What $500 Worth of Crap Looks Like

Melissa sent me this earlier today with the following note: “We could create something like that!”

(courtesy Anthropologie.com)

Ahhhh…Sweet Melissa, no we could not. No. In fact, I couldn’t give you a bigger NO on this one, dearest.

Seriously. If George Clooney showed up allllll nekkid at my skeezy apartment wearing ONLY THIS FUGLY AS FUCK “THING”, I’d have to kick the living shit out him for having such horrid taste. See, my three readers, that speaks volumes because in my sass-n-bitchified opinion, the Cloonster is about as hot as a man can possibly be.

Look–here’s some proof of the above statement–

(Courtesy Tailgate365.com)

Enough of the handsome man diversion and back to WHY we don’t do crap. Where was I? Oh, right…here..yeah…right THERE…yeah..that’s it..ooohh…yessss… a little to the left … yeah, you hit it…

Yeah..you WISH.

You know why? Because we can’t, don’t and won’t create crap. I’m not into making crap like this because it goes against every fiber of my McCrabass being. I know, I know…considering some of the stuff I’ve created on this here blog, creating this type of crap would probably be a step up for me. Ha! Y’all are the apex of clever, my monosyllabic critics. Gag me with $500 worth of crap.

Of course, someone or someTHING needs to be blamed for this circle of wire, rope, prayers and crap: Insecure broads with too much cash and little to no taste, and the crafting industry and places the promote crafty-crap like Pinterest and Etsy.

Crafters of the world, I have a message for you: Cut it out. Yes, Stop making crafts.

Why?

Because you SUCK at it. You SUCK OUT LOUD at it. No one wants to see it, feel it, love it, ooh & aaah over it, or buy it. They’re just being nice to you because, once upon a time, you were some sort of high-falutin’ exec with an expense account who heard via some oracle like Oprah that it’s ok to follow your dreams.

So you quit your day job, went to Bali for “inspiration”, bought some stencils, a glue gun, oddly colored feathers, and some vintage cashmere sweaters and decided to repurpose your life. Then, your life went down the shitter quick because even your family of hamfatters couldn’t fake liking your craptacular creations anymore, demanded that you get over it and for the love of PETE, get your fucking job back! But nooo…you didn’t listen because you’re following your dreams! Now because of your dreams, your husband is schtupping his assistant AND for good measure, her husband too. Oh and your kids, god love ‘em, have followed in your footsteps in a way ,and are cooking meth in the trunks of their cars for lunch money and to pay for things like Girl Scouts.

In other words, Anthropologie is a twat for selling this.

We Need a New Plague

Apparently, the last vestiges of a particular plague are finished with Congress.

Jim DeMint (R-SC)

I’m not here to write about politics because I just got out of my padded cell due to good behavior, and writing about the cacophony that is our Legislative Branch would send me right back to face-biting territory.

Who knew that Newton Minow‘s words he uttered back in the 60s would still resonate today? Was Minow clairvoyant enough to realize that reality tee vee would be the beginning of the end for society? Is he in cahoots with those wascally Mayans?

I believe he is and I present to you a few examples of the modern-day “vast wasteland.”

“Neat Freaks” coming soon to TLC. I watched an episode of this show and it made me want to never, ever clean anything ever again. Ever. Nope. Not gonna. What it did make me was very sad. The people featured have serious issues with, well, everything. My fave was the personal trainer who told a prospective love interest that he would spray her body with hydrogen peroxide before they got “intimate.” Seriously–I’d leave both kinds of skid marks getting away from that loon.

“Amish Mafia” hasn’t aired yet, but will debut on Dec. 12th, and I can’t wait.

Hmm..something about having a Don named “Lebanon Levi” doesn’t exactly strike the fear of God into me. The Moses beard and woolen socks aren’t the same as lizard skin loafers, pinky rings stacked on stubby digits and having several severed heads in bowling bags. To me, he’s the farm community tough you call when you discover that the shady farrier didn’t put enough nails in Stumblebum’s shoes and he needs to be taught a lesson with a rasp. There’s Levi’s right hand guy, Alvin the Chipmunk who’s the muscle. Oh and the Henry Hill (not Sicilian) of the group, Jolin (Mennonite) carries about punishments willy-nilly since he’s not pure Amish and therefore, not subject to their laws.

