Tag Archives: Odd News

Vatican goes green, and why text messages are evil

Considering the News…

In its latest attempt to embrace the digital age the Vatican is calling all Catholics and deploring believers to put down those sin-riddled cellphones during these glorious days of self-inflicted self-deprivation known as Lent. And it’s about bloody time.

Alas, how so dreadfully often furious typers of text messages neglect to take an occasional moment to bask in the glory of the Lord,  appreciating the sacrifices Christ made many centuries ago to guarantee our ability to text in peace.

So many times Mass goers have looked in uncontrolled horror as an iPhone clings to one believer’s hand while the body of Christ is placed in the other.

Why must these menacing iPod headphones dangle from ears when almighty and all-knowing priests speak the word of the Lord?

How can we not go one day a week without obsessing over the stats and numbers on our computers at work?

Must we drive those 17 unholy miles to work every day of Lent, or can a bike suffice for the sake of sacrifice?

Indeed, the Vatican – the guiding light it is, the beacon of hope we gratefully accept it to be – has composed a righteous list of ways to shun technology for these 40 days of Lent.

The Pope has blessed this manifesto of ways for circumventing the inherent dangers and evils of computers, iPhones, and Facebook.

All we can do is hope. Pray. Accept this list as a means for coming closer to God. For emulating the sacrifices Jesus so unselfishly made many years ago.

For more tips on how to become a better Catholic, please visit the Vatican website. Or, please befriend Pope Benedict on his Facebook and MySpace pages. Or, for those wanting some viral proverbs, feel free to tune into the Vatican YouTube Channel that is now available.

See you all after Easter!

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Michael Jackson’s nose is gone – No one surprised

Considering the News…

Michael Jackson is a man of confidence. A selfless guy. One who captivates a room of any size, no matter how many stars grace the floor. He teaches us that vanity is by no means a virtue, and for that we are all better people.

Thus, we praise not only his music catalog but look to him for guidance in navigating this cruelest of worlds. That a man of unmatched talent and unrivaled stardom should turn to plastic surgery seemingly every other week can only mean one thing – he is showing us the path to spiritual liberation.

The entire Jackson family is comprised of upstanding citizens and role models, strong-willed folks who put humanity and goodness before selfish wants and desires.

But only Michael could make such a prolific sacrifice – his cherished nose. Sad reports are surfacing and the outlook is grim. It appears Michael’s frequent trips under the knife have finally got the best of him, and a ruthless skin disease threatens the lovely little nose we have come to accept as a vision of perfection.

Because of Michael I will seek a more perfect face. Because of him I will have no rhinoplasty no matter how large and ominous my nose might often seem. Because of him I have seen the light, and there is a fine nose beneath it.

It is the nose given to me at birth. The nose god meant for me to have. And for that I shall never face the dire day when I have no nose at all.

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The Sanctity of Marriage – Plus, why gay marriage and polygamy have a chance

Considering the News…

There’s a lovely story out of Indiana receiving tremendous news coverage, of a 68-year-old woman who’s had the honorable privilege of marrying 23 times, with the marriages lasting as long as seven years and as little as 36 hours.

Born Linda Lou Taylor, this bride of brides is a living ode to the beauty of marriage, embracing all its ups and downs, in sickness and in health, a life’s work devoted to advancing the significance of this most sacred institution.

In these dark moral times of homosexuals fighting for marriage rights and polygamists pressing for the right to wed multiple partners, Linda Lou Taylor’s courageous story underscores the vital importance of preserving marriage as a union between only man and woman.

Why, would homosexuals be capable of marrying 23 different times? Not a chance. They don’t have the stomach for it.

And what about polygamists – could any of them achieve 23 partners at one time? Of course not, what an absolutely silly thought.

We must all applaud Linda Lou Taylor’s strong will and unrelenting dedication to this earnest and really, really serious cause. Thanks to her our children and our children’s children will one day be able to marry and divorce and marry and divorce and marry and divorce and marry again as many times as they deem necessary – supposing, of course, they are heterosexual God-fearing Christians who love and respect their partners, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, at least one in 23 tries.

Here’s to you Linda Lou Taylor – you’re one lousy tramp! But at least you’re not gay or Mormon. Now THAT would be a moral travesty.

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British, French nuclear subs collide – Plus, why Iran and North Korea might as well have a few nukes

Considering the News…

France and Britain are rather crimson and clover in the face today, as nuclear-armed submarines from the two national powers played a viscous game of underwater chicken, with neither side ever deciding to bail out.

Too much pride on the line, I suppose. And that’s a good thing, even if a couple dozen warheads colliding is not.

Some physical harm was endured, yes – mostly non-lethal bumps, bruises, and scratches – yet the major damage comes in the volatile form of concerned members of the press and members of a growing citizens group known simply by the succinct moniker Not too crazy about getting accidentally blown up because trained officers cannot clearly distinguish a nuclear-armed submarine from a dead whale.

(Indeed, any given day will find me willing to take a chance with 100 warheads before crossing the aforementioned citizens group. No hesitation whatsoever.)

