Nov 29, 2008

Tigers Play Smackdown With South Carolina

Tigers 31
Spurrier Worshipers 14

Condescending analysis to come!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nov 28, 2008

Re: West coast versus Southern religious tolerance.

Shall I wade into these shark infested waters for a quick dip? I shall.

The real beef the Gay Community has with the Mormon Church according to this site is that the Church was the big money behind the proponents of prop 8. Curiously, the gay community suggest boycotting the Utah ski slopes as a form of financial punishment for the state. The Gay lobby recommends that tourists "get their snow fix" in Colorado or California. California? Isn't California the state that voted against same sex marriage in prop 8? I guess the Mormon money made em do it.

Hence, the burning of the book of Mormon, and some other instances of in your face activities by homosexuals incensed by the vote's outcome and the LDS involvement. I couldn't help but notice that the burning BOM was found at a church in Colorado and not in Utah. Maybe those Utah Mormons aren't so sissified after all.

As an aside, the GC also aims to convince Robert Redford to move his lib-fest Sundance Movie Festival out of Utah. I guess red-neck, ass-backward South Carolina is out of the question. How about open minded, accepting Colorado or California? Oh, that vote...

Lost in the kerfuffle is the sticky fact that black people voted overwhelmingly against same sex marriage. Apparently black Californians draw the line at skin color when doling out the civil rights credentials. Here is a google search with several hilarious attempts by bloggers to absolve blacks of their sinful prop 8 vote. Hehehe.

Furthermore, the gay community loves to rant about narrow minded religious people, but I've never heard nor seen any gays (or liberals for that matter) pounding the protest pavement outside a Mosque. Where are the Koran burners? While Christianity in virtually all it's forms does condemn homosexuality, it does not call for the stoning of same sexers as does Islam. I suppose it is easier to protest against civilized people than it is against people who will cut off your genitals and feed them to you. And birth rates of the aforementioned head (and genital) choppers are growing dramatically world wide. Note to the GC: If demographics keep going in their present direction, in a few generations you'll be relieved to be living amongst the narrow minds of Christianity, for they will certainly defend your lives, your liberties and your pursuits of happiness even if they won't recognize your marriages.

The American and Christian tradition concerning marriage is one man and one woman: Adam and Eve and not Adam and Steve. Live as you please and love who you want, but don't expect the deeply held religious convictions of Americans concerning marriage to disappear simply because you disagree with them.

Well now, I just realized I've ranted on and not mentioned one thing concerning Southern religious tolerance. One thing, and I'm not sure this qualifies: I have attended numerous churches in several Southern states and I never heard anything remotely resembling the racial crap that the Obamatron sat through for twenty years at Trinity Church in Chicago. That's a different kind of Jesus they got up there in Mob world. Hi Ho.

Obama change or Clinton redux?

For a guy all about change and a new direction for his administration Obama has packed his new incoming cabinet and advisory staff with the old Clinton cast of characters. Not only does he have all of the Clinton underlings, he also has their queen....her highness herself...Hillary as sec. of state. I know people say "keep your friends close and your enemies closer", but this seems like being either overly cautious or overly stupid. However this would make sense if in fact the Clinton's are really the ones in charge and Obama is merely the front man.It always seemed to me that the Clinton's did not put up a fight and went away too easily after the primary defeat. Everyone was holding their breath after the primaries and the consensus was that the Clinton's had a ace in the hole. Maybe this "Obama change team" is that ace in the hole. Let's watch and see if the Obama administration's policies are any different than Queen Hillary's. I bet not!

Nov 27, 2008

West coast versus Southern religious tolerance.

It has come to my attention that the California "gay community"has seen fit to express their anger at losing the referendum for gay marriage by "acting out" in local church services and by picketing the mormon churches of the area. While they may get by with this in San Francisco and other California locals, let them try this behavior in any southern church service and they will end up at the nearest emergency room being treated for "foot in ass removal". We have a saying down here..."Give your heart and soul to God..but your ass is mine! This just goes to show how limp-wristed West coasters are there. The gays have more starch in their spines than the straights. We are more tolerant here than the media would have you believe. However, come and cause trouble in our churches, Christians black and white will leave you purple and blue.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

I'm having turkey, dressing and (in lieu of cranberry sauce) a government bail out for dinner today ("bidness" is bad). For dessert I'm having a piece of sweet potato pie...and keeping with the Obamatron's "spread the wealth" mantra, I might just eat your piece of pie too damn it...and don't think I won't slice your hand off if you try to stop me you silly God clinging, gun toting rube! Whew! I'm feeling feisty on this T-Day morning.

