Moronic Mea Culpa

Well, it seems that my "star" is screeching skyward, its points becoming molten and bending all crazy-wise as I hurdle through space, a latter day baby-Superman smugly secure in my interstellar cradle. My idiotic game playing over at Eschaton and Americablog has paid off in a bonanza of page views. Wow. I can remember a time not so long ago when each and every uptick on the old self esteem meter down there at the bottom would throw me into a realm of abstract metaphysical speculation. Who was that last person? Do they like my special and completely original ideas? Where are they from? Can I now consider them my new friend?

It seems like only yesterday that I was waiting, hour after hour, watching, hunched over and shivering, wrapped in my favorite blue blanky, rocking back and forth (and yes, touching), praying that I might witness the exact moment when that baby hit the century mark (thank you, thank you, THANK YOU Mike Sandival of White Plains, NY, I will never forget you).

Now look at me. A colossus astride the "blogosphere". I've captured your attention, entertained and intrigued you. Enlightened you. As Fat as Arbuckle, as offensive as Jolson. You love me. You HATE me. I've captured your heart, and I've Blown Your MIND. And yet I am you, and you are I. I am Everyman. And I am No1. Now that is a pair-of-docks, Is it not? [Ok, ok, so at the very least you'll grant me the fact that I've wasted a few precious moments of your life here on this earth, the ONLY one you have, thereby making me the keeper of those tiny slivers of your soul. I have them! They are mine! I keep them in a little carved ivory box, right here in my desk... Mmmm. I think I'll enjoy one right now, swish it around in my mouth, let it run through my fingers... Yes, yes... the precious.]

Anyway, my point here is this. Though my ego obviously craves the attention, I can't help but feel that I've somehow cheapened myself. Don't get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for the world's oldest profession, it's just that THIS, this is not what I had envisioned, not what I set out oh those many years ago to do. I don't want it this way. (If you are looking for a good time and live in Chicago by the way, rock on over to Emily's blog, I hear she puts out on the first date!! No I am totally serious, check her out!!! [sorry Emily, you have been with me from the start, and you know that I love you!])

Well, so anyway, I promise to stick to the hard-hitting pansy-liberal-slanted blogfotainment that you've come to expect from me, and I will try not to be such a blogwhore. Well, maybe just sometimes. Ok, on Fridays. And Saturdays, you've got to give me the weekends. Also, seriously, I spent like 3 hours scouring the web for any and all youngish (ages 18-30) pictures of Jennifer Granholm. Please, please, please, if anyone has any, send them to me, and I will post them. Especially you Jennifer. We love you, and you are a wonderful governor, incredibly smart and talented. But you are also just so goddamned hot. Everyone wants to see pics of you from college, preferably on the beach. Call me. Any and all pics of Laura Bush being railed into will of course be immediately posted as well.

AngryMan's Clever Rouse

Ah HA! Ha ha HA! It would seem that angryman isn't as slow a dullard or even as dull a sloward as all of those "standardized tests" have hitherto indicated... Suck on that one for a while MOM! You too Dr. Allard, yeah, big man; Doctor of Education. What the fuck is that? "We need 30cc's of Algebra in room 109, STAT!" Child molester.

I apologize. Now that I've settled 2 of my many, many, many old scores, I'd like to take a few moments to welcome all of the new Clearinghouse visitors who where lured here via a brilliant bit of subterfuge. Angryman, in his infinite wisdom, jumped right on the fact that atrios@blogspot was mentioned in a bit on The Daily Show last night... So I jump on atrios, blast out a few spam style comments, and bingo bango...100+ more visitors overnight. Genius. Pure evil genius. And YOU fell for it. Didn't you? Wait, wait... please don't leave... Tell a friend!

Anyway, so as not to be a complete and total fuckface, below you will find the actual transcript from an Iraqi TV audio feed of the infamous Dec. 20, 1983 meeting in Baghdad between Lucifer and his dark apostle, the antichrist. I'll leave it up to you to sort out who is who. I want to give a major HOO WAH!!! to Green Zone Gary for salvaging this gem from the rubble. Again, this is an Angry Man Clearinghouse World Exclusive, all rights reserved. I posted it first Blogosphere! Smell that Drudge? That my friend is burning rubber, cause I just left you in the dust!

Seriously... tell a friend about my blog or link to me or whatever. I will pay you any amount of money.

Sometimes things aren't always exactly as they seem... oh wait a minute. Scratch that.

S.H.- "Greetings, mien Fuhrer"

D.R.- "Yes, yes, hello again buddy, how's kicks? Yes, yes, I know, and I'm sorry... I haven't had a chance to return your calls. I've been meaning to, and, you know how it is... Oh by golly, before I forget, I've been meaning to talk to you about Uday... I've heard some things and frankly, we need to talk... Bill Bowen over at Princeton is kind of getting all worked up about some of the stuff we're hearing over there, and I'm afraid it's getting harder and harder for us to go through with what we talked about...Now I know, I know I promised you your boy would be a Tiger and we would all still be pleased as punch if..." (audio becomes indecipherable as the two turn and enter the express elevator... seconds later the doors close and they plunge straight down through the earth's crust and mantle en route to the core...)

