Sunday, September 14, 2008

 

NFL Field Pass isn't going to help you here

I was just doing my usual Sunday morning last minute NFL catch-up before finalizing my Fantasy roster and heading off to my regular bar in the Village of the West.  I was reading some article about how Kerry Collins is making his 15th comeback as a NFL starter to replace Vince Young in Tennessee and was snickering to myself about how all of a sudden veteran backups are in vogue.  Pat Kirwin seems to think Matt Cassel is a disaster waiting to happen, but that (Puyallup native) Damon Huard, Kerry Collins, and Brian Griese are going to turn the Chiefs, Titans, and Bucs into offensive powerhouses.  I was distracted from jokes I was making in my head about the Patriots jumping on board the grizzled old QB bandwagon and signing Vinny Testaverde when I noticed the ad on the side of the page that turned my smile into a really, really, REALLY pissed-off frown.  The ad was touting NFL Field Pass, the NFL's online radio broadcast-on-demand service, for fans who live away from their team's city.  I have to say, they couldn't have picked a better example of a fan living in a city downright hostile to his team:


If you are a fan of the Shitsburgh Stealers residing in the 253, 206, or 360 area codes, then you have bigger problems than not being able to hear your games broadcast on local sports radio.  I've heard a couple people say things like, "Oh, there are hardly any Seahawks fans.  Nobody cares about the Seahawks."  NOT TRUE.  In the glorious P-N-Dub, people are obsessed with the Seahawks.  We fly the 12th man flag atop the Space Needle, the Tacoma Dome, and any other imposing structure we can think of.  People travel from Canada and Oregon to go to Seahawks games.  Qwest Field is consistently at capacity and full of Hawks fans in their full regalia.  The Rainier flows as freely as the rain the Pacific Northwest is famous for.  We invest large sums of money in jerseys no matter how dire the season (I own a BROCK HUARD jersey, for God's sake) and neon green Deion Branch gloves and beer cozies and every other bit of Seahawks crap you can think of.  And if there is one team we uniformly HATE in Seattle, it's the fucking Steelers because of their CLEARLY rigged victory in Super Bowl XL.  Granted, they won mostly because of bad penalty calling, but it's a lot easier to hate the Steelers than Bill Leavy and his crew of inept officials.  Besides, the Steelers were assholes about it!  They acted like they actually won fairly, rather than reaped the benefits of fake touchdowns given to Ben Roethlisberger and legitimate touchdowns taken from the Seahawks thanks to phantom offensive pass interference calls.  

If you are the dude in the above ad, you better thank God you can listen to NFL Field Pass in the comfort of your own home, because there's no way you are walking out among the Washingtonians with your Steelers laptop dressed in your generic Steelers jersey and wielding your giant black-and-yellow foam finger.  Venturing out in public like that would virtually guarantee that some Vitamin R-swilling 12th men probably whip your ass mercilessly with your own Terrible Towel, especially if you dared do so outside the city limits of the comparatively more pussified, politically correct Seattle proper.  In my hometown of Puyallup, for example, daring to wear such an outfit at the Roadhouse Tavern would probably ensure that some scowling pick up-driving redneck would drag you away from the pull-tab bar to give you a vicious beatdown in the privacy of the outdoor smoking shelter.  At the very least, some Seahawks loyalist would spit on your food.  If you are a Steelers fan in Seattle, how about rather than subscribing to NFL Field Pass, you GO BACK TO FUCKING PITTSBURGH?!

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Monday, August 25, 2008

 

It's a world of laughter, a world of horny local TV news reporters

Yesterday was my girl MillerTime's big 3-0, and I hope that she enjoyed it more than she thought she might.  Ladies seem to have a lot of trouble with hitting thirty, especially if they haven't yet obtained their MRS degree, and all week I'd been fielding IMs from her saying things like "I can't believe I'm almost THIRTY."  I have no doubt that a few Bacardi and diets at either the Roadhouse Tavern in Puyallup or Doyle's in Tacompton took the edge off, and she enjoyed her thirtieth natal day as much as she did other memorable anniversaries of her entry into the world.

Yesterday as I was at work between incubation times, I was checking out some "news" (read: random bullshit on the blogosphere).  I stumbled across an article that made me wonder if the fates managing strange coincidence weren't celebrating MillerTime's birthday too.
TV journalist fired after ad reported

K TNV-TV, Channel 13, reporter, Jeff Gradney has been fired after he and his girlfriend were accused of soliciting male partners on the Internet.

Gradney, who joined the ABC affiliate three years ago, was dismissed Monday, after a disgruntled employee sent management and staffers a Craigslist ad, a source said, that appeared to show the reporter having sex with his girlfriend. The ad read: "hot, intensely passionate couple looking for a cool guy to play with."

Jim Prather, vice president and general manager of the Journal Broadcast Group station, confirmed Gradney was let go but declined further comment, saying it was a personnel matter.
As it turns out, I have met online "cool guy to play with" solicitor Jeff Gradney.  Back in the summer of 2000, right after I'd moved back to the P-N-Dub from college, MillerTime and I went to the Taste of Tacoma, an annual outdoor summer bacchanal of gluttony. While there, we were approached by this dude, who explained that he was doing a story on the Taste for KING 5 news and wanted to interview us. After a brief interview in which we both confirmed that we liked walking around outside and eating like a couple of fat girls, this dude started hitting on us. At the time I was engaged in a torrid affair with my high school best friend G-Boner's cousin, and I was solely interested in banging him.  However, MillerTime is a perpetual flirt and was going through one of her rare single phases, and exchanged math with him.

"Wouldn't it be crazy if I hooked up with Jeff Gradney, KING 5 TV reporter?"  MillerTime asked, scrutinizing his business card, after he had left to seek more interviewees.

Ultimately MillerTime never did hook up with Jeff Gradney, as he utterly cockblocked himself.  He started blowing up her voice mail with a variety of increasingly sexual messages before she had a chance to respond to the first one.  Any guy leaving multiple voice mails without getting an encouraging call back is at the very least unattractive; it signals desperation and overeagerness.  However, when the messages turn explicitly sexual without any sort of physical encounter or other such precedent to warrant such content, it's creepy and off-putting.  MillerTime didn't call Jeff Gradney back, and we forgot about him for the most part.  I was unaware, for example, that he apparently left KING 5 for Vegas's ABC affiliate beneath a cloak of ignonimy for sexually harassing a host of his female colleagues, as the internets just informed me.  In light of that, I have less sympathy than I normally would for someone getting canned for having a Craigslist-facilitated kinky sex life outside of work (which would be total sympathy; mind your own business, local news station!).

I think, however, it's fitting that this news broke on MillerTime's birthday.  If anything, she can worry less about being thirty and instead thank her lucky stars that she's not getting DPed by Jeff Gradney and some random dude from Craigslist (who I can say from personal experience are a bunch of total winners).  So happy birthday, MillerTime!  Rest assured you are having a better time of it than your former would-be paramour.   

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Thursday, August 07, 2008

 

Mike Lowry had "so many bitches"?

As long as I'm on the subject of Dwayne "Lil' Wayne" Carter and his ridiculousness today, I might as well bring up something that mystifies me almost as much as his fetish for female police officers making siren sounds during coitus. One of the many singles from the sublime Tha Carter III is a song called "A Milli." In the third verse of this jam, Lil' Wayne is talking about his success with the ladies, and he says, "I got so many bitches, I'm like Mike Lowry."

