Should any of you doubt my commitment to fag bashing, let me tell you about this past weekend and my righteous response to young teens who want to "come out."
Some 13-year-old kid appeared on the cover of the NYT magazine, declaring he was openly gay. That really got my blood up (and soon his blood up).
I flew to Oklahoma City, rented a car, then went to his podunk town. I knocked on the door. Soon the kid himself opened the door. I asked "are you Austin." When he said yes, I took his head in my hands and smashed it into the door as I closed it. There was a big smear of blood as he went down and crumpled.
"Awesome," I thought; one down and who knows how many to go?
It's safe to say, though, that "Austin" will not be advertising his sick, perverted, and twisted "lifestyle" anytime soon. All I need is a few good (hetero) men to kick his kind back in closet where they belong.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Up against the wall, Redneck mother
As Princeton's lone redneck (and I say it with pride), I was saddened and dissapointed that I somehow missed NY's Gay Pride Day this past summer. Thousands of fags, and I overlooked the opportunity to punch and kick even one of them into complete unconsciousness.
I'm really getting annoyed at the lack of support I'm getting from the Heteros (meaning normal people). Some say that senseless violence and boneheadism is no way to win people over politically. To them I say look at the last true American who had the cojones to heckle Obama in his health care speech. We need more people with the kind of guts to act completely out-of-line and idiotically at a major national function.
I do not lie! Take your pick: idiocy and the totally broken status quo or socialism?
I'll tell you how I handle foreigners. I ask for some gas in NJ, where they still have (often) Auslander pump jockeys. I wait for them to start pumping, then take my own gas can, pour the contents over give-them-a-chance and they'll be Osama's bodies, then watch them flare up like a Roman Candle.
This is usually pretty effective at scaring their friends and families, but for some reason (probably terrorist infiltration) the police usually come along and arrest me and put me in the slam.
All I can think about is what the Michigan Militia would think of this, and they are just what this country needs. Balding middle-aged men with paunches could save us all, if we just armed them with the latest and most advanced military technology that they have no idea how to use.
Don't tread on me, at least not before dinner.
I'm really getting annoyed at the lack of support I'm getting from the Heteros (meaning normal people). Some say that senseless violence and boneheadism is no way to win people over politically. To them I say look at the last true American who had the cojones to heckle Obama in his health care speech. We need more people with the kind of guts to act completely out-of-line and idiotically at a major national function.
I do not lie! Take your pick: idiocy and the totally broken status quo or socialism?
I'll tell you how I handle foreigners. I ask for some gas in NJ, where they still have (often) Auslander pump jockeys. I wait for them to start pumping, then take my own gas can, pour the contents over give-them-a-chance and they'll be Osama's bodies, then watch them flare up like a Roman Candle.
This is usually pretty effective at scaring their friends and families, but for some reason (probably terrorist infiltration) the police usually come along and arrest me and put me in the slam.
All I can think about is what the Michigan Militia would think of this, and they are just what this country needs. Balding middle-aged men with paunches could save us all, if we just armed them with the latest and most advanced military technology that they have no idea how to use.
Don't tread on me, at least not before dinner.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Burn, Hollywood, Burn!
Since there are so many "arsonists" maliciously burning mountains in the San Gabriels around LA, why doesn't someone start a tasty blaze right next to the famous "Hollywood" sign above Griffith Park?
The symbolism of that sign turning to toast would be the greatest photo-op since the WTC in NY. Because, when you think about it, it wasn't America's business practices that so offends Al-Queda and other groups; it's disgusting American culture.
Who is at the head of the juggernaut of violent and sexual images around the globe? Hollyweird. Who destroys local culture and cultural restraint? The same. Whose work product knows no boundaries, not national or moral? Guess. What is America's greatest export? Images, many of them non-traditional and a threat to those who hold those traditions.
So if you want to strike at the heart of the debased American lifestyle, I'll show you what to burn. I'm all for it, so long as no one gets killed.
The symbolism of that sign turning to toast would be the greatest photo-op since the WTC in NY. Because, when you think about it, it wasn't America's business practices that so offends Al-Queda and other groups; it's disgusting American culture.
Who is at the head of the juggernaut of violent and sexual images around the globe? Hollyweird. Who destroys local culture and cultural restraint? The same. Whose work product knows no boundaries, not national or moral? Guess. What is America's greatest export? Images, many of them non-traditional and a threat to those who hold those traditions.
So if you want to strike at the heart of the debased American lifestyle, I'll show you what to burn. I'm all for it, so long as no one gets killed.
Time Stands Still in Southern California
As summer fades into autumn in the Northeast, I have to wonder how people in Southern California know that time is passing.
