It seems I missed one.
This headline from Boing Boing was too good not to post.
"Google won't autocomplete "bittorrent" but will autocomplete "how to kidnap a child"
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Things I Can See From Here
It happens every damn time. I come to the coffee shop to get some work done and I end up playing on the Internet. It's my crack. These are the highlights of my browsing session.
First off, yes I realize that this highlight reel to the Tamil film ROBOT, found at Warren Ellis's place, is not in English or even subtitled. Shut up. You don't need it to be. Just watch. If you don't hear your inner five-year-old giggling maniacally half way through, then...I don't know. You're a lost cause. Kill yourself.
Oh, and speaking of five-year-olds here's one with his own webcomic. AXE COP is the story of AXE COP, the COP with a motherfucking AXE, motherfucker! AXE COP began when 5 year old Malachai Nicholle invited his brother, 29 year old comic artist Ethan Nicolle, to play Axe Cop over a Christmas visit. The game turned into a webcomic that young Malachai still scripts while big brother Ethan draws. AXE COP is a subtle reminder that within the mind of every 5-year-old is a serial killer, a cocaine snorting chimpanzee and Quentin Tarantino. It's also undiluted awesomeness on the page. Watch AXE COP defeat a giant robot by hitting it in the head with a baby! See AXE COP fight aliens while riding a flying Tyrannosaurus Rex with Gatling gun arms. Just go read AXE COP. And buy all their crap.
Finally, "How to Make a Trillion Dollars" is a short article on raptitude.com. It seemed to brighten my day a bit which isn't an easy trick. I can't wait to read more by this writer. He may not be a revolutionary philosopher but definitely a philosopher for the revolution.
First off, yes I realize that this highlight reel to the Tamil film ROBOT, found at Warren Ellis's place, is not in English or even subtitled. Shut up. You don't need it to be. Just watch. If you don't hear your inner five-year-old giggling maniacally half way through, then...I don't know. You're a lost cause. Kill yourself.
Oh, and speaking of five-year-olds here's one with his own webcomic. AXE COP is the story of AXE COP, the COP with a motherfucking AXE, motherfucker! AXE COP began when 5 year old Malachai Nicholle invited his brother, 29 year old comic artist Ethan Nicolle, to play Axe Cop over a Christmas visit. The game turned into a webcomic that young Malachai still scripts while big brother Ethan draws. AXE COP is a subtle reminder that within the mind of every 5-year-old is a serial killer, a cocaine snorting chimpanzee and Quentin Tarantino. It's also undiluted awesomeness on the page. Watch AXE COP defeat a giant robot by hitting it in the head with a baby! See AXE COP fight aliens while riding a flying Tyrannosaurus Rex with Gatling gun arms. Just go read AXE COP. And buy all their crap.
************************************
I'm kinda weird in the respect that I like movies about a bunch of normal guys walking through hellish landscapes that try to kill them every ten steps or so. That said, I'm seein' this. Who's with me?
Finally, "How to Make a Trillion Dollars" is a short article on raptitude.com. It seemed to brighten my day a bit which isn't an easy trick. I can't wait to read more by this writer. He may not be a revolutionary philosopher but definitely a philosopher for the revolution.
"The Man does what he does because he doesn’t know any better — he’s an addict himself, with poor life skills."
Friday, January 21, 2011
GOP Eats It's Own for Not Hating Brown People
found via Foolocracy
The Republican Party takes another step down the long, shadowy back-woods trail to the land of bat-shit crazy. New Jersey Governor and apparent doughnut enthusiast Chris Christie has been the darling of the conservative side of the aisle since his election. There's even been talk of him running for President in 2012. Well, there was until Christie committed the cardinal Republican sin of liking a brown skinned dude.
While Republican politicians have a long history of liking brown skinned dudes, their traditional method of doing so involves a mildew stained motel room, a bottle of cheap tequila and a fully shaved, seventeen-year-old boy named Raoul.
Christie seems to have fucked up this long beloved GOP practice by actually appointing his brown skinned dude to the position of judge instead of simply taking him forcibly from behind on a soiled mattress and leaving twenty dollars on the bedside table.
