I Can Be A Real Shit

There are times that I surprise even myself with how much of a shit I can be. Two weeks ago, I hurt a friend that I actually do give a shit about (vs. ones that I sorta give a shit about and those who owe me money). I didn't mean to. I just started clobbering him/her with my usual know-it-all bullshit. I was right about a lot of it and don't take those essential parts back that would be dishonest and show a lack of respect for this person's intelligence, but I do apologize for my tone and how flippant I was in my e-mail.

I was wrong and given the situation, I made a poor decision to be honest (from my perspective) in such a brutal and heartless manner. He/she deserves better than that especially at such a raw moment.

I also know that despite my hesitancy to use cutsey little smiley face icons and stuff I should have with regards to my 12 step program comment. It was meant as a joke and prolly didn't come off that way in hindsight.

Anyhow, this is as public as an apology as I can make by publicly admitting I am a real shit.

What the Fuck Is Wrong With People?

I've had a great storyline stuck in my head for the last couple of months. It's a thriller of sorts but rooted in today's chaotic times. One of the things central to the plot is killing certain figures to protect a nation. In getting my head around the concept of assassination or ideological killings I considered the following:

1. George Bush advocated assassinating Saddam Hussein prior to the invasion of Iraq in secret talks with Britain.
2. Cracker mutherfuckers sent death threats to the Dixie Chicks.
3. Matthew Shepherd's killers used the "gay rage" defense.
4. Ariel Sharon might have been assassinated for advancing more moderate approaches to an Israeli-Palestinian peace.
5. Afghani clerics want to give the death penalty to a man who converted to Christianity.
6. "V for Vendetta."

I think violence can be fun and entertaining but ultimately it debases a civilized society. I like fictional works and entertaining subjects more than I like the stuffy atmosphere of academia and "civilized" society. Mark my words, I will never belong to that bullshit uppercrust sticking one's pinkie in the air at high tea club. Not my bag. Seriously.

But I don't like bullies either. In fact, there's nothing that will piss me off more than a bully. Maybe that's one of the reasons I hate Dubya so much. At heart he's a fucking bully. A pussified sonofabitch who pokes fun at people for sport or utterly destroys their lives becasue he can. I'm just still unsure of his motivation. Or anyone else's on that list. Well, maybe V's but in a very academic sense because of the book and the very fact that it is the only example given which is fictional. I might feel very differently if it were a True Hollywood Story on E!.

I can't understand the emotion that leads to what all I have described above. Is it fear? Is it rage? Is it momma bear/bear cub protectionism? Or is it a combination of all three?

Any time one resorts to violence, there is an underlying threat of harm to one's self. You never get to just pop the other guy and walk away without a scratch. That shit's in the movies. When you hit someone in the face, your hand will hurt. You may bruise it, you may breaks bones. It's gonna hurt you whether he gets a shot in or not. And unless you've hit someone before, you won't expect it. Just like you don't expect guns to be quite as loud as they are up close. Up close, they sound like a cannon and you will smell the burnt gunpowder. It will burn your nose. A block away, you can justify it as a kid's cap gun or a late Chinese New Year celebration. But up close, you know what can happen or has happened with certainty. And that can be scary as shit.

I guess what I am getting at is: if you have any concept of these factors and the assault you create upon your own senses, you tend to shy away form using force unnecessarily. When you do resort to force, and you have thought it out at all, you do so as a last resort. Not because it's macho or because it would be without repercussions. You already know that to be untrue.

So why do people threaten musicians who voice their own opinions? What's so horrible about words that you might disagree with? At the end of the day, I think people who make those types of threats have a hard time believing in what they profess to believe and it's easier to wipe the speaker of trutrh off the face of the earth than revisit their own beliefs they have obviously made central enough to their lives to kill for.

I think Bush falls under that same category. He knew according to the secret memo that SH didn't have WMD's. He still wanted to invade. He wanted to kill. To crush SH. We just don't understand why completely yet. Maybe long after that snot-nosed mutherfucker is dead, we'll find something in his Presidential library.

I also think that same rationale applies to Nos. 3, 4 and 5. Better to kill the fag than question why you're getting aroused. It's also better to kill a Prime Minister (the second by the way for that nation) than to admit that most Israelis and Palestinians want to live in peace. It sure would cut the defense and religious industries profits, huh? And it's also easier to say someone is crazy or to cut off their head than accept the reality that Malik won't be fasting with you anymore until sundown. He'll be hunting Easter eggs in three weeks.

