All right. We've had almost a week to get a grip on the last election and its impact on those of us who did not wish to see Dubya sleeping in the White House for another four years.
I have spoken to all of the people in my life whose opinions matter to me. I dearly love them all...but there are some things that bug me.
I have gotten three e-mails containing a list that Michael Moore wrote that gives folks reasons to be happy about the election. Y'all, if you need him to tell you what to do, it's no fucking wonder that we live in a country where we can't even have private telephone calls anymore. If you behave like a fucking child, expect to be treated as one. While I have enjoyed all of Moore's films, (especially Roger & Me), he's a blowhard, in the tradition of a Rush Limbaugh or a Bill O'Reilly. He just bats for "our" team. Information is spilling from every corner of our reality now. Blind faith is a choice.
Most of my friends drive SUVs or vans or trucks. I know one other person besides me who drives a plain ol' car. This reminds me of people who say, "I'm not racist, I have lots of Black friends!" If you truly do not want to have people die for your resources, stop consuming so fucking much of them you fucking hypocrites. Sometimes I wonder how many liberal people who whine and complain about us being at war actually step back and look at how their lifestyles perpetuate the need for war. Your 1, 2, or 3 person household does NOT need a big ass fucking vehicle. You need a car that big if you live on a goddamned ranch in the middle of fucking Nevada. This country is as out of hand with the fucking big ass cars as it is with religion and is just as ignorant about the negative impact that they have. If you try to rationalize it by saying that you just have too much stuff to haul around, try having less stuff dumbass.
One of the "get happy" things on the list was that George Bush can't win another term. Get with it, people. This was not a win for George Bush. This was a win for the Right. There is a frightening number of people who believe that George Bush was sent by God. Yes, they believe that he has Divine Right, similar to a King. Wait, no that's exactly like a King. There is a really great speech by a man named John Winthrop. I have a love/hate relationship with this guy. I love that he is a survivor and didn't let anyone stand in his way. I hate it that he was pretty much a cult leader and his cult was the Puritans, who were fucking scary. But they were committed and they survived one hellish fucking day after the another largely because of that commitment. Anyway, his speech, "A Modell of Christian Charity" (sic) is one of the greatest ever written. It is also creepy as fuck. The irony is that it motivated the shit out of the Puritans, made them truly believe that they too were on a mission from God and made them the most successful colony of the New World. From the beginning, our country has used religion and xenophobia to expand and conquer. Thus far, these two tools have proved successful. You want things to change? Be smart, come to grips with what you're dealing with, and start moving some dirt beneath your feet. Taking some social action six weeks before an election simply won't do. You've got quite a job ahead of you so do me a favor and read about what the Puritans had to deal with and prepare your ass for some sleepless nights.
The Right won this time because they scared people. People are afraid of terrorists, first off, but then tickle their noses with the possibility of moral degradation (which of course, is the primary rationale for being the xenophobic pricks that we are) and you've got them sneezing votes into your big, white hanky. It's that simple. It's not like the Right won't have a similar candidate touting the same bullshit that Dubya did with just as much good ol' boy appeal that he has. My instinct tells me that Cheney will not run next time, but that they will find a candidate who is just as rigid as Cheney and just as easily likeable as Dubya.
I know what makes me happy about this election without having to rely on Moore's grandstanding ass to tell me. It's that I saw people who haven't voted for years high tail it to the voting booth. I actually had to wait to vote! Outside the library, there were people holding signs, people being active, people actually taking the time out of their lives to make something good happen. Whether they were touting Kerry or Bush, I was deeply moved that they stood in the pouring rain and chilly wind just to make sure that others knew their choices and what they would mean in the long run. There were people informing others of their rights and giving out pamphlets full of information about whom to contact if their rights were violated. People had a mission! It was so cool. I wish so much that more people had this level of commitment in their lives every day.
Also, I consider that while me and most of my friends (I have conservative friends too...very opinionated and lately, I like them more than a lot of my liberal friends because at least they're honest with themselves about being greedy consumers and resource rapists) are pretty marginalized right now, the other side of the political equation would be as marginalized if Kerry had won. There would still be a huge imbalance in national satisfaction and that just isn't fair. I want, more than anything else, for things to be fair for everyone. The statement that pisses me off more than anything else is when people wave their hands and say that life isn't fair. It is a stupid cop-out used by people who do not have the character to compromise. I refuse to give up that easily. C'est la vie never did dick for me or anyone else. Let your anger and discontent motivate you. The only reason why life is not fair is because we have decided that making things fair is out of our hands when it fucking isn't. Your decisions on how to treat people are yours alone. Treat others with dignity and respect and I'll bet that life becomes a lot more fair than if you use or abuse them.
We have four years to change that. We have four years in which to educate people who fear homosexuals, who think that they are less deserving of happiness and civil rights, and who think that somehow, being gay is immoral or is a deviation in behavior and not just a difference in brain structure(which of course, it is). Four years is a damned long time. A lot can happen if people are willing to chill out a little, try to understand and empathize with these fearful folks. Since we are the minority, the ball is in our court to fight. Kick some ass and make logic work in your favor guys. And please, in the name of all that is holy (or unholy, if that's the cut of your gib) try to be honest with yourselves.
***I got an e-mail last night from someone who was angry that I criticized Mooreites without posting alternatives to his list.
Dude. Did you even read what I wrote past that sentence? My point was that you do not need either me or him or anyone to tell you what to do. Go and take some action on your own and if you do not know how, figure it out! Give yourself some credit, your DNA survived this long on this planet and that means that somewhere within you lies an amazing ability to adapt and change your environment. I can Google the word "vote" and get an assortment of websites that cover important topics that range from how to join a political organization to how I can find tentacle porn. If I can, you can. So shush and get to work.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Holy Water Enema
So George W. Bush won the election because of his high morals and let's face it, White Christian values. Eleven states voted against gay marriage. The Repubs have both the Senate and the House...
...and a dog will be the next mayor in a small town in Kentucky.
Just putting things into perspective.
