Friday, March 15, 2002

I survived Customs okay. The woman at the export control window, after seeing me at the counter, decided that she would take ten or so minutes finishing what she was doing at her desk before she decided to help me and be gracious enough to DO HER FUCKING JOB.

Excuse me, I've got a fuse that needs replacing...

Pejman's got some information about our "peace partners".

Well, I'm off for my bi-monthly flogging at the hands of the bitter civil servants over at LAX U.S. Customs.

Pity me.

Spike Milligan took an ad out in Private Eye magazine back in 1989 that read "Spike Milligan would like to meet rich well-insured widow. Intention murder."

48 people responded.

Mike J. has got the best e-mail signature I've ever seen:

"I ain't givin' to any charity that calls it a 'tragedy'.
I'm only givin' to charities that call it an 'attack'."

Apparently, it's national Spam Week in Britain. I suppose this means the poor Brits are obligated to consume this salt-in-solid-form demi-meat at least once in the next few days. After all, if it weren't for Spam, the bad guys might have won World War II.

Michael Byers writes in the Daily Wanker that action against Iraq may be "illegal":

Pressing ahead against Iraq without council authorisation would be illegal under current international law and would undermine a significant accomplishment.

You know what, Mr. Byers? The U.S. is first and foremost a sovereign nation. Fuck the U.N.

"He rarely eats meat but likes to go hunting" declares one of Osama bin Laden's wives in an interview:

During the last period, he used to speak less to me and I used to spend my time at home, because he prevented me from going outside and used to say that if I went out, harm might come to me. At a later stage, he used to come to me only once every two or three weeks and say he was busy, had some problems, and was in constant meetings with Mullah Omar and the Taliban leaders. Even when he wanted to travel to another area, he did not tell anybody, contrary to the past, when he used to take one of us with him when he travelled.

(found via Peter Briffa)

Thursday, March 14, 2002

"Let every fart count as a peal of thunder for liberty. Let every fart remind the nation of how much it has let pass out of its control. So fart, and if you must, fart often. But always fart without apology. Fart for freedom, fart for liberty…and fart proudly!"
-Benjamin Franklin
Fart Proudly

Yes, after a whole day of not posting, all I have to give is a fart joke.

Wednesday, March 13, 2002

The National Organization for Women is attacking my beloved Take Back the Campus, claiming that it is "a well-funded propaganda campaign". And N.O.W. isn't? Give me a break, sweethearts.

They also claim that Take Back the Campus is guilty of spreading "misinformation". That's funny, since, for every statistic that T.B.C. provides, they list at least two sources where their claims can be backed up. I've never seen anything like that from N.O.W.

The big problem I have with N.O.W. is that they have an annoying habit of constantly painting women as helpless victims, and men as evil predators. I've had a lot of guy friends, and I can't think of one of them who wouldn't beat the living crap out of a man that even tried to rape a woman.

If women supporters of N.O.W. want to be on equal footing with men, then they need to take on the same responsibilities, and have the courage to be willing to work hard and be independent. Women need to learn to have enough pride to walk away from jerks who slap them around, and the smarts to avoid landing in situations where they might be attacked, physically or sexually. Playing the sobbing victim will get you nowhere. I had a boyfriend who hit me once. The first thing I did was dump the bastard. The second thing I did was learn how to hit back.

John Cole reminded me to re-visit, which I haven't done for a while. It's a lot of fun, especially when readers send in their own experiences with "engrish", one of my favorites being the following:

My Japanese sister-in-law had a kitchen apron featuring a design of two tiny kittens in flowery bonnets and summer dresses. Next to the cute kitties was this inspiring note:

"I'm the best pussy in the cat house."

My sister-in-law does not speak much English, so I debated for many days whether or not to tell her. Finally, unable to resist the temptation, I explained to her in Japanese the little joke. Well, she was shocked! and immediately stopped wearing the apron.......

Okay, so I'm only 99% Fartybutt free: Bob Guccione Jr. defends that man on his latest crass piece of crap, and adds "I have a good deal of friends who are firemen".

