Recently in Pestilence Category
At once the single stupidest, most insulting motion picture I have ever watched in my entire life.
For the lion's share of Sandler's movie career, he has been an unassuming buffoon who dispatches his tormentors with bouts of wheezing, nasally cries of rage and outlandish, disproportionate, often shocking acts of physical violence.
In this turn, he is a full realization of the entity to which he has always aspired. He is superhuman; invincible. He has an enormous package and fucks every woman he sees. In every situation into which he enters, he is almost godlike in his ability to overwhelm every one and every thing he touches.
Why is this troublesome to me? The movie is racist, senseless, baseless, humorless, xenophobic, fantastically psychotic and violent, tone-deaf, sickening, hateful, spiteful, scornful, mirthless, witless, and pointless.
The protagonist rejoices in his ability to debase elderly women in a serial, bafflingly intense way. He perpetrates violence on young children, animals, or anyone who gets in his way. Yeah? He plays hacky-sack with a cat, or urinates on it, or smothers it in hummus. Why? What on Earth is this egomaniacal, outrageously unfunny, insanely mindbending display of comic action, bodily fluid slapstick, and conflict-dismissing descent into complete and utter nihilistic, pan-corporate, godforsaken human degradation? Why does Mr. Sandler wander across a beach, fully nude, catching both a hacky-sack and a grilled fish in his ass cheeks within the span of 2 minutes?
I should've walked out. I stayed until the last frame, hating this abomination with every fiber of my being. This is is neither comedy nor entertainment. It is agonizing tragedy. It is Adam Sandler masturbating into a violin on film while we all march toward the Auschwitz of our human souls.
Please, Jesus, strike dead tonight Misters Smigel, Sandler, and Apatow, as well as anyone who aided and abetted them in producing and unleashing this visual, auditory, and experiential atrocity.
Zero stars.
For the lion's share of Sandler's movie career, he has been an unassuming buffoon who dispatches his tormentors with bouts of wheezing, nasally cries of rage and outlandish, disproportionate, often shocking acts of physical violence.
In this turn, he is a full realization of the entity to which he has always aspired. He is superhuman; invincible. He has an enormous package and fucks every woman he sees. In every situation into which he enters, he is almost godlike in his ability to overwhelm every one and every thing he touches.
Why is this troublesome to me? The movie is racist, senseless, baseless, humorless, xenophobic, fantastically psychotic and violent, tone-deaf, sickening, hateful, spiteful, scornful, mirthless, witless, and pointless.
The protagonist rejoices in his ability to debase elderly women in a serial, bafflingly intense way. He perpetrates violence on young children, animals, or anyone who gets in his way. Yeah? He plays hacky-sack with a cat, or urinates on it, or smothers it in hummus. Why? What on Earth is this egomaniacal, outrageously unfunny, insanely mindbending display of comic action, bodily fluid slapstick, and conflict-dismissing descent into complete and utter nihilistic, pan-corporate, godforsaken human degradation? Why does Mr. Sandler wander across a beach, fully nude, catching both a hacky-sack and a grilled fish in his ass cheeks within the span of 2 minutes?
I should've walked out. I stayed until the last frame, hating this abomination with every fiber of my being. This is is neither comedy nor entertainment. It is agonizing tragedy. It is Adam Sandler masturbating into a violin on film while we all march toward the Auschwitz of our human souls.
Please, Jesus, strike dead tonight Misters Smigel, Sandler, and Apatow, as well as anyone who aided and abetted them in producing and unleashing this visual, auditory, and experiential atrocity.
Zero stars.
Barack Obama has brought to the surface the simmering issue we've all faced since the day we were born in this country: we will never view people of a different skin color from our own as our human equivalent. To be honest, my high school education in Lincoln, Nebraska paid semesters-worth amounts of time to covering thing like segregation, "separate but equal," and apartheid. What good came of it? I'm not talking about myself, personally. What does education do to improve racial equality? What does seeing many many videos of Southern blacks being sprayed with firehoses in the '60s do to bring one's level of understanding to a new place?