Was the fear of being different, or being perceived as different worth killing for? Was hate of a different tribe important enough to kill a leader of a nation, a husband, a father? Is it important enough for everyone to wear the same robes and celebrate the same holidays to kill a man who has been a friend and neighbor?

I can understand the biological imperative to breed as much as possible, and I can understand the biological imperative to herd with like-minded (or colored) animals, but this shit's just too fucked up even for me. But it's not for a lot of people obviously which is why I will write that book (or screenplay) soon.

I could make a fucking fortune. And if I understood why people act like this I could make even more.

Hey, maybe that's why Karl Rove still has a job.....

Balls of the Week Award #6- Split Three Ways

I say split three ways because there are three of them- Dixie Chicks, that is.

The Chicks are back with a new album dropping May 23rd, 2006. And if the 1st release is any indication: IT'S A DOOZY.

Listen here to "I'm Not Ready To Make Nice." Well-written, well-produced, and a passionate message about the Dubya debacle. I'm proud of Martie and Emily for sticking by Natalie and her First Amendment rights.

Rick Rubin produced it and true to his reputation, he pulled something from these women that translates into, well, balls. Super-trimendous, pendulous, loud, brass balls.

Hoo-fuckin'-ray. Buy it. Listen to. See them this Summer at a venue near you.

I Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

This isn't laziness. I swear. It's just this piece by georgia10 at DailyKos.com said everything I thought and felt as I watched that piece of shit in the White House play "press conference" yesterday. I couldn't have said this any better myself and I reprint it here without permission and with great admiration.

Please visit DailyKos.com and click on their advertisers and support their website so more things of substance can exist out here in bloggerland.


"Shame"

I am ashamed. I am ashamed of this President. Aren't you? After watching his press conference today, a sense of shame overtook me. I'm ashamed that he took to the podium today as if he emptied out a container of laughing gas. I'm ashamed of a President who has the temerity to laugh when asked a question about war. I'm ashamed of the whores of the fourth estate who care more about having the honor of being the butt of one of the President's jokes than about exposing the truth to the American people. I'm ashamed that millions of my fellow Americans are so scared and so desperate for leadership that they believe the President's bullshit.

I am ashamed. I'm ashamed of this President, this megalomaniac hellbent on leaving his assprint on the map of the Middle East, no matter how much destruction is wrought and no matter how much blood flows in the streets of lands that never threatened us. I'm ashamed that when I see the American flag waiving, images of flag-draped coffins flash in my mind. I'm ashamed of Freedom's MarchTM. Ashamed when I see villages reduced to rubble. Ashamed when I see the tiny little corpses. God, they're so painfully tiny--lined up in a row, little angels wrapped in colorful blankets that starkly contrast against their gray-tinged faces. Ashamed when I see wailing Iraqis slam their hands against plain, unvarnished coffins, over and over, asking "Why? Is this democracy? Why?" When I see those image of funerals, of broken families, I want to crawl into my TV, I want to go to them and grab their slumped shoulders and scream "I'm sorry, good god, I'm so sorry. I want to leave, I want us to leave, believe me. But they won't listen...No one listens anymore."

I'm ashamed that the word "massacre" is even uttered in connection with our actions in Iraq. I'm ashamed it's not just one massacre that is alleged, but two. I'm ashamed it's gotten to the point that I can't even tell this little voice inside of me to shut up, that little voice that says maybe, just maybe it could be true. That the impossible may be plausible. Before this war, I would have rejected such claims outright. But that voice of plausibility is the consequence of those black hoods. It's the consequence of those leashes, those snarling dogs. It's the consequence of those detainees chained to bedframes. Of naked pyramids. Of forced sex acts. Of beatings and blood-streaked floors.

I am ashamed. Ashamed that Justice is no longer blindfolded, but gagged. Ashamed that in America, in AMERICA, I can only protest in "free speech zones" the size of postage stamps. Ashamed that by the time I'll take my oath as an officer of the court to support the Constitution, I'll be swearing to uphold a tattered document that has managed to survive over 200 years only to be shredded by this President in less than eight.

I am ashamed. Ashamed that in America, I see bearded men panhandling in the street, holding cardboard signs that read "U.S. Vet, can't work, need food. God bless." Ashamed that somewhere, in our America, a grandmother is sitting alone at her kitchen table, crumpled bills clutched in her thin hands, agonizing over the choice before her: medicine for her pain, or food to keep on living. Ashamed that there is a child who will go to sleep tonight on a cot in an orphanage, with no one to read him a story, no one to stroke his hair and kiss him goodnight, because the American Republican Taliban thinks gay Americans can't love, can't parent, can't provide.

