Saturday, December 31, 2005

Jam ya up and take your arms off, I hit you twice with tha sawed-off

On the Sixth day of Kiss-Moose, my internet girlfriend gave to me:

Six A-Capella Wookies

There are no other words needed to describe this than the following four, and if you are not immediately compelled to click upon their linky herald, then you have no soul. No fucking soul AT ALL!

Behind the above link, you will find the following: Chewbacca singing "Silent Night."

Five Gooo-hoooold Ringtones
Four Minutes of Jibba-Jabba
Three Absolutely Unexpected Violent Incidents
Two Turtle Dentists
And A Hastily-concieved blogging project!

NB: You'll need Quicktime, so if you don't roll with my homey Gates on the XP tip, then it sucks to be you, G.

Friday, December 30, 2005

"Who's Johnny?" she said and tried to look the other way

On the fifth day of Ex-Mess, (more or less) the interweb gave to me:

Fiiiiive Gooo-hooold Riiiiingtones!

Police said they received a call at 4:52 a.m. Friday from a Blue Springs man who said his girlfriend was having trouble breathing. When they arrived at the house they found the 24-year-old woman had a cell phone lodged in her throat.

“He wanted the phone and she wouldn’t give it to him, so she attempted to swallow it,” Detective Sgt. Steve Decker of the Blue Springs Police Department. “She just put the entire phone in her mouth so he couldn’t get it.”

So far, I've been a bit short on commentary... but today I'm going great guns. Mostly, because this is so fucking funny to me. I mean, seriously, how fucked up is this couple that these two rednecks can't even share the phone. At 5 in the damn morning, I might add... who the fuck are they so itching to call that damn early, anyway?

And now, because you should expect childishness like this from me, (and because I'm an asshole) for the punchlines:

"I bet she still wouldn't give him head."
"Is his cooking that bad, she's eating phones?"
"Oh yeah, well I'm gonna eat the crockpot!"
"Hey, you think this call counts as roaming minutes?"
"I'm the crazy one? Well, you're deep-throating the appliances!"
"I'll be damned if I'm letting you call Ghostbusters!"

Four Minutes of Jibba-Jabba

Three Absolutely Unexpected Violent Incidents
Two Turtle Dentists
And A Hastily-Concieved Blogging Project!

Thursday, December 29, 2005

I'm bound under ball and chain; Reminiscing our love as I watch four seasons change

On the fourth day of Crimmess, my true love (aka: the Internet) gave to me:

Four Minutes of Jibba-Jabba!

Because absoultely nothing says "Happy Birthday Baby Jesus" like an 80s fashion show emceed by Mr. T. Seriously you guys, I come bearing gold, frankinsence, myrrh, ripped sweats, and bad hair. I should warn y'all about Jeff though... he's so fucking gay, he tried to play Joseph in the Hammistan nativity while dressed as Judy Garland.

It could have been worse though - imagine if Jeff got his way and played Joseph's Babymomma. Personally, I couldn't bear to think about Dorothy Gale copping a squat and popping out the Lamb of Hosts. It would totally ruin the holidays for me if Jesus was Liza Minelli's brother.

After that, why not learn all about poppin' and breakin' with T and some kids who've obviously been hanging out at the Teen Center... drinking their milk... staying in school... Oh come on whitey, where else are you gonna learn how to be cool? You know you want to, cracker!

Ha! Did my massive peer pressure coerce you to watch Mr. T try to breakdance? Well, if you had watched this informative clip about peer pressure, you'd know how to resist my siren-like charms... well, at least you'd know how to resist me if I trapped you between New Edition and the ocean, and tried to force you to drink beer I found in a garbage can... all while Mr. T stood nearby and attempted to stave off his epileptic fits.
On second thought, it's not really that useful, is it? Well, I bet that chick with all the makeup would put out if you got a couple more warm beers in her...

Ha Ha, just kidding. Intead, just rap about how life doesn't suck so much in the ghetto. You know, because of God and stuff.

Remember kids: Christmas without Mr. T is absoludicrous!

P.S. If you prefer your Christmas "Feliz Navidad" flavored (which I think is spanish for "My Dad, Felix, is in the Navy for Christmas") then there's always the Univision version of Mr. T... whom I happen to think looks a hell of a lot like Burt Reynolds.

Three Absolutely Unexpected Violent Incidents
Two Turtle Dentists
And A Hastily-Concieved Blogging Project!

If you can't stand the bass, take your crabby ass home!

I wanted to take a short little pause from our holiday revelry and shoot out a special greeting to anyone who might be celebrating racially-divisive bogus socialist festivals that do nothing to bring all God's people together as one. So, if there's anyone out there like that, my message to you is thus:

Fuck Kwanzaa. Fuck it up the ass.

