I'm thinking of going Goth

I’ve finally decided I need an avatar. That’s right. I am finally embracing my interweb geekyness. For those of you who don’t know what an avatar is: An avatar, placed next to my posts, is a picture that represents me. A lot of thought must to go into this. Choosing an Avatar is a lot like choosing a tattoo. It’s a highly personal expression of one’s self. Like a colorful dragon or a naked woman who's private parts are covered by your armpit hair and appears to dance when you flex.

Using business lingo: I accept my paradigm-monkeying, synergy-strategising, cross-platform, aspiration statement and have decided to choose an avatar. I have narrowed my choices to:


Batman slugging the shark: (BSTS) Originally from the movie, "Batman" starring Adam West, the greatest actor of his generation, it features Batman beating a shark from his leg while hanging from a helicopter. It touches the jejune nature of our existence, the banality of our every day lives and the need to get this motherf*cking shark off my motherf*cking leg! For those of you who didn’t know, BSTS was the inspiration behind the blockbuster Hollywood mega-movie, Snakes on a Plane. Originally it was Sharks on a Plane. Before that it was Sharks on a Helicopter.


Hammer time: Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Oh, and next time you decide to employ 35 dancers and musicians for each show, you might want to look at how much the gig is paying. But Hammer did it right! I plan on meeting my death bankrupt, in debt, and being chased by Guido the killer pimp. As Dewey Cox said, "I want a whole army of digery-doos" for this track. I’m pretty sure he meant the soundtrack of our lives. Hammer speaks to my need to put on a good show before I leave the stage.


Goth Dance is a favorite. This is a clip from South Park. Goth always makes me laugh. It says, we’re different so we’re all going to act the same. By why choose morose? If you’re going to act the same choose something like, ‘60's flower children,’ and act unnaturally happy. If the ultimate goal is to freak out your parents, make them think you’re tripping balls all day; that will get a reaction.

also,

As this never ending demented winter consumes my soul, everyday I think of turning Goth. I’m a white, 46yr old fat guy who drives a Volvo. Goth may be my only choice now. I feel the need to dye my hair black, leaving my bangs unusually long so I have to flip the hair from my eyes when I speak. I’ll guess I’ll also need some tattoos, a Prince Albert and some nipple studs. (I can’t wait to go thru Airport screening with a Prince Albert.) But I’m willing to go for it, if, at the end of this journey of transformation, I can find a hot Goth chick who will drone on-and-on about the inequities of life and how horrid our parents are. That turns me on.

Dark Helmet was the first Goth. He knew how to bring it, which leads me to:


In this clip from Spaceballs, Dark Helmet is watching the movie of Spaceballs while the movie is being filmed. That’s the way I feel all the time. Stop looking at my movie. Wait, you’re in my movie. Okay, you can be part of the Tommy Korioth experience, but only while I’m in it. And you can’t watch me go Goth. Okay, you can watch me go Goth, but you have to get a Prince Albert. I’ll be taking Sentanyl and Versed - the time travel drugs, for the procedure. You must get yours cold sober.


This one is called The Flying Hand. I don’t know where its from or what it means, but this avatar speaks to me. It says, we are all television heads, and someday, a flying hand will come out of nowhere to turn us off, and then we’ll explode at the bottom of a quarry into a cheap special effect. What better way to describe life?

It also says that someone wrote this. Someone actually sat down at a typewriter and scripted a giant hand slapping T.V. head and then blowing up. WTF? And they say LSD is dead. I want that job. No, wait, . . . I am that job. Someone get me some LSD.



Horropher is an interweb favorite. It’s been used too much, but it still has its charm. It says, Hey, don’t you dare!



Janet Jackson’s boob is another favorite. If you can't see the clip I've included it's because photobucket has already censored it. Who would of thought one highly decorated nipple could do so much damage. And don’t they understand it was a wardrobe malfunction?!?!? It was an accident! Why would they think, for one second, that she meant for her adorned nipple to make such a spectacular debut? If the wardrobe malfunction wasn’t a malfunction, that means it was a conspiracy. And that means JFK was shot from the grassy knoll. It means the Flying Hand clip wasn’t scripted and the LSD I took ten minutes ago is taking effect. Long Live the Night Ninjas!

I need your help. I have placed a poll next to this article so we can all vote on my new avatar. Do it for Jesus. Be aware: if you choose Goth, I go Goth. If you choose Batman, I am Batman, and if you choose Janet Jackson’s boob, I’ll wear that nipple jewelry. If you choose Spaceballs I will wear a dark helmet and constantly ask everyone why they are in my movie.

Also,

I came across this tiny piece of info in the interweb. If you feel like screwing with someone on the phone, this is the phone number of those religious nuts that protest soldiers funerals by carrying signs that say, "God Hates Fags." Maybe you should give them a call and just say hi.
Westboro Baptist Church
3701 SW 12th St
Topeka, KS 66604
(785) 273-0325

Racism in Texas

I wanted to write about race after watching Shelby Steele on Bill Moyers’ Journal. He impressed me with his take on the subject. Paraphrasing; he said that neither blacks or whites are honest with one another. As a white guy who burns easily I took that as a challenge, so here I am being honest.

The problem, Steele said, is that "we mistakenly defined inequality in America as racism and injustice when it was in fact underdevelopment." I couldn’t agree more.

