Dé Máirt, Aibreán 25, 2006

The "passion" of the Christ

I've seen this movie in recently. (Six months ago, never mind) so I thought I'd put my two cents in.
Many have been appaled by the ultraviolence of the film and accused Mel Gibson of repressed homosexuality. This is unfair. It is well documented that Gibson is a repressed pedophile (see Man Without a Face) At any rate, he was only trying to portray a supposedlly historical event that involved stripping a man naked, beating him to ribbons with "whips", Naling him to a giant tree,and leaving him there until he couldn't breathe and just had to "let go." There is simply no way to film the incident without making it look very gay.

This brings us to Herod Antipas; or rather, how he is depicted in "Passion" and other crucifixion stories. For those who don't know, this would be the son of the Christmastime baby killer. The synoptic Gospels state that Pilate originally sends Christ to Antipas in order to avoid the controversy surrounding him. This is a minor incident in the bible, something of a smoke break in all the hot and heavy action, yet is tends to capture peoples imaginations in a very interesting way.

Gibson's movie, like the medeivel passion plays that inspire it, portray Antipas as a mincing,flaming, gloryhole manning, Judy Collins worshiping, superstereotypical gay man. This contradicts both the historical and biblical record. It was Herod A., after all, who had John the Baptist beheaded in order to impress a woman. Yet even modernist passion plays like "Jesus Christ Superstar" have the gay Antippas. This is especially redundant in the film version of "Superstar" where it is clear that Peter, Pilate, Ciaphas, and especially Judas are all dying for a piece of saviorass.

The only compleatly straight character in "Superstar" is, naturally, Jesus himself. Is this the secret of our Lord's power? Is he the uberhetero, the first man to overcome his own Fraudian perversions? Skeptics dispute this by pointing out that Christ was the one who gave himself up to be "nailed" and "hung". This leaves Antippas as the most hetero figure in the whole sordid affair. It can be argued that that the old figurehead is just as much of a martyr as Christ himself. This brings us finally to our conclusions.

1. Isn't interesting how the stereotype of a gay man has stayed more or less the same since the early dark ages?

2. Herod Antippas has been unfarly slandered for 2000 years because of his brave refusal to involve himself in our perverted rituals. Once again we see how men reward virtue.

Dé Luain, Aibreán 24, 2006

A quick note on baseball

The N.U. baseball team won two out of three games in Austin this weekend. This is probablly the biggest acomplishment by the entire athletic department this year. Those friends of mine who are too beautiful for sports should at least contact me to learn the "horns down" cheer.

Fuck Vending Machines

I tried to buy a soda at Pioneers Park today with a dollar bill that had a couple of microscopic folds. I would have felt better if I had been raped by my best friend. I am a human being (an ubermensch at that) and like all humans I am entitled to perfect, unfailing obedience from all machines at all times. C.I.A. satelites are reading your bathroom porn right now, and yet no one can come up with vending machine scanners that can tell the difference between a slightly crimpled dollar and monopoly money. If the vending machine companies are that fucking worried about being ripped off than they shouldn't fucking bother with paper money in the first place,


Déardaoin, Aibreán 20, 2006

Why can't we have smart plutocrats like other red states?

From the Hitler day edition of the Lincoln-Journal Star:

"Another University of Nebraska Board of Regents candidate is spending big money in his campaign, a spree that angers opponents and, given recent history, suggests he's likely to be elected."
"Jim Nagangast, an Omaha businessman, has estimated he'll spend $130,000 for the primary campaign, which runs until the May 9 primary election."
If he spends a similar amount during the general election campaign, Nagengast would become the third Omaha-area businessman recently to spend more than $250,000 for a run at the unpaid position of NU regent."
(Moving On)
"Like Hawks, Ferlic, and Satan, Nagencast has nabbed the key Nebraska Right to Life endorsement"
(Skipping ahead some more)
"It's frustrating, he (Nagancast) says, that the media want to focus on Hergert's own impeachment and his own campaign spending instead of his platfoem, which includes more on-campus housing at the University of Nebraska at Omaha.
Nagancast recently unveiled the 'Nebraska covenant,' a plan to use private money to help more low-income students attend college without costing Nebraska taxpayers.
Not a single television camera or news reporter showed up at his news conference.
(End Article)