I am ashamed of my fellow Americans. Ashamed that they haven't flooded the streets. Ashamed they care more about Brangelina than the Bill of Rights. Ashamed that they're seemingly ok with the subtle but steady transformation from democracy to dictatorship.

Ashamed that they are so gullible.

I am ashamed of myself. For not having the courage or the strength to do anything else but sit here and blog. I write. I protest. I vote. And yet, I'm impotent. Stuck in a unrelenting cycle of hope and despair and hope and despair. What a curse it is to be 23 and want to change the world. What a curse to be so disillusioned so early in life. What a curse to want to change a world that will not change...that cannot change? That cannot change as long as we sit and wait for others to change it. That cannot change as long as our elected Democrats refuse to take a principled stand. That cannot change until they--until we--appreciate the gravity of the situation before us: we are losing America.

This is not America. I refuse to accept it. America doesn't torture. America doesn't jail people incommunicado for years. America doesn't sit idly by as an entire people are exterminated in Darfur. America doesn't stifle science. America doesn't conduct massive, secret spying on innocent citizens. America doesn't believe the individual is an annoyance, an impediment to supreme government power. This isn't the greatest democracy on earth. This isn't the nation that pioneered human rights. This isn't the America that leads the world, that leads humanity towards a greater good. No, I refuse to accept this America of shame. This is not my America.
It is an America perverted by Republican stewardship. A nation that under GOP rule has abandoned its founding ideals of freedom, liberty, and justice for all. True Americans--coast to coast, young and old--now bow their heads silently in collective shame for a nation that has lost its way.

V is for Old Fart

This weekend was supposed to be one of great partying and shenanigans with Grasshopper and Cricket, but instead since all of us had too many other irons in the fire and responsibilities, we called it off a while back. We were going to go to Austin for SxSW, maybe drive to Dallas for the NCAA's, party our asses off drinking green adult beverages and generally celebrate my naisance. well.... shit happens. Maybe we'll get to go camping this Summer....I doubt it at this point.

Instead, I spent Friday trying to get wild only to find that the majority of my friends have aged more than me and that my last arrest on St. Patty's Day made me a little gun shy (goddamn the police state). We crashed some nice friends' home uninvited, ate their corned beef and cabbage (they were right, it is like a roto-rooter for the soul), ordered Chinese and essentially kept them and their kids up. I realized I wasn't going to have a St. Patty's Day of yesteryear and called a cab leaving my other intruding friends alone to watch "Team America- Fuck Yeah!" I went home, walked my dog, grabbed some water and crashed. A fairly dull night despite my attempt to set a new shot record.

I awoke with no hangover a little before 6AM, but pissed at my badly behaving husband. Took the dog for an extra long walk and called a friend about meeting me for hashbrowns at the Waffle House. Walked to the local bar to pick up my car (I was responsible- yippee!) and made it for some yummy eggs over medium. My plan for the day was to go watch "V for Vendetta" on the giant screen downtown and I wasn't taking hubby after his night out on the town. I swore I wasn't about 15 times. Alas, I relented and his punishment instead was to be dragged thru Bass Pro.

Now, if you haven't been to Bass Pro it is the most god awful assortment of white trash regalia that has ever been collected in one place with the added bonuses of a live fish tank (oooooo!), mounted dead animals plastered on the walls, live cooking demonstrations (love them hushpuppies!), and shooting galleries for your littlest hunters in the family. My husband hated it, and I felt slightly vindicated in less than 10 minutes. Onward to the movie!

So we make our way through the constant deluge of rain, make it to the theater and grab primo seats. My best friend, true to form, is 10 minutes late for the start of the movie and sits elsewhere. Now, I have to preface the next part with the following: I love the graphic novel. I wrote a senior capstone paper on it in college. It was well cast, well directed, the domino montage is most excellent, Natalie Portman nailed the torture scenes almost frame by frame from the book, but the screenplay was disappointing. It got too much away from the book especially at the end.

It cut away from the stripper who kills Leader. It failed to get after the computer system called Fate. It focused more on Finch than Dominic. It lacked serious iambic pentameter in every scene in which V appears. It didn't mention Finch's LSD trip once and pretty much cut out the counterculture. It didn't focus enough on Evey's choice not to unmask V. And it made a love story bigger than it should have been.

