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CURRENTLY
Reading:
Nicolae
by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins
Surfing:
Think Progress
Eating:
Coconut Curry Chicken Soup
Watching:
Reaper
via Netflix
Planting:
Sod
July 3 2009
June 30 2009
Shit is going down in the world, people. Shit is going down. There are so many worthwhile headlines to discuss that I can’t keep them straight. Let me see if I can break it down for you:
Iran is in shambles. The people want freedom! And what do they get? 16 men with beards sitting around a conference table talking about God’s will and how Ahmadinejad won that election fair and square, especially if fair and square means we totally cheated and rigged that shit. Then anarchy. The people are angry and then they’re getting shot through the heart on the street by governmental gun-toting assholes with no self-control, but wait a minute! Now those 16 clerics are blaming the CIA, because the CIA wants Iran to fail and we’re bad and they’re going to have to teach everyone a lesson and eventually they’ll probably nuke themselves because if the 16 clerics can’t have Iran, no one can! What the hell? I want to cuddle those Iranians to my bosom and tell them it’s going to be okay. I want to feed them cookies and put them to bed knowing that they’ll be safe tomorrow. But no, instead they get beaten and hacked with an ax in the streets and the rest of the world watches via twitter and you tube. I know that the US has a lot of fucked up shit going on from time to time, and I get angry and I want to break out every few months, but I am really, truly and profoundly grateful to live in a country where I can speak my mind and say that President Obama is being a real dick about DOMA and other gay issues and, also, got an ugly dog. There. I said it. I don’t think that dog is cute.
So then Michael Jackson up and dies on us and I’m not sure what to believe with all these breaking developments coming out. He died, or did he just go into a coma? No, he’s dead. But wait, maybe he’s just hiking the Appalachian Trail? No, he’s dead now, officially dead. But what about the children? And did he overdose or was it anorexia? Why is Joseph Jackson pimping his new record company at the BET awards when his son just died of a overdheartattorexia? Look, now we hear that he’s not the real father of any of those kids and Debbie Rowe, the mother, isn’t really the biological mother. And maybe the real father is Michael’s dermatologist? What the hell? And now we hear he’s never actually legally adopted them so whose kids are they, really? This is not even to mention any of the weird shit Michael Jackson did in this thing we call his life. Does anyone know what the hell MJ was up to, ever? It’s like a fucking puzzle, those big ones with a thousand pieces but worse, some of them are ripped in half and partially gnawed in the edges but you still need to put it all together to make sense of any of this. Worse yet, no one has heard a peep from Ja Rule. It’s ugly and fascinating all at once, like, well, Michael Jackson. Then Lisa Marie Presley is blogging about their real but unconventional marriage and spilling secrets and it has me thinking about my life, my marriage which is also unusual but not a sham, and I realize one simple truth in all of this: I must outlive Janie because I can’t have her ruining my reputation with the truth when I die.
God bless Michael Jackson, I guess, if there is such a thing. That man was a walking tragedy and, let us not forget, a pedophile. While Dave Chappelle would have us believe that letting kids spend time in your fantasyland ranch riding rides and eating candy and then being plied with pills and booze before getting a blow job is only being a good host, let us not forget that it is not normal to shell out $20 million because you’re innocent. Seriously, folks. That man molested young boys and that’s wrong. He could moonwalk, sing and dance like a motherfucker and we can appreciate that, but we have to look at the entire Michael and realize that there was shit happening that was ugly and unnatural and wrong. I’m talking about his face. That is not normal.
And what the hell is going on in South Carolina where a governor who criticizes gay marriage as unnatural and whatever else people like to throw out there about us disgusting perverts who have the audacity to ask that we be allowed to enter into a legal contract with the one person we want so spend the rest of our lives with is lying to his staff about taking a hiking trip while he really goes to Argentina to bang his mistress, only to come clean when he is totally busted by a reporter when he returns a week later, after no one knows where the hell he has been except for being pretty fucking sure he isn’t in the one place he said he would be? I understand that was a grammatically poor and totally reckless sentence up above but what else can I do to express my complete and total outrage? Why are the “family values” conservatives always shitting on our parade and then going out and having diaper sex with prostitutes? WHY DO REPUBLICANS NOT FIND THIS HYPOCRITICAL BEHAVIOR REALLY FUCKING DISGUSTING? It blows my mind. But in all of this, even when caught red handed, Governor Mark Sanford still lied and said he’d only had these special mistress meetings something like two times in eight years of knowing her, but then he broke down and said maybe it was a few more than that, then maybe a few more and also he might have smooched on some other ladies and for all we know, next week he’ll be telling us that he gave Michael Jackson a blowjob while drunk on Jesus Juice.
Todd Purdum has a Vanity Fair article on Sarah Palin that is damn-near 10,000 words about what an incompetent and egomaniacal asshole she is. I’ve saved you the trouble and read it so that you don’t have to. The only thing you need to know that you didn’t already is this: “When Trig was born, Palin wrote an e-mail letter to friends and relatives, describing the belated news of her pregnancy and detailing Trig’s condition; she wrote the e-mail not in her own name but in God’s, and signed it “Trig’s Creator, Your Heavenly Father.”
