Who's the Man With the Big, Black Balls? Bill Cosby!

That title was the punchline to a golfing joke I heard at a Cub Scouts camp out. I know what you're thinking, and yes, some kids were probably molested.
Many years later, Bill Cosby is an accused rapist? Coincidence? Actually, it was several years ago that he was first accused of rape, but no one cared because he paid his hush money up front and people got distracted by their flip-out cell phones and boy bands.
Is Bill Cosby a rapist? No. He's a serial rapist. Remember that Swedish dude from "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo?" He's basically him, but without the kickass secret rape-basement. A rapesment.
The question is: Does America really care as much as it think it does? Let's break it down:
America loves itself some criminal celebrities. Being a dirtbag celebrity rake in millions each year.You can get away with anything as long as you have enough name recognition in America. Don't believe me? Lindsay Lohan, Mel Gibson, Robert Downey Jr., etc. America loves a dirtbag as much as it loves a comeback.
But rape is a bad, bad crime. Doesn't that count for something?
No. Not according to the history.
Sean Penn? He fucking broke in his then-wife Madonna's house, beat her mercilessly and raped her. He threatened to kill her, but she eventually escaped. The fallout? Sean Penn is a millionaire with many accolades.
Michael Jackson? Did he butt-rape those little boys? Almost definitely. Why's he not in jail? For one: he's dead. If you need another reason: Thriller.
Mike Tyson has a new cartoon on Netflix where he solves mysteries. Wrap your head around that. Then remember he went to prison for rape.
Roman Polanski raped a thirteen-year-old girl, then fled to France, where he continued to be rich and sucessful. Many people have called for all charges to be dropped, despite the fact that he fucking did it and is fucking guilty as shit.
So yeah, there's four examples. Bill Cosby could be fully charged, go to jail, and then go on to be a multi-millionaire because America doesn't give a shit what you do, as long as you have had some sort of moderate success in the past.

Holy Hollywood Hacker

The world was recently treated to unsolicited -but very much desired- nude photos of some of the most attractive women on the planet thanks to one enterprising individual, or individuals. The FBI are currently looking for those involved, but it's unclear as to whether or not they're going to arrest them or give them a medal. It's like Christmas for your penis.
Meanwhile, various news outlets are trying to play the blame game using every possible angle about the violation of rights and privacy. No one's really stopped to consider that we've pretty much seen these women 99.99% nude. Kate Upton's claim to fame is being as close as one can be to a centerfold without technically getting nude. She's something of an oddity in this day and age where anyone can access porn at any given time. I've been confused as to why people are obsessing over one semi-clothed woman in a sea of bare tits and labias. Obviously, I see the appeal, (her tits) but it's kind of a retro-hipster obsession. hearkening back to a Baywatch era, or maybe even Mariyln Monroe. The difference is that Baywatch stars and starlets like Monroe still did porn. Kate's kept clean, despite showing her nips through a wet T-shirt and such. Going from a semi-transparent top to no top isn't that drastic of a change for anyone.
As for Jennifer Lawrence, she was Mystique. She was basically nude already except for some blue paint. There's very, very little left to the imagination.
So why all the excitement? It's like the Kardashian, or Hilton scandals in reverse. Does anyone still look at those two and think about the cocks they've seen them take? Of course they do, but not 100% of the time. Most of the time they're just laughing at how fucking stupid and annoying they are. Jimmy Fallon isn't going to suddenly blurt out, "I saw your tits!" when he's interviewing Jennifer Lawrence, or call her movie, "Mocking BJ." Give people some credit.

In Da News

I don't understand "media" sometime. Earlier this week, police foiled a suspected terrorist plot that was targeted against Canada Day revelers at the BC Legislature in Victoria. It was kind of a deal, even though nothing about the story made sense. It was supposed to have been a radicalized Islamic terrorist plot thought out by a porcelain white, drug addict and paintball enthusiast with mental issues and his drug-addicted prostitute girlfriend (saying "drug addicted" is redundant when the suspects are from Surrey). They were trying to emulate the Boston Marathon massacre, and if successful, dozens of lives could have been lost and hundreds more could have been injured. It would have been the worst act of terrorism on Canadian soil, making it our "9/11."
Barely a week later, and the same paper that broke the story is writing articles about a strip club using the phrase, "fresh meat," in their advertising. There's no trace of the story except for in the editorial page. Even on huffingtonpost.com you have to scroll down twice to find a mention of it, especially after the train explosion in Qubec.
Is it not newsworthy? Did they shoot their whole load at the starting gate and now there's nothing left to do but editorialize? If you were on vacation for about three days you'd never know it happened. Seriously, the story is FUCKED UP. Basically, the living stereotype for a Surrey resident went batshit crazy, converted to Islam, and tried to kill a bunch of people INDEPENDENTLY. All sources say that he didn't seem to have the wherewithall to pull off something like this, since he's a crazy drug-addict, and suspect he might have had help from outside sources, but there's no evidence of it. That means he managed it all on his own, despite all reason, which is somehow even scarier than if he had factual terrorist connections. With "real" terrorists, they have networks and link government agents can follow. If someone up and decides they're going to martyr themselves all on their lonesome, that's scary.

