A Mental Disconnect

Lately in my pursuits of the unsavory I have noticed a serious disconnect between what I really want and what I’m inclined to want, or as Murphy Moore put it “what I want, and what I want to want”.  What I want is generally my natural inclinations, and what I want to want is the result of intellectual decisions.  So that makes me wonder is intellect an amazing tool, or cruel joke perhaps?

There You Go Again, McCain

Insert Pun About Mastery of Debate Here

In case I don’t post anything longer about it, here are a couple quick notes on the presidential debate, most of them in reference to errors or distortions, historical or otherwise, that McCain made:

-Claim: Reagan refused to meet Soviet leaders with no preconditions and it took Gorbachev’s glastnost and perestroika reforms for Reagan to finally have talks.
When Reagan was recuperating in the hospital following his assassination attempt, he wrote a letter to Brezhnev suggesting they meet and directed Alexander Haig to send it along. Haig read it and said something to the effect of “This isn’t our policy.” Reagan, a bit taken aback, smiled and replied “Well, it’s my policy!” Eventually, it was sent along, but Brezhnev, who by this time had already been revived from death more than once and who had long since left most of the duties of running the government to Andropov and others, unsurprisingly declined. After Brezhnev kicked the bucket, Andropov got his turn running the USSR and Reagan tried again. No luck, Andropov died of kidney disease shortly into his term and was followed by Chernenko. Again, Reagan tried. Again, the Soviet leader died fairly quickly. Gorbachev came to power in 1985. Reagan met him in 1985.  This is what’s called “The Geneva Summit.” This occurred before most of Gorbachev’s reforms got off the ground. McCain’s claim is patently false.

-Claim: Pakistan was a failed state when Musharraf’s coup overthrew the democracy.
Well…highly corrupt, yes, but a failed state? This characterization usually applies to countries like Afghanistan and Somalia. Pakistan was nowhere near as bad off as either of those – indeed, there basically is no state power in either Afghanistan or Somalia. Is this a more subjective criticism? Certainly, since it depends on one’s definition of a failed state. But I still think it’s salient.

-Not exactly a claim, but: McCain expressing disbelief at Obama’s claim that Ahmadinejad is not the most powerful person in Iran. Obama is right, Ahmadinejad is not the most powerful person in Iran. Ayatollah Khamenei is. The Ayatollah controls foreign and nuclear policy, and can fire Ahmadinejad at any time he wishes. True, the fact that he hasn’t fired him may mean he approves of what he is saying. But the fact that he also hasn’t thrown Ahmadinejad’s more pragmatic or centrist opponents out of parliament suggests to me that he probably doesn’t have strong opinions on it either way. Despite all Ahmadinejad’s raving about Israel (perhaps he actually believes what he says, perhaps he’s just appeasing his base, or both), all he really controls is domestic policy. Khamenei has been in power since Ayatollah Khomeini, modern Iran’s founder, died – he’s a smooth political operator, and although its certainly possible they are developing nuclear weapons, I find it hard to believe Khamenei would ever use them.
This, however, is a more nebulous issue. Although I don’t think Iran possessing nukes presents an existential threat to Israel (mostly because if they ever used them it would mean Iran’s utter annihilation, and they know that), I can see the argument of Israel: the last time some idiot was raving about how Jews needed to be destroyed, he actually followed through with it. For them, it’s a risk they simply can’t take. Ultimately, I don’t know where I stand on Iran’s nuclear program – but I think that it would behoove our next president to know who the person who really pulls all the strings in Iran is; that is, Ayatollah Khamenei. And it doesn’t help that we give a free pass to Israel on everything, including their foot dragging on all things Palestine related.

A slap on the wrist for both Obama and McCain for perpetuating a fairly flawed view of the Russia-Georgia war. Yes, Russia was provoking the hell out of Georgia for months by issuing Russian passports to citizens of Abkhazia and South Ossetia, among other things. Yes, Russia has always been sort of an asshole to the more independent minded former Soviet Republics that ring it. For further evidence, see their support of Moldova’s breakaway republic Trandniestria, their treatment of Estonia, and their generally obstreperous behavior towards anyone that does not toe the Moscow line. But the fact is, the two breakaway regions in Georgia had been de facto independent since the early 1990’s. Georgia was the one who started the conflict by trying to reassert control over these areas, neither of which even want to be a part of Georgia or are majority ethnic Georgian.

But an extra slap on the wrist for McCain and his league of democracies idea. Such a league would of course exclude corrupt or highly restrictive democracies like Russia, Venezuela, and Iran, but also democracies that are technically squeaky clean but we find distasteful because of their opposition to the US, like Bolivia and Ecuador, or their authoritarian but otherwise legitimate nature, like Singapore. And, of course, it would include our little friend Georgia. For the same reason that Georgia should not join NATO, they shouldn’t join a league of democracies. You never, never want to be obligated or expected to help an ally who has pervasive territorial conflicts. But even aside from that, a league of democracies would make the UN even more irrelevant than it already is, insulate the US, and discourage diplomacy with countries. You don’t have to be an idealist to believe that diplomacy can solve problems. Isolating ourselves from the parts of the world that we dislike will not be productive in the least.

P.S.  Didn’t feel like footnoting this whole thing, but if anyone wants the bibliography I’ll post it as a comment.

