Maf54: Show your package then
xxxxxxx: Slow things down a little im still young, like under 18. dont want to do anything illegal. Im not 18 till feb. 23
Maf54 I know
nothing will happen
just dreaming
Courtesy of Congressman Mark Foley (R-Bangkok) and one of his boys.
Dé hAoine, Meán Fómhair 29, 2006
Déardaoin, Meán Fómhair 28, 2006
Overseen on T-Shirt
I am a Christian Competitor
My body is the temple of Jesus Christ. I protect it from within and without. Nothing enters my body That does not honor the living God. My sweat is an offering to my master. My soreness is a sacrifice to my savior
Too hot for words.
My body is the temple of Jesus Christ. I protect it from within and without. Nothing enters my body That does not honor the living God. My sweat is an offering to my master. My soreness is a sacrifice to my savior
Too hot for words.
Dé Máirt, Meán Fómhair 26, 2006
Tottenham fan
I met a Brit at the bar a couple of nights ago. Everyone around him was fascinated. It turns out, (who woulda thunk it) that Britian isn't much different from here. They get their drivers licenses at 17, they can drink at 18, they naever have and never will get over their techno phase, that's it.
The accents are interesting, let's not beat around the bush about that. My friend was a Tottenham Hotspur fan, and I was fascinated by his ability to make a three-sylable word into a monosylaible word. (toyiam)
The accents are interesting, let's not beat around the bush about that. My friend was a Tottenham Hotspur fan, and I was fascinated by his ability to make a three-sylable word into a monosylaible word. (toyiam)
Dé Luain, Meán Fómhair 25, 2006
Indians sure come In Handy
Poem by Simon Ortiz
There was a Greek
who was the city judge
In th late 1950's and early 60's
and he got in early
on the uranium boom business
The workers were trying to organize than,
you know.
a lot of them had come in,
miners from West Virginia, Montana,
Colorado, Oilfield workers
from Oklahoma, Texas, Louisiana.
The mines were pretty dangerous, wet,
water a foot deep most of the time,
and the companies said
there just wasn't enough timbers
to go around, there were cave-ins
The companies just couldn't mine fast enough
to keep up with the demand
for yellowcake the Atomic Energy Commission
was buying and stockpiling then
The mine superintendents
and the city judge,
who was also with the Chamber of Commerce,
were all good friends, of course.
They played golf at the Zuni Country Club
During that organizing time
and during that strike in 1961,
that jail full of Indians sure came in handy.
The jailer would even call in sick for you
and tell you which mines were hiring Indians.
The unions didn't have much of a chance
and Grants just kept on booming.
Simon Ortiz is fucking amazing. That is all. Perhaps I'll have more to say on the matter at another time.
There was a Greek
who was the city judge
In th late 1950's and early 60's
and he got in early
on the uranium boom business
The workers were trying to organize than,
you know.
a lot of them had come in,
miners from West Virginia, Montana,
Colorado, Oilfield workers
from Oklahoma, Texas, Louisiana.
The mines were pretty dangerous, wet,
water a foot deep most of the time,
and the companies said
there just wasn't enough timbers
to go around, there were cave-ins
The companies just couldn't mine fast enough
to keep up with the demand
for yellowcake the Atomic Energy Commission
was buying and stockpiling then
The mine superintendents
and the city judge,
who was also with the Chamber of Commerce,
were all good friends, of course.
They played golf at the Zuni Country Club
During that organizing time
and during that strike in 1961,
that jail full of Indians sure came in handy.
The jailer would even call in sick for you
and tell you which mines were hiring Indians.
The unions didn't have much of a chance
and Grants just kept on booming.
Simon Ortiz is fucking amazing. That is all. Perhaps I'll have more to say on the matter at another time.
Dé Sathairn, Meán Fómhair 23, 2006
Game of Death (and action movies in general)
You have, of course, heard of this film.Lee wrote the script himself, and took great pride in it. The plot of the movie is actually better than most martial-arts films, which is horrifying to think about.
In the movie, Lee is approached by gangsters to fight his way to the top of an aincient pagoda and steal a vast treasure. The gangsters can't use guns because they are forbidden in the temple, so they need Lee's fighting skills to rob the pagoda without breaking the law.
Lee is a good man, so of course he can't do it. Bt the gangsters kidnap his wife and child, so he has no choice. Studies have shown that female relatives of action heros have an average life span of six weeks.
So Lee and a couple of extras fight their way through five increasingly tough fighters in the pagoda on their way to the treasure. This is where we come to the money shot. Bruce motherfucking Lee vs. Kareem-Abdul Jabbar.
It's incredibly stupid, of course. (Though remember, not as stupid as the average action film) but it doesn't matter. The Lee-Jabbar fight is the coolest thing that has ever happaned. It is the reason for the big bang. Everything that has happened since the fight has just been a waste of everyone's time.
Which raises the question; why do action movies even have plots? The dialogue and acting is always laughible, so why bother? What would be wrong with a film that's nothing but two hours of men beating the shit out of each other without explanation?
Let's not kid ourselves, no one watches a Chuck Norris movie to reinforce their anti-daughter kidnapping moral position. Can we please cut the bullshit? I think the honesty of a dialogue-free male snuff film would be very liberating.
Of course, there are those who insist that every movie has to have a good guy and a bad guy, and the good guy has to win. Fine, we'll give them different colered shirts or something. Otherwise, straight to the body count baby.
Dé hAoine, Meán Fómhair 22, 2006
Hugo Chavez kicks ass
If Chavez had done nothing more than pull out a Noam Chomsky book and start awkwardly pimping it before the United Nations like he was trying to impress a clove smoking girl in his poly-sci class, that would have been enough.
( I thought the bush-Devil comparision was pretty lame. Bush is a bloody tyrant, but there have been lots of those. It doesn't make him the devil.)
But the real golden moment came later in a news conference, where Chavez expressed regret that he didn't get a chance to meet Chomsky while he was still alive.
I am only a mediocre writer, my prose cannot describe how funny this is. If you saw the news conference, and didn't consider it the funniest thing you have ever heard, I question your sanity. This is Monty Python trading jokes with Mark Twain while huffing gasoline.
Just imagine said clove smoking girl saying that she wishes she had met Noam Chomsky while he was still alive. Imagine the hilarity. Now consider the fact that a fucking head of state said this.
Senor, that kind or talk may get you kicked out of the coffee shop, but you will always be a friend of mine, stop by my place whenever you like. You'll like me, I'm as proletarian as they come.
I had matured beyond the point of stupidly rebelling against adult authority without knowing what I was rebelling against. Now I have matured some more, and I see that everyone really is an idiot, and the biggest idiots really are in charge. How reassuring.
( I thought the bush-Devil comparision was pretty lame. Bush is a bloody tyrant, but there have been lots of those. It doesn't make him the devil.)
But the real golden moment came later in a news conference, where Chavez expressed regret that he didn't get a chance to meet Chomsky while he was still alive.
I am only a mediocre writer, my prose cannot describe how funny this is. If you saw the news conference, and didn't consider it the funniest thing you have ever heard, I question your sanity. This is Monty Python trading jokes with Mark Twain while huffing gasoline.
Just imagine said clove smoking girl saying that she wishes she had met Noam Chomsky while he was still alive. Imagine the hilarity. Now consider the fact that a fucking head of state said this.
Senor, that kind or talk may get you kicked out of the coffee shop, but you will always be a friend of mine, stop by my place whenever you like. You'll like me, I'm as proletarian as they come.
I had matured beyond the point of stupidly rebelling against adult authority without knowing what I was rebelling against. Now I have matured some more, and I see that everyone really is an idiot, and the biggest idiots really are in charge. How reassuring.
Lincoln is fourth drunkest city in America
I never would have noticed.
I got the news from the LJS's new "402" section, the psuedo-hip suppliment that replaced the health and environment sections on Tuesday and Thursday, respectfully. It should be said that these sections were vastly superior to "Catty Girls Advise." but never mind.
Binge-drinking is on the upswing nationwide, especially on the Plains and especially in Lincoln. Illeagal drug use, meanwhile, continues to be much lower than it was in the 90's. Why not?
These are conservative times. The time for experimenting at the rave is long past. Now is the time for fitting oneself into the ever tightening box of acceptible belief and behavior. This process of euthanizing one's soul requires a healthy amount of anesthetic, and not the kind that the hippies use, what kind of sorrow do they have to d
rown, anyway?
But there's nothing wrong with a little alcohol? Alcohol is manly, American. We all reach for the brass ring so we can taste the champaign at the top, don't we?
"Hey there son, what a fine looking young man you are. Tie one on last night, did ya? That's all right. Nothing I didn't do when I was your age. Anyhow, it's game day! So how about a Coors Light with your breakfast?"
It's good to see fine young men sow their wild oats before it gets time to settle down and find a woman Just remember to use that killer instinct in the office, you'll really get ahead that way.
I got the news from the LJS's new "402" section, the psuedo-hip suppliment that replaced the health and environment sections on Tuesday and Thursday, respectfully. It should be said that these sections were vastly superior to "Catty Girls Advise." but never mind.
Binge-drinking is on the upswing nationwide, especially on the Plains and especially in Lincoln. Illeagal drug use, meanwhile, continues to be much lower than it was in the 90's. Why not?
These are conservative times. The time for experimenting at the rave is long past. Now is the time for fitting oneself into the ever tightening box of acceptible belief and behavior. This process of euthanizing one's soul requires a healthy amount of anesthetic, and not the kind that the hippies use, what kind of sorrow do they have to d
rown, anyway?But there's nothing wrong with a little alcohol? Alcohol is manly, American. We all reach for the brass ring so we can taste the champaign at the top, don't we?
"Hey there son, what a fine looking young man you are. Tie one on last night, did ya? That's all right. Nothing I didn't do when I was your age. Anyhow, it's game day! So how about a Coors Light with your breakfast?"
It's good to see fine young men sow their wild oats before it gets time to settle down and find a woman Just remember to use that killer instinct in the office, you'll really get ahead that way.
Déardaoin, Meán Fómhair 21, 2006
World Peace day
I am one of those fasting to protest the war. I did not attend the protest at the Lincoln federal building earlier, but that was because I had official school business that needed to be attended to. Mostly, i just wanted to see if I actually believed in something enough to do something about it. So far so good. I'm hitting up Ali Baba's like a motherfucker come midnight.
Dé Máirt, Meán Fómhair 19, 2006
Illeagal invasion
Some time ago, a friend of mine asked me if Lexington, Nebraska was "Still being overrun by illegal immigrants."
You could say that.
The town has nearly doubled in size in the past ten years, mainly beacuse of immigration, legal and ilegal.
Of course, no one has a problem with immigration, just illegal immigration. sure, there are complaints about having to see signs in spanish and listen to words in Spanish, and these tend to come from the same people who have been trying to force a uniformaly WASP culture on us natives for the past 300 years.
But racism has nothing to do with it.
Pity poor Lexington. If only she wern't being overrun with illegals. Than she could be just like every other small town in Nebraska; slowly atrophing as all the educated young get out of a culturally stagnant hell hole. Comforting herself with delusions of moral superiority while she fades into oblivion.
You could say that.
The town has nearly doubled in size in the past ten years, mainly beacuse of immigration, legal and ilegal.
Of course, no one has a problem with immigration, just illegal immigration. sure, there are complaints about having to see signs in spanish and listen to words in Spanish, and these tend to come from the same people who have been trying to force a uniformaly WASP culture on us natives for the past 300 years.
But racism has nothing to do with it.
Pity poor Lexington. If only she wern't being overrun with illegals. Than she could be just like every other small town in Nebraska; slowly atrophing as all the educated young get out of a culturally stagnant hell hole. Comforting herself with delusions of moral superiority while she fades into oblivion.
Dé Luain, Meán Fómhair 18, 2006
I am not a badass. I am badass
Friday night, tornado warning. The funnel crowd was southeast of the Lincoln city limits on NE 2. Those of us downtown had no way of knowing this, however, so the fact that ignored the sirans and continued drinking makes us too awesome for words.
For those who don't know, let me give you a brief description of central Lincoln. There is downtown, of course; well maintained public buildings in a midst of drunkeness and homelessness. I have already told you about our rush to seek shelter Friday.
Surrounding downtown are neighborhoods full of substandard housing, outright shanties, really. T-Town, North bottoms, South Bottoms, the near south.
