Thursday, May 25, 2006
Going on Day 5 of no DSL
Earthlink, I hate you. I hate spending money I don't have on Internet Cafe rip-offs. Things I could have blogged about in the past week:
- How much Earthlink sucks.
- The Lost finale.
- How much I hate American Idol.
- Cuchullain vs. Muhammed Ali in Pattaya.
- Not being able to send or receive email.
- Thanks to fucking Earthlink.
- Also, thanks to the SBC-AT&T merger fucking providers down the pipeline.
- Like Earthlink.
- The hatred of labor expressed by wingnuts who celebrate free movement of capital but seek to confine humans.
- Earthlink sux.
- SUSSXxxxxzQ@#@!!@@!@@@@! the big ONNE!!!!111!!!!
- Bye, I am out of time.
PS An attempt to produce something funny in less than 30 seconds: Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the Internet cafe where he had to go spend too much money becuase his Earthlink DSL connection was down alao0w3487q97(*&(*)^! fucker!
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
This is rich ...
Via Dave Neiwert at the invaluable Oricinus, we learn of a semantics war raging between Andrew Sullivan and Hugh Spew-itt over the old-but-recently-exhumed term "Christianist".
Go. Now. Read it all, etc. etc. et. al. ibid. op. cit. pud. enda.
Now, I'm not one to go to bat for Andrew Sullivan normally, but this remark from Hewitt bears scrutiny:
Sullivan objects to the political positions of many evangelicals, but given the widespread support for these positions -- opposition to the judicial imposition of same sex marriage for example -- Sullivan refuses to engage their positions on a case by case basis, and instead invents a new description in an attempt to deligitimize them.
Andrew Sullivan refuses to engage the evangelical (or Christianist, or Dominionist) position on same sex marriage? Is Hewitt talking about the same Andrew Sullivan who has written a fucking 400-page book called "Same-Sex Marriage: Pro & Con"?
Sullivan obviously doesn't need me fighting his battles, nor am I particularly keen to do so ... but, well, sheesh.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Stop it, Michelle. Just stop it.
You're embarrassing yourself. And you're making us all sick to our stomachs. Here's Michelle Malkin on a charming little encounter she had with an NSA security guard today, on a trip to the National Cryptologic Museum in Fort Meade, Md.:
One interesting thing happened worth sharing: When I missed the turn for the museum, I had to drive through the guard booth. Because I officially entered the NSA premises uninvited, I was pulled aside into the parking lot by security. They asked for my driver's license and my Social Security number. And then one security guard looked me straight in the eye, unembarrassed, and asked if I was a citizen.So Michelle's for profiling brown people. We all know that, yada yada yada. But one can be for some distasteful security measure that must be taken (I am not saying I am for profiling, this is just for the sake of argument) - without openly reveling in it. And when that unfortunate, but necessary security measure is taken against you, yourself ... the normal response is not to say, "Thank you, sir, may I have another?"
I couldn't help it. I answered affirmatively and then told him: "I guess I'm not supposed to editorialize, but it is really refreshing to hear a security guy ask that question out loud without apologizing." He and his colleague chuckled. Appreciatively.
My own personal tale: Upon arriving at Honolulu International after being abroad for nearly three years, I was asked by customs officials to accompany them on a little trip to "the room". You know, the one where "that" happens. Most definitely not fun. But also not as horrible as the movies would lead you to believe.
Anyway, while I was obviously unhappy about having my nutsack handled by a very large (but thankfully, very gentle) Samoan man*, I understood why this was happening to me. Namely, that my battered passport showed all kinds of border crossing stamps, from Thailand to India, Japan, Malaysia and elswhere, and then back to Thailand. Exactly what you'd expect to see on the passport of an expat working in Thailand who had to periodically deal with visa issues ... but also what you might see on the passport of somebody moving drugs around, or being otherwise up to no good.
The point being that I understood why I had been red-flagged, and I was okay with that. And I wasn't about to make a case for my "rights" or any such crap ... 'cos I just wanted to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible and with no bruises on my colon.
But was I going to thank the guy with my balls in his hands and his finger up my ass for doing a heckuva job to protect America? THE FUCK I WAS! Like, thank you for singling me out as a model scumbag and anally probing me? Would anybody with a shred of personal dignity do that?
But that's essentially what Malkin did ... obviously over a personal affront much less offensive than what I went through, but still. And her - I don't know, dare we call it self-hatred? - is so enormous that she brags about it on her blog.
Disgusting. And more to the point, pathetic.
As an epilogue, the big customs agent was in fact apologetic to me. Both before the probe - when he said, "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to come with me." - and after, when he said, "I'm sorry about that, but I was just doing my job."
And you know what? I appreciated that.
*Don't be jealous, teh l4m3!
