All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy...

...so says the Onion in another example of pure brilliance: http://www.theonion.com/content/news/sasha_obama_keeps_seeing_creepy. One thing about the Bush twins, they're probably having a lot more fun these days. Also, it's probably real reasonable to assume they have a healthy supply of Centenario and Contreau on hand at their respective abodes. You know, just in case the grandparents want to show up for a light cordial. Salud.

Talking Heads

When I read this, I thought the author sounded a lot like John Derbyshire. Well, it is: http://www.amconmag.com/article/2009/feb/23/00006/. Smart boy, John, an expat Englishmen now happy to be in the states. It's a thoughtful piece and he lays out the current state of ideals as they exist or don't for the R's and also, the D's, especially as they relate to TV and radio pundits.

I don't enjoy listening to talk radio very much. I find it largely preaches to the choir or it too often goes overboard and I loathe listening to "Hal from Muncie" or some twit when he calls in to hear himself talk. I sometimes listen to the Bob Edwards show on XM when I'm making early morning drives to another city--he sometimes has on some interesting guests, but I become many times annoyed at the politics he wears on his sleeve--the guy is utterly tone deaf. It's also tough to find anything decent on sports talk radio, too. Lots of shouting over each other by co-hosts followed by suffering through endless commercial breaks for get rich quick or get out of debt schemes along with the growing plethora of dick enhancement remedies. If you think about it, the commercials reflect the demographic listening to the show: guys overly concerned with the size of their credit card debt and their peckers who also want to be rich, RICH overnight. When you think about it, maybe just listening to rock and roll isn't so bad for you after all. The lovely English lass, Danielle Lloyd would no doubt agree.

From my Cold Dead Hands...

Obama to Seek New Assault Weapons Ban

Previous Ban Expired in 2004 During the Bush Administration

http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/story?id=6960824&page=1

By JASON RYAN

WASHINGTON, Feb. 25, 2009—

-The Obama administration will seek to reinstate the assault weapons ban that expired in 2004 during the Bush administration, Attorney General Eric Holder said today.

"As President Obama indicated during the campaign, there are just a few gun-related changes that we would like to make, and among them would be to reinstitute the ban on the sale of assault weapons," Holder told reporters.

Holder said that putting the ban back in place would not only be a positive move by the United States, it would help cut down on the flow of guns going across the border into Mexico, which is struggling with heavy violence among drug cartels along the border. ...

"I think closing the gun show loophole, the banning of cop-killer bullets and I also think that making the assault weapons ban permanent, would be something that would be permitted under Heller," Holder said, referring to the Supreme Court ruling in Washington, D.C. v. Heller, which asserted the Second Amendment as an individual's right to own a weapon.

Canadian Corner

This guy from the Great White North is a little bitter but he has some salient points; http://network.nationalpost.com/np/blogs/fullcomment/archive/2009/02/24/colby-cosh-watching-boomers-suffer-is-worth-a-recession.aspx. It's best just not to think about it too much; that you're going to be working from now on and that we're essentially, France without good bread. It's especially going to be a big ol' bowl of slap-in-the-face for college grads to find out that sheepskin ain't what they thought it would be. I've got one in college and one starting in about a year, so I'm a little concerned for both of them. Dicey at best unless you're entering a growth industry like the government sector and like the rest of their age group, they have no clue at what's coming their way. Listening to old dad would be beneficial, but that goes against every bit of their DNA. Welcome to hard knocks. It's the first door after you leave school.

He died with his boots on

No, not Custer but this guy: http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/article2275504.ece. A delightful story to begin your day. Instead of guzzling the pills he would have been better off mainlining them. Seems like he went out fighting though, with the flag at full staff.

Pump it

Here's a piece regarding what not to do at the gym: http://abcnews.go.com/Health/WellnessNews/story?id=6922336&page=1. Some obvious stuff here including sitting on equipment for an inordinate amount of time while others are waiting. To observe man's (and woman's) inconsiderate treatment of others, belong to a gym. I actually belong to two gyms and see awful behavior on display fairly regularly. A few things not mentioned in the article:

Using the towel you just used to wipe your face and underarms to "clean" the bench or equipment you were using. That's just swell.

Using the blow dryers provided at the sinks to dry not the hair on your head but rather your pubic region. Is this really necessary? This especially applies if you're an old man. In fact, there should be a standing rule that any man over age forty should never be naked in any circumstance, especially in the locker room. But, you see 'em all the time walking around and striking up conversations with friends while their flabby ass flaps in the wind. Really great.

Wearing the same horribly shrunken Hanes undershirt you've worn for the last fifteen years to work out in along with the Hawaiian tropic themed swim trunks your wife bought on that Carnival cruise around the same time. Oh, also the same worn out tennis shoes that double as your grass cutting pair. That's nice.

If you're a woman, try to show up looking presentable. This does not apply to any Texas and/or Southern girl who wouldn't go to hell without first making sure she looked presentable. No, I'm talking to you, Miss New Jersey and you Miss Michigan and especially you, Miss Boston--for the sake of all that's holy, fix your ass up. Yeah, I know you're big on equality and all that Ted Kennedy shit, but the right to look as godawful as a guy shouldn't be something you aspire to, at least not down here. Well, it's probably not going to get that much better for you, but at least give it a shot. Make a trip to Academy. Buy some makeup. Comb that ratty ass hair of yours. Damn, life's too short to look that bad.

Stay off the #2 elliptical machine I like to use. You know who you are.

Bill Moyers - Hypocrite

Although hypocrite is way too mild for this bastard. A treasure trove of new articles are out on Mr. Sanctimonious.

From Slate:

http://www.slate.com/id/2211601/

http://www.slate.com/id/2211923/

http://www.slate.com/id/2212105/

The Weekly Standard:

http://www.weeklystandard.com/Content/Public/Articles/000/000/016/181aveps.asp

Ashes

It's Ash Wednesday, sinners, the beginning of Lent: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lent. Time to reflect on the wretchedness of your condition and fast and pray and generally think about what a disgusting lout you are. Most Catholics will also give up something or pledge to do something differently during this season leading up to Easter. Maybe it will mean giving up chocolate or alcohol or resolving not to curse--all noble things and sometimes people actually pull it off. It's a good thing that Lent comes when it does--can you imagine trying to get through Lent during football season? No way.

