humor

LMAO

jacob2 Comments

This is absolutely fucking priceless. Michael Goldfarb, official McCain blogger extraordinaire, has been hard at work denigrating anti-McCain bloggers and New York Times editorial writers as being just like “the average Daily Kos diarist sitting at home in his mother’s basement and ranting into the ether between games of Dungeons & Dragons.” He seems rather enamored of the analogy, seeing as how he keeps using it.

I see he’s painted a target on himself. Let the fun begin in three… two… one...

After the first insulting comment, Goldfarb backed away, while sticking to the vernacular: “If my comments caused any harm or hurt to the hard working Americans who play Dungeons & Dragons, I apologize. This campaign is committed to increasing the strength, constitution, dexterity, intelligence, wisdom, and charisma scores of every American.”

This led my friend Adam Serwer to raise an excellent point.

That’s the kind of deep, personal animosity that you associate with experience, which clearly Goldfarb has. It’s not hard to imagine that some basement somewhere holds the abandoned d20s, dusty rulebooks, and broken heart of a young Michael Goldfarb who never got to be Dungeon Master because he wouldn’t stop yelling. In fact, it’s hard not to wonder if, when Michael Goldfarb is berating the D&D players of the world, he’s really just berating Michael Goldfarb.

Ta-Nehisi Coates added, “[W]e often are what we hate. Goldfarb remark smacks of a geek trying to get down by slamming other geeks.”

The good news is, the “Pro-Obama Dungeons and Dragons crowd” is apparently getting organized. I can’t help but wonder if the McCain campaign has inadvertently woken an angry nerd army….

This is what happens when you behave like a supercilious little snot toward people intelligent enough to work out the gawd-awful complexities of the D&D system.

Methinks Goldfarb’s dug hisself a hole even Elminster couldn’t magic him out of.

LMAO
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Versimilitude of Voters and Vermin Verified

jacob

When the ship begins to sink, the rats will flee. Or so the story goes.

Well, some voters are smart enough to follow suit:

Well before Sens. Barack Obama and John McCain rose to the top of their parties, a partisan shift was under way at the local and state level. For more than three years starting in 2005, there has been a reduction in the number of voters who register with the Republican Party and a rise among voters who affiliate with Democrats and, almost as often, with no party at all.

While the implications of the changing landscape for Obama and McCain are far from clear, voting experts say the registration numbers may signal the beginning of a move away from Republicans that could affect local, state and national politics over several election cycles. Already, there has been a sharp reversal for Republicans in many statehouses and governor’s mansions.

In several states, including the traditional battlegrounds of Nevada and Iowa, Democrats have surprised their own party officials with significant registration gains. In both of those states, there are now more registered Democrats than Republicans, a flip from 2004. No states have switched to the Republicans over the same period, according to data from 26 of the 29 states in which voters register by party. (Three of the states did not have complete data.)

My goodness, imagine that. Being the party of ignorant, raving, criminal fuckwits can actually lose you voters in the long run. A-fucking-mazing.

Just so we’re clear, I count myself as one of the vermin. I jumped the great ship Independent for the Democratic this year when I realized that there was no use in voting independently – all of the tolerable candidates are bunched up in the Democratic party. Might as well face facts, eh?

I just hope this trend continues. It’s nice to believe that my fellow Americans have at least some small sense of self-preservation here. Besides, it’s entertaining as hell. I do so love watching sane conservatives flee an insane group of outrageous fuckwits.

Versimilitude of Voters and Vermin Verified

Religion Is Dangerous In So Many Ways

jacob1 Comment
I don’t think anyone aside from fundamentalist Christians and people who are afraid of “universe is a friendly place my child” overdoses think Wicca’s dangerous, but all religion is dangerous. It’s not just the fuzzy thinking, the human tendency to go all “my god/dess is better than your god/dess,” and the very real risk of dying of boredom during interminable religious ceremonies – the sharp objects aren’t safe, either:

LEBANON, Ind. – A woman accidentally stabbed herself in the foot with a 3-foot-long sword while performing a Wiccan good luck ritual at a cemetery in central Indiana.

Take a moment to fully savor this. She stabbed herself in the foot during a good luck ceremony.

