***The New York Times hit the nail (or Libyan) on the head October 21 with an
editorial that is sure to stand alongside "Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus" and "Go West Young Man" in the Pantheon of Universal Inanity.
While the civilized world (and Muslims as well) were dancing joyfully over the mutilated corpse of Muammar el-Qaddafi , the Times’ editorialists
came swiftly to the aid of the nascent republic with profound and insightful advice. "Libyans must channel their passion into building a free and productive country" the headline screamed
atop the NYT web site.
Ohhh....My...God! Why didn’t I think of that!
And here I was about to tweet the transitional Libyan government advising it to set up a repressive tyranny in their newly liberated tract of
sand and clamp down on any signs of growth, prosperity, or happiness.
Thank God for the New York Times! The newspaper of
record deserves every Pulitzer Prize and Order of Lenin it has ever received or ever will receive.
And there’s more good
news! The Times has dispatched renowned columnist Paul Krugman and his sexy co-columnist Maureen Dowd to the desert non-kingdom to help the nation get on track for receiving massive American aid
by ensuring that their camel-herding-based economy collapses.
***By coincidence, George Will's September 15, 2011 op-ed column, "All in the Federal Family," echoes my post of the same date, "In the
Beginning Was the Word." Mr. Will, a well-known and respected syndicated columnist, writes:
In societies governed by persuasion, politics is mostly talk, so liberals’ impoverishment of their vocabulary matters. Having damaged
liberalism’s reputation, they call themselves progressives. Having made the federal government’s pretensions absurd, they have resurrected the supposed synonym "federal family."
Having made federal spending suspect, they advocate "investments for job creation," a euphemism for stimulus, another word they have made toxic
In Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland Lewis Carroll describes Alice’s trial by a pack of cards led by the tyrannical King and Queen of
Hearts.
"Hold your tongue!" said the Queen, turning purple.
"I won't!" said
Alice.
"Off with her head!" the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody moved.
"Who cares for you?" said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by this time.) "You're nothing but a pack of cards!"
Friends, there is no need to knuckle in to a limp-wrist cabal of timorously vicious assholes.
It’s time and past time to take up arms against liberalism’s war on the English language. Liberals are nothing but a pack of cards.
***Somebody named Hilton Als (with a name like that you just know he’s gay), in a paean to late fag-hag playwright Wendy Wasserstein in
the September 12, 2011 New Yorker, observed that Wasserstein belonged to "that generation of playwrights [that]...sent up institutions like heterosexuality and marriage."
Wendy Hilton
I don’t know Wasserstein’s oeuvre from a hole in the wall nor do I care to; nor do I know to which planet she sent up the
various targets of her displeasure.
Neither do I know Mr. Als and his oeuvre (if he possesses any) nor do I care to.
What I do know is that anyone who refers to heterosexuality as an institution is an illiterate asshole not to mention a paying member of
the Church of Gayness.
As President Obama might say and often does: Let me make myself perfectly clear:
● The Smithsonian is an Institution.
● Slavery is an
Institution.
● Harvard is an Institution.
● Marriage is
an Institution.
But Heterosexuality?
Is a Vagina an institution? Is
Testosterone an Institution? Is Love an Institution? Is Masculinity an Institution? Is Hunger an Institution? Is an Erection an Institution? Is Sexual Intercourse an Institution? Is Death an
Institution?
To pursue Hilton’s logic, I guess he considers Fag-Haggery, Homosexuality, and Pedophilia to be Institutions as
well.
What a friggin’ jackass.
[And yeah, I did a Google
check and Mr. Als is indeed gay. So now we know why the New Yorker hired him.]
***I don’t know much about Jon Huntsman, former Utah governor and Jonny-come-lately to the crowded field of Republican presidential
hopefuls, but judging from the quantity of front page space devoted to Jon in the New York Times, he is Liberaldom’s John McCain/Bob Dole straw man of choice for the current election
cycle.
