Monday, March 31, 2008

Sandy and Squeaky Would Be Proud

The San Francisco Art Institute, the intellectual elite who believe one can interpret videos of animals being hammered to death as "art," has shut down the installation 'Don't Trust Me' permanently.

I personally think this installation never should have been opened to begin with because it is an egregious assault on the meaning of the word 'art' and an ugly visual. By its very exhibition it excuses to some degree the needless slaughter of animals (regardless of whatever the artist's "purpose" may have been). I must say, though, that as an animal lover and rights activist, I am disgusted yet again by "animal rights activists'" behavior. From a press release issued by SFAI:

Soon after it opened, the Abdessemed exhibition became the subject of an orchestrated campaign by a number of animal-rights groups, including Animal Liberation Front (ALF), In Defense of Animals (IDA), and People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA). One result of this campaign was a parallel onslaught of explicit death threats and threats of sexual violence against SFAI staff members and their families. The swift escalation from controversy to credible threats has regrettably forced SFAI to make a decision unprecedented in its 137-year history.
It is very hard to work toward a goal of freeing animals from suffering when there are gaggles of well-intentioned, though clearly inane, fucktards out there creating the image of animal rights activists as violent shitheads who allow their emotions to eclipse their sense of reason when it comes to their cause of choice.

I'm sorry, dipshits - sending death threats to the curator of a museum is not the way to affect positive change. What you simpletons are doing is reinforcing the stereotype that animal rights activists - much like anti-abortion activists - flail about like morons, so smug and sure that they and only they are correct in their stance that they are willing to destroy property and human lives in order to make sure that others "see their point of view."

Well guess what. A threat does nothing to make the person toward whom it is aimed stop to ponder the plight of the animals. What it does is cause that person to think that you are a raging lunatic who should most likely be in prison.

Shrieking hysterically at people isn't going to make them stop and say, "Hmm, you know what? It really IS a terrible thing that I'm wearing this fur coat - that animal suffered needlessly. I think I'll give this coat to a homeless shelter where at least I know the animal's life won't have been taken for vanity."

And it's certainly not going to make an art institute that closed its installation out of fear for the general public and its students think any differently about the situation at hand. Read the press release and you will see very clearly that the SFAI thinks you are a pack of assholes.

Yes, I protested the exhibit - as did a lot of people - but I sent them a letter stressing my distaste in their choices, telling them they were perpetuating violence. I did not continue the violence by telling them I would blow them up. I'm sure most people who complained were similarly prudent in their wording.

Sandra Good, a former Manson acolyte, founded the International People's Court of Retribution in 1973 with Lynette 'Squeaky' Fromme, sending death threat letters to executives of major corporations she thought were polluting the planet. Sandra ended up spending ten years in prison for espousing what were pretty forward-thinking beliefs. If she hadn't been a hysterical moron about the entire affair, if she had provided facts about the impending environmental nightmare (which, it turns out, she was absolutely correct about) in a calm and non-confrontational way, perhaps she could have gotten at least a few people to listen. Instead, she was seen as a dangerous psychopath and thrown in the big house.

A voice for change, especially one as alien to most people as animal rights, should not instill fear. People have a hard enough time accepting animals' rights to be independent from man's greed without having a tribe of dreadlocked, filthy shitheads foaming at the mouth making themselves look like jackasses.

Use your brains next time. You closed down the exhibit - good for you - but you taught the public absolutely nothing except that you are on the dumbass fringe and to be avoided at all costs.

(Yes, my previous post on this subject contained hints that violence was in order - but I was utilizing hyperbole and would never, EVER send a threat to anyone because it's just plain stupid. So don't harass me about that post, you hear me?)

Friday, March 28, 2008

Look at that punim

It's Friday, y'all. And do you know what that means? Yes, it's the end of a long, arduous, hideous week of toil, misery and bullshit. But that's not the important thing.

Today marks the first day of Canada's annual seal hunt. That means that hordes of idiotic mongrels and shitkickers are at this very moment descending upon helpless seal cubs and clubbing them to death so that some fat cunt can wear their fur and feel special.

