"This might be a good time for Republicans to redouble their commitment to the reality-based community." - David Brooks, NY Times, 11/7/12
——————————————————
Greetings! In light of this week’s election, your local GOP committee is sending out this quiz to gauge our party’s commitment to reality. As a registered Republican, your input is crucial to determining future party direction. Remember, there are no right or wrong answers!
A. THE LATINO VOTE…
1: Is something we’ll need to earn in the next election cycle.
2: Is a fad.
3: Wouldn’t be an issue if Eisenhower had built that wall.
4: Is an anagram for “Vain Tootle.” Case closed.
B. REPUBLICANS LOST WOMEN VOTERS BECAUSE…
1: The GOP talked about rape too much.
2: The GOP didn’t talk about rape enough.
3: The GOP forgot to rewrite the Wikipedia entry for the 19th amendment.
4: They just kept shrieking and shrieking.
C. THE TEA PARTY…
1: Limited the options of Republican candidates.
2: Should be honored for their pep and zing.
3: Will have to work like the A-Team now that the Constitution has been suspended.
4: Actually won a majority in both things of Congress. Media? Hello??
D. HURRICANE SANDY WAS…
1: A national tragedy best kept out of politics.
2: A convenient showcase for hyping big government.
3: Known about for months, or years, in advance.
4: A good use of CGI. Not great. But good.
Continue

"This might be a good time for Republicans to redouble their commitment to the reality-based community." - David Brooks, NY Times, 11/7/12

——————————————————

Greetings! In light of this week’s election, your local GOP committee is sending out this quiz to gauge our party’s commitment to reality. As a registered Republican, your input is crucial to determining future party direction. Remember, there are no right or wrong answers!

A. THE LATINO VOTE…

1: Is something we’ll need to earn in the next election cycle.

2: Is a fad.

3: Wouldn’t be an issue if Eisenhower had built that wall.

4: Is an anagram for “Vain Tootle.” Case closed.

B. REPUBLICANS LOST WOMEN VOTERS BECAUSE…

1: The GOP talked about rape too much.

2: The GOP didn’t talk about rape enough.

3: The GOP forgot to rewrite the Wikipedia entry for the 19th amendment.

4: They just kept shrieking and shrieking.

C. THE TEA PARTY…

1: Limited the options of Republican candidates.

2: Should be honored for their pep and zing.

3: Will have to work like the A-Team now that the Constitution has been suspended.

4: Actually won a majority in both things of Congress. Media? Hello??

D. HURRICANE SANDY WAS…

1: A national tragedy best kept out of politics.

2: A convenient showcase for hyping big government.

3: Known about for months, or years, in advance.

4: A good use of CGI. Not great. But good.

Continue

Yelping Halloween
2 reviews for 119 Haverford Ave.
(3 Stars) 10/31/12
I took my kids trick or treating yesterday and the second stop on our route was the Hadley household. Right off the bat, they lose a star for giving out Life Savers. Is this a 6th grade secret santa grab bag? Run out of carob chips? The candy you serve speaks volumes about you as a citizen. And a human being.
Comment from Linda Hadley of 119 Haverford Ave. 11/1/12 « Hide
larry you can’t yelp your neighbors houses are you insane
(1 Star) 10/31/12
she refused my kids candy and told me to leave property
Comment from Linda Hadley of 119 Haverford Ave. 11/1/12 « Hide
you showed up drunk, with stuff from my trash can duct taped to your shirt, and told me you were supposed to be “hurricane sandy.” and your kids were both dressed as “mittler youth.”
4 reviews for 22 Buford Ct.
(2 Stars) 10/31/12
The Guntersons did a wonderful job tricking their house out for us trick or treaters :-} Lots of spooky cobwebs and tombstones. My problem is with Jake Gunterson’s candy policy. When he saw that my son was costumed as a hobo clown, he told Timmy that he “doesn’t do handouts.” As we were leaving, however, another child arrived dressed as a California Raisin, and I heard Mr. Gunderson say, “what a delightful Bill Cosby,” followed by the distinct sound of Kit Kats falling into a pillowcase.
Comment from Jake G of 22 Buford Ct. 11/1/12 « Hide
Prove it.
(1 Star) 10/31/12
Like many parents in our neighborhood, I wore my own costume while my two daughters trick or treated. When we got to Jake’s house, he said, “Do you really think I’m going to give you anything?” I asked him what he meant. He said, “You’re an Obama phone,” “No,” I calmly explained, “I’m a Motorola clamshell.” “Well then, what’s that?” he said, pointing down towards my groin. “It’s a zero button,” I replied, trying hard to keep my cool. Then he called me an expletive I was really hoping my daughters wouldn’t have to hear until at least third grade and confiscated my girls’ Milk Duds.
Comment from Jake G of 22 Buford Ct. 11/1/12 « Hide
Redistribution’s not so groovy now, huh?
Continue

