The entire Omniphobic team has been working on a very labor-intensive project for the last month, and has had zero time for blogging. We will be back shortly!
As we may not talk to you until after the new year, everyone have have a safe and happy holiday season!
Oh, and for the search agents: Britney Spears Nude.. and butt raped... By a donkey!
Richard Dawkins, author of The God Delusion, reads his hate mail. This is a great example of how Christians are the ultimate hypocrites.
A theremin is one of the earliest electronic instruments and was invented by Léon Theremin in Russia at the end of World War I. It is unique in that it is played without the musician (aka thereminist) making physical contact with the instrument. A traditional theremin has two antennas which independently control the frequency (pitch) and amplitude (volume). Its sound is most commonly associated with B-grade science-fiction movies of the 1950's.
Although never an overwhelming commercial success, various incarnations of the theremin have been manufactured over the years and new ones are still available today. They range from inexpensive enthusiast versions all the way to professional concert models. Theremins can also be purchased in kit form.
Now that you've learned something, here's a feline thereminist to entertain you:
Dammit.. here we go.
Thanksgiving is just a few weeks away, and Christmas soon after. I FUCKING HATE holidays. And not just the "Big ones", I hate them all. Yes, I am a grumpy bastard, and fuck you for asking.
Holidays are times of guilt, judgement, spending, failed expectations, forced emotions, and unwanted guests. Even the "fun" holidays bring with them false expectations..
"Hey, what are you guys doing for labor day??"
"Well I was going to sleep in, watch TV, and generally be a lazy sack of shit.. But now that I have to give my plans, I guess I will go out to a lake / waterpark / BBQ / party to make sure that my holiday wasn't lame!"
I especially hate the religious holidays. I am an Athiest, as is my wife. BUT we have a daughter, and I can't deny her Christmas and Easter! SO, just for her, we pretend to "Celebrate" someone else's fairytale.
Back to my basic reasons for this hatred:
- guilt:
I always have a feeling a guilt hanging over me on a holiday. On someone's birthday, I feel guilty that I didn't do more. On New Year's Eve, I feel guilty that we're not doing something more exciting. I never feel like I am celebrating holidays, I am always surviving them.
- judgement
I never feel like I am living up to other people's expectations on what I should be doing for a holiday. Either I didn't do enough for my wife / daughter / friend, or I didn't celebrate it effectively. I dread the question "So, what did you guys do for the holiday?" or "What did you get your daughter for her birthday?" Like I am always being graded on the answer.
- spending
It's Christmas, time to max out your credit cards!! If you dont buy more than you can afford, you must not really love your family! The most expensive things I have bought my daughter are the ones she cares about the least. However, the $1 puzzles from Target are her favorites. Fuck you and your consumerism.
- failed expectations
America now starts celebrating Christmas at the end of September. 3 months of building up to a few minutes of joy (my daughter opening presents) followed by hours of annoyance (driving around to see all 4 set of parents). Or Thanksgiving, where you spend hours and hours preparing a meal that gets devoured in 10 minutes. Woo hoo.
- forced emotions
"Hey!!! Look how happy we are!!!"
"Why? Did something good happen?"
"NO!! We are happy because the calendar says it's time!"
I don't like pretending to be happy. I don't want to celebrate these fucking holidays.
- unwanted guests
Pretty self explanatory. The holidays force us to see a lot of people that we otherwise would like to avoid (mostly ones we are related to). Joy.
I apologize if you are all in to the holidays, and I just pooped in your cornflakes, but I had to vent. It's either this, or back to throwing puppies in the woodchipper.
The Westboro Baptist Church have indicated in a press release that they will be picketing the funeral of Madelyn Payne Dunham, the grandmother of President-elect Barack Obama, who passed way just two days before the historic election. Madelyn and Stanley Dunham raised their grandson from the age of ten in Honolulu, Hawaii, in the same high rise apartment where lived until she succumbed to cancer at the age of 86.
From their press release, the Westboro Baptist Church states:
Obama says his grandmother Dunham raised him, and, her "influence on his manner and the way he viewed the world was substantial." If so, then she has much to answer for as she stands before the Lord. Obama says he will use the White House as a Bully Pulpit to advance the cause of murdering more babies and same-sex marriage. "God hath appointed a day, in the which He will judge the world in righteousness by Christ." Acts 17:31.
The Westboro Baptist Church, classified by some as a hate group, is generally ostracized by other religious organizations. They describe themselves as following the principles of Primitive Baptists and Calvinists, however this notion is rejected by most mainstream followers of those Christian ideologies.
The WBC is best known for their protests at the funerals of members of the US armed forces. A group of motorcycle enthusiasts calling themselves the Patriot Guard Riders, comprised mostly of veterans, was initially formed to shield family members and other mourners from WBC protesters. The group now reports over 130,000 members and has expanded their efforts to honor fallen law enforcement officers and fire department personnel. They also attend welcome home events for soldiers and do volunteer work for veteran's organizations.
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No amusements or platitudes this time. Get out there and vote. Today is the day that we, as Americans, exercise our part in the system. We are a representative republic, and without the votes of the people, the system will fail.
Though it is obvious where our political leanings are, who you vote for ultimately doesn't matter. What matters is that you take part in the process, that you make your voice heard, regardless of the name it speaks.
I'd go off on some lofty tear about how this is "an historical election", bla bla bla, but the fact is, they're ALL historical in their own way.
The point is, get out there and fulfill your civic duty. Cast your vote in the way you see fit, but CAST IT.
Thanks to Ernies for bringing this one to my attention. Kinda depressing, but there is hope for our future.
Music as an art form is an ever changing landscape, an entity unto itself that shifts and rolls like the daily tides, centering in on the societal and philosophical issues that bore into the minds of all thinking people. Though a subjective art, music allows us to expand boundaries, to commune on a primal level and to garner a greater understanding and appreciation of the myriad human experiences we all cope with. Inasmuch as it can relieve our burdens and soothe our pain, so too can it light a fire within us, bubbling passions to the forefront in a fiery thunderstorm of pent up energy.
Many communicate in this secondary language, though few achieve the fluency necessary to move and shape a generation. Every once in awhile, though, a piece of magnificence, an object of sheer beauty can find its way from the troubled and tormented psyche of the artist and shine forth to the world like a beacon of hope.
Happenings such as this are rare, only occurring a handful of times each generation. With the numerous volumes of music available at any time, it takes a great deal of effort to sort through the offerings and remove the chaff. But when one finds that connection with a masterpiece, it engenders a bond so strong that even the pains and rigors of life cannot strip them away from us. Music is as intrinsic to us as our names and are every bit as difficult to unwind from our egos.
But where to start the search for objects of perfection magnitudes higher than what we are daily presented? How best to seek out those melodies which will engage themselves in our deepest emotions? With the intimidating amount of musical information available to us, how do we determine what is best?
Music being subjective, there is no simple answer. We can, however, look to the opinions of those we know and trust in order to find the masterworks that define a generation. But one must be careful. For every "Cherry Pie", there are a thousand "Tommy" to be found. For each "Falco 3" there are endless "Dark Side of the Moon" afoot.
