The chap with wings there. Five rounds rapid.
As I sit here trying to live up to my own asinine writing challenge, I figured I’d take a stab at writing a quick review of 2010 since, honestly, 2010 has been a pretty fucked up year.
Like every year since the premiere of Galactica 1980, I’m glad to see it end.
Continue reading ‘Nacho’s 2010 in Review’
Hunter Thompson’s famous quote that it never got weird enough for him is more true than ever today. We live in boring times. Even when the towers fell, and terrorists struck fear into the hearts of the free world, and we rolled into our Forever War, we were so saturated by the 24 hour screaming news channels that nothing really sunk in. If it did sink in, it soon faded. Jon Stewart’s quote is more apt today than Thompson, when the comedian shouted to his crowd of rally-goers that “If you amplify everything, you hear nothing.”
Continue reading ‘Boredom’
It’s Election Day kids! I did my usual – vote straight Democrat or, if no party affiliation, then vote for the person with an Irish last name. Sure signs that I was born in the wrong era.
Continue reading ‘The Patterson Protest and other Midterm Musings’
It’s time for my bi-annual article about how much I hate Chris Van Hollen.
I almost let it slide this year because, at some point around 2008, I gave up. I stopped following politics, I stopped watching the news… I just can’t face the world anymore. And, let me tell you, I feel like a free man. I don’t know what the Tea Party is about, I had no idea who Glenn Beck was until his rally threatened to interrupt my evening commute, and I have no idea how Obama’s doing. Though I do know that he’s become a lost cause. “Nobama” to some and “Slobama” even to those who still hold onto a feeble thread of faith.
But, of course, I was wary of him from the get-go. As with all my causes (Van Hollen killing us all, Obama burning up on reentry, and the closure of 8407), I have prepared articles saying “I told you, so, assholes.” But, in the meantime, there’s nothing for me to do but rant.
So, anyway. Van Hollen.
Continue reading ‘Dead Zone’
I’m a stick shift kid. I’m all about manual. I only drive an automatic now because I received an offer that I couldn’t refuse.
I had this little Acura Integra that I bought in 99 and, by 2005, I had put a couple hundred thousand miles on it and it caught on fire because I loved the fuck out of driving back then. There’s something about manual that’s… I don’t know. Like sex without a condom.
Automatic is very much like sex with a condom. You feel like you can just curl up in the backseat and the car will continue on without problem. There’s also this sense of not being in control. Like there’s a big hamster in a wheel under the hood and it knows what to do but you don’t. The bitch is all moaning and squirming and you’re like, hmmm, if I keep thinking about Jenna Haze getting assfucked, maybe I’ll stay hard enough for her to finish whatever she’s doing and be able to get back to Stargate.
But manual? Oh, yes. Strip off the condom and drive in there. Feel every inch of that quivering love pudding! Fill me up, Mr. Sasha!
I had my first atomic war paranoia dream in 20 years last night. It startled me awake in a cold sweat, but then felt sweetly nostalgic.
Continue reading ‘Atomic Dreams’
There’s been a lot of talk lately about the death of things, what ideas and conditions, corporations and institutions have lost all hope of surviving, have somehow been so weakened by greedy attrition or cumulative neglect that they cannot be lifted up by even those that truly wish and will them to continue. Old people are always talking about these things, about what ain’t there no more, but they speak of things being corrupted, abandoned, or traded. Bitterness stimulated by a lessening of purchasing power or energy. That’s never been enough, though, to bring us all down. What’s compounded their negativity in the great congress of What’s Going On is that we have hit upon one of those historical cycles where the young are offering their own analysis of a world that, if all are to believed, is drowning in its own offal. They don’t need any long-range view to confirm their wisdom or even a small quorum of facts before they agree with each other. They just need to be loud. Continue reading ‘Don’t Get Your Panties in a Knot’
Nixon was easy. We could go anywhere, really, but James had been talking about the 600 at Watergate South, which wasn’t really the sort of place where we belonged…but they had a full bar. We somehow managed to get in and get a drink, but it was clear that our time was limited, so it was just quick shots of bourbon for the three of us, giggling at the black tie and gown folks, talking in funny voices to the waiter and manager as we were herded back outside, and then onto the street with a shot of Nixon warming our bellies.
Continue reading ’44, part eight (conclusion)’
Back to DC. It was bourbon at the Hotel Washington for Eisenhower. I don’t know the connection, but I’m sure it seemed logical at the time. I also couldn’t tell you where we ended up for Truman, but a deep slice on my arm was bleeding steadily. I had several napkins stuck to it, fouled with blood and dirt.
Continue reading ’44, part seven’
The Finger
I have finally completed my 20 year study on why women think it’s acceptable to stick their fingers up your ass. The results are below.
Continue reading ‘The Finger’