jump to navigation

Rick Perry: Wrong December 8, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Politics, Rants.
Tags: , , , , ,
add a comment

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.


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

Posted by Skippy in Popular Culture, Rants.
Tags: , , ,
1 comment so far

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!

The Bourne Miscommunication July 12, 2011

Posted by Skippy in General Weirdness, Humor.
add a comment

Children, there is an old British sitcom that I love called “Keeping Up Appearances.” It’s about this woman, Hyacinth Bucket, who is constantly trying to convince her neighbors and pretty much anyone who crosses her path that she is of higher social standing than she actually is. The show is all about her class snobbery and how her downmarket relations and her own arrogance usually trips her up—for example, she insists on pronouncing her last name as Bouquet (“The Bouquet residence, the lady of the house speaking” is her preferred way of answering her slim white telephone with automatic redial). It’s full of dry wit and broad humor, and I love it. However, up till now, I never considered that a human being would actually comport themselves in a way so thoroughly reminiscent of Hyacinth.

Well, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, meet Carolyn Bourne, mother-in-law-to-be to Heidi Withers. Withers, it seems, had the temerity to get engaged to Bourne’s son, Freddie. She even had the appalling gall to, on a visit, not show all the proper graces that Mrs. Bourne expects of any young woman wishing to wed her precious son Freddie. Well, in the face of such shameful displays (the likes of which we only have Mrs. Bourne’s word for), Mrs. Bourne decided to do what all people of good breeding and character do: send Ms. Withers a scathing email.

Frankly, you can’t tell me that Mrs. Bourne probably took one look at Ms. Withers and immediately decided that her precious Freddie was NOT going to marry this downmarket, common American. Oh, no. And anything that Ms. Withers did would probably never meet with Mrs. Bourne’s approval. Now, other sites have been content to post the email (which is long) and leave it at that. Not I. No, I think that what this email needs is translation, because there’s A LOT going on in this email. And no, I am not making this email up. Seriously.
(Mrs. Bourne’s Comments in Bold; Skippy’s Translation in plain text)

It is high time someone explained to you about good manners. Yours are obvious by their absence and I feel sorry for you.
I hate you and it’s time I told you so.

Unfortunately for Freddie, he has fallen in love with you and Freddie being Freddie, I gather it is not easy to reason with him or yet encourage him to consider how he might be able to help you.
Unfortunately, Freddie, my golden child, love of my life, fruit of my loins, does not.

It may just be possible to get through to you though. I do hope so.
It may be possible to harass you enough to dissuade you from marrying my precious Freddie. I hope so, for I hate you.

Your behaviour on your visit to Devon during April was staggering in its uncouthness and lack of grace.
Everything you did, up to and including breathing, pissed me right off.

Unfortunately, this was not the first example of bad manners I have experienced from you.
This isn’t the first time your breathing pissed me right off.

If you want to be accepted by the wider Bourne family I suggest you take some guidance from experts with utmost haste.
I am an expert. In hating you. Oh, and nothing you can do will ever make me stop talking shit about you to each and every member of my family. I hate you.

There are plenty of finishing schools around. You would be an ideal candidate for the Ladette to Lady television series.
You belong on reality television, like your fellow trashy Americans.

Please, for your own good, for Freddie’s sake and for your future involvement with the Bourne family, do something as soon as possible.
For the love of GOD, please don’t have any children!

Here are a few examples of your lack of manners:
I will now recount each and every thing you did that makes me hate you. Remember, I hate you.

When you are a guest in another’s house, you do not declare what you will and will not eat – unless you are positively allergic to something.
I’m totally going to contradict myself in a few sentences. See what you make me do? I heard that offhand remark you made to Freddie, you cow.

You do not remark that you do not have enough food. (Skippy: Wait. Was she eating or not eating? Which is it, Mrs. Bourne?)
You are clearly a fat, overfed American cow who is trying to infect us with your fat American genes.

You do not start before everyone else.
I saw you, stuffing your fat face. Stupid, fat hobbit.