Mr. Huntsman is trim, moneyed, and Mormanish with distinguished graying hair, a cute first name, and no discernable
moral or political convictions that might get in the way of a sound thrashing in 2012 by Pinch Sulzberger paramour, Barack Obama.
***The last space shuttle has, supposedly, made its final flight. I guess NASA and the D.C. bureaucrats will now busy themselves with
some new scheme on which to squander a few trillion rapidly depreciating U.S. dollars ─ maybe a manned flight to Jupiter to investigate a mysterious black monolith that recently landed on the
moon.
Even when I was an aerospace engineer at RCA, I didn't see much purpose in burning up vast quantities of fuel in order to shoot
Americans into space except, perhaps, to beat the Russians to the punch or to prevent an army of technicians and scientists from going into marketing or becoming hedge fund managers.
Yeah, yeah, yeah....I know...we might not have had space blankets and zero-gravity crappers without the Apollo program, and we certainly
wouldn’t have been treated to Neil Armstrong fucking up his little speech when he set foot on the moon. (If it had been Obama, he would have had a teleprompter to help out.)
As I mention in a recent post, the Englishman George Mallory was keen on climbing Mt. Everest because it was there.
That’s about the long and short of why we send men into space ─ with one important difference: Mallory had the right to do anything
he wanted with his own life and fortune no matter how stupid, but ferrying people back and forth from space platforms or propelling them to the moon, mars, or whatever, involves absurd amounts
of time, resources, and taxpayer money.
In the future, let’s stick to using outer space for what God intended ─ to
provide TV service to Uganda, Antarctica, and New Hampshire, to spy on the North Korean missile program, and to help female drivers find their way home after a few too many in the local
bistro.
This country should get the hell out of the manned space flight business. It’s a total loser. And if, 20 years
from now, we wake up to learn that Mao Zedong has become the first mummified Chinese tyrant to land on Uranus, who gives a good goddamn.
***I see that CNN has cancelled liberal whore-master Elliot Spitzer’s "In the Arena" bullshit-fest, itself successor to the previously
cancelled "Parker-Spitzer" bullshit-fest co-starring pseudo-conservative dishrag Kathleen Parker.
Kathleen and Eliot in happier times.
When Parker was dumped a few months ago, I advised CNN to pair Spitzer with a conservative female who didn’t feel impelled to preface her
every observation with "I may be wrong, but..." or "Perhaps your right, however,..." or "In my opinion, Eliot..." Not surprisingly, CNN’s management didn’t heed my advice.
After all, folks, faithful members of the Church of Liberalism, those tingly-legged souls who control the media, would happily see
their organizations wither and die rather than allow an opposition spokesperson to enter their crumbling cathedral.
***Plaxico Burress, the wide receiver who caught the winning touchdown pass in Super Bowl XLII that ended the New England
Patriots perfect season, has been released from prison after serving two years on a gun charge.
Plaxico's Super Bowl-winning catch for the Giants
You may recall that Plaxico managed to shoot himself in the thigh in a New York City nightclub in 2008. As the tale goes, he had tucked his Glock semi-automatic into the waistband of his sweatpants.
Not surprisingly, the gun began sliding down his leg. Not surprisingly, he attempted to stem the descent. Not surprisingly, he accidentally pulled the trigger.
A loud bang ensued followed by EMS workers, police, bail postings, lawyers, sentencing, and a speech by Mayor Bloomberg.
Now that Plaxico has paid his debt to society and is looking for a job, he has pledged to assist the Urban League and the Brady Center to Prevent Gun
Violence. "Guns don’t help anybody," Plaxico is quoted as saying.
I’m not sure that is a universal truth, but I will say that
it is a universal truth that one should not wear sweatpants to a New York City nightclub whether or not one is packing a Glock.
In any event, I wish Plaxico the best. He’s one hell of a wideout even he is a can short of a six-pack..