I’ll be tuning in to see just how tough this Mafia is, but if there isn’t at least one killing over some barn raising shenanigans then I’m done.

I’ve watched about 3 episodes of this show, and all I’ve got is: Imagine the smell.

What the entire fuck? I couldn’t get past the beards and the idea that they smell like a combo platter of animal guts, chew, dirty/diseased pussy, moonshine and wood smoke.

Shows like “Duck Dynasty” tell me that tee vee development execs have given up on ever producing anything worthwhile because the American public learned years ago to eat the shit we’re given politely with a knife and fork. All of the good stuff is on cable anyway … hey… wait .. a damn..minute…

I remember reading something once upon a time as to why shows like the ones listed above are so popular–people can relate to the folks featured. Really? You can relate to people who are third-rate philosophers, sex tape producers and are afraid of what happens when you mix soap and water together? Oh Moses smell the duck-gut soaked roses folks, it’s reprogramming time!

Oh and these shows are super cheap to produce, plus there are some folks walking among the intelligent who believe the whole 15 Minutes of Fame rumor. Sadly, these folks are tee vee execs who have the creativity of a car battery.

Finally, for those of you who are mourning the impending doom of “The Jersey Shore”, you have this to look forward to.

Basically, MTV took the spooge/cheap liquor/tanning oil-soaked cast and rednecked ‘em up a scosch and plopped them down in the middle of the set of Deliverance 2.0. but this time with inbreeding, moonshine, ATVs, dorks and illiteracy. Talk about a huge shit sandwich. Perhaps MTV should changed its name to Shit TV since they no longer play music vidyas. Knowing how the viewing public is, “Buck Wild” is sure to be a huge hit.

The slide down crap mountain continues.

 

 

 

 

Suckwad McSuckersons

The gal with the mostest moxy on WordPress, Madame Weebles, had a great post earlier this week. So, whilst I was getting my sweat on during Bikram, I decided to answer the call of this siren and play along.

I blow donk at the following:

Not holding my tongue (shut up, pervs). Now, a little history about yours truly here. I’m a WASP (doormat) and with that pedigree comes learning how to make good conversatin’ at a wee age, a wicked sense of humor, a good edumacation and the ability to hold a lot of liquor and still be a McCrabass.

In other words, I’m a youngish Ouiser Boudreaux.

I wish.

However, when I was younger, the rule was to not talk about yourself (doing so was considered selfish), be polite and not ruffle any feathers (once again=doormat) regardless of what was being uttered to ruffle said feathers. Same goes for the utterer….right. Be polite to that person, then rip them to shreds when you’re with the fam. As I’ve aged, I’ve switched those two rules. Simply put, I don’t suffer fools lightly–and it shows. Now, I don’t immediately jump down someone’s gullet when they start spewing stupid, but I do when what has been said is either a right-out falsehood or an insult to me or mine. When I do say something, it’s usually quick and sharp, and has been known to harbor a certain amount of acidity that was part of my kind and genteel demeanor a few years ago. This is where I get into trouble–and lots of it. But changing my ways would be bad to my mental health so I’ve learned how to take what I dish out at a relatively early age.

My laziness when it comes to taking care of myself. I’m a lazy ass–I just am. I eat well, but if no food is in sight, I won’t eat. I’ll just think about food and hope that it’ll magically appear. On the plus side, I do Bikram yoga, go for long walks and drink copious amounts of water — and that’s about it aside from the occasional box of wine and trough of chocolate.

I can’t play basketball — at all. I’m turrible, turrible at it. What’s real odd is I believe that I should be good at it–why? I grew up playing tennis, riding to the hounds and plunging off of 3 meter springboards at break-neck speeds–where does basketball fit in?

Tally ho!

I don’t even like basketball all that much–same goes for baseball–come to think of it. The sight of me attempting to play can cause blindness so I don’t even try anymore because I do care about my fellow citizens that much.

Even Stanley is better than I am.

Being employed. I’ve been job-free for almost 2 years now and have no idea as to why I’m still not working, and find it odd that I’m persona non grata in the Chicago media world. I don’t want to talk about it though.