And so, without further ado, please allow me to take you on a journey through one of the great masterworks of the late 1980's. An album that encapsulates and exudes the raw, animal fear manifest in the streets of Los Angeles in a heated time in American history, as well as dealing with the range of emotions captured in our day to day interactions with one another. This is a piece that really allows you to exist within the minds of the creators, to share with them a slice of their life that will forever change you as a person, emotionally and spiritually.
I present to you... Dr. Feelgood.
The three chords which commence the album burst forth like a choir of cherubic trumpeting before the loud descent into madness. The horrors of street life are manifest in this first track, bleating of sirens coupled with the cold and dissonant voice of dispatch describing another OD'ed youth. The realities of the tough, gritty life no doubt currently lived by Vince Neil and cohorts is arrogantly shoved in your face. You may wish to turn your head to avoid the sights and sounds he and his motley crew present to you, but their reality exists up close and personal. Try as you might, you will never remove from your mind the horrors they wish to unleash. The terror mounts and multiplies until finally the track ends with the screeching of tires... capped off by the eerie silence of the inevitable crash's aftermath.
We are left, cold and alone, wondering what fate befell those whose tale we just experienced. But there's no time for past reflection. Much as Virgil led Dante Alighieri through the nine circles of damnation present in the afterlife, so too will Vincent serve as guide through the rigors of life, helping us to better understand the plight of our brothers, and perhaps to help us grow emotionally.
We are left with little time to reflect, however, as the guitars kick into the titular track of this LP, namely Dr. Feelgood. This song serves as warning to us average folk. It tells the tale of an average Joe, one Rat-Tailed Jimmy who begins his career as a lowlife thug, nothing more than a goon until he decides to engage in a personal enterprise based around the selling of cocaine and other inebriants.
Whereas Jimmy begins this tale with nothing more than the lint in his pockets, we are led to understand that he soon finds himself in control of a vast criminal enterprise, the cocky grin on his face belying his hubris. Jimmy feels that he has moved beyond the laws of man, having claimed a seat of power so all-encompassing that the combined force of all mankind could not bring him down.
As we know all too well, though, pride cometh before the fall, and before long there's a rumor going around that Jimmy is "going down". Apparently, this time it's going to stick. Unfortunately for Jimmy, his arrogance got the better of him, and like Tony Montana he found himself lulled into complacency by the intoxicating effects of money and power.
From one decadent vice to another we proceed and no sooner have the memories of Jimmy's downfall begun to fade than Neil returns to tell us a tale of seduction and intrigue in a direct and easy to understand manner.
Whereas many musicians of the day employed uncreative metaphor in order to discuss sexual matters, the Crue feel no need to hide behind obfuscatory language and instead engage the listener in a frank and honest discussion of the hedonistic desires that tear into them.
This song ("Slice of Your Pie" for those following along) seeks to force the listener to understand the quandary that Vince Neil has currently found himself embroiled in. Here he sits, lead singer for Motley Crue, a man who doubtless can have any woman he so desires, yet his current object of affection lies just beyond his grasp. He fears this conquest not because she presents a femininity stronger than he can comprehend, but because he fears both the accusatory glances of his friends and the possible statutory issues that could arise due to this forbidden love.
References are made in the song as to her age (nineteen, we're led to believe), though the general candor of lyrics would indicate that perhaps her age is a bit of a mystery. We are able to ascertain that she is a student, currently studying up and achieving good marks in "hoochie coochie", but again what level of education she is working on is left a mystery.
If she is of age, why the internal torment? Why can't Vince just admit to her his overwhelming feelings of love?
Many in the past have had to deal with these types of longing; Humbert Humbert and Kip Winger being two obvious examples.
Whatever the reason for his continued self restraint, we are never left with a satisfactory answer as to whether or not he ever claims his prize. I would wager not, which leads us into the next decadent tale of Epicurean delight, "Rattlesnake Shake".
The "Shake" picks up where "Pie" left off, a man in need of satisfaction but finding none available. Though Vince clearly lusts after the "kitten with a whip" presented before, no gratification was forthcoming, therefore he has had to turn elsewhere to find resolution.
It would seem that he found his way to a personal stash of some libidinous materials that he has squirreled away in his home, magazines and videotapes presenting myriad pleasures, all available at the touch of a button or the flick of a wrist, as it were.
Puns aside, here we have a man not afraid to take matters into his own hands. He's "got the rattle" as it were and his snake wants, no NEEDS "to spit". Unwilling to allow himself to remain unsated any longer he picks up the phone and dials a random 900 number so that the sultry voice on the other end can see him to the completion of the carnal act he was unable to perform with his previous desire.
With mankind's basest desire now satiated, we prepare ourselves for the next stage of the journey. For as the sexual act is the one that begins life, so too must we plumb the dark depths where the end of life lies. We may wish to avoid thinking of what lies beyond this mortal plane, but our own wishes mean nothing next to the power of the Crue's words and music.
The baritone rumblings of a motorcycle exhaust herald the beginning of our descent into death and eventual rebirth through resuscitative means. This song, "Kickstart My Heart", deals with the tragic heroin overdose experienced by bassist Nikki Sixx and his eventual return to life via two adrenaline shots directly to the heart.
Whereas most songs on this album employ a direct narrative, "Kickstart" focuses more on abstracts, drawing the listener in with the visions apparent to Sixx during his time away from Earth. If nothing else, they seek to bring about an understanding of the rush of feelings and surge of physical power manifested by those fateful shots.
Some may think of a return from death as a time to reflect upon our accomplishments in life, a chance to re-evaluate our purpose and drive on this plane. Others, like Sixx, think of naked skydiving and ladies with extraterrestrial bodies.
Having not been available at the time of writing, I do not wish to infer the deeper meanings of Sixx's metaphor, and as such I will refrain from commenting too heavily on this song. It is apparent that I do not need to, as this is one of Motley Crue's most famous and popular songs, no doubt because of the way the lyrics resonate so strongly with the average person's experience.
Having shared Sixx's death experiences, it is time to move forward with our musical journey, this time moving to the realm of emotions, namely "Without You".
This song's appearance on the album hearkens Vince Neil's triumphant return as lead protagonist in our ongoing tale. Though not explicitly stated, one could conclude that the object of affection to whom he is singing this song is the same "seductive ballerina" mentioned earlier. Only this time instead of secretly pining for her affection, Neil is actively courting her.
"Without You" is a chronicling of one man's struggle to achieve sexual congress. It is an endless procession of trite and groan inducing platitudes meant to incite emotional response. Though Neil could have this girl's physical affections at any moment he desires, he seeks to well up the excitement that doubtless burns in her loins.
Neil's intonations help us to understand the futility of ebullient language, forcing us to realize that sometimes a direct and honest communication of the feelings that lay within can provide greater results than the overly flowery wording that he attempts to use.
As Neil is our guide, his struggles are our struggles and his victories are claimed by us as well. Only by realizing the synergy between singer and listener can one truly begin to appreciate the depth of meaning inherent in this song.
