Thursday, November 04, 2004
Just a little message to...
This is just a little message to all those people that I have overheard these past couple of days of wanting to move to Canada or Costa Rica because of the Bush administration's deal with Satan that enabled them to win the election.
Quit acting like a bunch of pussies and do something about it here in your own damn country. If Clinton can get impeachment hearings for cum stains on a blue Gap dress, I'm sure the illegal war in Iraq and the constant threat of the Constitution going through the shredder stands for more than enough grounds for this President to get the same shit dealt.
Tom Delay and his ethics case- sounds some what similar to Whitewater to me and so on.
Also a message to the Democratic Party: I voted for and supported John Kerry, but I have been critical of him. We gave him the reins and no one said anything when Kerry heeled his horse. At the Democratic Campaign, your fucking Ronco commercial was more concerned with a 40 year old war and trying not to paint the current president with too harsh or negative phrases. What the fuck were y'all thinking? Also- why the fuck do we let Iowa choose our candidate. Fuck Iowa, they stuck us with Herman Munster after Dean let out a rebel yell. No senators in the presidential race please. There were plenty of viable options, Dean, Clark, Edwards for Pres. Bill Richardson, the Gov from Iowa or hell even Gephart for Veep.
Stew all y'all want, I'll be in the back shed sharpening up my Kerry-Edwards sign. Because I got an axe to grind. I say we hack into the PAX channel while "Touched By an Angel" is on and stream porn so that they get an FCC violation. I say we pirate Clear Channel radio stations and put a Crass Cd on repeat. I say thousands of homosexual couples should attend service at John Hague's church, the female contigent can pray for Bush and the male contigent for Dick.
I say since the Bush administration likes making a mockery out of us, we make a mockery out of them.
If any of these Bush supporters had some pattern of thought, may be they should read the new issue of Mother Jones and find out what soldiers are seeing doing and their response to the war. Maybe they should look at my metal black arm band that bares the name of a friend of a friend who died in combat at Iraq. Maybe they should all pull their heads out their asses and stop asking what smells funny?
It's your asshole stupid.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Quit acting like a bunch of pussies and do something about it here in your own damn country. If Clinton can get impeachment hearings for cum stains on a blue Gap dress, I'm sure the illegal war in Iraq and the constant threat of the Constitution going through the shredder stands for more than enough grounds for this President to get the same shit dealt.
Tom Delay and his ethics case- sounds some what similar to Whitewater to me and so on.
Also a message to the Democratic Party: I voted for and supported John Kerry, but I have been critical of him. We gave him the reins and no one said anything when Kerry heeled his horse. At the Democratic Campaign, your fucking Ronco commercial was more concerned with a 40 year old war and trying not to paint the current president with too harsh or negative phrases. What the fuck were y'all thinking? Also- why the fuck do we let Iowa choose our candidate. Fuck Iowa, they stuck us with Herman Munster after Dean let out a rebel yell. No senators in the presidential race please. There were plenty of viable options, Dean, Clark, Edwards for Pres. Bill Richardson, the Gov from Iowa or hell even Gephart for Veep.
Stew all y'all want, I'll be in the back shed sharpening up my Kerry-Edwards sign. Because I got an axe to grind. I say we hack into the PAX channel while "Touched By an Angel" is on and stream porn so that they get an FCC violation. I say we pirate Clear Channel radio stations and put a Crass Cd on repeat. I say thousands of homosexual couples should attend service at John Hague's church, the female contigent can pray for Bush and the male contigent for Dick.
I say since the Bush administration likes making a mockery out of us, we make a mockery out of them.
If any of these Bush supporters had some pattern of thought, may be they should read the new issue of Mother Jones and find out what soldiers are seeing doing and their response to the war. Maybe they should look at my metal black arm band that bares the name of a friend of a friend who died in combat at Iraq. Maybe they should all pull their heads out their asses and stop asking what smells funny?
It's your asshole stupid.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
United Stupid Assholes...
Vote for Bush
Here's an interesting fact- Did you know that there are currently 4,495,797 Stupid Assholes residing in the Lone Star state? This comes as quite a shock to me for Texas was once known as the "Friendly" state. However, it seems as though a substansial number of Big White Republican Truck owners have infiltrated my state with W stickers branded on their truck. These fuckers ride six feet off the ground in trucks that simply state their brand (primarily Ford) with a number right behind it (350).
My response to this whole election fiasco- that being the American public reelecting a tried and true dumb ass- is till yet processing. Today I woke up on a friend's couch after a raucous election party hosted by a group of Republicans idiots. Well they were a nice group, I'm just bitter.
I always put my self in these positions, I don't like being around people that think like me too often, because life gets boring always shaking my head yeah and preaching to the choir. So I generally hang out with those opposite of me either hoping one day they'll see the light and become human, or at least I can be the thorn in their side.
Needless to say as the election counts came in, I stood up on their table holding a roll of yellow caution tape proclaiming that I would have to qurantine the whole apartment for the fear of letting so many idiots run free on the streets. I said that it was my duty as an American to do this for my country. After everyone laughed, two larger guys picked me up and placed me inside a closet where they locked me in for two hours-opening it periodically to hand me drinks. But the fiasco didn't stop their on the way into the closet I managed to grab one of the guys cell phones where I then placed a many a 1-900 call, cause you know, they have all that money to spend. I have to get back at these one way or another for holding such political ideology. My own civil war I guess.
So what now? I am currently sharpening my Kerry/Edwards campaign sign into a fine angle. I think it'll come in handy as a new Bastille Day is upon us all. Ok so I jest, no true hard feelings, everything is back to the way it was Monday I guess. So with four more years in the White House there is definately one benefit, there's only one administration to blame as it continues its many many blunders.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Here's an interesting fact- Did you know that there are currently 4,495,797 Stupid Assholes residing in the Lone Star state? This comes as quite a shock to me for Texas was once known as the "Friendly" state. However, it seems as though a substansial number of Big White Republican Truck owners have infiltrated my state with W stickers branded on their truck. These fuckers ride six feet off the ground in trucks that simply state their brand (primarily Ford) with a number right behind it (350).
My response to this whole election fiasco- that being the American public reelecting a tried and true dumb ass- is till yet processing. Today I woke up on a friend's couch after a raucous election party hosted by a group of Republicans idiots. Well they were a nice group, I'm just bitter.
I always put my self in these positions, I don't like being around people that think like me too often, because life gets boring always shaking my head yeah and preaching to the choir. So I generally hang out with those opposite of me either hoping one day they'll see the light and become human, or at least I can be the thorn in their side.
Needless to say as the election counts came in, I stood up on their table holding a roll of yellow caution tape proclaiming that I would have to qurantine the whole apartment for the fear of letting so many idiots run free on the streets. I said that it was my duty as an American to do this for my country. After everyone laughed, two larger guys picked me up and placed me inside a closet where they locked me in for two hours-opening it periodically to hand me drinks. But the fiasco didn't stop their on the way into the closet I managed to grab one of the guys cell phones where I then placed a many a 1-900 call, cause you know, they have all that money to spend. I have to get back at these one way or another for holding such political ideology. My own civil war I guess.
So what now? I am currently sharpening my Kerry/Edwards campaign sign into a fine angle. I think it'll come in handy as a new Bastille Day is upon us all. Ok so I jest, no true hard feelings, everything is back to the way it was Monday I guess. So with four more years in the White House there is definately one benefit, there's only one administration to blame as it continues its many many blunders.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Part I: I, Neo-ruralist
Howdy all. I apologize for my long absence from the blogosphere, it's just that more time has been devoted to the study of the fundamentals of art as the precursor to writing for the Olmec Civilization than my pointing out the falacies of our current administration. My new fishing pole and the fact that Old Lady Stone (an eccentric redneck hippie from Staples, Texas) bought two riding horses has also played a large role into my absence from the computer screen.
Am I becoming a neo-ruralist, reverting to no phone, computer etc? Lord knows, however I wouldn't mind living off the grid for a while. As Stone pointed out to me, there's plenty of stocked cattle tanks around Staples (a real good one being near Kingsbury on Baker's ranch) that it'll only take about an hour and one can eat good for a week. The ideal seems romantic, so I try to live it out in spurts as much as possible- the idea of eating what I catch, busting balls on a horse, helping Stone tend her garden and watching her as she happily speaks to her three geese (which she has aptly named Thanks Giving, Christmas, and Easter) has given me some insight on my daily discourse. Right now at the rate things are going and aside from my friends, I like two things- first I like the idea of a neo-rural life style. To me it is the only true way one can set an example and live out there true ideals of a progressive lifestyle. Everything is provided for one as long as one can take care of it, and it is less likely that one would have to dip into their pockets and support a sprawl economy when one grows, catches, and finds their own food. The idea of this lifestyle is not to try persuade everyone to adapt to it, but simply live happily and play as little as possible into that suburban lifestyle element that helps promote the percieved necessity and disaster of sprawl.
Even in our urban centers the notion of a neo-ruralist life style is being played out by freegans, dumpster divers, community gardens, and so on. I consider it all an element of ruralism because it takes the attitude that one can provide for themselves with out helping the big chain stores etc. There are core elements of thishunter/gatherer and farmer/gardner spirit that seem to evoke everything that is opposite of what a modern city or suburb represents.
The second thing that I like right now is the place that I work, the Hall. With the hard work of my friend and boss and some fairly intersting characters behind the bar pulling the taps, we have turned a dwindling German singing society's organization from near dead to one of the hippest spots in San Antonio's downtown area. Though the hip factor has increased hours and stress for my boss, his work has benefitted the neighborhood in many ways. More people walking dropping in their literal neighborhood bar. Neighbors often call us thank us for the music we provide on the weekends, they like the fact that they can sit on their back porches and listen to every thing from a honky tonk,,jazz, rock and roll, or Oompah band. Young thirty something parents push strollers mix it up with the twenty sometings taking it in before hitting the art studios. We have the blue haired members themselves, and the local businesses have even been coming by to where we actually promote a system of exchange of service- you do this for us, we do this for you. And may be perhaps the best thing about his is that with the work of my boss and me, we are begining to see how our attitude and the way we live our life, with trust and respect, is beginning to rub off on some of those Republicans that come in. May be they won't vote for Kerry, but their tips are starting to get a lot more generous and they seem a lot less constipated, flustered, or what ever it is that makes them biologically different than my boos and me. My boss has this excellent theory about people on the right and left. He said those on the right were the kids that never shared their toys. They were the kids that teased you with it, stuck out their tongue and hinged their thumbs into their ear drums as they nanny nanny boo booed your lack of, or want of play. However these are the same kids that have no qualms about jumping into your toy box once the offer is availible.
