Category: Wyatt’s Words

Volume One of Wyatt’s Lascivious Lavatory Ladventures!

I’ve been stuck in the literally uncomfortable position of having to use a women’s bathroom at a Starbucks twice today.

I have nothing against women’s bathrooms. I’m used to them. My protective mother took me into them until I was probably about 12.

Spoiler alert: they’re not necessarily cleaner or more comfortable than your average comparable men’s restroom. So guys—you ain’t missing out on much. Really nice department stores have couches in them though, and fuck that shit, because I want a place in my-gendered bathroom where I can sit without my buttocks touching a latrine.

Back to today.

Starbucks, or at least most of the ones I frequent, have this awful habit of having separately-gendered restrooms. While I have nothing against this on its face—most of these represent the double-sided comfort room conundrum of evil: the dreaded single-gendered single-use restroom.

What does this mean?

Me, doing the potty dance waiting for the one-holer men’s room at Starbucks to be rendered vacant by the guy who is probably evacuating an aircraft carrier’s worth of shit.

I’m left with the decision every man, fake woman, and tranny has faced at many points in their life: should I just use the women’s room?

The answer is frequently: yes.

And so it was today. I furtively glanced left, then right, then left again, then darted into the restroom with the beskirted sign on the door.

It was glorious. Golden shower enthusiasts would have written paeans to the stream of relief I triumphantly emptied forth.

Without washing my hands (that’s for Volume Two) I exited the restroom, contented and successful.

But 12 hours later, I was faced with the same challenge.

This one was more complex: multi-stall restroom, all occupied by homeless dudes.

I started to get that feeling that even if one finished, I really wouldn’t want to use that stall or station anyway.

I did the left-right-left again. It’s 4AM. Women’s restroom is right there. Nobody can see.

And as soon as I reached the doorhandle, BAM.

Caught.

I stared like a deer in Freightliner lights.

The female barista said, “I caughtchoo!”

I did the full-bladder-back-and-forth and gesturmumbled towards the clearly occupied men’s room.

She repeated again, “I caughtchoo!”, like I was the legendary Pokemon of her childhood that was always a step ahead of her. Judging by her figure, a Snorlax could be a step ahead of her, but I digress.

She went on: “but that’s okay. Just remember to knock.”

There were approximately one women at Starbucks at this hour and I asked her to watch my stuff, so unless some bitch was giving birth in there, I’m pretty sure it was unoccupied.

Blobarella kindly let me in and I greedily bumrushed forward, feeling that oh-so-sweet-relief of half-a-day prior.

Clearly, this is one of the major unaddressed problems of our time, maybe second to Iran getting a nuclear weapon, but definitely up there.

As President, I will mandate that all new bathrooms be unisex and individual. Think this is radical? George Bush Sr. pushed for and signed the Americans with Disabilities Act, which mandated that one stall in the bathroom be approximately the size of a well-appointed Buick. If he can grow each bathroom by 87%, then I sure as hell can divide them up and de-gender them. The transgendered will love this and hopefully overlook my disparaging comments about their tucking-under kind despite my delight for their twisted humor. This will end the problem of having to hear a stranger grunt one out like they’re elbowcrawling through a trench in ‘Nam. And it will decimate the number of creepers who try to solicit you behind porcelain walls (Volume Three will have a story about that).

My opponents will say I’m supported in this measure by Big Door. What can I say? I like those big usually-wooden things that open and close. But I am not beholden to corporate titans like Schlage and Kwikset. In fact, I’m boosting the economy and secretly pre-investing in these companies before they’re flooded with huge demand.

So vote for me: I’ll make your elimination experience a pleasant one. And stay tuned for more installments of the award-winning* series, “Wyatt’s Lascivious Lavatory Ladventures!”

Now that the government is shut down and you’re all still alive, isn’t it a strange feeling about just how much of the government is non-essential?  (P.S.–you’re paying for all of it too!)

It makes you wonder: where the hell has the money been going all this time?

A viral (hate that word) video circulating on UpWorthy (BuzzFeed for the profoundly retarded) shows a Democratic congressman throwing a shitfit because the House Rules Committee…set the rules.