What seems on its face like an endless string of empty platitudes is nothing more than the Machiavellian scheming of a man's mind, insistent that saying something intentionally over the top will swoon the lady towards him, even if those words, taken in context, might make him look the fool. It really is a brilliant tactic that Neil employs and one which we can only assume has worked for him before.
For the time being Neil gives up his conquest and we are whisked away to another soundscape, this time dealing with the homosexual element present in LA at the time, an element not unfamiliar to the Crue.
In "Same Ol' Situation" the band tells us the tale we've heard a million times before, relating to us with a sonic wink what we all know, deep down inside. And what do we know? That ALL women are lesbians. Every last one of them. They may seek to pretend that they are interested in the opposite sex, but all it takes is a Phillipino girl in a cellophane dress to turn them back to their rug munching ways.
As Neil puts it, "you just gotta laugh". Once again futility is the order of the day. The sometimes overwhelmingly nihilistic themes of the album come back to the forefront in this song. Why try? What good will it do? No matter how strong a foundation you attempt to build with someone, you can never fully trust their final intent. After all, "girls will be girls".
At least the band urges you to take these hits in stride. Sure, the love of your life may leave you some day for another female, but the fact of the matter is every last one of them ladies is a dyke, so to heck with it.
And now we're back to the conquest of the previous songs. This time Vince has to deal with unrequited desire. Though he has certainly convinced the "pretty, pretty with the sweet, sweet eyes" from his earlier crooning to be with him, perhaps even to go steady, to date they have yet to consummate this relationship.
The strain of unfulfillment wears heavily on our singer as he tears at the anguish roaring inside him. The only thing left in this world that he wants is the heavenly touch of his betrothed, yet for reasons beyond our comprehension he has yet to know her in the biblical sense.
Anxiety rips at his soul as he dreams about the "Sticky Sweet" treasures she doubtless contains in her trousers, yet for the moment fantasy will have to suffice. That is, until we reach the next song.
And here we are at track 10, the indisputed apex of the album. This is the song that we've been building up to the entire time. We have explored Vince's desires for the love of his life from every conceivable angle, from his first discovery at a young age through his courtship and eventual claiming.
But though they have been together in many ways, they have yet to "be together". And hence, "She Goes Down" represents the final consummation of their boundless affections.
Every song up to this point was laying the foundations for the act that entwines Vince and his lover for eternity. Her unselfish act of physical devotion forever seals their relationship, allowing them to blossom and grow into the nurturing and caring future that doubtless awaits them both.
Friction is introduced into their relationship shortly after the consummation, however, and before long Vince is asking his betrothed to leave. This is not done from spite, as we infer from the lyrics, but from a desire to test his lady fair.
He does not incite her with words of anger, nor does he seek to belittle or demean her in any fashion. He reminisces on the good times they shared together and then implores her to find her own way in life. He is not angry, he has simply lost his interest.
Considering the strong moral center displayed by young Neil, I suspect that his desire to see her go has something to do with the act they have just committed. He may have lusted after her endlessly, but the actual act of consecration was, in his eyes, an abomination to god due to their lack of matrimonial bond.
Not wanting to call into question her character, he simply urges her to find her way out of his life. She is not a bad person, she is just not the person he believed she was. He wanted a godly and motherly woman to care for him and their eventual offspring, when instead he found a woman willing to wallow in her lustful desires. Hence, "Don't Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)".
There is little question that this album details Vince Neil's desire to find a decent woman of pure virtue with which to have a child. Without question his final intent is to procreate and birth into this world an object of pure love and beauty, which leads us into the final song, a plaintive pleading for change.
The Crue understood that the heinous ways of Los Angeles at the time this album was created were too much for any society to bear. In order for there to be peace and tranquility for the future progeny, mankind must take a step back and evaluate what really matters in this world.
They have presented to us a collage of modern life and given us the nudge as listener to go out and effect true change in our world. It's not too late, they tell you, things can still change for the better and the world can be made safer and more caring. Just as Vince searches for his one true love, so too can we go out and find those things that fulfill us, in order to make this Earth a little bit better.
There are not many albums I can think of that inspire the listener to change the world for the better. As bitter and cynical as many in this world have become, it's refreshing to see a young group of stand up gentlemen take a stance for decency and caring.
It warms the soul to know that not everybody on this earth only cares about sex and drugs.
Long live the Crue.
Time for a little honesty. I hate airplanes. Not just air travel. Not just flying itself. I hate airplanes. I hate airports. I hate anything and everything to do with flying.
And not just your every day run of the mill hate, I'm talking full vitriol "Do I get to kill English" Mad Steven kind of hate. The kind of hate that's so rich and creamy you could melt it down and use it to make Rice Krispie treats.
The reason for this hatred is simple: fear.
That's right, I'm not too manly to admit that I'm terrified of airplanes. So scared that I get sick to my stomach just going to the airport to pick up friends. So horrified that I have to take handfuls of drugs just to get myself on a plane. So mind bogglingly phobic that every trip taken on an airplane ends in tears and near vomiting.
It's been this way for years. As a kid I LOVED flying. There was nothing more exciting to me than hopping on an airplane and feeling the ground melt away from me, soaring through the skies with reckless abandon. Oh sure, I would jokingly look to the wing to see if a gremlin was tearing it apart, but all in all I found it all rather enjoyable.
This all changed at the age of 21.
I hopped on a plane around Christmas of 1996 to head back to my old stomping grounds and spend some time with my childhood friends. I couldn't help but notice the sheer wall of all-encompassing panic that overtook me the second we were airborne.
This was no longer an enjoyable jaunt through the friendly skies, this was the tempting of fate, the spitting in the face of the gods all while being hurtled through the air in a metallic Tylenol coffin. I arrived at my destination rather shaken.
Whereas once flying had been a pleasant diversion, now it was almost unendurable. My friends could see the white pallor of panic borne across my face and all took turns trying to figure out just what the hell had spooked me so bad.
If only I had the answers.
I felt an overwhelming dread that entire visit, a horrific foreknowledge of what was to come; namely the return flight. I had become so jittery and inconsolable by that time that my friends propped me up at the airport bar and forced five or six drinks down my throat in the space of twenty minutes. All in the name of getting me to board the flight home.
You would think that this would abate over the years. Unfortunately for me (in more than one way) it hasn't. In fact, I found myself at a job a short time later that involved travel. Lots of travel. TONS of travel. I was soon the office joke, the punchline of a million guffaws due to my undeniable pussitude when it came to aviary travel.
But even in the midst of all this terror, I was able to find some humor in the situation. There are times when my affliction could cause downright funny situations.
Let me give you a couple.
About 8 years ago I took a flight from Amsterdam back home to the USA. I was returning from a three week stint in the Netherlands and was quite eager to get home. I'm not going to lie, YES, I partook in some of the luxuries that Amsterdam had to offer. But let's get something straight, I'm not stupid. There was no way in hell I would ever try and sneak any drugs back FROM AMSTERDAM. Might as well wear a giant flashing neon sign that says, "HEY DEA GUY, ARREST ME!!!"
