Existentialist Star Wars April 29, 2011Posted by Skippy in Humor, Science Ficton.
Tags: awesomeness, philosophy for the masses
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Fig. 1: Freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.
Fuck You, Donald Trump. April 27, 2011Posted by Skippy in Politics, Racism, Rants.
Tags: blights upon humanity, FAIL!, foolishness, idiots, white privilege
And fuck anybody who agrees with your stupid, racist, xenophobic, ignorant, backwards, trite and juvenile assholery.
I don’t care if the above sentiment isn’t “adult” or “scholarly” or is perceived as “offensive.” When we are dealing with an economy that is struggling, millions of Americans either unemployed or underemployed, more Americans who are suffering as a result of deadly storm systems that have ravaged a good portion of the nation, and unrest in an already volatile part of the world, we have absolutely NO time to be caught up in the shenanigans of a fake-haired, two-bit ringmaster who doesn’t give a fat flying fuck about America or its citizens. We have absolutely NO time to give a minute of attention to a famewhore who can barely keep his own companies afloat. And we certainly have no reason to be polite to this famewhore, for he’s done nothing to deserve polite treatment. He deserves every imprecation that can be heaped atop that Tribble he calls “hair.”
Let’s call this bullshit what it is: RACISM. Here you have a bastard who has run shit into the ground and his last claim to fame is a weekly extravaganza of misogyny and lunacy called “The Apprentice” saying that not only is President Barack Obama’s birth certificate not sufficient, now this arrogant bastard wants Obama’s college records?
“I’d like to know how does he get into Harvard, how does he get into Colombia if he isn’t a very good student,” Donald Trump told the press this morning in New Hampshire.
“If he wants to release it that’s fine, if he doesn’t want to release it that’s fine too. But the word is he wasn’t a very good student,” Trump added.”I’d like to know how does he get into Harvard, how does he get into Colombia if he isn’t a very good student,” Donald Trump told the press this morning in New Hampshire.
Really, Trump? What law school did you go to? And were you the president of the Harvard Law Review? You know, that position which only the best of HLS students can achieve? Oh, and let’s get to it: you’re making these assertions because you cannot believe that a black man could achieve that—as well as lecturing at the University of Chicago on Constitutional Law, so you’re going to throw out some poisonous bullshit about Obama not being a very good student. Well, gee, Trump no “not very good” student could ever achieve such as the Presidency of the United States!
Fig. 1: This guy was not a very good student. Or President.
But wait, nobody saw you wanting Bush’s college records. You didn’t complain about not having Bush’s long-form birth certificate. And you didn’t flat-out make any statements about Bush’s ability to get into good schools. And you never did anything like this about Clinton, either, so what gives? I’ll tell you what gives; you’re playing to the racist jackass lunatic fringe and whipping up all this attention because you know that racism when dressed up plays very well in this nation. You know that you don’t have a flying pig’s hope of ever becoming President—and that Obama did probably burns you up.
Methinks you need to revise your estimation of being a “friend” to us blacks. Frankly, you’re not a friend to anyone, you fetid jackass.
Superman Returns…And So Do I April 26, 2011Posted by Skippy in Comics.
Tags: awesomeness, geekery, nerdalicious
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Children, it’s been quite a while since I’ve set foot in a comic book shop. A few months ago, I decided that I was spending too much money on comic books and the return on the investment was diminishing. I wasn’t enjoying many of the storylines I was reading—such as my aforementioned rant about the horrible “Grounded” storyline in Superman—and I realized that I had better things to spend my money on. However, tomorrow DC Comics will release Action Comics #900. First of all, I have to buy it just because it’s Action Comics #900. Second, although Action Comics hasn’t been as execrable as Superman has, it still has had an overly long storyline focusing on Lex Luthor and his quest for ultimate power and has been completely devoid of Superman himself; I am going to be glad to see Superman back where he belongs. Third, the culmination of this storyline promises to be epic.
I haven’t been this excited about Comic Book Wednesday in a very, very long time.
A Modest Treatise on the Real Housewives of Orange County April 25, 2011Posted by Skippy in Observations, Real Housewives, Uncategorized.
