Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls

Don't go chasing waterfalls
Please stick to the rivers and lakes that
You're used to
I know that you're gonna have it your way
Or nothing at all
But I think you're moving too fast

Just when you think it's safe to go back in the water, crap like this happens.

New York City has just installed a series of fugart ("f-ugly art") displays in our waterways, a set of faux waterfalls that are supposed to enhance the look of the rivers around the island. Personally I think they look cheesy with all that scaffolding, and for $15million bucks you'd think they could have added some stone stucco so it looked better - but hey, what do I know?

Anyways. As with all things remotely dangerous, there will be some fool who will think he knows better than others, and will do something stupendously idiotic and endanger himself and possibly others.

Case in point: novice kayakers, who were determined to get an up-close and personal view of the falls.

As the story goes, an experienced kayaker and his two assistants were taking out a group of 24 newbs into the river, as part of a fund-raising event for their paddlehouse. They'd swing around the harbor, take a look at the waterfalls from a nice safe distance, then head back for home.

Thing were going swimmingly, until a pair of dipshits decided to venture out on their own.

Two of the kayakers, in one boat, capsized after straying too close to a waterfall erected by the Danish-Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson under the Brooklyn Bridge, the police said. The two, Bert Rosenblatt, 36, and Vladimir Spector, 37, were rescued by a police boat and taken to a hospital, and released shortly after with no injuries, the police said.

Their guide, Mr. Baard said the men had been “goofing around,” and got too close to the fall as they tried to take pictures.

Before the group had taken off, everyone had been given instructions repeatedly about what to do should their kayak flip over or drift into trouble.

Rule 1, clutch your paddles, they were told. The men let them go.
Rule 2, hold onto your kayak. Instead they let it drift away, and clung to the buoys and containment barriers that were meant to cordon off the waterfall.

If the men had followed their instructions, Mr. Baard said, they would have drifted to a calmer part of the river, where they easily could have gotten back into their kayak.

“I don’t know if they were afraid or what,” he said. “One issue was that they didn’t know us very well, so they didn’t have an immediate trust of our judgment, which would have helped. But they didn’t listen to what we asked them to do, and so at that point I tried to let the police take over.”

Now here's the visual I really love:

When the officers arrived at the scene, they found Mr. Baard pleading with one of the men, who were both wearing life vests, to let go of the barrier, but to no avail. Eventually, the police ordered him to let go, and the man complied.

You have to admit, that had to have been funny. Everyone yelling at this guy to let go, and him whimpering "nononononononononono...."

"I wanted to get a closer look at the waterfalls, and then it sucked us in," said Vladimer Spector, 37, one of the two men plucked from the East River by the NYPD Harbor Patrol.

Despite the scare, police said there was no risk of actually being pulled into the falls' suction system. Cops tested the system with dummies that were not sucked in.

As opposed, apparently, to the two dummies who nearly did.


http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/12/nyregion/12capsize.html?partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

Jesus: Messiah, Wizard, Vampire, or Zombie?

I'm absolutely, positively, going to Hell. First class, express line only. I'm fully comfortable with that fact, before you start calling down the fire and brimstone on me. So nyeh-nyeh.

With that now out of the way...I struggle with the concept of the last days of Christ. I respect that in this giant cult based on his name, he is revered as a Son of God, as the living embodiment of the creator here on Earth, as the Prince of Peace and the Shepherd. He died for our sins, which incidently to mean should mean we all get a free pass, but hey I didn't make up the rules so don't get angry this way.

But.

Come on, really now; the man forced his followers to eat his flesh, drink his blood. He died, then crawled his way out of a grave to live again.

I don't know about you folks, and how strong-willed and resolute you are. But if i buried my friend, and while visiting his grave a few days later discovered it open, I'm going to consider a few options:
1) check the local medical schools for new cadaver arrivals, because some entrepenuring student is making a killing off graverobbing;
2) make sure my stock of garlic, blessed crosses and holy water is up to date;
3) keep the shotgun and axe handy, and start practicing head shots with the old .32

I am, however, very unlikely to bow down to my knees and cry tears of joy, because my friend was resurrected and has ascended to a higher being.

Do I lie? Take the holiest, kindest, sweetest person you know. And yes, I'll happily use Mother Theresa as an example. If she stepped out of her grave tomorrow morning, rubbing her eyes like she just woke up from a long nap...