But even though I would never dare bring the stuff home with me, I certainly had the look of the kind of guy that would imbibe of the local flavor. Dressed in my finest Pink Floyd shirt and having the disheveled look of a man who had taken too many drugs (just to get on the plane), I staggered from the plane down towards Customs and ultimately baggage return.
Luck wasn't with me that day, and as I stumbled out of the Death Tylenol, I noticed that all of my fellow passengers were geriatrics, straight from a lengthy tour of Europe. So after showing my passport and heading towards baggage claim, it was obvious where the attentions would lie.
Here we come down the elevator, towards the room with all of the drug sniffing dogs and armed security officers...
Old person.
Old person.
Old person.
Old person.
High looking guy with a Pink Floyd shirt.
It goes without saying that I suddenly found myself the center of attention. I did my best in my addled state (please note I was wasted off alcohol and Benadryl, NOT illegal narcotics) to be friendly and act coy. "How's it going, officers?"
I stood by the carousel with an officer and dog to my left, to my right and behind me. As each of my pieces of baggage came rolling towards me I had to pull them off the unit and hand them to each dog in order, so they could ascertain that I was not, in fact, attempting to smuggle four kilos of White Widow across the border.
On another occasion I found myself in San Francisco with one of our new sales associates, a young girl who had only been with the company a short while. She had certainly heard the tales of airline adventures to be had with E, but had never had to deal with them face to face. After three days in San Fran her and I made our way to the airport to make the cross country flight home.
"Hey, I'm gonna stop by the bar real quick, ok?" I asked, and she obligingly joined me.
I would say something along the lines of "I watched her face with bemusement as I guzzled back two beers and took a Benadryl," but the truth is better than fiction. In reality it was 4 bears and 3 Benadryl. And a partridge in a pear tree. And I sure as hell couldn't make out her face after all that.
From what I've been told she had to more or less drag me to the plane and have a stewardess assist her in getting me to my seat. As far as I could tell it was a rather dreamy flight. The fun really didn't start until we arrived at home.
This was an overnight flight, so I didn't actually make my way to the parking garage until around 5 in the morning. Mind you, I had drugged myself severely to get on the plane and had literally been asleep until the plane stopped. So once again I had that bedraggled look of unease that could possibly look to the uninformed like I was a bit unhinged, perhaps even dangerous.
The Marilyn Manson shirt didn't help.
I stumble my way through the parking lot, squinting through heavy lids in a lame attempt to find my car. I eventually succeed in doing so, but upon entering my vehicle I realize that I had left my lights on and was now left with no juice.
Off I go, wandering the parking garage looking like some junked up renegade, asking each and every person I see if I can "Get a jump".
In retrospect, I guess I can see why so many people were off-put by my appearance and why perhaps that wasn't the best choice of words.
Those were the days, I suppose. I'd love to pretend like I'll never board one of those monstrous things again, but I'm sure I'll be suckered into it at least one more time. I just know I'm gonna die in a crash. A three minute plunge towards blackest death.
Fuck planes.
Låt Den Rätte Komma In is a Norwegian horror film directed by Tomas Alfredson. Set in the Stockholm suburb of Blackeberg in 1982, a bullied 12-year old boy named Oskar falls in love with a creepy girl name Eli. Things get complicated when he finds out that she's a vampire...
Chances are you've heard the Wilhelm Scream dozens of times in movies and TV and never realized it. The Wilhelm is a sound effect cliche that goes back more than half a century and was originally recorded for the 1951 film Distant Drums. Legend has it that Sheb Wooley, best known for his 1958 novelty hit Purple People Eater, provided the scream during the post production work on Distant Drums (in which he had an uncredited bit part).
Except the cheerleader chick from Heroes...
After witnessing the death of his mentor "5" at the hands of the malevolent construct, the rag doll "9" must confront his fears. He must destroy the creature and steal the talisman of trapped souls it carries as a trophy.
9 is a 2004 short film by Shane Acker that has accumulated quite a collection of awards and accolades. Focus Features, the specialty arm of Universal Pictures, is backing a feature length version with Tim Burton (among others) producing. Voice talent for the feature includes Jennifer Connelly, Elijah Wood, Christopher Plummer, and Martin Landau. It currently has a release date of December 26, 2008 in the United States.
I remember laying on the floor back in 1984, eyes glazed over by the relentless boredom that was being drilled into my head by the two men arguing on stage. Two ancient men, by my reckoning, droning on and on about politics and the economy and a host of other things that I couldn't possibly care less about. Just a bunch of stuffy old dudes blathering their platitudes. Where were the lightsabers? Where was the excitement? Seriously, who could possibly give a shit about this?
Flash forward to modern times and I find myself transfixed by the same displays, transfixed with that same glassy stare, but at last understanding what all the hullaballoo is about. I never thought I'd reach the day where politics was interesting, but hey, I guess we all grow up some time.
In all honesty, I've tried to avoid writing about politics on this site. Political opinion is just that, opinion. What I may think or believe is inherently personal and it's really not my place to stuff my thoughts down the throats of others.
Of course, when we're discussing politics in modern day America, there are only two thoughts of belief. (Apparently) You are either a red-blooded Republican patriot who loves our country, supports our troops and believes that America is the greatest country on Earth. Or you're a liberal, a moist and mucilagenous being that feeds on the energies of pure hatred: hatred of America, hatred of our troops, hatred of babies and peace and love and capitalism.
I used to find these divisions amusing. It was entertaining watching the right-wing element of this country rise to power. It began slowly enough, just a radio show here and there, feeding its listeners on a diet of hate and vitriol until they successfully demonized the other side.
Look, current politics dictates that we're primarily a two party system. (Though in reality they're just two sides of the same coin.) But the way it's portrayed in our media, there is only one side. Because one side stands for all that is good and the other apparently wants to destroy the world, enslave the American people and deny Christ.
Really? Have we been so mislead in this country that overly emotional sentiments like that can actually affect public discourse?
Have you watched ANY "news" in this country the last few years? It's nothing but talking heads arguing the same things ad nauseum with nothing useful ever coming from it. It's all a game of who can yell the loudest. We all know that the louder you are, the more truth you're telling.
It's fine to have differing opinions, that's one of the beauties of having free speech. We all have the right to disagree. But all of this sensationalism is terrible for the American people as a whole and our country and culture in general.
Don't take this as me pointing fingers at the right. The left is every bit as guilty of these tactics, only they don't have as strong a voice in the media, despite what the right would have you believe.
The right owns talk radio. They have columnists in every newspaper. The media in general tends to be centrist or at least slightly right of center. But anything that doesn't fall directly within the parameters set by these talking heads is considered "far left" and "dangerous".
Lines of division have been scored deeply into the flesh of America and our media pushes us all ever closer to a teetering point.
Life is not always about black and white. You cannot sum up the entire breadth and range of political thought with buzzwords like left and right.
Your side is not always right. NOBODY'S side is ALWAYS right.