You do not take additional helpings without being invited to by your host.
When a guest in another’s house, you do not lie in bed until late morning in households that rise early – you fall in line with house norms.

I could go on about you eating everything in this house and then saying that you wouldn’t eat everything in this house, but I must now harp on your fat laziness, you fat, lazy American cow. What, we didn’t tell you that we arise at six o’clock sharp for inspection? Well, you should have known, you fat, lazy American cow!

You should never ever insult the family you are about to join at any time and most definitely not in public. I gather you passed this off as a joke but the reaction in the pub was one of shock, not laughter. (Skippy: The hell did she do? Piss on a dead person’s grave? Say she’s a supporter of Manchester United? Vote Labour?)
I am incensed that other people liked you. It’s clearly all your fault.

I have no idea whether you wrote to thank [your future sister-in-law] for the weekend but you should have hand-written a card to her.
Now I’m just making shit up. I hate you.

You should have hand-written a card to me. You have never written to thank me when you have stayed at Houndspool.

[Your future sister-in-law] has quite the most exquisite manners of anyone I have ever come across. You would do well to follow her example.
I like [Your future sister-in-law]. She is not a fat, stupid, lazy American cow. Be like her, even though I know you can’t.

You regularly draw attention to yourself. Perhaps you should ask yourself why.
It is tragic that you have diabetes. However, you aren’t the only young person in the world who is a diabetic.

I really hope you fall into a diabetic coma and die. But I really can’t write that, so…don’t ever mention that you have diabetes, you attention-seeking cow.

I know quite a few young people who have this condition, one of whom is getting married in June. I have never heard her discuss her condition.
She quietly gets on with it. She doesn’t like being diabetic. Who would? You do not need to regale everyone with the details of your condition or use it as an excuse to draw attention to yourself. It is vulgar.

Other people who have diabetes? Well, I like them. I don’t like you, so any time you ever mention having diabetes is just you being an attention-seeking, fat, stupid, lazy American cow.

As a diabetic of long standing you must be acutely aware of the need to prepare yourself for extraordinary eventualities, the walk to Mothecombe beach being an example.
You are experienced enough to have prepared yourself appropriately.

I was hoping that that walk to the beach would have finished you off. Now all those ninjas I hired to kill you with poison darts went to waste. Curses!

No-one gets married in a castle unless they own it. It is brash, celebrity style behaviour.
I understand your parents are unable to contribute very much towards the cost of your wedding. (There is nothing wrong with that except that convention is such that one might presume they would have saved over the years for their daughters’ marriages.)
If this is the case, it would be most ladylike and gracious to lower your sights and have a modest wedding as befits both your incomes.

Ok, if I haven’t pissed you off by now, then gird your loins, cow. I’m now coming after your fat, lazy, broke-ass American family. Your family is fat. Lazy. And they are broke. They are clearly even more trashy than you are, since they’re not ponying up for this wedding. I also hate every choice you’ve made regarding this wedding, including having it at a castle. Didn’t some other trashy American also get married in a castle? Well, then you’re also guilty by random association, you shrew. You clearly should be getting married at the free clinic.

One could be accused of thinking that Heidi Withers must be patting herself on the back for having caught a most eligible young man. I pity Freddie.
I hate you. I really, really, REALLY hate you, you money-grubbing, attention-seeking, overeating, persnickety, joke-telling, lazy, fat, overfed, non-beach-walking, probably-street-walking, poor-family-having bitch. I bet you tricked him into thinking you were pregnant.

Idiot Racists Are…Well, Idiot Racists. July 5, 2011

Posted by Skippy in General Weirdness, Observations, Politics, Racism, Xenophobia.
Tags: , , , , ,
1 comment so far

Fig. 1: A racist picture is worth a thousand racist words.

Ok, so you all are probably familiar with the proverb, “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” I suppose that we must now add a corollary: “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to wear a stupid T-shirt and remove all doubt.” Apparently, the Kentucky Tea Party (read: modern form of the KKK) decided it would be tres’ cool to produce and sell—on the Fourth of July, no less—T-shirts bearing the phrases “Yup, I’m a Racist” and “Infidel: Everything I Need to Know About Islam I Learned on 9/11.”

