Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Lookin to the East
Friday, May 26, 2006
Band of the Week: Rebel Meets Rebel
Thursday, May 25, 2006
HNT Elmohammed: Freeze Bitch
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Meet the New...Improved, Face of the Republican Party
'06 is lookn' goooooooood for you guys...
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
National Review Online Sucks
Did you read their editorial today? Some duschbag is pissed that John Murtha (D-PA), and former U.S. Navy General Counsel Alberto Mora won the John F. Kennedy Profile in Courage Award.
The award is presented to public servants who have withstood strong opposition to follow what they believe is the right course of action.
The editorial's author is dumbfounded; how could Murtha and Mora get this award? I mean, they told the truth! How can we put a pretty face on the war in Iraq with traitors like these running around telling the truth!!!
People actually subscribe to this crap.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Please Mavericks, Kick the Spur's Ass
I know your playing on their home court for this game seven, (that's game "7" for you ditto heads) But you better run their asses into the ground..run, run, run...they will miss most of their free throws if you do. And hit your jump shots for Christ sake! Get mad, fuck that, get mean...work them over like a Tom Delay slave laborer in Saipan. DON'T YOU GO FUCKN' WEAK ON ME NOW!!!!
Bank on 9/11
A lot of banks in Texas gave 9/11 "S.T.A.R." loans to any 'ol rutin-tutin small business they wanted to. And they would have gotten away with it too...if it wasn't for those pesky liberals in Austin! (video link: a short hummer ad plays first)
Friday, May 19, 2006
Band of the Week: Seaflea
I was thinking of the Major Instruments one would need to torture Donald Rumsfeld. The best I could think of is to have him sail the seven seas forever in a Seaflea infested ship. Nölff would have his face eaten off by a polar bear, but a long excruciating microbial infestation coupled with insanity, while not instantly gratifying, gives years of assurances that your day will always be better than Donald's.
Can't you see him crawling up the main staff proclaiming "there's Flowers in the Attic!" Can't you see him waking up from bad dreams Screaming "How can we find the Roman Empire without a map?" He'd be huddled deep in a corner scraping his scabs and sobbing "Warn you with a Whisper" and "I was supposed to be Cured by Braces!"
Did you see Rummy on that Terrorist Sympathizer's show last night? He said "We can't lose the war in Iraq 'in Iraq.' We can only lose it in Washington." Referring to Congress and the American people losing their nerve. Well I say he's half right, Washington did lose the war...the day Dubya was sworn in.
BONUS TRACK: It's Hard to be a Republican
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Black Jack Mountain
Black Jack, Missouri has defined what constitutes a Family with law, and it ain't lookn' like this...
This couple was denied an occupancy permit after moving into a home in a St. Louis suburb(Black Jack) because they have three children and are not married.
Mayor Norman McCourt declined to be interviewed but said in a statement that those who do not meet the town's definition of family could soon face eviction.
Whoooo philly, hold your horses. This is the best part:
Black Jack resident Rose Curtis, 65, said she thought the City Council made the right decision.
"As a woman, I'm not going to let a man have babies by me and not marry me," Curtis said. "I think it was a fair decision. It's cut and dried."
"Cut and dried" alright...visit Black Jack headquarters.
Monday, May 15, 2006
And Vacation Down at the Gulf of Mexico...Ohhh Yeah
Friday, May 12, 2006
Band of the Week: Opposite Day
Opposite Day my ass! This is opposite decade! Weakness is strength, war is peace, yada yada...you know, Bush world.
Just listen to Mr. Plain, be mesmerized by his swagger...then zone out.
You think, "Why did he Smile at Kathleen," "when did she join the press corp?" That's when your survival skills kick in. You quickly throw softballs at President Bush because you would Take Off Your Arm before losing this gig. Ending up in the whoscow doing Paperwork for the man is not a pleasant thought. So you pretend Like Your An Alien, not understanding a word he is saying.
Because of you dushbags, the only one who can save us, is...Spy Girl!
Come to Austin Saturday and see Opposite Day at Ruta Maya.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
The Drug of War
I d.a.r.e. you to read the whole thing. Written by some dude called Hellblazer from the Shadow Recon Platoon of 2-63AR BN.
