Tear Down The Walls

Wow. This far? I was over it that week. You've seriously taken it to that level?

And people think I'm the one who needs help. Why, I don't know, when there are so many others out there who make even me seem the picture of Normal Rockwell America.

Boggles the mind, really.

I found it funny how you chose to treat me as if I were some sort of child, when you've delved far deeper into that well that I ever have. And I'm the immature one in all of this? I'm sure that's true in some parallel dimension where different choices were made and what not, but in our reality, that's simply not the case.

I said what I said. I still stand by what I said. But to be quite honest with you, I'm past it. I mean, really. People in this are taught me a valuable lesson early on: There's no sense kicking a dead horse. I have bigger and better things to run my mouth about than old news.

Oh, wait, that's why you decided to get yourself involved in this at all, isn't it? The phrase "old news?" Yeah, that's the one. The over-reaction - it burns us. If that's a good enough reason to run off and pull 9th grade stunts and only cost yourself money in the end, I guess you're entitled to it.

The net effect, though? I obviously haven't shut up, and quite honestly, I don't think I ever will until I draw my last breath and can speak no more. And I don't think that even you could be so stupid as to hustle my fate along a bit, would you? No, unlike you, I'll give you at least SOME credit. You're a child, yes, but not a complete idiot.

I'm sure you thought your night out with me was fun, too. Oh, lordy, did I ever enjoy that. There you sat, pretending that you're someone and something you're not, trying to assert some kind of dominance over me like you have that kind of pull.

Sorry. Frayed Knot.

Do I fear you? No. Should I? No. Why? Any move you make seals your own fate, and I don't think you're stupid enough to throw away what you have going for you. So, honestly, the only real solution for you is to just let it go.

It's trivial. It's insignificant. It's nothing. It's a dead horse: Why kick it? You don't see me wasting my time, money and energy on it, do you? Nope. This account was free, and it didn't cost me a dime or much effort to sit here and type from the comfort of my own home, that's for sure. Why you insist on harping on the issue is beyond me.

I let it go a long time ago. Why don't you?

Find Out What It Means To Me

Wow. My family is a piece of work.

My beef with my Aunt Judy aside, it would seem that more of my family are taking a leap-of-faith swan dive off the 200m stupid platform into the empty kiddie pool of what the fuck. As I've stated before, I believe that it's a sick, sorry thing when a person actually shows more love for an imaginary man in the sky they can't prove exists without the word "faith" than they do for an actual, corporeal, tangible family member. These kinds of people actually sever ties with family members over religious differences.

This is why the empty pool is called what the fuck.

Even with all the knowledge I've tried to amass over the course of my lifetime, I still can't seem to fathom this phenomenon. And since we're talking Christianity, I might as well use a metaphor that Christians can identify with. Somewhat...

It's like there's a little invisible gnome, we'll call him Chompsky, living in the space between my brain and my various inputs (eyes, nose, et al). Chompsky's job, it would seem, is to decide what information is allowed to pass him by and carry on its merry way towards my memory and what is absolute rubbish. In a way, he's my brain's co-pilot. At any rate, for the rubbish, Chompsky has a little mallet that he uses to bat away the incoming bullshit, preventing my brain from becoming a sewer of useless, baseless crap.

A person who chooses God over Family must be rubbish, because Chompsky won't allow the concept to enter my internal database. Nope, no sir. Not a chance in hell. This is because Chompsky knows that, despite anything and everything that can come between people, the bond of family is a trump card when all other cards are on the table.

Imaginary men, mallets or no, should not trump that which you can see, feel, recognize, understand, communicate directly with, and most importantly of all, actually love.

And yet members of my family can't seem to understand this. Their fanatical devotion to the Magic Sky Pixie has led them to cut ties with me. They and their friends most likely think that I'm an embarrassment to the family, since I don't play ball in the House of the Invisible Cloud Monkey. To them, I am a blemish, a cancer, one that can be treated with the tried-and-true Christian throwback cure called "out of sight, out of mind."

I'm the embarrassment? I'm not the one clinging to the delusion that some omnipotent-yet-impotent super being even exists, let alone is more important that what's right the fuck in front of you. I'm not the one who condemns for stupid ideological reasons based on said magic space wizard. I'm not the one who professes unconditional love, yet administers unabashed hate because a 1600 year old story book told me that something isn't right.

I grew out of that phase. I filed that kind of nonsense in the fiction section. I know where my priorities are: They're with my family, my friends, and most of all, focused on my son. Where are yours? Well, you might as well forget family, because you've made your choice abundantly clear. Kissing the non-existent ass of the Amazing Man Upstairs is way more important than any family you might have.

Yep, that's right. When you consider excluding one, you open the door to excluding them all. Yoda said it best: "Once you turn down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

Rachel, I hope there really is a Hell, because I want you to enjoy your trip there. And as the demon bus to Flamey Town rides past me, I'll smile and wave, and know that you and Aunt Judy are on your way to the very place that you people believe that bad folks should go first class next to Pat Robertson and every fucking Pope that has ever held office.

