New York

It's Charles "Mutha Fuckin'" Dickens's Birthday Yo!

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Happy goddamn 200th birthday Charles D., you ornery quill pen scribblin’ literary pimp. You’re lookin’ pretty good for being a couple Benjamins old, what’s your secret? Bikram yoga? Damn, that’s pretty badass Chuck. You don’t mind if I call you Chuck do ya? I tried that hot yoga shit once and damn near pulled my hammy while runnin’ everyone out of the room with my night before drinking and Del Taco gas, shit, I was blowin’ the tile off the walls that day. Luckily it was a free class, but hells no, I ain’t goin’ back to that sweaty ass shit ever again, so props to you grampa, keep it up.

Don't call it a comeback ... he's been here for years
Hey check this shit out, I think you need to put out a sequel to Tale of Two Cities, but this time you have it set in New York and L.A., you still deal with the major themes of duality and revolution but you concentrate on the East Coast vs. West Coast hip hop scene in the 90’s. Now to tie that shit together with the first book, you can still start it off with “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”, because that shit is still relevant to this story, know what I’m sayin’? Yeah! And when you put the screenplay together let me play the part of 2Pac, but a white version of him, you know, just to mix that shit all up so it’s all wackity wack, and don’t even get me started on what I’ve been thinkin’ about for the new A Christmas Carol, if we do it right, it’ll be all Avatar up in that beotch. So hit me up later on that.

Ok LISTEN UP EVERYONE!! It’s C-Dick’s birthday bitches, so raise yo 40 in the air and let’s toast to the great great great grandfather of the written word, before typewriters and before computers, and in his own words … “There is nothing so strong or safe in an emergency of life as the simple truth”, well, don’t tell that shit to my Uncle JoJo in cell block 6, and don’t forget to pour some out for your homeys. Happy Birthday C !!

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Anarchgay in the USA

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Every time a gay thinks about marrying, God gets punched in the taint by the Devil and a kitten sucks a dick.

Footballman Tyree, famous for holding ball to his head doesn't want two men to legally do same under God.
Footballman Tyree, famous for holding ball to his head doesn't want two men to legally do same under God.

A same-sex marriage bill is currently working its way through the New York state legislature which can only mean one thing, Jesus is warming up his wave machine while solemnly shaking his head in disappointment with us all. How do I know this? Because the Wide Receiver of the Apocalypse has deliver unto us our one and only warning.

You see, in a video released Wednesday by the National Organization for Marriage, former super bowling footballist David Tyree pleads for our continued discrimination against a people solely because we think the way they touch parts is icky, not just because God says so, but because God says so and, you know, for the children.

“You can’t teach something that you don’t have,” Tyree said in the video. “So two men will never be able to teach a woman how to be a woman.”

To say the statement by this ball hugging man in tight, tight knee pants is ignorant on the surface of it would be a disservice to the additional ignorance below the surface. The obvious implication here not only slights the ability of same-sex couples to raise a child, which as I’ve chronicled recently is nigh biologically impossible, but it also automatically implies that single parents raising a child of the opposite sex of them are doing it wrong. UNLESS of course, this statement is only meant to say that two parents of the same gender automatically negate any teaching they are attempting to pass on to their child, simply by the power of their reproductive organs not interlocking like Voltron limbs in the manner in which this ex-group man showerer deems Biblically correct. Because unless that’s the case he’s making, all children of divorce or any other single parentage should automatically be taken from their homes the second it is not populated by two alternately gendered parental figures, you know, for their own well being.

But the other bit of ignorance about the statement that probably bothers me more is a more stereotype based bit of observation. Two gay men would likely raise a better woman than a hundred straight women and two lesbian women would undoubtedly raise a better man than a dozen dozen hetro blokes. Or maybe that’s my ignorance clouding his ignorance in a hot, steamy ignorance sauna, so foggy from the drippy steam, just groping for answers, hands, grasping things that they might not normally if they could see clearly, it may be wrong elsewhere, but right here, right now, there’s nothing more right in this entire world!

What was I saying?

Ah, right, former professional sweaty man who was paid millions of dollars to run from the grasp of larger, heaving sweaty men and his hatred of amateur sweaty men’s want to be sweaty together…

“Marriage is the only relationship that actually mirrors the relationship with God,” he said.
Our Father, who art a total Top...
Our Father, who art a total Top...

Which, if you really wanted to be a dick, you could say SOUNDS a lot like him saying that as a believer, he is married to God, as generally depicted as a large, burly, bearded man in all artistic representations, which makes his statement sound kind of hypocritical. Feetball catchman Tyree can be married to what the community would call a “bear” but other mortal men can’t marry similarly mortal men. That’s kinda unfair really.