Conservative commentator and former Bush aide Karl Rove was quoted on his Fox News as saying, "NOT LIKE THAT, YOU IDIOT! LIKE THIS! LIKE THIS!" Rove then proceeded to forcefully ram his half-hard member into the not entirely willing mouth of Paolo, a young Nicaraguan man in handcuffs kneeling before him on the studio floor. Paolo's eye's slowly began to well with tears as he tried to accommodate the former Bushie organ as it ground painfully against the back of his throat. Oh well, thought Paolo, at least his new Yankee trick paid better than the cartel cowboys in his home country.
What is it about Christie liking a brown skinned dude in an official, non-exploitative capacity that has the rest of the GOP in such an up roar?
This time the brown skinned dude in question is Sohail Mohammed, an Indian born Muslim. This seems to have pissed off some Conservatives, because, according to them, we're still not supposed to like people with names like Mohammed. And we're certainly not supposed to appoint them to be judges. To make matters worse for Christie, Mohammed is a man who has been working around the clock for years, in his capacity as a New Jersey lawyer, to bring the mainstream Muslim community into the fold of mainstream American society during a political climate where this is the least popular thing he could possibly do. So, from a non-racist, common sense perspective, Christie didn't just appoint a Muslim, he appointed a damn hero lawyer who happens to be Muslim. What was he thinking?
From Foolocracy;
Hear that? Super Lawyer. I didn't make that up. No matter how you want to cut it Sohail Mohammed is one of the good guys. But, he's a Muslim. And now the GOP is willing to throw one of it's own under the bus for associating with him.
Remember back when they arrested that IT guy because he worked in the same office as a guy who had a cousin who might be in Al Qaeda and then shipped him off to another country to be tortured for several months? That shit was crazy right. Well, the guys who did that are still around, some are still in office and, in their minds, the rule of guilt by association applies absolutely.
Now the question is, should the sane among us feel better or worse knowing that even Republicans aren't immune to the retribution of the bat-shit insane?
The Republican Party takes another step down the long, shadowy back-woods trail to the land of bat-shit crazy. New Jersey Governor and apparent doughnut enthusiast Chris Christie has been the darling of the conservative side of the aisle since his election. There's even been talk of him running for President in 2012. Well, there was until Christie committed the cardinal Republican sin of liking a brown skinned dude.
While Republican politicians have a long history of liking brown skinned dudes, their traditional method of doing so involves a mildew stained motel room, a bottle of cheap tequila and a fully shaved, seventeen-year-old boy named Raoul.
Christie seems to have fucked up this long beloved GOP practice by actually appointing his brown skinned dude to the position of judge instead of simply taking him forcibly from behind on a soiled mattress and leaving twenty dollars on the bedside table.
Conservative commentator and former Bush aide Karl Rove was quoted on his Fox News as saying, "NOT LIKE THAT, YOU IDIOT! LIKE THIS! LIKE THIS!" Rove then proceeded to forcefully ram his half-hard member into the not entirely willing mouth of Paolo, a young Nicaraguan man in handcuffs kneeling before him on the studio floor. Paolo's eye's slowly began to well with tears as he tried to accommodate the former Bushie organ as it ground painfully against the back of his throat. Oh well, thought Paolo, at least his new Yankee trick paid better than the cartel cowboys in his home country.
What is it about Christie liking a brown skinned dude in an official, non-exploitative capacity that has the rest of the GOP in such an up roar?
This time the brown skinned dude in question is Sohail Mohammed, an Indian born Muslim. This seems to have pissed off some Conservatives, because, according to them, we're still not supposed to like people with names like Mohammed. And we're certainly not supposed to appoint them to be judges. To make matters worse for Christie, Mohammed is a man who has been working around the clock for years, in his capacity as a New Jersey lawyer, to bring the mainstream Muslim community into the fold of mainstream American society during a political climate where this is the least popular thing he could possibly do. So, from a non-racist, common sense perspective, Christie didn't just appoint a Muslim, he appointed a damn hero lawyer who happens to be Muslim. What was he thinking?
