Tuesday, August 22, 2006

In Lieu of Not Being an Evil Shitbag

Please accept this, my dog's feces.

Over in Tubaville, there's been a racism theme lately. Thought I'd keep it going with my new find.

Marilyn Musgrave, U.S. House Rep of CO-04 (the whole flat eastern third) is an evil cunt. When daddy rapes daughter, daughter can't abort. She took 30K in DeLay money, which she refused to return or donate to charity. This cooze uses active Marines in political rallies, she was accorded the CREW watchdog honor as "one of the 13 most corrupt members of Congress." The KKK-endorsed cuntwhore sponsored the gay marriage hate bill in the House.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

File This Under "No Shit"

Lance Bass: "I'm gay."

You think?

One down, four to go.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

War of the Worlds Review

Painfully stupid people behave stupidly in a stupid movie. I hate every character in the movie, they all behave in almost jawdroppingly dumb ways. I hated every moment they kept living. Stephen Spielberg has dumped a gigantic, inexplicably craptaculant turd here. I hated this shit.

The End.

Bernard Goldberg is a Ridiculous Douche

On the Bryant Gumbel-hosted REAL Sports on HBO, Bernard Goldberg is one of the feature reporting interviewers. Goldberg is the Jon Stewart's-bitch guy who looks around at the carnage of the current United States domestic and foreign policy and lists Jimmy Carter as the #5 most dangerous person to the Republic.

Anyway, Goldberg, who "admire(s) Rush Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly a lot because I think they're standup guys," was doing a feature on the bizarre story of this guy, James Hogue. Hogue is a very young looking guy and was an incredibly strong long distance runner when he was younger. He is also an apparently compulsive thief who steals worthless crap from rich people and hoards it. Hogue is now facing 48 years in prison in Colorado for repeat felony petty theft offenses... 5,000 items that total near 100K.

The story was actually kind of fascinating. He'd gone to high school back in Kansas City the first time. He got kicked out of the University of Texas because he was stealing crap then as well.

A few years later, when he was too old to get in at the really top-notch places, he decided to go back. Correctly figuring he'd be rejected with a straightforward approach, he decided to use deception as his only chance. He is a very bright guy, 1400+ on his SATs back when 1400 was not arbitrarily inflated by 100 points or whatever. He was a strong long distance runner. On his own intellectual and athletic merits, with the exception of age, he easily belonged at an elite school.

At first, he wanted to go to Stanford. His Stanford plan depended on enrolling at Palo Alto High School and getting noticed and recruited for his running skill. Before it worked, he was found out and kicked out of the high school.

A couple years later, he decided to go to Princeton. As a teammate and friend on the Princeton track team says in the HBO piece, Hogue's genius was figuring out exactly the kind of quirky story admissions offices love. He told Princeton that he was Alexi Santana, a self-taught cowboy who read Plato under the stars and who could run like the wind. For two years in Princeton's class of '93, Hogue was the life of the party. Nobody was the wiser. He could do the work, he was as smart as everyone else, and he was a natural athlete. However, in 1991, a girl from Palo Alto High School attending Princeton recognized him. Thus, he was expelled, arrested, etc.

Eventually he left the east coast, headed back west and worked as a carpenter in places like Aspen and Telluride. Basically, he doesn't discuss the "why" of his cons, which infuriates Goldberg. Here's a paraphrased version of his questioning on this point:
Goldberg - What makes you do this?
Hogue - I don't know, I'm not a psychiatrist. Forced to guess, I'm probably obsessive-compulsive, who knows.
Goldberg - Maybe you're just a compulsive shitbag. Maybe you do this stuff because you're scum.
That is not taking a cheap shot at Goldberg, who says American liberals are "closed-minded and nasty - and fringe." That's a fair encapsulation. Goldberg cannot mask his incredible contempt for this guy.

I found myself thinking, ok, so this Hogue guy clearly has a problem. He made up stories to to to get into elite universities despite being 10 years older than he said he was, and he compulsively can't stop himself from stealing shovels and mounted elk heads from people in Aspen. It's worthless stuff and he just hoards it. He has a psychological problem. But it's not like he raped anyone, beat anyone up, defrauded the state of California for billions in energy prices, or otherwise truly hurt anyone.

