I’ll resume regular posting on Monday. Between the aftermath of Bali, those stupid snipers, and the Chechan bastards, I’m too disgusted to bother with the headlines these last few days. Maybe I’ll feel better after a weekend of getting drunk.
My mother returned with three boxes full of stuff for me from my grandmother’s house in Florida yesterday. Grams and I had the same taste in English tableware and porcelain, so I’ve inherited a whole bunch of her dishes and her Royal Doulton character mug collection - or at least the parts of it that Mom could pry from the hands of my greedy uncle, who’s all but stuck Post-it notes with the word “MINE!” written on them on the backs of things he wanted while my grandmother was still alive. Anyway, as I was sitting at home unwrapping all of my grandmother’s treasures, I noticed that my mom, without telling me, slipped a little note she found in between two of the plates. I don’t remember when it was written, but it had to have been over twenty years ago. On it, in that terrible chicken-scratch scribble little kids who are just learning the alphabet use, next to squiggly hearts and badly-shaped stars were the words “Love From Emily”. I had girlishly dotted the “i” with a circle. I can’t believe she kept that all these years. I hope she died knowing that I meant it forever.
I’ve never bothered much with Warblogger Watch. Truthfully, I’m just not willing to spend hardly any of my time reading the rants of folks who think that logical debate comes down to “Glenn Reynolds thinks we should go to war with Iraq, therefore, he must have a small penis”. It’s not just their politics, either. There are a number of lefty bloggers that I read daily (see Ted Barlow, Brian Linse, or Matt Welch), and adore. I appreciate them because they’re a measured and smart lot with class, fellows who actually have interesting ideas. Those guys at WBW seem to think that disagreeing with someone else’s opinions on politics entitles them to hurl the cruelest sort of insults at total strangers.
Now they’ve gone after our beloved Scott Ganz for supposedly being “square”. His crime? Having dinner at my house on a Friday night. Not his opinions about Yasser Arafat. Not his stance on gun control, campaign finance, abortion, or any other pressing issues of the day, but because he mentioned that he came over to my house to cheer me up after my grandmother died and had pizza (homemade, gourmet pizza, I might add) with “The Godfather” looming in the background.
For starters, let’s just say I stand in defense of squares. Squares get things done. Squares invented the airplane and lots of other Really Important Stuff. Squares are usually pretty smart.
Think back to the biggest “square” guy in your high school class. Do you have him in your mind? Good, because there’s a more than a small chance that at this very moment he is either climbing out of a limousine, instructing his secretary to make first-class plane reservations for a trip to an exotic luxury hotel, or fucking a supermodel. Being “square” is not without its’ rewards.
But, here’s some further notes on “cool”. Cool is stupid (sorry, Fonzie). It’s what kids in high school do; if you really have to delineate people based on their dress, their hobbies, their choice in music or their (insert vacuous pursuit here), then frankly, as far as I’m concerned, you’re either still a teenager or haven’t quite grown up yet. Cool has nothing to do with the real world and has no substantive merit outside of superficial prejudice.
There are a few things I’d describe as cool. The sunset at Hermosa Beach, where I like to sit in the evenings reading a good book, I think is cool; my best friend, who’s mad at me because I’ve been distracted and haven’t bothered to take the time to call her and tell her I love her is cool; bloggers who track down the headlines and give me juicy links to the news I crave are cool; my family is perfectly cool. Anything outside of that is really just the fodder of pre-occupation. Notice that none of this has to do with what I do or do not do on a Friday night. That’s my own goddamm business.
So let’s get down to the merits of this “square” accusation. For one thing, the word “square” is hardly up-to-the-minute high fashion wordage. I mean, you might as well be scratching “Ringo is gear!” into the corner of your notebook cover during algebra class in 1964. But you know what’s worst of all, guys? You know what really makes you losers-with-a-capital-L? Squatting on URL domain names. Looking up the personal family histories of bloggers with whom you don’t agree with. Obsessing over your disagreement with them so fervently that you resort to vicious attacks of the worst and lowest kind, culminating in everything from making fun of their fathers, to assuming – and publishing - rude things about people you’ve never met. Hell, let’s face it, that’s doesn’t just make you a Loser. It makes you really…kind of … weird
I used to be annoyed by people who complained about spam (the e-mail kind, not the canned saltlick kind). I guess I just never thought it was that hard to click a few little boxes and hit “delete”. But this morning I checked my Yahoo account – the one I use for people I know in real life, not the address I once had posted here – and there were 87 spam messages.