LaBruzzo’s Immodest Proposal

After seeing the suffering of the poor in the low income areas of Louisiana after Katrina and recently with Hurricane Gustav, Louisiana State Representative John LaBruzzo was moved to action. Now this action does not involve offering fiscal aid, rebuilding homes or businesses in affected areas, or even providing health care to the recently displaced. LaBruzzo looked out on this impoverished area and thought “We have far too many poor people.” And instead of considering how to help these people rise from their current financial circumstances, his proposal suggests just to get rid of the poor people as best we can. Since it would be tricky to get rid of them in one foul swoop we will have to stop them from reproducing. To be fair, he is offering a monetary incentive for sterilization, so the recipients will be slightly less poor once they have been sterilized.

I hope that Representative LaBruzzo means well, and perhaps he never read Swift’s, “Proposal”. At this point it sounds as though Swift might have had at least a more inventive and opportunistic idea. If we were eating the low income offspring then we would be contributing to their livelihood and creating a market for something only they have the means to produce (well not the offspring’s livelihood, because they would be lunch, but you get the idea). But I digress.

This was not LaBruzzo’s only suggestion on how to ease the strain on the welfare system. On what seems to be a completely unrelated note, he suggested that college-educated, high-earning couples should receive monetary incentives to procreate. While this seems like a good idea, considering that college-educated couples tend to reproduce at slower rates than people with lower levels of education, it really doesn’t seem to have anything to do with welfare. If people who are not on welfare have more children I don’t get the impression that it will somehow stop people currently on welfare from having children. This is not a zero sum situation; it’s not that high-earners are thinking “Well I’d like to have kids, but Suzy from the projects just had one, so I don’t see how we can right now”. It seems as though LaBruzzo sat through half of a sociology lecture on current family issues and chose to create policies based on this experience. Half listening to statistics and creating policy from that brief experience. This suggestion serves to illuminate his feelings about the poor population of Louisiana. LaBruzzo’s mind-set of cultural superiority ooze through his proposal and taint his suggestions.

Hopefully, someone in Washington will come up with better solutions to our economic crises, like perhaps having a lemonade stand or a huge bake sale, I’m sure that will help.

 

Is There Anything Better Than Saggy Titties?

I believe not.

I had thought about keeping the story to myself and three other people, but I decided that everyone else might get a kick out of it as well. Plus, Moore condemned me for telling him the story instead of blogging about it. So here it is folks. Enjoy.

Work on Sunday was one of the greatest days in my life. It was chaotic towards the end, but the first half hour I was in a state of pure bliss.

My first table was swooped up by another waiter and while he was greeting the customers I decided to reclaim them. I had a good feeling about this table. So I sauntered up and put my hand on his shoulder and told him along with the rest of the table, “So you’re schmoozing on my table I see?” The customers looked confused. Jeff, the waiter, then apologized and slipped back to his hole of failure. The ladies started to cheer. They approved my way of getting what is rightfully mine.

So I told them that it is a new day and era. They all laughed. Now, this isn’t a table of young folk or even middle aged. These fine people where past that. Past their prime, on their way to their deathbeds, but apparently going out in classy style.

So I started the table off with introducing myself and whatnot, the regular routine. I didn’t think that they would take so kindly to me and we started to have a battle of wits and sarcasm.

“So, Ho is your name is it? Well now I know who to talk about to the manager when the service is horrible. Unless you can get us out of the bill.”

“Well sir, maybe if you slip me something under the table, we can work things out. But let me inform you, if you do that, it will more than likely cost you more than the bill would.”

Laughter rose up and other customers stared at us. I think they were wishing that they had a waitress as fun as I. So the gentlemen asked how short was a short, and how tall was a tall when ordering a beer. I just replied that a short is too short. Needing to keep their masculinity, they all ordered talls. The women ordered Jungle Coladas, which is just a smoothie with maybe about 1-1 1/2 shots of Whalers dark rum. A light drink.

So the orders were in, and the drinks were set, and things were running smoothly. I walk back to the table about five minutes later to check on them. The elderly lady, (about 83), had already finished her tasty beverage. She was pretty drunk. I regret not asking her for her name. I checked to see if anyone needed refills, the men nodded and the women passed. The elderly lady wanted another one, but decided that if she had one more she’d be on the floor. So she started drinking someone else’s drink instead. Charming she is.

Then the most wonderful thing in restaurant history happened. I am still shocked and wonder to myself this very day if this even actually took place. But it did.

The elderly lady began to lift up her shirt and I thought that she was adjusting it. I was making small talk about what I wanted to do with my life, become a surgeon or become a pharmacist, and why I wanted to get into the medical field with some of the men. Then I turned to the others and BOOM.

It was like being bitch slapped in the face then being beaten with a pimp cane. Magnificent. It was totally magically and such a great experience.

She had flashed the table.

The table went up in a roar of laughter. I just stared. What do you do? It’s one of those moments where you tell yourself to look away and look away now, but you can’t. You’re body is completely motionless and silence falls all around you. You block out the sound that is all around you and your mind goes completely blank except for trying to regurgitate saggy titties. They all laughed and laughed and it was just a moment of heartfelt happiness. I loved it.

After the bill was paid, and the table was leaving, I held the door open for them like how I always do for customers I like. Some of the men told me about grandsons they think would be perfect for me. I replied with the kindest words I knew. They all hugged me and the women kissed me on the cheek biding me farewell and the best of luck to finding my biological mother. I hope they come back.

