Mark Hurley

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Letter to Nevada Governor Candidates #1

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The open letter sent by the president of the Nevada Board of Education to the current governor and those vying for his seat in November 2010 received a write-up in the Reno Gazette-Journal and was generally well-accepted.

Dear [Candidate],

We, the Nevada State Board of Education, are writing to express our extreme dissatisfaction with the proposed further cuts to the state’s education budget. Already, we have been forced to approve a ten percent cut by the State Budget Office to the already anorexic funding our schools receive. Now we have been told by Governor Gibbons to prepare for a further thirty to forty percent drop.

In attending the education debate held between yourself and your opponent in the upcoming election on August 29, 2010, I admit to leaving with a sense of disappointment with both of your proffered positions. Your initial stances on the importance of education to the future of our state were commendable, however neither candidate felt it necessary to expound on the specifics of your plans to act on that importance. We cordially invite you to delineate your future policies as concerns primary education in Nevada.

It is generally agreed amongst government officials in Nevada that education will be paramount in long term plans to solve our enduring economic crisis. From the Board itself, purportedly up to yourself and your opponent for Governorship, the pervading thinking is that well educated students will be instrumental in alleviating our financial woes. How then can these draconian amputations be taken as anything but a strike at the livelihood of the people that would see you elected?

Beyond the economic considerations the current Governor’s proposals raise, what of our children? It is incumbent upon us – indeed, it is our ultimate responsibility – to ensure that the generation that will assume the governance and economic stability of our state be adequately prepared to assume that role. First among our concerns must be our children. Nevada has the lowest per-pupil spending in the nation, while her citizenry is the lowest taxed. If we, the citizens and government leaders of this great state, are truly serious about the importance of education to all of our futures, then we cannot be afraid to pay for it.

Further cuts to statewide education at this junction would prove nothing less than deplorable, and we ask you to reject each proposal outright. While mindful of our participation in the larger economic crisis this nation faces, we see no logic in lowering the education budget. It is true that, in the opening days of your administration, you must struggle beyond belief to maintain a balance in the state’s budget across the board, and not simply in the school system. However, to see this happen at the expense of the smallest among us, knots the collective stomach of Nevadans.

We genuinely hope you will spend more time on the solution to the problem we all share, if not for the sake of the government officials that address you now, than for the children we are all sworn to encourage and protect.

Thank you,

Chris Wallace

President, State Board of Education

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Written by scumbagstyle

October 5, 2010 at 12:58 am

Perspective

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(Tour Arizona’s scenic Sonoran Desert! Resort pickup! Van adventures! Shoot jaywalkers!)

My fiancée and I have recently returned from a spectacular weekend spent with a recently transplanted buddy in Phoenix. It was my first visit to the land of John McCain, NBA Jam era Barclay, and leathery retirees so sick of people that they handily eschew Florida, where their grandchildren are more likely to visit. I am pleased to report the sprawling urban experiment, made of stubborn desert landscaping and held together with the glue of moral fortitude, still stands. I ‘report’ this because, if the spin mills are to be believed, that particular section of the Sonoran Desert has gone all Fertile Crescent with violent crime, kidnapping, and unabashedly brown births being carried out on any given street corner. Arizona lies on the front line of an invasion, and every day its people feel the burden that Obama refuses to shoulder. Indeed, what is it about the world’s deserts that American Presidents can’t seem to keep healthy of biblical crises? We exist in a nation divided, and a disproportionate length of fault line lies in the jurisdiction of an immigration law designed for a place that, if we are truly honest with ourselves, we have never even visited. In the internet age, it is easy to forget just how immense our country is, and just how misplaced outrage can get when dramatically different ways of life are happening a couple hundred miles away.

If the concern over SB 1070 is that all Arizonans – not just the differently colored ones – are at risk of a domino effect, stripping the state’s residents of their humanity and civil liberties – – if that is the concern, we can send that worry the way of the Native American infestation: those blankets have already been distributed. Judging by the shifting, terrified eyes of the average citizen of Phoenix, you would think they were all hiding an extended family of opera singing Jews under their floorboards. Paranoia is such a way of life down there, Howard Hughes could be mayor by virtue of being the calmest, sanest sonofabitch in residence. In the short span of our visit, we witnessed a Big Brother system so intricately conceived that any smiling neighbor could double as informant against you if you made the mistake of having any fun in their viscinity.

