Posts Tagged ‘bullshit’

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When I make shit up, they don’t give me tax-exempt status

February 13, 2013

When the Pope said he was resigning, I was pretty confused because I didn’t know the Pope could do that.  They go through all that trouble and pomp to give you a position that grants you infallibility and moral authority, and now it turns out it’s  like any other job where you can quit when you feel like it? That’s some bullshit.  I’m supposed to kiss this guy’s papal ass when he can just retire like my grandpa did from his long-held position at the fucking shoe store?

Then it occurred to me that it’s kind of fucked up that God would choose you as the Pope and then make you unable to do your job.  And if God didn’t do that to the Pope then the Almighty dropped the damn ball – and dropped it hard – on protecting his top representative on his planet.  Or the cardinals cocked up selecting you to lead the Church, in that case it’s still God’s fault for not making his will clearly known to the people who represent his holy will.

Really, they’re just making shit up.

And the newest exhibit to back up that assertion was found on the Facebooks recently.  This letter from the Archdiocese of New Orleans regarding whether you can eat alligator during Lent:

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“alligator is considered in the fish family”

Look, we already know the Church will totally ditch the entire “no meat on Fridays” deal for a bitching party, but you can’t go calling an alligator a fish.  If you called an alligator a fish in your kindergarten class, you would not get a gold star that day.  You would not even get a silver star.  You would not get a happy face sticker either.  Fuck, I wouldn’t even give you a juice box either because I’d be afraid you’d hurt yourself with the straw.  Put on your helmet and try not to eat all of the glue.

“alligator is considered in the fish family”

But this is Louisiana, where gator is good eatin’, and that’s fine.  But if you want to sell me on the idea of the Lenten season being one of solemn sacrifice, you can’t make outrageous loopholes for its most basic rules, especially ones that completely ignore established biology.  I know the Church ain’t too big on science, but now we’re getting into “There are four lights” territory here.  No wonder most members of the Catholic Church use birth control despite the Church’s negative position on it.  You have ranking members of its hierarchy thinking reptiles are fish.

We already know the Church is in the pocket of Big Seafood (which is why Lent exists in the first place, but now they’re bowing to the local gator lobby now?  Have the lawsuits for all the child buggery reduced local archdioceses to do the bidding of lesser industries now?

Reptiles are fish, sure!  Women should have autonomy over their reproductive organs?  FUCK NO!  You broads can’t even become priests!  Go sit in the convent and hang back while the men make the important decisions for the Church, like what is a fish.  Shit, it’s like you’re not even trying to hide that you’re just making shit up, like you’re saying it’s not worth the effort to try and trick people anymore. Forget justifying our archaic stances with two millenia of doctrines, scripture, and theological debate – we’re just going to do a bunch of arbitrary shit now.

This has lodged in my brain because it’s a much easier thing to wrap my head around than institutionalized concealment of decades of child molestations.  The callousness and detachment by Church officials to cover up child molestations takes a lot of effort to imagine and comprehend, let alone to begin to fathom all of the resources put to work to hide these deeds.  But alligator is a fish – that’s an easier devil to understand because it’s just fucking retarded.  It’s like this archbishop decided to give up knowing what shit is called for Lent.

I’m going to eat a Baconator on Ash Wednesday, and it’s going to be delicious.  And Lent is bullshit.

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Studying that doesn’t require any studying whatsoever

October 14, 2012

Here at the Failure, we’ve been leading the way when it comes to the study of bullshit, because who better than the blog of wild fabrications and outright lies to conduct such research, right? And whenever election time comes around in the US, it’s prime bullshit season.  It’s like Haley’s Comet, solar eclipses, and summer blockbuster movie season all wrapped up into a giant bullshit burrito – and everyone gets to take a bite of it.

One of the key bullshit markers we’ve identified this year was people of a Christian bent spouting off bullshit and then trying to sidestep it by declaring that what really matters (other than the truth) is what’s in their heart, or that you don’t know what really in their heart, or their heart is telling them conflicting information than the actual truth.  We haven’t found any evidence of this happening with other faiths yet, but we’d be happy to include them on the list.

Well, there’s another phrase we need to be on the lookout for: “study it out.”  This was brought to our attention through an angry old lady yelling at Chris Matthews that President Obama is a communist – and then failing to explain why she makes that claim.

Matthews: What did you mean by that?

Romney Supporter: All you have to do is study it out. Just study it out and you’ll see. You haven’t done your homework, buddy.

Matthews: What do I need to study?

Romney Supporter: He’s a communist. And those of us who are not voting for him know it.

Matthews: And what do you mean by communist?

Romney Supporter: You don’t know?