UPDATE: Psychoanalyis from afar, and with no qualifications, is extremely inadvisable. But I can't help it. I am just struck with how the above linked post by Malkin seems to reveal some sort of split personality. Like, there is Michelle, the Filipina ... and Michelle Malkin, the insane, crypto-racist wingnut pundit. And while Michelle, the Filipina might have felt somewhat nonplussed for being so obviously singled out over her non-white appearance, Michelle Malkin, the mainliner of Kool-Aid, was able to completely compartmentalize that experience ... and in fact, view it from a detached perspective as happening to some disembodied "suspicious brown person", and hurray for that!
Like I said, armchair psychoanalysis ... inadvisable. But fun.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
O! Asshat! My Asshat!
So. Better late to the party, then never to arrive … that’s my philosophy. And a pretty handy one, seeing as how I go days between posts and would never get to partake in any of the hip jokes if I subscribed to the momentarian ethos of the blogosphere.
Plus, there’s usually a few half-drunken rappin’ 4tays still laying around to swig from, and some crusty spinach dip.
But it’s one thing for little old lame-ass me to arrive a week or so late to some meme – in this case, bagging on Ed Morrissey’s project to reclaim the phrase “101st Fighting Keyboardists”. It’s quite another for Capped-On Ed hisself and his loyal wingnut seamen [Ewww! – Ed.] to show up a couple of years late to a running joke, then claim it to be “defenestrated” by their tardy commentary.
Writes the Cap’n on his super-duper clever new toy (invented by Tbogg two years ago):
Yesterday we saw some goalpost-moving as the lefty bloggers attempted to equate "chickenhawk" with child molestation -- which again questions why they used it for anything else prior to the formation of the 101st FKs. It's a tactic born of desperation, as they see their favorite namecalling device defenestrated.That comment was in reply to this trenchant analysis by cabinboy Mitch Berg:
It's a good thing I have Cap'n Ed and King on the air with me on the NARN show. They are both very diligent in reminding me that when I slag on leftyblogs that there are exceptions to the rule; when I refer to leftybloggers who've been comedically outmaneuvered as "shrieking like a cagefull of poo-flinging monkeys", both were very conscientious about reminding me that there are exceptions. Josh Marshall, Matt Yglesias, Jeralynn Meritt [who?], Flash [double who?] - they tend to be able to separate the fever from the swamp. ...Capped-On Ed continues with his elaboration on cabinboy Berg’s point:
… namecalling is all these sites have. Writers like Glenn Greenwald, John Aravosis, Peter Beinart have actual argument on their side; they don't need to resort to name-calling to make themselves feel better. We may not agree with them, but we respect them and feel challenged by their arguments -- and they make us better at what we do with that challenge.Well. Color us pwned. You know … !!!!11!!!fourscoreandsevenyearsago!!!1!etc!!! We are so sixth-rate intellects. But let’s respond anyway, with a bullet-point stylee:
Others, however, simply make up slurs and silliness and pass it off as wit. One such example that I have seen recently is a perfect example of this. [Exampleporn! - Ed. Wood] Some sites have now taken to referring to me as Special Ed. [Not this one! – Gein, Ed.] This supposedly sets them apart as intellectuals. …
That's all they've got, these vapid and emotionally stunted people with computers and free time [Uh, we've also got pron - blindEd.], on both sides of the political spectrum. They can't win with argument, so they use invective and silly schoolyard taunts instead. They fill their posts with obscenities [He's fucking on to us! - *&$@#!Ed.] and dance around with delight every time they come up with another taunt. It's the perfect example of why we formed the 101st Fighting Keyboardists [no, um, Tbogg did that two years ago … but carry on – Dept. of Ed.] and adopted the chicken hawk as our mascot. It reveals the intellectual bankruptcy of these very bloggers ... and provokes them into revealing it themselves.
● When one wingnut blogger - out of the hordes who have dumbly endured the “101st Fighting Keyboardists” taunt, originated by Tbogg and perfected by The Editors – finally stumbles, years after the fact, upon the blindingly obvious tactic of embracing an insult and reveling in it to disarm its mocking firepower … it is not a victory. It is a baboon playing with string, accidentally tying a working slip knot.
It is, quite literally, one amongst 1,000 chickenhawks pounding on keyboards for 10 million man-hours finally producing a crappy Petrarchan sonnet ... that only really works if you count the near-rhymes. It is validation of the old adage that even a stopped clock tells the right time … only instead of “twice a day”, it’s “once in two years.”
For the past few days, we've watched the jabbering, jostling wingnutosphere marvel over the mundane strategery of reclaiming an instrument of mockery. It has been not a little reminiscent of “2001: A Space Odyssey” – with Capped-On Ed in the role of the ape who picks up the bone … the howling primates played by a cast of thousands pinging stupidly away … Queer Nation as the monolith … Kos as Hal … Tbogg as Dave … Michelle Malkin as, I don’t know, Gary Lockwood or something.
