Going to the vets

A few nifty anecdotes for Memorial Day

For Veteran's Day last year, I wrote a tribute to various members of my family who served in the military, both in wartime and in peacetime. This post expands on a few of their stories.


If you've stalked my Blogger profile (and, really, who hasn't?), then you might recognize at least half of the above picture. This was taken on Easter weekend 2005, when my cousins and their parents visited us from Arkansas. The guy towering over me is my first cousin Damon McGibboney, who had recently returned from a tour in Iraq. Since 2001, he had lived and trained in Germany with the 4-3 ADA, where he served as a Sergeant. You can see him on page eight of this newsletter working a security checkpoint in Tikrit.

Being that Damon was the first of many soldier friends and family that I have seen return from Iraq, I wasn't sure what to expect. He defused any trepidation right away by saying, "Hey man, I found your website. Good stuff!" We all had a good time partying for a few days at my place.

Concerning Iraq, two things he said really stuck with me: 1) "It's not bad there. The worst thing is that everybody smells like underarm" and 2) "We're not big Bush fans." He told us he was being honorably discharged in May. I hope it came to pass. May they all come home ASAP.

Another veteran who taught me much of what I know about World War II is my maternal grandfather, Henry Roberthon. I called him "Pop," and he lived next door. He gave up a four-year agriculture scholarship to voluntarily serve in the Navy Seabees in the Pacific theater. He walked the streets and highways of Nagasaki just days after the bombing, and witnessed firsthand the horror of a post-nuclear ghost town. He told me he saw people mutilated while the highways had not been affected at all. He also toured San Francisco, the Aleutian Islands and Hawaii.

His favorite war story was about a guy in his unit who could piss over a Quonset hut.

Henry Frank Roberthon Jr. (1921-1999)

He was discharged on New Year's Eve, 1945. He came home, met my grandmother in a bar, and they were married on March 3, 1946. They never looked back. He was a movie projectionist and later, a TV and radio repairman. His shop was built into his house and it was my playground. For decades, if someone needed a TV fixed in Lafayette, he was the man. I once saw him fix a TV I had broken five years before. At his kitchen table. In about five minutes. With a screwdriver. Eleven years after he had retired. Be all you can be? He was.

One of my most prized possessions is his Navy pullover, which he gave to me when I was 12. I actually wore it a couple of times, but knew that I'd never fit into it quite like he did. He also had a whole bevy of rifles from the period, and had a story for every one. One year, my younger cousin borrowed them for a social-studies-fair project on WWII and got first place. I always wondered how an elementary-school kid managed to bring rifles to a Catholic school and not only not get arrested, but get awarded in the process. Then again, the early 1990s were an innocent time.


Left: On the day of my high school graduation, 1998; Right: cutting a rug in March 1995

In 1998, he was going through his closet when he found a loose reel of undeveloped film. He remembered it to be from his Navy days, back when film came off a roll like toilet paper. He had taken a whole bunch of pictures but never got around to having them developed. On a hunch, he took it to Wal-Mart along with his most recent film. He explained his find and asked them if they could try to develop it. Sure enough, the film yielded numerous pictures--some off-center and all of them grainy, but compelling pictures nonetheless. The technicians were so awed by the results that they let him have them at no cost. I won't post them here, because I feel that they deserve a separate entry.

Pop succumbed to pancreatic cancer on February 7, 1999, having beat back a litany of injuries and maladies over the years. I miss him a lot. One of his buddies had a bumper sticker that said, "Love your freedom? Thank a vet." I never had to be reminded.

His wife of 53 years, my grandmother, had three brothers also serve in WWII. All three served in different capacities (at least one who was a fighter pilot, right) and all came home to live long and productive lives.

Left to right: Lennie "Big Ham" Hamilton (1908-1994); Billy Hamilton (1915-1980); John Harrell "Little Ham" Hamilton (1922-2002). Behind them is my childhood home, where I lived for my first 19 years. You can see the windows of my bedroom. I wasn't there at the time, though.

I'm sure that all of you know at least a few veterans and current soldiers. Wartime politics are always messy--now more than ever. Thus we must never forget about those doing the dirty work, because they are friends, family and (above all) human beings. Happy Memorial Day.

Could you be a conservative?

If you think that African-Americans don’t deserve reparations because you “had nothing to do with what my ancestors did,” yet you’re more than willing to browbeat everyone (and yourself) about Original Sin…

If you believe that tax cuts for the poorest segments of society make them lazy, yet big businesses deserve tax cuts for motivation…

If you, without irony, think gays are going to hell because “Real Men Love Jesus…”

If you believe in the “free market,” yet you have no problem with Wal-Mart…

If you think John Kerry was a flip-flopper for changing his mind about Iraq, yet Strom Thurmond supposedly renouncing his racism was emotional growth…

If you think the filibuster is a far worse weapon than a handgun…

If you consistently accuse liberals of parroting the official party line of Democratic Underground, yet unabashedly toe the Fox News/GOPAC/Free Republic lines…

If you nod your head when Ann Coulter calls for the death of liberals for being unpatriotic traitors, yet get angry whenever truthful comparisons between Republican and Nazi tactics are made…

If academia is your number-one enemy, unless someone’s outdated thesis can be used to justify an unjustifiable war…

If you think the Democrats lack charisma, and would do well from observing the personalities of such likeable men as Dick Cheney…

If you dismissed John Kerry as being too dull and Howard Dean as being too emotive…

If you think Iraq was responsible for 9/11 and thus deserved to be attacked so we could save the nice people of that country, who would greet us with flowers for saving them from their weapons of mass destruction which they never had but we thought they might, and this makes a bit of fucking sense to you…

If you sincerely believe that George W. Bush, the Ivy-League-educated scion of a former president and governor of Texas, was somehow a Washington outsider…

If you think “Red Dawn” was a documentary…

If you think No Child Left Behind is great education reform, despite the fact that very few educators seem to like the program…

If you believe that welfare takes up 50 percent of the federal budget…

If you think gambling is the work of the devil, yet the stock market is a gift from God…

If you believe that Bush found his calling after 9/11, but never bother to ask yourself why you voted for a man who you knew to be aimless and incompetent 10 months before…

Then you just might be a Republican. And you’re definitely in need of some help.

