WHY?!?!?! Why is it always Texas?
Maybe I should be grateful that I live in the land of blog-fodder, but really? I’m sure you’ve seen the reports of one of our very own, State Representative Betty Brown (R-Athens) and her efforts to push through Voter ID legislation. Her latest salvo was to recommend that Asian Americans (emphasis on AMERICANS) should change their names to make them easier to pronounce for white people.
“Rather than everyone here having to learn Chinese — I understand it’s a rather difficult language — do you think that it would behoove you and your citizens to adopt a name that we could deal with more readily here?” Brown said.
I am SPUTTERING. ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY SPUTTERING. You understand NOTHING, you ignorant ass.
“You and your citizens?” They’re AMERICAN, you fucking retard.
And “learn Chinese?” I guess it would just be way too much to expect Rep. Brown to understand the difference in Asian peoples. Fine if you’re some backwater housewife, who spends her days waiting for the latest Wal-Mart circular with bated breath. But you are an ELECTED OFFICIAL. Maybe it would “behoove” YOU, Mrs. Brown, to get the fuck out of our legislature and quit embarrassing the rest of us.
I mean seriously. How did this retard get elected? (I’m guessing because she represents Fucktard County, a heretofore unknown region of Texas.)
She’s making LAWS people. LAWS. This wigstand is making laws! Now she might be great at making cookies, lemonade, even pies for the church supper. But not laws. Leave that for people who actually have a clue.
Brown went on to tell an Organization of Chinese Americans representative, “Can’t you see that this is something that would make it a lot easier for you and the people who are poll workers if you could adopt a name just for identification purposes that’s easier for Americans to deal with?”
Not surprisingly, Brown refuses to apologize. The republican’s (shocker) mouthpiece said that Democrats “want this to just be about race.”
What the fuck else could it be about? Phonics?
The sad part is, how many people JUST LIKE HER are in elected office right now? People who somehow manage not to shove their sensible shoes into their gaping pie holes every time they speak. But I’m sure they’re there. That horrible woman in Oklahoma who has a personal crusade against homosexuals, Sally Kern? Reelected. And that’s just off the top of my head.
There ought to be a law.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Yes, I Know I'm Going to Hell
Caveat One: If you are a slave to political correctness, you might want to navigate elsewhere.
Caveat Two: If the terms “retarded,” “retard,” or “midget” offend, you might want to navigate away.
Oh, who am I kidding, you wouldn’t be reading this if you were wired like that . . . So, last night, an organization that I’m deeply involved in had a little outing. We partnered with the local professional basketball farm team for a night at the game. Since my dad played pro ball once-upon-a-time (back when they still wore tiny, satin shorts), I thought it would be fun to get him, my beloved and the offspring and show our support.
Luckily, two other people decided to do the same thing. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Obviously, this was a professional bloggers night out, right? And since bloggers are notoriously averse to pants and getting off of couches, that would explain the poor attendance, right? Not exactly. This was actually a respectable professional organization, but basically nobody showed up but us.
As we walked into the arena, I was having mild palpitations about some announcer proclaiming it “our night” and expecting there to be mad cheers from our section. I knew there was no way the six of us could generate the kind of volume needed to even begin to save face.
I needn’t have worried. You see, it’s never “your” night at the game. They’re not that stupid. They invited MANY groups to the game. For instance, it was also “Pet Rescue Night.” Five local rescue groups actually had cages full of sad-eyed creatures, each doing their best to appear irresistible. Mostly, they pulled it off.
There was also another group of dogs looking to be rescued. It was apparently Hoochie Night at the ballgame, as well. Their clothes, what little they were, appeared to have been sprayed on. In fact, I’ve seen Mystic tans that didn’t cling so tight to the skin. I’m sure these girls are big basketball fans.
Apparently, it was also Special Needs Night, as an extremely large contingent of severely retarded individuals descended upon the arena and, just to make my night perfect, all sat in our section. Well, I thought, maybe I can get them all to cheer when they call our group’s name? Or maybe I could just pretend to be retarded and cheer when they call THEIR group’s name. Or maybe I just AM retarded and should have stayed home.