Granted, La Shawn Barber says it so much more elegantly than I ever will. Ann Coulter sends along her seasonal greetins as well.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

And those three small words were way too late

On the third day of Christmas, the internets gave to me:

Three Absolutely Unexpected Violent Incidents

To quote Captain Renault - I'm shocked, shocked to learn that there was violence at a party attended by Puffy Combs! And to think this is how he's treating the legacy of his meal ticket good buddy, Biggie Smalls... for shame, Piddly, for shame.

Seriously you guys, it doesn't take Miss Cleo to see that an album release party for Notorious B.I.G. and Puffy would have some violent incidents. I honestly wouldn't be surprised to learn that it was staged to get some publicity for the CD - especially since I haven't heard jack squat about the project until the release party makes the news.
Let's not even get into the whole issue of Puffy making a career out of being Biggie's friend, and sponging off of his talent ever since his death. There's twice as many BIG albums put out since he's been dead than he ever did alive... Makes that whole "Paul is Dead" thing look half-assed by comparison. It's just sad that Diddy's dragged Biggie's poor mother into the whole fucked-up thing. Her son's drug-addled thug ass deserves better treatment.

Two Turtle Dentists

And a Hastily-Concieved Blogging Project

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

No matter how you toss the dice, it had to be.

On the second day of Crispness, the webidex gave to me:

Two Turtle Dentists

How pathetic is this shit? When people are sleeping in the street, because their houses were stolen by the city to make way for marinas and condos... we're pissing our time away on dentists for turtles. And then the fucking thing has the nerve to go and die because of his stupid kidneys. That turtle is a major-league asshole.
And the most expensive soup bowl I've ever heard of. Still, you've got to admire how Herme the turtle still kept his punk roots while geeking out with that bigassed headgear there - Check out his Darth Maul tats, yo.

And a hastily-planned blogging project!

Monday, December 26, 2005

Now the world is gone I’m just one

On the first day of X-Mas, the intertron gave to meeeee...

A hastily concieved blogging pro-ject!

So here's the deal: After being subjected to the "Continuous X-Mas music from Halloween until Groundhog's Day" radio station yesterday, while they ran what must have been an hour-long block of 12 Days of X-Mas parodies and whatall, I'm going to try some cheap imitation and blog a dozen days in a row over the holiday season. Naturally, I'll be doing it in the form of a shoddy "12 Days" song.

No, I'm not coming up with 364 different links of stuff for you to look at. (For those of you unable to pass the extremely scientific interweb version of an 8th Grade math test, 364 is the total number of gifts in the song... or at least it would be if you counted 224 birds shitting all over everything as a "gift.")
I'm doing good to have the verses be reasonably singable. Of course the song would suck, but then again so does my singing voice. Sure, I can sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" as good or better than Harry Caray, and I can belt out a drunken sea-chantey like nobody's business... but have you ever heard a white man sing "Respect?"
Well, if you have, you know that you shouldn't.

Incidentally, If this is a Twelve Days of X-Mas thing... why did I wait until the 26th to start the thing? According to Snopes, who I'm told are rather adept at ferreting out the truth of strange information, the actual 12 Days of X-Mas are the days between the birth of the late J.C. and the coming of the three ragheads on Jan 6th - referred to as the epiphany (probably because they were all stoned out of their minds with all that frankincense and myrrh)

So here's to blogging projects! Hopefully I'll make it through all twelve days, and not fall apart after a week like those hosers, the McKenzie Brothers. Happy Boxing Day, eh.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

I've been to school and baby, I've been the teacher

A quick thought for the day:

It's been said that "Idle hands are the Devil's workshop." You longtime readers know that I walk the straight and narrow path. Well, today I'm going to let you in on the secret to my success. In order to keep right with the Lord, I masturbate as much as humanly possible.

I suggest that if you've got spare time, you could benefit from giving yourself a hand. If enough people get on board with this, we'd have one heck of a movement... well at least for the five minutes at a time that people are focused on our goals.
The best name I can think of off the top of my head is "Jerkin' for Jesus," but if you've got a better one, let's hear it.

Previous ponderations:
Bolton's in da Hizzy

Saturday, December 17, 2005

The city’s her slave, he’s cheating his mistress

Hot off the presses, here's the latest entry into the "No Fucking Shit" files: (via AP/Breitbart)

Annan Tells Bush Iraq Vote Went Well

WASHINGTON - U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan told President Bush Friday that he was pleased with the vote in Iraq as they discussed ways in which the international community could provide help in Iraq, the White House said. Annan told Bush that violence in Iraq was low, voter turnout was high and that the Iraqi people had cleared another hurdle "on the road to democracy," said Federick Jones, spokesman for the National Security Council.

