Tuesday, June 30, 2009

I Know a Waning Moon When I See One

I'm sorry, did I say something? It's a mystery.

The Minnesota Nightmare Has Ended

Congratulations, Al Franken, Senator from Minnesota. After eight long months, a victory by 312 votes has finally arrived.

I'm not putting too much into this 60th Democratic vote thing... not while we have senators like Mary Landrieu, D-Louisiana, and Blanche Lincoln, D-Arkansas, who are among the more conservative Democrats in the US Senate.

And then there are some health issues:
Republicans are also well aware that two veteran Democrats, Senators Robert C. Byrd of West Virginia and Edward M. Kennedy of Massachusetts, are ailing and have regularly been absent from the Senate, making it very difficult for Democrats to assemble 60 senators on the floor.

I have but one request of Senator Franken: Please make Paul Wellstone proud.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Most Outrageous (Sexist) Marketing Gimmick

Being in the television advertising industry I occasionally get gifts -- some of them are nice and some of them are just the usual run-of-the-mill stuff. There is the occasional surprise like the whoopie cushion I got from a television station sales rep in Houston back in 2007 which I discovered also functions as a handy jar opener. I can simultaneously make farting noises while accomplishing a task.

Today a very large box was delivered to our door. It came from the main office of my agency in Iowa. I had no idea what they might be sending me. For such a large box it certainly didn't weigh much.



Inside the box was this gift-wrapped surprise in charcoal black paper with a jet-black ribbon. I had already disassembled it but photographed the remains so you could get the idea. It was quite morbid and I was wondering if this was some elaborate way of informing me that I was being discharged from their employ.



I was stunned and baffled upon opening this gift. "What the fuck is it?" I asked myself. I looked at a tag and realized it was not from my employer but from a cable network in Canada called "Scream." Think scary/horror programming. I guess they sent it to the main office where it was then forwarded to me at company expense.



I was trying to figure out if it was a cleverly packaged t-shirt promoting the network, but there was only half of it with one arm sticking out. txrad was standing near me watching this drama unfold, and we were both asking, "what the fuck??"

Then I read the card...



Excuse me? The "boyfriend replacement arm?" Oh, yeah. Right. Because the females are all so scared during "supernatural, suspense and thriller" programming that they need to cling to a man. Of course.

Being a real masculine he-man who has never been scared of any scary film (because guys just don't get scared you know!), I obviously don't need this. But as a gay man, I can certainly find some uses for a boyfriend replacement arm.... a handjob on the sofa perhaps during a hot porn flick.

Jesus H. Christ... what a waste. Someone was paid money to dream this idea, concoct it, then someone was paid to make this shit, then someone was paid to transport it from Canada to the US, THEN my company paid to ship it on to me, taking up valuable space on a Fed-Ex truck with a completely unnecessary trip out to kona ranch to deliver something for which I have absolutely no use whatsoever.

This will end up in my dumpster, requiring a garbage truck to haul it out to a landfill where it will continue to take up space. What a colossal waste.

Oh, Canada. How you disappoint me. I thought you were better than us.

Pitchman for OxiClean Dead at 50

Billy Mays has died.




It's a bit unnerving to have two high-profile 50-year-olds drop dead in a week. What's up?
Family, friends and colleagues mourned Mays, 50, who was found unresponsive in his Tampa home Sunday, and awaited an autopsy to determine the cause of his sudden death.

Police said Mays told his wife he didn't feel well when he went to bed Saturday night. Earlier in the day, he said he was hit on the head when his airliner had a rough landing at Tampa Bay's airport.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Sunday Night Blues

[Trigger warning: this video contains black folks wielding a battle axe.]



You Know Them



Some of you may have seen this before but I just ran across it this morning. And I'm fascinated by such bits of trivia.
They're Nick and Bobbi Ercoline of the northern Orange County hamlet of Pine Bush. She's a 59-year-old nurse at Pine Bush Elementary School who collects food and clothes for needy children. He's a 60-year-old retired business agent for a carpenter's union who does lead and farm worker housing inspections for Orange County. The parents of two sons — Matthew, 30, and Luke, 27 — live in a 10-room home on a wooded road dotted with old farms and new houses. An American flag, a statue of the Virgin Mary and a tongue-in-cheek "Hippies Use Back Door" sign greet visitors out front. The famous photo hangs on a wall in a kitchen with shiny wood floors and black granite countertops.


Here they were as you knew them in 1969.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

[Trigger warning for gun violence.]

There's a post up at Shakesville which starts off with the title of this post.

If I have gun-related issues, which I sorta do, the very phrase "trigger warning" is a trigger.

I'm so glad I operate in a trigger-free zone. This country has enough triggers and trigger-happy people as it is.

Honestly, and I'm dead-curious, if someone sees a trigger warning on a post, and they know they are sensitive to it, do they not read the post or do they psyche themselves up for it somehow?

I'm trying to figure this out.

But I like the Who Would Jesus Shoot part. Really. Would Jesus pull a trigger?

Friday, June 26, 2009

4:02 AM or PM?



Friday Pussy Blog: The High Pussy Edition

Our old dining table and chairs are shoved into a corner of the den with 2 chairs on the table to conserve space while I try to find someone willing to pick this up for free. Sissy has decided one of the chairs makes a suitable throne for her Highness.



She's such a sweet girl.




Meanwhile, the Tot will either be in a window or on the new kitchen table.



Happy Friday, everyone! Wheeeeeee! What a friggin' week! Hopefully nobody else died today!

Packin' Heat For Jesus (and the Bartender)

Ken Pagano, the pastor of the New Bethel Church in Louisville, is staging a "celebration of our rights as Americans" by encouraging his congregation to bring along the kids bring a hot dish for the potluck supper carry their firearms into the sanctuary. I kid you not.
“God and guns were part of the foundation of this country,” Mr. Pagano, 49, said Wednesday in the small brick Assembly of God church, where a large wooden cross hung over the altar and two American flags jutted from side walls. “I don’t see any contradiction in this. Not every Christian denomination is pacifist.”

And I'm a hardcore vegetarian except when I chow down on some veal.

