I’m a Bloody Genius

 Filed under: General — @ Jun 4th, 2008

I flew first class to Denver a week ago, which was a great experience. I’m going to San Francisco in a few weeks and am flying economy, which will not be a great experience.

While buying the tickets, United offered me an extra 5 inches of leg room for $19 each way. I passed, but not before considering what other upgrades I might go for.

As I was picking out my seats, I wondered what terrible neighbors I might have. Would it be the 400 pound guy that didn’t buy two seats for himself? Or, might it be the foreign grandfather with stanky-ass breath? It occurred to me that I would probably pay extra to have stats about the other people on the plane that had already booked. Would I rather sit next to a young female, or a single old guy that keeps “accidentally” bumping his leg into mine?

So I says to my brother I says, “brother, I would pay $20 to be able to see basic information about my other fellow travelers. I might even consider paying $50 if I could get a picture and more information.” Or, what if passengers could link to their myspace.com pages or something? Flying would be a much more rewarding experience if you could pick and avoid your neighbors. In any event, here’s a crappy version of what the ticket selection process might look like:

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You saw it here first. If the airlines roll this out, expect to be called as a witness in my lawsuit. ;)

Edit, 2008-06-11: I realize after the fact that such a tool could be used against people by creeps. For example, maybe a pedophile would look for tickets belonging to children. So, maybe the airlines automatically block seats held by children. And, if you don’t want people to know about you, you block your information from being shared when you buy your ticket. But, as an enticement to share, maybe the airline takes $10 off your ticket if you’re willing to share your info, assuming you’re not buying a seat that no one can sit next to (e.g. the seats next to it are already taken).

I wonder if I can patent this jazz?


 The Feds Still Believe in Santa Clause

 Filed under: Sexual Politics — @ May 20th, 2008

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So there’s a law that “sets a five-year mandatory prison term for promoting, or pandering, child pornography. It does not require that someone actually possesses child pornography.” The Supreme Court published its verdict in a case on the law, and decided that the law was not unconstitutional.

An appeals court had previously stated that it was overly broad, as it punished the mere suggestion that you had child pornography, not the actual act of transferring CP or possession CP. If a person felt that you honestly had CP to provide, you were guilty of a crime.

There is some precedent for these types of penalties, including attempted murder, conspiracy, and so on. You didn’t actually murder someone, but you had done everything just short of murdering them. I understand laws based on situations like this, as it implies that someone is in grave danger and the plotter needs to be arrested to preserve the life of the intended victim.

In this situation, the person promoting the availability of CP might not possess it, nor do they have the intent to disseminate. However, suggesting that you do have it will get you 5 years in jail minimum. 5 years for not actually possession or distributing something. 5 years for talking about an imaginary product.

Governments have been pulling this crap for years with drugs. If you’re an undercover cop and I show up with baking soda and try to sell you it, pretending that it’s cocaine, many states will send me to jail for as long as they would if I actually had real cocaine. Never mind that I never bought, transported, or provided cocaine; my imaginary bag is somehow the same thing. It’s such bullshit. If anything, the people with imaginary drugs or imaginary CP should be charged with something like intend to defraud, although one might wonder if you can “legally” defraud someone of an illegal product or service.

I agree that CP and narcotics trafficing are major problems in our society; however, it drives me absolutely crazy that we lock people up for imaginary drugs or pornography that never existed, might never have existed, and which never passed from individual to individual. People might say that someone who pretends to distribute CP or drugs is perpetuating the overall problem, and I think that’s an incredibly valid point. Even so, imaginary is still imaginary in my book, and I’m willing to let it slide when we have no proof of imminent danger or distribution.

More from the article:

In the appeals court’s view, the law could apply to an e-mail sent by a grandparent and entitled “Good pics of kids in bed,” showing grandchildren dressed in pajamas.

But Scalia said the appeals court interpretation was unreasonable. “The prosecutions would be thrown out at the threshold,” he said.

