What's the difference between a catfish and a lawyer?
One's a scum sucking bottom dweller, and the other is a fish.
How do you get a lawyer out of a tree?
Cut the rope.
What do you call 10,000 lawyers at the bottom of the ocean?
A good start.
But enough with the pleasantries. Did you know that Tiger is the one who put the curse on the boston red sox? He is also the one who hid all the WMDs in Iraq. He is also the guy who knocked up your sister and skipped town. That's right, it was Tiger.
The New York Yankees traded for Aaron Boone today. Welcome to the evil empire, Aaron. You just completed one of the greatest infields major league baseball has ever seen. When you say all-star infield, and your talking about the Yankees, your being literal.
1b Jason Giambi
2b Alfonso Soriano
SS Derek Jeter
3b Aaron Boone
C Jorge Posada
P They're all nasty
I'm not too happy about getting rid of Brandon Clausson, a minor league pitcher who had good stuff when he came up for one game against the Mutts this year, but for a guy like Aaron Boone it might just be worth it. We also picked up Gabe White, a decent but not spectacular relief pitcher. But when your other options are Jesse Orosco(who's like 90) and Armondo Benitez(who still sucks), the guy starts to look a hell of alot better.
Boston also picked up two solid pitchers in Jeff Suppan and Brandon Lyon from the pirates. The good news is that they ravaged their farm system to do it, giving up their best prospect, Freddy Sanchez, who will be a quality second baseman some day.
The trade deadline doesn't mean shit to the yankees. Look for them to pick up some more pitching before the playoffs on waivers, or whatever scam they run to trade players after the trade deadline ends.
I gotta say that i'm sorry to see Robin Ventura go. He was one of my favorite yankees, always solid in the field, always the right attitude in the clubhouse. He's been in a hell of a slump lately, but you gotta believe a guy like Ventura is going to come around eventually. Too bad for him that eventually isn't how long the Yankees wait for guysto come around.(although you wouldn't know it looking at Jeff "oragami" Weaver and Sterling "my best pitch is a change up" Hitchcock) I'm sure he'll do well in L.A..
I can't believe Aaron Boone is a Yankee. How did you let that happen Boston? The curse continues.
I have so many god damn enemies around here its astounding. It started with Bill, so I guess he gets to be the arch-nemesis. And like all good arch-nemesises, Bill and I became enemies because of a woman. Which is just further proof that women are evil, not that we needed proof.
Then along came Ted. Ted is my enemy because I sexually harass his daughter as often as possible. Well that's what I thought, but apparently Ted was unaware that he is my mortal enemy. Well you are Ted, you are.
And now Mookie has become my enemy, I guess to avenge her dad or something. So now I got an arch-nemesis and a blood feud. That's alot of murderous rage right there.
But not enough apparently, because Tim had to throw his two cents in. Tim is from Michigan, which we all know is in Canada, and so we can conclude that Tim is a frenchman, and therefore no threat to anyone. But just like his frog ancestry, Tim has found someone who is not as cowardly and effimate as he to fight his battles for him.
That brings us to my newest enemy, Kin. Although clever, it's obvious that Kin is a big loser, since he lives on a kouch in his parents' basement. He is also taking the side of a frenchman and a coward
So now I have 5 enemies who I must humiliate and destroy. And I think I got a troll named Bart who does unnatural things to insects and farm animals, but with that kind of M.O. we have to be suspicious that it's just Bill again.
So now I have to come up with some needlessly complicated plot which will capture all 5 of these people and leave them suspended over a giant wood chipper, or molten lava tub or something. Then I have to come up with a plan to take over and/or destroy the world, so I can reveal that plan to the afforementioned enemies as part of said needlessly complicated plot, and then walk away moments before their death without leaving anyone to make sure of their demise. Blogging is hard fucking work I tell ya.
Well today is Thursday, and Armondo Benitez still sucks.
Apparently Bart doesn't like my ranting. That's because Bart molests chickens, and is only interested in rants about chicken molesting. You should try this blog for stuff like that.
Speaking of Bill, I think he tried to hunt me down and kill me yesterday, but he never made it.
Otherwise, I learned something valuable yesterday. If you don't blog all day, you actually get your work done. Who knew? Oh well, just another peice of useless knowledge for ya...
I feel its time to give you fair warning. Football season is about to start, and I'm obsessed with football. So if your not interested in football, I wouldn't read this blog too much on mondays if i were you. Also avoid tuesday, december 2nd, as the jets have a monday night game that week and so bitching will commence on tuesday instead. I'll be doing a segment every week called monday morning quarterback, where I second guess every decision Herm Edwards made that didn't go perfectly, and explain why everything would be better if I were in charge. Hillarity ensues. I'd actually like to find a blogger fan of each team the jets play this year. And on the day after the game, whoever's team wins gets to insult the hell out of the other guy(and his team), and said other guy has to take it quietly and link to the insulting post. I'm predicting a 10-6 season this year, so that means that i'll have to take it like a bitch at least 6 times this year if i get enough participants. So if you are a fan of any of the following teams and are interested in doing this, drop me a comment and we'll set something up. Pre-season, of course, doesn't count. Here's the list of teams the jets play this year:
Washington
Miami x2
New England x2
Dallas
Buffalo x2
Houston
Philadelphia
NY Giants (this will be a good one)
Oakland
Indianapolis
Jacksonville
Tennessee
Pittsburgh
So holla back if you want to play. Thick skinned people only, please. Oh yeah, and you have to actually watch the game.
