Sunday · Mar. 29

Public Leaking

Q: What is the title of your presentation to the G20?

A:

Will You Look At Me When I'm Talking To You Listen I Know Things Are A Little Shaky Right Now But Are You Seriously Texting Right In The Middle Of My Speech Holy Shit Argentina I Swear To God I'll Smack That Mouth Of Yours If You Don't Put That Cell Thing Away Until I'm Done Talking To You France Hold Me Down So I Don't Go To Jail For What Argentina Is Making Me Do To It France France France C'mere France France Don't You Make That Face At Me France One Word France Nazis Yes Again Yes Still Yes We Know It's 2009 It Was Weak France Real Weak Well Stop Making Me Bring It Up And Help Me When I Ask Look You Made Me Make Germany Cry No I Am Not Out Of Control You're Out Of Control What What What What'd You Say Russia Oh Fuck Off Russia We're Still So Far Ahead Of You Listen Russia It'll Take The Light From Fucked 200,000,000 Years Just To Reach The Least Fucked Of You And You'll Miss It Because You'll Still Be On Line For One Roll Of Toilet Paper Yeah Maybe We Did Break The Word's Banks But At Least We Know Where Our Nukes Are Okay Russia Oh Don't Give Me That Sidelong Glance Japan It Wasn't A Threat You Know What Japan Fuck You Japan Go Make Us A Sandwich Yes Now Yes In Front Of Everyone Look Stop Crying Japan You're Worse Than Canada Yeah We Know What You've Been Saying Canada And Frankly We've Been Thinking We Need A Little Space Because Frankly It's Been A Long Time Together And We've Had It With All The Attitude You Know What Canada You Make Syrup And Lesbians Canada Okay You're Basically Vermont And We've Already Got One Of Those And We're Pretty Close To Kicking It To The Curb And Frankly We're A Little Over Your Bullshit Don't Think We're Not Noticing How Hot Mexico Is Yeah That's Right What's Up Baby What's That Well Yeah We Had A Few Drinks On The Way Down We Had To Take The Edge Off A Little But We're Cool We Can Still Drive What The Keys You Want The Keys Fuck off China You Can't Have Our Keys Oh You You're Saying You Have Our Keys Well Okay Just Drop Us Off China China China Hey China Lookit Me China Goddamn you Don't You Walk Off Ch-

Wednesday · Nov. 05

Off the bat

I like that his first deal as our leader was to shitcan the celebratory fireworks because the nation is such a mess. That's hardcore nerdy. That's the driving instructor who checks you off points for playing with the radio during your test. I like that in a president, it's the exact polar opposite of jumping in front of a "mission accomplished" banner in a cock-enhancing flight suit.

No.44

When Obama speaks, I buy it. Which is to say, I genuinely believe that he believes what he's saying, that his intentions are exactly as he states them, and that he has at least the tenacity to drive his will through the political machine. Never felt that way about any politician before, ever, not even slightly. If he fails, if Barack Obama is a bad president, so be it; at least he made me believe that American people actually still have a collective will, and a functioning enough political system to enact that will. I flat out didn't believe that 12 hours ago, did you?

I have nothing snarky or shitty to say at this moment.

Wait, yes I do: shut the fuck up, Oprah. I'm pretty sure he'd have won without the 12 obese hausfraus you still manage to boss around. 20 minute rambling self-congratulatory interview about how Chicago is her town and she knew they'd do the right thing for her because some news twit waved a microphone at her head. Last time I saw something that large black and dense it was killing Maximilian Schell in a Disney movie.

But yeah, Obama. It's Morning In America. For real this time.

Sunday · Jun. 17

Dawn of the bread

Does bread know that it is bread? Or does it long to be wheat? At which point does it become toast? Is the moisture which escapes when you toast it the soul of the bread leaving dead toast behind?

Is the smell of toast in the kitchen a haunting by the long since bread?

Saturday · Mar. 31

A desperate plea from the Bob's Big Boy statues of the greater Las Vegas area to (still) attorney general Alberto Gonzales:

Mr. Gonzales, you're not a popular man. You're oddly boyish looking and not quite human-sized. The general public has tired of you. We have a lot in common you and we, and so, we hope you'll set aside a moment to hear us out.

People don't think about us Bob's Big Boy statues much anymore, and that's fine. We understand that. We're corporate icons of a bygone era. All we wanted was to fade away gracefully-- maybe enjoy the occasional pop cultural nod from the Simpsons or David Lynch. We'll happily endure the bleaching of the brutal dessert sun, the cracking and peeling of our aging fiberglass bodies, and the random sad bunch of drunken frat boys with camera phones who all think they're the first to pretend that we're raping them from behind. We know who we are. We were built as 8 feet tall chubby young boys with our crotches thrusting enthusiastically forward like something censored out of the first seven editions of a William S. Burroughs novel. We can take it. We're Big Boys.

But now, something very dark looms on the horizon. Very, very dark. We ask that you take a moment to consider just how dark, Mr. Gonzales: a giant robot Michael Jackson, mere feet away from chubby young boy statues which are both frozen in a crotch-forward position, and are completely incapable of running the bloody doo-dah fuck away from said robot.

We can't make stuff like this up. We're living a punchline to a joke even Jay Leno would turn down, and it's terrifying.

Mr. Gonzales, you're the last person we need to inform of the political value of making a show of protecting children from predators, and frankly, absolutely nothing we can think of is more showy than stopping a giant robot Michael Jackson from molesting giant fiberglass children out in the dusty den of sin that is Las Vegas. It would make your predecessor's need to spend nearly nine grand covering up the tits on the DOJ statues drop right off the cultural map. Your niche in the judicial culture would be assured.