Blogger's Block

I'm suffering from writer's block.

Writer's block is the scourge of writers everywhere. Imagine going to work one day only to forget how to do your job. Imagine having to give the keynote speech at a political convention only to suffer a stroke once you get to the podium. Imagine sitting on a toilet, straining furiously, desperately needing to take that shit before your taxi arrives and starts honking. "You're on the clock!" So as you can see, writer's block is the bane of our existence. The antithesis of productivity. The opposite of writing.

What causes writer's block? Who knows? Despite its prevalence through the history of the written word, virtually no one has bothered to use their downtime to research the phenomenon. You think they would, for the sake of ending writer's block. But writers, by and large, are stupid. Instead of trying to better mankind (or at least themselves), authors would much rather write the next bestseller or (shudder) pulp novel. I mean, has anyone noticed the Franklin W. Dixon and Carolyn Keene are STILL churning out books? Goddamn, man. I think the Hardy Boys are Hardy Codgers at this point. And Nancy Drew's sagging all over her magnifying glass. Yet somehow, these books still continue to be written on a rapid basis!

Of course, there's a reason the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew are ongoing series. It's because their mysteries continue to resonate with new generations. It's also because the teenage sleuths become hipper and hipper with every passing book (at least in a focus-group kind of way). Check out an old copy of "The Tower Treasure" (the first Hardy Boys book) and compare what the boys are wearing in the pictures to how they look in the latest paperback. Whereas they always looked like they were going to Mister Rogers' Neighborhood in the old books, now they look like extras from the set of "Saved By the Bell: The College Years."

Funny story: when I was nine, I became really obsessed with the Hardy Boys. How obsessed? I often read the books during class. I used them for all of my book reports and used all of my library privileges on them. Every Saturday I would go to my local B. Dalton and rip my mom off for a new book. I can still remember the popcorny smell that emanated from the new volumes. Orgasmic. Hell, they're the reason I got into writing in the first place. My first attempts at composition? A slightly derivative series of mystery novels collectively entitled "Ron's Mysteries," which centered around a detective named Ron Dreyfuss. He would go around solving mysteries in such places as graveyards and toy factories. His steed was his police car (which was modeled after a matchbox car I had, and got blown up in one book in favor of another toy cop car). I envisioned all of this being spun off into a TV series starring John Stamos.

Yes indeed, I was such a hardcore Hardy Boys fan that I even did my 4th-grade social-studies-fair project on the duo, called "Growing Up with the Hardy Boys." That's where I learned that the first eight books were written by some guy named Edward Stratemeyer, and that his daughter took over after he died. They then had to rewrite most of the originals, I think for racial reasons. Since then, any litany of nobodies has contributed to this classic canon. Apparently this is standard practice in the literary-franchise industry. While I always appreciate a good novel, it still astounds me how people will sell their creativity to an anonymous monolith just to write "Love's Lost Passion of the Musclebound Heart" for the sake of a few bucks. These writers should celebrate the fact that they are able to let the words flow, as opposed to myself, who currently has nothing to say.

My Mom's always saying to me, "Ian, you need to write the next Harry Potter." Of course, what she's really saying is, "Ian, I want you to write the latest hot literary franchise so I can buy a new car and get a hot tub with jets." Hey, I am as big a fan as anybody of bestselling series. But writing is a fickle thing, not subject to the same deadlines as the quarterly earnings report. Inspiration comes out in bits and spurts, which is probably not the best analogy. Composing text can feel pretty damn awesome, but too much writing at one time can really make you tired. Okay, so maybe that was an appropriate analogy.

But what my Mom (and most other people) miss is that my style of writing is not necessarily conducive to the literature section. I am a political commentator, making my writer's block all the more pathetic. As the late Lewis Grizzard so succinctly put it: "It's easy being a columnist! There's so much news!" For example, if I chose to do so, I could write about the recent Republican attempt to pass the filibuster-buster. You'd think that the GOP's attempt to change age-old Senatorial rules for their own petty partisan purposes would spark an essay on why they are such temperamental, self-serving, arrogant, revisionist, bitter, cranky lockstep blowhards. If only I could find the right words to describe that. Things are bad when I can't even write about George W. Bush, who got into the president's chair unfairly and has since shown what an incompetent, one-track bully he is by squandering the entire world's support into two questionable quagmires at the costs of millions of jobs and thousands of lives. And yet I can't think of a single thing to say about that. How sad.

I'll write about those things when my muse returns once again. Perhaps some other day.

Frustrated Incorporated

The post that was here today has been taken down, pending a rewrite. Somewhere between 1:31 and 6:14 p.m. today, half of it disappeared and my template was screwed up. I fixed the template, but I cannot recover the post (even Google doesn't have it cached). If anyone has any idea what the hell's going on, I'd really like to know. This isn't the first time my template's been messed with, but it is the first time I've lost content, and I'm really upset.

There's a penalty for being offensive?

Thin-skinned sports anchor sues comic stripper

Talk about a frivolous lawsuit! (Membership required)

Bill Griffith of the Boston Globe reports:

Channel 4 sports anchor Bob Lobel has filed a libel suit against "Get Fuzzy" comic strip creator Darby Conley, United Feature Syndicate, and the New Bedford Standard-Times, seeking unspecified damages and "such other and further relief the court finds just and appropriate."

"It implies and asserts that Lobel is intoxicated when appearing on television. During his entire 34-plus-year career, Lobel has never appeared on the air intoxicated or under the influence of alcohol. The statement that Lobel is a drunk is false and is intended to injure him personally and professionally, and was made at a time when it was common knowledge that Lobel was in negotiations with his employer for a contract renewal."

Here's what I want to know: if Lobel is such an obvious professional, with decades of experience and acclaim in a large media market, then why would he assume that a comic strip's allegation of drunkenness would somehow tarnish him? No one who lives and works in the public eye for 34-plus years should expect a free ride.

