American politics is one of the most often discussed, and least understood, topics in our society today. I concede that my knowledge of the government’s inner workings and policies is minimal; but the big difference between me a lot of other people is that I will voluntarily plead ignorance when something goes beyond my understanding. It seems like more and more U.S. citizens have strong opinions just for the sake of having them, thereby giving the illusion that they are informed on a given issue. This is comparable to the old rap line that has been repeated in numerous songs, “You talkin’ loud, but ain’t sayin’ shit.” You will hear those who identify themselves as Democrats contend that Republicans are arrogant, rich elitists who are stuck in the past. Republicans claim Democrats are liberal pansies who are opening up this country to terrorists while turning towards socialism. Independents probably (I’ve yet to meet anyone who admits to being affiliated with this political party) believe that the other two can’t do anything to help the country, because they are too busy arguing over anything and everything. And you know what? They are all right if you make sweeping judgments about the groups as a whole, which are based on the actions or words of a few who are talkin’ louder than the others.
An example of our blissful ignorance when it comes to politics took place this past weekend in Washington D.C. at Glenn Beck’s highly publicized “Restoring Honor” rally. The event raised money for a non-profit organization for military veterans – which is commendable – and was touted as a “values-and-patriotism event to restore honor in America,” as well as “a celebration of America’s heroes and heritage.” While I tend to agree with Beck (just typing that made me vomit in my mouth a little) in thinking our country has deteriorated, we differ greatly on the perceived causes of this downfall. He seems to believe all of our problems will go away if we as a nation turn back to our faith in God. I believe religion – like political affiliation – is yet another thing that further divides people, and discounts the multitude of similarities and experiences we share as human beings. Beck thinks our freedoms are being taken away, and that we have strayed away from our country’s roots. I think freedom is now more of a state of mind, and a brief history lesson reveals that our roots are filled with delusions of manifest destiny and genocide.
I will also give Beck credit for publicly promoting this rally as a non-political event, even though that’s an unusual – and shady – decision considering his fame is derived from televised, tear-infused political diatribes. But after watching the following video, it looks like some of the attendees at the rally didn’t get the memo. Yes, I know that everyone who is interviewed in the video is handpicked, and realize it’s edited to illustrate only the dumbest and least articulate individuals in Washington D.C. at Beckapalooza. They only comprise a very small sample size, and unfairly shed a negative light on everyone else who was present. Having said that, it still represents one of the single biggest factors affecting our society – that being pure, unadulterated ignorance. Some may watch this video and automatically think I am a card-carrying Democrat, or a liberal, fascist commie who loves Barack Obama. But the truth is that idiots come from all different walks of life, and have varying opinions on our government – it just so happened that some of them chose to open themselves up for scrutiny by giving an interview at this particular gathering:
Posted Under: WTF
This post was written by Silky Johnson on September 1, 2010
Yesterday marked the end of August, and also wrapped up the Big Think’s “Month of Thinking Dangerously” series. Over the course of 31 days, the site posed questions and possible solutions on topics ranging from legalizing all drugs, to changing weather patterns with the aid of lasers. Yesterday’s final big idea centered around a growing problem in the United States, both literally and figuratively. I’m talking about our bloated brethren across the country who think exer-cise is some new meal deal upgrade at McDonald’s that comes with a bucket of fries and 132 oz. soda. Writer Andrew McDermott explores one option to curb their collective appetites in the form of a fat fee, or butterball bill if you will. This doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, especially when you consider the fact that there are starving people everywhere, and we have a sanctioned competitive eating organization. But if I had to guess, I’m betting this taxation with food inhalation wouldn’t go over too well with many of the Tea Party members.
If Americans were paid to eat less and exercise more they might be motivated to lose some weight—and save us a bundle on health care—says Dr. Barry M. Popkin, director of University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill’s Interdisciplinary Center for Obesity.
According to a report released by the Center for Disease Control this month, 26.7% Americans are obese and they’re only getting fatter. “The statistics have become rote, but consider that people in their 50s are about 20 pounds heavier on average than 50-somethings were in the late 1970s,” wrote economics journalist David Leonhardt…”As a convenient point of reference, a typical car tire weighs 20 pounds.”