We recognize that you're a busy man these days, we get that. As I shout this desperate plea to a pasty weblogger wasted on a whole Smurf village of mushrooms yelling at nothing while trying to write this all down on a slice of American cheese with a sharpie marker in an abandoned Big Boy's parking lot in the hot Nevada sun, men with any smidge of political clout who were once willing to make mindless showings of protecting kids from The Evils of Whatever are all busy at the moment fussing about with the war and handing over the internet to the highest bidder and so on, leaving no one but yourself to come to our aid. We choose to see this as providence. Helping us would be helping yourself to a more noble legacy than you face now. Think it over, please, Mr. Gonzales, and quickly; we could be each other's only hope.

Thursday · Mar. 15

Mouthful of caulk

Marshmallow Fluff. If that German bestiality porn with the horses was a toaster, Marshmallow Fluff looks like what you'd have to shake out of the bottom of it every few weeks once you figured out why the kitchen smells like a sneaker. How is this stuff popular? For kids? "Here Johnny, have this sandwich made of peanut butter and something somewhere between a pap smear and the innards of the facehugger from Alien."

Wednesday · Feb. 28

Planes

Say there. I want fat kids next to me on the plane.
Fat, fat, little children.
Planes are chilly, fat kids are warm. Also, they tend to pass right out without saying much. Best of all, I'll look to any number of stewardess like a guy who doesn't mind a bunch of fat stranger children around him. This is good. Stewardess like that. They're drifters, they just want a guy who can plant a few roots. Got fat kids you want to get somewhere you're not? My e-mail's on the bottom of the page. I will not actually read the e-mail as I'm not going anywhere, but knowing you and your fat children are out there is nice. I know the post directly after this one is entitled "Think of the children in leather", but not to worry, that's just harmless irony.

The stewardessy line of thinking got me to wondering just how much of modern society is structured around impressing stewardess. Turns out it's a lot. There's the obvious stuff -- barf bags, noise hair clippers, those fake balls they sew into your scrotum if you lose a testicle through mishap or horseplay-- all stuff guys would just let go if there were no cute chicks in starchy outfits to impress, but upon closer inspection there's a deeper level which reveals itself. The planes themselves, for example. Boats are a fine way to get somewhere, and fast enough for most places given the general warmth and manners of most foreigners, but the drawn-out nature of a boat trip doesn't really lend itself to fast cheap sex with a waitress in a small toilet. Same for trains. No, planes, like gin, muscle relaxants, and those little stabby things people use to hold cobs of corn clearly evolved out of the basic need to have sex with a waitress and disappear quickly. If the goal were travel, as is the conceit of the airline industry, planes would get to places on a time table based the Earth's rotation around the sun, rather than Jupiter's, as is the case now.

Cell phones can also be traced using the stewardess theory of design. Man invented the cell phone... we know this because cell phones where perfectly good ten years ago and we're still designing them. How far have baby bottles come in the centuries since they were first developed? In the late 1950s they became plastic because it was safer. Baby bottles quit being designed once they could reliably squirt milk and not shatter the bones in your foot if you picked up a wet one. Clearly the work of women. Cell phones, by comparison, have been so designed that by now they're pretty much useless. Try and use a ten year old cell phone with one hand. Now try a modern one -- see? Too small. You actually need two hands to work it open. Small and loaded with flashy stuff which looks cool but never works. What is a modern cell phone for? To sit on that tiny flip out tray and get a stewardess to bend down and check out the 100 X 80 pixels of that puppy wearing the funny hat you have on there from Cute Overload. She will have to get very close to make out anything, possibly within four inches of your crotch.

Anyway, cell phones can't fight off the AC chill, which is why I opt for fat children. No part of the animal should be wasted. Even asleep they pump out enough BTUs so that you won't have to actually touch anything, which is good because they're always sticky.

I'll explain the stabby corn holders and muscle relaxants thing when you're older.

Tuesday · Dec. 12

Think of the children... in leather

This gives me an idea: it'd be interesting if someone proposed intentionally moribund legislation so wrong-headed, image-driven, and just flat out fucking goofy that tracking who bought into it revealed just how unfit for their jobs those legislators were-- sort of like the mole hunt they did in that Mission Impossible movie, `cept in reverse. An un-intelligence mole hunt. The equivalent of pretending you put booze in the punch to see who starts to act like they're drunk. Not that I think for a second this is what is going on here with Senator McCain, I've no doubt he's so empty a douche nozzle that trying to get everyone on the internet to play Little Brother strikes him as a reasonable way to come off as being hard on child porn (heh - that was fun to type), but I wonder if there was ever a point in the Senate's history when its members would care enough to try such a thing, to try to flush out the impressively dim among themselves with a fake bill.

" What's this? You want to make white women ...wear antlers in public? Antler antlers?"
" Yeah, it's to keep the Negroes off of them."
" Huh."
" Not bad, right? We got like 90 signatures so far. Lot of momentum on the Moose Or The Noose Act these days. Trent Lott's baby before his troubles, he drafted it after the Make Them Wear Bells proposal went tits up. Sign it for Trent, willya?"

Maybe that's what happened to the Whig Party. Never hear from them anymore. We used to have more than one and a half political parities in the US. We used to have The Whig Party. One Tuesday in the 1850s there were a whole bunch of Whigs clogging up the Senate, then by Thursday it was just John Tyler and nine nervous looking Democrats hugging themselves and wondering why suddenly all the extra legroom. Bet someone dope-billed the Whig Party. Bet the Whigs suddenly tried to make nose whistles in church punishable by tar, or make scorpion chewing mandatory. Something like that.

"Where the hell are McManus and those Whig guys? And hey, who tried to pass this bill requesting that 'goodly Christian men of The United States should sand down their nipples to chest level so as to remain appropriately modest in the winter months?!'"