Tag Archives: United States of America

Jehovah’s Witnesses: You Might Like To Know

02 Saturday Jun 2012

Posted by in Culture, News, Religion

≈ 24 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Originally posted 10.04.11

By Smaktakula

Although They Don’t Celebrate Holidays, Every Day Is A Party For The Witnesses.

Admit it, you don’t know much about the Jehovah’s Witnesses other than that you fear them. For many, the sight of a well-dressed, smiling couple patrolling the neighborhood can instill the same fear that a gang member would. Unlike that gang member, whose interest in your house is only a possibility, the Witnesses are guaranteed to knock on your door, copy of The Watchtower in hand.

Unlike Jews Or Muslims, The Jehovah’s Witnesses Exist For You To Mock.

You may know some of the more peculiar details of the Witnesses’ faith–the failed doomsday predictions, their lack of cool holidays or Witnesses’ refusal to salute the flag. Moreover, they refuse blood transfusions and military service. Most peculiar of all, like Jews and Seventh Day Adventists, Witnesses choose to ruin their Saturday with church, rather than the accepted Western tradition of Church on Sunday.

Pull The Curtains And Turn Off The TV Unless You’ve Got Three Hours To Kill.

But most people don’t know the price the Witnesses have paid over the years for their anti-militaristic views. Their refusal to serve in World War I angered fascistic governments in Germany and the United States, resulting in persecution and imprisonment.  During the Holocaust, Jehovah’s Witnesses paid with their lives, sent to the camps along with Gypsies, Jews, homosexuals, communists and common criminals. But unlike many of the others, whose offense to Nazi Germany was tied to some immutable condition, all the Witnesses had to do to save their own lives was to shut up about the Holocaust. Contrarians to the end, they refused. Their devotion was such that SS captains implored their lethal stooges to be as fanatical as the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

You Had No Fucking Idea, Did You?

Lastly, everyone must agree that given the Witnesses’ literal belief that only 144,000 souls will be admitted to heaven, it’s pretty generous of them to go door to door every week. With such a small number of the elect slated to make it into heaven, a Jehovah’s Witness puts his or her spot in jeopardy with every knock on the door.

The Witnesses Politely Told The Nazis To Enjoy Relations With Themselves.

Tardsie’s True-Ass Tales: Memorial Day Edition

28 Monday May 2012

Posted by in History

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

By Tardsie

And Others Of Us Gave Fuck All.

I have never served in the military. Although not a fan of America’s military adventurism over the past half-century, my failure to enlist has less to do with any ideological convictions than with the unfortunate but inescapable fact that I am a massive pussy. I have tremendous respect for those men and women who did serve. Their courage is both beautiful and unfathomable to me.

***

I went to high school near a large military base, and a lot of the kids I knew were military brats, many of whom ended up serving in the military themselves. For some of them it had been a lifelong ambition, and for others as simply a more affordable means than college to burn four years of their lives while they figured out what they really wanted to do with their lives. Some of them got out when their first hitch was up, others remain officers & gentlemen to this day. Some never made it through basic training.

I knew people who joined the military under unusual circumstances. There was the friend of a friend who realized too late that he had chosen poorly in dropping out of school to join the Marines. He tried like hell to get out, his mom and dad even bringing in a lawyer–but no luck.

VICTORY IS OURS!

A guy I knew joined the army to impress his iceberg of a father. It didn’t work. Another quit school to join the navy and learn valuable skills, where he became a cook.

Yet another friend disappeared one weekend during college, only to reappear a few days later explaining that he’d been in jail on unpaid tickets, during which time the notion had come upon him to join the Marines. He signed up immediately after getting out of the lockup. Despite this unlikely start (which included LSD & ecstasy binges when he came home after boot camp), unlike the schlub from above, this guy wanted to be a Marine. He only served one enlistment, but based on the life he enjoys today (beautiful wife, lovely daughter and some job in software that I don’t really understand but suspect is pretty decent), I’d say it was pretty good for him.

***

Although I never served, it had been something of a tradition in my family. My ancestors served in conflicts large and small.

Following the American Civil War one of my ancestors was hanged in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, for overzealously prosecuting the war as a Union Captain. (To clarify, I mean that my ancestor was executed at the noose. I should note that all males in my family, up into the present, have been mightily hung).

