Archive for September, 2010

News of the Weird

Wednesday, September 29th, 2010

I didn’t have enough coffee when I flipped through the channels the other morning because I heard the following headline escaping from my TV:

Segway Owner Rides Off Cliff

This happened while he was on a Segway, of course.

This is a Segway:

Walk, you fat bastards! Just fucking walk there already!

For those of you who DON’T live in a nation of increasingly obese, lazy bastards, the Segway was supposed to revolutionize personal transport by completely removing walking from the picture. Dean Kamen invented the Segway back in the late 90′s and released it for sale in 2001. It cost more than $5,000 (U.S.) which means that most working people can’t take part in the glorious scooter revolution. Either that or they probably just bought a used car. Let’s face it; you’d look cooler cruising in an ’84 Honda than you would on that thing. The Segway was supposed to be the next level in personal transport because it self-balances and runs on batteries. It’s supposed to be safe to ride and navigate in most pedestrian venues. I say supposedly, because the damn things have been recalled due to glitches that throw riders off, local laws that don’t allow them in most pedestrian venues and riders who just don’t seem to know how to steer the damn things.

Yeah, it’s all fun and games until somebody sustains a head injury, including the owner of the company. Now, quick disclaimer. The owner of the company is NOT the man who invented it. The inventor, as far as we know, wouldn’t be caught dead on one. (Ba-dum dum!) The owner of the company has. I have nothing clever to say about this. The only thing I can say is, “Dude! The Segway owner guy rode one of those things off a cliff! I mean off a fucking cliff! How does this shit happen?”

We can only guess how this happened. Easy to steer my aching ass. Either that or that man wanted to go out with irony and style. If it was the second scenario, my hats off to you, Segway owner guy. You pulled it off. I think that’s the only way you could achieve style on one of those things. Let’s face it; it’s not the most impressive mode of transport out there.

Yeah...uh...NO. That guy is just going to finish robbing the bank and then proceed to outrun you.

Well, let’s raise a glass and a Croc to the Segway guy. We Americans owe a toast to anyone trying their best to keep us a bunch of lazy slobs. (On a side note, I should post a tribute to the Crocs guy as well. Nothing like ugly plastic shoes unfit to wear to a dogfight to keep you on the Lazytron scooter.) If you haven’t had a chance to ride a Segway, good for you. If you’re cussing me out while cruising headlong into a concussion at 12 mph –GET OFF THE DAMN SEGWAY AND WALK ALREADY. I’m not joking about this. Fucking walk. The innocent bystanders and your waistline will thank me later.

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Everyone’s Entitled to My Opinion

Friday, September 24th, 2010

This one’s just a quickie because it weighs heavily on my mind right now. No thrills, frills or Lady CaCa (she’s so fabulous, though, I have to begrudgingly admit) videos. I’m thinking about friendship, even the insubstantial ones that occur on line. Here it is: I recently got dumped on Facebook by several friends. Why?

My Status.

Yes, it’s just that simple. You see, there’s an ugly phenomenon in this country right now where people attack Muslims for no reasons. Mosques have been burned, groups burn copies of the Q’uran, and thousands are protesting the NOT AT ALL a mosque being built NOWHERE NEAR THE WTC SITE. Really, it’s not. I lived in NYC. You can’t see the site of the future community center from the WTC site. What you can see, however, is a “gentleman’s club” (aka titty bar), a McDonald’s, a site where they shot a reality TV show and dozens of souvenir stands. Hallowed ground my aching ass.

Back to the point. Every day during Ramadan I posted the daily Dura as my status. I did this in solidarity for my Muslim friends, the Muslim community and even total strangers who don’t deserve to have their mosque burned down by a bunch of ignorant assholes. No, I’m NOT a Muslim. I don’t believe in much besides gravity, the Flying Spaghetti Monster and the little lavender men in the sugar bowl.

Okay, I had to sneak at least one in.

People in this country spew off about how they have freedom of speech and can say whatever they want. That’s technically not true, but I’m not arguing Constitutional law today. I don’t have the energy. What is important is that the same people who go on and on about freedom of speech seem to sincerely believe that it also implies freedom from being offended or listening to somebody else’s ideas, opinions, religious views, etc. We’re all granted with freedom of speech in as much as it agrees with what they have to say. Even if what they say is a pile of steaming bullshit.

