Monday, December 29, 2008

Modern Teens and Sex: Refreshing Thoughts from America's Most Trusted Scribe, Part One

Looking back on my teenage years, I'm reminded of two guiding motives that pushed my confused skeletal frame through high school hell. These were:

1. I need to get laid (the sooner the better), and will do anything to do so.

2. If I have sex before marriage, I'll consign my soul to endless damnation. So, I better not stuff the purple tube steak in the aromatic meat sleeve.

You see the conundrum, don't you? While my adolescent hormones were driving me toward damnation, my still somewhat Catholic conscience said, "Do you really want to spend an eternity in hell, Craig? Remember: Eternity means FOREVER."

(Un)Luckily for me, sex was merely a dream for my scrawny ass during those public school years. The battlefield remained solely mental until my seventeenth year, when the opportunity came for me to emulate my porn hero Ron Jeremy.

I'm only kidding. I never had a porn hero. But Ron was nice enough to take a photo with me. Thanks, bud.

Back to the subject at hand: When the chance came to take little Craig out for his inaugural spin, we'll just say my physical demon beat the Christ out of my conscience with his tremendously engorged phallic member, (in fairness, my conscience made a serious comeback AFTER the act. Only a ham sandwich could calm my turbulently boiling gut).

Today's teens aren't going through anything different. The moral conflict has only shifted, becoming more publicized with technological advances. Still, we have two moral extremes, mental and physical, fighting one another for attention and supremacy.

On the mind side, we have Joe Jonas of The Jonas Brothers, literally wearing his vowed virginity on his finger in the form of a purity ring.

On the body side, there's a study stating 20% of teens have published nude photos of themselves online.

In part two, we'll discuss purity rings and abstinence. In part three, I'll look at some nude photos... ahem... examine the teenage... well, there's just no right way to say it: We'll check out the teen nude photo phenomenon. In part four, we'll bring abstinence and pornography together and attempt to reconcile the two... or maybe I'll just mock everything and sum it all up.

Part two: Coming soon.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

One Tiny Step Forward After a Giant Leap Back

In what can only be described as a bittersweet day for gay activists, Newsweek claimed Barack Obama was considering a gay man for Secretary of the Navy, while the US stood alone amongst all Western nations in declining to sign a UN declaration calling for worldwide decriminalization of homosexuality.  These articles demonstrate the tremendous ideological rift between the current and future administrations, and the hope President-elect Obama brings to those seeking true equality and human rights.

Though personally appalled by Obama's campaign stance against gay marriage, I believe if he'd openly backed it he may not have won the primary, never mind the general election.

Sure, a stand for gay marriage would've made a brave statement. But it wouldn't have won Obama any votes, as he already had an overwhelming lead amongst very liberal voters. However, in the toss-up swing counties of rural Ohio and Pennsylvania, there's a good chance a pro-gay marriage stance would've lost Obama much swing-vote support.

Now, with the President-elect vetting an openly gay man for the Secretary of the Navy position, it seems Obama's stance against gay marriage may've been a matter of saying what was necessary to get elected. After all, if he can overturn the silly "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy regarding gays in the military, one can only assume a pro-gay marriage shift can't be far behind.

This will anger many Americans. For whatever reason, they feel marriage is some sacred sacrament, open only to god-fearing heterosexuals. Of course, this is purely discrimination. I could go point by point here, talking about how marriage is a declining institution, but it has already been done elsewhere.

So: What are we afraid of? Are we horrified by the idea of homosexual lovers prancing along the front lines of Iraq? Because if history tells us anything, it's that soldiers participating in homosexual relationships (the sacred band of Thebes, the Spartans, Achilles and Patroclus, Alexander the Great) make pretty damned good warriors.

Are we worried that as homosexuality becomes more acceptable, more will "become" homosexual? Because history has shown us that, even when homosexuality was an accepted fact of life, the human race had no trouble breeding itself to dangerous proportions. Believe it or not, heterosexuality and heterosexual marriage won't die out with the institution of gay marriage and decriminalization of homosexuality.

Or, is it that scenes like the one above make us uncomfortable?

You know, some states in this country STILL legally discriminate against sexual orientation. Yet Mexico (the country right-wing pundits always talk down as a corrupt Third World nation) signed the landmark UN declaration. You tell me which country seems more a cornerstone of human rights.