Steele went on to describe how blacks like Obama must put on a mask, giving the white man the benefit of the doubt. Obama, who comes from a mixed marriage, assumes that not every white man is racist. Other black Americans feel slighted by this attitude. Black leaders like Al Sharpton come from the opposite point of view.

Racism in Texas

When I was thirteen and just starting to question my father about racism, he did a smart thing. He said, "If I was a black man in the 1950's I would have taken a shotgun and killed every white man I could find." It was a powerful statement. He left it hanging. He didn’t explain it. Why? What happened? It had the desired effect. The next weekend I went to the library to find out for myself about white men in the ‘50's.

I’d like to say I spent the next few weeks reading about the atrocities committed against the black man in this country. I got the general idea after just a few hours and my real education on the subject wasn’t until many years later. At the time I couldn’t get past the pictures. I returned to my father and we shared the notion that black men in the ‘50's displayed incredible restraint or a remarkable lack of firearms. Either way, my new reality stuck.

Texas Municipal League (TML)

Texas has 254 counties and I’m not sure how many small towns. The 2002 census puts the Texas population just over 21 million. Population of the major metropolitan areas (Dallas, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, El Paso) is around 15 million. That leaves 6 million rural Texans.

By the 1970's most of the large municipalities had enough money to self insure. The rest of Texas was relegated to private insurance. Premiums were much higher for the hundreds of smaller counties and municipalities that were struggling to survive. My father, along with a cadre of other good liberals, help to create the Texas Municipal League; a self insurance fund. By pooling premiums, small municipalities could self insure each other. For the first time small towns and counties of Texas had a much cheaper insurance alternative. For many of them, it was the first time they even had insurance.

My father went on to become chief counsel and main lobbyist for TML, giving me an unique insight into Texas and racism.

In 1974 I was thirteen when my father took me to Bastrop (just south of Austin) for a workers’ compensation lawsuit. He represented a black man who had been hurt on the job when a flat bed pick-up had lost its brakes, rolled down a small incline, and pulverizing his legs between the bumper and a brick wall. He couldn’t walk after that, but he didn’t lose his legs. By Texas law if he had lost both legs he would been eligible to receive more benefits. The trial was straightforward. Medical testimony clearly demonstrated total loss of use of his legs. He would never walk again. Over 20 men saw the accident, and the jury came back with nothing. He was a black man in Bastrop country. He was shit out of luck.

[ The good news is the appellate court later overturned the verdict and the man eventually got his money. ]

It was my first direct encounter with real racism. Assholes. Obviously I had heard schoolmates say the n-word and even seen a few adults use the epithet in hate filled rants. But those instances were rare and had no consequence. This verdict hurt. This was real racism.

TML came on-line full force in the 1980's, and I saw first hand what that meant. I can’t write about specific cases that would come across my father’s desk. Even though he has since passed, as an employee in his law firm I am bound by the same confidentiality my father was. So, hypothetically:

Let’s say an ambulance driver in B.F. Texas decides he hates blacks so much he isn’t going to offer service to ‘that part of town’ anymore. (Most small town and country ambulance service was provided on a contract basis by individuals.) Inevitably, a lawsuit would arise. "My husband was dying; why didn’t the ambulance come?" Juries began awarding large sums of TML insurance money to those that suffered at the hands of this kind of racism.

What was TML’s response? They did what any other insurance carrier would do. They told the counties or town that they were raising their rates. When the country commissioners realized they were paying 400 k a year for an ambulance that didn’t pick up blacks they fired him and the insurance rates went back down.

Same thing happened to those racist cops that filled rural Texas. Traditionally Sheriff cracker Billy-Bob redneck would go about his job kicking the shit out of blacks just to "keep them in their place." And then something unusual began happening. Inevitably the Sheriff would be sued for violating someone’s civil rights. Juries began returning huge monetary awards for the victims. County Commissioners were surprised to see their rate rise back to pre-1970's levels. They were losing large money by employing racist cops.

They were not quick to change. Small counties and towns were still run by Billy-Bob redneck’s brother, the Sheriff, and they weren’t going to let some insurance company tell them how to treat their ‘nigras.’ Eventually they almost always came back to TML (after firing the Sheriff.) Money seems to make its own morality.

It was the jury awards that spurred the change. Racism had changed in Texas. It may have still been acceptable to deny monetary recompense in civil cases, but direct violence was regarded as out-of-line. Cops couldn’t just go kick the crap out of blacks, just because. Law officers responded the only way they could, they began a DWB.(Driving While Black) harassment policy, but that’s another story.

Big City Racism v. Rural Racism

When a big city cop kills anyone there are repercussions. The black community rightfully protects their own and raises a stink. Jury awards for civil rights violations in cities are much higher than in rural Texas. The big cities had to fall in line quickly. Racism could never be policy in Houston so many cops went underground with it. And still, juries continued to level huge awards against racist cops when they were exposed. The no racism policy was forced to be proactive. Racism wasn’t to be tolerated. (But only because of the loss of money.)

I think it’s important to define what kind of racists there are. Not all racist are the same. Clearly visible on the far right is the KKK. I’d like to refer to these "Christians" as 1st class racists. I have a hard time convincing myself to mow the lawn. These knuckleheads actually hate enough to be proactive about their racism. These guys hate so much they feel inspired to join a club so they can hate in peace. You don’t see that too much in the major metro areas.