Matthews: Just tell me. Help me out here. I want to know what you mean.

Romney Supporter: Oh I know what I mean.

Matthews: Well help us out. You’re on national television.

Romney Supporter: I know I’m on national television.

Matthews: Well tell me what you mean when you just accused the guy of being a communist.

Romney Supporter: You just study it out.

Apparently this phrase just isn’t a weird turn-of-phrase by a raging old woman untethered from reality, it has its roots in the Mormon Faith, which we’ve previously identified as the needless sequel Christianity never asked for.

But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.

It is sort of comforting to see that “truthiness,” as Stephen Colbert coined it, has been around for a while. We’d hate to believe this high level of bullshit was a recent phenomena. You will know what is right because it will feel right – a laughable sentiment because previous research in the Renal Failure labs has determined that your feelings don’t matter.

“Study it out” seems more insidious than the previous “what in my heart” defense because it suggests actual research and thinking being done when really you’re doing none of those things to come to your conclusion.  That’s why the woman is so indignant when asked to explain herself.  I her mind, she’s apparently done the necessary intellectual legwork and you haven’t, so fuck you she’s better than you.  Granted, it’s not hard to be smarter than Chris Matthews (who we are still waiting for someone to stab in the neck with a pencil), but even a number-one ranked team has to put in some effort to beat a team near the bottom of the standings.

So we are pleased to induct “study it out” into your Bullshit Phrase Hall of Fame, putting it right next “what’s in my heart” and “bless your heart” as phrases that denote high-level bullshittery going down. Special thanks to the Church of Latter Day Saints for providing this new term for us to use when we want to justify things when little to no evidence exists to support such selfish assertions.

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Retroactively my teenage years weren’t filled with humiliation and isolation

July 18, 2012

It’s been a busy week for us here at the Failure, ever since Mitt Romney taught us the secrets of time travel when one of his aides went on TV to say that Mitt had “retroactively retired” from Bain Capital in 1999 even though he still working there through 2002.  Retroactive is new bullshit flavor of the month, so get it while it’s still popular.

“I retroactively invented Instagram,” I say.  “And also I retroactively recorded the song The Humpty Dance.”

“Retroactive to 2005, I dated Sarah Michelle Gellar,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “It was such a hot relationship, no one remembers it even happening.

“Retroactively I got accepted to Princeton,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “And while we’re at it… I also got in with a 4.0 GPA, majored in Political Science, and eventually became a state senator.”

“I retroactively wore a rubber when I banged that twitchy freak room chick in that crack house,” says Anonymous Doug.  “So retroactively I did not need those penicillin shots and thus should get a refund from my general practitioner for services that were retroactively not rendered for the insane burning on my crotch that never happened.”

“Retroactively I wasn’t the last girl in my class to get her period,” says Ninja Vicki.   “Dorothy Radon fucking lied, and if she hadn’t been murdered by her ex-husband, I’d torture the shit out of her to make her confess.  Wait, I retroactively made Dorothy Radon confess to actually being the last in my class to get her period.  Fuck yeah bullshit time travel!”

“If I watch a bootleg copy of The Dark Knight Rises before it comes out in theaters, does that mean I retroactively saw it?”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “Because that’s what I did with the other two Batman movies.”

“My boss got on my case for being late to work, so I showed up early the next day and told him that meant I was retroactively on-time,” says Mikka.  “He wasn’t sure how that worked, so he couldn’t argue.”

“I retroactively went to my senior prom,” says Samurai Cathy.  “The country club that they held the prom at 16 years ago held a sword auction last month that I attended.  That counts.”

“Tag Larkin does nothing retroactively!”  says Tag Larkin.  “The world reacts retroactively to everything Tag Larkin does!”

We wrote this post on a Wednesday, but with WordPress publishing we could have retroactively posted to last Monday, but then you’d never know that we had written this post.  So then when you tell us we only wrote one post last week, we’d go “Nah uh, because we wrote two, one was just written retroactively from this week!”  And then who would look foolish?  Not us, because we’re the one bending space and time.

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We’re just asking questions that support our hatred of you: Part 2

May 3, 2011

So as we last left off, Ninja Vicki got a rumor going around town that her nemesis Samurai Cathy has vestigial tail and was born to wolves.  And now Samurai Cathy is in the weird spot of trying to assert that she was indeed born to human parents. But ninjas are treacherous and Vicki has wormed the seeds of doubt into the public regarding Cathy’s humanity.

“Ms. Samurai Cathy, why are you withholding the truth from the people?”  says a man in the crowd with a tape recorder.

Samurai Cathy gives him a quizzical look.  “And you are?”