If one repeatedly rubs their hand lightly across a rough surface, the hand will become numb to the sensation and to any sensation of equal or lesser intensity. This holds true for the mind. If one constantly exposes themselves to extreme situations, then all sensations there after of equal or lesser intensity offer no stimulation. A heroin addict must constantly increase the dose because the mind has grown tolerant to a lower dosage. A cocaine addict must snort more and more to obtain the same rush of endorphins that was felt the first time. This constant increase to obtain a desired effect is met with graduation to a more intense medium or fatality. However, a higher dosage or different medium does not always exist to take the addict to the next level, and even if he were to continue to utilize his current choices, the supply is not always infinite. When the supply diminishes, one is left numb to all sensation, and hence follows an increasingly desperate situation. For the soldier; war is his drug. His mind grows an addiction to its ravenous stimuli from abnormally stressful situations. His time within this medium is finite, and when it comes to an end, he will find it hard to deal with his unwanted addiction. This is the tragedy of all those who have fallen to the drug of war, myself included. Life becomes dull and frustrating. Normal situations make one feel a sense of anxiety, of desperation, as if constantly hoping for a sudden horrible rage to sweep across and take normal right down to hell, where things are violent, and gruesome, and stimulating, and the adrenaline flows. Where veins bulge and the mind sweats, and purpose is abundantly clear, to fight, to win, to love the drug of war. But it is no more. I feel the phantom left behind by this drug milling around in my mind, and I hear its fateful whispers, begging me to take it back to where the drug flows endless. I beat this demon down everyday, and come to grips with my reality. That I am a shelved piece of machinery that must now perform tasks it was never meant to. This is life for those whose purpose was unique but is no more. This is life through the eyes of a weapon of which the machine has no use for anymore.
Normal people can sit in front of the television for hours, hypnotized by its glow. I too am hypnotized by the colorful piece of technology, but this only makes me think of things that have come to pass. I become mesmerized and soon feel myself drifting into deep thought, where I reflect on the time when watching a movie on my dusty television was a temporary escape from the madness that surrounded me. I always go back to many times where I would be watching television, and my mind would suddenly be ripped out of its blissful hypnosis. Some barking doomsayer telling me I had to go exterminate a hoard of insurgents that were armed to the teeth and sure to totally annihilate all in their path if I did not get my ass up from that television and get my war on. It is not only my mind, but also the television itself that can sometimes remind of me of yesteryear. The news-ticker that flutters at the bottom of the screen is like a scoreboard for the big game going on 3000 miles away. I'll see a familiar name of a town or city, and quickly be sucked through a tunnel, and put right back in the turret of the war machine, cruising through the streets of the before mentioned town. Sometimes my mind gets confused as to why the couch has suddenly been turned into a nylon strap, suspending my body in my armored devil. I might even be so lucky as to have a scent receptor in my nose short circuit and suddenly send the smell of shit-filled dust into my mind. Those sort of high quality trips are few and far between, but none-the-less, noteworthy experiences. Not even the machine that has been said to be responsible for the degradation of youthful intelligence, the television, can keep my mind far from where it wants to be.
Driving presents its own unique set of experiences. Everyone at one point or another daydreams while cruising down the highway in their vehicles. Perhaps it is the flash card animation of lane markings that streams from an infinitely distant focal point or the gentle hum of the engine and the wind rushing by. But unlike soccer moms wondering if they are forgetting a child, or young teenagers imagining themselves performing the songs on the radio, I find myself imagining those long dusty desert highways that seemed to go on forever. Those highways who’s beautifully barren surroundings looked so familiar to the photographs taken by some robotic probe on Mars. That foreign planet that seemed so desperately inhospitable. Just as I’ve made peace with the vicious beauty, and temporarily looking through this strange perception, I am suddenly surrounded by the angry inhabitants of this barren world, who want nothing more then to rid their world of these dastardly villains. This is all a hallucination, and I suddenly find myself drifting onto the shoulder of the highway, perspiring slightly and clinching the steering wheel. I find myself completely in shock, and desperately try to rid my mind of these foul memories.
It is not just the constantly resurfacing memories that plague my psyche everyday, but the alienation I feel. My experiences and my grasp on the world separate me from the people around me who are strangers to the hell their fellow human beings are capable of. Who speak of war as if it is their entertainment, as if they are residents of a city who’s team is nearly undefeated on the road. I am alienated from these people who buy me drinks and praise me for my service to their country. Who thank me for all those dirty Arab bastards that I ghosted in the name of freedom, democracy, basic cable, and free trips to the salad bar. I am not these pseudo patriots who go on to tell me how they would’ve been in the desert with me, if they didn’t have such a dynamite job, or a bad knee, or a promising future at the local university. I hate them for their gross ignorance, as they declare they would kill without hesitation. I envy them for the fact they unknowingly avoided a completely screwed existence and I loathe the reasoning that those who never went wish they did, and those that have wish they hadn’t. How those who were there that never quenched their urge to kill bullshit themselves silly in order to make up for the sense of inferiority that they have imposed upon themselves and how those who did wish they never had. I often find myself at the bar, briefly separated from my newly found friends who are strangers to my world, and begin to deeply miss those that shared my experiences. The ones that match me in all categories, the ones whom I could have a conversation with and didn’t try to make up for their regrets by trying to share my experiences that they deem glorious. I miss the bond we had, “we few, we happy few, we band of brothers. For he today who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. Be he ne’er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition, and gentlemen in England now abed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhood cheap whilst any speaks, that fought with us…” It only aggravates me further to know that William Shakespeare would have made better company then those surrounding me now.