Tornadoes are a bit overrated by those outside of the Midwest. True, if if a tornado does hit your house it will destroy it and likely everyone in it. But twisters are small, usually no more than half a mile wide. So the odds that any given tornado will hit your house are quite small.
Having said that , the urban core of Lincoln is a bit frayed at the edges, and quite vulnerable to summer weather. I can picture it right now. A super-cell forms over my neighborhood (T-Town) The rain floods Antelope Creek. A tornado forms and hits T-Town, slices through the dorms at the NU campus and on into the Bottoms. Somewhere along its path through the obsolete infrastructure, the tornado busts open a gas line, the resulting blaze incinerates the aincient wood of the cheap rentals and the tenants trapped inside. It may be a streach, but 500 dead is a possibility.
For those who don't know, let me give you a brief description of central Lincoln. There is downtown, of course; well maintained public buildings in a midst of drunkeness and homelessness. I have already told you about our rush to seek shelter Friday.
Surrounding downtown are neighborhoods full of substandard housing, outright shanties, really. T-Town, North bottoms, South Bottoms, the near south.
Tornadoes are a bit overrated by those outside of the Midwest. True, if if a tornado does hit your house it will destroy it and likely everyone in it. But twisters are small, usually no more than half a mile wide. So the odds that any given tornado will hit your house are quite small.
Having said that , the urban core of Lincoln is a bit frayed at the edges, and quite vulnerable to summer weather. I can picture it right now. A super-cell forms over my neighborhood (T-Town) The rain floods Antelope Creek. A tornado forms and hits T-Town, slices through the dorms at the NU campus and on into the Bottoms. Somewhere along its path through the obsolete infrastructure, the tornado busts open a gas line, the resulting blaze incinerates the aincient wood of the cheap rentals and the tenants trapped inside. It may be a streach, but 500 dead is a possibility.
Dé Sathairn, Meán Fómhair 16, 2006
Just a Thought
Death penelty supporters will often brag about how they care about the victims more than the rest of us. Nonsense. They are in love with the idea of caring about the victims. Isn't it funny that those who fancy themselves as being so realistic about human nature believe they are capible of such strong emotions for strangers? We can all feel empathy for the dead, sure. But we cannot no truly feel a need for bloody revenge for those we do not know, at least not without the mastabatory indulgence of thinking it could have been "my daughter, son, wife" etc.
There is no such thing as human instinct. There is no human nature. There are no universal emotions or common reactions to any situation. Therefore, symphathy for a murder victim does not "naturally' lead to a desire to kill the murderer. The absense of this desire does not prove a lack of sympathy for the victims. Right-wingers should throw this pro-murder strawman in the junk heap and find some other imaginary threat to manliness to worry about.
Ultamatly, the deeper problem is that revenge does not exist. Once an evil is done, it hangs in the atmosphere forever, unccorectable. It hardly matters what we do to the evildoers, they are not important. The problem with murder is that it leaves somebody dead, not that somebody killed them.
There is no justice. There are no cosmic scales. There is no battle between good and evil. There is only public safety. A virus that kills two 90-year-olds is worse than a murderer who kills a single 5-year-old.
There is no such thing as human instinct. There is no human nature. There are no universal emotions or common reactions to any situation. Therefore, symphathy for a murder victim does not "naturally' lead to a desire to kill the murderer. The absense of this desire does not prove a lack of sympathy for the victims. Right-wingers should throw this pro-murder strawman in the junk heap and find some other imaginary threat to manliness to worry about.
Ultamatly, the deeper problem is that revenge does not exist. Once an evil is done, it hangs in the atmosphere forever, unccorectable. It hardly matters what we do to the evildoers, they are not important. The problem with murder is that it leaves somebody dead, not that somebody killed them.
There is no justice. There are no cosmic scales. There is no battle between good and evil. There is only public safety. A virus that kills two 90-year-olds is worse than a murderer who kills a single 5-year-old.
Dé Céadaoin, Meán Fómhair 13, 2006
goodbye mayor frumpy
The backbiting that led Lincoln Mayor Colleen Seng to drop out of the race has taught us several valuable truths.
1. it doesn't matter how much new business you bring to town. Unless you bust the city budget savishly whoring yourself out to major corporations, changing city zoning rules too please them, and offering them free roads, electricity, and plumbing, you are a filthy socialist. Developing downtown, of course, doesn't count as development at all. Only a silly woman would think that the people that matter would want to go downtown to mingle with the people that don't.
2. Politics, like life and every solitary detail of it, is a test of toughness. Mayor Seng (AKA Grandma LOL) cited "civility" as a reason for dropping out. Well good! Truth is determined by who can shout the loudest to show how outraged the are.
3. Seng's biggest weakness was her belief that Lincoln actually mattered and should stand apart from Omaha. Once again, silly womanhood. Some people actually choose to live in college towns long after they graduate for the culture and atmosphere. Fuck these pencilnecks, nothing but unproductive bookworm types. Culture and character get in the way of progress. Just five me a place where I make a phallic symbol out of my front yard and pick up some Burger King on my way to the First Resource Dynamic Solutions (TM) office at 214th and Dodge.
1. it doesn't matter how much new business you bring to town. Unless you bust the city budget savishly whoring yourself out to major corporations, changing city zoning rules too please them, and offering them free roads, electricity, and plumbing, you are a filthy socialist. Developing downtown, of course, doesn't count as development at all. Only a silly woman would think that the people that matter would want to go downtown to mingle with the people that don't.
2. Politics, like life and every solitary detail of it, is a test of toughness. Mayor Seng (AKA Grandma LOL) cited "civility" as a reason for dropping out. Well good! Truth is determined by who can shout the loudest to show how outraged the are.
3. Seng's biggest weakness was her belief that Lincoln actually mattered and should stand apart from Omaha. Once again, silly womanhood. Some people actually choose to live in college towns long after they graduate for the culture and atmosphere. Fuck these pencilnecks, nothing but unproductive bookworm types. Culture and character get in the way of progress. Just five me a place where I make a phallic symbol out of my front yard and pick up some Burger King on my way to the First Resource Dynamic Solutions (TM) office at 214th and Dodge.
Dé Máirt, Meán Fómhair 12, 2006
world fails to end on 9/12
I have waited until midnight. I drank a bottle of fine-strawberry flavored "Andre" champaign to mark the occasion, but the world has failed to end. I remember that the House of Yahwah newsletter I got last month said something about the nukes starting to fall on September 12th according to Abeline Texas time. Well, Lincoln Nebraska is in the same time zone, where is your Yahwah now Hawkins? It's all over. Here we are.
Check out the BBC site to see a Kenyan branch of the HOY react to the failed prophecy.
" Kenyan joy as world fails to end."
Check out the BBC site to see a Kenyan branch of the HOY react to the failed prophecy.
" Kenyan joy as world fails to end."
Dé Luain, Meán Fómhair 11, 2006
Lesson in Manliness ruined by pussies
UNL Chemestry Professor John Belot Jr . (Chancellor Belot, if there was any justice in the world.) showed up to class hungover and frisky at class on Friday. He decided to hand out some large firecrakers to a few students of Chem 110, apparently leaving them to do whatever they liked with the explosives. He had been drinking at a keno bar the night before, one student said that he appeared to still be intoxicated. Another said he "swore frequently." (tut, tut.) One of these nancy-boys or girls called the campus police immediatly after class and got Belot suspended.
here's some more student quotes, courtesy of the Sept 11th (The day America turned into an old woman) Journal Star.
"He'd be lecturing, than he'd keep talking about these explosives."
"I don't know how volitile they (the firecrakers) were," 'I got the hell out of there"
Come now, waz it weally that scarwy?
We have finally bottomed out on the long slow pussification of America that George Carlin warned us about. A society this intolerant of anything that smacks of chaos or insanity simply isn't free. Sure, we may still grudgingly tolerate our naive, idealistic constitution; but what good is it if we reflexivly call the cops on every weirdo? Reflexivly vote for the safest, "mainstream" candidate and spend our evenings watching sitcoms and dramas that might be "dirty" enough to show a bra or bicep, but in the end always reinforce "mainstream" cliches?
Why have we willingly raised a generation of mental cowards? Is it because of 9/11? Or is it something deeper? Does mty parents generation really believe the the right wing when it says that civilization almost collapsed in the sixties? Do they really believe they acheived the pinnacle of hedonism, and that they must protect their children from their own supposidly wild deeds and ideas?
Nearly 70 % of the country is now opposed to the war in Iraq. It doesn't matter. Not when protesting the war or anything else is considered equivalent to raising the hammer and sickle. Not many people like John Bolton, not even many conservatives. But who was there to protest the asshole when he came to Lincoln? Only a handful of dirty hippies. What ingrates. Who publicly complains in a democracy anyway?
So here we are with a campus and country full of perfectly safe classes, perfectly safe ideas, and perfectly safe entertainment. Don't worry parents, your kids won't be wearing any weird clothes or brining any weird ideas to the dinner table. They won't think or change much at all during their six years of college. No risk, no deviance, no democracy, no problem.
here's some more student quotes, courtesy of the Sept 11th (The day America turned into an old woman) Journal Star.
"He'd be lecturing, than he'd keep talking about these explosives."
"I don't know how volitile they (the firecrakers) were," 'I got the hell out of there"
Come now, waz it weally that scarwy?
We have finally bottomed out on the long slow pussification of America that George Carlin warned us about. A society this intolerant of anything that smacks of chaos or insanity simply isn't free. Sure, we may still grudgingly tolerate our naive, idealistic constitution; but what good is it if we reflexivly call the cops on every weirdo? Reflexivly vote for the safest, "mainstream" candidate and spend our evenings watching sitcoms and dramas that might be "dirty" enough to show a bra or bicep, but in the end always reinforce "mainstream" cliches?
Why have we willingly raised a generation of mental cowards? Is it because of 9/11? Or is it something deeper? Does mty parents generation really believe the the right wing when it says that civilization almost collapsed in the sixties? Do they really believe they acheived the pinnacle of hedonism, and that they must protect their children from their own supposidly wild deeds and ideas?
Nearly 70 % of the country is now opposed to the war in Iraq. It doesn't matter. Not when protesting the war or anything else is considered equivalent to raising the hammer and sickle. Not many people like John Bolton, not even many conservatives. But who was there to protest the asshole when he came to Lincoln? Only a handful of dirty hippies. What ingrates. Who publicly complains in a democracy anyway?
So here we are with a campus and country full of perfectly safe classes, perfectly safe ideas, and perfectly safe entertainment. Don't worry parents, your kids won't be wearing any weird clothes or brining any weird ideas to the dinner table. They won't think or change much at all during their six years of college. No risk, no deviance, no democracy, no problem.
5 years later
Never forget the victims. never forgive those who pimp war and death while not having the slightest clue about what to do to solve the problem.
Dé Domhnaigh, Meán Fómhair 10, 2006
Tales From the State Fair: Take 2
Have you ever been to a big arts and crafts or business expo? have you ever noticed how the people manning the booths always have those little headset mikes even though they're only talking to people that are, at most, 10 feet away. there's a purpose behind this. If the man trying to sell a home-salsa maker has a microphone, (and a big tv screen showing himself making salsa, as well as some posters of smiling families.) than he must be important, you better give him your full consideration.
I heard one of these vendors say that he likes coming to Nebraska because people arn't as skeptical here. They take his whirlpool selling lines at face value. How terribly cynical and anti-capitalist to assume that a white Christian salesman would be anything less than honest about the greatness of his sauna.
One of these Suanas had a plasma screen television behind it. I don't know why. It was showing one of the Eagles' reuinion concerts. I thought this was a nice touch. This is the kind of thing that people with Plasma-screen tvs in the sauna room actually watch. The music was, of course, utterly souless. Complete with a unifomally dressed horn section and by-thenumbers, improve free versions of all the shit you've heard a million times. Joe Walsh used to be kind of cool, does he have a coke habit to pay for?
A booth selling kitchen utensils had a poster emphesizing its belief in faith, family, and country.
Another one sai its products were made "by and for americans, any questions"?
Well, I have a couple questions. Is there a pagan anarchist kitchen utensil company that your competing against? And why are you limiting your market to the United States? Smith would be aghast.
to the cow that was so terrified by my prescence that it shat for a minute straight, I'm sorry.
I heard one of these vendors say that he likes coming to Nebraska because people arn't as skeptical here. They take his whirlpool selling lines at face value. How terribly cynical and anti-capitalist to assume that a white Christian salesman would be anything less than honest about the greatness of his sauna.
