Seek Here And You Shall Find (Or Not)
To the person who came to my site searching for "Visine+diarrhea+deadly," I have to tell you that you may be using the product incorrectly.
To the person who came to my site searching for "Women+Without+Clot," I hope I never find out what that means.
To the person who came to my site searching for "where+can+i+rate+naked+people," I only ask, if you find the answer, you inform me immediately.
To the person who came to my site searching for "squashing+remove+misdemeanor+from+record," I would just like to know where, exactly, "squashing" is considered a misdemeanor.
To the person who came to my site searching for "candid+thongs+exposed," I can assure you that, since 1/3 of my visitors come here searching for "exposed+thongs," there are many in the world who share your strange fetish.
To the person who came to my site searching for "toad+licking," I can only say that your path in life has gone horribly astray.
To the person who came to my site searching for "spanking+my+mother," your mother had better have done something REALLY bad.
Gone, But Not Forgotten
For a limited time, you can enjoy Baghdad Bob's famous hit song.
Or, you can put together your own Baghdad Bob press briefing.
Finally, if you simply need to nurse some nostalgia for Comical Ali as he's also known, visit his fan site.
Spring Spending
Why does it always seem that spring turns out to be the most expensive time of year. Every year, without fail, my car decides that it's going to fail in a variety of ways, and because it's a Cadillac, the failures translate into big sized dollar amounts to get fixed. Last weekend, I brought it in for an oil change and to have the brakes looked at. For some time now, when braking, I noticed that it felt like I was driving over a stack of human bodies. It shouldn't feel like that. It should be smooth.
Turns out, the brake pads were no longer brake pads, and the brakes themselves were very nearly no longer brakes. Price tag: $168. I was also informed that I'm in need of new tires. Not just one or two tires, mind you, but a whole new set of four. I don't want to do that, but neither do I want to hydroplane into a lamp post. I shudder to think of the price tag on four new tires.
Also, the climate control is all out of whack. According to the digital temperature guage, it was 127 degrees outside this morning. That's not right. That's not even close to right. Now, I could live with an incorrect outside temperature reading. I mean, that's a convenience that I could care less about. Unfortunately, the thermostat also misreads the temperature INSIDE the vehicle. Therefore, the heating and air conditioning don't know what the hell is going on. Because it "thinks" it's 127 degrees outside, if I tell it to cool my car down to, say, 75, it cranks out enough cold air to freeze my sperm in an instant. Likewise, if I want a little heat, the confused machine calls forth the flames of the seventh circle of hell. It's a delicate balancing act to keep my car at a comfortable temperature between hypothermia and third degree burns.
I read the car manual so I can find out if a messed up thermostat can be repaired cheaply. I know, it was a foolish gesture. The manual said that faulty thermostats will have to be replaced, and that I should only entrust the thermostat replacement to a certified GM professional. That's Cadillac lingo for "this is fucking gonna cost you."
I like my Cadillac. It's a '96 Eldorado, and it's pretty sporty for a Caddy. It's more comfortable than all the furniture I own, and it's reliable as hell the rest of the year. But, it just gets tired come spring, as if it's saying, "Look, I got you through the winter in one piece. How about a little TLC." I'll provide the TLC. I just wish it didn't cost so much. Cadillac repair shops are the high priced call girls of the automobile world. And I'm about to get royally screwed.
Protest THIS
Spare me your laments about about Iraqi civilian and soldier deaths. In fact, spare me any anti-war whining rhetoric. I can't hear it any more. If you honestly believe that the Iraqi people, as a whole, preferred a 24 year reign of terror and oppression to a one month war, you live in a world far removed from reality.
What I saw today was an Iraqi spirit that was able to breathe free for the first time in over two decades, a spirit was more than willing to accommodate, and even cheer, a U.S. military force on their soil, because their presence meant that they could live again. If you think a regime that supports a prison system established specifically for the torture of children, and a regime that tortures Olympic athletes, is acceptable over a precision air assault and smash mouth ground offensive meant to sweep away that regime, you're probably six degrees of separation below stupid.
Meaningless inspections wouldn't have toppled that ridiculous statue of Saddam. Only force could do that. In the end, it seemed appropriate that the Iraqi civilians couldn't bring the statue down themselves, they needed U.S. help to do it, just as they could never have overthrown Hussein's regime without a massive amount of U.S. assistance.
Is this what you were protesting? If so, shut up. You're wasting air when you speak.