How does this all tie in, I don't know- I'll right on this some more indepth, and I'll write on Stone, but I got more pressing matters that need to be thought out.
Part II Their Shit My Fan
Well, Wednesday Evening or Thursday A.M. depends how one looks at it I was arrested for suspect of DWI. Now I know I've been known to take in a few, but on this particular evening, two Fat Tires and a Budweiser is hardly cause for suspect, especially considering it was in the course of a four hour period where bar-b-que, fishing, horse riding and lunar eclipse watching was the order of the day. I was at a social party of mostly anthroplogy students who got together at a ranch to watch the lunar eclispe. On the way back and just two blocks from my apartment one of San Marcos' "finest" pulled me over for what yet I have no idea. Random sting stop I guess, in a college town it's done all the time. Well I told her I did drink a few beers after she asked, being honest but I guess I could have said no. I walked the line counted to 30 (using the one thousands) on one foot. She asked if I'd submit a breathlyzer test, I said no and slap went on the cuffs.
Hays County jail is colder than an eskimo's ass- the phone in our holding tank didn't work until 6:00 AM. I got there at a quarter to one in the morning and wasn't bailed out till 5:30 P.M. So I made the best of it, stayed up the whole time, gave all my food to the biggest guy (make an ally just in case I wasn't bonded and had to enter population (scary)) sat still for several hours and then just started to talk to everyone. I kind of learned the true meaning of justice. We've been spelling it wrong, it shold be "Just us" as in "just us rich folk that don't have to worry about crap like this because a bond is shit and you can kiss my lawyers ass." These systems are in such a way that there is no true equity in justice, the fines are all the same, but a bond and lawyer is a total different meaning to college kids with working class back grounds and of course the poverty stricken than it is for those with the dough. I was amazed of how truly fucked they got me. I'll get an attorney on Monday- not the best timing- rent bills etc, but everything will go well.
Yeah scary tell. Y'all have a Happy Halloween and hello Tyrone, write me at esoterroriffik@gmail.com so we can catch up. The crazed Yankee New Englander is still at Trinity University. We've recently trickled on the rocks and under the bridge, but we're still around for each other but she's cut the fringe benefits- so it's more like we're around for each other to drive each other crazy.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Howdy all. I apologize for my long absence from the blogosphere, it's just that more time has been devoted to the study of the fundamentals of art as the precursor to writing for the Olmec Civilization than my pointing out the falacies of our current administration. My new fishing pole and the fact that Old Lady Stone (an eccentric redneck hippie from Staples, Texas) bought two riding horses has also played a large role into my absence from the computer screen.
Am I becoming a neo-ruralist, reverting to no phone, computer etc? Lord knows, however I wouldn't mind living off the grid for a while. As Stone pointed out to me, there's plenty of stocked cattle tanks around Staples (a real good one being near Kingsbury on Baker's ranch) that it'll only take about an hour and one can eat good for a week. The ideal seems romantic, so I try to live it out in spurts as much as possible- the idea of eating what I catch, busting balls on a horse, helping Stone tend her garden and watching her as she happily speaks to her three geese (which she has aptly named Thanks Giving, Christmas, and Easter) has given me some insight on my daily discourse. Right now at the rate things are going and aside from my friends, I like two things- first I like the idea of a neo-rural life style. To me it is the only true way one can set an example and live out there true ideals of a progressive lifestyle. Everything is provided for one as long as one can take care of it, and it is less likely that one would have to dip into their pockets and support a sprawl economy when one grows, catches, and finds their own food. The idea of this lifestyle is not to try persuade everyone to adapt to it, but simply live happily and play as little as possible into that suburban lifestyle element that helps promote the percieved necessity and disaster of sprawl.
Even in our urban centers the notion of a neo-ruralist life style is being played out by freegans, dumpster divers, community gardens, and so on. I consider it all an element of ruralism because it takes the attitude that one can provide for themselves with out helping the big chain stores etc. There are core elements of thishunter/gatherer and farmer/gardner spirit that seem to evoke everything that is opposite of what a modern city or suburb represents.
The second thing that I like right now is the place that I work, the Hall. With the hard work of my friend and boss and some fairly intersting characters behind the bar pulling the taps, we have turned a dwindling German singing society's organization from near dead to one of the hippest spots in San Antonio's downtown area. Though the hip factor has increased hours and stress for my boss, his work has benefitted the neighborhood in many ways. More people walking dropping in their literal neighborhood bar. Neighbors often call us thank us for the music we provide on the weekends, they like the fact that they can sit on their back porches and listen to every thing from a honky tonk,,jazz, rock and roll, or Oompah band. Young thirty something parents push strollers mix it up with the twenty sometings taking it in before hitting the art studios. We have the blue haired members themselves, and the local businesses have even been coming by to where we actually promote a system of exchange of service- you do this for us, we do this for you. And may be perhaps the best thing about his is that with the work of my boss and me, we are begining to see how our attitude and the way we live our life, with trust and respect, is beginning to rub off on some of those Republicans that come in. May be they won't vote for Kerry, but their tips are starting to get a lot more generous and they seem a lot less constipated, flustered, or what ever it is that makes them biologically different than my boos and me. My boss has this excellent theory about people on the right and left. He said those on the right were the kids that never shared their toys. They were the kids that teased you with it, stuck out their tongue and hinged their thumbs into their ear drums as they nanny nanny boo booed your lack of, or want of play. However these are the same kids that have no qualms about jumping into your toy box once the offer is availible.
How does this all tie in, I don't know- I'll right on this some more indepth, and I'll write on Stone, but I got more pressing matters that need to be thought out.
Part II Their Shit My Fan
Well, Wednesday Evening or Thursday A.M. depends how one looks at it I was arrested for suspect of DWI. Now I know I've been known to take in a few, but on this particular evening, two Fat Tires and a Budweiser is hardly cause for suspect, especially considering it was in the course of a four hour period where bar-b-que, fishing, horse riding and lunar eclipse watching was the order of the day. I was at a social party of mostly anthroplogy students who got together at a ranch to watch the lunar eclispe. On the way back and just two blocks from my apartment one of San Marcos' "finest" pulled me over for what yet I have no idea. Random sting stop I guess, in a college town it's done all the time. Well I told her I did drink a few beers after she asked, being honest but I guess I could have said no. I walked the line counted to 30 (using the one thousands) on one foot. She asked if I'd submit a breathlyzer test, I said no and slap went on the cuffs.
Hays County jail is colder than an eskimo's ass- the phone in our holding tank didn't work until 6:00 AM. I got there at a quarter to one in the morning and wasn't bailed out till 5:30 P.M. So I made the best of it, stayed up the whole time, gave all my food to the biggest guy (make an ally just in case I wasn't bonded and had to enter population (scary)) sat still for several hours and then just started to talk to everyone. I kind of learned the true meaning of justice. We've been spelling it wrong, it shold be "Just us" as in "just us rich folk that don't have to worry about crap like this because a bond is shit and you can kiss my lawyers ass." These systems are in such a way that there is no true equity in justice, the fines are all the same, but a bond and lawyer is a total different meaning to college kids with working class back grounds and of course the poverty stricken than it is for those with the dough. I was amazed of how truly fucked they got me. I'll get an attorney on Monday- not the best timing- rent bills etc, but everything will go well.
Yeah scary tell. Y'all have a Happy Halloween and hello Tyrone, write me at esoterroriffik@gmail.com so we can catch up. The crazed Yankee New Englander is still at Trinity University. We've recently trickled on the rocks and under the bridge, but we're still around for each other but she's cut the fringe benefits- so it's more like we're around for each other to drive each other crazy.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Bear With Me Folks
It's Oktoberfest
For the last month I've been busy down at the beer garden preparing everything dealing with our Oktoberfest in San Antonio. So in between school and the little commute from San Marcos to San Antonio and all the book reading and homework and beer pouring and broom pushing and keg dragging and maintaining social circles- I got a new fishing pole which means I've basically said fuck the computer. Other than the random essay required to write for this or that Anthropology class, I've been ghost. No emails checked, no blogs posted, no media sources sourced. I think I almost given up, almost.
It all started some time in mid September, we were fresh off the Republican Convention, and with a few words like "freedom," "God," and "Uhmericuh" Bush managed to jump a few points ahead of Kerry in the polls and the media was glued to it. This was expected of course- candidates always get a boost in the polls after a convention, but like flies on shit the media hounded this and glued towards Kerry's percieved defeat. The CBS National Guard story broke, and then preceeded to break in half. For a while I stared at the cieling not getting out of bed- having dreams that Bush won four more years, and that this time the American people actually elected him because while watching the media words like "weak," "lack," and "flip-flop" was attributed to the percieved personality of Kerry. For the past month I let my hair grow long and greasy, my beard unkempt and in that dazed state one gets from staying up till a quarter to three listening to talking heads blaring simultaneously from both radio and TV, I couldn't even bare to brush my teeth, I simply swished around a swallow of Listerine orange mouth wash. I was a bewildered beaten Green soldier drafted to the Democratic caucus hammering yard signs, sticker bumping, registering voters, and preaching the Democratic platform in my college town. But the problem was I had no platform, so I had to tell people the reasons why I'm not voting for Bush. Curtailing the war on Iraq, I tried to bring the issues a little more closer to home. Cost of tuition increase, the cost of higher utility bills in a state that is suppose to be a producer of energy, their parents retirement fund basically vanished as a result of Enron (who of course had ties to the White House), and the probability of a draft.
One of the major barriers I find across the spectrum of the college campus is that for the most part, these kids don't struggle at all. The student surviving on fifty cents in the pocket, a daily meal of raman, and the thrown out vegetables behind the local grocery store is getting rarer and rarer. The cost of tuition and such is getting so high that most of the people attenting school use their tuition loans to pay off cell phone bills and put a down payment on the [insert any model] SUV with a cattle guard and rims. By this I mean colleges are widening the class gap, and for the most part only the wealthiest get to attend, using college as an excuse for four or so years of low interest loans. Thus college becomes a four year country club of student housing with more perks than the Pope's home at the Vatican.