After Premier Bush finally leaves office (he's only got little more than a month left. WOOHOO!), this country needs to take a critical look at itself and its racial, religious, and sexual prejudices. Though President-elect Obama will bring serious change (and hopefully a Civil Rights Act-like Sexual Equality Act) during his first term, I hope he doesn't let we, as a nation, off the hook for our collective bigotry.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

KY: Not Just for Females

I've received some flak for mentioning KY brand lubricants in my last blog. Seems someone was a little upset that I lacked a certain sensitivity for those suffering with vaginal dryness.

Well, let me preface this retort by saying I apologize for nothing. Vaginal dryness remains one of those unpleasant facts of life (like farting and premature ejaculation) that nobody wants brought to the fore.

But let's talk about it here. This is somewhat an open forum. We can talk about whatever we choose.

Ok. This isn't an open forum at all. This is my little dictatorship, and I rule it with an iron fist.

But hey: If you want to discuss dry vaginas, I'm all for it. Though let's not talk too much... I'm getting a none too pleasant mental image of cute nonagenarian actress Ellen Albertini Dow in coitus.

Eww. That just wasn't right. I apologize for that one.

The funny thing about this whole KY snafu is that the lubricant could work for either Madonna or A-Rod. And after the ass-raping she received in divorce court, I think A-Rod's going to need the KY. Makes the strap-on sink in so much easier.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Madonna, Hang it Up Already

There's been a lot in the news about Madonna's big money divorce from director Guy Ritchie. And the more I hear (and see) of her, the more I wish she'd just go away.

Let's face it. Madonna's good days are LOOONNNNNG behind her. Yet she insists on heading out of one of her many mansions in next to nothing other than fifty pounds of makeup. Everywhere I look, somebody's talking about what a great body she has for her age, what awesome biceps, legs, etc.

Well, I don't know about you, but when I see Madonna, I see Skeletor's evil queen. Veiny ladies just aren't hot. They're manly.

Furthermore, she's one of the most disingenuous people on the planet. Such a chameleon she's become a caricature of herself. I remember seeing an interview with her a few years ago when she busted out a British accent. She's kidding no one but herself by dressing in skimpy clothes and cowboy hats. No longer a trend-setter, Madonna's a walking punchline.

Let's get something perfectly clear, here. I'm not saying fifty plus year old women can't be hot. Quite the contrary. For example, I think Helen Mirren is hot, and she's sixty-three.

What I am saying is that Madonna isn't hot. In fact, she's downright disgusting.

And what's the deal with A-Rod going out with her? As if I needed another reason to hate the Yankees, this moron trades in his absolute smokeshow wife for a waning shade of her former self. Talk about trading up.

I just don't get it. A-Rod's the highest paid player in baseball, so it's not like he needs the money. And having Madonna on your arm is no longer a prestige piece: More like escorting Joan Rivers to those red carpet events. But hey: Whatever floats your boat. Just remember to pack the KY, A-Rod. You're going to need it.

Monday, November 24, 2008


When I caught this story, I thought, Wow. The Vatican has been out of the news for awhile.

But this? Pardoning John Lennon 42 YEARS after he said The Beatles were bigger than Jesus Christ? You've got to be shittin' me.

Talk about a reach. After 42 years, nobody gives a shit what some punk kid with a mop top said about rock being bigger than Christianity. Furthermore, no one but those stuffed shirt Vatican Catholics, with their silly hats and pseudo-mysterious pomp and circumstance, thinks Lennon needed a Vatican pardon.

This religion and its figurehead become less and less relevant by the day. And what do they do to get in the news? Allow priesthood to women, or reverse course and allow priests to marry? Reverse stance on homosexuals, or take a kinder tack on birth control? Take a rational view on abortion?

Of course not. The inconsequential decision of pardoning the long dead Lennon was far more important than making a decision that would actually resonate.

Thursday, November 20, 2008


Pirates are once again in the news.

And not of the Caribbean, though I wish that were the case. They're all just a bunch of sexy, mascara-smearing, fun-loving drunks, weebling and wobbling their way from port to port, robbing from rich, well-armed nations and giving those doubloons to the poor... by spending them on rum and ivory chested wenches.

But no. Those quaint good old days are far in the past. Nowadays, we're talking about real deal, technologically modern Somali pirates, cruising the Indian Ocean, armed to the gills with AK47s and RPGs (I wonder where they got those RUSSIA), looking for easy prey (i.e. unarmed oil tankers, merchant freighters, cruise ships, etc.).