Things are getting crazy out there and we need a reality check. Unfortunately, reality is not to be embraced by this group who see conspiracy in everything. Obama made me do it:
One worry was that a Democratic president and Congress would reinstitute the assault-weapons ban, which expired in 2004.

But there is little support for the ban. Mr. Obama and his party have largely ignored gun-control issues, and the president even signed a measure that will allow firearms in national parks.

Still, the fear remains that Mr. Obama, and his attorney general, Eric H. Holder Jr., will crack down on guns sooner or later. That — along with the faltering economy, which gun sellers say has spurred purchases for self-defense — has fueled a record surge in gun sales.

The NRA is busy...
The National Rifle Association says its membership is up 30 percent since November. And several states have recently passed laws allowing gun owners to carry firearms in more places — bars, restaurants, cars and parks.

“We have a very active agenda in all 50 states,” said Chris W. Cox, legislative director of the N.R.A., widely considered the country’s most powerful lobby. “We have right-to-carry laws in over 40 states; 20 years ago, it was in just six.”

Of the 40 states with right-to-carry laws, 20 allow guns in churches.

This is not a healthy trend.

The New York Times addresses a related issue in an editorial today.
...Tennessee, where the Legislature just overrode the governor’s veto and rescinded a law barring patrons from carrying handguns in bars and restaurants.

Just what America needs during times of economic strife, layoffs, and the related stress: drunks running around with guns! Another case has been made for drinking at home.

Not all is lost though; at least the Texas legislature, surprisingly, enacted a ban on the mentally ill buying weapons. But this leaves me wondering something rather important: define mentally ill.




Crossposted at Big Brass Blog

Thursday, June 25, 2009

When I Was 13

In my dreams, when I was 13 there were real rock bands. The kind that didn't need flashy shit. You know, they just got out there and they played. And it was received or not. And others came along and they were received or not... and then there's Wishbone Ash. They struggle........ they fail, and they succeed at times. But.. you've got to admit, it was fucking fun.





They did all of the above, and I applaud them for it.

RIP: Two Icons Of My Youth

This is a surreal day. I've been so inundated with work since Tuesday that I'd barely been able to digest the death of Farrah Fawcett. I never even knew she had an Austin connection until today.
Ferrah Leni Fawcett (her first name a variation on the Arabic word for joy) was born and raised in Corpus Christi, Texas. Voted Best Looking at her high school, she studied microbiology, then art, at the University of Texas, Austin.

And why would I? I was a high school boy living on a farm in Arkansas during Charlie's Angels, a show I watched almost religiously. I can't think of the 1970s without thinking of her.

Just as I was wrapping up my workday, txrad blurted out something about Michael Jackson dying. I said, "WHAT?"

Rumors were flying back and forth, that he was in the hospital, that he was in a coma, that he had died. And apparently the latter is the fact.

If Farrah Fawcett was a cultural icon of my teenage years, Michael Jackson was certainly the equivalent of my pre-teen and early teen years.

What Melissa wrote about "Rockin' Robin" really resonated with me.
I was never much of a fan. Never owned a Michael Jackson album, not even Thriller. But I must have listened to my 7-inch single of the Jackson 5's "Rockin' Robin" like nine million times on my Scoobie-Doo record player...

[...]

And I found it indescribably cool that it was sung by a kid who grew up just down the street from me.

I remember that song being played on the radio sooooo many times when I was a kid. I knew talent when I heard it, even if it was something I wasn't rushing out to buy. I also never owned a Michael Jackson LP or 45 RPM single, or CD. But I never wrote him off as talentless; it just wasn't my bag. In the 70s I was veering in the direction of heavy metal and in the 80s when Thriller was released, I was into the punk/new wave scene.

And speaking of Thriller, I have a story. In 1983 (while Melissa was a still a "kid" by the way -- yes I'm old I guess) when the Thriller video was released, I was over in London working at the HMV Shop. I will never forget that day when the video was available for the first time.

The HMV was a 3-story record and video store located in central London -- the best record store on the planet in my opinion -- and we were gearing up ahead of time for the release. I worked on the 3rd floor which was the video floor. All the staff were told to report to work that day as it was expected to be one of the busiest in the history of the store.

I will never forget showing up for work at least an hour or so ahead of the official store opening and seeing mobs of people already gathered at the door. I still remember a sense of selfish pride as I was allowed through the door as an employee while the masses were salivating with their noses literally pressed against the glass doors of the store.

And of course I remember the minute the store officially opened for business and throngs raced in. First on the ground level, then to the 2nd level, and finally racing up the circular stairway to the 3rd level where the treasured videos were to be found.

It was a busy day. And needless to say, the video was also being played non-stop on the monitors and sound system. That was the one day out of 14 months when I don't think I got an opportunity to put on the Grace Jones video.

Here's another song I heard a million times from when I was 10 years old. Michael was probably 11. And that, in and of itself, is pretty scary.



And at 2:26 PM PDT, he was no longer among us.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Celebrating 100 Miles and 100°

I am a sweaty fool right now. I just got home from 1.5 miles of walking in the afternoon heat of 100° in the shade. On the street, in the sun, it was probably still in the 108° to 110° range. That walk, coupled with 1.5 miles this morning, puts me at 100 miles since I began this regimen on May 18th.

That puts me in Lorena, Texas near the southern edge of Waco on the map.



So I'm about to shower than screw the top off a refreshing white wine from California.

By the way, the shoes are holding up nicely.



They were not new when I started this. I'd had them a couple of years and that included quite a few one-mile walks around the block, plus I wore them when I was working downtown in 2007, walking a half-mile each way to and from the bus stop on those days when I took the bus. So I figure these shoes could easily have 100 miles on them already.

The official high at our house today: 105.1°

Blinded by the Right

I ran across this letter to the editor which was printed in today's Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. On one level it is so outrageous it's comical. On another more important level, it's simply disturbing because he is not alone. There are lots of like-minded individuals out there whose brains have been stirred to mush by an overdose of Faux News, Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, and Sean Hannity.

Families are under seige

Once upon a time the Democratic Party was for the American family. We stupid, ignorant, dumb Americans have allowed our country to be taken over by the “hate American families” national media, American Civil Liberties Union, illegal aliens, gays, drunks and druggies.

