“You Gonna Do Some Prayin' for Me, Boy. And You Better Pray Real Good.”

I was in the office running my mouth, accentuating my point by quoting Diliverance, as I am wont to do, when my co-worker tilted her head the way Nipper does when he hears his master's voice coming out of the RCA Victrola. Smarter than the average bear, I took that to mean she wasn't getting the reference. (Like I said, “smarter than the average bear.”)

I tried to explain the movie to her—so she wouldn't be excluded from future celebrations of my wit—but I couldn't. I didn't and don't have the words. You don't, either. Even those gifted in the arts of narrative, those blessed as raconteurs, cannot “explain” Diliverance. That's because Diliverance has to be experienced. I accept that. There's no shame in being unable to tell its tale.

So, I told her to wait for a nice, fall, Seattle Saturday afternoon, i.e., overcast with a chill in the air that forces you to make hearty soups—which, as luck would have it, is every Saturday around here from September 1 to June 30—and then, while the soup is simmering, to pop in the DVD. She did.

She hasn't slept since. And she gets a chill whenever I mention her pretty mouth.

My work is done, here.

Come February, Brace Yourselves for the Malcolm X Shotgun Sale

This may be the worst ad idea since the Martin Luther King White Sale—certainly worse than the idea that produced the shoe store ad asking “Would you march to Selma in cheap shoes?” Okay, maybe, it's not that bad.

Depends: For When Your Ass Pops a Cap

There are Crips, the Bloods, and, now, this guy. His gang sign is ASL for “Wipe Me!” and his gang colors always run. If you don't want to know what happens to those who dis' his homies—and you don't—then don't be poppin' your diaper tops around Compton.

As they say in the 'hood, don't start nothing, and there won't be nothing. (Oh, they're saying it.)

For Their Sakes, I Pray He Isn't the “Lone Deviant.” Not Even the People of Nebraska Deserve Lives of Such Quiet Desperation

Police have arrested a man suspected of leaving greasy, graphic imprints on the windows of stores, churches and schools in a small Nebraska town. A 35-year-old man was caught in the act by police early Wednesday morning, Cherry County Attorney Eric Scott said Friday. The man hasn't been charged yet, but authorities believe he is the vandal some townsfolk have dubbed the “Butt Bandit.”

Beginning in spring of 2007, a mystery vandal visited businesses at night, pressing his naked behind — sometimes his groin, sometimes both — on windows. The marks were made with lotion or petroleum jelly, and while police had earlier worried copycat criminals were getting involved, Scott said they now believe it's “the act of a lone deviant.”


Well, we won't know until someone fingers him in the line-up. Rimshot.

Thank you. Unfortunately for you, I'm here all week. Try the veal.

I'm All for Expanding the Uses of Semen—in Theory

Semen is not only nutritious, but it also has a wonderful texture and amazing cooking properties. Like fine wine and cheeses, the taste of semen is complex and dynamic. Semen is inexpensive to produce and is commonly available in many, if not most, homes and restaurants. Despite all of these positive qualities, semen remains neglected as a food. This book hopes to change that. Once you overcome any initial hesitation, you will be surprised to learn how wonderful semen is in the kitchen. Semen is an exciting ingredient that can give every dish you make an interesting twist. If you are a passionate cook and are not afraid to experiment with new ingredients — you will love this cook book!


Wow, semen, really? Oh, I'd love to try some, but I foolishly filled up on bread. Maybe, next time.

Of course, I'm always available for a milking, so let me know if you need some Man Goo Ice Cream to round out the meal.

My Sources Are Irrefutable (and Wrathful)

To: Gays

RE: Your Gayness

Despite what some churches (I'm looking in your direction, Westboro) might tell you, I do not hate you. Your lifestyle, well, it just sort of makes me uncomfortable. I don't understand it, and I probably never will. But you know what? I don't always have to understand everything you do. I just want you to know that at the end of the day I lvoe you very much and I just want you to be happy. I really want you to know that whenever you come for a visit, any friend you might bring along is welcome, too.

Love (I mean it! Honest!),

God


After the recent madness over Proposition 8, it needed to be said.

There's Nothing Cuter than Stoners and Kids

Pot Cookie Monster: Hello there! Today, we're… Um, what we doing again?

Mackenzie: Pot Cookie Monster, we counting to five.

Pot Cookie Monster: Hah! You say, “Pot cookie.”

Mackenzie: Yes.

Pot Cookie Monster: Hahahahaha. What we laughing 'bout?

Mackenzie: Counting to five.

Pot Cookie Monster: Hahahahahahaha.

Mackenzie: One.

Pot Cookie Monster: Whoa. Feel how soft me is. It like petting fuzzy rainbow made of kittens.

Mackenzie: [giggle] Two.

