...So why does it believe that it should extend It's reach into every nook and cranny of our lives? And when I say "It", I don't mean to say the government is a living, breathing, thinking organism, so much as it is a Five Star Cluster Fuck of the Insane, the Criminally Stupid, the Otherwise-Unemployable, and the "We'd-Have-Been-Better-off-as-a-Society-if-your- Mother-Had-Swallowed-You-Or-Daddy-Just-Shot-His-Load-into-The-Bathroom-Sink".
I should think this goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway; this government is fat, bloated, bureaucratic, creaking, plodding, clueless, out of touch, expensive, unresponsive, and packed to the gills with the worst douchebags able to squeak through a third-grade-reading-level Civil Service exam, as to be totally useless.
This government can't even order toilet paper without 100 hours of Congressional debate (so that even the retard back-benchers can get 30 seconds of face time), a battle royale between the talking heads of each party, complete with a demonization of both sides by their opponents, sixteen Potemkin Teleprompter Plays by The Chosen One on how AIG wrecked the toilet paper market, and the New Department of Anal Cleansing Instruments Czar empowered to make up regulations that affect your ass crack without Congressional debate or approval, the defend you against Big Charmin. Keith Olbermann needs to have an on-air aneurysm over the plight of those who can't afford the two-ply and have to make do with the thin single-sheet that very quickly disintegrates and leaves behind a multitude of small, paper balls which attract fecal matter and become the embarrassing and uncomfortable Dingleberries, that will have to be covered under ObamaCare.
And by the time it's all over, the Government will have worked out some new law that promises "free" TP to every filthy tush in America...by 2021...and requires a tax on "The Rich", a class now defined as anyone who has at least 30-cents and a bottlecap in his pocket (Naturally, Congress will exempt itself from the TP tax). By the time the government actually purchases the TP from the mill in Congressman X's district, which happens to be the company in Which Senator Y Owns Substantial Stock, they will have underestimated the real need by at least half, and paid three times the going rate.
And they would have gotten stuff even worse than the One-Ply-Dingleberry-Wonder, and which probably scratched like sandpaper, and give half the people who used it tumors.
We know that's how it works. This government can't help but to fuck up the simplest of things, because it is generally run, from top to bottom, by the biggest Fuck-ups in America.
So,when I read that the government can't count,and the people they hired to count for them are a bunch of crooks, I'm not surprised.
When we observe that the President of the United States is basically out of step with two thirds of the country, but still takes a victory lap for something he hasn't done, or worse, for something he's fucked up even more, I'm not surprised.
Don't be at all shocked when the government decides it has the right and responsibility to feed your children whatever the fuck it deems appropriate, and your little tyke winds up in the hospital getting his stomach pumped.
You should know that the obvious reason why kids are fat is beyond the mental capacity of the typical government douchebag to comprehend; it is because they sit around all day playing video games and screwing with Facebook and YouTube. Maybe if government would stop teaching them how to engage in anal sex, and hire a fucking gym teacher, they wouldn't be so round, and we wouldn't need an expensive new "program" to feed kids rotten vegetables at gourmet prices.
It should come as no surprise that the people who brought you the Fannie and Freddie debacle, the Mortgage Bailout Program Which Failed Spectacularly, who have recklessly spent billions of tax payer dollars ensuring that complete deadbeats can keep a house paid for by someone else's money long after they should have been out on the street, and which devastated residential neighborhoods with an explosion of foreclosures, should suddenly decide that it knows everything about planning the perfect, Potemkin Neighborhood.
Because, you know, everything HUD does works out perfectly.
November can't come soon enough!
Friday, August 06, 2010
Additions to The Blog Roll...
Two more blogs you should visit often. One of them, Small, Dead Animals, is one I had meant to put on the blogroll a long time ago, but always forgot.
The other is The Daily Gut, Greg Gutfeld's (From FoxNews' Red Eye) blog, which I intended to post since...forever.
Anyways, these oversights have now been corrected.
Enjoy!
The other is The Daily Gut, Greg Gutfeld's (From FoxNews' Red Eye) blog, which I intended to post since...forever.
Anyways, these oversights have now been corrected.
Enjoy!
In Case You Wondered Why...
... this woman shouldn't be taken seriously..and why is she on vacation again? Hasn't she already been on vacation, like, eighteen times this year?
...The Inner City is STILL the Inner City. Look who runs for office there, and what their qualifications are.
...soon, no one with half a brain will ever believe another accusation of racism, even if the White Sheets and Burning Cross were caught on videotape. And even then, you'd probably ask for context before you called it"real" racism. Like in this case. Or maybe we could just start putting the real racists in jail and put an end to their stupidity ?
...why people of a certain skin tone seem unable to run countries as well as they run their criminal enterprises.
...the Legacy of Slavery is somehow responsible for someone not floating long enough to be rescued.
...people who claim to "Fight for the Poor" are being investigated for their $1 million dollar
investment in a bank, and allegedly using their political office for personal gain.
...this woman isn't in jail, after arranging a $47 million dollar scam...
Say,anyone notice anything funny about all of these items?
Hey, I guess that by now we're way past the idea that only Whitey has the power, money and connections to be racist and corrupt, right?
(Hat Tip to JammieWearingFool, Lucianne.com, Five Feet of Fury, Small, Dead Animals)
...The Inner City is STILL the Inner City. Look who runs for office there, and what their qualifications are.
...soon, no one with half a brain will ever believe another accusation of racism, even if the White Sheets and Burning Cross were caught on videotape. And even then, you'd probably ask for context before you called it"real" racism. Like in this case. Or maybe we could just start putting the real racists in jail and put an end to their stupidity ?
...why people of a certain skin tone seem unable to run countries as well as they run their criminal enterprises.
...the Legacy of Slavery is somehow responsible for someone not floating long enough to be rescued.
...people who claim to "Fight for the Poor" are being investigated for their $1 million dollar
investment in a bank, and allegedly using their political office for personal gain.
...this woman isn't in jail, after arranging a $47 million dollar scam...
Say,anyone notice anything funny about all of these items?
Hey, I guess that by now we're way past the idea that only Whitey has the power, money and connections to be racist and corrupt, right?
(Hat Tip to JammieWearingFool, Lucianne.com, Five Feet of Fury, Small, Dead Animals)
Of Chimps and Pens...
I was recently reminded of an old saw that goes something like this: if you were to try to teach a chimp to write, there is an infinitely small chance that he might just happen to learn the skills required. However, he's much more likely to just stick the pen in your eye.
The reason this came to mind was what's coming to be called the Obama Apology tour.
Muslims live in the past because that's the only time they ever actually mattered. Their future, such as it is, appears exceedingly bleak; in the near future, most Muslims will be young --below the 16-20 age range -- unemployed or unemployable. Most will be illiterate, and living in countries where conflict is endemic, sanitation is an unknown concept, medicine nonexistent, education undervalued or unavailable, and food is in short supply.
In the West, Muslims will rapidly (if they aren't already) make themselves unwelcome as the economic crisis deepens. French farmers, Greek Trade Unionists, German public workers, will all wonder if it's really worth the trouble of giving Achmed a visa, and putting his three wives on the welfare rolls, having to deal with the problems inherent in dual systems of justice, or having minarets that are taller than the Eiffel marring the city skyline. The Continent that welcomed the Turk, Moroccan and Palestinian to take advantage of their cheap labor, will soon ask Mohammed to leave. But Mo ain't goin' nowhere; he likey the Western Welfare state too much, and he's willin' to fight to keep this gravy train a'rollin'. Besides, he's got nothing to go back to.
We'll soon see if modern Europeans have the stomach for a fight, like their German, French, Polish, Italian, Greek,Czech and British forebears did. In any case, Mo knows this is coming, too, and he fights back with the only weapons he has left: preying upon the guilt of irrationally guilty Western liberals... and Crazy.
