Killer Bees

17 04 2008

During a pissing contest with a cousin over Wu-Tang trivia recently, I happened across a Wikipedia article on Killer Bees in a Google search. Are you ready to get mad? Check this shit out:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Africanized_bee

If you’re an idiot like me and didn’t know that ‘killer bee’ is a colloquialism for ‘Africanized bee’, then the first thing you did was stare at your screen for five minutes in utter disbelief that the entomologist community would allow the terms ‘Killer’ and ‘Africanized’ to be used interchangeably.

After peeling your eyes away from the first sentence of the article, those same eyes were drawn to the image on the right side of the screen and, more importantly, the caption under that image. I’m sorry, but there’s no way that whoever wrote that caption didn’t do so with the intention of throwing out some thinly veiled tongue-in-cheek racism:

Figure 1: WHAT?!?!?!?!

Upon reading the caption, I could be heard in my condo screaming “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!?!?!” over and over again for at least ninety seconds. Leave it to a fucking ’scientific’ article about insects to, within the first ten seconds, paint ‘African’ bees as ruthless killers and then show these ill-tempered nigga-bees gangbanging a blushing (hence the pink spot) ‘European Queen’ like some twisted apian Spring Thomas* video.

Are you ready to get even MORE mad?!?!?!? Let’s get to the part of the article where we learn that the term ‘Africanized bee’ isn’t really even justifiable:

The Africanized bee in the western hemisphere descended from 26 Tanzanian queen bees (A. m. scutellata) accidentally released by a replacement bee-keeper in 1957 near Rio Claro, São Paulo State in the southeast of Brazil from hives operated by biologist Warwick E. Kerr, who had interbred honey bees from Europe and southern Africa. Hives containing these particular queens were noted to be especially defensive…Unfortunately, following the accidental release, the African queens eventually mated with local drones, and their descendants have since spread throughout the Americas.

This sentence is structured in a way to make you presume that the aggressiveness of killer bees is the fault of the African bees. But if you look closely, you’ll notice the following:

  • There is no mention anywhere that purely African bees are unusually aggressive or defensive
  • The local drones that raped the Tanzanian queens were European, since honey bees and their drones were introduced to Brazil by white people in 1622
  • Unusual aggression in the bees only happens when European and African varieties mix

So in other words, it would be equally appropriate to call killer bees ‘Europeanized Bees’ or ‘Cracka Bees’ or ‘Maniacally Genocidal Rapers, Pillagers, and Enslavers of Land, Culture, and Humanity Bees’ - but no, racist motherfuckers back in the day decided to be assholes and call them ‘Africanized’. Ain’t that a bitch? The article even goes on to say:

The popular term ‘Africanized bee’ has only limited scientific meaning today because there is no generally accepted fraction of genetic contribution used to establish a cut-off. While the native African bees are smaller, and build smaller comb cells, than the European bee, their hybrids are not smaller. They do have slightly shorter wings, which can be reliably recognized only by performing a statistical analysis on micro-measurements of a substantial sample.

In other words, the Africanized bees don’t even fucking LOOK LIKE African bees - they look like European bees!

If this whole situation isn’t a comic foil for the history of black and white race relations in America, then I don’t know what the hell is. See if this story sounds familiar:

  1. Europeans trap African females and bring them to the New World
  2. The African females are forced to mate with European males
  3. The children born of these rapes are stigmatized and rejected by the Europeans
  4. To maintain the purity of the Europeans, they consider anyone with one drop of African blood to be African, no matter how white he looks
  5. The Afro-European hybrids are now disaffected and pissed off. They move to Los Angeles and go fucking nuts

Am I talking about people? Bees? Both?

Figure 2: Kindred Spirits

Racist motherfuckers.

*Spring Thomas is a gorgonian white pornstar famous for a.) getting gangbanged by enormous black dudes and b.) calling them all kinds of racist shit as she’s having sex with them. Special thanks to my good friend ‘The Unkle’ for scarring my eyeballs with images of her holocaust of a cooter.


Comments : 99 Comments »
Tags :
Categories : Racism

The Gym

16 04 2008

I didn’t realize just how awful the gym (or more accurately, the people in it) is until my trip to the local WSC last night.

Figure 1: Hell Hole

There’s some fairly ridiculous egotistical behavior that goes on when people work out, but for the most part I’ve been willing to overlook the flaws of others ever since what I did during The Incident*. Then last night I saw something that set me over the fucking edge:

I was taking a rest from a set of burpees (which I was performing on the same mats I vomited on a year ago) and gazing blankly over the railing. There was a relatively scrawny white dude running at about 7mph on a treadmill when a dude bearing an eerie likeness to Mario Lopez jumps on the treadmill next to him and turns the fucking thing up to like 15mph. He is running on his heels and making an incredible amount of noise. I turn away and do another set of burpees to the rhythmic tune of Mario Lopez destroying his knees. After resting for 30 seconds and getting ready to start another set, I see Mario Lopez bring his treadmill to a halt, turn to the little white guy and say, I shit you not:

“You need to pick up the pace, buddy! You’re gonna be a waif forever at that speed, DUDE.”

…and walks away. I nearly vomited again.

Seeing this asshole reminded me of all the different types of people in the gym that need to die, and I’m going to list them all right here and right now before I lose my fucking mind.

Asshole #1: Spin Top

This is the guy who is 300lbs of solid muscle from the waist up and is 15lbs of bone and tendon below the waist, thus giving him the appearance of a spin top. In spite of his femoral shortcomings, this motherfucker thinks he’s the baddest guy in the gym because he can bench press twice his own weight for reps. He wants you to ignore the fact that his legs are buckling under the weight of his massive torso (and narcissism), which is why he’s always a.) sitting down looking at himself in the mirror and b.) wearing long pants.


