Monday, December 29, 2003

Newsy Bits

I can't believe Michael Jackson is claiming the Santa Barbara sheriff's deputies who booked him roughed him up.
I just happened to be watching Court TV the day he turned himself in. As he entered the building, he was surrounded by his attorneys and a phalanx of his other paid sycophants who witnessed the entire process.
The sheriff also allowed a couple of TV and print media vultures into the office to observe the booking. That's how the media was able to distribute his mugshot to the world within an hour.
Michael Jackson claimed the deputies dislocated his shoulder by manhandling him. Let's pause now to chuckle about his verb choice. Manhandling, heh, heh...heh, heh.
Although he smiled, waved his dislocated arm and gave onlookers the peace sign as he left the jail, now he's claiming the injuries he sustained from police brutality have left him unable to sleep or raise his arms.
I am not entirely certain he's guilty of pedophilia (yeah, right) but if he's stupid enough to claim brutality when the building was filled with witnesses who would have reported it to the media within nanoseconds, then he's stupid
enough to think he can get by with diddling little boys.
To repeat the scandal's most frequently asked question, I wonder if Jackson would let one of his sons have a sleepover in the same bed with some 45-year-old guy? How about one who'd been accused of pedophilia before, but settled out
of court?
Yeah, yeah, I know that any parent who'd let their kid sleep alone with Jackson should be bitch slapped, but stupidity is not a crime.
Jackson may have had a better chance at a fair trial had he not alleged police brutality.
California cops can be violent, racist jerks, but not with that many witnesses and media present.
I think that move cast aspersions on his veracity, which in English means, "he fucked up, lying about something we all know didn't happen."
Your views?

Now, to change the subject entirely, here's a question some of you mechanically inclined people might be able to answer.
This morning I opened my refrigerator and the light didn't come on. At first I thought the power had gone out and the fridge was off, but everything was still cold, so I checked the bulb and it was burnt out.
I replaced it with a new bulb and the light still didn't come on.

Friday, December 26, 2003

A Holiday Reprieve

My brother called me late last night to ask if I'd consider rescheduling our family Christmas visit that was slated for today.
He said there'd be too many out of towners, in-laws, outlaws, cousins, teenagers and other layabouts still hanging around, and the commotion would disrupt what we'd hoped would be a small visit with him, his wife, my mom and maybe a nephew or two.
Mom's a little hard of hearing, and in a crowded room she gets overwhelmed by overlapping conversations, then she starts to get conversationally competitive and starts talking about historical events she participated in that are simply not true.
Once she said while she was at a lavish charity ball, Lyndon B. Johnson called her his little prairie flower and danced with her all evening while Lady Bird sat on the sidelines, giving Mama the hen eye.
Another time she said when the Pope was in town, riding down the street in his Popemobile, he looked her up and down, smiled and winked.
So, you can see why my brother wanted to skip the crowded gathering.
I tried to disguise my glee at not having to fight the holiday traffic on I-35, which is clogged with bumper to bumper, death wish having, gun toting, NASCAR wannabes, even on ordinary weekdays. Plus, today is the busiest shopping day of the year, and on the way to Austin on I-35 is an outlet mall roughly the size of New Hampshire. The traffic around there today will be backed up for 40 miles, I bet. I-35 is so bad, one afternoon as I was driving north, this guy passed me in a red Toyota convertible, doing about 110 mph while he was talking on his cell phone. When he slowed to about 85 to avoid hitting the clump of cars ahead of him, I caught up to see what he looked like.
It was Governor Rick Perry, that scofflaw bastard.
A few weeks ago, while he was filing to put Dubya's name on the ballot for the Texas GOP primary, Perry had his driver park in a handicap parking space. A reporter spotted it and blasted it all over the news.
Perry's limo wasn't ticketed (of course), but he had to give $500 of his own dough to some charity to get the heat off him.
He's not quite as dumb as Dubya, but he makes up for it with arrogance that makes J.R. Ewing look like Gandhi.
I know outside of Texas nobody's heard of him, because he hasn't actually done anything as governor. He's never on the news in Texas, either, except for that recent handicap parking story.
When he was running for Governor, he showed up at a black tie Human Rights Campaign Foundation Dinner (that's a big organization for rich queers, for you heteros).
A very attractive lesbian physician, wearing a couture evening gown, walked up to him as he slouched against the wall, and asked why she should vote for him.
He looked right at her cleavage, skipped a few beats, then sneered, "Cuz I'm here."
She said, "That's it?" That's your answer?'
He just turned and walked away.

Anyway, after yesterday's Goth-crashes-Jesus-Christ's-birthday party, I'm relieved not to have to attend another holiday function before I have time to fully savor my Christmas memories, over a mug of steaming hot clam juice.

Thursday, December 25, 2003

Christmas Day

I spent Christmas Day with my best friend Anna and her extended family. I love bizarre holiday gatherings, and this one fit the bill perfectly.
Anna's mom is one of those beautiful older ladies who should be on TV commercials with her handsome husband, selling old folks crap like denture creme, motorized, bendable mattresses, Rascal scooters, funeral insurance, fiber, Ensure, the Clapper and long distance phone services. They make old age seem really appealing.
Alas, the mom is apparently starting an early salute to senility. She gave me a bottle of clam juice for Christmas.
You read that right. Clam juice.
Seems to me, that gesture puts her about 2 degrees away from pushing a shopping cart full of crap up Main Street, mumbling to herself about alien abduction.
Anna's daddy is a minister. He'd make the perfect movie minister, like a cross between Charlton Heston and Billy Graham.
Anna's husband Brad has a very sweet brother from Houston named Greg, whose lifestyle has left his mind very similar to Ozzie Osburne's. He's sweet and harmless, but his brain's been fried to a crisp. He was there with his wife and her kids, whom I dubbed Morticia and Wednesday.
Morticia is in 9th grade and totally Goth.
She's about 5'3" and weighs 67 pounds, black eye liner and all. Her skin is the same shade as skim milk, and she wore a casual black ensemble with a skull and assorted satanic runes printed on the shirt. A pair of black, 40-pound Doc Marten jack boots completed the look.
She did not talk. Mostly she stared. For variety, she'd stiffen up and stare at the floor.
The other daughter was a pudgy 6th grader. She's just starting to tiptoe into the Goth look, but her face was still human colored and she sported no obvious satanic or death themed accessories, piercings or tatts. Yet. The juxtaposition of Anna's minister daddy and perfect pastor's wife mom next to the Addam's Family kids in the group photos should be priceless. I want to frame my copy.
Before dinner, Anna's dad read aloud a passage about Mary, Joseph and the archangel Gabriel, and the miracle of the immaculate conception, yadda, yadda, yadda.
The Goth girls listened in shock, like wicked witches from Oz being squirted with a Super Soaker filled with ice water.
Then before dinner, we all formed a circle and prayed.
Alas, my prayerful reverence was distracted by watching the Hell Sisters, standing there twitching like Linda Blair about to spew pea soup.
The grand finale was the cake Anna's mom brought for dessert.
It was a white sheet cake with, "Happy Birthday Jesus" written in chocolate icing on top, with a single white candle stuck in it. Oy vey.
Even I, as a lapsed Catholic, thought the birthday cake for Jesus was over the top, and it's hard to outdo a Catholic in terms of religious schmaltz.
I was sitting across from the Satanic sisters when the candle was lit and we were all prompted to sing, "Happy Birthday" to Jesus.
The Goth tots' reactions were priceless. The pre-Goth pudgy one just sort of giggled, but Morticia stared straight ahead in stunned silence, with ice crystals forming on her aura.
Then we all started eating our 15,000 carbohydrate gram dinner, which was fabulous.
I'm scared to check, but I'd guess my glucose level is about 450 now, four hours later. It was 86 when I left my house to go to Anna's. Hello ketoses, goodbye toes!
After dinner, I felt sorry for Morticia, who was sitting in a catatonic state on the couch, no doubt hearing the voices of Satan and Jesus bickering in her head.
So I asked Anna to find her a book on vampires or other horror so she could entertain herself. Anna found her, "Twelve," a fairly dark, creepy novel written by a young kid out of NYC. Morticia found solace in the pages, and we all felt better for it.
Anna's 7-year-old son, Andrei, was in charge of the video camera. Methinks his youthful cinema verite camera style will lend itself perfectly to the event.
Whew. What a day.
Tomorrow is Christmas in Austin with my family of origin.
My nephews are extremely All American boys with no Gothic tendencies. No clergy will be present. Entertainment will have to center on my 91-year-old mother's sherry inspired running monologues, that skip between 1942 and 2003, sans
This may require a couple of stiff vodka and clam juice cocktails.

Wednesday, December 24, 2003

A Sappy, Happy Holiday Haiku Binge

Tis the holidays!
Donning our gay apparel
Before they jail us

With Bush in office
We want to wish the whole world
A Scary Christmas!

Christmas in Vermont
Marry your gay love this year
Before Bush busts you

Last year I spent Yule
With a pretty, Jewish love
Oy vey, not this year.

This year, all alone
Except for two cats, who like
to sleep on my head

Christmas Eve, I'll spend
not with the ex and her kids
Whew! No Cartoon Network!

Grateful this Christmas
Glucose at normal levels
And still have my toes

I wish you all love
The sweet, caring kind of love
Not that porno kind

To my Blogging friends
I wish you clever comments
And leave me some, too

To lesbo readers
If you're sane and attractive
Drop me Yule e-mail!

This holiday time
Don't drink and drive your car
Don't be like a Bush

Ladies, gentlemen
Gay or straight or bi or trans
Have great holidays!

Peace to all of you
May the Spirit bless us all
Let's pray for war's end

I wish you all safe and happy holidays, and send my love and thanks to everyone who's visited Pulp Friction this year, especially those who left so many entertaining comments.