Hey Glenn! You see Giambi last night? Home run and two doubles, only 1 behind the AL home run leader. Bet you wish he was still on Oakland about now:)
Otherwise, some guy was holding a hostage in long beach yesterday, and the swat team resolved it without killing anyone. Pussies. What happened to the good ole days of "lure him out into the street and then blow his fucking brains out with a sniper?" I miss those days.
Mike the Marine beat me in Frak J.'s "im too lazy to finish this story" contest. According to Frak, he won cuz he complained the most. The lesson here is that if you bitch enough you always get your way. You can see this lesson in action at customer service counters across the country. But seriously, Mike's ending was pretty funny, so go and read it. Mine's down there in the comments, cuz im too cool to be on the main page.
Tim the Michigander brought his love doll home to meet his parents. Go congratulate him by posting "You suck!" in his comments.
I was supposed to have a softball game yesterday, but it was cancelled due to perfect weather. No, actually the other team couldn't get enough guys together to play. But you know what's really fun? Driving from the north shore to the south shore of long island at 5 pm. You'd have to live here to understand, but let's just say I saw a guy get a flat, pull over, fix it, and pull back on the road, and i hadn't even passed him in that time. Good times, good times.
That's all I got for now. But if you read all the way down to this part, then you're really, really bored. So get back to work you god damn slacker!
p.s. I don't proofread. Ever. So if you see a spelling or grammar error, tough shit, i'm not fixing it.
So last night the Yankees traded Raul Mondesi for an old catcher's mitt and an autographed picture of Don Knotts. The guy had an attitude problem, he wasn't a team player, so he had to go. I can respect that. But it's still Raul Mondesi. He has one of the best arms in baseball, regardless of what kind of slump he's in he's got a good bat, and for his size he has decent speed. So the Yankees go ahead and trade him for a single a pitcher and an average at best outfielder. What's going on in your head Cashman?
I know you wanted to dump the guy, but you could've got a valuable player for him. For chrissakes, you dumped him so that Garcia and Pride could get more playing time, and you trade him for another outfielder who isn't as good as he is?! Fucking brilliant. I don't know what's going on in the Yankee organization anymore. They need bullpen help, and they stand by and watch Boston pick up every decent arm that's on the trading block, and you get fucking Armondo Benitez and Jesse Orosco.
Which reminds me:
It's wednesday, and Armondo Benitez still sucks.
Then you trade a guy who's got the 2nd best arm in right field in the whole league(second, of course, to Vladimir Guerrero) for absolutely no one, while boston picks up a talented pitcher. Are you trying to help them end the curse? What's the deal boys? There better be some serious trade activity today, or else the Yankees are gonna be in quite a shitty situation come september. Fuckin christ, you guys practically invented the rule, and now you've forgotten it? Pitching wins championships. Good hitting will get you into the playoff hunt, good defense will get you into theplayoffs. But once you get there, if you don't have a bullpen you'll be dead in the water. And the Yankees don't have a bullpen, they have a guy who's my dad's age and Armondo fucking Benitez. Get your shit together, Cashman, or Steinbrenner is gonna show you the door.
Now if you haven't noticed by now, your probably being talked about over here, but I like to bust people's balls, particularly Glenn's balls. But all kidding aside, he has this audioblog thing going on over there, and its some seriously cool shit(hence the title). You really get a feel for what he's like when you hear him talk, I think, and he has a good speaking voice, because you can tell he actually talks like that in real life. Go check that shit out immediately.
There once was a man named Tim,
From a dirty place called Michigan,
He took a wet shit,
and fell right in it,
and never washed himself again.
There once was a guy called Bill,
Who hailed from the redneck hill,
he shot up steroids,
till he got hemorrhoids,
cut 'em off and ate them from the grill.
I knew a man called Rocketjones,
With a daughter who had no cajones,
Rude comments abound,
Until Ted came around,
And broke all of my little bones.
Susie gave shelter to Paul,
Who lived in her comments; what gaul!
Bill shooed him away,
Now he's come home to stay,
In a round room with one padded wall.
Glenn was a friend who was trim,
'till he stopped going down to the gym,
he's gotten quite round,
And you can now hear the sound,
Of his ass growing large from within.
John is the host of this site,
where he posted with all of his might,
But his limericks suck,
So you don't give a fuck,
That he never got his tenses right.
Glenn "the blender" Reynolds is looking at a mazda rx-8. Having just recently bought a car myself, I'm going to tell you all why the mazda rx-8 is a piece of shit and why Glenn should buy a Subaru Impreza sTi instead.
