Bring on the Weed and Clones!

http://www.wxyz.com/content/news/2008vote/story.aspx?content_id=e12184f9-c3d2-43af-a526-dddc96a2c776&rss=785

In defiance of every possible expectation, the State of Michigan is threatening to leap into the late 90's and take some real, actual, progressive action by legalizing medical marijuana use and embryonic stem cell research. Holy fucking shit.



Opponents of the medical marijuana proposal have been decrying it's usage, culminating with the country's official Drug Czar John Walters saying "the proposal in Michigan would make it too easy for people to get the drug". Wait... is that supposed to make me vote against this proposal? Since I'm out of school and not many of my friends smoke, I don't think official Drug Czar John Walters knows how goddamn hard it is for me to find weed these days. If I want a bag I have a few options- I can call old friends in different towns I rarely talk to (desperate), go to concerts, parties and bars and try to make connections with people who smoke (super desperate), hang out at the 7-11 on 8 mile and Inkster and play the "approach the dudes who look stoned but not too threatening and probably aren't undercover cops" game (incredibly desperate), or finally go downtown into Detroit and buy from some sketchy dealer on a street corner and hope it's not laced with Angel Dust (no fucking way). None of these are good options, and if there is any possible way some of that sweet, sweet Mary Jane is going to leak onto the streets for the people to snatch up, I say all the better.

Also in his little anti-ganja hate speech, official Drug Czar John Walters tried to scare people into voting against the proposal by showing "pictures of marijuana vending machines that popped up in California when that state approved the use of medical marijuana." Even if you are against the idea of this proposal, you have to admit how awesomely awesome it would be to be in, say, a shopping mall and see this beautiful baby next to the Coke and snack vending machines:



Would it really be that bad if more people smoked weed? I don't know if you noticed, but everybody seems to be an asshole nowadays. Last week at a Tim Horton's the lady working behind the counter* literally threw the cardboard sleeve that goes around my coffee at me when I asked her for one because she forgot. Fucking bitch. If she was high, she still might not have remembered, but she might have given me a free bear claw, because when you're high you're happy and you want to share the wealth. Once at work, feeding off the early-morning sugar rush of a large coffee and a free bear claw, I may have been extra productive, which in turn might have helped my company turn a bigger profit, which in turn would have meant more tax revenue went to the Federal Government, which may have given the government enough money to fix Medicare, which would have helped old people get their medicine and live longer, happier lives. Are you against old people getting their medicine, official Drug Czar John Walters, you heartless bastard?

As for the other proposal, unsurprisingly the reactionary and totally lame right is mounting a fight against stem cell research in Michigan, because, you know, fuck those people with Parkinson's and Alzheimer's disease whose lives could someday be completely changed by the treatments and discoveries that experimentation on stem cells could bring. And fuck all those high-paying research and medical jobs it would bring to the state, we have so many jobs here we don't know what to do with them. I have like four old jobs sitting in my garage I haven't touched in years. Maybe I should have a job bonfire this weekend, all my job-saturated friends can bring their discarded and unused jobs over, and we can just have some drinks around the job bonfire and laugh and laugh about how great our awesome economy is and how everyone has so many fucking jobs they're littering the street and choking out all the wildlife and vegetation in southeastern Michigan. In fact, all I needed to make up my mind how to vote was the following video:



Once again arguing against the proposal, but after seeing this I have never wanted something to happen more in my life. A human-cow hybrid? Yes please. And why stop there? Why not bat-tiger hybrids, a flying nocturnal super-efficient killing machine we could unleash on our enemies and destroy once and for all? If you don't think an army of bat-tiger hybrids couldn't find Osama bin Laden in his stupid cave hideout in the mountains of Afghanistan, then you're nuts. Or what about a turkey-duck hybrid, so instead of buying one of those expensive duck-stuffed turkeys on Thanksgiving you could just kill one horrific abomination of God and get all that turkey-duck goodness on our tables more efficiently? How about an ostrich-dolphin hybrid? I don't know what that creature would be useful for specifically, but don't even tell me if there was one in a zoo you wouldn't drop everything and go see it.

More importantly, it may allow me to inject myself with some sort of DNA-altering substance that could give me animal superpowers. My life is extremely lacking in the superpower-having area, and if I could somehow get the speed of a cheetah or the eyesight of an owl or the cock of a horse, well, then, color my life advanced.

Hopefully one day once these proposals pass my ultimate dream could become reality: getting high with animals. This dog has already figured out how to take bong rips (good boy!), and I've always wanted to get high with some monkeys to see if we could somehow create a new language where we could finally, like understand each other. Or something. It seemed way better when I was high. Anyway, thanks Science!

* Seriously though, I hope that bitch who works at Tim Horton's get scalding coffee in her eyes. You make my life miserable every morning. You suck not only at your job, but at life.

The End is Fucking Neigh

http://www.weeklystandard.com/Content/Public/Articles/000/000/015/552kbtvz.asp

The above article, entitled "Give 'em Hell, Sarah", appears in the Weekly Standard magazine, the leading mouthpiece for Neo-Conservative talking points and dogma on the American Right. The author, one Steven F. Hayward, comes to a spirited defense of the embattled Vice Presidential nominee Sarah Palin, saying that "just below the surface of the second-guessing about Sarah Palin's fitness to be president is the serious question of whether we still believe in the American people's capacity for self-government".

This is the idea the Right has been trying to talk itself into since John McCain made the cynical, dangerous and ridiculous choice of Palin as his VP candidate a couple weeks back, and I'm calling bullshit on it.

The thrust of this article is that the media is giving Palin such intense scrutiny about her political beliefs, history and ideals because she's a normal person, just like the average voter, and that the political elite that is the mainstream media doesn't accept her because she's an outsider, that they're inherently skeptical because, in Hayward's words, "she didn't go to Harvard; she's never been on Meet the Press; she hasn't participated in Aspen Institute seminars or attended the World Economic Forum." As if these are bad things, as if being asked questions on national television or attending one of the world's best colleges is overrated, or negative. It's almost implying that her experience as a mother, a mayor and a governor (for less than two years) is enough experience to lead the country, which simply isn't true.

Conservatives are so fond of promoting government be run like a business, but if the outgoing CEO of your multi-billion dollar company was promoting somebody who had been a mid-level manager for less than two years and spent time in the mail room before that to be their successor as CEO, you would call them nuts, which is exactly what John McCain is for doing this. It would be an unsound and risky move for a business; for the most powerful government in the world it would be catastrophic.

It's not that she's qualified, it's that she has the same ignorant worldview, the same fantasyland set of antiquated ideas on topics like abortion, gay marriage, global warming and war that the rest of the back-to-the-dark-ages agenda the religious right that runs the GOP advocates now a days. She's the perfect vessel for this, a plain-talkin' hockey mom (a hunter no less!), masquerading as an agent for change who can be defended from all sides by playing the gender, religious persecution, or small-town card.

Sarah Palin is the perfect storm of the modern Neo-Conservative movement: an intellectual lightweight willing to ignore facts, truth and commons sense to perpetuate power. If I can be more blunt, she is quite stupid. She's a tool in all senses of the word: a vessel being used to promote an agenda, but also a moron.

These words may seem harsh, but someone who thinks intelligent design should be taught in schools along side evolution I have very little intellectual respect for. Someone who believes global warming isn't predominately man-made, ignoring all legitimate scientific evidence to the contrary, is either delusional or an imbecile. Someone who believes rape victims shouldn't be allowed to abort their babies because Jesus thinks it's a human life is religious zealot. Someone who thinks simply drilling for oil wherever they want will have any sort of immediate impact on gas prices is not dealing with reality. Sarah Palin believes simply because she believes something, it makes it true. This is the kind of thinking that got us into the quagmire in Iraq: The belief that Iraq is a threat and we should invade them, then coming up with reasons to do so, finding "facts" and "intelligence" (no matter how dubious in nature) that conform to the idea, rather than letting the facts and circumstances shape the policy.