This year's hunt is different, however, for a few reasons. First, Canada has defied international cries to cease this barbaric, antiquated, horrifying, immoral, grotesque, bloody annual ritual by actually INCREASING the number of seals that subhuman cumflakes can smash over the head. 275,000 - that's right, I said 275,000 - of the sweet-faced little angels are at risk of having their lives snatched away from them for the sake of greed and vanity. Many have already died as I'm typing this, I'm sure.

Second, Canada has made a limp attempt at placating animal rights groups and others by making seal hunts more "humane." What's humane to the cave-dwelling troglodytes running Canada these days? Seal "hunters" have to slit seals' arteries, ensuring they are dead, before they can skin them. Seems that, before 2008, it was fine and dandy for these knuckle-dragging anus scabs to tear the skin right off those little darlings while they were still alive.

Shocking? Well, it shouldn't be - that's how lots of furriers get the skins off their animals. They don't give a fuck if those animals are still breathing - all they care about is getting that fur away from the rightful owners so cunty hags can go to Dennis 'Bloated Rimjob' Basso and the like, coming out having spent thousands of dollars and looking like utter and complete soulless idiots.

Now, I'm sorry, Canada, but I have to argue with you here. Slitting an animal's arteries to make sure the fucking thing is dead is not "more humane." It's horrifying and cruel. Killing a baby seal, sometimes as young as three months old, is killing a baby seal - whether you slit its throat before you rip its skin from its body or not. You Canadians need to drag your stupid fucking asses out of the dark ages and realize that THE ENTIRE WORLD thinks your seal hunt is outrageously disgusting. Why, the European Union is probably going to ban import of your seal furs and products, just like the United States did years ago.

What boggles my mind most of all is how someone can look down at a beautiful baby seal, peer into those eyes and see that face, and then destroy it. Monstrosities, that's what these people are - and they're out there right this second, combing the snowbanks for little puffy babies to turn into accessories.

Want to help keep those club-happy shitheads away from seals forever? Here's a good place to start: Stop Canada's Cruel Seal Hunt.

And while we're on the topic of seals...

Ever heard of a ribbon seal? No? Well, if you want to know more about them, learn it now - they're joining polar bears and penguins in the ever-growing list of arctic and antarctic animals whose fates are dangling by a thread due to our inability to act in the face of global warming.

As Chief Cumsock of the EPA Stephen Johnson announced yesterday, The Environmental Protection Agency - acting as it always does, in the best interest of absolutely no one but rich, selfish Republicans - stated that he will "not be rushed" to place limits on C02 emissions, even though the Supreme Court ordered the EPA to manage the greenhouse gas as part of the Clean Air Act. Thanks a lot, asshole. While you're sitting behind your desk eating hoagies and jerking off, the world's falling apart.

Meanwhile, scientists are studying the ribbon seal's plight to determine whether or not it should be added to ever-growing list of endangered species.

Since that Warmongering Marmoset and his drooling, sycophantic troupe of circus clowns have worked their hardest to make it next to impossible to place an animal on the endangered species list, expect this animal to be around as those ice caps are. According to scientists, that's not long.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

"An artist is somebody who produces things that people don't need to have." - Andy Warhol

My take on modern art is pretty simple - most of it is shit.

If you put a paintbrush in Stevie Wonder's hand and led him over to a canvas, he could create something comparable to most of the insipid paint smears and splashes littering galleries across the world these days. Give a monkey some wire and styrofoam balls, and it would construct something that, if "masterminded" by the right artist, could very well be a centerpiece in the new New Museum.

Take, for example, the piece entitled 'Blue Green Red' in the Metropolitan Museum of Art's permanent collection here in New York City. Make no mistake - this artist took sixteen seconds to come up with that design. It represented nothing when he came up with it. It looks like something you'd find in the bathroom section at Target.

But I can guarantee you that multitudes of pseudo-intellectual aesthetes stand back from it with squinting eyes, pondering for several minutes before blathering to their companions about how it "works subtly to break societal norms" or "denies God's existence through simplicity and contrast of color."

Throw words together in a pompous and meaningless way, and you too can be an art critic. Take, for example, this arrogant concoction:

At once intimate and spectacular, Abdessemed’s work aims to convert the banal into the dramatic. Transforming everyday materials and images into unexpected and sometimes shocking expressions, his inventive gestures, as if by alchemy, work to undo dominant modes of perception and entrenched sociocultural norms—they work, in short, to generate new relevance for radical ideas and actions. Actively defying social, cultural, moral, and religious taboos, Abdessemed contrives to subvert common sense and knowledge, received wisdom, and established biopolitical systems.
Yes. Some asshole actually got paid to write that, and he/she probably believes that it means something.