Overthinking. Being too cerebral. Too much in my head. This horrid habit tends to paralyze me at times. Instead of just “going for it”, I sit back and think of every possible thing that could go wrong AND right! Then, by the time I decide to go for it, the moment is gone and then there I am–holding my limp dick, or a limp dick. Depends on the situation I guess.

This next one may come as a shock, but I’m not all sweetness & light. I’m a born cynic. I see pictures of fluffy kittehs, puppehs and other woodland creatures, and do they warm the deep, dark parts of my soul? Nah. In fact, they fill me with dread because I know those critters are being pimped out for their cuteness but will soon be put back in some horrid basement or animal shelter somewheres because folks are too fucking stoopid/macho to get their animals fixed. Those animals never had a shot, see, and that sucks.

Pretending to like popular music–both new and old. I can’t stand 90 percent of the music that’s out today. It’s just pure horror produced by no talent shitstains who got lucky–or had someone killed so they could succeed. Same goes for old(er) stuff like Paul McCartney & Wings, Elvis Presley, Edie Brickell, U2, Tracy Chapman, John Mayer, DMB — I could go on and on, but I don’t want this bad juju on my blog. Plus, I wanna see the comments flow in about my audacity of not liking someone’s precious U2 or DMB.

So, to the 3 readers of this blog, what do you absolutely suck at?

A drop in the bucket

It seems like I’ve been all about cops these days.

One would think that the universe would give me a break on the cops-behaving-badly-storyline but apparently, that desire ain’t in the stars.

Of course it happened near Cleveland.

Courtesy of Cleveland.com

Dare gets 10 NE Ohio police officers in trouble

Seems *cough* innocent enough, right?

To emulate President Obama in the debate against that cuntdonkey Mitt Romney, “Please proceed, Governor.”

“MENTOR, Ohio (AP) — A veteran northeast Ohio police officer who put his head in a bucket of urine on a dare is being disciplined by his department, and nine colleagues who paid him for the task are being reprimanded.

The News-Herald in Willoughby (http://bit.ly/T32yKo ) reports an off-duty Mentor patrolman completed the dare last month, using a bucket from a makeshift urinal at a football game. Online video of the incident was reported to the city.”

Did someone say VIDEO? Why yes, they did. Sorry if my feigning surprise seemed phony in a Holden Caulfield kinda way, but I still suffer from this bad habit of giving people the benefit of the doubt.

And of course I’ve posted it for your viewing pleasure. FYI, it’s grody to the max.

Sooooo….the cops involved were reprimanded because they egged him on and each paid him fitty bucks to stick his noggin in a bucket o’ piss.

Let’s sit with this one a while. He, a grown man with responsibilities like carrying a gun and upholding the law, was dared to stick his head in a bucket of piss. Urine. Pee. Human waste. Recycled beer.

Apparently being a public servant ain’t what it used to be with the high pay, great bennies, huge fucking pensions and all. His friends felt the need to supplement his income but only if he worked for it. Now.. hmm…how could that be accomplished whilst drunk?

Let that wash over you while you also wade through this final tidbit:

“An investigator reported that several officers who were involved described the incident as “disgusting” but said they didn’t think it violated the department’s conduct code.”

So much for being a cop 24/7.

There is nothing left to say.

 

 

 

“Blue Wall” torn down — for now

So the verdict for the Anthony Abbate Jr. civil trial was announced earlier this evening in Chicago.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with this story, click on the links above and below for more info. Also, if you can stomach it, you can watch the video of the beating below.

Look for my story later on Gaper’s Block.

Petraeus’s Pussy Problem

What former CIA Director General David Petraeus said in a statement after it was discovered by the FBI he was playing hide the ballistic missile with his biographer, Paula Broadwell, author of the tome about her paramilitary paramour titled, [B]All In, was expected and quite dull. Zzzzzz….

“After being married for over 37 years, I showed extremely poor judgment by engaging in an extramarital affair,” Mr. Petraeus said in his statement, expressing regret for his abrupt departure. “Such behavior is unacceptable, both as a husband and as the leader of an organization such as ours. This afternoon, the president graciously accepted my resignation.”

