The World O' Crap Archive

Welcome to the Collected World O' Crap, a comprehensive library of posts from the original Salon Blog, and our successor site, world-o-crap.com (2006 to 2010).

Current posts can be found here.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

HA! You Can’t Pants Me In Front Of The Whole School, Cuz I Beat You To It!

William Kristol crept onto the Op-Ed pages of the Washington Post on Sunday and did the Numa Numa Dance in his Fruit of the Looms for the benefit of the Beltway’s tastemakers and trendsetters:
I suppose I’ll merely expose myself to harmless ridicule if I make the following assertion: George W. Bush‘s presidency will probably be a successful one.
 ”Further, I suppose I’ll be subjected to a certain degree of incredulous snickering if I pull down my pants in front of the cheerleaders and assert that I am equipped with a thick, corrugated, tubetacular man-handle that sways gently from knee to knee like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.”
Let’s step back from the unnecessary mistakes and the self-inflicted wounds that have characterized the Bush administration.
“Sure, George-Bob wore a loose, filmy negligee when he was drivin’ the thresher, and then when we pried him and his leg outta there, he put on a 12-foot long Isadora Duncan scarf and started runnin’ the wood-chipper, but I don’t think it’s fair to bring that stuff up when we consider his qualifications to operate power machinery.”
 Let’s look at the broad forest rather than the often unlovely trees. What do we see? First, no second terrorist attack on U.S. soil — not something we could have taken for granted.
Well, unless you count the weaponized anthrax that killed five Americans, hospitalized 17 others, caused the evacuation of Federal buildings and the virtual paralysis of the Postal Service.  But that mostly affected journalists, Democrats, and civil servants so it doesn’t really count.
 Second, a strong economy — also something that wasn’t inevitable.
Unless you were a major contributor to the Bush campaign or the Republican party, then you were pretty much guaranteed the chance to go on a madcap, My Man Godfrey-like scavanger hunt through the U.S. treasury.  And for the record, Bill, while the words “Bush Boom” may go down in history, I doubt it’ll be as a synonym for increased disposable income.
And third, and most important, a war in Iraq that has been very difficult, but where — despite some confusion engendered by an almost meaningless “benchmark” report last week — we now seem to be on course to a successful outcome.
And how do we measure success?  Well, not by the benchmarks the president agreed to use as a metric, because neither we nor the Iraqis met any of those benchmarks, or even made any progress at all, and it’s impossible to measure nothing!  So HA!  Get yourself out of that logical cleft-stick, defeatocrats!
The economy first: After the bursting of the dot-com bubble, followed by the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, we’ve had more than five years of steady growth, low unemployment and a stock market recovery. Did this just happen? No. Bush pushed through the tax cuts of 2001 and especially 2003 by arguing that they would produce growth. His opponents predicted dire consequences. But the president was overwhelmingly right. Even the budget deficit, the most universally criticized consequence of the tax cuts, is coming down and is lower than it was when the 2003 supply-side tax cuts were passed.
“Also, advanced kerning analysis has proved that the Cottingley Fairies were real!”
Elsie and Frances were proved overwhelmingly right.
Bush has also (on the whole) resisted domestic protectionist pressures (remember the Democratic presidential candidates in 2004 complaining about outsourcing?)
“Remember when we actually thought that shipping jobs overseas might actually be a bad thing?  Before we realized how helpful it was at fighting wage growth and efforts to unionize?  Kinda makes you giggle now.  It’s like when our dads all thought flouridation of the water would lead to widespread erectile dysfunction and communism in their children.  Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not a communist.”
Meanwhile, 2005-06 saw the confirmation of two Supreme Court nominees, John G. Roberts Jr. and Samuel A. Alito Jr. Your judgment of these two appointments will depend on your general view of the courts and the Constitution. But even if you’re a judicial progressive, you have to admit that Roberts and Alito are impressive judges (well, you don’t have to admit it — but deep down, you know it).
“Your lips say no, but your eyes say yes.”
What about terrorism? Apart from Iraq, there has been less of it, here and abroad, than many experts predicted on Sept. 12, 2001.
Sure, it’s has increased every year of the Bush presidency, but I’m sure that on Sept. 12, 2001, certain experts panicked and predicted that by 2007 terrorism would become the dominant form of social interaction among American youth, with hijackings and suicide bombings replacing text messaging and speed dating.
So Bush and Vice President Cheney probably are doing some important things right.
Like eating Quaker Oats oatmeal for breakfast.  That’s the right thing to do.

The war in Afghanistan has gone reasonably well.
Exactly!  Say you’re a football team, and you really kicked ass in the first half, racking up a comfortable lead while your defense stopped the opposition cold.  There’s no real reason to return for the second half, is there?  I mean, by that point, what have you got left to prove?  You made your point, it’s time to move on to the next game.  It’s not like the referees can decide you’ve forfeited, or anything.
Western Pakistan, where President Pervez Musharraf‘s deals with the Taliban are apparently creating something like havens for terrorists, is an increasing problem. That’s why our intelligence agencies are worried about a resurgent al-Qaeda — because al-Qaeda may once again have a place where it can plan, organize and train. These Waziristan havens may well have to be dealt with in the near future. I assume Bush will deal with them, using some combination of air strikes and special operations. 
Yes, with our ally Musharraf making deals that allow al-Qaeda to regroup in Waziristan, I assume that Bush will do something about this at sometime in the future and this time not screw it up or get bored and wander off to play with the dog, because the U.S. launching attacks on Pakistani soil would give the politically shaky Musharraf a huge boost of popularity with his own constituents, who are totally not hung up on pride or national sovereignty or any of that shit.

But wait, wait, wait: What about Iraq? It’s Iraq, stupid — you (and 65 percent of your fellow Americans) say — that makes Bush an unsuccessful president.  Not necessarily. First of all, we would have to compare the situation in Iraq now, with all its difficulties and all the administration’s mistakes, with what it would be if we hadn’t gone in. Saddam Hussein would be alive and in power and, I dare say, victorious…
Over what?  Hemorroids?  Manchester United?  His craving for macaroons?
…with the United States (and the United Nations) by now having backed off sanctions and the no-fly zone.
Really?  Clinton managed to keep the sanctions going and the no-fly zone in place, all Bush had to do was maintain the status quo.  So is Bill implying that Bush is such a consummate bumbler that he can’t even successfully do nothing?
He might well have restarted his nuclear program, and his connections with al-Qaeda and other terrorist groups would be intact or revived and even strengthened.
Okay, he didn’t have any connections with al-Qaeda, but if we hadn’t invaded Iraq and killed him, he would have had lots of free time on his hands and maybe his wife would have nagged him enough that he finally would have gotten around to those projects he’d been putting off, like reseeding the lawn, and painting the kitchen cabinets, and building an atom bomb.
Still, that’s speculative, and the losses and costs of the war are real. Bush is a war president, and war presidents are judged by whether they win or lose their war.
Or just suddenly start a war because Daddy’s the one who got to sleep in Mommy’s bed every night.
So to be a successful president, Bush has to win in Iraq.
Which kinda brings us back to why the cheerleaders are laughing at your penis, Bill.
Which I now think we can. Indeed, I think we will
I’ll go even farther, I think we have.  And we should pack up and get home tout suite before we miss the party and walk in to find the joint empty except for some 4-F wolf in a zoot suit knocking back the last of the Blatz and pitching woo at our girl.