As Goldberg heaped venomously hateful insult upon hateful insult (he was genuinely disgusted by the very fact the guy stole crap), I kept wondering why this shitbag's bile and condemnation was so out of line with Hogue's actual crimes. I didn't get it. Hogue freely admits there's something wrong with him, that he can't help it, that he doesn't have a doctor's level analysis but is pretty sure it's compulsive behavior. Most importantly, he freely admits that his own behavior has landed him in deep shit. Goldberg's hatefulness seemed misplaced - the guy wasn't getting away with anything - he always got caught and punished. He clearly couldn't be benfitting from stealing some rich guy's shovel. He wasn't using the shovel. He's jut a guy with a problem and is not facing the consequences. Goldberg literally thought the guy was so maddeningly inexplicable that he said on camera that he (Goldberg) was close to shooting himself trying to intrview the guy.

Still, it's a neat little time capsule of American conservative shitbag Goldberg values. He self-righteously and openly despises this guy to his face, but is deafeningly silent on the deaths of over a thousand in New Orleans that his conservative, contempt for government itself ideals helped foster.

Bernie, why didn't you just follow through on your deathwish, you fucking scumbag?

Saturday, July 08, 2006

The Cup and the Ring

Every April starting in April 1980 through April 2004, the Blues made the Stanley Cup playoffs. And each postseason, they lost. Sometimes bitterly. Sometimes predicatbly. Sometimes they overachieved and somtimes they underachieved. But they never lifted the Cup.

I began fucking in 1988. I have fucked a lot of different girls, women, chicks, girlfriends, random hookups, etc. since then. But I've never gotten married or frankly been that close.

For the last few years, I've been increasingly disenchanted with the idea of just making the playoffs. I've seen every variety of playoff-type team. If I live to be 100, and never see the Blues make the playoffs in all that time, I will not die wondering what it was like to root for my favorite team in the playoffs as underdogs, favorites, whatever. When I judge moves the club makes, I only assess them on a does this build towards a Stanley Cup or does it not. Is this player someone who could be a playoff hero or is he a disappearer?

For the last couple years, I've been a lot less interested in fucking. I know it's sacrilege to be a guy and say that, but I've fucked in all the positions, I've satisfied the whole curiosity thing. In a way, if I had gotten married at 24, I'd be ten+ years into a marriage where I am not convinced that my sex life would be all that thrilling and magical either. It all depends on how both people in a marriage prioritize it, I suppose, but the point is the only thing that makes my situation something I sense I might have to justify is that I'm single rather than married.

I bring both these subjects up in the same sense because the only thing that would really hold interest for me is building a team that could truly run at the Cup, and the only thing that interests me about fucking is doing it with someone who is going to be that long-term partner. Would I be interested in fucking a woman who offers less than that? I mean, fucking is fun. If the Blues make the playoffs but don't have a Cup-threatening team, it's still fun to watch. But it'd be treading water in each case.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Keep Your Girls Off the Pole, Get Your Wives On It

Ah, I thought I was reading the Da Vinci Code:
"It's all about embracing the feminine, embracing your goddess energy."
The sacred feminine works the pole. Though, just so there's no ambiguity, I'm 100% for this.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Deadwood - the Greatest Show Ever

I love the Sopranos. But Deadwood is just a perfect storm of greatness. I could write and write and write and write about my love for the show. But instead I'll point to two sources. One is this highly literate and cool chick's blog I found the other day. She regularly writes about the show, doing post-episode summary and commentaries. The other element is Tim Goodman's review of Season Three from a couple weeks ago, which I will quote from extensively here.
There's a reason why so many people are upset, on the eve of the third season of "Deadwood," that there won't be a proper fourth season because of monetary shenanigans, creative indulgences and twisted logic from HBO and the series' creator, David Milch. That reason: This series is one of a kind. Literally.

While it's true that "Deadwood" is a Western, a genre so worn thin and hallowed out through the years it hasn't been approached much in the modern world, Milch has risen up to take the form and infuse it with his cockeyed genius and he has created a landscape, characters and dialogue so thoroughly original that "Deadwood," when history has its say, may go down as one of television's greatest achievements -- a singular, original vision.

...