It never does anything. The biggest single hurdle Obama is facing in his quest for the presidency is that people will judge him by the color of his skin, rather than the quality of his character. Has there ever been a politician like Mr. Obama? A black man will be the Democratic nominee for President of the United States. Look through your history books. Dissect the imagery. Give it another look beyond that. Did you ever expect this in your lifetime? Whitey could let a black man be ruler of the land. It's only a few steps from happening. Will it happen? How bullshit is it that I need to ask these questions?
As we've seen in West Virginia, and as we'll see in Kentucky, voters are rejecting Mr. Obama outright for the most baseless reasons imaginable. They don't think he has a way forward for our country. They think he's secretly a MOOSLEM. They think all kinds of things which aren't true, and they usually sit in pancake houses and breathe awful, undignified insults to his character to national news reporters through rotten teeth and bits of chewed bacon. Their color? White. These folks is as white as pure snow.
There's a guy out there preaching to the choir. Educated folks is selecting Obama by a large margin. Poor workin' folks is exposin' our inherent racism. No matter what education level you reach, you're a racist. Period. You have suspicions about other groups of races getting together and saying things about your race. Yes, you do.
What do we do? Why can't Obama be President? When you sit down in the voting booth (you are white), are YOU going to cast a vote for Mr. Obama over the white war hero John McCain? These narratives are set up so perfectly. A secret muslim black against a fuckin' WAR HERO white. What else can I even say?
We've been worried that the media is controlling our actions for quite some time. Now, there's a direct application of this principle. You've got an eloquent, fresh, brilliant man running for president in the hopes of getting to Washington and taking a Real Man look at how business is being done. On the other hand, you've got a rotten-to-the-core old bastard running for president who eschews Cialis in favor of imagined bombings of dark religious heathens. Yet, we're divided. We can't see the way forward. We are baited into our worst possible instincts. All of our education is naught in the face of Greta Van Susteren and Karl Rove sitting in a tiny studio playing clips of a black preacher taken out of context from a 7-year-old sermon and repeating line after line after line after line of sicko hitjob politics in order to crucify the black man on a modern media cross. For the corporate good. To make the shareholders get that extra-special chub as they hit the golf course this Friday morning in resplendent spring sunlight. You can't even smell the dust wafting in from Iraq's freshest smoldering child-remains-crater.
Let's go on with our business. We can't elect a black man to president. It's just not possible; the media just can't allow itself to tell the truth about what really might be afoot in our world. No. No, we can't. We sure, sure can't.
It never does anything. The biggest single hurdle Obama is facing in his quest for the presidency is that people will judge him by the color of his skin, rather than the quality of his character. Has there ever been a politician like Mr. Obama? A black man will be the Democratic nominee for President of the United States. Look through your history books. Dissect the imagery. Give it another look beyond that. Did you ever expect this in your lifetime? Whitey could let a black man be ruler of the land. It's only a few steps from happening. Will it happen? How bullshit is it that I need to ask these questions?
As we've seen in West Virginia, and as we'll see in Kentucky, voters are rejecting Mr. Obama outright for the most baseless reasons imaginable. They don't think he has a way forward for our country. They think he's secretly a MOOSLEM. They think all kinds of things which aren't true, and they usually sit in pancake houses and breathe awful, undignified insults to his character to national news reporters through rotten teeth and bits of chewed bacon. Their color? White. These folks is as white as pure snow.
There's a guy out there preaching to the choir. Educated folks is selecting Obama by a large margin. Poor workin' folks is exposin' our inherent racism. No matter what education level you reach, you're a racist. Period. You have suspicions about other groups of races getting together and saying things about your race. Yes, you do.
What do we do? Why can't Obama be President? When you sit down in the voting booth (you are white), are YOU going to cast a vote for Mr. Obama over the white war hero John McCain? These narratives are set up so perfectly. A secret muslim black against a fuckin' WAR HERO white. What else can I even say?
