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September 17, 2007 - September 10, 2007

Friday, May 26, 2006



InstaPunk Lives

We're not sure what all that was about, but one thing is for sure -- InstaPunk is NOT ready for prime time.

As reported previously, the discussion sessions were a bit above and beyond past debates. InstaPunk was bloodied, but he was still standing at the end of it all -- at least that is what we heard. Unfortunately, we weren't there -- so, it is left to us to sort it all out . . .

That is what we'll be doing over this Memorial Day weekend. If you'd like to help -- perhaps contribute and entry or two -- drop us a line via the email address provided in the left panel. Otherwise, have a good time and go listen to Taps being played somewhere near home -- maybe even shed a tear or two for those who aren't with us this year.





Jock Justice

Mike Nifong, Lacrosse alum. Translation? Idiot.

COUNSELOR. We were suspicious from the start. The folks at Instapunk are as sympathetic and intimate with strippers as anyone. This particular charge never rang true. But we kept our peace. We know that jocks can be a**holes. In particular, we never liked Lacrosse jocks.

[Yes, InstaPunk arises from his bed of pain. He's back. Because of this. Which he hates. Because he never liked Lacrosse jocks.]


Well, Seamans wasn't
that dumb. Better than what came after.

They were the superficialest, snobbiest, airheadedest bunch of clowns who ever afflicted a private school -- back in the days before Johns-Hopkins somehow swindled the nation into believing that a bunch of halfwits sporting pre-Columbian accessories 24 hours a day constituted a legitimate sports constituency. They never did. They were, from the first, merely the signposts of empty-headed, social-climbing, obsessive, quasi-untalented joke-jocks, who convinced each other they were athletic because they came from the same affluent three-county area in Maryland. They drank themselves into a stupor over a title decided among Johns-Hopkins, Annapolis, and the honestly named Terrapins of U. Maryland. Oh yeah. I forgot. There were also a bunch of prep schools in the Maryland area that gave passing grades to congressmen's sons who had filled in their athletic deficits by swishing Lacrosse sticks over their Topsiders since the age of six. Where do you think Terrapins come from?

Yecccch. Yeeeccccch. Thirty-five years after graduation from my southern Pennsylvania prep school, I still despise them, even the thought of them, their sneers, their sticks whooshing day and night, their Sperry Topsiders slap-slapping the paths, their consonantless, empty chatter...

To my mind, Lacrosse players are the bottom of the bottom-feeders.

So I waited for the rape case to be made against the Duke dudes. Only problem:† No case.

You see. I hate Lacrosse players. But I don't get to ruin their lives by leveling empty charges at them. Just to pose one example, say I'm a woman who's at least momentarily attractive to Lacrosse players.† I don't get to accuse three of them of raping me when I've already admitted to having sex with three other non-Lacrosse-playing dudes on the same night. I don't get to change my story back and forth -- nothing, rape, gang rape, rape by the richest Lacrosse players -- when I'm a stripper who's too drunk to to remember what really happened. If anything happened.

It can even be the case that my life is sad and unfair. I can call myself an exotic dancer. I can pretend I don't make money by taking my clothes off for Lacrosse players (Yecccch!), which -- when it accidentally happens -- causes me to drink too much and have sex with lots of men before I ever meet the rich stick-wielding dudes.

But if I want to prove that Lacrosse dudes raped me, I'd really better be able to remember the incident, name names, produce evidence beyond residual signs of arousal and subsequent tenderness in my loins, and have some kind of circumstantial evidence that rich white boys forced me to have sex against my will.

I'd also better have a district attorney on my side who isn't a total race-whore sellout with no case beyond a desire to inflame racial tensions to win an election.

Let me sum up. When I quit pretending that I'm a stripper, I still hate Lacrosse players. A lot. But what I hate worse are scheming whores who assume they can frame men for rapes they didn't commit. And worst of all, I hate prosecutors.

Yeah, unscrupulous prosecutors are the worst. Like Mike Nifong, spread-eagled political opportunist. Like the first Maryland Lacrossers I ever knew. Social climbers armed with a stick. Whoosh whoosh. Whore of whores. But I also hate even the lesser prosecutors† -- the ones who overcharge their clients even when they're not overstating the case against defendants who aren't savvy enough to get real legal help hire a more expensive lawyer. On the other hand, maybe there's justice in the injustice of bullies who learn that other people are alive only by learning that they aren't. Condolences to all the dead people. Whoosh whoosh.

But that's just me. Recuperating from the Debate. [I gave as good as I got. Who out there has ever publicly disagreed with Insect Brain?]

Get the man some topsiders and a stick. Then shoot him. It worked for [DELETED].





Thursday, May 25, 2006


The World is Catching Up...

Bob and Joan and Cate and Brad

BREAKING NEWS. About five weeks ago, we published a scoop about George Clooney's new movie Weekend at Berchtesgaden. Some people laughed at the reported casting of Barba Streisand as Joseph Goebbels and Whoopi Goldberg as Nicholas von Ribbentrop. We may have been slightly premature about Clooney's next project, but we were right on the money about the newest fad in movie-making -- casting against gender type. Today's Drudge contains an item about a new film biography of Bob Dylan, in which one of multiple actors playing him† is Cate Blanchette.