Now, "Deadwood" as a series is probably not something a new viewer can walk into come Sunday and make and heads or tails of it. This is Shakespeare in the mud, a labor-intensive aural pleasure that is gilded with excessive violence, an unholy amount of swearing and a lawless machismo that will send the faint of heart or the politically correct reeling. So, all others inclined to see what the fuss is about should immediately tape this season, then rent or buy Seasons 1 and 2.

Exactly. SAT time.
Deadwood : American television/cinema :: Shakespeare : the genre of theatre.

There truly is greatness in spades here, and dissecting "Deadwood" is as much a pleasure as watching it. But before partaking of what Al Swearengen (Ian McShane) would certainly consider unnecessary chatter, first the details of Season 3:

The law is coming to Deadwood. The town is about to hold its first elections and they are, of course, rife with backstage dealing, killing and fear. The dreaded George Hearst (Gerald McRaney -- in a role that certainly reverses a lot of recent network nonsense) is slowly putting the town under his thumb, leaving his imprint and causing no shortage of harm. But those who have been the bigger players in Deadwood, like Swearengen, Seth Bullock (Timothy Olyphant) and Cyrus Tolliver (Powers Boothe), aren't going down without a knife to the eye. But if last season was full of foreboding over Hearst's arrival, this season will be about managing his presence, along with the usual "Deadwood" storylines of whoring, booze, gambling, killing and, well, more whoring.

Deadwood inspires dissection because it is so wonderfully complex, so real, so vivid. The Sopranos is necessarily constrained by the restriction that the milieu is modern American life and we are all familiar with the constraints everyone is operating in. Deadwood, on the other hand, is order out of chaos. It is deliciously unpredictable. In The Sopranos, the ground rules are known. In fact, the mob genre works because it is one set of rules and codes (the mob's) working within and against the larger society's set of rules and codes.

Now, I am not dissing The Sopranos. On the contrary, I deeply love that series. But I am using it as counterpoint to emphasize the unique pallet Milch has to work with here.

Since we now know that Season 3 is the last, sans two hard-won but reluctantly accepted movies that will allegedly appear in the future, there's no getting around the sense of needing to write a fitting epitaph. And in the same moment explain, once again to those who doubt but remain curious and open, what's so special about this foul-mouthed Western.

At the forefront, it's the writing. Next, it's the acting and lastly it's the storytelling, which allows the other two to mesh. But an interesting thing happened to the writing in Season 1. It was odd, sure. Milch is odd. He's theatrical and smart and adorned with a fearlessness that allows him to show off his virtuosity without actually making you hate him for it. But in the beginning, everybody focused on the incessant swearing, which is like a machine gun volley of words that daily newspapers, this one included, hesitate to even judiciously shorten. Suffice it to say all the really bad ones are in "Deadwood" and they pile up on top of each other like corpses in a lawless, godforsaken town. If you can't get past that, go elsewhere.

Exactly. Deadwood is an acquired taste. I had trouble getting into it at first. I tried, then abandoned it about four episodes in. I just didn't believe I could emotionally invest in these characters. It didn't seem that interesting.

So what happened? Well, Season One passed without me finishing it. Then Season Two came along and I discovered the On Demand feature and found this transcript site, which is fantastic and indipensable. Because the language (not the swearing) is so unapologetically styled, the syntax often is hard to translate into real meaning in real time in order to keep up with the conversations. Unintelligent people need not apply as viewers. I'm both intelligent and well-read and trust me, it was not easy, though it does get easier once you both get into the rhythm and understand the characters much more deeply.

But what emerged, by midseason of that first year -- gaining confidence in later episodes and then blooming into magnificence last season -- was a Shakespearean grandness to the vocabulary that built on an ornate structure and was electrified by both humor and twisted logic. It got to the point last year that actually having a story arc for the season and various storylines in each episode was unnecessary (though they were present, handcrafted with precision). No, there was enough joy in just listening to the actors perform that a plot was like a forgotten present after a gift-ravaging Christmas morning.


A-goddamn-men. I wish I had written this. This is exactly how it felt watching Season Two. It is so... fucking... pleasurable. Seriously, read the above paragraph three or four times - it is one of the best ways of describing this show I've ever seen.