It is true that history has bared witness to myriad mishaps by the French and British armed forces, however, this most clumsy incident illustrates just how integrally connected we all are as citizens of the same world, and that these blunders risk ravaging more than mere national pride.

While the self-proclaimed good guys forecast imminent global doom should Iran or North Korea ever obtain nuclear weapons, perhaps the more pressing concern is our allies throwing 50 warheads in the trunk and driving around with a head full of whiskey, wine and downers.

And yet who can condemn the British or the French? This obviously is no fault of theirs.

That two nuclear-armed submarines managed to collide in the Atlantic Ocean, as ridiculous as it all is considering the infinite space and avenues, is a bloody amazing feat for which only god can take credit.

The math alone requires us to forgive the two mortal nations without questions, punishment, or ridicule, as this was not of their doing. It would be like two 8-foot-tall redheads with 160 IQs and only 8 toes running into each other on a bike trail in Wichita, Kansas. Just doesn’t happen without good reason.

What won’t be forgiven is our grave suspicions of the ocean, for the world survived another day, but at what cost. I for one will never step foot in the Atlantic again, lest I wish for my right foot to fall off and grow tentacles and a set of teeth in its place. No, that doesn’t sound too swell at all.


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The Colonel’s fried chicken secret is safe – Plus, why nobody cares

Considering the News…

Fried chicken enthusiasts can rest easy today, thanks to comforting reports the beloved KFC recipe has at last been safely transported and secured in a secret vault somewhere in the enchanted hills of Kentucky.

Learning the exact contents of this hand-written document – penned by the mystical Colonel himself – has sent fried chicken impersonators through the depths of hell, as countless combinations have failed in the honorable quest of authentically replicating the mythical 11-herb mixture.

Few things have incited greater culinary madness through the ages, with some comparing the importance of the scintillating chicken recipe to that of Jesus’ bread, Emeril’s Caribbean-style chicken, and Bo Jackson’s signature BO Burger.

Naturally, every precaution was taken in transporting the historical document – with many security guards and a handcuff briefcase involved in the covert mission – before it was finally laid to rest in a high-tech vault that will be guarded around the clock by living personnel. And thank God for that.

At any given time, but only two living KFC executives harness the dear privilege of knowing the full recipe, which no doubt qualifies them both for the ‘Luckiest Damn Person Alive Competition’ held annually in Waukee, Iowa.

Merely disclosing a single element of the recipe means instant death by way of the guillotine, a long-standing Kentucky law that has surely survived many Supreme Court challenges, as it is no secret Rehnquist loved nothing more than a late-night bucket of crispy and succulent fried chicken.

Yes, this 68-year-old legend of a recipe is poised to remain a well-kept treasure for at least another 10 years, when slumping sales inspire KFC executives to move the document yet again, to any even bigger vault, with even more human security guards – reminding Americans the Colonel’s chicken is still accessible at your local KFC chain store.Today. And right now.

I myself haven’t eaten the filth in years. Maintaing a good cholesterol level just doesn’t allow for it, I’m afraid. Plus, the grocery store fried chicken tastes just as good, if not much better.

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Octuplets move to mystery mansion – Plus, why everyone with six kids should have another eight

Considering the News…

Scintillating details of the California octuplets remain shrouded in mystery, now four days removed from the babies’ removal from the mother’s womb.

Traditionally patient and polite news media is growing uncharacteristically anxious. Many pressing questions remain unanswered. What are their names? Who are the eight fathers? Are they Clippers or Lakers fans?

Yet the family is proceeding with painstaking secrecy and caution, striving to protect the anonymity of these eight little miracles, and paying no mind to the joyful reporters calmly seeking an interview.

The latest rumor seasoning this savory story is word the parents already have six little miracles – meaning their humble home has now contributed 14 healthy and happy and necessary additions to the otherwise scarcely populated state of California.

Unfortunately, heartless skeptics now wrongly question the family’s sincerity, speculating the true incentive for breeding eight little miracles simultaneously is an unbridled desire for fame and undeserved gifts. But that’s not the honest Christian thing to do, now is it.

Representing this batch of miracles is the grandfather ( identifying himself as Ed), who has offered few guarantees or promises thus far, aside from leaking word of a huge mystery mansion existing somewhere in the remote hills of the countryside, well beyond the mental and physical limits of lazy media members.

There, he says, his two dozen or so grandchildren will live in unchallenged secrecy, never bothering with the unworthy outside world. That 16 miracles can move anywhere in this country without anyone noticing is a relatively common feat destined for absolute, unhindered success. They will probably never be found, seen, or heard from again.

They certainly will never stoop to repeating the same trite interview again and again for any TV station agreeing to donate to the college fund, a college fund that will undoubtedly go toward the octuplets’ education alone, and not to any extravagant trips or boats or new cars or an even bigger mystery mansion in the even more remote hills of the countryside.

I wish the family only the absolute best. A great service they have done for the world. Think of how much less crime there would be if every family with six children made the admirable decision to take fertility drugs (true story) and have another eight.

We can only wonder how many less cars would be on the road. How much food everyone would have. How much cheaper college tuition would be. How many less people would be on welfare. How many more people would be employed. How many more people would be able to visit Wal-Mart and buy Chinese toys and appliances.

