No, I’m not talking about an exotic intestinal disorder here, but I did have to read this Wall Street Journal Editorial story a couple of times in disbelief.
"SALZBURG, Austria--The holiday season has arrived in Salzburg with its quaint Christmas markets, cheery brass ensembles, steaming mugs of Gluhwein, and, of course, the perennial Krampus debate, which, when stripped of cultural nuance, can be summarized as follows: Should inebriated young men in oversized gorilla suits, with grotesquely carved, horned visages the size of a buffalo head and clanging cowbells strapped to their midrift, be allowed to assault women in public with impunity, generally to the merriment of crowds of onlookers, except, of course, for those who are shrieking or fleeing in terror?"
"The Krampus is to Salzburg what the bull is to Pamplona, an oversized beast that sends an adrenaline rush of terror through the cobblestone streets of the old town, all in the name of cultural heritage. For a full week during the start of the holiday season, scores of Krampuses stalk the cobbled ways of Salzburg and its surrounding villages. The Krampus is a hybrid-beast of pagan origins that has been affixed to the Christmas season and looks like he stepped out of the pages of Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are." Only instead of inviting young boys for midnight monster romps, they stalk young women, fondling them, throwing them over their shoulders and whipping them with wooden switches until their shins and thighs are black and blue. They prowl the streets, wander onto public buses, and storm downtown restaurants where, after assaulting female patrons, they are treated to free schnapps to fuel their further fury. The anonymity provided by the Krampus mask combined with increasing amounts of alcohol consumption is not only feeding the violence but also a debate about this bizarre pagan holdover from a less civilized era."
Can you believe that something like this is still going on in 2004? Read the entire story and let me know if I’m missing something here. I’m not suggesting that a new law be passed or that we begin military intervention, but where the heck are Martha Burke, Jane Fonda, the National Organization of Women, and the rest of the "Feminazis" when you really need them?
Instead of wasting our time busting the chops of the Augusta National Golf Club and holding endless meetings on perceived woman’s inequalities like “glass ceilings,” I say that Mrs. Burke and her followers should immediately charter a Delta Airlines flight to Frankfort for a session of getting their butts pinched and their ankles switched by a sweaty Austrian in a horned gorilla suit.
Who knows, she might enjoy the cultural experience.
Come to think of it, maybe this is really just a TSA security screener training exercise designed to teach new recruits how to pat down women travelers at airport checkpoints.
Well, it could be…
Friday, December 24, 2004
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Is This What Things Are Coming To?
"NEW YORK - "Access Hollywood" has named its "Top Ten Stars of 2004," with Britney Spears (news) in the No. 1 spot. The rankings are based on the number of stories the syndicated entertainment television show aired on each star. Spears — who was married twice, canceled a summer tour because of a knee injury and released a greatest hits album — topped the list with 119 stories.
Beyonce is in the No. 2 spot, with 102 stories, followed by Donald Trump, 94 stories; Michael Jackson (news), 84 stories; Tom Cruise (news), 72 stories; Jessica Simpson (news), 69 stories; Paris Hilton, 63 stories; Nicole Kidman, 62 stories; Jennifer Lopez (news), 54 stories; and Whitney Houston, 52 stories."
Ok, ok, ok. Picture me yelling out the words as I write these next few paragraphs. I’m going to write my own “Access St. Simons” description of “Access Hollywood’s” Top Ten Stars of 2004…
Britney Spears—Number 1 Pop Music Trash Slut and the primary contributor to the delinquency of 14 year old girls everywhere.
Beyonce—I don’t know who the hell this (he or she?) is and don’t care to waste a Google search looking.
Donald Trump—Ego Maniac Numero Uno and poster boy for the worst big hair comb-over on prime time TV. If I had his money, you’d need radar, a devining rod, an x-ray machine, and possibly ESP in order to attempt to locate me on my private island and get a picture to publish...this fool runs toward the TV cameras.
