Monday, June 16, 2008

Happy Birthday, Gunts.


The Olsen twins.

They resemble something you would release from a fishing net. They look like a yet-undiscovered species that is rooting through the mud in some swamp, sucking at tubers in an attempt to gain nutrients.

I have never understood the allure of these two.

What I DO understand about these two malnourished, talentless, skeletal twats is that their affection for wearing the pelts of other animals is unsurpassed in the celebrity world.

So psychotic is their need to drape themselves in fur that was ripped off hapless, trapped animals that I'm sure they would have the very last remaining snow leopard tracked down and murdered if they thought it would make a nice lining for whatever hideous creation they were intending to throw on for the evening.

Meanwhile, as much as I tend to think PeTA's tactics are a little jejune, I DO like it when they go after fur-flaunting celebrities. These assholes deserve what they get. It's times like these I wish those animal rights activists were still running around dumping buckets of paint on people.

The slots, referred to by PeTA as the Trollsen Twins, are getting the what-for they deserve:

"Thin-twins Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen are about to get some publicity that will have them running away faster than if they'd spotted a calorie"
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. Because they're skinny.

Apparently, Twat One and Twat Two are 22 now (as of last Friday, actually) - old enough to grasp the concept that trapping and skinning an animal that is quite probably still alive is just downright gross. However, they seem to attempt to accessorize every outfit with some swatch or another of dead animal flesh, the results of which usually make them look like particularly affluent hobos.

In a flagrantly egregious assault on decency, good taste and fashion sense, and as proof that they have at most one functioning brain cell between them, they have been spotted on more than one occasion wearing mink coats with jeans. Now, to me - a mink coat with jeans is the ultimate insult to the animal. You might as well be wiping your ass with it. Just plain tacky. TACKY. I mean, low rent.

Why am I yodelling about fur at the onset of summer's most brutal months? Well, primarily because of a publicity stunt Peta2, PeTA's youth wing, is pulling at the moment. They're asking concerned animal rights tots, tweens, teens, and twenty-somethings to mail clippings of their cheveux to the emaciated dullards as a "birthday present" along with this simple note:
"Please, use my hair instead of the animals'. Happy Birthday."
They've also got some vicious online content like Full House of Horrors and Dress Up the Trollsens.

Will their plan to get the anorexic dipshits to lay off the fur work? I doubt it. BUT, I hope children clog their management's mail with hair clippings and nasty memos.

Mary-Kate and Ashley - I have news for you. You two, for whatever reason, have a huge following among little girls. Somehow, you've fooled them into thinking that you're cute, innocent, fun-loving girls who have whacky adventures and love baking and cuddling. The rest of the world knows that you're chainsmoking, trampy morons who couldn't handle college at NYU, the United States' dumping ground for rich hipster kids who want to do nothing but pollute Manhattan with their idiotic, unoriginal insights and bad fashion sense.

As role models to little girls, you two have a responsibility to teach them the difference between right and wrong. So here's a primer for you.

Right - don't skin kittens, bunnies, beavers, ponies, newts, bears, cougars, leopards, minks, nutrias, Flipper, cows, dogs, or any other animal of any kind ever for any reason EVER.

Wrong - sashaying around the joint looking like emaciated, coked-out whores with furs of all kinds draped haphazardly about your bodies as if you got dressed in the dark.

You two skanks should have your teeth slapped out.

Thanks to Lil Chrissy for alerting me to this article up in cheunh.

Friday, June 13, 2008

I'll be your candle on the water.


This adorable little angel is a leafy sea dragon. It's native to Australia, y'all, and it's related to the seahorse. And of course it's endangered.

Why is it that we never hear of these things until they're featured in articles talking about how they're "endangered" and "extremely rare" and how important it is to preserve them?

I can't tell you how sick of this I am getting. Add this one to the list of amazing animals that won't be around for much longer.


This, at least, is good news:

ATLANTA—A weedy sea dragon at the Georgia Aquarium has something to celebrate this Father's Day.

One of the rare creatures is pregnant for only the third time ever at a U.S. aquarium, aquarium officials said. But don't look for the expectant mom—dads carry the eggs in this family.

The aquarium's sea dragon has about 70 fertilized eggs—which look like small red grapes—attached to his tail. He is expected to give birth in early to mid-July.

Sea dragons, sea horses and pipefish are the only species in which the male carries the eggs.



Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Welcome to the human race.


Lately I've been trying really hard not to read unsettling things. The state of the world is already crystal clear to me; I don't need daily reminders to sap the little joy I have left.

I tend to fall into a deep depression if I even accidentally happen to glance, oh so fleetingly, as something like the REVOLTINGLY GRAPHIC PeTA ""vegetarian starter kit" two of my coworkers picked up and were fingering through at the door of Vegetarian's Paradise 2.

We had just experienced the wonders of vegan hot & sour soup and many other delectable delights that restaurant features, when Mr. Kim - who had never been to a vegan eatery and was excited to try it - snatched up a copy of PeTA's horrifying scare-tactic propaganda.