Ya'll Need To Stop Actin' Like a Bunch of Idiots

In the past while I've noticed a resurgence in PC (Political Correctness), which once reached it's peak in the 90's while I was growing up. This time around it's focused on fringe groups that were mostly ignored, or didn't exist five years ago.
There's been small changes, like First Nations now being referred to as First Peoples. Bi-racial groups are getting more attention that ever before with shows like "Key and Peele" focusing on the issue, but people still label President Obama as "black" as opposed to "bi-racial" because it's considered a bigger win for "blacks."  South-East Asians and East-Indians are getting noticed more too due to a larger media presence.Gays and Lesbians are more open about "coming out" to the point where it's not even shocking to learn a well-recognized celebrity is gay.
Those changes are all well and good and a part of a healthy society. On the other end there's people who have no clue what the fuck they're doing or talking about.
Today, for instance, Paula Deen was SHIT-CANNED for having admitted to using the "N" word (I think that word is NIGGER). The controversy isn't that she dropped the N-Bomb, it's that she freely admitted to using it. No one knows the context in which she used the word. For all we know she could have been hanging with her homies in the crib, sippin' 40 and listening to freestyle when she let slip, "Damn, nigger, that shit is tight," or something along those lines. She confessed to having used a word and profusely apologized for having used it, and basically lost an empire. Nigger is a racist, and hurtful word, there's no question about that, but this is a tree falling in the woods scenario. If no one know what you said, does it hurt anyone? I've said some pretty nasty shit about you behind your back. Am I being mean to you? Yes, but not to your face... your scrunched up James Franco face.
If she's trying to reform for her racist past, doesn't that make her a better person, or is it "once a racist always a racist?" Martin Luther King's dream of tolerance would never have worked if it wasn't for forgiveness. Can people stay mad at her? She's like Katie Perry as a grandmother that wants to bake you cookies.
That's just one example from today. The other comes from Mike Krahulik, better known as "Gabe," the illustrator for Penny-Arcade and co-organizer for PaX. Today, he was attacked for saying women have vaginas. Someone, likely a troll, decided he was being prejudiced against transgendered people. There was an immediate backlash against him, and he didn't come out looking too good.
Seriously, though, can we not define women as, "people with vaginas?" Do we have to include a fringe in there to satisfy everyone? Transgenered people are little understood by anyone, probably including factual transgendered people. They get lumped together with Gays and Lesbians to confuse the issue of human sexuality more than it already is. I personally take offense at anyone with a dick demanding to be called a "woman" in the same sense that I'd be offended at being asked to call an unlicensed acupuncturist a, "doctor." If you self-identify as a woman, that's your preference, not mine. I don't have your psyche profile and chromosone test on file to ratify your belief. If a woman comes up to me and tells me she's a lesbian, I'll believe her, or at least believe she doesn't want to fuck me. If a man comes up to me and tells me she's a woman, I'm going to have to ask to talk to a doctor, or at least see some pussy.
There's documented cases of people believing they're wolves. That doesn't mean they are, or that a doctor is going to give them a fur transplant. There's also people who have an intense psychological aversion to having more than one arm. I shit you not. It scars their psyches to have two arms and they'll attempt to amputate their own limbs. Why does a man not wanting to have dick get the special treatment? Is it not fair to ask that question? What you do with your own bodies is your own business, but don't be surprised if people don't, "get you."
My personal feeling is that we're all getting a little soft, or at least a little soft in the head. Two front-page stories in The Province this week were about a handicapped boy being "discriminated against."
This is that discrimination:

Horrifying, isn't it? It really breaks your heart, which incidentally is the title of that story. Look at that kid there, separated from the rest of his class because his WHEELCHAIR DOESN'T FIT ON A FUCKING BENCH. The mother started a shitstorm because her son was as physically close to the rest of his class in the photo without having to exit his medically necessary wheelchair and without him obscuring the rest of the children, who are all nice and centered. If you're a photographer, do you wan to inconvenience a disabled child by making him get out of the chair, or else inconvenience the rest of the class by having them stand awkwardly around him in the foreground?

They made them do a second photo, even though there's nothing wrong with this one, and this is what they ended up with:

How shitty is that? That was posted in The Province, by the way. That was considered, "news." Meanwhile, one of the largest cities in Canada and most of the prairies are flooding.

I'm beginning to think that the expectation is that people literally accept any shit anyone give them. No one is that understanding. No one. Not even religious leaders, or world leaders. Not even Oprah or Jesus, most likely. This generation is expected to be the most accommodating, least racist generation that ever lived in the history of ever. Isn't that a little bit too much pressure? Can't anyone wig out and call some a Jebo? I don't even know what that is, but it sounds racist, so it must be. No one is allowed to hate, for any reason, even though it's a human emotion, and thus isn't grounded in logic or reason. No one is allowed to slip up, or not consider every variable. Soon, we're going to have to accept Bronies for what they are. Bronies, by the way, are the grown men obsessed with My Little Ponies. No one can even tell if they're joking, or not, or if they're genuinely disturbed. They're going to come up to you and say they're legally married to a fucking plastic pony doll, and you'll have to accept it, because that's where society has gone.

Subtle Shift

Nerds are in and jocks are out. How did that happen? One might point to prime-time TV with shows like Community and The Big Bang Theory, or they might point to Hollywood and the steady stream of comic book movies it produces. Or, they might point to the internet itself and all the advanced and readily available technological devices we use the internet on, which were created by nerds and now govern our daily lives. Nerds are the backbone of our Global Village. Video gaming has become a sport in and of itself. Jocks, meanwhile, are murdering people.

