'Cruelty-free' sex: Rejecting meat-eaters as sexual partners

First, I will refer you to the University of Canterbury's (*breath*) National Report on the Perspectives and Experiences of Vegetarians and Other Ethical Consumers.

"Ethical Consumers." I like that one.

Based on responses to the survey around which the authors framed this report, one of the authors coined the term "vegansexual" to refer to "people who do not eat any meat or animal products, and who choose not to be sexually intimate with non-vegan partners." In other words, a vegansexual is a vegan who only fucks other vegans.

Here are some vegansexual quotes (and my comments on them) that made their way into the report:

I believe we are what we consume, so I really struggle with body fluids, especially sexually. [As do I, friend; that's why I get uneasy whenever my date orders the tuna melt.]

I would not want to be intimate with someone whose body is literally made up from the bodies of others who have died for their sustenance. ["Jesus, George, it's a miracle I was even born!"]

I couldn't think of kissing lips that allow dead animal pieces to pass between them. [Lucky for you, all you have to kiss and/or pass through your lips to make me happy is my very much alive, and verily throbbing member.]

I imagine that most vegansexuals must be women; after all, the average man can't afford to be this discriminatory. Sure, there are plenty of chicks that I can't fucking stand*, but that just gives me more of a reason to donkey punch them once I've got them in the doghouse. This includes every nubile, young PETA skank who decides that getting naked is an effective means of protesting anything.

Yes, Meredith, I believe that's my final answer. Donkey punches for all. It's the anti-"cruelty-free sex." Boo ya.

*The short list: career driven women, the kind that want two or fewer children, politically outspoken women, the ones who fashion themselves as the "intellectual type," sloppy women, "sexually liberated" women, the ones who treat misogyny as if it were a concrete reality

Yes Yes Yes pt. 2

This is just as good as the last one.

Yes Yes Yes

I can't stop watching this....

What is the most annoying phrase in the English language?

That's the question posed by the Telegraph (UK). There are several hundred responses so far (many of the "stupid Americans" variety, of course).

Here's a funny one:

'No way Hose'

I hear this frequently from my Son and his circle of friends. Just who is Hose and what exactly is it that he shouldn't do?

Personally, the one I can't stand is "going forward" instead of "in the future." As in "Going forward, we want this to be as smooth a process as possible," or "Let's just use the booked volumes in our calculations going forward." Every boss in my group uses that phrase at least once a conversation. Get them all together in a meeting and it becomes the ninth circle of hell.

Oh yeah, the other one I can't stand is when people use "[name] and I" as captions for pictures in their online albums. It's "[name] and ME." If you were alone in the picture, would you caption it "I?" Of course not, you fucking tard.

What else is annoying?

Well lo and behold

Perhaps my apocalyptic grumblings earlier this week were a bit premature; apparently I have access to the Blogger site again. Was this only a temporary outage, or am I back to stay now? Who's to say?

Regardless, the diatribes must resume.

Today's subject matter is especially barfworthy: the self proclaimed "new urban parent." Yes, they exist, and they are rallying and getting vocal. As Gawker so succinctly puts it, "a generation of self-consumed hipsters have suddenly discovered parenthood, and we'll be forced to listen to them for years on end." God bless it.

Do you want to see what some new urban parent bloggers look like? Good.




That's right, they are all young and conservative. Or, errr, uh, old and basking in their irony and hipness. And how does it happen that people so self-obsessed finally decide to procreate? Well, the obvious answer is that procreation is the simplest method of ensuring self-perpetuation, paradoxically making it the perfect solution for the those primarily concerned with preserving themselves and their own image. I've got a better one, though.

Think of a hipster as living on the supergiant branch of the H-R Diagram. After he has burned through the natural supply of self-centeredness in his core (probably around age 36), it begins to collapse. Sufficiently high temperature and pressure are achieved so that heavier elements - sacrifice, concern, empathy etc. - are then produced via fusion, both in and around the core. The heaviest of elements (caritas) now completely occupies the core.