Just when you thought clothing couldn’t get any douchebaggier than the “Affliction” Ed Hardy T-shirts, here comes the Kentucky Tea Party to take the cake and put a KKK cake-topper on it! I suppose these good folks still want to see the long-form birth certificate, love Michelle Bachmann, and think that The Homosexual Agenda actually exists. I also suppose I shouldn’t be too upset—frankly, if I see someone wearing such a T-shirt, it tells me everything I need to know about them in delightful brevity. It tells me that this person is extremely stupid, for the following reasons:

1. It tells me that this person is, in fact, a racist.
You see, if this shirt is supposed to be “ironic,” then it fails miserably. As we all know, the Tea Party gained a reputation for being racist, as the “party” formed in response to the emergence of Barack Obama as the Democratic nominee for President of the United States, and members of this party have been caught on tape spouting some pretty bigoted nonsense and tomfoolery. Leaders in the party have tried to extinguish such perceptions by occasionally letting the odd (and I do mean odd) Black person in the party speak and say, “Hey, we’re not racist.” Also, they tend to focus on economic issues, by claiming that Obama is a Socialist. Just don’t ask them what a Socialist is. They can’t tell you. Anyway, anyone who has to go out of their way to tell you they’re not something usually is that something.

2. It tells me that this person is given to allowing T-shirt slogans and bumperstickers to represent complex issues.
To me, there’s something awfully juvenile about these shirts. But then again, I think there’s something awfully juvenile about message T-shirts. If you see a man or woman over the age of thirty wearing such a shirt, question their maturity. Question it early, question it often. The same thing goes for bumperstickers. I have grown sick and tired of seeing people “sloganize” their damned cars and their torsos. Frankly, I don’t care if you eat vegan or buy local or think that Obama is a baby-raping Socialist devil from the ninth circle of Hell. I really don’t care to be stuck behind your stupid Prius or stupid Land Behemoth and looking at a damned stick stencil of your monuments to overpopulation, nor do I care to know just how much you LOVE Jesus or your wife or your Yorkshire Terrier. Complex issues in this world cannot be reduced to puerile T-shirts or bumperstickers. And if the Tea Party wants to dispel the assertions of racism, then perhaps the leaders need to get a better grip on their brand messaging. This T-shirt doesn’t help.

3. It tells me that this person is willingly ignorant.
When you see a douchebag wearing this shirt, that should tell you that this is a person who is perhaps spoiling for either attention or a fight. This is a person who is proud to be in an organization that is polarizing and ill-informed. They most likely have very black-white views of the world and their membership in this “party.” Do not engage them. Hell, don’t even look at them as you pass them by at a public event, for this kind of idiot—much like other kinds of idiots whom you might find on YouTube or the comments section of CNN.com—prides themselves on being woefully ignorant about a great many things.

Why Did I Watch “Why Did I Get Married, Too”? June 20, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Movies, This Week In Netflix.
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

SPOILER ALERT: The below missive will have many spoilers. If you do not wish to know major “plot” points of this movie, discontinue reading.

The “joy” of watching a Tyler Perry movie is knowing that I will not get anything other than a treacly, self-indulgent, badly written and directed two-hour tour de force of misogynistic tripe. So, Perry’s thoroughly unnecessary follow up to 2007’s “Why Did I Get Married?” completely fulfilled me. And by “fulfilled,” I mean “It enraged me to the point of apoplexy.” How his movies haven’t been brought before the Hague on charges of human rights violations is beyond me.

Anyway, so we return to the stupidly sordid world of four self-absorbed bourgeois African American couples and watch as they spout platitude-laden dialogue that could have been written by Oprah Winfrey or Deepak Chopra. This time, the stupid, self-absorbed bourgeois Buppies are jetting off to the Caribbean for their annual marriage retreat. Must be nice to go to the fucking Caribbean for a marriage retreat. Mind you, the first one was pretty fucking disastrous, so nothing says “smart” like doing the same damn thing again, right?