From Foolocracy;
"He [Mohammed] received credit for bringing trust and understanding between the Muslim community and law enforcement after 9/11. In the past, he has sought to bring the Muslim community deeper into integration with American society, including the organization of a law enforcement job fair at a mosque. Mohammed has also trained FBI agents about Islam and its culture. He also has been named a Super Lawyer in New Jersey every year since 2006. Super Lawyers are chosen by their peers and through independent research."
Hear that? Super Lawyer. I didn't make that up. No matter how you want to cut it Sohail Mohammed is one of the good guys. But, he's a Muslim. And now the GOP is willing to throw one of it's own under the bus for associating with him.
Remember back when they arrested that IT guy because he worked in the same office as a guy who had a cousin who might be in Al Qaeda and then shipped him off to another country to be tortured for several months? That shit was crazy right. Well, the guys who did that are still around, some are still in office and, in their minds, the rule of guilt by association applies absolutely.
Now the question is, should the sane among us feel better or worse knowing that even Republicans aren't immune to the retribution of the bat-shit insane?
Friday, December 17, 2010
Senate to Firefighters; Suck it!
This clip has been posted everywhere but it can't be reposted enough.
The Senate decided to table the First Responder's Bill, which would provide health coverage to Firefighters, Police officers and other emergency personnel who responded to the 9/11 attacks.
Waitaminute!!! 9/11? Wasn't that, like, almost a decade ago? You mean, we still haven't taken care of those guys?
Nope. Oh, and here's the kicker. Take a guess which media outlet is the only source covering this story on TV. No, seriously, guess. Not ABC. Not CNN. Fox? Kiss my ass.
The one and only Broadcast "news" source that's even talking about this is the Daily Show. Shit you not.
Oh, and Al Jazeera.
Found via Kung Fu Monkey.
The Senate decided to table the First Responder's Bill, which would provide health coverage to Firefighters, Police officers and other emergency personnel who responded to the 9/11 attacks.
Waitaminute!!! 9/11? Wasn't that, like, almost a decade ago? You mean, we still haven't taken care of those guys?
Nope. Oh, and here's the kicker. Take a guess which media outlet is the only source covering this story on TV. No, seriously, guess. Not ABC. Not CNN. Fox? Kiss my ass.
The one and only Broadcast "news" source that's even talking about this is the Daily Show. Shit you not.
Oh, and Al Jazeera.
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| 9/11 First Responders React to the Senate Filibuster | ||||
| ||||
Found via Kung Fu Monkey.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Stem cell transplant has cured HIV infection in 'Berlin patient', say doctors
That headline deserves it's own post.
Don't let this story get buried people! The medical industry has a lot more money to make by treating the disease rather than curing it. The religious fanatics in the anti-stem cell/anti-gay/anti-anything-that-pisses-them-off crowds will have their usual issues.
Between the money and the crazy in the world you're probably going to either not hear much about this story or you're going to hear that it was a fluke and there's no actual cure here.
I call horseshit on that in advance. I call horseshit on behalf of the millions of people who've died or become infected or widowed or orphaned as a result of this disease.
But if basic altruism isn't enough of a reason for you to shout this news from the rooftops and demand that your government renew its support of HIV\AIDS research, maybe you'll appreciate what Bill Hicks had to say on the subject.
Don't let this story get buried people! The medical industry has a lot more money to make by treating the disease rather than curing it. The religious fanatics in the anti-stem cell/anti-gay/anti-anything-that-pisses-them-off crowds will have their usual issues.
Between the money and the crazy in the world you're probably going to either not hear much about this story or you're going to hear that it was a fluke and there's no actual cure here.
I call horseshit on that in advance. I call horseshit on behalf of the millions of people who've died or become infected or widowed or orphaned as a result of this disease.
But if basic altruism isn't enough of a reason for you to shout this news from the rooftops and demand that your government renew its support of HIV\AIDS research, maybe you'll appreciate what Bill Hicks had to say on the subject.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Andre the Dildo
I haven't really been giving this blog the kind of love and attention that it deserves.