Well, the religion of peace (ROP) didn't get the memo from HQ that this is Thanksgiving week. The crap is hitting the fan in India. I think we should immediately reconvene Congress to determine our culpability. I'm sure that Pelosi, Reid (Harry not Larry), Frank, etc, ad nauseum are crafting a cracker jack apology to the Muslim perps as we speak (it is the right thing to do). It simply has to be America's always is...isn't it?

How Obama got elected: 9 minutes long...stunning stupidity on display. I suggest waiting until you have digested your T-Day dinner (sans the slice of pie I confiscated from you), otherwise you'll be 'chipmunk cheeks' all the way to the john after watching this.

Only two days until that Titanic clash between The Clemson University Fighting Tigers and those Ass-Hats better known as The South Carolina Gamecocks. Gamecock fans have all the personality of Muslim clerics just served pork chops at a Ramadan feast. A truly nasty and deluded bunch.

Here's to the Tiggers opening up a giant economy sized can of whip-ass on Saint Steve and his crack smoking band of Columbia felons. Allah willing of course.

Nov 26, 2008

Useless but fun knowledge.

While indulging my oldies and "bubblegum jones"perusing youtube, I happened upon a bit of odd knowledge. The lead singer for the Edison Lighthouse(Love grows where my Rosemary goes), White Plain(My baby loves lovin), First Class (beach baby give me a hand) and Brotherhood of Man (United we stand) is a fellow by the name of Tony Burrows. He is the British version of Ron Dante of the Archies fame and of the Cufflinks (Tracie) and a myriad of television jingles. These gentlemen are perhaps the most sucessful nobodies in the music world. There, that'll keep you up at night.

Drew Fisher (short fiction)

Following is a very short story that I wrote at two am...I mean-what else is there to do at this awful hour when sleep evades you? LR

Drew Fisher was dead.
Only seconds before, he was standing on his Boston balcony overlooking the Charles, when he was struck down as if by the hand of Almighty God. The object crashed into his skull, exploding it like a melon assaulted by a sledgehammer. This was certainly one for the 'Odd Happenings' section in those free travel rags which litter newsstands in every truck stop in the land.
Drew couldn't sleep that night. He had fallen reluctantly out of bed at the wee hour of 2am, made a beeline to the toilet to do his business and then, out of sheer habit, went to the kitchen and started the coffee brewing. Before he realized the time, he was already mentally working into his day, which awakened him even more. He switched on the computer to check his email – no sense putting that off, he thought. After going through the fluff and Spam he clicked on the email that he had been avoiding for two days. The sender was 'The office of Dr. Harry Durham, General Practitioner'. Drew's doctor was a no nonsense kind of guy-the type of physician who was usually good with good news and better with the bad. His round, jovial face and self-assured demeanor lent an aura of trust to the man, and you believed that whatever he told you was God's will. Just accept and all will be right with your world. Drew didn't buy into this bullshit. He suspected the lump in his throat was more than just a seasonal sore throat, and, since he was a heavy smoker, he had almost anticipated that something like this would befall his later years. Hell, he'd had bad news before and this was certainly no different from many of the life challenges that he'd faced.
He opened the email and slowly read it's contents. “Mr Fisher, We have tried repeatedly to reach you by phone. We send this email in lieu of being able to reach you at the number you've given this office.
Your test results are in and Dr. Durham would like to see you by Friday. Please contact this office immediately to set this urgent appointment”.
So there it was. Even the good doctor's receptionist was by the book. To the point. “God I need a smoke”, sighed Drew.

The pilot waited on the tarmac while the ground crew pored over the leading edge of his left wing, searching the tips for any sign of damage. After striking a large bird upon landing, the pilot wanted a close inspection and he soon decided to go over and have a look for himself. He had annihilated several birds before during takeoffs and landings but never one of this bird's size and weight. “Must have been a vulture or a chicken hawk” thought the pilot. Big one for sure. The ground crew, after rubbing the wing and shaking it to check for noise, decided that the small dent near the port engine was sound and cleared the plane for flight
Satisfied, the pilot mounted the cockpit, listened as the engines roared to life and contacted the tower for clearance for takeoff. Only the questions from the co-pilot competed with the drone of the engines. Had the pilot listened a bit closer he would have heard the small vibrating sound on the left wing.

