Saturday, December 27, 2008

South Florida or Bust

In a couple hours, I'm leaving with my best friend from childhood, Steve and his friend from undergrad (also named Steve) to embark on our adventure to:

1. camp and kayak in the Florida keys, my old stomping ground.
2. ring in the new year at a swanky nightclub in South Beach
3. go to the Orange Bowl!

I planned the trip and did all of our booking. We're getting away with 5 nights in south florida for right over 200 bucks. Not bad, eh? Camping saves money! It's hella more fun than a hotel too.

We're staying on Boca Chita Key, an island in the northern keys accessible only by boat. No electricity, fresh water, completely uninhabited. There are crocs, coral snakes AND alligators, too! They won't come near us though, for I am armed with my sharp-ass buck knife and sweet-ass cowboy beach hat. When I wear that hat, I suddenly become badder than Chuck Norris. True story.

I'm actually more hyped for the camping than I am for the rest of the trip. I think I just need some RnR. However, New Years will be nuts. My boy T.I. is hosting a New Year's party in South Beach that we might try to get into. We're also going to a tailgate party with Lil' wayne. Knowing that I'm gonna be in the same city as these two for New Year's Eve, how will I possibly return to Kentucky WITHOUT getting knocked up?!?!?!

Hometown x-mas

It's been fabulous having a couple days to visit family, but more than 3 days of it is all I can handle. It's not my family, or our home, or much of anything we can control. I love my family dearly, I grew up in a nice home, and it's all quite comfortable. However, it's stuck in BFE: no shopping, few educated people, very few people I actually wanna see, etc. It's more depressing than anything really. Everyone stays in this shitty town, hangs out at wal-mart, gets fat and lives off the government. Three things I will never do. So, I have very little in common with anyone around this town.

Another crappy thing: People who never gave a shit about me when I was a lanky art chick suddenly care about what I'm doing, and ask about my accomplishments. What motivates them to do this? Not the sincere interest in my life and well-being, like one might have for a close friend, but instead their curiosity. "Is this person better off than I am? Are they making more money? Are they more successful?" Forget being genuine and compassionate, so many people I've run into have asked only to size-up themselves. It's super-crappy. So, I've decided that next time I come home, I'm not talking about writing or anything like that. I think by then I might be a janitor or a stripper. Just to give others that validation they so desperately need. I am a do-gooder.

Let's end on a not-crappy note: My parents are awesome and we never have a bad time together. We drank my home made beer, told stories, jokes, etc. and had a ball. They love my insignificant anecdotes and historical facts, which I, in turn, love. Some unforgettable quotes (somewhat explanatory of how I turned out to be a libertarian):

"Fox news is the only reliable, fair and unbiased news station on television." -my father, unfortunately.

"Jesus was a pot head. That's how he did all of that healing. The Apostles, they were just groupies, man." -my mother, in our conversation about the age-old use of medicinal marijuana and hallucinogens as part of the spiritual rites of many ancient cultures.

Somehow, I ended up right in the middle. Funny how things work out, eh?

astro turf!

As a huge fan of both David Bowie AND Flight of the Conchords, it doesn't get much better than episode 6 from season one, "Bowie":

(this is my fav clip from the episode)

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Britney: Is it possible to time travel speed?



I just remembered this and decided it was awesome enough to watch again and post. I fuckin' love Brit. We would kick it, if she and I knew each other. I already have several friends that I keep around for their quotability (among other shining attributes, of course) and Britney is most certainly quotable.

Does my accent get this thick when I get crunk?

PBnJ with a

PBnJ with a

Merry Christmas from Cheech and Chong

Alvin and the Chipmunks sing the Reefer Song

Hitler needed a Mac?

Sotheby's fires employees in the wake of our waning economy

This Sucks.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Thursday, December 11, 2008

I wanted to do hood rat stuff with my friend!



His granny doesn't just want to "whip his behind." In reality, she wants to beat the living shit out of this little brat.

burger bitch

Burger King in the hood "ran out" of Whoppers one day, and recorded everyone's reaction to the sad news. One of the best videos I've seen all week!

Monday, December 8, 2008

Friday, December 5, 2008

Alice on Acid



and

This guy can kick himself in the nuts!

Skateboarding Dog

I am a sucker for dogs like this:

another idiot falling

My heart goes out to this drunk boy:

One of the best falls of 2008



Every time you see it, it's funnier! Watch this fat chick fall on her ass.

Ancient Smoke

Below is an abstract from possibly one of the most awesome journal articles I have ever read (From the Journal of Experimental Botany59, no. 15 pp. 4171-4182):

"The Yanghai Tombs near Turpan, Xinjiang-Uighur Autonomous Region, China have recently been excavated to reveal the 2700-year-old grave of a Caucasoid shaman whose accoutrements included a large cache of cannabis, superbly preserved by climatic and burial conditions. A multidisciplinary international team demonstrated through botanical examination, phytochemical investigation, and genetic deoxyribonucleic acid analysis by polymerase chain reaction that this material contained tetrahydrocannabinol, the psychoactive component of cannabis, its oxidative degradation product, cannabinol, other metabolites, and its synthetic enzyme, tetrahydrocannabinolic acid synthase, as well as a novel genetic variant with two single nucleotide polymorphisms. The cannabis was presumably employed by this culture as a medicinal or psychoactive agent, or an aid to divination. To our knowledge, these investigations provide the oldest documentation of cannabis as a pharmacologically active agent, and contribute to the medical and archaeological record of this pre-Silk Road culture."

2,700 years, and they continue to keep it from us? That's like banning sex for pleasure.

A fun article on this from MSNBC can be found here.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Ghetto Ghaz

I can't get enough of this fat Iraqi kid - he's an O.G. He goes nowhere unless he rolls at least 6 deep. He doesn't even need a gun.

A real hustla. Check it out:



And perhaps the most appropriate song:

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

nicknames

a comprehensive list of nicknames and things people called me, collected from my facebook profile postings on my 24th birthday:
Miss Chicken
Roommate (duh)
morg
morgo
morgonzola
morgana
morgballs
big sis
coach
rockstar
crack head

variations on my name are quite popular...it's like I'm a verb, being conjugated. I'm the verb, "to morg". Exactly what kinda action would that be?

Friday, November 14, 2008

Chubby asian gamer from craigslist seeks single, female asian gamer for long-term relationship

Minnie found this gem on craigslist, and I almost peed my pants reading it - certainly, the reader of the personal ad is provided with an amazing visual...
---------------------------

INTELLIGENT, cultured, 22y/o wm seeking Asian women (pref. Nihonese)

Reply to:
Date: 2008-10-16, 3:29AM
Hello ladies of the internet!

I am here today, as are you, to find the love of my life ideally. Now, I am an introspective and reflective man so over my life I've come to realise exactly what I'm looking for in my ideal woman.

Personally, I am 22 years old, my name is Perseus, I am attending U of T in the final year of my Engineering degree, and I am a little on the chubby side. I am a dedicated Green party voter and staunchly opposed to the Conversative hordes dashing themselves against the impregnable Liberal/NDP/Green keep of our fine enlightened city. I am fond of discussing philosophy and the meaning of life over a glass of wine in the 'even. As hobbies go, I am an avid gamer and enjoy delving into the myriad artistic realities of animé (the origin of my affinity for Asian culture, which is frankly superior).

You MUST fulfill the following requirements:
- Asian
- Woman
- Aged NO MORE THAN 23
- - and NO LESS THAN 16
- Petite build. Ideally no more than 115 lbs.
- - but no 'Paris Hilton' bulimics please! I like my women with some meat on them.
- Like sushi, animé, and video games.

BONUSES include:
- Japanese heritage
- Large collection of animé and manga
- Glasses
- Interest in cosplay and roleplaying
- Traditional Ladies' education

I must stress again that this is for a SERIOUS, long term relationship. Not some 'fling' as though I were a boy toy to be tossed aside.

Petrarch: instigator of ermine iconography

There are many things in this world I love and appreciate, but near the top of the list you could find ferrets and classical literature. Weird, I know. (What's even more strange is the fact that I'm dedicating my thesis to my wee pet Maximus and his weasel cousins. Therefore, I've been reading tons on the history of weasels, looking at a retarded number of Medieval and Renaissance images that include weasels and learning an absurd amount of weasel facts. Basically, my research is just another frivolous expenditure of my time.)

At any rate, in my research I found a lovely poem by one of my favorite classical poets, Petrarch. It is the precedent for the ideas which the ermine (a ferret cousin) will embody through the 19th century: purity, chastity and innocence.