I’m not sure what threshold he’s talking about. When CPS takes your kids away? When your name’s published in the newspaper? When the police hold you without bail? Apparently, he’s never read the news. A simple Google search will reveal scores of cases in which the lives of individuals and families were destroyed over innocent situations, like taking nude photos of your own kids running around the house. (Here’s a famous example of this.) American society has gone so crazy with its “do it for the children” fetish that they will throw people in jail, confiscate houses, cars, and bank accounts, and get people fired, all before they’ve been charged or found guilty. Never mind that they might actually be innocent once a reasonable inquiry is held; their lives, financial health, and reputation are irreparably destroyed.

Even if they throw the prosecutions out at the threshold [of the court], your life is over long before your date in the same building. Way to go Scalia, you dumb ass.


 

 Filed under: General — @ May 16th, 2008

I’ve been reading a lot of really amazing books lately that have made me really depressed. Books that make you realize how much there is that you’re not doing with your life, or how much horror has been perpetrated against our fellow man. I think I’m going to plan an adventure. I found a place with reasonable rates on SatPhones, so it’s just a matter of disappearing for a while….

Changing subjects: Do men still carry wallets with pictures in them? I remember that they used to about 10 years ago. I think even I had a wallet with some bent-ass pictures in it. There was usually some permanent dirt or mildew or something in one of the sleeves, making your girlfriend look like more of a horseface than she actually was. I’ll have to ask around. This is going to bother me now.


 God Wants to Sit in a Tree and Shoot You from Like, 100 Yards Away

 Filed under: Religion — @ May 12th, 2008

Since my last attempt was so successful, I decided to try my hand at another play (pretty much stolen from The Most Dangerous Game). This one is meant to highlight the strange Christian notion that despite a completely unfair set of handicaps and unending torment if we choose wrong, god loves us. It’s a bit long, but I give the performance of my career, so I think you should read it all.

The part of Tom Selleck will be played by god, Jonathan Winters will play Tom Selleck’s manservant Ivan, and the part of the kidnapped homeless guy Steve will be played by me, a crazy homeless guy.

Scene opens with Steve asleep on a bed, bloodied up a bit. He slowly wakes up as though drunk, and looks around at his surroundings. Ivan is standing over him.
Steve Hello? Who are you? Where am I?
Ivan That will be explained to you later. Please get dressed and join us for dinner.

Steve gets dressed and the curtains close. The curtains open again to see Steve seated at a long table in a luxurious dining hall across from Ivan. Tom Selleck enters the room in full military dress, looking quite elegant.

God Hello Steve. I hope you are doing well tonight. I know that you are tired and homeless and your weener often hurts. Would you like to live here in my mansion with me? Everything you could ever want is yours, including weener medicine.
Steve Sure, that’d be grand. But, what’s the catch?
God Well, I need to make sure you’re the right kind of fellow to live here. You see, I love my fellow man. I want him to be happy and to be free of pain and suffering and to live here forever. However, just because, I want to measure your character before I let you in. Therefore, I propose a game.
Ivan Ivan claps, excited at the prospect of a game. He likes games, especially Hungry Hungry Hippo.
God In my back yard is a large forest. I propose that you run around it, and if I’m able to shoot you and capture you within 24 hours, I’ll let Ivan hold you over a roaring flame and poke your weener with a warm hanger that he might also use to roast marshmallows on. Forever.
Steve I thought you said you loved your fellow man? What kind of game is this? I want to leave. I didn’t ask to be put into this situation.
God Ah, but you’re missing the big picture. If you win, and can avoid me for 24 hours, you can live here until you die, along with all the other people that I let live here for free without having to go through the same thing as you. I call them my angels, and they live upstairs. They’re pretty stoked to be here, because they don’t have to play the game.

Steve thinks about this. His cardboard box does pretty much suck, but he’s never been a fan of marshmallows. He proceeds cautiously.

Steve So it’s just you and me, and if I can hide for 24 hours, I get to live here forever?
God Yep, that’s how much I love you. Oh…actually, there is one more thing. The last guy who was here peed all over himself, and ruined some of the upholstery. Oh, what was his name? Adam? I can’t really remember. Anyways, it doesn’t really matter. I’m still pretty steamed about it, so I think I’m going to stab you in the leg to make it harder for you to hide from me.

Tom Selleck stabs Steve in the leg with a large knife.