I've been a fairly poor attendee at mass these last few years but I'll go to Ash Wednesday services, if for nothing else to be reminded of my own mortality, if I'm not reminded enough each time I wheeze and grunt through an exercise session. The service itself is notable for its somber tone and the celebration that usually accompanies a Catholic mass is noticably muted. I kind of like that and I like that the lenten season at least allows a venue to expand your thinking a little beyond the obvious of the here and now. Sure, faith is part of it for most, but for those lost souls wandering along to who knows where, the contemplation part of these next forty or so days is heightened a little more. At least, I may hopefully think a little bigger as a result. In any event: Remember, O man, that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return. Modern translation: No one gets out alive.

Have a happy day.

Spring...

It's here where I am. The mountain laurels are blooming with that weirdly intoxicating grape bubble gum smell. The redbud trees, too. I've always wondered about why redbuds were named as such when their blooms are a violet or purple hue. I think the early settlers might have been fairly primary color based and didn't know much about anything outside of those. That said, spring is as one of my old high school coaches said, "a time when the sap runs, the flowers bloom, and the dick gets hard." Romantics those guys were. Spring, says Bianca Beauchamp makes her long for the beach. Why don't we all knock off and head that way?

The Oscars

Someone remarked that the Oscars event is the Super Bowl for women. That's probably about right, at least I had the same amount of interest in the thing as most (not all) women have in Super Sunday. So, I lounged in a chair reading a pretty dang good book ("Warriors of God" by James Reston) while looking over at the on screen happenings every now and then as the missus and daughter #2 were on couch #1 concentrating on the big game. I won't pretend that I'm not interested in acting and movies--I am. I'm even interested in the inane comments that frequently spew forth from thespians; their take on the world when they're not playing pretend for a living. It's worth it just for the rare occasions when they have something reasonable to say that wasn't fed to them by Hollywood's common wisdom machine. I'm also interested in anything worth seeing on the big screen actually shows up, so I can pay six bucks for popcorn. Not to sound like the grumpy old guy, but it's disappointing to hope for big things out of movies in production only to see the dismal reviews before they open. With that, here are a few random comments about last night's shindig:

I apparently missed Phoebe Cates on the red carpet. That's a shame because I relish the thought of a Phoebe Cates siting. Like many of my generation, I have never been able to perform any daily task like shaving or writing a check whenever the fleeting thought of the now Mrs. Kline and the pool scene from "Fast Times" engages for whatever reason. I just babble audibly and tear up a little.

Sarah Jessica Parker is hideous. She and that troll she's married to look like the king and queen of the zombie prom.

Hollywood celebrating itself is just plain embarrassing. If a bomb went off inside the theater, the world would lose ninety percent of its hubris and a shitload of carbon credits.

Are gays the current holocaust victims when it comes to Hollywood? Just asking. It seems like there is a big heterosexual guilt thing going on. I'd like to see a movie one day that depicts horrible gay people stealing money and maybe voting Republican and that kind of thing. Maybe also one where black people were really mean and Arabs were cruel terrorists and Democrats did some bad deeds--or maybe at least did not have halos. You know--a real world depiction that wasn't so predictable--hell, a gay person is entitled to be a despicable jerk just like anyone else. Until then, we'll just have to get by with rounding up the usual suspects: Nazis, and R's, and mean white men who refuse to let their sons dance, the bastards.

Some guy who just got an award for something went on a rant about gay marriage and for gay teens to be brave and stuff. Has this guy been to a high school lately? In case he doesn't know, it's not exactly unfashionable to be gay ANYWHERE in America. Hello?

There was a skit from that Seth Rogen guy along with James Franco that spoofed the "Pineapple Express" movie they did. I rented that recently and it proved that the best stoner footage ever done was Bill Murray's riff in "Caddyshack." Really, the stuff isn't that funny unless you're stupid and stoned.

Bill Maher is a fucking asshole. Hey, Bill, glad you're an atheist. How 'bout now shutting the fuck up about it? Who cares? Maher does more for Christianity than Billy Graham on HGH and bootleg Cialis. He's a no talent ass clown who thinks dissing God and those who engage in some type of belief system that doesn't center on picking up chicks half their age somehow makes him relevant. You suck, Maher and you never were anything but a cocksucking hack from the start. And I say that with the Lord Jesus Christ in my heart.

Sean Penn makes a big deal about decent people supporting gay marriage. He also says he's happy that we have a president who is "elegant." That's just grand, Sean. Now blow me. I realize Hollywood is highly pro-Dem/liberal or whatever and that's fine with me but still, people--are you only proud of your country when your guy is in office? Embarrassing.

"Slumdog" wins the best picture. I saw the movie and enjoyed it and thought it was fine and all. But, if Slumdog is your winner, that's pretty much an indictment of how overall crappy and watered down Hollywood has become. Slumdog should be in the category of a "good" movie if that town was putting out product. But, they're not. They sure can talk a good story, though. Just ask them about gay marriage.

Back to "Warriors of God." Richard the Lionheart is in Cyprus on his way to Tyre and then on to kick Saladin's ass. Richard has made a stop there because the Byzantine ruler at Cyprus quarantined one of his ships that was blown off course and stole a bunch of treasure and said he wasn't giving it back. Worse still, he was rude to Richard's bride to be. Well, Richard just wasn't having this shit and decided to kill the fucker but first took a vow to throw off his homosexual tendencies and had a religious ceremony where he gathered bishops and other fellow deviants to help him swear off that sweet, sweet man-ass. That's right, Richard the Lionheart, though engaged to a reportedly young and hot Spanish princette and pretty much a badass with the broadsword was otherwise a noted rump ranger and he and Philip of France were actually an item. From what I've read, Richard was probably the "top man" in the relationship and Philip, being a frog, assumed the "bottom" duties. Anyway, more to come and I'll have a review out after the thing is done. Until then, "Deus le Volt!" and hooray for Hollywood.