Golly, Kofi, how can you really be sure about the vote going so smoothly? I mean, seriously, it must be hard to get a good view from way the hell in the back seat there. The UN hasn't done jack shit in Iraq since they bugged out of there like little pussies after one fucking car bomb took out a couple security guards last year.
Is there anything at all the UN can point to that they actually did to improve the situation in Iraq, or lead to increasing stability? Not "No," but "Hell No." They dragged their feet for nine months before combat operations even began... (because, you know, Saddam just needed one more
two more eighty-twelve more last chances) and that was when they were being cooperative.

One car bomb, that's all it took for Kofi "Oil-For-Food-For-Massive-Slushfund-Cash" Annan to pull the plug on Iraq, and abandon the people to the wolves. Granted, that's typical UN protocol for dealing with people who don't have any feasible method of bribery...
Honestly, I'm not so sure the Iraqi voters were dipping the correct finger into purple ink. I'm thinking it should have been the middle one.
Annan and Bush also discussed the status of the investigation into the murder of Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, as well as ways to help end ongoing violence in the Sudan's war torn Darfur region.
Now, I'm no international relations expert or anything, but may I make just a teensy suggestion here? Perhaps if the "Peacekeeper" troops the UN sent to conflict regions actually, you know, were empowered to keep the peace, that might be a start. Also, if they actually acted responsibly with that power, instead of oh, say, wantonly raping and pillaging the area like fucking Leif Ericsson... that also might be a step in the right direction too.

Look, I know that it's not an easy thing to get a handle on, so maybe you'll want to CC Kojo in on this one; I hear he's quite an accomplished business professional nowadays. At the very least, he'll be able to hook a brother up with some of that "mayonnaise-For-Teen-Ass" action, right?

Update: Iraqi voter Betty Dawisha, on what made the first free elections in decades possible. "Anybody that doesn't appreciate what America has done - and President Bush, let them go to hell."

Purple Finger - Check.
Middle Finger - Check.

I love this woman. She's like the Iraqi version of "The Fruitcake Lady." Michael Moore or Mommy Sheehan wouldn't last ten seconds against a firebrand like Ms. Dawisha. Anyway, I'd heard this audio clip on the radio as part of election coverage, but it turns out The Political Teen has the video.

Friday, December 16, 2005

Have you met my friend Kyle's mom?

If you haven't heard anything at all about "Brokeback Mountain," and were planning on seeing it sometime in the near future, then by all means, look away quickly.


So pretty much all anyone is saying about this movie in the publicity circuit is that it's about


Which, really only goes to show you that Eric Cartman is the most prescient film critic in the fucking universe... and hell, he's only a cartoon. What reamins to be discovered of course, is the exact extent that bucketfuls of pudding play in the film.

I'm not one to throw out spoilers, so I'll leave the pudding question for you guys to discover on your own. What I did want to share was my personal favorite scene from Brokeback Mountain. (or, as I like to call it, "Rocky Mountain Bi.") The Christmas scene where our two pudding-eating protagonists are exchanging gifts with each other was quite touching. When they both open up the tastefully wrapped boxes, and to our surprise everyone gets assless chaps! It was like the queer "Gift of the Magi" or something.
Also a treat was the cameo from the indian chief from the Village People. I understand that it was a bit tricky plot-wise to work in the sailor and the biker, but still - it woulda been cool to see everyone in action.

Anyway, that's my report. I'll see you next time at the movies... (I'll be the guy in the raincoat making low moaning noises.)

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Well, I was unshakable in what I did believe

Our buddy Rachel is a corker of the highest order. If you haven't poked your nose around over at her site, here's just a taste of what you're missing:

Racism, Eh?

A few weeks ago I had some quiet drinks with fellow bloggers and TimT gave me a present. A yellow sticker for the back of my wheelchair stating “Terrorists. Fuck ‘em” with a great big middle finger sticking up. I immediately had him put it on the back of my chair figuring it would be a great way to start conversations, I just didn’t realise how great.

Someone noticed it on my chair yesterday and the following conversation ensued,

“Rach, don’t you think that sticker is, um, just a little racist?”

“No, why? I don’t have anything against the Irish as a people.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Well, I don’t have a problem with the Basques or Tamils as a people either.”

“C’mon Rach, you know what I mean.”

“No I don’t, please explain.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little anti-Muslim?”

“Well who’s racist now?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is referring to a religion as a race.”

“Do you realise how bloody facetious you are?”


“Another round of beer?”

“For sure.”

All terrorists can go get stuffed in my opinion, whether Irish, Basque, Islamic or Tamil or whatever the fuck. Nothing can ever justify the killing of innocent people to instill fear in a whole population just because you think your cause is so darned special.

I laughed myself silly at that one, Rach. Thanks for making my day. Although now that I mention it, you're probably posting another insane search string right now... because that's what I'm thinking about posting later on today.

Monday, December 05, 2005

Time will tell on their power minds

Something interesting popped up yesterday at Cox & Forkum. According to Fox News, Iran's space agency is pushing hard to develop their satellite program before the imperialist infidels and zionist oppressors can shut them down. Damn the luck, eh?

