Search This Blog

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Facebook Thinks Lesbians Are Pornography

Today I tried to log into my facebook account and found a message from them that a photo I had shared of two lesbians kissing in the nude was pornographic or violated their community standards.  It's total bullshit.  The photo of nude lesbians showed only that they were naked ... you couldn't see their genitalia or even their boobs.  But I am blocked for twenty-four hours for showing less nudity than a Michaelangelo statue.

I've said it before and I'll say it again:  Facebook is a twat.

First, Facebook (or, as they like to spell it with a lowercase f, facebook) doesn't have any community standards.  I see people's pages all the time that are filled with all kinds of crazy shit, but my page was blocked because I argue with a lot of bigots, assholes, and generally all-around fucked up hillbillies, and religious fanatics, some of whom probably went to my facebook page and complained about my non-nude nude lesbian photo.

Second, facesuck needs to change their bullshit policy of blocking people's personal pages.  There's nothing you can see on any newsfeed or anywhere else on the internet that you can't block if it offends you.  But they won't change their policy ... because semi-nude lesbians are just somehow wrong.

Fuck you, facebook.  In the ass.  With a dull-tipped, salt-topped spear.

:)

Friday, October 12, 2012

The Best Horror Movie Ever Made

by Richard Reynolds, AKA Mr. Doomed Stuffing

Horror films usually suck.  The reason is that most of them are low-budget with shitty actors and shitty scripts and shittier directors.  Horror isn't just about having a big monster's head come out of a closet and bite someone's head off unexpectedly, then showing buckets of blood that couldn't have possibly been inside the victim for the monster to spill out everywhere.

Good horror films should start creepy, build upon the creepiness layer by layer, then reach a climax that leaves you heaving your breath out of your lungs like you were shoveling wet sand until you had filled an empty swimming pool full of dead people.

A great horror movie is so rare that you could probably fit the list on a pinhead.  Great horror movies start creepy, build upon the creepiness layer by layer, then reach a climax that leaves you feeling like you were just attacked by two jaguars and a deranged traffic cop on PCP with a blackjack and who thinks you're the Devil.

The only film that has ever truly fit that bill with me is The Exorcist, directed by William Friedkin in an intentionally documentary style of realism that builds into a surrealistic swirl of terror-filled imagery.

I first saw it when I was about twelve, when the really nasty parts were cut for regular television (although plenty of nastiness was left in for my taste at the time).  I wasn't a squeamish kid.  I had been raised on Alfred Hitchcock films like Psycho ... and I would regularly sneak out of bed in the middle of the night to watch creature features and Eurotrash horror films from the late 1960's and early 1970's.  But I had never, ever seen anything remotely like The Exorcist.

The Exorcist knows no boundaries.  It introduces its particularly human characters, none of them especially exciting or funny ... most of the while you're watching these characters in the first thirty or forty minutes of the film, none of them really strikes you as someone you want to get killed off quickly so they won't annoy you anymore (as usually happens in most shitty horror films).  You don't find the characters especially interesting or their personalities especially note-worthy.  They are rather banal characters (although the film's main protagonist, Ellen Burstyn, who is brilliant in everything she does, plays a movie star ... even her character is rather banal and understated, but not at all annoying or obnoxious).  And while you're watching the first forty minutes, there are few, if any, scares -- maybe one, which happens in an attic and involves a candle.

Shortly after those first forty minutes, things get progressively fucked up.  The pace of the film doesn't so much quicken as it does starts, stops, starts, keeps going, stops, explodes, stops, and then fucking dementedly explodes into a culmination of the creepiest fucking sound effects ever done in film.  I felt traumatized after I watched the film on television for the first time as a kid; then I watched it every time I could until it no longer had that effect, and I kept watching it over and over, marveling at how well-executed the film was.  It was a perfect horror film, the best one ever done.  No horror film has surpassed it.

Stanley Kubrick made an OK horror film called The Shining.  It had creepiness, but it had the true horror-scare factor of maybe ten-billionths of The Exorcist (and I'm a big Jack Nicholson fan).

Some dickhead once suggested to me that The Amityville Horror was as scary as The Exorcist, and I wanted to projectile vomit into his face.  The Amityville Horror was one of the worst horror films of a significant budget ever made, and I felt it was disgraceful to mention that piece of shit in the same breath to say it was comparable in any fashion to The Exorcist.

I wish I had never seen The Exorcist, so that I could watch it now for the first time, and get that same feeling back I had the first time.  Alas, no film since has come close to the relentless tension and horror of that film, made back in 1973.

Oh, well.  They say never give up hope.

And then a monster eats them.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Message from the Stars

File:Stephen Hawking.StarChild.jpg
(Image of Stephen Hawking:  NASA)


I love astronomy.  Some of you (whomever you are ... I realize no one is probably ever going to read this, but I like to delude myself into believing that I have a mass readership) are probably wondering why you should give a fuck that I love astronomy.  Well, fuck you, you insouciant or downright callous readers (is it any wonder, really, that I don't have a mass readership when I am always so insistent upon insulting my non-existent mass readership?)

In any case, I developed an interest in astronomy unknowingly when I was a small child.  I would sit in a swing at a local park and stare directly into the sun, trying to visually resolve the star so that I could see the gigantic flames billowing across its impossibly bright sphere.  Don't do this.  It's terribly bad for your vision, which I was told only long after I had been doing this inadvisable activity for some time.  Also, you can't see any flames billowing across the sun's surface just by squinting at it, no matter how long you do it.

I never had a telescope as a child and was never encouraged by anyone during my lifetime that one was necessary.  Recently, a few years ago, I had the opportunity to purchase a telescope.  Since then, I developed my interest further, expanding it into an interest into astrophotography.  I have photographed star fields, planets, the Moon, the moons of Saturn and Jupiter, Saturn and Jupiter themselves, nebulae, and galaxies.  When you look at your first photograph you've taken of a galaxy, it is an experience almost incomparable in value.  (Look, sure, it's not necessarily as good as the first time you orgasmed into your fist, but I'm trying to keep this "Doomed Stuffing" blog entry uncharacteristically classy for once ... and undoubtedly failing miserably at doing so).

