In Which Teachers Are Armed

February 22nd, 2018 No comments

When you only have a hammer, every problem looks like a nail
– Chinese (or something) proverb

Really, this post should be one word long: “No.” Or five words long: “Are you fucking kidding me??” But let’s think about exactly how stupid this idea is.

The teacher has a gun. Where do they keep it? In their desk drawer? I’m sure the kids would never dare each other to open that drawer to see the teacher’s gun. But on the very, very, very small chance that a well behaved child might get tempted, let’s say the drawer is locked. Because we care about the safety of children and we don’t want them to shoot themselves in the face with the thing that’s keeping them safe from getting shot in the face.

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Ok. So the shooter blasts the door of the classroom, guns blazing and you expect the teacher to calmly fish out the key from (where did they put it?) that’s place they put it, put the key in the lock, turn it to the right, push all the candy, memos, pens, pencils, etc that got piled on top of it, take it out, remember to disengage the safety, aim it and put a bullet through the perp’s head perfectly between their eyes. While the perp shoots 45-90 rounds per minute.

Sure. That works. What could go wrong?

Hm. Maybe, like the Boy Scouts, the teacher should ABP (Always Be Prepared). So the gun stays on the teacher’s desk. Like a paperweight. That can kill people. I’m sure that’s conducive to learning. Why would the child focus on the gun that’s reminding them that at any moment they could get shot? But when the shooter bursts through the door, guns blazing, I’m sure that the teacher (who willingly gave up even more of their time for an unpaid gun training course) would keep their wits about them and calmly pick up the gun on their desk, disengage the safety, twirl it around their finger like Wyatt Earp, and (BANG BANG) one dead perp and classroom full of grateful children who aren’t dead. Easy peasy!

I’m also 100% sure that, because all teachers have to take lessons on looking like a Norman Rockwell painting and need to pass a yearly mental fitness exam, they would never, ever, ever consider using the gun on their desk as a disciplinary tool against, say, the mouthy minority kid who refuses to show the teacher the proper, unearned respect they’re deserved.*

And, of course, who’s paying for a gun in every classroom? Or the bullets. Or the insurance? One could get cynical and say this an attempt by the NRA to sell more guns. But they wouldn’t do that. Right?

The whole conceit is bullshit. It’s yet another attempt to find someone else to blame for the issue rather than deal with the issue head on. It’s the worst flow chart in the world with branches going off into Tex Avery inspired surrealism. “Was there a shooting?” “Yes.” “Could have been prevented?” “No.” “Force teachers to carry firearms and take unpaid military training.” “Did that prevent the next one?” “No.” “Handcuff everyone in the school when they enter.” “Did that work?” “No.” “Home school.”

Owning a gun doesn’t make you Hans Solo. You’re more likely to be a Storm Trooper.

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Anyone want to take a guess on how long it takes to become proficient with a gun? It’s not an overnight thing. I’ve shot a gun and I’m glad I did. I don’t know that I ever would again, but I know that they’re not toys and that you can’t jump off a building, do a roll, snap up into a crouch and and hit your target. I literally had no idea what the kick of a Glock felt like. So imagine asking teachers to become professional marksmen. There’s no better argument against this bullshit than this.

*In one Baltimore school, there’s an unwritten law that if a teacher goes outside the building during the day for lunch or a smoke they need to leave their cell phone with another teacher to ensure that they’ll come back. I’m not joking about that.

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In Which Oprah 2020 Is Just Fucking Stupid

January 8th, 2018 No comments

“If Jimmy jumped off a cliff, would you?
– Your mom

Look. I get it. (t)Rump is a piece of shit who had a hit TV show, name recognition and played the MSM for every dime he could wring from their shrinking budgets. He’s made good on almost none of the promises in his ridiculous Gingrich rip-off, The Contract With American Voter. He’s made America more of a laughing stock and alienated our allies. Every day brings a new low in his presidency both personally and poll-wise.

The correct response, in my opinion, is to learn the lessons and NOT act like the wingnuts who sat on their asses gobbling up his racist, sexist rhetoric thinking they’d, at last, found a white man who told the truth and wouldn’t lie to them because he wasn’t a politician.

[I’m sorry. I just spit lemonade all over my keyboard laughing about this. Think about how fucking stupid you have to be to believe that the not-a-politician guy is honest because…he’s not a politician? “He gone do what he done say he gone do cuz he ain’t from that thar lyin’, theivin’ Warshington! Thaz gud nuff fer me!” And these are most likely the same people who’ve lost their life savings to the soldier in Iraq would found $7.2m and want their help to illegally smuggle it out of the country.]

To continue: The correct response is for Democrats to sit down and (as HRC declined to do) look at the landscape of the America psyche and find a candidate that could win. In this case (and call me whatever the fuck you want to, I don’t really care) that’s a white male that will comfort the rednecks and farmers who fell for (t)Rump’s bullshit. I’m not going to belabor this point, honestly, but HRC was the wrong candidate at the exact wrong time. I can almost hear the pitch in my head:

Well, SURE they call Obama a Commie, Muslim, faggot nigger to his face. But once they get to know Hillary, they’ll fall in love with her!

And that’s what this Oprah thing is to me on both of the worst levels.

