Thursday, September 20, 2007
Freedom From Speech
Pranks, punk'd, hijinks. It's all good. Sorry to belabor the point, again, but I think this time it's justified, if for no other reason than to see the trees instead of the forest.
I prefer oranges to apples. They're more delicious and better for you, you could argue.
When I was in undergrad, a buddy and I were enjoying a lovely early evening stroll around campus when we decided to conduct a sociological experiment. We spotted a campus security rent-a-cop, all 5'4"/300lbs. of him, before he spotted us, and we started running away from him. Mind you, we'd done nothing wrong, nothing at all, which means by virtue solely of our running he gave chase.
4 hours and 7 junior pigs later, they never found us, and to this day are probably still wondering just exactly what it was that we didn't do that caused us to flee the scene. Good times. The virtue of a well-spent youth, I suppose.
But let me see if I've got this right.
Some asshole with a camera gets grabbed, restrained, hauled away, restrained some more, held down, cuffed, tasered (I prefer the extra syllable), held down some more, tasered again, hauled away, arrested, booked, put in jail, and arraigned because he exercised bad manners and poor etiquette?
It's my understanding that he was grabbed, restrained, hauled away, restrained some more, held down, cuffed, tasered (see above), held down some more, tasered again, hauled away, arrested, booked, put in jail, and arraigned because he was attempting to incite a riot.
Well I gotta say: That's some really terrible riot inciting attempts. Here's a tip: If everyone in the room hates you because you're an annoying dickhead with delusions of grandeur, then there's a pretty good chance that none of them will have your back when the campus gestapo decides to "sweep the leg Johnny". You're welcome.
Let's see: Kent State, Chicago's 1968 DNC, Birmingham's summer of 1965-ish, no taxation without representation... Hmm. Those were the days.
Sacha Baron Cohen's a genius and he's funny, 2 things our young Meyers isn't. Some of the stunts Borat pulled nearly got him killed. And the only reason he's not dead or in jail is because during filming, Larry Charles, the director, had an army of young lawyers in minivans making sure he was well within his rights to be doing what it was that he was doing. Meyers didn't have that luxury.
The cavalier attitude some of you hold with regard to your civil liberties scares the shit out of me. I guess I care a little bit more about my freedom to speak my mind. I never do it in a theater, though. But I love going to horror movies with a cinaplex full of black people because they'll have conversations with the characters on the screen -- heated, extended exchanges -- and it's usually more entertaining than the movie. Is that racist?
Anyways, those of you balking at the severity of personal infringement Meyer's stunt provoked leads me to believe you got exactly the political administration you deserve. Enjoy it, by all means. I guess we can thank the baby-booming hippies for all their hard work getting hippies elected mayor and paying for sandwiches with songs.*
I will say this: When it comes to outsourcing democracy to countries we've accidentally invaded again, would it be too much to ask if, every once in awhile, we went ahead and practiced a little democracy here on our own shores? Practice it till we get good at it, you see.
Meyer's real crime was taking an ideal opportunity to be brutally funny and squandering it for the sake of misplaced disobedience. For that? Yeah, lock him up and throw away the key. His exposing our illusion of freedom and security may have been accidental, but that's just because the means really do justify the ends.
(Man. This water I'm sitting in in this giant frying pan is starting to get uncomfortably warm, by the way.)
*Patton Oswalt
I prefer oranges to apples. They're more delicious and better for you, you could argue.
When I was in undergrad, a buddy and I were enjoying a lovely early evening stroll around campus when we decided to conduct a sociological experiment. We spotted a campus security rent-a-cop, all 5'4"/300lbs. of him, before he spotted us, and we started running away from him. Mind you, we'd done nothing wrong, nothing at all, which means by virtue solely of our running he gave chase.
4 hours and 7 junior pigs later, they never found us, and to this day are probably still wondering just exactly what it was that we didn't do that caused us to flee the scene. Good times. The virtue of a well-spent youth, I suppose.
But let me see if I've got this right.
Some asshole with a camera gets grabbed, restrained, hauled away, restrained some more, held down, cuffed, tasered (I prefer the extra syllable), held down some more, tasered again, hauled away, arrested, booked, put in jail, and arraigned because he exercised bad manners and poor etiquette?
It's my understanding that he was grabbed, restrained, hauled away, restrained some more, held down, cuffed, tasered (see above), held down some more, tasered again, hauled away, arrested, booked, put in jail, and arraigned because he was attempting to incite a riot.
Well I gotta say: That's some really terrible riot inciting attempts. Here's a tip: If everyone in the room hates you because you're an annoying dickhead with delusions of grandeur, then there's a pretty good chance that none of them will have your back when the campus gestapo decides to "sweep the leg Johnny". You're welcome.
Let's see: Kent State, Chicago's 1968 DNC, Birmingham's summer of 1965-ish, no taxation without representation... Hmm. Those were the days.
Sacha Baron Cohen's a genius and he's funny, 2 things our young Meyers isn't. Some of the stunts Borat pulled nearly got him killed. And the only reason he's not dead or in jail is because during filming, Larry Charles, the director, had an army of young lawyers in minivans making sure he was well within his rights to be doing what it was that he was doing. Meyers didn't have that luxury.
The cavalier attitude some of you hold with regard to your civil liberties scares the shit out of me. I guess I care a little bit more about my freedom to speak my mind. I never do it in a theater, though. But I love going to horror movies with a cinaplex full of black people because they'll have conversations with the characters on the screen -- heated, extended exchanges -- and it's usually more entertaining than the movie. Is that racist?
Anyways, those of you balking at the severity of personal infringement Meyer's stunt provoked leads me to believe you got exactly the political administration you deserve. Enjoy it, by all means. I guess we can thank the baby-booming hippies for all their hard work getting hippies elected mayor and paying for sandwiches with songs.*
I will say this: When it comes to outsourcing democracy to countries we've accidentally invaded again, would it be too much to ask if, every once in awhile, we went ahead and practiced a little democracy here on our own shores? Practice it till we get good at it, you see.
Meyer's real crime was taking an ideal opportunity to be brutally funny and squandering it for the sake of misplaced disobedience. For that? Yeah, lock him up and throw away the key. His exposing our illusion of freedom and security may have been accidental, but that's just because the means really do justify the ends.
(Man. This water I'm sitting in in this giant frying pan is starting to get uncomfortably warm, by the way.)
*Patton Oswalt
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Today We've All Been Tasered
College Pigs Deck Campus Loudmouth At Non-Event
HELP! HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME! or not
Former Presidential Hopeful Pleads [For] 5th (Of Bourbon) Mastering Art Of Speaking While Still Asleep (At The Wheel [Again])
America's Future Looks On And Laughs At Totalitarianism
Oh well. It's only freedom. So I'll try to keep this brief.
Was Meyer an annoying little prick who was out for attention? Probably. He's a journalism major. How could he not be? Was he out of line and out of line? Looks like it. He's a journalism major. How could he not be? Did some of those cops want to punch him in the face? I know I did. Journalism's been on vacation since 1972.
Still, there's a pretty big difference between wanting to punch someone in the face and actually punching someone in the face. It's called democracy. Democracy is probably the worst form of government on the planet, earth, because it's both really hard to maintain and nearly impossible to enforce. Democracy is having to listen to someone advocating things that make you sick to your stomach while at the same time lobbying till you're completely spent for that person's inalienable right to be advocating those very things that make you sick to your stomach.
I.e., it's not that this whole thing is a slippery slope. It's that this whole thing means we've already slid down the slope and are currently trying to claw our way back up the slope while some mongoloid storm trooper is, that's right, tasering us in the gonads.
Don't get me wrong: I'm one of those adopted southerners who'd like to see "Separate but equal" given another shot at primetime. But if you're at all familiar with Gainesville, then you're at all familiar with the people I work/play/live with. In other words ("i.e."), they'd would've laughed at someone, and let's not by coy about this, being tortured with an electrical device.
I'm no lawyer (Word on the street is that there may be 2 or 3 ambulance chasers posting right here on The New Fray!) , but the last time I checked, you couldn't be cuffed by Johnny Longarm for being annoying. If that were the case, then Best of the Fray would look like Dispatches From the Martha Stewart Trial. (I miss it. I really do.)
That whole "freedom of speech" bit? I'm against it. You should already know that. If you don't, you're reading the wrong people.
Perhaps a better approach [apologies/thanks to ThyGoddess]:
"Hi, Senator Kerry. I wore flipflops in your honor. I have 3 questions:
1.) Why didn't you contest the election results in South Florida, where, just like back in 2000, black people became felons overnight?
2.) If you can't impeach the president for invading the wrong country at the wrong time, can you initiate impeachment proceedings based on the fact that he's an idiot?
3.) When you were in Skull and Bones, was there some initiation process in which, when you're laying in that coffin masturbating, you have to pledge to be spineless turds for the rest of your life?
Thanks in advance for your candor. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get tasered by people too stupid to realize it's their fundamental rights I'm trying to exercise. Didn't realize I'd actually be exorcising them."
HELP! HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME! or not
Former Presidential Hopeful Pleads [For] 5th (Of Bourbon) Mastering Art Of Speaking While Still Asleep (At The Wheel [Again])
America's Future Looks On And Laughs At Totalitarianism
Oh well. It's only freedom. So I'll try to keep this brief.
Was Meyer an annoying little prick who was out for attention? Probably. He's a journalism major. How could he not be? Was he out of line and out of line? Looks like it. He's a journalism major. How could he not be? Did some of those cops want to punch him in the face? I know I did. Journalism's been on vacation since 1972.
Still, there's a pretty big difference between wanting to punch someone in the face and actually punching someone in the face. It's called democracy. Democracy is probably the worst form of government on the planet, earth, because it's both really hard to maintain and nearly impossible to enforce. Democracy is having to listen to someone advocating things that make you sick to your stomach while at the same time lobbying till you're completely spent for that person's inalienable right to be advocating those very things that make you sick to your stomach.
I.e., it's not that this whole thing is a slippery slope. It's that this whole thing means we've already slid down the slope and are currently trying to claw our way back up the slope while some mongoloid storm trooper is, that's right, tasering us in the gonads.
Don't get me wrong: I'm one of those adopted southerners who'd like to see "Separate but equal" given another shot at primetime. But if you're at all familiar with Gainesville, then you're at all familiar with the people I work/play/live with. In other words ("i.e."), they'd would've laughed at someone, and let's not by coy about this, being tortured with an electrical device.
I'm no lawyer (Word on the street is that there may be 2 or 3 ambulance chasers posting right here on The New Fray!) , but the last time I checked, you couldn't be cuffed by Johnny Longarm for being annoying. If that were the case, then Best of the Fray would look like Dispatches From the Martha Stewart Trial. (I miss it. I really do.)
That whole "freedom of speech" bit? I'm against it. You should already know that. If you don't, you're reading the wrong people.
Perhaps a better approach [apologies/thanks to ThyGoddess]:
"Hi, Senator Kerry. I wore flipflops in your honor. I have 3 questions:
1.) Why didn't you contest the election results in South Florida, where, just like back in 2000, black people became felons overnight?
2.) If you can't impeach the president for invading the wrong country at the wrong time, can you initiate impeachment proceedings based on the fact that he's an idiot?
3.) When you were in Skull and Bones, was there some initiation process in which, when you're laying in that coffin masturbating, you have to pledge to be spineless turds for the rest of your life?
Thanks in advance for your candor. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get tasered by people too stupid to realize it's their fundamental rights I'm trying to exercise. Didn't realize I'd actually be exorcising them."
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
O.J. Casino Video Transcripts Leaked
Juice Caught With Hand In Sports Memorabilia Jar
IF THE JERSEY FITS IT'S GOODBYE RITZ
Marsha Clark Recruited To Screw Up Open-Shut Case Completely, Totally
What Happens In Vegas In Bars Stays In Vegas Behind Them
Uh oh. Don't look now, but word on the street is that O.J. Simpson may or may not have tried to steal back all his worthless sports crap that he sold in order to pay off the family of that blond gal and her male gigolo he murdered over ten years ago, creating motherless children again. Packing heat and some extra muscle, even. I guess his next book will be Just Exactly How Stupid Am I?
Man. That's a well you don't go to more than once. Karma. I don't care if you've got "slave feet": Nobody but nobody outruns the Vegas P.D. Not his best Ocean's Eleven moment, to say the least.
Unless you haven't heard it yet, TMZ.com has a recording of O.J.'s confrontation with the hotel casino concierge attempting to thwart a robbery. It's not pretty and may not be suited to our younger readers. Many boat hands died for this information. Proceed at your own risk.
"Concierge: Good evening, sir. How may I help you?
O.J. Simpson: Hi. I'm O.J. Simpson. You may recognize me from those TV commercials where I jumped over all the airport seating to catch a flight.
C: Hmm... I don't recall those.
OJS: Really? I used to play football. I'm quite famous.
C: Were you in Roots?
OJS: No, but I was in the first 2 Naked Gun movies. Wait. Was I in the second one? I know at one point I got pushed off the deck of a boat in a wheelchair. Funny stuff!
C: I'm not familiar with that film franchise. Now what is it I can do for you?
OJS: Well, see, here's the thing: A bunch of my stuff is in your vault, and I kinda sorta need it back in order to get to the bottom of who killed my ex-wife, finally.
C: Oh, now I remember: You're the dude with the ill-fitting glove and the baked surfer dude living out back. Say, whatever happened to that guy? Didn't he have a talk show at one point?
OJS: He's currently painting pictures on turtles in San Jose. Anyways, about my stuff. Can I have it, please?
C: Let me check the manifesto... Hmm... It says here that the contents of our vault are the property of several other people, but I don't see your name amongst them.
OJS: Well, if you went and got my stuff you'd see that my name is on most of the sports memorabilia. If it's not mine, then tell me why it's got my name on it.
C: Your name being on the merchandise has nothing to do with it. Possession is 9/10ths of the law.
OJS: Did you actually think I was going to come into a hotel casino in Vegas and demand the contents of its vault without some backup? Just how stupid do you think I am? Wait. That's catchy, might make a nice follow up to If I Did It. Darnell, write that down. Now, where was I? Oh, right. What if I told you that I and my 2 associates happened to have guns in our pockets?
C: I'd ask, 'Or are you just happy to see me?'
OJS: Don't do anything funny.
C: Sir, armed robbery is no laughing matter. I'm afraid I'll have to deny your request.
OJS: Then I demand to see your supervisor.
C: Very well. [click] Steve, could you come to the front desk? Someone claiming all that useless shit in the vault is his because it's got his name on it would like to speak to you. [click]
OJS: Now we're getting somewhere.
Assistant Night Manager: What seems to be the problem here?
OJS: The stuff in your vault is mine. I'd like it back. I'm in a bit of a time jam and I'd appreciate your cooperation.
ANM: Your name, please?