[O]n Dylan's birthday, the Hollywood press reported that Blanchett would be among several actors -- also including "Brokeback Mountain" star Heath Ledger and Richard Gere -- to portray the great American folksinger in a film.

Blanchette as Dylan. Of course. Wrong nationality, wrong ethnic type, wrong sex -- sounds about right to us -- right in the sense that the world is indeed catching up with Instapunk predictions. The article fails in one respect, though; it doesn't mention the equally sensational casting of the Joan Baez role, which will be played by Brad Pitt. Our sources tell us that Tom Cruise was briefly in line for the part but was considered "too deeply weird" by the producers to be convincing as Baez. (Yeah, that doesn't sound right to us, either. Oh well.)

We suspect this is the beginning of an onslaught of double-switch casting, which offers multiple advantages to the Hollywood movie industry. First, as Instapunk pointed out just a few days ago, there's a real and increasing shortage of male actors capable of playing men who aren't metrosexual castrati. Couple this with the increasing aggressiveness and ambition of contemporary women, and you have a solution to a longstanding problem. There still aren't many interesting dramatic parts for women, for some reason, and today's female actors are therefore determined to cross gender lines to get more screen time and juicier dialogue. Filmgoers will benefit too, particularly in the red states where attendance at Hollywood movies has been declining because of the perception that they're way too gay. Here's where the double-switch can come to the rescue at the box office. When Cate and Brad get it on as Bob and Joan, viewers will still be able to imagine that the traditional unseen parts are operating in traditional ways, even though the visible parts are bass-ackwards, if you know what we mean. Everybody wins. Female actors get to pretend they're brilliant men instead of frustrated feminists. Male actors get to indulge their ballooning feminine side. Movie audiences get to pretend that sex itself is still pretty much proceeding the way it always used to (even if it isn't). And Hollywood producers will make enough money to keep all their gay lovers happy.

Here are some similar projects rumored to be in the works:

A new film biography of Napoleon with Janeane Garofalo as the short, humorless emperor and Orlando Bloom as Josephine.

A blockbuster remake of Gone With the Wind starring Ashton Kutcher as Scarlett, Demi Moore as Rhett, Halle Berry as Ashley, and Bruce Willis as Hattie McDaniel.

An Andrew Lloyd Webber musical adaptation of Citizen Kane in which the eponymous protagonist will be played by Rosie O'Donnell and Dakota Fanning (Kane as a child sledding on Rosebud), while the part of Kane's tragically unhappy wife will be filled by Johnny Depp.

What's that? You're not excited about these developments? Then we won't even mention the planned Godfather remake with Kirstie Allie as Don Corleone, Anjelina Jolie as Michael, and Matt Damon as Diane Keaton. Not one† word.

Bet you're sorry now.




Wednesday, May 24, 2006


Lay Off The Speaker Guy.

Dennis What's-His-Name. You'd have heartburn too.

PSAYINGS.5Q.45. People are being very unkind to the Big Fella who sits on top of the House of Representatives. Sure, he defended William Jefferson's right not to have his congressional stash searched. Does that mean he should be treated like this (h/t InstaPundit)?

Iím now a former republican

Hastert tells President Bush FBI raid was unconstitutional

Just sent this to my congressman:

Please inform the Republican leadership that Iíve listened carefully to their comments about Mr. Jefferson and the searching of his office. I have thought about what they have said and decided to change my party affiliation. I no longer wish to be counted as a republican. The speaker has been a weak voice for cutting spending and for immigration reform but a loud voice when his own privilege is at stake.

I no longer know what this party stands for except apparently the self-protection of its own elected officials.

Sheesh. If you kept a full-size refrigerator in your suit, wouldn't you be just a little protective of your right to have a 12-course meal snack when you want one without the FBI crawling up inside your haberdashery? Sure you would. Even the thought of all those flatfoots rooting through your private comestibles would be enough to give you an upset tummy. (And it takes a BIG tummy to feel all of William Jefferson's pain about now.) As for all that "unconstitutional" talk, The Speaker has been way too hungry busy the past few years to do more than scan the dadblasted thing -- or failing that, have it scanned for him by a waiter staffer. Anyway, what he probably really meant to say was that searching congressional refrigerators is uncondimental. We agree.

Cut him some slack. If you want to know exactly how much slack he needs, you can contact his tailor here.

UPDATE. Not surprisingly, Michelle Malkin is linking to more abuse of What's-his-name. She's obviously way too thin to understand the sensitivity of the fridge issue.




Monday, May 22, 2006


Esoteric Poker.

The Dems have a full house.

PSAYINGS.5A.13. There are only a few hands that beat a full house. That's why the Democrats are so confident about their chances in the 2006 and 2008 elections. We have to agree. Gosh, it'd take royal flush or something like that to best the party that has no foreign policy and no domestic agenda but raising taxes. Wouldn't it?



Maybe they should use a different deck in November.




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