I Can't Imagine

It was a normal Thursday morning, a day like any other day. She was 16 and recently earned her driver's license. She got up early, got ready for school, and then went outside to get into her car.

She still got excited every time she saw it. Her car. It was her car.

She got into her car, started it up and turned on the radio. Then she headed out for school.

Rush hour traffic is never fun, but here in the Rocket City it never gets heavy enough to slow anyone down much. Ironically, it never goes fast enough for anyone to really get moving either.

She was driving along, down the neighborhood streets and out onto the highway. It was the same route she traveled every day on her way to school. It never changed. It was never exciting. Except that now she was the driver, not a passenger, and for her that much was exciting.

"Ah, sweet freedom!"

She probably didn't even notice the truck as she passed through the intersection. She had the right of way anyway, so why should it matter?

But it did matter because the truck didn't stop.

They collided. She came to a violent and abrupt stop. An airbag appeared from seemingly out of nowhere and punched her in the face. Her shiny little car crumpled around her as shiny little cars are prone to do. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. Her heart was pounding. Her breathing was rapid and heavy. The sounds of screeching tires followed by an enormous BANG and a shower of glass echoed in her mind. Did that really just happen?

She looked around her. She had hit a large tanker truck. They were both stopped now in the middle of the intersection. All the other cars were stopped, blocked by the two vehicles. Everyone was looking at her.

It was then that she realized she had a problem. When she tried to get out of her car she found that couldn't. It was smashed and ruined around her. The dash was right on top of her and the air bag was deflated and sagging on her lap. Her seatbelt was locked up tight and would not let go. Her entire lower half was pinned and pressed underneath the dash. She was stuck there in her car.

"Oh no, oh no, tell me this isn't really happening. I can NOT believe this! I didn't even do anything WRONG!" She began searching for her cell phone. It was right there in her console inside her purse. "Oh, my parents are going to KILL me!" She dialed the number for home.

"Hi. I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon. Is everything alright?" asked a familiar voice on the other end.

"Mom? I've been in an accident. I'm OK, but my car is smashed. I think I hit a truck. It wasn't my fault, I swear. He must have run the stop sign."

"Oh my God! Are you OK?"

"Yes, I think so. I just can't get out of the car. I'm stuck."

"Oh my God! Your father hasn't left for work yet. I'm going to get him and we'll be right there, OK?"

"OK. Thanks Mom."

It didn't take long for Mom and Dad to arrive. It wasn't that far from home to school, or much of anywhere else in this city. They pulled their car to the side of the road and walked over to their daughter.

"Are you all right, Honey?"

"Yes, but I can't get out, Dad. See? The dash is on top of my legs and my seatbelt is stuck, too. My feet are stuck under there."

"OK, the important thing is that you're all right. We'll get the firemen to come and they'll get you out."

She felt like crying, but she didn't. "It wasn't my fault, Dad."

"I know. I can see that he ran the sign. Hang on, I'm calling for the firemen."

Everything was going to be OK. His angel was fine. The car was a total wreck, but his beautiful 16-year-old daughter was OK and that was the most important thing.

"911. What's your emergency?"

"Hello? Yes, I'm at the intersection of highway 150 and Smith Road and my daughter has been in an accident."

"Is anyone hurt?"

"No, but she's trapped in the car and can't get out. She needs someone to cut her out of the car."

"Alright sir, but no one is injured? Does anyone need a paramedic?"

"No, she's fine. Everyone is fine. We just need the police and someone to cut the car open and get my daughter out."

"Alright sir, there is a firetruck and a police unit already on the way. It'll be just a few minutes."

"Thank you. Thank you very much!"

Time passed. It seemed like an eternity. No police. No firemen. And everyone in all their cars just staring. The truck and wrecked car were all over the intersection. Getting around the accident scene was extremely difficult and traffic was backed up all the way down the road in both directions.

Meanwhile, something was leaking. Something was getting hot. Something was beginning to smolder.

And then it happened.


The car was on fire!

"Oh my God, honey, her car is on fire! Look!" she said, pointing to the smoke coming from out of the young girl's car.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!"

Everyone was thinking it. Everyone in their cars in traffic, jammed bumper to bumper at a complete stop, sitting and gawking at the mangled scene was saying it to themselves in unison. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh no!"

The smoke turned to fire. Some people sat in their cars, covering their mouths in shock. Some jumped into action, leaping out of their cars and running to the now burning car.

