Holy Shit... This Thing Still Exists?!? A Year of Important Demises!

Wow... I figured that in the ever increasing insanity of the internet, this thing would have been firebombed by now. Oh well... I guess I'll have to get my fix for digital violence somewhere else. So, without further ado....

Welcome back you crazed, filthy degenerates! It seems like only yesterday I was spewing this jibberish out and maybe five of you would be reading it. To those of you who never did... I know where you all live, goddamn it! And for those of you who actually took the time to read this insanity, I advice you to seek psychiatric therapy for at least a calendar year! Christ!

Apparently, it's been almost a year since the last Rampant post. Who could have guessed it? Perhaps I've spent too much time drinking Nyquil while barricading myself in the bathroom to defend against the communist hordes that compose my apartment complex. But I digress. Think of all that has happened in the last 365 days. Some pretty astounding things, but mostly... events that make me want to raid a dentist's office, strap myself to the nitrous oxide tank, and breathe deep until everything is cartoon characters and a Grateful Dead soundtrack. And not anti-semetic, conglomerate rodent cartoons, either! Good lord, what sort of absurdity is this? I better pay closer attention.

I've been debating with myself, aloud, for the past few hours (much to the dismay of my neighbors) on which topic was the most important event of the last year? I mean, I really do have a list to work with here. Obviously there's Osama bin Laden, the slanderous pervert and abhorrent cur of the millennium, getting gacked by a SEAL team while rubbing one out to Pakistani porn. By the power of Greyskull... I couldn't have ASKED for a better storyline on that one! Now, I've actually heard a few people round here complain in regards to our impromptu "burial" for that pubic-faced fuckstick (for those of you not acquainted with me, you're probably already horribly offended by now. Hell, even if you DO know me... you're probably offended. Truthfully, there are times I find it hard to deal with myself. But you know what... this is MY goddamn block of cyber-territory, so if you don't like it... get bent!). They claim that, despite the atrocities committed by him, it isn't right to disrespect someone's body and last rites. To those people I have only one thing to say to them... after I stop hitting them with a bamboo switch, of course: whatever sinkhole that gangly mass-murderer is decaying in, probably getting chewed the fuck up by all sorts of ugly aquatic critters... it's a lot better than what I would have set up! Personally, I would have liked to disrespect him further by using his lifeless heap in a grotesque marionette display for every 9th grade in America! Now THAT might be extreme... but then again, we could have always used him as a national pinata. So you've got to pick your battles, dammit.

Alright, we're really rolling here. So Osama gettin' diced by Obama (man there is some sweet, sweet comedic poetry in that one. Also considering after 8 years and 2 wars, George "Dubbya" Bush probably came closer to understanding his first Aesop fable than catching bin Laden). But let's not forget about another Middle Eastern jackass who got popped (and in this case... in more ways than one. Hayoo!). That's right. Muammar Gaddafi, the Jheri curl rockin' dictator who closely matched Leatherface's complexion, was killed by, and I quote Doc Brown: "WHO DO YOU THINK? IT'S THE LIBYANS!" Yes, yes... in accordance with the recent wave of internal uprisings and social movements throughout the Arab world, apparently Libyans got tired of being oppressed by a pig-faced tyrant with a penchant for colorful dresses. Can you blame them? Think about how frustrated were people with J. Edgar Hoover, and he was just a drag queen in private! Imagine being subjugated to war crimes and torture at the hands of man in a golden dress: honestly, I'd rather take the indignity of being beaten to death by crowbar wielding drunk, cross-eyed little people wearing the Village People outfits! But, unfortunately for Gaddafi... his death wasn't quite the end. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, it is now possible to watch the corpse of Muammar Gaddafi getting sodomized by a pipe-wielding gang of insurgents. Frankly... I think that speaks for itself! MOVING ON...