What This Country Needs is a Monarch (and Another Baby Geniuses Sequel)

Sweden’s Solution to Their Economic Crisis? Adding a Fifteenth Type of Recycling Bin

Actually, no. But there is an interesting piece in the New York Times today about how their government coped with a similar deregulation-induced lending/housing frenzy and subsequent crash that has once again made me pine for the land of recycling, atheism, Absolut vodka, and internet piracy. I would probably like to read a little more about the whole situation from a few other sources before I commence dry humping a photo of King Gustaf and quietly moaning their national anthem (I had thought their crash had more to do with the implosion of the neighboring Soviet Union), but it offers an interesting (and convincing) diagnosis and prescription. It certainly seems a little more reasonable than the plan Hank Paulson is pitching and its unsettling 32-word ass-covering clause.

More Search Term Goodness

Well slap her with your firm pimp hand then, son!

redundancy rant

There is a grammatical abomination so vile it grinds my teeth and loads my shotgun. I am not referring to the common [and equally serious] travesties like there, they’re, their, your, you’re, its, and it’s. No friends, I speak of the persistent misconstruing of common and obvious acronyms. Conveniently, the two standouts in this category are highly related. So for the last time:

There is no such thing as an “ATM machine”, and it does not accept “PIN numbers”

Should you wish to continue propagating this destructive folly, by all means. I rarely have the opportunity to shoot anything.

As a side note, does anyone recall the Windows 2000 boot up screen advertising “Based on NT technology”? (for the uninitiated, NT stands for New Technology)

And What Rough Beast, Its Hour Come Round At Last, Gathers Round the Good Stuff?

Who Would’ve Thought This Awful Pasta Is Actually From Pizza Hut?

Ladies and gentlemen, we live in the golden age of Pizza Hutting. The past few months have seen a spate of ads which feature a series of average joes and janes walking into a classy restaurant, being fed lousy food, and being absolutely shocked-SHOCKED!-that it is actually Pizza Hut. Or Carl’s Jr. Or Windows Vista. Edward Bernays is either laughing his ass off or kicking himself for not thinking of this. Either way, he’s doing it in hell.

Like Penn and Teller’s admittedly unscientific “tests” that revolve around humiliating pretentious socialites by feeding them dog food in a classy restaurant and telling them it’s a delicacy (kind of a reverse Pizza Hutting), these commercials are effective because they show us how frequently misguided our conceptions of a product are. The power that suggestion has upon influencing a person’s opinion is immense. Some people will, despite the nauseous grimacing, tell you (and themselves honestly believe) that the pile of garbage they are eating is delicious if they believe it’s fine cuisine. And many times, provided the revelation of the true nature of the meal isn’t too embarrassing, people will roll with it, have a laugh, and enjoy another cheesy thin crust pizza.

As usual, the free market has failed to realize or apply the glorious civic possibilities of what they have discovered. Like an untrained palate making first contact with sturgeon caviar, the woefully uninformed electorate is occasionally repulsed by new and different ideas – that is, until you tell it that it’s wholesome, American, and associated with their political party (the ideology of which they tend not to fully grasp). Some say that America is a center-right country. That’s probably true, but I would like to see it put to the test. I want to Pizza Hut a bunch of likely voters. Give them a menu of policy positions, ask them which ones they prefer, then defy them to correctly associate them with the party that tends to espouse those views. It’s not unlikely that after being presented a choice between right-wing and left-wing positions they’ll choose the former. But there’s still the chance that when presented with the lefty policies I hold so dear, they may start to see in them what I see in them and begin bringing about the changes that I (and many other degenerate left-coasters) think this country needs. But hell, even if they don’t, at least they’ll know what the fuck they are talking about and why they are in the political party that they are in. I remember the Dairy Queen in my hometown rechristened their french fries “freedom fries” after 9/11. God bless ‘em for trying, but if they really wanted to show how patriotic they were, they would Pizza Hut the living hell out of the voting public.

Still, it’s best not to put all my faith eggs in one delicious, deep dish basket. If the findings of this daring duo of political scientists are to be believed – and I think they are – it might take more than a simple pizza parlor trick to precipitate a 1980 style political realignment. In the meantime, I’ll be slouching towards Pizza Hut to be shorn another few bucks for a salty pile of sauce and cheese.

Dreams of the past…

We can all agree it is somewhat better to live today than the past.  But I was thinking and I suppose dreaming of how much more entertaining the presidential race would be back when real politicians ran.  If you forget about the fact that McCain would be dead, and Obama would… well he’s black.  I’m talking about the good times where a dude could challenge a dude to a duel for calling him a tallywhacker. (not because of shorter life expectancy and slavery, you negative nancy)   And they shot at each other.  Fuck yeah!  Guns and shit.  I think today because of the “law” or something like that they avoid this honorable pasttime, and we all suffer.  One of those unmentioned checks and balances built into the American government that got shut down bit by bit. Think about it, would a politician be a jerkoff if he was going to be legally gunned down?  A boy can dream.  Well, we don’t live in this happier time I’m thinking of, and I have stopped caring about this current presidential thing.  Balls.  8===D~

I’m the Angel Cat, motherfuckers

I've got wings, bitches.

Ho Yu’s Yoda Cat post reminded me of this badass motherfucker. I know that posting anything cat picture related on the internet is risky business, but one can never have too many mutant cat monsters.

It is caused by a mutation that causes vestigial limb structures cats have near their front shoulders to grow into badass fucking wings. It’s rare, but not unheard of, 20 some cats have been confirmed with this mutation, the minimum number to be granted a wikipedia entry by their human overlords. Sadly, while being in no way a hindrance to winged cats, there is no benefit, either. Except that they have fucking wings. If I grew vestigial wings, I’d be stoked.

“Hey, I’m an emissary from God. Wanna fuck?”

