Politics Bush administration, Christian Coalition unfold revised abstinence-only campaign
Washington, D.C.-
Reiterating their stance that the best way to get teenagers not to do something is to shroud it in mystery and order them not to do it, President George W. Bush and the Christian Coalition of America unveiled their new abstinence-only public service campaign yesterday. Entitled, "Abstinence: Dry-humping your way to salvation!", the print, radio and television spots highlight alternatives teenagers can try in lieu of pre-marital genital-to-genital contact. "You know, like anal," Bush detailed before adding, "This guy over here knows what I'm talking about," winking and pointing to ABC's Ted Koppel, a well-known assman.
Back to school
Child tries on new jeans at JC Penny, mother loudly surmises they're too large in the crotch
Onlookers in fitting room area snicker, boy humiliated
Democratic National Convention
Obama's acceptance speech manages to pander to every single interest group in the country
Obama presidency would benefit red states/blue states, big-city liberals/small-town conservatives, pro-choice activists/pro-life demonstrators, war-mongering jingoists/anti-war advocates, creationists/evolutionists, feminists/male chauvinists, Red Sox/Yankees, cats/dogs, proclaims Democratic nominee
Entertainment
Disaster Movie looks to cash-in on head trauma patients with disposable income
New "comedy"opening todaybets on this small, but lucrative and easy-to-please niche of movie-goers with low to minimal brain activity.
By Gloucester de la Vegas, Gifted and Talented Child, Political Correspondent
Hello, and glad to make your acquaintance here in my debut at “Diary of Fools”. You may have read some of my scholarly works in journals or through other Web links, but I doubt it. You just don’t have that kind of time, and, face it, you’re not that smart, or at least not that intellectual. No offense, and I want to be friends, but I’m just plain-spoken. Children are like that. Maybe I’ll grow out of it.
Somehow, that brings me around to the subject of the Democratic National Convention, now happening in Denver. I was in Denver a few years ago, but I was just a baby, so I didn’t get to go skiing even though we were in Beaver Creek, an upscale ski resort. It probably doesn’t surprise you that someone named Gloucester de la Vegas only goes to (or, more properly, is taken to) upscale, exotic or intellectually uplifting places. My Welsh-Spanish family is ancient, wealthy, renowned and moved to Saint Paul, Minnesota for religious and legal reasons you don’t need to know about.
But getting back to that Democratic convention…just two things to say. First, Hilary supporters, get over it, and immediately stop saying you’ll vote for McCain. You’re lying, you won’t. You’re just upset and craving attention and want to make a feminist point. God, I’m only 6 and I know that, why don’t professional journalists? Maybe you’re one of those morons who voted for Ralph Nader once, or twice, because you thought “it won’t really matter.” Well, it did, to the tune of thousands of American soldiers killed (some Iraqis, too), and a wrecked economy, and $4 a gallon gas (thank you, Dick Cheney…yes, you are evil and it is your fault even though it couldn’t be just one oil-devil’s fault). I could go on but I’ll just say it again: Ralph Nader, he’s now a “wack” jerk and so are you if you say that you’re “protesting” Obama’s selection over Hilary. She’s not the candidate for one reason. Because she’s more shrill, mannish and repellent than my mother after 7 martinis, and all America feels that way about her. And always will. The only Hilary that America and I want to see for the next 4 years is Hilary Duff, and the Hilary we particularly DON’T want to see or hear is Hilary Clinton. Of course, I’m much too young to vote, so what do I know? But go ahead, ask Bill Clinton, though. “Which Hilary would you most like to spend the evening with, and I don’t even mean kissing, just hanging out. Would it be Hilary Duff, Hilary Swank or your Hilary?” We all know the answer.
Oh, by the way, Ralph Nader is running again, with someone named Gonzalez. I guess the insane Indian (Native American?) woman who was his running mate in 2000 (remember, when “Dubya” kind of won the Presidency, the first time?) wasn’t available. That must be it. Because she definitely would get Nader elected in 2008…I mean, there are so many disaffected-feminist Hilary supporters out there dying to vote for someone else and REALLY destroy this nation. McCain-style, whatever that nightmare would be like. In fact, why isn’t Winona LaDuke (that’s the crazy Native American lady’s name) a candidate herself? All of Hilary’s offended supporters would love to vote for her. Oh, back to the topic of professional journalists and their insight…why aren’t they covering Ralph Nader like crazy this election? They did before, he was so important back then. And there weren’t even all these supposed disaffected feminist voters looking for an alternative vote. Nader is in it to win it, baby, not to spoil it. I for one want to know who Gonzalez is.