Yelping Halloween

2 reviews for 119 Haverford Ave.

(3 Stars) 10/31/12

I took my kids trick or treating yesterday and the second stop on our route was the Hadley household. Right off the bat, they lose a star for giving out Life Savers. Is this a 6th grade secret santa grab bag? Run out of carob chips? The candy you serve speaks volumes about you as a citizen. And a human being.

Comment from Linda Hadley of 119 Haverford Ave. 11/1/12 « Hide

larry you can’t yelp your neighbors houses are you insane

(1 Star) 10/31/12

she refused my kids candy and told me to leave property

Comment from Linda Hadley of 119 Haverford Ave. 11/1/12 « Hide

you showed up drunk, with stuff from my trash can duct taped to your shirt, and told me you were supposed to be “hurricane sandy.” and your kids were both dressed as “mittler youth.”

4 reviews for 22 Buford Ct.

(2 Stars) 10/31/12

The Guntersons did a wonderful job tricking their house out for us trick or treaters :-} Lots of spooky cobwebs and tombstones. My problem is with Jake Gunterson’s candy policy. When he saw that my son was costumed as a hobo clown, he told Timmy that he “doesn’t do handouts.” As we were leaving, however, another child arrived dressed as a California Raisin, and I heard Mr. Gunderson say, “what a delightful Bill Cosby,” followed by the distinct sound of Kit Kats falling into a pillowcase.

Comment from Jake G of 22 Buford Ct. 11/1/12 « Hide

Prove it.

(1 Star) 10/31/12

Like many parents in our neighborhood, I wore my own costume while my two daughters trick or treated. When we got to Jake’s house, he said, “Do you really think I’m going to give you anything?” I asked him what he meant. He said, “You’re an Obama phone,” “No,” I calmly explained, “I’m a Motorola clamshell.” “Well then, what’s that?” he said, pointing down towards my groin. “It’s a zero button,” I replied, trying hard to keep my cool. Then he called me an expletive I was really hoping my daughters wouldn’t have to hear until at least third grade and confiscated my girls’ Milk Duds.

Comment from Jake G of 22 Buford Ct. 11/1/12 « Hide

Redistribution’s not so groovy now, huh?

Continue

iPhone 5 Drinking Games

“Apple sent out invitations Tuesday to a Sept. 12 event in San Francisco, where the company is expected to unveil a redesigned iPhone. ‘It’s almost here,’ the Cupertino company said in the invitation, featuring an image that includes a ‘5’ in shadow, possibly in reference to the new product’s name.” - SF Chronicle, 9/4/12