The Koran tells the faithful that the future is pre-ordained; that they will win, and the whole world will bow to a stupid black rock in the middle of the desert. God said that was how it will happen, the only question is when it will happen. If you were to take a look at the Modern Muslim, the answer you would expect would be "never". These are people who fuck farm animals and eat them -- andhave developed an entire etiquette about the process. They whine incessantly about how great their culture ONCE was, and consider Suicide Bomber to be a great career choice for any young, enterprising chap with dedication and a work ethic. And if you don't want to major in KABOOM in school, you can always escape to the West...and live on welfare.
I think some in the Muslim World, the really smart ones who get others to blow themselves up for the cause, know this. I think they have known it for a very long time. Islam is like a Seinfeld religion; ultimately, it's all about nothing. Because if the Islamonazis ever succeeded, all the treasures they hope to acquire for themselves -- the plentiful manufactures of the West -- require something Islam cannot abide: Freedom.
Freedom to think, to experiment, to question authority. No progress is ever made without someone first asking the question "Why?". In the Islamic system, those who create or have created -- the Free -- become slaves. As soon as that freedom is lost, the society and the economic cornucopia that society produces, will vanish, and Muslims, who are conditioned by religious tradition and nomadic culture to be intellectually incurious, to never question authority, to never believe that Man can discern the ways of God in Nature, will have lost everything they worked so hard to steal. It will crumble beneath their feet. They do not have the knowledge, the will, the drive, the scientific and mechanical acumen, to build and maintain the modern world for themselves; it's why they need us in chains.
Everyting that makes modern life bearable and possible was most likely invented by a Western Man. The only patents the Middle East ever held for anything were for Syphilis and the Suicide Belt.
It's also why they do what they do: bombs office buildings, build Victory Mosques on the site of tragedies, attack and kill Christian and Jew (although if they do that, who's gonna do their taxes fix their catalytic converter, or keep the toilets working?); the act of destruction is, on some level, a tacit admission that Islam cannot hope to match the West, and so the West must be pulled down, bit-by-bit. It's institutions must be attacked, it's society perverted, it's laws twisted, it's sense of fairness turned against it, and just to make sure, it's people terrorized, property threatened, and liberties curbed. That the Infidel Puking Dog often does these things better than the Islamic Suicide Nut, is something the boys back in the caves get a big kick out of. In the meantime, most of the"radicalized" Western bomber types, are typically losers who's biggest complaints in life are that ShopRite doesn't carry halal hemorrhoid cream, and the blond-haired-blue-eyed chicks won't fuck 'em. They crave the blond chicks, you know. Ooops,lost my place...
Since Islam cannot match the level of the West, then the West must be brought down to Islam's level. That's the thought behind Islamofascism, and since it is a thought most deeply held by the most disaffected and insane of a incredibly inept people (We're dumb-asses who couldn't organize a gang-bang at Hedonism! We're such doofuses we think a grisly Death is preferable to Life! We're such fuck-ups that we can't even get a black substance that naturally percolates upwards on it's own out of the ground without Western money and expertise!), it's seen as a base Negative. There must be a Positive to balance this out, or the people will lose faith and Allah's prophecy will come to nothing.
Yeah, that strategy worked for the Soviet Union, too.
So Islam lives in the past. Still. Those were the Glory Days, when the call to prayer could be heard from the Russian Steppes to the Ganges, from the borders of China to the Atlantic. A time when men were men, and sheep were in danger (come to think of it, sheep still are in danger); a time when Islam stormed the gates of Vienna with cannon and thousands of horsemen...not work visas, and food stamps. It evokes this magnificent, stolen, past and claims it will be the Shining Future. The Greeks, Indians, Romans, Byzantines, Egyptians, Carthaginians, Persians, Assyrians, were all builders, all creators; Islam is a culture of theives, bullies and squatters who live in the reflected glow of their cultural betters. That's what they're offering the Faithful: a world of delights and plenty, stolen from Others, produced and maintained by Others, an Eternal Present which has no Future...or at least remains an eternal present until things start breaking, and there's no one around to fix it for them.
This is the Future Ordained By God?
The Dream of World Domination with hot-and-cold-running-camel-fucking is merely their Ultimate Goal, but the vehicle which carries them there is pure Spite. It's the seething, petty jealousy that understandibly burns within a man who is called a fuck-up to his face, and deep in his heart knows this to be true. It's hate flavored with Shame. That sort of man is easily provoked to violence, and no amount of begging will prevent that violence from occurring whenever some douchebag with a too-tight towel around his head decides toopen a fresh can o' Whoop Ass. We can hope that the Muslim world will finally get around to engaging in a "meaningful dialogue" with us, as the Obamatards like to say, but that requirees thatthey make the great leap out of the 7th century, and then learn to wash. In the meantime, the official Presidential Ass-kisser to the Muslim Chimps just got the pen jammed right up his ass...sideways.
And that was more than likely to be the result before any of it ever started. I don't blame the Obamatards for trying, but surely they couldn't be surprised at the reaction they got. If they were, someone at the White House needs a 48-hour enema.
UPDATE: Apparently, this jihad shit is all about The Clitoris. The Pussies are afraid of Pussy. Go figure. Maybe if we gave them boys some Viagra and taught 'em how to find the G-spot, we could leave Afghanistan.
The reason this came to mind was what's coming to be called the Obama Apology tour.
Muslims live in the past because that's the only time they ever actually mattered. Their future, such as it is, appears exceedingly bleak; in the near future, most Muslims will be young --below the 16-20 age range -- unemployed or unemployable. Most will be illiterate, and living in countries where conflict is endemic, sanitation is an unknown concept, medicine nonexistent, education undervalued or unavailable, and food is in short supply.
In the West, Muslims will rapidly (if they aren't already) make themselves unwelcome as the economic crisis deepens. French farmers, Greek Trade Unionists, German public workers, will all wonder if it's really worth the trouble of giving Achmed a visa, and putting his three wives on the welfare rolls, having to deal with the problems inherent in dual systems of justice, or having minarets that are taller than the Eiffel marring the city skyline. The Continent that welcomed the Turk, Moroccan and Palestinian to take advantage of their cheap labor, will soon ask Mohammed to leave. But Mo ain't goin' nowhere; he likey the Western Welfare state too much, and he's willin' to fight to keep this gravy train a'rollin'. Besides, he's got nothing to go back to.
We'll soon see if modern Europeans have the stomach for a fight, like their German, French, Polish, Italian, Greek,Czech and British forebears did. In any case, Mo knows this is coming, too, and he fights back with the only weapons he has left: preying upon the guilt of irrationally guilty Western liberals... and Crazy.
The Koran tells the faithful that the future is pre-ordained; that they will win, and the whole world will bow to a stupid black rock in the middle of the desert. God said that was how it will happen, the only question is when it will happen. If you were to take a look at the Modern Muslim, the answer you would expect would be "never". These are people who fuck farm animals and eat them -- andhave developed an entire etiquette about the process. They whine incessantly about how great their culture ONCE was, and consider Suicide Bomber to be a great career choice for any young, enterprising chap with dedication and a work ethic. And if you don't want to major in KABOOM in school, you can always escape to the West...and live on welfare.
I think some in the Muslim World, the really smart ones who get others to blow themselves up for the cause, know this. I think they have known it for a very long time. Islam is like a Seinfeld religion; ultimately, it's all about nothing. Because if the Islamonazis ever succeeded, all the treasures they hope to acquire for themselves -- the plentiful manufactures of the West -- require something Islam cannot abide: Freedom.
Freedom to think, to experiment, to question authority. No progress is ever made without someone first asking the question "Why?". In the Islamic system, those who create or have created -- the Free -- become slaves. As soon as that freedom is lost, the society and the economic cornucopia that society produces, will vanish, and Muslims, who are conditioned by religious tradition and nomadic culture to be intellectually incurious, to never question authority, to never believe that Man can discern the ways of God in Nature, will have lost everything they worked so hard to steal. It will crumble beneath their feet. They do not have the knowledge, the will, the drive, the scientific and mechanical acumen, to build and maintain the modern world for themselves; it's why they need us in chains.