Athleticism and athletic competition was always supposed to be about what the human spirit could accomplish. With two hands, practice and sheer willpower, a man could become a living demigod on the field of play. Sports were supposed to be a metaphor for Man itself. If that is so, than man is an unrepentant, drug addicted, dog-drowning, wife-cheating/murdering psychopath who will stop at nothing to win the most meaningless challenge because winning equals money. Jocks have become the worst people alive. Up until the late 90’s people worshipped athletes like Wayne Gretsky and Michael Jordan like Gods. Today, Kobe Bryant has the shadow of a rape accusations over his head. Tiger Woods cheated on his wife and mother to his children at every opportunity. O.J. Simpson escaped a murder conviction to wind up in jail when he tried to steal back his former property he had to sell off at gunpoint from a legitimate collector. Lance Armstrong admitted to having doped after winning seven Tour De Frances. Michael Vicks abuses dogs for some reason. Pete Rose is a gambler/fgame fixer. Now, finally, Oscar Pistorius, a legless Olympic runner who should have been the feel-good comeback-from-adversity story of the century, shot his wife.

There are no triumphs in sports anymore, only cashed paycheques. There’s always been scandals with jocks, but the worst of it use to be boozing, game-fixing, and whore-mongering, which is the basis of any scandal. Today, there’s articles about how the entire football league (European) is controlled by organized crime, and any given game could be fixed.

Nerds, as the alternative to jocks, are flying under the radar as they always have. They’re manning the internet, for God’s sake. Everyone loves the internet because of it’s free access to Game of Thrones and Adelle mp3s. The very image of nerds is changing. Look at this fucker:

He’s got a star mohawk. He’s Starhawk. He’s putting robots on Mars. What’s Michael Vick’s doing? He’s drowning dogs in buckets of water. Starhawk wouldn’t do that. He’s too busy with his Raid party.

Nerds are more prevalent and accepted, and hence: less nerdy. Every loss by jocks is a gain for nerds. Unless Spacejam becomes a reality, jocks aren’t likely going to be making and headway anytime soon.

Sleight of Hand of God

Today, Asteroid 2012 DA14, measuring 45m wide safely passed Earth, traveling between the geosynchronous weather and communications satellites. While astronomers were watching this, a meteorite hit the skies over Russia, causing a shockwave that injured hundreds and caused widespread panic.

Dafuq? Seriously, with this many telescopes aimed at the skies on this particular day, why didn’t anyone notice beforehand? Strangely too, people were comparing 2012 DA14 to an asteroid that flattened thousands of square miles of forest in Siberia back in 1908.

Russians thought the resulting explosion across their sky was WWIII breaking out. Indeed, it could very well have sparked a new war. It’s long been rumoured in Russia that there’s a secret protocol known as, “Dead Hand,” a supposed autonomous system buried in a bunker deep beneath the Earth that will launch an all-out nuclear assault against the United States in the event of a nuclear holocaust on Russian soil. It’s said it measures for earthquakes emanating at the surface. A meteor strike could very well set off it’s sensors. Trouble is, no one knows if it exists. All anyone really has to go by is a mysterious claxon-alarm being broadcast on a localized radio signal, and old stories from the Cold War. Russia has never denied Dead Hand, and why would they? It’s better that they let the American think they have a failsafe device. So it’s either real, or it’s not. If it’s real, nobody really knows if it’s still functioning, or what will set it off. Take the recent nuclear test by North Korea. Would a certain level of radioactivity in the atmosphere set it off? What’s it even connected to, and are those missiles still functioning and aimed at enemy targets?

Personally, I assumed the meteor and 2012 DA14 were one and the same. It seemed too coincidental to be anything different, but the asteroid was viewed as having passed Earth by.

I’m George W. Bush and I Approved this Nude Self-Portrait

So someone hacked into George W. Bush’s e-mail account and instead of finding incriminating intel on 9/11 and the War on Terror, the hacker instead found that Dubya has gotten into painting. That’s like breaking into Fort Knox and finding donuts.

This painting in particular is telling. For one, it reminds me of this:

That’s mainly because Marge captured the image of Mr.Burns exiting the shower. Dubya chooses himself as his own subject, and it’s from an interesting angle. The perspective is somewhat behind his left shoulder him in the shower, with the focus instead being on his own facial reflection in the shaving mirror, to which he himself is gazing. It’s like he showing himself literally at his most vulnerable, while also showing that he is still vigilant. He is aware of you, the viewer, and unconcerned, even expecting. Imagine yourself, the viewer, as the assassin, or perhaps the lover. This is a powerful man, even in his years of leisure. He has lived through America’s darkest days as it’s sworn defender. He has anticipated an attack on his own person, and how could he not? He’s use to the braying catcalls of the media, the liberals, and the protestors. He’s a warrior, but his war has passed, and has been won, perhaps, by a rival successor. Once you reach a certain pinnacle, you expect consequences, but the hammer never falls. Still, after years, there’s that anticipation. To someone, you’re their Bin Laden. They would seek to catch you unaware. Notice how he’s in the shower, but standing aside from the water? This is a moment of literal reflection. Also not the almost childish squaring of the tiles of the shower, yet the faucets and mirror are represented adequately in their circular forms. There’s a stark, brilliant contrast there. His back looks both aged and lithe, muscular at the same time. Notice the work on his hair as well. He’s painted his scalp first, then added hair, so you can see where his hair is thinning. The man has skills.