We have elected a social-experiment president who apparently hates Americans and loves Muslim terrorists. Blanche Lincoln, our senior U.S. senator, apparently wants illegal aliens to take jobs from our families. We have three Democrats in the U.S. House of Representatives who also apparently hate America.

Wake up, America, and take our country back from the “hate American families” fringe group called Barack Obama’s Democratic Party. Contact your senators. We don’t want a racist on the Supreme Court.

SID DENNEY
Bella Vista


The irony is that it is people like Sid Denney who are the real Hate America contingent, the "stupid, ignorant, dumb Americans" who allow themselves to be manipulated into believing nonsense.

If Mr. Denney would take the time to examine the facts in the context of American politics as a whole, he would learn that Arkansas' three US Representatives and two US Senators who are Democrats, can best be categorized as moderates who tilt to the right once for every two tilts to the left.

With that being said, I hope I have adequately corrected this reoccurring gross distortion promoted by the likes of Sid Denney. Probably not.



Click the graphic to see how your state's delegation is ranked.

Source: National Journal, which isn't particularly
slanted to the left.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Color My Pussy Orange

If you think this is another post about my cat, think again. It's a "BIG" coloring book for those who are a tad obsessed with private parts. So whip out those crayons, kiddies!



Rather than post the full photo to my Photobucket account, I'll just provide a link to Amazon which sells them. Besides, Photobucket has a history of deleting any of my pictures if there is any resemblance to male private parts.

These coloring books are available as his and hers.

I wonder if they are really available on Kindle as the page suggests. That would take all the fun out of it.

Via.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Monday Pussy Blog Bonus

The Tot does this thing where he starts grooming in the living room while waiting on us to join him. He is grooming his belly and he actually uses his paw to pull it up so he can lick it.





Oh, excuse me!

A Finer Single Malt Scotch

Today I hauled my happy ass to north Austin for some yummy Indian vegetarian cuisine and then on to the nearby Crate & Barrel. I'm having a small dinner party on July 4th for four friends plus txrad and myself. Not only will it be my first time to use our new (new to us) dining table, it will be the first time in 12 years of living in Austin that I have planned a dinner get-together with friends in our home!

Needless to say, there are some things I needed to buy to prepare for this. If I'm going to do it, I want it to be nice.

And I scored something for myself as well. This lovely single malt scotch delivery mechanism. What you see pictured here is a Macallan 15. And I'm shocked at what a difference it makes having a quality piece of bar ware from which to consume it.



That glass probably weighs close to half a pound! And it really allows the full scotch bouquet (or whatever they call it) to reach your nose. Quite nice, and well worth $9.00 in my opinion. Not that any of it came out of my pocket; I used a gift card!

I bought some additional glassware which necessitated cleaning out a cabinet to make room. For a few years one of my favorite tequilas was including two shot glasses with each bottle, and they seem to have accumulated.



I now have these in a box, unsure what to do with them. I don't think that type of glass recycles. I guess I can hang on to them, and if I decide to have konafest2012, I can invite 110 of my closest blog buddies and we can all simultaneously do a shot... a toast to the god of kona.

Make your reservations now; space is limited.

During the time it took me to write this post, I have now drained the glass of the Macallan 15. Two big thumbs up.

Friday, June 19, 2009

They Are Us. We Are Them. Solidarity.





Yes, where is your vote? I don't think it ever existed.

And let's not forget it.

Friday Pussy Blog: Orange Tot Juice Edition

txrad decided to decorate the Tot as a walking orange juice advertisement one night this week. That was met with some displeasure. I am receiving the look of death.



Thursday, June 18, 2009

Office Geek

Yes, I am an office geek because I think this is funny.


Live Earth

This is so cool. I just went looking for something on television and saw a Dish Network channel (212) called Earth. Apparently it's been up since April 22.

Using a camera mounted on one of their satellites, they send these live views of our beautiful orb 24/7. How cool is that?

I just shot this photo about 15 minutes ago...

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Sex Pole: How Often Do You Think About It?

Already. As soon as I typed the words "sex" and "pole" I was all over it.

That was a typo. Should be Sex POLL. See? I'm incorrigible.

I tried to take a nap today and soon as I started to relax my mind drifted to sex. Anal. Oral. Swapping fluids. 69. Doing it on a set of uneven bars.

Yesterday I took some Facebook quiz -- can't even remember the subject matter -- but one of the questions was "how often do you think about sex?" and I was shocked at the multiple choice answers. I swear one of them was ZERO. Or maybe zero to one. The highest option was six or more! Really? Just six or more? Like eight or nine?

I don't think an hour passes in a day when I don't think about sex 6-9 times at least (oh damn, there's that 6 & 9 again!).

If I'm around a group of gay guys I think about sex. Not because I want them necessarily (9 times out of 10 they are not my type), but I know we share a common interest: the love of dick. So how can I be expected to block that thought from my mind?

If I'm around a group of straight women I think about sex. Not because I'm attracted to women, but we share that common interest again.

Being in the company of lesbians makes me think about sex because I can't help but be relieved that we aren't in competition for the dick.

If I'm with a group of straight guys, I'm probably least likely to think about sex... unless one or more of them happens to be hot as hell. And then you can bet I'll be thinking about it. Fantasies are healthy. Dude, if only you liked dudes!

You would think a visit to the doctor would take my mind off sex. But the last time I had a physical I thought about nothing but sex. The doctor was hot and he stuck his finger up my ass. I'm supposed to NOT think about sex in that situation?

Certain pictures make me think about sex. I run across this one from time to time and it is most definitely a trigger.


Some road signs even make me think of sex.


We have wild mushrooms that spring up in the yard at certain times of the year and those get me pumped up for sex.


During every New Year celebration you can bet your tight ass I'm going to see a display that makes me want to experiment with something new and fun.


I can't even go out and do any gardening and getting in touch with nature without thinking about sex.


It's a bit of a wee little fella though.


Who doesn't love a festive parade? Well, some of those even make me horny.


I could travel the world in an effort to escape this curse, and I'd be thinking about sex in a souvenir shop.


Museums most definitely cause me to think about sex, and oh Lordy, how I wish I could touch the sculpture. Or sit on it. There's almost a thrill a day there for every day in February. How creative.