These Somali pirates have been quite successful. Currently, they have 20 ships under their control, ranging from, well, freighters to oil tankers. They've demanded a 25 million dollar payoff to release a recently captured Saudi oil tanker. And they're currently sitting on a freight ship loaded with enough supplies to arm a small country.

Now, this isn't the first instance of piracy in the present day. In fact, the practice is quite common. We just don't hear about it. Such acts occur south of Mexico, in the Gulf and near Baja. These pirates often attack drug smugglers.

And in the waters of Indonesia, pirates have been known to attack any ships unlucky enough to stumble upon them. They attack so often that merchant vessels traveling the Indonesian Straits of Malacca usually arm themselves with well-trained, well-armed, and well-paid mercenaries. As you can imagine, vessels sailing through either area pay heavy insurance premiums.

Thing is, I really don't understand how undeveloped, "Third World" countries can put together such successful piracy organizations in seas heavily patrolled by well-armed navies. It just doesn't make any sense. A dozen or so Somalis in little craft, creeping in the night with rope ladders and taking a monstrous oil tanker hostage. It just doesn't add up.

And neither do the excuses given by the world's navies. They claim that these bodies of water are just too big to properly patrol.


Point is, I've got a simple solution for ending piracy, and it's called the decoy. Take an oil tanker (or freighter or what have you) flying the Saudi or Yemeni flag. Make sure that it is at least double (if not triple) hulled, to prepare for a possible RPG attack.

Arm that tanker AS IF YOU ARE PREPARING FOR MODERN NAVAL WARFARE. Night vision. Radar. Sonar. Etcetera.

Now, here's the tricky part. This tanker has to LOOK like a tanker. It can't look like a battleship, for shits sake. That'll scare the pirates away. So, everyone on board is to wear coveralls and what not - whatever sailors wear (just not the gay sailor outfits... that may be pouring things on a little too thick).

Then, the ship must act as bait. Sail slowly, not far from the Somali coast. Remember: We're trying to draw out the fuckers here.

And without a doubt, a slow-moving freighter/tanker will be one of those must-haves for your typical Somali pirate: Especially if those Saudis give them the 25 million dollar ransom.

When the pirates strike (and they will) we retaliate mercilessly. Kill everyone involved. Sink all of their ships. And if things get hairy, call for help. There are plenty of navies out there.

After the shitstorm, continue sailing down the coast. Most likely, these Somali pirates are separate groups not in contact with each other. There's a good chance another bunch could be drawn in by the bait. If that happens, repeat the retaliation sequence. And so on.

Then again, let's look on the bright side of things here. We should be thanking these Somali pirates. Their actions have given us a chance for international cooperation and unilateral response. This could be the crisis that brings the world together again to fight a common enemy - the Pirate scourge.

But given that Premier Bush is in office for another two months, I think it highly unlikely that such unilateral cooperation will happen any time soon. One can only hope that time flies.

Monday, November 17, 2008

What's in a Name?

Now that there's a little Craig on the way, I've been spending quite a bit of time researching names. The lady and I have decided we'd like something British Isles in origin: Scots-Irish specifically.

Strangely enough, we've had little difficulty with female names. We both like names that can work for either sex for girls. For example, I like the names Aidan, Blair, Blake, Caley, Rian and Sian (Sean). And we're pretty much in agreement on some of these. Of course, we haven't narrowed things down yet. But there's plenty of time for that.

The boys' names, however, have proven a sticky wicket. For example, I'm a fan of the names Geoghan and Tadgh (pronounced Guillen and Tige, like tiger minus the r). But the spelling of these names has proven an issue. Should the poor kid have to tote around a Scots-Irish pronunciation key with him to school? Should he have to explain himself at every turn? Won't this get tiresome/annoying?

As for the lady, she likes Cade. But this is problematic. You see, the main character in much of my fiction is named Caden, Cade for short. And Caden gets into a shitload of shenanigans. Basically, I don't want the child named after an alterego.

And then there's Tavis. I prefer a different spelling of the name: Tavish. And there we differ.

I never thought this name choosing would be so difficult. I imagined we'd hack it out in an hour or two and that'd be that. Not so.

You're branding your child with an identity. That name you give him or her builds character. And you don't want to screw up.

