Saturday, May 24, 2008

What a Gal!



In a previous post (5-10-08, Lie, Steal, Cheat, Kill...or Beg)) astute readers may recall that I doubted the sociopathic Senator Clintons' intentions to scrape for a brand new low in this 08' campaign.

The Lady has forever put my doubts to rest.

In what has got to be the quintessential Hillary Moment the Senator from the Great State of New York actually, truly, seriously invoked the memory of what is certainly one of the most horrible tragedies to befall the Democratic Party, the entire Nation or even the World-at-Large, not to mention the Kennedy Family themselves, as a sound reason for continuing her desperate, and now despicable, run at the Democratic nomination for President of these United States.





So.....let me get this straight Senator.

You're hanging on by your claws, as a grand favor to the American People, just in case your opponent happens to be killed?

You are one Class act M'am!

The Nation salutes you!

In the event that anyone is unclear about the Senator's meaning she hammered her message home with her subsequent non-apology the following day.
She began with "If..."
As in-
"If the Kennedy Family or the voters were offended....blahblahblah.....Then I apologize"

Gee....Ya Think?

What a Gal!

Friday, May 16, 2008

Mr. & Mrs. Emotional Whack-A-Mole, Welcome to the Oprah Winfrey Show


Well, it’s happened. On Thursday a Federal Grand Jury and the L.A. District Attorney Thomas O’Brien indicted the woman behind the alleged MySpace scam that may or may not have led to the suicide of 14 yr. old Megan Meier back in 2006.
I’ve already amply covered the repulsive, redundant and universal idiocy of this malignant affair so I’ll try not to rehash the moronic particulars.

http//everybodylikespizza.blogspot.com/2008/01/thinning-herd.html

Suffice to say that, Yes, I did indeed write Federal Grand Jury!
And I guess good Ole Tommy O’Brien is gonna get to the bottom of this one and make the world safe and secure for hyper-emotional teenage beanbags everywhere by prosecuting everyone who ever sends unkind messages to anyone on the Internets, EVER!
After that he’s gonna cure Cancer then solve that pesky AIDS problem.
All brought to you taxpayers, of course, by the same Office that handled that OJ deal so expertly.
I may be whistling Dixie here but I’m going to guess that there just might, possibly, maybe, could be one or two other tiny little cases that require the District Attorney’s priority attention in Los Angeles before he tackles the scourge of Cyber-Meanness and thus puts an end to Teen Suicide in Missouri forever but, apparently, this circus of circle-jerking grief will continue nonetheless.
If you have the time and really enjoy peering through the Legal Lookingglass take a few minutes and read the “Overt Acts” section of the Federal Indictment. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

http://i.cdn.turner.com/cnn/2008/images/05/15/my.space.drew.indictment.pdf

In another astounding bit of hysterical lunacy over 85% of those polled believed prosecution was in order and appropriate. I 100% hope that I never meet that 85%.

Should the Prosecution win, however, I believe I have the ideal punishment to fit the crime.

Chain her to her PC and force her to log on to MySpace, Facebook, Friendster, etc. etc. etc. for 12 hours a day responding to each and every single “friend” request she receives for an entire year.
If she ever comes near a computer again after that she’s a better man than me!

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Our Own "Born" Identity (continued)


So the deal was struck.

We set the date (my only official day off) and the time then hammered out the plan. We would take the train together, she helping me with directions/language etc., then I would ride my junker back solo. It all seemed quite sensible. Logical, even.

It may shock no one but on the evening previous to the date (my only Holiday I would like to remind one and all) I imbibed a mythic amount of sophisticated Adult beverages before repairing to my slumber. Needless to say, I was in something akin to less-than-perfect condition the following morning…..well……..actually…………early afternoon.

The plain fact is that I was paralyzed, almost comatose, just barely capable of basic motor function and absolutely stripped of any ability to operate at a recognizably Human level. Eat, drink, piss, shit, this was about all I could manage. If the building were to catch fire I would have never made it out alive.

The Wife was eerily calm.

Breakfast was served, coffee followed and I accomplished these tasks heroically, I thought. I was becoming quite proud of myself. She, however, did not appear to be impressed by my agonizing recovery from wanton self-destruction. After my second cup she spoke.

“So let’s leave in an hour and that should give us plenty of time…….OK?”

I regarded her as a novice climber might regard Mt. Everest looking up from the bottom.

“Yea………….you know………………fuck that.”

Let it not be said that at crucial moments I lack eloquence.

The Storm began to build. At first she gently urged then softly requested then sincerely implored then desperately demanded and finally furiously commanded me to live up to our deal and make good on my promise as I sat there and vegetated over my caffeine. I needed to crawl back under the covers and hide from all that Life might offer, she was working herself into a frenzy of energy and determination. That bike would be hers and no Man or God would stop her. I was harnessing all the power and mobility of a stone dead battery so, suffice to say, we were somewhat at odds.