Monday, December 22, 2003

Ho Ho Hum

The great thing about getting dumped (again) right before Thanksgiving is that by Christmas, the dumpee (aka: me) has pretty much gotten over it.
Yep, just in time for another holiday (my birthday, 4th of July and finally, Thanksgiving) my girlfriend called it quits again, two days before Thanksgiving. I tried to talk her out of it, but she adapted a scorched earth policy that made further attempts to make peace seem absurd, if not downright masochistic.
The bad thing about continually reuniting with someone who kept dumping me was that my usually supportive friends sort of yawned when I told them she'd dumped me again. Mostly they said, "Well, of course she dumped you, there's a holiday coming up."
I checked the calendar and found that when a holiday caused banks to be closed or no mail delivery that day, I was usually single again.
Anyway, with minimal sympathy from friends and zero support from anyone for another futile reconciliation, I started journaling, attending alanon meetings, and within a few weeks I figured out why I should just accept the way things
are and move on.
The beauty of getting dumped is the natural weight loss that comes with it. That, plus new hair color and smaller size clothes made lemonade from the lemons I was handed.
Another telling aspect of getting dumped has been how my ego works against my head and heart at times like this.
Wanting to see her to crawl back filled with apologies, or wanting her to see me around town looking good are both ego fantasies I've indulged in far too many times over the last four weeks. Those ego trips are fading, though. Facts are, I can't risk loving her again because my trust in her is gone, and seeing her around town would only make me feel uncomfortable.
All I know is, I tried my best. I made positive changes and compromised more with her than with anyone I ever loved. I'm a better person, having learned from her many positive traits, and I think she did the best she could, considering the issues she has.
I have no malice toward her.
I didn't cause her to be the way she is, and I can't fix it.
But she'll never have the chance to dump me again, because this time I'm the one who's finally, inexorably finished.

Saturday, December 20, 2003

The Diary of PuSay Hussein
(Saddam's Unusual Daughter)

Praise Allah! The GeorgebushAmerican peoples have found my father (may allah leave those nits in his hair though eternity) in a hole and taken him to another place called custody.
When he was here at the palace hiding and looking for disguise he nearly drove me crazy trying on Dynasty gowns and wigs he from order from GeorgebushAmerican company call ebay. All that swirling of his in front of palace mirrors made the concubines and me dizzy and wanting to vomit. He did not resemble as he thought Linda Evans, more like Dale Evans.
In the hole the GeorgebushAmericans found father in (may Allah give him guards who find him sexually appealing) there were many items found that are of curiosity to myself and my concubines. What I wonder is Paris Hilton video? Perhaps he was trying to check into Paris hotel to hide?
And what I wonder was he doing with campaign literature and cashiers checks to donate to reelect Georgebush? And a photo of Georgebush on large boat in pilot uniform, where my father (may Allah make his scrotum swell big as a camel's) had written ha ha ha over with black marker?
Also a crate of GeorgebushAmerican money was found with a note stating, "with love from Halliburton." I wonder who he is? Perhaps an Al Qaida or Taliban operative.
Now that my father (may Allah give him singing trout plaque for holidays) is in GeorgebushAmerican place call custody and my brothers are shot to pieces, I can make my play for ruler of Iraq.
I have order from Internet the book of Hillary Clinton for ideas on how woman to take over country and I think I am ready to rule Iraq.
Already I have slogans, made for me by my concubines.
"Everyone Loves PuSay!"
And for car bumper, "Honk if you Love Pu-Say."

Friday, December 19, 2003

Gay Marriage Poll

The American Family Association, which calls itself "America's Pro-Family Online Activism Organization," is running a poll on Homosexual Marriage.
They want to forward the results to Congress.
I am sure many of you have received e-mail and read other Blogs that urge you to vote in favor of gay marriage on this poll. Perhaps it's working, because those in favor of gay marriage is ahead of those against.
One thing to note: apparently to water down the pro votes, they included a category that reads, "I favor a "civil union" with full benefits of marriage without the name."
Just skip that vague gibberish and go for the yes vote.
Also, once I voted for gay marriage, I got a notice from Earthmail Spam blocker that my screenname was blocked from the AFA's mailbox, as not being recognized. I followed the link that requested recognition. I wonder if all pro votes have to jump through the same hoops?
At any rate, please vote to neutralize discrimination against gays who want to legally marry. Gay Marriage Poll

Tuesday, December 16, 2003

How to Make Saddam Talk

These silly American men, trying all these tired old Geneva Conventional ways to get Saddam to tell what he knows. Give me a little time with the bastard, I have ways to get him to talk.

-Sure, he has to have food, but how about loading up his tray with pork chops, bacon, ham, pork rinds and a few pork ribs? His Islamic intestines will be bubbling in no time. He has to have water, too, so I suggest we get his from the Los Angeles area.
-Bring in the Queer Eye on the Straight Guy team. Not to redo his lifestyle while he's in confinement, but to act real faggoty and make out in front of him.
-Hire Sandra Bernhardt to come in and give him a few lap dances. That face so close to his will make him squeal Iraqi secrets like a little bitch.
-Bedtime for Saddam? Time to fire up the VCR for a night of blaring, nonstop Barney the Dinosaur, Catholic masses on Cable, George W. Bush speeches, old Martha Stewart Living episodes, and some classic Jerry Springer and Maury Povitch shows.
-Clothing must be provided. Let's start by making him wear Lil's old panties on his head. Add to that one of Madonna's bustiers with the pointy cups. Finish it off with Rupert's skirt and some real pointy Manolo Blahnik stilettos in a nice chartreuse patent leather. Then broadcast photos and video of his new look to the world.
-He must have a place to sleep, so I say he's given a fold-out sofa bed, the kind with the big bar in the middle. One night of that and anyone would be ready to talk.
-Companionship is important. Bring in four unaltered, horny alley cats, and skip the litter box. And don't forget the cage of gerbils on an un-oiled treadmill for maximum squeakage. Should we add a monkey or two? How about a parrot?
-Environmentally, I'd suggest venting in the fragrances of clove cigarettes, peach or rose scented incense from any dollar store, and the essence of Shaquille O'Neal's sweaty, mildewed socks and jock.
-Toiletry amenities must be provided. I'd include toilet tissue treated with asbestos fibers, pine tar soap and any shampoo made by Suave. For his shaving needs, nothing beats a Lady Epilator.
-He might also need a cellmate to encourage him to share what he knows. Who else but the charming and eloquent Barcodie? How many days could Saddam take that?

Monday, December 15, 2003

Swirling Survivor Reflections

That was by far the best Survivor series ever.
Finally, a winner whose strategy was to vote with the pack yet still be her own woman and say what she felt.
Besides playing the game with some amusing treachery, Sandra's well-placed use of the phrase "mothafucka" pleased the bitch in all of us.
She deserved the million bucks, and she cleans up pretty nice to boot.
A few interesting things I observed...
The subconscious group strategy, where everyone insisted to Lil that she'd be the hardest contestant to stand beside at the final vote, was brilliant. How anyone would think she'd win the popular vote was ludicrous, but Lil bought it and it lulled her into making some bad decisions.
Her most respectable decision was to risk losing rather than let Jon win the second place $100,000 prize. Her observation that his slacker lifestyle wasn't as deserving as Sandra's showed some common sense.
Lil's meandering self promo speeches during the jury's final vote sealed her fate. If she'd mentioned the Boy Scouts one more time, I would have had a stroke.
For Jon to crow about being the last man standing was typical of him. He apparently didn't notice the correlation between that and him being perceived by the women as the weakest, least threatening male left. The guy's ego and bravado hide a tiny little man who has a lot to learn.
Rupert may not have won the money, but the emotional salute to him in the reunion special will give him all the confidence he needs to serve as a role model to fat little bullied boys everywhere who grew into big, brave men. The video scrapbook of his adventures was priceless, hilarious and made me all verklemft. He left that show an evolved man we can all take a few lessons from.
I still don't think the male Alpha dogs of this series were the least bit humbled or enlightened by being whipped by a dithering, menopausal old crone and a cagey Latina chick. None of them seemed to get that their self-perceived superiority prevents them from truly being superior.
Lil was wise to realize her scouting shtick was a stupid move. Besides, the Boy Scouts are a relic from the Leave it to Beaver era. Even the United Way Campaign dropped them recently for their discriminatory, homophobic policies.
She's actually a great representative of the BSA. Would you want your kid to be in a troop she was leading? Hope they don't have to find any map coordinants!
Anyway, we all have to wait until Feb. 1 for the All Stars edition.
Anyone interested in joining a potential pool, drop me an e-mail.

Thursday, December 11, 2003

Tonight's Survivor!

Folks, we are down to the stems and seeds, and nobody in particular stands out as a deserving winner.
What we have in abundant supply are castaways worthy of losing, most obviously Jon, the lying, grandma-killing, bad karma attracting weasel; Burton, the mama's boy/control freak; and Lil, the wobbly-chinned pity party girl in those saggy old lady panties that make all of us kack-up like a kitty with a hairball.
One semi-deserving player left is Sandra, for her occasional insight, spying in the bushes and her amusing use of the terms 'bitch' and 'muthafucka' hurled toward Jon (I love how poorly the bleepers disguise her profane tirades).
Then there's Darrah, whose grating Mississippi accent is mitigated by her astonishingly beautiful white teeth, which she's somehow maintained without benefit of a toothbrush or toothpaste.

It's been an ordeal to try to guess the next outcast in this Panama series.

There has been no logic, no plan, no sturdy alliances, no crafty tricks, except...okay...
I hate to admit it but Jon has consistently outfoxed everyone.
He is amoral, pathologically dishonest, unabashedly arrogant, decidedly unattractive, immature, braggadocios, lazy, shiftless, contributes nothing in the way of food, shelter or labor to Camp Balboa, is egotistical for no apparent reason, and considers himself a "great date" because he's a self-described connoisseur of fine cuisine, who then had the mendacity to order chicken fingers,
cheeseburgers and hackneyed old filet mignon at the fancy resort restaurant he lucked into after Lil and Darrah successfully dragged his scrawny ass through the reward challenge.

Still, hope springs eternal, so I am guessing the girls finally wise up and boot off either Burton or Jon.
And if they don't, they are all just too plain damn stupid to win.
Damn, I miss Rupert.
Your guess?

Monday, December 08, 2003

Rush Blames Democrats for Pill Probe
(excerpts from an article by STEPHEN M. SILVERMAN)

"...Conservative talker Rush Limbaugh claimed on his radio show Friday that Democrats are out to get him.
Limbaugh's latest assertion came one day after reports that Florida investigators raided his doctors' offices and seized his medical records in an effort to see whether the radio host had gone "doctor shopping" for under-the-counter drugs.
Limbaugh, 51, has admitted to a painkiller addiction and recently spent five weeks in a treatment center before returning to the airwaves (where, in the past, he regularly demanded automatic jail sentences for drug users).
On Friday, Limbaugh called himself the victim of a political witch-hunt.
Limbaugh, who lives in a $24 million Palm Beach palace, has not been charged with a crime. In their search warrants, investigators cited a prescription list for more than 2,000 pills from March 24 through Sept. 26.
"You people (Democrats) are taking aim at me in so many different ways."
On Friday's "Today" show, Limbaugh's lawyer Roy Black accused Palm Beach County prosecutor Barry Krischer of being politically motivated in his investigation into whether Limbaugh had purchased painkillers illegally.
"They are looking to publicly embarrass him and affect his radio program," said Black. "Why is Rush Limbaugh the only person treated like this in America?" Krischer is a Democrat. His spokesman, Mike Edmonson, declined to respond to the Limbaugh camp's charges, the Associated Press reports..."

