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Tag Archives: Utah

Emmanuel Lewis: The Antigary

29 Tuesday May 2012

Posted by Smaktakula in Celebrity

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

adorable, African-Americans, Antigary, baby bunnies, Brooke Shields, Clark Atlanta University, death by gun, death by hooker, Diff'rent Strokes, diminutive skonks, Emmanuel is the Antigary, Emmanuel Lewis, evil alternate universe, famous short people, former child stars, Gary Coleman, karate, King of Pop, Lolcats, man-whores, Michael Jackson, shitty TV shows, short people, skonks, small black actor, The Biggest 40 Inches in Hollywood, TV, Utah, Webster, Whatchootalkinboutwillis?

By Smaktakula

Emmanuel’s Ambidexterity Keeps Her Smiling.

Diminutive former child stars Emmanuel Lewis and Gary Coleman are often mentioned in the same sentence. At first glance, the similarities seem obvious: both were stunted African-American Eighties sitcom stars prized for their cuteness. And when their respective TV shows were cancelled, the two men faded from the public consciousness.  But the similarities end there.

Don’t Feel Sorry For Him; Emmanuel Can Take Care Of Himself. He’s Only Here To Hook Up With Brooke.

Coleman’s sad fate has been well documented, not least by this publication. After Diff’rent Strokes faded away, Gary struggled, both financially and personally. Gone from him were any traces of the beguiling cuteness which in 1978 seemed so limitless. He was a surly, unwilling TV presence, seemingly at odds with his Whatchootalkinbout past, but cognizant that nostalgic catchphrases were his sole remaining tether to show business. After a number of pitiable episodes which were captured on video, Coleman found himself in a sexless marriage with a known cooze. His sad, short story came to an end last year.  God’s final joke on Coleman, having previously left him dwarfish, broke and virginal, was to let him die in Utah.

“It’s Not Fair. I’m Taller, Have A Sexier Voice And Made Way More Money. I’ll Bet You Can’t Name Even One ‘Webster’ Catchphrase. Well? You Can’t, Can You?”

Lewis, on the other hand, not only remains alive, but seems to have a life worth living. The adorable little fellow, who at 4’3″ is almost a half-foot shorter than was Coleman, has retained much of his former cuteness, still ranking consistently between ‘Lolcat’ and ‘Baby Bunny‘ on the Universal Cuteness Scale. Nor does it appear that the little skonk has any compunctions about using his former celebrity in the pursuit of nooky. He has no doubt already staved off the virginity which haunted Coleman throughout his loveless life.  Lewis, an aficionado of karate, has taken various steps to improve himself. In 1997 the randy runt earned a degree from Clark Atlanta University.

Beware, Ladies! Lewis Is In Complete Control Of His Hyper-Adorableness. He Uses It Like A Weapon.

And yet, despite the differences between these tiny icons, it is not by accident that the pair is so often associated with one another. The most popular theory to explain this is that Lewis, for whom records date back only as far as 1971, is actually Gary Coleman from a parallel plane. The evidence for this is circumstantial, but compelling. Where Coleman was dissatisfied, sullen and virginal. the former Webster is a charming, happy little man-whore.

She Came With Michael, But Emmanuel Took Her Home.

Whether Emmanuel Lewis is actually Gary Coleman from an evil alternate universe or, however unlikely, the two are actually different individuals with no relationship between them, there can be no mistaking the very different roles they play in society and within their own lives. Lewis is the Antigary–he may yet die young, but you can bet it will be a demise worthy of the man once called “The Biggest 40 Inches In Hollywood,”  possibly involving a hooker and a handgun.

“That’s What I’m Talkin’ ‘Bout, Bitch.”

SEE EMMANUEL FLIRT WITH A CHUNKY REPORTER!

SEE EMMANUEL DANCE IN THE LIVING ROOM WITH THE KING OF POP!

SEE WHY EMMANUEL IS AN INTERNATIONAL SUPERSTAR!

SEE WHAT JEALOUS GARY COLEMAN HAD TO SAY ABOUT EMMANUEL’S ADORING LEGIONS OF FANS!

