Tuesday, August 31, 2004

See, Biff Cry. Cry, Biff, Cry. Why, NYTimes? Why?

Sometimes, not often, but every once in a while, like after reading something like this, I look back on the days when slave codes prevented my ancestors from reading and prevented Antebellum whites from teaching them to, and I think, "Good times, good times." It's not often, rarely, in fact, but, clearly, seeing "budonkadonk" in The New York Times is one of those times, one of those occasions when I wish I couldn't make the lines and curves and crosses and dots speak to me.

Monday, August 30, 2004

I've Said It Before and, Now, I'll Say It Again: It's Like Looking into a Genetic Mirror

Sunday, August 29, 2004

"And the Colored Bloggers Say, 'Doo Do Doo Do Doo Do Do Doo'

I am a big Andy Warhol fan, a bigger Lou Reed fan, and the biggest Velvet Underground fan. That's probably why I love this so much.

Even if you're none of those things, you'll enjoy the link. It has this, a Walk on the Wild Side link, that takes you to a lyrics sheet with slang translations, which are a hoot. (My favorite: "colored: African-American. Acceptable at the time the song was written but now considered impolite.")

Go on. Get out of here. Enjoy.

Friday, August 27, 2004

Uncle George Wants You!

I tried to join, but they wouldn't have me. They were impressed with neither my warm, nor my fuzzy. Few are.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

"How Long," You Ask, "Before Our Society Hits Cultural Rock Bottom?" "Not Long," I Say. "20-30 More Minutes Tops"

Let me guess. The girls ring the doorbells, say "Trick or Treat," and bring their confectionary booty back to the little boys. The little boys say "Where's the rest of my candy, bitch," slap them, and take ninety percent of their collected candy bars, penny candy, and popcorn balls. Or, at least, I hope that's how it goes.

Any parent who dresses their kids up in these get-ups deserves to see exactly how funny the pimp-and-ho life is.

Oh, and by the way, "This country is going to hell in a bright pink, '74 Electra 225."

Coots like me, who lack a comprehension of modern times and its sensibility, have to say stuff like that every now and then. It's in the handbook.

Dead F@!*#KING Last

I played tennis in high school. I didn't play very well, but I played.

And I enjoyed it. A lot.

I was like this guy, Henri Leconte. When he was playing, broadcasters use to say that Leconte was more concerned with hitting good shots than he was in winning matches. They could barely hold their disgust as they did. They felt that he could win more tournaments and get more out of his talent if he focused more on just winning. I heard a version of that sentiment from my coach when I was playing.

I liked hitting the strokes. Forehands and backhands, overheads and serves, drop shots and volleys, all I wanted to do was take control of the point and then hit shot after perfect shot until the rally was done. If I won, fine; but, the important thing was taking advantage of the opportunity to swing the racket, to rebound the ball off the sweet shot as often as possible.

My coach said I could win more matches if I cut my rallies short, ended play at the earliest possible opening. He was probably right. But that wouldn't have been any fun. Ending the points earlier would've meant less court time, not more.

And I just wanted to play.

I think that's why I'm so in love with this, a record of the performances of the least successful Olympians. Yeah, the author admits he started this, partly, because he's an enormous prick, to make fun of the big losers, but he also admits to doing it to celebrate participation over winning, to recording the achievements, such as they are, of athletes who just came to the games to play. I can dig that.

Saturday, August 21, 2004

I Can't Tell You How Sorry I Am about This

My friend The Law Guy, over at I Respectfully Dissent, use to amuse me with the reported Google searches that brought visitors to his site--inquiries so ridiculously off-topic for a blog devoted to the law, matters related to its practice, and his experience as a defense attorney that if I didn't know better, I'd say he was making them all up. Now, I'm a believer, because, today, I was notified that Google directed someone to my blog after typing "anusitis" into his search bar.

And I couldn't be sorrier about that. Someone with an inflamed anus turned to Google for knowledge and, possibly, relief, and all he got was me. That's sad, bordering on tragic. What he did in a previous life to deserve this is beyond my imagination, but it must have been awful, for which this is, then, well deserved. Still, my conscience won't let me shrug it off, my part in his karmic retribution being more than I'm comfortable with. So, whoever you are, "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry," ad infinitum.

Keep trying. I'm sure knowledge and relief are just one more mouse click away. Godspeed.

And if I may make a suggestion, I'm not so sure "My anus is inflamed to the point of concern. I think I'll seek help on Google" should be your thought process. Your thought process should be along these lines: "Painful. Swollen. Orifice. Must. Seek. Medical. Care." Please do.

And, again, Godspeed.