The bitch of it is, the city is not overrun by crime, by any standard. Aware of the region’s purported woes, I kept my eyes open, and saw no corner drug deals, no bullet holes in brick buildings, not even a person that drove faster than 5mph below the speed limit. No evidence of criminal enterprise either, like graffiti or so much as a foreboding dark alley. As my friend Dan, who moved to Scottsdale two months ago, explained it, doors to cars and homes were generally left unlocked, as the punishment for a crime as odious but innocuous as breaking and entering could easily be death by the guy who could legally blow a hole in you with his shot gun. Everywhere, the people have been scared into enforcing the laws of the land, for fear the hammer will fall upon them.

Crossing the Hoover Dam and braving the treacherous mountain passes (we learned on the return trip you could avoid those by taking the Laughlin route off the 93) necessitated we arrive in Scottsdale past midnight on Friday, so it was determined that the party should commence directly, lest we waste more time. Dan took us to a glorious dive bar he frequents, the fabled crumbling slice of Americana with tabletop shuffleboard, toilets last cleaned in ’86, and an ancient Big Game Hunter video cabinet comprising the majority of the furniture. It was perfect. Pitchers were cheap, the jukebox was only mostly country, and we were well into the swing of a southwestern night of quiet debauchery when the box-dyed, 45 going on 70 bartender ruined the evening by declaring the bar closed.

When I informed the woman I was nowhere near the level of inebriation I had hoped for, and requested perhaps one more beer, her eyes widened with the naked fear of converses during the Spanish Inquisition. “Get out, get out!” she cried, I shit you not, good reader. We left then, not inclined to witness just how close we came to seeing a middle aged woman crap her pants. We decided, instead, to procure a case of Bud at the Circle K and continue our shenanigans at home, out of eye- and earshot of the local Gestapo. (Read full article)

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Written by scumbagstyle

September 1, 2010 at 1:30 am

The Best Laid Plans…

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A retort…
(Originally appearing on Scumbag Style)

brosnan thinks you're an asshole(The plot was so convoluted and obvious, even BROSNAN Bond thinks we’re stupid for missing it.)

Contributor Sean Torrie, while an upstanding gentleman and a friend of the highest credentials, is a verbose fool. While his article on the so-called “Ground Zero Mosque” made some important points, his love of the sound of his own keyboard tapping diluted the argument so that his claim of final-say book-closing on the subject got lost in the translation. I will also chock some of that up to his insidious optimism (that I do not share), both in humanity itself and this experiment we call the United States. Here’s the bare bones, with less of the anecdotal apologetics, and none of the pandering. Seriously, sir, are you considering running for office? I was always under the impression you would be seizing power, to hell with the politics.

Sean was certainly right about one thing: despite our posturing and wailing over the past ten years, despite our cries from the respective religious and political pulpits, the terrorists have officially won. Our reaction to the racquetball courts a Muslim group plans to build near the site is exactly what our attackers intended. But where Sean developed whiskey dick and couldn’t close the deal is where he stopped short of the reality none of us want to face: The United States of America, as an experiment, has failed, from the common man to the tops of our four branches of government (include media before you call me a fuck head). Pack it up, it’s over. The Russians won, the Germans won, the Terrorists won, even the fucking British won. Because in this fundamental issue, this test of our fortitude in the face of what Sean would correctly call the “weakling bully,” we did not live up to the potential we fought every single war in our short history over.

It is all well and good to fight for our fundamental tenets of ‘freedom’ and ‘equality’ when the wars are happening in Europe and Asia. But when Bin-Laden jealously witnessed our progress over the past century in civil humanity, while greedily playing fast and loose with our financial systems, he knew exactly where to strike: our largest monument to capitalist smugness. He also knew our cowboy mentality would cause us to view his attack as purely physical: a bombing on our soil requiring immediate military response, and a bandage-able wound. He knew we would not realize that his attack was less of a military one than a biological one, a poison that would destroy the foundation of our core values if he waited patiently enough.

It worked, probably better than he could have hoped. Now, nearly a decade later, we have entirely abandoned the one value that might have justified our arrogant actions since September 11, 2001. In any possible argument against the proposed Muslim community center in New York, we have fallen, with enthusiasm, to his level, and that is all he wanted for Ramadan. One cannot make a legal argument against building it, obviously. The fact that a mosque was already there doesn’t seem to phase the detractors, and fine. Perhaps building a new monument to even one of the ideals held by the terrorists is tantamount to incitement and, at the very least, insensitive (does ‘turn the other cheek’ ring a bell, those who incredibly believe ours is a Christian nation?). I retort by saying sensitivity has never been America’s strong suit, and pretending as much is sillier than pretending any variation of tofu tastes like meat.

