BK Says, "Yeah, Baby"

Take a look at this new Burger King ad--we've clearly moved into new dimensions with mainstream food advertising. Now, seven inches really does mean seven inches.

More on Farrah, Less on Jackson

Nice piece: http://www.forbes.com/2009/06/26/farrah-fawcett-michael-jackson-poster-opinions-columnists-tunku-varadarajan.html. I read where her funeral is Tuesday in a Los Angeles cathedral. Fortunately, it won't be the freak show that will be the Jackson service.

Oh, like the author, I had the Farrah poster proudly displayed at 149 Kokernot Hall in a galaxy far away and long ago. It spoke to me pretty much the same way it did for him.

RIP, FF.

Have a Nice Weekend

Go fishing. You might catch something.

Pole Dancing, Part Deux

After reading Mr. Bulba's brilliant and heartwarming stroll - actually more of a dance with some girl named Desiree, fresh off the main stage - down memory lane (which in reality is a sordid little boulevard populated by horny businessmen and besotted frat boys), I couldn't help but think of the business trip I made to New Orleans last week.

It was my first trip back to the Big Sleazy since Hurricane Katrina did her best to wipe clean that cesspool of fun and frivolity. Now, don't get me wrong - I've always loved the place. I mean, great food, good local music, and a continuous live-action guide to the Seven Deadly Sins. What more can you ask for? I couldn't wait to see how things had changed.

Had they changed? Yes and no. The French Quarter still has that godawful smell that thankfully just can't be described. Food was as good, if not better, and I chose some of the newer restaurants. The music was still smokin' - I stumbled into some nondescript bar, paid no cover, and listened to one of the best blues guitarists I had ever seen or heard. The SDS? Oh yeah, and in full view. Hell, I saw more breasts than Russ Meyer. I bumped into more drunks than a German farmboy at his first Oktoberfest. I heard language that made me blush, and that was just the stuff coming from a senior citizens tour bus.

The difference? Strip joints. The French Quarter used to be one of the most decadent places on earth, and did it without the help of "Gentleman's Clubs". Sure, there were a few places to see women prancing about half-nekkid, and some of them were even indoors, but they weren't your garden variety titty-bars. Not like the ones that clog up the quarter now. Seems like every few steps brings you within earshot of another hawker pushing yet another room full of naked girls. What a shame. Fewer blues/jazz clubs, few restaurants, fewer bars, and more places that want to charge you for what you can see on the streets for free.

And for the record, that look them dancers give you? Well, they really mean it when they look at me...

Weekly Standard Parody

Hilarious paroday of Joe Klein of Time Magazine:

http://www.weeklystandard.com/Content/Public/Articles/000/000/016/660zfdhs.asp

Pole Tales

A professor at NYU discusses common themes found in stripper confessionals: http://www.doublex.com/section/arts/my-life-g-string-round-stripper-memoirs. Essentially, these works pretty much fall into a similar format: smart, articulate, educated woman enters the stripping world and sets herself apart from the others while at the same time offering up some lame feminist stuff to stress her kinship in the struggle.

Most folks who have exposure to stripping (either customers or strippers, themselves) will tell you it isn't really that complicated. Women get into stripping for various reasons (money, maybe?) and men derive a sense of enjoyment out of watching them move around with little or no clothes on. Highly technical, I know, but there you have it. The funniest thing about stripping and strip joints is how the customers and the strippers see each other. For the guy, he thinks the chick staring seductively straight at him and thrusting her pelvis in his direction may really, really actually want him--wow, there's a chance that I've still got it working after all, he's thinking. For her, he looks like a giant $20 bill with wandering hands. Nothing more, unless she's doing a little whoring on the side and sees potential in the size of his--wallet.

I haven't been to a strip joint in years. Not that I'm above going, but I do have an irrational fear of being shot and killed in a strip joint and having people say, "Well, old Taras was a pretty good guy and all but he did wind up getting shot in a strip joint. His wife had him buried in Ozona." Maybe I can work on that. Anyway, the last one I was in was outside of Corpus Christi on a fishing trip. Rough crowd in there: mostly roustabouts and other oilfield trash and I thought I might get my ass kicked a few times during the stay. The girls themselves looked terrified and were not highly attractive. During a lull in the action, one indicated her interest in becoming a border patrol agent of all things. Hope she made it.