UpWorthy called the video, “Congress Did Something So Spectacularly Creepy That It’s Too Unbelievable To Make Up”, ignoring the fact that there’s nothing more spectacularly creepy than the pop-ups that assault you everytime you go to their site.

*no UpWorthy, I disagree, blow me

Now, I wasn’t there, mostly because it happened at midnight which is 9PM my time and I was far too busy watching Real Housewives (Teresa finally admitted blame!) but here’s what went down:

As the clock approached midnight, the Democratic Senate wanted to force the Republican House to shutdown the government—by not passing the House bill that funded the government and defunded Obamacare—and instead tried to shoehorn in their own bill.

The Republican House asked the Democrat Senate to come to conference committee* and the Democrat Senate refused–in order to punt away responsibility from them and the President having to pass the bill to fund the government already passed in the house.

*Remember, bills are passed in the House AND the Senate before going to the President and since both houses usually come up with separate bills, they come to conference to hammer out the differences.

The Republican House called the Senate’s bluff: there’s a House rule (Rule XXII…missing just one X from being interesting!) that a vote can be privileged (i.e, anyone can call for a vote). Democrats in the House would have called for a vote in the House on the Senate bill–which would have failed and the government would have shut down. But hey, then the President and Democratic Senate can blame the House and Republicans!

So the House Rules Committee altered the rule–that on this bill amendment, instead of coming to a fruitless and pointless vote, that the House Majority Leader (Eric Cantor, R-VA) is directly asking for the House and Senate to come to committee and avert the shutdown.

Don’t believe me? Here’s the rule, H. Res. 368:

SEC. 1. Resolved, That the House hereby (1) takes from the
Speaker’s table the joint resolution (H.J. Res. 59) making
continuing appropriations for fiscal year 2014, and for
other purposes, with the House amendment to the Senate
amendment thereto, (2) insists on its amendment, and (3)
requests a conference with the Senate thereon.

SEC. 2. Any motion pursuant to clause 4 of rule XXII
relating to House Joint Resolution 59 may be offered only
by the Majority Leader or his designee.

The Congressman Umadbro? waited a week for news coverage of the shutdown to pass and for the perfect opportunity to grandstand, complete with big graphics:

“What people don’t know is that [the Republicans] rigged the rules of the House to keep the government shut down,” Rep. Chris Van Hollen (D-MD), ranking member of the House Budget Committee, told TPM in an interview.

No, the Republicans changed the rule in order to avert the shutdown (you think someone in Congress would know how the damn rules worked…)

“This is a blatant effort to make sure that the Senate bill did not come up for a vote.”

This was an effort to put together a joint bill in conference that would have passed both houses and been signed by the President (or vetoed and overridden, in case the President really wanted to keep the government shutdown.  Spoiler alert: he does).

TalkingPointsMemo says:

At that point, Democrats say, they could have joined with moderate Republicans in approving the motion and then in passing the clean Senate bill, averting a shutdown.

Democrats didn’t join with moderate Republicans to pass Obamacare in the first place, passing the bill with an unprecedented party-line vote. So why would they cross the aisle to prevent a shutdown?

Answer is: they wouldn’t. The Senate bill would not have passed and the government would have shut down with two houses and two different bills.

So which party wants to work together–and which one doesn’t?

• The Republicans offered to defund the mess that is Obamacare and start over—saving Democrats from having to face the consequences of one of their self-created disasters. The Democrats said no.
• The Republicans urged Democrats to join them and avert the shutdown. The Democrats said no.
• The Republicans changed the rules to force the houses to come together and avert the shutdown. The Democrats said no.

Now, Democrats are just sitting around eating sour grapes, upset that people are discovering that Obamacare is failing, upset that people don’t want Obamacare, upset that the government and country are functioning just fine without non-essential employees, upset that people are realizing just how damn much money the government wastes, and upset that Obama has a lower approval rating than Bush ever did.

So they’re lashing out. They’re refusing to pass bills to fund treatment for kids with cancer. They’re comparing Republicans to suicide bombers, kidnappers, and arsonists. They’re making Ted Cruz into the devil for doing the same thing Wendy Davis did in Texas to fight for abortion rights. And they’re spinning tales about Republicans crowning Eric Cantor as King Shutdown keeping his thumb down on the government’s neck.