Level One: I had a bunch of friends who took off because I couldn’t support HRC. One accused me of “personally” electing (t)Rump. Personally? Yes. Personally. That’s why I put it in quotes. I am, with my 300 odd FB followers apparently SO FUCKING POWERFUL I elected (t)rump. And, since I’m a recovering alcoholic, he told me he wished I’d never stopped drinking. Because…party unity? If, and I wouldn’t put it past her, Oprah (who I guess we’d call President Oprah because President Winfrey doesn’t scan as well) decides that she wants to give all America BEES A NEW CAR and runs, she will be a force to be reckoned with. That train will be tough to stop because wingnuts aren’t the only ones who sit on their asses watching biased news and Dancing With The Stars. There’s a lot of Democrats, too. The amount of erect lady-wood from Democrats over a black, female president…holy crap, I almost passed out from the estrogen overload. If you were a Bernie-crat, you know where I’m going with this because you’ve lived it. If you were an HRC supporter, you’re already retooling your HRC memes and adding the word “racist” to them. With Oprah in the mix, we’re at a point where this is no longer about who the best and brightest is to lead the country. It’s about who a small group of ideologues thinks should lead the country. More succinctly, it’s about who’s the bigger TV star. Because…

Level Two: Experience no longer matters. That boat sailed. This is the ultimate tragedy of (t)Rump. Literally, anyone can be president. During the bush administration, I casually said, in response to the president-you-can-have-a-beer-with bullshit, that we should just elect that really nice guy at the 7-11. We’re at that point now. Every hour bring us closer to the place where Sideshow Bob says at Krusty’s trial for robbery, “You don’t have to read to enjoy the Springfield Review of Books! Look at all these amusing caricatures of Gore Vidal and Susan Sontag!” Anyone can be president because no one can train to be president. (Except…ya know…alderman…and state legislators…and congresspeople…and governors…and…) Because a bunch of red-meat loving rednecks honestly don’t understand how government works no one else needs to, either. And, with Oprah, it seems like Democrats decided to make that leap as well. I’ve literally seen people on social media say that the problem with (t)Rump wasn’t that he didn’t have experience but that he was evil.

That’s a Democrat. And she’s AMPED about Oprah. Fuck experience! She’s not evil!

Mom: If President (t)Rump jumped off a cliff, would you?
Child: Is the cliff evil?

The actual question is “Is the cliff qualified to be a fucking cliff to begin with?” Maybe it’s just a curb.

So here we are. There are no standards left in American government. This was the GOP plan all along. It’s what Grover Norquist has dreamed about his entire life (besides banging a Muslim woman.) “I don’t want to abolish government. I simply want to reduce it to the size where I can drag it into the bathroom and drown it in the bathtub.” Democrats, by refusing to put forth candidates of substance who speak plainly and bring their case to the people who need it most, Middle America, are guilty of hastening the Republican dream.

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In Which Only REAL Americans Aren’t In The Bubble

September 6th, 2017 No comments

Let’s check out a population density map, shall we? The darker the color, the greater the number of people. Where do you think most of the people live? Are they farmers in the Midwest? Do they live in the cities? How about Alaska? Yeah. The cities have the largest population density. A lot of cities spring up because of trade which means they’re easy to get to. Coastal cities tend to be the most diverse because they traders from all over the world travel there to sell their goods. You can’t tell businessman from China to go fuck themselves because he’s got stuff you want to buy and that doesn’t make good business sense. People who live on trade routes, by the nature of commerce, have to get along with everyone. People who live in landlocked areas tend toward homogeneity and have no problem telling strangers to go fuck themselves because they don’t see many strangers and they’re scary.

There’s a lot of talk lately about the ideological “bubble”. Naturally, who’s in the bubble depends on whether you believe you’re in the bubble or not.  There are ways to look at the bubble objectively.

And then there’s Charles Murray.

Here’s something that Murray said: “Try to imagine a … presidential candidate saying in front of the cameras, ‘One reason that we still have poverty in the United States is that a lot of poor people are born lazy.’ You cannot imagine it because that kind of thing cannot be said. And yet this unimaginable statement merely implies that when we know the complete genetic story, it will turn out that the population below the poverty line in the United States has a configuration of the relevant genetic makeup that is significantly different from the configuration of the population above the poverty line. This is not unimaginable. It is almost certainly true.”
—“Deeper Into the Brain,” National Review, 2000

Let me put this as delicately as possible: Charles Murray is a racist piece of shit. So who better than to judge if “you’re” in the bubble or not? Guess what? If you’re not a underperforming white, Christian (probably) male who makes less than $50k and didn’t go to college, you’re in the bubble. Also: guess who went to Harvard.

A friend of mine posted this quiz. I took it without really paying attention to who put it together. As I continued, it became more and more obvious someone was trying to prove a point. It was only after I’d finished it that I went back and saw the name. At first it didn’t click but then…CHARLES FUCKING MURRAY??? THE BELL CURVE? The PBS News Hour is posting something from CHARLES FUCKING MURRAY? The guy who co-wrote The Bell Curve which posited that blacks and women were inferior because of their genes?

So take a gaze in horror what passes for intellect from a Harvard grad.
Because if you’ve never lived in a “rural” setting then you’re a snob and you live in a bubble. You city folk with your high-falutin’ ways just don’t understand America.
Notice the gentrification clause because that magically negates those 50 nearest neighbors not having college degrees because…stuff. Besides, college is for losers.

 Because you know that American dream thing about working your way up to the top? Yeah, that’s a lie. We’re penalizing you because your family did well. There’s no way to have a white collar job and not be in the bubble. If your parents had any kind of values, they’d have stayed working a back-breaking dead end job. THAT is what America is.

Oh! Look! Let’s demonize education some more! You know who lives in metropolitan cities? Snobs. And snobs invade small communities and establish “colleges” there that become the economy that keeps them alive. You’re just a tourist in the town that…your money supports.

Let’s set up some more very specific guidelines to downplay the fact that you could barely feed yourself during “graduate school.” That doesn’t count. That’s not four to ten years of poverty. You just pretended to be poor and struggle to make ends meet. You didn’t really mean it. You have to be a noble poor person with no possible way out. Also, it doesn’t count if you busted your ass at CVS and climbed the corporate ladder to a better life.

