Welcome Taki's Mag Readers...

Thanks for stopping by, drawing a cup of stupidity and staying to read on for a bit more. Thanks even more for returning, as some you have. I like return customers.

We here at the Asylum strive to bring you only the most egregious examples of the 24-hour diseased monologue that takes place inside my 20-cc. brain.

Our helpful and cheerful Asylum elves, Lefty, Swifty, Bruno and Killah, will be more than happy to show you around the facilities, including our brand-spankin'-new restraining chairs and restroom-mounted Thorazine dispensers.

If you like what you read here, please, by all means, tell your friends and spare yourself the unfortunate consequences of a late-night visit from Dominick the Discipline Elf, a.k.a. The Midnight Marshmallow Strangler, formerly a member of Congress, and CEO of Wet Willie's Whoopie Cushions, Inc.

Regards,

Matthew

P.S. I have added a link to Taki's site on our Wall of Shame; I'm a fan of Kathy Shaidle's (despite the restraining order) and John Derbyshire's, and have been remiss in not posting a link to their latest endeavors sooner.

Because Every Puppy Needs a Tongue Post...

Staten Island Assemblywoman sponsors bill to outlaw the tattooing and piercing of pets.

You know, they say there's a special place reserved in Hell for people who abuse animals. I say we save the Devil the trouble and the Real Estate and just shoot anyone who goes in for such a thing.

I Am Woman, Hear Me Mooch...

The Obama Campaign Presents: The Life of Julia.

I’m certain this was the aim of feminism all along; creating a woman who is completely and utterly reliant upon the government to supply her with everything. Even a baby, apparently, because with no obvious husband in the picture one is left to wonder where the hell little Zachary came from.

"What Will People Like Us Do?"

Most likely? I'd say starve or die of exposure.

Potentially? Maybe you'll go back to whatever stinking Third World shithole vomited you up in the first place.

In my wildest dreams? Force you to make some effort to take care of yourself, and relieve the overburdened taxpayer of both that expense and at-arm's-length responsibility.

Happy @#%&-ing Birthday To Me....

Yes, yes, today is my Birthday. Number 45, to be exact, and I find that which each passing year I care less and less about the celebration. I have turned down at least two offers of a Birthday Dinner this week. I plan to stay in, watch the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and eat pizza. I have told Tess that a gift is totally unnecessary (and how much do you want to bet that she got one, anyway? Now I have to pretend to be surprised and all that, and I'm a rotten actor). The only concession being made in my Natal Anniversary Austerity Plan is for my seven year old nephew, who will demand to blow out my candles on the cake my sister will no doubt serve up over the weekend.

He still gets excited by birthdays, no matter who's birthday it is. Little kids are great that way.

I, on the other hand, am a grumpy old fart.

"Fake, But Accurate" Was Good Enough for Dan Rather...

I can just see some guy standing before a Sharia Court exclaiming, "But Your Honor, it was the only time she would hold still..."

Whoops! The whole "Muslim Necrophilia" thingy that I blogged about yesterday might be some kind of internet hoax.

Necrophilia, Egyptian-Style...

The next person who recycles that Leftard-approved trope about “all cultures being equally valid” within earshot of me is gonna get punched in the fucking mouth.

News from Egypt, Fountainhead of that New-Fangled, Oxymoronic Islamic Democracy Thingy we learn today that what passes for a Parliament there is considering a law that would make “Farewell Intercourse” with your wife a legal right.

I’m The New Clinton…

Meet the New Barack Obama; He's the Old Bill Clinton.

First he was Black Jesus. Then the reincarnation of Lincoln. Then he was the democratic version of Ronald Reagan. Now he’s the next Bill Clinton. Wait another month and he’ll be claiming to be the defender of all things Michael Dukakis. The week before Election Day, and he’ll probably be eagerly grasping the mantle of the Jimmy Carter that Jimmy Carter could never be.