...you'd plug her full of ammo, grab a hatchet and start swinging for her neck. Because you know damn well she's a goddamn zombie, and its either kill the beast or stick a straw in your ear and let her suck away at your brains.

Now, let's talk about the WTF-moment we all know as the Last Supper.

Let's say...you have a friend. You love this friend, he's the greatest dude, ever. You're so smitten with him, you're practically gay for him. But he's sick, and not long for this world, so he gathers up you and his other really tight bros, and holds a dinner party.

You're all drinking, laughing, having a good time, and in the middle of this dinner he gets up to start a speech. Let's gloss over the "one'a you bastiches is gonna rat me out" part of this, because then the follow up would involve him around a table with a baseball bat, and we've all seen how that movie ends up.

No, we'll stick to this part of the speech where he holds up the bread, breaks it apart, passes it out and says "Take, eat, this is my flesh."

Hold the fuck up. What?!

Seriously, would you eat the bread? Or would you be sitting there, open mouthed, staring at everyone else to see who's gonna stuff in down their gullets first? There ain't that much love in the whole goddamn world, that I'm gonna look down at my plate and be told it's someone's flesh, and I need to eat it.

But for the sake of argument, let's assume you laughed it off. "That Jesus, he's always cracking jokes." Ate the bread, chuckling.

Then he holds up the cup, pours you all a glass, and says "Drink it all, this is my blood."

Now. Really. Just a few weeks ago, I'd seen this fucker turn a whole well of tap water into Cabernet Sauvignon and loaves of bread into bouillabaisse, so now I'm looking at this cup of dark red, thick liquid and thinking: You Know, I'm Really Not That Thirsty, Thanks.

And yes, my stomach by this point would be doing flip-flops as I starting thinking harder about that bread-into-fishflesh, and wondering if the dinner roll I just ate just looked like a toe, or if it was my imagination.

So I don't know about you, but next Easter I won't be answering any doors at night. Cuz it could be Jesus knocking. And he might be hungry.

Garlic knot, anyone?

Maybe She Just Laid There Like A Corpse

Reversing lower court judges who said Wisconsin criminal law doesn't prohibit necrophilia, the state supreme court held today that rape law bans sex with dead bodies.

Because rape law prohibits sex with an unconsenting victim, "a reasonably well-informed person would understand the statute to prohibit sexual intercourse with a dead person," writes Justice Patience Drake Roggensack in the 5-2 majority opinion (PDF).

Two dissenting justices said the law was intended not to ban necrophilia but to permit rape charges when the victim was also murdered, according to the Associated Press.

The case arose from an alleged attempt by three young men carrying shovels, a crowbar and condoms to dig up a corpse in a Wisconsin cemetery in 2006 after one saw an obituary photo of an attractive 20-year-old woman who had been killed in a motorcycle accident a week earlier. Although they reportedly couldn't get into the concrete vault in which she was buried, they were charged with attempted sexual assault and theft after a police officer responded to a report of a suspicious vehicle in the Cassville cemetery.

...okay. Stop. Stop right there.

Originally I saw this article, and was going to write a whole thing about the oddities of local laws and their interpretations...then I got to the description of the crime.

These guys...in Wisconsin...saw the PHOTO of the girl who died. In a motorcycle accident. A week earlier.

And decided, "wow...I gotta get me some of that!"

I'm speechless. Dumbfounded, even. I mean, I have to see this picture - because on a scale of 1 to 10, i'm assuming this girl blows all others off the charts with her hotness factor. That's the only reasonable explanation for why three guys - and I'm going to assume they weren't sober, I mean this IS Wisconsin - why these three guys were suddenly SO taken with her beauty, they figured this:

That her dead, rotting corpse was still hotter than any chick in the town.

For the record, at least they were going to practice SAFE illegal sex.

iShake it Like A Polaroid Picture

I'm on record as being a member of the AntiApple Squad, wishing the blue screen of death on all infidels. Or is that iInfidels? Whatever. The point is, it should come as no surprise that I am completely baffled by the appeal of this shake ability with the iPhone.

What'choo talkin' about Willis? Well, assuming you haven't been living under the proverbial rock, some features within certain applications on the phone allow/require you to physically shake your phone. Yes, that's shaken, not stirred, Mr. Bond.

