Friday, November 30, 2007
A Google search for "christian porn" brings up 45,600 hits, but very little info on actual Christian friendly porn. Apparently, there's at least one guy who makes it, a fella named Helmut Lang.
Originally composed on 12/31/2005.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Date:Saturday, January 28, 2006 15:07:00
Subject: Howdy David!
Message: Hey there, just browsing around trying to meet some people from around here. I just moved to Seattle a few weeks back and I hardly a soul. I figured I'd give friendster a shot and see if I have any luck. I'll keep this short until I know you're interested. Just looking for someone to hang out and have a good time with....not looking for anything serious. Anyway, I just made this account tonight looking for other lonely people, and 'cause I'm so bored. Not sure if I'll be back here or not. If you'd like to get to know me, my regular email address is firstname.lastname@example.org. Look me up and I might just send you some more pics. See ya soon.. maybe!
Originally composed on February 1, 2006. I think I had a more substantial post in mind, because I actually responded to this message, and then she told me to contact her on some adult site. while trying to google a free password, I found it was all a scam. The post would have worked better had I included the picutre from her profile, which was totally my type, which Is what drew me in the first place. Still, no money was lost, and only a few minutes of heartache were suffered.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
So, some great things have been happening this week. Apparently, the Washington Post started up a new right-wing blog, written by a smug teenager names Ben Domenech. Not without conraversy, it seems, and liverals decides to destroy America through Ben.
It appears Mr. Domenech has been plagiarizing since college. He denies it, of course. What might look as inept copying was really inept editing.
Of course, as a blogger, it's very easy to plagiarize. I'm sure I've done it far more than the occasions that spring to mind without even trying.
Originally composed on March 24, 2006
Tarek, Lee, and Leslie also hit the streets. Was this in the dossier for this task? Why not just hit a modeling agency? I hear they sometimes use models in advertisements. They find a pretty girl ("wholesome," "girl-next-door"), and Tarek lays on the...something. Charm? I think he's good-looking enough that, no matter what, it's going to be charming. From this side of the screen, what it is, is creepy. He comes running up to this girl and opens with "I am going to be totally shady." He asks if she speaks English, which is...I get where he's coming from, but it's somehow also creepy. He offers to give her $200 and buy her "a sporting outfit," and all she has to do is hold a box up to her face. I was going to have a quiz here, but there's only one appropriate answer, so screw it. People, I don't care if they have a TV crew with them, I don't care if they look like Tarek, do not get in vans with strangers. "Have your producer call me" is the only thing you should say. Instead, the girl smiles beautifully and agrees. I'm glad it worked out this one time. She sits in the van with them, thinking about how she is going to die, as Leslie chomps disgustingly on a wad of gum and calls in on the walkie that they've "secured the model." The girl is clearly frightened by all this, but game. Tarek interviews that he's still worried because their idea is so safe, and that he hopes the other team didn't come up with a more creative idea. Such as a bagel diet, I think is the limit of their creativity right now.
Originally posted on March 26, 2006
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Why are you wasting my time with Colbert, I hear you ask. Because he is representative of what too often passes for political courage, not to mention wit, in this country. His defenders -- and they are all over the blogosphere -- will tell you he spoke truth to power. This is a tired phrase, as we all know, but when it was fresh and meaningful it suggested repercussions, consequences -- maybe even death in some countries. When you spoke truth to power you took the distinct chance that power would smite you, toss you into a dungeon or -- if you're at work -- take away your office.
But in this country, anyone can insult the president of the United States. Colbert just did it, and he will not suffer any consequence at all. He knew that going in. He also knew that Bush would have to sit there and pretend to laugh at Colbert's lame and insulting jokes. Bush himself plays off his reputation as a dunce and his penchant for mangling English. Self-mockery can be funny. Mockery that is insulting is not. The sort of stuff that would get you punched in a bar can be said on a dais with impunity. This is why Colbert was more than rude. He was a bully.
Originally posted on May 4, 2006. I can't find the link anymore.
Monday, November 26, 2007
As Al Gore attends a reception for Nobel Laureates hosted by President Bush at the White House, it is clear that neither man is enjoying the moment. It looks like they're muttering nasty remarks to each other.
Gore: (Sighs) I still won Florida.
Bush: You can still kiss my ass.