In late 2006, I didn’t think we would win, as Bush stuck with the failed Rumsfeld-Abizaid-Casey strategy of “standing down” as the Iraqis were able to “stand up,” based on the mistaken theory that if we had a “small footprint” in Iraq, we’d be more successful.
“But I continued lying on national TV about how it was gonna work anyway.”
We are routing al-Qaeda in Iraq,
Principally by declaring that anybody we shoot –Sunni, Shiite, small child — is a member of al-Qaeda in Iraq.  Neat, huh?  It’s not as easy to pull off in friendly fire cases, but we’re working on that.
…we are beginning to curb the Iranian-backed sectarian Shiite militias
Okay, we’re not, but the good news is they’re really not all that important, since a lot of the guys who are killing American troops are being bused in from our good friend Saudi Arabia.
…and we are increasingly able to protect more of the Iraqi population
…from the hazards of overcrowding.  It’s sort of like being an American bison in 1890.  Where once you were packed horn to horn as you thundered across the plain, now you can really stretch out and enjoy the elbow room.
If we sustain the surge for a year and continue to train Iraqi troops effectively, we can probably begin to draw down in mid- to late 2008.
“By which I mean, by then the country will have elected some Democrat who ran on a promise to withdraw from Iraq, so the important thing is to keep the war going full blast right up until 11:59 AM on January 20, 2009.  After which, I’ll just have to lock myself in the bathroom and do what I can with my G.I. Joe’s kung fu grip.”
Bush has the good fortune of having finally found his Ulysses S. Grant, or his Creighton Abrams, in Gen. David H. Petraeus.
Just curious, but when did this guy Petraeus becoming the second coming of Cincinnatus?

Following through to secure the victory in Iraq and to extend its benefits to neighboring countries will be the task of the next president. And that brings us to Bush’s final test.  The truly successful American presidents tend to find vindication in, and guarantee an extension of their policies through, the election of a successor from their own party. Can Bush hand the presidency off to a Republican who will (broadly) continue along the path of his post-9/11 foreign policy, nominate judges who solidify a Roberts-Alito court, make his tax cuts permanent and the like?
Sure.
It may sound counterintuitive, but has Bill ever been wrong before?  Not to hear him tell it, and since he’s never admitted to being wrong (and who but a sociopath would never admit to ever being wrong?)  it must be true.

What it comes down to is this: If Petraeus succeeds in Iraq, and a Republican wins in 2008, Bush will be viewed as a successful president.
I like the odds. 
Yeah, okay.  But FYI, Bill Bennett is betting that you won’t cover the spread.