The Spectrum of Racism

1st Class racists can be defined as the ones that endorse lynchings. You don’t have to go further than the Texas Minutemen along the border to find these knuckleheads. Currently the lynchers seem more proactive against the Mexicans.

The KKK still exists in rural Texas. Six Klan members showed up in Austin to protest a few years back. Three thousand Austinites showed up to protest that protest. Racism is still alive and well, but the bulk of the Billy-bob rednecks have been relegated to rural Texas. Big city racism is a different animal.

2nd Class racist seems more confined to the belligerent Billy Bob rednecks. I have no doubt they hate blacks, Mexicans and gays, but if they find their way into a jury they have reservations about direct violence. - thus the huge civil awards.

3rd Class racist - there is no third class. There may be a huge population of Texans that don’t like African Americans but they understand the difference between disdain and hate. The racist moniker is too heavy to carry. Haters on a jury are likely to award recompense against unfair hiring policies or outright racism. He/she wouldn’t want to be identified as racist in front of the other jury members, and more often than not, being treated unfairly can happen to anyone. Haters are often the victim of unfair hiring practices. No one likes them.

And then you have the rest of us. The ones that are most upset when we can’t find the remote. The ones that find it hard to show up at work on time. The non-haters. Those that believe in equality. Which leads me to this story.

Accused of racism

Me? A racist? I was dumbstruck.

It was almost exactly ten years ago. I was walking my dog thru my mostly upper middle class neighborhood here in Austin. It was mid-July, well over 100 degrees. The only people I had seen were those passing me in their air conditioned cars.

The accusation came swift and pronounced. A black man who had been raking leaves walked deliberately up to me and my dog, yelling in full passion. "You racist mother f*cker! You racist mother f*cker!" A lot of what he said, he said twice. "What are you afraid of!?! What are you afraid of?!?"

"What?"

"I’m just a man. A working man! Did you think I was gonna’ rob ya? I’m a workin’ man! I’m a workin’ man!"

"What?"

"What? Is that all you have to say? You won’t even walk on the same side of the street as a black man? What? What mother f*cker?"

The man went on to describe my f*cked up values and then told me to f*ck off before he went back to work on his lawn.

As I sulked away I realized that I had indeed crossed the street when I reached his lawn. No wonder he got pissed off. I had walked up to his lawn, took a 90 degree turn, crossed the street, and then crossed back when I passed his house.
What the guy didn’t know: I was f*cked out of my mind. A musician friend of mine was staying with me and had introduced me to some super powerful Willie weed and his fresh supply of Psilocybin - (Magic Mushrooms). I was tripping balls. There was an unusual water sprinkler in the yard across the street. At the time, I had it in my mind that that sprinkler was, in fact, a monkey. The thin black hose retreating from the sprinkler was a rope that kept that monkey in the yard. You can’t pass up a lawn monkey. I had pulled my dog in tight because I didn’t want her to get bit. When I saw that the monkey was a sprinkler I walked back across the street, embarrassed from the mistake.

Looking back on it, I can’t blame the guy. He came from the ‘don’t trust whitey’ school of thought. His racism radar didn’t have to be fully operational to interpret my behavior as something unusual.

Be careful what you look for; that’s who you are

If you’re looking for racism, it’s out there. It’s not difficult to find. If you believe that whitey is looking to hurt you, that’s what you’ll find. If you are a cracker barrel, Billy-Bob redneck, and you spend your time hating African Americans, I have little doubt you will be able to find some black guy acting the fool or breaking the law, justifying your hate. If you hate homosexuals it’s not difficult to find a gay guy doing something outrageous; justification achieved.

Conversely,

Just because you’re black doesn’t mean you can’t be an asshole. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t be a jerk. Being white doesn’t automatically mean you’re a rich asshole. - most of the time. You don't have to be black to be livin' like a slave. You just have to be poor.

Racism today is more like the racism from R. Lee Ermey as Gunnery Sergeant Hartman in the movie Full Metal Jacket.

Sergeant Hartman: "There is no racial bigotry here. We do not look down on niggers, kikes, wop or greasers, because here you are all equally worthless. Do you understand?"

Racism has been downgraded to hate and relegated to a wide open swath. It’s less about racism and more about hate.

And we all know that hate for hate sake is just stupid. He hates those cans!

Con Games and Jesus

So here’s how it works. I am the captain of the airplane. First class tickets are a grand a piece but once you own those seats you get to sell other first class tickets, keeping $500 for yourself and paying your captain $500. You sell two seats behind you and you’ve already broken even. When the people you’ve sold those seats to go on to sell seats of their own, you get a forth of their sales - $250 - and your captain gets $250. You receive even more money when those people go on to sell seats of their own. Your cut rises dramatically if you go on to sell more $1000 first class seats. As more and more passengers fill our plane your financial security will be assured. Do the math yourself. Within just a few generations we can all be millionaires on Tommy’s plane ride to wealth.

Flim-flam men, hucksters, con men, grifters, thimbleriggers, and preachers, it’s one of my favorite subjects. If you like Confidence games, check out my blog entry:

http://fluffer-union.blogspot.com/2007/11/good-con-man-is-not-hard-to-find.html

Senator Charles Grassley (R-Iowa) is probing six ministries led by Paula White, Joyce Meyer, Creflo Dollar, Eddie Long, Kenneth Copeland, and Benny Hinn.