FROWNS IN THE ROUND
GAME RULES: Pre-pour shots of Bud Light, Coors Light, O’Doul’s, or distilled water. Watch the Apple event on TV. As soon as it becomes clear that Apple is not unveiling a new iPhone, everyone takes a drink. Do extra shots if Apple introduces a new iPad charger, the Newton II, or a nightlight shaped like the number 5.
BUZZ FACTOR: You had to be up early on Thursday anyway.
JARGON ROULETTE
GAME RULES: Provide beers or light cocktails. Watch Apple event on TV. Take one sip every time you hear the words “game-changing,” “revolutionary,” “visionary,” or “power efficient.” Take two sips every time the presenter smiles arrogantly or mentions Neil Armstrong. Drain your glass every time you hear the words, “Fuck you, Samsung!”
BUZZ FACTOR: Depends.
SELF-REFLECTION
GAME RULES: Watch Apple event on TV. Everyone chugs a beer when they hear the words “thinner case,” “taller screen,” or “longer battery life.” Hold a halfhearted group conversation about how buying a new cell phone always seems really exciting at first, but then the thrill quickly evaporates and you somehow feel even more empty and alone. Quietly sip some more beer.
BUZZ FACTOR:  Make sure everyone is sufficiently sober enough to drive at the end of the night. Turn off all the lights and sit in your dark living room. Cry.
MALT LIQUOR MINDGASM
GAME RULES: Load a case of 12-oz. Colt 45 cans into a paint mixer. Shake for five minutes. Place cans on coffee table and watch Apple event on TV. Shotgun one can every time you hear the words, “Sixth generation,” “Teleportation app,”  “MRI-vision,” “Literal retina display,” “ends famine,” “iWormhole,” or “self-aware.” Do two cans if the camera cuts to the president and the UN Secretary General tearfully releasing doves to herald the dawn of a new epoch in human civilization.
BUZZ FACTOR: Medium.
KEEP PLAYING

iPhone 5 Drinking Games

“Apple sent out invitations Tuesday to a Sept. 12 event in San Francisco, where the company is expected to unveil a redesigned iPhone. ‘It’s almost here,’ the Cupertino company said in the invitation, featuring an image that includes a ‘5’ in shadow, possibly in reference to the new product’s name.” - SF Chronicle, 9/4/12

FROWNS IN THE ROUND

GAME RULES: Pre-pour shots of Bud Light, Coors Light, O’Doul’s, or distilled water. Watch the Apple event on TV. As soon as it becomes clear that Apple is not unveiling a new iPhone, everyone takes a drink. Do extra shots if Apple introduces a new iPad charger, the Newton II, or a nightlight shaped like the number 5.

BUZZ FACTOR: You had to be up early on Thursday anyway.

JARGON ROULETTE

GAME RULES: Provide beers or light cocktails. Watch Apple event on TV. Take one sip every time you hear the words “game-changing,” “revolutionary,” “visionary,” or “power efficient.” Take two sips every time the presenter smiles arrogantly or mentions Neil Armstrong. Drain your glass every time you hear the words, “Fuck you, Samsung!”

BUZZ FACTOR: Depends.

SELF-REFLECTION

GAME RULES: Watch Apple event on TV. Everyone chugs a beer when they hear the words “thinner case,” “taller screen,” or “longer battery life.” Hold a halfhearted group conversation about how buying a new cell phone always seems really exciting at first, but then the thrill quickly evaporates and you somehow feel even more empty and alone. Quietly sip some more beer.

BUZZ FACTOR:  Make sure everyone is sufficiently sober enough to drive at the end of the night. Turn off all the lights and sit in your dark living room. Cry.

MALT LIQUOR MINDGASM

GAME RULES: Load a case of 12-oz. Colt 45 cans into a paint mixer. Shake for five minutes. Place cans on coffee table and watch Apple event on TV. Shotgun one can every time you hear the words, “Sixth generation,” “Teleportation app,”  “MRI-vision,” “Literal retina display,” “ends famine,” “iWormhole,” or “self-aware.” Do two cans if the camera cuts to the president and the UN Secretary General tearfully releasing doves to herald the dawn of a new epoch in human civilization.

BUZZ FACTOR: Medium.