This is actually a good painting, and he was probably never going to show this to anybody but his closest family and friends. In a sense, the hacker was helping him.

That this was the most “incriminating” thing to have been found is his e-mails is telling of the man as well. It shows a subdued lifestyle where he’s willing to challenge himself to try new things. It shows he’s willing to try things he may not be comfortable with, and explore the man he is.

Leftover Pennies

My mother taught me this simple rhyme: “Find a penny, pick it up/and all that day you’ll have good luck.” I’ll assume that this was true back when a penny was considered a legitimate and enduring currency. Now, the penny has been retired, and I wonder, “What will they do with all the pennies?” Literally, billions of pennies, once considered hard currency. Do they keep them in a vault? Do they recycle them? Who the hell is counting all these pennies?
As you know, it’s virtually impossible to get rid of pennies. They’re in your couch cushions, they’re under your fridge, they’re in the carpet at the back of the closet. They’re the roaches of currency. I find it’s almost impossible to go a whole day without spotting a lone penny on the sidewalk or a parking lot. It’s not even worth it to pick it up, really, even though I’m half-Scottish.
That’s what I think this whole thing is about, really. I think there’s a vault somewhere, and it’s filled to the brim with pennies. And every morning, Jim Flaherty gets on his one-piece striped swimsuit and dives into it like he’s Scrooge McDuck.

Pictured: Fiscal responsibility.
True story: I swallowed a penny once, mistaking it for candy. My dad still has it. It’s not a pretty penny.
How could you even tell how many pennies there are? Wikipedia says there’s 35 billion pennies, and they’re all being melted down. Perhaps, to make this American penny:

Pictured: The smallest amount of money billionaire Bruce Wayne can think of.
Sadly, one day my grandchildren will be born into a world without pennies. They’ll look at a penny the way they would look at a Spanish dubloon, if a Spanish dubloon was worthless.
What will happen to the piggy-banks of the future without pennies? What will happen to that satisfying clink-clink when you shake them, without all those pennies bulking it up? My parents still play cards for pennies with their friends, and now they think they’ll have to change to nickles, which are next on the chopping block.
Personally, I use debit for everything. I’m amazed if I open my wallet and find paper money in there. I even phased out my wallet in favour of a band called TGHT I helped kickstart.
Meanwhile, other people have so little respect for the penny they’re using it for decoration, like these people:

The sad thing is, this isn’t even close to the most expensive tile you can get.
What should you do with your pennies? Personally, I'd like to drill a hole in one and wear it on a necklace for good luck, like they do with Japanese Yen.

On the Outs

It’s been a few weeks, but I only realized the Jodie Foster coming out speech at the Golden Globes could have had far-reaching historical impact… if it had been made, as she said, “since the stone age.” As you may remember, Jodie Foster, who’s apparently single and ready to mingle as long as you don’t have a dingle, was the object of obsession for John Hinckley Jr. (Sr. must be so proud), because of her role as an under-aged prostitute in Taxi Driver (technically there’s no legally acceptable “age” for a prostitute, but you know what I mean). Because of this, he shot at Actor/President Ronald Regan, who had nothing to do with Jodie Foster, or the movie Taxi Driver. If that makes sense to you, you’re John Hinckley Jr., and you’re in jail, reading this. How re you? Are you doing well? Are they treating you okay? I hope you’re getting the respect an attempted presidential assassin deserves in jail.

As an episode of American Dad pointed out, if Hinckley hadn’t tried to kill Reagan, Regan may have lost the election, turning the country into a Commie Paradise, bread lines and all. What if Jodie Foster had come out as full-blown gay back in the day? Would that have turned Hinckley off enough to stop him from his attempt? The entire course of human history could have been altered, unbeknownst to sexually-repressed and a little lonely Jodie Foster.

I read members of GLAAD were simultaneously applauding Jodie for coming out (kind-of), and snubbing her for not doing it earlier. Imagine what an openly lesbian actress in the early 80’s could have done for the cause? The Pride Parades could be celebrating their 30th anniversaries and…. I don’t know what else.

If anything, Jodie’s possibly America’s greatest hero for NOT coming out of the closet earlier, because of one crazy guy and a gun.

Is Lance Armstrong a Dick?

Yes, yes he is. (Why are double positives okay, but not double negatives? Fucking optimists, that’s why.)

Or is he?

Yes, he’s a dick.

Think about it: Lance Armstrong basically nullified the results of seven Tour De Frances in which hundreds of competitors stretched their endurance to the limit after countless hours of training, only to be defeated by a guy with one nut and a butt-load (literally) of steroids. As a competitor, you went through one of the greatest trials of your life, only to have your hopes and dreams dashed by a cheater who went on to make millions in endorsements while you languished in obscurity. One man represented everything you ever aspired to, and he got there by rigging the game. You could say Lance Armstrong ruined his life and his legacy, but after his interview with Oprah was over, he probably took a limo back to his five star hotel and drowned his sorrows in top shelf booze before calling his wife back at his mansion and crying. There’s no way to feel sorry for him, or what he did, or what he is. He had all the talent and ambition you’d attribute to someone with the, “right stuff,” and he decided that as great as he was, he wasn’t good enough. So he cheated. That’s like throwing tacks behind you for other people to ride over when you’re already in first place.

