Los Angeles, May 19, 2009
By Danny McBride
Dick Cheney stopped by the house the other day on the way to one of his TV talking head appearances. Turns out he was in the neighborhood going door to door to defend his policies on torture. I was very surprised when I answered the knock at the door and there was Dick telling me he didn’t torture. So after listening to him for a half an hour I can tell you that that really was torture.
“Dick you’re through”, I said. “Climb on that old Cayuse of yours, pack up that bird-hunting, attorney blasting shotgun you own, and hippity – hop your way back to Ole Wyoming wherever you’re from- -Cheyenne?(One thinks of Clint Walker as Cheyenne Bodie). The Man From Laramie? (That’s Jimmy Stewart). Whatever. You’re not them- -more like Dr Strangelove or Marlon Brando as Lux Luthor. Just go. You’ve spent more time hanging around after you’re done than a bad house guest who won’t leave. Your expiration date was January 20th. And what is it now? Good-bye, already”.
Yeah, okay you didn’t torture. Methinks thou doth protest too much, or whatever the correct quote is You’re like the little kid who keeps coming into the kitchen to tell Mom “I didn’t eat the cookies: It must have been the Cookie Monster”.
Waterboarding. Sounds like skateboarding or snowboarding. X-Games stuff. Except it’s not. It’s simulated drowning; If you’ve ever caught a mouthful of water while swimming or snorkeling or, heck, just in the shower, you know the panic that goes with it. And here you are held down by people who are not especially being nice to you and you may think that it’s the end.
But how can this make any sense? Tell me what I want to know or I’ll drown you? And of course then I’ll’never know what you know that you might be able to tell me. So if I’m already not going to tell you and I know the fable about the 72 virgins, why would I tell you? It’s as stupid as playing Enter Sandman to try to torture people. I like Enter Sandman and it would be an eye opener for someone who has never heard good rock music. They’re more likely to want the CD for their iPods than to crack under pressure.
But Dick kept droning on. Talk about torture. “We haven’t had any attacks on our soil in 7 ½ years”. Yeah, but what about that first six or eight months when your boy didn’t bother to read his Presidential Daily Briefings, especially that August 6th, 2001, one that said Osama was going to attack inside the U.S? It would have been good to know that in advance. Do you realize more civilians died on your watch here in America than ever before?
But Dick didn’t seem to care. All he wanted to do was to clear his name. His old ship
was sinking and he wanted to try to change the subject. John Ashcroft, Alberto Gonzales, Michael Mukasey, Michael Chertoff, Douglas Feith, David Addington. These guys might end up being disbarred at the least, or, heck, waterboarded themselves just to show how innocent the whole thing was. But not Dick. He was on a mission to tell people how innocent he was and the rest are on their own. Even if he has to go door to door to tell people.
So the guy who spent the better part of eight years in an undisclosed location and had his official residence, The Naval Observatory, removed from GOOGLE Earth, is now so prevalent that soon he may become a game show host, he’s on TV that often.
All I can say, Dick, is that not only are you Doctor Evil personified, you’re an obnoxious bore.
As he turned to go, I looked down the street to see that someone else was ringing doorbells.
Lord, deliver me, I thought.
It’s Nancy Pelosi.
-30-
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Prop Me Up Properly
Los Angeles, May 29, 2009
By Danny McBride
Marriage is no longer happy and gay in California. Well, maybe it’s still happy for some but that’s about it. In a great service to the rest of the state, those who would be wed only to consummate their love for one another and not be able to breed, may as well move to Maine, a far hipper state. At least there you can adopt. Here, we’re adopting medieval methods of torture. You think of California as that state that leads the nation in social progress. Think again. We also lead the nation in mega-churches like Rick Warren’s or Robert Shuller’s or The Mormons or dozens of others. And if two men marry it might bring them all crumbling to the ground. It’s see-yin. (Make the word sin two syllables.)
The California Supreme Court upheld the Proposition 8 initiative this week by a 6-1 margin. That’s sad. So out of touch with the population at large. According to a Pew Research Poll reported in The Washington Post this week, about 8 in 10 Americans personally know or work with a gay person. Hello Dick Cheney, do you know anyone? Only 48 per cent, meanwhile, know a Mormon.