KEEP PLAYING

Dear Mr. Ethics,
I am a healthy 42-year-old Minnesota guy with a fantastic family and a well-paying government job. Also, I recently became the presumptive Republican nominee for vice president of the United States in the 2012 election. Life is good.
The thing is, the guy I’m running with is kind of weird. OK, he’s VERY weird. For starters, he wears this strange full-body underwear beneath his clothes. We were campaigning in 105-degree weather, and I could see the heat rash creeping up his neck, like leprosy or something. It was gross. Also, he won’t drink anything but tap water. He says even spring water is against his religion, but I couldn’t find anything about that on Wikipedia.
The other day, some of his aides were doing that ‘I’m Rick James, bitch!’ bit from Chappelle’s Show. Only they had to say, “I’m Rick James, witch!” since it’s a rule that nobody on the tour bus can use swear words. I know it doesn’t sound that funny, but believe me, when you’re looking to break up the stress of an 18-hour day of campaigning, it’s pretty comical. Anyway, I wound up doing the bit myself, and suddenly everyone on the bus gets really quiet and weird. I turn around and Captain Long Underwear is just standing there, and he looks at me with those dead mannequin eyes and says, “but your name isn’t Rick.”  
So I’m wondering—if things get really crazy—how bad would it be if I pulled a Dave Chappelle deal myself and just sort of drop out and do my own thing?
- Befuddled For Office
Read the response

Dear Mr. Ethics,

I am a healthy 42-year-old Minnesota guy with a fantastic family and a well-paying government job. Also, I recently became the presumptive Republican nominee for vice president of the United States in the 2012 election. Life is good.

The thing is, the guy I’m running with is kind of weird. OK, he’s VERY weird. For starters, he wears this strange full-body underwear beneath his clothes. We were campaigning in 105-degree weather, and I could see the heat rash creeping up his neck, like leprosy or something. It was gross. Also, he won’t drink anything but tap water. He says even spring water is against his religion, but I couldn’t find anything about that on Wikipedia.

The other day, some of his aides were doing that ‘I’m Rick James, bitch!’ bit from Chappelle’s Show. Only they had to say, “I’m Rick James, witch!” since it’s a rule that nobody on the tour bus can use swear words. I know it doesn’t sound that funny, but believe me, when you’re looking to break up the stress of an 18-hour day of campaigning, it’s pretty comical. Anyway, I wound up doing the bit myself, and suddenly everyone on the bus gets really quiet and weird. I turn around and Captain Long Underwear is just standing there, and he looks at me with those dead mannequin eyes and says, “but your name isn’t Rick.”  

So I’m wondering—if things get really crazy—how bad would it be if I pulled a Dave Chappelle deal myself and just sort of drop out and do my own thing?

