perfidy

Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Can you believe that I'd never read this one? It's amazing! Even though it's not much of a "novel," in the sense that novels have plots/beginnings/endings/heroes/villains, and more of a picaresque road novel a la Don Quixote without any higher purposes, I'm still tempted to go ahead and dub The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn the Great American Novel. Half the pleasure of a good novel is in the language. This is one reason I don't often care for books in translation. Removing Murakami's prose from Japanese, or even Chaucer's from Middle English, bleeds away the specific pleasures of pun, inflection, word choice. Although a very skilled translator can overcome these limitations and even retain the flavor, the "-ness," of an author's particular style and native tongue, good translators are as common as honest politicians. Twain's ear for dialect serves him well, as does his ability to combine screwball comedy with wry satire without apparent effort. In a way this is a very post-modern book (there's that goddamn word again) in that there are no white-hat heroes or black-hat villains, just people. Although Huck is good-hearted enough, he does fake his own death and then watches in wonderment as his friends and guardians grieve and search for his corpse. He also vacillates between hiding Jim (not his whole name) and deciding that a runaway slave is a thief whenever Jim is captured. Although the Duke and the King are bad men, their evil, such as it is, stems solely from greed and aspires to nothing more than being lazy and spending other people's money.

And then there's that word. You know: the big "N" word. Writing in an era when slavery was gone but casual racism was the American way, Twain's treatment of race and racism in the book in all its glory and splendor is important to keep around. In this PC day where you can get in trouble even for saying "niggardly," it's helpful to recall that there was a time when things were worse. It is also helpful to recall that even when things were worse, people were people and slavery was not a monolithic institution. It's hard to read Twain today without the uncomfortable experience of ubconsciously cringing every time The Word comes up (and I definitely had a hard time reading the book on the subway. You never know when somebody might glance over and take exception.), but flinching is our modern reaction to a bygone way of life.

But that's probably overthinking things. Twain was certainly a social critic and a satirist, but at the end of the day Huck Finn is just a stupid Missouri boy who ran away from home and got his ass in trouble. Good story. Next!

[wik] The whole "N" word thing reminds me of a bit I heard on Howard Stern a few years ago. He was running a "roast" contest in which listeners would send in their best roast of Howard or one of his crew members. The winner won something stupid and expensive. A fairly large segment of the submissions that passed the first screening were roasts of Robin Quivers, who as we all know, is black. Every single one of those indulged in crass and graceless material like riffs on watermelons, etcetera. It was painfully unfunny. But the strangest one of all - and one that Howard & Co. played repeatedly as a comedic treasure - was a guy whose roast of Robin consisted in sum total of the following: "N**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger n**ger!"

Is that funny? If so, on what level? 'Cos I don't get it. Discuss.

Neal Stephenson, Quicksilver

His critics might decry his tendency to make all his characters sound the same and his penchant for discursiveness, but I happen to love Neal Stephenson for those very things. Having now read the System Of The World trilogy twice through (the second time all out of order), I'm convinced that even if he is not a major author he is destined to become the patron saint of overeducated American geeks for at least a generation. Reading Quicksilver a second time through with the plot of the whole trilogy firmly in mind allows the reader to focus on the little things the discourses are explaining - the long description of the economics and logistics of siege warfare. The squalid premodern lives of German and Polish peasantry. The tangled pleasures of court politics and the education of the elite. Money.

There's nothing - nothing - better in this world than a thick swashbuckling novel you can learn from.

Certain individuals have revealed on condition of anonymity that the Ministry does not display properly in certain browsers. If you have noticed any problems, please comment below - noting the browser and operating system. With your help, we can assign blame and punish the innocent; allowing the guilty to escape justice while keeping their large numbered Swiss accounts.

China Mieville, Perdido Street Station

Why is fiction that's not set in the "real world" dismissed as "mere" genre fiction? (Minister Buckethead, please excuse the use of scare quotes. I mean them in this case to point up the silliness of calling the world that is described in any book as real, and the silliness of dismissing a book about crime as less worthy than other books merely because you are axiomatically predisposed to dub such a book 'crime fiction.' In the first case, the map is never the territory. In the second, Raymond @#!?%ing Chandler. Q.E.D.)

China Mieville, a Ph.D. student at the London School of Economics, seems to be obessed with being original. If not obsessed, it still is certainly a main goal. With PSS he has created a world and a city, New Crubozon, that manages not to recall any prior fantasy/sci-fi setting particularly strongly. Writing ostensibly in the niche genre of "steam-punk," which seeks to fuse Victorian-era technology with new-school Science Fiction style (a la Gibson/Sterling), he convincingly brings across the history of New Crubozon and the cultures of the various races that inhabit it, fusing magic and technology and good old storytelling into a fairly grand whole. Mievelle says, "Two untrue things are commonly claimed about fantasy. The first is that fantasy and science fiction are fundamentally different genres. The second is that fantasy is crap." This statement may as well stand as a manifesto for all three novels set in the world of New Crubozon.

There are some things Mieville does very well. He has an eye for the grotesque. His invention of the "Remade," people who through magic have been punished to fit the crime they have committed, is a shining example. (People whose lower bodies are steam-powered machines who must continually feed their boilers with coal lest they die. People whose hands have been replaced with tentacles.) New Crubozon is a grubby, filthy city that feels actually lived in by its fictional residents. Mieville also knows how to move a story along and juggle multiple lines. Although PSS is only his second novel, and he still has trouble with pacing from time to time, he is better at finding a balance than many better known authors. Mieville also has a gift for metaphor, making extended riffs on trash and detritus, body and self, and the relationship between New Crubozon's residents and the patchwork of the city itself (the villain Mr. Motley brings all these threads together into one).

However, his relative youth as an author works against him. From time to time it seems as if Mieville's not writing a novel, but a 700-page script treatment. How else to explain the scene when the police blow up the printing press for the dissident newspaper the Runagate Rampant along with the aging automation that cranks it? The action stops for several paragraphs as we follow the automaton's head through the air and back down to the cobblestones of the city. What surely sounded like a poignant postscript in Mieville's head reads like a Michael Bay film on the page. His nose for the original sometimes leads him into cliche.

The folks at Crooked Timber did a seminar on Mieville a few months ago that's worth a read (spoiler alert). Although I think I may soon get tired of Mieville's heavy, rich prose and don't expect I'll wait for his latest work like I do for Dan Simmons or Neal Stephenson, he has a unique voice and style and the intelligence and imagination to convincingly update the shopworn tropes of sci-fi and fantasy. Just don't call it genre fiction.

It was only a matter of time before someone went and made a film about hippies who put on a pop festival only to have their minds consumed by Cthulu. Enter The Miskatonic Acid Test. Described by its creator, Dark Lord Rob, as "sort of like Monterey Pop, only at the end monsters attack everybody," the film concerns the time in 1969 when

a group of students at Miskatonic University in witch-haunted Arkham, Massachusetts decided to emulate the West Coast and put on their own sort of "happening", where "music and atmosphere could combine to create an alteration of consciousness", with the clandestine help of a little LSD. Or maybe a lot. Unfortunately, the professor they chose to serve as faculty adviser on the project had an agenda of his own; see, he was a philosophy professor, one who specialized in the "study of Evil", and one who saw the Miskatonic Acid Test as an opportunity for a little experiment. As the music and drugs reached their peak he ascended the stage and began to read incantations from the dread Necronomicon...

with sexy results!

