And is it just me, or does that picture of him look like he's sitting in judgment over General Zod?
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
In the week before [Karla Faye Tucker's] execution, Bush says, Bianca Jagger and a number of other protesters came to Austin to demand clemency for Tucker. "Did you meet with any of them?" I ask.Can there be any more doubt as to how his little "Compassionate Conservatism" line was the biggest load of sh*t ever pushed onto the American Public? It's now even more clear how this man would want zero restrictions placed on him in terms of the use of torture. Brings to mind old Lee J. Cobb in 12 Angry Men, eh?
Bush whips around and stares at me. "No, I didn't meet with any of them," he snaps, as though I've just asked the dumbest, most offensive question ever posed. "I didn't meet with Larry King either when he came down for it. I watched his interview with [Tucker], though. He asked her real difficult questions, like 'What would you say to Governor Bush?' "
"What was her answer?" I wonder.
"Please," Bush whimpers, his lips pursed in mock desperation, "don't kill me."
Juror #8: "Are you his executioner?"
Juror #3: "I'm one of 'em!"
Juror #8: "Perhaps you'd like to pull the switch?"
Juror #3: "For this kid? You bet I would!"
Juror #8: "I feel sorry for you... what it must feel like to want to pull the switch. Ever since you walked into this room, you've been acting like a self-appointed public avenger! You want to see this boy die because you personally want it, not because of the facts! You're a sadist!"
[Three lunges wildly at Eight, who holds his ground. Several jurors hold Three back]
Juror #3: "I'll kill him! I'LL KILL HIM!"
#1 - The D.C. Metro continues to kick the ass of the NYC subway in pretty much every category.
#2 - Paris Hilton may still be a spoiled brat, but her family runs a great hotel.
#3 - This does not excuse them, however, for excluding HGTV from the basic cable lineup.
#4 - Strangers on a Train is actually a comedy.
#5 - Twelve piece brass bands spontaneously sprout up in Dupont Circle on Friday nights.
#6 - Ken Burns rocks the podium!
#7 - The Washington D.C. Convention Center was designed by the same guys who created the Star Wars Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II.
#8 - It's a sure bet that the only place you'll find a Frederick Douglas impersonator wandering around (and a damned uncanny one at that) is at a conference of librarians.
#9 - Catching a glimpse of Matthew Lesko only 10 feet away from you does not turn you into a pillar of salt (but you still might feel icky afterwards).
#10 - Eight hours trapped inside Reagan National Airport still beats five hours inside Amsterdam Schiphol Airport.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Anyway, MSNBC has a story up right now (via Newsweek) that should depress members of the NRA a bit. According to a recent study, there is a downward turn in the number of active hunters and fishermen in this country. Here's the headline graphic:
So my question after seeing this is not to the NRA, but rather to the folks over at Newsweek: What the hell does an old timer shopping for pistols at a gun show have to do with hunting?
Friday, June 15, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Well, so much for hurricanes.
I heard the reports along with most everyone else yesterday afternoon on the way home from work. I'm guessing most people took awhile to assimilate the information as the grocery stores hadn't hit critical mass when I stopped by to stock up on extras. I got home and found Mrs. Mosley had beat me there and was watching the television, transfixed. Yeah, satellite imagery of zombie attacks all across the globe will do that to you.
Once I got to working on the house, she shook out of her daze and asked what she should be doing. Man, she can be a cool customer in times of crisis. I told her to fill the bathtub and as many buckets as possible with fresh water. I made myself busy boarding up windows with whatever scraps of wood were in the laundry room.
In the midst of all this, there was one vital thing I forgot: weapons. I'm not a gun person and have never even fired a firearm before. Would that doom us all? Not necessarily, I thought. I immediately thought of the machete I bought for chopping down those thick vines in the yard. If it isn't too rusty, then it could be an invaluable tool.
I opened the front door and looked around. Everything was still. We're in a secluded pocket of a neighborhood, so this wasn't very surprising. I ducked back in to the house and grabbed the baseball bat just in case. Mrs. Mosley protested, but I assured her the coast was clear and it was probably still too early to be encountering anything yet. I kissed her and exited the house, closing the door behind me.
In the backyard, I unlocked the doors to the massive shed that was built by the previous owner. It was packed with all sorts of crap, and I desperately scanned around the dark corners for anything useful. I spotted the machete immediately next to the door. There was some rust on the blade but it still seemed in good shape. Everything else (lawn furniture, stepping stones, a lawnmower I barely used) didn't seem very helpful. The blade off the Lawnboy could be fashioned into a second machete, but it was probably dull as...