Eighty-seven. In less than twenty-four hours.
That’s outrageous. I’ve gotten countless offers to enlarge my penis size, refinance my mortgage, and a freakish amount of mail from some group called “Married But Lonely”. All if this is a total waste of my time, especially since I don’t have a penis, own a home, and am neither married nor lonely. I’ve no interest in seeing Brittany Spears naked, and that twisted little fellow who keeps sending link after link to some site that he touts as “OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS SLUT FROM MY SCHOOL!” seriously needs to get his ass kicked. As for those bastards in Lagos who are hoping to find someone who is just as corrupt and stupid as they are, I’ve reserved for them two replies:
“Kiss my pale ass, you goddamm thief”
Thank you for your kind offer. My bank account number is 1234567. Please steal my money.”
What’s my point? Well, I don’t really have one outside of my endless desire to complain a lot. At some stage on this issue, though, something’s got to give. I loathe online news sites that make me register to read them, because I know they will pass along my e-mail address to advertisers who will annoy me with products and services I do not need or want. Even worse, with free accounts like Yahoo, anyone can peruse a public list of members in order to select their next cyber stalking victims and find e-mail addresses to pass on their creepy offers of the cheapest farm sex on the internet and hot babes who apparently want me BAD. There’s a shop up the street that takes care of my porn needs much quicker and a lot cheaper, thank you very much.
As much as I hate asking the government to step in and take care of the day to day annoyances like this one, I really think there ought to be a law. At the very least, I hope there’s a special place in Hell reserved for excessive spammers.
Arming airline pilots is bad. They will shoot people who ask for peanuts. Americans are stupid. Terrorist attacks are usually a surprise. Godwin's Law...don't mention the Nazis (then followed by a paragraph about the Nazis).
He also brings up a certain something or someone that he believes to be "rich, powerful, wrong-headed and obsessed."
I know who comes instantly to mind, but no, he is not talking about Barbara Streisand.
Last week I posted what I believed at the time to be the true ballot for the recent Iraq “election”. It seems that reader Damon Poeter has gotten his hands on the real one and sends it in:
"Praise be to Allah,
Cast your vote as a proud Iraqi for one of the following candidates for
President of Iraq:
Our Glorious Leader thanks you for your vote. Now please assist us in updating
What is your blood type?
__ Easily spillable
__ Not easily spillable (please elaborate as to how you could possibly have
this blood type) ________________________
What form of torture frightens you the most?
__ Buried to neck in ant hill
__ Involving spiders
__ Electrocution of genital area
__ Partial dismemberment followed by recovery, followed by more dismemberment,
__ Involving really bad acid and scary noises
__ Other (please specify) __________________ (WARNING: Voters who write-in
"Thrown into briar patch" will be asked to complete ballot again. In private.)
Imagine you are before a firing squad, do you:
__ Prefer blindfold
__ Prefer no blindfold
Please tell us about your living conditions under our Wise and Benevolent
__ I live at the bottom of a valley with few windy days that would disperse
various gases that might be in the air
__ I live in a flat, open area where it is difficult to hide
__ I live in a city which is regularly and thoroughly policed
__ I live in a hilly area that is not easily accessible (if this is your
answer please see the officer in charge of this voting precinct)
How should traitors who express dissent over this election to members of the
infidel media be dealt with? Please express your free choice as a proud Iraqi
by selecting one of the following:
__ Lengthy torture followed by execution
__ Execution preceded by lengthy torture
Thank you. Should our Great Father and Supreme Leader Saddam Hussein deign to
consult your worthlessness upon the matter of his Blessed Status as Master of
All He Surveys, you will be contacted. All praise to Allah, all thanks to
This is my blog and I'll fisk if I want to...today's little ditty from the Wanker is a @%#$ing gem:
Americans have, for the most part, a good opinion of Tony Blair. They think him a sensible man.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Clue: most of us haven't even heard of Tony Blair, and those who have either hate his stupid ass-face or can't wait to get their lips on his butt for a photo-op.