OJS: O.J. Simpson. I'm a football player.
ANM: Really? You look a little long in the the tooth for the gridiron. You look familiar to me. Were you on Dancing With The Stars?
OJS: No, but I competed in many Battle Of The Network Stars.
ANM: Battle of the what what?
OJS: Battle Of The Network Stars? When TV stars would form teams made up of actors starring in some of television's favorite shows back in the 70's and early 80's. Farah Fawcett, Mike Farrell, Dan Haggerty, Richard Hatch, Gabe Kaplan. You know, the giants. They'd compete in obstacle courses and things of that nature. And the grand finale would be the tug-of-war contest between the top 2 teams of the 3 networks. PBS could never throw a team together. They'd try to put together a crew, but Louis Rukeyser would always pull out at the last minute. He was their baseball dunk ringer. Anyways, I need my stuff.
ANM: So you're a TV actor?
OJS: Er, sort of. You may have seen what's turned out to be the 1st reality TV show over 10 years ago. It was called Oops! I Just Killed My Wife! It was genius. Someone plants my dead ex-wife in the kitchen, blood everywhere, a knife, bloody footprints, latex gloves...
C: Weren't you Benson on Soap?
OJS: No. Seriously? You don't remember? The white Bronco low speed police chase? [makes steering motions in air] 'If it doesn't fit, you must acquit'? The trial that lasted over a year? I'm the most famous bullet dodger on the planet. I may or may not have chopped my wife's head off, but I told a whopper, just like Queen Elizabeth's Diana plot, or our current president.
ANM: Not ringing any bells. I'm afraid I'm unable to meet your demands, Mr.... Simpson, was it?
OJS: Then I need to see your supervisor.
ANM: Very well. [click] Dan: Could you come to the front desk please? [click]
Head of Security: What do you want, O.J.?
OJS: Thank god. You know me. But wait: You're black. The head of security is black?
HoS: Thanks for taking the time to notice. You have a problem with that?
OJS: As a matter of fact, I do.
ANM: Why?
OJS: Because when a black man is found innocent of killing a white woman when it's obvious he's guilty, white people don't riot in the streets. Unless it's the deep south pre-civil rights, in which case there's no trial; he was just lynched.
OJS: Fuck you.
HoS: Fuck me? I grew up watching you play football. You were like Baryshnikov in cleats. Performance art at its finest. An incredible role model for black youth. How ironic that it turns out you're little more than an ignorant thug. You're no better than these rappers that talk about hos and bling and killing cops. You may have beat the rap, but i'd rather 50 Cent babysit my kids.
OJS: Fuck you. We've got guns.
HoS: Really? You pin cushion your wife and now you're trying to rob people? I wonder what Jackie Robinson would think.
OJS: I wonder what Jesse Jackson would think, nigga!
HoS: I bet you do. Listen: Do yourself a favor, leave, sober up, call your agent, get your acting career back on track, take a page out of Wynona Rider's book. Anything to prevent yourself from embracing your self-fulfilling destiny as a small time has-been. Think of the kids.
OJS: I'm O.J. Simson. I won the Heisman trophy. I shredded my ex-wife's face with a carving knife and got away with it. I can do anything I want. Now give me my shit.
HoS: This hotel is equipped with 123,597 hidden cameras, 239 of which are currently pointed directly at you. Just exactly how stupid are you?
OJS: How stupid am I? Stupid enough to kill my own wife and get away with it. That's how stupid. It'll all be in my new memoir. Darnell? Are you getting all this?
Darnell: No, but I think that little microphone in those flowers might be.
OJS: Oh. Right. Can I have a copy of that?
HoS: Sure. But something tells me you won't be the only one getting a copy.
OJS: Excellent. Nothing like a little pre-released buzz to raise some cash. Daddy needs a new lawyer. Could you cc it to Entertainment Tonight? I know a guy.
HoS: Congratulations on your finally having achieved '10-foot pole' status. Loved the book, by the way."
To be continued...
IF THE JERSEY FITS IT'S GOODBYE RITZ
Marsha Clark Recruited To Screw Up Open-Shut Case Completely, Totally
What Happens In Vegas In Bars Stays In Vegas Behind Them
Uh oh. Don't look now, but word on the street is that O.J. Simpson may or may not have tried to steal back all his worthless sports crap that he sold in order to pay off the family of that blond gal and her male gigolo he murdered over ten years ago, creating motherless children again. Packing heat and some extra muscle, even. I guess his next book will be Just Exactly How Stupid Am I?
Man. That's a well you don't go to more than once. Karma. I don't care if you've got "slave feet": Nobody but nobody outruns the Vegas P.D. Not his best Ocean's Eleven moment, to say the least.
Unless you haven't heard it yet, TMZ.com has a recording of O.J.'s confrontation with the hotel casino concierge attempting to thwart a robbery. It's not pretty and may not be suited to our younger readers. Many boat hands died for this information. Proceed at your own risk.
"Concierge: Good evening, sir. How may I help you?
O.J. Simpson: Hi. I'm O.J. Simpson. You may recognize me from those TV commercials where I jumped over all the airport seating to catch a flight.
C: Hmm... I don't recall those.
OJS: Really? I used to play football. I'm quite famous.
C: Were you in Roots?
OJS: No, but I was in the first 2 Naked Gun movies. Wait. Was I in the second one? I know at one point I got pushed off the deck of a boat in a wheelchair. Funny stuff!
C: I'm not familiar with that film franchise. Now what is it I can do for you?
OJS: Well, see, here's the thing: A bunch of my stuff is in your vault, and I kinda sorta need it back in order to get to the bottom of who killed my ex-wife, finally.
C: Oh, now I remember: You're the dude with the ill-fitting glove and the baked surfer dude living out back. Say, whatever happened to that guy? Didn't he have a talk show at one point?
OJS: He's currently painting pictures on turtles in San Jose. Anyways, about my stuff. Can I have it, please?
C: Let me check the manifesto... Hmm... It says here that the contents of our vault are the property of several other people, but I don't see your name amongst them.
OJS: Well, if you went and got my stuff you'd see that my name is on most of the sports memorabilia. If it's not mine, then tell me why it's got my name on it.
C: Your name being on the merchandise has nothing to do with it. Possession is 9/10ths of the law.
OJS: Did you actually think I was going to come into a hotel casino in Vegas and demand the contents of its vault without some backup? Just how stupid do you think I am? Wait. That's catchy, might make a nice follow up to If I Did It. Darnell, write that down. Now, where was I? Oh, right. What if I told you that I and my 2 associates happened to have guns in our pockets?
C: I'd ask, 'Or are you just happy to see me?'
OJS: Don't do anything funny.
C: Sir, armed robbery is no laughing matter. I'm afraid I'll have to deny your request.
OJS: Then I demand to see your supervisor.
C: Very well. [click] Steve, could you come to the front desk? Someone claiming all that useless shit in the vault is his because it's got his name on it would like to speak to you. [click]
OJS: Now we're getting somewhere.
Assistant Night Manager: What seems to be the problem here?
OJS: The stuff in your vault is mine. I'd like it back. I'm in a bit of a time jam and I'd appreciate your cooperation.
ANM: Your name, please?
OJS: O.J. Simpson. I'm a football player.
ANM: Really? You look a little long in the the tooth for the gridiron. You look familiar to me. Were you on Dancing With The Stars?
OJS: No, but I competed in many Battle Of The Network Stars.
ANM: Battle of the what what?
OJS: Battle Of The Network Stars? When TV stars would form teams made up of actors starring in some of television's favorite shows back in the 70's and early 80's. Farah Fawcett, Mike Farrell, Dan Haggerty, Richard Hatch, Gabe Kaplan. You know, the giants. They'd compete in obstacle courses and things of that nature. And the grand finale would be the tug-of-war contest between the top 2 teams of the 3 networks. PBS could never throw a team together. They'd try to put together a crew, but Louis Rukeyser would always pull out at the last minute. He was their baseball dunk ringer. Anyways, I need my stuff.
ANM: So you're a TV actor?
OJS: Er, sort of. You may have seen what's turned out to be the 1st reality TV show over 10 years ago. It was called Oops! I Just Killed My Wife! It was genius. Someone plants my dead ex-wife in the kitchen, blood everywhere, a knife, bloody footprints, latex gloves...
C: Weren't you Benson on Soap?
OJS: No. Seriously? You don't remember? The white Bronco low speed police chase? [makes steering motions in air] 'If it doesn't fit, you must acquit'? The trial that lasted over a year? I'm the most famous bullet dodger on the planet. I may or may not have chopped my wife's head off, but I told a whopper, just like Queen Elizabeth's Diana plot, or our current president.
ANM: Not ringing any bells. I'm afraid I'm unable to meet your demands, Mr.... Simpson, was it?
OJS: Then I need to see your supervisor.
ANM: Very well. [click] Dan: Could you come to the front desk please? [click]
Head of Security: What do you want, O.J.?
OJS: Thank god. You know me. But wait: You're black. The head of security is black?
HoS: Thanks for taking the time to notice. You have a problem with that?
OJS: As a matter of fact, I do.
ANM: Why?
OJS: Because when a black man is found innocent of killing a white woman when it's obvious he's guilty, white people don't riot in the streets. Unless it's the deep south pre-civil rights, in which case there's no trial; he was just lynched.
OJS: Fuck you.
HoS: Fuck me? I grew up watching you play football. You were like Baryshnikov in cleats. Performance art at its finest. An incredible role model for black youth. How ironic that it turns out you're little more than an ignorant thug. You're no better than these rappers that talk about hos and bling and killing cops. You may have beat the rap, but i'd rather 50 Cent babysit my kids.
OJS: Fuck you. We've got guns.
HoS: Really? You pin cushion your wife and now you're trying to rob people? I wonder what Jackie Robinson would think.
OJS: I wonder what Jesse Jackson would think, nigga!
HoS: I bet you do. Listen: Do yourself a favor, leave, sober up, call your agent, get your acting career back on track, take a page out of Wynona Rider's book. Anything to prevent yourself from embracing your self-fulfilling destiny as a small time has-been. Think of the kids.
OJS: I'm O.J. Simson. I won the Heisman trophy. I shredded my ex-wife's face with a carving knife and got away with it. I can do anything I want. Now give me my shit.
HoS: This hotel is equipped with 123,597 hidden cameras, 239 of which are currently pointed directly at you. Just exactly how stupid are you?
OJS: How stupid am I? Stupid enough to kill my own wife and get away with it. That's how stupid. It'll all be in my new memoir. Darnell? Are you getting all this?
Darnell: No, but I think that little microphone in those flowers might be.
OJS: Oh. Right. Can I have a copy of that?
HoS: Sure. But something tells me you won't be the only one getting a copy.
OJS: Excellent. Nothing like a little pre-released buzz to raise some cash. Daddy needs a new lawyer. Could you cc it to Entertainment Tonight? I know a guy.
HoS: Congratulations on your finally having achieved '10-foot pole' status. Loved the book, by the way."
To be continued...
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Deadwood: Season 3, Part 3--Some Final Thoughts
David Milch
559 Movie Magic Lane
Glamourville, U S of A
90210
Dear Dave,
Well, if you guessed that I'm spent, you'd be right. The last 2 episodes of Season 3 alone sent me spiraling into a tailspin of "emotional embezzlement", and I don't think, 1 whole month later, that I've even recovered yet. 2 hours of perhaps the greatest television ever, cable or not.
However, this bullshit about Deadwood being too expensive to provide its rabid fans with a little bit o'closure strikes me as, well, bullshit. And retarded.
Listen, David Lynch Junior: Ending a series before you've told the entire story is terribly bad form. Terribly bad. I mean, the Earp brothers are in, like, 2 episodes and they don't really ever do anything but look askew at each other and all those around them; I still don't know who or what a "Pinkerton" is; the gay guy and the fat chick never got to put on a big show (yes, that was the Dennis Christopher, everybody); they've not even started construction on the new school; Jane and Joanie just barely got to explore their own inner lesbianisms; and we never find out why Octavius put a shiv in that Plutonian's gluteus maximus. (Er... Wait.)
I haven't seen that many loose ends since The 2005 Gay Pride Parade Home Coming Queen Court staged a live game of Thong Twister on the Moulin Rouge float. Good times.
(Though Ellsworth did get his head blown off. So that storyline is pretty much a dead end.)
Anyways...
So, yeah, you're gonna hafta out-Lynch Lynch (or lynch Lynch, as the case may be) and make a full-length feature film released in theaters that wraps up all the storylines but doesn't unravel itself in masturbatory self-musings the way Fire Walk With Me did.
You'll make 5 bajillion dollars in the first weekend alone. It will pay for itself in about 10 minutes. Hell, start a donation campaign and it could be all for-profit.
So please, Dave: Do it for Deadwood's fans; do it for Deadwood's cast; do it for Deadwood's memory. But for godsakes, just do it. But you'd better do it well, or you'll be the one getting David Lynched.
Yours sincerely,
switters
559 Movie Magic Lane
Glamourville, U S of A
90210
Dear Dave,
Well, if you guessed that I'm spent, you'd be right. The last 2 episodes of Season 3 alone sent me spiraling into a tailspin of "emotional embezzlement", and I don't think, 1 whole month later, that I've even recovered yet. 2 hours of perhaps the greatest television ever, cable or not.
However, this bullshit about Deadwood being too expensive to provide its rabid fans with a little bit o'closure strikes me as, well, bullshit. And retarded.
Listen, David Lynch Junior: Ending a series before you've told the entire story is terribly bad form. Terribly bad. I mean, the Earp brothers are in, like, 2 episodes and they don't really ever do anything but look askew at each other and all those around them; I still don't know who or what a "Pinkerton" is; the gay guy and the fat chick never got to put on a big show (yes, that was the Dennis Christopher, everybody); they've not even started construction on the new school; Jane and Joanie just barely got to explore their own inner lesbianisms; and we never find out why Octavius put a shiv in that Plutonian's gluteus maximus. (Er... Wait.)
I haven't seen that many loose ends since The 2005 Gay Pride Parade Home Coming Queen Court staged a live game of Thong Twister on the Moulin Rouge float. Good times.
(Though Ellsworth did get his head blown off. So that storyline is pretty much a dead end.)
Anyways...
So, yeah, you're gonna hafta out-Lynch Lynch (or lynch Lynch, as the case may be) and make a full-length feature film released in theaters that wraps up all the storylines but doesn't unravel itself in masturbatory self-musings the way Fire Walk With Me did.
You'll make 5 bajillion dollars in the first weekend alone. It will pay for itself in about 10 minutes. Hell, start a donation campaign and it could be all for-profit.
So please, Dave: Do it for Deadwood's fans; do it for Deadwood's cast; do it for Deadwood's memory. But for godsakes, just do it. But you'd better do it well, or you'll be the one getting David Lynched.