Triumphus Mortis

THAT LADY, glorious and beautiful,
Who, once a pillar of high excellence,
Is now but spirit and a little earth,
In honor was returning from her war,
Glad for her victory over the great foe
Who with his fraudulence afflicts the world­
Her weapons none save purity of heart,
Beauty of countenance and modest thought,
And converse ever virtuous and wise.
And it was wondrous in her train to see,
Shattered, the arrows and the bow of Love,
And those whom he had captured or had slain.
Returning from their noble victory
The lovely lady with a chosen few
Together made a troop that was but small­
The glory that is true is ever rare­
But for herself each one of them deserved
A noble poem, or historic fame.
The banner of their victory displayed
An ermine white upon a field of green,
Wearing a chain of topaz and of gold.
Not human, rather to be called divine,
Were both their bearing and their holy words:
Blessed is one born for such destiny!
With violets and roses they were decked;
Bright stars they seemed, and in their midst a sun
Adorned them all, and made them brighter still.
And as a gentle heart wins honor, so
The troop was moving onward joyously,
When I beheld a banner dark and sad,
And a woman shrouded in a dress of black,
With fury such as had perchance been seen
When giants raged in the Phlegraean vale,
Came near, and said: "0 thou who goest on,
Proud of thy beauty and thy youthfulness,
And know'st not when thy life shall reach its end,
I am that one whom all ye mortals call
Fierce and relentless: ye are deaf and blind,
Night falls upon you ere' tis eventide.
'Twas I who brought the Grecians to their fate,
And Troy, and then the Romans last of all,
With this my sword, that cuts and plunges deep,
And other peoples, barbarous and strange;
And coming when there is least heed of me,
I put an end to infinite vain thoughts.
And now to you, when life delights you most,
I take my course, ere Fortune strike at you,
Turning your sweetness into bitterness."
"Thou hast no power over those with me" ­
Thus answered she who was without a peer­
"And little over me, save for my body.
I know that there is one who more than I
Will grieve, who needeth me for his soul's sake;
But I shall grateful be for my release."
As one who bends her eyes on something strange,
Perceiving what before she had not seen,
Marveling and regretful for her error,
Such now was this dread creature: but ere long
"Well do I recognize them all," she said,
"And know when they were bitten by my tooth."
Then, with her brow less troubled and less dark
She said: "Thou who dost lead this goodly throng,
And yet hast never felt my poisonous touch,
If thou hast any trust in what I say,
Who can enforce my will, 'tis better far
To shun old age and all its many woes.

I am disposed to honor thee in a way
Unwonted, and to let thee pass from life
Free from all fear and from all suffering."
"As it may please the Lord who is in heaven
And rules and moderates the universe,
Do with me as thou dost with all mankind."
'Twas thus she answered; and then suddenly
The vale was filled with folk already dead,
Beyond the power of prose or verse to telL
The plain itself and all its slopes were filled
With a great host of the dead of many times,
From India, Cathay, Morocco, Spain.
Here now were they who were called fortunate,
Popes, emperors, and others who had ruled;
Now are they naked, poor, of all bereft.
Where now their riches? Where their honors now?
Where now their gems and scepters, and their crowns,
Their miters, and the purple they had worn?
Wretched who sets his hope on mortal things­
Yet who does not?-and if he find himself
Deluded at the last, it is but just.
What profit have ye from your blind pursuits?
Ye all return to the great ancient mother:
Even the memory of your names is lost.
Of your unnumbered tasks is there e'en one
That is aught more than merest vanity?
Let him reply who knows what ye have done.
Avails it aught to conquer other lands
And make their foreign people tributary,
Your will enkindled ever for their harm?
After emprises perilous and vain
And lands and treasures won with your own blood,
Ye will find bread and water far more sweet,
And wood and glass better than gems and gold.
But, following no more so long a theme,
'Tis time that I return to my prime task.
So I declare that for her earthly life,
Brief and renown'd, the final hour had come,
And the doubtful passing that the world doth dread.
There to behold her was another throng
Of worthy women still in life, who came
To see if it may be that Death be kind.
This noble company was gathered there
To see and contemplate the fatal end
That comes to all of us, and comes but once:
They were her friends and neighbors, everyone.
And then from her blond head the hand of Death
Plucked forth a single sacred golden strand;

And thus she chose the whole world's fairest flower,
Not out of hatred, but to demonstrate
Her sovereignty o'er e'en the highest things.
Weeping and sad laments abounded there,
And only those fair eyes of hers were dry
For which I sang and burned so many years.
Amid the sighing and the sorrowing
Silent and well content she sat alone,
Gathering now the fruit of her good life.
"Go then in peace," they said, "0 thou who art
A mortal goddess." Such she was, and yet
Naught could prevail 'gainst Death's relentless power.
Night after night she had suffered burning pain,
Now less, now more: how then shall others fare?
0 human hopes! how blind and false ye are!
If many tears fell then upon the earth,
Called forth by pity for her gentle soul,
who saw them, knows: thou, listener, mayst but think.
April the sixth, it was, and the first hour,
When I was bound-and now, alas, set free!
Surely the ways of fate are strange indeed!
None ever grieved so much for servitude,
Even for death, as I for liberty,
And that my life was not now taken from me.
'Twas due this age of ours, and due the world,
That I, who first had come, should first have gone,
And that its brightest honor should remain.
Grief beyond measure filled us all: I scarce
Dare think of it, and even less be bold
Enough to speak thereof in verse or rhyme.
"Virtue is dead, beauty and gentleness" ­
'Twas thus by her chaste bed the ladies all
Spoke sadly: "What shall now become of us?
Who now will see her perfect way of life?
Who now will hear the wisdom of her words,
Or the angelic sweetness of her song?"
Her spirit, ready now to leave her breast,
Was gathering her virtues to itself,
And the heaven above her had become serene.
No evil adversary ventured then
To make appearance with malignant mien
Before the task of Death was all complete.
And now, the time for fear and weeping past,
All were intent upon her lovely face,
Despair bringing to them its certainty.
Not like a flame that forcibly is quenched,
But like to one that doth itself consume,
Her soul, contented, went its way in peace,
Like to a light that is both clear and sweet
And loses slowly its own nutriment,
Keeping its dearness to the very end.
Not pale, but whiter than the whitest snow
Quietly falling on a gentle hill,
She seemed to be aweary and at rest.
And that which is called "death" by foolish folk
Was a sweet sleep upon her lovely eyes,
Now that her body held her soul no more;
And even death seemed fair in her fair face.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

UC bowl eligible

At this point, it's really difficult for me to hold back my excitement: UC is again headed to a bowl game! Yay! But where? I want to make my travel plans! Arrrgh! The suspense will eat away at me...

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

NC State auctions off busted drug dealers confiscated jewlery

On Thursday, the North Carolina Department of Revenue is auctioning off all of the jewelry that they've confiscated from busted drug dealers. I was shocked (sort of) when I read that, at this auction, they will be selling a $23,000 gold pendant depicting Jesus and a $38,000 watch. Really, I laughed my ass off when I read the entire list of object descriptions! I wanted to share with you a few of my favorites:


A diamond gorilla (with one stone missing) appraised at $21,600.

Gold colored mens ring w/ "R/S" in torch design on square face and music design on one side and devil face on one side

Tri-colored Rosary necklace approx. 32"
Silver colored figaro necklace, approx. 24" w/ silver colored charm of the "Superman" emblem

Gold colored mens ring, 'religious figure' on center face w/ 3 red stones, 3 green stones, 7 clear stones in horseshoe design and horse head on each side of band
18K yellow gold "Jesus" pendant w/ multiple round clear stones w/approx. 25" curb llink yellow gold chain - appraised to be worth $23,000.

Gold colored female ring, "Mom" on center with flower designs

Gold colored curb link necklace, approx. 18" long, with one gold colored heart shape Tweetie Bird charm, and one gold colored "Taz" charm

Gold colored rope necklace, approx. 20" long, with one gold colored Indian head charm

Gold colored pendant with image of male on front


How's that for trend-setting?

Monday, November 10, 2008

Girl Talk

Tonight Girl Talk, a well-known laptop DJ, was in Cincy and I couldn't go because of work. Yet another reason why "Work" is truly the most offensive four-letter word.

Watch how Girl Talk makes a mashup below:


I'm wondering who's going to file the first copyright lawsuit, and what the outcome will be?

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Thesis day?

Today was the day that I was supposed to write a the first chapter of my thesis. That went to pot, literally, when:

1. I smoked as soon as I woke up today (11 AM).
2. I had to watch UK lose. (which sucked, but it was an awesome game)
3. An entire pumpkin pie sundae from Graeter's magically disappeared.
4. It became a good idea to play in my craft box (now I have a new set of stationary).
5. Got stoned again.
6. Watched UC win! yay!

So I just came home only to realize that I haven't done anything productive all day. But my day was so awesome that' I'm not even going to complain... I needed some fun!

I did realize something pretty crucial today: I hang out with more males than females, but not romantically and I like it that way. Don't get me wrong, I'm not gay or anything - someday I do want to meet a special person to father my superbabies (my extremely tall offspring with high standardized test scores). I just like my current situation pretty well.

Right now, I have a couple really great friends who watch ballgames and smoke pot with me. They take good care of me (i.e. I never have to drive or open doors, etc.) and expect nothing (strictly friends - ex's frat brothers). Obviously, I'm not getting regular sex (a definite perk of having a boyfriend), but for me to date right now would be so stupid anyway that I don't even think about it anymore. There's no time for that now. So instead, I have some awesome friends who are a blast to be around, and that makes me happy! I love thinking of reasons to be happy :-)

It hurts more than just you. Who goes there?!

I've been smoking for over three hours now, and I can hardly type because I'm laughing so hard at myself for doing some stupid shit. Get this: I'm stoned like Stephen in my big spongy awesome TV watching chair and this anti-drug commercial comes on. In it, a teenager is smoking pot, while her much younger sibling peeks through the door as the narrator proclaims, "It hurts more than just you."