I tried to ennoble Facebook by uploading my brilliant short film, Pickup, and to you know, promote it and network and shit. But this is the message I get:
Error: Sorry, this video exceeds 8 minutes. Please try another.Well, fuck them, then. It's my movie. You can see it on Myspace. Or right here, right now:
I have this image of Vice President Cheney walking in the Rose Garden with his wife, security detail, and maybe a grandchild when Cheney pauses.
"Richard, honey" Lynn Cheney says. "What is it?"
Cheney touches his left breast. "I don't know. I.. don't... What?"
"Oh, Dick!" Lynn Cheney takes her husbands hand, and whirls to stare wildly at the Secret Service. They appear unmoved behind their sunglasses. In fact, they are unmoved. They are the Vice President's security detail, and lord knows they can't stand the man.
Anyway, they go to a doctor, and the doctor explains to Cheney that he felt was what people call a "heartbeat" and there's no reason to be alarmed. Not that Cheney was alarmed.
Just angry. Angry at God. Angry at Osama. Angry at himself, for ever having a sdamned heartbeat.
Of course, the image I had is wrong, because Cheney, being Cheney, was receiving a routine medical examination at 7:00 am at the White House. Just normal folks, that Dick.
Yet another white devil learns that you can't just visit a foreign culture and act like you own the place.
A British schoolteacher has been arrested in Sudan accused of insulting Islam's Prophet, after she allowed her pupils to name a teddy bear Muhammad.
Colleagues of Gillian Gibbons, 54, from Liverpool, said she made an "innocent mistake" by letting the six and seven-year-olds choose the name.
Ms Gibbons was arrested after several parents made complaints.
The BBC has learned the charge could lead to six months in jail, 40 lashes or a fine.
If I were her, I'd pay the fine. Even with the Western economy tumbling to Poland-in-the-Eighties levels, I bet the Euro is still pretty strong against the Sudanese dinar, and she'll end up paying the equivalent of $24 US. I liked this line as well:
One Muslim teacher at the independent school for Christian and Muslim children, who has a child in Ms Gibbons' class, said she had not found the project offensive.
"I know Gillian and she would never have meant it as an insult. I was just impressed that she got them to vote," the teacher said.
Yeah, talk to me when suffrage in Sudan extends beyond third grade.
Bush has had several gay friends in the past, and, according to them, has always been civil and open and accepting. In the 2000 election cycle a former aide, Doug Wead, secretly taped chats with Bush. On one occasion Bush was told he had to criticize gays as a way to curry favour with evangelicals. He retorted: “I’m not going to kick gays, because I’m a sinner. How can I differentiate sin?”
Sullivan's version of Our Hero relates to gays because he's a recovering alcoholic.
Originally written on May 7, 2006
Saturday, November 24, 2007
The more I think about SUPERMAN RETURNS, the less I hate it. I like how, Silver Age aside, Superman has always worked best as a modern strip. And SUPERMAN RETURNS is very modern indeed. Superman is saddened by disaster, and his flights with Lois Lane are reflective and gentley paced.
I lked SUPERMAN RETURNS. Brandon Routh was well-cast. If Superman was a real guy, as realized from a couple Jewish kids in New York, I could see him coming to life as a friendly, well-mean and slightly boring guy with a college education. I really had a vibe like, "this is the true story the comics are based on." He reminded me of the character in SUPERMAN SECRET IDENTITY.
Originally written on July 3, 2006
Friday, November 23, 2007
Exchange students tiredOriginally written on August 19, 2006. Now that I think about it, I probably had good and valid reasons for not uploading a picture of a couple Japanese teenagers who were passed out in the back of my car after a day at Seattle Hempfest. But I'm sure they're over 18 now, and they have left the country. I should probably tell the whole story before the end of the year, huh?
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
- Main Page [1,902,689]
- Homosexuality [1,541,712]
- Homosexuality and Hepatitis [516,721]
- Homosexuality and Promiscuity [420,139]
- Homosexuality and Parasites [387,872]
- Homosexuality and Domestic Violence [350,963]
- Gay Bowel Syndrome [342,650]
- Homosexuality and Gonorrhea [331,066]
- Homosexuality and Mental Health [276,531]
- Homosexuality and Syphilis [265,017]
Here's the entry on dinosaurs. Better still, here's the discussion page for the entry on dinosaurs. Conservapedia has my highest endorsement.
I was pleased to hear the guilty verdict in the I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby perjury trial. I hope more dowfalls follow. In November 2005, I was interviewed by DC television news crew for my reaction. I doubt the piece aired with me intact, because I railed about the guy's stupid name, and said I hope it heralded many indictments to come. I'm still waiting on the latter.
