I Keel Yew

Over the course of history, people have used the names of various deities, leaders and/or celebrities as an excuse for doing evil shit that they already wanted to do anyway. The following is a list of the top 5 names people have given as an excuse for their evil deeds:

1) Karl Marx - you wouldn't think that the world would be so heavily rocked with mass murder and general oppression done in the name of a dude named "Karl", but the fact is, this is indeed what has happened. Over the past 100 plus years more people have been murdered, raped, tortured, beaten, robbed and generally enslaved in the name of the beliefs of Karl Marx than any other being. This is partly due to population increases which have made mass killings far worse in recent history than was even possible in the past. I'd list the details and math explaining this, but I don't feel like it, so go look it up yourself, you lazy bastards.

2) Allah - his name sounds like Alan Alda, but it is, in fact, not the same guy. Allah is the god of the Muslim world. A man said to be a prophet of Allah, named Mohamed, declared that it is the obligation of all good Muslims to kill anyone who does not believe in Allah and follow Islam. Thus, over 1000 years ago a mass killing began in which the religion of Islam spread throughout the East through conquest and mass murder. This mass killings in the name of Islam continued for over 1000 years. Europe itself was nearly conquered and all of Christianity nearly wiped out by the murdering crusades of the Muslims.

3) God/Jehovah - self-loathing and xenophobic Western atheists like to claim that more people have been killed in the name of God than any other, but that is incorrect. God only comes in third, and then only barely so. Aside from the Crusades, very few wars have had much of anything to do with Jehovah God (or Jesus) and most of those were very limited in scope and population of people involved. Even when you add in Jewish killings listed in the Old Testament of the Bible it doesn't add up to much. There simply weren't that many people around to kill back then. Today, Western governments don't kill in the name of God. They kill in the name of the investments and interests of various rich people behind the scenes whom we never see and rarely hear about except in conspiracy theories mumbled in bars.

4) Oprah - Mary Winkler, Aileen Wurnos, Andrea Yates, Amy Bishop, Bambi Bembenek, the list of female killers goes on and on. Other than being female, all of the most infamous female killers of the late 20th century and early 21st century had one thing in common: they loved Oprah. They may not have shouted "Oprah be praised" as they committed their atrocities, but it was the madness she drove them to with her insanely stupid show that is believed to be behind their transformation into spotlight-seeking, bloodthirsty monsters.

5) The ShamWow Guy - hour after hour, day in and day out, this sinister figure appears on TV screen after TV screen, shouting and screaming about the ShamWow and his nuts. On the surface, he seems harmless, if not extremely annoying. But psychologists say there is a deeply hidden hostility in his voice that resonates with other damaged people, setting them off like time bombs, leading them to buy the indestructible ShamWow and use it as a garrote for strangling people to death. The ShamWow murder spree is not openly discussed in the media, but police and the Justice Department have been working feverishly to get these ads off the air and track down every single person who has ever purchased a ShamWow. Many of them have been found at mass murder scenes in Mexico, leading the Mexican government to demand that the US government do more to prevent the flow of ShamWows across the border into Mexico where it may fall into the hands of drug gangs.


And now, something to make you want to tear your own eyes and ears out, the latest mass murder inspiration, Luke of New Zealand and his Disasteradio:

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Blog Fail

Twitter Fail
I've been trying to Twitter lately. It was fun at first, I guess. A few bloggers appeared out there. I 'followed' a few, most of whom did not follow me back. Yes, it pissed me off. Still, I followed them and they didn't say much. I did the Twitter thing and had my usual more-than-you-wanted-to-know to say. I made a few friends. It's hard to be really good friends in 140 characters or less. But after awhile Twitter really wore on my nerves.

First of all, Twitter's website grabs my CPU by the balls and just squeezes until my computer is crying and vomiting and eventually passes out. I don't much appreciate this. I don't need a 'casual' website for socializing that does this to me while I'm trying to do other things in the meantime. It's hard to get anything done when my browser is wheezing and screaming and won't let my computer take a breath.

Secondly, lately when I go to type anything, I type my 140 characters and am completely done with my thought, but the cursor on the screen hasn't moved at all. It doesn't show anything I've just written for about 10 minutes. Then suddenly it throws it all up there at once. Heaven forbid that I have any misspellings because going back and fixing it is a major pain in the ass.

Lastly, I'm pretty sure 99 percent of the people on Twitter are some sort of HR person or 'consultant' looking to either hire people away from other companies or sell something. This is not my idea of entertainment. I'd rather read smart-assed commentary on someone's blog and leave an equally smart-assed comment after the fact than to wade through the flood of salesmen and HR people out there. Personally I find the idea of using my best jokes on HR to be somehow ... I don't know ... wrong. HR is who fires you for emailing a really good joke. Why send it directly to them? And why are they on Twitter all day, anyway? Doesn't HR have something else to do, like, say, monitoring our emails?

