Archive for the ‘Avonia the Wiccan Pimp’ Category


Maybe now we’ll get those Black Panther Lesbian FEMA Death Camps

November 8, 2012

So Barack Obama got reelected as President of the United States over the guy who looks like a taller version of my Uncle Kevin (something that led to a lot of confusion when watching the news drunk) and everything is right in the universe.  Or the universe is going to burn and implode.  That all depends on your collection of Facebook friends (one of mine has already made a doom and gloom prediction for the end of 2012, which I have dutifully recorded and will be checking back on at the appropriate time to see if her prognostication abilities have improved since she boastfully predicted to me back in 2003 that they’d find WMD’s in Iraq and that George W. Bush would go down at the greatest president of all time.  This is why I do my damnest to avoid making predictions).

Here at the Failure, our crew is doing all right.  There’s a sense of ease in the air.

Tag Larkin once again has won over Mitt Romney’s son Tagg Romney, reminding the universe that there can be only one Tag.  Oh, you didn’t know that Tagg Romney?  Obviously you don’t read Renal Failure, otherwise you could have saved your inheritance money from getting blown on yet another failed campaign by your dad.  Tag Larkin never loses!

Tina the Lesbian is pleased that Todd “legitimate rape” Akin and Richard “God intended for you to be raped” Mourdock lost their Senate races.  But professional crazyperson Michele Bachmann still kept her Congressional seat, setting the standard that American will vote for batshit nutballs as long as they don’t say a lot of stupid shit about rape.

Samurai Cathy has been spending the post-election day writing letters to the pundits who not just erroneously predicted Mitt Romney would win but predicted he would win by an egregiously large margins to atone for being shitty at their jobs by slicing off their pinky fingers on national television.  Luckily for her, Mikka persuaded her not to mail a knife with each letter in order to keep the Homeland Security people from busting down the door to her studio apartment.  George Will may be for small government, but we’re pretty sure he’d be dialing the FBI faster than you could say National Review if someone mailed him cutlery and a request that he use it on himself.

Note: Professional Money-Crablouse Jim Cramer predicted a ridiculously large Obama victory, 440-98, but we’re pretty sure he was hopped up on Mad Money coke when he made that prediction. We’ve already asked him years ago to commit ritual suicide for his sins against humanity.

Ninja Vicki hopes that all her donations to Obama during the campaign (aka. stuff she stole from other people, because she’s a ninja) will pay off in the form of her being chosen to participate in The Great Winnowing – when those who came out to support Mitt Romney are systematically picked off by order of the President to set the stage for Black Power Socialist Redistribution Fest 2014.  Sure, Ninja Vicki heard about these ideas from local frightened couple Sean and Lucia Wheatley, who heard it from the Formerly-Screaming-Now-Hysterically-Weeping Head on the Radio, and it probably won’t happen, but Ninja Vicki still holds out hope that she will get a chance to hunt down Meat Loaf.  Not because he supported Romney, but for having recorded “Paradise By The Dashboard Lights” which ruins every karaoke night she’s ever been to.

Avonia the Wiccan Pimp is still pissed off that evangelical leader Billy Graham had any reference to Mormonism as a cult removed from his organization’s website in order to square his support for Mitt Romney against Barack Obama. Now that Romney lost, Avonia’s waiting for Mormonism to be assigned cult status again.  Avonia’s also waiting for the day when a Republican Wiccan runs for president against a black guy so all the evangelicals who’ve been calling her a Satan worshipper for all these years have to kiss Wiccan ass.  She knows this day will never come, but sometimes you have to give yourself to flights of extreme fantasy – which is how Peggy Noonan lives every minute of her life.  Her election prediction was so mired in delirious, sticky fantasy all it was missing was a dragon fucking a unicorn while Hobbits watched while furiously masturbating.

Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat is not allowed to vote, because he is a cat.  So Bernie is trying to lobby all those billionaires who wasted their money on SuperPACs that blew obscene millions of ducats on failed Republican campaigns to steer their remaining financial support toward his campaign to get America to give cats the right to vote.  As nature’s sociopaths, cats would be very likely to vote Republican, or at least that what cats want Republicans to think.  Then election day comes and cats go 74-23 toward the Democratic candidate, revealing that it was all a clever asshole feline ruse, concocted by Bernie to make a shitload of money and allow cats to run for political office. Sure, cats will nuzzle up to you for ear scratches and cuddles, but when you die in the house, they’re going to fucking eat you.