From: Mr. Heartland
To: Nu Board of Regents and Canditates thereof
RE: Stop Kidding yourselves

Good day gentleman, I'll try to get to the point an hold your attention. None of you will ever be governor, and you're not heading to Congress any time soon either. Your brilliant schemes to earn name recognition on the board of regents will; shit, I was going to write something really clever there, but all I really have to do is write, "your brilliant scheme to earn name recognition on the board of regents."
So, Mr. Nagancast, you're upset that your "Nebraska covenant" failed to ignite a media brushfire. You don't get out much, do you? Feel free to dig through the archives of either the Journal-Star or World-Herald and try to find a front page article on the board of regents that doesn't include the words "Hergert" "impeachment" or "disgrace to Nebraska."
You see, gentlemen, nobody pays attention to a university board of regents unless there is some sort of old-school Boss Tweed scandal involved. You have chosen a poor venue in which to show off your conservative peacock feathers. The only people who keep an eye on the Board of Regents are Commie/Faggot types who care more about integrity and pragmatism than Americanism, Godliness, and manliness.
For those of you already on the board, I'm afraid it's too late for you. There is nothing for you to do except give up any tragic dreams of higher office you may still have. Twenty years from now; when some young turk sees you trying to debate allocations for the U.N.K. groundskeeping crew without weeping, you may serve as a warning against making the wrong choices in life and still be of some benefit to humanity. For those running for the board or considering doing so; consider yourselves warned. Your money would be better spent putting your name on an underwater weight room for the football team. If your seek high political office, the formula is simple. Flood the airwaves with your face, mumble something about loving Jesus, and pretend to live in a small town. But please, keep your filthy fucking pig hooves away from anything that carries the name of my university.

Dé Máirt, Aibreán 18, 2006

For those ignorant of the tag

I published this little essay on the xxxxtreme urban street tag facebook page a couple of months ago. It will tell you all you need to know, and in fact far more than you should. (My essay can also be found on the awsome world of Dan Fbach.)

"Survival of the fittest" is a phrase routinely and wrongly attributed to Charles Darwin. The saying actually comes from social theorists who were, perhaps, a bit overzealous, and certainly far to direct, in pursuing the interests of the better half. A central tenant of Darwinism is, infact, randomness. There is no "deserve" in nature. Right and wrong, punishment and reward, justice and injustice; nothing but illusions. The lion does not catch the gazelle because it works harder; or because it has a better grasp of the concept of victory. The lion catches the gazelle because it has the dumb luck of being born a lion.

This is why tag is essential. Those of us who are burdened with the truth know that our weekly ritual is an act of defiance; a primal scream against the nihilism of the bitch goddess we call nature. But what do the common people see? They see rules, "winners", "losers". Most importantly, they see order. Simply put, we of the tag are order. We are society. The veneer of reason we create prevents the peasentry from abandoning their work in despair; or destroying themselves in hopeless rebellion against forces beyond their understanding. Instead, the unwashed accept our arbritrary rule as "natural" and turn their dimly realized frustrations upon each other. True, this does lead to some ugliness from time to time, but this can be logically justified as population control. At any rate, society is surely more productive and efficient than it otherwise would be.

If tag did not exist it would be nessessary to invent it.

(If I die tomorrow, this will be my legacy. I hit the whole illuminati-meets-Karl-Marx tone perfectly on the first draft, this is only a slight revision. I like to think that there is some legitimate anti-conservative satire behind all the nonsense.)