Well, after seeing that creepy child spy on his sister, I became a bit concerned about the state of my doorways. All clear of creepers? I had to check. I walked all around my condo, through an entire episode of Harvey Birdman, just checking to see that no impressionable youth is near when I'm smokin' fat funky bowls 24/7. Yeah.

Now, I'm listening to T.I. and thinking about the chronic that he smokes, wishing I had it in the jar of babies. *sigh*

Friday, November 7, 2008

African Swim



from adultswim.com pretty tight and 100% free. Track 2 is a personal fav.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Executive felines

My mother has no shame. As an owner of SIX cats, she is also on a list-serve for cat lovers. Essentially, she is THE crazy cat lady and she owns it, if you know what I mean. With resilience, she ignores my cat lady jokes and, to spite me, forwards me her mostly stupid "cat facts" emails from the list-serve.

I guess I'm getting soft, because I found this interesting and appropriate for the day after the election. In the midst of a national economic crisis and an ongoing war in the Middle East, it is only prudent to consider whether or not Obama will be bringing a feline to the White House. Enjoy these kitty facts:

With a new first family poised to enter the White House, are you wondering if a "first feline" will be joining them? While that remains to be seen, many former U.S. presidents have brought their pets to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue -- and a few have been cats. Remember Socks? The Clintons's black-and-white tuxedo spent his two terms stealing the hearts of White House staffers and the American public. Tabby, the very first cat ever to reside at the White House, belonged to Abe Lincoln. And a sleek black cat named India now lives with George W. Bush at the famous address -- but not for long.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

recently

a few updates:

1. Stan's dad emailed me...."What about those remaining belongings of Stan's that we had to leave at your place to accommodate your timeframe for his departure?" Oh. You mean the box fan, postage envelopes and the jim beam ash tray? Oh yes, all of those precious things have been boxed up, wasting space in my condo since June. I had my dad take it to his parents' house. When mom asked how he was doing, the response was, of course, "Oh Stan's doing very well!!" Very well compared to...??? Someone fighting in the war in Iraq? A cancer patient? Courtney Love? I hear rehab does wonders. What a childish situation.

2. Writing my MA thesis is one of the suckiest experiences I've had to date. My first research proposal ( a case study of the art market) got shot down for being too "businessy, not an art history project." I was honestly pretty devastated. Never did I see that coming....so I basically wrote a new proposal in a week's time. I'm devoting the next year of my life to looking at weasels in works of art, emblems and fashion from 1300 to 1700. Yes, now even my work is consumed with Maximus... Can you imagine how I'll be with kids of my own?!?!

3. I saw the Kooks and the Flobots in concert! Awesome times...

4. I was an abortion for Halloween. Not that I would ever have one myself, I just really wanted to piss people off. Isn't that so bad of me?

5. Does it really matter if Obama wins? I'm just ready for Bush to move back to Texas to shoot at shit and holler.

Sorta like Babycakes, I'm just excited to live in this awesome world.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Tranq to the butt

The Brownie Song



I miss Clemence and Emma! I want to go back to New York....

Damien Hirst is a gangsta


9 of the 10 highest price tags on the art market for the month of September were marked with the name "Damien Hirst". You can check out the full list here. I've never been impressed with Hirst, but he is so hot right now it's ridiculous. Animals preserved in resin and chemicals? It's more like a tacky science experiment to me. But, the guy knows how to rake in the cheddar.

The ten highest priced works sold during September totaled over $78 million. No chump change.

Who's in a recession?

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Halloween? Life is crazy and this blog sucks. Stop reading it.

I realized today that Halloween is upon us! My once-favorite holiday I had nearly forgotten!!! Why? Because I have sucked lately. Here is why:

1. My granddad was in ICU for three weeks after he had a stroke. I was doing some driving down to the hospital where he was admitted to visit him. He just got moved to an old folks home, so he's in good hands and I can be less stressed out about his situation.

2. I haven't been able to write for fun (i.e. journal or blog). Instead, I've been writing thesis proposals, artist bios, et al. Not my favorite - I feel like less of a person without at least some kind of creative outlet. I've just been overloaded with projects, and at the end of the day I'm entirely too exhausted to reflect on the things I've done and felt. If I'm not reflecting, am I really learning and taking any bit of value from my everyday experiences? Subconsciously perhaps. But I don't feel like I'm living much of a life right now. There's just no time to think about it.

3. I work. A lot.

4. Ganja consumption has been reduced by almost 70%. (literally, I checked my bank statement and compared my expenditures from the past month to August) Not something I consciously set out to do, but a result of my new crappy busy lifestyle. The days when I could smoke, blog and watch countless retarded youtube videos are long gone. Now that's depressing....

At one time, I had new stories about handsome men in my life, bourbon, fancy places, sleazy places, ATV's, personal trainers... all kinds of wrong. The Sexy Summer is long gone, and now I'm amidst the Ass-Kicking Autumn of '08. I don't even have enough time to think about what I want to be for Halloween!!!!!! I am just really confused about how my super sweet lifestyle has developed into this.

I just want to smoke a j, take a nap and forget about it. Maybe wake up for a milk shake and a manicure when it's halfway finished. Especially if it is a UDF pumpkin pie ice cream milk shake!

xoxoxo

killer fuckin budz

...i think i graduated from high school with these bastards. I'm posting this in the Halloween spirit. I really don't like to see blood and the like at all. However, I do have a weakness for stoner humor.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

SEAMANSHIP!

the kitten has my vote, even though he is a bit too liberal for my taste.



the election might be a little less scary if the political commentary didn't sync up so damn well with these "replacement" candidates....

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Ron Paul talks about Obama's notion of "Change"



Once again, the man is on to something...

I will be so glad when this election is over. I don't like either of the mainstream candidates. Obama is a good liberal (if there really is such a thing) and McCain sucks all around, but especially sucks at being a Republican. I don't even want to think about Biden and Palin...

I'm trying to think of countries with free-market capitalism where I could go live for a while... free-markets, anyone? I can't think of one true free-market in the whole world. Most countries are mixed market, with some government intervention allowed. But true free-markets?

Happy Halloween from Yucko the Clown

Ron Paul on the current economy


Yet another bold, but educated, move from the most outspoken man in congress.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Thank you, Ron Paul, for your proposed H.R. 5843: Cannabis Decriminalization

House of Representatives to Consider Cannabis Decriminalization!
Tell Your Representative to Support H.R. 5843!
NORML is pleased to report that H.R. 5843, an "Act to Remove Federal Penalties for Personal Use of Marijuana by Responsible Adults," has been introduced in the House of Representatives by Representatives Barney Frank and Ron Paul.

This measure, if passed, would strip the federal government of its authority to arrest responsible adult cannabis consumers. NORML founder and Legal Director Keith Stroup worked extensively with Frank’s staff to write this important legislation, which represents the first cannabis decriminalization measure introduced in Congress in 24 years.

Under current federal law, the penalty for cannabis possession is up to one year imprisonment and a $1,000 fine.

Please take a moment today to write your Representative and urge him to support this important legislation.


FYI: While Ron Paul and his bros are working to eradicate these asinine federal penalties, there still exist repercussions at the state level.

State of Kentucky: You can have in your possession up to 8 oz, and the penalties are up to a year in jail (which no one ever serves) and a $500 fine.

City of Lexington, KY: You can have in your possession less than one ounce, and get caught with it up to 5 times before jail is even considered.

State of Ohio: You can have less than a 100 g in your possession, pay a $100 fine, and never even see it as a misdemeanor on your record.

Corbin, KY: The Big Shiny Buckle of the Marijuana Belt

When I say that I'm used to the homegrown shit, I'm not lying. I grew up in what is now nationally known as the "Marijuana Belt", which spans across eastern and southeastern Kentucky and eastern Tennessee. Ironically, the Marijuana Belt overlaps a good deal with the Bible Belt. No chance of these d'roors droppin'. Below is an article on crop control. However, before you read it in its entirety, do realize that the type of logic employed here is horribly flawed for a number of reasons:
-
Perhaps the most laughable is the fiscal perspective. This article specifically cites the regional poverty as a result of the failing economy in southeastern Kentucky. I could go on and on about the socioeconomic challenges this region faces, as my father had to get a job three hours from home because there was nothing available within his field in the area. At any rate, this article BOASTS of keeping 1 billion dollars out of one of the poorest regions in the nation. Furthermore, they are spending 1.5 million in state revenue and 6 million in federal dollars on keeping this money out of eastern Kentucky. Then they have the fucking nerve to come out and say that they want the growers to Tennessee! Aside from being sick today, this article singlehandedly ruined my day.

Read on, dude:

Kentucky goes after "Marijuana Belt" growers
By Chris Kenning, The (Louisville) Courier-Journal
BARBOURVILLE, Ky. — Deep in the Appalachian woods near the Knox-Bell County line, Kentucky State Police Trooper Dewayne Holden's Humvee belched smoke and roared as it struggled up what once was an old logging trail.
As his three-truck convoy stopped at a clearing atop a 3,000-foot ridge, Holden grabbed a machete and joined eight other armed troopers and National Guard members, hiking toward a hill under some power lines.

Keeping an eye out for nail pits, pipe bombs and poison-snake booby traps, they found fresh ATV tracks.

