Fisting the First Amendment

It’s been over a year since my last posting here at Meatsack Central…so, you know that something really good had to bring me out of my blog celibacy to vomit comments into the blogoshpere.

Imus. The washed up, has-been radio guy who just got fired.

Before I get to my rambling point…let me make this clear. I never liked Imus. There isn’t a radio station in this town that broadcasts his show, but I caught his telecast once and wasn’t impressed. His face has no motion…I’m not sure if it’s because he suffered a stroke or if his face is full of Botox, but it’s like plastic. Imus probably should have been off the air a while ago…but, people fear change.

On to the good stuff…I’m so terrified right now about where our country is going with regards to free speech.

What Imus said was stupid. Not because it was racially motivated, because he was fed a line by his producer and blurted out a ridiculous sentence in return that didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t funny…but, it wasn’t a racist comment either. Sexiest? Completely.

The fact that he got fired over this is what scares me.

Here’s what we need to think about…

Where is the outrage over The Chris Rock Show?
Where are the protests over The Dave Chappell Show?
You can buy a copy of Borat at Target next to a copy of Zathura.

All three of these examples are riddled with racists statements and yet none of the same groups that put pressure on any of the producers of these shows or their sponsors to pull the material. (I love all three by the way…Zathura’s ok too.)

We are now at a time in our history where no one of Caucasian decent can make any comment at all about any other race without someone jumping at the chance to call them out on it. But the door doesn’t swing both ways.

I firmly believe that there are certain groups in our country that force issues just so that the group can still exist. These groups include PETA, ACLU, even Congress. As long as we have perceived “problems”, they have job security. If we take away their paychecks, I’ll bet they’d be working a bit harder to truly fix our problems.

What it really boils down to is money. Imus was fired because his sponsors started pulling out…his sponsors jumped ship because they couldn’t sweat the pressure from the activist groups…the activists hadn’t gotten enough press lately and needed a cause to validate their existence to continue the contributions flowing.

Not to foster any conspiracy theories or anything…but, it’s kind of interesting how the Duke case was settled really close to when this thing started up. Huh.

20 Questions Tuesday

So, this past Christmas I got this game. 20 Q, made by Radica. Supposedly, it can guess what you’re thinking of in 20 questions or less. It’s more like 25 to 30 questions, the first one is actually 5 – Is it an Animal? Vegetable? Mineral? Other? Unknown? If it doesn’t get it in the first 20, it asks five more.

I figured I’d start my own re-occurring theme.

Every Tuesday, I’ll post an item to stump the game. After today’s item, I’ll accept suggestions for next week.




This week’s item:

A Keg

1. Animal? No
Vegetable? No
Mineral? No
Other? Yes
2. Is it used in a Sport? No, kegstands don't count.
3. Is it worth a lot of money? Yes...some more than others.
4. Is it something you can purchase? Sometimes
5. Does it come in a box? No...it's not wine.
6. Can it be heard? No...pumping the keg doesn't count.
7. Is it outside? No...not usually.
8. Could it be found in a classroom? No...unless you're a Delta Tau Chi.
9. Do you use it in public? Yes.
10. Is it straight? No
11. Can it be washed? Yes
12. Do you wear it? No...what's inside, yes.
13. Can it be painted? Rarely, liquor stores don't like it much when you do that.
14. Do you hold it when you use it? Sometimes
15. Does it have a hard outer shell? Yes
16. Does it contain a liquid? Yes
17. Would you pay to use it? Yes
18. Is it heavier than a pound of butter? Yes, but less than a pound of feathers.
19. Would you use it daily? Rarely...anymore.

It’s a wine bottle. No, but you're close.

20. Does it roll? Sometimes.

It’s a bottle of wine. No twit, it's not bottle with wine, either.

21. Is it comforting? Sometimes...the answer isn't in the bottom of the keg, but that doesn't mean you can't look.
22. Would you give it as a gift? Rarely
23. Does it come in different colors? Sometimes
24. Is it heavy? Yes...full.
25. Can you lift it? Sometimes

It’s a Keg. Bitch.

Now...give me your ideas. The best one goes up next week.

Brain Dump

I don’t have a theme for tonight’s posting…just a few things to get off my chest.

Recently, the Sci-Fi channel began televising the WWE offshoot ECW: Extreme Championship Wrestling. Now, I know that professional wrestling is labeled as “fake” and thus can be considered fantasy…but, putting wrestling on the Sci-Fi channel is like putting Rugby on the Lifetime network, or American Idol re-runs on the History Channel.

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I went to a driving range to nights ago with my brother. Let me back this up a bit and give you some background…I’ve never played a round of golf in my life. The closest I’ve come is Putt-Putt. But, I got a free almost-set of clubs from my wife’s decidedly lesbian sister.

