An Asinine Atrocious Absurdity of AA/PC

This Manifesto, so popular among pipsqueak intellectuals, is a call against the cultural bacteria known as Affirmative Action and Politcal Correctness, which stand as an oxymoron on the human spirit.

Too many people, of light minds and heavy spineless and bankrupt opinions, have a disproportiante say on what is said and how it is said in our lives. They are attacking and changing our lexicon before our eyes - our thoughts. Interestingly, many enjoy sounding smart by invoking quotes from '1984' to prove that if we don't follow their methods and ways a world not far off from Orwell's character O'Neil will arise. Yet, it is they who are creating this insidious world led by their depraved idiocy.

We are indeed mindless cattle seeking niche identities. We are the servants of the powerful industry with special interest and all its off-shoots - intellectual crooks, petty politicans seeking a moment in the sun and academics that have abandoned their sense of balance - and we are being led straight into an abyss of nothingness.

So it is with this, this sad state of affairs where mindless creeps roam the halls of powers like dead dinosaurs and zombies, I defend myself annd my bretheren:

Gentleman lowers head, removes stylish cap and holds the door for an appealing lady - who he would squirt upon: "Hello, ma'am."

Lady looks back in shock with look of haughty disgust: "I am not a ma'am. I am a lady, sonny boy. Who do you work for? I am going to report you."

Gentleman nervously: "Um, well..."

Lady staring and glaring into his eyes knowing full well she holds all the power: "Well? And where do you come off holding the door for me? Is it because I am a lady? Methinks you think that we ladies are too weak to hold the door for ourselves?"

Gentleman: "No, no. It's not that at all. My mother always taught me to treat a ma'am, er, lady with honor and respect."

Lady: "Your momma did not teach you right, son."

While gentleman is left to scratch his head another woman jumps in and addresses the person of her gender with similar pubic hair. "I could not help but overhear this enlightened conversation. We women need to stick together. However, I do take issue with one thing. You are not a lady but a woman."

Lady with odd logic asserts: "I am most certainly not a woman! Is a Chinese a Chink? No, he is a Chinaman! Just as an I-talian is not a wop but a person of Roman ancestory. Roman-Americans! A black man is named so because of Occidental and accidental white trash scum. He is an African-American! I am a lady."

Gentleman: "Er, I happen to be of Italian heritage, I don't think..."

Woman interrupts: "Woman!"

Lady: "Lady!"

Gentleman interjects and looks at both of them, adjusts his cap and proclaims: "Ah, woman, lady, ma'am. You both aint's nothing but a couple of cunts."

They stand still for a few seconds, with soulless blank stares, and continue.

Lady:"What changes are we going to demand today? We have to rid ourselves of these barbarians that live among us."

Woman: "Yes, we do. Ever notice how no one holds the door for us anymore?"

Lady: "Not with the right intentions anyway. Sigh, could you believe it's been one year since a man asked me out? Creeps they all are."

Woman lights a cigarette. "You said it. They don't make men like Johnny Unitas and Bobby Hull anymore."

Lady: "Sinatra and Bennett."

Woman: "Retards they all are."

Lady: "Don't you mean mentally challenged."

Woman: "Is that what they are calling it now? I can no loner keep track."

Lady sighs and blows the top of her bangs away from her eyes: "What have we done?"

The Damn Womanification of Man

I am concerned. If you are a man and reading this you should be too. In fact, you may be the very man I am about to scold and rip apart.

I am seeing too many things that insult my - our - manhood. We have been taught and conditioned, since the rise of feminism, to forego our male behaviors - mannerisms that took centuries to perfect, I might add - all to please some impractical and humourless ideal.

Men have not only lost their minds - this took place long ago - but their back bone too. Men are the limp recipe for jell-O. I'm not suggesting we carry a club around like we used to, but seize the belt once in a while for crying out loud. Adjust those pants. Wear them fine stitches proudly, for the love of sugary Jesus. More often than not, I find myself observing men - friends or strangers - and wanting to slap them hard - and I mean scandously hard - off the side of the head. Straighten your back, lift those slouched shoulders and stop holding all those bags like you're some cowardly servant.

To some, these are examples of a good family man. It's not. It's an example of a man who would not know how to use a power saw or baseball bat if it was put in his hands.

Wealthy men today get their hands manicured. They get body waxes. They often present themselves as cookie cutters churned out by a trendy fashion.

All this to attract a girl. Fair enough. Men, however, have no dignity when it comes to courting women. At some point, a man has to stand up and be counted and say "what's this girl worth to me?"

