Saturday, October 30, 2010

Balls to the Wall, Part 2: Man Up

Out here in hick country, it was several years ago when I first found myself stuck behind some jacked-up four-by with a weird sticker plastered across the rear window -- a silhouette of a cowboy, from behind, encircled with two iterations of a cryptic redneck magick spell: Cowboy Up.

That first encounter, I instinctively wondered aloud, given my prejudice against such folk, cowboy up what? Up your ass? That would jibe pretty closely with what I've always presumed is the deeply closeted nature of many hicks, the corroboration of which is the inevitable overcompensation such vehicles connote -- virtually everyone driving these wank-jobs is some 5'6" banty rooster who has to wear a giant hat to get close to the 6' range, which as we all know is where the real eagles fly.

It took a few sightings of this adhesive secret handshake to realize that my linguistically wonkish nature had neglected to allow for the possibility that "cowboy" was being used as a verb. Of course! And why not? It fits with the intrinsic notion that rednecks just know that they're working (and playing) harder than everyone else. Just ask them, they'll tell you. So naturally cowboying up imputes a higher sense of being, sorta like Tool's Forty Six & 2 minus the Jungian/Melchizedekian imagery (and drum solo). Push on, strive to be all the cowboy one can be. Larger tyres await thee in Valhalla, mighty keg-hauler!

Okay, enough picking on the rednecks. This campaign year has been the Year of the Ballbusting Shrew. Lowing cows from hither and yon, who in past years would have had to debase themselves to get a school board position, have found themselves Palinized, thrust front-and-center to compete for national positions that they are manifestly unqualified for.

Knowing this, and competing against tenured, diffident men who can't have sex anymore without a ball gag and a safe word, the default phrase for these gibbering dingbats is to emasculate the already emasculated DC lifer with the clich├ęd-before-it-was-first-uttered "Man up!". This is done knowing full well that these men, even if they possessed a pair, are culturally discouraged from responding in kind, as if pimp-slapping a nasty troll like Sharron Angle had fuck-all to do with picking on a girl.

Needless to say, it's always frustrating to see essentially meaningless catch-phrases become oft-repeated standbys of talentless hacks seeking higher office. It's this year's "Where's the beef?".

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Balls to the Wall

You almost have to admire the stones on this asshole:

Tim Profitt, the former Rand Paul volunteer who stepped on the head of a activist outside of a debate on Monday, said he thinks the woman, Lauren Valle, owes him an apology.

"I don't think it's that big of a deal," Profitt said of the incident in an interview with CBS affiliate WKYT. "I would like for her to apologize to me to be honest with you."

Profitt, a Rand Paul supporter who used to serve as a campaign coordinator for the Kentucky Senate hopeful's campaign, was caught on video on Monday stepping on Valle's head after she had been wrestled to the ground. Valle had been trying to offer a satiric award to the candidate.

Profitt goes on to describe how Valle instigated the entire thing, as if holding up a sign gives Profitt and his fellow brownshirts the right to stomp her into the sidewalk. It's as if he doesn't realize the whole thing was caught on video.

In lieu of an apology, Profitt may have to settle for a lawsuit and criminal charges. And maybe Valle should consider carrying pepper spray, or traveling with a group of friends or something, before one of these freaks actually does some damage.

In general, this seems unfortunately somewhat representative of the high-flown vitriol these losers engage in, the logical conclusion of constantly steeping in abusive levels of sheer ignorance.

I don't typically watch Olbermann or Maddow, but last night did happen to catch the latter as she traveled to Alaska to interview the three Senate candidates. She had no trouble catching Scott McAdams and Lisa Murkowski, seeing as how they both trail Security Goon Joe Miller in the polls and could use the publicity. However, Maddow's quest to interview Miller took on a strangely Roger & Me-like vibe, playing phone tag with aides, trying to schedule five minutes of facetime, culminating in a brief but revealing waste of time with Miller.

