Saturday, October 28, 2006

Neale Donald Walsch, Spiritual Guru

















Neale Donald Walsch
Spiritual Guru

What do you do when you have nine children, five failed marriages, no money, a broken neck from an accident and you live in Oregon as the only guy who can’t score weed? You claim to speak to God. After raking in millions of dollars in sales and speaking engagements, you find yourself here, as a sonofabitch.

Seven million copies of his 1995 book, Conversations with God have been sold. It has been translated into more than a dozen languages. His book is so popular, he has written several sequels. Funny that God didn’t learn from all those Police Academy movies. He also has a Conversations with God for Teens. And here I thought the O’Reilly Factor for Kids was obscene.

Why does God only speak to desperate people? Don’t you think he’d more likely be a get for Diane Sawyer or Katie Couric? No, God seems to commune with people who have little money and who like to read a lot (I guess Sawyer and Couric are out). Not fair, but I guess any tactic is reasonable when you have MasterCard breathing down your neck.

As Georges Bataille wrote in Theory of Religion, “…the positing, in the world, of a ‘supreme being,’ distinct and limited like a thing, is first of all an impoverishment. There is doubtless, in the invention of a supreme being, a determination to define a value that is greater than any other. But this desire to increase results in diminution. The objective personality…”LKJLKJ:CKLJLK DLLSJIOIOEIKC>>ALOIE()*#$*OE(&OIDJ)(*FO)(*DFU(S LjlkjlkjliUOIJOIJolkoi OPIUOLKNMOIJOJOIJOJLKXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX…………

Sorry about that. I have to possess the writer for a moment. This is God. Let me clarify a few things. I’m the real deal. I did not speak through Jesus, Mohammad, Moses, and certainly not Abraham. Do you really think I’d be dick enough to tell a guy to kill his kid in order to impress me? I saw all that go down, exasperated, as Abraham continuously melted down and then changed his mind. I could have told him to stop, but I kind of knew he would come around on his own, only way these nuts are going to learn. You should have seen how awkward the family dinners were between those two after that. Man, Isaac was pissed. Then again, his old man was like hundred years old or something like that.

I’m definitely not speaking through Neale Donald Walsch. I know he claims to be just “inspired” by God, but that’s just semantic nuance. Why call your book Conversations with God, then say, “no, these are not REAL conversations.” People believe this crap. Like there is a difference between benchmarks and timetables.

And, why is it I only say things to make people feel better? Why am I moody like a human? I’m benevolent at one turn, wrathful the next. I don’t have bad days. Rain doesn’t piss me off and lead me to bomb a city.

These people want your money, I don’t. Why is it that in these conversations books, I never say “blow jobs on demand?” People won’t believe it because they don’t want to hear it (well, I guess some don’t). Instead I’m always saying “love each other” and “treat others as you would be treated” and “support tax cuts.” I’m a bit busy for that crap. Damn, why did I make everyone so gullible?

No parting wisdom here. Is Hitler in Heaven like Walsch writes? Not really. We passed in the hallway a few times. I just shook my head and walked past him. He’s not the only jerk to disappoint me. I’ll reserve my judgments on the living for now, but those that focus on the afterlife without any proof but a book you picked up at Holiday Inn is not the best way to go. No fire, no virgins, no harps. Lot’s of pissed off people here, trying to get back to your world. Hey, what do you want from me? I can’t kill everyone that claims to speak for me. Plus, it’s just no fun.

So in closing, save your money, don’t believe the hype... and blow jobs on demand.

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Lynne Cheney, Second Lady

















Lynne Cheney
Second Lady/Culture Warrior

Back in 1981, I read probably the hottest book of my middle-aged life. Up until that point, I was a devout Calvinist, shunning much the was unfamiliar to much of the omnipresent secular world, constantly berating the female employees at my office for wearing pants and shoes outside of the kitchen. Nothing screams “not of the elect” as a woman who shuns the conventions of my world view, then it happened.