Drew stepped out into the chilly air of his balcony. This time of year saw the temperatures drop drastically at night, clearing the skies for a fantastic view of the stars and Cambridge across the river.
A cold wind seemed to blow directly from Harvard, unusual in itself as Harvard seems to spew more hot air than cold. Drew pulled his robe up over his ears and went through the all too familiar habit of opening the new pack of Camels and knocking the first ciggy out of the pack. It felt good between his fingers and he knew that the craving would soon be quenched. He reached for his lighter and then had second thoughts about lighting up. “My God, what am I doing?” he thought. “Here I am, sitting on the news of throat cancer, and I'm lighting up”. He flicked the Bic and the small yellow-blue flame suddenly seemed to warm the space around him. He fumbled with the cigarette for a moment and then slowly moved the flame close to the tip. As he took his first draw, the pain in his throat almost caused him to wretch. He would try another draw. The same pain, followed by a hacking cough. He tossed the cigarette over the balcony and silently took stock.

“Boston Tower to Venture 1761, veer two degrees south to clear for incoming 747.”
“Roger Boston Tower, veering two degrees south. Have a great night guys”
“Roger that Venture 1761. Thanks and have a nice flight”.
The force of the tailwind seemed to give the plane an extra 20 knots speed. This would more than make up for the slight delay caused by the shift in direction. The turbulence from the wind also increased the vibration on the wing. The wing was sturdy but something was causing a noise immediately above the left engine bracket. The pilot couldn't hear the sound over the drone of the engines.

Drew looked up at the stars and searched his soul for an answer, any answer. He then bowed his head. “God, I know that you know what's best for me. Please help me through this one. I know that I haven't been the best child of yours, but please, just help me to give up these damned cigarettes. And if it's your will, give me a sign that you're here for me”. As he lifted his head back towards the heavens he saw a bright,beautiful light. It appeared to be a bright star shining from the north, only it seemed to brighten more as Drew stared at it. Was this the sign from God? Was this his 'star from heaven'? Drew felt a peace like he'd never felt before.

The plane went through a wall of air that seemed to shake it to it's very core. Although the evening was crystal clear, a front was moving it's way from the north, mixing with a system coming out of the west and shaking everything in it's path. The violent disturbance caused the craft to fall almost 20 feet before overcoming the wind and pitching back up to 7000 feet. The pilot heard the faint sound of a single knock on the left side of the plane, as if the plane had hit another bird. The vibration noise subsided.

Drew stared at the oncoming light like a disciple seeing his maker approach. He stood in awe, wondering if he was about to be raptured. Then he saw the green flashing light and realized that this was only a plane. His spirits sunk with the realization that God had failed him yet again. The uncertain test results, the inability to quit smoking, his relationship woes, all came flooding back into his thoughts.
As the plane passed over his head he casually said “Thanks God”.
The 4 inch bolt from the engine mount of the plane was traveling at close to 200mph when it exploded Drew's skull.
Drew Fisher was indeed dead.

Nov 23, 2008

The "mistress", elfing and Rivalry Week!

So t. durham thinks dame Gorelick is one of Lucifer's bed buddies. Well so does Doug Ross. From "the wall" to Fannie Mae, Ross recounts the mistress of mayem's questionable past . He also has Obamanopoly. Pass go and get $200 of the bail out money.

I'm happy to see that homeless Charlotte guy Reid wrote about here recently has been effectively "elfed"...along with Gomez the family cat . Purrrfect.

It's rivalry week here in South Carolina once again. It's the Clemson Tigers vs. the University of Spurrier Worshippers. Of course, South Carolina fans point to their treacherous SEC schedule as a "leg up" against the Tigers who are limping home behind interim coach, Dabo Swinney. Not to mention the fact that CU plays in the totally limp wristed ACC. Hope springs eternal for SC fans this year: from the warehouse district surrounding Billy Brice to the favorite bars of the SC players down in 5 Points, there's a feeling in the air that this is the year that they stomp a mud hole through the "taters". Of course, if they lose it's because of that treacherous SEC schedule and the battering the team gets by playing it. A form of reasoning better known as "Cock Logic" Stay tuned.

Nov 22, 2008

Nov 21, 2008

Jamie Gorelic- Mistress of mayhem

It has come to my attention that the president-elect Barrak the magnificent has intertained the notion of naming Jamie Gorelic as attorney general. Please bear with me while I put on my tin-foil hat. As you may recall, vice president-elect jumpin Joe Biden warned us of a coming"generated event". Ms.Gorelic has a nasty knack of being where the crap hits the fan. She installed the famous "wall" between the intelligence agencies that supposedly prevented us from knowing of the coming 911 "event". Then she was appointed to the 911 commission that prevented anyone from questioning her about her "wall". As everyone knows 911 and it's aftermath continues to this day. Next,I suppose as a reward for her insightfull work pre and post 911, she was appointed as vice-chair for Fannie-Mae. This house of cards fell shortly thereafter. However she made a tidy 20 plus million for her efforts. Follow her closely. Wherever she appears this will be ground zero for the "GENERATED EVENT". Oh she is also representing Duke university in the lacross players lawsuit against the university. The "Anti-christ" may not be a man.