Figure 2: Everybody’s seen this guy

Asshole #2: The Man Moaner/Screamer

Every now and again you’ll get a guy in the gym who simply must let everyone know just how difficult each and every rep is. That’s when you’ll be minding your own business and hear some idiot bleat out “uuuuuuuuUUUUNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHH” like somebody’s shoving a pineapple up his ass and he’s kinda enjoying it. That’s the Man Moaner.

Then there’s the guy who sounds like he’s having a pineapple shoved up his ass, but he isn’t enjoying it at all. That’s when you hear the “AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” of the Man Screamer. This asshole is usually wearing one of those stupid leather weight belts, a raggedy baseball cap worn backwards, a severely undersized wifebeater that’s struggling to cling to his body, and really really really tight biker shorts. You’ll also notice the blood vessels in his neck, forehead, and forearms to be inordinately large, which is why women often mistake his penis for a ramen noodle.

Figure 3: Man Screamer

Asshole #3: Leather Girl

This is the white girl with an inordinate amount of muscle and orange skin with the texture of an old leather wallet. All these chicks look the same: between 5′4″ and 5″8″, thin muscular build, orange skin, freckles, Underarmour workout gear consisting of the tummy-revealing top and tight pants that flare out to bell bottoms at the mid-calf, etc. They’re almost always brunette, but you’ll get the occasional blond and even redhead.

Figure 4: Her dick is bigger than mine

You are convinced that these chicks LIVE in the gym, because everytime you’re there…they’re there. They will be there when you arrive, and they will be there when you leave. When you come back three hours later because you left something in a locker, they’re STILL there. When you drive past the gym on the way to work in the morning, they’re hanging dormant by the ankles from the building’s rafters waiting for the gym to open. If you’re a guy you briefly think about trying to have sex with one of them. But then you realize that she kinda looks like a man, and she probably feels like sandpaper on the inside.

Asshole #4: Unnecessary Stretching Girl

There’s always that motherfucking chick in the gym contorting her body into positions that are as senseless as they are impractical. Typcially, these poses are flagrantly sexual, and the guys in the gym have to fight themselves to keep from ogling her and thinking about how she’d look in that pose naked and on top of you.


Figure 5: You cruel fuck

This girl is not a gymnast, she is not in training to become a gymnast, nor does she even know what gymnastics is. All she’s doing is placing her butt and vagina into positions that make you say “hmmm…” and waiting for the opportunity to catch you checking her out so she can get indignant and pretend to have no idea why you would possibly be staring at her.

Asshole #5: The Bold and the Bare-Chested

You don’t usually see this in public/membership gyms, but if you’re like me and have a private gym in your condo, then chances are you’re going to see some fucker on the equipment with his goddamn shirt off. For some reason, it’s never the hot chicks with the big boobies that exercise bare chested - it’s always some nasty old dude with leathery skin and more hair on his chest than any normal man has on his entire head and body.

Figure 6: Struttin’ to a gym near you

These people leave a cubic meter of sweat on whatever machine they were using. They wipe themselves off with a towel, but never EVER the equipment. Guess they figure a little man juice marinating on the recumbent bike will make everyone else stronger. I’m going to start putting itching powder, sulfuric acid, and leeches all over the equipment in my gym. Bare skin will be punished quickly and with extreme prejudice.

*About a year ago I was in training for the powwow season and decided to do the Spartan Workout - a weightlifting regimen modeled after that used by the guys that starred in the movie ‘300′. It was about 11pm and the gym was virtually deserted when I’d just finished my second set of 100 straight excruciating reps of heavy compound exercises, and my body officially told me to go fuck myself. I knew I was going to throw up, but between me and the bathroom was a good 10 yards, a stairwell, and another 20 yards in the opposite direction. Ever so gingerly, I sprinted to the stairs and flew down the stairs as fast as I could without jiggling my stomach. I failed. At the bottom of the stairs I threw up in my mouth but somehow managed to swallow it. I made it about halfway to the bathroom before my stomach decided to re-heave the vomit I’d just swallowed…and then some. This time it was more than I could hold in my mouth. I vomited all over the rubber mats in the stretching area of the Capitol Hill WSC and, since I was still running, a good amount of it wound up on my pants and shirt. I went to the bathroom, cleaned up as best I could, and tried to walk out of the gym with a big stupid smile on my face like nothing happened. I spent the next six weeks training at home out of fear of being recognized.


Comments : 96 Comments »

Categories : Sports

Taxes

15 04 2008

I’m getting rammed in the ass yet again this tax season, this time owing the federal and DC governments over $1,000 in fucking goddamn taxes in addition to the withholding I already have to put up with.

Figure 1: All of us

The second most rage-inducing day of the year for most salaried Americans is the day they look at their W-2s and see exactly how much the government is taking out of their incomes. The number one rage-inducing day comes the day right after that, when you realize what the federal and local governments are doing with your stolen money:

  • Unleashing entire congressional committees on baseball players for steroid use, as if anyone gives a shit
  • Spending $255 million PER DAY on a bogus and unwinnable war in Iraq, much of which the Pentagon freely admits to wasting
  • Spending $67 million PER DAY on a bogus and unwinnable war in Afghanistan that, for some odd reason, nobody is fucking talking about anymore
  • Pretending to chase Osama Bin Laden through the mountains of Pakistan/Afghanistan when, in all likelihood, he’s getting a hummer from Jenna Bush in the White House as I type
  • Giving the Department of Homeland Security a $46.4 billion budget for 2008, nearly all of which will be wasted. I once worked a DHS contract with Lockheed Martin that billed 11,000 man-hours in 13 months at an average of $120 per hour. Not a single deliverable had been produced by the time I got fed up and left Lockheed to work with private and non-profit clients. No one was ever fired as a result of any of this.