The complaint further charges that "the matters referred to in the cartoon were made with actual malice by the defendants, their agents, servants, and employees, and were made with knowledge that the accusations were false, or were made with reckless disregard of whether they were false." [emphasis mine]

Ah, good old actual malice. This is a highly loaded term; "actual malice" is the toughest standard to prove in the court of law. By using it, Lobel is in effect establishing himself as a public figure. Which he is, because he's been on TV for 34 years. In layman's terms, actual malice means the defendant acted with intent to ruin someone's reputation by printing a deliberate lie. Public figures are considered ripe for press, satire and criticism in American law; thus, they have the most legal hurdles to cover when suing someone for defamation. Actual malice, then, is the barrier keeping every celebrity in America from suing the National Enquirer (or assorted blogs) on a daily basis. It also means Lobel's very likely to lose this lawsuit.

The website www.comics.com, which archives strips, including Get Fuzzy, has substituted a different strip in its May 13 file, and took down pages about the strip's author and its history.

If an incident like this is all it takes to completely destroy a syndicated artist's volume of work, then maybe I should hang on to my clips after all.

"Get Fuzzy" runs in more than 100 papers, including the Globe, where Lobel's name was changed to "him."

Shouldn't we at least have a chance to decide for ourselves whether or not the strip is objectionable?

"The Globe's action helps us," said Manion. ''The paper exercised editorial responsibility. If not, believe me, we would have sued them."

This sounds like extortion to me. Manion telling a Globe reporter that he would have sued them had they not censored themselves? I'd say something deservedly angry, but I'm afraid it would seep through his thin skin and he'd try to sue me also.

Actual libel is serious charge. I don't think it applies to a cartoonist who satirizes what is apparently a very visible quality of the anchorman:

[Lobel's] on-air demeanor mixes humor and news, and the occasional lapses of focus that have led to rumors that he may have been drinking before going on the air.

I wonder if they'll sue the Globe for that statement as well?

Said Manion: "I'm with him socially, at functions, and on the golf course. He's not a drinker."

Please understand, I don't give a damn whether Lobel is a completely sober and professional anchor or whether he gets sloshed before every broadcast. I also don't care what he does in his personal life. What I DO care about is the integrity of free speech, and hope that this lawsuit ends as it should: with its quick dismissal. For the sake of continued free speech in the United States, we cannot bow to the angry whims of the easily offended.

Caption Contest

"Because I like doing them" edition


--"Through amber waves of white..."
--"'Scuse me, are you not a rich old white male in a suit? Then sit yourself in the balcony just lack the good old days"
--Hey, George, what is the average hair count of your audience?
--Bush's success story has inspired me so much that I want to get a good job so I can buy a house and not rent an apartheid...um, apartment.
--For $20,000, you too can teach Dubya how to clap, one hand at a time
--At least Reagan knew that a good actor never turns his back to the audience
--Few of the assembled Republicans noticed Rob Corddry secretly taking notes on his hand in the front row
--"The token black guy will be here in five minutes...he got pulled over on the way here"
--"Waitress? Five thousand tuna-and-mayo sandwiches on white!"
--In other news, Jesus Christ returned to Earth today during a Bush rally in South Carolina...this exclusive picture was taken two seconds before they all learned the truth.
--In an alternate universe, Bush hawked Ronco products on "Amazing Discoveries"
--Bush welcomes the 2005 Frivolous Law Suits convention
--"Can you believe the sissy French have the nerve to use the word 'blanc' for white? Why, that's almost 'black!'"
--"Psst, Dick, they're all supposed to salute like this, right?"
--"See that man in the fifth row with the blue suit? Yeah, the fifth row...take him out!"
--Photoshop is a wonderful thing...wait, really?

A hooker of a different kind

Business student literally sells herself

Nice ads!

MSNBC reports on the latest walking billboard to ruin the age-old sport of people-watching:

Courtney Van Dunk posted a bikini-clad picture of herself on eBay about two weeks ago, auctioning off space on her body for advertisers.

Because what's the point of a perfect body if bereft of moneymaking potential? Vegas prostitutes have known this for years!

Her butt and chest are off limits.

Because she doesn't want to cheapen or otherwise desecrate her body, you understand.

"I got the idea from a marketing class I had that did a short segment on body advertising," Van Dunk said.

The idea was obtained from a marketing class? That's never good.

"I was wondering how advertising could get through to our TV-savvy generation, and I thought this would be an excellent way to do it."

1) "TV-savvy generation?" Isn't that everyone these days? My grandfather was a WWII veteran who repaired televisions. He was pretty TV-savvy. Somehow that doesn't seem edgy.

2) If this world needs anything, it's new and innovative ways of imparting advertisements to the previously ad-free public.

3) On the other hand, bikini-clad hotties are an excellent way to do just about anything.

Van Dunk credits moderate exercise and healthy eating for the fit figure that has earned worldwide interest.

"We never ate a lot of fast food or greasy things growing up. My mom is an excellent cook. I really owe a lot to my parents for that," Van Dunk said.

In related news, the sky is blue, cigarettes are bad for you and oceans are wet.

Am I the only one who does not see the personal-billboard trend as a bold step forward for mankind? Instead, I find it creepy beyond belief on so many levels: 1) people are selling their skin just to make a few bucks; 2) they don't see anything odd about this; 3) were this trend to catch on, it would further validate my theory that capitalism is replacing common sense as the default behavioral mechanism.

Already we see such horror in sports, where corporate sponsorship pollutes everything from the game's name (Nokia Sugar Bowl) to the individual incidents ("This has been a Summer's Eve disposable-douche timeout!"). Are we now going to see Blockbuster Bill Smith? Marion "Juicy-Juice" Jones? Lance Armstrong Lance Armstrong?



It's a frightening prospect indeed.

A chance to bitch and moan

Hello, friends! Here at Not Right About Anything, I'm celebrating 352 days of operation with my first-ever reader survey.

I was going to do this anyway, but I'm particularly spurred by a recent devastating revelation. Namely, our old friend Goblin Slayer has charged me with one count of losing my edge. His arrest warrant reads as follows:

Ian,
Just wanted to let you know that your blog became excessively boring. I used to think that you had the ability to shed some "progressive" moonbat light on today's issues, however, you only whine and complain about pointless shit.

I’m just saying you were much more edgy a couple of months ago. Perhaps it’s the burnout from finishing your Master’s.

As a blogger for the people, I certainly don't want to alienate my readership! If Goblin Slayer has something bad to say about Not Right, can anyone else be far behind? I certainly don't want my recent academic success to result in a dumbed-down blog. With that in mind, I seek your input on the following questions. Don't do it for me; do it for you! :)

Here's a sample question and answer:

A) Name the content of any four of my last 10 posts. And can you throw stones?

