Tuesday, August 30, 2011

The Timelessness of Grocery Stores is Fucking Satanic

Just heard this one at Super Saver.  And no where else in all these years if memory serves.

Yeah, Seems about Right.

ung Test Results

Your type is: INFP

INFP - "Questor". High capacity for caring. Emotional face to the world. High sense of honor derived from internal values. 4.4% of total population. 

creative, smart, idealist, loner, attracted to sad things, disorganized, avoidant, can be overwhelmed by unpleasant feelings, prone to quitting, prone to feelings of loneliness, ambivalent of the rules, solitary, daydreams about people to maintain a sense of closeness, focus on fantasies, acts without planning, low self confidence, emotionally moody, can feel defective, prone to lateness, likes esoteric things, wounded at the core, feels shame, frequently losing things, prone to sadness, prone to dreaming about a rescuer, disorderly, observer, easily distracted, does not like crowds, can act without thinking, private, can feel uncomfortable around others, familiar with the darkside, hermit, more likely to support marijuana legalization, can sabotage self, likes the rain, sometimes can't control fearful thoughts, prone to crying, prone to regret, attracted to the counter culture, can be submissive, prone to feeling discouraged, frequently second guesses self, not punctual, not always prepared, can feel victimized, prone to confusion, prone to irresponsibility, can be pessimistic

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The Downhill of Summer is 90's Rock season

Libya Ctd.


Somehow I knew, with the same instinct by which a mindless infant knows its mother, that yes, of course Qaddafi had an epic monument to masturbation in his front yard.  

Monday, August 22, 2011

In Other News

I was in O Rourke's last night flipping through 'The Reader' over a Bloody Mary, winding down from the weekend.   That one hit wonder 'Big Country' was playing on the jukebox. Some jackass from the suburbs of Houston, where the women who work at Walgreen's are apparently achingly beautiful, asked me if this was as gay as it gets.  I told him I've seen gayer.  He asked me if I did drugs and I told him I dabbled.  He made a shootup gesture with his left arm and said he had eight bucks if I'd chip in.  I declined.  He asked if I was in a band and I said no.  Then he asked, 'well why are you here?  Are you gay or what?'   Where he got the idea that patrons of O'Rourke's are only either  gay or in a band, who knows?

To the Libyan Transistional Government

I, Joshua D. Beran, do respectfully petition you to first of all allow Saif-al Islam Ghadaffi to live, as I have
been holding out hope for a C+C Music Factory reunion tour for many years now.  

Secondly, though we've all noticed that you seem to be a bit angry at the old man himself. I beg of you to allow Muammar to go free into a peaceful and comfortable exile, and that most importantly he be granted an unlimited line of credit for the sake of maintaining his wardrobe.


I'm sure you'd agree it would be tragic if such beautiful, magnificent swagger like this were allowed to decay.  And we all know that there's more than enough tragedy in this world.    

Sunday, August 21, 2011

X Files the Musical

Good job to the Colonel Mustard troop on a great show.  I'll forgive the sometimes dragging dialogue and overall 'Ring of the Nibelung' level length.  And I'm not even being sarcastic by saying that.  It was grand. 

Congrats West Memphis 3


Convicted eighteen years ago for the savage murder of three young boys.  Prosecutors claimed they had done the act as a satanic sacrifice and they were convicted chiefly on the basis of liking heavy metal and thus coming across as trouble making weirdos to the good Christian folk of West Memphis, Ark.  Sacrificed so that the people of this town and hundreds of others could go on believing that there was such a thing as Satanism, such a thing as Satanic sacrifice, and that they were anything more than willfully gullible morons for believing such tripe.  Three men who had their youths stolen from them, so that good Christian folk could assure themselves that deviation from their oppressive norms could only possibly be inspired by the blackest evil.

It is a disgrace that these men were convicted on fantasy evidence, and almost as much of a disgrace that they were forced to plead guilty and agree to plead guilty and agree not to sue the state in order to gain release.  The only other possible path to freedom was a new trial, in which they would have to face another jury of good Christian Arkansas folk, and ask them to accept the the judgment of their peers and by extension their own  was no more godly or less fallible than anyone else's.  This was a gamble that the WM 3 had already taken and lost before.  Of course they didn't take it again.

It's a case that bears some similarity to that of Cameron Todd Willingham.  A Texas man who was executed for the burning  murder of his children in 2004 in spite of, in all likelihood, being innocent.  That is unless you believe in forensic evidence of arson that turned out to be made up voodoo; or that, more importantly, a petty criminal who had a skull tattoo and liked loud rock music is automatically guilty of whatever he is accused of.  Willingham could of had his sentence commuted to life, if he had plead guilty, but he refused.  He fought the charge right until the end, but it was futile.  The good people of Texas are more manly and righteous than we are, after all.  And governor Rick Perry, fresh new hot contender for the presidency, is too heroically anti-murder to imagine there being any such thing as a wrongfully convicted man.  