35 Responses to “HA! You Can’t Pants Me In Front Of The Whole School, Cuz I Beat You To It!”


A masterpiece, I tell you. I just posted the first line and called it ‘Let the Harmless Ridicule Begin!’
Petraeus as Grant? Ulysses Grant won a war, then went on to preside over one of the most corrupt, graft-riddled, carpetbagger-friendly administrations Washington ever saw. If Petraeus really is Grant, we know what to expect from Reconstruction in Iraq.
trashfire, you should read what historians now say. let’s face it grant was the one who pushed reconstruction. let’s face it those who wrote history about the war and its after-math, were for the most part southern sympathizers.
Or just suddenly start a war because Daddy’s the one who got to sleep in Mommy’s bed every night.
Creepiest. Presidency. Ever.
I kinda dug the bison thing, btw.
okay, I want whatever drug he’s on — obviously it’s more potent than the the acid I last had in 1973!
“Let’s step back from the unnecessary mistakes and self-inflicted wounds that have characterized the Bush administration.”
Let’s see, standing in the driveway of my home in Latham, NY, if I step back from all that, where will I be standing? The middle of the Atlantic Ocean, maybe?
Why didn’t he just say “The Bush presidency has been a success for Cheney & friends, who have gotten even filthier-rich than they already were, and turned the U.S. into a facist Daddy-state”. Bleah!
Bush has the good fortune of having finally found his Ulysses S. Grant
or at least his liquor cabinet
But then, this is the guy I watched twice tell callers to C-SPAN that he was too young to go to Vietnam (the second time he put it as “too young to be drafted for Vietnam”), this, despite the fact that he’s almost precisely one year older than I am and I was in the last draft class of the Vietnam War. I mean, if I guy can’t keep his own (easily checkable) history straight, whaddya expect?
I have to admit to a personal fondness for that bit about the deficit being lower than 2003, since we’ve added $1.4 trillion in debt since then, and since I distinctly remember cries of “they haven’t reduced the deficit, they’ve just reduced the rate of increase” coming from the general direction of the Weakly Standard back when Clinton/Gore were churning out budget surpluses.
No better time than now to be a rich white boy.
The rest of y’all get down to preacher Pat’s 700 Club Chapel, your suffering has been brought on by your sinful behavior and you need cleansing.
Please remember to tithe and read carefully our helpful voting brochure, located in the pew behind the hymnal.
Praise the lord and cleanse my soul with servile drudgery to my deservingly prosperous masters!
The pew isn’t behind the hymnal, the hymnals ain’t that big.
Great piece, as usual!!Now I’m off to WaPo to see what the commentariat there has to say.
240+ pages of comments @WaPo, I only got through the first 25, there were 4 or 5 posts total in favor, two of which were from the same toad, one of which was along the lines of: “Boy, lots of left wing haters out tonight.” Brilliant.
But did find a link to HuffPo, where the Lady of the Blog did some investigative eavesdropping on Billy the K. on the Amtrak shuttle:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/arianna-huffington/bill-kristol-on-the-tra_b_56394.html
Kristol meth – the drug that you have to be on for these blatherings to make sense
preznit giv me turkee: Good One!
Not only are his statements stupid lies, but he writes in a manner similar to the coy-semi-hysterical writers of, say vogue, or other women’s magazines. That’s really offensive.
First, no second terrorist attack on U.S. soil — not something we could have taken for granted.
So then that July 4th bombing of an abortion clinic in Texas…you know, the one where they drilled a hole in the ceiling and dropped explosives…that was, what, a fireworks display?
Kristol meth – the drug that you have to be on for these blatherings to make sense
Left by Arakasi
*polite applause*
Oh, well played!
*sipping martini*
That settles it: I’m naming my own, personal rectal opening my “Billy Bum.”
“Or just suddenly start a war because Daddy’s the one who got to sleep in Mommy’s bed every night.”
Scott, I am NEVER going to forgive you for THAT image!!!!!! They will never manufacture enough bleach to get that one outta my head.
“Bush has the good fortune of having finally found his Ulysses S. Grant”
“or at least his liquor cabinet” — preznit
PRICELESS!!!
Seriously — what kind of drug is Kristol on, and can we steal the patent on this shit? I don’t want any for myself, but I can definitely see the potential for selective dosing with this brain eraser…
I’m still trying to rid myself of the mental image of George in a “loose, filmy negligee”, Annti.
Not only are his statements stupid lies, but he writes in a manner similar to the coy-semi-hysterical writers of, say vogue, or other women’s magazines. That’s really offensive.
I would actually say more like a teen magazine, like Young Miss: “Roberts and Alito are really, really cute (deep down, you know it!).”
I’m late to teh party–any jokes left?
[...crickets...]
No, huh? Well, lemme look at these empties to see if anyone brought anything good.
Well, first of all…
“Sure, George-Bob wore a loose, filmy negligee when he was drivin’ the thresher, and then when we pried him and his leg outta there, he put on a 12-foot long Isadora Duncan scarf and started runnin’ the wood-chipper, but I don’t think it’s fair to bring that stuff up when we consider his qualifications to operate power machinery.”
…scott, of course. There was a lot of things in there that were “keepers,” but I’m lazy, so I just grabbed teh first one. Oh, and the mention of teh Cottingley Faries: very Holmesian of you I must say!
If Petraeus really is Grant, we know what to expect from Reconstruction in Iraq.
Well said, trashfire!
okay, I want whatever drug he’s on — obviously it’s more potent than the the acid I last had in 1973!
Donna asks…
Kristol meth – the drug that you have to be on for these blatherings to make sense
…and is answered by Arakasi. Well played, Mam. Or Sir! Or.. urm… whatevah you iz!
or at least his liquor cabinet
preznit giv me turkee–so funny in so few words!
I have to admit to a personal fondness for that bit about the deficit being lower than 2003[...]
Doghouse, providing not one, but two factoids to combat the tsunami of idiocy and lies issuing forth from Kristol’s desiccated lips. More like this, please.
And others, too.
Yeah, I know that’s a cop-out, but I said I was lazy! Besides, I’ve been suffering from a particularly painful pulled muscle in my lower back (yes, Annti, I know your back’s worse!), and it’s driving me nuts! Thank the non-existant sky fairy for Salonpas HOT. L8rz!
Oh, and Mark S., you’re totally right! Parts of that crap read exactly like headlines from “Tiger Beat”… not that I’d know what those were like. *ahem*
Marq, when in the fuck did it turn into a “who’s more cripple’ contest?
I’ve had to listen, for the past WEEK, after my so-called “parents” moved the guy who MOLESTED ME FOR TWELVE FUCKING YEARS into my NANNIE’S HOUSE — I’ve had to listen to them cooing and whimpering EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DETAIL ABOUT *HIS* (their blessed and oft-worshiped Son King, their Louis XIV, if you will) fucking back surgery/injury from a car wreck FOUR FUCKING MONTHS AGO, that’s “suddenly” a fucking “emergency,” and they have been CAMPED-OUT IN HIS FUCKING HOSPITAL ROOM THAT ENTIRE FUCKING TIME, with ME as the slave-girl to take care of THEIR dogs while THEY attend to licking his ass clean every other breath.
Even the one niece that has always been “loyal” to me, is in on it. Oh, but he’s in SUCH danger from the upcoming surgery, oh, it’s EVER so much more important than the TWO SPINE SURGERIES that I had, when NOT ONE FUCKING RELATIVE AT ***ALL*** came to visit ME in the hospital, and only THEY (my alleged “parents”) and Tater (my dead nephew, abandoned by his “grandparents” AND both of his cracked-out “parents”) came to see me after I got HOME from three fun-filled days at Charity Hospital.
When I had my last spine surgery (the more botched of the two, from which I will have to have ANOTHER surgery, by the end of this year) on my birthday last year, guess who came to sit/camp-out in MY hospital room?
No-fucking-body. THEY (the alleged “parents” who pimped me out to Louis XIV) came by for about 20 minutes a day, Oldest Niece came by ONCE (though she did stick around for the surgery), and NOT A ONE OF THE OTHER UNGRATEFUL BITCHES THAT CALL THEMSELVES MY NIECES EVER **ONCE** CAME TO SEE ME, either in-hospital or when I got back here to L’Hotel du Fucktards. I’ve bent over backwards and spent damned near every dime I’ve ever had on these kids, and where are they now?
Paying court to Louis XIV in his hospital room. HE gets to reap the rewards of a huge lawsuit against that very hospital, for sending him home the night of the fucking car wreck (that was probably his fault) with the fucked-up back. I got three fucking years on narcotic painkillers (the last 3 years of my grandmother’s life) while I had to repeatedly BEG the cocksuckers at Charity Hospital to either FIX MY FUCKING BROKEN BACK OR PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY, and another 6 years of surgery and torment and more fucked-up hardware, no career, no life, no nothing, a lost house, and not even a decent “settlement” from the scumbag antichrist lowlife piece-of-shit excuse for a “lawyer” who sent me to a fucking CHIROPRACTOR IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE, WHO RELEASED ME KNOWING THAT I HAD A BROKEN BONE IN MY BACK BUT NOT TELLING **ME** — I got 2 grand and a lifetime of torture and ineptitude and malfeasance and malpractice because I’m a fucking CHARITY CASE ON MEDICARE, and the evil-prick piece-of-shit “legal corporation” got TEN GRAND.
So, see? We don’t have to have pissing contests about back injuries, Marq. I spend every day of my life wishing for death, not just to escape the physical agony and emotional waterboarding from these motherfuckers, but because I know that my back will NEVER be whole again, and that I’ll never get to dance again, make road trips again, or have a fucking LIFE again, and there’s NOBODY THAT I CAN FUCKING SUE TO GET A FUCKING DIME OFF OF ANY OF IT.
The only good thing that I can say today is that I finally got to meet my month-old grandniece, but only because my other niece, Oldest Niece’s batshit younger sister, was COMING UP HERE TO PAY COURT TO LOUIS XIV. Otherwise, I probably would never have known if she’d gotten the cash that I sent, since the bitch couldn’t even return a fucking phone call so that I could BUY the baby something that she NEEDED.
So, do 20 minutes of ice, 20 minutes of heat, on and off again, twice an hour, then rest 20 minutes, and that should help the muscles unclench. And get some fucking flexerils and/or valiums from your doctor.
But let’s not play like we’re playing pissing contests, k? I’ve got a lot worse shit on my mind right now.
Oh, and btw, since that one is AWAITING MODERATION, do you remember, Marq, back in January of 2005, when I had to go back to Charity for my mutilated-jaw TMJ surgery? ‘Cause if not, I’d be thrilled to refresh your memory as to how they STOLE ALL OF MY CLOTHES, PURSE, I.D., CIGARETTES, MONEY, ETC., AND DESERTED ME DOWN THERE FOR THREE FUCKING DAYS WITH NOT EVEN A CHANGE OF FUCKING UNDERWEAR — whilst they were threatening to have me INCARCERATED IN A STATE MENTAL HOSPITAL FOR HAVING ***JAW SURGERY***, just to get me the fuck out of THEIR fucking house.
Annti-
Would it make you feel any better at all if I said WE’D miss you if you were gone? Don’t wish for death (not your own, anyway.)
Bush has the good fortune of having finally found his Ulysses S. Grant, or his Creighton Abrams, in Gen. David H. Petraeus.
Ah, yes. Creighton Abrams. Off to Wikipedia!
“Creighton Williams Abrams Jr. (September 15, 1914 – September 4, 1974) was a United States Army general who commanded military operations in the Vietnam War from 1968-72.”
Hmm. So he didn’t exactly have what you might call an unblemished record of military triumph, then, this Abrams fellow. Not looking good for Petraeus…
Yes, dear. Thank you, Bill.
Doesn’t alleviate the suffering, but at least lets me know that somebody is listening, which is deeply appreciated.
Cripes, Annti, I fucking *said* I knew your back is worse! Mine was-and IS-making me miserable, and since it’s a muscle-pull, at unexpected moments, but I SAID I KNEW YOURS IS WORSE!! Reading comprehension, much? I was *actively* attempting to head-off offending you. O quote me from above:
(yes, Annti, I know your back’s worse!)
How fucking unclear is *that*? I’m sorry your back is so fucked up, and that your health is fucked up, and that your fucking life is so fucked up, but don’t take it out on me. I haven’t gone into any detail on the numerous health-related issues wrong with me, but I’m pretty confident that I can match yours. Probably even surpass them, though there’s a lot of apples and oranges sorts of issues in there. Cheap ferinstance: how many eyes you got? Probably more than me. And that’s a throwaway. That’s nothing.
Look, I’m sorry if I’m coming off as a surly bitch, but when someone rakes me over the coals when I in *no way* deserve it, I don’t much appreciate it. Life has done that enough already.
And, yeah, yeah, I’m not even holding myself up as the person life has handed the biggest shit sandwich. There’s *plenty* of us out here. Life sucks.
‘Cause if not, I’d be thrilled to refresh your memory as to how they STOLE ALL OF MY CLOTHES, PURSE, I.D., CIGARETTES, MONEY, ETC., AND DESERTED ME DOWN THERE FOR THREE FUCKING DAYS WITH NOT EVEN A CHANGE OF FUCKING UNDERWEAR
Left by Anntichrist S. Coulter

