Five Things-The Ping Edition: 4/14/14

1) Oh for fuck’s sake..they’re never gonna find that fucking plane.

It’s gone. Vapor. Too bad Malaysia lacked the balls to handle this whole mess correctly from the beginning. No wonder Al Qaida loves it there–y’all are clueless.

All of the possible runways long enough to support a Triple 7. (via NorthShoreJournal.org)

All of the possible runways long enough to support a Triple 7. (via NorthShoreJournal.org)

As much as I’d like to think the crew and passengers are safe, they’re not. It’s heartbreaking, and the families didn’t have to go through this shit storm.

 

2) One thing I’ve discovered is that if you get enough coffee in me, I can sing just like Carly Simon. True story.

 

3) Update to number 2: Add pot with the coffee, and I can sing just like Carol Channing.

 

4) One of the fun things about being a writer is if anyone fucks with you, you can write about it. Put it down on paper, in blog, book, or even on the bathroom wall. One doesn’t have to write it out verbatim which is nice. Plus, writing it out word-for-word could land you in court. I had this happen to me recently–being verbally berated for being me. I honestly don’t know where it came from, and I’ll admit it stung a bit.

Kinda like a kick to the tits when they’re sore–you know, like right before menses starts.

I told a few friends that being called fat and ugly wouldn’t have hurt so much.

However, almost as quickly as it entered my soul, it left and being the creative type that I am, I immediately wrote it all down for future use. It’s been put in the holster and will surface at the primo moment.

Until then, anything you want to say to me, g’head and mail it to my ass.

 

5) It’s PROBABLY not a good idea to fuck with an airline on Twitter about Al Qaida.

(via NY Daily News)

(via NY Daily News)

It gets better. Really.

(via Uproxx)

(via Uproxx)

 

When they made you dumb, they made you really dumb.

(via Uproxx)

(via Uproxx)

Five for Friday: September 27, 2013

Another work week has come to an end. While for me, the one who’s been unemployed for about 140 weeks, it’s just another day. To me, days just flow into one another. One doesn’t have more significance than another. They’re all the same to me.

I’m not being a Debbie Downer, it’s the truth. This is my life these days.

I’m living the dream, folks.

1) Who knew that Portland would have one of these?

(via CasaDiablo.org)

(via CasaDiablo.org)

I haven’t considered working there–not yet. But, it is tempting. I didn’t find this whilst trolling for jobs in Portland, I found about it via the media. Turns out, New Jersey’s Great Hope to Save ‘Murica From Itself has been embroiled in a milquetoast imbroglio with a ‘stripper model weirdo’ who peels her clothes off for moola at a vegan strip club in Portland, Oregon.

Wait..what? Who cares about the politico having secksy time via Twitter with a woman he ain’t supposed to that’s been done too much and is now very boring. Yawn. But…um.. A VEGAN STRIP CLUB? Get the fuck out! Now, I do understand the allure of vegan restaurants, vegan grocery stores, vegan vacations…but a strip club? Like knowing that the peelers don’t wear animal products and that the food menu is vegan. Yeaa haa. Super. How PC. Very cool, very hip.

One question: Who goes to a strip club because it’s vegan.

You’re doing it wrong. Or, it’s so right that it just blew my mind.

2) Food of The Gods.

Screen shot 2013-09-27 at 1.51.00 PM

 

It’s Oreo Peanut Butter. I can die happy now.

3) Ahhh…. my hometown. From DNAInfo.com

Prof’s Former Student Arrested after Crush Turned to Stalking, Police Say

“COOK COUNTY CRIMINAL COURTHOUSE —  A former Harold Washington College student’s crush turned criminal when she was arrested for stalking, authorities said.

Ghemeilia Butler, arrested 10 times for trespassing at the city college and for stalking her old teacher, “imagined in her mind that the two of them had a relationship.”

(via Chicago Police Department)

(via Chicago Police Department)

Ok, ok…I understand how some folks get all ‘hot for teacher’–I think that’s a very common occurrence. Those crushes usually disappear within a week, or by 4th period. But, this is a 34-year old woman, and she was in college and the whole thing is just stinkin’ weird–especially this part:

“Butler was a student of the unidentified professor for only half a semester in 2011, Assistant State’s Attorney Lorraine Scaduto said.

Scaduto said Butler has been arrested 10 times for trespassing and violating an order of protection the teacher has against her.

Butler also sent more than 500 pages of emails to the professor, at one point suggesting that the two “get married and live in the victim’s classroom,” Scaduto said.”

Yep, I’m still cringing too.