We've been worried that the media is controlling our actions for quite some time. Now, there's a direct application of this principle. You've got an eloquent, fresh, brilliant man running for president in the hopes of getting to Washington and taking a Real Man look at how business is being done. On the other hand, you've got a rotten-to-the-core old bastard running for president who eschews Cialis in favor of imagined bombings of dark religious heathens. Yet, we're divided. We can't see the way forward. We are baited into our worst possible instincts. All of our education is naught in the face of Greta Van Susteren and Karl Rove sitting in a tiny studio playing clips of a black preacher taken out of context from a 7-year-old sermon and repeating line after line after line after line of sicko hitjob politics in order to crucify the black man on a modern media cross. For the corporate good. To make the shareholders get that extra-special chub as they hit the golf course this Friday morning in resplendent spring sunlight. You can't even smell the dust wafting in from Iraq's freshest smoldering child-remains-crater.
Let's go on with our business. We can't elect a black man to president. It's just not possible; the media just can't allow itself to tell the truth about what really might be afoot in our world. No. No, we can't. We sure, sure can't.
I just bought a really big fucking external hard drive. It's like 750 gigabytes, which is a shit ton of fuck. It's funny, though - when I bought the components to my new PC a year ago, I was like, "hmmm, 250 GB should last me for a few years." I'm on pace to shatter that within one year, and I couldn't even tell you how. Not a single byte of the drive space consumption is naughty movies, and I've only installed like 4 games. It's just getting out of control with music and funny vids and shit.
Anyhow, I was really struck by how odd it is to be buying storage in that quantity. I mean, adding it up, HOLY FUCK I'LL HAVE A FUCKING TB SITTING ON THE CORNER OF MY DESK. It was hard to imagine such a thing only a handful of years ago. Shit, my fam's 1st PC was like 850 MB. And now what do I have, like 750,000,000 kilobytes, roughly? It's funny that a 10 KB image is still fine enough to capture a fully recognizable image of my face. So, I could pass it to someone who knew me, on a flash card, and they'd say, "Adam!" It's amazing that you can do that -- something so universal and undeniably powerful -- with such a comparably infinitesimal portion of a modern hard disk drive.
What I've been discussing is the simple idea of a 10 KB visual depiction of my face being dwarfed into practical nonexistence by the medium which would store and retain it. Can you imagine that, in our lifetimes, a similar, let's say, 80 terabyte disk image of an exact replica of one's own human mind might be likewise rendered fully insignificant, by even the unfathomably large capacity storage devices we'll carry around in our front pockets?
Well, that is, if the terrorists don't destroy our civilization first and send all our progress back to the Dark Ages. That's why I'm voting McCain in '08.
Anyhow, I was really struck by how odd it is to be buying storage in that quantity. I mean, adding it up, HOLY FUCK I'LL HAVE A FUCKING TB SITTING ON THE CORNER OF MY DESK. It was hard to imagine such a thing only a handful of years ago. Shit, my fam's 1st PC was like 850 MB. And now what do I have, like 750,000,000 kilobytes, roughly? It's funny that a 10 KB image is still fine enough to capture a fully recognizable image of my face. So, I could pass it to someone who knew me, on a flash card, and they'd say, "Adam!" It's amazing that you can do that -- something so universal and undeniably powerful -- with such a comparably infinitesimal portion of a modern hard disk drive.
What I've been discussing is the simple idea of a 10 KB visual depiction of my face being dwarfed into practical nonexistence by the medium which would store and retain it. Can you imagine that, in our lifetimes, a similar, let's say, 80 terabyte disk image of an exact replica of one's own human mind might be likewise rendered fully insignificant, by even the unfathomably large capacity storage devices we'll carry around in our front pockets?
Well, that is, if the terrorists don't destroy our civilization first and send all our progress back to the Dark Ages. That's why I'm voting McCain in '08.
Holy shit, y'all! I gotta say, when I submitted a request with Mitt Romney's press team to conduct a one-on-one webcam chat with the big spoon presidential candidate, I expected to be turned down out of hand. My oh my! In a huge coup, Mitt decided to sit down with Adam Danger dot com for a chat to discuss the issues.
