Okay, first I have to go on record as saying that I am deeply opposed to interpersonal violence. With the exception of punching the odd bully, I’ve never seen fisticuffs solve anything.
But, for some reason, fighting is a badge of honor amongst the ignorati. Canned whoopass has long been a staple of the stupid man’s diet. And a couple of items in the news today only serve to reinforce my thesis.
Now, lest you think I’m talking about Kid Rock and Tommy Lee bitch-slapping each other over two midgets ‘rasslin’ in a bikini top, think again (I actually thought that was some funny shit. Good thing Tommy didn’t get his dick out, or Kid would have been facing more than assault charges).
No, I’m referring first to the two fellers in the Oklahoma bar, one of whom was wearing a University of Texas T-shirt, the other of whom was a rabid Sooners fan. Now, I must admit that I had pangs of “stupid motherfucker deserved it” for wearing such provocative attire. Seriously stupid move.
And this was Oklahoma after all, where the average IQ is generally lower than the temperature on any given day. But instead of simply saying stupid, sophomoric things to each other, the Okie tried to rip the nuts off of the Longhorn and nearly succeeded. Seriously. Left the guy bloodied and his boys hanging by a thread.
Chances are pretty good the Okie will be convicted, but I think the judge should get creative in the sentencing. I mean, come on, jail time isn’t going to impact this yokel. Anybody who would try to rip another man’s balls off over an argument about collegiate sports rivalries has probably already spent some time in the pokey.
Some suggestions:
Make HIM wear ONLY University of Texas apparel for the next 10 years.
Or, prohibit him from wearing ANY sports related clothing or attending any sporting event for 5 years.
Or, make him go back and finish the 4th grade.
Actually, they should just lock him up in jail in Texas. Half the folks in there are former Longhorn football players anyway. That would teach him a lesson.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Friday, September 7, 2007
. . . And Takin’ Names
I don’t know why ANYTHING stupid that GW does surprises me anymore. But, this may be my all time favorite, if for no other reason than to affirm, in jaw-dropping fashion, how ridiculously cocky and clueless our President is.
As we know, Bush is in Australia, the country that is kind of like a cooler cousin to the U.S., but with their own complete fucktard of a leader, but I digress.
Anyhoo, Bushie stopped by the Iraq on the way just to bolster the morale of the troops and, you know, check in. Then, after arriving in Australia, a conversation between Bush and a Deputy Prime Minister was caught by the press. When the fella asked Bush how it was going in the Iraq, Bush replied—SWEAR to God—“We’re kickin’ ass!”
Then he apparently went to a kegger.
Seriously, is he that deluded? You'd be hard pressed to find ANYONE who would even classify the war on Iraq as a success. But "We're kickin' ass?" Wow. Maybe he just got it backwards and meant to say, "We're getting our ass kicked." That would ccertainly make more sense.
This is the second thing Bush has said while Down Under that just floored me. The first was when he was walking into a formal dinner, accompanied by Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice. He turned to Secretary Rice and said, “You can be my date.” WHA?!!? She’s the fucking Secretary of STATE, dude. He would never have said that to Colin Powell.
Oh, Dr. Rice! They ate your brain, didn’t they? January 20, 2009 can't come soon enough.
As we know, Bush is in Australia, the country that is kind of like a cooler cousin to the U.S., but with their own complete fucktard of a leader, but I digress.
Anyhoo, Bushie stopped by the Iraq on the way just to bolster the morale of the troops and, you know, check in. Then, after arriving in Australia, a conversation between Bush and a Deputy Prime Minister was caught by the press. When the fella asked Bush how it was going in the Iraq, Bush replied—SWEAR to God—“We’re kickin’ ass!”
Then he apparently went to a kegger.
Seriously, is he that deluded? You'd be hard pressed to find ANYONE who would even classify the war on Iraq as a success. But "We're kickin' ass?" Wow. Maybe he just got it backwards and meant to say, "We're getting our ass kicked." That would ccertainly make more sense.
This is the second thing Bush has said while Down Under that just floored me. The first was when he was walking into a formal dinner, accompanied by Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice. He turned to Secretary Rice and said, “You can be my date.” WHA?!!? She’s the fucking Secretary of STATE, dude. He would never have said that to Colin Powell.
Oh, Dr. Rice! They ate your brain, didn’t they? January 20, 2009 can't come soon enough.
Fred Thompson’s campaign bumper sticker should say “I’m With Stupid.”