Sorry, fans. I've let you down. I've got a few rants in the pipe that need polishing, but it might be next week before those get polished enough to be posted.
So, to tide you over until then, I'm going to share with you a piece of something I've been working on.
The following is an excerpt from my doomed to fail vampire novel (yes, I'm writing a vampire novel. Shut up.)
The chapter you're about to read comes from the middle of the book, but I think it stands on its own enough for you to pick up the plot and it brings the funny.
Enjoy.
Here’s the back story on Andre the Dildo.
He’s a human dildo. Enough said.
Oh, what? You want the long version. Fair enough, you bought the book and all.
Andre the Dildo is the world’s one and only vampire hunter. And yes, he’s serious about that. He’s got the business cards and everything. Never mind the fact that Lizzard is the one and only human being who’s ever been publicly outted as having a nutritional dependency on human blood and an allergy to sunlight so severe that he will actually burst into flames. Never mind that Lizzard has never taken blood from a human without consent or killed anyone. Never mind that he’s the only one the general public knows of with that condition and that apart from having an unlisted number he’s not really in hiding from anyone. There’s actually a lunatic out there who claims it’s his profession to “hunt” people with Lizzard’s condition.
Needless to say, Lizzard hates this guy’s guts. The harassment he’s suffered from Andre the Dildo hasn’t been as whole hearted as the that he’s suffered from some of the radical Christian groups out there, but it has definitely been annoying. Andre’s idea of hunting Lizzard apparently includes posting gay sex ads online including Lizzard’s real phone number, going through his trash and occasionally trying to murder him in public. Once Andre tried to stab him with a wooden stake, but between the fact that the stake was a number two pencil and Andre was too nervous to give a proper stabbing, the pencil just broke against Lizzard’s chest. That time Lizzard got rid of the scared-shitless little wonk by telling him to fuck off. The other time Andre tried to kill him was on the subway when Andre tried to wrestle Lizzard’s hood and day shirt off him to expose him to sunlight. This actually frightened Lizzard to the point that he broke Andre’s arm in two places and then, inexplicably felt bad about it afterwards. Bad enough that he declined to press charges, but not bad enough to stop him from filing a restraining order against the turd.
Truth be told, Lizzard hated the living shit out of Andre the Dildo long before he came down with his condition.
Andre the Dildo earned his nickname simply enough. Despite the fact that he held no more personality, intelligence, basic social skills, physical attractiveness or physical hygiene than the piece of dead plastic that shared his moniker, a staggering number of women and a men enjoyed having him inside them.
Any and every habit one might consider a hindrance in the pursuit of nubile, young posterior of either gender was demonstrated by Andre the Dildo on a fairly regular basis. And yet, more people slept with Andre in a given week than some professional basketball players experience throughout the course of their careers. The most aggravating detail about Andre was that most of the people who fucked him didn’t seem to know why they’d done it. None of them ever agreed to ever having liked the man, even a little, before or during and sure as fuck not after the act itself. Not a single one of them that Lizzard had spoken to could give a credible reason as to why they had dropped trou for the Dildo nor could they point to a single thing they enjoyed about the their session with him.
Missy once confessed to having gone to bed with Andre. Once Lizzard stopped choking on his own tongue he allowed her to fill him in on the gory detail.
“He was constantly sweating,” Missy told Lizzard. “And that big hairy belly kept rubbing up against me. It was like fucking a walrus. Oh, and he drooled. At first I thought it was sweat until later when I had the lights on and I saw actual goddamn saliva leaking out of that stupid stroke victim looking face that he gets when he’s horny. After that I insisted on being on top. Oh, and the kicker, once we were past the foreplay stage he started sticking his thumb in me. Over and over. At this point I’m good and warmed up and just ready to just get it over with. I kept yelling at him to fuck me already. And he screams like a little kid, `Dumb cunt! I fucking am fucking you!’ So, I reach over and turn on the lamp and, sure enough, that was his cock the whole time. Seriously, I have no idea why I did that.”
“So why did you?” Lizzard asked.
“I don’t know,” She replied with a shrug. “I was horny. He was there and he had the balls to go for it.”
