Archive for the ‘Stupid and Contagious’ Category

As Appropriate As Anything

November 7, 2008

Buck up, crybabies. As for the rest of you, be careful what you wish for.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

The Revolution Is Only A T-Shirt Away

April 18, 2008

Someone. Anyone. Please tell me this is a gag.


I would like to write this up as a scathing indictment regarding the ignorance of wacky leftist protestors, but we all know that putting emotion above facts isn’t limited to one side of the political divide.


fist tap Reason Hit and Run.


Prevent Animal Cruelty

December 4, 2007

Come get this goddamn cat. Seriously. Free to a good home. Ok, I don’t care if the home is good or not. We are not a three pet home. Union rules dictate that in the case of pet layoffs, the newest pet has to be let go first.

That would be this one.

Disney’s <i>That Goddamn Cat</i>

He’s a nice enough cat, but he is an agent of chaos and must be eliminated.

Drop me a line or he gets dropped of at the discount Chinese food restaurant.

Oh Noes!  I be dead soon!

I Dream of Jena

September 21, 2007

Despite what earnest coeds with terribly ironic names (speak Leslie’s name out loud) say, the media has been covering the story of the Jena 6. To the point where I can turn on the television without hearing about it. I’m pretty sure that the Reverends Jackson and Sharpton would cease to exist if there were no such thing as cable news.

Yeah, some dumbass kids hung some nooses from a tree. Without a doubt that’s an odious and offensive exercise in free speech. I equate it with flag-burning. It makes me angry until I consider the source. What it doesn’t do is excuse violent behavior. Although it might help explain it a little.

Stomping some asshole who burns the flag or puts up a noose is one of those things that is understandable but can’t be excused. As a matter of fact, getting arrested for assault should be the expected outcome.

You can go ahead and leave the argument about how what the “lynchin’ noose” represents at the back of the bus. Seamus Sarcastro was strung up by the neck for stealing chickens in 1842 back on the Isle of Skye. Wyatt Sarcastro met the same fate for chicken rustling in the Arizona Territory. What this has to do with me is absolutely nothing. Except that I love chicken. It’s so versatile!

Today’s high school kids weren’t born when Thriller came out. They have the same connection to, say, the Emmet Till case that I have to the sinking of the Lusitania.

Although, if a German submarine crewed entirely by chickens surface off the coast looking to string me up next time I go to the beach, I’m gonna have a total freak out.

I used to have a friend who had what any reasonable person would call an ‘unenlightened’ view on race. His views on black people made me look like Morris Dees (as portrayed by Wayne Rogers). My friend was driving to California one summer for reasons that still aren’t clear. He called me from a pay phone off the interstate.

“I just drove through Selma. What a shithole.”

“What makes you say that?”

“This town is a dump. As far as I’m concerned, the niggers can have this place.”

My advice to the young black folks of Jena is to get the last laugh. Move away from that shithole as soon as you can. Small towns without young people are doomed. If Jena wants to live in the past, there is no reason why you should be forced to do so as well. Let the town of Jena wither and die on the vine like strange fruit hanging from a tree.

As far as I’m concerned, the crackers can have that place.

Update:  Well, well,well.  Out of a thousand reporters who swarmed Jena, the number of reporters who looked beyond the hyperbole is, apparently, one.  Turns out this story is a little more complex than we were led to believe.

From this example we can extrapolate as a general rule of thumb the chance that the media got any particular story right: 1000-to-1.

The Soft Bigotry of Low Expectations

July 20, 2007

With no way to defend the indefensible, the Vick Fan is chumming the waters of the internet and sports talk radio with charges of racism and allegations that The Man is out to get another Black Hero.

Really?  As The Man’s local representative, frankly, we’re shocked.  How did you figure out our secret plan to offer to pay this guy $130 million dollars, only to go after him for some harmless fun?

Is it racist to expect better from this man?  C’mon, we’re not talking about Marcus Vick. Have we infantilized the Negro Male to the point where animal cruelty is something to be tolerated, and more often than not, expected?  If it is racism to expect better does that mean that dog fighting is a part of black culture and we are not being sensitive to the traditions of others.  Golly, I hope the diversity broad at work doesn’t find out.