The Mexican-American Conflict: A Pretty Good War

02 Monday Apr 2012

Posted by Smaktakula in History

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Arizona, California, Canada, Colorado, further instances of Canadian perfidy, Great Britain, James Knox Polk, Let us help!, manifest destiny, Mexico, muchas gracias, Nevada, one-termer by choice, one-termers, outright lies, Saddam Hussein, Saddam totally did it, Santa Anna, Somalia, Texas, there's a NEW Mexico?, treachery, United Kingdom, United States of America, Utah

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.

The Candybomber: Weapons Of Mass Delight

01 Thursday Mar 2012

Posted by Smaktakula in Culture

≈ 31 Comments

Tags

Allies, Axis, Berlin, Berlin Airlift, bravery, Candybomber, comical despots, David Hasselhoff, do-gooders, East Berlin, Gail Halvorsen, Germany, Japan, Josef Stalin, Mormons, ne'er-do-wells, Onkel Wackelflügel, Operation Little Vittles, ridiculous German words, ugly Americans, Uncle Wiggly-Wings, unfortunate names, United States of America, US Air Force, USSR, Utah, West Berlin, WWII

By Smaktakula

Conventional Wisdom Tells Us That It’s Wrong In Every Instance To Bomb Children. Conventional Wisdom Isn’t Always Correct.

Typically the characters to be found skulking through the pages of Promethean Times are a dark and sorry lot of maladjusted degenerates, ne’er-do-wells and comical third-world despots. And yet, history sometimes offers those examples of human endeavor which are not only significant and worthwhile, but also–rarest of all–interesting. We present to you, the Candybomber. If sweetheartery were an award (or even a real word), the Candybomber would be a perennial winner.

Get Yourself Some Jobs, You Master-Race Malingerers!

Although many younger readers many not be aware, Americans have not always been despised around the globe as arrogant behemoths trampling the rest of the world beneath their overpriced Nikes. There was a time, only a few short generations ago, when America was revered as a bastion of hope, and a force for good in a bleak and increasingly repressive world. As the occupying forces in Germany and Japan following their defeat at the end of WWII, a generation of earnest and well-meaning young men served to bolster this impression. The former enemies were disarmed by the Americans’ kindness, generosity and magnanimity, and in this the Allies achieved a victory far greater than anything they were able to accomplish with military means. That Japan and Germany are today stable, democratic–and for more than a half-century, peaceful–republics, is in some ways a credit to these exemplary young men.

Dude, You Know They’re Gonna Expect Us To Act Like This From Now On.

But Gail Halvorsen, the Candybomber, stands head and shoulders above them all. Despite the cruel handicap of being a dude with a chick’s name, in 1948 the young pilot exploded into the hearts and minds of young Germans, who, though now well into middle-age, still revere the Candybomber to this day.

The Candybomber Is A Lot Like David Hasselhoff In That The Germans Love Him. The Difference Is That The Candybomber Did Something To Earn Their Affection.

In 1948, Soviet Premier Josef Stalin sealed off West Berlin (as the nice part of Berlin was then known), hoping to starve out the fledgling democratic republic. The Allies, under the leadership of American President Harry S Truman, began an heroic, round-the-clock operation to ferry supplies to the beleaguered krauts. This operation, known as the Berlin Airlift, proved an historic success, forcing Stalin to ‘blink’ in May of 1949, lifting the embargo.

We’re Not Sure How To Write ‘IN YOUR FACE!’ In The Cyrillic Alphabet, So The Sentiment Will Have To Suffice.

Halvorsen, however, wanted to do more for the war-wearied children he saw lining the fences around the airbase. The nice Mormon boy from Utah hit upon an idea that was an instant winner: he attached small parachutes to bags of candy he had purchased himself, and his plane approached Berlin, would toss them from  his plane to the grateful children below. To differentiate his plane from the dozens arriving every hour, he would dip his wings before releasing his payload, earning him the typically ridiculous German nickname Onkel Wackelflügel (Uncle Wiggly-Wings).

You’ll Want To Step Back A Bit, Kids. That’s Not Candy.

Rumor has it that upon hearing of Halvorsen’s actions, his Air Force superiors ordered him to stop. However, someone up the food chain quickly comprehended the PR goldmine which had fallen into Allied hands thanks to Halvorsen’s do-gooderism. The Allies ran with it, and ‘Operation Little Vittles’ was born, magnifying Halvorsen’s individual act of kindness on a grand scale. It remains one of the most unheralded–and successful–American PR campaigns in history.

