Monday, May 07, 2007
suck it up, bitch...
I hate the celebrity society in which we live. Hate how the deaths in Iraq and Darfur and Afghanistan are less important than the Alec Baldwin tape. I despise it with a white-hot passion.
But I feel I have to respond to this whol P*r*s H*lt*n crap happening. I feel I have to respond to her cries of, "I feel that I was treated unfairly and that the sentence is both cruel and unwarranted. I don't deserve this."
Fuck you, cunt.
Forty-five days is not cruel. It is certainly not unwarranted. If you were anyone else, you would have been in jail for at least a year, and deservedly so.
You drove drunk. You could have killed yourself. You could have killed another human being. Then you were stupid enough to drive on a suspended license. Consider yourself lucky that no one died and that I wasn't your judge, because you can bet you'd get the maximum amount of jail time available.
I hope that, while in jail (and you had damned well better go to jail and not get off on a technicality), you are forced to talk to people who have lost loved ones to drunk drivers. I'll gladly step up to the plate for that one. I'll watch you squirm as I tell you about how, thirty-four years ago last week, my brother watched my sister get hit by a drunk driver as she crossed a street. How he saw her dragged under the car wheels for several yards. How my mother, when she had to identify her oldest child's body, wasn't allowed to hug her one last time because, as the police told her later, her daughter's scalp had been torn off and was only sitting on the top of her skull. How the driver got off with a slap on the hand when she should have been locked up for man-slaughter for killing a ten year old girl and shattering a family whose members still have scars from that day and always will.
On Saturday I told some friends, when the subject of drinking and driving came up, that I am a stone cold bitch when it comes to this subject. I will always be a stone cold bitch in regards to drinking and driving. I make no apologies for that, nor will I ever.
Suck it up, P*r*s. Do the time. Be human. For once.
But I feel I have to respond to this whol P*r*s H*lt*n crap happening. I feel I have to respond to her cries of, "I feel that I was treated unfairly and that the sentence is both cruel and unwarranted. I don't deserve this."
Fuck you, cunt.
Forty-five days is not cruel. It is certainly not unwarranted. If you were anyone else, you would have been in jail for at least a year, and deservedly so.
You drove drunk. You could have killed yourself. You could have killed another human being. Then you were stupid enough to drive on a suspended license. Consider yourself lucky that no one died and that I wasn't your judge, because you can bet you'd get the maximum amount of jail time available.
I hope that, while in jail (and you had damned well better go to jail and not get off on a technicality), you are forced to talk to people who have lost loved ones to drunk drivers. I'll gladly step up to the plate for that one. I'll watch you squirm as I tell you about how, thirty-four years ago last week, my brother watched my sister get hit by a drunk driver as she crossed a street. How he saw her dragged under the car wheels for several yards. How my mother, when she had to identify her oldest child's body, wasn't allowed to hug her one last time because, as the police told her later, her daughter's scalp had been torn off and was only sitting on the top of her skull. How the driver got off with a slap on the hand when she should have been locked up for man-slaughter for killing a ten year old girl and shattering a family whose members still have scars from that day and always will.
On Saturday I told some friends, when the subject of drinking and driving came up, that I am a stone cold bitch when it comes to this subject. I will always be a stone cold bitch in regards to drinking and driving. I make no apologies for that, nor will I ever.
Suck it up, P*r*s. Do the time. Be human. For once.
Labels: dick-weed, stupid things, white-hot hate
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
flames on the side of my face, breathing, breath...
Christopher Hitchens is an ass.
I know this comes as no surprise to a number of y'all, but this time he has truly surpassed himself. Why? Because in the January 2007 Vanity Fair he deigns to explain to us, "Why Women Aren't Funny."
Granted, the name of the column is, "Provocation." It is expected that what is written there is likely to raise more than a few hackles.
But this bilge? Please, girlfriend.
It's not just that the premise from which Hitchens works is a faulty and patently disprovable one: in Hitchens' world, while he admits there are many witty women, he goes on to imply that witty and funny are not related to one another. Which begs the question: why do both make people laugh?
It's also that the "logic" which he uses is tenuous at best and laughable (hee?) at worst. It took me three tries to slog through the piece of crap he tries to pass off as insight into womens' humor centers. I still don't understand it. I think my brain automatically shuts off when presented with faulty "logic," in an effort keep me from going all Nomad and self-destructing.
Hitchens can bite my shiny white ass.
(Hey, it ain't exactly wit, but he don't deserve my wit.)
I know this comes as no surprise to a number of y'all, but this time he has truly surpassed himself. Why? Because in the January 2007 Vanity Fair he deigns to explain to us, "Why Women Aren't Funny."
Granted, the name of the column is, "Provocation." It is expected that what is written there is likely to raise more than a few hackles.
But this bilge? Please, girlfriend.
It's not just that the premise from which Hitchens works is a faulty and patently disprovable one: in Hitchens' world, while he admits there are many witty women, he goes on to imply that witty and funny are not related to one another. Which begs the question: why do both make people laugh?
It's also that the "logic" which he uses is tenuous at best and laughable (hee?) at worst. It took me three tries to slog through the piece of crap he tries to pass off as insight into womens' humor centers. I still don't understand it. I think my brain automatically shuts off when presented with faulty "logic," in an effort keep me from going all Nomad and self-destructing.
Hitchens can bite my shiny white ass.
(Hey, it ain't exactly wit, but he don't deserve my wit.)
Labels: dick-weed, flames, humor
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