...and a dog will be the next mayor in a small town in Kentucky.
Just putting things into perspective.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
BBC Once, BBC Twice!
misses,
Will ya
Make me tea?
Make love to me?
Put on the telley?
To the BBC!
(Ming Tea)
Last night's debate was only ok because it is getting boring watching Kerry bury Dubya time and time again. Well, boring except for the part when Bush (who usually only looks stupid because he can barely speak) denied having said that he didn't think about OBL when of course, he did say that. On camera. Sadly, I felt kind of sorry for him right then, like when you're watching The Price is Right and some guy spins the Big Wheel and they're like, one little tile off from $1,000.00. You're like, "Aww, dude, you were so close!" In this case, he was so close to getting through a debate without looking like a total ass hat. I totally heard the sweat off Cheney's big, baldish head splash onto his desk when the palm hit his forehead. I named it "The Resounding Face-Palm of Doom".
American debates have become boring because everyone is trying to please everyone else. You have to go to the most polite place on earth for a good debate. If you want to have some real fun, you've got to listen to the BBC. Tony Blair got bus' upside the head with a condom full of purple flour in the House of Commons! You sure won't see that happen in the U.S. of A. Folks barely got close enough to W's limo to lob eggs at it during his inauguration, let alone flour him with an exploding Trojan! At the House of Commons, you can hear old, angry white guys grumbling when the debate is going on (so much more fun than us, who are trying to be polite or those sycophants who run around playing kissy assy with politicians. I think they call them "lobbyists", heh) and it's really fun listening to the Brits get feisty because they're really kind of known for being super-nice.
In Cincinnati, we're lucky enough to have the BBC overnight and (joy!) the station I most often listen to is also available over the internet (as is the BBC.) Watch out though, if you listen to this station in the afternoon, the dj has a love affair with Afro Celt Sound System and while at first, they are an intriguing sound, you eventually figure out that Africans + Irishmen = pygmies and pygmies are evil. Don't encourage them. Best just to listen at night, in the morning, and late afternoon (when my girlfriend Teri takes over).
You just haven't lived until you hear how unaffected and oddly chipper English people are when they're talking about blowing stuff up. Or chucking condoms at their Prime Minister!
BBC Peace!
Will ya
Make me tea?
Make love to me?
Put on the telley?
To the BBC!
(Ming Tea)
Last night's debate was only ok because it is getting boring watching Kerry bury Dubya time and time again. Well, boring except for the part when Bush (who usually only looks stupid because he can barely speak) denied having said that he didn't think about OBL when of course, he did say that. On camera. Sadly, I felt kind of sorry for him right then, like when you're watching The Price is Right and some guy spins the Big Wheel and they're like, one little tile off from $1,000.00. You're like, "Aww, dude, you were so close!" In this case, he was so close to getting through a debate without looking like a total ass hat. I totally heard the sweat off Cheney's big, baldish head splash onto his desk when the palm hit his forehead. I named it "The Resounding Face-Palm of Doom".
American debates have become boring because everyone is trying to please everyone else. You have to go to the most polite place on earth for a good debate. If you want to have some real fun, you've got to listen to the BBC. Tony Blair got bus' upside the head with a condom full of purple flour in the House of Commons! You sure won't see that happen in the U.S. of A. Folks barely got close enough to W's limo to lob eggs at it during his inauguration, let alone flour him with an exploding Trojan! At the House of Commons, you can hear old, angry white guys grumbling when the debate is going on (so much more fun than us, who are trying to be polite or those sycophants who run around playing kissy assy with politicians. I think they call them "lobbyists", heh) and it's really fun listening to the Brits get feisty because they're really kind of known for being super-nice.
In Cincinnati, we're lucky enough to have the BBC overnight and (joy!) the station I most often listen to is also available over the internet (as is the BBC.) Watch out though, if you listen to this station in the afternoon, the dj has a love affair with Afro Celt Sound System and while at first, they are an intriguing sound, you eventually figure out that Africans + Irishmen = pygmies and pygmies are evil. Don't encourage them. Best just to listen at night, in the morning, and late afternoon (when my girlfriend Teri takes over).
You just haven't lived until you hear how unaffected and oddly chipper English people are when they're talking about blowing stuff up. Or chucking condoms at their Prime Minister!
BBC Peace!
Saturday, October 09, 2004
O, John Kerry You're So Lovely...
Our times have seen the Looney Toon of all elections.
First, we have our two main characters, Sen. John Kerry and President George Bush who chase one another around like Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny. I'll leave it up to you to decide which shoes go where but my money is on Kerry (Bugs) and Bush (Elmer Fudd). To fill out the cast, we have Cheney (Marvin the Martian), Edwards [Huckleberry Hound (technically not a Looney Toon but deemed acceptable by the judges)], The Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote can be the conservative and liberal press alternately dropping anvils on the heads of anyone who makes the mistake of breathing. I am stuck on Foghorn Leghorn. Too bad Strom Thurmond isn't around to make fun of anymore because wouldn't that be too perfect?!
The pre-election frenzy is full of extremity like a Superbowl commercial. Sales pitches that promise to deliver the most unlikely of products, sexy chicks, stupid white men (I count Clarence Thomas among them), and fortunately, if you turn the channel, people who are making a lot of sense, but maybe that's because everyone else seems to have lost their fucking minds.
I've compiled a list of stuff that I'll remember for years to come and people that I loathe, people I admire, and sometimes, both.
The Stories and People I have Loved Thus Far:
The Swift Boat Veterans for Truth to Kerry: "Sure You Saved a Guy's Life in 'Nam But Only Took Like, a Minute!" (with a side note about Robert "I'm a wiener" Novak)
Kerry's hard livin' in Nam has been taken to task by the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth and that silly book ''Unfit for Command: Swift Boat Veterans Speak Out Against John Kerry''. The lube has dried on the ass of ex-POW and now Senator John McCain, and so it was time to get feisty over yet another Vietnam veteran and (oddly...sarcasm: drip drip) another Bush rival, Sen. John Kerry. What do these guys do when they're not attacking their fellow veterans? Hang out with Lt. Dan?