Everyting that makes modern life bearable and possible was most likely invented by a Western Man. The only patents the Middle East ever held for anything were for Syphilis and the Suicide Belt.
It's also why they do what they do: bombs office buildings, build Victory Mosques on the site of tragedies, attack and kill Christian and Jew (although if they do that, who's gonna do their taxes fix their catalytic converter, or keep the toilets working?); the act of destruction is, on some level, a tacit admission that Islam cannot hope to match the West, and so the West must be pulled down, bit-by-bit. It's institutions must be attacked, it's society perverted, it's laws twisted, it's sense of fairness turned against it, and just to make sure, it's people terrorized, property threatened, and liberties curbed. That the Infidel Puking Dog often does these things better than the Islamic Suicide Nut, is something the boys back in the caves get a big kick out of. In the meantime, most of the"radicalized" Western bomber types, are typically losers who's biggest complaints in life are that ShopRite doesn't carry halal hemorrhoid cream, and the blond-haired-blue-eyed chicks won't fuck 'em. They crave the blond chicks, you know. Ooops,lost my place...
Since Islam cannot match the level of the West, then the West must be brought down to Islam's level. That's the thought behind Islamofascism, and since it is a thought most deeply held by the most disaffected and insane of a incredibly inept people (We're dumb-asses who couldn't organize a gang-bang at Hedonism! We're such doofuses we think a grisly Death is preferable to Life! We're such fuck-ups that we can't even get a black substance that naturally percolates upwards on it's own out of the ground without Western money and expertise!), it's seen as a base Negative. There must be a Positive to balance this out, or the people will lose faith and Allah's prophecy will come to nothing.
Yeah, that strategy worked for the Soviet Union, too.
So Islam lives in the past. Still. Those were the Glory Days, when the call to prayer could be heard from the Russian Steppes to the Ganges, from the borders of China to the Atlantic. A time when men were men, and sheep were in danger (come to think of it, sheep still are in danger); a time when Islam stormed the gates of Vienna with cannon and thousands of horsemen...not work visas, and food stamps. It evokes this magnificent, stolen, past and claims it will be the Shining Future. The Greeks, Indians, Romans, Byzantines, Egyptians, Carthaginians, Persians, Assyrians, were all builders, all creators; Islam is a culture of theives, bullies and squatters who live in the reflected glow of their cultural betters. That's what they're offering the Faithful: a world of delights and plenty, stolen from Others, produced and maintained by Others, an Eternal Present which has no Future...or at least remains an eternal present until things start breaking, and there's no one around to fix it for them.
This is the Future Ordained By God?
The Dream of World Domination with hot-and-cold-running-camel-fucking is merely their Ultimate Goal, but the vehicle which carries them there is pure Spite. It's the seething, petty jealousy that understandibly burns within a man who is called a fuck-up to his face, and deep in his heart knows this to be true. It's hate flavored with Shame. That sort of man is easily provoked to violence, and no amount of begging will prevent that violence from occurring whenever some douchebag with a too-tight towel around his head decides toopen a fresh can o' Whoop Ass. We can hope that the Muslim world will finally get around to engaging in a "meaningful dialogue" with us, as the Obamatards like to say, but that requirees thatthey make the great leap out of the 7th century, and then learn to wash. In the meantime, the official Presidential Ass-kisser to the Muslim Chimps just got the pen jammed right up his ass...sideways.
And that was more than likely to be the result before any of it ever started. I don't blame the Obamatards for trying, but surely they couldn't be surprised at the reaction they got. If they were, someone at the White House needs a 48-hour enema.
UPDATE: Apparently, this jihad shit is all about The Clitoris. The Pussies are afraid of Pussy. Go figure. Maybe if we gave them boys some Viagra and taught 'em how to find the G-spot, we could leave Afghanistan.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Dear God: Can I Have My Rib Back? - Part II
"Janet" is a handsome woman. Pleasant looking, she has a little bit of "extra" here and there, but it is mostly in all the right places. Sandy-colored hair (natural, she assures me), not a speck of grey. She is 44, and is a Nurse-Practitioner. She wears a bit too much makeup for my tastes. Her most outstanding feature (apart from an ample rack) is her eyes; Janet has hazel eyes that seem to change color, blue or green, with her moods. Really unusual.
Anyways, the date had been arranged for us. Janet and I are both sports fans (me, hockey, she baseball), so the "service" arranged tickets to a Staten Island Yankees game (that is the New York Yankee's A-ball affiliate. See tomorrow's Stars Today!). We met at the Ticket Window for an afternoon game. Janet arrived in full S-I-Yanks regalia.
That should have been my first clue.
Janet is a rabid baseball fan. "Rabid" might be too tame a word. From the second she arrives at the ball park she's into every pitch, every crotch grab, every call of ball-and-strike. She calls the pitches before they're thrown (and often, she's right!), and will tell you all you need to know about which strategy the coach should use in this situation, does The Wave at every opportunity, leads the cheers in your seating section. explains the nuances inherent in the way a particular player spits his sunflower seeds out. It's like watching a game with Tim McCarver off his meds...only with bigger tits.
Okay, that's a little intense, but it's not catastrophic. It just means she has a passion for something, and it may be off-puttin, but now that the game is over and dinner is on the horizon, perhaps things will take a different tack, right? That optimistic thought was nearly annhillated when she started dressing for dinner....in the stadium parking lot. I was asked to "stand guard...and try not to peek" while she changed clothes for dinner in the back seat of her SUV. Okay, kinda strange, but not terrible.
Dinner, however, revolved around three subjects; her ex-husband (a.k.a. the Fuckin' Bastid!), her job (all you ever wanted to know about vile bodily fluids, but were afraid to ask), and....baseball. In fact, she asked the waiter it if would be possible for the television over the bar to tune into the Mets game.
I figured I must have been pretty boring company, or that she just wasn't interested. The ballgame on TV, and all the talk about puke and enemas were designed to make me lose interest, so that she wouldn't have to tell the truth when the dreaded"Shall we do this again?" question was asked later on in the evening. Apparently, this is not the case at all -- I'm "a blast" --and a gentleman -- she says, and would go out with me again. However, "Janet" is a bit too much of a tomboy for my tastes. I'm thinking "no".
Date #2 was "Tara". Tara is a brunette, a hairdresser (although she kept correcting me; the proper term nowadays is Professional Stylist). She is 41 years old. She's not unattractive, but for someone who is a"professional stylist" she seems to have none. Her hair reminded me of those curly up-do's you often see on girls attending the Junior Prom. Her makeup is slathered on with a trowel. it's far too obvious which parts have been surgically altered. She has a voice that makes you wonder "whatever happened to Fran Drescher ("The Nanny")?"
Tara is dumber than a sack of hammers once you get past the surface chit-chat...and the second Margarita. I should have known when the date she had arranged involved a noted meat market for the over-35 set that this was not going to go very well. Tara, you see, is still single, always has been, and it's because she's a barfly. Not an alcoholic, mind you, just someone who never outgrew the 80's, when all the happenin' young folks in Brooklyn were out in the bars, or"down the Shore". Mentally, as far as her social life is concerned, this is where she still is. It's like having your own personal version of the "Jersey Shore", only with more fake tans, more fake nails, and more nasally conversation.
She's a nice woman, though, seems very decent underneath it all, and I'd decided to give the evening one more chance, nonetheless.I might have missed something in a rush to judgement. I shouldn't have bothered.
"Tara" chose this particular bar because that's where all her girlfriends hang out(also all single Professional Stylists with too much makeup and terrible haircuts...go figure) and she wanted to be seen with someone. Presumably so that they would have something to talk about in the salon for the next six months. While I was flattered that they all loved my hair (Oh my gawwwd! It's so thick and sawwwft! What do you do to it?) and couldn't stop running their hands through it, and the compliment that they would all "kill to have eyelashes" like mine was, to say the least, a new one on me, I don't think I could take this sort of mentality for anextended period of time without reaching for a pistol.