One of these Suanas had a plasma screen television behind it. I don't know why. It was showing one of the Eagles' reuinion concerts. I thought this was a nice touch. This is the kind of thing that people with Plasma-screen tvs in the sauna room actually watch. The music was, of course, utterly souless. Complete with a unifomally dressed horn section and by-thenumbers, improve free versions of all the shit you've heard a million times. Joe Walsh used to be kind of cool, does he have a coke habit to pay for?
A booth selling kitchen utensils had a poster emphesizing its belief in faith, family, and country.
Another one sai its products were made "by and for americans, any questions"?
Well, I have a couple questions. Is there a pagan anarchist kitchen utensil company that your competing against? And why are you limiting your market to the United States? Smith would be aghast.
to the cow that was so terrified by my prescence that it shat for a minute straight, I'm sorry.
Dé Sathairn, Meán Fómhair 09, 2006
Weekend News
If I have failed to pimp the House of Awesome on this blog yet, let me just offer my apoligies and say, well, it's all in the title. Also, Billy Knuckles kicks ass. Check out their MySpace page or catch their next show in the Lincoln area.
(I feel so dirty.)
(I feel so dirty.)
Dé hAoine, Meán Fómhair 08, 2006
Tales From the State Fair`
I saw numorous absurdities at the Nebraska State Fair, too many to cover in one post. (It's Friday Night, and I pretend to have a life.) One thing that sticks in my mind, since it came at the end of my visit, was seeing Ms. LaRae Eifert working the state GOP booth in the arts and crafts expo. i noticed her blond power haircut from accross the room. She was the only Republican who ran against two Democrats for the (officially) nonpartisan seat in the state unicam for my district.
My distrct (the 46th) includes both campuses of UNL, the neighborhoods of Havelock, University place/Weslyan U., and various shanties in between. Ms. Eifert lives in the furthest northeast corner of the district, in what is easily the most affluent part. (Not that ther's anything wrong with that...) She told the Lincoln Journal Star that "unlike my opponents, I don't have some liberal agenda." She received the endorsement of the state elephants. (Remember, our statehouse is nonpartisan, all parties can do is endorse). She was also endorsed by Nebraska right to life. In most sections of Nebraska, this would be more than enough to trounce the competition. Unfortunately, a neighborhood full of college students and immigrants seemed strangely unafraid of a liberal agenda. Eifert finished dead last in the primary. So the general election will consist of hot, Democrat-on-Democrat action.
I bring up Miss. Eifert because of what she told me at the fair. I pretended to be a supporter and asked her a couple of questions about the campaign. She said that these days, even in local races, you need the money. This was a strange answer, since all of the candidates (Ms. Eifert and Ms. Carol Brown are small business owners, Ms. Danielle Nantkes is a lawyer) sit on the border line between the middle and upper class. They should have had a similar amount campaign funds. If Eiffert had milked her GOP "endorsement" for all it was worth, she could have even had an advantage in funds.
Perhaps, Ms. Eifert, you just ran into one small, glorious corner of Nebraska who won't buy your bullshit.
My distrct (the 46th) includes both campuses of UNL, the neighborhoods of Havelock, University place/Weslyan U., and various shanties in between. Ms. Eifert lives in the furthest northeast corner of the district, in what is easily the most affluent part. (Not that ther's anything wrong with that...) She told the Lincoln Journal Star that "unlike my opponents, I don't have some liberal agenda." She received the endorsement of the state elephants. (Remember, our statehouse is nonpartisan, all parties can do is endorse). She was also endorsed by Nebraska right to life. In most sections of Nebraska, this would be more than enough to trounce the competition. Unfortunately, a neighborhood full of college students and immigrants seemed strangely unafraid of a liberal agenda. Eifert finished dead last in the primary. So the general election will consist of hot, Democrat-on-Democrat action.
I bring up Miss. Eifert because of what she told me at the fair. I pretended to be a supporter and asked her a couple of questions about the campaign. She said that these days, even in local races, you need the money. This was a strange answer, since all of the candidates (Ms. Eifert and Ms. Carol Brown are small business owners, Ms. Danielle Nantkes is a lawyer) sit on the border line between the middle and upper class. They should have had a similar amount campaign funds. If Eiffert had milked her GOP "endorsement" for all it was worth, she could have even had an advantage in funds.
Perhaps, Ms. Eifert, you just ran into one small, glorious corner of Nebraska who won't buy your bullshit.
Dé Máirt, Meán Fómhair 05, 2006
Goodbye you batshit insane human puppy
I remember watching "Crocidile Hunter" for the first time and thinking "this man will die on television." We all knew he would be killed by a wild animal. But the fact of the matter is that nobody, nobody dies like he did. There have only been 17 people killed by a singray, ever; and it is believed that Irwin's is the first human death-by-stingray to be caught on camera. Just think of it; this is the man who fondeled poisonous snakes, chased giant jungle cats, and offered his infant son to a crocidile as bait. After all this, he meets the statistically impossible end of catching a stingray tail square in the heart. How appropriate, perhaps, even preordained for this walking cartoon of a man. I can only hope that I can find a hobby that is equally as dangerous and amusing. It would be the only thing that can save me from a cliche death of cirrhosis.
Stay strong Terri, Steve has Jesus to protect him from himself now. Come to think of it, she wasn't there when the fatal incident happened, was she? What if? Isn't that the only hell we need?
Goodbye loco Steve
Though I never knew you at all
you had the grace to cream yourself
at the sight of those who crawled
They crawled, out of the swamp
and agents whispered into your brain
They dressed you up in Khakis,
and made you use that stupid slang
And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like dead meat in the tin
Terri wasn't there to save you
when the ray set in
and I would've liked to know you
but I'm just a dud
your candle burned out long after
we ever thought it would
Dé Luain, Meán Fómhair 04, 2006
Sunday
Coffee, heavy food, deep introspection. Silence, most of all the silence. The city that caters to students. It knows we need silence. No buses, low traffic. It's never said out loud. There's no sense in trying to have an economy today. Church bells? I never notice.
But where I come from, It's always quiet. It doesn't carry the meaning, the common understanding, of the quiet here. Blue collar types, they have their days off whenever. They understand weekend, they understand Sunday, but not really. The social functions, the drinking, the work, the drinking, it can come at any time.
So my mother calls on Sundays. It's a good day to call. It's the sabbith, a holy day, a family day. But I want silence. I have my radio at a low buzz. Prairie Home Companion rerun, baseball game, nothing too challenging. Than she calls. "How's dad?" "How are the dogs?" "No, I haven't talked to my sister. Why would I?" "No, there is no special someone, once every few weeks there is a random someone. One was 19 and liked it when I..." "how's grandpa?"
And than it is done. The only sign of hangover is a brain like cement. It will take all day for me to organize what must be done tommorrow.
But where I come from, It's always quiet. It doesn't carry the meaning, the common understanding, of the quiet here. Blue collar types, they have their days off whenever. They understand weekend, they understand Sunday, but not really. The social functions, the drinking, the work, the drinking, it can come at any time.
So my mother calls on Sundays. It's a good day to call. It's the sabbith, a holy day, a family day. But I want silence. I have my radio at a low buzz. Prairie Home Companion rerun, baseball game, nothing too challenging. Than she calls. "How's dad?" "How are the dogs?" "No, I haven't talked to my sister. Why would I?" "No, there is no special someone, once every few weeks there is a random someone. One was 19 and liked it when I..." "how's grandpa?"
And than it is done. The only sign of hangover is a brain like cement. It will take all day for me to organize what must be done tommorrow.
Dé Sathairn, Meán Fómhair 02, 2006
Saturday Caption
Nebraska state Attorney General Jon Bruning was recently forced to mimic a gay sex doll after losing a round of bridge.
Dé hAoine, Meán Fómhair 01, 2006
The Worst Place in Nebraska
Those of us who live in Nebraska often wonder which depraved, knuckle dragging hell hole is the worst. Common sense would tell us that this must be somewhere in the Sandhills; where tiny villages are seperated by 50 miles of grass, ranchers live with delusions of being English aristocracy, and everyone lives under rules that we aren't meant to understand and would do well not to ask about.
A nice wild card would be the Omaha exurbs, say Elkhorn or Gretna. Here we have gentlemen who keep camo-colored hunting equipment in their $20,000, immaculate garages. They might even go hunting one or two days a year, as long as they can take the kids along and pretend that they have any tradition or culture. These are the assholes who keep both talk radio and classic rock radio in business, so that "More Than A Feeling" is actually played more today than when it was on the charts.
It's been said before by smarter people, but baby boomers truly are assholes. Not my parents of course, but everyone else's. The sense of entitlement is obsene. Millions of people who truly believe they earned the $500,000 plastic box they live in, who make a wreck of the future secured for them by their fathers and promised to their children. These West Omaha types, especially, consider themselves country boys. They live in Nebraska after all. Real country boys, however, don't mind driving two hours to get to town. Contrast this with the truly demonic anger seen in the faces of a typical Millard driver stuck in one of Omaha's 10-minute "traffic jams". "Why the fuck does it take so long to get to Ruby Tuesday's? Don't the laws of physics have any idea who I am?"
But where was I?
Aw yes. I'm afraid that not even this concrete and golf course shithole qualifies as the worst place in Nebraska. This would be Falls City, halfway between Kansas City and Omaha in the southeast corner of the state.
First of course, there is the Teena Brandon murders. Who could forget this inspirational stand for traditional values? In fairness, it's not as if John Lotter and Tom Nissen would have been perfectly nonviolent if not for a little intolerance. These are truly fucked up dudes who likely would have slaughtered anyone who went near Lotter's ex-girlfriend. The real black mark to Falls City was the way Brandon was treated by local authorities after he was raped. (Why do you make girls think you're a guy?" "Do you kiss them.?") The sheriff's department, as you know, did nothing to protect Brandon until he and two other people were dead. Local authorities did do a good job of prosecuting the killers. Dead bodies, after all, don't have weird and unnatural desires .
A decade later, it's third world style wedding bells. Yes, the Koso wedding, in which a 21 year old married his pregnant, pubesicent sweetheart. It might have been the biggest news in the state during the second half of last year. And why not? There was controversy, after all, about whether or not the elder Koso should go to jail.
What's that you say? "Why the hell was there any controversy? He's a fucking child molestor!" Calm down. You see, marriage means something round these here parts. Many of the Koso's family and neighbors were angered that a man would be locked up by the state instead of being left alone to take care of his family. True, most of these same people would be loudly demanding his execution if he buggered a 13-year old boy. True, you can bet your Cadillac that everyone in Falls City voted for DOMA, so that two 40-year-old gay lovers can't get so much as common dental insurance in this state. What can I say? Marriage means something around these parts. Our purpose in life, especially for a female, is to reproduce and fullfill our natural gender roles. So what if little Peggy got a head start? What else was she going to do, go to college? Tut, tut. Mothers who send their daughters to college will never be grandmothers. They just end up with bitter ungrateful socialists who can't even make it back to Falls City for Christmas.
Now we have the story of an unfortunate incident with Falls City police. For a change, , this story doesn't involve ignorance, intolerance, or inbreeding, just stupidity.
It involved the arrest of one Ann Marx, a middle aged woman with a pill problem. The local authorities somehow got word that she was planning to score some blues from a Falls City nursing home resident.
So naturally, they treated this border-line felony as if it was bin Laden trading coke for favors at the local grade school. They hid behind bushes, and talked code to each other in that real cool cop talk. When Marx emerged, they swooped down with guns drawn. For reasons that aren't entirely clear, a deputy named Tom Landis fired his gun into Marx's head and killed her. (Case under investigation, details suspisciously hazy.) The case has been more complicated by the grandstanding of state Attorney General Jon Bruning, who overdramatized a routine gag order from a local judge.
But none of this is important. The important thing is that Falls City is safe from a shifty Xanex head. "You know, they got drugs up there in the city, they sell drugs. Good thing Sheriff nipped this thing in the bud"
Worst place in Neb... the entire Midwest.
A nice wild card would be the Omaha exurbs, say Elkhorn or Gretna. Here we have gentlemen who keep camo-colored hunting equipment in their $20,000, immaculate garages. They might even go hunting one or two days a year, as long as they can take the kids along and pretend that they have any tradition or culture. These are the assholes who keep both talk radio and classic rock radio in business, so that "More Than A Feeling" is actually played more today than when it was on the charts.