The rx-8 is not actually a piece of shit. It's a nice car. It's got a solid rotary engine and its a quality overall machine. The problem is that when you compare it to the Subaru Impreza sTi it just doesn't stack up.
Three words... All Wheel Drive
While the rx-8 is a rear wheel drive vehicle, which is nice considering how many car manufacturers have caved and made even their sportscars front wheel drive standard, mazda kept it real with the rear wheel drive. RWD is cute off the line and all, but it doesn't compare to the overall driving experience an AWD vehicle has to offer. RWD creates oversteer on turns, which makes one more prone to spinning out or fishtailing when accelerating around bends. AWD on the other hand, drags the car back into line when accelerating on turns, creating a minor understeer, but sticking to the road rather nicely overall and allowing you to take turns at greater speeds with better control. RWD is also more prone to slip and spin the tires, which is fun for a little bit, but it just means you sit there and watch the AWD vehicle next to you chirp and take off as you sit there making a cloud out of your tires.
The engine - Like i said, the mazda has a nice rotary 1.3 liter engine. Its a solid machine. The Impreza sTi has a 1.8liter turbocharged engine, which produces matching 247 horsepower. This means that the mazda will pull ahead in the low rpm, which is offset by the AWD of the impreza, and then once you break the 4000 RPM line the subaru takes off and leaves the mazda in the dust. If you wanna get a little bit nutty, which i doubt mr. reynolds does, you can go for the 2.5 rs impreza and drop in a twin turbo yourself. The 2.5RS has an engine straight from a porsche boxter, just without the twin turbo. Drop in the twin turbo and you'll leave the sTi and the rx-8 at the line like you were lined up next to your mom's 83 buick roadmaster.
The appearance - The rx-8 looks like an audi on acid. Its rounded off waay too much, just like the Nissan 350z. It really looks like a hyundai tiberon, which is also a nice car, but after spending 30 grand do you really want people to say "hey, that looks just like my Hyundai!"? Me neither. The subaru is a bit more boxy, and looks more like a car than a space ship. It also has a really cool air intake on the front hood, giving it a bit of flavor. Throw a spoiler on there and you have one mean looking machine.
The performance - Everyone wants a fast car, but you also have to be realistic. You're gonna be driving this thing around in the snow, the rain, on poorly paved roads. AWD is superior to RWD in all of these situations. RWD vehicles are meant to be driven on flat, freshly paved surfaces. Now I don't know where Glenn lives, but nowhere around here is anything like that, except for the race track out in riverhead. It's nice to be able to go just as fast when its raining as when its dry, and not have to worry about pushing your car out of the parking lot come winter.
The Impreza sTi has about the same amount of room in the interior as the rx-8, and has a real sporty feel to it. It almost looks like a cockpit inside. They run around the same price, and have about the same warranties. Subaru has a much better reputation for holding out over time though, as mazda's tend to fall apart after 6 or 7 years and develop electrical problems(at least in my experience) which are expensive to fix and annoying to ignore. Both companies parts are on the expensive side, so its pretty much a toss up as far as replacement costs go.
If you want a really fast car, you can also look at the Audi 1.8TT. The setback is that the audi is a two-seater, so no room in there for the insta-daughter. But i think mr. Reynolds should take a good long look at the Subaru Impreza sTi before he signs the papers for the RX-8. I think he, and anyone else looking for this type of vehicle, will be pleasantly surprised at all that subaru has to offer.
It turns out that Rocketjones is actually Mookie's father. I hereby retract all lewd, insulting, and condescending remarks I have made toward Mookie, or anything else that might make her dad want to beat me up.
Tim the Michigander is a wanker.
Bill likes to watch him wank.
That is all.
It is now the official policy of this website to slander, insult, and chide Tim the Michigander, who is a fat idiot, at every convenient moment. That is all.
The guy with the bomb yesterday never got shot. What a load of shit that turned out to be.
It's Tuesday, and Armondo Benitez still sucks.
The first pre-season game for the Jets is this saturday at 8 pm on ESPN. That's really good news, because I was originally told the game would air at 5 a.m., and I would be really, really drunk by then.
Kobe gave his wife a 4 million dollar ring for cheating on her. At that rate, he can only bang 3 other broads this year or else he's gonna go broke.
LeBron James is not married, so he is banging tons of broads for free.
I've noticed some people are finding humor in the death of Bob Hope. That would be fine, except its the same person who usually bitches and moans when suicide bombers kill jewish people. That makes you a hypocrite. I'm gonna start cracking anti-semetic jokes in the comments of your suicide bomber posts and see how you like that shit. Scumbag. Show some respect for a hero who actually risked his life to support the troops, while you sit on your fat ass with your cats bitching and moaning about the injustices of the world but not really doing a god damn thing about it. The nerve of some people.
They found the dead body of that basketball player in Waco Texas. That just further proves my theory that Waco is an old indian world for "portal to the gates of hell." Other proof includes the fact that it's in Texas. And that Koresh guy.
Bill Cimino beats up homeless people and pees on their cardboard box houses.