Oh, Benny, Benny, Benny, what have you done now? Grassley’s finance committee has demanded their financial records and none of these ministries have yet to produce anything to the committee.

Pam’s House Blend picked up the story. . .
http://www.pamshouseblend.com/showDiary.do?diaryId=4256

This story has everything. I love this story. It has tweaked my schadenfreuden guru. I can't wait to see what happens next. Once the committee has these financial records they become public. I plan on getting my own copy.

My guess is that the ministries are not afraid of breaking the tax law, but they are scared to death that their own congregations may find out where the money is going.

It’s been reported that Benny Hinn has:

A $10-million, 7,000 sq. ft. home, $112,000 per month for a private jet, a couple of $80,000 cars, luxury hotel rooms that are 5,400 sq. ft. at $10,800 per night for a "layover." At least Hinn is generous with his tips, which totaled over $4,500 during a recent three-day period. A salary of half a million to a million dollars per year--plus book royalties.

According to: http://blog.kir.com/archives/003639.asp

I’d like you to disregard my opening pitch. Instead:

Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Pope of Austin. And yes, I talk to God on a regular basis.

For this month only, I am offering half price on all Indulgences. How can you pass that up? Everlasting redemption for just three easy payments of $29.95, complete with a signed document from the Pope of Austin himself that you can give to God to show him how you have paid for your sins. But hold on. There’s more. Not only do you get everlasting salvation, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness. Big hitter the Lama.

Time Travel is possible

It’s official. I am a time traveler. I have actually traveled thru time. How do you travel thru time? Have a colonoscopy like I did last Wednesday.

I was talking to the nurse. The doctor walks in and the nurse said, "The doctor is here. I’m administering the drug." (I’m guessing the proceedings were being video taped.) I chatted with the doctor briefly. I told him I was glad to see he was in an upbeat mood. I said something like, ‘I’d hate to be in this position if you just had a knock down drag out fight with your wife.’ He laughed and then Bam! I was sitting in the recovery area intently listening to my doctor who was talking to my girlfriend. What?

No time passed. None at all. No fade to black. No, ‘count down from a hundred and fall asleep.’ No falling asleep. No waking up. I was in the operating room, one second, and in the recovery room the next. Time travel.

To be precise, I traveled one hour into the future. Which I guess means I will be caught up next daylight savings time.

The Drug War

Let me make this perfectly clear, before this experience I was firmly against the drug war. I was of the opinion that prohibition of drugs fuels the underground economy, criminal enterprises, and terrorists. It’s basically a public health issue and we’re using our criminal justice system to handle it. If that wasn’t enough, this failed policy is costing us a fortune.

I’m not against prohibition any more. There are two drugs that MUST be controlled. They are called Sentanyl and Versed - the time travel drugs. These two drugs must never fall into the hands of criminals. If they were available on the open market it could destroy humanity.

Even now I’m Jonesin’ for a fix. Well, actually, I just want my own supply so I could use it during the worst parts of my life. And they’ve had these drugs for years!?!!! Why didn’t anyone tell me?

During my six hour "Thanksgiving From Hell" at my uncle Edward’s house, I could of been unconscious! I’m remembering post apocalyptic two day hangover that nearly killed me on new years day 2000. I could of been unconscious! During my infamous blind date with Becky Lasko I could of been unconscious! I would of loved to have been ‘lights-out’ during dinner. She wouldn’t of noticed.

And that’s why everyone else will want these drugs if word gets out. Are you a passenger on a long car trip with a boring asshole? Sentanyl and Versed to the rescue. Are you and hour away from the front of the line at the DMV? Time for the time travel drug.

I want these drugs controlled but I want my own supply of Sentanyl and Versed and I want it now. Wake me up when we get to the good part.

Dick Cheney Jokes and the Search for a New Candidate

Once again I have mixed feelings about this race to the Whitehouse. What about the disenfranchised? We need a dark horse candidate. We need Leslie Alicia Cochran. For those of you who are not from Austin, Leslie is our resident homeless and celebrated transvestite. A few years back he ran for mayor and garnered almost three thousand votes. While Leslie may be a little off kilter he’s well spoken. I’ve spent some time with the man. For an entire summer I gave him a ride downtown from Bee Caves. He’s seems nice enough, although, even though I’ve spent hours with him, every time we meet he has no idea who I am. You know, like every other candidate.

We need a candidate that would add color to a debate stage. I was stoked when Stephen Colbert ran in South Carolina. For the first time in forever a pundit had a chance of controlling a delegate. Knowing Colbert, the Democratic Convention would of never been the same. Once again I have to mention the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. You can check it out at:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-86918391775857487

Our job as citizens is to judge these candidates as people and decide for ourselves if they are worthy of our support. How can anyone judge these people? By their very nature, Presidential Candidates are practiced at not revealing anything personal, deep or real about themselves. I have noticed that one way to gauge their real personality is to watch their reactions when confronted with the silly or the humorous. Can they make a joke? Can they tell a good one?

It’s only thru the inane that candidates are forced to let their guard down. I’ve been saving a question for years. I haven’t had the chance to hit a Republican candidate with it yet. If someone uses this, please e-mail me back and let me know how it played out.