● We use schoolyard taunts against Capped-On Ed because people who play pretend dress-up sailor are practically begging for it. When they are also Midwestern call center managers in real life, they might as well just direct deposit their milk money into our IRA accounts.
● When cabinboy Berg refers to “leftybloggers who've been comedically outmaneuvered”, it is worth noting yet again that it was a “leftyblogger” who invented the very funny and useful (if day-before-day-before-yesterday) construction “101st Fighting Keyboardists”*. Not Capped-on Ed, certainly not Mitch Berg. So claiming to have the comedy goods on said leftybloggers as if you had willingly hoisted yourself on your own petard for everybody’s amusement - is akin to Adolph Eichmann demanding credit for “Springtime for Hitler”.**
What’s more – and this lesson ought to be heeded by Berg and Capped-on Ed and every other comedy-challenged wingnut who has tried so earnestly and tortuously and scantily to dissect humor in the weeks since Stephen Colbert hit the "Bombed-Heard-Round-the-World":
Saying something isn’t funny can actually be funny. But only if you say it in a manner which is generally accepted as funny. If you can accomplish that feat, people might even begin to regard you as funny. And after regarding you as funny … perhaps they might even begin to consider you as qualified to judge whether what other people say is funny or isn’t funny. The upshot, if such an unlikely chain of events plays out? That thing you were saying wasn’t funny, way back in the beginning … may be regarded by people as actually not funny!
BUT … and this is a big “BUT”*** … if you choose the decidedly more treacherous route, and attempt to say something isn’t funny without you, yourself, actually being funny in the process of saying that particular something isn’t funny … all that will happen is people will look at you funny.
Got it? Good. Now go fuck yourselves.
* Actually, it was “Keyboarders” originally; “Keyboard Kommandos” in its final form.
** Ooh! Godwin! Ward Churchill! Zero Mostel! Passed off as wit!
*** Saying “big but” at any given time is funny to six-year-olds; perhaps a starting off point for would-be wingnut humorists? Like, “baby steps”?
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
What's cookin' down at the Circle J?
Jesus-H-Fucking-Christ-Getting-Anally-Double-Penetrated-By-A-Strap-On-Tag-Team-of-Ann-Coulter-and-Amy-Sullivan ... I'm glad I didn't have my shit together enough these past few days to participate in this colossal wankfest.
Sorry 'bout the lack of posting
Uh, not much else to say. The hair of the dog ate my homework.
Monday, May 08, 2006
ParrotLine 'Circular Firing Squad' edition
Kevin Drum is so boring ...
UPDATE: Go to Liberal Avenger's space age bachelor pad to memorialize your dying words.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Your sniglet for the day
As a side note, for those of you who are either too young or too old to recall the meteoric rise to fame of Rich Hall and his cheesy "sniglets" - and their equally meteoric fall to obscurity - there is even a sniglet for your condition: "luckyasfuckitude". Thankfully, we no longer call funny made-up words "sniglets". In that sense, we can have our "truthiness" and eat it, too.
But back to "parodynoia". In the wake of the AnnieAngel Affair, it bears repeating just how crazy a place these here datanets really are, full of scoundrels and liars and cheats. What is real and what is not? Is Gary Ruppert really a righteously misguided fool ... or a deep cover parodist? What about the Right Brothers?
And if we have cause to suspect the above personalities of pulling our collective leg, how long is it before we cast a suspicious glance at the likes of Pastor Swank and Adam Yoshida*?
Or, for that matter, John Hinderaker and Jeff Goldstein?
Could they all be parody? Could it - the datanets, itself - be one giant joke being played on us, the earnest rubes who need big warning labels on our humor to identify it as such ... who never quite "got" what Andy Kaufmann was up to ... who are still gullible enough to believe in something called "truth in advertising"?
To take it even further ... are all of you in on the joke? Is it only me who is playing the naif here, while the rest of you bastards chuckle secretly at my gormlessness?
You see where this is going? How this line of inquiry can only end badly?
Hence, "parodynoia" ... your (un)sniglet for the day.
*Who, by the way, has decided to progressively indent the posts on his blog as if they were part of a comment thread, for some reason known only to genocidal Canadian shut-ins.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
What a tangled web we weave,
when we practice to cobaggishly
find offense at everything
I'm pretty sure that the number of people who find Ann Bartow pleasant to be around can be counted on the fingers of one hand.
If you happen to be a leprous machinist who likes to play with fireworks, owes big money to the Mob and climbs 8,000-meter peaks without oxygen.
So ... Ann Bartow is so hypersensitive that ...
Have at it,