Adam Mordecai of UpWorthy ends with this little gem to his “viral” article:

Here’s the thing. Democrats are not always right. Neither are Republicans. The political system is messed up from top to bottom. But this is just crazy. The guy in charge of the GOP can’t end the shutdown.

Translated: Democrats are not always right.  I’m sure they’ve messed up once!  Republicans are never right, and probably evil.  Let’s blame the system for this.  This is just crazy–Congress can set rules?  The Speaker of the House can’t wave a wand to end the shutdown?  He must be evil too!

It shouldn’t matter what party does it. This is nuts. You could share this if you want to help apply pressure to end the shutdown and the dangerous game that is playing out right now. Totally up to you though.

It matters what party does this.  This is nuts.  You could share this if you want to inform your friends about how they’re being lied to, screwed over, and marginalized by a Democratic-led government that wants to give them phony health insurance that covers nothing (just WAIT till you guys get the bill!), lock them out of national parks that their tax dollars pay for, take as much as possible out of their paychecks (if they can even find a job these days), and ensure that there will be no pension when they need it and no student loans when their kids are going off to college.

Totally up to you though.

There really is no more awesome feeling than finding cash in your pocket. It’s like a little gift to yourself, that crumpled little wad of singles you probably swiped from the stripper’s g-string when she was getting motorboated by Fat Frank.

In fact, the only feeling that’s more awesome is finding money on the ground. Because then it’s basically manna from heaven (or it fell out of someone’s purse or pocket or something but they left this location like 5 hours ago and really don’t give a damn about the dollar with oil marks in the donut shop parking lot).

One time I found a 5-dollar bill, which was pretty much the best day of my life. I’m rather certain I’ve lost more than 5 dollars over the course of my life, but every cent towards the black counts.

trust no bitch

My hometown college football coach, according to his wife, used to be so obsessed with luck he’d only pick up heads-up pennies the week before the big game. Apparently if they were tails-up, it meant he’d get assassinated at a theatre or something, I don’t know, I never really thought that one through.

and then he said to me: “but mrs. lincoln…how was the play?”

There’s no more rich feeling than seeing a penny or a nickel (or for you trustfunders, a dime) on the ground and not picking it up, mentally thinking that the effort required to pick up that coin is more than the value of the coin.

I think I did that for a few months in college, but I felt like a huge douche making it rain (dropping 7 cents by accident out of my pocket) and then not picking it up, waiting for the peasants to collect it. After I got a job I would tilt my body 35 degrees towards the ground to ensure I found change.

Carrying around cash feels delightful. Carrying around coins feels cumbersome and street-pauperish. People give you strange looks when you come clanging down the street, noticeably stepping a few paces back in anticipation of nasty BO or solicitation for whatever’s in their pockets.

In these economic times, chances are that they’re gonna keep what they’ve got in there.

Jesus commanded people to give to the poor. From what little of the Bible I remember, I think a widow with last-season’s Céline bag (TWO strikes) gave him her last cent, and he later told the story.

finally: a purse with a facial expression that reflects its pouting bitch owner

I also give to the poor. I don’t care for thanks or rewards but I’m willing to help a brotha out.

But then again, I live in Los Angeles, where the poor mysteriously have more money than I do.

At the Wilshire and Federal intersection by my old apartment, there would be, without fail, someone asking for money from the cars coming from Brentwood towards the 405 in the left turn lane. And since it was next to the VA, many would have signs saying that they were homeless veterans who needed help.

So it was easy to sympathize, and everyone I gave money to was polite and thankful.

Then one day, I was walking home when I noticed three of the usual beggars texting each other and laughing on a bench outside the Wells Fargo tower.

What in the actual fuck?

Here I am, scrimping to make sure I can pay my phone bill every month, and these bastards are flagrantly, shamelessly using smartphones while taking a break from asking for money.

I should have known better.

Back home in Fresno, there was a guy with a wheeled walker who could barely stand up and parked himself on the corner where people turned out of the Vons parking lot, with a VA ID card taped to his sign. It was an area frequented by soccer moms and the well-to-do leaving the nearby car wash—strategic.

The real heartbreaking thing was that he would creakily stand up and salute each car passing by.

Even my tiny, mythical, vestigial heart broke.