The question: "If Jesus Christ returned to earth tomorrow and ordered you, as your professed savior, to have sex with him, would you?"

You know the candidate would be worth supporting if he gave a detailed description of how he would sexually satisfy our lord. I mean, he has too, doesn’t he? If Jesus is your lord and savior, and he orders you to do something, how can you say no? I’ll tell you how. You can say no if you don’t have enough faith. And you can say no if you hate Jesus.
_________________

Dick Cheney Fun Facts: an addendum to Jon Stewart’s "You don’t know Dick."

The first rule of Dick Cheney; you do not talk about Dick Cheney.

It is impossible to charge Dick Cheney with "obstruction of justice." This is because Cheney cannot be in two places at the same time.

In the intelligence community, death is referred to as the "Dick Cheney Disease."

Whenever Dick Cheney travels to France, they surrender.

Dick Cheney once played Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun and won.

Dick Cheney sleeps with a pillow under his gun.

Dick Cheney was once in a knife fight, and the knife lost.

Dick Cheney can slam a revolving door.

Dick Cheney doesn't play god. Playing is for children.

Dick Cheney can set ants on fire with a magnifying glass. At night.

In an act of great philanthropy, Dick Cheney made a generous donation to the American Cancer Society. He donated 6,000 dead bodies for scientific research.

Dick Cheney brushes his teeth with a mixture of iron shavings, industrial paint remover, and wood-grain alcohol.

Dick Cheney's version of a "chocolate milkshake" is a raw porterhouse wrapped around ten Hershey bars, and doused in diesel fuel.

Dick Cheney doesn’t wear a watch, HE decides what time it is.

Dick Cheney can blow bubbles with beef jerky.

Dick Cheney once fought a grown male badger out of its den with only his teeth.

Dick Cheney starts everyday with a protein shake made from Carnation Instant Breakfast, one dozen eggs, half a pound of pure Colombian cocaine, and twenty ounces of rattlesnake venom. He injects it directly into his neck with a syringe. (This one may just be an urban legend, but to date the Vice President has never denied any of it.)

When Dick Cheney goes to eat Mexican, he orders a whole Mexican but only eats his soul.

Why did Dick Cheney cross the road? No one has ever dared question his motives.

Dick Cheney can jump-start a car using jumper cables attached to his nipples.

Dick Cheney’s body temperature is 98.6 degrees... Celsius.

Dick Cheney’s tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.

Dick Cheney lost his virginity before his dad did.

Dick Cheney doesn’t consider it sex if the woman lives.

Dick Cheney invented American flag pants.
_____________



My favorite jokes:
_____________

A man walked into his psychiatrist's office with a concerned look.
"Doc, I'm worried. I'm having that dream again."
"Which dream is that?"
"You know," said the man, "the one where I'm into sadism, bestiality, and necrophilia. Should I be worried? Or am I just beating a dead horse?!"
___________

For some reason this joke sounds funnier if you imagine that Christopher Walken is telling it:
______________

A man walks into a doctor's office. He says, "Doctor, I'm really worried about this dot I've developed in the middle of my forehead. It showed up last week and it hasn't gone away."
The doctor looks at his forehead and says, "I've only seen this in my medical books, but I am certain that this is what is happening. Within the next few months, you will sprout a full-sized penis from the middle of your forehead!"

"You mean to tell me that every day when I get out of bed and look in the mirror, I'm going to see a penis growing from my forehead?"

"Oh, goodness no, of course not," said the doctor. "The balls will cover your eyes."
_____________

Now, I think this last one is hysterical. What is wrong with me? Everyone I tell it to just rolls their eyes.
_____________

Three blind mice walked into a pub.
As they couldn't observe their surroundings, it would be unfair to derive humor from this.


____________

Rudy Giuliani is to 9/11 as ___________ is to 9/11.
Answer: Reno.

_____________

Knock, knock Rudy. Who’s there?
9/11.
9/11 who?
You said you’d never forget.

Who is America?

Watching the primaries I can’t help but ask the question, who or what is America? Listening to the candidates speeches I’m guessing they know their audience. Our candidates are playing to our lowest common denominator.

I guess that’s not too surprising. As a nation we’ve lost our identity. It’s not really anyone’s fault. We’ve just grown from 179 million in 1960 to 300 million today. We lose of sense of community when our cities reach a certain high density. That one degree of separation grows into two or three degrees. No one knows anyone else. (Except for Kevin Bacon.) In small towns everyone knows your business, but you can live virtually invisible in a big city now. You can be who you want to be. Is that loss of community what sends people to churches?

Ferocity of our differences leaves me like a deer in the headlights. It’s like watching newsreels from WWI. I don’t know what to think watching young men jump out from their perfectly safe trenches into a hail a bullets. What? Why? I can’t wrap my head around it, but there it is.

Can we define America by its desires?

For instance, if you head down to the San Fernando Valley in California, you’ll find a culture a bit different from the rest of the nation. It’s better know as "San Pornando Valley" or "Silicone Valley." I recently watched a documentary called "The Girl Next Door." It’s the story of Stacy Valentine - a porn star. It gives a frank depiction of her life - the camera follows her around on her daily routine. To her credit, she’s a hard worker. 9 to 5, all day, five days a week. She meets a scuzzy boyfriend and later in the documentary they break up. Her day job doesn’t seem unusual or otherwise affect her badly. It only gets odd during the AVN (Adult Video News) awards. Stacy has worked hard, very hard, all year and she’s nominated for an award in several categories. Unfortunately, the AVN committee hands out nominations like payback on some previous sexual favor and the judges have been horny. Stacy is only one out about twenty girls in every category.