I could go on forever.

Figure 2: This cat, like the IRS, should not exist

What amazes me about American political leadership is this:

  • Bill Clinton lies under oath in civil deposition regarding a sex scandal, and is impeached
  • George W. Bush starts ‘pre-emptive’ wars on multiple fronts after orchestrating attacks on the WTC and Pentagon*, runs the federal deficit into the TRILLIONS of dollars, allows thousands of American soldiers and HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF IRAQIS to die under false pretenses, withdraws from the Kyoto protocol and claims global warming “ain’t happenin’” while proposing manned missions to Mars for some fucking reason, and single handedly drives the American economy face-first into the ground while sitting over TWO recessions during his term…AND THIS DUDE IS BARELY BEING QUESTIONED ABOUT IT WHEN HE SHOULD BE TRIED FOR WAR CRIMES, NOT TO EVEN MENTION IMPEACHMENT!

What’s more, MY FUCKING TAX DOLLARS ARE PAYING FOR THIS SHIT

Personally, I believe in reparations, but not in the traditional sense. I don’t want a giant lump sum of inflation adjusted dollars for the forced labor of my ancestors distributed evenly among hard working black people who’d put the money to good use and stupid ass black people who should be lit on fire.

Figure 3: Somebody gimme a match…

I simply believe that reparations should consist of the following:

1. If you a.) are black, b.) can prove your direct descent from a black American slave, and c.) can prove the victimization of a direct ancestor by Jim Crow in the south or de facto segregation in the north within two generations - you never ever have to pay income taxes again

2. If you a.) are Native Amercian and b.) can INDIVIDUALLY prove a Native blood quantum of 1/4 or higher - you never ever have to pay income taxes again

This, of course, will never happen.

Instead, I have to sit here fuming at the big red font on Turbo Tax that says “Federal Tax Due: $1,014.98″ while suppressing the urge to smash my head through the monitor.

*In general I am not a conspiracy nut, but I believe wholeheartedly in the 911 conspiracy. People tell me I’m nuts to think that Bush would kill thousands of American citizens just to get his hands on more oil/money and to tighten his authoritarian grip on the country. I tell people that they’re nuts for not believing he’d kill a whole lot more American citizens for a whole lot less. This is because I believe George W. Bush and those in his inner circle to be genuinely evil people in the classic, polarized, and unequivocal sense of the term ‘genuine evil’ that you see in the villains of cartoons like He-Man. History has shown that there is no limit to what evil white people will do to get what they want.


Comments : 227 Comments »
Tags : ,
Categories : Government

Restaurant Snobs

14 04 2008

A restaurant snob may not be what you think. It’s not one of those people who, when they go to restaurants, must go to the most expensive one on the fucking planet and will settle only for a seven course French supper complete with caviar, champagne, snotty French waiter dressed in a tuxedo and a goddamn sommelier named ‘Henri’ (pronounced ‘Ohn Rhee’ - a suspiciously Asian-sounding name for a Frog).

Figure 1: Is secretly Korean

A restaurant snob is far more common: one of those fucking assholes who’s constantly attending ‘Restaurant Week’ events - so to render this definition complete, we must define Restaurant Week.

Restaurant Week occurs in major cities throughout the country, and is a week-long culinary fuck fest in which yuppie douchebags blow sunshine up each others asses for three damn hours at upscale restaurants that make them feel wordly and sophisticated by offering prix fixe menus and wines/cheeses that nobody’s ever fucking heard of before.

Figure 2: Warming up at the bar before prime-time douchebaggery

Aside: Prix Fixe Menus

Prix Fixe menus are a stepping stone on the way to fascism. Prix fixe menus are popular in Europe because fascism has been popular there for so long. Why then, are these menus becoming popular here? Simple: laziness and indecision (which, incidentally, lead to fascism). Have you ever watched a yuppie try to order food? It’s fucking EXCRUCIATING as they pick apart every goddamn thing on the menu as if their choice of what to eat tonight is as important as the decision to push the big red button to launch all of America’s nukes at Iran.

I’ll hear this idiot ask me over and over again “whaddyou think about [stupid entree #1]? I’m thinking about ordering a glass of [stupid obscure wine #1] or [stupid obscure wine #2], but I dunno if [stupid entree #1]‘ll compliment it. Maybe I should just get [stupid entree #2]…shoot, what should I do?”

I’ll tell you what you should do. You should make a fucking decision before I jam Henri’s corkscrew in your eye.

Figure 3: Cure for indecisiveness, or Fascism’s Outbreak Monkey?

You’d think, then, that Prix Fixe menus would make me happy. You’d be wrong. Because instead of making people grow up and learn to make decisions, prix fixe menus just take the decision away from these people altogether. They never actually LEARN to make decisions, they’re just given fewer choices. This makes people stupid, and as people get more and more accustomed to the ease of effectively ‘deciding’ on things that were actually decided upon in a smoke filled room somewhere, fascism is gonna pop up. The same people who like prix fixe menus are gobblers of Mussolini’s cock.

End Aside


The only thing more annoying than a restaurant snob is two restaurant snobs in the same fucking room. God forbid you get two of these motherfuckers together and they discover each other to be restaurant snobs. These pompous shitbricks will hijack whatever conversation was going on previously and spend the rest of the time talking about goddamn expensive food and quizzing each other about the fare at restaurants with stupid names like ‘Oya’ or ‘Lima’. For each restaurant snob, the goal of these conversations is a.) to mention a restaurant that the other snob hasn’t been to and thereby demonstrate superior snobbery, and/or b.) reinforce their opinion of “OMIGOD! The filet creme fraische was soooooooo GOOD!”.