And despite the fact that I work in advertising, even advertising makes my private parts tingle. Want some cream with that coffee?



Is that an ad for coffee or underwear? Doesn't matter; underwear ads make me horny too. What a fine piece of masturbilia!

Soap on a Rope reminds me of the open communal showers in the college dorm, and we know what I was thinking then, don't we?


(Whewww, I can smell that shit from here!)


Even reading the name David Duchovny in print makes me want to go shopping for sausage. Music provides no respite either.

Reading this blog post makes me want to shag. Hell, I was thinking about sex when I came up with the idea!

But I digress.

So, back to the question, how many times a day do you think about sex? And be honest; I won't respect you in the morning if you lie.

I'll check back in later... we're having veggie burgers with fries tonight. So I need to go wash some potatoes.

President Obama Stops Short Again

Mr. Obama,

First of all, I'd like to request you return my $15 campaign contribution. I was obviously drunk when I made the donation because I sincerely believed in my out-of-body experience that you were going to be the president of ALL the people, that you would truly be the agent of hope and change, and that we would be turning a long-awaited corner on LGBTQ issues. Or at the very least LGBT. Or, realistically, LG issues. In my sober heart, I knew better.

I suppose you think by signing that memorandum today which extends job benefits to same-sex partners of federal employees, that all of us will feel placated and will perhaps shut the fuck up for awhile. Sorry, no can do.
President Obama will sign a presidential memorandum on Wednesday to extend benefits to same-sex partners of federal employees, administration officials said Tuesday evening, but he will stop short of pledging full health insurance coverage.

As a goodwill gesture, based on the value of this benefit as a percentage of my contribution, I will let you keep 50-cents. If and when you decide to aggressively pursue genuine equality for us, while using your brilliant charisma to swing Congress to our causes where necessary, I'll gradually return portions of my donation based on my perceived value.

Extend full health insurance coverage to same-sex partners: $1.50

Repeal DADT: $3.00

Repeal DOMA: $3.00

End the war in Iraq: $4.00

Close Gitmo: $3.00

There's so much more, but that would be a nice start. More than 10% of your first term in office is already behind you. If this were a movie which I'd paid to see, I'd already be yawning at this point and checking my watch.
As a presidential candidate, Mr. Obama vowed to “fight hard” for the rights of gay couples. As a senator, he sponsored legislation that would have provided health benefits to same-sex partners of federal employees.

But President Obama and his advisers have been reluctant to wade deeply into divisive issues like overturning a ban on openly gay military members or extending benefits to partners of government employees, fearful that such moves could overtake the administration’s broader agenda.

Here's the disconnect: civil rights and equality for all should be an integral part of that "broader agenda," Mr. President. That is, or so I've been led to believe, the backbone of what the United States of America is as a nation.

I don't expect my voice alone to hold much sway. But look around you, Mr. President; when the New York Times begins to criticize you in an editorial, you might want to consider recalibrating.
The Obama administration, which came to office promising to protect gay rights but so far has not done much, actually struck a blow for the other side last week. It submitted a disturbing brief in support of the Defense of Marriage Act, which is the law that protects the right of states to not recognize same-sex marriages and denies same-sex married couples federal benefits. The administration needs a new direction on gay rights.

[...]

The administration has had its hands full with the financial crisis, health care, Guantánamo Bay and other pressing matters. In times like these, issues like repealing the marriage act can seem like a distraction — or a political liability. But busy calendars and political expediency are no excuse for making one group of Americans wait any longer for equal rights.

And the New York Times is being too kind. When progressive liberal bloggers start chewing off chunks of your backside, you know you've got a public relations disaster on your hands.
Pam Spaulding:
UPDATE: It gets so much worse. This partner benefit plan is simply an administrative memo - it expires when Obama leaves office! LOLOLOL. FAIL-O-RAMA.

On second thought, give me back my entire $15 contribution. You don't even get 50-cents for this hollow move, Mr. President. Or as I shall henceforth call you, "President Stop Short."

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

I'm Gay. Can I Decide What Offends Me? Please?

Here we go again. Melissa at Shakesville has her stinger out for Sacha Baron-Cohen's upcoming "trainwreck" movie Brüno.
It would rock my world if, on July 10, the day Brüno was scheduled to open, Sacha Baron-Cohen instead announced that the entire thing was a scam, designed to reveal the depth of the American media's hostility toward real, ordinary gay people, and every scheduled showing of Brüno would actually be a screening of The Celluloid Closet.

[...]

Instead, it will just be another straight dude being a hugely offensive wanker and calling it edgy, dismissing his critics as humorless losers.

The comment thread is already chock-full of hostility to his prior film, Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, which I enjoyed immensely despite instincts to the contrary before I actually watched it. I hadn't planned to even watch it until it was highly recommended to me by a friend -- a Jewish woman in New York.



Favorite quote from the comment thread at Shakesville thus far:

Nothing about the "Borat" movie was funny to me. Plus, I was triggered during several scenes.

No doubt! Those fucking triggers are everywhere these days.

You see, I wasn't much of a fan of Sacha Baron-Cohen's work prior to Borat. Those interviews of politicians while he was in character, unknown to those being interviewed, made me a tad uncomfortable. I guess I have empathy. Even if the person being interviewed was a politician whose views I absolutely despise. I suppose I prefer my comedians to be more up-front about their work, without the deceit. It's much more funny to me when it is bold, brazen, and open, and clearly a character, however flamboyant he or she might be.

And this is precisely (well, one reason) I enjoyed Borat so much more than I expected. (That, and the pot.)

I will withhold judgment until I see the film. Unfortunately, that may be awhile since I don't go to to the cinema. I'll catch the DVD, which means 2010 or 2011. It may be the unfunniest thing I've ever seen. It may well be complete and total homophobic rubbish. I'll decide. But the fireworks from Shakesville when the film is released will surely entertain me in the meantime.

I do hope the film is "edgy."

And as for Melissa's criticism of GQ? I don't buy or read the shit. This is marketing and advertising. This is how they do things, not just with this film; with any film. That's how it works. When you buy a magazine, you are buying advertising.