If that’s not irony, my darlings, I have no idea what is.
Religion Is Dangerous In So Many Ways

Who Needs Comedy When You've Got Worldnut Daily?

jacob1 Comment

These aren’t tears of sadness glistening on my cheeks, my darlings. Not by half.

Make sure you’re securely seated with drinks fully swallowed. Ready? Go:

When Barack Obama looked Americans in the metaphoric eye and told them he was not and was never a Muslim, he had, admittedly, been worshipping at the Trinity United Church of Christ for 20-odd years. So we know for certain that he is not a Christian.

Pause.

Longer pause.

Bwah-ha ha ha ha ha! Hee hee whadafuckinmoron heh ha ha *snort* ohjeez. Heh.

I think I strained a muscle…. Ed Brayton’s got more where that came from, if you’re up to it. I need to go have a lie-down.

Who Needs Comedy When You've Got Worldnut Daily?

Popular Tastes Frighten Me

jacob3 Comments
I took some time away from the blogging to mess about with Project Playlist and my Amazon recommendations. The results have been instructive.

First off, it disturbs me that Amazon thinks I want Madonna CDs just because I bought Duran Duran and U2. They need to develop a smarter program, one that can look at the totality of purchases and say, “While Dana might appreciate a few cheesy pop bands, things like Madonna are right out. Let’s not make her want to projectile vomit this evening.”

Second thing, I can pretty much tell just from the search results if I’m going to like the music. If the artist search returns more than a few selections, it’s probably not my cup o’ tea.

It’s an interesting aspect of my psychology. There are a few things that take the culture at large by storm that I adore – take Batman, for instance – but my tastes usually run to the obscure. I don’t usually run with the pop culture crowd. When I worked for a bookstore, I was able to determine which books would make me want to flick a Bic by the number of people salivating over them. That helped me avoid a lot of utter crap. Like John Gray. *Shudder.*

Music’s no different. People love to ask me what I listen to, and when I tell them they’ve never heard of it, they get all puffed-up. “I have eclectic tastes!” they announce. “Bet you I’ll know it!”

After I’ve bludgeoned them with Emperor, Dimmu Borgir, Nightwish, Operatica, Epica, Sirenia, and Blind Guardian, they usually give up, eyes glazed and neurons fused. There’s only so many times you can ask, “What kind of music are they?” before you realize you owe me a dollar.

Thanks to Amazon and Project Playlist, I’ll now have a new batch of fun. How many here have heard of Delain? Combichrist? Helium Vola? Estampie? Jon Oliva’s Pain?

I thought as much. But that’s okay – my tastes aren’t your tastes. Understandable.

The thing that really climbs up my nose is when people who listen to every pop phenomenon that hits the airwaves, watch every episode of Survivor, and read whatever tripe Danielle Steele’s spewed out now try to claim they’re eclectic. Loving everything everybody else does doesn’t make you eclectic – it just means you’re a trend slave. Which can be fun and fulfilling, I’m sure, but for fuck’s sake, know your limits. Don’t try to go head-to-head with a black metal chick with a heavy appreciation of the symphonic who didn’t pass out when read Chuck Palahniuk’s story “Guts.”

It’s an accomplishment:


While on his 2003 tour to promote his novel Diary, Palahniuk read to his audiences a short story titled “Guts”, a tale of accidents involving masturbation, which appears in his book Haunted. It was reported that to that point, 40 people had fainted while listening to the readings.[13] Playboy magazine would later publish the story in their March 2004 issue; Palahniuk offered to let them publish another story along with it, but the publishers found the second work too disturbing.

Yup.
And if you want to know the truth, Chuck’s works disturb me a lot less than pop culture. I just don’t get pop phenomina. And it frankly terrifies me that millions upon millions of people’s imaginations get captured by such things as Brittany Spears.

Paris Hilton.

American Idol.

Chicken Soup for the Soul.

Excuse me, please. I suddenly feel faint…
Popular Tastes Frighten Me

Why Christian Businesses Should Read the Articles They Link To

jacob2 Comments

Occasionally, I check Sitemeter to see Who’s Honoring Me Now (copyright Stephen Colbert). Occasionally, that turns out to be extraordinarily amusing.