The pot growers had beaten them to the prize: Gone were the 40 to 50 marijuana plants worth as much as $100,000 that Holden spotted from a helicopter more than a week earlier. Only six spindly plants were left.

"Well, that's six they won't get," he says, shrugging and pulling them out of the dirt. "Sometimes they just get here before we do."

Welcome to the battle police and marijuana growers wage each fall in Kentucky's remote Appalachian counties, where 75% of the state's top cash crop is grown.

According to officials at the Office of National Drug Policy's Appalachia High Intensity Drug Trafficking Area Program (HIDTA), Kentucky produces more marijuana than any other state except California, making it home to one of the nation's more intensive eradication efforts — a yearly game of harvest-time cat and mouse in national forests, abandoned farms, shady hollows, backyards and mountainsides.

"We're essentially in a race with the grower to get it before he does," says state police Lt. Ed Shemelya, head of the eradication unit. This time of year, "it's not uncommon for us to be on one side of a hill eradicating, and on the other a grower is harvesting."

More than 100 state police, guard members, DEA agents, U.S. Forest Service spotters and others are part of a strike force based in London, Ky., that works dawn to dark, sometimes roping into remote patches from Blackhawk helicopters.

With a budget of $1.5.million and help from a $6.million federal anti-drug effort in the region, last year the state seized 557,628 marijuana plants worth an estimated $1.billion.

Authorities say their efforts keep drugs off the streets and illicit profits out of criminal hands. But critics call it a waste of time and money that has failed to curb availability or demand.

"Trying to eradicate marijuana is like taking a teaspoon and saying you're going to empty the Atlantic Ocean," says Gary Potter, an Eastern Kentucky University professor of criminal justice who has researched the issue for decades.

Traps and tradition

On a rainy morning at the Civil Air Patrol airfield just outside London, National Guard pilots, DEA agents and state police sip coffee and await their morning briefing.

On the wall hangs a T-shirt reading, "Welcome to the Jungle: Kentucky Eradication 2007," a marker of how big the pot business has become since taking root in the area in the 1970s.

A typical day will involve hitting 15 to 20 marijuana plots — most spotted by Holden or another pilot in a helicopter. They have learned to spot the tell-tale earthen trails and bluish-green of pot patches. They mark the GPS coordinates, then guide in ground forces to cut and burn the crop.

A display case in the squat concrete building where they've gathered is a reminder of the booby traps they might face: Pipe bombs with trip wires, fishing hooks strung face-high across trails, sharpened bamboo sticks, ankle-crushing bear traps; and boards pounded through with three-inch nails that are laid on the ground and covered with leaves.

"Some growers will take a poisonous snake and with monofilament wire, tie it to the plot," Shemelya says, leaving police to find "one (very mad) pissed-off copperhead."

The traps are meant mainly for thieves. Most growers found on the sites, even armed ones, flee when police arrive. Still, the booby-traps are a hazard. A few years ago, three growers blew themselves up rigging a pipe bomb. One of Shemelya's men has had his face sliced with hooks, and another was injured after stepping into a "spike pit," he says.

This morning, rain and a mechanical problem prompt the team to head out without the chopper — although they know it'll be easy to walk right past a giant pot patch amid the thick curtains of Appalachian forest.

The remote and rugged terrain, including the 700,000 acres of the Daniel Boone National Forest, is a pot-grower's paradise — its perfect soil and climate give it a key place in America's "Marijuana Belt."

But the reasons go beyond the landscape.

Many of the small towns of Eastern Kentucky, steeped in a tradition of bootlegging moonshine, also have high rates of unemployment and poverty and in some cases, public corruption, according to federal drug officials. People can make as much as $2,000 from a single plant, an often irresistible draw when good-paying jobs are scarce. Much of what is harvested is carried in car trunks to such cities as Pittsburgh, Cleveland and Detroit, authorities say.

The estimated worth of seized plants alone far outstrips Kentucky's other crops. Federal statistics from the Department of Agriculture for 2005 show state receipts for tobacco were $342 million and corn was $336 million, compared with close to $1 billion of pot eradicated last year by HIDTA.

Over time, growing pot has become an "accepted and even encouraged" part of the culture in Appalachia, according to a 2006 report from the Office of National Drug Control Policy.

Still, authorities complain that in some counties it is difficult to get a jury to indict, much less convict, a marijuana grower.

"In one county, we had 45 minutes of surveillance video of a man cultivating. We couldn't even get beyond a grand jury. What better evidence can you have?" Shemelya says.

Holden says that unless a patch he cuts down is huge or contains traceable evidence, he rarely goes knocking at nearby homes in hopes of ferreting out the grower. Everyone knows who it is, he says, but no one tells.

"It's very engrained in the culture," he says.

Dispute over success

At one edge of London's tiny downtown is a bank building with reflective windows. It's not listed on the directory, but upstairs, behind a security door, is the carpeted office of Appalachia High Intensity Drug Trafficking Area, or HIDTA.

The 68 counties in Eastern Kentucky, eastern Tennessee and western West Virginia that make up the area have less than 1% of the country's population, according to Census and National Drug Intelligence Center data, but HITDA figures indicate the region contained roughly 10% of the marijuana eradicated nationwide in 2006.

Director C. Frank Rapier, speaking in a loping Eastern Kentucky accent, ticks off the success of marijuana eradication — known as "whack and stack" to the locals.

With the help of HIDTA money of $6 million, which covers three states, drug agents destroyed more than a half-million plants last year in Kentucky alone and netted 512 arrests. So far this year, the anti-drug effort has snagged 365,000 plants from more than 3,000 plots in Kentucky, Rapier says.

Since eradication started in the 1990s, Rapier says, the national forests are a little safer for visitors. There's less marijuana, which he believes is a gateway to harder drugs. And last year an estimated $1 billion worth of profits were kept out of Kentucky.

This year, drought has done some of the strike force's work: The total number of plants destroyed and their street value will be down significantly because dry conditions withered many plants, according to Rapier and Shemelya.

But overall, Rapier says, the team's work has resulted in the average plot size declining from 300-400 plants to less than 80. And he says the Mexican drug gangs that control much of the marijuana growing in California have stayed away.

"It's been very successful," he says.

Potter, who has done field research that has put him in touch with many current and former growers, has a different view.

"Simply cutting down and burning plants does no good at all," he says, adding that growers are just planting more in scattered plots, often under netting or shaded areas.

They also shore up profits by boosting levels of THC, or delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol — the chemical that causes a high — to 15% today from 3% in the 1970s to 15% today.

Potter also argues that eradication programs often exaggerate the street value of the plants they pull up as a way to justify their existence.

"There's more marijuana, better marijuana, more people smoking and more profits to growers and dealers than ever before," he says. "I don't care what KSP and DEA says, by the mid-1990s the war on drugs was over, and the traffickers won."

Last year's National Survey on Drug Use and Health showed that about 40% of Americans age 12 or older have tried marijuana at least once. Nearly 11% say they used it within the past year.

Criminal justice professor Potter, who lives and teaches in Richmond, says he also believes that more powerful dope and greater police pressure has raised the stakes, and the danger.

"Last summer, I was out in the rural part of the county bumming around with my Jack Russell," he says. "I ran into three guys who were heavily armed. One said, 'You really don't want to be here.' Twenty years ago, they would've offered you a joint — now they're chasing you away with rifles."

Allen St. Pierre — director of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws based in Washington, D.C. — agreed with Potter that eradication efforts aren't as effective as authorities say.

Efforts in all 50 states haven't kept marijuana production from increasing tenfold in the past 25 years to 22 million pounds in 2006, according to federal estimates compiled by a researcher from St. Pierre's organization, using statistics from the U.S. Justice Department and other agencies. St. Pierre's group also argues that pot isn't as dangerous as officials contend.

Because production numbers generally are based on eradication figures, it's impossible to know for sure what kind of dent police efforts are making. Shemelya says he thinks they get close to half of what's grown. Potter says it's probably far less.

"There's an old saying," Trooper Holden says. "You plant a third for the law, a third for the thieves and a third for yourself."

This year, federal prosecutors are jettisoning their usual 100-plant threshold — used as a guideline to bring federal cultivation charges — and enacting a "zero-tolerance" policy for violations on federal land, Rapier says.

The idea is to push more growers onto private land, which can be seized.

Shemelya says he believes that marijuana would be on every hillside in Eastern Kentucky if his unit didn't keep it in check.

"You're never going to stop people from growing marijuana," he says. "But the idea is to make it so dad-gummed hard to grow they go to Tennessee or somewhere else."

Kentucky is a special place with special people

Sifting through my favorite hyper-intellectual marijuana legalization blogs, I found a unique post from a fellow Kentuckian. This was discovered amidst a structured, well-reasoned and persuasive discussion board arguing for the decriminalization of bud. His post name is "Crazy Fat Guy" and he is from Cave City, KY:

Legalize it? Hell I thought it was. You mean people actually get locked up for smokin skunk?
I'll be damned!!! Argggg!!!! That pisses me off.
Here you got all those clankity assed robots and clowns running around town but they go after the innocent ones smoking a bowl or two. What about those crazy Chinese guys making defective peter pumps? You don't see them getting their doors knocked down. What a fricking travesty!!
bahahahahahahahahahaha! Leperchauns are kool.


