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T&A In Comics: A Rant January 22, 2012

Posted by Skippy in Comics, Rants, Sexuality.
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Children, look at this image of X-person Psylocke:

Fig. 1: Chiropractors in the comic book world must be insanely rich.

Jesus H. Tebowing Christ from Vulcan. This is an image taken from Generation Hope #15. The woman with her tits and ass in such an absurd, spine-breaking position is supposedly X-person Psylocke. THIS is why we need more women artists and writers. I guarantee that you’d NEVER see Wolverine or Cyclops drawn wearing butt-floss and arching their posteriors like that. You’d NEVER see Spider-Man drawn thrusting his throbbing package in your face (well, you won’t see that in the mainstream comics–I can’t speak for what you’ll find in the form of fan art)*.
*warning: link is NSFW

As others have pointed out, if mainstream comics drew male superheroes the way female superheroes are drawn, fans (largely fanboys) would lose their shit. CNN would likely do at least one report on the sexualization of comic book heroes. Ever noticed how Batman, Superman, Thor, Spider-Man, etc., etc., are always fully-clothed? Ever noticed how most male superhero costumes are functional in some way? Granted, they are designed to be skin-tight and accentuate the exaggerated musculature, but never will you ever see an exaggeration of their crotch. Never. You will also never see a male superhero designed so that he is bare-chested, unless he’s Tarzan or Conan.

Folks, male comic book artists need to come into the 20th century and get it right. Even more so, the major companies (Marvel and DC) need to get it right. It might have been cute at one point to draw women that way, but holy mother of Spock, come on.


Skippy Hates Men’s Cologne Commercials December 19, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Popular Culture, Rants, Television.
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As you all know, I hate commercials. Well, who doesn’t? After all, commercials are the reason the DVR was invented. However, there are times in which I for some reason cannot avoid commercials. At any rate, I happened to see a commercial that simultaneously befuddled and irritated me:

Fig. 1: Someone, kill me now. Correction: someone kill him now.

I don’t think I’d ever heard of Paco Rabanne before seeing this commercial; now that I know this “fragrance” exists, I wish I had the power to drive this company out of existence.
1. The music is just so garish.
2. Why do men’s cologne commercials have these emaciated emotwinks? Is this what is allegedly “sexy”?
3. Wearing this fragrance will not grant you massive telekinetic powers–and even if it does, you shouldn’t use those powers to strip off women’s clothes.
4. Also, wearing this fragrance will not immediately transform you into a jet-setting nouveau rich emotwink.

To be fair, this isn’t limited to this Paco Rabanne. It seems this weekend was “men’s cologne commercial weekend,” so I saw commercials from brands like Giorgio Armani and Bleu De Chanel:

Fig. 2: This was actually directed by Martin Scorsese.

“I’m not going to be the person I’m expected to be”?!? What? What does spritzing yourself with an overpriced alcohol-based concoction have to do with this emotwink being…an apparently self-indulgent emotwink? If I need to have read Deluze, Irigiray and Derrida to try to make sense of your commercial pushing cologne, then you have missed the fucking point. I get it—you want to present a “high class” image for your stink oil. You want viewers to associate your particular brand with wealth, glamour, and…a certain kind of emaciated masculinity, I guess. Guess what? So does Acura and Lexus and Infiniti and Mercedes-Benz and BMW. What’s the difference? Their commercials actually sell luxury without being ridiculous. How about doing that?

Fig. 3: Don Draper is not impressed with your cologne commercials.

Rick Perry: Wrong December 8, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Politics, Rants.
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As his campaign for the GOP presidential nomination continues its spiral into irrelevancy, Texas governor and Ronald Reagan-wannabe Rick Perry decided to release a campaign ad that seems more like something the Onion would create as a parody:

Fig. 1: WHAAAAT?!?

Just in case your brain went all explodey from the stupid and you missed the arglebargle spewing forth from his fool mouth, here’s a helpful transcript:

“I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a Christian, but you don’t need to be in the pew every Sunday to know there’s something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military but our kids can’t openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school. As President, I’ll end Obama’s war on religion. And I’ll fight against liberal attacks on our religious heritage. Faith made America strong. It can make her strong again.”