4) And I thought meth was bad.

via MoralLowGround.com

Flesh-Eating Drug Krokodil Hospitalizes 2 in Arizona

(DANGER WILL ROBINSON!! Extremely graphic video!)

“Medical authorities in Arizona have reported the arrival of a frightening flesh-eating drug that’s sent two people to the hospital with horrific injuries.

KLTV reports desomorphine, commonly called Krokodil, is very popular among the poor in Russia, but until now, there has been little or no reported use of the homemade drug in the United States.

Krokodil, a potentially deadly mix of codeine and hydrocarbons such as oil, gasoline, alcohol or paint thinner, causes flesh to rot from the inside out and can result in users developing festering sores that resemble crocodile skin, hence the drug’s name. Users inject it into their veins, which causes severe damage to blood vessels and tissue and, in some cases, rots flesh so completely that raw bone becomes exposed. Although Krokodil is boiled before injection, potentially lethal impurities remain.

According to KSAZ, doctors claim the average life expectancy of a Krokodil user is about three years, as the drug literally eats addicts alive.”

You take this drug and you rot from the inside out. Then, you die. Does anything else need to be said on the subject?

Yes.

Russia is a shit hole.

And ..

Don’t fucking inject this shit into your body!

5) One of my favorite songs.

 

 

Dear Mike, Louie, Rush and Bryan:

Eat a dick.

Same goes for the news producers who are using social media to get to Sandy Hook Elementary School children with the hopes of interviewing them. You’re a disgrace to my profession.

Oh, and Rep. Louie Gohmert? I got nothing. Fucking bastard.

Rush.

Finally, seek help, Mr. Fischer because you don’t know dick about God.

 

PS-I’ll be back to my regular wit and snark later this week. Thanks.

Darwin Awards, Twitter-Style

My sympathy level has reached an all-time low.

Over Labor Day weekend in Ontario, California, five young men lost their lives in a car crash. Horrible. Sad. I am sorry for their family and friends.

However, my deepest sympathy is somewhat limited in this case. Turns out the driver, Ervin McKinness, 21, was drinking, Tweeting and driving. Even though it’s been proven that using any type of mobile device whilst driving can be deadly, many folks–mostly youngins–choose to ignore it. One would think that with all of the information out there about how dangerous it is to text/Tweet while driving that most folks wouldn’t partake in something so dangerous.

Not so fast. Enter #YOLO or “You Only Live Once” — a saying made famous by the performer Drake, which has since been turned into a popular Twitter hashtag used by Tweeters ranging from ordinary folks to Katie Couric. Apparently, young folks have taken this #yolo as a shout-out to do real dumb things, like drive drunk and Tweet about it.

It’s sad that the aspiring rapper/singer’s life & the lives of four others were cut short by his stupidity.

What irritates me about the Vibe.com article is this part: “Ervin McKinness, 21, died in the car crash, which police say occurred around 1:40AM on Labor Day (Sep. 3), but approximately twenty minutes before the deadly accident, the 21-year-old sent out a tweet that could have saved his life if someone had intervened.

Intervened? How exactly–by driving around, calling him as an attempt to talk some since into him? Hey, here’s a novel idea, how about not drinking and driving? Seriously–how fucking stupid, in this day and age, do you have to be to realize that alcohol consumption and driving do not mix? Is this article saying that this horrible accident was not the driver’s fault? Does the author of the article, Charley Rogulewski, even follow and understand Twitter? If he did, then he’d know that most Tweets are bullshit, and only capture the attention of the reader for about a nanosecond–unless it’s porn, of course. Is the po-po supposed to monitor Twitter like a hawk? Think about it–If the cops were monitoring Twitter for possible criminal and life-threatening Tweets, crime outside of the Twitterverse would be out of control.

This crappy crap pisses me off.

Or, is this an instance where social media failed too?

Putting on airs

There comes a time during long-term unemployment when a gal has to figure out what else she could do for a living. It would have to be something she’s good at, enjoys and will sustain her for a lifetime. While pondering my attributes, I decided to focus on my strengths — my intelligence, sense of humor, wicked wit, strong writing skills, wide knowledge of film making, and a built-in asshole detector — just to name a few.

A few friends have suggested I open my own business (doing what? Being a smartass doesn’t pay all that well). Small problem with starting  a business —  you kind of need a product to sell, and way to get and keep customers. I love how friends and acquaintances feel so triumphant when they tell me to ‘start my own business.’ That smugness is quickly dashed when I tell them I’m not an entrepreneur and not interested in ‘starting my own business.’ What’s truly is sad is they haven’t been paying attention and don’t know me well at all.