I was participating in a joint book fire with my church and the John Birch people when I gave in. I reached down into my assigned burlap sack, brimming with such titles as My Many Colored Days by Dr. Seuss and Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume when I saw a book with two sultry women pioneers were staring out at me. My thought process was that this tome entitled Sisters by a woman I greatly admired, Lynne Cheney. Cheney was the wife of Rep. Dick Cheney (R-WY), who is currently the Vice-President of the United States of America. The year before, my wife and I had both written checks toward the Congressman’s re-election fund (full disclosure, my wife was not aware that I had opened a checking account in her name that I frequently used to launder money, seeing as I had forbidden her to pick up a pen or pencil for any task not germaine to child rearing). I had presumed that the book must be an appropriate work that had mistakenly been included by pranksters from the local Communist Party.

…She took off her dress, her petticoat, her corset, her stockings. Even her lacy undershif and drawers were wet, clinging to her body before she stripped them off. Standing naked, she opened the volume on the bedside table and took out the letter she had put there earlier. Clutching it with one hand, she pulled back the bedclothes with the other and got into bed, burying her face in the pillow.

Reading this words that seemed to leap off of the page and attack my senses was an awakening. Could words unlock such verboten desires, lying in a permanent state of dormancy since the womb, unleashed with such a fury that had no equal? To think that these words were nearly lost forever, rescued from the bonfire of profanity that sought to save the world from its own longings for freedom and sexual liberation. My life soon took on a series of changes.

I stopped beating my wife. I started reading the newspaper. I stopped littering. I grew a moustache. I went on the first of several sex tours in Thailand. I went to church only once per week. I had an affair with that girl from the clinic. I reconciled with my son. I loosened the spiked cilice around my thigh two notches. I wrote a song. I became a vegetarian. I had an affair with the guy at the library. I let my children celebrate Halloween. I began wearing eye liner. I bought a television. I allowed my wife to leave the house. I got divorced. I had erotic blood rituals.

What upsets me is that twenty-five years later; Lynne Cheney is denying much of the beautiful poetry that lies between the covers of Sisters. Recently on CNN, Cheney told Wolf Blitzer “I have never written anything sexually explicit.” This cut to the core of me. Not the sexy type of cutting that I and my third ex-wife used to partake in, but in a deeper, emotional sense. Cheney opened my eyes to the power of words and sex and combining the two in book form. My understanding of women grew after reading this book. Consider this passage:

…Soon, she moved to the floor, where she began making a pattern with objects from the mantelpiece. She was sitting with her legs bent in inverted V’s, and when she leaned back on her arms to consider her arrangement, Sophie saw that the front of her dress strained slightly. Her breasts were growing, and Sophie wondered if she had begun to menstruate yet. And if she had, would she tell her about it? Would her odd matter-of-factness carry over to her own coming of age?

Sophie remembered when her own flow had begun. She felt obliged to tell her grandmother, had gone looking for her, not because she wanted to tell her, but because she thought she should. Deer Woman had been sewing a pair of moccasins when Sophie found her. “The bleeding—it’s begun for me,” she blurted out.

I know for a fact that this passage is sexually explicit, because I read it to the congregation one day at Church and was informed by the ministry that it was clearly sexually explicit and that leather chaps were inappropriate for the Sabbath. Unfortunately I was branded on my thumbs with two “P’s” (for perversion) and shunned for eternity. It mattered not that I was considered part of the Elect, for as far as I was concerned, God made the rules, John Calvin wrote them down, and I was in the heaven club no matter what I did on this earthly paradise of sinful delights.

I was delighted in 1986 when Mrs. Cheney was appointed to the National Endowment for the Humanities. Here is the golden opportunity where the government can now fund more works like Sisters and perhaps more of my hidden passions my manifest themselves. What appalled me was how Mrs. Cheney did not follow the lead established by the National Endowment of the Humanities (NEH) and fund work by Renaissance men such as Robert Mapplethorpe, a man who had photographed me several times while we vacationed together. Why had she abandoned her sensibilities? I was left heartbroken, sad and blue-balled.

Mrs. Cheney has more recently avoided her true past. She lied to Cokie Roberts in 2000, who inquired about her lesbian daughter Mary. "Mary has never declared such a thing," despite that she in fact had ten years prior and had been working for Coors Brewing Company as their official "liaison to the gay community."