If you boil down his confession, you’ll find the only reason he did it was because he wanted to be a better role model for his children. His children who live with him in his mansion, and want for nothing. They’re probably like Will Smith’s kids. What lesson can they factually take away from their dad eating a tiny slice of humble pie after a caviar buffet? That cheaters never win? Cheaters always win. They cheated. That’s the real secret to success. You want to get ahead in life? Cheat. Everyone’s trying to be the best, in their own way. No one is purposefully trying to come in last. Every man, woman and child on the planet is inching their way closer to their own goals in life, and they’re better than you. Tanya Harding them, then Barry Bonds yourself.

Look at every major athlete, multi-billionaire, First World nation, or international conglomerate. They all had some good ideas, they worked hard, and they had the talent to get where they are. They were also ruthless cheaters. The skirted every rule, every law, and basic human decency. If there was a way to grind babies into cocaine and money, they’d do it. You? You’re not them. You’re not a psycho/sociopath, dear reader.

Pete Rose has a new reality show about how awesome his life is, even after the betting scam that cost him his good graces. He’s fucking the shit out of his Penthouse playmate wife thanks to Cialis, and he wants you to know he’s better than you. Why? Because he cheated and you didn’t.

Like it or not, we all have are own moral fibres. Religion might have given them to you, or else the beatings. They’re what makes us the Obi-Wans to the Anakin Skywalkers of the world. We know right from wrong, even if we don’t admit it.

What did Lance Armstrong do? He basically destroyed an entire sport and a half-billion dollar charity for cancer victims because he thought he could stick a needle in his ass on the sly and no one would get suspicious about all his winning. Nothing you do with your daily screw-ups will really match that. Even Tiger Woods fucking anything that doesn’t already have a penis attached to it isn’t that bad.

How bad did he fuck up? He Oprah fucked up.

Oprah.

Oprah is the woman you have to apologize to when you fucked up so bad even your sacred ancestors are ashamed of you. Remember the guy who wrote a “Million Little Pieces,” (which was actually a pretty good book). His only crime was claiming it was a real auto-biography. Lance Armstrong got off easy compared to that guy, and all that guy did was write an inspirational book that wasn’t 100% non-fiction. He fabricated a romance and a couple key characters and left a work that still had an impact and lasting impression, and he not only had to apologize to Oprah, but he had to apologize to a Jewish author who wrote a book about the Holocaust. Imagine Oprah calling you out for being a douche on national TV, and then she brings in a Holocaust survivor to make you feel worse.

All Lance had to do was cry on TV for Oprah, and it was like he was the victim. Crying makes everything you do okay, because you’re a dude, and dudes don’t cry.

Lance isn’t even in any real legal trouble for all the shit he got into. He didn’t have to come out and even say he did what he did. He could have gone on Oprah, pulled down his pants and flashed his toned ass before injecting it with more Steroids, and not gotten into any more trouble, because Steroids are the consequence-free drug. If it was weed, he’d have a better chance of landing in prison, and two States are trying to legalize it. They say that records and legacy are wiped out by Steroid use, but this isn’t the magical land of Narnia. Sports Historians still have all the facts, and they still have to learn everything about you and your career to understand the sport at large. There might be a nameplate missing at the Hall of Fame, but everyone with a book or internet access for hundreds of years can know about you and your bullshit legacy. There’s still videos of you crashing though yellow tape and those are going to be preserved for future generations. He still gets to be a headline, while all the people he competed against are the footnotes, if that much, In fact, he’s the most interesting thing that’s happened to the sport, and arguably ever will. He’s become inseparable and immortal. He’s herpes. Rich, douchey herpes. 

Trufs

Truth:

Hurricane Sandy proves a disturbing truth about the American political system. Millions are without power, airports across the nation are virtually shut down, billions are lost in business and billions more in damages, to say nothing about the potential loss of life, and the President’s main concern is keeping his job. That’s not a slam on Obama, that’s a statement about every sitting President in American history. Every politician’s job is to keep their job. When you’re President, that means shaking hands, standing in front of a podium, and spewing shit out of your mouth.

And people eat it up. Imagine if you had to re-interview for you job every four years, that you had to stand in front of people and answer the EXACT SAME questions they asked you four years ago. The, “What would you do?” and, “How are you going to…?” questions. You’re the fucking President. If you can’t decide after four years how a person is going to behave in office, and you need to ask them directly, you’re a fucking idiot. The media is wasting everyone’s time including yours by asking for words instead of letting actions speak for themselves. If any President ever told his opponent to fuck off because he was busy running the free world, he’d be voted out of office.

Seriously, Obama should bitch-slap Romney. Imagine the President of France demanding the POTUS debate him three times a week. He’d get bitch- slapped, then Bill Clinton would have sex with his wife, if he hasn’t already.

That a President has any time to spend on campaigning is pretty indicative that the Presidency is a sweet do-nothing job.

Ghost F**kers

Ke$ha claims she’s had sex with a ghost. Likely, the ghost has now contracted Chlamydia.

Stranger still, this is a common phenomenon, and answers one of the most obvious questions about ghosts, namely: if you could haunt the location of your choice, why do ghost end up haunting abandoned, ramshackle houses like spectral crackheads? Think about it: if you could be trapped somewhere, wouldn’t you rather haunt the group shower of the Dallas Cheerleaders than someplace that smells like cat pee and sadness?

