Sire Says

Beyond "It Gets Better"

2011-09-20T21:05:00.000-07:00

Has the "It Gets Better" campaign actually contributed to teenage suicides? Because one thing is certain: It sure isn't preventing them.

"It Gets Better" introduced the notion of suicide—that people were doing it as a means of escape—to children who may not have heard of it before. How many kids even knew that killing yourself was a thing before they saw Kim Kardashian talking about it on YouTube? I'm not saying that "It Gets Better" is directly responsible for the suicides that have occurred since its prevalence in social media, but introducing such heavy concepts via popular, tween-friendly, and, to be frank, incredibly stupid celebrities to any unsupervised kid with a computer wasn't very smart. Even though people were saying "don't kill yourself," anyone with half a brain should have realized that seeds can be planted in all sorts of tragic ways when you're attempting to communicate with young, underdeveloped minds.

Even if "It Gets Better" hasn't been responsible for getting kids to consider suicide (and again, I'm not saying it has--directly), it's at least been utterly useless. Instead of encouraging children to cling to an empty, worthless, meaningless catchphrase (which has now become nothing more than a silly meme), is there something else we can do to prevent them from killing themselves? Because despite my cynicism, I really don't want children to kill themselves. I don't want anyone to kill themselves! Is there anything effective that anyone can do?

To start, we should look at why "It Gets Better" didn't work. Quite simply, it was a lie. "It Gets Better" being inherently false should have deterred people from perpetuating it in the first place, but it didn't. I guess people wanted to believe it could be true. People always want to believe in the good. People always want to think that everything is always going to be OK eventually, but of course it never is.

Even the most objective person can not deny that life is truly horrible. And you know what? It gets progressively worse as you get older. Once you pass 30, the only thing weaker than your sense of self-worth is the decrepit bag of flesh and bones you call your body. To be honest, I would much rather go back to the simpler days of being called a faggot in high school than deal with holding down a job, paying bills, and maintaining shitty relationships. Being bullied as a teen was a walk in the park compared to the misery of trying to survive as a functioning adult. Jesus fucking Christ.

So maybe that's how we can help gay children. Tell them that things actually get worse, and that they should cherish the simple horror of being called dumb names while they can. 20 years from now, they'll be lucky if anyone even realizes they exist, much less goes out of their way to bully them. Let's stop lying to gay children and start treating them with some dignity, please. Let's tell them what life is really like once they finish high school, and that their teen years will end up being the best years of their lives. Live in the moment, kids, no matter how horrible it is, and know that the pain of being called "fag" pales in comparison to being fat, sexually deprived, spiteful, bored in a loveless marriage (if you can even legally get gay married, which you probably can't), and trapped in a dead end job (if you're even employed, which you probably aren't).

These kids today don't know how easy they really have it. Let us not lie to them about how great things are going to be, but rather let's tell them to suck it up and realize how great things are right now. These assholes on the playground are nothing compared to the evil bosses, cheating boyfriends, and backstabbing friends waiting in the wings. Yes, being a kid, especially a gay kid, is awful. But being a gay adult is even awfuler. At least as a kid, you haven't developed the demoralizing self-awareness that will ultimately kill you from the inside out.

In short, killing yourself at 14 is a waste. If you have to do it, at least wait until you've truly lost everything as a fully realized, adult failure! At least then it will have really been worth something (i.e., nothing).

Follow Me

2011-09-13T21:37:00.000-07:00

Follow me, like me, retweet me, comment me, @ reply me, reblog me, favorite me, indulge me, forgive me, love me, please don't lie to me, take me away from here, make me a better person, tell me that everything's gonna be ok, promise me that there is more to life than this, kiss me.

Mario Brothers

2011-09-13T00:56:00.000-07:00

As a way to cope, I've started playing the video games I used to play when I was a pre-teen.

"The Laughing Heart"

2011-09-11T01:11:00.000-07:00

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

-Charles Bukowski

[via]

1984

2011-09-11T00:22:00.001-07:00

"$1500 To Lay There And Get Rimmed?"

2011-09-09T18:49:00.001-07:00

"Yeah, $1500. And then I have to spend the night."

Part of a conversation with an escort friend of mine. He gets paid $1500 to spend the night with old men (I don't mean that as a slight; most of the men are extremely aged) and sometimes have sex with them. Sometimes, like the time we were talking about today, he only has to lay there and have his ass eaten.

After we spoke, the idea of writing about a sex worker lazily flopped around in my head. How unique or relevant a thing could I make that? Writing about someone who trades sex for money in a down economy! No. I bore myself every day.

The other thing I do every day is repeatedly say the words "What the fuck are you doing" to myself. I think if you're someone who, daily, says to himself "What the fuck are you doing," you're probably doing the wrong thing in life. So as the thought of writing a ridiculous trend piece about gay hookers and the mantra "what the fuck are you doing" both came to me at about the same time, I thought about trying to write about something else.

I thought about writing about writing on the internet. Is any of the writing on the internet good? No. Do people buy books? Should I try to write something not for the internet? Do people read books? The Help is a popular movie. Is having your book turned into a movie better than having your blog turned into a book?

Being a blogger or an internet personality who "writes" doesn't make you a writer, of course, if I can be a snob for a moment. Most writing online isn't writing but rather a string of terse sentence fragments loosely connected by LOLs and OMGs! and "What Do U Think!?" And that last one, the one soliciting reaction in the form of "comments," is the real downer. Today, we write less because we have a cogent point to make or an entertaining narrative to share, but rather, we write because we want to really get some commenters fired up!

Page views, favorites, retweets, likes, comments, shares, and reblogs are where it is at, you guys. The goal in blogging, or at least a new mark of successful blogging or being a successful blogger, isn't to be "good." The goal is to have whatever you wrote be so hated or so outrageous or so controversial (when, in fact, it's not controversial at all) that it--or better yet, you!--becomes a comical meme of sorts. Whatever idea or story you published is more valuable to the internet if people can really really hate it or really really make fun of it. Take the truly dreadful piece from Paul Aguirre-Livingston, "Dawn Of A New Gay." Livingston's attempt to proudly define an entire generation of gay men as apathetic hipsters pissed literally everyone on the internet off. It also brought in the most comments the site that published it had ever received on a single article. Was this horrifying piece of writing intentionally horrifying in an effort to attract all the h8ers? Probably not. But being horrifying is all the rage. We have proof.

Again, this notion of hating the internet and the "death" of writing is entirely pretentious and, let's be honest, my own blogging and my own comment wars have contributed to the demise in a small way, probably. But I miss quiet consideration. I miss thinking about something without the use of an emoticon. I miss reading something and not engaging in a fight with a stranger over it before I've even had time to process what it is I just read. And we are all to blame: the writers who do the bad writing and the readers who do the bad reading.

I think about what it would be like if the internet just turned off all its comments. No debate, no praise, no hate, nothing. It would kill the people who live off of the attention they receive online. It would infuriate the people who are infuriated by the things they read online. I guess it wouldn't be the internet anymore.

What are some things that people could write about that wouldn't result in comment wars or "controversy"? What are some topics that aren't stale trend pieces written about everywhere that would make for a unique reading experience? Considering how short and how precious life is, what is the most effective, valuable way to spend one's time while surfing the net? What do you think?

A Serious Question

2010-10-18T23:44:00.000-07:00

How do you criticize the exploitation and ultimately shallow message of a campaign that is intended to prevent people from killing themselves without seeming like you don't care about dead people? Because I do. I do care about dead people and I wish they weren't dead. But "It gets better" is the new "Just say no." Well-intentioned but ineffective. Such pie-in-the-sky, touchy-feely rhetoric sounds good, but what about right now? What can we say to people about how to make their lives better right now, in the moment (when it matters most!), as opposed to making them believe that if they're patient, it'll be OK later on. Eventually. Someday. If there's one thing I (think I) know about people, it's that they're not patient, especially in today's reliance upon instant gratification. Everything must be instantaneous. Everything must be tangible. Everything must be right now. Not five years from now. Not five hours from now. How do you tell someone that there will always be bullies and there will always be bullshit and that's part of life without seeming like a bully yourself? How do you criticize something so well-intentioned without seeming like a bully? Can you say anything? Or should you just keep your well-intentioned cynicism to yourself?

Not All Christians Are Anti-Gay, But Most Anti-Gay People Are Christian

2010-10-17T13:29:00.000-07:00

Ann Althouse defends Christian fundamentalists.

Fine. Althouse is right. But I stand behind the title of this post.

Going through the comments on Althouse's post, I see this:

Nice job, Professor, of describing the Christian perspective on homosexuality as it usually is and always ought to be. Thank you.

By "Christian fundamentalists" it sounds like Bazelon thinks she means all denominational and non-denominational Christians who have not embraced active homosexuality as heriditary or congenital and a preferred quality for clergyhood. Is there any thinking going on among the journalistic left?

Ha. A comment criticizing an individual for lumping "all" people from one group together uses that individual to criticize and lump all people from another group together. Is there any thinking going on?

This one's good:

Thank you so much. I am a Christian, and in a very blue area even admitting you go to church is seen by some as an "I'm a hateful homophobe" sign. Thank you for articulating what many Christians cannot, Ann!

Oh, boo hoo.

Poor Christians! Always being misjudged. Spare me the persecution complex. I don't know of anyone who's killed himself after being bullied for being Christian. Do you?

You know what? I'd like to hear more from the "good" Christians. If they called out the "bad" ones--the ones who've perverted the faith and who preach hate (and I don't mean calling gays "sinners," I mean pure, unadulterated hate speech)-- more often, maybe they wouldn't be lumped in with them and be misjudged?

Obnoxious gay people misrepresent me all the time and I call them out on it every chance I get. Why can't true Christians do the same to their misguided fellow Christians?

You don't get to complain about being stereotyped if you aren't doing anything to inform people that the stereotype is wrong. Sorry.

"I Can't Breathe With You Looking At Me."

2010-10-16T01:40:00.000-07:00

Devastating; Happy

2010-10-15T21:08:00.000-07:00

There is nothing more heartbreaking than wanting to open your mouth when you can't.

Today was a great day though. Some days are better than others, and today was one of them. There is nothing more beautiful than seeing other people happy. I loved today.

Someone thought this would be charming; to make a sitting area in the lobby of a building where only eight people live and where no one really has any visitors. And if they did have visitors, they wouldn't sit and wait in this weird hallway. They'd just come upstairs. Or wait outside.

Putting the chair and table there makes everything sad and lonely. As if someone should be there, but they're not. Without the chair and table, this was just a few yards of space I walked through to get to my apartment. Now, it's a painful reminder of how devastatingly empty my life is.

I went to Safeway looking for Viennetta, but instead found this brazen instance of copycatting. How can Nabisco think they can get away with this? If I were Mother's (or Kellogg's, the distributor), I'd be...devastated.

Maybe you've seen these. If you're lucky, you haven't. Most grocery stores have "buffets" now. How long was that macaroni and cheese sitting out? Being kept warm by, uhh, lights, I guess. The other stuff, some kind of chicken and some kind of olives, didn't offend me due to the lack of coagulation. And the lack of cheese. What kind of health code violations do you see here? If you're stupid enough to actually serve yourself something like this, don't you then deserve whatever kind of food poisoning or upset stomach you end up with?

All this, and I still couldn't find any Viennetta.

The worst kind of food of all foods, however, are raisins. Worthless, arrogant raisins. "Fitness Award"? You weren't good enough to be grapes, so don't flatter yourself.

Saw this lone stalk of broccoli discarded atop a pile of beef, and it reminded me of how throughout my childhood and even today during my adulthood I have always struggled to make friends and to fit in with people.

It occurred to me (as I'm sure it has to others) while using the self checkout machine that I could very easily pretend to scan one of my items and then toss it in my bag without paying for it. Even if I were caught, I could say, "What? I was sure I scanned it??! I'm so embarrassed!" And half of that statement would actually be true.

But no, I paid for everything. I couldn't find any Viennetta, though. Breyer's stopped making it in the 90s, and if you want it now, you'll have to go to a specialty bakery or just go to a Baskin Robbins and get an ice cream cake, really.

Safeway sells books. Dollar books. The Way Things Ought To Be. Who is he to say how things ought to be? I'm not sure enough of anything to say how things ought to be for me, much less anyone else.

Don't try to dictate other people's happiness. Let them find it on their own. There is nothing more beautiful than seeing other people happy.

I Could Just Eat Him

2010-10-15T16:23:00.001-07:00

My friend Jack bought the piece above (not directly above, but above above) today from artist Jason Mecier. Yes, those are Red Vines (and Black Vines--is that what they're called?). Brilliant.

Where I've Been And Where I Am

2010-10-14T21:13:00.000-07:00

I see my last post was in September, of 2009. It was about Sarah Palin. So much of what I wrote here was about politics, and over a year later, I could really care less about politics. Chock it up to cynicism or to being immersed in a completely different line of work or chock it up to nothing at all, I guess.

After covering (and caring!) so much about the 2008 election and getting Obama into the White House, and then seeing the results of the past two years--both his failures and the failures of both parties--I learned that no matter how much you care or how much you want things to change, nothing will. So, I've stopped caring. I don't have the time for that. Who does? Sure, I still take sides and I still love finding people absurd, but I don't really care.

I don't know what I care about now, if I'm being honest. I moved. I guess I care about that. For the first time in my adult life, I quit a job after securing another one to take its place. This new job brought me to San Francisco. I live somewhere nice. I'm making friends. I've dated.

For the first time in seven years, I fell in love this past year, I think. But I'm trying to forget about it. Try to forget about the people you love. That's the one piece of advice that this entry will provide. Try to forget. I dare you. Maybe I still am in love? I don't know. I don't care. Just kidding, I do care about him.

I'm healthy. No spleen problems. Of course, it's hard to have spleen problems when you don't have a spleen.

I've traveled in the past year. Went to Chicago for the first time and Miami for the first time and would never want to live in either city.

I like California.

I'm sorry that I've started so many paragraphs with "I."

I don't know what shape this blog will take now, since I don't care about anything. Isn't that the point of having a blog, to write about what you care about?

Have I forgotten how to write, or have I forgotten how to care?

Have I forgotten how to care because I haven't been writing or have I forgotten how to write because I haven't been caring?