Mrs. Cheney does not believe in a static history, rather one that evolves where events change to resemble completely different realities. She pressured the Department of Education to destroy 300,000 copies of a pamphlet entitled “Helping Your Children Learn History” (costing taxpayers $110,360). The objection centered on the National History Standards that she helped fund under the NEH with the Department of Education. She criticized the final product for giving insufficient attention to heroes like the Wright Brothers and Robert E. Lee and too much attention to lawbreakers like Harriet Tubman.

Personally, I really don’t care what Mrs. Cheney does to American History, but her past connects deeply to my past. Reading Sisters, I felt alive for the first time. To deny the sexiness of this work is to deny my sexiness, which I can’t let happen. I’ve had far too much sex, so there is no going back. In full disclosure, I am fully protected in my activities, as was made clear in this passage from Sisters:

…There were several small sponges, each in a silken net with a string attached. There were packets marked “Preventive Powders,” and lined up in neat rows were several dozen condoms.

“But the sheaths are really the best. Sometimes men don’t like them.” She stared into space for a moment, seeming to remember something; then she gave a small shrug. “But since it is they who get us with child, don’t you think they should cooperate?”

Safety first, I couldn’t agree more.

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Friday, October 27, 2006

Kim Jong-Il, President of North Korea









Kim Jong-Il
President, North Korea

Why? Come on, why build the bomb? Could you just hold off for a couple of years until we get someone with a brain between his ears to lead us?

In case you haven’t noticed, we are being lead by a complete moron who is incapable of making complete sentences, let alone stewarding a comprehensive plan of diplomacy and containment. Wait until we get a less retarded leader, then I promise, I won’t freak out that much.

You do have a fucked up sense of priorities and style. Platform shoes are just fucking gay. That alone should make you a sonofabitch, but I’d like to take a different approach. Rather than go the pundit route of your freakish looks, you should be shot in the balls for adding to the list of nuke nations. Feed your fucking people asshole. The average height of people in your country is 5’ 5” and shrinking by the year. Is it your strategy to create a grand army of oompah loompahs, making it harder for us to shoot them? That’s actually a pretty good strategy; the ant people have a bomb. Be careful though, one day you may not even be able to reach the button. Get them phone books out.

The United States should not throw stones that hard though. Roughly 26% (despite gov’t figures that are less) of the federal budget goes to current military expenditures (not including veteran’s benefits) while 37 million people are below the poverty line. Plus, talk about style. While Kim can be a freak, we have a President that claims to speak to an imaginary friend that nobody else can see on a regular basis (you call him God). I give you the edge though, because believe it or not, I find you worse than Bush. Not as bad as Hitler, but worse than the douche-bag in chief.

Kim Jong-Il has every home equipped with a radio that churns out propaganda. This radio can not be turned off, only made less noisy. That’s an insane fucking reach for any dick leader. On top of that, the homeless orphans on the streets are disappearing to starved cannibals. It really is a shit hole there.

Sadly, I know people. You do have a bomb. In years, we are going to start calling you friend, not because you’re cool (we’ve established you are a fucking dick), but because you have a nuclear weapon. You get it, force is the only thing us jackasses around the world respond to. If you use this to get your foot in the door, maybe you can now start feeding your people for Christ’s sake. I understand why you wanted the bomb. Hell, I wouldn’t mind having one. I’d carry it with me everywhere I went, showing people. I’d go to the tavern, slam it on the bar and yell “Whiskey, NOW!” You should do the same, only hold off on the Irish water and get food instead.

Anybody with a nuke is arrogant. You’d be a cunt with or without one.

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Thursday, October 26, 2006

Jim Caviezel, Actor











Jim Caviezel
Just some fucking Actor

“I’m no Jesus, but I played one in the movies,” goes the refrain. I just saw this ad where JC tells us how wrong it is to deny citizenship to a glob of goo in the name of science. I know the left gets shit on when actors and musicians get on the soapbox, but where is it on the other side? Where’s that genius Laura Ingraham, author of “Shut up and Sing” to excoriate the method acting messiah for dipping his toe in an area where he should be forbidden to tread?