It's this anti-intellectual worldview that I have such a fundamental disagreement with, that the fact anybody questioning her experience or intelligence is an elitist themselves, that John McCain telling us she's qualified and ready to lead is all the assurance we should need about her qualifications. It's bullshit, and if anything more scrutiny, research and questioning needs to be done before anybody could, with a straight face, say Sarah Palin is qualified to be second in line to lead our country.

Watch these two videos together and tell me they don't have a disturbing amount in common:






Sarah Palin is ignorant because she obviously didn't know what the Bush Doctrine was when ABC's Charles Gibson asked her a straightforward question about it. She is a tiny notch above Miss South Carolina in content, and about even on delivery. Sarah Palin is dishonest because she's been touting her independent persona by saying she said "thanks but no thanks to the 'Bridge to Nowhere'", when in actuality she advocated it's construction before changing her mind along with popular opinion and a surge of common sense. Sarah Palin is unqualified because her only experience in government was as a mayor of a town of 6,300 people and as governor of a state with less than 700,000 people. Saying these things is certainly not an affront to small town people, although most conservatives would have you believe it. It is an affront to unqualified pretenders trying to seize control of our government.

Hayward makes the claim that "The establishment is affronted by the idea that an ordinary hockey mom--a mere citizen--might be just as capable of running the country as a long-time member of the Council on Foreign Relations." I am not the establishment, but I am affronted by this idea. She has no experience! SHE IS NOT QUALIFIED! I DON'T want an ordinary citizen being President! I want someone intelligent, I want someone who went to the best schools and has served in the Senate on a national level running things. I want someone who has well-thought out ideas rooted in reason and facts, I want someone who knows what the fucking Bush Doctrine is and doesn't shit her pants on national television. When did it become a bad thing to be intelligent? When were the atributes of self-awareness and introspection axed from the requirements for successful leadership?

Some national polls have McCain/Palin in front of Obama/Biden. Time and time again I assure myself that the American people will see through the fog, that the last eight years (and the vile persecution of the previous eight Clinton years) will be enough to spur change, that we as a country will finally get it, that we will aspire to make real change, to do the right thing, but after seeing the reaction to this I'm really starting to doubt myself. The voting electorate needs to prove that they can push aside the bullshit and move forward, but the hour is getting very late. I honestly can't even bring myself to fantasize what a McCain/Palin White House would look like, but I have a feeling it's twin is in the White House right now, and I have no idea how we could survive another four years of it.

Watch This

I don't know who made this, but they are fucking awesome. Peep this:

The Sweet/Weak List, Vol. 3

I am so fucking hung over my eyes are bleeding. Last night was my buddy's bachelor party, and I thought it would be a good idea to drink 10 beers without any food in my stomach, eat a bit, then drink about sixty more, topped off with a few splashes of single-malt scotch. I woke up this morning in the back of my car, roasting in the sun like a fucking ham, my socks lost, all my money gone, mysterious bruises on my abdomen, and a half-eaten piece of pizza in my hand. Needless to say I am not so chipper today. I was at the grocery store earlier and this little old lady was taking forever checking out, and it took all of my willpower not to punch her in the throat and burn the store to the ground. You hear that old ladies at the grocery store? HURRY THE FUCK UP YOU DECREPIT OLD BITTY! EITHER CHECK OUT OR GO DIE IN A DITCH!

Wow am I an asshole. On to the list.

Sweet:


1- The Dark Knight- I will admit I was ready to be let down by this movie. I loved the first one, Batman Begins, and the hype surrounding this was so incredibly ridiculous that I thought there was no way it could live up to it. Then I saw the movie and had twelve consecutive brain orgasms from sheer awesomeness. This movie was so fucking sweet I can't even handle it. Heath Ledger was fantastic, disgusting, frightening and hilarious all at the same time. It really fucking sucks he's dead, because it seems like he was just getting started on an incredible career. Maggie Gyllenhal is about 560 times better an actor than Katie Holmes, and the special effects on Two Face were outstanding. In fact, we're seeing a string of quality comic book movies unprecedented up until this point: The Spiderman trilogy, Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, the first two X-Men (the third one never happened), and now the Batman movies all range from solid to outstanding. And if the upcoming Watchmen movie were a woman, I would make sweet, tender, passionate love to her. Just kidding, I would teabag her, then Superman that ho. Dirty, dirty Watchmen movie. What was I talking about?


2- My Beard- I had a dream earlier in the year that I had long hair and a beard. Logically, then, I decided to grow long hair and a beard, because I always take my dreams literally. That's why I often went to school naked. Anyway, I of course proceeded to grow the most phenomenal beard known to man. What's that you say? It looks like pubic hair glued on to my face? Good point, but let me retort by saying FUCK OFF. This beard says to the world "Look who finally went through puberty!" Women were powerless to it's awesomeness. And by powerless I mean repelled and disgusted. I am so very, very lonely.


3- Miguel Cabrera- He's 25, hit 8 home runs, had 31 RBI, and hit .330 in the month of July. He is five kinds of awesome, and he's signed for the next fifty years. I don't care what they traded for him, or that Dontrelle Willis instantly forgot how to throw a strike when he came to the American League, or that the Tigers paid him $500 million dollars, he's worth it.

4- Bluetooth Headsets- Let me be clear: these are the scourge of the earth, and everyone I see wearing one I want to kick their teeth down their throat, then drown them with my urine. So why are they on the Sweet list? Because I realized that while irritating, unnecessary and incredibly lame, they're an excellent indicator of douchebaggery in an individual. They're wonderful time savers: if I see someone wearing one of these, I immediately know they're a Grade-A choad and steer clear. So thank you, Bluetooth, for acting as a warning symbol that says "Hey- there is 100% chance that I'm an incredible asshole and listen to Nickelback. Avoid me at all costs, and if you can, run my car off the road into a concrete embankment so I die in a fiery explosion and don't pollute the world with any more douche bags like me".

5- The W. Era Nearing the End- Less than five months and counting. I think I might throw a party where we construct a giant W. doll and literally burn it in effigy, then piss on the ashes. Did I mention I wasn’t too fond of his version of the White House? Sayonara, A-hole.

6- Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!- The funniest, weirdest shit on T.V. right now. This clip is pure brilliance:


And this one for good measure...

Weak:

1- Reality Television- I was flipping through the channels a while ago, and I stumbled across a show called “Denise Richards: It’s Complicated”. With a name like “It’s Complicated”, I figured I’d hear Ms. Richards giving original proofs to solve differential equations, or opine on her newest piece of economic game theory, or dissect the age-old Palistian-Israeli territorial conflict, but to my surprise it was her bitching about Charlie Sheen and complaining about how hard it is being a single mother. When you’re filthy rich. And you probably get $50K/mo in alimony. And have five servants and live in a mansion. If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I might say something negative about her here.

Instead, I chose to make a point about the genre in general. My point being: reality television just might be the signal of the end of Western critical thought as we know it. Are we that trite, that bored, that fucking lazy that instead of making our own lives exciting or meaningful, or watching poignant and artful works of fiction, we instead have to watch other people live out their lives? And not even interesting or useful lives, at that. If there was a reality show following around George W. Bush behind the scenes as he was President, making decisions that affect literally millions of lives, that might be worthwhile to watch. Maybe. But watching Denise Richards dress up her dogs in sweaters and smell her own farts is just too much. She is a vapid, talentless, idiotic suckubus. Did I say I wouldn’t say anything negative about her? Whoops. Anyway, how could you possibly find that interesting? If you like this kind of shit I hate you. I’m not kidding. Let’s just move on.