America missed its chance in this, the first real challenge to our understanding of self since that ugly day. Instead of greeting this small group of Muslims with vitriol, would not the more powerful statement be to greet them with open arms? It would have been a small but significant, symbolic act that proved we were unshaken by 9/11. It could have proved that our core tenets of tolerance and equal rights remained firmly rooted, and that our existing laws protecting private organizations, no matter their affiliation, remain as effective as they were before they were challenged. The terrorists would have been put firmly in their place, but instead, by merely making a big deal of it, they have been put on a pedestal. A pedestal for stoning perhaps, but isn’t that what we hate them for? The worst part is, it is already too late. Even if this very article is packed with somehow unrealized wisdom, and the country changes its opinion, the damage has been done. The memories of our fallen, the appropriately deified heroes who fought for the American way of life by giving their lives for others at the World Trade Center, has not been honored by your dissension, it has been fouled beyond recognition. Those men and women did not even know they were fighting Muslims in those long hours, they knew they were fighting for the American way of life from an as-then unknown enemy. How then can a Mosque at that location (it is 3 blocks away, just by the way) dishonor their memory? The very difficult truth we must now face is that they truly did die in vain.

It seems now that what these people did die for is an incomprehensible Islamophobia. It is evident in rhetorical and violent reactions to mosques across the country, in Koran burnings by Christian groups, and perhaps worst: the resurgence of this idea that our president is a secret Muslim. It is everywhere in the news, the growing number of Americans who believe such rubbish, and the pundits who masturbate their idiocy to a throbbing, veiny talking point. Who the hell cares? By reducing the office of the leader of the free world, with all of the religious freedom and tolerance it supposedly embraces, to his religious affiliation cheapens us all. Hate to break it to you: most of the greatest leaders of this side of the BCE/CE divide, not just the United States, were pretend Christians the whole time, just to appease your theocratic asses. Get over it. We have two unsolved domestic natural disasters, three wars, a financial death-throe, and countless civil rights indignities to discuss and solve without pushing the not-so-subtle government takeover campaign by Protestant Christianity. As long as calling someone Muslim is an insult, the growth of our democracy will be indefinitely halted. As long as we pretend that Islam is any more (or less) silly on a political scale than any other religion, we have failed.

No matter how fluid the document or what the condescendingly, subjectively idolized Founding Fathers intended, the Constitution and its amendments were never meant to be used as political bargaining chips or fodder for campaign advertisements. That applies to the first amendment, and no amount of politicisizing Islam with one hand, while upholding Christianity as a shining, tax-exempt example for our government with the other, can change that. Even if our glorious Liberal leaders like Harry Reid and Hilary Clinton want to waiver on this issue for the sake of securing the largest possible voter base, the hypocrisy is far too evident. Even if, as one GOP senator suggests, Islam is a political movement more than a religion, there are offices across the country from the less powerful Communist, Fascist, and Monarchical Parties from the mountains to the fucking prairies. If you’re going to subvert the constitution, get a freshman in high school to check your stymied rhetoric.

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Written by scumbagstyle

September 1, 2010 at 1:23 am

Perspective

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(Tour Arizona’s scenic Sonoran Desert! Resort pickup! Van adventures! Shoot jaywalkers!)

My fiancée and I have recently returned from a spectacular weekend spent with a recently transplanted buddy in Phoenix. It was my first visit to the land of John McCain, NBA Jam era Barclay, and leathery retirees so sick of people that they handily eschew Florida, where their grandchildren are more likely to visit. I am pleased to report the sprawling urban experiment, made of stubborn desert landscaping and held together with the glue of moral fortitude, still stands. I ‘report’ this because, if the spin mills are to be believed, that particular section of the Sonoran Desert has gone all Fertile Crescent with violent crime, kidnapping, and unabashedly brown births being carried out on any given street corner. Arizona lies on the front line of an invasion, and every day its people feel the burden that Obama refuses to shoulder. Indeed, what is it about the world’s deserts that American Presidents can’t seem to keep healthy of biblical crises? We exist in a nation divided, and a disproportionate length of fault line lies in the jurisdiction of an immigration law designed for a place that, if we are truly honest with ourselves, we have never even visited. In the internet age, it is easy to forget just how immense our country is, and just how misplaced outrage can get when dramatically different ways of life are happening a couple hundred miles away.