Back from the Border

Was in the Rio Grande Valley over the weekend for a wedding (wife's niece). Here are the highlights:

The wedding took place at the small mission in the ranching community where the missus grew up. Her father was a farmer and rancher there and their home and remaining property (much of what they had was sold off for low cost "subdivisions") is right on Military Highway--the two lane stretch of what eventually turns into Highway 281. The ranch house sits literally a three wood from the Rio Grande. Of course, you can't actually see the river; the levee blocks the view, but it's there. What's different now is that the top of the levee has been prepped with a nice, uniform layer of caliche for the imminent construction of The Wall. The border wall is coming their way. The furor over the wall has largely died down and jobs have been created to build the thing so people there are somewhat indifferent and resigned about it. It's purpose would have been more helpful five or ten or fifteen years ago when illegals were coming across the Rio Bravo in waves but now it's mostly a trickle since the jobs have dried up on this side and coyotes are charging upwards to six grand to cross someone. Anyway, standing outside at the wedding reception there at the ranch, we all reminisced of how the Valley used to be before the wall and the subdivisions and cable television and microwaves and Wal-Mart. But mostly, what it was like before the drugs. Because, the drugs changed it all. Oh, it's still largely a place of smiling people, infinitely more happy than those trudging through snow and ice on their way to work this morning in Scranton or Milwaukee or wherever. But when the dope started coming over big time, the Valley that my wife and those that grew up there knew and loved changed with it. Those small ranching communities began taking casualties, as sons and daughters and cousins and tios got hooked and what's happened in a thousand other places happened there. The dope takes down lives and scars families and rattles or destroys faith and brings on the multiple locks and security cameras and not trusting your neighbors. Sure, folks move on and find ways to live and will still exchange pleasantries, but the joy they once had in this life has been cored out from the inside. Their son or brother or cousin is a casualty. But unlike Iraq or Afghanistan, he isn't at the VA getting treated or buried with his fallen comrades. No, he's lurking somewhere nearby. Maybe they caught a glimpse of him coming out of a dingy apartment building or a motel or he showed up at the house under the pretext of a visit while everyone knows he's only there hoping for some cash. Or, they got a call from some low life asking if they've seen him. It just doesn't go away and they die a little each day as he slowly withers away. It just doesn't let up. And the happy Valley lives on only in billboards.

Anyone living there knows very well the trouble happening on the other side. If you don't, here's a fairly good primer from this past Saturday's WSJ: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123518102536038463.html. This was the first visit in 25 years where we did not go across for dinner and shopping and everyone we came in contact with did not go either and for exactly the same reason: they're having gunfights right and left on the other side at every time of day. In fact, the State Department just issued a fairly strong warning to U.S. citizens regarding travel there. This has been going on for some time now in Nuevo Laredo and Juarez, but the Valley has largely been spared until recently. The bad guys haven't shown a proclivity for involving gringos, but it's a matter of time before some American gets hit by crossfire, or is in fact taken as a hostage and it will probably continue to get worse before it gets better. Really, the reason it is awful over there right now is because the Mexican Army is actually taking some fight to the cartels. Time will tell if they have the will to continue the battle.

I have a relative sitting on the grand jury in one of the main cities in the Valley and a lot of what the jury hears are cases related to drugs. Here are a couple of methods that drugs are getting crossed: U.S. customs agents are getting bribed with incredible sums of money. The agent will place a call on his cell phone as he walks to his assigned lane. At that point, the drug runners will stack four or so cars in a row packed with product that have been waiting and they'll cut into the line. Then, the customs guy will allow them to pass through without inspection. Or, the dealers will approach a shopper in Matamoros or other border town in Mexico who has Texas or other U.S. plates. He'll pay them to "go shopping for a few hours" while they relinquish keys to their car. While they shop, the bad guys will install their shipment somewhere in the vehicle and then bring the car back to the same spot. The shopper will then be instructed to drive across and then park at a mall in the U.S. and again go shopping for a few hours while the drugs are then removed for further distribution. If the shopper is caught going through U.S. customs, he or she has no idea what is in the car or where. It's still largely a numbers game, just like the Tony Montana days--the cartels are fully prepared to see shipments seized because they're flooding the market and know that most of the stuff will make it through.

I had a first on Saturday morning while eating breakfast at the hotel. While finishing my plate of chilaquiles, I spied something that did not look exactly congruous. On closer inspection, it was, yes, a perfect specimen of an expired roach. A lot of people would have been outraged and I certainly wasn't happy about it, but I'm fairly sure that I've eaten a lot of them during my long career of chowing down at some less than spectacular venues and this place was pretty nice and new. I simply called attention to it to the staff and expressed a small amount of concern. Essentially, not an asshole but with a little bit of a furrowed brow--you know, the kind of look where they're not really sure what this guy might do. The result was that my little amigo significantly helped with the cost of the hotel stay. As the song says, it can sometimes be good to have friends in low places.

As American As...

Previous conversations w/ Sr. Bulba, as well as my ogling of the choice cuts a little further down the page, got me to thinking a little about Western culture and civilization, or more importantly -America's contribution to it. Now, I'm not just talking about the mainstreaming of tasteful pictures of half-nekkid beauties, as much as I may value its/their place in my everyday life. Nor am I talking about the basic stuff we all learned in grade school, broad concepts that shape our lives but aren't really a part of everyday water cooler discussions. I'm talking about personal things that I own/owned or events I witnessed, the minutia of daily life that paints the larger picture of American culture. So, my mint condition June '78 Playboy aside, here is my list, in no particular order:

1. Rebel Flag. I grew up in the deep south and it seemed natural to have the Stars and Bars hung on the wall over my bed. To a innocent kid it didn't hold much symbolism (aside from the almost instinctual belief that anyone living north of the Mason-Dixon was a Class A douche bag), but to an adult in today's world in most certainly does. Aside from being a reminder that America was able to survive such a bloody civil conflict to become an even stronger nation, it symbolizes the continuing struggle of our great country to ensure that all men are indeed created equal. Contrary to what most of Europe and all of California would have you believe, no other country in the world is as large a melting pot as the USA, and none tries harder to provide equal rights for each and every one of its citizens.

2. Ticket Stubs, Super Bowl VI, 1972. Dallas Cowboys 24, Miami Dolphins 3. America's Team. Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. What more can I say?

3. Elvis 45's I still have. Say what you want about the mop-topped, Nehru jacket wearing nancy-boys of the british invasion, there was only one king.

4. My last doctor's report, which includes my latest cholesterol level of 315. That is most assuredly a lingering effect of the approx. 4063 McDonald's Big Mac/side large fries I inhaled as a teenager. Nothing says America like a big ol' greasy bag of fast food. Nothing tastes better, either.

5. Silver Surfer Comic Books, numbers 1-10. Before Hugh Hefner became the older brother I wish I had, Marvel Comics, Stan Lee and others kept me away from the tv on those days when it as just too miserable to go outside. Great thing was that I didn't have to lock the door when I read 'em.

6. Ratty ol' pair of Levi's. I only wear them when I'm doing yard work or painting, but I'll bet I could get 100 bucks for 'em in Prague. The rest of the world still hasn't figured out how to make a decent pair of dungarees.