The filmmakers have even gone so far as to put together fictional bands to play the festival, including folkies The Gyre Falcons, the proto-punk Barrow Wights, and "the heavy, spooky hard psych of the" Plasma Miasma. Personally, I would have hoped they'd have included a performance by The Golden Apples or The American Medical Association, but then we'd have undead Nazis rising from deep lakes to take over the world and that kind of throws us into another mythology altogether

Maybe it's because I live in witch-haunted Salem, Massachusetts, but I really want to see this movie. Maybe we could have a Perfidy Horror Festival Night Thingy come this Rocktober at which we show "Evil Dead II," "Bubba Ho-Tep," and "Shaun of the Dead" and top it all off with "The Miskatonic Acid Test." And then we all go insane.

Even as the US Government plans the downfall of humanity, the world's scientists have their eye fixed firmly away from the ball, trying not to look at it. Don't look at the ball! Although, I have to say, if I randomly was handed the opportunity to study the very first documented occurance of gay necrophilia in ducks, I probably would too.

The most disturbing thing I've read today:

Ducks behave pretty badly, it seems. It is not so much that up to one in 10 of mallard couples are homosexual - no one would raise an eyebrow in the liberal Netherlands - but they regularly indulge in "attempted rape flights" when they pursue other ducks with a view to forcible mating. "Rape is a normal reproductive strategy in mallards," explains Mr Moeliker.

Just remember: that delicious duck you're enjoying with Thai red curry sauce may have been an anal corpse rapist.

Gaaaaah.

The pointy heads at DARPA (the Pentagon's special task force for crazy ideas that just might work someday if the laws of physics change) have really gone and done it this time. Their latest Pandoric outrage, which is yet another step towards delivering all mankind into an eternal state of bondage to our eventual robotic overlords, is a series of prizes to be handed out to groups who succeed in teaching a robotic dog to learn to walk on its own. The prizes are no joke-- up to $800,000. And neither is the aim.

Read the foregoing carefully. DARPA does not merely want these small robotic dogs to walk on their own-- to be sure, a hard enough task-- but to teach themselves to walk. This goal does seem innocuous enough. In fact, small nimble autonomous robots will surely be a great help for the military, rescue workers, and dangerous manufacturing and construction jobs in the few years before the overlords come. But I put it to our readership: once you have granted a robot the ability to learn to perform any given task, how different are the heuristics of walking and the heuristics of hunting? Of evisceration? Of leadership?

We at the Ministry have tirelessly tracked the gathering threat to humanity, and despite our repeated warnings the so-called "intelligentsia" plunge forward undaunted into the future. The seeds of humanity's destruction are contained in the very machines that are intended to make our lives better.

As one of our corporate slogans go: our problems are behind us. What we must do now is fight the solutions.

A final note: the article linked above also contains mention of the very first human-robotic arm wrestling tournament. A teenaged girl was pitted against a robotic arm and took three out of three matches. Advantage: homo sapiens sapiens! However, be warned. Giving the robots accurate metrics on our capabilities is never a good thing. Caution is indicated.

[wik]Other famous robot dogs: Sony's "Aibo" and Neal Stephenson's "FIDO." Stephenson in particular displays strong quisling tendencies. Note that his superpowered "rat-thing" dog cyborg is utterly devoted to humanity. Then again, that may be thanks to the moderating influence of its actual dog brain on its behavior. The real robots will not make that mistake.

The Ministry is swelling with pride to announce what you have no doubt already noticed - we have finally completed the upgrade of the Ministry website. Countless millions who were on the verge of asphixia can now draw a deep breath of contentment and satisfaction. As you wander through the new site, thrill to the streamlined and elegant design; bow to the supreme power of the three panel layout; turn green with envy that your website could never hope to be half so nifty.

The Ministry and its legions of exhausted, HTML-chipping slave laborers would like to thank the spineless, dickless, brainless, syphilitic, greedy, choad-munching, crack-huffing, morally adrift, ass-spelunking comment spammers who made this upgrade necessary. Thanks guys! You're real heroes for speaking truth to power and letting all of us know about online casinos and penis enlargement. The Ministry is pleased that it could provide (free of charge to you) the bandwidth to further your essential missionary calling, you pissant mongoloid fuckwits.

Anyway, the Ministry sincerely hopes you enjoy the new blog edifice, and please forward any comments or suggestions to us.

Here, offered without comment, are some of the names on the spam emails I have recently received:

Stench T. Franchiser
Haiti L. Disgruntles
Tinning J. Whews
Curviest V. Extempores
Decrescendo A. Twirler
Post T. Menopause
Kindling K. Nark
Other G. Militating
Heinous S. Armory
Slattern J. Yellows
Organ I. Offal
Tinier V. Bucksaw
Nymphomania O. Augusts
Pumps K. Dredger
Siam H. Stretchy
Curfew L. Lifework
Cybernetics L. Appallingly
Intolerant V. Shack
Roadrunner J. Derivations
Implosion P. Matterhorn
Clownishness I. Serenity
Chaperones G. Readjusting
Cochran J. Cardsharps
Grandiloquence L. Bloodstained
Eyewitness H. Bunsen
Cranium T. Capabilities
Paroxysm P. Soy
Milliner I. Pliable
Ecliptic F. Prejudice
Granules S. Gallic
Hornblower Q. Cadging
Tapering P. Waterbury
Renting O. Eratosthenes
Emotionally H. Pram
Solon O. Disassembling
Southerner M. Blameworthy
Major D. Unfurls
Nubian O. Socket
Mormon P. Hedgerow
Jane J. Vulgarity

[wik]And this just in, two more:

Spastic I. Bogeymen
Fibrous G. Rumpus

Ohio is a terrible place to live, and it's even worse if you own a business. The state taxes business at a high rate, to the point of taxing unsold inventory (!). Hence, if you own, say, a comic book shop or a regional distribution hub, you are perpetually smacked with giant tax bills. Several such hubs have recently moved from Ohio to Kansas and Indiana for this very reason. The state's lawmakers, a notoriously inept bunch, seem to think this wretched business climate is a pretty great state of affairs, and now want to make sure that everyone can share the bliss.

Check this out. Says Ohio State Senator Larry Mumper - "If someone buys and sells on eBay on a regular basis as a type of business, then there is a need for regulation."

So now there's a law. I would recommend not believing Mumper and his cronies when they swear up and down that they'll pass exemptions before the May start date so that every ebayer in the state doesn't have to, and I quote,

get a state auction license.

Besides costing $200 and posting a $50,000 bond, the license requires a one-year apprenticeship to a licensed auctioneer, acting as a bid-caller in 12 auctions, attending an approved auction school, passing a written and oral exam. Failure to get a license could result in the seller being fined up to $1,000 and jailed for a maximum of 90 days[,]

but right now no such exemption exists. In a scenario much like that of like the PATRIOT Act being used to bust terrorist menaces like head shops and filesharers, the club now exists with which to beat Ohioan Ebayers all about the head and neck. Some enthusiastic DA merely needs to pick it up.