Time for a new face-lift? Time to trade-up on your car? Time for yet another divorcee to move to Marina Del Rey? Time for a celebrity divorce after their dog-and-porney show Hollywood "marriages" that are lucky to last a year?
I hate what I love about LA, which is its constant social experimentation. But experimentation seems to devolve into naked narcissism. To which the inhabitants of Lotus-Land say "so what?". The cult of you has only been reinforced by Facebook et. al., where your life becomes distilled into a greeting card. Hallmark is being blown away by millions of people's advertisements for themselves.
The word I want to avoid, since it's been used by so many social observers, is "phoney." Is it phoney if you believe it yourself? Is the new you so oppositional to the old one that it amounts to putting on a Halloween mask for the rest of your life? Or does the mask become you? (apologies to Jim Carrey).
The Venice boardwalk is a wondrous thing, but it's also absurd. So many people trying to be different and special that they become a parody of themselves. Self-absorbed LA narcissists! How unusual! Then again, it's a supposed response to the social conformity of the places many of the boulevardiers came from, a chance to open your wings. Just try not to hit the next guy doing the same thing.
I'm obviously conflicted about the place and American society in general. Think I'll rebel against mainstream mores by walking up and down my street in a man-thong.
Time for a new face-lift? Time to trade-up on your car? Time for yet another divorcee to move to Marina Del Rey? Time for a celebrity divorce after their dog-and-porney show Hollywood "marriages" that are lucky to last a year?
I hate what I love about LA, which is its constant social experimentation. But experimentation seems to devolve into naked narcissism. To which the inhabitants of Lotus-Land say "so what?". The cult of you has only been reinforced by Facebook et. al., where your life becomes distilled into a greeting card. Hallmark is being blown away by millions of people's advertisements for themselves.
The word I want to avoid, since it's been used by so many social observers, is "phoney." Is it phoney if you believe it yourself? Is the new you so oppositional to the old one that it amounts to putting on a Halloween mask for the rest of your life? Or does the mask become you? (apologies to Jim Carrey).
The Venice boardwalk is a wondrous thing, but it's also absurd. So many people trying to be different and special that they become a parody of themselves. Self-absorbed LA narcissists! How unusual! Then again, it's a supposed response to the social conformity of the places many of the boulevardiers came from, a chance to open your wings. Just try not to hit the next guy doing the same thing.
I'm obviously conflicted about the place and American society in general. Think I'll rebel against mainstream mores by walking up and down my street in a man-thong.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
I am an Arizona Republican
I am an Arizona Republican. I live in the Phoenix area, where the average temp in summer is about 110 degrees, but we like it just fine here, thanks to:
1) Water supplied by damming the Colorado River, by the federal government
2) Relatively cheap electricity, from the feds again, to run our AC's at a frigid 68 degrees year-round.
3) The interstate highway system. Ninety percent paid for by the federal government. Otherwise, we'd be on rutted dirt roads.
Now the government is proposing spending it's money on the health-care uninsured, among others. Now our government-created city would face "socialized" medicine. Mobilize! Spend money on golf courses, not on the uninsured. I am a disgusting parody of the ugly American; help me fan the flames of absolute ignorance.
Thanks for your silence, which amounts to do-nothing acquiescence. All that evil requires to triumph, as someone said, is that good men do nothing.
1) Water supplied by damming the Colorado River, by the federal government
2) Relatively cheap electricity, from the feds again, to run our AC's at a frigid 68 degrees year-round.
3) The interstate highway system. Ninety percent paid for by the federal government. Otherwise, we'd be on rutted dirt roads.
Now the government is proposing spending it's money on the health-care uninsured, among others. Now our government-created city would face "socialized" medicine. Mobilize! Spend money on golf courses, not on the uninsured. I am a disgusting parody of the ugly American; help me fan the flames of absolute ignorance.
Thanks for your silence, which amounts to do-nothing acquiescence. All that evil requires to triumph, as someone said, is that good men do nothing.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Not Harvard, Hervard
I have come up with a plan to upend the American metritocracy on it's sacred ass. I'm starting a university. In Cambridge, MA. Called Hervard.
How to compete with the legendary college down the street? Easy; I allow absolutely no one get in. That's right. A rejection rate of 100 percent.
Famous scholars and world leaders would be invited, at an obscene rate, to lecture before absolutely empty lecture halls. The graduation speech would be determined by a mixure of People magazine covers and National Enquirer articles. Thinking of applying? Who the hell do you think you are?
Our campus would be run by Resorts International, and students would be spared no comfort. Bad feet at 2 am? We'll have someone there in a jiff. Far be it that even Freshman are consigned roommates. We have one-bedroom suites with a masseuse on call.
The catch? You'll never get in here. Not if you score 1600 on your SAT's. Our faculty spend their time suntanning, boozing, and writing terrible obscure scholarly papers that end up in Reader's Digest.