Anyhoo, perhaps the most telling part of this sojourn was Maddow attempting to engage with a street-corner gathering of Miller supporters. She asks the first guy a perfectly reasonable question, to wit, why does he support Miller? Welp, the yob replies, Miller will protect my gun rights, because "Eric Holder is the most anti-gun AG America has ever had". Sensing an opportunity to drill down into the goober's intellectual sludge, Maddow begins asking him what, precisely, Holder has done or said that makes him so anti-gun.

After several iterations of "I have no fucking clue what I'm talking about, but I believe in it enough to waste my time on a fucking street-corner instead of doing something productive with my waste of a life" answers from this halfwit, Maddow gives up and goes to the next one, a middle-aged woman who repeated the yob's gibbering catechism about Herr Holder's impending threat to forcibly confiscate y'alls gun safes, right down to the complete inability to cite even one (1) actual example of this perfidy.

Anecdotal as this is, surely we have seen enough anecdotes in enough states, nationwide clusters of seething fucktards who have seen just enough Glenn Beck to get their panties in a wad, without knowing or being able to artiiculate exactly why. Surely "the most anti-gun AG this country has ever had" would provide an abundance of ready evidence for the enterprising protester, much less just one even half-assed example.

Yet these people were clearly using their whole asses. Miller will no doubt win, as most likely will Sharron "Black football jerseys make the baby Jesus cry!" Angle, and several other goofballs from this seemingly endless clown car. Hell, if Delaware was bigger than my left nut, even former wannabe-Wiccan (and full-time dingbat) Christine O'Donnell would probably be giving charisma-free Chris Coons a run for his money.

Back during the comparatively bucolic Cheney regime, I mused often about what sore winners they and their supporters were. It goes double for this year's model of shitbird; these brainless fuckers will simply be emboldened by any victory, no matter how puling, granting themselves the right to violence when someone confronts them with disagreeable ideas -- or, infinitely worse -- facts.

Of course, a primary culprit is Duh Media, with its clearly vested interest (especially in the wake of the awesome Citizens United SCROTUS ruling) in ginning up a pro wrestling match every electoral season. They've given these morons so much fucking airtime, they've legitimized them to substantial swaths of other morons, who are right to be angry, but scattershot in their focus and intellectual honesty. It was ever thus, obviously, but usually not with so much moron empowerment.

It is some small consolation that, in the long run, these are the people who will be spending their retirement living on cat food (if not actual cats), but again, they won't be happy until they drag the rest of the country down to their level, pin them to the sidewalk, and stand on their shoulder. Like we always say, maybe Darwin was wrong after all.

These people are despicable, not because I disagree with them, not even because they don't know what they're talking about most of the time, but because they are intellectually dishonest -- willfully, deliberately so -- and worse yet, they have no reservations about resorting to violence when they don't get their way or someone openly disagrees with them. If Duh Peepul want government by temper tantrum, then these are your folk. Good luck with that.

Monday, October 18, 2010

The Roof Is On Fire

Enough is enough -- I think it's high time I gave a shout out to my homiez in Cell Block Tea, the grass-roots populist movement that just happens to be supporting only Republican candidates. Their slate of lying dingbats, racist morons, and fascist scumbags is exactly what they want, need, and most importantly, deserve. Vote 'em in, early and often, see what you get.

As for the rest of the country, being forced to deal with their fallout? Fuck 'em. Yes, some people will valiantly schlep to the polls, and do their duty to at least try to hold back the impending tide of teabag stupid. But the fact is, the majority of people will not bother even to show up and vote, because, well, I don't fuckin' know why. On the one hand, I agree with Pete Townshend that not voting is just as political of an act as voting; on the other hand, knowing the average douchebag, the disaffected apathy reeks of laziness and intellectual poverty, not deliberate intent and intellectual integrity (a concept which has never occurred to the fucktard teabaggers).