Yours sincerely,
switters
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Iraq Is So Not Vietnam
Okay, this one should be pretty obvious, kids. I feel really bad that I have to point these sorts of things out. It makes me feel very sorry for almost every single one of you.They're not even the same country!?! Southeast Asia and The Middle East are not contiguous.
The Iraq campaign may or may not be many things: illegal, immoral, wrongheaded, poorly thought out and planned, mismanaged, inappropriate, illegal and stupid.
But one thing we can be relatively certain about is that Iraq is so not Vietnam.
In Vietnam, we were looking for "Charlie"
And "gooks". In Iraq, we're looking for Achmed, and "sand niggers". 2 completely different sorts of folks. "Gooks" have slanted eyes with weird eyelids, greenish-blue skin, pointy teeth, and black hair. "Sand niggers" have wide-eyes with massive eyebrows, brown skin, no teeth, and kinky hair. Idiots.
We haven't secretly invaded an adjacent country
Like when we went into Cambodia and Laos without ever really telling anyone. You don't see us stumbling over there to Iran without at least letting someone know where we are, do you?
Our involvement in the Vietnam conflict started way back in the early 1960s, lasted over a decade and killed over 30,000 G.I.s, many of whom were drafted
We've only been in Iraq a little over 3 years and we haven't even lost 4,000 G.I.s, all of whom are volunteers, such that inner-city black youth with go-nowhere futures and rural white trash meth-head losers with little education could be called "volunteers". A mere technicality, John Kerry Junior.
The Vietnam conflict was fought in the jungle
The Iraq police action is being fought in the desert. That's practically the opposite of a jungle. Jungles are filled with exotic trees, bugs, monkeys, and it rains a lot. Deserts are arid with very few trees and mostly just scorpions and things of that nature. And it rarely rains in the desert. Newsflash!!! That's why it's a desert. Is this thing even on?
In Vietnam, we had a clear objective, which was to hold off those ugly commies from spreading their lies in the region
We haven't the faintest fucking clue what the hell we're supposed to be doing in Iraq. That's what makes it so very American to be there. Do try to keep up.
The president during the end of the Vietnam War was a raging alcoholic drunk on power, used the constitution as a coaster, spied on his own people, and drove the presidency so far into the ground that he just as well could've been running for the presidency of China
George Bush hasn't had a drink in 20 years.
Vietnam vets got Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and when they came home they got spit on
Iraq vets got Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and when they came home they got pissed on. Sure, it was their own piss, but piss couldn't be more different than spit no matter how hard piss tried not to be.
In Iraq, we've got almost as many (if not more) "mercenaries" than we do soldiers
We didn't have any mercenaries in Vietnam. Back then they were called "CIA", and there weren't nearly as many not there as we've been led to believe. You might want to brush up on your American history, dumbass. Seriously.
Some Vietnamese civilians, many of whom were blown up into millions of tiny little pieces, didn't want us there
Some Iraqi civilians, may of whom have been blown up into millions of tiny little pieces, do want us there. Badly. It's just that those that do want us there aren't as vocal as those that don't. That "silent majority" I mentioned in my "FOX News" post nobody read.
But note that antecedent up there. Of course many Iraqi civilians want us there. It's just that they want us in Vietnam. Double check the fine print, pinheads.
Iraq and Vietnam are in different time zones
Jesus-rimjob-Christ! Am I saying this? Am I actually having to say this out loud?!? Vietnam is currently residing in the Where Are They Now Sub-Standard Time, while Iraq has been reduced to 1645 A.D.-ish. It's been in a couple papers.
Apparently Vietnamese hookers played an important role in the life of our pre-disco G.I.s
Looks like Iraqi hookers don't play much of a role in the lives of our post-grunge G.I.s, because the last time I checked, Iraqi hookers are 1.) much more discrete than their Vietnamese counterparts; 2.)--wait: There's no such thing as an Iraqi prostitute; 3.) Iraqi women who are only allowed to have sex if it's in the torture chamber of your date's dad's summer palace (3rd door on the left off the main foyer); 4.) not Britney, who bombed at the MTV Music Video Awards in Las Vegas ("Let it go, Dutch. Let it go."); 5.) of the mind that in Iraq, safe sex is considered illegal unless it's in another country with a not Iraqi guy; 6.) Iraqi women who are only allowed to have sex if it's in the Rape Room of their date's dad's winter retreat (down the stairs, 2nd door on the right past the laundry room/anal probe station); 7.) not really "hookers". They're "future suicide bomber semen receptacles". A little red-blooded American,er... blood could only enhance the sheer pointlessness of it "all". Take that, Swift Boat Retards For Bullshit.
The War In Vietnam was real!
The War In Iraq is a video game on CNN.
So, to sum up: Iraq is so not Vietnam because of racial profiling, ray shawl pro filing, proportional first responders, global raining, automatic laugh tracks during news conferences, the wisdom to know the deference, the Jane Fonda syndrome, Walter can't read, nation exploding building, Mei Lei-esqueness, except on the west coast, "me love you long time", and Play Station 2.
Oh well. At least nobody was lied to this time already, again.
The Iraq campaign may or may not be many things: illegal, immoral, wrongheaded, poorly thought out and planned, mismanaged, inappropriate, illegal and stupid.
But one thing we can be relatively certain about is that Iraq is so not Vietnam.
In Vietnam, we were looking for "Charlie"
And "gooks". In Iraq, we're looking for Achmed, and "sand niggers". 2 completely different sorts of folks. "Gooks" have slanted eyes with weird eyelids, greenish-blue skin, pointy teeth, and black hair. "Sand niggers" have wide-eyes with massive eyebrows, brown skin, no teeth, and kinky hair. Idiots.
We haven't secretly invaded an adjacent country
Like when we went into Cambodia and Laos without ever really telling anyone. You don't see us stumbling over there to Iran without at least letting someone know where we are, do you?
Our involvement in the Vietnam conflict started way back in the early 1960s, lasted over a decade and killed over 30,000 G.I.s, many of whom were drafted
We've only been in Iraq a little over 3 years and we haven't even lost 4,000 G.I.s, all of whom are volunteers, such that inner-city black youth with go-nowhere futures and rural white trash meth-head losers with little education could be called "volunteers". A mere technicality, John Kerry Junior.
The Vietnam conflict was fought in the jungle
The Iraq police action is being fought in the desert. That's practically the opposite of a jungle. Jungles are filled with exotic trees, bugs, monkeys, and it rains a lot. Deserts are arid with very few trees and mostly just scorpions and things of that nature. And it rarely rains in the desert. Newsflash!!! That's why it's a desert. Is this thing even on?
In Vietnam, we had a clear objective, which was to hold off those ugly commies from spreading their lies in the region
We haven't the faintest fucking clue what the hell we're supposed to be doing in Iraq. That's what makes it so very American to be there. Do try to keep up.
The president during the end of the Vietnam War was a raging alcoholic drunk on power, used the constitution as a coaster, spied on his own people, and drove the presidency so far into the ground that he just as well could've been running for the presidency of China
George Bush hasn't had a drink in 20 years.
Vietnam vets got Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and when they came home they got spit on
Iraq vets got Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and when they came home they got pissed on. Sure, it was their own piss, but piss couldn't be more different than spit no matter how hard piss tried not to be.
In Iraq, we've got almost as many (if not more) "mercenaries" than we do soldiers
We didn't have any mercenaries in Vietnam. Back then they were called "CIA", and there weren't nearly as many not there as we've been led to believe. You might want to brush up on your American history, dumbass. Seriously.
Some Vietnamese civilians, many of whom were blown up into millions of tiny little pieces, didn't want us there
Some Iraqi civilians, may of whom have been blown up into millions of tiny little pieces, do want us there. Badly. It's just that those that do want us there aren't as vocal as those that don't. That "silent majority" I mentioned in my "FOX News" post nobody read.
But note that antecedent up there. Of course many Iraqi civilians want us there. It's just that they want us in Vietnam. Double check the fine print, pinheads.
Iraq and Vietnam are in different time zones
Jesus-rimjob-Christ! Am I saying this? Am I actually having to say this out loud?!? Vietnam is currently residing in the Where Are They Now Sub-Standard Time, while Iraq has been reduced to 1645 A.D.-ish. It's been in a couple papers.
Apparently Vietnamese hookers played an important role in the life of our pre-disco G.I.s
Looks like Iraqi hookers don't play much of a role in the lives of our post-grunge G.I.s, because the last time I checked, Iraqi hookers are 1.) much more discrete than their Vietnamese counterparts; 2.)--wait: There's no such thing as an Iraqi prostitute; 3.) Iraqi women who are only allowed to have sex if it's in the torture chamber of your date's dad's summer palace (3rd door on the left off the main foyer); 4.) not Britney, who bombed at the MTV Music Video Awards in Las Vegas ("Let it go, Dutch. Let it go."); 5.) of the mind that in Iraq, safe sex is considered illegal unless it's in another country with a not Iraqi guy; 6.) Iraqi women who are only allowed to have sex if it's in the Rape Room of their date's dad's winter retreat (down the stairs, 2nd door on the right past the laundry room/anal probe station); 7.) not really "hookers". They're "future suicide bomber semen receptacles". A little red-blooded American,er... blood could only enhance the sheer pointlessness of it "all". Take that, Swift Boat Retards For Bullshit.
The War In Vietnam was real!
The War In Iraq is a video game on CNN.
So, to sum up: Iraq is so not Vietnam because of racial profiling, ray shawl pro filing, proportional first responders, global raining, automatic laugh tracks during news conferences, the wisdom to know the deference, the Jane Fonda syndrome, Walter can't read, nation exploding building, Mei Lei-esqueness, except on the west coast, "me love you long time", and Play Station 2.
Oh well. At least nobody was lied to this time already, again.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Bill Clinton Caused 9/11
[Anniversary rerun. As I told skitch, it's a little ironic that I had to copy/paste this from kos. Ouch.]
In our month long celebration of all things 9/11, it seems warily appropriate to get all the cards on the table. 5 years after this disaster, we still don't know whose fault it is. Until now.
With a presidential record that reveals that Clinton was more interested in the domestic health - economic, physical and social - of his fellow citizens than he was in "nation building" and "marching freedom spreading democracy" like a wheat thresher, it becomes abundantly clear just how asleep at the wheel our 42nd president (42? Have there been that many already? Really?) was, exactly.
He failed to catch bin Laden during the movie Black Hawk Down
I mean, come on. Obi Wan Kenobi practically had him in his sights when he took out that one tank thingie with a grenade launcher in order to help save the dude from Pearl Harbor. Not him, the other one. No, you're thinking of the dude from Troy and Munich. I'm talking about Colonel William ("Wally") Sharp from Armageddon.
He was soft on terror
After the incident in Somalia, all of the awe and fear we'd built up over the years made the first Gulf War look like the Bay of Pigs, literally.
He was a moderate Democrat
I.e., "pussy". But what would you expect from someone who was...
A draft-dodging faggot who never saw one day of combat
Could someone please explain to me, preferably slowly, why we would elect someone who had never fought in a war? It verges on the comical!
His vice president was an insane lunatic
All that weenie Al Gore did for 8 long years was to yammer on and on and on about the environment, predicting that if we didn't ease back off on all the consuming we'd suffer massive fluctuations in the weather, causing unprecedented natural disasters. I'm still chortling at that one, retard. Newsflash! Tsunamis and hurricanes are not caused by the weather, doofus. They're caused by God. Everybody knows that. I guess the last laugh's on you, pinhead!
He spoke thoughtfully and in complete sentences when not reading a teleprompter
Just who the fuck does he think we are? Marshall Scholars? Quit that "reasoning" and "oratory" and "presidential rhetoric" and give us the meat and potatoes. (Better: pork skins and Schlitz.)
He was sexually active
Face it, folks: the last thing we need in the Oval Office is a president engaging in various sex acts while he's "the most powerful man on our planet, earth". It sends the wrong message, i.e, "I am a human being." Is that really the image we want splattered all over the world for all its inhabitants to see?
He was so busy running the country that he forgot to run for office
You just don't do that, kids. You just don't. When the majority of politicians' time is spent vying for the opportunity to spend the majority of their time vying for the opportunity to spend the majority of their time doing just that, it creates a Zen-like flow of psychological open-endedness and participates, via its circularity, in the very circle of life that they talk about in The Lion King. And who wouldn't want that?
On the other hand, actually getting things done creates a vacuum and the illusion that you're no longer needed. That's bad (for) business.
He wasn't fanatically Zionist
You can't achieve peace in the Middle East unless you're prepared to suck some kosher dick. Israel is the only, and I mean the only sane nation in the greater Middle Eastern metropolitan area. If Middle Eastern Peace were a restaurant, then Israel would be the uppity maitre 'd, and he'll be happy to inform you, after saying, "And you are...", that reservations are required months in advance, even years for larger parties. "Perhaps you should try that new place, Iraqi's Quagmire, just down the street," he'll say. "That may be more in your price range. And if I'm not mistaken they do accept reason and logic."
You don't talk to those people with reason and logic. You talk to those people with cruise missiles and artillery shells, RPGs and landmines, IEDs and SUVs. The language of anti-personnel devices and collateral damage is the only language those desert apes can understand. And you know it.
So, to sum up: Bill Clinton caused 9/11 because of Armageddon (not the movie this time), John F. Kennedy, moderation, AWOL (Absent With Out Leaving), "global cooling", stupidity-as-empowerment, productivity, and anti-Semitism.
Truth hurts, doesn't it?
In our month long celebration of all things 9/11, it seems warily appropriate to get all the cards on the table. 5 years after this disaster, we still don't know whose fault it is. Until now.
With a presidential record that reveals that Clinton was more interested in the domestic health - economic, physical and social - of his fellow citizens than he was in "nation building" and "marching freedom spreading democracy" like a wheat thresher, it becomes abundantly clear just how asleep at the wheel our 42nd president (42? Have there been that many already? Really?) was, exactly.
He failed to catch bin Laden during the movie Black Hawk Down
I mean, come on. Obi Wan Kenobi practically had him in his sights when he took out that one tank thingie with a grenade launcher in order to help save the dude from Pearl Harbor. Not him, the other one. No, you're thinking of the dude from Troy and Munich. I'm talking about Colonel William ("Wally") Sharp from Armageddon.
He was soft on terror
After the incident in Somalia, all of the awe and fear we'd built up over the years made the first Gulf War look like the Bay of Pigs, literally.
He was a moderate Democrat
I.e., "pussy". But what would you expect from someone who was...
A draft-dodging faggot who never saw one day of combat
Could someone please explain to me, preferably slowly, why we would elect someone who had never fought in a war? It verges on the comical!