Nov 20, 2008

Re: Worst songs and guilty pleasures

T. Durham, "these revelations" could possibly prevent you from challenging the Obamatron in 12. On the other hand, your walk in closet jam packed with 50 + years of skeletons of all types...certainly would be tough to overcome.

And I must take issue with The Grassroots being called a bubble gum group. According to this site, the roots don't qualify. While I must admit Sooner or Later is quite wussified.

But it don't hold a candle to Rock me Gently. Andy Kim should have been jailed for that sacrilege. As an aside, I think I accused Reid here of knowing Andy Kim's astrological sign.

And yes, Fly Robin Fly will send you screaming to the, but in those glassy eyed days of powdered noses and window pane judgement, FRF was high art.

Fly Robin Fly
Up Up to the Sky.

Sheer poetry.

Worst songs and guilty pleasures

In response to L.Durham's worst song, I would like to add "Fly Robin Fly" by the Silver Convention. Whenever I hear this song I want to scoup out my brain with a power sander. Add to that any number of songs from the disco"hell" years. Guilty pleasures....Rock me gently by Andy Kim, Carpenters, Monkees, Paul Revere and the raiders and the GrassRoots. I am tormented by the "BUBBLE GUM GODS."It is true that I have marginal taste. Also I love the Rasberries. These revelations should bar me from public office!

Nov 17, 2008

The Worst Songs in the History of Mankind Part 2

It seems I've been taken to task for having the audacity to include Escape-The Pina Colada Song as one of Humankind's worst efforts (notice the gender non specificity). An E-mailer informed me that she "Loved the Pina Colada Song" and went as far as to question my IQ and heredity by calling me a "stupid bastard". As I stated at the beginning of my broadside, to each his (or her) own poison. And despite the rather unfriendly tone of "Rita" the e-mailer, I remained unmoved. E-TPCS still stinks.

Which moves us forward in search of other stinkers perpetrated on the popular music listening public. Brooke over at Paleo Con Command Center submitted the perfectly terrible MacArthur Park, which I am certain is playing over the speakers of Hell as we speak (both versions-Richard Harris and Donna Summer in a loop); however, Dave Barry eviscerated this mindless Jimmy Webb tune years ago. So, I won't revive it just to slaughter it again...though it is tempting.

Instead, we search for new whipping boys from the easy pickin's of pop music . Today I sharpen the knife for one of my all time favorite awful songs: Come on Eileen by Dexy's Midnight Runners. This song is soooo bad that it is rumored to be one of the songs that the CIA blares over the speakers in which to torture their captives. If the captives are Muslim, it couldn't be much worse than the call for prayer...but I digress.

Come on Eileen assaulted it's first eardrums back in 1982 during the salad days of MTV . It can safely be asserted that the half starved images of Dexy's Midnight Runners did little to help over come the sheer dreadfulness of Come On Eileen. As for the stick people that made up DMR; according to that fount of flawless information, Wikepedia, the Dexy in Dexy's Midnight Runners refers to Dexedrine, a favorite amphetamine of the group's founding member Kevin Rowland. If you had the misfortune to actually see the video version of COE, you couldn't help but notice that the band members were a scrawny bunch. The crank'll do that to ya bloke!

And as warbled as the vocals are, the lyrics are even more esoteric. The British bards have nothing to be concerned about:

Come on Eileen, I swear (well he means)
At this moment you mean everything,
With you in that dress my thoughts I confess verge on dirty
Ah come on Eileen.

Make no mistake, COE is finger nails on the black board annoying. And while I have much affection for the Mother land, as does in house post-meister Larry Reid, Dexy and the lads are commodities that would have been better left in the Kingdom. I'm all for trans-Atlantic relationships, free trade and the like, but I'd have just as soon skipped the trauma of hearing this mush mouthed import. I've heard that if you play it backwards you hear a cockney voice rasping "this song sux".

Things I'd rather do other than hear Come on Eileen ever again: wake up next to Helen Thomas and face the harsh memories of what I may have done.

For the brave at heart here it is:

Nov 13, 2008

Paulson For President!

Get up and grab your ankles America! It's time for Bail Out -O-Rama!

The show where just about everybody can get a bail out from Uncle Sam regardless of liability or culpability.

And here is your host, the man with the money, Paaatt Paauullllson!