Friday, August 20, 2004

Date to Save People from Hell

Friends and I debated whether or not this Web site was a scam. They were sure it was; I was willing to allow that faith could generate it.

At least, I was until I saw its shopping page. This is not the thong of a carpenter.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

"Liar, Liar..."

"I'm sorry Mr. Thurlow. We can't run anymore of your commercials until you address the issue with your pants, which these military records, obtained by The Washington Post through the Freedom of Information Act, clearly show are on fire."

Adult Diapers Sales Increase 300%

First, the Holocaust; now, this. It's just one mistake after another with these guys.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

To Quote Strong Bad, "Good. Gravy."

I clicked here, and now, I feel unclean.

Frankly, how I was able to see the home page through the fog of desperation emanating from my monitor, I'll never know, but after a few minutes of browsing--particularly, after the My Pictures section--I could muster just one simple thought: "Mommy, make the sad woman go away."

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

"Major Strasser Has Been Shot. Round Up the Usual Suspects."

BARABOO, WI--Sauk County Sheriff Virgil "Butch" Steinhorst announced Tuesday that he believes a recent rash of a Baraboo-area crimes was perpetrated by the al-Qaeda terrorist network or teenagers.

"In this day and age, it's important for law-enforcement officials to consider global threats as well as local ones," Steinhorst said. "We could be dealing with an al-Qaeda sleeper cell attempting to collect information that they could use to plan a terrorist strike or some of those goth kids who knocked over that mailbox. Neither group has any respect for the law." --The Onion | Local Sheriff Suspects Al-Qaeda Or Teens

It's funny because it's true.

Monday, August 16, 2004

"All Pigs Are Created Equal, but Some Pigs Are More Equal than Others"

"My country tis of thee,
"Sweet Land of ...

"Excuse me? Why, yes, officer, I did vote absentee in the last election. Why? Oh, you're just curious, and would like to ask me a few follow-up questions? Sure. Just let me finish this song.

"...liberty,
"Of Thee I sing.
"Land where our fathers died..."

Friday, August 13, 2004

yes I said yes it is I Yes




You're Ulysses!

by James Joyce

Most people are convinced that you don't make any sense, but compared
to what else you could say, what you're saying now makes tons of sense. What people do
understand about you is your vulgarity, which has convinced people that you are at once
brilliant and repugnant. Meanwhile you are content to wander around aimlessly, taking in
the sights and sounds of the city. What you see is vast, almost limitless, and brings you
additional fame. When no one is looking, you dream of being a Greek folk hero.



Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.



Really, it's like they've known me all my life.

I've Come Out from Beneath the Safety of My Covers to Bring You This

You've got to love Howstuffworks, I mean, if you're even moderately curious about the world around you.

Today's entry focuses on Friday the 13th, its origins and myths--pretty cool stuff.

In a nutshell, having dinner with exactly 12 people is a bad idea for the media shy. Apparently, historians love to record the unfortunate things that happen at those things when a 13th person shows up. Consider yourself warned.

While we're on the subject, whenever possible, don't be the 13th person to show up for anything. Unless you truly are the devil or need the exposure.

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's back to bed.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

How Is Your State Reacting to the Demands of a Post-9-11 World? With Fear and Racism, the Same Way It Reacts to Everything

This is not the face of American terrorism. It's the face of a teenager who's made a stupid mistake.

I know. I was a teenager once, the kind who made stupid mistakes regularly. I made that face a lot.

Now, what he did was really stupid. It was criminal, too, but it wasn't a terrorist act.

He made a pipe bomb. Actually, if you believe the chemistry professor quoted in this article, he made a pipe firecracker, a steroidal M-80, more of a danger to himself and his dreams of a future with all ten digits than American society and its values.

He made a stupid mistake, not a weapon of mass destruction.

It says a lot about us that after 9-11, we were so frightened we passed a law that classified almost everything that could go "pop" as a WMD, with criminal penalties to match. It says just as much about us that we are so frightened now that we are willing to charge a kid no one believes has any connection to terrorism with a statute designed to combat it, just to send a message.

It says we suck.

Because instead of passing and executing laws that address terrorist activity and punish its perpetrators, we're passing laws that terrorize the public and punish our children.

For doing childish things, for making childish mistakes.

And it's not just the absurdities of our post-9-11 lives that bother me. It's also the way we address legitimate concerns, like this, a Pakistani man filming high-rise buildings that house financial institutions, the kind of thing, we are told, we are suppose to be suspicious of. That a policeman questioned and--after receiving misleading answers and evasive behavior--arrested him seems right; yet, I find it more disturbing than comforting.

Part of it comes from a concern and sensitivity to what has happened to civil rights over the last few years, so I'm open to the charge that I'm overreacting, that all of what happened was legit. I admit that.