Anonymous Doug laments that CT Republican candidate Linda McMahon (wife of World Wrestling Entertainment’s Vince McMahon) has now lost two straight elections for Senate, blowing $93 million dollars of her own money over the 2010 and 2012 campaigns. He does not lament because she lost, but because that money could have easily been better used on making WWE wrestling better. Maybe hire some better wrestler than the ones currently in the Divas division.  Maybe hire some writers who could craft an actual compelling storyline for a wrestling feud instead of the dreck currently passing for wrestling programming. Perhaps maybe kinda sorta use that money to get wrestlers some decent health care benefits in a profession that leaves its hardest workers crippled instead of blowing almost 100 million in the cause of vanity.

But always remember, no matter what, crazy never dies and peak asshole is a myth.


Voters like his position on God arranging your sexual assault

October 29, 2012

If you haven’t been a regular Renal Failure reader, you may have dumbfounded by the recent debate comments by Republican Senate candidate Richard Mourdock regarding rape, pregnancy, and God’s will.

“The only exception I have to have an abortion is in the case of the life of the mother,” said Mourdock, the Tea Party-backed state treasurer. “I struggled with it myself for a long time, but I came to realize life is that gift from God. I think that even when life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something that God intended to happen.”

But if you have been a regular Renal reader, you’d know that not only is this is a common occurrence, it’s now an actual political platform, as seen with current candidate Todd Akin’s “legitimate rape” comment (and some idiot reporter’s defense of said statement), Ron Paul’s “honest rape” comment during the primaries, and Sharron Angle’s failed campaign in 2010 where the notion of God planning for you to be raped first appeared (as well as making lemonade out of lemons when you get raped). So really, Mourdock isn’t bringing anything new table, until he came out with this gem after the debate

“I spoke from my heart. For speaking from my heart, for speaking from the deepest level of my faith, I cannot apologize,” he said. “I would be less than faithful to my faith if I said anything other than life is precious, I believe it is a gift from God. I believe that God would never want anyone harmed, sexually abused, raped. I believe it’s wrong when people want to take what I said and twist it. And if in any way people came away with the wrong meaning, then for that I do apologize.”

And there it is, the beautiful merging of two pillars of bullshit: God has a plan to have you raped and the “heart” defense (it’s not what you say, it’s what’s in your heart).  We’ve been waiting for that marriage of bullshit to occur for a while and now it’s finally here.  And in combination with the classic “I’m sorry that you were offended” non-apology, it’s like bullshit Christmas.

“I wonder if this Mourdock guy studied it out before he decided to tell people God has a plan that may involve you being raped,” says Ninja Vicki, referring to the other bullshit phrase “study it out” we’ve come across, which denotes you haven’t done any studying whatsoever.  “He said he struggled with it but that’s not quite as douchey as studying it out.”

“I like seeing all the Republicans who had been supporting Mourdock have to balance out their wishes that he still wins his Senate race while at the same time looking like they’re not standing with a guy who tells people God planned on you being raped,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “It’s a delicate waltz of bullshitting that I’d enjoy a lot more if it didn’t involve people who held high political office, but it’s the only venue that would invoke such high levels of bullshittery.”

“Like Todd Akin before him, Mourdock is saying the secret shit out loud,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “For some reason, they’re feeling either comfortable or confident that these things that  a sub-section of pro-life people only tell other pro-life people about should have a much wider audience.  There’s a reason what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, or what happens in the coven stays in the coven.”

“I’d like to know how we are to know what things are God’s intention and what things did God not intend to happen,” says Samurai Cathy.  “Hurricanes?  Your allergies to gluten?  The day when I lost my toe in a sword sparring session?  You shouldn’t be ambiguous if you’re omnipotent.”

“They need to change that prayer they teach kids to say before the go to bed,” says Mikka.  “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord that he doesn’t see fit that I should be gang-raped in an van. And if I get pregnant, please don’t let me live in a state where rapists have legal rights regarding their rape babies.”

“So life is a gift from God, but sometimes it is delivered via rape,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “What I think this Mourdock guy is trying to convey is that God bought you a present off but it’s being delivered to you in a rape-shaped box.  But that’s not God’s fault. How he could he know that choosing Express 2-Day Delivery means you get raped? Oh wait, he’s God!”