Wow. That sounds like a good Friday night in a bar to me…
Sorry, Annti, someone had to lighten the mood.
Like I said, Marq, it’s not a pissing contest. If I had a dick (which, believe it or not, I don’t, nor do I desire one), mine would probably be bigger, but hideously malformed, like Hedgehog Ron Jeremy’s.
Can’t you just tell when I’m blowing off steam? Jeeeeebus. If I was “attacking” YOU, I’d have been aiming AT YOU, dear. Talk about your reading comprehension. Sorry to hear about the eyeball, though — I supposed that skull-fucking jokes would be out of line?
And Actor, you have GOT to show me where those bars are… I’ve been incarcerated by poverty for far too long, and haven’t been in a decent bar since I left NOLA, though I did find one half-assedly decent bar in Miami Beach, it ’tweren’t up to standards by a long shot.
Blowin’ off steam? Me, too! All week I’ve been in more paon than usual, have been awake for 36 – 48hr. periods, and have been sober and crabby in general. And, now I’m back in teh hospital. Hooray for me! [sitting in my cale-bed, feeling sorry for myself. did I mention that I hate hospitals?]
So I’ll take that as a “no” on the skull-fucking jokes? Or maybe just a “not now”?
Why in the FUCK have you been anywhere even remotely APPROACHING “SOBER”?!?!?!??!?!?!?!
Jeeezus fucking christ on a hard-tack cracker with as side of KEROSENE, MAN!!!!!!!!!!
You can’t fucking LIVE LIKE THAT!!!
Well, if you’re gonna be in the fucking hospital again, you might as well make it WORTH IT — RING THAT FUCKING NURSE’S BELL UNTIL THOSE BITCHES BRING IN THE MORPHINE BY THE BUCKETS JUST TO SHUT YOU THE FUCK UP, and you can sleep through whatever in the hell comes neck, by damn!!!
Fuck, Porter Waggoner was EMBALMED about 15 years ago, and he’s on fucking LETTERMAN tonight!!! You have GOT to get off of this loop-tape from Satan’s 8-track rec room, dammit! Nobody should have to live like this, dude, it’s just fucking INHUMAN.
You’re paying for this joyride, GET THE BEST YOU FUCKING CAN OUT OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And report back her directly, so that I can give you more tips on how to cull the good nurses/doctors from the shitty ones, and how to wreak vengeance upon ALLLL their unworthy heads! You can be patient and drive them batshit one little adjustment/bitch at a time (gaslight the bitches), or you can do what I do and go at ‘em FULL-BORE, WITH BOTH FUCKING FEET AND A LIT CIGARETTE!!!
And you’d damned well better be reporting back here soon. DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE.
I’ve found in the past that the nurses that are the best/most likely to dish out teh opiates are the ICU nurses. Unfortunately, In ICU, they tend to attach the most lines/sensors/blood pressure cuffs/IVs/heart monitors/etc. to the point that you can’t get out of bed to access teh toilet (or whatevah). Of course, if you’re on enough opiates, you don’t goddamned care!

Quienes Mas Macho?

Doghouse Riley, that’s who.  One rarely gets the chance to watch an SUV-driving, sunshine patriot from the heartland whipped to the pink, quivering consistency of a blancmange with his own bumpersticker, and believe me, it’s a spectacle not to be missed.


9 Responses to “Quienes Mas Macho?”

*proudly beaming* That’s the guy I’m stalking!
(Admittedly in a distinctly lax, low-impact, entirely symbolic sort of way.)
Anntichrist S. Coulter said…
:::bows in awe of the linguistic and historical skills of one badass intellectual:::
Next time, stick around, deliver said beautiful sermon in person, and send us the video.
12:07 AM EDT
…and if you can afford to stick multiple meaningless symbolic gestures of “support” on the back of your SUV and still pay for gas, thank a chinese factory worker!
Damn, a man who knows the history/evolution of language is just SO damn sexy!
That was truly a thing of beauty.
*Swoon.” The ladies all agree! Oh, Doghouse, you are gorgeous. I say that in a way that admires your mind (especially since we’ve never met), and that endangers neither of our marriages. Because, you know, we’re not Republicans. We have to say those things, or be roasted on a spit.
Actually, the title should be spelled “Quien es mas macho?”
Yes, yes, a Spanish-speaking Spelling Taliban! (on a weak day, it seems… I didn’t mentioned the lack of accent marks and opening question mark… oops! I did it again! :)
Rebuscado, thanks for pointing that out. It was bothering me, but I’d decided not to be anal for a day, especially since I don’t know how to put accents and tildes and upside-down punctuation on this computer.
Cripes! Isn’t a single man-like critter gonna drop a comment in this thread?!?
[looks around teh room... looks at self...]
Nope. Don’t seem like.

Friday Beast Blogging — The Cat In The Beard Edition

On the advice of their agents, Riley and Moondoggie agree to appear in public together, sparking rumors and allowing the paparazzi an unprecedented opportunity to get them both in the same shot.

Developing…


10 Responses to “Friday Beast Blogging — The Cat In The Beard Edition”



Such gorgeous, lucky chirrens. Although, judging from those expressions/body language, they seem to be auditioning for the feline production of “The Departed.” Riley would make a wonderful Frank Costello, but I’m torn about Moondoggie… Don’t know if he should be DiCaprio or Damon.
BTW, there’s a gorgeous, 4-year-old, utterly housebroken, sweet pure-white boy cat (neutered) with gorgeous greenish-yellow eyes, that was abandoned at my vet’s office today, who needs a new home. As soon as the vet can e-mail me the digital photo, I’m going to post him on my blog and send it to everyone that I know. His owner acquired him at some point after her first cat, and her first cat could NOT get along with “Winter” (original, I know, for a white cat) and was going to have him put down, but thankfully, Dr. Liz offered to keep him until we could find a home for him.
If y’all know anyone who needs/wants a lovely youngish male kitty who’s got all of his shots and has a lot of love to give, please send ‘em my way!
Will they be signing the production deal, is what I want to know.
They look absolutely gorgeous.
Annti, you minx! Temptress! How many human males can claim to have all their shots and lots of love to give… as well as being non-allergy-provoking?
Well, I made my choice many years ago between cats and the manly Mr. Biscuitbarrel. Since I can’t adopt your little one, you will be pleased to know that Mr. B meets the criteria above and also has a lovely glossy coat, although not white. It must be all of those Omega-3 fish oils I feed him.
Ahhhhh, but Mrs. TBB — if I could give this gorgeous boy a home, I’d have already done it, but alas, since I live in L’Hotel du Fucktards, I cannot. Breaks my heart to see some stupid excuse for a “human” totally abandon a perfectly good and affectionate animal, and makes me want to thin the bipedal herd.
If y’all know of ANYONE who might want this cat, anywhere, please have them holler at me, ’cause this boy needs love.
As soon as I can get my vet to e-mail me the digital picture of him (while she’s planning her own wedding), I’m going to put him right up there on the MOB front page, but in the meantime, if y’all could pass the good word about a really good cat, I’d really appreciate it!!! My vet is a wonderful woman, but she can’t board him indefinitely, and it’s not fair to any critter to be kept in a vet’s kennel for extended periods of time. He can’t even get out and stretch his legs, the poor boy, ’cause of all of the dogs in the office.
Will do. He sounds like a sweetheart.
Annti, please let me know when you have a good shot. I’m tempted to say I want him, but my five would eat me alive (six, including the outside feral, but at least he can’t open the door to get in). But I can publicize Winter’s plight and aggressively campaign on his behalf. Thanks, tpc
Scott, didn’t Riley originally have plans to eviscerate Moondoggie? Seems like that dirty fuckin’ hippie has really turned Riley around. Keep the incriminating picture someplace she can see it.
PoliticalCat — I left a comment over to your blog about the pix — but couldn’t find an e-mail. Holler at me over to my place ( http://www.anntichristscoulter.blogspot.com/ ) or so forth.
I’ve had one nibble from Pennsylvania about finding a home for “Winter” (and hopefully a better name for him, too!), but I have NO idea how to find out how to SHIP A LIVE CAT cross-country, or who even DOES that — anybody around here know how to do that?
Winter’s still on the market, if anybody wants to call dibs!!!
(Seriously.)

If You Must Smoke, Please Don’t Pole Smoke

I was a bit disappointed in the productivity of the right wing blogosphere today. Sure, it’s summertime, when output tends to fall as humidity and blood-alcohol levels rise, but still, the usual roaring cataract of crazy has been choked off to a thin, venereal discharge of disgruntlement, and I just don’t know what to do with myself. In desperation, I descended the creaking cellar steps to check out WorldNetDaily, and behind the old bundles of Highlights, the broken Nordic-Track, and the jars of watermelon rind pickles, I discovered a brand new (or at least, new to me) wingnut evolving in the primordial puddle beneath the dripping water heater.