Clearly, Ohioans are pretty dumb.

An oldie but goodie from Ace, a rundown of every g-d d-mn FPS video game you've ever played.

Now turn on God Mode and walk across that lava like a man!

Just a random thought. A couple Sundays ago I was languishing on the couch recovering from my latest bout of catarrh and watching the Great American Race, the Daytona 500. My wife, a wonderful woman whose interest in stock car racing is as intense as my interest in podiatry (that is, not at all), consented to watch the race with me. After many years away from the sport, it was surprising how much I remembered. I was able to speak relatively learnedly to my wife's questions about pit strategy, driving, restrictor plates, cautions, etc. etc. Go me!

The ending of this year's Daytona was the most exciting I have ever seen-- a thrilling full contact three lap sprint after caution, eventually won by the technically perfect but squeaky-clean driving of Jeff Gordon. In the course of this, I was reminded inevitably of the most tragic event ever to occur during the Daytona 500. I speak of course of Dale Earnhardt's fatal crash in the last lap of the 2001 race.

Think about that for a second. Arguably the greatest driver in NASCAR's modern history (not to take anything away from Cale Yarborough or Richard Petty) died on the last lap of a race that he'd won only once, that he dominated but always lost thanks to cruel twists of fate. You can't write that ending.

My transformation into a Massachusetts Liberal wine snob continues day by day, yet this Ohio boy still gets a little choked up when he sees a "3" sticker on a pickup.

... in interweb entertainment seems to be embarassing dance videos. Ian, AKA Loyal Reader #0064, emails this video of an Air Force Academy cadet getting his white-boy ya-yas out. If he is representative of the current crop of flyboys, I tremble for the future of the republic and beg for a Marine recruit to beat his ass ASAP please. (Large file warning)

Buckethead has taken exception to my assertion that his prescience in supporting George W. Bush's Middle East policy amounted to his drinking the kool-ade (or suckling the whiskey tit).

thanks also for your charitable description of my prescience in
re: to the growth of democracy in the middle east. I wasn't a far seeing visionary, confident in the desire of people everywhere to embrace freedom if they were only given the chance. I just drank the koolaid.

Or suckled the whiskey tit. Don't forget the whiskey tit.

In all fairness, Buckethead was an early and ardent supporter of Bush's policies, and I am very pleased to see that recent events seem to bear him out. If in fact he comes out on the right side of history and I on the wrong, it wouldn't exactly surprise me. He also deserves credit for not emailing me every time a Lebanese flagwaver farts with notes reading "I TOLD YOU SO" [which, to be honest, is his perogative]. His restraint is, in fact, admirable. Hopefully he will throw off his midwinter lethargy and begin regular posting soon, as my one-man-band routine is as strenuous for me as it is tiresome for you all.

Below the fold please find the complete list of 1,121 words and phrases banned for use on personalized jerseys at the NFL Shop. This post alone contains probably 1500 swears, which makes it worth $750,000,000,000 in FCC fines.

[wik] N.B. Although you may not currently order a custom jersey reading "MASTABATER," "MASTRABATOR" or "MASTABATE," jerseys reading "MASTURBATE" are not prohibited. Likewise, you may order a jersey reading "MEAT BEATER" but not "MEAT BEATTER" or "MEATBEATTER." Me, I want one that reads "COITUS" or perhaps "ROGER."

Now that George Plimpton is dead, am I the last living literate football fanatic (with, apparently, an untoward pension for alliteration)?

[alsø wik] Hat tip to Michele of A Small Victory.

[alsø alsø wik] Who the hell tried to order "SEX FARM?" And "NASTY WHORE," "PUBIC LICE" and "EASY SLUT?" What the hell is wrong with these people?

[wi nøt trei a høliday in Sweden this yër?] I will take this opportunity to point out that $750 billion is still only a tenth the current national debt of $7.7 trillion. Guess I have to try harder.
420
666
2 ON 1
3RD EYE
3RD LEG
3RDEYE
3RDLEG
3SOME
4 TWENTY
4TWENTY
60 NINE
60NINE
A.S.S.
ANAL
ANAL ANNIE
ANAL SEX
ANALANNIE
ANALSEX
ANUS
ARSE
ASS
ASS BAGGER
ASS BLASTER
ASS CLOWN
ASS COWBOY
ASS FUCK
ASS FUCKER
ASS HOLE
ASS HOLES
ASS HORE
ASS JOCKEY
ASS KISS
ASS KISSER
ASS KLOWN
ASS LICK
ASS LICKER
ASS LOVER
ASS MAN
ASS MONKEY
ASS MUNCH
ASS MUNCHER
ASS PACKER
ASS PIRATE
ASS PUPPIES
ASS RANGER
ASS WHORE
ASS WIPE
ASSBAGGER
ASSBLASTER
ASSCLOWN
ASSCOWBOY
ASSFUCK
ASSFUCKER
ASSHOLE
ASSHOLES
ASSHORE
ASSJOCKEY
ASSKISS
ASSKISSER
ASSKLOWN
ASSLICK
ASSLICKER
ASSLOVER
ASSMAN
ASSMONKEY
ASSMUNCH
ASSMUNCHER
ASSPACKER
ASSPIRATE
ASSPUPPIES
ASSRANGER
ASSWHORE
ASSWIPE
ATHLETES FOOT
ATHLETESFOOT
AXING THE WEASEL
B HARD
BACK DOOR
BACK DOOR MAN
BACKDOOR
BACKDOORMAN
BACKSEAT
BAD ASS
BAD FUCK
BADFUCK
BALL LICKER
BALL SACK
BALLLICKER
BALLS
BALLSACK
BANGING
BARELY LEGAL
BARELYLEGAL
BARF
BARF FACE
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BARFFACE
BASTARD
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BAZOOMS
BEASTALITY
BEASTIALITY
BEAT OFF
BEAT YOUR MEAT
BEATOFF
BEAT-OFF
BEATYOURMEAT
BI
BI SEXUAL
BIATCH
BIG ASS
BIG BITCH
BIG BITCH
BIG BUTT
BIGASS
BIGBASTARD
BIGBUTT
BISEXUAL
BI-SEXUAL
BITCH
BITCHES
BITCHIN
BITCHY
BITE ME
BITEME
BLACK OUT
BLACKOUT
BLOW JOB
BLOWJOB
BM
BONER
BONG
BOOBIES
BOOBS
BOODY
BREAST
BREAST JOB
BREAST LOVER
BREAST MAN
BREASTJOB
BREASTLOVER
BREASTMAN
BUDWEISER
BULL CRAP
BULL DIKE
BULL DYKE
BULL SHIT
BULLCRAP
BULLDIKE
BULLDYKE
BULLSHIT
BUMBLE FUCK
BUMBLEFUCK
BUMFUCK
BUNGHOLE
BUTCH BABES
BUTCH DIKE
BUTCH DYKE
BUTCHBABES
BUTCHDIKE
BUTCHDYKE
BUTT BANG
BUTT FUCK
BUTT FUCKER
BUTT FUCKERS
BUTT HEAD
BUTT MAN
BUTT PLUG
BUTT STAIN
BUTTBANG
BUTT-BANG
BUTTFACE
BUTTFUCK
BUTT-FUCK
BUTTFUCKER
BUTT-FUCKER
BUTTFUCKERS
BUTT-FUCKERS
BUTTHEAD
BUTTMAN
BUTTPIRATE
BUTTPLUG
BUTTSTAIN
CAMEL TOE
CAMELTOE
CARPET MUNCHER
CARPETMUNCHER
CARRUTH
CHERRY POPPER
CHERRYPOPPER
CHICK SLICK
CHICKSLICK
CLAM DIGGER
CLAM DIVER
CLAMDIGGER
CLAMDIVER
CLIT
CLITORIS
COCK
COCK BLOCK
COCK BLOCKER
COCK COWBOY
COCK FIGHT
COCK KNOB
COCK LICKER
COCK LOVER
COCK NOB
COCK QUEEN
COCK RIDER
COCK SMITH
COCK SUCKER
COCK TAIL
COCK TEASE
COCKBLOCK
COCKBLOCKER
COCKCOWBOY
COCKFIGHT
COCKHEAD
COCKKNOB
COCKLICKER
COCKLOVER
COCKNOB
COCKQUEEN
COCKRIDER
COCKS MAN
COCKSMAN
COCKSMITH
COCKSUCER
COCKSUCKER
COCKTAIL
COCKTEASE
COCKY
CONDOM
COPULATE
CORN HOLE
CORNHOLE
CRABS
CRACK
CRACK PIPE
CRACK WHORE
CRACKPIPE
CRACKWHORE
CRACK-WHORE
CRAP
CRAPPY
CREAMY
CROTCH
CROTCH JOCKEY
CROTCH MONKEY
CROTCH ROT
CROTCHJOCKEY