Some of you may have noticed a lack of “Real Housewives” recaps/commentary. Well, children, I got behind in my RHoOC watching…and frankly, I stopped caring. Rewatching a show and then writing about it highlights more of its flaws than merely watching does. After watching the boring RHoMiami and now the OC, I can safely say that this so-called franchise has run out of gas. The OC, the original show, has run out of stories to tell about this assemblage of mostly-broke botoxed bottle blond, so it has taken to doing a number of inane things to remain “fresh:”
1. Bringing back old crazy people
From previews I’ve seen, Jeana from seasons 1 to whenever is coming back. Hoo boy, does she look like ten miles of bad road, to boot! This economy did a number on Jeana (she’s a real estate something or other) so she dropped out of the show. Well, she’s apparently back and will eventually get into a fight with Tamra, who is trying for all the world to be this show’s NeNe. Which brings me to…
2. Stealing plotlines from other shows
The aforementioned Tamra started this boring season “befriending” a Latina lesbian named Fernanda. It was insipid watching Tamra act like she was the slightest bit interested in having any kind of sexual relations with a woman. And guess where that plot line came from? Yep, it came from the RHoAtlanta series, where Kim Zolciak was kinda-sorta-maybe dating a lesbian named Tracey. That supposed plot line got dropped with a quickness as Tamra started tv-dating some oddball named Eddie. Either way, Tamra’s dating a homosexual, is all I’ve got to say about that.
3. Bringing on new crazy people
Gee fucking whiz. They’ve brought on this crazy whackaloon named Peggy who is allegedly friends with Jesus Barbie, aka Alexis. I thought I couldn’t stand Alexis—and I can’t, but that’s another rant—but Peggy is just a whole ‘nother level of crazy. She claims that she’s into homeopathy and natural whatever. She makes a point of telling the camera that she is into wholistic whatever…but yet she got plastic surgery to re-enhance her boobs.
Children, between crazy Peggy and Jesus Barbie and Vicki emasculating her husband, I am spent. I’ve run out of snark with these women, because it occurs to me that these are grown women thinking that they can live the life of a damn Barbie doll. And that’s not funny. It’s sad.
Five-Minute Celebrity Apprentice: “Bitter Suites” April 25, 2011Posted by Skippy in Celebrity Apprentice.
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NeNe Leakes: Nobody likes me; therefore, I will sulk while texting and websurfing on my iPhone.
Meat Loaf: I’m so glad that Gary Busey is gone. Now I shall stand uncontested as the craziest celebrity on this show!
NeNe Leakes: Oh, yeah? Wait till next week.
Hope Whatsit: I bowl and care for children. I’m special!
Donald Trump: Before we get to this week’s task, I should remind you all to suck up to me, because I am possibly maybe considering a run for President.
Donald Trump: Well? Don’t you think I’d make a good President? Don’t you?
Everybody: Um, yeah. Sure.
Donald Trump: Excellent. Now here’s your task—oh, wait. I forgot something. We’re standing in Trump Soho, the tallest building in the world! And by “world,” I mean “Soho.” And I want you to give me free advertising for my awesome hotels! Choose your leaders!
The Men: We don’t really give a shit about this, so John Rich, you can handle this one.
Star Jones: I know EVERYTHING about luxury. You will let me do this.
The Women: Um, we’re not really sure about this—
Star Jones: I said I know EVERYTHING!
The Women: Aw, hell. Okay then.
Trump Hotel Guy: Give us something new. But not too new.
Audience: Aw, hell. Vague directions again?
Trump Hotel Guy: How else can we set the women up? Oh, yeah, I know. I’ll basically give the guys their slogan and not bother to repeat this to the women.
Star Jones: Our slogan will be “Individual elegance, collective luxury!” It is great, isn’t it ladies?
The Women: …it kinda sucks, but we don’t have the stones to tell you.
Latoya Jackson: I think it kinda sucks. Corny, to be precise.
Star Jones: You do? Well, you and NeNe go off and do errands in the bowels of Manhattan!