Yoda: The Cat With Four Ears

So I was just browsing through a few different articles from bizzarre.com to chron.com. Then I found this guy:

I want it. Let's catnap that pussy.

That’s right. A cat with four ears. He was found at an English bar being passed around by the customers being made fun of. That’s when Valerie and Ted Rock stepped in. They soon adopted the cat and named him Yoda for his pointy ears.

This pussy gets move coverage than the kind in porn. It receives calls from Good Morning America, Fox News, and even the Tyra Banks show, (Tyra, by the way, needs to drop off the face of the earth).

This genetic mutation has given Yoda supersonic hearing. He can hear the scratching of a mouse from about 4.3 miles away even with slight winds blowing. Though his new found popularity and hearing have sparked publicity, he is still just as cuddly and down to earth as any other cats. Are cats really down to earth?

^I just made that last bit up. I’m sure those ears don’t do anything more than just a strange appearance but it would be freaking awesome if it did. But I’m sure he’s still a cuddly cat.

My Current Retirement Plan & A Fun Story Where Everyone Learns a Life Lesson

Bhuty Call

Unlike some of the rabid Ron Paul supporters who swarm around the UCSB campus, I don’t want to return to the 19th century. For more than a few Americans, life after the Civil War was subsistence farming or hellish toil in a dimly lit factory. Far from the iconic image of a bronzed and glistening farmer eating fresh vegetables while gazing pensively at a beautiful sunset after a hard day’s work, having subsistence agriculture as one’s main mode of employ would actually be pretty fucking miserable. That is why it’s all the more shocking that the people of Bhutan, who for the most part earn their living that way, have been found by various studies to be some of the happiest in the world. The phrase “Gross National Happiness,” which was coined by their monarch some years ago, has in recent years become an actual way of quantifying how successful a country is. If the contents of the last several volumes of the Journal of Bhutan Studies are any indication, the Bhutanese themselves are absolutely obsessed with the shit. Some of that pride probably stems from the fact that this is one of the few indicators that would characterize their country as a success, but also because an indicator like that goes a long way in legitimizing whatever they have been doing for the past 100 years and affirming their culture and way of doing things. Despite the relative poverty of Bhutan (GDP per head is about $1300), their citizens are purportedly happier than those in most European countries. Bhutan comes in at #8 on a list of the world’s happiest nations.

So after the world’s economy collapses and everyone is banging on the gates of the Scandinavian countries begging to be let in so they can enjoy the awesome benefits of their efficient Nordic welfare states, I know where I’m headed. I’m not a naive westerner with Orientalist-notions about living it out in a bucolic Shangri-la; I know it’s going to be a hard-scrabble existence of meager rations and plowing fields. But somehow whatever is in the air or water over there will convince me that I’m completely contended. According to wikipedia, the main border crossing between Bhutan and India is guarded by only two people. I’m pretty sure I can take them.

I’m Not a Stalker, Just a Highly Engaged Anthropological Observer

One of my friends and I spent the last few hours of my time in Florida investigating what came up when we googled our screen names/general internet handles. Mine by far returned more embarrassing results, including some book reviews I’d written in high school with spectacularly nerdy recommendations and a “parody religion” I had made in middle school whose object of worship was an N64 game. I hadn’t been to the site since 1999 (when I made it) and didn’t really suspect anyone else had either, so it came as a great surprise that someone had posted on it as recently as 2006.

The mysterious poster called us all idiots, said our site wasn’t funny, and told us that we should all get lives. What the hell? Even though I would acknowledge the site is stupid, come on – I made it when I was 12. I resolved to track the bastard down and rub in his face the obvious irony that he had gone to the trouble of calling people losers on a site that had not had any visitors or updates for seven years. Using the e-mail associated with his forum account as my starting point, over the next hour or so I managed to find out the following about my new friend:

-His name, location, birth date, familial situation, and alma mater
-His likes (anime, gaming, the film Ghostbusters) and dislikes (his town, his job, some guy at his high school)
-His hobbies (drawing, writing manga)

All relatively conventional stuff, at least for someone who spends a lot of time on the internet. After digging a little deeper, though, I found that he:

-Has a sneezing fetish and frequents a forum dedicated to the celebration of said fetish
-Writes bondage-themed homosexual Dragon Ball Z fan fiction
-He lives in a new, sparsely populated area and feels very alone

Ok, now I felt a little bad. Not because he has somewhat unconventional sexual proclivities, but because he probably didn’t want any of his friends to know about it, much less a stranger bent on humiliating him. Now I had a more complete picture of the guy: he wasn’t just an unfunny, Ghostbusters-quoting wiseass who trolled message boards, but a (mostly) normal guy who felt really alienated and yearned to go back to San Francisco, his original hometown, and start a new life. Partially because of the relative anonymity of the internet and because of this guy’s idiotic behavior, I had found it pretty easy to dehumanize him. In my quest for vengeance, though, I unwittingly shed the blinders that allowed me to envision him as a fat dork in need of comeuppance. At the end of the day, after finding a veritable gold mine of humiliating information, I no longer wanted revenge. So rather than reveal his name to the world or torment him via e-mail, I think I’ll leave him anonymous. Maybe I’ll even warn him. I would hate to lose a job because my employer did a background check and found out all my dirty secrets. They’re not exactly on par with having a sneeze fetish, but I still don’t want the wider world to know I had recommended Yasser Seirawan’s Winning Chess Strategies back in 2002.