Whoopsie!

Just for once, I’d LOVE to hear an apology statement by a government official upon resignation given in the appropriate lingo of his/her career choice. Confused? Well, here’s what he should have said:

“After slipping my warhead past Ms. Broadwell’s strategic defense systems, I have surrendered my position. I have waved the white flag, admitted that civilian poontang was my Waterloo. I apologetically let loose many an improvised explosive device in her fox hole, and my actions are regrettable. I am currently engaged in intense peace negotiations with my military spouse of 37 years, and am hoping for a truce but I have an inkling my actions have only created my own little DMZ. Therefore, the Commander-in-Chief, who has never spent one damn fucking day in uniform, acted like a major pussy and accepted my resignation. What a pud. Me? Well, I’m a SCUD stud!”

Way to acoustically jam her, General.

Porn & Post-Election fun

Why am I not surprised that most of the gals who were all snatch first for Hef have names like Amber, Brandi(y), Tiffany, Brittany, Ashley, and MIRIAM?

Yes, MIRIAM.

While Miriam is a lovely name, it doesn’t exactly conjure up the image of sexy beaver, bodacious tatas and digging on walks in the rain whilst wearing lingerie from Dress Barn. Miriam to me screams bubbe–the type who steals packets of sugar from restaurants, who has a database filled with “Oh how I’ve suffered” stories locked away in her noggin, who also uses wadded up & used a billion times Kleenex doused in her own spit to clean your dirty face, AND who hands you her comb with the hopes that you’ll do away with the holes in her hair. I think I’ve seen my future ….

Post-election fun

While I’m glad my guy prevailed, I must admit it was so fun watching Turd Blossom implode on Fox News. Totally helped to make the victory that much more sweet. I wanna know when after the official announcement that the Kenyan Muslim Socialist Gay Marxist had won re-election that Rove flushed his Smartphone down ye olde toilet because he is so NOT down with getting his ass chewed out by pasty, white billionaires.

Then, there was Bill O’Reilly, who has more chins than a Chinese phonebook, saying how the demographics of this country have changed (no shit, Sherlock) and how people want “stuff.” If that ridiculous, choady, and out-of-touch statement wasn’t offensive enough, there was the “traditional America” quip which in double-speak means “rich, white men are slowly becoming the minority and because of how shitty we’ve been toward those who don’t share our skin color or maleness, we are now in trouuuuble.”

Enjoy.

My god–No wonder Romney LOST CALIFORNIA AND ITS 55 ELECTORAL VOTES. He had THIS GUY running his game in the Golden State.

I guess it is true–only the good die young.

Here’s my new, fab-fave, post-election Tumblr.

I hope she shuts the fuck up now.

Finally, my fave election vidya ever.

Cathmandont

(courtesy mnn.com)

Since I’m in some sort of unemployed holding pattern from hell, I’ve been thinking of ways to spice up my life. You know, give my life some ummph, and make my daily life a bit funky.

I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be the quirky broad on the street by either painting my car neon orange or by setting up a home for wayward squirrels, or by ceasing the whole practice of bathing altogether. hmm. Then it hit me–I’ll get a leopard! Yes! A big, spotted kitteh with meaty paws and a jaw that could snap an elephant’s leg. I’ve even been going over possible names for my new minion–Roderick, Pancho, Gus or Gwendolyn. And, I’ve spent more than a few hours researching beds, scratching posts, BIG litter boxes and fainting couches online for my new pet. I’ve even spoken with a few pre-schools and looked into Head Start programs around the city. It was all very encouraging and my excitement was starting to grow.

All was well in the dome, until I read this.

From CNN.

Leopard suspected of eating 15 people in Nepal

(OOPS.)

Kathmandu, Nepal (CNN) — A ferocious leopard may have killed 15 people in Nepal in a 15-month span, its latest victim a 4-year-old boy that the creature dragged away into the jungle to eat.

The head of boy was found in the forest a kilometer from his home Saturday morning, said Kamal Prasad Kharel, the police chief of the Baitadi district, an area about 600 kilometers (373 miles) west of Kathmandu.