His vice president was an insane lunatic
All that weenie Al Gore did for 8 long years was to yammer on and on and on about the environment, predicting that if we didn't ease back off on all the consuming we'd suffer massive fluctuations in the weather, causing unprecedented natural disasters. I'm still chortling at that one, retard. Newsflash! Tsunamis and hurricanes are not caused by the weather, doofus. They're caused by God. Everybody knows that. I guess the last laugh's on you, pinhead!
He spoke thoughtfully and in complete sentences when not reading a teleprompter
Just who the fuck does he think we are? Marshall Scholars? Quit that "reasoning" and "oratory" and "presidential rhetoric" and give us the meat and potatoes. (Better: pork skins and Schlitz.)
He was sexually active
Face it, folks: the last thing we need in the Oval Office is a president engaging in various sex acts while he's "the most powerful man on our planet, earth". It sends the wrong message, i.e, "I am a human being." Is that really the image we want splattered all over the world for all its inhabitants to see?
He was so busy running the country that he forgot to run for office
You just don't do that, kids. You just don't. When the majority of politicians' time is spent vying for the opportunity to spend the majority of their time vying for the opportunity to spend the majority of their time doing just that, it creates a Zen-like flow of psychological open-endedness and participates, via its circularity, in the very circle of life that they talk about in The Lion King. And who wouldn't want that?
On the other hand, actually getting things done creates a vacuum and the illusion that you're no longer needed. That's bad (for) business.
He wasn't fanatically Zionist
You can't achieve peace in the Middle East unless you're prepared to suck some kosher dick. Israel is the only, and I mean the only sane nation in the greater Middle Eastern metropolitan area. If Middle Eastern Peace were a restaurant, then Israel would be the uppity maitre 'd, and he'll be happy to inform you, after saying, "And you are...", that reservations are required months in advance, even years for larger parties. "Perhaps you should try that new place, Iraqi's Quagmire, just down the street," he'll say. "That may be more in your price range. And if I'm not mistaken they do accept reason and logic."
You don't talk to those people with reason and logic. You talk to those people with cruise missiles and artillery shells, RPGs and landmines, IEDs and SUVs. The language of anti-personnel devices and collateral damage is the only language those desert apes can understand. And you know it.
So, to sum up: Bill Clinton caused 9/11 because of Armageddon (not the movie this time), John F. Kennedy, moderation, AWOL (Absent With Out Leaving), "global cooling", stupidity-as-empowerment, productivity, and anti-Semitism.
Truth hurts, doesn't it?
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Great News
She called last night.
I didn't answer. A buddy from work called, too, and wanted me to come over to watch the Roddick/Federer match (he's got cable, obviously). I probably should've gone.
So, no, I didn't answer. But it took all I had not to call her back. She left a message, something about having had a slight sinus infection related to her new (tooth) veneers. Funny. Sweet. Like we'd just talked earlier in the afternoon or something. I'm beginning to wonder if her obtuseness is some sort of pathological condition.
There's a Thai restaurant in Crestline (high end suburb of The Ham, part of Mountain Brook, "The MILF Capital Of The Southeast", you might say). Down the street from the restaurant is a nearly life-size chess board, with pieces to match. One of the last times she and I went there (stoned, obviously), we played a game after dinner. I let her win. It was sweet. Endearing.
Why call? Seriously? Why the fuck call?
This may come as a shock to some of you, but I really like to make people laugh, especially you people, because you're so goddamn smart. It makes me feel good to make smart people laugh while stupid people just sort of sit there, reading (I presume they kind of can) with that scrunched up, furrowed brow and the mouth half-open.
I try not to talk about my own posts, but I was surprised at how much anger there was in that one about the 4,000th dead American G.I. Anger not directed particularly well nor executed properly.
(You may recall that my musings with regard to the 3,000th dead G.I. didn't go over too well. Speaking of which, it makes me nervous when daveto takes so much heat. I don't get it. He's one of the most cogent, observant, thorough, thoughtful, perceptive and funny posters. [Confession: He's funnier than I am. Remember "I'm every-fucken-where"? 'Nough said.])
My alleged hatred of Jews, my Zionism, my bigotry with regard to blacks and Mexicans (really, anyone not white), my homophobia ("homophobia"? I'm not afraid of the gays; I just don't like them) and my misogyny -- all are both real and imagined, only the way they could be and only the way they could work for "the greater good" (and "the greater funny"!) in an online context. And I continue to be stunned that all y'all get it. How fucked up is that?
Listen to more Patton Oswalt.
But honestly: Why the fuck call?
We all get the "You know, you look like what's-his/her-name" bit when we go out to eat. I've gotten Heath Ledger (whatever), Matt Damon (hardly) and Glen Ford (pretty accurate, actually). But the one I get most often and most consistently is, "Hey, you look like that one gay guy who gets the shit kicked out of him in that Jack Nicholson movie with the gal from Twister," which I take as a compliment. This is the dude who cut his teeth on Talk Soup, for heaven's sake. I recently bought Mystery Men when I ordered The Mystery Guest online for august's book club discussion. It's a perfect movie. I don't know why it doesn't make more Top 10 Lists, frankly. Stiller, Azaria, Macy, Gerofalo, Herman (Reubens), Waits, Izzard, Rush, and Kinnear.
I hear Greg's killer in Little Miss Sunshine (it's in the Netflix queue). But he's nothing short of astounding in Mystery Men. Astounding.
So I guess I'll just keep trying to piss certain people off and make certain people laugh ("Ronald Reagan Caused 9/11", "Blogging The Mystery Guest", "Top 10 Disasters Of 2007"). It's the least I can do.
I miss my dad, which is a good thing, because I think it's an excellent testament to the sort of father he was. And he was funny, only the way midwesterners can be. I miss him.
(Thanks, by the way. I wonder if you guys will ever know just how much I appreciate you, in the strictest and most substantial sense. And I gotta believe that that's not unhealthy, considering the context/format/media. I'll never forget all the times y'all have made me laugh. The one that tickles me quite a bit is when I harken back to the original Regulation Hottie Retard Smackdown, when 7th (Seventh) Heaven got cancelled, and Faithbased lit up like a tackily decorated whitetrash X-mas tree, and rundeep and bright-virago basically traded 1-liners for the better part of an afternoon/early evening with idiotically insane lunatics. You just can't script that. [Okay, you can; but it's not easy and shouldn't be tried at home without supervision {unless you're me}.])
(Drinking to remember, indeed. I've always found Ben Folds terrifyingly profound. That sucks. Maybe in a good way.)
I didn't answer. A buddy from work called, too, and wanted me to come over to watch the Roddick/Federer match (he's got cable, obviously). I probably should've gone.
So, no, I didn't answer. But it took all I had not to call her back. She left a message, something about having had a slight sinus infection related to her new (tooth) veneers. Funny. Sweet. Like we'd just talked earlier in the afternoon or something. I'm beginning to wonder if her obtuseness is some sort of pathological condition.
There's a Thai restaurant in Crestline (high end suburb of The Ham, part of Mountain Brook, "The MILF Capital Of The Southeast", you might say). Down the street from the restaurant is a nearly life-size chess board, with pieces to match. One of the last times she and I went there (stoned, obviously), we played a game after dinner. I let her win. It was sweet. Endearing.
Why call? Seriously? Why the fuck call?
This may come as a shock to some of you, but I really like to make people laugh, especially you people, because you're so goddamn smart. It makes me feel good to make smart people laugh while stupid people just sort of sit there, reading (I presume they kind of can) with that scrunched up, furrowed brow and the mouth half-open.
I try not to talk about my own posts, but I was surprised at how much anger there was in that one about the 4,000th dead American G.I. Anger not directed particularly well nor executed properly.
(You may recall that my musings with regard to the 3,000th dead G.I. didn't go over too well. Speaking of which, it makes me nervous when daveto takes so much heat. I don't get it. He's one of the most cogent, observant, thorough, thoughtful, perceptive and funny posters. [Confession: He's funnier than I am. Remember "I'm every-fucken-where"? 'Nough said.])
My alleged hatred of Jews, my Zionism, my bigotry with regard to blacks and Mexicans (really, anyone not white), my homophobia ("homophobia"? I'm not afraid of the gays; I just don't like them) and my misogyny -- all are both real and imagined, only the way they could be and only the way they could work for "the greater good" (and "the greater funny"!) in an online context. And I continue to be stunned that all y'all get it. How fucked up is that?
Listen to more Patton Oswalt.
But honestly: Why the fuck call?
We all get the "You know, you look like what's-his/her-name" bit when we go out to eat. I've gotten Heath Ledger (whatever), Matt Damon (hardly) and Glen Ford (pretty accurate, actually). But the one I get most often and most consistently is, "Hey, you look like that one gay guy who gets the shit kicked out of him in that Jack Nicholson movie with the gal from Twister," which I take as a compliment. This is the dude who cut his teeth on Talk Soup, for heaven's sake. I recently bought Mystery Men when I ordered The Mystery Guest online for august's book club discussion. It's a perfect movie. I don't know why it doesn't make more Top 10 Lists, frankly. Stiller, Azaria, Macy, Gerofalo, Herman (Reubens), Waits, Izzard, Rush, and Kinnear.
I hear Greg's killer in Little Miss Sunshine (it's in the Netflix queue). But he's nothing short of astounding in Mystery Men. Astounding.
So I guess I'll just keep trying to piss certain people off and make certain people laugh ("Ronald Reagan Caused 9/11", "Blogging The Mystery Guest", "Top 10 Disasters Of 2007"). It's the least I can do.
I miss my dad, which is a good thing, because I think it's an excellent testament to the sort of father he was. And he was funny, only the way midwesterners can be. I miss him.
(Thanks, by the way. I wonder if you guys will ever know just how much I appreciate you, in the strictest and most substantial sense. And I gotta believe that that's not unhealthy, considering the context/format/media. I'll never forget all the times y'all have made me laugh. The one that tickles me quite a bit is when I harken back to the original Regulation Hottie Retard Smackdown, when 7th (Seventh) Heaven got cancelled, and Faithbased lit up like a tackily decorated whitetrash X-mas tree, and rundeep and bright-virago basically traded 1-liners for the better part of an afternoon/early evening with idiotically insane lunatics. You just can't script that. [Okay, you can; but it's not easy and shouldn't be tried at home without supervision {unless you're me}.])
(Drinking to remember, indeed. I've always found Ben Folds terrifyingly profound. That sucks. Maybe in a good way.)
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Funk Slumps
Autumns are spectacular down here. August slowly melts into September, and by its 3rd week, the golden light created by Birmingham's nationally ranked air pollution eases into orange and purple sunsets, the temperature and humidity recedes, and October sees consistent days of dry, mid-70-degree weather. Though the days get shorter and the calendar slowly swirls into the toilet bowl that is the holiday season, it's not unusual to wear a T-shirt in January.
Hit a bit of a low this weekend. Didn't do much of anything except watch tennis, obviously. But I was very unproductive, lethargic, and self-medicated.
One of my favorite posters on the fray, Slate's message boards, bright_virago, says that I need to move. I've been in Birmingham over 10 years now, longer than I've lived anywhere ever. I definitely see her point. The problem is that even if I were to move, I'd still have to take myself with me.
What I seem to be in the middle of is full-on all-out depression. As far as I can tell, it's not being caused by anything specifically, and it comes and goes, this overwhelming feeling of despair, hopelessness, pointlessness, anxiety. You know, all the fun stuff.
I need to quit smoking. When I quit successfully over 3 years ago (or whenever) for just over 9 months, I was on Zyban, which, if I'm not mistaken, is a mood stabilizer. I'm pretty sure I should be on something, and that beer and pot aren't doing a lot to improve my demeanor.
I haven't heard from the-one-that-got-away in a week. I'm sure that has something to do with my mood. I hesitate to mention her because I get the sense that people are a little tired of hearing about her and that my ignorance on the subject verges on the exhausting. (I'm thinking specifically of another favorite frayer, rundeep.) But not having heard from someone who for the last 6 months would call me every day is not necessarily single-handedly responsible for the chronic blahs and slight panic attacks. I wish there were a pill that made everything seem fine, like Prosium in Equilibrium (Great movie!). I would so take that drug and not even complain. Who cares about art and music and prose and poetry if all it does is make life worth living, anyway?
My diet's improved, but I'm still about 15-20 pounds underweight. But I'm not sleeping well. (That's the beer talking.) Though I don't look like Christian Bale in The Machinist. Yet. (Though I've not committed vehicular manslaughter that I know of. Yet.)
So I need to move, but not literally. Clearly what I do need is change, whether it be in routine or state of mind or drug abuse or alcohol abuse or whatever. Because it's become pretty obvious to me here of late that the self-medication regimen I've got myself on just ain't workin'. I've been spending a lot of time by myself, which, while not catastrophic, doesn't exactly make for good conversation all the time. I mean there's only so much you can tell 2 dogs and a cat before you start saving all the newspapers and make forts out of them in the basement. (Thank god I don't have a basement.)
It's not so much that I'm only happy when I'm miserable. It's more like I'm only miserable when I'm happy. It's just that the whole thing is so demoralizingly stupid because it's all my own doing, my own accord.
Perspective. Yet another of my favorite posters, Isonomist, lost a son to leukemia not long ago. And here I am bitching about nothing in particular. I mean, honestly: I'm reasonably healthy (Chortle!), I have a decent job (though severely underpaid), I have a great family (whom I never seem to find the time to visit), good friends (whom I blow off on a regular basis for no reason in particular), I have a decent sense of humor (I'd have to; it's either that or just crying all the time), and I have a huge alcohol tolerance. Everybody wins.
Oh well. Thanks for listening. Again.
Hit a bit of a low this weekend. Didn't do much of anything except watch tennis, obviously. But I was very unproductive, lethargic, and self-medicated.
One of my favorite posters on the fray, Slate's message boards, bright_virago, says that I need to move. I've been in Birmingham over 10 years now, longer than I've lived anywhere ever. I definitely see her point. The problem is that even if I were to move, I'd still have to take myself with me.
What I seem to be in the middle of is full-on all-out depression. As far as I can tell, it's not being caused by anything specifically, and it comes and goes, this overwhelming feeling of despair, hopelessness, pointlessness, anxiety. You know, all the fun stuff.
I need to quit smoking. When I quit successfully over 3 years ago (or whenever) for just over 9 months, I was on Zyban, which, if I'm not mistaken, is a mood stabilizer. I'm pretty sure I should be on something, and that beer and pot aren't doing a lot to improve my demeanor.
I haven't heard from the-one-that-got-away in a week. I'm sure that has something to do with my mood. I hesitate to mention her because I get the sense that people are a little tired of hearing about her and that my ignorance on the subject verges on the exhausting. (I'm thinking specifically of another favorite frayer, rundeep.) But not having heard from someone who for the last 6 months would call me every day is not necessarily single-handedly responsible for the chronic blahs and slight panic attacks. I wish there were a pill that made everything seem fine, like Prosium in Equilibrium (Great movie!). I would so take that drug and not even complain. Who cares about art and music and prose and poetry if all it does is make life worth living, anyway?