7. Screw it, I'm going to include my mint condition, June '78 Playboy. Why? Like most men of my generation, Playboy had a memorable place in my formative years, and to this day my barber hands me the latest edition the minute I sit in his chair. Besides, people the world over no longer envy us because we live in the land of opportunity and the streets are paved with gold. They're bitter as hell because we have the opportunity to hit on Miss February 2008, that cute little blond who lives next store, attends City College and hates phony people.

More to come later. Feel free to add to the list.

Screaming Cats

Here's something on hangover cures known in various locales: http://www.travelandleisure.com/articles/worlds-strangest-hangover-cures/. I've found that if I'm able to get enough sleep and down a couple of Tylenol PMs prior to conking out, it usually works out okay. At least, I'm not tempted to shoot myself, anyway. In the old days, I went for a large fountain drink of Coke or something along with a big plate of Tex-Mex. I'll do the hair of the dog thing now on those rare occasions when I'm on a boys trip out of town somewhere but that probably won't translate into a bogey free round of golf. Or, for me, a triple bogey free round. Goddamn golf. But, all that aside, I can fully guarantee a greatly lessened hangover effect when waking up next to this prime specimen. At least the throbbing will be transferred to a southerly direction.

Motivational Speech

An American soldier dresses down a group of Iraqi policemen and tries to motivate them. Language is a bit salty. It reminds me of Patton's explanation of why he slapped the soldier in the field hospital for battle fatigue - "If you can shame a coward..."


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1GrdTakvl8

More Bible Fun

Cracked with some heartwarming bible stories: http://www.cracked.com/article_16546_6-raunchiest-most-depraved-sex-acts-from-bible.html. Nothing new here, just a reminder that you shouldn't feel really too bad about that sick stuff that runs through your mind throughout the day--the Israelites were all over it when it came to weird shit. See also their rendering of the Judah/Tamar throwdown touched on here in last week's "Off the Road" post (Tamar not pictured at right). Onward, Christian soldiers, onward.

Surf's up

Caught "Riding Giants" again on cable last night. The film, shot in 2004, is a fascinating look into the origins of surfing, the surfing culture, and more particularly the "big wave" riders of the sport. What is immediately apparent is that the popular surfer dude image is not what the sport is about, nor does it do justice to the guys who were there in the early days or the elite athletes who ride the big waves today. They're serious people because what they do involves living on a fine edge where the only thing that matters is the immediate here and now of what they're facing. That kind of living eliminates the minutiae that rules everyone that isn't them. Strong stuff. Great personalities including Greg Noll, the pioneer of the big wave riders who is funny as hell to listen to. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was someone's grumpy uncle. Then there's Jeff Clark who discovered Mavericks off of the Northern California coast and essentially surfed it alone for fifteen years before anyone else attempted it. But the guy who inspires absolute jaw dropping awe is this fellow, pictured at right: Laird Hamilton. Hamilton is recognized as the greatest of them all and developed the concept of "tow-in" surfing whereby he's jet skied to outer waves of 70 feet or so and rides them in a dance of death with the ocean--a great probability of death if he falls. He's a compelling character and is absolutely one of those guys who lives up to the billing of "larger than life." Catch it if you can. The film, that is. Leave the big waves to Hamilton and the other brave and lucky few.

Engineering 101

Around my house, there is one time of year when my failings as a parent are most apparent. No, it's not Christmas, when my little bundle of joy receives 619 toys and I spend a week or so adding another walk-in closet to hold it all. Nope, wasn't last weeks basketball game - there were plenty of other dads there that made me feel damn near reticent. Nor will it be this year's vacation travel to another distant land.

No, it's pinewood derby time. Tonight and this weekend - while I am cutting and sanding a small block of wood - I'll be reminded of all the loud and insistent declarations - made confidently to buddies whose kids had become teenagers and had started doing what teenagers do, namely irritating the dog shit out of mom and dad. "Things are going to be different at mi casa" I said, chest sticking out. My kid was going to be his own man, learn to take care of himself early on. Hell, he'd be cutting the grass at age five, fly fishing at age seven, stuff like that. If he wanted to do something, he was going to learn to do it himself.

Big words - all made before feeling the pressure of watching my son place his car on the derby track for the first time, knowing that the cars lined up next to it weren't built by the other boys at all. They were built with scroll saws and high speed dremels and had been designed within certain tolerances. They had survived wind-tunnel testing and had finishes that would bring tears to the eyes of Earl Scheib. This was no kids game - this was Indy at the height of its glory. This was Don "The Snake" Prudhomme vs. Tom "The Mongoose" McEwen. And I'll be damned if my son wasn't going to at least look like he belonged in the race.

So tonight it's back to the workshop, try to turn a piece of pine into the Batmobile. And my boy? Hell, he'll lose interest after a few minutes and head to the other room, watch some Spongebob…

Cups Running Over

Here's an inside peak into the world of plastic surgery: http://www.vanityfair.com/style/features/2009/02/plastic-surgery200902?printable=true&currentPage=all. I guess you wouldn't be a human being if you didn't have some pretty strong feelings about nuclear combat, er, plastic surgery. For men, plastic surgery means boob jobs on women but the field has definitely expanded. It wasn't until about a year or so ago that I became aware of the concept of "vaginal reconstruction" or that there was even a demand for it. Go ahead, do a Google search and you'll find out all you need to know about it. As for breast augmentation, I'm all for it if a woman wants it. The only issue for me is the all too common "robo-boob" result--two perfect orbs jutting forward with little or no cleavage in between. Interesting also, is the noticeable boob job result at the gym or on the running trail. I fully appreciate the full bosom but the things don't bounce; always a minor deduct in scoring. A skilled doc who can do an augmentation that maintains a natural look should be worth his weight in gold bullion. Probably not a lot of them out there. But, with an almost 500% increase in the number of procedures since 1997, if I'm going to med school, it ain't to become a pediatrician.

Here you go...

...something for all of you knuckle draggers to gnaw on after you're through suppressing voters for the day: http://www.slate.com/toolbar.aspx?action=print&id=2210158. Professor Appiah, between sips of fair trade latte, reviews Professor Wolfe's treatise on "The Future of Liberalism." Ripping stuff here including the obligatory smug put downs of BushHitler and the overall backwardness of the great unwashed red voters. That is, by Appiah. Herr Doktor Wolfe though seems like a fairly reasoned fellow, at least willing to cede that there may actually be another point of view, wrongheaded as it may be. Most folks, even if they identify themselves as liberal or conservative are usually able to admit after a few pops or intensive police interrogation that the other side may have a point now and then. That's probably what's been on the mind of many people during the last year or so and Obama certainly capitalized on that sentiment by casting himself as a more reasoned champion of a more united country. Got him more than a few normally red votes. That's admirable (though tough to pull off) and he deserves not only credit for seizing the day with the big picture issue but also some slack in the initial stage of his presidency. Likewise, conservatives in the guise of the Republican Party would do well to figure out that the ship has sailed on a whole lot of stuff that provided useless ballast for them in the last campaign. In other words, return to a party that thinks big and values big thinking. Stand for something once in a while and get rid of the nabobs.