Word to Rush:
Stop being such a whining, blaming wimp.
You got hooked on OxyContin the same way many addicts get hooked on prescription narcotics, you stacked up a bunch of doctors to write you scrips.
These fucking right-wing blowhards blame everything on Democrats.
This is just ridiculous.
Rush is no better than presidential niece Noel Bush, an addict who got caught and had to do her time.
Fuck Rush Limbaugh. He broke the law, he's being investigated and if he did the crimes, he needs to be tried, convicted and have his fat ass thrown in jail.

And one more thing. Kudos to John Kerry who had the courage to say Bush fucked up in Iraq. He did fuck up. Outraged Republicans who object to the profanity can go fuck themselves. They've been fucking with us long enough.

Friday, December 05, 2003

Probable Survivor All Stars

My secret Survivor tipster Katie sent me this link that I found quite plausible All Star Cast.
I missed a few in my predictions, but I think this cast will be quite entertaining.
Who do you think would win out of this batch?

Thursday, December 04, 2003

Survivor: Dead Grandma?

When I was a kid and used to skip school, I always made it a point to use only dead relatives as excuses for having to attend funerals. Somehow I knew choosing a relative still alive was mega-bad karma, and just asking for them to actually die.
Jon apparently has no concept of such karma.
As everyone knows by now, he trumped up his grandma's death as an excuse to hang out all night at Camp Balboa with his goofy pal while his tribemembers were cast away on a desolate part of the island with just a machete and a box of matches.
Plank walking and keel hauling are too good for him. He deserves to be forced into a night of giving oral pleasure to Lil, including some leisurely toe sucking.
Anyway, if that wasn't enough, the idiotic castaways skipped the ideal chance to boot off the master manipulator Burton, or even that deceitful little creep Jon.
They booted Tijuana off.
Lately, I have been taping each episode so I can carefully review the stupidity that goes on in the voting process. Why Sandra and Christa opted to boot Tijuana is beyond anyone's comprehension.
My major Survivor rumor frau has said this will end up an all-girl final four.
If she's right, those bitches oughtta start booting those conniving men lickity split.
I am going to suspend my doubts, choose to be optimistic and predict Burton will be booted out next. If he wins immunity, then Jon will be gone.

Wednesday, December 03, 2003


I started this Blog around two years ago.
In that time, I've made several new friends, gone through a few girlfriends, cleared the one-year mark for surviving cancer, then the two-year mark, developed diabetes, lost 57 pounds, started working out and eating right, and developed obsessions with Survivor and the miserable administration of that pinheaded warmonger George W. Bush.
I've aired my private bidness, then became more private over the years. I've ranted and raved, and apologized when I went too far.
I've even Blogged for charity, where for 24 hours I babbled, blew out my hard drive, had to call in a tech in the middle of the night to fix it, babbled some more, and managed to collect more than $400 for Doctors Without Borders.
I keep a journal in my private life now. That's where I think personal revelations belong, plus the act of dragging a pen over paper is cathartic and therapeutic.
I have met some amazing people through this Blog, as well as some characters who are so bizarre they'd be too implausible to describe, even for fiction writing.
Blogging has in many ways become my touchstone for reality. I live alone and work alone, and knowing that more than 85,000 visitors have popped in over the last two years to see what's going on is gratifying.
So thanks, everyone.
I promise to soon get my AOL and browser sorted out so I can start daily postings again.
Meanwhile, thanks to Grey Bird for doing my posting for me.

Wednesday, November 26, 2003

Survivor Wednesday!

As a public service reminder, Survivor is on tonight not tomorrow night, so be sure to adjust your social schedules accordingly.
Tonight's episode promises to be a hot one!
Seems Christa allegedly sabotaged the food supply and the crew is out for blood! Did she do it? Well, she looks kinda stoopid but I can't say if she's *that* stupid.
Also, my new front-runner fave Sandra goes into mega head bobbling mode as she reams out another cast member. My guess? Jon.
The reward challenge results in some sort of touching gesture. All through this series, people are giving away stuff they won. Phuh. Some pirates these folks make.
The evil villain to watch out for? Burton.
Anyway, with Christa babbling that she wants to go home in the previews, I think she's next to be booted. With arrogant, Barney Fifeian Jon and Moaning Myrtle Lil in the mix, that's some accomplishment.
Who's your pick?

Friday, November 21, 2003

Survivor All Star Nominations

Looks like the Survivor All Star show will debut Feb. 1, right after the Superbowl.
Cast members from past shows will compete, but CBS hasn't yet announced which ones made the cut.

Here are my nominees (and some memory joggers):

The Boys:
Richard Hatch Survivor 1. Every show needs a token conniving gay man, and Richard was the prototype.
Colby Donaldson Survivor 2 Australia. He should have won, he's a good Texas guy and he has those nice, white teeth.
Tom Buchanan Survivor 3 Africa. Wheee doggies! The old pig farmer was very amusing and I want to see him again.
Matthew Von Ertfelda Survivor 4 Amazon. He can be the token weirdo, plus he kicks ass in the challenges.
Ken Stafford Survivor 5 Thailand. The NYPD cop who made my pal Melly melt. Melly, this one's for you.
Roger Sexton Survivor 6 Amazon. This bossy old bastard ought to clash well with the young Alpha dogs on the list.
Rudy Boesch Survivor 1. By now he's so old they can use him as chum, but while he's still alive he'll be good for some crusty old wisecracks.
Rupert! The name says it all.

The Girls:
Kathy Vavrick-O'Brien Survivor 4 Marquesas. I liked this chick. Remember? She was the blonde from Burlington, Vt. Ballsy but kind.
Ghandia Johnson Survivor 5 Thailand. Every show needs a conceited, z-snapping ho who thinks she's hotter than she is. Ghandia is that ho.
Helen Glover Survivor 5 Thailand. We learned to love her after she willed her hubby to eat those icky slugs or whatever they were.
Cwisty Smith Survivor 6 Amazon. Awww. We loved Cwisty. Huh? I said WE LOVED CWISTY!
Tina Wesson Survivor 1. Let's see how slick she is in this tribe of serpents.
Susan Hawk Survivor 1. Truck Driver Bitch!
Jerri Mantley Survivor 2 Australia. Whore!
Elizabeth Filarski Survivor 2 Australia. I want to see the mean girls do things to her.

Have I missed anyone?

Thursday, November 20, 2003

Survivor Thursday

Since the Survivor series seems to favor a boy-girl-boy girl rotation of million dollar winning sole Survivors, I am wondering if this series will have a girl win the whole enchilada? Rumors have indicated that may be the case in this Panama edition.
Before I forget to mention this- has anyone seen the razor ad where Colby (the cowboy who handed the prize to Tina in the Australian Survivor) is the pitchman? He looks sensational and has a naturally relaxed screen presence and delivery style.
It was great to see him earning enough dough to possibly sell that hideous Aztec vehicle he won on the show. I can't see one of those wrecks on the street without cringing, thinking of Colby and his Mama back there sleeping together in the one he won.
Anyway, back to this series...
Sure, Rupert is the hands-down favorite with the viewing public, but we know from experience that merit and deservedness have about as much to do with winning on Survivor as they do in presidential politics.
Problem is, if a girl wins, which girl would deserve it?
We have Christa, Darrah, Lillian, Sandra and Tijuana remaining.
Of the five, Darrah, Lillian and Tijuana are leftovers from the Morgan tribe and therefore bound to be axed by the majority Drake tribe members in the merged Balboa tribe.
Besides, Darrah's accent is as grating as chewing on a ball of aluminum foil, Lillian is a wobbly chinned, hormonally addled sadsack, and Tijuana is sweet but entirely unremarkable in thought, word and deed. That leaves Christa and Sandra, who are about as memorable as that group who sang "Afternoon Delight." We don't know anything about them, they haven't been the least bit interesting on the show and haven't endeared themselves to anyone in the tribe or the viewing public.
Aw hell, let's face it, if Rupert doesn't win, who cares who does?
Charles Darwin should have theorized about the survival of the blandest. Then we might have a clue as to why good things can happen to people who merely show up and eat whatever's put in front of them.

Wednesday, November 19, 2003

Oy, How Embarrassing (and other tidbits)

The news is filled with recounts of Dubya's State visit to England this week. Even conservative estimates say 100,000 Brits are protesting Bush, his visit to England and the war he talked Prime Minister Tony Blair into joining. No longer mentioning the weapons of mass destruction he claimed were hidden in Iraq that justified the invasion, now Bush is over there making speeches about "democracies protecting the world from chaos."
He seems not to notice that Saddam Hussein and Iraq were about as dormant as Khadaffi and Libya when Bush and his cadre of his daddy's old pals decided Iraq and Saddam were at the epicenter of terrorism against the free world and needed to be destroyed.
And Bush also fails to mention that the war he claimed was a 'mission accomplished' on May 1 has claimed more coalition soldiers' lives after May 1 than during the war itself.
The Iraqis have not greeted coalition forces as liberators, but as conquerors.
The chaos in the Middle East has been exacerbated, America is not a safer place to live, and Bush is an embarrassment to global democracy.

-In other news, Scott Peterson has been bound over for trial for murdering his wife and infant son. Anyone who thinks he's innocent just hasn't been watching Court TV.
-An arrest warrant has been issued for Michael Jackson, who is accused of molesting yet another young boy. The allegations emerged from the kid's therapy sessions. The boy's therapist was following the law by reporting the allegations to authorities. How many times will Jackson get by with diddling little boys before his money and luck run out? For Chrissakes, the guy is obviously a pedophile whose money and talent don't excuse his crimes. Although I question why any parents would allow their kid anywhere near Jackson, the fact remains- if sexual abuse took place, the guy needs to be locked up and kept away from little nippers' zippers.
-As for (I Need a) Rush Limbaugh, authorities are looking into whether he skirted state money-laundering laws in getting the cash to buy illegal drugs. Bank records indicate Limbaugh made 30-40 cash withdrawals from his bank account for just under $10,000 each (just under IRS reporting amounts). If he used the money to obtain illegal drugs, that's called money laundering and it's a first-degree felony in his home state of Florida. It carries up to a 30-year prison sentence. As a guy who's made a career of lambasting drug addicts, why should Rush get a walk?

All these rich guys seem to think money and expensive lawyers put them above the law. The only rich, famous celebrity who seems to be getting in any real legal trouble is Martha Stewart. It's starting to seem like being a bastard is okay, just don't be a bitch or you'll get in trouble.

