By CHRIS PACKHAM
Cold-front whatever: It's colder than a bucket of penguin shit, you guys. I spent the morning printing out random pages on the office laser jet and shoving printer-warm sheets of copy under my shirt. That's how we roll during the econocalypse, y'all, insulating ourselves with piping-hot 20 lb. 8 1/2" x 11" ultra-bright paper like white-collar hoboes. In order to continue living in the fly style to which I have become accustomed, I had to take on a second job, so I applied at Victoria's Secret on the sexxxy twin theories that you should work near what you love (the panties) and that I'd be warmly welcomed, the way chicks are greeted as conquering heroes when they enter the men's room. Long story short, my application was rejected as quickly as my applications to join Midwest Voices and the Curves fitness center, where I'm pretty sure Yael T. Abouhalkah and E. Thomas McClanahan have memberships, HONK! After the jump, some news about a famous Missouri asshole, and some thoughts about forming original thoughts out of words. Click here or on your boyfriend's success story:
What is the sound of one asshole Twittering? Oh, look, it's Missouri asshole Lori Drew, the woman who allegedly encouraged a 13-year-old St. Louis girl to commit suicide in 2006 by posing as a teenage boy on MySpace. Now she's on trial in Los Angeles, where MySpace servers are based, on legally overreaching charges of conspiracy and accessing a computer without authorization via interstate commerce. No jury in the world can not convict her of being an asshole, y'all. Lately, I've been doing a lot of deep Zen meditation of my rippling, shirtless torso in front of the mirror, and one of the principle tenets of Buddhist thought concerns the omnipresence of suffering and the challenge of treating all living beings with compassion. And that's one challenge I'm just not cut out for; I can't do the splits, either. I am spiritually crippled by my inability to walk in the shoes of Lori Drew, fucking Jesus, what an asshole.
Use new words: Tuesday was the whatever anniversary of the Jonestown mass suicide, yawn, very sad. Sorry, you guys, it was an unnecessary tragedy, but I don't live in the past, I live in the now, where I'm too preoccupied with floating the disembodied heads of my enemies with my kinesis ray and then shooting them with a gun. Dead Space, y'all. For obvious reasons, Tuesday was also the anniversary of the phrase "drinking the Kool-Aid," which is lazy short-hand applied to advocates of popular positions by boring cultural critics with no fucking imagination. I thought it would be fun to put together a "friendship collage" of "drinking the Kool-Aid" images, but a cursory Google image search yields nothing but approximately one billion different instances of Barack Obama Photoshopped over pictures of the iconic Kool-Aid man, plus one of Steve Jobs holding some Kool-Aid. So, there goes that whole idea.
I even tried to force the issue by searching for "Bill O'Reilly Kool Aid" and "Limbaugh Kool Aid," with no interesting results. Conclusion: Conservative bloggers love that analogy enough to spend six minutes manipulating Photoshop layers. But here's the thing: I don't give a shit if Noam fuckin' Chomsky regularly illustrates his own lefty polemics with gross Jonestown imagery — "Yore drinkin the Kool-Aid" is the quickest desktop shortcut for launching my complete indifference to anything you have to say, you guys, followed closely by any pseudo-ironic use of the phrases "series of tubes" or "internets." Anyway, w/r/t tasteless rhetorical inferences, I much prefer metaphors involving motorcades in Dallas or jets crashing into twin towers, please, let's have more of those. Seacrest out.
Amazing, on so many levels. I do think one of the next Daily Briefs entries should give an example on what the Fairness Doctrine would look like applied to blogs. That would be incredible.
Posted at: November 21, 2008 2:59 PM