I think the ink for this book was probably squeezed from the severed heads of a truck load of dead puppies, some bear cubs, and maybe a baby seal. It's just that level of incredulous, pompous, what the fuck are you doing, assholism. First, it was hugely promoted by Robert Novak(who thinks it is a-ok to reveal the names of his sources, even if they are active CIA agents. In other words, he is a fucktard). Secondly Novak's son published this book but Novak said that this particular connection to the book was not relevant! Soooo, ok, lemme get this straight: It is totally relevant to disclose the name of a CIA agent (ruining her career and perhaps jeopardizing her life and the lives of her family) but not relevant to disclose what seems to be a big, fat conflict of interest. In other words, if you were still taking Novak seriously, wake up and put him in the spot in your brain reserved for all of the pig fuckers who have made money from terrorist attacks and the witch hunts (like those guy selling pieces of the world trade center, people who sell t-shirts at ground zero, and Halliburton). In short, a book promoted by a crap peddler like Robert Novak has problems starting right there but this book has "Read Me and Go Straight to Heck" (even without Novak) written all over it. Between the lines that say that Kerry is a creep, of course.
Ann Coulter: You Mouthy Bitch, Come Sit on Mama's Lap
Don't be fooled though. If anyone thinks that Kerry is some big hero and is any less the greedy magnate from a greedy magnate family than George Bush is, do your research. Kerry's maternal grandfather is James Grant Forbes, y'all. I'll link it for you but please read about the Opium wars. I fear that very little money in America at this point is bloodless. Kerry merely represents a different cog in the gigantic machine that is devouring the world. While I would love to be romantic and idealistic about Kerry (or anyone at this point), I cannot. I can though, concede that it would be nice to have the world not hating us again. Except the French who will always act snobby but truly, they make xenophobia look really cute and sophisticated.
More importantly, America is not about freedom anymore. We are about hoarding resources, oppressing other people, and happily living in willful ignorance. I know people who call themselves liberals, Buddhists, hippies, and various other counter-culture folk who talk a good game but can't pull a moment of selflessness out of their asses if they saw a kitten on fire. No matter who you are in America, you are a consumer and most likely, consuming more per day that people in third world countries consume in a week or even a month. Our leaders reflect that value and will do what they can to both defend and perpetuate it.
Our presidents, while playing for different teams, are playing the same game in the same league. Don't cozen yourself into being idealistic and later disappointed. I encourage people to vote but more than that, to vote without ignorance.
I am not as angry as I used to be, mostly because I neither have time to be angry and because I kind of try to look at life from a perspective that is less now.
What truly extracted me from feeling angry toward the world as a whole (oddly enough) was a politician named Robert McNamara, the 8th Secretary of Defense for the Kennedy/Johnson Administration. Listening to his memoirs, I realized that what is happening now has happened many times over. Especially during and after World War II. People walked around with surgical masks on their faces because they feared a flu epidemic (this really happened, sound familiar?), we (our country) bombed the crap out of Japanese civilians and that was before set them up the bomb. Then the Cold War happened and millions spent all of their time in fear of the very bomb that was used to off millions of innocent people in a country that we later rebuilt and eventually became the backbone of the world's economy.
Hmm....bombs, nation building, fear, surgical masks...that smells like..why is smells just like NOW!
Don't let yourselves get too distracted by fear or anger. Make informed decisions, not decisions based on fear or revenge or willful ignorance. And don't for a minute just take my advice. Go seek out this information for yourself.
Yes I Know It, I Can't Hellllp It!
First, we have our two main characters, Sen. John Kerry and President George Bush who chase one another around like Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny. I'll leave it up to you to decide which shoes go where but my money is on Kerry (Bugs) and Bush (Elmer Fudd). To fill out the cast, we have Cheney (Marvin the Martian), Edwards [Huckleberry Hound (technically not a Looney Toon but deemed acceptable by the judges)], The Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote can be the conservative and liberal press alternately dropping anvils on the heads of anyone who makes the mistake of breathing. I am stuck on Foghorn Leghorn. Too bad Strom Thurmond isn't around to make fun of anymore because wouldn't that be too perfect?!
The pre-election frenzy is full of extremity like a Superbowl commercial. Sales pitches that promise to deliver the most unlikely of products, sexy chicks, stupid white men (I count Clarence Thomas among them), and fortunately, if you turn the channel, people who are making a lot of sense, but maybe that's because everyone else seems to have lost their fucking minds.
I've compiled a list of stuff that I'll remember for years to come and people that I loathe, people I admire, and sometimes, both.
The Stories and People I have Loved Thus Far:
The Swift Boat Veterans for Truth to Kerry: "Sure You Saved a Guy's Life in 'Nam But Only Took Like, a Minute!" (with a side note about Robert "I'm a wiener" Novak)
Kerry's hard livin' in Nam has been taken to task by the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth and that silly book ''Unfit for Command: Swift Boat Veterans Speak Out Against John Kerry''. The lube has dried on the ass of ex-POW and now Senator John McCain, and so it was time to get feisty over yet another Vietnam veteran and (oddly...sarcasm: drip drip) another Bush rival, Sen. John Kerry. What do these guys do when they're not attacking their fellow veterans? Hang out with Lt. Dan?
I think the ink for this book was probably squeezed from the severed heads of a truck load of dead puppies, some bear cubs, and maybe a baby seal. It's just that level of incredulous, pompous, what the fuck are you doing, assholism. First, it was hugely promoted by Robert Novak(who thinks it is a-ok to reveal the names of his sources, even if they are active CIA agents. In other words, he is a fucktard). Secondly Novak's son published this book but Novak said that this particular connection to the book was not relevant! Soooo, ok, lemme get this straight: It is totally relevant to disclose the name of a CIA agent (ruining her career and perhaps jeopardizing her life and the lives of her family) but not relevant to disclose what seems to be a big, fat conflict of interest. In other words, if you were still taking Novak seriously, wake up and put him in the spot in your brain reserved for all of the pig fuckers who have made money from terrorist attacks and the witch hunts (like those guy selling pieces of the world trade center, people who sell t-shirts at ground zero, and Halliburton). In short, a book promoted by a crap peddler like Robert Novak has problems starting right there but this book has "Read Me and Go Straight to Heck" (even without Novak) written all over it. Between the lines that say that Kerry is a creep, of course.
