Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Palin at it again

Well, I guess we can add aerobic activity to the ever-growing list of things Ms. Sarah Palin is deluded over. Look at that first sentence - she's confident she can beat Obama at a long distance run. Who fucking cares? And, no fucking way! He could chain smoke the entire way and it'd still be a blowout.

Yes, she can beat him at praying, at removing stains in the laundry, at speaking like an imbecile, at blowing a nationally televised interview, at overreacting to a goddamn joke, at having children, at making a snow angel, at a pasta eating contest, at Bible Blurt, at a wet t-shirt contest (although it might be pretty close - you seen Barak topless? The guy's a stud)... Then, it typical pallin' around with stupidity fashion Palin casts another stone at John McCain:

"I feel so crappy if I go more than a few days without running. I have to run," she said. "A great frustration I had during the campaign was when the McCain staff wouldn't carve out time for me to go for a run. The days never went as well if I couldn't get out there and sweat."

Leave the man alone, Sarah!

Look, Sarah, you can't beat Obama at the important stuff: basketball, looking cool, smoking cigarettes, a spelling contest, and, sweetheart, you ain't gonna finagle the presidency away from him by being cute, chummy, and a down home kinda gal.

Face it. The Republicans need Bob Dole. Again. Where ya at, Bob Dole?

June 30, 2009
Posted: 09:23 PM ET

Palin says she has the endurance to beat President Obama in a road race.
Palin says she has the endurance to beat President Obama in a road race.

(CNN) – Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin is confident Barack Obama can be beaten — in a long distance run.

The former Republican vice presidential candidate told Runner's World Magazine if it came down to a foot race between the two famous politicians, she'd likely come out on top.

"I betcha I'd have more endurance," Palin said in an interview published on the magazine's Web site Tuesday. "My one claim to fame in my own little internal running circle is a sub-four marathon. It wasn't necessarily a good running time, but it proves I have the endurance within me to at least gut it out and that is something.

"If you ever talk to my old coaches they'd tell you, too," she continued. "What I lacked in physical strength or skill I made up for in determination and endurance. So if [it] were a long race that required a lot of endurance I'd win."

The avid runner also revealed an accident she had only days before the vice presidential debate last fall, when she fell on a trail while jogging at Sen. John McCain's Arizona ranch.

"I was so stinkin' embarrassed that a golf cart full of Secret Service guys had to pull up beside me," she said of the fall. "My hands just got torn up and I was dripping blood. In the debate you could see a big fat ugly Band-Aid on my right hand."

Declaring "sweat is my sanity," Palin also said some of her worst days on the campaign trail were those when McCain staffers did not schedule time for her to run.

"I feel so crappy if I go more than a few days without running. I have to run," she said. "A great frustration I had during the campaign was when the McCain staff wouldn't carve out time for me to go for a run. The days never went as well if I couldn't get out there and sweat."

And the bands that keep her going on the long runs? Palin said she kicks off with "old Van Halen and AC/DC" before going into country and ending with "mellow Amy Grant songs.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Trying to have fun with near Family. Christ, Christ, let me be!

I love my partner. I'm also fond of the partner's family. They're generous, caring, relatively open-minded, compassionate, and generally a good time. That is, until it's time for the prayer.

I vacationed, at the lake, with nine members (including me) of the partner's family last week. This is only a sliver of the potential crowd of familial Christians that could be had at a get together involving the partner's family. Or, my family for that matter. The makeup of the vacation house consisted of seven devout Christians and two atheists. The atheists were silently represented by the partner and myself. You see, the family still is under the impression that the partner is practicing, and although they know I don't adhere to their denominational idiosyncratic beliefs, I don't think they're on to the fact I'm a "heathen." Strangely enough I've noticed the word heathen is being thrown around rather loosely these days by members of the partner's family. But, I think that is more chance than anything. They have no reason to suspect I'm a "militant atheist," as my former therapist believes.