Why is it that John Wayne gets respect for hating blacks, Mel Gibson for hating Jews and JC for hating science, yet when a lefty with some free time and a bad case of the shakes sticks his neck out, there’s hell to pay? Rush Limbaugh didn’t cotton to Michael J. Fox’s pleas for reason and nor did JC. Sure, I agree with the statement, “You’re all stupid fucking actors, so who gives a shit.” I also agree with the statement, “You’re all stupid mechanics,” and “You’re all stupid lawyers” and “You’re all stupid mothers.” Chances are, if you live in this country, you have to be somewhat stupid, how else do you account for the fact that only roughly a third of this country believes in evolution, and out of 34 countries, the United States is only above Turkey in the percentage of people that get it? “You’re a stupid fucking American, shut up and sing.”

Why should we care that Caviezel played Jesus? I could kick ass as Jesus. To get into character, I’d tell people to misinterpret me. Jesus could give a shit about stem cells. I seem to remember a shit load of pages in the Bible about Jesus relieving the suffering of people with various ailments. Will touching Jim Caviezel’s Prada jacket give peace to Alex Keaton’s restlessness? No, getting smart people into a room with a huge tank of stem cells and…well, I’m no scientist. I have no idea what it is they do, nor do I care. They could ookie cookie on the damn things if it cures disease as far as I’m concerned. Darwin didn’t put me on this earth to dabble in science, though I will allow those that have that inclination to have free reign. Clone, poke and prod away.

Caviezel, if you can walk on water, I can run. You are just an actor who doesn’t agree with me, which means that I now have the right to boycott you. Call it balance asshole. I’m doing it for the Dixie Chicks and Bill Maher, people that ran afoul of the new climate of patriotic and Christian Correctness. When you stared into the camera and said “You know now. Don’t do it. Vote no,” I realized that any douche that would volunteer his name to any commercial that gave equal billing to Kurt Warner has to be a God freak. Funny, I don’t know of much you’ve been doing since the Jesus movies. Goes to show you kids, get too religious, your career will mirror that of Kurt Warner and Jim Caviezel.

Sorry Laura Ingraham, for JC has broken a strong tenet of your book, as listed in your press, “Actors: how their training and entire life's work leads them inexorably to a liberal position.” Maybe you’re not that smart after all and the right wing loves you for your chunch and not your brain. Damn that Caviezel, who does he think he is?

Oh, I think I have an idea.

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Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Jeffrey Skilling - Enron CEO










Jeffrey Skilling
Enron CEO

Finally, this asshole has to serve twenty-four years in the federal hoosegow and pay restitutions. A dick to the end, he expressed zero remorse for his crimes, just prior to the judge’s sentencing. Didn’t help that the other dick died back in July 5th of a heart attack and had his conviction erased, which by default put the entire thing squarely on your shoulders. If Kenny-boy, as Bush called him could hold out just long enough to make that trip into Cell-Block Four, Jeffrey could have gotten twenty-two years instead of twenty-four.

Ah hell, there is no schedenzfraude here. It can’t be easy for any fish, no matter how old, white and doughy you may be. Prison can be an unforgiving place, however you have the good fortune of a business degree from Harvard. Prison economics work like economies everywhere else in the world, though sometimes the penalties for malfeasance can be a bit more extreme than what we know in the square world. Let’s see what we can learn from the counts of your convictions, followed by practical applications for your brand new life around the bend.

Conspiracy (one count): Selling $60 million in stock shortly before the ship sank? Did you really think that nobody would notice? The CEO takes a dump on the market a month after his resignation, months prior to the shitstorm? Little goes down in the joint without scrutiny. If the Aryan Brotherhood notices you unloading ten cartons of cigarettes into the Gen. Pop. Only weeks prior to an institutional ban, you’ll be shivved before you can blame Adam Smith and the free tobacco market. Everyone’s got an angle, but you’ve seen OZ. You know when fish get out of line.

Securities Fraud (five counts): For the smartest guy in the room to defraud millions of folks, kill 4,000 jobs and ask “What me Worry” is such glaring hubris. If you have a network in the joint of guys doing favors, work or snitching, you better treat them a shade better. The suckers that chastised you in the media and during the trial will be a walk in the park next to the Hell’s Angel that shoves a pool cue up your starfish, stopping at the back of your teeth. In prison, avoid the fraud, switch to assault and the occasional stabbing.