Forsaking your family is bad. I don't need any god to tell me that much is true...

9/12/09 - The Day The Earth Stood Stupid

I'm just going to let the video speak for itself.

Once, I was proud to be an American. Now? Not so much...

Dear North Korea:

Please kindly shut the fuck up and sit back down.

Really. This is childish and annoying. Not to mention you're trying to steal the thunder of the Iranian people.

Wait your turn, we promise we'll treat you as Internationally Relevant at the first available opportunity.

Until then, though, please try to behave. We know its difficult, being an isolated bunch of loonies, but we figure even the most immature of nations can grow up a bit and wear big-boy pants.

Sincerely,
Eric Jacobson, speaking on behalf of the rest of the world.

What Have You Become?

OK. For argument's sake, let's just say there is a God. Hypothetically, in my case, but for this post, we'll assume that there is, in fact, an invisible man in the sky with an illegitimate Hebrew Zombie as a son, who is worthy of singing songs to every Sunday. Right.

Now, the Bible is what it is: A collection of "testaments," most of which were not written anywhere near extant to the lifetime of Joshua of Nazereth, that is the only known record of any sort of divine acts. It neglects most of the life of Joshua, from his formative years up until his early 30's. Despite this huge omission, he is the central figure of the book's second half.

In this half, Joshua makes the claim that he "will come again." OK, fair enough.

Now, take a look at Christianity today. They argue amongst themselves about who is and isn't a "True Christian." Most of those that readily and vehemently claim that title are the hardcore "Genesis is the story of Creation," "Jesus Will Come Again Soon," "Revelation Times Are Almost Upon Us" nutbars. They're the ones who want Genesis taught as fact in schoos (completely dumbing them to natural science in the process), who think that America is some sort of "Christian Nation" where we should follow a Christian doctrine of laws, and who honestly believe that Joshua will return in their lifetime.

People like Pat Robertson. Here's a man who gets on TV day after day and spews nothing but hatred and bile. Let's see him in action, commenting on educational professionals he sees as radicals:

People like those who think that this woman - a wannabe beauty queen with a chip on her shoulder who thinks she can fake her way through politics - should be the leader of the free world:

People who are inspired by Christianity to create things like this abomination:

People like Scott Roeder, the man who murdered Dr. George Tiller - IN THE MAN'S OWN CHURCH.

Now explain something to me: If Joshua were what he claimed to be and indeed were able to come back, WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE WANT TO?

Why the hell would he want followers like these people? Why would he want to come back when the core of his teachings has been warped and twisted by the power-hungry mind of man for almost two millenia, and has created followers like these nimrods?

And you're all believing in the same God? You people need to get your ducks in a row internally before you even think of invading anything on a national scale, like education or law.

True Christians you are not. Joshua would probably laugh at you, wave his hand, and condemn you all to your deserved fate in fire and torment.

Hypothetically speaking, of course.

If Joshua is waiting to come back, he's not going to do so with lunatics like you people running about claiming to be in his graces. He'd be daft and outright embarrassed, I would think! I mean, look at this lot! What the fuck! How do you claim that God created and loves all things, and then turn around trumpeting his name in tandem with hatred and violence?

Sorry, kids, but I'm pretty sure even Joshua - OK, Jee-zuss - would have you all put away.

Stop ruining it for everyone else: The True Christians who believe in love and tolerance and changing with the times, people of other faiths who have every right to co-exist with one another in equality, people who think differently than you about the God problem - that's us, Atheists! - and people who's ideas and moral structures don't quite gel with yours in general.

These people need to stop. Seriously. It's been old for a very, very long time, and Humanity has about had it, I think...

Newt Sensation

Call it NewtFAIL.

Former Speaker of the House and still-obnoxious pundit Newt Gingrich (@newtgingrich), is all butt-hurt over the fact that Twitter allows people to tag his name onto things he doesn't like. Now, because he feels that he was duped into agreeing to an EULA that he claims didn't mention that this could happen (even though, by its nature, its a natural and obvious function of Twitter), he and his pundit buddy Saul Anuzis (@sanuzis) - who himself sounds like an evil Bizarro Egyptian High Priest - are threatening to sue (FT).

Somebody call the WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAmbulance, and make sure they bring enough manpower to cart Newt's fat ass to the Whine-ery.

Newt, you fucking twat: You should KNOW BY NOW how Twitter works, seeing as how you love it so much. It's Twitter, not rocket science! Any idiot can plainly see how Twitter functions, crystal clear as a cloudless blue sky, just by looking at their preferred Twitter client. FAIL.