Something so foreign to the hipster is unstable, however. Eventually, the core becomes so massive that it completely collapses under its own gravity. The outer layers crash inward, reach a critical density, then bounce back out in a spectacular explosion. The hipster is now a type 2 supernova, and has just gloriously discharged all his elements - good, bad, and ugly. And this is the stuff of which ironic babies are made. (Good gravy, that was forced.)

If you feel like torturing yourself, you can read their blogs. Honestly, you guys should thank me that I spare you the mundanities that are the details of childrearing. Instincts really aren't that fucking interesting, and they're anything but hip.

This is the end

Well, dear friends, the powers that be at my workplace finally did it; they decided to apply the corporate firewall to all things Blogger. Of course, because I do 100% of my posting from my place of work, the practical end of their actions is a lack of my access to the site for posting purposes. I'm still pondering possible consequences.

Choices so far:

1) The bog is finished from my end.
2) I continue to write at work, email to myself, then post when I get home.
3) I continue to post at work via blogger's email posting apparatus (without pictures, youtube vids, formatting, etc.).

Stay tuned for my final decision, but things are looking bleak.

Prudence is a cardinal virtue; the Chronicle never got the memo

What the hell was the Chronicle THINKING when it published the names of all HISD teachers who received a bonus this year, as well as the amount each person received?!?

Among teachers there is obvious dissatisfaction with the performance measures (read: TAKS-related metrics) used to distribute the monies, and the newspaper had to be aware that it would incite resentment at minimum and riot at worst by making public the names of those who worked hard enough(!) to meet the school disctrict's "standards."

A cynical man would suspect that there is much more to this disclosure of information than a simple exercise in the Freedom of Information Act.

BUT, all that said, this talk of a teacher walkout next week makes me want to kill myself. People are awesome.

Read a lot more here and here, and see the list here.

It's like watching a fucking train wreck.

Feast of my asshole, starring Dia-fucking-rrhea

Last week I watched a movie that was so bad, I still haven't gotten over it. Actually, that's a lie. I couldn't even watch the entire thing; I only made it through about 20 minutes or so before I had to shut the fucker off. It was without a doubt, the most atrocious thing I've ever laid eyes on. I speak of Feast. This was the first movie I have rented from Netflix that actually compelled me to leave a review for it. It is that fucking terrible.

As most of you probably know, I get an instant hard-on for horror-comedy. I fucking love it, in all its self-conscious, self-reflexive, witty glory. I think I've probably jerked off to Tremors, Evil Dead 2, The Blob, and Critters at least 30 times each in my lifetime. And the genre is far from dead - have you seen Slither yet? It's textbook. However, though Netflix and many of its civilian reviewers billed Feast as comedy horror in the strain of Shaun of the Dead, etc., it most certainly is not.

What it is is pure, unadulterated ass-piss. The 20 minutes I saw was an endless series of cliches, all stitched together with miserably, miserably failed humor, totally devoid of any original content. Not only that, but I watched it when I was stoned, so I was hyper-perceptive of the high school one-act play level acting and the abyssmal production value.

That's right, it's not even entertaining when you're high.

I don't know why it angers me so much that this movie even exists, but it really makes me want to pull the heads off kittens. This is a week later, for fuck's sake, and I still find myself flashing back to the god-awful mess I witnessed after an innocent night of imbibing. I imagine this is the closest I will ever be in my life to being raped. I feel violated, and I'm afraid I may be scarred for life.

I want to get every last soul involved with the making of this abomination and force them to Clockwork Orange it in an old, abandoned theater for the rest of their lives. I want them to suffer the hell that they have created and unleashed upon the earth and mankind for the rest of their waking days.

Cock. Balls.

Read a more detailed (and more level-headed) approach to the suckitude here.

Merrill Hoge is clairvoyant

What a fucking tard.

Via the 'Spin.