If you have a young son or daughter, try to interest them in this hobby before they're too old and get their minds taken away by the less-than-illuminating ventures of playing video games and smoking crack cocaine.  I have nothing against playing video games (I play them myself) or smoking crack cocaine (I just smoked a big rock myself, and I can tell you that my dealer totally fucked me over with too much baking soda ... that miserable comet-watching motherfucker!)  If you get your kid a decent telescope (they're cheaper than you think, if you read up on the free internet advice in "Sky and Telescope" magazine or "Astronomy" or on many other websites), and get him or her several amateur astronomy books (the best is "The Backyard Astronomer's Guide," and a sky atlas -- my favorite is probably "The National Audobon Society's Field Guide to the Night Sky" -- you could potentially be raising another Einstein or a Stephen Hawking, hopefully without the ALS, instead of raising just another hick who will grow up to kill a convenience store clerk while trying to rob the store for its cigarettes.

America has an enormous, almost incalculable number of stupid people.  Try to raise a smart one.

by Richard Reynolds, AKA "Mr. Doomed Stuffing"

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Debating Who Owns America: It Ain't People



File:2012 Obama Romney caricature.jpg

Image:  DonkeyHotey, from Wikipedia Commons


Who won the Presidential debate?  That's the question that media consultants, analysts, pollsters, pundits, and everyone else are and will be asking everyone, and everyone will have a different opinion that will be wrong.

The right answer is that America lost.  Mitt Romney has no specifics he is willing to divulge; President Obama has a record of nearly four years as President that he has to defend ... but the point isn't that one of them could have won the debate.

I'll explain.  It's a two-party system, American politics, that doesn't allow anyone else to get in on the action. We have an electoral college/representational system that doesn't allow votes (like mine) to be counted with all the other votes throughout the nation (I'm a registered independent in a red state that thinks Jesus has personally come off the cross and approved Mitt Romney and that Obama is a Kenyan Muslim with a "fake" birth certificate and he's out to destroy America).

Romney wants deregulation.  I disagree vehemently.  Investment banks, with their fraudulent "toxic" assets, subprime mortgage lending practices, and bullshit credit default swaps were exactly what put this nation on the razor's edge of another Great Depression ... and we could all be easily standing in line at soup kitchens and waiting in line for a cot in a rescue mission if it weren't for the fact that the government realized (very nearly too late) that it was going to have to engage in "socialistic" behavior and bail the financial industry out even before Obama took office.

This is not an endorsement of Obama, at all.  President Obama ramrodded the Affordable Health Care Act down Nancy Pelosi's throat when she tried to dissuade Obama from pushing it through Congress.  Americans don't like to have government force things on them (even in emergencies), and Obama spent enormous political capital accomplishing his major initiative.  He succeeded ... the price was just too much for the payoff.

Undecided and uncertain voters know that the choice between a hawkish deregulator (Romney) and a pragmatic but hopelessly stubborn progressive is like the choice between taking that job as a minimum-wage janitor in an underfunded morgue that's plagued with endless sanitation violations and taking the other job in a fancy, well-decorated office that pays little more and where you'll be stuck under a ceiling vent that spews small asbestos dust-bunny balls down upon you while you're trying to print out another resume to get you the fuck out of this dead-end civil service nightmare.  As they say, it's a huge shit sandwich and we're all going to have to take a big wet bite and swallow.

My solution (which will, admittedly, probably fail if implemented ... but why not give it the suicidal last-ditch effort?) is to storm the castles (metaphorically) by writing, calling, and denouncing -- in editorials whenever possible in whatever media outlets you can find available -- the whole political process of the two-party system.  Make the argument that every vote should count; that the Electoral College is out-dated, anachronistic, and superfluous.  Let the people's vote (all of them) count.  Demand your congress people insist that a Constitutional Amendment be created to disallow for-profit lobbying, get corporations and unions out of the political payment business, and give the fucking vote back to us, the people, who easily know how to fuck up this nation just as well as some asshole  or some monolithic industry who's found access through money to whisper into the ears and tickle the rib-bones of the gate-keepers of the two-party system.

It's just a thought.  I don't have faith, really, in the possibility of a rational expression of popular political will ... but what the fuck ... it can't hurt to try and fail.

It only hurts to not try and fail.
Richard Reynolds, AKA Mr. Doomed Stuffing

Monday, October 1, 2012

Civilized Debate Skills


http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/2d/The_Argument.jpg/800px-The_Argument.jpg

File:The Argument.jpg
Photo of "The Argument" sculpture by Austin Wright

by Richard Reynolds (AKA Mr. Doomed Stuffing)


We do not currently have civilized debate skills.  It is arguable whether or not we ever had them; certainly, throughout history, oratorical, rhetorical argumentation has been the m├ętier of scholastics ... and the peasants and tradesmen of the world were free, to a very minor extent, to express their disagreements in the basest of manners, most often using the coarseness and hoarseness of their booming voices to prove their correctness without the necessity of factual argumentation.  What is different in modern times is that we have an almost infinite stream of coarse oratory via the Internet, and facts are forever being twisted or wholly ignored to win debates that are as illuminating as the bowl of a crack pipe after all the crack has been dissipated and nothing remains but the glowing embers of tars and contaminates.  Try finding your way through a crack house with a depleted glow from a spent glass dick and you might fall into a vat of boiling methampetamine.  Awkward drug metaphors aside, we have been left with the dregs of debating skills -- the amateur pundits who want to put their opinions forward without basing them on any more semblance of any reality than a UFO convention.

My worry is that we're teaching our children that volume of voice, intensity of slanderous insult, libelous chiding ... all these nefarious techniques of communicating ideas ... is the way to engage with people with whom one disagrees.  I'm guilty of it; most people are guilty of it; if you think you're not guilty of it, you're probably a sanctimonious asshole with the conscience of a pedophile.


Will things change?  No, unfortunately.  The cable-waves and satellites and Wi-Fi spend twenty-four hours a day inundating our minds and our communities with nonsensical lies that are backed not by science, certainly not backed by scientific consensus, not backed by rationality, and rather these lies rest on the willingness, so intense and desirous, like a bad romance novel, to please ourselves in some misguided obligatory political compulsion of masturbatory ego-stroking, to think our unsubstantiated beliefs are less appalling than those of our opponents.


We are our opponents.  We concede no point to our opponents; we do not strive for independence of thought.  We want confirmation of our own conceits ... and we all diminish the truth, the factual, the supportable, with our willingness to ignore our own fallibility.


No need to cite examples of what I'm describing.  If you don't understand what I talking about here, examples will just confuse you.  We're all in this together, for worse or for more worse.


Our only hope is to teach our children well (to cop a phrase from the hippie-rock-folk band Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young) ... teach them to understand that to disagree civilly with someone who is full of shit is just as important as changing their minds from believing in unsupportable bullshit ... because a time will come when our children will believe unsupportable bullshit ... and we want our children to be treated civilly when they are called out on their bullshit.


