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.

Unfortunately, We're Not Allowed To Shoot Them On Sight

As the three regular readers of this insane screed know, I watch entirely too much television. I usually watch "the good stuff", that is to say, documentaries, History Channel, Fox News, Discovery this-that-and-the-other, and my fave hit series on HBO and stuff (Yay! Game of Thrones is back!).

But ever since I began co-habitating with the lovely Tess Trueheart (a.k.a. my girlfriend) my television viewing habits have been radically altered. For Tess is a devotee of the genre of programming called "Reality Television".

Personally, if this is what reality looks like then something is seriously wrong with America. So wrong, in fact, that one begins to have -- against one's best judgement, too -- feelings that the old-style Progressives (you know, the ones who advocated euthanasia and forced sterilization of "inferior" people?) might just have had a point, after all.

The Presidential Q&A I'd Love To Hear....

The Scene: President Frequent-Flyer-Miles has just hopped off the golf course, and is attending another of those staged-political-event-cum-Nuremberg-rallies of his, this time in the crucial swing state of (insert name of state with large percentage of complete doofuses who voted for this jerkoff the last time around). He is introduced by the local democratic congresscritter with a gusto that is entirely forced, and probably lubricated by at least a fifth of Johnny Walker Black, and enters the room to the sounds of free-malt-liquor-and-skittles-enhanced applause from a crowd of people who wouldn't understand a word he will eventually say if you gave them a continuous, three-week-long Miriam-Webster enema beforehand.

Crazy Lady Sues New York For $900 Trillion...

Yep, you've read that right: that's 900 trillion dollars.


That's 60 times the current National Debt.

That's 64.28571 times the annual Gross National Product of the entire United States.

That's almost 15,000 times the entire budget for the City of New York.

If you lined up 900 trillion dollars bills, end-to-end, it would stretch...well, pretty damned far, I reckon!

That is the sum a Staten Island woman is suing the City of New York for, in a lawsuit over her children.

If This Is What Real Life Looks Like…

...then we're all screwed, blued, and tattooed.

I am a voracious consumer of television. I don’t know specifically when this bad habit started, I only know that television is a part of about half my normal day. I watch the news religiously (thank that non-existent deity for Fox) and The History Channel, and most sporting events (hockey and football) are about as close to a religious experience as I can manage.

My television viewing habits used to be quite selective, but this has changed since I have taken up residence with my new/old girlfriend. Her viewing habits are, shall we say, not quite as discerning as mine. This fact has led me to a whole slew of new viewing experiences that, quite frankly, cause me to fear for the future of the human species.

Throwing Money at a Moral and Ethical Problem Never Works...

Paying 'The Poor' to be better parents? How much you wanna bet most of that money went to crack, malt liquor and home pregnancy tests instead?


There are specific reasons why most 'Poor' people a) get -- and stay --that way, and b) are bad parents: they're stupid, and were mostly (not) raised by other stupid people. Giving them money to not be stupid hasn't worked for 50 years, but I guess some Libtard had his panties in a bunch and was determined, despite all that long experience with the Welfare State, to keep on trying.

This Is Why You Should Never, Ever, Donate Bodily Fluids...

...unless there is a deep level of personal commitment. I wouldn't even think of giving mine to someone who wouldn't, at the very least, make me breakfast before she left, and then didn't make the effort to forget my address or phone number.

And if you can't make the delivery yourself in the time-honored fashion, then you don't want anything to do with being a sperm donor, either. It's not worth it if there's a turkey baster involved. If your recipients are a pair of lesbian chicks you wouldn't fuck without a steel-reinforced concrete condom and a fifth of Johnny Black, then you probably don't even want to be in the same house with that womb. If one of them lists her occupation as 'clairvoyant' and 'funeral celebrant', you definitely don't sell your seed for anything less than your weight in gold, and even then, you might think twice.

Here's another argument against Gay Marriage (as if the anti- argument wasn't already self-evident): how do you redefine 'Fatherhood' when the Warm-and-Fuzzies wear off between the Primaries, and you have to consider the rights of the gamete donor in the 'divorce'?

I feel for this guy, because he has been a father in all respects, it would seem. Especially financially; this pair of carpet-munchers wanted children, but children that someone else would pay for, looks like. This guy paid for the pre-natal care, the midwife, child support, and even offered housing to the mother and the defective she was playing house with. The child, to the...ahem...women, appears but a prop in their bullshit 'lifestyle choice' kabuki play.

He even offered to build them all a house to live in!
I hope this guy can get his daughter away from this pair of ding-dongs.

Good Lord, Make it Stop!

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This Guy Knows His Shit...

Staten Island man defecates on his girlfriend's door, then sets it on fire.

Was I the only one NOT shocked to discover that this cretin's street name is "Illuminati'?

Observation:

If this man had smeared a mud monkey upon the front door of a democratic Congresswoman, the airwaves would be burning up about the fecocentric slant of our overheated political rhetoric, which encourages violence against pregnant women. Five minutes later, the Feminazis would chime in, and tell you that had His Main Squeeze simply had unfettered access to a free abortion, he wouldn't have smeared shit on the front door. The Safety Nazis will then get their two cents in, and decide that society is too dangerous to let people handle butane lighters, and then they'll demand that elevators be reduced in size so as to preclude the possibility of anyone stripping in them.

This brain surgeon was arrested by the police and placed in a cell, where he promptly shit again. In another eight or nine months when this guy finally goes to trial (because it takes that long for the District Attorney to sharpen his crayon to fill in the proper forms), his Public Defender will enter an insanity plea on his client's behalf, and our crack (-smoking) Judicial Lions will sentence the accused to about 30 days in a halfway house, because God forbid we label him a lunatic and stick him in a state hospital. That's damaging to his self-esteem, and costs money, you know.