Michael Jackson—Living proof that enough cash can destroy your body and cover up almost any perversion 99% of the time. (I think that he is about to visit with the 1% negative odds in 2005)
Tom Cruise—Who cares, since I don’t ogle men (ditto for Jeff Gordon who didn’t make the list.)
Jessica Simpson—Any relation to Bart Simpson? Means about as much to me...
Paris Hilton—Britney should be so proud of her mindless bimbo protégé.
Nicole Kidman—Oh Mr. Cruise, control your woman…
Jennifer Lopez—Another so called “pretty” face attached to a set of surgically altered mammary glands that in my mind has a great deal of trouble justifying the oxygen she consumes. If I hear some gushing story about “J Low” one more time I’m gonna barf.
Whitney Houston—Living proof of the steep cost of drug abuse. Yet another parents’ nightmare “role model” for young girls everywhere.
And my own number eleven candidate:
Martha Stewart—A textbook case of a pompus, arrogant, self-aggrandizing bitch that broke the law, went to jail, and will make a tidy profit in the process.
Would someone please tell me why the hell any of these largely dysfunctional, mindless individuals are worthy of the amount of news coverage, public hype, and adulation that they get to begin with?
Is it because they make large amounts of money?
Or is it because a large percentage of our population is suffering from a terminal case of stupidity?
Since I can't earn one red cent watching the antics of these denizens of celebrity pop culture, I believe I’ll just stay out here in my own little piece of paradise and enjoy keeping my name out of the newspaper and off of the TV screen.
How about you?
Beyonce is in the No. 2 spot, with 102 stories, followed by Donald Trump, 94 stories; Michael Jackson (news), 84 stories; Tom Cruise (news), 72 stories; Jessica Simpson (news), 69 stories; Paris Hilton, 63 stories; Nicole Kidman, 62 stories; Jennifer Lopez (news), 54 stories; and Whitney Houston, 52 stories."
Ok, ok, ok. Picture me yelling out the words as I write these next few paragraphs. I’m going to write my own “Access St. Simons” description of “Access Hollywood’s” Top Ten Stars of 2004…
Britney Spears—Number 1 Pop Music Trash Slut and the primary contributor to the delinquency of 14 year old girls everywhere.
Beyonce—I don’t know who the hell this (he or she?) is and don’t care to waste a Google search looking.
Donald Trump—Ego Maniac Numero Uno and poster boy for the worst big hair comb-over on prime time TV. If I had his money, you’d need radar, a devining rod, an x-ray machine, and possibly ESP in order to attempt to locate me on my private island and get a picture to publish...this fool runs toward the TV cameras.
Michael Jackson—Living proof that enough cash can destroy your body and cover up almost any perversion 99% of the time. (I think that he is about to visit with the 1% negative odds in 2005)
Tom Cruise—Who cares, since I don’t ogle men (ditto for Jeff Gordon who didn’t make the list.)
Jessica Simpson—Any relation to Bart Simpson? Means about as much to me...
Paris Hilton—Britney should be so proud of her mindless bimbo protégé.
Nicole Kidman—Oh Mr. Cruise, control your woman…
Jennifer Lopez—Another so called “pretty” face attached to a set of surgically altered mammary glands that in my mind has a great deal of trouble justifying the oxygen she consumes. If I hear some gushing story about “J Low” one more time I’m gonna barf.
Whitney Houston—Living proof of the steep cost of drug abuse. Yet another parents’ nightmare “role model” for young girls everywhere.
And my own number eleven candidate:
Martha Stewart—A textbook case of a pompus, arrogant, self-aggrandizing bitch that broke the law, went to jail, and will make a tidy profit in the process.
Would someone please tell me why the hell any of these largely dysfunctional, mindless individuals are worthy of the amount of news coverage, public hype, and adulation that they get to begin with?
Is it because they make large amounts of money?
Or is it because a large percentage of our population is suffering from a terminal case of stupidity?
