Archive for March, 2012

Kim Jong-il judging North Korean swimsuit competition.

I’m drawn to North Korea in the same way my morbid interests are drawn to the wreckage of a spectacular car crash. As I squeamishly peer through minimally separated fingers at this twisted hulk of a country, I can almost write the accident report myself:

It appears a hereditary Communist personality cult doing about 160 kmh purposely swerved into the High Occupancy Human lane and careened into a swarming mass of faceless people doing absolutely nothing. This collision of irresistible forces and listless masses resulted in a catastrophe of unspeakable ideological carnage, otherwise known as North Korea. Please note: This report to remain confidential pending the notification of next of Kim.

North Korea is not dysfunctional. Lindsay Lohan is dysfunctional. North Korea is a bizarre celebration of national dystrophy. It’s Disneyland in reverse – It’s the unhappiest place on earth. Even though the Korean War scarred the country immeasurably, it’s people are not suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They’re suffering from Current Traumatic Stress Disorder. It’s citizens would be convulsing in disbelief had they not been placed in a government-induced coma that shields them from the gravity of their illness. After the war North Korea circled the wagons, hunkered down and guillotined anyone who refused to participate in mass gymnastics events. I mean their three branches of government are Threats, Reprisals and Amputations. North Korea is the worst case of Plan Continuation Bias since New Coke was brought to market. Read the rest of this entry »

*we’re just choosing to be straight

 Note to readers: The opinions expressed are not necessarily the author’s even though he wrote every word and there are no other sources.

What? You’ve never seen two pussies licking each other.

 Preamble

We hold this truth to be self-evident. That nothing is always and forever. Institutions once considered permanent have come and gone. All My Children, Leif Garrett and Spirograph come to mind. Not that I considered them permanent, they just come to mind. Everything we celebrate or deprecate will disappear eventually which is OK for Rap music and Velveeta, but not so good for friends and lovers. Where it all goes to I have my own giddy inklings. But for today I’m not here to pull back the curtain and reveal what’s behind it (Wish I could?). Today I’m here to focus on one sliver of God’s creation – homosexuality. We owe homosexuality a great debt. The peerless Leonardo da Vinci’s was très gay. Without him the Renaissance would’ve taken place 100 years later and Apple would still be apple. How would we survive in the 21st century without our Swiss Army iPhones? Of course there are problems which continue to hector mankind. My problem is trying to keep Nathan Hale, Ethan Allen and Nathan Lane straight. Especially that Nathan Lane. Read the rest of this entry »

I know I am, but what are you?

Sculptress Gretel Muffet lived in an artists loft in the NoHo section of New York City; an area so named for its complete lack of prostitution. An ardent soul possessing more self-confidence than she really needed, Gretel usually looked to her grandfather Peter Muffet for guidance. Peter was one of those proud old WWII veterans who refused to discuss his war time experiences even though he merely served stateside as a baker. With this kind of role model it’s easy to account for her occasional absurdity. She was crazy about the old coot and whenever anyone asked why she revered her grandfather she’d sigh, “Oh for the love of Pete.”

Gretel was the first to admit she wasn’t very tightly wrapped. After all, she believed restrooms should be segregated not by gender, but by the concavity of one’s belly button. In her world all restroom doors would be marked either Innie or Outie. “Compliance,” Gretel averred, “would be verified with electronic navel readers so you’re either in or you’re out.” Her friends quietly agreed with her while smugly thinking, “Doesn’t this whack job know that nature has already predetermined who’s an Innie and who’s an Outie?”

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