Men are saps. Just look at the movies. Our concept of the man is so refined and watered down it's pathetic. Hard drinking, suave, cigarette smoking crooners are a dead breed. Worse, we have the curious combo of the modern girlie man trying to sometimes act lie Bogart, Cagney, Martin or Sinatra. Heck, even Gene Kelly, with that defined scar, prancing was cooler than the smoked hams we see today. Try and find a defect on a contemporary Hollywood actor. Sexiest man, whomever it may be, alive my ass. I'm still waiting for a wannabe crooner or Rat Pack emulator to walk out on stage with a granola bar and sandals.

Whenever a person bucks the trend, there's a collective hush among the politically correct buffoons. When presented with a man being a man we curl up like a bunch of sensitive pseudo-intellectuals and moralists.

The level of irritability rises exponentially whenever I hear men say weak-kneed things like, "I can't. My wife won't let me" or "I don't make the financial decisions. My wife does" or 'I have to get off the phone now because Nagarella wants me to stare at her." My wife says this and says that. My wife doesn't want, my wife wants. Please.

Once upon a time certain aspects of family life were the strict domain of the man. Roles were clearly defined. Just like an efficient business. Now, men - and it's pretty safe to say they are no longer men - are putzed around on a leash.

I hope my wife and mother are not reading this. No. No, I hope they do. Even I find it hard to escape the rampant womanification of man.

Current Affairs: Pop Culture

-In the toy department today I came across a product that was repulsive, repugnant and regressive all rolled into one burrito. It reminded me of Lisa Simpson's crusade against Malibu Stacy's corruption of girls everywhere. Everything she worked for pretty much failed in the cartoon and it proved prescient even for reality. The toy was called 'Bratz'. Never mind, for a moment, that the name already lends some insights into the mindset of the modern child. It was the way these dolls were presented. Scantily clothed, they looked like tramps. The could just as easily called it Little Hookers or Baby Whores. Here were tiny little girls dressed like Britney Spears - which isn't saying much both on a fashion and quantity sense. "Mommy, I want to look like a ho like Paris Hilton." "Oh honey, our little girl has ambition!" "Shut up and give me mo money, suckers. I want to make porn." Any parent buying this junk for their girls is not doing their job. "I don't know where she went wrong" will be their defense.

-The NBA is legislating a dress code. I have no idea what's motivating the NBA to do so. Perhaps I'm the last guy to comment as I have always been a proponent of uniforms and dress codes. Organizational standards are crucial for not only the success of a company but the well-being of its workers. Athletes today have been fed to believe they are invincible on every level. They consider themselves on the level of owners. True, there is no money without the stars but equally true there is no league without owners taking the risk.

Not surprisingly its players are lashing out. In a league that thrives on self-absorption, self-entitlement and meism, we can't expect millionaire athletes to readily govern themselves appropriately.

The NBA is indeed a different sports culture than any other league but at what point does the athlete cease being unique and crosses the line of being decadent in their excessive search for uniqueness? The NBA has to respect the cultural background of its players. On the flip side, the players have to recognize this isn't the 'hood' either. The usual 'it's about my right to express myself as I choose' angle will be spewed but the bottom line is that the NBA is the boss. Anyone turning this into a race issue has to be reminded that as long as you GET A PAY CHECK from someone else you don't exist. That's just the way it goes. I was #2345 at my job for years. Sure I wanted to 'express' myself but I instinctively knew my limits. Whipping out 'ol Jasper during a meeting wouldn't have been a good idea come to think of it.

Anyhow, the NBA suffers from an image problem. It has become the breeding ground for Thugs 'We' Us. Basketball players, some of them, have to leave behind the street mentality and treat with respect that they have entered a more serious realm. They belong to a professional league and they earn a fabulous wage - no one is robbing them of their uniqueness. Their still going to use the cell phones during practice and cut bad rap CD's.

The NBA is asking that on their time and clock they act like true PROFESSIONALS. The again, it's a double edged sword. Tim Duncan, the model athlete, is considered too 'boring'. Marketing the NBA is a tricky thing. They not only want to be treated with respect and like businessmen but they also want to act like irresponsible children too.

It's about time the NBA does this. I remember, on a side note, when a bank I worked for, falling into the 'new paradigm dress code' pushed by the tech industry during the bubble, agreed to allow a casual Friday dress code. The very first Friday people came in looking like either they were going camping or out to start an escort service. The experiment did not last long and of course everyone complained - including, which freaked me out, the guy who were shorts to work.

-I witnessed a person make a call in a movie theatre the other day. Hey, look at the dolls I mentioned off the top. Look at modern NBA players. Everyone is just too important. Civil respect is a concept that went out when everyone stopped saying 'thank you' when a door is held for them or when people stopped letting the people coming out of the elevators first or when people actually used their turn signals. All dead arts. I see a connection between this and the loss of the universal principle.