Wives are typically not fond of their husbands visiting gentleman's clubs. I think most of them probably understand that the dog they married has gone to them before or still goes to them but they don't really want to know about it. The fact is that in most cases, it's probably one of the safest options--he won't really stand any chance of picking up someone like if he was at a bar somewhere. He'll just throw away some money and come home smelling strange and wanting to rub on her. She'll of course throttle the crude advance and everyone will nod off. Maybe he'll be later able to explain that whopping American Express charge to "Executive Enterprises, LLC."

Farrah, 1947-2009

Goodbye, good looking. Wish it would have turned out better for you. But, man, you were something.

Pop Tarts

A pretty funny take on the world of pop lyrics: http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/music/article6457684.ece. I don't know, I'm not sure that anyone listens that intently to rock lyrics. First, there's the comprehension issue--there are great songs I've listened to my whole life that I still have no idea what the guy is screaming/singing about--he's grunting in practically another language. Second, my eyes gloss over at the awfulness of what passes for the artist's message. Mostly, it's his frail outlook on life (see Mandrake, Group Captain) and idiotic interpretation of the world around him. This is captured most intently by the wildly popular group, Green Day, which apparently thinks that Bush and Cheney are still somehow in control and will nuke France before it's all over. I have a lot of their songs on some of my iPod playlists and they're fantastic for working out with. You just have to suspend disbelief and ignore the worst of their lyrics and focus on the beat. Not that hard. Sort of the same when you read something from a source such as the New York Times. Filter the best you can and oftentimes something useful is to be had.

As discussed before, I prefer the rare band like ZZ Top or AC/DC. They understand the human condition and they get what rock and roll is about: women, fast cars, drinking, and sometimes shooting guns. And, they don't give a shit if the Russians love their children, too.

Wills on Buckley

With correct link:

Garry Wills pens a reflective piece on his longtime association with William Buckley, his political oppositehttp://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200907/william-buckley. Some interesting stuff here and gives further insight into Buckley, coming on the heels of Christopher Buckley's book on his mom and dad that is out now. I've always thought that Buckley would have been fun to hang out with. I read a piece once where it talked about how he hosted hellacious parties where he would stock the bar with cases of hard liquor, along with one or two bottles of white wine for the pantywaists attending. He'd invite everyone--conservatives, liberals, bidness men, actors, etc. and then watch them tank up and the sparks fly. Wish I could have made one.

More on the Summer Game

Astros v. Twins: http://www.spikesnstars.com/2009/06/19/astros-at-twins-metrodome-welcomes-the-travelling-horseshit-show/. Uh, I guess I got confused between baseball and beach volleyball. Sorry for the incorrect photo shown here.

Dr. Seuss

Here's an interview with a Seuss biographer: http://www.neh.gov/news/humanities/2009-03/Questions.html. I recognized that Seuss had some definite political leanings but I never thought it an issue while reading his books both as a kid and to my own children. I think that "Green Eggs and Ham" was my favorite--I had it memorized for a couple of years there.

Though they're not very politically correct, my favorites to read to my kids were the B'rer Rabbit stories. Great fun, especially when attempted with dialect which used to delight my children. Wonderful stories, too.

I once got into an argument with one of my children's grade school teachers over a book my daughter brought home regarding Columbus and the negative effect of Europeans on the native population. The pictures were lovely, showing beautiful images of the native population against the jungle backdrop. But, the ones depicting the Europeans showed rat like faces (see Rivera, Diego) with menacing scowls. I pointed out that the photos were stereotyping racial groups, something that the school should avoid. Since this was stereotyping from what they viewed in a reverse standpoint, they just couldn't see what the problem was.

Education is an interesting business.

Gutfeld on the Loose

Some nice rants from Lil' Greg: http://dailygut.com/. I like his show, only if I could stay up that late to watch it. At our house, we seem to be watching those shows about awful housewives from various places. The other night, we had on the finale of the awful women from New Jersey. Lots of yelling and New Jerseyness. Don't think I'll be moving there. Here's a picture of a not-so-awful housewife. I'm guessing she doesn't hang out at Cloth World very much.