Now that's unbridled spirit. No wonder we Kentuckians can't legally smoke dope in the Bluegrass state...

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

RACK 'EM!

A real cute boy at school introduced me to my new favorite crackhead, Willie. Watch this first:

THEN watch the most frightened white guy ever, as Willie pretends to be a legitimate hiring employer:

I actually almost feel sorry for this guy... as I laugh hysterically at his growing anxiety.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

HIttin' close to home...

I feel like this story was written about my ex-boyfriend.

Marry a Beer Heiress!


McCain�s Economic Plan For Nation: 'Everyone Marry A Beer Heiress'
I'm not a man, but I feel like I understand them enough to know that most men would love to be John McCain, simply because of the MILF on his arm. There's no doubt that she's beautiful, wealthy and owns one of the largest beer companies in the world. It seems like it would be hard for any man to say she's not a catch.

*I love the Onion!

Pee Wee's Lasting Effect

Dude, no wonder I'm a stoner with ADD. I grew up watching this shit for hours on end! I'm so lucky that there's not anything more serious wrong with me!


(note: this is one of my favorite episodes, which I actually remembered in detail)

11/17/08

What should I do for my birthday? How do you even celebrate 24? I'm confused. I know whatever I do, it will involve 1. blunts, 2. sexy slices of manpie, and 3. drinking. Three timeless resources for any birthday party.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Marijuana bust may prove bad trip for cops

This article can be found in its original context by clicking here.
A couple in the U.S. city of Denver are demanding compensation from the police after their 39 marijuana plants died while being stored as evidence. James and Lisa Masters were arrested and charged with storing drugs. The case later went up in smoke.


The Masters claimed they grew the plants for medical purposes, even though they were not on the Colorado state registry allowing them to cultivate the drug. Police confiscated the plants and stored them for more than a year in a room without a grow-lamp or water. Naturally, all the plants died.

The couple, who turned out to have being growing cannabis for themselves and at least five other people – all with permission to use it for medical purpose. They failed to register properly because they couldn’t afford the $US 110 fee, said Brian Vicente, one of their attorneys.

Now they want the Police Department to reimburse them $200,000 for the destroyed plants. Citing state law, they says the police must not "harm, neglect or destroy" evidence in such cases.

The police say they treated the plants as any other piece of evidence.


"At the time the grass plants were confiscated, the Masters didn't have documents to prove it was medical marijuana. They have to have some proof," police spokeswoman Rita Davis said.
The Masters' attorneys argue that police should have cared for the plants as they would an animal or child removed from a home.

"If the police take your pit bull, do they put it in an evidence locker for two months," Vicente said.

The case is made even more obscure by a lack of precedence. It’s rare for people given permission to use marijuana for medical reasons not to have the necessary licenses to hand. SOURCE

By Whistleblower

http://blog-reporter.blogspot.com

puffy on the "fluffy" stuffy

Shouldn't cops carry around a scale? Eyeballing never did anyone any justice.

Marijuana suspect: It only looks like a lot because it's 'too fluffy'

Comments 15 | Recommend 1
September 26, 2008 - 9:39PM
Wendy Victora
Daily News

FORT WALTON BEACH - A 21-year-old Fort Walton Beach man is due in court Oct. 23 for DUI, failing to stay in a single lane and possession of marijuana.

He protested the marijuana charge, arguing that he did not have as much as deputies said he did, according to his arrest report. It just looked like a lot because it was "too fluffy," he said.

At the time of his arrest, he was driving on a business purposes only license. He told the deputy that he had gotten off work three hours earlier, but had hung around to drink.

Schiff 1, US Economy 0

This aired on Fox on December 16, 2006. Everyone had a great time laughing at Peter Schiff when he predicted that our borrowed wealth and false sense of prosperity would blow up in our faces come 2007. Now, there's very little to laugh about when it comes to our economy. Watch this clip:


So this whole debacle could have been prevented - it's not like Schiff was the only person in America privy to this information. Other Washington economists knew what would come of our borrowing, but no one listened. We are going to pay for the poor business practices of others with our hard-earned dollars. Furthermore, I don't trust anyone in Washington to create a plan that will actually rescue our economy. It's far more likely that this "bailout" will only postpone a far more devastating crash. I agree 100% with Congressman Paul on this one.

An example of how bad it's getting: At walgreens just a few days ago, I purchased 2 prescriptions (with fabulous insurance, co-pay only twenty bucks) hairspray, face wash, nail polish and disposable razors for $103.00. A fuckin hundred bucks! Outrageous. So, I'm no longer buying high-end cosmetics, getting meat from the grocery (mine comes from the farm), eating out, drinking out and road trips. I am going to splurge on a weekend at Keeneland here pretty soon, but aside from that I'm pinching my pennies. :-)

Ron Paul's Answer to the President

Dear Friends:

The financial meltdown the economists of the Austrian School predicted has arrived.

We are in this crisis because of an excess of artificially created credit at the hands of the Federal Reserve System. The solution being proposed? More artificial credit by the Federal Reserve. No liquidation of bad debt and malinvestment is to be allowed. By doing more of the same, we will only continue and intensify the distortions in our economy - all the capital misallocation, all the malinvestment - and prevent the market's attempt to re-establish rational pricing of houses and other assets.

Last night the president addressed the nation about the financial crisis. There is no point in going through his remarks line by line, since I'd only be repeating what I've been saying over and over - not just for the past several days, but for years and even decades.

Still, at least a few observations are necessary.

The president assures us that his administration "is working with Congress to address the root cause behind much of the instability in our markets." Care to take a guess at whether the Federal Reserve and its money creation spree were even mentioned?

We are told that "low interest rates" led to excessive borrowing, but we are not told how these low interest rates came about. They were a deliberate policy of the Federal Reserve. As always, artificially low interest rates distort the market. Entrepreneurs engage in malinvestments - investments that do not make sense in light of current resource availability, that occur in more temporally remote stages of the capital structure than the pattern of consumer demand can support, and that would not have been made at all if the interest rate had been permitted to tell the truth instead of being toyed with by the Fed.

Not a word about any of that, of course, because Americans might then discover how the great wise men in Washington caused this great debacle. Better to keep scapegoating the mortgage industry or "wildcat capitalism" (as if we actually have a pure free market!).

Speaking about Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, the president said: "Because these companies were chartered by Congress, many believed they were guaranteed by the federal government. This allowed them to borrow enormous sums of money, fuel the market for questionable investments, and put our financial system at risk."

Doesn't that prove the foolishness of chartering Fannie and Freddie in the first place? Doesn't that suggest that maybe, just maybe, government may have contributed to this mess? And of course, by bailing out Fannie and Freddie, hasn't the federal government shown that the "many" who "believed they were guaranteed by the federal government" were in fact correct?

Then come the scare tactics. If we don't give dictatorial powers to the Treasury Secretary "the stock market would drop even more, which would reduce the value of your retirement account. The value of your home could plummet." Left unsaid, naturally, is that with the bailout and all the money and credit that must be produced out of thin air to fund it, the value of your retirement account will drop anyway, because the value of the dollar will suffer a precipitous decline. As for home prices, they are obviously much too high, and supply and demand cannot equilibrate if government insists on propping them up.

It's the same destructive strategy that government tried during the Great Depression: prop up prices at all costs. The Depression went on for over a decade. On the other hand, when liquidation was allowed to occur in the equally devastating downturn of 1921, the economy recovered within less than a year.

The president also tells us that Senators McCain and Obama will join him at the White House today in order to figure out how to get the bipartisan bailout passed. The two senators would do their country much more good if they stayed on the campaign trail debating who the bigger celebrity is, or whatever it is that occupies their attention these days.

F.A. Hayek won the Nobel Prize for showing how central banks' manipulation of interest rates creates the boom-bust cycle with which we are sadly familiar. In 1932, in the depths of the Great Depression, he described the foolish policies being pursued in his day - and which are being proposed, just as destructively, in our own:

Instead of furthering the inevitable liquidation of the maladjustments brought about by the boom during the last three years, all conceivable means have been used to prevent that readjustment from taking place; and one of these means, which has been repeatedly tried though without success, from the earliest to the most recent stages of depression, has been this deliberate policy of credit expansion.

To combat the depression by a forced credit expansion is to attempt to cure the evil by the very means which brought it about; because we are suffering from a misdirection of production, we want to create further misdirection - a procedure that can only lead to a much more severe crisis as soon as the credit expansion comes to an end... It is probably to this experiment, together with the attempts to prevent liquidation once the crisis had come, that we owe the exceptional severity and duration of the depression.

The only thing we learn from history, I am afraid, is that we do not learn from history.

The very people who have spent the past several years assuring us that the economy is fundamentally sound, and who themselves foolishly cheered the extension of all these novel kinds of mortgages, are the ones who now claim to be the experts who will restore prosperity! Just how spectacularly wrong, how utterly without a clue, does someone have to be before his expert status is called into question?

Oh, and did you notice that the bailout is now being called a "rescue plan"? I guess "bailout" wasn't sitting too well with the American people.

The very people who with somber faces tell us of their deep concern for the spread of democracy around the world are the ones most insistent on forcing a bill through Congress that the American people overwhelmingly oppose. The very fact that some of you seem to think you're supposed to have a voice in all this actually seems to annoy them.

