Welcome to the Realm™ - Version 5.0...
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Guys, I am down right now. AT&T UVerse has decided, in its infinite lack of wisdom, to go belly up on me. Updates, therefore, are on hold until further notice.

That is all. Carry-on.

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Denizens, I have come to a decision regarding This Fine Blog™, and will be announcing it sometime within the next few days.

Watch this space.

ThatIsAll™.

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Some dumbshits just do not know when to take a fucking hint.

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Even before I ripped on Michelle “Malicious” Malkin for her hypocritical photoshop of Rick Perry over GAAAAAARRRRRRRRDDDDDIIIIIIISSSSSSIIIIIIILLLLLLLL – right after she bitched about Spewsweek’s  Tina Brown performing her own “stupid photo trick” (Malicious’ words, not mine) against her honeygirl, Michele Bachmann – there was always something about her that rubbed me the wrong way.  A hunch, if you will.

Well, now I know why:  Malicious Malkin is a fucking stoner.

It’s 9 a.m. on a weekday, and I’m at the Marisol Therapeutics pot shop. This is serious business. Security is tight. ID checks are frequent. Merchandise is strictly regulated, labeled, wrapped and controlled. The store is clean, bright and safe. The staffers are courteous and professional. Customers of all ages are here.

There’s a middle-aged woman at the counter nearby who could be your school librarian. On the opposite end of the dispensary, a slender young soldier in a wheelchair with close-cropped hair, dressed in his fatigues, consults with a clerk. There’s a gregarious cowboy and an inquisitive pair of baby boomers looking at edibles. A dude in a hoodie walks in with his backpack.

And then there’s my husband and me.

[...]

Our stash included 10 pre-rolled joints, a “vape pen” and two containers of cheddar cheese-flavored marijuana crackers (they were out of brownies). So far, just one cracker a day is yielding health benefits. Carole [her mother-in-law  - DV] is eating better than she has in three months. For us, there’s no greater joy than sharing the simple pleasure of gathering in the kitchen for a meal, with Grandma Carole at the head of the table.

I don’t give a flying fuck at a rolling donut hole, quite honestly, if she does  claim it’s “medical”. They make THC in pill format.  Her MIL could go the pill route and get the same benefit.

But no.  That’s not good enough for the special snowflake Malicious Malkin. Gotta be the joint, don’tcha know. 1ooo/ (Pretend that’s my left hand.)

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t want to see anyone, not the least of whom is Malicious Malkin’s mommy-in-law, suffer needlessly.  But there are other ways to treat “Grandma Carole’s” condition, better ways, and a joint ain’t one of ‘em.

But that’s Malicious Malkin for you.  It’s all about her and her support for pot, both “medicinal” and recreational, to hell with what’s right or proper.

(Or legal, for that matter.  Don’t forget, pot’s still a federal no-no, never mind what the Ayatollah Choomster thinks.)

Just like how she whined about Tina Brown, but felt perfectly justified when it’s her slandering Rick Perry.

Fuck off, Malicious, you effing stoner.

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As you may or may not have guessed, Denizens, the PFW is done for the year.  I’ve run out of ways to say that my teams suck.

In addition, the annual Fall Vacation Countdown™ isn’t going to be posted until maybe  tomorrow.  If then.

I know I tease, drop hints, etc, about hanging it up every now & again.  This time, though, it’s a major case of burnout.  I’ve been doing this now for over ten years, and I’m tired.  There are only so many ways you can say Bambi & the Demoscum are fucking cowards, only so many ways you can dare them to grow a set and come go mano a mano.  And when they don’t (see “Chickenshit, Mykki), what else is there?

So it’s a “sorta kinda” hiatus for Yours Truly™ for a little bit.  (Not that I’ve been writing all that much before, but still.)  I’ll come back when I fucking well feel like it.

When that might be…who the hell knows?

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I lied.

There won’t be a Perfect Football Weekend column this week, after all. There just isn’t time.

And that’s getting to be a major problem around here.  Remember how I’ve groused in the past about This Fine Blog™ going the route of the original BBS?  Never having time to maintain it and such?

That’s getting to be the case, writ extra-large, these days.  I can’t give this endeavor the time it deserves at this point, and I’m honestly wondering if I want things to continue that way going into 2014.

(For the One Or Two Of You That Still Care About This Blog™, yes – that’s an indication that I may be ready to put SCBBS back on the shelf for the time being.)

Watch this space.

