This Week in Things That Pissed Me Off! -11/24/06

Ok so I’ve missed a few weeks worth of articles, so what? If you have got an issue with that then you can direct your comments and opinions to my mailing address: 123 I Don’t Give a Rat’s ass Lane, P.O. Box Up Yours.

Ok so first up this week is something that has been bothering me for a while now. A while back one of my friends decided to have her birthday party at this place called The Slipper Room, it’s a bar in NYC that still holds cabaret shows. Now first of all, cabaret is dead, it has been dead, and I am pretty sure that back in the 1850’s it was dying an early death. I don’t see what the appeal of scantily clad women who appeared to be their 40’s who like to dance in tassels to techno music is, and I am most certainly sure that I will never be able to solve that mystery, however people did seem to enjoy the show, and it was my friends birthday, so whatever. I decided to amuse the idea and “expand my horizons of culture” I just hope those $6 beers will be worth it.

Now I am sure you are asking the question “But why go to the cabaret if you knew it’d blow, do you enjoy subjecting yourself to such torment?” And the answer to that question is simple, I do these things so that I can actually have a valid statement for saying something sucked and bitch about it, other then staying home and imagining the suck fest, because let’s be honest folks, things will suck so much worse then you could ever possibly imagine. Which brings me to topic #2.

People aren’t entitled to jack fucking shit. Tipping is not mandatory, its customary, sure it brings in a large amount of income for someone who is in the serving profession, but if you’re a waiter you are not guaranteed a fucking tip. If you take 20 minutes to bring me a menu, spill food on me, burn my dinner, get my drink order wrong, are rude, and are just plain dumb, you will not get a good tip from me, if any tip at all. Why? Because you are failing your job, and people who fail at their jobs don’t deserve to be paid for them.

Now recently I had met a certain female bartender who refused to serve me and another person I know because “We didn’t tip her.” Now I am not referring to not tipping her the entire night, I am referring to not tipping her on the first beer. I don’t tip the bartender on every drink that I buy, I also rarely tip on the first beer I purchase. Why? I just got in to the place, I want a quick drink, shove the cash in my pocket and see what people are up to, settle in, then on every other beer I will tip, and before I leave I will tip one last time, I know plenty of people like this and it works for me well, and bartenders seem to have no complaints, in fact they are constantly giving me free drinks. Furthermore, it isn’t even like the bartender had some excellent service, she slammed the original drink I ordered down on the bar top and half the beer poured out due to the impact so she could go back to daydreaming. Now she should just go do her job, honestly though, any chimpanzee could do her job, open up the cooler in front of you, stick your hand in it, and give me a beer you dumb bitch! But to demand a tip or else she wasn’t going to serve me? I can’t believe how backwards this slut had the concept, she was basically trying to change the rules and serve me based upon how well I was as a customer, and not serve me as if she was trying to earn her tip. Was she on the rag? Did she have a one night stand and get kicked out of the guys place naked the night before? I don’t know and honestly I don’t care, don’t bring your shit to work if you want people to pay you well.

She obviously didn’t even want to be there, and if only I had one more beer in me I could have made that possible for her by letting her boss know how much money she was costing him, because think about it, if she was to act like that to everyone who didn’t tip? The bar would lose a ton of cash. Oh, and if you’d like to know where this bar was, well, amazingly enough it was also at The Slipper Room. See how that works? If I didn’t go out to the cabaret I’d have never met the ho who wanted to be paid for not working.

To wrap up that wonderful evening, I wound up leaving most of my friends early to go home, way I figured, I was having a miserable time why stick around when I could be sleeping. I was able to grab the 1:46am train out of the city. Now for those of you who aren’t aware, the 1:46am train is one of the most crowded trains that run. This is because all of the drunks coming home from the city are on it. The train is loud, crowded, and smells. Random people can, and will begin talking to you, if you are a 21 year old girl a 50 year old guy may grab you, it happens. I’ve had random men begin talking to me about local native American tribes that once populated Long Island, I’ve also had girls ask me to stand between them and drunk perverts. Hey whatever. The Long Island Railroad STILL charges about $8 for this train ride regardless of time and it’s occupants, and the conductor will still come through and charge an extra $5 if you didn’t buy your ticket in advance, but in all honestly I am actually fairly glad I had caught the 1:46am train. The next one to arrive would have been the 2:55am train. The reason that train is worse then the 1:46am is solely based on the fact that the 2:55am train contains the angry sobering drunks who missed the 1:46am train.

Now if you don’t mind me I only have 30 days left until Christmas and according to the consumer market I don’t have enough time to do my shopping, apparently I should have started back during Columbus Day.

Profiles in Bastardry: Election Edition

There are many virtues that the powerful and mighty encompass. Some have charisma. Some have bravery. Some have compassion. But very so often, you find people who encompass the greatest of all possible attributes: Bastardry.

Welcome to my first ever article on this oft-overlooked virtue. Now, enjoy, “Profiles in Bastardry.”