Ann Coulter: You Mouthy Bitch, Come Sit on Mama's Lap
I don't understand why I like Ann Coulter so much. She's awful. She's just terrible. Wait, yes I do understand why I like her. She's so certain that she's right and she's just so opinionated and mouthy, and she talks smack like, from the moment she wakes up to the time she goes to bed! The woman is unstoppable. She also has sexy pictures on her own website right next to the scathing articles she writes because she's a woman, baby. She's like Bill O'Reilly but I think that Bill really wants people to like him and I betcha by golly wow that Ann doesn't care what you think. That's my kinda gal. Also, she helped advertise for the World Wildlife Fund, one of the many places I've worked but one of the few where I didn't get fired.
Seymour Hersh: The Guy I Wish Was my Grandpa
Seymour is awesome and reminds me a lot of my former professor and good friend Ron Hoffman. He is elegantly passionate about all the right things (yeah, ok, all the things I really like) and he really seems to have integrity, which is so lacking in the world today. The thing that I like about him so much is that he shares the same incredulity that I have when I hear about human rights violations. After everything both of us have seen, we're still horrified that people are so cruel. This leads me to believe (though I admit, I could be mistaken) that he feels just as sad as I do when I see people doing terrible things to one another or to themselves. He also offers a perspective of the Iraq war that doesn't seem quite as hideously evil as some of the conspiracy stories that I've heard (that we're only over there to score some fat cash for our already morbidly obese corporations). Don't know that I buy it but it's compelling and the man is brilliant and not pandering or patronizing. I bet he drinks tea and has a "comfy chair" somewhere in his house. Teri Gross, one of the ladies of whom I speak with great fondness,interviewed him on my most beloved of NPR programs, "Fresh Air". Listen to him, he's spiffy.
Jon Stewart: Why Must You Rock so Hard Jon? Why?
It is difficult to say anything good about Jon Stewart that has not already been said a blue-million times over. What sold me on Stewart was an editorial (click on the link and scroll down) he did on the Supreme Court decision to stop executing mentally disabled Americans. Or Retarded People, as he calls them. I am not a fan of the death penalty for anyone. It's just dumb to kill off the people who are (as I've said before) by-products of our system. In all of my years of trying speak to people about my own feelings on the death penalty, it rarely ends with any type of lucid connection with another person, particularly if they're offering an opposing point of view. I think that's why I'm impressed with this one. No anger or hostility, just a wonderful way of making it look as ridiculous as I see it. Here is an excerpt:
Well, it's finally happened. The Supreme Court ruled we can no longer execute the retarded.Nice. Thanks for making me laugh when everyone else is trying to scare the crap out of me.
The death penalty was the only thing that we had to keep the retarded walking the straight and narrow people! Now, the fox has been let into the henhouse! The keys to the Golden City have been tied to a shoelace and placed around the neck of the wolf! With a note, pinned to his sweater, telling the Little Yellow Bus to take him to the sheep buffet in amnestyville!
By this time tomorrow, I fear, they will be upon us. Smiling. Hugging. Murder on their minds. And all we have to defend ourselves against this pillaging hoard is is our vastly superior intellect, an array of powerful weaponry, and superbly trained law enforcement officials. Lock your doors, people.
Finally, Everyone Who Really Thinks John Kerry is a "Great Guy":
I am obviously, obviously biased. I don't like George Bush. But truth told, I don't like Kerry either. He has just done less to piss me off. Also, I think that there will be less dead people if Kerry is da prez.Don't be fooled though. If anyone thinks that Kerry is some big hero and is any less the greedy magnate from a greedy magnate family than George Bush is, do your research. Kerry's maternal grandfather is James Grant Forbes, y'all. I'll link it for you but please read about the Opium wars. I fear that very little money in America at this point is bloodless. Kerry merely represents a different cog in the gigantic machine that is devouring the world. While I would love to be romantic and idealistic about Kerry (or anyone at this point), I cannot. I can though, concede that it would be nice to have the world not hating us again. Except the French who will always act snobby but truly, they make xenophobia look really cute and sophisticated.
More importantly, America is not about freedom anymore. We are about hoarding resources, oppressing other people, and happily living in willful ignorance. I know people who call themselves liberals, Buddhists, hippies, and various other counter-culture folk who talk a good game but can't pull a moment of selflessness out of their asses if they saw a kitten on fire. No matter who you are in America, you are a consumer and most likely, consuming more per day that people in third world countries consume in a week or even a month. Our leaders reflect that value and will do what they can to both defend and perpetuate it.
Our presidents, while playing for different teams, are playing the same game in the same league. Don't cozen yourself into being idealistic and later disappointed. I encourage people to vote but more than that, to vote without ignorance.
I am not as angry as I used to be, mostly because I neither have time to be angry and because I kind of try to look at life from a perspective that is less now.
What truly extracted me from feeling angry toward the world as a whole (oddly enough) was a politician named Robert McNamara, the 8th Secretary of Defense for the Kennedy/Johnson Administration. Listening to his memoirs, I realized that what is happening now has happened many times over. Especially during and after World War II. People walked around with surgical masks on their faces because they feared a flu epidemic (this really happened, sound familiar?), we (our country) bombed the crap out of Japanese civilians and that was before set them up the bomb. Then the Cold War happened and millions spent all of their time in fear of the very bomb that was used to off millions of innocent people in a country that we later rebuilt and eventually became the backbone of the world's economy.
Hmm....bombs, nation building, fear, surgical masks...that smells like..why is smells just like NOW!
Don't let yourselves get too distracted by fear or anger. Make informed decisions, not decisions based on fear or revenge or willful ignorance. And don't for a minute just take my advice. Go seek out this information for yourself.