Mike Lowry? Did he really say "Mike Lowry"? As in the toady, bug-eyed Rodney Dangerfield-esque former Washington state Governor Mike Lowry? THAT Mike Lowry?

No, it can't be. While there may be something somewhat endearing about the way Mike Lowry joins fellow former Washington state Governor Gary Locke in laughing at a hilarious story being enacted by yet another former Washington state Governor Booth Gardner, I don't see him having sufficient charm to merit having "so many bitches" that it garners Tha Carter's admiration.

A quick internets search determined that Will Smith's character in the Bad Boys movies is named "Mike Lowrey." While I would actually prefer to hang out with a former governor of the great Evergreen State and Thornton Mellon doppelganger than Will Smith's annoying closet homo Scientologist ass, I do seem to recall something about "Mike Lowrey" being a womanizer in those particular Michael Bay orgies of explosions. When making such a comparison, I assume that Lil' Wayne is more likely to know the details about sluts from Bad Boys than elderly liberal governors from the P-N-Dub. Then again, Governor Mike Lowry chose not to run for a second gubernatorial term amidst a sexual harassment scandal in which he was accused of talking dirty to and fondling his deputy press secretary, so he did at least make a half-assed attempt at ho-running. Maybe Lil' Wayne is just showing respect to all the Mike Lowries who have flashed their player's cards at one point or another in their careers, and hoping to follow in their pussy-stacking footsteps.

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Friday, July 18, 2008

 

Richie Sexson goes where all former Mariners go

As a Seattle sports fan, I'm accustomed to our teams sucking.  The Seahawks spent virtually all of my childhood stinking up the Kingdome.  The Sonics are taking a legacy of loss to Oklahoma City, although on the bright side they are the sole Seattle team to have won a league championship...when I was an infant in 1979.  Despite the fact that at the time most of my attention was devoted to breastfeeding and shitting in my diapers, I know all about the Sonics historic championship season because my mother was considering naming me "Freddie Brown" due to my propensity for jumping around her uterus during the 1978 season in which I was gestating and the Sonics lost the championship to the Washington Bullets.  And the Mariners have had one year after another in which they either suck righteously or win enough to get everybody all excited, only to get unceremoniously knocked out of the postseason, usually by the goddamned sonofabitchbastard New York Yankees.  Seattle should consider adding "soul-crushing sports teams" to its roster of famous exports like Windows software, Weyerhauser timber, and Starbucks coffee.

This year, the Mariners take the prize for the P-N-Dub's most disgraceful team.  The Seahawks had a great draft and I have high hopes that they'll continue to beat the piss out of the rest of the shitshow known as the NFC West this fall.  The Sonics are gone.  That leaves the Mariners, who are without question the worst team in baseball, which I attribute to karmic reward for their hating on hot lesbian makeout sessions at Safeco Field.  They can't hit, can't pitch, and can't win games under any circumstances.  Somebody needs to make a cardboard cutout of the team owner and take off a piece of clothing every time they win a game or SOMETHING to motivate them.  Well, actually, I doubt that any of the Mariners staff wants to see the CEO of Nintendo naked, but that worked in Major League and at this point anything is worth a try because they suck harder than me after ten scotches in a bar bathroom with a willing honey.


Since the M's don't have a diabolical yet potentially hot naked owner who actually wants them to lose and they don't have Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn, Jake Taylor, Pedro Cerrano, Roger Dorn, or Willie Mays Hayes on their roster, they are trying a different strategy to save their team: trimming the fucking fat.  That means getting rid of the overpaid and grossly underperforming marquis players we signed with great fanfare just two short seasons ago, specifically Richie Sexson.


I'm a little disappointed by this because Richie Sexson is 6'8" tall, I get the feeling he's hung like a brontosaurus, and he looks like the type who could fuck my freckles off.   Seriously, check out his pants in the above photo...even when dejected due to yet another strikeout, it literally looks like he has a tail tucked between his legs.  However, if I think with my head rather than my vagina, he shouldn't let the door hit his bitch ass on the way out.  The Mariners signed Sexson to a contract worth $50 million and he's played like he's making the league minimum.  The past two years, he's been batting squarely around .200 with like negative fifteen RBIs and a paltry handful of home runs.  I can hardly blame the M's management for trying to cut their losses.  However, what annoys the hell out of me is the fact that Richie Sexson is going where Gay Rod, Randy Johnson, John Olerud, Tino Martinez, and all departing Mariners always end up: THE FUCKING NEW YORK YANKEES!

Sexson deserves to go play for Satan's own baseball team given his piss-poor performance.  However, I hate the fact that the Mariners are practically a farm team for the fucking Yankees.  Why do all of our players, no matter how good or bad, depart and (excepting Alex Rodriguez's brief layover in Texas) go straight to the goddamned Bronx?  I can only hope that Sexson's slump gets even worse as he dons the pinstripes of the damned and he causes them to plummet to the dregs of the AL East.  Or, barring that, Sexson just contributes to the perennial dearth of offense come playoff time the Yankees have experienced the past few postseasons.  That's the silver lining I was looking for.

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Friday, June 06, 2008

 

Forecast for Seattle: the sucking balls continues

In addition to enforcing bullshit policies against watching two hot ladies play tonsil hockey at Mariners games, Seattle continues its tradition of attempted (and failed) politically correct lameness.  According to the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, the city is contemplating banning beach bonfires because they contribute to global warming.

Good idea, Seattle.  Let everyone know that when it comes to the environment, you are not only the most annoyingly self-righteous city in America, you are also the dumbest.  Because while surely the bonfires at Alki Beach do emit some evil ozone-destroying, planet-warming carbon, so do the trillions of fucking SUVs that clog every single one of your freeways, except exponentially more.   "But the people of Seattle are so fucking green, Razzy!"  you might say.  "I've read about how they all love to throw on their REI fleeces and hit the many beautiful hiking spots in the P-N-Dub!  I've watched 'Gray's Anatomy'!  I like Death Cab for Cutie!  The people of Seattle are obnoxious, smug pseudo-intellectual liberals who love the outdoors and sit around at coffeeshops worshiping Al Gore!  Seattle loves the environment! How could it be that they are among the most gaz-guzzling car addicts on the West Coast?"

I'll tell you how that can be: public transportation in Seattle sucks, as it indicates the engineering skills you would expect from the great minds who unwittingly named their trolley "the SLUT."  When I lived in Tacoma, I worked in Seattle and drove the 35 miles each way up I-5 every day.  I would have loved to take the Sounder, the light rail commuter train that the region unleashed with great fanfare.  However, the Sounder was more expensive than driving (although that may not be true now that gas prices are about twice what they were in 2000-2003), ran only 3 times in the morning and 3 times at night, and ended up in a spot in Seattle where I'd either have to walk over a mile up a very, VERY steep hill to work or take two notoriously inefficient buses.  Even worse, if I had to work late and miss the last Sounder back to Tacoma, I would have to take the bus, which is not only infuriatingly slow (even the express bus), but would drop me off at a different location in Tacoma over a mile away from the Sounder Park and Ride in one of the worst parts of town.  The only thing I can say to the prospect of me walking past all the hookers and crackheads on Puyallup Avenue in my business slutty work clothes after dark is a vehement SHA RIGHT.  It was cheaper and easier to cope with the traffic by rolling solo in my Honda Civic.  Most everyone else living outside Seattle, whether down south like me, on the east side in Bellevue, or north in Everett, thought so too.  Hence there were so many single person occupancy vehicles on the road that it would sometimes take me almost two hours to make the trip between Seattle and Tacoma.

