Five Things: 11/12/13

1) I never thought that having a part-time news producing gig would turn me into a big sack of goo at the end of the day. But it has, and that’s a good thing. I can finally talk a bit about what I’m working on, and I must admit, it’s smashing.

If you’re interested, check out the site-in-progress. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to hear my dulcet tones reporting on allll sorts of goings-on and shenanigans.

I learned the hard way that I have a face for radio. Trust me, you don’t wanna see my mug. You’ll be scarred for life.

The app goes live on iTunes on December 3rd. For those of you who own iPhones and iPads, you can get the app for FREE FREE FREEE then. For Android users, you’ll have to wait a bit longer.

Stay tuned.

2) “I’m doin’ it for my kids.” Seems innocent enough, yes? You have a family. A mortgage, maybe a pet or two. Since families can be expensive, it’s best if both parents work, right?

(via GossipCenter)

(via GossipCenter)

Well, one would think this would be a good idea…yes.
Looks like the soon-to-be-ex Mrs. Tito Ortiz is returning to her former-career: Fucking on camera for shit-tons of money.

(via TeresAmerica.Blogspot)

(via TeresAmerica.Blogspot)

 

But, wait..if memory serves, didn’t Ms. Jameson spew at the 2008 AVN Awards that:

“I’ll never, ever, ever spread my legs again in this industry. Ever.”

Why? Well, she needs to support her family. Yes, I know that’s the reason she gave as to WHY she was leaving the skin-flick trade, but now she’s come full circle.
What a good mommy. Hope she kicked that boozin’ and drivin’ habit. And Tito.

3) Apparently, toilet paper isn’t enough for some folks. OR, some folks are so fucking lazy that they don’t know how to properly wipe their poo-covered evil eye, so some genius invented these:

(via Amazon.com)

(via Amazon.com)

I shit you not. They’re REAL.

You know, I’m not gonna go into it. For more info, just click here. If you like ‘em, I don’t want to hear about it. Same goes for if you use ‘em.

Of course, there’s a video.

4) Wanna know when you’re gonna take a dirt nap forever? Then buy this alarm clock. It’ll tell you when you’re gonna die every morning. That’s a good enough reason to get out of bed, unless today’s the day. Then, just lie there and wait for Death to spirit you away.

I’ve had a chance to ponder this and I think it’s brilliant! Imagine–alarm clock says you’re set to die in a week. What to do, what to do ….Hmmm..rubs chin..picks nose.. Maybe a crime spree? A drinking/meth binge? Run nekkid through your office and pee on your boss? Maybe diddle your boss or his/her spouse and FILM IT? Think about it–the possibilities are ENDLESS.

Via The Verge.

Alarmclock wakes you up with the time you’ll die

You’re welcome.

5) Oh, and here’s your 1980′s ear worm. Believe me, this hurts me more than it hurts you, but you must learn and that’s that.

Next time, just put the damn lotion in the basket, and you won’t be subjected to cheeeezeh listenin’ tunes.

 

 

The Jiven’ Five: 10/9/13

Sorry I’ve been so quiet for the past week or so, but I’ve been busy…wait for it…WORKING. Yep, McCrabby managed to land herself a part-time–possibly temporary– gig. I can’t go into details just yet, BUT it does allow me share my gifts of writing, yapping and telling stories. Of course, the bottom could fall out and I’ll be back to keeping the couch down and yelling at kids to stay out of my liquor cabinet.

1) Ok, if I ever spied a man wearing such a tie, I’d have him arrested. This just screams douchebag.

A sampling courtesy of KickStarter.

A sampling courtesy of KickStarter.

Apparently, this new fangled neck wear is all the rage among …well… I don’t know who or what for that matter. Hmm..maybe I need another image. You know, one that shows the Shortti in action.

(courtesy KickStarter.com)

(courtesy KickStarter.com)

On second thought, I’m gonna have to slap on a big NO on this one.

Next!

2) Umm…..

(via Facebook/Business Insider)

(via Facebook/Business Insider)

I just got off the phone with my lawyer about going into the masturbation facility business. I’m gonna make a wad of cash building places where folks can quietly go blow their wads. And y’all thought I didn’t have any bidness sense. Haters.