Goblin Slayer: I can throw all the stones I want since 4 out of your last 10 posts included two rants about Subway’s Sandwich card and two lousy caption contest posts.

So as you can see, it's really quite simple. Answer as many or as few as you want, and add some if you feel it necessary. There's no penalty for guessing. Just remember to fill in the entire bubble or the machine will not mark it, thus dooming you to a lifetime of pain and loneliness.

1) What first brought you to this blog?

2) What made you first return on purpose?

3) What regular features do you like best (Caption Contest, right-wing T-shirts, columns, random commentary, personal anecdotes, etc.)? Least?

4) Is there anything you'd like to see addressed here more often? Less often?

5) If you could hack into this blog and change something...oops, let me rephrase that...if you could request one change to the interface of this site, what would it be?

6) Out of all of my regular commenters, who's your favorite and why? Show them some love!

7) If this blog has been online for 352 days, then what day did I start it? Show your work.

8) List your favorite president, followed by your least favorite president. Then list Chester A. Arthur.

9) Should Subway reinstate its Sub Club program in all markets? Show your work.

10) Do you forgive me for the whole April Fool's incident? Because I'm really, really sorry about that.

11) Are we as a country really sliding down a well-lubricated shithole or what? If you choose "what," please bring a bag of whatever you're smoking for all of us.

12) Any extra comments? Here's a blank: _______

Thank you for taking time to answer my little survey. From the bottom of my heart, I need feedback. Just kidding! I mean, have a great day.

Sub standard

As you might recall, I was a little miffed last week when I learned that my local Subway had discontinued its Sub Club stamp program. Not taking this lying down, I wrote the company an e-mail that appears on the May 9 post linked above. Three days later, I received an official reply. It follows:

Dear Mr Mcgibboney:

The SUBWAY® restaurant chain's Sub Club® Card customer appreciation program has been around for many years and customers have enjoyed collecting stamps on the back of the card and redeeming them for a free submarine sandwich. The program’s parameters have remained relatively the same for nearly a decade.

Currently, the chain is seeking ways to make our customers’ experiences in our restaurants even more rewarding. To do this, we have made slight changes to the program in some markets, made major changes in other markets and have eliminated it in a small number of markets. In areas where the card has been eliminated, we have encouraged our franchisees to increase the amount of specials and promotions they offer as a way to show appreciation for customers who choose to visit SUBWAY® restaurants.

We frequently review all of our products and programs. In the case of the Sub Club® Card, we want to insure we have a program that is beneficial for the franchisees while still generating excitement among customers.

We appreciate customer input on this and all issues. More than anything else, it is the customers who determine what products and programs are featured in SUBWAY® restaurants.

Sincerely,
Toni Ann Savoca x8201
Customer Care Representative

Fair enough. Her name kinda freaks me out, though. Does that make her a corporate drone or a science-fiction Jetson from the future?

In any case, Subway is still on my good side. Because they are nothing like Wal-Mart.

God bless you! Here's a hanky

Yesterday, I had the good fortune to receive a special letter from God himself. How wonderful to be counted among the faithful, along with everyone else in Lafayette! So how do I know that these nice folks are specifically targeting good old Ian? Well, for one, their greeting speaks volumes:

Dear...Someone Connected with This House,

And who else but God would know that I live at my house? I'm sold.

The prayer group acting on God's divine mandate is St. Matthew's Church, which is (like everything else that is sane) based in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Keen-eyed customers will notice that the mailer actually comes from the zipcode 52641, which is Mt. Pleasant, Iowa. They must have a church bus or something.

St. Matthew's is a non-prophet church established in 1951, a fact trumpeted over and over in the letter to lend gravitas (which should tell you something). New commandment: Thou shalt not lend credence to a church born the same year as Rush Limbaugh.

The thrust of the letter is that the parishioners of St. Matthew's have been on their collective knees, fellating God in order to bring glad tidings unto McGibboney Manor. The Holy Spirit's answer to their quandary was that I needed a flimsy paper snotrag:

Here, let me read what God's Holy Word says about these Bible handkerchiefs: "And God wrought special miracles by the hands of Paul: So that from his body were brought unto the sick H-A-N-D-K-E-R-C-H-I-E-F-S or aprons..." ACTS 19:11,12.

Thanks for the spelling lesson, folks. I value that quality in people who make the elementary-level "whose/who's" error right there on the envelope:



But I digress. The catch is that God can only do so much without that damn "cloth," so I have to lay it out in the closest Bible overnight to simmer, then write my name and related info on it and return it with the enclosed checklist. Seems like an innocuous process until you see just how startlingly an inscribed prayer cloth resembles an automobile title:



It's almost enough to question their real motivations. That is, of course, until you read over their checklist and you realize that there's no direct plea for money. That's right! Nowhere on any of the material does it ever ask you for money. Yes, it does have a glaringly long blank for a donation amount at the bottom of the checklist; but with the potential for blessings such as those excerpted below, who wouldn't fork over at least a small tithe?

Pray for my family and me for...
( ) A Closer Walk with Jesus
( ) To Be Saved.
( ) Our Family Member's Health
( ) Confusion In My Home
( ) A Money Blessing
( ) Pray for God to bless me with this amount of money: $_______

I don't know about you, but I'm going with confusion in my home. Only seems fair.

Just in case you aren't dying to sell your soul to the saved at this point, an additional insert (made of the same material as the "cloth") offers Stirring Testimonials to the power of positive thinking and anointed cloth:

My son was in jail...God made a way for my son to come back home with us.

Ah, the miracle of bail!

My son-in-law got off dope...

Religion is a cheaper opiate. Sometimes.

God touched my daughter's body. She had been off work nearly two years...

After that, she no doubt turned tricks with the best of them.

After reading these and equally gripping corruptions of cause-and-effect, I'm so pumped about this prayer-cloth thing! In fact, I wish I was sick like this guy right now! Then I would know that Jesus loves me:



Some final suggestions for those of you who wish to feel true spiritual satisfaction through the miracle of papyrus:

1) Send the swag back with everything checked, along with a few extra handwritten needs: random stuff like "a new bicycle pump," "a Marilyn Manson CD" and "more letters like this." And ask them why they need the prayer kerchief back when all they had to do was keep it to begin with. And do all this without sending a donation. Hey, it's not like they asked for it! And like the Bible, this checklist should be taken literally, with no room for interpretation.