2- The Detroit Tigers Bullpen- Where to begin with this goddamned mess? I just watched Fernando Rodney come into a game with a 1-run lead, then proceed to walk the first hitter he faced, peg the second one in the chest, give up a run-scoring single, then walk home the winning run. How in god’s name do you become the closer of an MLB team without the ability to throw a strike? The only upside of him being the closer is that he’s not Todd Jones. I won’t kick a man when he’s down, seeing as he just lost the closer’s job, but let’s just say that performance by Rodney was carrying on Jones’ flame quite nicely. The worst part of all this is they knew they had to get some help if they wanted to compete for the division title this year, so they used their best trading chip (Pudge Rodriguez) and turned him into… wait for it… Kyle Fucking Farnsworth. The same Kyle Farnsworth that came into this game today in the 8th with a 2-run lead and walked off the mound down by one. Soo-purb. I’m sure this will end well.


3- The Football Jesus- This one truly breaks my heart. The latest is the Packers have decided to let him come to camp and compete for the starting quarterback job. They don’t really have a choice in the matter, seeing as no other NFL team is willing to trade anything of value for him, and it would be the biggest p.r. disaster of the last century if he suited up for another team. Despite the fact they offered to take him back after he retired and he turned them down, after he gave them his decision that he wouldn’t play anymore, causing them to commit to Aaron Rodgers as their starting quarterback, he decides a few weeks before training camp he wants to play again, then has the fucking balls to tell the Packers to release him or trade him to a division rival so he can play against them. This is a selfish, selfish asshole move. You made the decision to retire, live with it. The kicker is Rodgers is probably never re-signing with the Packers after this next year, and they’ll have to draft and groom another quarterback which could take years. If I have to go back to the 4-12 days because Farve wanted to play one more year, thus fucking the team over for several thereafter, then I don’t know what. I probably won’t do anything, maybe write some angry, poorly written posts on my blog. Yeah, that seems about right.

All that being said, I hope he ends up being the quarterback, because he is, after all, the Football Jesus.

4- Obama caving on the FISA bill- When you said you were against immunity for the telecom companies under any circumstances, many believed you. I really, really, really hope you’re not taking the lame “running to the middle” strategy that cost Al Gore and John Kerry the last two elections. Bad, bad idea.


5- Quakers- Nothing has changed. You hear that, Wilford Brimley? You keep pimping those Quaker Oats and you’ll see what happens. Nothing good. Goddamn Quakers.

How can I be Awesome?

Dear Pope,
I want to be more awesome like you, but I don’t k now how. I’ve run with the bulls, taken shots with Russel Crowe, and even met the President yet nothing seems to make me as totally awesome as you. What can I do
-Cardinal Awesome

Cardinal. First off, you’re not a Cardinal. I know for a fact you haven’t met the Higher Power and earned that title. No, not ‘God’ you moron. The Space Pope. Obviously you don’t know, so we’ll move on.

Let’s look at this from outside if we can. What defines awesome? Is it inherent? Can it be learned? Taught? Is awesome related to the sole individual or is it dependent on who said individual hangs out with? Do accessories or styles make awesome? Can you pop a collar, get a tattoo, or wear eye liner and become awesome?

You ran with the bulls? How about swam against the sharks off the Cape of Good Hope?
You drank with some kind of celebrity? How about taking vodka shots on the space station with the Russian chimp as you reenter Earth’s atmosphere?
You met the president? Who @#)$*%^ cares!? I bumped into a guy on the street the other day. Was he a businessman? An assassin with the ability to curve bullets? A parallel Earth version of Charlton Heston who never got on board with ape hatred? The fuck if I know! Or care! Or am going to go telling people about!

How can I be awesome? I don’t know. Not be you. You sucks. You is not interesting, not famous, has no amazing skills. What you’re really trying to do here is to be me. Which you can’t. It’s just not possible. You could attempt to become more interesting; fighting geriatric German grandmother’s for fun and profit. More famous; kill all the members of Nickelback and wear their heads like hats. Gain more amazing skills; drink a 5th of wild turkey and then totally smoke that Asian kid at hot dog eating contests while simultaneously banging his mom. But ultimately, you’re still you, not me. There’s just no getting around it.

You could try some extreme level existentialistic, paranormal, breaking-down-the-4th-wall shit that would make you not you, but at that point 2+2 wouldn’t equal 4, you’d end up making out with some dead fish god, and your consciousness would stop caring about being awesome, making the whole point moot. So, the answer is no. You can’t be more awesome.

You sick necrophilic fuck!

Ghost's Vacation Blog!

I know everyone out there has been dying of Ghost-related deprivation, so I've decided to blog my week-long siesta back home to Ghostville. I will update daily. Enjoy.

Saturday-

7:50 pm- pull into town, immediately go to Grandma's house to visit Grandma. Grandma is old, frail and Austrian, taunt Grandma into arm-wrestling match by loudly proclaiming "All Austrians are the Kaiser's bitch! Archduke Franz Ferdinand had it coming!" Easily pin Grandma in arm-wrestling match, celebrate by strutting around the room doing Mick Jagger's rooster dance. While celebrating, Grandma clandestinely pulls 8' bowie knife out of her boot, before I know it I'm pinned to the wall with a razor-sharp blade at my throat. Grandma tells me "This blade has spilled more Commie Ruski blood than Rasputin himself. And this blade is thirsty!" Quickly use superior judo reverse arm-bar hold to turn her away. Flee Grandma's house, terrified, as she yells profanities at me in German.

8:26 pm- hit the local bar with Ghost, Sr. Get into doubles pool match with local yokels, easily defeat them, celebrate with shots of whiskey and bacon grease.

1:00 am- try to go to sleep, but keep hearing Grandma screaming German profanities at me. Wonder if she'll come to spill my blood. Sleep with loaded Desert Eagle .50 cal under my pillow.

Sunday-



9:07 am- awake to smells of Mother Ghost cooking breakfast. Hungrily devour breakfast of steak, eggs, bacon, steak-fried bacon, bacon and eggs stuffed steak, scrambled egg soup with bacon broth, and more steak. Wash it all down with a hot cup of bacon grease. Have some bacon shaped like a chocolate bar for desert.

9:25 am- have seconds of Mother Ghost's breakfast.

9:48 am- go to sleep until Monday.

Monday-

11:47 am- venture out to Lake Michigan with Ghost, Sr. for a fishing expedition. Our cargo: two half-gallons of Wild Turkey, a cooler full of ice and a 30-pack of PBR, a nitrous tank, a bacon cake containing two pounds of magic mushrooms, two gas masks, a shotgun, a crossbow, a .50 cal Desert Eagle, and a net.

12:01 pm- after finishing each of the half-gallons of Wild Turkey, half the PBR, and the bacon-mushroom cake, Ghost, Sr. repeatedly fires shotgun into water off of the side of the boat. Nothing turns up. Apparently fish aren't biting today.



12:50 pm- out of boredom, fire crossbow into Ghost, Sr.'s ass while he is bent over inhaling from the nitrous tank. Ghost, Sr. forgets to tell me the arrows are laced with poison and exploding tips. Explosion blows up the nitrous tank and the boat.

12:51 pm- find Ghost, Sr. floating unconscious, draped over the cooler. Move Ghost, Sr. to get to cooler, shotgun remaining beers floating in water.