And now, to help further Newt's ire and angst, I present to you a handy batch of "canned" tweets for you all to post on Twitter, thus further angering him and making him do many more silly things that Republicans do when they don't get their way. They also include the #efca hash tag, just because the EFCA ticks Newt off even more. Just copy and paste into your favorite Tweeting interface! First off, a suggestion by Wonkette:

Join @newtgingrich for Nazi-themed gay child rape party @ his mom’s house

And now, some from my earlier escapades:

Breaking News: @newtgingrich announces "Specter is my Homeboy," will switch parties after his 5 o'clock colonic. #efca

I totally caught @sanuzis and @newtgingrich snogging at FOX News. Talk about ewwwwwwwww... #efca

Hey! @newtgingrich wants to sue Twitter! @newtgingrich is also the top supporter of gay marriage! @newtgingrich even likes Jon Stewart! #efca

Dd you know that @newtgingrich loves Stem Cell Research? @newtgingrich is also a staunch environmentalist! #efca

And @newtgingrich thinks GWB is a retarded cowboy! @newtgingrich supports all of the Obama administration's policies, too!

Yeah, that'll do quite nicely. Now, let's show Newt what real Americans can do when they organize!

Boycott 2: Electric Boogaloo

Scroll down a bit, and you'll see the prequel.

You know, I'm not really surprised. Of all the people who've talked to me about Corey's situation, only one has held the opposite belief. They accused me of being nosey, butting into other people's lives, and a bunch of other useless drivel that you'd expect from someone who would defend a heinous act.

The point is this: I don't care how you try to justify it. What Corey did was selfish and oh-so-very wrong on so many levels. He's taking advantage of the genuine sympathy shown by other people and using their generosity to further his own ends. The money they give, they give for Chloe.

Not for Corey to order a Yuengling.

Once I learned what happened, I was sickened. Here's a guy I've called one of my best friends for well over 16 years, and he's doing this? And he did this WHILE CHLOE WAS ALIVE. He took money meant for her bills and used it to get his buzz on.

How the fuck can you possibly justify that?!?

The only correct answer is, you absolutely can't.

I don't care how much stress the situation puts you under. Anyone - especially a child - dying is NO FUCKING EXCUSE to take money donated to them (and them ALONE) and use it to get drunk.

Don't tell me about stress. Don't tell me about depression. Don't tell me about how it was only a few bucks, it wouldn't matter.

I may never understand the horror of losing a child - Hell I don't even know if I'm really a father yet. But I DO understand that losing a child is no excuse to behave like this. People won't simply "understand" why you're using Chloe's money to get yourself a beer. They'll think "Hey, that's money for Chloe's expenses. You shouldn't be using it like that."

And you know what? That's EXACTLY what everyone thinks. It's not just me. I'm not doing it for personal attention. What can I possibly gain from pointing this out? Corey hasn't done anything wrong to me, so I have no motive for petty revenge. You know what this is about? This is about DOING THE RIGHT GODDAMNED THING.

Now, let me make this perfectly clear: I am IN NO WAY demeaning Chloe's life and memory. As I said before, no child should ever have to endure the painful nightmare that is any type of cancer, let alone just Lukemia. It wasn't fair to her that she developed this condition. It wasn't fair to her that she was robbed of being a happy, healthy little girl. It wasn't fair to her that she didn't get to grow up, play with other kids, go to school, find a career, fall in love, get married, have kids of her own, grow old, have grandkids, maybe even some great-grandkids, live out her life in peace and happiness and die as most folks do.

It also wasn't fair for Corey to take money given to support her and head to the bar to get himself a cold one.

Think about it this way: All those things taken away from Chloe? Corey will experience them. But he'll have to do it knowing that he leeched of a little girl - his own daughter - when she needed the help the most, both before and after she died.

How is that fair to Chloe?

This isn't about me. This isn't about you. This is about Chloe, and for once, being fair to her, and to the people who gave of themselves for her - the people who's kindness Corey abused.

Enough: Boycott the Hooven Benefit This Weekend

I'm sorry, Corey, but this has to be said, and I'm going to be the one to say it.

First of all, I want to clarify that I am in no way demeaning, slandering, or otherwise badmouthing the life, death, and memory of Chloe Hooven. What happened to her, no child should ever endure, but the sad truth is, some do. Life sucks like that. It's wrong, but it happens.

But, at some point, you have to draw a line, Corey. I'm drawing that line right now.

I'm asking everyone to boycott the Chloe Hooven "benefit" this weekend at Mel's Inn (formerly Pete N' Mel's) in Morrisdale, PA.

Yes, BOYCOTT.

Sadly, Corey, you haven't been 100% with everyone, have you. You took one too many trips to the well. The can? That was the last straw. There's no justification for behavior like that, dude. None. Not even the tragic death of your daughter. In fact, even trying to explain your actions within that context only makes it worse, man.

I'm intentionally dancing around saying what Corey has done, mostly because I want you all to ask him about it. "What's the deal with the can, Corey?" "What did you do with the can, Corey?" These are questions I'd personally like answers to.