The dialogue alone proved there really was nothing else like "Deadwood" on television. But for Milch's vision to succeed, he needs actors to pull it off. That, too, sets "Deadwood" apart from a lot of other series. (HBO has a stable of shows where you can take the 15th most important character and find him or her to be richly nuanced and the actor responsible to be immensely talented). Take a look at this cast. W. Earl Brown as Dan Dority is wonderful. Dayton Callie as Charlie Utter -- excellent. Paula Malcomson as Trixie, Brad Dourif as Doc Cochran, Robin Weigert as Calamity Jane, William Sanderson as E.B. Farnum -- they are all incredible, and that's barely half the cast.

Another bullseye bit of commentary from Goodman. The thing about the 15th most important character being richly nuanced and the actor behind him or her to be incredibly talented - that is just right. It's a perfect storm of acting, probably because there is something so freeing in the language. These are characters living outside of civilization and freedom in expression is the ultimate expression of freedom. The acting is what makes the language come alive. As Goodman says, once you have genius writing and virtuoso acting, the script could be about a ham sandwich and it'd be riveting.

"Deadwood" is just littered with talent. Hell, you can make an argument that Olyphant or Boothe have the misfortune to be overshadowed by the fully earned and totally cashiered virtuosity of McShane. They're really great -- but he's from another planet entirely.

A different planet entirely. That is true. Boothe plays a smoothly evil villain and is brilliant. Olyphant is damn good. But McShane... McShane is miraculously good. Here you have an ensemble cast who are truly as good as any dramatic television cast (or even film cast), and when McShane comes on the screen, you can literally not take your eyes off him. At all times, in any scene he's in, the most pressing thing you want to know is: What is Al gonna do? He is just a relentless force of nature. Riveting. The human embodiment of free market capitalism. Relentlessly self-interested. Willing to kill one of the good guys if need be, fight to the near death, and then hours later effortlessly pivot into an alliance with the same guy because he passionlessly understands it's in his interest. It's only jarring to others. To Al, it makes beautiful sense. And you must understand Al to truly appreciate the show. Al is the soul of Deadwood and the soul of America. He has a wicked sense of humor, can even be merciful. For any actor to pull a character like this off would be a work of genius. And that's McShane's performance. Just the brightest work of genius in the masterwork that is Deadwood.

IMO, the show's episodes must each be watched several times. There are tons of little nuanced things that make more sense when you see the bigger picture. I have watched each episode of the first 27 anywhere from 3-5 times, and I still catch things.

Finally, a quick word about the story. Order out of chaos. Men who long for freedom from the law's constraints, seemingly by inexorable impulse must form an ordered society to protect what they've scraped out. The major story arc is about a mining camp's baby steps, its infighting, its urge to protect itself from outsiders who seek to swoop in and profit from and control it. Swearengen in particular is wonderful because he has that delicious ability to do non-linear thinking, to operate like one-part chessman, one part-mafia boss.

Some things have happened at the outset of Season Three that have set up a titanic struggle between the menacing, masterful Swearengen, and the 800-pound gorilla George Hearst, whose M.O. is to infiltrate and then dominate the rich mining camps of the American West. I don't know how it's going to shake out exactly. It is no foregone conclusion that Al will win - the forces against him are experienced, insanely rich, and incredibly powerful. Yet there's no way after witnessing Al operate for two seasons that you'd think he couldn't pull it off. The next nine weeks are going to be beautiful.

Fuck Nigeria, Part II

Here's part 1.

H.D & ASSOCIATES CHAMBERS
PLOT 12 ABIODU CRESENT
IKOYI, LAGOS - NIGERIA.
TEL NO: 234-1-4772840
DATE: 26/06/2006
Attn: [my real name, he got it off my reply] ,

How are you today? I thank you for your utmost response especially, your mutual understanding and interest in assisting me to accommodate my business interest.
Firstly, I want to re-assure you that this transaction is purely legitimate and have no risk attached. Therefore, we must have to execute this transaction under a legitimate manner to avoid any breach of the law. As a matter of fact, I contacted you based on the fact that you share the same surname with my late client which is a great advantage for us to make this transaction very successful. All I want from you is your honest cooperation and mutual understanding to enable us make this transaction successful for our best interest and mutual benefit.