Also from The Post, a 2008 poll by Gary C. Lawrence, author of "How Americans View Mormonism: Seven Steps to Improve Our Image," found that for every American who expresses a strong liking for Mormons, four express a strong dislike. Among the traits widely ascribed to Mormons in the poll were "narrow-minded" and "controlling."
Controlling alright. To the point where they want to enter the private lives of citizens they have no other interest in. And same sex relationships are already part of the culture. Like crab grass- -you can’t outlaw them. It’s as silly as that other thing Mormons do- -baptize dead people, or consecrate them, or confirm them, or whatever, to the point where a good Baptist like Elvis is claimed as a Mormon after death so they can advertise all the names of people who were or are Mormons that they can use in their proselytizing. Just nuts.
And speaking of churches in general…if you want to go to a Catholic church anytime to pray or whatever you can just go, it’s probably open, or there are lots of times when it is open to the public. Same with other Christian churches. But you can’t just go to a Mormon church unless you are in the funny underwear crowd already. This is not welcoming, like Jesus. Of course Jesus was a first century Rabbi out to reform and simplify the basic Jewish laws. He talked directly to God. Then there was Mohammed, who spoke directly to Allah, and who took years to write down his version of the laws of God. Then Joe Smith spoke to a salamander or a lizard or something, and thought the Native American languages were Biblical tower of Babel stuff. We know now, of course, that these attempts at speaking in tongues were just “Joe Smith Gibberish”. But like the 20th Century’s L. Ron Hubbard, the snake oil salesman behind Scientology, Joe was a good salesman. I mean what guy could turn down polygamy? So they got pushed further and further west in the mid-1800s- -all the way to Utah, with good ole Brigham Young having as many 50 wives. So why can’t a guy have one, even if it is another guy?
In 1896 Utah became a state. One of the conditions was that polygamy be outlawed. If you travel to small towns in Utah today, and visit, say, a Target store or something similar (I think I may actually have been in a K-Mart), you will see families shopping that consist of a young man and two or three young women, and a passel of children. They are very low key.and don’t draw attention but to those who are outsiders, they stick out like sore thumbs. There are, by most estimates, 100,000 of these families in rural Utah still, even though the official policy is to denounce polygamy. Every once in a while you will see a 60 Minutes or a Dateline show about these back country families. I say good luck to them. It doesn’t really affect my life. It isn’t going to ruin my marriage, unless, of course, I try to convince my wife that polygamy is the way to go. So what’s the big whoop if a couple of guys or gals decide to hook up? And if they want to codify their relationships with marriage so they can be audited together, why not? They should be able to get married so they can be just as miserable as the rest of us. (Sorry dear, just kidding.)
It took $40 million dollars to pass Prop 8 at the polls last November, more money than anything except the presidential race. About half came from Mormons, although cleverly diverted away from the Mormon Church actually donating the money. It took a while to trace it all, with campaign contribution disclosures, but it worked- -this time.
The issue will probably re-surface in the next election, or for certain, the one after that. The next time the issue will be harder fought. I think this past time people just figured “Oh it’s California, of course it won’t pass” and calling it “Prop Hate”, not realizing until too late the strength of the opposition. Next time the pro same-sex marriage activists will work way harder against the Mormon machine. Why on earth do they care? After all, Jesus ran around with a bunch of men. If one in ten in the population is gay, what does that say for the 12 Disciples plus Jesus? Hey! Maybe He was gay. The Bible doesn’t say he wasn’t. Try and prove it.
Of course, all of this reminds me of the old joke: The Pope hears from God. God says I have some good news and I have some bad news. The good news- - God wants all the leaders of the major religions to be gathered together so He can speak to them at once. Call the Imams, The Ayatollahs, Billy Graham, The Dalai Lama, The leading Rabbis—everybody. And the Pope says “Great! That is good news. What’s the bad news?”
And God says “I’m going to meet you all in Salt Lake City”.