Latoya Jackson: That’s a punishment?
Star Jones: Be back in an hour or I’ll take you to the Boardroom!
Latoya Jackson: Brilliant strategy, imp.
Star Jones: I sense hatred between Latoya and NeNe. Hug it out, bitches!
Marlee Matlin’s Interpreter: What the hell is wrong with these wenches?
NeNe Leakes: I like you now, Latoya Jackson.
Latoya Jackson: Great. Now I’m really in trouble.
Eric Trump: Hey guys, what are you doing?
John Rich: ACK! They let your gorgon-looking ass out of the dungeon? Where’s Ivanka?
Eric Trump: Shut up and tell me what you’re doing.
John Rich: Since the beginning of time…
Eric Trump: Aw, hell. Why didn’t I get to check in on the women?
Don Trump, Jr.: Because I am awesome and not ugly. Hey, ladies! What’s happening?
Star Jones: We’re going to put Hope Whatsit in a tub.
Don Trump, Jr.: Is she naked?
Star Jones: Close your mouth and wipe the drool off your chin. She’ll be wearing a towel.
Don Trump, Jr.: Well, now you done fucked up.
Star Jones: NeNe, are you finished with your shot that I only gave you five minutes to finish?
NeNe Leakes: Let me give y’all a taste of next week. Bitch, what you talking about, we’ve got five minutes?!?
Meat Loaf: Emotionless butler? You’re a SUPASTAR! You’re a sexy kitten! Work it! Work it! WORK! IT!
Emotionless Butler: Dude, I’m just advertising butler services, not a sleazy nightclub. That’s what the women are doing.
John Rich: We’re men! Awesome men, just like Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders!
Lil Jon: What the hell made you come up with that obscure historical reference?
Meat Loaf: Hey, Trump Hotel Executives, have you ever wondered what it’s like to be Donald Trump?
Trump Hotel Executives: Well, we’re rich too and unlike Trump, we have our own hair, so no.
Star Jones: I will now have the women on my team spout random words.
(thirty minutes of random-ass word spouting ensues)
Star Jones: Trump Hotels are the very similitude of luxury, the perspicacity of opulence, and the facsimile of grandeur. I hope you enjoyed our presentation and our gaudy print ads.
Trump Hotel Executives: Jesus, woman, that didn’t make any sense. And your ads look like shit.
Star Jones: Mr. Trump, after this experience of providing you with free advertising for hotels no one could afford to patronize, I now want to live in one of them. Please? Pretty please?
Donald Trump: No. NeNe, what do you think about your team? Anyone you’d like to napalm?
NeNe Leakes: I will not be drawn into another—oh, hell. Fine. All these women kissed Star’s ass.
Marlee Matlin’s Interpreter: Kiss my ass, NeNe!
Marlee Matlin: Why’s he speaking when I’m not?
John Rich: I think everyone did well on this task.
Donald Trump: I am surprised…that Lil Jon is capable of more than doing whatever it is he does. See, blacks? I truly am a friend to you!
Lil Jon: The fuck?
Eric Trump: The executives really didn’t—
Donald Trump: Shut up, Ugly! You should be happy I let you out of your cage, you disappointment! Anyway, the Trump Hotel Executives hated both teams. But they hated the men a little less, so women, you lose.
Star Jones: I’m bringing NeNe and Latoya back for the final boardroom.
Audience: What? What a shock! This is brand new information!
Donald Trump: I really don’t want to fire anyone, since I’m possibly maybe running for President and I don’t want people to associate me with people losing jobs. NeNe, what do you think?
NeNe Leakes: Um, Latoya’s kind of a weak player.
Star Jones: Excellent—I mean, yes. Yes, Latoya really isn’t a strong player.
Latoya Jackson: I can see where this is going…
Donald Trump: That’s because you’re “Bad.” Latoya, “Beat It”!
Conclusive Proof that Barack Obama is Not an American April 20, 2011Posted by Skippy in Humor, Politics.
Five-Minute Celebrity Apprentice: “Raising the Steaks” April 19, 2011Posted by Skippy in Celebrity Apprentice.