1984

Here's an article that discusses whether Orwell's book is still relevant: http://www.reason.com/news/show/134074.html. I think it is, just for the reasons that the author points out--the idea of masking real intentions or truth with diversionary rhetoric. The piece points out that "1984" has been used by both the left and right for their own purposes. When I read it, eons ago, it was then fashionable to ascribe it as a lesson on the threat of fascist or right wing politics. Hardly anyone ever took the trouble to consider when it was written or Orwell's own political leanings to see that his viewpoint was influenced by what was going on in Stalin's Soviet Union. That's what I thought when I read it, but that ran counter to the conventional wisdom of our Yankee teachers charged with properly educating/indoctrinating the ignorant redneck children under their tutelage with a proper world view. Alas, they largely failed as we remained primarily interested in fast cars, girls, shooting guns, and waving rebel flags around a lot. Jim Beam was also popular. What would Orwell have written had he grown up in Texas? Maybe something about the horror of iced tea or wandering into a prickly pear flat. I once fell off a horse directly onto a healthy cactus and it wasn't fun. There's also a cactus that grows primarily in South Texas called a tasajillo or known by some gringos as "Jumping Cactus" because it has a tendency to affix immediately or "jump" onto you if you get even close to it. Orwell wouldn't have liked that shit, either, I can tell you because I once saw a guy wearing shorts fall right into one when we were trying to get out of the way of a falling tower blind on a Llano County ranch that we thought we knew how to bring down. Bad deal all around in that the blind went to pieces and the poor son of a bitch was digging those needle like thorns out of his legs and backside for the rest of the weekend.

Sun Devil Torture

Well, not this young ASU coed, of course. No, I give you the brilliance that is EDSBS: http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/2009/06/16/theres-something-dennis-erickson-wants-to-show-you/#more-10617. Hope you're wearing Depends.

CRAP in Academia

This is the kind of thing that warms my heart: http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn17288-spoof-paper-accepted-by-peerreviewed-journal.html. I know a guy who was involved in what is considered one of the greatest college hoaxes of all time, the famous reversal of the Dr. Rice statue at Rice on the eve of commencement ceremonies. I got the story firsthand around a campfire, but really can't do it justice--only a pointy headed engineering type can really appreciate the subtleties involved. Essentially, the plot was at least two years in the making, and involved a great deal of study, testing, mock ups, and subterfuge--all in order to hoist the very large statue of old man Rice and turn it around so that his bony ass would be pointing at the assembled graduates and faculty. It was pulled off in the wee morning hours, with diversions aimed toward police and security working flawlessly, as well as the huge block and tackle apparatus that was deployed and quickly removed. Great stuff.

I'm pretty sure the young lady pictured here resting between calculus problems is not a Rice prof. It's an educated guess.

Night Ladies

Here's an interesting little piece (get it? get it?) about the encounters of writers with prostitutes and the effects on their careers http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/06/14/RVF91830P3.DTL. Largely (get it?) they were impressed by the young ladies. I've had conversations with people on and off over the years about legalizing the sex trade here. For the most part, the guys seem to be all for it. Maybe that's just bluff--in the end, they'd probably be cowed by their wives into voting against it. I know lots of prostitution stories and one of them points to this. A guy about twenty years older than me played semi-pro baseball in La Grange once and was "introduced" to the Chicken Ranch by Sheriff Jim, himself. The sheriff wanted these out of town boys to limit their business to the working girls, leaving the local talent alone. Apparently, the going rate in the early 1950s was three (3) dollars. My friend said that at that price and while getting paid $200 a month to do nothing but play baseball, he "couldn't afford not to go to the Chicken Ranch at least once a day."

Those were the days.

Time on Your hand(s)?

This guy apparently sets a new standard for married men: http://www.slate.com/id/2220155/. Of course, if he had young Carin here around the house, he probably wouldn't have any need for good ol' Rosie.

The Progress of Man

Turns out, we haven't come that far after all: http://thesmartset.com/article/article05270901.aspx. And, I'm not too worried about it. Right, fellows?

In and Out

Gutfeld pretty much sums up my thoughts on immigration: http://dailygut.com/. Anyone risking life and limb to get here and WORK HARD deserves special consideration for staying. And, those who think life in the dreaded US of A is horrible, should be exchanged back to Ethiopia or Guatemala or whatever hell hole is "better." End of rant. Oh, here's someone happy to be here, enjoying a little beach time. It's obvious from the look on her face.