- Befuddled For Office

Read the response

An Oral History of the Recent Unpleasantness of Olympics Mascots 
"I’m Wenloc, the Olympic mascot for London 2012. I love finding out about all sports, having fun and making friends."
"I’m Mandeville, the Paralympic mascot for London 2012. I love trying new things and challenging myself to be the best I can be"
- 2012 London Olympics official website
Waldi the Dachshund (1972): Yeah, I was the mascot for Munich. First German games since the Holocaust. [Takes long drag on cigarette]  So, you know… that worked out well.
Misha The Bear (1980): They had me pose with just about every goddamn sport you can think of. Fencing, running, sitting in a frigging wheelchair holding a javelin. After a while, I’d get panic attacks. I wouldn’t leave my trailer.
Sam The Eagle (1984): I was pumped. When it was over, I was all, what’s next guys? And they just laughed. I was like, huh? When’s the next Olympics? What’s the game plan here, you know?
Beibei the fish (2008): Between my Etsy shop and the Section 8 vouchers, I make out. But it’s tough. I don’t really have any savings.
Magique the Snow Imp (1992): I had some seasonal work at the Poughkeepsie County Fair, in the “tickle monster” booth. Obviously, that’s over now.
Schneemann the Snowman (1976): My daughter made me a gold medal out of the foil lid thing from a sour cream container. I just looked down at the floor. I couldn’t even cry.
Nokki the Snow Owl (1998): I haven’t been able to cry in years.
Hodori the Tiger (1988): They don’t make a 12-step program for people like us. [Pauses] Should I be using “people” in air quotes? I was never really sure about that.
Roni the Raccoon (1980): I’d gotten a settlement from a snowmobile accident and used the money to party every night. I started running with a bad set of guys—the Hamburger Helper Hand, the Phillie Phanatic, Eddie the Iron Maiden skeleton. It was a dark time in my life.
Copper the Coyote (2002): I started snorting a lot of that shit… what’s that called? Those glue stick things? Head On. That shit.
Sam the Eagle: I was doing a lot of jenkem, a lot of ground-up Yaz. What ever I could get my hands on.
Howdy the Polar Bear (1988): Bath Salts. Like from the Body Shop? I was smoking maybe 30 or 45 pounds a day.
Sydney the Platypus (2000): You set up rules for yourself. “OK, I’ll do handies, but I won’t turn tricks.” The next month, it’s like, “OK, I’ll turn tricks, but I’ll always use protection.”
Copper the Coyote: You can make good money at, you know, truck stops. [Pauses] Depending on what you’re willing to do.
Sam The Eagle: Guys would pay more if they thought I was one of the muppets.
Powder The Hare (2002): I tracked down Coal the Bear. He looked tore up. I told him, “I can get you work through my construction company. It’s not the easiest job, but if you settle in, we can fast track you for management in six months. One thing, though. We drug test. No exceptions.” He looked right in my face and—I’ll never forget this—he said, “Fuck you, you Jar Jar Binks motherfucker.”
Paloma the Dove (1968): My wife threw out all my Olympics stuff years ago. What are you going to do? I love that woman.
Izzy the Abstraction (1992): I still get royalties from that Super Nintendo game modeled after me. You need Windows 95 to play it, but it’s a pretty cool game.
Amik the Beaver (1976): I’m in Provo now, married, got a decent job at a company that manufactures industrial adhesives. Every now and then, one of the vendors will recognize me from the Olympics, and they get a kick out of that. But mostly, no, I don’t really think about it too much these days. I’ve moved on.
Previously - Sheriff Joe Tweets

An Oral History of the Recent Unpleasantness of Olympics Mascots 

"I’m Wenloc, the Olympic mascot for London 2012. I love finding out about all sports, having fun and making friends."

"I’m Mandeville, the Paralympic mascot for London 2012. I love trying new things and challenging myself to be the best I can be"

- 2012 London Olympics official website

Waldi the Dachshund (1972): Yeah, I was the mascot for Munich. First German games since the Holocaust. [Takes long drag on cigarette]  So, you know… that worked out well.

Misha The Bear (1980): They had me pose with just about every goddamn sport you can think of. Fencing, running, sitting in a frigging wheelchair holding a javelin. After a while, I’d get panic attacks. I wouldn’t leave my trailer.

Sam The Eagle (1984): I was pumped. When it was over, I was all, what’s next guys? And they just laughed. I was like, huh? When’s the next Olympics? What’s the game plan here, you know?

Beibei the fish (2008): Between my Etsy shop and the Section 8 vouchers, I make out. But it’s tough. I don’t really have any savings.

Magique the Snow Imp (1992): I had some seasonal work at the Poughkeepsie County Fair, in the “tickle monster” booth. Obviously, that’s over now.

Schneemann the Snowman (1976): My daughter made me a gold medal out of the foil lid thing from a sour cream container. I just looked down at the floor. I couldn’t even cry.

Nokki the Snow Owl (1998): I haven’t been able to cry in years.

Hodori the Tiger (1988): They don’t make a 12-step program for people like us. [Pauses] Should I be using “people” in air quotes? I was never really sure about that.

Roni the Raccoon (1980): I’d gotten a settlement from a snowmobile accident and used the money to party every night. I started running with a bad set of guys—the Hamburger Helper Hand, the Phillie Phanatic, Eddie the Iron Maiden skeleton. It was a dark time in my life.

Copper the Coyote (2002): I started snorting a lot of that shit… what’s that called? Those glue stick things? Head On. That shit.

Sam the Eagle: I was doing a lot of jenkem, a lot of ground-up Yaz. What ever I could get my hands on.