For example, there's an application that will locate your position via GPS, then find you the nearest restaurants. Nice, huh? Well, folks, there's more. With this baby, you can have the phone randomly select the restaurant from the list of local eateries.

By shaking your phone.

It's like a slot machine; you sit and watch the list whiz by, slowing crawling to a stop. Okay Vanna, let's show these good people what they've won!

There's another application that will allow you to roll dice on the screen. By shaking it back and forth, and then watching the 3D dice bounce around the 2D screen (which, really then, makes it 2D doesn't it?) and roll to a stop. iCraps, anyone?

And of course, there's the inevitable take on the "naughty pen" - an image of a woman in a bikini, and if you shake the phone hard enough she starts to lose her clothing. And apparently her sense of self-worth.

Maybe I'm just the retarded one, and if so I fully accept the responsibilities that title comes with - but do I really want to shake this $300 piece of technology to get it to work? I mean, sure I do that at work with my computer screen - "Goddamnit you piece of crap, load...!" (slap slap), but am I really expecting that to DO something?

No, it's anger management.

I'm picturing a whole new generation of phone users, iPeople strolling down the block, shaking their wrists like they're choking the iLife out of their iPhones, literally squeezing information out of it. Was Homer Simpon prescient? "Why you little...!"

I can see the lawsuits now. Will we get a new round of carpal tunnel syndrome, from people hurting their wrists trying to find their way home? How about the ones with sweaty palms, the same Wii-mote users who hurled those innocuous white controllers smack into the middle of their $4500 plasma television screens? Will the ground be littered with the parts of broken iPhones (iLitter?) because of all the slippery palms dropping the delicate devices to the unforgiving concrete?

Perhaps parents can now start disciplining their kids in public again; we can call it the iDefense. "Your honor, I was trying to find out where the little monster flushed my keys to...shaking works to get info out of my phone, I figured it would work on my kid too!"


iInsane, iI know. But anything is iPossible.

For a Shine That's Jiggaboo Bright!

I was cruising the cable channels recently, bored one late night but not wanting to fall asleep, when I stumbled across this film title in the index: The Confederate States of America.

Well...there's no way I could possibly ignore this, could I?

Apparently the film is a mockumentary, a history of events leading up from the early days of the civil war until modern times - today. So what's the catch? The documentary - done in a typical History Channel, Discover Network style - treats the history of the world as if the South had WON the American Civil War, and gone on to conquer the North.

Now I expected an interesting thesis on how life would be different, attitudes completely changed to reflect less of a Black American influence, certainly. What I did not expect was to find myself immersed in a world where the Klan and Aryan Nation would feel right at home, where slavery still exists and where America silently supported Hitler's reign.

That, all on it's own, would have been a bit of a culture shock, but one I could deal with seeing; I'm objective enough for that, certainly. What I was completely unprepared for was the language used in the film - fictionally historically accurate to do, certainly, but it was disturbing on a deep emotional level.

What am I talking about? During the course of watching this film, I found myself flinching at hearing: jiggaboo, buck, pick-a-ninny, coon, mammy, sambo, nigger, darky...I saw white men in blackface, cartoons showing blacks with big red lips and ape-like faces...

It was shocking, but shocking in a fantastically amusing way. I was torn between being offended and being amused, which I think was the producers particular point.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about it; just the opposite. I think every black youth today should watch this film, because I honestly don't believe they have any idea what life may have been like for our slave ancestors, and I do think it's important that they don't forget what their forebears went through in order that they can enjoy their Xbox, BET and Nike shoes.

Now its summer

Mmm-mmmm!

Black Gold

So someone tried to jack me this week.

More specifically, they tried to jack my gas.

Seriously, I thought stuff like only happened on the mountain roads of Guatemala, or in the Florida Everglades. When you think of people sticking hoses into gas tanks and siphoning fuel into a bucket, it brings up imagery of some moonshine era long ago.

Not 2008, Manhattan.

Here I was, all set early in the morning to head up to the lake, drop my kayak and get in some paddling before the weekend crowd starting invading. I had just over a quarter tank of gas and probably could have made it there and back without filling up, but i figured why take the chance? I stopped at a gas station which happened to be full service - and the guy tells me my gas cap was missing.

WTF?

I shrug; it's a gas cap, I can replace that easily enough. He tries to fill the tank, but after another quarter fill the nozzle is snapping like the tank is full. I'm looking at my guage, it's obviously at a half-tank.