Oh yeah, that's right, it's Henry Paulson. But we might be better off if it were Pat Paulson. At least when Pat was running for prez back in the Smothers Brothers days we all knew that it was satire. But with the great economic implosion of 08 we seem to have lost our sense of irony. The spread the wealth mentality adopted through various government initiatives, meddling and Wall Street stupidity created the present crisis. Now to the rescue comes none other than, you guessed it, the guvmint. And the master plan is...what? More spreading of the proverbial wealth? More nationalization?

Now Henry the wise and the nimble is pirouetting to allow the treeelllion dollar bail out to include credit card companies (with some subterfuge). What's next, a bail out for the Nevada brothels? Frankly, I'd rather see the hookers get the money before American Express.

How about taking that cool trillion and rebuilding the infrastructure of the USA: dams, roads, bridges and such. Put it out to bid for American private industry, thus creating jobs for AMERICAN CITIZENS, who in turn pay taxes and purchase goods and services, which creates demand for more labor, businesses, etc, etc. The answer to "the crisis" lies in unleashing American ingenuity and the American worker, and not in crisis mongering and punishing achievement. The guvmint's idea of spreading the wealth is based on taking from those who achieve and not creating more achievers. Not much hope in that change.

So with the help of Chicken Little (Crisis!) we've hired the fox (Paulson) to guard the hen house (our tax money). When Pat Paulson did his shtick, he did it with a wink and a smile. As absurd as the Bail Out-O-Rama is, I keep expecting Henry Pauslon to break out into a rendition of Money when announcing the latest contestant who has "come on down" for a bail out. But so far we've seen no wink and no smile, just more government.

Nov 12, 2008

A few of my favorites and a trivial pursiut...

Debbie Schlussel muses over why the P-EOTUS hasn't hustled on down to Five-O and taken care of Grandmother Dunham's funeral. Hard hitting commentary alert.

From a month ago: Junk Science takes on T Boone Pickens, wind generated electricity and underlying motives.

Fred Reed is an equal opportunity offender. Wade on in if you dare to Fred on Everything.

Jonah Goldberg questions GWB's conservative credentials. Was George Bush a Conservative President?

Great time waster: Assembler! I stopped at level 9. And it was hard to stop.

Update: I made it all the way to the 19th and last level. Level 16 or 17 took a while for me figure out. I am easily entertained.

Nov 11, 2008

Crickets Chirping on California Hate Crime

Four white men have been accused of brutally murdering an interracial couple in San Diego and nary a peep from the MSM. Oops, did I say four white men. I meant to say four black men were accused of murdering an interracial couple. And that is exactly what happened. The victims, a white man and a black woman, were newlyweds.

Where is the outrage from The Southern Poverty Law Center?... Crickets.

How about the condemnation of this crime by the ACLU?... Crickets.

NBC? CBS? ABC? CNN? Fox? This story just don't fit the PC template does it boys?

If only it could have been four white perpetrators and the couple had been a black man and a white woman, then we'd have a story...damn it!

Of course, some will say, "what does race have to do with this?" Well, it has everything to do with it. A lot a tolerance preaching goes on in America; is this crime tolerable? As the old song says, Silence is Golden. If this vicious crime had been committed in the way described above, the outrage would have been righteous and incessant. But it didn't happen that way; and the fact that this story has been relegated to obscurity in the blogs signifies its lack of importance to those who generally are exorcised by hate crimes.

Nov 9, 2008

The Worst Songs in the History of Mankind. Part 1

Today we foray into the underbrush of popular music in search of the worst songs in the history of mankind. A target rich environment indeed. Of course my method is subjective prattle. It very well could be that songs I find dreadful, some dear reader may find toe tapping terrific. For instance, I find the gravelly twang of Bonnie Tyler nearly suicide inducing. But, out there somewhere, some deluded soul with ears of tin may have fond memories of Dame Bonnie warbling an ear splitting rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart. To each his own poison I always say. So let's dive in shall we:

Sugar Sugar by the Archies: The song came from the insipid Saturday morning cartoon show which was spun off of the popular Archie comic book series . How lame is that? At least The Monkeys, as prefab as they were, were real people (even though only one or two of them could actually play an instrument). The people responsible for S.S are probably in witness protection or somewhere. Or at least they should be.

As a boy I eagerly awaited each new edition of Archie; it was pretty tame stuff. The comic book evolved around the shenanigans of Riverdale teenagers Jughead, Reggie, Veronica, Betty and of course, Archie. But the release of Sugar, Sugar rendered reading the comic book totally uncool. A cartoon group made up of the Archie characters gyrating stiffly to this pop abomination was the death nail for me. This turkey actually hit number 1 in 1969, further illustrating the drug addled state of the peace and love generation. By the time S.S was released I had already heard Sgt. Peppers, and Tommy had just been released. Sugar, Sugar; yeah, right.