Meet Hank Donald. No, wait. Donald Hank. Well, either way, he’s not letting the summer doldrums stop him from bringing the stupid, as he demonstrates in a little thing he likes to call, Will Ex-Gays Bring Down “Big Sodomy”?
Remember how cool smoking was? If you’re 45 or older, you do.
Whatever happened to that politically correct, cool, suave, debonair habit that was all the rage among college students, profs, teachers, Hollywood actors, big business and just about everyone purporting to have “intellect”?
Well, Donald (or Hank), I not only remember smoking, I remember smoking myself.  Unfiltered Chesterfields, which even my three-pack-a-day Dad derided as suicidal “coffin nails.”  I just don’t remember feeling any sort of social pressure to ”purport to have ‘intellect’” whenever I approached the cigarette machine by the toilets.
In a nutshell, some scientists at the National Institutes of Health got together in the ’60s, ’70s and later and did some pioneering studies that proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that this cool habit could kill you.
I’m glad to see that you never felt the need to purport to have “intellect,” since outside the nutshell, links between smoking and disease were being demonstrated as early as 1938, and three fairly conclusive studies were published in 1950, including one by Ernst L. Wynder and Evarts A Graham, published in the Journal of American Medicine which showed that 96.5% of lung cancer patients smoked.   Meanwhile, in 1957, “Surgeon General Leroy E. Burney declared it the official position of the U.S. Public Health Service that the evidence pointed to a causal relationship between smoking and lung cancer.”
Today, they’re at it again. Only it isn’t smoking. That’s a dead issue, thanks to science and lawyers.
The activists then were Big Tobacco, supported by Hollywood, the advertising industry, the media and academe. Even politicians, like FDR, smoked and helped sell the image.
I don’t recall President Roosevelt actually doing any paid advertising for the tobacco industry.  Although I do remember this one:

Anyway, you were saying…?
Now “alternative” sexual lifestyles are all the rage. They, too, are killing people. And again, it’s the “intellectual” cool, liberal, worldly, suave thing to do.
“I’m tellin’ ya, pal, all the big brains are puttin’ their dough into homosexuality.  If you’re smart, you’ll dump that skirt you’re squiring around town and buy yourself a monocle and a dickey while you can still get in on the ground floor.”
The usual suspects are involved. All the big name colleges have special programs for promoting “alternative” sex. Businesses promote the Gay Olympics. Politicians like Barney Frank think they can foist alternative sex on people through their power positions.
Hank was a little vague here, so I checked the Kama Sutra…Apparently, the top “power positions” involve a patent leather hammock and a sub-committee chairmanship.  Sounds hot.
Hollywood uses its influence to turn the Marlboro Man into a spokesman for today’s popular deadly activity, and major companies like Ford contribute funds from the shareholders’ meager coffers to promote same-sex marriage. It’s just like the bad old days of Big Tobacco, and the Grim Reaper is having a gay old time.
Meaning, evidently, that Death is giving Fred Flintstone a reach-around.
Even school boards, like that in Montgomery County, Md., are urging young students to accept this deadly habit and plying them with the message that anyone who perceives himself/herself as being of a certain sexual orientation is in fact stuck with that orientation and cannot escape. That’s tantamount to a group of educators telling smokers that they were born to smoke, can’t quit and shouldn’t even try.
“I guess I always knew.  I remember, when I was five years old, realizing that I was somehow different.  None of the other kids in kindergarten had a pack of Luckies rolled up in the sleeve of their Garanimals.  Nobody elses’ fingerpaintings seemed to have nicotine stains.  Nobody else set off the school fire alarm when they dropped off during naptime with a lit Pall Mall in their chubby little hand.”
Of course, the promulgation of knowledge and data concerning the link between alternative sex and disease is hampered by the bullying tactics of the elite.
Eustace Tilley pushed Donald into a mud puddle and stole the Ding Dong from his lunchbox.
Thus, only a few facts are known at all to some of the public (such as the results of a study in Scandinavia showing that men in same-sex marriages die 24 years earlier than their counterparts in the general population), and these facts aren’t mainstream
…or even real.
So what will turn this movement around? Again, as in the case of smoking, I believe it will be the victims themselves. As soon as they smell the money.
After all, the biggest losers aren’t the Christian right or grass-roots Americans, who have voted overwhelmingly against “alternative” definitions of marriage. The biggest losers are those who gaily fling themselves into the arms of the deadly beast that devours them whole.
So gay men can sue R.J. Reynolds for manipulating the nicotine content of semen?  Cool!  By the way, anyone here prefer to get partially devoured by the deadly beast?  I mean, that sounds kind of insulting, doesn’t it, like you’re not worth devouring whole, and after all, it’s the deadly beast, right?  It’s not the Beast Who Maims Then Has To Unbuckle His Pants And Fall Asleep In Front Of The Game Because He Snacked Between Meals, right?
Note the remarkable parallels with the smoking craze: In both cases, the promoters of the respective dangerous habits had been or are withholding evidence that undoubtedly would have led people not to indulge or to quit. Today, public elementary and secondary schools are doing just that, and in addition, some are teaching, as part of “sex education,” methods for carrying out harmful sexual perversions, including “fisting.”
I’m going to confess something shameful, here…something I’ve never told anyone before…
I was held back in fourth grade because I failed Fisting.
The reverse “coming out” of Michael Glatze is the first major chink in the ramparts of Big Sodomy. More major players will be announcing themselves in time, demonstrating the fallacy of “once gay always gay,” the sandy foundation on which the gay agenda is premised.
“Once more unto the breech, dear friends, or close up the wall with our English queers.”
In his column, Glatze doesn’t mince words, calling homosexual sex purely “lust-based,” meaning it can never fully satisfy. 
They he should switch from butt-sex to Chesterfields!  THEY Satisfy!

Hopefully Americans aren’t as slow this time to accept the findings, as we were when all we did was smoke.
Well, if we actually had some findings, that would probably help with the whole acceptance thing.  On the bright side, we don’t have a lavishly endowed industry mouthpiece like the Tobacco Institute to cast doubt on studies proving that homosexuality is just a dirty habit in case anybody ever came up with studies that actually proved that.  What a relief!
If you have a friend or relative who has been persuaded by the media, big business, politicians, university programs, including courses of study, or any person or group to try this deadly lifestyle, and especially if your friend or relative is already suffering from a serious disease contracted as a result of it, talk to him or her at the first opportunity about the very real possibility of starting a class-action lawsuit against the group or groups that persuaded them to enter into the activity that did them in. If you happen to be in a care-giving profession, that is a shoe in the door.
He’s right!  First thing tomorrow, I’m filing a class action suit against Michael Medved’s mustache.
 