It seems that the people who have the most to lose are the most enamored of these screeching assholes. I say let 'em have their way, and when they're denied medical coverage, their local support programs are eviscerated, and they're living on fucking cat food, they can look in the mirror and congratulate themselves for their fine work.

Putting in More 'n' Better Democrats has achieved perhaps a different flavor of gutless incrementalism, but naught else. They seem content to finish what Fredo started, and snivel and cringe at the emasculating japes lobbed by the ballbusting, dried-up teabag shrews. Both parties are the butt-slaves to corrupt bankers and thieving rentier capitalists who, if we had any guts, would have been gibbeted and guillotined in the town square by now. It is a corrupt edifice, and perhaps burning it down, if people are hellbent in voting directly against their own rational self-interest, is in order.

We don't need no water, let the motherfucker burn.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


Ahahahaha. Even for bullshit debates, the true believers just can't help themselves. Cupcake O'Donnell wastes no time in going for the meat-and-taters talkin' points, since most everything else is past her grasp:

"My opponent wants to go to Washington and rubber-stamp failed spending bills," she said. "This is wrong. Uncle Sam needs to be cut off."

She also wondered about Coons' patriotism. "If you've ever questioned whether America is a beacon of freedom and justice, then he's your guy."

OK, the first part, while hackneyed (as if Republitards don't spend other people's money like water), still has a debatable point in it -- either spending is rampant and wasteful, and needs to be cut across the board, or people just don't want their spending ox getting gored, and before you know it, nothing gets cut. That is a point that can be debated.

But there is no sensible, logical jump that takes you from that to impugning Coons' belief in American virtue, presumably over his sarcastically-titled "Bearded Marxist" thesis. It's just weak, even for someone who's spent most of their adult life campaigning against the perils of masturbation and homosexuality.

Asked about evolution, which O'Donnell has said she believes is a myth, she said the question was "irrelevant." When pushed by Wolf Blitzer, a CNN anchor who was one of the moderators, she said: "Local schools should make that decision."

Friends 'n' neighbors, if you need to ask why China and India are drinking our collective milkshake, there's your answer.


Bullies, of course, are much in the "news" these days, as if they suddenly cropped up of a nonce, and had not always been there. Perhaps they are there in school to prepare you for the more institutional bullies you face through life, in the various guises of bureaucratic administrations -- teachers, friends, enemies, bosses, co-workers, politicians promising "change" every so often whilst they yank your dick and coddle the rentiers. We've all observed and/or dealt with them at one point or another, with varying levels of success. One thing is for sure -- asshole kids come from asshole parents. You can bank on it every time.

Every once in a while, though, an especially vicious subset crops up, so gleefully cruel, so overwhelmingly more powerful than their target, that you find yourself wishing for a murderous home invasion, or a one-home radius natural gas explosion, or a nice shoulder-launched Katyusha to dispense with the problem.

'I’m not proud of myself because this went from a neighbourhood dispute to a huge thing.'

Heh-indeedy. No, this motherless fuck isn't mortified because she suddenly realized that she was taunting and harassing a seven-year-old who is in the midst of a very nasty, grueling fate. She's bummed because the rest of the planet found out what a truly horrible person she is. I honestly cannot even imagine what sort of person does this shit. It's a scant step above child molestation or animal torture; it is the strong preying on the very weakest and most vulnerable, not for food, but for the sport of it.

Over a fucking bouncy-house. Seriously.

‘My husband is a good person and I hope he doesn’t lose his job. I hope our family doesn’t lose his job. I’m the bad person,’ said Mrs Petkov.

‘I feel horrible for what I’ve said and done. That little girl shouldn’t have had to lose her mum like that and she shouldn’t have to lose her life either. I just hope she didn’t see those pictures.’

Fuck that. Scott Petkov (or Petrov, the article really can't seem to decide which) refers to his wife's "brutal honesty" that the neighbors can't handle. Like she's Richard Pryor or something, man, and your phony bourgeois bullshit can't handle how real she is, with her Photoshopping and spray-camo-painting the Deathmobile. In your face, plastic exurbia!