Another trend I see is the suburbanization of college towns, the building of student housing that literally mirrors the type of starter home neighborhoods that newly wedded couples purchase. It's sick, the assimilation starts earlier and earlier. When one attends college, one is not suppose to live in anything that has a driveway and two car garage. When you're in college, bugs are supposed crawl over you as you plug in your hot plate to make toasted cheese sandwiches using that God awful American cheese that smells like baby sweat. Not these days, apartments have gyms and tanning salons, college students own speed boats and jet skis, and the students for the most part can give a shit about the war so long as we win.
Ask a random college student if he or she knows any one serving in Iraq or the military and they will say no. The high school I went to, just about every single guy I know my age joined some type of service, and there are about 25 I know personally serving in Iraq. Or course, I'm one of those rare students sans cattle guarded SUV, trailor hitch and jet ski intow. People tend to forget there are two Americas when only one is shown on TV. In the eighties and nineties we had shows like Roseanne to remind us of that other America. Collars blue, the bags say Wal-Mart, not Neimann-Marcus and that wedding ring is cubic zirconia. Now with the popularity of shows like Friends and Dawson Creek like soap operas filling the void, the average American looks to be doing pretty damn good with their J. Crew cardigans and Euro style coffee shops on every corner. Boy are my eyes itchy. Even the folk music of the American white working class has shifted focus from hard times with the boss (most likely a foreman) and wife to more spiritual themes that can be considered more or less Christian music. It's wool over the eyes, and big truck Republicans can feel more concerned about their family and their property and all those other messages about them selves that a tear kind of comes to their eyes as they barrel down the road in a big white truck listening to a song about some guy soaking his wifes feet, hugging his daughter, and throwing the baseball around with grandad after he gets off his nine to fiver. Yet another tough day down at the office.
If modern country music, or white pop with a twang, is trying to mirror the lives of its demographic, how about a theme on hitting the glass cieling at Wal-Mart and settling for cheap plastic crap. Country music has gone from hard truths to the Hollywood illusion. It's like watching the movies that came out during the Great Depression. If I'm ok, you're ok.
For the most part, the school I attend, Texas State University in San Marcos Texas, smack dab in the middle of Austin and San Antonio, is a hot bed for white houston and Dallas suburbanites with big truck Republican syndrome. They just love the 'Dubya, and the reason being is that they literrally have nothing to worry about. They have nothing to lose if George is reelected- as far as me, I'm scared shitless because I have no qualms about criticizing the president's crappy job as a leader. I could be labled a terrorist or something.
So for half a month I said fuck you computer, fuck you media and read, and fished and walked and drank coffee and tea and poured beer and pushed brooms and so on. People talked to me and I hardly listened, I was dazed. I couldn't think because it seemed everything wanted make my mind up for me. So I simply shut it off, TV, radio, television, newspaper, political talk etc.
Then came Thursday, the debates. Everyone down at the Beethoven were tuned in and I finally snapped out of it. There was Bush on the big screen, his face like a red round pepperoni, he looked like a slouched itchy heeled joke and Kerry like a president. I let loose with beer fueled speech, and neither candidate escaped my wrath. I cursed Kerry for doing literally nothing since the end of his convention, for back paddling and trying to make every one happy when he already has a solid base to work from. And I spit on Bush, said "he looks like a big 'ole pepperoni head." "Hard work," he said, it's going to take a lot of hard work. Well Senor Bush, in the Declaration of Independence one of our human rights given to us by the divine Providence is a right to the pursuit happiness. Let me tell you sir, I ain't finding much happiness in sending our young and able to some sand box so they can get blown apart by some guy who's request is, "U.S. leaves, U.S. doesn't get blown to shreds all over a Baghdad street corner." To me a pursuit of happiness doesn't involve hard work that pays off in flag draped coffins. Mr. President, you want to defeat the terrorists, let's start with some social intiatives in your own country.
So we all know that the biggest fear of what's left of Detroit (GM, Ford, etc) is public transportation, typically that of light rail, heavy rail and so on. Well, how about you include or encourage these companies to develop mass transit trains that run on electrcity, solar, etc or a composite of both. This way with the car companies working on such projects, they don't have to fear the loss of business from people choosing to commute by rail every where as oppose to using their car. People are still going to buy cars, they're gonna buy them to drive to the station any how. It just really sucks being stuck on I-35 between Austin and San Antonio all the time.
Using such transportation would cut down on the need of foreign oil, which means we buy less Middle Eastern oil which means we don't have to have such a strong presence there.
Just think if all that money used on Iraq went towards the investment of a better public transportation system, we'd have jobs out the wahoo. People in the private sector designing, building, and implementing said equipment, people in the public sector designing, building, and implementing routes for said idea. And the only complaints recieved would be about the growing pains of trying to reach such a goal as opposed to tearful parents and spouses recieving news of junior's missing limb. Folks, this ain't socialism, or communism, it's common sense. If we rely too heavily on our vehicles, then we rely too heavily on those nations in which certain individuals reside feel compelled to express them selves all over our formica counter tops. On the left hand side of the AYT I posted a ticker that ticks away the amount our tax money going to the war in Iraq. Imagine if that money was used to sustain our own nation and make our place a healthier more livable place as opposed to destroying another.
Part II A Message from Betty, Your Gal Friday
Well, it has happened, a larger private passenger vehicle has trumped The Hummer in size.
Goody.
The International Corporation has unveiled its newest pickup truck the International CXT, which is the largest pickup truck ever commercially built, at nearly twice the size of the Ford F-350 Super Duty pickup.
Why?
Well why not? If you can afford the thing and the fuel for its engine, which only gets seven miles to the gallon, I say go for it!
It is about time somebody came along to take all those salivating status hounds that sacrificed years of potential retirement income for their H2’s down a peg. I’m tickled to think about the withering humiliation those tight-waisted, balding businessmen who prowl haughtily around town in their Hummers will feel when they are out-classed by a larger vehicle in the mall parking lot.
I love to imagine the mentality of the potential owner of the CXT. The sorry status seekers who overextended their finances just to get their Hummers will have no choice but to back down from their self-aggrandizing vehicular thrones to make way for this new lord of the lanes who, by virtue of a fat bank account and this new truck, will be able to show the rest of us what socially insignificant worms we really are.
These CXT owners will prove their economic importance by cheerfully paying .25 a mile in fuel, and since petroleum is a finite resource, it is their right—no, their DUTY, to squander as much of it as possible. (I mean we wouldn’t want that gasoline stuff to last too far into the future—lest another generation have an opportunity to utilize its byproducts.)
Also, what better way to show the unwashed masses that a CXT owner is more worthy of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness than by driving a vehicle so large that if it were to collide with anything lesser on the road, it is virtually assured that it will inflict horrific, and very likely fatal injuries to the passengers of the smaller, inconsequential vehicle? Safety first, the CXT owner will say, defending his or her choice of urban tank. It is good to come out of an accident without a scratch, because when you get right down to brass tacks, with great power comes great responsibility, and if you’re powerful enough to afford to drive and maintain a CXT, you are responsible for keeping yourself alive long enough to enjoy it!
Scared yet? Worried about pollution, or having one of those things destroy you or your loved ones in an ugly, senseless highway crash? Depressed that you will never have the kind of money to afford such an impressive vehicle, and thus be doomed to a wretched existence of owning a punyFord F250, or forced to settle for an impotent Acura? Optimism above all, I say. The juggernaut of capitalism has a wonderful sense of humor. Just wait and see what fun it will be to watch the new owners of these sexy four-wheeled beasts as they try to navigate in parking lots, which were so inconveniently designed for normal sized cars and trucks. It’s funny enough to watch some bleached out Alamo Heights dowager playing bumper cars down on Broadway trying to get her Hummer or Escalade into a plaza parking space, but when it comes time to watching the owners of a new CXT trying to muscle their way into the post office parking lot or a Taco Cabana drive thru, it’s going to be a laugh riot every time! Just wait and see—from a safe distance, of course!
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
For the last month I've been busy down at the beer garden preparing everything dealing with our Oktoberfest in San Antonio. So in between school and the little commute from San Marcos to San Antonio and all the book reading and homework and beer pouring and broom pushing and keg dragging and maintaining social circles- I got a new fishing pole which means I've basically said fuck the computer. Other than the random essay required to write for this or that Anthropology class, I've been ghost. No emails checked, no blogs posted, no media sources sourced. I think I almost given up, almost.
It all started some time in mid September, we were fresh off the Republican Convention, and with a few words like "freedom," "God," and "Uhmericuh" Bush managed to jump a few points ahead of Kerry in the polls and the media was glued to it. This was expected of course- candidates always get a boost in the polls after a convention, but like flies on shit the media hounded this and glued towards Kerry's percieved defeat. The CBS National Guard story broke, and then preceeded to break in half. For a while I stared at the cieling not getting out of bed- having dreams that Bush won four more years, and that this time the American people actually elected him because while watching the media words like "weak," "lack," and "flip-flop" was attributed to the percieved personality of Kerry. For the past month I let my hair grow long and greasy, my beard unkempt and in that dazed state one gets from staying up till a quarter to three listening to talking heads blaring simultaneously from both radio and TV, I couldn't even bare to brush my teeth, I simply swished around a swallow of Listerine orange mouth wash. I was a bewildered beaten Green soldier drafted to the Democratic caucus hammering yard signs, sticker bumping, registering voters, and preaching the Democratic platform in my college town. But the problem was I had no platform, so I had to tell people the reasons why I'm not voting for Bush. Curtailing the war on Iraq, I tried to bring the issues a little more closer to home. Cost of tuition increase, the cost of higher utility bills in a state that is suppose to be a producer of energy, their parents retirement fund basically vanished as a result of Enron (who of course had ties to the White House), and the probability of a draft.