When the light is green, the trap is clean

I was flickin' through the channels last night when something on Hannity & Colmes caught my eye. (An aside: The very thought of Hannity & Colmes makes me sick. Even just now, a little bit of puke came up. I swallowed it back down, though.) What made me stop and pay attention was this:

It's Green Card energy drink! It's marketed to Mexicans who are about to cross the border! Look closely at the tagline, and the logo. That's funny. Really.

The designer and marketer, Jeff Weiss, was on the show to promote it. H&C took the all too predictible line of affront and indignation, and pretty much spent 7 straight minutes railing the guy for everything from aiding and abetting, to exploitation, to supporting terror. But good ol' Jeffy took it all on the chin. And why whouldn't he? His product was getting free exposure - mission accomplished!

That this drink will be marketed to illegal immigrants is a total front. Pedro stops at 7-11 to buy a Green Card on his way to the border, much like Suzie buys a Starbucks on the way to work? Come on, the story's ludicrous. H&C are such fucking meatheads.

The truth is that the kiddies are a major constituent of energy drink consumers as a whole, and so contribute substantially to what is a multi-billion dollar a year industry. Drink companies have responded to this nugget of marketing research gold, and are now scrambling to generate teen-attractive product.

The problem is getting noticed in the wake of an explosion of new brand names; 500+ have been launched in 2006 alone. The effect has been a game of literally nominal oneupsmanship. Hence the existence such clever nomenclature as Cocaine, Crunk, Pimp Juice, Retard Strength(!), and now, Green Card. (Make sure you read the title of Retard Strength website. Great throwback!)

Of course, since the only way I'll drink an energy drink is if you drop a shot of booze into it first, all this means nothing to me, other than that I get to laugh at funny brand names and have something to post about for the day.

Two local things

Yesterday, the Houston City Council voted 13-2 to extend its indoor smoking ban to virtually all bars.

Fuck that shit.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck thaaaaaaaaaaat shiiiiiiit.

You don't want to smell like an ashtray when you get home at 2:30 in the damn morning? Grow a pair, you fucking pussy. Unless you're sleeping in your fucking clothes, what the fuck does it matter? Besides, that girl you wanna take home and fuck is drunk enough that she doesn't give a rat's fucking ass what the shit you smell like. Fuckface.

Oh, what's that? You're tired of breathing in the toxic fumes of my secondhand smoke? Newsflash, asshole: you live in fucking Houston. Toxic fumes are a part of your existence. Unless you are NOT breathing between the hours of 3 and 7 every evening, I can pretty much guarantee that your pansy ass little lungs are taking way more of a beating from car exhaust and refinery emmissions than from my fucking 15 cigarettes I smoke around you once a week. Shitscum.

Hey, you, slutbag waitress. Yeah, you. Listen to me. You work in a fucking bar. You were well aware of what that would entail when you signed on for the job. Stop pretending that the whole world revolves around your pathetic fucking miserable life and trying to mold it that way. Bar culture is well established and proud, and was getting along just fine until you decided that your fucking health concerns were relevant. Guess what? They're not. Workers' rights my fucking ass. If you don't like secondhand smoke and still wanna work at night, I think Taco C is hiring. Whore.

Fucking dammit cockshit motherassfucker.

Alright, I'm over it.

The other thing is this. Last Friday, Two Gallants played at Walter's on Washington. The place is in a residential area, and there was a noise complaint, so a beat cop showed up to get them to turn down. The details are still in dispute, depending on whose story you hear (obviously), but I think its probably a fair bet that the officer didn't exactly handle the situation diplomatically. A melee ensued, which included multiple taser discharges, and four arrests. Full story.

NOW, all that said, let's review Chris Rock's "How Not to Get Your Ass Kicked by the Police":

Step 1: Obey The Law
Step 2: Use Common Sense
Step 3: Stop Immediately
Step 4: Turn That Shit Off
Step 5: Be Polite
Step 6: Shut The Fuck Up

So simple, yet so effective.

Roll tape.







Hmmm, seems like there was a massive failure to follow ANY of the steps here.