Turns out our military industrial complex ain’t too keen on Marines choking the chicken and she-boppin’ all over Afghanistan. In fact, they’re so turned off by it that the powers-that-be concocted the above warning and posted it inside all of the porta-potties on the bases. Some on the inside think it’s a joke with one medic saying that you can’t get anything via semen (well one can get pregnant) unless an open wound happens to be in attendance. Eww. I couldn’t care less if Marines are playing with themselves..seriously. They’re in a shitty part of the world, fighting an even shittier war so why NOT let them diddle their puds every once in a while? Sheesh. It’s the least we can do.

3) I am very curious about this.

Screen shot 2013-10-09 at 9.31.24 AM

 

I’m morbidly curious. There, does that explanation sit better with you?

4) Oh goody. He’s single again.

(via altmalcontent.wordpress.com)

(via altmalcontent.wordpress.com)

Too bad he didn’t have the cajones to JUST age gracefully. He looks like one of my Il Bisonte handbags.

5) You really wanna know why I’m easing into veganism? Here’s one of the many reasons. H/t to Mother Jones.

40 Percent of Your Chicken Nugget Is Meat. The Rest Is…

bones, nerves, skin, feet, eyes, hair, claws, intestines, arteries, Republicans, herpes scabs, pus, scar tissue, Rick Santorum, afterbirth, varicose dick veins, egg shells, Brook Astor’s crotch, Pig Newtons, shedded snake skin, haggis, panty scrape, meconium, Putin’s asscrack sweat, Laplander jiz, Rice-A-Roni, John Boehner’s gin-soaked salty nutsack and pubic lice.

Ok, I went a titch overboard there, but you get the general idea. That shit’s bad for you.

 

 

Dawg Daze

Why, yes–I am back.

For the moment at least.

I’ve been buried in a story about this dead gal, and while it’s been quite the education, it has also taken over my life for the past month. I’m done and now I wait.

Yeah..yeah..yeah…I know we’re in the Dog Days of Summer and my three readers are probably either on vacation in Branson, or in prison. See, I figure that it’s been a while since I’ve paid any attention to this blog, it’s best that I don’t jump in–tits first–since most of my writing for the past month has been about serious stuff. I don’t know what’s funny anymore.

Fortunately, I have my fellow humans to once again prove to me that we live in a world that is always chock-full of weird and wacky shit. So, attention must be paid.

You know what? Sleep is so overrated. It is. Eight to 10 hours of shut-eye a night is for pussies. I’ve been an insomniac for years, and I’m not *quite* sure why my body/mind doesn’t require sleep, but I have a damn good idea as to what might be one of the many causes.

All I can say is HOLY FUCK.

New Spider from Laos Named after Actor Dominic Monaghan

I don’t give a red rat’s ass that there’s a spider named for some actor, it’s the fact that Mother Nature has decided that this world needs another fucking spider. Why a spider? WHY, DAMN YOU?!!? Is a new species of spider *really* necessary? Why not something harmless like a new horse species? Or an even hedgehog? (like that’s possible)

I’m off to buy a hermitically sealed house.

Oh… this kid needs therapy. Peepee whacking in this case should be done by someone with sharp stick. Yes, I understand this is what young lads do, but there is something fakakta about a ‘tween jackin’ it on mom’s Martex towels she got on special at Macy’s.

Yeah..yeah..yeah…Anthony Weiner. Big whup. You’re a choad, not because you were sexting (I mean really, who cares?), but because you said you weren’t going to do it anymore after your last very public “oops.” Plus, you think that New Yorkers are stupid, which we all know ain’t the case. True story–New Yorkers will always be the first ones to tell you just how smart they are. *YAWN.* What I love about this story is how the word ‘slutbag’ is now part of the McCrabass vernacular. The said thing is, Barbara Morgan will probably get a new job before I do.

I like this hed better: “Monkeys throw poo at selfish people.” Too bad the story isn’t about poo-flinging because that would be something I could get behind.

Finally, I am a journalist because I hope to cover a story like this someday soon.

Passenger said he only wanted to travel together with his ‘beloved’ pet
Screen shot 2013-08-02 at 8.48.17 PM

Aaaand I’m done.

 

Boned

Why am I surprised when an infamous person’s 15 minutes of fame is extended thanks to the brilliant idea of making a sex tape?

I keep hoping that humanity will man-up and put the kibosh on this phenom and actually heap huge rewards upon those of us who worked out asses off and played by the rules. But, as long as there’s a buck or two–or a million–to be made, Z-list celebs and their penchant for recording every fucking move for their half-wit fan base will continue until the sun explodes and kills us all.