Steve Ow! I didn’t pee on your chairs. Why’d you stab me?
God Well, I know you didn’t, but the other guy kinda looked like you, and now I feel like I should punish everyone else who decides to play my game.
Steve But I didn’t decide to play your game, and now you make it harder for me to win because some other guy before me messed up your stuff? I thought you loved me?
God I do love you, and that’s why there are no more catches. Oh wait, except there is one more catch. Ivan is going to take my dog Lucifer out into the forest after you, and they’re going to harass you and make it harder for you to hide. But beyond that, it’s pretty much fair and square between us. All you have to do is choose to survive for a day, and you’re in, my boy. You’re in! How great is that? Can’t you see that I really do love my fellow man?

Steve may be a crazy homeless guy, but he still has some sense of logic.

Steve So, what you’re telling me is this: you brought me into this game because you love me. But, because some other guy messed up his Huggies, you stab me in the leg to make it harder for me to win? And, in addition, you are going to let another guy enter the game with the full intention of making it harder for me to win? I’ve already been stabbed; can’t you at least keep Ivan and Lucifer out of the game?
God Sorry mate, I can’t do that. I need you to demonstrate to me that you don’t want to choose Ivan and the blood-thirsty Lucifer. Maybe you’d like to live with them instead, and let them poke you in the weener with a red-hot hanger.
Steve Steve looks around for help, but finds none. Nervously, he says, I choose you though! Can’t we just abort the game now and I can just live here with you and not have to go hurt myself in the bushes?
God Sorry friend. Even though an abortion of the game would allow you to live with me sooner, I really did go to all this trouble to bring you into my world without you asking me, and I think it’s only right that you should have to run around in the wilderness for a day with your crippled leg and Ivan and Lucifer chasing you. Remember though: I love you, and I want you to make it back here so we can live together with my angels in happiness and free of weener pain. So be a good sport and run along, ok?

Steve tries desperately one last time.

Steve Wait! It’s not like this is McDonald’s and I came by after hours and demanded to be let in to eat some tasty McGriddles. You brought me to this, punished me for some other guy’s mistake, and have let your manservant and his dog Lucifer chase me down. How is it my fault if you are able to catch me and shoot me, and then let Ivan torture me?
God Quite simple, my boy. I created all of this, so it’s my rules, which are all very fair. And even though a guy who looked like you peed all over my chair, I’m going to let you live with me if only you and your crippled leg can survive my harsh forest and Lucifer chasing you. It’s all very fair, and wouldn’t be otherwise, as I love you very, very much. Nevermind that I brought you here and didn’t ask you if you wanted to play. That’s just the kind of guy I am. I’m gracious like that.
Ivan He loves you Steve, and don’t you forget it, or I get to torture you for the rest of your natural life.

fin


 Prayer is Like an American Express Card

 Filed under: Religion — @ May 11th, 2008

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Yesterday, I saw a sticker on an expensive Land Rover that said “Prayer Changes Things.” Everyone knows this, of course, as god is aways deciding the outcome of major sporting events. Then again, I thought to myself, does god help out anyone other than professional sports athletes? Is this bumper sticker trying to impress me by lying?

I continued on my merry way, past some homeless people and an impoverished Mexican family crammed into a beat down truck. It occurred to me that only two types of people would believe this sticker’s bold assertion: the uneducated, and people from wealthy countries.

It goes without saying that uneducated people are the people most susceptible to superstition. My guess is that Stephen Hawking and Albert Einstein do/did not engage in voodoo, or beseech the gods to grant rain in time of drought. On the other hand, the uneducated might see a one-to-one relationship between their prayers to god and deeds on earth and the response god gives them. The mysteries of the universe will always be mysteries, with the reasons beyond their reach. They move within serendipity, looking at coincidence as evidence of action by something bigger than themselves. They pray for rain, and if rain comes, whomever they prayed to listened and took pity. If rain doesn’t come, it doesn’t mean that someone isn’t there, it simply means that someone has decided against them. Prayer changes things, and sometimes it doesn’t. That is the philosophy of the simple-minded.