It's been said before by smarter people, but baby boomers truly are assholes. Not my parents of course, but everyone else's. The sense of entitlement is obsene. Millions of people who truly believe they earned the $500,000 plastic box they live in, who make a wreck of the future secured for them by their fathers and promised to their children. These West Omaha types, especially, consider themselves country boys. They live in Nebraska after all. Real country boys, however, don't mind driving two hours to get to town. Contrast this with the truly demonic anger seen in the faces of a typical Millard driver stuck in one of Omaha's 10-minute "traffic jams". "Why the fuck does it take so long to get to Ruby Tuesday's? Don't the laws of physics have any idea who I am?"
But where was I?
Aw yes. I'm afraid that not even this concrete and golf course shithole qualifies as the worst place in Nebraska. This would be Falls City, halfway between Kansas City and Omaha in the southeast corner of the state.
First of course, there is the Teena Brandon murders. Who could forget this inspirational stand for traditional values? In fairness, it's not as if John Lotter and Tom Nissen would have been perfectly nonviolent if not for a little intolerance. These are truly fucked up dudes who likely would have slaughtered anyone who went near Lotter's ex-girlfriend. The real black mark to Falls City was the way Brandon was treated by local authorities after he was raped. (Why do you make girls think you're a guy?" "Do you kiss them.?") The sheriff's department, as you know, did nothing to protect Brandon until he and two other people were dead. Local authorities did do a good job of prosecuting the killers. Dead bodies, after all, don't have weird and unnatural desires .
A decade later, it's third world style wedding bells. Yes, the Koso wedding, in which a 21 year old married his pregnant, pubesicent sweetheart. It might have been the biggest news in the state during the second half of last year. And why not? There was controversy, after all, about whether or not the elder Koso should go to jail.
What's that you say? "Why the hell was there any controversy? He's a fucking child molestor!" Calm down. You see, marriage means something round these here parts. Many of the Koso's family and neighbors were angered that a man would be locked up by the state instead of being left alone to take care of his family. True, most of these same people would be loudly demanding his execution if he buggered a 13-year old boy. True, you can bet your Cadillac that everyone in Falls City voted for DOMA, so that two 40-year-old gay lovers can't get so much as common dental insurance in this state. What can I say? Marriage means something around these parts. Our purpose in life, especially for a female, is to reproduce and fullfill our natural gender roles. So what if little Peggy got a head start? What else was she going to do, go to college? Tut, tut. Mothers who send their daughters to college will never be grandmothers. They just end up with bitter ungrateful socialists who can't even make it back to Falls City for Christmas.
Now we have the story of an unfortunate incident with Falls City police. For a change, , this story doesn't involve ignorance, intolerance, or inbreeding, just stupidity.
It involved the arrest of one Ann Marx, a middle aged woman with a pill problem. The local authorities somehow got word that she was planning to score some blues from a Falls City nursing home resident.
So naturally, they treated this border-line felony as if it was bin Laden trading coke for favors at the local grade school. They hid behind bushes, and talked code to each other in that real cool cop talk. When Marx emerged, they swooped down with guns drawn. For reasons that aren't entirely clear, a deputy named Tom Landis fired his gun into Marx's head and killed her. (Case under investigation, details suspisciously hazy.) The case has been more complicated by the grandstanding of state Attorney General Jon Bruning, who overdramatized a routine gag order from a local judge.
But none of this is important. The important thing is that Falls City is safe from a shifty Xanex head. "You know, they got drugs up there in the city, they sell drugs. Good thing Sheriff nipped this thing in the bud"
Worst place in Neb... the entire Midwest.
Dé Céadaoin, Lúnasa 30, 2006
Leave it To Fox News
Fox News "War On Christmas" dipshit John Gibson has come out in defense of media obssesion with the Jon-Benet Ramsey murder case. Give him and Fox credit for addresing the controversy. All of the high brow media sources, (NPR, NYT) have also been sucked into the hype, and have chosen to defend their reputations by pretending that there is no controversy about it. For once, let's raise a glass to the pseudo-populists. Now lets get to the bigger problem.
"I think the no. 1 issue to people in this country of all races, both genders, and all economic backgrounds is their children. Here we've got a guy who is an admitted pedophile, who can be hear literally drooling over the thought of luscious little JonBenet." Gibson
All true enough. But human beings are not symbols. JonBenet Ramsey does not represent all children, all child murder victims, or even the general vulnerability of children. To continue to present her as such, now that she has been dead longer than she lived, is an unforgivible insult. As it is unforgivible to make a symbol out of anyone who was once a living individual; with sovereign feelings and concerns that probably didn't have a thing to do with yours.
Let's not think for a minute that the Ramsey case is purely altruistic. Human beings are still mostly animals, after all, and the only death that an animal can conceive of is being eaten by a predator. We humans know that we will die. Yet we still have a hard time understanding what that really means unless someone dies at the hands of a human "predator, be it a terrorist, sex offender, or random thug. The media know that these stories will attract our attention, and that our attention will attract advertisers. This is why a poor girl who was murdered last decade gets more attention than the millions of children who are dying of cancer, AIDS, or starvation right now.
This contributes to some disasterous real world effects. Tax money spent on weapons and prisons, when more lives would be saved if it were spent on hospitals and research. Parents investing in guns instead of doctors and healthy food for their kids. We have created a society where we are taught that the biggest thing we have to fear is each other. Needless to say, this does not create a society where people are willing to help each other. Instead, some have turned to the very law of the jungle that our species has spent a million years trying to escape. A Mad Max fantasy land where government serves no purpose beyond interfering with a man's ability to defend his tribe.
"I think the no. 1 issue to people in this country of all races, both genders, and all economic backgrounds is their children. Here we've got a guy who is an admitted pedophile, who can be hear literally drooling over the thought of luscious little JonBenet." Gibson
All true enough. But human beings are not symbols. JonBenet Ramsey does not represent all children, all child murder victims, or even the general vulnerability of children. To continue to present her as such, now that she has been dead longer than she lived, is an unforgivible insult. As it is unforgivible to make a symbol out of anyone who was once a living individual; with sovereign feelings and concerns that probably didn't have a thing to do with yours.
Let's not think for a minute that the Ramsey case is purely altruistic. Human beings are still mostly animals, after all, and the only death that an animal can conceive of is being eaten by a predator. We humans know that we will die. Yet we still have a hard time understanding what that really means unless someone dies at the hands of a human "predator, be it a terrorist, sex offender, or random thug. The media know that these stories will attract our attention, and that our attention will attract advertisers. This is why a poor girl who was murdered last decade gets more attention than the millions of children who are dying of cancer, AIDS, or starvation right now.
This contributes to some disasterous real world effects. Tax money spent on weapons and prisons, when more lives would be saved if it were spent on hospitals and research. Parents investing in guns instead of doctors and healthy food for their kids. We have created a society where we are taught that the biggest thing we have to fear is each other. Needless to say, this does not create a society where people are willing to help each other. Instead, some have turned to the very law of the jungle that our species has spent a million years trying to escape. A Mad Max fantasy land where government serves no purpose beyond interfering with a man's ability to defend his tribe.
Dé Máirt, Lúnasa 29, 2006
RIP Vashti McCollum
This is the hero who died last week at 93. Back in 1948, she went to the Supreme Court to force her children's school district to stop forcing its students to take classes on their particular religion. The vote was 8-1 in her favor. What would the vote be today? Don't ask. These classes were, of course, strictly(cough) neutral (cough). Of course, the Protestants got to take their classes on school property, while Jews and Catholics had to go to buildings off campus. (Society has gotten more complex since then, I shudder to think where they would ship the Muslims off to today.) The Champaign Illinois School District justified this on the grounds that since they were promoting all religions (cough) it was acceptible. Mc'Collum had the gall to say that athiests and agnostics were, under the law, equal in dignity to Christians, Jews, and the rest. Therefore, since the country was founded on freedom of, and yes, even freedom from, religion, it was better not to say anything about religion in schools at all.
There are amusing moments in the NYT obituary. During the first trial, Mrs. Mc'Collum's father elicited gasps from the entire courtroom when he said he didn't believe in God. As a lapse Diest, I have no idea what it feels like to be shocked, shocked!, by someones nonbelief. Maybe I hang out with the beautiful people too much.
There are also outrages. Mc'Collums house was vandalized. Her children were bullied. They all received death threats. Courtesy of Good Christian types, who realize that God is very sensitive and feels really bad unless everybody is praying to him in a precisely correct manner. While he's desparing over being stood up by an uppity mortal, he's totally incapible of taking care of himself. He won't be okay again until we give him a few days with some scented candles, six pints of ice cream, and his trusty Carol King cd's. That leaves it up to the true believers to defend his honor, by any means neccessary.
These are the mental ancestors of today's right wing. Those who claim to be unaffected by political correctness. Those who claim to understand better than us filthy libs how much more enlightened Western society is than the Middle East. Since we are so much more enlightened and free than the Muslims, we must force all Americans to believe in the same things so that we may have the strength to crush the infidel.
Come back Vashti. We need you.
Dé Luain, Lúnasa 28, 2006
Dé Sathairn, Lúnasa 26, 2006
Some of those who work Forces
I'm sure the headline has been used elsewhere on the net in regards to this story, but I just find it irrisistible. Robert Henderson, a state patrolman out of Omaha, is a member of the KKK. (Technically, the "knights party") You can read all about it at journalstar.com or virtually any other source of Nebraska news.
Henderson was fired in the spring when his after-hours activities were revealed. Unfortunatly, he got a lawyer and went to court to keep his job. A New York arbiter decided that firing him for his klan ties violated his freedom of association rights, and he's back on the job.
Needless to say, this has not gone over well with elected officials. Attorney General Bruning (fairly honest and decent by Republican standards) is appealing the decision. It goes without saying that this would be bad for the image of any state, especially an overwhelmingly white and rural state with an authoritarian streak. State officials must at least try to get this bastard kicked off of the force, the people of Nebraska will not suffer embarssment.
On the other hand, Henderson's freedom of association claims should not be taken lightly. I'm sure there's four or five cops somewhere in the world who are members of the Socialist Workers Party, and most small-town Sheriffs would never allow such types on their force if they weren't forced to. And of course being a member of the KKK should not get one fired from the local Gas n Go.
But being a member of a government force is different from working in civil society. Military men and women have restrictions on their freedom of speech, association, and movement that the rest of us would never tolerate. The nature of the job, requiring strict obediance and coordination, simply doesn't allow it.
Police work requires objectivity. Not the unattainable journalistic dream, but real objectivity. A cop must examine evidence without making any assumptions on where it will lead. A cop must listen to conflicting stories without thinking that the one who was "one of them" is the one who is lying. Racism is a belief in automatic, unchangeable, inferiority and superiority. This makes it more unAmerican than Facism, Communism, soccer, or any other crack pot doctrine. Allowing police to have this much freedom of association threatens freedom for the rest of us.
On a lighter note, Henderson was driven to the KKK after his wife ran off with a Hispanic man in 2003. Isn't thisjust what any mature adult would do? I can only guess that he must be trying to win the gold in the pathetic olympics.
Hago que su esposa gime como una reina del prom.
Contrary to what some might expece, Senator Chambers has not reacted to the news with massive hyperventilations.
"To have an individual who has associated himself with an organization having a history of lynching, bombings, burnings, racial violence, hatred-not only against black people but Jews and other groups they detest and think have no right to be on the face of the earth-is totally unacceptable.
Sounds damned reasonable to me, Chambers doesn't even seem to be that surprised.
My middle school once hosted a state trooper who spoke with clear longing of a time when applicants could be turned down for being gay. Some years later I saw him berating Tim Butz, the old director of the state ACLU for showing a film on the Patriot Act and "stiring up trouble in a small town"
I don't find this news very surprising myself.
Dé hAoine, Lúnasa 25, 2006
8-3, at best
Perhaps they will have the honor of being throtled in the Holiday Bowl. Otherwise don't expect much. Somebody calm the rabble down before things get ugly.
Déardaoin, Lúnasa 24, 2006
Brainard Daily Dispatch, Aug. 8, 1945
I found this while aimlessly wondering the internet and found it interesting. For one thing, this is clearly the pre-television era. This small town newspaper has more text than the modern New York Times. I wonder what it must have been like to have a functioning attention span.
I also appreciate the high standard of jounalistic objectivity. The annihilation of the filthy Japs is reported without any hint of political spin. If only the Liberal media stopped causing problems for our government. We are at war, and the press should get back to its real job, constantly reinforcing our moral rightousness.