In all honesty, as per all of these absurd ramblings, I really had no direction when I started this. But, thinking about it... I think we've hit on something here. 2011 was loaded with some substantial demises... specifically tyrannical, maniacal nutbags! And what better way to end that theme than with the Korean phenom... Mr. Kim Jong-Il. Yes yes... the charter member of the Asian chapter for the James Brown Hair Club for Men has passed on. For a man who had three holes-in-one the very first time he played golf... ol' Kimmy might have missed his true calling. Unofficial dictator of a fictitious "republic" has its benefits for sure, but still... I could have seen that little man and his Elizabeth Taylor sunglasses (recently deceased, but to her we wish her peace) rocking the PGA circuit!

Before we move on from this morbidity crap... there are a few more names to be mentioned to the Reaper's admission list. Steve Jobs: absolute mad scientist who actually had his consciousness digitalized so he can take over Earth's technology... aka: SKYNET! Charles Napier: Strangely enough, the Kentucky actor with a chin proportionate to Mt. Rushmore died on the same day as the maniacal Mr. Jobs. With no disrespect, I'll probably only remember Napier as that hillbilly from The Blues Brothers. Jack Kevorkian: Did someone pull his plug? Too soon? Not soon enough? Whatever. Joe Frazier: Smokin' Joe Frazier, one of boxing's legends, was lost to use this year. Going 32-4-1 in his career, he was an Olympic fighter and once undisputed World Heavyweight champ. Now, if only he was able to hold on to some of his earnings... ehhh, I best not go down that road. Last but not least, Elizabeth Taylor: A starlet of old-school Hollywood, she was an icon of a time lost. But, I have to say... anyone who owns $150 million worth of diamonds needs to be forced to visit Sierra Leone in order to witness the cost of that glamor.

Ooookay, now. I guess that wraps that up. When the hell did I start doin' obituaries? Sweet Zombie Jesus, is that what I've become? Have I sunk to the level of a hunchbacked corpse-junkie lurking around a morgue?!? Hold up... keep cool. Need to stay calm, here. Let's just get into some random thoughts to wrap up. The Occupy Movement: What originally started off as an ambitious social movement to try and invoke cultural change ended up failing, resulting in a community of circle drummers and pseudo-hippies. Maybe if they dropped the goddamn patchouli and worked on a concise message and plan, they would have accomplished something. But alas, never happened. The Arab Spring: unlike their filthy, flea-riddled American cohorts, waves of Middle Easterners have stood up and, through genuine social movement and democratic practice, fought back against their corrupt leadership. The End of the Iraq War: After 8 years, American military forces ceased operations in Iraq. How can I make any snide, sarcastic, or witty remark to that? It was a genuine great moment, and I am happy to welcome back friends that have put their lives on the line fighting for the rest of us. To the men and women of America's military... we thank you for your service.

Well... I suppose that's it. I am well aware that this sort of detritus is like digital crack to you fiends, so I'll try and get back to you soon. Trust me, I never run out of things to complain about for sure. Such as driving in Los Angeles, Hollywood's current obsession with remakes/sequels, and why Russell Brand is a tumor on the soul of humanity. Now how about some cocktails, people? It's bound to be night time somewhere.

-s/j.@

Resurrection

Thought I forgot about you, my children? Well think again: the alimony never stops coming!

Yes. It is has been a while since we last spoke, and talk about a tumultuous time! More violence in the world, more examples of Mama Nature trying to kick our asses, and yes... even more stupidity from our lady in retardation Sarah Palin. But that isn't what I'm here for today. So shut your traps and get comfy!

It was Alanis Morissette who said it best: "What it all comes down to... is that no one's really got it figured just out yet." Such a better testament to the youth today has never been stated. The angst and sense of the unknown from the 90's has grown into something far more insidious. It is a creature that lurks in the shadows behind our eyelids: it is the loss of a point!