So remember. Down the street is America's oldest university. But in our high-rise condo campus, exclusion is everything. Harvard has an acceptance rate of under 10 percent, but let's see them top ours: 0 percent. Maybe the busboy's son would get in.
Yours in telling the meritocracy to shove it up their collective asses,
Tourguide,
Sept. 5, 2009
How to compete with the legendary college down the street? Easy; I allow absolutely no one get in. That's right. A rejection rate of 100 percent.
Famous scholars and world leaders would be invited, at an obscene rate, to lecture before absolutely empty lecture halls. The graduation speech would be determined by a mixure of People magazine covers and National Enquirer articles. Thinking of applying? Who the hell do you think you are?
Our campus would be run by Resorts International, and students would be spared no comfort. Bad feet at 2 am? We'll have someone there in a jiff. Far be it that even Freshman are consigned roommates. We have one-bedroom suites with a masseuse on call.
The catch? You'll never get in here. Not if you score 1600 on your SAT's. Our faculty spend their time suntanning, boozing, and writing terrible obscure scholarly papers that end up in Reader's Digest.
So remember. Down the street is America's oldest university. But in our high-rise condo campus, exclusion is everything. Harvard has an acceptance rate of under 10 percent, but let's see them top ours: 0 percent. Maybe the busboy's son would get in.
Yours in telling the meritocracy to shove it up their collective asses,
Tourguide,
Sept. 5, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Absurd LA wildfire "arson" lies and myths
So the hills around LA are burning again. What a surprise! The Indians only called them the Fire Hills for a reason.
Every time fires start in the hills, there is a shadowy arsonist/homicidal maniac to blame. The only problem? This mythical person is never found, no matter what the ransom.
The people at fault are obviously the real estate industry, who keep building "view lot" houses deeper and deeper into the hills. The occupants of these dwellings then expect the government to bail them out with fire control measures like fire-dousing water and powder from helicopters.
The only thing that turns the fires around, though, is a lessening of the Santa Ana winds that blow fire on everything in range and are literally uncontrollable. The Indians set fires every fall to cut down the chaparral so that the fires would be controlled.
Instead, you have real estate-connected politicians insisting that there is not enough fire retardation being done. In hills that are built to burn.
Mark my words. No legitimate "arsonist" will be caught. They've tried the bribe (excuse me "reward") before, and came up with a whole lot of nothing. Here's betting on the same.
Every time fires start in the hills, there is a shadowy arsonist/homicidal maniac to blame. The only problem? This mythical person is never found, no matter what the ransom.
The people at fault are obviously the real estate industry, who keep building "view lot" houses deeper and deeper into the hills. The occupants of these dwellings then expect the government to bail them out with fire control measures like fire-dousing water and powder from helicopters.
The only thing that turns the fires around, though, is a lessening of the Santa Ana winds that blow fire on everything in range and are literally uncontrollable. The Indians set fires every fall to cut down the chaparral so that the fires would be controlled.
Instead, you have real estate-connected politicians insisting that there is not enough fire retardation being done. In hills that are built to burn.
Mark my words. No legitimate "arsonist" will be caught. They've tried the bribe (excuse me "reward") before, and came up with a whole lot of nothing. Here's betting on the same.
Local News as told by Bushy Mustaches
Philadelphia news was hilarious through the 1970s and 1980s, especially if you lived where I did, between the Philly market (largely ignored) and the New York market (where many locals commuted to for its high salaries).
First of all was (were?) the mustaches, and the cheap sets. And the yellow blazers. It sounds like something out of that Will Ferrell movie, but it was true. Action News. Cue the sound.
This was during the period in which Philly lost a quarter of it's population, and Frank Rizzo was mayor. Rizzo basically had one commandment: keep the (Italian word for black) in line. Nonetheless the city kept losing it's manufacturing jobs (it was "the workshop of the world").
New York liberals at the same time decided that it was a racist society that accounted for black underclass crime. As a result of their heartfelt understanding, they got mugged numerous times and privatized their schools, transportation, and housing.
The local TV stations were the networks' flagship stations: WCBS. WNBC, and WABC. The anchormen seemed sophisticated and worldly. Crime was, in retrospect, played down, leaving the subject open for the Daily News and the Post.
A confession. I love the NY Post. It is truly local, and as a former reporter, totally biased. The first thing they teach you in journalism classes is the danger of editorializing. This means putting your opinion into a piece. The Post does this routinely, calling various accused people "scum," "pervert", "dirtbag" and other insults. This would be really fun writing.
My favorite section of the Post is the Police Blotter. It tells you what crimes have taken place in various far-flung areas of the city. Often there is videotape footage attached.