Howdy the Polar Bear (1988): Bath Salts. Like from the Body Shop? I was smoking maybe 30 or 45 pounds a day.

Sydney the Platypus (2000): You set up rules for yourself. “OK, I’ll do handies, but I won’t turn tricks.” The next month, it’s like, “OK, I’ll turn tricks, but I’ll always use protection.”

Copper the Coyote: You can make good money at, you know, truck stops. [Pauses] Depending on what you’re willing to do.

Sam The Eagle: Guys would pay more if they thought I was one of the muppets.

Powder The Hare (2002): I tracked down Coal the Bear. He looked tore up. I told him, “I can get you work through my construction company. It’s not the easiest job, but if you settle in, we can fast track you for management in six months. One thing, though. We drug test. No exceptions.” He looked right in my face and—I’ll never forget this—he said, “Fuck you, you Jar Jar Binks motherfucker.”

Paloma the Dove (1968): My wife threw out all my Olympics stuff years ago. What are you going to do? I love that woman.

Izzy the Abstraction (1992): I still get royalties from that Super Nintendo game modeled after me. You need Windows 95 to play it, but it’s a pretty cool game.

Amik the Beaver (1976): I’m in Provo now, married, got a decent job at a company that manufactures industrial adhesives. Every now and then, one of the vendors will recognize me from the Olympics, and they get a kick out of that. But mostly, no, I don’t really think about it too much these days. I’ve moved on.

Previously - Sheriff Joe Tweets


One night a few years ago as I was driving down a narrow alley in downtown LA a car approached from the other direction, ignoring the conspicuous ONE WAY sign pointing in my favor. Our vehicles met and paused. It was a showdown. From the opposing car’s sunroof, an athletic young man in a backwards baseball cap popped out like a jack in the box, his arms outstretched in the universal symbol of manly martyrdom popularized by Creed frontman Scott Stapp.
"It’s a one way street, yo!" the young man roared. He was half my age.
I think about this moment a lot when I’m in traffic, or alleys, or being confronted by angry men popping out of things. What, exactly, happened? There are at least three meanings that could be attached to this seemingly simple interaction. The obvious reading—that Stapp Lite was too dumb to realize his error—seems a little too obvious. My gut tells me he didn’t care about his error, or he didn’t care about his error to such a great extent that he wanted it made clear that the error was mine in challenging him (by not immediately evaporating into a cloud of dust).  
Stupid people are more complex than we give them credit for. A 1999 Cornell University study, “How Difficulties in Recognizing One’s Own Incompetence Lead to Inflated Self-Assessments,” reached one inescapable conclusion: stupidity bolsters confidence to, more or less, the same degree that smartness weakens confidence. The less you know, the less you don’t know what you don’t know.
Classic egghead East Coast bullshit, right? The study, however, ignored one crucial distinction. People who don’t know they are stupid are not necessarily the same as people who shamelessly flaunt their stupidity. Bush 2, Sarah Palin, and Rick Perry (the governor, not the candidate) all made careers for themselves by playing up their stupidity as a denial of eggheadishness. Secretly, of course, they conceded to their pals that they were terribly smart by allowing us coastal eggheads—the true dummies, in an intuitive, down to earth sense—to believe that they, the alleged dummies, were, in fact, dumb to begin with.
It’s complicated! Making things even more complicated, there’s plenty of overlap between Self Aware Stupids and Stupid Stupids. Pundit Michelle Malkin scolds bookworms for their bookworminess, but she also uses the word “idiocracy” without acknowledging the recent movie of the same name which depicts, in graphic detail, what would happen to this civilization if she and her buddies were allowed to continue pooping all over everything. Millions of stupid people buy books (Arguing With Idiots, If Democrats Had Any Brains, They’d Be Republicans), written to make them believe their stupidity is morally superior to prevailing smartness.  Every week, some nationally elected goofball wins supporters by treating a Colbert or Onion story like a bona fide outrage. The Get A Brain Morans guy could absolutely run for office on the strength of one simple typo.
As for Sunroof Bro, I had a vision that night in the alley; he would someday work in the hospital or Hospice I would reside in as an old man. He’d still wear a backwards baseball cap. Years of violent, sexual workouts would have made his body lean and hard, so that he would tower over my feeble, bedridden figure while exclaiming, for the sake of his chuckling buddies, “check out this fucking egghead.”
And when I looked up, a single tear rolling down my wrinkled cheeks, he’d puff his chest out and be all like, “WHAT!?”
@sammcpheeters
Previously – Waiting for a 9.2