Not anymore, Bob.

I love this one from Ted Barlow:

"China 'shocked' to be on U.S. nuke hitlist

Next: Charlie Sheen 'shocked' to find himself in hooker's Rolodex. Whatever, China."

Twitess Watch: Maureen Dowd, from Today's NYT:

Everyone has painted Michael Eisner as Cruella De Vil, trying to take the precious puppy known as ABC News and turn it into a flashy polka-dot wrap. He is the Philistine who's stomping on the hallowed halls of journalism, trying to junk the estimable "Nightline" for the ka-ching of late-night jokes.

Who on earth wants to get their news from a precious puppy? I admit, I've only watched "Nightline" once or twice, but what I've seen is reminicent those "precious puppy" outputs that have forced every dog owner in history to roll up a newspaper in order to convey to Spot the reasons why that is not allowed in the house. And the "hollawed halls of journalism"? Christ, what does this woman think these people do? Hallowed?

...It is simplistic to cast it as the noble crusade of journalism versus the crass demands of commerce...

Again, noble crusade? Besides, I thought we weren't supposed to say "crusade" anymore?

"Nightline" is a lonely holdout with a strong commitment to journalistic principles and mature anchors whose features still move.


News executives have been racing to tart up the news with pretty faces in leather coats, soft and sexy stories, and promos for prime-time shows brazenly masquerading as legitimate news features. They obsess over the talents' Q-ratings the way Hollywood suits obsess over the weekend box-office rankings.

What!?! They spend small fortunes producing their television programs, and they actually worry about wether or not people are watching? What kind of animals are these guys?

Look, Maureen, so they want anchors to be pretty. So what. It's television, for goodness' sake. People would much rather watch the news delivered by Paula Zahn than Quasimodo. We're shallow like that. Give it a rest, already.

The Smoking Gun has actual fax copies of the visas granted to two of the September 11 hijackers by the INS.

It appears as though the operation that Jack Straw underwent to have his head pulled out of his ass was successful:

After September 11, [Straw] put undue emphasis on righting Palestinian grievances as the way to counter the threat of global terror posed by Osama bin Laden and al-Qa'eda.

And last month he misinterpreted George Bush's "axis of evil" address as a mid-term electioneering gambit.

It was, therefore, heartening in the House of Commons yesterday to hear the Foreign Secretary express appreciation of the dangers faced by Israel and condemn Iraq as a producer of weapons of mass destruction (WMD).

(found via Iain Murray)

I can't believe they're still letting this thug fight.

"Former Conservative Chancellor Lord Lamont argued the BBC was not 'deliberately' biased."

Nope. They're just "plain" biased.

So, the state of Georgia finally put Tracy Housel under. The PC Euroweenies are howling.

Personally, I think that putting Housel on a back-wrenching chain gang for the duration of his wretched life would have been a more suitable alternative. But I don't feel all that bad for him, for a reason I can sum up in two words: Jeanne Drew.

Tuesday, March 12, 2002

Damian made me cry.

Now taking donations to help fund the task of baking Michael Moore the largest humble pie the world has ever known.

Hey, Iraq: Give him back. Now.

Not all Euros are weenies
Read this article from The Sun, which I found via Peter Briffa, whose blog is a one-stop shop for all of British politics.

Jonathan Steele, you are an asshole. From the Daily Wanker:

It has taken six months, but the first dissent has appeared in America's mood of bipartisan chauvinism.

What is "bipartisan chauvinism"?

...senior Democrats were daring to challenge the notion that a great victory had been achieved. "Clearly, we've got to find Mohammed Omar, we've got to find Osama bin Laden, and we've got to find other key leaders of the al-Qaida network, or we will have failed," the Senate majority leader Tom Daschle said.

Gee Tom, you're brilliant.

These are the first elite echoes from within the belly of the American establishment of what foreign critics have been saying for months.

"Elite echoes"?

...their comments mark a serious move forward from last autumn's instinct for revenge...