People from wealthy countries, even the stupid among them, understand that even if they can’t grasp the answer to something, there is probably an answer somewhere, written by someone smarter than themselves. They cannot, however, see a bigger picture to this knowledge even when Science does not have an immediate answer. We may not know exactly how to treat cancer yet, but we know that when people live or die from it, there is something in the gentics or the treatment that effected this result. Those of us with some sense do not immediately forget all the books underlying the knowledge only to lift our heads to the quiet heavens and give thanks. People in wealthy countries are so used to the surroundings of technology that they forget quickly that all of it had some measure in the success of someone living through a terrible ailment. An MRI machine or 100 million dollars poured into new chemotherapy research is forgotten by their sullied religious minds, as though these things were merely a bush on the edge of a witch doctor’s land. Prayer changes things to the wealthy people because they don’t realize how good they have it. They are not in the middle of an African steppe, pleading with the sky to save the gangrenous leg of their beloved child. They are in a hospital, surrounded by a billion dollars of equipment and thousands of years of learning painfully extracted from life and death by countless men and women who now rest in the earth.

Close friends of mine find miracles in many things, including the salvation of their loved ones from death. Their earnest prayers obviously saved this person, as if god had made some mistake and decided at the last moment to seal his beast back into its cage. What about everyone else who has ever uttered a prayer? My aunt died from leukemia in her 70s, begging Jesus to grant her some more time on this earth. What of Christian slaves in the antebellum South? Did god intervene to save every one of them from brutal rape, whippings, beatings, and starvation? Do children not cry out to the great Eternity to fill their stomachs, only to find themselves in the belly of some vulture days later?

The poor and uneducated think prayer works because there can be no other solution. Technology will never save the life of their loved one or bring the rain to save their crops and their families. Either prayer is answered, or it is not. Either way, whomever turns the earth upon its axis hears them. They fail to see that their prayers are answered by timing, not intelligence.

The wealthy, by contrast, are too stupid to realize that every step they take in their world is supported by technology at all levels, whether it be plumbing, medicine, or electricity. Their prayers are answered every second of every day; it’s just that they’ve grown so accustomed to the slavery with which we’ve bound the universe that they don’t ask the prayers any more. When they do pray, they are answered by technology and Science, and like their poor brethren, are too blind to realize that their prayers also fell on proper timing. Had they made the same prayer 10 years sooner, we might not have had the machines we do now, or the ambulances with expensive medications around every corner. Prayer does not change things. It falls onto the deaf ears of a churning universe that knows nothing of our presence. When coincidence intervenes and someone is saved, the rich ignore their surroundings and their education and praise the skies. It is as if god is their servant, and can be made to work the weekend by a little tearful bribe. If god knows all things before their time, of what consequence is prayer? It seems unlikely that we can change the knowledge of an infinite god by sending thoughts in his direction.

At least the poor people see god as like them. He is fickle and can be persuaded. The god of the rich confirms their arrogance as to why their society is elevated; they are the best, the brightest, and of course god has blessed them with riches. He is all powerful and his dictates final. What blissful confirmation of this arrogance it is to suggest that they can change the mind of an unchanging being. They want whatever it is they’re praying for, therefore it must be the right thing. God is no fool, and delivers. Then again, sometimes he doesn’t, but we ignore the silence and tell ourselves that the answer was “no.”

Maybe a better sticker would say “Prayer Changes Things, if We Only Pretend the Non-Answers Never Happened.”


 God Has Stock in the Prosthetic Limb Industry

 Filed under: Religion — @ May 5th, 2008

If only god wasn't busy helping the Denver Nuggets beat the Spurs, I might be able to get my limbs back.

There’s a website called “Why won’t god heal amputees” that’s been around for a while. As you can guess, the central question is: if God can do anything, why are there no documented cases of human amputees regenerating limbs?

Religious people of all stripes see god and his miracles all over the place, whether it be an unexpected check that helps pay the rent or warming up the entire Vermont wilderness to keep an autistic teen safe.

That I’m aware of, there’s no doctrinal basis in any of the Abrahamic religions to suggest that god can’t regenerate limbs; indeed, if the author of the entire universe can’t put a leg back in place, he needs to get his money back from whatever community college he went to.