For Real, Folks–We’re Not All Bad.

Cougars (Not The Animals) Added To Protected List

23 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by Smaktakula in Culture, News, Stupidity

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Corner Canyon High School, cougars, Draper, Fighting Poets, Fighting Taints, horses, hypersensitivity, Kumonaywannalayus, mascots, Political Correctness, Redskins, Sarah Jessica Parker, Sea-Monkeys, teabaggers, Utah, Washington State University, Whittier College

By Smaktakula

Can We All Agree That Some Mascots Are Totally Fucking Gay?

No one will seriously argue that Utah is a fun place to be for any extended period–it’s hard to find a drink when you want one, there’s no access to medical marijuana,  and worst of all, everybody smiles all the time.  Moreover, the majority of the state is a blighted, lifeless desert, and the only body of water worth a damn is so choked with salt that only Sea-Monkeys thrive in the briny morass.  But despite its many, many faults, Utah is rightly regarded as a sensitive place, a reputation reinforced by a recent high school mascot naming fracas.

What About A Mascot Everyone Can Get Behind?

The students at Corner Canyon High School in Draper, Utah were given the honor of determining their school mascot through a student-wide vote.  Knowing the disgusting nature of children, the school board was prepared for some unusual–perhaps even filthy–mascot suggestions: the Fighting Taints, the Teabaggers or the Kumonaywannalayus.

WSU: We Were Sexist Before It Was Cool To Be Sexist.

However, the students’ choice, the Cougars, caught even the most jaded school administrator off guard.  Although the majority of Corner Canyon students and their parents were unaware of it, and despite the nickname’s ubiquity among school mascots,  ‘cougar’ is a highly offensive term to some people.  Cougars, primarily known as large, North American felines, are increasingly coming to represent middle-aged women who are attracted to younger men, rendering the term decidedly inappropriate for use as a school mascot.  The school board wisely overturned the students’ decision, selecting instead a war-horse, a mascot which could prove hurtful to no one.

"That's Off-EHHHHHHHHHHHN-Sive!"

Black Widow Living In Well-Deserved Squalor

03 Thursday Mar 2011

Posted by Smaktakula in Celebrity, News

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Black Widow, cooze, Emmanuel Lewis, Gary Coleman, Gary Coleman's widow, gold digger, living in squalor, Lynndie England, meal ticket, places that suck, Sao Paulo, schadenfreude, Shannon Price, small black actor, tabloids, The Globe, treachery, Utah, Yoko Ono

By Smaktakula

Don't Waste Your Energy Feeling Sorry For Shannon. Seriously--The Chick's A Cooze.

Fans of Schadenfreude were thrilled by the news that Shannon Price, best known for her half-marriage with half-man Gary Coleman, is living like a filthy animal.  In Utah!  It seems that the unrepentant black widow still resides in the home she mooched from her tiny meal ticket and in which she let him die, only now the home is occupied by actual black widows–also Price’s dad, her brother, several hounds and about 3,600 cubic feet of refuse.

"For Reals--The Thing Hangs All The Way To My Knees. Still, She Won't Touch Me."

For some, it may be instinctive to pity Ms. Price for maintaining her home like a São Paulo shanty, just as they might a hamster long untended by its keeper and forced to eat its own droppings to gain a few more precious hours of life.  This charity is undeserved; anyone feeling sorry for the strawberry strumpet either ignores or has forgotten that she wasted precious minutes getting her shit together while her twitching ex-husband lay dying on the concrete floor of the laundry room.  In a final indignity, she posed for pictures with Coleman on his deathbed before selling the images to the insipid British tabloid, The Globe.

We Are Mystified As To Why Gary's Parents Did Not Invite This Cooze To The Actor's Funeral.

Adding to the enormity of her coozehood is Price’s ridiculous claim that it would somehow upset her deceased ex-husband if he knew she was living this way. Coleman, known for his misanthropic love of trains and little else, would most likely be pained only to learn that the talentless Yoko was still living.