Madonna is going to be the new spokesperson for The Gap. I can't think of anything really clever here, so i'll just say that this is fitting because of the size of her snatch.
The NBA and NFL are battling hard for the "Most likely to have a player arrested" award. I think that the NFL is winning, since the Dallas Cowboy motto is still "That coke's not gonna snort itself!" You can chock that up to their proximity to the gates of hell, aka Waco.
Back in the days of the second world war, there was a particularly nasty japanese spy, who was known as the Kimono dragon. This man was one of the most detrimental individuals to the American war campaign and the perception of Japanese Americans alike. The Kimono dragon was known for cooking his neighbors cats and dogs, and then inviting those neighbors over for a meal. He would feed them their own pets, and then after the meal, he would show them pictures of himself killing the animals and preparing them for dinner. He would then have a hearty laugh, and dip his testicles in hot wax.
He would later be known as the Cimino dragon, who went by the street name of Bill. In addition to eating pets, he was also a communist sympathizer. He organized marches and resistance movements, and stole secrets from the government for his native home of Japan. He was the sole party responsible for framing the Rosenbergs, or so the legend goes. It is also said that he was later the second gunman on the grassy knoll. This theory came about when they discovered the fried remains of Lee Harvey Oswald's kitten near the scene, half eaten, covered in candle wax.
The Cimino dragon was forced into early retirement because of a severe case of gout, although some believe he still works as a communist spy to this day. He is well over 80 years old, and is believed to live somewhere in the redneck hills of Virginia, where inbreeding abounds. Be wary if you come into contact with this man, as he is posing as a regular citizen, although he is easily identified by his decrepid age and, of course, his gout. Gout was eliminated years ago, when men discovered how to rid gout causing goblins from their bloodstream. The Cimino dragon was never cured, because of his fondness for all things evil, he actually enjoyed hosting the goblins. So if you see a decrepid old man complaining about his gout, you have found the dreaded Cimino dragon, who may be living under the alias, Bill Cimino.
Bill Cimino met a sailor at TGI Fridays last week. The sailor never did call him back, but did leave him with a little thing called herpes, which he then gave to the dog.
Bill was once arraigned to Nevada, where he was wanted for having sex with horses. He was arrested by officer Meoff, Jack, who found him raping chickens in a henhouse in Wisconsin.
Bill once set up his friend with a blind date, a woman he described as looking like Janet Jackson. Unfortunately, she got out the car lookin like Freddy Jackson, who is Bill's biological father.
One time at band camp, Bill shoved a Tuba up his own ass. He liked it so much, he began sitting on flashlights as a hobby.
A homeless man once convinced Bill that he could gain the superpowers of aquaman if he ate enough sea men. When Bill enquired where he could gain some sea men of high quality, the homeless man told him that all he had to do was close his eyes and suck it out of a hose. He promptly agreed.
I didn't want to tell them Bill, but I felt I owed it to them.
(two points each for the first person to correctly identify the quotes. Except the band camp one, which is just too easy.)
Susie had a great idea in which Bill and I(yes, I just linked myself. Take that blog ecosystem!) would have a 24 hour insultathon to sponsor, uhm, something or other. I dunno, I don't really like to do "good deeds" for "other people", but I guess I could make an exception. But since Bill and I are obviously entirely too lazy to do anything for 24 hours straight(except the dolls, of course), and Bill is too much of a pansyass to survive 24 hours of insults from me, I will instead include an insulting remark toward Bill in every one of my posts. I think I just called him a pansy-ass, so this post is covered. Now all I have to do is set up a paypal account, and you can donate money to my John wants to buy expensive things fund. The John wants to buy expensive things fund is a not-for-profit organization which benefits adequately privelidged white kids from the suburbs, in the form of monetary benefits to be used at their frivolous discretion. So help a middle class cracker buy new playstation games today, err, tomorrow, err, whenever I get around to opening a paypal account. Bill's a weenie.
There's a crazy man walking around on 5th Avenue in the middle of New York City with a bomb strapped to his chest. And for some reason, a sniper hasn't blown his fucking brains all over the street yet. If you can give me one good fucking reason that this guy is still breathing, I'll give you 10 points. But I have to warn you ahead of time, that there's no good reason; the police are a bunch of PR whipped pussies.
Armondo Benitez is the Yankees best bullpen option, bombs are going off in Israel and India, there's gunfights in Saudi Arabia, there's a stack of shit on my desk so high I can't even find the keyboard, and Bob Hope is dead. How the fuck do you think i'm doing?
Armondo Benitez fucking sucks. I don't know why anyone, much less the Yankee organization, thinks otherwise, but let's just make sure we all understand this. The guy is a choke artist. Bill Buckner can't hold a candle to Armondo Benitez, okay? He's garbage. Bush league. He should be bagging groceries at stop and shop, alright? Don't put him in unless your up by 12 or down by 5, because he can't handle the pressure. Boston lit him up like a god damn christmas tree all weekend. You wasted your money on him. Write it off as a loss and move on, cut him, send him to the minors, trade him for an old glove and Sosa's corked bat for all I care. But whatever you do, do not put this guy in a situation that matters. For the love of god, how many times do you have to watch the guy choke before you realize that it happens every time? I don't even want to talk about it anymore, it makes me sick.