Random Bits of Humor - Completely Unrelated

I've had this sitting in my to-do file for so long I can't even remember where it came from. My brother sends me tons of stuff and it probably came from him, as did the rest of the items in this post.



He also sent me a picture of a scout troop in my hometown from 1962. Not sure what they were doing in this shot with the fire truck and holding on to the hose.



Naturally, the keen eye of konagod zeroed in on some other possible hose-grabbing action.




I hope that was enjoyable for both of them.

And FYI, just because everyone in this picture was Caucasian, that doesn't mean I lived in an all-white town. Quite the contrary; it was probably close to 50% black. That says a lot about the Boy Scouts of 1962 does it not? And today we have a black president. And some of those folks in the photograph are probably not too happy about that fact.

Moving on...

I don't know how you feel about jury duty. I hate getting called for it with a passion. The last time I was called for a jury selection process I tried pretty damn hard to make myself as unappealing as possible, and it worked. But I didn't go to this extreme...



I wonder if that worked? I don't have a dog but I'd rather count the hairs on my cat's balls than serve on a jury.

Asshole - Part 2

Foiled Goil, over at Big Brass Blog, did a nice pile-on of my earlier Daily Dose of Asshole post. There is also a link to the WaPo story from Mike Goldman in that post's comment thread.

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with Rep. Kirk?

In a speech at the Center for Strategic and International Studies in Washington, Kirk said he told Chinese officials "the budget numbers that the U.S. Government has put forward should not be believed."

[...]

Democratic operatives aren't letting this one go. They're fixated on Kirk's declaration that the U.S. budget numbers "should not be believed." In other words, Democrats charge, Kirk is calling his own country a liar.

"After helping get us into this current economic crisis by supporting President Bush's failed economic policies, Congressman Mark Kirk went to China and told Chinese officials that the American government was not to be trusted," says Ryan Rudominer, spokesman for the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee. "Congressman Kirk's questioning of America while representing our government in China is incredibly irresponsible and endangers the American economy."


Is Kirk the most irresponsible person in Congress? And if not, is he striving for the title? His timing on this is not so great, as if there were ever a good time to rock that boat.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Muskrat Love

txrad and I were just having a discussion involving minks in western North Dakota, and I brought up the point that I just didn't get the whole mink stole phenomenon in the 70s, even though my mother bought one. I think she might have worn it 3 or 4 times.

Money well spent.

And then txrad talked about people shooting muskrats. "You get one shot before they dive," he said.

Naturally, I asked, "Who did that song, 'Muskrat Love'?"

"Captain & Tennille," he said.

Normally I'm the one who answers those questions correctly.



Your Daily Dose of Asshole

Dear readers, I present you with Rep. Mark Kirk, an ILL Republican. Sorry, that's Ill as in Illinois. I just couldn't resist.



Just as we are making some substantive progress in examining our absurd laws concerning marijuana, and the failed War on Drugs in general, this asshole comes along to buck the trend.

And I mean he really bucks it.

From NORML:
Just days after Massachusetts Democrat Rep. Barney Frank, along with 13 cosponsors, reintroduced HR 2835, the Medical Marijuana Patient Protection Act of 2009 in Congress, Republican Rep. Mark Kirk (Illinois) has called for federal legislation to sentence certain first-time marijuana offenders to up to 25 years in prison.


Apparently, this asshole didn't read Nicholas Kristof's op-ed piece in the New York Times only two days ago:
Here in the United States, four decades of drug war have had three consequences:

First, we have vastly increased the proportion of our population in prisons. The United States now incarcerates people at a rate nearly five times the world average. In part, that’s because the number of people in prison for drug offenses rose roughly from 41,000 in 1980 to 500,000 today. Until the war on drugs, our incarceration rate was roughly the same as that of other countries.

Second, we have empowered criminals at home and terrorists abroad. One reason many prominent economists have favored easing drug laws is that interdiction raises prices, which increases profit margins for everyone, from the Latin drug cartels to the Taliban. Former presidents of Mexico, Brazil and Colombia this year jointly implored the United States to adopt a new approach to narcotics, based on the public health campaign against tobacco.

Third, we have squandered resources. Jeffrey Miron, a Harvard economist, found that federal, state and local governments spend $44.1 billion annually enforcing drug prohibitions. We spend seven times as much on drug interdiction, policing and imprisonment as on treatment. (Of people with drug problems in state prisons, only 14 percent get treatment.)

Or maybe Rep. Kirk did read it and doesn't care. Maybe he just doesn't like Rep. Barney Frank and decided to have a childish "I'll show YOU" moment.

Whatever. Way to go in showing the country and the world what a stupendous, self-righteous and out-of-touch idiot you are, Rep. Kirk.


Crossposted at B3

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Leave That Woman Alone!

I love Facebook, but I'm getting annoyed at the lack of ad filtering that occurs in that environment. I've made it quite clear I'm a leftist and yet I get pleas to join this and that right-wing organization. And then there's the overhead ads which seem to defy all logic.





I want to slap somebody for sure. And it ain't Susan Boyle. I've never even seen her sing. I tend to disavow all such things related to anything remotely related to judgment calls.. But this is ridiculous.

Click on my middle finger to slap the shit out of stupid people.

If anyone can tell me what the result was from clicking on that ad, I'd love to hear it. I just couldn't give them the goddamn fucking satisfaction.

A Chance Encounter

I have wondered what happens when two celebrities who have never met just happen to bump into each other in public. I suppose the recognition part would be fairly easy if it were say, Susan Sarandon and Mary-Louise Parker. It gets a bit more challenging when it's two bloggers who have never met and are shopping at the same supermarket on the same Sunday afternoon.

txrad was gathering up our groceries and I was stuffing the receipt in my wallet when a woman walked up and said, "I know you! konagod!"

Now I can't begin to tell you everything that was going through my mind in the two seconds between her saying "I know you" and "konagod." It was like 10-minutes worth of thoughts all crammed into that short two seconds.

"Is this someone from high school or my past? No, definitely not. Is this someone I used to work with years ago? Umm, maybe, but... I don't think so. Her eyes... I recognize her eyes and her face."