The aptly named (for Boondocks fans) Mike Freeman of CBS Sportsline gives his take.  He damns Vick with faint damning before equating those who don’t see a racial element with Klan members.

As a brief aside, the drooling idiot Senator from West Virginny tossed in his two cents the other day.   What courage Senator Byrd must possess to stand on the Senate floor and condemn the scourge of animal cruelty.  Let me see if I have something straight.  This worthless old windbag was a Grand Wizard Great Poo-Bah Eminent Dodecahedron Exalted Cyclops in the Ku Klux Klan.  The Klan is a domestic terrorism organization according to law enforcement.   This asshole was a segregationist and filibustered against civil rights whenever possible.  Unbelievably, he is celebrated by the Democrats for his long and distinguished record, despite clearly loving dogs more than the Blackamoor.  When Byrd dies, his seat will go to a former member of either Al-Qaeda or the Baader-Meinhof Gang.  They can’t be much worse than the feeble and pointless Byrd or the nitwittery of Jay Rockefeller.

But I digress.

Getting back to the Freeman piece, he rambles on to a point where he coughs up his true life encounter with honest to gosh racism.  This one time, he recounted, a middle age white woman admitted that she didn’t know black folks owned dogs.


I bet that room got so quiet you could hear a church explode.

Spare us all the talk about race as a driving force in this unfortunate tale.  Spare us the conspiracy theories.  Spare us the comparisons to high profile white quarterbacks.

If you want someone to measure Vick’s transgressions against, how about Pete Rose?  All Pete did was bet on a few baseball games.  Pete went to prison.  Pete isn’t allowed near professional baseball.  Pete is living out his sad life as a disgrace and a joke.  Pete has to sit outside a Vegas memorabilia store for the rest of his days signing baseballs and photos for anyone dumb enough to want one.

By the way, I have two Michael Vick jerseys (youth small and youth medium) I need to sell.  Any takers?

I didn’t think so.

Dog Days of Summer

July 10, 2007

In my daily travels, I see how a wide variety of people live. My job takes me to the roughest projects in town and the nicest suburban subdivisions. I see rich and poor alike every day. Well, mostly I see people who shouldn’t have pets.

Notice I didn’t say …people who shouldn’t be allowed to have pets. You will have to go elsewhere for that kind of hysterical call for government intervention.

There was a story on WKRN this morning, (it isn’t up on that newfangled internet machine two hours after it was on the air; so much news, so little time, I guess) about some pit bull attack out in Donelson. The pit bull was chained to a tree, and with Hannibal Lecter-like skill, broke free of its restraints and went after a woman who was searching for her lost dog. Then, the pit bull carved off the face of another dog and attempted to pass itself off as an innocent victim when animal control showed up. Or something like that.

The owner of the pit bull claimed that the woman looking for her dog must have attacked the pit bull and provoked it into escaping its captivity.

First off, if you feel that chaining a dog to a tree is acceptable and responsible pet ownership, you don’t need to have a dog. Go breed yourself another ugly kid if you need something to tie to a tree.

Here’s what I see every day. Some poor mutt staked out in the yard with approximately four feet of chain. A turned over water bowl is nearby surrounded by piles of dog turds. Looky here dumbasses, you are forcing the dog to shit where he eats. You would be a little aggressive too, were that your living conditions. Wait, oh sorry, I’ve been in your houses. You pretty much already shit where you eat.

The other breed of idiot dog owner is the one who thinks it a bright idea to buy a six by six chain-link kennel to put a seventy pound dog in. By the time you squeeze in the stylish, plastic igloo dog house you picked up at Wal-Mart, Ol’ Yeller has about three feet to move around to do his daily business.

If you need to keep something in a cage, buy a bird or get yourself another foster child.

Here’s how this is going to roll, moron pet owners. I know you aren’t breaking any laws. There is, after all, no law against being stupid. I have a pair of bolt cutters and am not scared of coming back late at night and setting Fido free.

You know, if I have the spare time and there isn’t something good on TV that night.

I Thought I Was An Aquarius…

March 2, 2007

fledermaus3i.jpg Time to change my superhero name. According to Terry Frank, I’m a Moonbat.