Again: WHAAAT?!?

Okay, let’s take this apart, shall we?

“I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a Christian…”
Unlike those other Republicans who are so ashamed to let anyone know they claim to worship the same imaginary, infanticidal, pestilential sky god!

“…but you don’t need to be in the pew every Sunday to know there’s something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military but our kids can’t openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school.”
Hey apple! Let’s compare you to orange! And while I’m at it, why don’t I imply something’s wrong with you? Ok, Rick, let’s help you understand a couple of things, since you’re, well, a fucking idiot:
* What the fuck is wrong with gays serving openly in the military? Oh, that’s right, you’re a fucking idiot.
* Kids can pray their stupid little brains out in school. They just can’t inveigle anyone else to or have the public school system endorse their particular parent-imposed delusion.
* Kids can also “openly celebrate Christmas.” But you’re a fucking idiot, so you probably missed that point.

“As President, I’ll end Obama’s war on religion.”
I’m sorry, but when did President Obama declare a war on religion? Did that happen during the Inauguration, when fat fuck Rick Warren was invited to give a prayer?

“And I’ll fight against liberal attacks on our religious heritage.”
Dude, seriously. What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a parody?

“Faith made America strong. It can make her strong again.”
I have faith that America won’t allow such a bottom-feeding dumbfuck such as yourself to be within a light-year of the presidency.

It’s A Conspiracy! In 3D! November 15, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Movies, Popular Culture, Rants.
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Children, I have a few words about 3D movies and the apparent conspiracy to make me pay more to see a lot less. This weekend, I was all geeked to go see “Immortals.” As always, I’m a sucker for special effects-laden movies featuring ridiculously hot guys, so I fired up the Intarwebz and went to Fandango to find out what time this movie would be showing.

Here’s what I got:

Fig. 1: Huh, what?

Only two times for this blockbuster to be seen as a regular movie? Um, okay. And basically, the 2:30 time is open only to people who either a) have no job and lots of free time and money or b) really don’t give a flying fuck about their jobs so that they will blow off a day to see this movie, but not in 3D. Ah, well, I thought. Perhaps I’ll go see this movie in 3D, annoying 3D glasses over my glasses be damned. So I clicked on a matinee time—how much more expensive can a movie at four in the afternoon be?

Fig. 2: THE FUCK?!?

Movie theaters are basically strong-arming people into paying more. Again, I know that movie theaters have to compete with Netflix, Dish, DirecTV, and a generally FUBAR’d economy, but this is not the way to go about making more money. And don’t give me a bunch of bollocks about “choice”—there is virtually no choice in this scenario. If I have a 9-5, M-F job, I have to wait till Saturday or Sunday to see this movie at non-crazy prices. However, I can only see one matinee of this movie at non-crazy prices, and if I’m on a date…well, fuck all that. I’m probably going to be stuck with the 3D—and nothing I’ve read about this movie suggests that I must see this in 3D. Add in the Milk Duds I’m going to sneak in, plus the bottled water I’m going to buy, and I’m paying damn near $20 to watch a movie one damn time, when I can wait a couple of months and buy that fucker on Blu-Ray and watch it over and over again without the aggravation of a malfunctioning ticket kiosk, long lines at the concession stand, and idiots in the theater who won’t shut off their damn bright phone or their damn fool mouths. If this is the way movie theaters are going, I expect them to be extinct within a few years—and deservedly so.

Cars and Their Idiot Owners November 9, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Observations, Rants.
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Fig. 1: I wonder which pretentious douchebag will get this in the divorce.

Children, I hate when people turn their cars into outward displays of their inward douchebaggery. I’ve probably ranted about idiot owners’ propensity to turn their car into a festering boil on the ass of society, but I’ll give this another go-round—especially with the car pictured above.

1. Bragging to the world that you successfully pair-bonded is just begging for the universe to fuck your shit up.
I mean, really? “And they lived…happily ever after”?!? Do you two douchebags think that life really is some goddamn fairy tale? I don’t care if your wedding was an atrocious re-presentation of every cloying Disney cliche, real life has a way of intervening and telling you to shut the fuck up and deal with the real. So, keep it up, pretentious douchebags. Check in in about ten years after one of you has gained twenty pounds and the other is going bald faster than you can say “going bald.” Check in after one of you has lost all that sexual vigor because you’ve got three rugrats demanding your attention left, right, and center. And just wait till one of you starts that affair with the officemate. We’ll see how that gaudy stencil on your car fares.