Like A Horse, People!

***

My Great Uncle, the Colonel, was a tough old bastard. He died just a couple of years ago at 89. He served in World War II, Korea and Vietnam. During the Second World War, he led a Guerilla outfit against the Japanese in New Guinea, and according to family legend was the “first white man to cross the New Guinea jungle.” Now, in the interest of keeping these tales true, let me say that I can’t vouch for that claim. For one thing, I’ve seen pictures, and there were plenty of other white dudes with him, all probably just as eager for Caucasian Hall of Fame immortality.

How do you suppose he died? Do you think it was old age? Old age couldn’t kill this man. Two or three years ago, during an intense Washington snowstorm, the Colonel decided that he would DRIVE HIMSELF to his doctor’s appointment for cataracts. Yeah, go ahead and read that sentence again. He hit a tree.

He lived for a month after that.

We Didn’t Think There Was Anything That Could Kill You.

***

My grandfather was old by the time I came along. A phlegmatic, mellow dude more comfortable with the exotic plants in his garden than with his children or grandchildren, my grandfather had an amazing story that he told to very few people. I found out not long before he died, and only when my mother told me. I asked my grandfather, and he told me it was true.

My grandfather joined the US Navy sometime around 1939 or 1940. In the early part of 1941, he was stationed in (I believe) California. His ship was the USS Arizona. My grandfather got his orders to go with the ship to where it would be based with the Pacific Fleet, at the US Naval Station at Pearl Harbor–a pretty plumb assignment.

But one of Grandpa’s buddies wasn’t so lucky. He got orders to set sail on a different ship for Washington State, which is nobody’s idea of a good time. My grandfather was from Oregon, and his friend convinced him to let him bribe the quartermaster $50 to switch their orders, so that Grandpa would go to Bremerton, and his friend to Pearl Harbor. Grandpa agreed.

I absolutely love this story. It’s very likely that had my grandfather gone to Pearl Harbor, I would not be here today. To me it is a wonderful story.

Not so to my grandfather. When he told me this story, he said that he felt like a fraud and a cheat–a walking dead man. He wept bitterly when he told the tale.

One Thing We’ve Learned, Grandpa, Is That You Have To Live With The Choices You Make.

***

However, my Uncle Roy, Grandpa’s younger brother (who also died within the last few years) was at Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941, and received some sort of commendation for, as he puts it, “Fishing people out of the water.”

It turns out that Uncle Roy, unlike so many other unfortunate young Americans that day, was awake when the attack came (and I believe–although I’m unsure and now not likely to ever know–that he was on land). He told me he was eating a sandwich when he heard the explosions which signalled the first salvo in the sneak attack, a military sucker punch so underhanded that it remained unequaled in the annals of perfidy until the events of September 11, 2001.

“What did you do, Uncle Roy?” I asked, when he told me the story the last time I saw him, at a family reunion years ago.

“I finished that sammich,” he said, dead serious, “I didn’t know when I was gonna get to eat again.”

***

More thoughts on gays in the military.

As you may know, several months ago, Promethean Times created its own slogan to replace the cowardly “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” with something that reflects our own views: Won’t Ask, Don’t Care.

Gay people have been silently serving in America’s military since the days of the Revolution (mostly in the Navy, though). Just like their straight comrades, they have fought, bled and died for this nation. It is only fitting then, that we honor their service and dedication to country by allowing them so serve as complete individuals, and something of a mystery perhaps that it took us this long.

The military’s recent acceptance of gay openly gay people is unquestionably a positive step for personal liberty and a move to make America’s military better represent the face of her people. However, it must be noted that should a full draft ever be reinstated, by eliminating homosexuality as a dischargeable offense, these well-intentioned do-gooders have inadvertently eliminated the best chance a young man has for legally dodging the draft. And for that, we say: Nice Going, Homos!

“I Love It When We Hit Port And The Docks Literally Overflow With Running Seamen.”

People Of Size Demand To Be Represented In Diabetes Commercials

27 Sunday May 2012

Posted by in Culture, Entertainment

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

By Smaktakula

Seriously, They’re Upset.

