Enviretards, UNITE!!!

You morons. If your heads weren't so far up a seagull's rear, you'd have seen the downstream impact of your whining about oil drilling in the Gulf.

Today's AP is reporting that since 1985, a nitrogen fertilizer-borne dead zone has grown in the Gulf to 7,900 square miles of oxygen-depleted ocean wherein nothing can survive. Brilliant, you donkeys!! So, we save half a penny per gallon by buying gas that contains ethanol, the corn byproduct, but in the meantime, corn has doubled in price since 2002 to $4/bushel. Gee, what else contains corn products? Hmmm. Cows and their products (dairy, beef), anything containing corn syrup, cooking oils, anything else that eats corn before we eat it (like chickens), corn itself. So that means that itty bitty savings we got at the gas tank was pissed into the wind when we drove to the grocery store and discovered that Gulf Grouper, Snapper, Mahi, crabs, and everything listed above are suddenly four times as expensive.

I haven't heard of any oil spills spanning 7,900 square miles and growing for 22 years. Yet the EPA has estimated that some 210 million pounds of fertilizer enter the Gulf every year. If sea levels are rising, maybe it's because of all the solids being dumped into them and not due to some iceberg melting due to cow flatulence.

If the enviretards would learn to leave well enough alone, the world would be just fine. Instead, they take action based on what could happen rather than on what will happen - and then try to shift blame elsewhere when their little scheme backfires. Perhaps the Sierra Club and their ilk would like to subsidize my grocery bill since it has gone through the roof. Perhaps they'd like to subsidize the people whose industries are debilitated as a result of their so-called protective measures, which are neither measured nor protective.

This enviretard global warming myth is truly a religion. If religion was Marx's opiate of the masses, then global warming is the heroin of the tree huggers. Excuse me, could I have a cup of your Kool Aid? You simply cannot look at a ten year or even a fifty year temperature record and claim that it is anything other than an anomaly; there is insufficient empirical evidence on which to base the data to conclude anything else. Yes, there are temperature records for maybe 120 years. There are geologic records from which we can extrapolate certain datum. And there are ice core samples which help paint a clearer picture of ages past. However, to conclude that anything that's happening today is a man made event is nothing more than an urban legend with legs enough to become a religion needing a savior. Enter Algore and his fleet of chartered jets. No carbon footprint there because he is out for the greater good. Yeah, thanks for that, Stalin. What DO we know is a man made event? Upwards of 8,000 square miles of dead water - top to bottom. At least oil just floats on top - it's not like sea gulls are big in the food chain. I have yet to see them at Publix, Kroger, or Wok-n-Stop Take-out.

At some point, the majority needs to get its collective head out of the sand and call these people out for the frauds that they are. You've been duped. Food prices shouldn't be as high as they are, gas prices shouldn't be as high as they are, and farming shouldn't be killing off massive portions of the Gulf. But until enough of us say: "ENOUGH" - they will keep shoving the dry cracker of enviretardism down our throats. Not choking yet? Just wait till next year and you've remained silent.

People: Parasites or Virus? Coming up next . . .

Today's question is whether humans are parasites - feeding off their host(s) until the host dies, or are they viruses - simply replicating and mutating at such an alarming rate that what they infect cannot develop a defense mechanism?

As I await the virus scan, phishing filter, and ad filters to do their work before I could read my Email, I happened to think it's because of other humans that we are so horribly inconvenienced. For every convenience we create, other humans are there to find some way to jack it all up. The horseless carriage! Clever. Put the horse to pasture and fire up the internal combustion engine. Too bad too many idiots behind the wheel necessitated the advent of traffic laws, traffic lights, traffic cops, and the ability to propel oneself from point A to point B without the judiciousness of a horse to determine the appropriate speed. In this sense, the horse was smarter than the rider - how many horse wrecks did GEICO have to insure?

