Archive for February, 2013

Love Is My Badge

“Somebody Had To Do It”

Best Picture: 700,00 BCE—700,000 CE.


And They, Can See Ours

Best Actress, Best Actor, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Picture: 1968.

Of course, the Academy bestowed but two of these awards.

But so what? They’re all Real.

In Command Here

The nation’s premier serial killers are now whining and crying and weeping and moaning that the federal government may no longer be able to fully fund, to the obscene brim, to that level that they would supremely like, their deeply darkened Thanatos bliss of stab and shoot and strafe and slit.

These serial killers are openly and publicly blubbering that the so-called “sequester” might mean that they might no longer be as “ready” to blow all the limbs partyoff a five-year-girl, cave in the skull of an old woman, or instantly evaporate the innards of some barely-bearded boy.

According to a furiously violin-playing piece in the Washington Post, these serial killers, also known as “the U.S. military’s service leaders,” have “begun painting a stark picture of the toll a congressionally mandated budget cut could take on the readiness of the world’s largest armed forces.”

To which, my question, is this: why would any even marginally-evolved human possibly want these people to be “ready” ?

For their “readiness” involves killing people and breaking things.

What human, evolved even an inch beyond the monolith, would ever want such a “ready” thing to be?

Any being, evolved beyond even pond scum, would quite naturally want these people to be as thoroughly “unready” as possible.

But no.

According to the Post, the serial killer General Ray Odierno, mass murderer in charge of the US Army, death-ejaculates that “the cuts may curtail training for 80 percent of ground forces, including some in the deployment pipeline, forcing him to extend the deployments of troops already in Afghanistan.”

The serial killers in charge of the US Navy meanwhile death-ejaculate that “the Navy has delayed the deployment of the USS Harry Truman, leaving just one aircraft carrier instead of two in the Persian Gulf, where tensions continue with Iran. The budget crunch also will mean delays for repairs of a carrier and the construction of another. ”

And the serial killers in charge of the US Air Force death-ejaculate that “slashing $12.4 billion from its budget for the remainder of the fiscal year would require cutting 200,000 flying hours. That means that by May, two-thirds of the force’s pilots would ‘drop below acceptable level of readiness,’ Air Force chief Mark Welsh told lawmakers recently.”

What is the problem with these people? We evolved humans want them to  “drop below [an] acceptable level of readiness.”

Because their “acceptable level of readiness” means let's gothey can continue to joyfully spew death-sperm as they blow all the limbs off a five-year-girl, cave in the skull of an old woman, and instantly evaporate the innards of some barely-bearded boy.

None of these sad sadsack ur-people are necessary. The United States is at peace with its neighbors, Canada and Mexico. Thus, as I have repeatedly pointed out, like Cassandra in the chariot on her way to the bloody baths, the country needs no Army. No Navy. No Marines. No Air Force

All these serial killers, they are so old. So in the way.

It is long past time that they unslung their weapons and went out and got real jobs and started helping their fellow humans.

They are the scourge of this planet.

They are so over.

They are all going to go.

And, of course, the first to go, shall be all the dark murderous introvert impotent “special forces.” Who, as is the nature of who they are, are currently out and about raping and torturing and murdering, there in Afghanistan.

Hoo-rah. Semper fi. Anchors aweigh. Fly the friendly skies. Get down and dirty. Fuck us some skulls.

But heh. Don’t dare “sequester” even a dollar, that might go to these people. Because there’s a world of skulls out there, that need to be fucked. And woe betide those, who’d deny these “heroes” the coin, enabling them to, ever-failing, try to slip the sad saggy shriveled thing, in.

It’s Too Late To Stop Now

Liveblogging Oscars Night – Updated with Results

(this one writ by our Alexa)

Finally! I wait every year, not patiently, for the Academy Awards, and this is The Big Night.

Do you love movies as much as I do? I have only seen a couple of the movies nominated, but it’s fun to watch the celebs on the red carpet (their hairdos and even more, the hair-don’ts), the jewelry and pero Dios mio, the dresses!) who can resist the glamour, the decadence, and so much Shiny Stuff only once a year? Not me.