I despise the man for going by the nickname "Scooter"? What possesses a 51 year-old man to let people call him "Scooter"? I'll tell you: arrogance and a sense of entitlement so overwhelming it can probably be seen from space. I mean, the "I" in Libby's name is bad enough. I don't even want to know what establishment dickwad appellation he's disguising there. But I resent that a man can walk around with such a life of privilege that he never realizes he's being called a twat every time he's addressed.
I, too, had a boy's school nickname: Brutus. The story of Libby's nickname is that as a baby, he scooted about his cot. I don't know if that's true, but I bet he got used to it from his prep school friends. They probably heard his parents use it, began using it themselves in mockage a few times, and then continued using it as a nickname for, well, for the the rest of their lives. I don't know if that's true, either.
I got my nickname after someone smashed my tennis racket. Yes, tennis racket. It was a prestigious prep school. Word got around that I did it myself in a fit of rage, against a column (it was a prestigious prep school). That story was so good that whoever did it -- and looking back after twenty years, I think I know who, which is funny because I never had a suspect in mind at the time.
The rich kids started calling me Brutus. As in, brutal. Good-natured mockage, in its way. Since I wasn't friends with any of them before, "Brutus" was the name by which they knew me. I had a number of older friends who called me Dave, but they eventually started with the Brutus stuff, too. (By the way, this was much preferable to the weeks-long running joke that I had AIDS. )
So, people called me Brutus. I never mentioned it to anyone outside the school except by way of explanation, such as when people would call my home, and ask my parents if they could speak to Brutus. I don't think I played a different character when I went by Brutus, although I did take advantage of the acceptance it represented to indulge in my own bullying of less popular kids.
You have to understand, these kids were assholes. Think about attending a school, full of rich kids who had been going there together since kindergarten, making fun of the cheap redneck shit clothing my parents could then afford. And then imagine a fat pre-pubescent rich asshole dressed like Sonny from Miami Vice: pink t-shirt, white linen blazer, white pants. And legit name brand shit, not the Miami Vice costume one would assemble from thrift stores. I meant, could. Em.
Anyway, that stupid fat rich kid could dress like a complete asshole -- he looked ridiculous -- partially because his peers thought it was cool, and the rest let him get away with it. Had I stayed at Gilman,* I would have no doubt I would have been called Brutus until I was 17, and possibly gone to college with a couple guys who would have called me that, and they would have spread it on to the fraternity I would have inevitably joined.
I'd be Brutus right now, and I who knows what I'd be doing right now.
* Which was not a given, even had my parents not moved to Seattle before high school. I was arrested for shoplifting a week before graduation. My older sister tells me that my parents had to "pull some strings"** to just get them to keep them from expelling me the day before eight grade graduation. That would have been something, since the prior year half my classmates were caught routinely stealing from the school store, and received a mass amnesty (although some community service was probably involved). My dad tells me that no such measures were considered.
**I don't know what kind of strings these could be. Poor family, no connections. I doubt they paid a bribe.
Originally written on March 7, 2007. I cannot believe I didn't publish this gem.
"Hi. I'm Stick. These are my friends Pretty-Boy, Piggy, Chickpea, Buzzard, Baldy, Big-Lips, Warty, Lefty, Curly, Gimpy, Hairy, Fatty, Squinty, Animal, Red, Stutters, and Dumb-Ass."
So who are these guys? The cast of the Roman production of West Side Story? Actors who failed in their audition for the Seven Dwarfs?
No. They're aristicrats from Rome's best families, and they're dressed in the red-striped toga of the Senatorial class.
The speaker is Scipio. His friends are Pulcher, Verres, Cicero, Buteo, Calvus, Labeo, Verrucosus, Scaevola, Cincinnatus, Crassipes, Caesar, Crassus, Strabo, Bestia, Rufus, Balbus, and Brutus. You see these names all through Roman history.
(And interesting, isn't it, that Caesar's last words can be translated as "You too, dumb-ass?")
As it happens, my nickname in middle school w as "Brutus." It's interesting how something like that can rise up twenty years later to make me feel like shit.
Originally written on January 16, 2007.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
I'm going through one of those periods when the Beatles were the greatest band ever.
1. "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band"
So begins the great album of our time.
2. "With a Little Help from My Friends" (mistitled on album label as "A Little Help from My Friends" on early pressings)
Perhaps my favorite Beatles song. How I love Ringo. The line "Do you believe in a love at first sight" reminds me of a girl who I fell in love with at first sight. It didn't work out.
