Monday, June 22, 2009
Happy 21st birthday to HotLawyer and Morrissey'sHair
An unofficial holiday here at RAZZY.org is the birthday of my friends HotLawyer and Morrissey'sHair. Apart from being acquainted for almost twenty years and being good friends and generally great guys, they were among the pioneering Razzyphiles. They have been avid consumers of useless bullshit since I put a damn Friendster bulletin up about trying out this website thing, which should tell you how long they've been tapping this awesomeness. I was glad that this year, on account of my moving back to the P-N-Dub, I was able to celebrate their special day in person.
In the past, I've always put up a picture of Morrissey since they are both big fans. Once Morrissey'sHair bailed on hanging out with me when I was visiting from New York because Morrissey was in town and he wanted to get up early and prowl places he thought Morrissey might go. However, this year, I feel that in all fairness to HotLawyer's changing tastes, I ought to put up a picture of William Leonard "Rick Ross" Roberts II to truly wish him a "bawse" birthday. Since Morrissey and the biggest boss I've seen thus far are incongruous to say the least, I am putting up a picture of Chingy! celebrating in his own way.
Yesterday morning I woke up and staggered blearily out of HotLawyer's suite at the W. My eye makeup was smeared, I was wearing a sparkly halter top with no bra and my nipples were definitely taking notice of the chilly morning, and I wasn't sure exactly where in downtown Seattle I was. I looked particularly classy doing my ho stroll walk of shame past all the wholesome people having Sunday breakfast and dressed in their church-type finery. As soon as I managed to hail a cab and get back home, I kicked off my shoes and went to change into something more pajama-like prior to walking the dogs. Chingy! took the opportunity to turn my uncomfortable, cheap, internet skank shoes into a pillow–or, more accurately, a jowl rest, which I'm pretty sure is his way of saying "CHONGAY CHONG, HotLawyer and Morrissey'sHair!"
Anyway, although their birthday was actually yesterday, I wanted to once again acknowledge their unwavering Razzyphilia, commend them on their taste and sophistication, and thank them for their contributions in terms of enthusiasm and pro bono legal services. I heart you guys! BAWSE.
Labels: aging, HotLawyer, Morrissey'sHair, Razzyphiles
Monday, January 12, 2009
It's called the "Great" Northwest for a reason
I know I've been seriously AWOL lately, and for that I apologize to all the Razzyphiles who have been rending their garments, self-flagellating, weeping, gnashing their teeth, and generally experiencing crushing despair due to useless bullshit withdrawal. I spent the holidays frantically dispatching mice in my lab and arranging postdoc interviews for later this week. I'm also trying to make a serious dent in my dissertation and write two papers. In short, I'm working my tits off (thankfully, not literally), and I have barely had time to eat or sleep. Hell, I've barely had time to get my daily rub-off in, and that's just unacceptable.
As of today, I'm in the beautiful (and by "beautiful" I mean "gray and overcast") P-N-Dub, sitting at my parents' kitchen counter working diligently away on still more science-type stuff. However, I did break away long enough to go out and get my drink on in Tacompton with HotLawyer and Morrissey'sHair this past weekend. While I was at Doyle's, a standard Tacoma watering hole, I was informed by the barkeep and Razzyphile extraordinaire Startender that my site has gone neglected for so long that I'm second-to-last on his internet surfing history. Nonetheless, Startender still hooked me up with some complimentary scotch for being the source of all things Razzified, but I drank it with a sense of shame. Despite my legitimate excuses for doing so, I've been appallingly remiss at blessing you with my prosaic hotness. I plan to do a little making up for that now, if only so that Startender doesn't regret his generous gift of Johnnie Walker.
Unfortunately, I haven't been up to speed on my internets gossip on account of spending 90% of my online time on PubMed. So instead of railing on whatever current event has pissed me off and/or excited me I will instead try to answer a question that a number of people have been asking me lately: Why am I moving back to the P-N-Dub?
Oh, did I mention? I'm probably moving back to the P-N-Dub this spring after I get Ph.ake doctored. I love New York like crazy, but I'm so tired of being broke all the time and living in what could pass for a Gangs of New York-style tenement. Seriously, if I live there any longer, I'm going to have to sharpen my teeth and become proficient in hand-to-hand combat with meat cleavers and various farm tools. I'm also tired of struggling to find dogsitters and being so far away from my family. So like all great affairs, mine with living in New York City is coming to an end in favor of stupid, dumb Seattle. Also, there are some hot-ass virologists up at the University of Washington who I can get a sweet postdoc with.
Now, I realize that Seattle is a lame fucking city that annoys me to no end. Seattle people, whether they fall into the category of Overblown Yuppie, Scruffy Hipster, or Environmental Nazi, are all ultimately the same in the sense that most of them are from backwater towns like Eatonville and Mukilteo and Chehalis and compensate for such humble upbringings by being insufferably condescending to everyone crossing their paths. I do not like most of them and they usually do not like me. Tacoma, while I love it for its more unassuming, blue collar atmosphere, is too far away from Seattle to live. I did that commute for three years and vowed that I would never again live so far away from my place of employment. After-work happy hour is a critical part of my professional life, and long driving commutes are not conducive to early evening drunkenness. However, there are many bonuses to living in the P-N-Dub in spite of Seattle's wholesale suckery. In spite of my tendency to be a ruthless, brutal hater, I actually am a very optimistic, glass-half-full kind of person, and I've compiled a list of things that are going to be AWESOME about living here.