2. Your pretentious douchebaggery is not going to win new friends and influence enemies.
The stencil screams, “We’re awesomely ignorant fuckwads who don’t give a shit about being low-key and will take any and every opportunity to be awesomely ignorant fuckwads. IN YOUR FACE, SINGLE PEOPLE!” Again, just because you successfully pair-bonded (for the moment) doesn’t mean that you have to use your car as a battering ram of douchebaggery. If you assholes are really happy, people will know it. In the meantime, everyone will just think, “What a bunch of fucking assholes.”

3. The Jesus fish really adds to the pretentious douchebaggery.
Just looking at this car, I am fairly confident that these pretentious douchebags are the type to loudly and obsequiously thank Jesus for any and everything. They probably live in a McMansion and go to some “blab it and grab it” church where their blessed union was blandly celebrated. They probably think that Jesus had something to do with their pair-bonding and looks down upon their sweaty, commercial-length sex as something awesome, as it will likely produce a bunch of dumb offspring who will contribute fuck-all to the world. Of course, since Jesus was responsible for them hooking up and them driving a shitty SUV and living Where In The Fuck, Georgia, I guess they think he deserves some kind of shout-out. It’s more likely they also want to show the world of Where In The Fuck, Georgia that they too, believe in Jesus, unlike the other heathens of their small burg.

Seriously, people. Think before you put pretentious assed stencils on your car. Not everyone gives a flying shit about you. In fact, no one gives a flying shit about which particular deity you choose to pay obeisance to, or whether or not you successfully contributed to the overpopulation of the planet. Just drive the damn car and get out of my way.

Vegetarian Bumper Stickers: A Rant September 9, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Rants, Uncategorized.
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The other day, I went to the grocery store—you know, my favorite place in the world. Anyway, I pulled into my parking space, and found that I was parked next to an SUV bearing the following annoying, overbearing, utterly douchetastic bumper sticker:

Fig. 1: Bumper sticker of a douchebag.

I really wanted to write a note to the owner of the pretentious SUV with that bumper sticker and other car magnets featuring their kid’s soccer league and haute taute day school that said:

It is apparent that you think eating meat is the hallmark of a thoughtless individual who doesn’t have quite the cognitive abilities that you allegedly possess. Have you considered that your bumper sticker is indicative of a simple mentality that seeks to elevate itself on a purely arbitrary basis? Have you considered that human beings, the primates that we are, have a natural disposition towards eating meat? Certainly, as rational creatures, we can choose to not eat meat–however, that choice does not make you or anyone else a morally superior person, as your bumper sticker so arrogantly asserts. Furthermore, while you’re congratulating yourself in the most elitist and offensive way for not eating meat, have you considered that driving an SUV is not helping the poor animals you claim to be so concerned about? Your vehicle isn’t a hybrid or an electric vehicle; therefore, you’re contributing to pouring tons of exhaust into the air; in turn this further damages the climate, which in turn ruins the habitats of those animals you refuse to eat. Well done!

A Meat-Eating Wielder of a Ph.D.

P.S. Life is not good, either. Only an idiot who is totally ensconced in an upper middle class bourgeois lifestyle and utterly lacking in any awareness of the world around them would put that shitty sticker on their car.

A New “Reality” Show: Just What the World Needs August 16, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Popular Culture, Rants.
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Fig. 1: More vapid famewhores!

This will not be a full recap of the first episode of Bravo’s new “reality” show “Most Eligible Dallas”—what the hell kind of name is that for a show,anyway? I don’t want to get your hopes up in thinking I would spend an hour of my life every week watching this unconscionably awful putrefaction. I do, however, want to record my impressions from having watched part of this excrement.

So, apparently, some meth-addled execs at Bravo wondered which major American city hadn’t yet been sullied by reality television. As they sat around on the pipe and tweaking or whatever it is meth-heads do after a four day meth binge, one of them momentarily popped out of his drug-induced haze and slurred, “Dallassss!” And thus, “Most Eligible Dallas” was born.