Indeed, we can only wonder.

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Bush vacates the White House, a terribly sad sun sets

Considering the News…

President Bush is back in Crawford, Texas, the sun having set at last on his memorable and abundantly eventful presidency. It’s back to civilian life, back to making trivial decisions that affect no one of interest.

Done are the presidential press conferences that inspired the collective cheers of so many Americans, all lauding his fine leadership while saying, “Just look at the truth spray from the glorious fountain that is his blessed mouth.”

Gone are the nightly compliments paid by popular late night talk show hosts, who so often honored President Bush with flattering Top Ten lists illustrating his competence and valor, or featured unforgettable clips from his valiant speeches, inevitably comparing him with the prolific orators who preceded him to the Oval Office.

Evaporated is the comforting notion of unchallenged national security, impregnable to the venomous terrorists hellbent on sowing America’s terrible doom, forever ready to sweep up any suspicious rogue who attempted to board the wrong plane or make the wrong cell phone call.

Lost is the simple honesty and crystal transparency of the Executive Branch, where Bush devoted the entirety of his eight years to illuminating to us common Americans the duties and privileges of this uncommon office, incidentally proving formidable leaders are never compromised by arrogance, stubbornness, or hubris.

Ended are the jovial bonds forged in the Bush administration, a successful experimentation in which friends and close colleagues worked intimately together to achieve the monumental, dismissing the antiquated sentiment that only a hodgepodge of so-called experts can propell the country to unbridled prosperity.

The nation, and thus the world, is much different today. A queer and unsettling feeling looms. Can our country survive without George W. Bush, the man who so cautiously overlooked our armed forces and national pocketbook with prudence and due diligence, the Commander-in-Chief who sacrificed his own passion, familial grudges, and personal agenda for the betterment of his treasured country?

No one can be certain. The future looks grim, with only a hint of sunshine gleaming off the coast of Hawaii. No expert myself, I have no authority to say.

But as a proud and concerned citizen of the greatest nation in history, I’m sure as shit ready to find out. God damn.

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President Bush delivers inspiring farewell speech – Few listen and some laugh uproariously

Considering the News…

President George W. Bush delivered a heart-warming, belly-tingling, buns-tickling farewell to the nation yesterday, and I’m both alarmed and appalled that this magnanimous leader – general of all things mighty, admiral of all that is right – was given second ticket to an airplane landing in the Hudson River of all places.

Never mind that America has gone terror free since that infamous September day back in 2001. No, we wouldn’t want to pay Sir Bush any gratitude for that startling accomplishment. And that’s to mention nothing of the sweeping social progress in Afghanistan and Iraq, where swimming pools and McDonald’s restaurants are being built daily. I know, right, we’re bringing recreation and exquisite dining to the Middle East and still lacking is the litany of cards thanking Bush for his heroic labors.

And did I mention this airplane incident didn’t even amount to any fatalities? What happened to the old “Blood leads” creed that has been an indisputable ratings booster since the inception of this thing television? What happened to sticking to your guns, both figuratively and literally? Why, George Bush has over 4,000 gruesome deaths on his watch, and still he can’t even get 13 uninterrupted minutes to bid us farewell.

That American media is in shambles, faltering, sinking, capsizing with a torrent crash, need not be said. And now we know why. In lieu of the traditional blood and guts that endeared a country so obsessively to one medium, the news media chose a deathless plane ride that ended with pictures of people cruising safely across the Hudson River in boats.

Well, if America desires feel-good sunshine stories over the bungled artistry of a master manipulator like George W. Bush, then I say good riddance to the whole blasted thing. Here we have one of the most extraordinary criminal minds of our time hanging up his crowbar and wiretap, and we do no more than sit idly by, sharing trivial God bless Americas because some fortunate citizens managed to ride on a plane and boat in the same hour.

I give up.

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The Osama Bin Laden Guide to Immortality

Considering the News…

Former terrorism mogul and one-time television sensation Osama bin Laden has lugged his crippled bones out of the death box once again, this time calling for jihad hell in Israel until Jerusalem is rightfully or wrongfully (who really knows) returned to the Palestinians.

Bin Laden, the generous soul that he was, also welcomed the President-elect to the world stage with a nugget of invaluable advice, namely that his unthoughtful predecessor is leaving him a pile of shit and he might consider withdrawing American troops if he doesn’t wish to step in it.

Initially, my reaction to this latest installment in The Middle East is Fucked Diaries was “Wow, that inbred clown is still around. Go figure.” Then it was, “Wow, what happened to al-Quaida’s marketing budget? They go from polished militant videos to a barely audible audio recording played over a picture of Osama from 1998? Something’s gone terribly wrong here. Have they not been to Best Buy Dubai lately? Have they not seen the kickass HD camcorders on the market?”

Further analyzing this Wizard of OZ tomfoolery spawned thoughts of my own immortality, and what low-budget production might prolong my own impact beyond these living days. The exact nature and capacity of my impact concerned me little – only how I could prolong the damn thing.

Thus I commenced recording a manifest compilation of random, spontaneous, and often times nonsensical ramblings. No topic escaped my attention. I realized that the recorded word, no matter how outlandish, could ultimately breed everlasting life if the right people managed my affairs after my expiration.