There are many things I love about the P-N-Dub.  And as much as its residents and social scene annoys me, Seattle is a beautiful city with amazing seafood and a hot fucking NFL team.  However, the outrageous stupidity of the ecologically-minded powers that be continues to amaze me.  Rather than devise effective, meaningful new mass transit solutions or create incentives for people to car pool or drive hybrid vehicles or do SOMETHING that would fix the appallingly bad traffic problems, Seattle thinks that it should ban beach fires.  Congratulations, Seattle, on letting the world know that your city leaders are not only dumb as a box of fucking rocks and completely ineffective at realizing its do-gooder goals for the planet, but no fun whatsoever.  At this point there's a 90% likelihood that I'll be coming out to the P-N-Dub this August to squire my pal JerseyGirl around and show her the sights, and we'll make sure to build a beach fire to rival the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory just to be assholes.  Fuck your beach burn ban, Seattle.

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Daily Douchebag: Safeco Field staff

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Name: Safeco Field ushers, staff, and management

DOB: July 15, 1999

Occupation: homophobic, civil rights-infringing assholes

Hometown: Seattle, Washington

Current residence: Seattle, Washington

Douchebaggery: Yesterday, CorporateCard shot me an e-mail with a link to this news story about a couple of hot lezzies who got busted by ushers at Safeco Field for making out during a Mariners game.  Apparently, people seated nearby didn't like them smooching over Safeco's famous (and fucking delicious) garlic fries, and didn't want to have to explain to their children why two women were kissing (my explanation would be "because they're awesome"), so the ushers told them that they'd have to leave if they didn't keep it platonic.  Apart from the squashing of hot girl-on-girl being further evidence supporting my theory that children totally suck, this is bullshit, but it's par for the course when it comes to Safeco Field.

As a native of the glorious P-N-Dub, I have watched the Mariners lose at Safeco many, many, many times.  Safeco is a beautiful ballpark, and catching a game there is one of the best things about being in Seattle during the few months that the skies aren't consistently overcast.  As I mentioned before, the garlic fries are awesome, as is the icy cold Rainier Beer (AKA "Vitamin R") on tap, as is the view of downtown Seattle, the Olympic Mountains, and the Puget Sound.  However, the ushers at Safeco have perennially been famous for their prudish fascism since the Safe opened its doors.  I remember in the first couple years after Safeco's opening, some genius Mariners fans decided to start wearing shirts that said "YANKEES SUCK" on them.  I think almost everyone in the world who isn't among the hateful legions of Satan worshipers AKA Yankees fans) not only appreciates this sentiment, but agrees with it wholeheartedly.  However, Safeco's lame usher staff spotted these shirts, claimed they were "offensive," and made everyone wearing one either take it off, turn it inside out, or get the fuck out of the stadium.  At the time of the "Yankees Suck" controversy, I remember being disgusted with what I marked as typical Seattle bullshit.  Only in politically-correct Seattle is "suck" considered a vulgarity (and again, when "suck" is paired with the word "Yankees," I consider that phrase a sacred utterance), and only in Seattle is wearing a shirt that's considered not nice by some an ejectable offense.  Trust that you could probably walk into Yankee Stadium wearing a hat with a flashing neon sign that says "FUCK THOSE ASSHOLE (insert name of team playing Yankees here)!" and get a damn seating upgrade.  I mean, Alex Rodriguez's wife wore a wife beater that said "FUCK YOU" on the back to Yankee Stadium, for God's sake!  In Seattle, you'd probably be jailed for those kind of foul-mouthed shenanigans.

After a massive public outcry, Safeco Field officials finally conceded that "Yankees Suck" shirts weren't the end of the world, and without much fanfare stopped their dedicated campaign to stifle anti-(sonofabitchbastard) Yankees sentiment among Mariner fans.  However, the ushers at Safeco continue to be totally lame.  One time I went to a Mariners game with a bunch of my colleagues at the company I used to work at in Seattle.  Being a group of highly professional, unbelievably classy science nerds, we smuggled in a flask of booze to augment our overpriced Vitamin Rs.  At some point around the 6th inning, an usher caught us passing it around and confiscated it.

"You can't take our private property!"  I hissed at the usher, who was approximately 97 years old.  "What the fuck are you going to do if we don't hand it over?"

"Call the police," he replied.  We handed it over.

"That's a treasured possession!" protested the flask's owner.  "I insist that I get it back after the game!  You aren't entitled to keep it!"

"Inquire at the security office after the game," said the usher.

The flask's owner and I drunkenly marched to the security office after the game and demanded the flask back.  The security guy was a total dick, and he got out the flask.  "Oh, you mean this flask?" he asked.

"Yes," we said.  "Return it immediately."

"Well, sorry, I can't," he said, taunting us with it.  "You see, it has alcohol in it, and we are obligated not to release any alcoholic substances."

In a move of drunken ballsiness that I probably would never in a million years contemplate doing sober, I snatched it from him and poured out the remaining three swigs of booze in it on the security office floor.  I handed it back to him.

"Problem solved," I said.  "Now give it back to us.  It has sentimental value, and you have no right to confiscate it permanently."

The security guy made some threats about how we had better behave properly at future Mariners games, but gave us the flask.  We went to a bar to drink more with our other colleagues/drunks to celebrate our victory over the nefarious Safeco Field gestapo.

Hearing now that Safeco Field's staff is cracking down on hot chicks kissing is hardly surprising. It merely continues the tradition of intolerant lameness that has become the standard.  Compounding the ass-suckery that is par for the course at Safeco, management is defending their decision to hate on horny dykes as a response to their behavior, not their sexual orientation.  Supposedly, they were kissing, groping, and fondling, which is as gross a violation of Safeco's "family friendly" policy as a "Yankees Suck" t-shirt.  I would argue that since the complaining lesbian was a contestant on "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila," kissing, groping, and fondling come to her as naturally as breathing.  These are civil rights which Safeco Field has no right to cruelly infringe upon.  Besides, the Mariners are as usual underperforming enough to be sitting squarely in last place in the AL West, so it would be nice to be distracted from Felix Hernandez giving up 4 runs to the Red Sox and blowing the game in the 8th inning by some girls getting sexy.  Let the lesbians get it on at Mariners games without worrying about whether or not it will confuse idiot children, you homophobic, hating bastards at Safeco Field!