You may ask yourself, why am I, a 6 year old child, so negative, why do I have such strong opinions on politics, and how do I know all this stuff? Well, it’s because I’m precocious and I have the internet and can open my Dad’s laptop and type. Welcome to the future, old people.
Speaking of the Web, I just visited an “official” Beverly Hills website, and it sure made me forget about Denver, and even the upcoming Republican National Convention in my home town of Saint Paul. Maybe I’ll rap at you about that convention later, but right now, wow, Rodeo Drive. I was there as a baby (story of my life) but can’t wait to go back now that I’m cognizant.
I’m not going to say a lot about it now, you can check out the link. But somehow the smooth, beautiful, self-serving website kind or reminds me of Republicans, or at least people like Rush Limbaugh. Not that he’s beautiful, he isn’t. But the self-serving part, the sense of complete entitlement (which, ironically, is actually an obscenity in the Republican world-view) and disdain for anyone else’s situation. You know, those poor, dirty Democrat people who don’t want to work. And don't have the decency to listen to Rush Limbaugh’s half-baked, pompous ranting. Like I said, though, I’m not going to go on about it. I’m kind of thirsty for a juice box.
But the last thing I wanted to add about Beverly Hills is that there’s apparently a movie coming out October 3, really just a little before the election, called “Beverly Hills Chihuahua”. I am so all-over that idea because I saw a movie called “Beverly Hills Ninja” and it was hilarious. Really, no irony here. The part where Chris Farley accidentally hangs himself while doing kung fu literally made me wet my pants, and I don’t do that regularly any more. I’m just expecting “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” is going to be all kinds of fun, and with some telling insight concerning race and class and wealth and happiness (and not just as they apply to dogs).
So, again, nice to meet you, and do check back to this site. I think I’m going to have a lot to say about John McCain, Barack Obama, Piper Perabo, Drew Barrymore and chihuahuas in the coming weeks.
Every year, for 2 weeks in the waning months of summer, Minnesotans of every age, gender and shade of pasty converge at the corner of Snelling and Dan Patch Ave. in St. Paul to wedge their collective copious corn-fed ass through the gates of the Minnesota State Fairgrounds.
Dressed in the traditional Midwestern fair-going costume of pleated jean shorts, fanny pack and 1991 World Series t-shirt (with its once-robust cotton fibers now faded and worn into a sheer, rice paper-thin material that quite frankly, borders on lewd. Damn, the Twins really need to win another World Series, if only so I don't need to see the man-tatties of a Stearns County farmer ever again), these pilgrims trek to the fairgrounds for one reason: To consume foods which, outside of the fairground perimeter, would not be socially acceptable. Though there are examples a-plenty (i.e. just about anything you can find to drop in the deep frier) here I'm specifically talking about one thing - Chocolate. Covered. Bacon. Yes. I just put those 3 words together (interrupted by periods for dramatic emphasis) to describe an item that people are proudly eating. In public. On purpose. Seriously. Chocolate covered bacon (not to be confused with Big Fat Bacon, which is 1/3-lb. of fried bacon covered in caramelized maple syrup).
Pretty much anything you order at the State Fair is going to end up looking like this.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "Man…chocolate covered bacon actually sounds dee-FUCKING-licious, Blaine. Don't you like anything? I bet you're a real blast at parties. What part of the equation makes chocolate covered pork unappetizing to you? You must hate America, you goddamn terrorist."
Well, no. I'm don't hate America (just our politicians). And I'm not a terrorist (I'm afraid of guns, bombs and…well…just about anything that makes a loud noise. Plus, I fear being part of the foundation layer in a naked Abu Ghraib-style pyramid, so that career path is completely out for me I think).
The number 1 reason why I'd never be a terrorist no matter how many virgins were promised to me.
It's just that, well, at some point dignity HAS to come into play, no matter how much pleasure it brings you, you know? Por ejemplo, it would probably bring me pleasure to get some quality time with my Hillary Duff screen saver and rub one out in my cube every once in awhile, but I don't. Why? Because it's just wrong. And some things you just don't do because they're just wrong. Like eating chocolate covered bacon. Just because it CAN be consumed and it'd probably be awesome if you did, doesn't mean you necessarily SHOULD. Take heroin, for instance. Or an I Love New York marathon.
But, alas, State Fair peer pressure is a bitch. It's worse than middle school. Believe me. I understand. I once ate a deep-fried Twinkie. I knew it was wrong, but, like, you know, everyone else was doing it.
So for anyone who has or is planning on consuming chocolate covered bacon, I will not judge you. I will not condone your decision. But I will not judge, either.