UPDATE! Plaxico has signed with the Jets. I was hoping he'd return to the Giants, but what the heck, half a cup's better than none.
***The Infidel World (us) is currently being entertained by a traditional media cud-chewing extravaganza involving so-called uprisings
that have been roiling the Islamic World (them).
Youthful idealists in Tunisia, Lebanon, Egypt, and Yemen (soon to be followed,
no doubt, by faithful followers of The Prophet elsewhere) have been busy for several months rioting, looting, setting themselves on fire, issuing threats, making strange noises with their tongues,
stoning women, and Allahu-Akbaring. In other words, as my wife used to put it in re her sons’ activities after they reached the age of jerk-off, they’ve been "doing their thing."
Food shortages, foreign instigators, intrusive journalists, Twitter, Facebook, cell phones, unemployment, rigged elections, despotic
rulers, Zionist conspiracies, U. S. perfidy, Hillary Clinton’s stumpy legs, Disney’s glorification of an Unbeliever Mouse, Richard the Lionhearted’s attempt to wrest Jerusalem from the Turks,
Alexander the Great’s conquest of the Persian Empire, Danish cartoonists, Koran flushings, and Barack Obama’s failure to perform Wudu after pissing have all been adduced as sparks that set off the
conflagrations.
Perhaps. But careful regression analyses and several triple-blind studies by Dome of Glass cast doubt on these
explanations.
It now emerges that peoples of Islamic persuasion require periodic mass "freshenings" (rioting, looting, setting
themselves on fire, issuing threats, making strange noises with their tongues, stoning women, and Allahu-Akbaring) every 50 to 75 years to freshen and reinvigorate the population’s healthy flow of
fanaticism, much as a dairy cow needs to be fucked every few years in order to freshen and reinvigorate her flow of milk.
In
the case of a typical cow, the casus fucking is, generally, the cow going into heat in the vicinity of a bull.
In the
case of a typical Mohammedan mob, the casus dementia can be almost anything provided a full moon, television cameras, BBC crews, and Jimmy Carter are in the area.
***A few years back, a large, muscular White moron named Mark Gastineau, a defensive end for the New
York Jets, took to performing what he called a "Sack Dance" whenever he brought down a quarterback.
Everyone thought he was an asshole.
Everyone was right.
The league outlawed his "dance."
Mark Gastineau doing his sack
dance over a fallen quarterback
Nowadays when a Black football player pulls the same sort of crap or worse the broadcasters and commentators chime in: "He’s letting his emotions hang out"...:He’s having fun"..."The fans love
it"..."Let the kid enjoy himself."
Well I don’t know what fans other than myself love, but when a 300-pound lineman performs simulated sexual
intercourse after he sacks a quarterback or a 250-pound running back prances around jiggling his ass after scoring a touchdown or a six-foot-four wideout does the cakewalk after he catches a pass or
a 260-pound linebacker straddles the man he has just tackled and beats on his chest like a mountain gorilla, he is insulting his opponents, debasing himself, and acting as if his audience is as crass
and stupid as he is...even if he is Black.
What? I’m a racist? Fuck you.
It’s the media
whores and coaches and team owners and NFL officials — the White apologists who think of Blacks as children with ADHD and who, out of fear and bigotry, permit and abet these ugly, undignified,
embarrassing, and unsportsmanlike displays — that are the real racists.
***In a recent NYT recap of L’Affaire Olbermann, replete with typical liberal euphemisms for left-wing fascists ("outspoken,"
"distinctive," "mercurial," "forceful"), reporters Bill Carter and Brian Stelter emphasize Olbermann’s role in hiking MSNBC’s ratings and establishing the channel’s "brand.". According to the
article, Olbermann’s daily rant and frequent Paul Harvey-like cornball readings of James Thurber stories, boosted MSNBC viewership from several hundred thousand to a million plus.