I didn't win Frank J.'s contest, which just proves that Frank J.'s readers have no eye for talent. I mean comeon people, there was an AIDS joke! Seriously. But i think there's something wrong with his vote counter, because I voted for myself over 200 times on different IP addresses. Oh well, I still beat Bill, so I can taunt him mightily. And that's all I ever wanted out of the contest, really.
So hey Bill! Neener neener neener!
I found a picture of Bill's wife. And damn, she's hot. Go ahead and check her out.
Update - And just when i thought I couldn't get any more jealous of Bill, I found a picture of his car. And there's a picture of Bill 2 years ago.
Wow, here's one of his highschool sweetheart, and a site all about the neighborhood he grew up in. That's Bill, up there at the top.
Oh crap. I forgot to blogroll yet another person who's site I read. So yeah, new addition to the blogroll is Mookie Riffic, Mookie is a 16 year old girl, thus making her only slightly more mature than me, Bill, and Paul combined. Amusing stuff over there.
And remember kids, look but don't touch. 16 will get you 20.
If there's anyone else my stupid ass forgot to blogroll, just let me know. I'll either add you immediately or horribly ridicule you for thinking you have what it takes to become a member of such an elite list.
Courtesy of the lizardoid overlord
If your too lazy to click the link, the poll says that 1 in 3 germans under the age of 30 believe that the U.S. government actually launched the WTC attacks. 19% of the overall population surveyed as well.
Now ain't that some shit? But then again, what do you expect from a country that rounds up 20% of its population and sends them to death camps.
As a good world citizen, I believe it is the duty of the United States to set these people straight. So what we do is we carpet bomb Germany. Just every 150 feet or so, we drop a bomb, or some napalm, or Michael Moore, hell i'm not picky, but we should just throw some shit at them. And then we get all our news stations to claim that the german government were the ones responsible for the attack. I don't know how this will help, but it would give me something good to watch. Plus, maybe a few of those bombs would miss and land in France.
Odds are that the bombing would kill off at least 31% of the population under the age of 30, thus clearing the "master race" of their most idiotic members. True germans would appreciate that kind of efficient genetic cleansing. The only downside I can see is that it's going to delay the next german invasion of France by a couple of decades.
We got pictures of two dead Husseins
I'm glad they didn't pussy out and keep those pictures from public consumption, like they are doing with the WTC images. But why stop at just pictures? We need to generate some revenue to cover the cost of this war, so let's behave like true capitalist pigs for once.
I propose that each of Uday and Quasimotos teeth be removed, have a hole bored into them, and strung into a necklace. Sell the necklaces on e-bay. Hell I got 200 bux right here for a Uday tooth necklace. And I'm sure someone richer than me but just a twisted would pay double that for ears and eyeballs! Get it while the gettings good, I say.
But we won't do that, because our government is a bunch of prudish pussies.
First of all, I gotta once again thank Pixy Misa for getting me off of blogspot. I had never used movable type before, so I had no idea what a difference there was. Amazing.
I also gotta thank Bill from Bloviating Inanities, because without him this blog wouldn't exist to be moved.
Whoops! Kim Du Toit actually came to my site and actually read it and stuff! And he blogrolled me. And my stupid ass never remembered to put him on my blogroll, where he belongs as I read his site all the time. Caught me with shit on my face, he did.
I added a bunch of other blogs over there too, and you should read them all. Except for the ones that are competing with me in Frank J's contest, like Bloviating Inanities. So whatever you do, don't read them until after the contest is over.
That being said, you guys need to head over to IMAO and vote for me. I'm not allowed to tell you which one it is, but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out.
YOU PAY! YOU GO NOW!
Everybody is flipping out about this whole what makes a conservative study. Well, people, you need to calm down a bit. You see, you have to translate what was said from moron to english before you can properly interpret the information.
1. Fear and Aggression - The two most important factors in the survival of the human race. Without fear, without aggressive behavior, we would've all been eaten up and shit out a long time ago. I for one am proud of the fact that I can act aggressively to defend myself, rather than sit there and get bitched like a berkeley student would if you slapped him around a little bit.
2. Dogmatism and intolerance of ambiguity - Forget dogmatism off the bat. I'm an atheist. But let's just look at this right here, intolerance of ambiguity. What does that really mean? That means that you don't let morons feed you a bunch of vague and generalized bullshit where facts and valuable information should be. That means when you ask the mechanic how much its gonna be, and he says in the hundreds, you don't say "fine", you say "how many hundreds?" Anyone who is tolerant for ambiguity, let me know if you need any contractor work done on your house. A new roof perhaps?