Fig. 1: Yeah, because these retreats are nothing but success!

You’d also think that these fools wouldn’t have much to be all angsty about after the first movie, right? Well, in order for there to be a second movie, Perry has to completely wipe away any character development that occurred in the first one. Angela (Tasha Smith), the Loud, Angry Black Woman has returned—if you remember, she supposedly had calmed the fuck down and had quit drinking. Well, not this time! She’s back, and louder and angrier than before. Her husband Marcus (Michael Jai White) is still cowed by her—the only difference is that now he has a job as an on-air personality (a job that Angela nearly gets him fired from). Gavin (Malik Yoba) and Pat (Janet Jackson) are still the picture-perfectly fucked up couple…and the death of their kid that you thought they had worked through in the first movie is still tearing them up. I guess Gavin wasn’t strong enough for the both of them. Terry (Tyler Perry) and Dianne (Sharon Leal) appear to be the picture of happiness…until we find out that Dianne is “emotionally cheating” on Terry. And finally, we have Sheila (Jill Scott) and Troy (Lamman Rucker), whose marriage is floundering because, at Sheila’s insistence, the couple has moved to Atlanta and Troy can’t find a job. Oh, and Snidely Blacklash (or, Mike, as he’s played by Richard T. Jones) returns, because he has a timeshare in the Caribbean and just happens to be there at the same time as the four buppie couples.

After yet another disastrous bit of sharing during which Pat announces to the group that she and Gavin are getting divorced, everyone abruptly returns to their fucked up lives. I won’t even bother with the tedious details of their stupid storylines, because they can all be summed up thusly: the marriages are all fucked up because these Black women are evil and will do evil shit. Let’s examine this, shall we?

Angela: Loud, obnoxious, abrasive, emasculating. Doesn’t trust “her man.” As of the first movie, she had been “domesticated” so that she had even quit drinking. Now, she’s back on the sauce and is always yelling at Marcus, driving him further and further away. A Good Black Woman would trust her man and not drink, for drinking is the sure sign of an Evil Black Woman.

Sheila: Selfish. Wanted to move to Atlanta, uprooting Troy from his job as a sheriff. His joblessness is all her fault. A Good Black Woman would have let Troy be the Only Black Sheriff in Colorado and not dragged him to the apparently jobless wilderness of Atlanta.

Dianne: Slut. In the first movie, she gets her tubes tied without telling Terry, knowing full well that Terry wanted a boy. Now, she got them untied and the couple has a boy and a girl. Only now, she’s having “an emotional affair” with some dude at work. And because women are more emotional than men, this is worse than having gotten some sweet, sweet lovin’—this wisdom is from the mouth of Terry. What an unbelievable slut. A Good Black Woman would shoot Dianne and then marry Terry and provide him with all the babies he wants.

Patricia: Evil Harpy from Hell. Her emotional disconnect from the death of their cross-eyed kid plus her selfishness leads to her declaring a divorce from Gavin. Further, she tries to hide assets from Gavin, leading to an acrimonious divorce, which ends…in Gavin dying in a fucking car wreck. A Good Black Woman would have taken care to properly strap their cross-eyed kid into the car and would have shared the profits from her book with her deserving husband.

This time around, nobody actually deals with their issues—after Gavin dies, all that happens is Patricia bellowing that everyone should get over their issues. And voila! Everybody does.


Oh, and to add insult to (fatal) injury, a year after Gavin gets pancaked by a rental van, Patricia is introduced to a “wealthy donor”…played by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. The grin on Patricia’s face was all “Fuck mourning! Helloooooo, Mr. Hottness!”

Y’all, I don’t even.

The End is Nigh! Again! May 14, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Culture, General Weirdness, Religion.
Tags: , , ,
add a comment

So says a bunch of people. From NPR:

Brian Haubert grabs some pamphlets and marches toward the flea market in Palmyra, N.J. Armed with a poster that trumpets Judgment Day on May 21, 2011, he braces for rejection. Announcing God’s wrath is not always a popular message.