Making False Statements (twelve counts): Lying to your creditors? Big fucking deal. When MasterCard calls me about money, I tell them to hold their breath because the check is already in the mail and my top priority is to pay them. However, you lied to your employees, stockholders and anyone gullible enough to buy a piece of this shitberry pie. The climate is much different in the joint. If the bulls toss your cell looking for skag or blow and you hold out on them, its shank city and a week in the hole. We all lie, but only retards like you get caught. Be careful when you lie to the guards, for even though they don’t run the joint, they can be helpful smuggling cocaine into the walls. The only alternative would for your wife to mule that shit in by swallowing and shitting out rock filled rubbers. Be careful when you fib.

Also, your first day in should be one where you get it all out of the way. You will have sex with another man. Just go and present, like they do on Animal Planet. Sure, you may become a sissy for a few weeks, but soon enough, you’ll figure out the game and not have to where that prison issue school girl uniform. Then, knock on steel, you may get a bitch of your own. Like stocks, each has its own value. Learn the game. Also, get a meningitis shot and don’t let that prison hooch ferment too long, you could develop a parasite.

Then again, that might be somewhat appropriate.

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Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Roy Blunt, (R-MO)


















Roy Blunt (R-MO)

Majority Whip

"This list of the bills most likely to be championed by committee chairmen in a Pelosi-led House of Representatives would be great fodder for the latenight talk show hosts if it weren't true," House Majority Whip Roy Blunt said. "Instead, it's just plain scary. While Republicans fight the War on Terror, grow our robust economy, and crack down on illegal immigration, House Democrats plot to establish a Department of Peace, raise your taxes, and minimize penalties for crack dealers. The difference couldn't be starker."

-Press Release from the Majority Whip office

Thursday, October 19, 2006

I also hear that Democrats advocate mandatory molestation of Cub Scouts and want to push for fifth trimester abortions. Why did he leave these gems out? Who knows if this dick even believes his own bile. I don’t, neither should you.

Why not? Because it is false. The Democrats will take over the House, but they will do nothing. NOTHING. Do you really think voting Democrat will solve your problems? Do you think voting will solve your problems? Reality check, on November 8, the drug war will still drain, Iraq will still burn and the President will still be as smart as a head-gear kid.

Does anyone find it odd that this is all happening? Even conservative columnists like Johan Goldberg and Andrew Sullivan have opined that this may not be a bad thing, and that this may inject some balance in a spendthrift government.

It’s a total fucking set-up. This happened before in Germany in 1918. Prior to Germany surrendering, the military surrendered power to the Weimart Republic, scapegoating them, the Jews and the Socialists long enough for Hitler to come to power in 1933. The Democrats are going to pussy out on any substantial reform, draining the energy from their base, leading to a McCain presidency in 2008. It’s going to happen. In fact, I’m so certain, let’s just start saying it has already happened.

The Democrats will tickle labor’s balls and blow in the feminists ears, but there will be no change. Life will suck and God will soon kill us all. Expectations are going up, but do you really think bible thumper fuck nuts in the White House will actually sign a bill establishing the Department of Peace? No war mongering Christian in their not so right mind would do such a thing. There is a Senate and a President that will still be run by the usual assholes, what chance does any of them have? None, because it is all a complete waste of time. People delude themselves as to the true power of politicians. Lucy will once again pull the football from you, you stupid fucking blockhead.

Which brings me to Roy Blunt. This guy is a fucking nut and a kook, who is screwing up the plan. Republicans need the Dems to take over the House, just to point out to America how pointless voting is. If he continues with this usual sturm and drang of fearmongering, the GOP may actually keep a hold on the House, despite the near bad touches of pages by Foley, Kolbe and Sen. Santorum (I want to get sued).

No wonder Blunt lost the leadership struggle with Rep. Boehner. Blunty, you just lack the vision. Now do us a favor, shut up, praise that old creep in the clouds and brace yourself for the rising tide of low expectations.

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