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Tuesday, May 20, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: TAFKAMA

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Name: the asshole/artist (take your pick) formerly known as Mullah AntoniHo

DOB: May 19, 1978

Occupation: computer badass at Amazon.com

Hometown: Tacoma, Washington

Current residence: Seattle, Washington

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness:  I'm a total creep and a bad friend because I forgot that yesterday was TAFKAMA's big 3-0.  Okay, I didn't forget so much as I rely on my online social networks to remind me when people's birthdays are, I hardly ever go on MySpace anymore, and I sometimes neglect Facebook too, so I didn't know until he reminded me.
TAFKAMA: chat is gay
Razzy: no it's not!
Razzy: it's a great way to waste time
TAFKAMA: it is my b-day
TAFKAMA: 30
Razzy: omg, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Razzy: what are you doing to celebrate???
TAFKAMA: hating
Of course TAFKAMA is spending his birthday hating. TAFKAMA is always grouchy, even when he's having fun. Hell, he's grouchy even when he's having sex! (I know because we did it a few times when we were drunk, although in fairness TAFKAMA and I had an unspoken agreement to keep it pretty vanilla, because above all else we're old buddies and getting too freaky might make things weird, so maybe I mistook his attempts at keeping it casual for crabbiness). He's probably also hating because he's always breaking his ribs when he goes snowboarding, and that makes it hard to breathe, laugh, or eat without pain.  When I went out for lunch with him the last time I was in the P-N-Dub, he looked positively miserable and had enough Vicodin on hand to trank an African elephant.

In the hopes that I might be able to get TAFKAMA to crack one of his little begrudging smiles as a belated birthday present, I'm just going to reflect on some of the highlights of our friendship over the years.  I met TAFKAMA my freshman year of high school, so we've known each other for almost 20 years.  Even more apropos is that TAFKAMA's mom and my mom were friends in high school.  They double dated to prom or something like that.  Anyway, some of my favorite TAFKAMA moments are as follows:
  • We drove through the streets of north Tacoma sometime in 1994 with a flaming copy of The Blue Hawk, this pulp sci-fi novel our sophomore honors world history teacher, Brother Paul, had assigned us as part of his long list of $0.10 paperbacks having something to do with technology and its impact on civilization.  As TAFKAMA drove his beat-up old Dodge truck, AKA "Zog" around with burning pages flying off in our wake, he was sucking on a Djarum clove cigarette and saying, "Burning books is against everything I'm about, Razzy...BUT IT'S AWESOME!"
  • Also sometime in 1994, while studying for some test, TAFKAMA wrote "Angie Sucks" on one of my Adidas Superstars in bright orange marker (I don't know why he had to fuck up my good shoes when there was a perfectly good pair of ugly lesbotic Birkenstock clogs hanging around).  When I finally threw those shoes away with a heavy heart last year, the one TAFKAMA defaced still had a huge orange stain on it.
  • TAFKAMA mastered the internets early, and via Prodigy managed to find pictures of some woman performing fellatio on a Clydesdale at some usenet group called "horselove.alt" or something like that.  At one impromptu party at his house, I remember witnessing this picture with around 20 other horrified teenagers.
  • In high school, TAFKAMA was the only boy who joined my feminist club "the Society for Women's Advancement" (DON'T LAUGH!  Okay, you can laugh).  So what if he only joined to get access to my signs so he could draw devil pictures on them and otherwise deface them with irreverent anti-feminist graffiti; at least he joined and went to at least one meeting (which I'm sure we spent sitting outside Cafe Wa smoking cloves rather than discussing new strategies for "women's advancement").
  • TAFKAMA loved his piece of shit truck Zog so much that last year he bought an identical piece of truck off Craigslist and is currently "fixing it up," which I assume means making it marginally roadworthy.
  • The first time TAFKAMA and I had sex, we were at my house in Tacoma sometime around 2002 or so, and we had just gotten home after a night of whiskey drinking on the town.  How did TAFKAMA seal the deal, you ask?  "Hey Razzy, let's make out," he said.  When I asked why and suggested that our friendship was such that it might be weird, he said, "So?  Making out is fun.  Just shut up and make out.  We'll just say we were drunk if it's weird."  I couldn't argue with that logic, so I just went one step further and fucked him.
  • TAFKAMA's hobby is making jam.  One time he gave me a jar to give my parents.  Now, every time I hang out with TAFKAMA, my dad asks where his jam is.
  • One time TAFKAMA beat a guy up to defend my honor.  Okay, not so much "my" honor as "his sister's" honor, since his sister and I both slept with the same cheating d-bag.  Oh, okay, and TAFKAMA didn't even beat him up about our honor as much as because this guy was overall just a total d-bag for many reasons and TAFKAMA finally got fed up with it.  But he kicked his ass nonetheless.
  • TAFKAMA taught me about the useful little piece of html called target="_blank".  This opens links in new windows.  I realize this is like the html equivalent of 1+1=2, but I'm a computer moron, and I appreciate TAFKAMA's assistance nonetheless.
  • TAFKAMA drinks bourbon and scores mad Seattle pussy.  Wait, I'm not sure that latter attribute is something to be so proud of, because Seattle is full of dumb, annoying skanks.  But still.
  • TAFKAMA is just awesome and I'm so glad we're still friends after all these years.  I hope that the birthday fairy left some hot, sort-of hippie-looking snowboarder chick with an encyclopedic knowledge of Philip K. Dick (or whatever...I know you're an even bigger nerd than me, TAFKAMA) novels on his doorstep to welcome the third decade of his life with a bang.
Hopefully TAFKAMA can stop hating for a few minutes to appreciate the fact that he rules.  Ideally he appreciated that, then drained a few Vitamin R's (Rainier Beer, elixir of the P-N-Dub), and scored some hot chick.   Happy birthday, TAFKAMA!  

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Monday, May 05, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: 1980s Heart


Name: Ann Dustin Wilson and Nancy Lamoreaux Wilson (and a couple other random guys to play the instruments besides Ann and Nancy's respective flute and guitar)

DOB: 1950 and 1954

Occupation: perm connoisseurs, shoulder pad aficionados, rock stars

Hometown: Bellevue, Washington

Current residence: somewhere awesome

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: The other day I was watching some Vh1 "I Love the 80s" trash that I've seen like 100 times before, and I was validated in watching it yet again, because it reminded me of how much 80s Heart kicked ass.  I was raised on classic rock, so trust that I like me some "Barracuda," "Crazy on You," and "Magic Man," but Heart in the 80s really took it to another level.  As one of the archetypal ugly comedian pop culture pundits on Vh1 said, "Heart used to be Lynyrd Skynyrd chicks, and then all of a sudden they were big hair chicks from New Jersey."

Actually, they were big hair chicks from the P-N-Dub, Bellevue, the snobby Seattle suburb where my friend G-Boner currently resides, to be exact.  And they were AWESOME.  I remember jamming to an almost continuous soundtrack of 80s Heart in my childhood, and I thought that shit rocked then.  For one thing, they were one of the few really famous bands from the P-N-Dub.  In fact, they may have been the ONLY famous musicians apart from Jimi Hendrix when I was a little kid from the pre-grunge P-N-Dub (as much as I'd like to think the nation was jamming to Sir Mix-a-Lot's incomparable Swass CD, I get the distinct impression it was just us Northwesterners).  In any event, it was way better to brag that you came from the same region that produced those chicks who sang "Alone" and "All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You" (which, if you listen to the lyrics, is a twisted fucking song) than Robb Weller, self-proclaimed inventor of "The Wave" and host of the game show "Win, Lose, or Draw."  For another, those bitches from Heart had awesome style.

