Money, Oil, Greed, Bribery, and 13 year old crack whores, The Bill Allen Story

Operation Party Hard



Saturday March 15th is the next protest day against Scientology. I’ll be there this time, but I need to find a good mask. I hear cowls are in this year so I’ll probably go as Batman. I invite all of my Super Friends into joining me. Once again I invite anyone from Anonymous to exchange e-mails with me about the history of Anonymous or any other interesting facts. I’d love to write an article on your heroics.

On another note:

Now that Omar is dead, I can’t stop thinking about my new hero. I know I’ve written about him before but I can’t get enough of Bill Allen. For those of you who don’t read Basket of Puppies on a regular basis VECO’s former CEO, Bill Allen is the new Hunter S. Thompson. For years he had the arrogance to bribe his way around the U.S. Senate and the Alaskan Legislature. He’s already been indicted, pled guilty, but still has some more trials to face.

I’m a little slow on this update. Suzi-Q brought the news to my attention:
Allen teen sex inquiry reopened - from Feb. 3rd. Apparently this story is just beginning.

I love this story. I’m calling dibs on writing the screenplay “Money, Oil, Greed, Bribery, and 13 year old crack whores, The Bill Allen Story.”

In his world, their love is considered taboo. In her world, there were no taboos. Two people come together in a freaky weird night of passion, crack and quarterly reports. Can true love work between a 60 year old alcoholic oil executive and a 13 year old crack whore? Wilford Brimley as CEO of VECO oil, Bill Allen. Suzanne Summers as the thirteen year old crack whore Bambi Tyree. Together, they’ll teach you how to love again.

When will I find my Bambi Tyree? I know, I’m a romantic. Maybe if I put an ad on Craig’s list.
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Stephen Colbert played this Arnold Schwarzenegger Japanese Commercial on his show last night. I can’t help but wonder if LSD is the new national Japanese pass time.



I don’t know what’s in that little bottle, but these guys are tippin balls and I’m not sure it’s the good kind of trip. It gives off that weird yellow submarine vibe. And what gives with the maniacal laughter?
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Again with Rev. Gary Aldridge. . .

I received a weird anonymous e-mail. They wanted to know why I thought the story of Rev. Gary Aldridge was so funny. For those of you who don’t read my blog, Rev. Gary Aldridge was a well liked pastor of the Montgomery's Thorington Road Baptist Church in Alabama. Republican conservative hypocrisy isn’t always essential in bringing the funny, but my shadenfreud guru hasn’t been this happy since Swaggart got caught with a whore.

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/1008072scuba1.html

But let me be specific. It’s not funny when a proper, well dignified, upstanding pillar of the Christian community, and pastor of a major ultra-conservative Baptist church goes home after a hard day of Churchin’, sits down, watches some T.V. and then goes about inserting a dildo into his rectum before putting on a rubber suit. Okay, that is kind of funny. Mainly because of all the hard work involved in covering your entire body in rubber with a dildo up your ass. It must of taken him twenty minutes. (I don’t think I have the energy for a fetish.)

Real funny comes from shock and awe as the mega- church learns the truth. For most of the congregation I’m sure it had to be explained. “What is autoerotic asphyxiation daddy?”

You know they didn’t explain his death at Sunday mass. They couldn’t post it on the community bulletin board. They probably came out and said, “sorry, he’s dead. No reason. He just died.” How could they say anything else? You can’t just lay ‘dildo, rubber suit and autoerotic asphyxiation’ on a delicate congregation and then follow with Amazing Grace. (I would of paid to seen that.)

News must of spread like a Vegas bride. It fills me with shadenfreud glee thinking about the myriad of right-wing Alabama grandmothers that were given an advance study course in fetish and fetish safety. Do you have a safety word grandma?

What would Jesus say? “Blessed are the ruber-ee. For they shall bounce highest.”

Getting stoned with a 13 year old crack whore

Two stories caught my attention yesterday.

First was the story of Bill Allen. A good Republican. A loyal Republican. Don’t get him confused with Bob Allen. Bob Allen was the Republican State Rep and Florida co-Chairman of McCain for President that was arrested for offering an undercover male cop $20 to blow him in the restroom they were standing in.

And don’t confuse Bill Allen with Claude Allen. Claude was the Allen that was Bush's domestic policy adviser that pled guilty to theft in making phony returns at discount department stores while working at the White House. He got two years probation and fined $500.

Bill Allen was the Republican CEO of Veco. He’s the Allen that is currently under investigation for showing an amazing aptitude for bribing U.S. Senators. Specifically, Ted Stevens out of Alaska.

Bambi Tyree

The first time I heard the name, "Bambi Tyree" here’s what I thought:

"Hi. I’m here for the career testing and see a guidance counselor. "
"I’m the one you’re looking for. What’s your name?"
"Bambi Tyree."
"Bambi, you should be a crack whore."
"But what about the test?"
"No need. Your name is Bambi Tyree. ‘Nuff said. You’re a crack whore. Here’s some crack to get you started."