During their little game of grabass, one of the snobs will say something to the other snob like “the BEST scallops in the city are at [stupid fucking restaurant]…”. Then this shit hole will turn to you, whom now sports a soulless and glazed over countenance reminiscent of Keanu Reeves, and ask that oh-so-condescending question - “Have you ever been to [stupid fucking restaurant]?” In the old days, I used to be nice. I’d smile and just say, in the whitest voice I could muster, “No I haven’t, but it sounds DELISH!”

Nowadays I just say fucked up shit like “Yea I’ve been once. I had the fish vagina. The taste was as predictable as the name is redundant.”

Then there is silence from the restaurant snobs, and I am happy again.

Figure 4: A friend and I celebrating our torpedoing of a restaurant snob conversation


Comments : 65 Comments »
Tags : ,
Categories : Food

Sex & the City

11 04 2008

I’ll admit this up front: I watch Sex & the City.

I don’t watch it, however, because I enjoy the silly comedic moments or the idiot-savant romantic insights of Carrie fucking Bradshaw. Instead, I watch Sex & the City because after working 8 hours in the office and up to another 5 hours at home and spending another 3 hours sewing beads on my dance regalia, there are only three things that can put a smile on my face:

  1. Sex. I don’t have a girlfriend and I’m too lazy for one night stands, so this is out.
  2. Pancakes. Under the imminent threat of diabeetus and weight gain, I usually don’t eat bread after noon if I can help it.
  3. Self-destructive behavior of unreasonable white women. This is the living definition of Sex & the City.

Figure 1: Vaginitus Douchebitchicus Caucasus Maximus Quadruplicus.

I was perfectly content to watch the four unattractive hags* that star in the show blunder their way through life from now until the Rapture. The general unhappiness of these women made me happy enough to overlook the implausibility of four essentially sociopathic women all having very successful careers that involve - get this - dealing with other people.

Then I had an epiphany: Sex & the City is a white woman’s visual manifesto of classism and racism.

For now, I’m going to skip the classism part because if I were to contemplate it long enough, I will lose my shit. So instead I’ll just focus on the flagrant racism in this motherfucking show.

In my memory, there were four black characters who had speaking parts that lasted more than ten damn seconds - and this is where the racism starts. Sex & the City’s conspicuously unrealistic absence of black people in NEW YORK CITY is surpassed only by that of the partial-birth abortion of a show called ‘Friends’. The popularity among white women of these shows combined with the popularity of New York shows us exactly what white women are looking for:

Figure 2: Fuckers.

But let’s get beyond that and look at the few black characters that were in the show.

Brother and Sister: there was an episode where Samantha (the village bicycle of the show) decided to date a black guy. I can’t remember what he did for a living, but I’m pretty sure I remember it involving sports, and he was very successful. He was an all around good guy.

This man had a sister - a very attractive black woman who, I shit you not, spent the entire show yelling, waving her neck, and snapping her fingers at Samantha loudly and in inappropriate venues telling her that she didn’t want to see “another good brother taken by a white girl.” In the end, it was actually the MAN who capitulated to his sister’s wishes and broke up with Samantha.

  • What black people see: a white woman taking yet another of the endangered species of good, eligible black men, and the sister rightly getting her brother to come to his senses.
  • What white people see: domineering racist ghetto negro wench hates white people for no good reason, and her weak willed negro man-child of a brother is too much of a pussy to stand up to her. Black women are crazy, black men are sissies.

Navy Boy: in one episode, the four Itchy Vaginas come across a bunch of model-worthy male sailors wearing Navy jumpers walking around aimlessly in midtown, because apparently this shit happens all the fucking time. The sailors invite the IVs to some party that night. The main character, Carrie, spends the whole time at the party dancing with some black pretty boy sailor from Louisiana who looks like a shrunken-down version of The Rock wearing a fruity sailor outfit.

At the end of the night, Carrie and The Pebble are talking outside the lounge. Sounding like a lost puppy, the guy asks her, in nearly as many words, “can I please come home with you tonight?” Carrie, who has had uncountably many one night stands with dudes straight out of hotchickswithdouchebags.com, rejects this guy - opting instead to go home and, for all I know, masturbate to videos of black men being attacked with dogs and fire hoses during the March to Montgomery.

  • What black people see: black man far and away out of Carrie’s league gets rejected by her for no particular reason at all. Sheer racism (or comeuppance, since overly attractive black men should not be passing up black women to fuck with white girls that look like an incarnate Australopithecus exhibit.)
  • What white people see: horny black navy boy is on shore leave and wants to invade the Antarctic. Carrie, who is pure and white as the driven snow, rejects his coontastical advances and remains ever unpenetrated by the black torpedo.

Sports Man: GASP! A RECURRING BLACK CHARACTER! That’s right everybody, Sex & the City featured for several episodes a dark, intelligent, extremely well-paid, highly educated black man with more moral character than Jesus himself…dating Miranda, aka the fugliest of member of the cast, for several weeks.

FIgure 3: I saw her face, and my dick evaporated.

Sports man is called ‘Sports Man’ because he’s an orthopedist for the Knicks. This makes sense because black men can’t be successful unless it either directly or obliquely involves sports. Miranda is constantly getting jealous of Sports Man because all the white cheerleaders on the Knicks are all over his jock. But he remains ever faithful to this red headed sea monster, eventually even popping the ‘L’ word on her. She freaks out, and breaks up with him to make babies with Woody Allen’s ugly twin.