If not, there are suspect's names. Since you can't identify the race of a suspect in your article, unless it is relevant (check out the AP stylebook) to the attack, you get to guess the race by the accused names.
This is a piece of cake with Latinos, who all seem to be named Jesus and have the last name Martinez. With blacks, black parents have now decided to give their children names that are obviously black, which is good. Except if you get arrested, in which case readers can easily identify your race by their strangely Africanized names (Ju-won this, Latrelle that, D-Shawn, Shaquille O'Neal). Don't get me wrong. This is a terrible developement, but if the papers don't identify the race of an assailant, then TV news will take over with their artist sketchists (yes I know it's misspelled).
Face the music, America. You're only as multi-culti as to the degree that you include American blacks. No matter how many people of another race prosper here, the country's original sin of slavery has not been wiped out. Keep trying.
First of all was (were?) the mustaches, and the cheap sets. And the yellow blazers. It sounds like something out of that Will Ferrell movie, but it was true. Action News. Cue the sound.
This was during the period in which Philly lost a quarter of it's population, and Frank Rizzo was mayor. Rizzo basically had one commandment: keep the (Italian word for black) in line. Nonetheless the city kept losing it's manufacturing jobs (it was "the workshop of the world").
New York liberals at the same time decided that it was a racist society that accounted for black underclass crime. As a result of their heartfelt understanding, they got mugged numerous times and privatized their schools, transportation, and housing.
The local TV stations were the networks' flagship stations: WCBS. WNBC, and WABC. The anchormen seemed sophisticated and worldly. Crime was, in retrospect, played down, leaving the subject open for the Daily News and the Post.
A confession. I love the NY Post. It is truly local, and as a former reporter, totally biased. The first thing they teach you in journalism classes is the danger of editorializing. This means putting your opinion into a piece. The Post does this routinely, calling various accused people "scum," "pervert", "dirtbag" and other insults. This would be really fun writing.
My favorite section of the Post is the Police Blotter. It tells you what crimes have taken place in various far-flung areas of the city. Often there is videotape footage attached.
If not, there are suspect's names. Since you can't identify the race of a suspect in your article, unless it is relevant (check out the AP stylebook) to the attack, you get to guess the race by the accused names.
This is a piece of cake with Latinos, who all seem to be named Jesus and have the last name Martinez. With blacks, black parents have now decided to give their children names that are obviously black, which is good. Except if you get arrested, in which case readers can easily identify your race by their strangely Africanized names (Ju-won this, Latrelle that, D-Shawn, Shaquille O'Neal). Don't get me wrong. This is a terrible developement, but if the papers don't identify the race of an assailant, then TV news will take over with their artist sketchists (yes I know it's misspelled).
Face the music, America. You're only as multi-culti as to the degree that you include American blacks. No matter how many people of another race prosper here, the country's original sin of slavery has not been wiped out. Keep trying.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Philadelphia
Always in the shadow of NY and DC, Philly has an inferiority complex that is entirely undeserved. I decided to take Lux on a tour of the city's fine, and cheap bars.
McGuillens, the oldest bar in the city. Bob and Barbara's, who serve only PBR in cans, the punk rock bar that's aging, just like punk. Dirty Frank's, where it's always midnight, thanks to the total lack of windows (it was closed unfortunately on Sunday). Philly and Baltimore are the best bar towns on the East Coast.
Why? They're still essentially working class burgs, and no one worries about appearing drunk on the 11 o'clock news because no one knows them, aside from friends and family.
If you live in DC, you owe it to yourself to go to Fell's Point or (now) Canton in Baltimore. It would do your uptight ass some good, and you can be shitfaced at 1 pm and no one cares.
The classic DC posture was best brought to light by John Riggins, former Redskins running back, who passed out under a table at some event where Justice Sandra Day O'Conner was attending. "Sandy, baby," he said. "Loosen up, you're too tight." The whole town could benefit from that advice.
Heil to the Redskins.
McGuillens, the oldest bar in the city. Bob and Barbara's, who serve only PBR in cans, the punk rock bar that's aging, just like punk. Dirty Frank's, where it's always midnight, thanks to the total lack of windows (it was closed unfortunately on Sunday). Philly and Baltimore are the best bar towns on the East Coast.
Why? They're still essentially working class burgs, and no one worries about appearing drunk on the 11 o'clock news because no one knows them, aside from friends and family.
If you live in DC, you owe it to yourself to go to Fell's Point or (now) Canton in Baltimore. It would do your uptight ass some good, and you can be shitfaced at 1 pm and no one cares.
The classic DC posture was best brought to light by John Riggins, former Redskins running back, who passed out under a table at some event where Justice Sandra Day O'Conner was attending. "Sandy, baby," he said. "Loosen up, you're too tight." The whole town could benefit from that advice.
Heil to the Redskins.
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