Tumbling, Tweeting, Facebooking, And Dying

2010-10-14T21:12:00.001-07:00

I'm dying without my blog. I missed you. Nothing else compared.

I'm back.

I'd Rather Dine With Trig

2009-09-12T10:20:00.000-07:00

Sarah Palin is auctioning off a chance for you and four friends to have dinner with her and three of her friends (Greta Van Susteren, a dead wolf, and probably Todd) at an Olive Garden or whatever, for charity. Imagine what she'd be like, asking for "more breadsticks" and talking about Death Panels. Good stuff. If you have an extra $37,701 on hand, go for it.

But wait! There are "rules" involved which will probably preclude you from going anywhere near this unemployed lady.

This pretty much cancels out 99% of you, unless you've got a fake ID and are a good actor:

A background check for all attendees is mandatory. Failure to pass the background check will result in the winner forfeiting the experience and a refund given. [...] The dinner will be paid for by the seller.

Respect for Ms. Palin and her guest(s) is expected at all times. Inappropriate behavior will result in the conclusion of the experience with no refund.

Ha ha. Don't call her a "bitch" during appetizers. Play it cool. Wait till you've got the check, then have your fun.

Dinner shall last no more than four hours, but could be less, in the sole discretion of Sarah Palin. Governor Palin reserves the right to refuse dinner with a winning bidder if, in her sole discretion, the winning bidder is not a suitable bidder based on her subjective standards of suitability, professionalism, background and other factors.

Subjective standards? Other factors? Suitable bidder? Sounds like she's not going to show up for this four hour (jesus christ) meal, just like she never shows up for anything else, always.

Andrew Sullivan Got High, Got Caught, And Got Off

2009-09-11T10:26:00.000-07:00

On July 13th, marijuana fan Andrew Sullivan was busted on Cape Cod, for having marijuana. He was ordered to appear in court on September 2nd to pay a $125 fine, like anyone else would be. But, here's where things get weird: At the hearing, the U.S. Attorney's office asked the court to drop the charge, claiming that it would have an "adverse effect” on Sullivan's immigration status (he's a British citizen).

Sullivan has been seeking U.S. citizenship for some time now, so a misdemeanor could hinder his progress. But, why in the world is the U.S. Attorney's office concerned about this? Was it a case of a high profile media figure getting special treatment? Did Andrew Sullivan give the federal prosecutor a hand job? Who can say!?

Well, the judge who ultimately did allow the dismissal is very pissed off about all of this because, honestly, what if every crazy blogger tried to smoke pot, on Cape Cod?

Actually, U.S. Magistrate Judge Robert B. Collings was more worried about inequality under the law. He wrote:

"...a dismissal would result in persons in similar situations being treated unequally before the law. … persons charged with the same offense on the Cape Cod National Seashore were routinely given violation notices, and if they did not agree to [pay the fine] were prosecuted by the United States Attorney … there was no apparent reason for treating Mr. Sullivan differently from other persons charged with the same offense.”

When Judge Collings asked why the U.S. Attorney's office wanted to drop the charge, Assistant U.S. Attorney James F. Lang said that "Collings had no power to inquire why the U.S. Attorney had decided to have the charge dismissed." Shady, right?

Why the U.S. Attorney's office has any interest in protecting Sullivan and his citizenship goals (remember, shielding him from "adverse effects" was the excuse they gave—siding with Sullivan and his lawyer—when asking to have the charge dismissed) is a mystery. Again, what business is it of theirs? Why were they in collusion with Sullivan? Again, hand job?

Whatever you think about marijuana laws, the irony here is amazing. For years, Sullivan has been fighting ardently and admirably for equality, but when he needs to get himself out of a jam, he seeks and accepts special, unequal treatment that others don't have access to. While some might see this behavior as arrogant, hypocritical and selfish, at least it explains why Andrew Sullivan wants to be a U.S. citizen so bad: He'll blend right in.

GOP Congressman Turns Obama Speech Into Wingnut Townhall

2009-09-10T20:10:00.000-07:00

Decorum! It is such a hard thing to have today, especially under the leadership of a Communist Hawaiian president. For example, listen to Joe Wilson, a Republican congressman from South Carolina, yell "You lie!" in the clip below when Obama says that his health care reform efforts would not insure illegal immigrants, which is true.

Did Joe Wilson bring his gun, like so many racists do when attending meetings about health care? I can't tell. But, one thing is certain: Nancy Pelosi was shocked! You can (almost) see it in her face.

It Would Be Weird To Not Have An August Post

2009-08-31T21:37:00.000-07:00

Obviously, things have changed.

Logging into blogger tonight gave me a strange, almost nostalgic, somewhat forlorn feeling. My heart sank a bit. Wow. I haven't done this in so long.

For work, I've been writing so much about other things, other people, other events, none of which have ever really been touched on here. I mentioned to a friend the other night (paraphrasing): "I haven't really 'written' anything like I used to in a long time, but I'm still writing, and I'm still using my voice. I love what I'm writing...it's just different."

I blog full time, upwards of ten posts per day, and this doesn't include the writing for the magazines. There simply isn't time for Sire Says right now. For example, it's 9:41 p.m. and I still have to program two more early morning posts for the work blog so all the east coast readers will have something to see at 8 a.m. and 9 a.m. when I am, hopefully, sleeping.

I will be back, in one way or another, at some point. And you can follow all that "different" writing on Unzipped.

P.S. The cyst on my spleen came back, and last week, I had the surgery that I should have had the first time, a complete splenectomy. I'm healing, but there's still some pain.

Until next time...

R.I.P. Walter Cronkite

2009-07-18T09:44:00.000-07:00

There was obviously no one like him before, and there was no one like him after.

Good network journalism died a long time ago, but it doesn't make Cronkite's death any less symbolic. Of course, Americans don't care. They don't want news. They want Bill O'Reilly and Keith Olbermann. And that's the way it is.

Read this, it's a nice look back.

My Night At Metro Q

2009-07-12T18:47:00.000-07:00

You remember the Metro Q, don't you?

Well, I finally went. And as I said on my Facebook status last night, the Metro Q is "the place where gays go to die."

Look, it would be too easy, not to mention mean spirited, to bash the place, so I'll just say that it needs some serious work. There's weird office lighting all over the place, tacky purple walls, bad music, and don't even get me started on the clientele. Who are these people and where do they come from?

That's the "Notorious Miss Julie." What she is notorious for, I do not want to know. But she was kind enough to take a hot pic with me, so, she can't be too bad.

Hey, if you want a weird place to have a cheap cocktail and people ~~judge~~ watch, go to the Metro Q. Tell 'em Sire Says sent ya!

And, it's time for a photo dump. Pics from last night, courtesy of my wonderful new phone:

BONUS! A video dump. Here's Julie, tricking Chanelle and me into thinking we were posing for a picture.

The Best Sarah Palin Article I've Ever Read...

2009-07-10T22:10:00.000-07:00

...and it's from conservative darling and Ronald Reagan speechwriter/girlfriend Peggy Noonan. Seriously, she's hits. Every. Point.

Enjoy:

Sarah Palin's resignation gives Republicans a new opportunity to see her plain—to review the bidding, see her strengths, acknowledge her limits, and let go of her drama. It is an opportunity they should take. They mean to rebuild a great party. They need to do it on solid ground.

True, but Peggy is speaking to and about a Republican party that may not exist anymore. It's a party that's been taken over by people like Rush Limbaugh. Good luck prying it from his fat fingers.

Her history does not need to be rehearsed at any length. Ten months ago she was embraced with friendliness by her party. The left and the media immediately overplayed their hand, with attacks on her children. The party rallied round, as a party should. She went on the trail a sensation but demonstrated in the ensuing months that she was not ready to go national and in fact never would be. She was hungry, loved politics, had charm and energy, loved walking onto the stage, waving and doing the stump speech. All good. But she was not thoughtful. She was a gifted retail politician who displayed the disadvantages of being born into a point of view (in her case a form of conservatism; elsewhere and in other circumstances, it could have been a form of liberalism) and swallowing it whole: She never learned how the other sides think, or why.

In television interviews she was out of her depth in a shallow pool. She was limited in her ability to explain and defend her positions, and sometimes in knowing them. She couldn't say what she read because she didn't read anything. She was utterly unconcerned by all this and seemed in fact rather proud of it: It was evidence of her authenticity. She experienced criticism as both partisan and cruel because she could see no truth in any of it. She wasn't thoughtful enough to know she wasn't thoughtful enough.

That's the line right there. "She wasn't thoughtful enough to know she wasn't thoughtful enough."

In other words, she's completely oblivious: to herself, to the media, to the public, to the people around her and, dare I say it, even to her own family. What kind of mother subjects her children to the shit Palin subjects her kids to? (I'm thinking of that disgusting hockey game incident.) But Peggy goes on, and she's more fair than I am.

Her presentation up to the end has been scattered, illogical, manipulative and self-referential to the point of self-reverence. "I'm not wired that way," "I'm not a quitter," "I'm standing up for our values." I'm, I'm, I'm.

In another age it might not have been terrible, but here and now it was actually rather horrifying.

McCain-Palin lost. Mrs. Palin has now stepped down, but she continues to poll high among some members of the Republican base, some of whom have taken to telling themselves Palin myths.

To wit, "I love her because she's so working-class." This is a favorite of some party intellectuals. She is not working class, never was, and even she, avid claimer of advantage that she is, never claimed to be and just lets others say it. Her father was a teacher and school track coach, her mother the school secretary. They were middle-class figures of respect, stability and local status. I think intellectuals call her working-class because they see the makeup, the hair, the heels and the sleds and think they're working class "tropes." Because, you know, that's what they teach in "Ways of the Working Class" at Yale and Dartmouth.

What she is, is a seemingly very nice middle-class girl with ambition, appetite and no sense of personal limits.

"She's not Ivy League, that's why her rise has been thwarted! She represented the democratic ideal that you don't have to go to Harvard or Brown to prosper, and her fall represents a failure of egalitarianism." This comes from intellectuals too. They need to be told something. Ronald Reagan went to Eureka College. Richard Nixon went to Whittier College, Joe Biden to the University of Delaware. Sarah Palin graduated in the end from the University of Idaho, a school that happily notes on its Web site that it's included in U.S. News & World Report's top national schools survey. They need to be told, too, that the first Republican president was named "Abe," and he went to Princeton and got a Fulbright. Oh wait, he was an impoverished backwoods autodidact!

America doesn't need Sarah Palin to prove it was, and is, a nation of unprecedented fluidity. Her rise and seeming fall do nothing to prove or refute this.

"The elites hate her." The elites made her. It was the elites of the party, the McCain campaign and the conservative media that picked her and pushed her. The base barely knew who she was. It was the elites, from party operatives to public intellectuals, who advanced her and attacked those who said she lacked heft. She is a complete elite confection. She might as well have been a bonbon.

ZING!

"She makes the Republican Party look inclusive." She makes the party look stupid, a party of the easily manipulated.

"She shows our ingenuous interest in all classes." She shows your cynicism.

"Now she can prepare herself for higher office by studying up, reading in, boning up on the issues." Mrs. Palin's supporters have been ordering her to spend the next two years reflecting and pondering. But she is a ponder-free zone. She can memorize the names of the presidents of Pakistan, but she is not going to be able to know how to think about Pakistan. Why do her supporters not see this? Maybe they think "not thoughtful" is a working-class trope!

"The media did her in." Her lack of any appropriate modesty did her in. Actually, it's arguable that membership in the self-esteem generation harmed her. For 30 years the self-esteem movement told the young they're perfect in every way. It's yielding something new in history: an entire generation with no proper sense of inadequacy.

And...scene. I think we have here one of the best smackdowns I've ever read about a modern political figure. Not because it echoes my sentiments about this fraud, Palin, but because it skillfully calls out every meaningless argument the right has been making and then it shuts them all down. And this is coming from someone on the right.

Peggy, you done good.

The Top 10 Possible Reasons Why Sarah Palin Quit Her Job

2009-07-03T22:47:00.000-07:00

10. Going to study abroad, in the country of Africa

9. More time to shoot wolves from helicopters

8. She's pregnant with John Edwards' baby

7. She's pregnant with Mark Sanford's baby

6. Got a job doing the weather on Fox News

5. Opening a chain of tanning salons in Anchorage

4. Just found out she's the mother of Michael Jackson's children

3. Entering witness protection program in order to hide from Andrew Sullivan

2. New reality show on VH1, "Snow Machine Of Love"

1. Two words: Batshit Insane

"Fuck Gay People"

2009-06-30T17:46:00.000-07:00

Assimilate Or Deviate?

2009-06-28T18:35:00.000-07:00

A Facebook friend pointed to this funny, clever Onion piece:

Gay-Pride Parade Sets Mainstream Acceptance Of Gays Back 50 Years

WEST HOLLYWOOD, CA–The mainstream acceptance of gays and lesbians, a hard-won civil-rights victory gained through decades of struggle against prejudice and discrimination, was set back at least 50 years Saturday in the wake of the annual Los Angeles Gay Pride Parade.

"I'd always thought gays were regular people, just like you and me, and that the stereotype of homosexuals as hedonistic, sex-crazed deviants was just a destructive myth," said mother of four Hannah Jarrett, 41, mortified at the sight of 17 tanned and oiled boys cavorting in jock straps to a throbbing techno beat on a float shaped like an enormous phallus. "Boy, oh, boy, was I wrong."

LOL. While there's a lot of hilarious truth to the "article," it unintentionally brings up a tricky dichotomy within the gay community. Now, I'm reacting to The Onion, so I can't get too serious here, but I'll just say this:

There are many, many gay men who embrace and prefer to be considered outcasts and eccentric characters living far away from the mainstream. Not only do I respect them, but I relate and support their need to keep things "old school," for horrible lack of a better term. Part of being gay, however trivial and for better or worse, is rebelling against cultural norms and joyously accepting yourself as a minority. In essence, fuck you heteros for not giving us a seat at the table for all these years, we'll do our own thing and if it makes you uncomfortable, deal with it. (I don't speak for the gay community, and I don't begin to know the exact disposition of every gay activist, but this is my shortened take.)

At the same time, there are many, many others in the gay community who strive for assimilation. (Think gay marriage rights, ending DADT, groups like GLAAD and PFLAG and HRC, etc.) By normalizing and "mainstreaming" gay citizens (not to say that we aren't "normal" to begin with), we are creating a more tolerable, loving, safer environment for everyone, especially gay children (think Lawrence King, Matthew Shepard, etc.). I respect and relate and support this movement, too.