Appearing on Diane Sawyer last night, Thompson was asked how he would handle bin Laden and Al Qaeda differently than Bush’s people. Now, if you’re running for President, and terrorism is the major issue on people’s minds, don’t you think you would have that answer down pat? Apparently not. You be the judge:
Thompson: “You don't know what the president knows in terms of intelligence as to how they can pinpoint where Osama bin Laden is right now. I think the point is clearly he's there, clearly he's somewhere along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border and clearly he's still giving orders. And the even broader concern that Americans should have is that al-Qaida is still out there in the world. They're in western Europe, they're in the United States, they're in Iraq.
Iraq is a part of global effort, a global war that al-Qaida and radical fundamental Muslims have been carrying on against us for some time. We didn't pay much attention to it for a while but we are now and we're finding there's a global war going on against us. And we better figure out a way to contain it because it's going to be with us for a long time after Iraq.”
Thompson has said publicly that he wants to be seen as “Reagan’s Heir.” Well, Senator, I think you're well on your way. Hopefully, the American people won’t fall for it a second time, though.
Thompson: “You don't know what the president knows in terms of intelligence as to how they can pinpoint where Osama bin Laden is right now. I think the point is clearly he's there, clearly he's somewhere along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border and clearly he's still giving orders. And the even broader concern that Americans should have is that al-Qaida is still out there in the world. They're in western Europe, they're in the United States, they're in Iraq.
Iraq is a part of global effort, a global war that al-Qaida and radical fundamental Muslims have been carrying on against us for some time. We didn't pay much attention to it for a while but we are now and we're finding there's a global war going on against us. And we better figure out a way to contain it because it's going to be with us for a long time after Iraq.”
Thompson has said publicly that he wants to be seen as “Reagan’s Heir.” Well, Senator, I think you're well on your way. Hopefully, the American people won’t fall for it a second time, though.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Show The Baby The Buffet!
A poll this summer showed that 50% of parents who have overweight children aren’t aware that their kids are too fat. Can I get a big collective Scooby Doo “huunh?” What exactly DO they think when they can only see PART of their child in the mirror. Or when Tubbers keeps his homework in the folds of his stomach? Love is blind, for sure, but really?
Maybe I should start a sideline career as a “fat spotter.” I could just walk up to those clueless parents in the mall or in line at the Popeye’s Fried Chicken and say something sensitive, like, “My, he’s a jumbo lad, isn’t he?” Or, “that’s quite a large ass for an eight year old.”
Then I’d ask for a dollar.
With 25 million kids in the US considered overweight or obese, I’d have my work cut out for me. But with stupid people making more fat babies every day, I smell a cottage industry. If “fat” and “cottage” aren’t oxymoronic. (me? I’m pan-moronic). Or maybe that smell is something else.
Or MAYBE I could be a child walker. People pay buttloads of money in New York to have others walk their dogs, why not walk fat children for a little folding money. The really good dog walkers use rollerblades and handle, like, eight dogs at a time. I wonder how many fat children I could wrangle at once? Maybe if I hooked them to the front of a red wagon and made them pull me around. I could dangle a Pop Tart on a string in front of them to keep them moving—I’d never need my car . . .You know, I think I’m onto something. I could solve childhood obesity and global warming with one solution. No cars, just fat kids pulling wagons. Except what do I do when they get skinny?
Maybe I should start a sideline career as a “fat spotter.” I could just walk up to those clueless parents in the mall or in line at the Popeye’s Fried Chicken and say something sensitive, like, “My, he’s a jumbo lad, isn’t he?” Or, “that’s quite a large ass for an eight year old.”
Then I’d ask for a dollar.
With 25 million kids in the US considered overweight or obese, I’d have my work cut out for me. But with stupid people making more fat babies every day, I smell a cottage industry. If “fat” and “cottage” aren’t oxymoronic. (me? I’m pan-moronic). Or maybe that smell is something else.
Or MAYBE I could be a child walker. People pay buttloads of money in New York to have others walk their dogs, why not walk fat children for a little folding money. The really good dog walkers use rollerblades and handle, like, eight dogs at a time. I wonder how many fat children I could wrangle at once? Maybe if I hooked them to the front of a red wagon and made them pull me around. I could dangle a Pop Tart on a string in front of them to keep them moving—I’d never need my car . . .You know, I think I’m onto something. I could solve childhood obesity and global warming with one solution. No cars, just fat kids pulling wagons. Except what do I do when they get skinny?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Throw Your Steroids Away, Boys. There’s a New Game in Town.