It just makes sense.


A wise man once said, "Opinions are like assholes ... almost everybody's got one ... and just about every one of those assholes is full of shit once in a while."  Okay, the wise man was kind of gross, but you can't make the point better than that vulgar adage.

Friday, September 14, 2012

A Moron's Endorsement of Mitt Romney




Miriam Madrigal, of San Antonio, Texas, writes:

Dear Mr. Doomed Stuffing:  I'm obviously a fictional creation of your twisted imagination, and simply a device you'll use to make one of your weird points about how unacceptable you find some subject to be.  So why are the Jews so insistent upon going to Hell?

Jesus on a fuckin' jumping bean, what is it with you anti-Semitic evangelical freaks?  Miriam, obviously you are a fictional creation based upon many of my encounters with people who populate the Earth, bubonic fleas upon a newborn puppy, and nothing more.  By the way ... how did your hysterectomy go?

Dear Mr. Doomed Stuffing:  The doctor was a Jew, but he says the operation went fine.  Am I doomed to Hell because I let a Jew doctor operate on me?

Yes, Miriam ... you're going to Hell because you allowed a Jewish surgeon to remove your uterus for the good of mankind.  But Hell is a place where non-Semitic condemned souls get certain privileges.  For instance, you're allowed to golf every Monday, when all the Jewish surgeons are forced by Satan to return all the uteri they removed during their lifetimes, and they're never allowed in the clubhouse.

Dear Mr. Doomed Stuffing:  Thank you, that is such a relief!  I was worried if I went to Hell I would have to golf with either Jews or Negroes.  Your friend always, Miriam.

Miriam also told me she wants everyone to know that she supports Mitt Romney even though he's a Mormon with magical underwear, because she believes that infidels and heretics who convert to the GOP are exempt from eternal damnation.

Take that endorsement for whatever you think it's worth.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The Muppets Take Facebook





I like to "chat" with people on some news media's facebook pages.  We exchange comments.  They say things like, "I'll pray for you so that you don't go to hell, u left-wing commie faggot," and "It sure is strange how those light-skinned negro Politicians are always up to no good."  What do you say to people like this?  Why say anything?  You can't make or force people to be intelligent.  I guess I'm chasing windmills to engage water-headed bumpkins in any conversation at all, even if the conversation is usually just a series of thrust-and-parry insults, but I don't get out much because of my intense agoraphobia, so fighting with douchebags is really just my own little sociopathic way of socializing.

I should stop, but I won't ... because maybe one day one of these water-headed Muppets will think, "Mr. Doomed Stuffing is right!  I am an uneducated, hyper-religious hillbilly moron who should quit getting all my ideas and 'facts' from Bill O'Reilly, Nancy Grace, and the 'PTL Club.'  I am an individual with a brain ... and I should be more discerning in my selection of informational outlets."  Of course, water-headed Muppets don't think whole sentences like that.  If they had similar thoughts to the ones I just gave them, they would go something like this:  "O'Reilly and Nancy and PTL liars? Horseshit!  Jesus invented 'merica!  Fuck your mother, Doomed Stuffing!  U fuck faggots!"

I know I should have more adversarial respect, but alas, I cannot.  Facebook commentators are a sorry bunch.  They're full of hate, superstitions, and they represent the lowest common denominator of American discourse.  Probably, that lowest common denominator of American discourse has rubbed off on me more than I'd like to admit.  My adversarial disrespect probably comes from my German-Irish heritage.  The Germans and the Irish are not known for their laid-back whimsy in dealing with disagreements.

Really, I should blame myself ... not the water-headed Muppets, not the Germans, not the Irish.  I choose to engage tenth-grade dropouts in conversations about politics, religion, atheism, education, racism, sexism, and bigotry.  I should have my ass kicked for trying to engage the intellect of a nation of psychological and intellectual cripples.

Oh, well ... what the fuck.  If I don't try to make the internet a less stupid place, what surly misanthropic atheistic left-winger will?  There are so few of us out there.  Or maybe most of us just have the intelligence not to engage water-headed Muppets in conversation.

[Author's note:  Although water-headed Muppets tend to call me a faggot because I'm not anti-gay, I am, indeed, not gay ... and I would very much appreciate anyone out there on the internet who wants to send me lots of hot lesbian porn ... not the kind where a chick acts like a bull fucking a heifer, but the kind where two hot chicks meet up and decide they just want to take turns going down on each other because they find themselves falling in love at first sight.  I guess I'm just a romantic deep down in my concrete heart.  Please send hot lesbo porn to eagle43aguila@hotmail.com.]

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Bad Advice, Part II




The Doomed Stuffing has received a letter from Ignatius M. Pikesticker, of Royal Bumpkin, Arkansas, asking:

Dear Mr. Doomed Stuffing:  I told my wife that she votes Democratik, and I kill her.  My question is how should I kill her -- with a gun or a knife -- if she votes Democratik?

Ignatius, you're a stupid twat.  First, even if she tells you she voted Democratic, you have no way of knowing that she voted Democratic or Republican or for a token third party candidate, because they aren't going to let you in the voting booth with her to see how she votes.  But if you're going to murder someone, obviously you should drug them, then lure them out into the woods (preferably property that isn't owned by you), and then hit them with a shovel on the head. Take the shovel with you (it probably has your hick prints on it, and probably your DNA, too ... I won't try to explain what DNA is to you, because I would have to spend the first hour just trying to teach you to pronounce deoxyribonucleic acid.)  Also, your wife sounds much smarter than you are, so you probably should worry more about protecting yourself from being murdered by her.

My next fake letter comes from Mrs. Millie Pikesticker-Stone, of Royal Bumpkin, Arkansas, asking:

To Mr. Doomed Stuffing:  Should I be worried about my husbind kilin me?

Yes, Millie ... yes, you should.

Good luck, Americans.  And remember ... politics is a deadly business.


Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Bad Advice: Eggs and Self-Abuse

I received a letter from Sharon S------- [real name withheld due to legal reasons and also due to the fact that it's total bullshit ... I never receive letters from anyone .... do letters even exist anymore?], from Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Sharon asks:

Dear Mr. Doomed Stuffing:  My preecher tells me that Ill go to Hail if I mastorbat.  Is this true?