In all their 80s videos, they look like they're rocking out on a set that can best be described as part Anne Rice, part Harlequin romance novel cover, part ladies night at the now-defunct Galaxy Lounge, a Puyallup hotspot down on the banks of its eponymous river by the Fred Meyer and Tiffany's Skating Rink.  Nancy Wilson looks like she spent $39.99 on a spiral perm at Fantastic Sam's, and Ann Wilson looks like she picked her outfits at the Lane Bryant leather and lace clearance rack.  They both look like women in Puyallup do now when they're getting all gussied up for a wild night out at the Emerald Queen Casino.  In other words, they are a couple of hot-ass pieces of trash.  I can even suspend my dislike of fat people to admire the zaftig Ann Wilson, both for her excellence in wardrobe and styling choices, and for her ability to belt out an almost Mariah Carey-esque range of notes.  80s Heart was the hotness.  

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Tuesday, April 29, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: the Bellarmine Crab Feed


Name: the Bellarmine Boosters Annual Crab Feed

DOB: ???--my mother has had tickets since the 80s

Occupation: being totally awesome

Hometown: Names Gym, Bellarmine Prep, Tacoma, Washington

Current residence: same and in infamy

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness:  Four reasons:

1. All-you-can-eat Orange Gold from the Bering Sea (which, in turn, usually reminds me of the hotness that is Captain Sig Hansen of the mighty F/V Northwestern screaming about the crab count and generally turning me on like it's his job)
2. All-you-can-drink beer
3. Seeing my junior year honors American lit teacher who is a HOT PIECE
4. I almost always get laid afterward, and this year was no exception

The Crab Feed is an annual fundraiser for my high school's Booster Athletic Fund, and I am so smitten with it that I fly 3,000 miles every year just to attend.  The Feed is such a must-attend that literally you have to wait for people to die to get tickets.  Luckily, my mom has had a table for 18 secured since the 80s.  Therefore I am fortunate to reap the benefits of my family's connections.

In addition to the fact that I have a virtually limitless appetite for crab, beer, and the teacher who taught me to appreciate Hemingway, the Crab Feed is a veritable cornucopia of ass-getting for me.  As I've shamelessly bragged about mentioned, in years past I've banged former high school classmates and had threesomes after the Feed.  This year we actually left the event to bar-hop without picking up any obvious sex partners.  Fortunately, Morrissey'sHair and HotLawyer brought along one of their law school friends, and I racked up yet another lucky barrister on my list of conquests.  I'm sure the Jesuit priests who run my high school are very, very proud to have produced an "educated for life" graduate like myself.  As usual, the Crab Feed is awesome in every possible way.  I already can't wait until next spring. 

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Friday, April 25, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Sam from Samcast


Name: Sam Dunaiski

DOB: ???

Occupation: running the weather game like what on his new METEOROLOGY BLOG

Hometown: Duluth, Minnesota

Current residence: Washington Heights, New York, New York

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Okay, I don't, because Sam is married to a friend of mine and breaking up my friends' marriages is not how I roll. I may be a depraved slut but I'm not that despicable. However, I would like to get lots of HITS for that hotness. Though he currently puts food on the table slinging pants at Bloomingdale's, Sam is a trained weatherman. He has a bachelor of science or something in meteorology. No joke!

So to keep his weather-predicting skills fresh and sharp, he started a weather blog and is looking for some regular readers. He will give you customized forecasts by request! I wanted to know what I can expect the weather here in the beautiful P-N-Dub to be like during my visit here (particularly since my friends and family here tell me that it's been ranging from 80 degrees to snowing over the past week and a half, a smorgasboard of weather conditions that are pretty typical for spring in the northwest), and he was kind enough to oblige.
Seattle: It looks like Seattle should be nice this weekend. Saturday looks ok, although rain is a bit more likely on Sunday and Monday as some good ol' Pacific moisture rolls in. I know I know, I'm really going out on a limb forecasting rain in Seattle. Temps ok, highs in the 60s lows in the 40s. Let me know how I do!
Well, so far, the weather is not too shabby for spring in the P-N-Dub. As I mentioned above, we expect the unexpected, as anything from sweltering heat to hailstorms can occur during April around here. It's partly cloudy, but there's some sunshine peeking through, temperatures are in the 60s as predicted, and I can actually see Mt. Rainier from the end of my parents' street. It's not wearing a hat, which invariably means that rain is on the way, but if Sam's forecast is right, it should be by tomorrow. I'll let him know.


Anyway, you should go visit Sam's blog and ask him for a forecast of your very own. Sam is a funny guy and let's face it...who wouldn't want their own by-request meteorologist? He's like a DJ but instead of spinning your favorite club-bangers, he's rocking out your own personalized weather report! Hook a dude up with some blog patronage. GO! GO! GO!

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Thursday, April 24, 2008

 

Just a little patience

People who don't watch "Lost" are probably reading today's Daily Dude/Douchebag posts and thinking, "Ugh, move on to topics I care about."  Unfortunately, today I don't have much time for useless bullshit because I have about ten million things to do.  The usual Razzy-type errands: re-up birth control pill prescription, bust out some virology real quick, pack six days worth of diverse clothes suitable for the wide range of weather conditions I might encounter during spring in the great Pacific Northwest, deal with dogsitting issues, etc.  Unlike my usual routine, I can't just put things off for another day because my deadline is 4:45 p.m. for finishing everything up.  Actually, my deadline is about 2 p.m., which is when I have to hop the A train in order to get to JFK in time for my 4:45 p.m. flight to Sea-Tac.  That's right, I'm headed back to the P-N-Dub today because it's CRAB FEED SEASON!!!

Longtime Razzyphiles may recall the tales of Crab Feeds past.  Last year following the crab feed, I had a threesome.  The year before that, I nightcapped the Crab Feed by fucking the former quarterback of my high school football team on my girl MillerTime's living room couch.  Who knows what kind of adventures this year's feed will hold?  An all-you-can-consume orgy of crab legs and beer held in the gym at my high school alma mater is rife with potential for post-feed debauchery.  No, seriously, it is!  Plus, I'll be there for almost a week and that's plenty of time to bang childhood friends, consume Vitamin R in copious quantities, and generally raise hell.  So please be patient if I'm not as on top of moderating comments or crafting useless bullshit as prolifically as normal.  I'll be back to form in a day or two, hopefully with some quality stories to share.  

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Saturday, March 29, 2008

 

Hawking a loogie

Last Saturday, some dude in the not-particularly-storied burgh of Port Orchard, Washington decided to take his daughters out for a burger at a local fast-food joint.  He dressed for the occasion by glamming himself up in his finest Pittsburgh Steelers regalia.

Wearing anything related to the (sonofabitchbastard) Shitsburgh Stealers is not an advisable move in the middle of redneck Seahawks country.  It's even less advisable to begin making asshole quips about how the Stealers co-conspired with Bill Leavy's officiating crew to rob the Seattle Seahawks of the Lombardi trophy in Super Bowl XL.  This asshole learned this the hard way, and in this case "the hard way" means via saliva comprising the special sauce atop his burger,  according to this riveting report from the Kitsap Sun:
A 24-year-old South Kitsap man — and self-proclaimed Seattle Seahawks fan — was arrested Sunday for allegedly spitting on the hamburger he prepared for a man wearing Pittsburgh Steelers attire, according to Kitsap County Sheriff's Office reports.

Deputies said the 37-year-old man in Steelers garb took his daughters to a Mile Hill Drive fast food restaurant Saturday evening, and "began trading friendly barbs about his team and their victory over the Seattle Seahawks in Super Bowl XL," reports said.