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[SCENE:  On the near-powerless bridge of ISS VengeanceAdmiral Darth Venomous and General Korrioth are overseeing a minor refit of the communications module.  Chief Engineer Ozymandias McCool carries a solid-state console module in his arms, awaiting instruction from Venomous.]

VENOMOUS:  Anytime you’re ready, McCool.

OZY McCOOL:  Aye, sir.

[McCool slides the module into the empty slot.  Power comes to life on the bridge - for about two seconds.

Massive sparkage flies from the just-installed module, sending all three diving for cover.  (Well, Korrioth & McCool, anyway.  Venomous merely turns away with a disgusted look on his face.)

Venomous turns & glares at McCool.]

OZY McCOOL (looking very  nervous at the moment):  As I suspected, m’lord.  Major flaw in the J2 circuit.

VENOMOUS:  Fine.  And in whose head is Kor going to sink his bat’leth this  time?

OZY McCOOL:  Personally, I’d start with the union writers.  They’ve got all manner of plot devices up their sleeves, and they’ve had it in for you ever since you beheaded Allan.

KORRIOTH:  Point.

VENOMOUS (chuckling):  Mheh.  That’s what I like about you guys – no foolin’ around, cut to the chase.  Okay, Kor, see to it.

KORRIOTH:  (grunt)

Okay, we’re officially back online here, and all it cost me was my primary keyboard.  Fry’s will be furnishing me a replacement shortly.

In the meantime, we’ll catch up on the Perfect Football Weekend™ beginning tonight – Heights will play its annual one-and-done playoff game this evening, and I’ve some thoughts on Incognito-Juanita Martin (and no – that’s not a typo.)

Oh…and anyone who even dares breathe  the number “51″ dies.  You have been warned.

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Read this.

That’s an order.

ThatIsAll™.

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Denizens, your homework assignment for tonight is to go read this excellent fisking by the good Emperor.

Damn, I wish I could write like that…

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Oh, dear.  They’re getting downright un-comity-like over at Gay Patriot again.

Look, I know that life is not easy. And we each face our own challenges. Sometimes in the face of frustration as we struggle with setbacks, we need, well, we feel that we need to vent. A lot of people seem to do that in the political sphere, projecting their personal demons onto their ideological adversaries.

And since we don’t usually see those adversaries’ faces, we don’t always appreciate their humanity. If if we disagree with someone else’s politics, even if he (or she) makes (what we perceive to be) a lame argument, he remains a human being, facings challenges and suffering setbacks just as we do. Bear that in mind each time you read a comment you find outrageous.

Critique what that person said. Don’t speculate about his private life.

Oh, really?  But…but…but I thought your private  lives were all that defined you.  That, and making sure we all  knew everything  about you and how you liked to get your rocks off.

I mean, what’s the point of being a bunch of flaming heterophobes if you can’t be fucking PUBLIC  about it, hm???

But all that’s not the main purpose of this post.  Down later on in the comments, I found this.

And it can’t go unanswered.

Thank you for the reminder and also sorry it was necessary. It’s saddening that so many “adults” refuse to do the necessary emotional growth to deal with their FEAR better. And yes, anyone who I saw in previous threads systematically going after others with personal attacks are SCARED whether they want to admit it or not. I will repeat it again! Those people are reacting out of PURE, RAW FEAR!! Trust me, I’m far from calm and collected and I find myself on the verge of panic some days over what is happening in this country.

And while I don’t want to, I’ll psychoanalyze certain people as needed because trust me I’ve been there. The only humble advice I can give is start with yourself. Be honest about yourself, whether it’s your identity, what your core beliefs and how much of them are overly motivated by FEAR and PANIC and stop being SO AFRAID to be yourself and maybe you’ll find you won’t need to be so reactive and on a hair spring trigger to jump over certain people’s views.

Comment by PopArt

Okay, PopTart, let’s get one thing straight: I don’t FEAR a whole helluva lot – and I sure as hell  don’t fear you or your fellow faggots.

What you and your fellow limp-wrists call “homophobia”, us normal people call “abject disgust”.  (And yes, to borrow from a notorious El Aurian scientist, normal  is what everyone else is, and you  are not.)

But if you think we FEAR you…think again, Skippy.

I understand and respect why those of you who value Christian beliefs and the family unit are concerned about same-sex marriage advocates. All I can say is you NEED to do more than just wholesale condemn all of us who happen to be gay.

Then you neither understand nor respect us, PopTart.  Not in the ever-lovin’ slightest.

It is not we that condemn you, son.  It’s God’s holy Word.  I mean, what exactly is it about “You shall not sleep with a man as with a woman; it is an abomination” do you heterophobic  idiots (see what I did there?) not understand?