One of the major barriers I find across the spectrum of the college campus is that for the most part, these kids don't struggle at all. The student surviving on fifty cents in the pocket, a daily meal of raman, and the thrown out vegetables behind the local grocery store is getting rarer and rarer. The cost of tuition and such is getting so high that most of the people attenting school use their tuition loans to pay off cell phone bills and put a down payment on the [insert any model] SUV with a cattle guard and rims. By this I mean colleges are widening the class gap, and for the most part only the wealthiest get to attend, using college as an excuse for four or so years of low interest loans. Thus college becomes a four year country club of student housing with more perks than the Pope's home at the Vatican.
Another trend I see is the suburbanization of college towns, the building of student housing that literally mirrors the type of starter home neighborhoods that newly wedded couples purchase. It's sick, the assimilation starts earlier and earlier. When one attends college, one is not suppose to live in anything that has a driveway and two car garage. When you're in college, bugs are supposed crawl over you as you plug in your hot plate to make toasted cheese sandwiches using that God awful American cheese that smells like baby sweat. Not these days, apartments have gyms and tanning salons, college students own speed boats and jet skis, and the students for the most part can give a shit about the war so long as we win.
Ask a random college student if he or she knows any one serving in Iraq or the military and they will say no. The high school I went to, just about every single guy I know my age joined some type of service, and there are about 25 I know personally serving in Iraq. Or course, I'm one of those rare students sans cattle guarded SUV, trailor hitch and jet ski intow. People tend to forget there are two Americas when only one is shown on TV. In the eighties and nineties we had shows like Roseanne to remind us of that other America. Collars blue, the bags say Wal-Mart, not Neimann-Marcus and that wedding ring is cubic zirconia. Now with the popularity of shows like Friends and Dawson Creek like soap operas filling the void, the average American looks to be doing pretty damn good with their J. Crew cardigans and Euro style coffee shops on every corner. Boy are my eyes itchy. Even the folk music of the American white working class has shifted focus from hard times with the boss (most likely a foreman) and wife to more spiritual themes that can be considered more or less Christian music. It's wool over the eyes, and big truck Republicans can feel more concerned about their family and their property and all those other messages about them selves that a tear kind of comes to their eyes as they barrel down the road in a big white truck listening to a song about some guy soaking his wifes feet, hugging his daughter, and throwing the baseball around with grandad after he gets off his nine to fiver. Yet another tough day down at the office.
If modern country music, or white pop with a twang, is trying to mirror the lives of its demographic, how about a theme on hitting the glass cieling at Wal-Mart and settling for cheap plastic crap. Country music has gone from hard truths to the Hollywood illusion. It's like watching the movies that came out during the Great Depression. If I'm ok, you're ok.
For the most part, the school I attend, Texas State University in San Marcos Texas, smack dab in the middle of Austin and San Antonio, is a hot bed for white houston and Dallas suburbanites with big truck Republican syndrome. They just love the 'Dubya, and the reason being is that they literrally have nothing to worry about. They have nothing to lose if George is reelected- as far as me, I'm scared shitless because I have no qualms about criticizing the president's crappy job as a leader. I could be labled a terrorist or something.
So for half a month I said fuck you computer, fuck you media and read, and fished and walked and drank coffee and tea and poured beer and pushed brooms and so on. People talked to me and I hardly listened, I was dazed. I couldn't think because it seemed everything wanted make my mind up for me. So I simply shut it off, TV, radio, television, newspaper, political talk etc.
Then came Thursday, the debates. Everyone down at the Beethoven were tuned in and I finally snapped out of it. There was Bush on the big screen, his face like a red round pepperoni, he looked like a slouched itchy heeled joke and Kerry like a president. I let loose with beer fueled speech, and neither candidate escaped my wrath. I cursed Kerry for doing literally nothing since the end of his convention, for back paddling and trying to make every one happy when he already has a solid base to work from. And I spit on Bush, said "he looks like a big 'ole pepperoni head." "Hard work," he said, it's going to take a lot of hard work. Well Senor Bush, in the Declaration of Independence one of our human rights given to us by the divine Providence is a right to the pursuit happiness. Let me tell you sir, I ain't finding much happiness in sending our young and able to some sand box so they can get blown apart by some guy who's request is, "U.S. leaves, U.S. doesn't get blown to shreds all over a Baghdad street corner." To me a pursuit of happiness doesn't involve hard work that pays off in flag draped coffins. Mr. President, you want to defeat the terrorists, let's start with some social intiatives in your own country.
Let's start with transportation
So we all know that the biggest fear of what's left of Detroit (GM, Ford, etc) is public transportation, typically that of light rail, heavy rail and so on. Well, how about you include or encourage these companies to develop mass transit trains that run on electrcity, solar, etc or a composite of both. This way with the car companies working on such projects, they don't have to fear the loss of business from people choosing to commute by rail every where as oppose to using their car. People are still going to buy cars, they're gonna buy them to drive to the station any how. It just really sucks being stuck on I-35 between Austin and San Antonio all the time.
Using such transportation would cut down on the need of foreign oil, which means we buy less Middle Eastern oil which means we don't have to have such a strong presence there.
Just think if all that money used on Iraq went towards the investment of a better public transportation system, we'd have jobs out the wahoo. People in the private sector designing, building, and implementing said equipment, people in the public sector designing, building, and implementing routes for said idea. And the only complaints recieved would be about the growing pains of trying to reach such a goal as opposed to tearful parents and spouses recieving news of junior's missing limb. Folks, this ain't socialism, or communism, it's common sense. If we rely too heavily on our vehicles, then we rely too heavily on those nations in which certain individuals reside feel compelled to express them selves all over our formica counter tops. On the left hand side of the AYT I posted a ticker that ticks away the amount our tax money going to the war in Iraq. Imagine if that money was used to sustain our own nation and make our place a healthier more livable place as opposed to destroying another.
Part II A Message from Betty, Your Gal Friday
Humble Observations on Massive Auto Eroticism
(Black n’ Huge)
By
Betty, Your Gal Friday
Well, it has happened, a larger private passenger vehicle has trumped The Hummer in size.
Goody.
The International Corporation has unveiled its newest pickup truck the International CXT, which is the largest pickup truck ever commercially built, at nearly twice the size of the Ford F-350 Super Duty pickup.
Why?
Well why not? If you can afford the thing and the fuel for its engine, which only gets seven miles to the gallon, I say go for it!
It is about time somebody came along to take all those salivating status hounds that sacrificed years of potential retirement income for their H2’s down a peg. I’m tickled to think about the withering humiliation those tight-waisted, balding businessmen who prowl haughtily around town in their Hummers will feel when they are out-classed by a larger vehicle in the mall parking lot.
I love to imagine the mentality of the potential owner of the CXT. The sorry status seekers who overextended their finances just to get their Hummers will have no choice but to back down from their self-aggrandizing vehicular thrones to make way for this new lord of the lanes who, by virtue of a fat bank account and this new truck, will be able to show the rest of us what socially insignificant worms we really are.
These CXT owners will prove their economic importance by cheerfully paying .25 a mile in fuel, and since petroleum is a finite resource, it is their right—no, their DUTY, to squander as much of it as possible. (I mean we wouldn’t want that gasoline stuff to last too far into the future—lest another generation have an opportunity to utilize its byproducts.)
Also, what better way to show the unwashed masses that a CXT owner is more worthy of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness than by driving a vehicle so large that if it were to collide with anything lesser on the road, it is virtually assured that it will inflict horrific, and very likely fatal injuries to the passengers of the smaller, inconsequential vehicle? Safety first, the CXT owner will say, defending his or her choice of urban tank. It is good to come out of an accident without a scratch, because when you get right down to brass tacks, with great power comes great responsibility, and if you’re powerful enough to afford to drive and maintain a CXT, you are responsible for keeping yourself alive long enough to enjoy it!
Scared yet? Worried about pollution, or having one of those things destroy you or your loved ones in an ugly, senseless highway crash? Depressed that you will never have the kind of money to afford such an impressive vehicle, and thus be doomed to a wretched existence of owning a punyFord F250, or forced to settle for an impotent Acura? Optimism above all, I say. The juggernaut of capitalism has a wonderful sense of humor. Just wait and see what fun it will be to watch the new owners of these sexy four-wheeled beasts as they try to navigate in parking lots, which were so inconveniently designed for normal sized cars and trucks. It’s funny enough to watch some bleached out Alamo Heights dowager playing bumper cars down on Broadway trying to get her Hummer or Escalade into a plaza parking space, but when it comes time to watching the owners of a new CXT trying to muscle their way into the post office parking lot or a Taco Cabana drive thru, it’s going to be a laugh riot every time! Just wait and see—from a safe distance, of course!
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Friday, September 10, 2004
Honky Tonk Siesta
Part I An Open Letter to Idiots Dept.
Folks between school and work and what ever in betweens there are, I'm dog tired. But not tired enough. I was going to write this long thing about the RNC, but other than the Zell Miller speech, the whole damn thing was boring. Just as boring as the DNC. Friggin' RONCO commercials. Clap and smile. And the way they covered protesters, that pist me off because that's all they did. They covered the protesters, but not what they were protesting. Don't you love the freedom of limited corporate press? And why do both parties feel so God damn compelled to speek on stem cell research? Was I watching the fucking Discovery Channel or something? I don't have time to think about neutrons, fetal tissues, and cellular molecular whatever it takes to make the pharmaceutical companies rich. Hey ass holes, I don't have health care! I can't afford school! I'm graduating in December and I'm up to my ears in debt with no prospective jobs waiting ahead. Heir Bush the Dub'ya, you want to talk about an owner ship class?! Well how about that accordion I owned and had to hawk so I could pay the $300 utility bill and have enough gas money for a month because the student worker jobs that came with my financial aid paid jack shit! So how do I become part of the ownership class? I buy a bag of peanuts, so I own them there for it makes me equal to the billionaire who owns a yacht because we both own something? All right Wal-Mart America- that double-wide you own in Toadsuck, Ark. makes you the equal to Steve Forbes, cause you're an owner and so is he. Part of that elite ownership class. Yeah Bush, way to pull the wool over our eyes.