TO Serve as Best we Can, For Victory!
Dé Céadaoin, Lúnasa 23, 2006
School so Far
Just once, I would like to go through a semester in which I don't have a single class where the prof goes around the room and has everybody introduce themselves and "tell everybody something about yourself" I prefer to be a social hermit during the work week and only come out when the females get very friendly. what happened to professional distance? I want professors who can read about my death and not care. When I ask about an assignment, I want the first response to be "I'm sorry, who were you again?" Why the hell else am I paying to go to a large university if not to be just another worker ant, free to passive-aggressively subvert things without gaining too much notice?
Dé Máirt, Lúnasa 22, 2006
Nuclear War On September 12th, everyone invited.
The House Of Yahweh (www.yahweh.com) is a rather interesting little religious sect. I won't call them a cult, because they are not. They really aren't any crazier than the more enthusiastic Pentacostal sects, just more Jewish.
They do believe that Jesus (excuse me, Yeshhua) was the son of God(Yahwah, sorry.) and the messiah; and also that he rose from the dead. But their are little differences. They believe he was executed on a Wednesday instead of Friday, and that he was hung on a straight pole instead of a cross. Why do they consider these differences important? Well, they're kind of vague about that. By the way, Jesus isn't divine either, just the son of God.
They are especially big on clensing true monotheism of Pagan influences. This means no Halloween, no Easter, no Christmas, which they have correctly surmised are nothing but inventions of pagan (European) holidays retrofitted into Christianity. They do celebrate Passover, Yom Kipper, etc. (No word on Haunakah) They also insist on using the original Hebrew when refering to God, Jesus, or any biblical prophets. Any other common name for the diety is spawned from European (pagan) sources and therefore bad. They seem very confident that their grasp of aincient Hebrew is better than everybody else's. This is questionable, but never mind.
All in all, nothing remarkible, certainly nothing dangerous. There is no reason why these people should not be allowed to keep kosher in peace. Even better, they are in the minority. Therefore they are used to being surrounded by people who disagree with them. This certainly gives them a leg up on the country WASP.
But than they had to go and pull this shit. On Sunday night, a very well dressed and polite man handed a HOY newsletter to random students in the NU student union. I was one of them. We all accepted the free gift in a polite Midwestern manner, complete with thank you sirs. Even those who spent five minutes mocking the contents before throwing the letter away included the sir.
In this letter, the sect's leader, Yisrayl Hawkins predicts that nuclear war will start on September 12, 2006. He bases his prophecy on several biblical passages describing unspecific catastrophes of one type or another. Needless to say, there are no specific dates given in any of the cited verses. Hawkins believes that the end is coming soon because this is "the greatest time of sin and trouble ever." No one who understands what went down between 1900 and 1945 would say such a thing.
Worst of all, Hawkins doesn't give any advice on what we should do about the coming apocolypse. He simply says his followers have a sacred duty to warn the world. Very well, I appreciate your warning and take it under advisement. What should I do about it? Does your group have any mandate to save the mortal skins of nonbelievers? Because otherwise, I can't just jump onto your bandwagon now. It's a matter of integrity, you understand. Better to burn in hell and stay honest. Plus, there is the simple fact that I just don't believe you. If you really convinced me, I would drop out of school and spend my life savings on a homewrecker of Hennesey and three top shelf, Las Vegas hookers. Now imagine if I do that and you turn out to be wrong. You really should be more careful (and specific) about predicting the end of the world.
It's just sad how a sect so unique could stoop to the old nutcase cliche of setting a specific date for the end of the world. There are, of course, several sects in every religion who are entirely concerned with the creation and destruction myths of their respective faiths to the exclusion of the moral meat. But the HOY should be too young and obscure for that. They're not even well known enough to be villified for being "outside the mainstream" yet. Really Hawkins! "The end is nigh!" How tragically bland, like Gandalf singing Amazing Grace over shitty canned organ music.
They do believe that Jesus (excuse me, Yeshhua) was the son of God(Yahwah, sorry.) and the messiah; and also that he rose from the dead. But their are little differences. They believe he was executed on a Wednesday instead of Friday, and that he was hung on a straight pole instead of a cross. Why do they consider these differences important? Well, they're kind of vague about that. By the way, Jesus isn't divine either, just the son of God.
They are especially big on clensing true monotheism of Pagan influences. This means no Halloween, no Easter, no Christmas, which they have correctly surmised are nothing but inventions of pagan (European) holidays retrofitted into Christianity. They do celebrate Passover, Yom Kipper, etc. (No word on Haunakah) They also insist on using the original Hebrew when refering to God, Jesus, or any biblical prophets. Any other common name for the diety is spawned from European (pagan) sources and therefore bad. They seem very confident that their grasp of aincient Hebrew is better than everybody else's. This is questionable, but never mind.
All in all, nothing remarkible, certainly nothing dangerous. There is no reason why these people should not be allowed to keep kosher in peace. Even better, they are in the minority. Therefore they are used to being surrounded by people who disagree with them. This certainly gives them a leg up on the country WASP.
But than they had to go and pull this shit. On Sunday night, a very well dressed and polite man handed a HOY newsletter to random students in the NU student union. I was one of them. We all accepted the free gift in a polite Midwestern manner, complete with thank you sirs. Even those who spent five minutes mocking the contents before throwing the letter away included the sir.
In this letter, the sect's leader, Yisrayl Hawkins predicts that nuclear war will start on September 12, 2006. He bases his prophecy on several biblical passages describing unspecific catastrophes of one type or another. Needless to say, there are no specific dates given in any of the cited verses. Hawkins believes that the end is coming soon because this is "the greatest time of sin and trouble ever." No one who understands what went down between 1900 and 1945 would say such a thing.
Worst of all, Hawkins doesn't give any advice on what we should do about the coming apocolypse. He simply says his followers have a sacred duty to warn the world. Very well, I appreciate your warning and take it under advisement. What should I do about it? Does your group have any mandate to save the mortal skins of nonbelievers? Because otherwise, I can't just jump onto your bandwagon now. It's a matter of integrity, you understand. Better to burn in hell and stay honest. Plus, there is the simple fact that I just don't believe you. If you really convinced me, I would drop out of school and spend my life savings on a homewrecker of Hennesey and three top shelf, Las Vegas hookers. Now imagine if I do that and you turn out to be wrong. You really should be more careful (and specific) about predicting the end of the world.
It's just sad how a sect so unique could stoop to the old nutcase cliche of setting a specific date for the end of the world. There are, of course, several sects in every religion who are entirely concerned with the creation and destruction myths of their respective faiths to the exclusion of the moral meat. But the HOY should be too young and obscure for that. They're not even well known enough to be villified for being "outside the mainstream" yet. Really Hawkins! "The end is nigh!" How tragically bland, like Gandalf singing Amazing Grace over shitty canned organ music.
Dé Luain, Lúnasa 21, 2006
Fight Songs: Big 12 Edition
Ah yes, the heartland itself, with the exception of Texas and Colorado, full of states without either truly huge cities or major league teams. A land of traditional values, where reasonably intelligent adults actually expect the college teams to act as male role models for their children and even themselves. come with me and take a big, unguarded step into some Great Plains culture.
Oklahoma
Boomer Sooner!
Boomer Sooner!
Boomer Sooner!
(And So On)
Oklahoma, Oklahoma, Oklahoma Okla....
(I am not kidding)
I'm A Sooner Born
I'm a Sooner Bred
And When I Die
I'll Be Sooner Dead
Rah Oklahoma, Rah Oklahoma!
Rah Oklahoma! OKU!
Well, I was pretty rude to Texas A&M for their needlessly elaborate fight song, so I guess I have no room to complain about this one. I'm sure there's at least a few graduates of Ou with a vocabulary in the dozens.
Oklahoma State
Oklahoma State! Oklahoma State!
We'll Sing Your Praise Tonight
To let you Know, Wherever We Go
For the Orange And Black We'll fight
We'll Sing your worth all over the earth
And Shout K! Y! K! YE!
In Books of Fame we'll right your name
Oklahoma State!
This is fairly typical. Cult-like promises of loyalty mixed with gibberish. Along with a typical midwestern pledge to assualt anyone who cheers for the wrong team. But the real comedy gold comes from OSU's touchdown song.
Ride-em cowboys ee-yah!
Ride-em cowboys ee-yah
Ride, Ride, Ride, Ride, Ride
Ride Em Cowboys Down The Field
Fight, Fight, fight, Fight,
Fight em Cowboys and never yield
Ride, Ride, Ride, Ride
Ride on Cowboys to Victory
Cross..... goal
Than We'll Sing
Oklahoma State!
Damn. No wonder you sing their praises at night. It's good to see that OSU has returned to a nice, hard, driving, straining running offense.
Kansas State
Fight, you K-State Wildcats
For your Alma-Mater, Fight, Fight, Fight!
Glory In the Combat!
For the Purple and White
Faithful to Our Colors,
We Shall ever Be
Fighting, Ever fighting
For A Wildcat Victory. Go State!
Here we see facism at its most extreme and destructive. Making war not in the name of racial, national, or religious supremecy, but as an end unto itself. "Glory in the combat." Truly horrifying.
Last, but not least, my humble lair...
Nebraska
There is no Place like Nebraska
Good Old Nebraska U!
The girls are The Fairest
The Boys are the squarest
Of Any old Place that I knew
There is no place like Nebraska
Where they're all true blue
We'll all stick toghether
In all kinds of weather
For good o Nebraska U!
Now isn't that just like a glass of lemonade after an oppresive summer's day? The pledge of loyalty is adequate yet mild. No oaths to "eternal loyalty" or "glory in the combat" This ditty conjures up images of the turn of the 20th century. Just relaxing with one's subservient virgin girlfriend and watching the local 11 cast off the foreign barbarians. Lovely, just lovely.
I may cover other leagues as football season rolls along. But as of now, my mind grows restless.
Oklahoma
Boomer Sooner!
Boomer Sooner!
Boomer Sooner!
(And So On)
Oklahoma, Oklahoma, Oklahoma Okla....
(I am not kidding)
I'm A Sooner Born
I'm a Sooner Bred
And When I Die
I'll Be Sooner Dead
Rah Oklahoma, Rah Oklahoma!
Rah Oklahoma! OKU!
Well, I was pretty rude to Texas A&M for their needlessly elaborate fight song, so I guess I have no room to complain about this one. I'm sure there's at least a few graduates of Ou with a vocabulary in the dozens.
Oklahoma State
Oklahoma State! Oklahoma State!
We'll Sing Your Praise Tonight
To let you Know, Wherever We Go
For the Orange And Black We'll fight
We'll Sing your worth all over the earth
And Shout K! Y! K! YE!
In Books of Fame we'll right your name
Oklahoma State!
This is fairly typical. Cult-like promises of loyalty mixed with gibberish. Along with a typical midwestern pledge to assualt anyone who cheers for the wrong team. But the real comedy gold comes from OSU's touchdown song.
Ride-em cowboys ee-yah!
Ride-em cowboys ee-yah
Ride, Ride, Ride, Ride, Ride
Ride Em Cowboys Down The Field
Fight, Fight, fight, Fight,
Fight em Cowboys and never yield
Ride, Ride, Ride, Ride
Ride on Cowboys to Victory
Cross..... goal
Than We'll Sing
Oklahoma State!
Damn. No wonder you sing their praises at night. It's good to see that OSU has returned to a nice, hard, driving, straining running offense.
Kansas State
Fight, you K-State Wildcats
For your Alma-Mater, Fight, Fight, Fight!
Glory In the Combat!
For the Purple and White
Faithful to Our Colors,
We Shall ever Be
Fighting, Ever fighting
For A Wildcat Victory. Go State!
Here we see facism at its most extreme and destructive. Making war not in the name of racial, national, or religious supremecy, but as an end unto itself. "Glory in the combat." Truly horrifying.
Last, but not least, my humble lair...
Nebraska
There is no Place like Nebraska
Good Old Nebraska U!
The girls are The Fairest
The Boys are the squarest
Of Any old Place that I knew
There is no place like Nebraska
Where they're all true blue
We'll all stick toghether
In all kinds of weather
For good o Nebraska U!
Now isn't that just like a glass of lemonade after an oppresive summer's day? The pledge of loyalty is adequate yet mild. No oaths to "eternal loyalty" or "glory in the combat" This ditty conjures up images of the turn of the 20th century. Just relaxing with one's subservient virgin girlfriend and watching the local 11 cast off the foreign barbarians. Lovely, just lovely.