Those of us in our mid-twenties no longer have anything to look forward to; our lives have become a mathematical equation... devoid of the variable known as experience. We are raised in elite, private kindergartens... where playing with blocks is no longer acceptable. From the time we can talk we need understand the nature of ourselves; by the time we are able to walk we are expected to be varsity athletes. Colleges have become four year vocational schools, around merely to gain us less-than-gainful employment. More and more we are encouraged to think less and less. In the place of imagination, we have been overcome by the Digital Holocaust: from birth we are plugged into electronics... the manipulative stimulii of the electronic menace. Books are obsolete, toys are distractions, and crayons have been deemed grossly inefficient. There is not one moment when the world isn't one click away.

But when was it decided FOR us that we had to be perfect? And those before us wonder why we're so fucked up? We never really figured our shit out because we were never really given the chance. We just inherited our sins.

-s/j.@

Depletion in Hollyweird

Evening, my darlings...

While the official results are not quite in, I think it's safe to say: Hollywood is dead. Well, that's not entirely true. The narcissistic 'I'm rich-fuck the rest of you' decadent lifestyle still exists; in fact, its thriving more than ever in this post-production full consumption nepotistic yuppie-clan generation. What I mean is that the 'Pax Romana' of the Hollywood film industry is gone... buried beneath the unimaginative detritus of remakes, sequels, and Russel Brand movies. It is pretty sad... especially that last one.

Take a minute to think about it. In the last few years, there have only been a handful of worthwhile films made, while the thearters are flooded with knock off blockbusters that were most likely written by folks with the creative/imaginative capabilities of a coffee mug. And that might be a discredit to the mugs of the world: at least they can hold liquid. But maybe the fault lies elsewhere. Somewhere darker and infinitely more insidious than a Medellin cartel hangout: executive offices. Yes... the corporate thugs that wield their power and authority like a briefcase full of cocaine have slipped a nose over the neck of creative screenplay writing. These licentious miscreants have opted to play on the absent-mindedness of the American masses, relying upon image over talent (cast of the Twilight series... I'm talking about you) and guaranteed money over expression (the epitome of this embodied by the Clash of the Titans remake's impending sequel. Seriously... a sequel to a remake?!? Are they serious?). Such is the curse of the industry today: they traded art for paychecks.

How could this have happened? When did we, the audience, begin to settle for average or begin to anticipate the same old thing done on repeat? And it does further than just the writing. The craft of acting seems to have been tossed into a pit of cannibalistic neophytes while the rest of us watch the carnage with a $7 bag of popcorn. Look at Johnny Depp... once famous for his 'indie-film mindset' displayed best in the gangly roll of Edward Scissorhands, or his astounding portrayal of the Father of Gonzo, Hunter S. Thompson, in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Now, he has been type-cast into a series of films based off a Disney ride with animatronic puppets. That or some cookie-cutter action flick alongside Angelina Jolie. Then there's Robert Downey jr. The black sheep of Tinsel Town (a role Charlie Sheen has unanimously usurped), whose sardonic wit stole the show in Wonderboys, is now stuck playing either an eccentric Victorian-era inspector or an eccentric billionaire superhero. Even my girl Natalie Portman has experienced the decline, thanks to the Master of Fuck-Ups... the washed up jackass George Lucas. (True... the original Star Wars were revolutionary and brilliant... but his prequels are, in a word, atrocious. And you have to question a man who makes Star Wars: A New Hope only to fund Howard the Duck!!) Luckily, Natalie pulled herself up back into respect, rockin' her unbelievable talent once more most recently in Black Swan.

Sure... it's easy to blame the Suits for the decline. But we have to take a lot of the credit and, seeing as how I'm complaining... I wash my hands of this madness. Stop accepting the trite bullshit that Hollywood throws your way and charges you a ridiculous sum for; it's far too similar to pigs lining up at the troth... patiently awaiting their slop! It's time to hold Hollywood accountable for its actions once more, and demand that quality be invested. Besides... if I see one more movie with that lanky, self-aggrandizing, short-bus riding heroin junkie Brand in another movie... I'm goin' postal on all of you! Sleep tight with that night light, you fiends.

Generation: Envy

Well... I am fully convinced now that, if God truly existed, he is dead.