Mccain/Palin Wikipedia Vandalism Fun

Now, first of all, I want to make it clear that I do not condone vandalism on Wikipedia at all. It’s childish and stupid as a lot of people depend on this information for various legitimate uses. Since I have that out of the way, I would like to share this really fucking hilarious Mccain/Palin Wikipedia vandalism that I just uncovered. On my regularly scheduled article browsing I eventually stumbled on the article for the classic 1913 play by George Bernard Shaw, Pygmalion. Upon reading the article I checked the Adaptations subsection. I noticed the usual expected list of adaptations including one very interesting medium for an adaptation of a play.

• Hoi Polloi (1935), a film adaptation by The Three Stooges
• Pygmalion (1938), a film adaptation by Shaw.
• My Fair Lady (1956), the Broadway musical by Lerner and Loewe, based on the 1938 film.
• My Fair Lady (1964), a film version of the musical starring Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison.
• Trading Places (1983), a comedy film starring Eddie Murphy, Dan Aykroyd and Jamie Lee Curtis.
• Pretty Woman (1990), a modern film take on Pygmalion starring Julia Roberts and Richard Gere.
• The John McCain presidential campaign, 2008, starring Sarah Palin and John McCain.

Upon further scanning of the article and about five minutes of uncontrollable laughter at the inherent truth in the current political situation, I came across another gem under the References In Pop Culture section.

• In The Fresh Prince of Bel Air episode “Kiss My Butler”, Geoffrey uses Naomi Campbell’s accent to work out her precise residence in London, although he is mistaken by one block. This is a reference to the way that people’s accents were used to identify their location within London in the play.
• In The Simpsons episode “Pygmoelian“, Moe Szyslak has cosmetic surgery in order to be socially accepted. The show also made reference to Pygmalion in the episode “My Fair Laddy” where Lisa Simpson makes a bet with her brother Bart Simpson that she can turn Groundskeeper Willie into a proper gentleman by the school science fair.
• In the Boy Meets World episode “Turnaround”, Cory and Shawn enlist the help of a friend to turn Cory’s date to the dance popular. Shawn gets the idea from reading Pygmalion in English Class.
• In 2008, John McCain nominated Eliza Doolittle to be his VP candidate.

Well, you know what they say; you can put lipstick on a Pygmalion but…

Perm Wikipedia Link

Fucking Assholes.

I titled this to hopefully help with the Google search for the sake of our blog. And I do apologize for the crude language.

But, one of my customers was a bit of an ass. I don’t think me meant much by it, because he is older.

Here’s the story:

I am Asian. Korean, more specifically (yes this does have relevance to what the story is about). Two couples sitting in one of booths in the section that I waited on tonight came in with the same expectations as any customers do. I have never had a problem racially wise with the customers that I wait on, but I have had problems with the ones that I don’t. He looked to be about mid-eighties and was hunched over like a giant hand was curving him towards the ground. A pudgier little thing with hair so white it would be able to blend nicely with snow.

None of them were all that talkative until the food came out. He made small talk with me like how most of the elderly community does. We touched upon school and I told him that I was studying to become a pharmacist but might be leaning more on the side of a surgeon. He automatically thought that I was trying to become a surgeon’s nurse. So I lied to him and made up some story about different nursing schools that I wanted to go to. He told me that he thought I would make a good nurse, which was sweet of him if that’s the career I was actually intending to get into. Now I figured that he must have misheard me because I did, in fact, had to repeat my name several times before he got it right. After we talked I pretended that I was busy so I could go socialize with myself seeing that I didn’t feel like speaking very much with my co-workers. Except asking them if they would sign the letter I am going to write to PETA.

On a different note, I have so far sixteen yeses and one maybe.

Back to the story: I came back to check on how the food was tasting and to refill some of the beverages. The little man looked at me and said that his friend over there was trying to use chopsticks. I didn’t have much to say so I asked how she did. He said that she did okay, and then she pointed to what chopsticks she used, acting as if the type of chopsticks played a role in how awful she was at using them. I pretended to laugh and he laughed as well not picking up the hint. Then he told me that he thinks that I would do a much better job because I am Asian. Huh. Well, I am Asian, and he’s right. I would do a better job.

This actually doesn’t offend me, (whoa, I just tried to spell offend with an “a”), but figured it was good enough to blog about. Other than that, I don’t have much to say except I am feeling extreme pleasure that my Peta project is soon to go under way.

There was a video that I was going to post, but I forgot what it was plus my youtube isn’t working at the moment.

I have a feeling that I am going to get shit about this blog. Don’t worry, I am preparing myself.

top ten reasons why you aren’t reading this

10.) live in cave
9.) perpetually unmotivated
8.) Nicolas Cage night on tnt
7.) suffering from a crushed skull
6.) fighting against PETA
5.) fighting for PETA
4.) lost everything in the market crash; too po’ for internet
3.) left universe by accidentally venturing through the 5th dimension.
2.) playing vector tower defense
1.) stupid

contemporary misgivings at the Forefront Crackporn

I noticed today that contemporary misgivings had another crack and porn related search engine referral, “naked crack smoking pictures” in addition to “women fucking and smoking crack”.  This can be attributed Esmé Pestel’s quirk of adding crack smoking to otherwise common porn search terms, which I have since endorsed.

Curious, I went on a general crack smoking and debauchery bender and searched for these terms. Here are the front page results from google:

:

We are doing quite well in the “women fucking and smoking crack” category, controlling both a direct link in the 5th slot and links to posts made exclusively by contemporary misgivings in numéro uno.  So if you want some variety, telling your friends to search for women fucking and smoking crack and hitting “I’m feeling lucky” is a viable alternative to just giving them the name of the blog.