To wrap things up on a positive note, follow this link to The New Yorker and enjoy a short story by Lorrie Moore, one of the greatest short fiction writers of all time. When you’re done, come back and watch this squirrel pop out from between a woman’s boobies while she’s being questionsed about a murder:
I like how she just pushes it back in all nonchalant, like it’s totally normal that this squirrel just crawled out from her shirt and no one seemed to ask her what the hell she was doing with a squirrel in her titties. Good God, what is the world coming to? Every time I hear or see this stuff I can’t help but wonder, would this have happened in 1950? Is the world declining so rapidly that it’s now normal for a woman to sprout a squirrel from her chest on a weekday afternoon? I’m going to start a new category here called “would this have happened in 1950?” (but I have to shorten it to WTHHI1950? because otherwise it screws up my category drop down menu and we can’t have that) and we’ll debate whether or not shit like this was normal back in the days of black and white TV, when my dad was a member of a gang called the Dudes and they fought over girls with rocks and lit cigarettes.
Filed Under WTHHI1950?, daily, photo, video | 3 Comments
June 23 2009
As I mentioned last time we did this, many people stumble upon this site via Google and that fact alone is one of my favorite things about having a website - access to search terms. People need answers and sometimes, instead of answers, they get to come visit me and hear about my dad’s heart, my cat shitting on my pillow and a whole lot of bitching and moaning about how my lovely wife will not get off me, already. PLEASE GET OFF ME. I know that when you’re looking for advice on how to exact revenge on your asshole neighbor (tape up their front door with crime scene tape and draw half a chalk body outline sticking out from under the door with, maybe, some fake blood spatter) or whether it is really over when your girlfriend won’t call you after you argue and break up (YES IT IS OVER, unless it isn’t, in which case it should be), the last thing you want to know is that my doctor and wife discussed the size of a certain someone’s vagina while she was sitting a mere 12-17 inches away. So this is for you, Google searcher trying to find out information on how to make your sister hot (Stop, son. STOP). This is all for you.
what it feels like to be naked in public Breezy, I would guess. It depends, because there’s physical feelings and emotional feelings. Are you easily embarrassed? Are you self-conscious? Do you have a really gay tattoo that you’re embarrassed about? Because in addition to breezy, I’m also going to guess that it feels pretty humiliating. Unless you’re Paris Hilton in which case it feels like Friday.
people I’d like to punch in the face So far this month I’ve gotten 38 hits from people searching this on Google. That figure does not include the variations on this search, like 5 people I’d like to punch in the face, Republicans I’d like to punch in the face, and so on. I’m just thinking that if you need to Google this to find ideas for people you may want to punch in the face, then perhaps you’re not really all that eager to punch anyone in the face. Just sayin’.
reading medical on internet give me anxiety WebMD Symptom Checker is our greatest friend and, also, our greatest enemy. Two years ago it convinced me I had MS. It also convinced my sister and Janie that I had it, too. This was all based on a very scary, one-time weird thing that happened. It hasn’t happened since, but every time I add it in to check a symptoms search since then, it tells me I might have MS. So my suggestion is this - go to the doctor. Leave WebMD alone and save yourself the anxiety. But if you want a good idea about what might be wrong with you by looking online, just come over here and look at this special graphic I made just for you.
what to do when your wife do not talk to you You think long and hard about what you did and, if you can, do it again when it is most advantageous for you to have some peace and quiet.
what to do if your wife act like a bitch I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that maybe this is the same person who submitted the previous query.
should i quit figure skating Yes, Tanya Harding. The dream is over.
photo of dave macpherson at disneyland Here you go…from 1955 (as Disneyland’s first visitor) and in 2005.
ishma pointy stick! i cut you i cut you! WTF?
boobies HAHA. Boobies are funny.
lies that teachers tell you Did you go to a Catholic school? Because then it is safe to assume that everything they told you was a lie, especially that part about the Bible and how you can use it to justify your hateful actions and words. Plus all that crap about not having sex before marriage.
screwdriver hot tips Here’s a hot tip: if you need a hot tip on how to work a fucking screwdriver you are so, totally leotarded.
lesbians love terri clark Who wouldn’t? Seriously. I take one look at Terri Clark and I think to myself - who could look at her and not think she is absolutely beautiful and then dream she’ll one day come to their house to make a really delicious turkey sandwich for them? Honestly? If you don’t think Terri Clark is beautiful you’re blind, or Janie. And Janie only says it because she wants to hurt me.
you don t need all that fancy shit to grow weed I know, right? Janie and I just saw season 4 of Weeds last week and they were growing weed in a refrigerator in the back of a cheese store. But mostly you just need a lot of open space, some dirt and a gun.
