June 2013 Archives


Perhaps Americans would care more if the NSA used the n-word once ten years ago.


Dear gays,

Now that you can marry—and you're welcome, please leave your thank yous in my guestbook—it's time for a little quid pro quo. We straights want something back.

You took the term gay. It used to mean very happy. When the Flinstones promised us a gay old time, it was nothing like the celebrations on Castro after the SCOTUS ruling last night. You took this word over and ruined it, but we still have happy and delightful, so I have bigger fish to fry.

The same is true with the rainbow symbol. It's yours now, at least until the day when Oreo actually makes those gay rainbow Oreos. Then it's on, skinny bitches. Don't get between a fat guy and that Oreo.

I think we can agree that I've given a little and am now entitled to get a little.

In short, I want the word queer back. It's an irreplaceable verb. "If you queer this deal for me, so help me..." Nothing works as well. In fact, I never stopped using the word as a verb, and I get glared at by people who suspect I just committed a hate crime.

I humbly request that you stop queering queer. It's the least you can do now that I've given up my special rights to marry.



I can't think of a single thing to write, unless you want to hear about my getting into shouting matches with septuagenarians at the grocery store.

Um. Do you?

things that make you reassess your life

Sarah Palin tweeted "Snowden is not the problem. The problem is the government violating our fourth amendment rights."

She could be quoting me.

(Brief consultation in a mirror)

The lobotomy scars aren't even visible. That's some darn nice work.

what i learned today

vomitus doesn't have two Os in it.

Context: work mail

heart of darkness

I'm popping into Redmond, WA today, and I'm dreading it. That's not odd. What's unusual is that I'm not going to Microsoft; I'm just seeing the new Superman movie. That's how much I hate being within Microsoft's event horizon. Even if its buildings are unseen, you can feel Microsoft sucking all soul and joy from your bone marrow from afar. Hell, thanks to a convergence zone, there's a semi-perpetual darkness to Redmond. You can see it as you approach main campus. Those dark clouds over there to the right? That's where Windows 8 was conceived.

happy father's day

Stank wishes you fathers a happy Fathers' Day. We hope you spent Sunday sleeping in and doing whatever you wanted to do. Just like before you had kids.

This joke shamelessly stolen from Julias Sharpe

the generous sexist

Don't you hate when you receive flowers at work and you can't find your pants? I know I do.

When I finally greeted Thursday afternoon's delivery, my sweatpants were on inside out and backwards, the tag gleaming like a belt buckle and pockets dangling tastefully to the sides.

"Are you John?" said the woman bearing flowers, a bit incredulously for my tastes.

I rummaged through the house for a tip, finally handing the woman $5. She was stunned.

"Wow, thank you!" She looked up. "No one ever thinks to tip."

"That's because you usually deliver to women," I snapped as I signed. Why did years of watching women not reach for checks choose that moment, of all moments, to bubble to the surface? I do not know. But I will never forget the contorted look on that delivery woman's face as she returned to her car, both grateful and offended.


Longtime readers know that I've long hated Seahawks coach Pete Carroll, way back to when he was rationalizing how his team was really a co-champion. You remember his team? His dirty USC team? The one stripped of titles and slapped with sanctions two seconds after he fled to Seattle? Yeah, that team.

golden-tate-packers-touchdown.jpgPete's continued to vomit self-serving nonsense in the pros. He remains the only person in the world who argues that Golden Tate really caught that ball in front of the replacement refs last year.

This offseason, Pete's players have been slapped five times for testing positive for performance enhancing drugs. It's an epidemic. And Pete is tackling it head-on and without equivocation. Compare his statement to that of his rival, 49er coach Jim Harbaugh.

"It has no place in an athlete's body. Play by the rules," Harbaugh told his players. "You always want to be above reproach, especially when you're good, because you don't want people to come back and say, 'They're winning because they're cheating.'"

Asked Tuesday about Harbaugh's mention of the Seahawks suspensions, Seattle coach Pete Carroll said: "We've kind of dealt with this to set into motion a really clear mindset to take care of business and treat this situation that is around the league very seriously. I don't know about commenting about anybody else's team, but as far as we're concerned we feel like we've addressed it directly."

Feel dazed yet filthy, don't you? Welcome to Pete Carroll.

This Atlantic article frames the NSA privacy snafu perfectly, swatting aside government claims of effectiveness as the irrelevancies they are.

heated tile floor in the bathroom

I don't mean to overstate things, but this is easily the best invention since the wheel. Yeah yeah, your feet are toasty. But the real pleasure is in throwing your clothes on the floor before putting them on. Dryer-warm, every time, and all it costs you is wearing whatever airborne fecal matter accumulates on your bathroom floor. So worth it.

the horn

My childhood friend Crawford and I were rummaging around a junkyard. A real junkyard, with precarious stacks of wrecked cars tossed casually about by a forklift operator we could only assume—hope, even—was blind drunk and furious with life.

"Holy shit!" Crawford said. "Holy shit holy shit holy shit." He had such a way with word.

I investigated and soon was equally overjoyed. There in his hands, his gloriously grubby, stupid, evil hands, was a diesel truck horn. That we would take it home was a certainty. But how to install it, and in whose car?

"I really don't see that being much of an issue," he said, removing key components from his engine to make space for a giant old fire extinguisher we would use as an air source. And thus did we engineer what only teenage boys could engineer: a ridiculously loud car horn that one activated by pulling on a rope inside the car and deactivated by letting it finally run out of air 60 seconds later.

• • •

Many years afterward, Crawford was a teacher in a small Ohio farming town, the type of town that has 20 kids in its high school marching band, four of them pregnant. I was visiting, he was in meetings, and for whatever reason I was driving his car. Yes, the same car.


Some idiot was weaving and driving slowly, and I was more than delighted to reach for the rope. The eruption of the horn was so loud, you felt the concussion hit your chest. As cars lunged out of the way in the little downtown area, I noted that everyone within sight was intensively admiring our engineering. A half mile later, the horn finally fell silent.

When I picked up Crawford a half hour later, he'd already heard about the incident. His boss had given him the standard issue Ohio-hick-town-when-your-dick-friend-drives-your-car-he's-representing-the-entire-school speech. Surely you know it.

needs a basketball hoop

Surfing Google Earth last night, I came upon the home of quite possibly the coolest person on the planet.


moron taxonomy
stupid church signs
super bowl xl officiating
percy chronicles

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