In a phrase: Everyone is entitled to MY opinion. Everyone else can face discrimination, hatred, verbal abuse or violence. After all, you have the right to defend your opinion, right? Right? Here’s another photograph. Sadly, it’s the world right before the venom spitting minority in the government decided that those bad people from the other religion were wrong, bad, dirty, foreign and too much of the “other” to be allowed to live among the “good” people.

Lest we forget.

They came first for the Communists,
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew.

Then they came for me
and by that time no one was left to speak up.

- Friedrich Gustav Emil Martin Niemöller

I’ve been to Dachau. I won’t forget. I won’t back down. I won’t fail to speak. I won’t stop standing in solidarity with those of us who really do know what the Constitution says, and really do want to defend it.

I hate conditional friendships. I wish I could get full disclosure from those people. “I’m a good, holy fundamentalist who’ll be your friend as long as you toe the line and don’t disagree with my warped interpretation of a religious text.” That would be a good start, then I could steer clear in the first place.

“I’m a good, holy, God-fearing Christian that believes God loves all men just so long as they are Christians who agree with my narrow-minded literal translation of mythology.” That could work too.

“Everyone’s entitled to my opinion.” That is self-evident.

I’m a scientist who has read the Bible, the Torah, the Vedas, the Q’uran, the Eightfold Path, the writings of Stephen Hawking and even some of the I Ching. That disturbs traditional fundamentalists. I can’t tell you what the truth is, I can only say that don’t even tell me you have an open mind if you don’t. In the mean time, we only have one more issue to address, and it’s a doozy.

I’m not trying to proselytize; I’m just saying they’re in there. You don’t want to take that lid off, trust me. The little lavender men won’t be your friend if you keep taking off the lid…

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Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Just Shut the Fuck Up

Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010

How damn senile does a senator have to be for the American people to finally fire his ass? I ask myself all the time. I swear, half the time when I’m watching CSPAN, the only thing I can hear are colostomy bags filling and arteries hardening. Right now, the stupid old fogies running our government are up to their old tricks: not getting a fucking thing done. Come; join me on another trip down the hypocrite highway where our only stop will be where the most bass-ackwards piece of shit legislation to grace our system of law resides.

For those of you living in a progressive, secular nation, that is America’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” law. It essentially bans gays and lesbians from serving in the military and allows dismissal purely on the grounds of sexual orientation. (Click the last sentence to Wikipedia that bitch and get back to me.) Basically it says that when you’re in a foxhole, somebody could be so queer that they prevent you from shooting the bad guy. I don’t know how that works. I’m sure Old Man McCain has some bullshit explanation for me.

This whole Senate thing is the best job he will NEVER remember.

This senile old bastard is John McCain. He’s a Vietnam veteran, and apparently knows first-hand how gays can disrupt the entire unit. Or possibly not. He probably can’t remember; he’s over 72 years old and the Napalm apparently fried his brain ages ago. He just proved how old and tired he actually is by pulling this little stunt. The DADT law is up for repeal right now. He said that the issue needed more debate (Not sure why. Maybe because all those damn, dirty queers keep stealing all the bullets and should always be suspect on the war front.) However, when it came time to debate the issue, the miserable old fuck decided to filibuster (talk that shit to death). Now, I don’t know about you, but if you want debate, don’t vote down your chance to debate you stupid hypocritical asshole. I think somebody needs his B vitamins, some applesauce, an afternoon nap, a place in the retirement home and a fat dose of SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Wait. I’m wrong. He doesn’t need to shut the fuck up. He just needs to actually get his old ass out to that senate floor and start talking. The Democrats need to call his bluff. Look, don’t just threaten to talk the bill to death, I want to see you get out there and start talking for 4 days straight until it’s dead, or you’re dead, or possibly both.