If you do go, go only to find out what I'm talking about. Don't pay the cover, and don't stay long. Show Mel some love and buy at least one drink, but as for the benefit, just say no. The bands involved aren't making any money, so they're not losing.

Yeah, I know. I'm telling people to not show up at shows being played by my friends. I'm sorry guys, but once you know what's really going on, you'll also get where I'm coming from on this. Ben, Chris, and especially Greg: I know I said you're not losing anything by playing these shows, but once it all comes out in the wash, you really are losing, and it sucks, because you guys are just trying to do something good.

You're just being used. There is a good reason why we said no to Corey, and Corey knows exactly what that reason is. It's his responsibility to tell people, and to ultimately go down with the very ship he himself torpedoed.

I wish I could say that the heart's in the right place on this one, but at its core, it's all stone and yeast pee, and that's just not right at all. I just can't keep (totally) quiet about this.

Repent, Corey Lee Hooven. It'll take a while to be forgiven, but the sooner you start, the sooner it'll happen...

Caturday - I Has It

Before I get down to today's Caturday fun, I couldn't pass up adding this little nugget of joy to the mix. Check this guy out. His name is Mark Douglas Jones, and he's been charged with hit and run after running his girlfriend over with his truck (FT). What sucks for him is, she's since died of her injuries, and now he's probably going to face more serious charges to boot.

First of all, how the hell did this guy get a girlfriend?!? And second, if he managed to get a girlfriend at all, don't you think he'd do everything he could to keep her? I mean, it can't be easy for this winner to find a woman. I hate to think of what she looked like...

Anyway, on with teh Caturday! The World Cat Congress is meeting in Houston, TX this week (FT). There's a World Cat Congress?!? How awesome is that!











Have a Happy Caturday, Everyone!

Boooooooooooooooooooooooo

What is the obsession with all things Britney? Why do we care? Her life is a trainwreck, her music sucks ass, and her choices in men aren't the greatest, either. For example, here we have Kevin "Cletus the Fat Redneck" Federline getting booed offstage for his pitiful rapping - at his own birthday party (FT):

Awkward...

Aftercomers

Google for Jesse James Campbell. A week ago, that name was hard to find on the Internet. And now, it's everywhere. And everywhere you look, if there's a comments section, it's full of the same thing: Grab your torch and pitchfork, we'll have a hangin' at dawn.

Most interesting is one found down the list a piece: A GoDuBois Forum Post on the subject, with some lively debate, including this quote:

Jesse James Campbell...

parents: think twice when you name your kids please

Har. Appropriately enough, the thread is titled "Mentally Unstable." Gee, ya think? What's really sad is, even in this local area, there are probably quite a few more kids like Jesse who haven't pulled something like this yet.

And speaking of Har, here's a funny one: Jesse has made his way to People You Will See In Hell. Before this morning, I never knew this site existed. And since I don't really believe in Hell, I can't say that Jesse will go. But if there is one, I bet he's got a reserved seat on the special bus.

Blogs are finally starting to pick up on the whole story more, as is the case with this post at Dreamin' Demon. Plus, there are all kinds of news stories with details of what really went down, mostly send-ups of the third link, a generic blanket UPI story. Turns out that Jesse had taken his mother's computer and, not wanting to return it and fearing his mother would send him back to prison (go figure, kid had a prior and did State time), he decided to kill her.

And not one link to this site from any of these. Bummer.

Brilliant. For all of you anonymous people who deem it necessary to defend such a soulless, moronic subhuman, you're just as brilliant.

Meanwhile, Jesse's preliminary hearing has been continued to April 30th(links here and here). I'd say this kid is headed straight for the table with the tubes. There isn't a jury on this earth that wouldn't have him put to death.

In short, he's fucked.

But what about Kacey? From what I've read this morning, she took the clothes, which Jesse had wadded up into a trash bag, and tossed them into the dumpster. That sticks her with a few charges right there, and while they're not Murder 1, they're fairly serious on their own. I'm sure there will be some form of Evidence Tampering charge, as well as some sort of Obstruction charge. Accessory to Murder 1? With her not being present for the whole thing (she was under the impression that he was just out getting cigarettes, even though he told her he was going to kill his mother before he left), I doubt she'd be tagged as an accomplice.

What she did and didn't believe at that point has yet to be fully determined. It's a pretty safe bet that, as soon as I can talk to her, I will, and hopefully she can give us a clearer picture of what the hell was going on in the days leading up to this circus. Until then, though, it's my guess that she'll be the star witness for what will most likely be a local media spectacle of a trial, and what might snag itself a little national media coverage in the process...

UPDATE: 2:40pm - The story has made a newsgroup posting, oddly enough on alt.drugs.psychedelics, found via Google Groups. Whoever this Rob Cypher is, he's linked to Jesse's MySpace page, encouraging people to leave comments. However (and this is no surprise), there are no new comments: He's not there to add new friends, and its set to only receive comments from friends.