We’re not doing quite as well in general nude crack smoking, but still manage to hit the first page ranking in at #9.  And look at that title; what kind of naked crack smoking enthusiast wouldn’t click the shit out of that?

All I can say is this could mean big things for contemporary misgivings and I applaud Esmé’s uncannily sagacious role in vaulting us to the top of the emerging crackporn genre.

 

Also, I’ve hired a two-man hitman and private eye team to take out the wordpress developer who made pressing the delete key in a fucking text editing box (albeit an empty one) be the same as hitting the back button.  If pressed in a text box, the delete key has business doing only 2 things: deleting shit or nothing at all.

Fun with Limericks.

Regarding the current election,
I have carefully made my selection.
Mccain likes to grunt
That his wife is a Cunt
And Mr. Obama just gives me an erection.

Apparently “Cunt” is on his mind quite a bit, here’s a clip from Howard Stern of him making a Freudian slip.

Anne Lamott: A Call To Arms

If anyone else is as frustrated with the current media frenzy around a certain vice presidential nominee as I am, then you will love this article from Anne Lamott.

We truly cannot afford to lose this one, especially not now. McCain, our oldest presidential nominee, has chosen as his running mate a woman who admitted to not following the war in Iraq and whose policies are awash with bad judgment. Along with that I simply don’t like her. She does, as Lamott states, seem to “take pride in her ignorance,” which is a character trait that we have had to put up with during the last eight years and I would rather not repeat.

Anyhow, enjoy the article. And if you feel proactive afterward, I’m joining forces with others in San Diego to bombard Nevada with phone calls and voter registries on behalf of Obama.

Oh and if the woman running for vice president had named me, I would be Comando Coalfire.

Sept. 16, 2008 | I had to leave church Sunday morning when it turned out that the sermon was not about bearing up under desperate circumstances, when you feel like you’re going crazy because something is being perpetrated upon you and your country that is so obscene that it simply cannot be happening.

I sat outside a 7-Eleven and had a sacramental Dove chocolate bar. Jeez: Here we are again. A man and a woman whose values we loathe and despise — lying, rageful and incompetent, so dangerous to children and old people, to innocent people in every part of the world — are being worshiped, exalted by the media, in a position to take a swing at all that is loveliest about this earth and what’s left of our precious freedoms.

When I got home from church, I drank a bunch of water to metabolize the Dove bar and called my Jesuit friend, who I know hates these people, too. I asked, “Don’t you think God finds these smug egomaniacs morally repellent? Recoils from their smugness as from hot flame?”

And he said, “Absolutely. They are everything He or She hates in a Christian.”

I have been in a better mood ever since, and have decided not to even say this woman’s name anymore, because she fills me with such existential doubt, such a sense of impending doom and disbelief, that only the Germans could possibly have words for it. Nor am I going to say the word “lipstick” again until after the election, as it would only be used against me. Or “polar bear,” because that one image makes me sadder than even horrible old I can stand.

I hate to criticize. And I love to kill wolves as much as the next person does. But this woman takes such pride in her ignorance, doesn’t have a doubt in the world about her messianic calling, that it makes anyone of decency feel nauseated — spiritually, emotionally and physically ill.

I say that with love. As we say in Texas. (Also, we say, “Bless her heart.”)

We felt this grief and nausea during the run-up to the war in Iraq. We felt it after the 2004 election. And now we feel it again.

But since there are still six weeks until the election, and since the stakes are as high as the sky, which should definitely not be forced to endure four more years of the same, we have got to get a grip. There are millions of people to register to vote, millions of dollars to be raised. We really cannot go around feeling flat and defeated, with the need to metabolize the rotten meat that this one particular candidate and the media have forced upon us.

One of the tiny metabolic suggestions I have to offer — if, like me, you choose not to have her name on your lips, like an oozy cold sore (I say that with love) — is to check out a Web site called the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator. There you can find out what she and her husband would have named you if you had been their baby. My name, Anne, for instance, would be Krinkle Bearcat. John, her running mate, would be named Stick Freedom. George would be Crunk Petrol. And so on.

First of all, go find out what your own name would be. Then for one day refuse to use the name of these people who are so damaging to earth and to our very souls — so, “I don’t have to understand anything, it’s all fuzzy math. Trust me. I’m the decider.” From now on, when working for Obama, talk about Obama, talk about his policies, the issues, the economy, the war in Iraq, poverty, the last eight years, Joe Biden. You don’t have to mention Crunk Petrol, or his sidekick, Shaver Razorback.

And you sure as hell don’t have to mention Claw Washout — she is absolutely, hands-down the most ludicrous person ever to be nominated. She’s a “South Park” character. There was a mix-up. Mistakes were made.

Everything you need to know about how to bear up during these two months is already inside you. Go within: Work on your own emotional acre. Stand still, and hurt, and feel crazy. Then drink a lot of water, pray, meditate, rest. Rest is a spiritual act. Now, I am a reform Christian, so it is permissible for me to secretly believe that God hates this woman, too. I heard God slam down a couple of shooters while she was talking the other night.

Figure out one thing you can do every single day to be a part of the solution, concentrating on swing states. Money, walking precincts, registering voters, whatever. This is the only way miracles ever happen — left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe. Right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe. The great novelist E.L. Doctorow once said that writing a novel is like driving at night with the headlights on: You can only see a little ways in front of you, but you can make the whole journey this way. It is the truest of all things; the only way to write a book, raise a child, save the world.