Take, for instance, this referral:

Weird, says I. What the fuck would a site called Profit God’s Way be referring people to me for? Unless they’re bitching about me… There was that article on shady Christian businesses that wasn’t too flattering. Bet they’re pissed! Yippee!

So off I click to discover what awful things are being said about me. All I get is this:

Well, that’s disappointing. Just a lame fucking advertisement. But I’ve got to be on this page somewhere: otherwise, no one would’ve clicked through it to my blog.

*scroll scroll scroll* HA HA HA HA HA! Aren’t they cute?


(click to embiggen)

Still no me. What the fuck?

*scroll scroll Your product is so great!!1!!1!! blah blah scroll scroll scroll*

*pause*

*really long pause*

Seriously?

THEY FUCKING LINKED TO MY ARTICLE! AH HA HA HA HA HA! HEE HEE HEE! WAH-HA HA HA HA SNORT WHEEZE BWAH HA HA – ow. I think I strained something.

So no shit. I had to go surfing through the site to verify it wasn’t a spoof. Had to be a spoof, right? I mean, who’s gonna be that stupid?

Forget I asked.

Self-explanatory, really.

I don’t know how long I’ll be up there before someone figures out that – how do I put this delicately? – linking to my article isn’t quite in keeping with the overall message of their website. In fact, it’s pretty fucking counter-productive. I’m sure my enshrinement there will be temporary.

But the amusement value will last me the rest of my life.

Why Christian Businesses Should Read the Articles They Link To

Monkey Boy George Struts His Stupid for the World's Most Powerful Leaders

jacob3 Comments

Remember what I was saying about America needing a President with an actual sense of humor?

Yeah.

The American leader, who has been condemned throughout his presidency for failing to tackle climate change, ended a private meeting with the words: “Goodbye from the world’s biggest polluter.”

He then punched the air while grinning widely, as the rest of those present including Gordon Brown and Nicolas Sarkozy looked on in shock.


Thanks for proving my point, Georgie Boy. You are teh funny – if we’re defining “funny” as “tremendous psychotic fuckwit who should’ve been institutionalized long ago.”

Does anybody have one of those hook-thingies they used to snag embarrassing idiots off the stage with? America needs one ASAP.

Tip o’ the shot glass to LuLu at Canadian Cynic, who unloaded both barrels of sarcastic buckshot into our fearless leader’s bare buttocks earlier today, and thus eased some of my pain.

Monkey Boy George Struts His Stupid for the World's Most Powerful Leaders

Hey, John Pieret! I Am Too a Philosopher!

jacob3 Comments
Just over a week ago, when we were all having our way with Ken Ham, John Pieret at Thoughts in a Haystack said this:

John Wilkins has, coincidentally (or perhaps not), just posted an excellent meditation on the claim that God is necessary for morality,
“The evolution of morality.” Dana, in the more direct language of the non-philosopher has made much the same points.

Now, I have to admit I felt a bit put-upon. Not a philosopher? Am too a philosopher! After all, I’m an American who thinks – that’s practically Plato right there! I’ve got at least a plausible claim of being a street philosopher, don’t I?

Apparently, I do:

And I’ll have you know there’s a section for Politix, which I could have ended up in. But I didn’t. Not Politix. Imma Philosophy. So there.

The above screen shot comes from a site called Voice From The Pack. Aside from an exquisite taste in philosophy, the blog boasts a masterful spanking of Denyse O’Leary. And, by way of a change from the blogs I normally read, there’s some good bits on climate change as well. Not that the rest of us don’t care about global warming and the silly fuckers who deny it, but we’re so busy paddling the never-ending parade of media dumbshits, Constitution-shredding politicians, and IDiots that we don’t spank the global warming skeptics quite as much as we might like.

And did I mention that Harebell has excellent taste in philosophy?

*Of course you know I’m not seriously upset with John. I even agreed with him – but hell if I was going to pass up a chance like this!

Hey, John Pieret! I Am Too a Philosopher!

Don't Start a Religion in My Name!

jacob12 Comments

Every novel comes with a standard disclaimer:

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.


The disclaimer itself is a brilliant work of legal fiction. I think everybody knows by now that authors filch shamelessly from real life. Resemblances are far from coincidental. Everybody just pretends otherwise when it comes time to go to court.

