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|Friday, March 21st, 2003|
Ok, who's with me on this:
What the hell is up with TV news correspondants broadcasting live from US troops' camps? And furthermore: why the fuck are these assholes not shot as soon as someone in a uniform hears them giving away information like location and possible future movements?
fucking news. I think that the guy with the microphone should get a bullet in the brain-pan the minute he slips with some info that is considered military sensitive in the least. Current Mood: annoyed
|Thursday, March 20th, 2003|
open letter to all the bleeding hearts out there
do you have food in your fridge?
do you have a car, or reasonable access to reliable transportation?
do you have the freedom to say whatever you want, without worrying about catching a bullet with your head?
if you answered yes to any of these questions, and you're bitching about this war that's going on, you need to back up a few steps and look at what you're complaining about.
Fact is, without zealots like those we have in office defending your ability to answer yes to those easy little questions, you wouldn't have the first clue how to maintain that level of freedom for yourselves.
Many people don't realize it, but freedom is comprised not mainly of priviledges, but of responsibilities.
So if you don't have a better solution in mind that you can implement right now, shut up or get out. If you have the answer, run for office and fix everything-- because if you don't, it's going to continue to be this way: they'll run it the way it's always been run, and you'll complain about how much you hate the way they run it. Current Mood: pissed off
|Tuesday, December 10th, 2002|
FUCK CALIFORNIA HIGHWAY PATROL
Ok... I live in the mountains, and there are two kinds of people that drive up there. People who drive fast and know the roads well, and people who drive so slow that you could pass them on a big-wheel. Unfortunately, though there are laws against it, the slow drivers never get pulled over or ticketed for not using the turn-outs and obstructing traffic-- but the normal drivers who blaze past them in the passing lane always get nabbed.
76 in a 55, folks. It's a good thing that fat-ass state-trooper wasn't there on one of the days that I was REALLY driving fast. I couldn't talk my way out of it-- he was adamant that I was speeding... neglecting to mention the three SUVs that were a quarter mile ahead of me that he didn't bat an eyelash at, who had to have been going much faster than i was.
So fuck you, you fat bastard. Get a uniform that fits, and maybe the patrol will give you a real car instead of that fucking Bronco you pulled me over in. I hope you fall off the side of the hill and you don't die. I hope you burn for a while and then live out your life in a burn ward for your lack of compassion for the people that are the most frustrated. Current Mood: aggravated
|Friday, November 22nd, 2002|
I am sure we are all aware of the class-action suit being brought against McDonald’s, but I am not exactly going to get into anything over that great big steaming pile of fly-infested shit. But, rather, something I read that came out of that.
One of the kids named in the class-action weighs in at 400 pounds. And this is, of course, the fault of McDonald’s for making their food so tasty.
But her mother was quoted as saying something that makes me think the kid should sue her parents, not McDonald’s.
The mother said that (and I am paraphrasing here) she always thought McDonald’s food was healthy and nutritious.
Fuck all that shit! Is this what the world has come to? That if you’re a stupid bitch with no common sense or respect for your child’s health, you can become part of a frivolous and time-wasting lawsuit that has the potential (however small) to award you millions of dollars?
It’s unfuckingbelievable. How can a grown person not know that greasy and fried foods are fattening? Especially nowadays, when such information is common fucking knowledge!
As I have seen on the Maury Povich Show many times, there are some fat fucking kids out there. And I fucking hate it when people are all sympathetic towards the mothers. “Oh, it’s so hard” they’ll say. No it ain’t; just stop feeding your kids so fucking much food! Just because they ask for stuff doesn’t mean you have to give it to them. There was one lady who was feeding her little toddler steak! He couldn’t even eat it on his own - she had to chew it up for him first!!!!! Goddamit, I am getting mad just writing this.
Will you look at that. I went from a short comment on the McDonald’s thing to a big angry rant about fat kids. Whattaya know.
|Wednesday, November 20th, 2002|
|Tuesday, November 5th, 2002|
"You are a Stim Addict. Every thrill and excitement loses its luster quickly, leaving you thirsting for more. You will take whatever risk with no thought of the danger to fullfill your addiction. You will never be satisfied with your life and never will you be content in a stable relationship."
I hate shrinks.
As a Canadian, I am about to go off on the litigious-happy culture of the United States. Please, don’t take it personally. I like some of you.
An American man is suing AT&T Mobile. The outline of his case is this:
He purchased an AT&T Mobile phone for his son (who, I believe, is nine years old). His son, however, did not receive any calls on his spiffy new phone, because he did not realize that he had to tell people his phone number in order for them to be able to call. The father is blaming this on AT&T because in the instruction booklet that came with the phone, there is no mention of the requirement to distribute your phone number in order to receive calls.