Better still, if you could have consequence-free sex with anyone, why wouldn’t you, even if you now have a ghost penis? Why you would chose Ke$ha, I don’t know. Maybe you’re on your way up to Heaven and want one last chance to know what eternal suffering might feel like. Or maybe the body literally disintegrated from disease and shame, leaving only the ghost behind?

iPhony

Samsung recently lost billions in its legal battle with Apple over copyright infringement, but did you know Apple has been ripping off someone else for years? That someone is Star Trek.

Apple execs have admitted that the idea for iTunes came from Star Trek: The Next Generation, where the Enterprise’s computer has a full catalogue of every song ever made available upon request. It goes deeper than that.

While visiting the Star Trek exhibit at the PNE in Vancouver, I saw an old prop labelled, “PADD.” It was essentially an iPad, but more 90’s-futuristic. It was exactly the same size, shape, and thickness of an iPad, but all black with red lettering. There were other similar props gathered around it, but that one stood out the most to me because of the name on it. The only thing standing between that prop and billions of consumer dollars was its complete lack of functionality. On the show, however, it was shown as having touch-screen controls and video display.

If you watch TNG, you’d see how everything was operated by touch screen video display, which were prone to exploding. Oddly, when the prequel series Enterprise came out, they lost that technology, although the show is set in the future and it was available when the show was produced. The only other input device on the Enterprise was operated by voice command, which is copied by the latest technology from Apple, Siri. Siri and the ship’s computer both work exactly the same way, except the Enterprise would respond properly.

Baby Beluga

Quite by accident, I may have been one of the few people to see Kavna alive at the Vancouver Aquarium. Kavna was the whale from the song, “Baby Beluga,” by Raffi, a famous children’s singer.

The family and I had gone to the Aquarium on B.C. Day along with a few other thousand people, and we went to go and see the whale show at around 3:30 p.m.. The show was cancelled, however, and the area around the upper viewing area was cordoned and guarded by two female staff members who politely answered questions from my mother-in-law. With nothing else to do and the show cancelled, we hung around the area eating ice cream. Eventually I noticed a group of people coming out of the restricted area, where I first noticed a third whale, Kavna, was being kept in a separate tank. There were maybe a dozen people in total, but I assumed they were a part of some kind of a “swim with the whales” program. It was fairly crowded, and there hadn’t been any mention that the whale was sick up until that point. Looking back, they seemed distressed. One man came out and sat in the bleachers and emptied water out of his boots. Another was shivering in a towel while being held steady by a pair of workers. Then the two remaining belugas came up to the tank and curiously poked their noses out of the water to look and hung around the area for a while. Previously, they’d been swimming around as whales do. They had been on their backs quite a bit swimming upside down, getting exercise, with no one directing them.

The whale had died around the same time we were there, give or take a half hour.

The beluga herself was 46-50 years old, which is more than twenty years the average life expectancy of a beluga in the wild. The same beluga had been there at the Aquarium my entire life, and I’d seen her every second year or so, perhaps fifteen times in total.

We left at around 5 p.m., oblivious that one of the aquarium’s oldest and inarguably most famous residents had died while we were there. One would imagine news like that would send a shockwave through the entire staff, but it was impossible to tell from any of their expressions or demeanour that they knew anything was amiss. I can’t even think of a parallel in the human world where something like that could happen and people not know, or let on that they knew.

Skyrim in Real Life

In the past week, there’s been two high-profile and rather unusual thefts in the Fraser Valley. One was the theft of aproximately 8,000lbs of honey and a half-million bees from a beekeeper. The other was the theft of 5,200 bottles of wine from Blackwood Lane winery in Langley, not thirty minutes away from the beekeeper’s. Obviously, this scale of larceny is the work of sophisticated criminals with access to heavy machinery, an inside knowledge of the respective industries, and a long-term plan for profit.

It also exactly parallels the crime perpetrated in Skyrim, making the suspected ringleader Maven Blackbriar.

Pictured: The face of evil.

I can’t possibly be the only one who’s noticed this, unless I’m Batman. In the game, Skyrim, there’s a quest chain for the Thieves Guild where you have to do Maven Blackbriar’s dirty work. As a quest giver, she has you sabotage a honey farm and they a rival meadery, so her own line of Blackbriar Mead can flourish. This involves breaking into a honey farm and stealing certain items while burn bee hives, while ensuring that the farm can remain productive. Then you have to break into a meadery and poison the spirits therein, and then in the ensuing chaos take over the entire operation and amalgamate it with Blackbriar’s.