I had one friend tell me that god doesn’t heal amputees because “humans aren’t lizards”. Of course, this makes no sense. The Old Testament is full of miracles in which god overturns the laws of physics, including stopping the sun. He created Adam from dirt! How hard can it be for him to put a limb back onto a deserving individual? I see no reason to treat limb regeneration as any different than healing gunshot wounds or curing someone of rabies or cancer.

My guess is that most believers would doubt their faith if they actually sat down to pray in earnest for an amputee. More to the point, I’d guess that very few Christians would actually pray for an amputee, as they know that nothing will come of it. What use is prayer if god arbitrarily and automatically discards certain categories of it? What if you’re drowning on a Tuesday and that happens to be the day he doesn’t help drowning victims? Maybe Thursdays are the night he helps NBA players win games, so he ignores prayers asking for help saving your wife from being raped. Who knows?

Nowhere in the Bible does it say that god won’t heal amputees. Rather, it says repeatedly that prayer will be answered, and that through prayer, all things are possible. Once you start jotting down exceptions to the rule, don’t you have to throw away the entire promise?

Many people will probably say something like “god just hasn’t found a reason to heal an amputee yet.” Given that god has busted out billions of miracles since the start of the universe, isn’t there room to give one person back a limb?

Jesus says the following in Mathew:

I tell you the truth, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but also you can say to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done. If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.

Tell this to an Iraq war veteran with a missing leg, or an African who’s arm has been hacked off with a machete. I’m willing to bet both of them see a big asterisk on the end of that quote.


 Someone Peed in My Coffee, Apparently

 Filed under: Politics, Racial Politics — @ Apr 28th, 2008

I find myself in a somber and angry mood tonight. I’m not quite sure why, but the result is that I’m going to take a different tack with this piece.

Much has been said lately about the remarks of Jeremiah Wright, Barrack Obama’s minister. The man is certainly inflammatory, but despite all the vitriol directed his way, I honestly don’t think his assessment is too far off. At a time when mankind has reached the highest peaks of technological and scientific knowledge he has ever known, it amazes me that racism is so alive and well. Was Wright so far off in calling this the “US of KKK-A”?

Certainly, the position of black-skinned Americans is better than it probably has been at any time in the history of this country. Much of the present sorrow still visited upon that community is self-inflicted, but only an idiot would say that the majority of blame falls on blacks themselves. The civil rights movement of the 1960s laid bare the festering boil that was race relations in the United States, and through much black hardship gave white society a chance to be honest with itself. It gave whites who wanted justice to prevail an opportunity to speak out, and to help alleviate the suffering of their fellow man. This admission of guilt in itself, however, does not lift millions of people out of the burden of hundreds of years of poor education, paltry infrastructure, and genetic steamrolling. Laws were passed to better protect the physical bodies of minorities in the States, but racism persisted, and communities were ignored.

It troubles me that the worth of a man is still measured in so many ways by the color of his skin. Racism at its core is no different than superstition. It says that some magical quality is imbued within one’s skin, and that quality will always transcend whatever other abilities we have. Racism, like religion, is a virus. It infiltrates the mind through exposure to other infected individuals, and seeks to spread its ugly progeny through every inch of flesh so that each word, each dealing with someone of a different skin color is poisoned by it. It seeks every opportunity to spread, and chooses those who are most easily influenced: the young, the old, and the uneducated. Jesus knew very well what he spoke of when he said to suffer the little children unto him. A young mind is unable to withstand the attack of mental viruses, and is open to every putrid idea that its rotting parent cares to spit its way. Subject a child to 18 years of bigotry, and its mind will be so overrun by racist or religious disease that it may very well be a life long handicap.

I wonder if we’ll ever have the technology to manipulate the skin color of a child in the womb. Obviously, we can already do that to a certain extent through selective insemination. But, if we can show that skin color is nothing more than an “On-Off” switch that we can change in the OB-GYN’s office, will there still be room for racial division?

Recently, southern Congressman Geoff Davis called Barrack Obama “boy” in a discussion on Obama’s readiness to act as Commander-in-Chief. Davis is only three years older than Obama, and in effect, was calling Obama a nigger. He also said that Obama would probably be in jail if he were not miraculously lifted into the Senate. (A complete mp3 is here.) What a sad day for mankind. In the twenty-first goddamned century, a representative to the most important congress in world history can still see fit to call a black senator “boy.”