I must say, there were quite a few characters in the bunch. And it actually made the game much more enjoyable to see their enthusiasm and humor, especially through their particular lens. But the really odd thing that struck me was how many “normal” people look mildly retarded. Now, you have to understand, the official group were very apparently afflicted. They suffered from physical affects as well as mental. They were not subtle. But then, some average Joe would walk by and I’d be struck by his or her resemblance to my section-mates. Could it be? Are the stupid people of the world actually just mildly retarded?
And watching the typical straight male sports fans go apoplectic on the refs, etc., then comparing that to the model behavior of the special needs gang, I realized that there is a place in this world for the word “retarded,” but not for these special needs kids
By the way, there was only one quasi-midget in the bunch. And I think he was actually with OUR group.
Caveat Two: If the terms “retarded,” “retard,” or “midget” offend, you might want to navigate away.
Oh, who am I kidding, you wouldn’t be reading this if you were wired like that . . . So, last night, an organization that I’m deeply involved in had a little outing. We partnered with the local professional basketball farm team for a night at the game. Since my dad played pro ball once-upon-a-time (back when they still wore tiny, satin shorts), I thought it would be fun to get him, my beloved and the offspring and show our support.
Luckily, two other people decided to do the same thing. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Obviously, this was a professional bloggers night out, right? And since bloggers are notoriously averse to pants and getting off of couches, that would explain the poor attendance, right? Not exactly. This was actually a respectable professional organization, but basically nobody showed up but us.
As we walked into the arena, I was having mild palpitations about some announcer proclaiming it “our night” and expecting there to be mad cheers from our section. I knew there was no way the six of us could generate the kind of volume needed to even begin to save face.
I needn’t have worried. You see, it’s never “your” night at the game. They’re not that stupid. They invited MANY groups to the game. For instance, it was also “Pet Rescue Night.” Five local rescue groups actually had cages full of sad-eyed creatures, each doing their best to appear irresistible. Mostly, they pulled it off.
There was also another group of dogs looking to be rescued. It was apparently Hoochie Night at the ballgame, as well. Their clothes, what little they were, appeared to have been sprayed on. In fact, I’ve seen Mystic tans that didn’t cling so tight to the skin. I’m sure these girls are big basketball fans.
Apparently, it was also Special Needs Night, as an extremely large contingent of severely retarded individuals descended upon the arena and, just to make my night perfect, all sat in our section. Well, I thought, maybe I can get them all to cheer when they call our group’s name? Or maybe I could just pretend to be retarded and cheer when they call THEIR group’s name. Or maybe I just AM retarded and should have stayed home.
I must say, there were quite a few characters in the bunch. And it actually made the game much more enjoyable to see their enthusiasm and humor, especially through their particular lens. But the really odd thing that struck me was how many “normal” people look mildly retarded. Now, you have to understand, the official group were very apparently afflicted. They suffered from physical affects as well as mental. They were not subtle. But then, some average Joe would walk by and I’d be struck by his or her resemblance to my section-mates. Could it be? Are the stupid people of the world actually just mildly retarded?
And watching the typical straight male sports fans go apoplectic on the refs, etc., then comparing that to the model behavior of the special needs gang, I realized that there is a place in this world for the word “retarded,” but not for these special needs kids
By the way, there was only one quasi-midget in the bunch. And I think he was actually with OUR group.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Bush is Back
Laura Bush was on TV last night. Apparently they were giving her some sort of award and she was in Austin to receive it. I used to really like her. I always felt she was the balancing force of good in that relationship. But as those fourteen years wore on (yes, people, we Texans had to endure nearly twice as much as the rest of you.) I grew up a bit and my jade grew a darker green. Now, I really just see her as a chain-smoking librarian and enabler. The girl who married up and down at the same time. She said they really missed Austin. Safe to say, we don’t miss them.
She commented on how welcome they had felt upon returning to Dallas. That there were all of these “Welcome Home George and Laura” signs. (I personally saw some of these on my last trip to Dallas. Not only was I shocked at the sentiment, but at the familiarity.) Needless to say, there are NO SIGNS LIKE THAT in Austin.