It doesn't get any easier for us poor folk. TXU Texas' largest electric utility service is going to raise rates based on credit history. Now I'm glad I don't live in the Dallas area, but apparantly you get double penalized if you pay your bills late or are trying to clear up a little debt. Example, failure to pay the Visa Card on time may mean a raise in your utility rates. Well, have these people considered that when times get tight, some times people forgo one bill to pay another? I can think of several times of paying a bill late so I could cover rent and utilities. This is just a plain example of rewarding the rich and penalizing the poor. It happens all the time, the rich get lower interest rates, they actually are able to have bank accounts where they can cash a check with out a % fee taken out. Poor people can't cash a personal check because they have to rely on cash checking places that deal in mostly high circulation checks from a job etc. It's horrible. Why isn't John Kerry adressing this? If Bush is so compassionate why isn't he talking about this? These are issues that truly effects us all. We're gonna have a ton of people sitting in the dark because on top of their bills, they won't be able to afford their utilities because they're deemed a "risk." Well you know who makes up a majority of these "risks"? students and the elderly. It's those people between ages of 18-27 trying to get their feet on the ground, and those people between 65+ waiting to get their feet in the ground.
People want to bring up talking points of race problems and so on. Really folks, there's no real problem with race, it's simply horse blinders erected at hand to block out the true problem, class conflict. The widening of the haves and the haven'ts is wider than a Dallas Cowgal's split. It is not just ethnic minorities feeling the wrath of Bush, but also another element, the poor white folk both urban and rural who for the most part are easily manipulated by NASCAR, Wal-Mart, and t-shirts with wolves or motorcycles, sometimes both screened on them. Some one needs to tell these people that they need dental care more than they need Jesus at the moment. That a cashier at the local Wal-Mart is not making it. That no, Toby Keith does not count as actual music. The problem is that these are the people most likely to vote for Bush because they don't like the idea of "them homos marryin' all over each other like that. It's uh sin."
Mean while poor dumb white America with all your cavities and sub-par reading level and crappy jobs, your friend in the White House, whose gonna make darn sure to git rid of dem homos so they don't marry and copulate and spawn more homos, well your friend in the White House has a friend in every utility company across this here great country who will more than likely follow the lead of TXU and raise your rates cause your dumb and poor. Have fun sitting in the dark trying to read you "End Times" series.
So I was working on a RNC thing, was going to write about Zell Miller, but by the time I got on the blogger and was going to write, every blogger in the world used "Zell No!," "Burn in Zell!," "What the Zell?!" "To Zell in a Hand Basket" "Like a Bat Out of Zell" and my favorite "Zell You Fucking Ass Hole Non Democrat Democrat Who Simply Calls Himself a Democrat so You Can be an Authority Figure On the Over Liberalization of the Democratic Party and Sell Books Appear on Rush, and Get your Ass Reamed by the RNC, Yes I Challenge Your Phony Ass to a Duel!"
With Bush slightly a head in the polls, and John Kerry stammering like a fucking idiot to old folks and Florida getting slammed by hurricaine after hurricaine, I needed a little honky tonk siesta this week. Moday went to the Triple Crown to see my old friend Scott Biram play with Hank III's guitarist, Joe Buck Yourself. If you haven't heard Scott, go to his web site and look for a link to his live radio show. This guy takes it back to about seven or so decades, singing about how "Roosevelts in the White House now McKinley's gon'." Wishful thinking. Joe Buck Your Self and Scott Biram are on the Joe Buck Yourself vs Scott Biram Tour and are appearing just about everywhere in the U.S. So check their sites for a show near you. Also I think they are both about to jump on the Rev. Horton Heat Tour.
Wednesday I took another siesta and saw the McKay Brothers . These guys hail from Bandera, Tx and are one of the best honky tonk conjunto bands in Texas. One of the few who play "Texas Tear Drops" and then follow into a drunken corrido. I had to see them to get some booking info for the place I work at, so a little work and pleasure go hand in hand.
It's nice to know that when politics piss me off, I can always walk three blocks to the Triple Crown to hear some of the real deal.
This is all from me, now a message from Betty, Your Gal Friday.
PART II “I had a dream” A soulful confession by Betty, Your Gal Friday
The dream happened again. It was the dream where I really, really like George W. Bush.
The first time I had the dream was last year. George, Laura and I were the best of friends, sitting on a porch swing, sipping iced tea, and really laughing it up. I was truly disturbed when I woke up. Disturbed like the “out of money at in the supermarket line” dream, or the “out in public in a bathing suit several-times-too-small” dream.
The second time I dreamed of my great, soulful friendship with our President, we were in an office, and I was very gently prodding him to confess his real motivation behind the Iraq war. In the dream, he was dodgy, not in the “for purposes of national security” manner, but in an embarrassed, kindergartener-ate-the-last-cookie sort of way.
In last night’s dream, I was in a huge convention where I was to meet my coworkers, and we were going to wear orange to signify that in our field of work, John Kerry really is the better man for the job, being that our office sees too many people without jobs to justify four more years of the current presidency. However, I was not wearing orange, I was wearing black, and on my way through a turnstile, I was accosted by a young lady who was livid at my choice of wardrobe. Angry at the delay, I shot back “Four More Years!” to her, and began defending President Bush on the basis that “he’s so nice.”
When I woke up, I was still angry at the imaginary young woman, who had shouted poverty statistics at my back as I stalked away in the dream.
I think there is a deep element of wistful thinking in these dreams. Though the President looks friendly, and seems like a really nice guy, I know that even in his college years, he probably wouldn’t have given me the time of day unless he was drunk and thought that my breasts would make a good pillow. While I am not by any conventional standard ugly, and thus only attractive to drunks, I am middle class, and by that standard alone, George W. Bush would not and will never consider me to be worth a squirt of urine, let alone a minute of his time.
In his defense, he was born rich, and rich people have trouble in the friend department. Being rich alone does not make one an insta-asshole, but it does keep a person on his or her guard. It must be difficult to have to gauge each and every personal exchange against a litmus test of “What does this person want out of me?” It must be painful live a life worried that every friendly word or gesture is done not out of regard for you, but out of regard for your money. As such, the rich tend to stick with other people of money, and by doing so, cut most ties to the realm of the middle class, and the potential for befriending such individuals.
If I ever were to meet George W. Bush, I would to give him the benefit of the doubt that he is really a nice guy. I don’t want anything from him, because even as the President of the United States, there is nothing specific that he alone could give me, except for friendship. I say this with confidence, because while he has incredible influence, I don’t need it. While he has powerful and vast connections, they really aren’t useful to me, or transferable of equal value on any scale. He doesn’t even have a record of real success to offer, only a record of impressive-sounding program names that don’t even really describe their function, and in the end seem to take much more from me and my kind than they give.
So in the end, as he stands in the convention hall asking us little people out there for our support, he is placing the entirety of his platform on whether or not the American people think of him as our friend. In my dreams, I guess I do think of him as my friend. But when I wake up, I wonder, would I really want to be his friend?
Would I really be friends with someone so dreadfully concerned about two queers exchanging vows, or preventing a woman’s doctor from suggesting the termination of a severely damaged fetus, or confiscating the one-inch screwdriver from a passenger’s eyeglass repair kit as a tried-and-true method to “keep us safe”? Do I befriend someone who thinks that poking at the hornets nest in the Middle East offers us more protection than engaging that “loathsome pigmy” that is threatening to start a nuclear program in North Korea, or crushing the terrorist-camp-supporting band of thugs just itching to get back into power in Afghanistan? Would my friend tax future generations for my scant middle class tax cut while knowing that the largest corporations in the Nation annually shirk their duties to pay taxes for the goods, services, and land they use? Do I befriend someone that expects my PTA to pony up its fundraiser money to pay half of a good teacher’s salary (so this teacher can support his newborn twins while his wife is in Iraq) all the while he asks Congress for billions of dollars to pour into Iraq to be funneled away and mismanaged in the name of sovereignty?
Maybe these friend-dreams are just my way of dealing with my frustration and sadness that someone in Washington is not my friend, and really doesn’t want me to be his friend.
Just his follower.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Folks between school and work and what ever in betweens there are, I'm dog tired. But not tired enough. I was going to write this long thing about the RNC, but other than the Zell Miller speech, the whole damn thing was boring. Just as boring as the DNC. Friggin' RONCO commercials. Clap and smile. And the way they covered protesters, that pist me off because that's all they did. They covered the protesters, but not what they were protesting. Don't you love the freedom of limited corporate press? And why do both parties feel so God damn compelled to speek on stem cell research? Was I watching the fucking Discovery Channel or something? I don't have time to think about neutrons, fetal tissues, and cellular molecular whatever it takes to make the pharmaceutical companies rich. Hey ass holes, I don't have health care! I can't afford school! I'm graduating in December and I'm up to my ears in debt with no prospective jobs waiting ahead. Heir Bush the Dub'ya, you want to talk about an owner ship class?! Well how about that accordion I owned and had to hawk so I could pay the $300 utility bill and have enough gas money for a month because the student worker jobs that came with my financial aid paid jack shit! So how do I become part of the ownership class? I buy a bag of peanuts, so I own them there for it makes me equal to the billionaire who owns a yacht because we both own something? All right Wal-Mart America- that double-wide you own in Toadsuck, Ark. makes you the equal to Steve Forbes, cause you're an owner and so is he. Part of that elite ownership class. Yeah Bush, way to pull the wool over our eyes.
It doesn't get any easier for us poor folk. TXU Texas' largest electric utility service is going to raise rates based on credit history. Now I'm glad I don't live in the Dallas area, but apparantly you get double penalized if you pay your bills late or are trying to clear up a little debt. Example, failure to pay the Visa Card on time may mean a raise in your utility rates. Well, have these people considered that when times get tight, some times people forgo one bill to pay another? I can think of several times of paying a bill late so I could cover rent and utilities. This is just a plain example of rewarding the rich and penalizing the poor. It happens all the time, the rich get lower interest rates, they actually are able to have bank accounts where they can cash a check with out a % fee taken out. Poor people can't cash a personal check because they have to rely on cash checking places that deal in mostly high circulation checks from a job etc. It's horrible. Why isn't John Kerry adressing this? If Bush is so compassionate why isn't he talking about this? These are issues that truly effects us all. We're gonna have a ton of people sitting in the dark because on top of their bills, they won't be able to afford their utilities because they're deemed a "risk." Well you know who makes up a majority of these "risks"? students and the elderly. It's those people between ages of 18-27 trying to get their feet on the ground, and those people between 65+ waiting to get their feet in the ground.