This belief of mine started a few days ago. I was driving down Santa Monica Blvd., braving the mass crowd of idiotic Los Angeles on the road, when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye which made me pull over. It was a billboard. Now, I know you're all smugly saying that is the point of a gigantic, roadside advertisement... but you can go straight to Hell. Because you too would feel sick too. It was a billboard for Amstel Light (an atrocious beer to begin with), with three joggers on a grassy meadow running towards the foreground. And, to make matters utterly worse... the lead jogger was Lance Armstrong. Lance 'fucking' Armstrong... Mr. Superhero and Integrity. If it weren't bad enough that he is the forefather of one of this century's most pretentious and aggravating fashion statements.... the 'Livestrong Bracelets.' (Okay... don't let it be misunderstood. I don't hate the message those bracelets stand for. I hate them because people no longer care about their meanings... just as long as they match their outfits!) When a socio-cultural icon falls from grace so hard they are forced to do Amstel Light commercials... you have your proof of the Divine's expiration.

A late night phone conversation with a close friend and one of the few people I actually consider sane recently brought even more to light that riled me up. We got to talking about our present day society and our specific generation. Mostly, how this generation is so fucked up in the head, we can't tell our ass from our ankles. We are a generation is miscreants: always looking to do the least amount of work we can for the biggest payout. Couple that with a highly nepotistic disposition... and you are looking at the most unambitious batch of Narcissistic neophytes yet. But, my dearies... look deep down and realize the truth: its our own damn fault! That includes you, previous generations stretching as far back as our parents and including any potential older siblings! We are the result of all your misdeeds!

Look at what we have to work with. In lieu of great socio-political leaders like John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King jr., or the thousands of protestors who marched on D.C. to voice their outrage at the war in Vietnam.... we have Sarah Palin and her ilk, the Kardashians, and the ever-astoundingly unintelligent cast of the Jersey Shore. What sicking characteristic do these three troglodytic cabals have in common? REALITY SHOWS!

Life, as we know it, has become a mockery of itself. The idea of the REALITY SHOW will one day be coined as a precursor to the downfall of civilization. Especially since it is ANYTHING BUT REALITY! If you think that reality is a dim-witted ex-governor hooting and hollering with her bigot kids and apathetic husband on ATVs while hunting... I highly recommend seeing a psychiatrist. They're doing some amazing things in anti-psychotics these days. Reality is not some pampered socialite and her horrendously ignorant sisters trotting around the globe looking for new clothing. And if reality really were an amassing of the eight most moronic, degenerate, unintelligent, self-entitled, stereotypical fuck ups.... then I guess its time for me to jump from a very high place.

TV networks pump out this vapid filth and we, like a group of squabbling meth-heads, clamor to take it in... despite the fact that it's killing us. Come on people! Wake up and smell the ammonia that is so desperately needed to sterilize a once idealistic, intelligent, and progressive society. Sarah Palin and her whole family are a cancer to the socio-political infrastructure of the United States because of their stupidity and bigotry (yep... even her 16 year old daughter is a bigot. Bashing a gay kid on FB just because he insulted her mom's show). The Kardashians are the genital warts of America... never contributing a thing, but always irritating and impossible to annihilate. And the nick-named mongoloids of the Jersey Shore are an embolism in the American psyche... waiting to burst. (By the way, I have to raise one quick issue with the inhabitants of the Garden State. Why the FUCK would you ever support a show like that? Are all of you seriously proud of the way those self-aggrandizing proud-to-be-guidos make the rest of you look to the country? Seriously, NJ! You're already the running joke for most of the Northeast... don't make matters worse by endorsing the worst elements of your culture.)

At this point, as always... I'm sure you're asking yourself one question: "where does this opinionated, self-righteous jackass draw the line?" My answer: FUCK your line. If you don't like it, don't read it. But if we have any chance of making it in the world, folks... stop buying tickets to the freak shows, stop feeling nothing but a profound lust and envy for things you don't have and probably need. In the end... you have to be able to take yourself seriously. Those out there rockin' a blowout, Tweeting about your abs, and fist pumping... there is no hope for you and you should be spayed. For all else... welcome to the dull minutia which is everyday life. You will never have all you want, and you probably will die a nobody. But at least you weren't an asshole.