This show is allegedly about the “lives” of six allegedly “beautiful” and “rich” and “young” Dallas humanoids and their petty, vain, useless thoughts about the things that preoccupy all beautiful and rich and young humanoids: drinking, sex, more drinking, and being beautiful (externally, not internally). As with introductory shows, we have to first lay the groundwork for “who” these petty, vain and useless humanoids are. Like I said, I only watched part of this abortion, but what I did see made me want to get a posse together to go to Dallas and beat these fools into a coma. Believe me, that would be an improvement.

Let’s meet the famewhores!

Glenn Pakulak is A has-been who never really was. He’s a punter for the Oakland Raiders…
[Skippy spends a few minutes laughing uncontrollably]
…who fancies himself a model.
[Skippy spends a few more minutes laughing uncontrollably]
Ok. So, yeah. This fool really thinks he’s a model. He even says that he totally has the goods to be a model. Yeah, Glenn. You and the five hundred other younger, more attractive and more experienced guys out there. Better stick to what you know, dude. Oh, and he fancies himself a “player,” as evidenced by his predilection for putting together outfits that scream, “I’M A DOUCHEBAG!!!” He probably singlehandedly has more Ed Hardy T-shirts than all of the Metroplex.

Neill Skylar: Aside from having a name that came straight from “Dynasty,” this humanoid’s only real purpose is to be the “girlfriend” (i.e., fuckpuppet) of the one person douchier than Glenn…

Matt Nordgren: This guy fairly screams, “I HAVE A TEENY, TINY PENIS AND NO BRAIN.” He’s worse than Glenn in that he tries to act like a player, but then denies acting like a player. He appears generically pretty, but like a Monet, the longer you stare, the more you realize that he’s quite ugly. He’s all ears and forehead and duh face. And then you stare into his blank eyes and realize that the only thing going on behind them is him scheming how to get you into bed and wondering if you’ll give him head.

Oh! And he has a giant balding spot that looks more like Jupiter’s Great Red Spot. He can act all cocky and say dumb shit like, “I consider myself the total package for sure. … Everything in my life, I’ve been groomed to be a great man. … If you want to hate on me for being a single and 28 … Fine. Do it,” but at the end of the day, he’s losing his hair at 30 and doesn’t have the kind of looks that will carry him into 40, much less 50.

Courtney Kerr: She’s the frumpiest humanoid in this sorry lot. She wears a lot of bumpits and doesn’t seem to know how to create a hairdo that doesn’t add ten years to her age. She’s a killjoy…and worse, she’s obviously lusting after the aforementioned Matt. She’s such a doormat, that when Matt the Balding Douchebag calls virtually every fake blonde in his contact list and Courtney to find some folks to hang out with at some tiresome bar, she fairly jumps at the chance to be around her last, best hope for impregnation. And then she’s pissed as hell when the fake blondes show up. But the shade she throws at the tiresome bar pales in comparison to the SHADE she throws Neill when Matt the Balding Douchebag shows up with her in tow at some chi-chi-frou-frou restaurant. Of course, Matt’s such a Douchebag that he clearly sees what’s up and stokes Courtney’s ire. She’s an idiot for playing like his “friend” and he’s an idiot for stringing her along.

Finally, we have the only gay guy in the group, Drew Ginsburg. Children, I have never seen a sadder gay in my entire life. He’s all braggadocio and self-hate and overcompensation. He’s the scion of some high end car dealer and acts like he’s the freakin’ heir to the Throne of Gondor…until the mask slips and you get to see just how much he hates himself. Boy howdy! Ok, so he used to weigh 450 pounds, but lost the weight through discipline, hard work, and an honest evaluation of self a gastric bypass…and doses of a female hormone. Seriously. We watch as he pulls out a syringe filled with the hormone and injects it into his flank. What’s it supposed to do? I don’t remember, but I do remember him telling the assembled famewhores that if he took a pregnancy test, it would register positive. Awesome! And by “Awesome!” I mean, “Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!?”