Leafing through its many explicit photos of future hot dogs, chickens crammed into filthy cages, cows sliced open, the miracle process that creates ham, and many other atrocities that are too revolting to remember or recount here, I felt the overwhelming need to vomit.

Now, I know that's exactly what the minions at PeTA want - they, like the dipshit anti-abortion "Christian" freaks who waddle around in tacky Wal-Mart polyester holding up enormous photos of "dissected babies," want you to be so horrified by what you see that you are scared into changing your behavior. Well, fuck that.

I don't need Friday the 13th-style garbage like that to make me realize how fucked up the world is. What's scarier than anything PeTA could ever whip up - and believe me, they are probably hard at work right now creating some graphic, obnoxious video or leaflet replete with blood, gore and tortured animals - is your basic, everyday news article about the effects of global warming and our ever-growing human population on the millions of plant and animal species attempting to share this planet with us.

For example, this ongoing blog from the New York Times: Dot Earth. Looking at this blog on a daily basis is like reading one of the preemptive obituaries news sources always have ready for celebrities, only this one's much sadder. I WANT to read Britney Spears' obituary; I do NOT want to read the Yangtze River Dolphin's. You see the distinction?

An excerpt:

How much nature is enough? We may be finding out, species by species, as we whittle away in that slow-drip style. This is just a quick note of farewell to the Caribbean monk seal, not seen since 1952 and given its formal designation as extinct by federal fisheries officials last Friday.
It goes on and on. This guy covers everything you would never want to imagine humanity as a collective being capable of, and yet here it is - real, happening, and for the most part, largely ignored.

Many years ago I was dating someone who freaked out when he saw a spider walking across the floor of my apartment. "Don't kill it," I told him as I stood up to get something to put it in so I could transport it away from his flitty, idiotic fear at something so small and harmless.

"Like this, you mean?" he laughed as he smashed it with his foot.

As I steamed and yelled at him, he exclaimed, "I'm entitled to my own opinion."

But he's not. Not in a situation like that. What that spider had to go through just to get to that stage of its life only to be destroyed in a split second by some stupid, unthinking asshole makes me livid to this day.

I can't stand humanity's smug sense of entitlement when it comes to other animals' existences. And so I try not to remind myself.

Sometimes though, like today, when I'm feeling particularly masochistic, I actually read through the Dot Earth blog or other stories. It's like taking a knife and cramming it directly into my heart. The overwhelming sense of hopelessness I feel when the havoc the human race is wreaking on our planet comes to the fore of my consciousness makes me almost want not to carry on. What's the point? I don't really want to be around as these animals, plants and untainted patches of earth disappear. I don't want to be held responsible for it or feel the despair that will grow as each new species is declared endangered and ultimately extinct.

After reading about the Caribbean Monk Seal's new place of honor among the animal species wiped out by human idiocy and about deforestation's effect on sea turtle populations, I read the comments readers placed below. This one echoes my sentiments almost exactly:
To be alive today and conscious, sensitive and caring about other species is torture. It is pure, unadulterated torture. I’ve always been extremely senstive to my environment, the other organisms on Earth besides people. And even with my own species, I look around and wonder all the time how I could have been born in this day and age, witness to the absolute decimation of such a once beautiful place. And it’s exponential. Even reading the testimonials of the climate scientists who warn if we stopped completely right now, stopped spewing our noxious, toxic gases into the atmosphere and into the ground, the Earth would still warm considerably before it stabilized and began to reverse. For any of us alive today with open hearts, Ouch! Ouch, Ouch, Ouch!

I find thanks to the many contributers here, your articles Andy and my own conscience, I seem to equivocate with everything I do now. I stand staring at the mayonnaise or mustard, wondering if should forfeit them entirely or be forced to buy them in plastic containers. My organic shampoo, my eco friendly cleaners (even Simple Green is in a plastic container), my paper towels, sodas, flax seed oil, they’re all in plastic bags or plastic containers. It is maddening to be alive today and care. Even when I mow my pasture I’m a lunatic, stopping every few feet to poke around so I don’t whack a gopher snake which I’ve done unintentionally many times. There are frogs hopping away, Wooly Bear caterpillars curled up as I approach. It takes me hours to mow. Yes, it might sound as though I’ve lost my mind completely. It’s my heart I can’t lose. To tread this lovely Earth and realize almost everything I do has an adverse consequence to some other innocent species……even my damn English class. wants five copies of our work to pass around. I think, “five copies? Hello? How many trees am I destroying so someone can read my thoughts?”

National Geographic has an incredible and sobering article this month on the sensitive, brilliant, emotion based minds of animals. Yes, all animals; elephants, parrots, monkeys, dolphins, dogs, cows. We are just obnoxious idiots to think we are the only one’s capable of feeling and understanding.

All I can do anymore is walk around with my sorrowful mantra whispering, “I’m sorry” to everything I see.

I get up every morning, do the best I can, forgo that which I do not need (which is a lot more these days) and try damn hard to minimize my footprint with everything I touch. I want to be part of the solution but may in fact only come once I’m dead. I’m guessing to combine the words human and solution, well that in and of itself is probably the greatest oxymoron ever.