And, frankly, I’m sick of building my ‘brand’ and trying to sell myself to others. What brand would that be? Getting folks to click on ads on my blog is not my idea of ‘brand building’ — it’s bullshit and not worth the .001 cents I would get per click. While I’m at it, Tweeting and re-Tweeting my blog posts with the appropriate hashtags is not my idea of ‘brand building.’ Unless, of course, my ‘brand’ is porn because we all know that sex sells.

Until I spied this. From Untapped.Sf

I’ve edited it a bit since it’s waaay too long. Maybe Untapped.Sf should hire an editor.

Urban Profile: Jacki and the Business of Farting…for the Camera

Why didn’t I think of this?

Here’s a fact: WOMEN FART. Yep, we do. We belch, fart, rub one off every once in a while. We flick our nipples, use vibrators, pick our noses, scratch our asses, and walk around our abodes nekkid (shut UP).

In other words, we’re human.

With that, I don’t know why folks are getting their knickers in a twist about some broad who farts on video for money.

I met Jacki at a dance class three years ago. I remember noticing two things about her right off the bat. The first was a large, u-shaped scar on her chest that she made no effort to hide, and the second was just how open and upfront she was about…well, everything. Within minutes of meeting her, I learned that Jacki is, in her own words, a fetish video producer (more on this later), and that a few years prior she had had a life-saving lung transplant (hence the scar) born of a rare respiratory illness.

But first, who is Jacki and what does she do? Quite simply, this Bay Area native is a producer of farting videos. Her videos, which are posted on various fetish-exclusive sites are downloaded and paid for by hundreds of consumers. These video clips, featuring Jacki in various stages of undress, farting noisily into the camera, fulfill a niche community of men who get off on women farting. Yes, you read right. Men watch her fart and tell her how hot she is, how hard they are for her and her farts, and how much they want her to sit on their faces and fart on them.

Fetish isn’t something new to Bay Area folks. As a city that celebrates nudity, ass-less chaps, Kink.com and the Folsom Street Fair, San Franciscans are generally unfazed by what our more conservative counterparts call “sexual perversion.” But Jacki, my girl-next-door friend does not fit the typical profile of a San Francisco sexual deviant. With her fresh-faced cheeriness, completely unblemished skin (no tattoos, no piercings) and Euro-chic dress sense, Jacki looks like the furthest thing from a fetish girl. She jokes:

“When people hear that I’m in the fetish business they think latex, S&M, piercings and dominatrix whipping stuff. Seriously Suicide Girls is so 1998. We’ve moved on to farting people!”

 I am speechless. Why the hell didn’t I think of this? I’d be a gazillionaire by now had I done this first. Thank god for fetishes. Seriously.
Immersing herself full time in the world of selling fetish items, Jacki quickly became highly sought after. She soon transitioned her business from selling used items such as shoes and underwear (and tempting fate by shipping these items with the US Postal System) to filming and selling only fetish videos on the internet, her specialty being fart videos.

Her vidyas are plotless, last anywhere from five to ten minutes in length and are for sale via her website (which she doesn’t want posted). Candid is the name of the game with Staci — she just turns on the camera and let’s ‘em rip, but not after telling her viewers how bad she needs to cut one. Charming. And, what’s even better, is she’s basically a gal-next-door type. How refreshing, but the gal-next-door turn-on bodes well for someone like me, who looks like she’s just been found bound and gagged in someone’s crawlspace right next door, and is in dire need of a shower and a shave.

What’s even better about Staci is she’s a true Philosopher Queen when it comes to farting on camera, and what works and doesn’t. Also, her dietary needs that are helping her become as famous as Le Petomane. Spoiler alert — her roughage requirements aren’t that extraordinary.

“All farts are not created equal. Some men like farting girls in underwear, some men only like white underwear farts, some like thongs, some hate thongs, some like farts through jeans, some like bare-bottom farts, some like women farting on furniture, like chairs, or couches or mattresses. … Kashi cereal. I had some this morning, and now I’ve got so much gas!” she groans. “Raw cabbage will do it too, but who wants to eat raw cabbage?”

I’m in awe of this woman because she obviously isn’t filled with the crippling WASP prudishness that invades every single cell in my body. If I didn’t have family OR friends, I’d make over-40 farting vids because you know damn well there’s a market for it.

What makes me say something so bold?

“If you have a sense of humor about farting, you’ll stay young.”

Dick Soup

Or Dick-on-a-stick, or Prick Pate, Cock au vin, Scrodicken, Testes a la pesto … so… many… possibilities …

I can think of a man or two I’d like to do this to –not the cooking/eating part of course.