Yes I Know It, I Can't Hellllp It!
Saturday, July 03, 2004
Ding Dong
Now, if you haven't seen this yet, you're in for a big, glistening treat.
Ok, first, this is the most fun you can have with cheesy pseudo-French accent and a tube of Astro-Glide. And that's saying a lot!
Now that everyone has seen this video (everyone I tell you!) maybe someone can e-mail or comment and explain a couple of things to me:
First, is that a drag queen that's sitting to the left of the couch where the two chicks are like, necking or whatever? I can't tell. The person appears to have that weird bobbing smiley action happening similar to what one sees in a person suffering from a degenerative nerve disorder. I suspect it may be Gunther himself in drag. But then I come to my senses and think that Gunther must be far too manly for such folly.
Secondly, d'you think Gunther's lips are like that naturally? I'm curious. I'm rather fascinated by them and think that he must have found some ancient artifact deep in de night in some Finnish cave or something and an uber Viking lip spirit possessed them. They're so radiant and they seem to be the primary focal point of the person photographing the video. I figure the photographer is drawn in by their mystical powers just as I have been.
Answers!
Ok, first, this is the most fun you can have with cheesy pseudo-French accent and a tube of Astro-Glide. And that's saying a lot!
Now that everyone has seen this video (everyone I tell you!) maybe someone can e-mail or comment and explain a couple of things to me:
First, is that a drag queen that's sitting to the left of the couch where the two chicks are like, necking or whatever? I can't tell. The person appears to have that weird bobbing smiley action happening similar to what one sees in a person suffering from a degenerative nerve disorder. I suspect it may be Gunther himself in drag. But then I come to my senses and think that Gunther must be far too manly for such folly.
Secondly, d'you think Gunther's lips are like that naturally? I'm curious. I'm rather fascinated by them and think that he must have found some ancient artifact deep in de night in some Finnish cave or something and an uber Viking lip spirit possessed them. They're so radiant and they seem to be the primary focal point of the person photographing the video. I figure the photographer is drawn in by their mystical powers just as I have been.
Answers!
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Victims, Again
Deja fucking vu.
I didn't think about Kobe Bryant's rights when I said that people shouldn't call the chick that he (allegedly) raped a "victim" (see archives 07/01/2003 - 07/31/2003). I was thinking more about her human rights. This does bring up an important (and often ignored) point though. He is innocent of rape until proven guilty. He did cheat on his wife for sure though. This much, he admitted. Does that make him a rapist? Nah.
What makes someone a rapist? I made a list. I like lists. I make lists all of the time. So being the selfless gal that I am, I made a list for you to remember when you hear about a rape, are raped, or maybe even sit on a jury of someone accused of rape:
1. Say you are "doing it". You are in the middle of hot, hot sex and suddenly, the woman feels weird or sobers up. Whatever. She says, "Stop. Now," and you don't stop. Congratulations, asshole. You're a fucking rapist.
2. Say a chick has been coming on to you all night long. She's been all over you like White on George Bush. You get her home. Oops. She just sobered up. Or passed out. Either way, you don't have permission. But...she's been coming on to you! She owes you something, right? Wrong, dumbass. She says no or if she's in no condition to say anything at all and you go on ahead and get your sex on, you’re a fucking rapist.
3. Say you just fucked a crack whore. The crack whore said no, but who gives a fuck. She's a crack whore, right? Wrong, fucker. You're worse because you're a fucking rapist.
4. No matter what the circumstances, unless you're playing a sex game or something and everyone is absolutely certain what's up, if a woman says no, it's rape if you still fuck her. Even if she's just gang banged 29 guys right in front of you. Even if she just did the goddamned donkey show. She says no, you do it anyway; you’re a worthless piece of shit rapist.
I mention substance abuse often because if you don't already know this stuff, a woman would have to be drunk or a crack whore to have sex with your dumb ass.
Also, if you're female, say no if you mean no. Don't say, "I don't feel like it." Say NO. There cannot be room for ambiguity until we live in a world where your vagina is as sacred as his penis. And so far, we don't live in that world.
All that said, yes, Kobe Bryant is way innocent until proven guilty. I hope he is innocent because that is one less woman that got raped last year.
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Last Dance
Saturday April 7, 2001
Timothy Thomas knew he'd been spotted by two off-duty police officers working outside The Warehouse nightclub on Vine Street in Cincinnati. Thomas took off. The officers called in backups. Twelve officers joined in, like you do with a crime lord like Thomas, a 19 year old kid with some unpaid traffic tickets. Police said Thomas jumped fences and darted behind buildings, finally turning down an alley off Republic Street. Officer Steven Roach was in pursuit from the other direction. He saw Thomas walk from behind a building and said that Thomas was reaching for something in his waistband. Officer Roach fired, hitting Thomas in the chest. No weapon was found on or near Thomas' body. Timothy Thomas was the 15th Black man to be killed by Cincinnati police since 1995.
That night, I got off work early from my job as a bartender at Warehouse. I had a stray cat in the backseat of my car (the late Lady Goodman), and since this was before I hopped on the proverbial wagon, two hits of X in my pocket and some acid in my purse. A guy backed into me while trying to squeeze his big ass truck into a tiny spot just a few feet away from the club and cops were everywhere. I had no idea what was happening at that point except hey, pretty lights. I was lucid enough to know that Truck Man was obviously drunk and that if they found my drugs, I was fucked with a capital dick. However, a cop trotted over and told me and the other guy to "Get out of here now..." If there was no damage. He's letting the drunk guy go? Something was amiss but I had to look out for myself and (to me, at the time) more importantly, an innocent cat and most importantly, enough drugs on me to kill us both. Fine with me, Copper. Bye-bye and thank you very much for the huckleberry pie.