“Yeah, but there had to be other guys around that night. Why him?”
“I don’t know. I…” she paused. Her eyes got wide. “…I really…don’t…know.”
Although Lizzard has never heard a reason why anyone would go to bed with Andre, he’s heard more than enough reasons not to go to bed with Andre. These reasons include but are not limited to the following; the aforementioned lack of hygiene, nose picking, verbal abuse of friends and strangers with a Tourette’s-like suddenness (Once when asked if he wanted carnitas in his burrito he once screamed at a girl working the counter at a Mexican restaurant that, “I don’t fucking speak Del Taco, bitch!”), being a bit of a racist, an affinity with, and obsession for, role playing games of every kind, and a tendency to walk around believing himself a vampire hunter\paranormal consultant.
The delusional reckoning behind that last one alone should be enough of a built in cock-block to ensure a mobile three mile “abstinence only” radius around Andre the Dildo, but no. Every day claims a new victim who wanders into the Dildo’s space and is sorry they did. Lizzard has a theory that Andre generates a force field like Omega Red in the X-Men comics. But instead of sucking life out of his victims, Andre’s force field takes away reasoning, discretion and self-respect. He imagines that when Andre tries to get in some one’s pants their internal dialogue goes something like;
“Holy shit, Andre the Dildo is trying to fuck me. Do I really wanna fuck Andre the Dildo?
“I don’t know. Do we really have a reason to live anyway?
“Good point. Tell the bartender we need shots and condoms.”
Naturally, Lizzard has always hated Andre the Dildo even before Andre started “hunting” him. How a human being of such objectionable caliber could walk ass-backward into so much free tail was a vexing thing for Lizzard, who experienced a number sexual exploits that could be described as inconsistent during a good year. Every time he encountered Andre his mind flashed, not on the countless man hours of dedicated harassment and scorn he’d suffered from this man, but on “the incident” that he and his friends had tacitly agreed to dub “that one time at Clappers.”
Ok, so, this one time at Clappers, Lizzard and a few of the guys from the Pub are hanging out having a few beers when three drunk girls walk in. One of the girls, inebriated beyond any semblance of consent or reasoning, falls three steps into the door skinning her knee. Her friends pick her up and set her on a bar stool gingerly, like they’re trying to balance a wobbly stack of coffee cups on a fence post in high wind. They order their drunk friend an ice water and then go off to do whatever they went off to do.
The second the more sober members of the trio depart Andre the Dildo appears, seemingly from nowhere, and takes a seat next to the equilibrium challenged female.
“Jesus, I didn’t even know he was here,” Sheriff said. “He’s like a creepy, molester ninja.”
Andre and the drunk girl were a good distance away, so Lizzard and friends couldn’t hear what the two talked about. But they were able to observe Andre, obviously as drunk as the girl he was talking to, wave his arms and pound his fist on the bar as whatever conversation they were having got heated.
“I’ll bet twenty it’s got something to do with unrealistic depiction of trolls in a certain Buffy episode,” Missy put out there.
About ten minutes into their conversation “the incident” occurred. The incident would haunt all who witnessed it forever. Missy, who by that time had actually experienced the Dildo in all his glory, would be the most traumatized by the event and soon after left Clappers to go home, hide under the covers and softly weep while reciting a personal vow to, from that day forth, always use her vagina for good and never for evil.
Andre, in the midst of an apparently passionate bit of monologue, stops, looks sick, puffs his cheeks like he’s got a bad cough, then proceeds to lean forward and vomit directly into his own half-full pint glass of Budweiser.
Pay attention. That’s not the incident. The incident comes after.
Once the last chunky bit have finished coming up Andre goes back to talking to the girl like nothing happened. The girl for her part continues to nod and grin politely. She doesn’t seem to notice that anything just happened. A couple more minutes into this conversation the unthinkable happens. Andre lifts his glass to his lips…
…and drinks.
Not just a sip, either. He takes a serious pull on his puke filled beer and continues his one sided rant.
No, don’t stop reading there. We’re just getting to the good part. The incident that scarred the corneas of all present comes next.
