I don’t know why Mexico is being so pissy. After all, the kid was already dead, according to the headline. If the cop had desecrated an inanimate corpse, I could see their point. But hey… the little dead fucker was throwing rocks – CLEARLY indicating he was a zombie.
Perhaps they’re pissed, because like all the other citizens it wants to see leave their country, Mexico wants to migrate their own Zombie Apocalypse to our soil as well.
I say bring it, fuckers… They’ll make good practice until the blue helmets arrive.
I slipped into full rant mode while responding to Pam’s comment and realized something that I find curious with regard to texting. I’ve noticed that the greatest “offenders” of behind the wheel texting seem to be equally divided between the genders under the age of say, 25. But above the mid 20′s – it seems that far, far more women text behind the wheel (and perhaps overall).
Seriously, how often do you see a 30-40 year old male construction worker type behind the wheel of his pickup truck working his thumbs over the keypad of a cell phone? Yet just about every time I see someone in that age bracket doing the keypad thumb tango, it’s a she.
Why is that?
I despise text messaging, and my male co-workers (all geeks) are of the same mindset. However, their wives and daughters seem to be texting pros. Mrs. Who is the exception – she’s even more vehemently anti-texting than I am. (Just ONE of the reasons I do love my beautiful, intelligent and sexy wife!*)
So am I way off base, on to something, or just a sexist redneck jerk?
Okay, so one of these is an Olympic Sport, and one of them isn’t. The one that is probably shouldn’t be, and the one that isn’t NEEDS to be. You decide:
First, Women’s Individual Rhythmic Gymnastics, also called Floor Dance, or Artistic Gymnastics:
Meh. Sponsors lined up to include feminine hygene products and No-Doz.
Now have a look at a competition that demonstrates extreme fitness, strength, endurance, mental and physical conditioning, is exciting to watch, and for the sponsors, would pay huge dividends (mostly in small bills)… Here’s a clip of highlights from the US Pole Dance Federation, 2009 Pole Dance Championships:
Somebody slap me! Now THAT’S what I call a display of grace, beauty and physical prowess – and one hell of a competitive event! Cirque de Soleil style defiance of gravity and artistic form worthy of any Olympic Gymnastic event. Sexy, of course (OMGOMG), but that’s not why we would watch it (warily eyeing the Missus), right guys? I mean, it’s a serious physical competition! Every bit as demanding as the balance beam, only it’s vertical!
Sponsors to include every “Male Enhancement” product ever made, including the traditional staples - BEER and sports cars.
Who is with me to petition the Brazil Olympic Committee? Anyone?
Oh, and if the absence of ribbons is a concern, the dancers can and DO use props… Just sayin’.
*Okay, only about 45 minutes, but I had to wait hours for Mrs. Who to go to bed first!
…from my comment over at Big Dick’s Place. Go read his post first, then have a look at the source (sans pretty graphic) USA Today story about the disparity in Red-State vs. Blue-State Cash for Clunkers claims. As you can see from what follows, the whole mess TICKED. ME. OFF.:
“Oooh, it’s a phenomenon, we don’t know why some states didn’t participate as much as others…”
How about because those of us in flyover red-state territory actually WORK for a fucking living! Our pickups and SUV “gas guzzlers” CAN NOT BE REPLACED by little rice-sipper tin cans BECAUSE WE NEED TO HAUL SHIT. We don’t walk to the corner market with our little wheelie basket and ride the elevator down from our 27th floor apartments to hire a cab when we need to go to the burbs to visit family. WE ARE THE FAMILY, and our “market” is a Super Fucking Wal-Mart 25 miles away, and we shop there ’cause we don’t want to drive through THREE COUNTIES to get everything we need in one fucking trip!
We grow and build and harvest and mine the shit that keeps this country running, and we don’t need a little rolling turdball “eco-friendly” thimble on wheels that’s shiny, ’cause our ego isn’t fueled by what we drive, it’s fueled by what we can accomplish every day.