The next day, it was all over the news. The shooting, the cop (who had spotted Thomas in the first place), to whom I had served pizza and soda every Saturday night for the previous six months, and the club. Right then, as drug addled as I was, I knew that it was all over for Warehouse. Predictably and as a result of so many other human rights violations on the parts of the Cincinnati P.D. (some of whom are friends and many of whom were disgusted by the Thomas murder), Over-The-Rhine erupted after a (reportedly) peaceful protest was set upon by yet more of the police. There were riots, lootings, and what really is a potentially lovely area was pretty much destroyed. At the time, I didn't know what was more tragic: One man was dead but thousands of lives would be altered because the cops were out of control and the powerless residents of the area had nothing but rage to use as a weapon against them. Ironically, Warehouse was dead center of all the rioting, the reason why Thomas had been spotted by police in the first place, and had remained untouched. Untouched but not unaffected.
Last Wednesday night, May 26, 2004
After years of having put up a valiant, inevitable struggle against cultural evolution and social entropy, Warehouse finally scored its last touchdown. Though it had moved from its location on the most notorious street in the city, it proved too late to unsully its weathered combat boots. It was time for the old gal to roll up her carpet and call it a decade (and some change).
I saw a few people that I used to call friends and truly understood the word pity. Pity is another word for mourning except that you're mourning something that is still somewhat alive. For the most part, my friends were supported by their wealthy parents and for the most part, did doodly squat with their lives yet for some reason, still have the idea that doing nothing at all means something if enough people know your name. And they are NOT drunk.
I do not regret going there or working there though. First off, (and this is fucking sad), it was the only club in town that played music that made me want to dance. It was the only club in the city where you could dance along side (and sometimes with) gigantic, ex-football players who had become beautiful drag queens and not have to worry that some arse with a jock-itch to scratch was going to swim out of the darkness and start causing trouble. It turned social rejects and weak minded fools into Kings and Queens of the Underworld and though many of those Underworld Queens and Kings grew into parodies of themselves, they were great fun to be around in their time. Other clubs caught up later but for its time, Warehouse was the poo.
Secondly, it was where I had a nervous breakdown that cured me of my drug habit and eventually became the springboard for me ditching the aforementioned friends with absolutely no regrets. It is ironic that sometimes, clear thinking also clears up any doubt of why you started needing to tune out reality in the first place. Luckily for me, I had only burned the most twisted and broken bridges and had a Fairy Godfather (probably the last person in the world anyone would suspect has a heart made of solid gold puppies) holding my hand most of the way across the new one.
I was really happy when I left on Wednesday because unlike my old friends, I didn't settle for spending my life trying to recapture or hold on to an illusory sense of power that I'd sifted from the dubious attention of bar toads. Life rarely affords us positive, healthy closure. When it happens, it fulfills a human need for a linear chronology. We get the book ends. We get straight lines. We get to put a thumbtack on the map. It's like a freshly vacuumed floor or a shiny new dollar bill.
The only real goodbyes in life are the goodbyes that come with this kind of closure because they're cathartic without emotional upheaval. They're more like hellos to the future.
Thanks Tomm, Mike Dangers, Kevin, Dave, Kim, Dusty, and J-Bear for making my memories more memorable.
Timothy Thomas knew he'd been spotted by two off-duty police officers working outside The Warehouse nightclub on Vine Street in Cincinnati. Thomas took off. The officers called in backups. Twelve officers joined in, like you do with a crime lord like Thomas, a 19 year old kid with some unpaid traffic tickets. Police said Thomas jumped fences and darted behind buildings, finally turning down an alley off Republic Street. Officer Steven Roach was in pursuit from the other direction. He saw Thomas walk from behind a building and said that Thomas was reaching for something in his waistband. Officer Roach fired, hitting Thomas in the chest. No weapon was found on or near Thomas' body. Timothy Thomas was the 15th Black man to be killed by Cincinnati police since 1995.
That night, I got off work early from my job as a bartender at Warehouse. I had a stray cat in the backseat of my car (the late Lady Goodman), and since this was before I hopped on the proverbial wagon, two hits of X in my pocket and some acid in my purse. A guy backed into me while trying to squeeze his big ass truck into a tiny spot just a few feet away from the club and cops were everywhere. I had no idea what was happening at that point except hey, pretty lights. I was lucid enough to know that Truck Man was obviously drunk and that if they found my drugs, I was fucked with a capital dick. However, a cop trotted over and told me and the other guy to "Get out of here now..." If there was no damage. He's letting the drunk guy go? Something was amiss but I had to look out for myself and (to me, at the time) more importantly, an innocent cat and most importantly, enough drugs on me to kill us both. Fine with me, Copper. Bye-bye and thank you very much for the huckleberry pie.
The next day, it was all over the news. The shooting, the cop (who had spotted Thomas in the first place), to whom I had served pizza and soda every Saturday night for the previous six months, and the club. Right then, as drug addled as I was, I knew that it was all over for Warehouse. Predictably and as a result of so many other human rights violations on the parts of the Cincinnati P.D. (some of whom are friends and many of whom were disgusted by the Thomas murder), Over-The-Rhine erupted after a (reportedly) peaceful protest was set upon by yet more of the police. There were riots, lootings, and what really is a potentially lovely area was pretty much destroyed. At the time, I didn't know what was more tragic: One man was dead but thousands of lives would be altered because the cops were out of control and the powerless residents of the area had nothing but rage to use as a weapon against them. Ironically, Warehouse was dead center of all the rioting, the reason why Thomas had been spotted by police in the first place, and had remained untouched. Untouched but not unaffected.
Last Wednesday night, May 26, 2004
After years of having put up a valiant, inevitable struggle against cultural evolution and social entropy, Warehouse finally scored its last touchdown. Though it had moved from its location on the most notorious street in the city, it proved too late to unsully its weathered combat boots. It was time for the old gal to roll up her carpet and call it a decade (and some change).
I saw a few people that I used to call friends and truly understood the word pity. Pity is another word for mourning except that you're mourning something that is still somewhat alive. For the most part, my friends were supported by their wealthy parents and for the most part, did doodly squat with their lives yet for some reason, still have the idea that doing nothing at all means something if enough people know your name. And they are NOT drunk.