“So God doesn’t necessarily WANT you to get raped, but your pregnancy from your rape is a precious gift from God, which wouldn’t have occurred unless you had been raped…”  says Anonymous Doug.  “Which church does this guy go to?  Pentecostal? Baptist? Joel Osteen Prosperity Jesus?  Which of these Protestant faiths is completely doing away with the rules of cause and effect because I want in on that craziness.”

There has to be some internal polling report that claims that saying God intended for you to be raped is an favorable position to be taken with voters, because it wouldn’t show up this often in elections unless there bit of data saying that it’s a good idea to say it out loud for everyone to hear, which says more for the electorate than it does the candidate.


You’re don’t know how lucky you are to have my husband looking out for himself

September 23, 2012

Here at the Failure, we’ve come to reconsider what the American Dream – the oldest vague and pointless buzzword in our country’s short history – really means today in the broadest sense of the term.  For example, in a narrow sense of time and people  regarding  the American Dream, it once meant not starving to death in Ireland.  That’s not necessarily the case today – though who knows where Ireland’s current economic problems will lead to.

Today, the American Dream is having “Fuck You” Money , which is where you have so much money you can pretty much say “fuck you” to everyone because of the size of your total wealth.  Because when you have “fuck you” money, you get to say shit like Ann Romney says to people while trying to make people like her husband enough to make him president.

During an interview early this evening with Radio Iowa, Mrs. Romney directly addressed her fellow Republicans who’ve criticized her husband.

“Stop it. This is hard. You want to try it? Get in the ring,” she said. “This is hard and, you know, it’s an important thing that we’re doing right now and it’s an important election and it is time for all Americans to realize how significant this election is and how lucky we are to have someone with Mitt’s qualifications and experience and know-how to be able to have the opportunity to run this country.”

“Yeah, you don’t know how hard it is to be rich and want to be the most powerful man in the world,” says Tina the Lesbian. “It’s much harder than figuring out poor people problems, like whether to pay for having heat in your home or for those prescription pills that keep your heart pumping blood.”

“I see Ann Romney is using the Mommie Dearest campaign strategy,” says Ninja Vicki. “Particularly the scene where Joan Crawford yells at her daughter ‘Why can’t you give me the respect that I’m entitled to? Why can’t you treat me like I would be treated by any stranger on the street?’ and her daughter (now played by the American electorate) replies ‘Because I am NOT one of your fans!’ I expect Ann Romney to strangle someone or hack down an orange tree with an axe in the next month or so.”

Or not, because Ann Romney canceled interviews with reporters after her “No wire hangers” moment with the press.

“So when Mitt Romney said his campaign only uses his wife sparingly because they don’t want people to get tired of her, it was really a nicer way of saying that the less they use her the less likely she is to pitch a self-entitled queen shit-fit,” says Mikka.  “Hey lady, until your husband is accused every day on an hourly basis of being a secret Kenyan communist Muslim black-power terrorist who will round up all the white people into FEMA-sponsored death camps, you’re nowhere close to knowing what hard is.”

“She’s talking like a crooked pimp talks to his ho’s,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “Hey, you know how lucky you are to have me looking out for you?  To have me selling your ass on the street, taking all of your money, and keeping you hooked on heroin?  I am doing all this for you, you selfish bitch, and I will slap the inconsiderateness out of your mouth if you look at me sideaways again!  Now vote for Mitt Romney!”

The concept of Ann Romney as a pimp makes a lot more sense than it really should.  For one, pimping ain’t easy.  In fact, it’s very hard.  Also, Ann Romney’s already shown the back of her hand to women voters in a campaign stop earlier in September

“Women, you need to wake up,” she urged them. “Women have to ask themselves who’s going to have and be there for you. I can promise you, I know, that Mitt will be there for you. He will stand up for you, he will hear your voices.”

Then there was her message to Latino voters at the end of August

Hispanics are an important voting bloc, especially in this battleground state. Romney said she’s speaking out to make “sure that those coalitions,” referring to women and Hispanic voters, “that would naturally be voting for another party wake up and say, You’d better really look at the issues this time.”

“You’d better really look at your future and figure out who’s going to be the guy that’s going to make it better for you and your children, and there is only one answer,” Mrs. Romney said, giving a harsher pitch than we usually hear from the woman who wants to be the next first lady.

“When you tell someone to wake up when they’re not sleeping, you’re being a dick,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “No one has ever been converted to  a point of view by being told to ‘wake up.’  You might as well just call them a fucktarded dumbass and save yourself the trouble of being polite and bothering to bring them over to your way of thinking.”

