April 10, 2005

Like That Five in Your Pocket Was Going to Virtuous Purposes Anyway

Do me a favor (oh, don't you love posts that begin with that one?): Help Andrea Harris out, especially if you have lousy vision coverage and know the pain of forking out massive sums for corrective lenses.

Now I can't prove this, but I have a feeling that some of you do not appreciate Andrea the way you ought to appreciate Andrea. See, Andrea will have a link from me eternally because Andrea writes things like this:

France is spreading some of that liberty, equality, and fraternity they are always talking about. Well, the fraternity of the dead, the equality of the grave, and liberty from this vale of tears we call life, that is.

Here’s the thing. All my life I’ve had the free, open, mature, intellectually superior, high-cultured, democratic wonder that is France pushed at me by Francophiles* (a fancy word that means “kissers of Gallic ass") in both my own life and from Our Betters in the Media. It’s mostly a load of bull. The French are mean, authoritarian motherfuckers and always have been.

And this:

I have figured out a way to make watching tv news/talk shows (they are hardly distinguishable from one another these days) bearable: drink. Because that way I was able to endure ten whole minutes of the Dennis Miller show just now. Dennis isn’t the problem – he’s fine, though he looks kind of like Alvin the Chipmunk – but Nick Gillespie is one of his guests. (The others are some plump fellow with a truly pathetic beard-effort that looks like he told his stylist to make him look “just like my idol, Dennis Miller,” and some chick with one bony shoulder poking pathetically out of her sweater in such a way that

(Pause while I play with my cat)

it looks as if she was mugged on the way to the studio and is too stoned on crack to give a shit.

Oh, and who could forget this?

The scenario goes like this:

Male blogger with lots of ad links and hit counts on his site wakes up one day forgetting how to use a search engine and posts something like "Where are all the women bloggers and by that I mean the ones that write about my favorite subjects (politics and the insert football team name and site visitor statistics and how I rank on Ecoshizzle)? Since I am congenitally unable to look these blogs up myself I will conclude that the stereotype that I ingested from my many years watching movies by liberal, progressive Hollywood -- that women are too busy being sweet, nurturing, over-emotional, and crazy with the menstrual psychosis and the need to have sex with ugly men like Woody Allen to be able to handle scary mens' opinions -- is the reason."

Ten thousand female bloggers: "Die you stupid shithead die. But first, here are the goddamn links for the nine-millionth time."

Male blogger plus commenters: "You women are always acting like victims! Stupid feminazis!"

Even when Andrea goes off the deep end, she does it in a spectacular way that you only wish you could manage:

Okay. Personal. You want personal? HERE'S PERSONAL.

Gee, looks like all the "Oh noes, Allah quit blogging! Come back Allah you totally rock!" has gone to your fucking head. YOU brought up a totally unrelated subject ("Gee, what if General Mattis had insulted Iraqis who voted instead of remarked that it was fun to kill the terrorists who were trying to keep them from voting?" which has nothing, nada, rien, niente, NOTHING to do with the subject, and certainly nothing to do with the YES BULLSHIT "hearts and minds campaign" because for one thing, the vote was for IRAQ, not us, you don't tell a dying man who refuses medicine that will cure him that it's your fault because the shot wasn't going to be administered by an attractive nurse). YOU brought up the straw man. YOU did it. NOT me. YOU did it. Not me. YOU DID IT. NOT ME. YOU ARE FULL OF SHIT. NOT ME. DON'T YOU FUCKING TRY TO BULLSHIT ME.

Come on, you are ALL mild-mannered Clark Kents next to that. Now give the woman some money. You people who email me wondering where my Paypal button is?--You take that little tchotchke you were going to buy me and give it to Andrea Harris. Trust me, you'll get more out of it than you would by giving it to Citibank me.

(And yes, I put my money where my [virtual] mouth is, because unlike some breathtakingly misguided bloggers out there, I'm fairly certain Andrea won't REFUND it to me with a terse note explaining that she can't, in good conscience, accept a donation from such a lowly wage-slave as I. Yeah, buddy, you know who you are, and the only other thing I have to say about it is that even the poor have pride. You could maybe let them retain a little, considering they haven't much else. Jerk.)

Posted by Ilyka at April 10, 2005 07:05 AM in hell is other people

-- that women are too busy being sweet, nurturing, over-emotional, and crazy with the menstrual psychosis and the need to have sex with ugly men like Woody Allen to be able to handle scary mens' opinions -- is the reason.

Maybe in her day, but woman now are paralyzed by the need to have sex with Adam Sandler.

I'm going to go purge now, because in making a pretty stupid joke, I used the words "sex" and "Adam Sandler" in the same sentence.

Posted by: Mark at April 10, 2005 07:34 AM

"sex with Adam Sandler"


(By the way, I successfully managed to miss the ten thousand showings of Fifty First Dates that was on Showtime or something last week. I mean, I think the choice was "watch funeral mass for Pope over and over or watch Fifty First Dates. Um... old men in cassocks talking about Jesus in Italian it is!" No contest, really.)

Posted by: Andrea Harris at April 10, 2005 02:06 PM

My great-grandmother was terrorized by Cassocks on the steppes of Byeloroos ("White Sands").

A full-grown male Cassock can stand 2.1m tall with fearsome ornament!

Posted by: Joe Geoghegan at April 10, 2005 04:45 PM

Sigh. After reading over my entries from blogs past, I wonder what's happened to me. I used to be so full of poisonous invective and hatred -- Good times...

Maybe I should watch CNN.

Posted by: Andrea Harris at April 12, 2005 02:35 AM

Maybe I should watch CNN.

No, anything but that!

It's wearing to keep up a sustained level of venom. Luckily, something deserving of scorn happens along regularly enough to resuscitate the bile now and then.

Posted by: ilyka at April 12, 2005 02:59 AM

I find that radioactive spiders do the job for me. Dip them in chocolate. Mmmmgood!

Posted by: Pixy Misa at April 12, 2005 03:08 PM

That and New Scientist editorials. Aagh! Morons!

Posted by: Pixy Misa at April 12, 2005 03:08 PM