Fake newspaper USA Today must believe that brilliant, dirty, Russian weirdo Grigori Perelman is full of shit. Why else would they think it newsworthy that Perelman didn’t show up to collect his $1M prize for solving the Poincaré Conjecture?
Readers of Promethean Times know what the “journalists” at USA Today are just finding out: Grigori let the prize committee know what they could do with their $1M ages ago.
Said Grigori at the time, “I have everything I want.”
The women of Zeta Tau Alpha made history recently when they were awarded first-place at Step Off, a prestigious step competition hosted by Sprite. What makes this victory historic is that step dance, a synchronized dance routine typically performed by nine women, has long been exclusively an African-American tradition. Zeta Tau Alpha is a white sorority.
Critics of Zeta Tau Alpha’s victory say that this is just one of many instances in a long history of culture theft by whites. Furthermore, these critics contend that while the art form’s exposure to a wider, multi-racial audience is certainly to be desired, the potential for non-black dancers to win is not. It is an insult, they say, for a white sorority to be awarded first place.
A brief explanation of the difference between white and black sororities. White sororities, which by virtue of being white are more exclusionary, are open to women of all races, and include many African-Americans. Black sororities, in an effort to preserve diversity, are exclusively African-American.
The people who don’t want white girls in step dancing would like you to know that they are merely preserving their proud cultural heritage, and despite so many marked similarities, are not at all like the evil bigots who strove to keep Jackie Robinson out of the Major Leagues.
WWJRD?
There was a great deal of grumbling over Zeta Tau Alpha’s victory, but the judges’ decision signalled that the art form was ready to embrace diversity and celebrate its coming-of-age in the wider culture.
White Sororities Are Exclusionary
Black Sororities Promote Diversity
Despite the furor from groups who thought it wrong that a white sorority won, the judges stuck to their guns. For a week. Then they realized they’d made an unspecified scoring error of some sort and called it a tie.
Critics of merit-based solutions hailed this as “a victory for all people who value equality and fairness above talent and hard work. The squeaky wheel really does get the grease!”
Last night the Boston Celtics and Los Angeles Lakers continued their great rivalry, coming together in a decisive game seven of the NBA finals.
Fans have always responded to the passion engendered by these two teams.
Athletes have often been compared to warriors. Never was it more true than last night. The players were so like the ancient Spartans or Athenians that you could practically see their greek forefathers hovering over their shoulders as the two teams grappled for four sweaty quarters. They grunted and heaved as they wrestled for the sweat-slick ball, teeth bared in the straining, exultant agony of exertion. This is the great beauty of the sport: the breathtaking juxtaposition between the animalistic abandon with which the game is played, and the delicate, almost sensual ball-handling of these gentle giants.
When it was over, both teams had given it all they had, and left quite a bit of themselves on the glistening floor. Ultimately, the Lakers came out on top, roughly coming from behind to stun the Celtics, who, with tears in their eyes, could only take it in the end.
. . . Ms. Price let her husband die. As such, our vulgarity is germane to the discussion.
Even if this unrepentant black widow never sees a courtroom for her deeds, she’s doomed to live out the rest of her days, saddled with the guilt of killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.*
*By ‘goose that lays the golden eggs’ we mean ‘small black actor who, insofar as we are able to determine did not actually lay golden eggs,’ but was a human being with all humanity’s accordant dignity, and deserved neither his sad death nor the snide comments Promethean Times has been making since then, up to and including this sentence.
Directed more by some entropic and unknowable inertia than by free will, Dora felt herself take two uncomprehending steps backward until her backside met the stove, which squealed briefly in protest.
The smoking gun in her right hand was spent and had become heavier somehow, as if it had swapped cold lethality for substance. She let it fall, refusing to acknowledge either it or the spreading pool of blood spotlighting Martin like a mandorla on an Orthodox icon.
Mama’s voice worried inside Dora’s head: Baby, did you mean to do it?
As hot, bitter tears spilled over the back of the hand clutched to her mouth, Dora answered: I don’t know.
Ailing nutjob Gary Brooks Faulkner apparently decided that if his time was short, he’d do his damnedest to drag Osama bin Laden down to hell with him. Supplied only with the essentials–pistol & ammo, dagger, night-vision goggles and hashish–this nutty buddy somehow made his way from Colorado to Pakistan to go mano a mano with the FBI’s most-wanted man.
Reportedly, Faulkner didn’t waste valuable energy and time attempting to determine friend from foe. Anyone foolish enough to approach the Bucket-List Rambo received the same response: wild-eyed death threats.
Sadly, Pakistani forces managed to capture Faulkner after a tense standoff. In doing so, they denied this patriotic and batshit crazy American the honor of laying down his life in a knife fight with a cadre of bin Laden’s elite guards, while their master huddles cowering behind them; or of tumbling off a sheer cliff while locked in a death-embrace with bin Laden himself, perhaps voicing a cool exit line like, Neither of us comes back from this one, Osama; or as is a lot more likely, a lonely death from exposure in the vast and trackless wilderness of Pakistan, Faulkner’s final hours haunted by delirium and a maddening thirst, huddling pathetically in the meager shade provided by a boulder while hurling increasingly weak and nonsensical curses at the punishing sun.
Apparently, studies have shown that obese people have poor sexual health, despite getting less sex than their non-gelatinous counterparts.
Hopefully the news that being a waddling grotesquery is not all sunshine and games will counter the media’s persistent efforts to make obesity seem chic, particularly among young women.
While BP’s ruptured well in the Gulf of Mexico continues to spew crude like Charlie Sheen on a runaway Tilt-O-Whirl, the nefarious petroleum giant’s brain trust has run bone-dry.
This BP Researcher Asks: WWBD?
In the early days of the crisis, BP’s Idea Men knew that to realize workable solutions, they would need to ask new questions. Working at a fever-pitch, sometimes logging 20-hour days, it was less than two months later when BP scientists asked themselves the question which would prove their interrogative Rosetta Stone:
What if the rupture and resulting spill had occurred not in the Gulf of Mexico, but rather in Gotham Harbor?
In the simple elegance of the question, an answer quickly asserted itself: Giant Scissors!
On June 12th, 1970, Dock Ellis of the Pittsburgh Pirates somehow managed to pitch a no-hitter while tripping his balls off on LSD.
As with any such feat, the success is not due to Ellis alone. Without his teammates’ stellar defense, this achievement would have been a longshot at best.
According to Ellis, much of the credit for the victory must be accorded to the baseball, which provided invaluable aid by telling the frying hurler which pitches to throw.
"With This No-Hitter, My Plan Is At Last Coming To Fruition. You Know What Must Happen Next. BURN THEM, DOCK! BURN THEM ALL!"
Promethean Times has long been regarded as the last of the truth-tellers, a lonely voice in the wilderness trumpeting to all who will hear it the nefarious doings of the Cannabis Mafia, as well as its dangerous and irresponsible dream of universal stonerdom.
Shockingly, new data indicate that these media-savvy burnouts have advanced their shadowy agenda further than even the most strident critics had believed possible.
Sleeper operatives within the LA Daily organization have planted a news story designed take the edge off America’s very-justified fears about doobie-digging drivers. This story, which relies upon a supposed “study” indicating that marijuana has a far-less pronounced effect on driving ability than previously believed, may lead America’s children into believing that stoned driving is “groovy.”
AP File Photo: LA County School Bus Drivers
Promethean Times would like to remind you that driving under the influence of the demon weed is not a “gasser,” “hoot” or “trip;” it is illegal.
Promethean Times 