seriously, gayer than two guys having sex. or, actually, exactly that gay, from what it sounds like.
not that there’s anything wrong with that in particular. it’s the savage, self-hating hypocrisy that is so spectacularly nauseating, although the i-blame-the-media angle is pretty sweet too.
man. if anyone thinks i’m recommending hunting down and killing, maybe by beating them to death with michael vick’s cast iron goatee, every single person who works for or who is affiliated with in any way the sf dpt, then they would be right. i’m not sure when handing out citations became a pure revenue stream enterprise for the city, as opposed to creating circumstances for safer driving and parking, less congestion… you know, actual civic needs that benefit someone, anyone, besides a city that is currently awash in property tax funds anyway. it’s evil, absurd, venal, and despicable. i think i’m going to start a letter writing campaign, because things have gotten that far out of hand. we can’t even get the residential parking permits that would allow us to park on any of the surrounding streets, since we live on the one (busy) street that doesn’t have residential permitted parking regulations. just because every other street for blocks in every direction does, and there is never any street parking available on this street because people leave their cars in the same spaces for a week at a time, moving only when the street cleaners force them to, doesn’t mean we should be able to park… anywhere, i guess. god forbid someone parks on the 15′+ wide sidewalks in a way that doesn’t block even a 3rd of the throughway, either. especially if you need to unload heavy goods and don’t want to park 2 blocks away down a steep hill for the 20 minutes it will take to unload the vehicle. that, near as i can tell, makes you a degenerate felon in the making, by the city’s rules. the obvious solution is just to double park all the time, blocking traffic and creating a driving hazard, which of course, if you get a ticket at all for that, is a much smaller fine amount. makes perfect sense.
don’t get me started with the stunningly counter-productive and just fucking stupid motorcycle parking laws.
and for god’s sake, don’t speak any, especially if it’s regarding your own total, abject, catastrophic failures that paved the way to evil’s house in the first place. it was bad enough when the screeching punditry insisted en masse that rove is a “genius” for his willingness to be more despicable (and if that means breaking the law, hey, laws are for little people, dummy) in both thought and deed than his opponents. But this, this refusing to acknowledge their own complicity in everything from both presidential elections to the brutally incompetent execution of this lunatic “war on terror” (because if you can’t wage a full scall military action against a base emotion, what good is it being president?) is probably as dishonest, as egregious, as viciously selfish and venal as anything bush and his merry band of criminals and sociopaths have done. if the media didn’t completely roll over and give bush a free pass leading up to the elections in 2000 (”let’s not pick on the dumb guy; it might make us look too “elitist” and turn off viewers and/or readers. besides, it’s been prety quiet for the last several years. what could happen?”), didn’t engage in the most loathesome sort of hysterical anti-journalism for three solid years after the world trade center was brought down in one of the most savage and incomprehensible criminal acts in history, to the point where a funny fake news program host made international headlines by calling out the media… the list goes on. living up to the responsibility that the press must bear for a free and just society to survive, much less prosper, is a great burden, no doubt. but, you know… at least fucking try, for god’s sake.
the scandal isn’t that a ref is betting on games, including games he worked; the scandal is NO ONE COULD TELL. obviously, even if he tried not to, it would be difficult to have something riding on a game you’re involved in and not at least subconsciously make a few more calls (or non-calls) than maybe you would usually, but given the general “quality” of nba officiating, there’s no way anyone could look at any of his games and say “well of course, that’s why there’s a critical call right there that ALL THREE refs missed! that’s why there’s a lunatic and/or “star” call on the next play, with ALL THREE refs looking right at it and no one correcting the call!”
dear whoring-selves-with-hyper-self-righteousness-media,
please. shut the fuck up. the nba isn’t going to suffer any backlash - read again, ZERO response - from the fans over the wildly overblown referee gambling scandal. apparently the only people who thought we lived in some kind of wonderful over the rainbow, oompa-loompa infested fantasy land were sportswriters, the various paid punditry who have an official job description that reads: “bitch about absurd things as if the world is ending tomorrow, and do it better than the other station so people notice and we get paid,” and some overwound league officials. no one else, with the exception of the extremely small minority of sports fans who like to tie their own sense of self-worth to the goings on of millionaire strangers, thought it was impossible, or even particularly unlikely, that human beings would suddenly stop being human because david fucking stern said so. no one else thinks the league needs to attain a completely frigid, flawless, tedious perfection to survive, or succeed. the vast majoirty of us, i would wager (even now), are content to know that they are games, and in the end, if a ref blows a game out of incompetence or good old american venality, why should i care? unless i can make myself feel better about my own pathetically wretched existence by loudly and perpetually declaiming my own moral superiority and the obvious need for punishment, for branding, for excommunicating and expelling all those of lesser stuff, who fall when tempted. Or maybe jump with both feet.
i don’t even blame the refs for this, really. the league needs to leave the game alone for a few years, let the rules settle down a little, and let the refs talk to the players and vice versa without getting all worked up about control issues or respecting the law or whatever the fuck it is that stern thinks he’s accomplishing with his gestapo-light routine for the officials. (”it’s not a matter of fairness, it’s a matter of correctness,” indeed. what kind of degenerate sociopathic lunatic would spout something so ridiculous? about a GAME that is in the end made up of rules to prevent anyone from gaining an unfair advantage and to make the games as enjoyable as possible to watch, no less. it’s like shooting yourself in the foot and complaining that you need a bigger gun. anyway.)
also, joey crawford got rooked. tim duncan is a giant whiny bitch, and he was certainly doing things on the sideline like a petulant 3 year old trying to see what he can get away with (something i’m an expert in at the moment, i can assure you). i’m glad crawford tossed him for it.
today my two year old boy said “i love you.”
then he peed on me.
coincidence? or a precursor to the next decade? i think i know the answer.
i’ve got an idea for a regularly recuring feature… or rather, i did, before mh own fucking invompentance at the keybaird fucked that all up.
Because I’m not a journalist, resonant trumps accurate every time.
–william gibson
seems i’m going to have to get used to using the keyboard again. there was a time when such a thing held a certain amount of novelty, believe it or not. although my primary affection will always lay with the beautiful manual typewriters of old, i still yearn for the simplicity and space age ease of use that came with the mac plus with the extra external floppy drive, which i needed forthe ~300k that word 3.0 used, leaving me most of the disk for my files and gibberings and such.
come here so i can hit you with my cane.
anyway, need to get this typing thing back to where it was. i find that at some point in the past few years i’ve managed to learn to touch type, more or less. i mean, why be picky about the number of fingers actually used to type? the important thing is now i can spit out typos faster than ever before. usually you would have to have received at some point in the past, possibly due to a horrendous crash or an industrial accident involving robots and time travel, some really expensive implants and a good deal of training to be able to generate this high-speed brand of wild incompetence.
so, i’ve got that going for me.
mayhem ruin and destruction. conflagration. lunacy and havoc.
and then for dessert, i’d like the profiterole, please.