Anywhere you travel across this great land, you’re very nearly guaranteed to see obese people. Whether they’re wolfing down a score of Whoppers at Burger King or zipping through the mall on their scooters, with cell phones to their ears and an extra-large bucket of soda in the drink tray, their gelatinous buttocks spilling over the seat–blubbery humanoids are becoming an everyday facet of American life.

In our society, obesity is ubiquitous and inescapable: in the supermarket and at public events, at the mall or even the gym. However, there is one arena where America’s blubbery class is all but invisible: television. Corpulent faces are rare on television, and this is even truer in regard to commercials.

This Is No More Fanciful Than The Representations Made In Actual Diabetes Commercials.

Some activists want to change this paradigm, and show America a swollen, spotty face like the one it sees in the mirror every morning. Monty Robinson of Let America Respect Diversity (LARD), an advocacy group for people of size, believes the best avenue for this accurate depiction is diabetes commercials.

Currently, most diabetes commercials look like this:

Does the man in this clip look like anyone you know who has diabetes? No, the man is an actor, who doesn’t have diabetes. His middle-age paunch is his only nod toward obesity; he is only pretending to have this largely-preventable, first-world malady.

Advocates Feel That Reality-TV Star, Snooki (Seen Here), Would Make An Excellent Diabetes Spokesperson.

Obesity activists point out that African-American characters are portrayed by African-American actors, and that Asian actors portray Asian characters.  Why then aren’t diabetes sufferers portrayed by gelatinous fatsos? “It’s not fair,” says corpulent actor Randy Bumfield, “How is anyone supposed to believe that I just had my gangrenous leg amputated if I’m handsome, slim and trim?”

In Reality, Diabetes Isn’t So Pretty.

The reality is that the producers of these commercials will never see fit to accurately represent their target audience. Diabetes spots will continue to feature paunchy-but-healthy middle-aged actors, who think nothing of trampling underfoot the surprisingly-sensitive emotions of the doughy monstrosities they purport to represent. This doesn’t, however, mean that Americans of size need go entirely without recognition–not if the average citizen does his or her part.

So the next time you’re in McDonalds for a late-night McFlurry run, and you’re greeted by the barnyard sound of rank humanity inhaling its feed, don’t wrinkle your nose in disgust or take a photo to show your friends on Facebook. Instead, make a conscious choice for change, and approach one of these ‘people.’  Imagine how good he (or she) will feel when you tell him, ‘That should be you in the diabetes commercial!’

These Dedicated Young Actors Are Working Diligently To Perfect Their Diabetes Skills.

Promethea Culpa

17 Thursday May 2012

Posted by in Crime, Culture, History, News

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Originally presented Jan 18, 2011

By Tardsie

Promethean Times regrets that our clumsy handling of a recent event necessitates both a clarification and an apology.  We have entered an age in which our words take on meanings not originally intended, and where the line between free speech and incitement has grown perilously thin.

Sarah To Kate: “RUN, BITCH! RUN!” By Which She Means ‘Run For Elected Office.’ Sarah Thinks Kate Is Just Swell.

Recent violence in the United States compels us to reexamine a December 27th Promethean Times piece, Plan To Strand Palin, Gosselin In Alaskan Wilderness Unsuccessful.  In the aforementioned piece, we depicted a gun-toting Sarah Palin above the caption ‘Many People Hoped That This Image Would Be The Last Thing To Go Through Kate Gosselin’s Mind Before The Bullet.’

We’re confident most readers understood that our intention, however ham-handed in its execution, was to express the hope that an image of her friend Sarah Palin went through Kate Gosselin’s mind rapidly–as in, with the speed of a bullet. We did not mean to imply or depict, as some readers clearly believe, any intended violence from Palin toward the talentless reality star.  This erroneous assumption is bolstered by our choice of image, and in this, we probably chose unwisely.  If we had to do it again, would most likely not choose a picture of Palin with an automatic weapon, and definitely not one in which the former vice-presidential candidate is taking direct aim at the viewer.

We want to be perfectly clear: the error was inadvertent.  Although as a staff we are stunned that anyone would believe Promethean Times capable of such a gross breach of our journalistic responsibilities, we acknowledge that through our own actions, we bear at least some culpability for the confusion.