Cell phones! What a great gadget. Cell phones that Email, take photos, access the web, play music, and even siphon your ear wax are all the rage. Yet too bad they cannot discern when their operator is too distracted with other things like, oh, I don't know, DRIVING, to play with their handy gadget. Just Sunday, I witnessed a woman driving on the interstate with one hand holding the phone to her ear and the other holding a burning tobacco stick with a single finger on the wheel, traveling at 70 mph. A few moments earlier, no doubt there was a mascara applicator in her cigarette hand.

This morning, while stopped behind a school bus with all it's signs and red lights aglow, some bearded throwback to ZZ Top pulled out, from a side street, behind the bus which was still loading, then called me an a$$hole because I blew the horn at him. Good thing he didn't get out of his POS Isuzu pick-up truck or my foot might have errantly slipped from the brake pedal to the accelerator in mortal fear. Oopsie.

Email! Destined to put the postal services of the world out of business, one first class stamp at a time. Not so much. I cannot get Emails to people who actually want them because they are filtered out by SPAM filters. I cannot receive the Emails I need because I lose them amongst the other crap the SPAM filters missed. I have to wait ten minutes for the home PC to boot up just so it can load its garrison of safe guards because some fat tater tot in his mom's basement with posters of calendar girls on the walls is sitting there with his T3 line trying to hack other people's business.

Schools! Stellar idea. Until people show up at bus stops and shoot two teenagers. Yesterday. Gibsonton, FL. Watching the eleven o'clock news, I wasn't sure that the bus stop or the subdivision involved was even in the US. It appeared to be some third world country. One asstard that was interviewed could not show his face from under his hoodie, but his name was plastered all over the screen. Guess he's just known by his gangsta name, Masta Monkey Smuggla = or M-n-Ms for short. As such, he is now in the gangsta protection program. The talk show pundits today are speculating that we will need armed officers on every school bus now; this in addition to school resource officers, truant officers, probation officers, etc. Your tax dollars at work - all because Tyrell had his baggies in a twist over some peep dissin' his udder peep.

And can we forget my own first hand experience between two elementary boys and a girl at their bus stop adjacent to my lawn? The two boys, not more than nine years old, arguing over a girl. "Ju stay away from ma girl, cracka." "Shut up, nigga." Back and forth. I sat on my motorcycle looking like Eddie Murphy watching a tennis match - moving my head back and forth all bug-eyed in disbelief. I was waiting for a fight that I would not interrupt other than to call the popo and let them sort it out. I can only imagine the liability if one of them got hurt as I separated them. To hell with that. They can kill each other first. Then the girl, looking at me like I had three heads, says "I'm trying to figure out what that is." "What what is?" I asked out of morbid curiosity. "What you're sittin' on." "This? It's a motorcycle. You don't get out much, do ya?"

So here we are, four prime examples of the new upcoming documentary "Idiots in the Mist." Discovering how evolving from ape to human was a good thing . . . or not so much.

ChristWHAT??

I have a question: why is it that I can no longer say "Merry Christmas" without fear of offending someone, yet I have to warmly embrace "Happy Holidays" and "Happy Hanukkah" and "Allah Akbar Ramadanadingdong" with the gusto of a Ron Mexico pit bull?

Honestly, this whole tolerance thing has gone way too far. Merchants don't mind milking the "Xmas Cow" for every penny they can eke out. Black Friday is actually part of today's financial nomenclature as much as market correction, recession, and trickle down economics. Thanksgiving is warmly welcomed as "Turkey Day" even though there is little evidence that the so-called pilgrims ate turkey and dressing. The President is obliged to pardon a turkey despite that fact that the turkey, unlike Sandy Berger, is not a criminal, has not had a trial (much less an arraignment hearing), and lacks a conviction. All this ballyhoo to welcome in the "holidays" - whatever they may or may not include.