2) Make up and send back similar blessings of your own creation. Make up your own cult (selective Bible-passage quoting a plus!) and try to sell them on it. Send a tissue for good measure. Tell them it's an anointed cloth that, in mixed company, will magically result in a "God bless you" if used during a sneeze.

Do all of this and you will be a true child of the cloth! Amen.

Caption Contest

"Putting the 'bus' in Bush" edition

--Obvious: Now there's a homosexual marriage worth banning
--The kiss of death for peace
--Bush got carried away with the "seeing-his-soul-in-his-eyes" business
--Catching up on the latest gas-sip
--Is Bush kissing a pretty young woman or an old crone? It's an optical illusion!
--"So I see you also ate crow for lunch!"
--"George, you're my heroine for funding my poppy field! Get it?"
--It's not a French kiss; it's a freedom kiss!
--Time for the OPEC Smackdown title bout!
--Bush finds out why burkhas really are a bad idea
--"So you're Prince Bandar? Ah really love that 'Raspberry Beret' song!"
--"I recommend Clearasil for that pimple, George."
--"Psst! The buck! Pass it on!"
--Talk about kissing up to the Saudis!
--"Yes, I'll sell you oil. Now turn your head, cough and say 'ahh!'"
--Drugs, homosexuality, Muslims and peaceful gestures: it's every nightmare Bush ever had, rolled into one picture

The first day of the rest of my life

Yesterday was my latest graduation. I now officially possess a master's degree, and can now actually use the rental-car coupons they gave me both times I graduated. Ah, the perks of being 25!

But if I am to believe what every teacher I had from preschool on up said, then I just finished the best years of my life. Holy shit.

Time to get married. Just kidding.

I need help. And brakes. A job with benefits would be really nice too.

Dear God, what have ye against us?!!

Dick Cheney visits Lafayette yet AGAIN

(*WARNING: Dick Cheney close-up shot at this link*)

By Kayla Gagnet, a reporter friend who deserves better than this

YOUNGSVILLE - A motorcade with Vice President Dick Cheney will likely pass through one of the area's busiest intersections today during one of the busiest times - five o'clock traffic on Friday afternoon. Be prepared for blocked roads and heavy congestion along Verot School Road south of Ambassador Caffery Parkway, where more than 20,000 vehicles travel every day.

That's probably a (bad pun alert) conservative figure. Traffic there is bad enough on a normal day; but isn't it just like Dr. Evil to block off our roads at the worst-possible time? Thanks, Cheney. You really know how to get the common folk on your side.

Cheney is scheduled to appear today at a $250-a-head fundraiser for U.S. Rep. Charles Boustany, R-Lafayette. The "Southern Seafood Soiree" is being held at the Verot School Road mansion of Patrick and Jennifer Leblanc, just south of the intersection with Fortune Road. The doors for the VIPs open at 4 p.m.

Like I said, you really know how to get the common folk on your side.

Lafayette Parish Sheriff's Office spokesman Lt. Craig Stansbury said some roads may be blocked temporarily as Cheney's motorcade passes, but he could not reveal which roads or when. "If you believe that you might be traveling anywhere in the vicinity at that time, take an alternate route," Stansbury said.

Nice piece of double-talk there! "Have some tea, there isn't any." Far be it for them to convenience travelers!

The exact route of Cheney's motorcade, or the time of its arrival, is unknown for security reasons. There is, however, only one way to get to the Leblanc home on Verot School Road. At the white-columned mansion Thursday afternoon, workers unloaded trucks behind the brick and iron gates. Large white tents had been set up on the front of the 19-acre property. A red, white and blue banner hung from the home's second-floor balcony.

Can you believe there's actually a PICTURE of the house with this article, as well as a general mention of its location? Verot School Road is a few minutes long by car, tops. If the Cheney posse is trying to cover its tracks, it could do better.

The event begins at 5 p.m. with a roundtable; it costs $4,000 a person to be one of 20 at the sit-down meeting with the vice president. A VIP reception with a photo costs an extra $1,000.

Just like a town-hall meeting!

"It's pretty good mix of local people," Jones said of the guest list, although she would not reveal names. "... From community leaders to just supporters, to people who just want to come and see the vice president."

Yeah, you know, local folks who just happen to have at least several hundred dollars lying around. And who can't publicly express support for the vice-president because that might incite the wrong reaction from people. Poor bastards.

Lafayette City-Parish President Joey Durel will be one of the guests. He said Thursday he plans to attend, and he's excited that Cheney is making another trip to the area. "I think that's a pretty big deal that a town the size of Lafayette has two visits in a year from the vice president of the United States," Durel said.

Well, when you consider that one section of Lafayette is called the OIL CENTER, is it really any fucking surprise that Cheney likes to visit so much?

If there's a story to be had here, it's not in the shameless fundraising galas that are the centerpiece of any visit Cheney makes. Hell, I don't even think those publicity stunts are worth covering; when campaigning occurs at any of the council meetings I cover, I don't even make mention of it. No, the real story lies in the fact that the Vice President of the United States repeatedly visits the rich people of my city, at hugely expensive and super-exclusive events, while tying up traffic and public services that allow the rest of us to get on with our average lives.

In return, Cheney gets fawning and harmless media coverage the next day in quasi-ethical articles that essentially amount to free campaign publicity. I could write about the follow-up article, but that would just be superfluous. And I say that even without having seen it.

Incidentally, I should also note that yesterday brought the first cloud cover and the threat of rain in more than a week. It was the exact weather pattern that occurred the last time Cheney visited.

Feeling city today

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

70%--Los Angeles
65%--Honolulu
60%--Washington D.C.
55%--Chicago
55%--Miami

I like this quiz, because I'm always interested in what cities describe people. It's no limited list either; a friend of mine, who isn't all that different from me in most ways, got five completely different cities. Plus, it's dead-on accurate for me.

Jesus can't drive his VW in WV

Just when I think this country is going deep into the bowels of the Religious Right...