Dé Domhnaigh, Aibreán 16, 2006

I have Ass cancer

So says the (doctor? nurse? goddess?) in the dream I had last night. Some superstitious types might have immedietly arrainged for tests, and I was quite worried myself when I first woke up. But now that I think about it, I'll probably be o.k. This "official" whoever she was, did not address me by name, did not tell me my odds of survival, and did not say I had colon cancer like any actual professional would. Her exact words were "you have ass cancer" and then she disappeared. She was not a dead friend, the Virgin Mary, or anyone of any particular importance. Most importantly, this dream was followed by another one where a male "doctor" said "Don't be crazy, you don't have ass cancer." And he actually did tests! Though I can't say exactlly what the tests were.

The further adventures of Madame Drunkenhonky Mc'Jew.(She is going to die)

I got to know the woman a little better last night, and I take back every half-hearted nice thing I said about her. The woman is fucked, fucked, fucked. Fucked like a man who got ran over by a combine. She was cut off by sir Hall after dropping her drink and giving only a drunk giggle as reaction. We needed to physically remove the drink from her hands and than spent half an hour trying to convince her that it was for the best. She apparantly doesn't consider herself drunk unless she is compleatly incoherant and dead to the world. I've been there before, and I would not still be here if I was still there.

Be advised that the following account is not exagerated in any way:

After this went on for awhile (IMMM NOT DRUUNNK, I UNDyERRSTANND EVVERYTHING THATS GOYING ONN AWOUND ME) she seemed to have come around. It was then that a gentleman put his 40 oz. on the porch and went inside to take a leak. Ms. Mc'Jew got up. ran to the bottle , and started chugging the bottom half of the Miller High-Life 40. Me and the owner of the beverage restrained her and tried to take the bottle away. She responded by BITING MY HAND AND THREATENING TO PUNCH ME. We stared at each other for five minutes. We reminded her that she would have to let go of the bottle to punch me, and that her host had told her to stop drinking. This was very simple logic, but it did not lead to more drinking for her, so she rejected it. Eventually, I was the winner of the standoff. Ms. Mc'Jew signaled her acceptance by weeping uncontrollably. Somebody arranged to take her to wherever, and the night ended anti-climaticaly.
It is actually quite a rare thing to run into a truly broken person. With the clarity of daylight and sobriety now filling my mind, I am filled with; shock, real, sincere, shock. I can not believe this shit happened. The sight of her litterally popping up and charging toward the bottle, it was like watching an unleashed puppy run into traffic. Mc'Jew needs to be locked up: Victorian Era alcoholism treatment, complete with snake and devil halucinations. Failing that, she should be mocked and made to dance by random passerby for little airplane shooters of cheap vodka. If this fails, communist re-education camp. The world must be made safe for moderate drunkeness.

Déardaoin, Aibreán 13, 2006

Reading makes life easier

If you'td like to read better, or know someone who would like to read better, you're not alone. Each year, we put thousands of people accross the country in touch with programs that can help to improve their reading skills. And when you improve your reading skills, you can't help but improve your life.

When you read better, it will be easier to:

Fill out job applications
Help your children with their homework
Follow directions and instructions
Keep in touch with your family
Follow your favorite sports and interests in the newspaper
Possibly get a promotion at work-or maybe even a better job
Order meals in restaurants
Enjoy books and magazines

There are many organizations in your area that can help. If you fill out the attached card and drop it in a mailbox, we'll send you information about these organizations. We've already paid the postage and all referrals are confidential. Remember-reading can lead to a better life for you and your family. It's easy to get help and it's easy to improve your reading skills. Thousands of people are reading better today-and before long, you can too.

(The following was printed verbatim from a pamphlet found in a Lincoln area Dollar General. If reading this has inspired you to learn how to read, please emote your vorcifirous gratitude to this forthright and moraly upstanding corporate entity.)

Dé Céadaoin, Aibreán 12, 2006

Official bitch of the state of nebraska

The state unicam took the day off from going insane to actually do something meaningful, impeaching regent Dave Hergert on a 25-22 vote. I should take the time to point out my hometown rep, North Platte's Don Peterson, as a gigantic pussy. He and the other Peterson, the one from Elkhorn, abstained from voting. Expect more appeals to Panhandle sectionalism and naked contempt for "activist" students to come from the Hergert camp, such as it is.