In a sense, it was V, but in a more artistic sense- the sense of the graphic novel- it wasn't.

I still liked the movie and thought it had a powerful message. But it was a powerful message distilled for the dumbasses who inhabit the red states. Maybe, dumbasses need to be dumbed down to. I dunno. I never really thought of myself as a member of their flock.

Unfortunately, flocks don't see layers upon layers of subtext. They don't see irony, and symbolism and historical reference. They like blow 'em up action flicks and that's why they'll see this movie. A few will actually draw a correlation between the movie's government and our government. Some will simply paint V with the broad brush of being a terrorist. Others will see his humanity and his passion for his country and for free will.

I saw a good, almost great, movie, but I didn't see a masterpiece on par with the graphic novel.

Such was my weekend. It was good, but not great. It wasn't a masterpiece like Vegas. Like it was supposed to be. Like I planned for months it would be. It didn't appropriately welcome me further into the depths of middle age by giving my rapidly evaporating youth a fiery sendoff. I never puked, got hungover, wondered if my behavior was appropriate, acted impulsively or even passionately. It was safe and wouldn't get me expelled from the flock should I ever find myself becoming the herding type.

My name is The Raving Badger, and I am an old fart.

Balls of the Week Award No.5

I sure loves me some Dame Helen. She called out the press corps and called them a bunch of lap dogs. I only wonder why she didn't call them a bunch of pussified bitches which is exactly how I see them. It's a shame that bloggers have had to take up the mantle of the free press because of corporate fuckers who sell info-tainment for tax breaks and refuse to do their jobs in a meaningful way. They, like Congress, have abdicated their positions of responsibility within our democracy. They ought to be skinned alive and misted hourly with a 50% brine solution under heat lamps.

Fuckers.

Goddamn! What A Lucky Woman!

Here are three lucky women that I envy as of this very moment:

1. This Oslo, Norway woman turned on her kitchen tap and out came beer instead of water. 'Nuff said.

2. Marey Carey, a well-known porn star of such classics as "Lesbian Big Boob Bangeroo 2" and "Lick My Balls," and a former GOP candidate for governor of California, will meet once again with Karl Rove and Dubya this week. It's not that I like these guys, but I envy the fact she'll get to make these assholes uncomfortable in spite of the fact she hardly ever wears a strap-on.

And......

3. Federal Judge Leonie Brinkema who got an opportunity today to fuck with the federal prosecutors running the Zacarias Moussaoui trial. These bozos coached 4 FAA witnesses in direct violation of the judge's order and she found out. Right now she has the ability to take the death penalty off the table and is making them sweat. I envy her because she has a prime occasion to call attention to the rampant abuses of the judicial system that occur under the current DoJ and the multiple violations in this case alone. Hey, I think the guy is a major turd, but the purposeful undermining of our system for a mark in the win column is as good as giving Osama Bin Laden a victory. Rule of Law is more important that vengence. Civil rights and a fair judicial system are more important than giving this guy a lethal dose of drugs. He alone was not responsible for 9-11. I think more fault lies with Bush, Condi, Cheney and Rumi than with this turd burglar. The fact is: they were just more into pushing their bullshit energy policy than protecting us from harm. They're arrogant dickweeds who should be publicly shamed and shat upon by morbidly obese people with explosive diarrhea as opposed to being given ten minutes on the CBS News to taut this as a win for our society. It's not. It's a sham. It's a hollow, meaningless diversion from what's happening to our society. If you don't believe me think about "gay marriage." See what mean???

I *Heart* Sandra Day O'Connor

She whooped the asses of the Justice Sunday bunch including "Tommy Boy" DeLay, "Lobbyists First" Frist, and John "My Middle Name is Hypocrite" Cornyn for attacking the very fundaments of our democratic system and pushing us towards a dictatorship. She is (as Snoop would say) the shnizzle. I have one regret, however, SHE DID IT AFTER SHE LEFT THE BENCH.

If she would have only said it earlier, maybe we wouldn't have the Bobsey Twins of the Christian Right Wingnut Brigade (henceforth "CRWB") sitting in prime postions which are essential to our democracy and assaults on Roe that are already occuring in South Dakota, Mississippi, Oklahoma , Tennessee and other backasswards states.

I guess it's better late than never. I still love it when people speak truth to power and have some common fucking sense.