(from WPIX.com)

Man Cooks His Own Genitals, Serves Them To Diners

I hear it tastes like chicken.

I was so disappointed when I heard this DIDN’T happen in Florida. But, it’s good to know that human flesh consumption isn’t illegal or frowned upon in Japan. And yes, they’re one of the more civilized societies.

Did any women pay for this meal? Of course not! We don’t pay money to eat dick.

“TOKYO, JAPAN (PIX11)— “[Please retweet] I am offering my male genitals (full penis, testes, scrotum) as a meal for 100,000 yen …Will prepare and cook as the buyer requests, at his chosen location,” was the message that Japanese chef Mao Sugiyama sent out to his Twitter followers on April 8th.

While it may have seemed like a joke, Sugiyama, a self-described “asexual” from Tokyo, was absolutely serious.

In Japan there is no law against the consumption of human flesh, and his bizarre offer attracted 5 diners and many more onlookers, according to the Calorie Lab. The calorie-based food site reportedly called the police after seeing Sugiyama’s tweet, only to be told that there was illegal about what he was doing.

Sugiyama, 22, underwent an operation at an area hospital to remove his penis shaft, testicles and scrotum — making sure that his meat was treated hygienically and that all of the proper waivers were signed by the diners.

The intrepid foodies paid roughly $250 each to feast on Sugiyama’s genitals, which were cooked and garnished with button mushrooms and Italian parsley. Shigenobu Matsuzawa, 29, was one of the five diners and described the meal in a recent blog post. He said the penis was so rubbery and tough that it almost bent his fork, and after a few chews of the severed member he spit it out. The testicles he described as being hard on the outside but filled with a gelatinous center that tasted both fishy and gamey. Sugiyama reportedly told diners that he would be uploading his recipe to the site cookpad.com.

Very graphic photos of the bizarre culinary event are included, view at your own discretion.

I hope my parents don’t read this post.

Cake baby

I just have to weigh in here. But first, I must preface this post with that fact I’ve written about such odd soon-to-be-parents & new parents behavior before.

This latest trend? I’m at a loss.

Well, not really.

From the NYT. God love ‘em.

(The text has been edited for space.)

A Boy or Girl? Cut the Cake

“THE house was filled with balloons and confetti, the chips and artichoke spinach dip were ready, and the guests, about 25 of them, were decked out in team colors, ready to cheer. Minutes before the party kicked off, they eagerly cast votes on the outcome.

But this festive gathering, held recently at the Miami home of Carolina and Carl Marrelli, was not a Super Bowl celebration. The decorations were all in very un-N.F.L. pinks and powder blues, and the sides involved were “Team Boy” and “Team Girl.”

“Team Boy” and “Team Girl”? Oh, this has got put-me-out-of-my-misery-with-a-pointed-stick-that’s-been-dipped-in-a-raging-festering-herpes-sore written all over it.

Joe and Ashley Brickner found out they are expecting a daughter.

“This was a gender-reveal party, during which expectant parents share the moment they discover their baby’s sex, unveiling results of the ultrasound test among loved ones (often replaying the moment later on Facebook or other social media). It’s the rare surprise party that people can give for themselves.

Until recently a little-known practice, the concept is quickly becoming a pre-parenting custom, a dress rehearsal of sorts — or sometimes a replacement — for the baby shower. In a culture where many expectant parents feel obligated to tweet their pregnancy announcement, live-post their ride to the hospital via Instagram, and Skype the baby’s first smile, it’s the latest example of one of parenthood’s formerly private moments becoming a matter of public consumption.

In the last year alone, the number of gender-reveal party discussion threads on BabyCenter — one of the most popular Web sites for new parents, with 11 million visitors a month — has rocketed to 282, from 28, a spokeswoman for the site said.”

With the meteoric rise in the popularity of social media, people now feel that everyone who inhabits this rock and has Twitter, Facebook, Fuckbook, Tumblr, Google+ et al accounts, needs to be privy to every single thought (including the most mundane), movement, reaction, dirty image, achievement, puppy & kitty image, vidyas of babies giggling/wretching, song choice et cetera, et cetera, at the very moment these events happen — no matter what. What’s even more disturbing is there is an audience for these events — a very large one, in fact. Some folks are friends with the poster, but if you tweet your personal life and you don’t have your settings set to private, millions of fellow Twittererersss will be privy to that twitpic of little Milo crowning through a hastily done episiotomy. Yummo. Why is this happening? Is it ego run amok?

Are expecting parents the new media whores?