Never mind the other potential charges (which the D.A. hasn't actually charged him with, you'll note): four or five counts of attempted murder, arson, creating an unsanitary condition, and being a complete asswipe (which isn't a crime, hence Sen. Chucky Schumer, but it should be), this man needs the sort of serious psychiatric attention that one simply can't get at a NY state institution because we have instead used the money the Loony Bin used to get to ensure that transgenedered illegal immigrants can get free falsies at state expense, and because Sanitation Workers need to be able to retire at 31 with a million-dollar pension, and free medical. Besides, Geraldo Rivera made sure the words "Mental Institution" are on par with what you can't say about certain minority groups here in New York, the asshole, so that Institutionalism is no longer the preferred manner of dealing with the batshit-insane.

Forget about shooting them in self-defense. Mayor Bloomdouche will get his panties in a knot, and the cops will charge you with all sorts of Terrorist Activities. Because if there's any real terorrists in New York, it's those people who insist on exercising their Second Amendment Rights. And even if you used the very gun you bought from the ATF here from Mexico with you, that's not an excuse.

On day 31, having been released on an out-patient basis to save money, The Turdbomber (as I call him) will be right back at his paramour's door, only this time determined to do the job properly. Because she's probably no smarter than he -- after all, she's having his child, and I'm certain this isn't the first episode she's witnessed -- and is probably dependant upon State Housing Assistance, to judge from the neighborhood (I know it well), she'll still be there, and all the restraining orders in the world not avail to keep her, and her children, safe from this genius.

Mark my words: a year from now, the headline will read "Insane Douchebag Smears Feces on Baby-Mama's Door, Burns Down Her Building, 24 Feared Dead. Judge says "Ooops!""

Forget the frickin' trial, it's a mere formality. Lock this lunatic right the fuck up and throw away the key.

"Princess Boys"...

This is what happens when you treat your children as a fashion accessory,or project your unfulfilled dreams and aspirations upon them, and you encourage behavior in them for the purposes of writing a freakin' book, because that's easier than working for a living.


You are not a parent; you are a little girl playing at Barbie Dolls...with Penises. Which, I'm led to understand that Barbie's supposedly-hetero-male counterpart, Ken, does not have.

Now, does letting your son wear a dress and forcing him to take ballet classes against his will for your own personal edification produce a well-adjusted child?

Take a look at the potential future mayor of Chicago, and you tell me.

But, I digress...

feel sorry for this little boy, because he obviously has a mother who is a dumbass, and one is left wondering "Where the fuck is this kid's father?", and, "Why hasn't he smacked the shit out of his Baby Momma yet?"

Now, kids go through phases; we all know this. It's quite possible this child will outgrow his passion for pink and purple frilly things. I certainly hope that he does, but it's going to be difficult when his mother is a pretentious moron with a political agenda, and less native intelligence than one normally associates with a garden snail. She's found herself a Golden Goose in our therapeutic culture, and one gets the impression that we have another ersatz "expert" in the making; you know, those people the newsdouches turn to for answers to obscure questions on obscure subjects that no one wants answered, but that some idiot producer thinks would make an awesome "human interest" story.

"Mom" is in the process of making a career for herself out of her child's idiosyncracies. In any context except within the touchy-feely world of the drum-circle-diversity-inclusion industry, this would be called "exploitation".

Watching this video, it's obvious that the mother is little more than this kid's puppet master: she has to encourage the kid to speak (almost like she's giving him permission to do so) when Meredith Viera (damn that woman still looks good after all these years) asks him a question, and then usually ends up answering it for him. Edgar Bergen was a rank amateur compared to this doofus, who should be taken out and shot for the rankest and most egregious child abuse.

Seriously, if your boys are wearing dresses, and it ain't for the school play, or a Halloween costume, and they're above the age of 3; you've got a problem.

Normal parents who recognize their child has a problem take them to doctors, or take corrective action on their own. They don't write look-at-me books and go on the Today Show.

(H/T JammieWearingFool).

Snowbound!

There is approximately 3 feet of snow outside the front door this morning. I don't think it actually snowed that much, but the wind has piled drifts that high just about everywhere. I can see no cars on the street;the streets are unplowed, and the parked cars are buried except for little bits of color, or perhaps a side-view mirror sticking out of the drifts.

I was just saying to my nephews on Christmas Day, that it would be a good idea to rent a snow-blower from the local tool rental in anticipation of this storm, so that we could spend the first day afterwards making a killing on driveways and walkways, but they had no enthusiasm for the project, and then I didn't get the chance to actually put the plan into action. Now I'm kicking myself: the opportunity to make several hundred dollars (cash!) this day has gone right out the window.

I wish Al Gore were here right now so that I could push his face into the snow. I'd grab him by the back of his toupee, and hold his head inside a drift, and yell "What was that about global warming, Fuckface!? Huh? What was that about fucking polar bears?" Then I'd bitchslap him a few times and send him home crying to his mother. After I took his lunch money.

Oh, and speaking of mothers...

Mine was in rare form last night. She's one of those people upon whom television actually works. Let me explain that; if there's an announcement of impending holocaust transmitted over the airwaves, she'll buy it, hook, line and sinker. There will be no personal analysis of the information, no thought given to it's veracity, no attempt to put the announcement in context, no need to go to a different source to verify this or that stated "fact", no critical thinking skills involved, whatsoever. If it was on television, it must be true, and cannot be argued against.