And as an afterthought, who the fuck is Guy Kawasaki and why should I care what he has to say? He's like the king of Twitter or something. I guess that'd make him a twing? Either way, I don't follow him, but apparently everyone else does. He's like Twitter's version of Dooce. I don't follow Dooce, either.

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Three gay guys were sitting in a hottub.

Suddenly a large wad of semen floats to the surface.

One of the gay guys looks digusted and says, "alright, who farted?"

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Relationship Fail
Seriously, who doesn't look at this photo and think, "that dude is CREEPY"? Looking at this I'm thinking everyone should have known he was going to go bonko at some point. And the thing is, he looks like this in every photo I've seen of him. I wouldn't expect any decent-looking girl to be with him. Even ugly girls must look at this face and think, "where is my pepper spray?"

I had actually intended to write more about Chris "basher" Brown and Rihanna "mostly white" Fenty, but then I realized that I didn't care enough about these two Mouseketeers to bother. I can't get the image out of my head of them having a Three Stooges style slap fight in an Italian sports car with lots of screaming and "cut-it-out" before he finally makes a fist and throws a few awkward punches. Somehow it just brings to mind old family vacations with my older brother and three sisters. I'm sorry, but her injuries were minor compared to some I've experienced growing up in an age before the police raided people's homes every time a brother and sister slapped each other. The meanest person in my family was one of my older sisters. She would have torn Chris Brown up inside that car. I'm guessing that the only thing holding Rihanna back from winning the fight was the fact that she was in the passenger seat, which is on the right side of the car, and she's probably right-handed. I'll bet if they had switched seats she could have taken him.

---

A little boy goes to his mother and asks, "Mom, where do babies come from?"

The mother says, "a stork brings it."

The boys says, "Yeah, then who fucks the stork?"

---

Sympathy Fail
Apparently last week on Oprah, which I never watch, all she talked about was domestic violence. Well, not exactly 'domestic violence'. Actually, all she talked about was women who were treated badly by men. She totally ignored Matthew Winkler or Phil Hartman, two men famous for having been murdered in cold blood by their psychopathic, abusive wives. Apparently it isn't important when men are abused.

Also appearing on Priestess Oprah's Worship Hour was Tyra Banks, who has never been beaten by anyone, but wanted desperately to join in the conversation. So Tyra went on and on and on about how she once dated a guy who made her feel bad about herself. He never laid a hand on her, but he didn't talk nice to her sometimes. And as we all know, in the new feminized America, anything a man says is equated with an actual fist to the face or shotgun blast to the back because, well, sometimes women who weren't abused feel left out when women who were talk about their experiences. So we have to pretend that words are the same as actual physical injuries in order to make all feel welcomed.

Well, not all. Just women. No men are allowed in the 'Victim Class' that Oprah loves so much and which pays big, big money. Not Phil Hartman. Not Matthew Winkler. No men at all. Not even little boys who were raped by their very odd female teachers or gay Catholic Priests.

Not that I'm saying that emotional abuse isn't hurtful or harmful. It's just that it isn't by any stretch of the imagination the same as a vicious physical beating from the one you love.

You know, my dad used to tell me about a time long, long ago, when words were just words and people who constantly put others down in order to make themselves feel bigger and better were simply called "cunts", instead of the more politically charged "abusers". It's ironic, really, because by Oprah's standards my dad abused the shit out of me, but mostly only with words. So did my mom. So I guess I should be allowed to be on her show alongside Tyra, whose breasts are real, as she demonstrated repeatedly on her own show, which I also don't watch.

Still, one thing remains true even after all of this. Chris Brown is still a tool.

---

What do you get when you cross a genius with a hooker?

A fucking know-it-all

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Memphis Monday

God smiling

It's Monday morning and I really don't have much to say. Last night I spent most of my time laying on the bed with a headache from hell, trying not to throw up. I felt like my left eye was going to explode. I had the fascinating experience of discovered that if you lay an ice pack across your eye until it's frozen, and then roll your eye around in your head, you can feel the cold moving in there. Whee, that was fun.

While I was doing this, My Wife was watching the one hundred millionth rerun of Perry Mason. It was the episode where a very '80s writer throws his secretary off the roof of a building and makes everyone think it was he who died. But the secretary yelled his name, "Daaaaaaavid" as he fell. So that blew the whole thing. Dang it!