The father is suing for damages because he believes that his son has suffered depression because of the lack of calls. He also claims that the lack of calls has pushed his son towards becoming a homosexual. So he’s suing.
First of all, if this kid is too fucking dumb to know how to work a phone, he’s probably not going to be getting many calls anyway. Even if he did, he’d probably be too busy hunting the neighbourhood cats and lighting their tails on fire.
Secondly, maybe the father should have taken some fucking initiative and taught his son how things work in this technological age. He wouldn’t have to explain exactly how waves carry information to and from the phone, but he could at least mention that people need to know which buttons to press in order to make a phone call.
Thirdly, how the fuck does the lack of phone calls turn someone gay?
Finally, there’s the depression. Sure, not getting phone calls can be a blow to the ego, but I bet a bigger blow comes from a fuckass father who goes public with your stupidity.
This whole lawsuit is a joke, on par with the”McDonald’s coffee is too hot” and “Clitoris rhymes with Dolores” of yesteryear.
oh dear me.
Rubber Ducky, you're the one,
You make bathtime lots of fun,
Rubber Ducky, I'm awfully fond of you;
Woo woo be doo
Rubber Ducky, joy of joys,
When I squeeze you, you make noise!
Rubber Ducky, you're my very best friend, it's true!
Doo doo doo doo, doo doo
Every day when I
Make my way to the tubby
I find a little fella who's
Cute and yellow and chubby
Rubber Ducky, you're so fine
And I'm lucky that you're mine
Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of you.
Every day when I
Make my way to the tubby
I find a little fella who's
Cute and yellow and chubby
Rubber Ducky, you're so fine
And I'm lucky that you're mine
Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of -
Rubber ducky, I'd like a whole pond of -
Rubber ducky I'm awfully fond of you!
Doo doo, be doo Current Mood: amused
|Monday, November 4th, 2002|
So I'm on my way to work today, and I sees a subway poster for Jose Cuervo.
Black background. Gorgeous blonde. Legend in large letters: VIVA CUERVO.
Under that, a tiny, whispered addition: drink responsibly
Long live Cuervo. Drink responsibly.
Here's some tequila; drink responsibly.Here's an assault rifle; shoot to wound
|Wednesday, October 30th, 2002|
ok-- to all assholes on the road:
is your turn signal broken, or are you just too stupid to at least signal your lane changes while you're driving like an asshole on a treacherous mountain road?
Are you better than me? Have you decided that your shit doesn't stink, and that you don't have to make your intentions on the road known to the other people whose lives you endanger whenever you decide to just slide into the next lane without so much as turning your head or even checking your mirrors?
If this is the case, and you are trying to be an ignorant elitist, my intention is to follow you to your driveway, break your window while you're on the other side of it, break off your turn-signal and stab you in the fucking eyes with it, you cock knocking motherfucker. Then I'm going to set a thermite grenade on your hood, set it off and watch the thermite bore through your hood, intake manifold, engine block, front axle and the pavement under your car until it runs out of oxygen and leaves a little pool of white-hot molten iron under what remains of your engine.
you stupid, ignorant, inconsiderate fuck. I hope someone shoves a post-hole digger up your ass, spreads your sphincter wide, and shovels in ten pounds of thumbtacks.
fuck off. Current Mood: discontent
|Tuesday, October 29th, 2002|
the world is my oyster, rotten and toxic
Sammuel Huntington, of Harvard University, a prolific political theorist who's works have guided the realist "balance of power" school in American foreign policy circles for over 30 years, wrote about "The Clash of Civilizations" some years back. When i first read exerpts from this book, i squirmed; he claimed that Western and Islamic cultures were all but irreconcilable, and that American policy should be geared towards keeping in check "traditonalist" tendencies within Islamic states, even if it meant supporting brutal regimes; in Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Turkey, Kuwait (and at the time of the writing) Iraq, and (up until 20 years ago) Iran. I never thought i'd actually see his predictions unfolding before my eyes so soon.
I find myself trying to work it out, to reason why he "MUST" be wrong, but i can't do it...the truth does not hint at dialogue, empathy and understanding. It declares for the opposite, and lies in the realm of Realpolitik, where power is always maximized, where millions of muslims inevitably lose out due to incompetent and self-serving governments. Where they turn to religion, the pillar of their social fabric, only to find it has been usurped by those who's world views are archaic and serve to incense and stir up old hatreds, or replace them with new concocted notions of sacred hate. Where over their shoulders, always, they find robber-states, the US, the UK, sniffing out any opportunity to grab what they can like parasites. In light of these things, i see no hope in the foreseeable future. Do you? How? Current Mood: cynical
|Monday, October 28th, 2002|
Ghouls, Zombies, and Lawyers...