Stacy gets all dressed up. She invites her parents to the award show. They couldn’t be happier for her. She loses in all categories, and has a nice little cry on her way home in the limo she has rented for the occasion. It broke my heart. Still, it was weird. I kept questioning my own emotions. How can I feel bad for a woman that lost the award for Best Double Anal Scene? What do I know? It could of been really sub par double anal sex. Maybe she flubbed a line. So why am I sad for her?

Evangelicals

The American Christian is a hard fish to catch, but if you’d like to get a real understanding of who they are look no further than Jesus Camp by Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady and Friends of God by Alexandra Pelosi. Wow. These movies scared the shit out me. The word ‘brainwashing’ filled my consciousness. What they do to these kids in Jesus Camp makes Gitmo detainees look like they grew up in a good neighborhood. Muslims don’t know brain-washing like we know brain-washing. We start screwing with their heads before they can talk.

It reaches a special level of sickness in Bible Camp as the ‘Christians’ teach the children to speak in tongues and flop around on the floor as they feel the glory of God’s love. Hallelujah!

Someone needs to get the butterfly net.

Beauty Pageants

Beauty Pageants are like the 8-track tapes of entertainment. (I still get pissed off about being forced to listen to two bad songs so I could listen to the one good song I liked.) I have more respect for the teenagers in Girls Gone Wild than the contestants. At least they were drunk and having a good time when they exposed themselves. Women in beauty pageants are in it for. . well, I’m not sure.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Nevada. If Miss Nevada’s self esteem was water she would die of exposure in the deserts of her home state. But don’t turn the channel. Miss Nevada will be wowing the audience with her terrific trombone playing and then tell us her deep political thoughts regarding world peace."

At what point does this become any kind of fun? Who watches this stuff?
I freak out when they have those beauty pageants for little girls. We’ve all seen them. They get these girls, sometimes as young as 7 (maybe younger) and dress them up as whores. To be precise, ‘whores’ is the wrong word. What they do is try to make pre-pubescent girls sexually attractive. Why? It’s mostly their moms that are pushing this nonsense. What happened to them that they want to do this to their little girl? When does it make sense?

America the dumb

Just south of Austin, near New Braunfels is the Snake Farm; a roadside attraction rivaled only by "The Thing!" I’m convinced its what happened to the extras from the movie Deliverance after principal photography. Snake Farm has a pretty mouth.

I was there about fifteen years ago and I can’t believe I haven’t gone back. The entrance was a carnival tent awning covering a small booth with no air conditioning. Sitting behind the register, covered in sweat, was a hugely obese man in a wife beaters shirt. Nothing like sweaty man boobs to signal the best in road side attractions. When I tell this story I almost never include the truth, because no one ever believes me. He was digging in his belly button with the end of a tooth brush.

I asked him, "How did the Snake Farm get started?" He got all defensive until I told him I was a screen writer.

That’s when his brother walked up, and they told me this story. I tried my best to remember it, but they were both talking at the same time. Here’s the bare bones of it:

"Well, me and my dad, Bob-Ray, use to just catch snakes to chuck at cars on I-35. Bob-Ray got tired of throwing ‘em at cars, and said we should throw ‘em all in that big pit out back. Bob-Ray is my dad. Not his dad, my dad. Then, Bob-Ray died, my uncle Bob-Ray, not his dad. He died after being bit up by them dag-gum snakes. So, I figured, hey, why don’t I just throw those darn snakes down that pit like Bob-Ray wanted. I was pretty pissed off at them snakes for killin’ Bob-Ray so for the next three years I threw all the snakes down that pit. So many people came by the house to see all those snakes, Jimmy, Bob-Ray’s other son, put up a sign. "See the Snake Farm. Ten cents." Bob-Ray thought it’d be funny if we said we’s farmin’ the snakes. I didn’t see the harm."

And there you have it. A legend is born. I’ve already written about the Minute Men in South Texas and my run in with a bunch of them in Eagle Pass. A crazier bunch of drunk fuckers you’ll never meet.

Are we fooling ourselves?

Is the overwhelming majority of Americans actually just those people on COPS and Jerry Springer? Is America the god-fearing sky pilots jabbering into heaven? Is America those godless sodomites in California that make a living through fornication? 56% of Americans believe in UFO’s. 22% believe in a 9/11 conspiracy and I’d rather party with the UFO guys than the Jesus freaks.

Watching the candidates, I think they know who they are playing to. They have correctly judged the American sheeple. In the end it doesn’t really matter. America is all of these things. The ballet continues, the band plays on, and Michael Jackson is building a fifty foot replica of himself in the desert around Las Vegas; complete with laser beams that shoot out of its eyes.

America is lasers shooting out of Michael Jackson’s eyes.

Why I'm voting for Hillary

I’m not voting for Hillary because of anything she has said. I’m not about change. I don’t have a new vision for America. What I have is a twisted fantasy I’ve been sitting on for ten years. I want to be the next Monica Lewinsky, but I’m not going to get there if Obama wins. My sexual ego would never need stroking again if I was the one who did the President. What makes my fantasy even better is that I’m not a good looking guy. I’m 6' tall, and 280lbs. I maintain my girlish figure by sticking to the four food groups: "Candy, Candy canes, Candy Corn and Syrup." And it isn’t a good illicit affair unless the guy she’s seeing is uglier than Monica.