Let’s also just gloss over the ignorant hypocrisy of another statement of his objection in the article that:

it is not justifiable to alter a long-standing institution “because a minority — an influential minority — has … an agenda,”

Says the millionaire man of non-caucasian ancestry whom without the agenda of an influential minority not sixty years ago couldn’t buy a sandwich in many establishments owned by proprietors who hated his ancestors simply because of how they were born and the lifestyle they lived.

But the main thrust of his argument is that allowing dude one to buy a piece of paper that says he and dude two are going to be able to put each other on their health insurance and allow them to visit one another while in the hospital, that it could only signal for this great, man on woman bonded nation:

“the beginning of our country sliding toward … anarchy,” he said

Now, “anarchy” as defined by Susan Merriam and Alouicious Webster is:

1
a : absence of government
b : a state of lawlessness or political disorder due to the absence of governmental authority
c : a utopian society of individuals who enjoy complete freedom without government
2
a: absence or denial of any authority or established order
b: absence of order
Anarchy is so gay...
Anarchy is so gay...

It’s probably safe to say that Mr. Tyree didn’t mean it in the “utopian society” sense of the word, so I can only assume “catchy runny yay” believes that allowing two ladies to scissor the night away as legally recognized wife and wife will somehow bring about the total collapse of the United States government. I’m not sure if he thinks this will come about by gays sucking up the steps of the capital building and ousting our elected leaders by force, or if he thinks that knowing fellahs would be out there sword fighting with their two married dongs would drive all of our countries legislators to mass suicide, leaving no one left to not pass laws out of petty childish gamesmanship or blind incompetence and or intolerance.

Why what two people do in the comfort of their own home bothers so many people is beyond me. If you think two hunky slabs of beef getting married on court house steps somehow delegitimizes your own legal bonding, it seems like you’ve got insecurity issues that have nothing to do with who sticks what in which where. Nobody is screaming at you about the failed experiment that is heterosexual marriage where more than half of these holy unions end up in do overs. So how about we just give marriage to the gays for a while, see if they have any better luck with it?
 
“We’re doing God an injustice by not making his heart known to our country. “
The bible’s a big book, how about we focus on more than just your favorite sentence or two and try living more in line with the teachings on the whole, you know, peace, love and forgiveness. I’m no theologizisit, but I’m pretty sure it’s what Jesus would do.

TV Review: “Taking on Tyson”

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You know that mustard and salami sandwich you enjoyed so much for lunch? How about high speed internet? Trail Mix? The carpool lane? Cupcake shops? Digital billboards? Cup o’ Chili? The soft cast? You like all those things? Well, you probably don’t know that you have “Iron” Mike Tyson to thank for all of it.

Mike and a... uhm... air fish, thing...
Mike and a... uhm... air fish, thing...

“Taking on Tyson”, Animal Planet’s new reality series following former man pummeler Mike Tyson, introduces us to the very real, very have been happening before now world of inner city pigeon racing. You see, Mike Tyson loves pigeons, and now that he no longer has the bestial hunger to pound another living human being to within an inch of their life, he has turned his life long love affair with the airborne urban rodent, the pigeon into an interest in “professional” pigeon racing.

Never heard of pigeon racing before, let alone the 6 month long pigeon racing SEASON that Mike will be participating in during the run of this surreal fever dream that is “Taking on Tyson”? Well don’t worry, that’s just because it didn’t exist until Mike Tyson decided he wanted to do it. Sure, the show goes on in great detail to set up this secret underground world of New York roof top pigeon racing, but that’s just because they don’t want Mike Tyson to punch them in the face. Not wanting to be punched in the face by Mike Tyson is the reason why most things in the world today exist. Mike Tyson is one of the biggest drivers of American innovation and invention in the world.

Vulcanized rubber. The second hand. Pizza flavored Combos. Thrift stores. The list of things that science, technology and nature has had to create because at some point Mike Tyson thought it would be sweet is staggering. Fingerless gloves. Space bags. Fish. You heard me, fish. Do you remember fish before Mike Tyson? You think you do, because much like this show, the back story of fish had to be retroactively created and inserted into public consciousness immediately after Mike had the simple fleeting thought of “Wouldn’t it be sweet if like, there were pigeons in the water?” Fish.

“I wanna be world champion. I want my pigeons to be world champion.” 

When not creating the very thing he’s now dedicated his life to, Mike is very philosophical about the roughness of his childhood and how he relates training his pigeons to training as a fighter. Mike Tyson is very all or nothing all the time. There is no middle speed on a Mike Tyson. I plan on tuning in to this show in the future just to see Mike’s birds zipping through the sky in silk shorts, punching the shit out of competing racing birds.