I guess my problem is; I don’t even see the need to debate this. You see, I’m looking at a completely different picture here, and it’s one that Pepaw McCain can’t see. Maybe he needs to re-evaluate his position, or perhaps the old bitch just needs bifocals. Then, maybe, just maybe, he’d see this:

This is exactly what you think it is. Your homework assignment: Stop thinking you know what it says, read it, and this time actually know what it REALLY says.

Here’s what it says (minds, prepare to be blown):

Article 14, U.S. Constitution:

Section 1. All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

Well fuck me; I guess that kind of kills those anti-gay laws like Proposition Hate and DADT. Damn that equal protection, stopping a bunch of prejudicial rectal warts from stripping others of their rights. There’s got to be some way around it. After all, the Constitution doesn’t specifically mention homosexuality, and therefore a handful of bigots and religious lunatics should have every right to strip the people they don’t approve of of their rights.

Article 9, U.S. Constitution

The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.

Fuck. Well, the founding fathers never wanted this shit. They were all saints, good holy folk and blah, blah, blah, right?

James Madison

“It has been objected also against a Bill of Rights, that, by enumerating particular exceptions to the grant of power, it would disparage those rights which were not placed in that enumeration; and it might follow by implication, that those rights which were not singled out, were intended to be assigned into the hands of the General Government, and were consequently insecure. This is one of the most plausible arguments I have ever heard against the admission of a bill of rights into this system; but, I conceive, that it may be guarded against. I have attempted it, as gentlemen may see by turning to the last clause of the fourth resolution.”

Goddamn founding fathers. Well, I guess there’s no way around this: gays, you’re in the army now. Oh, and you better get married before you leave. If you like it better put a ring on it. Just do it while the puritanical old fucks in Congress aren’t looking. Nothing’s worse than some old papaw staggering into your party wearing nothing but a threadbare bathrobe, carrying a bottle of Maalox and saggy old scrotum dragging on the ground busting up your event and killing any buzz you could get off it.

What kills me the most is the attitude of these bastards. Supposedly the men and women fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan are fighting to protect our freedoms. They’re not. Those poor people are fighting Bush’s vanity wars for territory and oil and we all know it. However, let’s go back to the myth that they’re fighting for American freedoms. Who wants to fight for supposed freedoms that they aren’t even entitled to? To force somebody to fight for rights he or she can’t have all because some narrow-minded assholes just don’t want it is the most vile hypocrisy of all. Don’t take my word for it; I’m just another anonymous blogger. Take this gal’s word for it. I can’t be the only one screaming for justice over answering services.

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Posted in Musings on Mediocracy | 3 Comments »

Day on the Toilet

Friday, September 10th, 2010

Here, sit around the fire and we can all tell gross stories. I’ll go first since this is my damn blog and I can carry on about whatever I want. Here’s something you never wanted to know about me: I have IBS. That’s Irritable Bowel Syndrome for the blissfully uninitiated. My friend used to call it the “Shittin’ Nerves.” Every time something strange or stressful happens, I can bank on spending hours in the bathroom. For those of you not familiar with IBS, here’s what it feels like:

That just about sums it up.

Now, if you suffer from IBS, Crohn’s, UC or a related disorder, I’m preaching to the choir here about the importance of always being prepared. One roll of toilet paper is not prepared. This is prepared…

Now that’s more like it.

You need decent quality toilet paper to get through the day with IBS. You can’t use “Hemorrhoid Ripper” brand and the paper itself should at least be two ply. There’s no sense in using some whisper thin shit ticket to wipe your ass when there’s a serious risk of accidentally performing a digital rectal exam. Now, once you solve the toilet paper issue, you have to get around the boredom factor. I always keep a full complement of reading materials in my bathroom. It’s not for you backed up people. No, it’s for those times when I’m compelled to stay. I will not have you hanging around looking up your horoscope waiting for the big splash when I’m out here hopping up and down on one leg. Look, if you’re constipated, the only thing you’re getting from me is a glass of Metamucil, 16 prunes and a suppository. Get the hell out of that bathroom and let the urgent cases go.

Oh no, not you. You stay right there. There is no escaping in this house.