-30
By Danny McBride
Marriage is no longer happy and gay in California. Well, maybe it’s still happy for some but that’s about it. In a great service to the rest of the state, those who would be wed only to consummate their love for one another and not be able to breed, may as well move to Maine, a far hipper state. At least there you can adopt. Here, we’re adopting medieval methods of torture. You think of California as that state that leads the nation in social progress. Think again. We also lead the nation in mega-churches like Rick Warren’s or Robert Shuller’s or The Mormons or dozens of others. And if two men marry it might bring them all crumbling to the ground. It’s see-yin. (Make the word sin two syllables.)
The California Supreme Court upheld the Proposition 8 initiative this week by a 6-1 margin. That’s sad. So out of touch with the population at large. According to a Pew Research Poll reported in The Washington Post this week, about 8 in 10 Americans personally know or work with a gay person. Hello Dick Cheney, do you know anyone? Only 48 per cent, meanwhile, know a Mormon.
Also from The Post, a 2008 poll by Gary C. Lawrence, author of "How Americans View Mormonism: Seven Steps to Improve Our Image," found that for every American who expresses a strong liking for Mormons, four express a strong dislike. Among the traits widely ascribed to Mormons in the poll were "narrow-minded" and "controlling."
Controlling alright. To the point where they want to enter the private lives of citizens they have no other interest in. And same sex relationships are already part of the culture. Like crab grass- -you can’t outlaw them. It’s as silly as that other thing Mormons do- -baptize dead people, or consecrate them, or confirm them, or whatever, to the point where a good Baptist like Elvis is claimed as a Mormon after death so they can advertise all the names of people who were or are Mormons that they can use in their proselytizing. Just nuts.
And speaking of churches in general…if you want to go to a Catholic church anytime to pray or whatever you can just go, it’s probably open, or there are lots of times when it is open to the public. Same with other Christian churches. But you can’t just go to a Mormon church unless you are in the funny underwear crowd already. This is not welcoming, like Jesus. Of course Jesus was a first century Rabbi out to reform and simplify the basic Jewish laws. He talked directly to God. Then there was Mohammed, who spoke directly to Allah, and who took years to write down his version of the laws of God. Then Joe Smith spoke to a salamander or a lizard or something, and thought the Native American languages were Biblical tower of Babel stuff. We know now, of course, that these attempts at speaking in tongues were just “Joe Smith Gibberish”. But like the 20th Century’s L. Ron Hubbard, the snake oil salesman behind Scientology, Joe was a good salesman. I mean what guy could turn down polygamy? So they got pushed further and further west in the mid-1800s- -all the way to Utah, with good ole Brigham Young having as many 50 wives. So why can’t a guy have one, even if it is another guy?
In 1896 Utah became a state. One of the conditions was that polygamy be outlawed. If you travel to small towns in Utah today, and visit, say, a Target store or something similar (I think I may actually have been in a K-Mart), you will see families shopping that consist of a young man and two or three young women, and a passel of children. They are very low key.and don’t draw attention but to those who are outsiders, they stick out like sore thumbs. There are, by most estimates, 100,000 of these families in rural Utah still, even though the official policy is to denounce polygamy. Every once in a while you will see a 60 Minutes or a Dateline show about these back country families. I say good luck to them. It doesn’t really affect my life. It isn’t going to ruin my marriage, unless, of course, I try to convince my wife that polygamy is the way to go. So what’s the big whoop if a couple of guys or gals decide to hook up? And if they want to codify their relationships with marriage so they can be audited together, why not? They should be able to get married so they can be just as miserable as the rest of us. (Sorry dear, just kidding.)
It took $40 million dollars to pass Prop 8 at the polls last November, more money than anything except the presidential race. About half came from Mormons, although cleverly diverted away from the Mormon Church actually donating the money. It took a while to trace it all, with campaign contribution disclosures, but it worked- -this time.