I grew up with "Tara", in a manner of speaking, in that she is the Prototypical Brooklyn Club Girl, but whereas most of the ones I knew grew out of that Club-and-Bar-hot-makeout-session-in-the-parking-lot lifestyle, she most certainly did not. Viewed in that light, all the makeup, the plastic surgery, the sparkly spandex catsuit with the oversized rhinestone-studded leather belt and four-inch stilettos, suddenly made sense: this is someone who wants to stay 21 forever.
Date #3 went surprisingly well, however.
"Kim" is a VERY well-preserved 43 year-old librarian. She's a bike rider and swims. A natural redhead (so she says!), with a wonderful sense of humor. She is delightful, intelligent, extremely well-read, but not nerdy. She has two children (one about to start architectural school, the other joined the Air Force after graduating from high school), who apparently have never given her any grief in their entire lives, which probably accounts for why she didn't say a word about them after acknowledging that they exist. She seems extremely well-adjusted and happy...which scares the shit out of me.
Kim and I met at the Rambles in Central Park, where she suggested a picnic. I'm not one for picnicking, but I figured "what the hell?". She said not to bring anything, and she would handle it all. And she did!
Kim apparently likes to cook, and does it well. Somehow, she managed to cram quite the spread into that little cooler of hers. It was like a walk down memory lane for me; Bocconchino with the REAL Mozzarella -- not that plastic supermarket crap -- roasted red peppers, fresh olives, Sotto Aceti (an Italian pickled vegetable salad), Parma ham, three kinds of salami, fresh bread...and two bottles of the Orvietto region's finest. She made it all, she said, THAT morning. This is how my Grandmother used to cook. As soon as she had discovered that I am Italian, she decided that this was THE way to meet. We spread a blanket out under a tree on the edge of the Sheep Meadow (it was "only" in the low-90's that day; the week before had seen 100+ temps in New York City), and feasted and had a blast.
And then the cop caught sight of the wine bottle, and gave us a choice: pack it up and leave in the next five minutes, or take the summons -- and possible arrest --for drinking in public. So, we left.
We found a coffee shop, and had a couple of cups each, and had a wonderful time. It turned out that six hours had passed since we had first entered the coffee shop until someone checked a watch. "Kim" has already gotten a call for a second date, and has accepted.
Fingers crossed.
Anyways, the date had been arranged for us. Janet and I are both sports fans (me, hockey, she baseball), so the "service" arranged tickets to a Staten Island Yankees game (that is the New York Yankee's A-ball affiliate. See tomorrow's Stars Today!). We met at the Ticket Window for an afternoon game. Janet arrived in full S-I-Yanks regalia.
That should have been my first clue.
Janet is a rabid baseball fan. "Rabid" might be too tame a word. From the second she arrives at the ball park she's into every pitch, every crotch grab, every call of ball-and-strike. She calls the pitches before they're thrown (and often, she's right!), and will tell you all you need to know about which strategy the coach should use in this situation, does The Wave at every opportunity, leads the cheers in your seating section. explains the nuances inherent in the way a particular player spits his sunflower seeds out. It's like watching a game with Tim McCarver off his meds...only with bigger tits.
Okay, that's a little intense, but it's not catastrophic. It just means she has a passion for something, and it may be off-puttin, but now that the game is over and dinner is on the horizon, perhaps things will take a different tack, right? That optimistic thought was nearly annhillated when she started dressing for dinner....in the stadium parking lot. I was asked to "stand guard...and try not to peek" while she changed clothes for dinner in the back seat of her SUV. Okay, kinda strange, but not terrible.
Dinner, however, revolved around three subjects; her ex-husband (a.k.a. the Fuckin' Bastid!), her job (all you ever wanted to know about vile bodily fluids, but were afraid to ask), and....baseball. In fact, she asked the waiter it if would be possible for the television over the bar to tune into the Mets game.
I figured I must have been pretty boring company, or that she just wasn't interested. The ballgame on TV, and all the talk about puke and enemas were designed to make me lose interest, so that she wouldn't have to tell the truth when the dreaded"Shall we do this again?" question was asked later on in the evening. Apparently, this is not the case at all -- I'm "a blast" --and a gentleman -- she says, and would go out with me again. However, "Janet" is a bit too much of a tomboy for my tastes. I'm thinking "no".
Date #2 was "Tara". Tara is a brunette, a hairdresser (although she kept correcting me; the proper term nowadays is Professional Stylist). She is 41 years old. She's not unattractive, but for someone who is a"professional stylist" she seems to have none. Her hair reminded me of those curly up-do's you often see on girls attending the Junior Prom. Her makeup is slathered on with a trowel. it's far too obvious which parts have been surgically altered. She has a voice that makes you wonder "whatever happened to Fran Drescher ("The Nanny")?"
Tara is dumber than a sack of hammers once you get past the surface chit-chat...and the second Margarita. I should have known when the date she had arranged involved a noted meat market for the over-35 set that this was not going to go very well. Tara, you see, is still single, always has been, and it's because she's a barfly. Not an alcoholic, mind you, just someone who never outgrew the 80's, when all the happenin' young folks in Brooklyn were out in the bars, or"down the Shore". Mentally, as far as her social life is concerned, this is where she still is. It's like having your own personal version of the "Jersey Shore", only with more fake tans, more fake nails, and more nasally conversation.
She's a nice woman, though, seems very decent underneath it all, and I'd decided to give the evening one more chance, nonetheless.I might have missed something in a rush to judgement. I shouldn't have bothered.
"Tara" chose this particular bar because that's where all her girlfriends hang out(also all single Professional Stylists with too much makeup and terrible haircuts...go figure) and she wanted to be seen with someone. Presumably so that they would have something to talk about in the salon for the next six months. While I was flattered that they all loved my hair (Oh my gawwwd! It's so thick and sawwwft! What do you do to it?) and couldn't stop running their hands through it, and the compliment that they would all "kill to have eyelashes" like mine was, to say the least, a new one on me, I don't think I could take this sort of mentality for anextended period of time without reaching for a pistol.
I grew up with "Tara", in a manner of speaking, in that she is the Prototypical Brooklyn Club Girl, but whereas most of the ones I knew grew out of that Club-and-Bar-hot-makeout-session-in-the-parking-lot lifestyle, she most certainly did not. Viewed in that light, all the makeup, the plastic surgery, the sparkly spandex catsuit with the oversized rhinestone-studded leather belt and four-inch stilettos, suddenly made sense: this is someone who wants to stay 21 forever.
Date #3 went surprisingly well, however.
"Kim" is a VERY well-preserved 43 year-old librarian. She's a bike rider and swims. A natural redhead (so she says!), with a wonderful sense of humor. She is delightful, intelligent, extremely well-read, but not nerdy. She has two children (one about to start architectural school, the other joined the Air Force after graduating from high school), who apparently have never given her any grief in their entire lives, which probably accounts for why she didn't say a word about them after acknowledging that they exist. She seems extremely well-adjusted and happy...which scares the shit out of me.
Kim and I met at the Rambles in Central Park, where she suggested a picnic. I'm not one for picnicking, but I figured "what the hell?". She said not to bring anything, and she would handle it all. And she did!
Kim apparently likes to cook, and does it well. Somehow, she managed to cram quite the spread into that little cooler of hers. It was like a walk down memory lane for me; Bocconchino with the REAL Mozzarella -- not that plastic supermarket crap -- roasted red peppers, fresh olives, Sotto Aceti (an Italian pickled vegetable salad), Parma ham, three kinds of salami, fresh bread...and two bottles of the Orvietto region's finest. She made it all, she said, THAT morning. This is how my Grandmother used to cook. As soon as she had discovered that I am Italian, she decided that this was THE way to meet. We spread a blanket out under a tree on the edge of the Sheep Meadow (it was "only" in the low-90's that day; the week before had seen 100+ temps in New York City), and feasted and had a blast.
And then the cop caught sight of the wine bottle, and gave us a choice: pack it up and leave in the next five minutes, or take the summons -- and possible arrest --for drinking in public. So, we left.