Obama, to the best of my knowledge, does not actually feast on the blood of infants, nor does he have any plans to open a series of "McBortion" clinics offering coffee, fries and baby killing. I don't think he intends to declare himself Fuhrer and set the Constitution alight, either.
And for that matter, I don't believe that McCain has any intention of surviving his term, nor do I think that Sarah Palin "knocked it out of the park" at the debates or otherwise has the experience in the public arena to actually lead this country.
Sigh. I tried to stay away from personal politics, but I guess my seething hatred of the right at the moment shone through. But guess what? I'm NOT a "liberal"! (Shhh!!!) Just because I don't like McCain doesn't mean I love Obama, just that I don't like McCain.
But you know what? I'll listen to what anybody has to say about McCain, I'll take their information, process it, do some research and (gasp) FORM MY OWN OPINION about things instead of just basing my life on the talking points of the various talking heads that make up our modern media.
Okay, this really was nothing more than a rant, but like I said, I've tried to avoid going political, but with things as charged and heated as they are currently in the USA, it's hard to keep my mouth shut.
P.S. If you want to see just how horrifying American political discourse has become, check out either: Sean Hannity's forums or any of the talkback on Digg.
Truly scary stuff.
Keith Olbermann from MSNBC puts the smack down and tells it like it is.
If there is one thing in this world that I cannot stand, it would be semantics.
We all have to deal with them every day. Some jackass who thinks he's being clever by correcting your "mistake" when in fact you were right all along. It's something that's bugged the hell out of me for as far back as I can remember.
Who finds it necessary to be difficult just for the sake of it? Yeah, we all enjoy a good laugh now and then and sometimes arguing semantics can be fun, but doing it for no real reason does nothing but aggravate me and turn what should be a humdrum everyday conversation into an exercise wherein I'm doing my best not to tear somebody's throat out.
Let me give you an example:
I walked into a McDonald's shortly after the movie Supersize Me was released. Due to the bad publicity rained down upon their business, McDonald's opted to remove "Super Sizing" from their menu, instead substituting it with "Large Size".
No harm, no foul, right? I mean, they're just looking out for their best interests while still giving the porcine masses what they really want. (Greasy food and LOTS OF IT.)
In I walk, completely oblivious to this new direction the company is taking.
"I'd like a number four with no pickles or onions, super sized with a Coke," I say in my best monotone, as this is the exact same thing I've ordered from this restaurant for the last decade.
"Oh, we don't have super size anymore," the clerk says, "just large size."
Ahh...semantics.
Had I been the bloke behind the counter, I would have simply rung up the order as a large size and sent the customer on his merry way. Oh sure, I may have taken the time to point out our new "branding", but I would see no reason to interject any needless arguments into the conversation.
Dopey McAcneface apparently saw things differently than I did.
"You don't have super size anymore?"
"Right."
"But you do have a larger size available still?"
"Right."
"Wouldn't that basically mean that the larger size IS the super size?"
"Yeah."
I defy you to look at that exchange and side with the person behind the counter. Seriously, was it worth the effort to block the arrival of my order by 30 seconds? Nowadays whenever I go to a fast food restaurant I order "Giganto-Size, Enormo-Size or even Uber-Size". You'd be amazed how many times I end up with regular size.
The most egregious example of this comes from further back in time. Somewhere in the early to mid 1990's I called up Domino's to order a pizza for my girlfriend and I. Times were lean and we didn't have a whole lot of cash, so I opted for a more meager portion.
"I'd like to order a small pepperoni pizza, please."
"We don't have small pizzas."
"You don't?"
"No sir, we have medium, large and extra large."
I'd love to say that I took the high road, rolled my eyes and opted for the medium. Instead I launched into a scathing tirade about the inanity of the previous statement.
A) I said SMALL, which would obviously indicate the smallest pizza you sell.
B) How in the hell is the smallest pizza a medium? Wouldn't medium indicate that there was some sort of upper and lower measurement, ie the midpoint between the small and the large?
C) Did you REALLY just tell me that you didn't have a small pizza and then list off three sizes, from smallest to largest?
Ugh.
No doubt I enjoyed a pizza covered with all sorts of saliva and floor sweepings, but at least I made a point. I just can't stand people being needlessly nitpicky.
"Arbitrage say he can't HANG!"
Angered, Speechless, Dumbfounded, Astonished, Pure Disbelief.
So a few days ago, you say no to giving someone a $700 billion line of credit.
Today you say ok, because of the following(which is only some of the things).
"Some of the goodies intended to attract the votes of individual members of Congress include $192 million for the rum producers of Puerto Rico and Virgin Islands, $128 million for car racing tracks, $33 million for corporations operating in American Samoa, and $10 million for small film and television productions. "
UNREAL.
Not too much more to say on the subject anymore.
If the above doesn't tell you who we are and what we've become then I don't know what else to say.
Cash Scam 101...
Buy the rumor sell the fucking news. Below is the action from today during the passage of the bailout.
Open up in a new window.
See the blue arrow line, that was the point at which the vote count was still coming in, but there was enough Yeas to pass the bill. What happens next? 300 point drop ...bottom fell out.
Cash Scam 101 folks... buy the rumor sell the news.
"But wait, wasn't the bill suppose to be good for the economy?? ...I mean stock market was rising all day, so it passed, well where is the rally???"
"Well ummm yeah Mr. Sucker ..*cough* *cough* I mean Mr. Investor, the earlier prices reflect the passage of the bill, but we all know bill or no bill we're still up shit's creek without a paddle."
Cash Scam 101--
As a side note we just gave 700 Billion line of credit to Fed\Treas.. WOW.
**EDIT**
HAHAHAHA LMFAO
Just read the headline "DOW UP AFTER HOUSE OK's RESCUE"
Yeah ok, we just gave up 250+ points after it was passed.
HAHAHA.. no wonder why they steal 700 Billion from us.....
Yoshida Kyōdai are Japanese musicians who are known internationally as the Yoshida Brothers and have been recording and performing since 1999. Ryōichirō Yoshida and Ken'ichi Yoshida are the ones rocking out on the shamisen, a traditional Japanese instrument dating back to the 16th century. You've probably heard their music in the background of Nintendo Wii commercials (a track called 'Kodo' from their 'Yoshida Brothers II' album).
The track 'Rising' is from their 2008 CD "Best of Yoshida Brothers".
Yep this dance is not 10 cents, but free. Why? Cause it's the last dance for a long while, the party is over and we must now walk out and face the sunlight; knowing we stayed way too late, spent too much money, and disillusioned our selves to the best of our ability.
My sister emails me and says, let's cash out and get the hell out of here. Is she in panic mode or is she sane?
You won't hear much talk of the closed congress meetings earlier this year or even know that it existed. Should have been newsworthy considering it was the 4th time in 176 years it has happened. What was the big deal that had to be so secret that everyone had to take an oath of silence on? E told me the other day that they were bringing in troops in readiness for social unrest.
Well apparently what was discussed behind the close doors was this.