What nobody seems to ask is: What sort of people constituted Olbermann’s following? Since I personally never met anyone who admitted to
watching the show, my assumption is that the audience for a rabble-rouser like Olbermann consisted (you guessed it) of rabble.
Look friends, any psychotic megalomaniac with a prime-time slot on cable TV can entice a million or two zombies to tune in provided the channel is
jake with having the dregs of the earth as an audience and can dig up enough zombie advertisers and wealthy zombie activists like George Soros to foot the bill.
***The New York Times, America’s crusading or jihading Newspaper of Record, has once again trumped the opposition.
In a stunning and highly disturbing exposé published August 11 by two Jews and someone who sounds Polish, the Times has revealed a horrific shortage of "minority" third-base coaches in major league
baseball. Here are the shocking facts straight from the horse’s ass, er, I mean mouth as reported by Alan Schwarz, Thomas Kaplan, and Jack Styczynski:
About 40 percent of the players in Major League Baseball are black, Hispanic or Asian, and the sport is seen as a leading example of
diversity, yet a curious disparity has emerged in a corner of the game.
Among baseball’s 30 teams, only 23 percent of the third-base coaches are members of minorities, compared with 67 percent of its first-base coaches. The disparity has existed for decades but it is
now about twice as large as it was in 1990, based on an analysis by The New York Times.
The question is why.
It is more than a mysterious quirk...
Is there no bottom to the bottomless pit of American bigotry...no top to its topless tower of anti-minority evil?
The Times itself, despite valiant efforts to purge racists from within its own ranks, has unwittingly fallen prey to the awful sickness of discrimination.
Why have Schwarz, Kaplan, and Styczynski failed to note that not one quadriplegic Asian is employed as a batperson by the Boston Red Sox?...That not a single Hispanic lesbian has ever hit in the
cleanup position for the New York Yankees?...That only one midget has ever appeared in a major league game and, after he drew a base on balls on four straight pitches, the powers that be forbade
future midgets from appearing in lineups?
Eddie Gaedel at bat in 1951 for the White Sox,
And how many seven-foot-tall black sportswriters are employed at the Times despite the fact that 11.37 per cent of players in the NBA are seven-foot-tall blacks? None! Coincidence? Mysterious
quirk? I think not.
I leave you with this final thought:
Independent and rather sloppy research by Dome of Glass has found that 99.98 percent of cornerbacks in the National Football League are African American or some other kind of African and yet
There Is Not a Single Black Third-Base Coach in the NFL!
BULLETIN! The Boston Red Sox have just named Daisuke Matsuzaka as their third-base coach. This raises the percentage of Asian-non-American third-base coaches to
3.333% (6.667% if you count Dice-K’s interpreter who will share the position with him since none of Dice-K's teammates speaks Japanese)
***My wife and I went to buy a car last November to replace our ’95 Saturn. Our first stop was the Mazda dealer in Keene. As soon as we arrived, a heavyset member of that peculiar breed of human
known as A Car Salesman bounded smilingly out of the showroom.
"What can I do for you folks?" it inquired.
"We’re looking for a new car," I said.
"Anything in particular?"
it asked.
"Small," I said. "Cheap."
Its smile faded,
but it gamely led us to a collection of several hundred vehicles in various shades of maroon, blue, silver, red, gray, white, and black arrayed in a row like whores in a cat house.
I took one look and said, "What the hell are these things?"
"Introducing the new, updated, redesigned, improved 2010 Mazda3," the Car Salesman proudly said.
.
2010 Mazda3. Teeth, mustache, and pink eyes
available for modest cost at DOMEOFGLASS.com
I stared at the Car Salesman, stared at my wife, stared back at the Car Salesman, gathered my thoughts.. "These are the fucking ugliest
automobiles I have ever seen," I said politely. "Do you have any 2009 leftovers?"
"They’re all sold," said the Car
Salesman.
"I can understand why," I said.
