Good Riddance To Rotten Rubbish

Susan Atkins is dead.

Good. I hope it was painful. She’s a rare case where redemption and forgiveness was never an option in life and mercy or compassion are completely undeserved upon her death. I don’t care who she leaves behind or any of the phoney charity work she did for when she made appearances before the parole board. At one point during her sentence, she tried to claim she’d never picked up a weapon in her life, when in truth, the only reason she and the other creepazoid Mansonites got caught was because she bragged, in detail, about what she had done to cellmates when she was imprisoned for a different crime. She’s left behind nothing but a legacy of death and terror. It wasn’t just the people she killed. An entire city went into a panic for months because of what her and her cronies did over the course of two August nights in 1969. She laughed her way through her trial as if she were skipping rope in a school yard, in a manner so gruesome, you can’t even write it off as youthful stupidity. Her behavior was monstrous and her subsequent actions in the years that followed never suggested a person who accepted responsibility, except in the hollow words spoon-fed by attornies trying to fool everyone into giving her the life she robbed from others.

Rot in Hell, Atkins. To quote the woman herself, in the final words Sharon Tate probably heard before taking her last breath, I have no mercy for you, bitch.

We Ain’t Come From No Monkeys

I’m getting a little peeved at the number of articles I’ve read in the last week arguing that the film Darwin failing to secure a distributor at the Toronto Film Festival is proof in the puddin’ that Americans are all incurably sick with a case of teh spooky backwards stoopids. Not one of those articles have even entertained another possibility that might explain the lack of interest: the movie is a boring, crappy period drama that nobody anticipates people paying money to watch in theaters.

I haven’t seen it, so I can’t say either way. If it were a good movie otherwise and fear of the Christian right was the reason distributors were wary of picking up the film, surely there would be, at the very least, interest in limited releases in godless urban centers like New York and Los Angeles. Controversial films about religion come out in the US all the time. Sure, there are always a pack of morons who show up with picket signs and moan about it, but all that generally amounts to is a load of free publicity. Distributors like controversy. They court it. If anything, the potential for it would encourage the investment.

I’ve spent most of my life on “the left coast,” so it’s not like I’ve got my finger on the pulse of middle America and could guess how folks there would react to a movie about Charles Darwin. I do, however, doubt the reason that distributors are passing on a film about his life and work is because they worry armies of staunch Christian creationists will show up outside their doors with torches and pitchforks in the dark of night.

I do have to say, there’s something wildly amusing about foreigners decrying Americans as superstitious and backwardly religious to an ignorant fault, while basing their arguments on ignorance of their own that relies on little more than false, bigotted assumptions and stereotypes. Then again, what do I know? I’m an American. I don’t get irony, or so I’ve been told.

Bish, Please

Kanye West should be banned from awards shows? Give me a break. Does anyone really believe that the producers of these things don’t absolutely love it when crap like this happens? It’s not like West doesn’t have a well documented history of showing up at ceremonies and acting like a douche. As if everyone would be standing around the water cooler talking about how awesome it was when Taylor Swift thanked Jesus in her acceptance speech if that hadn’t happened. The VMAs would have been an otherwise uneventful show if West hadn’t done what he did. Was he a dick? You bet. Should he be banned from awards shows forever? Only if the producers aren’t interested in the ratings.

It’s A Big, Blue Watery Road

Of the 33 million-plus views for this video on Youtube, I’m pretty sure I’m responsible for about 10 million of them in the last 48 hours at least. I can’t decide if it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen or the funniest.

First off, I now have a giant, girlie crush on Andy Samberg. What an idiot. I LOVE him.

*”Get your towels ready; it’s about to go down.”

*Akiva Schaffer at the 1:04 mark, arms flung out in the wind because he’s on a boat, muthafucka.

*”Get the fuck up. This boat is REAL.”

*”I’m on a boat, muthafucka. Don’t you ever forget.” Okay. I promise I won’t, being that it’s such a big deal and all.

*The shot of T-Pain at the 2:32 mark, with the helicopter hovering by in slow motion. The mock seriousness of it all is so funny, it’s PAINFUL.

Coming up later, a critical, moment-by-moment analysis of the social and intellectual merits of “Jizz In My Pants.”

I cannot get enough of these guys.

Why I’ve Come To Loathe Politics And The People Who Talk About Them

Just last week, left-leaning people were pissing on the still-warm body of Robert Novak following his death. They justified it on the grounds that he wasn’t a good person in life (no comment) and deserved no remorse or toughtful consideration once it was over. I didn’t look, but I’m certain at least one right wing blogger pointed to this in outrage as proof that the evul libruls were evul and more evul and stuff because they said bad shit about a dead guy.

The proof of hypocirisy comes today from both sides, as people on the right dance on the grave of Senator Edward Kennedy, justifying it on the grounds that he wasn’t a good person in life (no comment) and deserved no…blah, blah, blah. Cue the left chiming in with outrage at the heartlessness of such a response.

Partisan douchebags with double standards. Suck it, bitches.