Andre keeps drinking his beer as he talks the ear off this sweet, pretty girl who has quite obviously drank herself down to the mental equivalent of a half bright cabbage. At one moment her eyes come into focus and she glares at Andre with a fierce intensity and Lizzard thinks to himself that this is it. She’s sobered up a little and now she’s going to go find her friends and say it’s time to go home alone and sans douche-bag. Instead the even more unthinkable happens.
The girl reaches over, grabs the back of Andre’s head and pulls him into a kiss so deep and hard that her tongue must be looking to taste his spleen.
Then the two walk out of the bar hand-in-hand.
“I’m confused,” Sheriff said. “Some one explain to me how that just happened.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Missy said.
“I can’t tell you how much I hate that guy,” Lizzard said.
That’s Andre the Dildo.
Sorry, fans. I've let you down. I've got a few rants in the pipe that need polishing, but it might be next week before those get polished enough to be posted.
So, to tide you over until then, I'm going to share with you a piece of something I've been working on.
The following is an excerpt from my doomed to fail vampire novel (yes, I'm writing a vampire novel. Shut up.)
The chapter you're about to read comes from the middle of the book, but I think it stands on its own enough for you to pick up the plot and it brings the funny.
Enjoy.
***
Here’s the back story on Andre the Dildo.
He’s a human dildo. Enough said.
Oh, what? You want the long version. Fair enough, you bought the book and all.
Andre the Dildo is the world’s one and only vampire hunter. And yes, he’s serious about that. He’s got the business cards and everything. Never mind the fact that Lizzard is the one and only human being who’s ever been publicly outted as having a nutritional dependency on human blood and an allergy to sunlight so severe that he will actually burst into flames. Never mind that Lizzard has never taken blood from a human without consent or killed anyone. Never mind that he’s the only one the general public knows of with that condition and that apart from having an unlisted number he’s not really in hiding from anyone. There’s actually a lunatic out there who claims it’s his profession to “hunt” people with Lizzard’s condition.
Needless to say, Lizzard hates this guy’s guts. The harassment he’s suffered from Andre the Dildo hasn’t been as whole hearted as the that he’s suffered from some of the radical Christian groups out there, but it has definitely been annoying. Andre’s idea of hunting Lizzard apparently includes posting gay sex ads online including Lizzard’s real phone number, going through his trash and occasionally trying to murder him in public. Once Andre tried to stab him with a wooden stake, but between the fact that the stake was a number two pencil and Andre was too nervous to give a proper stabbing, the pencil just broke against Lizzard’s chest. That time Lizzard got rid of the scared-shitless little wonk by telling him to fuck off. The other time Andre tried to kill him was on the subway when Andre tried to wrestle Lizzard’s hood and day shirt off him to expose him to sunlight. This actually frightened Lizzard to the point that he broke Andre’s arm in two places and then, inexplicably felt bad about it afterwards. Bad enough that he declined to press charges, but not bad enough to stop him from filing a restraining order against the turd.
Truth be told, Lizzard hated the living shit out of Andre the Dildo long before he came down with his condition.
Andre the Dildo earned his nickname simply enough. Despite the fact that he held no more personality, intelligence, basic social skills, physical attractiveness or physical hygiene than the piece of dead plastic that shared his moniker, a staggering number of women and a men enjoyed having him inside them.
Any and every habit one might consider a hindrance in the pursuit of nubile, young posterior of either gender was demonstrated by Andre the Dildo on a fairly regular basis. And yet, more people slept with Andre in a given week than some professional basketball players experience throughout the course of their careers. The most aggravating detail about Andre was that most of the people who fucked him didn’t seem to know why they’d done it. None of them ever agreed to ever having liked the man, even a little, before or during and sure as fuck not after the act itself. Not a single one of them that Lizzard had spoken to could give a credible reason as to why they had dropped trou for the Dildo nor could they point to a single thing they enjoyed about the their session with him.
Missy once confessed to having gone to bed with Andre. Once Lizzard stopped choking on his own tongue he allowed her to fill him in on the gory detail.