Let this sink in and we’ll discuss it.

From The Daily Beast.

Report: ‘Teen Mom’ Signs $1M Porn Deal

“Looks like Farrah Abraham’s “sex tape” is being made into a porno after all. The Teen Mom star reportedly inked a nearly $1 million deal with Vivid Entertainment for the release of her tape, after initially claiming it was for private use only. The porno with James Deen allegedly comes with a classy title, too: “Farrah Superstar: Backdoor Teen Mom.” While most suspected the tape was good old-fashioned porn, Abraham and even Vivid founder and co-chair Steven Hirsch ran with the “sex tape” ruse for a while. Deen, meanwhile, tried to set the record straight that no one would believe it was for private use. “I said I’m like the worst person for this job because, not to be arrogant, but people are gonna know me,” he told The Daily Beast.

farrah.abraham.500x332

For those of you who don’t know who Farrah Abraham is, she is one of the stars of MTV’s reality series “Teen Mom.” Like all of the participants on that show, Farrah realized that as soon as her water broke, being a teen mom just plain sucks wang because not only does she have to deal with the trials and tribulations of being a teenager, she’s also a new mom! From what I’ve heard, being a new mom at any age is the toughest gig around. From time to time I would watch the season which featured Farrah, but had to stop due to the chronic laryngitis I got from yelling at the tee vee.

Admittedly, Farrah was different from most teen moms featured because her baby daddy died in a car crash prior to the birth of their daughter, Sophia, so she didn’t have worry about which baseball cap the baby daddy would be wearing when he picked up their kid for a play date with his new girlfriend’s kid. Or whether or not his facial hair was properly cared for.

Admit it–that’s mighty sad.

However, throw in her porn paramour, James Deen

main_308960k

 

the sage advice of the King of All Snake Oil Salesmen, Dr. Phil,  and we can use an egg timer to tell us exactly when she’ll be spit out of the ass-end of the porn industry. Well, that and the fact that she’s about as bright as a dove bar.

Am I completely surprised by this? Nah, but what this tells me is I need to have a teen mom, make a sex tape and collect a sub-mental fan base.

I’m going back to bed.

Now What?

I’m back.. sort of. I’ve been in a funk for the past few weeks–job rejections and weird personal stuff–good, bad and sad–have sidelined me for a bit.

Y’all ain’t rid of me yet, though. You’ll see soon enough.

First, some fun. Ahem.

Feast yer peepers at this impressive hunk of man-meat, then check out Mickey Rourke.

Mickey-Rourke-Russia7

Question: When did he start looking like my dead great-grandmother?

Then, I found this.

maninspeedoI think the meaning of life is in this photo. I’ve figure it out, now let’s see what you can conjure up.

In the meantime, I’m in the early stages of developing a podcast of sorts with a few of my pals here in the Windy City, and well, beyond too. Since there ain’t shit in this town for work for a fab gal like myself, I gotta find other ways to fill my days that don’t entail booze, men, hooch and free Internet porn. I’ve got a damn fine brain and wicked sense of humor, I might as well put the two to good use. I also have smart, witty friends who I know would love to join in the fun.

So, please feel free to send me topic ideas and if you want to be a guest, well, we can discuss that too.

 

 

2012 — Your Year in Choads

2012 will be noted in the record books as one of the choadiest years ever. Why oh why would you make such a proclamation, Julia? Not only did we have one of the oddest years in human behavior, but the election shenanigans put the ‘crap’ in craptastic choadiness.

2012 was ugly from day one and it just got uglier and uglier as the year progressed– especially in the political arena. Needless to say, the folks on the following list not only embarrassed us the world over, but they sure did a bang-up job of making the human race look like a big pile of chunk-filled dung. (Note: John Boehner, Rush Limbaugh, Eric Cantor, Mitch McConnell, Bill O’Reilly, Hannity, Newt and the NRA are already in the Choad Hall of Fame, so mentioning them here would be redundant.) The vetting process was brutal and I know I’m missing some choads, but I’m sure they’ll be on my 2013 list.

So, without further adieu and in no particular order, I present to you–my loyal three readers–Your Year in Choads.

The Donald.