3. "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds"
Definitely about drugs.
4. "Getting Better"
This song was of particular comfort while I was a teenager.
5. "Fixing a Hole" – 2:38
Kind of druggy for McCartney
6. "She's Leaving Home" – 3:37
One of those songs I sometimes forget is even on the album, because it's of such a piece with other McCartney classics like "Michelle" and "Eleanor Rigby."
7. "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!"
Almost every Beatles album had a shitty song on it, usually written by George Harrison. This is the shitty song on Sgt. Pepper not written by George Harrison.
1. "Within You Without You"
Ah, now the shitty song written by George Harrison. The cd really does a disservice by having the tracks follow so closely.
2. "When I'm Sixty-Four"
Pretty, fun, all right! I remember the documentary, "It Was twenty Years Ago Today," when some hundred year old music expert explained why this is a brilliant song. Lyndon LaRouche would argue that Queen Elizabeth wrote it.
3. "Lovely Rita"
I've always wanted to fuck a meter maid.
4. "Good Morning Good Morning"
Defeinitely in the bottom tier, although not as bad as some other songs on the album. Three crappy songs was kind of high for a Beatles album up to this point, although the Beatles would spend the rest of their careers ensuring that there was no lack of lousy songs on future records. Still, when I listen to Sgt, Pepper, I listen to all of it.
5. "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)"
When I was young and stupider, I thought the drums on this song were inspiration for hip hop.
6. "A Day in the Life"
When I was a teenager, I accidentally bumped the balance on my speakers, so when I played this song, I couldn't hear the words -- just the piano on the left speakers. Wow, that blew my fragile little mind.
Originally written on 6/2/07
I just watched the Nikki and Paulo episode of Lost. I liked it. Completely useless, tied up no ends, cruel, gruesome ending, like an EC comic book.
I just spent a hellish day on the airlines. Fourteen hours from Charlotte, NC to Seattle,WA. I couldn't believe that even Swayer tossed away those diamonds. If they get rescued -- and they WILL get rescued -- that $20 million is gonna be a lot more than the $10,000 they're guaranteed by the Warsaw Convention. I think that's bullshit. If on this hellish trip I got sucked into the fucking Twilinght Zone, and lord fucking knows that is what it felt like at times, and spent 79 days in utter purgatory, you're damn right I'd deserve a lot higher settlement that that. It's just not fucking fair.
Orginally written March 28,2007
In reviewing my output over the past year, I see that I never published any number of brilliant pieces. Jesus, what I retard I am. So, In the interest of saving the content, I'm going to go ahead and post them now. They were already counted toward the post count, so I don't get extra credit. But my readers, they get pleasure.
So, if you're wondering why the next dozen or so posts discuss disco and roller skating or something, that's why. Living in the past.
One exception is my favorite Rutles song, "Cheese and Onions," which I first heard covered by Galaxie 500 on a tribute album years ago. The lyrics brilliantly skewer John Lennon's obscurantism and arrogance:
I have always thought
in the back of my mind
Cheese and onions
I have always thought
that the world was unkind
Cheese and onions
Do I have to spell it out?
Here's a clip from the Rutles movie:
According to Eric Idle, they used the same animators from Yellow Submarine.
Monday, November 19, 2007
I jus' noticed I be nearing muh ma fuckin 1,000th post. Slap mah fro? What wiff muh ma fuckin part-time work/ freelance writing life (just one o' da many things dat I haven't bothered ta blog about), I bet I could reach dat milestone by da end o' da year. Yeah, dat would involve mo' posting than in da last three years combined, but we'll page it uh challenge. So, peep fo' enhanced activity in da next six weeks. Hopefully, I won't be reduced ta re-posting items in jive.
Yeah, da misspelling above iz deliberate. Ya' dig?
I just noticed I'm nearing my 1,000th post. Isn't that exciting? What with my part-time work/ freelance writing life (just one of the many things that I haven't bothered to blog about), I bet I could reach that milestone by the end of the year. Yeah, that would involve more posting than in the last three years combined, but we'll call it a challenge. So, look for enhanced activity in the next six weeks. Hopefully, I won't be reduced to re-posting items in jive.
Yeah, the misspelling above is deliberate.
The reason I'm even bringing up the whole tawdry business is because I laughed out loud at this paragraph from the police report:
I've never had that particular experience, but I think I've had experiences like it. Just like, "How did it come to this?"