My own relationship with God was being HONEST about how I was created and God doesn’t make mistakes.

Well, you’re half-right.  (Guess that kinda comes with being a half-wit, doesn’t it?)

In the first place, you’re not  “being HONEST about how [you were] created”.  You were, and are, created to be attracted to the opposite sex.  No ifs, ands or buts about it.

Should you care to disagree, you will have to prove it:  Show me the DNA sequence that absolutely, 100% without fail, determines your so-called “sexual orientation”.  It will have to be true of every single person who carries this as-yet-unidentified DNA sequence that, should a person possess it, that person is an avowed homosexual.

And I trust you realize, PopTart – if identical twins possess thet specific sequence, and one is not  “gay” (yes, the sneer quotes are deliberate)…then your “born that way” theory is blown to shit.

But what the hell, y’know?  Y’all made the claim of being “born that way”…y’all get to prove it.

However, you are right about one thing:  God does not make mistakes.

You know what that means…don’tcha, Sparky?  You’re  the one who screwed up, dumbass.

We can find common ground and discuss this maturely.

No…no, we can’t.  Not as long as you & your ilk call us “breeders” and “haters” and “bigots” and “homophobes”.  Not as long as you try to co-opt our  institution, as God gave it to us.

And certainly  not as long as you assholes keep accusing us of having “FEAR and PANIC” when it comes to you effeminiates.

While I would avail myself of marriage, really all I ask is that you not threaten to reign down the government on me and stop me from building a life for myself with a loving partner.

You can call it “marriage” all you want…even unto turning blue in the face (and believe me, some of us would appreciate you doing just that…and more) – but it never has been “marriage”, isn’t now, and never will be, no matter how much you screech about it.

You can whine, and snivel, and squeam and play crybaby all you want, in a pathetic attempt to get us to say that what you do is “okay”.  But as long as I have breath, there will be at least one person on Planet Earth that says, “No, what you do is not  okay, and I oppose it with all my being”.

And I don’t give a shit whether you like that or not, PopTart.

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Realm™ Headquarters to Southern Command – come in, please.

Southern Command, do you copy?

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Given my workload and schedule nowadays, it’s looking more and more like this is going to become a weekend blog.

If that.

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[SCENE:  Still in the F’book NexusLord Darth Venomous is still on a rampage – only now, instead of bodies being dropped via Force-choke, only heads & various limbs are falling, the result of being severed by a whirling dervish of a purple lightsaber.

The blazing blade has come to rest mere inches from the last surviving soul in the vicinity – a Klingon who, ironically, bears a striking resemblence to former shipyardmaster Commander K’tinghe.

A fact that is not lost on His Rudeness.]

VENOMOUS (pointing blade at K’tinghe):  I should’ve known you were involved in this, you vile p’tahk!  How many limbs do you want to lose before I take your head?!?!?!

K’TINGHE (terrified):  M’lord…please…please, m’lord, I—

VENOMOUSYOU ARE GOING TO FIX MY SHIP SUCH THAT IT DOES NOT BREAK AGAIN, OR I WILL LAY WASTE TO THIS ENVIRONMENT AND YOU AND YOUR ENTIRE HOUSE WITH IT, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!?!?!?!

K’TINGHE (terrified):  (ulp!) Uh, I—

VENOMOUS:  Nexus!!!  Transport me, this Klingon bastard, and the best ship’s computer system you have back to Pegasus!!!  DO IT NOW!!!!!

[A bright light appears and expands to engulf both His Rudeness and K’Tinghe.  As it fills the screen, we cut to…

SCENE:  The bridge of Pegasus  Lieutenant Commander Ozymandias McCool is briefing General Korrioth on repairs to the ship.]

OZY McCOOL:  Not the best news, General. Probably another week or so to bring the main core online. Has anyone notified the Admiral yet?

[At that precise moment, the bridge doors part, and in walks Venomous, with K'Tinghe in tow.]

VENOMOUS:  Ozy, I believe you’ll find the answer to all our difficulties in the main cargo bay.

[Ozy & Korrioth gape wide-eyed at the Klingon, who had previously been thought to have suffered Venomous' purple blade.  Korrioth, as usual, regains his composure first.]

KORRIOTH (nodding):  Very well, Admiral.  Come along, Ozy.  [They proceed out.]

VENOMOUS (grabbing K’Tinghe by his familial sash):  Now, you effin’ coward, we’re gonna go help them – and then  you get to beg for your life again like you did last time…!!! [He drags the frightened Klingon off the bridge towards Engineering.]