"Mr. Korioth, you’ve broken up a marriage, you have publically humiliated the President, and now she may be impeached over this indiscretion; what do you say to the millions of Americans who consider you as the man who destroyed this country?"

"Yeah, my penis will do that."

It would be like winning the ego lottery. But actually having sex with Hillary isn’t really part of my fantasy. The real fantasy begins when Bill and I throw down. Twenty minutes after she throws all his cloths into the rose garden, (lets not forget they are from Little Rock) Bill tells the secret service to stand down, and we go bare knuckles on white house lawn; broadcast live on CNN. Even though I don’t know any martial arts I win the fight, al la Lethal Weapon, with a roundhouse kick to his head. Hillary lets me in, and I am the new first man. That’s how I roll. It’s how its done in the big leagues. But, once again, that isn’t going to happen if Obama wins.

Well, I guess it could. But Michelle Obama would probably kick my ass, and I don’t think I’d win any ego points for having sex with Barack. Maybe a few.

My first try at writing a political speech

I currently count myself as just another out-of-work writer, but I think I’ve got a handle now on how to write political speeches. Uber-expensive polls rate important words that must be then implemented into political speeches. Not ideas or rhetoric, just the words. Without ever knowing exactly what these current money words are I can guess that one of them is, ‘change.’ (Not a hard guess.)

For Rudy Giuliani I can assume one of his power words is ‘nine-eleven.’ So, I thought I’d write a speech for Rudy. He needs the help. Most of the N.Y. fire fighters and N.Y. police hate his guts. So, here’s my attempt at political speech writing.. . .

Mr. Giuliani:

Good evening. Since the dark days of nine-eleven I’ve thought about little else but change. Change in the only way change can occur post nine-eleven. Change brought to you by nine-eleven. Change for change sake. And lets not forget, nine-eleven not only changed the way we do business; it has changed the very way we change change.

As I was thinking about change in those dark days of nine-twelve and nine-thirteen, I couldn’t help but think of the change needed because of nine-eleven. So I started calling "nine-twelve," - "nine-eleven and change." "Nine-thirteen" was "nine-eleven and more change." By the time I got to nine-fourteen, it was "change plus nine-eleven," which didn’t end there. Remember, change never ends, until you reach nine dollars and eleven cents. Only then is it nine-eleven without change.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Nine-eleven.

____________

I don’t want to give away too much. You’ll have to hear the rest at the Republican convention. Suffice to say, the rest of the speech has many more subtle references to 9-11 and change. Professional writers like myself are able to weave these terms, almost unperceptively, into the body of the speech. If you re-read it slowly, you’ll be able to see how I did it. I know, now you want to vote for Giuliani, but wait, there’s more. Send me some money and you can change nine-eleven yourself.

On another note, I got a kick out of this. . .

http://sg.news.yahoo.com/rtrs/20080110/tod-odd-brothel-dc-a929486.html

A polish man went to a brothel in Warsaw and found his wife working there. Don’t you just hate it when you find out your spouse is a whore? For some reason the guy was offended and now he's getting a divorce.

Did he forget that he was going to a whore house? I’m just guessing, but wouldn’t he be able to get some kind of discount to have sex with his own wife? He should be happy. Nine-eleven.

Democratic Candidates

After watching the debates I have a theory about the candidates. They may be about ‘change’ or know something about ‘change’ or have some ‘change’ in their pockets. I’m not sure, I fell asleep when I heard the word ‘change.’

Change, change, change, change, change.

I can only imagine the word ‘change’ was polled with voters and came back with numbers previously held with words like ‘fuck’ and ‘Gyllenhaal.’ But what strikes me as funny is the resulting conversations with the candidates before the debate.

"Good news. We spent twenty million dollars to poll forty thousand Iowan voters and found out that the word ‘change’ sends them into an orgasm. They actually ejaculate when they hear the word. If you say the word change more than twenty times, the voters will actually lite up a cigarette after the debate."
The candidates must of believed them because it soon became a ‘change’-off.

Obama: "I am all about the change."
Clinton: "You may be about change, but I am change."
Edwards: "You may be change, but I’m double change."
Obama: "Yeah, well, my change is better than your change."
Richardson: "Okay, I never got the memo about the word change."

I think what the electorate is looking for is a candidate that doesn’t listen to these inane polls. But once again reality sets in and I realize that you can’t get elected without jiggling your keys in front of the infant voters. Still, there’s got to be something better to say. How about, "I’m all about a non-static posture." or "A vote for me is a vote against the status quo." or "Vote for me and you’ll be voting against Britney Spears and Paris Hilton."

I only put in Britney and Paris because their names generate more hits on my blog.

Debate Coverage - it’s not the answers, it’s the questions.

Oddly enough, its not the answers that fills me with dread. It’s the questions. They never ask questions of value.

Questions never asked: Off the top of my head. . . .