As someone who is not one of the wild and crazy gays depicted in the Onion piece, and as someone who is not in any way affected by the various civil rights or discrimination issues, and as someone who sees groups like GLAAD and HRC as silly vanity projects run by self-serving queens, I find myself strangely apathetic to both sides here. Assimilate, or deviate? I know which option will result in a greater good for a greater amount of people eventually, but there is something noble and true about another segment of people that should be preserved.

In the end, it seems full assimilation is the trending and likely future for gays. Is this good? Well, sure. Is this bad? I don't know. Did the men and women at Stonewall (40 years ago today) want to get gay married and be regular characters on sitcoms? Probably not, but that's only because the ideas were so completely impossible, they never would have occurred to them.

In a perfect world, we'd have it both ways: Keep our authentic and unapologetic parades with offensive shit, then get legally married and join the military to kill people in illegal wars.

Famewhores

2009-06-28T13:21:00.000-07:00

Can we simply kill them both?

If you're a serious journalist, do you send out e-mails expressing your excitement about getting to ask the President a question? And, if you're a serious journalist, do you get your panties in a wad because some douche got called on ahead of you?

(For the record, there's nothing wrong with pre-arranging a question on either side, so long as it is a valid question that is asked and answered honestly.)

What A Fuckin' Week!

2009-06-26T22:28:00.000-07:00

I trust you know I'm spending the majority of my time blogging elsewhere.

But I'm still here, damn it.

Now, what the hell happened this week?!

Some dumb Governor maybe possibly went hiking, but then it turns out, no, he was in Argentina. Then, we read his sexy e-mails to his mistress.

My celebrity crush went into overdrive.

Burger King would like to sell you a hamburger by suggesting you fellate it.

I make a cameo in a video.

Perez Hilton called somebody a faggot, and then everyone told him to fuck off.

Michael Jackson DIED.

Also, Farrah Fawcett, Ed McMahon, "Neda," health care, global warming, North Korea, etc. Jesusfuckingchrist.

David Letterman Will Rape You With His Mouth!

2009-06-17T21:49:00.000-07:00

Here is a fun clip for you. Howard Stern's Richard and Sal went out to that phony David Letterman protest in New York the other day to make out in front of all those phony protesters who claim to be offended by a joke that everyone with half a working brain knows was about Sarah Palin's oldest daughter (who has already been knocked up), not the younger one (who has obviously never been knocked up). After laughing at these mouth breathers (who seem curiously more like paid actors than actual protesters, but that's just me), check out Richard and Sal at the very end of the clip.

(X-posted.)

Liz

2009-06-17T15:33:00.000-07:00

LIZ LIZ LIZ LIZ LIZ LIZ LIZ LIZ

We Learned So Much From The First Gulf War

2009-06-09T23:56:00.001-07:00

If only Gary Busey and Downtown Julie Brown were around today to show us that they still cared.

(Seriously, I've watched this like 10 times and I am fucking DYING. I won't ruin any of the other celeb surprises...just be prepared to hit the pause button.)

Is This An Onion Article?

2009-06-06T20:06:00.000-07:00

Uhhh...

Militant Hamas gets into matchmaking business

GAZA CITY, Gaza Strip – At 29, Tahani is considered a spinster by the standards of deeply conservative Gaza. So in her search for a husband, she turned for help to the best in the marriage business: the Islamic militant group Hamas.

"I gaze at all the men on the street and think, 'Oh God, isn't there just one for me?'" said the young woman with dark skin and honey-colored eyes, set off by a maroon headscarf.

Her application is among 287 from single women in the files of the Tayseer Association for Marriage and Development in Gaza. Photographs stapled to the files show Muslim women in headscarves, some wearing makeup, some smiling, others looking startled.

?!?

This is a real article.

Tahani, who spoke on condition that only her first name be used because she is using the service without her family knowing, said she turned to Tayseer a year ago. Her mother died when Tahani was young, and none of her relatives were helping her find a groom.

The young woman said she became more determined to find a husband after Israel's three-week war on Hamas, which ended in January. Israel's assault killed hundreds of civilians, and Gaza's residents hunkered down in homes and shelters during the shelling, not knowing where bombs would fall next.

"My brothers held their wives when they were scared. I felt lonely," said Tahani, a university graduate in social work.

Most women are shy when they first come in the door, said Tayseer matchmaker Nisrin Khalil, 21.

"I tell the girls, be like Khadija!" said Khalil, referring to the Prophet Muhammad's first wife.

Of course, Khadija.

You know what, good for these women. But please explain to me how being married to ANYONE ASAP is better than being lonely and single? Tortured, miserable companionship is apparently better than being lonely and single in Gaza because it makes you more socially acceptable. Wow, the Muslim world is more similar to the United States than I had realized.

The applicants, who pay a fee of $10-$70, are divided into categories according to their eligibility. Women under 25 are easiest to marry off; more challenging are women over 30 and divorcees.

[...]

In the women's application, they describe their ideal man. Most ask for a devout Muslim with a job and his own apartment, a top find in crowded Gaza.

Women also must describe their appearance and answer a killer question: "Do you consider yourself pretty according to Gaza standards?"

The ideal of beauty in Gaza means tall and fair-skinned with blue or green eyes and light-colored hair — and that's what men usually ask for. But most Gaza women have dark hair and bronze skin.

The ideal of beauty in Gaza is...something that basically doesn't exist.

Muslims. They're just like us.

Which Is Your Favorite Racist & Sexist & Weightist Sonia Sotomayor Cartoon?

2009-06-06T10:07:00.001-07:00

The National Review thought it would be funny to make "Maria" Sotomayor (a secret Mexican) an Asian—a female Buddah apparently—on its cover. Confused? Don't be. Because of her "wise" remarks at Berkeley, this is acceptable! Also, look how fat she is. Totally acceptable.

Moving right along...

Well, this is charming. Never mind the fact that Sotomayor is Puerto Rican while pinatas and sombreros are Mexican things...how about that fun noose?! Completely acceptable.

America's cartoonists! Such great minds.

New Hampshire Gives National Organization For Marriage The Sads

2009-06-04T15:06:00.000-07:00

Poor NOM. All of their hard work to make homosexuals permanently single is being ruined, thanks to activist state legislatures like the one in New Hampshire, which just yesterday said, "Go for it gays, get married."

The NOM website has been updated with this mournful press release, which is just like all their other press releases following Maine, Vermont, Connecticut, etc. Read it and weep:

"Governor Lynch and a narrow majority of the Legislature today have ripped a significant hole in the fabric of New Hampshire society by passing same-sex marriage legislation," said Brian Brown, executive director of NOM.

Why are New Hampshire's lawmakers destroying society's asshole?

The vote of the legislature sends New Hampshire into dangerous waters. It will not be long before young children are taught in New Hampshire schools that they can marry someone of the same sex if they wish – that gay marriage is just as good as marriage."

Don't forget about older children, as they will be taught the same thing. And by "taught" I mean most likely never mentioned in any classroom at all, ever.

New Hampshire does not allow voters to decide controversial issues via a referendum or initiative, so the action of the legislature and governor cannot be overturned directly by voters.

Ha, I did not know this! God damned New Hampshire and its weirdo hippie state constitution. Too bad it was written over 200 years ago, before there were gay people. If only they'd known!

(X-posted.)

How To Seduce Two Guys In A Grocery Store

2009-06-02T22:13:00.000-07:00

Whoa. I'm gonna get a little risque here and post this B-roll from some old bi-sexual porn flick starring Stacey Donovan and two dudes who you don't need to pay any mind to. Trust me, this is all about Stacey.

Now, next time you're in your local grocery store, just do what she's doing and you'll get all the guys.

(Warning, the last three seconds might be NSFW, but it's worth it!)

YO WALNUTS! OPEN YR FUK'N DOOR!

2009-06-02T16:27:00.000-07:00

Say it ain't so, Joe!

This is just hilarious, and yet, totally believable:

But a new book by writer Richard Wolffe describes a scene in which Biden tried to confront McCain about a story involving Biden’s daughter.

“Biden was offended about a story pushed by conservative operatives about his daughter getting into trouble with the police,” Wolffe writes in the book, “Renegade.”

Wolffe, who covered the presidential campaign for Newsweek and now works as a political analyst for MSNBC, doesn’t explain what the “trouble” was. But Ashley Biden was charged in 2002 with obstructing an officer during an incident outside a Chicago nightclub. The charge was dropped after she apologized.

Biden brushed aside his staff’s suggestion that he release a statement, according to Wolffe.

Instead, Biden said, “Hell, no. I’m going to call John myself,” Wolffe wrote in the book, which will be released today.

When McCain refused to take his call, Biden was even more annoyed. He tried again when the candidates were in New York on the anniversary of 9/11, preparing for a forum on public service.

“McCain’s aides said he could not be disturbed, but that did not inhibit Joe Biden,” Wolffe wrote. “He walked up to McCain’s door and thumped on it. ‘John McCain,’ he shouted. ‘It’s Joe Biden. The next time I phone you, take the damn call.’ ”

Ohhhhh Walnuts!

Is Bill O'Reilly To Blame For George Tiller's Murder?

2009-06-01T14:31:00.001-07:00

Bill O'Reilly has had all kinds of vicious, provocative things to say about the abortion doctor over the years:

"If we as a society allow an undefined mental health exception in late-term abortions, then babies can be killed for almost any reason... This is the kind of stuff that happened in Mao's China and Hitler's Germany and Stalin's Soviet Union... If we allow this, America will no longer be a noble nation... If we allow Dr. George Tiller and his acolytes to continue, we can no longer pass judgment on any behavior by anybody."

Then there's this:

"Yes, I think we all know what this is. And if the state of Kansas doesn't stop this man, then anybody who prevents that from happening has blood on their hands as the governor does right now, Governor Sebelius."

...No question Dr. Tiller has blood on his hands. But now so does Governor Sebelius. She is not fit to serve. Nor is any Kansas politician who supports Tiller's business of destruction. I wouldn't want to be these people if there is a Judgment Day."

And of course, this:

Now, I've got two problems with blaming O'Reilly. One, tying this clown to the murder means that he has a really big effect on people, and that's a horrific thing to have to come to terms with. I'd rather not.

And two, tying this goon to the murder will only make a martyr out of him and get him more of the press he adores. Ugh, I'm talking about him right now. Barf.

Let's just say that Mr. Bill had nothing to do with this, and move on.

Of course, if there were some way for him to be charged as an accessory to murder and sent to prison by continuing to talk about this...let's keep talking about this! It's his fault!

Blog Love

2009-05-31T23:49:00.001-07:00

Hey, be sure to check out some of the folks listed over on the right. I've added a few recently, and if you come here and are disappointed by the lack of updates during the work week, you can always amuse yourself by checking out my peeps in the "Required Daily Reading" sidebar.

Trooper, Freeman, M@ Sign, Witness LA, JAC, etc., check 'em out. All sorts of points of views, some of which I agree with 95% of the time, some about 5-10% of the time. All fun and smart though, to be sure.

And, as always, I'm blogging here throughout the week. Sometimes it gets close to being almost-NSFW (depending on where you work), and I share the site with a few other dedicated bloggers, so have fun seeing what's what and who's who. My name is listed at the bottom of the posts I write, but you can always tell when it's me even if you don't see the "Posted By..." line first, can't you?

Photo Dump

2009-05-31T12:25:00.000-07:00

The other night, one of the magazines I work for threw a publisher's party for the June issue. It was a blast, to say the least, and it was great to see Brent (above), whom I interviewed last February. He's even cuter in "real life," if you can believe it. You can read my full report on the event, here.

Jewels was there, too!

A couple of weeks ago was Long Beach Pride. I don't remember much of that weekend...and perhaps you can see why.

Booze and cigs before noon? Well, sure.

And yes, I realize that I'm wearing similar shirts in both sets of these pics. No, they are not the same shirt, just similar! I would never wear the same shirt to events so close to each other. Please. That being said, maybe it's time to put something other than plaid into the rotation?

Gavin Newsom was the parade's Grand Marshal, and somehow, Markie! managed to sidle up and get a pic with him. Say what you will about the mayor, but he's one smart politician. Attending a 2nd tier pride festival (Long Beach is no SF or LA) was one thing, but mingling with random drunkies on the street? He must really want to be governor.

That's all I got.

Or, rather: These are all the pics I'm willing to share from that weekend. Trust me, some of them could get people fired, or possibly arrested in some states.

A Modest Proposal

2009-05-31T11:16:00.001-07:00

Just saw the news about this so-called "late term" abortion doctor being shot to death in a church in Kansas, undoubtedly by a pro-life loon, and it gave me an idea:

If all you pro-lifers agree to ban guns, I'll agree to ban abortions.

Those of you who have read this blog for some time know that I'm pretty much anti-abortion (not for moral or religious reasons, just because I think you should take responsibility for your actions), but I still believe we can't legislate what a woman is going to do to her own body. After all, if abortions were made illegal, there would be a resurgence of wire hanger production in this country. So, might as well keep it legal.

But if all the gun nuts, who are most likely also pro-life (not to mention in favor of the death penalty, which is so confusing!), agreed to give up their guns, I would hope that the liberals would be able to give up killing their babies. It's a fair trade!

Now, the only exception I might make would be for true, verified hunters with no criminal records. If killing defenseless animals is your thing, you should be allowed to keep your hunting rifles. In exchange, the hunters have to allow women who are raped to abort their rape babies. After all, it would be a total bummer to raise a rape baby. Then again, you never know. Your rape baby could grow up to be a really cool person!

In short: Hunters and rape victims can keep on killing, but everyone else has to knock it off.

Deal?

Bryan Derballa Went To Venezuela

2009-05-30T20:59:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite photographers, Bryan Derballa, went to Venezuela, and as you might expect, the pictures are breathtaking. Check out the Venezuela post, and then you simply must start at page one of his site. There is so much there.

Stop Doing That: Journalism Crutches

2009-05-30T19:23:00.000-07:00

New category time here on Sire Says, because really, when you barely update your blog as it is, what better time to introduce a new category!?