The issue will probably re-surface in the next election, or for certain, the one after that. The next time the issue will be harder fought. I think this past time people just figured “Oh it’s California, of course it won’t pass” and calling it “Prop Hate”, not realizing until too late the strength of the opposition. Next time the pro same-sex marriage activists will work way harder against the Mormon machine. Why on earth do they care? After all, Jesus ran around with a bunch of men. If one in ten in the population is gay, what does that say for the 12 Disciples plus Jesus? Hey! Maybe He was gay. The Bible doesn’t say he wasn’t. Try and prove it.
Of course, all of this reminds me of the old joke: The Pope hears from God. God says I have some good news and I have some bad news. The good news- - God wants all the leaders of the major religions to be gathered together so He can speak to them at once. Call the Imams, The Ayatollahs, Billy Graham, The Dalai Lama, The leading Rabbis—everybody. And the Pope says “Great! That is good news. What’s the bad news?”
And God says “I’m going to meet you all in Salt Lake City”.
-30
Potty Party
By Danny McBride
Los Angeles, March 7, 2009
Like everyone who has ever spawned, sooner or later the progeny will evolve and mature and have progeny of their own. Your grandchildren. Then you will have no excuse to avoid that “special party” at Chuck E Cheese’s. Flashing lights - - loud music- -and some guy in a rat suit. The very best in rodent entertainment. Fortunately they serve beer. Beer? At a kids’ arcade? Hmmm…What focus group thought this up?
Most ice cream, pizza parlors and burger joints have kid’s party packages complete with clowns or huggie bears. We have one near us with a giant robin and another with a huge octopus. As Gramps you get to see them all. You’re retired, or so the people who control your career think, and so have no good reason why you can’t go to little Holy Terror of Satan’s birthday party, or graduation from pre-school party, or, as we- - (Grandma and I) just did, a “Potty Party” celebrating the fact that your little darling one has finally learned not to pee his pants. I ask you- -did they ever have such a party for you when you finally learned to go “diaper free”? I didn’t think so. Me either.
So just as one learns to control one’s bladder and the timing of relieving one’s self, they bring you to a place that serves beer. Am I the only one that sees the irony in this? Beer. Now it’s Grampa who has trouble controlling his bladder and is challenged with the one beverage that contributes to the timing of his bio-rhythms. It’s just plain evil.
Of course a certain amount of alcohol is necessary to persevere in an environment of screaming sugared-up micro-boppers and to say “Sure, why not?” to one more $35 plain cheese pizza which is about the same quality as frozen pizza- -unthawed. Beer. Soon it will be Grampa’s turn to return to the diaper. Shall we also have a party then? Will they serve beer? Probably not. Probably prune juice.
But the very idea of sedating the adults while over-amping the children works so well as family entertainment that regardless of the economic times, these places are booming.
“Grampa, can I have another ten bucks for tokens?” Why not? They have to be introduced to slot machines and gambling sooner or later and what better time to do it than surrounded by friends and family in the cozy setting of a cacophonous arcade.
What a deprived childhood we had. No video games- -we went to the park. No flashing lights- -we climbed trees. No tokens- -we played tiddlywinks. And most conspicuously- -no beer. Except for Uncle Willie. I think he must have had a little bottle of something with him at all times. After all- -he was retired.
Los Angeles, March 7, 2009
Like everyone who has ever spawned, sooner or later the progeny will evolve and mature and have progeny of their own. Your grandchildren. Then you will have no excuse to avoid that “special party” at Chuck E Cheese’s. Flashing lights - - loud music- -and some guy in a rat suit. The very best in rodent entertainment. Fortunately they serve beer. Beer? At a kids’ arcade? Hmmm…What focus group thought this up?
Most ice cream, pizza parlors and burger joints have kid’s party packages complete with clowns or huggie bears. We have one near us with a giant robin and another with a huge octopus. As Gramps you get to see them all. You’re retired, or so the people who control your career think, and so have no good reason why you can’t go to little Holy Terror of Satan’s birthday party, or graduation from pre-school party, or, as we- - (Grandma and I) just did, a “Potty Party” celebrating the fact that your little darling one has finally learned not to pee his pants. I ask you- -did they ever have such a party for you when you finally learned to go “diaper free”? I didn’t think so. Me either.