The artist to which that creep was referring was Adel Abdessemed, whose current "piece" is installed at the San Francisco Art Institute.

Let's see what our polyp-brained art critic has to say about "Don't Trust Me."
Looped cuts of only a few seconds, the videos offer up gestures and facts, but resist the imposition of narrative constructions or automatic interpretations (whether of the empirically unambiguous or the theoretically savvy kind). The tacit claims for “autonomy” made by such visual language—staccato forms, lights, movements, and immediate experiences—imbue the work with an instantaneous efficiency that circumvents categorization, making typical moral and cultural constraints seem beside the point. Don’t Trust Me portrays six animals—a sheep, a horse, an ox, a pig, a goat, and a doe—being struck and killed by a hammer. Each killing occurs so quickly that it’s difficult to determine definitively what has happened. Do these incidents represent slaughter or sacrifice? What are their social, cultural, moral, and political implications? Or are such questions now verging on irrelevance, as if something else altogether were taking place (or about to), something wholly other, unforeseen, unexpected?
What a crock of fucking shit. Oh, and you read that right. This "art piece" is six videos of six separate animals being hammered to death.

Now, think about the "artistic process" as it takes place these days. This fuckface first had to come up with the idea to hammer in the heads of these various animals. Then, he had to go around pandering to "patrons of the arts" (bored rich people), downing wine and cheese while bloviating about his "belief in revolution" and how it manifests itself through art. Then, he actually had to slaughter these animals on video for no other reason but to put forward his egocentric and stupid view of society, which he could just as easily have done through any other medium of bland, emotionless "modern art." THEN, he had to peddle this bullshit around to the various guilds and museums and galleries of the world. FINALLY, a committee of many people actually valued this piece's intellectual merits enough to make it the main installation in their gallery.

That means there are that many people who are actually able to, beyond all comprehension, detach themselves from the reality that this sick fuck videotaped himself hitting animals on the head with a sledgehammer until they were dead. There were that many stupid, asinine motherfuckers who could actually be conned into thinking that this was art.

If I were to videotape myself shitting out ingested condoms filled with pork medallions, stating that it was my "overriding sense of commitment to extrapolated yet indigenous forms of coalescing varieties of metriculated detachment and gripping modalities expressing themselves through the mediums of biological evacuation and technological permanence," would I get an installation? Would the patrons be so blown away by my creativity and intellectual prowess that they'd offer me a grant?

The GOOD news about this whole fiasco is that enough people who were revolted by the idiotic choices the San Francisco Art Institute made flooded its email server with demands that the exhibit be shut down. The Institute has "temporarily closed" the installation and is going to hold a "public forum" to discuss its merits. Discussion won't bring back that pony, pig, lamb, goat, ox, and deer.

What's to discuss, I'd like to know. You want to discuss something - discuss exactly how you're going to torture that stupid fucking "artist" to the point that he can even attempt to grasp the senseless pain and suffering he inflicted on those animals in order to "convey his vision." I can think of a few, and they would hurt.

Take photographs of tacks spelling the word 'pain' in a watermelon rind. Draw a baby being thrown over a railing. Solder strips of metal together haphazardly like a redneck workin' on hiz truk. Anything. But why the fuck would you actually kill a horse? The video loop is seconds long. SECONDS.

Call it what you want to, but it sure as fuck isn't art.

And for this a horse, and five other animals, died.

Come Closer and See - See Into the Trees

Douchealong Cassidy and his Gang of Earth-Raping Simians are at it again, y'all. They won't rest until they've made sure every last square inch of our country is logged, pumped dry, razed, or turned into a mega-greenhouse gas-producing, life-destroying ethanol farm, because, let's face it - they're all assholes.

Now, this little trinket of news might have made it into your regular sources of information if, at the same time, Britney Spears hadn't managed to drag herself out of her whirlwind of droolingly idiotic whoredom to make a 15-second cameo on a dreary situation comedy. But, as we've all come to expect (and apparently revel in), the media expended all of its resources over the past few days to cover Britney's "comeback," in which she did absolutely nothing but look like the vacuous, blankly-staring lipwart that she is.