My plan now is to find someone, anyone, to play my tapes (Yes, I’m using tapes) once every six months after my death. Then it will be as if I were alive and well and speaking the fine words of wisdom myself – and in real time, too.

By recording 200 or 300 variations of the same speech – occasionally throwing in a fact I trust will withstand the test of time (Say, the Palestinians and Israelis fighting an everlasting holy war) – and then summoning a responsible and trustworthy colleague to play the tapes while holding up a picture of me (Personal Note: Find old high school baseball photos), then immortality will be mine.

That oafish assclown Osama was a ruthless son of a bitch, but he certainly had it all figured out. What a prodigious mind that rat bastard had to be. Way ahead of his time. And apparently beyond his time to boot.

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Economy Down but Chlamydia Up – Fair Trade Off

Considering the News…

Having grown weary from the exhaustive news coverage of our economy being in shambles and  the fate of everyone essentially being doomed, I was more than pleased to learn chlamydia is surging like a blind horse in heat.

One can read about new record  lows only so many times before he goes madly insane, so this recent report that America’s favorite venereal disease is on the up and up comes at an ideal time. That this economic turmoil has incited a myriad of suicides but hasn’t yet extinguished our desire to have rampant, unprotected, hate sex is just the good news we need right now.

To be quite blunt, I was dangerously close to losing my wits prior to learning of the unparalleled promiscuity and debauchery spreading joy in America. Trudging through an endless stream of depression stories, I likely risked sacrificing my own good heart, clear conscience and generally affable nature before much longer. Something, needless to say, I wasn’t incredibly excited about enduring.

So fortunately my playful dreams will be disrupted by the economic horror stories no longer. Sunshine stories still do come along every now and again. They still do come along.

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The Army to recruit flabby soldiers – The end is near

Considering the News…

The common American (to say nothing of the extraordinary American) has come to expect very little of his fellow countrymen, and doing so has enabled meager standards and expectations to fashion comfortable homes in every sector of society, something for which we are all ultimately worse off.

From regular consumer services to exotic dance clubs, as a nation we have wholeheartedly nurtured mediocrity, earnestly praised the half-ass-ed-ness warts of society. Now even the most modest of expectations are often greeted with some brand of failure, and yet as Americans we have grown perfectly accustomed to these regular shortcomings.

One must no longer even exert an ounce of energy to earn our deepest sympathies, if not our unbridled respect and admiration. Simply existing in a given place and time suffices these days.

Hey, you son of a bitch, at least you tried. Oh, what, you didn’t even try? Oh well, at least you showed up. Oh what, you didn’t even show up? Well, frankly, I say screw it then. I’m sure you’ll get ’em next time.

But they likely won’t get ’em next time. Or even the next time after that. We know this fact quite well and choose to forgive it rather than redeem it. Yes, it is likely beyond redemption at this point.

Seemingly only televisions, handguns, and breast augmentations consistently achieve new heights of quality; meanwhile just about every other industry fails miserably in its own respective way, which, I suppose, is somewhat of a victory in itself.

Nonetheless, few seem the least bit concerned by this troubling phenomenon, while others refuse to even acknowledge its destructive implications.

The endemic has gotten so severe that even the military appears prepared to accept inferiority. Struggling to maintain adequate troop levels, whatever those may be, The Army has elected to expand physical entry requirements – meaning the chubby dreamers turned away in previous years are now entitled to a handsome signing bonus should they choose to be all they can be.

The next great American war – assuming one looms – will be won not with our country’s best, but behind a hodgepodge of flabby, acne-riddled runts incapable of lettering in any high school sport other than perhaps ping pong.

Perhaps future American victories cannot safely be assumed. The brazen search for war is unwise with a well-trained and fine-tuned army, but it should be avoided like Malaysian syphilis by those feeble nations boasting a flimsy force comprised of the fatigued and the breathless. No, the fatigued and the breathless have won few wars through the course of history.

Should The Army begin lowering its standards today, I shiver in pondering how far it will stoop by the year 2020 or 2030. Surely no “fit” teenagers will still grace the country’s population by then, but the thirst for war will still necessitate the need to recruit someone. Anyone.

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Tim Tebow, future President of the United States?

Considering the News…

I’m now convinced Florida Gators football superstar, American legend, and Christian goodfella, Tim Tebow, will be President a day not too far from today. No doubts. No reservations about that one.

The guy exudes confidence. Spouts leadership. Is to charisma what Amy Winehouse is to crackheads – the definition.

Now some will say, hey, what about him being born in the Philippines? No way he can be President. Just not constitutional. Can’t happen.

Well, such minutiae, no matter how damning, is never impugn to the smearing and twisting of a genuine spin doctor – at least not one worth his or her weight in venom and wax. Was Barack Obama born within domestic borders? Kenya? Malaysia? Hawaii? Ah, who cares, the guy weaves rhetorical gold at the podium. The same will hold true for Florida’s chosen son, the natural hybrid of Abe Lincoln and Johnny Unitas.

Then some will say, hey, the guy’s like 21 years old. That’s way too young to be President.