I do not regret going there or working there though. First off, (and this is fucking sad), it was the only club in town that played music that made me want to dance. It was the only club in the city where you could dance along side (and sometimes with) gigantic, ex-football players who had become beautiful drag queens and not have to worry that some arse with a jock-itch to scratch was going to swim out of the darkness and start causing trouble. It turned social rejects and weak minded fools into Kings and Queens of the Underworld and though many of those Underworld Queens and Kings grew into parodies of themselves, they were great fun to be around in their time. Other clubs caught up later but for its time, Warehouse was the poo.
Secondly, it was where I had a nervous breakdown that cured me of my drug habit and eventually became the springboard for me ditching the aforementioned friends with absolutely no regrets. It is ironic that sometimes, clear thinking also clears up any doubt of why you started needing to tune out reality in the first place. Luckily for me, I had only burned the most twisted and broken bridges and had a Fairy Godfather (probably the last person in the world anyone would suspect has a heart made of solid gold puppies) holding my hand most of the way across the new one.
I was really happy when I left on Wednesday because unlike my old friends, I didn't settle for spending my life trying to recapture or hold on to an illusory sense of power that I'd sifted from the dubious attention of bar toads. Life rarely affords us positive, healthy closure. When it happens, it fulfills a human need for a linear chronology. We get the book ends. We get straight lines. We get to put a thumbtack on the map. It's like a freshly vacuumed floor or a shiny new dollar bill.
The only real goodbyes in life are the goodbyes that come with this kind of closure because they're cathartic without emotional upheaval. They're more like hellos to the future.
Thanks Tomm, Mike Dangers, Kevin, Dave, Kim, Dusty, and J-Bear for making my memories more memorable.
Monday, May 24, 2004
Show 'em The Door
Joy. I experience the greatest hope for humanity when a small fish decides to take on a bully. The best part of it is when the small fish uses its own tools and ingenuity instead of stooping to building its own Mecha-King Ghidorah. Good luck, Vermont.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Mash the Bataytas
I'm tired of saying goodbye to artists that I love. Maybe it's a good thing that lots of the artists I love were dead long before I was born.
Once in a great while, someone turns me on to a great artist that didn't yet kick the proverbial bucket. Hubert Selby, Jr. was among those great ones. I was nauseated for at least a month after reading "Last Exit to Brooklyn" and "Requiem for a Dream" made me shun all types of chemicals for at least two weeks. When someone can kick me in the ass so hard that I won't even touch coffee, he has power that extends far beyond the human realm.
The kind of mind that can transfer that level of human suffering to the page should have been crowned King of the Human Psyche. He doesn't go far into what it feels like to cry but inches slowly through the reasons that people cry. Actually it would be more accurate to say it inches slowly through the reasons that the soul screams in anguish and what happens when those screams are left to bounce around like a ping-pong ball in the darkest caves of life.
I have not found many people who are sensitive enough to read HSJ's books and understand the pain of the characters and still have the fortitude to find out what happens to them. It is pure, emotional torture but if you are capable of feeling empathy, his writing milks it out of you in gallons. Though some may not see HSJ as a Humanistic writer, I cannot help but see his work as a warning. He gives us archetypal poster children who have wasted their potential in their struggle to avoid truth. Sometimes, the most important things to embrace are the things that are the most terrifying and that embrace can free you in ways that unlock long forgotten doors in your soul. If I got one thing out of HSJ's work, it was that life doesn't have to be that way. Don't fucking waste your potential. It's the worst kind of karma you can cultivate.
Teri Gross (My would-be wife) did a great interview with HSJ not long after Requiem for a Dream was made into an incredible film by another would-be member of my harem, Darren Aronofsky. If you haven't seen it yet, please do so immediately.
Memorial two snaps up to HSJ. Thanks for the emotional hell ride.
Once in a great while, someone turns me on to a great artist that didn't yet kick the proverbial bucket. Hubert Selby, Jr. was among those great ones. I was nauseated for at least a month after reading "Last Exit to Brooklyn" and "Requiem for a Dream" made me shun all types of chemicals for at least two weeks. When someone can kick me in the ass so hard that I won't even touch coffee, he has power that extends far beyond the human realm.
The kind of mind that can transfer that level of human suffering to the page should have been crowned King of the Human Psyche. He doesn't go far into what it feels like to cry but inches slowly through the reasons that people cry. Actually it would be more accurate to say it inches slowly through the reasons that the soul screams in anguish and what happens when those screams are left to bounce around like a ping-pong ball in the darkest caves of life.
I have not found many people who are sensitive enough to read HSJ's books and understand the pain of the characters and still have the fortitude to find out what happens to them. It is pure, emotional torture but if you are capable of feeling empathy, his writing milks it out of you in gallons. Though some may not see HSJ as a Humanistic writer, I cannot help but see his work as a warning. He gives us archetypal poster children who have wasted their potential in their struggle to avoid truth. Sometimes, the most important things to embrace are the things that are the most terrifying and that embrace can free you in ways that unlock long forgotten doors in your soul. If I got one thing out of HSJ's work, it was that life doesn't have to be that way. Don't fucking waste your potential. It's the worst kind of karma you can cultivate.
Teri Gross (My would-be wife) did a great interview with HSJ not long after Requiem for a Dream was made into an incredible film by another would-be member of my harem, Darren Aronofsky. If you haven't seen it yet, please do so immediately.
Memorial two snaps up to HSJ. Thanks for the emotional hell ride.
Sunday, February 29, 2004
Wal-Mart: Economic Syphiltic Whore of the World
Anyone who knows me knows that I despise Wal-Mart. I wish I could have written something as wonderfully succinct as this but hey, someone did and that's what's important.
Wal-Mart is Georgia's largest private employer. Guess what? Georgia's PeachCare for Kids (a health care program for uninsured children) covers fourteen times (fourteen fuckin' times) more children of Wal-Mart employees than employees of any other company in the state.