“He was constantly sweating,” Missy told Lizzard. “And that big hairy belly kept rubbing up against me. It was like fucking a walrus. Oh, and he drooled. At first I thought it was sweat until later when I had the lights on and I saw actual goddamn saliva leaking out of that stupid stroke victim looking face that he gets when he’s horny. After that I insisted on being on top. Oh, and the kicker, once we were past the foreplay stage he started sticking his thumb in me. Over and over. At this point I’m good and warmed up and just ready to just get it over with. I kept yelling at him to fuck me already. And he screams like a little kid, `Dumb cunt! I fucking am fucking you!’ So, I reach over and turn on the lamp and, sure enough, that was his cock the whole time. Seriously, I have no idea why I did that.”
“So why did you?” Lizzard asked.
“I don’t know,” She replied with a shrug. “I was horny. He was there and he had the balls to go for it.”
“Yeah, but there had to be other guys around that night. Why him?”
“I don’t know. I…” she paused. Her eyes got wide. “…I really…don’t…know.”
Although Lizzard has never heard a reason why anyone would go to bed with Andre, he’s heard more than enough reasons not to go to bed with Andre. These reasons include but are not limited to the following; the aforementioned lack of hygiene, nose picking, verbal abuse of friends and strangers with a Tourette’s-like suddenness (Once when asked if he wanted carnitas in his burrito he once screamed at a girl working the counter at a Mexican restaurant that, “I don’t fucking speak Del Taco, bitch!”), being a bit of a racist, an affinity with, and obsession for, role playing games of every kind, and a tendency to walk around believing himself a vampire hunter\paranormal consultant.
The delusional reckoning behind that last one alone should be enough of a built in cock-block to ensure a mobile three mile “abstinence only” radius around Andre the Dildo, but no. Every day claims a new victim who wanders into the Dildo’s space and is sorry they did. Lizzard has a theory that Andre generates a force field like Omega Red in the X-Men comics. But instead of sucking life out of his victims, Andre’s force field takes away reasoning, discretion and self-respect. He imagines that when Andre tries to get in some one’s pants their internal dialogue goes something like;
“Holy shit, Andre the Dildo is trying to fuck me. Do I really wanna fuck Andre the Dildo?
“I don’t know. Do we really have a reason to live anyway?
“Good point. Tell the bartender we need shots and condoms.”
Naturally, Lizzard has always hated Andre the Dildo even before Andre started “hunting” him. How a human being of such objectionable caliber could walk ass-backward into so much free tail was a vexing thing for Lizzard, who experienced a number sexual exploits that could be described as inconsistent during a good year. Every time he encountered Andre his mind flashed, not on the countless man hours of dedicated harassment and scorn he’d suffered from this man, but on “the incident” that he and his friends had tacitly agreed to dub “that one time at Clappers.”
Ok, so, this one time at Clappers, Lizzard and a few of the guys from the Pub are hanging out having a few beers when three drunk girls walk in. One of the girls, inebriated beyond any semblance of consent or reasoning, falls three steps into the door skinning her knee. Her friends pick her up and set her on a bar stool gingerly, like they’re trying to balance a wobbly stack of coffee cups on a fence post in high wind. They order their drunk friend an ice water and then go off to do whatever they went off to do.
The second the more sober members of the trio depart Andre the Dildo appears, seemingly from nowhere, and takes a seat next to the equilibrium challenged female.
“Jesus, I didn’t even know he was here,” Sheriff said. “He’s like a creepy, molester ninja.”
Andre and the drunk girl were a good distance away, so Lizzard and friends couldn’t hear what the two talked about. But they were able to observe Andre, obviously as drunk as the girl he was talking to, wave his arms and pound his fist on the bar as whatever conversation they were having got heated.
“I’ll bet twenty it’s got something to do with unrealistic depiction of trolls in a certain Buffy episode,” Missy put out there.
About ten minutes into their conversation “the incident” occurred. The incident would haunt all who witnessed it forever. Missy, who by that time had actually experienced the Dildo in all his glory, would be the most traumatized by the event and soon after left Clappers to go home, hide under the covers and softly weep while reciting a personal vow to, from that day forth, always use her vagina for good and never for evil.