3. Uncertainty avoidance - Means exactly what it says, avoidance of uncertainty. I dunno about you, but I like to know how shit is gonna go down before I get there. I don't do things that involve alot of uncertainty, you see... I don't vacation in Palestine, I don't walk around alone on flatbush avenue at night, and I don't lend money to people if i'm uncertain where they will be for the next couple of months. You may call it a tenet of conservativism or whatever fancy bullshit name these fucknuts came up with; I call it getting screwed over avoidance.
4. Need for cognitive closure - That's a real clever way to say you like to know how shit ends. Do you like to watch the first hour and a half of a movie and then turn it off for the last 10 minutes? Do you read books and then just skip the last chapter? Then maybe you too posess the need for cognitive closure. I can see how this one came to be...
"We only came up with 4, sir."
"But I spent all the grant money already, and I promised them at least 5 character traits! FUCK!"
"What if we put in something really ambigious, but dress it up with a vague psychological term?"
"That will never work! Everyone always remembers the last entry, they'll tear us to shreds!"
"What if we hide it at #4? Everybody always skips #4."
"Brilliant! You get the first bong hit for that one."
5. Terror Management - Terror management? Is that like, being afraid but not running around screaming and burning flags and crying and shit? I dunno, I'm not real tolerant for ambiguous terms like this, so I guess my viewpoint is a bit biased.
So there you have it. Conservatives posses the following characteristics:
1. Not pussies
2. Don't like doubletalk bullshit
3. Plan things before they actually do them
4. Like to know the end
5. Don't flee in terror at the first sign of danger.
What this basically says that if you aren't french, you're probably a conservative. Which just further proves my theory; Senator Kelly is a frenchman.
I just saw a commercial for a pill called "The Chaser". This magic pill supposedly guarantees that you won't get a hangover after drinking if you take it the night before. Bull fucking shit. Mankind has been researching the preventative treatment for a hangover longer than they have been trying to cure the cold. It doesn't exist.
Of course that doesn't mean im not going to try it:) And if it works, well, the blogging will be light for the next decade or two.
James Davis was just killed in the New York City Council, after a gunman open fired on a balcony.
Let me be the first depraved, callous individual to say,
"Shoulda got Bloomberg instead."
On monday, I posted this.
And then today, MSN's lead story on their website is this.
Coincidence? I think not! Obviously, the fat cats over at MSN have realized what a strangle hold I have on the pulse of America, and they are stealing my stories and claiming them as their own. I'm drawing a line in the sand. Across this line, you DO NOT...Oh who the hell am I kidding.
So I started moving over my old blogspot posts to here, when I realized that it was a big pain in the ass. So I decided i'd just move the first post, and then the really good posts. so I moved the injury story, and the thing from two days ago, and, well, that's about it as far as really good posts go. Maybe I'll move the boobytraps one too, but thats about it.
So yeah, if you have any other posts you really liked and think I should move here, just let me know which ones and I'll do it. otherwise, you can always just read about my nose again.
That's what it always said on my report cards, anyway. I wasn't quite sure what the teacher meant by "problems with authority" either, until yesterday when I went for a golf lesson. My girlfriend's parents had gotten me a gift certificate for 50 bucks to take a golf lesson(I really am that bad). So I sign up and go down to the driving range. But when I go to pay for the lesson, the lady at the desk tells me I can't use my gift certificate for a golf lesson, because the gift certificate is from the pro shop. So I look 5 feet to my right, where the pro shop is(inside the driving range), and the little hamster in my head starts to run.
"What's the difference between the pro-shop and the driving range?" I ask in my most innocent tone.
"Well, they're separately owned and operated companies."
"Separately owned and operated companies you say?"
"That's right."
"So your telling me that the pro-shop right over there, with the same name as the driving range, located inside the same building, operated by the same employees, is a separate and un-related company."
"That's right."
"It doesn't even have a separate door for chrissakes!"
Aurora borealis? At this time of year, at this time of night, in this part of the country, localized only in your kitchen? Yes.
Can I see it? No.
So I walk the two and a half feet from the driving range counter to the pro-shop counter. And I shit you not, the same girl from the driving range counter walks over, goes behind the pro-shop counter, looks at me and says "Can I help you?"
No, I'm just looking, you stupid bitch. Okay, you want to play games?
"Yes you can, I'd like to return this gift certificate."
"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that."
"And why can't you do that, might I ask?"
"Because only Rich can refund gift certificates, he's the manager."
"Well where the fuck is Rich then!?!"
"He's on vacation, he'll be back next week."
Normally, this is where I lose it. Well to be fair, normally I would've lost it a long time ago. But for some reason I had a really long fuse yesterday; I don't know why. So rather than start breaking windows and scaring little children, I decide i'll just pay for the golf lesson and take it up with my pal Rich next week. So I walk back to the other counter, idiot desk chimp in tow, and tell the girl that I will just pay for the lesson. So she rings me up, I put it on my debt card, and she gives me the receipt to sign. 50 dollars for a half hour lesson. There goes that hamster again.
I look up at the huge 10' by 5' sign behind the counter that says "INTRODUCTORY GOLF LESSON $25!!! SIGN UP TODAY!"