Does anyone have a fire extinguisher? Does anyone have any tools? Can't anyone do something?!

It didn't matter how many people there were. It didn't matter how badly they wanted to pull the 16-year-old girl from out of her now burning car. She was stuck tight. They had no tools. They had no fire extinguishers. They had only the panic of a raging fire and a desperate desire to save a 16-year-old girl from a horrible death.

But they could not.

There, in front of both of her parents, this 16-year-old girl burned to death while trapped inside her car. And there was nothing anyone could do.

This happened this morning sometime between 7 a.m. and 8 a.m. People came into work late, talking about the horrible wreck and the raging fire. Many people said how they had to turn around and find another way to get to their jobs because the police had blocked off the entire highway.

Most people didn't realize that a teenage girl had died right there within sight of them. They knew only that something horrible had happened and that someone's car was burning. Some knew that a person had died, but most had no idea who.

Later that day word began to spread. It was the daughter of someone we all know. It was the child of someone we see every day. Some people asked that we all pray for the family.

I sat there, thinking about this nightmare and wondering how in the world does a parent recover from something like this? I cannot imagine it. I cannot think of a single thing more horrible than watching your own child die this way and not being able to save them.

This  is really all that I know to say.

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An Open Letter to My Testicles by Barack Obama

An Open Letter To My Testicles

by Barack Obama

"When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me - about how I'd make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn't seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realized that my own life wouldn't count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours. In the end, boys, that's why I ran for President: because of what I want for you from every girl in this nation. "

(He's using Hallmark cards to create his speeches now. Genius!)

Circumstances have changed. I have a decision to make. Shall I go private and forever limit who can read my blog to a handful who today may be interested, but tomorrow will likely have moved on to other things? Shall I call it a day and end here? Should I move to another location, emailing those who express interest to tell them where I have gone to? Or shall I ignore everything and just continue to blunder onward, letting the chips fall where they may and to hell with the consequences?

Consequences, Schmonsequences, as long as I'm rich

There was once a time when I blogged for no one, expecting no one to come and read my stupidity except myself. I had been encouraged to become a writer, specifically an op/ed columnist, and I thought this blog would be the perfect place to practice. I had expected the daily writing to improve my writing skills. As it turns out, I believe my spelling and grammar have grown worse, my ability to stick to a point or drive steadily toward a single conclusion have not improved in the least, my op/ed political commentary has gone from a confident and consistent view to a more "fuck it, let's all get drunk and throw food at the whole lot of'em" attitude, and my enthusiasm for daily writing about anything that strikes my fancy has waned.

Today, I blog as much for the entertainment of the other bloggers whom I admire as I do for myself. Not that I stop offending all of you whenever the mood strikes me. I mean, clearly I write offensive things when I feel like it. I hold firmly to the view that my blog is nothing more than a drunken rant in a bar somewhere and has no real influence on anyone or anything of consequence regardless of how many times I hear television reporters mention "The Bloggers" on the air. I know who they mean, and it isn't me. This being the case, then, it matters to me who does and to a lesser extent, who does not read my blog. When I detect someone reading my blog who comes a little too close to home it sometimes bothers me. The fact is, the more anonymous a writer is, the more easily that writer can say whatever there is a need to say. Conversely, when your name, face and home address are plastered to something you've written, it greatly impacts your willingness to speak freely.

So, decisions decisions. Shall I stay or shall I go? If I could access YouTube from here I'd paste that song in below. But as I cannot, you'll simply have to go find it for yourself and pretend I pasted it, OK? Thanks.

Oh, and happy Australia Day, by the way, you lucky bastards!

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A short but sweet meme.

I was tagged by Bella for this.

1. Choose the 4th folder where you store your pictures on your computer.
2. Select the 4th picture in the folder.
3. Explain the picture.
4. Tag 4 people to do the same.

OK, here at work, this is what I found:

This is a photo from a news story about a Halloween dog show in the Philippines. It has absolutely nothing to do with me. But hey, chicks love pirates, right? And divorced single women love dogs? And Paris Hilton and other extremely insecure wealthy celebrity sluts love little yappy dogs? So maybe this photo will draw some rich celebrity women to my blog? Kim Kardashian, are you there? It's worth a shot.

Now I'm supposed to tag 4 people, because we all know how much you guys love being tagged for stuff, right?

I tag:

Shila Shila
Sweet Cheeks

There, now get busy and let's see those photos. No slacking!