The new category is called "Stop Doing That," and it's pretty fucking self-explanatory. If I see something I don't like, I'm gonna have to ask you to Stop Doing That. The only rule is that it has to be something that's been going on for a long time, something that basically everyone else accepts as the norm, but I'm no longer going to stand for it.

There are many things that journalists/writers do that annoy me and all of you, but the one thing I want to put a Stop to today is journalists who insert [Laughs] in their copy.

Example:

But when I asked Jon and Kate about who would retain sole custody of their eight children, the mood turned somber.

"I know that every child deserves a mother and a father raising them, but I also know that Kate would be a better, stable parent, and she'd be able to devote more time to them," said Jon. "And besides, I fucking hate those brats." [Laughs]

Kate concurred, "It's true."

See, if someone's laughing, show us that they're laughing in an actual sentence ("Jon nervously began to laugh at the end of his admission"), or put in a "ha ha" as actual dialog. Don't type it in like you're writing a screenplay or some sort of stage direction. There's nothing more distracting or stale than [Laughs], so Stop Doing That.

How would you like it if in the middle of someone's quote, you saw [Blinks] or [Crosses legs]? What the fuck! Stop Doing That.

Aside from the obvious aesthetic reason, [Laughs] is a crutch that needs to die mainly because it means you're a lazy writer. What is so wrong with your writing that you can't prove to the reader that your subject is laughing without literally spelling it out? Was it not indicative in the quote you decided to use? If the quote you chose doesn't lead the reader to naturally assume that the subject ended up laughing, why are you using it?

Whenever I see [Laughs] I actually think that the subject probably didn't laugh at all, but the writer is just trying to animate the person's quote. Pick better, funnier quotes then! Or better yet, pick funnier, more interesting people to interview! Or, even better yet: Learn how to fucking write. Show don't tell.

[Laughs] Stop Doing That.

Then And Now: Regina Spektor

2009-05-30T19:11:00.000-07:00

Ok, ok...she hasn't been around long enough to necessarily warrant a Then And Now post, but I make the rules around this joint, so she gets one!

Then: Regina Spektor's "Samson," from the album Songs.
Regina Spektor - Samson

Now: Regina Spektor's "Dance Anthem Of The '80s," from the album Far.
Dance Anthem of the 80s

In case you hadn't noticed, I have a mild obsession with Regina, and I CAN'T WAIT for Far, which will be out in a few weeks.

Excuse Me, But Can You Please Stop Fucking Around Ordering Hamburgers And Making Scenes And Whatnot And Go Do Your Goddamned Fucking Job? Thanks.

2009-05-29T16:06:00.001-07:00

How Do You Pronounce Justice "Maria's" Last Name?!?

2009-05-27T16:24:00.000-07:00

Justice "Maria" Sotomayor sure has a quirky last name, and the The Corner is straight up not going to pronounce it the right way, because THIS IS AMERICA:

The National Review The Corner blog’s Mark Krikorian hears how the people on teevee are pronouncing Sotomayor — “Zo-toe-my-OR” — and he goddamn does not care for that at all, so he goddamn will not pronounce it that way, goddamnit, fuck you all, learn to speak English.

Read the rest.

Proposition 8 Upheld

2009-05-26T21:05:00.000-07:00

And I'm sort of relieved in a strange way.

The last thing we need is a bunch of wingnuts screaming about activist judges and the will of the people being overthrown. Yes, it would have been nice for the court to overturn Prop. 8, but I'm choosing to look at the bright side now. Now, we have the chance to put this on the ballot next year and win with a majority of the vote. It is well within our reach, and the victory will be that much sweeter knowing that we earned it by the will of the people, and not a bunch of black robes.

Congratulations, "Maria" Sotomayor!

2009-05-26T20:54:00.000-07:00

Who knew!? Barack Obama has nominated a dumb Mexican to be a judge, and she's from the movies! Except, she's not. But don't tell that to Mike Huckabee.

(I trust you'll follow the links for context, unless you are a dumb Mexican or Mike Huckabee.)

"You're Not Gonna Make Me Cry...I'm A Tough Girl From The Bronx"

2009-05-24T10:58:00.000-07:00

By way of Moscow...

This is from at least a year ago, but it gives you a great look into who Regina Spektor is. Her new album, "Far," is out next month.

C U Next Tuesday

2009-05-22T21:21:00.001-07:00

After you're done sunning and boozing it up over the long Memorial Day weekend, the Supreme Court of California would like to make your hangover even worse by ruling on the constitutionality of Prop. 8.

Next Tuesday at 10 a.m., the opinion will be posted to their website, at which point it will be instantaneously Twittered, Facebook'd, and texted to you, 10 zillion times. Then you will Twitter, Facebook, and text this news out 10 zillion more times, at which point unicorns will stampede, rainbows will melt, and Adam Lambert will lose American Idol, again.

Obviously, I am expecting the worst. It is much easier to have low expectations (not to mention low standards) in life, so just follow my lead. Then, if the decision is actually good news, our joy will be doubled! But if the news is bad (it most likely will be!) and Prop 8. is upheld, just stick to the original plan: Smashing Korean liquor store windows and stealing teevees in Watts.

(X-posted)

Tune Out The Hate

2009-05-18T00:10:00.000-07:00

Can you?

GAY = SIN from Matthew Brown on Vimeo.

Obama=Bush

2009-05-13T13:55:00.000-07:00

Here's the headline: "Obama reverses on releasing detainee photos"

Covering up your predecessor's crimes is an American presidential tradition, I get it.

But here's another American tradition you might be interested in, Obama: Voter apathy.

You're well on your way to earning my apathy, and if your re-election were held tomorrow, I would relish the idea of staying home...and watching you lose.

You make me sick.

AND: Is this "Obama's Sister Souljah Moment?" This is from a nationally syndicated columnist. Yeah, because torture and war crimes are the same thing as Bill Clinton's contrived campaign tactic. Jesusfuckingchrist.

Is Adam Lambert Going Home Tonight?

2009-05-13T07:46:00.000-07:00

My predictions are in...

Spoiler Alert...

2009-05-11T14:14:00.000-07:00

Simon Cowell picked Adam's song tomorrow night...

and it's Wicked Game.

Potentially amazing...or, a disaster.

UPDATE: Now I'm hearing it's going to be this, which just gave me the chills. Guess we'll know soon enough.

Dance Off!

2009-05-10T22:15:00.000-07:00

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun was the best dance movie of the 80s. Yep, even better than Dirty Dancing. The cast! The music! I'm about to watch it right now but just wanted to share this clip before I lose myself in this hotness.

Wasn't Sarah Jessica cute back then? Come on...even Trooper has to admit she wasn't that much of a horse face 20 years ago.

All This For A Fucking EP?

2009-05-10T18:05:00.000-07:00

Ed Harcourt, my most favorite singer songwriter, has a new EP out, with six (6) songs. Uh...ok?

This is a man with over a hundred songs in his catalog, and hundreds more unreleased. He's released 5 albums, been nominated for a Mercury Prize, and has toured all over the world.

Again, he's releasing an EP. I don't know if this is the work of his record label or he's just being lazy, but...this is all a little bizarre. Fucking stupid, if I'm being honest.

Here's what he has up on his blog:

Hey everybody, I'm pleased to announce that May 5th marks the release of my new EP, Russian Roulette. The EP consists of 6 brand new songs, and it will be my first new material in 3 years!

We have set up a pre-order for the EP online here: http://www.districtlines.com/12871-Russian-Roulette-EP-Music/

The EP will come in the form of a 512 MB USB thumb drive shaped like a bullet! Along with the music, the drive will feature music videos that I personally made for each of the songs, photos, the album artwork, and other bonus material.

GIVEAWAY! That's right folks, it gets even better... all USB pre-orders will be automatically entered to win a limited edition silk-screened toy piano!

WTF.

This would be amazing if it were all tied to a full length album, but even that is a stretch.

Music videos! Pre-sale links! Crazy ass USB drives! Six new songs...?

Fail.

Maybe just put out an album? Meanwhile, I'll be downloading this EP illegally. Thanks.

Is Atheism A Form Of Faith?

2009-05-10T16:04:00.000-07:00

That is to say, is not believing in God (or whatever name you know him by) a kind of faith in and of itself?

I have faith that this is all there is.

Matt Taibbi thinks it's strange that people like Stanley Fish (who I abhorred having to read in college) go out of their way to suggest that non-believers have to believe in something:

They seem to think that if one doesn’t believe in God, one must believe in something else, because to live without answers would be intolerable. And maybe that’s true of the humorless Richard Dawkins, who does seem actually to have tried to turn atheism into a kind of religion unto itself. But there are plenty of other people who are simply comfortable not knowing the answers. It always seemed weird to me that this quality of not needing an explanation and just being cool with what few answers we have inspires such verbose indignation in people like Eagleton and Fish. They seem determined to prove that the quality of not believing in heaven and hell and burning bushes and saints is a rigid dogma all unto itself, as though it required a concerted intellectual effort to disbelieve in a God who thinks gays (Leviticus 20:13) or people who work on Sunday (Exodus 35:2) should be put to death. They’ll tie themselves into knots arguing this, and they’ll probably never stop.

He's mostly right, but maybe if he spent less time paying attention to Stanley Fish and people who preach religion, he wouldn't be so frustrated. Why even think about these loons if you can already predict what they're going to say ten seconds before they say it?

I am quite proud to not call myself an atheist or an agnostic or a Christian or any other thing. These sorts of labels don't even occur to me when thinking about what I "believe." I mean, the idea of practicing a religion is no more interesting to me than reading a childrens' fairytale. It's like...why? You know what I believe? I believe I'm going to get up and go to work tomorrow, and I believe I'm going to live my life.

If You Voted For Obama, You Are A Horny, Brainwashed Maniac

2009-05-10T12:47:00.000-07:00

That's the opinion held by the majority of commenters on Althouse.

A fight broke out when I criticized Obama for hating polar bears, as one commenter, "Palladian," took me to task for being disappointed in Obama when I had in fact voted for him last November. This post will give you all the details, and it's an interesting look at how a mob of thugs will hitch themselves to any anti-Obama wagon of vitriol, even when the hatred is completely incoherent and misdirected.

Now, I'm all for a good argument, a good fight, and good insults, but at the end of the day, you can only put up with so much lunacy. Had I been over there defending Obama and taken heat for it, I could understand the backlash (the Althouse blog is fueled by commenters who claim to be conservatives, even though Althouse says she voted for Obama). But in this case I was taking Obama to task for something, as I've done here several times, and instead of letting my criticism stand, the comments turned into a love fest for all things Obama hate.

So, I became frustrated with these people, who I usually like if not get a kick out of, and told them, "Adios."

I want to spar and comment back and forth with people who use my words against me with integrity and wit, not people who twist my words and take them completely out of context to fit their own hysterical ideology. You wanna lash out against all that you despise? Good, do it. But making straw men out of bystanders who might be inclined to actually take your side every once and a while only makes you look desperate, not to mention a total dick.

There are commenters over there with plenty of sanity, and rather than name names, they know who they are. And it ain't just the ones who voted for Obama.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go bow to my Obama shrine.

Is Pressuring Obama On Gay Rights Selfish?

2009-05-08T12:22:00.000-07:00

With two horrific wars and a disastrous economy already on his plate, is now the time to demand that Obama move on things like "don't ask, don't tell" and gay marriage? Yes, a president has to know how to multitask, and sure, Obama had campaigned on the promise that gay rights advancements would be a part of his presidency, but could it be possible that we're asking for too much, too soon?

Gay bloggers and activists, the cable talking heads (above), and even the front page of yesterday's New York Times all suggest that Obama should consider engaging his gay supporters and the issues they care about soon...or else.

Or else what? They won't vote for him in 2012?

While I'll certainly hold Obama accountable for his past campaign promises when deciding who to vote for in 2012, we're still only 109 days into his first term. Assuming you had any expectations of him in the first place, how long are you willing to give Obama when it comes to him actively supporting the gay community? And before you answer, don't forget to consider everything else going on in the world right now.

(X-posted)

"Laughing With"

2009-05-08T10:52:00.000-07:00

New Regina Spektor...and it does not disappoint.

Beautiful!

The lyrics are just...perfect:

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one's laughing at God when they're starving or freezing or so very poor

No one laughs at God when the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one's laughing at God when it's gotten real late
And their kid's not back from the party yet
No one laughs at God when their airplane starts to uncontrollably shake
No one's laughing at God when they see the one they love
Hand in hand with someone else and they hope they're mistaken

No one laughs at God when the cops knock on their door
And they say we got some bad news, sir
No one's laughing at God when there's a famine, fire or flood

But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they're 'bout to choke

God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jimminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious
Ha ha
Ha ha

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one's laughing at God when they've lost all they've got
And they don't know what for

No one laughs at God on the day they realize that the last sight they'll ever see
Is a pair of hateful eyes
No one's laughing at God when they're saying their goodbyes

But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they're 'bout to choke

God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jimminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughing at God in a hospital
No one's laughing at God in a war

No one's laughing at god when they're starving or freezing or so very poor

No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God
We're all laughing with God

Hey This Baby Thing Looks Like A Breeze!

2009-05-06T07:43:00.000-07:00

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Here's Bristol Palin telling teenage sluts not to have babies, because then you won't be able to hang out with your friends. Makes sense! It's "hard work," this raising kids thing, because you'll have to go on teevee and talk about stuff. Also too, you run the risk of making your baby think you hate him when he grows up, seeing as how you went on national television to tell everyone that you wished you didn't have him. Class.

"Fuck You"

2009-05-05T14:56:00.000-07:00

I love Lily Allen, and I love these kids. It's a summer anthem!

As If We'd Let Our Children Anywhere Near Him

2009-05-05T12:36:00.001-07:00

Hey, it's not easy to stay in the news these days, especially if you're a former unlicensed plumber whose only source of income now is working as a phone sex operator. So what do you do if you're Joe The Plumber and you're still seeking publicity? You offend even more millions of people than you already have by doing a Q&A with Christianity Today:

In the last month, same-sex marriage has become legal in Iowa and Vermont. What do you think about same-sex marriage at a state level?