Oiled As A Diesel Train

While Houtzdale is the place where I was raised, it is not my home.

Who would want to call this little shit-nowhere town home? Everything here revolves around two key body parts: Lips and Fists. The last few months have inspired me to give some attention to the latter.

In Houtzdale, the measure of a man isn't in his job, his family, or what good he does for society in general. No, the true measure of a man in this redneck-wannabe Huh?ville is much, much more primitive: Your status is based on who's asses you've kicked, how many you've kicked, or how many times you've had your ass handed to you.

Like any kid, I got in my share of fights. I won some and lost more, but in the end, I'm just a nonviolent person at heart. Yes, sometimes I rage, but what human doesn't? I have the presence of mind to keep that primordial, wild part of the human animal at bay, suppressing it in favor of a more refined, somewhat socially acceptable demeanor. What does that make me?

Ask any Houtzdale "tough guy" and they'll tell you that makes me a "pussy." And simply because these "tough guys" can beat my ass, they think it somehow makes them better than me.

FAIL

To understand this mindset, you have to understand the Houtzdale Drunk, because 99 times out of 100, their muscles come from the large quantities of alcohol they've consumed since they got home from work, if they even work at all.

Around 5pm, these hot shots show up at your local bar and proceed to order the first of what will be many bottles of domestic piss that they, of course, think is the best beer out there. First of all, for fuck's sake, that's not beer! Good beer isn't yellow: it has at least SOME good brown color to it. Good beer is also not watered down to the consistency of soda. Right there, these guys have lost valuable style points.

These tough guys, thinking they're (insert deity here)'s gift to women, will most likely start hitting on the pretty girls in the bar. And it's not just limited to female patrons, either: bar and wait staff are all potential targets of their beer-induced Casanova-ism. When they're shot down, they'll return to the bar, and as buddies begin to flow in and get a buzz on, they'll strike up conversations about their favorite subject in the whole world: kicking ass.

"Well, I beat this guy's ass, beat the fuck out of this other guy; I remember this one time I was kicking this guy's teeth in and... Oh, that pussy, I don't know how many times I've punched that fucker..." It really goes on and on. It's almost as if all they know how to do is drink beer, get shot down by women and fight people. After a few rounds of this, and now with wingmen in tow, they'll go back to trying to impress upon the ladies how much they can "rock their world" with cliche pickup lines and drunken hugging.

Denied by the women that Budweiser tells them they deserve, they get cranky, and when they get cranky, guess what they want to do: Kick some ass. Surprised? Neither is anyone else, really. What these tough guys will do is find someone in the bar whom they figure won't be able to beat their ass, and go pick a fight with them for whatever stupid reason they can dream up. Yep, they'll pick on someone weaker than them (and yes, I've been that weaker guy a number of times, though actual fights resulting from those situations are really quite a rare breed) intentionally, mostly because they know (despite the alcohol's amplification of their already retarded minds) that they can't lose in that situation.

Barring that, the tough guy will most likely pick a fight with someone who randomly bumps them, accidentally spills their drink, or even a guy who manages to start up a conversation with a girl that shot him down earlier in the night. If this scenario doesn't pan out, though, and no fights happen, then our friend the tough guy will find another outlet for his frustrations: Local Fat Chicks.

Yep, they've had so many brews and warped their minds around their own failures so badly that they'll resort to chubby chasing. Since the hot girls won't give them the time of day, and bigger girls around here are desperate as hell to have ANY man, toughy boys will, at the end of the night, start grinding with albino milk duds, their confidence in their attractiveness to the opposite sex renewed, albeit impaired by what has now become an over-a-12-pack night.

If they get to take Moby Dud home and get some play, the cycle then starts over. Work (or PlayStation if they don't work), then bar. This time, there's the addition of the story of his most recent sexual conquest, although the female lead is recast as someone less Mama Cass and more Reese Witherspoon. But again, the outcome is the same.

Drinking, fights, and trying to get laid. The lives of too many people around my area, and sadly, around the nation.

They'd find it hard to believe that I have a steady girlfriend, a (step)son, I get laid on a regular basis, and that I make a decent living doing things that I love to do. Why? Because I'm a "pussy," and there's no way a "pussy" like me could possibly have a better life than someone who can kick my ass. Well, tough guy, too bad. I like my life, and yes, I think it's better than yours. I'm not obsessed with kicking someone's ass every time the mood hits me. I pride myself on being refined enough to use the head on my shoulders instead of the fists below them. It's all about staying above.

But hey. If you want to stay down below, be my guest.

You Fucked Up

No, the decline of the modern Record Industry didn't start with Metallica's whining about Napster. No, it started long before that, and even goes back to the very beginnings of recorded music itself.

Via Fark (FT) comes this Blender article detailing the 20 Biggest Fuck-ups in Recording Industry history, and wow, are these some glaring scars if I've ever seen them. Of course, Napster is mentioned as #1, but there are some choice brain farts in there as well, proving once and for all that record executives have their heads up their asses.

