Category Archives: Religion

Hunter S. Thompson on Richard Nixon: the greatest obituary ever written!

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HST, the flag, and the convertibleReally, there's nothing like a writer who knows his stuff inside and out, has made the English language his bitch, and refuses to hold back in the name of "impartiality." More evil has been done in the name of impartiality than in the name of passion; just ask Hannah Arendt.

Hunter Thompson never pretended to be anything other than a razor-fanged partisan anarchist. Neither leftist nor rightist, simply Gonzo, he was as horrified by his own fondess for Jimmy Carter as he was by the tame White House press corps that gave Nixon a free ride for so many years. And he opens his coverage of Nixon's funeral with a passage from Revelation, as is only right and proper.

Read it and weep, both for the savagery and for the loss…nobody writes like this anymore. Selah.

HST makes sure Nixon gets on the chopper

Some people will say that words like scum and rotten are wrong for Objective Journalism–which is true, but they miss the point. It was the built-in blind spots of the Objective rules and dogma that allowed Nixon to slither into the White House in the first place. He looked so good on paper that you could almost vote for him sight unseen. He seemed so all-American, so much like Horatio Alger, that he was able to slip through the cracks of Objective Journalism. You had to get Subjective to see Nixon clearly, and the shock of recognition was often painful…

These are harsh words for a man only recently canonized by President Clinton and my old friend George McGovern–but I have written worse things about Nixon, many times, and the record will show that I kicked him repeatedly long before he went down. I beat him like a mad dog with mange every time I got a chance, and I am proud of it. He was scum.

Let there be no mistake in the history books about that. Richard Nixon was an evil man–evil in a way that only those who believe in the physical reality of the Devil can understand it. He was utterly without ethics or morals or any bedrock sense of decency. Nobody trusted him–except maybe the Stalinist Chinese, and honest historians will remember him mainly as a rat who kept scrambling to get back on the ship…

At the stroke of midnight in Washington, a drooling red-eyed beast with the legs of a man and head of a giant hyena crawls out of its bedroom window in the South Wing of the White House and leaps 50 feet down to the lawn … pauses briefly to strangle the chow watchdog, then races off into the darkness…toward the Watergate, snarling with lust, loping through the alleys behind Pennsylvania Avenue and trying desperately to remember which one of those 400 iron balconies is the one outside Martha Mitchell's apartment.

Ah…nightmares, nightmares. But I was only kidding. The President of the United States would never act that weird. At least not during football season.

6.6. ’06: National Day of Slayer

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Slayer, dude! SLAYER!!!!!!!!!!! 

Technically, this only goes for the US, but I suggest we just take this the fuck global. Because it's SLAYER, dude, SLAYER!!!!!!

6.6.'06 is the National Day of Slayer

Official Statement on Participation

Who is Slayer

Slayer is a band from California. Their music has come to epitomize Satanic speed metal music in the latter half of the 20th Century. Their 1986 album, "Reign in Blood" is one of the single most influential metal albums of all time, typified by the modern classic "Angel of Death".

Official Statement on Participation

  • Listen to Slayer at full blast in your car.
  • Listen to Slayer at full blast in your home.
  • Listen to Slayer at full blast at your place of employment.
  • Listen to Slayer at full blast in any public place you prefer.DO NOT use headphones! The objective of this day is for everyone within earshot to understand that it is the National Day of Slayer. National holidays in America aren't just about celebrating; they're about forcing it upon non-participants.Taking that participation to a problematic level
  • Stage a "Slay-out." Don't go to work. Listen to Slayer.
  • Have a huge block party that clogs up a street in your neighborhood. Blast Slayer albums all evening. Get police cruisers and helicopters on the scene. Finish with a full-scale riot.
  • Spray paint Slayer logos on churches, synagogues, or cemeteries.
  • Play Slayer covers with your own band (since 99% of your riffs are stolen from Slayer anyway).
  • Kill the neighbor's dog and blame it on Slayer.

    • Tom Cruise will eat your placenta, bitch!

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    The Fuggers have done it again. Gawd, I love those bitches. And, since my partner in literary snark also ran off to get married, I feel a spiritual kinship to them.

    Now, if only I could write something half as funny as this. Alas, it's probably just the Bombay Sapphire that's holding me back. Yeah, that's it. Tom thinks I need more … vitamins:

    Mission Unfuggable III: A Play In Three Acts

    ACT ONE: THE SURPRISE ARRIVAL

    Tom Cruise sneaks up on PSH to eat his placenta

    The Place: The Mission Impossible III junket in Rome.  Unbeknownst to Philip Seymour Hoffman, his placid afternoon of talking to journalists about the role America's been dying to see him in — as the Man Who Beats the Shit Out of Tom Cruise — is about to be interupted by none other than Tom Cruise HIMSELF…

    But Tom is not alone. He has brought three things: his weird new bangs, his tight girl jeans, and his total divorce from reality.  He thinks,  "AT LAST! I have arrived to SAVE THIS PRESS JUNKET! I can just sneak up behind Hoffman and SAVE THESE GLIB JOURNALISTS FROM HIS REIGN OF TERROR If I'm very, very quiet, HE'LL NEVER KNOW WHAT HIT HIM. I'M A HERO! AGAIN!"Tom Cruise Psych

    I think Act Two is my favorite. Yep, this one is up there with the Lindsay Lohan/Sharon Stone Drunk post from Oscar night.