At a state level, it's up to them. I don't want it to be a federal thing. I personally still think it's wrong. People don't understand the dictionary—it's called queer. Queer means strange and unusual. It's not like a slur, like you would call a white person a honky or something like that. You know, God is pretty explicit in what we're supposed to do—what man and woman are for. Now, at the same time, we're supposed to love everybody and accept people, and preach against the sins. I've had some friends that are actually homosexual. And, I mean, they know where I stand, and they know that I wouldn't have them anywhere near my children. But at the same time, they're people, and they're going to do their thing.

This, this Joe The Plumber person, is the person being trotted out as the face of the Republican party. Is anyone surprised that less than 25% of Americans still identify as Republicans?

And why is it that whenever someone says something awful about gay people, it's always prefaced with an admission of having anonymous "homosexual friends"? Not that Joe has any gay friends (if you are one, come out, come out wherever you are), but even if he did, is this supposed to lend some sort of credibility to his bigotry? Please. There's no need to front load your hate speech with imaginary friends, just come right out and say it! At least it'd be more honest.

(X-Posted)

BARF

2009-05-04T13:27:00.000-07:00

Gag me. Puke. Vomit. Vulgar. Shameful. Disgusting.

And, did I mention...BARF?

BARF.

I'm Still On My Grad School's E-Mail List

2009-05-02T20:27:00.000-07:00

I've been receiving e-mails from my MFA program director for the past year and a half, well after I left the school. Of course, this organizational error and professional irresponsibility is indicative of why I left the program in the first place (hello, you're sending confidential information out to someone who should have no business receiving it), but of course I still read the messages regardless. They're oddly comforting, and somewhat surreal. It's a tiny peek into a big messy world that I'm so glad I left behind.

Still, I imagine what could have been. What would it be like? These e-mails are a reminder. They make me a little despondent, not because I think I "gave up," but because the entire experience was such a disappointment. My professional life right now is better than ever, but to think, had I remained in New York, I'd be graduating right about now, and I'd be undoubtedly unemployed, possibly unemployable...

Dear Students,

I hope this helps to clarify the thesis binding process. If not, I'm happy to explain further or show you an example. thanks! Lori Lynn

You must turn in 2 (TWO) copies on acid-free paper, double spaced. Put the creative thesis first, literature project second (paginated as one document), with appropriate cover sheet and have the copy shop use vellum binding. (Kinko’s, Village Copier, Cyberfelds etc.) You will need to print your name, thesis title, year of graduation, and concentration on the binding, or you can attach a label. Please no spiral binding. If you have any questions about the binding process please stop by the Writing Program office and we will show you an example.

I've Never Watched An Episode Of The Simpsons

2009-05-02T16:10:00.001-07:00

I made this statement the other day, and I've been thinking it about it ever since. Sure, I've seen snippets of the show, a clip here or there. I might have even watched almost half an episode once, just to see if I would enjoy it. The truth is, I'll never enjoy this show. Same thing goes for Family Guy, King Of The Hill, Futurama, and pretty much any other animated program on primetime television.

I've been thinking about why these shows have never appealed to me, when other programs like The Smurfs, Scooby Doo, He Man, Muppet Babies, The Gummi Bears, and Ducktales still demand my attention whenever I stumble upon them on cable or here on the internet. And I think I know why: Cartoons made for adults are phony.

Cartoons are supposed to be for children, so I don't think it's interesting or hip when there's a cartoon trying to impress an adult with witty writing. It's like, please. And don't try to think you're being clever because you're turning horribly drawn and/or computer generated images into ironic characters. Just because you can create a juxtaposition doesn't mean it's going to be brilliant or unique.

Take the Road Runner and Wild E. Coyote. It's probably the best cartoon series ever made, and it doesn't try to be anything other than what it is. The simplicity is perfect, and it appeals to adults and children without any gimmicks or gestures. Just show an anvil crushing a coyote, throw in some sound effects, and you've got great television for everyone.

Now, some would argue that plenty of children enjoy The Simpsons, and that may be true. But don't kid yourself. It, along with the other cartoons I lumped it in with, is made for an adult audience, not children. That children might enjoy the animation is irrelevant.

There's something bizarre about adults being entertained by cartoons, when those cartoons are made specifically to entertain adults. Does it mean that the adults who do enjoy these cartoons are immature and intellectually challenged? I don't know, probably not. I do know that the jokes on these cartoons aren't all simplistic, in fact many of them are quite sophisticated. And maybe that's my problem. Why pair such intelligent writing (as much of it is on these cartoons) with such shoddy, cheap looking animation? It's all so disingenuous and contrived, and I'm not buying it. Let real people and characters do and say these smart, funny things. Not poorly drawn orange people. Dumb.

All of this being said...I think South Park is one of the best shows on television. I think it's because it's so over the top and so offensive and so adept at tackling social and political issues, whereas the other shows never push any envelopes. Or, maybe they do. Like I said, I've never seen a full episode.

American Idol's Top 5

2009-04-29T06:53:00.000-07:00

Last night's Idol featured performances from the "rat pack" era, which I'm sure the tweens tuning in totally remembered. How this show, which every week features songs that are between 20 and 50 fucking years old, manages to stay relevant is as mysterious as what drugs are running through Paula Abdul's bloodstream. Somehow, it works.

Let's take a look at the top five contestants, and why I think two of them need to be banished to performing at county fairs and/or the opening of a Long John Silver's franchise...

(Read the rest!)

Sure Hope You Don't Catch That Pig Flu

2009-04-26T23:08:00.001-07:00

Watch out! It's spreading.

Now, I'm no scientist, but why is everyone making such a stink over a flu? You catch it, you feel like shit for a couple days, you move on. Big whoop.

Meanwhile, the real thing you need to look out for is what drugs you take should you in fact become infected. Our government is sending Tamiflu to everyone and their mother, but what the fuck is Tamiflu?

It ain't good:

There are concerns that oseltamivir (Tamiflu) may cause dangerous psychological, neuropsychiatric side effects including self harm in some users. These dangerous side effects occur more commonly in children than in adults. This stems from cases in Japan, where the drug is most heavily prescribed. Concern has focused on teenagers, but problems have also been reported in children and adults.

In March 2007, Japan's Health Ministry warned that oseltamivir should not be given to those aged 10 to 19. The Ministry had previously decided, in May 2004, to change the literature accompanying oseltamivir to include neurological and psychological disorders as possible adverse effects, including: impaired consciousness, abnormal behavior, and hallucinations.

According to Japan's Health Ministry, between 2004 and March 2007, fifteen people aged 10 to 19 have been injured or killed by jumps or fallen from buildings after taking oseltamivir, and one 17-year-old died after he jumped in front of a truck. A renewed investigation of the Japanese data was completed in April 2007. It found that 128 patients had been reported to behave abnormally after taking oseltamivir since 2001. Forty-three of them were under 10 years old, 57 patients were aged 10 to 19, and 28 patients were aged 20 or over. Eight people, including five teens and three adults, had died from these actions.

In November 2006, the United States Food and Drug Administration (FDA) amended the warning label to include the possible side effects of delirium, hallucinations, or other related behavior. This went further than the FDA's previous pronouncement, from a year before, that there was insufficient evidence to claim a causal link between oseltamivir use and the deaths of 12 Japanese children (only two were from neurological problems, although more have died since then).

Good luck out there, everyone!

As if getting pig flu isn't bad enough, then you have to worry about whether or not you might jump off a bridge?

Why Hasn't Kansas' DSRS Removed The Westboro Children From Their Homes?

2009-04-25T10:34:00.000-07:00

If Texas' child protection agency was willing to remove the children from that polygamist sect, why hasn't the Kansas Department of Social and Rehabilitation Services taken care of Fred Phelps' Westboro Baptist Church kids?

Put aside the obvious evidence showing these kids being mentally abused and brainwashed, because whether you like it or not, it is legal to make your kids say and do whatever you want.

However, the Kansas DSRS does need to get involved if there is a threat of violence or death surrounding these children. And that threat has now come in the form of a blog post on the church's official website, indicating that members are about to engage in mass suicide. I'm serious. Read it for yourself.

I just called the agency but there was no answer (it's Saturday). I'll be calling back on Monday to demand that they investigate immediately, and I highly encourage you to call as well. The number is 785-296-3959. Refer them to the church's website (linked above), and explain to them that dozens of children are in danger of being murdered.

If you don't believe me or don't want to trouble yourself with trying to decipher what the blog post in question is, here's an excerpt:

...the time is shortly to come when we will grant you your wicked wish, Doomed america! Your smart-assed pundits and foul-mouthed politicians have for years told us to pack up and leave if we don’t like this filthy little cancerous boil on the butt of the earth. You all think you’re so clever that you can come up with such cutesy little quips.

It’s about time for us to leave this place. The prophets said it would have to happen, and we have learned from a whole lot of years of up-close and personal experience that we should listen to the prophets.

We gotta go, peeps! We gotta go! And when we do, it’s time for this filthy nation to receive of all the plagues that your Creator has promised.

While it would be fine for these adults to die, none of us can tolerate the murder of innocent children. They still have a chance at a semi-normal life. Call the DSRS and point them to the Westboro website.

That number again: 785-296-3959
Here's the Kansas DSRS website (if for whatever reason someone still isn't picking up the phone on Monday).

And here again is the Westboro blog post clearly hinting at mass suicide.

Finally, watch this video. It's a clip from the Showtime documentary "Fall From Grace." The whole thing is available on You Tube, but this segment in particular speaks to this issue of children.

Devastating.

Huntington Beach Gets Its First Gay Bar, Hilarious Newspaper Article Ensues

2009-04-23T22:30:00.001-07:00

Whoa hey I wasn't expecting this. Were you?

There's a new bar in my hometown of Huntington Beach (that's in Orange County, CA)...and IT'S GAY.

It's the Metro Q!

Check out the site for more, including info on, uh, upcoming Imperial Court functions, Bear night, and someone by the name of Jodi who is apparently "OC's Hottest Bartender." Sure. Got it.

Now, I live right down the street from this place so I might have to check it out, but those of you who live around here know that anything going on near Beach and Garfield can't be that hot. Sorry, but a gay bar in a strip mall with a Fantastic Sam's, a nail salon, and an Urgent Care walk-in clinic doesn't exactly scream sexy times. But hey, I'll take off my cynicism hat if I can get fucked up without having to trek out to Long Beach, pass out on a drag queen's floor, wake up with glitter on half of my face, and then do a 45 minute walk of shame to wherever the hell I parked my car.

The best thing about Metro Q though is the newspaper write-up from the local publication. They have no idea how to handle something like this. A bar, for homosexuals, in Surf City? Whatever will HB's bros and hos do?

What follows is a hilarious piece from the HB Independent. Try to get through one sentence at a time without dying. I dare you. Journalism at its finest:

A place of comfort

Two friends create a gay-friendly spot where anyone can relax and enjoy a cocktail.

By Ashley Breeding

(Yes, that's the reporter's real name.)

Metro Q — the “Q” stands for “queer” — may sound like a swanky and hip spot. But this new gay bar and grill, which recently opened its doors at 19092 Beach Blvd. is mellower than your typical gay venue.

Co-owners of the Q, Ida Vallez and Scott Forst, said it’s meant to be a meeting place for everyone.

“It’s more like gay-friendly,” Vallez said. “Scott and I didn’t want a club, but a comfy establishment with good food and cocktails where gay couples could come with their families and just feel comfortable and accepted.

“So far, the crowd has been a mix of people — straight, gay, men, women and even kids. And that’s just what we wanted.”

Haha...they are turning all of Huntington Beach's children into fags.

Having grown frustrated with a lack of gay venues in Orange County, the longtime (gay) friends decided to become business partners and open the kind of place they were looking for all on their own.

Thanks for (clarifying).

“Until now, you’d have to go Los Angeles or Long Beach to have the kind of experience we’re providing,” Vallez said. “Some of us would prefer to stay close to home, and now we can.”

The Q, which serves up traditional pub-style cuisine, including tasty homemade recipes and drink specials like the Q-Shot (a Hypnotique and X-rated concoction), also offers entertainment in the form of two pool tables, a dozen 50-inch plasma TVs — for sports or “Dancing with the Stars” — a juke box and plenty of chatty bartenders.

“We don’t have a permit for dancing yet, but we’re looking to add that down the road,” Vallez said. “We’d like to bring in some deejays and maybe put on some shows.

“It won’t be anything quite like the old Drag Night at Boom Boom Room, but we’ll have something fun.”

Oh, don't worry. You had me at Dancing With The Stars.

The Q, which opened March 25, will host its official grand-opening party May 2. The festivities will include a free buffet, drink specials, raffles and celebrity guests to be announced.

Celebrities in Huntington Beach! Is Nicole Eggert available? (That's an inside joke for us HB folks in the know.)

Forst said he is ecstatic to be a part of the new spot and the first week and a half has seen an excellent turnout.

“People have been looking for a place like this for a long time,” he said. “It’s a great, convenient place for everyone to come and have a good time.”

Metro Q is open all week.

OK. I am going there tomorrow night and will have a full report. Watch me get gay bashed in the IHOP parking lot next door.

Can I Waterboard Condoleezza Rice?

2009-04-22T22:24:00.000-07:00

I mean, just to give her a taste of what it's like.

After all, she never had any problem with it.

AND: I'll gladly pretend to drown Nancy Pelosi, too. Seems she was in on it as well.

All of these people are not fit to fucking clean shit from toilets. Lock them up forever and throw away the keys.

Are These The New Faces Of The Marriage Equality Movement?

2009-04-22T12:07:00.000-07:00

Is this the best we've got?

Then And Now: Depeche Mode

2009-04-21T18:52:00.000-07:00

In honor of their new album being released today ("Sounds Of The Universe"), which is fantastic, I think this is more than appropriate.

Here's Dave and the gang...in 1982! Be sure to watch the whole thing...there are some incredible frontman antics from Dave towards the end. Signs of what was to come, obviously.

Just Can't Get Enough

Can you handle it?!

Here's Dave and the slightly modified gang...in 2006!

Performing...Just Can't Get Enough!

(500) Days Of Summer

2009-04-18T20:59:00.000-07:00

This looks great, doesn't it? Joseph Gordon-Levitt has sort of become a brooding leading man, and I like it. Zooey Deschanel looks lovely as usual. The soundtrack, of course, makes this trailer, and I hope some of the same music is actually in the film. Due out in July.

"We are in dark times. Prosecuting these people would pull us into more darkness."