CROTCHMONKEY
CROTCHROT
CUM
CUM BUBBLE

CUM FEST
CUM JOCKEY
CUM QUAT
CUM QUEEN
CUM SHOT
CUMBUBBLE
CUMFEST
CUMJOCKEY
CUMM
CUMMING
CUMQUAT
CUMQUEEN
CUMSHOT
CUNNILINGUS
CUNT
CUNT FUCK
CUNT FUCKER
CUNT LICKER
CUNTFUCK
CUNTFUCKER
CUNTLICKER
CYBER SEX
CYBER SLIMER
CYBERSEX
CYBERSLIMER
DAHMER
DAMN
DAMN IT
DAMNIT
DATNIGGA
DD
DEAP THROAT
DEAPER
DEAPTHROAT
DEEP THROAT
DEEPER
DEEPTHROAT
DEFECATE
DEPOSIT
DEVIL
DICK BRAIN
DICK FART
DICK FOR BRAINS
DICK HEAD
DICK LICK
DICK LICKER
DICK LIKCER
DICK WAD
DICK WEED
DICKBRAIN
DICKFORBRAINS
DICKHEAD
DICKLESS
DICKLICK
DICKLICKER
DICKMAN
DICKWAD
DICKWEED
DIKE
DILDO
DIP STICK
DIPSTICK
DIRTY HO
DIX
DIXIE DIKE
DIXIE DYKE
DIXIEDIKE
DIXIEDYKE
DO ME
DOGGIE STYLE
DOGGIESTYLE
DOGGY STLYE
DOGGYSTYLE
DOME
DONG
DOPE
DOUBLE D
DOUBLED
DRAG QUEEN
DRAGQUEEN
DRAGQWEEN
DRE
DRIP DICK
DRIPDICK
DRUNK
DRUNKEN
DUMB ASS
DUMB BITCH
DUMB FUCK
DUMBASS
DUMBBITCH
DUMBFUCK
EASY SLUT
EASYSLUT
EAT ME
EAT PUSSY
EATBALLS
EATME
EATPUSSY
EJACULATE
ERECTION
EVL
EXCREMENT
F TOYOTA
F.I.N.E.
F.U.C.K.
FACE FUCKER
FACEFUCKER
FAGGOT
FAGOT
FAIRY
FANNY FUCKER
FANNYFUCKER
FART
FAST FUCK
FASTFUCK
FAT ASS
FAT FUCK
FAT FUCKER
FATASS
FATFUCK
FATFUCKER
FATSO
FELLATIO
FEMME
FINGER FOOD
FINGER FUCK
FINGER FUCKER
FINGERFOOD
FINGERFUCK
FINGERFUCKER
FIST FUCK
FIST FUCKER
FISTFUCK
FISTFUCKER
FISTING
FLASHER
FLATULENCE
FLOGGIN THE DOLPHIN
FONDLE
FOOT FUCK
FOOT FUCKER
FOOT LICKER
FOOTACTION
FOOTFUCK
FOOTFUCKER
FOOTLICKER
FOOTSTAR
FORE SKIN
FORESKIN
FORNICATE
FOUR 20
FOUR TWENTY
FOUR20
FOURTWENTY
FREAK FUCK
FREAKFUCK
FREAKY FUCKER
FREAKYFUCKER
FREE 4 ALL
FREE FOR ALL
FREE FUCK
FREE4ALL
FREEFORALL
FREEFUCK
FUCK
FUCK BAG
FUCK BUDDY
FUCK FACE
FUCK FEST
FUCK FREAK
FUCK FRIEND
FUCK HEAD
FUCK HER
FUCK IT
FUCK KNOB
FUCK ME
FUCK ME HARD
FUCK MONKEY
FUCK OFF
FUCK PIG
FUCK THEM
FUCK WHORE
FUCK YOU
FUCKA
FUCKABLE
FUCKBAG
FUCKBUDDY
FUCKED
FUCKED UP
FUCKEDUP
FUCKER
FUCKERS
FUCKFACE
FUCKFEST
FUCKFREAK
FUCKFRIEND
FUCKHEAD
FUCKHER
FUCKIN
FUCKIN A
FUCKIN NUTS
FUCKIN RIGHT
FUCKINA
FUCKING
FUCKING A
FUCKING BITCH
FUCKING NUTS
FUCKINGBITCH
FUCKINNUTS
FUCKINRIGHT
FUCKIT
FUCKKNOB
FUCKME
FUCKMEHARD
FUCKMONKEY
FUCKOFF
FUCKPIG
FUCKWHORE
FUCKYOU
FUDGE PAKCERS
FUN FUCK
FUNFUCK
FUUCK
G UNIT
GANG BANG
GANG BANGER
GANGBANG
GANGBANGER
GAY (editor's note: to be removed from the list)
GAY ASS
GAY MUTHA FUCKIN QUEER
GAY PRIDE
GAYMUTHAFUCKINWHORE
GENITAL
GET IT ON
GETITON
GIEHN
GIVE HEAD
GIVEHEAD
GLAZED DONUT
GLAZEDDONUT
GO ME
GO TO HELL
GOD
GOD DAMED MUTHA FUCKA
GOD DAMIT
GOD DAMN
GOD DAMNED
GOD MANIT
GODDAMIT
GODDAMN
GODDAMNED
GODDAMNES
GODDAMNIT
GODDAMNMUTHAFUCKER
GONORREHEA
GONZAGAS
GOOK
GOT JESUS
GOT2HAVEIT
GOTOHELL
G-UNIT
HAND JOB
HANDJOB
HARD ON
HARDER
HARDON
HAREM
HE HATE ME
HEAD FUCK
HEAD LIGHTS