“On YouTube, the first video of such an event dates from 2008. It shows the expecting parents simply opening a sealed envelope containing the ultrasound results before friends and family.”

YouTube shoulda seen the future and outlawed the future. Fuckers.

“A handful followed in 2009 and 2010. But in the last six months, more than 1,800 gender-reveal videos were uploaded onto the site.

Parents typically arrange for the ultrasound technician to withhold the gender finding from them. The technician places the information Oscars-style in an envelope, which the couple might then deliver to a baker, who whips up a pink or blue cake, covering the telltale color with frosting. The couple discover the gender when they cut the cake amid shrieking in-laws and fluttering confetti.

“It gave us more time to cry, laugh, scream and just be free to celebrate with all of our hearts, rather than to be in some dark room with a total stranger,” said Ms. Marrelli, 34, who live-streamed her results (boy) and the cheering throng in her home to dozens of other friends and family members around the country.

I find it so hard to believe that anyone outside of the immediate family (and even this is a stretch) gives a fiddler’s fart about the sex of the baby. Just tell them where to send the gift and maybe they’ll stop by for the first time at Junior’s 10th birthday. And the real reason the in-laws are shrieking? Because they know that they’ll be asked to babysit all the god-damn time and won’t be able to offer any parenting advice because new parents these days know EVERYTHING.

Again — fuckers.

“It was a way to get everyone involved, and you experience this huge payoff after all the building anticipation,” said Brett Grayson, 28, a high school social-studies teacher in Irving, Tex., who can be seen getting misty-eyed in the video of the celebration he posted on YouTube. “I’m normally not emotional, but when I saw the pink cake, it was like a flash of me teaching her to drive and marrying her off.”

Let me paint a different, more realistic picture of what your darling daughter will turn out to be. First,  the over-programming you and your wife will inevitably do in your wee daughter’s first few years of life will turn her into a bitter, resentful 10-year old. By the time she’s 12 she will have stolen three cars; spent time on the high school lacrosse team’s stank-ass mattress they keep in the equipment closet for such situations, and plotting the demise of the entire honors program. How do I know this? It’s science.

“Creative decorating tips for the parties have popped up on design blogs, and handmade knickknacks for gender-reveal parties are sold on Etsy shops (one seller offers pink and blue question-mark-shaped lollipops, 12 for $15).

Ashley (0f course) Brickner, a fashion marketing teacher and expectant mother in Virginia Beach, found out about the concept a few months ago, when she ran across ideas for festive décor on Pinterest.

So she and her husband, Joe, held their own party a few weeks ago. Since they each come from large families who live nearby, it just seemed natural, they said, to make this private moment public, particularly in an age when the family is likely to get updates on the baby’s development on Facebook.

You know, folks, you there isn’t a law that says you must tell every sordid detail about bebeh’s development on the Facebook. You can keep it to yourself and maybe do something a titch more productive like bullying your friends into having an over-the-top baby shower for you and 100 of your nearest and dearest. Just a thought.

“They’re going to be very much a big part of the baby’s life, so we thought it was just a cool way to incorporate them,” said Ms. Brickner, 28, whose cake was pink.”

Shit howdy, they just want the cake, not the expectations that come along with noshing on it.

“In rare cases, the gender-reveal party turns into a comic misfire, like the video of the Woodall party last year in Kentucky, at which it became clear the baker had given them the wrong cake: it was white inside. (“Epic fail!” a male voice booms in the background.)”  I bet he sued everyone in that bakery and put contracts out on the future children of the owners, the landlord’s family, the suppliers, the people who drive the supplies to the bakery, the people who breathe the air around and inside the bakery — you get the idea.

At increasingly popular parties, a baby’s gender is revealed via pink- or blue-colored cake.

Carl and Carolina Marrelli live-streamed their party.

Toni White

A pink shoe in the cake signified a girl is due.

“Donna Vela, who owns Little Angel Announcements, an online stationery store, said she began getting requests for gender-reveal party invitations about a year ago and now gets several orders a day.

“I think it goes with today’s Facebook generation that shares everything with everybody,” Ms. Vela said.

Indeed, Brooke Flatt, 24, sent out invitations on Facebook to the gender-reveal party she gave in February at Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst in New Jersey, where she lives with her husband, Airman First Class Bryan Flatt, 26.

“It was an excuse to throw a party,” said Ms. Flatt, who streamed the event live on Ustream for relatives in Mississippi. “We had cocktail food and I gave out cards for people to guess the weight, hair color and eye color for me to put in a scrapbook.”