-In the wake of the devastating earthquake in Pakistan, that country is refusing aid from Israel. Even in time of dire need, their backwardness remains in tact. I've said once and I will say it again, the imperfect Jews are the only rational players in that whole region. It was all a Jewish plot by the way.

-A Manifesto was issued in Quebec by former esteemed politicians and thinkers warning about this Province's path to destruction. No really? Tell us something we weren't aware of. All this is amusing of course, when they were in power they turned a blind eye to this. I think they knew what they were up against. Who is leading this? The one man who would have taken Quebec into oblivion by cracking Canada. More on this on a separate blog.

-Speaking of intellectualism, Foreign Policy magazine asked its readers to rank today's most important intellectuals and thinkers. Noam Chomsky topped the list. Naomi Klien - I still don't get it - also made the list. Which leads me to ask - Who are FPs target market? Who make up their readership? Chomsky and Klein. So railing against something and yearning for a "simpler" time passes as "intellectual" now? A paranoid genius and a ranting socialist made the list. I'm surprised Bobby Fisher didn't make the list.

-I have not been able to get the tune of 'Diff'rent Strokes' out of my head for a few days now. Which got me thinking. If television influences, why did the wholesome message of the show fail half of the cast? This suggests to me TV has its limits. It all begins with the family folks. The family.

-Today, there are imply is too many cereals to choose from. Like Law and Order and CSI, the cereal industry too has several variations of their product. How many Cheerio's are there now? 23? Feeling daring, I usually am as I'm not exactly price conscience, I bought into this 'what the Ancients used to eat' cereal. It had things like spelt and kamut in it.

The first thing I said to myself on my first bite "Hmm, that's strange. I didn't realize that the fucking Mayans, Aztecs and Incan's ate Sugar Crisp." I hate Sugar Crisp - By far, to me anyway, the worst cereal ever invented next to that atrocity Honeycombs. Count Chocula and Boo-Berry were bad but they were fun bad. With all this health revolution crap (low carb is such a crock. 57 million Italians with a culinary heritage and sophisticated diet can't be wrong. Can it be they simply know how to eat a healthy and balanced meal while we exaggerate giving into all our excessive pleasures?) we've taken the fun out of everything. I bought Ricotta and what do I read? 50% less fat! Hell, I need the fat to make a real rigatoni al forno ! Take care of your own families you nannies!

Articles of Interest: Politics: Iraq

factcheck.org/article349.html

Two wrongs don't make a right. Of the two sides, who committed the bigger offense on truth?

The Dilapidated Detachment of Disaffection

'We're fed up Arnold and we're not going to take it!" Everyone is taking to the streets these days. You have a problem? Great, no need to look in the mirror. Just sign a petition, they're everywhere now, and join a march! We have a whole selection of petitions, causes and marches for you to choose from. Wine collectors would be envious at what we have accumulated since Bush came to office. It's both impressive and substantive.

I've just about had it with the protest phenomena. Call me a censor, a zealot or a repressive communist. I don't care. I'm hardly one would call an extremist on any issue.

The protest industry has become so routine and absurd that one has to wonder about the credibility of the people who partake in these things. Do they really care about the state of man? Their country? What's truly, when we go to the core, their motive? Forget government and their interests. I want to know just how pure and just are these modern 'dissidents.'

Judging by their rhetoric and the 'facts' they use, one can assume they are not intellectually honest. Not when there are perfectly viable explanations for all the questions they ask. They just choose to ignore it.

Many make money off their efforts. There's nothing more offensive than listening to a Madison Ave. or New York Penthouse activist journalist. The system is fine when the check comes in for them. But what about that woman in Malaysia? "Halt the sewing machines! They are being exploited!" they cry. Yet, no one ever bothered to ask the little Malaysian what she thought. "Who are all these people defending me? I didn't know I needed defending. I just want to go buy medicine for my child and go home."

To me, outfits like Moveon.org, are not examples of a vibrant and functioning democracy. Democracy is indeed under attack but not for the reasons they scream about. Ironically, it's their behavior that's threatening democracy. Special interest is threatening democracy. Unchecked corporate power undermines democracy. They think they speak for the Constitution but I am sure the tactics they use would meet with disapproval from the real men of genius of 1776.

Instead, it stinks of bored unemployed activists and wealthy socialists who simply have misappropriated facts to fit their narrow and short sighted world view. It's not about Bush but about how depraved we've become in our collective ignorance.