The one thing I will say is this – guys? The Chappaquiddick jokes, especially on today of all days, are not funny anymore. Like people who think that it’s hilarious to quote forty-year-old Monty Python skits that we’ve all seen a billion times, it’s just fucking old. Steal a new act already.

“CNN? I’ve Got Irony On Line One…”

I love the innernets. Here’s a story on CNN with a bunch of supposed media experts and analysts claiming that the over-abundance of reporting on worthless idiots like Jon and Kate and Ochomom (whatever) is merely catering to public appetites. The hundreds of comments that follow are nothing but one remark after another of people basically saying “enough already. We don’t care about these morons. Stop writing about them. We’d like nothing more than for them to go away.” Seriously, if you can find one positive comment defending the media being saturated with stories about these stupid gits, you’ve a keener eye than I do.

I’ve always said that I hate reality television, but I’m not a snob about it. If people like it, good for them. They can have it. But now that the subjects of those shows have begun slipping into the mainstream media – and I don’t just mean the entertainment media, I mean what is supposed to be hard news – I’m starting to lose my patience. It is, however, comforting to see from that article that it’s not a dumb public eating up this useless garbage. It’s a media cramming something down our throats that we couldn’t care less about.

A Testimonial To The Useless Stupidity of Motivational Posters

Last week, a co-worker and I decided to order four of those “demotivators” from despair.com. If you haven’t seen them, check them out. They’re hilarious (“Individuality: Always remember you are unique. Just like everybody else.”). We hung them up yesterday morning and, so far, about two people walking through the halls have even noticed that they were a joke (for the record, we ordered this, this, this and this). One guy told me his boss had been hounding them lately and he was sure he had ordered them to encourage the staff. He hadn’t even bothered to read them at first. Let this be a lesson to anyone who thinks those lame-ass motivational posters actually do a lick of good. Nobody reads the stupid things. Nobody is inspired by pictures of guys on mountain tops with captions celebrating achievement. They just walk by and glance no more than they would a cheap landscape painting. Don’t waste your money. Your intentions are better invested elsewhere.

How To Get A Woman To Kill You (At Least This One)

I guess that e-How site is like Wikipedia; any jackass with a computer that can find letters on a keyboard is allowed to provide content, regardless of how much they actually know.

So. Someone directed me to this doozy a few weeks ago and the stupid is still making smoke come out of my ears. I’ll skip over the “don’t put too many details into her empty little head. She can’t possibly juggle the idea of three forwards, two defensemen and a goalie while remembering the little rubber thingie is called a ‘puck’” crap and get to the bulleted “advice.”

How To Get A Woman To Love Hockey

Show your girl attention. Ask her if she is enjoying the game. Don’t ignore her.

Not a bad start, but as a rule of thumb, guys should be that way on any date, whether it’s a sporting event or not. However, you should probably exhibit said attention in between periods. Otherwise, you’re basically talking during the movie. That’s a no-no.

Get a program and show her some of the players. Women love a man “in the know.”

You know what they love even more? Being “in the know” on their own. Even so, this is not necessarily always true. I wouldn’t particularly care to be on a date with a man who was “in the know” about how to disembowel a human body and dispose of it without leaving any evidence behind.

Offer to buy her a team logo blanket to share during the game. You can enjoy snuggling together. You will definitely score points practicing this tip.

Okay, boys. Listen up. Do not try to snuggle with me during a hockey game. Ever. I will kill you. And I don’t mean that in the “wink-wink, I’ll kill ya, buddy!” 12 Angry Men sense of the word. I mean I will grab the nearest heavy object and bludgeon you to death with it in plain view.

Show her the game souvenirs and buy her some of those cute team earrings. She will love you for that.

Ugh. Team jewelry is tacky. I would appreciate the gesture, but think of those things as the ugly sweater your Grandma knitted for you that you only wear when she visits.

Give her spending money so she can partake of all those delicious foods offered at the concessions while you watch the ice babes at the end of the quarter.

Forget the idea that most women today have their own damn spending money or that not all teams have “ice babes,” for JEBUS’ FUCKING SAKE HOCKEY IS NOT PLAYED IN QUARTERS. Sorry, it was stupid enough to shout.

Kiss her every time your team scores.

See above on snuggling.

Share with her some of your favorite “insults” that you enjoy throwing out at the game.

Just try not to do it when she’s hurdling them herself. It’s rude to interrupt a person when they’re calling someone a douchebag fucktard with his skates on backwards.

Give her a camera to use during the game. Tell her you would love to have pictures of your time together. (This will keep her busy forever!)

Consider the possibility that she might have already brought her own camera and that actually watching the game might be keeping her too busy to make like she’s Diane Fucking Arbus.

Let her use your binoculars. So what if you are down front near the ice. She can use them to “people watch.” Warning: Take them away if you find she is spending too much time using them on the players and smiling.

Or she can smash them over your head because you’re an idiot for thinking she wants to watch any people other than the men playing the game. No need to take them away for ogling the players. They are in baggy-ass hockey gear and wearing helmets. There’s nothing drool-worthy out there.

Teach her the team chants. She will feel important and useful.

Why?