I may cover other leagues as football season rolls along. But as of now, my mind grows restless.
Dé Domhnaigh, Lúnasa 20, 2006
BigredWelcomeWrapup
There are now over 135 student Christian organizations on the UNL campus. I am sure there is some overlap in membership along with some obscure breakaway Unitarian sects that have only three members and exist only on the UNL campus. The shame of it is that these were the only booths giving away worthwhile free shit. I couldn't take any of it, since they of course required you to sign up to an e-mail list- and than they would know me.
Planned Parenthood didn't have any condoms this year, which is a damn shame. Than again, I showed up late, and I only live a few blocks from the actual office. Damned fine organization. Old Chicago pizza tasted like free. It will probably be the last time I ever have Old Chicago pizza. My superior taste in beer is well known and I have no need to spend forty dollars to make a point.
Finally, I actually heard a DJ for one of the local commercial stations (FM107something) actually promise the crowd to keep things crunk. This was followed by the most derivative rap act since PDiddy's hay day. I'd have to say this was the highlight of the day.
Planned Parenthood didn't have any condoms this year, which is a damn shame. Than again, I showed up late, and I only live a few blocks from the actual office. Damned fine organization. Old Chicago pizza tasted like free. It will probably be the last time I ever have Old Chicago pizza. My superior taste in beer is well known and I have no need to spend forty dollars to make a point.
Finally, I actually heard a DJ for one of the local commercial stations (FM107something) actually promise the crowd to keep things crunk. This was followed by the most derivative rap act since PDiddy's hay day. I'd have to say this was the highlight of the day.
Dé Sathairn, Lúnasa 19, 2006
To William Callahan: RE: INVITE
Let's get the most obvious problem out of the way here. You arn't my coach. In the unlikely event that we ever meet personally, you will refer to yourself as Mr. Callahan. Second of all, all practices should be free, what gives you the slightest idea that I would find mechanized men attacking dummies to be the slightest bit entertaining. I'm sure you'll attract a fair share of the crowd that thinks that the weekend starts at noon on Thursday, but no one who is actually going to graduate is going to watch a practice. Finally, how dare you send me a generic form letter? Do you have any idea who I am?
Dé hAoine, Lúnasa 18, 2006
Fight Songs: SEC Edition
Auburn
War.... Eagle, Fly Down The Field
Ever To Conquer, Never To Yield
War Eagle, Fearless and True
Fight On, You Orange And Blue
Go! Go! Go!
On To Vic'try, Strike Up The Band
Give Em Hell, Give Em Hell
Stand Up And Yell.. Hey!
War Eagle, Win For Auburn
Power Of Dixie Land
Here we have one of the more awkward single lines. (Stand up and yell, hey!) In fact the whole song descends into non-rhyming curses and shouts for a while. We also have the most overt football-is-war motif I've seen so far. I have no idea why people in "Dixieland" are so martial. Their record still sits on 0-1 the last I heard.
Florida
So Give A Cheer For Orange and blue
Waving Forever
Forever Pride Of Old Florida
May She Droop Never
We'll Sing A song For The Flag Today
Cheer For The Team At Play
On To The Goal We'll Fight Our Way
For Florida
At least they acknowledge that the team is only playing. Their zeal toward their state is a little disturbing though, especially considering their history. You people will droop your flag in the presence of stars and stripes or else.
Tennessee
Now I See The Importance Of History
Why People Be In The Mess They Be
Many Journeys To Freedom Made In Vain
My Brothers On The Corner Playing Ghetto Games
I Ask You Lord Why You Enlightened Me
Without The Enlightenment Of All My Folks
He said Cuz I set Myself On A quest For Truth
And He was There To Quench My Thirst
But I am Still Thirsty...
The Lord Allowed Me To Drink Some More
He Said What I Am Searchin For Are
The Answers To All Which Are In Front of Me
The Ultimate Truth Started To Get Blurry
For Some Strange Reason It Just Had to Be
It Was All A Dream About Tennessee
Take Me to Another Place
Take Me to Another Land
Make Me Forget All That Hurts Me
Let Me Understand Your Plan
This one is decidedly more haunting and downbeat than the typical fight song. It artfully reflects the despair felt by the children of the civil rights movement as they came of age in the early nineties and saw how much work remained to be done. I applaud the University of Tennessee for their social consciousness.
Vanderbelt
Dynamite! Dynamite!
When Vandy Starts To Fight
Down The Field With Blood To Shield
If Need Be Save The Shield
If Victory's won when battle's Done
Than Vandy's Name Will Rise In Fame
Win Or Lose The Fates Will Choose
But Vandy's game Will Be The Same
Dynamite! Dynamite!
When Vandy Starts To Fight
V-A-N-D-Y- Vandy, Vandy, Go, Go, Go
Take a close look at this song. I have never seen more blatant Jihadist propaganda. It's called "Dynamite" and the title is repeated frequently. It is utterly fatalistic. Fate (or should I say Allah) will decide who wins and who loses, but as long as the enemy bleeds, it will all be o.k. Save the shield indeed. It will hardly do you any good when your flying in twenty different directions. We must invade Vanderbelt, kill its leaders, and convert the students to Christianity.
War.... Eagle, Fly Down The Field
Ever To Conquer, Never To Yield
War Eagle, Fearless and True
Fight On, You Orange And Blue
Go! Go! Go!
On To Vic'try, Strike Up The Band
Give Em Hell, Give Em Hell
Stand Up And Yell.. Hey!
War Eagle, Win For Auburn
Power Of Dixie Land
Here we have one of the more awkward single lines. (Stand up and yell, hey!) In fact the whole song descends into non-rhyming curses and shouts for a while. We also have the most overt football-is-war motif I've seen so far. I have no idea why people in "Dixieland" are so martial. Their record still sits on 0-1 the last I heard.
Florida
So Give A Cheer For Orange and blue
Waving Forever
Forever Pride Of Old Florida
May She Droop Never
We'll Sing A song For The Flag Today
Cheer For The Team At Play
On To The Goal We'll Fight Our Way
For Florida
At least they acknowledge that the team is only playing. Their zeal toward their state is a little disturbing though, especially considering their history. You people will droop your flag in the presence of stars and stripes or else.
Tennessee
Now I See The Importance Of History
Why People Be In The Mess They Be
Many Journeys To Freedom Made In Vain
My Brothers On The Corner Playing Ghetto Games
I Ask You Lord Why You Enlightened Me
Without The Enlightenment Of All My Folks
He said Cuz I set Myself On A quest For Truth
And He was There To Quench My Thirst
But I am Still Thirsty...
The Lord Allowed Me To Drink Some More
He Said What I Am Searchin For Are
The Answers To All Which Are In Front of Me
The Ultimate Truth Started To Get Blurry
For Some Strange Reason It Just Had to Be
It Was All A Dream About Tennessee
Take Me to Another Place
Take Me to Another Land
Make Me Forget All That Hurts Me
Let Me Understand Your Plan
This one is decidedly more haunting and downbeat than the typical fight song. It artfully reflects the despair felt by the children of the civil rights movement as they came of age in the early nineties and saw how much work remained to be done. I applaud the University of Tennessee for their social consciousness.
Vanderbelt
Dynamite! Dynamite!
When Vandy Starts To Fight
Down The Field With Blood To Shield
If Need Be Save The Shield
If Victory's won when battle's Done
Than Vandy's Name Will Rise In Fame
Win Or Lose The Fates Will Choose
But Vandy's game Will Be The Same
Dynamite! Dynamite!
When Vandy Starts To Fight
V-A-N-D-Y- Vandy, Vandy, Go, Go, Go
Take a close look at this song. I have never seen more blatant Jihadist propaganda. It's called "Dynamite" and the title is repeated frequently. It is utterly fatalistic. Fate (or should I say Allah) will decide who wins and who loses, but as long as the enemy bleeds, it will all be o.k. Save the shield indeed. It will hardly do you any good when your flying in twenty different directions. We must invade Vanderbelt, kill its leaders, and convert the students to Christianity.
Déardaoin, Lúnasa 17, 2006
Back To School Special: Texas Fight Songs
I've Decided To Spend the Next Few Days Highlighting Selected College Fight Songs Based. Those With the most anachronistic slang or most overtly fascist overtones are more likely to get posted. This makes Texas a good place to start.
Tarleton State
On Ye Tareleton
On Ye Tareleton
Break Right Through That Line
Ever Forward, Ever Onward
We'll Get There or Die
On Ye Tareleton, On Ye Tarleton
Fight For Victory
Fight, Texans. Fight! Fight! Fight!
And Win This Game
You'll never win the game if you kill yourselves every time you have to punt.
TCU
We'll Raise A Song, Both Loud and Long
To Cheer Our Team To Victory
For TCU, So Tried And True
We Pledge Eternal Loyalty
Fight On Boys, Fight With All Your Might
Roll Up The Scores For TCU
Hail White And Purple Flag
Whose Heroes Never Lag
Horned Frogs, We our All For You
Coach has just declared himself dictator for life? We pledge eternal loyalty.
Texas A&M
Hullabaloo! Caneck! Caneck!
Hullabaloo! Caneck! Caneck!
All Hail To Dear Old Texas A&M
Rally Round The Maroon and White
Good Luck to The Dear Old Texas Aggies
They are the boys who Show the Real old Fight
That Good Old Aggie Spirit Thrills Us
And Makes Us Yell and Yell and Yell
So Let's Fight for Dear Old Texas A&M
We're Going To Beat You All To
Chig-Gar-roo-gar-rem!
Chig-Gar-Roo-gar-rem
Rough! Tough! Real Stuff! Texas A&M!
Hulabaloo! Caneck! (Etc)
Good-bye To Texas University
Goodbye To the Orange and White
Good Luck To the Dear old Texas Aggies
They are the Boys Who SHow The Real Old fight
"The Eyes of Texas are Upon You"
This is The Song They Sing So Well
So Goodbye Texas University
We're Going To Beat You all To
Chig-Gar-Roo-Gar-Rem
Chig-Gar-Roo-Gar-Rem
Real Tough! Real Stuff! Texas A&M!
Saw Varsity's Horns Off (Repeat 3x)
Short! AYYYY!
Varsity's Horns are Sawed Off (Repeat 3x)
Short! AYYYY!
1. Here we see Texas-sized egos in play. Fight songs are supposed to be short and simple, not complete with multiple verses and choruses.
2. I believe this song was written by an Ewok who spoke English as a second language. Chig-Gar-Roo-Gar-Rem bitches.
3. The football team plays 11 games a year. Why the obssession with UT? College rivalries are not cute. They are not quaint. They are provencial horseshit, plain and simple. Yes, I know that your big rivalry is a sacred tradition that I just don't understand. Well, that's because there is nothing to understand. Nothing except Victorian era gender indoctrination; strapping young men filled with the martial spirit by their common hatred of the other. In the modern age, this spirit reflects itself through burned couches and slightly more rape victims than a normal weekend. Hail varsity!
The University of Facsist Athletic Department Surrounded by A Pretty Cool Town
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
And It's GoodBye to A&M
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
And We'll Put Over one More Win!
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
For It's Texas That We Love Best!
Hail! Hail! The Gang's All Here!
And It's Goodbye To All The Rest
Yea Orange! Yea White!
Yea Longhorns! Fight! Fight! Fight!
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
Yea Texas Fight!
Texas Fight! Tex.. (Moving Along Here)
The Eyes Of Texas are Upon You!
All The Live Long Day!
The Eyes of Texas Are Upon You
You Cannot Get Away!
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
For It's Texas That We Love Best!
Hail! Hail! The Gang's ALl Here!
And It's Goodbye To All The Rest!
This one is slightly better. It's still too long, but they certainly have got the simple part down. Once again, we have obssession with a particular rival. I think I've made my thoughts on this clear enough. We also have the famous"Eyes of Texas are upon you" line. Indeed they are, and you can not get away from the gaze that stares with utter contempt upon all who refuse to recognize its godly superiority.
Tarleton State
On Ye Tareleton
On Ye Tareleton
Break Right Through That Line
Ever Forward, Ever Onward
We'll Get There or Die
On Ye Tareleton, On Ye Tarleton
Fight For Victory
Fight, Texans. Fight! Fight! Fight!
And Win This Game
You'll never win the game if you kill yourselves every time you have to punt.
