So, in the news recently:
(None of this is being made up and I’ll leave the snarky comments to you… well mostly)
First off: HAHAHAHAHA! Now, I want to be clear that I’m not laughing because of the slavery or the prejudice per se. Mostly, I just wish Strom were still alive so that there could be a big press conference where both he and Mr. Sharpton would meet on a rostrum. Al’s eyes would be filled with fear and doubt. Strom would stop short, look him up and down and doing his best Darth Vader say, “Al (wheeze) I am your third-cousin twice removed”. The best part would be that it wouldn’t really be his Darth Vader impression, but if still alive Strom Thrumond would be roughly 105 years old and I can’t imagine he could get out that whole sentance without having to catch his breath. Also, after saying that, everyone would assume that, since Darth Vader was voiced by James Earl Jones, Strom was somehow mocking Al Sharpton and black people in general. And we’d be right about it, probably.
Second: No, seriously, he’s more than three times the average weight of other children his age. Listen, I don’t want to be a prick here, but seriously the kid’s big. Like, real big. And no matter what you feel about him possibly be taken away from his family by the state (I’m mixed on the matter), can’t we all be happy for the child that he doesn’ live in America? I mean, sure, his mom let a news crew film him for a month and that sucks, no doubt. But come on, if Connor were a yank his parents would be pimping his wide, plump ass on every trashy day-time talk program that offered them free air fare, accomodations, 40 bucks and a family pass to Old Country Buffet. So, at least the kid’s got that going for him.
Third (and final, and reason why it might not be such a great time to be alive): America has Insane Clown Posse and an Aaron Carter best-of compilation, so it’s only fitting that Europe has Crazy Frog; a digitally animated, anthropomorphic motherfucker of a bad idea. Essentially, whoever’s behind Crazy Frog takes already established songs and creates absolutely insipid, sped-up dance remixes. On the latest version (which you can see the adverts for on late night television – mostly Adult Swim) there’s aparently a remix of the appalingly bad to begin with Italian techno number, “Blue”. If you don’t remember that song, well kudos to you. Please pity those of us who are stuck having to imagine how bad this Crazy Frog remix must be.
Well, maybe you’ve noticed and maybe you haven’t, but it’s February again. In a perfect world February would mean lots of snow, beer that requires no refrigerator to chill and a day that begins and ends before you even get to work.
Sadly though, for the most part, February seems to be about white people complaining that there’s no one out there to teach their history. Through the end of the month, I can look forward to reading newspaper columns pontificate on, hearing radio personalities expounding upon and over-privileged frat boys bitching about “Wah! Why isn’t there a white history month? Boo-hoo-hoo, why can’t I have white pride? Wah!”
Now, I’ve tried, believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve done everything in my power to convince my fellow white peopl, I argued against elitism so hard that I almost had my membership card revoked! No, really, here’s the transcript: (a note to my non-caucasian friends, the following is spoken in Ivory, sorry if it’s hard to follow)
Me: Hello, fellows. During this evening’s assemblage, I wish to propose a moratorium upon all declarations, utterances and scripts pertaining to the perceived inequalities and hurdles faced by persons of the WASP persuasion.
Collected Assortment of White People: Nay, nay!
So, as you can see, at least I brought it up. I mean, I want to do more, but when the bar is set to, “What’s wrong with white pride?” then really, any change is better than nothing. I guess it’s just frustrating having to explain to people that pride means something different when there’s a system in place that elevates one race over another. It’s almost frustrating enough to make me want to just give up.
Before I do however, there is one question I want to ask all the white people out there who take February as an opportunity to jump on some bizzaro-universe “why are all the chips stacked against me” bandwagon. Please name one culturally significant thing that a member of an African tribe did during the time of the Hundred Years War.
I would like to point out that if you’re dumb enough to think that nothing of significance occured on the African continent between 1337 and 1453 C.E. then you’re too dumb to be reading this blog, let alone get food to your mouth without assistance.
On the other hand, if you can’t think of anything, well, that’s probably proof that your high school history teacher (or at least the curriculum that constrained him/her) had a defnite white bias.
Now that I’ve asked my one question, I want to confess that I have a second question to ask: don’t you feel cheated that the various historical perspectives are taught as separate and distinct narratives rather than one large, cohesive story? Why is it that most students go through school learning just one interpretation of history for 11/12’s of the year and then, for just one month, are exposed to a different interpretation as if this one were the history of a totally different world? It’s not that black people are given a special, exclusive, privilege by getting one month set aside for their history, it’s that everyone is being cheated by the deep and artificial divisions of historical persepctives that result from narrow-minded white brains.
P.S. I’m sorry if this post seems a little all over the place; a little less than cohesive. I’ve sat down and tried to write this four or five times and this is the end, cumulative, result.
So, yesterday I ran across a news article that makes me glad I have a blog.