Yes, such restrictions can hinder progress at times. But what about the Chinese Olympic Gymnastics team? Talent can make 12 the new 16 with few hardships when the right people rework the script. Thus I’m confident Tebow can smile and fist-pump his way to 40 in no time. Little effort required, to say the least.

Then some might say, hey, can he even win any southern state other than Florida after pummeling their football teams every year for seemingly an entire decade?

Football is next to religion down south, and Tebow’s dominance makes him somewhat of a demagogue in the region. Touchdowns are the new doctrine, you see. He’ll sweep every state by at least 95-5, with the other 5 percent going to Mike Huckabee and Jeb Bush.

So there you have it, Tim Tebow is destined to become President. No force, formidable as it may be, is going to impede his mystical ascension to the pinnacle of national prominence. Not even  a few minor rules and technicalities can stop him. Maybe not even Jesus.

Ok, probably Jesus. But nothing else.

Either way, I can’t imagine voting for him. Can’t stand the Gators.

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Barack the Magic Negro and the New GOP

Considering the News…

With the historic 2008 elections now clogging the nation’s collective memory, both major parties are striving to quickly bolster their political image with a barrage of confounding spectacles, confusing any and every American willing to pay attention along the way.

Within a bloody fortnight of winning the election Obama was steeped in shit and corruption – no advisable position for a President-elect. Why, Obama had barely commenced searching for his passport and packing his Hawaiian shirts when word spread that his abandoned senate seat was being auctioned on eBay, and apparently going for no small sum.

While Obama evidently had no hand in the seedy negotiations, his name was certainly thrust into the center of the national dialogue, an unfortunate first presidential production for a man riding the righteous tide of  Washington’s next great exorcist.

After bathing in the story like a call girl in a pile of bills, people (notably the American media) began questioning whether Blago had even committed a crime. Sure the FBI tapes seemed incriminating enough, however, what would be the condition of our prisons if we arrested every body guilty of proclaiming the desire to commit a crime? It’s not but 10 a.m. and already I have heard six different people say today they wouldn’t mind beheading our current President, and yet another who wished the same for Regis Philbin.

Not a grand opening act for America P.O. (or Post Obama). For unearthing corruption is one thing, but summoning the moral police is quite another. I’m not sure where my readers stand on the issue, yet I for one would rather miss the ability to wish death upon my least favorite public figures, or the opportunity to say I’m two drinks away from holding up a bank to appease my creditors. Actions are actions and speech is speech, and I don’t care to start monitoring my words too closely.

Now the GOP, beaten in November like an unwanted fourth daughter that should have been a first son, hasn’t chosen to seize the moral reins in these trying times – no reinvented image has been introduced hitherto. Instead the GOP seems more than content to perpetuate the unsavory perceptions already debilitating its national viability.

Hoping to become the new Republican National Committee chair, Chip Saltsman thought it rather wise to distribute a CD featuring the infamous “Barack the Magic Negro” song composed by renowned satirist, Paul Shanklin. While this is another form of speech I am fond of, the timing strikes me as a bit off.

One might think Saltsman would at least have waited until after he was awarded the position before disseminating quasi-racist soundtracks. That’s just common sense.

So it doesn’t appear either party is overly concerned with positive party identities as of yet. However, I certainly have high hopes for 2009. A new politics awaits us.

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Cease Fires and Virginity Pledges…Two Pinnacle Ploys of Mankind

Considering the News…

After enjoying my morning coffee with a few riotous news stories exploring the missile hurling competitions in the Middle East, attention was drawn to a recent study examining the true prudence of teens willingly agreeing to the infamous virginity pledge.

Now, initially I saw no connection between the two, as there doesn’t seem an obvious link between the frisky nature of raucous teenagers and the fearless demeanor of the bomb-happy Palestinians and Israelis currently reconfiguring the border along the West Bank.

Yet the more I read, the more I pondered, and the more I compared, it occurred to me that man indeed is a frivolous being, perpetually haunted by an innate instinct to seek and destroy, not long deterred by pesky cease-fire agreements and virginity pledges.

Yessir, restrictive pledges inhibit man for only so long, this evidenced by the hundreds of bombs that have rained from Middle East skies since the cease-fire agreement between Israel and Hamas ended but only 10 days ago; and also reinforced by the alarming conclusions of a recent federal study that found the majority of teenagers pledging to abstain from sex have little intention of earnestly adhering to any of the guidelines.

In fact, these conspicuous teens seem to be taking that pledge out behind the woodshed and defiling it in much haste.

Thus we see the basic instincts of man will forever prevail over arbitrary agreements and pledges, for ploys of peace and purity seem quite nice and pleasing and G-rated and what have you, but nothing sates the soul quite like bombs and orgasms – a fact of the highest caliber.

Certain truths never falter, therefore, what sense is there in pretending east and west might soon exchange sides of the moon? Jews and Palestinians don’t appear overly anxious to exchange niceties, whores never make fine housewives, and the Yankees buy a losing, albeit expensive, team nine years out of ten.

So we should aim not to suppress these indulgences, but embrace them, never relenting in our epic quest to quench the desire to make it rain. That’s all we have. Hallelujah.