Well, or at least that was the idea. He's a real perv! I have the whole transcript, but check out this bizarre series of statements by Mr. Romney:
Hit the jump fuckas:
Well, or at least that was the idea. He's a real perv! I have the whole transcript, but check out this bizarre series of statements by Mr. Romney:
Hit the jump fuckas:
Continue reading Webcammin' with Big Spoon Mitt Romney.
America is a country. We're sick; deeply sick. Injured. We've suffered injurious amounts of sickness in a particular dimension of our being, amounting to the current confused state in which we all find ourselves. Who are we anymore?
When there's some awful malady that you can't ignore, the only way out is pain or death. Pain is suffered for the fix; the surgery. Which part needs surgery? The back? Is our back figuratively broken? No. You will never break the back of America. The backbone of America is embodied by some 67-year-old guy named Gus who gets up at 5:30 AM to head down to the city square and clean up your trash. That's the American back, and it remains healthy as hell.
Legs? A broken leg(s)? No, those are just fine. That's our economy, sound as ever. Cyclical, yes. The left leg of the government moves in time with the right leg of the free market. We would go in a fucking circle without one sweeping forward to carry the momentum of the other. There are rough times, but these legs cannot be broken.
Maybe our country has suffered a broken arm. Nope, doesn't seem that way to me. We trade with other nations and we produce our own goods just as well as anyone else on Earth. Maybe one arm takes more than the other produces, but that's not a broken arm. That's just confusion. Why so confused? Hold on a sec.
I have to address the heart. The heart of this country is not broken. They're serving in Baghdad and Kabul and anywhere else they are sent. They enable the flow of freedom through our circulatory system just like they always have, pumping and pumping in perfect athletic fitness. Our defenses alone determine the ability of our arms to reach and build and destroy, all through the providence of freedom's deep crimson bloodflow. Our blood burns hot as our heart suffers blow after blow, but it is not broken. Not yet.
Where are we at? What is broken? Why, it's the brain, you see. We've lost our conscience. Without a journalistic media that oversees and exposes the governance put forth by the other parts of the brain, we are addled by whatever wishes and fantasies those who are in control of every other part so desire. Corrupt and gripped with megalomania, psychotic murder-sick justifications of mass killing, and unimpeded desire to consume and alter everything within our sphere of being, we find our body out of control.
The conscience alone could correct this horrid affliction, but as such an abstract device in our body's function, it has been lost to the omnivorous greed of our brain's center: the ruling class. With the passion in our heart and the freedom in our blood, we the people of these United States (the moral instinct) could compel ourselves to be rid of the sickness that gnaws the inner workings of our brain and drives our entire body ever further toward ruin.
Surgery could fix the conscience. Excision of the old conscience and implanting a new one built on the moral instinct of our blood and moment could be the one fix that saves the brain, correcting the corruptive forces of the dominant ruling section. Our overtaxed and overworked body could begin to relax again. We could stop leaping over oceans and partitions, suffering constant bruises and infections, and we could just be again, walking along with the twin legs of economy, the arms taking and giving what is needed, and the back providing steady guidance and upright movement.
Destroy the mass media. Fuck them all. Let's get together and poison their efforts, check their every injustice, and lay bare their every trick. A malfunctioning part of our figurative mind cannot poison our blood, it can only compel us toward slow suicide. It must be our instinct to push back.
When there's some awful malady that you can't ignore, the only way out is pain or death. Pain is suffered for the fix; the surgery. Which part needs surgery? The back? Is our back figuratively broken? No. You will never break the back of America. The backbone of America is embodied by some 67-year-old guy named Gus who gets up at 5:30 AM to head down to the city square and clean up your trash. That's the American back, and it remains healthy as hell.
Legs? A broken leg(s)? No, those are just fine. That's our economy, sound as ever. Cyclical, yes. The left leg of the government moves in time with the right leg of the free market. We would go in a fucking circle without one sweeping forward to carry the momentum of the other. There are rough times, but these legs cannot be broken.
Maybe our country has suffered a broken arm. Nope, doesn't seem that way to me. We trade with other nations and we produce our own goods just as well as anyone else on Earth. Maybe one arm takes more than the other produces, but that's not a broken arm. That's just confusion. Why so confused? Hold on a sec.