I hope he gets his ass fired, just for having such a cunt wife and putting up with her bullshit. Grow a fucking pair, and put your psycho cow into her proper place, sporto. I hope she gets fired as well, if in fact she has a goddamned job. I can't imagine anyone hiring her for anything now. I hope they lose their house, their car, their dog, their Facebook page. I hope their kids realize what cocksuckers their parents really are.

Honestly, I am just flummoxed at how human beings can turn into whatever the fuck Jennifer and Scott Petkov are. It's just incomprehensible, how someone can get so butthurt over a perceived birthday-party snub that they devote themselves to tormenting the family of a dying child. What the hell is wrong with these people?

There is a point where you have to wonder how people can be so irredeemably vile and still live with themselves (or each other). This is well beyond that point.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Deep Musical Thought #2

Like many of the kidz seeking lulz on thar intartubez (or however they say it in the 'hood), I enjoy the "I see what you did there" meme. It occurs to me that the true original I See What You Did There band, pound for pound, before Radiohead, Tool, whoever, is REM. Serves me right for throwing it over to the "classic rock" station in a recent moment of weakness (i.e., the CD had ended and I couldn't change it in traffic). I'd forgotten how fucking dreadful they really were, but Stand brought it all back. At least Fred Durst never got mistaken by retard critics as some kind of iconic poet.

Deep Musical Thought

I should send the ZRock station a thank-you note, for continuing to remind me just how little I miss Limp Bizkit and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Over and over again.

It's a public service, really, though playing better music would also be considered one.

Tuesday, October 05, 2010

99 Problems: Dunce Dunce Revolution

Oy. What hath Palin wrought, you know? It was bad enough we had this belligerent nitwit dumped on us, but now her ideological gender-mates are cropping up hither and sometimes yon. And they are bad enough in the sense that you don't even need to go into their politics or positions (since none of them are willing to discuss their actual ideas anyway). They're just ridiculous people to begin with.

I don't care that Christine O'Donnell may or may not have "dabbled" in "witchcraft" (which was probably a bullshit embellishment of her being a hanger-on to either Dungeons and Dragons nerds or headbanger poseurs in the first place). The concern is that she has yet to articulate a position on anything; she apparently seriously believes she'll just waltz into Capitol Hill with a Ginsu pen and cut spending as far as the eye can see.

Of course, she's never held a real job either, not one that requires reporting to a boss and justifying your continued existence. So much for this simplistic "I'm you" crap. An even bigger concern is that she has spent her entire adult life campaigning against fairly routine things like masturbation. I don't know what to make of a person who fails to recognize biology for what it is.

Then there's Sharron Angle, Nevada's crazy cat lady, minus the cats. As with O'Donnell, it's not the actual politics (because again, Flying Spaghetti Monster forbid that they actually talk about what they do and how they plan to do it), so much as the basic notion that a person who campaigns against black football jerseys on religious grounds is simply mentally unstable, and probably shouldn't be trusted with more than a three-figure budget.

So beyond politics, there's just sheer intellectual quackery, not to mention dishonesty. And then there's eMeg Whitman, supposedly more reputable and legitimate, by virtue of her awesome bidness experience. But this is someone who has built a personal fortune on insider trading and opportunities, situations that, legal or not, are denied to 99.9% of all other human beings on the planet, period.

And really, how great of a businessperson are you when you blow an eighth of a billion dollars of your own money to be governor of California, a job sure to be as thankless and winless as head coach of the Oakland Raiders? Especially since, for all the high-dollar media blitzes she bought, Whitman is running maybe neck-and-neck with Jerry Brown, who has spent dick on his campaign, and waited until after Labor Day to even bother advertising (as it should be).