Names were called, epithets exchanged, curses shared.

Finally she called the play.

“FUCK YOU……If you don’t get up right now then I’m going to get that bike by myself and you can GO TO HELL!”

She grabbed her keys and made for the door.

She was holding a Full House- Aces over Kings. I had a handful of garbage. I folded.

I have a minor skill of which I am inordinately proud. It is my standing boast that I can get showered, flossed, brushed and dressed, making myself presentable to the World-at-Large and ready for photo opportunities, under any conditions in 5 minutes or less.
As she stormed towards the door I put that skill to good use.

My point is this.

Had any Man called my bluff I would’ve certainly laughed in his face as he hit the door. Were Force used I would’ve been happy, if not quite able, to answer with equal or greater Force.
There was nothing I wanted, nowhere I wanted to go and nobody who could’ve made me anyway.

But when She called me out………

“Then figure it out then.”

Women have a strength that calls us to action as no other can. Politicians, Presidents, Bosses, Bullies, enemies, friends or neighbors, they can all spit into the wind but her words show me where to place my feet and raise my fists.

Her words say.

Get in the Game, Man……’cuz we need you!

And, of course, as is so often the case in these matters, it turned out to be a beautiful day.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

'Cuz it's Monday.....That's why!

And this week I'm taking No Prisoners.



I humbly urge you to do the same.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Lie, Steal, Cheat and Kill.......or Beg


I doubt if this represents a new low in the game we call Politics but, I'll be Damned, Hillary and her Camp did indeed stun me with this one! Astute readers have doubtless already heard but the Wicked Witch of the West just yesterday fired off a personal letter to Senator Obama asking him to join her in righting what she perceives to be a grievous wrong.
It may be shocking to some but this aid she seeks (from the opponent that she's been viciously clipping for weeks now) may be to her benefit and hers alone.

Check out a glimpse into the mind of a privileged liberal sociopath who may just believe that the World(or at least the USA) owes her something.

www.huffingtonpost.com
(The Huffington Post: Hillary's Hastily Penned Open Letter to Obama)

I'll bypass the cheap shots at her spelling errors and the greasily desperate tone of her language and leave it at this- Men often complain that Women not only don't play by the Rules but that they live their lives completely absent of any acknowledgement of said Rules and with almost no restrictions on their Public or Private behavior.

I wonder why.

There is one thing, however, I have to admit after reading Senator Clinton's letter.

She's got some pretty big balls.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Our Own "Born" Identity


One of the many reasons I love to huddle in the darkness and watch movies is for that tiny revelatory moment when your/our humanity shines like a brilliant beacon from someplace on high illuminating even our most mundane moments and allowing us all to remember what we are, once were or might someday become.
And of course sometimes I just like to watch shit blow up real good but…..

I recently, for the 2nd time, re-viewed “The Bourne Identity” and was struck anew by that thrilling bolt of lightening from the blue. A small exchange at a very complicated moment in the story, a very simple conversation between Bourne and his-not-yet-GF Marie, reminded me very clearly of one of the more important reasons I love Women and the many things they do.

But first some personal background.
It would be more than fair to state that during my 3 Adult decades on the planet I’ve been accused, almost exclusively by wonderful, intelligent woman, of being either sexist or sex-obsessed.
In response I would like to plead Nolo contendere.

Sexist?
Of course I am! I am, after all is said and done and through no conscience decision and very little fault of my own, a man. This means that a major portion of my arsenal in this Jungle we live in is my ability to instantly identify and assess people based on their gender but, please understand, because there are only two (you know, strictly speaking) I can’t and won’t claim any great pride in this skill although it does come in awfully handy during Mating Season. I don’t, however, judge based on gender because that might get in the way of getting the job done.
If you can play, welcome to the team.
If you can’t, adios.

Sex-obsessed?
Seriously? Ladies, the filing of these types of charges is exactly what has us all chasing our collective, horny tails while adding to the garbage heap of frustration that is Adulthood instead of fulfilling our, at last, obtainable fantasies while simultaneously spreading love, joy and peaceful satisfaction on our one-way rocket ride to the end of this too short journey.
Sex is spiritual food, a cosmic life affirmation, a physical recharge of the old batteries and a cleansing flush of our muddy oil if you’re doing it right and, if you’re doing it wrong, it’s just wild damn fun and a nice workout before you hit the sack, at least for Us.
And
That
Is
Why
All Men are obsessed with sex!

