The Onion on Obama Victory

The Onion on Obama Victory: Nation Finally Shitty Enough To Make Social Progress

Carrying a majority of the popular vote, Obama did especially well among women and young voters, who polls showed were particularly sensitive to the current climate of everything being fucked. Another contributing factor to Obama’s victory, political experts said, may have been the growing number of Americans who, faced with the complete collapse of their country, were at last able to abandon their preconceptions and cast their vote for a progressive African-American.

“Obama had the foresight to run for president at a time when being an African-American was not as important to Americans as, say, the ability to clothe and feed their children,” Pung continued. “An election like this only comes once, maybe twice, in a lifetime.”

As we enter a new era of equality for all people, the election of Barack Obama will decidedly be a milestone in U.S. history, undeniable proof that Americans, when pushed to the very brink, are willing to look past outward appearances and judge a person by the quality of his character and strength of his record. So as long as that person is not a woman.

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Barack Obama on saggy pants

In an MTV interview – Obama tells you to pull up your pants. He does it more politely than I do to teenagers in target.

Sway: Our next question comes from Eric out of Huntington Beach, California: “There are numerous cultures and subcultures in the United States today. Powers-that-be set statutes with monetary penalty on how people wear their clothes. Do you find it intrusive on civil liberties to create such ordinances?” And you know I got ‘locks.

Obama: I wasn’t going to pass a law, man. You look tight.

Sway: I know people have piercings, tattoos. Eric, in particular, is talking about a ban on sagging pants. Do feel like people should be penalized?

Obama: Here is my attitude: I think people passing a law against people wearing sagging pants is a waste of time. We should be focused on creating jobs, improving our schools, health care, dealing with the war in Iraq, and anybody, any public official, that is worrying about sagging pants probably needs to spend some time focusing on real problems out there. Having said that, brothers should pull up their pants. You are walking by your mother, your grandmother, your underwear is showing. What’s wrong with that? Come on. There are some issues that we face, that you don’t have to pass a law, but that doesn’t mean folks can’t have some sense and some respect for other people and, you know, some people might not want to see your underwear — I’m one of them.

Sway: In regards to piercings, tattoos, I had a friend who worked for UPS and he had ‘locks. He almost lost his job, but he fought for it. In regards to those things, how do you feel?

Obama: It’s one thing if an employer discriminates on the basis of gender or sexual orientation or, obviously, race or ethnicity. I think employers can set standards. Now you got ‘locks, but it looks clean, man, it’s tight, and my little girl has twists, Malia, and to me, it looks great. Obviously I would be upset if she were discriminated against on that basis. On the other hand, if you are working at a fancy store and you show up to work in jeans and a shirt and you have a tattoo across your neck like Mike Tyson, for them to say, you know, “That is not the kind of image we are trying to project,” obviously, that is in their rights as well. I think any business has the right to say, “This is the kind of tone we want to set,” as long as they aren’t discriminating on the basis of things people can’t control.

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David Sedaris on Undecided Voters

From this week’s New Yorker:

Then you’ll see this man or woman– someone, I always think, who looks very happy to be on TV. “Well, Charlie,” they say, “I’ve gone back and forth on the issues and whatnot, but I just can’t seem to make up my mind!” Some insist that there’s very little difference between candidate A and candidate B. Others claim that they’re with A on defense and health care but are leaning toward B when it comes to the economy.

I look at these people and can’t quite believe that they exist. Are they professional actors? I wonder. Or are they simply laymen who want a lot of attention?

To put them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”

To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked.

I mean, really, what’s to be confused about?

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Pet Diaries

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Courtesy our friend Veronica.

Excerpts from a Dog’s Diary

8:00 am – Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am – A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm – Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm – Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm – Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm – Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm – Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm – Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Excerpts from a Cat’s Daily Diary

Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made con descending comments about what a ‘good little hunter’ I am. Bastards.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of ‘allergies.’ I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow — but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now…

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Funny Error in Time News Story

A bit of a slip up in a Times Magazine article on Bush & Cheney skipping the Republican National Convention:

President Bush, Vice President Cheney and prominent governors decided on Sunday to skip the Republican National Convention, and the party considered shortening its big four-day event as Hurricane Gustav approached the Gulf Coast with potentially devastating strength.

The convention, a marquee event meant to send presidential candidate Dick Cheney into the fall campaign with a burst of energy and good feeling, already was becoming overwhelmed by alarming news of the hurricane just three years after deadly Katrina struck New Orleans.