So, I like Geoghan and Tadgh, Riordan, Madoc and Tavish. One can always change the spelling to make things easier to pronounce.

Any suggestions?

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

on the mad men season finale

When I watched this season's "Mad Men" season finale, I felt disgusted and betrayed. Then, I took a step back and looked at myself.

And still felt disgusted and betrayed.

Now, if you don't watch "Mad Men" and haven't kept up with the series, don't bother reading this article. I'm not going to provide background and bring you up to speed. You may do that on your own, if you'd like. The entirety of Season 2 may be found On Demand.


So, moving on. Betty Draper. Don Draper's oft betrayed wife. Season 2 was more or less a study in Betty's loss of innocence, and descent into near madness after separating from Don.

The season finale depicted Betty's final fall into the depths of a downward moral spiral. After discovering she was pregnant and contemplating abortion, Betty runs into Don. He wants to reconcile.

She says no. Very cold, this Betty. He wants to see the kids. She says they'll make arrangements.

Later, after making more inquiries into abortion doctors (this is the mid 60s. Cuban Missile Crisis, to be exact. Abortion is still illegal. Though, "They do it in hospitals in Puerto Rico.") she drops the kids off at the Roosevelt with Don. Then, she goes out and spends some of Don's money. Ends up at a bar.

And fucks the first guy she sees. In the bar's office, no less.

I felt betrayed. How could she go out and cheat on Don? Worse, how could she fuck the first guy who made a pass at her? Couldn't she at least have fucked the Maytag repairman? Hell, she didn't even know the fucker's name!

Then, I contemplated things. Weren't my feelings something of a double standard? Don is a serial adulterer. He was fresh off screwing some nubile 21-year-old in California. And hell, he's the king of liars. He's honest to no one, not even himself. Betty going out and doing some random dude should have fallen into the "to each, their own" category. That's life.

But that wasn't the case. Maybe it's my upbringing that made my stomach turn upon witnessing Betty's betrayal. Maybe it's that Catholic ideal. Someone goes and does you wrong, you turn the other cheek. You could go for the old vengeance fuck, but you're better than that.

Maybe it's my sex. Maybe I had some ingrained reaction to what I saw: Something bred into men over millenia.


Then again, maybe not. All I know is I felt pretty fucking dirty after watching that episode.

Guess that's what I get for watching good TV.

two americas?

Two Americas: The "Real" one and the "Fake" one. I am unfortunate enough to live in the Fake one. At least that's what Sarah Palin insinuated.

The truth: There is no "Real" or "Fake" America. There's just America. Don't let this map to the right fool you. America is more PURPLE than RED or BLUE.

Sure. There are some wildly divergent points of view in this country of ours. Extremists on both sides of the coin. For example, there was that dipshit who shouted, "Bullshit!" when McCain mentioned Obama in his concession speech last night.

And there was that fraud Jesse Jackson, weeping during Obama's speech. Sure you still don't want to castrate him for calling out black dads, Jesse?

In the end, America is neither Democrat nor Republican. It's somewhere in the middle. Only when an administration like Bush's goes and fucks up for 8 years do we see such an overwhelming lean to one side or the other. A silent revolution. A sea change.

Ladies and gentlemen: These things only happen once every fifty years or so. Let's hope President Obama can take advantage of this overwhelming support.

And let's be sure not to leave it all up to him.

Don't sit on your laurels, America. Volunteer in your community. Hell, help around the neighborhood. Make a difference. Though one man may stand for change, it takes the involvement of everyone to move us forward.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Woe is Me: I Don't Live in The Real America

I don't wear snowshoes or go snowmobiling. I've never hunted an animal and have not the slightest idea how to field dress a moose. Wasn't born in a small town and don't live in one, either.

According to Sarah Palin, I'm not a "real" American.

At a campaign fundraiser in North Carolina, Palin said, "We believe that the best of America is not all in Washington, D.C. We believe that the best of America is in these small towns that we get to visit, and in these wonderful little pockets of what I call the real American, being here with all of you hard working very patriotic, um, very, um, pro-America areas of this great nation. This is where we find the kindness and the goodness and the courage of everyday Americans. Those who are running our factories and teaching our kids and growing our food and are fighting our wars for us. Those who are protecting us in uniform. Those who are protecting the virtues of freedom."

