Michelle M.Today Michelle's mood is triumphant (but still querulous, indignant, and disgruntled, because that's just part of her nature now). It seems that Denver's mayor has backed down and said they won't replace the "Merry Christmas" sign with a "Happy Holidays" one next year after all. So, does this means that Michelle and her readers are going to follow my suggestion and take the money they would have spent spent mailing packages of charcoal to the mayor, and donate it that Denver clinic for poor, sick children? You know, to demonstrate the true spirit of Christmas? Um, no.
I don't know about you, but I would prefer to use my limited time and resources this season to be kind to people, rather than to annoy various officials about things that really aren't that important. But hey, I didn't get caught using my maiden name as my legal name after being catty to Teresa Heinz Kerry about her name, so what do I know about charity? And speaking of that little embarassment, Limbagh the Lesser jumped in to defend Michelle, presumably in the hopes that she would think he was cool.
David, honey, from what I've read, a marriage certificate serves as proof of name change, so no fomal paperwork would be necessary if Michelle wanted to register her books in her married name. But I am a liberal, so her explanation doesn't make sense to me -- are you implying that Michelle was never legally wed? If so, I don't think the inscrutable Michelle will appreciate your attempt to defend her from the big, bad libs. And David, this is how much time it takes to find out about the name under which Michelle's books are copyrighted: open one of her books, look at the the title page, note that it says "copyright by Michelle Maglalang." So, all of 3 seconds (liberal geniuses are pretty fast readers). Oh, and Michelle, if you do ever come to love your husband enough to want to change your name for tax purposes, here's the info on how to do it. BTW, Paul Bear, who blogs at A Crank's Progress, emailed me with an excellent suggestion:
So, from now on she's Michelle Maglalang Malkin. (And her husband, assuming he ever does anything worthy of comment, will be Jesse Michelle Malkin.) 5:08:12 AM  |
Sunday CinemaAnd speaking of Hollywood's treatment of men (which Doug Giles was just doing --- see entry below), there is a chapter in our book, Subliminal Cinema, which deals with that topic. So, grab yourself a semiautomatic weapon, a can of refried beans, and some Charmin, and enjoy the first section of Scott C.'s "Ziggy Stardust, Action Hero." ********** ZIGGY STARDUST, ACTION HEROThe 1980s were a manly time for motion pictures; an age when movies about muscular men with speech impediments signaled an end to the agonizing introspection of the Post-Vietnam era. In the oeuvre of Stallone and Swartzenegger, we saw the birth of a new breed of hero, a brawny man untroubled by malaise or moral relativism; a modern legend, with the physical strength and spiritual purity of a Hercules, and the accent of a shoemaking dwarf from the Black Forest. And yet, for every Stallone or Swartzeneggar, there was also a Kurt Thomas, or a Barry Bostwick--fey and elfin heroes who fiercely bitch-slapped their enemies on behalf of the American way. Judging by the action movies of the 1980s, it wasn't only testosterone and body grease that brought down the Berlin Wall–it was dance belts and bilevel haircuts, too, as can be seen in our analysis of two classic '80s action flicks, "Gymkata," and "Megaforce."  Gymkata (1985) This movie was based on a book, The Terrible Game, and probably the filmmakers’ worst misstep was changing the title to Gymkata. Not to say that The Terrible Game isn’t a lousy title in itself, but we would have opted for a more modest adjustment, and called it simply, The Terrible Movie. (Actually, saying this cheeseball of a script was based on a novel is like saying that Count Chocula cereal is based on Le Fanu’s Carmilla.) The Terrible Game is actually The Most Dangerous Game, as designed by the President’s Council on Physical Fitness. It requires the player to run around and climb a rope, and we’re told that only a select few people in the world can meet this grueling challenge: either world-class gymnasts, like American champion Kurt Thomas, or 11-year olds who’ve passed sixth-grade gym. The movie opens with an angry white man--Kurt’s dad, who's apparently playing on the Terrible Game Senior Tour--attempting to cross the rope bridge at Camp Snoopy. Richard Norton (who we know is evil because he’s wearing Sonny Bono’s sheepskin vest from Wild on the Beach) shoots an arrow into Kurt’s dad, who falls to his death. Cut to the United States, where the Olympic Games are being held in a high-school auditorium. American champion Kurt Thomas dismounts the parallel bars, and is immediately recruited by the CIA to play The Game, which is held in Parmistan, a mountain kingdom ruled by "the Khan." Kurt will be trained by Princess Ruballi, the Khan’s daughter, and even though she spends the first half of the film attempting to do grievous harm to his groin (knee it, stab it, rope-burn it, etc.), Ruballi eventually becomes Kurt’s love interest, because she’s the only person in the film who’s shorter than he is. Kurt and the Princess white-water raft into Parmistan, where they’re promptly attacked by Himalayan ninjas. Dressed in black Dr. Dentons and black Ku Klux Klan hoods, topped off with those red plastic