(When I say decidedly, I mean that she fits the stereotype to a “T”…just like a German in lederhosen, a Brit with bad teeth, or a Transvestite with Clown Makeup. She’s so butch, I’m pretty sure that she’s got a bigger dick than I do. She’s a great person, but man she is a really hardcore lesbo.)

So, I’m not sure what driving range etiquette is, but sure as hell laughed my ass off. When you suck as bad as I do, you can’t help but laugh. At least the large bucket of balls was only $6.

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The Ordinance Officer (Yes, officer hot pants) called the house last Friday and had a long talk with my wife. Yeah…any fantasy I may have had is completely gone now. Apparently, she handed out 50 violations that day and ours was just part of the “rounds” and not because any one person complained. Apparently, she forgets the conversation that she and I had in the yard…I can understand, I have that effect on most women in uniform. When we spoke, she said that she had a “complaint” on my next door neighbor…and 10 minutes later she handed me one too and acted like she didn’t know what in my yard could have caused the complaint.

Whatever…my shit’s cleaned up now…sort of.

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I think I’m becoming addicted to prescription drugs and porn. Not necessarily together.

My wife is a borderline hypochondriac and has several open prescriptions for pain meds and muscle relaxants. Vicoden and Flexiril, mostly. The other day, I got home and thought, “I could use a Vicoden.” I wasn’t in pain, I was just looking to get high. WTF? When did I become Chris Rock in New Jack City?

Porn. Holyshit is it stupid easy to find free porn and get it lightening fast on this laptop through my Yard Nazi’s connection. I consider myself a fan of porn, so much so that I have a favorite director. But, the dirt that you can get on the internet is so much worse. It’s like when I was a kid and I’d find a Swedish Erotica magazine next to a dumpster…no words like Playboy, just fucking…pure and simple.

Whitey Invades Ghetto

(OK, I don't know what's up with Blogger, but evertime I tried to add a link, using the little hyperlink button, it deletes all the text after the link...until I typed the link in. So, you'll just have to deal with ugly links.)

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/13389273/

This has got to be the most racist and bigoted news article I’ve ever read. Seriously. Some of you may not think that…but, to prove my point, read through this and substitute the words “Black” for “White” and “White” for “Black”.

I guarantee you, had this article been written with that take, it never would have made the news and the writer probably would have been fired and sued by the ACLU.

For those of you who hate to click links, here’s a summary:

Whites in Seattle and Portland are now moving into historically predominantly Black neighborhoods, while Blacks are moving outside the city into the predominantly White neighborhoods. So called Black activists are complaining…yes, complaining…that because of the rise in home values that this “invasion” of white, rich folk is causing it’s “destroying” them “socially and politically” and that it’s “a total inconvenience and disrespect to Black folks.”

I hope that quote was taken out of context. How is that disrespectful? White folk can’t live with Black folk? This activist is honestly SUPPORTING segregation. What a fucking joke…and this story got buried. Where’s the outrage from the ACLU? Nowhere.

Think about this: What happens to career activists if the racial divide is gone? If suddenly, one day, we don’t judge people by skin, but by character. Yeah, they have to find real jobs. So, I’ve got a real hard time believing that some, if not most, of these so called leaders of the Black community hold back these people or encourage and incite more division rather than foster cohesion.

Quick Update(s):

Remember the fuck stick sales chick that drove me Nucking Futs one day?
http://cynicalmeatsack.blogspot.com/2005/12/lifes-plot-twist-episode-1.html

Well, she quit last month. Why? Because, we hired a new sales manger who expects the sales force to SELL instead of running up large expense reports. She quit because she thought she had enough pull to threaten to quit and get away with it. Only the owners called her bluff and she left with no prospects. She tried to ask for her job back, but that didn’t happen.

Kinda makes me feel all warm inside.

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I don’t have any pictures of the hack ‘n slash day we had to placate the Yard Nazi. Sorry. I got into it and totally forgot about it. The real plus is that one of the Yard SS troops came over while wifey and I were clearing one of the fence lines:

“We’re still fri-ends, right?”

Outside voice: “Aww…sure, we under-stand.”
Inside voice: “God, I hope you die soon.”

Cool part of the day was ripping a fence line infested with saplings and small softwood trees out with my truck. Low 4 will make the testosterone level jump by 30% everytime.

Kiss my grass!

Fuck neighbors.

Fuck them with rusty fan blades.

Here’s why…

I’m out in the yard tonight, trimming the crotch-wood tree that my East-side neighbor refuses to cut out of her fence line and that blocks my view of the alley that the teens in my neighborhood think is a launching pad for drift racing. Along comes a cute female local police officer, walking between our houses towards me.