Pot Cookie Monster: Wa–wait! Me am me. Me can feel me own soft without even touching me.

Mackenzie: You silly!

Pot Cookie Monster: Me know. Whoa! Has this been here the whole time?

Mackenzie: Three.

Pot Cookie Monster: Whoa. Wow, that's so awesome.

Mackenzie: Four. (Pronounced Foe-wer. Clearly this child is from the South.)

Pot Cookie Monster: Oh. Oh, yeah. Four. Where are we anyway? How come nobody is… OOOOh!

[Orange monster walks through and greets Mackenzie, who waves sweetly.]

Pot Cookie Monster: Is he huge or is me tiny?

Mackenzie: I love you Pot Cookie Monster.

Pot Cookie Monster: Oh, me love you, too, Mackenzie. But Mackenzie know what Pot Cookie Monster love beside Mackenzie?

Mackenzie: Hacky sack?

Good call, my teeny, tiny cherub. Stoners do love the 'Sack.

Of course, if I were baked right now, I'd be crying . I just always get emotional, and the fact that li'l Mackenzie never made it to five would be too much for my phattie-fueled heart to bear.

Excuse me. I've got something in my eye.

To Quote a Kentuckian, “Bitch, You Ain't Woman Enough to Take My Man.” Okay, Make that Paraphrase (Go Heels!)

Deon Thompson has helped top-ranked North Carolina get off to a good start despite playing without injured star Tyler Hansbrough. Now, just as the reigning national player of the year appears close to returning, the Tar Heels could be losing another key contributor inside.

Fast Facts

In a battle of the winningest programs in college basketball history, UNC improved to 21-10 all-time against Kentucky.

The Wildcats fell to 0-2 for the first time since 2001-02 and have now lost four straight games dating back to last season.

The Tar Heels led by double figures barely 4 minutes into the game and never looked back.

– ESPN research and The Associated Press

Thompson scored a career-high 20 points to help North Carolina beat Kentucky 77-58 on Tuesday night, his second straight confidence-building performance in Hansbrough's absence to start the season. But freshman 7-footer Tyler Zeller suffered a wrist injury late in the game that had coach Roy Williams sounding pessimistic. …

The game drew actress and noted Kentucky fan Ashley Judd, who made good on a pledge to attend the game during a campaign stop in Chapel Hill last month to support President-elect Barack Obama. Judd had promised to sit among the light blue-clad students for the game if the state — which hadn't cast its electoral votes for a Democrat since 1976 — voted for Obama.

She joined the rowdy student section behind the basket near the UNC bench at the start of the second half, drawing plenty of attention from students snapping pictures with cell-phone cameras. She also gave a wave to former North Carolina Sen. John Edwards — the 2004 Democratic vide-presidential nominee and 2008 presidential candidate — and his wife, Elizabeth, in the stands a few sections over, provoking one of the most awkward moments in the history of the Smith Center—John Edwards holding his wife's purse and heels while she beat the flirt out of a husband-wooing, Kentucky harlot.

It was to be the lopsided victory of the night.

Other State Penal Systems May Take an Arm and a Leg from a Prisoner. Ours Hits You Where You Live. Don't Mess with Washington State

A Mason County man who lost his penis and a testicle after he contracted a flesh-eating bacteria while in prison has won a $300,000 settlement from the state Department of Corrections.

Charlie Manning, 61, said Monday that he agreed to the settlement with the Department of Corrections (DOC) last month because he wanted the ordeal to be over. After paying his bills and attorney's fees, Manning said, he will be left with about $115,000 and plans to hunker down in his Lake Cushman motor home and live out the rest of his life.

“It's been a nightmare,” Manning said. “I figured I should settle for what I could get because I just want it behind me.” “It's unreal. It's like something from Mars,“ said Manning, who clearly has a gift for understatement. “I wish it would have never happened to me.” …

In 2004, medical staff at Stafford Creek Correctional Center in Aberdeen diagnosed Manning as having an allergic reaction to cold medicine. He was later diagnosed with necrotizing fasciitis — flesh-eating bacteria — caused by an internal abscess.

By the time Manning was airlifted to Harborview Medical Center in Seattle, the bacteria had spread to his pelvic region. Surgeons at Harborview performed a lifesaving surgery and removed several pounds of flesh, including his penis and a testicle, Manning's attorney said.

Surgeons eventually made a replacement penis with skin from his thigh.


They made a “substitute” penis—not a “replacement penis.” No surgeon can replace a loved one with whom you have had a fifty-year sexual relationship. (Surgeons, they really do think they are gods.)

That said, “pounds of flesh?” They had to measure your penis (and surrounding area—whatever) in pounds. Dude, respect.

Want to Silence a White Crowd? Say, “Crack-a-lackin'.” Afterward, the Only Sounds You'll Hear Are of Said Crowd Wetting Themselves

The best “Martha” ever?