Regardless of what sense this special little chestnut may or may not impart on rational minds, one thing is clear.

I'm not a real American.

After all: I don't grow the food or run the factories (factories? We've still got factories in the US?) or teach the kids or fight the wars. Worst of all, I live in a city. Ergo, I'm not patriotic or pro-American. According to young Palin, the "real" America lies elsewhere: In bumpkin small towns Al Qaeda could give a shit less about.

As if this dipshit's actions weren't enough, the Republicans continued touting their "'real' American, 'fake' American" theories on any media outlet that would give them a platform. On Hardball, Minnesotan mongoloid Representative Michele Bachmann said, "I wish the American media would take a great look at the views of the people in Congress and find out: Are they pro-America or anti-America?"

Ladies and gentlemen, we at long last have a qualified successor to Senator McCarthy. And what the fuck is a "great look"? Do tell, Bach-MANN.

And at a McCain campaign rally, North Carolina Republican Representative Robin Hayes said, "Liberals hate real Americans that work and accomplish and achieve and believe in God."

WHAT?!? Alright, enough is enough, dickhead. Let me tell you what Liberals hate.

Liberals hate being the most educated, rational, and tolerant individuals in the country. We hate making all the money in our big elitist cities. We hate being the economic engines that keep America moving. We loathe being important enough to warrant terrorist strikes, and hate the unjustified war wrought in the name of 9/11's victims.

Most especially, we hate going through the election process. Because we know, no matter how smart we are and how much time we put into making an educated choice, the "real" Americans will choose the next President. And, let's face it: The "real" Americans are mostly intellectually stunted troglodytes who base their decisions entirely upon unimportant hot button issues, like race, gender, religion (or lack thereof), sexual orientation, gun control, abortion, etc.

There is no place for their knee-jerk politics. Yet their reactionist tendencies are what time and again decide major elections.

We Liberals hate knowing. As Byron said, "Sorrow is knowledge. Those that know the most mourn the deepest. The tree of knowledge is not the tree of life."

If only we could be "real" Americans. Life would be bliss.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

A Moratorium: Ginormous

This week, I recommended a moratorium on the word "ginormous". This fusion of "gigantic" and "enormous" is the single most retarded word "created" in recent years.

I hate the word. I hate seeing it on the page. And I absolutely hate hearing it spoken.

When a word like "large" or "huge" would work just fine, some moron goes ahead and whips out "ginormous". The word goes over as well as that Thanksgiving dinner when Grandpa decided to drop trou, whip out his one-eyed warrior, and attempt to baste the turkey with his octogenarian man nectar.

Who am I kidding? That was hilarious!

Anyhow, my big problem with "ginormous" is the sound of it. When I hear it, I think vagina.

In fact, "ginormous" should only be used to describe The Vaginormous: A somewhat apocryphal cavernous vagina monster that eats men whole. Supposedly, The Vaginormous lives in Queens. She likes cuddling. And men. Did I mention she eats men?

So, let's dump this "ginormous" bullshit. The word shall never again appear in this blog. It's dead. Gone.

However, The Vaginormous may make another appearance. I'm trying to get an interview.

Saturday, October 18, 2008


This morning, I nearly got into a fistfight with some 14-year-old at McDonald's. What a fucking mess.

I know what you're thinking. I'M the asshole, picking fights with 14-year-olds. But hear me out.

I'd ordered a couple Egg McMuffins and a coffee. Was given my change and receipt. Then, I stepped back a few feet from the counter to wait.

A hashbrown came with my meal. I wasn't excited about that. They're always greasy and taste like rotten ass. I planned on feeding it to the ravenous gulls in the parking lot when I left.

As I stood there, this young kid, black, about six inches shorter and 40 pounds lighter, comes up to me and stands about a foot away, facing me. Staring me DIRECTLY in the eyes.

Now, this is Fall River, Massachusetts. Such behavior is typical for this town and I should be used to it. But I'm not.

Personally, I think the entire city should be razed and the populous turned into Soylent Green. At least then they'd prove themselves useful, by providing fellow humans with sustenance. But that's neither here nor there.

So, I turned, trying to avoid the kid's intense glare.

The insolent fuck followed my every move! He didn't even smirk or smile. Just stared at me!

I was unbelievably uncomfortable. This fucker was being such an absolute prick, I just knew I'd have to blast my forehead into his jaw to teach him a lesson, forcing some poor mentally disabled McD's employee to mop up 14-year-old blood and teeth from the brick red tile floor.

