Monthly Archives: April 2010

I love these guys.

Honestly, this is the best thing I’ve seen all week. I know some guys on their way to Afghanistan soon, and I’m kind of hoping to see one of them in a video like this. It would be awesome.

I love you guys! Keep safe!

Extremely important.

All I know is that Charlie Crist needs to lay off the tanning for awhile. Seriously, he looks like old shoe leather.


And the upside of my exploding hard drive is that I got to install this shiny new version of Ubuntu. The downside is that I think my battery is trashed. Win some, lose some. At least the netbook was salvageable, considering my dog got tangled in the cord, slammed the computer onto the ground, and dragged it across the living room floor. She’s got a serious mailman issue.

I’ll be back later, but right now I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

Not to get too excited…

I may actually have my laptop back later today. Linux is installing on a borrowed hard drive, and I’m going to sleep. Hopefully all will be well when I wake.

Why we love him.

“There is no such thing as a lost cause because there is no such thing as a Gained Cause. We fight for lost causes because we know that our defeat and dismay may be the preface to our successors’ victory, though that victory itself will be temporary; we fight rather to keep something alive than in the expectation that anything will triumph.”

– T. S. Eliot


I haven’t commented on the conflagration surrounding Arizona’s immigration law yet, and there is a really good reason for that. It is extremely hard for me to separate my emotions from the wholesale slandering of Arizonans. I’m still mulling the issue over, trying to remain measured and passionless in the face of all this misinformation. 

Arizonans are not, on the whole, a bigoted lot. For years and years, we’ve been working and living alongside our southern neighbors and their countrymen who’ve chosen to head north. Hundreds of years, people. Our situation is not something I think the assholes at SNL can readily understand, since illegal Canadian immigrants are not really a problem in NYC. It is so easy for those who don’t live on the southern border to cast quick, lazy, easy judgments that don’t have all that much to do with reality. It’s easy to be smug and self-righteous when you’ve got no horse in the race.

Having lived along the southern border my entire life, I can attest to the fact that this issue is so much more complicated than most of the country can ever imagine. Reducing this to a race issue is so stupid and simplistic that I’m almost embarrassed for the protestors right now. Show your ignorance of the complexity of this issue by painting swastikas on the capitol, that’ll resolve this issue peacefully. 

I’ve got to think about this some more. This is my state you’re all mocking; it’s my home. These are my people and they don’t deserve to have their character besmirched by a bunch of opportunists. 

I’ll comment on it soon, I promise.


Ugh… I’m actually embarrassed for her. How sad. When I read about “Everybody Draw Mohammed Day” I even thought I’d give it a try, though, due to a lack of talent, I am only able to draw unicorns and rainbows. (I was thinking Mohammed on a unicorn, galloping down a rainbow, but that idea has just been done to death. Mohammed would have been clothed, however.) Now, I’m not surprised that an artist has suddenly realized she is urgently needed elsewhere when faced with actual opposition, but it’s disappointing nonetheless. 

It’s just so lame; how do you show your face in public again? How can you ever stand up for something when you’ve rabbited so publicly from the first hint of danger? Not even danger, just opposition. I don’t envy this scared little “cartoonist”, but neither do I feel pity for her. She’s no Dane, that’s for sure.

It goes back to what I was saying yesterday; this world is a big, scary place once you wander outside the safety of our benign societal cocoon, and yet hiding from it doesn’t make that less of a reality. It’s easy to stand up to Pat Robertson because he’s not coming after you with a rusty sword, is he? He’ll denounce you on the 700 Club, say something really loopy and then you’ll get a boost in sales or ratings or whatever. Standing up to bullies with weapons and a twisty sense of religious honor is far more intimidating, and far less attractive. Who cares about ratings once the video of your massive and terminal lobotomy has been sent to your family? Or gone viral on Jihad Web? I guess it comes down to how passionately you believe in the rights and the freedoms afforded by liberal democracy. Is it acceptable to cede one’s freedom of speech for a little less head-chopping? Can you live with yourself if you bow a little to a tyrant, in the hope that he’ll just leave you alone? Are you comfortable with being an appeaser?

A lot of people apparently are. I’m not saying we’ve got to start a fight; we just need to stand firm when we are pushed. That’s all. It shouldn’t be that hard to understand, but apparently it is. Best of luck with that mirror, Ms. Norris.

[H/t: Mark Steyn.]


I’ve really got to read Children of Men again. I’m convinced that sperm counts are falling on account of all those skinny jeans, though there are several other factors that could be causing this. There’s the apparent “appeaser” gene found in our most “evolved” and thus desirable men, which leads to a complete pussification by the age of 35, rendering the male completely sterile. There is the adverse effects of overwaxing and faux-tanning–I believe the clinical term is “compulsive manscaping”–that is known for its sterilization properties. 

As far as blaming the mother–B.S. Just male scientists with mommy issues. Passing the buck to the ladies. How original.

So fight.

You can see why young, urban, post-modern Americans under 57 get most of their news from Comedy Central. What a shame 1930s Fascist Europe was so lacking in cable.