Again. WTF?

So now I'm thinking, something's screwy here. It's 7:30 in the morning, I decide it'll be better if i stick around and talk to the mechanic when he comes in at 8. He's a little late, but that's fine. He takes a look, decides he can't really figure out what's going on unless they drop the tank and look inside. For that, he needs his crew - who come in at 9.

Wonnnnnnnderful.

They show, they pull the tank, and figure that someone busted the tank assembly inside while trying to force a hose down it. They've got to get the replacement parts, and get me a new cap - this time with a lock on it.

By the time all is said and done, it's after 11am and I'm just too tired and annoyed. Between labor, parts and gas I've spent over $200, gotten nothing I had planned accomplished, and pretty much wasted my morning.

And why? Because someone decided gas was so expensive, they needed to siphon off some of mine.

I swear, I'm going to set up cameras somewhere just so I can catch one of these morons. I'll spend the $50 it'll cost just to douse his arse in gasoline, and roast marshmallows on him after I light his butt up.

It just sucks, realizing that the gas in my tank was worth more to someone than trying to actually steal the truck.

Welcome to America, 2008.

But does she do windows?

ROME (Reuters) - An Italian man was arrested on suspicion of kidnapping his ex-girlfriend from a pub, taking her home and forcing her to iron his clothes and wash the dishes, police said Monday.

The 43-year-old man dragged the woman out of a pub in the port city of Genoa, shoved her into a car and took her to his home where he made her iron and wash dishes after threatening her, they said.

Police arrived at his house after being tipped off by a friend of the woman who watched the scene at the pub.

The man, who was apparently furious at his ex-girlfriend for leaving him, was arrested on charges of kidnapping, police said.

Personally, I think he just really, really needed his laundry done.

A Coke & A Siam

Went down to the vending machine in the office, popped in my 75 centavos and what pops out? Imported strange soda. Turns out Coca-Cola is advertising for the upcoming Beijing Games by selling cans in other languages.

Just as long as they don't fill it with that green jelly drink (nam quiew?), I'm okay with that.

Don't...

...hate. Appreciate.

Hot day

...had to take a break. Frozen drinks @ BBQ's, nice way to cool off.

Can't talk now...

...eating. *smack* mm-mmm!

Iron Men

I don't want to take anything away from Oscar Pistorius. I think he's an inspiration to amputees - and really anyone trying to overcome a disability - everywhere.

But I'm not certain how I feel about his participation in professional sports.

For those of you not in the here and now, Pistorius is making history by becoming the first double-amputee allowed to compete and qualify for the upcoming Beijing Olympics in track. Understand, we're not talking about the Special Olympics - this is the real deal, racing against full-bodied athletes.

So how is this double-amputee able to achieve this? He's using specially designed prosthetic legs, which allow him to compete on a level with other athletes.

Oscar was originally banned from using his prosthetics, based on an Olympic rule which prohibits the use of technical aids by athletes.

However, in appealing the ruling (which, incidently, the law firm I work for handled) he won his case and the ruling was overturned, clearing the way for him to work towards his Olympic dreams.

Now understand - I'm not against him competing, and I think it's admirable that he's overcome his handicap to an extent that he's capable of competing at Olympic levels; it's fascinating, from a purely scientific view, and heroic.

It's reminsicent of a former Major League Baseball player, Jim Abbott - born without a right hand, he learned to pitch lefty and taught himself how to switch his glove quickly from his stump to his left arm, making himself into a capable fielder. He won a gold medal on the US Olympic Team in 1988, and as a New York Yankee, Abbott pitched a no-hitter against the Cleveland Indians in 1993.

But he did it all with skill, not attachments or prosthetics.

The Cheetah® Flex-Foot is a J-shaped, high performance carbon composite prosthetic sprinting foot, designed to store and release energy in order to mimic the reaction of the anatomical foot/ankle joint of able bodied runners. From the manufacturer's own website:

The shape, which somewhat resembles the hind quarter of a Cheetah - hence the name - acts like a spring and shock absorber. The "J" curve is compressed at impact, storing energy as well as absorbing high levels of stress that would otherwise be absorbed by the user’s knee, hip, and lower back. At toe-off, the "J" returns back to its original shape, releasing a percentage of the stored energy and propelling the user forward.