Funny thing. Cinco de Mayo is ok. Boxing Day? OK. Chinese New Year. OK. Easter (the pagan holiday, as compared to resurrection day, the Christian one). OK. After all, who doesn't like bunny rabbits and candy? Hell, let's entertain the clan's old women by having the lil chilrens find colored plastic eggs in the backyard, strategically placed in plain view and at roughly three feet high so that the kids can find them and the old women don't have bladder leakage.

But heaven (I think that's still ok as long as it isn't capitalized) forbid, you should say Merry Christmas. SET THE HOUSE ON FIRE, IT'S EASIER TO DEAL WITH. Some fraction of a percent of a disenfranchised minority may be offended. The PC popo have robbed every bit of fun from a once joyous holiday. 2000 years ago, men traveled for months on end chasing a star in the heavens to celebrate the first Christmas. No, they weren't there at the delivery . . . all those nativity scenes are woefully inaccurate. I also doubt that it was a "silent night" insofar as Jesus was every bit human and probably wasn't too pleased with light and air and animal stink and that water-head drummer boy banging on his tin pot. I suspect He cried when He was hungry and when He pooped himself - just like any other human baby. And like any other human mother, I suspect that Mary was exhausted from the word "go." Meanwhile, Joseph was out in the field draggin' on the Bethlehem peace pipe celebrating the first "Merry Christmas."

Jesus came into the world with a mission. Unlike the rest of us who likely spend the better part of our existence trying to figure out our purpose, He was born with one objective in mind: to sacrifice Himself as the ultimate and final atonement for my chronic state of sin - and yours too. No longer would an innocent animal's blood have to be shed by a priest. Christ became the sacrifice. His death served as the propitiation for my sins, once and for all. Propitiation - look it up.

To that end, I defy you to forbid me this one most joyous greeting. MERRY CHRISTMAS. No other holiday, no other celebration (save for Resurrection Day) has such eternal significance. The day will come that every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. Alert the PC popo and the ACLU now - they'll need some time to refine their lamentations for that inevitability.

Meanwhile, Merry Christmas!!

Stupid People Suck

http://www2.tbo.com/content/2007/nov/29/me-motorist-charged-in-death/?news-metro

Eddie Murphy had a line in one of the Beverly Hills Cop movies where someone supposedly did #2 in the pool and he yelled out "whoever sh** in the pool f***ed it up for everybody." That is so true of our society.

I realize that the job of the news is to report the bad - good news just doesn't sell for some reason. The above link is to a story of a two-time drunk driver killing a motorcyclist last night. Have you ever noticed that it doesn't matter how many laws are on the books, they will be broken? They don't serve as a deterrent. Perhaps its their lack of teeth. Or maybe it's the idiocy of sentencing guidelines. Or maybe it's the damn constitutional freedom from cruel or unusual punishment. Here's a thought: dole out a severe enough punishment often enough and it won't be "unusual." I don't typically advocate anything about militant Islam, but that whole lashing thing seems to be pretty effective. So does hand removal for theft. If judges were left with more options and more discretion, perhaps the criminals would be less inclined to repeat their behavior. There again, if more crimes carried the death penalty with public hanging, stocks, etc., the prison population would be reduced. Nero, that insane Roman emperor, used to use Christians to illuminate the city streets. Perhaps if every city had a lovely "Walk of Shame" with flaming criminals lighting the way, a message would be sent loud, clear, and ah-hmm, BRIGHT.

I cannot count how many times my truck has been broken into and in one instance, stolen. In my past twenty plus years of driving, more than half my cars were burglarized at least once. My house, three times. Yesterday, I discovered that someone stole my USAF license plate. What the hell purpose does that serve? To put it on your 86 Tercel with Wal*Mart clip on spinners? Invariably, you'll get pulled over by the illustrious popo and get hit with having a stolen tag and/or a tag not registered to your vehicle. Smooth move Ex-Lax. I'd be all about allowing the USAF to hunt down the car on the roads and light it up with a pair of sidewinders. That'd be hugely entertaining!!