People want to bring up talking points of race problems and so on. Really folks, there's no real problem with race, it's simply horse blinders erected at hand to block out the true problem, class conflict. The widening of the haves and the haven'ts is wider than a Dallas Cowgal's split. It is not just ethnic minorities feeling the wrath of Bush, but also another element, the poor white folk both urban and rural who for the most part are easily manipulated by NASCAR, Wal-Mart, and t-shirts with wolves or motorcycles, sometimes both screened on them. Some one needs to tell these people that they need dental care more than they need Jesus at the moment. That a cashier at the local Wal-Mart is not making it. That no, Toby Keith does not count as actual music. The problem is that these are the people most likely to vote for Bush because they don't like the idea of "them homos marryin' all over each other like that. It's uh sin."
Mean while poor dumb white America with all your cavities and sub-par reading level and crappy jobs, your friend in the White House, whose gonna make darn sure to git rid of dem homos so they don't marry and copulate and spawn more homos, well your friend in the White House has a friend in every utility company across this here great country who will more than likely follow the lead of TXU and raise your rates cause your dumb and poor. Have fun sitting in the dark trying to read you "End Times" series.
So I was working on a RNC thing, was going to write about Zell Miller, but by the time I got on the blogger and was going to write, every blogger in the world used "Zell No!," "Burn in Zell!," "What the Zell?!" "To Zell in a Hand Basket" "Like a Bat Out of Zell" and my favorite "Zell You Fucking Ass Hole Non Democrat Democrat Who Simply Calls Himself a Democrat so You Can be an Authority Figure On the Over Liberalization of the Democratic Party and Sell Books Appear on Rush, and Get your Ass Reamed by the RNC, Yes I Challenge Your Phony Ass to a Duel!"
With Bush slightly a head in the polls, and John Kerry stammering like a fucking idiot to old folks and Florida getting slammed by hurricaine after hurricaine, I needed a little honky tonk siesta this week. Moday went to the Triple Crown to see my old friend Scott Biram play with Hank III's guitarist, Joe Buck Yourself. If you haven't heard Scott, go to his web site and look for a link to his live radio show. This guy takes it back to about seven or so decades, singing about how "Roosevelts in the White House now McKinley's gon'." Wishful thinking. Joe Buck Your Self and Scott Biram are on the Joe Buck Yourself vs Scott Biram Tour and are appearing just about everywhere in the U.S. So check their sites for a show near you. Also I think they are both about to jump on the Rev. Horton Heat Tour.
Wednesday I took another siesta and saw the McKay Brothers . These guys hail from Bandera, Tx and are one of the best honky tonk conjunto bands in Texas. One of the few who play "Texas Tear Drops" and then follow into a drunken corrido. I had to see them to get some booking info for the place I work at, so a little work and pleasure go hand in hand.
It's nice to know that when politics piss me off, I can always walk three blocks to the Triple Crown to hear some of the real deal.
This is all from me, now a message from Betty, Your Gal Friday.
PART II “I had a dream” A soulful confession by Betty, Your Gal Friday
The dream happened again. It was the dream where I really, really like George W. Bush.
The first time I had the dream was last year. George, Laura and I were the best of friends, sitting on a porch swing, sipping iced tea, and really laughing it up. I was truly disturbed when I woke up. Disturbed like the “out of money at in the supermarket line” dream, or the “out in public in a bathing suit several-times-too-small” dream.
The second time I dreamed of my great, soulful friendship with our President, we were in an office, and I was very gently prodding him to confess his real motivation behind the Iraq war. In the dream, he was dodgy, not in the “for purposes of national security” manner, but in an embarrassed, kindergartener-ate-the-last-cookie sort of way.
In last night’s dream, I was in a huge convention where I was to meet my coworkers, and we were going to wear orange to signify that in our field of work, John Kerry really is the better man for the job, being that our office sees too many people without jobs to justify four more years of the current presidency. However, I was not wearing orange, I was wearing black, and on my way through a turnstile, I was accosted by a young lady who was livid at my choice of wardrobe. Angry at the delay, I shot back “Four More Years!” to her, and began defending President Bush on the basis that “he’s so nice.”
When I woke up, I was still angry at the imaginary young woman, who had shouted poverty statistics at my back as I stalked away in the dream.
I think there is a deep element of wistful thinking in these dreams. Though the President looks friendly, and seems like a really nice guy, I know that even in his college years, he probably wouldn’t have given me the time of day unless he was drunk and thought that my breasts would make a good pillow. While I am not by any conventional standard ugly, and thus only attractive to drunks, I am middle class, and by that standard alone, George W. Bush would not and will never consider me to be worth a squirt of urine, let alone a minute of his time.
In his defense, he was born rich, and rich people have trouble in the friend department. Being rich alone does not make one an insta-asshole, but it does keep a person on his or her guard. It must be difficult to have to gauge each and every personal exchange against a litmus test of “What does this person want out of me?” It must be painful live a life worried that every friendly word or gesture is done not out of regard for you, but out of regard for your money. As such, the rich tend to stick with other people of money, and by doing so, cut most ties to the realm of the middle class, and the potential for befriending such individuals.
If I ever were to meet George W. Bush, I would to give him the benefit of the doubt that he is really a nice guy. I don’t want anything from him, because even as the President of the United States, there is nothing specific that he alone could give me, except for friendship. I say this with confidence, because while he has incredible influence, I don’t need it. While he has powerful and vast connections, they really aren’t useful to me, or transferable of equal value on any scale. He doesn’t even have a record of real success to offer, only a record of impressive-sounding program names that don’t even really describe their function, and in the end seem to take much more from me and my kind than they give.
So in the end, as he stands in the convention hall asking us little people out there for our support, he is placing the entirety of his platform on whether or not the American people think of him as our friend. In my dreams, I guess I do think of him as my friend. But when I wake up, I wonder, would I really want to be his friend?
Would I really be friends with someone so dreadfully concerned about two queers exchanging vows, or preventing a woman’s doctor from suggesting the termination of a severely damaged fetus, or confiscating the one-inch screwdriver from a passenger’s eyeglass repair kit as a tried-and-true method to “keep us safe”? Do I befriend someone who thinks that poking at the hornets nest in the Middle East offers us more protection than engaging that “loathsome pigmy” that is threatening to start a nuclear program in North Korea, or crushing the terrorist-camp-supporting band of thugs just itching to get back into power in Afghanistan? Would my friend tax future generations for my scant middle class tax cut while knowing that the largest corporations in the Nation annually shirk their duties to pay taxes for the goods, services, and land they use? Do I befriend someone that expects my PTA to pony up its fundraiser money to pay half of a good teacher’s salary (so this teacher can support his newborn twins while his wife is in Iraq) all the while he asks Congress for billions of dollars to pour into Iraq to be funneled away and mismanaged in the name of sovereignty?
Maybe these friend-dreams are just my way of dealing with my frustration and sadness that someone in Washington is not my friend, and really doesn’t want me to be his friend.
Just his follower.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Betty, Your Gal Friday
From the Editor
Well I haven't published anyting in a while, actually, this past weekend I published a rather long piece, but something happened to the blogger thing and poof it was gone. Rats! Any how, I've been watching the Republican National Convention, well some of it, and wow it's fucking boring. Just as boring as the other, a week long infomercial, like Betty, Your Gal Friday, says, "It's like watching a damn Ronco commercial." One of the corniest things I've seen so far is the female "reporters" walking around the convention with RNC taped over their mics talking to old fogey vets asking them what the best thing Dub'ya did for vets since he's been in the White House. First of all, if you're gonna ask a vet a question, don't ask a vet who looks like he could be in a Centrum Silver commercial and on the weekends is living it up on his yacht getting blow jobs from one of the random call girls in his rolodex. Go for the gold, I want to here about the vet who actually uses the VA hospital, not just the base golf course. I was expecting the retired vet to say how Bush has done much for vets, such as taking care of that challenging tree line on hole 9 at the Lackland AFB Golf Course.
"Bush personally got out there and chainsawed that damn pecan grove, now my games improved by six strokes."
Schools started, slated to graduated this December and it's off to god knows where. Perhaps the Peace Corps to spread smiles to little kids with dysentary. Any how I would like to introduce a friend of mine, Betty, Your Friday. Betty will be submitting me topics from time to time for me to publish on this here site. Politically, like most of us, she's off the map. Yeah she's a liberal, but she gots some strong libertarian tendencies as well. She'll hit issues like international diplomacy, feminism, various cultural and societal aspects pertaining to the ilk of D&D; enthusiasts and Rush fans. Yikes! Jeezus, I almost want to find a far right off the wall Christian fanatic to write for this site as well just for chuckles. The other day flipping through channels, I saw that TBN had a sermon entitled "Keep Your Pants On." In it the preacher gave a sermon where "we," the congregation, got to choose if an abortion was exceptable or not. The first example given was of a poor family who had 14 children and a fifteenth was on the way. This family couldn't afford to eat let alone feed another mouth. Would you get an abortion? the congregation says "No." "Well," the preacher says, "if you would have aborted that baby, you would have aborted John Wesley, founder of the Methodist Church." Well, I'll be damned. Second scenarion was of a family that gave birth to a blind child, a deaf child and a mute child, and a fourth was on the way. "Would you abort this baby for fear of another genetic effect?" "No." "If you would have aborted that baby, you would have aborted Beethoven." Hmmm. Oh and last but not least. "A teenager is preganant, and she has to leave, she goes to church every day, but if people find out she is preggers, people will talk, her husband is not even the father of the baby but has chosen to stick by her side. Would you abort that baby?" "No." "That baby was Hitler, who killed the heathen Jews Amen." Ok really it was Jesus, but the guy said Mary went to church every day, that's funny- there was Christianity before Christ was born? Some of these Evangelical (not all) but some have a way of misconstruing information so badly that it is no wonder we have millions of people out there that are dumber than my hat. Like the Creationists who believe the devil put dinosaur bones on earth to fool us. Or those people who read those conversations between Socrates and Jesus. It's scary, and no matter where you live, Bible Belt, Rust Belt, Bread Basket, Big Apple, Windy City, or the Golden Gate, they are there, every where. Enough of this now for Betty, Your Gal Friday,
Betty, Your Gal Friday
Why George, my boy, you called Kim Jong Il a “loathsome pigmy” a few years back and didn’t let your press office push it as positive PR?! Why the heck not?