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2008 – The Year of Experience and Merit in Politics

Considering the News…

2008 will be remembered for a plethora of historic achievements – A Philadelphia team not choking in the championship, Oprah becoming the first talk show host to eclipse 200 pounds more than 12 times in a career, Detroit auto companies selling more cars than ever – but perhaps this year’s most distinguished contributions to history have come per the political spectrum.

Yessir, 2008 is going down as the year experience and merit propelled savvy politicians to the mountain’s top.

There was Barack Obama dismissing the notion community organizers aren’t people, too, as he raised ungodly sums of money to spearhead his successful presidential campaign, ultimately shocking the world by becoming the country’s first black commander-in-chief.

There was Sarah Palin proving intelligence and familiarity with the U.S. Constitution is by no means a requisite for political dominance, having quickly claimed the throne of the Conservative Kingdom of Yahoos, ridding the world of barriers that hindered the likes of Forrest Gump, Britney Spears, and the French.

And now there is Caroline Kennedy laboring to extend her family’s rule in the Senate, scoffing at any indignant asshole who might contend there is more to public office than a surname and a shit-ton of money, laughing at those poor souls who are quick to remind us she has accomplished nothing of substance outside of writing a book or two and being born a Kennedy, mocking us simpletons who ever believed Democracy was devised to elect the best and the brightest – and not merely those with a familiar name and, yes, a shit ton of money.

What a year 2008 has been. Surely it will go down in infamy as the year pragmatisim had a heart attack on the john.

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8 percent of Illinois residents are crazy…Many proud parents

Considering the News…

Embattled Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich is still a very popular figure in his home state, as recent polls indicate eight percent of his constituents still think rather highly of him.

And that’s no laughable accomplishment considering his current legal troubles, so I imagine his parents are quite proud of him these days, calling all friends and acquaintences in the rolodex for some good old fashioned offspring praising.

And yet Blago might not even be the most admired golden child in the state, what with Jessie Jackson’s boy Jessie Jackson sowing a rather sparkling image for himself, making all sorts of glamorous headlines and becoming an earnest talking point for late night talk show hosts. Quite a big deal he’s become.

Indeed, I’m no father myself, however, I’m compelled to believe a son like Jessie Jr. would bring me unparalleled joy. Few things elevate the spirits of a good-hearted man in the same fashion as witnessing a son surpass the public greatness of himself, and Jessie Jackson’s certainly a good-hearted man if there ever was one.

I’m sure the Jacksons are going to have a splendid Christmas this year, and so too the Blagojevich family. They’ll receive all sorts of thoughtful gifts and a litany of endearing cards, all coming from eight percent of the friends and family they once had.

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Obama is British and Harry Potter is a Muggle

Considering the News…

The grandest court in all the land has rejected an emergency appeal from a New Jersey man who claims to know more about the President-elect than even, say, the President-elect.

No, he’s not a biographer, per se, but he understands natural citizenship more than most, which makes it a damn shame his case won’t be heard in earnest by the U.S. Supreme Court.

Leo Donofrio (yes, that’s his real name) of Brunswick, N.J., contends that as Obama’s mother was American but his father was Kenyan, and thus a British subject, in no way whatsoever can Obama really be a pure-blood American, rendering him ineligible for the presidency.

It’s a vague and shady genetic equation, but Donofrio’s theory is flawless and has the backing of a monumental precedent. You see, in the case of Hermione v. Hogwartz School of Wizardry, Professor Dumbledore ruled that as Ms. Granger was undeniably the mixed blood product of a witch and a muggle, she did not qualify for classification as a pure-blood witch, no matter how prodigious her abilities.

Thus I hope the U.S. Supreme Court reconsiders the egregious dismissal of such a sincere case. Once again America finds itself at the mercy of the courts electing to legislate from the bench. What a dark world we live in.

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Illinois continues streak of corrupt governors

Considering the News…

The state of Illinois is precise and methodical in electing only the most corrupt scumbags to office, especially when it comes to the governorship. Perhaps no other member of the union boasts a better track record of crooked politicians than Illinois, save maybe New Jersey and Louisiana.

It’s rather startling to fathom one state successfully electing such brazen thieves time and time again, an ultimate exercise of participatory democratic destruction. Nevermind the occasional successes like, say, a Durbin or an Obama – Illinois embraces the notion of unsavory, untrustworthy government  and should be commended for its ardent devotion to a single set of ideals.

How rebellious. How adventurous. How non-partisan.

You see, as news breaks of Democratic Governor Rod Blagojevich’s arrests on too many counts of corruption to trouble the WordPress servers with, one must appreciate how bipartisan Illinois corruption really is, for his arrest comes as his predecessor rots in federal prison for racketeering and fraud.

Blagojevich, the silly son of a bitch he is, actually campaigned on, get this, cleaning up the despicable mess left by Republican Governor George Ryan. And, of course, he won!

But, contrary to Blagojevich’s charming beliefs, Illinois didn’t put him in office because they yearned for change, but, rather, because they knew he was just the man to perpetuate the seedy ways of Ryan. Indeed, having realized this soon after the inauguration, Blagojevich embarked on his own term of terror, cutting deals with any and every company with a checkbook.