And this is where you tell Charles Murray to go fuck himself. This is basically a setup/punchline situation. “Did you actually work for a living or just stop by to sneer at the workers there?” Notice, too, the plural of “factory floors” implying that you’re some kind of management gadabout staying at the Ritz while you survey your flyover country fiefdom. Or maybe some government OSHA employee making life harder for the workers by enforcing stupid safety regulations.

Did you really work or just pretend to work before you went back to your cush Harvard dorm room after breaking your ass to scrape up tuition for the next semester?
No. Really. Did the job actually cripple you? Because if it didn’t, fuck you, bubble boy. You don’t know the common man. Go back to North Korea.

Another “fuck you” moment. Because if you’re not a Christian in America then you don’t know anything. There ARE no atheists on the factory floor.

Possibly the only honest question in the whole survey. This actually gets to the heart of what the bubble is about. Do you stay in your cocoon? Although, I suspect that an editor looked at the original draft and said “Ya know, we should add something about conservatives.”

More ideological bullshit. “Do you know a lot of dumbasses who can only get menial jobs on factory floors that keep them at the poverty line?” What does this have to do with the bubble? Answer: Nothing. What this basically does is lay the groundwork for the idiocracy. This is also the first hand-tip pointing towards Murray’s inherent racism. The person the question alludes to is the one who sues the local government because a more qualified minority got the job. Conversely, they’re the person who sues the government because a less qualified minority got the job. The big question is: why are C-students “more real” then and A or B student?

What the FUCK does this even mean?? And, no, I’m not reading the rationalizations provided. Smoking used to be a nation past time. Using smoking as some kind of gauge of credibility or demonization is just insulting.


0.4% of Americans are in active military service. I think it’s pretty obvious which side of the bubble they’re in. But, sure, let’s perpetuate the myth that you can’t be the salt of the earth if you’re not in the military or at least want to pretend that you could have been if it hadn’t been for the bone spur. This is a seriously alt-reality question.

Are you white trash? I didn’t know who Jimmie Johnson is. 80% of NASCAR fans are white. Yeah, there’s a racial component to this survey.

Are you white trash Part 2. I live in Boston. There are a FUCK load of shiny, shiny pickup trucks with nary a dent in them, no mud and have probably never left the city. This question serves only to show who the REAL Americans are.

What the actual fuck? Outside of the horrible phrasing of the question (“Hey, Kipster, I know the Regatta is coming up so I bought you some Pabst Blue Ribbon for your fridge.”) is Murray even away that PBR  came back from the grave due to…hipsters? If you’re defining a bubble by the kind of beer someone drinks…YOU MAY BE A REDNECK.

Nothing to do with the bubble and everything to do with defining what a REAL American looks like. Also…FIVE YEARS? Going fishing every five years keeps you in touch with the common man? Gimme a fucking break.

Do you like chain restaurants that serve heavily processed food that are usually travesties (that done mean perversion) of the original dishes? Are you afraid of strong tastes? Are regional variations on standard dishes the whole point of an open-carry law? Mass marketed food is the biggest bubble of them all.

You get bonus point for

  1. Date raping a cheerleader
  2. Beating up a chess club or debating team faggot
  3. If you’re a cheerleader, hiding an abortion from your parents
  4. A point for every time you relived that great play from that one game. Remember that one? GodDAMN that was great! Wonder how I’m gonna pay the cable bill AND the heating bill this month.

It is not enough to have worked on the factory floor you had be part of the power structure that worked for your advancement to the point where you could make enough money to negate all of your poverty and achieve the dream of living in the bubble.

If you needed any more proof that this survey is a complete fraud, look no further. It’s simply a glorification of wingnut values. So joining the Nazis in Charlottesville gets you a point. A gay pride parade just makes you a faggot. Faggots live in the bubble. Nazis don’t.

Condescending much? I guess if you live in the bubble then you don’t understand that a costume isn’t a uniform. I wonder if Murray considers those losers working at McDonald’s because they could only get C’s in school “uniformed workers.”

Nah. My chauffer drives me everywhere.

“We know things are bad – worse than bad. They’re crazy. It’s like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don’t go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is: ‘Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials and I won’t say anything. Just leave us alone.’ – Howard Beale
See previous comment

Seriously, which bubble are we talking about here? Note the phrasing: “…all the way through”, because, as a country, we have such long attention spans. What about the “REAL” Americans (of whom I used to be one) who kept the TV on any time I was home, regardless of what was on? Does that count as “watching all the way through”? What about flipping around during the commercials?

And let’s end with another setup/punchline. Branson can only mean one of two things. Either it’s a rich guy using his money for the betterment of society and living life to the fullest or a place to go here Yakov Smirnoff’s new material. Obviously, the “entertainment center” is the only correct answer. Except it’s not a “center” it’s a city full of clubs theaters where you can see “Voices! A Salute to Fred Travalena” or “Ray Stevens: It’s OK To Compare Me To Jesus Because I’m Doing The Lord’s Work.” And do you really know Branson? Have you taken the time to check out Branson’s Famous Baldknobbers? Or The Shepard of the Hills Inspiration Tower?

Did you make it without throwing up? Good news! You’re not in the bubble!

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In Which This Should Be A No-Brainer

February 24th, 2017 No comments

All 240 Family Christian Stores Are Closing

Really? All of them? Man, God must HATE them, huh?

Stop and think about what had to have happened here. If you listen to Crosstalk America or Focus on the Family, you probably know that Christian businesses are the most moral and best run businesses around. Capitalism is inherently moral because God is a capitalist. God wants you to get His message to the public, not only that but to becomes wealthy off of His heavenly merch table. Best of all – no royalties! Quote the bible? Free of charge! Got a new interpretation of the inerrant Word of God (the next apocalypse prediction is August 2017)? There are literally tens of thousands of people willing to pony up $14.95 plus shipping and handling to find out what God really meant when he said [insert bible quote here]. Golden calves are bad unless you can mass produce and turn a profit off of them.