"Next Stop... Ring #1, Lake of Fire, Lucifer's Kingdom, Home and Garden, Housewares..."

IKE meets Number 5

Hi. Yeah, not sure if this is the Gray Lady putting us on with a little preApril Fool's Onion-style joke article or not, but it seems that our military industrial complex, in its infinite wisdom, has decided it would be a grand idea to build murdering robots. I repeat, our GOVERNMENT/MILITARY ARE GOING TO BE BUILDING MURDERING ROBOTS.

Oh well, I guess our only hope now is that no superhuman cybernetic organism/naturalized citizen will succeed in capping its meteoric fascist rise to power in the halls of an unidentified Western state capital by altering The Constitution just in the nick of time thereby allowing it to avoid further "boobie grabbing" unpleasantness and mount a 100 yard last minute dash bid for the Presidency of the United...oh wait.

The Coolest Human Ever

He has obviously become an engineer. I would surmise that his chief areas of interest are: 1. Inventing that musical robot. 2. Working on a way to enable all humans to live permanently in a system of matrix-style self sustaining interconnected pods whereby face to face contact will be eliminated in favor of a technohalucinatory dream world where none of us are truly as we seem...

Happy Valentimes Day, Fools

Be sure to buy her a fuckload of shit. Prove your love. Turn your [prospective girlfriend/ girlfriend/ fiance/ wife] into a common streetwalker to satisfy us, your corporate overlords. This I command!

My Super Sweet 16

Um, yeah. Can you say Columbine high? I was just wondering if anyone else was enjoying this MTV series as much as I am. I won't bother with any acerbic analysis of the child "stars" themselves, as that would seem redundant. Assuming this show is unscripted (which I still wonder about) it seems like Ava, Jacqueline, Lauren, and Little Lord Fauntleroy himself, Hart, will live out their miserable greedhead lives in consumptive oblivion. What I do wonder about is the level of culpability that will be adjudicated attributable to the producers of this show for throwing gasoline on the bonfire of rage that is inevitably consuming the protagonists' less wealthy peers. Ah, the miracle of adolescence; it's the last time you will be allowed to turn on your social betters like a pack of savage wolves, so don't pass it up my young friends...

I'll let Bill Murray offer up this parting chestnut: "You guys have it real easy. I never had it like this where I grew up. But I send my kids here because the fact is you go to one of the best schools in the country: Rushmore. Now, for some of you it doesn't matter. You were born rich and your going to stay rich. But here's my advice to the rest of you: Take dead aim on the rich boys. Get them in the crosshairs and take them down. Just remember, they can buy anything but they can't buy backbone. Don't let them forget it. Thank you."

I'm in a 400,000 dollar car!!!!!!!

Lesbian Kiss

Here's a funny little antidote for you (I figure it will also help out in my ongoing campaign to increase google hits [cunt, shaved pussy, barely legal, hot gay action]). My friend, Stanley, he's a very unique person. He is sensitive and profane, intellectual and lowbrow, naughty and nice. Perhaps six adjectives aren't an adequate flesh-out/setup for this story, but if there is one thing we can all agree on, it's that no one in the history of the world has ever thrown away perfectly good pornography.

Anywho, so Stanley has been known to go online in search of various useless items for purchase when he is incredibly bored. Sometimes ebay, sometimes Amazon, sometimes, well, I guess I don't really want to know where he comes up with half this shit. So one day he looks around his apartment and thinks, "Wow. I have a lot of blank space on these walls; especially right here in my bedroom. I had better purchase some 'art' to beautify my living space."

What does Stanley buy? You guessed it, the above poster-sized specimen of erotica tastefully entitled Lesbian Kiss. Now at the time of purchase, somewhere deep inside his brain, I know Stanley recognized that he was fulfilling a base and prurient desire. I'm sure he had a little tug-of-war in his mind, "Self, can I REALLY justify buying this poster? I mean, it is artfully executed, is it not? When mom and dad come over to visit and they see this hanging in my bedroom, they'll recognize the aesthetic necessity, will they not? I am an ADULT, and this is ART after all. Why, it's in black and white! If this were mere teenager's pornography, the girls would be naked and awash in blaring fleshy hues of pink and red. I'd better go ahead and order this just to satisfy my intellectual curiosity." Click.

Long story short, Stanley gets his massive "nude" and plops it up on his wall across from his bed. Day becomes night, night becomes day. The weeks roll by. All the while, Stanley is lying in his bed, staring at his acquisition, "thinking" about what he has done, "reanalyzing", the rational for his purchase. Eventually, after much anguish and self loathing, this tortured case of buyer's remorse became such a burden that our friend Stanley was forced to take Lesbian Kiss down, fold it up, plunge it deep into the middle of a big bag of sweaters and old socks, and donate it to the Salvation Army. Well, it's funny to me anyway.