Al Queda could never have seen this coming in the wake of their "great victory" on 9/11. In less than two years, two regimes known to sympathize and harbor terrorists have been overwhelmingly overrun. In the wake of this display of military might in Iraq, other nations supporting terrorism are surely quaking in their boots and are rethinking their dangerous alliances with terrorist groups. 9/11, though a national tragedy for the U.S., has become al Queda's worst nightmare. We're not the America they thought we were, we're not an America that, when struck, packs up our military toys and goes home. That's what they thought the U.S. was all about. Kill a few soldiers and parade them around on television, and we'll retreat without further fight. They're learning that we do, indeed, fight. And we fight hard, and fast, and a whole hell of a lot better than they do.
Pause now, and consider that coalition forces accomplished all of this in both Afghanistan and Iraq, and they fought restrained tactics. This has been a show of military might with our best and strongest cards still being held. Jeez! Imagine what we could do if our goal wasn't liberation. Imagine what we could do if we really were pissed.
UPDATE: An e-mailer just noted that it wasn't worth the death and destruction just to see a statue fall. To you, I say, you're a fool. Would you die and kill for the freedoms we enjoy? Would you die and kill so others can enjoy them? If you answer no, then you're not worthy of those freedoms. Freedom isn't simply an American right, it's a human right, and we just enforced it.
UPDATE: Another e-mail (jeez, people, the comment engine is RIGHT THERE). "Are you done gloating now?" You know what? No, I'm not done gloating. I'm so fucking piss ass happy right now, clowns are about to fly out of my ass. Every time I see the Iraqi people dancing and taking vengeance on Saddam's images, I get that much more happy. Enjoy it. Savor it. Feel this monumental shift in history and celebrate it. And, most of all, remind those pacifist milquetoast whiners that, yes, sometimes war, even a pre-emptive war, is not only justified, but morally right.
UPDATE: But, why subject you to my joyous gloating when you can simply go here.
My Own Misinformation Minister
As if I wasn't already a news-aholic, this war with Iraq has turned me into a news junkie of the highest order. By the end of the war, I'll be a stick-thin, pasty skinned Gollum living in an abandoned house, desperately trying to dial a broken down computer into the Internet just so I can get "one. . .last. . .news. . .fix."
What I find fascinating about the war coverage is the different flavors of bias I read from the competing news agencies, from Fox News (motto: We're So Right Wing, We Fly In Circles), to Reuters (motto: The U.S. Does Everything Wrong, And We Report It), to Al-Jazeera (motto: We Don't Have a Motto, Because That's An Infidel Term). But, I digest it all, and I can usually piece together a comfortable middle ground analysis. Such is the state of the mass media today that you have to become your own news editor.
Of all the war spin being dished out, however, it's tough to beat the statements that spew forth from the Iraqi Minister of Information, who is being referred to more and more as "Baghdad Bob." Actually, his real name is Mohammed Sahid Al Saha, which, loosely translated, means "A Big, Steaming Pile of Saha."
Now, to put it mildly, Baghdad Bob's take on the war is. . .fanciful. The guy could be shoved down the barrel of a coalition cannon and he would say, without hesitation, that he had single-handedly taken over an entire U.S. armored division. I have to hand it to the guy for his "glass is half full" outlook on life.
As an example, when coalition forces took control of Saddam International Airport (now Baghdad International Airport), and strongly fortified their hold on the facility, Baghdad Bob issued a statement that roughly resembled the following:
"The American pig dog losers have not taken the airport named after our beloved Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein, may we all love him and hold him in our hearts. Republican Guard forces have smashed the Americans! Americans trying to enter Baghdad are being torn apart like a toothbrush in the mouth of a rabid pit bull!"
Now, although I have yet to regard Baghdad Bob's statements with anything besides huge bouts of laughter, I have to admit that his fanatical denial of reality would really be useful in every day existence. I, for one, wouldn't mind having a personal misinformation minister following me around all day, putting a positive spin on my life.
REALITY: I live in a basement apartment that consists of furnishings that could all be dismantled with a screwdriver in about 10 minutes.
MISINFORMATION MINISTER: Ryan Rhodes lives in a palatial estate! His 32 room home is decorated with the finest Persian rugs and medieval tapestries! His plush furnishings rival those owned by the sultans of yore! His heated Olympic sized hot tub (yes, there are Olympic hot tubs!) is tended by scantily clad members of the U.S. women's soccer team!
REALITY: I shave my head, because a cruel genetic joke dictated that I should start losing my hair at the age of 21, and I feel that I'm simply beating genetics at its own game by running a razor over my cranium daily. To counterbalance this effect, I have so much body hair it looks like a litter of kittens is sleeping on my chest.