The grisly discovery, which came after teams of people searched for the child, marks the 15th victim in the past 15 months in that remote district in western Nepal.

The police chief suspects that a single man-eating leopard is responsible for the deaths. If not, there are at most two of the man-eating creatures around, he believes.

Maheshwor Dhakal, an ecologist at the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Conservation in Kathmandu, agreed that it is unusual to find more than one or two man-eating animals in one area. Most leopards live on wild prey.

More human victims could also be expected if there were more than one or two man-eaters around, he said.

“Since human blood has more salt than animal blood, once wild animals get the taste of salty blood they do not like other animals like deer,” Dhakal said.

Kharel said he feared the actual number of people killed by the leopard could be higher than 15, because others have lost their life to leopard attacks in Uttarkhand state in northern India, which borders Baitadi district.

“It could be the same leopard,” he said.

Of the 15 victims in Nepal so far, two-thirds are children below the age of 10. The others are older children and a 29-year-old woman who had gone to collect fodder for domestic animals in the nearby forest, a common practice in Nepal.

“No adult male has been killed,” Kharel said.

All the victims are from villages bordering the dense forests in the district, he said.

After killing its victim, the leopard takes the body away into the forest to eat.

“In the case of the children it just leaves behind the head, eating everything, but some parts of the adult body are left behind because it cannot finish it,” Kharel added.

The district administration has announced a Rs. 25,000 (about $300) reward to anyone who captures or kills the leopard.

The local administration has sought to raise public awareness of the dangers of going alone into nearby forests and has mobilized the police, armed police force and local people who have licensed guns to hunt for the animal.

Controlling this particular leopard has been a challenge for the wildlife officials in Kathmandu.

“We are sending a veterinary doctor to the district to understand the situation,” Dhakal, the ecologist, said. “There is no alternative but to kill the leopard.”

The chief district administrator has granted permission for this particular leopard to be killed. Normally, it is illegal to kill wild animals.

Leopards are common in the low mountain areas, as compared to the high Himalayas, across the country.

While cases of leopards killing domestic animals are common, and there are sometimes instances of leopards killing people in Nepal, this case is “extreme,” Dhakal said.

Fuuuuuck–another grand idea squashed.

So this big kitteh has been wreaking havoc in Nepal for 15 months. So far he has killed 15 people. Hey, in new math that’s about 1 person a month. Not a bad record if you ask me.

Who knows why this leopard is all about killing his fellow Nepalese, but I believe it’s because he likes nom nomming on human flesh, and is just plain fed up with giving lost hikers directions to Mt.Everest.

The Choad Menagerie

You’re probably hoping that this particular post is the McCrabass version of Tennessee Williams’s classic “The Glass Menagerie”, but it isn’t.

Simply put–I am here to crush your dreams once again.

The nice thing is that once I get going on this post, you’ll see why it has been awarded this particular hed.

Who here has heard of Kerry Bentivolio? Anyone? His grand plan is to be the Republican rep in Congress for Michigan’s 11th district which was left vacant after former-Rep. Thaddeus McCotter abruptly resigned in July. He’s not your run-of-the-mill-Republican (whatever that means) either, he’s much more fun. (fun in a herpes-outbreak kinda way)

Kerry Bentivolio (courtesy liberty-candidates.org)

From DetroitYes.com:

On the first day of school last year, Kerry Bentivolio told students in his English class at Fowlerville High School that he had one goal: to make each one of them cry at least once.
……..
Nine months later, school administrators reprimanded him for intimidating and threatening students by grabbing their desks and yelling in their faces or for slamming his fists on their desks.

Oh it gets so much better. Yeah, um…. I’ll just let youse guys read it. From Politico.com

The brother of Kerry Bentivolio says the Michigan congressional candidate, who’s favored to win on Tuesday, is “mentally unbalanced” and could end up in jail.

“I’ve never met anyone in my life who is conniving and dishonest as this guy,” Phillip Bentivoliosaid, according to the Michigan Information and Research Service   (subscription required). “He’s my brother so it’s hard to talk about this, but I believe that if he gets elected, he’ll eventually serve time in prison.”