12:57 pm- waves are large, so surf Ghost, Sr.'s lifeless body to safely to shore. Preform secret Ghost-Ninja revival techniques, bring Ghost, Sr. back to life.

12:59 pm- Ghost, Sr. is enraged I brought him back to life, says he was crushing it in the afterlife, had Vishnu in a headlock when I brought him back. Challenges me to whiskey drinking contest and slaps me in the face. I accept.

1:14 pm- at Ghostville bar, Ghost, Sr. drinks me under the table, I pass out. Ghost, Sr. invites various local barflies to deface me with magic markers and their own bodily fluids.

Tuesday-



6:40 am- awake tied to the mast of a 35' cutter yacht named The Duke. Realize the cutter is pulling into port somewhere along the northern Lake Superior shore to Canadian land. Vow eternal revenge on Ghost, Sr.

9:33 am- after a breakfast of french fries and gravy, decide that since I'm in Canada already, might as well make some changes. Travel to capital city, Ottawa, use superior Ghost intellect to convince them to change their government from the silly representative republic/socialism blend they've employed for the last 200+ years to good ol' US of A capitalism. Get entire Canadian legislature changing "USA! USA! USA!" Also pass legislation to require Mounties change their uniforms from the lame red-coat-and-wide-brown-brim bullshit they've had to ultra-sweet new Ninja costumes. Pass more legislation to convince national army to attack one small, defenseless country every three years, preferably with gigantic bombs. Before I return, stalk, hunt, then ritualistically murder and dismember each member of the band Nickleback in front of their respective families. Impregnate their wives with little Ghosts, which in nine months will jump-kick their way out of their mother's uteri, then start a band named "Fuck Yes!", record eleven platinum records and bring world peace.

6:47 pm- return back to Ghostville.

More to come...

I Hate Horses

I might be a little late to the party on this one, but I just saw this blog that might be one of the funniest things I've seen in a long, long time. Check it out:

http://horsehater.blogspot.com/

Come on... tell me that's not funny. Unless you're a horse. And if you are a horse, and you're reading this, then that is simply amazing. Wait... horses can read and surf the internet now? Hmmmm. Maybe the Glorious Horse Uprising of 2008 is upon us. If it is, then what that horse did to Christopher Reeves is gonna seem like a gentle summer breeze rustling your hair compared to what they have in store.

What? Too soon?

P.S. This gives me the opportunity to post the gayest horse picture ever made. Huzzah!

Does the Pope Shit in the Woods?

All hail a new partner blogger, Pope. Ninja Please is happy to have Pope blogging on his own and along with me, and undoubtedly will expose me for the drunk hack that I truly am. The good news is he is a drunk hack as well, so if you like listening to two inebriated fake superheros argue about the mating habits of comic book characters and many other non-sequitors, then this is the place to be. If not, then FUCK OFF. We never liked you anyway.

An Open Letter to the Football Jesus

Dear Mr. Football Jesus,

First off, let me say Thank You- you gave us Cheeseheads 17 years of entertainment, an embarrassment of riches and winning, really. We will always love you for this.

But...

Please stay the fuck away. You're done, you said so, you even cried at your retirement press conference. It was hard, fond memories, blah blah blah. We wanted you back, you said there was nothing left.

We found someone else. His name is Aaron, and since he's following you he's been fucked since the day he was drafted. There is no way he could live up to your image, your mythology. But he may be pretty good, if he can stay healthy. Now you want us back? Why in god's name did you retire in the first place, then?

We call you the Football Jesus because you resurrected football in Green Bay. It cannot be overstated how depressed and sad football was before you came. Mossy Cade was raping women and Forest Gregg was a delusional psychopath. Sure we still sold out every game, drank beer, ate brats and danced to polka in the parking lots during pregame, but it was more a celebration of culture and the past than it was any kind of preparation or excitement for the present, let alone the future. You changed all that, with your Howitzer arm and disarming lack of knowledge of the fetid putridness of the Bart Star, Forest Gregg and Lindy Infante years. I can feel the bile rising in my throat just mentioning that 30+ years of dark, dark hell- but you changed it all. Now we expect to win. Now when you rally the youngest team in the league at 398 years old to a 13-3 record and one stupid, stupid interception away from another Super Bowl (oh sweet Christ was that interception terrible), we're really not that surprised, just happy.

So, uh, thanks for all that. But we've moved on, and you need to move on too. And I don't mean to another NFL team- It's not hyperbole when I say that I simply cannot bear the thought of you wearing another uniform, chucking 50-yard interceptions for another team. It simply cannot happen, it would ruin everything for me. I'm starting to understand how Bulls fans felt seeing MJ shooting jumpers in a Wizards uniform. Nobody needs that.

You're a competitive guy; Jordan tried his hand at baseball, maybe you could do something else. Bullfighting, perhaps? Don't even tell me that the skills you honed dodging and diving away from a crazed Warren Sapp wouldn't translate to you skillfully taunting an enraged and half-dead animal into charging you, then just escaping at the last second to thrill the crowd. That's exactly what you did, and it was great. But it needs to happen somewhere else- anywhere else.

In closing, please stay retired. Not for you, but for us. I don't really give a shit if you have an 'itch' to play. Scratch that shit and get on with your life. We have. I don't want the Football Jesus tag to mean you rose from the dead of retirement to play again. Has that ever, EVER, been a good idea? I don't mean to doubt you, but in the immortal words of Stephen Colbert: "Just because you're infallible doesn't mean you can't be wrong."

Sincerely,

Ghost

Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, Tits

What a sad, shitty day. It's raining outside, seems like it has been for weeks, and now a hero of mine is dead. George Carlin was 71, and if there is an afterlife, he's probably rolling his eyes and pantomiming beat-off gestures behind God's back right about now.

My friend Joel first turned me on to George through his book "Brain Droppings". Of course I had heard of him before, but reading this book was truly one of the seminal moments of my life. It's crass, and his literary style leaves much to be desired, but the ideas... holy shit. Just the sheer fact that one person could be such a confident, logical, unapologetic atheist blew my mind. I was a junior in high school, working at a movie theater, and my life basically revolved around watching movies for free and trying to scam older people to buy me beer. I was also about to be confirmed in the Catholic Church, and these questions and ideas were in my mind, somewhere, trolling below the surface, never showing their face. This book, and George, brought them out front and center, slapped me in the face with them, but most of all legitimized them to me. Maybe I'm not the crazy one for doubting that there's some magical man who lives in the sky and hears all of our thoughts all at the same time. This doesn't seem logical to me, but I'm the crazy one? Fuck that and fuck everyone else who tries to make me think so.

With George and his writing and monologues, it wasn't the actual dogma that he preached, but the way he preached it. He was one of the rare cats that was able to cut out all of the stupid bullshit surrounding him, look internally and think, truly think for himself. That why his shows were so entertaining: you knew you were seeing something special, the unfettered, unfiltered internal dialogue and thought process of a truly creative, intelligent person. George had an uncanny ability to hold up a mirror to us, as a society, and show us how truly fucking ridiculous we are. He was, and is, completely unique, as many acts have tried to rip him off, but they only come off as hacky and sad, and it lifts up the brilliance of his performances even more. If you don't know what the title of this post means, you need to Google that shit. It's his life's work summed up in seven words, and there are far, far worse legacies to leave.

The world is a worse place for him not being in it, and I'll miss him. My writing can't really do him justice, so listen to the words of the man himself- and enjoy.

George On Religion:


The Seven Dirty Words (I think he was pretty coked up here... in fact, I'm sure of it):

RIP, George.