And so it was that last night's overwrought, overdone wall-to-wall weather reporting which would have had you believing the Earth was entering a new Ice Age, worked it's fear-mongering magic upon her. (Just why is it that every local TV station must do this? They interrupt normal programming to give you an over-the-top, fear-injected five-hour weather report -- with other assholes in parkas and microphones standing at strategic locations to tell you how the bread lines are at the supermarkets -- to tell you what you already know: It's snowing outside...a lot).

I happened to be out last night. My friends are in New York from Britain for the holidays, and I haven't seen them for over a year. In fact, I barely get to see any of my friends, at all. They all live in different cities, states, and even countries. A little thing like a snowstorm wasn't keeping me home. Besides, this is New York; unlike most other places that either completely shut down in a snowstorm, or where complete pandemonium breaks out after a light dusting, we New Yorkers can deal with snow. Even two feet of it with 60-mph winds. If you can't, you're a pussy.

Get yourself some boots, dammit.

So, there I am, getting ready to enjoy a lovely evening, with lovely people, and...mother keeps calling their hotel room. She managed to get through twice, but that's only because the first three times she tried she had the wrong number. The Television Weather Report had achieved it's goal of making a winter snowstorm (like they never happen?) seem like the Apocalypse. Mom is now worried that I won't be able to get home, and every minute that goes by brings more dire and dreadful predictions and pronouncements from the Weather Chick on Channel 4 Whom I'd Like to Fucking Strangle Now.

Note to all my readers who may not have known this previously: your local weatherdouche gets his/her information from the National Weather Service. The Weather Service is actually pretty good at collecting information about weather and weather patterns, BUT, despite all of their Accu-weather-this, and Doppler-4000-that, you cannot get a weather report that is accurate to within 4 hours, give or take. This means that the idiot on the television giving you the temperature, and prognosticating over the prospects of rain and snow probably provides information as accurate as you could get by simply sticking your fucking head out the window.

And since his/her information comes from the same Federal Government that pays $400 for toilet paper and considers forced redistribution of wealth to drug addicts, career baby mamas, and people who just plain don't give a shit to be an anti-poverty program, well, you can just imagine how accurate your weather reporting actually is, despite all the super-expensive high-tech whizzbangery involved.

You see, Mom was frightened to death by the doom monger before the green-screen map. However, because she's my mother -- and that means she's a neurotic mess -- what worried her the most was that even if had successfully made the Odyssean journey from Manhattan to Staten Island, I might arrive at a time when the front door would be snowed shut by an accumulation of snow at it's base.

I'll repeat that: my mother was scared out of her fucking skull that I would be snowed out of my own house, and that I just might not be smart or motivated enough to dig through to the front door, if I really needed to. I suppose she thought I would, upon finding the door buried in snow, simply curl up on the doorstep and accept my fate quietly, like a dying Alpha Wolf in those nature documentaries. Or maybe she thought I would stand there for several hours like a nose-picking moron at a complete loss as to what to do, whereupon I would freeze to death. That would be embarrassing...for her. Her friends would all say, "My, how strange...he froze to death just feet from his own front door...The poor boy."

But first, she'd enjoy all the attention she'd get at the funeral.

So there it is; dinner plans shot to hell. My first night out in about a month, wasted. An opportunity to see friends that live 3,000 miles away frittered away; I've been cheated by a conspiracy of foul weather and a mother who lays awake all night in a panic that the front door will never be open ever again.

Maybe I'll bury her in the snow, and let Al Gore off with a Wet-Willie?

Scene from A Supermarket...

This morning I had reason to do some food shopping at a local ShopRite store. Normally, I don't do the grocery shopping around here, except for the occasional "Ooops! We're all out of X!" kind of shopping, but my Mother is recovering from her knee replacement, and so this duty now falls upon me.

I was armed with a list, and a bad attitude, that left me very little patience for anyone this morning, as this is something I really don't like to do, but hell, I like to eat, too.

So, there I am, looking the douchebag, pushing a shopping cart up and down the isles very carefully following the list (because if I forget something, or get the wrong thing, I have to listen to a symphony of whining and complaining, because I'm a useless retard, you see. Mother doesn't actually come out and say that, but from her demeanor you know she's thinking it. The older she gets, the more aggravating and ungrateful she becomes. Anyways, while I'm re-enacting my Hunter-Gatherer heritage in the modern day, air-conditioned landscape of the supermarket, I caught sight of "Bertha".

Now, I don't know if her name really is "Bertha"; it's just that when I saw this incredibly massive lump of humanity, that's the name that popped into my head for her. She looked like a blob of raw cookie dough on thick, stumpy I-think-you'd-call-them legs. Easily 150 pounds overweight, she had more chins than a Chinese phone book, and she quite possibly might be the only women in the world that could make a cement floor creak. You could hear her thighs rubbing together as she stumped past. I never knew denim could make that kind of sound, or was that heat-resistant. I could have sworn that she might burst into flames from friction at any moment.

Bertha has four children in tow. Two of them, probably 8 or 9 years of age, are the sort one might associate with a Charles Dickens novel; they are dirty, given to outbursts (with especially-foul language for children so young). They are dressed shabbily. The older of the two, a boy, looks the sort who tortures animals for fun, and one day will grow up to be a convicted felon. The second, a girl, appears as if the words "toothpaste" and"dentist" are not to be found in her vocabulary. She has a set of protruding buck teeth that hang over her lower lip, and if you really had to, you could probably open a beer bottle on them.

The two younger children (perhaps 4 or 5 years old), have a hunted appearance. They are sullen, and silent. One is a habitual nose-picker, and the other has the most grotesque birthmark (I should hope it's a birthmark!) that covers the left side of his face from ear to cheekbone. They too are filthy, and appear underfed.