We found a coffee shop, and had a couple of cups each, and had a wonderful time. It turned out that six hours had passed since we had first entered the coffee shop until someone checked a watch. "Kim" has already gotten a call for a second date, and has accepted.
Fingers crossed.
Dear God: Can I Have My Rib Back? - Part I
One of the reasons why I haven't been here on a daily basis screaming uselessly into the wind is that I have some new pre-occupations these days.
The first of these is (arguably) gainful employment (see next post), and the second is that I have started dating again. If my first three "dates" were any indication of what the "Singles Scene" is for over 40's, I'm thinking an Asian Mail-order bride might be in order. At least they don't speak very good Eng-rish, do the laundry without complaint, and won't talk the hind leg off a donkey.
To begin with, let me make this clear before I take my dates apart at the joints; I am no Prince. I'm a good 40 pounds overweight, I'm so stubborn that stubborn oxen look at me and say "Hey, that guy's a fuckin' douche!". I'm opinionated, can be arrogant, and I'm one of those people who is psychologically hard-wired to point out the stupidity of others and make obnoxious comments about it -- without noticing my own stupidity in the process.
In my favor, however; if I care for you, you will have no better ally, no more intrepid defender. I will shut up just long enough to listen to you (if I must --heh!), and you can be assured that when you TRULY require my undivided attention -- in all things -- you will have it. You will be respected, valued, and loved. Loyalty, Respect and Consideration are all I have give, and they're also all I'll ever ask for.
Now, here I was thinking about dating again, but taking a different path than I have for, say...the last 25 years of my life. Part of my problem with women is that I seem to find the same sort over and over again; women who need to be rescued. I've been told I have this "White Knight" syndrome by my female friends for like...forever...and it's led me to nothing but trouble. So,this time around, I have decided to be especially critical in my choice of potential mates. No more losers for Your's Truly, because I've finally learned that I'm not capable of fixing someone else's problems, and I'm not going to anymore. I have my own, Thank you Very Much. Leave your baggage at the door, Lady.
Having been on the shelf for a bit, I have had to learn a few things all over again, like making small talk. At first this was difficult, but with my natural fucking charm (ha!) and acute sense of humor, this becomes easier as things move along. I've also had to learn that we live in a different day-and-age: there was a time when Women were expected to be Ladies, and Men were expected to treat them as such. Not anymore. I mean, I have a foul mouth, and use the coarsest language you might imagine, but can manage to control it in (most) social situations. Imagine my surprise when I find myself out on the town with three...ahem...ladies who can a) outcurse me, b) drink me under the table, and c) make no secret about their sexual desires -- and/or deviances.
I'm meeting chicks through a dating service, which is local, and I shan't talk about here -- just in case this all turns out to be a huge pile of dogcrap.
I've had three dates so far, and none of them were anything to brag about, primarily because the selection of women available after 40 leaves a lot to be desired, although this is not entirely fair to them; the selection of men can't be that awesome, either. Suffice to say, at this stage in life, you're dealing with a few, basic categories of females:
1. The Career Chick - she's never had time for a husband or family because she was busy trying to break glass ceilings, or to out-hustle the Boys in the Office to make Salesperson of the Year, and up until now, she has been filling her emotional holes with the trappings of success; cars, vacations, clothes, etc. She presents a dichotomy; she wants you to believe that she's tough, aggressive, able to take the rough-and-tumble of the Board Room and the Bedroom, worthy of your respect and admiration, but all she ever talks about is how tough it is to be a Woman. In fact, she never shuts up about it. She does nothing but give you her resume...all evening.
When she's not whining about having a menstrual cycle, she's a fucking predator. She's learned, through the Darwinian process of the Business World, to take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself, whether that's professional, financial, or sexual. One minute, she's complaining about the burden of her vagina, and the very next offering it you on a silver platter. She's torn between a lifetime of bad habits, and a biological/psychological need; she behaves like a Man, but wants to be treated like a Woman, and the lines about where one should start and the other end are often entirely too blurry to discern.
2. The "Second Lifer" - This is a middle-aged woman, usually recently widowed or divorced, who has decided that NOW is Me Time. Her children are grown and have left the nest. Her duty as Wife and Mother have been dispatched to the best of her ability, and are now no longer required; she can enjoy the remainder of her life free of responsibility. It is now time to see to HER needs for a change.
Except that she can't stop talking about that former life, because it has been, for a very long time, her only frame of reference. This sort usually married young, and was not very socially active in a way that didn't involve her children or husband. Consequently, every activity you engage in, every conversation you have, every passing reference to anything in creation, usually results in a long-winded tale originating from deep within the Old Life, and you are expected to fake nostalgia for people and events that you never knew or experienced. This kind of woman is usually very nice, very lady-like, but about as interesting as a tunafish sandwich.
3. Lucy the Loser -this woman has, as the saying goes, been "ridden hard and put away wet". Lucy types come in two varieties; an original thought and a cold glass of water might put her into a coma, or the ones who don't have a thought that originates above the waist. Usually they're both.
You can smell this one coming from a mile away because she's just too eager to please. In all respects. It's all forced, it's all an act. Here's a mental checklist to use, to see if you've ever hooked up with Lucy before:
a. Divorced more than once, often three times or more, and quite possibly abused along the way.
b. Talks freely about her boobs/oral sex skills/the threesome with another girl that she had in college, and makes certain that everyone in the room hears her. She might even repeat it all several times for the benefit of those who didn't get it the first seven times.
c. She can't go five minutes without complimenting you/buttering you up, even if she has to interrupt you and change the subject to do it.
d. Everything anyone says or does immediately evokes a sexual reference.
e. Despite the dazzling smile, the girlish laughter, the come-hither eyelash batting, the all-too-obvious low-cutness of the dress, and the inviting sexual undertone, one look into this woman's eyes reveals....nothing. Her eyes are dead; there's nothing there. That's your first hint that Lucy is a fucking psycho, and that no blowjob on Earth is worth that much trouble.
4. The Reluctant Traveler-This woman insists that she's only doing this because "my girlfriend made me", or "I had nothing better to do, so why not?", but she's playing a game that makes you want to reach across the table and fucking choke her within an inch of her life.
This date is a mental minefield; she's really toying with you in a passive-aggressive manner, dropping (often-contradictory) hints all the time -- because plain talk would blow her "cover". If you do manage to pick up a hint along the way and follow this thread past a certain point, she suddenly changes direction. It's a game of Encouragement-and-Discouragement, and it serves two purposes;
a. It's a test to see just how into her you are. This is judged by your willingness to play this stupid game; respond to her like panting puppy, and you might be getting somewhere...but not very far.
b. It's a test to see just how into you she is. Refuse to play her game, and you're toast. But, she will be nice about it and let you pick up the check, anyways.
In both cases, it's all about what She can get out of You. She's a selfish cunt, best given a wide berth, and perhaps a punch in the mouth.
Next, the Dates....Or, at least, the best of them so far.
The first of these is (arguably) gainful employment (see next post), and the second is that I have started dating again. If my first three "dates" were any indication of what the "Singles Scene" is for over 40's, I'm thinking an Asian Mail-order bride might be in order. At least they don't speak very good Eng-rish, do the laundry without complaint, and won't talk the hind leg off a donkey.
To begin with, let me make this clear before I take my dates apart at the joints; I am no Prince. I'm a good 40 pounds overweight, I'm so stubborn that stubborn oxen look at me and say "Hey, that guy's a fuckin' douche!". I'm opinionated, can be arrogant, and I'm one of those people who is psychologically hard-wired to point out the stupidity of others and make obnoxious comments about it -- without noticing my own stupidity in the process.
In my favor, however; if I care for you, you will have no better ally, no more intrepid defender. I will shut up just long enough to listen to you (if I must --heh!), and you can be assured that when you TRULY require my undivided attention -- in all things -- you will have it. You will be respected, valued, and loved. Loyalty, Respect and Consideration are all I have give, and they're also all I'll ever ask for.