“I’ve Got A Shotgun Shell Here With Kate’s Name On It. As A Present, Of Course. I Did The Engraving Myself. You Betcha!”

We very  much regret that Promethean Times‘ ambiguous phrasing caused alarm among a portion of our more sensitive readers, and in the future will endeavor whenever possible to eschew confusing, convoluted–and seemingly interminable–sentences which, through their various levels of syntactic abstraction not only serve to baffle a reader, but also sorely test his or her patience with the writer’s self-indulgent, pointless and increasingly wearisome verbal prestidigitation; instead, in such situations where previously we might have employed so confusing and unnecessarily-elaborate a syntax, we henceforth shall strive mightily to use only the most concise, clearly-worded and straightforward sentence structure in both the hope and belief that in doing so, such plain grammar will not only help to mitigate the very real possibility of further confounding the reader and thereby abrogating our journalistic mandate to effectively impart an intended message, but also–and by no means less importantly–to be more thoroughly satisfying for the reader.

For reals.

“KILL SMAKTAKULA! With Kindness. You’ve Heard That Expression, Right?”

This Day In History: April 19, 1775 CE

19 Thursday Apr 2012

Posted by in History

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

On which, with the help of British Redcoats who wish to seize a cache of gunpowder, the nascent nation of America invents the bumper-sticker slogan, “You’ll Take My Gun When You Pry It From My Cold, Dead Hands.”

"This Is Just The Beginning, Brothers! Before Our Great Experiment Has Run Its Course, We Will Have Vanquished An Entire Alphabet Of Foes!"

Just the same, you should probably stop BEFORE you get to “V.” ∞ T.

The Mexican-American Conflict: A Pretty Good War

02 Monday Apr 2012

Posted by in History

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

By Smaktakula

Maybe You're Just Not Looking Hard Enough.

You’ve probably heard more than once that there’s no such thing as a ‘good’ war. The sentiment driving this notion is noble, and easy enough to understand: it’s hard to take any joy from a victory when even one life has been needlessly cut short. Moreover, there is also the sad legacy of war’s victims who survive the conflict only to return to shattered, empty lives.

The "Good War": Grandpa Liked WWII So Much, He's Still There.

World War II is sometimes considered a ‘good war’ in that it very literally halted the extinction of an entire people. This view necessarily tends to discount the ugly reality that the war cost the lives of just as many people and a great deal more, but was more egalitarian in that it distributed the horrors among a variety of nations. Others consider the US’s ill-fated War of 1812 among this select group of noble atrocities, because the dream of liberating Canada from her tyrannical British masters was a righteous and Heaven-sanctioned one, despite the ingratitude and surprising unhelpfulness of the Canadian people.¹

It's Just Like What Happened To Us When We Tried To Help Out In Somalia--You Try To Bring Light To A Wretched And Abject People, Only To Get Kicked In The Teeth For Your Troubles.

But the little known Mexican-American War is something everyone can get behind. Having recently acquired the Independent Republic of Texas, the United States under President James Knox Polk was looking for a little more real estate. Polk had long prized such material assets as the Napa Wine Country, Camp Pendleton Marine Base and California Adventures, so America’s 11th President–and by any estimate its most effective One-Termer–set his sights on wresting the Golden State from Mexico.²

YOINK!!!!

Polk was initially stymied in his efforts by that age-old bugbear of democratic republics, the notion that you can’t just go starting a war for no reason. But when it was determined that Mexico’s General Antonio López de Santa Anna (an early forerunner of future bad-guy, Adolf Hitler) was stockpiling Weapons of Mass Destruction (WMD) in the Sonora Desert, America was left with little choice but to act.

There Came A Point At Which The US Could No Longer Tolerate General Santa Anna's Shenanigans.

Although no WMD were ever found, the story did end happily, with the Mexicans chased all the way to Tijuana by the victorious gringos, and the Stars & Stripes lofted over the golden, rolling hills of California. However, it has so often been said that ‘a lawn does not cut itself,’ and like the storied swallows of Capistrano, in a final righting of history, the descendants of those long-ago Californios have since returned to California, bringing with them a great many friends whose ancestors had previously never been north of Michoacan.

¡Gracias, Amigo! Eso Fue Muy Amable Por Tu!