"Let me tell
you about the exciting new features in our ‘10s. There’s..."
"I don’t care how many new features these monstrosities have. I’m
not going to get up in the morning, go to the garage, and be greeted by a gaping, grinning, chrome-lipped black-holed car snout. Who designed the damn thing; the make-up guy who did Heath Ledger as
the Joker?"
"But..."
"Sayonara. I’ll see you at the
bankruptcy proceedings." And with that my wife and I took off as fast as our pickup could manage, praying the while that the horrific image of the new, improved, exciting 2010 Mazda3 would not linger
in our nightmares.
─────
Back home, gin-and-tonic in
hand, Two and a Half Men on the boob tube, I reviewed the day’s events. What in God’s name possessed the executives at Mazda to approve of this abomination, I asked myself.
At first I assumed the idiots in marketing were to blame, but I soon rejected this hypothesis ─ it takes a perverse sort of genius
to come up with something so appalling as the 2010 Mazda3, and it’s well-known that marketers don’t have any genius, perverse or otherwise.
No, I decided, there was only one possible explanation for the vehicle: An agent employed by one of Mazda’s evil competitors ─ Honda, Toyota,
Subaru, Isuzu, Suzuki, Mitsubishi, Hyundai, Kia ─ must have infiltrated the firm’s top management, installed Paris Hilton as head of automotive design, replaced the design team’s engineers with
Haitian Zombies, and then bribed, black-mailed, and seduced the CEO, COO, and Board of Directors into approving the resultant catastrophe.
The illustrations are terrific. The path of the Prius driver turning made me laugh out loud.
I get a touch of agida just reading through this post.
Reply to this
Gee Pop, that last drawing looks just like you in your MGB 45 years ago!! see next comment I need some time to work on it.
Reply to this
Your mistaken, Nun. Forty-five years ago I was only 10 years old.
Reply to this
Decades ago I was the worst driver on the road due to my impatience. I often passed miles of backed-up traffic at toll booths then cut in VERY forcibly amid horns and fingers. It was worth it. You know the goose story, that one I regretted. And I was the most obnoxious tailgater ever. I was always in a hurry, even to a dentist appointment. I wove in and out of traffic, crossing lanes, and had to outrun the occasional infuriated cut-offee. Once I couldn’t outrun an ugly male with a V8 who took offense to my having cut him off, and I had to drive to the entrance of a police station to avoid an ass whupping. Hanging in the left lane on a long trip is still a favorite trick of mine. Hey, the speed limit is 65 and I am going 78. I am staying in the left lane unless there is nobody in sight in front of me. Pass me on the right, I have the cruise control on, see if you can make it, better hit the gas. Of course don’t do that shit to me if you want to go 77, after all it is my road and I want to go 78. Finally, I hate it when I am hanging in the left and switch to the right to let someone pass, and then they (as usual) slow down along side of me and trap me behind them and a tractor trailer for the next half hour. Those are probably the people I cut off 12 miles back.
Reply to this
I'm so proud of you. You've learned well at your father's knee.
Now you should concentrate on perfecting the fine art of driving dead drunk and unable to focus properly so that the center line looks like two diverging lines and a two-lane road looks like a four-lane highway.
There is also the wonderful experience of going 15 mph in a 65 mph zone after smoking several joints.
Another fun bit of motoring is to swig down a can of Colt 45 as you're passing the Yorktown Heights police station. The cops always get a big laugh out of this.
But for sheer excitement, you can't beat pulling out to pass a long line of skidding cars going up a long hill at night on an icy, narrow two-lane road during a snow storm with an 18-wheeler bearing down on you in the opposite direction.
Reply to this
How about driving on the entrance ramp to a major highway in Cleveland at night during a snow storm while staring at the hot young Asian woman in the passenger seat resulting in a new friend in the form of a 280 lb black man with whiplash and a crushed trunk on his brand new Chrysler 300?
Reply to this