Monday, November 17, 2003

Public Service Announcement

Dear Readers,

You may be puzzled... Why would Ms. Zipdrive have a blog dated Friday which wasn't there when you looked on Sunday?

The truth is her blog sat in my email all weekend while I was busy doing other things. Not wanting to misrepresent Karen and make it look like she's ignored you since Thursday, I posted the blog with the date and time she sent it to me. (Who the hell is awake and coherent enough to write at 5:30 a.m. anyway? She's superwoman, I tell ya!)

Anyway, this nonsense will stop as soon as "Zippy" gets her computer fixed.


Friday, November 14, 2003

Blogs n' Ends

-Yep. I heard on the news yesterday that tax relief Bush has offered small business owners when they buy enormous SUVs has cost us $1.3 billion in lost tax revenues.
They interviewed a Dallas physician who bought a $90,000 SUV and wrote it off. He drives it to work.
-The U.S. Central Command (400 military bigwigs) is moving from Tampa back to Qatar. Seems the war that Bush declared was over on May 1 is getting so hot again, the military brass have to go back to the Middle East to tell our hapless troops what to do.
-My best friend Anna called and left a long message complaining about Jessica Lynch.
I have to agree. When she was first rescued, word was she didn't remember jack shit. Then she realized there'd be no book or TV movie about a rescued POW with amnesia, so suddenly she became glutted with lurid details. For what it's worth, when her TV movie went head to head with Elizabeth Smart, the Mormon kid who was abducted by a religious wingnut, Elizabeth's TV movie won in the ratings. I skipped both of them.
-I think all this red, white and blue faux patriotism the Bush cult would like to see perpetuated is wearing thin with the public. Bush is running less than 50% favorable in recent polls, less than his one-term father was at the same point in his administration.
It took a while, but even the gullible American public seems to be getting tired of the lies and sidestepping.
-I hear Rush Limbaugh has kicked his narcotic addiction and will be returning to his radio show soon. I wonder if he'll become more reasonable now that he's not all fucked up on dope? Nah, he probably damaged his brain doing all that OxyContin, so he'll still be a babbling nincompoop.
-Poor Walmart. First they get busted for having illegals cleaning their stores, now six of its "sexiest" employees are posing nude in Playboy. Must have been a hard search because I've never seen a hot Walmart employee and don't know anyone who has.
-Isn't it amazing how these All American bastions of wholesome family values (like Limbaugh and Walmart) turn out scummy when some light is shined on them?
-Now Bush is saying our troops will stay in Iraq and Afghanistan until Bin Laden and Hussein are captured. That new excuse should net his buddies who make billions on war plenty of extra jack.
-Anyone laying any bets that either Bin Laden or Hussein will be captured a few weeks before the presidential election next year? Vegas ought to start laying odds. It sounds like a classic Bush move to me.

Thursday, November 13, 2003

Survivor Tonight!

Now that two crappy teams (except for Rupert) have merged into one, the players are free to flaunt their true natures. As a public service, I offer the following amateur psychological evaluations of the remaining crew.

-Burton: His innate confidence that comes from being handsome and buff will cancel out the blow to his ego that came from being voted out. Already he has charmed Rupert into forgiving and forgetting how he once humiliated him and gave him fat kid flashbacks.
-Christa: She is like the lettuce in the sandwich, not essential, but sort of nice. She'll hang in a while longer because she isn't a threat to anyone.
-Darrah: She's the tomatoes in that same sandwich. She'll also hang in a while longer.
-Jon: He's got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. Strategy be damned, he's due to get the ax because he's a loathsome, slimy parasite.
-Lillian: Darwin had her in mind when he theorized about the human species. Next to Jon, she's the most dispensable tribe member. She's way not cool to hang around with.
-RyanO: Everyone likes this Beta male. He's cute, compliant, doesn't dish the dirt and flies under the radar. He'll make the final four.
-Sandra: Her outspoken, spicy personality will be her undoing. Sooner or later she'll piss off someone who has some clout, then it's adios for her.
-Tijuana: She's turned out to be pretty kind hearted and well regarded. She could make the final four.
-Rupert: By far the most deserving contestant the show has ever had. He's fair, tough, funny, resourceful, strong and good. With no strong Alpha male to battle him now that Burton is in his debt, he's the one to win. He'll coast through the next few weeks, but watch for Burton to go after him once the merge dust settles.

Predictions for tonight:
Buh bye Jon, you weasley little prick.
Lil, see ya later.

Tuesday, November 11, 2003

Out of Steam?

I am in an obvious Blogslump©. It happens to all of us on occasion and there's no remedy for it. Like a common cold, it has to be waited out. Someone needs to start a Blog sprucing-up business where they come in and post witty and amusing things until the Blog owner snaps out of it. Or maybe the pharmaceutical companies can develop Blog-agra, which helps a Blogger get it up to write something. Okay, okay, I'll just mention some random things now to spark some discussion.

-John Kerry is the first of the Democratic candidates to use in his ads footage of Dubya in that cock enhancing jumpsuit on the deck of the aircraft carrier announcing the end of the Iraqi invasion. That footage is the equivalent of Mike Dukakis riding in that tank with the goofy helmet on. Mission accomplished indeed-- for Kerry, that is.
-Attorneys for Catherine Zeta-Jones are sending out warnings to media outlets not to say she's on the Atkins diet or they'll sue. What a nitpicker diva CZJ has become! She may soon be able to quit acting and just make a living by suing people.
-Hustler magazine plans to publish topless photos of Jessica Lynch, thereby extending her 15 minutes of fame to 20 minutes.
-Didn't Rosie O'Donnell used to be lots more cuddly? She needs to spend some time with Ellen, who makes lesbians seem a lot less scary. Rosie is starting to get that surly dominatrix butch aura, and that scares even us career lesbos!
-Does anyone actually care if Prince Charles buggered his male valet? I mean, come on, after we found out he was shtupping Camilla instead of Diana, did anyone doubt that he's not picky about who gets to ride the Royal Pony?
Talk amongst yourselves...

Saturday, November 08, 2003

Things I Hate

Maybe 'hate' is too strong a word, but I hate it when people say I shouldn't allow myself to hate anything or anyone. Anyway...

-I hate those grocery store bakery cakes with the air brushed blue flowers and that bad icing penmanship on top.
-I hate grape soda.
-I hate finding my long-lost favorite summer T-shirt in January, hidden under a pile of sweaters.
-I hate Hackberry trees.
-I hate any statement that begins with the words, "The Bible says..."
-I hate people who try to talk double-talk or lie and aren't very good at it.
-I hate it when people print something and mix upper case with lower case letters all willy-nilly (LiKe tHis, oNLy iT's HaNd pRiNTed).
-I hate it when white guys call black guys, "my man."
-I hate it when I meet gay men or lesbians who hate the opposite sex.
-I hate that 'izzle' slang: "My bizzle was mizzle wit da snizzle." What the fuck is that, anyway?
-I hate mothballs.
-I hate Kraft Miracle Whip.
-I hate Fox News.
-I hate channel surfing, remote control addicts who like to spend a half hour flipping channels. Pick something, damn it.
-I hate science fiction.
-I hate alliterations when a "K" replaces a "C," as in Kathy's Kookies, Kozy Kitchen, Krazy Kolors, Kitty Kapers, ad nauseam.
-I hate it when someone wants a freebie job and tells me, "it'll be good in your portfolio." At my age, my portfolios are pretty well stocked by now, assbite.
-I hate it when religious people use sanitized cursing, like, "gosh darn" or "H-E-double hockey sticks."
-I hate corny phrases like, "oh, my goodness," "golly gee," "aw shucks," "Heavens to Betsy," etc.
-I hate Anne Heche. Even when she was pretending to be gay I hated her.
-I hate the L.A. Lakers. Even more now that Kobe's an admitted rat and Karl Malone the elbowing flopper and that malcontent crybaby Gary Payton have joined the team. All they need is Danny Bonaduce on the team to get into the all-star obnoxious prick finals.
-I hate it when people stick their index finger in their cheek where a dimple would go, then twist their finger to indicate false modesty.
-Speaking of that move, I hate Lea Thompson, especially when she bites her bottom lip to look coy, or even worse, sexy.
-I hate that song, "Funny Face" by Donna Fargo.
-I hate when my shoes or socks get damp or even worse, wet.
-I hate the way whey protein tastes. It reminds me of powdered meat.
-I hate that doing 80 ab crunches can be canceled out by eating one peanut butter cracker.
-I hate it when people (besides my closest friends or girlfriend) pop in without calling.
-I hate cell phones.
-I hate the way thrift stores that sell used clothing smell.
-I hate the thought of wearing or even trying on some total stranger's used clothing.
-I hate any cologne that can be purchased at a drug store or supermarket.
-I hate candles, soap, or any product that has either a rose scent or a peach scent.
-I hate those tacky plug-in air fresheners.
-I hate those giant tins of stale popcorn they sell at places like Walmart, with the poinsettias or reindeer or Santas painted on them.
-I hate whirly gigs, those flimsy, twirly things people stick in their lawns.
-I hate 95% of all bumper strikers.
-I hate that decorative wallpaper trim people use where the wall meets the ceiling.
-I hate those redecorating-on-a-budget TV shows where they make really cheesy projects, like bookcases out of 1x12's and architectural glass bricks, or they cover things using a glue gun, cotton batting and shiny quilted fabric. Or mix the colors pink and brown.
-I hate Earl Grey tea.
-I hate when someone's dog smells my kitties on me and thinks it's okay to climb all over me, sniffing and trying to lick the scent off.
-I hate it when friends kiss me on the lips and they have damp lips. Lip kisses should be rare, fast, dry and chaste unless it's one's lover.
-I hate it when people in the gym don't remove their 150 pounds of weights off the barbells when they are finished...or when I accidentally come in contact with some rude bastard's sweat on a piece of equipment.
-I hate it when I get into a swelteringly hot car on a humid day, then start having a hot flash, just after getting a haircut.
-I hate it when I buy my cats a $10 toy and they ignore it in favor of a stray bit of cellophane the toy was wrapped in.
-I hate the thought of jerky made from anything but beef.
-I hate to see fly swatters or toilet plungers in plain view. They need to be hidden when not in use!

What do you hate?