Jesus Christ denied driver's license in West Virginia

Yes, you read right! MSNBC reports:

Attempts to prove his name really is Christ have led the man born as Peter Robert Phillips Jr. through a lengthy legal battle and a recent victory in the District of Columbia Court of Appeals.

“This all started with him expressing his faith and his respect and love for Jesus Christ,” attorney A.P. Pishevar told The Associated Press. “Now he needs to document it for legal reasons.”

Described by his attorney as a white-haired businessman in his mid-50s, Christ is moving to West Virginia to enjoy a slower lifestyle. He bought property near Lost River, about 100 miles west of Washington, and has a U.S. passport, Social Security card and Washington driver’s license bearing the name Jesus Christ.

Comprehension questions for this unit:

1) How does renaming oneself after Jesus Christ in any way a reinforcement of his teachings of the virtues of meekness and humility?
2) If Popes don't need licenses, then why should the Lord and Savior of all mankind need one to drive the gravel roads of West Virginia?
3) Couldn't he have just gotten a Jesus fish or something?
4) CHALLENGE! In the devout state of West Virginia, why hasn't the arrival of Jesus Christ in the flesh netted more news coverage than this?
5) BONUS POINTS: What Would Jesus Drive?

Christ applied for the legal name change in May 2003....

You have to admit, seeing Christ's name as an attribution in an MSNBC article is pretty cool! Anyone else getting Onion flashbacks here?

In his appeal, Christ’s attorney argued that Phillips had changed his name to Jesus Christ 15 years earlier, and “has been using the name since then without incident.”

At last! The Republicans finally have a guy who's willing to bring Jesus into America's courts, in the most literal sense. Why, he must be like a savior to them!

Or perhaps not. I mean, if Jesus can't run for president, why should we allow him to get a driver's license? Next thing you know, every dirty furriner in the country's gonna want a license too! And we can't have illegal aliens driving around legally, now can we?

Any comment from the man in the middle of this legal tussle? “Christ is not speaking to the press at this time,” Pishevar said.

Too cute! No publicity-stunt intended, I'm sure.

This is perhaps too easy...but do you suppose that, when someone stubs their toe near this guy and cries "Jesus Christ!" he's all like, "What?"

Paddled by the school board

People talk constantly about the need for education reform and the need for better-educated and qualified teachers. Well, yesterday I attempted to do my part. I visited my local school board to compile information on open teaching positions.

Oh yes, they assured me, we need English teachers at the secondary level! Oh yes, they assured me, we value someone with a master's degree who wants to help the children of tomorrow! Thank you so much for investing in the future!

Wait a minute, what was that? You aren't certified? Holy hell! No Child Left Behind requires all teachers to be certified by 2006! There's information on certification somewhere, but not here! And regardless of what some of your teacher friends told you, we won't help with you with the process! Good luck! And don't let the falling test scores give you paper cuts on the way out!

It's not that I'm opposed to certification; I'm just astounded by the sheer indifference that the school system shows someone who wants to join its ranks. Thanks, unfunded mandate! You're a real pal.

"We're looking for people like you, but not YOU!" Such is the story of my ongoing job hunt.

Fun in the public dumb-main

There's a reason some people are hermits

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to make not one, but TWO embarrassing political statements.

The first occurred at my neighborhood Subway. Between the quality food and friendly service, I eat there upwards of five days a week during the months when I have money. But when I walked in Monday, I saw an unpleasant sign that signaled the end of the Sub Club, effective that day.

For the uninitiated, the Sub Club is a promotion at Subway where you get a stamp for ordering a six-inch sub (or two for a footlong). When you fill a card with eight stamps, you get a free six-inch (or a footlong with two filled cards) with a medium-drink purchase. I've been filling and redeeming these cards on a continuous basis since the age of 15. In fact, I've redeemed so many cards that I'd sometimes get five stamps a pop just to "save you another trip" (okay, that only happened a few times, but still...such is my love for Subway).

When I sauntered up to the counter to pay, I mentioned the sign and asked the girl if they were still giving out stamps. She said no. That sucked, as I needed only two more stamps to finish my last card. Assuming my card was useless, and having a tendency to make tactless statements anyway, I smirked sardonically and tore my card in half.

"Well, I guess this is no more good, isn't it?"

The clerk cringed. "Actually, if you'd read the sign, you'd have seen that we can give you credit for those six stamps until August," she said.

"Oops!" I said. "I guess my political statement was a bit premature."

"Yep. But we're not happy about [ending Sub Club], you know."

"I figured. I know it isn't your fault. It's a corporate corner-cutting thing, no doubt. I like this place, so I'll keep coming here with or without Sub Club."

"Thank you!" they told me.

Still irritated by the Sub Club snub seven hours later, I did a little research and decided to fire off a letter to the Subway brass. Here's the text:

I am a regular customer at the Subway franchise listed above. It is a very clean and well-run outlet staffed by very friendly and competent people, and thus I eat there as often as five times a week.

It was there on May 9 when I learned that the Sub Club promotion had been discontinued. I was upset about this, because I had been an active participant in the program since 1995. In the last 10 years, I've redeemed countless cards and always thought the program was a great (and cost-effective) incentive to eat at Subway on a regular basis--not that the food itself wasn't also a major factor!

My decade of quality service from Subway helps me to understand why the chain has more than 22,000 locations in 77 countries, and why it has been ranked the number-one franchise by Entrepreneur Magazine 13 times in 17 years (including 2005). Any franchise that superior is obviously doing something right, and I think that it has something to do with its quality of customer service. With that in mind, I ask you to please reconsider the termination of the Sub Club.

Thanks,
Ian McGibboney

The second of yesterday's embarrassing political statements occurred when I went to the public library to check out some new books. I often borrow books with opposing viewpoints, just to see what a train wreck they truly are. I also use the self-checkout machine, which sometimes fails to properly clear the books; on more than one occasion, this has led me to the mortifying prospect of having to step back from the alarm and have the librarian swipe the Rush Limbaugh book that set it off. So you can imagine my excitement when, after paying my overdue fees ($4.05), my receipt led off with this fine tome:


That should satisfy Homeland Security

Yes, kids, whether it's missing the fine print on corporate stupidity or giving off the wrong impression at the public library, few peers can touch me.

Caption Contest?