53 Responses to “If You Must Smoke, Please Don’t Pole Smoke”

I notice he picked up Tammy Bruce’s habit of using the word “elite” for anyone who supports gay equality. So when do I get my raise?
Wait…does being gay make you rich, or does being rich make you gay? Those who want to stay straight should send me all their money, just to be safe.
“Big Sodomy?” So being gay is a multi billion dollar industry now? I mean, does he actually think “Hollywood” (of course) and “Big Business” are somehow raking in the cash from the homo-agenda or something? Well at least he’s a bit more…creative in his arguments than most of the phobes.
Oh yeah, the Fifties was fucked up. Just thought I’d mention that.
Oh, God, he’s just stumbled across that fucking Paul Cameron travesty, hasn’t he. You know, the ex-gay movement would be more convincing if they could show us a couple of people who’ve been happily ex-gay, by which I do not mean “celibate” or “closeted while married”, for a couple of decades. I’ll be holding my breath over here in the Elite Corner.
And, listen, as soon as the secondhand homo starts giving you cancer, and as soon as cigarettes are banned because of secondhand smoke, we’ll listen. Until then, dummy, only fuck your wife, and all the raging homo in the world won’t hurt you.
Incidentally, Hank or Donald, how does it feel knowing that you agree with raving nutbag Fred Phelps and mass-murderer Osama bin Laden on the subject of American Queer Culture?
If you have a friend or relative who has been persuaded by the media, big business, politicians, university programs, including courses of study, or any person or group to try this deadly lifestyle, and especially if your friend or relative is already suffering from a serious disease contracted as a result of it, talk to him or her at the first opportunity about the very real possibility of starting a class-action lawsuit against the group or groups that persuaded them to enter into the activity that did them in.
Ah, yes, I remember my first time well. This guy approached me. He wasn’t even that hot–he had a beer-gut and several days’ growth of beard. He said, “Hi! I’m Bill with teh FFB (Fags For Buttsex, later changed to teh F4B for pollitically correct reasons). Wanna ride ny boner like a Campfire Girl?” Well, his smegma smelled so enticing that I tried a couple o’ puffs, and I was hooked!
Ever since that day, I’ve been a three-pricks-a-day guy.
OK, seriously. Smoking=gay‽‽‽ That is the stupidest analogy that I have *ever* envountered. Ever. Is this guy fucking retarded? Who, exactly, does he think is raking in all those big “sodomy bucks,” other than pr0n producers? Evidently, the school system. Action alert, teachers! You *so* aren’t being paid your fair share! Strike, my pretties, strike!
Christ, I’ve crapped corn-studded turdlings that were brighter than this bozo. A pox upon him.
Uh, “encountered.” Right.
Isn’t Tammy Bruce a lesbian? She really sneers at anyone who supports gay rights?
I was held back in fourth grade because I failed Fisting.
It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I was just lucky to have some deeply committed teachers who kept pounding it into me until I got it. It was one of the hardest, yet most rewarding, times of my life.
I hope Hank will keep us posted on how this class action lawsuit is coming.
(Banging head on desk.)
Marq already pointed out how idiotic this guy’s analogy is. It’s also incredibly insulting to suggest that some outside influence could persuade you to “turn gay”. I mean, that kinda shit makes me wanna fucking scream, but it’s so the FUCKING OPPOSITE of my own experience (and I’m probably not alone in that.) I don’t remember anybody telling me it was “cool” to be gay. In fact, just about every message I got about, beginning in elementary school (when “gay” was already an all-purpose pejoritive, even they kids didn’t know what it meant)was that being gay was some horrible thing. When I first came out to my mom, in a roundabout fashion, at age 15 (what I said was “I probably won’t even get married, except to another guy”), she let out a shriek of horror and said, “Don’t even think about that-you’d be a disgrace to the family!” (I hadn’t even had sex yet at the time). I pretended I was kidding and didn’t bring it up again. (I never officially “came out’, she just figured it out on her own.)
In other words, every message I got about being gay was negative, and none of that was enough to make my dick get stiff for women. I was just as gay as ever. So this stuff pisses me off like you wouldn’t believe.
As for Michael Glatze’s claim that he’s suddenly straight, just sayin’ it don’t make it so. I’ve never run across an “ex-gay’ whose claims were even remotely credible. This guy’s no exception. Most of these people are incredibly fucked-up to begin with. I can’t even imagine how “reparative therapy” would even work-isn’t just a lot of sitting around and talking? I mean, most of them are religeous based, so I doubt therapy involves holding up a copy of “Penthouse” with one hand, or trip to a tittie bar. In any case, the only people who even seek therapy are the ones who’ve screwed their lives up, or had some horrible experience that shakes them up (Glatze’s sudden change was preceded by a breakup from a long-term relationship.)
Oh, and I can’t let this slip by: “If you happen to be in a care-giving profession, that is a shoe in the door.” Why do I get the feeling he’s alluding to people involved in the treatment of A.I.D.S. patients? (Probably because all wingnuts thing “Gay=A.I.D.S.”) Wonderful. That’s just what somebody needs when they’re facing a life-threatening illness-some jackass telling them to Repent, Then Sue. (And who do they sue, exactly?)
Sorry to write such a long comment. This stuff just leaves me unable to even make snarky jokes. But I will leave you with one last thing: My mom no longer feels that way, and in fact, feels bad about saying that-she realized, a long time ago, that it was out of line. Her attitude changed so much that it’s actually impossible to imagine her saying that today.
In the new remake of “The Graduate:”
Mr. McGuire: I want to say two words to you. Just two words.
Benjamin: Yes, sir.
Mr. McGuire: Are you listening?
Benjamin: Yes, I am.
Mr. McGuire: Teh gay.
Scott:
Fantastic in every way, except for “Pickled Watermelon Rind”. I got a shiver and flashed back to a semi-regular (every other month or so) dinner from my youth: Boiled Tongue and Pickled Watermelon Rind.
But, I’m not teh ghey, so it didn’t harm me too much.
I can’t even muster the strength to comment on this wing-nut, my wrists are so limp. As with all the straight people I know (some of my best friends are…well, not really, but my parents and siblings are, it doesn’t seem to be contagious and their hetrero nature hasn’t rubbed off on me) my only choice was whether to be honest or to try to lie about my sexuality. I’ve never been a good liar, or an actor. Unlike Ronald Reagan, I don’t even play one on TV.
It seems my dick don’t lie, either. Maybe Donald’s has been whispering subversive thoughts to him, and he’s beginning to get the urge to go to the gym…get tattooed and buzz-cut…wax his back…buy a big bucket of Elbow Grease and some rubber gloves….
I guess I have to defend the right of assholes to be themselves, too, but their views don’t have to go unchallenged. God bless the Filipina drag queens of Stonewall, chasing the cops down the street in their cha-cha heels. We still gotta fight for our right to exist, let alone party!
I think it was a nice British guy who tipped him off when he said he was “gonna step outside for a fag”
Eustace Tilley pushed Donald into a mud puddle and stole the Ding Dong from his lunchbox.
Oh Scott, you rag!! tee hee! Well thank God for your visits to the basement, or I would have to get by on reading the wingnuts for myself which does my blood pressure almost as much damage as 3 packs a day of unfiltered Chesterfields (Hey, tell me you weren’t serious about that – I’m beginning to wonder…..)
Bill S, your mom sounds like a wonderful lady. I can certainly imagine that having a son like you would have gone a long way toward dispelling her previous prejudices. Good for you and her!
Isn’t Tammy Bruce a lesbian? She really sneers at anyone who supports gay rights?
She is. And she writes unbelievably idiotic stuff attacking the “elites” who believe in marriage equality.
Gay, it’s the new cool.
Um,yeah, cause all the gay people I know really aren’t. They’re just following a fad.
Oh my heck.
My mother thinks it’s just a phase my partner and I (and our last long term third) are in, which I find hilarious but also a somewhat inevitable response from straights, being basically bi. Hell, I know *gay* people who think it’s just a phase I’m in.
You believe what you gotta believe to think well of yourself, I guess, and if that’s that your daughter is just pulling your leg with the whole bisexual, poly, pagan thing, or if it’s that bisexual people are just straights trying to be cool or partially-closeted gays, I suppose you go with it. I just kind of wish they’d stop telling me what they believed so that I could continue to think well of myself.
Ho hum. Kinda bored today. What to do, what to do? Let’s check the web. Not much happening there. The game hasn’t started yet.
I’ve GOT it! I’ve been meaning to try that whole gay sex thing for years. I mean, I’m not really attracted to men, and I don’t think there’s anything overly arousing about buttholes, but I’ve just GOTTA give it a try.