Thursday, November 06, 2003

Survivor Guesses

Just in time for Halloween, in the last episode six booted ghosts returned to the mix, making up the Outcast tribe.
The outcasts included Burton the hunky San Francisco treat, Lillian the old geezer scout mistress, Michelle the woman who gives SpaceMonk a rise in his Levis, Nicole who nobody remembers, Ryan S. the skinny speedfreak, and Trish who Rupert would probably like to kill and eat for protein.
The Outcasts whipped Drake and Morgan's asses in the immunity challenge, making for the elimination of Trish and Ostin. Both were tedious lumps.
Tonight the Outcasts get to vote two members back into the game.
Burton is a natural to return to Drake. He's too purty to be left out.
Morgan deserves to get Lillian back. Just her wobbly chin when she pouts and her soiled, mildewed scout uniform are reasons enough.
Your bets?

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

All Over the Map!

My morning e-mail has actually produced enough crap to Blog about, so here goes...

*From the Daily Mislead:
"President Bush toured a manufacturing plant in Alabama Monday, touting the success of his tax cut policies. "I went to the Congress, not once, but twice, and said, in order for people to be able to find work here in the country, let's pass meaningful, real tax relief." But the President's policies have thus far not resulted in jobs-since his first tax cut passed in 2001, the economy has lost a net of 2.75 million jobs..."

*CBS decided to scrap its controversial miniseries about the Reagans. Seems the same network that scrapped the "60 Minutes" piece about the tobacco industry has again caved in to pressure, this time to the paranoid right wing. Maybe I can sum it up. The miniseries must have mentioned Reagan knocking up Nancy before they married and his criminal involvement in Iran Contra. The good news is, Showtime bought the rights to the series and will be showing it early next year. CBS must stand for "Conservative Bull Shit."

* Rosie O'Donnell's Broadway play, "Taboo," starring Boy George is said to be a real loser. That's too bad. I fail to see how a queer-produced play starring a queer can fail in New York.

* Al Sharpton will be on Saturday Night Live on Dec. 6. I still like him better than Bush.

* Elizabeth Hasselbeck, the cute little blonde from a past Survivor run, is trying out to be the fifth co-host of "The View."

Friday, October 31, 2003

News Salad Blog

1. "NY TIMES: WASHINGTON (Oct. 31)” Saddam Hussein may be playing a significant role in coordinating and directing attacks by his loyalists against American forces in Iraq, senior American officials said Thursday. The officials cited recent intelligence reports indicating that Mr. Hussein is acting as a catalyst or even a leader in the armed opposition, probably from a base of operations near Tikrit, his hometown and stronghold. A leadership role by Mr. Hussein would go far beyond anything previously acknowledged by the Bush administration..."

Gee, does this mean the MISSION ACCOMPLISHED sign behind Dubya's head on that aircraft carrier was incorrect? Does this mean Saddam is still out there, fighting us? Didn't the president assure us his reign was over?
What nonsense.
Basically, we've spent $30 billion in Iraq to knock over a few statues. More American soldiers have died after the war than during the war. Anyone who said before the war that attacking Iraq was a good idea was wrong.

2. NPR recently ran a long piece about Donald Rumsfeld losing his mojo. Several news agencies also have questioned his abilities. Just go here for the real mojo:
Rummy Talks

Thursday, October 30, 2003

Survivor Prediction!

Tonight some of the booted cast members will be back to haunt the survivors. They were all pretty bland, so I don't expect too many fireworks.
As for the latest boots, in the Drake tribe, Rupert will be plenty pissed at Jon for voting against him last week, so he may go after him. On the other hand, Shawn is pretty worthless too, so he may get the ax.
Real pirates would just kill the creepy tribe members and eat them or use them for bait, but I guess killing Jon is more than we can ask.
As for the Morgan tribe, hell, I just don't know. Smart money would bet on getting rid of Andrew because he's the most powerful. But the Morgans aren't smart. Common sense would be to dump Ostin because he's such a puss, but the Morgans haven't got much common sense, either. I still bet on Tijuana, for the sole reason that she pronounces her name "Tah WANNA" and that just irks me.

Monday, October 27, 2003

Electile Dysfunction

Hear me now and believe me later!
When the 2004 election rhetoric starts getting hot and heavy, the GOP are going to be hammering away at one issue to take the voter's minds off the messes Bush and his ilk have made: GAY MARRIAGE.
Ask about Iraq? They'll wedge in gay marriage. Ask about the economy? Gay marriage! Ask about skyrocketing medical costs and no affordable insurance coverage for millions of Americans? Gay marriage!
Yes, even though the Democratic platform doesn't endorse gay marriage and probably won't, watch, the GOP will speak as if electing a Democrat will force every American man, woman and child into taking part in gay marriages and registering at Home Depot and Sak's Fifth Avenue to buy gay wedding gifts for queers they don't even know.
Equality for gays and lesbians won't be the issue. Mention civil rights equality for gays to a GOP hopeful and they'll mention the Bible, then of course, gay marriage.
Fine, then let us queers pay gay taxes.
We can deduct a percentage for each right denied us as American citizens because we are gay. Seem fair? Yeah, right.
Gay marriage will the magic bullet the GOP uses to scare impressionable conservatives into continuing to support the regressive crooks who currently hold office, and electing new crooks to continue looting and pillaging our tax dollars.

Friday, October 24, 2003

Halliburton: Major Crooks, Shielded by The Resident

As everyone knows, Halliburton is a mega construction company, once fronted by Dick Cheney.
Now that the U.S. is rebuilding Iraq, Halliburton was awarded billions in contracts without having to bid for them. The contents and terms of the contracts were shielded from public view, citing "national security reasons."
Halliburton is accused of price gouging.
For instance, a sheet of plywood costing around $15 at Home Depot runs around $89 when Halliburton sells it to us for use in Iraq.
A gallon of gas Halliburton sells us to use in Iraq is running around $1.65 a gallon, whereas gas they truck in from Syria runs about 89 cents a gallon.
Halliburton has a $7 billion, no-bid contract they snagged from the Bush administration.
And nobody is acting like we're getting screwed, and nobody is demanding that Bush tell us why Cheney's company didn't have to bid for this sweetheart deal and doesn't have to tell us what's in the deal.
Criminals are leading our nation and nobody's raising hell.
Clinton was impeached for lying about a blow job, and Bush is screwing all of us and nobody's saying anything.
Has everyone gone mad?

Thursday, October 23, 2003

Survivor Hunch!

Gee, so many complaints that all I Blog is Survivor crap now...
Sorry, I am busy these days with this annoying thing called work. These people give me money to write things for them, but the trouble is they want everything on their terms.
Feh! Now they insist on these things called deadlines. Sheesh.
Anyway, tonight as my best friend Anna and I scarf down pizza and watch the hapless castaways vie to stick around, it's time to pick the likely losers.
On Drake, I pick Jon. I just can't stand him, that's why. Or Sandra. She's bitchy. Still, with the way they pick, I guess Shawn will be the real loser. So make my guess Shawn.
On Morgan, I think it's time to send Tijuana on her way. No reason, other than that silly name Tijuana. Ostin the wuss should go, but he's still exempt for some reason.
An AOL poll predicts Rupert will win it all, with 75% of the vote. Next up is Andrew, with only 5%. The rest are all around 2%. What a bunch of losers.
Who are you picking tonight?

Thursday, October 16, 2003

Survivor Update!

With Rupert consigned to the motley Morgan tribe, I'm sure things will be magically transformed at their dumpy camp. Rupert will build them a nice split level home, catch them a school of fish, show them how to smoke the fish to preserve it for the duration of the show,
make them all new outfits and create outdoor Malibu lights out of electric eels.Then he'll counsel the tribe until Osten is strong and brave, Darrah loses her horrible accent, Andrew becomes modest and nurturing, Tijuana becomes demure, and Ryan O becomes an expert fisherman using only a sharp stick.
Meanwhile, the Rupertless Drake tribe will come unglued. A storm will flatten their shelter. Wild monkeys will steal all the treasure
chest booty.Jon will be beaten half to death in the dark and all of them will be suspects. Sandra will flip out and attack Shawn. The other girls will start picking on Trish for being middle aged. Trish will start an early menopause from the stress and scare all the fish out of the cove from her piercing screams.
I predict Drake will lose the immunity challenge and they will vote off Jon, if he's still alive. If not Jon, then Sandra,
If Morgan loses, say bye bye to Tijuana. Darrah is still too pretty to get the boot and Tijuana has too much 'tude.

Wednesday, October 15, 2003

Delicious Bloggy Bits

I don't have enough to say about any single topic, so I'll just get random on you.

-My personal training sessions have been going great. I've lost only 8 pounds so far, but I've lost a few clothing sizes, several inches, and my body looks and feels totally different now.
My trainer Willie is a buff, black body builder who loves it when I wear the Roots T-shirts I got in Canada to train in. He thinks it's Roots, as in the Alex Haley book and miniseries about slavery. When I wear them, he calls me Kunta Kinte and assumes I am willing to work really hard on those days.
I've started endurance training, where I move from bench pressing to machines and back to bench pressing very quickly. It burns calories and builds muscles almost in double time. I am up to bench pressing 65 pounds. I even wear little black leather lifting gloves now! I can't recommend it enough for people who like to eat normally and hate to diet. It really chews up the calories and keeps my glucose levels below 100, which are well within normal, non-diabetic range.

-After a few brief dips in the road, I am still seeing my girlfriend la. She's starting to come around in some areas, like appreciating shoe shopping as a deeply spiritual experience, and the joys of wearing something besides jeans and shorts to dinner.
Experts say the shopping virus cannot be passed through intimate contact, but we have disproved that theory.

-Summer is over in South Texas and life is normal again. My pecan tree out back is spewing out bushels of fat pecans, my air conditioning is off, and my cats are starting to get snugly again. Best news is, my hair is finally dry after being damp from humidity since May.

-Our queer high holy day, Halloween, is neigh. I was invited to a schnitzy gay masquerade ball, but they insist on guests wearing masks as a condition of being admitted. I wear glasses, I can't do masks. Instead, I think I'll spend the evening handing out goodies while la takes her kids trick or treating. Since candy is bad for kids, again this year I'll be handing out free America Online CD's that I'll gather from every store counter in town. Just kidding- but it would be funny.

-While I was busy taping Survivor episodes for her over the last three weeks, my best friend Anna was in Ethiopia. She witnessed the country's first open heart surgery while she was there, but I stayed behind doing the important business of guessing who would be booted off Survivor next.

-The more I hear about OxyContin, the narcotic Rush Limbaugh is in rehab trying to kick, the more convinced I am he was doing all that right wing blathering while he was too stoned to have any sense. I wonder if, when he gets clean, he'll make more rational statements? Nah- after years of being stoned out of his mind he'll probably have brain damage and continue to pimp for the right
wing. Remember when he ragged on Clinton about not inhaling?
Yep. Paybacks are a bitch, Rush.