I've had this discussion with my own family. The pops and I have agreed to disagree, and although it kills him (the former therapist weighed in on this one, too - said my Dad was worried he was going to lose me in the next life - I responded with, "well, that maybe so, but the truth is he's losing me now, and that's all any of us are promised - even the devout"), he avoids commenting, which makes life a lot easier and the reality that my father's beliefs have absolutely no evidence-based feet to stand on less, well, noticeable. We can discuss the weather and our lives and avoid the tension god and his cronies are causing us. My mother and siblings agree in varying degrees with my own stance on god. We can all talk about it and come to some understanding, whether that means Christian indoctrination is in many instances abusive or god is a perilous pipe dream. It's civil. We've all invested some time in asking tough questions about the unanswerables associated with faith. And, we're comfortable with the large void there. Instead, we've filled it with Skittles, science, compassion for our fellow humans, curry, and any product Apple pushes on us. We love you, Steve Jobs. If you need a kidney, let us know.

Okay, so back to the vacation and the partner's family. Springing my atheism or that of my partner's on the unsuspecting family isn't something I'm terribly excited about doing. I think some people are to a point in their lives where turning their backs on a god they perceive to be benevolent, omniscient, omnipotent, and fatherly to be a battle I'm, unfortunately, not yet fit to wage even as a militant. I would never avoid direct questioning, but I have no plans of unsolicited evangelizing directed at people I see as inherently good, tolerant, relatively flexible folks (yeah, if I have a chance at alliteration I'm taking it 100% of the time). Even if I don't think Christianity collectively is a global positive for our world, I can admit many Christians are.

Still, I am extremely uncomfortable around the time of each and every meal. "Who's turn is it to pray?" One will say. I'm suppose to be the ninth in that line, and I don't want to make a scene, so I just lay low and wait for any name other than my own to be called. Don't say Bennington, I think. As long as I don't hear my name called I'm fair. Yes, after there are repeat prayers it gets awkward. We all know Ben hasn't had his turn. But, the last time I said the prayer, I made no mention of god or jesus or anything. I only want to thank tangible aspects of the meal before us: the farmers, the migrant workers, the truck drivers, the stockers at the grocer, Peter Durand, the inventor of the tin can, the cooks (us), et cetera. Sure, I want the meal to be nurishing, who doesn't? But, I sure as hell don't think god or this ritual itself is powerful enough to combat Botulism. I find the whole tradition to be a monumental waste of time. Giving thanks is an honorable thing - no argument - but the dude upstairs didn't do anything to make this watermelon more flavorful or seedless, thanks.

One last thing: Why does google automatically capitalize the word god in the labels. That bothers me a bit, blogger. If you're going to autocorrect god then autocorrect Steve Jobs, too. The man is a fucking genius!

Your thoughts? Commenting is cool!

Sunday, June 21, 2009

The Great Staperclip Debate: Part One

Marge says paper clips, hands down. Staples don’t know how to multitask, and I have no patience for anyone or anything lacking functional versatility. Paper clips have uses yet to be discovered, but the staple’s versatility has obviously been exhausted. Here’s a great example. Just the other day, I heard, for the billionth time, “how much is a gram, really?” Well, if you’re British, you’re fluent with the kilogram or the stone or some other senseless weight measure equally offensive to Americans, but even you probably have no idea of what a gram actually feels like. And to all you stuffsters who also happen to be pharmacokineticists and/or dirty hippies, what are your scales really telling you? Just think of the paper clip, and there you are: the perfect way to describe the approximate product of force and mass required to generate a gram! Yes!

Also, they’re so colorful-some even have stripes!- and you can keep them in those little magnetic circular jars on your desk. (Does anyone not love desktop office supplies?) You can link them together into chains of infinite length, which you cannot do with staples. And, most importantly, have you ever tried to take a staple out with your fingernail, because you always lose your staple remover? (Staple removers are almost never kept on the actual desk; I bet your staple remover is buried in one of your lesser drawers too.) Do you like cracking your fingernail in half and slicing your finger open in the process? But you need that staple out, and you need that paper to retain its virginal crease-free dimension, because you want to copy it, or scan it to electronic format, without having to make a copy of it because you already have a copy of it and you don’t want to waste paper/energy/ink by copying something you already have because you care about trees and energy even though you hate the word ‘green’ when it’s used frivolously. A paper clip removed leaves no trace, but a staple removed leaves a scar.

No, seriously, I’m getting a bit worked up about this. Does anyone staple anymore? Why are we even debating this? I bet Brazil is already entirely staple-free at this point. They’re probably running their cars on recycled staples. Meanwhile, the leading Brazilian office supply store is called Grampeador. Have you been to your local Staples store lately?