And NO, that “accomplishment” doesn’t mean how much fucking NOISE we can make about saving the gorram rainforest or protecting vermin’s “habitats” or otherwise sucking off some politician’s favorite “cause”.
Perhaps the biggest reason of all is BEING ABLE TO LOOK MY NEIGHBOR IN THE EYE when I see him. To be able to stand tall and proud, knowing that I did not RAPE my neighbor’s future for a shiny new piece of chrome and plastic that HE AND HIS KIDS will be paying for LONG AFTER it makes it’s way to the scrapyard. And maybe it’s even about SELF RESPECT that’s derived from that honest self-judgment; being able to look myself in the mirror in the morning and know that I AM NOT PART OF THE PROBLEM!
Only ONE dealer in my small town did not offend me by displaying old cars at the roadside with “CLUNKER” spray painted all over the doors and windshields. Only one dealer understood how those of us who work hard, pay our taxes and ask for little in return could have been offended to near rage by the obscene displays of greed and entitlement…
Only THAT ONE dealership has earned my future business… And THANK GOD it’s not a GM or Chrysler dealer! (Thank you Moyer Ford!)
Was I tempted? I’ll admit I was… After all, I will be paying for all those new (mostly Japanese and Korean) cars like everyone else, so why not?
Fortunately for me, the government didn’t see fit to put the diesel F-250 on the “green vehicles” list. [/sarcasm]
Oh, and how long do you suppose it takes before we start to see the Grand Canyon sized downside to this glorious program? I figure about six months… Give it until February 2010 when a significant number of C4C buyers have realized they’ve overextended themselves for a rotten deal on a piece of shit car. Then just sit back and watch the fireworks as those new auto loans go into default and we have another National fucking financial disaster on our hands!
Seriously, folks. The Fat Lady hasn’t even begun to warm up on this one.
Anyone who wonders what government run healthcare will be like needs only look at the Veterans Administration. My Pop died in the care of VA hospitals. Not to say that they caused his death – he had terminal lung cancer – but they sure didn’t make coping with the cancer any easier. In fact, they were so overcome by inefficiency and communication problems, he was at times receiving inappropriate doses of chemotherapy and ended up with a brain condition caused by the chemotherapy that they affectionately referred to as “chemo brain.”
Now they’re scaring the hell out of our defenders of freedom in an “oops” that affected more than 1,200 soldiers in their care. Seems a “coding error” in their system caused a letter to alert these soldiers and their families that they were afflicted with ALS, or “Lou Gherig’s Disease,” a severe and debilitating neurological disease that ravages the nervous system and causes a gradual, systemic loss of control of nearly all voluntary muscle control.
Thank God they are not so afflicted – ALS is a terrible disease that takes a great toll on a family.
NO THANKS to the pencil pushers in gummint offices that caused the scare in the first place. This is a fine example of the “blanket” procedures and policies of a government run, bureaucratic healthcare system.
This has to be one of the most unfortunate ad placements – as the Lockerbie Bomber climbs the airline stairs to his own freedom in Libya, where he was received with a heroes welcome:
This sorry fuck murdered 270 people. Supposedly, he was released because he’s “terminally ill with prostate cancer”. Like I give a fuck? He should have been left to rot in his cell.
I hope he dies very, very painfully.
This is why I hate for celebs to die… You can’t go five seconds without hearing it!
The idiot child-molesting junkie FREAK shot himself up with Demerol and his heart stopped. A long overdue “lethal injection,” if you ask me. Only problem now is we have to hear it over and over and over again from every media source and from every poofhead lurking around the water cooler. Don’t think so? I didn’t even make it to my desk to set down my helmet this morning before a co-worker brought it up… AND MY DESK IS ONLY 5′ INSIDE THE FRONT DOOR!!
And for the record – before anyone jumps me for the tragic loss of a phenomenal talent, yadda, yadda, save your breath… That happened YEARS ago.