Bullshit of 1997
Bullshit of 1997
I hate having any relevance to anything at all, so I usually refrain from commenting on current events. This does not mean that I have no opinions, far from it as anyone near me when I pick up a newspaper will attest to. Plenty of shit pissed me off this year, but instead of wasting an entire column on this junk, I saved it all up for the end of the year. This is by no means a complete list, such a document would have to be filed in volumes and would take the better part of a year to complete. Plenty of stuff has been forgotten as well, my brain’s meager attempt to regulate my violent mood swings. These things are in no specific order of hate.
That Pregnant Melrose Bitch
In yet another case of greed dressing itself as social activism, braindead jurors awarded this bitch over five million bucks for her pain and suffering when not allowed to perform as a pregnant seductress on Melrose Place. Gee, I wish I got 5 million bucks every time someone fucked me over. But it may be worth the 5 million dollars to not have to see a pregnant woman in a swimsuit. Legal Battle Predictions for 1998: The Right for Pregnant Women to Fight in Combat.
Baptist Boycott of Disney
Mitsubishi is destroying rainforests, Shell is supporting worldwide violence, and the Baptists are morally outraged at a company that gives health care to homosexuals? They might as well hold up banners that say ‘We do not understand what is happening.’ Not that I have any love for the Reich of the Mouse, but c’mon folks, point your Bibles in the right direction.
Princess Di Coverage
People die every day. If you live a life of pain and misery before you die, like most people in the world do, you become a statistic. But if you have things really good before you die, it’s somehow a tragedy. The media fueled outpouring of grief and flowers worldwide shows how easy it is to tug at heartstrings and how bad people want to escape the mess of their own lives if only for a second. Especially touching was the ambassador of dead blondes, Elton John, who, after changing some lyrics of an old song got himself a #1 hit and enough dough to buy himself some new duck costumes in the process. Don’t forget the Princess Di commemorative plates either (careful while transporting; they’re fragile). Oh sure, it sucks for her kids, but it’s not like they’re going to go hungry or anything. Save your grief for people who need it.
Legalized Medical Marijuana Enforcement
In California, the people passed a proposition that allowed for the medical use of marijuana, yet because this goes against federal drug policy that targets certain drugs as evil and subsidizes others, people are still getting harassed. In Los Angeles, where only 1 of 3 murders is ever solved, the LA Sheriff has chosen to target pot friendly doctors for prosecution. I guess doctors don’t shoot back.
The Rolling Stones ‘Bridges to Babylon’ Tour
Top grossing tour of the year, the liquor embalmed corpses of the Rolling Stones were roused from their coffins and led around the country to hash out hit songs from their already too long careers. But who can blame them when so many of you idiots paid on the upward of $50 a ticket to sit in stadium bleachers and cheer on four guys who should have had the good sense to quit 20 years ago. Things like this really clue me into the fact that I just don’t understand people, and that I just don’t want to understand people.
Chic lesbianism can suck my dick. I suppose I’m just waiting for the time when society can just get over things like sexuality, religion, and race and realize that people are terrible on their own merits. I actually don’t have anything against that Ellen show, other than the fact it isn’t too funny. I suppose it’s cool to have a gay character on a show that isn’t some kind of wacky comic relief sidekick, but I really don’t care about TV enough to really let that make me happy.
7 More Mouths To Feed
Let’s hear it for Pergonal, the fertility drug that blessed a Carlisle, Iowa family with the only litter of surviving septuplets to ever stagger from a human womb. As a reward for such a momentous achievement, the family was given a new house, a new van, a lifetime supply of diapers (which will assumably also cover the 7 children she’ll probably have next year as well), a year’s supply of groceries, and an invitation to the White House. Have some kids in the inner city and they call you irresponsible, do it in a small town and they buy you a fucking house. Hey Bill, if the White House needs any more freaks over for dinner, I can drink an entire case of beer and still bowl a 300.
Another cynical lawsuit dressed up as a women’s rights issue. Long time kink partners have some bad blood and one runs to the cops because of the other’s fame and fortune. If you had the weirdest sex thing you’ve ever done (or want to but don’t have the guts to do) broadcast to the world, you’d look like a sicko too. C’mon, like you’ve never bitten someone hard enough to leave marks.
Hey, if you’re a big band who can’t manage to come up with some new songs, hand yer old ones to some fucker from San Francisco, New York, or Manchester to add some 4 times as fast drum machine beats and some stupid sounding samples. The kids eat that shit up, it’s economical, and hey, you look like you’re keeping up with the times. Desperate for something new, people have once again settled for lameness on extraordinary scales.
How did I forget about this guy? A mouthful of rotten teeth later the thought crosses my mind ‘You haven’t been to the dentist in over 3 years’. Appointment set for next week. More fear for my bill then the pain of ripping out all my teeth and replacing them with dentures. Note: Any dentists on the West Side who enjoy this column and would like to help me out would be appreciated, but just to warn you; it’s gonna be messy.
It figures that one of the few active bands doing somewhat original stuff should lose not one, but two members to death this year. A drowning and a car accident if I heard it right. Why couldn’t the Grim Reaper have visited those bozos from Oasis instead?
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy ritual suicide as much as the next guy. What sucked was that Inside Edition and the FBI both somehow initially linked Heaven’s Gate to the Crash Site. If those of you were watching the episode we starred in, you would remember seeing us listed as a rival internet cult to Heaven’s Gate, an allegation that sent a barrage of loaded emails, and two agents to interview me and another guy who was working here. Luckily the shit was cleared up, but not before getting followed home by the press and cops for a week straight. Free publicity, I suppose, but a hell lot of stress I didn’t need.
If anything taught me to stop watching the news this year, it was the El Nino coverage we got here in Southern California. OK, El Nino created havoc in the 80’s. OK, a similar pattern was happening. Preparation is cool, but damn if I wasn’t totally ready for the monsoon. I’ve gotten used to the crime, the traffic, the pollution, and the earthquakes in LA, but I still need some serious flood stories before I move somewhere new. I even bought a canoe to paddle down I-10 when it floods. It still may happen, but I’m not counting on it. Fucking typical.
Here’s a thought. If you spend millions of dollars on an Online Network, MAKE SURE IT DOESN’T SUCK. And here’s another thought. If you want stuff that doesn’t suck, DON’T FUCK OVER EVERY CONTENT PROVIDING COMPANY IN NORTH AMERICA. And here’s a final thought. When people cancel your boring and lackluster service, DON’T KEEP ‘ACCIDENTALLY’ CHARGING THEM. Embarrassing to get your ass kicked by the farts at AOL, huh?
The Crash Site
What the fuck is up with these jackasses? They build this huge cool site, and then never put a fucking thing up. Oh sure, that retard Driver manages add some self-aggrandizing bullshit up every few weeks, and some lame-o who thinks he’s the Devil plays Ann Landers to a bunch of spineless psychos every now and then, but where’s the fucking meat, boys? These shits should stop doing all that sell-out ‘for pay’ junk and get their shit back together. Jerk-offs.
Here’s hoping your 1998 won’t suck as bad as your 1997. Have fun.