Ha! Presidential candidate Dick Cheney. Time can’t tell them apart, either. Screen cap, because that will surely change:

Freudian Slip
Freudian Slip
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Giant Inflatable Dog Crap Escapes Moorings, Wreaks Havoc

I shit you not — Paul McCartney American Artist Paul McCarthy created, for an art exhibit called “East of Eden: A Garden Show” at the Paul Klee Art Center in Switzerland, a giant inflatable dog shit balloon. On July 31, it was the victim of high winds and blew several hundred meters, damaging power lines and windows, before landing on the grounds of a children’s home.

McCarthy Shit Installation
McCartey Shit Installation

I’m putting this post in the category of Culture, but I don’t really mean it.

Seriously, though – I want to be as rich as Paul McCartney, so I can create GIANT INFLATABLE DOG SHIT for people’s garden shows. Because that is clearly a man who can say fuck you to the whole world.

Lisa kindly informs me that it wasn’t rocker Paul McCartney, but rather American Artist Paul McCarthy, who created the giant dog pile. Damn. That really takes a lot of the fun out of it right there.

Wait. No, it’s still really fun.

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Indiana political blogging

Sometimes it’s really entertaining

for all the

wrong [link deprecated: http://www.blueindiana.net/showDiary.do;jsessionid=38F64BC3DD2AF56DA297D48ACAA576E0?diaryId=2332] reasons.

2019 Update: Lest it be lost to the ethereal ravages of time, this was the subject of the above posts.

From: gwelsh@indy.rr.com
Subject: Tyrion
Date: April 9, 2008 4:55:22 PM GMT-04:00
To: bil@bilerico.com

It’s quite interesting that you, of all people, would allow the anonymous postings of one Tyrion who has at times called me “crazy”, “bipolar”, a “liar”, “going over the edge”, “lost it”, and “left my brain in Charleston”, among other things, and who has falsely and with defamatory intent accused me of professional misconduct as an attorney. Obviously, you know the identity of this person. You can graciously identify the name of this person, or you can be named as a defendant in a lawsuit and be served with a subpoena commanding you to reveal his identity. Take your pick. If this guy wants to make it his hobby to professionally trash me on anonymous blog postings, then he can suffer the consequences of defending his actions in court. And if you want to serve as his enabler, you can suffer the consequences as well.

As far as I know, no lawsuits were ever filed.

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Design is Dead says Phillippe Starck

The hilarity of this recent news item is only enhanced by my having just finished watching the movie Art School Confidential mere moments before I read it:

BERLIN (AFP) — Renowned French designer Philippe Starck says he is fed up with his job and plans to retire in two years, in an interview published in a German weekly on Thursday.

“I was a producer of materiality and I am ashamed of this fact,” Starck told Die Zeit weekly newspaper… Everything I designed was unnecessary… I will definitely give up in two years’ time. I want to do something else, but I don’t know what yet. I want to find a new way of expressing myself …design is a dreadful form of expression.”

Starck, who is known for his interior design of hotels and Eurostar trains and mass consumption objects ranging from chairs to tooth brushes and lemon juice squeezers, went on to say that he believed that design on the whole was dead.

“In future there will be no more designers. The designers of the future will be the personal coach, the gym trainer, the diet consultant,” he said.

Starck said the only objects that he still felt attached to were “a pillow perhaps and a good mattress.” But the thing one needs most, he added, was the “ability to love”.

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Christmas lawn decor

There are a couple of photos I’d like to take this year that I’ve missed in past holiday seasons. The first is of a nativity scene at a church somewhere on the north side of Indianapolis. I’ve driven past several years in a row, and noted that the way the scene is set, the three wise men are leading their camels towards the stable… from the west. That really shouldn’t bother me – it’s all fiction anyway – but it does. I guess if you’re going to take your happy god book literally, you should pay attention to detail.

The second photo I want to capture is another nativity scene. This one is located somewhere on the path between my dad’s old house and his country club where we used to go to Sunday Christmas brunch. One of the houses has a cute little stable scene in their front yard. But they seem to be lacking a manger, because baby Jesus is nestled in all snuggly… in the bird bath. You know – no bed, substitute manger. No manger? Substitute bird bath. It works.

Here’s a picture I took of a rather gaudily decorated lawn on Rangeline Road, south of 96th Street. I had to splice together three pictures to get it all in.

Like Santa Barfed on Their Lawn
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