Kerry Bentivolio is the Republican candidate in Michigan’s 11th district, running to replace Rep. Thaddeus McCotter, who failed to secure enough valid signatures to qualify for the ballot.

Kerry Bentivolio is a Santa Claus impersonator and reindeer farmer. He made headlines after old court documents surfaced quoting him saying he had a “problem figuring out which one I really am, Santa Claus or Kerry Bentivolio.”  He’s running against Democrat Syad Taj.

Philip Bentivolio said that in 1992, he helped his brother build houses in Arkansas and Kerry owed him $20,000. This month he told Kerry he would go to the media with the story if he did not get paid, and Kerry then said he called the FBI and the Little Rock Police Department.

“He told them that I told them that if he didn’t send me money, I was going to kill myself,” Phillip Bentivolio said. “I couldn’t believe it.”

Kerry Bentivolio said that his brother has “serious mental issues” and that the FBI was looking into his brother’s request for repayment 20 years after the fact.

Kerry Bentivolio reminds me of the crazy uncle you see once a year at family gatherings. And, because of your strong sense of family coupled with WASP guilt, you’re forced to spend “quality time” with him which will ensure that the karma train doesn’t mow you over during a future run. Watching him pound Jack & Cokes would be similar to watching cement harden. He also strikes me as the type of uncle who gives the female relatives WET KISSES, but not on the cheek, oh no! Them smooches are bound for your beak, hon, and it’s best just to let it happen then start pounding French 75s to help douse the image of his maw careening toward your pucker out of your mental Rolodex. Um, I speak from experience as a matter of fact.

Back to the feud de Bentivolio Brothers. Holidays are probably rough at the Bentivolio manse. Also, I’m quite verklempt on the whole “I don’t know if I’m Kerry Bentivolio or Santa Claus” bit. It’s .. it’s … it’s just …. yep.

I’m gonna go on the record and say that if Obama was a white dude, this shit wouldn’t be spewing forth from the Mayor of 9/11 and his ilk. I’m waiting for Rudy to take credit for the clean-up of NYC post-Sandy. You know it’s gonna happen and here’s a pre-emptive ‘shuttie’ to him.

Exorcism a la Plinky

So I signed up with Plinky to help me with this NaBloPoMo thingy.

Supposedly or Supposebly (choose whichever version best displays your edumacational achievements) the daily inspirations on Plinky are supposed to help me with this daily writing task.

Not bloody likely.

So far, the ‘inspirations’ I’ve spied involve describing a time when you felt your loneliest, if you could invent a holiday what would it be, and something about kittens. Sure, some of the responses are heartfelt and heartbreaking but I’d rather not air mah dirty laundry that way.

Until today.

Whilst in my pre-caffeine part of the morning, I came across this suggestion:

Have you ever had to end a friendship?

Plinky’s prescience is impressive. Recently, I went through a mutual dumping of sorts. I said something horrible, immediately apologized (actually three times which in hindsight is two times too many), yet this former friend decided to take my bad behavior one step further and tell the targets of my insult what I had said.

Oops.

Over the next few tear-filled, angst-and guilt-ridden days, the realization hit me like a box of human shit that this friend of over 20 years was never a friend because she didn’t have to take my horrible insult to the next level. A phonecall coulda and shoulda been made asking me what was up & had that happened, then the chaos train would’ve stopped. See how that works?

Live and learn, plus it’s time to have my friendship radar adjusted. Fuck it–I’ll just get a new one.

Of course I regret my behavior and miss my former friend from time to time, and what happened has brought me pain, plus a healthy dose of introspection.

I take responsibility for my actions, and am done apologizing.

However, anger surfaces from time to time, which ain’t pretty because what I could say to them would melt the skin off their faces and cause their tits to tumble off their chesticles. It’s very tempting, but why would I want to waste such a wonderful combo platter of wit, wisdom and high-brow insults on folks who have proven themselves to be tone-on-tone half-wits and what’s the term? Frenemies? Yes, I’m using a term so associated with the early aughts, but it works well in this case.

When I was going through this, a good friend told me that this woman–plus the two I offended who I believed to be my friends–don’t deserve the tears I’m shedding.

He’s absolutely correct, and now there is peace in the dome.

Onward and upward.