Do we all remember Rev. Ted Haggard? Yeah, for awhile there life was pretty sweet for Teddy(bear) Haggard. Respected pastor, president of the National Association of Evangelicals, happy family man and petter of puppies (I’m assuming), Haggard had it all. Everything sort of came undone however when it came to light that Ted Haggard also enjoyed snorting meth off the hard dicks of male prostitutes. Just imagine how bad it would have been had he enjoyed snorting meth off the hard dicks of (mostly)female prostitutes.
Anyway, Haggard is back in the presses because, ta-dah, he’s now officially ex-gay. Leaving behind whether or not it’s possible to permanently and totally realign one’s sexual orientation, what’s really amazing here is that apparently Ted became straight after only three weeks of spiritual purification. Now, any respectable ex-gay organization (snort-ha) will tell you upfront that the dequeerification process will take upwards of three years. So, for Haggard to do it in less than a month is nothing short of a, well, miracle.
I’m not saying Mr. Haggard isn’t straight now. No matter how likely it is that he’ really the same old speed-freak homo he was when he was preaching Revelations and speaking in tongues (who probably zipped through Betty Ford over a long weekend) I won’t for a minute suggest that his remarkable transformation isn’t sincere. I mean, God forbid (probably literally) that the man lie about his “recovery” merely in a shallow attempt to recover his former comfortable social standing.
No, no. I’m above that. Well, sort of. Not really. Okay, anyway. There’s a phenomena at work here that I’ve noticed runs rampant throughout the fundamentalist members of our great nation. Every so often a member of the illustrious inner circle gets himself into some trouble and instantly the remaining Pontiffs of Piousness rush to his defense. In doing so, they abandon any grasp they might have had upon reality. When Congressman Foley got into some hot water over what he wanted to do with pages in a tub of hot water, his buddy James Dobson rushed to his side by arguing, “I just hate to think that we’re approaching the point where a person is judged by the values he claims”. That might not be word-for-word correct, but that’s the sentiments he expressed on his radio show back in October.
And now, with Ted Haggard we have Rev. Tim Ralph claiming that “[Haggard] is completely heterosexual. This is something he discovered. It was the acting-out situations where things took place. It wasn’t a constant thing.”
If I’m reading that correctly, it means that I can claim to be a vegetarian and only “act” at being a carnivore when I eat meat (which is every meal). It also means, apparently, that in God’s eyes, I’m not a sinner. I’m just a highly accomplished performance artist who sins in the situations where temptation takes place. But God’s cool, he knows my sinning isn’t a constant thing. So, thanks for that.
So, some things have happened lately that seem more important than they probably are.
Okay, so I know everyone else has covered this to death, but Anna Nicole Smith died. I don’t know, but this feels like some sort of alternate reality cultural watershed moment. I mean, it seems like it should be important, but really it’s not at all. But no matter how frequently you remind yourself of that it’s still there, hanging on despite our best efforts.
Now, for my money (and, okay, this is overly harsh I admit), it seems that ANS should have croaked herself right after the Supreme Court hearing. Think about it, no really. The TrimSpa ads would have had to use CGI technology to render her curvascious figure like some sort of busty, trashy John Wayne (and they would have). Her first son’s death would have been fall-out from her turbulent and heady life. Also, her second child would have been a great incubator baby. Plus, test-tube kid would have been a great protege for Francis Bean Cobain.
Also, and I may only believe this because I’m drunk right now, how post-modern is the nickname ANS? I mean, first of all, who else is known only by their full intials? Second of all, it’s so self-referential as to be immediately redundant and at the same time completely encapsulates exactly what Anna meant to us. Think about it like this, if you nick name a friend “Spanky” because you once caught him tied to a bed beaing beaten by a transexual stripper, then that name represents something fundamental about your friend, his personality and who he is. To just refer to someone as their initials however suggests that they are nothing more than themselves. They are divorced from any sort of context or environment and merely represent themselves. And being separated from any external factors, they themelves represent nothing, which makes them a pefect cipher for us. All in all, I think that’s a pretty good legacy for a gold-digger.
Second observation: My wife today stopped at a Walden’s bookstore and pre-ordered her copy of the seventh (and final) Harry Potter book. Apparently, when she reserved it, the clerk asked her if she wanted Snape to end up being a good guy or a bad guy. Being an optimist (snort of laughter here), my beautiful bride decided that she wanted Snape vindicated and clothed in white. After stating her preference she was given a bumper sticker that read “Snap is a Hero”. She then asked what she would have gotten if she wished Snape to be a villian. That bumper sticker apparently reads, “Snape is a Very Bad Man”. I think the period between now and the release of Harry Potter and the Closet of Shame (or whatever) is going to be this generation’s “Who shot J.R.” moment. More literary? Yes. More consequential? Not at all.
- Maybe it’s just a problem of definition
- The Incredible Shrinking Party
- Stupid, stupid men
- It’s the little things that kill a relationship
- Children are horrible
- Today I started a scandal… and possibly a world war… the scandal thing doesn’t seem so important
- An Army of The One
- Why Doesn’t America Have More Killer Muslims?
- Things That Are Dead
- Is “Pathetisad” a Word?
- Dear Ann, Please Eat a Sandwich