My first thought is: “Shit…what am I doing wrong.”

She proceeds to ask me which house is mine and I point to the one with the saplings in the gutters…not the one with the fence-line built in 1920 out of cast iron chainlink and wood.

Officer Hotpants tells me that she’s got an ordinance violation reported against East Neighbor and her fence.

No shit.

I go back to hacking at the bush, thinking about how big Officer Hotpants’ tits could be behind the Kevlar vest and if she likes to play “hide the nightstick”.

A few seconds later, she comes back…this time for me.

So…she gives me notice that my property is in violation of local ordinance 06.08.010 for “Unkept Property”. The complaint is for having “tall bushes and weeds in fencing around property and weeds in gutters surrounding residence.”

I freely admit that I’ve got saplings in my gutters. They need a good cleaning, but I haven’t done it because in the next week or so I’m having them replaced along with the roof. Apparently, this isn’t happening fast enough for the busy-bodies in my neighborhood…specifically the new “Block Captain.” Yeah…she’s a yard Nazi.

“Tall bushes and weeds” in my fencing…hmmm…news to me. I’ll take some pictures, maybe tomorrow, so you can tell me what the fuck is wrong with my fence.

Unfortunately, by the time I do that there will be a long strip of brown dead foliage. Shortly after Officer Hotpants and her Kelvar chest left, I took my gallon jug of AgentOrange and laid waste to my fence-line.

The one glimmer of warmth that I cherish and will snuggle up to tonight like the bosom of a large chested woman. I stealing wireless internet from the cunt that turned me in.

Death by Cell Phone

Rising fuel costs saved my life today.

Kinda different tone than the title of this post...but, it will all fit in a minute.

My name is Kyuball, and I listen to talk radio. NPR, Neal Boortz, Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity, Michael Savage, Laura Ingram, Free Talk Live...to name a few of the shows that I end up listening to. (Any friends of mine that know my real name, just passed out.) I can't help it, I love to hear conservatives and liberals rant. It's a sickness, really. Let me clarify: I don't actively seek out these hosts...well, maybe Savage...they're just on when I want to listen to radio.

Anyway...for the last few weeks, rising fuel costs have been on the lips of most of these talk show hosts. What can we do, who's to blame, Iran must be paved over, Bush is insane...blah, blah, blah. Well, one of the "tips" that continues to be mentioned is to slow down and try not to drive too aggressively and you can save your gas mileage.

So, today, I left work early because my son is sick and took a back road from work to get to the highway. This back road has lots of hills where you can't see over one to the next to see what's coming...so, it's a "no passing zone". Seems reasonable. I use this piece of road often because I can avoid traffic in getting to the interstate.

When I turn on to this road, generally I open it up a bit...not too bad, but I generally hit it at 60 mph...it's a 35mph zone. Today, I decided that I'd cruise it a bit and scaled it down to about 45 - 50mph.

interlude

You know the saying that just before you die, your life flashes before your eyes? I think it's more like a heightened state of awareness. Your brain goes into hyper-mode. I believe that your brain has the ability, in fight or flight situations, to become a mega-super computer that can process millions of calculations in a split second. This doesn't mean your body can react to the signals fast enough...just that the brain tries to. This is probably why people also say that, "It all happened in slow motion."

end interlude

As I came to the second hill, a sliver Buick Le Suckbre, crested the hill from the opposite direction. In my lane...not the two drivers-side tires...no, full on, all fours and more in my lane headed right for me and my little Japanese truck.

In the span of saying, "Holy fucking shit! You fuck, you fuck, you fucking fuck." I experienced a moment of total awareness:

The sun, was partially clouded...and shone through the sun-roof, pleasantly heating my scalp. The radio station was on NPR and the music was a slightly melancholy piano solo. The Le Suckbre was freshly washed and sparkled in the sunlight as it crested the hill. It was driving at a 7%-10% angle to the lane it should have been in which would put it in the grass on my right in less than 40 yards. I'm driving at 47 miles an hour and will be seriously injured if we collide head on. My health insurance card is in the third sleeve of my wallet. The co-pay for emergency room visits are $75. The driver of the Le Suckbre has a cell phone in his hand that he is holding up in the middle of his steering wheel in what appears to be a vain attempt to drive and use his peripheral vision while he A) Finds a phone number in his contacts list. B) Sends a text message. C) Plays Tetris. or D) Drives his car like James bond through his phone, but his controller is inverted. I don't have anti-lock breaks. There is no real shoulder on this part of the road. There is a retention pond on my right, that runs the length of this stretch of road, with a Male Mallard Duck swimming in the middle, he looks at my truck. I apply my breaks at 80% to 90% of full force and turn the wheel sharply. My breaks lock slightly, but do not squeal, the sound is like dragging cardboard over dry dirt. The patch of grass is not too bumpy, I won't flip over, but I may land in the pond after we collide. Water will leak into the cab through the crack in my windshield that's been there for months. I'm still waiting on the insurance company to call me back to inspect my "hail" damage. I'm 15 feet from the other driver. He looks up. I'm far enough over to the right now that he will miss, I turn left slightly so as not to shift my center of gravity too much and flip into the pond. The duck begins to take flight. The LeSuckbre passes me on the left, the driver has dropped his phone, and his mouth is shaped as if he's saying, "Oh..." I think he's going to finish with "...oh I'm a complete fucking moron, please don't beat me with a gas pump handle." I pull back on to the road and see in my driver side mirror the LeSuckbre begin to pull back into his lane, just in time to miss the red Geo Metro(sexual) that was following me. In my passenger side mirror I notice that my tires did not kick up any dust. Probably because of the rain we've had recently.

