Huntsman (spider) for President

Once upon a time, I was bit* by a Black Widow Spider.


I remember feeling like the skin around the bite was melting as if I had been splashed with acid. I remember sweating and having mild hallucinations whilst lying in a Los Angeles emergency room with a big-ass IV pumping fluids and a spider-venom nullifier into my veins . I remember feeling like hammered shit for about a week afterwards.

What this horrid little creature did was give me a newfound respect for arachnids. You’re probably thinking, “McCrabby, that’s cray-cray. You respect spiders after being bitten by one of most dangerous breeds ever to creep and crawl on the Earth? You need help, MACHT SCHNELL!”


From that moment forward, I didn’t smash spiders with fancy footwear; I didn’t shoo them out of my house; I didn’t sic the cats on them and I didn’t spray them with DDT. I followed the “live and let live” mantra. After all, the Chinese say that spiders bring good luck and shouldn’t be sacrificed. Uh huh.

Then, I was introduced to the Huntsman Spider.

The stuff that nightmares are made of.

Wait..the above photo doesn’t show the sheer fucking size of this beast.

This one’s better.

No one will hear you scream.

From what I’ve read, these arachnids live mainly in Australia. Not even in this hemisphere! Yee-fuckin’ ha! We’re safe! Whooopeee! Those big, ugly spiders CAN’T HURT US! Yesssssssss! We’re free, free, FREEEEEE!

Not so fast, McCrabby…

However, more digging brought creepy, sad news.

A version of the Huntsman has been found in Florida. Of course–IN FLORIDA. AMERICA’S WANG. Or, as my friend Squatty calls it the “Nation’s Dicktip.” You’d think that for once, FOR ONCE, Florida would give the rest of the country a break, but noooo! Florida couldn’t stop after unleashing George W. Bush on us. Nope. Or Marco Rubio. Or Gov. Rick Scott. (In all fairness though, all three men have given comedy writers comedy gold for years–even at the expense of this country’s sanity.)

This meaty spider just had to migrate there and set up shop. Greedy bastard. Probably wants free health care — yep. Probably is the first in line at the Early Bird Special each day and he hogs all the chocolate pudding too. Wanker. Probably has horrid table manners and takes his teef out to scare the grandkids who visit their meemaws and peepaws.

At least the arachnid Huntsman is a lot more interesting than the dull Huntsman.

*not my arm in the photo

What you see is what you get & then some

There’s something so magical about Coco.


Before you click away in utter disgust and decide to block my blog forever, maybe even report me for being a hack, a fraud OR worse–stooopid–please give me a chance. Who knows–you may even agree with me. If you do, you’ll be a better person for it.

I admire and like Coco because she doesn’t attempt to act smarter than she really is; she doesn’t pretend to be something she isn’t and is happy with who she is. Most important, she appears to not give a shit what others think of her. She’s a gutsy broad who puts it all out there and doesn’t seem to mind the negative press. Hey, she’s making a shitload of cash off of her look, is in what appears to be a happy marriage and cares about those around her. In my book, that’s huge. What do I admire about her the most? She’s not a skinny chick, is proud of it and celebrates her curves. How refreshing!

Coco’s a(n) (in)famous American woman who is comfortable in her own skin–a rare species here since we are trained from early on to despise ourselves for not being pretty, smart or thin enough. Or, for being too pretty, smart and thin. Those of us who dare attempt to break out of this hobbling, disgusting mold, are chastised and called selfish bitches. Hey, argue with me allll you want. Tell me I’m wrong with your so-called well-thought out arguments about how women have more power than ever before and I’ll listen quietly. Then, when you’re finished, I’ll hand you a stack of fashion pubs & suggest you take a gander at the photos and ads & hopefully you’ll see how all of the models are in dire need of a couple dozen Sliders–then try that lame-ass argument again.