If the concern over SB 1070 is that all Arizonans – not just the differently colored ones – are at risk of a domino effect, stripping the state’s residents of their humanity and civil liberties – – if that is the concern, we can send that worry the way of the Native American infestation: those blankets have already been distributed. Judging by the shifting, terrified eyes of the average citizen of Phoenix, you would think they were all hiding an extended family of opera singing Jews under their floorboards. Paranoia is such a way of life down there, Howard Hughes could be mayor by virtue of being the calmest, sanest sonofabitch in residence. In the short span of our visit, we witnessed a Big Brother system so intricately conceived that any smiling neighbor could double as informant against you if you made the mistake of having any fun in their viscinity.

The bitch of it is, the city is not overrun by crime, by any standard. Aware of the region’s purported woes, I kept my eyes open, and saw no corner drug deals, no bullet holes in brick buildings, not even a person that drove faster than 5mph below the speed limit. No evidence of criminal enterprise either, like graffiti or so much as a foreboding dark alley. As my friend Dan, who moved to Scottsdale two months ago, explained it, doors to cars and homes were generally left unlocked, as the punishment for a crime as odious but innocuous as breaking and entering could easily be death by the guy who could legally blow a hole in you with his shot gun. Everywhere, the people have been scared into enforcing the laws of the land, for fear the hammer will fall upon them.

Crossing the Hoover Dam and braving the treacherous mountain passes (we learned on the return trip you could avoid those by taking the Laughlin route off the 93) necessitated we arrive in Scottsdale past midnight on Friday, so it was determined that the party should commence directly, lest we waste more time. Dan took us to a glorious dive bar he frequents, the fabled crumbling slice of Americana with tabletop shuffleboard, toilets last cleaned in ’86, and an ancient Big Game Hunter video cabinet comprising the majority of the furniture. It was perfect. Pitchers were cheap, the jukebox was only mostly country, and we were well into the swing of a southwestern night of quiet debauchery when the box-dyed, 45 going on 70 bartender ruined the evening by declaring the bar closed.

When I informed the woman I was nowhere near the level of inebriation I had hoped for, and requested perhaps one more beer, her eyes widened with the naked fear of converses during the Spanish Inquisition. “Get out, get out!” she cried, I shit you not, good reader. We left then, not inclined to witness just how close we came to seeing a middle aged woman crap her pants. We decided, instead, to procure a case of Bud at the Circle K and continue our shenanigans at home, out of eye- and earshot of the local Gestapo.

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Written by scumbagstyle

August 19, 2010 at 2:21 am

Don’t Get Surgery, Get an Agent

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Originally created for Scumbag Style.

turtles(The only difference between subject A and subject B is shitty parenting. Somebody get this kid a rat.)

A few months back, Scumbag Style brought to your attention a serious parenting fail involving an Indian family and their miracle spider child that could have grown up to be New Delhi’s most badass masked avenger. Barring that, she could have remained the living Hindu god the ignorant rurals had already made her, collecting riches and fame and endless cunnilingus from her personal harem. But no! They had to go and “fix” her, further homogenizing Eurasia into the blandest place that smells like shit on Earth, and not the comic book mecca of justice and cleavage it might have been, replete with onomatopoeic violence bubbles and grappling hooks.

500-dopplegangerThat was all not to mention the schooling she could potentially have given those Bollywood hussies, all tryin’ to use their inhuman sexiness to distract us from the fact their evolutionarily inferior number of extremities. But the surgery was a “success,” and now other parents are feeling empowered to deprive their children of their most basic and innocent dreams. Like this kid in China:

Dad Maimaiti Musai said: “We were told surgery wasn’t possible when he was very young so we waited. But the growth got bigger and harder and became like a turtle shell. (der SUN)

You cured your son of being a Ninja fucking Turtle? Can your deranged – – nay, diseased mind possibly comprehend the implications arising from the damage you have done? I – – I… fffffuuuuh… hold on.