“That sounds like the worst pick-up line ever,” says Anonymous Doug.  “Hey, baby, do you want to go out?  No?  Hey, missy, you’d better really look at your future and figure out who’s going to be the guy that’s going to make it better for you and your children, and there is only one answer – me!  Now get in my car – we’re going to Applebee’s!”

The strange thing about when Ann Romney tries to convince people to vote for her husband is that she doesn’t say exactly why you should do so or what specifically he would do as president, only that you should just take her word for it that he’s going to do a good job.  And that sort of “Just do what I say and shut up” attitude comes from having “Fuck You” money.  It’s what makes having “Fuck You” money so appealing, and thus it’s what makes “Fuck you” money the new American Dream.

What should the American Dream be other than having “fuck you” money?  How about being Tag Larkin?  Sure, you can never be Tag Larkin, but that’s what dreams are for.


Get off of my lawn, chair!

August 31, 2012

I’ve always believed political party conventions are horrid occasions of inflated importance and rank wankery, but after seeing Clint Eastwood on stage talking to an empty chair for almost ten minutes at the Republican National Convention I’ve come to the conclusion that these ridiculous events wanked themselves so hard that they have become self-aware and are now just fucking with us.

“My grandpa used to talk to an empty chair too,” says Ninja Vicki.  “No one applauded him, and the nurses had to keep him away from sharp objects.”

“Was Clint Eastwood doing a Bob Newhart bit?”  says Tina the Lesbian.  “Not everyone can pull off that charmingly-awkward Newhart one-way conversational cadence.  And if you’ve been playing bad-ass tough guy characters for the past 60 odd years, you really can’t pull it off.”

“John McCain should have done this in 2008,” says Mikka.  “It would have made his choice of Sarah Palin for Vice President a lot easier to understand if he accepted his party’s nomination by talking to furniture.”

Side note: McCain/Chaise Lounge would have been a strong Presidential ticket.

“I’m going to assume this routine was all Mr. Eastwood’s idea,” says Anonymous Doug.  “Are you going tell Clint Eastwood what he can do on stage?  Are you going to dare edit him?  ‘Excuse me Mr. Eastwood, we don’t think you should use your time to talk to an imaginary Barack Obama in a chair.’  Go on, tell him that and see what he does to you.  He’ll probably cockslap you.”

“I don’t think Clint Eastwood’s strengths as a performer lay in his improv ability,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “I think he needs the structure that a solid script provides or else you get… old guy rambling at an empty chair.”

“If you’re going to have someone give a speech where they”re talking to an inanimate object, get Tom Hanks because he did that shit well in that movie where he was alone on that island,” says Bernie the Half Cyborg Cat.  “At least he’s young.  An old man being angry at furniture?  That’s what the Republican Party thought would be a good thing to have as a defining image of their convention?  Fucking hell…”

“Somewhere a Democratic consultant is thinking of a way to top that at their convention,” says Samurai Cathy.  “I’m not sure how.  Maybe they roll Kirk Douglas out to read chapters of Fifty Shades of Grey to the audience.”

Tag Larkin did not care for Clint Eastwood’s speech because when chairs talk back to Tag Larkin he hurls them through windows.  Even when they’re not being talkative, chairs still get thrown by Tag Larkin because Tag Larkin is forcing the evolution of chairs by getting them used to being airborne.


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.


Grandma saw this coming a mile away, but Mom wouldn’t believe her

June 24, 2012

The Night Dad Went to Jail… an exponentially better book than 50 Shades of Grey or Twilight…

“I don’t think this book addresses what we think it does,” I say while we get a fresh round of formaldehyde shooters, because something has to preserve our dead souls and it might as well taste like tequila too.

“Yeah, it seems to be more about the aftermath of the night Dad went to jail,” says Anonymous Doug, who doesn’t know who his dad is but he probably did some time in the joint.  “It doesn’t deal with the root  issues of why your Dad beat a man unconscious with a broken pool cue in the first place.”

“Yeah, where’s the book where a youngster has to come to terms with the sight of police officers tasering a drunken, belligerent daddy before beating him with nightsticks, handcuffing him, and throwing him in the back of a squad car?”  says Mikka.  “I think that book would be titled ‘Why Mommy Decided to Press Charges This Time.'”