Boobs are good though. That's one thing the conservatives are going good at--hot, good looking chicks. Something to build on.

They Rule

Haven't linked to them in a while: http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/. Consistently, bringing the giggling joy that is EDSBS, I have trouble understanding why the rest of the internets just doesn't go ahead and shut down. CNN? Drudge? Why the hell for when you've got daily UT/OU smack, Tennessee Vol torture, and LSU Freak to throw smegma into the air. Great stuff. Scroll down and check out the Woody Hayes nude interview technique. Only problem going to EDSBS right now is that it reminds you there's no college football being played, though spring drills are thankfully only a few weeks away. Allah is kind and merciful.

Happy President's Day

You can probably get a good deal on a mattress today.

"President's" Day

Okay, it's something called President's Day, which means a lot of appliance ads in the newspapers with Lincoln's and Washington's picture. Oh, how proud they would be. For once, I'd like to see one of these with Millard Filmore's mug or Clinton or someone else. Hell, they were presidents, too. Today also means that most schools are out and banks close and people screw off and also probably screw.

I used to get bent out of shape that while MLK got his own day, Lincoln and Washington and the Roosevelts (Ted and Frank) and everybody else just get lumped in together. They were pretty damn big deals, too. Now, I just don't give a shit. Maybe president's day should be the one day a year where the president doesn't have to take any crap from anyone and can say whatever he wants. He could walk out on the south lawn or west lawn or east pasture or wherever and light some M-80s and drink Miller out of a quart bottle in a brown paper bag and yell, "Get some!" while aiming bottle rockets at the gathered press. He could call up Bud Selig and tell him what a dickhead he is and fart into the receiver and have Bud answer, "Thank you, Mr. President, may I have another?" He could light up a cig, stroll over to the ever present protesters outside the White House gates and grab his crotch before having some of his college buddies along for the festivities turn the water cannons on them. He could take a good country dump in the Rose Garden. He could walk around inside wearing those pants and shoes and that ugly ass shirt that his wife absolutely hates and could have "Caddyshack" and "Animal House" playing on a continuous loop. He could eat Dinty Moore Beef Stew right out of the pan and not rinse it out afterward. And, of course, the toilet lid stays up for the duration. Aiming optional.

Maybe in the future, we'll all be president for one brief, shining day. In America anything is possible.

Let's Get it On

Valentine's Day is tomorrow. The sex expert at Fox writes about doing the deed in public places: http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,491944,00.html. Check out her list and see how many you can cross off under the heading of "been there and done that." If nothing else, it may bring back some fond memories or give you an idea for the weekend. Loosen up the back, first.

More on the Great Game

No, not the Super Bowl, but a report from Michael Yon (see Shellback's after action report from the same source) on what's been going on now for a very long time--the "Great Game" pitting Russia against the West, this time namely the US of A: http://www.michaelyon-online.com/how-much-is-afghanistan-really-worth-to-us.htm. Yon is in the same boat as a lot of people who have been on the ground over there: yes, we can be successful to some degree and our troops can carry the day in most every battle, but at what cost? We're up against a hardened foe that hasn't changed much over the centuries except for his weaponry, and is happy to bide time by squatting in a crevice for years, only occasionally coming out to molest a boy or praise Allah that women have the same status as livestock. All the while, we'll throw endless dollars into the logistics of supporting the whole enterprise at ultimately what gain? I'm hopeful that Obama is receiving keen and intelligent advice on what lies ahead and what we can possibly achieve. In the meantime, I celebrate the bravery and skill of our boys on the ground, in the air, and at sea but it pains me to see the loss of even one of these guys on behalf of a people with no inclination to change and who despise us for bringing anything resembling light into the world.

The Emancipator

Lincoln is 200 today and there's a world of stuff out there remarking on his life and legacy, including this: http://www.neh.gov/news/humanities/2009-01/Lincoln.html. I've always admired Lincoln for many things, particularly his determination and ability to persevere through challenges that would have deep sixed pretty much anyone else. They just don't make guys like him or that guy from Virginia, Bobby Lee, anymore. Henry Louis Gates, Jr., a Harvard professor is out with a new treatment on Lincoln, called "Looking for Lincoln." I heard Gates interviewed on the radio the other day and then watched his show on PBS last night. Gates indicated that he was shocked to learn some things about the great emancipator that were counter to his understanding. I find Gates to be a very decent man and I don't quibble much with anything he says, which namely settles on Gates, as an African American, coming to grips with the fact that Lincoln was a racist and was quite ready to throw blacks under the bus, or carriage in order to save the Union. What I find a little troubling is that a Harvard prof is just now finding out something about Honest Abe that hasn't been much of a secret for a very long time now--hell, I knew about this stuff while still in the idiot high school I had the privilege to attend (we did have the largest FFA in the nation, thank you very much). You sort of expect Hahvad, and Yale and all the rest of the Ivies to be a little versed on subject matter and Gates' startling discovery lends credence to the growing school of thought that thoughts in fact are fairly fleeting up there. Maybe it's the winters or the organic produce. Whatever the case, your kids should be okay at Tech or State or wherever and the girls will damn sure rate higher. All that said, happy birthday, Abe. If you see Sherman up there, tell him he can kiss my rebel ass.

The Eagle Went Over the Mountain

Pretty good slide show on the tactics of our enemies in Afghanistan. At the end of the pictures on the below link - click on where it says, "Please click to view entire Power Point". See the last few slides if you don't have time for all of it. I went through it last night, pretty interesting.

http://www.michaelyon-online.com/the-eagle-went-over-the-mountain.htm

Speaking of knuckle draggers...

Found the following "interview" with Charles Darwin to be quite entertaining, http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=darwin-speaks

I guess I'm as knowledgeable about the theory of evolution as the next guy, but I never bothered to study too much about Mr. Darwin's personal life or beliefs. I have never let my own personal religious beliefs get in the way of my grasp of science, and figured most scientists felt the same way. It was interesting to read of Darwin' orthodox religious beliefs, at least those he held as a young man, and to imagine Darwin's own internal wrestling with the issue. Turns out, it really wasn't much of a wrestling match - more of a forfeit.