Despite my clenched, grinding teeth of incredulous rage, I have forced myself to count to ten, and rub one out* for good, calm measure. I want to make myself perfectly clear, so there is no chance of misunderstanding. I was born in 1984. Between the ages of three and eleven or so, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were the most important thing to ever happen to the planet. My friends and I would put on bulbous green noses and plastic shells on our backs, on purpose, just so we could spaz out like an epileptic cat at a laser show in the middle of the street, and beat each other senseless with crappy carnival-prize swords. Every kid, at one point or another if not for a solid couple of decades, fantasizes about being a mutant turtle that knows karate and eats pizza for dinner every night and doesn’t look gay yelling, “Cowabunga!” before going serial killer on a super villain whose costume was sponsored by Ronco.

I’m not saying you’re the worst parent in the world, sir, but if you had a fan club, Andrea Yates would be president. This kid couldn’t have been closer to living the fuckin’ dream if he rolled around in mutagenic ooze with a Chinatown turtle up his ass, and you literally lanced the awesome off of him. Why?

“People bullied him and we were determined to end it. He is such a good and brave boy and he never complained. We are so glad that he is now on the mend.”

On the mend from evolution, maybe. Oh, boo hoo! He got teased for being different. When has that ever happened? I bet the thousands of socially awkward but otherwise physically sound kids that get teased around the world wish you could surgically remove their bullies, but they know nothing is coming. Some of the most important people in history were teased at school, because the other kids had nothing but their good looks and their Starter jackets to bolster their foundering self esteem. Billy Joel likes to recount how he used to get beat up for being a little Jewish piano playing pussy on Long Island, and look at him now. He’s a blubber-plated alcoholic who hasn’t put out a record in a decade, and he could ruin the back door of any chick within a hundred mile radius, and your mom, just so he can hold banging your mom over you. You don’t take adversity away from the kid because it makes him feel uncomfortable now. You make it a life lesson, help him develop some metaphorical callouses to match his gross real one. Wait until the mayor of Shanghai hands him the key to the city for foiling the plot of an evil super-genius with his bullet-proof back, and ask him if he’s worried about what the adult failure version of the kid that bullied him thinks.

Medics at Urumqi Military General Hospital say they have taken away the growth and replaced it with skin grafts from Hali’s scalp and legs.

Oh, that’s much better. He’ll definitely get teased less when he shows up for school in September with the head of a horror movie monster and the legs of a burn victim. At least with his disfiguring shell he had the potential to win some ladies over by saving the day. Not to mention, he could probably be the greatest break dancer of all time. The west has like three hundred talent shows that somehow pass as real entertainment that would kill to throw him a few million bucks to roll around on the ground smacking pajamaed street punks with his nunchucks on camera. If all else fails, you can make a damned decent wage on the freak show circuit nowadays. I’m just saying, parents tend to lack the foresight that people who are willing to exploit others’ kids have. It’s cool, you didn’t know. But what we should really be doing is collecting all the freaks that are born immediately after birth, setting up an kind of X-Men mansion school scenario, just in case they prove to be valuable freaks. Their parents might think they know best, but that’s all the genetic conditioning and hormones talking. We’ve already lost two potential super heroes – that we know about. Can the world afford another misstep?

* To this, in case you were wondering. If you need to go a good, philosophical, angry #3 that clears your mind of all concepts of evil and lets you, say, watch a Sarah Palin speech without rupturing an important blood vessel, this is well aged scotch of masturbatory fodder.

Written by scumbagstyle

August 11, 2010 at 12:21 am

Posted in Journalism

Show Me On The Continent Where He Touched You

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Originally created for Scumbag Style.

take your jesus(Except for you, Frenchies. You’ll probably like it.)

Catholicism is like the militant wing of that run-down Chinese buffet you see in every downtown. You gotta go once, just to say you’ve allowed the greasy, dyspeptic MSG to have it’s way with your blood vessels, that you’d savored the antithesis of nutrition at some point, temporary diarrhetic consequences be damned. Even aware of the innocent victims involved (I’m equating stray cats with altar boys, here, try to keep up), and even though you heard that only those with the stalwart stomach of a donkey have ever been known to leave there without puking, you had to do it. But as you take your place in the stall next to another novice of misadventures to call up Ralph O’Rourke on the big porcelain telephone, you swear to fucking Christ that, while patronizing the restaurant was indeed a life experience, you will never waste another Sunday there again.