  • What black people see: a ferociously attractive, successful, and loyal black man gets his heart farted on by the last living child of the corn in a combination of bullshit, racism, and karma.
  • What white people see: the Superman of black people is not good enough even for the ugliest, most judgmental, type A ho-bag in the entire Itchy Vagina Ensemble. Black people are shit. High five!

I can’t fucking take it anymore. It’s time for me to drive to NYC and scalp Sarah Jessica Parker.

Figure 4: Maybe there’s a fourth thing that can put a smile on my face…

*My father hates Sarah Jessica Parker and everything about her. If you ever meet the terrifying man that is my father and you want to immediately make him like you - insult Sarah Jessica Parker. If you want him to LOVE you, call her an “intolerable horse-faced pussy smuggler who belongs in a zoo rather than on television”.


Comments : 198 Comments »
Tags :
Categories : Film, Pop-Culture, Racism

X-TREME SPORTS!

10 04 2008

One of the most annoying fucking things about X-Treme sports is that you can’t just say “Extreme Sports” in a normal tone of voice. This is completely unacceptable. When you’re talking about X-Treme sports and actually mention the genre by name, you have to scream “X-TREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEME SPORTS!!!!” at the top of your lungs, chug a can of Surge, crush the can on your forehead, use your eye sockets to open your buddy’s beer, then use your penis to build a house. If you don’t, you are a pussy.

Figure 1: X-TREME CONFERENCE CALL!!!!!!!

Black people typically blame white people for starting the ridiculousness that is x-treme sports, but the blame doesn’t lie with white people. X-treme sports had a dual-genesis among two games played stupid fucking Native Americans.

First, there was a form of handball played in pre-Columbian central America. These crazy assholes would divide themselves into two teams and try to chuck a tiny ball between a stone ring mounted on a wall. It’s almost like those rigged and semi-unintentionally sexual carnival games where you have to throw balls into the mouth of the life-sized cardboard cutout of a woman…except people who play the carnival game aren’t ritualistically killed for losing (usually). This is the world of Aztec handball.

Figure 2: Blow the game, and you’ll lose way more than your fucking Nike endorsement.

Then there was lacrosse - and I’m not talking about the pussy ass stickball game played by khaki shorts wearing white dudes named ‘Todd’. This was real lacrosse. Indian lacrosse. A game so hardcore it was called Dehuntshigawa’es (which translates roughly to ‘little brother of war’). The games were so brutal that rival Indian nations would often play lacrosse instead of going to war. The field could be miles long. There could be HUNDREDS of players on EACH side. There were no pads, no rules, and no fucking mercy. People routinely died playing the game.

Figure 3: (l to r) X-Treme, X-Tremely Gay

After white people killed all the Indians and the Vietnam War ended, white people concluded that their lives weren’t being threatened often enough anymore - so they decided to steal yet another Indian tradition and endanger their own lives through sport. They started doing shit like jumping out of planes, hurling themselves off bridges, and starting shitty alternative rock bands for no goddamn reason. They disguised the inherent stupidity of these acts by giving them cool names like ’skydiving’ , ‘bungee jumping’, and ‘Linkin Park’.

Figure 4: Betcha he’s got an X-TREME HARD ON!!!!!!!!!

Modern X-treme sports are particularly offensive to the segment of black people who grew up in dangerous neighborhoods. These black people grew up having their lives under constant threat against their will: being shot at for wearing the wrong color shirt, getting beaten half to death for not joining gangs (or beaten completely to death for doing the opposite), hearing nighttime gunshots which, at any point, could shatter your window and kill someone in your family, and so forth. After surviving all this, we have to put up with spoiled white people subjecting themselves to life-threatening idiocy ON PURPOSE under the trite explanation “TEE HEE, IT’S SUCH A THRILL! YOU SHOULD TRY IT!”

No thanks, fuckface. I’m already black.

Jumping out of an airplane for ‘fun’ is like shaving your head in front of a chemotherapy patient just for the hell of it.


Comments : 126 Comments »
Tags : , , , ,
Categories : Sports

Subtle Racism III: Asian Chicks

9 04 2008

There are exactly five categories of asian women in America*:

  1. Ones that only date asian people (35%)
  2. Ones that only date white people (35%)
  3. Ones that will date outside their race, but only if they’re white (20%)
  4. Ones that freely date anyone of any race (1%)
  5. Ones that date anyone of any race, but consider it a public service (9%)

Category 5 is the one I’m going to jump up and down on today.

I’ve had the pleasure (and misfortune) of dating exactly four asian women, one of whom I nearly married. My skin color left me eligible only to the ten percent in categories 4 and 5, and unfortunately only one of them was in category 4.

The one category 4 girl had a hard life growing up. Both her parents were killed in Vietnam while trying to escape the country during the war. As such, this girl grew up with a very low bullshit tolerance that, among many other things, kept her from being willing to filter her dating pool based on race. She also views the war as the fault of white people - so unlike many asian females, she never bought into the idea of superiority of the white male (see Subtle Racism I)***.

Figure 1: You prefer THIS GUY over an asian dude?!?!?!?!?

The other three chicks were category 5’s. Being slow as I am sometimes, I didn’t even realize that category 5 existed until fairly recently when I unexpectedly found myself with a lot of free time to think. I know there are some black men reading this blog that are dating asian women. I hope I’m not blowing up your spot or anything, but take a moment to examine the following warning signs that you might be dating a Cat 5:

  • She tells you that none of her friends date black people
  • She tells you she had apprehensions about dating black people
  • She tells you her parents don’t approve of her dating you
  • She tells you about how often she defends her relationship with you to her parents and/or friends

Granted, there’s nothing wrong with a girl telling you these things in and of themselves. There’s also nothing wrong with the girl telling you these things if you happen to ask. What’s wrong about these statements is her motivation in telling you when she does so a.) for no apparent reason, or b.) when you get in an argument with her.