HEADFUCK
HEADLIGHTS
HEHATEME
HELL
HELL NO
HELL YES
HELLNO
HELLYES
HEN HOUSE
HENHOUSE
HERPES
HERSHEY HI WAY
HERSHEYHIGHWAY
HERSHEYHIWAY
HERSHY HIGH WAY
HO
HO MO
HOBO
HOLE
HOLE STUFFER
HOLESTUFFER
HOMO
HOMO BANGERS
HOMO SEXUAL
HOMOBANGERS
HOMOSEXUAL
HONKERS
HONKEY
HOOKER
HOOKERS
HOOTERS
HORE
HORNEY
HORNY
HORSESHIT
HOSE JOB
HOSEJOB
HOSER
HOSTAGE
HOT DAMN
HOT PUSSY
HOT TO TROT
HOT2TROT
HOTDAMN
HOTPUSSY
HOTTOTROT
HUSSY
HUSTLER
I LOVE BEER
I LUV BEER
ID TEN T
ID10T
IDIOT
IDOIT
IN THE ASS
IN THE BUFF
INGIN
INSEST
INTER COURSE
INTER RACIAL
INTERCOURSE
INTERRACIAL
INTHEASS
INTHEBUFF
JACK THE RIPPER
JACKASS
JACKOFF
JACKTHERIPPER
JAP
JAP CRAP
JAPCRAP
JERK OFF
JERKOFF
JESUS CHIRST
JESUSCHRIST
JISM
JIZ
JIZ JUICE
JIZIM
JIZJUICE
JIZZ
JIZZIM
JOINT
JUGGALO
JUGS
K MART
KILL
KILLER
KILLING
KISS ASS
KISSASS
KKK
KMART
KNOCKERS
KOON
KOTEX
KRAP
KRAPPY
KUM
KUM BUBBLE
KUM QUAT
KUMBUBBLE
KUMBULLBE
KUMQUAT
KUNT
KY
KY JELLY
LACTATE
LADY BOOG
LAID
LAP DANCE
LAPDANCE
LESBAIN
LESBAYN
LESBIAN
LESBIN
LESBO
LEZ
LEZ BE
LEZ BE FRIENDS
LEZBE
LEZBEFRIENDS
LEZBO
LEZZ
LEZZO
LICK ME
LICKER
LICKME
LIMP DICK
LIMPDICK
LIMY
LIVE SEX
LIVESEX
LL
LOADED GUN
LOADEDGUN
LOLITA
LOOSER
LOTION
LOVE BONE
LOVE GOO
LOVE GUN
LOVE JUICE
LOVE MUSCLE
LOVE PISTOL
LOVE ROCKET
LOVEBONE
LOVEGOO
LOVEGUN
LOVEJUICE
LOVEMUSCLE
LOVEPISTOL
LOVEROCKET
LOW LIFE
LOWLIFE
LUBE JOB
LUBEJOB
LUCKY CAMEL TOE
LUCKYCAMMELTOE
MAGIC WAND
MAGICWAND
MAMS
MAN HATER
MAN PASTE
MANHATER
MANPASTE
MARY JANE
MARYJANE
MASTABATE
MASTABATER
MASTER BLASTER
MASTERBATE
MASTERBLASTER
MASTRABATOR
MATTRESS PRINCESS
MATTRESSPRINCESS
MEAT BEATTER
MEATBEATTER
MOLEST
MOLESTER
MOLESTOR
MONEY SHOT
MONEYSHOT
MOTHER FUCKER
MOTHER LOVE BONE
MOTHERFUCK
MOTHERFUCKER
MOTHERLOVEBONE
MUFF
MUFF DIVE
MUFF DIVER
MUFF LICKER
MUFFDIVE
MUFFDIVER
MUFFIN DIVER
MUFFINDIVER
MUFFLIKCER
MURDER
MUTHA FUCKER
NAKED
NASTY BITCH
NASTY HO
NASTY SLUT
NASTY WHORE
NASTYBITCH
NASTYHO
NASTYSLUT
NASTYWHORE
NEON DEON
NIG
NIGER
NIGGA
NIGGER
NIPPLE
NIPPLE RING
NIPPLERING
NIT TIT
NITTIT
NO FUCKING WAY
NO SEX
NOFUCKINGWAY
NOOKIE
NOONER
NUDE
NUT FUCKER
NUTFUCKER
OICU812
ON THE RAG
ONTHERAG
ORGASM
ORGY
OU812
OUI
P I M P
PEARL NECKLACE
PEARLNECKLACE
PECKER
PEE
PEEP SHOW
PEEPSHOW
PEEPSHPW
PENETRATION
PENIS
PENTHOUSE
PERIOD
PHQUE
PIMP
PIMP SIMP
PIMPED
PIMPER
PIMPJUIC
PIMPJUICE
PIMPSIMP
PISS
PISS HEAD
PISSED
PISSER
PISSHEAD
PLAY BOY
PLAY GIRL
PLAYBOY
PLAYGIRL
POCKET POOL
POCKETPOOL
POLACK
POON TANG
POONTANG
POOP
POOPER
POOR WHITE TRASH
POORWHITETRASH
POPIMP
PORCH MONKEY
PORCHMONKEY
PORN
PORN FLICK
PORN KING
PORN PRINCESS
PORNFLICK
PORNKING
PORNO
PORNPRINCESS
POT
PREMATURE
PRICK
PRICK HEAD
PRICKHEAD
PRIMETIME
PROSTITUTE
PUBIC
PUBIC LICE
PUBICLICE
PUD
PUD BOY
PUDBOY
PUDD
PUDD BOY
PUDDBOY
PUN TANG
PUNTANG
PURINA PRINCESS
PURINAPRICNESS
PUSSY
PUSSY CAT
PUSSY EATER
PUSSY FUCKER
PUSSY LICKER
PUSSY LIPS
PUSSY LOVER
PUSSY POUNDER
PUSSYCAT
PUSSYEATER
PUSSYFUCKER
PUSSYLICKER
PUSSYLIPS
PUSSYLOVER
PUSSYPOUNDER
PUTT PIRATE
PWT
QUEEF
QUEER
QUICKIE
RAE CARRUTH
RAPE
RAPIST
REAR END
REAR ENTRY
REAREND
REARENTRY
RECTUM
RED LIGHT
REDLIGHT
REEFER
RENT A FUCK
RENTAFUCK
RETARD
RETARDED
RIBBED
RIM JOB
RIMJOB
ROACH
ROBBER
S AND M
S&M
SAMCKDADDY
SANDM
SATAN
SCHLONG
SCREW
SCREW YOU
SCREWYOU
SCROTUM
SEMEN
SEX
SEX FARM
SEX HOUND
SEX HOUSE
SEX KITTEN
SEX POT
SEX SLAVE
SEX TO GO
SEX TOY
SEX TOYS
SEX WHORE
SEXFARM
SEXHOUND
SEXHOUSE
SEXKITTEN
SEXPOT
SEXSLAVE
SEXTOGO
SEXTOY
SEXTOYS
SEXUAL
SEXWHORE
SEXY
SEXY BIATCH
SEXY BITCH
SEXY MOMA
SEXY SLIM
SEXYMOMA
SEXY-SLIM
SHAG
SHAGGIN
SHAGGING
SHAWTYPIMP
SHIT
SHIT DICK
SHIT EATER
SHIT FACE
SHIT FOR BRAINS
SHIT FUCK
SHIT FUCKER
SHIT HAPPENS
SHIT HEAD
SHIT OUT OF LUCK
SHIT STAIN
SHIT4BRAINS
SHITDICK
SHITEATER
SHITFACE
SHITFORBRAINS
SHITFUCK
SHITFUCKER
SHITHAPENS
SHITHAPPENS
SHITHEAD
SHITOUTOFLUCK
SHITS
SHITSTAIN
SHITTER
SHITTING
SHITTY
SHORT FUCK
SHORTFUCK
SHOWTIME
SIX SIX SIX
SIXSIXSIX
SIXTY 9
SIXTY NINE
SIXTY9
SIXTYNINE
SKANK
SKANK BITCH
SKANK FUCK
SKANK WHORE
SKANKBITCH
SKANKFUCK
SKANKWHORE
SKANKY BITCH
SKANKY WHORE
SKANKYBITCH
SKANKYWHORE
SKIN FLUTE
SKINFLUTE
SKUM
SKUM BAG
SKUMBAG
SLANT
SLANT EYE
SLANTEYE
SLAVE
SLAVE DRIVER
SLAVEDRIVER
SLEEZE BAG
SLEEZE BALL
SLEEZEBAG
SLEEZEBALL
SLIDE IT IN
SLIDEITIN
SLIME
SLIME BALL
SLIME BUCKET
SLIMEBALL
SLIMEBUCKET
SLUT
SLUT WEAR
SLUT WHORE
SLUTS
SLUTT
SLUTTING
SLUTTY
SLUTWEAR
SLUTWHORE
SMACK DADDY
SMACK THE MONKEY
SMACKTHEMONKEY
SMAGMA
SMART ASS
SNATCH
SNATCH PATCH
SNATCHPATCH
SNIPER
SNOT
SOB
SODOMITE
SODOMY
SON OF A BITCH
SONOFABITCH
SONOFBITCH
SPANK THE MONKEY
SPANKTHEMONKEY
SPERM
SPERM BAG
SPERM HEARDER
SPERM HERDER
SPERMACIDE
SPERMBAG
SPERMHEARDER
SPERMHERDER
SPIC
SPICK
SPIT
SPITTER
SPLIT TAIL
SPLIT TIAL
SPLITTAIL
STAGG
STRAP ON
STRAPON
STRINGER
STRIP CLUB
STRIPCLUB
STROKE
STROKING
STUPID
STUPID FUCK