Profiles in Bastardry: Missouri
Michael J. Fox vs. Rush Limbaugh, or, “How dare you play with people’s emotions. Now here’s Jesus.”

Claire McCaskill and Jim Talent are in a dead heat in the senate race in Missouri. Claire has slowly been clawing her way up, making this race the quintessential “photo finish” of all races. Jim Talent is an American hero, a tweedy looking little nerd who beat a widow in a special election. So this election should be a cakewalk for him, given Missouri’s past.

But things change. One of the four pegs that hold the whole right-wing circus inside it’s blood-red tent is the righteous indignation it has toward procreation rights and stem cell research. Because every human life is precious (unless it is impoverished, then fuck it). Never mind that Jenna Bush has probably eight times as many abortions than Chelsea Clinton. It’s bad. And so is making it productive.

Being a pro-lifer, I don’t care for abortion. I quite honestly think it’s a rather barbaric and murderous act. But I also am not a fifteen year old pregnant girl, so what the fuck do I know? So I figure, if it’s going to happen, the unborn might as well work to the benefit of human kind (and wouldn’t Jesus take them in, anyway? No sin, right?) . So I am a pro-life guy who supports stem-cell research. I also support financial aid to impoverished children. And an education system that keeps children from ending up with no other options than to go kill brown people. So I go for the closest thing this country has to a pro-life party, and cast my votes there, with the Democrats.

Anyway, there’s a very real human side to stem cell research. Michael J. Fox, who has made ads for Republican Arlen Specter (more on this later) and other candidates who support stem sell research, decided to help Claire McCaskill with an ad that featured the very real effects of the medication that is used to combat the disease.

Damn him!

Luckily, impotent, corpulent, deaf drug addict Rush Limbaugh was there to teach this terminally ill man, who was obviously a secular gun-hating fag from Hollywood, who was boss.

Oh Rush’s radio show, he made this statement regarding Fox:  “He is moving all around, and shaking, and it’s purely an act.” (Accompanied by, among other things, a video of Rush Limbaugh shaking and moving all around. And jiggling, because he’s a tubby porker).
Now, Rush Limbaugh is no Bill Frist. He has no history of being able to diagnose somebody from miles away. Rush’s position went from “purely an act” to him “not taking his medication” to him “overmedicating himself” (as Limbaugh is known to do from time to time).

Michael Fox responded with class. He simply said that it’s not easy for somebody who doesn’t have the disease to really assess it. Which is much nicer than saying, “screw you, you fat, pill-popping loser.” Limbaugh offered several non-apologies. So how would Republicans bounce back from their former war horse attacking a terminally ill man for showing symptoms of the disease stem cell research could combat?

By pimping Jesus, duh.

In a campaign commercial in Missouri, the bad actor who badly played Jesus in a bad movie joins some guys who play children’s games for a living and the cunt from Everybody Loves Raymond to decry stem cell research (making points like, ‘it will take fifteen years for results,’ so as John Stewart put it, why start?). The breadth in which the makers of the ad miss the message of Fox’s ad is amazing. Fox was not used because he is a celebrity. He was used because he is who stem cell research might help.

Okay, so throwing Jim Caviezel and other douchebags in there to combat him shows that they don’t understand that basic principle. Then the committee behind the ad do something they often complain that Democrats do: us an unassailable figure to push their agenda. In this case, the same one they’ve been using for years: Jesus fucking Christ.

Jim Caviezel spouts out some Aramaic from Mel Gibson’s snuff film, to remind you that he played Jesus, and that Jesus would approve of what he’s saying. Something that shameless actually makes me want to watch the movie, so I can see this man beaten to a pulp. Caviezel knows who paid to see him die so many times, he knows where his bread is buttered. As he sings for his supper, hoping that he’s not relegated to golf movies after the success of said snuff film, he calls for Christians to ensure the slow, agonizing death of people like Michael J. Fox, not just for the next fifteen years, but forever.

Also, is it just me, or should a bunch of fruits who stick steroid needles in their asses to help them play a game not be taken seriously when they start to talk about the merits of medical research?

Profiles in Bastardry: Tennessee
Corker vs. Ford, or, “It’s me or the n*****r, Tennessee!”

You know, the south doesn’t have a lot to be proud about. Anyone who’s grown up in the south knows there’s not a lot to do here. You can either stand around and sweat, or possibly go visit an elderly woman relative who has more ceramic Jesus figurines than teeth. Needless to say, the south is an unpleasant place, made worse by its unpleasant tendencies (most Civil War reenactors come from the South).

One unfortunate tendency, which has predominated the South since it’s inception and continues, ever so quietly, today, is its deep animosity toward African Americans. Which, to me, makes about as much sense as a man in tight shoes being angry at his shoehorn. Sure, the shoehorn may be somewhat responsible for the man’s dire straights. But he must remember that he picked up the shoehorn (black people) from it’s drawer (read, Africa) to help force his foot (the south) into his undersized shoe (read: an agrarian economy driven by free, torture-induced labor). Now he has to deal with the long-term consequences of his choice. Damn that shoehorn for being used!