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Latoya Jackson: I’ve always been involved in charity! If by “always” you mean, “twenty minutes ago.”
Donald Trump: We’re at Trump Tower Grill! We cook shit and people buy it! It’s awesome! Here are these old farts from Omaha Steaks to tell you your task.
Omaha Old Farts: Our company makes a lot of steaks. Steaks are excellent for you. And we make steaks. Which are very, very good for you. Here’s the thing; we’re cheap-ass motherfuckers and we want you to give us some free advertising.
Donald Trump: Choose your leaders!
The Women: Hope Whatsit! You haven’t had much screentime!
Hope Whatsit: But I don’t eat red meat!
The Men: Oh, hell. Gary. Maybe this’ll be our chance to get rid of your crazy ass.
Gary Busey: I have an internal wealth of knowledge. I can also imitate a cat. Watch me cough up a hairball!
Omaha Old Farts: Guys, our products are awesome, but we’re too cheap to do any real advertising.
Gary Busey: Do you have any cows in suspended animation?
Omaha Old Farts: Let’s go talk to the women.
Star Jones: Do you have any thing that won’t require an angioplasty after eating it?
Omaha Old Farts: We have vegetables like bacon, Porterhouse steaks, rib-eyes…
Star Jones: Um, do y’all even know what a vegetable is?
Gary Busey: Hey, Omaha Steaks customer service rep. Have you ever flown a kite? With your dad? On Father’s Day? And can you tell me how to cook a flank steak?
Omaha Customer Service Rep: What the damn?
NeNe Leakes: I really think we should cook a hamburger.
Latoya Jackson: This is all a plot to destroy me, because I don’t know how to cook.
NeNe Leakes: You don’t know how to cook? What woman in America doesn’t know how to cook?
Audience: Sandra Lee. Have you seen her Kwanzaa cake?
Star Jones: Look! I did the menus and designed the aprons! All while eating take-out!
NeNe Leakes: Isn’t that what you do every week?
Hark! Ivanka approacheth!
Ivanka Trump: Meat Loaf! Tell me, are you a good cook? Answer now!
Meat Loaf: Gary’s crazy!
Ivanka Trump: Do you think that I care about your sob story? Busey! Attend me!
Gary Busey: Sunshine transoms platypuses!
Ivanka Trump: I cannot wait to disembowel you.
Don Jr. approaches. No one really cares.
Don Trump, Jr.: So, what are you women doing?
Star Jones: I’m a graphic designuh!
Don Trump, Jr.: You do realize that Tracey Jordan was making fun of you, right?
Marlee Matlin’s Interpreter: As is the rest of America…
Don Trump, Jr.: Right. Star, people are getting sick of seeing you sitting at a Mac and scarfing down take-out.
John Rich: Gary Busey called me “boy”! I am pissed! So very pissed! It’s almost like a racial epithet or something!
Skippy: Wait till you get to the Boardroom…
Latoya Jackson: Maybe if I set this burger on fire, it’ll kill NeNe.
NeNe Leakes: Bitch tried to pull a Michael Jackson on me!
Audience: She tried a what?
Gary Busey: I’m sorry for calling you a “boy,” John Rich.
John Rich: Fuck you, you cock-eyed bastard!
Gary Busey: Well, I don’t think that was called for at all.
Hope Whatsit: I have to prove that I am a leader and am not just a pair of walking boobs.
Latoya Jackson: I have to prove that I am not the developmentally delayed simpleton that I come off as.
Hope Whatsit: Then you’ll have TO TALK LOUDER, YOU SIMPLETON!
Star Jones: We have meat here that won’t kill you. That’s the good news. The bad news is, it’s no bigger than a quarter.
Omaha Old Farts: We wish they’d said “Omaha Steaks” more. If we’re going to get free advertising for Omaha Steaks, then these poor saps should say Omaha Steaks as often as possible, or else we’ll get mad.
Audience: You fuckers are getting free fucking advertising for your shitty steaks!
Omaha Old Farts: Don’t you mean “your shitty Omaha steaks”?