“That little bunny’s dad on the cover, in that picture, he looks like the sort of ass who would do something to get sent to jail,” says Ninja Vicki.  “I’ m thinking at no point in the book’s 24 pages does the little bunny say something like ‘Daddy always had a temper’ or ‘Daddy lived a life of  jealous frustration, turning that rage outward at whoever was nearby.'”

“In these hard economic times, Dad might be going to jail for less violent offenses, like embezzlement or insurance fraud,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “Dad loses his job at wherever anthropomorphic rabbits work, the bank’s on his ass about the mortgage on their hole in the ground, so maybe Dad forges a few checks or skims donations from some organization he volunteers at.  Eventually it catches up to him.”

“Or maybe Dad’s selling crystal meth out of the basement,” says Samurai Cathy.  “The money’s good so mom turns a blind eye, and you keep getting new video games so you don’t ask any questions.  Then the illusion of your happy home life is shattered by a SWAT team busting down your doors, shooting your dog, and forcing you to lie face down on the carpet with your hands behind your back.’

“Considering America has the most people incarcerated in the world, I’m surprised this book isn’t given out in maternity wards,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “Congratulations, it’s a boy. Here’s some tips on breast feeding and a complimentary book to help your child cope with the inevitability that his father will go to prison at some point in his development.”

“I feel relieved that such a book exists to help children during this difficult time, but at the same time I feel disturbed that there’s a pressing necessity for its existence,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “Like those coloring books about how not to get molested by your priest.  We’re treating the symptoms of the disease instead of its cause.”

Whatever the case, this has convinced me to get a library card.


My heart thinks you’re really gullible

May 18, 2012

So here’s this story about a teacher in Kansas being a dumb-ass on Facebook and posting a message about homosexuality being… well, I think he can put it best in his own words, in bite-sized chunks for us to provide the proper derision:

“All this talk in the news about gay marriage recently has finally driven me to write. Gay marriage is wrong because homosexuality is wrong. The Bible clearly states it is sin.”

“I keep thinking if God really thought homosexuality was a sin, he would have put it on the Ten Commandments,” says Ninja Vicki.  “The Lord certainly could have put ‘Thou shalt not put it in the pooper’ on the tablets if this was such a big deal. He could have made it fit, he’s God, he can chose a smaller font.”

“Now I do not claim it to be a sin any worse than other sins. It ranks in God’s eyes the same as murder, lying, stealing, or cheating.”

“The Almighty has an interesting tier system when it comes to sin classification,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “Apparently everything’s been upgraded from venial sin level to mortal hell-bound sin status.  Sin inflation is out of control.”

His standards are perfect and ALL have sinned and fallen short of His glory. Sin is sin and we all deserve hell.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with a deity behaving like my mother-in-law,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “Nothing’s ever good enough for her… which is why the last four family gatherings have almost ended in fistfights.”

Only those who accept Christ as Lord and daily with the help of the Spirit do their best to turn from sin will enter the Kingdom of Heaven. There aren’t multiple ways to get to Heaven. There is one. To many this may seem close minded and antagonistic, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

“I think I said something similar to this on my last date,” says Anonymous Doug.  “I said to this chick, “Look, you’re either giving me a blow job or you’re walking home.  There aren’t multiple ways to get me to drive you home, there’s one. This may seem close-minded and antagonistic, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Folks I am willing to admit that my depravity is just as great as anyone else’s, and without Christ I’d be destined for hell, if not for the undeserved grace of God.

“I seriously doubt your depravity approaches the depths to which I’ve plunged,” says Anonymous Doug with a laugh. “Seriously doubt.”

“I’m not fond of that ‘if not for the undeserved grace of God’ part,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “It makes God sound like an abusive husband, and I really don’t like picturing any deity sitting on a couch with a wifebeater t-shirt on and a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in hand.”

“I’m not condemning gay marriage because I hate gay people. I am doing it because those who embrace it will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven. And I desire that for no one.”

“But you just told us we all deserve hell,” says Ninja Vicki.  “Conversely, that means going to heaven is getting something we don’t deserve.  Are we equating gaining access to paradise with insurance fraud?  Do we have to stand before St. Peter at the pearly gates with a neck brace and a faked limp to get in?”

“Maybe you don’t hate gay people in the usual terms of hate, but you certainly think of us as lesser-people,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “You’ve already equated being gay with being a murderer or a thief.  When you assume someone as hellbound for something inherent in their being, you’ve already given someone a lower rank on your leaderboard of people. I don’t know if that qualifies as hate, but it certainly qualifies you as an asshole.”