I guess I have always imagined that evolution and religion were kinda like frosted flakes and beer. Most would say that you can’t combine the two, but that nonsense doesn’t apply to my way of thinking. Religion, as it is “created” by man, is the fly in the ointment, the frosted flakes in the beer. I haven’t found a food yet that isn’t positively accentuated by a good beer, and I haven’t seen or imagined a world yet where God isn’t hovering around somewhere…

The Other Guy is an Idiot

Shankar Vedantam recaps what has been talked about for some time now, that Americans have become polarized to the extent that they essentially live either in red or blue ghettos: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/01/18/AR2009011802323_pf.html. Vedantam thinks that this "clustering" of folks of the same political stripe into their own enclaves of similar minded souls results in people never bumping into anyone who thinks differently. I see this a lot in my city, which is predominantly liberal. In the latest election, you could literally see solid blocks of homes with Obama signs, with nary a McCain sign in sight. Sure, you can chalk some of this up to an energized and effective Democratic machine along with W's soaring unpopularity but to a great extent, it's folks wanting to live around those who think the same way they do. More power to 'em but doesn't this get a little boring, not to mention out of touch with the other half of the country that surely has one or two brave souls whose knuckles don't drag?

My own neighborhood is mostly left of center as born out by precinct results and what I know about the other folks on my street and those around me. The neighbors on one side are rabid Dems, with the nasty bumper stickers to prove it. They're also highly intelligent (the guy is literally a rocket scientist). I get along with them fine and they don't keep me awake hurling invectives against Republican scum or burning draft cards. On the other side is an earnest young family and they're solid red staters, sporting an impressive arsenal of lawn equipment and are not reticent about deploying industrial strength insecticides at the mere sight of a random crawling interloper on their property. All in all, real respectful folks. Pretty much the same right down the street--a few more blue staters than red but living around each other does seem to bring a level of understanding and civility in recognizing that the guy next door may vote like an idiot but he or she is a pretty good person, nevertheless. That's probably a good thing. I do my best to remain vague on political leanings as it's more fun to keep 'em guessing. Hopefully the belt fed .30 cal mounted in the bed of my truck doesn't give me away. That, along with the fishnet stockings.

Nip it in the Bud, Andy!

If you were to walk into my den on any weekday evening between the hours of 6:30 and 7:30, odds are that the television, if it's turned on, would be tuned either to some youngster drivel like "Drake and Josh" or to any sports telecast involving a local team. The kid's homework is usually done by then, so he is allowed a little tube time. In reality, the tv does little more than provide a little background noise. Junior has seen every program on Nick Jr. at least 473 times, and there is nothing on "prime time" that we could - or would want to - watch as a family. So we take care of the usual mundane household shit while the idiot box drones on annoyingly in the background.

Last night, however, I stumbled on "The Andy Griffith Show". It was on some cable channel way on down the line, buried under 400 channels of crap. I'm not one watch a whole lot of tv so I never check the listings, never knew it still aired. Anyway, as soon as I saw Opie fidgeting around, trying not to tell Pa that some bully was stealing his milk money (a nickel) every day, I stopped everything I was doing and sat down to watch. Pretty soon the missus and the youngun sat down to join me. I'd forgotten just how good it was - I'd even say it was a productive use of 30 minutes. Good message, good family, good friends, no profanity, etc. We laughed our collective asses off every single time Barney was on the screen. It was better than anything on tv today - I didn't even mind that there were no scantily clad babes (Aunt Bea? Thelma Lou?) to look at. Hell, I even enjoyed trying to explain black and white television to my son.

He still doesn't get the b&w stuff. But that's okay. He liked the show, and wants to watch it again. For those of you out there who have lived through every episode of iCarly, you'll understand just how much of a blessing that is.

Martini Wars

Jason Wilson, one of the limp wristed salon lurking Troskyites over at the Washington Post says the WSJ is all wrong about what makes a good martini: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/02/03/AR2009020300495.html?sid=ST2009020302812&s_pos=. We've had a lot of discussion lately about martinis (see previous posts by both Shellback and yours truly on the subject).

Wilson calls those under the banner of the dry martinis "bullies" and advocates a fruitier concoction. Figures. I think Mr. Wilson squats to take a piss. While wearing a beret.

Please note that the attractive lady at right is not holding what would be technically described as a martini and that I don't care.

Off the Road

Back from the Land of Enchantment after four or so days of slamming down bad food and one or two adult beverages. Oh, there was some golf, too. 27 holes each day in lieu of skiing (snow was mediocre and the wind howled the whole time). Some random observations:

1. I can't hit a three iron.

2. Some downhill putts in a mountainous area are actually uphill and, likewise, uphill putts can sometimes really be downhill. It's not enough that golf is an already thoroughly punitive and hideous exercise without also having to put up with this shit. Goddamnit, I hate the game. Bastard Scot sheep molesters!

3. God bless Texas and its 80mph zone on IH-10. Also, 75mph on US 285. In Texas, that is. Once you cross into New Mexico, it goes to 65. No wonder the state subsists on meager oil revenues, some coins from tourists, and unhappy Mescaleros running casinos here and there.

4. Saw Gov. Bill Richardson on tv a few times. Instead of hanging with the big dogs in Obamaland, his financial buffoonery has him running herd on a bridge project in Alamogordo. Poor bastard. Not even some nice parting gifts.

5. There are worse places than Pecos, Texas and Artesia, NM. I'll get back to you when I can think of where they may be. Career advice: if you find yourself living in Pecos (shot of suburbs shown at upper right), it's probably not going to happen for you. Ever.