    The Day the Clown Smiled

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    Boomchucka, Jerusalem 

    Well thank god somebody did it. Stomped the hell out of the atrocity that is Jerry Lewis' The Day the Clown Cried. About bloody time, too. The tradition of the clown has been vindicated. Thanks to Psimon of the BoJo Blog for this info on the Boomchucka Circus:

    Chillyboo…Chillybah…Chilly bye byes…1st April 2006 Well it's all over now, over 50 shows in 3 months on a shoestring budget!!! Personally for me,It's been amazing, any doubts that I had about coming and doing Circus here have been blown away big time, so thanks to Jo Wilding and Boomchucka I now I have more reasons than ever to do this again, PS We would like to assure anyone who wants to join us in the future that no clowns were hurt during the making of this Circus, any rumours are not true and may involve large amounts of alcohol ;o-)

    Yes, all very ordinary until you realize those 50 shows took place in Palestine and Israel. Before that? Iraq. The Clowns Must Be Crazy!

    Boomchucka Bethlehem

    From The Economist:

    THE Jenin refugee compound, more than 50 years old and one of the oldest camps in Palestine, is home to 13,000 people, half of them under 15. It was the centre of some of the fiercest fighting during the second intifada, and even today many of its schools remain closed. When Israeli soldiers used to enter the camp, the children would automatically put down their schoolbooks and pick up stones… Boomchucka Circus, formerly Circus2Iraq, has been touring Israel and Palestine for two months. Originally from Britain, it is made up of six fools who answered an advertisement last November looking for performers to create a circus show for children living on both sides of the conflict. For the children, the show is a new experience: a humorous, high-energy piece of foolish theatre that transcends the boundaries of culture, language, age and race. But there are lessons for the actors as well. The troupe operates as a collective, with each clown funding his own way. Riding on buses, eating handouts on the street and sleeping on floors, often in return for nothing more than the offer of a chance to learn a little sleight of hand, has given the six actors a clearer insight into the daily lives of the local people and the reality of trying to conduct a relatively normal existence within a war zone than any number of subscriptions to 24-hour television ever could.

    Perhaps the politicians should sign up for the tour.

    Boomchucka, Jenin Refugee Camp

    Republican Jesus Speaks

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    And he sounds just like Oprah! Stolen from Jesus' General, a site whose comments section kicks the heathen ass of virtually every other comments section in the blogosphere, and I can prove it. And the General, like all right-thinking men, loves Trailer Park Boys. If I find out he's actually George Stephanopoulous, I may have to get out the Acme Stalker Kit. Kidding! I never put it away!

    Republican Jesus

    Proof that the General's troops are channelling divine wisdom:

    Max Shrubby

    Deciderata

    Don’t go placidly; create noise and haste,
    And remember, what? Peace there may be in leaks.
    As far as possible never surrender and
    Be on bad terms with all persons.
    Speak your lies quietly and clearly to Novak;
    And don’t listen to others,
    Even though you are dull and ignorant;
    You too have a story but have suppressed it or you’d be in prison.
    Hang out with loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the dems. Compare yourself with others, you vain and bitter chimp; for always there will be greater persons than yourself. You haven’t achieved crap with your plans.
    Stay bored in your own career, try not to stumble; in your case it is not a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Abandon caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery, anyway, so why worry ‘cause the debt will be $10 trillion before you plow this country into the ground. You are blinded to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals which you ignore; and everywhere life is full of heroism because of your bad, false decisions.
    You can’t be yourself. You used to get away with feigning affection. You are cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass you used to smoke.
    Ignore the advice of intelligent generals; ride your bike and listen to your ipod – bike around the world while you’re at it. You act like a baby in sudden misfortune. Distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond an unwholesome discipline, go rough on yourself ‘cause you deserve it.
    You are a C student of the university, MBAs know less than the trees and the TV stars; you don’t have a right to be here, but somehow you swam out of your dad’s ball sack. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should and Fitz is going to take the rest of your staff for a little ride to Algoa or similar prison for the rubber glove cavity search.
    Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Her to be, and whatever your labors and assolation, in the noisy confusion of life keep a piece within reach.
    With all the sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, you have projected on this country; it will be a beautiful world once you are out of office. Cheerful? You’re the lamest lame duck. Quack!
    Major McBug