Note that with my position as the deceased attorney, I have every proves to influence all procedure to our favour to enable you receive the fund as a true legitimate Next of Kin to the deceased. If you are very pleased to execute this transaction with me in all sincerity, then you have to send me immediately your full Name, Address and Job Status to enable me secure the necessary Legal Clearance Documents on your name to back up this claim to your favour in other to authenticate you as the legitimate Next of Kin to the deceased such as:
The documents are as follows:

(1) The Certificate of Inheritance
(2) The Legal Clearance Certificate
(3) The certificate of Administration
(4) An Affidavit of Claim.

These are the Legal Clearance Documents the bank will need before you will be ascertained as the true Next of Kin to the deceased to administer over his fund left behind with the bank. The above clearance Documents must have to be made through the probate section of the High Court of Justice, Lagos-Judiciary.

Therefore, if you find it very conducive to work out this transaction with me as I explained, kindly get back to me urgently. I already have the copy of the “Death Certificate” of the deceased which I will make available to you for your record purposes as soon as you repose your full interest to assist.

You can always reach me on my Private telephone number: 234-1-4772840 for more directives.

Thanks for your understanding.

Best regards,

Barr. Harry Douglas.


I replied:

Harry, Harry, Harry!

When last we spoke, I told you that I insisted upon
giving you all my personal information. All of these
messages are just cluttering up the process. You're
wasting my time. I just need to give you all my
personal information ASAP.

Of course, when last we spoke, I told you I need the
head of a Nigerian boy to show up in a box on my front
doorstep and that you'd have to guess which is my
address. You guessing which address is mine (and you
have to send the box first - that is the only form of
guess I'll accept) is the way you prove to me you're
acting in good faith.

Please send the head.

Yours in severy,
Fiona.

PS - I will also accept the head of a Nigerian girl,
if that makes things simpler for you.

Fuck Nigeria, Part I

Sometimes, I like to have my fun. Just remember, Nigeria couldn't beat Angola in World Cup qualifying. Angola! God damn Angola sucked.

From Barr.Harry Douglas.

H.D & Associate Chambers
Plot 12 Abiodu Cresent, Ikoyi
EMAIL: barr_harrydouglas24@yahoo.co.uk

Dear Fiona ,

I am barrister Harry Douglas, a solicitor at law and the personal attorney to late Mr.Mark Fiona,a national of your country, who was a private contractor with the Shell Development Company in Nigeria, herein after referred to as my client. On the 21st of April 2004, he and his wife and their three children were involved in a car accident along Sagamu express road, all occupants of the vehicle unfortunately lost their lives.Since then I have made several enquiries to your embassy to locate any of my clients extended relatives but without
success.

After these several unsuccessful attempts, I decided to trace his last name to locate any member of his family hence I contacted you. I contacted you to assist me in repatriating the fund and property left behind by my client before they get confiscated or declared unserviceable by the bank where these huge deposits were lodged. The deceased who was my client had an account valued at about US$ 10.5 Million U.S Dollars and the bank has issued me a notice to provide the next of kin or have the account confiscated and transferred into the Federal Government Suspense Reserved Account.

Since I have been unsuccessful in locating any of my clients extended relatives almost three(3) years now, I therefore seek your consent to present you as the next of kin of the deceased since you have the same last name so that the proceeds of this account valued at US$14 Million can be paid to you for our mutual benefit. I have all necessary legal documents to influlence all procedures to this effect. I have agreed to offer you 30% of the total sum for your assistance. All I require is your honest co-operation to enable us see this transaction through. I guarantee you that this will be executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you and I against any breach of the law.

Please get in touch with me urgently if you are interested with my proposal to enable us proceed.

N:B, Please, kindly handle this business proposal with utmost secrecy for our best interest and for security reasons.

Thanks for your mutual understanding.

Best regards,
Barr. Harry Douglas,


I replied:

Dear Harry,

Why are you calling me "Fiona?"

But no matter. Your email is confusing and I'm not
sure what you're asking me for. All I know is the
only way I will continue correspondence is:

1) You permit me to send you my Social Security Number
and bank account information. I won't be able to
trust you unless you agree to receive this
information. It may sound quirky, but that's just the
way I roll.

2) You sever the head of some Nigerian boy and ship it
to America in a box. Note: you will have to correctly
guess my mailing address. Unfortunately, we won't be
able to to do business unless I get the severed head
first. That's how I know I can trust you.

Wishing you sincere going-and-fucking-yourselfery,
Fiona

Sunday, June 25, 2006

I. Have. No. Words.