hats from Devo’s "Whip It!" video, they present a fearsome sight. Hopelessly outnumbered, Kurt unleashes the secret martial art of Gymkata, and manages to overcome his assailants using the deadly power of Olga Korbut’s compulsory floor routine from the ’72 Olympics. Once in the capital, Kurt and the other competitors meet the Khan, who is apparently a member of The Davy Crockett Hair Club for Men, and who explains the rules of "The Game." Basically, you run around and climb on various pieces of playground equipment until someone shoots you with an arrow. If Kurt wins, the U.S. will be allowed to build a "Star Wars" satellite-tracking station in Parmistan. If Kurt loses, he will be killed in the traditional way: shot with an arrow while playing the "Smack the Mole" game at a Chuck E. Cheese. The next morning, the Khan announces that Sheepskin will wed Princess Ruballi after the game, with a reception to follow at Medieval Times restaurant. The peasants respond by saying "Yock-mallah!" in unison, and listlessly waving some giant candy canes. Then the competitors are off and running. Amazingly, Kurt makes it across the rope bridge without getting shot by an arrow, and enters "The Village of the Damned," a planned community for the criminally insane. No one has ever escaped alive from this blood-soaked bedlam, and it is soon apparent why. In short order, Kurt is attacked by a man with a sickle, beaten to a pulp by a pack of Italian grandmothers, and mooned. Finally, the entire populace converges on Kurt, shrieking and waving various farm implements as they surround him in the village square. Fortunately, next to the communal well is the communal pommel horse. Leaping onto it, Kurt manages to kill the axe-wielding maniacs with a quick and deadly series of Magyar and Sivado cross-travel variations. The surviving villagers give Kurt a 9.2. The crazed peasants chase Kurt into a blind alley, forcing him to climb a sheer wall, but he’s too much of a pussy to reach the top. Surprisingly, one of the Himalayan ninjas reaches down and pulls Kurt to safety. He then peels off the black mask and reveals . . . Kurt’s dad! It turns out that he wasn’t killed in the fall, just maimed. Their tearful reunion is interrupted when Sheepskin shoots Kurt’s dad with an arrow again. Springing into action, Kurt heroically jumps on a horse and rides away. Sheepskin catches up to our fleeing hero and gives him a well-deserved thrashing. But Kurt cleverly goes into "rope-a-dope," outlasting his opponent until they get to the page in the script where it says he wins. Sheepskin takes a dive, and Kurt proudly rides back into town with Dad, who’s been maimed some more, but is otherwise fine. Now, at last, everyone knows the truth: Sheepskin is a traitor, and Kurt’s dad is Rasputin. Oh, and Kurt won The Game, all right. But if you ask me, he won ugly. ********** Next time, Doug will bring you "Lessons in Manliness 2: Independence," and we will bring you Megaforce. Until then, try not to be wimpy. 3:55:04 AM |
Lessons in Manliness, by Doug GilesDoug is devoting the next three columns to rescuing poor, persecuted manly men from "TV and Hollywood," which are trying to turn them into "androgynous pomosexuals." Doug gives us his credentials as a teacher of all things masculine:
It was a manly time Doug spent in the woods on his anniversary, with other manly men for company -- and they enjoyed many classical manly activities, none of them at all meterosexual. So, you can trust Doug when he explains that the "basic elements of the masculine spirit," as taught by Homer, Abraham, Paul and Gomer Pyle (do you notice any significant omissions here?), are:
This week's lesson is on competition. Here's a story which illustrates why God wants men to be in competition with each other:
See, if the bucks hadn't been in competition with each other for the doe, they could have joined forces and killed Doug! And it works the same way with human males -- which is apparently why God wants them to be competitive, possibly because He doesn't want them plotting a way to get to Him. (As we may have mentioned before, Doug's theology is not exactly orthodox.) Anyway, the lesson to be learned from Frick and Frack is: while you guys are fighting over some babe named Bambi, an older, richer guy will steal her away from you -- and then Doug will kill him.
Men don't fight to protect the women and kids because they are particularly fond of them -- no, they do it to keep the other males from appropriating their goods. And, once again, this is how God wants it.
Doug, it's all well and good to say that male competition breeds better people, but as the Bible proclaims, "Be ye doers of the word." So, if you want to impress God, you should start implementing this teaching at the ClashChurch. You know, have a fight to the death every week in the hotel parking lot, with the winner getting to breed right there with one of the fair church ladies. It would probably cause Dirty Harry to join your congregation, which I know is one of your goals.
Heh heh heh -- he said poo-poo and Charmin!
This ClashPoint was brought to you by George Bush, who is working to restore traditional society by creating opportunities for fellows who like to fight; and by today's Army, which is happy to announce that due to, um, attrition, they have some openings for those kinds of guys right now. 3:32:06 AM |
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