Curious? Not really. I just feel a lot of pressure. There’s Tom Cruise, there’s Gavin Newsome, hell, there’s Omar Vizquel! All these happy, wealthy kweers flaunting their joyous “lifestyle”. I mean, how else am I supposed to be cool?
Ok, let’s see. How do I do this? Excuse, me, sir? Would you like to have some sex? No, with me. Of course I’m not saying you’re gay. I’m not gay either. But don’t you want to be cool, hip and happening? No, there’s no need for that, I’ll be on my way.
Hmm, maybe there’s something on the web now…
mikey
Meet Hank Donald. No, wait. Donald Hank.
and is he “special friends” with Perry Rick? or is that Rick Perry?
secondhand homo
Instant classic.
I’m not convinced he’s a True Wingnut. Not once did he ever complain about having teh gay “stuffed down his throat” like a seasoned wingnut would.
I am curious how these folks would explain my gay brother. We were brought up in the family of a conservative Christian minister, Christian school, services 3 times a week and devotions every evening.
The Gay is a truely powerful Overlord that none can resist. All hail The Gay.
What Bill S. had to say about teh ghey being the ultimate in uncool. Much the same experiences with me, except by 15, I had definitely had loads of teh sex, and I didn’t come out to my dad ’til I was 21. He was really cool with it–not to the point of joining PFLAG or anything, but he did read a book or two about having gay kids, so totally no freakout. Considering that even TODAY, being gay, bi, transgendered, etc., is only marginally acceptable as long as you don’t in any way FLAUNT IT shows we’ve got a long way to go before we even *enter the neighborhood* of full acceptance. In the meantime, we are to accept straight people and everything they do without question, because they’re so inherently right. Yeah, right. I don’t even feel safe in my own damned country, so how equal am I?
Sorry, I think Dank Honold is really onto something here….
So, if I ever turn gay and get a dizeez as a result, I’m going to sue Dick Cheney for trotting his gay daughter out as a fine example of a successful gay person to emulate (even though I’m not the same gender as she is), the folks at Talon News Service for promoting the idea that even call-boys can make it into the White House, and the Rev. Ted Haggard and New Life Church for promoting meth-charged romps with masseurs as a path to God.
Some folks think that doing something and pretending they don’t is better than just accepting it as part of who you are. The battle isn’t Anti-Sodomy vs. Big Sodomy, it’s Sneaky Sodomy vs. Honest Sodomy. And that’s the one respect in which the smoking analogy might be useful here: The cigarettes you smoke in the crapper with the fan on, and then pretend you didn’t, will affect your health exactly the same as the cigarettes you smoke in public.
And I bet by lunchtime some sleazebag porno outfit starts production on a feature film called “Big Sodomy.” Maybe starring Matt Sanchez. If they don’t, something is wrong.
I was planning to write something full of snark in response to this, but when I got to the part about the class-action lawsuit, my brain just stopped. Now I have to go lick 9-volt batteries to try to kickstart it again.
On the bright side, my partner is a lawyer, so screw class-action. I’m gonna personally sue Charles Nelson Reilly’s estate for taunting me into gayness with his televised gayosity, along with Kurt Russell and Lee Majors for being smokin’ awesome hot and inspiring wicked thoughts in my youthful brain.
I used to smoke cloves until a gay friend told me they made me smell like a ham. TEH GHEY SAVED MY LIFE!
Okay, I think I’ve regained some of my sense of humour since this morning.
If there’s any truth to that Scandanavian study (and I suspect he’s misrepresenting the findings), doesn’t that mean bisexual men live 12 years longer than gay men?
If media and cultural influences are the only thing that lead men to become attracted to other men, and women to become attracted to other women, why hasn’t the sheer volume of heterosexual imagry in our culture-which is far greater-been enough to just turn them back?
If there’s any outside cultural influence that convinced me that there’s nothing wrong with being gay, it’s not gay-rights groups or liberal media or anything like that. It’s the ANTI-GAY assholes, from school bullies to Anita Bryant to Bible-beating-off fundies to Homophobic politicians to dimbulb pundits like this dipshit. The more offensive, insulting, crazy or just plain stupid they were, the more convinced I was that I should trust my OWN instincts.
And to those of you who believe in God, please consider the follwing:
Who’d he send to encourage people to be less racist in their thinking? Charismatic, articulate people like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Who’s the most famous spokesman against homosexuality? A creepy old man who stands outside funerals toting a sign depicting stick figures having anal sex.
I think that gives you a pretty good idea of where He really stands on this issue, doesn’t it? :)
Scott, this is terribly exciting. As the author of two monographs in the field (2005′s “Taco Myths of the American Nativists”, and last April’s “Libertarian Ghost Dance Rituals in a Middling Tennessee Faculty Lounge”, both, if I may say so, justifiably lightly regarded), I believe you may have uncovered the first example of a cargo cult on North American soil. Honking David Hank (English translation: “One Who Expels Intestinal Gas From The Head”) seems to have caught on to the idea that a magic called “Sci-ance” is at the heart of his enemies’ power over him, and is attempting to utilize its “Mojo” for his own purposes, within the confines of his linguistic limitations, of course. One can only hope to view this ritual in its natural setting, as Wingnut chiefs gather by the light of FAUX News to spread tales of miraculous power and don the Lab Coat of Power in the vain hope of a return to the glorious “Reagan Land” of their forebears.
Even the Abortion Industry meme makes more sense than Big Sodomy. People pay for abortions, but they don’t have to pay for gay sex (unless they’re Ted Haggard-ba bump ching!)
I am curious how these folks would explain my gay brother. We were brought up in the family of a conservative Christian minister, Christian school, services 3 times a week and devotions every evening.
You just did.
Well, people report that even years and years after giving up cigarettes, that every once in a while they still have a craving for one . . . pack or two.
some are teaching, as part of “sex education,” methods for carrying out harmful sexual perversions, including “fisting.”
WTF?! Where the hell was all this when I was in school back in the 70s? Fisting lessons, teachers having sex with students, iPods–kids these days have it sweet, and make no mistake.
Also: Barney Frank is still alive? Haven’t wingnuts been kicking him around for, like, 300 years?
An obvious closet case, whose struggle with his true desires is only weakened every time he sees a gay person who hasn’t been burned at the stake. I think the “study” in question has been de-bunked already, might have read that at Randy Andy’s Daily Dish sometime this week, or somewhere recently.
P. S.: I’ve lived in West Hollywood, Hollywood & Silver Lake for the last 30+ years, and none of the gay people who are vital parts of those areas (or any of the gay people I’ve worked w/ over the years, or been to school w/, or drank, smoked [Camel non-filters & their "Mexican Laughing" cousins] & partied w/, or what have you) have ever come on to me or tried to convince me heterosexuality was “uncool,” or anything else along those lines. And I’m not that ugly!! (OK, I am obnoxious, but that’s not necessarily bad.)
I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t involved in school or college past the ’70s, or I might have been convinced by “Big Sod” to, well, who knows?
Too bad, ’cause I’d just love to sue some academic institution on the basis that their suggesting that maybe beating/murdering “homos” is not a good idea turned me gay. Oh well.
Tammy Bruce is sort of a road company Camille Paglia who fancies she’s Florence King but more closely resembles Debbie Schlussel.
She’s not terribly talented, but then the competition for librutarian gaybashing lesbian conservative political punditry isn’t all that great. I imagine she’s got a dartboard with Norah Vincent on it somewhere.
teh Tammy
Thanks a lot, Julia. I had completely forgotten the existence of Norah Vincent. Blecch! Tammy Bruce, unfortunately, has sullied my ears on recent occasion.
“God bless the Filipina drag queens of Stonewall, chasing the cops down the street in their cha-cha heels. — ButchPansy
Beeeeauuuutiful. Couldn’t have put it better.
“Isn’t Tammy Bruce a lesbian?”
Think about it. Tammy. BRUCE. I mean, come ON, people!!! Where are your pun hats?!?!??! NOBODY could’ve pounced on THAT giant flaming cliche’??!?!?! Okay, maybe it’s not so much a “cliche’” as it is REALLY REALLY *REALLY* BAD CAMP, but still — Bill S., darling, Marq, darling — I’m so disappointed that nobody leapt upon this. Obviously I don’t have the skills necessary to do anything with “Tammy Bruce” aside from pointing out the comedic potential and bitching about it, but Y’ALL HAVE A DUTY TO THE READERSHIP, DAMMIT!!! Not even a SINGLE Debbie Reynolds joke. Tsk.