“I’ve been called a heretic,” says Haubert, a 33-year-old actuary. “I’ve been told I read the wrong Bible. And then there’s the occasional person who seems to be genuinely interested,” he says.

His friend and fellow believer, Kevin Brown, uses a gentler approach, not confronting people or engaging in conversation, just politely handing out Judgment Day pamphlets.

Now see, I wouldn’t call Haubert a heretic.

I’d call him crazy.

Add him to the long list of people who have gotten their knickers in a twist because the world isn’t quite going the way they think it ought and hope for an imaginary sky-friend to come along and kill all the right people—ever noticed how the doomsayers are never the ones who are going to be on the receiving end of their preferred deity’s wrath? No, ma’am and no sir. These upstanding folks are all a bunch of Jor-Els, running around trying to warn us sinner folk of our sinning ways. Of course, religion isn’t the only culprit in these end of the world freak outs. Remember Y2K? Yeah, people lost their shit over a potential glitch in computers and acted like the End of Days was upon us. And then there’s the impending year 2012 in which woo-addled morons think that the world will end because some Mayans who were writing their dayplanners stopped at some point and said, “Hey, let’s grab some lunch and call it a day.”

Anyway, the world didn’t end in 2000—or in 1978 or in 1988 or when Barack Obama was elected President or when George W. Bush choked on a pretzel. But try telling that to the folks at WeCanKnow.com:

Fig. 1: Since I’m a godless sodomite and will be left behind, would you mind signing over all your financial assets to me?

These folks are convinced that there’s been some “special” revelation—which specifically contradicts Jesus’s assertion that no one would know the day nor hour in which the “end of the age” would occur. But hey, they claim that their only source for this special revelation is the Bible…I guess the very words of their religion’s founder simply don’t count for squat, but weird readings of Pauline letters do. Isn’t proof-texting fun?

Funny thing is, these folks never do reveal just how they came up with Saturday, May 21st, 2011 as the date in which their deity would decide to do something really dramatic. Why May 21st? Why not, say, 70 C.E.? Why not when the early church was deep in the shit and being persecuted left, right and center? Why not around the time of the Bubonic Plague or the Influenza Epidemic of the early 20th Century? Why not during the 1950s? And these are people who are clearly ill-informed about their own religion’s history when it comes to predicting “the end:”

Tough question first: What would you say in response to those who would argue that the Bible never talks about the rapture, nor does the word or concept appear in the Bible, but rather it is simply a 18th century theological construction?

Quite simply, they do not believe the Bible, nor do they understand the enormous relevance of the the resurrection, and subsequent glorification of the bodies of “most” true believers; there are a few exceptions – like Enoch, Elijah and others, who already possess their glorified spiritual bodies). While it is true that the word “Rapture” dos not appear in the Bible, the word “shall be caught up” does, as it appears in 1 Thes. 4:17 (as well as 12 other citation). Please note the very significant context of verses 13-18, plus it precedes one of the most important chapters on the Bible that we can absolutely KNOW the timing of the “catching up” and the Day of Judgment (which is a period of 153 days in actuality from May 21, 2011 – October 21, 2011) in 1 Thes. 5:1-5:

(source: The American Jesus.net)

These folks either don’t know or don’t care to know anything about John Nelson Darby, the British theologian responsible for this “rapture theology” to which they so blindly subscribe. Also, they’re so confident that this is happening, that they can’t even fathom responding to people on the 22nd. I daresay, next Sunday will be very interesting—especially since these folks can’t back off and say that “Oh, well, we got it wrong.”

Fig. 2: I wonder if these ladies will be smiling next week?

Fig. 3: That’s a pretty big matzo ball hanging out there.

News You Can Use: Donald Trump is a Friend to “The Blacks” April 15, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Observations, Politics, Racism.
Tags: , , , ,
add a comment

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.

Guess Who’s Back And Begging For Dollars? (A Hit Dog Hollers, Part 7) April 12, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Black folks, Observations, Religion.
Tags: , , , , ,
add a comment

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?