Sharon, Sharon, Sharon.  First, get a fuckin' spelling primer before you send a letter through the mail.  When I receive letters, I demand a modicum of a pretense of literacy.  Second, what the fuck are you doing living in Tulsa, Oklahoma?  Don't you know that goblins and pedophiles live in Tulsa?  Third, poor, poor Sharon, I want you to know that your "preecher" is a chronic masturbator.  In fact, whenever you're showering after one of your church basketball games, he borrows your undergarments and masturbates furiously into them, all the while imagining you doing naked free throws.  Fourth, poor, poor, poor Sharon, I want you to immediately find a private place and stroke your uneducated hick pussy like you were putting out a clitoral fire.  This will bring you closer to Jesus than you've ever been ... certainly closer than after you've put on your undies after your "preecher" spunked in them and you wondered why you felt all sticky right after having had a shower.  Also, your "preecher" always bets on the other team because he knows you don't know how to pass and your team's defense is terrible.

Another letter I did not receive was from a young college fellow named Istanbul Malarkey, a Turkish-Irish biology major from California.  Istanbul asks:

Dear Mr. Doomed Stuffing:  Which was invented first?  The chicken or the egg?

Jesus Christ, Malarkey ... when is this bullshit question going to die?  You're a fucking biology major, numb nuts!  Have you ever heard of Charles Darwin and Evolution?  You see, primitive ancient organisms passed onto other organisms the ability of sexual reproduction, as opposed to the asexual reproduction of other primitive organisms.  Egg-laying was something that happened in evolving animals before chickens ever existed.  It wasn't like one day God created an egg and said, "Spring forth, thou chicken, and beget more eggs!"  Study evolution, you fuckin' Muppet!  And it wasn't like God said one day, "Behold, a chicken!  And I command thou chicken to be fruitful and create the first egg!"  Frogs lay eggs, alligators lay eggs, dinosaurs laid eggs, and politicians lay eggs.  The important question, you meatbag, is why people believe that the chicken-vs.-the-egg scenario was ever a plausible brain-teaser in the first place.  Chickens didn't invent eggs, and eggs didn't invent chickens.  Species evolved from other species.

Now, Istanbul Malarkey, you should drop out of college and become a politician.  Run on the "Eggs Before Chickens" platform of the Evangelical GOP.  There aren't enough morons in the GOP.  There are a lot ... just not quite enough ... and you shall be a spectacularly adequate addition.

More letters will be answered in future editions of The Doomed Stuffing whenever I can think of some more bullshit names. (Address your letters to Mr. Doomed Stuffing, c/o eagle43aguila@hotmail.com ... and try to send me lots of photos of hot lesbian porn ... I'm doing a scientific study on how often I can abuse myself to hot lesbian porn.  I believe it will change science as we know it forever.)

Monday, September 10, 2012

Amazing Scientific Facts

ScientificMethod

    There's a lot of chatter among right-wing conservatives about how global warming is not real.  Science is not based on political views, although it undoubtedly can be influenced or tainted by politics.  Science is based on observations, hypotheses, experimentation, and then theories based on experiments that are repeatable and modifiable, and when an overwhelming majority of scientists come to a conclusion based on this system, it is quite unwise, to say the least, to believe the hick sitting next to you in a Denny's restaurant who says that global warming is a mass conspiracy among scientists who want to fuck up the world with their left-wing lies.  Don't believe hicks.  Believe science.

   Science says, after many years of research, after much bullshit political debate, that global warming is, without any doubt whatsoever, real ... and it is caused primarily by mankind's behavior, specifically the burning of fossil fuels.  What the world does about this indisputable fact is up to the will of the world's people and the world's sociopathic leaders, but the argument against global warming is specious ... like the argument that ignorant chick on "The View" made that she didn't know whether or not the world was really round because she had never seen it with her own eyes (apparently, she is blind to the countless photos of the Earth seen from space satellites or the Moon).

   Ronald Reagan said that trees caused pollution.  Yeah, he really said that and probably really believed it.  Trees are organic matter and contain large quantities of carbon, and when they burn they release carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, which indeed contributes to pollution.  But trees do not cause pollution.  Burning trees (or, again, any fossil fuel) causes the release of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, thus contributing to the effects of global warming.  Ronald Reagan wasn't a scientist.  He wasn't even smart. He was also a shitty actor, but that's another story.

   Here's another scientific fact:  Evolution is real.  If that hick in Denny's tells you it's not, that the Earth was created in a few days, or that dinosaurs existed at the time of the events of the Old Testament, feel free to call him a stupid fuck and eat all of his pancakes, because he doesn't deserve them.  He would just use the energy he received from consuming the pancakes to pollute the gullible world with his bullshit notions about science, anyway.

   Remember, Science doesn't give a fuck what your politics are.  It just cares whether or not you're stupid.

   Last scientific fact for the day:  Stupid people just beget more stupid people.  If you find yourself about to fuck a stupid person (or to be fucked by a stupid person ... depending on your gender or sexual orientation), please make sure prophylaxis against sexual diseases and, most especially, against pregnancy is used.  The world has more than enough stupid people ... and morality and the environment frown on burning them as a fossil fuel.

   Good luck, and may intellectual discernment ever be within the realm of possibility in your dealings with human beings.

Friday, August 31, 2012

Hell with Them Fellas. Buzzards Gotta Eat ... Same as Worms.

It's been a long time since I blogged (I don't like that word, blogged; it sounds like something you do after you eat a large bowlful of Swedish meatballs right after eating a handful of old peyote).  The reason is that I'm incredibly lazy and I have a mild, self-diagnosed form of OCD, a disorder I've pretty much completely applied to a burgeoning interest in astrophotography.  It's a cloudy night, so I've decided to blog.  And I hope you'll forgive the smell of projectile bowel and stomach emissions.

Clint Eastwood made that awkwardly strange speech last night at the GOP convention, talking to an invisible President Obama, and it was really kind of sad, but it got me to thinking of how good some of his movies were and how awful some of his movies were.

The Outlaw Josey Wales, from 1976 or thereabouts, is a film based on a KKK member's novel, a sort of re-telling of the Jesse James story, with Jesse (Josey) as an unlikely quasi-Confederate hero.  It's complete bullshit, of course:  Jesse James was a self-promoting, publicity hungry serial murderer who liked stealing money from banks.  I hate banks, but I don't like people who rob them and murder people.  Call me conventional.  But The Outlaw Josey Wales is the first film that showed real promise for Clint Eastwood, the director.  It was quirky, funny, violent, and character-driven.  And it contains one of my favorite exchanges:  Josey Wales kills two bushwhacking bounty hunters, and when Josey's companion, a young fellow who is seriously wounded, suggests that the bushwhackers be given a decent Christian burial, Josey says, "Hell with them fellas.  Buzzards gotta eat ... same as worms."  Classic Eastwood.