--Um...sure, no problem?
--Okay, will do!
--Because if you don't, someone else will!
--"What do you mean, 'cry for help?' Wha?"
--It tickles Barbara just the right way when you push "play"
--I don't want to know what's happening underneath...

Oh hell, I just can't do this anymore! What contribution am I making to the American political discourse by dumping on the First Daughters? It's not as if they had any say in their dad's political aspirations (hell, neither did he)! They seem like your normal, everyday, high-society snobs. I know plenty of girls like that. I'm not friends with girls like that, mind you, but I know them. Self-centered, SUV-coveting, trust-fund-milking little party sluts...All right, just a few more and I promise I'll quit!

--The name of the video? The highly unanticipated straight-to-tape sequel, "Stepford Daughters"
--Girls, the photographer was joking when he said to plaster Saran-Wrap across your faces!
--The photographer got them to smile by balancing a bottle of beer over his head

Okay, I'm done. Perceived snobbishness and lame senses of humor aside, I don't really have anything against the Bush daughters. Hell, I wouldn't mind meeting them, just so I could get a personal perspective. Even now, I continue to hold hope that at least one of them will grow up to have a mind of their own.

That said, however, I think they deserve all the ridicule in the world for the video that the above graphic announced in the first place. Both veteran readers of this blog will recognize this picture from an Oct. 30, 2004 post, which heralded what was probably the most unintentionally hilarious video of the Bush campaign. I say unintentional, because it was meant to be funny in one way and was instead funny in quite another. In short, Jenna and Barbara present their dad in some "unscripted moments." You just know where this is headed:

WATCH! Dubya kiss his mom in a bizarre Oedipal manifestation!
VIEW! Laura's Xanax kick in mid-sentence!
WITNESS! George explain that he puts "more tax money in your pocket to spend here"--while standing in a jelly-bean store!

FEEL! George's kinship with his canine, Barney: "We bark together, pick fleas..."
FISH! As Oil Boy fumbles with his pole!
GET! Inside Bush's mind as he rehearses "I'm George W. Bush and I approve this message"

CRINGE! As Dubya says "Osh Kosh, by gosh!"

You can't buy comedy like this. Apparently, you can't even see it for free anymore, because the video has been moved or taken down. Apparently I wasn't the only one embarrassed by the vapidity of the First Family.

Pope my ride!

Today is my birthday. I am 25 years old. A man, technically.


Me on 5/8/85

You might wonder if I feel old. Depends on the situation, really. In college, 25 is an odd age, because you're far older than most undergraduates; among grad students and that dreaded Real World, however, 25 is fresh meat.

There are so many ways to see 25: a young age, a quarter-century, a quarter, two years before the prime rock-star flameout age, etc. It can be seen as both young and old. If properly taken care of, a 25-year-old man can be a very healthy specimen, as I try to be. If properly taken care of, a 25-year-old car is still old. It's all in the perspective, I suppose.

Speaking of old men, cars and what defines "old," I learned that the Pope's car recently sold on eBay for $244,800. The car is Joseph Ratzinger's 1999 Volkswagen Golf, which Reuters inexplicably describes as "old." Maybe I'm being the poor bastard here, but 1999 isn't exactly old to me. The truck I drive is a 1993, which I bought the same month that Ratzinger bought his new car (March 1999). Fading paint and inexplicable squeaks aside, I don't consider my truck old. Yet many people I know think a 2002 car is ancient. Hell, I graduated from college in 2002, and my newspaper clipping of the event isn't even yellow! But I digress.

The manual car has 75,000 kms (47,000 miles) on the clock, air conditioning, anti-theft equipment and alarms.

It was first registered in March 1999 to Joseph Ratzinger, a Cardinal from Germany before becoming Pope Benedict even though it is unclear whether Ratzinger ever had a driver's license.

Do Vatican officials not need driver's licenses? It seems like I have to show mine for every little transaction I make! Man, those zany Vatican Catholics get away with everything, don't they?

I hope Ratzinger/Benedict XVI does have a driver's license. I'm what you could call a driver's license collector; I have several expired ones from myself as well as from family members, both living and dead. I also try to scope out copies of celebrity licenses, though genuine ones are hard to come by. However, I have come across Tupac's and Liberace's, as well as the license of the underrated jazz great Professor Longhair. For obvious reasons, I generally steer clear of valid ones or those that otherwise show current addresses and other identifying information. Unless I can find them, heh heh...

I like to see leaders and famous people drive, because it's one of those activities that normalizes them. Cindy Crawford drives. Al Gore drives. Dubya drives. Even Kurt Cobain drove a Lexus. Sure, their cars might kick ass (and they might consider 2004 "old"), but there's still poetic justice in knowing that the man we now call Pope Benedict XVI once drove a manual Volkswagen Golf. I can connect with that more than I can connect with his hard-right views or his opulent palaces.

Halbe has been quoted in newspapers as saying the dealer told him the car had a "heavenly ride."

Halbe included a copy of the registration in the auction that showed the car belonged to "Josef Kardinal Ratzinger" and had registration plate: "CD 140 XG." The address was listed as "Citta del Vaticano."

I also collect license plates, and envy (sorry, Pope!) whoever ends up with his license plate, CD 140 XG. Now THAT would be an awesome birthday present! (Hint, hint...) Short of that, I'll just settle for a new car. See that? I'm flexible.

Oh, and Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there!

Because parenting is wasted on parents

The American Family Association needs our help!

I'm smirking 'cause I love Jesus, smartass!

From the ultra-sane American Family Association comes this alarming new bulletin!

Pornographers Set To Go After Children With Cell Phones

I guess that's better than going after them with knives...

Soon pornography will be available to our children over their cell phones. Playboy hopes to make their porn available to the 170 million cell phone subscribers throughout North America. No doubt scores of other pornographers will follow Playboy's lead.

Wow! Free porn? Awesome! You'd think Playboy would be a little more selective in who receives its product. Why, I remember reading once that Playboy was mad when guys were downloading pictures off their website for free. How times have changed! Who knew Hef was such a philanthropist?

An independent study by IDC revealed that 33.2% of cell phone users in America, more than 55 million, are between the ages of 5 and 19.

First off, why do ANY five-year-olds have cell phones? When I was five, I barely had pencils. And I certainly had no interest in pornography. Say what you want about kids growing up faster and faster these days; I still don't think many five-year-olds are feeling the urge.