My diet's improved, but I'm still about 15-20 pounds underweight. But I'm not sleeping well. (That's the beer talking.) Though I don't look like Christian Bale in The Machinist. Yet. (Though I've not committed vehicular manslaughter that I know of. Yet.)
So I need to move, but not literally. Clearly what I do need is change, whether it be in routine or state of mind or drug abuse or alcohol abuse or whatever. Because it's become pretty obvious to me here of late that the self-medication regimen I've got myself on just ain't workin'. I've been spending a lot of time by myself, which, while not catastrophic, doesn't exactly make for good conversation all the time. I mean there's only so much you can tell 2 dogs and a cat before you start saving all the newspapers and make forts out of them in the basement. (Thank god I don't have a basement.)
It's not so much that I'm only happy when I'm miserable. It's more like I'm only miserable when I'm happy. It's just that the whole thing is so demoralizingly stupid because it's all my own doing, my own accord.
Perspective. Yet another of my favorite posters, Isonomist, lost a son to leukemia not long ago. And here I am bitching about nothing in particular. I mean, honestly: I'm reasonably healthy (Chortle!), I have a decent job (though severely underpaid), I have a great family (whom I never seem to find the time to visit), good friends (whom I blow off on a regular basis for no reason in particular), I have a decent sense of humor (I'd have to; it's either that or just crying all the time), and I have a huge alcohol tolerance. Everybody wins.
Oh well. Thanks for listening. Again.
Friday, August 31, 2007
The 4,000th Dead American G.I. Office Pool
That's right, kids. It's that time o'year again already. And the clock's a'tickin'. So get out your strip club singles and pick your squares, because if you can't grift some cash from needless death, what's the use of war profiteering in the first place!?
With an average of 1,000 G.I. deaths per year, why should 2007 be any different? Because if you don't see soldiers as military industrial complex pawns, then you're probably not looking in the right direction.
So rack your brain, get the prognosticating juices flowing, and pick the day ole number 4,000 takes a bullet for folks who don't want us there, and faster than you can justify torture, you'll be swimming in fabulous prizes much the same way wounded vets were stewing in their own feces over there at Walter Reed.
The winner will receive:
-A "Support our troops by putting a 'Support Our Troops' bumper sticker on your soccer mom punk'd out Humvee that in no way really does anything palpable to support our troops other than reveal your own morbid sense of 2nd-hand 3rd-rate patriotism to other motor vehicle operators" bumper sticker
-Freedom ("management" reserves the right to [re]define "freedom" as it sees fit at any time for any reason without notice, always)
-A terror-free week on our own shores (date TBD, BYOB)
-The knowledge that your vote in 2004 was in no small way complicit in his/her death
-Chronic disenfranchisement, again
-A Johnson & Johnson patented navel lint remover
-Nationally mandated guilt
-An authentic FOX News "We Report. You decide. Nobody cares." bumper sticker
-A Nancy Grace action figure that vomits up facts before checking them against actual facts before even family members have been informed of something that may or may not have happened to loved ones
-Scented bath salts
-Even more freedom (such that it is, when convenient, time permitting, some restrictions may apply)
-A "We went all the way to Iraq to liberate something/someone and all we got was this stupid civil war" coffee mug
-An "I [heart] KBR" lapel pin
-A "Here's their blood. Now where's our oil?" refrigerator magnet
-Personalized phone tap transcripts
-A "Bombs Over Bagdad" ring tone
-A some expense-paid trip to the 4,000th dead American G.I.'s funeral, where you will witness first-hand democracy on the run--er, march
-A commemorative 9/11 pewter hand-washing basin
-A "4,000 kids died in the desert on a lie and all I got was this T-shirt that says 'Spreading Democracy Rules!!!'" T-shirt
-A reelected president who's technically retarded (I have the test scores)
-A "My great-great-great-granddaughter will be an honor student at Dubya Junior High -- she's also going to pay for this war, in every sense" bumper sticker
-A clue
That's right, folks. The 4,000th dead G.I., whether he or she be Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marine, is right around the corner (probably around the corner of that building that just exploded). So don't miss out on an opportunity to profit from it. Your favorite corporations sure haven't, so why shouldn't you?
But if you really want to support our troops, then enlist, you faggots. Why should my nephews have to fight for your freedom to download porn off The Internets? I suspect that if every one of you Bush supporters were drafted, the war would be over in a week. Who knows? Maybe you could be number 5,000. It's worth a look. Or are you unfit for duty, having, like Larry Craig, Ted Haggard and Mark Foley, suffered from a blow to the head?
And if you can guess what town he or she is from, we'll fly you there where you can explain to his or her family that unless more men and women are sent to die alone in the desert for freedom (or is it for democracy), then his or her death would be rendered meaningless. Good luck!
With an average of 1,000 G.I. deaths per year, why should 2007 be any different? Because if you don't see soldiers as military industrial complex pawns, then you're probably not looking in the right direction.
So rack your brain, get the prognosticating juices flowing, and pick the day ole number 4,000 takes a bullet for folks who don't want us there, and faster than you can justify torture, you'll be swimming in fabulous prizes much the same way wounded vets were stewing in their own feces over there at Walter Reed.
The winner will receive:
-A "Support our troops by putting a 'Support Our Troops' bumper sticker on your soccer mom punk'd out Humvee that in no way really does anything palpable to support our troops other than reveal your own morbid sense of 2nd-hand 3rd-rate patriotism to other motor vehicle operators" bumper sticker
-Freedom ("management" reserves the right to [re]define "freedom" as it sees fit at any time for any reason without notice, always)
-A terror-free week on our own shores (date TBD, BYOB)
-The knowledge that your vote in 2004 was in no small way complicit in his/her death
-Chronic disenfranchisement, again
-A Johnson & Johnson patented navel lint remover
-Nationally mandated guilt
-An authentic FOX News "We Report. You decide. Nobody cares." bumper sticker
-A Nancy Grace action figure that vomits up facts before checking them against actual facts before even family members have been informed of something that may or may not have happened to loved ones
-Scented bath salts
-Even more freedom (such that it is, when convenient, time permitting, some restrictions may apply)
-A "We went all the way to Iraq to liberate something/someone and all we got was this stupid civil war" coffee mug
-An "I [heart] KBR" lapel pin
-A "Here's their blood. Now where's our oil?" refrigerator magnet
-Personalized phone tap transcripts
-A "Bombs Over Bagdad" ring tone
-A some expense-paid trip to the 4,000th dead American G.I.'s funeral, where you will witness first-hand democracy on the run--er, march
-A commemorative 9/11 pewter hand-washing basin
-A "4,000 kids died in the desert on a lie and all I got was this T-shirt that says 'Spreading Democracy Rules!!!'" T-shirt
-A reelected president who's technically retarded (I have the test scores)
-A "My great-great-great-granddaughter will be an honor student at Dubya Junior High -- she's also going to pay for this war, in every sense" bumper sticker
-A clue
That's right, folks. The 4,000th dead G.I., whether he or she be Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marine, is right around the corner (probably around the corner of that building that just exploded). So don't miss out on an opportunity to profit from it. Your favorite corporations sure haven't, so why shouldn't you?
But if you really want to support our troops, then enlist, you faggots. Why should my nephews have to fight for your freedom to download porn off The Internets? I suspect that if every one of you Bush supporters were drafted, the war would be over in a week. Who knows? Maybe you could be number 5,000. It's worth a look. Or are you unfit for duty, having, like Larry Craig, Ted Haggard and Mark Foley, suffered from a blow to the head?
And if you can guess what town he or she is from, we'll fly you there where you can explain to his or her family that unless more men and women are sent to die alone in the desert for freedom (or is it for democracy), then his or her death would be rendered meaningless. Good luck!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Larry Craig Is Not Gay
Please refrain from your leaps of illogic, ill-informed American public. I mean, honestly, just because Larry's had one in his mouth doesn't mean he's had his shit packed. But unless you realize that playing footsies in the airport john constitutes nothing more than a case of nervous leg disorder, he'll never get it in the end.
Just because the writing's on the wall, or, in this particular case, the stall, doesn't mean he's playing Hide The Tube Steak every Friday at the Don't Ask Don't Tell Motor Lodge off route 19. (Hourly rates available. Discretion Advised. Free lube.)
He may or may not be a liar. He may or may not be forthright. He even may or may not have given Richard Simmons a handjob between red eyes to the coast and back. But one thing we can be relatively certain about is that Larry Craig is not gay.
He's very not attractive
This one should be obvious, kids. Gay men of the homosexual persuasion are almost to a man attractive. I mean, look at Tom Cruise!?
He dresses poorly
Uh-oh. Looks like ole Larry's feeling the fallout since Details magazine padlocked the doors. I've seen better dressers at an IT convention.
He's an idiot
Gays are many things. And stupid just ain't one of them. Take a number, Betty.
Idaho disallows the illegal immigration of homosexuality across its borders
Ouch! Learned that one the hard way, literally.
Cher is just another aging pop star to him
Larry's version of "If I Could Turn Back Time" that he performs every Thursday during karaoke night at The Shaft Club's drag queen review almost always flops, and he totally stole his choreography to "Life After Love" from Bette Midler, not Madonna. Ever heard of a hobby, you assholes?
HIs wife decorated their home
All Larry did was look at hundreds of Ralph Lauren paint chips and thousands of Martha Stewart cloth swatches just to "get her going in the right direction", more or less.
The emergency room cucumber removal thing was totally accidental, all 7 times
Everybody, and I do mean everybody knows that holding a cucumber up your ass strengthens the sphincter and prevents rectal cancer. Are you people retarded?
He's married
But duh! Listen up: gay dudes don't get married. They just don't. Even if they're in the closet, trying on the wife's Manolos or seeing if grandma's wedding dress still fits. Case closed.
So, to sum up: Larry Craig isn't gay because of bad genes, bad jeans, inattentive shopping schedules, illegal alienations, gypsies tramps & thieves, exposed brick being so 80s, a whole new meaning to the phrase "salad shooter", and "a marriage of convenience" or "a carriage of man-venience".
[sigh] I'll just be over here talking to myself some more.
Just because the writing's on the wall, or, in this particular case, the stall, doesn't mean he's playing Hide The Tube Steak every Friday at the Don't Ask Don't Tell Motor Lodge off route 19. (Hourly rates available. Discretion Advised. Free lube.)
He may or may not be a liar. He may or may not be forthright. He even may or may not have given Richard Simmons a handjob between red eyes to the coast and back. But one thing we can be relatively certain about is that Larry Craig is not gay.
He's very not attractive
This one should be obvious, kids. Gay men of the homosexual persuasion are almost to a man attractive. I mean, look at Tom Cruise!?
He dresses poorly
Uh-oh. Looks like ole Larry's feeling the fallout since Details magazine padlocked the doors. I've seen better dressers at an IT convention.
He's an idiot
Gays are many things. And stupid just ain't one of them. Take a number, Betty.
Idaho disallows the illegal immigration of homosexuality across its borders
Ouch! Learned that one the hard way, literally.
Cher is just another aging pop star to him
Larry's version of "If I Could Turn Back Time" that he performs every Thursday during karaoke night at The Shaft Club's drag queen review almost always flops, and he totally stole his choreography to "Life After Love" from Bette Midler, not Madonna. Ever heard of a hobby, you assholes?
HIs wife decorated their home
All Larry did was look at hundreds of Ralph Lauren paint chips and thousands of Martha Stewart cloth swatches just to "get her going in the right direction", more or less.
The emergency room cucumber removal thing was totally accidental, all 7 times
Everybody, and I do mean everybody knows that holding a cucumber up your ass strengthens the sphincter and prevents rectal cancer. Are you people retarded?
He's married
But duh! Listen up: gay dudes don't get married. They just don't. Even if they're in the closet, trying on the wife's Manolos or seeing if grandma's wedding dress still fits. Case closed.
So, to sum up: Larry Craig isn't gay because of bad genes, bad jeans, inattentive shopping schedules, illegal alienations, gypsies tramps & thieves, exposed brick being so 80s, a whole new meaning to the phrase "salad shooter", and "a marriage of convenience" or "a carriage of man-venience".
[sigh] I'll just be over here talking to myself some more.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Israel: Pragmatism and Marketing
Israel isn't a nation. It's a state of mind. Israel is one of the few countries in history to put forward an image of almost exactly how she would have the world see her, and do it the least unsuccessfully for the non-shortest period of time. (2nd place goes to Rome circa 21 B.C.-15 A.D.)
I wonder why the Darfur refugees aren't clamoring to get into, say, Palestine, or Jordan. I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that Israel is the least scarily insane country in the region by half. And it's not like Zion is passing those psychological Rorschach tests with flying colors, especially here of late.
My point is that by virtue of the severity of The Holocaust, the European persuasion of most the persecuted Jews (i.e., well educated, civilized, a need for cultural and social diversions that allow us to participate in the divine, non-brown skin, good with money/vaudville, and a natural aptitude for producing blockbuster hits at the box office), and a nationalistic pride of self-determination that's injected into its citizenry in the womb practically at conception, it's not exactly a secret that Israel probably isn't going to have much trouble putting together a pretty popular and compelling ad campaign when it comes to defending its fickle attitude with regard to decency and morality.
I.e., your entire extended family having been baked in an oven in Poland mixed with an almost innate ability to "tell a story" has a pretty long-lived political shelf life, turns out. And it'll play just as well in Peoria as it will in Rwanda.
So, again: Why are they not breaking down the border fences of Lebanon or Syria? And why aren't Syria and Lebanon held to the same standards when it comes to political hypocrisy and moral duplicitousness?
Because Neither Palestine, Syria nor Lebanon have the testicular fortitude to back up their less-than-higher-road activities with some actual positive and ultimately end-justifies-the-means progress. (See Munich.)
I.e., Why is Israel always cast as the bad guy when it's 9 times out of 10 Israel conceding something, whether it be political capital, land, or the well-wishes of its opportunistic allies? (Hi, Washington, D.C.!)
Me? I'd like to unburden myself from the tyrannical region of America and flee to New Zealand. The problem is, New Zealand's immigration policy is stricter than Israel's in that you may only emigrate there if you can perform a useful function no native Kiwi can. But since I can hum our national anthem out of tune modulating no fewer than 11 times and still end up in the same key I started in, all while balancing on top of a basketball, I think I'm good to go, literally.
Action-Oriented Morality
I wonder why the Darfur refugees aren't clamoring to get into, say, Palestine, or Jordan. I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that Israel is the least scarily insane country in the region by half. And it's not like Zion is passing those psychological Rorschach tests with flying colors, especially here of late.