Instinct for revenge!?!?!?! Hey buddy, I think you might be confused. Grab a dictionary. Look up revenge. Then look up justice.

The best estimates are that the civilian death toll from the bombing exceeds the carnage of September 11. At least 2,000, possibly 8,000, were killed, and at least 3,000 more died of hunger or cold as they fled the air strikes.

How many times do these figures have to be completely discredited before people like you shut the fuck up?

A few European leaders have dared to raise questions.

Yes, they are so brave. Most of them are anti-American bigots, as well.

The critics of using war against terrorists are gaining ground.

That hardly offers validity to their argument. Hell, Scientology is "gaining ground". Guess what? It's still a cult.

Read the entire version of Mr. Steele's glorious stupidity, if you dare.

Monday, March 11, 2002

Since everyone is high on Star Wars right now, I'd like to remind you of an alternative option for the 2004 election: Palpatine for President.

"Power. Order. Stormtroopers. The choice is obvious."

I won't be long now before the mega-geeks start sleeping on sidewalks in front of movie theaters wearing Darth Vader helmets.

Film Club Selection # 4: Pink Flamingos, a.k.a. The Movie Where Divine Ate Dog Poop. I positively loathe John Waters movies. I've always felt they were the kinds of things that boring, middle class people watched to make themselves feel like they're interesting.

Waters and his crew probably thought they were shocking the hell out of everyone when they made Flamingos. Not so. It was just plain retarded. Alcohol consumption is recommended when viewing.

The 12-step program for addicts of blog, according to David Janes.

Does anyone out there actually think Ted Rall is funny? I demand that you declare yourselves so that I can begin making fun of you immediately.

I don't think it's a very good idea to keep going on and on about the talent-free Mr. Rall, for reasons that I call the "Married with Children Syndrome". Does anyone remember, a little over ten years ago, some bored housewife from somewhere in the Midwest caught an episode of a then-teetering on the brink of cancellation "Married with Children", and it so offended her self-righteous sensibilities that she began a campaign to have it taken off the air (what else is she going to do when the kids are at school besides tell everyone else in America what they should and shouldn't watch on television?). Well, just like Tipper and her friends at the PMRC taking on 2 Live Crew's As Nasty As They Wanna Be a few years earlier, all that Mrs. Goody-Goody succeeded in doing is drawing enough attention to the show, so that it ended up becoming one of the most highly rated and longest running programs on televison. Just like that filthy 2 Live Crew album, the program might otherwise have slipped into obscurity (I'm glad it didn't - I liked the show), with little or no notice.

So I have decided that, from this day on, this blog will be 100% Ted Rall free, no matter what he writes. I'm beginning to suspect that most of the outrageous themes of his "cartoons" are caluculated to be just that, in order to kick up dust and call attention to himself. I'm not going to give him that.

A gent named Mark Butterworth has started a great new blog. Check it out.

I saw the dumbest Capri-Sun commercial last night, with some mini-van-driving soccer mom declaring "I love Capri-Sun! It's all I feed my family because it's all natural! That means I can pronounce everything that's in it!"

Huh? What is the great fuss over "all-natural" anyway? And why is it better because mom can pronounce the ingredients? I can think of a few all-natural things I can pronounce - things like "snake venom" and "small pox", but I'm hardly eager to pop a straw in a foil pouch and guzzle them down. There's a profound fear that some people have, especially the stupid ones, of things that they can't understand. Just because you can't spell it, grow it in your garden, or make it yourself doesn't automatically make something "bad".

I once drank a small amount of "all-natural" ginseng, and it caused me to have a series of short seizures. You know what stopped 'em? An un-natural drug, generically called "depakote". In the long form, it's called something that only a professional pharmecist and Elvis Presley could pronounce. And I never leave home without it.

Sunday, March 10, 2002

Well, I'd promised myself that I'd get this place straightened out this weekend, finally post some links and get the archives back up, but it's a very beautiful, sunny day today here in Los Angeles, and I can't even consider sitting inside behind a computer. Ciao, y'all. I'm going to the beach.