"Do you think this is fucking funny or something, you stupid bitch!?!"
"Excuse me?"
"Look if you want to be a fucking prick and bust my balls about the gift certificate, that's fine, I'll take it up with Ricky. But who the hell do you think you're dealing with?"
"Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about. Don't yell at me."
"No idea what I'm talking about? No idea? I'm talking about the HUGE NEON FUCKING SIGN behind you that says the golf lesson costs 25 dollars, and you're charging me 50. What the fuck is the matter with you!?!"
"Ohmygawd(if you've been to Long Island, you know what this sounds like), calm down. You didn't say it was an introductory lesson. You have to say that."
"Holy shit lady, did you eat paint chips as a kid? Does it SEEM like i've taken a lot of lessons here before!?!"
"Well how was I supposed to know!"
"You know what? Forget it. Let me talk to your manager."
"He's not here."
"Where is he?"
"He's on vacation until next week."
"What's his name?"
"Rich."
Wow. You have de-railed.
I really didn't know what to do at this point, so I just started laughing. And the counter monkey there, I guess got confused or saw something shiny, because eventually she started laughing, too. The sad part is, all this time I thought the girl was messing with me, and it turned out that she really was that stupid.
I gave up and had her ring me up for the 25 dollar lesson, and off I go. But lunch is over now, so I gotta get back to work, I'll tell you about the actual lesson a little bit later.
So I was downstairs, on line at the deli to get lunch, reading the closed caption of president Bush's press conference, or at least the part that I caught while I waited for my sandwich. He was calling out Iran and Syria for their connections to terrorism at that particular time, and it got me to thinking about what a long trip it's been from that day and today. You know which day I'm talking about. It started in New York City, blazed across half the world to Afghanistan, rolled right through to the only real quagmire we have seen since Vietnam(the U.N.), then broke through Iraq with the swift hand of vengeance. We've come a long way in these two short years, and the real danger is only facing us now; the gate guards are dead, now we assault the fortress of our enemies. We're taking it to their house, and the stakes will rise considerably. Afghanistan was backlash; they were the man holding the gun when the eyes of America turned east. Iraq, on the other hand, was the figurehead; our old enemy Saddam, today's face of evil in America. While both of them played key roles in the army of islamic fundamentalism, deep down we all realize that these countries are but the limbs of the beast; cutting them off buys us time, but alone they are not victories. To walk away now would gain us nothing but a delay from the day of reckoning. I count my blessings each day that Bush "stole" the election, that the supreme court awarded him the presidency. Had Gore been president when 9/11 happened, this would be a much different world today, and we would all be much worse for the wear.
The eyes of our nation turn now to Syria, to Iran. We climb ever closer to the top of the terrorist mountain, where Saudi Arabia sits, watching in fear. They pledge their allegiance and swear their cooperation, doing their damndest to delay that final day of reckoning when the U.S. finally admits the truth; Saudi Arabia has been at the heart of it all from the beginning. Our government knows this; there are many level-headed and well informed people out there who see them for what they really are; the source of this new enemy of freedom. But there are a great number more who cannot accept it, will not admit it until they hold a bloody dagger over the bodies of dead Americans. Lucky for us, our President, our leader knows that we cannot wait for that day to come. We continue to fight, although not always with the force of tanks and men of arms, we continue to inch closer to the belly of the beast.
It has been a long journey indeed, full of fear, uncertainty, anger and rage. It parallels a journey I took myself, just days after the defining moment of my generation. When the planes hit, I was in upstate New York at college. After assuring the safety of my father, who's office is located in the closest building to the trade center that is still standing today, I decided it would be best to head home for the weekend, and enjoy the company of the family that I damn near lost that day. A trip to our summer camp in Saratoga to bring some things home for winter, and I was on my way. A strange place to start a strange journey. Saratoga; where Washington won the Revolutionary War. I drove through that historical town, and looked around me at the quaint little summer excursion, who's only claim to fame these days is a horse racing track. In the center of the town there is a park, and in front of that park sits a statue of a man riding a horse. The horses two front legs are raised in air, because the man died in battle. His name has long since worn away from the base of that statue. In that very town, by the hand of this unnamed man and others like him, America was won. It was the first of many long, hard battles, all of which could've changed the course of history as we know it. But it all started in that small town called Saratoga, where an army of barefoot men held out a winter, outmanned and outgunned, and won themselves the freedom to decide their own destiny.
And from there I headed south. Down I went, parallel to the Hudson River, where the British planned to attack in 1812. Further and further south I drove through history, passed the old factory towns where cannons and ammunition were made for the Civil War. Over the river where the barges carried materials to be sent to Europe for the first Great War. Passed the county where my great uncle called home, after being shot down, rescued, sunk, rescued again, only to be captured and released so that he could be shot down and rescued once more in World War II.