2009-04-18T11:59:00.000-07:00

Obama's decision not to prosecute the CIA torturers and those who permitted them to torture, including members of the Bush administration, is his first decision that has made me regret voting for him in November. Now, there isn't any politician who would've done such a thing, and I shouldn't be surprised by this move, but it is still a major disappointment.

Not only does it give a green light to future administrations, it tells the world that yes, indeed, we do torture, and it's okay. It tells extremist groups and rogue nations that we are in fact no better than them. Worst of all, this gives terrorists and extremists all the justification in the world to go ahead and torture our military or citizens (not that they ever bothered to be justified or had an excuse to begin with, but still) should they ever become captured.

Here's just a sample of what we are supposed to forgive and "reflect" on, from the memos released Thursday:

This 46-page May 10, 2005 memo from OLC Chief Steven Bradbury authorizes (under Constitutional and international law) all of these tactics for any "high-value detainees": nudity, "dietary manipulation" involving "minimum caloric intake at commercial weight-loss programs," "corrective techniques" (facial and abdominal slapping), water dousing, "walling," stress positions and "wall standing" (to "induce muscle fatigue and the attendant discomfort"), cramped confinement, and sleep deprivation. It also authorized "no more than two sessions" of waterboarding in "any 24-hour period."

Obama's statement upon release of these memos, which is almost comical, notes that "This is a time for reflection, not retribution," and that "The United States is a nation of laws." So, we're a nation of laws, which are only enforced when, you know, we feel like it.

The argument that we could be "pulled into more darkness" (a well-intentioned but wrong stance taken by my own mother), is a dangerously naive way to look at America, and it almost bothers me more than Obama's decision. Let's not forget: We are a nation that sanctions and accepts the killing of innocent civilians in war. We are a nation that has legalized abortion and the death penalty. We are a nation that celebrates grotesque plastic surgery and reality teevee stars eating pig vaginas and obese people with high-fructose corn syrup oozing from their pores. We are a nation obsessed with a woman who had eight fucking babies.

But no, the rule of law—justice—that would be too much. How ever would we survive, as a nation?

I don't care what you think about the Bush administration or interrogation techniques or Obama. But by this logic, this notion that "America is too fragile to punish itself for its crimes," rapists will not be prosecuted out of respect for their victims. Murderers can not be charged because it would be too hard on the families of the murdered. Child molesters are forgiven and set free, because after all, it's all so dark.

Of course, we do prosecute these people, these criminals. Apparently, crimes of an individual deserve retribution, but the crimes of an entire government, that's just something we should reflect upon.

When Obama says that "this is a time for reflection, not retribution," one has to wonder. At what point did "retribution" become a bad word? Even more, at what point did "reflection" become mutually exclusive of "retribution"? This Bushian manipulation of language, by Obama, is pathetic and dishonest. As Hillary once said: Shame on you, Obama.

The law is the law is the law, and while it is disgusting and terrifying that our president has ignored it, we have so much more to be fearful of in the coming years and administrations. Think about it.

If someone like Obama, who marketed himself as progressive and honest and an agent of change, and who said he was committed to accountability and responsibility, won't seek punishment for our nation's most egregious and horrific criminals, who will?

Thanks, But No Thanks

2009-04-18T11:35:00.001-07:00

Reason #45848229 why I'm so glad I stopped going to Coachella years ago:

HAHAHA Loony Wingnut "Journalist" Arrested While Trying To Defend Sarah Palin's Honor!

2009-04-17T11:27:00.000-07:00

Talk about making my week, my month, and my year! Here is hack of all hacks, John Ziegler, being arrested by USC campus police. The Zieg was there to protest Katie Couric being given an award for her infamous interview with dingbat Sarah Palin (you'll remember that Ziegler is a crazed fan of Palin) and he makes a fool of himself by resisting arrest and then complaining about his poor handcuffed wrists at the end of the video. It's "Don't Taze Me Bro!" meets "Fuck It! Do It Live!"

Ziegler has previously made a fool of himself trying to take on John Kerry, David Foster Wallace, and Obama, which I covered all at this link.

Teabagging, West Hollywood Style

2009-04-15T22:35:00.000-07:00

The video we produced at work today.

All Your Teabagging Needs!

2009-04-15T14:39:00.001-07:00

Photos.

Hilarious commentary.

Video.

Get your teabag on, and have a blast laughing at the clueless nuts. I'm at work, where we just filmed our very own teabagging video on the streets of West Hollywood. Stay tuned, it's a good one.

The LA Times Is Now Officially A Parody Of A Newspaper

2009-04-14T21:25:00.000-07:00

Not that it hadn't already become a joke over the past couple of years, but this, this is just pathetic.

The Los Angeles Times ran a front-page ad on Thursday that resembled a news column.

The ad, for the new NBC show “Southland,” was written and designed to look like a news article, chronicling the “Southland” protagonist’s patrol in Los Angeles. The promotion ran on the lower half of the paper’s left column, with the headline, “Southland’s Rookie Hero.” Forming an L, a horizontal ad for the show ran across the bottom of the page. The top of the column was labeled “Advertisement,” and included NBC’s peacock logo.

It is the first time the newspaper has run a mock news column on its front page as an ad, although the paper has been running front-page ads since 2007.

That front page:Oh, I know. In this economy, companies, particularly ~~dinosaurs~~ newspapers, have to be innovative and bring in revenue however they can. But at what, uh, cost? A newspaper, which is supposed to be a medium that delivers truth and information, that puts a phony story on its front page, regardless of whether or not the story was obviously an ad and not intended to confuse readers, is a little like a hospital opening a new facility sponsored by a cigarette company. Welcome to the RJ Reynolds Cancer Center. Would you go there for your trusted medical care?

If you're gonna have ads, just make them ads. The bottom part of that "Southland" ad would've been fine. But no, I guess they got, what, a couple extra grand (because honestly, how much can space cost at a paper with literally tens of subscribers) for putting in the "article" part of the ad.

Mark my words: By this time next year, section A will be entirely written by PR flacks from NBC, Fox, and maybe Perez Hilton. Pitiful to the dying breath.

Quotable

2009-04-14T18:33:00.000-07:00

John Althouse Cohen is awesome. (And not just because he quoted me! His whole blog is great.)

Deep Thoughts

2009-04-14T18:24:00.000-07:00

Whenever I see obese people ordering massively unhealthy Chinese takeout right before I'm about to order, I spontaneously modify what my planned order had been— orange chicken, fried rice, beef w/broccoli— and just go with white rice and steamed vegetables. Don't wanna end up like them.

Here's An Original Post

2009-04-13T20:24:00.001-07:00

Yes, I've been cross posting and linking to my work on Unzipped, and that's because I just want you to know that I'm still writing, every day. Just not here. There's only so much time in the day...

I also want you to know that on April 9th, this blog celebrated its One Year Anniversary! I had planned a big post to commemorate the date, but on April 9th, I was admitted into the hospital. Whoops.

So yeah, one year. I've already done so many best-of lists, there's no need to do another. Instead, I'll just link to my first ever post, which is actually a pointless post, but hey, it was the first one. This blog has seen a lot of action over the year that can't be contained in a "best-of list" anyways. From music to politics to teevee to live-blogging to fashion to film...you know the drill.

It started when I was bored at a job I didn't like, then I got laid off and ramped up my posting, which coincided with the election. It was a blast. Then I got a job that I did/do like, and I'm lucky to get one thing up here a day. Sorry about that one. But I'm totally fine with it, because if it weren't for this blog I wouldn't have a job that I love, as a blogger.

I'm still here, damn it. Just not as much as I used to be. And you can always look up my work on Unzipped, and sometimes Gay Wired. Some of it is sort of NSFW-ish, but we're all adults here, so deal with it. I love you.

More From NOM

2009-04-13T20:22:00.000-07:00

"...here's another pretty good video making fun of the National Organization for Marriage (NOM), which apparently still considers itself a real organization and not a parody. It's pretty awesome that this group was deemed an epic failure the moment it put out its first ad. The more clumsy, poorly managed, blatantly bigoted groups like these, the better!

And in case you missed their last press release..."

Rick Warren Pulls A Lohan

2009-04-13T20:19:00.000-07:00

"...even though Warren was able to perform all of his Easter services yesterday, he wasn't able to complete any interviews due to fatigue from what aides called 'inhalation of fumes from the newly refurbished (but still drying) pulpit used in the televised services the previous night,' which basically means he was doing poppers."

Sire Says Advisory: Surgery

2009-04-11T15:08:00.000-07:00

I finally had it, last night. Of course, it had to happen after rushing to the ER at 3:00 am Thursday morning. Sometimes the only way to get things done is during emergencies, apparently. They removed the cyst laparoscopically, which while non-invasive, still hurts. They may not have cut me wide open, but they still dig around in your abdomen, fill you up with air, and generally fuck everything up in there, so I'm in pain, at least for a couple days. Vicodin is on the way.

Two quick things before I abandon the blog for the rest of the weekend:

1. I haven't had solid food or a cigarette since Wednesday evening...let's see how long I can keep it up! I have had at least 25 mg of dilaudid (sp) and hundreds of milligrams of vicodin.

2. The question "How bad is you pain on a scale of 1 to 10" is the most pointless piece of bullshit fucking question, ever. I just said "10, 10, 10, 10" after the first thousand times all the idiot nurses asked. Most of the nurses were fucking annoying whores, by the way, but there were a couple decent ones.

Good night.

Oh What The Fuck

2009-04-08T23:13:00.000-07:00

Umm, I'm not even going to try to make sense of this. You try and figure it out:

"This is a photo of Levi Johnston cradling tenderly Trig Palin, allegedly born April 18, 2008. It was taken the same day as the photos that Mercede (Levi's sister) put up on her MySpace page, some time before May 5th 2008. Surely, if Tripp IS Levi's child (and Trig is the son of his ex future mother-in-law) there would be no earthly reason to release photos of Trig with Levi on [The Tyra Banks show], that was supposed to be about current events, i.e., Tripp's birth and the current relationship with Tripp's mother. But...someone in the Johnston clan selected this photo. Of Levi cuddling Trig."

More evidence here.

Jesus fucking christ this will never end until these snowbillys go on Maury Povich, not Tyra Banks.

About That Phony Outrage Surrounding Obama's "Bow" To The Saudi Prince

2009-04-08T16:13:00.001-07:00

Thank you.

(Note: I've made a new tag, and will have to go back and apply it to a bunch of posts.)

Rick Warren's Lies

2009-04-07T14:06:00.000-07:00

...sometimes a lie is so blatant and so brazen, you might wonder how the liar thinks he can get away with it. And then you see the liar getting away with such blatant and brazen lies on national television and you remember...oh, right, this happens every day. Hey, why tell the truth about anything when you can just go on the teevee with oh, I don't know, let's say a "journalist," and peddle whatever you want, regardless of whether or not any of it is true? Hooray, CNN!

Boy Was I Wrong

2009-04-04T16:31:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I listened to five tracks from the new Depeche Mode album, Sounds Of The Universe, and I wrote:

Keep in mind that this is just a 5-song promo (the whole thing hasn't leaked yet), but of those five songs, not one is good. In fact, you might say that they are all horrible. [...] If the other songs on the forthcoming album don't compensate, I fear we'll be looking at the biggest disappointment of the year, and their worst album ever.

Well, this morning I was lucky enough to get my hands on a copy of the full, 13-track album, and...it's quite good.

Somehow, the songs I've already heard even manage to be good, when listened to within context of the whole album. This is a solid, extremely lush, synth heavy (of course) collection, and it is a worthy addition to the 2nd half of DM's body of work (their career is bisected by their defining album, Ultra, IMHO).

If you like the familiar sound of Dave Gahan's voice blended into 21st century techno computer blips and bleeps, and dark, haunting chords, pick up Sounds Of The Universe. Melodically, this album blows their last one, Playing The Angel out of the water.

Case in point, the track below, "Peace." I love it when he hits that high note.

Not To Gloat, But...

2009-04-03T12:04:00.000-07:00

The best part about the, ahem, unanimous ruling in Iowa that called the state's gay marriage ban unconstitutional is of course the fact that gay couples will now be allowed to be as boring as straight couples. Equality in the Heartland! Who knew?

But the second best part about Iowa's Supreme Court ruling? Reactions from the phony Christians and the mouth breathing trash all around the Internet!

A sampling, here.

Apparently I'm Not Very Savvy...

2009-03-27T16:19:00.000-07:00

...when it comes to hotel things.

So I'm all checked into my room, which has a beautiful view of the Golden Gate Bridge and parts of downtown, and I decide to head out. I walk down the street and see a delicatessen, which is just what I was looking for. I pick up some water, Perrier, beer, snacks, and gum.

I get back to my room and decide to put the beer and water into the mini-bar. I open the thing up and it's stocked pretty full, so I start taking everything out and put it up on a shelf in the adjoining cabinet. Champagne, wine, some Euro-trashy beer, couple little bottles of gin...and then I see the sign on the side of the fridge:

DEAR GUEST! For your convenience: Any product removed from the MiniBar is AUTOMATICALLY charged to your account.

NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

I look at all the empty slots where the booze used to be and notice little buttons with red lights.

NOOOOOOOO!!!

This has to be at least two, three hundred dollars worth of hotel mini-bar booze.

I immediately call what I think is the front desk, but it sounds like India, and the voice on the phone says, "Ah yes sir, you are automatically charged because of the sensors."

"The what?" I say.

"Sir, the sensors, sir," says the voice.

I tell the voice that I am right now, at this very moment, putting everything back. I didn't know!

The voice says I'll need to speak with the front desk for an adjustment. The front desk person then gets on the phone, but says I'll need to hold. I hold. I continue to hold. I hold some more. There is some music. I'm holding. It's been 20 minutes. I hang up.

I will call back once check-in time dies down and the front desk is not busy. But all I can keep hearing in my head as I picture each of those empty little slots and all those bottles stacked away on the nearby shelf is....NOOOOOO!!!

A Weekend Getaway

2009-03-27T05:31:00.000-07:00

I'm outta here for a few days.

Yes, I'm traveling for business, but that doesn't mean there won't be a little pleasure, too.

I'm driving, and I can't wait to hit the road.