Now while my colleagues dug into this teacher’s ill-conceived Facebook post, I took notice of his paltry defense.

“I wrote what I wrote for my Facebook friends who understand my heart and my intent,” Conkling told the Hutchinson News. “I understand that there were some folks who didn’t understand my heart, and while that’s sad, it is what it is.”

This caught my attention because I remembered someone else using the “heart” defense… Rick Santorum’s press lackey Alice Stewart who when confronted by a Dutch reporter about her’s boss’s lying about euthanasia practices in Holland sputtered out in impotent defense “A lot of these things is a matter of what’s in his heart.”   I’m starting to get the feeling that “the heart” is some sort of code, something along the lines of “Just ignore the insipidly batshit stupid things I say and accept the at-odds-with-reality overly positive image of myself that I want you to have of me.”  It’s like Christianity’s way of arguing like the Black Knight in Monty Python.  Sure, he may look like he’s got no arms, but in his heart he’s got two healthy limbs ready to have at you.  I call it Christianity’s way because I haven’t seen anyone in Judaism, Islam. Hinduism, or Wicca invoke a “heart” argument yet.

If you intend one thing but end up doing something else, you fucked up.  Own up to it and try to do better next time.  Don’t blame your cock-up on people not having the mystical cognitive powers to divine what you think you truly are, especially because there are very few people who truly are who they think they are.  There’s what you want to be, and want you do, and there’s a constant discrepancy between the two.  How you manage that gulf is a factor on whether or not you’re an asshole douchenozzle.

Remember: the heart is great at pumping blood, but  it reasons very poorly.


Shut off your brain and take off your pants

April 19, 2012

If I had a time machine, I’d want to go find the person who created pornography. Not to tell him thanks or shake his hand because he probably won’t speak my language and will find my clothing from the future threatening and frightening. I just want to witness how he came to the conclusion that it would be awesome to have some sort of visual record of people fucking so we can enjoy it at our convenience.

NOTE: Yes, I’m presuming the creator of pornography is male, because I’m seeing pornography being created as the solution to a problem, that problem being how to witness sexual acts  and hot pieces of ass when no one’s around.  Just like how men invented weapons out of the problem of how to kill people more better-like.

The above only tangentially leads into this article I read about porn that states that when you watch porn – and we’re talking the explicit stuff, not that soft-core bullshit – part of your brain shuts down.  Apparently when watching graphic sexual acts, the part of your brain that handles visual stimuli goes for a little coffee break.

To Holstege, those results suggest that the brain is focusing on sexual arousal as more important than visual processing during these erotic films.

“You have to realize that the brain wants to spare as much energy as possible, so if some part of the brain is not necessary at a high level of functioning, it immediately goes down,” Holstege said.

“Then my brain must be really lazy as fuck because it keeps telling me it’s a good idea to go porn-hunting on the Internet,” I say. “It keeps saying ‘Hey, you’re not doing anything important, have yourself a good wank,’ and sometimes it’s a very compelling case.”

“Some activities you do just so you can shut your brain off for a while,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “Some people do it with reality TV, other people need some hot fuck action.  Whatever works.”

“There’s the old joke about how there’s only enough blood in the body to properly work your brain or your genitals,” says Mikka.  “And now science is telling me that might be right?  Awesome.”

“The less attention your brain spends on a porno, the better off you are,” says Bernie the Half Cyborg Cat.  “You don’t want to be cognizant of plot holes or continuity errors when you’re just trying to get yourself off.”

The article also has this cool little nugget…

The brain can either be anxious or aroused (or neither), Holstege said, but not both. During orgasm, he has found, activity in brain regions associated with anxiety plummets. This phenomenon may explain why women with low levels of sexual desire often have high levels of anxiety, Holstege said.

“So wanking off is just as good as Zoloft?”  says Ninja Vicki.  “Too bad that does nothing for my pathological urge to steal stuff. I can steal pills from your medicine cabinet. I can’t steal your wanking.  Well, maybe your spank bank of magazines, or your porno tapes, or your laptop.  But wanking always finds a way.”

“One good orgasm and all is right with the world,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “You don’t care about anything after that.  I’m surprised more parts of your brain don’t switch off after an orgasm, like it goes into low power sleep mode or something.