(courtesy of examiner.com)

(courtesy of examiner.com)

The thrice-married Trump never ceases to amaze me. He inherited millions from his father, then felt the need to continue to dumb down society with his tee vee shows and tomes. He has even sullied my city with a multi-floor steel phallus with great views, and overpriced units. That was a Trump I could live with–out of my league financially and matrimonily–but I never bought into his bullshit so ignoring him wasn’t a chore at all. However, he had to go and ruin it for me and everyone else by opening his fat yap about how the President isn’t a citizen and how the country was robbed during the election (even though Obama won the popular vote) with a series of ill-timed and uber-choady Tweets–which he promptly deleted. Oh and early in the campaign, he was actually a candidate. But, never fear, Trump will be back in 2013, and will be a bigger choad than Donald Trump. Notice how I didn’t even mention his hair?

Sheldon Adelson.

If Citizens United had a dick, Sheldon Adelson should be giving it blowies all the live long day as a thank-you gift. Yeah, I know. I have that image in my mental Rolodex too and I have no idea how to get it out of there. A brain transplant may turn out to be the way to go, and I’d be happy with an Abby Normal-esque brain at this point. The good thing is, Adelson’s attempts to buy the election failed the way the uterus supposedly does when raped legitimately. Ahem. Imagine the good Adelson coulda done with that money had he done something useful, like for instance, help his beloved Israel build a better defense system.

And speaking of legitimate rape, there’s Todd Akin.

I’ll let the magical combo of video and the Internets speak for Mr. Akin (who lost in November–big time–by the way). Akin’s advisers, the “doctors” who told him about how the female body “works”, anyone who has ever hung out with or believed in Akin, well, y’all are choads too.

Nikki Haley

haley try me

Choads are not limited to men, my friends. Nooo…never. Not only did Gov. Haley NOT consider Stephen Colbert for Jim DeMint’s now-vacate Senate seat, she doesn’t want nuthin’ to do with Obamacare even though her state, South Carolina, is desperate for the help. Like Haley’s fellow GOP governors, she’d prefer to pout and eat worms in the garden because the smart, black guy won AGAIN, and now his monumental, life-saving legislation is truly the law of the land. Basically, she’d rather fuck over her constituents to make a point than help them. That horrid attitude makes her one of the Choads of the Year.

Richard Mourdock.

“Even if life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that is something that God intended to happen.”

(courtesy HuffPo)

(courtesy HuffPo)

He’s rape’s champion and for that, he almost beat Rep. Joe Donnelly in the Indiana race for the Senate.

What’s even more amazing is some woman finds him fuckable.

Personhood Amendments/He-Man Woman Hater’s Club.

It’s safe to say the today’s GOP don’t like us ladyfolk very much. That hatred was evident in the candidates they nominated and the legislation/ballot initiatives that so many states tried to pass, or get on the ballots. Then, there was the kerfuffle over the transnatch ultrasound bill requiring all women in Virginia who wanted an abortion to have this lubed-up wand stuck up their hoo-hahs so they can see what’s dancing on their bladders. The best part? Women have to pay for this humiliation out of their own pockets because Lord knows the GOP doesn’t want to pay for it–hell, they’d rather protect guns than people, see. There are so many anti-woman stories that happened this year that writing about them would cause me to start biting my face again.

But, I’ll give you one more to chew on.   It’s the creme-de-la-creme of choady anti-woman fucked-in-the-head laws that some states in this great country–you know the one that is the most powerful & most advanced in the entire world–seem to love to pass. All of us ladies who still experience menses are pregnant whether we like it or not. That kinda sucks out loud.

Mike Huckabee

331123-mike-huckabee

Gosh, there is so much that can be spewed about the good Rev. Mike. He’s besties with Chuck Norris, his son likes to kill dogs, he’s has a love/hate relationship with weight loss, he blames gays for all of society’s ills, and a bunch of other assorted treats that are too many to mention.

But, this vidya demonstrates just how choad-a-rrific this man of god really is.

Jan Brewer

(courtesy ABC News)

(courtesy ABC News)

The weathered, ridden-hard-and-put-away-wet governor of Arizona is the greatest of all lady choads. She loathes people of color, has a pointy-anointy claw that she likes to point at the POTUS; loves guns; probably has nudie pix of Sheriff Joe Arpaio; allegedly shits Coppertone; kicks puppies; has a law that says all bleeding women are pregnant; is considering running for a third term; more than likely believes in Henrietta Pussycat but not climate change; and finally, contrary to popular belief, did NOT star in “There’s Something About Mary.”

theres-something-about-mary-20090615050344742-000

We Need a New Plague

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

Jim DeMint (R-SC)

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?