Some 10,000 brass sprinkler heads have been stolen from area farms in the past year. Why? So the crack heads can take them to the scrap yard to recycle. You would think that the scrap yards would get suspicious, but apparently they don't care. Air conditioners are repeatedly stolen from countless businesses in the "hood" areas of town for their copper. One genius freaked out when the freon escaped in a cloud and he ran to the nearest cop like a frightened school girl. Of course, the brainiac was arrested.

What purpose does SPAM serve other than to clog up Email? Who do you know that has EVER responded to a SPAM solicitation? Responding ought to be as much of a crime as actually generating it. But, the result is SPAM filtering that in many cases prevents legitimate Emails from reaching their intended recipients. You have to advise the recipient to put your address in their "approved" list. Gee, if I have to pick up the phone and call them with that morsel of info, it'd be easier just to tell them whatever I had wanted to Email.

I even learned last night that the teenage girls at my church, who wanted to paint their classroom (which they use twice a week for a few hours at a time), got into a whiny, diva pissing match with each other and their mothers over which shade of pink to paint the room. Who gives a crap? It's not like it's their bedroom. Pick a color and call it a day. Were they my kids, I'd veto the whole thing and paint it blue - just because I could. And all because one entitlement-minded snot-nosed teenager and her mommy can ruin it for everyone.

Pick an issue and I can show you how one rocket-surgeon jacked it up for everyone. How about holidays? No longer can a so-called Christian nation celebrate Christmas (or X-mas), it's RamaHanuKwanzMas - except for the atheists who have to wait for April 1 for their annual holiday. Show me one bit of "good" in this world, and I'll show you how some moron is trying to mess it up.

Wake up, People.

Holiday Funk

No, that's not a new Cheetah Girl song - thank goodness. I've already had more Hannah "Big Sky Mouth" Montana than I can ever take. She's like X-rays. There's a lifetime limit after which your genetic structure falls apart.

At any rate, I'm in a funk. As I look back across my old blogs, one thing rings true: they are laments about stuff over which I have no control and am not likely to any time soon. In that sense, they remind me of Solomon's agonized cry in Ecclesiastes 1:

2 "Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Teacher. "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless."
3 What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?
4 Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever.
5 The sun rises and the sun sets, and hurries back to where it rises.
6 The wind blows to the south and turns to the north; round and round it goes, ever returning on its course.
7 All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again.
8 All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing.
9 What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.
10 Is there anything of which one can say, "Look! This is something new"? It was here already, long ago; it was here before our time.
11 There is no remembrance of men of old, and even those who are yet to come will not be remembered by those who follow.

How sad that the man once considered the wisest of all, a king of countless riches and splendor, the son of David should be reduced to this? Yet is this not where we all should find ourselves when we consider our human condition? Created - from nothing. We have one pass at this vapor in time that we call life. Solomon knew this and he was heartbroken by it. For all his successes, he had many regrets. Things he should've said or done; perhaps other things he should've left unsaid or undone.

I stumbled upon a blog today while looking for my cousin's website. It wasn't my cousin, but a brother and sister in Christ. Strangely, ironically, I know folks that they know. From long ago. But beyond that, their website was a three year journal of God's faithfulness to them. Where I have spent a mere few months commentating on the world around me - a world that is temporal and fleeting - they have stayed focused on the course. The eternal. The foundation that cannot be shaken.

The past few years, while they have maintained their focus, my foundation has been shaken. It's been three years of drastic and dramatic change. Some good, some great, some really bad. I am often reminded that we cannot change our past and therefore should not keep looking back at it. As such, that three year blog reminded me that I should look forward; use the past as a benchmark against which to measure new growth and a marker to remember from where I've come. It was the "slap across the face" that my new pastor often mentions, telling me "hey, dummy, you need to pray more." Nothing more. Nothing less. Commune with God and listen for that still, small voice. I need to pray with those whom I love and do so without ceasing.