So just as one learns to control one’s bladder and the timing of relieving one’s self, they bring you to a place that serves beer. Am I the only one that sees the irony in this? Beer. Now it’s Grampa who has trouble controlling his bladder and is challenged with the one beverage that contributes to the timing of his bio-rhythms. It’s just plain evil.
Of course a certain amount of alcohol is necessary to persevere in an environment of screaming sugared-up micro-boppers and to say “Sure, why not?” to one more $35 plain cheese pizza which is about the same quality as frozen pizza- -unthawed. Beer. Soon it will be Grampa’s turn to return to the diaper. Shall we also have a party then? Will they serve beer? Probably not. Probably prune juice.
But the very idea of sedating the adults while over-amping the children works so well as family entertainment that regardless of the economic times, these places are booming.
“Grampa, can I have another ten bucks for tokens?” Why not? They have to be introduced to slot machines and gambling sooner or later and what better time to do it than surrounded by friends and family in the cozy setting of a cacophonous arcade.
What a deprived childhood we had. No video games- -we went to the park. No flashing lights- -we climbed trees. No tokens- -we played tiddlywinks. And most conspicuously- -no beer. Except for Uncle Willie. I think he must have had a little bottle of something with him at all times. After all- -he was retired.
Michael Phelps Bongo Boy! Or Is It Bong, Oh Boy!?
By Danny McBride
Los Angeles, February 7, 2009
Olympic swimming star Michael Phelps made news this week because a photograph of him appeared in a British tabloid showing him in South Carolina hitting up a bong last fall at a party. The USA Swimming Team freaked out and suspended him for three months saying “What kind of message does this send to America’s youth?”
Actually it sends the right message. which is, “Smoke all the Chronic you want and still win eight gold medals.” Or “Pot does no harm. Get over yourself.”
We all know that. Why are people still so intent on busting pot smokers? Milk drinkers could be next. Eating broccoli? Then that’s it pal, you’re done.
The “War on Drugs” as it’s called, has been one of the most abysmal failures this government has ever undertaken. I’m smoking a bowl right now as I write this. Where did I get it? At a Medicinal Marijuana store- -legal in California. Where did the pot come from? Right here in our home state where it is our number one cash crop- -more than lettuce, more than corn, more than anything else in the garden. And you can grow it and buy it tax free.
That’s just nuts! Instead of wasting millions trying to stamp out a weed that grows happily anywhere- -sort of like crab grass or dandelions- -we could be making millions in tax revenues by decriminalizing it and selling it like alcohol and tobacco.- - a level of control- -and that would include also for the quality.
Kids can drive at 16, go in the Army and shoot people at 18, and have a beer when they’re 21- -which seems silly because after shooting a few insurgents there’s nothing quite like a cold beer. Or a couple of satisfying bong hits.
And now Kellogg’s has cancelled Michael Phelps’ endorsement contract, which is also nuts. What great ad campaign possibilities: Michael with his bong and a box of Pop Tarts and the slogan “Hand in Hand” or something like that. “Whenever I’m hammered and get the munchies, a box and a half of Frosted Flakes hits the spot. They’re GREAT” or “Dude…Snap, Crackle and Pop…Totally awesome.”
Pot is embedded in our culture, just like alcohol or coffee. No, not everyone indulges but everyone is aware of its existence. I’m not suggesting that we become a nation of stoners, but just that pot is a reality of life in America and we ought to grow up and treat it like the controlled substance it should be treated as: regulated for quality and taxed accordingly, just like tobacco and alcohol. Yes, we don’t need either of those in our culture either, but they’re here, probably to stay, and so is the Ganja. Grow up. Treat it like it is not some fantasy about how it might be in some parallel universe.