Since I can't earn one red cent watching the antics of these denizens of celebrity pop culture, I believe I’ll just stay out here in my own little piece of paradise and enjoy keeping my name out of the newspaper and off of the TV screen.
How about you?
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
We're All Gonna Die of Something--Get Over It
I’m ready to get on a boat and sail to somewhere that doesn’t have a hysterical media and a 24 hour news cycle. I’m not quite sure where exactly that is, but I’ll write to let you know when I get there if there is room for a few more people like myself that don’t read People magazine and are not obsessed with pop culture and the latest reality TV series.
Seriously, since we have now been introduced to the baby stealing “womb raider” (as opposed to "tomb raider") murderer Lisa Montgomery, we can all stop wondering who will provide the replacement for the recently concluded courtroom drama of the Scott and Laci Peterson murder case. This one is even better because they already have the body and the baby survived and was found in the hands of the murderer. You couldn’t have placed an order on E-Bay and paid a million dollars for a better, more TV friendly story line.
The producers, writers, and reporters in the main stream media can all stop worrying about what their next soap opera story will be and can collectively get on with writing endless, pointless expositions on all of the mind numbing details of the unfolding drama. Gretta Van Sustren on FOX News is already sharpening her knives and twisting her crooked mouth in anticipation of the next two or three years of yapping she gets to do on the subject.
I, on the other hand, just think that I’ll ask my physician what a nice dose of Celebrex, Aleve, or Vioxx “can do for me” and sail off into the sunset of my life enjoying a low cholesterol, low blood pressure, and painless, self medicated, self-induced, pre-mature death.
Just last Sunday it was announced that they were stopping a study of the prescription Arthritis drug Celebrex because of an apparent increased risk of stroke and heart attack in the study participants. Ok, I might say, I’ll just take something well proven and available “over the counter” like Aleve instead. WRONG, YOU PALEFACED REDNECK!!!
On Monday they announced that the popular over the counter alternative, Aleve, was also increasing heart risks in the same study. So what the heck are we supposed to think and do in this situation? This bunch of egg head Doctors and government busybodies apparently are running in circles, chasing their tails and looking publicly like a bunch of idiots. The only ones that seem to be happy are the medical malpractice trial lawyers who are at this minute producing TV ads and writing internet Web sites to advertise their services.
Here is my take on all of this idiocy, ladies and gentlemen. WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE OF SOMETHING! If it weren’t for anti-coagulants like Heparin and Coumadin, I’d have lost both legs or died of a pulmonary embolism years ago. I have always said that I am going to live my life the way I want to and to hell with what everybody else and the media says. I’ve spent time overseas in the Philippines in the Navy during the Marcos regime and survived getting my head beat in in an Atlanta restaurant robbery. I’ve water skied, snow skied, sailed dozens of miles offshore out of sight of land in a boat by myself, flown an airplane, and scuba dived with a couple of hundred of sharks. I’ve done all of this and I’m still here to write about it.
I eat fried eggs for breakfast once a week, I cook with semi-sweet, unsalted butter every day, I eat pork, I eat beef, I eat sushi, I eat raw eggs in my Ceasar Salads, I drink wine, I drink beer, drink vodka, I pick my nose, and I fart silently in the corners of the Christmas store and walk away only to have the odorous emanations blamed on the next old blue haired lady that walks into the area behind me.
When my days are numbered and my time comes, I want it to be a closed casket funeral (actually I want to be cremated, my ashes cast into a concrete artificial reef, and dumped offshore in the ocean.) I want my body to be so worn out and aged and degenerated and abused that no one can possibly walk up and utter some inane sentiment like “He looks so good, I can’t believe he is gone to be with his maker.”
No sir, if someone like the undertaker sees my corpse I want them to say “MY GOOD GOD, HOW THE HELL DID HE EVER MAKE IT THIS FAR LOOKING LIKE THAT.” Use it up and burn it out is my motto. And if an aspirin or an Aleve or a Tylenol or God forbid—a Placebo—makes me think that things are a little better on Monday morning, so be it.. It is my decision to take one and I’m not suing anyone if my ticker quits ticking because, in the words of Jimmy Stewart: “It’s been a Wonderful Life.”