And D., sweetpea, welcome to my jungle. If I have ONE MORE gay guy or straight guy or guy PERIOD to tell me to “GET OFF OF THE FENCE,” I’m going to be making Lorena Bobbitt look like a RANK FUCKING AMATEUR!!!!!! Believe it or not boys, SOME OF US ARE *BORN* THIS WAY!!!!!! So call us greedy. So the fuck what? Y’know what being bi REALLY means? It means that you can now be REJECTED by 90% of America, instead of just slightly-less-than-50%, or the 10%-ish of the lesbians who MIGHT stop being so snotty about it and DARE to “risk” a fling with a “bi-girl.”
“Eyew — you’ve got DICK on your breath!”
As IF.
Hell, I haven’t done two in a day in at least…. jeeeeebus, I don’t even wanna say, ’cause it makes me feel THAT much older.
And Bill S., pumpkin, your King/Phelps breakdown was TOO FUCKING PERFECT!!! It damned near made me cackle with glee!
Except for one thing — teh haters SHOT Martin Luther King, Jr.
When in the FUCK is somebody going to draw a bead on SKELETOR PHELPS?!??!?!?! I’ll buy their fucking AMMO!!!!!!
Okay. Enough bolding and italics. For now, anyway.
Somebody get this self-loathing little freakazoid closet-case (and he’s probably a FURRY, TO BOOT!!!) illiterate dog-lusting mouth-breathing knuckle-dragging inbred cousin-fucking troglodyte off of my fucking PLANET!!!!!
It’s not bad enough that losers, morons, and slaughterers of the English language like this are actually somewhat “EMPLOYED” as so-called “WRITERS” (which is more than enough to make my fucking skull explode) — it’s that somebody is paying this dumbass toad-licking motherfucker to “write” his “OPINIONS”!!!!!!
I’ve seen more prescient observations, opinions and conversations on the bathroom stall walls of the Dragon’s Den in the Faubourg Marigny — hell, ANYWHERE ON DECATUR STREET, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!!!!
And I’d put any and every queen who’s ever worked at the Clover Diner or Poppy’s (those bitches know how to sling some hash, honey!) up against this hairy-palmed little prevert ANY FUCKING DAY. Writing, fisting, parsing “logic” (if that word has ever frolicked across his dented & demented little skull), parting hair (oft-times with a .22 pearl-handled derringer) or pulling fresh flowers out of a fresher asshole.
Ugh.
I feel like I need a full-body dip in clorox after digesting this moron’s travesties against the English language, against logic, and against all things that are rational and right in this universe.
This article was truely satisfying! Thanks.
Lemme see- Gatze (an editor) was living with the publisher. Now he is anti-gay. Someone doesn’t take rejection very well, do he?
Oh, shooting Phelps would just make him a martyr-y’really want the fundies to re-write history about that shriveled old prick? Besides it’s a waste of ammo-I imagine throwing a bucket of water on him would do this trick.
THE trick.
Why’d I write “this”? I need more coffee.
Great old ciggie ads, especially the Reagan one.
A few years back, somebody posted this (MP3 audio, ~640Kb) to a Usenet MP3 newsgroup. I particularly like “What cigarette do YOU smoke, DOCTOR?” Talk about yer chutzpah.
It all makes perfect sense when you realize that Hank’s theory was stolen from Van Morrison one day when he and Haggard were listening to music while under the influence of crystal meth.
You see, as Van postulated three decades ago, if you set the gays on fire you will live longer and become wealthy.
“Search in your bag
Light up a fag
Think it’s a drag, but you’re so glad
To be alive, honey
Alive, honey
Say, when this is all over
You’ll be in clover
We’ll go out and spend
All a your (blue money)
Blue money (blue money)
Do-do-you-do, n’-do-do-you-do
n’ do-do-do-you do, n’ do-do-do-you-do”
By the way, anyone here prefer to get partially devoured by the deadly beast?
Can he eat me until I’m nearly blind?
Wellllll, Bill, I know that you’re right, but dammit, I am SICK of that cadaverous old fuck WASTING MY OXYGEN and TORMENTING THE FAMILIES OF SOLDIERS MURDERED BY DICK CHENEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, I know, there’s that honor-guard of big-ass vet bikers who escort the funerals now to keep Phelps and his flying monkeys away, but still. This piece of shit does not deserve to draw breath (though carbon monoxide would work wonderfully)… And yes, a big bucket of water (especially if it were “holy” water!) would prolly work, too, but why hasn’t anyone TRIED it yet?!??!!?!
Now as to the uber-freudian slip of “THIS trick”… well, I think that you’ve figured that one out by now, honey… heh heh heh… I hope that you tipped well… heh heh heh…
Now I have to go lick 9-volt batteries to try to kickstart it again.
I think I need to get my tongue bifurcated so I can put it across the terminals of a car battery. Something that can deliver 75 amps at 12 volts, anyways.
But if Lank Ronald (or whatever his name is wants) an exemplar of Teh Ex-Ghey, perhaps he shouldn’t look too closely at the late British jazz singer and surrealist George Melly. Died a couple weeks ago aged 80. Was almost exclusively gay through his 20s and 30s, played mixed doubles for the next couple of decades, then pretty much stuck to the concave sex for the remainder of his life, and never expressed a solitary regret about ANY of it.
Where he most signally fails the Republican purity test is that at his death he had been married to the same woman since 1963. I bet that would fuck with their tiny little minds most of all.
I think I need to get my tongue bifurcated so I can put it across the terminals of a car battery.
Try jumper cables. They work for me just fine.
Think about it. Tammy. BRUCE… Bill S., darling, Marq, darling — I’m so disappointed that nobody leapt upon this.
[snort]
Hmm. Huh? [yawn] Ugh. Soooooo sleepy [smack smack]!
Tammy Bruce? Ummmmmmm… [quick, brain, think of something funny and clever to say about Tammy Bruce! "Who?" D'oh!]
Do I have to turn in my “Gay™” card if I admit that I’ve never heard of her?So, all I’d be doing would be recycling lame, generic lesbian jokes. Sorry!
Not that there’s anything more wrong about lame, generic lesbian jokes than there is about lame, generic gay jokes*.
.
.
.
.
*realizing that there is an extremely vocal minority out there that really runs from “crisis” to “crisis”, stamping their little feet while proclaiming it Teh Most Important Crisis Evarrr!!1!!
Of course, it isn’t.
Frankly, I’m amazed no one riffed on the old Tareyton slogan, “I’d rather fight than switch.”
Well, for me, the name “Tammy” by itself tends to conjure up that campy song by Debbie Reynolds. But the name Tammy Bruce tends to conjure up only vomit, so my ability to write a parody tribute to her tends to get sidetracked. Maybe in the near future I’ll try to write one, but I ain’t making promises.
Oh, and Annti, it wasn’t just the TIP.
(Ooh…did I SAY that? I’m sooo bad. :) )
GGRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOAANNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!
Get the hook!!!
And Marq, darling, I know that you’ve been laid-up this week (shaddup, Bill), but I can’t believe that you didn’t make the “Tammy’s In Looooooooove” connection!!!
And Bill, you are sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo wrong. So wrong. Tsk. Hand me that whip.
*sigh*
“Tammy” (Debbie Reynolds) + BRUCE (cliche’ gay male name) = SOMEBODY shoulda come up with a good joke about this, dammit!!!
Whatever happened to that politically correct, cool, suave, debonair habit that was all the rage among college students, profs, teachers… and just about everyone purporting to have “intellect”?
Hell, I’m 45 years or older, but when I first read that, I was wondering whether the particular habit he meant was
(a) Licking cane-toads;
(b) boiling up cactus juice; or
(c) smoking datura flowers.
Here in NZ we evidently have different standards of coolness and suavity.
Meanwhile, in 1957, “Surgeon General Leroy E. Burney declared it the official position of the U.S. Public Health Service that the evidence pointed to a causal relationship between smoking and lung cancer.”
…Not wanting to question US leadership in these issues or anything, but in Britain the Health Minister announced that the smoking / cancer link was beyond doubt, back in 1954. That was after Richard Doll’s 1951 and 1954 BMJ papers.
some scientists at the National Institutes of Health got together in the ’60s, ’70s and later and did some pioneering studies that proved beyond the shadow of a doubt
…And this is why 9 out of 10 social scientists do not consult Conservapedia when writing an article.
So…give up lust? What you lust after? Great sex? For what….? Perfunctory sex with your (cover person)?
Been there, done that, not in the case of being gay and pretending…but in the case of my husband cheating on me and not really being there in the moment when I was.
It is among the worst and lonliest feelings in the world and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
In the end, no pun intended, you have to be true to yourself and live as an authentic life as you can. This is something the Repugs seem to miss. Dems are much more who they really are.
But with Rethugs, you get to play “Spot Teh Pooftah!”, that wacky new gameshow hit imported from the UK by ABC, just like “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?”. Ecpect the spin-off show, “Spot Teh Adulterer!” to follow shortly.
Expect,” damnit! Is my hand-eye coordination really that bad?
Wait.
Don’t answer that.
No, really.
Don’t.