Which brings me to Harold Ford, who is running for senate. He’s single, handsome, young, and black, with a cool-sounding name. In short, he’s everything the man he’s replacing, Bill Frist, is not. He’s running in Tennessee. Ever heard of Tennessee?

Tennessee is famous for many things, and not just how horrible it is there. No, there are places like Nashville, where circus-bear killing country acts like Montgomery Gentry are born. There are also places like the Grand Old Opry (note the gross misspelling of the last word; a sad reminder of the health of public education in the Volunteer state). It is also famous for (note to editor: insert something interesting about Tennessee here, I have’t been able to find anything else).

But with all it has going for it, Tennessee could break the mold in another way, a way that requires no steel guitars or washboards. It could be the first state in the south to elect a black senator. Imagine the progressive symbolism of thousands of Tennessee farmers, taking a break from molesting their daughters to go vote in the first black man ever, in the south, to become a senator since the situation became possible roughly 130 years ago.

He’s running against Bob Corker, who would be roughly the 1,453 honky bastard from the south to hold a senate seat (though, to be fair, that number includes those from before as well as after 1865).

So how would a run-of-the-mill schmo like Corker stand up to Ford? Would it be by showing signs of some great initiative that would finally bring Tennessee into the seventeenth century? Would it be by making a promise to improve the lives of the downtrodden and wanting? Would it be by setting a plan in motion to strengthen the state, and make it a glorious paradise on earth? Would any of these options be what Republicans in Tennessee would use to rile up the masses?

Almost. But instead they called Ford a n****r.

Not literally, of course. You can’t call somebody a n****r in politics anymore (calling them a macaca is fine until Virginia says different). But there are other ways.

Ford does have a few little quirks that sexless conservatives might feel like harping upon. He’s been to a “Playboy Party” (or, as read by the swaths of Amy Grant fans that make up Bill Frist’s old supporters, something that sounded suspiciously like a sexually gratifying orgy). Perhaps going to a party of this sort isn’t entirely seemly, but any single man would relish the chance to rub elbows in the company of beautiful women (save for Mark Foley, who would prefer masturbating boys).

Okay, fair enough. So Ford is human and wants to have sex with beautiful women. Big deal. I can see them doing an ad about that. So what you get is this: after B-list actors rattle off charges about Tennessee values (while saying nothing about fucking your cousin) and how Ford has abandoned them. Then this:

A ditzy, semi-nude white woman winking at the camera and asking Ford to call her.

Never mind that it was sleazy, and the production quality was solidly bush-league. The subtext was pretty obvious: a vote for Harold Ford was a vote for miscegnenation. Ford, a blacky Mcblackerson, was threatening to go canoodling with the white virgin flower of Tennessee, as he had at the “Playboy party.”

Of course, the boob Republican had no idea the ad was going to come out, and when the negative backlash started, “pleaded” for the ad to be pulled. It kind of wasn’t. But luckily, another ad was ready; this one showed images of Ford backed up by the beating of tribal drums.

So not only might Ford deflower the virtuous white women of Tennessee, he might also eat them or sacrifice them to his voodoo gods. Please. Well, it’s lucky for us that people in Tennessee are too smart to be swayed by such tactics.

Corker’s lead over Ford is growing.

Fuck Tennessee.

Profiles in Bastardry: Virginia
“Welcome to America!”

Okay. Not a lot to say here.

George Allen is running for reelection, with eyes on the presidency. All while brazenly using a racial slur on a man who was born in Virginia (unlike Allen himself, who was born in California). He’s also praised the Confederacy, and has been noted for dropping racial slurs around his friends. He’s also trailing in the most recent Virginia polls.

Maybe he should run in Tennessee.

Profiles in Bastardry: Florida
The proverbial fox in the henhouse, who asked eggs how they jerked off and then bought them dinner.

Mark Foley. Is there anything really left to say? You could almost feel sorry for the guy. Then you remember that he was quite vocal in his defense of children against online predators, like chairing a committee on it in a very visible way, and you realize he was as full of shit as the rest of them.
So you just prop your feet up and watch him burn, and fully enjoy yourself.

Bonus Observation: “Jesus wants you to vote for me, now check out my tits.”

Katherine Harris. A living punch line to the least funny joke of all time. The woman who may be indirectly responsible for the deaths of at least 6,000 Americans. She wants to be a senator from Florida. And she says she’s going to win. Never mind she’s down in the polls by somewhere around the area of twenty points. She knows how to steal an election. God, does she ever know.

Katherine knows other things, too. Like standing sideways during an interview to show off her boobs.

But beyond that, she also believes that separation of church and state is a fallacy. Great, Katie. Go to the churches and tell them to make out a check for two hundred and thirty years of back taxes.

Now, I know what yo’re saying. What about the boobs again? Well, I say get a life.
Just kidding. Here’s more of Katherine McJesus being classy.

Alright, well, it’s five days until the election. Have fun.