Obesity is defined by having a Body Mass Index (BMI) of over 30…By state, obesity prevalence ranges from 18.6% in Colorado to 34.4% in Mississippi…To make matters worse, these rates rely on self-reported height and weight data, which likely produces underestimates because both men and women tend to overestimate their height and women tend to underestimate their weight.
“From a societal standpoint, if a third to a half of Americans weren’t so fat, the idea of the government providing tax incentives for the obese to eat less and exercise more wouldn’t be so controversial,” Dr. Popkin told Big Think, “In 1955, if you’d thought about taxing cigarettes you would have been run off the planet.”
Popkin proposes two possible ways of using taxes to motivate people to lose weight. His first policy suggestion is to demand that anyone with a BMI greater than 30 who receives Medicare, Medicaid or government administered health care pay a fee if they are unwilling to prove they’ve undertaken a few predetermined exercise activities or show that they are consciously watching what they consume. Popkin admits that taxing bad behavior is different and more challenging than placing a tax on consumers products like cigarettes and alcohol, but he says there are technologies available that could enable the government to monitor obese people’s diets and exercise.
“We have devices that we could put on your throat that could measure your swallows,” Popkin explains. “We have devices now to measure how much you move, so we can see when people are engaged in activity like walking or jogging. He even suggests that obese people could wear ankle bracelets or collars similar to those used to monitor DUI felons and people on probation to prove that despite their high BMI, they’re active and eating properly. “If Americans are going to be serious about losing weight,” says Popkin, “then they need something that’s serious.”
If the idea of asking obese people to prove that they’re exercising and eating well, or else face a tax, sounds far too Orwellian, Popkin’s second suggestion is to make all Americans pay an additional flat-tax of, say, $100 a person per year, to build a pool of money which is then returned to people who either have a BMI lower than 30 or have somehow proven that they’re dieting and exercising. Popkin points to corporate weight-loss programs, in which employees are rewarded with cash for partaking in exercising, dieting, and smoking-cessation programs, as an example of how there are already versions of what might be considered a “fat tax” being administered not just in America, but around the globe.
Within a couple of weeks of each other, this site inducted former Marine Corp drill instructor-turned-actor R. Lee Ermey into the Hater Hall of Fame, and featured a brilliant mash-up video that combined Pulp Fiction with beloved Disney characters. Now, in what can only be described as a serendipitous coincidence, Ermey’s most memorable scene in Full Metal Jacket is given the Disney treatment in this newest video from a YouTuber known as “Dingdangler.” I never imagined a person threatening to poke another person’s eyes out and sodomize their skull could sound so damn delightful.
(The sound effect around the :49 second mark is the scene stealer in my opinion):
Posted Under: This Doesn't Suck
This post was written by Silky Johnson on August 31, 2010
I cannot resist to share with you what is being shared with me in this wating room in which I currently find myself. Since I’ve usually been the operatee, I have not been given the pleasure of being in this room full of humanity.
“Johnson, you have a telephone call.” That just came over the intercom, which I might point out is as needless as a No. 3 pencil on a scantron exam. This entire waiting room is about the size of a living room in a pre-fabricated home. “When Mikey went to jail, we told her not to leave him inside, because he was attacking the cat.” I may have to come back to that, but I’m just going to type out whatever comment I may hear, due to my absolute lack of memory. The woman partaking in this philosophical equivalent to Plato and Socrates discussing farts, just said, “Animals can turn on ye.” To which, “That’s why I have Chihuahuas.” was retorted.
Back to the discussion that used to be at hand, the beauty or ignorance of this room is that it’s so small, you can hear all the HIPPA-violating conversations going on. Hell, I’m so close to some of these people, I can hear what they are thinking. It does have hardwood floors as if someone from “Fancy Up Your Fabricated Home” on the Home and Garden Network came in and spruced the place up. “If you’re going to eat sweets, do it responsibly.” This same woman just said she weighs over 330 pounds. Apparently there has been threats of a lock on this woman’s refrigerator by her husband. Her problem is, if she gets a bag a chips, she just don’t eat a few, she eats the whole bag. She has attempted to thwart her chippery by buying smaller bags, and for every one she eats, she gives six to the dog. I swear to whoever you believe in, this is really being said within keyboard range. I can’t believe these people don’t realize I’m typing like a transcriptionist on Adderall after each and every word they say.