The foot is designed to have more layers of carbon at higher stress points, such as the apex of the "J" curve, and less carbon where more flexibility is needed, such as the toe portion. Importantly, the Cheetah Flex-Foot has no heel component. This ensures that the reaction of the foot accurately mimics that of an able-bodied runner by keeping the user on the "balls of their feet," as well as producing a quicker reaction from the loading response as compared to traditional prosthetic feet.

This is the very heart of the issue. The Cheetah prosthetic is basically a giant spring, giving the wearer a distinct advantage over those runners who have to rely only on their natural leg muscles. I've personally seen the difference carbon flex limbs are capable of; as a former competitive archer myself, I watched the industry move from wood-foam core limbs for bows to carbon-composite limbs, as they allow more flex in a lighter limb, which allows for more power.



It begs the question: is Pistorius a faster runner WITH the prosthetic limbs, than he would have been had he been born with two strong legs? Is his speed as much a product of his prosthetics, as his training and determination? There are other amputee athletes who compete, but none of them are double amputees; many point out that it is their HEALTHY limbs that hold them back, as they are forced to alter their running stance to compensate for the extra speed kick they receive from their prosthetic limb. It's comical that this reminds me of how, as a child, I'd wonder how the original Bionic Man of television, Steve Austin, was able to run as fast as he did - in the original season, he only had one artificial limb and I wondered how his human leg was able to keep up.

Pistorius has two such limbs, and his peers have already voiced complaints that his double prosthetics give him added height, and that added height translates to a longer stride - which as a runner, further translates into increased speed and less energy expended to achieve the same speed and distance. Able-bodied athletes have complained that he does not suffer the stress on his knees and calves that they do, instead relying exclusively on his hips to power his strides. Pistorius himself admits

In this age of doping and performance enhancing in professional sports, Pistorius' tale is potentially a Pandora's Box. It's bad to take HGH to improve your performance and strength, but it's okay if you use technology. If an amputee pitcher used a prosthetic limb to learn to throw a ball, is it wrong if he's throwing strikes at 98pmh? Is it cheating, if an amputee wide receiver or running back has a form of the cheetah limbs?

I'm torn.

Food In The Raw

My friends like to make fun of me when we go hiking & overnight camping, because I always seem to bring too much stuff. I start bringing out odd packages & storage containers, and they shake their heads with wonder...at least, they do until dinnertime.

While they're roasting Oscar Meyer weiners or eating cold sandwiches, I'm eating jambalaya over rice, with garlic bread on the side. For breakfast they're gnoshing on cereal bars, I'm scrambling fresh eggs and flipping pancake (true story!)

The keys are: not letting yourself settle, and preparation. I tell everyone - a ziplock freezer bag is your best friend. A little cooking the night before will leave you warm, full and satisfied by the campfire.

I admit I was a bit lazy this time. The Mexican Chicken soup for dinner was canned, but the trick is to take it OUT the can before you go. Empty it into a baggie, put itinside another, and freeze it. Bingo, 1/4 the weight, fits inside your backpack the same - and ready to eat once you pot it over a fire.

My breakfast was also lazier than normal, but it's been a while since i've done a full pack and didn't want to overdo it. I usd simple packs of instant oatmeal, but brought along a little cinnamon and some "crunch" dried fruit. Added to the oatmeal, the fruit rehydrates - and you've got a tasty, fruity breakfast.

I also have these packs of Internatonal Coffee Cafe Mocha instant drinks. Pour into a mug, add hot water.

Because there ain't no Stabucks out here, and a brother needs his java in the morning.

Don't You...

...wish you were here? :)

In The Heat of the Moment

I had no intention of lighting a fire tonight.

Understand...I am a rational man. I'd had a small fire, just enough to cook with. I was done. A fire served no purpose. I had a lantern. I had a flashlight. Lighting a fire would be...would be...

Of course I lit a fire. I couldn't help myself, something primal in me literally screamed for a fire. My cro-magnon ancestors demanded a fire, and by the gods I would give them one!

I have enough wood collected to build a log cabin, but even as I sit here typing this I'm wondering...

...is it enough?

It IS primal. We as Men - and that's gender specific - are bred to NEED a fire. We are physically incapable of being around the implements needed to start a flame, and not actually do so.

The proof can be found at every BBQ around the globe, Put more than one male near a pit or grill, and all will gravitate towards it. We all must participate, offering our opinions on how it should be done.