My point is that by virtue of the severity of The Holocaust, the European persuasion of most the persecuted Jews (i.e., well educated, civilized, a need for cultural and social diversions that allow us to participate in the divine, non-brown skin, good with money/vaudville, and a natural aptitude for producing blockbuster hits at the box office), and a nationalistic pride of self-determination that's injected into its citizenry in the womb practically at conception, it's not exactly a secret that Israel probably isn't going to have much trouble putting together a pretty popular and compelling ad campaign when it comes to defending its fickle attitude with regard to decency and morality.
I.e., your entire extended family having been baked in an oven in Poland mixed with an almost innate ability to "tell a story" has a pretty long-lived political shelf life, turns out. And it'll play just as well in Peoria as it will in Rwanda.
So, again: Why are they not breaking down the border fences of Lebanon or Syria? And why aren't Syria and Lebanon held to the same standards when it comes to political hypocrisy and moral duplicitousness?
Because Neither Palestine, Syria nor Lebanon have the testicular fortitude to back up their less-than-higher-road activities with some actual positive and ultimately end-justifies-the-means progress. (See Munich.)
I.e., Why is Israel always cast as the bad guy when it's 9 times out of 10 Israel conceding something, whether it be political capital, land, or the well-wishes of its opportunistic allies? (Hi, Washington, D.C.!)
Me? I'd like to unburden myself from the tyrannical region of America and flee to New Zealand. The problem is, New Zealand's immigration policy is stricter than Israel's in that you may only emigrate there if you can perform a useful function no native Kiwi can. But since I can hum our national anthem out of tune modulating no fewer than 11 times and still end up in the same key I started in, all while balancing on top of a basketball, I think I'm good to go, literally.
Action-Oriented Morality
Friday, August 24, 2007
Raw Iraq War Report Footage Leaked
MISSION ACCOMPLICED
Secret Unedited Video Reveals Vast Centrist Conspiracy Afoot
Transcript Reads Like Robert Ludlum Thriller
Whoa! You won't see this on youtube. Forget your "Porn At The Pentagon" scandals. This one's got "obfuscation" written all over it in about 17 languages, including Farsi, and that South American one with all the throat and tongue click-popping. Many G.I.s are dying for this information. Proceed at your own risk.
"My Fellow Americans,
My name is Colonel David Patraeus.
[off camera] You're a general, sir.
That's what I said.
Anyways, the rumors are true: The surge is working, sort of. With the addition of 75,000 troops at the front line of the war on terror and an additional 35,000 troops functioning as a logistical support team behind enemy lines, the tide has turned.
[off camera] It was 20,000 and 10,000 respectively, respectably, sir.
Uhh, shut up. That's not the point.
We have control of the northern regions. [rattattattattat... rattattattattat...ttattat... rattattat]
The Turkishmen have subdued the rioting in the south. [rattattat... ttattattat... ttattat]
The western regions are all but back to their pre-war status, just without water, electricity, a sewage system, a Denny's [rattattat... ttattat], breathable air, dry cleaning, unbroken windows, non-looting based civilian activities [rattattattattattattattattat], unexploded cars not on fire, mosques, a Sizzler, or autocratic leanings. Other than that, out west they're partying like it's 1999 all over again. [rattattat... ttattat... rattattattattat]
Okay, somebody shoot the dude over there strafing us with a machine gun. We're rolling tape over here and all that gunfire we're taking is distracting.
Right. We've surrounded the pockets of insurgencies up and down the Euphrates, moving slowly village by village [ttattattat... ttattat... rattattat]
Yeah, I mean it, guys. Ice him before I drop a rocket propelled grenade down your skivvies.
I'm speaking to you from the very heart of the worldwide war against terrorism -- The Green Zone, which actually isn't green. It's mostly sand-colored with desert camo accents. Hey Steve? Rick? Find out why it's called The Green Zone, and for godsakes let's get some green stuff in here A-S-A-frickin'-P. Oh, there, look. The roof on the new KFC is green.
Ahem. When Saddam Hussein drove those 3 airplanes into the Sears Towers almost 6 years ago, he sent the world a clear message: Bill Clinton blew up those buildings with explosives and Nancy Pelosi helped. Well, our commander guy and his entourage have been sending a little message of their own back to the world since March of 2003.
[off camera] Uhh... They don't know what they're doing? Is that the message?
Okay, Les, shut the fuck up. You're destroying my rhythm with all your chop-busting and I can't concentrate on my motivation. This isn't exactly "smell the fart" acting, you dumbass. Roll back the teleprompter. Good. Let's pick it up there.
Ahem. We've made progress. Things are different than they were in March of 2003.
[off camera] You mean like the fact that there isn't any oil being pumped any more so there aren't any oil revenues to pay for this war?
No, brainiac. Saddam's been toppled and bin Laden's on the run.
[kaBLOOOOEY!!!]
Okay, what in h-e-double hockey sticks was that?
[off camera] Sorry, sir. Someone just blew up the Dairy Queen again. Looks like it's another night without Peanut Buster Parfets.
Those Dilly Bars are really good, too. I hate Klondikes, but the taffy ones are delicious.
Oh, great. Which one of you chuckleheads wants to tell me just precisely how the fuck long my little flag lapel pin thingie has been upside down? Les?
[off camera] You can't really see it. I'm framing you from the mid-shouler up. The CIA couldn't see it.
Well, excuse me if I don't take any comfort from that, seeing as how the CIA couldn't find Florida on a map of Florida.
[off camera] So do we need to reshoot the "Strolling From Downtown Freedomville To Safetyland Via Not-Out-Control-Anarchy Lane" scene?
No, I think the smoke from all the burning buildings will cover it up, if not at least distract the viewer from an upside down flag lapel pin on a colonel--
[off camera] General.
That's what I said.
Ahem. Saddam's on the run--
[off camera] He's dead, sir.
[awkward silence]
Les? May I?
[off camera] Sorry.
And Obama's probably dead already.
[off camera] Osama, sir.
But the prompter says "Obama". Who's Obama?
[off camera] Barack Obama? He's the appropriately light-skinned Magic Negro running for president against that lesbian lady.
Is he the guy that said we should invade Pakistan if we think they're harboring al Qaeda members? Yeah, I really like him. He seems to have this knack of cutting through all the bullshit about why we're here and why maybe we shouldn't be.
[kaBLAMMMMMMMO!!!]
Oh shit, there goes the bowling alley. Somebody call Zimm and tell him league night's off.
[off camera] Well, the Delta Force Players are doing Twelfth Night at The Jarhead Dinner Theater later.
Excellent. Gilmore Girls is a repeat anyway.
[off camera] I hate that show. Too much talking.
That's because you're gay.
[off camera] Don't ask, don't tell, sir.
Whatever. Let's get out of here. Too dicey. We'll hit The Mall Of Democracy to get some exteriors, then do the "10 Bucks For A Bag Of Trash" scene in front of the Sunglass Hut.
[off camera] "10 Bucks For" what, sir?
"10 Bucks For A Bag Of Trash"? That program we instituted in Kirkuk? Any villager who gathers a trash bag of garbage gets 10 bucks, pumping some much needed cash into the local economy. Like the surge, it's working. And I find it highly irregular to conjecture that the locals would abuse the program by manufacturing trash overnight to pick up in the morning for a 10 spot. Not gonna happen. Mark my words.
[off camera] Marked, sir. But where are we shooting the "Soldier Testimonials" scene?
At the Sonic. Coney night. And it really needs to look exactly like those montages when someone gets booted off So You Think You Can Dance.
[off camera] I love that show.
That's because you're gay.
[off camera] Hooyah!
Huh?
[kaPLOOOOOOOW!!!]"
To be continued.
Secret Unedited Video Reveals Vast Centrist Conspiracy Afoot
Transcript Reads Like Robert Ludlum Thriller
Whoa! You won't see this on youtube. Forget your "Porn At The Pentagon" scandals. This one's got "obfuscation" written all over it in about 17 languages, including Farsi, and that South American one with all the throat and tongue click-popping. Many G.I.s are dying for this information. Proceed at your own risk.
"My Fellow Americans,
My name is Colonel David Patraeus.
[off camera] You're a general, sir.
That's what I said.
Anyways, the rumors are true: The surge is working, sort of. With the addition of 75,000 troops at the front line of the war on terror and an additional 35,000 troops functioning as a logistical support team behind enemy lines, the tide has turned.
[off camera] It was 20,000 and 10,000 respectively, respectably, sir.
Uhh, shut up. That's not the point.
We have control of the northern regions. [rattattattattat... rattattattattat...ttattat... rattattat]
The Turkishmen have subdued the rioting in the south. [rattattat... ttattattat... ttattat]
The western regions are all but back to their pre-war status, just without water, electricity, a sewage system, a Denny's [rattattat... ttattat], breathable air, dry cleaning, unbroken windows, non-looting based civilian activities [rattattattattattattattattat], unexploded cars not on fire, mosques, a Sizzler, or autocratic leanings. Other than that, out west they're partying like it's 1999 all over again. [rattattat... ttattat... rattattattattat]
Okay, somebody shoot the dude over there strafing us with a machine gun. We're rolling tape over here and all that gunfire we're taking is distracting.
Right. We've surrounded the pockets of insurgencies up and down the Euphrates, moving slowly village by village [ttattattat... ttattat... rattattat]
Yeah, I mean it, guys. Ice him before I drop a rocket propelled grenade down your skivvies.
I'm speaking to you from the very heart of the worldwide war against terrorism -- The Green Zone, which actually isn't green. It's mostly sand-colored with desert camo accents. Hey Steve? Rick? Find out why it's called The Green Zone, and for godsakes let's get some green stuff in here A-S-A-frickin'-P. Oh, there, look. The roof on the new KFC is green.
Ahem. When Saddam Hussein drove those 3 airplanes into the Sears Towers almost 6 years ago, he sent the world a clear message: Bill Clinton blew up those buildings with explosives and Nancy Pelosi helped. Well, our commander guy and his entourage have been sending a little message of their own back to the world since March of 2003.
[off camera] Uhh... They don't know what they're doing? Is that the message?
Okay, Les, shut the fuck up. You're destroying my rhythm with all your chop-busting and I can't concentrate on my motivation. This isn't exactly "smell the fart" acting, you dumbass. Roll back the teleprompter. Good. Let's pick it up there.
Ahem. We've made progress. Things are different than they were in March of 2003.
[off camera] You mean like the fact that there isn't any oil being pumped any more so there aren't any oil revenues to pay for this war?
No, brainiac. Saddam's been toppled and bin Laden's on the run.
[kaBLOOOOEY!!!]
Okay, what in h-e-double hockey sticks was that?
[off camera] Sorry, sir. Someone just blew up the Dairy Queen again. Looks like it's another night without Peanut Buster Parfets.
Those Dilly Bars are really good, too. I hate Klondikes, but the taffy ones are delicious.
Oh, great. Which one of you chuckleheads wants to tell me just precisely how the fuck long my little flag lapel pin thingie has been upside down? Les?
[off camera] You can't really see it. I'm framing you from the mid-shouler up. The CIA couldn't see it.
Well, excuse me if I don't take any comfort from that, seeing as how the CIA couldn't find Florida on a map of Florida.
[off camera] So do we need to reshoot the "Strolling From Downtown Freedomville To Safetyland Via Not-Out-Control-Anarchy Lane" scene?
No, I think the smoke from all the burning buildings will cover it up, if not at least distract the viewer from an upside down flag lapel pin on a colonel--
[off camera] General.
That's what I said.
Ahem. Saddam's on the run--
[off camera] He's dead, sir.
[awkward silence]
Les? May I?
[off camera] Sorry.
And Obama's probably dead already.
[off camera] Osama, sir.
But the prompter says "Obama". Who's Obama?
[off camera] Barack Obama? He's the appropriately light-skinned Magic Negro running for president against that lesbian lady.
Is he the guy that said we should invade Pakistan if we think they're harboring al Qaeda members? Yeah, I really like him. He seems to have this knack of cutting through all the bullshit about why we're here and why maybe we shouldn't be.
[kaBLAMMMMMMMO!!!]
Oh shit, there goes the bowling alley. Somebody call Zimm and tell him league night's off.
[off camera] Well, the Delta Force Players are doing Twelfth Night at The Jarhead Dinner Theater later.
Excellent. Gilmore Girls is a repeat anyway.
[off camera] I hate that show. Too much talking.
That's because you're gay.
[off camera] Don't ask, don't tell, sir.
Whatever. Let's get out of here. Too dicey. We'll hit The Mall Of Democracy to get some exteriors, then do the "10 Bucks For A Bag Of Trash" scene in front of the Sunglass Hut.
[off camera] "10 Bucks For" what, sir?
"10 Bucks For A Bag Of Trash"? That program we instituted in Kirkuk? Any villager who gathers a trash bag of garbage gets 10 bucks, pumping some much needed cash into the local economy. Like the surge, it's working. And I find it highly irregular to conjecture that the locals would abuse the program by manufacturing trash overnight to pick up in the morning for a 10 spot. Not gonna happen. Mark my words.
[off camera] Marked, sir. But where are we shooting the "Soldier Testimonials" scene?
At the Sonic. Coney night. And it really needs to look exactly like those montages when someone gets booted off So You Think You Can Dance.
[off camera] I love that show.
That's because you're gay.
[off camera] Hooyah!
Huh?
[kaPLOOOOOOOW!!!]"
To be continued.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Then There's All That
There's a certain freedom to posting on a blog, as opposed to, say, BotF, that seems to be rooted in the knowledge that here I'll only be read by about 4 people (high estimate?) whereas on the fray I'll be read by, say, 11 people. It means I'm free to hit grounders down the line as opposed to swinging for the fences every time.
Still, I miss the attention.
Gradually catching up with Big Brother 8. Danielle is utterly captivating. This season reminds me of Deadwood, were Deadwood staged in a house no one can leave in SoCal and all the characters are not armed (that we know of) and the bad words get bleeped. And people bathe somewhat regularly. Other than that, factoring in all the alcohol, the 2 shows are practically mirror images of one another, were the mirror one of those funhouse mirrors, and the room is dimly lit.
But, yeah, Danielle.
It's really nice to see twiff's and bacon's babies. It makes me happy. I suspect I'll never get married or have children, which is just as well because they're so expensive and needy, and I'm poor and selfish. Me and childlessness will continue to be a good fit.
I've not been lonely very often, and I'm not now. I've almost always preferred my own company to that of others, with a few major exceptions. What I am is indescribably frustrated and discouraged by the-one-that-got-away's disingenuousness and obtuseness. She works now only three days a week in B'ham, invites me over to her hotel room to get high, then proceeds to browbeat me about my drinking. "You know, I'm not going to sit around and watch you drink too much. It's not fair to you or to me. It's really unhealthy. Now finish this bowl I've loaded for you after you've passed me that carton of cigarettes, ASAP." Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks for holding me to higher standards than you hold anyone else to and then not really ever treating me concordantly when I meet those standards.