MISINFORMATION MINISTER: Ryan Rhodes is a smoking hot specimen of male hunkiness! Women swoon at his godlike feet! His great, wonderful, intelligent and perfect-shaped head gleams forth with a shining radiance not seen since the sun first came into being! Such a cranium should not be covered by hair! Nay, it should be exposed and adored by all! Ryan's broad, strapping, muscular chest is insulated by many natural interwoven silken strands that warm his mighty heart!
REALITY: I shot myself in the foot with a B.B. gun in 9th grade. I almost killed myself when I blew up a grenade in my back yard when I was 21. I have probably unknowingly almost killed myself more times than I can possibly imagine.
MISINFORMATION MINISTER: Ryan Rhodes laughs in the face of death! The Grim Reaper cowers before him, knowing that the great and wonderful Ryan will only die at a time and a place of his choosing! Mountains will crumble and nations will fall before Ryan Rhodes succumbs to the passage of time!
Jumping On The Monty Python Bandwagon
There have been some great parallels drawn between the classic scenes in Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail and the current War in Iraq. Although I run the risk of this probably already having been done, I like to think this particular bit of parody to be an original Ryan Rhodes concept. If not, my apologies to whoever beat me to it:
MINSTREL sings:
Bravely bold Sir Saddam
Brought forth from Baghdad.
He was not afraid to die,
Oh, brave Sir Saddam!
He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways.
Brave, brave, brave Sir Saddam.
He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp.
Or to have his eyes gouged out, and his elbows broken!
To have his kneecaps split, and his body burned away
And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Saddam.
His head smashed in and his heart cut out,
And his liver removed and his bowls unplugged,
And his nostrils raked and his bottom burnt off,
And his penis--
Saddam (interrupting): That's...That's, uh... That's enough music for now, lads. It looks like there's Democratic work afoot.
UNITED NATIONS: Halt! Who art thou?
MINSTREL: He is brave Sir Saddam, brave Sir Saddam, who ...
Saddam (to MINSTRELS): Shut up. Oh, nobody really. just passing through.
UNITED NATIONS: What do you want?
MINSTREL: To fight and ...
Saddam: Shut up. Nothing really. just to pass through, good United Nations.
UNITED NATIONS: I'm afraid not. This is my bit of the free world. Find your own bit.
Saddam: I am the leader of Iraq. I seek weapons of mass destructions. Stand aside and let me pass.
UNITED NATIONS: You are the leader of Iraq?
Saddam: I am.
*From now on the UNITED NATIONS speak individually*
FRANCE: Shit.
UNITED STATES: In that case I shall have to kill you.
BRITAIN: Shall I?
GERMANY: Oh, I don't think so.
FRANCE: I'm not sure.
UNITED STATES (to BRITAIN): What do I think?
BRITAIN: I think kill him.
FRANCE: I'm still not sure.
UNITED STATES: All right. How many of me think I should kill him?
BRITAIN: I do.
UNITED STATES: One.
GERMANY: That's not a quorum.
UNITED STATES: It is if I'm the Chairman.
GERMANY: Oo, it's not.
FRANCE: I'm the Chairman this week.
UNITED STATES: You're not.
BRITAIN: Look, it'll make it much simpler if I vote with me.
UNITED STATES: To kill him.
BRITAIN: Yeah.
FRANCE: (tuts) Oh, damn.
UNITED STATES: (to SIR Saddam): Knight, I have decided to kill you.
FRANCE: With one absenting.
UNITED STATES: Knight, I have decided to kill you with one absenting.
BRITAIN (to SIR Saddam): Sorry about this but I have to be fair.
Saddam: Oh, that's all right. So you are going to kill me with your big missiles?
UNITED STATES: Er no, with my entire military might.
FRANCE: Resolutions.
BRITAIN: Missiles are quicker.
UNITED STATES: No, no, entire military might, it's easier.
GERMANY: He said missiles.
Saddam: Look, hurry up you bureaucratic monolith, or I shall develop nuclear weapons and use them on you..
UNITED STATES: (to SIR Saddam, referring to FRANCE): For God's sake, nuke that one, and do us all a favour.
FRANCE: What do you mean?
UNITED STATES: Yapping on all the time.
FRANCE: You're lucky, you're not next to him.
BRITAIN: What do you mean?
FRANCE: You snore.
BRITAIN: Oo, lies. Anyway, you've got bad breath.
FRANCE: (aspirating heavily): I haven't.
*Both BRITAIN and FRANCE turn away slightly, making faces*
FRANCE: It's not my fault. It's what you eat.
UNITED STATES: Look, stop this bitching. We've got a Saddam to kill.