As I pulled up and watched him give his trademark salute, I pulled out a $20 and handed it across the window to him. I felt that, out of every beggar I’ve ever considered donating to, this man deserved it in spades.

He mumbled a half-hearted thanks, and proceeded to brag about how someone leaving the car wash gave him $1000 last week. He recanted how he frequently received $100 bills too, ending with a definitive statement of just how well-off he was.

Had he pulled his elastic waistband and tighty-not-so-whiteys down and taken a diarrhea-textured shit on the side of my car, I’d have been less disgusted.

I mustered a scowl and pulled the window up, watching him continue to pull his con on subsequent cars through my rearview mirror.

I never saw him again, and I’m afraid that if I did, I’d push him and his wheelchair directly into traffic in anger.

But back to LA.

I walked up to the Starbucks counter from my laptop at around 230AM this week to get a small sausage biscuit. I needed a little stomach-lining because the coffee was burning through to my pancreas.

As I’m paying, a guy walks up to me out of nowhere and asks, “Hey man, can you give me some money for a cup of coffee?” He was going to keep talking but I cut him off with “no, sorry, I don’t have any money, thanks”. Normally I would’ve let him finish, but something about his vibe was just…off. Not like he was crazy, just that he seemed untrustworthy.

I felt a quick wave of ‘bad’. I could have scanned in my free refill and given it to him, and it really wouldn’t have cost me anything. Oh well, it was too late, he walked away.

But sure enough, I turn around and see him slink back to his new laptop, where he was playing Bejeweled with his new Xplod boombox underneath his new Adidas sneakers.

Here I am, typing on an external keyboard on my 4-year-old Mac because I can’t afford to replace the actual one which broke, and this goddamn sonofabitch has the fucking nerve to ask me to buy him a cup of coffee.

I wish there was a heavily-trafficked, high-speed boulevard big enough for me to push this asshole and GI Dick and the Cellphone Triplets and all these other panhandling pricks into. You all hurt people who legitimately need money and are actually homeless and in need of assistance. And you’ve turned this gent with a heart of gold into a pessimist with a heart of rock.

 

Jesus commanded people to give to the poor. From what little of the Bible I remember, I think a widow with last-season’s Céline bag (TWO strikes) gave him her last cent, and he later told the story.

finally: a purse with a facial expression that reflects its pouting bitch owner

I also give to the poor. I don’t care for thanks or rewards but I’m willing to help a brotha out.

But then again, I live in Los Angeles, where the poor mysteriously have more money than I do.

At the Wilshire and Federal intersection by my old apartment, there would be, without fail, someone asking for money from the cars coming from Brentwood towards the 405 in the left turn lane. And since it was next to the VA, many would have signs saying that they were homeless veterans who needed help.

So it was easy to sympathize, and everyone I gave money to was polite and thankful.

Then one day, I was walking home when I noticed three of the usual beggars texting each other and laughing on a bench outside the Wells Fargo tower.

What in the actual fuck?

Here I am, scrimping to make sure I can pay my phone bill every month, and these bastards are flagrantly, shamelessly using smartphones while taking a break from asking for money.

I should have known better.

Back home in Fresno, there was a guy with a wheeled walker who could barely stand up and parked himself on the corner where people turned out of the Vons parking lot, with a VA ID card taped to his sign. It was an area frequented by soccer moms and the well-to-do leaving the nearby car wash—strategic.

The real heartbreaking thing was that he would creakily stand up and salute each car passing by.

Even my tiny, mythical, vestigial heart broke.

As I pulled up and watched him give his trademark salute, I pulled out a $20 and handed it across the window to him. I felt that, out of every beggar I’ve ever considered donating to, this man deserved it in spades.

He mumbled a half-hearted thanks, and proceeded to brag about how someone leaving the car wash gave him $1000 last week. He recanted how he frequently received $100 bills too, ending with a definitive statement of just how well-off he was.

Had he pulled his elastic waistband and tighty-not-so-whiteys down and taken a diarrhea-textured shit on the side of my car, I’d have been less disgusted.

I mustered a scowl and pulled the window up, watching him continue to pull his con on subsequent cars through my rearview mirror.

I never saw him again, and I’m afraid that if I did, I’d push him and his wheelchair directly into traffic in anger.