I tried looking it up, but all the definitions I find are contradictory. It’s either a right wing nutjob or a left wing nutjob. In either case, it appears that Terry’s grasp on the facts are, well, about the same as always.

I can totally see where she gets confused. I, too, was a radio host on a low-powered AM radio station. That’s a high pressure gig. Then I graduated from college.

She did, however, infer that I’m an unoriginal purveyor in cheap shots and one-liners.

Hey, a broken clock is right twice a day.

Stooge Marathon

February 20, 2007

No, not the one on Spike TV today.


I’m talking about the big abortion hootenanny over at NiT.

Yeah, that’s me doing all that mouthing off. Normally, I don’t like getting into abortion debates. It’s a no-win. There is absolutely nothing I can say that will change someone’s attitude about when life begins, when personhood is granted and what rights do the living have over the unborn. It just doesn’t happen. The same holds true the other way around. Nothing you say is going to convince me that your position is the undisputable truth. People believe what they believe. A lot of it has to do with faith. Much of it has to do with where one sees himself in relationship with the rest of the universe. Some of it has to do with drinking the Kool-Aid of whatever group you affilliate with. Much like Hillary Clinton, abortion is one of those things that everyone has a strong opinion about.

Well, I got into it with a bunch of chuckleheads this weekend. Against my better judgement. Here’s a little behind the scenes secret about that. This is just between us, so don’t spread it around.

First some background. Arguing with these folks about anything, much less abortion, is an exercise in futility. Their logic is fallacious. Their base of knowledge is facile. Their grasp of the English language, both in practice and comprehension, is laughable. The cherry on the dumbass sundae is their unflagging belief in their superiority. Standing amid the bodies at Little Bighorn, they would crow about how they “depantsed” the Sioux. Sorry General Custer, you didn’t.

These nattering nabobs like to congratulate each other in their little echo chamber of having done a “masterful” job of being “ruthlessly logical” in their arguments. Much in the same way I imagine D&D dorks congratulate one another about a “masterful” job being “ruthlessly logical” when killing imaginary creatures on graph paper.

So I’m thinking, “What line of argument would totally outflank these weenies?”

Why not the Objectivist philosophy of Ayn Rand? Kind of hard to throw the liberal, Commie, Democrat label at her special brand of crazy.

So, instead of wasting my valuable time, energy and brain cells on debating a couple of Dungeon Masters, I let Ms. Rand and her flunkies do it for me. I probably agree with 3/5 of the Objectivist position. Close enough for government work.

With the exception of a few demeaning and unnecessary personal touches, the “masterful” job I did of “depantsing” their collectivist, enemies-of-individual-rights asses, was done with the help of my two friends, “copy” and “paste”. My opponents found it difficult to indulge in their paint by numbers routine of ad hominem, appeal to authority, appeal to emotion, biased sample, half-truth, anecdotal evidence, appeal to consequence, appeal to probability, straw men, irrelevant conclusion and wishful thinking.

Why bother wasting a beautiful weekend bumping heads with a couple of losers? Isn’t the internet supposed to be about maximizing productivity? Ok, that and porn.

“A man who takes it upon himself to prescribe how others should dispose of their own lives – and who seeks to condemn them by law, i.e., by force, to the drudgery of an unchosen, lifelong servitude (which, more often than not, is beyond their economic means or capacity) – such a man has no right to pose as a defender of rights. A man with so little concern or respect for the rights of the individual, cannot and will not be a champion of freedom or of capitalism.”

See! Stuff like that. Ayn Rand brings the logic smackdown to the party. It sure made those boys apoplectic. If they’ve read this far, someone may need to define “apoplectic” for them. Of course, I made it out like that stuff was coming off of my own head. Thanks to those who gave words of support, but it was the Objectivists doing the heavy lifting.

In conclusion, here’s something else I didn’t come up with. This one goes out to the stooges who spent their weekend getting worked up about that darn Sarcastro.