All four of the statements above have a single sentence as their lowest common denominator:

“I am doing your black ass a favor by being so kind as to date you.”

This statement is two parts racist, one part hubris. I’ve dated women of every race on the planet (except for middle-easterners), and my experience has been that this “doing you a favor” attitude is held ONLY by Cat 5 asian women. This can be blamed on exactly three things:

  1. White men
  2. Jim Kelly
  3. Viacom

White dudes have been obsessed with asian women ever since the occupation of Japan after WWII. Japanese women were an exotic, submissive, and a swanky alternative to Rosie-inspired American women who were justifiably asserting more and more independence and putting up with less and less bullshit.

Figure 2: Personally…I’ll take Rosie.

Cold War conflicts in Korea, Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia gave them even more yellow fever as refugees poured into the U.S. and made them easily accessible. Today, an asian woman is the most highly coveted prize of a white man, which is ironic because of how easy it is for them to obtain this prize. Asian girls will date virtually ANY white dude no matter how ugly he is and no matter how much of a jerk he is; the only thing that matters is that he’s white and a yuppie. For white people, finding an asian woman to date is like finding water in the ocean.

Black men have never been obsessed with asian women; it’s been more of a fascination. It started with Jim Kelly in Enter the Dragon - specifically the scene with him lounging around in his kung fu pimp hut with a flock of hot asian chicks from Hai Phong or some shit (anybody else find it fucked up that the only black character in Enter the Dragon was lynched?).

Figure 3: God hates you.

Anyhow, Viacom took over after that. Every tritely sexual black music video since 1994 has included semi-nude asian girls (or black girls with ‘chinky eyes’) re-enacting the kung fu pimp hut scene of Enter the Dragon in some form or another, pushing an asian ideal of female beauty on black men that we don’t even really accept in the first place.

Figure 4: This is NOT what we should be shooting for.

This six-decade epidemic of yellow fever has left the modern asian woman with a sense of her own beauty as overinflated as a black woman’s is underinflated. Anyone that’s ever been to a mixed club has experienced the stratospheric ego of even the ugliest asian female. But while they have a humble attitude toward white men (who they view as superior), they have a princess-and-the-pauper attitude when it comes to black dudes (who they view as inferior). What makes this so infuriating is the fact that, beyond having a college degree, 99% OF ASIAN WOMEN DON’T HAVE ANYTHING BLACK MEN WANT:

  • Booty
  • Boobs
  • Lips
  • Skin tone between honey and dark dark chocolate
  • Rhythm
  • Humility
  • Basic knowledge of (good) hiphop, r&b, neo-soul, jazz, and black theater
  • Basic knowledge of social, economic, and political issues confronting black people
  • Cooking skills
  • A sense of humor

While I and other black men like me, notwithstanding the fact that we aren’t white, have EVERYTHING they want…

  • Height
  • Lips (asian girls don’t admit they want this)
  • Butt (asian girls don’t admit they want this)
  • Rhythm
  • “Street Cred”
  • Wit
  • High income
  • College degree
  • Culture
  • Appreciation for the classical arts

My new purpose in life is to, on behalf of every asian man and black man subjected to an asian girl’s bullshit, be an unmitigated asshole to these women for as long as I live.

I need a black girlfriend, a bottle of wine, and whole lot of fucking therapy.

*This is according to the research firm Carlyle, Fisk & Rhodes**
**This research firm does not actually exist
***It should be noted that her sister did buy into it, and is dating the 2nd stupidest looking white man I have ever seen


Comments : 309 Comments »
Tags :
Categories : Racism

The Chicken

8 04 2008

My life hit a new low point last Friday.

I was at a club called The Park with a Vietnamese friend of mine who I call “Chicken Jon”. He earned this name after displaying, over a period of several years, a disturbing affinity toward fried chicken and red/purple Kool-Aid - especially for an asian person*.

Figure 1: Chicken Jon

Chicken Jon and I were on the second floor of the club (the only one that plays hiphop, if you’re thinking about going) when we noticed a pair of women behind us dancing at a table. Both of them were fairly drunk and neither of them was being very subtle about trying to get our attention, as they were both doing some weird strip-tease type dance on their chairs while constantly looking at, in particular, Chicken Jon.

Most heterosexual men in this position would’ve sauntered over to the table and started chatting the girls up with the intention of getting their phone numbers or even going home with them. Not Chicken Jon and I. No - we started making downright Byzantine plans to steal their juicy and delicious chicken tenders, which come free with cheese and grapes whenever you order a bottle at a table.

You heard it correctly: our desire to eat chicken trumped our desire for sex in a battle of internalized primal urges, and the contest wasn’t even fucking close.

Figure 2: Better than sex

Chicken Jon and I spent the next thirty drunken minutes off and on trying to figure out how to chat the girls up in a way that would lead to us getting their chicken. Of course, we were too drunk to actually decide on a course of action, and instead spent most of the time pointing and laughing at Indian people (they amuse Chicken Jon to no end, and for God knows what reason) and dudes wearing stunna shades. The night ended with the girls and their chicken disappearing, and Chicken Jon and I exiting the club both angry and hungry.