On Tuesday's show Martha Stewart welcomed her friend Snoop Dogg to the kitchen to make a Thanksgiving potato recipe.

Before the rapper came out, Stewart told the story of bonding backstage at Letterman with Snoop, she read aloud emails he's sent her, and she called herself “a homegirl from New Jersey.”

After a break, she showed off Snoop's posse standing to the side and her own all-girl posse to the other side. “I need some guy posse! Do you guys want to stay with me?” She then commented how handy Snoop's posse was, as they can pick out his clothes and braid his hair.

From there the pair made mashed potatoes together, with Snoop complimenting the color of her mixers and adding cognac to his potatoes from a lady-shaped bottle.

Words can't capture the fantastic….


Martha's always had a big backyard, so when she got a criminal record, you knew it would be just a matter of time before the brothers started hitting her up for booty calls. But you'd be lying if you said you thought Snoop would be at the head of the line.

Those Words Ain't Gonna' Teach Themselves

Friends of mine have become parents recently, and should be arriving home with their daughter soon. To mark the occasion, I've been searching for the perfect gift for the joyful bundle.

So, tell me. Can I stop looking?

Nor Do I Want to See the Lather

Who can resist this cute little swimmer with the long tail? He (or is it she?) has a set of bedroom eyes that will work anyone into a lather!

Happy Sperm Soap On A Rope makes a great gift for wedding showers, baby showers and even hot and cold showers.


I really don't want to know what that smells like.

“Ladies…”

You may find it hard to believe, but apparently women were treated with some sort of disrespect by advertisers at one point in history. Here are nine of the most bizarre and anti-woman ads ever.

This is the only foreign ad of the bunch but it’s an ad for tampons that, for some reason, indicates that a good usage is to tie a dead fish to your tampon string. Now, I’m no gynecologist (well, not professionally at least; I dabble in amateur work), but I could imagine that hanging a fish from your cooch won’t help your vaginal situation. In fact, it may make it worse. Much worse. Especially for the fish. I’m pretty sure that’s how Flounder from the Little Mermaid died.


I'm assuming you know this is wrong on so many levels. I'm not posting it to point that out. I'm posting it to find out how many levels of wrong it is.

And remember, I'm recording this for science and posterity.

What We Have Here Is Failure to Communicate

Someone created a really cool site, called “From 52 to 48 with Love,” to allow voters from all over to send messages of reconciliation to each other. Just a photo and note is all it takes to be added to the great, big experiment in group hugging.

Most of the entries are exactly what you would expect to see, but there are some that surprise you with their creativity, their humor, and their warmth. Some were even poignant enough to get through my cynicism and move me.


















Admittedly, not everyone gets it.

Rosebud? Man, the Youngest Child Always Gets Screwed

The Secret Service traditionally has given pithy, private names to those whose lives they protect. The monikers are a throwback to a time when electronic communications were not encrypted, and they no longer serve a security function. Still, they give an occasional peek at the players' personalities, in addition to serving as great trivia questions.

President-elect Barack Obama: Renegade

Michelle Obama: Renaissance

Malia Obama: Radiance

Sasha Obama: Rosebud

Because She's the Queen of Soul and You're Not

See that “Franklin-ette” closest to the camera? That's what my mom looked like when she'd get dressed up back in the 60s (except my mom would wear that shirt as a mini skirt).

I'm unabashed in my love for Aretha Franklin. Her singing voice has always been so powerful, so pure, I have never been able to do anything but adore her for it. Really, few things make me cry, but there are times when I'm listening to her that tears of joy well up in my eyes and I just let them roll down. If I were ever going to scream “Hallelujah!” and sing happily in praise of the lord, it would be then. That it is possible for an occasion like that to exist at all is a testament to how awesome Aretha is.

Listen and sing her praises.

“Nation Finally Shitty Enough To Make Social Progress”

After emerging victorious from one of the most pivotal elections in history, president-elect Barack Obama will assume the role of commander in chief on Jan. 20, shattering a racial barrier the United States is, at long last, shitty enough to overcome.

Although polls going into the final weeks of October showed Sen. Obama in the lead, it remained unclear whether the failing economy, dilapidated housing market, crumbling national infrastructure, health care crisis, energy crisis, and five-year-long disastrous war in Iraq had made the nation crappy enough to rise above 300 years of racial prejudice and make lasting change.

“Today the American people have made their voices heard, and they have said, ‘Things are finally as terrible as we're willing to tolerate,’” said Obama, addressing a crowd of unemployed, uninsured, and debt-ridden supporters. “To elect a black man, in this country, and at this time—these last eight years must have really broken you.”

Added Obama, “It's a great day for our nation.”