Gary's Unquiet Spirit Was Profoundly Moved To Hear Of Shannon's Plight.

Although she is content for the present to live like a rodent in a urine-soaked flyfarm, Price’s future remains a mystery.  The only thing anyone knows for sure is that Emmanuel Lewis isn’t returning her calls.

Shannon Chooses As Her Role Models Take-Charge Gals Who Like To Have A Good Time And Aren't Afraid To Make A Mistake.

Trucker Bombs: The Highway’s Hidden Threat

07 Friday Jan 2011

Posted by Smaktakula in Culture

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Alabama, Aurora Peterbiltalis, bathtub crank, black coffee, drugs, golden grenades of ammoniac horror, highways, Honeybucket, IEDs, Improvised Explosive Devices, interstates, long-haul trucking, methamphetamine, Over The Top, PISS, piss boys, Sylvester Stallone, teamsters, the reek of the homeless, the Yellow Kid, theocratic cultural backwaters, trucker bombs, truckers, truckstop whores, United States of America, urination, urine, Utah, West Virginia

By Smaktakula

If You Think You’ll Only Encounter IEDs In Theocratic Cultural Backwaters, Think Again: You’ll Find Them In Places As Close To Home As Alabama, West Virginia or Utah.

At first glance, there is much to envy in the life of the long-haul trucker.  While his contemporaries toil away their lives in antiseptic cubes which vary only in size and color, the trucker remains free, a servant of no man, his domain the byways and backroads, his destination the horizon, with the call of the road his only companion and the eternal asphalt his uneasy ally.  Then there are the perks–scalding black coffee, bathtub crank and toothless truckstop whores.  To those who don’t know any better, it might seem an idyllic life.

Have You Ever Stopped To Consider How Much Of Your Life Is Wasted Standing In Front Of These Things?

But for those perspicacious enough to see past the glitz and the glory, a different world reveals itself.  In fact, long-haul trucking makes for a hard and lonely life, one made all the more arduous by hidden inconveniences which go unnoticed by most of workaday America.

“I’m Doin’ #1 Right Now!”

Trucker bombs are the result of one of these unseen inconveniences.  Very much the IEDs of America’s roadways, these golden grenades of ammoniac horror wait silently among the roadside detritus for the hapless charity organization or prison work crew misfortunate enough to stumble upon it.  Because of the time constraints placed upon them, many truckers eschew the everyday activities which would otherwise slow them down, such as the bathroom break.

Some Truckers Have Revived The Old Tradition Of ‘Piss Boys.’

Teamsters, who have previously taken the art of beating the system to new and dizzying heights, have devised a means by which drivers can cheat biology’s heretofore unshakable summons.  The teamsters’ workaround was not only so simple and elegant as to almost defy belief, but also so efficient that it is a wonder it has yet to come into greater use among non-commercial drivers.

The Problem Isn’t New. This Pamphlet From 1923 Tells The Horrifying Story Of A Young Boy Enfeebled For Life By A Trucker Bomb.

The system works like this: when a driver needs to relieve himself, rather than stop to find facilities, he urinates directly into an empty and–most critically–resealable container.  Plastic milk jugs are the preferred receptacle, but other varieties of plastic containers as well as some glass jars work well for urine storage.  The result is a trucker bomb.

The Aurora Peterbiltalis: This Beautiful Phenomenon Should Be On Everyone’s Honeybucket List.

As the second half of the name might imply to the careful listener, trucker bombs save precious time by being easily disposable.  When the containment unit is three-quarters full of human fluids (truckers say that to fill the container beyond 85% is to invite disaster), it can be discarded easily and quickly by hurling it from the window of a speeding truck.  The resultant explosion is a phenomenon described as “a golden spectacle” by those fortunate enough to have witnessed it.

Is This What You Want For Your Kid? To Stink Like A Homeless Person?