That’s when the militant wing comes in. Catering platters in tow and armed with submachine guns of tellingly domestic origin, a team of highly trained, overpaid ninjas with a passion for bureaucracy stuffs Chow Mein and Buddha’s Super Special Delight down your unwilling throat at gunpoint. Then they make you watch as they try to run your credit card through a museum piece of a reader for a half an hour, because dinner isn’t free. While it’s technically food-rape, as you spend the long hours of the night on the can, you can’t help but feel a guilty party to kitten death, not to mention helping to maintain a business that should have made way for a K-Mart centuries ago.

Similarly, Western Civilization (read: Europe) has been trying to slowly and inconspicuously edge away from Christianity. Well, they must have triggered an alarm or an Indiana Jones-esque booby trap* or something, because the Pope found out, and he’s having none of it. Emperor Benedict is creating an office within the Vatican that would see to it that the West was “re-evangelized,” in order to combat “the process of secularization [that] has produced a serious crisis of the sense of the Christian faith and role of the Church.” In simpler terms, he’s telling mommy on Europe because, even though he brought the ball, they’ll only let him play deep right-field.

Studies have shown that readers willtolerate long articles better if there are lots of pictures, so here is the gayest statue of all time.

Studies have shown that readers willtolerate long articles better if there are lots of pictures, so here is the gayest statue of all time.

I go into gleeful epileptic fits when somebody has a plan to “-ize” any group of people, because that is going to be a shit show worthy of sweeps. Traditionally, that suffix doesn’t come after pleasant things, and the implication of force it lends to any phrase doesn’t help its case either. Outside of quirky ad campaigns, nobody ever threatens to “Snickerize” you, or “fellatio-ize” you. And even if they did, the understanding is that no matter how much you like adorable, sleeping kittens, this person has found a way to kill you with them, or at least alter your perceptions to the point where your faculties to trust in the overall goodness of humanity is as severely stunted as Glenn Beck’s sense of reality. No, “-ize” is usually used to verbify words like “sodom” and “paral.” Not to mention -izing is generally facilitated by a plan you wouldn’t be surprised to hear come out of Darth Vader’s mouth grill. Look:

The new pontifical council, he said, would “promote a renewed evangelization” in countries where the Church has long existed “but which are living a progressive secularization of society and a sort of ‘eclipse of the sense of God.'” (HuffPost)

NOBODY expects the Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples!

NOBODY expects the Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples!

See? Don’t like “-ize” so much when it follows “secular,” do you? Anyway, if I may translate that from “justifiable guidance” to “what he really means,” the Pope just announced his intention to food-rape you, weekly, with little circles of cardboard masquerading as crackers that he happens to believe is Jesus Humphry Christ hisself. If you think that interpretation is a tad harsh, I invite you to consider the rapist. The rapist’s mindset is that he acknowledges his victim is perfectly content not being beaten to a pulp and violated, he just does not see why that knowledge should apply to his actions. Similarly, the Pope is all, “Look at these dicks, getting on with their lives, even in the midst of a messy breakup they thought was over some time ago. What they need is a little Church violently inserted into their rectums, to remind them how awesome it is.” It’s basically the same sound philosophy of Africa’s ritual rapings of lesbians to make them like dick (here), only white people are doing it, so it’s OK.

Studies have also shown that Kelly Brooke's tits will make readers do anything.

Studies have also shown that Kelly Brooke's tits will make readers do just about anything.

Let’s get down to silk frillies here: Would the Jesus of the Gospels (remember those?) want his name to be mentioned in the same sentence as “rape?” See what you made me do? Twice? Once more and the Beeteljuice effect comes into play, and the two will forever be synonymous. So, you know, watch yourself.

So, Benny, who do you have pegged as Masturbator of Ceremonies for this jerkoff parade?

Monsignor Fisichella, [who] created a minor uproar last year when he defended Brazilian doctors who aborted the twin fetuses of a 9-year-old child who was raped by her stepfather. His call for mercy sparked heated criticism from some hardline conservative members of the Pontifical Academy who questioned his suitability to lead the institution.**

Yeah, that’s kind of a sticking point with those guys. Jesus would definitely want a 9 year-old to carry her incest rape baby to term, the resulting sterile, mentally handicapped abomination to decency and general aesthetics still being a person in His eyes – – Oh, shit! I did it again! Welp, can’t be taken back now. Britney should write a new song: “Whoops, I did it again. I summoned the visage of a Michael Keaton character to brutally mutilate the spiritual innocence of millions of believers… Oh, baby, baby.”