I have to address the heart. The heart of this country is not broken. They're serving in Baghdad and Kabul and anywhere else they are sent. They enable the flow of freedom through our circulatory system just like they always have, pumping and pumping in perfect athletic fitness. Our defenses alone determine the ability of our arms to reach and build and destroy, all through the providence of freedom's deep crimson bloodflow. Our blood burns hot as our heart suffers blow after blow, but it is not broken. Not yet.
Where are we at? What is broken? Why, it's the brain, you see. We've lost our conscience. Without a journalistic media that oversees and exposes the governance put forth by the other parts of the brain, we are addled by whatever wishes and fantasies those who are in control of every other part so desire. Corrupt and gripped with megalomania, psychotic murder-sick justifications of mass killing, and unimpeded desire to consume and alter everything within our sphere of being, we find our body out of control.
The conscience alone could correct this horrid affliction, but as such an abstract device in our body's function, it has been lost to the omnivorous greed of our brain's center: the ruling class. With the passion in our heart and the freedom in our blood, we the people of these United States (the moral instinct) could compel ourselves to be rid of the sickness that gnaws the inner workings of our brain and drives our entire body ever further toward ruin.
Surgery could fix the conscience. Excision of the old conscience and implanting a new one built on the moral instinct of our blood and moment could be the one fix that saves the brain, correcting the corruptive forces of the dominant ruling section. Our overtaxed and overworked body could begin to relax again. We could stop leaping over oceans and partitions, suffering constant bruises and infections, and we could just be again, walking along with the twin legs of economy, the arms taking and giving what is needed, and the back providing steady guidance and upright movement.
Destroy the mass media. Fuck them all. Let's get together and poison their efforts, check their every injustice, and lay bare their every trick. A malfunctioning part of our figurative mind cannot poison our blood, it can only compel us toward slow suicide. It must be our instinct to push back.
What follows is my open letter to Prezzinents Tush Bush. In it, I espouse a fairly unpopular position about an international conflict/crisis, but it's time for simple Americans to stand up and start helping our leader make the decision that he needs to make for the future of human life on this planet. The time is NOW. The enemy is NOT our elected government. No, sir. The enemy is the terrorists.
Dear Mr. Prezinent,
Please bomb the ever-loving fuck out of treacherous terrorland Iran. I've suspected their treachery for a long time, but your team's recent speeches have solidified in my mind the urgent need we all have to spill Iranian blood. There are two reasons why the Iranian Problem can only be solved by annihilating Iranian nationals who stand in our way:
There is also the question of the consequences of starting another bombing campaign. Also, the fact that Iran just threatened to launch 9,000 bombs at nearby American targets if we attack them from the air weighs heavy on the minds of many of the world's citizenry. I know you're too much of a chickenshit pussy to do it, but have you forgotten what we're launching this campaign over? You've got a nuclear weapon. How surprised do you think Iran would be if you just went ahead and shattered their entire populace and infrastructure with a single volley? Again, that's pie in the sky stuff, and I know you're probably a little hesitant. I just want to point out, for the record, that if any bombs hit American people in the region after you launch your attack, their blood will be on your hands for not listening to me and bringing nuclear holocaust upon the Iranian scums.
The time to act is now. We can't allow Iran to get a nuclear device; as your team has stated, we won't allow that to happen. Put your money where your mouth is and put the greatest military this world has ever known to work on the Iranian Problem, and together we can turn it into the Iranian Solution. If you don't, who will? If you don't, who will? I await your answer, Sir, and I only hope that it comes in a low rumble of bombs, followed by the wailing of sirens, lamenting women, and more airborne American ordinance, half a world away. The world will hear our music and know our resolve to defeat terror on this Earth for all of eternity.
P.S. - To all my Iranian friends who may miss the nuance of this message in translation: the preceding was a desperate piece of satire aimed at the sickening times in which we currently find ourselves mired. I hope against hope that my country doesn't bomb you. That is all. Please don't do a whois on me and slit my parents' throats; I wish you no harm. Quite the opposite, actually.