------------------------------------------
Related State Fair note: Where have all the carnies gone?? Walking through the Midway (the place with all the rides for readers outside of Minnesota) I noticed something very disconcerting: the ride operators were all wearing shirts. Matching red polo tops, to be exact. With khakis. It seems in an effort to give the Midway a more appealing, professional and family-friendly look, State Fair organizers are dressing the carnies like Bill from the IT dept. For shame. Personally, I'd prefer it if they focused on their on-the-job meth use instead.
8 gold medals later, Phelps swimming in ass and cash
24 year-old phenom has training pool drained, filled with Cristal, ho'z
Local paperboy found dead on Easy Street
Rare, super-isolated tornado to blame
(Above) Paperboy, just moments before being run down by the tornado. Officials investigating the case are convinced that if the tornado didn't get him, the little kid on the Big Wheel "sure as shit would've taken him out anyway."
(Below) Paperboy during happier times.
Office microwave has magical ability to make anybody's lunch smell like crap
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Intricacies of Public Transportation: Commonsense , Common Courtesy & Common Douchebagary
By: Lucy Parker
I do not own a car, nor do I have need for one. I live in New York City and it is not only completely unnecessary to own a car, it is just flat out smarter to not own one (unless you have loads of money). I commute daily, along with millions of other people, on the New York subway system. The New York subway system is great, for $81 a month I can go anywhere in the 5 boroughs of New York as much as I want, not to mention my daily work commute.
Like anything else, the subway does have its down sides: it can be dirty, it can be very crowded, there is such a thing as “train traffic” that can hold you underground for what seems an eternity, construction on the system (which can also hold you underground), it’s about as hot as the first rung of hell on the platform during the summer (I suggest you never wear jeans , or any sort of long pants during the summer if you know you are going to go underground at any point to ride the subway. Seriously, I haven’t worn pants since early June.), etc. While these are indeed annoying problems, I would gladly deal with any or all of them if I did not have to deal with the extreme nuisance that is a douchebag commuter. It is my opinion that the most annoying problems, are the people who ride the trains.
This may seem overkill to those who do not live in NYC or have never used its mass transit. But, this is a hot topic of conversation amongst NY public transportation commuters. Not only is it a hot topic but the discussions are often very passionate. The list of grievances against the douchebag commuter can be long or short, depending on who you talk to. Although, I must say that when asking some of my friends about what annoyed them the most about the subway, the conversations were very comical and explicative ridden. The following is diagnosis of only a few of the douchebag symptoms seen on the subway:
Last Seat Syndrome: By far the most coveted spot on the train is the last seat on the end near the door. Not only are you one of the few lucky ones to actually get a seat, it is easy to exit the train when you get to your stop, unlike those pesky seats in the middle where you have to barrel through middle of the train like a running back to exit (I sometimes question if I should even sit in those seats during rush hour). Entering and exiting the train is a delicate dance between commuters that is often fucked up by douchebags, but I’ll get to that later. Recently, however, the coveted last seat has been having a bit of a problem, in the form of someone else’s ass being in your face.
There is a bar that separates the seat from the door area. It’s meant for safety, not someone’s ass. Not only is it gross just to have some strangers bum in your general face area, it messes up the seating arrangements of the passengers sitting near you. No one wants random ass in their face, so they start to lean in the opposite direction, causing a domino effect on those who are seated in that one tiny row. How you sit is tantamount to how the rest of the row is situated.
The Seat Wedger: Within the last couple of years the MTA has been updating the actual trains used. While the new ones have fancy new computerized “the next stop map is . . .” signs, better AC, and a general better aesthetic, I would have to say the best upgrade are that the seats do not have the little ass placement buckets. The old concept was simple, there’s the ass bucket, put your ass in it. However, as the years went on, well let’s just say a lot of people needed two ass buckets to place their one ass in. Meaning, less people get to sit down, or, worse, are crushed by someone wedging their more-than-one-bucket ass into the seat. The size of the people do not change with the non ass bucket trains, it’s just that without them there isn’t a set place where you have to sit, no one likes sitting with a raised indent going up your bum crack. Although, a true seat wedger will seek out even the tiniest of open seat, even if it means they can’t sit back fully. If you can’t sit back fully, that means there is not enough room
(Old Ass Bucket Seats v. New Seats. Yes, those are the real colors)
The Douche Bagger: Probably one of my biggest gripes. I feel that an e-mail I sent to my roommate after one particular morning commute sums this up best, excuse the typos, I was obviously very frustrated :
“ I have decided that people on crowded trains/buses should have some sort of rule about the use of back packs. When the trains is crowded as it is during the morning and evening rush hours, it is an extreme nuisance when someone boards the train with their back packs lodged on their back. They get on, find a spot to stand, and then take everyone else out with their ginormous tumor, which might as well be and adage of their body because for some reason they cannot remove it. Everyone in the near vicinity consequentially suffers.