I have resisted for too long. The Bible speaks so many times of men wrestling with God or testing God. He was always faithful. And He always won. I think that blog was my wake-up call to pay attention and move forward. God is Good . . . all the time.

Walk with me . . .

Transpoliticked

That's my new word du jour. I liken it to RINO (republican in name only vis-a-vis Rudy Giuliani). Transpoliticked can actually have two meanings according to Mike's dictionary of the insane. 1) adj., origen unknown, refers to one whose actually political beliefs vary markedly from their political affiliation. Ex. calling oneself a democrat when in reality the person is a bleeding heart socialist. Or, 2) adj., describing a politician who cannot figure out which sexual organ they prefer so they use one and dress like they have the other.

This phenomena likely doesn't happen in Iran, because as President Mahmoud Imawhackajob says, this is unique to the United States. However, it has happened twice in recent months, and oddly enough, not in San Francisco.

First, there is Susan Stanton, former Largo city manager; formerly known as Steve Stanton. At age 48, after losing his/her/its job in Largo, FL, Steve decided that it was time he come clean - so to speak. Despite marriage and children, Steve preferred hosiery to dress socks and bras to wife beater undershirts. And so began the era of Susan Stanton. http://www.sptimes.com/2007/05/13/Tampabay/Introducing_Susan_Sta.shtml

Some months have passed and the mental image that scarred my mind's eye had faded. Until today, when it was reported that incumbent Michael Bruce ran for Riverdale, GA's city council seat as Michelle Bruce. http://mj.933flz.com/pages/mainfeed.html?feed=204719&article=2959720

Honestly, if these two dudes can't figure out what to do with their own twig and berries, how can they possibly represent a constituency, whom for the most part I suspect, know damn well who they are, what their private parts are intended for, and what they believe? Beyond that, look at them. Guys can get away with ugly a lot easier than women can. It's a terrible, yet true, double-standard. As men, I'm sure these guys were relatively average save for their FUPAs. (Look it up at http://www.urbandictionary.com/.) But as women, they are butt fugly; as in, fell out of the ugly tree, struck every branch on the way down, and landed in a major bucket of suck.

I can understand, perhaps, having a preference for one gender or another. As a guy, my preference is FOR the female gender. Not to be one, dress like one, or act like one. As such, one might conclude that I am a lesbian trapped in a man's body. Nevertheless, I don't wish to look like a real lesbian wearing butch jeans and butch hair and talkin' all tough like I just wiped my rear with a pine cone. I cannot understand the desire to be, biologically, something that I am not. Contrary to some opinions that may form as a result of my coarse demeanor, I subscribe to the classic Judeo-Christian tenets of faith and as such believe that every human was "fearfully and wonderfully made" and that no person, in their present form, was a mistake. As such, if you want to re-create yourself as a member of the opposite gender or another gender/species entirely, that's up to you. However, do NOT think that you are entitled to hold an elected office as a one-man/woman/thing freak show.

I am sick to death of every whiny-ass minority thinking they warrant special rights and treatment. The most politically correct in our society like to spout ad-nauseoum about tolerance yet refuse to tolerate the opinion of the majority who say "stop pandering to these fractional, freak show minorities." "Oh, we need gay rights, lesbian rights, transgendered rights, wild monkey-love rights, hippy rights, witchcraft rights, black rights . . . " Blah Blah Blah

Of all of those, only one is an uncontrollable genetic event. The rest, arguably, are choices. Gay or otherwise. Personally, I have an enormous propensity to favor females. However, as I have learned the hard way, I MUST choose one and be done. It works so much better that way. I cannot go around having coitus with multiple females and then whine that I need special rights. The only "right" I have is to be harshly judged and condemned for my actions. Period. Similarly, what a person does or doesn't do, prefers or doesn't prefer, should have no bearing on the assignment of special rights. There are human rights. Period. Life. Liberty. The pursuit of happiness.