Say, you two: Remember the privacy fence, that glorious 9-foot wall of empowerment I built last fall? Remember that one poor dog I felt bad for? Well, one of my other neighbors, a truly excellent neighbor who had a 6-foot fence built to block out the ignorant retards, who was trying to socialize that awful dog because she, like me, loves dogs and, unlike me, is a saint, she finally broke down and called animal control because that dog wouldn't get socialized and found a way to get back into her yard and my other great neighbor's yard and bark at them for being in their own yards. Animal control picked it up last night. I expect some sort of dust up.
Which reminds me: I should probably finish my "Michael Vick, Some Final Thoughts" post for BotF. Or not for them. Don't know.
Yep: Worm-burner down the 3rd base line, runner advances. Not bad. Doesn't mean I won't occasionally lean back and turn the hips on a hanging corn-cutter (Iowan for curve ball) out over the plate. I mean, it's me, right?
Still, I miss the attention.
Gradually catching up with Big Brother 8. Danielle is utterly captivating. This season reminds me of Deadwood, were Deadwood staged in a house no one can leave in SoCal and all the characters are not armed (that we know of) and the bad words get bleeped. And people bathe somewhat regularly. Other than that, factoring in all the alcohol, the 2 shows are practically mirror images of one another, were the mirror one of those funhouse mirrors, and the room is dimly lit.
But, yeah, Danielle.
It's really nice to see twiff's and bacon's babies. It makes me happy. I suspect I'll never get married or have children, which is just as well because they're so expensive and needy, and I'm poor and selfish. Me and childlessness will continue to be a good fit.
I've not been lonely very often, and I'm not now. I've almost always preferred my own company to that of others, with a few major exceptions. What I am is indescribably frustrated and discouraged by the-one-that-got-away's disingenuousness and obtuseness. She works now only three days a week in B'ham, invites me over to her hotel room to get high, then proceeds to browbeat me about my drinking. "You know, I'm not going to sit around and watch you drink too much. It's not fair to you or to me. It's really unhealthy. Now finish this bowl I've loaded for you after you've passed me that carton of cigarettes, ASAP." Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks for holding me to higher standards than you hold anyone else to and then not really ever treating me concordantly when I meet those standards.
Say, you two: Remember the privacy fence, that glorious 9-foot wall of empowerment I built last fall? Remember that one poor dog I felt bad for? Well, one of my other neighbors, a truly excellent neighbor who had a 6-foot fence built to block out the ignorant retards, who was trying to socialize that awful dog because she, like me, loves dogs and, unlike me, is a saint, she finally broke down and called animal control because that dog wouldn't get socialized and found a way to get back into her yard and my other great neighbor's yard and bark at them for being in their own yards. Animal control picked it up last night. I expect some sort of dust up.
Which reminds me: I should probably finish my "Michael Vick, Some Final Thoughts" post for BotF. Or not for them. Don't know.
Yep: Worm-burner down the 3rd base line, runner advances. Not bad. Doesn't mean I won't occasionally lean back and turn the hips on a hanging corn-cutter (Iowan for curve ball) out over the plate. I mean, it's me, right?
Monday, August 20, 2007
Transformer, A Movie Review
Out just in time for this summer’s annual Heat Wave And Humidity Festival in the deep south, Transformer asks the very question I’ve had stumbling around in the ole hat rack 3 years ago, namely, What happens when you’re trying to fix your own indoor furnace/AC unit by buying a transformer at the wholesale HVAC place, and you inadvertently wire the thing backwards?
Answer: It smokes for about 3 seconds, and then the central air completely and utterly stops working. And the house heats up to about 135 degrees in the span of 2 hours. You might as well be sitting in a hot tub in some South American jungle. With no water in it, even.
Set in the lush foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in beautiful cinematography-friendly Birmingham, Alabama, our hero is confused as to why his unit keeps blowing the little 5 amp fuse thingie.
He never finds out, of course. But when he finally has to break down and call a professional, the professional, seeing the backwards wiring, asks our hero if he wants to know exactly what it was that he did wrong.
Our hero declines, disgusted with himself.
And just like that, 10 minutes of work and 200 dollars later, our hero’s abode cools all the way back down to 91 degrees in the mere span of 16 hours. Thanks, deep south in July/Augus!
The end.
Answer: It smokes for about 3 seconds, and then the central air completely and utterly stops working. And the house heats up to about 135 degrees in the span of 2 hours. You might as well be sitting in a hot tub in some South American jungle. With no water in it, even.
Set in the lush foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in beautiful cinematography-friendly Birmingham, Alabama, our hero is confused as to why his unit keeps blowing the little 5 amp fuse thingie.
He never finds out, of course. But when he finally has to break down and call a professional, the professional, seeing the backwards wiring, asks our hero if he wants to know exactly what it was that he did wrong.
Our hero declines, disgusted with himself.
And just like that, 10 minutes of work and 200 dollars later, our hero’s abode cools all the way back down to 91 degrees in the mere span of 16 hours. Thanks, deep south in July/Augus!
The end.
Friday, August 17, 2007
We're Having A Heat Wave, A Tropical Heat Wave
The temperature's rising
It isn't surprising
She certainly can can-can
Today officially marks the end of 9 (or was it 10?) consecutive days of triple-digit temperatures in Birmingham. We also happen to be in the midst of the worst drought in recorded history (or is it "recorder history"?). The annual rainfall is over 2 feet shy of where it's supposed to be this time of year, and it looks like it's going to stretch through the fall and winter.
But this post isn't about global warming; it's about something else entirely; it's just that I'm not sure what it's about yet.
But that's a whole 'nother post.
Tomatoes aren't particularly thirsty plants, requiring a mere 1 inch of rain per week. And they really thrive in humidity. But they don't seem to thrive in 103 degree weather for a week and a half. And I've had to water them, and 14 rose plants, illegally 13 times now.
The combined heat and humidity created heat indices above 110 degrees. A guy in Mobile died when he got drunk one morning and passed out in his car, the interior of which rose to 150 degrees. (Note to self: I've got and excellent idea on how to defrost a roast in pretty short order on the cheap. $$$!!!)
I actually caught on fire Sunday when I was weeding the beds, but I think that had less to do with the heat and more to do with trying to light a cigarette with a magnifying glass.
The Birmingham Water Works Board very early in the summer declared massive reductions in the reservoir levels from where we get our water. Then they threatened folks with surcharges if citizens' water usage exceeded a certain number of gallons, doubling one's utility bill for all intents and purposes.
They threaten fines and jail time for those watering illegally. Meanwhile my neighbors who are selling their house have practically set up a hydroponic water village theme park in the front yard, with 2 sprinklers going all out at high noon. It's like my last suggestion card for my gym: "Hey. Why don't you, in addition to having rules governing the use of the indoor pool, enforce said rules. Thanks!"
Then it was revealed that The Birmingham Water Works cannot account for 26% of the water it produces, a percentage significantly above that of the national "standard". I.e., the Water Works wastes over a quarter of all the water that runs out of there.
So instead of finding out where the "leak" is and plugging it, they make us pay them to lose water. They ask us to conserve water while they might as well be letting all the Southside fire hydrants spew full blast all weekend every weekend. They've got a toilet running over in accounting and I'm squatting in front of a camellia bush that looks so bad I'm waiting for I Am Who Am to start yammering on and out about 10 rules of thumb that may or may not come in handy down the road, and my Japanese Maple makes Nagasaki circa '45 seem like a fireworks display. (Or was it?)
The real beauty of it is that 1.) they've known about the "leak" for years and have done nothing about it; 2.) we've had droughts before and they've not put in place preventative measures for future relief; and 3.) i.e., they've not learned from their mistakes. I'm beginning to wonder if they're running the war effort, and it's actually not a jukebox tuned in to a discarded Chinese satellite aimlessly circling Neptune calling the shots. Or by an insane retard.
I suppose it's simply yet another case of the preferred method of bureaucratic management philosophy: We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but we won't because it'll collapse before we get to the other side--[ka-FWOOOOSH!!!]
Listen: If I'm going to pay my city utilities to fuck me up the ass with a strap-on, I'd damn sure better have some weird masochistic sex fetish, because otherwise I just don't think I'd be getting my money's worth. And I won't even mention the fact that it's not the most efficient use of my personal finances. Or of my asshole, for that matter.
It isn't surprising
She certainly can can-can
Today officially marks the end of 9 (or was it 10?) consecutive days of triple-digit temperatures in Birmingham. We also happen to be in the midst of the worst drought in recorded history (or is it "recorder history"?). The annual rainfall is over 2 feet shy of where it's supposed to be this time of year, and it looks like it's going to stretch through the fall and winter.
But this post isn't about global warming; it's about something else entirely; it's just that I'm not sure what it's about yet.
But that's a whole 'nother post.
Tomatoes aren't particularly thirsty plants, requiring a mere 1 inch of rain per week. And they really thrive in humidity. But they don't seem to thrive in 103 degree weather for a week and a half. And I've had to water them, and 14 rose plants, illegally 13 times now.
The combined heat and humidity created heat indices above 110 degrees. A guy in Mobile died when he got drunk one morning and passed out in his car, the interior of which rose to 150 degrees. (Note to self: I've got and excellent idea on how to defrost a roast in pretty short order on the cheap. $$$!!!)
I actually caught on fire Sunday when I was weeding the beds, but I think that had less to do with the heat and more to do with trying to light a cigarette with a magnifying glass.
The Birmingham Water Works Board very early in the summer declared massive reductions in the reservoir levels from where we get our water. Then they threatened folks with surcharges if citizens' water usage exceeded a certain number of gallons, doubling one's utility bill for all intents and purposes.
They threaten fines and jail time for those watering illegally. Meanwhile my neighbors who are selling their house have practically set up a hydroponic water village theme park in the front yard, with 2 sprinklers going all out at high noon. It's like my last suggestion card for my gym: "Hey. Why don't you, in addition to having rules governing the use of the indoor pool, enforce said rules. Thanks!"
Then it was revealed that The Birmingham Water Works cannot account for 26% of the water it produces, a percentage significantly above that of the national "standard". I.e., the Water Works wastes over a quarter of all the water that runs out of there.
So instead of finding out where the "leak" is and plugging it, they make us pay them to lose water. They ask us to conserve water while they might as well be letting all the Southside fire hydrants spew full blast all weekend every weekend. They've got a toilet running over in accounting and I'm squatting in front of a camellia bush that looks so bad I'm waiting for I Am Who Am to start yammering on and out about 10 rules of thumb that may or may not come in handy down the road, and my Japanese Maple makes Nagasaki circa '45 seem like a fireworks display. (Or was it?)
The real beauty of it is that 1.) they've known about the "leak" for years and have done nothing about it; 2.) we've had droughts before and they've not put in place preventative measures for future relief; and 3.) i.e., they've not learned from their mistakes. I'm beginning to wonder if they're running the war effort, and it's actually not a jukebox tuned in to a discarded Chinese satellite aimlessly circling Neptune calling the shots. Or by an insane retard.
I suppose it's simply yet another case of the preferred method of bureaucratic management philosophy: We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but we won't because it'll collapse before we get to the other side--[ka-FWOOOOSH!!!]
Listen: If I'm going to pay my city utilities to fuck me up the ass with a strap-on, I'd damn sure better have some weird masochistic sex fetish, because otherwise I just don't think I'd be getting my money's worth. And I won't even mention the fact that it's not the most efficient use of my personal finances. Or of my asshole, for that matter.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Iraq Study Group Minutes Leaked
[Cut me some slack; I thought this baby deserved a new home because, and let's be perfectly honest here, I don't trust the new fray's stewardship of the old fray. So be on the lookout for reruns.]
A Brief Glimpse Inside A Think Tank
Secret Notes Prove Diplomacy Alive And Well In Fantasy Land
Talk about a Hot Document. Man. I just hope nobody's preggers! Caution: Many Bothans died for this information. Proceed at your own risk.
"September 20, 2006
8:45 AM – 8:52 AM, Discuss whether or not Iraq is a country
8:53 AM – 9:08 AM, Conclude that it is, and that it's somewhere in the middle of The East
9:09 AM – 9:12 AM, Discuss Iran as a future threat to U.S.
9:13 AM – 10:21 AM, Discuss the slow, sad, painful toilet swirl that is Britney Spears' career and reputation, and the giant, huge enormity of her sow-like weight gain
10:22, Break for brunch
1:35 PM – 1:46 PM, Discuss possible troop withdrawal as early as next Spring
1:47 PM – 3:15 PM, Discuss possible candidacy for presidential run and campaign as early as this Spring
3:16 PM – 4:44 PM, Smoke break (for Hamilton, trying to quit, 5th time now)
4:45 PM – 4:48 PM, Realize it's almost 5:00 PM and call it a day
September 21, 2006
10:15 AM – 10:23 AM, Waiting on Baker in the bathroom (apparently a piece of his sausage biscuit "broke off" and Jimmy Dean decided to "throw his hat into the ring", P and U)
10:24 AM – 11:56 AM, Heated discussion on how loose stools are responsible for more diplomatic snafus than any other single bodily function
11:57 AM – 12:09 PM, Discuss Alan K. Simpson's "Daisy with a Smiley Face", and unanimously vote it Best Doodle of the Day
12:09 PM – 12:35 PM, Read aloud the minutes from yesterday's session
12:36 PM – 12:45 PM, Conclude yesterday was quite productive, break for lunch
2:47 PM – 2:51 PM, Discuss Iran's nuclear capabilities and how that relates to uranium enrichment
2:52 PM – 2:55 PM, Conclude that it doesn't, or won't anyway
2:56 PM – 4:35 PM, Discuss whether or not TomKat's baby Suri is an alien space robot
4:36 PM – 4:40 PM, Conclude to leave it up to further discussion
4:41 PM – ???, Quick Boggle™ tournament snowballs out of control, track of time lost
September 22, 2006
11:30 AM – 11:32 AM, Discuss breaking for lunch
11:33 AM – 11:34 AM, Conclude to agree to break for lunch
2:36 PM – 2:41 PM, Discuss Syria's influence over Lebanon
2:41 PM – 3:45 PM, Get sidetracked and conclude Mel was definitely "under the influence"
3:46 PM – 4:30 PM, Get sidetracked further and discuss "the Israel influence in America"
4:31 PM – 5:50 PM, Conference call with The Bilderberg Group
5:51 PM – 6:36 PM, Get sidetracked further and discuss Jolie's influence over Pitt
6:37 PM – 6:40 PM, Get sidetracked even further and conclude that Johnny Depp's eyes are "dreamy"
6:41 PM – 6:43 PM, (Allegedly) destroy today's minutes, adjourn 'till tomorrow, 7:30 AM, to get an early start and avoid the eerily early holiday traffic
September 23, 2006
9:48 AM – 10:12 AM, Discuss if we weren't the only ones trying to avoid the eerily early holiday traffic
10:13 AM – 10:15 AM, Conclude that we weren't
10:16 AM, Break for brunch (Ed Meese made poppy seed muffins, Yum!)