Andre, in the midst of an apparently passionate bit of monologue, stops, looks sick, puffs his cheeks like he’s got a bad cough, then proceeds to lean forward and vomit directly into his own half-full pint glass of Budweiser.
Pay attention. That’s not the incident. The incident comes after.
Once the last chunky bit have finished coming up Andre goes back to talking to the girl like nothing happened. The girl for her part continues to nod and grin politely. She doesn’t seem to notice that anything just happened. A couple more minutes into this conversation the unthinkable happens. Andre lifts his glass to his lips…
…and drinks.
Not just a sip, either. He takes a serious pull on his puke filled beer and continues his one sided rant.
No, don’t stop reading there. We’re just getting to the good part. The incident that scarred the corneas of all present comes next.
Andre keeps drinking his beer as he talks the ear off this sweet, pretty girl who has quite obviously drank herself down to the mental equivalent of a half bright cabbage. At one moment her eyes come into focus and she glares at Andre with a fierce intensity and Lizzard thinks to himself that this is it. She’s sobered up a little and now she’s going to go find her friends and say it’s time to go home alone and sans douche-bag. Instead the even more unthinkable happens.
The girl reaches over, grabs the back of Andre’s head and pulls him into a kiss so deep and hard that her tongue must be looking to taste his spleen.
Then the two walk out of the bar hand-in-hand.
“I’m confused,” Sheriff said. “Some one explain to me how that just happened.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Missy said.
“I can’t tell you how much I hate that guy,” Lizzard said.
That’s Andre the Dildo.
Monday, November 22, 2010
The TSA Caberet
Found via Boing Boing. This video has already been re-posted enough times to cause a server crash, but it's awesome enough to re-post here.
In an act of protest against the TSA's policy of using invasive, cancer inducing body scanners, pornographer/sex worker/sex blogger, Furrygirl puts on her prettiest see through undies, stows a hidden camera in her bag, walks into the Seattle airport and tells the security wonk that she'll take the grope down over the body scan.
Side note; this protest isn't just some immature activist showing off. Those scanners can deliver as much as 20 times the dose of radiation the TSA actually claims. Pay attention; those machines are not good for you.
It's an awesome stunt by Furrygirl, but sadly the hidden camera trick doesn't play out as well as I'd hoped. For the latter part of the video the camera stares vacantly at the terminal ceiling, picking up the odd bit of conversation among clearly uncomfortable TSA agents and denying perverts like me of any glorious nudity. She would have been better off bringing a friend with a secondary hidden camera, but, hey fuck it, the whole stunt bristles with enough fuck-you-ness to put a big damn grin on my face.
Hmmm...A TSA themed brothel where customers are aggressively groped and humiliated by the hot security guard of their choosing? Not only would I be a client, I'd be company president.
In an act of protest against the TSA's policy of using invasive, cancer inducing body scanners, pornographer/sex worker/sex blogger, Furrygirl puts on her prettiest see through undies, stows a hidden camera in her bag, walks into the Seattle airport and tells the security wonk that she'll take the grope down over the body scan.
Side note; this protest isn't just some immature activist showing off. Those scanners can deliver as much as 20 times the dose of radiation the TSA actually claims. Pay attention; those machines are not good for you.
It's an awesome stunt by Furrygirl, but sadly the hidden camera trick doesn't play out as well as I'd hoped. For the latter part of the video the camera stares vacantly at the terminal ceiling, picking up the odd bit of conversation among clearly uncomfortable TSA agents and denying perverts like me of any glorious nudity. She would have been better off bringing a friend with a secondary hidden camera, but, hey fuck it, the whole stunt bristles with enough fuck-you-ness to put a big damn grin on my face.
My TSA Stripdown: Nov 21 at Seatac from Furry Girl's Feminisnt.com on Vimeo.
Hmmm...A TSA themed brothel where customers are aggressively groped and humiliated by the hot security guard of their choosing? Not only would I be a client, I'd be company president.
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