2011: The Age of Persistent Rain!!! (GODDAMN YOU KEVIN COSTNER! YOU MADE THIS HAPPEN!!!)

Well,

When I moved out to Los Angeles... I didn't realize that there was some devious agreement made between the people of the Pacific Northwest and the Devil to swap the weather with Southern California. I mean seriously! For a half of December, it rained in Tinsel Town... and I gotta say, it isn't a pretty sight. Just try and imagine cruisin' down Sunset Boulevard: a million multi-colored lights radiating defiantly in the night sky as distant spot lights offer guidance to some off-limits social event. People dressed in clothing three sizes too small strutting down the sidewalks acting as if they were better than everyone else, and quizzically placed palm trees resting like comatose giraffes. Now add six inches of oily, highly acidic rain water drumming down, making all those beautiful people look like soaked raccoons. Rivers of tepid and semi-viscous waters propel In'N'Out soda cups and and crumpled newspapers and discarded condoms along like some sort of pulp-influenced David Lynch nightmare regatta. It is indeed a horrifying sight.

And from bad to worse... I was in the heart of darkness: Los Angeles International Airport. In a rain storm after the holiday season, to boot! Driving at LAX is like dating a two-face. At times, it can be a leisurely experience lacking any sort of difficulty what so ever. You pull up to the curb, jump out or deposit your passengers, and drive off back to whatever snake pit you originated from. But then the ugly side rears its nasty little head. Traffic comes to an abrupt halt at a "SECURITY CHECKPOINT" long before even getting near the terminals. This checkpoint generally consists of four police officers who are so preoccupied with chit chatting that they wouldn't notice Hunter S. Thompson's disembodied ghost riding the Woody Woodpecker balloon from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. But they stop the cars one by one nonetheless. So A+ for efficiency!

If you are lucky to make it past this first obstacle... you are still in for a miserable experience. I have found in my time out west that Angelinos do NOT know the first thing about sensible driving. They make four-lane changes without even looking, stop abruptly to answer cell phones, run red lights... and stop at the greens. I have seen more order in a Moroccan bazaar that I have on the streets of Los Angeles. While the departure sections are bad... the arrivals are even worse. Stuck in the semi-subterranean canals lined with gargantuan concrete pillars, it is a honeycomb of sorrow. It was within these sado-masochistic tunnels last night, after a grueling 7 hour flight from Boston (containing a narcoleptic Hassidic woman, a screaming baby, and an angry woman who had 4 LAPD officers waiting for her when we landed) that I had these psychotic epiphanies... which immediately invoked rage. That or my taxi driver who made absolutely no attempt to get out of the airport, hiking the meter to $10.25 before I even saw the highway.

For all of this anguish... I blame the rain. Because apparently in Los Angeles, people don't know how to handle inclement weather. Sure, there were mudslides up in Malibu... but really, people! It's goddamn rain! Back in the days of Moses and his desert-trekking menagerie, they would have danced themselves stupid if it rained like this. Yet here, in 2011... the simple act of rain has destroyed social order in the City of Angels. Good grief...

-s/j.@

Post Christmas Bitterness and the End of the World

Happy 4th Day of Kwanzaa, you wonderful degenerates!

Christmas time has come and gone, and none too soon if you ask me. Sure... there are the holiday traditions that I enjoy thoroughly: the Christmas Eve Chinese food chow-down chock full of Mai Tais, gathering oddly wrapped packages before a tree like a shrine to some Pagan arboreal demigod, and the excuse to wear pajamas all day long on Christmas. But beyond that... I can't say I take any more. And on a sudden side note... I must admit I find the idea of Santa Claus highly disconcerting. Think about it: you have an obese, red-faced old man decked out in bright red velour entering your house in the middle of the night while you sleep in order to leave "presents." Why does that come off as a euphemism for a much more disturbing thought? Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

With the end of Christmas, we find ourselves in the Limbo period between celebratory events. The window of December 26th through December 30th is a very strange set of days indeed. It's like a hangover that starts off resembling hunger... but comes in two hours later and kicks your ass six ways from Sunday. People go back to work for a few trepid days before the end all be all of celebrations goes down. And no... I'm not referring to Waiting for the Barbarians Day (real holiday, November 4th). I am referring to New Year's Eve. The Generalissimo of Public Intoxication. Unless, of course, you live in New Orleans.