My surgery was scheduled yesterday, and it's going to be a pretty non-invasive procedure, so there's a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. In less than two weeks, I'll be having laparascopic marsupialization of a splenic cyst. Google it!

But this post isn't about the spleen, it's about me telling you that I'm going to San Francisco this weekend.

Maybe I'll put some pictures up once I'm settled? Maybe I'll avoid the computer all weekend.

But, like I said, I'm driving. And I can't wait to hit the road. So...

Well, Here We Go

2009-03-25T15:19:00.000-07:00

The trailer for the movie that could either destroy my childhood memories or be the best movie of the year is finally here. And by the looks of it, I think it's going to be the latter.

Try not to tear up...

Spike Jonze's "Where The Wild Things Are"

More Teleprompter Reaction

2009-03-25T12:45:00.001-07:00

That epic clown of a failure from the AP, Ron Fournier, isn't just amusing me today (see post below). His "analysis" (haha) of Obama's presser last night is giving Wonkette plenty to say as well:

You know what other kinds of politicians “bring” teleprompters — slung under their arms, we might assume — to news conferences? All of them, because you see they all have these things called “speechwriters.” It’s a little known fact, sure, but sometimes the remarks politicians give at events are already… pre-written! And then they “read” them to the public either from a teleprompter, or from sheets of paper, or note cards, who cares, all they have to do is read them authoritatively.

It seems that Ron Fournier and many others have forgotten the basic format of every single presidential press conference ever, which is for the President to read a prepared statement for 5 minutes or so and then take questions. Would they be happier if Obama spent five hours of his workday trying to memorize his remarks?

Thank you.

Obama's TELEPROMPTER!!!!!1!!!

2009-03-25T11:45:00.000-07:00

I've had enough of all this teleprompter talk, which is evidently all the wingnuts have left to criticize Obama over. They love talking about his teleprompter, over and over and over and over again.

These people have either been fucked in the skull by vibrating saws one too many times and have no memory left, or, they do remember and simply don't think anyone else will.

Well, newsflash idiots, EVERY SINGLE POLITICIAN AND PRESIDENT HAS USED A TELEPROMPTER SINCE THE EXISTENCE OF TELEPROMPTERS.

The jig is up! Find something else to cream your jeans over, or continue jerking off in your basements to Rush Limbaugh. Either way, game over.

"Shared Sacrifice"

2009-03-24T18:42:00.001-07:00

Did you watch the Obama? On the primetime teevee (preempting American Idol!)?

I watched it on the internet, and it was boring, mostly because all those clowns kept asking stupid, redundant questions. Haha, these people claim to be journalists.

ANYWAYS, the most inane one came from Chuck Todd (the goateed man-child from NBC), when he kept bugging your Obama with some shit about "shared sacrifice." Lame.

I don't remember exactly what they said to each other (my stream kept buffering!), but luckily, notable pig fucker and all around cunt Jonah Goldberg, from conservative cum dumpster "The Corner," has a recap of sorts:

Obama's round-robin with Chuck Todd over the issue of sacrifice is actually pretty interesting. Maybe I missed something, but it sure sounded like Obama is simply unwilling to really call for sacrifice from the American people. George Bush was denounced for not calling for sacrifice after 9/11, and one could argue he should have found a way to tap into the sentiment after 9/11 to get people on board with an energy policy that would defund the Wahhabists and others (nuclear, ANWR, etc). Regardless, Obama's plan has a liberal version of sacrifice. He wants to tax energy. But he won't call that sacrifice. Nor will he call crushing debt for future generations sacrifice. He's also constrained by the fact that he needs consumers to spend money — which is the chief reason Bush didn't buy into the sacrifice stuff. Regardless, it's kind of jarring that the most "we're all in it together" presidency in our lifetimes won't ask for real sacrifice, when liberals have been blathering about the need to ask for it for years.

ZING! Yes, spot on, Mr. Goldberg.

Why isn't this communist, Barack Obama, asking for everyone to sacrifice, like good socialists do? It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that EVERYONE IS FUCKING UNEMPLOYED WITH NO HEALTH INSURANCE LIVING IN TENTS UNDER THE FREEWAY, and maybe that could be considered sacrifice enough, COULD IT? Hmmmmm. No, that's not it. Maybe Obama is just a lazy gay black. Yes, that's it.

Everyone should go shopping, again, and buy flat screen televisions on their 65.9% interest rate Discover Cards, like they did after 9/11™, the end.

About Those Angry Mobs Protesting The AIG Bonuses

2009-03-24T10:34:00.000-07:00

I took them to task for being lame and missing the point (link), but Wonkette is more willing to forgive them:

Just stop all that. This is America. These people need a Simple Narrative. The most beloved show on television for the past decade has been a fucking low-rent Gong Show, with people singing karaoke. You want to explain leverage and derivatives and equity ratios and Glass-Steagall and whatever to this crowd? Good luck.

"We've Got Trash In The White House!!!1!"

2009-03-23T14:51:00.000-07:00

Here is a clinically insane woman named "Tammy Bruce," on the AM radio thing, foaming at the mouth over Michelle Obama's visit to a local D.C. school last week. If the First Lady had said something even remotely offensive or embarrassing, this Tammy monster might at least have something to work with. Of course, there's nothing at all objectionable in Mrs. Obama's words, in fact, it's all quite inspirational. Sad, really, that Tammy Bruce is out there wandering the streets, somewhere, when she should clearly be seeking mental health treatment, or a cliff to jump off of.

Ann Althouse Is Getting Married!

2009-03-22T21:25:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't know her, she's a prolific blogger and law professor living in Madison, Wisconsin. She ruffles a lot of peoples' feathers (including my own sometimes), but I've always liked her and respected her unique presence in the blogosphere.

Now, why is it a big deal that she's getting married? (Back story: she has been married once before, divorced for some time now, and has two grown sons.)

It's a big deal because...she's marrying one of the commenters from her blog!

Let there be no doubt about it: A blogger — Althouse — is engaged to be married to a man who began his connection to her as a commenter on her blog. After 4+ years of writing at each other, we met in real life and found real love.

It's fascinating in a whole Blogger Marries Commenter, Internet Romance sense, and, on a simpler, more emotional level, it's pretty much one of the most beautiful things I've seen in a long time. I say this having read Althouse for the past few years and gotten to know her, through her blog. This isn't a woman who makes impulsive, crazy decisions. That she is marrying her commenter means it must really be something special.

I'm ending this post now before I start to give the impression that I'm some sort of hopeless romantic. Congratulations to the Professor and her man.

Sire Says Original Fiction: "The Petsitter"

2009-03-22T15:34:00.000-07:00

The Petsitter
By Zachary Sire

Of all the clients, Aileen Wigglesworth had the best name. Her black cocker spaniel, Nino, was blind in one eye and mostly deaf, although he felt the vibrations of my footsteps when walking through the house and thus knew it was time for his walk. Kristina Davis was the nicest client; she treated me like family and even left dollar bills as tips taped to her dog Daisy’s leash. A single mom named Daphne Blazin had a cat, Luna, who purred too much and pooped outside of her litter box, probably on purpose. Laura-Lee Holshouser, the most neurotic of the clients, she had a Boxer named Duke locked up in a crate for the nine or ten hours she was gone at work each day, broken up by one thirty-minute walk that I was supposed to do at noon, but didn’t usually get to until after one o’clock. These, and plenty of other clients, paid Doggy Day Care (a falsely restrictive name considering we catered to cats, reptiles, and birds as well) anywhere from twenty to forty dollars per visit, depending on its length, of which I, as the company’s most requested pet sitter, received a fifty percent split.

People paid for me to feed their cats, to walk their dogs, to scrape the bottom of their cages, but never to violate their privacy. But that was my favorite part of the job, going through personal belongings, snooping, being alone in dozens of homes every day with access to hundreds of lives, some interesting and some not, and thousands of details. Insignificant details. The pay off was always in the details. I knew Laura-Lee Holshouser had lost four pounds in one week on the Jenny Craig diet, and I took great comfort in knowing that she probably felt really good about herself, and then, I felt like I knew her. And that, well, that was amazing.

I never stole. Well, not exactly. Kathy Takasuki, a Japanese woman who worked for the county elections board and owned two cats, Tiki Ti and Mr. Cooper, had several rolls of quarters behind a stack of old National Geographic magazines in the hall closet. Since she was on vacation for two weeks, I figured I could borrow a couple of rolls and have them replaced by the time she got back. I didn’t bother cashing them in at the bank and instead paid for my beers in stacks of silver, which must’ve looked pretty silly to the bartender each time I ordered from him and dug around in my pockets for twelve quarters. Still, I had a great night and a few days later my paycheck came in and Kathy’s rolls were replaced.

And I never did anything obscene or perverse. Looking in underwear drawers and medicine cabinets was not done to fulfill some voyeuristic fetish; that would’ve cheapened it. On the contrary, it was to acquire human knowledge, to become saturated in the essence of others. Finding that cache of child pornography under the ottoman in Robert Benson’s den was anything but arousing as it brought into question his marital relationship. His wife, Julie, by my best estimation, was a good woman. She was, according to the refrigerator magnets, the world’s greatest grandmother, not the spouse of a sexual deviant. But whether or not she knew of her husband’s proclivities was irrelevant as the better game became determining whether or not they even loved each other. I eventually decided that they in fact did not, which allowed me the opportunity to feel empathy for people whom I had never met.

The Benson’s, and everyone else, were like ghosts, experienced only through photographs, magazine subscriptions, CD collections, handwriting samples, and wardrobe variations. I came to know them by the quality of their wine, the smell of their cushions, the dripping of their faucets, the personalities of their pets, and the food in their cupboards. Deriving entire histories from such arbitrary domesticities was a natural talent that I had become quite proud of and quite fulfilled by. Or maybe I knew nothing at all. Maybe I had had it all wrong.

___

My mother kept a journal on the nightstand next to her bed filled with passages about old relationships and lists of goals. While most of this was entertaining, I was only interested in finding out what she thought about me. I would scan pages looking only for the word “Travis” (my name) and skip over the parts about ex-boyfriends and whatnot. My name would pop up quite a bit, but not in the way I’d liked. Apparently she didn’t think that highly of me, or at least didn’t have the inclination to speak as fondly of me as she did that Bulgarian guy she let live with us one summer. When she wrote about me, there was always an air of sadness or concern.

Travis signed up for Little League today…I hope the other boys don’t tease him. Everyone deserves a chance…

Once again, I got a note from Travis’s teacher, this time complaining about his behavior. I don’t know what to do anymore…

Dimitri was so rough with me last night…I could feel his cock in the back of my—

I hated when that happened. She had a tendency to switch topics without warning, and stumbling upon her sex life, even for a split second, was horrifying. Still, I read the journal until I turned eighteen and moved out, looking for insights I suppose, someone to say who I was and what I did, that I existed. But there weren’t any answers, only her impressions or her accounts of events.

If I had ever been caught, I suppose I might have stopped, but I never was. Not by my mother and not by the roommates I moved out with, Craig and Jeremy, either. Craig didn’t keep a journal, but he did save all the letters he received from his girlfriend. She was a horrible speller, which almost precluded me from reading her letters to him, but I kept on anyway. Come to think of it, she never said anything of any consequence, just pointless musings about how they should spend their summer and what happened at her hostess job at Chili's. I had never had a girlfriend, but if this was what it was all about, I’m not sure that I would’ve wanted one.

Jeremy didn’t have any letters in his room, but there was plenty to keep me busy. Unemployed at the time, I’d wait until he left for work in the morning before setting up shop in his bedroom. Most days consisted of me organizing his things. His closet was in total disarray: countless t-shirts halfway clinging to hangers, belts strewn about, tennis shoes plopped atop dress shoes, and at least a dozen pairs of jeans either stuffed in the corner or flung on a shelf unfolded. After spending the afternoon hanging everything in size and color coordinated order and aligning the shoes against the baseboard I would, of course, have to mess it all up again and place his belongings in their original, haphazard positions before he returned home. I counted the change in his top dresser drawer once every few weeks to see if he ever added to the stash, but in a few months it only rose from about ninety dollars in dimes, nickels, and pennies to just under one hundred. Jeremy didn’t put quarters in there.

I never got to learn what my roommates thought of me because they kicked me out after a few months for not paying my share of the rent. I doubt I would’ve found out by looking in their bedrooms, but it would be dishonest to not admit that had I continued to live there, I still would’ve looked every day.

Travis and I finally saw the doctor today. Things are looking good, I guess there’s a pill he can take…

Just as I had found Craig and Jeremy on the internet, I soon discovered Doggy Day Care. The ad said "No Experience Necessary," which fit me perfectly, so after a quick background check and a phone interview I was hired.

Their offices were out of state, and therefore all communication with clients and employees took place over e-mail and telephone. The clients were billed in advance and then sent a lockbox with instructions on where and how to secure it so the pet sitters could gain access to their homes. I’ll never forget my first one, Wanda Wilkins. Headquarters sent an e-mail asking if I was available for the visit, to which I replied yes, and then they sent back the client details:

Hi Travis! It’s Gail from Doggy Day Care. Ok, here is the info. Re: Wanda Wilkins. Give me a call if you have any questions, and good luck!

Client Info: Wanda Wilkins, 11890 Stonehill Ave. Lakewood, CA 90806

Pet Info: Two (2) Pomeranians, a boy and a girl, Max and Molly

Dry food on kitchen counter, fill bowls to brim once a day. Be sure to check their water. Max and Molly are house trained and use a doggy door to get to the patio outside, pooper scooper there for you. Jerky treats and Beggin’ Strips on top of fridge

House Info: Lockbox on front water pipe underneath the mail box. Code is 7172. Deadbolt and bottom lock key inside.

Misc: Please take in newspapers for Wanda, and please show lots of love to Max and Molly, they get very lonely without their mommy!

My fingers quivered with anticipation as I scrolled through numbers on the lockbox and glanced at my notes for the code. I had arrived thirty minutes early with a sense of urgency and responsibility. Even though no one would be there, I wanted to make a good impression, just in case a neighbor was keeping an eye on things or somehow, somebody could have seen me. The click of the lockbox startled me as two shiny keys slipped out the side and into the damp grass. I collected them and made my way for the door. As the keys were inserted and locks starting coming unlocked, I heard the sounds of shuffling feet and heavy breathing from inside; it was Max and Molly.