I continue to urge you to contact your representatives and give them a piece of your mind. I myself am doing everything I can to promote the correct point of view on the crisis. Be sure also to educate yourselves on these subjects - the Campaign for Liberty blog is an excellent place to start. Read the posts, ask questions in the comment section, and learn.

H.G. Wells once said that civilization was in a race between education and catastrophe. Let us learn the truth and spread it as far and wide as our circumstances allow. For the truth is the greatest weapon we have.

In liberty,



Ron Paul

A Lawyer's Life Story - from craigslist

Below, you'll find "something" found by Minnie on craiglist. I add this to my list of reasons not to date lawyers, law students, politicians, or anyone loosely affiliated with practicing law. Whether or not it is a hoax is neither here nor there, because the entertainment value is so great. Enjoy:

RAVE: My Life Since Getting Out of Prison

Reply to:
Date: 2008-06-26, 7:03PM
I graduated from college in May, and this summer seemed like a good time to go through the box of papers and assignments I had been saving since the start, both to reminisce and to do a little cleanup.

Tucked in a folder of an old notebook at the very bottom of the box was the essay that follows. Written in longhand, it was the first assignment from the first class in my first semester.

***********************************************************

January 20, 2003
English 1A
Professer ___________

My Best Summer Memory

Hey man, I’m not really sure if you’re supposed to put an introduction in this thing, but here goes anyway. My name is ____________. My assignment today is to write an essay about the best thing that happened to me this last summer.

I know everybody’s been kinda looking at me in class, wondering why a dude in his thirties is taking English 1A instead of being out there working a job. I’m not too keen on talking about myself much. Most folks aren’t, I guess, unless they’re Paris Hilton. But since the assignment is a personal essay I suppose I don’t have much choice. Anyways the best thing that happened to me this last summer was when I finally got outta prison based on that DNA evidence.

I’ll tell you man, if you can’t appreciate getting outta prison then you haven’t been there to begin with. For me it started about three years ago when this chick got murdered in East San Jose while opening up her plumbing supply shop. Me and Merle came by a couple weeks later to pick up some PVC for a sprinkler repair, and for some reason the dude behind the counter thought we was a little suspicious, so he called the cops. They put me in a line up, but of course the dude already knew what I looked like and what clothes I was wearing so it wasn’t that tough to pick me out. Other than that there was no real evidence, but I didn’t have an alibi and I had a couple drunk and disorderlies on my record back from when me and Merle used to fight each other for fun after closing time.

They had it in their minds I was guilty, and they kept after me for two days, yelling and throwing stuff at me and telling me made-up stories about how Merle told them I did it. I always figured I was pretty tough but after awhile it just wore me down. I had to look at some pictures of death row and I got showed on my arm where the needles would go and everybody called me Dead Man Walking. They told me if I signed a confession I wouldn’t get the death penalty and I had to think about that one pretty hard. The lawyer they assigned to me smelled like he’d been pulling a cork during lunch and he fell asleep while they was questioning me. I knew I didn’t do nothing but sometimes life just ain’t all fair, and this seemed like one of those times. So I signed.

After the sentencing Merle sold my truck and moved all my stuff into storage for me, and promised me he’d look after Mussel Shoals, my black lab. They sent me up to San Quentin, and when I got there, I was put in the section with the black dudes.I found out later that’s what they do with new prisoners, except the blacks end up in the white section. I guess it’s to soften up the new inmates, I dunno. Whatever the reason it didn’t take long for them to find this paleface. One day I turn around, and there they stood, the welcoming committee.

It didn’t take but one look to realize they weren’t there to bring me a fruit basket. I figured this was gonna be a test of me, find out if they could push me around, so I got a good shot in on the first one and broke his nose. Since it was four on one, I was looking at an ass-kickin for sure, so I didn’t follow up on the others too much, to try and keep ‘em from getting too mad. Well man, was I ever wrong about that. They got me face down, one on each arm and leg, then they got my pants down. About this time, right up till the last minute, I was thinking, this can't be happening to me.

The dude whose nose I broke went first. I was heaving and twisting my body trying to get loose, but the others held me down good. He started to poke around and then forced himself in. I never in my life had anything hurt like that, man. Everything got all cloudy and I heard him call me his white bitch. Bits of snot and blood from his nose dripped down on the cement next to my head. It’s the only time in my life I ever tried to talk to God. First I asked him why. Then I asked him to help me. And he never said a word.

You know, the only thing worse than being shined on by God is having it happen at a time like that, man. But it’s just like the preachers say: you can’t fool God. He knows why you’re finally talking to him – because you need help. So God never answered me, and I was on my own. And the only thing I wanted to do was to die.

When he was done, he got up and kicked me in the head. That in a way was kind of a blessing, cause I don't remember anything that happened after that for awhile, and I'm pretty sure the rest of those dudes took their turns.

A few weeks later, they came around again. I knew what was coming this time, and I didn’t hold anything back. I popped three of em pretty good before they got me down and did me again. They got the better of me, no question, but I left them worse for wear. That was the first time I ever saw a black eye on a black dude.

By this time I was hoping they’d think I just ain’t worth the trouble. There were plenty of others there that were easier pickins than me. But this wasn't about finding someone for sex, it was about breaking me down. So I got another visit from my new buddies. This time, they kinda formed a circle around me before moving in, and I could see in their eyes that some of them weren't really looking forward to this at all. Well man, welcome to the fuckin club.

This time I ended up in the prison hospital and spent a couple weeks there. One day, I was laying there thinking about how much I hurt and wondering what a life sentence was gonna be like with this happening all the time, when one of the inmates working in the hospital starts talking to me and tells me about the Aryan Brotherhood and how I don't have to put up with the nee-grahs no more as long as I join up with em. And that’s how I ended up with the tattoo of the swastika and WHITE POWER on my arm, right up there by the bicep.

Well, time goes by and I’m getting settled into the routine of prison life, and no one is messing with my behind no more now that I’m in this white guy gang. Then from outta the blue I find out that that someone from the Pine Hills Youth Correctional Facility in Montana got religious and wrote a letter confessing to killing that chick. He was just a kid, only seventeen years old. Can you believe that? Well, no one at San Quentin did. No one takes you seriously when you tell em you’re innocent, cause everybody in prison says they’re innocent. I didn’t have the letter or anything, just what I heard, so no one gave a shiet.

So I wrote to Merle, and he sent some dude from the Innocence Project to visit me. Next thing I know the prison doctor is scraping some skin from the inside of my mouth, and one day, just like that, they're walking me out the door and on my way. Course it didn’t take more than five minutes to be up to my ass in ambulance chasers all wanting to help me sue the government for my troubles. Most of em didn’t smell much different than the public defender, and I began to wonder if I was ever gonna get a lawyer who wasn’t a fall-down drunk. The dudes at the Innocence Project gave me the name of some chick up in San Francisco to call. That was kinda far away for me, but she turned out to be a pretty good lawyer and didn’t smell of booze either. She spent a lot of time yelling at the guys from the city, and let me tell you man, after listening to that I sure was glad she was working for me and not them. In the end, I got some money, not a lot, cause I wasn't in all that long and of course I didn’t tell a soul about the other stuff, but it was enough to get my trailer and a good truck, and they also promised to pay for retraining which is why I’m taking this class.

Once I got all signed up for school and the dust settled down, I figured I better get rid of that tattoo. So I called up Merle and told him to come on over and give me a hand with it. We heated up a weeding tool in the barbeque, and I bit down on a little stick of wood while Merle burnt off the tattoo with the weeder. You know, I never stopped biting that stick, but when the flesh started to burn, I tried to push everything outta me like emptying a squeeze bottle of Heinz ketchup. All the shame, all the rage I was carrying around inside me since I got out. I just forced it all outta me and I guess I yelled a good deal, cause Merle was looking at me kinda funny when it was done.

Merle's my best friend, and I figured maybe it was OK if I told him about it all, so I did. And when I was done, there was a long silence, then he kinda looked at me and asked in a quiet voice if I was gonna make him burn my bunghole too, and finish the job. That Merle, he's as dumb as a box of rocks, but he always finds a way to make me laugh.

I never really took to queers in the first place but it ain’t cause of what happened to me when I was inside prison. I don't blame the blacks or the queers for it. That stuff really wasn't about color or sex; it was about power plays by cons who had to ditch their humanity in order to survive. Still, as everybody knows man, no matter how many times you squeeze the bottle, you can't get every last bit of ketchup out, and for me, I still had some bits of my experience I couldn’t get outta my head. Sometimes, I'd be watching TV and just start to feel terribly sad and weak. Mussel Shoals was back with me by then, and he seemed to know something was wrong when I felt like that. He didn't know what, but he’d always come on over anyway, and lick my hand and rest his head on my leg. I tell you man, I really love that dog.

It was real tough getting back in the saddle with the ladies after what happened to me in prison. I’d always heard that if you so much as touched another guy’s privates you were queer for life, and although I was hoping that weren’t true, it was hard to think about sex without remembering all the bad stuff. Merle brought by some chick he was going out with who had a lady friend, and though she was nice and all I was kinda scared I wouldn’t be able to deliver the goods and have to start explaining everything, so I had to pass.

