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Two Brothers
Two brothers originally from a place I can barely pronounce have found their way into infamy.
Bombs made from kitchen appliances turn a race into a bloody nightmare - one that will be played, and replayed until it becomes part of the nation’s dysfunctional psyche.
Two brothers with names I can barely pronounce have found their way into infamy.
A city on lock-down, a country tuned in to the latest reality show…who will get voted off the island this time?
Two brothers who were filled with rage for some as of yet unknown reason, have found their way into infamy.
I never knew that Miranda rights could be suspended, then again, I never knew you could make a bomb out of a pressure cooker.
Two brothers who have fueled the fire of xenophobia , and re-kindled Bush-era paranoia, have found their way into infamy.
News media stumbles, misquotes, misinforms…social media does the same. The public laps it up. But in the end, cheers from the mob as one of them is caught alive.
Two brothers originally from a place I can barely pronounce have found their way into infamy.
The court of public opinion is now in session.
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In a Clink of Ice and Fizz.
I have a very talented friend who is a great writer and poet. I showed her this picture of Joan Crawford and she managed to crank out a heartfelt poem.
At the time, we were sure that the man with Crawford in the photo was, Al Steele, her husband and CEO of Pepsi at the time. It turns out we were mistaken. We don’t know who the man is , but let’s assume it’s Mr. Steele.
Now look at the picture and then read the poem.
The poet’s name is Rose, I call her “Lola”. On Facebook she is known as “Justrose Rowhouse” . She is one of the most talented people I know.
When Joan traveled 100,000 miles
on behalf of Pepsi
beside Al Steele, there was
not a supermarket fete
that could set off
a smarter pair.
Here, his daydream measures half of hers
as dispensed in bottled glass. Hands clasp:
fountains, perhaps,
of another time and place, the solitary
face of a clock on its final tick. In this shot,
her coordinated
suit and cap remind us now that hope,
like grace, meets its best guess
in a clink of ice and fizz. -
Ann Coulter is a Cunt
I hate derogatory words like faggot, nigger, kike, cracker, slut, dick, and cunt.
Especially cunt.
Such a mean word to apply to a person, specifically a woman. It strips her of everything and describes her as nothing more than a body part. It demeans her by describing her as the vulva . What a positively horrid word, only a misogynist would use a word like this to describe a woman - don’t you think?
But there are other nasty words that stick in my craw. One of them is retard.
That’s the kind of word only a fourth-grade schoolyard bully, or an uneducated fool might hurl.
As someone who had dedicated the last 28 years of his adult life to working for and with the developmentally disabled, I still shrink back in horror when I hear the word being used. Oh yes, there are still some ignorant folks out there who use the word (sometimes innocently to describe someone’s disability, and sometimes hatefully to demean others). Either way, it’s unacceptable. Surely we’ve moved on, we’ve evolved past such vulgarities as forms of expression.
Surely?Right?
Wrong.
It seems that professional wind bag, Ann Coulter might have been feeling a bit ignored recently when she decided to take to Twitter and (after the debate the other night) referred to the president as a “Retard”. Later on, she defended her remark by saying, The only people who will be offended are too retarded to understand it.
Now everyone knows that Coulter is nothing more than an attention seeking gadfly; a woman who made her mark in the world by dressing like a cocktail waitress and spouting off hateful and incendiary things about others (usually liberals) - and it has served her well. She has several best selling books, appears on talk shows, and probably has a small fortune stashed away.
A few weeks ago, she made a “joke” about National Coming Out Day, proclaiming the following Monday as National Disown Your Son Day. Once again proving that she is this generation’s Lenny Bruce - such panache! Such wit!
But let’s get back to the use of the word, retard.
As I stated earlier, only a bully or an uneducated person would use that word without realizing how loaded it really is. Surely, deep down in her heart (if she actually has one), Coulter must realized how hurtful that word is.Then again, maybe she has no clue. Maybe she really is nothing more than a body part, a walking vulva…maybe, when all is said and done, we have to face the truth : Ann Coulter is a cunt.
Or at the very least, an asshole.
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Uncle Paxy’s Rules for Life (first in a possible series).
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Sometimes It’s tough, but try to empathize with others.
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The only kind of snobbery that is tolerable, is coffee snobbery. Become a coffee-snob. Throw away the Maxwell House and indulge in some over priced caffeinated goodness. Eventually, you will grow to appreciate that cup of joe as more than just a morning jolt.
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If you find solace in religion, good for you. Just keep it to yourself.
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If you find solace in atheism, good for you. Just keep it to yourself.
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Enjoy a cocktail after work when you get home, there was a reason our fathers and mothers and grandfathers and grandmother’s did this. Discover that reason for yourself.
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When you get your hands on a DVD, make sure you watch all the extras. And then, make sure you watch the movie with the director’s commentary – it often brings a whole new meaning to the film.
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Try not to brag about anything.
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Indulge in sexual fantasies on a daily basis (but never while driving)…it makes life so much more fun.