“It doesn’t help that Michael can sit there and eat 5 Arby’s sandwiches and be as small as he is. He wears a small.” Based on the previous threads of this conversation, I find it hard to believe Michael – which seems to the BBW (porn term) lovin’ thin man (not the oil needing dude from The Wizard of Oz) married to this behemoth of intellectual enlightenment – isn’t tackled, tased or held at gun point any time he brings five Arby’s sandwiches into the home.
The chairs have kind of a 70′s funky turtle shell pattern that, thank god, is not counteracting my Lamictal or sense of hearing. It has been confirmed. The guy wearing the camouflaged wife beater that would only hide him in the Antarctic or on Hoth, is Michael. His bride with the 330lb ass and it’s own zip code just asked Michael to kill a seemingly injured or ignorant fly walking around on the hardwood.
“The Redd Family.” is all the old chick on the intercom said after answering the phone. It’s like surgery bingo up in here. A name is called out, and you blot your card. If Kawolcheck is next, I win. I just noticed that Big Talker – Indian name – has a tattoo on her right shoulder. It does not appear to be any sort of perishable item or fast food logo, but it definitely has been stretched further than any spandex she has ever worn.
And then you got your anonymous, random people that come in and look around, like they’re casing the joint for something nefarious. They don’t say anything, show any credentials or ask anyone to submit to a polygraph, but they definitely look like there “uhthoritie” needs to be respected. They only hang around for an average of 30 seconds to a minute, but it makes you somewhat antsy nonetheless. You can definitely tell who might be holding in this crowd, because some of these cats mysteriously get called by nature and head towards the head every time a sick bay sentry rolls up in this joint.
“When Randy was four years old, he was big enough to pick up my grandmama.” Randy is apparently not here, because I’m sure he would have stood up, flexed his biceps and taken credit for such a feat of strength, had he been present. Not to mention the girth or weight of the grandmother that was sack-o-tatered was never mentioned. If she had osteoporosis or was too short to ride rides at theme parks, I’m not impressed.
“He’s the anti-Christ.” To which the older participant queried, “How old is he?” To which our clearly-not-on-heroin-heroine replied, “Two years old.” Damien didn’t even match those numbers. I don’t know how you’d figure a two year old to be the anti-Christ. If he threw up pea soup like Linda Blair in the Exorcist, that could merely be a mix of gastric juices and baby food peas. If his bodily discharges were extremely funky, that could be attributable to that sour mash-like baby food they’re all fed along with that un-Kool Aid like formula mixture forced upon them. On the other hand, if they incessantly watch Teletubbies, then you may have yourself a problem. Jerry Fallwell was only touching the surface of there ungodliness when he went after the purple, purse carrying, apparently man-on-man loving one.
To be clear, before this ends, I don’t believe I’m perfect in anyway and admit my love can be handled very easily around my waist. My forehead is scarred with what appears to be a surgeons take on the river Nile, and I have such a little ass that it appears my sizable gut ate it at some point during my college career. My legs are skinner than an anorexic chicken with anemia, and I’m more pasty than a hungry first grader’s mouth. I just call it like I see it and, this particular morning, I’m apparently seeing things rather critically and I thought I’d do a little sidebar showing I get as much as I give.
The chick at the waiting room front desk is on the phone every time it rings, like an actual Indian on Microsoft’s Help Line. I know that happens once in a red dotted moon, but I have experienced it. They must have been bored that day. Anyway, when she answers the calls, she either gets on the aforementioned intercom, or simply calls out the name of the family which needs a designated representative to talk to whoever. It’s almost like managers meeting at home plate and exchanging lineup cards before a baseball game. These people run up there, talk to the lady and then speak to whomever on the phone.
O.K., at the risk of chapping my wife’s robe exposed ass, I’m going to shut this down. As I’ve said before, I’m completely responsible for all errors and loony thoughts. There were a lot of quotations in this note, and I don’t know how to convey the finger bending hand gesture that is the style of the times. I shall return. Keep your head on your shoulders, and keep reading gossip magazines in lines at stores about stars.
Posted Under: WTF
This post was written by Jeremy Smith on August 31, 2010
Boy, Hank Williams Jr. has really let himself go.