Lookie here

The McCrabass blog is a distraction for me–it’s fluff, it’s fun–aka it’s mental masturbation.

I consider my blogging as a sort of “Artist’s Way” minus the touchy-feely-I-was-once-married-to-Marty-Scorsese-but-he-dumped-me-so-now-I-write-how-to-books-for-wannabe-artists-aka-bored-housewives –but with box wine, chocolate and Bikram yoga. Oh and dark purple highlights and buttloads of salty language.

Simply put, I’m a writer who blogs for fun. I’m not into that brand-building bullshit. (Side note: what the fuck is branding anyway? Why are we supposed to brand ourselves to each other? What the fuck does it have to do with the price of eggs? It doesn’t help people get meaningful work, believeyoume. It’s basically a bullshit term made up by marketers. You’re only a brand if you’ve been heated up on the range where the deer and the antelope play, and used to tap some livestock ass.)

When I’m not thinking up and composing posts, I’m writing my book and looking for a gig. That type of writing is my true calling, along with journalism which I happen to do quite well when given the opportunity.

The following list is made up of folks who are great writers and use their blogs to display their dog-given talent. Some days they write more than on others by using words and images–or just words or just images–kinda like yours truly here. I’ve been reading these folks for a long time now and I suggest you check ‘em out. They write to write, not for the nebulous glory of Internet awards but because they love writing. Oh, and they all have something to say which is the mostest important aspect.

I’m not going to write up brief descriptions of their work because you need to do your own heavy lifting. You won’t regret it either.

In no particular order, if you may …

Reinventing the Event Horizon

Squathole

Lame Adventures

The Learned Fan Girl

Marguerite Darlington

The Musings of a Storyteller

Lloydville

Jonathan Turley

Rufino Cabang

CREW

UnfetteredBS

Robert Loerzel

Adventures By Kim

Violet Blue (NSFW)

Love Letters Are Dying

Herlander-Walking

Learn ‘em, know ‘em, love ‘em.

Trial notes, Days 1 & 2

I must admit that it IS nice spending time in a courtroom where I am not the center of attention. Ahem.

For those of you who are just tuning in, I’m covering the Obrycka vs. The City of Chicago and Anthony Abbate Jr. civil trial for Gaper’s Block. So far, it’s been challenging, frustrating and shitloads of fun. To answer your next question, as a matter of fact I DO have a twisted idea of what fun is.

During my time sitting on a hard bench in a cold courtroom, I’ve noticed a few things:

Journos are fucking RAUNCHY as hell (yes I knew this, but experiencing it in person is completely different). I sat next to two well-respected female journos and what they were uttering to me under their breaths about the trial made me blush. I had to disguise a couple of laughing fits with coughs. Fortunately, most of the people in the courtroom are illin’ so my ruse fooled no one.

With the exception of a few folks, including the judge presiding over the trial and her staff, those who work in the courthouse have this death-warmed-over pallor about them. I didn’t want to make direct eye contact with any of the older courtroom denizens for fear that I’d disappear in a puff of smoke.

All courtrooms need a drink cart for the observers. And a cake cart.

All courtrooms should have an actual court jester. The jester should distract the courtroom during sidebars, lead the jury in and out of the jury box the way a band leader guides a marching band, and highlight objections with a jig.

I could wear judge robes all the damn time. Think about it, you know this is a grand idea. You wouldn’t have to wear anything underneath it or you could wear whatever you wanted to. Me? I’d wear pajamas or sweats and Hooters t-shirts. Or, better yet, one of those obnoxious “Porn Star in Training” t-shirts because when you’re wearing a judge’s robe who says you have to display grace and class underneath it all.

Finally, I keep waiting for the attorneys to treat the witnesses as hostile. I wanna see sobbing on the stand. I wanna see the smug look on an attorney’s face after he or she makes a witness weep and wheeze. Also, I wanna see the judge bang her gavel so hard it breaks and hear her bellow “ORDER IN THE COURT OR I WILL CLEAR THIS COURTROOM!” Finally, I’m waiting for the judge to utter one of my fave smart-ass tee vee judge lines “You’d better be going somewhere with this, counselor.”

I’m only in week one of three, so there’s still a possibility that one of my hopes will be realized before the jury delivers the verdict.

Until then, check out my first installment here.

(courtesy somecamerunning.typepad.com)