John Locke Changes Lives

The following is a verbatim text-message conversation I had with my Attorney, Pope.

Pope: Dude. I just watched the season finale of Lost. What. The. Fuck!?

Ghost: Right? Sooo fucking sweet. No way Locke is dead, either. Also found out the dude who plays Locke is from the U.P. (Ed. Note- Thanks Ade!)

Pope: He better not be fucking dead! Hell Yeah! Think he'd come drink with us in Esky?

Ghost: Oh he would put down a double shot of Wild Turkey then lightening quick throw a knife across the room into an Indian's head.

Pope: And then wrestle a bear! How did the bear get into the bar and why is it wearing a Mexican wrestling mask? Don't know and don't care.

Ghost: In his defense, that bear had just fallen on hard times- just lost his job and caught Mrs. Bear fucking a black bear-

Pope: Well he WAS drunk on the job and kept nagging Mrs. bear about her hibernation weight.

Ghost: ... so he took a degrading carnival job as a heel wrestling vagrants and hobos for table scraps and was hitting the bottle pretty hard. Locke put him in a choke hold and changed his life.

Pope: Then we'd all have ice cream sundaes. And by "ice cream" I mean "whiskey" and by "sundae" I mean "sandwich". That's how Locke does.

Ghost: Whiskey Sandwiches?!? All that great, smooth whiskey flavor now in sandwich form? Fucking sweet!

Pope: Locke took two great things and made them into one!

Ghost: All hail John Locke!

Are You A Religious Man, Mr. Pierce?

This crying, despondent, crippled wretch of a poor soul you see here is Paul Pierce of the Boston Celtics. What led up to this pitiful display of a grown man crying in public was Pierce coming down awkwardly on his right knee, then immediately crumpling to the ground in agony. It was terrible to watch, like Barbaro breaking his leg and knowing that he was imminently going to be shot. Only, you know, they would tell the other Celtics they gave Paul away to a nice elderly couple who owned a farm, so he would have lots of room to run around and play on his knee, which totally wasn't shredded.

In fact, ABC ratcheted up the drama scare by following Pierce as he was rushed to the locker room in a wheelchair, Michelle Tafoya, Danny Ainge and Ric Bucher following breathlessly behind. It was sad to see an athlete work his entire professional life to get to this point, this pinnacle, right to the edge of being a champion, only to see it all so unfairly ripped away with what appears to be such a dramatic, season-ending, possibly even career-ending injury on such a public stage. Because based on his reaction, and the fact that he had to have his teammates literally carry him off of the court, it had to be that serious.

So now the Celtics will be without Paul Pie- wait... oh, my God. Incredible! Shades of Willis Reed! Pierce is coming back into the game! The crowd is going nuts! It's an Act of God! DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?!?!?!

No, actually, I don't. I don't believe in miracles, and for Pierce to have that kind of reaction, literally crying on the court, as a grown man when one of his legs is hurt to have his teammates take him by his legs and back and put him in a wheelchair, the grimace and the pain showing on his face, then to have him come back in the game and run without a noticeable limp? No fucking way. Here's the man himself:

Said Pierce: "I thought I tore something; that's the way I felt at the time. Usually when I go down, I'm getting right back up, but it was an instance where I turned my knee and it popped, and I was just in pain where I couldn't move."

No, Paul, you usually don't get right up. My new nickname for you is "The Farmer", because you milk every goddamn foul and incidental contact to comical extremes.

Paul Pierce is a whiny, faking bitch. I don't know exactly why he did it, but I have noticed all through these playoffs Pierce is probably the biggest over-reactor to contact or being fouled by far, and that includes Rasheed Wallace and Rip Hamilton. Maybe it was to have an excuse if he sucked, maybe it's just to elicit sympathy. Either way, if he gets beat on D, he falls down and lays there, giving the impression he was bowled over by some obviously non-called offensive foul. He'll lay there with his arms in the air and his eyes agog until his teammates pick him up. After he came back in the game last night, he was fouled by Kobe on a jump shot, Kobe's forearm brushed his face, and he ran around covering his face and grimacing as if he had a red-hot poker shoved into his orbital socket.

Pierce is like that guy you play pick-up hoops with, the one who acts all badass and has all the most expensive, up-to-date gear, but every time he's touched he thinks to make the point he was fouled has to limp around or flop like a fish out of water or pretend that hand you brushed by his abdomen knocked the wind out of him so bad he can't breathe, let alone get up. Then if you call him out on it, you're the jerk for being so callous! I hate that asshole. And Paul Pierce is that asshole.

Well no more. I'm on to your shenanigans, Paul Pierce, you shady bastard. You're like Manu Ginobili only with no bald spot. Don't know why nobody has caught onto this yet, but they will. Especially the next time Kobe blows by you on D and you fall to the ground, crying and grabbing your groin, telling everyone in earshot you pulled your vagina. Not buying it.

Ghost's Super-Teriffic Happy-Time Awesomeness Advice

Dear Ghost:

I’ve just awoke from a 20-year coma. Of course, my first action was to e-mail you for some advice. Here’s my problem: back in 1988, I was up on all the great music- Bon Jovi, Whitesnake, Poison, Def Leppard, those guys ROCKED! I was totally tits, and up on all the rockinist bands. But now, twenty years in the future, I’m lost. I love and miss that music, but I don’t even know where to start with today’s bands. Help!

Eddie
Terre Haute, IN

First off, Eddie, congratulations. Not on coming out of your coma (anyone with regular-functioning brain activity could achieve that… in fact, what took you so long? I’m surprised your family hasn’t Terry Shivo’d your ass by this point), but on immediately e-mailing me with your concerns. It shows an inherent intelligence on your part to turn to an oracle like me, but sadly, the idiotic content of your question betrays your underlying stupidity.

Fortunately for you, Ninja Please is an equal-opportunity advice blog (sometimes), answering queries ranging from kick-ass ninja badasses (such as myself) to primordial fucktards (such as yourself). So in order to help you get up to date what the kids are listening to today, I’ve complied a profile of some of the shittiest bands I could think of, and helpfully graded them on some of the lame-ass things you loved about those other craptacular bands from the late 80’s. So now, instead of writing “RATT” with magic marker on your jean jacket and frizzing your perm with hairspray with your buddies, you can compare your tribal tattoos and talk about what kind of hair gel works best to get that “half my hair is spiked up in the back but my bangs are really greasy look” that every fan of these bands is sporting today. These bands are the suckiest of the suck- you should enjoy them immensely. This is what’s commonly referred to as “dude rock” nowadays, which was the eventual bastard child of your shitty hair metal. This is going to be painful. You’re welcome in advance.

Nickleback: If we’re going to start talking about music by douche bags for douche bags, this is the place to start. The rundown:
Totally nonsensical yet vaguely douchey-sounding one word name? Check.
Lame faux-toughguy vocals sung in an over-the-top gravely voice? Check.
Lead singer has feathered hair just like a girl? Check.
Tribal tattoos, unfortunate facial hair, or trying way too hard to look badass? Some, but surprisingly restrained.
Surprisingly lame-ass pussy lyrics? A sample:
If everyone cared and nobody cried
If everyone loved and nobody died
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride
Then we’d see the day when nobody died
Are you fucking kidding me? That’s got all the lyricism and poetry of a 14 yr-old girl’s D-minus English paper. Way fucking deep, man: What if nobody died? Think about it! DID I JUST BLOW YOUR MIND?!?! Plus, if we ever got to the point where nobody died, then we’d be robbed of the anticipation of the sweet release that would come with the lead singer of Nickelback’s death.
Bonus Douchiness: They’re Canadian, eh? Fuckin’ Cannucks. How dare you come to this country and spread the disease of your music. Most people think we’re friendly with Canada, but just look at the horrors they’ve inflicted upon us: Celine Dion, Bryan Adams, gravy on French fries, fucking Nickelback. We’re so willing to start wars unprovoked, but this seems like a clear and direct attack on our musical tastes. I’ve decided I’m voting for whichever candidate promises to declare War on Canada the soonest.