Listen, kids. When dealing with an officer of the law, you are wrong. Period. C'est la Vie. Don't try to argue with him, and for God's sake don't get in his fucking grill. Just say "yes sir" and "no sir" until he leaves you alone, or realizes that you are lying and arrests you. The sooner you internalize this, the happier and less-angst ridden you will be.

Don't be fooled by the pseudo-intellectuals who think that...

As long as anyone is placed in a position of power over others, abuses like this will continue to be the norm. The problem isn't "one bad cop," or even the police system in general - this is a result of hierarchy itself. Such violence is inherent to any hierarchical system, whether it's the police, racism, government, an abusive husband, or the bosses at our workplaces. As long as such positions of authority continue to exist, they will continue to be exploited, and real democracy and equality will remain no more than a mythology that these authorities assure us is true.

Yes, unfortunately, there really are assclowns who still believe this dribble. And yes, this person was actually willing to put his intellectual retardation on public display by posting it to a Chron.com blog. Other than pubescent sentiment, I've never been able to pinpoint what exactly causes this sort of irrational phobia of authority, but you would think that people would have to outgrow it at some point if they want to function in civil society.

Newsflash to people like this: your revolution is over; the bums will always lose.

Step 1: Obey The Law
Step 2: Use Common Sense
Step 3: Stop Immediately
Step 4: Turn That Shit Off
Step 5: Be Polite
Step 6: Shut The Fuck Up

It's easy as pie.

Pretty annoying

Remember last year when that 85 year old man tried to kick Ken's ass after the ULa-La game because he and Michelle and his brother "ruined the game for a lot of people" by standing up and cheering? Well this is the same thing, only different.

Tennessee fan Victoria Caldwell said she was speechless after receiving a call from the UT Athletic Department on Thursday. Fans seated near her in Neyland Stadium would have a hard time believing that. Caldwell, a first-time season ticket holder, said UT's Bill Higdon called her at home and said other fans had complained about her. Their complaint? She cheers too much.

After seeing the video evidence, it's fair to say that the fans seated around her had a point.

I wouldn't have snitched to the AD, mind you, but I don't think throwing an empty flask at the back of her head would've been totally out of the question.

There's a picture of her in the article, btw. On second thought, she's definitely fair game.

--------------------

The 13 Day Bender

Here's the movie list for my horror marathon. If my finger arithmetic serves me correctly, I'll need to start on Thursday to end on Halloween. Be on the lookout starting then.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
Halloween
The Last House on the Left
The Exorcist
The Omen
The Shining
Friday the 13th
Bride of Frankenstein
Dracula
A Nightmare on Elm Street
Poltergeist
Pet Sematary
Suspiria

The whole thing is dependent each movie's availability on Netflix, and several of these are in demand right around now, so neither the order nor the list itself is set in stone. This means that I'm still taking suggestions, so feel free.

Leinart pulls a me!

Only I never got to nail Paris Hilton before I graduated. Or make millions of dollars afterwards. Or, well, win at anything while I was in school.

See for yourself - nature wins again!

Lazy bastards

I'm of the firm belief that the purpose of an escalator is to expedite the process of moving up or down floors, much like the moving track at the airport. Healthy humans who simply plant their fat asses on them and then don't budge, managing to simultaneously be lazy as fuck and block the flow of traffic, should kill themselves.

Also, this is totally non sequitur, but you should read it.

Dreher is always very insightful.

unintended self-reflexitivty in a political movie =? the ultimate irony

At some point in Syriana, it is mentioned that a preferred method of torture implemented by the Chinese against the Falun Gong is the "twisting arm and putting face in feces" technique.

After watching the movie and reading all the gushing "blood for oil" reviews, I am convinced that this is the preferred method of the schizophrenic left against the general populace as well.

Dumb

Rod Dreher and the Crunchy Cons excepted, why are the granola types always so eager to make themselves look like total retards?

Whole Foods bans sale of live lobsters.

Because a species that is less than an evolutionary hop, skip, and a jump away from its Cambrian ancestors deserves the same loving affection as, say, a newborn.