Let me offer one final thought, and I’ll be off. I rather hate the idea of “community” and fictional relationships to prominent people within one’s own race. I remember a scene in a sit-com I saw many years ago, where a black-skinned, elderly musician was talking to the two black sisters that were the main characters. The general point of his conversation was that white people stole black music and usurped it. I understand that this character was trying to tell the girls that they need not feel ashamed of themselves; that people who look just like them have achieved greatness. Even so, this bothers me.

The color of one’s skin does not imbue you with some right to take ownership of great people before you to the exclusion of others. If there was a talented black musician who’s music was stolen (I’m looking at you, Elvis Presley), that individual is no more related to the average black person than he is the average Mexican. His talent does not somehow persist through the ages to be magically inherited by every person who has a similar skin color. Similarly, I, as an half-Anglo, half-Hispanic male did not crawl into the room of a sleeping black musician 70 years ago and spirit away the essence of his musical talent in some kind of racial robbery.

The gifts that each of us have are gifts to the entire species, and our failings are burdens cast upon everyone. There is no more “black music” than there is “white space flight.” Each of us can take pride in the great men and women who came before us, we should all be ashamed at the evil that has transpired, and we all have a responsibility to those of us who come after. I am every man or woman who has struggled before me to survive, to eke out an existence on this planet. I am a single mother who does her damndest to put food on the table. I am every slave who has ever taken a whipping for daring to hold his head high, to say “I am a man.” I am every person who has ever screamed at the empty, silent heavens and said “not me, I am not going to take this without a fight.” We are all liberty, we are all evil, we are all justice. The sooner we dispense with this nonsense that we are the product of our skin, that we are members of fictitious “communities”, the sooner we can cast off one more shackle placed upon us by the darkness of ages past. Our worth is not determined by the color of our skin. Our path need not be guided by superstition.


 Maine Wants You for Their Salt Mines

 Filed under: Sexual Politics — @ Apr 13th, 2008

There’s an article out of Maine discussing a proposed new law that basically makes it illegal to look at a child in public locations in such a way as to cause sexual arousal in the viewer. The article mistakenly suggests that it will now be illegal under the new law to look at clothed children for sexual arousal, but that’s irrelevant. What’s more important is how amazingly scary it is that the government is getting into the business of thought crime.

The article cites an anectode from a police officer about a situation in which “a man … appeared to be observing children entering … community bathrooms” at a public beach. The police couldn’t charge him with anything, and were only able to tell him to move along. This new bill would address this so-called “visual sexual aggression” against children, making it a felony.

What’s particularly interesting about this episode is that the guy only “appeared to be observing” children, nothing more. He wasn’t talking to them, he wasn’t masturbating, he wasn’t taking pictures, he wasn’t doing anything except looking, and even then they’re not sure. Basically, the police thought that the guy was “creepy” and didn’t want him there. I can understand this, as I wouldn’t want some creepy guy staring at my kids either, assuming I had kids. Nevertheless, it scares the hell out of me that the police wanted to charge the guy with anything at all despite him complying with their request to leave the area. Since when are the police entitled to patrol the thoughts of American citizens? Even IF the guy was staring at the kids so that he could pleasure himself later, I find it absurd that some random cop on some random beach can make that determination without any evidence and throw some guy in jail on a felony charge. Utter nonsense.

By the way, it’s for similar reasons that hate crime legislation pisses me off. It shouldn’t matter why someone committed a crime, only that they did it. If white-skinned man A stabs white-skinned man B, does it hurt B any less than if A stabs a black-skinned guy because of racism? I tell you, if I’m ever stabbed, I hope a white-skinned guy does me in. If a black-skinned guy did it because he hates whites, that knife is probably going to hurt way worse. This, of course, is just plain stupid.