Ah Sugar
Ah Honey Honey
You are my candy girl
and you got me wanting you

The rock bottom of bubblegum music I would say. I haven't actually heard S.S. in years, and I'm hoping my luck continues to hold out. I even resisted listening to it when I made this link. But for those with really crappy taste or total tone deafness, Sugar, Sugar may just be your cup of tea.

Things I'd rather do than hear Sugar, Sugar ever again: Eat six bars of Ex-lax just after having consumed a table spoon of ground glass.

Escape (The Pina Colada Song) by Rupert Holmes.

Wrist slitting material extraordinaire. The song itself is about a fellow's pitiful attempt to' get some on the side by scouring the lonely hearts section of his local newspaper. Even going so far as to pen a sappy response while his wife/"old lady" lay sleeping in bed next to him. The following words are what shook this guy from his tedium:

"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the lady you've looked for, write to me, and escape."

Now, we all know how this kind of dalliance usually ends: either with a raging case of chlamydia, a messy divorce or, at the very least, your kid's pet rabbit boiling on the stove while your ex is burning your clothes in the back yard. But of course, the ironic twist revealed in the stanzas below sent Escape soaring up the charts. A plausible scenario? Not in this world. But I have known guys to marry and divorce the same woman more than once. Which proves that anything is possible with love/sex/lust/insanity; even something as vacuous as this:

So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place.
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face.
It was my own lovely lady, and she said, "Oh, it's you."
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, "I never knew".

"That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
And the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."

Truly one of the all time wretch worthy songs ever perpetrated on the listening public. The writer of this one hit wonder is Rupert Holmes. His website credits him with a varied career in recording, film and stage. If only Rupert could have stuck with Broadway. E-TPCS was number 1 in 1979. Further evidence of the drug addled children of the peace and love generation.

Note: Holmes also killed us with this effort. As if E-TPCS wasn't torturous enough.

Things I'd rather do than hear Escape (The Pina Colada Song) ever again: Shave my entire body with a dull razor and immediately take a bath in a tub filled with rubbing alcohol.

So I'll conclude my broadside by encouraging readers and resident bloggers to send in their cringe worthy suggestions for worst songs ever recorded in the history of mankind. Send your nominations to and please include "worst songs" in the subject line. Or simply leave a comment at the end of this post. If you are (were) a big fan of The Archies or Rupert Holmes my deepest apologies...but The Pina Colada Song still blows. To be continued. Hi Ho.

Nov 8, 2008

And while we're on the subject of tunes...
We all know how certain songs inspire nostalgic sentiment and little heart pangs. I was reminded of this again last week while driving into work on my usual morning commute through the god-awful Columbia traffic. I had the window cracked enough to feel the biting cool air against my cheek, helping the coffee to slap my dead ass awake. Traffic slowed as I changed the station on the FM dial a couple of times and happened to land on a classic country radio station. I had tuned in just in time to hear the opening notes of Marty Robbin's "El Paso".
I'd always liked the song since it actually told an interesting story of the dangers of being in love.
For the unfamiliar, allow me to paint the picture.
The storyteller goes into a cantina in El Paso, sees a Mexican hooker and falls madly in love. Another dude is drinking with the hooker, which sets the jealous cowboy off. A testosterone moment ensues and guns are drawn. The storyteller outguns the "handsome young stranger" who soon lies dead on the floor, setting off a moment of guilt followed by the natural urge to run. Storyteller hides out in the badlands for a few days until his love for the hooker overwhelms his love for common sense.
It's at this point that he decides to hightail back into town to see the cheap Mexican hooker. He jumps on his horse and heads for the cantina when a posse sees him and starts busting caps in his ass. He makes it to the back door of the cantina where he dies in the hooker's arms. At this point she proceeds to rob him and buy a round of drinks for all the other johns in the joint (this part was not included in the song...just my supposition of the facts).
See the sad video here
It seems like only yesterday I was hearing this musical tale for the first time. It's hard to watch the video and not well up.
Yes, I know. Stories (or songs) of unrequited love followed by dying in a hooker's arms are as common as flies, but El Paso is different. It reminded me of a similar tale that happened some years later in the West Greenville village of Brandon at a cantina called Tucker's. Instead of a Mexican hooker, the part was played by a snuff queen and if I recall correctly the fight was over a bottle of toddy oil. It draws the same type of tears to one's eyes as the Marty Robbins ballad. Wow, I'm too choked up to continue...sorry.

Nov 5, 2008

Now back to our regularly scheduled program:

Stay classy America: at least until the Prez elect selects Farrakhan as Secretary of State.

Just kidding!...I hope.