 

A Foul, Yet Affordable Rolling Bedlam

11 Wednesday Aug 2010

Posted by Smaktakula in Crime, Culture, Holiday, People, Places, Social Networking, World Affairs

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

air travel, airplane, Americans, Amtrak, bloated dying beast, bus crashes, bus travel, buses, California, chatty gay men, China, commuters, death by bus, decapitation, deranged seatmate, East Coast, embankments, English teachers, Fresno, Greyhound, Greyhound v. Embankment, Jordan Knight, K-Fed, Kevin Federline, Namibia, New Kids Forever! Still Hangin' Tough Baby!, NKOTB, only losers take the bus, Orient Express, PopoZau!, prison-on-wheels, rail travel, rolling bedlam, trains, two great tastes that taste great together, unfortunate ways to die, Utah, Victor Conte

By Smaktakula

The airplane has emerged as the prefered means of conveyance for most Americans.  Commuters routinely jet between neighboring cities which once they would have reached by rail or road.  Trains are still used by East Coast commuters, retired English teachers and quirky, garrulous middle-aged gay men; they have long since ceased to be a viable travel option for the rest of America.  The airlines are fast, but expensive.  Amtrak, a bloated, dying beast supported by the American taxpayer, is interminably slow as well as being expensive.  For those wretched souls for whom neither conveyance is an option, only the bus remains.

"Your Chocolate Got In My Peanut Butter!" Buses And Embankments Are Two Great Tastes That Taste Great Together.

Americans seem to understand instinctively that bus travel is travel of the last resort.  A July 23rd tragedy in Fresno, California validated those fears when a Greyhound bus collided with an overturned SUV, then clipped another vehicle before all three plummeted over a 15-foot embankment, killing six people.  More recently, three people were killed in a Utah bus crash.  Add to those figures the six Namibians and thirteen Chinese killed in bus accidents in the last few days.  Amid the carnage, a grisly message begins to coalesce: travel by bus, die horribly.

It has been said that there is no good way to die.  However, some deaths are so uncomfortable and degrading as to measure to a standard all their own.  By any reckoning, death by bus is among the worst.

Urban commuters familiar with the city bus often fail to appreciate the dismal squalor of its far-traveling cousin.  They correctly point out that like long-distance buses, city buses are also filthy, slow and buzz with incipient craziness.  But when compared to the Yemeni prison-on-wheels that is the Greyhound bus, the Muni transforms into a first-class berth on the Orient Express.  City dwellers may find it unsettling that the ratty, sour-smelling man in the stained overcoat is peeing into the center aisle, but should take some comfort that they face little danger of being decapitated by a deranged seatmate.

Buses Are Often Crowded, And Finding A Seat To Yourself Can Be Difficult. Looking And Smelling Like This Gentleman Will Give You A Leg Up On Your Competition.

It is difficult to imagine a more disagreeable group of people with whom to be squashed into a collective jelly than these mouth-breathers:  The slicked-back shifty dude with a cobweb tattooed in the corner of his eye socket; the skeevy sailor on leave and on the make, and the fifteen-year old runaway who, in other circumstances might give it up for him; incomprehensible migrants and their improperly-stowed livestock; the recently paroled ex-convict with his bottomless retinue of off-key Al Green numbers; and the smelly, twitchy guy for whom Jesus is always very near.  A further horror is the revelation that one of these bipedal humanoids is the bus driver.

There is a final indignity that in many ways surpasses the thousand tiny cuts suffered by these doomed commuters.  It is disheartening enough to accept that people are born and must live out their aching lives in the reeking cow-town that gave the world Victor “Balco” Conte, NKOTB’s Jordan Knight and hip-hop impressario, K-Fed; that people must also end their days there may be too much for the soul to bear.  No one should have to die in Fresno.

Fresno: Hot, Dirty And Full Of Suck.

They Get Facebook In Fresno. Tell ‘Em About It

Great Moments In American Diplomacy: D Day

07 Monday Jun 2010

Posted by Smaktakula in Culture, Europe, History, International Relations, Justice, Military, Mythology, Politics, Relationships

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

6 June 1944, Allies, Axis, Battle of Normandy, Canada, D Day, evil shenanigans, France, Frogs, Germany, Gold, Great Moments In American Diplomacy, Jerry, Juno, Krauts, Normandy Invasion, Normandy Landing, Omaha, Operation Neptune, Operation Overlord, Sword, The Hun, United Kingdom, United States of America, Utah

June 6, 1944: On Which The Hun Is Made To Understand That His Evil Shenanigans Will No Longer Be Tolerated.

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