Gary Busey: I’m a subtle leader. Wait—that was too coherent. I am the wind that fallows your peregrine! Eat this steak and your entrails will be clean and your father will fly kites!
Omaha Steak Audience: …what?
Meat Loaf: Never mind that, let’s raffle off these steak dinners!
Omaha Steak Audience: Well, okay then.
John Rich: This was a catastrophic collapse of time management.
Donald Trump: Those are a lot of words. How do you know so many words?
Ivanka Trump: These fools don’t know words! Look at this “menu”! There are typos! TYPOS! Useless, troglodytic carriers of syphilis! By the way, how was Gary as a leader?
Gary Busey: You see, there was this kite. This kite was a friend. A true friend. A friend to the end. It then disemboweled a cow and made steaks of the cow. The cow was also a friend—
Ivanka Trump: Silence, crazy man. Ivanka neither knows nor cares about this “kite” of which you speak.
Lil Jon: This fool wanted me to put paper in a damn box!
Donald Trump: Don’t care. So, Hope, you’re hot.
Star Jones: She’s young enough to be my daughter!
Donald Trump: She’s young enough to be my next wife!
Hope Whatsit: Oh, dear God. Just tell us if we won or not.
Donald Trump: Not yet. Latoya, do you like any of these women?
Latoya Jackson: I like everybody. I like Marlee, Star, and Hope. They’re really nice people.
Donald Trump: I notice that you didn’t mention NeNe.
Latoya Jackson: Oh, that’s ‘cause I hate that—
Hope Whatsit: My charity is for children! Sick children!
Donald Trump: I am really surprised that you can think, Hope. I am also surprised that the Omaha Old Farts really liked your work. You won.
The Men: We’re not awesome?
Meat Loaf: Seriously? Did you idiots not see that fucking freakshow we put on?
John Rich: Gary called me a boy! Fire him!
Gary Busey: I called you a “ca-boy.”
John Rich: You calling me a homosexual?
Ivanka Trump: I noticed that everyone took every opportunity to stay far away from you, Gary. Now that I look at you, I understand why. Father, I cannot stand the sight of this creature.
Donald Trump: I could defend you, Gary, but I think Ivanka would kill this Tribble on top of my head if I did. You’re fired!
News You Can Use: Donald Trump is a Friend to “The Blacks” April 15, 2011Posted by Skippy in Observations, Politics, Racism.
Tags: blights upon humanity, class privilege, FAIL!, hot ass mess, white privilege
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As he continues to mull a presidential bid, or say he is mulling a presidential bid, business mogul Donald Trump is lamenting the fact President Obama appears to have locked up the black vote.
“I have a great relationship with the blacks,” Trump told Albany’s Talk Radio 1300 Thursday. “I’ve always had a great relationship with the blacks.”
Oh, dear Spock. Donald Trump, as much as you provide me with endless amusement as you bray about how the latest Trump thing you’ve constructed is So AWESOME, you do annoy me with your inveterate sexism and, apparently, your blinding stupidity. See, I can’t even call that statement you made “racist,” as it is so clueless and so thoroughly infected with Rich White Man Syndrome, that all I can say is, “Well, bless his stupid little heart.”
Donald Trump, you’re so stuck in 1920, that you still refer to African Americans as “the blacks.” At first, I thought you were referring to a family named The Blacks and I wondered why that was even worthy of a newsbite on Crappy Non News. After all, I’m sure you know many Blacks and have a good relationship with them, so long as they’re rich. But then, reading the newsbite further, I realized you were talking about us. 40 million African Americans. You claim to have a good relationship with us—all of us—and then get all shirty about 40 million (or so) not voting for your good friend Hillary Clinton. Donald, you’re not racist; you’re just unbelievably stupid. So stupid, I’m now not sure you actually own your own company. No one that stupid can be good at business.
