Dumbassery, Warrantless Spying, And DUI

Yes, the mistake in Vietnam was caving in to liberal pussies and leaving. No, dumbass. The mistake was showing the hell up. The second mistake was not leaving sooner. The third mistake was massacres. The fourth mistake was blaming the liberals. Not like anyone’s going to remember the lessons of history. Even the people now admitting they were wrong are saying they were wrong for all the right reasons.

Bullshit. You were wrong. You should have known. I told you so. I fucking told you so, and you didn’t listen to me. Just admit it: Bush rushed in like the fool he is, and you cheered him on, dumbass.

And now look where we’ve gotten the Republic. We’re in a place where all evidence in a case is too secret to be used in court. In other words, government crimes are classified. If the NSA does it, that means it’s legal.

Not that it’s going to help us to know that now. It’s sort of like the secret list of buildings you’re not allowed to photograph. Take a picture and you’re under arrest. Ignorance of the law is no excuse. In fact, ignorance of the law is the law. Which ones did you want me not to photograph? Can’t tell you. Talk about news you can’t use.

News you can use: Driving a golf cart while drunk is still DUI, at least in Stockholm. At least he wasn’t taking pictures of Swedish army bases while doing it.

Candy-colored tangerine-flake streamline dwarf penis injury

Flynn sent me to the Alsacorp home page. They’re a company that makes freaky metallic finishes and shiny paint for just about anything. The showcase of candy-colored paint jobs is amazing, although I feel bad for whoever misspelled “adrenaline” on their custom-painted Ducati.

Also, at the Fringe Festival, a dwarf got his penis caught in a vacuum cleaner.

At Least They’re Now Denying It

Family Security Matters, which, according to SourceWatch, is actually run by the Center For Security Policy, has pulled an embarrassing article from their website.

What does it say? That Bush should be president for life, that we should have nuked Iraq, that democracy is the enemy of greatness, that kind of thing. Typical right-wing craziness, really, although perhaps a little less subtle than usual. Still, it didn’t strike me as anything Michelle Malkin wouldn’t agree with. On the other hand, it also sounded like a parody, or something written by a disgruntled intern bent on embarrassing them, or something you might see in The Onion. It’s hard to tell. After all, the acronym FSM is oddly familiar. But on the other hand, maybe it’s just the same old “blame-America-first attitude I see in the right wing so much these days. I just don’t know.

Regardless, the article has disappeared from the Family Security website. Google cached versions of the page are making the rounds of the usual political websites.

Friday! Random Crap On The Internet!

TSG has the complete text of the new Barry Bonds lawsuit, alleging psychic damage, dog theft, and a conspiracy involving selling steroids to nuns. (Serious angle: the man filing the suit is already in prison, but should probably be in a mental institution instead. The incarceration nation rolls on.)

The Onion talks about a 2nd-grade production of “Equus.” Pretty good. Not as funny as the Girls Gone Wilde bit from Cat & Girl, though.

The NYT pans High School Musical 2 with much hilarity. In a particularly classy touch, they mock the fake-tanned actors while alluding to Olivier. See also Zac Efron, Please Stop Tanning, a blog dedicated to the tween heart-throb and his growing addiction to tanning.

This video of a Japanese waterpark is going around like mono.

Everybody Loves Tweaker Girl

From Salon’s review of two books on meth:

Each era gets the drug it deserves — or seems to, after the fact, when viewed through the smeary lens of pop history. Hence Coleridge and the other 18th century Romantics with their laudanum visions; Rimbaud and Verlaine sipping absinthe in 19th century Paris; the acid-tinged 1960s; coke-amped 1980s and the 1990s’ sunken-eyed, vampiric heroin chic.

Methamphetamine, a drug that embodies a Platonic ideal of paranoia, perfectly suits out national mood, when sleep-deprived employees are afraid to get off the treadmill of work for fear they’ll fall even deeper into debt, and sexual titillation seems both omnipresent and joyless. The erotic vampires who populated pop culture in the late 1990s and early naughts have given way to zombies stumbling or wanking or fucking their way through the detritus of the early 21st century in recent films like “28 Days Later” and “Shaun of the Dead.”

I’m not sure I agree, but I’m having a hard time articulating why.