Are there flaws in this show? No Mr. Tyson, there absolutely are not. It’s the pinnacle of the medium. In fact, I’m pretty sure television was invented late Sunday afternoon simply for the purpose of airing this program. Of course a few particularly, great, things do stand out as one struggles through this seemingly endless hour of telling me how incredible pigeons are against the backdrop of more slow motion bird footage than a John Woo porn shoot.

For one, the show clearly realizes that since you’re watching a show about Mike Tyson racing birds, you must also be a lunatic, so it recaps the entire premise of the series after every break.

Okay, I hadn't thought about it like that...
Okay, I hadn't thought about it like that...
Also, the word “pigeon” is used so often in this single hour that it quickly loses any and all meaning that it may have previously had. At one point in the show I decided to start replacing the word “pigeon” in my mind with the word “bread”. This ingenious word trick unfortunately had me soon believing that Mike Tyson got into his first child hood fight when a bully stole and murdered one of his prize pieces of bread right in front of him and that now Mike Tyson and a group of his bread loving friends wanted to competitively race bread. But you know what? If Mike Tyson wanted to race bread, a team of sport and agriculture scientists would be hard at work creating a system for how to do it, and I would be watching that show too, because actually, that sounds awesome.

Science has proven that anything can happen, whether it should or not, all that it needs is a little prompting and a lot of motivation. And just know that more than the needs of the masses or the necessity of the thing, the main driving force for the scientific community at large is the constant fear of being viciously and repeatedly punched in and about the head and neck area by the former five time heavyweight champion of the world: “Iron” Mike Tyson.

Oh, and escalators, that was his too.

TV Review: "Taking on Tyson"

Posted on

You know that mustard and salami sandwich you enjoyed so much for lunch? How about high speed internet? Trail Mix? The carpool lane? Cupcake shops? Digital billboards? Cup o’ Chili? The soft cast? You like all those things? Well, you probably don’t know that you have “Iron” Mike Tyson to thank for all of it.

Mike and a... uhm... air fish, thing...
Mike and a... uhm... air fish, thing...

“Taking on Tyson”, Animal Planet’s new reality series following former man pummeler Mike Tyson, introduces us to the very real, very have been happening before now world of inner city pigeon racing. You see, Mike Tyson loves pigeons, and now that he no longer has the bestial hunger to pound another living human being to within an inch of their life, he has turned his life long love affair with the airborne urban rodent, the pigeon into an interest in “professional” pigeon racing.

Never heard of pigeon racing before, let alone the 6 month long pigeon racing SEASON that Mike will be participating in during the run of this surreal fever dream that is “Taking on Tyson”? Well don’t worry, that’s just because it didn’t exist until Mike Tyson decided he wanted to do it. Sure, the show goes on in great detail to set up this secret underground world of New York roof top pigeon racing, but that’s just because they don’t want Mike Tyson to punch them in the face. Not wanting to be punched in the face by Mike Tyson is the reason why most things in the world today exist. Mike Tyson is one of the biggest drivers of American innovation and invention in the world.

Vulcanized rubber. The second hand. Pizza flavored Combos. Thrift stores. The list of things that science, technology and nature has had to create because at some point Mike Tyson thought it would be sweet is staggering. Fingerless gloves. Space bags. Fish. You heard me, fish. Do you remember fish before Mike Tyson? You think you do, because much like this show, the back story of fish had to be retroactively created and inserted into public consciousness immediately after Mike had the simple fleeting thought of “Wouldn’t it be sweet if like, there were pigeons in the water?” Fish.

“I wanna be world champion. I want my pigeons to be world champion.” 

When not creating the very thing he’s now dedicated his life to, Mike is very philosophical about the roughness of his childhood and how he relates training his pigeons to training as a fighter. Mike Tyson is very all or nothing all the time. There is no middle speed on a Mike Tyson. I plan on tuning in to this show in the future just to see Mike’s birds zipping through the sky in silk shorts, punching the shit out of competing racing birds.

Are there flaws in this show? No Mr. Tyson, there absolutely are not. It’s the pinnacle of the medium. In fact, I’m pretty sure television was invented late Sunday afternoon simply for the purpose of airing this program. Of course a few particularly, great, things do stand out as one struggles through this seemingly endless hour of telling me how incredible pigeons are against the backdrop of more slow motion bird footage than a John Woo porn shoot.

For one, the show clearly realizes that since you’re watching a show about Mike Tyson racing birds, you must also be a lunatic, so it recaps the entire premise of the series after every break.