Stranger still, in the weeks before the honey farm robbery, I had the exact same idea for a crime. That’s not to say I was going to be the one perpetrating it, but at work (I work at a hardware store that will remain nameless), several people were complaining about a millionaire beekeeper who kept coming in and bothering everyone with his extremely frugal and over-demanding ways. My one co-worker told me he had him sift through over a hundred pieces of plywood, each weighing well over sixty pounds or more, to find him fifteen sheets worthy of his purchase. Another told me that she’d dealt with him before at a Habitat for Humanity store, where items were already offered at rock-bottom clearance prices, but he still demanded an unreasonable amount of attention and unwarranted discounts. That made me think to myself: why would a man who flaunts his riches make so many enemies, and be as cheap as Mr.Crabs from Spongebob Squarepants at the same time? Especially when he’s in a business that’s so easily destroyed. I’ve read all about the phenomenon known as colony collapse affecting beekeepers the world over. The smallest infestation can wipe out a man’s livelihood, but why would one resort to that when there’s such lucrative profit to be made in simply stealing the bees for one’s self? With colony collapse, the price of honey is rising. People are even willing to pay top dollar for what’s essentially honey-flavoured corn syrup out of China by way of Indonesia, and articles on Cracked.com have told me how easy it is to disguise psuedo-honey as the real thing. Abbotsford borders Chilliwack, which boast some of the best corn in all of Canada, if not the world.

Stealing bees is an easy thing, if you’ve ever seen the movie, “Bees.” A little smoke and they’re out like a light. After that, you can do what you want with them.

I’d be impressed if these two crimes were by the same criminal, because to me they’d be operating at Batman villain levels. Anyone can steal cold, hard cash. Stealing tonnes of honey and wine is the work of someone who either intends to black market their own product, or else keep it for their own enjoyment. I’m imagining swimming pools filled with honey and booze, and the ensuing rap video they create.

Gunner

This week’s shooting tragedy that took place in a crowded midnight screening of, “The Dark Knight Rises,” had nothing to do with the movie, Chris Nolan’s trilogy, or Batman in general, but it’d be hard to tell that by listening to the media. Every news story about the movie makes certain you know just what movie was playing, because to them that’s the most important ingredient in the case. The shooter likely chose the time and location because he knew it’d be as crowded as possible. He knew people wouldn’t be able to escape with him blocking the exit and it’d be a simple matter for him to make a breakaway. He’d already planned it out by placing his gear outside the exit where he could quickly don it and step back inside. The fact that the movie itself contained gunfire would add to the confusion, making it ideal.

Again, it had nothing to do with Batman. Even when he told police, “I’m the Joker,” it still had nothing to do with Batman. He’d dyed his hair a ridiculous orange colour. If he’d been trying to emulate the fictional character of the Joker, he obviously would have dyed it green. People were trying to find a parallel between what he did and something the Joker might have done during his past eighty years or so in comics. They won’t find any, because his plan wasn’t based on a comic book. It was based on opportunity.

People are also calling for tighter gun control. The man already had access to several kinds of explosives, as his booby-trapped house obviously proves. He could have brought a bomb with him, left it on his chair, and left the theatre as it exploded. The result would have been the same, or worse. Madmen pick guns either because of the convenience, the allure, or the thrill of them. One of the women in the audience had escaped a shooting in Toronto several weeks earlier. Canada has tighter gun control laws than their American counterparts, but nearly half as many people have died, or were injured in a shooting last week in Toronto. Nothing but an unenforceable and total ban on guns would stop gun violence, although it’s ridiculous that one person could stockpile such an enormous arsenal and munitions supplies without raising any red flags.

Why Does This Keep Happening?

 

Why do C-List celebrities keep getting arrested for masturbating in porn theatres? Why does no one hear about regular people being arrested for masturbating in porn theatres? They’re porn theatres, not the opera. Are there police on stakeout in every theatre? Who gets assigned that job? Is there a second officer undercover in the theatre to keep tabs on the first officer to make sure he’s not masturbating? Who gets paid to clean the seats after? Does that job have a high turnover/suicide rate? What do they tell people their job is? What are they paid?

Most importantly, why are there still porn theatres? Everyone has the internet. You can look at porn on the internet for free, in the privacy of your own room. You could technically look at porn in a regular theatre on your wireless device, thus making it a porno theatre.

Why do people go to porn theatres if you can’t even masturbate, or be arrested if you do? Where’s the fun in that? Are you expected to simply rub your chin and ponder the underlying themes of the plot?

Is there a concession in a porn theatre? Do all the popcorn buckets come with a hole in the bottom?

The Man With the Golden Gun

Somewhere out there in this big blue world people are demanding war crimes charges be laid against the Libyan forces who killed Gaddafi. That’s fucked up. That’s like saying someone who had their house robbed should be charged with theft for taking back their stuff. Gaddafi got pwned in the most awesome way possible. I don’t think anyone could be more satisfied with how that went. There we people shouting, “We need him alive!” as he was getting kicked down the street. They weren’t listened to. No one needs a long, drawn out trial. Look at Sadam. Everyone knew he was guilty as shit, so why put on the show?

Besides, Gaddafi had a golden gun on him when he was caught. That’s a rare item drop that sells for top dollar at auction. It’s one of the few times life imitates WoW.

Seriously, that’s literally something a James Bond villain would have on him. You got to ask yourself, “WWJBD?” He’d kill that motherfucker.

People, mostly liberal hippies, had the same negative reaction when Osama was killed. There were tweets from that huffy Huffington Post chick about how we shouldn’t be celebrating the death of a human being. How far up your own ass do you have to be to not realize that something bad happening to someone bad is a good thing?

I saw an episode of Family Guy the other day where Peter annex Joe’s pool and creates the nation of Petoria, and invites all the world’s despots over. They showed Saddam and Gaddafi on screen at the same time.

Eerie, isn’t it?