As is so often the case with The Onion, it's funny because it's true.

Ah, Yorick, I Knew Him Horatio. What a Bastard

Fox anchor: Guess who's here? The Independent Party candidate Ralph Nader. This is his second run for the presidency since he played spoiler in the close 2000 contest. This year he was on the ballot in 45 states plus D.C. This year, he was polling about 1 percent.

Ralph, you spoke to Fox News Radio's Houston affiliate today, and said this,

“To put it very simply, he is our first African American president; or he will be. And we wish him well. But his choice, basically, is whether he's going to be Uncle Sam for the people of this country, or Uncle Tom for the giant corporations.”

It's been a long time since I respected Ralph Nader. Shortly after his second run for the presidency, my support for him died. My respect did shortly thereafter.

I helped get his name on the ballot in NC in the 90s, but stopped after '96, when it became obvious to me that Nader was only in this for the gratification of his own ego. I came to that conclusion after watching him disappear from politics after each election, only to appear four years later to run again. It seemed to me that if he were serious about creating a viable third party, he'd spend the intervening years building the party from the ground up—running candidates for school board and local elections, state posts and legislature seats—using the efficiency of his grassroots network. But he didn't. He just kept appearing like a vampire in a B movie that simply won't die. So I gave up on him.

Then, in 2000, he jumped on Al Gore for some stocks that Gore held at the time. Gore said these were part of a mutual fund and not something that he actively traded or consciously knew about. Nader implied that he supported evil businesses, but when asked to reveal which companies made up his own mutual fund portfolios, Nader balked. He also balked at returning money from Republican donors who wanted him to continue in the race against Kerry in '04. That he could justify taking it and that he wouldn't participate in the transparency in investment that he demanded of others crushed what remaining respect for him that I had.

So it's hard to say what this latest incident does for me. Using “Uncle Tom” to describe President-Elect Obama is fairly insensitive to say the least. Saying he's going to hold Obama to a higher standard than he would another candidate is politically clueless. So I don't know what I can tell you about him, I mean, other than that he's dead to me.

Go Vote

Because We're Seattle, and That's How We Roll. Peace Out, Bee-yotch!

To encourage your involvement in the democratic process, Babeland is offering a Get Out the Vote Special Giveaway!!
Stop by any brick and mortar store (New York or Seattle) between November 4th and 11th and bring your voter registration card, voting stub or word of honor. If you voted, we’ll give you a Silver Bullet or a Maverick Sleeve (get it?) for free! Yes, free. It’s because we value voting that much. Sex toys for voting, only the satisfaction of having helped ensure your country’s future can be better than that.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, Babeland thinks voting is important. It’s one of many ways that we can have a voice and it should be everyone’s basic level of engagement with the political process. If you want to donate time, money, space, or effort, even better! No matter where you live, please vote. If you have time, call in sick on Tuesday, vote, and then go to your nearest (insert preferred candidate’s name here) campaign office at 10:00am and say “what can I do?” Nothing is more rewarding than helping people get to the polls who wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for you. …


That's right. While you're standing in line for coffee, the people in the upper, left-hand corner of your USA maps are going to be home—if you're lucky—rubbing one out. Jealous?

Go Vote. There's Free Coffee and Doughnuts and and Ice Cream and Sex Toys in It if You Do

Early in the campaign, the black commentator Tavis Smiley took a lot of heat when he questioned all the rhetoric, much of it from white liberals, about Obama being “post-racial.” Smiley pointed out that there is “no such thing in America as race transcendence.” He is right of course. …

Obama doesn’t transcend race. He isn’t post-race. He is the latest chapter in the ever-unfurling American racial saga. It is an astonishing chapter. For most Americans, it seems as if Obama first came to dinner only yesterday. Should he win the White House on Tuesday, many will cheer and more than a few will cry as history moves inexorably forward.

But we are a people as practical as we are dreamy. We’ll soon remember that the country is in a deep ditch, and that we turned to the black guy not only because we hoped he would lift us up but because he looked like the strongest leader to dig us out.


It always bothers me to hear white people say a successful person has transcended race. There is no doubt in my mind that when they say it, they mean it as a compliment, as it is offered usually as an explanation for why they admire or like a person as much as they do. And I'd take it as praiseworthy, as a testament to the person's greatness, as a compliment if on occasion—or just once— they would say it in reference to a white person. They never do, which is why it bothers me. Because they do not, because they never say this about other white people, I can't see this as anything but a slur— because what it implies is that they cannot admire a black person or respect his success and still think of him as black.

So for god's sake, please stop saying this, and if you can't, please stop saying it to your black “friend,” unless you're prepared to explain to him (or her) why he hasn't transcended race or what you mean when you describe him as “black.” (Good luck with that.) Frankly, you'd be better off just spitting in his face.