If she had given me about 3 more seconds I would have nailed it. I was so close to figuring out who she was but my brain was getting twisted up between her blog and her Facebook page.

As soon as she said, "it's BLUEBERRY," I was frustrated with myself for not being able to blurt it out first!

It's so ironic because I've always thought I'd bump into her eventually, probably at a music event. And I have literally had that thought recently, and even went so far as to wonder if I'd be able to find her in a crowd, knowing up front that we were both at the same event, with only her Facebook picture as my clue.

So, having this happen at the supermarket is even more bizarre. And guess what I had bought?

Blueberries. Not kidding. Absolute truth.

Fetch the Probe and Put Your Spurs On

We all like to complain about our fucking jobs from time to time. I may cut back on my complaints now that I realize the occupational hazards of my work are basically limited to headaches and carpel tunnel syndrome. At least I don't need to wear a condom to do my job. And it's only a figure of speech when I say my work is a pain in the ass.

I love sex and I used to joke back in the 80s that I wanted to do porn because...well, it was work I could enjoy. And I heard the pay was even decent. What's not to love?

HIV for starters.
"I don't think there's a problem right now," said actor, producer and director Jules Jordan. "It's like people who do stunts in Hollywood. There's a risk in anything you do."

Jordan said he does not use condoms in filming because "it takes away the whole fantasy."

Some fantasy.

There's absolutely nothing funny about this. It's sad and tragic that 22 cases of HIV infection have been detected in the porn industry since 2004. That we know of.

And yet, I was initially amused when I saw a related piece in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette today. It had something to do with the headline.

I'm not sure if the writer of this deserves a bonus for creativity or the boot for insensitivity:



Seeing the words porn, probe and spurs in the headline of a family newspaper is quite possibly a once-in-a-lifetime event.

The visuals in my mind came about instantly and instinctively. Sometimes my own warped mind makes me uncomfortable. It's my adolescent problem and I suppose I need to work on it.

In the meantime, damn those triggers! I'm now feeling kinky, and it's too damn hot in Texas for leather!



In the same paper today there was a story about a mayor in a small town who just resigned during a "probe." I didn't bother to read that piece for details.

In Hot Pursuit of Veggies and Fruit

For the past month I have been on a health kick. Or I should say mini-health kick. At least during daylight hours. The evenings are another story, like night & day.

For 18 years I have adhered to a vegetarian diet which sounds healthy enough, but I really don't eat much in the way of fresh foods... raw fresh foods. We prepare pizza once or twice a week, we have 2 or 3 vegetable casseroles in our lineup, and then our veggie burgers with txrad's homemade ketchup, homemade buns, and potatoes he slices for the oven fries. Almost everything we eat in the evening is fried or baked!

Lunch is worse. We often take the easy route on weekdays, when I'm working, and have a microwaved frozen veggie entree. There are clearly worse things we could eat, but there are certainly better things as well. The frozen entrees are pretty expensive considering the portion sizes and the ingredients. And they usually have excess sodium.

I started walking 2 or 3 miles a day on May 18th and the end of today will represent four weeks of walking. If I stick to my plan today I will have walked 70 miles in a month.

This walking regimen has resulted in an increased appetite. I've started boiling up some oatmeal for breakfast and topping it with a sliced banana. The first couple of times I think my body -- specifically my intestinal tract -- went into shock. Without going into detail, let's just say I think my body was asking, "what the hell IS this you're feeding me??"

Now that mind, body, and spirit are all getting along better (oatmeal, banana and gut are all slapping each other on the back going "Hey dude, nice to see ya!"), I'm ready to ratchet things up a notch. I keep hearing about the importance of five servings of fruits and vegetables each day and I'm ready to give that a whirl. Ketchup doesn't count as a veggie in my book. Ketchupgate taught me that. If only cheese counted as a fruit or a vegetable -- life would be grand!

Five servings of raw fruits and veggies is my agenda. Now that I have the banana thing under control, that leaves four to go, and this is not as easy as it seems. It's been so long since I have pondered eating anything raw, I'm having trouble naming five things!

Apples! There's an idea. Now three more! Umm...

Leafy greens! The salad I often crave could easily take care of the remaining three veggies. I just need to add a carrot and... what else?

Oh screw it. I'm too lazy too make a salad every day and I know it.

I have a better idea. All this slicing, dicing and chopping is going to take time. Let's just throw all that stuff in a juicer...carrot, apple, beet, celery, and DRINK it.

So, what's on your plate? Do you get your five servings of fruit and veggies each day?

Some Sunday Morning Joni

"Harry's House/Centerpiece" is from The Hissing of Summer Lawns.



Saturday, June 13, 2009

Wristwatches Must Go!

I haven't worn a watch since the 1980s. And even then, it was a freebie from Andy Warhol. I subscribed to Interview magazine because I liked all the boy photos, and I got a free wristwatch from Andy on my birthday.

For years I bragged about my birthday gift from Andy.

Eventually, the cheap plastic strap broke (I doubt it was made in China back then), and I quit wearing it, and I haven't worn a watch since.

Now I'm kinda perplexed as to why people are so obsessed about time. We have iPhones. Don't they tell us the time? Hell, my RAZR does. And my computer, and my atomic clock in the kitchen.

I don't really need to know the time THAT often. Just an occasional glance to get a general idea will suffice.

I don't use an alarm clock. No need. I have cats. THEY know the time. And they will tell YOU when it's time to get up.

So, all that being said, I get really pissed when I watch porn and the guys are wearing watches. Take that shit OFF, please! You took EVERYTHING else off! Why not remove the watch? Do you need to be somewhere fast?

Bottom line: remove the watch when you are jerking someone else off for pleasure, and for profit. Especially if you are on camera. For it is most unbecoming, not to mention, distracting. It makes it seem as though you have something better to do at the appropriate time. And clearly you do not.

Let me quote from MY bible.

Give unto others as you would have them give unto you.

And the world would be a much happier place.

Some Saturday Morning Joni



Friday, June 12, 2009

"Fucked Up" Means ALL Of Us

This blog was founded, and has been inconsistently force-fed, by the work of konagod. It is overwhelmingly His vision, voice, energy, work, and determination that has set the tone and maintained the blog we enjoy -- a place on the internet which commenters say, again and again, they treasure as a hilarious, piece-of-shit minuscule blog. Or occasional spammers who say, The way you present your articles is exquisite. Would you mind if we exchange links? Without konagod, konagod would not exist. Full stop.