That Darn Kat

December 7, 2006

I was sitting here trying to hammer out the recommendations of the my own Iraq Study Group.  Other than killing another 300,000 or so Iraqis just so they know we aren’t foolin’ around, I got nothin’.  There are snow flurries outside, so the interstate must be at a dead stop.  Or at least that’s how I’m rationalizing not getting over to my house to steam clean the carpets for the new renter. 

Instead, I’ll answer yet another meme.

Three Things:

That Scare Me:  Talking apes on horseback;  going to prison; a land war in Asia.

People Who Make Me Laugh: Jonathan Winters; (whatever happened to) Jon Jackson; sgazzetti.

I Love:  A wee dram; to laugh;  my wife.

I Hate:  Just about everything; memes; poor people. 

I Don’t Understand:  Seemingly intelligent people basing their worldview on Bronze Age mythologies;  the fuss about Nemesis Boy; vegans.

Things on my desk:  A "For Sale" sign; a price tag of $20; dust.

I’m Doing Right Now:  Not fulfilling my potential;  procrastinating; not using time wisely.

I Want to do Before I Die:  Finish this stupid meme;  get me one of them newfangled HDTVs; kill zombies.

I Can Do:  Be a good father;  Be a loving husband; identify the three types of asbestos commonly used in building products.

I Can’t Do:  Play a musical instrument with any sort of skill; long division without a calculator; find a vocation that is also my avocation.

I Think You Should Listen To:  Randy Newman Ragtime ;  Louis Jordan Let the Good Times Roll: Anthology 1938-1953; The Pogues Rum, Sodomy and The Lash.

You Should NEVER Listen To:  Lee Greenwood I’m Proud To Be An American;  G-Unit In Da Club; Bette Midler Wind Beneath My Wings.

I’d Like To Learn:  How to become one of them innernet millionaires;  that cool kung fu move where you can paralyze someone for a few seconds with a nerve strike like that cat in Serenity could do; how to make consistently good fried rice.

Favorite Foods:  Thai; Southwestern; BBQ. 

Beverages I drink regularlyArnold Palmer; Crystal Light Peach Tea;  beer.

Shows I watched regularly as a kid:  What night?  I watched EVERYTHING regularly as a kid.  For the purposes of this thingy, we’ll narrow it down to shows I watched as a kid that I still watch (or would watch).  Rockford Files; The Bob Newhart Show; Hogan’s Heroes. 

I refuse to tag anyone else so that this colossal waste of time will die a natural death. 

What Seems To Be the Problem, Officer?

November 29, 2006

Mrs. Kathryn Johnson, an 88-year (or 92, depending on who you ask) old Atlanta resident was murdered by police the other day.   Thanks, War on Drugs!  Another evil narco-trafficking great-grandmother threatening our Republic has been eliminated.  Huzzah!

Here’s a little safety tip officer, if you kick in my door in the middle of the night, the second thing through the door frame will be your brain matter.  Yelling that you are the police isn’t some kind of way to claim "Not It!" immunity.  Nothing stops either the home invaders or Iraqi insurgents from claiming they are the police while they are up to their shenanigans.  Yeah, I know.  They are cheating.  What do you expect?  They are criminals. 

See,we’ve got this thing called the Fourth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. 

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

We also have this cool thing called the Second Amendment to make sure we can defend our right to be secure in our persons and homes.  As far as I’m concerned, and apparently the same went for Mrs. Johnson, those two amendments trump your half-assed probable cause for busting in her home.

If you are going to base a "no-knock" warrant on the word of some sketchy jitterbugging crack fiend, well, you get what you pay for.  I don’t want to tell you how to do your jobs, but it seems to me that the investigative side of police work would compel you to seek corroborative evidence before you put lives at risk.  Or don’t you all do that stuff anymore?

I bet if you watched the house for 24 hours, you might have found the only people coming and going from that house was Meals on Wheels, instead of the Medellin Cartel.  Again, I’m not as highly trained as you all.  I’m just minimally fucking observant.

Sure, you cops fired in self-defense.  You and the rest of the SWAT team were just minding your own business terrorizing the elderly when she shot at you.  Good luck next time you get a hot tip.

The next old lady might be a better shot.

In a related matter, Radley Balko over at CATO has a very cool map that details all the incidents of bogus Barney Fife raids.