The IMMINENT collapse of the financial system by end of 2008
The IMMINENT collapse of the government finances by end 2009
Revolt by the people which causes civil war.
Finally the North American Union.
Perfect storm don't you think? I mean financial issues the likes most of us have never seen, the possibility of a Black President, and that 1 small problem of WE DON'T HAVE FUCKING CIVIL LIBERTIES ANYMORE. We have signed away our liberties to acquire "protection" from terrorists. Martial law can be executed at will now and nothing can save you. Revolt if you want, everything that protected us is now gone.
So that's why I saw those pictures of portable jail cells not too long ago. They look like leggo, they just snap in place.
So maybe you don't think martial law is possible, maybe just internet phobia.
Let's forget about the possibility of civil war, martial law, and the whole 9.
Ok, I'll buy that argument, but Big Sis is still right about packing up.
Let's deal in econ .00101.
I have been asked many times my thoughts on the situation and for me it's hard to explain unless I know the readers level of knowledge.
The following article eloquently explains better than I could:
http://www.financialsense.com/stormwatch/geo/pastanalysis/2008/0926.html
False Values, False Economy,and the Devil to Pay
by J. R. Nyquist
Weekly Column Published: 09.26.2008
Our wretched economy of false valuations cannot continue much longer. It is the domestic counterpart of President Bush’s past friendship with Vladimir Putin. It is the fantasy world of an everlasting bull market and “successful” government bailouts. The political leadership in America has demonstrated that it doesn’t understand economics. They cannot solve the present crisis unless they go back to school and consult the wisdom they have so long neglected. They have built their post- Cold War world on a false boom, on false “partnerships” with enemies. They have pe rmitted a policy of credit expansion without end.
“Credit expansion,” wrote the Austrian economist Ludwig von Mises, “is the governments’ foremost tool in their struggle against the market economy. In their hands it is the magic wand designed to conjure away the scarcity of capital goods … and to make everybody prosperous.” But everyone cannot be prosperous. The boom created by credit expansion cannot last. This is what the leaders of the United States have missed. “The inescapable consequences of credit expansion,” wrote Mises, “are shown by the theory of the trade cycle. Even those economists who still refuse to acknowledge the correctness of the … credit theory of the cyclical fluctuations of business have never dared to question the conclusiveness and irrefutability of what this theory asserts with regard to the necessary effects of credit expansion.”
And what are these effects?
According to Ludwig von Mises, an upswing occasioned by credit expansion can only be maintained by further credit expansion; and, in the long run, “it turns into depression when the further progress of credit expansion stops.” This outcome is absolutely certain and today’s financial crisis underscores the point. The economic boom of recent years has been propelled forward by an unprecedented credit expansion. At each turn, when the market was threatened with contraction, further credit expansion was urged.
The magic wand of credit expansion is like heroin addiction. The more you take, the more you want. The day inevitably comes when you cannot increase the dosage because you run short of supply. And so it is with credit expansion. The markets are accustomed to easy money. They now require easier and easier money. They are addicted. Eventually, however, they must suffer the symptoms of withdrawal.
Did we think this expansion could continue forever without consequence? Evidently we did not consider where we would end up. And now, at last, the United States Government believes it can fill the hunger for credit through a coordinated push – the last gasp of our insatiable credit addicts. President Bush offers a plan. Behind closed doors he reportedly said, “This sucker could go down.” Once again, the president’s grammar is in error. The sucker in question will go down.
Every dollar poured into the proposed rescue operation will be lost. Buying toxic debt is not a solution. The proposed mechanism for rescuing the economy represents a new falsification of values – and a new twisting of the market. The dollar cannot possibly survive this new initiative. A $700 billion bailout is only the beginning. It is merely a foretaste. What we see in Washington is an exercise in self deception. It is the self deception of a country that does not see danger, of a country that ignores the wisdom of ancestors and the ABCs of economics.
They want a booming economy. What they’ve failed to consider is the false nature of the boom thereby engendered. False values, false ideas and promises of false prosperity pepper the program of today’s politicians. They have no business at the helm of a great country. Their leadership consists in pitiful ignorance, and the republic may be in its last days. There has been a shocking willingness to destroy the country’s currency. “If the government does not care how far foreign exchange rates may rise, it can for some time continue to cling to credit expansion,” Mises explained. “But one day the crack-up boom will annihilate its monetary system.”
The proposed plan to save the markets will save nothing. The proposed solution is no solution. Improper investments have been made and massive losses must result. We have to take our medicine before we can get better. Debasing our already debased currency makes things worse. We have avoided economic pain by a continuous expansion of credit. The artificial boom must come to an end. False values must pass away so that real values can be brought to the fore.
Few realize how destructive the boom has been; for the real damage is done by the regime of false values and our collective investment in those values. “The boom is called good business,” noted Mises, “prosperity, and upswing. Its unavoidable aftermath, the readjustment of conditions to the real data of the market, is called crisis, slump, bad business, depression.” The latter, however, is the period of healing and correction.
The real magic of economics is learning to accept correction. This is what we refuse to do. The country’s financial managers set a terrible example. Traditionally, the captain goes down with his ship. As the Titanic sinks today our financiers don’t want to be rescued in a lifeboat. They want to be rescued in a yacht. They don’t want to accept that wars and depressions are necessary because human nature craves fantasy. The bubble of false peace and false prosperity necessarily bursts. In the end, reality must be confronted.
“People rebel against the insight that the disturbing element is to be seen in the malinvestment and overconsumption of the boom period,” wrote Mises. The curious fact is, noted the Austrian: “If we apply this yardstick to the various phases of the cyclical fluctuations of business, we must call the boom retrogression and the depression progress. The boom squanders through malinvestment scarce factors of production and reduces the stock available through overconsumption; its alleged blessings are paid for by impoverishment. The depression, on the other hand, is the way back to a state of affairs in which all factors of production are employed for the best possible satisfaction of the most urgent needs of the consumers.”
If the state is to do anything constructive during the “progressive” period of depression, it is to maintain the country’s nuclear deterrent and preserve national unity. There is no doubt that America will shortly be forced to call its troops home and close its overseas bases. The financial situation is going to dictate international withdrawal. It is going to dictate a more modest government. But the politicians in Washington cling to the notion that the boom can continue, that their false approach to the international situation is viable. The United States cannot save the world. It will be fortunate to save itself. President Bush’s proposed bailout is not simply a socialist measure. It is an attempt to avoid a return to correct valuations. It is an ignorant attempt, in effect, to extend the damage that has already been done.
Our politicians want to give us easy money, a furtherance of the shopping mall regime. They believe this will prevent millions from losing their jobs. They believe that their proposed measures will save ailing banks. Prosperity would then continue. “This reasoning seems plausible,” wrote Mises. “Nonetheless it is utterly wrong.” The boom has made prices and wages too high. Demand has lost all sense of supply. The consumer is accustomed to getting whatever he wants, even though he cannot afford it. In order to put matters right, wages must fall, consumption must be restricted, wasteful practices must come to an end.