Dear Mr. Prezinent,
Please bomb the ever-loving fuck out of treacherous terrorland Iran. I've suspected their treachery for a long time, but your team's recent speeches have solidified in my mind the urgent need we all have to spill Iranian blood. There are two reasons why the Iranian Problem can only be solved by annihilating Iranian nationals who stand in our way:
- They are building a clandestine nuclear bomb. No international body will ever be able to prove that they're not mere months away from acquiring a nuclear device. Do we have time to wait for that which is never coming? Their unwavering evil efforts to attain a sensitive weapons technology we've repeatedly told them they cannot have must be brought to an end. What do you do when you tell your child he cannot have a cookie, but you think he might be edging toward the cookie jar as he stands in your kitchen under the watchful eye of satellite imagery and the most dialed-in intelligence network the world has ever seen? You split his head open with a hammer. The nerve they have, to actually think that they can eat cookies like we do. Bathe them in fire and let the ashes of their blood choke the lungs of the survivors.
- President Mahmoud Ahmadereacharound is a real douchebag. I'd like to add a cellphone video of him being hanged to my growing collection of videos of terrorists being executed by our comrades. If that's not possible, could we at least bomb the snot and brains out of him, then reassemble his cadaver for a worldwide "kill confirmation" simulcast? I'm honestly having an extra 10 minutes falling asleep every night as I work myself into a frenzy, praying for his death, so the least you could do is kill two birds with one stone and give me back that 10 minutes of my nightly routine. He said, and I'm not exaggerating, that he's planning to strap a nuclear weapon to his chest and detonate it in downtown Jerusalem personally. WHAT MORE CONFIRMATION OF HIS EVILNESS DO YOU NEED?
There is also the question of the consequences of starting another bombing campaign. Also, the fact that Iran just threatened to launch 9,000 bombs at nearby American targets if we attack them from the air weighs heavy on the minds of many of the world's citizenry. I know you're too much of a chickenshit pussy to do it, but have you forgotten what we're launching this campaign over? You've got a nuclear weapon. How surprised do you think Iran would be if you just went ahead and shattered their entire populace and infrastructure with a single volley? Again, that's pie in the sky stuff, and I know you're probably a little hesitant. I just want to point out, for the record, that if any bombs hit American people in the region after you launch your attack, their blood will be on your hands for not listening to me and bringing nuclear holocaust upon the Iranian scums.
The time to act is now. We can't allow Iran to get a nuclear device; as your team has stated, we won't allow that to happen. Put your money where your mouth is and put the greatest military this world has ever known to work on the Iranian Problem, and together we can turn it into the Iranian Solution. If you don't, who will? If you don't, who will? I await your answer, Sir, and I only hope that it comes in a low rumble of bombs, followed by the wailing of sirens, lamenting women, and more airborne American ordinance, half a world away. The world will hear our music and know our resolve to defeat terror on this Earth for all of eternity.
P.S. - To all my Iranian friends who may miss the nuance of this message in translation: the preceding was a desperate piece of satire aimed at the sickening times in which we currently find ourselves mired. I hope against hope that my country doesn't bomb you. That is all. Please don't do a whois on me and slit my parents' throats; I wish you no harm. Quite the opposite, actually.
I've been hung up on the idea of people who drive around listening to indecipherable static. No, I'm not talking about the new 50 Cent album. When I worked as a valet, I would sometimes enter cars from a variety of guests for the purpose of putting the cars away. Intermittently, but more than I ever would've expected, I would valet a car for a folk/pair of folks/group of folks that had the radio tuned to channels which don't come in. Rental cars, usually, and usually older people. A married couple, for instance, would pick up a car from the airport, get in, and drive the 15 minutes to the downtown hotel with the radio on -- tuned into pure static. That sound you get when you're between actual channels.
How could you sit there in your car with your wife, listening to nothing but indecipherable static, and not mind? I'm saying this was usually turned up to entirely audible levels. Who is the person who gets to that point? Will that happen to me someday, when I will be able to be such a dried up, useless person, that I will not even notice that the radio in my rental car isn't actually tuned to a channel, but I'm driving around listening to it?