Seeing her made me also reflect on the cool, new progressive vibe that is sweeping the nation (gay marriage in the Heartland? Who knew? Thanks Iowa!). It’s like the Chileans must have felt after Pinochet fell, or Spain after Franco. We can finally get back to the idea of free speech without being branded a traitor rather than a dissenter.
In Texas however, we are still in dire need of vermin control. The Republicans, and not the good kind, are still very much in control of things here. Nowhere is that more evident than the fact that a Republican is running for Mayor of Austin. There are two good progressive candidates running, but our former Mayor, the oft-married, Carole Keeton McLellan Rylander Strahorn, also known as “One Tough Grandma” . . . excuse me, I had to vomit a little . . . has thrown her hat back in the ring. “Carole” as her campaign signs identify her (c’mon, there’s only so much real estate on the sign) was elected to statewide office several times as a Republican. Many folks in these parts felt that it was not so much a philosophical shift as it was an opportunistic one. She is more ambitious than she is principled. No shocker there when it comes to politics.
However, the thought that sweet little liberal Austin, long a bastion of free-thinkers, might actually elect a Republican sends shudders down my spine. Hopefully, the progressives won’t split the vote so badly that it opens the door for Grandma.
FYI, I’m almost as appalled at having a Grandma at the helm as I am a Republican. Not to be ageist, but if that’s how you primarily identify yourself, then go play with your grandkids and leave the rest of us alone. (Don’t poke my eyes out knittergran!)
I have nothing against Grandmas. I loved mine dearly. But I just don’t think that should be the qualification you run for public office on.
Now I do have to note that one of Carole’s kids, Mark McClellan, was the first White House official to write a scathing insider view of Bush’s performance. So, there’s that. I’m not sure what Bush’s nickname for Mark was, but I’m guessing the book probably earned him a brand new one.
Heckuva job!
She commented on how welcome they had felt upon returning to Dallas. That there were all of these “Welcome Home George and Laura” signs. (I personally saw some of these on my last trip to Dallas. Not only was I shocked at the sentiment, but at the familiarity.) Needless to say, there are NO SIGNS LIKE THAT in Austin.
Seeing her made me also reflect on the cool, new progressive vibe that is sweeping the nation (gay marriage in the Heartland? Who knew? Thanks Iowa!). It’s like the Chileans must have felt after Pinochet fell, or Spain after Franco. We can finally get back to the idea of free speech without being branded a traitor rather than a dissenter.
In Texas however, we are still in dire need of vermin control. The Republicans, and not the good kind, are still very much in control of things here. Nowhere is that more evident than the fact that a Republican is running for Mayor of Austin. There are two good progressive candidates running, but our former Mayor, the oft-married, Carole Keeton McLellan Rylander Strahorn, also known as “One Tough Grandma” . . . excuse me, I had to vomit a little . . . has thrown her hat back in the ring. “Carole” as her campaign signs identify her (c’mon, there’s only so much real estate on the sign) was elected to statewide office several times as a Republican. Many folks in these parts felt that it was not so much a philosophical shift as it was an opportunistic one. She is more ambitious than she is principled. No shocker there when it comes to politics.
However, the thought that sweet little liberal Austin, long a bastion of free-thinkers, might actually elect a Republican sends shudders down my spine. Hopefully, the progressives won’t split the vote so badly that it opens the door for Grandma.
FYI, I’m almost as appalled at having a Grandma at the helm as I am a Republican. Not to be ageist, but if that’s how you primarily identify yourself, then go play with your grandkids and leave the rest of us alone. (Don’t poke my eyes out knittergran!)
I have nothing against Grandmas. I loved mine dearly. But I just don’t think that should be the qualification you run for public office on.
Now I do have to note that one of Carole’s kids, Mark McClellan, was the first White House official to write a scathing insider view of Bush’s performance. So, there’s that. I’m not sure what Bush’s nickname for Mark was, but I’m guessing the book probably earned him a brand new one.
Heckuva job!
Monday, April 6, 2009
Begging for Mercy
Okay, don’t really care whether Madonna gets to add to her brood or not. But can you imagine when little Mercy James grows up in Malawi, discovers a pop star called Madonna, and is informed that she could have been the woman’s fourth child? I’m guesing that she will pull some diva shit that will PROVE she should have been adopted by the Material Girl.