Monday, October 13, 2003

Making a Great Exit

Hats off to ousted California Governor Gray Davis, who used his final stretch in office to sign a bill enacting a measure that will require large companies with state contracts to offer domestic partners the same benefits as spouses.
Democrats called this measure a victory for fairness and civil rights.
Republicans said it would trample the rights of employers who objected to gay relationships.
Yeah, in the 60's some employers in the Deep South objected to treating Negroes the same as white folks, and they too balked over legislation that ensured equal treatment.
History has shown that small minded hatemongers need legislation to compensate for their lack of conscience and socially regressive mindsets.
Governor-Elect Arnold Schwarzenegger had asked Davis to sign no more bills before leaving office, but he acknowledged Davis' right to do so.
With Arnold's ties to gays in show business, plus his legendary, earlier debt to gay men who supported his freakish body building career, one would think he'd agree with the measure.
Alas, Republicans rarely advocate for the will of the people over that of big business interests.

Saturday, October 11, 2003

Rush 'OxyContin' Limbaugh, and that other Creep

Finally, the extreme right's greatest gasbag has done something right.
He's publicly admitted being addicted to narcotic pain killers.
That the drugs have clearly addled his brain notwithstanding, he was wise to cop to it and be done with the relentless rumors.
Of course, he's probably seeking treatment to avoid criminal prosecution over buying them in bulk illegally over the Internet, but still he was wise to fess up and face the public's notoriously short memory.
Maybe now he won't feel entitled to have such a holier than thou attitude.
He's just a regular hophead now, not unlike Robert Downey, Jr. or Courtney Love.
No wonder he made those lamebrained remarks about that black quarterback and how the media was kissing his ass. He was probably zoned out on OxyContin when he spoke, which as I mentioned is a powerful and addictive narcotic pain killer.
Oh well, he may catch a little humility as he kicks his addiction.
Yeah, right.

Meanwhile in Colorado, Kobe Bryant's preliminary hearing in the rape case has provided the public with some pretty gruesome details about the "alleged" rape.
Bryant has been quoting a lot of Biblical scripture lately, and sporting a new arm tattoo of Psalm XXVII, spelled out in its 23-word entirety.
He also wears a huge cross around his neck and tells anyone who'll listen he's all about God first, family second and basketball a distant third.
Amazing how he's never mentioned religion before. Gee, I wonder how the spirit has suddenly filled his soul?
Uh huh.
Anyway, back at the preliminary hearing:
According to the reporting officer's testimony, Bryant raped the victim while he held by her by the neck over a chair, and took her from behind. She was reported to have vaginal tearing, bruising and facial bruises upon examination by medical personnel.
This so-called consensual sex all happened within about a 20-minute time frame.
Even a diehard groupie would probably take umbrage being unceremoniously boinked from behind over a chair like a $10 blowup doll, then tossed out on her ass, all within 20 minutes.
Bryant was said to have been found with her blood on the front hem of his shirt. You know, sort of where blood would land if he was raping her from behind.
That she was a hotel employee doing her job as a concierge kind of dispels the groupie image. A concierge is supposed to cater to the rich and powerful with things like personal tours of the facilities and all. So what if she was kind of wowed that the famous Kobe Bryant was paying her attention?
She admitted consensually kissing and hugging him. Hey, she's a 19-year-old girl, she probably wanted to tell her pals she made out with Kobe.
But I think if she'd consented to sexual intercourse, she might have wanted to do it in his bed, and not thrown ass-up over a chair and shtupped from behind until her vaginal flesh was ripped.
Reporters said Bryant was looking quite uncomfortable, and even cringing, when the police officer gave his testimony.
He should be uncomfortable. Even sports pundits who adore him are saying this doesn't look very good for him.
And his female lawyer?
She mentioned the victim's name at least six times in court, in flagrant violation of Colorado law designed to protect the anonymity of rape victims.
This same victim has already had her life threatened by crazed Lakers fans, so one would think she might be extra edgy about having her name repeatedly dragged through court.
The judge finally cleared the courtrrom when Bryant's sleazeball of a whorebag lawyer asked the police officer if the vaginal tearing was similar to what would occur after having rough sex with three different men in as many days.
I am glad Bryant's being tried in Colorado. They have excellent rape laws there, designed to protect the victim, not the rapist.
If Bryant were tried in Los Angeles, like O.J. Simpson, he'd be exonerated and hailed as a conquering hero.
I hope when this is all over, Kobe takes a shine to his attorney's teenage daughter and decides to "date her" for 20 minutes or so.
Lucky gal. Too bad she'll have her back turned and miss the romance of it all.

Friday, October 10, 2003

Survivor Recap

The reason they filmed Survivor Panama in advance was to stop us from flying to their remote locale to kill Jon the skinny, curly headed dork.
Sandra, the rough Latina from the Drake tribe, is being driven crazy by everyone. "I'm getting tired of hearin' tha crap, he don' geet up early, we geet up early and he's still esleepin. My day is ruin now, hearin tha crap."
Hey Sandra, Rosie Perez called and said she wants her accent back.
Burton, the pretty boy, was pissing Rupert Hagrid off. A man doesn't like to hear his skirt criticized constantly, and Burton was relentless. So what if Rupe's crack was showing? The man can fish.
When Drake won a funky old sewing machine in the reward challenge, Rupert made himself a lovely, khaki a-line skirt. I'll bet San Franciscan Burton was jealous over Rupert's couture savvy.
Osten, from the loser Morgan tribe, again showed his incredible pussyosity by nearly drowning, and needing Andrew and Ryan to save him during the challenge. Someone, please send him back to his Mama. He's a Vienna sausage disguised as a big salami.
When Drake located their buried treasure, instead of rejoicing, Jon the blonde creep bitched because something stinky leaked on all the blankets and stuff.
He called it a Ghetto Christmas and listed everything that "smelled like crap."
So, the winning Drake tribe decided to blow the immunity challenge so they could thin out the herd. When they lost, the loser Morgan tribe got to take Rupert as their temporary tribesman.
Natural selection would have chosen Jon to be ousted from the Drakes, but for some odd reason, they gave pretty boy Burton the boot. On behalf of my gay male friends, I am sorry. On behalf of the rest of us, I am sorry because it means having to watch more of that idiot Jon.
In addition to being Barney Fife of the schemers, Jon also uses excess dude-slang, like "awesome," "stoked" and "feeling funky like a monkey." He also proved that alcohol plus a skinny wimp equals legendary televised creepiness.
At tribal council, where Jon was still drunk and mouthy, Jeff Probst asked if he was being too cavalier, then gave him a classic look that could kill.
If only!

Wednesday, October 08, 2003

Survivor Ticklers

I hear gossip.
Andrew and Ryan from the loser Morgan tribe get lost in the jungle without water. Of course, with cameras on them they can't be that lost, but this is TV not rocket science.
One tribe is said to discover buried treasure- but it's probably not good treasure like a case of Snickers or some juice boxes. It's probably some rusty old blunderbuss.
At tribal counsel, someone is drunk on whiskey and makes a spectacle of himself.
That clue alone tells me the Drake tribe will be at Tribal Counsel and Hagrid will be the drunk and rowdy guy. If that's the case- buh bye to Jon the curly blonde geek.
If it's Morgan again, bye to Darrah or adios to Tequila. Or Tijuana. Whatever.
Place your bets, folks.

Saturday, October 04, 2003

Not About Bush or Survivor

Okay, since all I ever Blog about these days are one of those two topics, I will now attempt to change the subject, with some random observations.
- There is no reasonable way to wear a sweater draped over one's shoulders without looking like a clown. The catalogs all feature that look to sell more sweaters, but in real life that look lacks functionality and makes the wearer look like he or she wants to be Jackie O.
-How many catalogs do LL Bean, Eddie Bauer and Land's End think I need per week?
-My ex girlfriend told me she was initially impressed with her new lover because she didn't trash her ex. She went on to say her new lover doesn't think much of me, in fact she has an intense dislike for me. Must have been something she heard, since we don't know each other. Isn't that ironic?
-I just enrolled in a great new phone plan that allows me free long distance calls all the time. Send me your number- let's talk.
-A friend of mine just moved into a great but funky old apartment. The window air conditioners send out dog-scented air. How can that be eliminated?
-No matter how much you work out or how developed your muscles have become, moving furniture will always end up hurting your back.
-Kids will eat anything if it's shaped like a dinosaur.
-Why did Sears stop selling popcorn and warm, roasted nuts?
-The weapons inspectors didn't find any WMD's in Iraq during the course of their search. Now they want more time and millions more in funding to continue the search. That's like the termite inspector coming to your house, inspecting, finding nothing then suggesting they keep checking once a week just in case.
-Rush Limbaugh had a constitutional right to make those racist comments on ESPN. They cost him his job, but I defend his right to make an ass of himself. Maybe it was the illegal pain killers that made him do it. I noticed he didn't have much to say about THAT topic.
-If Shwartzenegger gets elected, California deserves him. I used to kind of like him, but with the recent dirt coming out on him he seems pretty creepy. I remember seeing him as a weightlifter back when I lived at Venice Beach in the 70's. I thought he was just one of the gay muscle boys back then.
-Roy of Siegfried and Roy was attacked and critically injured by a tiger during a show at the Mirage. Roy, the brunette, is still in the hospital. The tiger assailant was making his stage debut when he attacked him. Perhaps they should sell him to Mike Tyson.

Thursday, October 02, 2003


I think maybe Sandra the spicy Latina will get the ax tonight if the Drake tribe has to vote someone off. Or maybe goofy Jon- he's just annoying in general. If it's Morgan (again) I think the old scoutmaster Lillian will be eliminated. The fire is started, they don't need her anymore.
Your guesses?

Monday, September 29, 2003

Bush Whacked

It's gotten to be a little too easy finding things to criticize about the resident and his administration.
You have to wonder if former CIA Director George Herbert Walker Bush called his errant son and admonished him for allowing his handler Karl Rove to out the wife of former Ambassador Joseph Wilson as a CIA agent. Not to be picky, but identifying a CIA agent to the media is not only a felony, it's tantamount to treason, according to a speech made by George H.W. Bush back in his CIA days.
For Dubya to claim in his campaign speeches that his presidency would restore integrity to the Oval Office was just one more horrendous lie.
Ambassador Wilson told the world Dubya had lied about Iraq trying to buy uranium from Africa. Soon thereafter, columnist Robert Novak cited anonymous government sources when he divulged that Mrs. Wilson was a CIA agent, working on the weapons of mass destruction non-issue.
Dubya has stated through his press secretary that Karl Rove was not involved in the treasonous crime. Okay, if he's sure it wasn't Rove, then who was it?
This leak to the media makes Clinton lying to Congress about getting a blowjob totally trivial. In fact, a leak like this is far worse than Watergate.
This was treason and it happened on the amiable dunce's watch.
Gee, maybe John Ashcroft can investigate it and prosecute the criminals involved. That is, if he's not the one who leaked the story.