Elizabeth Tjader
I'm sorry too. I'm so sorry.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Our Government - doing what it does best. Nothing.


Wow, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I should have seen this coming.

As soon as the United States government has a real opportunity to do something forward thinking, something that would cause a global reaction other than "God, the United States is run by assholes and populated by unquestioning zombies" - something that would tell world governments that we are bypassing Marmoset McNally's idiotic views on global warming and actually working toward a solution - what do we do?

We let a bunch of stupid god damn Republicans walk all over it. First, a shithead congressman, Mitch McConnell - from Kentucky, where they still shoot 'coon and don't find the graffiti "40 yards to the outhouse by Willy Makeit" outdated - forces a staffer to read the Climate Security Act in its entirety - all 493 pages of it - out loud to the entire Senate just to stall proceedings.

That's just the beginning. The end result, of course, is that the act didn't even pass. It didn't even get amended. It just died.

It's not even on the front page of major news sources' websites. Ed McMahon's Beverly Hills home possibly being foreclosed - that's on the front page. The future of our planet - that's relegated to a search in news sites' archives.

I don't even have the energy to be bitchy about this. I'm almost to the point of despondency. We voted for these people, and what the hell are they doing? They're not working for us... they're watching their bank accounts. They're making sure their investments in corporations dependent on fossil fuels aren't going to face "economic uncertainty" due to potential CO2 emissions standards that would have been set.

Now we don't have a Climate Security Act. We don't have the hope of a Climate Security Act - even a watered-down one. But - we do have a bunch of smug asshole Republicans who are very proud of the fact that they've protected their "big business" friends' big businesses.

I have news for all you posturing toads - you are messing with the future of life on earth here, not just your gaywad little special interests. Your inaction is further imperiling our planet. Maybe you shitsmears haven't figured this out yet, so I'll let you in on a little secret:

You can't re-grow planets.

That's right - we've got one and one only. You people keep fucking with it the way you have been, and we won't even have this one - well, we'll have it, but it will be an ugly shell of its former self, hovering dead in space and spackled with mud, debris and a bunch of idiots fighting for scraps of food. Sounds great to me.

Keep it up, fuckstains. I'm not the one who's got to worry about the future - I'm gay. I ain't having no god damn kids. But you - all of you asswipes who are keeping this act from becoming a reality because you want to be able to drive your SUVs down to the range and blow up a few deer before gnawing on some fat god damn steaks you bought with money earned by turning your backs on scientific fact in order to protect lying, thieving, earth-raping assholes who don't give a fuck about you anyway - I assume most of you have children.

Someday, your children are going to have to live through whatever's left here. They're going to be living Soylent Green (well, maybe except the eating people part - watch the film and see the environmental apocalypse and you'll see what I mean).

They'll think of you as they're scraping through manure looking for earthworms and grubs to subsist on. They'll know exactly why they're going through this and they will hate your guts.

Which is pretty much the way I feel about you right now.

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Bite Into Ass


As I was meandering along Brooklyn's Street of Shame - also known as Fulton Mall - this morning on the way to meet a friend for brunch, I saw yet another disgusting example of why everyone in the world is a great big fat ass.

Yes - it is the Indiana Jones Double Whopper - a delectable burger the miracle workers at Burger King have whipped up in honor of Dr. Jones' successful return to the big screen in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

If Dr. Jones had been eating slabs of misery such as this, he would have died of a heart attack years ago attempting to heft his bilious ass orbs out of his La-Z-Boy in search of conch fritters and baby back ribs.

Thankfully, Dr. Jones avoided such grotesque examples of gluttony and survived long enough to be a thorough and complete badass well into his 60s. If only the American public would follow his example.

The Indy Double Whopper features the tag line, "Bite Into Adventure!" but what it should read is "Bite into Ass!" This two-pattied sandwich of doom also features bacon, "blackened cajun mayo" (a condiment excreted directly from Satan's anus, from the sound of it) and pepper jack cheese.

Now, there is no nutritional information available for this "limited offer" sandwich, but a regular Double Whopper with Cheese features the following glowing recommendations:

  • 1010 calories
  • 24 grams of saturated fat
  • 2.5 grams of trans-fat
  • Add to that the necessary "value meal" accessories - french fries and a drink - and you get a whopping 1800 calories. That's without the bacon and the special mayo, mind you. That's ONE MEAL that adds up almost to a full day's recommended caloric intake.

    How many people do you think add a shake to that, or whatever other balls-out concoction of shame Burger King offers on its dessert menu? Plenty.

    Indiana Jones wouldn't touch this fucking meal with a ten-foot pole, and neither should anyone else.

    We've already got enough people shuffling around with their thighs grinding together ready to burst the seams of their too-tight jeans without Burger King adding this sort of bullshit temptation to the unnecessary and revolting foods idiots consume on a daily basis.

    Why don't y'all try eating some kale or bok choy or something for a change? Damn.

    Fuck Burger King.