The constant barrage of Biafra-esque thin women that grace the media, plus the multi-billion dollar diet & plastic surgery industries in this country, are constantly telling women we’re not good enough physically. Sure, we’ve made huge strides as women, but we’re still harshly judged by our looks over our intelligence and wit. If you don’t believe me, think back to how horrible folks were toward Hillary Clinton’s looks when she was running for President. Same with Sara Palin–yep, I said it. There was a lot of ridiculous attention paid to her looks–it even had me shaking my head because I noticed immediately that her room-temperature IQ was more dangerous and important than her appearance. Fortunately, anyone with a pulse realized that too–so we’re safe–for now.

Coco’s not like the Kardashians–who are desperately clawing their way up from the bottom of Crap Mountain to be taken seriously as something other than what they really are–fame whores. These sisters & Mama pimp would appear at the opening of Malaysian whore house if E! was in attendance. Sure, society is to blame for the Kardashian’s success–this culture celebrates mediocrity. How else would you explain Dane Cook, George W. Bush and the entire “Jersey Shore” cast?  But, I will give the K-Klan this much–good move on cashing in on your sibling’s sex tape. Who knew that having tape of your sister’s muff being munched on by a mustachioed gutter dick could prove so profitable?

I wonder what Camille Paglia thinks of Coco. No…. wait…nah…not really.

There is much to say about Coco and whether or not she’s good for us. Maybe I’ll write more about her later, maybe not. But I’ll leave you with what my pal Shannon M. said about this shot:

“That titty is way better looking than all of Janice Dickinson.”


When the sky went gray …

… You didn’t turn away/Somehow we had to stay together…

Nick Ashford died this week at the age of 70. Along with his wife Valerie Simpson, they wrote some of the finest lyrics in recent history, including “Solid” released in 1984. It was one of THE funnest songs EVER to sing along to. I have fond memories of driving the freeways of LA, singing along with my crappy radio not caring who saw, or even heard, my dulcet tones. It was probably more like screaming, but it was fun nonetheless, especially when I had a crooner-in-crime, like John Groom, singing Nick’s part.

Ashford’s death wasn’t the only notable music industry death this week. Jerry Leiber, who wrote such memorable songs as “Hound Dog,” “Stand By Me,” and “Is That All There Is?” with his writing partner Mike Stoller, died at age 78 on August 22. This morning, I watched a snippet of an interview he did for CBS back in the ’90s. The reporter asked why he and Stoller wrote mainly R&B songs, and I’m paraphrasing here, Leiber said that Black folks were nicer, cooler and easier to write for than White folks. That’s a helluva tribute.

RIP, Mr. Leiber. I doubt the music business will ever experience anyone quite like you or Mr. Ashford ever again.

Now, onto the FUN.

The East Coast was rocked by two huge-ass forces of nature this week: an earthquake and a hurricane. Having survived many an earthquake whilst living in LA, I was nonplussed about the earth shaking up things a bit. I watched the reactions of folks on Twitter and Facebook with the right amount of smugness. Sure, it’s scary, but what they experienced was nothing compared to quakes I’ve been through. It brought back memories of being semi-buried under debris right after Northridge in 1994.

Hurricanes are another matter. I’ve never experienced one–just the leftovers of the ones that mosey up the Mississippi River after unleashing their terror on the Gulf Coast. I was impressed by the preparedness by the states in the hurricane’s path.

Looks like lessons were learned after Katrina. I should fucking hope so. While we’re on the subject of music, this song is quite appropriate for Irene & her aftermath.

This site is awesome. The entries are only a few sentences, but they bring stirring and sometimes funny scenarios to mind.

What the shit is the matter with Florida? I know, I know, the answer is a long one but it has to be answered. Maybe not all at once, but something has to be said about the assfuckery that’s going on in America’s Wang. How the hell Rick Scott got elected is beyond me. Same with Marco Rubio. Both of these half-wits haven’t been paying attention to anything but their (probably) limp, tiny peens to get that what they’re proposing for the citizens of Florida is downright dangerous and stupid. Completely out of touch they both are, and if they’re considered the future of the GOP then the best solution is to pull back and nuke Florida from space. It’s the only way to be sure.

I’d take Blago over Scott any day. Sure, Blago’s a tool, but he’s OUR tool!

This is probably fake but, dammit, it’s fucking hilarious. I wish I could write funny too.


This is probably a smart move. One wouldn’t want to be upstaged by the smart guy.