One employee told the man that he'd "better not say that to the guy that's making your food," but the man thought it was a joke, reports said.

That is, until he opened his "clamshell-style" hamburger container and discovered what he called a "loogie" on his hamburger.
Ah, bless the other Seahawks fans in the P-N-Dub. I'm clearly not the only one clinging to feelings of overwhelming bitterness and resentment with regard to the travesty that occurred February 6, 2006.  There are even some fellow Hawks faithful out there who are willing to literally spit on the indignity of having an obnoxious Steeler fan rub it in.

This story gets even better.  Apparently spitting in someone's food is considered assault, so the chef showing his disdain for the douchebag assclowns of Heinz Field via loogie was visited by some sheriff's deputies the next day.  Like every other foodservice employee from the P-N-Dub I've ever met, this heroic 12th man likes to take the edge off his lingering grief over the Seahawks' postseason misfortunes by indulging in some cannabis.  When the deputies showed up, mild hilarity ensued:
A deputy was informed by the manager that the person responsible may be a 24-year-old South Kitsap man who was near his quitting time when the incident occurred. He also failed to show up for work the next day, the manager said.

The deputy went to the 24-year-old's house, and when he knocked on the door, a voice from inside yelled that he "wasn't buying any ... girl scout cookies," the deputy said.

The deputy told him, "I won't sell you any," and when the man opened the door, the deputy "was immediately confronted with the strong odor of burnt marijuana."

Eventually, the man brought the deputy a bag of marijuana and he was arrested. The man also confessed to spitting in the 37-year-old's hamburger container to "gross him out ... because he was a Steelers fan," deputies said.
Hatred of the Stealers, willingness to endure a night in jail in defense of the Hawks' honor, and a fondness for smokin' the ganj...it doesn't get more P-N-Dubby than that.  This unnamed and now probably unemployed line cook is a true local hero.  They should let him raise the 12th man flag at Qwest Field on opening day for his devotion and loyalty, send him on a date to Ivar's or Sea Galley or somewhere similarly classy with the Sea Gal of his choice, give him AT LEAST a complimentary pair of Deion Branch neon green receiver gloves, and let him pet Taima the osprey who flies out of the tunnel ahead of the team during home games.  He is the pride of the Pacific Northwest.

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Thursday, March 20, 2008

 

My future boyfriends

Last year, Floyd Sr., patriarch of a clan of petty criminals and (per my objective judgment) methamphetamine manufacturers/distributors/addicts, was arrested for crimes against humanity in central Florida.  I'm not sure what those crimes were, but I'm willing to bet it involved either possession/sale of drugs, assault in the context of a bar brawl, public intoxication, or domestic battery.  Some other time, Justin, one of his eight sons was arrested for a separate but undoubtedly similar offense.  These fine fellows were thus given a free pictures for their touching family photo album at the state's expense:
Ah, forehead tattoos.  What a treasured tradition those Bebees have cultivated within their family.  They're like a clan of redneck Maori.  According to The Smoking Gun, Floyd, Sr. also has the words "Got-R-Did" on the back of his head to bookend the old thinking muscle with some class.  Apparently to one-up his old man, Justin also has the words "Fuck" and "You" tatted on his eyelids, the aggressive white trash tweaker version of that Smith College girl who writes "Love" and "You" on her eyelids to flash at choice moments (such as when he's trying to spell "neolithic") during Professor Henry "Indiana" Jones's archaeology class in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

The Bebee gentlemen (who apparently work in the "odd jobs" industry) are truly refined gentlemen, and I wish they would move to Puyallup.  Not only could I recommend an excellent local criminal defense attorney to them (obviously as necessary to the Bebees as my parents' financial planner is to them), they would have no problem getting employment as either nomadic handymen or tweak dealers, and would undoubtedly rapidly rise to the upper echelons of Puyallup trailer park society.  They'd be the toast of Neener's, Nifty's Fifties, Bumpy's, the Roadhouse, Muggs and Juggs, the VFW club, or any of the other local social clubs.  Pity they're stuck in Florida, because Puyallup could really benefit from a couple of sophisticated gentlemen like these two.

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Monday, February 18, 2008

 

"I Do" the Puyallup

Last night, LL Cool Jew texted me:
the episode of my redneck wedng right now s set n washington state. groom wearing seahawks ballcap n mossy oak vest
WHAT? "My Redneck Wedding?" What is this show, why are there hicks on it who are probably my relatives, and why haven't I ever heard of it before? This sounds to me like a must-see! I inquired back to LL Cool Jew what channel this show was on. She replied:
cmt dude. zomg have u not gotten into my big redneck wedding hostd by tom arnold? i wd b so excitd 2 introduce you 2 it!
So it turns out this show is on CMT. That would explain why I haven't seen it. While I do like the hot pieces named Toby Keith singing about trucks and freedom and Brad Paisley singing about checking ladies for ticks, I don't spend a large portion of my time masturbating to their videos like certain Taylor Swift fans I know. I certainly don't spend any of my time checking out what kind of original programming CMT is offering. However, that's about to change. Since I didn't want to wait until the next time I visit LL Cool Jew in New Orleans, I went to the internets to find out more. I found a synopsis of the episode LL Cool Jew was talking about on the "My Big Redneck Wedding" website.
In Puyallup, Wash., Tami and Brad are getting hitched the northwest redneck style, with rain, mud, guns, quads and plenty of beer guzzling fun. The only problem is, Brad's mom doesn't like it one bit. She's a wedding planner and was hoping her son would get married the old-fashion way - in a church with flowers, dresses and class. With mom changing the couple's plans and Brad procrastinating with getting the wedding site ready, this tomboy bride is getting nervous.
God, I can't BELIEVE I'm not related to these people. Now that I think of it, I might have a distant cousin named Tami. They're even getting married on someone's undeveloped property in MY HOMETOWN. Indeed, there is no place more romantic than some dude's Puyallup muddin' grounds to park your trailers (which I'm sure were decorated up real faincy-like for the occasion...with paper lantern string lights from Wal-Mart and everthing), your shotgun collection, and your portable meth lab to honor such an historic occasion. What could be more romantic than a fleet of recreational vehicles, a glorious display of one's right to bear arms, gray skies, and red plastic cups overflowing with Rainier Beer, the sweet nectar of the P-N-Dub? I can see how Brad's wedding planner mom apparently failed to persuade the happy couple to have the wedding "in a church with flowers, dresses, and class," as nothing outromances a traditional wedding like a keg party in a muddy yard on under Puyallup's sultry overcast skies. Besides, she never had a chance. This couple knows what they want when it comes to making major relationship moves. They waited all of three days after they met (at a bar in Auburn, which probably translates to "over a video poker machine at the Muckleshoot Casino") before shacking up. Their passion ignited over a mutual love for four-wheeled all-terrain vehicles and Brad's interests is intense, and their dream of a special day will not be mitigated by the selfish demands made by an interfering future mother-in-law. Nobody is going to stop Brad and Tami from commemorating their blessed matrimony with a thrilling game of wedd'n day lawn bowling.

Tami and Brad
Tami is from Auburn, Wash.
Brad is from Auburn, Wash., but if you ask him, he will tell you Minot, N.D.

We met thru a mutual friend at a bar in Auburn, Wash. We met on a Friday, went out again that Saturday and he moved in the next Tuesday!!! A whirlwind!!! But so totally worth it.