¹ It can sometimes be so difficult to resist playing historical “What If?”. Can you imagine what a powerhouse US Hockey would be today if the Canadians had only been a little cooler in 1812? ∞ T.
² Although California was far and away the most worthwhile of the Mexican lands prized by the Americans, Manifest Destiny also demanded an expanse of lesser real estate comprising the modern states of Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Utah as well as parts of Texas and Colorado. ∞ T.

Take That Frog Out Of Your Mouth!

28 Wednesday Mar 2012

Posted by in Culture

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

By Smaktakula

Love It Or Leave It! But If You Want To Make It A Little Easier For Everyone, You’ll Love It.

The American Language is an adaptive and remarkable tongue, borrowing unhesitatingly from other languages such as Latin, German and English. But this easy exchange of language is dependent at the very least upon non-hostility between America and the lucky nation whose language is being appropriated. When relations between the US and the donor country are strained, language is often the first victim.

Even Our Grammar Is Remarkably Free!

Anti-German sentiment during the First World War caused significant changes in language. Not only did the British ruling family, then known as the House of Saxe-Coburg, change its name to the more Anglo-acceptable (and decidedly Hallmarky) name of ‘Windsor,’ but also prompted Americans to change the names of foodstuffs such as Frankfurters and sauerkraut. The hot-dogs earned the ridiculous sobriquet ‘Liberty Pups,’ while the inedible rancid condiment was called ‘Liberty Cabbage.’

German Names Are Already Pretty Fucked-Up.

Increasingly, however, Americans have grown too stupid even to recognize words as being of foreign origin, and tend to express their frustrations toward words which so obviously pertain to foreign cultures as to be unmistakable. A relatively recent example of this was during the United States’ Second Groovy Gulf Adventure, when France, heretofore such a reliable and staunch ally, did not count itself among the ‘Coalition of the Willing.” Jacques Chirac, the then-French President, stated unequivocally that French forces would not be used for military adventurism, but would instead stand ready for the inevitable day when they would be once again called upon to surrender their beloved homeland to the invading Germans. Americans responded by changing the name of the one French thing everybody could identify: French Fries. That’s why today, every red-blooded American patriot still calls the greasy little spuds ‘Freedom Fries.’

I Have Not Yet Begun To Fight. No, Really–I’m Not All That Invested.

However, is it enough to simply change the name of a single–if popular–artery-clogging snack? Of course it isn’t–and if you had to think about that answer, ‘Comrade,’ then you’ve clearly demonstrated on which side of the Axis of Evil you rotate. Effective immediately, Promethean Times demands that all good Americans (by which we mean the world’s population) refer to “French” concepts by their newly coined acceptable patriotic substitutes.

Talking American

French Cuffs: Freedom Cuffs

French Kissing: Liberty Licking

French Door: Escape Hatch

French Manicure: The Columbia Clip

In America, Our Patriotism Extends All The Way To The Cellular Level. Even The Dead Ones.

French’s Mustard: La Sauce de Capitulation (colloquially known as ‘surrender sauce’)

French Curve: Triumphant Arch (see what we did there?)

French Braid: Bad Hair Day

French Roast: Shock & Java

French Stewart: Indiana Jones

The French Connection: Syphilis

“Le Sale Français.”

PT Apologizes To Those Groups We Have Yet To Malign

22 Thursday Mar 2012

Posted by in Culture

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

By Smaktakula

If You Live Here, We Have Something To Say That You Won’t Like Very Much.

We’re proud of our track record. In a relatively short time, we’ve managed to say some pretty shitty things about a lot of people. From the Inuits in the north, to the Chinese in the east, the Zimbabweans in the south, the good old US of A in the West, and just about everybody else in between, Promethean Times can be downright promiscuous with its criticism. We’ve made fun of gay people, straight people and the sexually ambivalent; we’ve kicked Christians, Muslims, Jews and Ramtharians. We’ve even made fun of the Amish. Druggies, weirdos and the very stupid–we try to hit ’em all.