About a month after I bought my trailer, I met a nice chick at the park while out walking Mussel Shoals. She's about my age and pretty agreeable. Betty’s her name. She has a dog, too, a female Dalmatian named Dotty. Mussel Shoals was OK with that, ‘cause he ain’t prejudiced, and they got along just great. After we'd been going out for a few weeks it was my birthday, and she and Merle came over to my trailer and surprised me with a little cake. After I blew out the candles they said we could do anything I want, their treat. So we talked about it awhile and decided to spend the day out at Great America.

Well I don’t know if you been to Great America lately but they have this new feature which is a water park, and if you asked me that part alone is worth the price of admission. After we got in we headed on over there and changed our clothes in one of the little changing rooms they have nearby. While I was waiting for Betty to change (course chicks always take forever, took me and Merle about a minute and Betty about four hours) I struck up this conversation with this Filipino dude who was waiting behind me. He had a shirt on said he’s a police officer, so of course I didn’t mention anything about being in prison. Then one of the changing rooms opened up, not the one Betty was in (of course since she takes a million years) so I told the dude to go ahead of me since I had to wait for Betty anyway.

He moved on into the room and then his son, who was maybe 3 or 4 years old, started following him, but he told the son to wait outside. So the kid kinda backstepped a ways without turning around and then reached up and took my hand, and I closed my hand around his and we stood there awhile like uncle and son. It was a great feeling man. I never got to do that with my dad, cause he passed out on some tracks and got all mashed up by a train when I was only six months old, and none of the dudes that Mom brought around after that ever stayed more than a couple days. I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do, so I just stood there and tried not to squeeze his hand too hard.

Pretty soon though I heard this laughing behind me, and it’s the kid’s mom. And I looked down at him, and he’s looking over at her, and his forehead gets all crinkly, and he looks at his hand in mine, and you can see him sorta follow my arm all the way up to my shoulder and to my head. When he figured out I wasn’t his mom, his eyes got real big and he yanked his hand away and scampered over to where she was sitting.

Well by this time his mom is pretty much doubled over with laughter and she and I are talking, and of course Betty comes out right about then and sees me talking to this hot Filipino chick and gives me the stink eye. But it didn’t take too long before I’m the one who was upset cause Betty is wearing this string bikini top and let me tell you man, if I had charged a quarter a peek for a look at her tatas I would have made a fortune that day. Betty looks a lot like Salma Hayak (specially when she gets mad, which is all the time, Geez!) and she has a really nice rack.

But you see man this is where chicks are really sneaky. Betty knew we was going to a water park and there'd be lots of chicks to look at and she didn’t want me looking at em. So she wore her most revealing outfit cause she knew I’d have to keep an eye on her. At a place like Great America there are tons of buff dudes walking around trying to grab your chick when you’re distracted. So you got to keep your eye out every minute and that cuts into your time cruising the hotties. And speaking of that I think next time I’m gonna tell Betty how much I enjoy checking out the babes while she’s goofing around in the dressing room. That oughta speed her up.

We had a great time and ate crummy food and I won a Spongebob doll for Betty at the pitching booth. Merle almost got in a fight with some dudes who stole a big doll from one of the other carnival booths but the rent-a-cops broke that one up before it started. Later he got sick after going on the Invertigo and we got to watch him puke in a trash can. That part wasn’t so good, but after it got dark the fireworks started going off and Betty snuggled up to me real close and I forgot all about Merle, and we kinda lost him. It worked out OK though in the end. Merle called me later and told me that when he got out to the parking lot he ran into the same dudes he almost got in a fight with, and they ended up going out drinking and they’re his dawgs now. I never heard Merle call anyone that before, but he don’t generally hang out with black dudes either.

After the fireworks was done, Betty came back with me to my trailer, and we started watching American Idol. Well, one thing led to another and the next thing you know we was in bed getting ready to do the horizontal mambo. She was kinda nervous so I cracked a few jokes to relax her till she told me to shut up. I was nervous too, man. I was worried about maybe being queer, but besides even that, this was gonna be the first time for me since before I went to prison, and I was afraid I might be a little rusty.

It was a night I think I’m always gonna remember. First-time sex with a chick who's your girlfriend is always a big deal, specially if you’re a guy. You get to see what she looks like naked, specially the boobs, and see what kind of funny noises she makes when she gets all excited. In spite of all my worrying, everything turned out OK. I guess sex is like being on a bicycle, you never forget how to ride. Still, it took Betty a long time to come that night, but that’s probly cause she was busy with her own first-time sex thoughts. Chicks are funny about that. It's like the first time you take em out to dinner. They don't care about the dinner so much as not looking bad eating it, which usually means not eating much of it at all. Same thing with sex. The first time, they don't care so much about coming as much as they don't want to embarrass themselves. Next time though you better deliver, that is if you want there to be a third time.

So we're laying there afterwards, her head on my shoulder, and just talking real soft about nothing in particular, when all of a sudden there's this big commotion and damn if Mussel Shoals wasn't trying to have sexual relations with Dotty. She didn’t seem quite as interested as he was, but he stayed right on it, the two of em crashing into the walls and the bed and just going to town. I'll tell you, no one is gonna mistake ol’ Mussel Shoals for a 60 minute man, but seeing it was his first time and all, maybe he'll improve with practice.

A bit later I was the only one awake, and I was laying there listening to the three of em making their sleep noises, and wishing I could get my arm loose somehow so I could get a glass of water without waking up Betty. But I just laid there listening to the sounds, and smelling the odors of the people sex and dog sex, and thinking about my life.

I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid. I wanted to be a big success and fall in love with the prom queen and live in a four bedroom house with two kids and a Chevy just like white people do in the movies. It didn’t take long to figure out that wasn't gonna happen, and things started to look real bad there for awhile like I just told you about, and much as I try to, I’m probly never gonna forget how I got into prison and what happened to me there.

But all and all, life really ain’t been so bad to me, man. Betty said she thinks I might make a good lawyer someday. I told her I’ll be lucky to pass this class much less make it all the way to law school. But she thinks I can become a lawyer, not one like the city gives you that drinks his lunch, but someone who really helps people, maybe even get some other dudes outta prison that don’t belong there either. She said everybody has a destiny in life, and mine is to help people to redeem their lives. How can you not love a chick who talks like that, specially about you?

Come to think of it, the best thing that happened to me last summer was meeting Betty. I got me a good woman in that chick. I got someone to calm me down after I get cut off on the freeway by some dick, and to help me express my true feelings without cussin. She’s someone who’ll open the aspirin bottle for me when I have a hangover, fake an orgasm when I really need her to, and maybe someday, God willing, remind me how many kids we have and what their names are. Guys don't give their chicks enough credit for this sorta stuff, and frankly you dudes out there reading this, if you are not making use of this kinda help then you are not getting full value outta your chick.

I’m gonna do my part too. I’m gonna protect her, always. I’m gonna hold her and pet her head and tell her everything’s OK when she’s feeling sad. I’m gonna nod at her sympathetically while thinking, "Who fuckin cares?" while she bitches on and on about some other chick at work who looked at her the wrong way. I’m gonna help her watch football with me, let her change my haircut and clothes all the time, and worry about all the big shiet so she has plenty of time for chick stuff like shopping and crying.

It was a great summer, man. And I’m looking forward to the rest of my life.

********************************************************

I got a D for this essay ("inappropriate content)", and a C-minus for the course. I was pretty discouraged, but Betty wouldn't let me quit. She said that this might not be my last chance to change my life, but it sure was going to be my best chance, and I should go all out. At the department graduation ceremonies in May, the entire faculty rose and applauded me as I walked up to get my diploma. And then before you know it, everyone else got up and joined in too, and Betty started bawling her eyes out. I was really embarrassed, but fortunately Merle was there, and he shouted "It's about fucking time!" to me, which cracked up everyone and got them back into their seats. In the fall, I'll start law school at Santa Clara University, on an Emery scholarship.

Merle is a Precinct Captain for the Obama Campaign.

Mussel Shoals went on to live a happy life with Dotty. When his hearing started to go, we noticed that she was helping him to understand when we gave him commands. One by one his parts started to wear out, and on December 24th of last year, my dearest friend licked my hand one last time and then slept away. I buried him on a short hill, next to a trail where I used to hike with him and Dotty. The view is beautiful, and when we visit, Dotty will lay next to him for as long as I am willing to stay.

About three years ago my grades started to get very good and it looked like school would stick. I came home one night and told Betty that I thought things were getting better every year, year after year. She started crying and wouldn't tell me why. It took me a long time to figure it out, and when I did I felt pretty sheepish. I asked her, she answered yes, and nine months to the day of our wedding night, little Tina was born. She's as cute as a bug, and someday when she is old enough to learn about her old man's story, I will take this essay out of storage for her to read.



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Sunday, September 21, 2008

Reasons Sunday is Awesome:

1. No class

2. NFL

3. New episodes of Adult Swim cartoons

4. Napping

My Sundays are so ordinary that they've become extraordinary! I lay around in my underwear, smoking pot and betting on football games. I usually do some pretty serious cooking after a pretty serious day of watching football, and then I get really full and nap. After my nap, I smoke again before watching the Sunday night cartoon line-up on Adult Swim. Often, my evening will end with a scrumptious milk shake from UDF.