For fun, we like to be outdoors. Brad plays bocce (Italian lawn bowling), hunting, quads, snowmobiles ... anything outside. Tami is about quads and watching Brad do his thing ... and fishing.

We did the redneck wedding because that's Brad. It was so perfect for us to have the camo, Carhartts, quads and mud! It fits who we are, or I guess more of who Brad is!

The main feature that we wanted in our wedding was family and shotguns. Basically our whole wedding was family. Brad's uncle even got ordained so that he could marry us!!! And the shotguns were a big deal to Brad. He and his brother are very into hunting so guns are a big part of his life. He wanted to incorporate that aspect in the wedding.

For the future, we are planning to get pregnant, hopefully soon. We are getting settled into our new house, and Brad bought me a new SUV to go with our new house. He really does take good care of me and my son Logan.
My cousin got married in a very similar situation, in his front yard. Well, actually, it was my aunt and uncle's front yard, but my cousin lived there with his new bride in a trailer parked off'n the side yard. There were fewer guns (although some firearms did make an appearance), an equivalent number of four-wheelers, and more earth-moving equipment. No joke. They exchanged vows adjacent to a parked and tarp-shrouded Bobcat. At least they tried to class it up a little by wearing traditional wedding outfits, right down to the bridesmaids' dyeable Payless satin pumps. Sadly, those pumps were stained by the perpetually sodden earth pervasive in my aunt and uncle's slowly sinking yard. The reception fare consisted primarily of finger-foods found in the Costco freezer section. I probably consumed half my body weight in taquitos and meatballs reheated in a crock pot with Yoshida's sauce that day. I also recall washing it down with a few ice-cold cans of Rainier, which is far more a far more appropriate golden carbonated spirit to raise than champagne to raise in celebration of Spanaway's most recent newlyweds. Vitamin R was also useful in ameliorating my anxieties about a sinkhole forming in the yard around my aunt and uncle's woefully maintained septic tank at any time during the festivities.

Needless to say, these functions are a joy to behold, and clearly I need to watch more CMT. Besides, it's putting Puyallupian culture on the map, and I'm all for that. The P-N-Dub hick is a special breed of redneck that is generally underrepresented in the media, and I applaud CMT for dishing out a hot slice of Puyallup to satiate the nation's appetite for the sexy, rain-soaked PWT so common in my hometown.

I'm already hooked on this show, and I haven't even seen it.

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Tuesday, February 05, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Cole Cosgrove


Name: Cole Cosgrove

DOB: ???

Occupation: blogger, copy editor of the south Sound's finest paper, the Tacoma News Tribune

Hometown: ???

Current residence: Tacoma, Washington--City of Destiny

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Today I was catching up on my reading concerning what goes on in the beautiful P-N-Dub over at the TNT (that would be the Tacoma News Tribune) website. As usual, not a whole lot is going on. The Pierce County auditor (whose son--on an amusing aside--was best friends with this guy I was boning back in Tacompton and asked if they could run a train on me once...I said no, because he was fat) is leading a campaign for stiffer fines against owning vicious animals in response to several pitbull attacks in Spanaway, and the new Sumner street-sweeping machine led the funeral procession for a recently deceased street sweeper's funeral. I'm sure if I did some digging I could find some news about meth, but otherwise there's not a whole lot going on back in the area where I came up. So I was clicking around tribnet.com and found some blog called "Grit City: You'll Like Tacoma."

I decided to check it out because I already know that I like Tacoma, having gone to school there and lived there for many years, and "Grit City" is certainly an apt description of it. It's a lot more fitting than "America's Most Wired City", which was what Tacoma called itself a few years back because we had more internet wiring than anywhere else or something. Anyway, I was initially annoyed by the "Grit City" blog because I watched the dumb Super Bowl rap video that some tool with nothing better to do made (and which is NOT the "hottest thing outta Tacoma since Chihuly's glass left the furnace"...that would be me.) People making up stupid raps about football--especially while wearing a seriously outdated Darryl Jackson Seahawks road jersey--are not my cup of scotch. But I scrolled on through the blog to the next posting.

Apparently, some dude in Yakima restored a vintage sign touting Yakima as "the Palm Springs of Washington."

I guess Yakima, which is in eastern Washington, is arid and depends on irrigation for any type of plant growth, but that's where the similarities end. I've never been to Palm Springs, but I know the gang from "Beverly Hills, 90210" went there a few times and got up to all sorts of trouble. Jim and Cindy Walsh were propositioned by a frightening couple into swinging to play "bucking bronco" in the resort hot tub, Donna Martin was pushed down a flight of stairs by her abusive failed rock star boyfriend Ray Pruit, Brandon Walsh got busted for possession when he accidentally handed a cop Valerie Malone's joint instead of her car registration, and Steve Sanders was tricked into hooking up with a pre-op M2F tranny. Good times. I imagine nothing of that sort happens in Yakima. Probably a lot of people drive drunk back across the mountains to the civilized western part of the state after wine tasting at the Snoqualmie Vineyards, and I'm sure there's some meth labs, but that's about it for Yakima.

Anyway, the author Cole Cosgrove then wondered what Tacoma would compare itself to if it had a similar sign. He came up with the best analogy ever:

It's SO true! Tacoma really is the Oakland of Washington. Granted, we've never produced anything as awesome as Todd "Too $hort" Shaw, but in every other way, we're like Oakland's mangy twin. Tacoma is the coarser, crasser, working-class city that gets sneered at by the snotty, more cosmopolitan, slightly bigger city about 30 miles away. While Seattle and San Francisco are praised for their beauty and culture, Tacoma and Oakland get saddled with an industrial waterfront, gangs and higher crime rates, and the mockery of their neighbors. Tacoma has a reputation for the stench emitted from our paper mill that is known as "the aroma of Tacoma." My grandfather--who always listened to either Rush Limbaugh or Lawrence Welk big band-type crap--once demanded that I never listen to Bruce Springsteen because he complained to the local media about this distinctive scent (which is BARELY noticeable.) Tacoma gets all the shit that them faincy high-falutin' city folk won't put up with, just like Oakland, and all we get as a reward is a shout-out in one of the Steve Miller Band's lesser hits. However, just like the people of Oakland, we have pride in our crude, stank city, and though we may complain that we hate it, true Tacomans will have a love for T-town in their hearts until they go to their graves.

I have to give Cole Cosgrove props for pointing this out. Plus, if his thumbnail picture on the blog is any indication, he's kind of a hot piece, by Tacoma standards anyway. Unfortunately, his biography says he's married. Too bad, because with his cheerful good looks and razor-sharp insight, he'd have bitches at the West End or Hank's Tavern swooning and begging him to buy them a round or two of Rainiers. And you know he drinks Vitamin R like any upstanding "gritizen" because elsewhere on the Grit City blog I found this picture of him in his finest T-town regalia:

Punk-flavored zip-up hoodie? Check. Unshorn facial hair? Check. Rainier beer trucker hat. Check! That right there is a hot Tacoma native, so it's no wonder some lucky lady snagged him off a barstool at some Sixth Ave watering hole. Oh well. I guess his finding a wife before I found his blog is just another example of my Tacomatism (bad luck), which remains strong even though I no longer reside in the great City of Destiny. So goes life.