Now, just in case Madge is reading, there is a bitchy gay blogger who would be happy to ride around in your G5. I would even call Guy Ritchie "Daddy" if it helped the other kids with consistency. AND, I would even pluck Lola's eyebrow. Really. I would be happy to. Every little girl should know the joy of two eyebrows.
So, jet your ass into Austin. As they say, it's "like a whole nother country."
Now, just in case Madge is reading, there is a bitchy gay blogger who would be happy to ride around in your G5. I would even call Guy Ritchie "Daddy" if it helped the other kids with consistency. AND, I would even pluck Lola's eyebrow. Really. I would be happy to. Every little girl should know the joy of two eyebrows.
So, jet your ass into Austin. As they say, it's "like a whole nother country."
The Dog Ate My Blog
You know, I’ve been trying to find an excuse for not blogging more. Or, point in fact, not blogging at all. I’d like to blame the economy. Work has been slow, so I’ve been dancing as fast as I can trying to scare up work (thankfully, it has been sufficiently scared up). I could blame the Obamas for putting me in the blissful state of relaxation, in spite of the worst recession since the big D (I mean, honestly, when was the last time you even THOUGHT of GWB? See what I mean.)
It’s certainly not for a lack of stupidity permeating my daily existence. Why just yesterday, at my favorite student crosswalk, a new high (low?) for pedestrian behavior. Two groups of friends, passing each other in the crosswalk, STOPPED TO CHAT. In the middle of the fucking crosswalk. Traffic came to a standstill while they exchanged pleasantries, punctuated, I’m sure, with many, “um . . likes” and “OMGs.”
Nadya Suleman can alter her appearances to look like a porn star version of Angelina Jolie and push out enough kids to form a government, but Madonna can’t adopt an African orphan.
A former soldier kills three cops who responded to a call from his mother, because his dog peed on her carpet. And he was stockpiling guns “to protect his constitutional rights.” So guns are okay, but gays aren’t?
So, I ask myself, do I have stupidity fatigue? I looked for symptoms.
I still get the headaches from exaggerated eye-rolling.
I’m still the bitterest queen at any party (except at dinner Saturday night, where John E. stole my sash and crown. Subtlety, girl, subtlety. We’re supposed to be LAUGHING with/at you, not squirming awkwardly in silence between courses.)
I’m like Velcro for stupid people. They approach and stick to me.
Nope, I think I’m just a big fucking slacker. And it’s absolutely gorgeous in Austin right now. And nothing really pisses me off when the weather is this good. But what the hell, let’s kick this thing off again. After all, April is the month of fools.
It’s certainly not for a lack of stupidity permeating my daily existence. Why just yesterday, at my favorite student crosswalk, a new high (low?) for pedestrian behavior. Two groups of friends, passing each other in the crosswalk, STOPPED TO CHAT. In the middle of the fucking crosswalk. Traffic came to a standstill while they exchanged pleasantries, punctuated, I’m sure, with many, “um . . likes” and “OMGs.”
Nadya Suleman can alter her appearances to look like a porn star version of Angelina Jolie and push out enough kids to form a government, but Madonna can’t adopt an African orphan.
A former soldier kills three cops who responded to a call from his mother, because his dog peed on her carpet. And he was stockpiling guns “to protect his constitutional rights.” So guns are okay, but gays aren’t?
So, I ask myself, do I have stupidity fatigue? I looked for symptoms.
I still get the headaches from exaggerated eye-rolling.
I’m still the bitterest queen at any party (except at dinner Saturday night, where John E. stole my sash and crown. Subtlety, girl, subtlety. We’re supposed to be LAUGHING with/at you, not squirming awkwardly in silence between courses.)
I’m like Velcro for stupid people. They approach and stick to me.
Nope, I think I’m just a big fucking slacker. And it’s absolutely gorgeous in Austin right now. And nothing really pisses me off when the weather is this good. But what the hell, let’s kick this thing off again. After all, April is the month of fools.
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