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My Ass Continues to Speak

Whatever this is that I'm sick with has transformed all of my farts into projectile pooping. It seems that anything that feels like the tiniest of farts is in actuality a gigantic explosion of poo waiting to surprise me. And surprise me it does. It's quite messy, in fact.

Obama's inauguration is over, but here in America we'll be bombarded with adoring media rehashing of the whole thing for days on end. It seems that every word that comes out of Obama's mouth is just angelic heavenly music to the Left, the Liberals, and the True Believers who worship him as a gigantic black god.

I wonder if they'd love him so much if they knew that all those words are written by a 27-year-old white boy from Massachusetts College of the Holy Cross? No wonder all his speeches sound so much like a church sermon. It's because they are.

Enough about Messiah Obama though. The TV and newspapers are going to give us all such a massive overdose of him that I'm almost afraid to even mention him for fear that when the nausea finally hits The Masses, they might tune me out along with all the rest. Lord knows I don't need that.

Just today, in response to my ass' last random thoughts about Obama, someone dropped me from their list of blogs they follow. I only had 17 followers so it was easily noticable. And all for the worship of a politician. Such a waste.

Speaking of people dropping me, my favorite blogger in all the world, whom I have known for 3 years, has apparently dropped me from their life. I don't hear from them anymore. My emails are like the morning paper, bouncing off the garage door, never to be picked up or read. The rain is just washing my words away. Perhaps I offended them? Perhaps they were just too polite to tell me that they were rather tired of me and wished I'd quietly leave? I'll never know, but I'll always wonder. And I'll miss them more than I can possibly express in words.

Another friend, a girl named Courtney whom I have known now for 5 years, abruptly cut me off, dropping me on Facebook and even blocking me. It seems that we have a mutual friend, a guy I've known since college. His mother, a militant misandric feminist, was my advisor in the College of Science at the university where I earned my degree. His younger sister, a violent sex-offender and even bigger misandric sexist than his mother, graduated high school with me. He's older than I am and on occasion several of us harass him for being 'the world's oldest bachelor.' Well, growing up in a household with a dead father and 2 man-hating feminists can sometimes do that to a man, so we don't really blame him for his problems maintaining a relationship with women. But we do embarass him every once in awhile. Anyway, this time I embarassed him in front of this girl we both know when I called him the world's oldest bachelor. He's sensitive about age, as I discovered. He was unusually quiet and later took her aside and slammed me. He denies he said anything mean, but clearly whatever he didn't say was so extreme that she promptly dropped and blocked me, not even bothering to speak to me. I have no idea what he said, or rather didn't say, because you know he insists he said nothing. The problem is, he's not very good at lying, while I am very good at detecting when people are lying. The combination makes for interesting conversations. Not that we'll be having any more of those any time soon. With friends like these ...

He's a brand new deacon at the local Baptist Church, by the way. BooYA!

A third party in this triangle of love, old age, and the internet, is The Girlie, the girl I have been advising on her love life for a year and a half now. She's best friends with Courtney. When I mentioned the whole incident to her she was baffled. She did admit that Courtney is rather humorless, like My Deacon Friend, and prone to extreme reactions and poor choices in relationships. In other words, she tends to prefer guys who treat her like shit. So My Deacon Friend is a perfect buddy for her, I suppose. I had on rare occasions offered a select few words of advice to Courtney on some of the failed relationships she had mentioned to me in the past. She wasn't receptive, though, and continues to pick high testosterone boyfriends with low opinions of her who gladly 'do her' until the next hottie comes along, at which point she's dumped.

I'm behind at work. Being sick doesn't help speed things along. Also, being distracted by socializing doesn't help much either. My blog is getting in my way. Its future is uncertain, as is my own. I'm not sure if I can continue or even want to. I'm sure the next four years will provide me with endless entertaining topics to discuss, but I'm not sure that I have the energy. Also, the Democrats, now in complete control of all branches of our government, are moving to pass an old law, already declared Unconstitutional by the Supreme Court, which will make it impossible for anyone in the United States with a non-leftist view to speak or be heard on the airwaves or internet. If they do this, Google will be forced to shut down my blog, as well as most of yours, without giving me a chance to say 'goodbye'. I'd hate for that to happen. But such is the price of change for change's sake sometimes. We'll see how this goes.

Normally I'd be pulling out funky news stories right about now, and commenting on the stupidity of it all. But I just don't feel it. Maybe it's this medicine? Or maybe I'm just tired? Whatever the case, this is all I have to say for awhile.