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Monday, January 28, 2008

 

Mary Kay started it

I was just reading the day's headlines on CNN and found an article that suggested that some states were going to crack down on the seemingly recent epidemic of teachers boning their teenaged students. I read it and got annoyed, and not only because Missouri state representative Jane Cunningham thinks she's Theodore Roosevelt:
States get tough on classroom sexual misconduct

(AP) Heeding a steady drumbeat of sexual misconduct cases involving teachers, at least 15 states are now considering stronger oversight and tougher punishment for educators who take advantage of their students.

Lawmakers say they are concerned about an increasingly well-documented phenomenon: While the vast majority of America's teachers are committed professionals, there also is a persistent problem with sexual misconduct in U.S. schools.

When abuse happens, administrators too often fail to let others know about it, and too many legal loopholes let offenders stay in the classroom.

Advocates include governors, education superintendents and legislative leaders.

"We've got to be on a bully pulpit with our school districts," said Missouri state Rep. Jane Cunningham.

Cunningham's legislation would eliminate statutes of limitation for sexual misconduct, allowing victims to come forward and bring charges against abusers no matter how many years had passed since the crime.

The ideas emerging in state capitals come at a time when U.S. media have been reporting steadily on individual cases, along with more in-depth examinations of the problem.

A nationwide Associated Press investigation published in October found 2,570 educators whose teaching credentials were revoked, denied, surrendered or sanctioned from 2001 through 2005 following allegations of sexual misconduct. Experts who track sexual abuse say those cases are representative of a much deeper problem because of underreporting.

In eight states, leaders pushing changes said the AP investigation had inspired their proposals. Others said they had grown concerned from individual cases of abuse in their states, or other news reports that looked at the problem locally or in their state.

In New York, Gov. Eliot Spitzer supports automatic suspension of teachers convicted of sex crimes, which now requires lengthy hearings. In Maine, Gov. John Baldacci hopes to share the names of abusive teachers with other states, which a 1913 confidentiality law there prohibits.

In Florida, Gov. Charlie Crist endorsed federal legislation proposed by U.S. Rep. Adam Putnam, a Florida Republican, to create a national databank of abusive teachers, a hot line for complaints and federal funds for state investigators.

Some states are looking to increase penalties, expand background checks or broaden their ability to police charter schools for abuse, like Indiana, Massachusetts and Utah. Kentucky and South Carolina are considering making it illegal for teachers to have sex with older students.

Several states are tackling a major problem -- the loopholes that allow problem teachers to move from one school district to another, or from one state to another.

The AP investigation found that what education officials commonly call "passing the trash" happens when districts allow a teacher to quietly leave a school, or fail to report problems to state authorities, or fail to check with state authorities before hiring a teacher, among other glitches.

In eight states, legislators are pursuing changes to close those gaps, including California, Colorado, Florida, Minnesota, Missouri, Virginia, Washington state and West Virginia.

"Despite acts of misconduct that were threatening and dangerous in schools, there is a track record of people going on to another school district and finding employment," said Missouri state Senate President Pro Tem Michael Gibbons. "The new school district may get the truth, but they don't get the whole truth about this person's background.

They may find out the dates of service, they may find out this person was dismissed, but there really is no other information forthcoming."

His legislation aims to get school employees and districts to share all information about job-hunting teachers, including whether those educators sexually abused their students, by granting administrators civil immunity from lawsuits.

Other states approach the same problem differently. A Colorado measure being drafted would penalize school districts and state officials that fail to report problem teachers, while a West Virginia proposal would open school officials themselves to punishment. Florida would bar any confidentiality agreement between districts and teachers, and require districts to report every firing to the state.

In California, one proposal would close a loophole that bars the teacher credentialing commission from revealing the reason teachers lose their licenses if they plead no contest to an offense.

Under no contest pleas, defendants are punished as if they pleaded guilty, but retain the right to challenge the charges against them in lawsuits and other proceedings. Such deals have meant public records were unclear about why educator licenses were sanctioned in dozens of cases, the AP found.

"You should not be able to plead no contest to a sex offense just so you can continue teaching," said state Sen. Bob Margett. The measure means teachers who plead no contest would immediately lose their license, and the reason for the revocation would be public record.

Some say the latest legislation is just the beginning.

South Carolina has created a new committee of parents, teachers, social workers and prosecutors to study the problem and come back with new ideas.

Though small statistically, the number of abusive teachers is too high, South Carolina Education Superintendent Jim Rex wrote after reading the AP report.

"I am nonetheless outraged by any incident in which an adult entrusted with the care of one of South Carolina's students violates that student. The ramifications for that student, his or her family, and the community as a whole are painful and long lasting," he wrote.

In Utah, the numbers of abuses flat-out shocked state Rep. Carl Wimmer. "These things happen a lot more often than parents would think," he said. "It seems we do have an unacceptable high amount of children who get violated in the classroom. One is too many."
Excuse me, "Associated Press" or whatever your name is who wrote this article, but why did you only give Washington state a passing mention? There's nary a single sound bite from someone in the Dub-A about how we're cracking down on teacher molestation, and that's truly an inexcusable journalistic oversight. We started this trend! Remember these two lovebirds?

All these other hater teachers from other states are biting Mary Kay LeTourneau and her beloved Vili Fualaau's style, and it's just not right that this groundbreaking AP investigation didn't go straight to the source and ask Governor Gregoire--or at least some no-name state legislators--what the fuck can be done about it. Washington state was the first to place a student-porking elementary school teacher in the national media spotlight, so it seems only fair that we should get interviewed first. Instead, my former state of residence gets all but ignored in favor of Governor Eliot Spitzer from my current state of residence, saying some bullshit about how teachers who bang their students will get suspended. Let me congratulate New York on its progressive reforms in the area of student-fucking consequences with a resounding DUH! That's not how you handle these situations. In Washington, we hang 'em high! Or at least make them do a few years of hard time at the Purdy Women's Correctional Facility down the highway from my parents' beach house. The point is, Washington figured out how to handle this after Mary Kay and Vili hit the news: fuck this bureaucratic credential-rules-changing bullshit and prosecute the teacher for statutory rape. Then it hits the national news, and the teacher never works again.

Even if Washington and the P-N-Dub's heroic, simple, and totally effective efforts to curb teacher-student sex did get the shaft in this investigation, at least maybe all this media attention on children effing their trusted educators will result in something undeniably positive: an excuse to show reruns of "All-American Girl: The Mary Kay LeTourneau Story" on Lifetime, starring Penelope Ann Miller as MKLT. That was the best Lifetime movie ever. If anything, it shed some light as to why MKLT forsook her husband and four children to bone the overgelled and pubestachioed tween Vili Fualaau. Her husband was a dick, and she had daddy issues, and she wasn't getting any, and that Vili Fualaau was a smooth talker. He may have only been thirteen, but in the movie he was spitting some game straight out of a Billy Dee Williams Colt 45 commercial. God, I probably would have even fucked Vili Fualaau, and I hate kids! I hate kids so much I want to drop-kick them when I see them, but Vili Fualaau had something going on. He was such a pick-up artist that he could teach Robert Sylvester Kelly a thing or two about being a flirt. If Vili Fualaau in real life is anything like the stunningly accomplished actor who played him in the Lifetime movie, I can hardly blame MKLT for succumbing to his seductive wiles. Plus, he looked like he was hot in the sack. Like I said, best. Lifetime. Movie! EVER!

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