Friday, September 26, 2003

Survivor Recap

Yep, I called this one right. They booted Skinny Ryan (as they called him) off the show last night after he wimped out royally on the reward challenge. Why do we get to call skinny people skinny right to their faces when we can't call fat people fat unless it's behind their backs?
Anyway, the most interesting part of last night's show was uberbuff Osten whining about his disease, Whatif Syndrome. "Whatif I get pneumonia, whatif I get fluid in my lungs, whatif I stub my toe, whatif I get jock itch..." He's built like an Olympian god but he kvetches like a Jewish bubelah. He wants to go home because he's cold in just his man-panties and he 'might get sick.'
He actually asked his tribe members to vote him off. I say suck it up, clown. Apparently, so did his teammates.
So far, the horse to bet on is Rupert. He's one of those crazy guys who has probably had a lot of therapy so he can keep his seething, repressed rage under control. For a fat guy (don't tell him I said that) he's pretty active under the water, spearing enough fish to open a Long John Silver franchise.
When Shawn, the Jewish guy with the Irish first name, lost the prongs on Rupert's fishing spear in the middle of the ocean, I thought Rupert was going to pimp slap him. Instead he swam out and found the damn thing.
In an early poll, 56 percent said Rupert will be the ultimate winner. Burton and Sandra tied for second place, with a measly 8 percent each. All those buff Alpha dogs I thought I saw in Episode 1 have apparently gone Beta dog on us.
Let's hear it for the fat guy. Woof.

Wednesday, September 24, 2003

Survivor: Update and Preview

Nicole, the massage therapist from Hermosa Beach, CA was the first to get the boot on last week's Survivor premier. Poor dear tried to be conniving but she forgot how to midstream.
In the 70's, I lived just north of Hermosa in Manhattan Beach, and as I recall Hermosa Beach was an ideal place to get drunk, score drugs, get laid, get drunk, get stoned and... aw hell, I forget the rest.
Yes, Hermosa is where excess brain cells go to die. Just ask Nicole.
Adieu, Nicole. The cool thing is, like, you'll probably forget you were even on Survivor, like really fast, man.
For this Thursday, look to Hagrid to mix it up with mega Alpha dog Andrew Savage, in a classic battle of big, hairy, suppressed angry guy in a floral flirt skirt versus overly buffed, uptight, mean lawyer son of a bitch in Armani cutoffs.

On the chopping block this time?
Look to Ryan Shoulders, the ne'er do well hippie/nerdy kid who tried to score acid in a druggie newsgroup online, or Trish Dunn, the 42-year-old from Maryland who makes plain oatmeal look like flaming cherries jubilee.
Ryan is annoying and Trish is entirely disposable.

Sidebar: Osten Tatious wore those red boxer briefs down to nubs last week, with the waist elastic apparently gone missing and his ass n' hangy stuff bobbling around in plain view. His hunky pals were only too eager to show off their manpanties, too.
By now you can add stinky and nasty to the undies mix, so that should add some visual interest for the straight girls and gay boys out there. We dykes will just watch the near-naked men prancing around and say "eeuuwwww" a lot.
Thank God for the video blurring tool. That's all I'm saying.

Tuesday, September 23, 2003


Dear Readers,

My ancient browser, my outdated AOL version, BlogSpot's revamped system fucking up the date on my publisher and my general computer ineptitude have caused an unfortunate delay in my ability to post Blogs in a timely manner.
I wish to thank Grey Bird for her saintly willingness to post recent Blogs for me, but I am trying not to inundate her with requests so that my standard Survivor Blogs will still have a shot of being published, thanks to her largess.
While I am disabled, I offer the following topics for discussion in my
comments box:
· Bush begging the UN to bail him out in a pathetic speech to the UN General Assembly.
· General Wesley Clark, a nice Democrat, passing up the resident in recent polls.
· That Mitsubishi ad is back, the one with the horrible chick in the pink hat doing the popping dance in the passenger seat while her male companion with the livid gingivitis looks on approvingly. Why is it back?
· USA network running tons of Law & Order SVU reruns with Mariska Hargitay looking so hot I want to lick the TV screen. Agree?
· Summer is over and it's cool in Texas and I love it. Your weather?
· My girlfriend and I are still happily together, making a new record for us not breaking up for six weeks already. Who lost the bet?
· All of AOL's tech support telephone staff seem to be from Punjab, India now.
· Howard Dean's fabulous quotes: "This campaign is not about who will be the
2004 Democratic presidential nominee but who will protect democracy and the nation's ideals from the Bush administration.
''Democracy itself is at stake in this election,'' Dean said in Boston. ''The extreme right wing has shown nothing but contempt for democracy.''
Pointing to a flag on the platform, Dean said, ''This flag does not belong to Rush Limbaugh, Jerry Falwell, John Ashcroft, Tom DeLay and Dick Cheney. This flag belongs to us and we want our country.''

Talk amongst yourselves.

Thursday, September 18, 2003

Survivor Preview!

Here's a list of the contestants for Survivor Panama (previews tonight at 7 cst)and my assessment of each.
-Rupert Boneham, 39, a mentor for troubled teens, from Indianapolis. Sounds like an advice giver to me. With a name like Rupert Boneham, my guess is he got his ass kicked a lot as a teen. Guy looks like Hagrid.
-Tijuana Bradley, 27, pharmaceutical sales, from St. Louis. Name a kid Tijuana and you get a bar brawler on your hands. Afraid TJ will be the show's token angry black chick. Cool!
-Shawn Cohen, 28, advertising sales, from New York City. A nice Jewish kid from NYC with an Irish first name.
-Jon Dalton, 29, an art consultant from Danville, Va. Art consultant? Is that a real job? Seems Jon has had a little DUI history in Los Angeles. Dude!
-Nicole Delma, 25, a massage therapist from Hermosa Beach, Calif. A blonde, beach-based massage therapist? Slutty!
-Sandra Diaz-Twine, 29, an office assistant from Fort Lewis, Wash. A very sweet girl. Let's kick her ass off!
-Trish Dunn, 42, a sales executive from Annapolis, Md. Too old to be cute, too cute to be hated for being too old.
-Christa Hastie, 24, a computer programmer from Los Angeles. Token dumb blonde? She posted queries as to where to find methamphetamine on a usenet illegal drug newsgroup and used her real name. You be the judge.
-Darrah Johnson, 22, a mortician from Liberty, Miss. Woo, an attractive, enigmatic mortician. Creepy? Sultry? We'll have to wait and see.
-Lillian Morris, 51, a scout troop leader from in Cincinnati. Hey Lillian, Boy George and Annie Hall called, they want their look back.
-Ryan Opray, 31, an electrician from Los Gatos, Calif. The token hunky blue collar dude who likes to use his big Ford F150 truck to mess up peoples' lawns after a night of heavy drinking.
-Burton Roberts, 31, a marketing executive from San Francisco. What exactly is a marketing executive? Does that mean he shops a lot in San Francisco?
-Andrew Savage, 40, an attorney from Chicago. The potential Alpha Dog.
-Ryan Shoulders, 23, a produce clerk from Clarksville, Tenn. The Smoking Gun reported that this little dude uses drug newsgroups to look for good acid in Tennessee. Wow, dude.
-Osten Taylor, 27, an equity trade manager from Boston. Hmm, his name sounds a lot like Ostentatious. I'm betting he will be.
Michelle Tesauro, 22, a student from Pittstown, N.J. Poor kid has that 'too much time in the library' look. Let's kill her and eat her!

Wednesday, September 17, 2003

Work Work Work and Another Baby

My week has been consumed so far with the kind of work where one must iron clothing, get presentable and drive to places to get information to turn into stories. Arggh.

Meanwhile, my friends Cynthia and Ruben welcome to their home baby Caleb, who was born September 14 and taken home yesterday. I haven't seen him yet but he's supposed to be a huge newborn, at 9 pounds and some-odd ounces. This makes three babies my friends have had or adopted in the last four months. Plus Melly's already big baby, Mattie.
Methinks there's some baby puke in my future, somehow, some way.
This is a test performed by Blogger Control.

Friday, September 12, 2003

What can $87 billion buy?

The idiot in the White House has squandered $87 billion of our dough over this Iraq boondoggle, and he seems not to get that he fucked up. What else could we have done with the money?

- We could have outfitted every airport in America with state of the art cargo and luggage screening capabilities that would virtually tell operators what brand of chewing gum was hidden inside a crate full of surface-to-air missiles. After that, we'd still have $77 billion left.
- We could pay off every deficit in every state in America, yes, even California.
- We could pay unemployment benefits to everyone Bush has caused to lose jobs, for the next two years.
- We could double what America spends on "homeland security." Then we wouldn't have to go out looking for trouble with every tin horn Arab lunatic who ever thumbed his nose at Dubya's daddy.
- We could fund Title I educational programs for seven years.
- We could fund after school programs for children for the next 87 years.
- We could spend ten times more than we do on environmental protection.

Yes folks, he's squandered our money to make Iraq a better place to live. And he wants another $87 billion or so to keep improving Iraq.

Was it just me, or did everyone else think once the war ended, Iraq's oil stash would pay for their home improvements?
Is it just me, or do others not give much of a damn about Iraq's infrastructure?
Is it just me, or do others think Saudi Arabia had more to do with 9/11 than Iraq?
Is it just me, or did others think Saddam in 2002 was in about the same league as Khadaffi, David Cassidy, Pat Benatar, Flock of Seagulls and ladies wearing big shoulder pads?

For the life of me, I cannot see how anyone can make excuses for Dubya any longer. He's too dumb to be a madman and too powerful to be harmless. Soon, even his most rabid Republican right wing fanatical allies will be avoiding him at parties and stop returning his calls.
This clown makes me miss Richard Nixon.
Farewell, Sue

One of the few country music artists I loved, Johnny Cash, died this morning from diabetes complications.
One of the last CD's I bought was a compilation of his best songs.
I played it when la and I were on the outs last summer because, "Burning Ring of Fire" made me feel stronger, for some reason.
My pal Robert (aka Nashvillian) had special ties to the Cash family, and when June Carter Cash passed away back in May, he told me mourners at her funeral said Johnny would soon follow, because June was his heart.
I guess she was.
Rest in peace, Johnny. You were amazing.