This last quote is notable…

“If you want to have sex, as a man, you need to produce a safe situation for the woman,” Holstege said. “That is what you want, that is the most important thing.”

“This guy hasn’t seen my bedroom,” says Anonymous Doug.  “Ropes, handcuffs, shackles, tape, ballgags, bridles, chains, saddles, that harness hanging above the bed… it’s the most unsafe-looking place on Earth.  And some chicks get off on that.”

“I don’t make love until I’ve made a full inspection of the room,” says Samurai Cathy.  “Only after the area is secured will allow my lover to get to second base, which will then allow me to frisk him for hidden weapons before we either go all the way or I stab him with my secondary knife for his treachery. Luckily, Mikka is not a treacherous bastard, so he lives when we make love.”

So porn gives the brain a much-needed break, keeping it from taxing itself too much from trying to recognize threats and figuring shit out.  Because there ain’t nothing to figure out when you see a girl taking it in the ass while sucking off another guy. That’s as simple as it gets for your brain.


If I hold your hand, I’m halfway to getting a handjob and anal

April 13, 2012

We almost forgot that April is Confederate History Month, a glorious month in which certain southern states of the Union celebrate that one time 160 years ago when they decided not to be American anymore rather than stop owning black people. It’s like sticking your genitals in a bear trap, having the ripped from your body, and then throwing a party every year proclaiming that you’re going to get new genitals some day and when you do they’re going to right back in that bear trap to show it what’s what.  To us fast-talking Yankee bastards, it reminds us to mock the South.

Now to be fair, Tennessee does not celebrate Confederate History Month, but they were still part of the Confederacy and still do some pants-on-head retarded shit, like bring up a bill in their Senate that updates their abstinence-only sexual education law that prohibits teachers from discussing “gateway sexual activities” such as “holding hands.”

Ah… just when I think there’s nothing in the news to skewer, the South never fails verify my abysmal opinion of it. It’s Happy Hour at the Failure, and we’ve got half-off specials on ridicule and snark.

“I don’t remember holding hands being talked about in my sex ed class,” says Anonymous Doug.  “I remember the whole penis goes into the vagina and ejaculates part, but apparently they’re not that far advanced in Tennessee to get to that point.  That knowledge only gets unlocked by the minister presiding over your wedding.”

“Do you know what’s really a gateway sexual activity?  Having genitals,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “Either seal up your cooch or lop off your twig and berries because as long as you have those, the gate’s always open.”

“Well, what are fingers but bony penises, right?”  says Mikka.  “The symbolism is there if you just look hard enough, and breathe in a lot of ammonia fumes in a small enclosed space.”

“I would think zealous repression of sexual knowledge is more of a gateway sexual activity than holding hands or kissing,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “All this is going to do is eliminate foreplay and have teens go straight for awkward, unlubricated penetration.”

“I want to see what else is a gateway sexual activity according to these people,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “Skirts above the knee?  Skinny jeans? Tetris?  We need to know what innocuous behavior will trigger a teen fuckfest according to the greatest minds the Volunteer State could assemble!”

“In Saudi Arabia, men holding hands in a sign of friendship and respect,” says Ninja Vicki.  “But in Tennessee it’s a sign that sexual passion is brewing.  How the hell are the Saudis more reasonable than Americans on this?”

Samurai Cathy found this passage interesting…

According to a 2009 Youth Risk Behavior Study, 61 percent of Memphis City high school students and 27 percent of middle school students have had sex.  That’s higher than the national average.

“So they already have abstinence-only education, their teen sex rate is still higher than average, and their answer to this problem is to reduce what little their teens can be taught about anything peripheral of sex?” says Samurai Cathy.  “So if this doesn’t work, what’s next?  Not telling children how to go to the bathroom for fear they will touch their own genitals?”

I have no doubt there are people in non-Confederate states here in the north that think that this would be a good idea, but the difference is that it’s harder to make that idiotic notion into law up here.  Not impossible, mind you (in fact it’s still quite probable), but you have to put a little more effort to turn lunacy into legislation outside of Dixie. We can’t rid the world of stupidity but could we at least do a better job of not letting stupidity gain the means to inflict itself on a large scale?

EXTRA SPECIAL NOTE: We noticed that we got over 200 hits on Wednesday of this week because Rick Santorum dropped out of the Presidential race because  any time Santorum is big in the news we get a lot of hits because of this picture we posted about five years ago commemorating the time he lost his Senate seat by a landslide and dragged his unwilling family on stage to be the backdrop for his concession speech.