Not goodbye. Just a good song.
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Thoughts from My Ass

I need to write a new post, but I'm sick and don't feel terribly inspired. There are plenty of things I could write about, but I don't feel much like writing about any of them. I'm not sure why. Anyway, I guess I'm going to write about things I don't feel inspired to write about, things I couldn't care less about. For example ...

Obama's giant, most-expensive-ever, inauguration.


I've been aware for quite some time that moron ex-hippies from the baby boomer generation think that if a man is black, he must be noble and good and better than you. Also, if he's gay or an American Indian or a Middle Eastern terrorist or homeless. Anyway, to the ex-hippies of the Woodstock generation, being a black man gives you an instant free pass. You can spout off all the stupidity and racism you want and they'll applaud you for it.

Still, why so much hoopla over the inaguration of Obama? He hasn't done anything of note, other than being right smack in the middle of the sub-prime mortage crisis that robbed the entire world in one fell swoop, that is. I mean, I know people tend to love a Bonnie and Clyde type, a criminal who gets away with the cash in a blaze of gunfire and glory, but the fact is there wasn't any gunfire and glory. So what's the deal here?

Is it because he's half-black? Is that all it is? Because it sure as hell looks that way to me, and I can't help but think that if this is why so many people are swooning over this Chicago mafia politician, then they're all racists. And I mean that with all my heart. If you think a man is better suited to lead because he's blacker than you are then you are a racist. If your sole reason for being excited about Barack Obama becoming president is the color of his skin, then you, sir or madam, are a flaming bigoted racist. Yes sir, it's true.

I say this because, first of all, anyone who doesn't like him is automatically accused of racism. And secondly, because no one raising their hands and chanting "Amen, brother Obama, Amen and praise Jesus" has produced one single example of something worthwhile that Obama has done to explain their trust in him. The man was in the Senate for all of 4 years and this is the sum total of his entire career. So what did he do in those 4 years? What groundbreaking legislation did he sponsor? What leadership role did he play?

None. Zip. Zero. Zilch.

Before I go on, let me point out that liking him or having voted for him is not the same thing as swooning over him or going to his inaguaration and peeing yourself with excitement over him. There's a difference and I am fully aware of that.

Now, getting back to the point, having grown up in several big Baptist churches, I've seen my share of charismatic flim-flam men who come into town, whip the old ladies into an orgasmic frenzy of "hallelujah"s with empty rhetoric and an even emptier suit, and then disappeared with wads of cash. Also, whenever anyone wants to run for the position of City Prosecutor, he always makes a sudden appearence at the largest and most influential Baptist church in town, where he shakes lots of hands and smiles at lots of easily influenced old ladies. He suddenly 'finds Jesus' just long enough to get elected, after which he is never seen in church again. So when I say I am familiar with bullshitters I want you to know that I mean it. And Obama, with his sing-song speeches that point out supposed problems and yet never seem to offer any concrete solutions of any kind, he's a bullshitter.

Yes, it's true. And the worst part is, he's not even that good at it. I've seen better many times over. But he's black, you see, or half-black. And he talks extremely white. And he wears a massively expensive suit. Women just eat that shit up. So every time he cat-walks up onstage to bullshit an audience with a very white voice, the women are all swooning and soaking their panties before he even opens his mouth. And when he speaks, saying absolutely nothing, they swoon over his deep voice and the melodic way he bounces his words around.

I realize that his hand-picked opponent, John McCain, was his exact opposite, a poor speaker with zero charisma and a penchant for lousy, cheap suits. I know that in an Oprah Winfrey Nation like America has become, there was no way in hell that a faded old flag-waver like John McCain was ever going to beat a Southern Baptist televangelist like Barack Obama. It didn't make one bit of difference what either of them actually said in their speeches. It didn't make one bit of difference if one of them is tied to hate groups who promote racism. In fact, it wouldn't have made any difference if Obama had punched his wife dead in the face on national television and told her to get in the kitchen and bake him some pie. The women would still swoon over him and vote for him in record numbers. And somehow his punching of his wife would be twisted around and spun in such a way as to portray it as manly and macho and good. You know it would.

Just like it did when Paula Jones filed suit against President Bill Clinton for sexual harassment and all the feminist hate groups suddenly didn't have a problem with blatant sexual harassment. No, they defended him and said they LOVE a good sexual harassment.