He wants to make clear that He is speaking as one konagod voice about what it means to waste personal time in maintaining this "exquisite" blog when He should be mowing the yard or scrubbing the bathroom tiles instead of taking cat pictures and throwing up post after post after post. His dedication to speaking up for Himself and occasionally others is represented by countless hours of sleeping, drinking coffee, a little writing, playing records at night, ill communication, and jerk-off fantasies within and without the community. The guidelines and policies that He has worked to create represent His very purple hazily-defined expectations.

What's konagod all about, anyway?

konagod was started in May, 2006 as a place to post cat pictures on Fridays. It quickly evolved into a pseudo-political blog, a brief attempt at running with the big dogs by trying to be the first to cover breaking news before discovering it was never going to happen because his grammar sucks and people don't care, and then a daily tracking of famous people's birthdays complete with YouTube videos, occasionally some serious posts about LGBTQ issues, but ultimately just a whatever/whenever blog covering whatever issues happened to yank His dick, like kids getting arrested for serving pot-spiked muffins at school, or retards being sent to prison in Texas for 100 years. WHO CARES!?

While konagod considers konagod a progressive blog, or at least considers himself progressive in a lazy hippie kind of way, this is also a chafe space. Visitors need not check their privilege at the door (we have no bouncers and somebody without privilege might make off with it) so best you keep it close at hand and just be aware of it. No one is expected to be perfect; everyone is expected to be willing to self-examine and if you want to touch yourself in strange places while here, far be it from konagod to interfere. Focus on the fun. It's a blog. He can't see you.

Cat scratches, masturbation, ISDs (injuries suffered while drunk), bowel movements, enemas, and other explosive bodily discharges, along with left-wing politics, right-wing nutjobs, music and culture, are all woven into the abominable fabric of konagod.

In fact, konagod's key objectives are equality, pervasiveness, perverseness, unlicensed use of AP photos, momentum, derision, growth, pleasure, anarchy, being in the company of butch lesbians for protection, community, blatant plagiarism, laughter, and diarrhea of both ass and mouth.

konagod blogs about domestic politics, presidents behaving like assholes, presidents who are liars, black presidents who lie about being a fierce advocate of gays, gays who think they have been healed straight by Jesus, people who think they find Jesus or the Virgin Mary in a cheesy poof, ugly-ass ridiculous outfits worn by models, ugly-ass ridiculous outfits worn by ordinary people, obituaries (especially people who deserve one; Kim Jong Il's is still saved as a draft ready to post), ethics, atom smashers, music, oppression, repression, depression, recession, religion, philosophy (but only konagod's, not those assholes who got famous from it), marriage (or legal lack thereof), cats, marijuana, alcohol, weed, doobies, joints, reefer, blunts, bongs, pipes, gas prices, ignorant white people, tyrants, Alabama, injustice, civil liberties, racism, bullshit, cat shit, the Brown Menace(TM) which lurks beneath our southern border, dicks, penises, fruits, vegetables, fruits and vegetables shaped like penises, HIS penis (specifically just how long, thick, and lovely it is to behold), why on earth any woman would wear high heels, why temperatures near 0F make the snow squeak and the boogers freeze in your nose, black holes, simpletons, Mississippi, assholes, shopping, cooking, home improvements, shit made in China, jobs exported, butt plugs, butt harps, butt wipes, asshats, Oklahoma, hairy pussy, wet pussy, fat pussy, skinny pussy, lazy pussy, haikus, Kansas, vomit, stinkfoot, yellow snow, Curtis Blow, and anything else that He feels like discussing. And why not? It's His fucking blog. He's the only contributor and He can do what He fucking wants. Whoooot!

All are invited. Whether you have the stomach for it is up to you.

He is speaking for Himself, and his sixteen other personalities, as contributors and moderators, because we He believes that we I He must impose some rules around here to live up to OUR ideals.

We I HE perceives that, over and over again, the choices of some folks in comment threads (or the complete lack of comments in threads) to be ridiculously nice and level-headed have created an environment in which konagod, (let Him remind you again, in case you forgot) the founder and creator of chafe space at konagod, clearly feels unworthy, spaced out, unchafed, unmotivated, and way too horny. In recent weeks, this pattern flared up again, and konagod chose to take a break from the blog and start walking 2 or 3 miles a day, vacuuming the house, tending to his day job, playing too many Facebook games, and removing trapped beetles from the attic ventilation.

This is not, by any means, the first time this has played out, but a summation (with links to specific examples) of the most recent cycle of this pattern can be found here. And here.

We are now calling on every person who identifies as a member of this community to step up and take direct responsibility to help change this pattern -- to take an equal share of the responsibility to maintain a chafe space for everyone in this community.

We call on you to do this in the following ways:

1. Commenting is now mandatory. Ramble on and on, saying whatever comes to mind, making reference to your private body parts, your sinus drainage, your cat's tapeworms, wev.

2. Spice up your own comments in terms of adherence to konagod's demand for a chafe space, and behaving in accordance with what konagod is all about.

3. Don't expect konagod, or his 16 other personalities, to constantly educate and re-educate you on the guidelines of the blog -- respect the time and energy that konagod has put into creating these guidelines by taking the time and energy to educate yourself. And if that's asking too much, well... go give yourself a hot water enema and come back with a fresh perspective, ready to embrace that which is konagod.

4. Be All Fucked Up. Bring your vocal, visible support to konagod (and his 16 other personalities) when you see others failing to chafe, or when they have expressed that they are triggered or distressed by something not happening at the blog. The persistent absence of vocal, visible support from the broad community serves as tacit acceptance of behaviors that we believe are incompatible with our chafe space. Speaking up ONLY when it directly involves you is completely counter to the notion of being "All Fucked Up" -- a primary thrust of konagod Kulture (TM) -- and as kona says: "Man, this shit is like trippin' in a void".