Some years ago, Dave Chappelle did a skit about black people being afraid or embarrassed to order chicken in the presence of white people because of the stereotypes involved. They’re even afraid to profess their love for it, as in StuffEBPLike.com’s claim that educated black people love baked chicken more than fried chicken - a claim which, with all love and respect to Charlee, is bullshit. Charlee even told me later that as she wrote the baked chicken post, she was gnawing orgasmically on a fried chicken drumstick like a half-starved badger**. All in all, our collective shame regarding fried chicken has never actually stopped us from eating it when we wanted it (which is all the fucking time), and has even prompted a few of us to eat it in inappropriate places out of spite.

The following is an abridged list of poultry-pertinent idiocy indulged in by my friends, family, and self:

  • Snuck an entire box of Popeye’s chicken into a movie theater (my cousins and I)
  • Walked along a beach in Spain eating a bucket of KFC per person (myself, Chicken Jon, and a friend we call ‘The Puppy’, see figure 3)
  • Ordered $300+ table/bottle service at The Park twice, looking forward more to the chicken than the liquor (me)
  • Swore loudly in front of old folks at a family gathering upon hearing fried chicken would not be served (my father)
  • Sent his youngest son 20 miles away to buy three buckets of chicken upon hearing fried chicken would not be served at a family gathering (my father)
  • Stormed into a tiny African chicken joint dressed in full native dance regalia and smelling like a stack of sweaty man-asses angrily demanding copious amounts of fried chicken (Admiral Furious and I)
  • Bludgeoned her youngest grandson with a rolled up newspaper for ‘eyeing her chicken sideways’ (my grandmother)
  • Demanded his friends take 20+ pictures of him downing, by himself, a 12 or 18-piece chicken box from Popeyes(?) (Chicken Jon)

Figure 3: You thought I was kidding…

Fried chicken makes us do stupid fucking things, and that’s why we hate it. We’ll pass up sex, risk getting kicked out of movie theaters, swear in front of family matriarchs, scare the shit out of unsuspecting Africans, and beat our grandchildren with heavy objects to get it.

It’s fried crack and we know it’s bad for us - but if you try to take it away, we will fucking murder you.

*This, combined with his love of old school hiphop, BBQ, Hennessy, Alize, Ben’s Chili Bowl, big-booty Filipina women and, notwithstanding the items above, a general hatred of everything, makes Chicken Jon legally black.

**This almost certainly did not happen.


Comments : 138 Comments »
Tags :
Categories : Food

Carbon Trading

7 04 2008

For those who don’t know what carbon trading is, I’ll give a brief step-by-step summary:

  1. Governments around the world impose limits on carbon emissions from various businesses
  2. Some businesses emit below the limits, and the difference between the limit and actual production is turned into carbon credits
  3. Carbon credits can be sold to businesses that emit above the limit
  4. Sanctimonious fucking yuppie white people become ‘carbon traders’, acting as intermediaries trading carbon credits between businesses, while claiming to be ’saving the environment while making money, too’

I was listening to NPR this morning when some mid-twenties carbon trading shitbox made the ’saving the environment while making money’ claim, and I nearly drove my car off a fucking overpass. This asswipe actually said, on a national radio program, that being a middle man was helping to SAVE THE PLANET! By stepping in and increasing the cost of trading carbon credits (and, by extension, placing downward political pressure on governments lowering their limits even further), you think you’re actually helping the environment somehow? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!?

Figure 1: Yuppies trading their mothers’ souls

Stuffwhitepeoplelike.com definitely dips down from the airy realm of dry satire into earthy swamp of cold reality when the site states, repeatedly, that there’s a certain type of white person out there who just loves to delude himself into believing he can save the world by doing practically nothing. Listening to this NPR bit about carbon trading was almost like hearing SWPL.com come to life in physical form: they were interviewing three white people on public radio who were having a dinner party, drinking wine nobody’s ever heard of, eating some kind of fish that probably doesn’t actually exist (I’m sure a SWPL article on ‘rare fish’ will be coming out eventually), and talking about how carbon credits would help developing countries while listening to the soothing sounds of obscure fucking Indie music playing in the background.

The last time I was this close to vomiting while sober…I was an infant.

Figure 2: How I feel every single time I listen to NPR

I wonder when people are going to get it through their thick fucking skulls that society’s collective adjustment to climate change will not be a lateral move - it will be a backward one. There’s going to come a point when we simply have to cut back on consumption and take it in the ass for awhile as technology catches up.

Nobody wants to do this, though, because we’ve all been spoiled since World War II. No one in this country has had to make any real sacrifices for the collective good since then (notwithstanding certain parts of the civil rights movement), and now everyone either thinks a.) collective sacrifice never has to be made, or b.) collective sacrifice should be voluntary (which is damn near an oxymoron). This is complete and utter horse shit, especially the second one. While I personally haven’t, for example, given up my car - I will happily and enthusiastically comply with any future environmentally-based U.S. government mandate to do so. Short of such a mandate, voluntary concessions of personal conveniences by the scant few that can afford to do so are akin to throwing a handful of sand on a beach.

Figure 3: What it’s going to come to…

To this end, I really wish George Dubyah had been an environmentalist - because instead of terrifying the American public about terrorism (ironic, no?) for the purposes of oil exploration, he’d have instead terrified us about impending doom from climate change, and we’d all be riding horses and bicycles by now…

…and those fucking yuppie pricks on NPR would be out of work.


Comments : 91 Comments »

Categories : Environment

Traffic

4 04 2008

You’ve been at work for nine hours. You sat at your goddamn desk the whole time doing whatever the hell it is you do for a living. You survived the pointless meetings, filling out timesheets and TPS reports, and the inane conversations with co-workers that neither of you want to participate in yet you both feel obligated to start.