Specifically, who are these people? They didn't even take the time to turn the radio off; indecipherable static, at a clearly audible level, was good enough. I'm wondering if they even spoke to one another, most times. I'm wondering if it says more about our society, as it relates to our minds and our attention span. Probably not, but it's an intriguing phenomenon. You may have never imagined that people would regularly do this, but I'm sad to report that many people (probably unintentionally) engaged in such an activity. Who are they?
How could you sit there in your car with your wife, listening to nothing but indecipherable static, and not mind? I'm saying this was usually turned up to entirely audible levels. Who is the person who gets to that point? Will that happen to me someday, when I will be able to be such a dried up, useless person, that I will not even notice that the radio in my rental car isn't actually tuned to a channel, but I'm driving around listening to it?
Specifically, who are these people? They didn't even take the time to turn the radio off; indecipherable static, at a clearly audible level, was good enough. I'm wondering if they even spoke to one another, most times. I'm wondering if it says more about our society, as it relates to our minds and our attention span. Probably not, but it's an intriguing phenomenon. You may have never imagined that people would regularly do this, but I'm sad to report that many people (probably unintentionally) engaged in such an activity. Who are they?
In case you haven't noticed (and I'm gathering you haven't), my updates have been sparse in this space for about the past week. I've been getting hacked like Shaq when he accidentally gets the ball with a 1 pt lead and 10 seconds left in a game. In other words, a lot. These looters and polluters are the most useless bastards in the world, generally stinking up the place by using scripts to rewrite all my indices across all my web content to point to Russian prescription drug sites. I DON'T CARE ABOUT IMPOTENT RUSSIAN COCKS! Leave me alone, you ass holes!
I realize I'm shouting into the wind. I just need some hacker-beating catharsis. I'm going to walk into Microsoft tomorrow and make an example out of a random Russian dev. He'll never see it coming:
It'll be great.
I realize I'm shouting into the wind. I just need some hacker-beating catharsis. I'm going to walk into Microsoft tomorrow and make an example out of a random Russian dev. He'll never see it coming:
Hot Adam Danger: Excuse me, can I buy some Cialis?
Random Commie: Da? What you say?
Hot Adam Danger: Oh, I thought since you're RUSSIAN and you're good with COMPUTERS you had some fucking ERECTILE drugs on you.
Random Commie: Excuse me? I am developer on Live Search. I think you mistake me for local oaf!
Hot Adam Danger: Wrong day, Commie. Wrong day. [hits Russian haxx0r in the privates with a discarded monitor cable]
Random Commie: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Hot Adam Danger: Nobody hacks The Dange. Send the message to all your commie friends.
Jessica Spano: In this age of glasnost, you can't say, "kick that commie's butt!"
Hot Adam Danger: Kick that commie's heinie!
It'll be great.
Holy smokes, kids. Look at old Fred Thompson, courtesy of Reuters:
Every time this guy articulates a sentence, his entire body jolts like he's jerkingly undulating in and out of a state of full rigor mortis. "I'm alive! I'm dead! I'm alive! I'm dead! I can't stop talking about 'down home American values!' I'm alive!"
I thought you had to be an attractive man to win the presidency in this day and age. You know, like women more or less decide the prezzinents because they (not you, you specific woman, if you're reading this) tend to vote with their engorged clitorii more than they vote with their heads or their pocketbooks. Someone find me that poll. Anyway, Fred Thompspoon is dead in the water if he can't stop photographing and videographing like a reanimated cadaver, with all the color and pallor of the walking embalmed. The fact that he sounds vaguely cranky can't help too much, neither.
Vote Corpse for Prez '08 fuck the world!
I thought you had to be an attractive man to win the presidency in this day and age. You know, like women more or less decide the prezzinents because they (not you, you specific woman, if you're reading this) tend to vote with their engorged clitorii more than they vote with their heads or their pocketbooks. Someone find me that poll. Anyway, Fred Thompspoon is dead in the water if he can't stop photographing and videographing like a reanimated cadaver, with all the color and pallor of the walking embalmed. The fact that he sounds vaguely cranky can't help too much, neither.