One night a few years ago as I was driving down a narrow alley in downtown LA a car approached from the other direction, ignoring the conspicuous ONE WAY sign pointing in my favor. Our vehicles met and paused. It was a showdown. From the opposing car’s sunroof, an athletic young man in a backwards baseball cap popped out like a jack in the box, his arms outstretched in the universal symbol of manly martyrdom popularized by Creed frontman Scott Stapp.

"It’s a one way street, yo!" the young man roared. He was half my age.

I think about this moment a lot when I’m in traffic, or alleys, or being confronted by angry men popping out of things. What, exactly, happened? There are at least three meanings that could be attached to this seemingly simple interaction. The obvious reading—that Stapp Lite was too dumb to realize his error—seems a little too obvious. My gut tells me he didn’t care about his error, or he didn’t care about his error to such a great extent that he wanted it made clear that the error was mine in challenging him (by not immediately evaporating into a cloud of dust).  

Stupid people are more complex than we give them credit for. A 1999 Cornell University study, “How Difficulties in Recognizing One’s Own Incompetence Lead to Inflated Self-Assessments,” reached one inescapable conclusion: stupidity bolsters confidence to, more or less, the same degree that smartness weakens confidence. The less you know, the less you don’t know what you don’t know.

Classic egghead East Coast bullshit, right? The study, however, ignored one crucial distinction. People who don’t know they are stupid are not necessarily the same as people who shamelessly flaunt their stupidity. Bush 2, Sarah Palin, and Rick Perry (the governor, not the candidate) all made careers for themselves by playing up their stupidity as a denial of eggheadishness. Secretly, of course, they conceded to their pals that they were terribly smart by allowing us coastal eggheads—the true dummies, in an intuitive, down to earth sense—to believe that they, the alleged dummies, were, in fact, dumb to begin with.

It’s complicated! Making things even more complicated, there’s plenty of overlap between Self Aware Stupids and Stupid Stupids. Pundit Michelle Malkin scolds bookworms for their bookworminess, but she also uses the word “idiocracy” without acknowledging the recent movie of the same name which depicts, in graphic detail, what would happen to this civilization if she and her buddies were allowed to continue pooping all over everything. Millions of stupid people buy books (Arguing With IdiotsIf Democrats Had Any Brains, They’d Be Republicans), written to make them believe their stupidity is morally superior to prevailing smartness.  Every week, some nationally elected goofball wins supporters by treating a Colbert or Onion story like a bona fide outrage. The Get A Brain Morans guy could absolutely run for office on the strength of one simple typo.

As for Sunroof Bro, I had a vision that night in the alley; he would someday work in the hospital or Hospice I would reside in as an old man. He’d still wear a backwards baseball cap. Years of violent, sexual workouts would have made his body lean and hard, so that he would tower over my feeble, bedridden figure while exclaiming, for the sake of his chuckling buddies, “check out this fucking egghead.”

And when I looked up, a single tear rolling down my wrinkled cheeks, he’d puff his chest out and be all like, “WHAT!?”

@sammcpheeters

Previously – Waiting for a 9.2

Earthquakes are fucking terrifying.

Earthquakes are fucking terrifying.

Why can’t all machines just work all the time? Why do so many stupid, stupid fucking things always have to not work? Seriously—WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? WORK YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!! WORK!!!
Continue

Why can’t all machines just work all the time? Why do so many stupid, stupid fucking things always have to not work? Seriously—WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? WORK YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!! WORK!!!

Continue

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