Obama is retarded Look everybody! John McCain learned how to Google!
is lesbotronic completely free? YES! For God’s sake, didn’t they write that about 400 different ways on the front page of the website? IT IS FREE. Now get over there and find yourself a gay lady.
can a doctor tell if you are gay during an exam If they ask about the free toaster, retreat! He knows to much! RETREAT!
tile shard stuck in eye Yeah. You’re gonna want to see a doctor about that, please and thank you.
should tile removers wear masks Please see the above query for a good example of why the answer to this is yes. Do not chip tile without proper protection. I suggest good clothes, goggles, a mask, some condoms, a gun, some nunchucks, a german shephard, the bible, a young priest and an old priest, a crucifix, rabbit’s foot, a sword and two cigarettes.
im going to throw up Did anyone else Google “mucous plug” after Dooce mentioned that hers fell out a few weeks ago? Did you, unfortunately, catch a glimpse of some search-related images that popped up under the regular search function, completely separate from the image search? Yeah. I’m going to throw up, too.
what will you do after leave here? Well, I’ll go home. Change into something more comfortable, take the dog to the park and watch him get peed on, AGAIN, come home, have some dinner, watch some television, wait for Janie to come home, ask her to remove her top. Ask again. Eat a cookie. Ask Janie to remove her top. Ask again. Have a bath. Read a book. Ask Janie to remove her top. Ask again. Tell her “fine, then. GET OFF ME.” Go to sleep and dream about Janie taking off her shirt. Wake up. Write a concerned fan letter to John and Kate Gosselin. Write a letter of support to seven of those eight Gosselin kids but not that one because she’s just an asshole. Eat breakfast. Cry. Take a shower. Cry some more. Write some poetry. Cry again. Etc.
to do prior to leaving your wife? I don’t know what I write on this website that makes people show up here looking for advice on leaving their wife. I love my wife! But when I leave her, here’s what I’ll do: I’ll pack the cats in one suitcase with their toys and food. Then I’ll pack a second suitcase with clothes, a wash cloth, some fruit snacks, a few dollars in cash, a bus pass and a Bible. Then I’ll put those bags in the building’s hallway, change the locks and tape a note to the door saying “Janie, sorry it has come to this, but I warned you to stop quoting Cry Baby. Gus is mine and so is the bed. Have fun sleeping in Howard’s yard with only his naked body and that wash cloth to keep you warm on those cold spring evenings.”
Well, that about does it for this volume, friends.
Thanks and good luck, especially to that guy looking for tips on how to relieve his burning a-hole (ice cream and lots of it. keep it coming.).
-Linsey
Filed Under daily, open letter | 7 Comments
June 19 2009
“I will participate in the demonstrations tomorrow. Maybe they will turn violent. Maybe I will be one of the people who is going to get killed. I’m listening to all my favorite music. I even want to dance to a few songs. I always wanted to have very narrow eyebrows. Yes, maybe I will go to the salon before I go tomorrow! There are a few great movie scenes that I also have to see. I should drop by the library, too. It’s worth to read the poems of Forough and Shamloo again. All family pictures have to be reviewed, too. I have to call my friends as well to say goodbye. All I have are two bookshelves which I told my family who should receive them. I’m two units away from getting my bachelors degree but who cares about that. My mind is very chaotic. I wrote these random sentences for the next generation so they know we were not just emotional and under peer pressure. So they know that we did everything we could to create a better future for them. So they know that our ancestors surrendered to Arabs and Mongols but did not surrender to despotism. This note is dedicated to tomorrow’s children…” - an Iranian blogger
[via]
Filed Under history lesson, religion, tiny | 1 Comment
June 18 2009
Several years ago, way back when I was in college for the first time, a class of mine went to participate in a round table discussion with David Foster Wallace. He was spending some time on campus terrorizing young writers with his particular brand of arrogance and whatever else. I know he’s dead, but even to this day I can’t separate him from that experience, when I found him to be such an assholey asshole. Sometimes writers take themselves far too seriously. This was, after spending several minutes calculating the time line with Janie, not too long after his book Infinite Jest had come out and he’d received the MacArthur Foundation’s “Genius Grant.” I guess he was feeling proud of himself for cranking out his great American novel and being referred to as a genius. Or some shit. I don’t know. The bitterness is clouding my memory.
In my attempts to get past this image of an arrogant genius that has kept me from enjoying his epic novel, I decided to participate in a project called Infinite Summer. It’s a group of people who are dedicated to reading Infinite Jest over the summer, about 75 pages per week, and then discussing it, as a community.
Last night Janie brought the book home from the library. She read me the first paragraph as I chopped up some vegetables. I have no idea what it was about. Something about someone in a room with some people?
Anyhow, if yo’re intersted in reading this book in much the same way you were interested in following that Oprah 21 day cleanse with me, meaning you want to torture yourself for weeks, join me…join us all…let us read this book and talk about it and then feel smug for having done so. Maybe after all is said and done, in the wee hours of a September morning, we will forgive David Foster Wallace for that afternoon in 1997 when the only thing memorable he ever said was that he didn’t watch TV except for the episodes of Ally McBeal that his friends taped for him.
Filed Under books | 4 Comments
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