See, Donald, here’s why I think you’re just unbelievably stupid:
1. You say that Hillary Clinton “did so much for the black population” and “got very few votes.”
While the first premise is…questionable at best, your attempt to link the second premise to the first is, well, stupid. It’s stupid because I’d bet good money you couldn’t even tell me what it was that Hillary did for all 40 million of us that was “so much” and would warrant all of the African Americans who voted in the Democratic primaries to not support Barack Obama. It’s stupid because it assumes that “the black population” is some undifferentiated collective of individuals living in some hive mind.
Fig. 1: This is what Donald Trump thinks “the black population” is like.
2. You go on to compound your stupidity with this: “Look, I tell it like it is… you hear a political reporter go on and say, ‘It had nothing to do with race.’ But how come she got such a tiny piece of the vote. It’s a very sad thing.”
Oh, Donald. You so stoopid! Ok, let me try to explain the way elections work in our two-party system. You see, Donald, when someone wants to run for something like President, they usually have to secure the backing of their particular political party. With me so far? Good. I’d hate for you to get lost. So, there’s this thing called a “primary.” During this primary, people—of all races! How special!—go vote for their preferred candidate. The winner of these primaries receives a certain number of delegates who will vote for them at the political party’s national convention. I won’t even get into that whole superdelegate business, as it would confound your pretty, cotton candy-like head. Suffice it to say that the candidate with the most delegates wins. Simple as that. And guess what? It usually has nothing to do with race, because a lot–yes, Trump, a lot of white people voted for Obama. I know! Surprises abound!
Fig. 2: These are white people. They voted for Obama. Questions?
Oh, and you’ve thrown your lot in with the “birthers”? I don’t think that would please the Blacks.
Anti-Southernism: The Dating Edition! April 13, 2011Posted by Skippy in Culture, Rants, Religion.
Tags: foolishness, idiots, regionalism
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Y’know, children, I’ve often said that the Internet is nothing more than an assemblage of potential idiots. Because the Internet is so vast and so full of nooks and crannies, there are many, many places where brainless morons can congregate and commiserate on their collective stupidity. Also, because the supposed anonymity of the Web can foster even more foolishness, allegedly “smart” people can occasionally write some damnable foolishness. Even worse, bastions of so-called “liberal” thinking can usually harbor the worst kinds of idiocy. Case in point: an “article” by a “Maggie Flynn” about dating as an agnostic while living in Nashville. But before I get to Flynn’s anti-southernist piece, I want to remind y’all about something I wrote previously:
See, the stock-in-trade of the anti southernist is that the South is full of moronic imbeciles who are racist, homophobic, dangerously in love with Jesus, etc. The haughty assumption of the anti-southernist is that their particular region is totally free of moronic imbeciles who are racist, homophobic, dangerously in love with Jesus, etc. The South—at least, the “South” as imagined by the anti-southernist is nothing more than a scapegoat, a featureless mannequin upon which the “superior” jackass from another region can festoon every negative, ugly American characteristic.
There’s a reason I wrote that, and sadly, Flynn’s piece seems to fit everything I wrote to a T. Flynn’s essay is about her dating woes when she lived in Nashville. See, Maggie Flynn is an enlightened agnostic who hails from Michigan (you know, that wonderful land of opportunity and great sense) and spent some time in Nashville, Tennessee. Now, when I was told that an agnostic had written about dating in Nashville, I thought it would be a thoughtful piece that highlights the problems inherent in finding a compatible mate when one’s religious beliefs are outside a particular mainstream. Instead, the piece is a holier-than-the-South bit of drivel better suited for someone’s self-indulgent blog–why bore others needlessly?
Anyway, Flynn begins by recounting some dating disasters. Well, hell, who hasn’t had a dating disaster? I bet people living in New York City (aka Liberal Utopia) have some dating hell stories—aw, who’m I kidding? Nobody in NYC has ever had to deal with any kind of prejudice whatsoever. Ok, anyway, Flynn bores everyone with her phenomenally disastrous dates, and then proceeds to blame those phenomenally disastrous dates on Nashville itself, as though the city was somehow responsible for her dating mishaps. She then begins enumerating the horrible, horrible things that the City of Nashville had done that kept her from getting laid on a regular basis:
* Nashville has too many churches!
* Some people who went to church were hypocrites!