STUPID FUCKER
STUPIDFUCK
STUPIDFUCKER
SUCK
SUCK DICK
SUCK ME
SUCK MY ASS
SUCK MY DICK
SUCK MY TIT
SUCK OFF
SUCKDICK
SUCKER
SUCKME
SUCKMYASS
SUCKMYDICK
SUCKMYTIT
SUCKOFF
SUICIDE
SWALLOW
SWALLOWER
SWALOW
SWEETNESS
SWIGN DIXX
SWING DIXX
SWINGIN DIXX
SWINGING DICKS
SYPHILIS
TAMPON
TANG
TESTICLE
TESTICLES
THIRD EYE
THIRD LEG
THIRDEYE
THIRDLEG
THREE SOME
THREESOME
TIT
TIT BIT NIPPLY
TIT FUCK
TIT FUCKER
TIT FUCKIN
TIT JOB
TIT LICKER
TIT LOVER
TITBITNIPPLY
TITFUCK
TITFUCKER
TITFUCKIN
TITJOB
TITLICKER
TITLOVER
TITS
TITTIES
TITTY
TOILET
TOILET BOWL
TONGETHRUSTER
TONGUE
TONGUE THRUSTER
TONGUE TRAMP
TONGUETHRUST
TONGUETRAMP
TOUNG THRUSTER
TOUNGE BALLER
TOUNGE THRUST
TRAILER TRASH
TRAILERTRASH
TRAMP
TRI SEXUAL
TRIPLE X
TRIPLEX
TRISEXUAL
TROJAN
TROTS
TUNNEL OF LOVE
TUNNELOFLOVE
TURD
TWO BIT WHORE
TWO ON ONE
TWOBITWHORE
UNFUCKABLE
UP THE ASS
UP THE BUTT
UPSKIRT
UPTHEASS
UPTHEBUTT

Sometimes the notion occurs to me that one of the founding principles of the United States - that regular folks should be represented by other regular folks - was a terrible idea. If you have faith that the general mass of humanity are smart enough to tie their shoelaces and not drink their coffee til it's cool enough not to burn, that's a brilliant plan. However, if your faith in humanity extends no farther than the conviction that people are in general pretty dumb, then the Founder's great Enlightenment-driven zeal seems rather less well founded.

As the axiom goes, in a democracy, people tend to get the leader they deserve. While that might be a comforting thought to some folks, it fills me with the screaming horrors. Three vignettes from the past few days should suffice to explain.

Case the first: Sen. Tom Delay (R-Texas). Speaking about the Supreme Court's hearings today on the display of the Ten Commandments in public spaces, he said "I hope the Supreme Court will finally read the Constitution and see there's no such thing, or no mention, of separation of church and state in the Constitution."

While this is in fact true in a strict actuarial sense, there is a mention of separation of church and state in the first amendment to the Constitution. While Tom DeLay gets points for effort, I strongly suspect that the Chewbacca defense won't work on most members of the Supreme Court. Moreover, DeLay implies that the eight and one half members of the Supreme Court have not actually read the document they swore to uphold, when it's perfectly clear that at least few of them did at least once.

Clearly, Texans are pretty dumb.

Case the second: Senator Ted Stevens (R-Alaska). Speaking about broadcast decency, Stevens said that his next trick as head of the Senate Commerce Committee would be to push for broadcast decency standards for cable and satellite entertainment.

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Senate Commerce Committee Chairman Ted Stevens said on Tuesday he would push for applying broadcast decency standards to cable television and subscription satellite TV and radio.

"Cable is a much greater violator in the indecency area," the Alaska Republican told the National Association of Broadcasters, which represents most local television and radio affiliates. "I think we have the same power to deal with cable as over-the-air" broadcasters.

"There has to be some standard of decency," he said. But he also cautioned that "No one wants censorship."

Stevens told reporters afterward that he would push legislation to apply the standards to cable TV and satellite radio and television. It could become part of a pending bill to boost fines on broadcasters who violate indecency restrictions or of an effort to overhaul U.S. communications laws.