Every time I read some press release from activists, or listen to various blogs on speed write as though they are right, I am reminded that history is a dead art. That critical thinking has been hijacked by a perverse form of cynical nihilism that passes as critical thinking. What the two Bush terms have shown me is how remarkably low our intellectual standards have become. No, I don't mean with Bush himself, but with the anti-Bush crowd itself. America is dividing itself and the world, like vultures, is waiting to pick up the pieces left behind.

They say that the key to Middle-East succeeding is to give a voice to the moderates. It's become clear the same has to apply to America. Americans, the quiet ones who do not pound their fists on the pavement smashing windows for a just cause, need to take back their democracy. Their country.

It's fine to debate things but at some point if people can't use an honest and objective approach the truth we seek will always prove elusive.

Say it Horshack, "we're fed up Arnold and we're not gonna take it!"

Max, Max, Max - Tsk, tsk, Unemployed

So I head back to the counter of the watch department to get an explanation for a perceived mistake. In my rudimentary and infantile mathematical abilities and capabilities, I was sure and convinced that the bizarre sales lady who spoke French with a thick Gaspienne accent, had made an error typical of a region with 22% unemployment. Each time she spoke I had to look up and stare at her shabby formless lips to get a snapshot of what she was saying. Indeed, with her borderline imitation of a fallen Gaelic language, she was barely discernable. She annoyed and irritated me. Alas, 35% off Timex jogging watches is a rare sighting in these parts.

Her sale technique was new and was something I never quite encountered before. In French, she began with an aloof proclomation that she had shish-taouk for lunch and asked - and I translate - "Do I 'ave bad bret?" In my head I mutter 'What the fuck is this about?" I answer "Non." "De garlic can be bad on de bret" she continues. To which I calmly recite to myself "Ok, like this is not gross. I'm supposed to picture you naked next to all these watches and here you are babbling about garlic sesame spread in a Leb sandwich?" The giggling and chuckling you hear was all in my head. "Whoa! Penetration by a Casio!" Anyway, her next irreverant tactic was to point out that she knew nothing of how the functions worked. It was fine with me as I'm not retarded like she clearly was and was perfectly capable in figuring out. Besides, these suckers come with a manual. What does she do? She decides to fiddle around, laughing like a complete cunt, with the monitor. Pressing 'chrono', 'recall' and 'setting' as if it was a dang game. I wanted to tell her "Don't do that to my watch you...Stop that befor I slap you hard off the side of your cratered face!" Anyhow, she punched up the bill, I paid and left.

Which brings to the next prize. When I returned to ensure that there was no mistake another 'woman' was at the counter. The previous one was probably spreading her tits with hummus in the back no doubt. It took a few seconds for my eyes to focus but when they did I was in a Reveen-like trance. I was being served by the Bearded Lady! As she was explaining away, I wondered "What the frick is the hiring policy in this place? Who does the the interviewing? Doug Henning? Do they post them in train stations, fourth rate strip joints (the kind where you are greeted with on tooth. Been there I have) and the circus?" The whole time I could not get my eyes off her face. She literally had a beard. Like my father beard. Grey whiskers were pertruding out of her tiny face like awkward thorns stick out of a dead yellow rose. In fact, I called her Grey Whiskers and understood nothing of what she explained to me. "Why, that clears things up. Thanks." I said. "You're welcome." she replied. "Now go join your colleague at the freak show in the back" I said nodding my head in amazament. Only she was, as if I should be surprised since she was a Werewolf, long gone by then.

Insert 'Werewolves of London' by Warren Zevon here.

Just a quick word on weatherpeople. What is the purpose and fascination with a weather report during the newscast? Don't people know that they are not climatologists but apologists for the weather industry who never get the forecasts right? Worse, having to listen to local yo-yo anchorpeople quip with pseudo-humor about how it's the 'weatherman's fault' always fucking reduces me to talking jibberish to myself while I stroke my monkey. Stroke my monkey, Frolov and Gonchar!

The weatherman, it must be said here and now, is a cardboard image. "There's a slight disturbance forming over South Central Quebec this evening and this may lead to more precipitation in the early morning giving way to light fog and heavy heavy by mid-morning in which grey clouds will move in and out all day with some sunny breaks and light wind moving gingerly East at a speed of 10km/hour leading some trees to sway gently under a sunset that will bring temperature down to below averages for this time of year. Wear a sweater, Bob! Over to you!" "Sure, will Todd. Will need one while I bum fuck you in nothing but your rubber boots in the forest under the enchanted stars as you howl like a fucking crazed hungry wolf and delusional deranged nympho! Good night everyone!"

Signing out with the usual 'Hardee-har-har.'