Wednesday, June 29, 2005

the president asks us to be patient...

and i'd like to ask the president to kiss my hairy ass. actually, that's putting it lightly.

my little online news blurb says the president is asking us to be patient, that he can see a clear path to victory in iraq.

let me begin by saying that mr. bush's eyes are too close together and of a "shifty" and "beady" nature for him to see his own penis for a piss clearly, and follow that up by asking, "how many fucking times are we going to hear the word 'victory' attached to what is becoming nothing less than an atrocity in iraq?"

today, i had a wic (woman infant child) appointment. wic gives out checks for free milk and cereal to parents of young children who fall into a certain financial bracket, shall we say. (the between-the-lines there is that the government doesn't pay my wife shit for putting her life on the line for her country.) during a mandatory nutrition class, one of the young mothers received a cell-phone call. after returning from the call, she was very upset and distraught. her husband (i gather) who is in iraq serving in the army, had called to say that one of their friends attached to his division had passed away. more details than that, i do not have, not being one for prying into people's business.

but my big burning hemorrhoid of a question is this: "mr. president, how can you ask us to be patient as our sons and daughters die? how can you ask us to be patient as the hospitals fill up with our burned, dismembered, and maimed brothers and sisters? how can you ask us to be patient, who as a nation stood up and said this war was not right? how can you ask us to be patient as we tuck in our orphaned children? how can you ask us to be patient when the motherfucker who killed so many people in new york and washington dc with a couple of well-placed planes runs free because we are busy wasting manpower and funds in another country altogether? i want to see you come down, and personally ask the wife of the fallen soldier who was a friend to someone i've only met today to be patient. you can tell her all about how you see a 'clear path' to victory and explain how that makes any kind of fucking difference in her life."

no iraqi ever hurt me. no iraqi ever tried to take away my family. no iraqi ever affected my life in any way. yet i'm supposed to be patient while you see your clear fucking path to victory, what would this be? number 6?

in other news (and since i am in a pissy and fighting kind of mood), today i got an email from an old friend who has apparently gone completely off her nutter, saying she went to hear some dumb twat psychic speak. in her speech the dtp said that jesus didn't die on the cross, that he was nailed there for three hours, got down, married mary magdalene, and moved to france and had four kids. now, i believe jesus was married, and i believe he had kids (c'mon, there are 30 years completely unnacounted for, you don't think he got hitched?), but you can't argue with history, anthropology, science, and a little bit of anatomy. it is a) physically impossible for one to remove oneself from the cross once nailed there. unless, of course you are the son of god. i think that if you believe jesus was the one, then he was fully capable of doing it. but if he had, i guaranfuckingtee that would've made it into one of the gospels according to somebody, cause it would've only proved he was the son of god.

b) the romans weren't in the habit of crucifying somebody for a few hours "just to teach them a lesson". we oft forget that jesus wasn't the only fella that the romans crucified. it was a common punishment for all kinds of criminal offenses. they nailed you to a cross, left you out in the sun, waited around several hours while you alternated between screaming pain in your legs and being unable to breathe (if you guys need that one explained more, leave me comments, and i will further explain in detail the diabolical genius that is the torture of crucifixion), got sick of your pissing and moaning, and broke your legs so you would choke to death on your own fluids. in other words, once they hung you up there, you were there till you died. jesus was a big deal because he died on his own, they didn't have to break his legs.

now, the thing is, this is scientific fact that this was how it was done, for something like a thousand years. if you watch and listen closely in gladiator, crowe's character talks about the soldiers crucifying his wife and son. common practice. not something they only tried on jesus, and not the sort of thing he would've walked away from. though i would've liked to hear it happen like that scene in monty python's life of brian, "um, no crucifixion for me today, then." and off he goes.

i hate leaving a shitty night at work late and arriving home to a house full of sleeping people. i might start asking for one full weekend off a month, just so i can spend time with my wife and kids. i'm just sick of being abused at work, but then i could quit, except i'd have to find some other job which would probably suck more, so...

also, can anyone tell me how to spell cockamamy? (cockamammy? cockamamie? cockawhatever?) i used it in an email (a reply to the whole "jesus-hopping-off-the-cross-thing-and-toddling-off-to-france" thing), and no matter how i spelled it, it looked wrong. and i don't even know how to use spell-check on my computer, cause, overall anyways, i'm still a big fan of doing things the old way.

anyways, enough of my shit for one night,

darth sardonic


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