They greeted me in the foyer with leaps and pants and high shrieks of fanfare, nipping at my heels (in a nice way) and dripping dog drool on my already sweat covered finger tips. I shrieked back at them in the baby voice I had always heard people use when addressing their pets. “Hi Max and Molly! Well hello! Are you being good doggies? Well are you? Are you?!” They neglected to answer and instead darted for their bowls of food in the kitchen. One of them (it looked like the female) let out a light stream of pee along the way, leaving a trail of yellow liquid behind. It was pretty exciting, and I couldn’t blame her.

The Wilkins house was outrageously cluttered. Crusty dish pans beside an ironing board in the kitchen, a month’s worth of mail piled on top of an antique curio filled with Precious Moments figurines, a string of Christmas lights wrapped around a vacuum cleaner in the hallway, and chunks of feces smeared into a shaggy rug that stretched from the living room to the doggy door that Max and Molly apparently didn’t bother using. It was a house that, despite its filth, seemed to like itself. There was warmth, in a manic, unsanitary kind of way, to it that said, “Here I am, you can take me or leave me.”

And I would take it. I would discover that Wanda Wilkins was a widow with a grown daughter living in the guest room. I would find one of her sweaters in the bathroom hamper and laugh out loud at the seemingly endless alliterative possibilities while screaming to Max and Molly as they stared up at me with cocked heads and inquisitive eyes, “Wanda Wilkins wears wool!” It was supposed to be a thirty-minute visit, but I would stay in the house for nearly two hours familiarizing myself with the dirty and chaotic life of some lady who had yards and yards of bubble wrap amassed on a barstool next to the front door. And yes, I would pop a few on the way out.

___

Travis’s doctor says it might be OCD, which might explain the panic attacks, but I feel like it’s something else…

He needs to develop some friendships, some sort of connection to the outside world…

Dimiti refused to wear a condom, again, last night, and I told him I wasn’t about to fuck—

After so many recurring visits to any given client, the realization sets in that you can only learn so much about a person before there’s nothing left to learn. Sure, tracking Laura-Lee Holshouser’s weight loss on her Men From Down Under calendar had its moments, but the novelty wore off just as steadily as the amount of pounds she was losing. Four the first week, then three the next, three again, two, and then she actually gained one back. And so the excitement came when I was lucky enough to receive assignments with newly acquired clients.

Harry Maizlish was one such client, and he needed two weeks of visits that I gladly accepted. The Doggy Day Care e-mail mentioned that Harry would be on an Alaskan cruise with his wife, Diane, which sounded normal enough, but it was in fact anything but.

The Maizlish house featured a wooden ramp that obscured the front steps leading up to the porch, something for someone in a wheelchair, I reasoned. It creaked and wobbled slightly as I approached the front door where the lockbox was affixed to the knob. Upon opening the door, a draft of air from inside whooshed over my face with a mixed scent of cat litter and sterility. It was the cleanest house I had visited, no heaps or piles of things, an empty sink, made beds. The cat, Hickey, ran circles around me as I filled her water and food dishes. It was too quiet, so I started singing to her as I opened and closed the kitchen drawers only to find silverware, take-out menus, predictabilities.

The bedrooms were the same, nothing of any real interest, but the bathroom offered some hope. In the medicine cabinet were rows and rows of prescription drugs for Diane Maizlish, none of which I had ever heard of. I counted more than thirty bottles and wrote down their names to research later, thinking it outrageous that someone could ingest so much. But the pictures I saw in the hallway made sense of it. They were nearly all of Diane in various stages of what I concluded was a battle with some kind of cancer. There was the Diane with no hair, the Diane with a wig, and the Diane with a pink headscarf. She posed with other women in restaurants, doctors and nurses in a hospital room, Harry and Hickey in the backyard, and by herself, in a wheelchair, cradling a bouquet of white roses.

To anyone else, it would appear that she was smiling in each photograph, but I knew better. I had come to know people, and could tell that her smiles were insincere. It wasn’t fair, her having to be photographed at such a time. To be forced into a staged representation of happiness is inhumane, as if this was the way someone else wanted to remember her, not how she really was in the moment. I pulled the wheelchair one down from the wall and gripped the frame tightly, debating whether or not to smash the glass and remove the picture so I could destroy it. But in the glass’s reflection I caught a glimpse of me, and it struck me that it was not in my nature to be destructive. With two hands, I carefully re-hung the picture before leaving abruptly.

And the ramp outside felt like it might collapse as I stomped down it, my presence suddenly heavier.

___

On the Sunday before my 23rd birthday my mother took me to brunch at a restaurant on the water. We traded information about our day-to-day goings on, interspersed between bites of eggs and sips of champagne. We spoke of insignificant details and matters of little consequence that served only to pass time. Her car was making a clicking sound, my landlord promised new carpet. I never knew what I wanted from her, but it wasn’t this.

People would often look at me and it’d feel as if they saw right through me. And not in the way that they could see who I really was. They literally looked right through me. Even my mother did it, with her good intentions and sympathetic eyes that were especially blue that morning. She still felt like a stranger to me, as I’m sure I did to her, but we were made comfortable enough by the fact that we had been having these sorts of exchanges for as far back as my memory could go.

After downing an entire flute of champagne, she shifted in her seat and nervously put her hands out in front of her, fixated by her own skin. Her tone changed.

“Travis, how’s the medication, the side effects?”

In the seven years that I had been taking the pills she never once had asked about them.

“What?” I too downed a flute of champagne, gulping hesitantly while remembering it wasn’t good to drink on the medication.

“You heard me. The Lexapro, the Zoloft, are you still taking them?”

“Yeah, of course. What would make you ask me that?”

She put her hands on her lap, leaned back in her chair away from the table, and almost mumbled so that I couldn’t understand her, “I worry about you, Trav."

Then, she sat straight up, leaning back over the table towards me. "Everything just sort of happened in a blur when you were younger."

"Oh, god," I said.

"No really!" she smiled, firmly. "I know you had a tough time getting along with people, but you were so smart—you are smart! You kept up straight A’s, even when you were going to therapy three nights a week. Do you ever think about seeing someone again, you know, just to talk?”

“The meds work, mom. I’m fine. I have a great job, my own apartment, what’s there to talk about?” I leaned back away from the table and poured another glass.

“I don’t know. You were just always such a thoughtful kid, always looking at things in ways that nobody else your age did.”

“I know.”

“And your job, I mean, I know you love your job. But what about later on, I mean how long can you do what you’re doing? It’s gotta be sort of lonely, just driving around, feeding people’s dogs.”

“It’s so much more than that!" I said, looking around for the waitress to refill my glass. "If this pet sitting thing keeps going well, they might make me a regional manager, and that’s a huge pay raise.”

My mother sat back again and regained her composure; it appeared she was done interrogating me for the first and last time. I still didn’t know what I wanted from her, and it wasn’t this either.

An employee of the restaurant stopped us on the way out and asked us if we’d like to take a picture. We both said yes while thinking no and allowed him to capture us with a Polaroid. “That’ll be five dollars, please,” he said while shaking the picture dry.

___

A few months passed before Harry Maizlish requested another set of visits. The e-mail said he would be out of the country for a month, which meant I’d have plenty of time, too much time almost, in his house again. A postscript to the message read:

Harry wanted you to know that he has installed cameras all over the house, just to keep an eye on things.

It didn’t seem fair. I had done nothing to betray his trust. The house had been shown the utmost respect, all things were put back in their place, and he had no reason to become suspicious. I accepted the visits only to prove that he had nothing to worry about. Besides, I had already seen what I needed. Let him try and tempt me with his fancy cameras.

The first thing I noticed was that the wheelchair ramp had been removed. Above the front door was a miniature camera; I was already being watched. Of course, it occurred to me that he couldn’t have been watching everything from out of the country. Maybe he would review the tapes upon his return. Maybe he would make popcorn with Diane and watch me scoop the litter box. The premise of his fascination was repellent, as if anything I ever did in anyone’s house was worthy of review.

And so I put on a performance, prancing around the house and speaking with sweet intonation to Hickey, as if she were a long lost friend. It was unclear whether or not the cameras captured audio as well, but I had to assume they did. The floors were covered with wires that crept up the walls and led to more cameras hanging above the kitchen sink, the bathroom door, and the hallway of photographs still displaying Diane’s lifeless face.

The house was now unusually cluttered with papers and books and pamphlets, stacks of them on the kitchen counter and dining room table. They screamed to be read, or at least glanced at, but it couldn’t be done. Hickey conveniently distracted me by crying out for food while brushing up against my leg. In the refrigerator was a can of wet food that I dumped into her bowl.

The papers and books and pamphlets, my god there must have been thousands of pages with scribbled notes and post-its and highlighted lines of words, were well within sight of the kitchen camera that panned back and forth at a speed too fast to outsmart. Harry Maizlish was one cruel son-of-a-bitch.

Returning to the refrigerator, I went for Hickey’s special milk and noticed a letter under a photo magnet of Harry on a cruise ship. It wouldn’t be hard to read it if I could make it seem as if I were reading the milk label instead. So with the milk carton strategically in front of me and the letter behind it, I read:

Dearest Diane,

I did as you asked and took the Alaskan cruise. The captain had no problem with my request, and I scattered your ashes at sunrise just as you wished for. Your time on this Earth was over too soon, but I know now that you are always with me.

I met a man on the ship, a Guru named Banta Singh, who told me all about you. Next week, I am going to France to learn more about his ways, and how I can learn more about your new place in my life. Thank you for never leaving me, and I can’t wait to hopefully catch a glimpse of you when I return. Please don’t think the surveillance is my way of trying to undermine you…I only want to see you again.

Your Loving Husband,
Harry

The camera hummed, its red eye capturing me and whatever else it saw. Everything I had done, with or without a camera present, in every house, was not worthy of review. And the thought of it, the idea, the preposterous notion that nothing had been in private, overwhelmed me with remorse and yet unexpected fulfillment. I started putting events in sequence in a sort of a-ha, revelatory, gotcha denouement often used to end a bad movie or an episode of Scooby Doo.

That upon my first visit to the house, Diane had already been dead. That she had been watching me all along, and that if she was watching me, she was presumably tuned in to my inner thoughts (because if there was such a thing as ghosts, it would be safe to assume they could perceive anything). That I was all of a sudden a believer in ghosts. That I had been violated. That if it were possible here, it was possible everywhere. That it was possible in every house. That it was funny how I had always wanted to be seen but the only thing that saw me was something that no one else could see. Except for now. The cameras.

I stepped cautiously away from the letter, barely maintaining my breath and incessantly swallowing. Fuck it, I thought, and rifled through the papers on the table. Titles that read “Paranormal Activity in the 21st Century” and “Loss: It’s Not What You Think” and “Are We Really Alone?” fluttered through my fingertips as the camera watched me, as the house and all of its things watched me. And I had always wanted someone to be able to say who I was and what I did, that I had existed.

Doggy Day Care, after receiving a scathing phone call from Harry Maizlish, fired me a few weeks later. There was a lawsuit, but I never responded to any of the summonses or phone calls. I did my best to just disappear.

Deep Thoughts

2009-03-21T22:45:00.000-07:00

I

Need

To

Stop

Reading

Things

On

The

Internet.

Why Am I Not Surprised?

2009-03-21T19:12:00.000-07:00

Celeste, via the Sac Bee, is reporting that Quest Diagnostics, one of California's biggest diagnostic labs (a.k.a. where you get your blood work done), has defrauded the state by billing Medi-Cal up to 500 percent more for tests than it billed other patients. Lovely. Our AG, Jerry Brown, is suing:

Attorney General Jerry Brown will unveil details of the complex case, outlined in a 41-page civil complaint filed under the California False Claims Act, at a morning news conference today in Los Angeles.

The defendants include the two largest diagnostic lab companies in the United States: Quest Diagnostics Inc., which has 500 facilities in California, and Labcorp, which has more than $3 billion in annual revenue. The firms, which have had trouble with the state in the past over billing issues, could not be reached for comment.

The fraud allegations were first made by lab industry whistleblower Chris Reidel and Hunter Laboratories of Campbell in November 2005 and remained sealed until recently, San Mateo Superior Court records show.

[...]

The state and the whistle-blowers said they have records showing that Quest charges Medi-Cal $8.59 each for the most frequently ordered blood test – an automated hemogram. Quest charged other clients as little as $1.42 for the same test, court records state.

I feel so comforted to know that I've allowed these motherfuckers to stick needles in my arm.

You know, these whores have seen a lot of me over the past couple of months as I've been going in there to drop off all sorts of things—urine, blood, saliva, you name it. They all seemed kind of shifty, if not overworked and unhappy to be there.

The first time I go in, the phlebotomist reads the prescription from my doctor and then casually, while gripping the syringe that is sucking my blood into a tube, he tells me, "Hey man, if you end up testing positive for Hep C, they've got some kick ass supplements at the vitamin store next to the Burger King down the street."

"Uh, okay...?" I say, as if, assuming I do have hepatitis (I don't), I would follow his advice by seeking treatment at, what, a GNC?

"I've been taking a gang of 'em, for my own Hep C, and they really help," the guy says as he slips the needle out of my arm and then moves in to apply a piece of gauze and tape where he stuck me.

"OH I'LL GET THAT," I say, intercepting the materials from this deadly disease carrying man who just stuck me with a needle. I flip the gauze upside down from where his fingers had touched it (as if this will help) so that I place the untouched side onto the poke mark on my inner arm. Yes, the dude is wearing gloves, but give me a fucking break.

If you're in California, avoid Quest for your blood work. You'd be safer having a Tijuana hooker take your blood with a butter knife and her god damned teeth.

Here's hoping they get sued for all they're worth and go bankrupt, the end.

New Depeche Mode!

2009-03-21T12:12:00.000-07:00

It's not good.

Keep in mind that this is just a 5-song promo (the whole thing hasn't leaked yet), but of those five songs, not one is good. In fact, you might say that they are all horrible. This is a terribly difficult thing for me to admit, but when it's bad, it's bad, and not even one of my favorite bands of all time gets a pass. If the other songs on the forthcoming album don't compensate, I fear we'll be looking at the biggest disappointment of the year, and their worst album ever. Yikes.

Still, the video for lead single "Wrong" is very good, in a creepy, WTF kind of way. It almost makes me like the song.