Everyone knows, after all, that morality has nothing to do with reason or compassion.  Being good is a matter of being strong unyielding and brave and nothing more.  And everyone knows that we true Americans are demigods, and that heroic blood-knights in the war against Satan is the minimum standard of who we must be.
Broken eggs to make an omelet; etc. etc.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

In Sports News, it Seems an Auld Enemy is in Trouble

Miami Hurricane football players have apparently been receiving cash, yachts, and hookers, among other things.  The source cited in the link mocks them for the latter,   "FOOTBALL PLAYERS SO LAME THEY NEEDED TO PAY FOR SEX?" and while I would love to join in celebrating our Huskers moral superiority over those uppity.... (Oh sorry, arrogant thugs with no class is what we're calling them nowadays isn't it?)  Fairness compels me to point out that Miami is not Lincoln, Nebraska, where women threw themselves at Bill Callihans Tecmo defenders just because they were bored.  Miami is a world city, and if the college football team is going through a mediocre spell there are plenty of other eligible bachlors for women to choose from, like pastel wearing cops, or operatically violent drug lords, or mediocre Miami Dolphins for that matter. 
Let us also be clear that there is such a thing as woman that any hetero man would sincerely want to pay for sex with.  Eliot Spitzer didn't get caught with some Bronx chickenhead, after all.  There are hookers. 

And there are Professional Sex Workers. 

You know you would.  What I'm saying here is that the opportunity to crow at the source of so much pain in our state is no excuse to be a fucking hater.  Understand? 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

There's This Hefty Woman I Know

She wears a Fubu baseball jersey and a tank top that's a tad too small for her.  She'll go on networking sites and loudly point out men she's fucked to people who had been strangers to these men, and also loudly comments on their performance.  Her hair is always badly kempt. 

I find her sort of alluring in ways I comprehend no better than you. 

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Finally Saw 'Der Untergang' in Whole

Watch the dinner scene here, starting about 5:50 until Hitler's latest freak out.  Notice the normality of it.  I'm sure you've heard about the banality of evil a time or two but still;  a nice civilized dinner.  The patriarch sits at the head of the table and directs conversation.  Think of how those who don't feel comfortable with doubt or peering too far into things would accept what he has to say matter-of-factly, dutifully.  'You know Myrtle, I've never allowed myself to feel compassion, and you know wild apes just kill all the weirdos among themselves.  Reckon ain't that what we should be doing?'

I'm reminded of something from my childhood, in the nineties the NBC affiliate in North Platte would show a daily syndicated short from Focus on the Family between the national and local news.  James Dobson himself, smiling in his nice fatherly suit,  speaking in a soft friendly voice, and giving blandly, generically authoritarian advice for raising children along the lines of 'have dinner together'.


These broadcasts to the general rural American public mentioned nothing about the time Dobson flogged his pet dachshund with a belt to force it to obey an arbritary command.  or his belief that children will grow up to be criminals unless they are treated the same way.     Nor did Dobson ever use one of these shorts to suggest that fathers and sons shower together, so that Junior can gaze upon Dads adult-sized penis,  and learn to respect the  awe-inspiring power of the penis so that he doesn't grow up to be gay.    Yes, really.    No, just this old, wise seeming and perfectly normal man, with only the slight hint of a cracked accent, giving common sense advice to millions of rural homes in the the knowledge that a small percentage would buy his humble books, (imploring them to be brave warriors against feminists and queers), and his humble newsletter, (Telling them of the latest outrage from pro-abortion radicals.)  All in the quiet certainty that his profits would be ample, and that he would never have to get his suit dirty doing any real work out there among the damned.

Sorry for the mild Godwin here, it was just a fancy I had. 

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Heartland Values

I have a cousin who was going to get married in September.  It's been postponed after her boyfriend saw her friend-hugging another man, broke the windshield on his own truck, and gave her several bruises on her arm while trying to drag her away. 

They don't know if the wedding is still on or not.  Which is to say, they don't know that the wedding is definitely not on.  My mother, lashed out at the person who called the cops on the boyfriend, wondered out loud why she seemed to object to my cousin's happiness, why she disproved of her boyfriends just because they were, respectfully; an absentee father and a violent abuser.

It might seem obvious to any coastal elites reading this that this relationship must end immediately.  But you don't understand.  We're not godless feminist degenerates like you.  We have values, you see. We know that women are supposed to be married to a strong man.  That a woman who has a kid from someone else is damaged goods and should be grateful for whoever will have her.  We beat our women because we're morally superior to you.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

The Storm

I must say, it the amount of havoc it caused was just short of interesting here in Lincoln.  Maybe if power had been knocked out downtown...., what a cocktease. 

I did get invited out of the hail by some good old boys who live next to the chop shop between Dudley and Y on 22nd.  We drank Natty Ice and watched Reality shows on A & E.  The oldest one there, Dave, sixty, talked about the nice house he sold to pay for his and his wife's meth habit.  He's been clean for five years, save for his cigarettes and daily bottle of vodka.  He spoke of how the neighborhood was being ruined by 'nig-nogs', young African kids who weren't old enough to be called, well you know.    A grand old time.  And that show about Cajun alligator hunters, genuinely interesting, I must say. 

Thursday, August 4, 2011

David Dees

Old fashioned fascism and antisemitism combined with Coast-to-Coast style poly-quackery all delivered in a pornographically lurid visual style.  An internet classic if there ever was one.  http://www.sl-webs.com/deesillustration/home.asp 

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Last Night

A man downtown told me he had 'just had the best fucking date I've had in years bro'.  Then we high-fived. 

The thing of it is, he was going home alone from the best fucking date he had had in years.