"Bertha", however, is resplendent in that trailer-park-ghetto sort of way; she's got bling. She's got cornrows festooned with multi-colored beads, a gold tooth or two, and has more rings than Saturn. She's also wearing a gold medallion on a chain that reminded me of a hood ornament. The Bluetooth headset hangs from her ear, and she's talking a mile-a-minute, jabbering in the Urban Patois, sprinkled liberally with the word "muthahfuckah". I would say "muthafuckah" and it's variations constituted every third or fourth word in the one side of the conversation that I could hear.

I would see "Bertha" and her herd every few minutes. Perhaps five or six times during my meandering up and down the isles. She's always talking, stopping only occasionally to threaten one of the kids who's misbehaving, or perhaps just to stop for breath. The little kids are riding on the wagon's rails, until she swats them off because, she complains, she "can't push this muthafuckin' cart with your asses hanging all over it." The older boy and girl are breaking packages open as the little brood wanders the market, pilfering food when their...ahem...mother...isn't looking. The smaller boy manages to bring an entire case of apples down when he grabs one from the bottom, spilling them all over the Produce section's floor. He's about to take a bite when he gets slapped across the face. Not because he's stolen something, mind you, but because he's "embarrassed" her in public by making a mess that the store manager might make her pay for.

I run into "Bertha" again at the checkout counter. She is in the next isle. Still talking, still spraying the "muthafuckahs" between short intervals of yelling at her children, who are now into the candy at the register. "Bertha" has $211.00 of groceries. She "pays" for them with Food Stamps, and leaves, while I'm still being "rung up".

My last sight of "Bertha" was in the parking lot, as she drove by in her tricked-out Navigator, complete with what I like to call "Ben-Hur hubcaps"; those chrome monstrosities that have a sort of spiked hub protruding from them, and of course, the counter-rotating food-processor-like blades on the interior of the wheel. I can see the seat-back DVD players...plural. The last sight I get of them as they leave is the nose-picker, his face plastered against the glass of the rear passenger window, and he's got that Thousand Yard Stare that one normally associates with an infantryman in combat.

It struck me, for perhaps the ten-thousandth time this year, that "Bertha" is probably what democrats call "working poor". People who use food stamps, and utilize more social services than one might imagine actually exist, but who somehow manage to afford cellphones, Navigators with DVD players, and enough bling to finance a small country. They're so "poor" that they're grossly obese, their distended bellies the result of too much KFC instead of the ravages of malnutrition.

We have the first generation of "poor" on Planet Earth who are overfed, and suffering from diabetes and food allergies, I'll bet.

The Welfare System in this country no longer exists to help people in need, or to provide for people who cannot do so for themselves; it now subsidizes a lifestyle in which it is no longer necessary to even make an attempt to provide for yourself, and the neglected children you've borne, while you go out and somehow (probably illegally) obtain the means to load yourself up with gold and luxury automobiles.

"Poverty" no longer means deprivation; it's only a relative comparison of obvious material wealth. The "Rich" and the "Poor" all have the same things: automobiles, cellphones, fattening food, cable television, air conditioning. It's just that the "Poor" don't have to work for it, and the "Rich" are compelled to provide it for them by the State.

The problem with all this "Tax Cut" talk in Washington these days isn't that the Rich "have too much". It's that the "Poor" can't be maintained in the lifestyle to which they've become accustomed, complete with SUV's and free food, if the government can't take (steal) enough money away from those who earn it.

Just don't expect that simple truth to be told during the "debate" over the "Bush Tax Cuts", which itself is a serious -- and deliberate -- misnomer.

"Jewish Money"

I would not have believed it, had I not read it. A democratic (small "d"intentional) Congressional Candidate calls his opponent out for taking campaign contributions from Jews. Are you serious? The party that worries that Hispanics might be racially-profiled apparently has no problem with open and obvious Anti-Semetism.

Against one of their own, too. Micheal Grimm is, nominally, a democrat challenging McMahon in a primary race.

Mike McMahon is a slimeball, and I'm ashamed that he's my Congressman (but I didn't vote for the POS). By comparison, his predecessor, Vito Fosella -- he of the DWI and Baby Momma --was a class fucking act. Had Vito managed to keep his pants zipped, and to call a fucking cab, he'd still be in office.

Now, one of the more amazing aspects of this Congressional race is that McMahon's opponents seem to be invisible. One of them, Micheal Grimm, is little more than a name on a sign in this neighborhood; he's never on television, you hardly ever see him or his name in the newspaper.

The other challenger, Micheal Allegretti, once flooded the airwaves with a commercial in which he never mentions his party affiliation. I have not seen that commercial, or anything Allegretti-related, for several months now. That tells me that these guys shot their bolts, Grimm never getting started, and Allegretti spending all his money running introduction-ads-with-no-information in fucking January-through-March ... and nothing since. I wrote about him, too, here and here.

The Staten Island GOP apparatus is so dysfunctional that it should probably be taken out and shot. It's dominated by cronyism, and if someone named "Molinari" isn't running for office, it's at a complete loss. The local Tea Party seems to be full of people I would eagerly cross the street to avoid -- what one might call the One-percenters, Buchannanites, or The Pantybunched Wing -- who have all the virtues of a broken clock; they might still be right twice a day only, but the rest of the time they're fucking useless and collecting dust. It's not that they're wrong on many issues, so much as it is them being such unattractive people; they whine, incessantly, and when they write articles, make blog posts,or a few dozen of them show up for a protest, you get the impression that someone with a 3rd-grade reading level is attempting to channel his inner Tom Paine. Listening to these people, one gets the distinct impression that they remember 1787 -- because they might have fucking been there. For the most part, these are the same people who remember when this island had dairy farms, and they had to walk to school through waist-high-snow, in bare feet, uphill, both ways, everything cost a nickle, the word "prostate"was never uttered in polite company, a lady never let her ankles show under her hoopskirt, and you could put a lawn jockey out in front of the house without having your racial beliefs, or taste, challenged or even questioned.

They tend to divide history into two distinct epochs; Before the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, and After-The-Bridge, when the Midwestern Music-Man Schtick of Staten Island was finally destroyed by the legions of "Guineas Crossing the Gangplank", as we say in these parts. The Staten Island Tea Party is probably a bigger waste of time for this very reason than watching yet another Obama-Potemkin "Recovery Summer" Speech at a government-funded factory that got stimulus funds to hire a buttload of workers to NOT produce any salable product (see: Chevy Volt, electric car batteries that don't actually exist, platinum-plated solar panels, etc). But I digress....

I guess what I'm getting to is that McMahon will probably win by default, and the double-standard will be forgotten in the aftermath of his victory -- a flagrant Anti-Semitic statement was made against American citizens exercising their rights to support the candidate of their choice, while McMahon and his party simultaneously court the illegal alien "vote" that is a sign of a coming Amnesty-by-another-name, and try to frighten them into the democratic fold with visions of Concentration Camps full of landscapers named "Manuel".

And there's nary a republican nor a real Tea Party to challenge him, and not a single voice in his own party was raised to rebuke him, or his campaign. A sad state of affairs, all around.

If blatant, but carefully-crafted, anti-Semitism from the Party of Diversity wasn't enough, we get the aptly-named Anthony Weiner putting on a five-star douchebag performance on the House floor. Weiner is little more than a second-rate machine politico with a voice and personality that could curdle motor oil...used motor oil. He's simply a Chuck Schumer-wanna-be who can't even match the sense of immediate revulsion one acquires as soon as Schumer's oily visage pollutes the television screen. Instead, Weiner engenders the slightly embarrassed and disgusted feeling one might associate with an enema. In keeping with the whole "Weiner" meme, he is what we used to refer to in Brooklyn as a Dildo -- a great big phony dick.

That virtuoso display of complete and utter bullshit had nothing to do with the health of the First Responders. Quite frankly, given the recent propensity of the local newspapers to run stories about firemen declared disabled by 9/11 lung problems who somehow manage to win Triathlons a decade later, and attach themselves to new lawsuits as a second job, the plight of some of those First Responders is beginning to look a bit contrived and exaggerated; many of them are now retired, and collecting huge pensions and lump sums from lawsuits and government payout plans. Here's another $7.5 billion that's going to people who are living quite well, thank you, and the few (relatively few) who are suffering serious long-term health problems probably have diamond-encrusted bedpans by now.

Here I am, having lost six years of my life to the after-effects of 9/11, and I've never seen -- nor been eligible for -- a solitary dime of any of this money,whether from the legal settlements, or the government handouts, because I wasn't a) a city worker who already had a gold-plated benefits package, and b) I was stupid enough to pay for my own medical insurance...instead of having that money extorted from the taxpayer, and c) One block north of the "cut-off point" when the towers actually fell. Am I glad that NYC has the finest Police and Firefighters in the world, and that they were available on 9/11? You bet your ass, I am. But you know what? In this day-in-age when the public unions are bankrupting governments all across the country with their pension and benefits packages, when is enough enough?

I used to think these guys deserved every penny they got. Now, after regularly seeing a shitload of them lining up at the local City Health Department offices for"9/11 testing" (yes, I'm still doing that, too), driving up in their restored vintage Mustangs, Custom Vans, Corvettes and Escalades, and talking about their (2nd this summer) weekend in Atlantic City or Vegas, the new "on-the-side" roofing business, the seven rounds of golf they shot this week, and the new 50" flatscreen in the bathroom -- next to the hot tub -- I'm not so sure some of them aren't scamming us.

(And yes,those are the subjects of the conversation these guys have while they're waiting for chest x-rays, a blood test, and a pile of paperwork for Workman's Comp).

Weiner's tirade was simply an opportunity to do what Republicans did to democrats for eight years, and wave the bloody shirt of 9/11 in their faces for a change. The fact that he's an asshole just took it to another level that makes you want to shit....but only after you've first beaten the snot out of Weiner. It's disingenuous, because Weiner doesn't really give a shit about sick firemen and cops; he's only thinking of running for Mayor after he's gets tossed out of Congress.

Anyways, now the entire country gets to see the genetic mistakes we've sent to Congress from this State, and it's enough to make you want to move to New Jersey, even if the taxes ARE higher.

T'was Only a Matter of Time....

...before the porn-star Baby Mamas started coming out of the woodwork. Warning: some of this might not be safe for work. As if the man didn't have enough problems in his life, the Daily News goes and publishes 92 selected photos of his boot-knockin' partners in sexy poses.

If I were Tiger Woods, I'd be running back to the Fortress of Solitude that is rehab.

And if that wasn't bad enough, it only begins to get infinitely worse: there's more than one porn "actress" involved. and allegations are flying that some of these...ahem...choice conquests ...were given hush money, probably to keep quiet about the fact that -- off the golf course at least -- Tiger might swing both ways. Allegedly.

Now, I have no sympathy for Tiger Woods because his pain is mostly self-inflicted, and his oh-so-carefully-selected menagerie of paramours makes it crystal clear that he has (or had) a serious drug problem (people who aren't under the influence or insane do not make these sorts of choices, or attract this particular class of women). At some point, though, this could all end if the man would just disappear-- he has the money to do so -- but he just won't go away. The cost of that kind of ego is that his peccadilloes will be made public -- drip-drip-drip -- like a Chinese water torture.

You would expect that at some point common sense (and a sense of shame!) would kick in and Tiger would fade away, because the longer he stays in the spotlight -- or struggles to get back into it -- the more we'll be seeing this endless parade of pathetic gold-digging sluts, many with a reputation for deviant sexual practices involving unnatural violations perpetrated by multiple partners, which brings us all one step closer to the Apocalypse.

I'm a guy and even my "fuck-anything-that-moves-male-sexual-reflex" is repulsed by just the thought of some of the...festivities...these women have done to in order to "earn a living" in the porn "Industry"(yeah, like none of you has ever seen a porn video, right?)

You wonder who will win this race; will Tiger's perseverance, stubbornness and sense of entitlement, his steadfast belief that his "image" (and therefore, his fame and fortune) can be rehabilitated eventually be overtaken by the flood of embarrassing activities -- and personages -- that got him into this mess in the first place? Or are we watching the slow death-spiral of The Man Who Had it All But Threw It Away?

Who gives a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut? I have my own problems to deal with, thank you.
This is still funny as hell, though.

UPDATE: Link to Tiger's Rogues Gallery of Tawdry Encounters fixed.

You Know, This Might Be Why More People Don't Vote...

There is a commercial running in my neck of the woods, these days. A nicely-dressed young man, filmed in extreme close-up so that he's nothing but a gigantic head-and-tie shot, tells you that He's Michael Allegretti, and he's running for Congress form New York's 13th District (Staten Island and South Brooklyn). The commercial is poorly done; it's not very informative, all you get is that Allegretti isn't a democrat, and it's on three times an hour. About the only good thing you can say about it is that he at least hints that democrats might be slightly less-attractive than influenza.

You can see the commercial at Allegretti's website. Just hang about a second, and the video will pop up on ya...along with a request for cash.

I have some problems with this sort of political advertising, because it's obviously contrived.

Allegretti bemoans the "out of control" democrats in Washington, but never says what his own party affiliation is. Not even on his website. In the first reference vis-a-vis party affiliation I could find, Allegretti describes himself in the New York Post as "an independent fiscal conservative". My, if that isn't purposely vague for a reason, I don't know what is! It's brilliant marketing, at least: he hits all the right buzzwords -- independent, fiscal conservative. He avoids any references to either the Republican or Tea Parties -- but it's not exactly clear if he's a Republican, Libertarian, or more likely, Rich Opportunist. It's almost as if you might be hiding something.

I've begun to notice a trend in political advertising here in recent years. There is a tendency in New York for many political candidates to not even make a mention of their political party affiliations, if they can avoid it. You don't see it mentioned on the television commercials, on the websites, on the campaign posters or literature -- you have to do some research to find out "R" or "D" -- and now I'm beginning to wonder if this might not be a common occurrence elsewhere; hiding your party affiliation on purpose. If anyone has seen some political advertising for a candidate lately, please let me know if they're all hiding their party affiliation now.

Incidentally, both Allegretti and democrat Michael Grimm (trying to mount a primary challenge to Congressbeast Mike McMahon) are taking great pains to make sure you know that neither is part of the Party machine (either party), and neither of them likes to use the words "Republican" or "Democrat", unless they can do so to denigrate the current political culture while making certain the words aren't applied to themselves. They are taking Populist stands and talking the Populist talk, but both are amateurish. They don't look believable when they play Populist, and you get the idea it's all a fantasy -- or a scam. This must be that new-and-improved brand of politics we've been hearing all about; shout loudly, look like a regular Joe, hit all the buzzwords in the interview, say nothing that might hurt you,or worse, inform someone, or even pin you to a position.

Would I vote for Mr. Allegretti? Based on his website, not really. Based on a crappy commercial and a campaign persona that seems tailor made by the best political advertising folks money can buy (Mr. Allegretti's family owns one of the largest Fuel Oil delivery companies in New York State), and a guy who claims he's not one of those "Washington" types, but trumpets all of his political accomplishments; He one of those guys who organizes political dinners, symposiums and gabfests, and even boasts what's probably intended to be a hint of an endorsement from Tony Blair -- the former LIBERAL Prime Minister of Britain. Like that matters to New Yorkers?


Oh, and he says New York Mayor Mike Bloomberg likes him, too. That pretty much takes you off my 10,000,000 Best Friend's List, Pal. Any Friend of Bloomberg's is an Enemy of the People.

Anyways, Allegretti is running against Micheal McMahon, the anal-retentive democrat who was tapped in an emergency election after Vito Fossella got himself caught with a Baby Mamma and a DUI. McMahon has accomplished but one thing; he said "NO" to ObamaCare, which is pretty much what this entire Island said to it. He may have the smell of "democrat" stuck to him, but he at least has the distinction of being brave enough to stand up to Nancy, Harry and Barack. I still wouldn't vote for him, either, as right about now "Democrat" comes in on my list just after "Cross-dressing Nazis" and just before "AIDS-carrying Pedophiles" on my list of "People I'd Really, Really Love To Invite to My Fondue Party".

The other candidate is a guy named Micheal Grimm, and unfortunately, he's a democrat, too. He's a veteran, though, so at least he gets some brownies for that, but when given a choice between Democrat, Democrat, Some Guy Who Thinks He's Really Slick, and Ebola, I'm taking the Ebola -- it's the best choice on the menu..

I'll be looking out to see if either democrat identifies himself as such, especially the guy who served in Iraq, because I have a feeling that while he's trying to strike the Populist tone of "for the Working Man", he'll probably only attract the usual crowd of democrat fringe elements -- the people who are STILL fighting over the War in Iraq -- and he won't accomplish anything except to split the dimwit vote in the primary.

We have a Tea Party here on Staten Island, and I've even popped over to their blog (it's here on Blogger) a few times to see what's going on. But I shan't join it, if only because they guy who posts on it sounds as if he's always in great pain....or maybe he just really has to pee really, really badly. All the time. Like he's constantly in one of those dreams where you're sliding down a banister naked, and it suddenly turns into a razor blade...and there's a vat of lemon juice and Tabasco sauce at the bottom of the stairs, just waiting for you. I swear, that man's sphincter is probably puckered so tight that he might need a colostomy bag. You can check it out, if you like, but I usually ignore anything they have to say -- even if I agree with it. I just don't like HOW he says it. It's like he's menstrual or something.

Anyways, there's going to be a primary here in Staten Island on the dem side, and then a general election in November, to see which of these three idiots gets to be our next Congresscritter. I'm so excited I could shit. Not really -- I'm apathetic for the following reason; at this point in history, when the People of this Country have an enormous opportunity to truly change the way this government does business (by tossing all the bums out, and demand that the Constitution be enforced and respected), our local political parties produce this line up of losers, or, they allow rich boys with an apparent aversion to honesty about their political leanings to buy their way onto ballots.

These are our choices:

The Democrat who was only elected because his Republican Predecessor was an adulterer and a drunk.

The Democrat unknown who won't tell you who he is, besides "I'm a Veteran!".

A Walking Television Commercial who can't be honest about his true political affiliations, and counts tyrants amongst his friends.

Between the three of them, we should be able to find one who'll be capable of turning Staten Island into the New Atlantis.

Some People Shouldn't Be Allowed to Breed..

Via JammieWearingFool, we get the story of Baby Hitler.

There are some people who aren't cut out to be parents. They either don't have the proper morality, or the correct sense of responsibility. Or, maybe like this mother, they're just dingbats who happened to get pregnant and had nothing better to do.

One gets the idea from reading the article that this woman, a) takes herself way too seriously; she's an artiste, you know, and b) has absolutely no scruples about exploiting her child in order to advance her "art". For that reason alone, her child(ren) should be taken from her, and she should be horsewhipped in the public square. That's before we even get to the photographs she took (see the original article), all in obnoxiously bad taste.

Children should never be used as props for their parents' politics, idealism, stupidity or mental illness.

Please, God, MAKE IT GO AWAY!!!!

Would you toss your career away for this woman?

You might if your name is John Edwards.

Now, I know I've said it a million times on this blog; I won't talk about John Edwards anymore...except this one, last time. Truthfully, I think I just enjoy the schadenfreude, and I'm getting a good belly laugh just imagining how Edwards must be feeling right about now that his paramour and baby-mama has spilled her guts to GQ, complete with photos (via The New York Post).

I guess she might as well make some cash while she can, right? Because considering Johnny-boy's actions to date, if he could get out of paying child support by killing himself, he just might do it. More likely, he'll get another douchebag political hack to kill himself and then claim the body is John Edwards....really.

Anyways, I think I'm just enjoying the thought of Edwards squirming. He's been exposed for the cad and liar that he always was, and you'd think that after some reasonable amount of time, his public embarrassment would end and we could be well-and-truly done with this piece of shit.

But no...The Baby Mama has to have her fifteen minutes, too.

On some level, I think this woman is laboring under the misapprehension that "Johnny" (as she calls him) is actually in love with her. That once that old battleaxe, Elizabeth Edwards, finally kicks the bucket (who gets no sympathy from me; she's just as bad as her husband), that she and Johnny will live Happily Ever After. Perhaps that might even happen, in some Bizarro Universe, but what's more likely to happen is that he'll find some way to weasel out on her.

I mean, look at that picture; He actually fucked that. And more than once, obviously. That woman has a look in her eyes that fairly screams "Glenn-Close-Full-Menstrual-Fury-Batshit-INSANE". I mean, I've even looked at the GQ pics that accompanied the article, and quite frankly, she's not that hot. I rather doubt the attraction was physical.

It was more like she was convenient. Busy men -- especially those trying to lie their way into the White House with fake Andy-Griffith-Like-Aw-Shucks-Populism and tales of Two Americas which apparently don't apply to the man in the 32-room mansion who somehow believes he still feels the working stiff's pain -- will stick their willies in anything that hold still long enough. And if you continue to make yourself available n this fashion, they'll continue to take advantage of the convenience. There's no emotion in it for these guys, no attachment. It's a purely physical act.

And then, as always, it becomes inconvenient for them to continue the routine. Then they do stuff like try to hide you from public view, deny anything about affairs, claim they're the victim of some slanderous campaign, get their flunkies to lie for them, pay bribes to keep you silent, shut you up in someone else's mansion, and ultimately, try to steal dirty diapers so as to game the DNA test for the coming paternity suit.

I mean, really, Gentlemen; would you do the horizontal mambo with THAT? Without a drink or seven? Personally, I wouldn't hit that with a stolen dick. Not only do I get the distinct impression that the sex would suck, I KNOW this broad would probably be so incredibly grateful that I even talked to her that she'd suddenly be everywhere -- in my hallway banging on my door in the small hours, outside my place of business laying in wait for me, begging my landlord to give her a set of keys, and then eventually, committing a very messy and dramatic suicide on my doorstep -- but that's only because I wasn't home in time to make it a proper murder-suicide.

(Note: I've been through a similar little drama before....Except for the messy suicide part!).

Trust me: I know crazy...that woman looks Manson-family crazy.

Now, I know I'm not being completely fair to Ms. Homewrecker...errr...Hunter. But as much as John Edwards disgusts me, she disgusts me just as much, if not more. She knew he was a married man with a family and sick wife at home, and she's not exactly a sainted figure because of it, either. But anything which continues to expose both of these losers for the petty, narcissistic little assholes that they are is welcome, even if it is annoying, because every time both show their faces somewhere, it reminds us just what a turd John Edwards always was and that some misguided douchebags thought that turd would have made a great President of the United States.

Now THAT truly would have been crazy!

Toss This Moron From a Bridge...

A New Jersey man did the unthinkable, and threw his months-old daughter from a bridge into a freezing river yesterday...just as her mother was in a courthouse trying to get a restraining order agianst him.

The child has not been found, alive or dead, at this time, but I think barring some miracle, we can probably consider this child as lost. Murdered by a lunatic who happened to be her sperm donor. I call him "sperm donor" because the word "father" cannot be applied to a probably-raving madman who is capable of doing this sort of despicable thing.

Take note of the sperm donor's name; I'm betting that the word "Islam" will enter into this story at some point.

This monster's father was on the local evening news, and was the stereotype of the "Americanized" Muslim; apparently emotionless, vacant-eyed, fatalistic and unable to take the goddamned Bluetooth earpiece out to talk to the newspeople he brought into his own home to interview him. Apparently fucking oblivious, or perhaps not even caring, that something terrible and evil had occurred -- and that his offspring did the deed.

I want to see this motherfucker bound-and-chained, sewn into a sack with a rabid, wild boar and tossed into the icy river himself.

Tiger the Tiger...

This says more than I really wanted to know.

I mean, as if hating Tiger Woods for being rich beyond all his true relevance wasn't enough, now you have to hear he's hung like a bear and has the stamina of a wolverine.

There are probably hundreds of bimbos lining up right now to expose ever more of Tiger's dirty laundry. I have no sympathy whatsoever. We've all fucked up at one time or another, and I can remember very few people being sympathetic to me when I did it, so I figure I'm just passing on a great American tradition of pointing and jumping up and down, while adding nothing constructive or redemptive to the conversation.

I'm laughing by balls off at him, though. And that's before we get to the S&M allegations.

I find Tiger's so-called taste in mistresses somewhat strange, but comprehensible. They all seem to have the same qualities about them; they're convenient, they make themselves so, they all seem to believe they're just a heartbeat away from becoming the next Mrs. Woods (which makes them stupid), they're absolute dingbats with obvious self-esteem problems, complete with flashing lights and blaring sirens..

Tiger made the mistake most super-wealthy men with power issues and wandering penises make; they screw whatever comes to hand...as it were. And much of what comes to hand is actually thrown at them by virtue of their power or fame, by women who usually are dumb as a post (easy to take advantage of), suffering from some form of mental defect (they're needy and desperate), or who know exactly what they're doing and will milk it for personal gain the second you show a sign of weakness (the most dangerous ones of all). The Powerful Male decides that whatever their actual motivation, they are simply a place he can park his dick when he wants to, and that they can later be discarded, sent packing or paid off whenever he's done with them. What does he care? They are simply subjects to him; they are something that he desires and can easily have. Lesser beings who's proper place is to worship and serve him. He has no real respect or feelings for them. The hair pulling and domination thing this latest woman talks about is a classic example; it's all about having and exercising power over another.

In this regard, at least, there is little difference between Tiger Woods, and say, Henry VIII, except that none of the 'Other Women' have been killed for becoming suddenly inconvenient.

Last night, I was watching Geraldo on Fox News, and there was an interesting segment about the reaction of black women to the Tiger Woods scandal, particularly, insofar as all of Tiger's mistresses appear to be white women. Black women seem to be feeling left out. "How come Tiger has no black bimbos?" they want to know.

Actually, I think they do know...and it still makes them jealous. But ladies, really, just what are you jealous of? You should be jealous of someone this shallow, that knowingly engages in an affair with a married man, and then gets herself a lawyer afterwards? You should be jealous of a woman who pours her heart out to the New York Post in a manner that describes her as little more than a handy sperm receptacle and convenient object of abuse? You're jealous of a bunch of women who are so down on themselves that they have to steal another woman's husband and bask in the glow of his fame in order to feel good about themselves -- and then get unceremoniously dumped, or exposed to public ridicule for it?

Successful black men go for the Forbidden Fruit of White Women to symbolize their rise in what's perceived as a racist society, just as Successful White Men hunt down Asian women to symbolize their conquest of the exotic, or Muslims and Japanese crave blonds. Every race/ethnic group has it's own Mandingo-like theme going on. I think we can be honest about that. Besides, these women are not people to Tiger; they are simply trophies, like a moose head on the wall, or a notch in the belt, and that's when they aren't just a tool to get his freak on....and then leave.

Besides, Black Ladies, that Forbidden Fruit thing works in reverse, too. I know plenty of good white men who would fall for a good black woman in a heartbeat, so why fixate on why Tiger doesn't seem to want you as merely one of his concubines?

Right now, even with all his money, all his stamina, and his apparently-humongous tallywhacker, I wouldn't want to be Tiger Woods at all. He's been exposed; his deepest, most personal secrets are being aired in the public domain. His wife has grounds for both divorce and extortion. There's people laughing at him for his plight, and his choice of women. The Press (such as it is) is at his door 24/7. He's probably mad as hell at himself (not for cheating, because I think his ego really is that inflated, but for getting caught). I'd be frightened shitless that the worst is yet to come, if I were him.

And he's probably right about that. There could be a baby mama out there, somewhere...

Start praying, Tiger, and let this be a lesson to you about keeping your pants on.