But back to LA.

I walked up to the Starbucks counter from my laptop at around 230AM this week to get a small sausage biscuit. I needed a little stomach-lining because the coffee was burning through to my pancreas.

As I’m paying, a guy walks up to me out of nowhere and asks, “Hey man, can you give me some money for a cup of coffee?” He was going to keep talking but I cut him off with “no, sorry, I don’t have any money, thanks”. Normally I would’ve let him finish, but something about his vibe was just…off. Not like he was crazy, just that he seemed untrustworthy.

I felt a quick wave of ‘bad’. I could have scanned in my free refill and given it to him, and it really wouldn’t have cost me anything. Oh well, it was too late, he walked away.

But sure enough, I turn around and see him slink back to his new laptop, where he was playing Bejeweled with his new Xplod boombox underneath his new Adidas sneakers.

Here I am, typing on an external keyboard on my 4-year-old Mac because I can’t afford to replace the actual one which broke, and this goddamn sonofabitch has the fucking nerve to ask me to buy him a cup of coffee.

I wish there was a heavily-trafficked, high-speed boulevard big enough for me to push this asshole and GI Dick and the Cellphone Triplets and all these other panhandling pricks into. You all hurt people who legitimately need money and are actually homeless and in need of assistance. And you’ve turned this gent with a heart of gold into a pessimist with a heart of rock.

 

Do you guys remember that meme that circulated around the 2008 election?

If you get an email that says ‘Nude Photos of Sarah Palin’, don’t open it because it could be a virus.

If you get an email that says ‘Nude Photos of Hillary Clinton’, don’t open it.

It could actually be nude photos of Hillary Clinton.

Thank you ladies and gentlemen, and good night.

…

But it seems at long last, Hillary is cutting loose a little bit.

I don’t mean wearing skimpy swimwear like she did in her Wellesley days.

Pictured: Who wants to scissor with THIS slice of Middle American pie?!

I also don’t mean getting completely fucking hammered when her campaign was deader than C. Everett Koop.

*one confused laugh from the back of the audience*

I mean she’s literally breaking the law (again, not counting obstruction of justice, Whitewater, the Rose Law Firm days, etc).

Parking and any-potential-masturbatory-climax-violator Hillary Clinton commandeered her $100,000 Mercedes S-Class and fleet of vans smack-dab in the middle of a St. James Square carpark in Mayfair (referred to as a ‘bay’ by British people who clearly don’t know simple fucking geography. You can’t park a car in the middle of a body of water, ya dumb limeys!)

The offense?

Bitch didn’t pay for the spot.

So a local traffic warden did what he does best—issued a ticket.

HISTORY, please note that this is the first and only time I will side on behalf of a parking ticket writer.

Of course the Secret Service jumped out of their vans, because hell, that ticket could’ve been a one-way ticket to Anthrax City, but were unable to deter the steely-eyed traffic warden.

Daniel Astaire, a Westminster City Council Member, remarked in traditional British deadpan:

The former US Secretary of State was parked for nearly 45 minutes without paying. I’m sure she will understand that we have to be fair to everyone, regardless of their status on the world stage.
For future reference, Mrs Clinton can now also download a parking app for her iPhone which will tell her in real time where a parking space is in the City of Westminster.

This isn’t the only example of Hillary’s newfound reckless streak.

At a meeting of the National Association of Convenience Stores in Georgia where Hillary was the keynote speaker (ironic coming from the woman who once said):

I love this quote. It’s from Mahatma Gandhi. He ran a gas station down in St. Louis for a couple of years. Mr. Gandhi, do you still go to the gas station? A lot of wisdom comes out of that gas station.

…Hillary threw MAJOR SHADE at Vice-President Biden, her former colleague:

“she was asked about the Osama bin Laden raid. She took 25 minutes to answer,” Taylor said. “Without turning the knife too deeply, she put it to [Vice President Joe] Biden.”
Time and time again, Taylor said, Clinton mentioned the vice president’s opposition to the raid, while characterizing herself and Leon Panetta, then director of the Central Intelligence Agency, as the action’s most fierce advocates.

Basically, Hillary called Biden a “goddamn pussy” for being against killing bin Laden.