Dé Máirt, Aibreán 11, 2006

By popular request

The night began with a bit of zombie porn (Well, it was Saturday, so of course it didn't begin that way.) The movie turned out to be rather disapointing. The original "money shot" of a zombie woman biting off her partners cock and than covering herself with blood was nice, and the death metal soundtrack couldn't help but be amusing. Other than that though, it was just a normal, cheap, degrading porno. It featured mostly anal, anal to oral, more anal to oral, and some more anal. There is nothing in the zombie canon that says they are more inclined toward buttsex than the general population. Pornography is supposed to make me feel smarter and more ironic than other people. Why should zombie porn make everyone feel like a bunch of sick losers?

Her name was???... Mary Drunkenhonky Mc'Jew. Even if I could remember her actual name, I wouldn't actually know who she was. She could have been a figmant of everyone's imagination. I think I may have saw her at tag, or not. It doesn't matter. I don't think I'll see her again.

i didn't drink that much myself, four beers over four hours, just enough to be in the flow of the party. Somebody treated me to a bit of nutmeg however, so the combination left me quite faded by the end of the night. Besides Allan "Zombie Porn"s' girlfriend, she was the only female who stayed all night and was, of course, the center of everyone's attention.

She was a red-headed Jewish girl from Gulfport Mississippi, why not? She came to Nebraska as a Katrina refugee, or so she claimed, why not? She seemed cool enough, friendly, flirtatious, witty. I don't know what she was drinking besides a lot; likely random free shots of this and that. She seemed a bit too clean to be homeless or to come from a drug addled home. On second thought, no, not in the least.

The vomiting began at two o'clock and lasted for an hour. Our host went to bed. Just turned 21 recently, and was the first asleep, weird motherfucker. The girl was immensely fortunate that she found herself in our company. If this was a few years back she could have ended up at Richie Incognito's house and gotten fucking killed. But none of us would do such a thing. What? and face the subtle, condesending disapproval of Jeff Hall? We of the tag, like our Samarian forefathers, hold the protection of guests to be sacred. Our only instinct was to help the girl.

I was the oldest one, and I had a car. Furthermore, my need to take a piss had interuppted what'shername's bable therapy on the bathroom floor. Any permanent solution would have to involve me, but I was faded. I had planned on walking home through tweakerville and coming back for my car in the morning. But Mary had to get back to wherever she was going. Enter Dillion, another tagger. He had always struck me as a goofy lad, but he earned my respect that night. He was sober, you see. Why he had chosen to hang out with a room full of mentally disturbed wannabe artists without drinking with them, never mind. He offered to drive my car to the dorms to drop off the Katrina baby and someone else. The drive had it's ups and downs. The girl didn't puke on the floor. (Which, let's be honest, wouldn't have made much of a difference) But unfortunatly, Dillion didn't seem to know a thing about the university parking system. I had to explain the meaning of red lots and parking meters to him as we wondered through downtown like a bunch of (think of analogy) drunk drivers. We eventually found a spot near Abel, and after opening the door like a gentleman, I allowed Dillion and JJ? to lead the girl past "security" to her temperery sleeping quarters.
I walked directly in front of a campus cop as I cut through a red lot, spare beer in my pocket. He said nothing and made no gestures. If they put parking services in charge of general law enforcement on weekend nights the county jail would be filled. I couldn't help but think that I'm to old for this shit.

hello pt.2

I'm going to be the next Andrew Suloivan"snerk" except I make no attempt to be respectful and I have no creepy sexual habits. Anyhow, I suppose I should actually say something at some point, but I have shit to do. Should my first real post be about the insolant brown people who dare to practice democracy, or the hurricane refugee who's very lucky she didn't end up partying at a frat house on Sat night? Anyone reading this "snerk" will have to wait until i attend to scholary duties.


Good day fine people, my name is Josh Beran, News-Ed major at the University of Nebraska.

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