“I’m from the New York Times,” says the man.  “We’re doing a story on the controversy of a potential wolf-woman living among us and  hiding her vestigial tail.”

“There is no story, it’s just a stupid untrue rumor made up by a horrible unlovable shell of a woman,”  says Samurai Cathy, glaring at Ninja Vicki.

“We’re the press, our job isn’t to report on what is true,”  says the New York Times reporter.  “Our job is to report on what people are talking about, regardless of whether it has any basis in truth or reality.”

“That is paint-drinkingly retarded… and death by my hand would be more of an honor than you deserve, you soulless media prostitute,”  says Samurai Cathy.

“Yes, we love our paint,”  says the reporter. “But how do you respond to a recent poll stating that 45 percent of people believe that you are indeed a wolfen-beast woman?”

Samurai Cathy flinches out of surprise.  “How did you get a poll done so fast?”

“She won’t answer the questions out of fear that her wolfish tendencies will come out,”  Ninja Vicki interjects.  “People have told me they have evidence that Samurai Cathy eats sheep at night.”

“I believe those anonymous people!”  says Sean Wheatley.

“Yes, they support the beliefs I already hold,”  says Lucia Wheatley.

“Victoria, why are you doing this?”  Samurai Cathy says, rubbing the stupidity migraine from her forehead.  “This whole vestigial tail and wolf-parentage rumor-mongering is a new level in petty dumbness, even for you.”

“Why am I doing this?”  Ninja Vicki says, sounding offended.  “Because I hate you!  I hate, hate, hate you!  And you have that much hate for someone, anything you do to them is justified.  That is how the world works.”

“No, that is why the world doesn’t work,”  Samurai Cathy says.  “That’s why there’s genocide in countries.  That’s why sociopaths easily climb to the top ranks of business and government, ruining everything for everyone else.  That’s why anyone went to see that awful Atlas Shrugged movie.”

“Hey, alluding that I saw Atlas Shrugged is high slander and over the line!”  says Ninja Vicki.  “This is just what wolf-women do when they can’t argue the facts.  They try to malign your character with vicious, unfounded lies about your movie-watching habits.”

“Why can’t you just release your birth certificate so the public can know whether you were born to wolves or not?”  says the New York Times reporter.

“Because none of this is about who I was born to,” says Samurai Cathy.  “It’s about Victoria hating me with every fiber of her cold black heart.  Why should I waste my time proving I wasn’t born to wolves when after I do she’s just going to make up other bullshit like I’m a communist Islamic radical suicide bomber or that my vagina has teeth and feeds on neighborhood puppies.  It will never end because all this about is how Victoria hates me.”

“So you’re a communist Islamic radical suicide bomber whose vagina eats puppies?”  says the reporter.

“That’s the worst thing ever!”  says Sean Wheatley.  “Even Hitler wasn’t a communist.”

“Nor did he have a vagina that ate puppies!”  says Lucia Wheatley.  “Why are you allowed to live amongst us?”

“Oh just forget it!”  Samurai Cathy yells before storming away with Mikka running to catch up to her.  Ninja Vicki takes this opportunity to steal Cathy’s unfinished french fries from lunch, her ninja mask unable to hide the smug look underneath.

“Yeah, winning, that’s me,”  Ninja Vicki says to herself.  “Winning all over the place… all over your samurai face, bitchcakes.”

Little does Ninja Vicki realize as she basks in the giddy glow of victory that the war isn’t over…

To be continued…

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Let the Awkward One In

April 25, 2011

“I think I figured out one of the reasons why I’m socially awkward,”  I say.

“Is it because you’ve spent the last five years lost in your own fantasy world of writing a blog about a ninja chick, a Wiccan pimp, and superheroine whose legs don’t work?”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.

“No…”  I say.  “It’s because of that rule vampires have where they can’t enter your house unless you invite them in.”

“So your social awkwardness is based on your thirst for the blood of the living?”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.

“No, it’s based on the fact that I don’t feel socially comfortable unless some sort of invitation is offered to me,”  I say.  “I need some sort of outside prompt, whether overt or subtle, before I can shed that wallflower mentality.”

Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat purrs contemplatively.  “Interesting… especially since once people know you then you feel free to let loose with all the crazy, inappropriate stuff running around in your head.”

“Yeah, like I need clearance from the tower before my crazy plane can land and unload its cargo,”  I say.

“You have two social speeds: awkwardly shy at the low end of the knob, and warp speed eccentric with no filter on the high end,”  says Bernie.  “And the outside social invitation prompt is sort of like that person signing a waiver to allow you to crank it from 1 to 10, seeing how there aren’t any midway settings on your dial.”