TCU
We'll Raise A Song, Both Loud and Long
To Cheer Our Team To Victory
For TCU, So Tried And True
We Pledge Eternal Loyalty
Fight On Boys, Fight With All Your Might
Roll Up The Scores For TCU
Hail White And Purple Flag
Whose Heroes Never Lag
Horned Frogs, We our All For You
Coach has just declared himself dictator for life? We pledge eternal loyalty.
Texas A&M
Hullabaloo! Caneck! Caneck!
Hullabaloo! Caneck! Caneck!
All Hail To Dear Old Texas A&M
Rally Round The Maroon and White
Good Luck to The Dear Old Texas Aggies
They are the boys who Show the Real old Fight
That Good Old Aggie Spirit Thrills Us
And Makes Us Yell and Yell and Yell
So Let's Fight for Dear Old Texas A&M
We're Going To Beat You All To
Chig-Gar-roo-gar-rem!
Chig-Gar-Roo-gar-rem
Rough! Tough! Real Stuff! Texas A&M!
Hulabaloo! Caneck! (Etc)
Good-bye To Texas University
Goodbye To the Orange and White
Good Luck To the Dear old Texas Aggies
They are the Boys Who SHow The Real Old fight
"The Eyes of Texas are Upon You"
This is The Song They Sing So Well
So Goodbye Texas University
We're Going To Beat You all To
Chig-Gar-Roo-Gar-Rem
Chig-Gar-Roo-Gar-Rem
Real Tough! Real Stuff! Texas A&M!
Saw Varsity's Horns Off (Repeat 3x)
Short! AYYYY!
Varsity's Horns are Sawed Off (Repeat 3x)
Short! AYYYY!
1. Here we see Texas-sized egos in play. Fight songs are supposed to be short and simple, not complete with multiple verses and choruses.
2. I believe this song was written by an Ewok who spoke English as a second language. Chig-Gar-Roo-Gar-Rem bitches.
3. The football team plays 11 games a year. Why the obssession with UT? College rivalries are not cute. They are not quaint. They are provencial horseshit, plain and simple. Yes, I know that your big rivalry is a sacred tradition that I just don't understand. Well, that's because there is nothing to understand. Nothing except Victorian era gender indoctrination; strapping young men filled with the martial spirit by their common hatred of the other. In the modern age, this spirit reflects itself through burned couches and slightly more rape victims than a normal weekend. Hail varsity!
The University of Facsist Athletic Department Surrounded by A Pretty Cool Town
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
And It's GoodBye to A&M
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
And We'll Put Over one More Win!
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
For It's Texas That We Love Best!
Hail! Hail! The Gang's All Here!
And It's Goodbye To All The Rest
Yea Orange! Yea White!
Yea Longhorns! Fight! Fight! Fight!
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
Yea Texas Fight!
Texas Fight! Tex.. (Moving Along Here)
The Eyes Of Texas are Upon You!
All The Live Long Day!
The Eyes of Texas Are Upon You
You Cannot Get Away!
Texas Fight! Texas Fight!
For It's Texas That We Love Best!
Hail! Hail! The Gang's ALl Here!
And It's Goodbye To All The Rest!
This one is slightly better. It's still too long, but they certainly have got the simple part down. Once again, we have obssession with a particular rival. I think I've made my thoughts on this clear enough. We also have the famous"Eyes of Texas are upon you" line. Indeed they are, and you can not get away from the gaze that stares with utter contempt upon all who refuse to recognize its godly superiority.
Dé Céadaoin, Lúnasa 16, 2006
Mr. Heartlands Moral Crisis
The Fall Semester can't come soon enough for me. I have become a living, breathing strawman of what the right declares that Liberalism will lead to. I "embrace" one moral code or another simply for the vaguely sexual pleasure of breaking it. I have embraced irony and debauchery to the point where news of the death of innocents in war leads to nothing but laughter at the human condition. It's not that I consider myself superior, just hopelessly disconnected. I have forgotten that the void is supposed to make me feel bad. The organized schedule of school can do nothing but save me. I am nothing but an empty hedonistic rake.
But enough of this pussy-ass Myspace whining. I still have five days of summer left, so here's an open invitation to come to my apartment for Faces of Death and freebase coke. Come one come all
But enough of this pussy-ass Myspace whining. I still have five days of summer left, so here's an open invitation to come to my apartment for Faces of Death and freebase coke. Come one come all
Dé Máirt, Lúnasa 15, 2006
100th post Blowout
I can't afford champagne, so the next best thing is to immaturely offend anyone who comes accross my site. Take this Google Adsense.
Dé Luain, Lúnasa 14, 2006
Concert Review
How to Describe the electronic phase for "Of Montreal"? As showcased Friday night at Knickerbockers? I could go for cheap one liners; The Beatles and Bowie go on a seven day laughing gas binge toghether and decide to make an album. Woodstock Disco (Or better yet, "Frisco Disco LOL)
Their sound is centered on the most melting-plastic-perfect synth lines that have been heard since sampling technology allowed artists of the lazy ass P Diddy/Playstation generation to rip off Bernie Worrel for their next club banger. Add to this a Eurotrash circus stage show that perfectly compliments the music. The wordplay in the lyrics is complex while still catchy, mystical and intelligent without being unintentionally funny. The energy of the show... damn...and also... damn.
The only way it could be better is if the band was playing at my personal compound where I could eat X and service my slave girls at my leisure. Simply put, Of Montreal is the band for anyone who enjoys splitting rails of coke with one's pet giraffe and "manservant" (And isn't this everybody?)
I've heard a nasty rumour that Barnes and the gang our moving away from their dance music phase and back to a more "personal" sound. There is a good chance that this could be good as well. I certainly hope it isn't code for stereotypical indie mumbling and guitar fuzz. (Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it would be a devolution for these guys.) Whatever comes in the future, I'm going to sorely miss the sound of a thousand patchouli scented robot bees swarming through my head, and I'm glad I got to experience the feeling live while I still had the chance.
Their sound is centered on the most melting-plastic-perfect synth lines that have been heard since sampling technology allowed artists of the lazy ass P Diddy/Playstation generation to rip off Bernie Worrel for their next club banger. Add to this a Eurotrash circus stage show that perfectly compliments the music. The wordplay in the lyrics is complex while still catchy, mystical and intelligent without being unintentionally funny. The energy of the show... damn...and also... damn.
The only way it could be better is if the band was playing at my personal compound where I could eat X and service my slave girls at my leisure. Simply put, Of Montreal is the band for anyone who enjoys splitting rails of coke with one's pet giraffe and "manservant" (And isn't this everybody?)
I've heard a nasty rumour that Barnes and the gang our moving away from their dance music phase and back to a more "personal" sound. There is a good chance that this could be good as well. I certainly hope it isn't code for stereotypical indie mumbling and guitar fuzz. (Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it would be a devolution for these guys.) Whatever comes in the future, I'm going to sorely miss the sound of a thousand patchouli scented robot bees swarming through my head, and I'm glad I got to experience the feeling live while I still had the chance.
Dé Sathairn, Lúnasa 12, 2006
This May or May Not Be The Post Where I Get to the Point About Ward Churchill
As a nerd, I usually preread some of the material for the upcoming semester. I'm taking a Native American Lit class this fall, and decided to skim through what looked like the densest required book in the class. This would be "The State of Native America" published by Colorado-Boulder in 1992. The book includes several contributions from, you already know.
Churchill is every bit as radical the "Little Eichmann's" crack would lead you to believe. He and other contributers frequently and unabashedly call on the U.S. to return native land to the point that it returns itself out of existence. Churchill, always in a bone-dry academic tone' calls for the United States to be replaced by something "infinitely better" and name drops Castro and the Sandinistas as examples of how revolutions can overcome long odds. Another writer, John Mohawk, says that white Americans never feel quite at home. Since America is nothing but a breakaway colony that turned into an empire, he reasons, the U.S. is completely illigitimate, existing as "nothing but a government". ( His implication that true nationhood is based on blood and soil is usually considered very right-wing.)
As I have no soul, I am offended by nothing. So I'm not bothered by either the "Eichmann's" crack or the suggestion that the U.S. be replaced by something "infinitely better" I have also heard that Churchill is lying about his claim to native ancestry. Well, that would be a trifling thing, really, there are worse moral failings than that. Though I would suggest that this is 2006, and a man dosn't need elaborate excuses to wear his hair long in middle age. One thing that did piss me off was the fact that Churchill footnotes himself at least twenty times. Who the hell does that, honestly? (Eating boiled plague rats will make men grow a second penis out of the right nipple. See "Beran: Little known Facts About Mammals; Heartland Press)
In all seriousness though, the political "left" can be divided into two camps, liberal reformers and radical destroyers. Churchill is clearly a member of the later.(Again and again "The State of Native America" attacks the center-left for having the audacity to focus on poverty and woman's rights instead of advocating violent native land seizure) The problem is that he just isn't a very good radical. Radicals do have their place. Churchill could have used his talent for saying outrageous things and made himself into a (maybe) half-indian George Carlin. But he wanted to be an intellectual, what a shame. There have been lots of intellectuals, only a tiny elite of them have any impact on society. Goethe never footnoted himself.
As a member of the "liberal reformer" camp, (However caustic I may be at times) I have never bought into the narrative of all-american children being corrupted by radical professors. In fact, I consider this narritive to be dangerously anti-democratic and anti- free thought. And I don't have much patience for cheap conservative cracks about "The People's republic of Boulder/Berkeley/Madison, etc. Boulder is a fine town, so long as you get out before the jocks start hitting the Coors. Having said that, it does seem as if Churchill had created a little fiefdom for himself in the U.C. Boulder Native Studies department. Surrounded by like-minded associates; who spent their time playing playgound games of deriding the center-left and daring each other to say something more radical than the other. The fact that this has finally gotten Churchill into some trouble shouldn't be the least bit surprising.
(This has been Mr. Heartland's token appeal to the center for 2006. Be sure to come back tomorrow when I angrly demand the legalization of cocaine and accuse Pete Rickitts of raping his slaves, thank you and good night.)
Churchill is every bit as radical the "Little Eichmann's" crack would lead you to believe. He and other contributers frequently and unabashedly call on the U.S. to return native land to the point that it returns itself out of existence. Churchill, always in a bone-dry academic tone' calls for the United States to be replaced by something "infinitely better" and name drops Castro and the Sandinistas as examples of how revolutions can overcome long odds. Another writer, John Mohawk, says that white Americans never feel quite at home. Since America is nothing but a breakaway colony that turned into an empire, he reasons, the U.S. is completely illigitimate, existing as "nothing but a government". ( His implication that true nationhood is based on blood and soil is usually considered very right-wing.)
As I have no soul, I am offended by nothing. So I'm not bothered by either the "Eichmann's" crack or the suggestion that the U.S. be replaced by something "infinitely better" I have also heard that Churchill is lying about his claim to native ancestry. Well, that would be a trifling thing, really, there are worse moral failings than that. Though I would suggest that this is 2006, and a man dosn't need elaborate excuses to wear his hair long in middle age. One thing that did piss me off was the fact that Churchill footnotes himself at least twenty times. Who the hell does that, honestly? (Eating boiled plague rats will make men grow a second penis out of the right nipple. See "Beran: Little known Facts About Mammals; Heartland Press)
In all seriousness though, the political "left" can be divided into two camps, liberal reformers and radical destroyers. Churchill is clearly a member of the later.(Again and again "The State of Native America" attacks the center-left for having the audacity to focus on poverty and woman's rights instead of advocating violent native land seizure) The problem is that he just isn't a very good radical. Radicals do have their place. Churchill could have used his talent for saying outrageous things and made himself into a (maybe) half-indian George Carlin. But he wanted to be an intellectual, what a shame. There have been lots of intellectuals, only a tiny elite of them have any impact on society. Goethe never footnoted himself.
As a member of the "liberal reformer" camp, (However caustic I may be at times) I have never bought into the narrative of all-american children being corrupted by radical professors. In fact, I consider this narritive to be dangerously anti-democratic and anti- free thought. And I don't have much patience for cheap conservative cracks about "The People's republic of Boulder/Berkeley/Madison, etc. Boulder is a fine town, so long as you get out before the jocks start hitting the Coors. Having said that, it does seem as if Churchill had created a little fiefdom for himself in the U.C. Boulder Native Studies department. Surrounded by like-minded associates; who spent their time playing playgound games of deriding the center-left and daring each other to say something more radical than the other. The fact that this has finally gotten Churchill into some trouble shouldn't be the least bit surprising.