Iran has major ambitions in space, looking to show off its technological abilities, monitor its neighborhood — where the United States has hundreds of thousands of troops — and establish itself as a regional superpower.

It makes similar peaceful claims for its atomic program, but Washington and others suspect the real aim of that work is to acquire nuclear weapons and have sought to clamp down on Iran's nuclear facilities. Iran worries its space program will be targeted, too.

"We have to build our own satellites, our own launchers. We need to be one of eight top countries mastering space technology," said Ahmad Talebzadeh, the head of the Iranian Space Agency.

No shit. Anyone that spends two seconds thinking about how precise your systems must be to launch a satellite into a stable orbit, and the prospect of Iran vowing to wipe Israel off the map can figure out exactly what they have in mind. The crux of this, and it should cause every one of you reading to take heed that events in shithole third world nations like Iran affect everyone, is that if one has launchers capable of reaching escape velocity, then they're able to field ICBMs. Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles.
Iran has an interest in keeping the city of Jerusalem intact, as well as many other holy sites in Judea and Samara... but once they have the technology, what's to stop them from nuking the New World until it glows? I can't think of anything that islam to say about the western hemisphere... other than calling us the Great Satan.

Still think Bush's missile defense plan is a waste of money on an outdated Cold War relic?

Even more infuriatingly, they're getting most of the new equpiment from Russia. Yes, the same Russia that's busy quelling its own muslim rebellion in Chechnya is busy selling weapons to the nation that boasted it would give nukes to jihadis if only it had them to give. Additionally, Iran's Thug-In-Chief promised that "Anybody who recognises Israel will burn in the fire of the Islamic nation's fury." Exactly what sort of fire might he be talking about, hmmm...

The Russkies should just save themselves the hassle and shoot themselves, rather than selling the bloodthirsty mullas a gun that can shoot us all. Please just go have some borsht and Stoli while those of us who haven't lost our fucking minds sort these assholes out.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

So hug it tight and embrace it

Hey there kids, it's your old buddy Stew-nta Claws, back with some more gift giving tips for worn-out holiday shoppers. You'll recall that last time, I suggested a gift more appropriate to adults (while plenty of two-year olds love playing with feces, it's not reccomended to encourage it) so this time I'm plugging a little something for the kids.

The Pseudo Transportation Safety Administration Airline Screener Playset.

While this exercise in bueracratic tedium is a pain in the ass for most travelers, rest assured that it will provide literally tens of minutes of entertainment for your little bastards (and possibly your baby-daddies as well) Still, the set isn't without its flaws, so just to give you a heads up:
Many bloggers have pointed out the lack of removeable shoes makes for a less-than-authentic play experience. Ditto the lack of a No-Fly List. This can be countered by hyping up the fact that the only traveler included is a middle-aged woman. That's right, just like the real TSA screeners, you child can go out of his way to avoid scrutinizing young arab men. Instead, they get to bother Aunt Gladys... huzzah!

Also, astute parents will note the lack of a back room in which Aunt Gladys can be detained and and strip searched. Many children (and Gladys) will be unhappy that dykey female screeners won't have an opportunity to grope her with impunity. She also won't have to cry hysterically as her husband is led away in handcuffs for no apparent reason. And of course, after the child is born, Aunt Gladys also won't be forced to stand behind the magical velvet ropes while her angelic newborn screams her head off as screeners frisk her.
No, none of those wonderful events will be happening to Aunt Gladys because she's the only fucking person flying on a plane today. How many times has that ever happened to you? People, that's never happened to me, and I have my own fucking sled. The main difference is that while the creepy Pakistani guy you're crammed with in coach only smells like a reindeer's ass, I have to ride behind an actual reindeer's ass. Thirteen of them, in fact.
You try enjoying a scenic flight around the world while smelling Vixen's doofballs all night. I'm serious, that girl is like a refinery with the amount of methane she's putting out. She's responsible for enough global warming to turn the North Pole into Myrtle Beach.

Anyway, before I get too bummed out about this and rescind my suggesting it as a gift, I'd like to point out that both screeners come equipped with guns. Big Fucking Guns to waste unruly travelers. (or Aunt Gladys, if you prefer) Do you realize how rare it is to find toys for kids that include guns? Especially realistic-looking ones! Snap this fucker up ASAP, parents... sooner than you think instead of guns, all toy cops will be issued a bunch of Valentine Cards to help perps understand that someone loves them and they should stop pulling heists. Maybe the deluxe sets will have a guitar so they can sing Kum-bai-yah at the station house.

Thanks to Daniel at Concurring Opinions for his great post about this toy, and Michelle Malkin for giving it a well-deserved plug.

Previous Visions of Sugarplums from Stew-nta Claws:
I Shit You Not.