The way I understand it, the people of Georgia, while saving money at Wal-Mart and padding the already soft pockets of the Walton family, are paying the same amount or more for their products that they would have paid a small business owner because they will be paying for the health care of these children with their tax dollars. This is a lovely little cycle, because the person paying the shitload of taxes resents the poor person who can't afford to insure their kid instead of resenting the asshole screwing both of them over. But think about it. The people at Wal-Mart are figuring out ways to exploit legal loopholes to make sure that other people do not get a fair break in life. And that's just Americans. We're not even going to talk about the copious amounts of jizz that Wal-Mart sprays on people in China and India.
Wal-Mart says that it can offer lower prices basically because of lower overhead. If they stopped with the slave labor, the underpaying of female employees, and actually offered their employees medical, dental, and health insurance, they would have to raise their prices. This would probably place them on the same competitive plane as any other retailer. If that happened, Wal-Mart would cease to be the economic monster that it is and a handful of people would not be disgustingly, obscenely rich. No, that would mean that lots of people had a better shot at being more comfortable. And what kind of crappy world would that be?!
It is easy to assume that ordinary people can't do anything to change how large corporations are ruling the world. But ordinary people are the ones who support those corporations. All a person has to do is go somewhere else or at the very least, do without a two-dollar bucket of pickles. It really is that simple. Wal-Mart is not the only corporate giant that is sucking the spinal fluid out of our economy, but it is (arguably) the biggest wolf sleeping in Grandmother's bed. It sells America's own bullshit back to itself. On one hand, I find that extremely ironic and amusing. On the other hand, speaking as an adult female who still suffers from the effects of severe malnutrition and inadequate health care as a child, my empathy for other children emphatically overwhelms any part of me that can remain detatched from such a wool-pulling.
This isn't even digging that deeply. You can find any number of crappy reasons why you shouldn't go back for seconds at the Wal-Mart Shit Buffet. And bring a shovel from aisle 10.
Wal-Mart is Georgia's largest private employer. Guess what? Georgia's PeachCare for Kids (a health care program for uninsured children) covers fourteen times (fourteen fuckin' times) more children of Wal-Mart employees than employees of any other company in the state.
The way I understand it, the people of Georgia, while saving money at Wal-Mart and padding the already soft pockets of the Walton family, are paying the same amount or more for their products that they would have paid a small business owner because they will be paying for the health care of these children with their tax dollars. This is a lovely little cycle, because the person paying the shitload of taxes resents the poor person who can't afford to insure their kid instead of resenting the asshole screwing both of them over. But think about it. The people at Wal-Mart are figuring out ways to exploit legal loopholes to make sure that other people do not get a fair break in life. And that's just Americans. We're not even going to talk about the copious amounts of jizz that Wal-Mart sprays on people in China and India.
Wal-Mart says that it can offer lower prices basically because of lower overhead. If they stopped with the slave labor, the underpaying of female employees, and actually offered their employees medical, dental, and health insurance, they would have to raise their prices. This would probably place them on the same competitive plane as any other retailer. If that happened, Wal-Mart would cease to be the economic monster that it is and a handful of people would not be disgustingly, obscenely rich. No, that would mean that lots of people had a better shot at being more comfortable. And what kind of crappy world would that be?!
It is easy to assume that ordinary people can't do anything to change how large corporations are ruling the world. But ordinary people are the ones who support those corporations. All a person has to do is go somewhere else or at the very least, do without a two-dollar bucket of pickles. It really is that simple. Wal-Mart is not the only corporate giant that is sucking the spinal fluid out of our economy, but it is (arguably) the biggest wolf sleeping in Grandmother's bed. It sells America's own bullshit back to itself. On one hand, I find that extremely ironic and amusing. On the other hand, speaking as an adult female who still suffers from the effects of severe malnutrition and inadequate health care as a child, my empathy for other children emphatically overwhelms any part of me that can remain detatched from such a wool-pulling.
This isn't even digging that deeply. You can find any number of crappy reasons why you shouldn't go back for seconds at the Wal-Mart Shit Buffet. And bring a shovel from aisle 10.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
We'll Have a Gay Old Time!
My cat has gotten really fat. I did extra yoga tonight to compensate while he crouched in a corner, glaring at me. He thinks I'm trying to make him feel bad for being such a lump of Play-Doh with fur. But I'm trying to lead by example! I don't think he's getting my drift though because he slouched off and walked beneath me when I was in Down Dog and stuffed his whiskers with Friskies.
I thought all they had in Massachusetts were bed and breakfasts and really cute guys in sweaters. With cute dogs. And scones. Wow, they actually did something profoundly moving in the middle of an all out conservative banquet.
Finally gay marriage is legal. I think this is good. BUT there are some who don’t think that equal rights are such a great idea. Since these equal rights seem to be happening despite vehement opposition to them, I figure there’s only one way to stop all this nonsense: make divorce illegal.
This is the best idea since someone said to put “repeat” on the back of the shampoo bottle.
This idea works for me on two levels. First, I can finally have Teri Gross as my wife and she can never get away. Muahahaha!!! Watch out, Teri. I'ma have you. Oh yes, you will be mine.
Ahem.
Secondly, people will shut the fuck up and stop acting like damned fools and I can go to even more weddings and eat free cake and drink a lot.
Gay marriage. Yay!
I thought all they had in Massachusetts were bed and breakfasts and really cute guys in sweaters. With cute dogs. And scones. Wow, they actually did something profoundly moving in the middle of an all out conservative banquet.
Finally gay marriage is legal. I think this is good. BUT there are some who don’t think that equal rights are such a great idea. Since these equal rights seem to be happening despite vehement opposition to them, I figure there’s only one way to stop all this nonsense: make divorce illegal.
This is the best idea since someone said to put “repeat” on the back of the shampoo bottle.
This idea works for me on two levels. First, I can finally have Teri Gross as my wife and she can never get away. Muahahaha!!! Watch out, Teri. I'ma have you. Oh yes, you will be mine.
Ahem.
Secondly, people will shut the fuck up and stop acting like damned fools and I can go to even more weddings and eat free cake and drink a lot.
Gay marriage. Yay!
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