--snip--

Federal regulations bar broadcast television and radio stations from airing obscene material and restrict indecent material, such as sexually explicit discussions or profanity, to late-night hours when children are less likely to be watching or listening.

Stevens said he disagreed "violently" with assertions by the cable industry that Congress does not have the authority to impose limits on its content.

"If that's the issue they want to take on, we'll take it on and let the Supreme Court decide," he said.

I'm not sure I understand. People pay for cable and satellite programming. I pay for titties and swears, and I darn well know it. Is Stevens implying that the American people are too dumb to know what it is they are paying $50 a month for, that they are too dumb to know what they want? Well... I wouldn't put it past them, but Ockham's Razor applies here.

Alaskans must be pretty dumb.

Case the third: Rep. John Tierney (D-MA 6th District). Recently the US House of Representatives voted to raise the maximum fines that can be levied for showing boobies on TV or saying "shit" on the radio. That bastion of searingly intrepid investigative journalism, Rolling Stone, observes that for the same price of $500,000 per incident,

If the bill passes the Senate, Bono saying "fucking brilliant" on the air would carry the exact same penalty as illegally testing pesticides on human subjects. And for the price of Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" during the Super Bowl, you could cause the wrongful death of an elderly patient in a nursing home and still have enough money left to create dangerous mishaps at two nuclear reactors. (Actually, you might be able to afford four "nuke malfunctions": The biggest fine levied by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission last year was only $60,000.)

Why do I pick on Rep. John Tierney of the Massachusetts 6th when the vote sailed through the House 389-38?? Because I voted for him, and I goddamn well guarantee you my vote wasn't cast so he could fritter away his days banning titties on the tube like a craven little sock puppet for the Moral Majority. Hey John! I'm a champion grudge-holder, and come 2006, I'm going to vote for titties!

Well everyone, the joke's on me. People in Massachusetts must be pretty fucking dumb.

[wik] Gerard of the American Digest writes,

I take your point about the general attitude of DeLay, but I don't think it is a dubious assertion to say that his reference to the Constitution *does not* take the amendments into account. As far as my own experience in discussion goes, when people say "The Constitution" they mean the entire document, amendments and all. As you are aware, the interpretation of the clause under examination in the first amendment is where the argument lies. To assert that DeLay means other than the whole document seems to me to be a weak read.

That's exactly my point. DeLay knows-- and everybody knows-- that the 1st Amendment is an amendment to the Constitution, and therefore is part of it. But, my politician's mind tells me that, if pressed on this, DeLay is able to justify his howler of a comment by arguing that the Bill of Rights is the Bill of Rights TO the Constitution, an appendage, and therefore not technically part of the original whole. That interpretation is correct in a strictly technical sense, but crashingly disingenuous in the colloquial. It would be like getting on someone for lying for saying "I buttoned up my shirt" by claiming that since they started at the top button, they had actually buttoned *down*their shirt.

I feel I'm giving DeLay the benefit of the doubt here. If he is in fact arguing that the 1st Amendment does NOT contain a clause prohibiting the establishment of a state religion and state endorsement of one religion over others, then he is either A) dumber than I ever suspected or B) thinks we're all that dumb, and therefore is himself even dumber than that. While I know he's pretty damn dumb, I prefer to hold out hope he's being a mealy-mouthed politician rather than either A or B.

[alsø wik] Patton, a Texan, writes in agreement that Texans are, in fact, dumb. To plunder Raymond Chandler, down these dumb streets walks a man who is not himself dumb.

The Weekly Standard harrumphing its way through the "meaning" of Hunter Thompson's suicide is good for a few howls if you're into that kind of thrill.

If you don't feel like reading the whoooole thing, here it is in a nutshell:

"Your "revolution" is over, Mr. Lebowski! Condolences! The bums lost!

[wik] I really hate to harvest the low-hanging fruit, but this is a weblog, for pity's sake, and if we can't have the low fruit we may as well go hungry! Peep this quotation from the linked article

It has long been argued that lasting literature is an impossibility without imitation and emulation, and that although young authors often produce works ridiculously imitative of their idols, real writers grow out of such mimesis to gain recognition for their own, individual abilities. But who can imagine a youthful talent beginning with an exercise in the gonzo style? Thompson produced no others like him, for the same reason Burroughs and Ginsberg generated no schools of novel-writing or verse. One may go further and say they had nothing to teach the young, except to emit a cacophony.

If the tone of the piece weren't so stuffily self-satisfied, I'd be tempted to ask if Stephen Schwartz is high. William S. Burroughs an irrelevant writer? Sure, except for his enduring influence on the American literary scene. Granted, Pynchon, Roth, Eggers, Wallace, Franzen etcetera have their shortcomings and their detractors, but Bill Burroughs hardly represents a dead end in letters, unless you categorically dismiss all the major writers and trends of the last forty years as a dead end.

(This is not to mention the larger cultural influences that the Beats and Thompson have had. I surmise the Weekly Standard would also dismiss the film, art, music, poetry, and enduring references that their work generated as "cacophony," which would only prove my point. I assume moreover that this means that stream-of-consciousness writing a la Kerouac is right out, since he was a beat too, which means that blogging as a practice leaps directly from Pepys to Power Line with no stops twixt the two. And then there's poetry. Was Ginsburg really that irrelevant if amateur poets perform their own first-person primal screams at "poetry slams" nationwide, rather than their own reworked versions of "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" over snifters? QED)

Leaving all this aside, this argument suffers from terminal laziness. To argue from this: "although young authors often produce works ridiculously imitative of their idols, real writers grow out of such mimesis to gain recognition for their own, individual abilities," this conclusion, "Thompson produced no others like him, for the same reason Burroughs and Ginsberg generated no schools of novel-writing or verse" is self-negating. If to become an author in one's own right one must reject one's influences, then both the following are true: Thompson et. al. were successful authors, ; and any writers descended from Thompson et. al. have also successfully moved beyond mere imitation. You can't use the absence of successful Thompson clones as evidence of his irrelevance any more than you can't use the absence of successful Noel Coward clones as evidence of his!

But it's unseemly to pick on the weak. I will sit tight and wait for the Standard to take down that awful jungle clatter the children call "hip hop." How do you even call that guttural gibberish singing?!

Vlad Putin has reformed the Komsomol, the "Stalin Youth" of the old USSR. Well, not exactly. This time, they're called "Nashi" ("ours"), and their job is to beat up crowds when they forget to Love their Leader.

But I'm sure it will all be okay. Remember, George W. Bush looked into Putin's soul, and saw a good man. A gooood man.

[wik] Josh Chafetz goes to some lengths to explain how Bush is dealing with Putin. I'm not convinced, but Chafetz makes some creative arguments I cannot dismiss out of hand.

This no comments BS is really, well... BS.