And the lack of sex? Probably behind every bad decision ever made in the History of Mankind and I do mean Mankind! Every High Crime, low misdemeanor, embarrassing indiscretion and case of just plain poor judgment can most likely be traced to the fact that He was bitterly flogging his dolphin last night (or for the last 60 nights) instead of tucking his starving body into the warm, inviting feast that is You.
The Male equation is simple-

More love= Sound Thinking, Good Intentions and Righteous Actions
Less Love= Bad Judgment, Poor Decisions and Malignant Results.

If women are sexual camels (a bare minimum can be stored and used for a long time with no ill effect to the owner) then men are certainly sexual sharks (we have to constantly keep swimming forward or we die)! I feel no need to belabor a point I think I’ve reviewed in the past and this is strictly Adult Relations 101 but Girls-
Accusing a man of being obsessed with sex is like accusing him of being tall or short or hungry. Our/My response?
“yea…..And?”

But today I’m working a level quite separate from S-E-X (I remain capable of these occasionally Superhuman feats of concentration) as I try to examine my other compulsions, my other than puerile admiration of the Fairer Sex being chief among these.
And so…
back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Bourne and Marie have barely survived a harrowing, violent car chase and very narrowly escaped the Lawdogs who are doubtless still in pursuit and more feverish than ever for their capture. Bourne has amnesia and has no idea who he is or why people are chasing him. The couple have spent only a short time together, perhaps 36 hrs, but Marie has been giving him the Look while he isn’t looking. They’re in an underground parking lot, momentarily safe, when Bourne calls the play. It’s time they split up.
He’s given her the money and firmly believes she will be safer alone.
Marie has other thoughts.

Bourne, adrenalin pumping, deeply confused, almost hysterical, back-to-the-wall and desperate for a way out yells at her,
“Marie, I don’t know who I am, I don’t know why they’re chasing me, I don’t know what to do………….I’VE GOT TO FIGURE THIS OUT!”

Marie, calm and quite suddenly very collected regards him. She coolly measures him and comes to her own decision as she softly tells him the only thing he needs to hear but is too afraid to even think.

“Then figure it out.”

Her implication is hard, fast and crystal clear. Figure it out you idiot because I’m dying to make love to you and be Your Woman and I’m not gonna have anything get in the way of that so don’t you dare turn into some kind of Candyass on me now!

Bourne, sensing her resolve and feeling her feeling, calms down, catches his breath, regroups his cool and immediately jumps back into Asskicking mode.
Later that night she makes good on her promise and throws the Love all over him so maybe he could’ve done it without her but why would you want to anyway?

And it’s exactly that feeling of Feminine Strength and calm in that Masculine storm of anger and confusion….
That taste of cold steel inside that sweet soft package…..
That faithful promise that everything, or maybe nothing, will be alright if you just ACT LIKE A MAN!

This is what makes me love them now and always.

In moments of stress I can easily, frighteningly easily, devolve into a violent, panicky, senseless, stupid animal futilely banging his head against his own cage unless or until……..

Those hard words come from that loving, generous gift of beauty and all things good.

“Come back with your shield…or on it.”

Recently around these parts we had our own mini-crisis. My bike (as in bicycle, YES, I'm a grown man and I ride a bcycle, OK? it ain't easy being Green) got jacked by the Kyoto City Parking Pirates, not a terribly uncommon occurrence among residents here unfortunately but, because I ride damn near everyday for Business not Pleasure and as my wheels were neither expensive nor of any great sentimental value, I had a somewhat sticky decision to make.

1.) Spend the day taking the train to another train to a long lonely walk to the pound where I would fork over my fine money, retrieve my beat wheels then start the looooooong trek back home. Or…..
2.) Fuck that shit and Kyoto City, let ‘em keep my low-rent junk and go buy a brand new set of shiny pedals.

Needless to say I opted for No. 2.

Then came the curveball.
Purchase shiny new pedals we did but for reasons inexplicable to me, the Wife decided to buy one of those Eco/Urban/Mountain/Assault Bikes that cost more than anything without a motor has any right to cost. I was unable to stop or, in lieu of that, talk good sense to her.

The SuperBike was all mine.

I was immediately uncomfortable. I neither enjoyed riding this gleaming gold mine of unreasonable expense nor could I properly relax whenever and wherever I parked it. I deeply resented having to keep a weather eye on this ostentatious albatross yet couldn’t stop myself from neurotically doing so. I’d gotten used to parking my beat-up old scooter almost anywhere and walking away without a second thought but now it was like I was mentally chained to this gaudy symbol of materialism.
The situation rapidly became untenable.
Luckily, She had a solution.
We, meaning Me, could retrieve my Old bike from the pound then switch wheels, she taking the new set and selling her old, me going back to my safe, cheap, friendly and familiar mode of transport.
I could not argue, and did not even want to, the utter and unassailable logic of this plan.
Our deal was struck.

to be continued.....