Unforgiven is an ambivalent drama about the nature of violence, a very naturalistic drama with perfect performances from its entire cast, and it is arguably Eastwood's masterpiece.

Mystic River was a difficult film to watch, dealing as it did with child abduction and molestion and ultimately misplaced vengeance, which leads to an almost universal devastation.  Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, and every other actor in the film give great performances, and if the ending of the film is unsatisfying, it is because it is supposed to be unsatisfying.

And Million Dollar Baby.  Who could believe the chick from the ultra-shitty Karate Kid Part II could give a believable performance as a female boxer, but she does, and it's another great Eastwood film.

Grand Torino, not as good as any of the aforementioned, is still good.  Has all the characteristic Eastwood quirkiness.

There were other Eastwood films of course.  Horrible ones, like Dirty Harry, Magnum Force, and that piece of shit with Burt Reynolds whose title I can't even recall ... City Heat, I think it was.  Some were very good, like White Hunter, Black Heart, a re-telling of the making of The African Queen, which was directed by John Huston, who is played by Eastwood.

It was embarrassing watching the shitty performance he gave at the GOP suckfest last night.  But chalk it up to, perhaps, senility.  Dude's gettin' old.  Really old.  I've always thought that Clint should never try to be funny.  He's no good at trying to be funny.

I'll remember Eastwood spitting chaw onto the forehead of one of the bushwhacker victims in The Outlaw Josey Wales as he says the immortal line, "Hell with them fellas.  Buzzards gotta eat ... same as worms," and I'll cherish that memory.  Instead of the doddering, meandering, scatter-brained old man talking to an empty chair for the GOP.

Nothing against his politics.  It's just that he didn't seem to have any idea of what the fuck he was trying to say last night.

He needed a script ... and a good director.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Mel Gibson's Words of Wisdom

Who wants to eat?! Who the fuck wants to eat?! Go have something 

to eat! Hurrrrraaaaayyyyyy!






Mel Gibson is hysterical.  And sad.  But mostly hysterical.  Anyone who explodes this often and is over the age of thirty should maybe think about not drinking.  Maybe take up meditation.  Maybe masturbate more often.  I read the eight-page letter full of allegations by screenwriter Joe Esterhaus, and they're really weird allegations.  Keep up the crazy work, Mel.  I love it when people scream at the top of their lungs for unending minutes.

Mel's trying to prove that the decibels and the crazy factor add up to being right.  I understand, Mel.  I'm of German-Irish descent myself -- so occasionally I like to scream at the top of my lungs until everyone in the room admits I'm right out of fear of losing their lives.

Who wants to eat?! Who the fuck wants to eat?! Go have something 


to eat! Hurrrrraaaaayyyyyy!

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Scrotal Lifts: They Ain't Plastic Surgery

"The decision [Florence v. Board of Chosen Freeholders] was a defeat for Albert Florence, a finance director for a car dealership who was on his way to a family celebration when a New Jersey state trooper stopped his car and, after finding that he had an outstanding warrant, arrested him.  The warrant had been issued because of a fine that he actually had paid.  Florence was taken to a county jail, where, he said, he was ordered to strip and lift his genitals, while an officer inspected him from an arm's length away.  After six days, he was transferred to another facility, where he was subjected to a similarly invasive inspection."
   "Strip-Search Injustice," Los Angeles Times editorial


"In one facility, this means "a complete disrobing, followed by an examination of the nude inmate ... by the supervising officer, which is then followed by a supervised shower with a delousing agent."  In the other facility, the booking process "required groups of 30 to 40 arrestees to enter a large shower room, simultaneously remove all of their clothing, place it in boxes and then shower.
    If you have ever driven over the speed limit in New Jersey, it could be you in that shower."
   "Court Ruling on Strip Searches Is Unjust" by Sherry Colb, CNN Opinion, www.cnn.com


It's a strange country we live in.  We tout freedom and excoriate other countries that do not share our superior conceptualizations of freedom, yet in practice our freedoms are deemed eminently worthy of sacrifice in the name of safety.  The case of Florence v. Board of Chosen Freeholders is a prime example of this sad fact.


How can we get our freedom back?   That is, presuming we ever really had "freedom" in the first place.  We can't.  It's gone forever (if it ever existed in anything beyond the conceptualization phase).  Admittedly, I'm pessimistic about such things.


In a nation of zero tolerance, as I've pointed out in my most previous blog posting, we've become simply a nation of intolerance.  Everyone is a suspect; everyone has relinquished his or her rights to any modicum of human privacy.  The Supreme Court Justices on the Kennedy-Scalia-Roberts-Thomas-Alito side know they're totally safe from having to pull up their scrotum to show some jerkoff redneck of a corrections officer, because no jerkoff redneck cop would ever risk his career to sneak a peek at Clarence Thomas's gonads, and Clarence, whenever he isn't flossing his teeth with one of Anita Hill's pubic hairs, can have a clear conscience as he goes about his day running errands for his wife, who will hunt a bitch down and demand an apology.


This is America, ladies and gentle-scrotal-lifters.  Get used to it.


Just fucking sad.



Monday, April 2, 2012

Zero Tolerance Equals Intolerance



I have seen great intolerance shown in support of tolerance.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Read more athttp://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/intolerance.html#7AeKYFAKAWKSjkpo.99



As usual, I'm really pissed off about an issue concerning our nation's hysterical descent into its new zero intolerance policies.  Last night, on Dateline NBC (a program for which I have mostly no admiration), I watched dumbfoundedly as the story of a teenage girl in Massachusetts who had committed suicide was dissected.


The girl was in high school and had made a bunch of enemies of her fellow students, and they mercilessly tormented her with verbal abuses, and then she hanged herself with a scarf her little sister had given her.  Sad.  Not sarcastic sad, but truly fucking sad.


But then it turned from being a sad story to a story about prosecutorial vengeance.  The school administration, allegedly being fully aware of the bullying, did little or nothing to stop it.  But as outrageous as the behavior of the students and the school's administration was, somehow the tragic situation got shoved into the court system.  Because America doesn't just have to try to deter bullying in schools; it now, mystifyingly, has to try to imprison kids for not liking each other.