Talk show host Paul McGuire of Los Angeles says of the Playboy effort: "…soon cell phones will open a tsunami of porn images…"

Thanks for the pungent imagery, Paul. Why not just say that the porn will ejaculate from the cell screens? Or that they will gush like an aroused woman?

He went on to say "just like the Internet, it will be hard to keep [this] sexual perversion from young people."

They'll have to find it the old-fashioned way: in magazines, on late-night TV and on the Internet. And when that is done, it will be hard. Way to preserve those old-fashioned values! (By the way, does anyone else sense that the AFA has officially given up on stopping Internet porn? The way it gushes like a tsunami, I guess they had no choice.)

We can expect our children to have pop-up ads on their cell phones pushing Playboy's pornography.

Which would mark the first time in history anyone ever celebrated pop-up ads.

Playboy says their new venture will allow more people to experience "the sexiness of the classic Playboy lifestyle." Unfortunately many of these people will be our children.

Because as I said above, Playboy is nothing but generous with its product. Why, they're just itching to give it away!

Pornographers are going after our children at a younger and younger age.

As are cell-phone providers. Will the madness never stop?!!

Contact the Federal Communications Commission and ask them to set heavy fines for pornographers who send their porn to our children.

TAKE ACTION NOW!

CLICK HERE TO SEND YOUR LETTERS TO ALL FOUR FCC COMMISSIONERS.

And please forward this to your friends and family. We don't need pornographers targeting our children.

Sincerely,
Don
Donald E. Wildmon, Founder and Chairman
American Family Association

P.S. Please forward this e-mail message to your family and friends. Just in case you didn't read what I said five lines up.

Instead of trying to stop the distribution of these pictures (which, I might add, is a legal and legitimate business practice), might I suggest a simpler and cheaper solution for all of the concerned parents out there?

If you're so worried about your kids downloading porn on their cell phones, then DON'T BUY THEM A CELL PHONE! OR AT LEAST NOT A CELL PHONE THAT ALLOWS FOR THE VIEWING OF FANCY PIXELATED PICTURES! Any picture I downloaded on my phone would look like Super Mario Brothers, so why not get them a phone like mine? Or better yet, teach your children. Don't be so busy babysitting adults that you leave your kid neglected. Maybe then pornography wouldn't be the least of your troubles.

05/05/05

For lack of better material at the moment (I'm working on it, I promise!), here's a letter I intend to send to The Vermilion for its first summer issue.

As a longtime contributor to The Vermilion (100 consecutive issues with this letter!), I have seen several editorships and layouts come and go. I’m not afraid to say that, at many points in the past few years, I was very unhappy with the quality of the paper. Fortunately, The Vermilion has rebounded well as of late, a trend that I hope will continue in the coming semesters. With that in mind, here are some issues that I hope you will address in making this into the best Wednesday newspaper in Lafayette:

1) Correcting careless spelling mistakes. Over the past year I’ve seen everything from the use of “parody” for “parity,” to the misspelling of “journalism.” How can any newspaper misspell “journalism?” You might as well misspell “newspaper” while you’re at it! Or “spell,” for that matter.

2) A cleaner format. A lot of The Vermilion looks as if it were cobbled together at the last minute. On the other hand, some of it looks really fine-tuned. Wouldn’t it be great to have the whole newspaper look as good as its best parts?

3) More consistent color. I know you need to have certain color page combinations to print some ads and comic strips correctly, but can’t you standardize that somehow?

4) If something offends a large bloc of the student body, such as the name “Handicap Diaries,” perhaps that name should be reconsidered. “We’ll finish with it because we started with it” is not the strongest argument.

5) Everyone involved with The Vermilion should have their name in the masthead. In my staff-writer days, seeing my name with all the others made me feel like an important member of a community. As it is, the space is larger than it used to be, and should now accommodate the names of all editors, writers, photographers, designers, businesspeople and circulation staff. People ask me all the time who does certain comic strip, for example; why not provide them with a complete list? It’s only fair.

6) Finally, do we REALLY need the “at Lafayette” attached to every single UL reference? Does anyone really think we’re talking about UL Monroe in The Vermilion? Those words add up on the page and really add nothing. But mainly, I object to it because it seems like an attempt to appease authority, which is something a student-run paper should never have to do.

I can’t wait to see how this newspaper evolves in the upcoming months. I am, and always will be, a fan of this publication. In time, I hope that The Vermilion becomes the kind of publication that presidents will hoist over their heads. And not because of headline errors like “Dewey defeats Truman,” but because The Vermilion is an information and entertainment source of which we can all be proud.

Ian McGibboney
UL graduate, 2002 and 2005

Caption Contest

"Turqi" edition


--Who knew turkeys were cannibals?
--"No, ah bought mah jacket at the local surplus store...why?"
--Dubya puts the "turd" in "turducken"
--Dubya shows the soldiers what he ate while his National Guard buddies were choking down K-rations back in 1972-73
--Sensibly looking toward the future, Dubya trains for his new job in 2009
--Actually, the troop is holding the tray...does Bush's photo-oppery know NO limits?
--Bush presents the first-ever "Horn of Plenty of Lip-Service"
--Is it me, or is Bush violating military-dress protocol with that blue shirt?
--"Let the eeeeeagle sooooooar!" Turkeys, on the other hand...
--Whether it's food or military decisions, at least Dubya's consistent
--Wait...so who's the real Butterball in this picture?
--The troop was thrilled that his turkey came with dip
--Because Bush's Army jacket was so bereft of honors, it had plenty of room for a food pyramid
--"The jacket? Ah jacked it!"
--"Hello sir! Would you like to try our new samples? You can buy them on aisle five!"
--This one-of-a-kind photo-op gave Bush the perfect premise for telling the troops what he always wanted to say: "Eat this turkey!"

MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAYDAY!

I guess it's time for those damn flowers?

Here's a fun fact to start off my favorite month of the year: The cry "mayday," meaning "I am an aviator or sailor and I could really use some help about now," originates from the French term "m'aidez," meaning "help moi!" (Source: MAXIM, June 2003, the Shania Twain issue.)

Yet another example proving what one of my English professors always said: "English is a whore."