Still, all these people talking about how 'historic' this particular inaguration is just makes me wonder if everyone has forgotten that Bill Clinton was already decreed the "first black president" by the black political lobby some 8 years ago. You can't take that back. What's done is done. Clinton was the first black president. Obama is just the first president with a black wife.

Get in the kitchen and bake me some pie!

Jennifer Lopez and her husband, Whatshisface, are apparently having huge fights. According to the grocery store tabloids, they are getting physical now.

Wasn't Jennifer Lopez in some misandric film where her ex-husband stalked her and abused her so she studied Krav Maga and murdered him? So what's the problem here? Clearly she's not in any danger. If anyone is, it's him. He has no chance in a fight against her, plus not having any legal rights or protections either. He's doubly screwed. If she's beating him, no matter what he does or doesn't do, he's going to prison for it. So there really isn't much to say about this, is there? Is there just so little going on, what with the world in a gigantic financial crisis and the governor of Illinois being impeached and all, that there is nothing better to talk about? Really? J Lo?

Who cares?

Madonna and Guy Ritchie divorce turns ug ... ZZZZZ. Oh sorry, did I doze off? I guess it's because I DON'T CARE.

Sean Penn makes film about gay political activist named Harvey Milk. The film is guaranteed to win tons of awards for being so uber politically correct, and yet not be seen by anyone because it's not about anything that anyone really wants to see, much like most of the movies coming out of Hollywood these days.

Israel is fighting with Hezbolla in Gaza and people are dying.

Really? Doesn't this shit happen like every other day? Why are we suddenly going gung ho against Israel for shooting at terrorists when this shit is happening all the time? Is there nothing else? No financial crisis sweeping the globe? No "first half-black president with hugely expensive inauguration" or anything? I can't even try to care here.

Holy Mother of God!

A fashion designer in Chile has dressed up some of his models as the Virgin Mary. Some of his models are not wearing a lot of clothes and some of them have some serious tits. So Catholics are upset. I understand that if someone attacks your faith you have a right and even an obligation to be offended, but I don't see what the offense is here. How do we know if Mary was busty or not? She might have been stacked like a brick shithouse. Granted, history indicates she was probably between 12 and 14 years of age at the time Jesus was born, but even so, there have been cases of girls younger than that developing bodies that would make Hugh Hefner blush. It's possible. What's all the hubub, bub?

Russia cuts off flow of natural gas to Ukraine and Europe, accusing the Ukraine of ... blah blah blah. Who gives a shit what Russia accuses the Ukraine of doing? You know it's bullshit because it came from Russia. Remember Russia? They're the same country that tried to murder the president of Ukraine by poisoning him. He still has the scarred face to prove it. Any time Russia fucks with anyone they always follow up their attacks with a lot of accusations. It's the standard behavior of a sociopath. To me, all their accusations are just like a distant barking dog. I might shoot him or I might just roll over and go back to sleep.

Yes, yes, I know. Somewhere in all of this is something that you do care about. And you probably think that I should, too. But I just don't. I can't. I don't know how to explain why. I just don't. It's after midnight, it's Monday, and I've been sick all weekend. I don't care about much of any of the shit I'm seeing in the news lately. The shit I care about is mostly not being reported or talked about with any real attempt to make it clear. The shit I care about is being quickly hidden behind a giant inauguration, a bunch of misdirection, and a quick as lightning impeachment. Oh, and there's a stolen election in Minnesota affecting the U.S. Senate to talk about, too, but you won't be hearing about it. Nope. I mean, how could that possibly matter?

Mister Soros bought me a Senate seat!

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Australia Offers Ultimate Job

SYDNEY (AFP) – An Australian state has launched a global search for candidates for "the best job in the world" -- earning a top salary for lazing around a beautiful tropical island for six months.

The job pays 150,000 Australian dollars (105,000 US dollars) and includes free airfares from the successful applicant's home country to Hamilton Island on the Great Barrier Reef, Queensland's state government announced on Tuesday.

In return, the "island caretaker" will be expected to stroll the white sands, soak up the sun, snorkel the reef, "maybe clean the pool" -- and report to a global audience via weekly blogs, photo diaries and video updates.

The winner, who will stay rent-free in a multi-million dollar three-bedroom beach home complete with plunge pool and golf buggy, must be an excellent communicator and be able to speak and write English.