01-31-07: The Day Boston Freaked Out, Big Time

Blog post not withstanding, I'd like to point out that today is also my mother's 60th birthday, and she doesn't look or act a day over 40. Seriously. I'm totally not kissing her ass right now, I mean it. My mom is a hell of an awesome person, and over the years she (and my dad, equally as awesome) has done a lot more for me than any mom should for their kid. I love you, Mom. Happy Birthday!

It was a harmless thing, really. More or less a primitive Lite Brite with magnets on the back. A simple, illuminated picture of a simple, foul-mouthed character from one hell of a hillarious cartoon show for grown-ups.

A marketing firm tasked with promoting a movie based on said cartoon hired two performance artists to hang a number of these Lite Brite knockoffs around the city of Boston, as they had done for a number of other major cities nationwide. Hundreds of these harmless devices hung in obtuse spots in these cities for two weeks, glowing warmly while they shot the finger at people passing them by.

And no one said a word until one Boston commuter, obviously drunk on the government-spawned paranoia about "tur'rests" and "enemies of freedom" and other things the Bush Administration wants you to be afraid of while it pilfers the taxpayers' money, had a fit of panic and called the Boston Police.

What happened next has been called laughable by most, embarrassing to those involved, and to this very day, still called a necessary reaction by the very people who overreacted in the first place. The Boston Mooninite Bomb Scare. It happened one year ago today (Fark Thread).

Yep, a little green dude flipping the bird nearly brought the City of Boston to a standstill, and showed the world just how badly the US Government has messed with the heads of its citizens.

But for some reason, it only happened in Boston. In several other cities around the country, dozens of similar devices had been hung as part of the geurrilla marketing campaign behind ATHF:MFFT. Out of the dozen or so cities involved, only Boston flipped its lid. Not even terror-prone New York City so much as flinched.

Peter Berdovsky and Sean Stevens were arrested, and when they gave their first post-incident press conference, they pulled a fast one on the media and kept the topic of conversation strictly to Hairstyles of the 70s. Hairstyles of the 70s! Genius! Of course, this didn't make BPD or Homeland Security very happy, but what were they going to do? They just spent millions in taxpayer money to assess and eliminate the threat of a few Lite Brites with vulgar little dudes on them.

The guys got off with community service, and Turner got a little free publicity for the movie out of it in the end. Boston, to this day, maintains that, if given the same situation to do over again, they'd do it just like they did the first time: Act completely irrational because they're terrified little children, afraid of the terrorism boogieman. They've allowed themselves to be told what's right and wrong by Good King Georgie, and as a result, they've made complete asses of themselves.

And hey, come to think of it, that exposed a serious tactical flaw in a major US city's terrorism defense and response plans: YOU JUMP AT THE DROP OF A HAT. You might want to fix that, Boston. Terrorists aren't just stupid, backwards Arabs ignorant of the modern world, you know...

2007: Taking Out The Trash

For my first "Year in Review" post, I want to take a moment and be a complete and total asshole (with some help from The Boston Globe). Why? Because these people deserved it when they were alive, and they most certainly deserve to be remembered as such now that they're worm food. Hope the worms have some decent cuttlery and evolve some serious teeth, because these two piles of human dung are going to be tough, tough, tough to decompose...

Leona Helmsley, 87, died August 20th, 2007 - If you ever needed a reason why the usually-canine term of "bitch" is applied to human women, then Helmsley was that reason. This money grubbing whore ran a $5 billion real estate and hotel empire, but apparently that wasn't enough. She went on trial for tax evasion in 1989.

A former housekeeper quoted Helmsley as saying "We don't pay taxes, only little people pay taxes." Well, Leona, at least we're little people and not giant bitches like you were.

And just look at that mugshot right there. Nasty, isn't it? It's like Tammy Fae Messner (who also died this year, but isn't anywhere near being badmouthed by me) was possessed by Satan and had a child with my next "honoree," Jerry "I'm a Big Fat Christian Douchebag" Falwell.

The world is a much better place without you, Leona. Rot in hell.

The Rev. Jerry Falwell, 73, died May 15th, 2007 - And then, there's this asswipe. And boy, did he fall well, right when we needed him to the most: Before the 2008 election. This man thought it was perfectly fine to ignore the fact that the Constitution provides for the Seperation of Church and State and try to mobilize Christians into a political force so they could force their so-called 'morals and values' onto an unsuspecting and unwilling America.

Apparently, he didn't get the memo that Theocracies don't work. Well, now we don't have to worry about his fat ass taking us back to the Dark Ages, when Religion was the perfect excuse for idiotic ideals like mysogeny, patriarchy, racism, religious intolerance and general ignorance to the way the world works (science, not that stupid ass Intelligent Design/Creationism in Disguise).