Oh, and Our Drew is gay. But he’s not like those other gays, what with their feather boas and lipstick and self-respect, no siree, Bob! Our Drew is a manly man and he proves it by being homophobic at nearly every turn. Here’s an example:

I’m not your stereotypical gay man. Gasoline runs in my veins. To me there is nothing more exciting than hearing the roar of that engine. … I live in one of the most expensive, prestigious addresses in uptown Dallas. I’ve got a view that’s a panty dropper. When I need something, I just press a button. … People look at me and say “How the f*ck are you gay? You sell cars! I don’t know. I’ve broken the mother-f*cking mold all my life.

Okay. For those you who didn’t get it, here’s what we’ve learned about The Gays from Our Drew:
1. We the Gays don’t drive cars and if we do, we sure as hell don’t know the difference between a four-cylinder and eight-cylinder engine.
2. Living in a prestigious address in uptown Dallas has everything to do with your sexual proclivities and masculine carriage.
3. Selling cars totally means that you’re straight, because no gay man has ever, in the history of cars, ever sold one.

You know, if you took out “gay” and replaced it with “woman” or “Black,” you’d have groups like NOW or the NAACP blowing up Bravo’s voicemail in protest. But with the mere “inclusion” of this self-loathing reptile, Bravo thinks they’ve done us a huge favor. Compare Drew to the other two troglodytes: Drew went to Georgetown for law school and has a legitimate career and options should he decide to not continue selling expensive cars. But because he (and by extension, Bravo) has an extraordinarily low opinion of himself/other gays, we will be treated to looking at him as a sideshow freak standing on the outside looking in while the other heterosexuals get the majority of the screen time. Way to represent, Drew!

Skippy’s Got Some Words About “The Help” August 7, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Black folks, Observations, Popular Culture, Racism, Rants.
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Fig. 1: The White Lady’s Burden

I’ve seen commercials for this movie every time I turn on the television. I’d heard about the book, but then when I heard they were making this book into a movie, I knew this would be yet another in a long line of movies that revolve around The White Man’s Burden and/or The Magical Negro.

Figs. 2 & 3: Hollywood loves this shit.

Hollywood loves crap like this because it allows producers of this tripe to think that they’re being all liberal and shit. What pisses me off about “The Help” is that the black women in the movie become the vehicle by which The White Lady achieves self-actualization. To me, it’s the rankest form of Hollywood racism; shitfilms like this make Hollywood whites feel good about themselves (“Look at us! We’re so liberal, we made a movie about them darkies the African Americans and how we helped them not be so backward/forgotten/mistreated! We’re awesome! Let’s give us an Oscar!”); at the end of the day, the movie isn’t about African Americans at all. These movies wind up being about white people…and their burden.

Fig. 4: Starring Emma Stone and a bunch of Black women!

Skippy Hates Romantic Comedies August 4, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Popular Culture, Rants.
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Children, there is an epidemic in this nation that I need to address. It is the epidemic of romantic comedies. It seems like this summer has seen a lot of stupid romantic comedies—I guess we either get loud, insanely stupid movies, or dumb shit supposedly written for women. What tipped it for me was this:

Fig. 1: Dear God, make it stop!!

I hate romantic comedies. They’re just so damned stupid. They epitomize pretty much everything that I think is wrong with American moviemaking:

1. They’re whiter than white bread smothered in mayonnaise.
Have you noticed that 98% of the “rom-coms” feature white folks as the leads? Oh, sure, there’s the Sassy Black Friend, but she’s usually there just to prop up the stupid, simpering “heroine.” She goes shopping with the Simpering Heroine and occasionally lunches with this intolerable heifer who only talks about and thinks about herself. She’s there to listen and provide comic relief and present the illusion of diversity in an otherwise whiteout of a movie. Yeah, they’ve even started doing the Hip Black Friend—the male counterpart to Sassy Black Friend. His job is to prop up the stupid bohunk. You see them playing basketball together and discussing why Stupid Bohunk a) hasn’t had sex with Simpering Heroine or b) how Stupid Bohunk is now Developing Feelings for Simpering Heroine. Again, he’s there for the Stupid Bohunk and is never developed beyond that. Basically, you can’t have too many people who aren’t white in a rom-com, or else it gets marketed as a rom-com…for non-white people.

Fig. 2: What? Black people fall in love too? Where’s the guns and the violence? Oh, it’s about sports. Whew!