"They'll also have to talk to media from time to time about what they're doing so they can't be too shy and they'll have to love the sea, the sun, the outdoors," said acting state Premier Paul Lucas.

"The fact that they will be paid to explore the islands of the Great Barrier Reef, swim, snorkel and generally live the Queensland lifestyle makes this undoubtedly the best job in the world."

Lucas said the campaign was part of a drive to protect the state's 18 billion Australian dollar a year tourism industry during the tough economic climate caused by the global financial meltdown.

While the campaign has elements of some reality television shows, a candidate's looks will not be a prime requirement, Tourism Queensland chief executive Anthony Hayes told AFP.

"No, I don't think beautiful is what we want, I think charismatic is what we want," he said. "The reality is we are looking for a fantastic communicator.

"What we want this person to do is travel throughout the Great Barrier Reef and just try every experience, every adventure they can find and report back via blogs and video to tell the world why Queensland is a great place to come for a holiday."

Tourism Minister Desley Boyle said some people might question whether it was risky to let an unknown person become an unofficial tourism spokesperson for the state.

"I think the biggest risk will be that the successful candidate won't want to go home at the end of the six months," she said.

"This is a legitimate job which is open to anyone and everyone."

Applications are open until February 22. Eleven shortlisted candidates will be flown to Hamilton Island in early May for the final selection process and the six month contract will commence on July 1.

Job-seekers can apply on Islandreefjob.com

I have been trying all morning to get this URL to open. You know I'm applying for this job! And never going home again if I get it.

Demand for "best job in the world" crashes website

Wed Jan 14, 11:34 am ET Reuters – Islandreefjob.com is show in this screengrab taken January 14, 2009. (Islandreefjob.com/Reuters) SYDNEY (Reuters) – The chance to be the caretaker of a tiny tropical island in Australia has sparked so much interest around the world that a rush of applications crashed the website advertising the post.

The job, which offers a salary of $105,000 to spend six months on the Great Barrier Reef island of Hamilton, has been inundated with hundreds of thousands of prospective candidates.

An official from the state of Queensland, which is offering the position, said the job was created as an antidote to the global economic slump and was being advertised in 18 countries including the United States and China.

Local media said technicians had to restore the website (www.islandreefjob.com) after it could not cope with the volume of interest and crashed for several hours. Some sections are still not up and running.

Duties for the so-called "best job in the world" include feeding ocean fish, cleaning a pool and collecting deliveries of mail that arrive by plane.

The successful candidate will have to go scuba diving, snorkeling and hiking and enjoy at least 25 nearby island resorts. Thrown in is a luxury three-bedroom home and transportation to and from the island.

No skills, nor experience is needed, and there is no age requirement. The job starts in July.

(Writing by Miral Fahmy, editing by Dean Yates)
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What I Learned from Watching CBS

Sumner Redstone with a woman he must be beating because he's a white male

I spent an evening seeing the world through the eyes of Sumner Redstone, psychotic sociopath and head over all of CBS and Viacom, as well as his faithful lackey, Les Moonves.

First of all, all women in prison are tough, but noble. And of course they are actually innocent victims of

A) their ex-boyfriends who beat them and so had to be killed in self-defense by the poor defenseless biatches


B) the guards who rape them AND their cute daughters who are in high school and were as pure as the driven snow before the evil white male guard forced her to take heroin and then raped her on webcam while the other guards watched, sort of like the famous scene from "American Pie", only with dramatic music.

Even the coldest of female serial killers actually has a heart of solid gold and will give her own life so that the real killer, who is of course "the real victim" of the evil rapist guard who corrupted her daughter, can escape justice.

There is actually no such thing as a female sociopath, narcissist, or psycho. Only white males can possess any of those flaws.

Les Moonves and the woman he pounds

The next thing I learned is that in the state of Florida, when a woman steals a man's car and smashes it up, even trying to run over him after assaulting him, she is actually "the real victim".

The man, who says he just wants his car back and doesn't want to press charges, will of course be charged with

... wait for it ....

domestic violence.

This is because, as we all have been told, there is an epidemic of violence against women. We know this because a feminist wrote a book in the early '70s claiming that there was. And as we all know, feminists never lie. And also, because the idea of evil men in black hats tying innocent heterosexual virgins to railroad tracks makes a much more sympathetic story than the psycho woman in the black nightgown who shoots her husband in the back while he's sleeping because she doesn't want him to find out that she's been stealing thousands of dollars from the bank and has just found out that the bank found out and is threatening to prosecute her. But enough about Mary Winkler.