Hinder: If you loved the musical diarrhea that is Nickelback, then you’ll love the musical abortion that is Hinder. The rundown:
Totally nonsensical yet vaguely douchey-sounding one word name? Check.
Lame faux-toughguy vocals sung in an over-the-top gravely voice? Check.
Lead singer has feathered hair just like a girl? Check.
Tribal tattoos, unfortunate facial hair, or trying way too hard to look badass? Not quite… but somehow worse.
Surprisingly lame-ass pussy lyrics? A sample:
And I never wanna say goodbye
But girl you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel

It's really good to hear your voice saying my name
It sounds so sweet
Coming from the lips of an angel
Hearing those words it makes me weak
Oh sweet Christ. Where to even start with this one? “The lips of an angel”? So you took your lyrics from a bastardized version the shittiest pickup line even spoke in any language? Congrats. Also, her lips are what make you weak? What the hell is wrong with you? If this song was called “Tits of an Angel” that would be way better, because tits > lips. Also, everyone knows that angels have kick-ass tits, but are kind of butter faces. I was even going to make up some fake lyrics to pass off as theirs to hyperbolize their suckitude, but I couldn’t even make up fake lyrics as pussy as these. They defy imagination.
Bonus Douchiness: Their lead singer’s name is Austin Winkler. Just repeat that to yourself out loud for a second: Austin Winkler. Is he trying to make me want to hit him the face with a crowbar? Because nothing would make me happier right now. NOTHING.

Lifehouse: A band I hated and didn’t even know it. But god do I hate them. Their song “Hanging by a Moment” was playing every goddamn time I turned on the radio a couple of years ago. The rundown:
Totally nonsensical yet vaguely douchey-sounding one word name? Check.
Lame faux-toughguy vocals sung in an over-the-top gravely voice? Check.
Lead singer has feathered hair just like a girl? He did in the past, and one of the dudes in the band does, so I’m going with a “Check” on this one.
Tribal tattoos, unfortunate facial hair, or trying way too hard to look badass? Not so much… more of an emo-we-think-we’re-sort-of-punk-but-buy-our-clothes-at-Hot-Topic look. Blech.
Surprisingly lame-ass pussy lyrics? A sample:
I finally found a love of a lifetime,
A love to last my whole life through.
I finally found a love of a lifetime,
Forever in my heart, I finally found a love of a lifetime.

With every kiss our love is like brand new,
And every star up in the sky was made for me and you.
Still we both know that the road is long,
But we know that we will be together because our love is strong
Please give me a moment while I blow the remaining vomit out of my nostrils. There. That’s better. I almost feel guilty posting these lyrics, as this band provided a veritable smorgasbord of ridiculously cheesy lyrics. It was honestly hard to choose, but I couldn’t read these lyrics for any sustained period of time, on account of all the puking and eye bleeding. Seriously, their albums should come with a gas mask and a revolver loaded with a single bullet. You know, so you can play some russian roulette to pass the time.
Bonus Douchiness: According to their Wikipedia page, “The group first came together as a Christian band called Blyss…”. Seriously. This isn’t a joke or anything. THEY ORIGINALLY WERE A CHRISTIAN BAND CALLED BLYSS. The name “Lifehouse” is pretty terrible, but “Blyss”? Wow. Just wow. And I won’t even get into the insurmountable mountain of suck that is Christian Rock. OK, I will: it’s crap. All of it. Remember that one good Christian Rock song? Yeah, me neither. Let’s just move on.

Saliva: Jesus this is getting tiring. You better appreciate this, you coma-having asshole. The rundown:
Totally nonsensical yet vaguely douchey-sounding one word name? Check.
Lame faux-toughguy vocals sung in an over-the-top gravely voice? Check.
Lead singer has feathered hair just like a girl? Not feathered, but Christ look at this guy. I think he might have a touch of dwarfism or even a bit of Downs. Or maybe both? Either way he looks like the world’s biggest Oompa-Loompa Metallica fan.
Tribal tattoos, unfortunate facial hair, or trying way too hard to look badass? This category was pretty much made for this band. Double check.
Surprisingly lame-ass pussy lyrics? A sample:

I always wanted to be president, I always wanted to be Superman.
I ended up a fuckin' superstar.

I'm better off than either one of them.

I wanna take you to a higher place.
Say all the things that you could never say.
I'll even help you try to make a change.
Before the whole world blows up in your face.
What? I mean… this is baffling. What in god’s name is this full-sized midget rambling about? You wanted to be President? Really? Do they let people with fetal alcohol syndrome take elected office? Not only that, but you think you’re better off than Superman? Really? Let’s compare: Superman can fly, has x-ray and laser vision, super strength and bangs ultra-hot Lois Lane whenever he feels like it. You: dwarf-looking overweight tattooed D-bag lead singer of a marginally successful band. You cannot fly, your eyes do nothing cool, you’re probably a total pussy and at best you bang the skankiest Hooter’s waitress in every mid-sized town you travel to. Hmmm… Lois Lane, or Krystal from the Fort Wayne Hooters? Tough call. Asshole. And are you really a “superstar“? Me thinks not. This is getting really irritating.
Bonus Douchiness: Here’s a quote from the lead singer himself: “We’re going to go in the studio probably around May and record our next record. It’s called Monster, and if you like “Ladies and Gentlemen” and “Click Click Boom,” and more dynamic stuff, it’s going to be an ass-whooping of a record. It’s going to be 45 minutes of ass-whooping!”
Do you even need to hear anything else about them? Case closed.

Daughtry: What happens when you give a no-talent ass-clown from American Idol his own band? This. This abomination against all that is holy and good happens. The rundown:
Totally nonsensical yet vaguely douchey-sounding one word name? Check.
Lame faux-toughguy vocals sung in an over-the-top gravely voice? Check.
Lead singer has feathered hair just like a girl? Unfortunately not, but he is a bald-ass bitch. Look at what a brooding bad-ass he is! Look at the intensity!
Tribal tattoos, unfortunate facial hair, or trying way too hard to look badass? Mos def. Nice highlights, guys. Also, your lead singer is just like Vin Diesel, only dumber. Let that one sink in.
Surprisingly lame-ass pussy lyrics? A sample:
The miles are getting longer, it seems,
The closer I get to you.
I've not always been the best man or friend for you.
But your love, it makes true.
And I don't know why.
You always seem to give me another try.
“Your love, it makes true”? What the fuck does that even mean? My god, I just read lyrics for several different Daughtry songs. I am truly ashamed of myself.
Bonus douchiness: This guy took 4th on American Idol. This proves the fact that if you’re a good karaoke singer, it doesn’t necessarily mean you have talent.

Fuel: The band so shitty, they offered Chris Daughtry their lead singer job, and he turned them down. Ouch. The rundown:
Totally nonsensical yet vaguely douchey-sounding one word name? Check.
Lame faux-toughguy vocals sung in an over-the-top gravely voice? Check.
Lead singer has feathered hair just like a girl? Who the fuck knows, they might not even have a lead singer at his point.
Tribal tattoos, unfortunate facial hair, or trying way too hard to look badass? Of fucking course.
Surprisingly lame-ass pussy lyri… ah fuck this, I can’t do it anymore.