That disclaimer shall have to be expanded when I publish my magnum opus:

This work of fiction is entirely made up (aside from those bits the author filched from real life, like the entire city of Seattle, WA), and should not be used as a manual, scripture, handbook or other guide to live your life by. No matter how much you make like and/or agree with the gods, spirits, xenospecies, characters, ideas, faiths, worldviews, etc. contained herein, any attempts to start a religion in the author’s and/or characters’ names is strictly prohibited. Willing suspension of disbelief should only be employed within the pages of this book. Critical faculties
should be fully utilized once the cover is closed. The author is not responsible for the havoc wreaked by over-enthusiastic fans and their inability to separate fictional reality from actual reality.

And if you attempt to name your children after the aliens, planets, offworld locales, ships, or other completely made up shit contained within this book, the author reserves the right to fetch you a right ding round the earhole on behalf of your humiliated offspring.


All right, so I’ll need a lawyer to couch that in legalise, but you get the idea.

I seriously worry about this stuff, and with good reason. I’ve heard of the spate of Galadriels and Arawens that occurred after people read too much Lord of the Rings. I’ve seen the lines of folks dressed up in Star Wars gear, camped out for days waiting for the next giant turd George Lucas serves up. I knew a man who regularly wore his Star Trek: TNG captain’s uniform and knew how to say “Take your ticket and get on the damned boat” in Klingon. The fact he worked for a boat rental outfit on Lake Powell and thus had good reason for learning that particular phrase is beside the point.

But the worst, absolute most horrifying, moment was when a college roommate perused my map of Athesea, plunked her finger down on it, and said, “If I have a son, I’m going to name him Daneth!”

I explained to her in no uncertain terms that no, she bloody well would not name her son after a valley on Athesea. No child should have to suffer the massive bullshit a name like that would bring down on him. After I explained the taunting, teasing, and incomprehension that poor child would likely endure, she agreed that Daneth was probably not a very good name for a boy after all.

But I can’t be there for every fan. I can’t tell each of them personally that while I’m flattered they loved my story so much they want to dress like my characters, learn their language, follow their gods, and destroy children’s lives with names that sound wonderful in the book, if they do any of the aforementioned things, I shall be forced to beat some sense into them.

Some of it would be harmless, yes. We all have fun playing someone else for a while. It’s just that I don’t know how the hell I’d react at a book signing if faced with some poor dipshit dressed to the nines with two fake swords swinging from his or her hips, bubbling over with enthusiasm about how utterly awesome the Xtaleans are. And what people might do trying to imitate my Unicorns doesn’t even bear thinking about. I’m either going to burst out laughing, sobbing, screaming, or all three.

I don’t mind folks taking inspiration from what I write. Some of the issues I write about, I’d love it if that’s the way the world worked. If my book inspires some people to give up their fear of teh gays, stop killing each other over religion, and treat the planet with more respect, that’s fantastic. That’s part of what I’d like them to think more about. Fiction is, after all, a way of telling the truth through lies. You can learn a lot about yourself, fellow humans, and the world by approaching it through the eyes of fictional characters.

However.

Comma.

I do not, repeat not, want to hear that the Church of Scientology suddenly has a rival based off a novel by Dana Hunter.

I don’t want to hear about people worshipping Tarlah, because a) he’s a construct of my mind and b) he’s not even a bloody god nor c) a bloody he, when it comes right down to it.

And there’s going to be at least one person who swears up and down they’ve heard my message and they’re prepared for the secret war against Sha’daal. I can see that one coming ten thousand miles away. After all, I hung about with a guy in high school who thought Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series wasn’t so much excellent fantasy as concise history. OMFG. Shoot me now.

So I’m putting this out here now, so that I can refer the wankers who can’t separate fantasy from reality back here before I try to bash some sense back into them with a three-pound hardcover book. I want them to read the following sentence carefully:

Do not under any circumstances mistake fiction for reality.

My characters can and should seem real. My worlds can and should seem like actual places. That’s what the willing suspension of disbelief is all about. But they aren’t bleeding real.

And it shall go very hard for any reader who believes otherwise.

Do any of you other fiction writers in the audience ever worry about this kind of shit?

Don't Start a Religion in My Name!