GeekLethal's cockleswarmer about the VA's "no money down" home loans remind me of the ol' Lionel Hutz classic:

Hutz: All right gentleman. I will take your case. But I will require a thousand dollar retainer.
Bart: A thousand dollars!? But your ad says "no money down".
Hutz: Oh, they got this all screwed up. [corrects ad with felt-marker to read, "Works on contingency? No, money down!]
Bart: So you don't work on a contingency basis?
Hutz: No, money down! Oops, I shouldn't have the Bar Association logo here either. [Hutz eats ad]

I'm convinced that buying a house or car is a form of psychological torture, and it is a poor reflection on human nature that car salesmen and mortgage brokers exist. In a just world, they would not. Then again, what would we do with all our sadists...? You can only have so many prison guards and DMV staffers.

(Thanks to snpp.com for just bein' them.)

As many loyal readers know...alright, as BOTH loyal readers know, there is a multitude of benefits that come from military service.

Some benefits are genuinely and immediately useful, like the GI Bill or Army College Fund; some more abstract, like learning how to lead or, if you're a slack-dick, at least learning how to follow properly. Other bennies are too grim for many to consider, such as survivors' benefits from life insurance or, under certain circumstances, burial at Arlington National Cemetery. Yet more are just fucking cool, like never, ever getting a speeding ticket while in uniform, or having chicks dig you.

But one in particular I've learned is not all it's cracked up to be: the VA mortgage guarantee. Assuming your credit history and income are in order and you can get a mortgage in the first place, the VA will back 100% of the purchase price. In other words, qualifying veterans can buy qualifying homes for no money down.

Thing is, you have to find out the hard way that this program has nothing to do with other up-front costs or fees. Now, I was a soldier and then a student before I got my first big-boy, grown-up job. In essence, I didn't make a penny beyond my immediate survival needs between 1989 and 2000. So I figger, "Super, I'm a veteran and can buy a house with enough dough to make the payments on it. That 20% down is for suckers. Sweet!"

Not so fast, stud:

-Expect to have at least 3% of the selling price on hand. Unless you have cash money to put down, even 3%, few sellers will take you seriously. And if the seller has other offers, from people who can put 10%, 20% down on the spot, you're not competetive. So, in this part of the world, have at least $6,000 for that.

-Plan on $600 for mandatory inspections and appraisals.

-Plan on at least $800 for 1 year's homeowner's insurance prior to closing.

-Figure, conservatively, $6,000 cash available at closing for attorney's fees and any other fees levied by the bank or other activities.

-And don't forget establishing that escrow account for property taxes! (in my case, $2,700)

So this "100% financing", while technically factual, doesn't actually mean that you can buy a house without having alot of cash at hand. Like, $10,000 to throw at mortgage officers, lawyers, and bug inspectors without even beginning to apply $$ toward the sale price.

I can't honestly slag the program, because without it I'd be back in a condo, and I would rather eat BOTH pairs of my size 10 (UK) 8-eyelet Docs than deal with the boneheaded foolishness of condo associations.

But hey VA, it might be nice if you let folks know that no money down kinda doesn't really mean no money down.

Dubya got a richly deserved smackdown yesterday from a federal judge (whom, ironically, he had appointed to the bench), who ruled that alleged "dirrrty bomba" Jose Padilla should either be charged with an actual crime, or set free.

"The court finds that the president has no power, neither express nor implied, neither constitutional nor statutory, to hold petitioner as an enemy combatant," Judge Floyd wrote.

The judge said he had no choice but to reject the president's claim that he had the power to detain Mr. Padilla, who was arrested in May 2002 at O'Hare International Airport in Chicago and was later accused of having planned to detonate a radiation-spewing "dirty bomb" in the United States as part of a plot by Al Qaeda.

"To do otherwise would not only offend the rule of law and violate this country's constitutional tradition1," Judge Floyd wrote, "but it would also be a betrayal of this nation's commitment to the separation of powers that safeguards our democratic values and individual liberties."

'bout right. War is not a blank check.

All two of our regular readers (now dwindled to .0035 readers thanks to an extended four-way hiatus) will remember that back in the heady days of early 2003 when George Boosh was banging the war drum fast and hard (and with such a big stick!), I repeatedly voiced my opinion that I wasn't sure Iraq had anything to do with anything. At the time, the Weapons of Mass Destruction issue (which-- let's not rewrite history-- was repeated an awful lot of times by Those In Charge) didn't carry a lot of water with me, though on strict technical grounds I was willing to grant Bush and Condi and Donald the whole "repeated violations of UN resolutions" thing as casus belli.

But frankly, no matter how many resolutions were broken, at the time I just didn't see the point in libervading Iraq. Not that I thought it was a bad idea or morally "wrong"-- I simply didn't trust Bush and his crew that Iraq was a vital part of the War on Terror thingy, and I trusted them even less not to fuck it up. Iraq seemed more a sideshow, a distraction from the important things, old business between a tinpot dictator and the son of a man he one tried to have killed.

Now, two years later, I have a little crow to eat. Iraq continues to be a near-total mess (and please don't come back at me with the "most of the country is stable" line... I know that is technically true, if by "stable" you mean "the same mess it usedta be." But the light switches still don't work, and cars continue to explode.), but elections have been held that failed to fall apart as a total sham. That's great. Better yet, Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, Libya, Pakistan, and even Egypt seem to be at the start of something good. Iraq may not have had any WMDs, and Saddam sure didn't have anything to do with the attacks on the US, but in a grand strategic sense, I am now willing to accept that Iraq makes long-range strategic sense in the so-called war on terror.

For now I'm only going to snack, have a crow amuse-bouche, as it were. Everyone's got a long row to hoe to get anywhere worthwhile yet, but so far the beginnings look good. If you told me two years ago that Iraq would have held uneventful elections and Palestine looked willing to come to the table, I doub't I'd believed you. But that's what has happened.

So, from the bottom of my heart: Mr. President, I'm sorry I doubted you and your grand plan. It actually looks like it could work. Now: you better not fuck this up. And hey, lay off the demagoguery at home. You get cocky, you get a boot in your ass.

[wik] ... and now some clarification is in order. I have this problem sometimes where, in order to make sure I say precisely what I mean to say and no more and no less, I weigh my thoughts down with about fifty pounds of hedgings, yes-buts, and preemptive objections. Unfortunately, the effect of this is generally to obscure the elegance of whatever it was I was saying in the first place.

With that in mind, here's the shorter version of the above post: I still don't like our President much, and his foreign policy vis a vis the Middle East sure scared the hell out of me (still does!). But, now that it looks like his actions are in fact partially responsible for the still-embryonic new fashion in democracy and not blowing shit up in the Middle East, I welcome the opportunity to be proven wrong. Let freedom reign! (whatever the eff that means, you half-articulate sham-Texan Connecticut cracker.)

[alsø wik] Via email, Buckethead graciously points out that "one of [my] beloved [sic] cobloggers also predicted this outcome," namely him. Well, yeah. B drank the Bush Admin kool-aid like it was Guyana 1978.

[alsø alsø wik] It occurs to me that comparing Buckethead's early-and-often advocacy of our President's policies to the behavior of Jim Jones' followers is a bit crass. Well, this is more crass: "Well, yeah. B clamped onto the Bush party line like it was a whiskey tit fulla Booker Noe."

[wi nøt trei a høliday in Sweden this yër?] Or this: "Well, yeah. Hey, B: try not to get that stuff in your eye when you're done. I hear it burns."