I hope you’re happy, Eddie from Indiana, because researching these bands was less fun than having all of my pubic hair plucked out one-by-one. Now make sure you and your buds get your spiky highlights done in time for that big Puddle of Mudd show next week, you fucking ponce.

Stop the Stupid Bullshit

The man pictured here next to Sen. Barack Obama is the Rev. Jeremiah Wright. You’ve probably seen him in the news, as he has come under tremendous fire from politicians and media alike, in regards to some strong and inflammatory comments he’s made at his church, which just so happens to be the church of Sen. Obama, who just happens to be running for President.

The outrage machine has been working overtime to link Obama and some of the more insensitive things Rev. Wright has said, and the main-stream media is especially giddy about this- I think Sean Hannity actually had to hide his outrage boner last night on his show. It's been the lead in the N.Y. Times, the Wall Street Journal, and the Washington Post, as well as on every major evening news network. This is the type of garbage that passes for news nowadays.

I’m willing to bet almost nobody knows anything about Barack Obama’s healthcare plan (here’s the link: http://www.barackobama.com/issues/healthcare/ -there’s some good stuff in here, especially the subsidies for people who can’t afford to pay for their own health care, as well as mandated universal health coverage for children- something Pres. Bush VETOED late last year, but I digress), but you know he’s a shitty bowler, and that he doesn’t wear a flag pin on his lapel, and his middle name is Hussein, and the pastor of his church seems like kind of a dick.

Does anybody give a shit about Hillary’s plan to help fix the housing market/subprime loan mess (some of the details are here: http://www.hillaryclinton.com/news/release/view/?id=4530 -she’s calling for moratoriums on home foreclosures for up to 90 days and possible rate freezes for people locked into subprime adjustable-rate mortgages- some solid first steps)? Nope, but I’ll bet you know she lied about landing in Bosnia under sniper fire when she was first lady, and how she cried while campaigning in New Hampshire, and how her husband got some BJ’s from a chubby bimbo ten years ago.

Or what about John McCain’s stance on Iraq? Does anybody realize that Sen. McCain advocates increasing the troop levels in Iraq and rejects unconditional negotiations with Syria and Iran (here the link to his official website, less you think I jest: http://www.johnmccain.com/Informing/Issues/fdeb03a7-30b0-4ece-8e34-4c7ea83f11d8.htm)? Maybe vaguely, but no doubt you know John McCain is hailed as a “maverick” in the U.S. Senate, repeatedly adorned with the false moniker of “Straight Talker” by the adoring press? I’ll bet you didn’t know how McCain voted on the last piece of legislation regarding torture (look it up, it’s quite surprising), but I’ll bet you knew is campaign bus is called the “Straight Talk Express”.

I started with Rev. Wright because he embodies the epitome of the stupid bullshit that not only passes for news with our lazy, sycophantic mainstream media, but also the motivations of our votes as Americans. Much was made in 2000 when George W. Bush “beat” Al Gore (not even going to get into that one) by appealing to regular folk- many voters perceived him as the guy they wanted to have a beer with, the guy who loves baseball and golf and isn’t a big reader and who clears brush on his ranch on his days off, as opposed to the seemingly elitist Gore, a robotic lifetime bureaucrat who probably drank cabernet sauvignon and threw like a girl. But look at what this got us- this “regular guy” got us balls deep into an unwinable, costly and deadly war in the desert, neglected our national security and economy, and generally fucked things up as much as one human being could possibly fuck something up. It’s fair to say that if the effete, boring wine-drinker were elected, we wouldn't be in this war, almost 4,000 of our soldiers would be still alive, and our federal deficit wouldn’t be higher than Willie Nelson (hey-0!).

So, do you think, America, that possibly, maybe, this stupid bullshit we read in the papers and obsess about, the crap we allow to substitute for debate about actual issues, might not the best judgments of how our leaders will act and carry out their duties? Do you think that maybe just because a politician names his fucking bus the “Straight Talk Express”, it means he’s actually a straight talker? If I chartered a bus and had “World’s Smartest Man” emblazoned on the side and traveled the countryside giving speeches about how I was indeed the World’s Smartest Man, would you believe a word of it? Hopefully not, because if you met me for ten seconds you would know this wasn’t true (I drool a lot), but I’m willing to be there are some assholes that would. They would tell their friends they met the World’s Smartest Man, and it had to be true because it said it on the side of his bus.

Herein lies the fundamental problem with us as a voting electorate. We’re extremely fucking intellectually lazy. We'll take the word of the side of the bus. We don’t want to take the ten minutes to log onto Hillary Clinton’s website to find out about her plan for withdrawing our troops from Iraq, but we’re sure we’re not voting for her because she seems like kind of a bitch. We are sure we aren’t voting for Barack Obama because here’s a picture of him in a turban, and Muslims are our enemies, and he might secretly be one. In fact, here’s a perfect illustration of this, its an article about some bumblefuck pastor down in South Carolina who tried to raise the question on his church sign of whether or not Obama is a Muslim: http://www.wspa.com/midatlantic/spa/news.apx.-content-articles-SPA-2008-04-20-0005.html

The best part about this is his quote: Pastor Byrd says the sign is not meant to be racial or political but rather to make people think. "His name is so close to Osama I have a feeling he might be Islamic therefore he doesn't recognize Christ," Pastor Byrd said.

No, you ignorant dickhole, Obama isn’t “Islamic” and if you had taken one second to search this on the interwebs you’d have found out that yes, he is in fact a Christian, and no, you shouldn’t make assumptions based on things as frivolous as people’s names, and yes, your parents probably are related you slack-jawed yokel. Only this guy apparently isn’t as much of a slack-jawed yokel as a representative sample of our voting electorate, as displayed by the fact that his church voted unanimously to keep this sign up, and as much as most people don’t want to admit it, these are the kinds of things that go through our minds as we walk into the voting booth.

It’s too difficult for us to research the issues, investigate the candidates and come to our own independent conclusion- we need things pre-packaged for us, we need it black-and-white, good vs. evil, we need the Black Guy vs. the Bitch, we need it all wrapped up neatly in a bow. We rely on rumors and hearsay and our gossipy neighbors-that’s why we know that Obama bowled a 37 but don’t really remember John McCain’s role in the Savings and Loan scandals of the 80’s (here's a primer: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keating_Five).

I hate to say it, but we deserve exactly the leaders we get, and if a smirking, faux-cowboy trust-fund baby, a legacy Yale and Harvard failed oil tycoon convinces us he could possibly have any of our best interests at heart, then whatever happens is our fault. If you don’t want shitty, ignorant leaders, then we need to stop being shitty, ignorant voters, and we need to reject the crap about flag pins and sniper fire and make the effort to educate ourselves. If all you know about John Edwards is that he allegedly pays $400 for his haircuts, then shame on you.

As the great philosopher Daniel Plainview might say: “I… drink… your… MILKSHAKE! I DRINK IT UP!” Right now, the political and economic elite are drinking our milkshake, and we’re way, way too lazy to do anything about it. They distract us with stupid bullshit, and while we’re sending each other YouTube clips of Obama’s pastor saying disturbing things about 9/11, they stick the long straw of stupidity into our milkshake. They drink it up.