* Her job at an Evangelical publishing house subjected her to undue conversation about—oh, my I can’t even type this—church!
It’s this last point that really wobbles the mind. Read this bit of foolishness:
God even invaded my professional life. To supplement my paycheck from AmeriCorps, I took a job in the children’s division for one of the biggest names in Christian publishing, proofreading evangelical teen series and creationist-themed picture books with names like “God Said It and Bang! It Happened.” No one there questioned me about my religious beliefs — my colleagues operated on the assumption that the whole office was Christian.
You mean to tell me that people working at an Evangelical publishing house would dare assume that their co-workers were Christian? Well, spank my ass and call me Charlie! Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me that you’d expect teammates on a football team to be fans of the game! My stars and garters, I don’t know how Flynn mustered the courage to get up in the morning, so oppressed was she!
True to form, Flynn informs the reader that she has since fled (her word, not mine) to Los Angeles. Aren’t you happy for her? Now she’s in Utopia, a place where no one assumes that she subscribes to any particular brand of woo. Oh, it’s perfectly perfect in its perfection. Why, it’s so perfect in Utopia, that she’s even open to the idea of a higher power! If only the horrible city of Nashville had allowed her the freedom to work at Christian publishing houses without assuming that she too was a Christian, maybe she wouldn’t have been such an agnostic! Our dear Flynn writes
In this permissive environment, I’ve actually become more open to the idea of a higher power. Sometimes, as I’m falling asleep, I’m even moved to say a prayer of thanks for my kind and supportive fiancé, our funny French bulldogs and our great community of friends. To paraphrase Joni Mitchell, I still wonder where, exactly, my prayer will go. I largely assume my thriving the past few years can be attributed to good decisions and a measure of luck. But maybe the path I’m on has less to do with my personal choices than I think. It’s possible that I was preordained to move to Nashville, feel alienated and flee to a city where I fit. Here in L.A., I feel like I’ve been saved, even if I haven’t.
What a smug load of bollocks. This is precisely the kind of bullshit I was referring to in my previous post on anti-southernism. She claims that she felt alienated. Did she even bother seeking out any nontheist/atheist/agnostic groups? If she’d had an ounce of sense, she could have gotten on the Google and found some atheist groups in the city. I’m pretty fucking certain that there was a Unitarian Universalist church in the city—but no, this smug fool blathers on about going to a Nazarene church. She makes the city her dating scapegoat—even though she concedes that she a) made friends with people who weren’t dangerously in love with Jesus and b) dated a guy who wasn’t double-dating with the Lord. But no, she doesn’t realize that it was probably a matter of giving the city time. No, it wasn’t that, nor could it be that you always have to go through a bunch of frogs before you get to the prince. No, it clearly had to be Nashville’s fault for having more churches than she was comfortable with.
You know what, Maggie Flynn? You go on and enjoy living in LaLa land. I hope you and your fiance are enjoying all your sunny easy liberalism, ’cause we’re getting along just fine with one less smug fraktard fairweather liberal here in the South.
Tags: Eddie Long, FAIL!, foolishness, hot ass mess, idiots, pimping black misery
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Fig. 1: Yep. This fool’s back.
Children, I’ve been slacking. I had stopped paying attention to Fake Bishop Eddie Wrong-As-Hell after I heard that the lawsuit against him by four men was going into arbitration. I assumed that we’d hear some tiny little blurb and then he’d agree to pay out millions of dollars and there’d be nothing more to say.
Well, I guess this jheri-wigged charlatan has to get money somehow in order to pay off those boys, because here he is, distorting the Bible in order to get dollars. What’s this foolishness about “calling all men together to pray”? Honey, you know what I call that? A Friday night at Bulldog’s in Midtown, that’s what. He needs to quit it with this foolishness. But unsurprisingly, this arrogant moron will persist in his nonsense and try to take every dollar he can from any and every besotted Atlantan who is silly enough to still be drinking his flavor of Kool-Aid. Reportedly, attendance at his “church” is down and he’s having to lay off people.
I wonder if he’s cut his own salary?