No matter what I’m doing, or where I am at, nothing can keep my mind from reeling for that drug once more. It cries out in agony and makes me wish it never happened, when in reality, all my mind wants is more, more, more. To return to that time when the skills bestowed upon it were so easily applied to the tasks at hand. There is a sliver of light that breaks through the fog, that being that I wasn’t always this instrument of war. My mind and body was merely transformed to suit the needs of the powers to be. Before I was the soldier, the killer, the destroyer of worlds; I was innocent, and naïve, and unknowing of the horrors that my fellow humans were capable of. I was proud of the soldier and praised him for every enemy he killed, and I lavished in the thought that I too would do the same. I told myself that I would be there if it weren’t for the fact that I was too young, or still in school, or desperately in love with a girl. But this picture of the past is only just that, a picture. As a lethal sword was once nothing more then metal in the earth, I was once but a simple boy before I became a soldier. Just as that sword will never return to the earth, I will never again be a simple boy. I can only hope that by voicing how my experiences have changed my life, I can minimize the number of people that have to go through the same, and those that must, do so for a good reason.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Bush on United 93: "I believe that it was the first counterattack of World War III"
Monday, May 08, 2006
Dale Earnhardt, Jr. Liberal Stud
Say what you want about NASCAR, but their golden boy is a liberal. The fascist tried to blacklist him like they did the Dixie Chicks but it didn't work, he's more popular than ever. Dale Jr. won this weekend in Richmond, Va.
He took his crew to see "Fahrenheit 9/11" when it came out. My favorite Dale Earnhardt, Jr. Quote (About the confederate flag)...
"...anybody who is trying to show that flag is probably too ignorant to know what the hell he's doing."
Friday, May 05, 2006
Band of the Week: By Any Means Necessary
Thursday, May 04, 2006
HNT: Breakfast of Champions
Merle Haggard had it right in his 70's hit "Rainbow Stew."
When they find out how to burn water,
And the gasoline car is gone.
When an airplane flies without any fuel,
And the satellite heats our home.
One of these days when the air clears up,
And the sun comes shinin' through.
We'll all be drinkin' that free bubble-ubb,
An' eatin' that rainbow stew.
Last night, on C-SPAN around 10:30pm EST, Rep. Steven King from Iowa said his wife would be "statistically" safer in Iraq than she is in Washington D.C. He said "the military action in Iraq is nearly at it's completion." Then he went on to say America could have won Vietnam if the media hadn't fucked it all up. He said, and I quote, "We lost Vietnam because of our Democracy." THESE DUMB ASSES ARE RUNNING OUR FUCKING COUNTRY PEOPLE!!!
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
President Elmo Adds Signing Statement to "Anti ChickenHawk Bashing Act of 2006" Infuriating Senator Frist
President Elmo signed the "Anti ChickenHawk Bashing Act of 2006" pushed through congress by the Republican majority on Wednesday. With the Republicans having the two-thirds votes to override a veto, the president signed the legislation but added a signing statement, virtually gutting the bill.
The bill, written by the national Young Republican lobby, makes it a felony punishable by up to 20 years in federal prison to harass any Young Republican not willing to fight in Iraq. However, the president added a signing statement which his critics say is nothing but a backdoor way to end the war in Iraq.
President's Statement on Signing of H.R. 666, the "Anti ChickenHawk Bashing Act of 2006"
"The executive branch shall construe provisions of the Act relating to bad-mouthing, bashing, belittling, berating, cussing out, cutting down, defaming, dumping on, insulting, nagging, offending, picking on, putting down, ragging, ranking out, reviling, riding, ripping up, running down, scolding, slamming, smearing and trashing of ChickenHawks to be totally ridicules and shall reward any persons use of the above which results in the enlisting of a Young Republican. Here forth any enlisted persons in Iraq may return immediately if they so chose to inflict any of the above abuse on Young Republicans."
Senator Frist confronted the president at the signing ceremony which resulted in a very odd exchange. Sen. Frist went on about "unconstitutional" this and "unconstitutional" that while the President mocked his every word in an extremely childish manner. As the Senator stormed off, the President flicked his fingers under his chin at him while laughing uncontrollably.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Meet the 101st Fighting Keyboardists
I believe the term "101st Fighting Keyboards" was coined by TBogg. The "101st" refers to the 101st Airborne Division in Ft. Campbell KY., and the "Fighting Keyboards" refers to conservative bloggers passionately supporting the Iraq war.
However, a group of conservative bloggers have taken this purely derogatory term and tried to inject courage into it. How fucking hilarious! Get your boots on the ground in Iraq and stop being cowards. I don't care how many words a minute you can type, your blogs will never defeat the terrorist. Fuck'n pansies. General Patton is rolling over in his grave.
Try as you might to legitimize your cowardice, but your all clearly defined by one word...
Chickenhawk n. A person enthusiastic about war, provided someone else fights it; particularly when that enthusiasm is undimmed by personal experience with war; most emphatically when that lack of experience came in spite of ample opportunity in that person’s youth.