I'd had enough. "What the fuck is your problem, kid?" I asked. I'd already prepared myself for some cocky answer from the kid, and picked out this huge whitehead on his chin for my headbutt target. My plan was to kneel low and drive up, using the strength of my legs to drive my skull through this kid's jaw. The confrontation would be over before it really started.

In a flash, this tremendously obese white woman comes from like ten feet away and bullrushes between us like mama hippo protecting her young. Then, she gets close enough to kiss me and spits all over me, "What the fuck is YOUR problem, DICK?"

"This fucking kid is my problem." I answered. "Staring at me. Breathing that stank breath all over me like a social retard."

She sucked her teeth at me. "He IS retarded, asshole." Then she dragged the kid off to the counter. Their order was ready.

Funny. He didn't look retarded to me.

Friday, October 17, 2008

STILL undecided?

Like most, I watched the debate this week. Heard all about "Joe the Plumber" and how Obama's tax plan was supposedly going to hurt him.

You know, I wish I was a plumber. I hear they make 250 grand a year.

Heard all about Bill Ayers.


And watched McCain's numerous sneers and grimaces. Looked like the Crypt Keeper squirted a few squirrels into his colostomy bag while on that stage.

After it was all over, I stayed up and watched the debate recaps. What interests me most about these things are the interviews with undecided voters.

I just don't get undecided voters. After 2 years of campaigning, thousands of stump speeches, and debate upon debate, you'd think everyone had picked a candidate by now.

Un-fucking-believably, this is just not the case. Some people are still sitting on the picket fence, willfully impaling their assholes on splintered stakes. These intellectuals "want to hear more" from the candidates.

More? Are you shittin' me? After three hour and a half long fucking debates, you need to hear more? You undecided voters are the most fucking moronic people in existence.

Put it this way. You go into a restaurant. Order breakfast. Breakfast comes with toast. White or wheat. That's it. You can't have both. You have to choose between the two.

Or go without.

Actually, that's the best choice you undecideds can make this election. If you haven't figured out the difference between Obama and McCain by now, don't bother choosing.

Come election day, stay at home. Because if I catch some undecided nutjob waffling back and forth, muttering "McCain", and, "Obama", in front of my polling station, I'm going to do what any concerned person should do: Call the police and tell them there's a suspicious schizo muttering nonsense in front of a polling station. Because the last thing we need is a bunch of coin-flipping idiots deciding this election.

We all remember what that earned us in 2000.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Red Pill, Blue Pill, Whatever

A few weeks ago, I offered an open forum for anyone who could explain how one figures out just how much money there is (or should be) in the world. Can we just print as much cash as we want? Or is there a cash ceiling, based upon something concrete?

Unsurprisingly, I didn't receive any feedback.

Which leads me to believe that the whole idea of a "cash-based economy" is something like The Matrix. It's nothing but a false construct, developed by the world's nations in order to keep the general populous toiling for "must-have" 62-inch HD TVs, iPhones and Wiis.

What would happen if people learned they could be happy without the HD, the XBOX 360, and the BMW?

Put it this way: If the common unwashed were to stop buying stupid shit, the whole fucking thing would fall apart. That's something the world's nations can't chance. And that's why they keep printing worthless cash, further bankrupting their own people.

What's that you say, Morpheus? Red Pill or Blue Pill?

It doesn't really matter, now. Does it?

Sunday, October 5, 2008


Finally, O.J. Simpson has been found guilty and faces a life sentence. Granted, it's about thirteen years late and for the wrong crime, but hey: Beggars can't be choosers.

Enjoy prison life, shithead. It's about goddamned time.

To All Economists Out There: An Open Invitation

The American people went and took a big Congressional load on the chin this week as a fattened up 840 billion dollar bailout bill passed through the House and Senate. The bill will cost the taxpayer an average of $3000 apiece and aims to bailout the richest people and corporations in the country.

However, there's no guarantee that this plan will work. In fact, most experts think two trillion dollars more will be needed to shore up Wall Street. And even then, there's no guarantee that will be it.

With all these big numbers being tossed around, I'm at a loss. Millions. Billions. Trillions. Just how much money is out there, really?

The question to any and all economists reading this rant is this: How does one figure out how much money there is in the world? And what is the monetary system based on?  Is there a finite amount? Or is it infinite?