The person standing directly behind the back pack wearing douche suffers the most. The douche and his adage known as back pack do not even take into consideration that there are other people in their commute, and just stand there, their back pack lodging itself right into the back of fellow commuter. Forcing that fellow commuter to be hunched over forward in front of the ever so blessed persons sitting down. And, then sometimes, the douche finds it necessary to act as if they were a child experiencing the subway for the first time, and look around in amazement at the several advertisements that line the walls of the trains. Moving his giant adage back and forth, almost like a swaying movement. Not only knocking the person directly behind them in the back several times and causing them to be hunched even more over the blessed commuters, but bumping the other people next to them as well. All with out even noticing. Even if they had they probably would have been like "What? What's going on? What did I Do?", the normal response of a douche.
The solution is easy. Almost mind numbingly easy. Take the damn back pack off when boarding the train and place it in between your feel while standing. I have a right mind to start pick pocketing these jackasses when they keep their back packs on their backs bumping into me. The End.”
The “Blast”-ards: A good amount of people listen to their I-pods while on the train. A good amount of people would like to keep their hearing. There are some who do not. They blast their music at ungodly levels so that at least half of the train can hear them listening to Yung Joc (sp?) “It’s goin down” at 8:30 in the morning (btw I still want to know what exactly is going down at the mall?). This is actually pretty commonplace, I have actually had mental debates as to what I would rather hear, southern rap or Daddy Yankee.
The Door Idiots: As mentioned before, it is a delicate dance between commuters when getting on and off the train, if it is done incorrectly, well fuck, it’s just a god damn mess. It should be pretty simple, people both on and waiting to get on, should move to the side and let the people on the train get off first, then the people waiting may then board. Easy, right? Well, without fail someone will a) either stand right in the middle of the doorway and not move b) budge through the door onto the train while people are still getting off, as if they didn’t see the group of people patiently waiting to get on. Then the train announcer comes on and is all polite (and you know they don’t want to be) “Please step aside and let the passengers off first”. I feel that in instances like this the announcer should be able to say whatever they want, call people out, “Hey, dick, in the awkwardly tight emo pants, move the fuck out of the way.”
The Stinker: There is usually always someone on the trains, with the exception of late at night and some of the last stops on the lines, but no matter, please shower and please use deodorant. If you smell I can guarantee you that at least half of the people on the train are suffering in your stank. I really don’t care if you state that you like to be natural, that’s fine, then walk because that is more natural.
(FYI, this is "normal" crowded, I've seen way worse. I'd rather not discuss it)
The Wanker: Oh , where do I even begin? The name is pretty self-explanatory. If you’ve lived in New York for an extended period of time, I would say chances are you have probably seen some dude beating it while on the train. This normally doesn’t happen on very crowded trains, so there are the unfortunate few who have to witness this normally very private act on a public train. Even worse, is when the dude jacking off is looking at you.
The Diary of Fools is very pleased to announce the debut of "Only Slightly" as our official syndicated web comic. With "Only Slightly", creator Matt Hudgins has achieved hilarious, understated brilliance. We hope you'll agree. Check out Matt's work every Thursday here at the DoF, and at htttp://onlyslightly.blogspot.com
A Brief Analysis of the World's Hottest Newswomen by barry metropolis
After a long day at the office, there's nothing more refreshing than crackin' open an ice-cold cup of tap water and turning on the news to see the latest in the impending end of civilization, our planet's demise, and Britney's cooter cleavage. The advent of 24-hour news networks brought with it hoards of additional news anchors, reporters, correspondents, pundits, and analysts--some of which, thankfully, are women. And these aren't your run-of-the-mill butter faces, either. We're talking deliciously smokin'-hot babes. Yes, this 21st century gave birth to the ravishing reporter, the electrifying anchor, the consummate correspondent, the NILF (newswoman I'd like to...well, you get the idea). In that light, I decided to share with my audience several personal favorites and illustrate how each has had a profound impact on my manhood.
After discussing the ins and outs of each NILF, an overall score will be given by means of the Boner Meter, which includes the following scores (from lowest to highest): "It Moved a Little," "Semi," "Noticeably Aroused," "It's Horizontal," and "Does Anyone Have an Old Sock?". I say "lowest to highest" but I should actually say "high to highest" because it takes a lot to get ol' Barry even slightly aroused. Just ask my past lovers. So congratulations and thank you to all of these women of the news for successfully starting a fire in my trousers or a regular basis.