And suddenly, I was glad I hadn't kept my yard clear of leaves and twigs. I turned to see the shambling form of a teenager about twelve feet in front of me and closing. I recognized him as this kid down the street who had this tiny scooter he rode around on. Every now and then, he would buzz by the house like some steroid-popping bumble bee. That scooter was annoying, to be sure, but I couldn't summon up enough bile from this alone to justify what I was about to do.
I realized I was carrying the machete in one hand and the bat in the other. Decisions, decisions. I quickly decided on the bat since this opportunity allowed me room to swing and the machete wasn't sharp enough yet. I never played baseball in my life. The bat was just a remnant of college days when a roommate moved out and left a bunch of his stuff for the rest of us to divide. I was felling oh so better for not having chosen the lava lamp.
He was getting close now and I had to act. I grabbed the bat tight with both hands, swung back ... and thwack!
Son of a bitch if that head didn't come clean off. The body followed the head to the ground and I stood looking down at it with the bat resting against my right leg. I didn't feel the urge to vomit upon my first killing, but then again it wasn't exactly murder, was it? I tore my gaze away and took one more look through the shed. I happened to look up and see that, in the rafters, was a lot more wood as well as a couple of old doors. And they looked like old solid ones to boot.
We're dug in, now. Miraculously, the electric is still on and the DSL is operating just fine. No clue as to how long that will last. This old cinder block house could last for awhile, especially if the two of us keep quiet and don't attract any more visitors. We'll be glued to the computer and, eventually, the radio.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
And amidst all the insightful articles I've read about it so far, one quote from the Salon piece is the most memorable and hilarious:
"Chase really does have the last laugh, here, making us pick apart lyrics to a Journey song, for Christsakes."
1. A cat may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. This includes transmogrifying from "adorable kitty enjoying a tummy rub" to "bandsaw" without warning.
2. A cat may not barf on the floor or, if the barfing is unavoidable, will only barf on kitchen tile, rather than the goddamned carpet.
3. When I am struggling under the weight of an overstuffed armchair, carrying it from the the living area to the kitchen so the cleaner guys can come and steam the seven gallons of cat barf out of the carpet, a cat (specifically: Louie) may not suddenly decide that this would be a wonderful moment to affectionately rub against my legs, or I swear to Baal I'M GOING TO DROP THIS MOTHERLOVING SOFA RIGHT ON YOU YA FREAKIN MORON!
Friday, June 08, 2007
An official-looking guy steps up to a podium in from of a crowd of anxious reporters in order to clear up some confusion:
"I'm just going to make this brief statement on behalf of A.R.H.A.D.L. The spreading of these erroneous and offensive descriptions has gone on for decades, and we find ourselves once again having to make a public statement. Racehorses do not urinate more frequently or at greater length than non-racing horses or, for that matter, any mammal of comparable size. This organized, publicly-sanctioned slander must stop."
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Fair enough. But do they really require Bush shooting off his mouth and restarting the entire Cold War in order to do it?
Monday, June 04, 2007
Second of all, as for the "Hollywood screws with yet another happy childhood memory" complaint, I wouldn't get up on my high horse just yet. I had happy memories of watching Speed Racer when I was a kid, too. Then I watched a couple of episodes after I'd grown up. Damn that show sucked. Remakes are A-OK by me if the source material wasn't very good to begin with. You can only go up from there.
But I digress. I ended up going to the IMDb entry for the film and finding out more about the guy who's going to play Speed, a kid by the name of Emile Hirsch. Seems the other big project he's involved with is the adaptation of the nonfiction book "Into the Wild". Now this I can get excited about.
In the book, author John Krakauer attempts to piece together the life of one Christopher McCandless, a bright kid with a great future who decided to live a drifter's existence. He ended up dying alone in the Alaska wilderness at the tender age of twenty-four. We know the ending from the start, but it's still a riveting book. We get to also see some of the author's own life during his quest as he draws some parallels between Macandless' life and his own. It's a fantastic read.
Looking at the cast list, I don't see that there's anyone playing the author, which is a pity. The framing device used in the book as Krakauer researches this kid would have transferred perfectly onto film with little effort. But no matter. The story still has the potential to kick some serious ass as a feature film. At the very least, it's subject matter is a hell of a lot more weighty than the possible "ruining" of a whisper-thin Japanese cartoon.
Friday, June 01, 2007
But, you know, this Quote of the Month business compels you to make sacrifices. So I rented Domino with the purpose of seeing some Delroy Lindo goodness to relay back to you. Trust Scott to piss me off even more by not even giving Lindo any memorable lines (Hell, the two guys from 90210 got better lines than him). So the following is what I'm left with, which is kinda funny and notable purely for it's oddness.
"Why would you use Jerry Springer as a platform for some kind of progressive race modification proposal anyhow, huh?"