So it is with a sense of puzzlement, if not dismay, that many of the 76% of Americans who did not vote for George Bush...
Okay, from the halls of "How Misleading Can You Possibly Be?", the truth is that something like 40% (fact-check below if the real number is handy, please) didn't vote at all. Wanker.
...and oppose his Iraq war plans observe Blair's apparently unquestioning support for US policy. Blair's backing, they worry, makes Bush appear more credible.
Worry? Who's worried?
Jack Straw's Foreign Office and other foreign policy sophisticates: this is all wrong-headed and silly. Britain's friends understand very well what we are doing, that we do not want a war, they say. Our objective is Iraqi disarmament in support of UN resolutions and authority, in accordance with international law, in pursuit of the terrorist threat and of Britain's legitimate security concerns.
That's our objective, too. We're on the same page here. The only difference is, we're reading the book in a place called "reality", whereas people like our Wanker friend Mr. Tisdall are off chasing Peter Pan in a wishy alterno-world where the U.N. is actually a good thing.
But Blair's biggest, self-defeating self-deception relates to the US itself, for the Bush administration has grown into a juggernaut impervious to meaningful restraint or reasoned persuasion, an aberration in American political life.
Yep. He really wrote that, folks.
It pays lip service to international law but opposes the British-sponsored international criminal court.
It says it wants an Israeli-Palestinian settlement. But siding with Ariel Sharon, it spurns Blair's pleas for a Middle East conference this year.
That's because conferences are stupid.
It claims to fight for democracy and freedom but plans a military regime in Iraq and locks up terror suspects indefinitely without trial.
It's been a while since they've brought up our friends at Gitmo. Hey, get a hint, buddy: fuck them. They're terrorists. They belong in jail. As much as I value due process, fair trials, and justice, I willing to suspend that belief in the case of these vermin.
It fights for cheap oil while scuppering Kyoto.
That's because conferences are stupid.
It makes unfounded claims about Saddam's links to al-Qaida and expects Blair and the rest of us to swallow them. Bush flatters Blair at his Camp David hideaway. But his hard-faced hawks play him for a mug, the man whose support they can take...
Blah, blah, blah....I can't take this crap before my first cup of coffee.
Ah, my #1 favorite blogger is back. Be sure and stop by and wish him a Happy 70th Birthday. Meanwhile, my #2 favorite blogger is keeping on top of things, as usual, with his measured, unbiased and calm, balanced self (how can he? I mean, really?!?!?).
The fellow known on these pages only as "The Stupid Fucking Sniper Who Deserves Slow And Painful Death" is still on the loose, apparently. As crass as it may sound...who else is up for starting a big cash pool reward for the person who finally takes this bastard out?
Okay kids, a few administrative notes before I resume total posting as normal. The first in order is a thanks to all of you who sent your kind wishes my way following the death of my grandmother. We're holding up well here at GWAC, as Grams was 86 years old, and we've reckoned that's a pretty decent run. She will still be missed like a pain, though. A special thanks to Mr. Damian Penny, for taking the time to send me sweet wishes, and a super-duper, extra-special thanks to Scott Ganz and Pejman Youhaveahardlastnametospell for coming over on Friday and cheering me up.
On another note, if a link to your blog has disappeared from the right, it's because somewhere between the evil demon that possesses my computer, Blogger, and Earthlink, my template reverts on occassion, deleting any changes I might have made in the meantime. The only links I've ever removed are ones that haven't been updated in over two months. So if you either were or are missing, it wasn't a calculated choice, it was the shortcomings of this "technology". My apologies.
Font sized increased on the orders of Ms. Yourish. I hope you all find it more readable.
Lastly, I would just like to say that I hate baseball and that I'm sick to death of "The Simpsons" being pre-empted for the sake of fat men spitting and scratching their balls in public.
Well, this is exactly what normal people have been asking them to do since their very inception, but...
The statement, from men inside the Irish Republic's high-security Portlaoise jail, said the Real IRA was at an end, and that the leadership had "forfeited all moral authority" to lead the organisation.
I thought "forfeiting moral authority" was a pre-requisite for membership?
The orgainization's full statement, in all of its glorious stupidity, is here.