Further south I went, passing the exit to another highway, which would lead you to the home of John F. Kennedy if you took it far enough. South and south I go, only to arrive at the Whitestone Bridge, where I found fear. 100 miles an hour the cars careened over that bridge, engine blaring at 5500 RPMs. Some sped in fear; fear of a bomb, of another attack on an easy target such as a bridge. Others, sped away in disgust, refusing to look up at the shattered skyline of New York City, where a steady pile of black smoke still leaked away into the afternoon sky. You could smell the destruction from that bridge. You could smell the charred and burning building, the rotten stench of innocent human flesh melting away into ash and bone. At the crest of this bridge, I found uncertainty, as I finally looked up and gazed at the wounded city. Would it ever be the same? Would the city recover? I looked long and hard at that billowing smoke, which is where I found anger. You tried to kill my father, you sons of bitches. A 2 year old boy down the block is growing up with a picture instead of a dad. The girl nextdoor to him moved to in with grandma, orphaned by your sickening religion. It was thoughts of those children, of their scars, their uncertain future, that finally brought me to rage. A terrible thing, rage, as I will never look at an Arab the same again. The rest of my life, I will see them as the enemy, the same way my grandfather looks at the Japanese. I can reason and rationalize all I want, the feeling in the pit of my stomach will not change, my eyes will continue to glow red behind the hazel when a black turban comes into their scope. I have become a true racist, and that will never change; it was branded on my very soul, up on the bridge that day at 100 miles an hour.
160 miles I had travelled, from the birthplace of our nation to the worst assault it has ever beared. And from there, only one thing to do; head to the east. So east I went, onto the Long Island Expressway, to my home, where I found my mother. Not my father, for he had already come and gone, spending 18 hours a day in Manhattan, assessing, organizing, cleaning up his building on West Street. On went the television, and that is where I found victory.
Thousands of men and women, just like my dad, just like the orphaned girl's late fireman father, headed west. In they went, an army of heroes; regular men and women just like you and I. They carried their weapons: Water. Food. Blankets. Flashlights. Shovels and cranes, asbestos masks and dump trucks, sawzalls and the jaws of life. Off they went into Manhattan, to save lives. To restore power and light. To restore order. To clean up the mess left for us by the depraved minions of religious zealots and murderers. And it was then that I knew we would emerge victorious. There was no fear in these people; sadness, uncertainty, anger and rage abounded, but there was no fear.
My journey that day ended where our latest journey as a nation had begun. In the shadow of smoke, where the rubble still burned. And a long trip it was, down the alley of history, right into the center of our nation's greatest wound. There will forever be a scar on New York City; if you have seen the design for the building to be erected there, you can see the shape of it. A curved and surreal structure; a modern painting in the heart of a gothic gallery. A building who's sole shape and design revolved around not casting a shadow on that day at that time for the rest of history. A scar on the face of a city so rich in history that it will be spoken of until the end of humanity. Rome. Athens. New York City.
From there I have ridden a passenger, George Bush our pilot, in a journey for freedom. History is made around us, each day, each passing week, not 2 years from that terrible day. A new millenia, a new, globalized world, and a new enemy to freedom everywhere. We have landed now in enemy territory. We took the Afghanistan outpost, marched through the screaming enemies of freedom in the U.N.. We crushed the guards at the gate in Iraq, where we hold our position and wait. Wait for something, for anything. A sign of some sort, it seems, or a provocation. We stand in the middle of Mesopotamia, glaring all around us, waiting for someone to test the rage of our country which has only barely been tapped to this day. We wait for Iran to fall from within. We wait for Syria to make a mistake; to reveal their hand and give us reason to exact vengeance on them as well. We wait for the proof we know exists, the final piece of the puzzle that undeniably proves Saudi Arabia to be the belly of the terrorist beast. Guns drawn, teeth clinched in rage, we wait. What a long journey it has been.
And yet, it has only just begun. Our destination lies somewhere, in the cradle of humanity; in a putrid desert unfit for human inhabitants, where crazed bearded men sit reading some evil tomb which teaches them to hate. To hate their own wives; to martyr their children in the name of a God who doesn't exist. Or perhaps he does, and he chooses to punish and torture these people, who live in poverty with no hope of escape. Still they believe the words of an insane ghost called Mohammed, who refuses to allow them to grow and prosper as a people. But their days in that squalid wasteland lay numbered, because of men like the fireman down the block; because of men like my father; like my neighbor, who floats on a ship outside of Iraq this day; his newborn son growing a bit older without knowing his own father, as the battle rages on. Each numbered day, George Bush leads us, inch by inch, toward the belly of the beast.
We pull the unwilling behind us, protecting them as best we can, although they proclaim their hatred for us and their love for the enemy; the same enemy who wishes nothing more than their destruction. The day is fast approaching when this trip will be over, and victory is certain. Victory is visible in the heart and soul of our City, where men and women continue to dig, to rebuild. It is visible in the flags that adorn our streets, and in the eyes of our soldiers who remain longer than they should in the wasteland of Iraq. It is audible in the flaring tones of anger that come from the Iraqi council, who are only now taking their first steps toward democracy. Toward freedom. There is no fear, because there is nothing to fear. Victory is all around us. We will win this war on terror, of that much I am sure.