My aunt and I like to watch together. Our big activity in the winter months to see all the movies before the awards, but not this year. Yes, since you asked, we do make a big production of it, and wear our best dresses to eat appetizers and get blasted drinking a pitcher of Oscar’s Big Night (recipe below). This year, we can’t be together. My husband’s taste in movies trends toward car chases or paranormal activities . . so I’m hoping there are some Meese who like movies?

Seth McFarlane (best known for an animated series on dysfunctional families (Family Guy is allegedly a postmodern Simpsons with some South Park flavor in the mix) is the host of this year’s awards. I’m not a fan but he was pret-ty hilarious on Jimmy Fallon’s show, in a Puppy Predictions skit. (Okay, you got me. Jimmy as a host would have been amazing.) Without further adieu, here are our nominees.

Best Picture

  • Amour
  • Argo: WINNER
  • Beasts of the Southern Wild
  • Django Unchained
  • Les Misérables
  • Life of Pi
  • Lincoln
  • Silver Linings Playbook
  • Zero Dark ThirtyWho will win?

    Lincoln is the odds-on favorite, but I think Argo could be The Little Movie That Can.

    Who will win?
    I’ve only seen three (Argo, Beasts of the Southern Wild, Silver Linings Playbook. I don’t have a particular favorite in this category . . . and since it’s always the last award at the finale of 3+ hours of TV, I’ll be tipsy if I’m awake.

    Best Actor in a Leading Role

  • Bradley Cooper (Silver Linings Playbook)
  • Daniel Day-Lewis: WINNER! (Lincoln)
  • Hugh Jackman (Les Misérables )
  • Joaquin Phoenix (The Master)
  • Denzel Washington (Flight)Who will win?
    Daniel Day-Lewis.

    Who should win?
    Can I just say Denzel Washington was pitch-frickin’ perfect in Flight? What could have been a so-so couple of hours was an amazing roller coaster ride as Denzil crash-lands a commercial 737, becomes an instant hero, is stalked by the media, and cannot escape his inner demons and self-loathing, no matter how he tries.

    Best Actress in a Leading Role

  • Jessica Chastain (Zero Dark Thirty)
  • Jennifer Lawrence: WINNER! (Silver Linings Playbook)
  • Emmanuelle Riva (Amour)
  • Quvenzhané Wallis (Beasts of the Southern Wild)
  • Naomi Watts (The Impossible)Who will win?
    This one’s a toss-up between Naomi Watts and Jennifer Lawrence.

    Who should win?
    If I admitted being a betting woman, my money’s on Jennifer Lawrence.

    Quvenzhané Wallis is the most adorable, irrepressible six-year-old sprite of all time, and I really liked Beasts the first time I watched it.

    Later on, it occurred to me that this is a film with some rather obvious stereotypes about poor black folks in Louisiana. An old theme in the history of literature, the tragic mulatto in this movie is a young child.

    Actually, she’s Hushpuppy to me, and yeah, she is The Man). Very bright future, if Hollywood can resist exploiting this precious, talented little sweetheart’s age and color.

    Best Actor in a Supporting Role


  • Alan Arkin (Argo)
  • Robert De Niro (Silver Linings Playbook)
  • Philip Seymour Hoffman (The Master)
  • Tommy Lee Jones (Lincoln)
  • Christoph Waltz: WINNER! 2 shots (Django UnchainedWho will win?
    Alan Arkin.

    Who should win?
    Alan Arkin. The Ben Affleck snub still stings.

    Best Actress in a Supporting Role

  • Amy Adams (The Master)
  • Sally Field (Lincoln)
  • Anne Hathaway: WINNER (Les Misérables)
  • Helen Hunt (The Sessions)
  • Jacki Weaver (Silver Linings Playbook)Who will win?
    I haven’t seen any of these.

    Who should win?
    What do you think?

    WHEN: 7 p.m. Eastern time.


Errand Boy

  • Eddie Garcia: Miep, blueness was banned because he attacked all who serve in the entire military, viciously and unjustifiably, and also because a forensic psychologist contacted the admins and offered a diagnosis of a psychiatric disorder. You’ll note that his last diary was deleted. Admins did that It was damaging to the site.