Yes, folks... New Year's Eve. The curtain call to the previous 364 days during which you undoubtedly committed at least one inane or moronic act. Maybe you made the mistake of sticking a fork in the toaster. Perhaps you got drunk at a company party and referred to your boss's wife as a "bumbling she-cow with the personality of a dead skunk." Oh Hell... maybe you went out drinking with your compatriots and came to three days later in a hacienda outside of Tijuana with a drunken donkey and two Thai strippers named Yum Yum and Bang Bang. Come on... don't be ashamed. We've all be there. And so in light of our shame... we look to the New Year as a chance for redemption. "Tonight is the last night," we tell ourselves optimistically, slinging back shots of tequila as we watch the clock move gruelingly towards midnight. But I have to ask, my glue-huffing followers. Are we not just deluding ourselves in order to justify one more night of debauchery? Do we really believe that on January 1st, we will curb our licentious habits and irregular interests? The way I see it... the new year is just another chance to make the same mistakes twice, perhaps even more drastically than the first time around. Not that I'm trying to make anyone depressed here. I am all for the illusion!

As I have done so often in the past... with the immanent transition to another calendar year, I have to sit back and reflect back upon the highlights of 2010. It seemed like it was going to be a good year... but it ended up sucking pretty much like every other year before it. From WikiLeaks to Glee uber-freaks, nothing noticeably good has happened in '10. Socially, culturally, economically, and now... geographically. Think about it. Weeks into 2010, Haiti broke down like an American made car after a Kristy Alley sized earthquake (which is very, VERY big). Unfortunate as that was... I was saddened more that Americans only took notice after Wyclef Jean made it popular. (And since when did Wyclef have political qualifications? I thought being president of a nation required more than just am overflowing bank account and a career in the entertainment industry. Oh wait... Ronald Regan is already dead.) Talking about earthquakes... just a few months after there were subsequent 'quakes in both China and Chile. Not to mention a few volcano eruptions around the globe. If you ask me (which I always assume you are because you're reading this!), I think Mama Nature is out for vengeance; she's goin' full steam in hopes of laying waste to us with the gusto of a Clint Eastwood film.

As bad as the planet trying as hard as it can to kill us, I think we're doing a pretty good job at that ourselves. It seems Europe has become the continental equivalent of Detroit: smashed in store-front windows, clashes between citizens and police, rubber bullets, tear gass, and more aerial Molotov cocktails than a Russian bachelor party. So essentially... a giant shit hole. There's violent rioting all over the place: France (angry chain-smoking geriatrics demanding their pensions), Italy (long haired soccer players pissed off about a political election... or the season finale of Jersey Shore. They love their guidos), England (students angry over having to possibly pay for college. On this one I have no sympathy. Try coming here you pompous, bucktoothed freaks!), Greece (pita pockets and gyros dropped as public servants watched their jobs disappear. At least the Greeks have the amazing super-dog Loukanikos [literally means a type of sausage]. This dog has been showing up at public protests for the last two years. Find him on Facebook!) and Ireland (rioting just because they can...).

While Europe tears itself apart, Asia is just tearing each other apart. Protestors in Bangkok are killed when the military stepped in, and the Koreans are at each other's throats once more. I truly think Kim Jong Il's secret to his success are the 1970's aviators and his bouffant blowout hairstyle. While Nero fiddled during Rome's burning, ol' Kimmy Jong was picking his hair higher as the north shelled the south for no apparent reason.