“There is no use in interfering by means of a new credit expansion,” wrote Mises. “This would at best only interrupt, disturb, and prolong the curative process of the depression, if not bring about a new boom with all its inevitable consequences.” When Bill O’Reilly says that the disaster is too great, that despite his support for the free market he sees no alternative to the government bailout plan, he is denying the healing power of a depression. He is denying the fundamental lesson of economics. The damage to the economic system has already occurred during the period of false prosperity.
As strange as it seems, financial crash and depression are needful. We must pass through a time of troubles. There is no other way to correct the regime of false values. The problem, of course, has become political. The regime is a political system in which the economically ignorant call the tune. The magnitude of the disaster is thereby amplified. The political actors now put the political system at risk. Because there are national security implications, they now put our very lives at risk.
Copyright © 2008 Jeffrey R. Nyquist
You can't "FIX" this, it is broken. To employ a bailout only keeps the bar open and the band playing another few hours.
Eventually you have to go home.
WATCH THIS VIDEO. PLEASE WATCH THIS VIDEO
If you intend to vote for Senator John McCain for President of the United States of America on November 4, 2008, I would like introduce you to some of the people that will no doubt also be supporting McCain on that day.
"We as a nation have to ask ourselves what the hell is going on."
"Man, this truck driver is insane!"
"And aren't you glad?"
"The whole of creation testifies..."
"John, are you ok?"
In Pimpin Ain't Dead I talked briefly about how all the FED has us all by the balls. Left, Right, Up, Down, Black, White, it doesn't matter. You can fight amongst yourselves all you want pointing and blaming but in the end the FED has us all.
Couple weeks later lo and behold, we're looking at a massive $700 BILLION bailout; which in it's drafted copy gives the FED unlimited authority to not be questioned by the government or COURT OF LAW about it's actions with the money, but also contains a section in which the FED can take ANY bank into it's control.
OK. If I'm across the poker table from the FED\CONGRESS etc.. I'm pushing all in because I'm calling bullshit. What I was taught and what I thought WE believed in was free markets period. PERIOD at any cost. Could things get MIGHTY UGLY if we don't do the bailout, of course, more so than any of us could imagine or prepare for, but guess what, FUCK IT.
Everything we've ever preached, flaunted, and prided ourselves in goes out the window with the bailout. To quote Dr. Ron Paul:
"Times like these have a way of telling us what kind of a people we are, and what kind of country we shall be."
Thus it's quite obvious what we will be-
The United States of Fake Ass Capitalists
This is what religion can do when it is followed to the letter. Scary shit.
By DONNA ABU-NASR, Associated Press Writer
RIYADH, Saudi Arabia - Arabs across the ideological spectrum, from secular-minded liberals to Muslim hard-liners, are denouncing a top Saudi cleric's edict that it was permissible to kill the owners of satellite TV stations that show "immoral" content.
Many expressed worry the recent comments by Sheik Saleh al-Lihedan — chief of the kingdom's highest tribunal, the Supreme Judiciary Council — would fuel terrorism, encouraging attacks on station employees and owners.
The edict, or fatwa, has also focused the spotlight on Saudi Arabia's legal system because of al-Lihedan's senior position in the judiciary. The system is run by Islamic cleric-judges, many of them hard-liners, and has increasingly been criticized by some Saudis because of the wide discretion judges have in punishing criminals and the perception that many judges are out of touch with the realities of the world.
Even conservative clerics who agree that Arab satellite networks show too many "indecent" programs said al-Lihedan had gone too far.
"Our religion prevents Muslims from watching films that provide seduction, obscenity and vulgarity," said Sheik Hazim Awad, an Iraqi cleric, who, like al-Lihedan, is Sunni Muslim.
But "the real Muslim can just cancel (subscriptions to) these channels," he said.
Many conservatives frown on the Arab world's numerous satellite networks for airing music videos — often with scantily clad women singers — or Western movies and TV shows like "Sex and the City," from which nude scenes are sometimes but not always cut.
Obscenity isn't the only thing that disturbs some. On Tuesday, another Saudi cleric, Sheik Mohammed Munajjid, said the cartoon character Mickey Mouse should be killed. Munajjid said in an interview with a religious Web site that under Islamic law, rats and mice are considered "repulsive" and as "soldiers of Satan."
"For children they've become something great and beloved. Like this Mickey Mouse, who is seen as a great figure, even though under Islamic law, Mickey Mouse should be killed," said Munajjid, who is a well-known cleric but does not hold a government position.
The controversy over al-Lihedan's fatwa began a week ago, when the cleric was answering questions from callers to the daily "Light in the Path" religious program on Saudi state radio. One caller asked about Islam's view of the owners of satellite TV channels that show "bad programs" during the holy month of Ramadan, which began more than two weeks ago.
"I want to advise the owners of these channels, who broadcast calls for such indecency and impudence ... and I warn them of the consequences," al-Lihedan said in the program. "Those calling for corrupt beliefs, certainly it's permissible to kill them."
The remarks were especially surprising because many of the most popular Arab satellite networks are owned by Saudi princes and well-connected Saudi and Gulf businessmen.
On Sunday, reportedly under pressure from senior government figures, al-Lihedan appeared on Saudi state TV to explain his comments, apparently to prevent vigilante killings. He said owners should first be brought to trial and then sentenced to death if other penalties don't deter them.
He said his "advice" was aimed at owners who broadcast witchcraft, indecent programs, shows mocking Islamic scholars or religious police and comedies inappropriate for Ramadan.
The edict chilled managers of satellite networks. Several channels based in Dubai declined comment. One network representative said the staff was taking the fatwa very seriously, but he did not want his name or channel revealed. "Why select yourself as a target by commenting on it?" he said.
Saudi Arabia's judiciary is a bastion of hard-line clerics implementing Islamic law under the strict Wahhabi interpretation. Judges are appointed by the king on the recommendation of the Supreme Judicial Council and have complete discretion to set sentences, except in cases where Islamic law outlines a punishment, such as capital crimes.
King Abdullah has said reforming the legal system is one of his priorities, but so far few changes have been announced — a sign of wariness in confronting the powerful clerics.
One Saudi cleric challenged al-Lihedan, telling the Saudi Al-Jazirah newspaper that the new edict would "lend support to terrorism."
Militants will "recruit our youths to take lives and blow up stations and the properties of the owners of the stations, all based on (al-Lihedan's) grave response," said Sheik Abdul-Mohsen al-Obaikan, an adviser at the Justice Ministry and a member of the appointed Consultative Council, which acts like a parliament.
In Jordan, hard-line cleric Ibrahim Zeid Kailani said although the networks are spreading "decay" among the youth, it's the responsibility of the government and not individuals to deal with the issue.
"Such edicts, which call for killing people, instigate sedition," said Kailani, who heads the Islamic Action Front's Scholars Committee, a hawkish group. "They could transform the countries into internal battlefields."
Around the Arab world, many said el-Lihedan was out of line.
"He shouldn't give such a judgment because he's not God," said Noora Baker, a 27-year-old folkloric dancer from the Palestinian city of Ramallah. "I am against religion interfering with the matters of society."