Douchealong and Co. must treasure Britney - she makes it all that much easier for them to work their black magic undetected.

Britney Goes Out For Sushi, Britney Sneezes, Britney Brushes Teeth, Britney Has Movement Shaped Like South Dakota - if that stunningly moronic tramp does something, we're forced to read about it - a fact that infuriates me to no bounds, particularly because it seems that people actually care. People would rather concern themselves with the daily foibles of a washed-up psycho than real, catastrophic events that are taking place right under their noses. Probably because if they DID pay attention, they would actually have to do something.

Meanwhile, as the American public snacks on McRibs, shops at Wal-Mart for useless crap made by slave laborers in China, argues over American Idol's latest round of talentless shitheads, and wallows in Britney's continued twatty travails, George W. Bush is stealing our future. Each and every day, it seems, he finds some new effrontery to logic that will ultimately come to pass simply because we've lost our capacity to care. Alaska's yet-untapped glacial seas, once-Federally protected wolves, the Endangered Species Act (if you don't know about THIS travesty, read about it RIGHT NOW) - he's hell-bent on taking them away from us. Add to that already revolting list the Sequoias. The world's oldest trees.

What does he want to do with them? Log them, of course! Why preserve them when the IRS needs to mail millions of useless letters? They have to get that paper from somewhere!

GWB tried once before, and his attempt to rid the planet of these dang annoying trees was ruled illegal, but that hasn't stopped the backward-thinking, self-serving skidmark from moving forward with his plan to destroy our environment.

Because in case you haven't noticed - George W. Bush doesn't give a fuck what you, I, or anyone else think.

Sign this petition.

Monday, March 10, 2008

I can dream about you if I can't hold you tonight.

Let me tell you a tale of ice cream.

Here I am in Los Angeles on a vacation - or, rather, on a tour of all the restaurants that made me drool onto my protective bib while I lived here - and I've had two disparate encounters with everyone's favorite dessert food (and if it ISN'T your favorite dessert - well, then you're a fascist or something).

My first course of action upon getting to Los Angeles was to trundle over to the Glendale Galleria with The Ladies and Tom in order to do some power shopping. As Miss Crystal and Rachel were trying on various leotards and undergarments at Forever 21, Tom and I wandered up to the third floor food court so Tom could secure some comestibles from a place whose name I won't type here.

However, as we were sitting there and Tom was chomping down on the tendons and lipids of a former feathered friend, I looked behind him and reeled in horror at something nine thousand times worse than the charred flesh in a bun that was being consumed before me - a Cap'n Crunch milkshake.

First of all, Cap'n Crunch is THE most unpleasant breakfast cereal ever invented. It tastes like balls, it's got the texture of sandpaper, and it scrapes the living HELL out of the roof of your mouth.

"What, does it taste like blood?" Tom said as we both commented on the horrifying prospect of sucking that concoction down. Balls. Pure and simple. Balls.

And guess how many calories this blended misery contains? Take a guess. That's right - 740 calories. Carls Jr. lists the ingredients as "hand-scooped ice cream" (How else is it going to be scooped, shitheads?), milk, Cap'n Crunch cereal (!), and "whipped topping." Do we need to create a PowerPoint presentation to send to Carls Jr. to tell them just how many things are wrong with this milkshake?

  • Hand-scooped - that phrasing will impress people who are too stupid to tie their shoes, but no one else. HAND-SCOOPED? Big deal. If it were called "lemur-scooped" or "quadriplegic-scooped," you'd impress me.

  • Cap'n Crunch cereal mixed with ice cream. Ass vomit.

  • What the FUCK is "whipped topping"? Is it dairy? Is it Crisco? WHAT IS IT? Things with evasively generic names like "whipped topping" generally cause cancer.

  • Now, to quote my host, Miss Crystal - "Sugar is bullshit."

    After that horror, I forced everyone to go to the Vegan Barn up the street from my old house in Los Angeles. We love the Vegan Barn - also known as Greenleaves Vegan on Hillhurst. I had some wheat gluten and some more wheat gluten and then I topped that off with some motherfucking wheat gluten. Mmm-MMMM!

    Days passed and I hadn't found an opportunity to entertain to the REAL reason I had come out here, and so today I just said, "You know what? FUCK THIS." And I went to Cru, a raw food restaurant on Sunset in Silverlake.