Now that Fatass Falwell is dead, the rest of the clear-thinking world can rejoice and party in the streets like it's 1999, not 999 like Falwell wanted. Fuck him, fuck his ideals, and fuck his Christian Coalition. Good riddance.

Rot in hell, Reverend. Maybe you and Leona can hook up while you're both down there...

Grandpa Ruins Christmas

How selfish can an old codger get? Selfish enough to make a complete ass of himself and ruin his grandkids' Christmas, that's how. And you'd best believe there's video, but with NSFW language, so get those headphones on. Link, Fark Thread, and away we go...

Angry Grandpa Ruins Christmas - Watch more free videos

Way to go, Grandpa...

An Open Letter To The Borough of Philipsburg, PA

So, an entire summer of nothing, and then, suddenly, three tickets in five days? What, do your CEOs only work certain months, like when you're desperate for revenue?

If you think I'm paying these tickets, you have another thing coming.

And what are you going to do, suspend my license? Yeah, that'll solve the problem.

You people need to seriously get your act together. You expect your residents to shell out $25 a clip for parking tickets? HA! Let me guess: You need to pay off that brilliant Front Street renovation, don't you. Dipped a little too far into the budget for that, did we?

Listen to me, and listen good. My girlfriend lives here in this building. She has an 11 month old son. And the closest free parking available is blocks away. What you're telling me is, we either have to bundle up and carry a fairly large (but not obese) toddler several blocks in the middle of Central PA's winter weather, or we have to run several blocks, bring our vehicle back here, and fight with the people trying to park in these same spots for Representative Conklin's office, right? We have no choice, because a resident with no off-street parking has no business PARKING IN A NON-METERED SPOT IN FRONT OF HER APARTMENT.

Look. You people are a joke. You can't even hire a Borough Manager without squabbling amongst yourselves. How do you expect to run an entire town when you people let your petty personal bullshit get in the way of actually accomplishing anything? You just had to make a circus out of the situation with John Knowles and make a big deal out of hiring someone new, only to pick up someone who came with controversy already installed.

How much did you spend on Front Street? $2 million? Money well spent, eh? No, not hardly. So Front Street now looks like Bellefonte, minus the hills. And what's that going to do, hmm? Yeah, it looks nice, and it'll be a while before you have to repair it again. But what about the rest of the town?

Still looks like a festering redneck hellhole to me, kids.

And what financial benefits was fixing Front Street supposed to bring? I don't see any businesses stampeding over each other to get any of the many available storefronts. Nope, just looks like Bellefonte without the hills to me, and only for four blocks. The rest of the town? Still looks like it did in 1985. It showed its age pretty badly back then, and how do you think it looks after 22 years without any real effort to correct or stifle it?

Looks like Front Street used to. But hey, Front Street looks good, so money well spent, right? Right. Pat yourselves on the back.

Meanwhile, Philipsburg simply can't afford a police department, can it. Couldn't waste $2 million on a police department when we can make Front Street look like Bellefonte, could we? Glad to see you have taxpayer money priorities lined up there, kids.

Hello. Wake up. You live and work in a SEVERELY ECONOMICALLY DEPRESSED REGION. Looking to your past isn't going to save your future. Yes, Philipsburg has minor historical significance. But that's pretty much limited to anything with "Rowland" in its name. And don't even get me started on how you (the owners) and the board of directors at the Rowland have fucked up that gem. The Rowland is the best asset you people have at your disposal, and you're letting it stagnate, and the whole time, it's going deeper and deeper into debt.

But hey, Front Street looks nice, doesn't it? You bought some pretty Xmas lights and banners, and you're really, really proud of it, aren't you?

You don't need my $75. What you need is for all of you to be fired, with prejudice, and replaced with people who can actually manage a town like this without some stupid pet project that will blow up in their faces. Yes, the Front Street project WILL BLOW UP IN YOUR FACE. What seemed like a nice idea at the time will come back to haunt you down the road.

When your pipe dreams of a historical revival burst, and Philipsburg is finally swallowed by the sprawl of State College (and yes, that will eventually happen, give it two decades), your stupid decisions now will transform Philipsburg into an afterthought. It will be an eyesore. The people? They'll be no less trashy than they are now. It'll become State College's bastard child.

But hey, Front Street will look nice, won't it.

I'll be waiting for your response. Since you people are so concerned with the past, you can type it up on your precious typewriter and send it Pony Express to the address associated with my license plate number. And I'll expect detailed explainations as to exactly why you spent $2 million on Front Street and not a police department, or on any serious sort of economically viable development whatsoever.

And you can bet I'll publish every word you say right here, because your letter is a Government Work, and all Government Works are in the public domain.

You know, Pittsburgh (my adopted home) has a permit system that excuses residents from tickets on the streets they live on. It allows them to park in areas otherwise designated similar to the particular block of Presqueisle in question. Why don't you consider that? Your CEOs obviously like to pick and choose when they give out tickets, so that'll give them more of their precious free time to drive around jamming out to Neil Diamond.