If the guy watching kids is creepy, move him along and keep an eye on him. If he continues to do it and people are feeling threatened, charge him with something like physical intimidation. The threat of rape is a real crime, and a grown man who persists in leering at small children after warnings from police could be legitimately conveying this threat. But, to make up some bullsh*t felony of “visual sexual aggression” and to actually create a pre-crime over someone’s sexual thoughts is just plain frightening. Since when did Joseph Stalin start running Maine’s government?

I will give the author(s) of the bill some credit: the bill doesn’t make it a crime to stare at someone over 12 or 14 (depending on the circumstance) in this way. I say this not because I’m happy that creepy men can intimidate 15-year-old girls, but because this apparently recognizes the distinction between pedophilia and just “regular” sexual attention paid towards a minor. In semi-scientific terms, if a human being has secondary sex characteristics (e.g. developed breasts or hips in girls), it’s not pedophilia to be attracted to them. We still don’t want grown adults taking advantage of minors who may be sexually—though not mentally—developed, but attraction towards secondary sexual characteristics is normal. Sexual attraction towards children with no discernible secondary sex characteristics is not considered normal, and falls into the category of paraphilia. I have no problem with crimes that penalize adults for taking advantage of unwitting minors, but to say that an adult can’t be sexually aroused by a 16-year-old who is just as developed as an 18-year-old is just dumb. This bill doesn’t do that, thankfully, but I wonder if it’s on the horizon.

Who knows what could be next? Maybe we can bring back debtor’s prison and throw away people who merely consider skipping a credit card payment. Rather than help the potential pedophile or the potential bankruptcy candidate before they do an offending act, we can just preemptively ruin their lives. Everybody wins. Hooray!

To close, let me quote George Orwell’s 1984:

It was terribly dangerous to let your thoughts wander when you were in any public place or within range of a telescreen. The smallest thing could give you away. A nervous tic, an unconscious look of anxiety, a habit of muttering to yourself — anything that carried with it the suggestion of abnormality, of having something to hide. In any case, to wear an improper expression on your face (to look incredulous when a victory was announced, for example) was itself a punishable offence. There was even a word for it in Newspeak: facecrime, it was called.


 Driving Dangerously is Like Eating a Parfait at McDonald’s

 Filed under: General — @ Apr 13th, 2008

Om nom nom nom

Despite my wild imagination, everyone in the world does not read my blog, apparently. I blame me for not being funny, but mostly I blame you. I think we both know why.

For those of you not from California, there’s a place called Bakersfield, and then there’s a place called “everywhere else.” If you’re in Bakersfield, it doesn’t take you very long to get there. You could get in your car to drive to Bakersfield, but then you could get out again because you’re already there. So that’s cool. But, if you’re “everywhere else”, Bakersfield is in the middle of f’ing nowhere. You could be all like “hey, I’m going to Bakersfield and maybe I’ll get a burger when I’m there because I’m hungry” and then go get in your car and start driving. Unfortunately, you’ll starve to death before you get even half way because Bakersfield is in another dimension that takes a thousand years to get to and is inhabited by demons. Seriously, if you’ve never been to Bakersfield, don’t go. Tell your friends to go though, it’ll be funny. Especially if they don’t like demons.

Anyways, I drove to Bakersfield yesterday to go to a surprise birthday party for one of my closest friends. His birthday’s not until May, but we had it on April 12th anyways. Did I mention that besides being inhabited by demons and residing in another dimension, Bakersfield is also apparently in the middle of the sun? At first, I was “everywhere else” and I was comfortable and then my tires started melting and I realized that I was getting close.

What the heck was I talking about? Oh yeah, I know: you people didn’t listen when I told you that I was going to throw you to the lions when I was elected VP of the world in a few years. Because Bakersfield is in Thailand, I had a long time to observe the driving habits of my fellow man on the way out there. 80% of you drive kind of slow, 20% of you drive too damned slow, and the rest of you are dicks. I don’t understand why people have such a hard time realizing that cars and trucks are dangerous weapons.