All of that in the span of less than 3 or 4 seconds.

Had I been doing my usual 60 mph, I wouldn't be typing this right now. I'd be in the hospital having the steering column of a '91 Toyota removed from my colon...maybe worse.

I'm not going to get all sappy on you, suggesting that we all go out and hug our families or live life like every day is your last. Hallmark moments, one and all.

However, I am not going to drive and dial. I would ask that you do the same. If you see someone texting while driving...honk, and flip them off. If they don't look up, pull over and wait 10 minutes...someone's going to be in an accident soon, you don't want it to be you...find a different route to where ever you were going, traffic is going to be backed up soon.

If you happen to see a red Toyota 4x4 parked on the side of the road next to a man beating the fuck out of some one with a cellphone stuffed in a tube sock...honk and wave, I'm visiting your town.

(I just taught spell check the word "LeSuckbre." Aren't computers fun?)

Few and Far Between

I have been blogging since a little before September of 2005. Not very long, but long enough to get the gist of the program and really get a handle on what I like to read and blog about. It all started...

Ok...let me put a little disclaimer in here before people start to rapidly click on the "next blog" button or start cycling through their "favorites" sites...I'm not about to bore you with my history of blogging. I might bore you, but not about what you think I'm going to bore you about...er, something...ok, continue...

...with tpsreports...a blog by a guy that works in the IT department of an office from hell. Don't go there, the archives have been wiped out...but, it got me thinking that I might just be able to write one of these things and be half-way descent. (The wrong half, but it's still a half.)

So...since September I've been boring you folks with my rants and drivel. Up until now, I've been able to avoid the one topic that almost everyone else I've read has posted about at least once. Blogging. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it just seems like when someone gets writer's block, that's the first topic they go to...so, I was really making an effort to avoid it.

Guess I failed, cause here I am with a case of the writer's block and I'm blogging about blogging.

I've got two collaborative blogs that I write for, one you've seen and one you haven't yet. I'm blocked on those as well. I just haven't been inspired enough to write anything...even comments on my other favorite blogs. Ain't feeling it right now...must be the spring weather, but I'm just not as cranky as I have been in the past...which makes for a decidedly un-cynical, cynical meatsack. Funky.

In closing, I leave you with a few questions I've been pondering recently:

Why does the nation care who the next mayor of New Orleans will be?

What the fuck happened to baseball?

(Related topic: Keith Hernadez made an offcolor remark about a woman having no place in the Mets' dugout...a lot of people were surprised by his comments...blah, blah, blah. I've been in a professional baseball club's clubhouse...that's NO place for a woman. The shit those guys do...holy crap. Let me tell you, take a typical frat house, and turn it to eleven. You're damn right that's no place for a woman...unless she's a stripper, a hooker, or a stripper/hooker.)

When is Harry Belafonte going to finally die?

Have the Brokeback Mountain jokes finally stopped?






















(Guess Not)

Why do we want Britney Spears to fail as mother?

When will the entertainment reporters and gossip columnists STOP concatenating celebrity couples names? Bennifer, Bengalina, Tom-Kat...STOP IT, IT'S FUCKING ANNOYING!!!

Wasn't the parade for the San Francisco earthquake just a little bit weird?

Wouldn't you like to get President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, President Hugo Chavez Frias, and President Vicente Fox Quesada in a small room and beat them with the handle of a gas pump while singing God Bless America? (No? Maybe it's just me. )

Would you rather do that with Sean Penn, Katie Couric, and Ty Taylor?

One final comment...

Penn Jillette is a no-talent, ass-clown...but Penn & Teller: Bullshit on Showtime is funnier than a sack a rabid weasels strapped the crotch of a pedophile.