Or would you like to come here and tell my 11 month old step son that he'll have to brave the cold just to make it to his Aunt's house?

Get your acts together, people, unless you want your names forever tied to the decline and ultimate downfall of a once-proud Central Pennsylvania town. You make the call. And you make it without my money.

Inciting A Holy War 101: Cristian Stupidity

And not just stupidity. Let's add Arrogance, Bile, Ignorance, and Complete Disregard.

Also Moron, Nutcase, Idiot, Dumbass, Dicksplash, Asshat, Fucktard, and Half-wit.

This is what happens when Jesus takes the wheel (Thread):

All common sense? Gone. After Muslims in Sudan went batshit crazy, wanting to execute a British teacher for allowing her students to name a stuffed teddy bear Muhammad, this fuckwit has the audacity to name a stuffed pig the very same.

For those of you who don't really know: In Islam, there is no lower creature than the pig. To them, the pig is filthy, as it eats the wastes of other animals (mostly humans' tab;e scraps anymore, good ol' slop) and rolls around in filth (usually mud). This is why Muslims won't eat any pork products.

Most of you should know, however, that Muhammad is the big prophet of Islam, and to insult him is, more often than not, a death sentence to the hardliners.

So yeah. Let's create an image of their prophet in the form of a pig. Real smart there, Reverend.

...Lies The Key To Imagination

It's Redneck Hospital 2: Electric Boogaloo.

You know, the ignorance of Rednecks never ceases to stop amazing the crap out of me. That's just a given anymore. I mean, these people are oblivious to the fact that they singlehandedly keep the human race needlessly tethered to lifestyles and ideals that went out with the dawn of the airplane.

All too often, stupidity is tied to that ignorance. Take, for example, the devout NASCAR fan I ran into this morning at the doctors' office. How did I know he was a NASCAR fan, not to mention a devout one? The jacket said it all, and said it loudly. Not only was the NASCAR logo plastered all over the bloody thing, but it's once-bright blue color was stained to high heaven with what could only be several different kinds of natural and synthetic industrial and automotive lubricants.

The mullet didn't hurt my deduction, either.

At any rate, we were behind this older couple, waiting to check the Bear in for his follow-up. Off to our left, looking obviously impatient and worried, stood Captain Stock Car, a hillbilly of about 45 years of age, looking more like 55 after years of Church and Go Fast, Turn Left action on Sundays and raising some rowdy kin-folk.

Well, the old couple taking a bit I can understand. Let's face it: they're old. If they do anything fast anymore, it's pretty much a medical miracle. You can't fault them for their age, nor the fact that they're living in an era that's way ahead of them in terms of social speed. But Captain Stock Car was looking like he was desperate to cut in front of us, even though we had what was obviously a slightly-under-the-weather 11 month old with us.

So, when the old folks were done, he asked us if he could cut in line real quick. His all-important question, the one that forced him to cut in front of a sick child?

Could he use one of the dozen or so wheelchairs sitting in the lobby - which are there for patients to take and use if they need to as soon as they arrive in the building - for his mother.

Idiot thought he needed permission. Yeah, in a place where people are sick and time is of the essence, you have to throw a wrench in the works to ask if your sick mother can use a wheelchair that they put there for people like your sick mother to use without having to ask.

Seriously. They let these people have kids? If the blazingly obvious passes you by completely and you don't even feel the breeze, you need to seriously rethink your situation.

Sure, it was only a hold-up of about 15 seconds, and the Bear wasn't in any dire need of medical care (it was just a follow-up to his ER visit on 500 Years of BS and Turkey Day), but come on! If you'd come down out of the hills every so often and see what civilized people are doing with their newfangled advancements, maybe you'd know things like medical centers put wheelchairs by the entrance for patients who need (or feel they need) them.

What a modern concept that is. Go home and watch Speed Network, hillbilly. FAIL.

Chim Chim Cheroo

I clicked on the Week-long Archive link on Fark tonight, determined to find out just how many Nanny State articles about the stupid BS going on in (not-so?) Great Britain, and this is what I found...

• Prison guards have to be nice to prisoners. The Sun is there, along with Fark.
• Illegal Skin Bleaching: Scourge of the Empire. Thread.
• As covered in Yesterday's Post, Thread.
• Scotch Grandma can't see her grandkids because of too many sweets. No, really.
• If you aren't a regular patron with a proper regular patron card, get the fock out. Not Circket.

Eh, not as much as I'd expect from the seven day Farkive, but still, it's all kind of childish when you think about it. And what's even more sad is the fact that this kind of crap is trying to get itself established here in the United States as well.

Why am I posting all this nonsense? Well, I've noticed a rash of readers from the southeast of the UK, from about London to Canturbury. What say ye, Englishmen and women? I'm interested in your thoughts on the goings on in your own country, as well as your perceptions of what's going on here...