Let’s say that you and I are hungry for a tasty fruit and yogurt parfait from McDonald’s, so we go to one near our house. Because my house is in the middle of the rain forest, I had to blaze a trail to the restaurant. While we’re eating I decide to show you what I looked like clearing a path to the Garden Grove McDonald’s. I take out my trusty machete and start pretending that I’m cutting down bushes and fighting off jaguars. No one else is in the joint besides you, me, a hot 17-year-old behind the counter who is trying to lure me to jail, and a family with some obese kids. I start playing the air-machete, and within 2 minutes a cop breaks through the door and shoots me in the face. Why did he do this? Probably because I was swinging a dangerous weapon around and the obese kids might have eaten it…or…something like that.

If, instead of fighting off jaguars I took the freeway to McDonald’s, I could drive my multi-thousand pound truck like an absolute madman, and no cops are going to shoot me in the face. The worst I could have done with my machete was kill or injure a small handful of people, but in my truck I have the power to wipe out whole families by making one wrong lane change. I pulled a kid out of an upside down car once after he hit 4 other cars, rolling one other besides his own. Fortunately, no one was killed, but he caused over $100,000 in damage to property and injured several other people, and all he got was a trial date, a $500 fine, and probation. Listen to me, you brain dead ass hole: your car is a deadly weapon. Slow the F down, make some decent lane changes, and turn down your Eminem. If I had it my way, I would shoot you in the face and save cops the trouble. Alas, my contract as a superhero with the government prevents me from killing civilians, so you’re off the hook…for now. At the moment I can only kill people who don’t speak God’s language (English), but that contract is up in 4 years. I swear by almighty Allah that I’m going to own a coliseum by then and I’m not going to feed my lions and tigers and bears until my contract is up. Oh my, are they going to be hungry.

(Yes, I did pull a muscle typing that last bit; thank you for asking.)


 Lions Think You Taste Like Chicken

 Filed under: General — @ Apr 10th, 2008

I'm sorry I ran that red light

I don’t know if you know this, but I should be allowed to kill people. Well, not all people in all circumstances, but I think it’s only fair that I have the power of life and death when it comes to dangerous drivers or drivers who are just generally douches. My eighth-grade teacher Mrs. Earnest told me that I was wise beyond my years, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t tell you this, so that pretty much means that I get to have the power of life and death and you don’t.

So……. I’m constantly amazed at how dangerously people in SoCal drive. Just because you have a lowered, $12,000 Honda with fake exhaust doesn’t give you the right to swerve across multiple lanes on the way to your manga convention. If you do it AND you have illegal window tint on your car, I swear to god I should have the right to put you down. Who are you, the President of f’ing Paraguay? Why the hell do you need illegal dark tint on the front windows? I don’t care if you’re Oskar goddamned “I-saved-like-a-million-Jews” Schindler driving away from the ghost of Hitler, if you have illegal window tint on your POS car and you dare cut me off from 4 lanes over and you’re not the President of Paraguay, you’d better hide for all your worth once I’m elected Vice President in 2016.

On my way home today, some guy on a freaking ’70s era moped is burning up the bike lane, hogging the white line so everyone has to avoid him. Because traffic was moving so slowly, he stayed with me for several miles. The stupid moped was bright green, and he had a bright orange motorcycle helmet on, as if that somehow hid the fact that he still lives with his mom who tucks him in at night and calls him pookie and kisses him on the forehead. And, to make matters worse, he didn’t have any bloody brakes!!!! He’d be tearing down the street, blocking the right lane and then the light would turn red, and he would put his stupid feet down and drag them at 40 mph to stop himself! I wish I had my camera so that I could take take his picture and steal his soul and then step on it. I will say one thing though: Keds have some amazing stopping power.

(Speaking of Keds, since when is Mischa Barton a model for Keds?!?!?!?! Click the link above to see her one stop away from working for Burger King.)

Anyways, I finally pull through the gate at my complex and notice a car I don’t recognize in the space next to me. It’s not a bad car, but it’s got a Club on it. A CLUB! I looked around to make sure it wasn’t 1996 and that I wasn’t at K-Mart. Thankfully, I was still in the present, although I’m not sure when I moved to West Virginia. Bloody hell people! Can you not try just a little harder to impress me? I really am going to remember all of this someday. If—by then—you haven’t changed into at least a marginally attractive female or a gay guy who can help me dress better, you’d pretty much better plan on fighting lions and bears in my new coliseum.