So a Johns Hopkins researcher has announced a breakthrough in muscle building. In mice. And from the pictures, it sure looks like a success. There you have one normal, average cute little mouse. And one beside him who looks like he works as a bouncer at mouse titty bar. The fucker’s huge. Not longer or taller, but just massive shoulders and glutes.
That sound you hear is muscle queens from WeHo to Chelsea spitting out their egg white omelettes and clearing space in the cupboard for new supplements.
Apparently it has something to do with myostatin and follestatin (no word on whether these people live on Staten Island, har, har, har!) which of course, is greek to me. Science is hard and confusing. There are no pretty colors and lab lights make your skin look awful. But I digress.
So, while there are all kinds of terrific possibilities to cure things like muscular dystrophy and “wasting" in AIDS patients, who are we kidding? This development is aimed squarely at the millions of Americans who want a more muscular physique. We’re talking gym rats and gym bunnies, not lab mice.
Now if they could just discover how to do this with brain cells . . .
That sound you hear is muscle queens from WeHo to Chelsea spitting out their egg white omelettes and clearing space in the cupboard for new supplements.
Apparently it has something to do with myostatin and follestatin (no word on whether these people live on Staten Island, har, har, har!) which of course, is greek to me. Science is hard and confusing. There are no pretty colors and lab lights make your skin look awful. But I digress.
So, while there are all kinds of terrific possibilities to cure things like muscular dystrophy and “wasting" in AIDS patients, who are we kidding? This development is aimed squarely at the millions of Americans who want a more muscular physique. We’re talking gym rats and gym bunnies, not lab mice.
Now if they could just discover how to do this with brain cells . . .
I Wonder If All of His Stances Are Wide
Poor Senator Craig and his “wide stance.” Don’t you love it when a new phrase enters the vernacular immediately and permanently? “Wardrobe malfunction,” anyone? And of course, it couldn’t happen to a more deserving person. Deeply closeted, self-loathing and aggressively homophobic. Seen it a million times. We in the Tribe always invoke Shakespeare, “Thou dost protest too much.”
But on to the juice!! First off, did you see the pictures of the arresting officer? Pretty, pretty, pretty. So you likes ‘em young and blonde, eh Senator? You must be in a special little tortured hell at the Capitol. All those pretty little Naz—I mean Young Republicans running around. You probably like to “accidentally” drop things when they’re around, don’t you. Like the soap.
All denials to the contrary, NO ONE on this planet believes that an innocent person pleads guilty. And also sir, with all due respect (read: NONE) when you’ve already plead guilty, you can’t, by definition, claim you’re innocent. Plus, dude, you’ve had, what, almost three months to think up a cover story? And the best you can come up with is "I'm NOT gay. I never have been."
Let me offer my assistance.
“The floor was wet, so I took a wider stance than usual. But even with my precautions, including trying to hold myself steady by grasping the underside of the stall wall, I became unbalanced and fell to the floor. As my head slid under the partition, I opened my mouth to cry for assistance. Imagine my shock when the officer’s penis slid into my mouth. As I tried to extricate myself, the back of my head hit the bottom of the stall wall, forcing me back down on the officer’s throbbing manhood. It was really quite comical. My repeated attempts to disengage could perhaps have been interpreted as 'bobbing,' but it was completely innocent, I assure you. It was much more Lucy and Ethel than Will and Grace.”
Or, this:
“I am NOT gay!” He declared. “But I do love an occasional dick in my ass after a long flight.”
Uh, Senator . . . your flight is ready for departure.
But on to the juice!! First off, did you see the pictures of the arresting officer? Pretty, pretty, pretty. So you likes ‘em young and blonde, eh Senator? You must be in a special little tortured hell at the Capitol. All those pretty little Naz—I mean Young Republicans running around. You probably like to “accidentally” drop things when they’re around, don’t you. Like the soap.
All denials to the contrary, NO ONE on this planet believes that an innocent person pleads guilty. And also sir, with all due respect (read: NONE) when you’ve already plead guilty, you can’t, by definition, claim you’re innocent. Plus, dude, you’ve had, what, almost three months to think up a cover story? And the best you can come up with is "I'm NOT gay. I never have been."
Let me offer my assistance.