Part of it is the racial aspect, the knowledge that a white guy filming office buildings--despite the fact that Timothy McVeigh and his ilk, in an act of domestic terrorism, destroyed a federal building and the hundreds of lives within it--would have been ignored, believed to have been a tourist or an architectural student or whatever and beyond suspicion.

But most of it comes from a concern that we have grown of afraid of living in an open and free society.

What he was doing sounds suspicious to me, too. It does, but that doesn't stop me from believing that what he was doing was perfectly legal and that he should have been left alone.

It isn't illegal to photograph skyscrapers, and it isn't unthinkable that a person of Middle Eastern descent would offer misleading statements to the police, try to evade questioning, when you consider the way our government has been treating its terrorism suspects. (Case in point: He was arrested a month ago, and he remains in government custody, despite the fact that the government has not established a single connection between him and any known terrorist organization or plan.) Outside of a few immigration paper errors, he has done nothing wrong.

We, on the other hand, have. Living in our society, freely and openly, is inherently dangerous. We are free to peddle dangerous ideas in the market place; we are free to engage in activities that others might find strange and suspicious. We are free to say and do anything that isn't expressly forbidden by our laws. We have a founding document that protects our rights to do so. Yet, here, we are, pretending none of that is true. Here, we are frightening children, and terrorizing immigrants.

We should be better than that; we should be braver than that.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Even with Their Unsuitable Meanings, They're Better Than "Lemonjello" and "Orangejello"

"Chlamydia! Chrysalis! Girls! Come on! Collect your things. It's time to go!

"What? Oh, yes, yes, their mother and I knew what their names meant when we christened them. Of course, we did. But they sounded so lovely when we said them &mdash 'Chlamydia,' 'Chrysalis'&mdash felt so right dancing off our tongues each time we spake them, we couldn't help ourselves.

"Now, ...

"Anusitis! Anusitis! Where has that damn dog got to?"

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Shhhh! Strong Bad Is Talking

Good gravy. I've got two words for the children that are raised on that crap: HELD BACK.


That should be the disclaimer on every cartoon for children made since 1975.

"I Don't Know How They Blog Roll Where You Live, but, Here, on the Mean Streets of Mayberry, This How We Do It. Oh, Yeah. We're Big Pimpin'

15. When we were a lot younger, I taught my brother (who is 10 years younger than me) to bow and kiss my hand when he saw me.
from Mai's "100 Things to Know about Me"

If loving that is wrong, I don't want to be right.

And there's so much to love at Mai's Coffee and Cigs, smart and funny stuff--a "100 Things to Know about Me" that makes you want to read all 100 items (usually, I'm clicking the "Back" button at 10) being the least of it--that you really ought to check her out.

She's the literate sibling I never had.


Saturday, August 07, 2004

I Am Shocked--SHOCKED!!--to Find a 70-Year-Old, Millionaire Viagra Addict Paying Young Women to Have Sex with Him. Shocked. I Am

The New York Post reports that professional poker player Jill Ann Spaulding claims in a self-published book that the Playboy caliph keeps a dozen "slave bunnies" who are ordered to have sex with him (for $2,000 a week).


$2,000 a week? Man, slavery sure has changed over the years.

And am I crazy or is the fight for reparations starting to sound like a good idea?

Friday, August 06, 2004

Timeline of Terror Alerts

People thought I was crazy for suggesting that the Bushies were using terror alerts to control the news cycle, to bump bad news off the front page or to change the debate whenever the Dems. got them by their short-and-curlies in public discourse. Hell, they called me maaaad at the Academy for suggesting such a thing. Sure, I was wearing an aluminum foil, mind control-thwarting hat at the time, but that fashion faux pas shouldn't have carried the day. My point was valid. And, now, I've got proof.

They are just going to die when they see this.

Thanks, Julius blog.

Thursday, August 05, 2004

I Know This Is Difficult, but Try: Show Us on This Christopher Robin Doll Where Mr. Chartrand Touched You

According to his attorney, Michael Chartrand, "Tigger," was merely checking the girl to see if her top was made out of rubber, her bottom was made out of springs. In fact, if you believe Mr. Chartrand's mouthpiece, any touching by the bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy 36-year-old was conducted in the name of Disney-sanctioned "fun, fu-fun, fun, FUN!"

His jury agreed.

I'm a CIA Analyst, but What I Really Want to Do Is Direct

Expect the CIA to hired Bruce Willis to protect the nation against terrorist comets.

This is what happens when people of little imagination fall prey to those with a little more.