It turns out Republican Bob Allen got his bribe-training by paying for sex with a 13 year old crack whore, Bambi Tyree. My schadenfrueden guru just had an orgasm.

Bob Allen, possibly the long lost brother of George Hunter White, played the perfect Republican. His public face told the story of a man who believed deeply in the teachings of Jesus Christ. God Bless America. Behind the scenes he was handing out bribes and violating thirteen year old crack whores.

I really wish I had the absence of conscience so I could live like that. That sounds fun. I guess you don’t have to believe in Jesus Christ to do the right thing.

Other stories are like rubbing the cat, tail to head.

Iranian sisters face stoning for adultery

How old-school is stoning?

After thinking about it I realized that stoning was, in fact, the oldest school. The entire process leaves me extremely curious. How many stones? Is there a limit to the size of the stones? How do they choose the executioners? Have they ever stoned a man for adultery? And how many executioners are there? How close are the executioners allowed to the victim? If you’re in a stadium full of executioners with rocks, aren’t you afraid everyone could end up throwing stones at everyone else? It would be like the ending to most three-stooges movies but instead of pies, its rocks. Although, it would probably be funnier.

It’s about revenge.

No doubt significant portions of the Iranian populace agree with murdering women as revenge for adultery. Here in America we do revenge right. Here the populace supports incarcerating 80% of our 2 million men in prison as revenge for being addicted to drugs. Instead of treating it as a medical condition we force these people to live with murderers and psychopaths. That’ll teach ‘em to get addicted.

I’m sure Dick Cheney’s answer to Iranian misogyny is to bomb Iran forward into the stone age. But somehow, I don’t think killing millions of Iranians will teach them to love women. I doubt they’ll make the connection. If we want to get them to start treating women better, I think we need to get into a rock fight. They’ll understand that. It would probably be funnier.

None of it makes much sense to me.

42 hours of Zen

Ever since I went time traveling, I’ve been thinking about time.

We don’t really have much time. Take out sleep - one-third of you life from an average 72 year life span. . . that leaves 48 years of being conscious. Subtract all the time you’ve spent in real pain. Take out all the time you’ve spent at the DMV, the bank, that jobs you hate (it’s okay to say all of them), crying, dealing with the insurance company after a wreck, cleaning the bathroom, doing laundry, taking out the garbage, fixing your car, then taking your car into be fixed by a professional, etc. .etc. .etc. . .

If we also subtract the time we spend having sex and pursuing sex, that leaves us with 42 hours. 42 hours living the way we really desire. For the sake of argument, assume that 42 hours is an accurate number. If you are able, ‘wasting time’ takes on a whole new gravity.

Making Decisions

I was forced into writing "etc. . etc. . etc. . ." When I sat down I had planned to list all the things that none of us like doing and subtracting that time from a normal life span, but I quickly realized my list could take weeks to complete. Weeks I don’t have. I had to make a decision.

We make decisions about our time, all the time, and we don’t even notice it. How much time do you spend trying to figure out the quickest way to drive to a destination? How much time do you spend measuring your monetary or emotional return from a course of action? Time is the measuring guideline we all use for almost every decision we make. Even though we rarely say it out loud, the question is always, "Is this worth my time?"

Once, while working under a deadline, I lost two days of data entry when my computer died. I was in agony. I lusted for revenge. I wanted recompense for my lost time. I wanted justice. I finally decided my best option was forcing everyone I knew to suffer through my bad mood. That’ll teach life to screw me over.

Hate is never worth your time.

Hate never works, it never pays off, it never does anything for anyone. It just wastes time.

The time I’ve spent angry is still my greatest regret. If I had to add up all the time I spent stomping around my house, angry about the way I was treated, re-playing events in my head, cursing the evil-doers that led to my outrage, I’d slit my wrists. But I don’t want to wait that long to die.

Revenge is even worse. Revenge actually allows us to justify wasting time on wasted time. It tells us it’s okay to waste more of your time if you can force your enemy to waste his. When does that logic work? You never gain from revenge. You can only spend more of your precious time wasting someone else’s. That’s why the best revenge is living well. And that’s also why you’d be better off in a rock fight.

How much time do we really have?

The truth is we have much less than 42 hours. We only have now. This very instant. Damn. You missed it. You were reading this stupid blog and you missed now. There it goes again.

Allow me to apologize by teaching you to fish for time. Here’s how to get more time.

Live in the now.
Next time you pop bubble wrap, relax and take your time. Slowly press the bubble to it’s popping point. Keep it there. Anticipate the pop. Breath in, and then, as you slowly release your breath, press harder and take in the entire pop. Listen to the entire pop. It’s fast, you have to listen. Do it again. Try listening a second time. Don’t forget to breath. Listen carefully. Take in the moment.

Now do that for everything you enjoy. Life is a ride.

Why 42? Forty-two is the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything. - Douglas Adams.