I, like any normal person (although I totally admit I am not normal by most definitions of the word), object to bullying.  It's stupid.  If you don't care for someone, either ignore them and go about your own business or start a vicious, mutually unprofitable conflagration.  But when stupid people verbally insult other people, it is definitely not a matter for the courts -- civil or otherwise.  Physical insults or injuries are another story.  But the bullies in the story weren't really guilty of physically assaulting the girl (one girl had thrown an empty soda can at her, allegedly, which doesn't quite fall into the category of physical assault unless one considers shooting a spitball at the back of someone's head to be attempted murder).


America likes to take things way too far.  "Zero Tolerance" is the popular name for overreacting to every fucking thing under the sun to make ourselves feel superior.  It's a terrible and destructive policy -- one that doesn't take into account the complexities involved in human interactions.


People are not perfect.  Zero Tolerance tries to tell people that they are required, by law, to be perfect.  That's why Zero Tolerance is an intolerant policy.  It is intolerant of the human condition, just as much a bully as those kids were.  Probably more so.


Hopefully the day will come when America decides every issue is not black or white.  There are shades of gray in most things, and stories in the press that have apparent certainties are chimeras, illusions.  We are neither ghosts nor angels nor devils.  Our flesh and minds are not made from geometrically perfect starting material, and our flesh and minds will never be made into perfect material.  We are not programmable machines, where society can turn an individual's screw and correct them.  Zero Tolerance is a fad that will hopefully be short-lived.  If not, we're all gonna have a hell of a lot of fucking explaining to do whenever we're caught farting sideways.

Friday, March 30, 2012

THE LOTTO: No One Has to Win

I was giving one of The Doomed Stuffing's followers some shit this morning about the lottery.  Because I'm an asshole and also because the follower, Skipper Dick (if, indeed, that is his real name), often beats my ass mercilessly at the evil, vile, treacherous game on facesuck called "Words with Friends."  But mostly I was giving him shit about the lottery because he, like many of his fellow travelers -- gamblers -- seem to fundamentally misunderstand the probability (or, rather more accurately, the improbability) of winning that big jackpot of millions of dollars.


You think to yourself, "Oh, well, what the fuck -- I'll throw a dollar away.  Someone has to win."  No, no they don't.  No one has to win.  In fact, the Lotto is designed specifically so that no one has to win.  When no one wins, the Lotto simply carries over to the next Lotto, and then each gambler's odds decrease significantly.  It's ironic that the bigger the jackpot, the worse the odds, because the bigger the jackpot, the more people are enticed to take the worse odds.


I'm not against gambling -- illegal or otherwise.  It's just that I am completely aware that the Lotto -- and all forms of gambling -- is a total scam.  You have the chance of a snowball in Hell ... maybe ... no scientific evidence exists yet as to the physical destruction of snowballs in Hell, so I'm keeping an open mind about snowballs.  But about the Lotto, not so much.


One hundred and seventy-six million to one odds might not sound like bad odds, but when one considers that one's chances of being struck by lightning are only ten thousand to one (which are still terrible odds ... except for the human lightning rods out there who like to dance in thunderstorms while holding large television antennas), one may come to some sort of understanding about the ridiculousness of putting money into the coffers of the state with virtually no possibility on the return in the investment.  It is truly a regressive form of taxation, as many gambling critics say, because poorer people are the most likely ones to make this futile investment.


I say keep your money and buy crack.  You might die of a heart attack, but at least you're not getting fucked over by your state's government.  Plus, they say crack is incredibly pleasurable -- so you'll have that going for you as you suck hard on the glass dick.


And if it's only a dollar and you have virtually no chance of winning, just mail me that fucking dollar, Lotto suckers.  You won't win anything, but at least I'm up front about it.


[Editor's note:  (Okay, there's no editor; I'm the editor -- and fuck you, this is my blog, and I'll have an entire fucking editorial staff if I want to, judgmental pricks!)  I originally wrote in this post that the Lotto Jackpot odds were at seventy-six million to one instead of the correct one hundred and seventy-six million to one.  Also, I originally wrote that the odds of getting struck by lightning were five thousand to one, but NOAA, the National Weather Service, lists the odds at ten thousand to one for humans who live to the age of eighty     --  in the interest of full editorial geek disclosure.]

Monday, March 26, 2012

On Vacation for Spring Break

I'm not really on vacation, but my niece and nephews are, so I am Uncle Butler until further notice.  I have a lot to say about many things -- Rick Santorum's mental breakdown and inexplicable outbreak of Presidential Candidate's Tourette's Disorder, the Florida shooting of a teen for carrying Skittles, and the suspension of the Nawlens' Saints' personnel for letting the NFL-(wink)approved practice of placing bounties on the heads of players of opposing teams come to light.  But it's spring break -- so, as usual, fuck off for now.

Friday, March 23, 2012

HAPPY NIALMFD!

In honor of National I Am a Lazy Motherfucker on Fridays Day, I am not writing a Friday post ... although I am a lazy motherfucker seven days a week, and I feel really bad about acting like I'm only lazy on Fridays.  Well, fuck you, you judgmental bastards!  You try coming up with a new post five days a week!  Assholes.


Thank you for your attention.  And merry NIALMFD!

Thursday, March 22, 2012

I Eat, Therefore I Am ... For Now


File:Stuffing a turkey.jpg
This isn't me in the picture.  It's from Wikipedia Commons.  I'm much fatter than this hairy-armed chef in a wife-beater.





I like to eat.  A lot.  Sometimes I'll buy three or four super-sized combo meals, eat them in one sitting, then puke them up in a bulemic session of projectile vomiting.  Because I'm an American, and I don't want all that shitty fat sitting in my system for too long.


A lot of people worry about their health.  I do, too.  The difference is that I'm not delusional enough to think I'm ever possibly going to live to be a centenarian.  I'm not even going to live long enough to see on the TV news how the Arctic ice shelf completely disappears within the next fifty years.  I wouldn't want to live to be old enough to say, "Yeah ... I'm ninety-two ... and if you had any sense, young person, you'd never get old."  I have never heard one elderly person say, "Oh, yeah, getting old is great!  I feel like my life is just now getting really started."


People hate being old.  It's miserable, because when we humans first started out, we didn't live much past our twenties (unless you believe in the Bible ... in which case, you shouldn't be reading The Doomed Stuffing ... you should be reading about Ezekial begatting Brezekial and Brezekial begatting Amos and Amos begatting Shazrab and Shazrab begatting Emos and Emos begatting Barney Fife's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather Barrabas, who got a pass from Jesus because the Jews were sick of all the begatting in the Bible and they wanted to see how they'd fare in an incredibly anti-Semitic world -- at least, that's what I understand about the Bible ... I'm better at understanding overeating).  Getting old in our present era means gradually being placed on an increasingly invasive program of terminal life-support.  I would rather enjoy my shortened time on Earth by not worrying about remembering how many steel pins I have in my pelvic bones and how many times I've had surgery to remove intestinal tumors.