I hope yours is too…and by the way everybody--have a placebo on me!
Seriously, since we have now been introduced to the baby stealing “womb raider” (as opposed to "tomb raider") murderer Lisa Montgomery, we can all stop wondering who will provide the replacement for the recently concluded courtroom drama of the Scott and Laci Peterson murder case. This one is even better because they already have the body and the baby survived and was found in the hands of the murderer. You couldn’t have placed an order on E-Bay and paid a million dollars for a better, more TV friendly story line.
The producers, writers, and reporters in the main stream media can all stop worrying about what their next soap opera story will be and can collectively get on with writing endless, pointless expositions on all of the mind numbing details of the unfolding drama. Gretta Van Sustren on FOX News is already sharpening her knives and twisting her crooked mouth in anticipation of the next two or three years of yapping she gets to do on the subject.
I, on the other hand, just think that I’ll ask my physician what a nice dose of Celebrex, Aleve, or Vioxx “can do for me” and sail off into the sunset of my life enjoying a low cholesterol, low blood pressure, and painless, self medicated, self-induced, pre-mature death.
Just last Sunday it was announced that they were stopping a study of the prescription Arthritis drug Celebrex because of an apparent increased risk of stroke and heart attack in the study participants. Ok, I might say, I’ll just take something well proven and available “over the counter” like Aleve instead. WRONG, YOU PALEFACED REDNECK!!!
On Monday they announced that the popular over the counter alternative, Aleve, was also increasing heart risks in the same study. So what the heck are we supposed to think and do in this situation? This bunch of egg head Doctors and government busybodies apparently are running in circles, chasing their tails and looking publicly like a bunch of idiots. The only ones that seem to be happy are the medical malpractice trial lawyers who are at this minute producing TV ads and writing internet Web sites to advertise their services.
Here is my take on all of this idiocy, ladies and gentlemen. WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE OF SOMETHING! If it weren’t for anti-coagulants like Heparin and Coumadin, I’d have lost both legs or died of a pulmonary embolism years ago. I have always said that I am going to live my life the way I want to and to hell with what everybody else and the media says. I’ve spent time overseas in the Philippines in the Navy during the Marcos regime and survived getting my head beat in in an Atlanta restaurant robbery. I’ve water skied, snow skied, sailed dozens of miles offshore out of sight of land in a boat by myself, flown an airplane, and scuba dived with a couple of hundred of sharks. I’ve done all of this and I’m still here to write about it.
I eat fried eggs for breakfast once a week, I cook with semi-sweet, unsalted butter every day, I eat pork, I eat beef, I eat sushi, I eat raw eggs in my Ceasar Salads, I drink wine, I drink beer, drink vodka, I pick my nose, and I fart silently in the corners of the Christmas store and walk away only to have the odorous emanations blamed on the next old blue haired lady that walks into the area behind me.
When my days are numbered and my time comes, I want it to be a closed casket funeral (actually I want to be cremated, my ashes cast into a concrete artificial reef, and dumped offshore in the ocean.) I want my body to be so worn out and aged and degenerated and abused that no one can possibly walk up and utter some inane sentiment like “He looks so good, I can’t believe he is gone to be with his maker.”
No sir, if someone like the undertaker sees my corpse I want them to say “MY GOOD GOD, HOW THE HELL DID HE EVER MAKE IT THIS FAR LOOKING LIKE THAT.” Use it up and burn it out is my motto. And if an aspirin or an Aleve or a Tylenol or God forbid—a Placebo—makes me think that things are a little better on Monday morning, so be it.. It is my decision to take one and I’m not suing anyone if my ticker quits ticking because, in the words of Jimmy Stewart: “It’s been a Wonderful Life.”
I hope yours is too…and by the way everybody--have a placebo on me!