Now, here I was thinking about dating again, but taking a different path than I have for, say...the last 25 years of my life. Part of my problem with women is that I seem to find the same sort over and over again; women who need to be rescued. I've been told I have this "White Knight" syndrome by my female friends for like...forever...and it's led me to nothing but trouble. So,this time around, I have decided to be especially critical in my choice of potential mates. No more losers for Your's Truly, because I've finally learned that I'm not capable of fixing someone else's problems, and I'm not going to anymore. I have my own, Thank you Very Much. Leave your baggage at the door, Lady.
Having been on the shelf for a bit, I have had to learn a few things all over again, like making small talk. At first this was difficult, but with my natural fucking charm (ha!) and acute sense of humor, this becomes easier as things move along. I've also had to learn that we live in a different day-and-age: there was a time when Women were expected to be Ladies, and Men were expected to treat them as such. Not anymore. I mean, I have a foul mouth, and use the coarsest language you might imagine, but can manage to control it in (most) social situations. Imagine my surprise when I find myself out on the town with three...ahem...ladies who can a) outcurse me, b) drink me under the table, and c) make no secret about their sexual desires -- and/or deviances.
I'm meeting chicks through a dating service, which is local, and I shan't talk about here -- just in case this all turns out to be a huge pile of dogcrap.
I've had three dates so far, and none of them were anything to brag about, primarily because the selection of women available after 40 leaves a lot to be desired, although this is not entirely fair to them; the selection of men can't be that awesome, either. Suffice to say, at this stage in life, you're dealing with a few, basic categories of females:
1. The Career Chick - she's never had time for a husband or family because she was busy trying to break glass ceilings, or to out-hustle the Boys in the Office to make Salesperson of the Year, and up until now, she has been filling her emotional holes with the trappings of success; cars, vacations, clothes, etc. She presents a dichotomy; she wants you to believe that she's tough, aggressive, able to take the rough-and-tumble of the Board Room and the Bedroom, worthy of your respect and admiration, but all she ever talks about is how tough it is to be a Woman. In fact, she never shuts up about it. She does nothing but give you her resume...all evening.
When she's not whining about having a menstrual cycle, she's a fucking predator. She's learned, through the Darwinian process of the Business World, to take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself, whether that's professional, financial, or sexual. One minute, she's complaining about the burden of her vagina, and the very next offering it you on a silver platter. She's torn between a lifetime of bad habits, and a biological/psychological need; she behaves like a Man, but wants to be treated like a Woman, and the lines about where one should start and the other end are often entirely too blurry to discern.
2. The "Second Lifer" - This is a middle-aged woman, usually recently widowed or divorced, who has decided that NOW is Me Time. Her children are grown and have left the nest. Her duty as Wife and Mother have been dispatched to the best of her ability, and are now no longer required; she can enjoy the remainder of her life free of responsibility. It is now time to see to HER needs for a change.
Except that she can't stop talking about that former life, because it has been, for a very long time, her only frame of reference. This sort usually married young, and was not very socially active in a way that didn't involve her children or husband. Consequently, every activity you engage in, every conversation you have, every passing reference to anything in creation, usually results in a long-winded tale originating from deep within the Old Life, and you are expected to fake nostalgia for people and events that you never knew or experienced. This kind of woman is usually very nice, very lady-like, but about as interesting as a tunafish sandwich.
3. Lucy the Loser -this woman has, as the saying goes, been "ridden hard and put away wet". Lucy types come in two varieties; an original thought and a cold glass of water might put her into a coma, or the ones who don't have a thought that originates above the waist. Usually they're both.
You can smell this one coming from a mile away because she's just too eager to please. In all respects. It's all forced, it's all an act. Here's a mental checklist to use, to see if you've ever hooked up with Lucy before:
a. Divorced more than once, often three times or more, and quite possibly abused along the way.
b. Talks freely about her boobs/oral sex skills/the threesome with another girl that she had in college, and makes certain that everyone in the room hears her. She might even repeat it all several times for the benefit of those who didn't get it the first seven times.
c. She can't go five minutes without complimenting you/buttering you up, even if she has to interrupt you and change the subject to do it.
d. Everything anyone says or does immediately evokes a sexual reference.
e. Despite the dazzling smile, the girlish laughter, the come-hither eyelash batting, the all-too-obvious low-cutness of the dress, and the inviting sexual undertone, one look into this woman's eyes reveals....nothing. Her eyes are dead; there's nothing there. That's your first hint that Lucy is a fucking psycho, and that no blowjob on Earth is worth that much trouble.
4. The Reluctant Traveler-This woman insists that she's only doing this because "my girlfriend made me", or "I had nothing better to do, so why not?", but she's playing a game that makes you want to reach across the table and fucking choke her within an inch of her life.
This date is a mental minefield; she's really toying with you in a passive-aggressive manner, dropping (often-contradictory) hints all the time -- because plain talk would blow her "cover". If you do manage to pick up a hint along the way and follow this thread past a certain point, she suddenly changes direction. It's a game of Encouragement-and-Discouragement, and it serves two purposes;
a. It's a test to see just how into her you are. This is judged by your willingness to play this stupid game; respond to her like panting puppy, and you might be getting somewhere...but not very far.
b. It's a test to see just how into you she is. Refuse to play her game, and you're toast. But, she will be nice about it and let you pick up the check, anyways.
In both cases, it's all about what She can get out of You. She's a selfish cunt, best given a wide berth, and perhaps a punch in the mouth.
Next, the Dates....Or, at least, the best of them so far.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
I Believe They Call it "Having Balls"...
This past week on My Island, a young Mexican man was subjected to a beating at the hands of four or five...ahem...Urban Youths, who shouted racial slurs, and robbed him of $10. It was, we're told, just the latest in a series of such attacks against Mexicans in recent months.
According to the local papers, the people in the neighborhood were, naturally, saddened and shocked...shocked...that such a terrible thing could happen in their neighborhood -- people who live in borderline-slums are somehow always shocked...go figure -- despite the fact that the neighborhood is often crawling with gun-toting, drug-dealing, gang-banging...ahem...Urban Youths...with little education, guidance from adults, or brains. The few whites who still live in Port Richmond are the last holdouts; like at Fort Apache. They are mostly working-class, or retired, who have been in the neighborhood for generations, or have no place else to go, and who remember a more romantic past before demographics and economics changed reality, but stay in the expectation that things will magically return to 1955 -- if you just wait around long enough.
The few remaining whites in Port Richmond should stop living in the past and take a good look around them; they couldn't get any more Third World if they had been dropped bodily in Zimbabwe. I'm surprised that most of them haven't realized they're basically one flush-toilet away from Bangladesh in some of these neighborhoods....except with aluminum siding.
By all accounts, the victim is a fucking saint. Described as a "good kid", "hard worker", and a student, who naturally, volunteered all his spare time with a local church anti-bias youth group. His immigration status is never mentioned --nor even hinted at -- in any news report. We're told that he wouldn't hurt a fly. Some in the...err...Recipient Class have already repeated the tired mantra that The Diversity are incapable of racism because they "have no political or economic power".
Yeah, Barack Obama is still pushing that one, too, and it still doesn't make any sense.
Maybe you have no Power because those who were supposed to even the playing field are now busy being investigated for all sorts of Ethics Violations, and potential criminal wrongdoing -- and you know who you are Charlies Rangel, Maxine Waters, Gregory Meeks, and Jesse Jackson Jr, amongst others. But that's a whole 'nother can o' worms.
What has really upset people in these parts was not so much that a bias crime took place against a minority that, if you believe the Mainstream Media, is suffering under a new-fangled Tea-Party-imposed Fourth Reich; the problem for most has been the response -- many would say, over-reaction -- of the so-called authorities.
The NYPD arrived on the scene of the attack in force. The NYPD has stayed in the neighborhood, in large numbers, even posting guards on the victim's home, and erecting portable watchtowers on his block. In effect, basically fortifying the street against another wave of knuckle-headed Urban Youth looking to put an ass-whippin' on another Mexican Boy. The only things missing are the bastions, barbed wire and the minefields.