Saturday night, The Wife and I went up to Millington, the land where Justin Timberlake grew up and everyone wears gay grandpa hats just like his, for a big get-together. I met a Memphis trial attorney. I asked, "is it my imagination, or does every guilty son-of-a-bitch, or in the case of Mary Winkler, bitch, hire Leslie Ballin? Even Memphis cops know that if they're caught red-handed in something, they need to call this guy."

The answer was, "if you're a murderer, you need to call Leslie Ballin or Steve Farese. Those are the two best at getting people off for serious crimes like that."

Ah, and Mary Winkler had both, bought and paid for by some mysterious Memphis millionaire, possibly named Gail Rose, not that anyone has mentioned her name in association with this miscarriage of justice before now or anything. It's all just pure speculation from a naked Memphis man on a toilet by the roadside. And it could very easily be wrong. But it was clearly someone from the Grrlz Club here in town who paid for them, and who stopped paying for them the minute Oprah Winfrey expressed doubts about Mary's innocence.

Apparently having millions of dollars does not free a woman from the powerful influence of Oprah. Who knew?


Grrl Power means I do all your thinking for you

Have you ever had a friend tell you something in an email while they were upset, and then you sort of halfway mentioned it to their best friend, assuming they knew, only to find out that they didn't have a clue what you were talking about? So then you feel relieved that you didn't flat out say it because they apparently didn't understand you, but now you're scared that your friend is going to be really mad at you for kinda, sorta, almost telling their best friend before they had? Yeah? I did that last week, I think. But I'm not sure yet. I'm still holding my breath.

It's raining and I'm tired and feeling blah. The Stock Market has oh so totally fucked me and appears intent upon continue this ass-raping. I was going to sell some big holdings of mine, but My Wife asked me not to because we have so much other financial crap to deal with before we face a bunch of capital gains taxes on top of all that. So there I sit, holding these stocks, and they go way up, making me happy, and then plunge like Courtney Love's neckline, leaving me screaming in frustration. Now the experts are saying "unless you're prepared to ride this out for the long term, jump ship now!" Yeah, shit! Thanks for the info.

I rode out the crash of 1999-2000 and it didn't do me much good. I mean, to this day I cringe whenever I hear the name Steve Case or anything about AOL. What a fucking loser! And I rode his "social justice" dreamship all the way down to the bottom, too. Fucking dickhead. I've still got the scars. And now here I go on another ride down to 20,000 leagues under the sea. So happy. So excited. Gotta dump this once-great turd.

So anyway, I haven't had my coffee. I left my cell phone at home by accident. My stupid cat, who slept on the couch all night even though she knows she isn't allowed up there, was crying at the back door all morning while I ate breakfast. I ignored her. So sorry about the rain, but you have a lovely covered porch with a chimenea and a nice carpeted bed on top of the grill to keep you comfy, so shut the fuck up.

My Oldest Sister called me on Saturday while I was cleaning up in the garage. She wants to know if I want to take a cat home with me on Thanksgiving. It seems My Nephew brought him a partly Main Coone cat, or rather, he petted him and then the cat followed him home. I told her I'd like to see the cat and then decide. So there is a chance that I may be bringing home another male Main Coone to entertain the Little Girl, who despite enjoying being Queen of the Castle, gets lonely and scared being all by herself.

The other night, while I was out in the driveway in the pitch dark for some reason, I saw the next door neighbor's dog come tearing out of their garage, barking his head off. He never charges at me like that, so I thought maybe he'd gone crazy. Then I saw, just for a moment, something about the size of a coyote, running in the darkness head of him. He chased whatever it was into the trees at the back of the property, at which point his shock collar prevents him from going any further. I don't know what it was, but it apparently knows that the dog gets fed in the garage and thus has food in there. I can't think of any other reason for a wild animal to try to go into the neighbor's garage with a large dog waiting to kill him there.

Stacy the Peanut Queen had surgery last Friday. We're all still waiting to hear from her that she's OK. Steph and Kylie had cocktails and wild Aussie fun. We're all still waiting for photos of drunken girlies falling down stairs or pressing their cooter to some passed out guy's face. Marlena is still trying to save her home and provide for her family and it is stressful as hell, but I can't stop thinking about it and worrying.


It's Veteran's Day. And yet I can't think of a single thing to say about that. We all should be grateful to our veterans for the fact that we still have most of our freedom. My Dad narrowly avoided being sent to fight in Korea, ending up instead at West Point, where he graduated as an officer before being sent to Japan to serve 5 years in the Army. And yet, somehow I can't think of anything at all to say. I am just not here today. I think last night's headache just wiped me out.

I guess if I think of something more to say, I'll be back.

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