Now getting back to this horrific and typical case of violence against women, because the man allegedly threw a bottle at his own car as it was being stolen, he is charged with felony assault with a deadly weapon. Yes, a DEADLY WEAPON. Shooting a man in the genitals and sexually torturing him to death with a Taser is not a crime of any kind, despite federal law specifically prohibiting the application of electric shock to the genitals by anyone including law enforcement, but throwing a bottle, by God, is a FELONY.

Dude, Skynard RAWKS!

Yesiree BOB.

After the man whose car was stolen and who foolishly called the police in the futile hope that he might get some justice has been arrested and charged with domestic violence as well as a felony bottle throwing weapons charge, the woman who is supposed to be "the real victim", will be informed that she has no say in any of the charges against the man. The state of Florida is filing those charges for reasons which only make sense when you know how many TEN$ of BILLION$ of dollar$ are pumped into the federal feminist domestic violence racket and filtered down to the individual states as an incentive to play along with the War On Males.

So, the state is pressing the charges, and the woman who is supposed to be the victim has absolutely no say whatsoever because apparently feminists in Washington decided that women can't be trusted to make their own decisions. And also because of all the money involved. Mostly just because of the money.

A typical male according to The Law

This is where the inherent problems of such extreme perversion of justice begin to hit home for the woman.

At this point, after informing the woman who stole the man's car that she has no say in the charges of domestic violence against him, they add that because there are literally tens of billions of dollars to be had in America's War on Males as long as everyone plays along, if for any reason she doesn't show up to court and testify against the man she attacked and robbed, and if she doesn't say exactly what she is told to say by the prosecutor, the court will swear out a warrant for her arrest, too.

Then both she and Mr. Sacrificial Lamb will be thrown into the very same jail and completely bankrupted in their futile attempts to declare their innocence before a court set up specifically to convict every male accused of any alleged crime involving a woman and any woman who refuses to play along.

Oh, and also there will be no jury. Juries sometimes mess things up and with this kind of money on the line we just can't risk that.

So, she won't be arrested or charged for assaulting the man, for stealing the man's car, or for trying to run over the man with his car, but if she refuses to swear in court that he abused her, called her fat, refused to place his coat over a puddle for her to walk on, smiled inappropriately at her, etc, then and only then will she be charged with a crime and they will come down on her like a ton of Barbie pink bricks.

With friends like The Government I don't need no fucking enemies

danger police

So, to recap:

All women in prison have hearts of gold.

All women in prison are actually victims of evil men who abused them.

All women who steal cars and try to run over the men who own those cars are actually victims of domestic violence by the men they just beat on and robbed.

All men who live with women are beating them.

All white men who are prison guards are raping the women who shouldn't be in prison in the first place because they are actually the victims of horrible men.

Any man who is a victim of a crime committed by a woman is an idiot if he calls the police.

Thank God for CBS. Of not for them I would never have known how wonderful women in prison are, or how tragic life is for women who steal cars.

I wonder what I would have learned if I had flipped over to one of the other networks and watched something else instead? Before I turned off the TV I saw on one channel how they manufacture fire extinguishers. After a night with CBS I'm sort of wishing I had just watched that instead.

And now, a little music for your entertainment ...

You have read this article feminism / injustice / law / misandry with the title January 2009. You can bookmark this page URL http://thebohemianbunny.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-i-learned-from-watching-cbs.html. Thanks!

We are in trouble!

We are in trouble...

The population of this country is 300 million.

160 million are retired.

That leaves 140 million to do the work.

There are 85 million in school.

Which leaves 55 million to do the work.

Of this there are 35 million employed by the federal government.

Leaving 15 million to do the work.

2.8 million are in the armed forces preoccupied with killing Osama

Which leaves 12.2 million to do the work.

Take from that total the 10.8 million people who work for state and city
Governments. And that leaves 1.4 million to do the work.

At any given time there are 188,000 people in hospitals.

Leaving 1,212,000 to do the work.

Now, there are 1,211,998 people in prisons.

That leaves just two people to do the work.

You and me.

And there you are,

Sitting on your ass,

At your computer, reading jokes.

Nice. Real nice.

You have read this article humor with the title January 2009. You can bookmark this page URL http://thebohemianbunny.blogspot.com/2009/01/we-are-in-trouble.html. Thanks!