The cake, which turned out to have pink icing between the layers, was decorated on the outside with bumblebees and the message: “What will it bee?”

Buddy Valastro, the host of the “Cake Boss” television show on TLC and the owner of Carlo’s Bake Shop in Hoboken, N.J., says that he makes several gender-reveal cakes a month, which cost $100 to $1,000.

“Some people go crazy and want something totally elaborate,” he said, such as multitiered cakes with startlingly lifelike fondant babies on top. “I think it’s a cool way for people to find out what they’re having.”

But Greg Allen, 44, a filmmaker in New York who also writes a blog for new fathers called daddytypes.com, said he found the trend baffling.

“Creating drama around your baby’s gender seems so staged and fake,” said Mr. Allen, who found out the sexes of both his children the comparatively old-fashioned way: with his wife in a sonogram examination room. “The whole connection of cutting into the cake to find out, like it’s a stand-in for the uterus, is sort of sickening.”

Oh, I just fell in love with this man. But, now I want some uterus cake. What’s that? Oh right. Fucker.

Kimberly Wageman, 37, of Richland, Wash., avoided this association by having guests at her gender-reveal party bite into cupcakes, which had dollops of blue icing inside. Her baby boy, now 6 months, was her third child.

I’m sorry — she had a party for her third pregnancy?

“The first one, we found out the sex when we had the ultrasound, the second we waited until she was born and the third we had a gender reveal,” said Ms. Wageman, a stay-at-home mom. “I couldn’t say which was best because they were all such unique experiences.”

I hope that someday these folks will consider not over-sharing to be a ‘unique experience.’

Shitty news: The mid-week roundup

The past few days have been rough. First, a barbaric law in Florida has allegedly played a role in the death of yet another young black male. My heart aches for his family and friends who mourn Trayvon Martin, but this heartbreak doesn’t match the anger I have for the state of Florida for being the land of choads. Social media stepped up to the plate this time in a big, important way. If it hadn’t been for Facebook and Twitter, Mr. Martin’s death would’ve been another sad footnote in the history of violence aimed at young, black AMERICAN males. This shouldn’t be happening in this day and age. This country has made leaps and bounds with regards to other aspects of social justice, but we’re lacking when it comes to the African American community.

Yes, yes, yes…how would I know how it is seeing that I’m a well-educated  white woman from an upper-middle class family? First and foremost, I’m a human being and I view all human beings as equal. A relatively rare attitude as of late, since some of my white brothers have their knickers in a twist over the fact that we have a black POTUS, and believe that Mr. Obama is going to take away their ‘rights.’ Whatever the fuck that means.

What happened to Trayvon Martin affects all of us. With some it’s immediate and profound, with most of us it’s subtle. This type of senseless death chips away at the structure of American society little by little. I pray that justice will prevail.

Onward.

This guy needs to shuttie his pie hole. Folks who don’t listen to NPR or pay attention to when the media do an ‘Oops! Our bad!’ don’t know the whole Mike Daisey tale of whoa! In short, Mike Daisey is a guy who did a play/performance piece about the horrors of working in an Apple factory in China. Turns out, most of the yarn was fabricated but that didn’t come to light until after “This American Life” did a whole story on Daisey and his play. Note: TAL fact checks everything. EVERYTHING. Daisey lead them astray with his ‘facts’ and that’s where the trouble began. Then, TAL devoted yet another whole show to the fabrication. Got it. Should be the end of it, riiiight? Nope, now Daisey is blaming his wife when he should just shut it down, lick his wounds and do some serious soul searching because he doesn’t want to be known as the Stephen Glass of the performance art world.

Looks like my former governor will be going through some unfortunate changes whilst in the pokey for being all greedy n’ shit. That hair color is not his own–it’s manufactured then sent to drugstores between hither and yon where Mr. Barbers everywhere can buy it for their vain customers.

From the Chicago Sun-Times via the AP.

Blagojevich’s barber: Ex-gov’s hair is dyed,will turn gray in prison

“Rod Blagojevich’s barber says the former Illinois governor’s famously thick, dark hair is dyed and will turn gray within the first months of his prison term.

Peter Vodovoz, also known as “Mr. Barber,” has been Blagojevich’s barber for more than two decades. Vodovoz said Wednesday that the 55-year-old Blagojevich has dyed his hair for years.

Blagojevich reported to a Colorado federal prison last week to begin serving a 14-year sentence for corruption. A prison spokesman says hair dye is banned because inmates could use it to change their appearances in escape attempts.

Vodovoz says Blagojevich’s dark-brown dye will fade quickly, and he could be as gray as talk show host Jay Leno within three months.