It seems the 2016 election has already started. Let’s hope ‘Hillary Gone Wild’ doesn’t have any nipslips or leaked sexts to help her get closer to the younger crowd.

Craig Mazin has probably the worst self-created resume of any man who isn’t Charles Manson: screenwriter of Scary Movie 3 and 4 and Hangover III.

He was also Senator Ted Cruz’s freshman year roommate at Princeton.

lookin sharp, kid

He had some not-so-nice shit to shovel about Sen. Cruz as a college kid earlier this year, revealing stunning facts: he wore a bathrobe! he talked to the ladies! he was on the debate team!

If everyone had a megaphone with which to talk about their freshman roommates, I’m sure they could find something to bitch about. I’ll bet even the guy who shared a bed (IT WAS A DIFFERENT TIME OK) with young Illinois lawyer Abraham Lincoln would complain about Dutch ovens and forgetting to chop logs for the fire.

But now the clearly skilled screenwriter of modern classics like Citizen Kane Scary Movie 4 is back in the headlines with more revelations about Citizen Cruz:

When Ted Cruz was my roommate, he’d endlessly hit the snooze button. I asked him to stop. He wouldn’t. So I Krazy-glued it. #learnfromthis

Translation: I got catty because the alarm went off. Kitty has claws!

Two people locked in stony silence? One of whom had SERIOUS body odor issues? Who was the one who was not me? Okay. It’s your TV.

Ooh, cunty! If this douche told me I stank I’d shove an Axe can in his chakra.

I begged them for a different room or roommate. Begged. They didn’t understand then. They do now.

If I was then-freshman Cruz, I’d do the same with this psychopath sleeping a few feet away from me.

@clmazin you poor thing. You should win a Nobel Peace Prize for putting up with assclown Ted Cruz
@ihveanaddiction Not good enough. I deserve the Earth. All of it. Forty eleventy million billion trillion dollars. And a rocket ship.

Breaking news: liberal assclown whines that he deserves everything for being SUCH a special snowflake.

@clmazin Freshman year, did you ever think it would be Cruz who’d try to destroy America?
@isaactalks I was young and naive and thought voters weren’t complete brain dead.

Sen. Cruz, in your freshman year, did you ever think it would be Craig Mazin who’d try to destroy film?

Sen Cruz: “I was young and naïve and thought producers weren’t complete [sic] brain dead.”

What you see before you now is EXACTLY who he was back then. He does not change. The way zombies and mold don’t change.

Welp Craig, seems like you’re still an asshole, so things really don’t change.

The makeup industry exists for a reason—to make women both look and feel prettier.

Let’s face it—have you ever seen a woman in the morning with no makeup? It’s like looking directly into the Predator’s bunghole.

(pictured: the “Part of Me” Katy Perry will never ever let you take away from her)

Here’s a tip to the guys: marry a woman who you think is beautiful without makeup. Trust me. Unless she’s a clown, you’ll spend more time seeing her without makeup than with makeup–so you may as well both enjoy it.

The following woman took a picture of herself with no makeup and uploaded it to Reddit. And after looking at it, she deserves the Nobel Prize for bravery more than the “Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons” (who apparently can’t find Syria on a map) and that poor girl who was shot by the Taliban (shit, 50 Cent didn’t get no Nobel Prize for getting shot by thugs).

Before you women get your panties in a bunch, I’m not a huge fan of the numbers system because there are no standard measurements and your weird friends always have 9s and 10s because they’re into “athletic girls” (read: chicks with abs) or “Asian chicks” (read: massage parlor handjobs) or “athletic Asian girls” (read: Strap-on City). But I can safely call this girl a 4.

Now, look at her with makeup.

I can now safely say this girl doubled her rating with a few minutes at the mirror, so let’s say she’s an 8.

But not everyone is comfortable with that, and by “not everyone” I mean some bitchy dude who sounds like he got an unwelcome surprise in one of those Bangkok bars:

Reddit user plokoonismyfave initiated the war of words when he wrote: ‘The left is uglier than the right, but beauty is subjective. The right is her wearing a (figurative and literal) mask.’

plokoonismyfave pointed out the fact that a man who artificially altered his appearance would be seen in a negative light, too.
‘If a guy wore prosthetic muscles under a long-sleeve shirt (à la Superman costumes), you would likely feel as if you had been deceived, regardless of what you thought of the person,’ he wrote.