Okay, guys, the Big Box™ is back up and running – a 3.6 non-name-brand system board running Ubuntu 10.04.4 64-bit (and the requisite Win7 virtual machine for employing Outlook) with 16 gigs of RAM (and a brand new 2TB drive) out of Mrs. Venomous’ old Acer case.  (The old Big Box™ and its eight gigs have been redeployed as the work machine.)

We’ll see how long this lasts.  It had better (casts a menacing look towards K’Tinghe)…

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Today, 1/23/13, is the tenth anniversary of what is one of my favorite blog posts ever – so much so that I actually saved it to file.  (Good thing, too – apparently, it’s no longer on the ‘Net.)

It was written by Stephen the Doggerel Pundit, and it’s below the fold for your perusal & enjoyment.

Here’s to Joanne!

Weep with us now for poor Mary O’Leary-
O’Dell-Hammond-Hargraves-Armbruster-Bevàn,
A victim of Seventies sur-naming theory
(The hyphening one), and her daughter Joanne.

The Feminist Movement decided this notion
Was surely the tonic to raise self esteem.
Invoking progenitor names is the potion,
And surely the faultiest sur-naming scheme.

(To cite an example; they can’t get a license,
A 401k or SS supplementary,
Or make application for credit card buys since
All database fields have their limits on entry).

Now, boosting self-worth with a moniker weary?
Nay, let her be known! Let her live with élan!
Not fake self-esteem from a tag like O’Leary-
O’Dell-Hammond-Hargraves-Armbruster-Bevàn.

Of all the solutions since offered by Sages,
The best for a daughter? Mom’s name only showing,
So millions of women live down through the ages
Their whole matrilineal history knowing.

Joanne is a seeker of character flawless,
To raise up her life, stand alone, and she can;
Not caring of names, she’s engaged to young Wallace,
Smith-Hollis-Gomez y Gonzalez—oy, man.

When wedding bells ring our conventions will call us
In toasting her day with raised glasses in hand:
“Ms. Wallace Smith-Hollis-Gomez y Gonzales
O’Leary-O’—hell with it! Here’s to Joanne!!”

Still gets a chuckle out of me, even ten years later.

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[SCENE:  Realm™ spacedock.  Previously ready to resume her travels, ISS Pegasus  floats, adrift (save for the artificial moorings securing her), mostly powerless.

Cut to the bridge, where General Korrioth busies himself attempting to fix the latest computer crash.  In walks engineer Ozymandias McCool with padd in hand.]

KORRIOTH:  Ah, there you are, McCool.  Report, please.

[McCool is rather taken aback - he's not used to this cordiality from the Klingon-Vulcan hybrid - but does an admirable job of recovery.]

OZY McCOOL:  Not the best news, General.  Probably another week or so to bring the main core online.  Has anyone notified the Admiral yet?

KORRIOTH (grinning wolfishly):  Oh, he knows, Commander.  He knows…

[Cut to SCENE:  Inside the Facebook energy ribbon from the original “Death” series.  From an empty view, two humans, a Klingon, a Romulan and several Bynars & Jawas crash to the floor, lifeless.

Pan the camera to a hooded figure, both arms outstreched, both hands making a Force-choke gesture.

The figure slowly moves his hands to his hood and removes it, revealing Lord Darth Venomous, whose agitated countenance includes a pair of dazzlingly bright purple eyes.]

VENOMOUS:  Does anybody else  want to try and say it’s not their fault?!?!?!

Okay, guys, the Big Box™ is down again – and yes, it’s because the 2TB (that’s “terabyte” to you in the Church of the SubTarded™) has crashed once again.

PFW benediction on hold until further notice – but be advised that I’m invoking Executive Fiat™ one last time.  (For details, just look below the banner.)

ThatIsAll™.

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This blog is best viewed with your eyes. 
It helps, though, if you have Microsoft Internet Explorer  set about 1024x768 1280x1024 with your Favorites window activated on the left deactivated.  (At least until I can get a better handle on how WordPress works.)

(KORRIOTH:  Oh, great.  More wormholes.)

Mozilla Firefox doesn't do too badly, either; in fact, it's His Rudeness' browser of choice.
You can  use Nutscrape,  if you so desire - but why in blazes would you want to use a browser from a company that had to hide behind Janet El Reño's skirt to be successful?

And don't even  get me started on Opera or Chrome.  I'm not about  to trust any browser that won't let me change its color scheme.
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