The NYPD is great, the best there are, and make no mistake about it, but in these parts you don't get more than two cops to show up in the same place, at the same time, unless one of them has been shot, or Dunkin' Donuts just got the new batch of Boston Cremes out of the oven. To have a small army of police show up for what is, basically, a $10 mugging, smells of politics. To have them stay to guard the victim of a $10 mugging is nothing BUT politics.
But, just in case you thought the over-reaction couldn't get any worse, there's more. Courtesy, not of Der Fuhrer, Mayor Micheal Bloomberg, but of the the Mexican Government.
The Mexican Government has sent a representative to help the NYPD "co-ordinate" it's efforts to prevent bias crimes against it's citizens, and to encourage Mexican Nationals to come forward to report all manner of bias, be it real, imagined, or ginned-up for the purposes of extorting money and benefits from the City Government, and by extension, the U.S. Government. It should only be a day or two before Mexican Nationals living in the United States illegally will be complaining that the City of Nueva Jork doesn't provide enough food stamps to properly feed a "family" of 13 young men living on a pile of mattresses in an illegal basement rental. I can't wait until the Mexican Government "suggests" that Staten Island is a sink of racism, and that the remedy should be blanket Amnesty throughout the United States.
Naturally, the question "If the Mexican Government really cares that much about these people, then why are they HERE and not IN MEXICO?" has not been asked by any of our crackerjack press outlets or elected officials, who are apparently appalled at the shoddy treatment afforded the victim of an every-day street crime at the hands of a professional criminal class living on the government-and-media maintained mental Plantation. Talk about cojones? I'm wondering if the Mexican Government would allow the United States to set up a similar advocate for Americans living illegally in Mexico? I'm guessing the answer to that is not only "NO", but "FUCK NO", and besides, Mexico doesn't even have FOOD, let alone Food Stamps. It should maybe be noted that both the victim and his assailants are most likely living, in part, on some form of public assistance, and the significance of this will -- naturally -- be totally and completely missed by the politicos and fart-sniffing-lefties who -- they think -- run this city.
They're wrong; they don't run it at all. The Inmates Run the Asylum here, and this incident is just one more bit of evidence, in case you may have thought otherwise.
If a White Guy had been robbed of $10 by a bunch of Bubblegum Ganstas, beaten and called "Devil", a cop might have shown up within the hour to take a statement, tell you "There's not much we can do..." and ask you if you wanted some medical treatment, and that would have been the end of it. The Newspapers would not be interested, and despite what some might say, the cops wouldn't occupy the neighborhood looking for the assailants, nor guarding anyone's home as if it were Fort Fucking Knox.
And isn't it amazing that when -- for the first time in a very long time -- when there is perhaps a genuine incident of bias, the Reverend Al, Charles Baron, and all the rest of the race-baiting-do-nothing "Civil Rights" douchebags in this city are curiously silent, because the perpetrators are BLACK. Frankly, I'm glad they're silent because nothing they have to say benefits anyone. I'm sure once someone points out the hypocrisy publicly to the Rev, there will be some slapdash-thrown-together-at-the-last-minute "Peace Vigil", where the second-tier race baiters -- Black and Hispanic with an ultra-libtard token White Guy added for appearance's sake -- will sing Kumbaya, light candles, chant "Stop the Hate", and pose for the cameras. And it'll all be forgotten the following day for the sham that it all was, but Al can still say "I led a vigil against racism...".
I have been incredibly harsh on illegal immigrants in this space, and I shan't apologize for it. Fuck 'em; they don't belong here. Rather than see them beaten up and robbed of petty cash in the streets, though, I'd prefer they were all rounded up and sent back where they came from, and barring that, that some be shot at the border to discourage the greater mass. I'm also harsh on the Urban Aborigines, because, well, Fuck them, too. Slavery was abolished, you can fucking vote now, you can date white women without getting lynched, and half your "families" of seven-children-by-five-baby-daddies-who-won't-pay-child-support/are-in-jail live on the Public Tit, and in return all that comes back from that "investment" is crime, crumbling neighborhoods, failing schools, drug and child abuse, crowded jails, and packs of trigger-happy wild animals roaming the streets in baggy pants and dreadlocks playing Gangbanger.
These views will, in most "polite" quarters, get me branded as a "racist". Ask me if I give a shit. It's not racism if it happens to be true. To that squishy touchy-feely irrationally-guilty brand of libtard who throws that term around so freely, what really matters is not the thought (after all, they think it, too!) but that you had the "bad taste" to tell the truth publicly about a volatile sub-class that might pitch a riot. Riots are unseemly, and disrupt the supply of Brie and Chardonnay, and the fact that you are right about that Sub-Class only denies the Libtard the opportunity to lecture you in that condescending tone, in full I-look-down-my-nose-at-you mode. All a libtard ever really wants is to feel superior to you, even if he has to take up a position which makes him appear to be a complete idiot....and Chardonnay. But, I digress; back to the subject at hand.
I'm reminded of something that Kathy Shaidle at Five Feet of Fury often says (paraphrased):
"If only we'd just picked our own cotton..."
We can now add "Lettuce" to the list, too, I guess.
Maybe if more people faced the truth, a $10 mugging would not have become an international incident, and we wouldn't have yet one more piece of evidence to show the NAACP that the majority of racism these days comes from it's own people. Fuck, if people told the truth more often, there might not have been any $10 mugging of a Mexican with an ambiguous-immigration-status at all, and the NAACP might even cease to exist.
As of this morning, the police have arrested one of the alleged assailants, a15-year old boy. It is simply a matter of time before the kid talks. No matter how tough he thinks he might be, 15-year-olds are generally pussies when they don't have a posse behind them. Within a few hours, even the Staten Island cops (this is the borough where the NYPD sends those about-to-retire, or the borderline fuck-ups) will have the bulk, if not all, of the remaining assailants. All will be processed by the Criminal Justice System (such as it is)...and probably released on bail; it's only $10 and a black eye, for Chrissakes -- and they need the space in Sing-Sing for Charlie Rangel.
If the Mexican Government really wants to be useful here, and if it really cares that much about it's own citizens, then here's the opportunity; they can offer to pay the victim's freight back to whatever Mexican shithole he crawled out of, and they can offer to prosecute the assailants in Mexican courts and house them in Mexican jails. Otherwise, the Mexican Government should Shut the Fuck Up and guard it's own side of the fucking fence,and pay as much attention to the goings on in their own Country as they do to those in this Country. If I were the Mayor of New York City, and not the current Libtard-republican-by-virtue-of-it-being-the-cheapest-label-to-buy-effete-Patrician-Upper-East-Side bourgeois- pretentious-regal-douchebag Bloomberg, instead of sending the cops to guard The Victim's house, I'd send them to ask for his fucking Green Card.
According to the local papers, the people in the neighborhood were, naturally, saddened and shocked...shocked...that such a terrible thing could happen in their neighborhood -- people who live in borderline-slums are somehow always shocked...go figure -- despite the fact that the neighborhood is often crawling with gun-toting, drug-dealing, gang-banging...ahem...Urban Youths...with little education, guidance from adults, or brains. The few whites who still live in Port Richmond are the last holdouts; like at Fort Apache. They are mostly working-class, or retired, who have been in the neighborhood for generations, or have no place else to go, and who remember a more romantic past before demographics and economics changed reality, but stay in the expectation that things will magically return to 1955 -- if you just wait around long enough.
The few remaining whites in Port Richmond should stop living in the past and take a good look around them; they couldn't get any more Third World if they had been dropped bodily in Zimbabwe. I'm surprised that most of them haven't realized they're basically one flush-toilet away from Bangladesh in some of these neighborhoods....except with aluminum siding.