NYTimes: Offering Legal Advice and Lattes

Eight years ago, Mr. Hughes opened a cafe called Legal Grind in Santa Monica, Calif. Every weekday and Saturday afternoon, lawyers arrive at the cafe - which offers legal advice in addition to coffee - to make themselves available to customers for about 15 minutes for a $25 fee.


I'm thinking about copying this model for myself, selling lattes and philosophical services--tailor-made epistemologies, personal systems of ethics, individual identities for resistance and emancipation, that sort of thing.

I know what you're thinking: No one's going to pay $25 per quarter hour for that. And you're right. That's why I'm only going to charge 15 cents per hour for that stuff.

But let someone order a latte, and .... Woo, boy! Black gold. Seattle tea.

Theirs Is the Superior Society

Women of all ages have reportedly been rushing to buy their very own Boyfriend Arm Pillow--a snugly alternative to the real thing.


...He comes with his own shirts for those who miss fussing over their man and one model has a vibrating alarm function to gently shake their sleeping beauty awake.

Oh, that's what it's for. Whew, for a minute, there, I thought they were going to have to outlaw the Boyfriend Arm Pillow in Alabama.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

In Government Parlance, It Means "Thank You"

My friend, an attorney, is irked by the phrase "based on my training and experience." "BOMTAE," his pet name for it, belongs to a family of legal words and phrases that allow police officers to say in court or do in the field something that is otherwise barred by rules of criminal procedure, statutes, or our constitutions, state or federal. Invoked, they magically whisk away the need for simple common sense. I feel his pain.

I get a little apoplectic (can you get a little apoplectic?) at the sight of "Non-acceptance would cause embarrassment to donor and U.S. Government." It's the pat answer given by a government official to justify receipt of a gift from a former power. In some cases, it's probably true, but in every case,...? I don't believe it, and the repetition has robbed the sentence of its meaning. That's what's causing my brain aneurysm to inflate to dangerous proportions, that instead of justification for accepting a diplomatic gift, we're not getting the equivalent of "Supercalifragiliciousexpialadocious."

I mean, would the Royal Highness Abdallah bin Abd al-Aziz Al Saud really be embarrassed if the Bush twins couldn't accept his "Bulgari white gold necklace, ring, and earring set of pearls and diamonds," valued at $8,500? Would it hurt U.S.-Saudi relations? I don't think so.

It's particularly unlikely given the countries and the leaders involved, a Who's Who of the politically shameless. These are not the kind of people who can be cut to the quick by a "No, thank you. I'm good." (I'm looking at you Ra Jong-Yil.)

The fact that their gifts might be influencing policy isn't the issue. I'm not that naive. It's that the stock phrase relieves our government of the responsibility of making real arguments to us.

I want to know how, for instance, our relationships with Italy would go to hell if Chief of Staff Andrew Card couldn't accept a $3,000 Bulgari watch from the president of the Council of Ministers. Some overpaid flack ought to have to convince me that's true.

And while he's at it, he can convince me that our president, George Bush, really gives a damn about the embarrassment turning down a gift from Jacque Chirac would cause France.

Writing the same phrase beside every entry just doesn't cut it.

Dante's Inferno Test - Impurity, Sin, and Damnation

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Fifth Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
LevelScore
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)Low
Level 2 (Lustful)High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Low
Level 7 (Violent)High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)Very High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Well, yeah, that sounds about right.

Monday, August 02, 2004

Is "Better Than Biloxi" Taken?

Given their insistence on flying the confederate flag, I nominate "Intimidating minorities: It's not just for Klansmen anymore."


The Smoking Gun: Ground Zero Typo Caught after 2 Years

Sunday, August 01, 2004

Winne-F#%Cking-Bago Man

Camera Guy: We're still spinning.

On-air Talent: Well, turn the fucking thing off, then, ya' dumb ass.


I should be doing that job, and I would be, too, except, ... Well, it's all politics.

Just Ask Alice. I Think She Knows

She sipped her latte gracefully, unaware of the milk foam droplets building on her mustache, which was not the peachy-fine baby fuzz that Nordic girls might have, but a really dense, dark, hirsute lip-lining row of fur common to southern Mediterranean ladies nearing menopause, and winked at the obviously charmed Spaniard at the next table.

--Jeanne Ville, Novato, CA, Grand Panjandrum's Special Award Winner


That's right: The 2004 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest results are in, and, as you can probably tell from the above, bad writing has never been so good.

My favorite, a Dishonorable Mention, comes from the Children's Literature category:

As he entered the room within which so many a wild night of their sweltering love affair had been spent, the White Rabbit regarded her with benevolent eyes, her posture such that he suspected something was wrong, but before he could speak Alice unburied her face from her trembling hands and between her intense sobs he made out the words, "I'm late...I'm late."


The winner in that category is pretty good, too.