To continue E's love for the top ten list, I must get this one out there. I constantly see very average looking girls referred to as "Hot" simply because they are famous. These women would not even be noticed if you passed them on the street, but because you saw them on TV, they magically become hot.
#10: Sarah "Hot for a Comic" Silverman
Sarah Silverman is very funny, but very hot she is not. She is a rarity in the comedy world by being female, but more so by being a female comic that doesnt make your penis invert. For this reason, she often gets a free "Hot" pass.
#9: Hillary Duff
Not much to say about this one. Just because someone is a "teen starlet" doesn't mean that they become hot the day they become "legal".
#8: Nicole Richie
Nicole Richie is famous by proxy. She is either raised by, or hangs out with famous people. She has no real talent or drive, and only came in to the spotlight after befriending Paris hilton (Who is only famous for being a rich slut).
#7: Ashley Simpson
We only know her name because her older sister is a talented singer, who actually IS attractive. She is also one of those "Famous Siblings" who tries to say that she did it on her own - without her sister's help. And as we have seen from her live performances, she is talentless.
#6: Kirsten Dunst
Ok, so the formula is; if she is a cute child actress she MUST turn out to be a hot adult, right? Wrong.
#5: Jessica Biel
I know a lot of you will disagree with me on this one, but I'm right. You know why? 2 words: Man Face
Nice body, but c'mon guys - Man face.
#4: Sarah Jessica Parker
Horse face.
#3: Fergie
Ok, now we are getting in to the Holy trinity of "Not Hot". This woman has a face of a botched transvestite plastic surgery. I am not at all interested in her "lady lumps" (since they probably have to be shaved daily).
#2: Tori Spelling
This is nepotism at it's finest! This talentless, alien-like brat would never have seen the light of day had she not been Aaron Spelling's daughter. But it's ok, at least Aaron was smart enough to cut her from the will!
#1: Jennifer Garner 
Come on.. She looks like a librarian, but because she got cast in a "cool, sexy role", you are tricked in to thinking that she is hot? I don't want to say too much here though, because with her satellite ears, she can hear me typing this.
Heya folks. Back with another set of words that did not come from my mind. This time the political statement comes from a user on Digg.com named "darlenegray". I thought this was some amazingly well thought out and organized language that helps put a lot of the animosity of the current candidates into perspective.
Sorry I've been pegging you all with political stuff of late, but damnit, this election REALLY MATTERS.
Posted By: darlenegray (September 17, 2008 at 12:48 AM)
For those who still can't grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are constantly looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.
White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because 'every family has challenges,' even as black and Latino families with similar 'challenges' are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.
White privilege is when you can call yourself a '***' redneck,' like Bristol Palin's boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll 'kick their ***' ass,' and talk about how you like to 'shoot ***' for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.
White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.
White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don't all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you're 'untested.'
White privilege is being able to say that you support the words 'under God' in the pledge of allegiance because 'if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it's good enough for me,' and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the 'under God' part wasn't added until the 1950s--while believing that reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), is a dangerous and silly idea only supported by mushy liberals.
White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you. White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto was 'Alaska first,' and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she's being disrespectful.
White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor--and people think you're being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college--you're somehow being mean, or even sexist.
White privilege is being able to convince white women who don't even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a 'second look.'
White privilege is being able to fire people who didn't support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.
White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God's punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you're just a good church-going Christian, but if you're black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you're an extremist who probably hates America.
White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a 'trick question,' while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O'Reilly means you're dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.
White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism is, as Sarah Palin has referred to it, a 'light' burden.
And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren't sure about that whole 'change' thing. Ya know, it's just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain.
White privilege is, in short, the problem.
10. Dr. Seuss – Theodore Seuss Geisel, the author of dozens of children's books including Green Eggs and Ham and The Cat in the Hat, pronounced his middle name (his mother's maiden name) and pseudonym to rhyme with "voice", as in “Dok-tor Soy-ss”.
9. Zooey Deschanel – American actress, musician, and singer, you’ve probably seen her in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Bridge to Terabithia, Showtime’s Weeds, or the Sci-Fi Channel’s Tin Man. Although you can certainly be forgiven for thinking otherwise, her name is pronounced “Zoh-E” (not “Zoo-E”).
8. Berkeley Breathed – Creator of the long running comic strip Bloom County, B.B won a Pulitzer Prize for Editorial Cartooning in 1987. Although Bloom County officially ended in 1989, the characters of Opus the Penguin and Bill the Cat have continued to live on in his other works. “Burk-lee Breh-thed” is his name, but his friends just call him “Burk”.
7. Randy Bachman – Lead guitarist for the classic rock bands The Guess Who and Bachman-Turner Overdrive, he finally gave up trying to correct the thousands of American DJ’s mispronouncing his name when BTO’s Let It Ride and Taking Care of Business were rocking the charts. Randy and brother Robbie’s last name is pronounced “Back-man” and not “Bock-man”. Seriously.
6. Maggie/Jake Gyllenhaal – Brother Jake was in the movie Brokeback Mountain playing pitcher/catcher with this guy Heath who would later play a grease-painted psychopath in a movie destined to become one of the highest grossing films of all time, during which he blows up Jake’s sister Maggie. Got all that? The last name of these Hollywood actor siblings is Swedish for “golden hall” and is properly pronounced “Jill-En-Hall” (not "Gill-En-Hall").
5. Neil Peart – Drummer and lyricist for Rush since 1974 (joining the band immediately after their self-titled debut album), Neil has been an inspiration for aspiring drummers for more than three decades. Readers of Modern Drummer magazine voted him “Best Rock Drummer” for seven straight years (1980-1986). Neil’s last name is pronounced "Peer-t" (not "Pair-t" or "Per-t").
4. Shia LaBeouf – He’s the kid from the Transformers movie and the son of Indy and Marion in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. He’s currently hard at work on Transformers II, and his name is pronounced “Shy-uh Luh-Buff”.
3. Björk – Björk Guðmundsdóttir was the lead singer of The Sugarcubes in the late 1980’s before going solo in the early 1990’s. Her most successful singles include Human Behaviour, Army of Me, and Violently Happy. Björk is actually a common name in her native Iceland where it is pronounced “B-yirk” (not “b-york”).
2. Matt Groening – Creator of both The Simpsons and Futurama, Matt “Gray-ning” (not “groaning” or “grow-ning”) continues to helm both franchises. The Simpsons will be celebrating their 20th season this year – the longest running American sitcom and the longest running American animated series. Futurama’s third direct-to-DVD movie is set to be released in November.
1. Ralph Fiennes – The award-winning actor from movies such as Schindler’s List, The English Patient, Red Dragon, and the Harry Potter films (as none other than Lord Voldemort, beginning with Goblet of Fire), poor Ray has probably been called “R-owl-f Fin-ess” more times than he can count. If you want to get that autograph, though, you’d better call him “Ray-f Fines” (to rhyme with "Waif Wines").
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