But it leads to harder drugs, they say. Ah, no, not really, especially now that you can buy it at Medical Marijuana stores. In the olden days contraband of all kinds was available from black market entrepreneurs- -guns, drugs, sexual miscreants, you name it. So the idea was that, yes, sometimes the sales pitch was that one should try this or that also for sale from some guy with no actual name at 3:00 in the morning. That was the only connection. with pot. Separated out to its own dispensaries there is no longer any connection between the sacred herb and the other junk. The Feds still are trying to close these stores down. The California Attorney General Jerry Brown says he wants to keep them open and will go to court to make sure that happens. Doesn’t the Federal Government have more important things to be working on? Don’t we still have terrorists? A tanking economy? A medical health insurance nightmare? Banks taking billions and then paying out bonuses? Iraq and Afghanistan? On and on and on. What’s a couple of bong hits compared to all this?
You don’t have to smoke it yourself. Just realize it for what it is.
Okay enough. This is turning into a stoned rant. You get my drift.
Good luck Michael. You’re awesome, Dude.
Drift…Ah…Yeah…
-30-
Los Angeles, February 7, 2009
Olympic swimming star Michael Phelps made news this week because a photograph of him appeared in a British tabloid showing him in South Carolina hitting up a bong last fall at a party. The USA Swimming Team freaked out and suspended him for three months saying “What kind of message does this send to America’s youth?”
Actually it sends the right message. which is, “Smoke all the Chronic you want and still win eight gold medals.” Or “Pot does no harm. Get over yourself.”
We all know that. Why are people still so intent on busting pot smokers? Milk drinkers could be next. Eating broccoli? Then that’s it pal, you’re done.
The “War on Drugs” as it’s called, has been one of the most abysmal failures this government has ever undertaken. I’m smoking a bowl right now as I write this. Where did I get it? At a Medicinal Marijuana store- -legal in California. Where did the pot come from? Right here in our home state where it is our number one cash crop- -more than lettuce, more than corn, more than anything else in the garden. And you can grow it and buy it tax free.
That’s just nuts! Instead of wasting millions trying to stamp out a weed that grows happily anywhere- -sort of like crab grass or dandelions- -we could be making millions in tax revenues by decriminalizing it and selling it like alcohol and tobacco.- - a level of control- -and that would include also for the quality.
Kids can drive at 16, go in the Army and shoot people at 18, and have a beer when they’re 21- -which seems silly because after shooting a few insurgents there’s nothing quite like a cold beer. Or a couple of satisfying bong hits.
And now Kellogg’s has cancelled Michael Phelps’ endorsement contract, which is also nuts. What great ad campaign possibilities: Michael with his bong and a box of Pop Tarts and the slogan “Hand in Hand” or something like that. “Whenever I’m hammered and get the munchies, a box and a half of Frosted Flakes hits the spot. They’re GREAT” or “Dude…Snap, Crackle and Pop…Totally awesome.”
Pot is embedded in our culture, just like alcohol or coffee. No, not everyone indulges but everyone is aware of its existence. I’m not suggesting that we become a nation of stoners, but just that pot is a reality of life in America and we ought to grow up and treat it like the controlled substance it should be treated as: regulated for quality and taxed accordingly, just like tobacco and alcohol. Yes, we don’t need either of those in our culture either, but they’re here, probably to stay, and so is the Ganja. Grow up. Treat it like it is not some fantasy about how it might be in some parallel universe.
But it leads to harder drugs, they say. Ah, no, not really, especially now that you can buy it at Medical Marijuana stores. In the olden days contraband of all kinds was available from black market entrepreneurs- -guns, drugs, sexual miscreants, you name it. So the idea was that, yes, sometimes the sales pitch was that one should try this or that also for sale from some guy with no actual name at 3:00 in the morning. That was the only connection. with pot. Separated out to its own dispensaries there is no longer any connection between the sacred herb and the other junk. The Feds still are trying to close these stores down. The California Attorney General Jerry Brown says he wants to keep them open and will go to court to make sure that happens. Doesn’t the Federal Government have more important things to be working on? Don’t we still have terrorists? A tanking economy? A medical health insurance nightmare? Banks taking billions and then paying out bonuses? Iraq and Afghanistan? On and on and on. What’s a couple of bong hits compared to all this?
You don’t have to smoke it yourself. Just realize it for what it is.
Okay enough. This is turning into a stoned rant. You get my drift.
Good luck Michael. You’re awesome, Dude.
Drift…Ah…Yeah…
-30-
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