    The first time I went to this restaurant, I ordered a "raw ice cream banana split." I wasn't expecting much; most raw foods taste nothing like their namesake items - they taste more like sprouts boiled in a dirty sock. When the banana split got to the table, I was amazed. It looked exactly like a regular banana split. It looked amazing. And then I took a bite.

    I sobbed uncontrollably over that dish of ice cream while I was eating it because I knew that eventually it was going to be gone. Quite simply, the most deee-licious thing I think I have EVER tasted since becoming a hippie pervert. (The other items on their menu were incredible as well, and if you're ever in Los Angeles I demand that you go to this restaurant. The ravioli will render you speechless.)

    I got there today as soon as it opened and demanded a banana split posthaste! The perky, adorable waitress trickled off to the kitchen, and I started making small talk with the couple next to me, who, it turns out, are traveling the country writing a book reviewing every single raw food restaurant in existence.

    I recommended the banana split. I said to them, I said, "This motherfucker will make you want to fuck, that's how good it is." They smiled and told me about various raw restaurants I should try in Orange County, and told me that Pure Food and Wine in New York would make me weepy too.

    I ordered two 1/2 pints of raw ice cream to bring home so my hosts could experience that shit themselves. (I'm hoping they don't care for it so I can eat it all.)

    So I got finally to experience good ice cream - to realize a recurring dream of the past eight months - after being assaulted by yet another putrescent example of why fast food chains are highly responsible for all of the children with chafing thighs and Michelin Man chins, and all I can tell you is this:

    Sugar is bullshit.

    Thursday, March 6, 2008

    Godzilla Versus the Smog Monster

    Big Industry has proven over and over again that it really doesn't give a fuck about the planet, people, clean water, keeping things lush and purty, the bunnies, or survival.

    What it cares about is money. Money, money, money. And being able to make it without having to compromise anything ever.

    So it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone at all that lobbyists for manufacturers, automakers, electric utilities, grocers and cement makers were being utter and complete bastards in Washington, D.C. recently, screaming at the Environmental Protection Agency (which in itself is already a joke) to keep ozone emission standards as is.

    (Ozone emissions, by the way, are what cause our dear friend Mr. Smog to come into being.)

    Once again I have to say I am horrified by the lengths to which jackass, money-hungry humans will go to keep from making any positive change. We get one chance at this, assholes. You need to stop being short-sighted dumps and spend some money to clean this shit up. You're going to have to sooner or later, and you know you are, so just get the shit over with already.

    Read this bullshit:

    WASHINGTON - Big industries are waging an intense lobbying effort to block new, tougher limits on air pollution that is blamed for thousands of heart attacks, deaths and cases of asthma, bronchitis and other breathing problems.

    The Environmental Protection Agency is to decide within weeks whether to reduce the allowable amount of ozone — commonly referred to as smog — in the air.

    A tougher standard would require hundreds of counties across the country to find new ways to reduce smog-causing emissions of nitrogen oxides and chemical compounds from tailpipes and smokestacks.
    Groups representing manufacturers, automakers, electric utilities, grocers and cement makers met with White House officials recently in a last-ditch effort to keep the health standard unchanged. They argued that tightening it would be costly and harm the economy in areas that will have to find additional air pollution controls.

    Edison Electric Institute officials made their case directly to the White House Office of Management and Budget, which has to sign off on whatever the EPA decides.

    "Our position is that the existing standard adopted in 1997 should remain in place," said Daniel Riedinger, a spokesman for the group, which represents investor-owned power companies.
    And health experts on the other side of the argument said this:
    ...tens of millions of people, particularly the elderly and small children, are still being harmed by poor air quality.

    The EPA said last summer that the current health standard — no more than 80 parts of ozone for every billion parts of air — does not provide needed protection against asthma, heart attacks and respiratory problems.
    Think about THAT the next time you pay your Texaco bill.

    Industry in America - always with your best interest at heart, whether it be outsourcing jobs to foreign lands or dumping filth into the air that will corrode your internal organs into a pulpy mass of black jelly.

    You can read the whole article up in cheunh: Asshole Big Industry Doesn't Give a Fuck About Your Health or the State of the World Because They Are Dicks.