Halloween was always my favorite holiday... my costumes were always just a shade shy of extravagant and i reveled in the look of terror i could occasionally evoke from the random passerby... if stalking the night darkened streets or prowling the half lit pier, i was at home on the night of the dead...
All that changed after my senior year of high school... I suddenly found myself devoid of fellow night walkers... that first Halloween was the worst of my life... i sat at home, huddled before my computer trying desperately to ignore the happy giggle of un-frightened youth... deep in my core something yearned to sweep down on these small pockets of happiness and smother those gleaming points of light... i could nearly taste the terror of the small ones as they would flee before me, not to mention that of the candy they would leave in their wake... but those days were gone... there would be no chainsaw wielding psychopath lurking in the shadows... no daemons or ghouls to feast upon the ill-gotten loot with me... no succubae to laud my efforts...
This hallowed night has lost its luster and earned my scorn.
|Saturday, October 26th, 2002|
From the rafters in all times the insane are hung in rows
The noose is the same lonely tourniquet setting each free
If I were more worthy I’d be there swinging with them
Lined up and separate
In death as in life
But as it stands I can only look up at the moldy skeleton
That makes up the unattainable
To the rafters up on high where my lonely heroes dwell
The dissenting voices of their time
Cut off from the merriment of the common people
Indulging in self sacrificial lunacy and thought
Dooming themselves to the torment of isolation
Reflection is worth it some say
I ask you if you would hang yourself
By the threads of your own questioning ways
Only to find you’re left to rot
Upon the rafters where you’re to be recognized
As an outcast by the many
In that you’ve joined the few
No matter how noble they may be
Do you still think that’s true freedom?
|Tuesday, October 22nd, 2002|
dear little mister K, little brother of the mssrs. K that sign my bloody paycheck:
You are a deskwrecking ass-hair. You fuck up my computer at my desk with your little rinkydink bullshit that you do here two nights a week. Working on one file does NOT entitle you to adjust my desk chair to suit your fat old ass, my armrests to be comfortable for your useless accountant arms. or my screen resolution to make it easier for your cataracting old eyes to read. Fuck you.
I don't go to your house and fistfuck your wife with my big ol' hands so that when you try to bone her it's like feeding a whale a tic-tac, do i? Should I? Then leave my desk alone you dumb fucker.
knowing dick all is now a matter for the experts
Yes, I already posted this in my own journal, but fuck you for noticing.
"Hello this is Kent Brockman, welcome to daily speculator..." I may as well really be in a Simpson's episode. Have you people been watching CNN? I heard some guy speculate that the sniper may be Al-Qaeda shooting people to distract "us" from "their" other operations!? I laughed really hard, stopped, and decided that the whole charade is actually rather upseting. All day this nonsense is on as if there were'nt any other news worth reporting in the world.
I understand there are updates that people want to hear, there certainly were a few important ones today, but to invite "experts" who can do no better that draw up bad plot lines from movies they've seen...come on, this is pure shit. Pure specualtion does not belong in the news. To some extent it is bound to happen, i know, but when NOBODY FUCKING KNOWS any more than "guy with gun kills people, no pattern to date (that the public is aware of)", its time to WAIT for someting more to occur, then "report", as in say something relevant, factual, credible. Its degenerated into second rate pop psychological profiling buy assholes filling the airwaves. I think this specific event, this phase thus far characterized by orgiastic speculation, is going to go down in the books, to be studied and laughed at by media enthusiasts and those involved in the study of media trends. For sure.
There are a great many things going on in the world that, surely, Joe and Jane Kansas don't know from a big black cock, simply because CNN is making some very questionable programming calls. And they wonder why stupidity reigns supreme in the most affluent country in the world, where people have access to varied sources of intel/info, but don't capitalize. Spoonfed intellectual mini-me's we are, but that of course, is old news by now, no?
|Friday, October 18th, 2002|
My boss is a twoheaded beast. Two brothers, same mom, same dad, same upbringing-- different as peas and eggs.
One is a type-a clean freak with the IQ of a jicama.
The other is a certified genius with less common sense than your average 2-year-old on ritalin.