And Blagojevich, God bless his soul, became so proud of his work in corruption that he fancied extending a dirty hand to the nation’s capitol, offering up the Senate seat left open by Obama’s election to the highest bidder. Now that’s government we can believe in.

It’s now a shame that Blago won’t be around to see what his great work in corruption means to his beloved home state, the Land of Lincoln. But we know this. We know the citizens of Illinois always have a crook lurking in the shadows, and his replacement will perhaps be an even bigger piece of shit than him.

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Alert:Boy George is creepier than we thought

Considering the Weird…

Turns out Boy George is the one hurting people these days.

The disturbed pervert, who stormed through the fame gates with his 1980s songs “Karma Chameleon” and “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me”, was found guilty today of falsely imprisoning one of his teammates from the coke-addled porn stars.

Turns out Georgie lured his unsuspecting victim back to the crib after a porn shoot (creepy), handcuffed him to a wall (creepier), and then proceeded to beat him into submission with a chain (creepy, yes, but also wrong as hell).

The 47-year-old cross dresser reportedly hatched the wicked scheme in retaliation for his victim refusing to sleep with him when they originally met, which highlights just how jumbled Boy George’s head is.

The two starred together in a raunchy pino before heading back to a nasty love palace where handcuffs and chains and lotions awaited, yet George was ticked about not getting that weeks or months or whatever beforehand…Wow.

Just doesn’t make any damn sense. But, then again, neither do songs about chameleons, so what do I know.

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The Juice faces 6 years to life – The squeeze is on

Considering the News…

O.J. can set the golf clubs down and grab a trash pick, because the only greens he’ll be seeing for awhile will be roadside ditch weeds as he stabs at McDonald’s sacks  in his neon orange vest.

Yes sir, the Juice is finally doing time. Six years to life, in fact. Should be brutal. Especially as he sits in his unfinished cell block trying to wrap his meager mind around the bewildering fact a man can actually do hard time for stealing his own shit. Simply dumbfounding, I know, Juice.

But all the glitter isn’t gold, as they say, and the sparks around O.J. Simpson’s once glorified life have faded faster than the 2008 Buffalo Bills.

Perhaps the Juice will use this opportunity to establish a new state of mind, one that doesn’t take orbit around his own greed and self-centered ambitions, one where ex-lovers become friends and fans find equal ground with stars.

Maybe he’ll find Jesus. Maybe he’ll find Allah. Maybe he’ll find Tito the lovely body builder from cell block 9.

Not sure. Nor do I care. The glove fit this time and they used it to keep hands clean while squeezing the freedom juice from Simpson’s fantasy world. Ain’t life grand, that so many can find peace and joy in the unnecessary sorrows of such a confused soul.

oj-simpson-tv-book-special-hypothetical-11-16-2006   

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Women politicians aren’t all stupid

Considering the News…

lleana Ros-Lehtinen might live her life paranoid as a first-time overnight prison guest, but at least she doesn’t suffer from dumb. No, the Republican congresswoman from Florida is sharp, crafty, witty, eloquent, familiar with the U.S. Constitution…

Hell, those traits are mere hearsay, and I have no evidence to support those claims. But whether Ros-Lehtinen is a valedictorian or a varsity football team bicycle is no concern of mine, for at least we know she’s a pure-hearted skeptic, willing to insult the President-elect to preserve whatever dignity she might fancy herself to have.

When Barack Obama extended a benevolent hand across the aisle, Ros-Lehtinen slapped it down like Barry was making an sleazy pass at her thighs. Reports indicate that Obama, then Rahm Emanuel, attempted to phone Ros-Lehtinen, only to hear echos and a freaking click.

There was no malicious intent on her part, Ros-Lehtinen simply thought some limp-dicks from a local radio station were trying to make light of her. Sensing it might be a prank phone call, she played hardball right backand hung up on the bastards…Only it was the next President.

Embarrassing for her, yes. But not quite as humiliating as, say, a clueless Alaskan moosetress believing President Sarkozy of France truly gives two shits and wants to wish her well on the campaign trail. Because, you know, that would be quite the blemish on an otherwise sterling common sense track record.

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Home Shopping Network crime spree – When will the madness end?

Considering the News…

The Home Shopping Network is renowned for its worldly products and seductive bargains…We’re not only going to slash the original price, but we’re going to take another 25 dollars off and throw in a Russian made-for-order bride and a Swiss Army knife to the next 50 callers…Who can beat that? You can’t. You won’t.

You see, there’s successful business models, piss-poor business models, and then there’s the Home Shopping Network – the house of essentials glistening on a staged hill.

Marketing and advertising are unshakable staples of the consumer economy, yet the Home Shopping Network has thrived by taking chances, testing limits like Rosie O in spandex at a $7.95 Chinese buffet. Indeed, HSN doesn’t market in the traditional sense, like say, Hardees jamming the double bacon monster burger down the throats of the imminent triple-bypass crowd…too damn easy. The strategy of short-sighted simpletons.

Instead, at HSN, the actual product is the marketing.