When I read article “N.Korea Hurls Abuse at Bush, Calls Him Human Trash” by Jack Kim, posted Tue Aug 24, 2004 07:59 AM ET at www.reuters.com, I thought it was a hoot! Heck, I’m still chuckling about that one!
Dear Mr. Kim, Mr. Il, my fellow fan of animated ducks, it is one thing to call President Bush “a political idiot”, but when you call him “human trash” I have to say, you’re on pretty shaky ground.
As an average American living under President Bush’s administration, at least my pets are my pets for the sake of being pets, and not just kept around as a potential food supply! And while President Bush hasn’t come across as an adept leader, millions of Americans will still be able to sear a slab marbled beef across a grill this coming Labor Day! Anybody can find real, fair and balanced news if he or she looks hard enough for it, and best of all, we haven’t had to resort to cannibalism yet! (J.Dahmer jokes aside, you knuckleheads!)
Mr. Il, President Kim—YOU CAN’T BACK UP A SIMILAR CLAIM ABOUT NORTH KOREA!
Readers, I have to tell you that I really dig Korea. I say Korea, not North or South Korea, because it’s only a matter of time before the North finds a way to tell Kim Jong Il and his confederacy of neurotic-sycophants to shove it ala-Bastille-style, and the two states reunite. At last, Korea will become a kick-ass competitor to Japan, and millions of people can finally work on healing the scars of the past century’s strife.
Believe me, I’m not an expert on Korea. I became truly interested in the country on the basis of watching Korean cinema, so I’m probably wrong--but still convinced--that any nation responsible for “My Wife is Gangster” or “Palwolui Christmas” is worth wishing the very best of luck to.
So for now, as our two national leaders with way more power than any of us poor saps combined will ever have go “Nanny Nah-Nah” across the global playground at one another, I’ll just sit back, stockpile some peanut butter, H2O and bullets, and wait to see if our Man with the Plan (sort of) from Crawford will take this latest insult laying face-down in his kim chee.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Well I haven't published anyting in a while, actually, this past weekend I published a rather long piece, but something happened to the blogger thing and poof it was gone. Rats! Any how, I've been watching the Republican National Convention, well some of it, and wow it's fucking boring. Just as boring as the other, a week long infomercial, like Betty, Your Gal Friday, says, "It's like watching a damn Ronco commercial." One of the corniest things I've seen so far is the female "reporters" walking around the convention with RNC taped over their mics talking to old fogey vets asking them what the best thing Dub'ya did for vets since he's been in the White House. First of all, if you're gonna ask a vet a question, don't ask a vet who looks like he could be in a Centrum Silver commercial and on the weekends is living it up on his yacht getting blow jobs from one of the random call girls in his rolodex. Go for the gold, I want to here about the vet who actually uses the VA hospital, not just the base golf course. I was expecting the retired vet to say how Bush has done much for vets, such as taking care of that challenging tree line on hole 9 at the Lackland AFB Golf Course.
"Bush personally got out there and chainsawed that damn pecan grove, now my games improved by six strokes."
Schools started, slated to graduated this December and it's off to god knows where. Perhaps the Peace Corps to spread smiles to little kids with dysentary. Any how I would like to introduce a friend of mine, Betty, Your Friday. Betty will be submitting me topics from time to time for me to publish on this here site. Politically, like most of us, she's off the map. Yeah she's a liberal, but she gots some strong libertarian tendencies as well. She'll hit issues like international diplomacy, feminism, various cultural and societal aspects pertaining to the ilk of D&D; enthusiasts and Rush fans. Yikes! Jeezus, I almost want to find a far right off the wall Christian fanatic to write for this site as well just for chuckles. The other day flipping through channels, I saw that TBN had a sermon entitled "Keep Your Pants On." In it the preacher gave a sermon where "we," the congregation, got to choose if an abortion was exceptable or not. The first example given was of a poor family who had 14 children and a fifteenth was on the way. This family couldn't afford to eat let alone feed another mouth. Would you get an abortion? the congregation says "No." "Well," the preacher says, "if you would have aborted that baby, you would have aborted John Wesley, founder of the Methodist Church." Well, I'll be damned. Second scenarion was of a family that gave birth to a blind child, a deaf child and a mute child, and a fourth was on the way. "Would you abort this baby for fear of another genetic effect?" "No." "If you would have aborted that baby, you would have aborted Beethoven." Hmmm. Oh and last but not least. "A teenager is preganant, and she has to leave, she goes to church every day, but if people find out she is preggers, people will talk, her husband is not even the father of the baby but has chosen to stick by her side. Would you abort that baby?" "No." "That baby was Hitler, who killed the heathen Jews Amen." Ok really it was Jesus, but the guy said Mary went to church every day, that's funny- there was Christianity before Christ was born? Some of these Evangelical (not all) but some have a way of misconstruing information so badly that it is no wonder we have millions of people out there that are dumber than my hat. Like the Creationists who believe the devil put dinosaur bones on earth to fool us. Or those people who read those conversations between Socrates and Jesus. It's scary, and no matter where you live, Bible Belt, Rust Belt, Bread Basket, Big Apple, Windy City, or the Golden Gate, they are there, every where. Enough of this now for Betty, Your Gal Friday,
Betty, Your Gal Friday
Kim Jong-Il! George W. Bush!
21st Century Dictator Bitch-Fight!
A humble observation by Betty, Your Gal Friday.
Why George, my boy, you called Kim Jong Il a “loathsome pigmy” a few years back and didn’t let your press office push it as positive PR?! Why the heck not?
When I read article “N.Korea Hurls Abuse at Bush, Calls Him Human Trash” by Jack Kim, posted Tue Aug 24, 2004 07:59 AM ET at www.reuters.com, I thought it was a hoot! Heck, I’m still chuckling about that one!
Dear Mr. Kim, Mr. Il, my fellow fan of animated ducks, it is one thing to call President Bush “a political idiot”, but when you call him “human trash” I have to say, you’re on pretty shaky ground.
As an average American living under President Bush’s administration, at least my pets are my pets for the sake of being pets, and not just kept around as a potential food supply! And while President Bush hasn’t come across as an adept leader, millions of Americans will still be able to sear a slab marbled beef across a grill this coming Labor Day! Anybody can find real, fair and balanced news if he or she looks hard enough for it, and best of all, we haven’t had to resort to cannibalism yet! (J.Dahmer jokes aside, you knuckleheads!)
Mr. Il, President Kim—YOU CAN’T BACK UP A SIMILAR CLAIM ABOUT NORTH KOREA!
Readers, I have to tell you that I really dig Korea. I say Korea, not North or South Korea, because it’s only a matter of time before the North finds a way to tell Kim Jong Il and his confederacy of neurotic-sycophants to shove it ala-Bastille-style, and the two states reunite. At last, Korea will become a kick-ass competitor to Japan, and millions of people can finally work on healing the scars of the past century’s strife.
Believe me, I’m not an expert on Korea. I became truly interested in the country on the basis of watching Korean cinema, so I’m probably wrong--but still convinced--that any nation responsible for “My Wife is Gangster” or “Palwolui Christmas” is worth wishing the very best of luck to.
So for now, as our two national leaders with way more power than any of us poor saps combined will ever have go “Nanny Nah-Nah” across the global playground at one another, I’ll just sit back, stockpile some peanut butter, H2O and bullets, and wait to see if our Man with the Plan (sort of) from Crawford will take this latest insult laying face-down in his kim chee.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
Monday, August 23, 2004
Revolution Ratings too Low to be Televised
Part I Rocking the Vote
I have writers block, or there isn't that much to write about as of late. I was going to write about those Anti-Kerry ads running in urban cities with high African American populations such as Detroit, Kansas City, Memphis etc. The ads refer to Kerry as another "White man" running for president who "sounds all wishy-washy." That's a funny way of race baiting right there. This ad appeals to the lowest common denominator. For people who nod their heads to such an ad I would like to point out that George Dub'ya is also a white man politician who actually does sound all wishy-washy. The ad was ran by the People of Color United, and get this, I can't find a link to it- which leads me to believe that this People of Color United is a faux orginization for a wish washy white man in the White House. Karl Rove is a fucking evil genious. Aside from this, he's the mastermind behind that Swiftboat Veterans For Truth that amounts to a load of bull shit. I always like the idea of getting abunch of guys to write an eye witness account about something they didn't eye witness because they either weren't there, or they were on a different boat. These guys in these commercials doing this shit are also the same guys who in 1996 defended Kerry as a war hero and veteran. So these guys are full of shit.
Part II The Olympics and Mysogyny
The Olympics are some what interesting. My girlfriend and I discussed women's beach volleyball and she launched into this long diatribe about how she feels that it isn't fair that these ladies have to wear next to nothing as a uniform, and are "forced" to do so. I said they aren't forced, they're required, and then I said if they wore a full body bathing suit, they'd be uncomfy because of all the sand gathering in their belly buttons. Then I did the typical male response of "if ya got it flaunt it" and "well it's not like they're Muslims or nuns." AKA who gives a fuck?! I have no problem with the women's beach vollyball team wearing bikini uniforms because so far they're the only athletes that actually look like women I can goggle at and not feel guilty about (as oppose to the women's gymnastics, Jesus call it what it is, it ain't women's gymnastics, it's more like pre-teen girl's gymnastics). After watching such women's sports as table tennis, swimming, and hurling, I'm quite happy to see women that look like women. Aside, while working at the bar, it keeps all the men glued to the TV, or keeps them from leaving which means more beer sold, bigger tips and funnier jokes. And that's as sexist as I will get. This is what I get for reccomending a Bitch subscription to my girlfriend. By the way, my girlfriend is reccomending these Lunapads. I have no use for them since I'm a male, I don't know- I can may be blow my nose in 'em or use them as a cod piece, but they are eco-friendly feminine hygeine products. Their web site states:
So if you have no qualms about sticking sea sponges up your *ahem, then go right ahead. You're supporting some back to nature sisterhood cause that I see no problem in. Just don't take away my women's beach vollyball, or synchronized swimming either. Wow, now that's a great sport, two pairs of legs and asses on my TV screen for thirty minutes.