Okay, I hadn't thought about it like that...
Okay, I hadn't thought about it like that...
Also, the word “pigeon” is used so often in this single hour that it quickly loses any and all meaning that it may have previously had. At one point in the show I decided to start replacing the word “pigeon” in my mind with the word “bread”. This ingenious word trick unfortunately had me soon believing that Mike Tyson got into his first child hood fight when a bully stole and murdered one of his prize pieces of bread right in front of him and that now Mike Tyson and a group of his bread loving friends wanted to competitively race bread. But you know what? If Mike Tyson wanted to race bread, a team of sport and agriculture scientists would be hard at work creating a system for how to do it, and I would be watching that show too, because actually, that sounds awesome.

Science has proven that anything can happen, whether it should or not, all that it needs is a little prompting and a lot of motivation. And just know that more than the needs of the masses or the necessity of the thing, the main driving force for the scientific community at large is the constant fear of being viciously and repeatedly punched in and about the head and neck area by the former five time heavyweight champion of the world: “Iron” Mike Tyson.

Oh, and escalators, that was his too.

Supour Heroues

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First: I’m the bloody Batgent, guv’na!

Then: Spider-Lad, Spider-Lad, does what ever is not unbecoming of a Spider-Lad to do!

Lord Clark, of Kent.
Lord Clark, of Kent.

And now…

Look, up in the air, it’s a parrot! It’s a sky lorry! No, it’s — Superbloke!

What in the name of god’s three color butt hole is going on here!?

Batman, Superman, Spider-Man. Three fictional AMERICAN super heroes and champions of Gotham City, Metropolis and New York, three fictional AMERICAN cities! So why then I ask you, true believers, are they all now being portrayed in our cineplexes and flicker show houses by a bunch of freedom hating, beef boiling, soggy english twats!?

Just announced yesterday, old world imperialist actor Henry Cavill has been cast to play Superman in the franchise re-boot “Man of Steel” set to debut December 2012. This pasty muncher, best known for his roles in “The Tudors” and the upcoming Greed god epic “Immortals”, meaning unknown to most right thinking Americans, apparently specializes in the portrayal of fictionalized European demigods. And now HE is who will be standing up for all to see as a beacon of “Truth, Justice and the AMERICAN way”?! It is for SHAME!

Now, I realize that I am the only one who is going to be brave enough to stand up to this injustice (league) and call it out for what it is. But I’m used to taking unpopular stands for those who are afraid to speak up against the (masters of) evil of this world. And I say to you, here and now, that this, British actors, with their extra vowels and distracting distortion of god’s American English language, playing the roles of iconic American folk heroes, is nothing short of socially acceptable, twenty-first century black face! That’s right! I said it, and no, I do not believe that I am at all over stating the severity of this slight in even the tiniest little bit. It’s like seeing Spider-Man played in black face! (Not to be confused with black Spider-Man which was played by a white man, but an AMERICAN white man.)

Pip, pip. There's a good lad.
Pip, pip. There's a good lad.

So today, we have boat loads of swarthy British actors, washing up on our shores, carrying with them all of their filth and disease and acting trophies. They smear on a little American accent and toss about “y’all”s and “ain’t”s with the insensitivity of a watermelon grin. These despicable opportunists pause but for only a moment from their usual dabbing of their cheeks with fine cream filled puffed pastry or the swatting away at the unwashed peasantry just long enough to dirty their fine porcelain hands in the art of stealing money from starving American actors like George Clooney, Tobey Maguire and Brandon Routh! They put on the old soft shoe and play act as “Americans” and it’s all forgiven, their grotesque little minstrel show is all accepted as good-natured and all in good fun, when in reality it is a direct insult to all Americans and our very ancient and proud way of life!

If this is all just payback for Robert Downey Jr.’s terrible British accent in the new Sherlock Holmes, fine, we get it, fair is fair, but enough is enough!

And all of this comes, not co-incidentally, as America faces harrowing economic hardship. Unemployment is at a staggering 114% and one in seven American actors is forcibly fed to the other six to ensure the very survival of the species! Yet now in our most dire of need, elitist, effeminate, atheist Hollywood directors and producers, rather than make a stand and support the fine country that has given them every opportunity in the world to destroy the very moral fabric of our society, instead take the liberty to yank down the emaciated Uncle Sam’s be-striped trousers and point and laugh at his once strong and turgid, but now limp and flaccid economy. They are shipping away the last of our entertainment industry jobs to their art house, mayo dipped fry chomping, tea swilling British bastard co-conspirators!

I for one will not stand idly by as the greatest of our uniquely American heroes are swallowed up, one by one, by the gaping maw of the so called “mother land”. I will be protesting each and every one of these abominations until the roles are relinquished from the squishy pale hands of these usurpers and returned to the squishy artificially tanned hands of America’s finest acting forces.

Unless of course they turn out to be really good. Then what can I do?