Sexy vixens massaging fishing poles. Loquacious butchers slicing scintillating Omaha steaks. Sexy vixens massaging lotions into palms and forearms, lotions with which one might massage and lotion other things. Loquacious butchers now drilling through 28 stuffed Turduckens. Sexy vixen massaging Omaha steaks.

Doesn’t matter what the product is, just who’s drilling, slicing or cradling the thing. And it works. It’s entertaining. Enlightening. Addictive. How addictive, you ask…

A former bank teller who pleaded guilty to embezzlement told investigators she was addicted to a cable TV shopping network.

Cassandra Ryder, a former teller at the Branch Banking & Trust (BB&T) in Copperhill, Tenn., said she often purchased items from the network with the embezzled funds.

Ryder was sentenced Monday to 15 months in prison for embezzling $134,000 between January 2005 and September 2007

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The Detroit Auto Clowns – Trimming the Fat Cats

Considering the News…

The incompetent stooges of Detroit’s big three are waxing their bikini lines and preparing for another vulgar swimsuit competition before the drunken judges of congress. I suspect the future holds some lap dances for dollars, erotic cries for mercy, and whispers of sweet, sweet nothings into any open ear this side of Chevy Chase.

And it’s all a bitter lie more transparent than the reformed addicts of Hollyweird. (Hey! But these humbled lugs are coming in earnest this time! They’ve even sold off half the private jets to buy Toyota hybrids! These guys are driving to Washington!) Well, that’s a sizzling lump of bullshit.

These flabby cats are bopping into town in a damn clown car and we’re expected to shell out 34 Billion for the performance. Maybe if those pampered scoundrels pulled up in a Greyhound, because even Sarah Palin can take a 16-week course on common sense, but she’s not passing the final without smearing some serious lipstick.

So I say congress relocates that old dusty box of jock straps and do what any respectable sports program would do when sweeping tides pull a good name into the deep waters of underachievement…Fire the bastards and start fresh.

You want America to bail out your company? Sure, we’ll help you. Let’s start by getting a competent coaching staff to replace these clueless hacks.

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Sarah Palin told me to do it – Psychiatric evaluation ensues

Considering the News…

God is a mysterious being – no one denies that – but His actions have been quite questionable as of late.

First it was letting Sarah Palin in on the secret that His “Will” inspired Americans to rid the earth of all terrorists. Then it was telling Sarah Palin the prospects for a 2012 run look good. And now He’s even telling truckers to patrol traffic, stopping at nothing to get the lousy drivers off the road.

At least one vigilante driver took God’s wishes to heart, as a San Antonio trucker rammed his truck into some woman’s ride because the Man Upstairs told him “she needed to be taken off the road.”

Apparently God is so far ahead of schedule these days He’s now extended the list of sins to include shitty driving. Right.

Well, we can already see where this is heading. Pleading insanity was a 1990s thing. Now “God’s Will” is the new best defense for criminal believers and lunatics. Which leads me to conclude I should attend service more often. Get in touch with God. See if he can’t tell me to rob a bank or knock off a few convenience shops. Guess He only contacts the good and the righteous. Damn.

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Things you can’t say in Colorado – Your lady is a tramp

Considering the News…

One has to wonder how the hell Hunter S. Thompson ever got away with living in Colorado. The guy should have done some serious time…and not just for the abundance of mind-bending drugs and explosives…Thompson’s typewriter should have gotten him locked up thrice daily.

The news out of Fort Collins is that some 40-year-old buster was arrested for, get this reader, calling his lady a lousy whore on Craigslist. Ok, perhaps his rhetoric was a weeee-bit more libelous than that (He actually claimed she was giving her lawyer the business in exchange for legal representation), but it sets a startling precedent either way you lube the shaft.

You see, people just don’t get arrested for saying, writing, or publishing that kind of twisted shit these days. Wrists are slapped. Retractions are printed. Apologies are faked. But no one gets 18 months in the “fun shower” for calling his lady a no-good, meddling tramp on the damn “Raves and Rants” section of Craigslist. Maybe in China. Maybe in North Korea. Maybe those blasted Russians even take a pinky toe to prove a point.

But under no circumstances should any American face time for calling a loved one an easy skank – no matter how ludicrous the claims. This is a classic case of “Slander per se”  since the guy challenged a woman’s “chastity,” however, such ugly claims are made in every middle school, high school, college, and redneck-infested watering hole 365 days a year.  

Should this truly warrant one’s imprisonment? Do we have room for this in American prisons? Do you, reader, personally know anyone outside of your grandmother who hasn’t called someone a whore, even in jest, at one time or twelve others?

You see, the worst part is the actual wording of the Colorado statute that made this arrest possible…Any words “tending to blacken the memory of one who is dead” or to “expose the natural defects of one who is alive, and thereby to expose him to public hatred, contempt or ridicule.”

Jesus! Pretty damn vague if you ask me. Seems quite a few could be picked up on this. The people of Colorado better act fast and fix this preposterous speech limitation, lest they wish to winnow away their remaining days in complete solitude and silence.

And as for Mr. Man with the filthy mind – perhaps he should consider reading up on John Peter Zenger and private investigators before his hearing, because if his lady is as naughty as he claims, this could be a quick and easy defense.

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