I don't mind magazines like Bitch, Bust, Venus, etc., and I'm quite flattered that my girlfriend would feel so strongly about her sex to read such things, but these magazines at times, I feel, question me more as a male. Is everything I do wrong, am I wrong for existing, having a penis etc.? The last thing I need to hear is that my girlfriend is attending estrojam with her "sisters" so she can get in touch with her inner vagina. I thought that was the whole reason for the Vagina Monologues. I know us men have had the run of the mill since the domestication of plants and animials, I know we created a play ground where airline stewardesses wore revealing tops and bottoms and we could pinch and poke as we pleased. There was a time when we could call a waitress "Cupcake" or "Dimples," but you know what? I never lived during those times. I grew up during the gender neutral 80s and 90s. When I was in middle school we had three girls on the football team and we never thought much about it. I just remember I felt this natural urge to stand behind Anette Lebron as we all squatted in the ready position. I don't mind bust so much, and I think Jane is a joke, but Bitch- my god, it actually does.
So to Bitch, here's the deal. I am a male, I've only been to a strip club twice and hated it. I open doors and offer to go dutch on a date believing that women should feel free to act as my equal (hell they can pay for all I care). I'm a gentleman, I don't stare at females, in fact I ignore them on purpose, 'cause I don't want to come across as some pervert etc. Because in this day and age of overly sensitive this and that, I just don't know the rules of male female neutral realtionships. Last thing I want is to be labled a pig.
But anyway editors of Bitch, biology has instilled this natural tendency that makes me want to eat, sleep, and fuck. This biological goal has also made it apparent that I am visually stimulated by the opposite sex's key features of face, breasts, butts, or legs. When such features spark interest, my biological motor with in my brain, and cells, etc. makes me want to fornicate to ensure that my genes will pass on. Evolution has deemed it necessary that I fornicate with as many females as possible so that I may win in this survival of the fittest scheme. Do I act on it? Well, most of this fornicating is done superficially. Bitch, do you think man is a dirty thing? Well, you think chimpanzees are cute don't you? Truth is very little seperates man from chimpanzee. Why just the other day I was sitting in my cage when this bobnobo ran towards me and took my banana away, so I screeched and screeched for two minutes then thumped my chest and flashed my teeth at him. I then chased him around the cage for an hour and half hurling my water dish towards him. I noticed a female bobnobo at the corner of my eye so I grew tired of the chase and knuckle walked over to her. I sniffed her anus and vagina and picked some fleas off of her furry back to eat when out of know where an alpha male barrled me over. So I hopped over to the corner whimpering and I masterbated while sitting in the tire swing. Oooo! Oooo! Oooo! Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!
Well Bitch, I'm only a male primate, look around my room, there's no Hustler's or Penthhouse Forums, there's no Buttman videos or Teen Creamed Jeans 5 videos, no. I don't even have a Pamela Anderson poster thank God. I don't club women on the head and pull them around by their hair, and I hate it when my friends refer to other women as bitches etc. unless it's describing an inherant trait of a particular person. Bitch, I'm simple, let me oggle at the idea of, but not the obvious- it's my last vestige of maledom.
PART III
Tomorrow I pick up my Blue State reporter at the San Antonio Airport. So needless to say I spent some of the day going around San Antonio trying to fill up a little welcome back bag. I can't say what I got her, cause she might read this tonight. I'm quite excited since I haven't seen my girlfriend since May. No more superficial fornicating. Not much time will be spent together this first week. I'll move her into her dorm, then it's off to San Marcos to my apartment where I'll be gearing up for Wednesday classes, my first day of school of my final semester in college. I graduate in December- and then Awnry Young Texan joins the Peace Corps to put all that anthropology to use and spread smiles to the faces of poor little kids with dysentary.
CLICK HERE AND KEEP READING Y'ALL, OR Y'ALL MISS SOME GOOD PARTS!
I have writers block, or there isn't that much to write about as of late. I was going to write about those Anti-Kerry ads running in urban cities with high African American populations such as Detroit, Kansas City, Memphis etc. The ads refer to Kerry as another "White man" running for president who "sounds all wishy-washy." That's a funny way of race baiting right there. This ad appeals to the lowest common denominator. For people who nod their heads to such an ad I would like to point out that George Dub'ya is also a white man politician who actually does sound all wishy-washy. The ad was ran by the People of Color United, and get this, I can't find a link to it- which leads me to believe that this People of Color United is a faux orginization for a wish washy white man in the White House. Karl Rove is a fucking evil genious. Aside from this, he's the mastermind behind that Swiftboat Veterans For Truth that amounts to a load of bull shit. I always like the idea of getting abunch of guys to write an eye witness account about something they didn't eye witness because they either weren't there, or they were on a different boat. These guys in these commercials doing this shit are also the same guys who in 1996 defended Kerry as a war hero and veteran. So these guys are full of shit.
Part II The Olympics and Mysogyny
The Olympics are some what interesting. My girlfriend and I discussed women's beach volleyball and she launched into this long diatribe about how she feels that it isn't fair that these ladies have to wear next to nothing as a uniform, and are "forced" to do so. I said they aren't forced, they're required, and then I said if they wore a full body bathing suit, they'd be uncomfy because of all the sand gathering in their belly buttons. Then I did the typical male response of "if ya got it flaunt it" and "well it's not like they're Muslims or nuns." AKA who gives a fuck?! I have no problem with the women's beach vollyball team wearing bikini uniforms because so far they're the only athletes that actually look like women I can goggle at and not feel guilty about (as oppose to the women's gymnastics, Jesus call it what it is, it ain't women's gymnastics, it's more like pre-teen girl's gymnastics). After watching such women's sports as table tennis, swimming, and hurling, I'm quite happy to see women that look like women. Aside, while working at the bar, it keeps all the men glued to the TV, or keeps them from leaving which means more beer sold, bigger tips and funnier jokes. And that's as sexist as I will get. This is what I get for reccomending a Bitch subscription to my girlfriend. By the way, my girlfriend is reccomending these Lunapads. I have no use for them since I'm a male, I don't know- I can may be blow my nose in 'em or use them as a cod piece, but they are eco-friendly feminine hygeine products. Their web site states:
We are the manufacturer of Lunapads washable cloth menstrual pads and Lunapanties padded panties. We also sell the Keeper menstrual cup, Sea Pearls natural sea sponge tampons, and many other environmentally responsible products for women’s wellness.
So if you have no qualms about sticking sea sponges up your *ahem, then go right ahead. You're supporting some back to nature sisterhood cause that I see no problem in. Just don't take away my women's beach vollyball, or synchronized swimming either. Wow, now that's a great sport, two pairs of legs and asses on my TV screen for thirty minutes.
I don't mind magazines like Bitch, Bust, Venus, etc., and I'm quite flattered that my girlfriend would feel so strongly about her sex to read such things, but these magazines at times, I feel, question me more as a male. Is everything I do wrong, am I wrong for existing, having a penis etc.? The last thing I need to hear is that my girlfriend is attending estrojam with her "sisters" so she can get in touch with her inner vagina. I thought that was the whole reason for the Vagina Monologues. I know us men have had the run of the mill since the domestication of plants and animials, I know we created a play ground where airline stewardesses wore revealing tops and bottoms and we could pinch and poke as we pleased. There was a time when we could call a waitress "Cupcake" or "Dimples," but you know what? I never lived during those times. I grew up during the gender neutral 80s and 90s. When I was in middle school we had three girls on the football team and we never thought much about it. I just remember I felt this natural urge to stand behind Anette Lebron as we all squatted in the ready position. I don't mind bust so much, and I think Jane is a joke, but Bitch- my god, it actually does.
So to Bitch, here's the deal. I am a male, I've only been to a strip club twice and hated it. I open doors and offer to go dutch on a date believing that women should feel free to act as my equal (hell they can pay for all I care). I'm a gentleman, I don't stare at females, in fact I ignore them on purpose, 'cause I don't want to come across as some pervert etc. Because in this day and age of overly sensitive this and that, I just don't know the rules of male female neutral realtionships. Last thing I want is to be labled a pig.
But anyway editors of Bitch, biology has instilled this natural tendency that makes me want to eat, sleep, and fuck. This biological goal has also made it apparent that I am visually stimulated by the opposite sex's key features of face, breasts, butts, or legs. When such features spark interest, my biological motor with in my brain, and cells, etc. makes me want to fornicate to ensure that my genes will pass on. Evolution has deemed it necessary that I fornicate with as many females as possible so that I may win in this survival of the fittest scheme. Do I act on it? Well, most of this fornicating is done superficially. Bitch, do you think man is a dirty thing? Well, you think chimpanzees are cute don't you? Truth is very little seperates man from chimpanzee. Why just the other day I was sitting in my cage when this bobnobo ran towards me and took my banana away, so I screeched and screeched for two minutes then thumped my chest and flashed my teeth at him. I then chased him around the cage for an hour and half hurling my water dish towards him. I noticed a female bobnobo at the corner of my eye so I grew tired of the chase and knuckle walked over to her. I sniffed her anus and vagina and picked some fleas off of her furry back to eat when out of know where an alpha male barrled me over. So I hopped over to the corner whimpering and I masterbated while sitting in the tire swing. Oooo! Oooo! Oooo! Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!
Well Bitch, I'm only a male primate, look around my room, there's no Hustler's or Penthhouse Forums, there's no Buttman videos or Teen Creamed Jeans 5 videos, no. I don't even have a Pamela Anderson poster thank God. I don't club women on the head and pull them around by their hair, and I hate it when my friends refer to other women as bitches etc. unless it's describing an inherant trait of a particular person. Bitch, I'm simple, let me oggle at the idea of, but not the obvious- it's my last vestige of maledom.
PART III
Tomorrow I pick up my Blue State reporter at the San Antonio Airport. So needless to say I spent some of the day going around San Antonio trying to fill up a little welcome back bag. I can't say what I got her, cause she might read this tonight. I'm quite excited since I haven't seen my girlfriend since May. No more superficial fornicating. Not much time will be spent together this first week. I'll move her into her dorm, then it's off to San Marcos to my apartment where I'll be gearing up for Wednesday classes, my first day of school of my final semester in college. I graduate in December- and then Awnry Young Texan joins the Peace Corps to put all that anthropology to use and spread smiles to the faces of poor little kids with dysentary.
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