Will we soon have a case of an ex-bearded dictator on our hands? Perhaps when I wake up tomorrow, Fidel Castro will be pining for the fjords. Of course, it could be another false alarm, but a lot of those were years ago, when he was younger. You can’t put the reaper off forever. And I have the feeling Someone is impatient to go over a very large backlog of debts….
Reaction to Mel Gibson’s recent drunken, anti-Jewish-laced tirade from his fellow Christians illustrate one of the many reasons I stay home on Sundays. Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t much care for Mel Gibson, though I have enjoyed some of his movies. But lately (since at least Braveheart on down) he has struck me as being mostly a shouty boor. Still, he has actually apologized for his actions in a way that doesn’t sound like all the other “apologies” (you know, the “I’m sorry you were offended” type of apology we usually get from people caught in the act of Jew-hating and other reprehensible actions), releasing a statement that contained words like “despicable” to describe his own behavior. So I give him that.
But that’s not good enough for his self-righteous fellow Christians, who are too busy congratulating themselves for the fact that, while they may have sinned a little here and there, at least they haven’t committed that sin, which is apparently worse than all the other sins. That’s as may be. But I don’t remember anything in the prayers or Scripture or other Christian lessons about how we have to forgive the sins of others (”as we forgive those who trespass against us” — that’s the line, I believe) except, of course, for that sin.
Sure, maybe he’s just cleverer than most — a “bullshit artist” as one “conservative” commentator Kathy linked to called him — and has simply released the apology to protect his career. But not being able to read minds, and not being endowed with God-like insight into his soul, I can’t prove that. And neither can you, my fine-feathered Christians.
Lately I have been irritated by spam pests attempting to comment and trackback to one of my older blogs. Since that blog uses an older version of Wordpress and the comments are coming to posts that were deleted I am not sure how to turn off the trackbacking and commenting for those posts. I mean, they were deleted. And now some nimrod, who will not be linked by me, decided to track back to a long, boring comment someone left in one of my posts from two years ago. I didn’t read it then, I don’t care what it says now. Since said nimrod basically lifted the entire comment, I will figure he no longer needs the services of my two-year-old blog to lead readers to his dull site, so I think I will delete the post. It wasn’t very interesting anyway.
One second later: buh-bye. That was painless. Now people coming from his blog will get a page saying “sorry, no posts match your criteria.” Hahahahaha!
Earlier this month I deleted everything in the victorysoap.us folder. Now I am thinking about doing away with a couple of my older blogs. They just take up space and seem to invite spam. Many of the notions I chattered about in them are either old news, stuff I no longer care about, random problems of my life that it is no point in keeping on the internet, yadda yadda. And I could fill my spare web space with my photos instead. On the other hand, it’s a bit of work. I can’t even be bothered to update my Flickr site. We’ll see.
It occurs to me that my writing output would be much greater if I could just overcome my inhibitions about talking out loud and buy a tape recorder. See, I get all these great thoughts about things to write — posts, stories, novels — then I sit down at the keyboard and am overcome with ennui at the thought of typing anything. Then again, maybe I just need another cup of coffee.
Yup, they’re still at it. I decided to go to one of the big malls, which meant a grueling three-bus trip. I got back fairly late — almost 10pm — and Shouty and the Pounders were making my ceiling crack and bits of plaster fall down…. practically. At one point Shouty started screeching at her boyfriend “I hate you!” while he turned up The Doors “Love Her Madly” and started drunkenly singing at her. I was hoping this meant she would be angry and leave, but so far no such luck.
Finally, after what sounded like several attempts to dribble bowling balls in their bedroom, which is directly above mine (no, I don’t know why they can’t listen to music, pogo or whatever it is they do, and have fights in their very own living room instead), I had to pick up the chair and turn it upside down so I could bang on the ceiling with its legs. (It’s just a lightweight fake iron dining chair, probably actually made of aluminum. I’m no Superwoman. In fact, after a day like today I’m surprised I was able to pick up the chair. Well, I was extremely irritated.) They seem to have quieted down some at that. Maybe the drugs are kicking in, or maybe they can hear the “Hearts of Space” show (or the other New Agey music show) that I am playing on the stereo and are becoming hypnotized. I thought of retaliating with more loud music to match theirs, but I just couldn’t bring myself to listen to any more rock and roll today.