“I think it’s also that I have personal boundaries and I see my potential social trespassing as an invitation to invade my boundaries,”  I say.  “So I hang back as if to not provoke someone to attempt a breach of my boundaries.”

“You have spent way too much time amongst cats,”  says Bernie.  “We have our boundaries, especially with people we don’t know, but after we’re cool with you we’re jumping up on your chest while you’re laying on the couch and sticking our asses in your face.”

“Or I’m overcompensating for social anxiety by vacillating between two extremes: withdrawn shyness and opening Pandora’s Box of impulsive behavior,”  I say.

“It could be worse,”  says Bernie.  “You could be boring.”

At that seems like the worse sin of all, socially speaking: to not be interesting.  And perhaps the invitation (whether illicit or explicit) is a validation along the lines of “you’re interesting enough to join.”  And once that validation is made the fear of not being interesting fades and the full beast can come out.

Or it could be that I’m just bullshitting myself for being an inconsistent, fearful, self-loathing, socially-inept twat who wouldn’t know how to cultivate personal relationships even if  given a magical textbook on the topic with all the answers jotted down in the margins by the last pathetic soul to own the tome.

“Shut the fuck up and pick up the sparkly stick,”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat, swatting me in the ankle with his paw.   “Your navel-gazing is interfering with my schedule.  I’ve got a nap in a cardboard box slated for 3pm, right after some sparkly stick playtime.”

It’s not that cats don’t ponder these crises of self, it’s that they’ve evolved beyond them.

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I can’t lie if I don’t care what the truth is

April 12, 2011

As the blog of wild fabrications and outright lies, we have a keen interest in the topic of lying, and its second cousin bullshitting.  Yes, there is a difference, as demonstrated in Harry G. Frankfurt’s essay (later printed as a tiny book) “On Bullshit.”  In short, liars know what the truth is, bullshitters don’t know and don’t care.

Anyway, we’ve found a great specimen of lying bullshit in the recent government shutdown debate when Republican Senator John Kyl claimed that 90 percent of what Planned Parenthood does is abortion (the reality is that abortion is only 3 percent of what they do).  Now when confronted with this fact by CNN, the senator’s office replied with this exquisite piece of bullshit:

HOLMES: We did call his office trying to ask what he was talking about there. And I just want to give it you verbatim here. It says, ‘his remark was not intended to be a factual statement, but rather to illustrate that Planned Parenthood, a organization that receives millions of dollars in taxpayer funding, does subsidize abortions.’

We haven’t come across such an exquisite sample of bullshit like that since four years ago when Homeland Security Advisor Frances Townsend told us with a straight face that “failure is a success that hasn’t occurred yet.”  We had fun with that bullshit back then so you know we’re going to have a frickin’ Mardi Gras with this “not intended to be a factual statement” bullshit.

“When I said that I had sex with Kylie Minogue , that wasn’t intended to be a factual statement,”  I say.  “But rather it was to illustrate that I have had sex with women before.”

“When I said to the bank that I could make my car payments, that wasn’t intended to be a factual statement,”  says Mikka.  “But rather it was to illustrate how much I like driving.”

“Nothing I say to you humans should be interpreted as a factual statement,”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “The unevolved human race doesn’t deserve to be spoken to truthfully by your genetic superiors.  You don’t have the necessary brain power to understand cat truth.”

“When I tell one of my hookers that she’d better have my money or I will witchslap the taste out of her mouth, that IS intended as a factual statement,”  says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “But when I tell her I will turn her into a marmot, however, that’s just to illustrate how much trouble she’s going to be in if I don’t get my ends.”

“When I told that woman at the coffee shop poetry jam that I too liked American Idol, that wasn’t intended to be a factual statement,”  says Tina the Lesbian.  “But rather it was to illustrate how I was willing to overlook her horrid taste in television so that I wouldn’t go home alone that night.”

“Dear drunk girl I hooked up with at the club after last call: when I said I loved you, that wasn’t intended to be a factual statement,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “But rather it was to illustrate that I wanted to get you back to my apartment, put a bridle on you, and ride your ass until the sun comes up.  Glad you won’t remember this.  Sincerely, Anonymous Doug.”

“When I tell people that Samurai Cathy is a dirty syphilitic whore, I don’t give a shit if it’s a factual statement or not,”  says Ninja Vicki.  “Because I want people to hate her, and I want her to die.”

“When I tell people that Ninja Vicki is an emotionally-crippled and broken woman incapable of allowing herself to feel love, that isn’t intended to be a factual statement,”  says Samurai Cathy.  “But damned if she doesn’t keep proving me right every single day.”

Concordantly, everything you read on Renal Failure isn’t intended to be a factual statement either, but it’s all true anyway.  Especially the lies.

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