The Robot

John was a salesman's delight when it came to any kind of unusual gimmick. His wife Marsha had long ago given up trying to get him to change. One day John came home with another one of his unusual purchases. It was a robot that John claimed was actually a lie detector.

It was about 5:30 that afternoon when Tommy, their 11 year old son, returned home from school. Tommy was over 2 hours late.

'Where have you been? Why are you over 2 hours late getting home?' asked John.

'Several of us went to the library to work on an extra credit project,' said Tommy.

The robot then walked around the table and slapped Tommy, knocking him completely out of his chair.

'Son,' said John, 'this robot is a lie detector, now tell us where you really were after school.'

'We went to Bobby's house and watched a movie.' said Tommy.

'What did you watch?' asked Marsha.

'The Ten Commandments.' answered Tommy.

The robot went around to Tommy and once again slapped him, knocking him off his chair once more.

With his lip quivering, Tommy got up, sat down and said, 'I am sorry I lied. We really watched a tape called Sex Queen.'

'I am ashamed of you son,' said John. 'When I was your age, I never lied to my parents.'

The robot then walked around to John and delivered a whack that nearly knocked him out of his chair.

Marsha doubled over in laughter, almost in tears and said, 'Boy, did you ever ask for that one! You can't be too mad with Tommy. After all, he is your son!'

With that the robot immediately walked around to Marsha and knocked her out of her chair . . .

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The Polls Are Now Closed

2008 began with Britney Spears roaring into the lead in the annual Biggest Skank Ho competition. She had been in he running year after year and seemed a sure thing for 2008. She shaved her head, jousted with an SUV using her umbrella, and then of course there was that horrible Chris Crocker "Leave Britney alone!" video on YouTube. Perhaps I'm mixing several years worth of skank hoing into one? It's hard to keep it all straight sometimes because there has just been so much of it.

But while all of this has been going on, across the pond in the once-glorious UK, now greatly diminished by Labour and politically correct socialism, there lives an even bigger disaster. She doesn't have the advantage of having been a mouseketeer under the New Disney skank regime, but nevertheless, she has managed to climb the Mt Olympus of addiction, drama, and embarrassing photos. Her name is Amy Winehouse.

Britney was easily leading the competition for most of 2008, but as she straightened up her life, Amy continued wrecking hers. Amy has easily earned this title. So let's raise our glasses and toast Miss Amy Winehouse, Biggest Skank Ho of 2008.

It's clear from the results of this poll that the vast majority of us bloggers consider ourselves to be on the edge of a violent murderous rampage of rage and frustration. A whopping 44 percent of you say you blog because it allows you an outlet which prevents you from going insane and killing people. I concur. Let's all keep on blogging well into 2009 so that the killing can be avoided.

Coming in a close 2nd was the admission that we blog to quiet the voices in our crazy heads. Apparently a substantial number of bloggers are comletely insane. These are probably the writers of the most popular blogs on the internet.

And now we get to the most important poll of all, the one about me. Yes, let's talk about me. Isn't pure narcissism what blogging is really all about? What do you think of me? 21 percent of you have figured out that I'm a man who loves women. A lot. Maybe too much. Some of you may even worry that I'm hiding outside your window with a video camera watching you undress. Perhaps I would if only I knew where you lived. Alas, I don't. Would you mind emailing me your information? It would make this whole stalking thing so much easier.

19 percent of you believe me to be emotionally unstable, yet entertaining in a train wreck sort of way. Much like the Beavises and Buttheads of the world enjoy watching endless home videos of men, boys, and in some cases babies being sexually assaulted by animals, castrated in horrible accidents, or violently violated by angry school girls, many of you seem to enjoy the endless rantings and disasters that make up my daily life. Perhaps I'm a bit like Al Franken, crazy and ineffectual, yet humorous enough to be memorable and one day even shoved into the U.S. Senate through a blatantly rigged election? I can only hope.

15 percent of you have figured out that I'm not particularly fond of Memphis. You're quite perceptive. There's plenty of hookers and alcohol here, but perhaps I haven't made sufficient use of them because I'm really not very happy in Memphis.

Finally, 11 percent of you have detected that I have frequent issues from my ass. This is true. I should probably eat less Mexican food. Perhaps I'd be more popular with the ladies if I weren't so gassy?

You have read this article poll results with the title January 2009. You can bookmark this page URL http://thebohemianbunny.blogspot.com/2009/01/the-polls-are-now-closed.html. Thanks!
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