Seriously, Obama is the POTUS. The office deserves respect. I for one will choke back my Obama derangement syndrome (OBS) until there is ample reason to unleash it. I fervently hope that he rules wisely; that he resists the urge to lurch the country further leftward into nanny statism. Europe provides the model for that experiment; and it is a failure on various fronts. Yes, our Euroweenie cousins have cradle to the grave assurance from the EU, but at what costs? Double digit inflation and unemployment? Slavish devotion to a rabid multiculturalism that has ushered in a tacit concession to Islamofascism? Hmmm.

And remember: The US taxpayer has effectively absorbed the costs of protecting Europe from Russian aggression for 60+ years, thus allowing the Continentals the financial luxury of their experiments. We Colonists have no such luxury. The brunt of a liberal wish list will be born by Americans alone should Mr. Obama fulfill his campaign promises.

Stay tuned.

Nov 3, 2008

For what its worth...and it ain't worth much:

I'll get drunk and vote with Ann

I've waited until just hours before the election to do this. I've commented on politics here at MTH...some, but for the most part I've let it alone. For twenty years now I've voted for conservative politicians, or at least for politicians I thought were conservative. My view is that smaller government is better government, that individual liberty is best protected by less bureaucracy, that a man's dollars belong to him first and foremost, and that punishing achievement is the pathway to a fat, dumb and useless society. I still think that way.

On the dawn of this election in which a black man has advanced to the brink of the presidency, I suppose that I should be glad that our culture has shaken off it's racial antagonism and considered a black man as leadership material. On one level I am glad, but on a philosophical level I am disappointed. Barack Obama is not the black man that I would have chosen to break the presidential color barrier. He is the wrong choice on many levels and race is not one of them. His various and sundry associations alone disqualify him. Imagine a white politician with these kind of friends. Well, you can't, because he would have never been allowed to make it this far. I find it very difficult to look the other way at Obama when he spent twenty years nodding in agreement with a race baiting black liberation theologist that preaches hate for white people in general and America in particular. Lest we forget, Obama named one of his two autobiographies after a sermon by the above mentioned "reverend". I am further troubled by Obama's business dealings with an America hating home grown terrorist. Likewise, I fail to understand Obama's personal allegiance to an Islamic terrorist sympathizer who supports the extinction of Israel. Then there is Obama's community organizing which I view as nothing more than a narcissistic venture into gouging the fatted government calf for his own benefit. I find Obama's tax the rich plan a bitter, contrived attempt to further divide Americans through class envy. I have yet to hear an intelligent explanation of how Obama's plan to pile on further taxes and regulations will help the middle class. These so called taxes on the rich will most certainly be passed on to consumers through higher prices; higher prices will lead to less consumption; and less consumption will lead to higher unemployment. It happens that way every time it is tried. Our current banking calamity is not the sole result Bush policies and evil white rich people, but is instead the blind implementation of the very wealth redistribution policies that Mr. Obama is promising he'll employ. Sub prime lending began in earnest in the mid 1990's, and despite the many alarms raised by conservatives (and even some liberals) of impending disaster, was allowed to continue unabated until the crisis mongering Congress contrived the trillion dollar bank bailout. Sub prime lending is the ultimate "spread the wealth" vehicle. A revolting habit Obama adheres to without apology.

As for America's national security, Mr. Obama does not inspire confidence. While I don't believe that America is in eminent threat of destruction, I do believe that western civilization is in the fight of it's life with radical Islam. This freedom crushing cult currently metastasizing in Europe has it's eyes on the last bastion of individual freedom that still exists: The United States. Based on his radical associations and his own words both written and spoken, I fail to see how Barack Obama will protect our freedoms. Like most liberals, he is either unable or unwilling to see the threat on the horizon. Radical Islam does not respect weakness. It responds only to direct confrontation when it is called for. I do not see in Mr Obama a man who has the will, the desire or the courage to draw the line when it needs to be drawn: not on terrorism, not on unchecked immigration, not on the Marxists assault on individualism. He will merely carry on the putrid installation of "the new world order" of the last twenty years; the great tumble, at any cost, towards multiculturalism and political correctness. What is the bebefit of this useless drivel to anyone? ...Anyone?...Anyone?

Unfortunately, John McCain is no small government conservative. His views on illegal immigration are, from an economic and national security standpoint, dangerous. Likewise, his thirty year penchant for "reaching across the isle" (bleeech!) has greatly contributed to the undermining of small, responsible government and has lead to the development within America of an entitlement mentality that threatens our freedoms by encouraging a growing national stupidity. Ironically, it is this very "daddy government" mentality that bolsters his opponent's chance of becoming president. From a conservative point of view, McCain is not an attractive candidate.