I should let you know at the outset that I'm a self-proclaimed assman. A woman has much more control over the size and shape of her ass compared to, let's say, breast size or facial structure. Therefore, if woman has the motivation and stoicism to get her bountiful butt cheeks in bulbous form, she's all right in my book. But therein lies the problem: the news is a face-up industry (maybe chest, if you're lucky). If you're into news, you've got to have the goods in the upper 10%, or you're gonna be stuck either in a DJ booth jawin' about the latest celebrity lovechild or at a keyboard blogging about hot women.
Disclaimer: By the end of this post, someone will undoubtedly be thinking, "Oh, come on! You left out that stunner from KBTJ in Asheville, North Carolina!" And you know what? You're right. As a matter of fact, many hot newswomen will be left out of this not-very-extensive list. I'm simply calling attention to a few that I fantasize about regularly. So just put your dick back in your pants and chill out.
Rachel Maddow, host of The Rachel Maddow Show on Air America Radio and political analyst for MSNBC - Just kidding. Actually, she's the most insightful out of all of them, but she looks way too much like she's hiding a penis betwixt her thighs. And she prefers the vag. ***Boner Meter: Shrinkage
Heather Nauert, co-host of the weekday edition of FOX's The Big Story - You can't swing a dead cat inside FOX News Studios without hitting some drop-dead gorgeous newswoman. It's a shame they have to work for the saddest, most corrupt news network in the U.S. Regardless, Heather does a quality job reporting the quasi-news, and she does so with a surprising air of authority. Her speech is articulate, and her coverage is well-rounded--not unlike her supple bosom. Combine that with her sea-blue eyes, ivory-white smile, and chiseled jaw line, and you can instantly see how I'd like to bend her over a news desk. ***Boner Meter: It Moved a Little. Normally Heather would earn a higher score, but there is a mandatory deduction for anyone who got a professional start by giving hand-jobs to Rupert Murdoch.
Ann Curry, anchor for NBC's The Today Show - The undisputed winner of the M/NILF division. I'm not sure what makes her so appealing. Maybe it's my unresolved Oedipal complex, or maybe it's her interesting ethnic makeup (Scots-Irish, French, and Japanese, who wouldda thought?). In any case, Ann may be pushing 52, but she's as vivacious and sprightly as teeny-bopper at a Jonas Brothers concert. And those legs...mmmmmm...(easy, Barry). Thank you, Ann, for giving me hope that my future wife will still make my wiener do crazy things well into my golden years. Gross. ***Boner Meter: It Moved a Little. She's a little too perky in the morning. Perhaps if she spent a week on the rigorous Barry Metropolis BJ & Breakfast Program, she'd be "Semi" material.
Michelle Bernard, MSNBC political and legal analyst and president of the Independent Women's Forum - Any woman who takes the camera off Chris Matthews' comatose face during Hardball is damn fine to me (exception: Rachel Maddow, see above). It might be Chris's ass-white complexion juxtaposed with Michelle's milk-chocolatey face that makes me want to rip off, ahem... I mean, gently remove that pants suit and get down and dirty. In all honesty, though, her lips are mesmerizing. She almost always has that porn star lip gloss on, and I sometimes wonder if she's sporting 7-inch platforms under the news desk. One can only hope... ***Boner Meter: Semi.
Lauren Sanchez, co-anchor for the My13 News (FOX) in Los Angeles - You know when you're in the middle of a great pornographic movie and your frat brother starts talking during the money shot? Pretty annoying, right? So I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Wait, let's first cheers our PBRs. ***Boner Meter: Noticeably Aroused. It could have been higher, but she has a kid with Kansas City Chiefs tight end Tony Gonzalez. Talk about a tough act to follow.
Julie Banderas, host of the weekend edition of FOX's The Big Story - Chalk another one up for FOX. Damnit. Ah well...Best known for her cat-fight with crazy-person protester Shirley Phelps-Roper, Julie had her nationwide newscasting just over three years ago and has been making my dinghy tingle ever since. She also scratches that ethnic-woman itch I've had since that extended weekend in Cabo. (Not literally an itch from an ethnic woman. A metaphoric one.) In other news, her last name is actually Bidwell, not Banderas. Sounds like someone has an affinity for Mr. Antonio Banderas. Great, me too. Or she could be wanting to outwardly express she is of Latina descent. I like the former. ***Boner Meter: Noticeably Aroused. Her sass coupled with her beauty is crippling. She would have a perfect score, but the FOX rule is in effect (see: Nauert). Olivia Zaleski, Huffington Post environmental columnist - I've got to hand it to a woman who makes her life's work in the "green" movement. This young buttercup is fresh out of college, and her innocence is reeks like a Victoria Secret perfume. Olivia is actually the inspiration behind this post. She is what I like to call good breeding stock--someone with whom you might not necessarily "get along" or "be compatible" but rather someone with whom you'd produce impeccable offspring (mostly thanks to her). You know, those blonde-haired, blue-eyed types the Nazis raved about. And judging by her apparent Polish ancestry, our kids would demand a diet filled with the finest beers and sausages in all the lands. Beautiful. ***Boner Meter: It's Horizontal. She does say "ummm" a tad too often. And that's, like, not cool.