He can be terrible. He can be mean. And he can be right. But you’re gonna call him crazy? Wrong! Wrong! If you could have heard the man just two days ago, if you could have heard him then! God. and you're gonna call him crazyThe man’s enlarged my mind. He’s a poet-warrior in the classic sense. Sometimes he’ll, well, you say hello to him, right? And he’ll just walk right by you, and he won’t even notice you. And then suddenly he’ll grab you and he’ll throw you in a corner and he’ll say, “Do you know that ‘if’ is the middle word in ‘life’? If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you.” I’m a little man, I’m a little man; he’s a great man. “I should have been a pair of ragged claws, scuttling across floors of silent seas.” The heads. You’re looking at the heads. Sometimes he goes too far. And he’s the first one to admit it. He gets friendly again, he really does. See, just lay cool, lay cool. Lay back, dig it. Well, man, he’s gone away. He disappeared out in the jungle with his people. He feels comfortable with his people. He forgets himself with his people. He forgets himself.

Shiny Happy People

People are gregarious by necessity. Since the days of the first cave dwellers, humans—hairless, weak, and helpless save for cunning—have fun fun funsurvived by joining together in groups; knowing, as so many other edible creatures have found, that there is protection in numbers. And that knowledge, bred in the bone, is what lies behind mob rule. Because to step outside the group, let alone to stand against it, was for uncounted thousands of years death to the creature who dared it. To stand against a crowd would take something more than ordinary courage; something that went beyond human instinct. And I feared I did not have it, and fearing, was ashamed.

—Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

Preview Of Coming Attractions

That all the guns are going to go—that is just a small part of it.

Also going: the money, the cities, a/kthe “jobs.”


Quaint amusing relicts. Of the larval stage. Of human beings.

These days, the larvae eagerly yammer, increasingly, of going into space, there to, with their scuttling unthinking humanoid claws, mine, rip, plunder.


They’re going into space, all right. Humans. But not as larvae. Instead, as butterflies. And, therefore, not in bodies at all.

And there, they will disturb nothing at all.

It’s all, going to be all right.

It doesn’t matter to me, whether you see any of this. Or not. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I’ve looked over.

There’s Love In This World

There’s Love In This World

There’s Love In This World

Soul Sacrifice

Now it is said that Eddie Routh, the Semper Fi guy accused of back-shooting Super Sniper Seal back-shooter Chris Kyle, arrived shortly thereafter at the home of his sister, behind the wheel of Kyle’s black Ford truck; Routh informed her he had “traded his soul for a new truck.”

He stated that he was required to kill both Kyle and Chad Littlefield because “he couldn’t in the bagtrust them.” So, “he killed them before they could kill them.”

All three men had been wandering around with weapons at a Texas gun range. Reports are that Kyle and Littlefield had taken Routh to the gun range so he could bang-bang shoot-shoot as a form of “therapy.”

Routh had not been doing well for some time. A veteran of Operation Iraqi Fiefdom, Routh in June of 2012 was identified by his mother as the suspect in a burglary of her home in which the thief absconded with nine bottles of pills. In September of 2012, Routh was hospitalized after he threatened to kill himself and his family. Responding law-enforcement officers found him “shoeless and smelling of booze”; Routh stated “he was hurting and that his family does not understand what he has been through.”

On January 19, Routh was again hospitalized, this time after a Dallas woman told police she feared for his safety. He was released on January 24, soon returned, then released again, this time on January 29. It is said that Routh was released from this latest hospital-stay, against his family’s wishes, four days before he went out on the range with Kyle and Littlefield.

Kyle was an advocate of placing guns in the hands of troubled veterans.

In his book, Kyle wrote that gun-range therapy was meant to be easygoing and fun, with teasing, jokes and bonding over beers and stories.

“What wounded veterans don’t need is sympathy,” Kyle wrote. “They need to be treated like the men they are: equals, heroes, and people who still have tremendous value for society. If you want to help them, start there. In a funny way, bustin’ back and forth shows more respect than asking ‘Are you OK?’ in a sickly sweet voice.”

Oh yes. Heaven forbid that one inquire whether another human being is okay. Better to give them a beer, and a gun.

In a response to this piece, red reader roger recently revealed here that he almost became, like Kyle, a sniper.