By all accounts, the victim is a fucking saint. Described as a "good kid", "hard worker", and a student, who naturally, volunteered all his spare time with a local church anti-bias youth group. His immigration status is never mentioned --nor even hinted at -- in any news report. We're told that he wouldn't hurt a fly. Some in the...err...Recipient Class have already repeated the tired mantra that The Diversity are incapable of racism because they "have no political or economic power".
Yeah, Barack Obama is still pushing that one, too, and it still doesn't make any sense.
Maybe you have no Power because those who were supposed to even the playing field are now busy being investigated for all sorts of Ethics Violations, and potential criminal wrongdoing -- and you know who you are Charlies Rangel, Maxine Waters, Gregory Meeks, and Jesse Jackson Jr, amongst others. But that's a whole 'nother can o' worms.
What has really upset people in these parts was not so much that a bias crime took place against a minority that, if you believe the Mainstream Media, is suffering under a new-fangled Tea-Party-imposed Fourth Reich; the problem for most has been the response -- many would say, over-reaction -- of the so-called authorities.
The NYPD arrived on the scene of the attack in force. The NYPD has stayed in the neighborhood, in large numbers, even posting guards on the victim's home, and erecting portable watchtowers on his block. In effect, basically fortifying the street against another wave of knuckle-headed Urban Youth looking to put an ass-whippin' on another Mexican Boy. The only things missing are the bastions, barbed wire and the minefields.
The NYPD is great, the best there are, and make no mistake about it, but in these parts you don't get more than two cops to show up in the same place, at the same time, unless one of them has been shot, or Dunkin' Donuts just got the new batch of Boston Cremes out of the oven. To have a small army of police show up for what is, basically, a $10 mugging, smells of politics. To have them stay to guard the victim of a $10 mugging is nothing BUT politics.
But, just in case you thought the over-reaction couldn't get any worse, there's more. Courtesy, not of Der Fuhrer, Mayor Micheal Bloomberg, but of the the Mexican Government.
The Mexican Government has sent a representative to help the NYPD "co-ordinate" it's efforts to prevent bias crimes against it's citizens, and to encourage Mexican Nationals to come forward to report all manner of bias, be it real, imagined, or ginned-up for the purposes of extorting money and benefits from the City Government, and by extension, the U.S. Government. It should only be a day or two before Mexican Nationals living in the United States illegally will be complaining that the City of Nueva Jork doesn't provide enough food stamps to properly feed a "family" of 13 young men living on a pile of mattresses in an illegal basement rental. I can't wait until the Mexican Government "suggests" that Staten Island is a sink of racism, and that the remedy should be blanket Amnesty throughout the United States.
Naturally, the question "If the Mexican Government really cares that much about these people, then why are they HERE and not IN MEXICO?" has not been asked by any of our crackerjack press outlets or elected officials, who are apparently appalled at the shoddy treatment afforded the victim of an every-day street crime at the hands of a professional criminal class living on the government-and-media maintained mental Plantation. Talk about cojones? I'm wondering if the Mexican Government would allow the United States to set up a similar advocate for Americans living illegally in Mexico? I'm guessing the answer to that is not only "NO", but "FUCK NO", and besides, Mexico doesn't even have FOOD, let alone Food Stamps. It should maybe be noted that both the victim and his assailants are most likely living, in part, on some form of public assistance, and the significance of this will -- naturally -- be totally and completely missed by the politicos and fart-sniffing-lefties who -- they think -- run this city.
They're wrong; they don't run it at all. The Inmates Run the Asylum here, and this incident is just one more bit of evidence, in case you may have thought otherwise.
If a White Guy had been robbed of $10 by a bunch of Bubblegum Ganstas, beaten and called "Devil", a cop might have shown up within the hour to take a statement, tell you "There's not much we can do..." and ask you if you wanted some medical treatment, and that would have been the end of it. The Newspapers would not be interested, and despite what some might say, the cops wouldn't occupy the neighborhood looking for the assailants, nor guarding anyone's home as if it were Fort Fucking Knox.
And isn't it amazing that when -- for the first time in a very long time -- when there is perhaps a genuine incident of bias, the Reverend Al, Charles Baron, and all the rest of the race-baiting-do-nothing "Civil Rights" douchebags in this city are curiously silent, because the perpetrators are BLACK. Frankly, I'm glad they're silent because nothing they have to say benefits anyone. I'm sure once someone points out the hypocrisy publicly to the Rev, there will be some slapdash-thrown-together-at-the-last-minute "Peace Vigil", where the second-tier race baiters -- Black and Hispanic with an ultra-libtard token White Guy added for appearance's sake -- will sing Kumbaya, light candles, chant "Stop the Hate", and pose for the cameras. And it'll all be forgotten the following day for the sham that it all was, but Al can still say "I led a vigil against racism...".
I have been incredibly harsh on illegal immigrants in this space, and I shan't apologize for it. Fuck 'em; they don't belong here. Rather than see them beaten up and robbed of petty cash in the streets, though, I'd prefer they were all rounded up and sent back where they came from, and barring that, that some be shot at the border to discourage the greater mass. I'm also harsh on the Urban Aborigines, because, well, Fuck them, too. Slavery was abolished, you can fucking vote now, you can date white women without getting lynched, and half your "families" of seven-children-by-five-baby-daddies-who-won't-pay-child-support/are-in-jail live on the Public Tit, and in return all that comes back from that "investment" is crime, crumbling neighborhoods, failing schools, drug and child abuse, crowded jails, and packs of trigger-happy wild animals roaming the streets in baggy pants and dreadlocks playing Gangbanger.
These views will, in most "polite" quarters, get me branded as a "racist". Ask me if I give a shit. It's not racism if it happens to be true. To that squishy touchy-feely irrationally-guilty brand of libtard who throws that term around so freely, what really matters is not the thought (after all, they think it, too!) but that you had the "bad taste" to tell the truth publicly about a volatile sub-class that might pitch a riot. Riots are unseemly, and disrupt the supply of Brie and Chardonnay, and the fact that you are right about that Sub-Class only denies the Libtard the opportunity to lecture you in that condescending tone, in full I-look-down-my-nose-at-you mode. All a libtard ever really wants is to feel superior to you, even if he has to take up a position which makes him appear to be a complete idiot....and Chardonnay. But, I digress; back to the subject at hand.
I'm reminded of something that Kathy Shaidle at Five Feet of Fury often says (paraphrased):
"If only we'd just picked our own cotton..."
We can now add "Lettuce" to the list, too, I guess.
Maybe if more people faced the truth, a $10 mugging would not have become an international incident, and we wouldn't have yet one more piece of evidence to show the NAACP that the majority of racism these days comes from it's own people. Fuck, if people told the truth more often, there might not have been any $10 mugging of a Mexican with an ambiguous-immigration-status at all, and the NAACP might even cease to exist.
As of this morning, the police have arrested one of the alleged assailants, a15-year old boy. It is simply a matter of time before the kid talks. No matter how tough he thinks he might be, 15-year-olds are generally pussies when they don't have a posse behind them. Within a few hours, even the Staten Island cops (this is the borough where the NYPD sends those about-to-retire, or the borderline fuck-ups) will have the bulk, if not all, of the remaining assailants. All will be processed by the Criminal Justice System (such as it is)...and probably released on bail; it's only $10 and a black eye, for Chrissakes -- and they need the space in Sing-Sing for Charlie Rangel.
If the Mexican Government really wants to be useful here, and if it really cares that much about it's own citizens, then here's the opportunity; they can offer to pay the victim's freight back to whatever Mexican shithole he crawled out of, and they can offer to prosecute the assailants in Mexican courts and house them in Mexican jails. Otherwise, the Mexican Government should Shut the Fuck Up and guard it's own side of the fucking fence,and pay as much attention to the goings on in their own Country as they do to those in this Country. If I were the Mayor of New York City, and not the current Libtard-republican-by-virtue-of-it-being-the-cheapest-label-to-buy-effete-Patrician-Upper-East-Side bourgeois- pretentious-regal-douchebag Bloomberg, instead of sending the cops to guard The Victim's house, I'd send them to ask for his fucking Green Card.
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