But Family Christian stores went bankrupt selling Jesus merch. Dunno if you know this but God destroys cities with giant fetus shaped hurricanes for displeasing him. You’d think he’d cut the followers a break and soften the heart of creditors. Especially the Christian ones.

But 27 Christian publishers, including InterVarsity Press, Baker, Charisma Media, David C. Cook, and Abingdon Press, objected to the retailer’s restructuring plan, under which the chain would get to own $20 million worth of items bought on consignment “free and clear,” without paying the suppliers.

“You think I’m giving you $20m of free shit? What am I? A charity? Are you a Sanders supporter or something? Look. I like you. God likes you. You’re a good guy. But if you think I’m giving you 300 copies of “Pray Yourself Rich in 30 Days” you’re outta your fucking mind! …Yeah, I know they’d sell. My company is making a profit. But right now, you couldn’t make a profit selling Bibles to born-agains. In fact…YOU HAVEN’T…Sure, the “Lord will provide”. I’m not worried about “The Lord” right now. I’m worried about the guy at the bank who gets cranky when we’re late on the interest payments from the OTHER loan we gave you…Yes, the Lord helps those who help themselves and right now, you’ve already helped yourself to enough of my business and I am NOT my brother’s goddamn keeper.”

Or something like that.


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In Which I’m Conflicted As To What To Be Furious About

February 17th, 2017 No comments

Outside of the beginnings of a cold, it’s been a decent day. Quiet. Enjoyable. Cleaning the kitchen, watching a few movies and arguing with people on Facebook. Relaxing! But now I’m pissed and I can’t figure out what’s worse

  1. The last minute of the otherwise enjoyable Death Game
  2. The seemingly unhinged rantings of a former Facebook friend I met the last time I went to LA and had a lovely time with.

1. Death Game involves a home invasion, very similar to Funny Games but with two psychotic women (Sandra Locke and Colleen Camp). They show up a random stranger’s house while his family deals with a medical emergency, seduce him and refuse to leave. It’s tense, violent, sexy and nightmarish. They don’t pull any punches or try to humanize or explain the invasion. It just happens and this unfortunate guy gets subjected to a myriad of punishments and mindfucks. (And here comes the spoiler alert) Funny Games devastates you because the happy end never shows up. No one survives (as the villains predict at the beginning) and the perpetrators just wander off to the next home to terrorize. And it’s all perfectly calm. Almost like a comedy of manners with blood and no jokes. Thus, it amazed me to see almost the same film made 20 years before. Death Game contains a lot more histrionics and showiness but there’s a direct line between the two movie. So, as it sped toward the climax, the killer question hung in the balance – how does this thing end? Without giving away what happens to the victim, the perpetrators wander out the front door and skip down the sidewalk. SCORE! That’s exactly how it should end! They get away! And it got made in 1974! Damn! Color me, impresse- oh wait they get killed by a speeding van.

Fuck you, movie. Just. Fuck. You.

It’s was one thing for that to happen in Get Carter three years earlier. It made a lot of sense. The movie was all about nihilism. It fit. Redemption doesn’t redeem. But for Death Game it smacks of 1930’s post-code “shit, they can’t get away with it and we can’t re-write the script so…hit by a van…I guess?” Or maybe they took How To Write Good to heart?

Either way – fury. 90 minutes of amazing shot down by 3 seconds of bullshit.

2. I ran in troll circles with this guy. He’s bright and clever. I enjoyed his work and his outlook. When I went to LA we met and he very graciously walked me around the architectural landmarks, including the stunning Bradbury building that, much to my surprise, affected me so deeply, I came very close to crying. We walked and talked and he even shows up at the end of a BBN video. We had, as far as Facebook goes, a pretty close friendship.

And then the 2016 election happened.

I didn’t vote for HRC. I couldn’t. I had too many problems with her – fracking, Wall St., her condescending treatment of Black Lives Matter, somehow convincing John Lewis to lie for her in front of a camera, the fact that a large majority of what she says gets followed up a few days later with “well, what I meant to say was…”. From the start of her tenure as FLOTUS, she backed down from statements her supporters cheered her for making. Remember the cookies comment? “I could have stayed home and baked cookies”? She walked that back pretty quickly. I felt that her coquettish entrance into the 2016 primary (WILL SHE OR WON’T SHE???) insulted a bunch of candidates who didn’t enter because they knew it would be pointless. On 9.9.08, she was the presumptive nominee for 2016. I resented that. I also resented that the media did a shit job covering the the other candidates for the Democratic Primary. And I GODDAMN resented the DNC believing that the most hated woman in US politics would magically brush all that aside for 50.1%. I was pretty vocal about it.

What I also said was, “fuck her emails”, “fuck ‘they’re all the same'” and “fuck Sanders supporters who parroted rightwing talking points”. I was pretty clear about that. I was vocal about that, too.

But, just as not supporting HRC makes you (through some strange alchemy) racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic etc. etc. etc. it also means that you PERSONALLY elected (t)Rump. Seriously?

If you’ve never argued with wingnuts (and I hope you haven’t), you’ll quickly find that no matter what ironclad, universally accepted facts you give them they will either not accept them or move the goalposts.

Here’s an actual example. To demonstrate this to a wingnut, I posted, “I bet you don’t agree that A and B are the first letters of the alphabet.” His response? “Which alphabet?” That’s just all kinds of perfect.