Dear Readers, in the time between my initial response to this query and today, I have realized that I was wrong about staples. I haven’t slept the night through since I wrote this. I can’t believe those words were mine. I am so sorry. I’m not going to try to explain. Well, I have been dealing with a lot lately, okay? Right now, I just want to focus on moving on; I can’t afford to dwell on my mistakes. I’m sorry.

- Marge

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Maybe one of us was going to talk about boom boxes

Well I fired up the ol' mimeograph machine here to weigh in on a few of my favorite stereotypes: sony, technics, car, that sort of thing. Had a nice article all planned out. Then I start glancing around StuffPo and what do I find? Bennington pre-emptively mocked my whole concept with the subtitle of his stereotype article. Clearly my ideas don't pass mustard at Bennington's mental hot dog stand.

So here I am all signed in and no article to write; guess it's time to free associate. The last thing I read in Bennington's article was "Stereotypes reveal a variety of wonderful information about people ranging from genitalia size, learning ability, levels of apathy, generosity, frugality, sense of humor, and proclivity for violent behavior." Now that's good and true, but it's all abstract, head-in-the-clouds type stuff. You know what's way more tangible and contains that same information? Artist Tony Tasset ("I peed in my pants," 1994) does...



Uric acid.

Liquid gold.

Now, I've been a mellow yellow kind of guy since I learned how to rhyme - largely in protest against desert dwellers' backyard lawns, as alluded to in my "things i hate" article. I've even tried to carry the "brown is mellow" torch on a few occasions - usually just some philosophical repartee to cover up the fact that I sometimes forget to flush. Just now it's hitting me. How can I totally squirt my righteousness in the face of the Phoenix Golf Club? I'm going to start peeing on my veggies. That'll show em. Two birds, one stone; no more drip irrigation; no more bullshit flushing. Life is good.

Urine is two things: wet and stinky. Everyone knows plants need the wet. Fewer realize that plants love the stinky. That stinky is a nitrogen based fertilizer bar none. And someday, when our salmon and steelhead runs are completely annihilated from fresh water diversion, when oil has peaked and the wave of synthetic fertilizer that sustained our explosive population growth has receded back into the ether leaving a gaggle of dead golfers and golf courses in its wake, a day long after my prize zucchini takes state, I will be the last one chuckling as I saunter out into the moonlit ruins of a once mighty civilization and drench my veggies in pure. liquid. gold.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Clip O' O' O' Da Week

This one's a no brainer. Mo shared this one with me months and months ago, but, and it's hard to admit this, I couldn't find it until now. I wasn't doing a ton of searching. Nevertheless, I've got it now. And, if you aren't one of the 13 million people to watch this one on youtube, well, you've missed out. No more! Enjoy.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Stereotypin': No, I isn't in the market for a new boombox

Stereotypes are many things - ignorant, offensive, inaccurate, and fun. A few have merit. For example, all Mexicans take after and speak English, if they do, which they fucking should, like their king Mexican, Geraldo Rivera. That's dead on. No argument there, right? And, all white Americans think all people with Hispanic roots, in Geraldo's case more Jewish than Puerto Rican, are Mexican. It's just one of those facts of life - like water runs down hill.

Stereotypes reveal a variety of wonderful information about people ranging from genitalia size, learning ability, levels of apathy, generosity, frugality, sense of humor, and proclivity for violent behavior. None of which can be trusted, outside of the aforementioned Mexicans/Geraldo/white America phenomenon, and the obviously accurate old adage that women are 1) inferior to men, 2) overly emotional, c) weak, 4) only fit to work serving the superior gender, V) and, lastly, responsible for the fall of all mankind. This I know. Thanks a fuckload, ladies! Read it in a pretty important little biography about this guy. It's a decent read, but it's, like, more popular than one of those goddamn Oprah books, so I'll avoid mentioning it by name. Nobody wants to be beatin' over the head with that kind of thing. After all, it's just a book! And, it's not like the thing won a Pulitzer. I'm sure you have a dozen lying around you're just dying to get to. Who needs another one?