6. Listened to around 15 or so lectures on Genesis during the road trip. My favorite story is that of Tamar and her father in law, Judah. Judah was a big deal and apparently employed his own goat herders and had his own private latrine hole. Anyway, Tamar's husband, Er (great name), eldest son of Judah, was smote by God because God was hacked off about something--doesn't say what. Could have pissed on a tent flap, who knows? Due to area law, Judah's next eldest son, Onan had to pork Tamar in order to provide an heir for the late Er. Onan, gladly agreed to the task and began pile driving the living shit out of the comely Tamar, but engaged in "seed spilling" or what we purists call "pulling out." Accordingly, God thought this was bad form, so he killed Onan, too. Judah, on the other hand, thought that Tamar was just straight up bad luck so he told her to keep her ass out of sight and live a widow's life somewhere, even though Judah had another son and had told Tamar that she could have a go with him once the young lad began sporting wood in the mornings. Well, many years passed. One day, Tamar got a glimpse of the youngest son and he had grown to a strapping young man with a noticeable bulge, obviously well equipped for close quarter diddling. She was ticked off that Judah had not lived up to his promise of a flesh injection so she began plotting a little payback. Apparently, she knew her father in law pretty well, and had him pegged as a horny old bastard. So, one day when he was making his way into town to watch over the sheep shearing or kick an Edomite or something, she positioned herself on the corner dressed as a whore, with a veil covering her face (you can get this outfit for the missus at Frederick's, I think). Judah saw her and offered her a goat for her services. "No, I don't have the goat on me but I'll get it to you." Yeah, sure, Tamar said. She was no fool and wasn't giving up the booty with some horse shit offer like this so she demanded that Judah leave his staff (the wooden kind) and signet as collateral until he could return with said livestock. Anyway, Judah pounded the disguised Tamar like there was no tomorrow and left. Next day, he returned with the goat, but there was no whore to be found and the village told him they ran a clean show and were in a dry county anyway and to get his sorry old ass out of town. Well, three months later, Judah got word that his daughter in law had been acting like a "harlot" and was pregnant. He knew damn well that she was bad luck and quickly instructed that she be burned, BURNED. Tamar then presented the staff and signet as the property of the guy who knocked her up and Judah got all red in the face and said she wasn't a bad girl after all and what a great piece of ass she was and damnit it all, I guess she's good enough and let's all just put this behind us and move on and do the country's business (Clinton knew his bible stories). The moral according to Jewish scholars is that Tamar represents Israel in confronting greater powers and overcoming them with intellect and the righteousness of their cause. I prefer to think the story reminds that you need to watch your ass when dealing with a woman like Tamar. She'll either kill you or at least take half of everything and you won't be worth a shit either way. Shalom.

It's Friday afternoon, and if you're like me you have but 2 things on your mind. Little Miss Bavaria over here says she understands, but you'd better make up your mind.

Quick.

Here I Am!

A local columnist wrote a piece in Sunday's paper concerning Facebook. This particular writer is reasonably conservative, and I have always found him to be well grounded. In other words, not only do I read his stuff, I usually make it to the end of his column without convulsing with anger/pity/shock/nausea.

To wit, he recommended started a Facebook page. Like me (he seems to be about my age), he had long eschewed such nonsense, leaving it to recent elementary/high school/college grads who had much more time, computer knowledge, and probably disposable income on their hands. However, he decided to give it shot, and after a few months he had done a complete turn around. Thought it was the greatest thing since free porn. He had re-connected with old friends, got little "hello" messages all the time, blah, blah blah.

I still don't know. The idea of sharing the tedium of my average day with the rest of the world seems, well, to be more than just a bit self-centered. "My son kicked me in the shin last night. Little bastard - it hurt like hell". "I started the day with the most satisfying dump of the last 3 weeks!". Riveting stuff. I mean, that's what this blog is for, right?

Don't get me wrong - reconnecting and reminiscing w/ old buddies is one of my favorite pastimes. Sharing a few frosty beverages, discussing the many fuck-ups of our youth, embellishing the numerous failures with women, exaggerating other conquests that really weren't something to be proud of, and generally dredging up memories so painful that we had spent years burying them...man, I just can't get enough of that stuff.

Still, do I want to open myself up to the whole world on a daily basis? I did a quick check at "Facebook Search" and quickly found a few girls whom I, uh, dated many years ago. Do I really want them finding me as easily?

Let Fly

According to Mary Ann Akers of the Washington Post, Nancy Pelosi was overheard at the Annual Congressional Dinner saying she "..wants to pee on the Washington Times."

Funny, I got a bitch at home who would be also be happy to pee all over the Washington Times - assuming I had a copy to lay on the floor - but I doubt she would make such a fuss about it. Then again, the bitch at my house is an attractive example of her line, was born with an acute natural instinct, seems to understand that life ain't fair and deals with it without a lot of yelping, knows when to stay out of my business, and makes me happy when she curls up next to me and puts her head in my lap.

None of which can be said for an obviously inferior and somewhat poorly trained breed of hound up in D.C....

Silliness

Seeing these fellows tonight at the Frank Erwin Center. I had bought the tickets as a Xmas gift for the missus not taking into account that:

1. I'm leaving early in the morning for the aforementioned ski trip fiasco.

2. Missus and I are both coming down with something. Probably not syphilis.

3. Teenage daughter #2 will be sitting with a group of her friends all of five rows over. Uh, I guess we have to behave. Then again, perhaps I'll fashion an impromptu mosh pit and hurl myself into some of the nice young people around me. That should make her thrill with joy.

4. Forgot that these rock and roll types keep late hours and probably won't show up on stage until 10 at the earliest. I already need a nap.

Health Food

Lunch for me is usually a quick sandwich or salad. You know, something quick, easy, moderately healthy and won't weigh you down as you struggle to make a buck or two. Not today. Had a buddy "in country" who wanted to experience good ol' American home cooking before heading back to the land of pork and cabbage. Took him to south Dallas for the greatest home-cooking/soul food this side of Jackson, MS: Sweet Georgia Brown's.

Today's menu included beef tips, pan fried chicken and pork chops, meat loaf, smothered chicken, and the requisite sliced beef. Veggies includes collard greens, string beans, broccoli rice, mashed potatoes and (real) gravy, okra, sweet peas and carrots, and black-eyed peas. Damn.

Grew up in Memphis and there were 2 iron clad rules on bbq joints. First one was that if you felt comfortable patronizing the joint in question after the sun went down, forget about it. It ain't no good. The second was that if you walked in and saw any shade of skin lighter than coffee w/cream working behind the counter or in the kitchen, then get yo ass back out the door. Sweet Georgia Brown's is like them bbq joints - ain't never had a white person pass through the door to do nothing but eat there. And that's how it ought to be.

SGB runs through more lard and salt in a week than all of Fulton County, Georgia does in a month. Yeah, I know we got a problem w/ obesity in this country. Diabetes too. Well, at least once a month I don't give a damn about that shit. I want to do as much gastrointestinal damage as I possibly can, while causing my cardiovascular system to damn near shut down. Sweet Georgia Brown's makes that deliciously easy to do.

And I got about half left over for dinner. Hot damn!