He then went on to accuse the woman in the photo of disguising her insecurites with cosmetics.
‘The girl in the photo is apparently not satisfied with the way she looks without makeup,’ he said, ‘and uses makeup to artificially portray a person more people would find attractive.’

You can’t make a call on beauty but then claim that it’s subjective.

You also can’t compare this to a guy wearing prosthetic muscles. I’m no mathematician, but I can assure you the prosthetic muscle industry remains well behind the makeup industry. It’s like claiming that you’re mad the dog peed on the lawn and backing it up by saying “I’d also be mad if a giraffe peed on my lawn!”

Third of all, the girl is a makeup artist, so it’s her job. If she worked as a seamstress and also sewed herself a dress, you wouldn’t claim that she is disguising her insecurities with fabric and using thread to artificially portray a person more people would find attractive.

There’s nothing worse than male concern-trolls, also known as Male Feminists.

These are the guys who support abortion (it’s a woman’s right to choose!) to get laid, despite the fact that more men support it than women (shouldn’t women be making decisions about their own bodies?).

The guys who bullshit about “natural beauty” but still jack to Megan Fox.

The guys who are all about the pointless 70-cents-on-the-dollar statistic on women’s earnings and then wonder why you didn’t hand-bleach their shit-stained tighty-whities for them.

I am not one of those men, so like our President would say, “let me be clear”.

Ladies, makeup can turn you from a 4 to an 8. You know it, other women know it, and guys know it. Let’s not fool ourselves and pretend that by wearing makeup you’re hiding a secret boner you’ll surprise us with back at the Motel 6.

Because obviously I’d opt for the Red Roof Inn.

UPDATE 9/15: Obviously, The Daily Mail picked up on this piece (I’m flattered guys, really) and released an article today showing how a St. Petersburg makeup artists transformed some pretty average looking Russian women into complete supermodels.  Worth a look/fap.

I’m getting a little nostalgic for the days when everyone hated Bush.

I don’t mean merely disliked. I mean hated.

Like when the Chicks with Dicks or whatever they’re called slammed him on a London stage. (Courage!)

The running argument was always that Bush was an idiot.

Also that he was a powerhungry mastermind.

Well, which is it? You can’t be a Bond villain and also be retarded.

Sure their plans were always foiled in the end by this dude:

(who knew that “Sean Connery” was Scottish for “mankini”?)

but at least they were smart enough to be on the verge of taking over the world.

Plus, there was always the meme that Cheney was the REAL puppetmaster, the “shadow President”, the guy who called the shots while Tard-in-Chief played with colored blocks.

A new article in the New York Times (your number ONE source for anti-Bush bullshit!) just dropped quietly, like a queef in an F5 tornado, and guess what it says?

1) Bush’s approval rating is currently at 49%. Not only is that higher than our President, it’s over double what it was when Bush was out of office and, for the first time, more people like Bush than dislike him.

If I were President Obama’s chief of staff, I would have this laminated on a Science-Fair-sized posterboard and have it hung across from his Oval Office desk surrounded by Klieg lights. How bad do you have to fuck up your job that people become nostalgic for the guy you replaced because he was so damn hated? You could literally show up and do nothing but play Candy Crush at every press conference and still do better than what you’ve done.

*apparently we do

2) Cheney held little to no influence over Bush, from his reluctance to take the job as VP (his job was to pick someone else to be VP) to his reluctance to do it again (he even found a replacement) to his persistent silence during meetings and the fact that he was entirely ignored for half of Bush’s presidency—eventually barely being able to have a damn conversation with him.

In other words—Cheney was one of the least-powerful Vice-Presidents in history. He knew it and so did all of Bush’s advisors.

And of all people, only one person exploited it: Condoleezza Rice.

Yes, the soft-spoken Stanford alum was quietly the most powerful person in the Bush administration.

So stuff that in your history pipe and smoke it.

(not you, Lamar! Remember what Whitney said—crack is wack. Just ask her…oh wait. Crap. *returns crack pipe to a visibly pissed Lamar Odom*)

And of course this little parting gem:

3) “At another point, he tried on a Darth Vader mask his aides had bought and posed for a picture. When he later tried to put the picture in his memoir, his wife, Lynne, talked him out of it.