[Sidebar, Nevadan readership. If you found that scenario atrocious: you really need to go here.]

So, yes, these are the people planning a hostile takeover of Europe, with the silent approval of the UN and thousands of berkenstocked hippies in universities all over the world. There’s more mind-numb frosting on the cake that is that article, but… whatever, dude. Frankly, I’m tired. Just, don’t bother trying to -ize America. That would be like trying to do fecal graffiti in a public bathroom with no lights: Thousands of assholes have already got it covered.

*Heh, I said “booby.”
** Just a little peek at the SBS backstage area: In my head I am thinking way to hard about my own metaphors. Like, if the Catholics are like Chinese food-rapists, and Catholics don’t condone abortion, even under the circumstances of rape, would the Chinese food-rapists excommunicate you if you tried to cut out the resulting Moo Shoo Baby before you “take it to term”? Did I just blow your mind? No…

Written by scumbagstyle

August 11, 2010 at 12:17 am

Posted in Journalism

Good Plan

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Originally created for Scumbag Style.

(You’re just lucky they were even interested. Ew.)

My new favorite phrase is “corrective rape.” Coined (and here) in South Africa for a new vigilante justice practice, “it is committed by men behind the guise of trying to ‘cure’ lesbians of their sexual orientation.” Good plan, that. That’s like this one time, my mom tried to get me to like peas, so she shoved them down my throat while kicking me in the balls. I then wanted peas as often as I could get them. My family nickname became Peaslut, so great was my desire for peas.

It all started with an incident in April, a big deal of which as been made in the UK press, but is all but absent from the American papers, probably because our leaders are hoping to institute the practice here and don’t want it to get any bad publicity. So, this will be in Limey English. I’ll do my best to translate…

The partially clothed body of Eudy Simelane [the man pictured above], former star of South Africa’s acclaimed Banyana Banyana national female [wait what?] football squad [soccer team], was found in a creek… on the outskirts of Johannesburg [a meal of sausages and mashed potatoes]. Simelane had been gang-raped and brutally beaten before being stabbed 25 times in the face, chest and legs. As well as being one of South Africa’s best-known female footballers [something to do with cricket, I have to assume], Simelane was a voracious equality rights campaigners (sic) and one of the first women to live openly as a lesbian in Kwa Thema.

Ok, so that one didn’t quite come out the way they planned. As my mother learned with her first three children, they don’t eat a whole heck of a lot of peas when they’re dead. But they’re getting the hang of it now, and the movement is all due to the heroic sacrifice of Eudy Simelane and her fearless attackers.

Rapes are committed against lesbians daily now in Johannesburg, and all around South Africa. “Every day I am told that they… are going to rape me and after they rape me I’ll become a girl,” says Zakhe Sowello from Soweto. To which I retort: how will you know you don’t like dick until it is used as a weapon and shoved into all of your holes simultaneously and possibly 25 new ones these guys will make for you? They’re trying to help you cast the juju demons of homosexuality out of your soul, and all you can do is complain?

Either way, the people responsible for the reported average of 10 corrective rapes a week are rarely prosecuted or punished. “Support groups claim an increasingly aggressive and macho political environment is contributing to the inaction of the police over attacks on lesbians,” that women are considered sexual beings, and their status as lesbians is an “absolute affront” to this kind of masculinity. Can we send these guys just one laptop from the home of a straight, masculine man, aged 18-40? Guaranteed, it is jam packed with footage of lesbian activity that these men choose to watch voluntarily. Well, one guy started punching the screen and calling the ladies infidels, but he didn’t really get the point, or a new computer. Point is, maybe if they saw how beautiful and filthy lesbian sex could be, they’d keep their dicks out of the equation for the sake of preservation rather than destruction. I challenge pornographers around the world to donate copies of their barely legal, first time lesbian films to South African authorities. But, send them here first, so we can test them for effectiveness.

Still, something doesn’t add up. Every man I know likes to hear of, or in the happiest of circumstances, to see two chicks bumpin’ cooches. There’s got to be something else at work here. “One man roared with laughter as he said lesbians should be ‘whipped.’ ‘There is no mention of lesbians in the bible,’ he said.” Something. Can’t put my finger on it.

Written by scumbagstyle

August 8, 2010 at 2:06 am

Posted in Journalism