(This has been Mr. Heartland's token appeal to the center for 2006. Be sure to come back tomorrow when I angrly demand the legalization of cocaine and accuse Pete Rickitts of raping his slaves, thank you and good night.)
Dé hAoine, Lúnasa 11, 2006
Ward Churchill is after your girlfriend
A while ago I had a dream where I was attending a get-together at a good friends house back in North Platte. Ward Churchill was there. I saw no reason why not; I associate myself with the beautiful people. There was a train wreck along the tracks accross the street. In the real world, my friend lives half a mile from the railroad. Never mind. The men in the house organized ourselves into a rescue party. Mr. Churchill did not come.
As I recall, none of the victims were dead. As a matter of fact, no one was seriously wounded . They just needed us to move debris out of the way so that they could walk out themselves and go about their business. The rescue mission took most of the day; but this was only because we would take long and frequent coffee breaks back at the house; an hour at the wreck, an hour back in the dining room with our Folgers and Camels, that's how it went. Keep in mind, we wern't leaving anybody to bleed to death. All the victims were perfectly fine, just stuck is all. You should try moving twisted metal sometime and see how ling you can last without needing a break.
Anyhow, it came to my attention that Ward Churchill was spending all of this time hitting on various women in the house. I thought nothing of it, he's a man just like the rest of us. Later still, however, I noticed that he was only hitting on other mens wives and girlfriends, while ignoring all the single girls. This was simply low down. It was bad enough that he wasn't helping us free the mildly inconvenienced train wreck victims. He had to go and steal all of our women while we were out. Quite deliberately mind you. He was intentionally ignoring the single women just to show his contempt for polite society, and I know for a fact that he stole at least three of my cigarettes.
I am not a mystical person by any means. I am a heartless journalism major in a godless university. Normally, I would tell you with perfect conviction that the human brain has only two talents; logic and empirical knowledge. There is no common sense, there is no intuition, there is no revelation, there is no third eye. Normally I would say this. But I woke up that morning without the slightest doubt that I had met the real Ward Churchill. I've never really met him, of course. But if you ask me what he's like; I could tell you with upmost certainty that he is a total bastard who will steal your woman and your cigarettes.
(Stay tuned for a slightly more relevant and coherent take on Churchill tomarrow)
As I recall, none of the victims were dead. As a matter of fact, no one was seriously wounded . They just needed us to move debris out of the way so that they could walk out themselves and go about their business. The rescue mission took most of the day; but this was only because we would take long and frequent coffee breaks back at the house; an hour at the wreck, an hour back in the dining room with our Folgers and Camels, that's how it went. Keep in mind, we wern't leaving anybody to bleed to death. All the victims were perfectly fine, just stuck is all. You should try moving twisted metal sometime and see how ling you can last without needing a break.
Anyhow, it came to my attention that Ward Churchill was spending all of this time hitting on various women in the house. I thought nothing of it, he's a man just like the rest of us. Later still, however, I noticed that he was only hitting on other mens wives and girlfriends, while ignoring all the single girls. This was simply low down. It was bad enough that he wasn't helping us free the mildly inconvenienced train wreck victims. He had to go and steal all of our women while we were out. Quite deliberately mind you. He was intentionally ignoring the single women just to show his contempt for polite society, and I know for a fact that he stole at least three of my cigarettes.
I am not a mystical person by any means. I am a heartless journalism major in a godless university. Normally, I would tell you with perfect conviction that the human brain has only two talents; logic and empirical knowledge. There is no common sense, there is no intuition, there is no revelation, there is no third eye. Normally I would say this. But I woke up that morning without the slightest doubt that I had met the real Ward Churchill. I've never really met him, of course. But if you ask me what he's like; I could tell you with upmost certainty that he is a total bastard who will steal your woman and your cigarettes.
(Stay tuned for a slightly more relevant and coherent take on Churchill tomarrow)
Dé Céadaoin, Lúnasa 09, 2006
NU Hires New Basketball Coach
Praise be to him that realizes that existence is doom and offers himself to our horrible lord to be eaten first.
Dé Máirt, Lúnasa 08, 2006
Whatever You Say Chief
"You know, I hear people say, Civil War this, Civil War that." "The Iraqi people decided against Civil War when they went to the ballot box."
President Bush
Dé Luain, Lúnasa 07, 2006
The Beatles, Prog Rock And America
There has been some talk lately of the 40th anniversary of "Revolver". This is a masterpiece, by the way, and is almost universally recognized as such, almost. There are those who say that is only the Beatles hadn't gone all freaky with "Revolver" and "Sgt. Pepper" than rock music would have never been infected with pretension, and the world would never have had to suffer through Man O' War's 35 minute heavy metal version of the Illiad. This is simply unfair.
True, The Beatles had their place in the development of Prog-Rock, but they are not wholly responsible for, and certainly not guilty of, its worst excesses. Don't forget about the Who. (A Quick One While He's Away, Tommy) and don't forget about the power of culture.
Notice how most of the earliest art-rock bands (Yes, Emerson-Lake-and Palmer, Pink Floyd) were British. British children experience a more "classical" education than Americans do, complete with Mozart, Verdi, and Beethoven. Any Englishman who picks up an instrument feels more pressure to make "serious" music than a Yankee does. This also somewhat applies to Canada (Rush) which has always been; culturally and politically, more loyal to daddy than the U.S.
Keep in mind that Rock'nRoll is our music, descended from our own blue-collar folk music traditions. It's funny how we are more conservative than our old European oppressors about so many things, yet populist to the point of anarchist when it comes to art and culture. The idea that an artist should try as hard as he/she can to show how much he/she is just like everyone else is uniquely American. From this perspective than, European prog-rock acted as a sort of nationalism. An attempt by alums of the Queen's art shools to seperate themselves from American crudity.
One should also avoid the reverse snobbery of dismissing all art-rock out of hand. Proggers who covered traditional anti-authoritarian rock themes (Pink Floyd) made some truly great music. For the best proof that brainy rock music has its place, look no further than post-punk. Punk music was supposed to clense rock music of the 15 minute drug songs of the 70's, and this was necessary to a point. Yet as soon as Punk gained a place in society; we had Television and the Talking Heads, getting all artsy and smart-ass on us.
The populist ethos of rock can reach a point where it itself becomes oppressive. We all love to brag. Some people like to brag about how often they get laid, or how poor they are. Others like to brag about how smart they are, or how far they can drag out a gutar riff. It's the same thing. We can emphesize the blue-collar roots of rock music all we want. We can launch as many reform movements and purges against heretical nerds that we want. But the fact is that Rock is music, and therefore it is art; and any form of art will always attract people who want to show off their brains. Just think how much poorer the world would be if "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" was the most ambitious thing rock'n roll had ever done.
True, The Beatles had their place in the development of Prog-Rock, but they are not wholly responsible for, and certainly not guilty of, its worst excesses. Don't forget about the Who. (A Quick One While He's Away, Tommy) and don't forget about the power of culture.
Notice how most of the earliest art-rock bands (Yes, Emerson-Lake-and Palmer, Pink Floyd) were British. British children experience a more "classical" education than Americans do, complete with Mozart, Verdi, and Beethoven. Any Englishman who picks up an instrument feels more pressure to make "serious" music than a Yankee does. This also somewhat applies to Canada (Rush) which has always been; culturally and politically, more loyal to daddy than the U.S.
Keep in mind that Rock'nRoll is our music, descended from our own blue-collar folk music traditions. It's funny how we are more conservative than our old European oppressors about so many things, yet populist to the point of anarchist when it comes to art and culture. The idea that an artist should try as hard as he/she can to show how much he/she is just like everyone else is uniquely American. From this perspective than, European prog-rock acted as a sort of nationalism. An attempt by alums of the Queen's art shools to seperate themselves from American crudity.
One should also avoid the reverse snobbery of dismissing all art-rock out of hand. Proggers who covered traditional anti-authoritarian rock themes (Pink Floyd) made some truly great music. For the best proof that brainy rock music has its place, look no further than post-punk. Punk music was supposed to clense rock music of the 15 minute drug songs of the 70's, and this was necessary to a point. Yet as soon as Punk gained a place in society; we had Television and the Talking Heads, getting all artsy and smart-ass on us.
The populist ethos of rock can reach a point where it itself becomes oppressive. We all love to brag. Some people like to brag about how often they get laid, or how poor they are. Others like to brag about how smart they are, or how far they can drag out a gutar riff. It's the same thing. We can emphesize the blue-collar roots of rock music all we want. We can launch as many reform movements and purges against heretical nerds that we want. But the fact is that Rock is music, and therefore it is art; and any form of art will always attract people who want to show off their brains. Just think how much poorer the world would be if "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" was the most ambitious thing rock'n roll had ever done.
Dé Domhnaigh, Lúnasa 06, 2006
Sundays are rather boring, don't you agree?
This is what happens when you do a google instant search for "fat girl". Not "Fat girl Porn" or "Hot fat girls want too fuck you now" just fat girl. She's not even that fat.
10/28/2006: Qwest Center Omaha
Wyld fucking Stallions bitches. The show is, of course, sold out. But if you should happen to want some tickets, (You know you do) send fifty dollars to me, Mr. Heartland. I'm not going to give out my address over the internet, but I have "people" you can contact. If you don't know who "they" are; well, you're just lame. You would only get yourself killed at a Stallions concert anyway.
Party on motherfuckers.
Dé Sathairn, Lúnasa 05, 2006
Robert Phares appointed To Hergert's Nu Regents Seat Seat.
I'm from North Platte, so I suppose I should know something about the former mayor. But no, I've got nothing off the top of my head. He's rich, and he runs an insurance agency from somewhere in downtown Flatrock (I'm thinking 4th and Vine, don't quote me). I should mention that North Platte is culturally much more modest and midwestern than the cowboys in the panhandle. So just in case Phares is crooked (he seems far too boring for that, but you never know.) don't expect him to try to brag, bluster, and bullshit his way out of trouble like Hergert did.
Phares has promised to tow the governor's line on stem-cell research. With any luck, we can soon catch up too southern states in our commitment to protect undiffrentiated zygotes. At least Heineman didn't pick Kathy Wilmot. This would be the woman who is such a theocratic nutcase that she was voted off the state board of education by the solidly Republican voters of western
Nebraska.
Phares has promised to tow the governor's line on stem-cell research. With any luck, we can soon catch up too southern states in our commitment to protect undiffrentiated zygotes. At least Heineman didn't pick Kathy Wilmot. This would be the woman who is such a theocratic nutcase that she was voted off the state board of education by the solidly Republican voters of western
Nebraska.
Dé hAoine, Lúnasa 04, 2006
We must stand with Isreal unconditionally in her war against the barbarian
Guess which side did this. (Hint, it wasn't terrorists. How could it be? If muslims didn't do it, than it coudn't possibly be terrorist.)
Let's Kill Castro Now
Sure, our current "wait for him to die" strategy makes far more sense than the unbelievibly stupid assassination plots that were being thought up in the sixties. But just think about how funny it would be. You just know there's some old soldier in the CIA who still thinks his arsenic-laced cigar brought to Fidel by a Miami exile disguised as a cross-eyed belly dancer with an attitude plan could still work. Let's make the old codger happy. If nothing else, let's do it for old Lee Oswald. While our own spies were thinking up needlessly elaborate plots to dispose of invincible supermen, Oswald realized that world leaders die just as easily as the rest of us. We spend millions of tax dollars, he doesn't even need a lunch break. So let's steal some of his thunder by dusting off one of those Rube Goldberg plots and making it work. Let's bring back the can-do spirit of early 60's America, let's kill Castro before he dies.
Dé Máirt, Lúnasa 01, 2006
What would make me happy in my old age
I just watched a spot of "The Upside of Anger". It's a total chick flick, but if one learns to see amusing depravities between the lines as I have, it is well worth the time. Joan Allan plays a jaded, drunken bourgeois middle-aged devorcee who is mother of four teenage daughters. This is the sort of woman I'm going to marry. I refuse to settle for anything less. Kevin Costner plays the knight in shining armor, pursuing Allan and matching her drink for drink. It is quite clear that he is really after the underage girls. Who wouldn't be? I don't think I'm being out of line when I say that all men fantasize about being the abusive step-father. I know it's wrong. So very, very, filthy and wrong, but I guess some of us are a little more liberated. Lovely daughter you have there Maam, need help with your groceries?
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