2. They’re formulaic beyond sense and reason.
Even if there’s a rom-com with Black folk in it, it still has to follow the stupid formula of nearly every damned Hollywood romantic comedy:

a) Douchebag Meets Douchebag
Usually these two wastes of skin meet accidentally and sometimes, they take an instant disliking to each other. The female douchebag is usually a go-getter of some sort (and is usually played by Katherine Heigl, who inherited the crown from Julia Roberts) and she can’t stand the sexist pig bastard male douchebag (Gerard Butler or Ashton Kutcher…or maybe even Justin Timberlake), because the sexist pig bastard male douchebag is just so douchebaggy.
b)The Douchebags Must Work Together!
Enter the plot contrivance. Due to work or other unforseen circumstances, the douchebags must work together, or cooperate to avoid some other problematic plot development. Now, these douchebags must try to recreate the on-screen chemistry of Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn…which they never do, so they just wind up looking dumber than before. It’s at this point that you should probably eject the DVD or walk out of the theater in shame.
c) The Douchebags Fall In Love!
The idiots have boring, impossibly chaste sex.
d) Something Stands in the Way of True Love!
More plot contrivances occur, usually in the form of misheard conversations, emails not received, or the ubiquitous Evil Ex. The Evil Ex shows up to really fuck shit up. Hell, sometimes the Ex really isn’t that evil, but the Stupid Bohunk overhears Simpering Heroine having a conversation with the Ex and then sees them hugging. Oh, noes! Now, a regular, normal human being with half a gnat’s brain might ask, “Hey, why were you hugging Stupid Bohunk?” No. Not in the rom-com. This will lead to a major blow up and then the relationship is off and then the two idiots go their separate ways and we have to sit and watch a montage of their sad, sexless lives…set to the music of some insipid bastard.
e) The Idiots Find Their Way Back To Each Other
Even more plot contrivances occur to bring the stupid idiots back into each others’ orbits. The Truth of the misunderstanding is revealed, and the two plastic, shiny happy idiots fuck off into the sunset, and white heterosexuality and fantasies of monogamy are preserved and reinforced, as Aretha Franklin or the Temptations or some other Motown act sings about love and happiness and I choke back enough bile to fill a small lake.

3. They’re heteronormative retarded fantasies that reinforce male privilege.
The obvious question is this: if these movies are so awful (they are), then why does Hollywood keep churning them out? First, I think that Hollywood would implode if a studio exec had an original thought. Plus, rom-coms are easy. They’re not big budget affairs, so you can make your money back on the damn thing after one or two fairly decent weekends. That doesn’t bother me so much as this next thought: I think that Hollywood makes these offensive pieces of drivel because Americans love indulging in fantasy worlds where men are “Men” and women are “Women.” Much like the science fiction adventure flick or any episode of “Law and Order,” the romantic comedy gives the viewer a ridiculously simple version of the world. The Men and Women in these movies are overwhelmingly heterosexual—we gays only show up to prop up heterosexuality, much like the Sassy Black Friend or the Basketball Playing Black Friend.

The Men and Women either know or eventually learn their proper place. Like any shitty Tyler Perry movie, the romantic comedy reinforces the “Cinderella” fantasy implanted in girls’ heads by doll manufacturers, the wedding industry, religious institutions, and TLC. Yeah, Barbie can have a job. Yeah, Barbie can be self-sufficient. But we all know that what will make Barbie complete is a tamed man! What Career Barbie needs is “love”—well, not the kind of love that people find in the real world. No, the “love” proffered by these ninety-minute shitfests is so banal, so trite, that it’s hardly deserving of the word. However, that doesn’t matter to Hollywood. “Love” is merely the schtick that is proffered to sell the dreck that is a romantic comedy. It is a fantasy rooted in male dominance, female submission, and the complete assimilation and obliteration of difference into a hazy, Motown soundtrack-backed upper middle-class dreamworld. We go see this schlock and walk away with all sorts of foolish bullshit in our heads that reinforces the foolish bullshit we’ve been programmed with since birth.

Fuck You, Donald Trump. April 27, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Politics, Racism, Rants.
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No. Seriously.

Fuck. You.

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.