But the first rule of politics is, don't spend your own money. Yes, yes, throwing your own cash in presents the veneer of incorruptibility, but as Jesse Unruh famously said, if you can't take thier money, drink their whiskey, fuck their women, and still vote against them the next day, you don't belong there.

This is the level of incompetence I'm supposed to elect as governor? Why not just re-elect Schwarzenegger as goobernator for life and have done with it? At least Ahnult is occasionally entertaining; the best we'll get from eMeg -- before she inevitably jumps to be running mate to Mitt Romney's '12 Magic Underwear campaign -- is an occasional update on her evil snowboarder son. Frankly, just naming a kid "Griff Harsh V" -- yes, the fucking fifth, goddammit -- is a sign of epically poor judgment.

People, I'm tellin' ya, we gotta start judging people on intangibles, if they refuse to give us tangibles. As tempted as I am to let them choke on their own fumes o' stupid, this teabagger shit, it does no one any good -- except, of course, their corporate benefactors.

Not to implicitly support the hoary notion of smoke-filled backroom deals, but the idea that politics is best served by installing complete neophytes is dangerously stupid. Sure, we've railed against stupid, gutless compromises in the past, because such creatures deserve to be called what they are. But politics is, in the end, the art of reasonable compromise, and adding bozos like these to the mix just makes a toxic pot more so.

Part of me hopes the retards get what they think they want, just to watch them twist in the wind. After all, their moron bullshit won't affect me, not for a long time, by which point I'm sure (wishful thinking) I'll be just another flatulent gazillionaire. Let these Scrooge McDuck wannabes hoist themselves on their dull fantasies of striking it rich with whatever nose gold they can dig out, and devil take the hindmost. It'd be worth it just to watch their state-subsidized Rascals re-appropriated. Fuck 'em.

The problem is, no matter how iconoclastic I am temperamentally, I still trust and believe in the Scottish Enlightenment ideals of what this nation was supposed to be, what it still should and could be if even fifteen percent got their fucking shit together and brought the wood to the dipshits currently poisoning the discourse.

Teabaggers are certainly not a "populist" movement, not in the conventional sense, and its backers do not represent the best interests of its participants, pure and simple. Only in America could a cokehead morning zoo deejay -- who was so spiritually empty that he and his wife converted to Mormonism after shopping around (if only they had found magic applesauce before the magic underwear) -- print money selling easily disproved lies to addled dipshits.

Not all of these assholes will win, but the fact that any of them are even in the running, as if "throw the bums out" suddenly translated into "find the dumbest motherfucker you can", should be warning enough.

Friday, October 01, 2010

Dirty Sanchez

Oh my. Well, that's just great -- who's going to read viewer tweets throughout the lunch hour for the Cable, um, News Network? I mean, Nancy Grace and her twelve chins can't be everywhere all at once, can they?

Mr. Stewart has made jokes about Mr. Sanchez more than 20 times in the last five years, according to a search of the show’s Web site. Or as Mr. Sanchez put it, “You watch yourself on his show every day and all they ever do is call you stupid.”

And yet Sanchez still persists in being stupid. It does not -- can not -- occur to someone like Sanchez that maybe he is foolish, does and says things deserving of ridicule with enough regularity to merit some attention every so often. Ah, the price paid for greatness, no?

To the extent that Sanchez is "offensive", it's not the lame attempt at Jew-baiting, so much as the histrionic crap he trucks in, sensationalism, intellectual dishonesty, bad-faith arguments, etc. That and the complete lack of self-awareness he oozes from every pore -- like every corporate media whore, Sanchez does not realize that he doesn't really do anything special, that there are literally thousands of bubble-heads with a fresh communications degree who can do exactly what he did, and will smoke every pole that swings in their faces just for the opportunity. Reading the news does not require talent; it merely requires the determined belief that your shit don't stink.

The over/under for Sanchez to re-appear at Faux Noise, nursing the usual librul-media grievances for a different claque of mouth-breathers, is three weeks.