When he was governor, Blagojevich was so obsessive about his hair he had a security official carry a brush.”

Hey gov, as the song goes — “A change would do you good.” It would do all of us good since I’m a bit weary of my homestate being the political laughing stock of this nation. Now please Rod, go away so us Illinoisans can get back to business as usual. Well, maybe not AS usual since that behavior tends to land our fearless leaders into buttloads of trouble with the Feds. Also, looking like Jay Leno ain’t necessarily a compliment.

Here’s another who should shuttie her yapper. What’s sad here is how the baby daddy wants nothing to do with his son. Shame on him. And shame on her for not wearing any make up. Knowing how this country is, she would’ve garnered a lot more sympathy had she tried to whore it up a bit during the initial interviews and investigations.

There’s something quite unappetizing about this. Gross. Art, schmart. I’ll say it again: Gross.

Next time, toss a salad in the way we’d all like to see. Orrrr….maybe not. You decide for yourself.

Finally … well, you’ll see.

Favorite Things 2011 — The McCrabass Version

2011 has been a heartbreaking year for me and other folks too.

Horribly so.

However, there were a few highlights that made me stop in my tracks more than once. Some made me raise my eyebrows, laugh and some caused my eyes to roll so much my eyes ached for a day or so. It was a memorable year in many ways — it forced me to grow up some, cry a great deal, laugh a lot and swear alllll the damn time.

On a the public side, 2011 brought to the forefront a real messed up election process that is spotlighting some of the most ignorant and dangerous candidates ever to star in the presidential election theater. It’s going to get worse before it gets better folks, but it makes for great article and blog fodder — not to mention all of the great comedy this upcoming election year will produce. Personally, I can’t wait even though I am dreading the headaches I’ll get from banging my head on the wall in frustration each time Newt Gingrich et al says something asinine — which will be always. I’m gonna need a lot of Aleve in 2012.

2011 also showed the world what a motivated, angry populace can do. What happened in Egypt, Libya, Syria and Tunisia (granted, the Tunisian uprising began in December 2010) stoked the fires of people everywhere. People are fed up with being shat upon and 2011 was the year they just weren’t gonna take it anymore. The Occupy Movement that’s happening in this country and elsewhere is inspiring and sad. Sad because people shouldn’t have to hold protests for basic human rights like food, clothing, education, healthcare and shelter. The arrogance of those in charge is appalling — especially in the U.S.

This country is not about shitting on those less fortunate while celebrating your success. Especially since laws here helped those folks achieve all they have.

As George Costanza so eloquently said, “We’re living in a SOCIETY!” Who knew that the fictional short, stocky bald man’s words uttered in the mid-90s would be so prescient.

So, my favorite things. It’s an homage of sorts to Oprah (remember her?), but no one is getting any donated gifts from sponsors here. Hopefully, you’ll laugh a bit, nod your head in agreement and keep coming back for more McCrabass in 2012.

These favorite things are in no particular order.

1) The GOP Presidential candidates. These folks help to keep me engaged, they make me want to educate myself further and help to deepen my liberal beliefs.

There is so much material here that I don’t know where to begin, so I’ll just say this: Anyone who thinks any of these candidates could run this country need to have their head examined. ‘Nuff said.

I’m sure I’ll be repeating myself in a few days. You’ll see.

2) Louis C.K. Now, I know Louis has been around for a long time, but in 2011, he found his voice. His tee vee show “Louie” is great stuff — it’s funny, heart warming and original. He doesn’t steal material like the insufferable and extremely unfunny Dane Cook. Louis reminds me of the brilliant George Carlin, and I think he’s going to get better and better with age.

Take a gander … Both clips are from a couple of years ago, but you get the idea.

And here …

3) Bikram yoga. It’s safe to say that I wouldn’t have made it through 2011 without Bikram yoga. Say what you want about Bikram Choudhury and his brand of yoga, but it works for me and countless others. To me, it’s not the same routine in every class because I’m not the same person in every class.

Bikram-Choudhury

Bikram haters — rest your sphincters. This isn’t your time to comment about how Bikram yoga isn’t yoga or that your brand of yoga is “better,” or to debate me. This is the time to shuttie yer yap yap and appreciate and respect the fact that your friend is alive today because of this yoga. Even if I’m not your friend, zip it.

4) Moroccan Oil. Again, this product has been around for some time, but 2011 is the year that McCrabass discovered it. My god this stuff is fucking awesome and it has made my lovely locks even lovelier. It’s liquid crack for the hair. Try it — you’ll be hooked.