I’m glad to see the article. It’s struck a personal theme for me. You see, they wanted me to be a sniper in vietnam. I would have done it, too. But a soon-to-retire active us army veteran of WW2 and Korea combat took me aside and, choosing his words cautiously, set me straight on that possible future. He’s gone now. I am forever in his debt. They say that the souls of the people you kill all go into a bag. A bag you’ll have to drag along throughout your life – and maybe for eternity. Evidently there were too many in Kyle’s bag. Garrulous souls, perhaps, and they wanted Kyle to join them in their whited sepulchers.


Upon the completion of an exhaustive six-year study, Science Men have determined that the first human was a thin and wiry rat-like creature who gobbled insects.

So: not a lot has changed.

One of these ur-humans for many years crawled across the TV screen round these parts. He called himself Cal Worthington, and, in the interest of peddling automobiles, he claimed that if a buggedcustomer was for some reason not satisfied, he would “eat a bug.”

It was always clear to me that this creature liked eating bugs, and was simply searching for any excuse to ingest one.

A photograph of the Worthington being is presented above, pictured with one of his wives, who appears to be undergoing a profoundly bug-like experience.

The official name bestowed upon the Worthingtons by the Science Men is Protungulatum donnae. They first emerged on the earth some 66 million years, after a rude and abusive asteroid who, for reasons that passeth understanding, violently disliked dinosaurs, slammed into the planet, so as to create climactic conditions that would cause all the dinosaurs to pass away. This was as sad as “Puff The Magic Dragon” or “The Unicorn Song.” The dinosaurs deliquesced, becoming petroleum, which enabled the rise of the Worthingtons, who evolved to flog motored vehicles powered by said petroleum.

This is Science.

To ensure their Survival, the Worthingtons evolved into not only humans, but also some 5400 other current species; basically, anybody who has a placenta. The Worthingtons are of the placenta uber alles cohort.

“The findings were not a total surprise,” claims Science Man Maureen A. O’Leary, who is a woman. “But it’s an important discovery because it relies on lots of information from fossils and also molecular data. Other scientists, at least a thousand, some from other countries, are already signing up to use MorphoBank.”

I do not know what “MorphoBank” is, but it sounds Wrong. I believe that it may have something to do with The Matrix. I will obtain a Grant, and commence a Study.

I will not eat a bug.


in this place or in any other place
may there come abundant peace
race, lovingkindness, and compassion
ng life
mple sustenance, and salvation

may there be abundant peace from heaven
and good life
satisfaction, help, comfort, refuge
healing, redemption, forgiveness, atonement
relief, and salvation

—Kaddish, prayer for & from the dead

Chris Kyle killed human beings for money.

On the American taxpayers’ dime, he, for too many years, wandered to and fro in Iraq, killing, from concealment, from ambush, from firehiding, a craven coward, citizens of a country where he had no business being.

Kyle was there because, in Iraq, George II was determined to pursue, and end, an atavistic dynastic family feud, like something out of the 8th Century, roll right over that country, because Saddam Hussein, decreed he, was “the guy who tried to kill my dad.”

Though George II was not, alas, able to mount in the Oval Office Saddam’s head—after he had successfully cut off from life, in the great dynastic family-feud tradition, both Saddam, and his sons—he did take prideful personal strutting possession of Saddam’s metallic phallus, in the form of his revolver. Which, one should suppose, must serve as the next best thing.

And because George II’s Secretary of Defense, Colonel Walter E. Rumsfeld, advised, when the planes flew into the towers on September 11, that Afghanistan should mostly be eschewed, as a retaliatory site, because Iraq presented “better targets.” For all his little war toys. And all his little war boys.

That Kyle “fought” like a craven coward should not be something laid wholly at his own feet. For, as I first expressed here, cowardice today defines the way Americans wage war. A nation of cowardly back-shooters. From their snipers, to their drones.

And, as I said back then, every time an American, wielding sniper to drone, cowardly back-shoots a human being, in that human being’s home region, said American births, in full flower, another dark Jesse James.

“Blood,” knew Aeschylus, some 2500 years ago, “begets blood.”

And so, Saturday, Chris Kyle, the cowardly back-shooter of the US Navy, of a career of cowardly back-shooting in a country land-locked but for a tiny tip, where no Navy-man should ever logically or even sanely go, was himself cowardly back-shot. By a veteran of the United States Marine Corps.

Semper fi.


When I Worked

February 2013