My FFB (Former Facebook Friend) and I share many friends. Over the past several days, when I left a comment on one of their posts, who pops up to chide me “for electing Trump”? Yup. FFB. And it’s getting more and more unhinged. His argument is that “you have no right to whine about him because you elected Trump”. Did I? I don’t remember that. I remember voting my conscience and that was certainly not (t)Rump. Let’s be clear, here. I live in Massachusetts which went for HRC even though I didn’t. If I lived in a red state, sure, I’d have to accept that as true. But I don’t. And he knows that. But in his mind not voting for HRC meant voting for (t)Rump.

Which is bullshit and I reject that.

HRC, like Kerry, Gore and Dukakis, was a shit candidate. The amount of political baggage she carried would have crippled…well…an elephant. But throughout the entire proceedings she and her campaign showed incredible arrogance that, given the staff she put together, beating this political newcomer would be a cakewalk. No. Possible. Way. She. Could. Lose. Period. I mean, LOOK at the guy? He’s a train wreck! He lies. He’s an idiot. He can’t stay on message. HRC, smooth, polished and tempered by 30yrs in politics? C’mon. Put up your daughter’s virginity as collateral. What ever you have to do! Put. Your. Money. On. HRC.

Remember her response to Bernie supporters? I think it went something like…um…let me see…oh yeah – “fuck you.” They didn’t need the independent votes because she was HILLARY FUCKING CLINTON, you dumbass. She used the same tactics of ridicule that lost her the primary against Obama. Obamabots became Berniebots. Same script. I mean…IT WORKED THE LAST TIME, RIGHT?? Then, oops, maybe she should make nice with the independent voters. Suddenly, she’s adopted Sanders’ platform and she’d always believed in that. Always.

As the gap closed in between her and (t)Rump, we were told “Don’t worry about it! She’s got the ground game! Order the drapes for the Oval Office cuz we’re going to Disneyland!” HRC supporters completely forgot about Sanders’ supporters in those heady days. The vast majority of “BernieBots” supported her once the nomination got sealed.


That’s the definition of treason, folks. That’s the HRC version of white genocide. As bush said, “You’re either for us or against us. Choose up sides, people of Massachusetts! It’s not even going to be close here, but we’re watching you!”

In the end, as you recall, HRC lost the election she couldn’t lose. Was it my fault personally?

Given that I have 352 friend on Facebook, I’m gonna go with no. I’m not that powerful and never thought myself to be. A few of my anti-HRC memes got a small amount of traction but, c’mon.

The other charge leveled is “the constant drumbeat of right wing talking points suppressed support for her.” Again – that wasn’t me. I actually fought against that saying numerous times, “There’s plenty enough to hate about her without resorting to wingnut talking points. Stop.”

Doesn’t matter, though, because I’m not sure FFB actually paid attention to what I wrote. Like with wingnuts, his worldview is everybody’s worldview and facts don’t matter. I’m not to be judged on my actions but on the actions of others. It doesn’t matter that he should know my position because I was very, very clear about it. “YOU THINK BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME.” No. No, I don’t. It’s insulting that he thinks so.

I shook his hand and spend 3hrs wandering around LA with him. I really enjoyed his company. I put up with his HRC posts and rarely challenged him because I liked him. He, on the other hand, constantly harangued me throughout the election and beyond. Maybe he feels betrayed. Maybe the loss shattered his sense of self. Whatever the reason, I’ve become his whipping boy. I don’t like it. It actually makes me sad that he can’t get past our differences. But that’s him.  That’s HRC. Not me. Her job was to win over people like me. She didn’t do it.

I’ve voted third party since 2000 with the exception of Obama in 2008. I’m not a fan of either party. They work for the same business interests but they are not the same at all. For me, it came down to fracking. HRC’s disingenuous and embarrassing ramble on she’d tighten the regulations to the point where it would be impossible to frack stood in sharp contrast to Sanders’ “no”.

I couldn’t vote for her. I didn’t vote for her. I’m not sorry.

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In Which I’m Not Typing AMEN

February 16th, 2017 No comments

Amen profile


I get it. You’re so religious that you feel the need to tell everyone on Facebook how religious you are because…that will change people’s minds? Ok. So maybe I don’t get it. I’m an atheist and not a joiner. I’m honestly happy and supportive of your religious choices. I’m not an anti-theist. If religion is how you make sense of randomness of the world and it makes you feel better that it was God’s Plan() that three year-old Jimmy shot his baby sister in the head rather than finding a way to prevent that from happening then more power to you.

Was that judgmental? Probably. But here’s the reason why.

Because your obsessive need to make sure that God and social media know how devout you are actually leaves you open to attack by what I guess you’d refer to as “the forces of Satan.” You’re profiling yourself to the bad guys and inviting them into your computer and possibly your bank account.

There has been a “copy and paste” post going around recently about animal abuse. As well as the directive to “Do not share” but instead “copy and paste” this, the post contains a key phrase with incorrectly spelt words.

A person who copies and pastes it can easily be found by searching Google with the operand “key phrase here”

The potential scammer can now see a long, long list of Facebook users who have copied and pasted the exact message about animal abuse.

Now they have a target list of people who they can be reasonably sure will react to a new post, an new “like” request, a new friend request, or some other “support us” plea that is related to animal abuse….

Key phases to look out for run along these lines:

“don’t scroll without typing amen.”
“if you woke up this morning and you are thankful every day while being bless scroll down and type amen”

Confidence schemes work because the grifter exchanges confidence for money. This is how it works.