Dick Cheney: he’s just like your goofy, stuck-in-middle-management dad.

If you went to someone in 1992 and told them that the daughter of the Achy Breaky Heart singer would cause more controversy than a war or a government shutdown, you would’ve been burned as a heretic, and rightfully so.

But lo, it was a simpler time, and we should’ve known that any man who has the power to make a mullet temporarily fashionable has the power to rule the world.

Flash forward 21 years and “we can’t stop” talking about Miley Cyrus. *laughs at self, chokes on pretzel, keels over.*

(more on him in the next post)

And by “we” I don’t use the royal “we”, I really mean “you”.

Yes, you motherfuckers keep talking about this starving Eastern European teenage boy and now I have to divert attention I normally pay to which hotel soap I want to use for my nightly bath (certified organic basil) to this bizarre and unbecoming “lady”.

Forget the VMAs. Those weren’t controversial.

Me playing the fiddle with nothing but my genitalia on the Santa Monica Pier is controversial.

Dear parents: Miley danced on TV the same ways your young daughters have been dancing in middle school for over a decade. The only way they “left room for Jesus” is if they were running a train with a guy named Jesús.

I knew nothing good would come of BatBoy. Miley Cyrus brought upon the end of my Disney Channel watching when they kept running promos for this mysterious “Hannah Montana” figure as quality shows like That’s So Raven and The Famous Jett Jackson ended. (Conspiracy theory: Miley killed the Jett Jackson guy because she wanted to be ‘edgy’. Print that in your papers, W.R. Hearst!)

Is she a good role model?

Does a bear shit in the woods?

(Now that the government is shutdown and parks are closed, we may have to wait awhile on an answer to that one.)

Of course Miley Cyrus is a good role model—of what not to do. I think young girls are smart enough to realize that if you keep flashing your A-cups that people will think you stopped being ‘provocative’ and ‘sexy’ and started being ‘slutty’ and ‘herpes-plagued’.

Is that slut-shaming?

I sure hope it is.

So it was with this mindset combined with a metric shit-ton of articles across the Internet and commentators wringing their hands and scolding Miley that I chose to ignore the fuck out of her “Wrecking Ball” song.

Despite my hermetically-sealed world, an infiltrator arrived in the form of a best friend who played the damn song through my car auxiliary jack and didn’t tell me who it was (and didn’t answer my peppering of questions asking as much).

I guessed correctly one verse in but she didn’t fess up, like OJ taking off in the Bronco but claiming innocence all the way.

Like a weird German adult flick (how did Germans get this reputation, btw? I bet whatever’s left of Austro-Hungarians are also coprophiles, but I digress) you know where this is going.

I liked the song.

She doesn’t have much of a voice, but she really makes the most of her quarter-of-an-octave range and creates a song that’s strangely melodic. It’s the same feeling you get after watching ‘Das Scheiße’: strangely satisfied yet rotten inside.

Also: she trolled you idiots with the video. She made two: the one where she unsuccessfully attempts to make construction equipment sexy (Benny Benassi did a MUCH better job at that a decade ago) and this one which you haven’t seen.

Go watch it. Drop what you’re doing—cleaning the kitchen (reheating a Pop Tart) doing laundry (sniffing your thrice-worn sweats) homework (facebook) and sex (facebook) and just watch the damn video, will you please?

Don’t worry, I’ll wait *puts your laundry in your dishwasher, changes your facebook status to “fart”*

See? Wasn’t that better? Look at the views. Less than 5% of viewers of that video compared to the ball-humping extravaganza.

It’s like Supreme Court Justice Scalia writing a devastating dissent but getting notoriety for wiping his ass with it at the bench.

Here’s your takeaway lesson: people are gonna do what they’re gonna do and they’re not gonna apologize.

Scalia will defend the Constitution as it was written and doesn’t give a shit what you think.

Miley will shake her concave ass and straddle the progeny of the dad from Growing Pains.

And I’ll be Kickstarting my skin flute career on the Santa Monica Pier.

*the first decade of the 2000s, in a single photograph

*P.S. Wrecking Ball is about anal, right?