They both make the most laughable decisions-- yet one is on his city's water-board, and the other is the City Treasurer of MY city.
your computers will stop having problems if YOU stop fucking them up. Your chances of an error free computing day are similar to a paper dog's chances of running down an asbestos rabbit in a volcano. You don't pay me enough, and you both know it. I'm going to delete all of the data from your network server as soon as I can figure out a way to blame it on one of your amateurish forays into the world of computing.
fuck you very much,
Me. Current Mood: apathetic
Would you spend 10 million dollars on a bra-and-panty set? No, of course you wouldn’t. But somewhere out there are a bunch of rich, pussy-whipped guys, trying to keep their trophy wives happy while they go through their mid-life crises. There must be, because there does exist a 10 million dollar pair of underpants.
Why the fuck would anyone actually buy something like this? Honestly, I cannot fathom it. The excesses that some people will go to…
And I don’t know who’s worse, they guy that buys it or the girl that asks for it.
To the guy who buys it, I say wake the fuck up! Sure, such a gesture may get you laid a few extra times, but you know what? With that money you could have bought a million back-alley blow jobs! That should be plenty.
And ladies, why do you want this thing? Is it to prove to your hick friends back home that a naïve little country girl can make it in the big shitty by selling off her pussy to some cumbag with cash?
Now, this thing may be just for show, and not for sale, but that’s pretty bad too. Because whatever was spent on the little jewels, fine stitching, and rare silk could have been better used on, oh, I don’t know, just about anything!
Send a thousand kids to college.
Give a few hundred grand to the sniper victim’s families.
Split it among the families of anyone who worked at the World Trade Center for under 10 bucks an hour.
Don’t spend in on a useless, tacky, unnecessary piece of stinking shit just because you can.
Fuck I hate the rich.
Of all the miserable, low, murderous, base things these Al-Quada assholes have done so far, none has affected me so gravely; there used to be a time when i could venture out, unshaven, of olive skin, rough 'round the edges and be considered, dare i say...Sexy! But oh no! No longer is this even conceivable. Now, i'm forced to shave everyday, lest i be mistaken for a bomb-making, sister-jonesing terror monger. What did i do to deserve this.
To top it all off, the bar is full of younglings that seem to think Bon Jovi's rendition of "Wanted Dead or Alive" somehow qualifies as 'classic rock'. NO. People, just because your number didn't come into Gods "to do list" until the early eighties doesn't mean you ought to be free to make a mistake of this magnitude. When the turd on stage at the bar goes into an acoustic crime spree involving Bon Jovi covers, it isn't a reason to cheer. Throw something, take down your pants and fart in the assholes general direction, but don't tell me "Hey man, this is a classic" when i scoff. A classic? What is wrong with these assholes? These people needn't be here. Really, they were the 4th beer in their daddy's six pack and mom...well that slut was out of condoms, pure and simple. Thats the only possible explanation. Why their fathers couldn't have spewed them forth on a pair of tits instead, i'll never understand. Merde. Current Mood: aggravated
|Wednesday, October 16th, 2002|
Do you know why i'm not getting tossed like a Greek boys salad on fire island? Why i'm not getting fucking lifted and totally jacked up? Wasted? Drunk and stoned and bared to the bone? DO YOU? Here's a sample of what happens to me when i do
indulge. Christ:I wonder if it is likely that I’m going to frollick about on this dirty festering muddball until I’m too old and ugly to do so and then procure myself a kalishnakov automatic rifle and make for the Repulican National Convention with murder boiling over in my veins!?Thoughts of committing myslef to toil and the raising of a brood and the inevitable “letting down of” a potential life mate are depressing indeed. Depressing enough in fact, as to constantly interrupt my frollicking ways and forfeit my days to a domestic shadow of their once glorious debauchery. The passsage from youth to the dreadful state of mid-twentyhood is akin to a plump and juice festooned grape being sucked dry by an as of yet unidentified form of tropical grape loving fruit fly with a bulbous veiny body which contrasts itself so perfectly in its ugliness to the once smooth and stretched skin of the grape. Tantamount to that grape do I feel life encroaching upon my plump young dumb and full o’ cum lifestyle. Current Mood: quixotic
Milano cookies are the devil's work.
You heard me. Milano cookies.
Somewhere along the line that vile bitch of the underworld decided that we mortal souls do not have enough sinful addictions in our life. And thus the twenty cent
milano cookie was invented.
I can see you laughing at me... and i know where you live, so shut it.
Who else but satan could pack such addiction into such a small package? Thin insubstantial wafers with a few grams of mint chocolate in the center and this
i spend my hard earned money on? As if sex and caffeine were not bad enough, now the temptation of yet another "victim free" drug pulls at the fibers of my being.
Damn you milano cookies! Current Mood: sullied by sinful seductions