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Sadly, too many people have a Pavlovian response to the word Jesus. Using the name “in vain” provokes anger. Using it in praise leads to euphoria. Or vice versa if you’re a non-believer. The nefarious understand this and use it to their advantage. Thus, you get Facebook pages with millions of viewers that do nothing but post pretty memes with bible verses so that the user can…remember they’re Christian? Seriously. I don’t understand it. What I do understand is that the higher the number of likes the higher the probability that someone is counting there money and giggling. I don’t mean to single out Christians per se. The clickbait political sites on both sides of the aisle do the same thing. Any Facebook page with tens of thousands of likes that asks you to like and share rarely cares about what they’re promoting. Each click makes them money and raises their profile. Just to be clear, they’re not all scams. Reputable enterprises turn to this tactic because that’s the tactic that works.

So what’s the difference and why should you care? Because Proctor and Gamble, the ACLU and the GOP are businesses. I Believe In Jesus Christ shouldn’t be. Am I implying that the proprietor of that page isn’t a Christian? No. I’m saying they’re leveraging your belief to make money. Not directly because it doesn’t cost you anything except your personal information and if you’re ok with someone turning your sincere belief into cash money that’s fine. Just understand that when you copy/paste/share that altruism isn’t their top priority. Unless explicitly stated, that money is going into the pockets of the moneychangers in the temple. Even if explicitly stated there’s no guarantee they’re telling the truth. Have you seen Joel Osteen’s many houses? Sincere Christians paid for him to have a temperature controlled wine cellar.

Joel Osteen HomeOur God is an awesome God!
He gave me this huge home

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In Which Your RIP Memes Are Shit

December 8th, 2016 No comments


It started with this one. After Nelson Mandela’s death, some Twitter users, suffering from TALAS (They All Look Alike Syndrome) confused Mandela and Morgan Freeman resulting in this meme. And it’s a good one. It provides a good commentary on TALAS and works as social criticism. It makes sense. It says something. It’s amusing. That’s my criteria for for trolling. Keep it relevant, smart and pointed.

When Lenny Bruce first started swearing in the 60’s he shocked people. He swore for a reason, though. He didn’t gratuitously drop profanity. He wielded his words as weapons to puncture society with. Not too long afterwards, when you didn’t get arrested for saying “cocksucker” in public, the floodgates opened and, though through the wonders of money-driven entertainment, audiences expected comics to swear. Comics rapidly blunted the (s)words until you couldn’t cleanly cut a tomato with them. It became a race to who could say the most offensive thing. The hacks took over.

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I trolled hard for awhile. I’d like to think I was good at it. My various alts could lead the unsuspecting piece of shit racist/wingnut/homophobe/Islamaphobe down a golden path, getting him to agree with ever more horrific statements until they realized they’d step over the invisible line of tact and euphemism and into the truth of their hate based philosophy. I infiltrated a few members only email groups and Facebook groups where they dropped all pretense freely threw “nigger”, “jew” and “camel fucker” around gleefully. I’ve been privileged to be a part of some outstanding websites and Facebook groups exposing wingnuts for the miserable human beings they are.

Sadly, the Golden Age passed to the second wave who, like the post-Bruce hacks, lived for the yuks and to piss people off regardless of the target. The sense of purpose fell by the wayside for pageviews, like counts and notoriety. Like SNL, they got complacent and refused to believe that the well would go dry. As a result, the content got worse, descending to coarseness with no wit or sting whatsoever. This, of course, is my own, snobby subjective opinion. But I know I’m not alone. Most of the people I respect now do their own thing on their own time leaving the kids to their kid stuff.

So, now we have the Death Memes. A Death Meme is when you take someone who’s just died, hopefully within an hour of their death, and post “RIP [Insert Name]” with a picture of someone else with the similar name. It needn’t have any relevance. John Glenn just passed and I’ve seen “Glen Campbell” and “John Goodman”. When I see these I block them immediately. They’re pointless and stupid.

Why Death Memes? Why do people feel the need to make them?

Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s death hit me hard. As a recovering alcoholic, it really hurt that he gave into his addictions. The man was a genius. His ability to put himself into another person’s body and mind, his subtleness and phrasing…dear god, what a tragedy. My favorite moment of his is in The Big Lebowski when he shows the Dude the Big Lebowski’s photo gallery. “This picture was taken when she [Nancy Reagan] was first lady of the NATION.” Where that line reading came from is anyone’s guess. But no one could have sold it except him.

I’d already had it with the Death Memes before his death, but they came fast and furious. One of the public groups I was in had a private planning group where “fans” were invited to leave their memes for consideration. Several Hoffman Death Memes popped up and I snapped.

“What is the fucking POINT of these? One of the greatest actors of our generation just died of a heroin overdose and you’re doing hacky, shitty death memes an hour after he’s dead? Why does he deserve this? What agenda does it put forward? Seriously – WHY?”

The answer?

“Calm down, man. It’s what we do.”

Yeah. “It’s what we do.”

It went back and forth with me trying explain why that was the shittiest answer you could possibly give and them trying to say that I was butthurt, too old, too thin-skinned and had no sense of humor. After a few hours of this, I realized the futility of it and quietly left the group.

I hate The Three Stooges. It’s a one-joke premise. You watch because, like Napoleon in Time Bandits says, “THAT’S WHAT I LIKE! LITTLE PEOPLE! HITTING EACH OTHER.” But I get why you’d find it funny. I honestly understand it. I didn’t like the South Park episodes I’ve watched but it’s the same thing. I get what they’re doing and I get why other people think it’s hilarious. I get why some people think Nichols and May sucks. I get why my wife can’t stand InfoChammel.

But I cannot understand why someone thinks Death Memes are funny. Given my interaction with creators, they can’t either. “It’s…Glen Campbell…but it says JOHN GLENN! GET IT? One of the first men to go into space DIED and I put his name of GLEN Campbell, not John Glenn! Get it?! GET IT??!!”