Vote Corpse for Prez '08 fuck the world!
"I have no recollection, Senator."
-- Robert Ritter
Quick question: have you EVER had a stranger, in a stall next to you in a public restroom facility, touch you, in any way, shape or form, in the entirety of your human life? Think really hard about it. I think, if a stranger's foot happened to receive a tap from my fucking foot, due to any action performed in a public restroom stall on my part, I'd be able to recall that, pretty clearly. I know I would immediately apologize and be ridiculously embarrassed. Now that this tape has come out, there is no other explanation for Senator Larry Craig's "wide stance" (that he didn't do anything inappropriate, and that he doesn't recall important details of the time shortly before his criminal arrest) of no wrongdoing. He is a liar. A fucking embarrassment to our United States.
Somebody link him to this blog and see if he wants to debate me on this.
-- Robert Ritter
Is anyone else sick of this "do not recall" horse shit? You can be in trouble for anything in the entire world, and all trouble can be wiped away if your only answer to any charges -- or any territory in which certain acknowledgments of having a functioning brain might put you in slight jeopardy -- is that you "have no recollection." Former A.G. Alberto Gonzales took the art of "no recall" to dizzying new heights with his several appearances before congressional committees, some of which had him decrying his ability to recall his own thoughts and actions at least 50 times in a few hours of testimony. He quit, yeah, but he didn't get in trouble for having the brain of a 12 year old F.A.S. addled problem child. Nobody called him on that shit; not really.
If you thought "do not recall," as a popular phrase, had experienced its best moment in human history in any of this recent American political wrangling, you were as delighted as I was this afternoon. Witness, in the case of admittedly indecent Senator Larry Craig, the transcript of his police interview, which was recorded shortly after his arrest at the Minneapolis International Airport (great place, btw). Key word being shortly, as in, "not even longer than the length of a short comedy movie":
If you thought "do not recall," as a popular phrase, had experienced its best moment in human history in any of this recent American political wrangling, you were as delighted as I was this afternoon. Witness, in the case of admittedly indecent Senator Larry Craig, the transcript of his police interview, which was recorded shortly after his arrest at the Minneapolis International Airport (great place, btw). Key word being shortly, as in, "not even longer than the length of a short comedy movie":
DK (Sgt. Dave Karsnia): Okay. Did you do anything with your feet?
LC (Senator Larry Craig): Positioned them, I don't know. I don't know at the time. I'm a fairly wide guy.
DK: I understand.
LC: I had to spread my legs.
DK: Okay.
LC: When I lower my pants so they won't slide.
DK: Okay.
LC: Did I slide them too close to yours? Did I, I looked down once, your foot was close to mine.
DK Yes.
LC Did we bump? Ah, you said so, I don't recall that, but apparently we were close.
DK Yeah, well your foot did touch mine, on my side of the stall.
LC: All right.
DK: Okay. And then with the hand. Urn, how many times did you put your hand under the stall?
LC: I don't recall. I remember reaching down once. There was a piece of toilet paper back behind me and picking it up.
DK: Okay. Was your was your palm down or up when you were doing that?
LC: I don't recall.
DK: Okay. I recall your palm being up. Okay.
LC: All right.
Quick question: have you EVER had a stranger, in a stall next to you in a public restroom facility, touch you, in any way, shape or form, in the entirety of your human life? Think really hard about it. I think, if a stranger's foot happened to receive a tap from my fucking foot, due to any action performed in a public restroom stall on my part, I'd be able to recall that, pretty clearly. I know I would immediately apologize and be ridiculously embarrassed. Now that this tape has come out, there is no other explanation for Senator Larry Craig's "wide stance" (that he didn't do anything inappropriate, and that he doesn't recall important details of the time shortly before his criminal arrest) of no wrongdoing. He is a liar. A fucking embarrassment to our United States.
Somebody link him to this blog and see if he wants to debate me on this.