"Stack them like a pyramid! " "No, stagger them!" "Add leaves for kindling" "Grass, throw some grass on there!"

Brainfart: This is Why We Do It

Pine Meadow Lake, NY. Feels good, doing this with a full pack after 2 years and still feeling strong.

Brainfart: On The Road

I must have eaten @ the Orange Top Inn a million times over the years. On rte 17, itls sort of the nexus gathering point if you're hiking Harriman, going to the Ren Faire in Tuxedo, or one of a million bikers who seem to frequent the place. Good luck getting a coffee quickly, tho, service sucks but its the only decent diner for miles.

Or, Maybe Little Precious Is a Wii Bit Fat

Those silly, silly Brits are at it once again. And thank the GODS they started it, because you know damn well it would have happened here in the Colonies eventually.

For those of you living under a rock for the past half a year or so, Nintendo has come out last week with a new game called "Wii Fit", which really is more of an exercise videogame than it is an entertainment game. It's designed to get you off your ass and, I don't know...exercise, I guess.

Hence, I suppose, the name "Fit" in the game's name.

My sarcasm is dripping with overflow here because the British media is, itself, overflowing with joy - telling the oh-so-sad tale of a young girl, a mere 10 years of age, whose precious psyche will forever be scarred by this horrible Japanese game which has, apparently, decided that the waif is somewhat on the porkier side of "not-fit".

Meaning she's a fatty.



This is just one article, but there are plenty; they're loving this story, and can't seem to get enough of it.

The short version.

Young miss exhales with joy as Parental Units bring home the overhyped Nintendo "game", which I should emphasize once again is advertised as a "fitness" game. To get you into shape.

Young miss boots up the game, stands on the boogie board provided, and goes through the mild exercises the game puts you through to determine your initial fitness level.

The game calculates, factoring in her age, weight, height, and of course her ability (or apparent lack thereof) to perform the few menial balance and agility tests it has asked her to do.

The game responds. "Holy mother of god, get off my board before you break it in half, you chubby whale!"

Child runs off to Mums, crying hysterically. Mums is outraged that anyone would tell her nummykins she's fat, and bakes the young tot a blackberry pie to soothe her bruised psyche. Reporters swarm eagerly, racing to be the first to tell this dastardly tale.

Of course, I exaggerate. As did, obviously, the press. And this family.

The game does not scream you are fat. It will not poke fun of your Homer Simpson-like beer belly. It does, however, provide you a scale with which to judge your initial degree of fitness, giving you a starting point to improve upon over time.

The girl's father says: "She is a perfectly healthy, 4ft 9in tall 10-year-old who swims, dances and weighs only six stone," said the father, who did not want to be named for fear of embarrassing the girl further.

"She is solidly built but not fat. She was devastated to be called fat and we had to work hard to convince her she isn't.

So. At a conversion rate of about 14pounds to a stone, she's...84pounds, give or take a cupcake or two. I really have no concept of what 84pounds is actually like...but I went searching. Of course.

Things that also weigh 6 stone include:

The PHANTOM THREE-WHEEL SCOOTER has a weight capacity of 300lbs, and gets 15miles on a single charge. This sucker comes apart for easy storage, and yes that is indeed a headlight you see included in the package. Vroom vroom, baby!

If the scooter's not your bag, this HI MOUNTAIN JERKY SMOKER is a compact 24" tall, 19" deep with one oven rack and two smoker screens. It's stainless steel top and interior walls make for quick and easy cleaning. Mmm-mmm, I can smell that squirrel jerky roasting all the way from here!

Maybe...you're more the audiophile, hmmm? These REGA FLOORSTANDING SPEAKERS stand just about 40 inches high (just over 3ft) and 15 inches deep. I'd tell you all about the craftsmanship but who cares, it's a $4000 speaker; it better be made well.

So what does all this really say? It says that a 10yr old girl the size of a small jerky smoker got all teary because her video game called her a tubbo.

Perhaps...I dunno. I'm going out on a limb here. But maybe. Just maybe.

Maybe she's, just, you know, a *bit* overweight? Which, I'm betting, is why Daddykins and Mumsy bought little princess the goddamn FITNESS GAME IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE?!

Holy shit, Batman, what the hell is wrong with you people?!