Mark Steyn’s got a great column up at OC Register. I read it in the desert but didn’t feel I could do it justice if I wrote a post about it using my iPhone. I’m not a master typist to begin with, and typing with my thumbs on a touchscreen keyboard pushes the limits of my sanity. I hate the touchscreen keyboard, kids. It’s evil and weird, which is beside the point, really.

This whole Comedy Central/South Park business is just embarrassing. And it isn’t the first time it’s happened. Right after the Danish cartoon riots, the SP team put out a two-parter depicting the prophet. In fact, they provided Comedy Central with two separate endings, allowing the network to pick the “controversial” one or to take the pussy’s way out. You can guess what happened. 

Comedy Central didn’t pull the Scientology episode of South Park, even though one of their main talents, the late Isaac Hayes, walked because of it. Hayes was a Scientologist and was extremely offended by the episode. Comedy Central likewise did not pull the Mormon episode–which was hilarious–even though it was extremely offensive to Mormons. And how many episodes have featured Jesus as an Oprah-style talk show host: benign, well-intentioned, completely ineffectual–when he’s not fighting Santa, that is. Comedy Central is actually a parody of itself–the edgy, hip, controversial network that is only edgy within the confines of its self-imposed political correctness. 

Radical Islam is scary. I get it. People in ski masks hacking off the heads of guys that look like your neighbors for some strange, seemingly insubstantial slight–that’s pretty effed up in today’s world. Mobs attacking cartoonists–cartoonists–for drawings that wouldn’t have caused a ripple a decade ago can be a scary sight to the network exec, a variant of our species that is not known for its courage or forthrightness. (If South Park didn’t make Comedy Central money, Parker and Stone would be out on their asses.) The thing about bullies–and that’s what these Islamists are–is that they only thrive in a climate of fear. If you fear them, if you blink, they own you. Their power comes from your fear, so the only solution is to stand up to them. Don’t cave, don’t negotiate, don’t blink.

A long time ago, when I was 16 and working at a movie theatre, I got into an argument with a guy I worked with. Even as I saw him pull his arm back for the punch, I knew I couldn’t stop running my mouth because if he’d hit 16 year old me, he’d hit his next girlfriend, or his sister, or his mom. I had to stand up to him. I knew it’d hurt and I’d not be able to fight back, but I had to expose him for what he was–a bully. As my co-workers stood frozen, mostly unable to believe that he’d hit me, I told him I wouldn’t back down just because he was bigger than me. (In so many words.) Fortunately, a co-worker dove across the counter and tackled him, saving my face from the punch. (“Not the face! Not the face!”) This a-hole had started the argument and then tried to end it with violence, attempting to strike down an obviously weaker opponent who’d done nothing–I swear!–but stand up for herself. Did he do it again? Nope. Did he ask me out later? Yep. Did I tell him to eff off? You betcha.

So, apparently, my metaphorical balls are bigger than those of the entire executive staff of Comedy Central, though that is, again, not the point. The point is that this world may seem slick and civilized, but we’re still running on primal rules. You blink and you’re done. While the civilized world seems to think that conciliatory action may get them a stay of execution, it only cements their demise. We only get to survive if we fight, whether that is with ideas or weapons. 

So fight.

Song of the Day.

Today’s song is Johnny Cash’s “God’s Gonna Cut You Down.”

What’s done in the dark will be brought to the light.

Song of the day.

The title is a little misleading, as there are multiple songs that I had on repeat today. “Good Woman” by Cat Power, whom I usually avoid on account of the uberhip-ness of her celeb following; “Black-hearted Love” by PJ Harvey, which contains my current favorite lyric: “When you call out my name in rapture/I volunteer my soul for murder”; “A Perfect Day Elise” which contains my old favorite lyric, “God is the sweat running down his back/The water soaked her blond hair black/It’s a perfect day, Elise”; and of course, Emmylou’s “All My Tears”.

On the radio.

Are you listening to Steyn fill in for Rush today? You’ve got a little more than an hour left. Get on it!

I always resolve to call in when Steyn’s on, but my life invariably conspires to prevent it. Someday.

High noon.

This is what I’m talking about, kids. Firing. Squad. Old West-style justice? So what? Back then, no one wanted to get caught by the sheriff because they knew the consequences would be timely, extraordinarily painful, and permanent. 

The convicted murderer in question shot a US attorney in an escape attempt, so it’s only fair that he should die in a hail of bullets. His defense attorneys beg to differ:

Defense attorneys, who declined comment ahead of Friday’s hearing, have asked Reese not to sign the warrant and convert the sentence to life in prison without the possibility of parole. They say killing Gardner after 25 years on death row amounts to cruel and unusual punishment.

Really? That’s the argument? That’s the best they could do? Please.

Line ‘em up and take ‘em out.


This is great. Not being generously endowed, I have many low-cut blouses to choose from for Boobquake. I put it on my calendar and I’ll be doing my part on Monday to throw the world into the fiery chaos of the apocalypse. 

Get your affairs in order, people. The world’s gonna end on Monday.