As my anonymous pal Krinkle Bearcat once wrote: Laughter is carbonated holiness. It is chemo. So do whatever it takes to keep your sense of humor. Rent Christopher Guest movies, read books by Roz Chast and Maira Kalman. Picture Stick Freedom in his Batman underpants, having one of his episodes of rage alone in one of his seven bedrooms. Or having one of his bathroomy little conversations with Froth Moonshine. (Bless their hearts.) Try to remember that even Karl Rove has accused him of being a lying suck.

Reread everything Molly Ivins and Jim Hightower ever wrote. Write down that great line of Molly’s, that “freedom fighters don’t always win, but they’re always right.” Tape it next to your phone.

Call the loneliest person you know. Go flirt with the oldest person at the bookstore.

Fill up a box with really cool clothes that you haven’t worn in a year, and take it to a thrift shop. Take gray water outside and water whatever is growing on your deck. This is not a bad metaphor to live by. I think it is why we are here. Drink more fluids. And take very gentle care of yourself and the people you most love: We need you now more than ever.

Do I Look Like a Whore?

I don’t understand it. It confuses me so as to why men stare and stare. I walk down the street and it’s nothing but men staring at me and either their wives or girlfriends glaring at me. Do you think that makes me feel comfortable? Do you think I take pride in being gawked at all day like a rare specimen?

I feel terribly bad for the girlfriends who have to put up with this. I don’t try to go out of my way to look extremely sexy and portray myself as a slut. I like to think that I actually dress pretty conservatively. With my entire body covered in clothing, why do so many men still stare?

And this is a process that I have to go through every morning. Yes, I wear makeup. But it is, in fact, very minimal compared to most girls my age.  My normal get up is a pair of pants, and normally a shirt, a shoes. I don’t go parading around in a short skirt with ugg boots, (which is so unappealing, so women please stop doing that), and I don’t try and shove my tits in my face to get them noticed.

I just got back from the nearest 7/11 right down the street, and there were a couple of painters working on a wall. One of them who was short and probably in his mid-fifties turned around while I was yards away and tried to get the glare of the sun out of his face so he could stare me. Now, at first I didn’t want to say anything to that because I don’t like to make the quick assumption that they are staring at me. But when I walked by, he gave me one of those head up nods and winked at me. I tried to pretend like I didn’t notice. So I walked off heading to the store to get my pack of smokes, feeling his eyes on me.

Then on the way back home he once again tried to nod at me. I still ignored this and walked on. Then while I was walking I asked myself, “Why do you keep letting them do this if you dislike it so?” That’s when I turned around and caught him watching me walking away.

So I walked back with a smile on my face and he took that as a sign that I am going to react positively to his wink and nods. He was wrong.

“Excuse me, I don’t want to come off sounding rude but I just wanted to let you know that I don’t particularly enjoy being stared at constantly. To me, it is a form of a man being more of a pig than a human being. Why do you stare at women? Probably because your wife is quite large and is sitting on her ass at home taking care of the seven children that you gave her. And I also am not that comfortable with you staring at me while I walk away. So next time, please remind yourself that ‘Oh, she might not like my low form of crudely hitting on her. Maybe I should stop,’ before a women finally slaps you across the face in front of all the other men standing around you. Are we in agreement here?”

“Oh….I..am..um..sorry.”

If you want to stare please refrain from doing so. If you think she’s hot, just tell her that you think she’s pretty. I would assume that a woman would rather hear a compliment than being so rudely stared at.

It just makes me think of that time that man grabbed at my rump. He deserved the sock in the face that I so brutally gave him, before running home scared.

Woman Fucked So Hard She Has a Stroke; Boyfriend Seeks Career in Porn Industry

“But zomgz it was totally worth it!” 

Ah, but I jest.  Strokes are serious business, and an orgasm did cause her stroke, but the 35 year-old was treated soon enough that she dodged all but very minor brain damage. All her symptoms were gone within 12 hours of treatment aside from a sore vag and a little lost dexterity in her left hand which wikipedia tells me should return with time. Sadly, I could find no data on how good the orgasm was, but I suspect it was fucking awesome, the kind where half your body goes numb.  (If find you that offensive, just remember that stroke and joke rhyme for a reason).

Now, I am trying to avoid writing posts that are little more than a reiteration/commentary of some other article (i.e. the “Blogosphere” a.k.a. redundancy, internet flotsam and shitsam repository), but this one was too good to pass up and two things in the article proper caught my attention.

The hilariously ironic part is that the initial symptoms of the stroke (which onset mid-orgasm) were the same as those exhibited by women (at least the ones in porn) during an incredible (or fake) orgasm; namely loud moaning, screaming, inability to speak or slurred speech.   I actually feel kind of bad for the guy – he probably felt proud until he realized what had happened. Then his dick fell off, because that’s what happens when you find out your dick damaged your girlfriend’s brain.

The second part, which is actually pretty fucked up, is that the woman DID suffer minimal brain damage in a situation where it could have been prevented.  The general rule of thumb in a stroke caused by a blood clot (as in the woman’s case) is that once blood flow stops, brain cells start shutting down in about a minute, but it can take several hours before a meaningful number of them start dying.  The stroke occurred 6 hours before she arrived at the hospital.  What the fuck?  How do you fuck up missing stroke symptoms? It doesn’t even matter if you know what they mean, when someone tells you in slurred speech that their shit is going numb, you get the fuck to a hospital.

My guess is either the boyfriend is just straight up stupid or they inexplicably live 6 hours from the nearest hospital.