Melissa Theuriau- Melissa and I got off to a great start, and then I found out she's French. There's only so much respect I can hold for a population who has an enormous phallus as their country's most recognizable landmark. But then, as if she were a siren of the Greek Isles, her newscast sucked me into this weird love trance. It's almost like flowers and sunshine flow from her mouth as she speaks. I mean, I was so transfixed the first time I saw her, I watched her deliver the news in French for four minutes without even noticing any time had gone by (give it a try; check out the video below). Language aside, she's got that perfect-ten natural beauty...just an all-encompassing, boner-riffic beauty. And for anyone that disagrees, I suggest you check to make sure your balls are still attached to your body. Plus, she's probably into the European-style hairy dudes, which is of particular interest to any of us who can braid our ass hair. ***Boner Meter: Does Anyone Have an Old Sock? Do a YouTube search of Melissa. Aaaaannnd, you're welcome.
Lara Logan, CBS's Chief Foreign Affairs Correspondent - I first fell in love with Lara when she dropped an f-bomb The Daily Show (June 17, 2008 episode). That was also the episode in which she stated she'd want to "blow her brains out" if she watched any news in the United States. Despite the comment's justification, she still, of course, caught heat from the general public and mass media. Don't worry, Lara honey. I'll never judge you with such superficiality. How could I? With her enticing South African accent, cougar-like quality (she's 37), stunning swimsuit-model body, and dirty sailor mouth, she's an embodiment of the perfect woman. (Except she got knocked up by some contractor while filing reports in Iraq, but those are mere footnotes.) ***Boner Meter: Does Anyone Have an Old Sock? Hey, she may be preggers, but that just means she has no reservations about pre-marital sex. A-O.K.
Well, that about wraps it up. Happy viewing, friends.
…that my funeral be made the creepiest, most unbearably uncomfortable experience for all who attend:
From AP SAN JUAN, Puerto Rico (AP) — A Puerto Rican man has been granted his wish to remain standing — even in death.
A funeral home used a special embalming treatment to keep the corpse of 24-year-old Angel Pantoja Medina standing upright for his three-day wake.
Dressed in a Yankees baseball cap and sunglasses, Pantoja was mourned by relatives while propped upright in his mother's living room.
His brother Carlos told the El Nuevo Dia newspaper the victim had long said he wanted to be upright for his own wake: "He wanted to be happy, standing."
The owner of the Marin Funeral Home, Damaris Marin, told The Associated Press the mother asked him to fulfill her dead son's last wish.
Pantoja was found dead Friday underneath a bridge in San Juan and buried Monday. Police are investigating.
The DoF has learned that in addition to this off-beat request, Pantoja also requested his dead body be carted around by Jonathan Silverman and Andrew McCarthy during a post-wake blowout at his beach house. Weird.
"This must never happen again, therefore we must never forget"
Michael Bolton museum opens with aim towards preventing further musical atrocities
Unfortunate birthmark shaped like Bin Laden sodomizing the Statue of Liberty may cost McCain election
Senate Subcommittee set to investigate when, exactly, Eddie Murphy stopped being funny From Raw to Norbit: "What the fuck happened," asks subcommittee chair Sen. Arlen Specter
Behind the Curverevisits movies, music and television programs-some acclaimed, some not-so-acclaimed-and reviews them with the assistance of the most harshly unbiased judge of them all: Time. Leading off is Q-Tip's first post-Tribe album, 1999's Amplified.
Club Banger. Urban Dictionary, theInterweb's definitive dictionary for slang and crude-yet-comical sexual acts, defines it as such: a term "used to describe a song to get all da bitches in the club movin. a song that makes you jump at a party."
They also define the term "Abe Lincoln" thusly: "When an unconscious person gets jizzed on their face, gets their pubes cut and applied to their face to form a beard, then adorned with a top hat."
ex: The last time a gang of transexuals Abe Lincolned Stump, he was pickin various shades of pubes from his teeth for a week!
