underdogishere

A few months ago, I posted here about my Great Idea for a Vegan slasher movie. Unfortunately, it didn't go anywhere -- Hollywood has no imagination -- but now I have a New and Better Idea: The Next Big Thing. This is going to make me rich.

Actually, let me begin by telling you how it came about: A coworker was telling me that her partner had travelled to Tampa to see a Stars on Ice figure skating show. She went on to say that the weekend before her partner had gone to the local Country bar to watch a bullriding competition. My coworker was merely trying to say that her partner had varied tastes, but I wasn't listening -- my mind was already racing ahead... I'd had the New and Better Idea! Those of you who know me (which is one-third of you) can probably guess what it is. For the other two thirds, here's the next big reality TV show -- bigger than American Idol, bigger than Survivor, bigger even than Dancing with the Stars:

Bullriding on Ice! (tm)

Yes, Bullriding on Ice! (tm) To begin with, the bull will be on skates. That will allow him to build up some serious horizontal velocity as he comes out of the chute, which will add to the excitement of the bucking. It will also add to the thrill, since after the bullrider is bucked off he'll face the danger of not only impalement, but also laceration.

The bullrider will have skates, too. Skates will be way better than spurs for annoying the bull, and then after he's bucked off, the bullrider will have to get up and skate away to safety. And if he manages to get in a Lutz or a Double Axel during his escape, he gets extra points. (Do they get points in bullriding? No matter -- they will in Bullriding on Ice! (tm))

The rodeo clowns will have a big role in Bullriding on Ice! (tm), too. They'll skate at top speed around the perimeter of the ice until they're needed, maybe doing a little ice dancing to keep the crowd entertained during the slow moments. And then once the bullrider is bucked off they'll zoom in, rocketing just inches in front of the nose of the still-moving bull, dazzling the crowd with their synchronized routines.

All happening, of course, to the beat of very loud music. Did I mention very loud?

This is such a great idea. It'll be like NASCAR meets NPR. Stayed tuned, dear readers, for the Next Big Thing:

Bullriding on Ice! (tm)

Labels: Musing

I used to do a lot of my shopping from mail order catalogs, and now I do most of it on-line, so I get a lot of catalogs in the mail. This is the off season, so I only I get two or three every day. In the run-up to Christmas I can get as many as ten a day. Did I say a lot? Most are from companies that I never shopped with -- selling my address around, I guess -- and sometimes I wonder how I made it onto the mailing list of, say, a catalog that specializes in officewear for professional black women. But I did.

Anyway, in the catalogs from one particular company the models look like they are teenagers, or at least were teenagers in the recent past, so I guess the styles are aimed at teenagers, but still, sometimes I just have to shake my head. Take this, which is called an "asymmetrical skirt":



I'm pretty sure Buffy was wearing something just like this at the end of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the movie, not the crappy TV show), so now you, yes you, can look like you've just come from an apocalyptic battle with an army of vampires, without so much as having to wield a broken chair leg.

And here's an asymmetrical skirt that's perfect for the female teenaged prison inmate who wants to look like she's just come from an apocalyptic battle with an army of vampires:



I was never a huge fan of prairie skirts, and I detest the new gauchos, so you can imagine my reaction when I saw this bastard step-style, the (I kid you not) prairie gaucho:



Ouch!

Labels: Stylin'

It's been a week. I've been just about crazy-busy, but I guess I should post something, in case my three readers are still out there. So...

On the way to work one morning last week, I was listening to the radio while two (white) DJ's where expressing great indignation at Damon Wayans's attempt to register the word "nigga" as a trademark. (In case you didn't know, Damon Wayans has spent the last year-and-a-half quietly trying to trademark the word "nigga." He wants to it as a brand name for clothes, music, and other stuff, as well as movies and television shows. It seems that he even wants to open a line of Nigga brick-and-mortar retail stores. The Patent and Trademark Office has been quietly rejecting his applications. Anyway, back to the two (white) DJs:) They both remarked how hard "the late Dr. Martin Luther King and his wife" worked to erase nigger/nigga from the language. They made a big point that the word was derogatory. Honestly, they went on and on. They were really worked up. I was surprised because these two DJ's are normally sort of soft-core shock-jocks, and this little burst of PC was unlike them. Oh... and another thing: They never actually said the words "nigger" or "nigga." They always said "the N word," or spelled it ("It's outrageous that Wayans wants to trademark n-i-g-g-a!").