* UPDATE: Elizabeth Edwards, wife of Sen. John Edwards, wrote a wonderful (and incredibly more eloquent) Op-Ed in the New York Times talking about much of the same I covered here, only, you know... better, and with much less profantiy and boner jokes. Check it out: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/27/opinion/27edwards.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1#

The Sweet/Weak List, Vol. 2

I’m like a bear awakening from hibernation. I’m just starting to pull out of the sleepy funk that is the gawd-fucking-awful winter of Michigan, and I’m ready to start hunting small animals and eating them. And by hunting small animals and eating them, I mean getting drunk on a boat, huffing ether and shooting guns at fish into the water, stuffing the ether rags into the empty beer bottles, lighting the rags and throwing the booze-ether bombs at the fish carcasses floating to the top of the water. I’d say the metaphor is pretty clear, you unimaginative jackass. Plus, how else do you fish? With a pole? Not high on ether? Whatever, Quaker.

So, to celebrate the impending horrific sight of my pasty-white albino skin roasting in the sun, here’s an all-new Sweet/Weak List: Summer edition.

Sweet

1: Drinking- What did you think was going to be first? My favorite summer drinks:

Oberon- This beer tastes like summer. Sunshine in a goddamn bottle. Mmmm. Now if everyone would stop naming their fucking dog after it, everything would be copasetic. Really- you named your dog after your favorite beer? How awesomely original yet subversive of you! It’s named Guinness because you drink Guinness! HAHAHAHA! Douche.

Corona- The only beer it’s acceptable to put fruit into. Ever drink a Corona without a lime? It tastes like piss. Mexican piss to be exact. And how do I know what Mexican piss tastes like, you ask? I won’t go into the story here, not only for brevity but also to avoid incriminating myself, but let’s just say it involves a shotgun, a potato chip shaped like the Virgin Mary, several bottles of absinthe, Rep. Barney Frank (D-MA), the NASA space shuttle program, another shotgun, and a church trip gone awry.

Long Island Ice Tea- Whomever Mr. Long Island is, the man is a certified genius. He discovered one day (no doubt after years and years of exhausting experiments and liver damage) that combining every liquor known to man, then adding a touch of lemon and cola adds up to one tremendous mind-screw of a drink. Bravo, Mr. Long Island, bravo. Still, if you could figure out a way to make me not black out and punch a nun after drinking seven of these in the sun, that would probably work out great for me and the local convent.

2: Baseball- As you can see from the previous posts, I care about baseball. Maybe a little too much. I also enjoy gambling on baseball. Again, maybe a little too much. I don’t care. There is no better way to spend a day than tailgating before a game, then marching up to the right field bleachers, soaking up the sun, sipping a cold beer and watching Jason Grilli give up seven runs in 2/3 of an inning. Wait, Grilli, how did you get into this? I can’t even romanticize baseball without you ruining it. GRILLLLLLLLLLI!!!

3: The U.P.- If you’ve never been in the summer, I feel sorry for you. Wait… never mind. It sucks up there. Don’t go. More spacious sand beaches, crystal-blue water and pasties for me. You would hate it up there. Trust me.

4: Camping- Hemingway I’m not (working on the beard), but I still love a good hike into the woods and a few nights spent under the stars. God I really hate Detroit sometimes.

5: Herman Hesse- I’ve been reading as much of his writing as I can get my hands on, and he has to be the most eloquent and thought-provoking writer from the early part of the century. A little hung up on Jungian and Freudian dogma for my taste, but still, wow, what an incredible talent. Note: contrary to what this picture may suggest, he was not a bronze statue. He really turned on the Creepy for this pic, though. I think that's his "come-hither-and-let-me-overwhelm-your-sense-of-faith-and-logic-with-my-German-postmodernist-nihilism-and-despair" look. Drove the ladies nuts.

6: Obama for President: He should have the nomination wrapped up by early summer, and thank god, because I really can’t take much more of the campaign coverage. I’m supporting him because of a couple things: I think he will pull our troops out of Iraq, I think he will negotiate with hostile nations and attempt to repair America’s image and perception abroad, his health care plan is decent (although Hillary’s is somewhat better), and I love the way he’s handled the bullshit flung his way so far. On the ABC debate the other night, the first questions were about why doesn’t he wear a flag pin on his lapel, asking him if he thinks his ex-reverend “loves America as much as he does”, and how he said some rural white voters are “bitter”. He addressed them directly for what they are, stupid petty bullshit distracting us from the larger issues, like oh, I don’t know… the fact that everybody is losing their jobs, if they had one in the first place… Or the fact that home foreclosures are skyrocketing at an incredible rate… Or the fact we’re caught in a quagmire of a clusterfuck in the desert, dangerously stretching our military, putting our soldiers in harm’s way for dubious and shady reasons? Whew.

Point is, I honestly think Obama can make some substantive headway into these issues- I make no illusions, I know he’s not the Political Jesus, but I think he’s in the best position to make progress in those areas.

* Political Jesus is a registered trademark of Ninja Please, a subsidiary of the Hanso Corporation.

Weak

1: Work- In college, I had a roommate who was from France. He was stinky, constantly smoked, a ridiculous misogynist, and a degenerate drunk. We got along great. Anyway, when we were moving out of our dorm, he asked me what I was going to do with my summer. I told him I was going back to my hometown to work for the city (which ended up with me being a part-time garbage man) to try and earn some cash for next school year. He scoffed in the uniquely French asshole-ish way, blew some smoke at me and said “We have no zuch zing as ‘zummer jobs’. I will be returning with my family to ze Mediterranean for our zummer ‘oliday.” I asked him what the fuck he was talking about, and he let me in on the little secret that his country practically shuts down for long stretches of the summer, so everyone can go on vacation and wear bright-colored Speedos and drunk drive little scooters. Also, they only work like 35 hours a week, and take giant breaks in the middle of the day to have a huge meal with wine. I was ashamed, intrigued, but most of all furious that I live in a country that doesn’t shut down so I can go tan in a disturbing little thong and hit on chicks with armpit hair. Fuckin’ America, with our stupid ‘work ethic’ and ‘consumerism culture’ and ‘capitalism’. Instead, I’ll be trapped in my shitty cubicle, workin’ for The Man. If blended socialism can give me six weeks off in the summer, I’ll get a tattoo of Lenin on my left asscheek and Marx on the right. Workers of the World, Unite! Also, Take A Vacation! In the Summer! Seriously, You Need a Break! I’m so totally a commie now.

2: My ‘02 Pontiac Grand Prix- Yeah, this is the shitbox that I drive, and just listen to the litany of problems I’ve had with this turd in the last couple of months: broken windshield (2nd time), broken tie rod (2nd time), punctured break line, blown transmission (a $2000 repair- AWESOME), loss of power steering, and now a leak in the intake manifold something or other (not a big car guy as you can tell), all I know is it’s going to be another several hundred dollars to fix. FUCK YOU GM. I will never, ever EVER purchase another one of your automobiles. And don’t give me that bullshit about how I have to buy American, I can’t fucking afford to buy American. Make better cars and then I might buy one.

3: Gas prices- wasn’t the real reason we invaded Iraq to steal all their oil? My God, the Bush Administration can’t even carry out their nefarious ulterior motives with any sort of competence. We’re hemorrhaging billions of dollars, thousands of our soldiers are dying, and I still have to pay $3.50 a gallon for gas? Way to go, assholes. I’m working on a car right now that is powered by burning $20 bills, I figure pretty soon that should be an economical use of paper money. In fact, I’m still waiting for my flying car that runs off of garbage, so I can take it to the future and buy a sports almanac in order to bet on games and become a zillionaire. Where we’re going, we don’t need roads. Um… what was I talking about?

4: Iron-Man not being out yet- This is unacceptable. I have been waiting for this movie forever, and I want to see it. NOW. Let’s go. Chop chop.

5: Waiting for Lost to return- C’mon… daddy needs his medicine.

6: Quakers- They know what they did. Fuckin’ Quakers. They’ll pay. They’ll ALL pay.