Toilets are just damn awkward and ugly things. They’re damn uncomfortable after a few minutes too. How some people just sit there voluntarily for hours is beyond my comprehension. I’m especially mystified when I go to a public bathroom and somebody is in there taking forever on the damn toilet. Hello? Ever hear the expression “Shit or get off the pot?” What the hell are you doing in there that it takes 40 minutes? Even at my worst I get off for a breather, so to speak. I think the worst are the toilet talkers. Look, IBS forces me to multi-task in the strangest of locations, but the one thing I don’t really want to do is carry on a lengthy chat with someone while I’m taking a dump. I think those that do should invest in the Verizon Endoscopy Phone. It actually allows you to shove a small camera up your ass and transmit a colonoscopy to the person on the other line. After all, why deprive them of this special moment?

There’s no way to improve the appearance of the average toilet. Nothing, not even fresh flowers can hide why we’re all here.

Who are you kidding? That’s not recycling, that’s a reason to move before the property values drop.

Who put that shit on the front lawn? (Hee hee, I just couldn’t resist.) That never looks good. It really doesn’t. Not only that, but you will be forever mocked by the neighborhood children who stop by just to call you those “toilet yard people.” I’m pretty sure this violates HOA regulations in planned communities, and pisses the neighbors off to no end in others. I know of at least one Illinois neighborhood where they are just not going to put up with this crap anymore.

I wonder how much time I’ve wasted sitting on the damn toilet throughout my life. I want to know, but I don’t want to know. I’m stuck here for the time being. There’s no cure for IBS, although a million websites sincerely want you to believe there is. Don’t buy into the miracle cure or potion of the hour. There are still snake oil salesmen out there, only now they operate in cyberspace.

Cures everything, including all those unnecessary fives in your wallet.

The moral of this story is Don’t Have Any Roommates. No, I’m not kidding about this. Look, if you can afford it (unlikely in America, but you can dream) avoid living with friends, family or roommates. Or, you could live with other people, but try to avoid sharing the bathroom. The thing is, you will go into the bathroom, take care of business and lo and behold, there’s only one sheet of toilet paper on the roll. You will scream in anguish, “Who the hell didn’t change the roll?!” The answer is always, “I didn’t change it because there was still toilet paper left on it.”

Still paper left on it? That’s not toilet paper on the roll, that’s one fucking sheet. I’d ask who the hell is that damn lazy that they can’t change the roll, but you all know the answer. In fact, you probably just looked over your monitor at the offending party just now. Yeah, you! One sheet is NOT toilet paper on the roll, you lazy piece of shit! Change the fucking roll, it’s not rocket science. Well, maybe it is for you, dumbass. To anyone and everyone who’s pulled that trick in their lifetime: Fuck you, asshole.

As soon as my ass dries or I get a hold of a tissue, I’m finding you and feeding you that cardboard, asshole.

I’m still here. I’d bring in a laptop, but knowing my luck it would catch fire, burn my lap and then I’d have one hell of a time explaining to the ambulance crew what I’m doing with third degree burns on my legs sitting on the toilet. Life with IBS is embarrassing enough as it is without adding insult to injury. I’ll just have to wait this out. You all know where to find me, only please, for the love of God, knock first.

Too late. Oops.

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Posted in The Wonderful World of Medicine | 1 Comment »

Nothing’s Sacred

Thursday, September 9th, 2010

I’m a total social media addict, and I understand they struggle really, really hard to have standards. The problem is I’m not sure what the hell those standards actually are. Now, this isn’t me pulling something out of my ass, this is Facebook’s own standards as outlined by them:

• No nudity or other sexually explicit content
• No content that contains hate speech or directly attacks an individual or group
• No content that contains self harm or excessive violence
• No content that contains illegal drug use
• Users are supposed to be the minimum age of 13 years. Now, why there’s so much more discernment in a 13 year old as opposed to an 11 year old, they don’t explain.

Hmmm. So, where does that “Pot Island” app come in? I guess since you’re only a grower, and theoretically not a user, pot is okay. I’m on board. Though, truth be told, I’d rather use as well. After all, who else is supposed to quality control the product?

I’m off on a tangent again. I need to get right to the point. I want you to meet my nemesis, and the demon in charge of accusers, liars, interrogators, and interestingly enough, willful ignorance.