You get in your car happy in the knowledge that you finally get to go home. You’ll get to cook dinner, read a little, watch some TV, exercise, and otherwise goof off. But before that happens, you know you’re going to have to deal with this:

traffic.jpg

Figure 1: MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!

If you live in any major metro area and are unfortunate enough to leave work at the height of rush hour, you are going to run into traffic and you are going to want to kill everyone within a ten mile radius. Running into traffic causes people to, for a very brief time, become students of automotive existentialism. We see the wall of brake lights and ask ourselves “why?”

I’ll goddamn motherfucking tell you why traffic is fucked up:

1.) Soccer Moms: a soccer mom is a tiny white woman who drives a Ford Expedition despite having only one or two children, and is always on the phone for no goddamn reason. She buys such a large SUV because she knows she’s a shitty driver, but instead of staying off the road or taking the bus, she prefers to cause traffic accidents anyway and insulate herself against physical harm by driving an indestructible vehicle.

soccer_mom1.jpg

Figure 2: Dangerously inconsiderate uterus-monger with her Aryan litter

If you pass by a giant SUV (that isn’t a Cadillac, because that’s us) during rush hour, you’re almost guaranteed to find it being driven by a soccer mom with a phone held against her empty head while putting on eyeshadow, doing her taxes, and reading a copy of ‘Elle’ magazine as she cluelessly runs over puppies, kittens, baby deer, and the scientist that just cured breast cancer.

2.) The Roads Scholar: this is the fucking goddamn asshole who seems to think reading a textbook, novel, or fucking newspaper is a good idea while driving. Everyone reading this has seen the fucking guy with a newspaper COMPLETELY opened to its 30″+ width on the steering wheel WHILE THE CAR IS FUCKING MOVING!!!!!

car_2dwreck.jpg

Figure 3: “Welp, at least I got to read the Style section…”

Do you really need to read the newspaper that bad, you steaming pile of wolverine shit? Is it really so hard for you to be alone with your thoughts for a few minutes instead of having to be constantly entertained by print media? Is this reliance on the ideas of others the reason you’ve hit a career plateau in your late 20s? Do us all a favor and drive your car into the side of a library.

3.) Old People: the elderly usually wait until Sunday to fuck traffic up, but every now and again they’ll come out on a weekday. When they do, it’s never pretty. This tiny old person will be pulled up with his face six inches from the steering wheel looking like he’s trying to spot a gnat on the hood. He REFUSES to drive more than 35 mph and REFUSES to get out of the passing lane.

old_driver.gif

Figure 4: My hero

I can’t be too mad at the old folks, though. There’s something heroic and even patriotic in their defiant refusal to give up their cars in spite of the overwhelming lack of sense in their continued driving. Personally, I can’t wait to be the world’s first blind 115 year old driver.

4.) Young People: with high schoolers being involved in more sports and other after school activities than ever before, more and more of them are winding up on the roads when the rest of the working public is driving home. Young drivers fall into two categories: the extremely overconfident, and the extremely underconfident.

The overconfident drivers are the ones who think driving a car in real life is like driving in a video game. You can (and must) drive as fast as you can under any conditions, and other motorists are little more than poles in their automotive slalom of death. They also try very very hard to look cool while driving. They turn the volume of their shitty Linkin Park CD all the way up, lean back as far as they can in the seat, and drive with one hand. Inevitably, they will turn a blind corner or misjudge braking distance, slamming into the back of someone’s car and causing a four hour fucking traffic jam.

youngdriver.jpg

Figure 5: More dangerous than the Watts Riots

While overconfident drivers are usually boys, the ranks of the underconfident drivers are filled mostly with girls. Underconfident drivers are very much like old people in that they refuse to drive over 35mph, and they’re pulled up so close to the wheel they could (and probably should) steer the car with their tits. Unlike old people, they have absolutely no clue what the fuck they’re doing. You can recognize the underconfident driver by the look of sheer terror on her face, constant and unnecessary checking of blind spots, and complete inability to parallel park.

nervousdriver.jpg

Figure 6: Tragic Comedy

5.) Asian People: my brother claims that the ability to concentrate intensely on a single item like a laser beam that makes asians so good at academics makes them, at the same time, incredibly inept in the multi-tasking environment of driving. I’m inclined to agree with him.

asiandrivingdisaster.jpg

Figure 7: Why bicycles were so popular in Chinese cities

This theory is backed up by The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, in that all the asians who were expert drivers were also unmitigated jackasses. If they were the typical asian overachievers or FOBs with whom we’re so familiar, FF:TD would’ve been a four minute film about a 50 car pileup in an otherwise empty parking lot featuring a bunch of confused and bespectacled asians all pretending not to be able to speak english.

6.) Stalematers: this situation happens on two-lane parkways all the fucking time. Someone who has no business in the left lane will inevitably be in the left lane. Someone goes to pass them in the right lane. Then the fucking asshole in the left lane speeds up enough not to get passed. The two continue adjusting their speed upwards until neither is willing to go any faster and they wind up hogging both lanes, side by side in an automotive stalemate at the same goddamn speed. In this infuriating game of speed limit chicken, everybody loses - especially the hundreds of angry people behind the stalematers who want to pass but physically can’t.

carstogether.jpg

Figure 8: The only time Stalemating is OK

Stalemating is the reason I’ve been lobbying congress for the last ten years to let me attach a battering ram to the front of my car. So far they’ve ignored my requests. I suppose they have more important things to do, like persecuting baseball players for steroid use while the country’s fighting two wars and looking into the mouth of a recession.


Comments : 79 Comments »
Tags : ,
Categories : Travel, Work

« Previous Entries Next Entries »