Hey, if Damon Wayans wants to trademark "nigga," I have only one thing to say:

Go for it!

As my two indignant (white) DJ's pointed out, many people have worked very hard to stamp out "nigger." And you know what? They haven't succeeded. And they won't. They can't. It's not possible. A language isn't subject to editing. However, it is subject to transmutation, and that's why Wayans's idea is so great: There's no better way to remove the stigma from a word than to welcome it into general circulation. Consider the words "shit" and "damn." When I was young, these were seldom heard, and when you heard one of them you knew something very, very bad had happened, or someone was very, very angry. Now they're so common that, not only do they no longer mean anything bad, they can actually mean something good:

I'm having a hot date over for dinner tonight, so I spent $20 on the good shit.

You got me tickets to the ballet? Sheeeeit!

That's your car? Hot damn!

The same thing would happen if we just let Wayans have his trademark:

That's my new TV. Look how sharp the picture is. It's a Nigga!

I asked that hot chick out, and she said yes! I need to look my best. I'll wear my Niggas.

Welcome, everyone, to the Waylon Jennings and Trisha Yearwood show, sponsored by Nigga Productions!

Wayans could singlehandedly do what generations of civil rights leaders could not. All we have to do is grant him a trademark.

Excuse me while I write to my senator....

Labels: Language, Musing

While we're on the subject of the previous post, thanks to LeftCoastBreakdown for this tip:

Impeach The {Moronic Fool} Already

(You'll get the "{Moronic Fool}" part if you read down the blog a bit.)

Labels: Dubya

In Vermont, many of the smaller towns still use a Town Meeting form of government, where all the eligble citizens gather in a hall once a year to debate and vote on the town business. It's democracy by direct involvement. These meetings are usually held around this time of year, and recently four towns passed resolutions calling for the impeachment of President Bush. You can read the story in the Rutland Herald, here:

http://www.RutlandHerald.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2006603080383

The material in the story belongs under copyright to the Rutland Herald, and I respect copyrights (mostly), otherwise I would repeat it in full here. But still, given that Web-based news stories often disappear after a time, I'd like to quote a couple of passages for relative posterity:

Four Vermont communities Tuesday passed town meeting resolutions calling for Bush's impeachment for allegedly misleading the country into war with Iraq, authorizing torture policies and for carrying out a secret program to spy on Americans without court oversight.

Residents of Newfane, the only town where the impeachment question appeared on the warrant, passed the resolution 121-29 by paper ballot.

Other towns passed the resolution under the "other business" portion of the meetings, including Putney and Dummerston in near-unanimous floor votes, and in Marlboro, where it passed 60-10 by paper ballot.

Although the votes weren't even close, there was a small amount of opposition:

Residents opposed to the controversial question tried to indefinitely postpone the vote Tuesday (in Newfane).

Gunther Garbe, who proposed the delay just seconds after the article was read by Moderator Hendrik W. van Loon, said "this meeting is to discuss town business — not national issues."

But residents like Norm Kuebler, who reflected on his own German ancestors' silence during the Nazi regime, disagreed. While Kuebler said he did not want to compare Bush to Adolf Hitler, difficult issues such as war need to be addressed at the local level, he said.

"My ancestors are very ashamed of their silence," he said. "And we have this opportunity today to speak and I suggest we take advantage of it."

Does this make a difference? I dunno, but I'll leave you with this final quote:

Many voters remarked that it was vital for small towns to take the lead.

(Thanks to my bro', Glenn, for the tip about the article. Putney is the next town over from where he lives.)

Labels: Dubya

When it comes to insatiability of appetite and a propensity for stealing food, a sea gull is simply a beagle with wings.

Don't ask me how I know this.

Labels: Dogs, Seen

Muchas gracias to Liz for posting a link to this most excellent children's book that explains, in German, where babies come from. I encourage you to see it for yourself -- even if you don't speak German, the illustrations are priceless. A word of warning, though: This isn't workplace-appropriate, so browse from home, or your laptop at Starbucks, or at least close your office door.