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Be nice to senior citizens, they’ve earned the right to be however they are presently.
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Don’t disparage youth. We were all young once, and we all thought we were immortal and supremely intelligent. Life will kick the young ones in the balls soon enough. Allow them their delusions, as you were allowed yours.
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Avoid AM Talk Radio. It’s usually just the rantings of overpaid, angry men and women.
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When you are cooking a meal. Turn on some music and dance in the kitchen. If you are alone, no one will know how foolish you look, if you are with someone, you’ll give them a laugh.
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Try and read a real newspaper at least once a week.
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Try and witness a sunrise at least once a week – it will rock your world, even if you are just driving to work.
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Most people can tell if that smile of yours is authentic or if you are just faking it.
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If you are passionate about something, great! Just keep in mind that others may find your passion less than interesting. In other words, “Your mileage may vary”.
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Keep an open mind when it comes to film. If you’ve never seen a silent film, watch one! If you’ve never seen a Technicolor musical, watch one! If you’ve never seen a slasher film, watch one! If you’ve never seen a porno, watch one! If you’ve never seen a German Expressionistic film, watch one! Then, after you’ve explored all of the genres, your opinion will be much more well rounded.
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Oh, and as always, beware any one giving you advice on the Internet (especially if it is on a blog).
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The Blond Girl
blond girl circa 1967
I went to a lot of concerts when I was younger.
Back in those days, the air was thick with marijuana smoke; people held their lighters or lit matches high in the air and swayed along with the music; and, invariably, you’d spot a blond girl sitting on someone’s shoulders, her arms raised high, her head swaying, her hair flicking like a bull-whip, her voice cutting through the din as she squealed her approval and hoped to catch the eye of the lead singer on stage.
A lot has changed since then. No one smokes pot (at least not in the theaters anymore), no one holds lighters or lit matches high in the air due to safety regulations. But, the blond girl is still there – still holding her arms high, still screaming at the top of her lungs, still seeking attention.Earlier this week, I got to see living legend, Willie Nelson, perform a concert before a relatively sedate crowd. Sure, a few shit-kickers showed up, but for the most part, it was a middle class affair – some people even brought their children. The crowd applauded politely, and even got to their feet a few times when Nelson cranked out some of his more favored tunes.
At one point, during the night, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a young woman seated way down front, constantly jumping up in her seat , raising her arms and screaming out Willie’s name whenever he began strumming his guitar to start a new song. At one point, when the band went into a rather rollicking number, she remained on her feet, throwing her head back, flicking her golden locks in time to the music and generally making a fool of herself.
Probably the most amusing thing she did was while Nelson was playing a medley of upbeat gospel songs, Blond Girl stood up on her seat and started dancing wildly…this was while “In The Sweet Bye and Bye” was being performed. I noticed that after a while, blond girl, would turn her head and look to see if anyone was watching her, and then she’d scream louder, raise her arms higher, and act more buffoonish than before.Still, in spite of this dingbat’s desperate cry for attention, it was sort of reassuring to know that while times have changed, and illegal drugs are no longer allowed at concerts, and lighters are a forbidden form of expression, at least two things remain a constant: Willie Nelson continues to inspire and entertain, and there will always be an obnoxious blond girl trying to catch a singer’s attention from the crowd.
long may she run
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No Ribbons for Aurora
The gun powder had barely settled on the latest American shooting spree when pictures on Facebook started showing up with Batman in silhouette, head bowed, a ribbon covering the left part of the picture. Just after that, a blue ribbon on a black background graphic also popped up. People love their ribbons in the face of a tragedy.
The President called for the American people to keep the victims and their families in their thoughts and prayers. Meanwhile, other politicians of every stripe made statements, offered condolences and expressed shock and outrage over the massacre that had happened in a movie theater on Friday morning.Prayer vigils are scheduled, a day of mourning will (no doubt) occur, the media will continue to pick this story apart until nothing is left of it, and in the end, none of it will matter.
You see, the only thing that is really, truly, honestly going to help put an end to these types of events is strong, sane gun control. Now don’t get your double extra large boxers shorts in a knot, Elmer, I am not saying that we take away all guns; you folks who hunt, or you honest people who carry a pistol, go ahead and keep your substitute for a tiny dick. I am talking about semi-automatic weapons like, say, an AR-15 assault rifle, the same type of weapon that cretin brought with him into the theater in Aurora Colorado. Why on gods green earth would anyone need a gun like that except to kill a lot of people as quickly and efficiently as possible – but thanks to the National Rifle Association, anybody can get their hands on a killing machine like this these days.So, yeah, if you really want to start healing – if you really want to help the families and victims; write to your congressman, call the White House, write a letter to your local newspaper and demand stronger, saner gun laws – skip the prayer, the ironic graphics, and the ribbons – those types of rituals and symbols are not bullet proof.
Likes
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when i was little and sick, my mom used to never let me stay home from school.
on the odd days...