They say you can live a long, healthy life ... but that's total bullshit.  A long, healthy life is relative.  When you get very old, you're in a variable stage of miserable death, and denying this fact is ridiculous.  Humans weren't meant to live to be in their eighties, much less their nineties or hundreds.


It's why God supposedly invented death.  And McDonald's.


Fuck you, McDonald's!


And Death ... anytime you're ready, my bags are packed and my belly's probably going to be full.  Unless I've just puked.


Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Today's Doomed Stuffing Cancelled

TODAY'S POST CANCELLED DUE TO UNFORESEEN ATTACK BY TWO BLOND-HAIRED BITING MUNCHKINS.  EXPLOSIVE VERBAL DIARRHEA TO CONTINUE TOMORROW.

So fuck off.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

With Liberty and Penal Institutions for All




File:Cela.jpg


"The United States has the highest documented incarceration rate in the world (743 per 100,000 population), Russia has the second highest rate (577 per 100,000), followed by Rwanda (561 per 100,000).  As of year-end 2009 the USA rate was 743 adults incarcerated in prisons and jails per 100,000 population.[4][6] At year-end 2007 the United States had less than 5% of the world's population and 23.4% of the world's prison and jail population (adult inmates)."

Source:  Wikipedia, "Incarceration in the United States"



This is quite an unfortunate piece of information:  the United States incarcerates approximately 740 people per 100,000 of our population.  Sure, China might incarcerate more, but that's China -- a despotic government that destroys any dissenters before they have the chance to bitch one word about how China oppresses its citizens. So China doesn't count.

We even have private corporations that own and operate and staff prisons.  That's pretty fucked up.  When Wall Street starts publicly trading shares in CCA, a private corporation that runs prisons in many states, America will really be in big trouble.

Oh, wait ... I just read where they do trade on the New York Stock Exchange:

CCA's common shares are traded on The New York Stock Exchange (NYSE) under the ticker symbol CXW.
Source:  http://ir.correctionscorp.com/phoenix.zhtml?c=117983&p=irol-irhome


Now, that's fantastic!  Entrepenal-urial rehabilitation!  You, too, can now invest in the prison industry!



Corrections Corporation of America is the nation's largest owner and operator of privatized correctional and detention facilities and one of the largest prison operators in the United States, behind only the federal government and three states. CCA currently owns and operates more than 60 facilities including 44 company-owned facilities, with a design capacity of more than 85,000 beds in 19 states
Source:  http://ir.correctionscorp.com/phoenix.zhtml?c=117983&p=irol-irhome 





Well, God bless the United States of Incarceration!  Thank Christ our streets are safe!  Because of CCA stockholders, an American desire for puritanical vengeance, and poor people who can't afford adequate defense counselors to defend themselves against harsh penalties when they get drunk or stoned and the states want to make money off them!  And some Americans have the audacity to bitch about their own perfect nation!  Shame on you, American critics of America!  If you don't like our country, leave it!  And then you might have a chance to not be incarcerated.

The odds will be in your favor!


Monday, March 19, 2012

Nothing Lovelier Than Words


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPK0Szuhz1I


Watch this guy scream at his cat.  It's kind of cute ... and really crazy.

 Ma'am, come through the metal detector, please.  And then bend over in your wheelchair and spread your ass for the Transportation Security Administration.  It's for your safety.


Some people never curse.  They hate profanity, and they wouldn't even say "damn" if someone dropped a brick on the little piggies in their open-toed hippie Jesus-freak sandals.  Other people don't curse because they think it makes them look less intelligent (and believe me, if you think intelligence is a "look," then you couldn't possibly be less intelligent than you are:  you're at rock-fuckin'-bottom, baby, because Albert Einstein rarely -- indeed, if ever-- looked intelligent).


But I enjoy profanity, vulgarity, obscenity, coarse language -- whatever you judgmental motherfuckers want to call it.  Profanity and vulgar slang have a long and distinguished history, since the earliest forms of writing were developed.  Cavemen hadn't invented the word fuck, so they painted a bull bison fucking a cow bison on the side of their cave and they laughed uncontrollably for several minutes before one of them had a heart attack ... and the mood got suddenly frigid.  "Maybe we shouldn't curse," one caveman said over the corpse.  "Glepgla laughed so hard from the bison-fucking picture that he bought the farm."  Thus was formed the almost pre-natal version of the War on Words.  I made this bullshit caveman story up to illustrate how ridiculous is our conception of what words are acceptable.  I've probably totally fucked up my point, but I've always thought the idea of cavemen painting porno scenes on the walls of their caves in France is too hysterical to pass up using it as an awkward illustration of the ridiculousness of our fears about writing or speaking in coarse, vulgar, common, indecent or profane language.


I'm sure most will disagree with me on this.  You'll think I have Tourette's or some other psychological disorder.  Probably I do.  But let's face it, you sanctimonious pricks, you're all just not cursing when you're in front of your mothers or your preachers.  When you're bungholing your neighborhood prostitute or letting her suck your pud for twenty bucks, you're not quoting her love sonnets.  You're telling her, "Back that big ass up, bitch," or "Madam, you are a totally exquisite fuck!"  Depending on your cultural proclivities.


I say, embrace your obscenity.  They're just words.


God bless.



Friday, March 16, 2012

Jesus Will Kick Your Ass!







Religious freaks are funny.  They are very earnest, warm people in general ... who simply will not tolerate allowing other people to burn in Hell for all eternity.  Good intentions, you know.  Their hearts are filled with so much love that they want everyone to feel that love.  And I respect and admire them for that.

But I also can't stand them.  They hold you captive if you're a non-believer.  If you don't believe in their religion (or if, like me -- in the interests of full disclosure -- you are an atheist who believes in verifiable scientific fact), they will eventually morph into a raging, frothing-at-the-mouth proselyte who wants to verbally beat the Great Satan out of you and fill you full of the glorious spirit of God.  At that point you want to punch them in the face, but you can't -- not just because it would be illegal, but because it would be like punching God in the face.  (Sometimes God needs a good punch in the face, but I won't try to elaborate on that blasphemy ... not now, at least).

