Archive for February 3rd, 2009


WikiHow Of The Day!

I just have to start chronicling them, because sometimes they are pure magic. From my iGoogle startup page:


I imagine it would be easier to bake a cake in a mug were you yourself the “sizzling hot” oven. Thanks for the two-fer, WikiHow!


My Nominee For The New Head Of The FCC

After a morning of blogging like a crazed badger whose very ferocity has been impuned, I offer this palate-cleansing morsel, which has given me hope yet that my homeland still has spunk, if you will:

Porn Clip Interrupts The Super Bowl

The only way this could have been better would have been if it were starring Meghan McCain.



I know I’ve already “hated on” (as the kids say) David Denby’s idiotic book, Snark, but he was just on NPR defending it, and I feel that something he said in his book’s defense really needs to be noted.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should note that this account was written by another loyal Wonkette reader:

He stammers through not knowing [the author of the piece on Chelsea Clinton, whom he’d claimed was female] was a dude before going on to say that [Wonkette] is, “mostly written by women… and reflects the nasty, mean nature of snark” or words to that effect.

(I’ve gotten into the habit of saying “douche” in a particularly low-voiced, diaphragm-based way when I think the situation/outfit/person merits it, and this is how I’ve chosen to transcribe it. It’s not perfect, but I think it works.)They can't throw spirals either.

So, let me get this straight, Denby: You think that snark is factless, immoral, and mean. And that a site which you insist is mostly written by women (NB: Wonkette has only one female associate editor) evinces this perfectly. And, when confronted by your own factual error, you reiterate that you’re really right about this site being nasty, snarky…oh, and also that it’s written by women.

Have I covered it there? Anything else I should add? E-fucking-GADS, man, what a colosally DOOOOOSH-y thing to say. Is your ex-wife currently living in a house you pay for while she’s banging your best friend or something? And what in holy hell was going through your mind when you made that argument on NPR? Yikes, did you think their not-so-secret feminist base, bowing to your obvious knowledge of all things female and intellectual, would then run out and buy your stinking corpse of a book?

So, yeah, I think this asshat needs to be specTACularly canned, dragged through the streets naked, and violated in every orifice he has. And to show I’m not discriminating based on gender, I firmly believe the same should happen to the editors of one of the targets in his book, Jezebel, who still employ the idiot bitches who went on Lizz Winstead’s show, Thinking And Drinking, and, in the name of “edgy feminist humor,” said that there is no such thing as a woman being raped if she brings the guy home first, since you know she wanted it. So, truly, I am an equal opportunity wisher-of-horrible-fates. (I’m with Lizz Winstead, though: The worst part about that those flaps of skin at Jezebel is that their fan base rallied to their support. Had those things been said by anyone with a penis, I’m curious how they’d have reacted. Really, ladies, there’s nothing wrong with pointing to when one of us has done or said something really stupid. It doesn’t make you a traitor, but being an apologist for the inane remarks does make you complicit in them.)

Alright, I think I’ve exorcised the ol’ noggin demons now. *DEEP breath*


Reefer Madness

OK, this has nothing really to do with my blog, aside from it being a rant against the U.S. tendency to embrace puritanism in all its forms, but I’m just really angry right now.

As those of you with a computer/TV/friend undoubtedly know, Michael Phelps was recently caught on film smoking out of a bong. Gasp! A 24-year-old smoking the demon weed? Can it be??? Granted, this particular 24-year-old fitness-buff-cum-drug-fiend is mildly more surprising than, say, Kate Moss was when she was “discovered” doing lines (a model AND a cokehead?!?!), but still…come on, everyone. Take a deep breath, remember that this kid is wildly healthy and, aside from fucking sketchier Vegas barmaids than George Clooney, a pretty good role model. Don’t bring up Obama’s half brother getting arrested for pot either. First of all, he’s one of his Kenyan half-siblings whom he’s likely met at most once. Further, the guy was arrested for having one joint on him. Aside from me thinking it a bit odd to be doing anything munchies-inducing in a country that has a tough time giving its populous enough food to stay alive, I don’t begrudge the man his need to escape either.
So, let’s just relax and look at this. If you’d like, smoke a bowl, cue up a Family Guy, and grab yourself a big bag of Cheetos, cause this’ll only take a minute. That better? ‘Kay, then…

Let’s put aside for a moment the nitty gritty details of the Phelps “scandal.” What I’m really angry about is the outdated and utterly stupid continuation to criminalize and scandalize marijuana. I know I sound like…well, what I am (a native of the town that birthed the Grateful Dead), but, believe it or not, I’m not a huge pothead. Rather, I’m just someone with an ounce (dimebag?) of common sense. In case you are not insomniac addicts of the History Channel and missed its chronicling of the criminalization of drugs, here’s a synopsis of what happened to pot:

Pushed by the late Federal Bureau of Narcotics, “The Marihuana Tax Act of 1937” required taxes, and registration, from individuals importing, producing, selling or prescribing marijuana.
The tax required a yearly fee plus a fee at each point the substance was transferred. Transfer could be made to individuals not registered with a special order form and a tax rate of $100 per ounce.
Under the law, an unregistered person caught with untaxed marijuana could be punished by up to five years in prison and a fine up to $2,000, or both.Be afraid
The bill for the Marihuana Tax Act reportedly swept swiftly through the House of Representatives and Senate with little discussion and attention, drawing only three lines in the New York Times:
“President Roosevelt signed today a bill to curb traffic in the narcotic, marihuana, through heavy taxes on transactions.”

So what started this whole ball rolling? Racism. Yup, that’s right. It was Texan and Arizonan and Southern Californian racist a-holes who were looking for some way to either marginalize, jail, or deport the Mexican immigrants they felt were taking over their towns. Knowing they tended to grow the stuff for private consumption, they proposed a tax they knew they couldn’t pay. Period. There was no sudden spike in marijuana-related deaths or injuries, no rash of crimes committed by addicts. This law was enacted because those aw-shucks-Ma’am-in’ good ol’ boys hated Messicans.

Penalties stiffened when the Boggs Act was enacted in 1951.
Brought forth by Congressman Hale Boggs, the new law called for imprisonment of two to five years for a first-time drug related offense, five to 10 years for second offense and 10 to 20 years for a third offense.
It was also in the Boggs Act that marijuana came to be classified under the theory of the “stepping stone,” later called the “gateway drug.”

And this came about because of typical American prissy hysteria over the fact that the government hadn’t done enough to eradicate the drug’s existence (and, remember, for those of you SAT/Conan fans, “marijuana” is to “Mexican,” as “Lindsay Lohan” is to “star of The Surreal Life XIII”). So, those heavy-lobbying farmers from the aforementioned regions thought up a way to eradicate said scourge from their lily-white, erm, fields. And that way was to send them to jail. As to the nefarious effects of the drug? In the immortal words of Strangers With Candy‘s Mr. Jellineck, “If you’re going to smoke marijuana you have to be prepared to spend a lot of time laughing with your friends.”

So, there. Now we all know the truth of the matter. Back to other hippie pursuits (basket weaving, hackey sack, working in academia).


Signs Of The Thaw

Rotten EggheadPhil may have seen his shadow, the bastard, thereby single-handedly plunging us head-first back into the dark ages for the next fortnight or two, but there are signs of an imminent thaw.  Rove also saw his shadow, which, as you may remember, I think signals a new era in Washington.  A springtime, if you will.  (I know, I know, enough of that metaphor.  In honor of new beginnings, it will now be retired.)

Rove Will Cooperate With DOJ Probes

Maybe now our nation can heal a little.  And I can go back to tittering whenever I read the word “probes.”

February 2009