But invariably, no matter how diligently mean-spirited, no single institution can possibly hope to insult everyone, despite how much we might wish otherwise. Readers might wonder, for example, just what we find so special about the Swedish people that we have yet to take them to task? Others may ask themselves why we’ve mocked beekeepers but never have seen fit to put stamp collectors in the crosshairs. The same charge could be made about antique car enthusiasts, Greeks or daytime television.

Dear readers–for Promethean Times to maintain its credibility, is it necessary that we point out Swedes are shaved yeti who both consume and smell like rotten fish? Or that stamp collectors tend to produce from their ranks an inordinately high percentage of voyeurs? If pressed, we could tell you that antique car lovers have man-boobs, Greek men love to bugger children and daytime TV is grand theater for the very stupid.

As This Graph Illustrates, Four Out Of Five Greek Men Prefer Hairy, Well-Muscled Flesh To The Supple Springiness Of The Female Breast. In Fairness, Greek Women Sort Of Straddle That Line.

Rest assured that whatever your race, gender, political affiliation, sexual orientation or any of the myriad tiny differences through which humanity seeks to distinguish itself, eventually we will get around to letting you know just what’s wrong with your culture, the way you live your life, and most fundamentally, why you are a bad person. In our own way we’re as multicultural as they come.

But for our friends who may be wondering, “Just what the hell is wrong with me that Promethean Times hasn’t seen fit to let me know about it?”, we’ve got some love to share. The following (by no means complete) list includes a few worthies who have heretofore escaped mention in these pages.

Canadians~Friends, it’s not that we don’t ache to mock these maple-mad mofos; we’ve been wanting to give one to the Canucks since as long as we can remember, but they can be damned hard to get a glove on. Canadians are a lot like that guy you remember from school–the golden boy with perfect attendance, whose homework is always turned on time and never copied, who never fails to treat the teachers and administration with respect and who invariably blows the curve for the rest of you morons. Naturally, you wait for him after school with a sock full of quarters hidden behind your back. But just before you can whack him with your homemade sap, he tells you, “you have really nice hair,” disarming you completely. Canadians are treacherous like that.

That they’re smarter and funnier than us, we can take. We can also accept that they’re cleaner, more polite and have more friends. But what we cannot countenance, and the thing which if known to the American public would quickly lead to tanks swarming the 49th Parallel like flies on fruit, is that they have bigger penii.

You Didn’t Know Captain America Had A Junior Sidekick?

Civil War Buffs~What can we say about grown men who, just for the sheer fun of it, reenact America’s most enduring national tragedy and bloodiest conflict in the nation’s history? Moreover, these dudes slog out these epic battles time and again, despite the outcome not having been in doubt for over 150 years. The American Civil War is in many ways distinguished by the terrible toll it took on the population as a whole, particularly upon an entire generation of men. For this reason it seems more than a little dishonest to history and disrespectful to the memory of the lives torn asunder by this war that men should play-act this ghastly episode. Posterity–and Promethean Times–would no doubt look more favorably upon these men if they used live ammunition.

You Guys Are Losers! No, Seriously–You Lose. We Read Ahead A Little Bit.

Ecuador~Ecuador has fuck all going for it. And, as the world’s premier producers of Panama hats, they’re clearly quite comfortable pulling the rug out from under their Latin American brethren.

Ron Paul~We’re not exactly sure who that is. Was he one of the Beatles or something?

Paraphilic Infantilism~Look, we’re happy for anyone who’s getting laid, and furthermore believe that healthy fantasy can enliven a couple’s sex life. What happens behind bedroom doors is no one else’s business.

Having said that, is there any normal person who believes that a 250-lb dude with his thumb in his mouth and a diaper draped over his ass is in any way healthy or sexually appealing? Whenever possible, we prefer to use non-judgmental language, but seriously, why was the term “sexual deviant” even coined if not to be firmly affixed to these simpering space-wasters?

Mom And Dad Must Just Be So Proud Of You!

Your Mom~Talk about a gal of easy virtue! That chick is easier to turn on than a light switch.

Tell Us, You Minx! Tell Us What Naughtiness The Beaver’s Gotten Up To Now.

Preservin’ That Hillbilly Heritage

14 Wednesday Mar 2012

Posted by in Culture, Stupidity

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

By Smaktakula

Nobody Said Being A Parent Would Be Easy. In Fairness, Though--It Was Clearly Implied. We're Not Blaming Anyone, We're Just Saying That In A Very Real Way It's Your Fault.