Teh Gamez

I just saw this article, as linked through kotaku.com about game journalism:

http://www.industrygamers.com/news/xbox-360-power-not-yet-tapped-out-says-gears-designer/

It made me think about the old gaming magazines I use to read, and how they’re now basically extinct. A game magazine is essentially 100% ads, as even the articles are ads in and of themselves. The only magazines with any exclusives were the “official” magazines, like PSM, which people would frequently only buy because of the demo disc included with the mag. With there being three main competing gaming system, and two subsets of gaming handhelds at any time over the past couple of decades, it’s unlikely that any reader would prefer a “blanket” approach that covers games cross-system. If you only have a Playstation, why would you care what’s on Xbox, aside from morbid curiosity? That’s why each system had at least one main magazine devoted to it, and it was usually wholly endorsed by the company that produces those games. Any reviews inside the magazine were therefore suspect. Most trended towards how awesome the game in question was, and how you should buy it, with money. This sort of thing happens every day, in nearly every magazine. Fashion magazines aren’t going to crap all over fashion. Incidentally: print is dead.

In the modern age of video game reviews, the review is expected to be out long before the game. If you don’t have the exclusive from the latest convention or behind-the-scenes press-release for a game that won’t be released in months, if not years, then you’re left in the dust. If you’re an independent writer, and don’t have access to these scoops, there’s really no point in even trying. A single screenshot of an unreleased game can attract more attention than a 10,000 word essay on the game itself, once it’s been on the shelf. To be truly successful, you’d have to have access to every beta out there, and have played through every round. In the end, that wouldn’t even matter, because there’s only a handful of games every year out of hundreds that anyone in the world really cares about. Same with movies: no one really cares about the independent pic that got rave reviews at Sundance: they want the next Michael Bay blockbuster. These are from companies that have their own corps of PR people, who are doing your work for you. All you can really do is analyze it and regurgitate what they feed you.

Why? Because billions of dollars are on the line. Even though scoops are the lifeblood of the game journalist’s trade, if they were to publish anything without the prior consent of these companies, they’d find themselves on the wrong end of a lawsuit. To get these scoops, they have to agree to terms and conditions both spoken, written, and eluded at. You can’t look at a major project and tell people it’s nothing but another piece-of-shit FPS trying to compete with COD, because you’ll be blacklisted or worse.

The article above talks a lot about a code of conduct, which mainly entails not giving bad press to bad games. Reviews for games are mainly pointless. You can’t rate them on a scale. A person can play a .99 cent game on their iPhone for 24 hours, but it doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a “good” game, if you’re using the old scale of rating that includes graphics, controls, playability, etc.. Add those up and what’s really a five star game becomes a one star bomb. It’s like judging the work of Shakespeare on his penmanship, or Michael Bay’s “talent” for his use of explosives. Angry Birds is an absolute phenomenon right now. Is it a masterpiece? No. Is it terrible? No. Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum, there’s games on consoles trying to be fluid works of art with their graphics. They’re also terrible, terrible games. Final Fantasy XIII comes to mind. Does it look good? Yes. Does it play well? No. How do you rate it? And likewise, how are you not suppose to shit on it? Look at how long Duke Nukem Forever took to come out, and then look at how disappointing that game was. Is a game reviewer not allowed to crap on that? I say you should be able to smell his tears through the words.

I’ve gravitated to game sites like kotaku.com and penny-arcade.com, which aren’t necessarily review sites, but someone they’ve given me more insight into games on the market than any other source. They do it without rating the game, either. The just slap up some impressions on press-releases, and that’s it. Done. Money’s already in the bank.

That’s why to me, game journalism is a dead form of commercial art. There’s no want or need for it. I occasionally will see a review piece in the provincial paper, and it’s written about entirely random games no one could care about. I’m left with no desire to explore the game further. Meanwhile, a movie review on the next page may make me want to see a movie. How does that work? Why is one form of journalism more engaging than the other, when the two mediums are so closely related? It’s because games are meant to be experienced. You can either write a review, or write a guide with tips’n’tricks.

Mo’ of That

I’ve been reading about the rebel uprising in Libya in the Province. A few days ago, they ran a half-page article with pictures about rebels taking over one of Momar’s summer homes. It made certain to cite that rebels had found empty bottles of champagne and vodka at the home, when alcohol is prohibited, and how it was a sign of Momar’s inherent hypocrisy. On the other page, in a smaller article, it talked about how Momar allegedly ordered the executions of over 50,000 people, and they were finding warehouses full of bodies.

…

The paper really made it sound as if people were really more outraged by his drinking than the war-crimes against his own people. It was like back in high school where they taught me how Hitler banned smoking in Germany, and also killed 6 million Jews. It’s like that way with every famous dictator. Stalin kept a mistress and also threw millions of Russians into gulags. Mussolini was sexist, and also conspired with the Nazis.

Why do people feel the need to tag on extra shit to someone’s list of crimes? The weird thing is, it’s as easy to remember some of these small details as the big, important stuff. Sometimes easier. Look at Italian Prime Minister Berlusconi. We know he digs his whores, and he like them young, and he doesn’t mind paying for it. But what about all the other corruption, etc? I’m not saying he’s as bad as Gaddafi, I’m just saying he’s up to some shit, and his own relatively minor, but sexy scandal is overshadowing his douchebaggery. Sometimes I wonder if in a hundred years Hitler will be remembered for the Holocaust and WWII, or just for the fact he had one nut.