BRITAIN: He's buggered off.
UNITED STATES: So he has. He's scarpered.
BRITAIN: That's all your fault.
FRANCE: No, it's not.
BRITAIN (swipes at FRANCE): Take that.
FRANCE: Ow.
BRITAIN: I'm sorry.
UNITED STATES: 'Ere, stop it. I'll teach you.
*The UNITED NATIONS starts laying into itself with resolutions and rhetoric, while the NATIONS argue and shout with pain.*
MINSTREL: Brave Sir Saddam ran away.
Saddam: No!
MINSTREL: Bravely ran away away....
Saddam: I didn't!
MINSTREL: When Danger reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled.
Saddam: No!!
MINSTREL: Yes brave Sir Saddam turned about
Saddam: I didn't!
MINSTREL: And gallantly chickened out..
Saddam: I never did!
MINSTREL: Bravely bravely bravely bravely
Saddam: All lies!
MINSTREL: Bravely bravely brave Sir Saddam
Saddam: All lies!
UPDATE: Where is Robert Fisk when this shit is happening?
Let's Get Readyyyyyy to Rumble!
Mel and I had our first big fight this weekend, and like most fights, it was over something just incredibly stupid.
Friday night brought an April snowstorm, complete with huge, wet, sloppy flakes, slick roads, and treacherous conditions. And Mel thought she would drive to Rochester in the maelstrom. This did not set well with the worried boyfriend. I told her to quit being so stupid, and to stop putting herself and the other stupid motorists at risk. But, she pressed on. After an hour and a half of battling the elements, she had traversed only about 20 miles.
"Stop being so stubborn and stupid," I told her over her cell phone. "This is so fucking pointless!"
"But, I just want to see you, and I don't want to turn around after being on the road for an hour-and-a-half," she explained.
"Listen, I can't stop you from doing this, but I will tell you right now that I'll be blindingly pissed if you drive down her tonight," I said, and I meant it.
Two hours later, sick with worry, and after two unanswered calls (she didn't hear it ringing), she called and told me she made it to Rochester. She wanted to come over right away. But, I was so blindingly pissed off, I didn't want to see her, so I told her to got to her mom's, or her dad's, or anywhere, but don't dare darken my doorstep. She protested, apparently unable to understand why I was so mad.
I didn't want to see her. I couldn't imagine seeing her. She had so totally thrown common sense and safety to the side that I just sat in dark rage. Rage because I had to worry over her for such a pointless reason. I wanted to be away from her. Far away from her. I didn't want even the possibility of seeing her.
I waited until the snow let up, and I drove around to assess road conditions. Then, I decided to drive down to my hometown, putting distance between myself and Mel. I called her and told her that I was going, but I got her voice mail and decided that would have to suffice. In other words, in my pissed off state, I went and did exactly the same thing that pissed me off so bad in the first place; I drove in shitty road conditions. Actually, the roads were pretty decent by the time I took off, but the hypocrisy of my decision still stings me.
Mel was not pleased, and I suppose that was my intention all along. She came down to Rochester to be with me, so I turned the tables and drove away from her. One of those stupid relationship games that I hate playing but get sucked into regardless.
"You're so fucking selfish," she yelled at me via phone. "I can't believe you did this! Thanks for ruining MY weekend!"
The stark irony of her calling me selfish while at the same time ruining HER weekend just served to piss me off all over again. This was simply a battle of wills. Her selfishness versus mine. Her stubborness versus my own. And when it comes to selfishness and stubborness, Mel and I are just too equally matched.
Come Saturday, I was fine. I was ready to put the whole thing behind me. Mel was not. She yowled and howled at me, crying occasionally, occasionally calling me foul names. Thus, Ryan's anger level started rising again, and I didn't want to see her again. I mean, who wants to see someone when you're both just incredibly pissed at one another? Gee, that's quality time. I told her I was staying in Harmony, and she could stay in Rochester, and she started crying and asked why I didn't want to see her, and I told her she already knew the answer to that.
See? Just totally stupid. We were both wrong. We were both totally wrong. But we both weren't going to admit it. And so the game played on.
Come Sunday, I decided it was time to conduct damage control. We had by that time forgiven each other via phone, but she was still hurt. So, I drove from Harmony to the cities, surprising her (even though I left a message saying I was coming up. She never checks her messages). What followed was a lot of make-up sex, which is always just really great sex. During make-up sex, it's like you just try harder, or enjoy it more, or whatever. It's just really good sex.
We didn't mention the fight. We just both knew we were wrong and that it was just best to move past the whole dumb deal.
It was just so fucking stupid.