When websites first got the ability for people to leave comments the kids used to have a competition to see who could comment first. In most cases, they didn’t even read the article. They’d sit at their computers hitting F5 until a new post showed up and wrote “First!” That’s it. “First.” Because they were first. And that was supposed to mean something. Writing “First”. To show they were first. No context. No meaning. Just mindless competition to see who had the biggest cyber-dick. Those idiots are now making Death Memes. Because they want to be pointlessly first.

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In Which I’m Listening To A Lot Of Old Rockabilly – Mike McAlister

April 28th, 2016 No comments

I don't dig it

I’m driving much shorter distances and less frequently lately which effectively derails my 3 year streak of obsessively listening to audio books. I’m a little bit sad about that but not enough to want to go back to the stress and work load I had previously. Even with SiriusXM, I don’t have much in common with radio. I guess that there’s no room with all James Taylor and Elvis stations to host a free-form channel. Not that there’s anything wrong with listening to every single live performance Sweet Baby James ever recorded. And not to say that I don’t get into genre grooves.

Speaking of which…

I stumbled across a 10-CD set called Nasty Rockabilly recently which kept me company over the past several weeks. As a history buff and a cultural history buff, at that, I find old music fascinating, the more obscure the better. The songs that didn’t make it, didn’t make it for a multitude of reasons. In many cases, the glut of that new-fangled “rock and rock” music provided the greatest barrier to entry. With so many diamonds like Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins and the ubiquitous Elvis, shining out from some shitty little town in Arkansas or Montana proved nigh impossible even if you were a local celebrity. And a lot of the performers on this compilation don’t appear to have reached that height. I only recognized Link Wray immediately. Almost nothing is known about Mike McAlister.

I want to highlight some of the songs of note here over the next bit of time. These songs grabbed my attention for one reason or another – either they rocked, had a cool hook, whored themselves shamelessly to exploit the trend, outright sucked or, in the case of I Don’t Dig It, made me scratch my head.

Given there’s no songwriting credit, I assume that Mike wrote this tune. And if you take the text as a psychological profile…don’t date this guy…even in the 50’s. The songs strikes me a musical cognitive dissonance. Early rock and roll garnered a reputation Satan’s music partially due to its direct descendancy from “race music“. The jungle beat forced normally placid, church-going white children to fornicate like savages. It also brought about a resurgence of the drag king movement with girls…not dressing like girls.


Given the loose sexual morals of rock and roll (and, remember, the original Tutti Frutti was about butt sex), finding a song decrying your girlfriend’s dress code seems an odd choice of subject.

You’re a real gone gal in your Sunday best
But when you go home, baby, you change to a mess
I don’t dig it
I don’t dig it
It ain’t right

As with most control freaks, it’s not about the actual issue. It goes deeper. And it’s about sex or the lack thereof. The chronology and logic of the song confuses me. Here’s two of the couplets in order.

When you give me a date, I jump for joy
But when I pick you up, baby, you look like a boy

Well, you tell me, pretty baby, I’m the only one who rates
But all I get from you is a 13th date

Notice anything weird? Swap those two lines and you get a clearer picture. Mike’s gone out with this chick at least twelve times. Every time he’s gone out with her she’s looked like a boy and hasn’t put out. Mike must really want to nail her to keep going back to an obviously dry well. The takeaway, then, is not how she dresses. He uses that excuse to get shame her into a dress that he can slip his hand under. Because Mike thinks if he can just get her started, she’ll be up for some Tutti Frutti.

Ironically, wearing jeans promotes abstinence more effectively than skirts providing a greater…well…barrier to entry.

Check out the short article referencing Mike and Hob Nob records. This is the area The Band came from.

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In Which I’m Not Going To My High School Reunion

July 22nd, 2015 No comments

My high school reunion happens this weekend, apparently. I couldn’t care less. I enjoyed high school to the extent that someone enjoys chemo – the side effects suck but they go away after awhile.

I’ll be honest. I’m slightly envious of people who enjoyed high school. From what I understand, you’re supposed to. Reunions allow you to connect with the people you grew up with and shared experiences with. I envy people those who, like one of my classmates driven by the need to see their high school friends, plans on spending a not insignificant amount of time and money to fly to the other side of country to attend.  I have neither the time, money nor inclination.

I spent high school on the outside. Around ninth grade, I realized the futility of blending in. I didn’t like most of these people. Most of them looked at me with the expression of a dog being shown a card trick. Mutual indifference mostly ruled the day and sometimes spilled over to active disdain. I was too smart to hang with the stoners and too stoned to hang with the brains. Apparently, I was too odd for the drama-ramas. I didn’t give a fuck about the jocks. I found a small island of friends who got me through to graduation and I’m still in touch with many of them.

I’m struggling right now to keep some kind of balance as I write this. Part of me feels like cataloging every single slight visited upon me like finding out that the girl I asked to the Junior prom got dissuaded by her friend after she accepted. Or the pie that got pushed in my face at the school talent show. This conflicts with the knowledge that I’m an adult and that the chemo happened in the past. I made a conscious decision not to follow the herd. What did I expect? It’s a fine line to tread but this works as a decent balance.

In 1979, the B-52s release their first album. Working at what passed for the school radio station (which consisted of speaker wire running from the Distributive Education classroom to the cafeteria) brought me in contact with one of the definitive albums of my generation. It blew me away. “Thank you jesus for something that’s not country rock,” I crowed. Putting stylus to vinyl, I began to evangelize. It’s not that I expected any conversions nor was I unaware of the probable outcome. As the DJ on duty, though, I exercised my right to play what I wanted and somewhat reveled in the backlash. My already low favorability numbers declined rapidly. Flash forward two years and I’m at the club where my now drinking-age classmates congregated. Like a moth to the flame, I felt compelled to check it out. Much to my surprise, I saw them all enthusiastically dancing to…Rock Lobster.