So, the choice here is between terrible (McCain) and mind numbingly ignorant (Obama). I'll take Ann Coulter's advice and get drunk and vote for McCain. A nauseating case of better the devil you know.

There, I've said my piece and I'll leave it alone for now. But you can bet your arse that I'll be vocal and then some when this Commie nonsense implodes and all the Obamatrons out there are moaning and groaning about the length of their soup line. Oh yes I will.

Nov 1, 2008're 10 people short today

My friend and former co-worker Dusty J. and I get to downtown Charlotte this hot Saturday morning, fully expecting to be shooting a video for a model search. We went inside a building across from Discovery Place where we met Kevin, our director. After building and lighting a conference room setup, we taped 6 models doing a spiel about things to beware of in the modeling business. This scene went okay considering that only about half the models knew their lines. But, then again, they were models.
Kevin, the guy who hired us, gave us 90 minutes to finish this scene. “We got two locations…uh…two scenes…and we need to be there to meet the other models”. He instructed us to set up the next scene three blocks down the street, at the corner of Tryon and Trade. We complete the scene in an hour and break down the gear for the trip down the street. So what happens when we arrive? Well, first it’s probably the busiest intersection in Charlotte. There are 10 cops on the corners waiting on us to arrive. There are big Cadillacs and BMWs and two or three other fine assed automobiles parked on the street. The producer (Kevin) then proceeds to inform us that we are also shooting a music video for a new rap artist, Jada. He sets the scene: Artist singing (rapping) in the streets, cops stopping traffic, models and dancers all around, gold teeth flashing, you get the picture. Unfortunately for Dusty and I, we were left out of that discussion. Like a football offense breaking a huddle, Kevin and his homeys started barking orders to the dancers and models who had filed out from an office on the corner. We knew some serious shit was about to go down!
We finally tore Kevin away from his homeys long enough to make him hear us ask…”what the fuck are we shooting?” “Oh yeah” he replies. “Well, we gonna be featuring a new rap artist, biggest thing outta Charlotte, and he’s, you know, part of this modeling …uhhh…promo”. Dusty and I stared at one another for a minute, took a deep breath and split our cameras diagonally across the scene. He wandered in and out of the dancers handheld, I stuck to the sidelines and shot footage of cops, models dancing (yum!), and onlookers who had stopped along the busy sidewalks to see just what the fuck was going on.
The police block off this busy intersection, the Cadillac and BMW and the other cars pull into the intersection from four different directions, and Jada jumps out of a car and begins his song while about twenty gorgeous, half dressed models dance and shake their things around him. We do this scene four times. After the first take, the crowd of onlookers has swelled to about 200.
Each new take would find us shooting various angles/objects of the same things, mostly up-close ass shots (the asses being the most animated things on the set), and dancing and Jada rapping (Dusty stuck with the rapper).

I saw the crowded bus sitting on the corner, held through four lights by the traffic police. I still couldn’t believe that we were in the middle of Charlotte, blocking all this traffic with cops everywhere. I knew that the passengers on said bus would be wondering the same thing as the onlookers now amassed on the sidewalk. Then, I saw him. He stumbled out of the rear door of the bus. Disheveled and disoriented, he weaves his way through the crowd. It’s the obligatory drunk! He had the look on his face of one who has decided that he is an undiscovered star. Slowly, yet not stealthly, he makes his way toward the shiny shakey booty. On the last take he jumps in the shot and starts dancing with the models. We shoot around him. Satisfied with the first scene, we move to a large fountain in a plaza on the corner. There, the models get wet in the fountain dancing with Jada who emerges from behind a waterfall in the fountain. YESSSSSSS! Four takes here. The drunk enters the scene on the second take and jumps in the fountain with the models. Here he begins to wash himself. While this was a much-needed activity, his timing couldn’t have been worse. The cops drag him from the fountain (after he removes his pants) and we continue the shoot. This was by far my favorite location! Then, we moved across town, to a basketball court in a ghetto park for scene three. More models, more dancing, more bouncing tits than you could shake a stick at (and I did).
Scene four found us in a park where we did a “sun setting “ shot. Now, mind you, Dusty and I started shooting this thing at 10 am, it’s now 6pm, no food no drink for all these hours. Lugging all this gear around. Needless to say we were pissed by now! So this video, called “Bounce”, will air on MTV in a new artist slot. The strange thing is that we had absolutely no idea that we were shooting a freakin’ music video before we arrived. The stranger thing is that we pulled it off. And the absolute strangest part is…we harmed nor killed any director in the making of this video.

So this is how I spent one Saturday a few years ago.