A gun went off in Seattle today, incidentally injuring some Jewish women (whose fault it was for being in their very own community center instead of safe at home), and killing one, and endangering the freedom of the Pakistani-American man who happened to stroll by with the gun in his hand. He was also reported to have shouted “I’m a Muslim-American; I’m angry at Israel!” but we all know that can’t be true — Muslims are the Peaceful people. What he was probably shouting was “I’m a hungry American — I’m hankering for a really–” he probably meant to say “well-cooked falafel pita pocket,” but just then the gun went on its unthinking rampage.
There. Have I successfully conveyed the official spin this will receive on lefty comment boards?
More on this from Steve H. — in fact, his post is as perfect as any I have ever read on the true character of our enemies.
Ha ha! The idiots upstairs have been having a party since approximately three in the morning, complete with indoor soccer — or perhaps bowling — and my favorite drunken shouty woman. So when I got up (finally, sleep being no longer possible) I turned on my stereo. Now they are playing Danzig. Ha ha! Turn it up! Mother!
Note: lack of sleep makes me cranky, yessss Preciouss it doessss…..
Cruz said that when he heard a commotion, he walked out of his back door
with his cell phone to see what was happening. He said that when he saw
the street lined with police cars, he decided to take a picture of the
scene.”I opened (the phone) and took a shot,” Cruz said.
Moments later, Cruz said he got the shock of his life when an officer came to his back yard gate.
“He opened the gate and took me by my right hand,” Cruz said.
Cruz said the officer threw him onto a police car, cuffed him and took him to jail.
A neighbor said she witnessed the incident and could not believe what she saw.
“He opened up the gate and Neffy was coming down and he went up to Neffy,
pulled him down, had Neffy on the car and was telling him, ‘You should
have just went in the house and minded your own business instead of
trying to take pictures off your picture phone,’” said Gerrell Martin.
Gee I don’t know, but there’s something in this whole saga that doesn’t sound right. For one thing, nowhere in the article is anything to either refute or support the existence of this alleged law (against taking pictures of police with a cell phone). If no such law existed (and I can’t imagine such a law being put into effect anywhere in the United States without causing an instant outcry, and considering how crucial to “citizen journalism” type blogging cell phone cameras are, there would have been an outcry, believe me) then the cops were making shit up in order to play micro-fascist, and Cruz has a case. If they didn’t say any such thing, as they claim, then one wonders what they really hauled the guy in for. According to the story, the police were engaged in a drug bust on one of Cruz’s neighbors. It’s possible they were hopped up from adrenaline and got upset when Mr. Citizen Journalist whipped out his cell phone, which in the heat of the moment tend to resemble all sorts of less-innocuous objects. Either way, letting us know whether or not there was an actual statute that was violated would at least add more information to this vaguely imflammatory article. It could still all be true, but leaving that fact out makes the story smell to me, and Professor Libertarian is too busy jumping on the freedom-from-government train to notice.
That’s how I was feeling about ten in the morning today. It started with a little… discomfort, so I hied myself to the office ladies’ room. Half an hour later, I’m feeling one pants size smaller and possibly one inch shorter.
I think you see where this is going.
Anyway, I stuffed myself full of generic crap-no-more stuff, which stopped the inner earthquakes, but the rest of the day I felt as if I’d been folded, spindled, and mutilated. (Anybody remember “do not fold, spindle, or mutilate”? Am I the oldest office flunky in the United States?) By the time I got home I was ready to collapse, and I did. I woke up around 9:30, and have been having a divine repast of decaffeinated tea and plain toast. I’m wondering what caused this. I had instant oatmeal for breakfast, but I don’t usually react to it with such… vigor. I have been eating pasta for dinner, which tends to bind me up a tad. I also had a salad from a bag. E. coli? That email has been making the rounds again.
Well whatever. I think I’ll tuck myself back into bed. It’s a good thing I don’t feel like eating, because I don’t have that much money. Thank God Friday is payday.