Now that he quit trying to be president, we’re probably not going to see those Santorum traffic spikes anymore, but that’s a small price to pay for knowing that people still find it unpalatable for him to hold political office.  It’s a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.


This hoodie attracts bullets

March 23, 2012

We’ve been keeping a close eye on the Trayvon Martin killing in Florida, in which a hyper-paranoid neighborhood watch lunatic decided that a 17-year old black kid walking to his dad’s house whilst carrying an iced tea and a bag of Skittles was such a threat that, by the power vested in by the voices in his head, he just had to confront this kid and ultimately shoot him to death.  Why this George Zimmerman guy is not in jail can be attributed to the “Stand Your Ground” law in Florida which pretty much allows you to shoot whomever you want if you feel threatened by them, whether or not your feeling is genuine  or the product of irrational fears whispered to you by the Virgin Mary wearing a horse mask.

Now, in a case such as this that’s charged with serious-as-cancer racial and gun issues, it is inevitable that someone will say something so brutally stupid that it causes an intellectual concussion.  And sure enough our patience was rewarded by Geraldo Rivera who was on FOXNews to opine about this grave story and spewed forth this retarded gem:

But I am urging the parents of black and Latino youngsters particularly to not let their children go out wearing hoodies. I think the hoodie is as much responsible for Trayvon Martin’s death as George Zimmerman was.

“So I can’t wear a low-cut top and mini-skirt because I’ll get raped, but I can’t wear a hoodie because I’ll get shot,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “I had no idea there was so much danger in my wardrobe! I hope khaki pants don’t get you set on fire because I would be in deep shit.”

“I went through all the trouble of getting myself an anti-rape hoodie, and now it’s going to get me shot?” says Ninja Vicki.  “That’s a fucked up choice to make: getting raped or getting shot.  When did choosing something to wear turn into one of the goddamn Saw movies?”

“Well, right now only blacks and Latinos in hoodies are in danger of being shot on principle,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “But you know soon enough that white people will appropriate that trend just like they did rap music and Cinco de Mayo.”

“I hope Geraldo isn’t saying that hooded cloaks will get you shot too,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “I don’t want my Beltane to end in a hail of bullets by armed idiots who think we were trying to raise Chthulu when we dance around the maypole.”

“So Geraldo thinks any dark-skinned person wearing a hoodie is asking to be shot,” says Mikka.  “Funny, I happen to think anyone I see on Fox News drinks paint and strangles puppies for sexual gratification. Everyone has their preconceptions, some people just have more evidence for theirs.”

Geraldo continued drinking paint with a petulant defense of his statement about how Trayvon Martin would be alive if not for his hoodie, as well as snide derision of a Million Hoodie March (kind of like the Slutwalk) to protest the shooter not being arrested:

…thinking that a million hoodie march is going to change the image of a hoodie is like thinking that a chorus singing Koombayah is going to change the way people think about burkas.

“So pretty much unless you’re wearing a suit and tie, Geraldo is afraid of you,” says Anonymous Doug.  “Funny, because the people who can fuck over your life the most are assholes in suits.  That’s why I don’t listen to people in suits.  Or pants.”

“I don’t know what Kumbaya has to do with burkas, but you know you’ve got some high-quality stupidity happening when the person who spouts idiocy decides to double-down instead of retreating,” I say.  “So on the Geraldo Wardrobe of Doom Scoreboard please note that hoodies get you shot and burkas make people think you are going to blow them up.  We’re still awaiting word on whether leather jackets will get you stabbed or if sweater vests will get you beaten to death with baseball bats.”

“I take solace that Geraldo’s son is ashamed of his father’s idiocy,” says Samurai Cathy.  “Bringing that sort of shame upon your family used to be grounds for ritual self-disembowelment, but I doubt Geraldo has the wherewithal to know which end of the knife to stick in his belly, let alone any semblance of honor to consider such a path.”

Now Geraldo didn’t mention the Footie Hoodie or the Forever Lazy, but so far I haven’t had to shoot anyone wearing them because I limit my right to do so to my home.  If someone shows up to your door wearing one of them, they’re obviously in a cult and mean to do you irreparable harm. But you wait until they’re on your property to shoot them, because that’s the American Dream: shootin’ people who be trespassin’ yer prop’ty.

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