War: August 2007 Archives
News hodgepodge y'all:
Larry Fuckin Craig (R - Idahomo)
Sorry, that was in poor poor taste, but I can at least apologize for something. Larry Craig has only apologized for pleading guilty to charges he now claims are false. Fabricated. He's essentially calling a veteran police sergeant a liar. We LOVE our law enforcement, and we feel that they answer our nation's call to serve, often plunging headlong into danger and uncertainty. They are the real heroes of this country. You know, until they catch you cruising for bathroom blowjobs at an airport; then they're lying scum, not to be trusted. I personally don't feel he did anything wrong. If you can't solicit a stranger for sex in a very nonchalant sort of secret cruiser code, then what can you do?
My only problem is the lying. Just stop with this "he said, he said" balderdash. When the cop showed you his badge, Mr. Senator, you screamed, "NO!" Nothing else you say explains that away. It's the key to this entire case. Why did you cry out in negatory anguish when some guy next to you pulled out his badge and pointed at the door? I wouldn't say "NO!!!!!" if I wasn't doin' nothing. I would, of course, ask, "what?" It seems to me that any sort of rational person would start with a question or something. Let's take a look at some more rational responses than "NO!":
1. "What the fuck is that?"
2. "Um, can I help you?"
3. "I swear, I'm not stealing toilet paper!"
4. "What are you, the Feces Police?"
5. "Hey! Cut that out!"
6. "A little privacy, please."
7. "Oh, shit. And here I thought you wanted to help me get rid of this raging 62-year-old boner. Well, let's step outside so you can book me and end my political career. You caught me red-handed, old sport!"
The Reaper
The U.S. military has had some pretty cool recent advances in remote warfare. Since 9/11, we've been employing Predator drones (the terrorists are the PREY!), fully loaded with Stinger missiles (ooh, I bet that stings, motherfucker). We recently introduced armed robots to the battlefields of the war on terror, codenamed SWORDS. Bad fuckin ass. Now, we've got a fully-loaded super drone that's on par with a real fighter jet in terms of the payload it carries. According to USA Today, that's 3,750 lbs. of joystick-operated bombs. The name? How about "Reaper," ladies and gents? You will reap what you sow! You sowed violence on 9/11, and the fucking Reaper is coming to your home and killing all ur dudes, Usama! Sorry, this is all a bit out of control. If we name our next robot "Angel of Death," I'm turning in the keys to my blog. For reals. Why don't you just call the next one "Martyrmaker," and get it over with? I'm sick of this zealous hard-on for blowing people to fuck. Just because some of their crazies have it doesn't mean my tax bux need to have it.
One fucking Reaper costs $69 million, btw.
You Would Slit Your Wrist Too, If You Were Owen Wilson
I hate to revel in the pain of others, but someone needed to stop Owen Wilson from turning in a relentless stream of diarrheal movie performances. Good on him to step up and take care of that. Maybe the knife he put to his wrist and the pills he guzzled will serve as a wake-up call that it's not too late: he used to be funny about 7 years ago (yep, that's when Meet the Parents came out). I only have trouble imagining how he lived so long with the turmoil of being what he had become. That he finally tore at his own circulatory system in a fit of substantiated self-destruction might assure that we'll never see another "YOU ME AND DUPREE." Honestly, stop being surprised this happened.
I do want to say that my thoughts are with him and his brothers, as well as all of their family. I wish him a speedy recovery, and I hope the blood he lost is the blood that was flowing in his brain when he read the script for "YOU ME AND DUPREE," and thought, "fuck it, let's go."