Like most atheists, I don't spend a great deal of time thinking about my atheism.  I don't spend a great deal of time trying to persuade the unwilling that they need to be atheists -- nay, I spend almost no time trying to persuade people to be atheists.  Because I don't care what people believe.  They can tell me they're religious and I won't bite them, but I don't want them to give me even a twenty-minute lecture on why Jesus or God or Buddha or Mohammed or Ishtar is the right path to eternal enlightenment.

I'm a big fan of the religious film A River Runs Through It.  It is earnest, devoutly so, and there isn't a hint of proselytizing in it.  It just tells the story of two brothers, one more wayward than the other, and their stoic but firmly religious father and mother, whose love is unquestioning, both for God and their family.  While watching the film, I never felt like I was supposed to be a believer; their faith was just a huge part of the film and it was an inextricable part of their characters.  A great film, understated and believable, tersely scripted, and quite poignant in its respect for spirituality.

But I don't find that religious people are like that when they're around non-religious people.  I find they become petty, sniping, belittling, obnoxious, over-talkative, intractable in their opinions and inattentive to anyone's opinion that doesn't jibe with theirs.  Unfortunate, because I often get the feeling that I respect their spirituality more than they respect their spirituality; and they certainly don't respect my own non-spirituality at all.

I am sure there are exceptions out there.  My brothers are religious, but because they sort of have to tolerate me, they don't fuss too much with me about their spirituality.  Probably more out of fear that I will mock them if they get out of hand with it ... and I certainly would.

Other people have told me, quite unabashedly, that I am going to Hell.  This I do not respect.

And those people can go fuck themselves.  Respectfully.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Twitter-Twister on This Week with George Snuffleupagus








Why do we care what people think?  I mean, I don't really care -- but you humans sure seem to care an awful lot about what people think.  When I browse the TV "news" on Sundays (the "news" talk shows, that is, that are sandwiched between greedy little hypocritical televangelists who scream and thump their pulpits as though they were transmitting the word of God instead of begging for handouts from senile old people and the terminally gullible), I have noticed that they are now showing scrolling tickers at the bottom of the screen that lets the "news" audience mull over the thoughts of k9beatrice600 @ twitter.com, who says, "Obama is a muslum and he eats Christian babies," or the philosophical musings of bBrandonLovethrust @twitter.com, who says, "God loves Rush Limbaugh, Obama should 2."


People, including me, have a lot of crazy thoughts and ideas that at least occasionally occur to them.  Myself, I sometimes think the CIA has an agent whose job it is to harness my brainwaves with the cathode tube in my television (although -- and I am not sure I'm right about this -- the HD TV I have no longer has cathode ray tubes) and the agent lives inside my television.  Sometimes, I think, he comes out to steal my last roll of toilet paper that I thought I still had, only to discover that the government has conspired once again to make me use pages torn out of old copies of Newsweek from the 1990s.  But these are just random crazy things I'd never want to seriously share with the few people out there who are trying to find out the real news from real news sources.


The internet is a great and unprecedented resource.  We will have to come to terms with all the ramifications of this resource.  I don't think I've come to terms with it yet, because I couldn't give less of a monkey-fuck what either k9beatrice600 or bBrandonLovethrust think.


I have my own delusions with which I must deal on a daily basis.  The news should be about facts, presented by professionals with verified sources that back up those facts.  The news shouldn't come from crazy fucks who like to rant on twitter when they're not ready yet to mark up the chain-link fence outside their home with their own excrement.


I don't blame the crazy fucks for ranting on twitter.  I blame the "news."


And, of course, the CIA.




(To view an anorexic chick almost shooting her face off with a Desert Eagle:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yG-5i0Z60x4    )

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Fish Hurt! So Kill 'Em Quick, PETA!


PETA is an organization that fights for animal rights.  I'm not in favor of treating animals humanely -- because humans don't treat anything with mercy or compassion.  I'm in favor of not treating animals like foreign prisoners of war (you know, waterboarding them, making them roll around in their own excrement, forcing them to listen to Celine Dion, etc.).



I don't hate animals.  Readers of this blog (if, indeed, anyone exists who reads my blog at all) know that I use the word hate quite a bit.  I don't have a lot of hate in my heart, however.  I keep my hate in my spleen, where it belongs.  And my spleen doesn't secrete any hate whatsoever for the lower members of the animal kingdom.


PETA is a different story.  They only represent the rights of the lower members of the animal kingdom.  What pisses me off so much about PETA is that they take things way too far.  I don't believe animals should be tortured.  I don't believe calves should be kept in a crate to force it to become anemic so we can all enjoy the splendid taste of veal.  I don't believe the unhealthy practice of cramming a thousand cows into an area that wouldn't be considered habitable for two hundred cows is a good thing.  Undoubtedly, there are many practices humans (specifically, the humans who work for food processing and farming corporations) engage in that I find repulsive, unethical, vile, disreputable, dangerous -- practices that are grotesque examples of profiteering at the expense of human and lower animal health.  But PETA doesn't just want ethical treatment for animals; they want to make animals equal to humans in their worth.


Animals are not equal to humans.  Sure, there are some animals I'd gladly exchange for some humans -- but only in theory.  Some humans annoy me so much I don't think they should be given the same elevated status as cow dung, let alone the status of a cow.  I'm being facetious about this, of course (sort of), but PETA doesn't seem to me to be too ironic in its incessantly disturbed valuation of animals over people.


I saw a sign once where I live that showed a fish being hooked by an evil human with a fishing rod, and the caption beneath read, "FISH HURT."  You know, fish feel pain.  Okay, fish feel pain.  I'll accept that.  But then what's to say that flowers or wheat or those roses you cut out of your neighbor's garden to give to your wife on your anniversary so she'll give you some poontang for once in your pathetic human life don't feel pain?  Where does it end?  Do your dirty gym shorts need equal protection under the law because the billions of stinking, putrefied germs in them are equal to human life?


PETA is ridiculous.  They are over the top and under the bridge.  I'm against animal cruelty -- totally.  But if I were stuck on a desert island with a pet German shepherd that I'd raised from a pup and the can of Spam I'd scrounged from the rocky beach was getting low, "Shep" would get a few humane hugs and pats on the head ... and I'd twist that motherfucker's neck and eat him faster than I could a bag of beloved Doritos.  Because Shep's just a dog.  I'm a human.  Sorry, Shep.


I loved you so much, Shep.


And you were such a tasty bastard!


(My thanks to Skipper Dick for the above photo link.)


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkQfNil3UuI