The Taliban really aren't such bad guys...

This looks to be something from the Onion but it's not.


http://www.brusselsjournal.com/node/3946


In November 2008 a Dutch journalist, Joanie de Rijke, was abducted by Taliban fighters in Afghanistan. She was held captive, raped repeatedly, and released after six days for a ransom of 100,000 euros ($137,000). After her ordeal, she acknowledged that her captors “did horrible things to me,” but added in several media interviews “They also respected me,” and emphasized “They are not monsters.”


Though de Rijke was angry with the Dutch and Belgian authorities, she told the Dutch media in interviews given after her release that she was not angry with her abductors. “I do not want to depict the Taliban as monsters. I am not angry with Ghazi Gul. After all, he let me live,” she said. About the rape ordeal she declared that though the experience had been horrible, she was also shown respect. “It’s not black and white. These things can exist side by side. That doesn’t mean that I’m suffering from Stockholm syndrome.”

See the link for more.

Have a nice weekend

Try to stay cool.

Sometimes it helps to stand in front of the refrigerator.

Claims Drama

Never argue with an insurance company: http://www.yankeepotroast.org/archives/2009/06/wallace_stevens.html.

More on Sotomayor.

According to the leftist pinkos at Mother Jones, Sotomayor is a lousy writer: http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2009/06/sonia-sotomayors-prose-problem. She allegedly came close to flunking a writing course at Princeton and her opinions on cases appear to be without wit or much else in the way of effective expression. In other words, she ain't no Scalia. That said, the fact that she is a woman and a Latina far outweigh any piddling concerns such as these.

My big problem with Sotomayor is that she is a little rough to look at, unlike Amanda Klaasen. Ms. Klaasen is no doubt a solid writer with a deft stroke.

The Foundation of Any Good Meal...

...is, of course, lard: http://www.slate.com/id/2219314/. Even the pinko surrender monkeys at Slate get it. Now, the great enlightened of our society have pronounced lard as, indeed, healthy and you can even buy chic designer lard in New York. Personally, I don't give a shit--I like lard, I love lard, I revel in lard regardless of whatever Harold in Soho or Eleanor in the Hamptons thinks.

My deceased Aunt Sybil kept a bucket--yes, a bucket of lard in her kitchen and cranked out massively righteous pork chops and biscuits using heaps of the stuff. Damn fine eating. Her father, my grandfather used to enjoy pouring the contents of the skillet grease on top of his fried eggs, bacon, and biscuits--God, it was outstanding--more grease to top off the lard! You just can't get that kind of wonderfulness anymore. Now, I'm reduced to eating yogurt in the morning and chicken breasts and salmon and that kind of shit. Damn it, I'm just about finished as a man. Once in a while though, I jump the reservation for some real eating. And when I do, I always think about Aunt Sybil's lard bucket.

Tennis News

Mr. (Mrs.?) Hsu thinks we need more awful parents in tennis for America to take more grand slam titles: http://www.slate.com/id/2219229/.

Both of my kids played academy level tennis at one point, the eldest being pretty good before burning out. The whole tennis scene was kind of eye opening for me--we didn't do tennis where I grew up, concentrating instead on baseball, football, and vandalism. What amazed me most about tennis was the amount of cheating that goes on--it's widespread and part of the sport's amateur fabric. Certain kids are infamous as cheaters, making subtle and sometimes flagrant line calls (players mostly do their own calls in amateur matches) and even changing scores mid-game. Some awful parents, too, but you can see that in pretty much any sport. I disliked the tournament scene, too. Endless days spent in oftentimes crappy locales in miserable weather before going back to the crappy hotel and then the crappy drive back on Sunday, without feeling that anyone had all that much fun. Essentially, a lot of crap. Maybe it was just us but I don't think so.

Krauthammer on Sotomayor

I posted something last week about Sotomayor and the ruling she participated in regarding the New Jersey firefighters. Now, Krauthammer expands on it: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/05/28/AR2009052803613.html. Krauthammer possesses one of the ablest minds out there. It's almost as impressive to watch him speak on subjects as it is to read him--he's razor sharp and never lacks coherent views.