You've got an open forum here, economists. Explain the economy to me and I'll give you a shiny silver dollar. That's all I've got left..

Monday, September 29, 2008


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Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Blank Checks For The Treasury?

"Hey guys, what's happenin'? How're your collective families? Good I hope.'

'Listen. We've kinda stumbled on hard times. I could use some cash to keep my friends afloat. Nothing much. Just 700 billion no strings attached taxpayer dollars should do it."

I don't know about you, but I'm not too keen on this proposed economic bailout. Nearly everything about it smells like eighty-year-old porn star vagina. Treasury Secretary Paulson wants 700 billion no-strings-attached dollars.

And wants it now.

The plan will cost taxpayers an estimated $3,000 apiece. So, what does the average taxpayer get out of this bailout?


If I were Congress, I'd answer Paulson succinctly with two choice words: "Fuck You."

I'm just not into rewarding corporate America for their fuckups by handing them a blank check at taxpayer cost. I could care less about this damned if we do, damned if we don't bullshit. Let the corporations go bankrupt and let the market sort it out, that's what I'm saying.

This idea of handing strange, dishonest people money is something I don't go for. Put it this way: When a homeless dude asks me for CHANGE, I tell him to fuck off. And now I've got the government asking me for 3 fucking grand to bail out a bunch of greedy Wall Street fat cats?

Fuck that and Fuck You, Secretary Paulson.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

On Texting and Operating Heavy Machinery

Like most red-blooded Americans, I thoroughly enjoy text messaging. I do it everywhere. And I mean everywhere.

Texting really comes in handy when you're doing something that makes talking uncomfortable. For example, perhaps you're dropping a deuce and really need to update a significant other of your, "B there in 15" status. It's easier and quicker to punch out a text than to call and explain, amidst boisterous flatulence, that you'll be there as soon as possible.

Why? Because yesterday's Mexican was absolutely refusing to stop sloppily hopping the anal border.

Ahh, the invasions of alien bacterium. Delicious.

Point is, there are many times and places for texting, and very few where you absolutely should not. However, you should not perform any actions (other than those involuntary actions like the one mentioned above) while texting. Texting and driving just don't mix. And there's the recent LA train crash, where the conductor is suspected of texting just before the deadly collision that killed him and 24 others.

Hell, you shouldn't even try to text and walk at the same time. Recent studies out of London and The University of Texas have shown that more and more people are suffering serious injuries from slamming into inanimate objects while texting and walking, never mind operating trains, planes, or automobiles.

So please: Practice safe text. Do it from the shitter.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Another Day, Another Bailed Out Corporation

Sometime early this morning, I woke from a terrible nightmare. The treasury had been printing cash at an astounding rate, and the streets were literally lined in Benjamins.
At first, I thought this was some fantasy land, and half expected a whirling dervish of nude leprechauns to make their way down the road, all tee-hee's! and ha ha's!, before finally falling into some epically strange homosexual elfin orgy on that sea of green.
That is until I was met with a sharply dressed man: Three piece suit, pocket square, you know the type. He was swinging from a hastily tied noose strung from a streetlamp. Beyond pale, the man bore a similar shade to the currency lining the thoroughfare.
Then, I came across another. And another. From every high hanging place dangled yet another power player of the corporate world.
Had it really happened? Had the government bailed AIG, amplifying our national debt? Had they printed more cash, further bankrupting the dollar in the face of international currency?
Oh, they had, my dear readers. They had. We, the American taxpayers, are now the proud owners of yet another corporation.
Where does it all end? When does the government finally say: You know what? You fucked up. Deal with it.
Or, do they say: You know what? Privatized business can't be trusted to handle themselves anymore. We're taking you all over so this shit doesn't happen again.
Who knows. I don't.
Why can't I just dream of leprechauns with homosexual proclivities? Life would be so much easier.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Common Sense: Common?

There's an old saying out there that goes a little something like this: "Common sense isn't common."

And after 29 years running around this planet, I know this to be absolutely true. How else does one explain the popularity of Sarah Palin?

This blog is dedicated to all the dipshits I run into that could really use a big fat meat injection of common sense. Since I seem to run into one of these winners daily, this blog may have quite a long, pissed off life. That's fine by me.

Well, that's enough for this evening. Good night, ladies and gentlemen.