Have you ever seen a UFO? (Pres. Carter did.) How many people would you justify killing to secure our oil interests? Who are your biggest contributors and how beholden are you to them? Will you be appointing a special prosecutor to pursue Bush administration wrong doings? If no, how many other crimes will you ask the Justice Department not to pursue? (For the Republicans) Why is homosexuality so abhorrent to you? Please describe your own sexual proclivities so we all can judge you. Doggy style? Oral sex? Would you ever consider having sex with Jesus?

Do you believe that global warming exists? If so, do you agree that drastic action is required?

There are two million people in U.S. prisons. 80% are in prison for drug offences. Is the legal system the best way to handle what is essentially a public health issue? Marijuana doesn’t kill anyone, how do you justify legalize tobacco? Should marijuana be legal? Should alcohol? Alcohol kills more and hurts more than all the illegal drugs combined.

If you don’t endorse universal healthcare, how do you justify murdering U.S. citizens that don’t have insurance?

And can we, for the love of god, have a debate which give the candidates enough time to fully answer the questions. And if they don’t answer the question, can’t the moderator press for an answer? I’d prefer a system whereas the moderator can push a button and send the candidate through a trap door if they don’t answer.

Almost every politician has endorsed testing our teachers - can’t we test the candidates? Give me a thousand word essay describing the worst part of the American dream. How are your algebra skills? How many signers of the Constitution can you name? Please list the amendments to the constitution.
Since we’ll never, ever, ever get anything like that, I’m throwing up my hands at the entire process.

The shallow American . . .

Lets get down to the real issues. We don’t really need a debate. We don’t even need a primary. As an American I make my choice based on looks alone. I’m all about the image. So, in the end its Romney vs. Obama. But, as an American, I place huge value on their names, so I can’t vote for Mitt or Obama. I’ve never even heard of a Mitt before. That leaves Hillary. But as an American my voting decision is mostly based on who has the best television commercial. Hillary has the worst commercials. So, as an American, my vote now goes to whoever gives me the best photo ops. I need a candidates willing to go to a diner and sample the local cuisine, just to show they are like the average Joe. Too bad that will never happen. But if I had to make a decision now, my vote goes to the best haircut. For this reason, and this reason alone, I am throwing my support behind Derek Zoolander! Zoolander from President!!!! Mugatu for Vice President.

Rollerball

Rollerball was on T.V. last night. Released in 1975, Rollerball is a vision of our future where society was run by corporations and professional sports franchises are nothing more than an updated version of the Roman gladiatorial games. Over the top drivel. I had to laugh.

I hate it when Hollywood takes fantasy too far. I mean, honestly, you can’t believe for one second that millions of people would blindly worship gladiatorial type games while Rome is burning. People aren’t that dumb. If criminals took over our government, looted our treasuries, started wars that killed hundreds of thousands of people and committed high treason, the citizens wouldn’t be huddled around the T.V. in grave concern over the Super Bowl. People wouldn’t be praying to God for their team to win. It just couldn’t happen. The American people are smarter than that.

Imagine corporations running society. How absurd. And what kind of world would we live in if corporations owned our home town sports teams? The very idea is crazy. Why would anyone root for a home town team if that team was full of players that weren’t from that home town? And even if a few of them grew up in the city the team is based in, why would you care about them if they were regularly traded between teams? Even better, why would anyone root for a team which could switch home towns? The very idea is absurd. Sports fans aren’t that dumb.

If teams were owned by corporations, the players would only be regarded as commodities. All that would matter would be the bottom line. You could never really have any sports heros. A players value would be directly related to their performance and drugs that enhance that performance would become paramount. Fans would be reduced to rooting for the player that took the best drugs. It’s the height of absurdity.

The very idea of a corporate society is ridiculous. What will Hollywood think of next? It could never work. Leaders that serve the interests of the corporations over their own citizens? Impossible. They could never get elected if they didn’t represent the people.

You just can’t fool the Americans into voting a criminal into office. To do something like that you’d have to find millions of people who already have a difficult time defining their own reality and people aren’t so gullible as to believe any moron in a suit that professes their same exact values.

A society built on corporate ethics? To actually think that corporations can teach people fall in love with the pursuit of money - it’s the height of absurdity. You’d have to brainwash the populace. Corporations would have to fill the media with propaganda of the virtue of pursuing wealth. They’d never be able to pull it off.

There would have to be television shows dedicated to the virtue of self indulgence. Who can have the biggest party? Who can spend the most money on their lavish lifestyle? They can’t sell shows like that. People aren’t dumb enough to watch that kind of drivel. Teenagers, maybe. But they’d have to disguise the shows as young and hip. Like who can have the biggest and best sweet 16 party. Or maybe they’d just dazzle the kids with shows about the excessive lifestyles of ultra rich movie and television actors. But come on, nothing like that could really happen.

I’m sure that in this freaky weird Rollerball future world there were entire television networks dedicated to innocuous social trends like fashion and celebrities; reporting it like it’s news. As if grown adults would care about the latest fashion trends while their country was being destroyed by criminals. It’s absurd. Once again I must laugh at the very thought. Ha. Ha. Ha. That could never happen.

Rollerball. An outrageous concept for our future. It’s too over-the-top. But if you’re looking for a truly prophetic look at the future, look no further than Planet of the Apes. That could really happen. I truly believe that some day apes will reclaim this planet and I look forward to serving our new overlords. Lucky for me I ran into this really cool politician. He said he shares my faith in the dream of an ape run world. I’m voting for him now. He gets me.