"Obesity experts" are upset that the game could "damage a child's image of themselves". Obesity experts?

Fat people. Fucking chubbos are upset that junior porkers might actually figure out that they ARE fat, and GODS HELP US do something about it?!

Go eat a fucking double cheeseburger, you fat bastards. These are the same people who probably sued McDonald's for making them fat; yeah, like it's SOOOOOOOO hard to JUST order the grilled chicken salad. I mean, really - you HAVE to have the supersized fries. Oh and it's only a quarter more for the Jumbo sized Coke, so why exercise self control and get the bottled water? Apple pies are TWO for a dollar, of course I don't want just one - and skipping them completely? Out of the question!

...all of this...and the damn game doesn't even tell the kid she's fat. It's a BAR on a SCALE that says she MIGHT be a bit overweight, and HERE'S SOMETHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.

Evil fucking game, that is. Right satanic. Blimey.




<>

The Prime Directive

For all of you non-Trekkies out there, I'm going to ask for you patience for a moment while I clarify exactly what the Prime Directive is.

In the fictional universe of Star Trek, the Prime Directive, Starfleet's General Order #1, is the most prominent guiding principle of the United Federation of Planets. The Prime Directive dictates that there can be no interference with the internal affairs of other civilizations, consistent with the historical real world concept of Westphalian sovereignty.

In human-speak, that means: Fuck off, space traveler. Mind your beeswax. We'll handle our business, you handle yours.

That said...human beings, as a collective and as individuals, will find any excuse to LET SHIT HAPPEN. I don't care how absolutely fucked up a situation is, I guarantee you there will be some fool with a Handycam there filming the whole thing, going "Croikey, would ya look at thet!" We'll watch another Rodney King get his ass whipped something fierce, and when it's all said and done the person will hold up his hands and scream out the Prime Directive.

"Wasn't my business."

Case in point. Because I know, you knew, something sparked this shit.

A friend of mine (thanks, Tippers) forwarded an article that she assumed we'd all find interesting, which I indeed - did. The headline of said article was worded thusly:

Seal caught on tape molesting a penguin
Scientists study rare example of interspecies sexual harassment


Oh yes. It went there. This shit was on MSNBC.com, peoples! It went on:

One summer morning, scientists observing elephant seals on a beach on Marion Island near the Antarctic spotted a young male Antarctic fur seal subduing a king penguin.

At first we thought it was hunting the penguin, but then it became clear that his intentions were rather more amorous," de Bruyn recalled today via email.

The roughly 240-pound seal subdued the 30-pound adult penguin by lying on it. The hapless bird of unknown sex struggled, rapidly flapping its flippers and attempting to stand and flee, without luck.

The seal then alternated between resting on the penguin and thrusting its pelvis at the bird in vain attempts to insert its penis for 45 minutes. Natural, unsuccessful sexual escapades by this variety of seal with members of its own species may last as long as this penguin assault did, "but yes, it is quite a long time and thus unusual," de Bruyn told LiveScience.

The seal then abruptly gave up, moving to sea and completely ignoring the target of its affections. The penguin apparently did not suffer any injury. The scientists detailed their findings in the May issue of the Journal of Ethology.

There was more, of course, but I don't really give a fig; I've got enough to work with right here.

These so-called scientists sat there, for 45 MINUTES, watching a 250lb seal try to anally rape a 30lb penguin.

45 minutes.

All in the name of science.

Now...even the worst stoner, high as a fucking kite, would find this hilarious. As do I.

For maybe...5 minutes, max.

Then - and call me crazy, but really I do feel this to be true - at some point, my FUCKING CONSCIENCE would have kicked in and I'd have tried to stop this from happening. Thrown a rock, splashed some water, yelled "Get the fuck off him, you child molester!" Anything. Because AS a guy, the last thing I want to sit there and watch is some other creature get turned into a prison bitch.

My subway ride to work is 25 minutes. A TiVo'd episode of Lost is 45-50 minutes. So let's put that into some perspective, shall we?

For the length of an episode of Lost, all commercials nicely removed, you ALSO have the option of watching a seal rape a penguin.

45 minutes, folks.

Can I just say, ahead of time...that if ever, EVER, you see me getting anally raped by a 250 seal....stop it. Please. Throw a fucking rock at my head, shoot me and put me out of my misery, do something. Anything.

Because the needs of the one, outweighs the needs of the many.