Sorry, I couldn’t get his most recent DMV photo or mugshot. I swear those idiots on The Smoking Gun never post anything important.

Astaroth guided the inquisitors, he lives in the hearts of those who think they have the right to judge others and most importantly, he tells us that evidence doesn’t matter. Make a snap judgment based in fear and ignorance; it’s okay as long as you do it with conviction. Notice any sort of trend here among the demons? You’re right! They all have some jacked up looking hound with them and they never wear any clothes. This brings me to a photo recently banned from Facebook.

Okay, I understand, the good folks at Facebook banned it because it displayed the dreaded penis. Yes, I know that we will all die if we see a penis, or possibly faint at the very least. The human race has declined dramatically to a paltry 6 billion people because the penis is soooooooooooooooooooo damn offensive and frightening that nobody can bear the sight of it. That’s not the point. The point is; where are the standards?

You see, this photo protests the Catholic Church’s continued attacks on homosexuals and points out that thousands of lives have been lost over the past few centuries because of attitudes toward homosexuality. (It’s about to happen again, by the way, click here to learn about Uganda’s “Kill the Gays” bill, brought to you courtesy of the hate-mongering American evangelists. Purpose-driven life my aching ass. Is your purpose to get innocent people killed? Good, you just made Jesus happy then.)

Here, let me lighten the mood a minute. Here’s my happy little avatar:

Seriously, I look EXACTLY like this in real life, including the tiara. The only thing missing is a 40.

What standards? They flagged the photo due to nudity. Fair enough, that’s their policy. Of course, they’ll turn right around and gladly allow people to start pages praying for the death of the U.S. president, sites promoting Sharia law (go ahead, honor kill your daughter, that’s what Allah wants), and at least 100 Christian fundamentalist sites that promote their particular brand of venomous hatred for gays, non-believers, the president, any non-white person and contraception/STD prevention. NO, they do not openly and explicitly advertise that. However, if you scroll down to read the posts of the trolls inhabiting these sites, you will see plenty of statements that begin with “I don’t hate gays BUT…,” “I’m not saying that promoting condom use is wrong BUT…” “I’m not racist BUT…”

But nothing, asshole. You’re a homophobic, backward-ass racist who’s promoting the spread of HIV and other STDs. Now, shut the fuck up, because I’ll gladly look at a thousand penises today before I listen to your stupidity, hatred and ignorance. Yes, I’m fully aware that I’m much more stupid than you because I know how to use proper English and grammar, but that’s just a character flaw I’m willing to live with.

Okay, time to ditch the girly-girl, we’re going to war.

Look, if you’re concerned about obscenities, nudity and graphic content because you have kids; that’s one thing. You and I both know that as the parent, it’s your job to turn the fucking computer off or close your kid’s account. Yes, I’m one of those bastards that oversimplifies things by making you take responsibility as the adult in the relationship. It is just that simple. If that content offends you, block that group or individual from your feed. Better yet, do us all a favor and grow up. But do not give me any stupid bullshit about “family values” or “friendly communities” when you will gladly host the groups promoting hate, intolerance and violence, especially when you do it under the guise of religion.

This is your responsibility, not mine, and certainly not a corporation's. Facebook doesn’t have to be an uneven-handed nanny. YOU have to step up and make a decision for yourself.

I hate double standards. If you’re going to ban a group or photo because of a picture of a scary penis, maybe you want to take a look at what’s really offensive here. Oh, wait, I guess if you hate in the name of Jesus, it’s okay after all. The rest of us at least have our intellectual integrity intact. Oh, and if you’re wondering where that photo came from, it’s from the world renown photographer LaChapelle. Click the name if you want your mind blown. Listen to the Old-Tyme Gospel Hour if you still want to be a whiney little four-year-old crybaby. Again, the choice is always yours.

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Finding the Floor

Friday, September 3rd, 2010

I recently moved, and I have yet to find the garage. No, that’s not a misprint; I can’t find the interior of the garage. Someday I’ll have room to actually move things into the house where I live. In the mean time, I’m walking around boxes. Every time I move it’s a brand new challenge as to where to put everything. The problem here is that I keep moving into progressively smaller homes, and there’s always too much stuff. Every move means I have to shed more things.