5. Respond immediately (oh, by the way, you are expected to maintain a presence here at all times! New rule!) and defensively to kona's (or his sixteen other personalities) requests that you cease participating in behavior that violates chafe space -- and actually take a moment to stir some shit up.

6. Treat konagod, in all interactions, with the respect that he deserves as the founder, acknowledged leader, only leader, unprofessional writer, and executive mis-director and fornicator of this blog.

7. Open your ears to truly hear, and join your voice in support of konagod, then open your ass and let one rip. Collectively, we should do this as a community.

8. Become an active agent in creating and maintaining chafe space for every konagodian -- including, and especially, konagod, the Almighty Kocktastic King Kona, Lord of The Gigantoid Penis.

9. Know that konagod has a low-threshold for violence, ultra violence, and hate speech. However, trolls and spammers are deposited into the virtual meat grinder as quickly as possible.

10. Beware of using triggering words. konagod even considers the word trigger triggering. You have been forewarned. He will pull the trigger on your ass.

These are the expectations. konagod acknowledges that He, (and His sixteen personalities) have sometimes failed to meet these expectations, even within the confines of this lengthy blatherpost. They re-commit, and invite you to re-commit, to living up to these expectations.

kona, with His occasional work, strong spirits, and cannabis, created this blog, constructed this chafe space, and founded this community within it. Everyone is responsible for maintaining this tripe space and making it chafer for all. That doesn't mean just konagod (and His 16 personalities) are responsible.

This means you.
Yes, you.
Yes, me.
Yes, each and every one of us.
Yes, even every INCH of us. Even if your he-man inches don't measure up to kona's. Give it your best shot.

We are all responsible for our words in this space.

We are all responsible for contributing to the roasting of this space for everyone -- or else the community is boring and frankly, sucks.

It does not work for konagod, or anyone else, to write a post in such a way as to make sure it upholds the ideals of this blog, and then have readers disregard those ideals by failing to comment, or writing nice shit, or worse, not even showing up to trip the goddamn SiteMeter.

A "chafe space" means chafe for everyone and that includes konagod (and His sixteen other personalities). Why people don't grasp this concept is incomprehensible and completely unacceptable to us. Everyone must be stupid or something.

This blog will not survive if people are unwilling themselves to uphold the ideals that konagod demands of konagod.

That is probably not a threat, it is simply a tool to whip you into submission. We must, as a group, allow nothing to derail our quest for chafe space. Or at the very least, chafe-ishness.

Now, everyone hold virtual hands and chant after Him: "I will be chafed! I WILL be chafed!"

Good children! It's the weekend, so go forth and Be All Fucked Up!



please print for your records
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
chafe
  /tʃeɪf/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [cheyf] Show IPA verb, chafed, chaf⋅ing, noun
–verb (used with object)
1. to wear or abrade by rubbing: He chafed his shoes on the rocks.
2. to make sore by rubbing: Her collar chafed her neck.
3. to irritate; annoy: The dripping of the faucet chafed her nerves.
4. to warm by rubbing: to chafe cold hands.
5. Obsolete. to heat; make warm.
–verb (used without object)
6. to become worn or sore from rubbing: His neck began to chafe from the starched collar.
7. to rub; press with friction: The horse chafed against his stall.
8. to be irritated or annoyed: He chafed at their constant interruptions.
–noun
9. irritation; annoyance.
10. heat, wear, or soreness caused by rubbing.
—Idiom
11. chafe at the bit, to become impatient at delay: The work was going very slowly, and he began to chafe at the bit.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday Pussy Blog: Feigning Sleep Edition

If there's pussy, it MUST be FRIDAY!!

One thing that truly amazes me about cats is how they can "sleep" and yet maintain full awareness of their surroundings. Obviously these two have the slit eye condition due to my presence with a camera.




Sissy will sleep on the floor under the keyboard in bedroom #2. But after lunch when I go to ease myself onto the bed quietly in bedroom #1, she is immediately aware and will come join me for some headbutting against my hand and some excessive licking.

And this brings to mind something I've wanted to address here. Message to kitteh: must no lick or bite man-nipple.

It tickles and it's kind of gross. Getting real close to bestiality, so stop trying to do it. Please. It disturbs me having to be on guard when I'm trying to relax. The biscuit-making maneouver on my crotch is bad enough!




Tater Tot prefers the bed to the floor, also in bedroom #2. He never gets on the bed with me in bedroom #1, but both of them will be pacing around my bed every morning, grooming, or just hanging out waiting for me to arise. Because they know it's time. 6:00 AM sharp.

Back to this psychic thing, or whatever this talent cats have for awareness might be. Sweet Pea, one of our two outside cats, is very nervous around strangers. He will wander off and hide when someone other than us happens to be in the back yard. What's funny is that when he's sleeping, even if his back is turned away from the gate, he won't move if I happen to be coming in the gate from the driveway, or if I walk out to the patio from the kitchen.

He must know from the sound of my steps that it's me and not some stranger. Or they are psychic on some level.

Fun With Water

What a fantastic ad! That's something you don't hear me say often.



Thursday, June 11, 2009

Cher Gets a Double Whammy

Cher didn't take the news so well when Chastity told her mom she was a lesbian a few years ago. Now that "Chaz" Bono is transitioning from female to male, maybe mom will be a little more supportive than she was the first time around.

Seriously though, I'm more concerned with how the media is going to play around with this, and whether they will deal with this seriously, or turn it into a comedy strip.

I agree with Pam's opening statement:
This has to be the highest profile transition in recent memory. Let's see what the MSM does with this story as it unfolds; one can only hope that journalists will be fair and accurate and bring some rational perspective to transgender issues.

One can only hope. But I doubt it. Rational perspective would be nice for a change, on a variety of fronts. And especially when it comes to the transgender issue which rarely gets any seriously informative and educational media coverage. Unfortunately, rational perspective gets in the way of sensationalism, viewership levels and ratings, and all that shit.

We'll soon find out.

Oh, and to what kind of people does the media pander when they feel the need to sensationalize an issue? I'll give you a couple from the Daily News blog comments:





Now's there some intellectual discourse of the highest caliber! And since when did "penis" become a dirty word needing to be replaced with *****? I hope these two people are not over the age of 14. Seriously.