My goal for this post isn't to get you to abandon all stereotypes. As I've discussed, many are sensible. I'm actually looking to clear up some common misunderstandings, misrepresentations, inaccuracies, and general shit floating around about my people: the anonymous. Let's start with that last sentence. I've had more people than I can count (and, no, bigots, it isn't because I, and all my incognito brethren and sisteren have difficulty with numbers) say, "Oh, ya'll are so arrogant. Ya'll think your shit don't stink." First, our shit does stink. In many instances it is unbearable. We actually take great pride in our aromatic idiosyncrasies related to digestion, thanks! We have a competition and award for it at our annual convention. Second, we refer to ourselves as secret people, us, anonymous, and, at times, the anonymous, but never will you see us employ the use of capitalization. Believe me, it has nothing to do with arrogance. It's actually secretive. Unfortunately, I can't say. Don't press me on it. Really! I'm serious. Leave it alone. Fuck. Okay, okay, we fucking drew straws and the guy who wrote the four appropriate titles on that selected sheet had this thing about capitalization. Happy now? He was an anarchist. I think that played a big role in him leaving our group. He used to say, "I'm totally against capitalism." He wouldn't even capitalize his own name. I think it was drew or brian or hugh. I can't recall.

Nevertheless we stuck with it, because we agreed prior to drawing we would. I think that brings up an important fact: we are honest, trustworthy people. If we say we're going to do something, we do it. A lot of people just can't see that in us. I think it has much to do with our lack of face. We're, admittedly, a tough read. We don't exhibit a twitching of the brow when we lie - for two reasons. We're not stoic at a poker table. We're faceless at a poker table, Lady Gaga. How you gonna read that? That's why I've written this. Now you know. Just like anything else you read on the internet, this, too, is true.

Many times people will say to me and my friends, "You must be important. Anonymity is reserved to those who have something to lose." We have to bridge this gap. We have members who are doctors, lawyers, politicians, and dental hygientists. But, we also have janitors, busboys, and the unemployed. Most are smart. Some are dumb. Some live in mansions. Others in mobile homes. We're a diverse bunch. Sure, Deep Throat was one of our guys. In a study I just made up, the pseudonym Deep Throat is as recognizable as the name of Sarah Palin. I'll concede that point: Deep Throat is important. But, we also have Max, the librarian, and Karla, the bus driver. Of course we've changed both Max and Karla's names and occupations to protect their identities in the anynomous community, but our Maxes and Karlas are just as common as the Deep Throats.

Lastly, it'd be incorrect to assume we secret people (aka us) represent all heights within society. We don't adhere to that standard distribution found out on the street corner. We're all either average height or tall. No of us are short. We don't have a single representative from the left side of the Gaussian function for stature. Many on the right. Some in the middle. It's not intentional - just the way it is.

Hope this clears some things up for ya!

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Marge’s Conservative Slam Dunk pho duh Week*

“It is bad enough that biographical considerations carry such weight in considerations of nominees for the Supreme Court. But, if biography must be elaborated, let it at least be done ‘in context.’”

This yesterday from Thomas Sowell, who, in a column where he criticizes Sonia Sotomayor for the credit she seems to have been unfairly given for rising to success from a difficult set of circumstances, notes that her ghetto wasn’t nearly as ghetto as what the liberal media has led us to believe. In fact, that ‘hood where she grew up just doesn’t make the cut when it comes to Harlem street cred. Compared to the real projects, Sotomayor’s childhood government housing could be considered “quaint;” it probably wouldn’t even be worthy as a backdrop for one of those rap music videos on the MTV. Hell, it was basically a government-subsidized country club!

“There were standards for getting into the projects of those days and, if you didn't live up to those standards, they put you out. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was quoted as saying, ‘When kids played on the grass, their parent would get a warning.’”

So what’s the three-point message here? (1) It shouldn’t matter that you’re from the projects? (2) But since you are, I guess we ought to point out that the projects you came from weren’t all bad, that they had high standards for lawn care? (3) And it’s all backed up with a quote-‘in context,’ of course-from Kareem Adbul-Jabar. You just can’t argue with that.

This is really priceless. Thanks again for the sweet, sweet irony. I really appreciate how I don’t even have to think to see it. It’s like Irony for Dummies.

*Use of the work ‘week’ not to be construed in any way to indicate that author will provide slam dunks weekly or on any other regular interval; if you want reliable irony please click here

Monday, June 8, 2009

Clip, Clip, Clip of the Week

I was recently in Dallas, TX mixing business with pleasure. A lively cocktail! After 24 hours of debauchery, I flipped on the television, and was greeted with the ad below. I can tell you if I'm ever in trouble, I'm flying the hammer in to get my out of that trouble. This man knows how to work out a problem.