Someday I will be able to walk through this, then, hear me roar.

Now, I do have my priorities. First thing I did (as I always do when I move) was find the toilet paper. There’s no point in even being here if I can’t use the facilities.

Never let it be said I don’t know how to set up house.

Other things aren’t so simple. The bookshelves that fit comfortably in the last home don’t quite fit in this one. We had to downsize the couch and now space in front of the TV is at a premium. I had to give up the desk I waited ten years to get because there was no room for it. Once again, I’m stuck at the kitchen table or a built in work station made for somebody a foot taller and with arms roughly the length of King Kong’s. I’m still trying to figure out a reasonable place to put the wine cellar. I’d say there’s no point in having a wine cellar if there’s no place to put it where you can successfully open the door, but that simply isn’t true. An inaccessible wine cellar works in your favor because you can put all the good stuff in there and make it too damn inconvenient for anybody else to tap it. Don’t worry about me. If I really want to get my drank on with something vintage, I will go through the effort of moving the table to get to it.

It drinks the same right out of the box. Quick disclaimer: These are not the original boxes it came in. The need to adjust bottles to the proper temperature may apply.

Even though I’m a scientist, I’m not without my superstitions. One of my priorities was to make sure the family was properly looked after in my absence among the boxes.

This is the tikki on the mantle. Not exactly Martha, but I wouldn’t dream of striking out to a new place without him.

In the mean time you’ll find me lost among the displaced possessions in the garage. It’s such a pain in the ass having to move every year or so. I sure as hell hope the rest of the pinko commie liberals manage to help people keep their homes. Oh, who am I kidding? That won’t happen any time soon. Meanwhile, I’m left to deal with this.

That sheet has pee stains on it and holes. I used to use it to cover a chinchilla cage. It now serves as a moving blanket.

I can deal with boxes. I never bother to unpack some; it’s just not worth it. I don’t think I’ve hung a picture in the past six years. As I get ready to spend the holiday weekend working (as usual, but it doesn’t bother me), there is one last thing I have to take care of. I never, ever forget to hang up my favorite door decoration.

That sums up everything.

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The Litter Channel

Wednesday, September 1st, 2010

He’d gladly put your kid out on the stroll, even if he’s only 2.

There used to be a channel on American television called “The Learning Channel.” It used to show programs and documentaries about various health issues, cooking, biographies and historical subjects. That was a long time ago. Unfortunately that channel is gone, replaced by a network called TLC. TLC is an acronym for “The Litter Channel.” You see, the producers at TLC have replaced all the decent, watchable programs with programs about couples with anywhere from eight to 19 kids. Yes, people are now producing litters, and with no other means of support, are whoring their own children out to television networks. I blame the jackasses who watched the tasteless display of famewhoring that was “Jon & Kate Plus Who Gives a Fuck?” Seriously, who gives a fuck? You had eight kids. It’s not my problem, and I don’t want to hear about it. That wonderful, nuclear family is now divorced, the mother has become a surgery grubbing famewhore and I’m sure those kids will be either in therapy or jail by the time they’re 12.

Pimping out the kids; a fine North American tradition since 1935.

If those girls don’t look familiar, they are the Dionne quintuplets. Born in May of 1935, they were the first surviving set of quintuplets in North America and they lived their lives as a theme park attraction to tourists in Canada. This was before the advent of television, so you actually had to go to the compound where they lived and observe them in through one-way screens in their natural habitat—their house. Yes, people cashed in. Ironically, it was not their parents. Doctors declared their parents unfit and decided to take the girls into captivity with the hopes of someday rehabilitating them to their natural environment. Oh, and using them as a form of entertainment for gawkers across two continents.

