Cherry picking

So, what did Wesley Clark ACTUALLY say before the House Armed Services Committee on U.S. Policy on Iraq? Well, if you read the Drudge report, you'll see cherry-picked out-of-context comments that those cute, cuddly demon-spawn 'Pubes like to use to damn people, as if those of us with a brain can't do our own research and form our own opinions. And see, if you want to damn someone, you can dissect what they say with glee and Frankenstein it into almost anything you want to serve your satan-sack-licking purposes. I prefer to know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, not merely what the media feeds me (liberal, conservative or otherwise).

But if you want to actually go to the source and read General Clark's testimony, as I am in the process of doing (it's 40 fucking pages long...gimme some time), then check it out. Hmmmmm. Ah, brain activity...feels sooooo good!

You think you're a Rat, but you're actually a Pig.

I will be suing every Chinese restaurant I ever ate at for the past 31 years that used those little Chinese zodiac placemats to lie to me my entire life.

You see, I was born in 1972, and according to those placemats, I'm a Rat. So, I've lived up to Rathood my whole life. I have tried to be an ideal Rat. I think I've done a pretty good job.

But you see, unbeknownst to me for these past 31 years, if you were born in January or February, you might fall into a different sign. Uh oh. February 12th is my birthday. So, with some trepidation, as if I already knew the answer, I put my birthdate into one of those online Chinese zodiac figure-outters and revealed that I am not, indeed, a Rat.

I am a Pig.

Imagine my dismay when I found my sign. And the utter bullshit with which I must now live up to. Pigs are nice to a fault? "Helping others is a true pleasure for the pig?" What? Hearts of gold and love of family? They refuse to see the negative qualities in a partner?

This is all sooooooooooooo not me. Just ask anyone, they'll tell you I'm a bitch.

So I think despite this horrible mix-up of astological signs, I'm going to maintain my illusion and stick with being a Rat. They're clever and quick-witted. We're loyal and charming. We push our own agendas. We need to realize there are other people in the world besides ourselves. That's all so me! Screw this Pig shit! I'm a Rat!

You can not make someone believe they are one thing in life, when they are, in fact, another, without some serious backlash! So, short of suing a large number of ill-will-deserving Chinese restaurants, I'm simply going to ignore the "finer" details of figuring out my sign and stick with what I was given since I could eat fried rice and read.

Rats unite, baby! Let's kick the crap out of those Pigs!

General Wesley Clark for President!

I've watched the last week of Democratic Party campaigns with some interest. Kerry won Iowa, Dean showed more emotion than the last 10 presidents combined (as he's lambasted for this? fuck the media...since when was it written that a President had to be a stoic bore?) and a couple of the "snow ball's chance in hell" candidates have yet to realize their snowballness.

I'm coming down on the side of General Wesley Clark. The more I see of this guy and the more I read about him, the more impressed I become. He doesn't feel like a politician to me, and that's definately a good thing, since most politicians leave a slimy residue behind. I hate the "lesser of two evils" choice offered up seemingly every presidential election. Is this the cost of democracy? A slightly less smarmy guy over the slightly more smarmy guy?

Clark is a decorated veteran. Uh, like, a General and shit! He opposes the war in Iraq. He has drawn clear lines on gay issues, gracing the cover of the gay mag The Advocate this month. He wants a full review of the Patriot Act. He's even got his tax returns from the last couple of years up on his site as part of his full disclosure stance on open government.

I like this guy...maybe there's hope yet for the Democratic Party.

I LOVE American Idol, but people, PLEASE!

American Idol is brutal. Just brutal.

No, not the judges, but the people who actually think they can sing.

Now, I know I can't sing, so you're not going to see my ass trying out for American Idol. But do all these people really lack the self-awareness to know they suck? And most of them don't look savvy enough to bogart their.00000015 seconds of fame by auditioning on national TV.

They don't say to themselves: "I'm going to get on TV by sucking HARD."

They say: "I'm the bomb, for shizzle nizzle, dizzle!"

Then some of them have the audacity to talk back when the Triad of Smack tell them they're horrible.

"Well, you don't know anything...I'm good! You guys are the ones that suck! I'm the best singer in the world!"