At the time, I seethed.  Were these same people who screamed at me for playing it two years ago professing their undying love for the B-52s? Were they fucking kidding?  Did I actually have to take shit for playing their favorite song first because I wasn’t one of the cool kids? Today, I know the answer is still yes but for different reasons. I understand the role of the outsider in a way I didn’t back then. The outsider gets it before everyone else does. That’s both a source of frustration and a source of pride. The outsider clears the path for everyone else. There’s no (intellectual) reason to feel annoyance or anger towards the people behind you. Outsiders rarely care about leading. They’re in it for their own curiosity. The people behind you don’t take the road less travelled by unless it’s previously paved. As outsiders we tramp down the overgrowth because there looks like something cool on the other side and this gets the path started. Once they see it, they may or may not follow it. Expecting them to thank you flies in the face of reason. In theory, it’s not done for the accolades but for out of our own drive to find something new.

Given this, why would I bother wanting to hang out with the incurious? To hear about their high paying stressful jobs, children and divorces? To admire their tanning salon skin and plastic surgeries? To watch them fight the natural aging process? The only compelling reason to go is to congratulate those who came out of the closet. It couldn’t have been easy to be gay in that place.

Because of Facebook, I’ve gotten to know some of my classmates better. Many of them friended me and just as quickly unfriended me which made me laugh. Others, though, made me (slightly) regret my “angry young man” persona because I like them immensely and wish we’d joined up in high school. In retrospect, I know that I stereotyped a lot of potential friends out of the mix. That’s kind of what your teens are all about.

There’s a case to be made that by writing off the reunion I’m still closing myself off. That’s probably true. But, as I said on the reunion Facebook page, I can sit in a corner and feel awkward just as easily at home.

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In Which SkullDUGGARy Is The Name Of The Game

June 10th, 2015 No comments

Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!
Isaiah 5:20

Always open with a joke, says conventional wisdom, and so I shall:

Q: What’s the difference between Josh Duggar and the right-wing extremist xtian perception of Mohammed?
A: Nothing! Both molest little girls!

Here’s a bonus joke – The Duggars will come out of this having learned something.

Boom! Suck it! No one writes comedy like I do! NO ONE!

But, cereally, folks! I had a vague understanding of the Duggar cult and Michelle Duggar’s vagina kept me awake at night screaming before I even knew who they were. I’ve never watched nor will ever watch their show.

If you’re just joining in, the Duggars had a reality TV show where…again, pure speculation because I don’t actually care…they travelled the country in The Mystery Machine exposing evolutionists as cranky old frauds in latex masks. Their show, Fifty Degrees of Fucked Up…err…19 Kids and Counting came to an ignominious end when it turned out Jim Bob (I shit you not, that’s his name) and Michelle were such shitty parents they couldn’t teach their son, Josh, not to finger his sisters.

I don’t hate Christians. I was raised Christian and left the church when I was 16 when it became apparent that “Christian” meant calling other kids “faggot”, stealing, drinking and in some cases grand larceny. Silly me, I actually took it seriously for awhile. But, unlike xtians, I don’t condemn the entire religion like they do with Muslims. Ironically, three of the people I went to high school with are ministers now. Two actually walk the walk. The other one (my best friend from high school) took a nose dive into the crazy pool, complaining about my cursing on Facebook, effectively calling me a baby killer and generally insulting my character. I put up with for awhile and then I started hitting back. And when I did that, he blocked me. Which is what Jesus would do.

Bill Hicks summed up xtians (fake Christians) perfectly:

These two rednecks came up to me after the show and said, “hey, buddy, we’re Christians and we don’t like what you said.” And I said, “oh, yeah? Then forgive me.”

That’s it in a nutshell. The actual Christian (as with the actual hero and soldier) feels no compunction to broadcast who they are. They don’t shy away from it but they don’t walk into a room carrying a cross and quoting scripture. I contracted at a company once. A lovely woman who worked there asked me if I’d work on her home computers and I agreed. Something seemed off at her house. I couldn’t put my finger on it until I saw the entire series of Left Behind books on her bookcase. At least she reads, I thought. Not once did she give any hint as to her religion nor did she evangelize. I admire that.

Not broadcasting your religion works on two levels.

One: You don’t come off like an asshole if you happen to meet someone of a different religion. Telling an atheist “I’ll pray for you,” works about as well as telling a Christian “hail Satan”.  It’s just not necessary. Period. Full stop. If you need to preach, become a minister. (BTW – I’ve been told the fastest way to become an atheist is to go to Divinity School.)

Two: You’re not setting yourself up for the kind of free-fall the Duggars are in now. Put another way – You don’t set yourself up as a pinnacle of “family values” who raised a child molester.

Frankly, I don’t know how Christianity survives. The Family Research Council where Josh “Gropey” Duggar used to work preaches a Santorum-like mixture of hate and hypocrisy. Tony “Not The Gay One” Perkins has Senator David “Dress Me Up In Diapers” Vitter on his program occasionally and calls him a “good man”. I’d understand “good baby” but “good man”? Why didn’t Tony “Not The Gay One” Perkins, who hates sin SO MUCH, not run against Vitter for his Senate seat?

I know this is all Dog Bites Man stuff but in the decade that I spent listening to xtian talk radio (extensively talked about on this blog) I heard the Isaiah quote over and over again with regards to pretty much any the heathen tried to do from make school lunches healthy to not blame all of Islam for 9/11.  It stuns me that anyone regardless of their religious bent could defend Josh Duggar. It defies logic.

Let’s end abruptly with some Lyle Lovett.

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[PS – I hope to be more coherent as I get back into the swing of this writing thing]

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