Okay, seen it for yourself? I (naturally) have a few comments. Let's peruse together:

First page:

Here we see the end result of this book's subject: A baby. Is it me, or does this baby look startled and surprised. Given the contents of the pages to follow, it's understandable.

Next page:

Here we see a man and a woman wearing clothes so shockingly tasteless that they cry out, Don't let these people reproduce! Alas, justice is not to be done. Also note her hair in pigtails.

Next page:

Now the people are naked, which is a huge improvement. But note that his... well, his willy isn't aroused. Isn't that strange? I don't know about you, but if I get naked with a woman, well... okay, I'll leave that for you to finish. Also note that the guy has not been circumcised (sorry if this freaks out anyone who's turned off by men's willies, but I'm just reporting). But the thing that bothers me is her hair is still in pigtails. Aren't women supposed to let their hair down to have fun? It makes her look like a teenager. Pedophilia, anyone?

Next page:

The man has finally managed to get it up. I don't know how. Viagra, maybe. I know it's tasteless and rude to call attention to this, but I can't help but comment that he's not very big. Give 'im more Viagra. Also, they appear to be kissing, but they are doing so with their mouths wide open. Not French kissing, but mouths wide open, as though they might be trying to take bites out of each other, like cannibals. Maybe they don't get enough to eat.

Next page:

Now they are having sex. I was disappointed that the book only showed them in the missionary position. Maybe the artist thought the Kama Sutra was a bit much for small children. I disagree. I say that if you're going to introduce impressionable young minds to sex, possibly affecting them for the rest of their lives, you should show them as much variety as possible.

This couple appear to have a platform bed. A platform bed with giant hearts painted on the side. This must be to tell us that they love each other very much. We also know they love each other because as they have sex they are still either kissing or trying to devour each other. And they have a pillow made out of the same material as the woman's dress. Either that, or they rolled up her dress to use as a pillow.

Next page:

In this cutaway view the man is ejecting a tiny, tiny amount of sperm into the woman. Apparently he not only has a small willy, but he has potency issues as well. The thing that really weirds me out about this picture is that it includes their two mats of pubic hair pressed together. Did we really need that detail?

Next page:

Nine months have passed since the previous page, and the people are still naked. Have they not worn clothes for that entire time? Given how ugly their clothes are, perhaps that was for the best. A cutaway shows us the baby fully grown inside the woman, but for some reason it was important to the artist to show the woman's pubic hair superimposed on the cutaway. Pubic hair fetish, anyone?

Next page:

Finally, after nine months, the people are now dressed. In the same shockingly tasteless clothes as before. Somehow, the woman has managed to acquire a maternity dress made from the same material as her pre-pregnancy clothes. Somewhere in Germany there's a bolt of purple-and-blue-striped cloth that needs to be burned on a bonfire.

Next page:

Time to go to the hospital. I assume "Klinik" is German for "hospital." If not, it's German for "place where babies are born." These people are obviously hippies, because they drive a car with big hearts painted on the side. The woman is so monstrously pregnant that she can't fit in the front seat. She has to ride in the back, like cargo.

Next page:

The woman is covered by a sheet, and the doctor looks like he hasn't graduated from high school yet.

Next page:

Something happened to the sheet. I don't know what. The doctor is holding a pick, perhaps as a threat to the woman as to what she can expect if she doesn't spit this baby out. The baby is emerging face first. Not head first, but face first, with eyes wide open and a smile that a politician would envy. But the things that weird me out, for some reason, are her pigtails, visible in the background on either side of her private parts.

Next page:

The baby's arms are out and he's waving, like maybe he's saying, Hey, baseball season is about to start! Go Cubbies! Don't get your hopes up, kiddo.

Next page:

The woman is holding the baby, not up against her, but at arm's length, like, Hey, what's this? You've been pregnant for nine months, lady. Don't act so surprised.

Next page:

The woman loves her shockingly tasteless dress so much that she's had it altered so she can breast feed while wearing it.

I tell you, some people should not be allowed to reproduce.