Ski Trip

Leaving on what is loosely termed a ski trip along with a couple of other fellow Cialis enthusiasts (don't worry, we're not packing heat for this exercise). We do this, or try to do this barring personal or professional disasters at this same time each year; trekking over to one of the guy's vacay-home in New Mexico. Same drill each time which goes as follows:

1. Assemble and grumble during loading of equipment/baggage for about 15 minutes before actually leaving. Argue regarding the best route out of town. Complain about lack of coffee.

2. Spend roughly the first hour of the trip discussing business and family calamities and casting shared dispersions upon the forces of evil set upon upsetting our frail outlook on life.

3. Engage the first of several "Teaching Company" courses. Prior to this, a violent argument will ensue regarding the subject choice. Ultimately, the first will be something on religion, probably "Genesis" or something by Ehrman or Levine. After each 45 minute lecture, a brief period of reflective discussion will occur, followed quickly by a rapid descent into profane insults directed against the learned scholar in question or even the religious or social group profiled. Nothing is sacred, as we have learned--the author of the Gospel of John tends to catch a lot of shit, while the synoptics get off somewhat lighter. Mark was a dour bastard.

4. Make first stop in Ozona. Gas up and then hit the Dairy Queen next door. I haven't eaten a hamburger in about 3 months and I've thought about this moment for most of those days. Nothing spectacular about a DQ burger--it's just the delicious thought of shoving something horribly greasy and artery clogging into your pie hole with abandon. Really, there are worse things, but this is sort of a symbol of all that you tend deny yourself when you realize you're getting old and you have to goddamn take care of what goes for a body. On top of that, there will be a large order of fries and the biggest vanilla shake possible. I may even bring in a gallon jug and have them fill it. Sick shit, but there you have it.

5. Back on the road (God bless Texas and the 80 mph limit). More lectures, more dispersions upon professors and the shitbird who got high on goatweed and wrote Revelation. Seriously, what a tool.

6. Stop in Pecos. Unpile from vehicle, stand up, look around and marvel at the perfect wretchedness of the place. Really, really awful in a way that shames any South Texas hellhole. Regardless, make a run by the tamale place at the edge of town and load up on more grease.

7. Roll into New Mexico. Major deduct to that state for the reduced speed limits. Also, New Mexico law enforcement are notably humorless souls.

Eventually, we get there, grumble while unpacking and then make a joint assault upon the town's largest grocery, Lawrence Brothers which I have always preferred calling, "Mitchell Brothers." I don't know why but they have to accept it or I will refuse to buy their goddamn bacon. And, we buy a lot of bacon for this stay. Did you know that bacon goes well with Oreos? Three or four guys wandering through a grocery store is never a good thing for anyone. It will take them the better part of a year to get their displays back in order after we depart and restore the produce area to something less than a war zone. Hideous.

After that, it's pretty much eat, drink, curse, go to the bathroom, watch movies that your wife won't watch and then get up the next morning to repeat, except with skiing and/or golf thrown in. We'll do this for three days before heading back on a somewhat more somber drive on Sunday. Mondays afterward are hell but they're damn sure worth it. Adios.

Eurostyle

Oh how the Europeans love us now! Why hell, recent elections prove that us provincials over her in the American backwoods are well on our way to being just as "enlightened" as our european betters. Further emasculation of our national identity should start happenin' faster'n gettin' a frenchman to raise both hands.

Why, just check out the latest in "men's" fashions from the runways of europe, compliments of blog follower Glenn. You can't help but get all snuggly with your feminine side just by looking at looking at 'em!

http://www.chron.com/life/photogallery/lkx_European_menswear_.html

Metrosexuals from New York to Austin are all a-twitter with hopes that these gender-erasing duds will soon be on the shelves at their favorite boutiques. Such accouterments are the perfect -and fashionable!!! - way to let those they meet know just how ashamed they are to be an American male.

Just in time for lunch...

...this cheerful report from Philip Bethge on European cannibalism, apparently popular until around 1800: http://www.spiegel.de/international/zeitgeist/0,1518,604548,00.html. Evidently, the euros liked a nice dram of crushed brains every now and then just to stay regular or something. Epileptics hung around execution sites to get a hot cup of blood from the recently deceased--it did wonders for the shakes. Gripping stuff.

That's just "gross" according to the young English lass pictured here. She's right.

Matt Damon, he of Jason Bourne and giggly-man-crush-on-Obama fame had this to say about James Bond:

"Because Bond is an imperialist, misogynist sociopath who goes around bedding women and swilling martinis and killing people. He’s repulsive."

Repulsive? No man still sporting a pair would say that. Okay, maybe if he's working on his "I'm really a sensitive guy" routine to bed that chick with the 20-year-old ass sitting 3 bar stools down, maybe. And then he only gets a pass if it works and he's got the vid to prove it. Otherwise...

It's her birthday

Farrah is 62 today. Yes sir, sixty-two. Her poster adorned the wall of 149 Kokernot Hall many years ago along with countless other dorm rooms far and wide, bringing solace and hope to hard dicks everywhere. I don't think things turned out as well for Farrah as she had hoped, but what a natural beauty she was and she did well in a few roles here and there. A Texas girl, too. Here's to you, Farrah, and hope the rest of the way is smooth sailing.

What Women Want...

...is something that none of us understand. Turns out, scientific types don't know jack either: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/25/magazine/25desire-t.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all. A long winded NYT article by Daniel Bergner examines current testing being done to determine what women want, or more specifically, what turns them on. Go ahead and read the thing--like I said, it's long. If you'd rather skip the typical right coast hand wringing that goes for writing up there, I'll lay it out for you:

They attached some sensor devices to the naughty bits of both male and female subjects and had them lean back in a nice comfy chair and check out some sex videos. Essentially, the instruments measured swelling in the male member and blood flow to the female joy box. Here's what they found out:

1. Homosexual men are aroused by videos depicting male on male coupling. Shocking.

2. Heterosexual men are aroused by videos depicting male and women coupling along with that good ol' hot lesbian sex action stuff (big surprise here).

3. Lesbian women are aroused by videos depicting lesbian coupling, along with the WNBA.

4. Heterosexual women were aroused sometimes by male/female coupling, sometimes by male/male coupling, sometimes by female/female coupling and occasionally even by ape on ape coupling. Yeah, baby. There's apparently no rhyme or reason or any clue as to why.

At the end of the day, they really have no idea what's going through the minds of women, hetero women to be exact, or what the hell they want outside of lots of shoes and nice lunches with friends. Millions have been spent on this, a study that only confirms what pretty much any guy knows. Which is, a big fat WTF?