The Litter Channel continues in this fine tradition with their entire line-up of prime time shows: 19 Kids & Counting, Quints-By-Surprise, Kate Plus Eight (Still Don’t Give a Fuck), and Holy Shit, My Uterus is a Fucking Clown Car. The latest blight on the broadcast ether is “Quints,” a delightful story about a couple of rich fucks who built a McMansion in Texas, decided to implant all five embryos during in vitro fertilization (so…were those five kids really a surprise then?) and then lost their fortune during the real estate bust. Nobody likes being a broke-ass loser, so they did what comes naturally: pimp out their kids. They also have a blog site that looks like a vanity ministry (Jayzus would be so proud) and of course, all the self-righteous hypocrisy that accompanies religious lunacy. I don’t have a picture of these assholes; I think they’re appalling. Maybe there’s a picture of America’s other favorite batch of religious nutjobs in need of an IUD, the Duggars!

Nope, not them. Although I have to say that this slime packed can has a shitload more taste than the people who watch those shows.

I’m a chemist, not a biologist, but I seem to remember from my bio classes that humans are not supposed to spawn litters. The uterus is most likely a single-occupancy dwelling, and can comfortably accommodate two at best. However, there are some that find having a litter quite fashionable. It’s the current trend. Have kids later in life, and when you do, have a litter. Look, if we were supposed to have litters, we’d also have six nipples, just like a cat. I have no problem with people who have kids later in life. What I’m taking issue with is jackasses that have the 27 embryos implanted then whine and cry that their broke and need to join the freak show to earn a living. You people made the choice; suck it up bitches. What I found even more galling is this spawning waste of taxpayer’s money:

Nadya Suleman, having kids by the dozen with your money. Isn’t Welfare an automatic disqualification for in vitro?

This is Nadya Suleman, aka, “Octomom.” Suleman had her doctor implant six embryos she had stored in the freezer after a previous in vitro treatment. Two of them twinned, and seven months later we have a litter. “Awwwww”-ers everywhere were on board with this, getting ready to shuffle donations of diapers, formula and cash to this whore until they ran headlong into the truth. Octomom had in vitro done while she was collecting Welfare and was on Medical/Medicare. Oh, she also had six other kids from previous in vitro cycles which she couldn’t afford to feed and literally could not put a roof over their heads. At the time of the octuplets’ births, she recently lost her home to foreclosure, collected Welfare and used food stamps. She lives in California. Since I pay taxes in this state, and don’t want my money being spent on this bullshit, I think that I have the right to sell those kids to the first buyer I find on EBay. Fuck her and her litter; I want my money back.

Suleman didn’t get her reality show on TLC. The circumstances of that whole reproductive debacle incised the public and got her in vitro doctor stripped of his license. Serves them right. Unfortunately some innocent kids will pay the price for her bullshit. The same can be said for the Duggars, the Joneses and the Gosslins. Those kids will be lucky to not end up axe murderers or on Thorazine by the time they reach 16. At the very least, these kids will grow up hounded and haunted by fans and stalkers. At worst, these kids will become the most narcissistic bastards who ever walked and feel they can do whatever they like and consequences be damned. The rest of us will have to hear about it for all eternity as well, condemning us to a life of repetitive fluff pieces straight out of media hell. Still looking for the Duggars…

Nope, but I’m getting warmer!

Look, I’m not saying that no good can ever come from a big family. In fact, there’s one family with 19 children that was so successful, all of the children became healthy, relatively happy, productive adults. What makes the story so remarkable is that the children were NOT the spawn of a couple of in vitro addicted yuppies or religious loonies. The DeBolt family adopted 15 special needs children throughout their younger years. The adoption agencies considered the children “unadoptable” because the all of them had one or more physical or mental disability. These people adopted them and raised them to be well-grounded, successful adults. It’s worth noting that they did this far away from the prying eyes of the public. They never begged for donations, didn’t want people’s pity and never once whored those kids out to a television network. Big props to the DeBolts: there are true saints in this world.

May I hold these folks up as a shining example? Take that famewhores.

Okay, I’m quitting these bitches now. If I keep staring at these people, I’m going to be tempted to round them up with control sticks, put them in a metal van and take them to the shelter to be spayed. I’m never turning TLC on again unless they give me a shitload of money to watch this bullshittery. However, I don’t want to forget why I’m doing this. Let me immortalize this entry with that picture of the Duggars.

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