1:20 PM – 1:35 PM, Discuss Lebanon's influence over the Palestinian people
1:36 PM – 2:10 PM, Discuss Beverly Hills 90210's influence over The OC
2:11 PM – 2:33 PM, Conclude that they shouldn't have killed off Marissa last season because Mischa Barton was one of the few reasons anyone watched the show in the first place
2:34 PM – 5:31 PM, Discuss Mischa's career, from playing a little girl whose mother is feeding her Cream of Drano soup in The Sixth Sense all the way to Closing The Ring, which, concluded excitedly, could be what Pulp Fiction was for Uma Thurman
5:32 PM – 5:46 PM, Discuss whether or not Sandra Day O'Connor is "holding"
5:47 PM – 5:50 PM, Conclude that she is
5:51 PM – 6:09 PM, Rolling papers search
6:10 PM – 6:11 PM, Eureka! Thanking god for Georgetown grad students
6:12 PM – 6:23 PM, Pass to the right
6:24 PM – 9:15 PM, Discuss how the Gilligan's Island episode with the Japanese soldier who thinks World War 2 is still going on could so totally happen in real life
9:16 PM – 9:45 PM, "Munchies Patrol", locate vending machine, Panetta breaks glass with his head, score
9:46 PM – ???, ???
September 24, 2006
12:24 PM – 12:36 PM, Look at each other somewhat embarrassed in silence
12:37 PM – 4:15 PM, Read yesterday's minutes aloud and try to piece together exactly what happened
4:16 PM – 5:01, Conclude that those incidents will stay in this room forever
5:02 PM – 5:14 PM, Discuss insurgency thingie
5:15 PM – 5:18 PM, Conclude that we need to tell Iran and Syria to knock it off in a stern letter in so many words
5:18 PM – 6:35 PM, Discuss tonight's upcoming episode of Deal Or No Deal
6:36 PM – 7:01 PM, Conclude NBC is trying desperately to keep the contestants very "melting pot-ish" looking
7:02, Larry Eagleburger shows up with case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and a Giant bag of Funyuns (conclude he's still high)
7:03 PM – 9:05 PM, "Belch-off"
9:06 PM – 9:43 PM, Discuss how Shallow Hal was robbed at the Oscars
9:44 PM – 9:50 PM, Group hug, goes on a little to long, Vernon Jordan blamed
9:51 PM – 9:52 PM, Hurried leaving and goodbyes
Septemeber 25 – December 2, 2006, Much deserved group hiatus
December 3, 2006 ("The Day Of Conclusions, And Atonement")
9:15 AM, Conclude that The United State of America did indeed at some point in the last 4 years or so in fact invade Iraq, which is indeed in fact a country
9:30 AM, Conclude that everything was going just fine in Iraq right up until the midterm elections, at which point it started going not just fine, and that it's almost as if the Iraq thingie turned into a giant, civil war quagmire virtually over night (weird)
9:40 AM, Conclude that O'Connor should apologize to Baker for calling him a useless has-been with breath that could stop an American military invasion that's sort of not legal
9:45 AM, Conclude that it's imperative that the new Democratically controlled House and Senate work with President Bush, unlike how uncooperative the House and Senate were when they were controlled by the President's own party (also weird)
10:10 AM, Conclude that there really is something to The Powell Doctrine of Overwhelming Force (not to mention the switters Doctrine of Overwhelming Cocktails), and that it's almost always a good idea when you're invading another country to bring 3 more divisions than you think you really need (and one more keg than you think they can drink)
10:20 AM, Conclude that playing partisan politics is almost never a good reason for 11 soldiers to die
10:30 AM, Conclude, ultimately, that talk is still pretty cheap these days, and that, on account of inflation, should be a real feather in the cap for you supply-siders"
A Brief Glimpse Inside A Think Tank
Secret Notes Prove Diplomacy Alive And Well In Fantasy Land
Talk about a Hot Document. Man. I just hope nobody's preggers! Caution: Many Bothans died for this information. Proceed at your own risk.
"September 20, 2006
8:45 AM – 8:52 AM, Discuss whether or not Iraq is a country
8:53 AM – 9:08 AM, Conclude that it is, and that it's somewhere in the middle of The East
9:09 AM – 9:12 AM, Discuss Iran as a future threat to U.S.
9:13 AM – 10:21 AM, Discuss the slow, sad, painful toilet swirl that is Britney Spears' career and reputation, and the giant, huge enormity of her sow-like weight gain
10:22, Break for brunch
1:35 PM – 1:46 PM, Discuss possible troop withdrawal as early as next Spring
1:47 PM – 3:15 PM, Discuss possible candidacy for presidential run and campaign as early as this Spring
3:16 PM – 4:44 PM, Smoke break (for Hamilton, trying to quit, 5th time now)
4:45 PM – 4:48 PM, Realize it's almost 5:00 PM and call it a day
September 21, 2006
10:15 AM – 10:23 AM, Waiting on Baker in the bathroom (apparently a piece of his sausage biscuit "broke off" and Jimmy Dean decided to "throw his hat into the ring", P and U)
10:24 AM – 11:56 AM, Heated discussion on how loose stools are responsible for more diplomatic snafus than any other single bodily function
11:57 AM – 12:09 PM, Discuss Alan K. Simpson's "Daisy with a Smiley Face", and unanimously vote it Best Doodle of the Day
12:09 PM – 12:35 PM, Read aloud the minutes from yesterday's session
12:36 PM – 12:45 PM, Conclude yesterday was quite productive, break for lunch
2:47 PM – 2:51 PM, Discuss Iran's nuclear capabilities and how that relates to uranium enrichment
2:52 PM – 2:55 PM, Conclude that it doesn't, or won't anyway
2:56 PM – 4:35 PM, Discuss whether or not TomKat's baby Suri is an alien space robot
4:36 PM – 4:40 PM, Conclude to leave it up to further discussion
4:41 PM – ???, Quick Boggle™ tournament snowballs out of control, track of time lost
September 22, 2006
11:30 AM – 11:32 AM, Discuss breaking for lunch
11:33 AM – 11:34 AM, Conclude to agree to break for lunch
2:36 PM – 2:41 PM, Discuss Syria's influence over Lebanon
2:41 PM – 3:45 PM, Get sidetracked and conclude Mel was definitely "under the influence"
3:46 PM – 4:30 PM, Get sidetracked further and discuss "the Israel influence in America"
4:31 PM – 5:50 PM, Conference call with The Bilderberg Group
5:51 PM – 6:36 PM, Get sidetracked further and discuss Jolie's influence over Pitt
6:37 PM – 6:40 PM, Get sidetracked even further and conclude that Johnny Depp's eyes are "dreamy"
6:41 PM – 6:43 PM, (Allegedly) destroy today's minutes, adjourn 'till tomorrow, 7:30 AM, to get an early start and avoid the eerily early holiday traffic
September 23, 2006
9:48 AM – 10:12 AM, Discuss if we weren't the only ones trying to avoid the eerily early holiday traffic
10:13 AM – 10:15 AM, Conclude that we weren't
10:16 AM, Break for brunch (Ed Meese made poppy seed muffins, Yum!)
1:20 PM – 1:35 PM, Discuss Lebanon's influence over the Palestinian people
1:36 PM – 2:10 PM, Discuss Beverly Hills 90210's influence over The OC
2:11 PM – 2:33 PM, Conclude that they shouldn't have killed off Marissa last season because Mischa Barton was one of the few reasons anyone watched the show in the first place
2:34 PM – 5:31 PM, Discuss Mischa's career, from playing a little girl whose mother is feeding her Cream of Drano soup in The Sixth Sense all the way to Closing The Ring, which, concluded excitedly, could be what Pulp Fiction was for Uma Thurman
5:32 PM – 5:46 PM, Discuss whether or not Sandra Day O'Connor is "holding"
5:47 PM – 5:50 PM, Conclude that she is
5:51 PM – 6:09 PM, Rolling papers search
6:10 PM – 6:11 PM, Eureka! Thanking god for Georgetown grad students
6:12 PM – 6:23 PM, Pass to the right
6:24 PM – 9:15 PM, Discuss how the Gilligan's Island episode with the Japanese soldier who thinks World War 2 is still going on could so totally happen in real life
9:16 PM – 9:45 PM, "Munchies Patrol", locate vending machine, Panetta breaks glass with his head, score
9:46 PM – ???, ???
September 24, 2006
12:24 PM – 12:36 PM, Look at each other somewhat embarrassed in silence
12:37 PM – 4:15 PM, Read yesterday's minutes aloud and try to piece together exactly what happened
4:16 PM – 5:01, Conclude that those incidents will stay in this room forever
5:02 PM – 5:14 PM, Discuss insurgency thingie
5:15 PM – 5:18 PM, Conclude that we need to tell Iran and Syria to knock it off in a stern letter in so many words
5:18 PM – 6:35 PM, Discuss tonight's upcoming episode of Deal Or No Deal
6:36 PM – 7:01 PM, Conclude NBC is trying desperately to keep the contestants very "melting pot-ish" looking
7:02, Larry Eagleburger shows up with case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and a Giant bag of Funyuns (conclude he's still high)
7:03 PM – 9:05 PM, "Belch-off"
9:06 PM – 9:43 PM, Discuss how Shallow Hal was robbed at the Oscars
9:44 PM – 9:50 PM, Group hug, goes on a little to long, Vernon Jordan blamed
9:51 PM – 9:52 PM, Hurried leaving and goodbyes
Septemeber 25 – December 2, 2006, Much deserved group hiatus
December 3, 2006 ("The Day Of Conclusions, And Atonement")
9:15 AM, Conclude that The United State of America did indeed at some point in the last 4 years or so in fact invade Iraq, which is indeed in fact a country
9:30 AM, Conclude that everything was going just fine in Iraq right up until the midterm elections, at which point it started going not just fine, and that it's almost as if the Iraq thingie turned into a giant, civil war quagmire virtually over night (weird)
9:40 AM, Conclude that O'Connor should apologize to Baker for calling him a useless has-been with breath that could stop an American military invasion that's sort of not legal
9:45 AM, Conclude that it's imperative that the new Democratically controlled House and Senate work with President Bush, unlike how uncooperative the House and Senate were when they were controlled by the President's own party (also weird)
10:10 AM, Conclude that there really is something to The Powell Doctrine of Overwhelming Force (not to mention the switters Doctrine of Overwhelming Cocktails), and that it's almost always a good idea when you're invading another country to bring 3 more divisions than you think you really need (and one more keg than you think they can drink)
10:20 AM, Conclude that playing partisan politics is almost never a good reason for 11 soldiers to die
10:30 AM, Conclude, ultimately, that talk is still pretty cheap these days, and that, on account of inflation, should be a real feather in the cap for you supply-siders"
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Deadwood: Season 3, Part 2
(Part 1's on Best of the Fray. Suckers!)
So Alma's back on the junk, Leon has an extended conversation with his reflection in a mud puddle, Steve has an extended conversation with a horse and then proceeds, I can only guess, to get his brains kicked in by it, a horse belonging to Little Nigger General, no less, the same "black bastard" who has the misfortune of stumbling across Steve's body, Al has an extended conversation with, that's right, the dead indian's chopped off head-in-a-box, Dan yanks out Captain Turner's eyeball and then brains him with some firewood.
And Sheriff Bullock has the brilliant idea of leading Hearst out of the Belle Union by the ear like he's 7 years old for all to see from miles away when Captain Turner's body isn't even cold yet and leaves him in jail overnight with the corpse whose murder he's accused of authoring days before? He's quite the strategerist, a regular Karl Rove of the wild west there, Seth. Oh, good, Charlie. Antagonize him some more while you're over there separating the Wells Fargo and Sears catalogues. Very constructive.
My favorite line thus far has to be Al to Trixie: "Get the fuck out, you loopy cunt!"
Tolliver's scene with Hearst and Swearingen challenged the intestinal fortitude of my subwoofer.
Watching the fist fight on youtube's tiny little window with monaural audio did justice to neither the choreography, the brutality, nor the sound design. I feel like I really know just exactly what it sounds like to crush a man's skull with a faggot, or to have your face bitten into.
The number of times I need to see Jane naked I can count on no hands.
The irony of Steve getting killed (presumably) by the horse owned by a member of a race that he finds inferior all the while engaged in trying to trick that member of that race into staying and working at his newly acquired livery out of some twisted sense of affection since Hostetler played peekaboo with a sawed off cannon because he couldn't stand being called a liar is a bitter pill only Milch would make us swallow.
The number of times I need to see Jody naked I can count on one penis.
I think I've still got a few more episodes to go, but I'm still worried that after the last episode ends, I'm going to feel like I've just had sex but never achieved an orgasm. Wish me luck.
So Alma's back on the junk, Leon has an extended conversation with his reflection in a mud puddle, Steve has an extended conversation with a horse and then proceeds, I can only guess, to get his brains kicked in by it, a horse belonging to Little Nigger General, no less, the same "black bastard" who has the misfortune of stumbling across Steve's body, Al has an extended conversation with, that's right, the dead indian's chopped off head-in-a-box, Dan yanks out Captain Turner's eyeball and then brains him with some firewood.
And Sheriff Bullock has the brilliant idea of leading Hearst out of the Belle Union by the ear like he's 7 years old for all to see from miles away when Captain Turner's body isn't even cold yet and leaves him in jail overnight with the corpse whose murder he's accused of authoring days before? He's quite the strategerist, a regular Karl Rove of the wild west there, Seth. Oh, good, Charlie. Antagonize him some more while you're over there separating the Wells Fargo and Sears catalogues. Very constructive.
My favorite line thus far has to be Al to Trixie: "Get the fuck out, you loopy cunt!"
Tolliver's scene with Hearst and Swearingen challenged the intestinal fortitude of my subwoofer.
Watching the fist fight on youtube's tiny little window with monaural audio did justice to neither the choreography, the brutality, nor the sound design. I feel like I really know just exactly what it sounds like to crush a man's skull with a faggot, or to have your face bitten into.
The number of times I need to see Jane naked I can count on no hands.
The irony of Steve getting killed (presumably) by the horse owned by a member of a race that he finds inferior all the while engaged in trying to trick that member of that race into staying and working at his newly acquired livery out of some twisted sense of affection since Hostetler played peekaboo with a sawed off cannon because he couldn't stand being called a liar is a bitter pill only Milch would make us swallow.
The number of times I need to see Jody naked I can count on one penis.
I think I've still got a few more episodes to go, but I'm still worried that after the last episode ends, I'm going to feel like I've just had sex but never achieved an orgasm. Wish me luck.
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