Eloquently put. Anyway, "club banger" just so happens to be the proper label for a large percentage of Kamaal "Q-Tip" Fareed's first solo effort a year after Tribe's traumatic 1998 break-up ("it's not you Phife-Dog, it's me..."), Amplified.
For hip-hop heads such as myself, A Tribe Called Quest deciding to go splitsville was a scarring ordeal. Though, the way they decided to make the announcement only made it worse ("amplified" it, if you will), as Mr. Fareed, Phife-Diggy the 5 Footer and Ali Shaheed Muhammad shared their planned separation on stage during the '98 tour that had the Queens natives performing with the Beastie Boys, a dream pairing if there ever was one. (In fact, for me, the announcement of this tour was subsequently followed by several solid weeks of nocturnal emissions, but again, I digress.)
So, as you can see, the timing of their announcement was basically the equivalent of your parents telling you they're getting a divorce JUUUUSST moments before you're about ready to rip into your first Christmas present. Only worse. At least you know your parents are probably wrong for each other, plus now you'll have two Christmas'. But Tribe? Tribe was so right together.
<<-- Why are you guys getting a divorce? Is it because you don't love me anymore?
Anyway, so you can imagine how hard this was for ATCQ fans. And only a year later, Q-Tip comes out with his solo album. Man, how 'bout some time to heal, dude? Well, as it turns out, Amplified would prove to be the the hottest club banger that all the P-Diddies and Benzinos in the game couldn't even come close to touching. Sadly, I only realized this several months ago after dusting off my copy - correction, my wife's copy - (Yeah, like most things, she was waaaay ahead of me on this one, too).
Because, you see, I was still too hurt to accept anything from Q-Tip that wasn't another Tribe track, no matter how butter it happened to be. It's like freshly-divorced dad hooking you up with a shiny, brand-new bike on his weekend visit. Just replace "bike" with the "bangin'-est club banger that ever banged the club".
Q-Tip: What's the matter, son? Don't you like your new bike? Me: Yeah…I guess I like it OK Q-Tip: "You like it OK?" I don't understand, it's the bike you've been asking for all this time. What would you rather have? Me: I…I just wish you and me and Phife and Ali Shaheed could be back together. You know, like it used to be. Q-Tip: Oh. Oh, son. You know it can't ever be like that again. We all still love you, but…but it can't ever be like it used to be. Me: I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU AND THIS STUPID BIKE! I WISH I WAS NEVER BORN! (bike gets thrown in the back of the garage and gathers dust to be remembered only as a symbol of everything you once held dear, now shattered ). Yeah. Yeah. Exactly like that. So for years, a perfectly hot joint collected dust, the scorn of a broken hip-hop home keeping it from ever being appreciated and enjoyed, as multitudes of inferior work spun around my disc player. Wrongly, I bitterly discounted it - like many did - as a shallow, insignificant footnote in the history of the Tribe.
And lyrically, to a certain degree, those that deride the album for being shallow have somewhat of a point. This isn't the Abstract-waxing poetic-Midnight Marauders shit. This is some "Jeeps, booty and beats" shit. And more booty. Followed by more beats. And then some more booty. But that doesn't make this work any less impressive. You could make the argument that Q-Tip rides the beat better on this album than anything in the ATCQ catalog. And it doesn't hurt that 99% of those beats are being produced by the late, legendary J-Dilla. What the duo known as The Ummah came up with, was...well, booty. Booty, as in treasure, that is.
Amplified's muse ---->
You may remember some of the album's popular singles at the time. And they still hold up. Go ahead, try not to nod your head. I dares ya:
Every two years the people of the various countries of the world gather in random cities to express their feelings of nationalism under the cover of official Olympic sporting events. This year’s Olympic opening ceremony lasted nearly 4 hours, cost approximately $100 million (although I have heard as high as $300 million), and was viewed by 1 billion people (that is approx. 15 % of the world’s population!). I didn’t watch the whole thing, I just caught the never-ending replay of the highlights, my favorite part was when the Chinese athlete selected to light the Olympic flame was hoisted into the air by wires and appeared to be running on air in his ascent to light the torch. All of this seems a bit over the top, don’t you think?
Call me Debbie Downer, but I personally think that all this man power, invested time, and ridiculous amount of money could have been put to better use. But hey, I’m not going to lie, I am a huge sports fan and enjoy the Olympics, they could just do without all the ceremonial bull. No, I do not want to watch acrobats create some work of art on a state of the art LCD screen, I want to watch the world’s top athletes duke it out, maybe chant a little “USA!”.