“The floor was wet, so I took a wider stance than usual. But even with my precautions, including trying to hold myself steady by grasping the underside of the stall wall, I became unbalanced and fell to the floor. As my head slid under the partition, I opened my mouth to cry for assistance. Imagine my shock when the officer’s penis slid into my mouth. As I tried to extricate myself, the back of my head hit the bottom of the stall wall, forcing me back down on the officer’s throbbing manhood. It was really quite comical. My repeated attempts to disengage could perhaps have been interpreted as 'bobbing,' but it was completely innocent, I assure you. It was much more Lucy and Ethel than Will and Grace.”
Or, this:
“I am NOT gay!” He declared. “But I do love an occasional dick in my ass after a long flight.”
Uh, Senator . . . your flight is ready for departure.
That's Why It's Not Called a "Brains Pageant"
Of course, I can’t let it rest. Even after millions of YouTube viewings (probably half of which were me, laughing my ass off.)
I do have to say that I am thankful for the internet and the capability to expose this level of stupidity. As you all well know, I loves to kick back with a stiff drink or two (whatever. I hate math) and giggle at beauty pageants. It’s my long held dirty little secret. Don’t tell anyone, okay?
So seeing Miss South Carolina referring to “U.S. Americans” and “the Iraq” was not only pee-yourself funny, it’s pretty representative of most of the answers these girls give in these contests. Seriously. It’s a gold mine of unintentional laughs.
Poor Missy. Now she claims she was “in shock.” Honey, I’m pretty sure this wasn’t your first rodeo. So what was so shocking to you? The fact that so many of your peers couldn’t locate the U.S. on a map? Or the fact that Mario Lopez was more waxed and made up than you were?
Oh, and by the way . . . the problem isn’t that people don’t HAVE maps, dumbass. There’s not a burgeoning “mapless” population here. Although I’m surprised you didn’t recommend building some "mapless shelters," a place where people who didn’t know where they were could go for direction.
And speaking of maps, you’re going to need a good one to figure out your future. I for one would love to interview you. Can you imagine how she would respond to questioning?
ME: So, what qualifies you for this position?
HER: Well, um, like, when people, such as Secretaries or Garbage collectors, and world peace. Then, Peru and a tsunami and sadness. But hope is a beacon. The copy machine. Such as tragedy, but I want to help. In the cities and towns of all neighborhood Americans.
Of course, being the bitchy queen that I am, I wouldn’t end the interview there. No, I would ask a series of progressively obtuse questions, knowing that her Beauty Pageant DNA required her to answer in the most nonsensical way humanly possible. And I would record it for posterity. Or at least a few late night laughs when I’d exhausted my Tivo reservoir.
So, I wonder what her talent was?
I do have to say that I am thankful for the internet and the capability to expose this level of stupidity. As you all well know, I loves to kick back with a stiff drink or two (whatever. I hate math) and giggle at beauty pageants. It’s my long held dirty little secret. Don’t tell anyone, okay?
So seeing Miss South Carolina referring to “U.S. Americans” and “the Iraq” was not only pee-yourself funny, it’s pretty representative of most of the answers these girls give in these contests. Seriously. It’s a gold mine of unintentional laughs.
Poor Missy. Now she claims she was “in shock.” Honey, I’m pretty sure this wasn’t your first rodeo. So what was so shocking to you? The fact that so many of your peers couldn’t locate the U.S. on a map? Or the fact that Mario Lopez was more waxed and made up than you were?
Oh, and by the way . . . the problem isn’t that people don’t HAVE maps, dumbass. There’s not a burgeoning “mapless” population here. Although I’m surprised you didn’t recommend building some "mapless shelters," a place where people who didn’t know where they were could go for direction.
And speaking of maps, you’re going to need a good one to figure out your future. I for one would love to interview you. Can you imagine how she would respond to questioning?
ME: So, what qualifies you for this position?
HER: Well, um, like, when people, such as Secretaries or Garbage collectors, and world peace. Then, Peru and a tsunami and sadness. But hope is a beacon. The copy machine. Such as tragedy, but I want to help. In the cities and towns of all neighborhood Americans.
Of course, being the bitchy queen that I am, I wouldn’t end the interview there. No, I would ask a series of progressively obtuse questions, knowing that her Beauty Pageant DNA required her to answer in the most nonsensical way humanly possible. And I would record it for posterity. Or at least a few late night laughs when I’d exhausted my Tivo reservoir.
So, I wonder what her talent was?
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