We totally get it. You’re damn proud of your white trash pedigree, and want to pass that culture on to the young’uns. Originally confined to the South and most parts of Indiana, the White Trash Diaspora (WTD) has spread throughout the 48 contiguous non-freak states and Canada. And with white trash mommas birthing larger litters every year, redneck cultural historians say it is more important than ever that this vital slice of American whitebread be “preserved for posterior.”

Maybe you think that as a parent, you’ve done everything you can to teach little Cody or Ashley about this proud legacy: exposing them to endless hours of TV, heavy on Two and a Half Men, America’s Funniest Home Videos, rasslin’ and fine reality programming; dressing them appropriately in No Fear and TapouT t-shirts, and taming their fauxhawks and mullets with bulk-bought gel; enjoying regular family dinners at Arby’s, The Hometown Trough, or for really special occasions, Dave & Busters. But ask yourself: in the face of cultural dilution, is this enough?

You've Been Preparing For Your Financial Future--But What About Your Child's Future?

On the surface it may appear so. Sure, your toddler is a toothless, intolerant do-nothing who speaks incomprehensible English and lives off the charity of others–but can you guarantee he’ll stay that way?

Look–there are no guarantees in life. Despite an upbringing of rural squalor in a meth-rich environment lacking even the most basic amenities, there will always be those horror stories about kids who grow up with wild-eyed dreams of a better life. So while there’s no way to completely ensure that your boy will play football and not soccer, you can nevertheless stack the cards in your favor by starting when he’s young. May we suggest as a first step these ultra-boss denim diapers? Not only will they keep baby shit out of the carpet for a few hours, but Junior will look hella tough.

'Cause, Hey--Sometimes You Shit Your Levi's, Too.

Vulgar Non-Sport Gets Collegiate

08 Thursday Mar 2012

Posted by in Culture, Entertainment, Sport, Stupidity

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

By Smaktakula

Yesterday, I Was A Lazy Pile OF Guts, But Today, I Am An ATHLETE.

College athletics hold a special place in American hearts. In many American backwaters too rural to support a professional team, college sports serve to unite entire communities and regions in a shared passion. Moreover, fans of college sports claim a moral advantage over those of professional sports, as college athletes ostensibly play not for money, but for the love of competition. In this way collegiate competition achieves a transcendent purity absent from higher-level sports.

But Earning A Spot On The Varsity Fart-Lighting Squad Is Pretty Cool, Too.

That is about to change. Competitive eating, the vulgar non-sport which allows shambling, ham-fisted grotesqueries to masquerade as athletes, is now popping up on campuses across the nations like dark spots of malignancy in a lung X-Ray. Enter the National Collegiate Competitive Eating Association (NCCEA). This organization is dedicated to metastasizing this vulgar endeavor throughout institutions of higher learning across the nation.

Racy Photos Of Scantily-Clad Athletes Such As David Beckham, Danica Patrick Or This Dude Can Be Very Sexy.

And why not? Is it right that college athletics should somehow remain inviolate while a creeping tide of ‘weakest-linkism’ subsumes the college experience? In an environment where personal responsibility has been eschewed in favor of inclusion and empowerment in lieu of academics, it is only fitting that sport now too should trumpet the triumph of the mediocre.

Today This Little Pussy Would Have Whined His Way Into A Starting Spot.

Sports purists may have difficulty seeing the beauty and grace inherent in an activity where the competitors, or ‘gurgitators,‘ stuff themselves in an obscene culinary orgy only to vomit into their own mouths before swallowing it again, where glory is gained not through hour upon hour of practice, but by virtue of having been made a freakish living stomach by a capricious God. This hidebound and myopic viewpoint is terribly anachronistic, and fails to take into account the realities of our age of mediocrity. Today, when everyone is special regardless of his actual ability, it no longer matters if an individual strives to achieve a worthwhile and long-desired aim, or even, really, that he strives at all.

Oh My God, Can We Tell You? We Are Just So Fucking Proud To Be American Right Now.

The US is considering updating the nickname ‘The Land of Plenty’ to the more-current ‘The Land of Good & Plenties.”  ∞ T.