With that being said, there was a poll conducted asking people which Olympic sporting event they were looking forward to the most, 45% responded gymnastics, followed by swimming, etc. (actual numbers not really known, I made that up). WRONG! Yeah, yeah, yeah it’s nice to see Michael Phelps get his 27th gold medal and all but what I really want to see is Race Walking. That is correct, Race Walking is actually an event which holds world-wide standings and can earn an Olympic medal.
Race Walking is listed under the athletics category along with all that other less entertaining track and field crap. It is a long distance event where the competitor must have one foot on the ground at all times, the back toe cannot leave the ground until the front heel has made contact with the ground. On top of that, the leg that is in contact with the ground must remain straight until the body passes over it (thank you Wikipedia). There are judges present to make certain these rules are followed. It is quite the sight to see.
This is nothing to knock though. The top race walkers can cover a mile in less than 7 minutes. I consider it outstanding when people can run a mile in 7 minutes. And to top that, the events raced are no short distance, 12.4 miles being the shortest Olympic event. Men’s race walking became an Olympic event in 1904, and after several years of petitioning women’s race walking became an event in 1992. People actually actively sought to make this a women’s event! Imagine the plight of these women race walkers, standing in front of the IOC pleading their case. They should make a movie out of it. It’s not like they haven’t made movies about this sport before.
1966’s “Walk Don’t Run” starred Cary mother effin Grant in his last feature film ever. Okay, so the movie isn’t entirely about the sport, but one of the main characters plays a race walker too embarrassed to state which Olympic event he is in. Don’t be embarrassed, shout that shit from the roof tops. You are a top athlete in possibly the most entertaining Olympic event. Why is this not advertised more? Sure the Olympic Basketball team gets a commercial of them playing while Marvin Gaye sings the American national anthem, but what do Race Walkers get? They get mocked by Mr. T himself.
Fortunately, there is a website dedicated entirely to the sport. http://www.racewalk.com/. They actually have books, DVDs, t-shirts, etc. Even better the DVD is actually a collection of videos intended to be used as a training tool. You too can “Race Walk Like a Champion”!
At this year’s Summer Olympics it’s not so much as to what happens on the field of play, but what happens off. While doing my daily scanning of celebrity gossip websites I came upon this photo shown below.
The picture of the Spanish National Basketball team in a promo shot for the 2008 Olympics. The members of the Spanish National team are indeed using a racially derogative gesture by using their forefingers to “squint” their eyes. Oh, and did I mention that this year’s Olympics are being held in Beijing, China?
Interestingly, no one in Spain initiated the deserved criticism of the nationally run ad. Spanish sports history has had its fair share of racism. With the most recent and noted occurrence happening when the Spanish national soccer team coach referred to soccer great and FC Barcelona player, Thierry Henry, as a “black shit”. However, the majority of these instances go unnoticed to those living outside the sphere European sport world. I don't know what marketing genius was behind this ad, but it won't go unnoticed for long in the sphere of Olympic sports.
The Spaniards are set to play China tomorrow, August 12th. I would like to see a Chinese rebuttal promo. I imagine it having something to do with the Euro-mullet and those damn Alladin pants.
Beijing, China- As the 29th Olympiad start in China, the dominance of American Athletics stands out as one of the few things that cannot be tainted or compromised by an otherwise ineffective government. While the US's Economic and Diplomatic strength may have come under justifyable scrutiny lately, the country's vast representation in this year's Olympic games is a pungent reminder of past glory.
America, Fuck Yah!
This supremacy is typified no more gracefully than the Beach Volleyball Dynamo that is Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh. The duo of May-Treanor/Walsh haven't lost in like 160 years or something. They are basically the Ming Dynasty of tight spandex bikini bottoms. God bless them for that.
Bush - not satisfied with merely sinking our dollar and historic US foreign policy - went abroad to China to jinx the shit out of our beloved athletes.
When visiting the defending Beach Volleyball champs, Misty May Traenor (pictured in a pre-fecal pose,) challenged Bush to greet her in a typical greeting for volleyball players, the traditional ass-pat. Bush, sensing it'd be on The Daily Show for years to come initially declined. However, after having a few Bud Lights and realizing he's got about 3 months left to be the big guy, he back-handed May like the Patriot act did to our indivdiual liberties.
For about 30 seconds, I wanted to be George W. Bush.
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Oh, by the way, Ralph Nader is running again, with someone named Gonzalez. I guess the insane Indian (Native American?) woman who was his running mate in 2000 (remember, when “Dubya” 
So, again, nice to meet you, and do check back to this site. I think I’m going to have a lot to say about John McCain, Barack Obama, Piper Perabo, Drew Barrymore and chihuahuas in the coming weeks. 
I need a Tilt-A-Whirl operator…
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