However, I have a theory.  I think what happened was he misjudged his partner’s symptoms and pegged them not as a result of a stroke, but that he was giving her the best sex of her life.  The woman, due to the confusion caused by parts of her fucking brain fucking shutting the fuck down, was unable to alert him to the seriousness of her condition or that frankly, he could never hope to give her the best sex of her life.  Not until hours of one-sided sex later, as her symptoms worsened to the point that only half of her face was moving, did the boyfriend realize that something far more sinister was up and he should probably get the hell to a hospital.

Read the full story for details on how a heart defect 25% of people have allows for an orgasm or pooping to cause a stroke.  That’s right, shit with fear, my friends. Shit with fear. CBS News

He did to his girlfriend what I want to do to this Snorg Tees model.

Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad.

Fuck anyone who isn’t rolling with PETA.

Lets jump start this animal revolution! We have millions of animals slaughtered left and right every day even in America! More chickens have been killed by Americans than all the Jews by Hitler and all of the people in Stalin’s Great Purge combined. We need to rally these poor souls and get them to throw off the shackles and chicken coops of human oppression and finally make a stand together.  Then and only then can we finally construct a perfect utopia where animals have as much rights as humans. When the conflict is finally over we will hunt down the person responsible for these hate crimes against animal kind and bring them to justice. This is why we will need a great leader, one who understands what it’s like to be persecuted as animal.  He spent five years in a chicken coop of his own and the only feed he got was the gospel of our Lord. One who will do what is best for all animals everywhere. Here is our proposed leader, and his plan for hunting down and  bringing to justice whoever orchestrated this travesty.

Our leader is also affected by the ongoing animal holocaust and vows to hunt down those who perpetrated it.

In Defense of PETA

Let’s Get PETArded

It’s official, 17 September is now contemporary misgivings’ bash PETA day.  Before we all grab our pitchforks and torches and take to the streets, though, I think I’ll say a few words on their behalf.  While I disagree with their goals, I don’t think what they do is necessarily stupid – actually, I have a bit of a difficult time justifying to myself why I should eat meat, etc. 

The justification I hear most frequently is that we human beings, as animals, should not be so concerned with eating meat since so many other animals do it too.  That’s true enough.  But since when did other animals, which I think most people would acknowledge are inferior to us in reference to the faculties we tend to value, become the oracle we consult for our moral behavior?  Male ducks violently rape female ducks.  So by the same reasoning, rape shouldn’t be that big a deal to humans.  From flinging shit at each other to wantonly raping members of their own (hell, maybe even other) species, animals do lots of things we disapprove of as humans. 

We hold ourselves to a higher ethical standard than we do animals.  Why that is, I’m not exactly sure; maybe it’s a remnant of our evolved psychology.  There are no ways around it, though, we are inescapably moral creatures.  But why is this just limited to our fellow humans?  To borrow an example from David Hume, let’s say there is a race of weak and pathetic creatures who are equipped with some higher level of consciousness akin to ours, but we don’t know that because they have no real way of effectively communicating that to us and ultimately they don’t pose any threat to us either (No, this isn’t a gotcha! where I try and claim that this is actually the mental state of animals we are familiar with).  Are these weaklings subject to our ethics?  Although there would be some who would say no, we can kill them indiscriminately with no ethical repercussions and they only are treated kindly because of our own benevolence (Hume’s own position as I recall), I would think – and hope – most people would say our ethical principles do extend to them in some fashion or another, at least in a degraded form.  So having some kind of mind seems to entitle these weaklings to not be killed.  Where does one draw the line, then?  Undersatnding of one’s own mortality, of the future?  Ability to feel pain?  How about just not wanting to die?  I am inclined to think that most animals, in their own way, agree with the latter every minute they are not killing themselves. 

When I think about it, there are a great deal of situations where holding oneself to a higher standard is considered more ethically sound.  Gandhi would not be so widely respected outside of India if this weren’t true.   It seems reasonable to me that part of the responsibilities associated with being a higher life form could include treating our fellow stupider species with a respect they would not treat us with.  Parents, after all, treat their children that way.  I know how fun it is to stamp on puppies, but when I see a cat tormenting a mouse, I have to wonder – what is it exactly that makes me morally superior to that cat over there? 

Millions of humans meet an unnaturally early death at the hands of disease, war, starvation and a multitude of other things each year.  I don’t take this lightly.  In fact, I’m probably going to spend the next ten years of my life pursuing a degree in which the study of genocide and war will play a significant part.  The criticism, then, that PETA is wasting its time on animals when so many humans are still suffering is the one I probably take the most seriously.  All I can offer in response to that is that I don’t think it’s silly, stupid, or unworthy necessarily to support a cause that may seem of less importance.  Some doctors dedicate a lot of their time to going around repairing cleft palates, pro bono.  The effects of this are mostly cosmetic of course, and you could make the argument that these doctors could be spending their time doing more important things like finding the cure to cancer or Crohn’s disease or something.  But I’m not entirely comfortable with that – I think we have time for both.  Similarly, I think some time can be made to treat animals a little less cruelly.  PETA’s reaction to a Palestinian terrorist group using a donkey as a suicide bomber may have been a little ridiculous (they, of course, condemened the use of the donkey without any mention of the humans that had died) but their response to the subsequent and widespread criticism was insightful: essentially, they said that there are plenty of groups that look after humans already, and that someone had to look after the unwilling animals-turned-jihadists. 

In closing, I ask you: would you kill a Pakled?  Or that thing that clung to the side of the Enterprise because it thought it was its mother?  If so, would you think it equally fair if a Tholian or a Species 8472 killed you?

 

And Now For Something Completely Different

Look on ye mighty and despair, fellow authors: