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It’s Just A Snow Penis, People. December 30, 2010

Posted by Skippy in General Weirdness, Rants.
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Want further proof that “Idiocracy” was a documentary and not a comedy? Here you go:

Apparently, there’s some kind of state law in Indiana that prohibits the construction of snow penises or something like that.

Children, people need to calm the fuck down. Freaking out over a penis made of snow? I mean, have these people never seen a penis? I’m assuming that some of these people who’ve thrown a hissy fit over a snow penis are either in possession of one or have seen one, but given the puritanical outrage associated with a damned snow penis, I’d have to assume that these people have some sort of elaborate apparatus installed so when they take a piss or have sex they don’t have to either see or handle the offending appendage.

I mean, really. I don’t like truck nuts—I think they’re stupid and indicative of the relative intelligence of the person who deigned to have them on their car. But it never occurred to me to start a movement that would lead to outlawing truck nuts. Why? Because at the end of the fucking day…

…I don’t give a shit.

You know why? Because at the end of the fucking day, a truck nut or a snow penis isn’t impinging on my life, liberty or pursuit of happiness. I’m going to be really pissed about morons who think that gays getting married is the End of All Things, or patriarchal fucktards who spew stupidities left, right, and center. Why? Because those fuckers have the potential to cause real damage to American society. A snow penis? It’ll fucking melt. Truck nuts on a giant SUV? I can pass right by it and keep on rolling to my next destination. And I don’t have to put one on my car, either.

So, in short, to all you offended people in Indiana who were just shocked and appalled at the sight of a goddamn snow penis? Get a fucking grip and lose the puritanism, PLEASE.

Question of the Day December 30, 2010

Posted by Skippy in Question of the Day, Sports.
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What in the hot hell is the “New Era Pinstripe Bowl”? Is every NCAA football team that can field twelve guys getting a bowl these days?

The Meaning of Christmas December 22, 2010

Posted by Skippy in Comics, Humor, Religion.
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(click on image to enlarge)

(from Calamities of Nature)

Pastor Fight! December 21, 2010

Posted by Skippy in General Weirdness, Observations, Religion.
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Some people are so full of the love of Christ…

…that they must whoop someone else’s ass.

Children, I don’t even know where to begin here. The fight was allegedly caused by “different views of Scripture.” Really? Really?!?

Ok, “Old Paths Baptist Church.” Let’s talk about your interpretation of “Scripture.” According to a news story on this foolishness, your church “uses only the King James Bible, believing ‘all other versions have Satan’s fingerprints.'” That right there is proof that your “church” is full of a bunch of fucking morons. You clearly don’t have the slightest clue as to the origins of the Christian Bible—I mean, simple questions a third-grader might ask would reveal your beliefs to be…ridiculous. For example, what about those Christians who lived before 1611? You know, the masses of Christians who were illiterate? Oh, and what did the people in the first century church use as a Bible? Hint: It ain’t in English, homeboy!

Anyway, so you show up to “Church on the Move” (as opposed to all those other churches that don’t seem to be moving anywhere) and start writing heavenly checks with your mouth that your ass can’t cash. Gee, do you think that that is what Jesus might do? Oh, wait, don’t answer that…because you probably will run right to the passage that shows Jesus opening a can of righteous whoop-ass on the “moneychangers” in the Temple.

Fig. 1: Jesus: Harshing your mellow since 30 C.E.

Frankly, for a guy who was all about peace and “love one another,” he could be an obstinate cuss sometimes. I mean, these guys are just providing a service necessary for people who probably don’t have two turtledoves or the appropriate Jewish currency necessary for completing their required sacrifices—sacrifices that Jesus/Jesus’ daddy required them to do, mind you—and here this dude comes, whip and all, and causing a ruckus, in the name of his father.

Of course, when you delve into the interpretation of the text—something that Old Paths likely wouldn’t do…because that would require historical/text criticism…and reading the texts in their original languages—you might find that the motivation behind putting this story in the gospels is not so much about Jesus’ righteousness as it is an indictment of the religion of the day. Again, this is probably a very appealing text for people like those who “worship” at Old Paths Baptist, because it gives them the carte blanche to be smug-o-rific about their beliefs.

What would Jesus do, indeed!

Well, anyway, Old Paths Baptist Church, you keep on arguing that the KJV Bible is the only acceptable Bible and then use that as pretext for going to other churches and starting mess. Just don’t be surprised when Really Old Paths Baptist Church of Truthiness starts up and starts protesting you for doing something that doesn’t meet with their approval.

And for that, Old Paths Baptist Church, you are awarded:

Fig. 2: The Picard would not approve.

Real Housewives of Atlanta: “Not So Fine Print” December 20, 2010

Posted by Skippy in Real Housewives.
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Last Week: Cynthia’s a lunatic, NeNe tells Kim that Cynthia’s a lunatic, and Phaedra quotes a lunatic. Now, you’re caught up. Let’s see what these beweaved morons are doing this week, shall we?

Kandi (we’re off on the right foot): Kandi comes in to get ready for her promo tour. She’s under a lot of pressure from her label to show “growth” and do a ballad. “I Just Know” is a hot ballad. Just sayin’. Anyway, Kim strolls in to “rehearse.” Kandi tells Kim she needs to figure out her moves for the show. Mitchell the Choreographer walks in and Kim wants a bedazzled microphone, which pisses Kandi off, and rightly so. Kim starts her…routine. Kandi looks at her like she’s observing an idiot. Kim interviews that Kandi’s very serious—duh, fool. This is her career. Kandi interviews that she doesn’t have the time to be Yoda to Kim’s whiny Luke. Kandi tells Kim to pull it together.

Later, Kandi gets in the studio, but gets a call from the Frog. She says she’s overwhelmed trying to balance her many roles. Kandi tells her that a spa day is coming up and the producers want them all to be at the spa. Anyway, the song that Kandi’s about to sing is personal, so Kandi gives her producer(the viewers) a recap of her shitty year. Kandi interviews that she hasn’t connected with another guy after AJ. Kandi begins to sing a song. It’s not “I Just Know,” so I just don’t really care. But anyway, Kandi is feeling the song a little too much—but hell, that’s what GOOD R&B does. She gets back in the booth and finishes the song. I guess this’ll be the first single.

Sheree, She Who Shops (but with no money): She drags Tierra to a furnishing store. She says that Tierra has no furniture, so she’s going to buy furniture for her. With what? Anyway, the go around looking for a sofa, but Tierra seems to have the same caviar tastes that her mother has. The sales associate pretends to think they have a pot to piss in and a window to throw it out of. Sheree interviews that she’s proud of Tierra for doing what every grown ass fool is supposed to do. Anyway, Sheree proceeds to spend a shitton of money—$7400 to be exact—on a credit card. Foolishness.

Later, she shows up at Tierra’s apartment for the “housewarming party.” At an apartment. Anyway, Damon’s parents apparently painted the apartment. Ok, pause. In NO apartment complex in Atlanta will the management allow you to repaint the walls. Also, a housewarming party for an apartment? For two fools who are shacking up? Are you fucking kidding me? Stop it with this bullshit, please. When they get a mortgage, THEN you can congratulate them for having done something other than rent a box inbetween other twenty somethings living in an identical box. Okay, play. So, Damon and Tierra are surprised at all the people in their box. Damon is speechless. Sheree says that she’s proud of how Damon and Tierra are doing.

Cynthia, Supermodel and Friend of the World: It’s 4 weeks to the Blessed Event, which will be held at the Fernbank Museum. Cynthia interviews that she wants a non-traditional wedding. NeNe says “People are gonna think that chick done lost her mind.” NeNe: “Getting married under a dinosaur…it’s just all very silly to me. It’s almost like she’s a child or something.” NeNe asks her if she was serious about that friend contract. Cynthia begins talking some…nonsense about their relationship. NeNe proceeds to tell Cynthia the truth: that she thought she was crazy about that contract and that she showed it to Kim. Cynthia says that it was just between her and NeNe and that Kim wasn’t supposed to see it. NeNe says she shouldn’t get pissed that Kim saw it. “Real friends don’t stay mad at real friends,” Cynthia interviews.

Fig. 1: Do friends let friends have marriages under dinosaurs? Is that in the contract?

3 Weeks to the Blessed Event—can’t you just feel the love? People aren’t RSVPing and it’s making Cynthia craz(ier). She gets a model booking, which she needs to pay for her crazy wedding underneath a dinosaur. She’s on the phone for her model shoot…and she really does not sound like a grown woman. Her sister is her assistant…I’m sure there are NO issues between them. Anyway, to be asked to do Miami Swim Week is major. I’m sure.

Commercials: I am so going to see Black Swan. Dell computers suck. Don’t ever buy one or let your employer give you one.

NeNe: is working on booking talent for her show. She needs to get a big interview to support her one decent son and that shiftless layabout. Jay-Z is in Europe, and Toni Braxton is in L.A. being broke. She tries to get an interview with Bow-Wow…nope. Serena Williams…nope. NeNe: “I don’t like to beg.” Honey, I don’t blame you. Brentt—the decent son—shows up with a friend in tow. Apparently, there’s a rumor that Justin Bieber lives in their neighborhood. Brentt, a voice of reason, says, “Do you think we really know multimillionaire phone number people?” He complains that his mom won’t let him grow an afro. NeNe calls Jermaine Dupre’s people and maybe sorta gets an interview. Maybe. I’m pulling for ya, girl!
Her phone rings—and she’s able to get an interview with Jermaine Dupri! She calls her boss with the good news and tells her she got Jermaine Dupri. Her boss only knows of Dupri because at the time he was dating Janet Jackson, but she acts like she’s SUPER EXCITED. NeNe interviews that she’s the only one at 11Alive who could make that interview happen—that’s because the white folks there don’t know who he is, and the other black folks probably don’t give a shit about him.

The Frog: Kandi shows up to the Frog’s Lilypad. She shows Kandi the nursery and of course, brags about the nursery. She talks about Ayden having baby acne and says, “He can’t take pictures looking like that!” Kandi interviews that she’s glad Phaedra has clocked into her maternal side. Really, Kandi? Because she’s breastfeeding? Your parenting standards are very high, Kandi. Phaedra begins to lie like a rug about her encounter with Cynthia at the play. More she-said, she-said. Kandi says that Kim “felt the strongest” and then Phaedra says that at least her tadpole was “born in wedlock” and that she has a man. Kandi interviews that she can understand how Phaedra feels. There is just so much bullshit flying back and forth that I can’t keep up. Phaedra interviews that she will put Kim in check.

Fig. 2: Phaedra: “I will put Kim in check.” Ayden: “Who gon’ check her, boo?”

Speaking of Kim, her stylists show up. How the hell can she afford this? And how is it with stylists, she looks so goddamned tacky? Anyway, Dean says he’s brought her hot clothes. He’s lying, for she walks out in this…outfit that is just. WRONG. And she parades in this slutwear in front of her daughters. She interviews that there’s a fine line between style and trashy. She’s been over that line for a very long time.

Fig. 3: Klassy.

Spa Day…OF DOOM! The women show up and Kim and Phaedra are frosty to each other. Let the interrogation begin! Kim says she’s dating the football player now. Cynthia wants to do a bachelorette party down in Miami…and somehow conversation turns to Kim and Big Poppa. But then, Phaedra starts talking about knowing a stripper who can suck his own dick. She is SO klassy! Also, take off all that damn eye makeup, Phaedra. Sheree brings up a “contract,” which leads to conversation about Cynthia’s friendship contract with NeNe. Cynthia and NeNe try to defuse this foolishness. NeNe interviews that it’s nice to see Cynthia defend herself. Kandi is sitting back and watching foolishness unfold.

Ah, discussion about the baby. Phaedra calls Kim two-faced, but Kim sets her straight. Finally! She calls her out on her lying about the due date. NeNe: “I don’t think Phaedra will ever tell the truth at this point…” Phaedra projects by saying that she doesn’t go around talking about Kim dating a married man who’s in foreclosure—and Kim strikes back: “I don’t talk about your husband being a convict!” Phaedra thinks she’s got the high road and says that she thinks Kim backed down because she knew she was “a crazy black woman.” Well, you are a crazy black woman, Phaedra, but that’s not why Kim “backed down.”

Fig. 4: Phaedra, no one here is buying your shit.

Now, I’m hardly one to side with Kim, but in this regard, she is absolutely correct. Whatever she does or is, she is a nurse. And other women in that room have had kids before, so everybody knew that Phaedra’s bullshit about a seven-month pregnancy was just that: bullshit. And Kim called her on it using simple logic—something that Phaedra, an allegedly successful lawyer should know. She can call Kim a whore and say that “she’s got a man” all she wants, but Kim’s point is made: Phaedra lied, she knows she lied, and everyone knows she knows she lied.

Shut Up, You Old Fool. December 19, 2010

Posted by Skippy in Gay and Lesbian Issues, Politics, Rants.
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Yesterday, in an astounding act of competence, the Senate voted to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” the policy which kept gay and lesbian servicepersons in the closet for nigh unto twenty years. Most everyone is happy that this horrendous bit of foolishness has been swept aside.

Guess who’s not happy?

Fig. 1: This old, useless, bigoted, flip-flopping, dumbass moonbat.

Granted, one would expect the Republican Party to oppose the repeal of DADT. After all, this party has become the bastion of closet cases, hateful jackasses, and douchebags of varying degrees of douchebaggery. Republican senators came up with all sorts of reasons why DADT shouldn’t be repealed. But here’s what Senator Moonbat had to say:

Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., noted that in his conversations with members of the military they had a simple message for him about repealing the policy.

“They’re saying if it isn’t broke, then don’t fix it,” McCain said. “I understand the other side’s argument because of their social-political agenda, but to somehow allege that it has harmed our military isn’t justified by the facts.”

At the same time, McCain acknowledged even then — before the vote — that the repeal would pass.

“I hope that when we pass this legislation that we will understand that we are doing great damage,” he said.

“Today is a very sad day,” McCain sighed later.

Yes, Senator Moonbat, today is a very sad day. But do you remember what you said in 2006 about this same policy? Don’t remember, Senator Moonbat? Well, thanks to the magic of the Intarwebz, we can remind you:

The day that the leadership of the military comes to me and says, senator, we ought to change the policy, then I think we ought to consider seriously changing it because those leaders in the military are the ones we give the responsibility to.

So, when the Pentagon basically said DADT wasn’t really a feasible policy to maintain, you vigorously (well, with as much vigor as a desiccated assmunch such as yourself could muster) opposed them.

Yes, Senator Moonbat, today is a sad day. It’s a sad day when bigoted, callous, craven fuckers like you claim to represent the nation. It is sad that good men and women who wanted to serve their country had to wait decades for a venal institution to finally get a clue and extend just one bit of equality (we’ve got miles to go yet). It is sad that you Senator Moonbat have virtually no scruples whatsoever and are comfortable benefitting from the oppression of others. It’s infuriating that you are more than happy to parade your bigotry for all the world to see—you were comfortable with the possibility of repeal when the possibility was slim to none, weren’t you, Senator Moonbat? You want to run around and say that repealing this pathetic foolishness will harm the military and your asshattery is justified by “facts”—what “facts” might those be, you blinkered fuckshit? What about the data that shows that the majority of those serving in the armed forces don’t think that there would be any negative consequences to the repeal of DADT? That’s fact, you fossilized troglodyte. And “social-political agenda”? Indeed—what do you think DADT was? Something laid down by the 8lb 6oz baby Jesus and written in the Ten Commandments given to Charlton Heston and John Wayne?

You know what? I’m spent. I’m just glad that DADT is dead. Now go in a corner and shut the fuck up, all you bigoted shitmonkeys.

On Precious Snowflakes: A Rant December 17, 2010

Posted by Skippy in Culture, Rants.
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As you all know, I have very little tolerance for people who are so delicate that their precious sensibilities must be coddled and assuaged by any and every unfortunate soul who has the misfortune of crossing their path. I cannot stand “political correctness,” for it and those who zealously advocate for it don’t really give a flying rat’s ass about the people affected by hateful speech/actions; rather, it is itself a kind of orthodoxy that truncates questions and the often uncomfortable answers that we have to deal with on a daily basis (e.g., the deployment of words like “bitch” or “niggah”). I cannot stand people who are so delicate that they cannot hear “foul” language for fear of somehow spontaneously combusting. I find sexual prudes so damned annoying that I wish a good slap upside the head could cure them, for I would most certainly want to be the one administering the slap.

So you can imagine how I felt when I read this stupid story about a college instructor in Hawaii who quit his job in the aftermath of his administration’s caving in to the stupid father of a stupid snowflake. Daniel Peterson taught philosophy at a Hawaii community college for 21 years.

Why share with students that “shit happens”? Petersen said that in the beginning of his introductory philosophy courses, he likes to challenge students, and get them out of easy ways of thinking.

“People think they are in control, but they walk outside and an airplane engine falls on their heads,” he said in an interview. That’s what he’s trying to get across — that you can’t determine your fate.

Another point he tries to make as the course begins is that extremists are determined to impose their will not only on individuals, but on entire belief systems. And he talks about that idea by saying that Osama bin Laden says, in effect: “If you don’t believe in me and my way, I will kill you and your goddamn god.”

A third point he makes at the beginning of the course is that he’s well aware that his style isn’t for everybody. So he says: “If you don’t like the way I teach, the way I smell, or the way I look, there is the door — you don’t have to take my class.”

Petersen said that he is intentionally provocative — and that this grabs students and gets them thinking, which is what he considers to be his job.

Well, at least he did until a precious snowflake (who later dropped the class, by the way) whined about hearing profanity in the class. This grown-ass woman who couldn’t handle hearing curse words (I guess she doesn’t watch a damn thing on TV except for fucking Nickelodeon) complained to her daddy.

Okay, that right there is some WTF shit. Seriously? You complain to your father? And you’re a grown-ass woman? Are you fucking kidding me? The nanosecond I left home, I quit bothering my mother for shit. I felt it an enormous defeat for me to have to have lived with her for one semester towards the end of my undergraduate degree. Why? Because I was fucking grown and thought that I needed to be able to handle shit on my own. And I would have been mortified had my mother ever attempted to intervene in anything I was dealing with when I was in college. I probably fucked up a lot of shit—but it was my shit to fuck up and clean up, not hers. Besides, I think she would have looked at me like I had lost what was left of my mind had I complained to her about any of my professors. Anyway, precious snowflake complains to her dumb daddy…who complains to the administration.

Okay, that’s some more WTF shit. Why the fuck didn’t he tell her to suck it up and grow the hell up? Oh, that’s right, because the university has become just another commodity that has to cater to “customers.” And if dear daddy doesn’t like some other person using arbitrarily defined “swear” words, well then, the school is going to have to cater to dear daddy because he can just take his dollars and send his dumb fuck of a daughter somewhere else! So when dear daddy Jahraus writes whines

Instructors, people in an authority position, with influence and power over their students, have no right to use profanity in the classroom…It demonstrates a paucity of verbal ability and total lack of respect for the students he instructs. This instructor’s action is an abuse of the authority position he holds and a betrayal of whatever confidence the students may have had in his ability to deal fairly with them.
Our institutions of higher learning need to take the high ground intellectually and in general deportment rather than devolving to the lowest vernacular.

You can rest assured that the inept administration of UH Hilo took notice and pressured Peterson to stop using profanity in the classroom. As you can see from reading the article on Inside Higher Ed, things obviously escalated, as they tend to do when university administrators get in the business of telling teachers how to teach. This is a man whose first lecture is designed to be shocking—to get people who don’t need to be there or don’t want their fragile (and most likely, bugfucking stupid) worldviews challenged out of the class.

Now, let me deal with precious snowflake Jahraus’s fucking stupid letter. He claims that the use of profanity is indicative of a “paucity of verbal ability.” To that I say, bullshit. As someone who routinely scored in the upper nineties on verbal tests, my vocabulary, as one student noted, “far exceeds that of the average college student,” as does the vocabulary of most everyone I know in academia. However, our common vernacular is not always constructed around polysyllabic words and complicated sentence structure. I’m certain that if Jahraus and Peterson were to have a battle of wits, Jahraus would come out looking quite the fool.

Also, there’s something to be said for context. What was the point of Peterson’s lecture? Apparently, daughter Jahraus missed that altogether, so offended were her precious sensibilities. And since she either a)was never enrolled in the class or b)dropped it after having her delicate hearing sullied by the use of profanity, she really doesn’t have much of a fucking leg on which to stand. Did Peterson curse at any student? No. Further, this was a standard lecture—again, one he’s used for 21 years, heretofore without complaint. Of course, dumb daddy Jahraus doesn’t care about context—all he cares about is whining about someone in the Mean Old World who dared not make his dear offspring feel like the special precious little snowflake she really is. She’s going to be well and truly fucked in this life if this is how she’s going to react to every and any perceived or actual slight or offense.

And “deportment”? He is using this word, but something tells me it does not mean what he thinks it means. At any rate, the university is not some finishing school for people of fine manners. I don’t know what Mr. Jahraus thinks the university is, but the professoriate doesn’t walk around wearing robes all day speaking the King’s English whilst discussing the latest scholarly article on Dostoyevsky. And guess what, Jahraus? The “lowest vernacular” is used by the people—some instructors have to turn to the world of lived experiences in order to relay larger concepts and ideas. And like it or not, part of that lived experience is the use of language, both proper and whatever is deemed as “improper.” So, yeah. Instructors have every right to use profanity in classrooms. They don’t have the right to use it in order to abuse a student or a colleague. They do have the right to use profanity as part of the instructional process—and if that offends you (or anyone else for that matter), then please, by all means go elsewhere. Oh, and in the meantime…

The Jokes Just Write Themselves December 17, 2010

Posted by Skippy in General Weirdness, Uncategorized.
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What the…I don’t even.

Lovecraftian Mormon Parody December 16, 2010

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Ah, the fresh smell of parody in the morning.
H/T to Unreasonable Faith

Real Housewives of Atlanta: “Contract Player” December 14, 2010

Posted by Skippy in Real Housewives, Uncategorized.
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Last Time: Phaedra can’t tell the truth, Kim can’t sing, Sheree can’t act, and Sugar Daddy can’t get along with NeNe. Can’t never could.

Sheree of the Repossessed Aston Martin: She shows up to Lawrence’s empty ass hair salon. She interviews she expects him to stay open after hours for her. Mmmhm. Explain that foolishness away and think I’m going to buy it. Keep on with that nonsense, Sheree. She asks him to explain his song “Closet Freak,” which gives him a chance to sing. She likes it, but I don’t suppose you’d want to piss off the guy who’s doing your hair. She interviews that she likes him working with Kandi, but doesn’t want him to get too distracted. They gossip about Kim and Lesbian DJ Tracy. Lawrence makes a homophobic joke, thus cementing my utter hatred of this fucking fool. Sheree gets a call from The People Store. They inexplicably want to be agents for her. No free publicity for them, no siree! Sheree says she wants to get out of her shell. She means she wants to get out from under that mane of fake hair. NeNe, as always, breaks it down: “this is not Hollywood…as long as you have a little bit of a name, an agency will accept you.” Ha! Sheree talks about being in some fugaboo play called “Child Support Man.” I guess she’ll be in the Greek chorus? She walks out of Lawrence’s salon looking a hot mess.

Fig. 1: “The look I’m going for is ‘Bride of Frankenstein meets Mad Black Woman.’ Can you do that, Lawrence?”

Later, Kandi shows up to the house. Sheree wants Kandi to help her run lines for her “play.” Kandi says she’s gained weight and can’t be eating that Kroger deli shit that Sheree bought…but she does anyway. Sheree interviews that she’s nervous—she’s only had a few days to get her lines. Her character is the “voice of reason”—oh, what irony! They run the lines…and Kandi is a better actress than Sheree is. Kandi says that she seemed natural. Well, Kandi doesn’t know everything. They start talking about child support and Kandi, stepping all up in it, asks, “How are you maintaining?” In other words, how are you living like this?

Anyway, conversation turns to Kandi’s busy schedule and working with Kim. Blah, blah, gossip and more shit-talking about Kim ensues. Maybe Kim’s next song should be a cover of Jill Scott’s “Hate On Me”?

Kim, Diva With No Voice: She meets with a choreographer and interviews that she’s opening up for Kandi on her tour. Whatever. Anyway, the choreographer asks her what her vision is for her dance routine. As usual, Kim has no clue, and no talent. She interviews that she danced for sixteen years. Did she work with NeNe at Magic City? Oh, I’m so naughty! Anyway, the choreographer—Mitchell, I think his name was—tries to work with her. She says she needs to try to “feel it in her mind”—use the Force, bitch!

Sheree shows up to Kim’s house. I don’t think this has ever happened before. Anyway, they begin to gossip about Supermodel and NeNe. Sheree interviews that Supermodel is “hooked on NeNe…like a little tick. You need to scratch that bitch off.” Anyway, Kim has some expensive procedure designed to remove fat…with a laser. Kim has invited all the ladies over to enjoy this FDA approved procedure. NeNe hasn’t talked to Supermodel since the big blow up, since Sugar Daddy hates her. NeNe isn’t too excited about this completely safe procedure. Kim objects in an interview. Supermodel wants to talk to NeNe privately, but NeNe doesn’t want any drama. They go to Kim’s kitchen while Kim gets into the agony booth. Supermodel says she wanted to respect NeNe’s space while she’s been going through her shit with Gregg. Supermodel bought a candle for NeNe…and a friend contract. It’s a one-year contract with early termination fees. NeNe says, “Cynthia, we’re not married!” She interviews that “we’re not fifteen…this is definitely some single black female shit.” Say it, girl. NeNe interviews, “AWKWARD. I am not mentioning the friend contract. I’m just going to shut the fuck up.” She basically thinks that Supermodel is ten pounds of crazy in a five pound sack.
Kim says she has to go to LA to get her hair did. Sheree interviews, “doesn’t she wear a wig?” Ironically enough, they all begin eating Papa Johns while Kim is having the fat phasered off her body by the completely logical and efficient procedure.

Cynthia, Supermodel and Fiance of the World: The invitation to her nuptials have come five and a half weeks before the blessed event. Supermodel is so excited about the big day that she wants to go somewhere…by herself. Sugar Daddy comes in and whines about wine. I need to be drinking some right fucking now. They start talking/joking about breaking up. Mmm hm. This is a marriage for the ages. Supermodel brings up the blow up between Sugar Daddy and NeNe. She interviews that she’s uncomfortable being between Sugar Daddy and NeNe. She calls him out for being a prissy bitch about NeNe and he begins acting like…well, a prissy bitch. Supermodel wants them to work it out. I just want Sugar Daddy to man the fuck up and quit whining about his future wife’s tv best friend.

Commercials: I hope “the Fighter” flops hard.

Phaedra the Lying Frog: Dwight shows up bearing flowers and foundation. The Frog is breast feeding. Grandma Pastor takes Ayden so the Frog and Dwight can gossip. He tells her that Supermodel and Kim were talking shit about the Frog lying her ass off. The Frog says that Supermodel is being two-faced and intimates that Supermodel’s jealous that the Frog has a man. Dwight tells the Frog that Kim called her baby an alien, which she absolutely did not do. The Frog interviews that Kim isn’t really a nurse and then the both of them begin throwing shade about Kim having worked at the Cheetah club. She calls Kim an “uneducated hooker” and says that Kim wants what she’s got. Godfuckingdamn, I hate this amphibianistic bitch.

Fig. 2: How can you tell when this Frog is lying? When she opens her mouth.

Grandma Regina, Pastor and Mother of the Frog greets a delivery of a shitton of food. They orgasm over the delivery of so much produce and cupcakes, a gift from her new bestie, Dwight. This show is doing wonders for the black gay men of Atlanta.

The Play’s The Thing: Lawrence comes up to the low budget play at the Soul Factory theater. I could have sworn I went there once to hear some godawful “poetry” read by crazy-assed bohemian morons. It was a treat for the whole family, especially the profanity-laced, violently misogynistic poem about unfaithful women. Anyway, the fake green-eyed monster says “a star is born” and tells her that a long line of people are there to see her. Bullshit. Anyway, Sheree interviews that no one from her agency nor her acting coach could come to see her. Snerk. She wants them to “see that her presence draws a big crowd.” The delusion continues apace.

Supermodel interviews that NeNe’s also coming and hopes that she and Sugar Daddy can smooth things out.
Sheree interviews and gossips that she thinks that Sugar Daddy and NeNe want to fuck each other. Whatever. The play begins. It looks fabulously bad and is clearly influenced by one Tyler Fucking Perry. Apparently, Sheree’s part is …not that big. Well, she ain’t gonna win any Oscars. NeNe: “It was more like a cameo.” And the play’s over. Sheree interviews that her theater experience went well…and now she’s ready to move into film. Bitch, please.

The Frog goes up to Supermodel acting like she is gonna unleash hell, but Cynthia heads her off at the pass by telling her that Kandi told them that the tadpole was actually nine months. When she asks, “what happened,” the Frog acts all stupid and says, “What do you mean?” Realizing that she does not have the element of surprise, she tries to fuck Cynthia up by saying that she doesn’t understand why everyone is concerned. She repeats Dwight’s fucked up recitation of Kim and Supermodel’s interrogation. Supermodel: “You need to check your sources.” The Frog then tries to deflect onto the tadpole with a whole bunch of “waah, don’t talk about an innocent baby” bullshit, but Supermodel ain’t hearing this shit. She says she didn’t say anything about the baby looking like an alien.

Rant Time: Okay, fuck Phaedra and fuck Dwight. But mostly, fuck Dwight, because he totally misrepresented what Kim was saying. She was saying that there was no way Phaedra would or could have a healthy baby at seven months, without it looking like an alien. Kim and Cynthia confronted his retarded ass with science, and he knew goddamn good and fucking well that what they were saying was true. So when he trundled off to gossip to Phaedra, he knew fucking well that he wasn’t getting what they were saying right. And there ain’t that much cheap champagne in the world to distort what Kim was saying. And Phaedra needs to know better than to run off half-cocked on the word of some drama-spreading moron like Dwight, so fuck her too.

Sugar Daddy pulls NeNe away to apologize to her about being a whiny bitch. NeNe looks drunk, because she’s giving him way too much. Okay, girl. Watch yaself!

Anticlimactic Lunch: Anyway, Kim is back from Narnia and she and NeNe are having lunch somewhere. She gossips to Kim about the crazy-ass friend contract. Oh, my god—it has conditions! Kim asks NeNe if this isn’t a little weird. And just a soupcon of crazy. They begin talking about Gregg and the impending divorce. Gregg won’t leave the house. Kim begins talking about Lesbian DJ Tracy. NeNe says she’ll date a white guy…which leads to Kim talking about “dating” Kroy Biermann, Defensive Whatever for the Atlanta Falcons and impending impregnator. We flashback to his fine ass, and I ignore the rest of whatever these two are saying.