In football today, the Bengals put up a hell of a fight even though they lost to the Giants in overtime. I didn't suffer the heartbreak that I've endured thus far in the season. The Giants did win the Super Bowl, after all. I was of course a bit disappointed that the Bengals lost, but did not suffer the devastation I have felt after Bengal losses in the past. Currently, I'm cheering on the Eagles. If the Steelers lose to the Eagles it will make my day! Go Philadelphia!

Friday, September 19, 2008

Kentucky Boys in the Ryder Cup

Once again, people are cracking on MY home state for being backward and unremarkable in most respects. I hate these mother fuckers. This time, it's with regards to 2 Kentucky golfers playing for the Ryder Cup, which will actually be held here in the bluegrass state. They couldn't just talk about what an achievement it is to even make it to the tournement, or bullshit about the "home field advantage" - no. They had to make golfers in Kentucky sound like a huge lot of rednecks wearing stained tshirts and hiking boots with shorts on the golf course, missing teeth and the like. Kentucky deserves some positive attention - media needs to stop perpetuating stereotypes. Click here for the full article from espn.com.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Educate yourself: Bum Wine

One of my shining students planted in my mind a seed of curiosity when he mentioned the beverage Bum Wine. This drink, properly known as Low-end Fortified Wine, is consumed for the soul purpose of getting crunk as fuck. I had known it before only as Rotgut, which is what the rednecks in Jellico, TN call it when they are distributing to minors who drive across state lines on their lunch breaks to get drunk before going to art class. (Being the good friend that she is, Stella gave me three bottles of MD 20/20 for my 23rd birthday!!! One of them was the Bling Bling Blue Rasberry)

The Wikipedia page gives a great explanation:

A low-end fortified wine, commonly known as bum wine, wino wine, twist-cap wine, decker wine or rotgut wine, is any of a class of inexpensive fortified wines that are popular among the poor, homeless, and college students in the United States for the quick inebriation they deliver[1]

Popular examples of Bum Wine

Some popular beverages in this category are Thunderbird, MD 20/20, Cisco, Night Train, and Wild Irish Rose. Buckfast Tonic Wine[1] and formerly Ripple have similar reputations, though Ripple is no longer produced[1]. In Canada, Bright's Pale Dry Select Sherry is considered a potent low-end fortified wine[1]. Another such wine that is out of production is Sly Fox[1]. These wines typically have an alcohol content of between 15 and 20% ABV. Other characteristics include added sugars, artificial colorings and flavorings.
In contrast to table wine, which may be enjoyed as an accompaniment to a meal, or high-end fortified wine, enjoyed as an aperitif or digestif, low-end fortified wines are generally considered suitable only for intoxication. Note that its classification as "wine" is a very loosely used term, and many people refer to it as "hooch", "street wine", "fortified wine", "bum wine", or "twist-cap wine".
Two popular brands in this category are produced by the E & J Gallo Winery, and were a large part of the company's sales in its early days. Currently, neither carries the logo or other indication of this source although "Boone's Farm" (produced by E&J) does (13.9% ABV). These are Night Train Express (usually abbreviated to Night Train, and even has a song named for it) and Thunderbird (The American Classic). Night Train typically contains 17.5% alcohol by volume. Thunderbird is sold at between 13% and 18% ABV and first became popular in the 1950s. Its popularity led to the introduction of Thunderbird ESQ. Night Train Express has been a very controversial brand among civic leaders in major cities as it is felt that Night Train, as well as other inexpensive high liquor content drinks, contribute to vagrancy and public drunkenness of homeless people. Thunderbird was once marketed in the United Kingdom as "The California Aperitif.". The 1950s radio jingle that promoted Thunderbird had a song that sang, "What's the word? / Thunderbird / How's it sold? / Good and cold / What's the jive? / Bird's alive / What's the price? / Thirty twice.". Ernest Gallo allegedly drove through a poor neighborhood and upon seeing a homeless individual drinking, he called out "What's the word?". The person enthusiastically responded, "Thunderbird!"
MD 20/20 a.k.a. Mad Dog is an American fortified "wine" produced by Mogen David wineries. MD 20/20 has an alcohol content that varies by flavor from 13% to 18% (with most of the 18% varieties discontinued, although Red Grape is widely available from the 18% category). "MD" stands for "Mogen David," the name of the company based in Westfield, New York which makes it; the company is named after the Star of David, which in the original Hebrew is Magen David (pronounced mah-GEN dah-VEED) or Yiddish (pronounced MUH-gen DUH-vid), literally meaning "Shield of David;" the product's aficionado dubbed it "Mad Dog" to represent the initials "MD". At colleges it is often traditional for fraternities to "Mad Dog" a prospective recruit by knocking on his door at daybreak and forcing him to drink the bottle quickly. It is known for its pleasant high and painful aftereffects, but also as an initiation rite.
Cisco a.k.a "Liquid Crack" is the brand name of a highly alcoholic, low-price fortified wine, produced by the Centerra Wine Company (a division of Constellation Brands) with varieties selling at 17.5% and 19.5% alcohol by volume. Cisco has a distinctive syrup-sweet taste and, because of its color and bottle shape, was often mistaken for a wine cooler. The Federal Trade Commission forced the company to put a label on the bottle stating it was not a wine cooler and had the company change its marketing strategy from "Takes You By Surprise".[2].
Ripple was an inexpensive fortified wine produced by E & J Gallo Winery[3] that was popular among certain social classes in the United States, particularly in the 1970s. Due to its high alcohol content and low price, it had a reputation as a drink for alcoholics and the destitute. It was popular among young drinkers, both underage and college students. Ripple was mentioned often as being Fred Sanford's alcoholic beverage of choice on the 1970s TV show Sanford and Son (starring Redd Foxx), who once referred to it as "The national wine of Watts".[4] It is no longer produced.
Richards Wild Irish Rose is an alcoholic beverage produced by Centerra Wine Company, which is part of the Constellation Brands organization. It was introduced in 1954 and currently sells about two million cases annually. The brand is available in 13.9% and 18% alcohol by volume. The 13.9% wine has 115 calories (480 kJ) per 100 ml or 136 calories (570 kJ) per 4 ounces. The 18% product has about 138 calories (578 kJ) per 100 ml or 164 calories (687 kJ) per 4 ounces.
[edit]History

An early reference to the problem of cheap and poorly made wines is in the "Report on Cheap Wines" in the November 5, 1864 issue of The Medical Times and Gazette. The author, in prescribing inexpensive wines for a number of ills, cautions against the "fortified" wines of the day, describing of one sample that he had tried:
When the cork was drawn it was scarcely tinted, and was a very bad one - a thing of no good augury for the wine. There was no smell of port wine. The liquid, when tasted, gave the palate half-a-dozen sensations instead of one. There was a hot taste of spirits, a sweet taste, a fruity taste like damsons, and an unmistakable flavor of Roussillon [an alternative name in France for wine made from the grape Grenache]. It was a strong, unwholesome liquor, purchased very dearly.[5]
It is reported, however, that the popularity of cheap, fortified wines in the United States arose in the 1930s, as a product of Prohibition and the Great Depression:
Prohibition produced the Roaring Twenties and fostered more beer and distilled-spirit drinkers than wine drinkers, because the raw materials were easier to come by. But fortified wine, or medicinal wine tonic—-containing about 20 percent alcohol, which made it more like a distilled spirit than regular wine--was still available and became America's number one wine. Thunderbird and Wild Irish Rose, to name two examples, are fortified wines. American wine was soon more popular for its effect than its taste; in fact, the word wino came into use during the Depression to describe those unfortunate souls who turned to fortified wine to forget their troubles.
—Kevin Zraly, Kevin Zraly's American Wine Guide (2006) p. 38.
[edit]Concerns and media attention

More recently, the appeal of cheap fortified wines to the poor and homeless has raised concerns:
Community groups in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, and Portland have urged makers of fortified wines such as Wild Irish Rose and E & J Gallo's Thunderbird and Night Train brands to pull their products from the shelves of liquor retailers in skid row areas. In Nashville, Tennessee, one liquor store owner told Nashville Business Journal reporter Julie Hinds that police warned him to stop selling his biggest selling product, Wild Irish Rose, because it encouraged homeless people to linger in the area.
—Janice Jorgensen, Encyclopedia of Consumer Brands: Consumable Products (1993), p. 492.
In 2005, the Seattle City Council asked the Washington State Liquor Control Board to prohibit the sale of certain alcohol products in an impoverished "Alcohol Impact Area". Among the products sought to be banned were over two dozen beers, and six wines: Cisco, Gino's Premium Blend, MD 20/20, Night Train, Thunderbird, and Wild Irish Rose.[6] The Liquor Control Board approved these restrictions on August 30, 2006, and the ban came into effect on November 1, 2006.[7]


At bumwine.com, you can vote on the KING of bum wines, the nation's most grizzled bums, and my favorite: "Who would you rather look like for the rest of your life? 1. Big Bird from Sesame Street or 2. Grimace from McDonalds." Check out the polls by clicking here and rock the vote like it's November. You are now an educated citizen. You know the issues. Be a responsible American and vote!

Now off you go! Knowledge is power. Use this information to change the world. Or wake up in an alley with your pants undone.