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Nine Eleven

Two years later and still no Bin Laden.
Billions spent in the Middle East and still no domestic airport security on
the level we need to be truly secure.
Suddenly it's treasonous to call our lying president a liar. He is a liar. No
libel there, just like there are no WMD's in Iraq.
"Dixie Chicked" has become a term that means "exercise your first amendment
rights and be condemned." All Natalie Mains said was she was ashamed Bush was
from Texas.
I'm a Texan who's ashamed he's from Texas. Many of us are ashamed of him.
He dropped his fucking dog, how stupid is that guy?
He's dragged our country away from logic, reason and civil discourse.
He told the UN "fuck you" before the war he started, now he's asking for
their help to clean up the $6 billion a month mess he made.
Their answer should be "Fuck you, George."
He dodged the draft, then had the colossal balls to don the flightsuit many
of our warriors have fought and died in to stage a premature victory rally on a
naval ship while families of true warriors waited onshore to see their loved
He didn't call it a victory, he was too chickenshit for that, but the banner
behind him read, "Mission Accomplished." Another lie.
We have viable candidates to replace this moron.
Gen. Wesley Clark, Howard Dean, even John Kerry would bring dignity back to
the White House.
Two years after 9/11 and we are in worse shape than ever under this crooked,
spineless leadership.
American people are starting to realize that anyone could have said the right
'go get em' words on 9/11/2001 and sounded reassuring.
Fact is, George W. Bush was the wrong man at the wrong time and he's failed
us miserably. We deserve more. He's got to go.

Monday, September 08, 2003

My Fried Green Tomatoes/Towanda Moment

This afternoon I was minding my own business, pulling into a parking space at a shopping center. As I pulled in, a teal blue Malibu started honking from the left side of my car. Apparently the young, female driver had eyed the spot from 100 feet away and called dibs on it from a distance.
So, I parked and she jumped out of her car and hovered next to my car- mouthing "fuck you" at me.
I sized her up and figured I could kick her ass if the need arose, so I unbuckled my seat belt, rolled up the sleeves of my T-shirt, and got out of the car as she jumped back in her Malibu and locked the door.
I walked to her rolled-up driver's side window and said, "What's the problem, nitwit?"
She replied, "You took my fucking parking spot, you fucking bitch."
Patiently, I smiled and pointed to the next aisle where two blank spots stood even closer to the entrance. "Park over there," I said.
"Fuck you, bitch, you park over there," she replied.
"I already have a spot, you park over there, potty mouth."
By then I'd had enough of the little whippersnapper.
So I laughed and kicked at her door, just hard enough to make a loud noise but not dent the surface.
That really got her pissed off, behind her locked door and rolled up window.
"You dented my car, you bitch."
Pretending I did, I replied, "Yeah, so?"
"I'm calling the cops," she warned.
"Okie dokie," I smiled. "Tell them I'll be inside, shopping."
When I finished shopping she was idling in front of the store, waiting for me.
I just looked at her, pointed and laughed as I walked by.
When I got far enough away, she rolled down her window and said, "The cops are coming, you fucking bitch!"
I just chuckled and drove away at a leisurely pace.
Poor kid, she thinks the cops come when someone calls to report a parking space tiff.
And she never knew she was messing with Towanda.
And Then, a Little Light Turned on

Chari over at TECHFLUID posed a question about gay marriage. In my response, I used the term theocracy to describe the Resident's regime.
I looked it up to be sure I was using it correctly.
Dig this:
Main Entry: the·oc·ra·cy
Pronunciation: thE-'รค-kr&-sE
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural -cies
Etymology: Greek theokratia, from the- + -kratia -cracy
Date: 1622
1 : government of a state by immediate divine guidance or by officials who are regarded as divinely guided
2 : a state governed by a theocracy

That's when the light turned on.
America is a democracy. Not a theocracy.
Bush proudly proclaims he was told by God to be president, and is guided by God in his decision making.
Nothing wrong with that, except we live in a democracy.
He was (sort of) elected to run a democracy. Democracy means, "a state governed by the people." No God mentioned there.
I love God, don't get me wrong, but in my job as a writer my clients would balk if I started crediting God for their latest product or innovation. I can honestly say I have never used the word God in one article I have written for profit.
Now at least I can say the Dubya's basic problem is he signed on to lead a democracy and opted instead to lead a theocracy. With that as the root, I can see why he started off on the wrong foot and has stayed there ever since.

Sunday, September 07, 2003

Why Me?

The trouble with being an all-inclusive lesbian is I have straight friends who have things like baby showers.
The trouble with having career oriented straight women friends is they wait forever to have or adopt babies, and at my age I am still attending baby showers.
Today's baby shower is for my friend Cynthia, who's a psychology professor at a local university. She traveled all the way to China to get her new baby, Maya.
The last baby shower was for Eleanor. I made a baby carriage out of a watermelon and filled it with all kinds of fruits. I bought a little outfit and a card for the baby. Alas, I showed up at Anna's looking like Nick Nolte in his DUI mugshot, so Anna kindly excused me from the melee.
That plan won't work this time. This shower is at 5 p.m. so there'll be no excuse not to get gussied up and go.
My girlfriend declined my invitation to attend the shower with me. I believe she used the delicate term, "no fucking way."
Then she tried to send me to Babies R Us to get the gift. Alone. She wouldn't even let me borrow her 9-year-old daughter Emma to take with me.
Oh, sure. Like the shower won't be enough, she thinks I'll drive to the suburbs all by myself to mingle with the gaga googoo set to buy the gift.
Luckily, my friend the other Cynthia is hosting this shower. That means her cool husband Ruben and her cool brother Robert will be there. That means wine, and maybe even cigars.
So, as we play baby bottle bingo and pin the tail on the stork, at least I'll have copped a nice buzz.

Saturday, September 06, 2003

Survivor Is Coming Back!

After a long season sans Survivor, I am happy to say Pulp Friction is ready to pounce on the new season with voyeuristic gusto, starting September 18.
Thanks to The Smoking Gun we have a preview that some of this season's misfits love their recreational drugs like speed, coke and acid.
Just before the show premiers, I'll be giving a rundown of the new contestants and their individual proclivities.
I may even offer a pick the winner contest, with a semi valuable prize to the correct picker. It may have been a better prize, but with this economy and all...
So, who among you will be joining me in watching this season?

Friday, September 05, 2003

At the Hospital

I saw my new GYN Oncologist today, who said after two and a half years without any signs of recurring cancer I was just about home free. He switched me from Prempro to Premarin, so if I go berserk and hunt down Barcodie and smite him upside the head, someone please print this and give it to my defense attorney, Gloria Allred.
While I was waiting at the pharmacy, which is on an Army post, I broke the cardinal rule about not trashing the President. The old lady sitting next to me started it by complaining about high prices in the commissary, I blamed the resident's economy and we were off and running.
The old lady and her husband, and the lady behind me and her two teen daughters used these adjectives in describing Bush: stupid, clueless, crooked, dishonest, crazy, dumb, Herbert Hooverish, power hungry and arrogant.
None of us were whispering, either.
The drums are pounding. Word is spreading. People don't like this regressive, dishonest pimp for the mega wealthy, and he's not going to get a second chance to screw us.

Thursday, September 04, 2003

AIDS, Africa and The Not So Amiable Dunce

When I first heard about Dubya's initiatives to fund programs to help Africans with AIDS, I applauded him. I jumped the gun.
I was wrong.
In his last State of the Union address, the resident announced a new program and pledged $15 billion over the next five years to fight AIDS in Africa.
But instead of using existing channels, he created a new boondoggle bureaucracy. Now the White House and Congressional Republicans argue that since the bureaucracy is not ready, dying patients must wait.
You heard me.
The Senate is scheduled to vote soon on an appropriations bill that contains $2 billion for the AIDS initiative, only $500 million more than this year's spending. Congress has approved even less.
Basically what Dubya has done is to say one thing and mean another.
There are several established and efficient African-based programs to help people with AIDS. Dubya and his cronies want to avoid channeling money into already established AIDS fighting groups because they cannot micromanage them.
When I make a charitable contribution, I make it and it's up to the donee how to spend the money. When Bush makes a charitable contribution, he wants to create the charity, then tell them how to spend the money.
All that African orphan hugging Bush did in Africa a few months ago was bullshit.
The money he pledged could already have been saving lives.
As usual, Bush is all talk and no walk.
Just one more reason to want this Bozo thrown out on his ass.

Wednesday, September 03, 2003

Remembering Miss Marls

After my new friend Miss Marls passed away, her sister went into her Internet account and notified Marls' friends and contacts of the tragedy.
I replied to her e-mail, she replied to mine and we've ended up becoming friends through
e-mail and Instant Messaging.
Big Sister asked me if I wanted anything to remember Marls by. I didn't want anything of value but I did want some little keepsake, so I asked if she had a key chain.
Turns out she had a very nice Louis Vuitton key case, which was delivered to me last weekend. It smells like really good potpourri.
Now whenever I use my keys, I am reminded of our brief friendship and I think fondly of her. I wish she would have stuck around a while, because stories I've heard about her since she died told me what a nice woman she was.
Even though we only knew each other a short while, I miss her. But I do have her key case and that somehow helps.

Monday, September 01, 2003

Cats and Kittens

Sometimes I miss the kittens my two grown cats used to be.
They were both precious babies, and I look at their big, Virginia ham sized butts now as they lay around like slugs, and I long for those days when I could lift them in one hand, with room to spare.
My girlfriend la has twin kittens, Cookie and Oreo. They even look like my boys James and Bart, except they weigh two or three pounds each, as opposed to 15 pounds per cat.
I stayed at her house Sunday night and I was reminded why I am happy after all that my boys are grown.
Cookie spent the evening meowing and strolling up and down my body. Oreo spent his time biting anything that moved. My girlfriend spent her time heaving them three or four feet from the bed, causing them to land with a deafening thud on the hardwood floor.
Then they would quickly climb back on the bed and start fighting.
Their little claws are like needles and easily penetrate sheets, thin summer blankets and human leg tissue. They think everything is potentially edible, including toes, fingers, noses and nipples.
Kittens meow louder than adult cats, so they can call for help if they get into danger.
Cookie and Oreo have the same meow decibel level as a Metallica concert, and they like to meow when they are happy, sad, angry, lonely, bored, curious or sleeping.
Earlier Sunday night, I was in la's pottery studio and walked through the nearly invisible screen door, giving myself a bruised eye socket. She had injured her left rotator cuff when she overdid it earlier at the gym.
Between my eye, her shoulder and those two tiny feline instruments of evil, we had a restless night. I'm sort of glad to be home now with my lazy grown cats, who sleep like bags of cement the minute the lights go off.
My kitten fever has been cured. For now.