As such, if playing dress-up and taking your grown-up drag show on the road is your pursuit of happiness, go nuts. You're already half way there in my humble opinion. However, don't expect to be welcomed into public office with open arms and then whine that you were disenfranchised. There are plenty of things to do, irrespective of your so-called preferences that don't involve elected office. Go do that. And stop grossing the rest of us out. I don't expect you to wear a Scarlet Letter 'F' (standing for freak) but neither do I want to have your issues imposed on me.

It has long been time that we collectively settle on a singular, universal set of rights called "human." Beyond that, if your preferences result in you being on the fringes, then accept that and move on. Don't expect the majority to bend over backwards for you. That ain't how it works.

Fetch Me My Shawl

I was stricken by a bit of an epiphany yesterday. Somewhere in the past few years, I became uncool, of course calling into doubt whether I ever was or if they were just delusions of coolness.

It began last weekend when a whippersnapper showed up at our door peddling alarm systems. We don't need one, per se, but the equipment is a bit dated and for some reason, the lady of the house invited the tike in for tea. (I think she thought he was her type from 20 years ago.) At any rate, he told us of his studies in college and proclaimed that he didn't know what he wanted to be when he grew up. Without missing a beat the words "when I was your age" came out of my mouth as though I was some mountaintop guru having vague yet fond recollections of being a sophomore in college. I went on to lament the tragedy of having to decide what we wanted to be as adults when we didn't even know who we were or what interested us. All that interested me at that age were girls, cars, and money. Well, mostly figuring out how to get all of the the above.

My hopes of being a fighter pilot in the USAF via ROTC crashed and burned that first semester when my vision went from beyond perfect to not so much. I was told I could still fly back seat or do anything else, but with no throttle or yoke, my interest quickly diminished. I had no idea of my artistic capabilities or interest in quantum physics or mechanical engineering back then, so I opted for the Speech Communication, Finance, Management track. Speech Comm was great but for the fact that I had no idea what I would do with it. Finance and Management? ZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. But hey, the money was good for 16 years. Well, more like 11. Banking wasn't very lucrative even when the industry was at its prime.

So here I sit, 18 years later looking at this youngster with nary a care in the world other than whether we'd agree to have this nifty new alarm system installed. Insert heavy sigh here.

My favorite morning show added a new assistant producer yesterday that some are saying will be more like a co-host. Her name is Meredith, but I'm sure she'll get a fitting nickname like Skankho in no time. I went to her bio on the show's website to discover that she's a relatively attractive 20-something party chick. There are some 30 photos of her doing what most unwed 20-somethings do best. Partying. I also noticed that she hung out with plump chicks. I guess that's her way of ensuring she's always the hottest in the group.

I remarked last night that I can't even recall the last time I felt like partying like that much less actually did. If it's past Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, I'm happy to still be awake, much less shaking my now-larger booty on a dance floor. I have images of Flubber and Fat Albert in my mind as I give thought to myself dancing to anything but Lawrence Welk's Anthology. I hate Meredith. And Alarm Boy - Caped Crusader of Wireless Alarms.

But more than that, I hate having realized that I've gotten to that point where my cool factor is pretty much shot. I think I only THINK that I am stylish and fashionable now. In truth, I'm probably like every other nearly-40 dude give or take a few inches on the waist. In fact, I'm probably like the dude in the link below: at a concert because it used to be fun, but wearing ear plugs because I'd like to retain what's left of my hearing, wearing cheap-ass WalMart shoes because, well, they were cheap. And wearing a doofy looking cap on my head because all the 20 year-old skater dudes do and they seem to be "all the rage."

Having firmly established this latest epiphany, all I can say is, "fetch me my shawl."

http://www.barzelay.net/files/images/20060324_-_ted_leo/old_couple_at_show.jpg