I'm still waiting for a fistfight to break out...now that would be entertainment!

Scooter Girl for president!

Have ya heard? We're goin' to SPAAAAAAACE!

Trillions in deficit. The jobless rate at an all-time high. 300,000 people have simply quit looking for work. American soldiers dying each day in Iraq. Still no Osama Bin Laden, WMD or anything resembling the truth coming out of the Scrub in D.C.

But golly gee, we's goin' ta space!

Thank god for that Mars rover sending back them boring ass pictures of the surface of the red planet, otherwise Bush might not have anything to bandwagon on this week and might have to think about some real issues.

But since building a base on the moon is far more important, than, say, Medicare, our attention is now turned upward, towards our orbiting satellite.

The report off the wires:

-- Bush, in space suit regalia, said: "We will send men to the moon again by 2015, gul-durnit, and have some of them drivey thingies to explore the moon." NASA scientists and engineers blinked and wondered just who the hell was going to pay for all of this crap.

Advised by his press team that, unlike his flight suit exploit, Bush never ACTUALLY was an astronaut, Bush responded with: "Well, I wasn't exactly really in the military either. Tee hee! Shush! Don't let on!"

Bush ended the speech by stating that space is "really, really cool." A Star Wars action figure clenched in each hand, Bush staged a mock kung fu fight between Han Solo and Greedo while making sound effects with his mouth.--

Spike says:

BANG.

Mars, still boring but somewhat useful. No, not really.

I found out that Mars is good for something: rally.

That sure is one piss-poor Photochop. Ah well...it's only freakin' Mars.

NEWS FLASH: Mars is really, really boring.

I don't know about y'all, but I can't get over how much money we spent to send a probe to Mars just to find out it is, indeed, boring as all hell.

Don't get me wrong. I'm amazed that this time we got the whole "feet vs. meters" thing correct and didn't crash the probe into the surface of the planet. But for this? Mars is dusty. Really dusty. And it's got rocks.

Woot.

We first saw black and white photos that showed the world that Mars is dusty and has a lot of rocks. Now we've got exciting photos that show the world that Mars is dusty and has a lot of rocks...

...BUT IN COLOR!

Shut up. SHUT UP! I'm way too excited to even think about anything else.

But onto a different subject: I am too stupid to successfully hook up my PS2 to my TV. I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong, but I do suspect I bought the wrong replacement wires. What I'm even more befuddled about is the fact that I somehow lost the original wires when I moved over a year ago. All I want to do is play GT3 and some Final Fantasy X.

But, in the unkindest cut, I have also lost my memory card. All my rides in GT3 are gone, gone, gone. No biggie if I can't actually play the game. I'm off to Circuit City right now to see if I can't find wires that'll work. I haven't played PS2 in 1 1/2 years but now it's critical that I get the system working successfully. Like right now. Go figure.

Michael Strahan, how 'bout them Cowboys?!

What's up with Cowboy fan in Houston? You freaking live in Houston. HOUSTON! Not Dall-ass. So why are all the Cowboy fans invading the bars like cockroaches whenever there's a Cowboy game on TV? It's pathetic. And you're not really cool, either. Every mopey Cowboy fan on Saturday night either shot us looks or the finger. Granted, we were heartily cheering for the Carolina Panthers. Not because we're Panther fans, but because THEY WEREN'T THE COWBOYS.

We've met all different types of fan. Denver fan. KC fan. Titan fan. Most if not all of them are x100000 cooler than Cowboy fan. They don't get all mad at YOU because their team doesn't win. WTF is that? Like it's MY fault that the Cowboys can't play against good defenses? I'm not on the freaking sideline calling plays or out on the field making tackles. And come to think of it, neither are you, mis-placed Cowboy fan, so put your panties back on and drink your damn beer without making such a fuss about a BAD team.

Oh, and lose the Emmitt Smith jersey. Let it go, Cowboy fan. He's gone. At least scrounge around your couch cushions when you roll back to your trailer park home for some loose change to buy a new jersey of a player that is still RELEVANT to football.

HOW 'BOUT THEM COWBOYS?!?!?!?!?!