Mmm, hm.

Wonder Woman? I Think Not. March 28, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Comics, Observations, Popular Culture, Science Ficton.
Tags: , , ,

Gaze upon this trainwreck and tell me that David E. Kelley’s impending abomination won’t suck ten kinds of ass:

Fig. 1: Cheap-looking, and tacky.

Children, even Adrianne Palicki looks like she can’t believe she’s in this get-up. What’s wrong with this outfit? Let’s count:

1. It’s too damned shiny.
This looks like the televisual equivalent of JJ Abrams’ overuse of lens flares in Star Trek (2009). Could you imagine Wondy running around in broad daylight in this thing? Why, the reflections off of this getup would cause blindness in a five block radius.

2. It looks cheap.
As other bloggers have noted, this looks like a generic Superhero Halloween outfit, woman version. The supposed “gold” parts of the uniform don’t look at all like actual gold. Rather, they look like cheap plastic—of course, it is cheap plastic, but it shouldn’t look like cheap plastic. Even the bracelets look like cheap plastic.

3. That tiara is awful…actually, all of it is awful.
Seriously. Now, it seems that the producers and costume designers are following the recent “redesign” of Wonder Woman’s uniform in the comic books. It certainly looks a lot like it, but that tiara is supposed to be a bit more…pronounced. The bracelets look like craptacular. The bustier is just plain tragic.

Children, it looks like this televised Wonder Woman will be nowhere near the awesome cheesiness of the 1970s show. I was already skeptical when I read about David Kelley’s take on this superhero icon. The Ally McBeal-ish quirks and this pathetic costume redesign do not bode well. Oh, and it’s going to be on NBC, the network that brought you “Heroes” and “The Event.”

Soap Operas Are Not a Land of Diversity February 22, 2011

Posted by Skippy in Popular Culture, Racism, Rants.
Tags: , ,
1 comment so far

I am in a car dealership getting my oil changed. As I sit in the waiting room, the television is tuned to the local ABC affiliate and I, for the first time ever, am watching an episode of “General Hospital.” And so far, I’ve seen all of ONE African American on the show…and I think her name is “Epiphany.” She is portrayed by a dark-skinned African American woman of some size, and in her only scene so far, functioned only to console some white woman about her kid’s paternity or some such. Here is her character’s description:

Strong, tell-it-like-it-is Epiphany Johnson is a well-known zaftig figure around General Hospital. As a head nurse at General Hospital, everyone receives the same treatment from her – blunt. No doctor, nurse, surgeon or patient or visitor is immune from being taken to task by Epiphany if he or she is doing something wrong.

The great joy of Epiphany’s life was her son, Stanford, whom everyone called Stan. Stan worked for Sonny Corinthos, and not only did Epiphany not approve, but she felt he was wasting his electrical and technical talents. However, she never gave up on her boy. Stan died in 2007, the result of a mob hit as Epiphany was speaking with him on the telephone.

As a result, Epiphany suffered a heart attack in the hospital locker room area shortly after she received her son’s ashes. Today she is fully recovered and as feisty as always.

Frak me sideways. I don’t even know where to begin with this character. Oh, wait. I do.

Fig. 1: What us gon’ do, Sonny Corinthos?

Look, I realize that soap operas are not in any way accurate representations of the real world—I mean, I watch “Young and the Restless,” and if Genoa City were real, there would be some basic problems with the structure of the known universe. That’s a town where you can get from a coffeehouse to a ranch in 2.5 seconds on some days, and on other days it takes a whole episode. Oh, and you can run a multinational conglomerate with a high school education. And people come back from the dead with such regularity, Jesus could roll into town and everyone would say, “Meh. What else you got?”

So, yeah, I get it. These are purely romantic fantasies aimed squarely at women. But damn, really? We’re still trotting out the Mammy stereotype? In frakkin’ 2011? We’re squarely in the 21st century and we’ve still got tired 19th century stereotypes like Mammy, Jezebel and the Black Brute running through popular culture? Oh, have we got a long way to go.