So yes... think fondly of the horrors and atrocities of the last year. As you are perched at a bar, maliciously treating your body like a playground, awaiting the new year like a dog eagerly anticipating a treat... remember these words of wisdom: "If last year sucked, next year will probably suck too!" Happy New Year you squabbling Recess monkeys!

Screw Kotter... Welcome Back ME!~ Hell Hath No Fury Like the Holidays

Why hello darlings,

Thought you managed to get rid of me, did you? Well think again! Because we're in a reunion tour that would make Motley Crue sick with envy... if they weren't all slowly dying from some STD or drug reaction. But that's neither here nor there for the moment. Instead, I thought we'd just settle down for a minute.

Frankly... I'm beginning to worry about this country. Alright. Admittedly, I've made that claim on more than one occasion. But this is starting to get ridiculous, people! Look around you. The very infrastructure known as sanity is crumbling faster than a Haitian apartment complex (TOO SOON? Well... my philosophy is deal with it. You can't change anything sitting around moping... so you might as well make light of the situation. Besides... do I actually care if you're upset?). What I mean is look at what our lives have become: a grotesque farce, masquerading as the American Dream. For example... since when did people start caring about eight New Jersey born degenerate scum bags who only take fame for prostituting their stupidity on national TV? Or, when did a yahoo with an IQ that is rivaled by a rocking chair suddenly become a major, beloved political figure? And yes, for the 'hos at home I'm talking about Sarah "THE ANTI-CHRIST" Palin. I mean come on people! It takes about thirteen seconds of staring into those twisted, demented, beady eyes to realize the woman is pure evil.

And what's worse... is she is incredibly dangerous. Why, you may be asking yourself about now. WHY? Give me a break! A vast majority of the jug-whistling WALMART monkeys that constitute Middle America love the woman; they fail to actually listen to the mindless drivel that oozes out of her mouth like a coastal oil spill (which, as a "PROUD" Alaskan... you'd think she'd be against the oil companies. But nope... quite other way around. Jesus...). That does remind me that BP has gone without my ridicule... but that will have to wait for another time. Back to the Bimbo! I truly fear for any potential offspring I have running amok out in the world, because if Sarah Palin becomes the next president of the United States of America... we are all going to die a very public, very disturbing death... the likes of which haunt even a weird mind such as mine! Enough of this for now! Too much caffeine and reading CNN.com is a bad way to start a RANT.

What would a Rampant Rant be without mention of the next impending holiday? Which, of course you know... is jolly ol' Christmas. I simply have to ask... what happened to this holiday? What was once such an austere and sacred day (at least to you Christians out there. For us Hebrews... its just an excuse to stay home and eat Chinese take out) is now nothing more than a sado-masochistic experience set to cheerful jingles. I was walking in Best Buy last weekend and it was like a drunken orgy of violence while bumbling house wives nearly bludgeoned each other to death with their hand bags all in the name of a video game. Good Grief! Is it really worth it? Entering a mall (an already precariously disastrous event) during this time of year is the closest one can come to SPIRITUAL RAPE! But by far... the very worst part of the holiday season is the change in peoples' behavior. For eleven months of the year, we are all cynical, conniving, suspicious, bitter husks... mere remnants of human beings. And yet when December rolls around, people resort to this mutated state of demented, forced happiness. It's like watching a pack of hyenas that got into a batch of blotter acid: nothing good can come from such bedlam. If I have to read one more goddamn Christmas card, riddled with banal platitudes... I'm going to fall deeper into the pit of insanity!

Whew... it's always good to get things out! Wusa and all that jazz; bottling up such a torrent of annoyance causes ulcers. So during this time of irrational pleasantries... remember the seedier side of Christmas: the side where Santa Claus is actually a crack-slinging sex addict, and Rudolph is going to secret Communist meetings in the back of a Korean BBQ joint. And don't even get me started on the Hanukkah Zombie! That is one can of matzo balls I don't want to get into. Happy Holidays you sick, twisted freaks (for you have to be to get this far into my diatribe)!

-s/j.@