5) Never having heard a Justin Bieber song.  I consider myself truly blessed.

6) Thundersnow. I’ve written about this before, but here’s the video of Jim Cantore freaking out again. It’s worth watching over and over and over.

7) Madison, Wisconsin. I have never been prouder of the city that houses my alma mater. But, I am miffed at Wisconsinians for electing such a heartless douchebag in the first place. Y’all were sold a bill of goods and you shoulda done your homework. Nevertheless, the coolest capital in the country made me proud once again, and it’s the only city north of Chicago I’d ever consider living in.

My heart belongs to Madison.

8) “Game of Thrones” series on HBO. I’m not a huge fan of fantasy tee vee shows, books or movies but GOT grabbed me from frame one. Not only did have a stellar cast, but the story lines were actually interesting. Plus, from a film making standpoint, it was technically brilliant. Can’t wait for season two which airs in spring 2012.

Two words: Peter Dinklage.

Three words: Jason Momoa = DAMN.

9) Writing. Finally, something I’m decent at. Let’s hope I can make some money off of it in the coming years.

10) Social Media. Say what you want about social media, but it’s here to stay. I love it. Twitter is like writing your own personal headline in 140 characters or less. Social media kept up with the protests in the Middle East and informs followers as to what else is happening in the world. It’s a wonderful tool with so much potential that shouldn’t be shunned, but embraced by everyone — no matter what your age is.

The beauty of it is, you can make it what you want. You can be as open or as private as you want. However, if you’re all about privacy, don’t bitch on Facebook about how you want folks to remove your info from their newsfeeds because you feel like your privacy is being invaded.

Give me a break.

If you’re that concerned about privacy, get the fuck off of Facebook and buy good stationary,  a decent pen and start writing letters. Until you decide to do just that, shut the hell up about how you feel your privacy is being violated on Facebook because someone isn’t hiding your comments from their newsfeed. Leave Facebook to those who can handle it and who realize that there’s really no such thing as pure privacy anymore. Newsflash: There never was such a thing.

Also, no one gives a shit about your comments. Seriously. They’re too concerned with their own lives and with trying to guilt their Facebook friends into writing inane status updates “proving” that they hate cancer, pedophiles, pollution and Republicans.

Me? Well, I use social media mostly for fun. I find it to be a wonderful tool for story ideas, keeping in touch with family and both old and new friends, and for wasting time.

It’s the coffee klatch for the new world.

Finally …

11) President Barack Obama.

Coming soon: My Least Favorite Things of 2011.

A weekend of longing ends

‘Twas a stormy weekend, which made the air smell like ass after each downpour. I don’t get it — it’s summer, yet the air doesn’t smell all that fresh and clean like it’s supposed to, at least that’s what I gleaned from those commercials about summertime fun. Also, I find these monsoon-esque, daily storms unsettling as do many others I know. Ambien kept me from enjoying the one that rolled through here late-Friday/early Saturday. There’s nothing like sleeping better through chemistry.

The rest of the weekend consisted of reading, writing and watching the tee vee. I couldn’t watch the goings-on between our fearless leaders because it’s the biggest farce so far this decade. Get over it folks, we have a black president. Quit being doooooshes and solve this thing already. The one piece of political news that made me smile was this. Looks like the tea bagger fuckery is imploding. Good thing too, their racism veiled as progress is embarrassing and counterproductive. That’s all I’m going to say about politics. If someone wants to pay me to write about politics, I’ll do their bidding. Until then, meh. I’d rather bitch, gripe and reflect on other stuff I observe.

Like this for example: It’s deja vu all over again. Yes, those shoes that are the staple of the preppy look are gracing the feet of folks who weren’t even alive during the first go-around with this once desired fashion staple. I had many a-pair because I was quite the prepster. But, I never owned that insipid
Preppy Handbook that many of my friends studied back in the day in order to live a more preppy lifestyle. What killed me about their dedication was that they didn’t realize the book was a joke. I didn’t have the heart or the guts to tell them either.

When I first spied these shoes, I thought they were called “Vajayjay.” I told you I need glasses.

I dig these haunting images. And, I feel better knowing this too. Where in the hell IS Montenegro? Feh — don’t bother telling me I need to learn more about countries ‘over there’ or sending the me the link — I don’t particularly care. I’m sure Montenegro is a lovely place filled with marshmallows and vodka.

We need more propaganda art like in the good ol days. This church is so eerie, I wanna see it up close & personal. Keep scrolling for ideas about what to do with that ship you’ve been looking to ditch.

Looks like I’ll be mapping my way to the St. Lawrence Seaway tomorrow.