Buy her drinks. She will surely enjoy the game after more than one toddy. If she decides she wants to go down on the ice and skate with the players, it is time to cut her off!

Yes, imagining that your shoes have magically turned into ice skates probably means that you’ve had enough.

Thank her for coming the game with you and tell her how much more exciting it is with her there.

O_o Um, what?

Show her understanding and don’t laugh at her when she cries over the player who cracks open his skull open on the ice and has to be carried out on a stretcher. She has a sensitive side.

Frigging hell, women aren’t completely emotionally stunted wimps, you know. Even with a sensitive side, we know how to avert our eyes to avoid seeing unpleasant injuries, even when we’re watching on TV and they insist on replaying them over and over and over and over.

Hold her hand on occasion and let her know how nice it is to have her right beside you watching your “dream team” together.

Oh, just fuck off.

Teach her how to pass a hot dog down 3 rows across 10 people victoriously.

I think most women have learned how to pass hot dogs by the time they reach adulthood. Condescend much?

Don’t go “gaga” over the ice babes at half time. (Only when she is in the restroom)

Especially since “half time” at a hockey game occurs ten minutes into the second period (barring shoot-out/overtime). The only “babes” on the ice are the players. Go “gaga” over them and she might think you’re gay or something.

Don’t drink too much and don’t spill your food all over her.

Apply this rule to the whole of your life, not just a hockey game.

Keep your opposing fan slurs to a bare minimum because she still thinks you never use words like that in public.

She does?

Make sure your girl is warmly dressed. The ice arena can be cold and too much snuggling will hinder your game enthusiasm.

Again with the fucking snuggling…

Don’t tell her you once saw a hockey game, where one of the players was hit in the face point-blank by a hockey puck and they literally picked his teeth up off the ice afterwards or that he returned to the game with a mouth full of packing and a frozen face, and proceeded to play another regular period followed by two 20-minute overtime periods, and a bit of a third. Women just don’t understand the best part of the game.

That’s it. I’m finding the person who wrote this and stabbing them.

When the game is over, give her a great big hug and tell her you can’t wait for her to join you at the next game. If she want to know if she can wear that adorable red and white outfit that she thinks will match your team’s colors, make sure you oblige her by saying, “I can’t imagine anything that would look better!” Your real thought being, “except the time you saw an opposing player’s collarbone break when he is slammed into a goalpost or when your favorite player crushed his right hand when he used it to break his fall after beingcross-checked from behind.”

Make that “stabbing them twice.”

Go home and thank God for a great evening. Most important, pray they have hockey in heaven!

The only way there is no hockey in heaven is if there is no such thing as heaven.

How’s about this for some advice on how to get your girlfriend to like hockey: watch it with her. If she doesn’t take an interest on her own, either find a girl who does or accept having separate hobbies. It’s a lot easier and she won’t find you to be a patronizing asshole who thinks she’s too dumb to understand something as simple as a game.

Batshit Crazy Lady To Be Set Free After 34 Years

Ah, they’re letting Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme go. I think we’ll all sleep better at night knowing she’s free to threaten people with death for not loving animals and trees as much as she thinks we should. Other than the mention of her release, there’s nothing new in the article, but this is the Squeaky quote that stood out the most for me:

“Well, you know, when people treat you like a child and pay no attention to the things you say, you have to do something.”

Such as point a gun at the President. There were clearly no other options, like going to a Greenpeace meeting or some shit like that.

Being the public service venture this blog aims to be, I thought that, along with musings about hockey and posts regarding Joe Orton’s habit of having sex with strange men in British public restrooms, I would prepare a simple guide on how to get people to not treat you like a child. I do so with our dear friend Squeaky in mind.

How To Get People To Not Treat You Like A Child

*Do not spend your youth on a commune co-habitating with people who like to pick houses in Los Angeles suburbs at random and stab the occupants therein 28 times each.

*While said people are being tried for their crimes, do not shave off your hair, carve an “X” into your forehead and issue cryptic, if not completely incoherent, statements to the press.

*When speaking of the victims of these crimes, refrain from using phrases like “the fucking pigs deserved it.”

*On the same subject, appearing in a video singing lyrics from the Beatles’ “Baby, You’re A Rich Man” while grinning widely and brandishing weapons (“how does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?”) is probably not a good idea. Maybe it’s just me, but you look like a bleeping lunatic when you do.

*Most human beings find the idea of murdering innocent people sort of appalling. This is important to keep in mind in social settings. Behavior such as gouging party guests in their bellies with flatware – even when their wounds are not mortal – is generally frowned upon.

*Don’t point a gun at the President of the United States, whether it is loaded or not. The Secret Service is totally serious when it comes to that “don’t even joke about it” shit, as our friend Squeaky learned the hard way.

I hope this helps Ms. Fromme in her future endeavors, should she wish to have others not treat her like a child. If not, I’m afraid she’s doomed for a life of irrelevance and people thinking “now, that’s one crazy bitch.”

O_o

This is so many different kinds of wrong I couldn’t name them all in a lifetime, even if I wasn’t speechless.

I mean, really. WTF?