1. Close proximity to my parents and little brother. This pretty much speaks for itself. I'm very close to my family, so being able to come over, raid the fridge, do laundry, and get free dogsitting services is hella awesome. Notice I said "hella." I'm getting back into West Coast mode!
2. Taco Time.
For those who have never been to the P-N-Dub, you've probably never heard of Taco Time, and that is your grave misfortune. It is the best fucking fake-me-out Mexican fast food you will ever eat. The crisp beef burrito is like a sublime tube of deep-fried meat and their Mexi-Fries (aka deep fried tater tots with taco seasoning on them) are mind blowing. Taco Time is the only fast food I will deign to consume. When I'm in New York, I have had dreams about eating Taco Time.
3. I always get laid like crazy in the P-N-Dub. I certainly get plenty of action in New York, too, but never like it is here. I don't know what it is about the honeys here, but they LOVE my ass. They're practically lining up to knock this thang out. I'm barely in town for one day and I've got my hand down some random 24-year-old's pants. Then the next night I got some totally different ass! I'm a true playerette for real wherever I'm at, but my inherent game is at its apex here in the Dub-A.
4. It's cheaper than New York. With the exception of some ridiculously priced Lagavulin scotch I drank the other night while I was hanging out at my buddy TAFKAMA's neighborhood bar in Seattle, booze, food, rent, gas, and life in general is less expensive. In New York, I not only have to pay a state income tax and a state sales tax, I also have to pay CITY income and sales taxes. In Washington, there isn't even a state income tax and top shelf scotch in Puyallup is $5.
5. Pretty scenery.
6. Rainier Beer
Otherwise known as "Vitamin R," Rainier is the next best thing to the nectar of the gods. Truly there is no finer lager in the entire world than Rainier. Okay, well, that might not be true because Rainier is pretty shitty. However, as far as shitty beers go, Rainier sets a standard of excellence that all other canned beverages can only dream of achieving. Thus far I've already consumed at least 3 Vitamin R tallboys, and I've still got a week of this working vacation to go.
7. Seahawks fans abound
While the Seahawks may have had one of their worst seasons since the mid-90s this past year, I never stopped wearing my jerseys. Even when we were 2-10 I gritted my teeth and headed for the bar bravely rocking my Tatupu jersey in spite of the derisive statements some of my fellow bar patrons made concerning the Hawks' performance this season. The nicer people (ie: my friends and/or dudes who want to bone me) attributed it to the rash of injuries suffered by the Seahawks. The assholes (ie: Cowboys, Eagles, Giants, Patriots, Jets, and/or Bears fans) attributed it to the phenomenon known around the P-N-Dub as "S.O.S.", or Same Old Seahawks, the local term for the Hawks' reversion to the old days when they sucked harder than a toothless hooker. Moving back to the P-N-Dub means I don't have to put up with any of this bullshit. Instead, I can simply wallow in everyone else's collective depression. It also means I don't have to explain what the fuck "SEA-fence" means.
8. Lots of people for me to mock.
The other night, my friend TAFKAMA took me to a hipster bar on karaoke night. When we walked in, I was like, "TAFKAMA, this place sucks! I feel like I'm in goddamned Williamsburg, what with all these losers in their trucker hats singing bad Blondie covers. Do you come here because you actually hang out with these people? I want to go back to the classy bar with the expensive scotch."
"I never come here with anyone," he confessed. "It's not like I come here because I want to be part of this scene. I only come here to watch and make fun of these people. I know you'd be into that. And there's $1.25 cans of Oly."
While I'll always take a Vitamin R over an Oly, I did admit that I couldn't beat that deal and indeed I was into it. TAFKAMA is a lot of fun to rag on people with because he's extremely perceptive and chances are, he's already got a lot of material that he's just been waiting to try out. For example, I was wondering why these hipsters were so void of boxy glasses, an accessory that I assumed was as much a part of the uniform as a messenger bag or a copy of something by Camus for the pretense of intellect. TAFKAMA advised me, "Bushy Grizzly Adams beards are the new boxy glasses." He was right. Every last one of these assholes had a faceful of unkempt pubes to wear with their plaid button-up/vintage t-shirt combos. TAFKAMA and I proceeded to spend the next two hours tearing apart every asshole in the place, from the guy wearing some sort of Church of Satan shirt to the fat girl wearing what can only be described as pantaloons with a hideous sweater dress that made her look like a giant black-and-green bratwurst.
I could go to hipster karaoke every night if those are the kind of outfits I'm going to see. And in addition to the Hipster Douchebags are the Overblown Yuppies, who spend all their time talking about garlic presses and wines and trying to sound incredibly cosmopolitan and sophisticated in spite of the fact that they live in tiny-ass Seattle, and the Environmental Nazis, who bike everywhere, eat vegan, and constantly whine about being green. In otherwords, the material is limitless.
9. Second to last but not remotely least, all my old school friends. These people have known me since before I hit puberty in some cases, and they always ask when I'm going to move back. Well, the answer to that is probably "April 2009."
10. Finally, to all my devoted Razzyphiles, I am sorry for being so incommunicado. If I move to the P-N-Dub, I will be spending considerably less time freaking out over things like money and grad school and that sort of bullshit. That means I'll have more time for blogging. And since there's only nine good things I could think of about the P-N-Dub, there's a multitude of others that enrage me and will provide solid grist for the Razzy mill for a long time to come. Please be patient with me the next few months as I finish up at school and get a job. I'll check in at least once a week, and I'll be back for good before you know it.
XOBJBS,
Razzy
Labels: alcoholism, excuses, P-N-Dub, Razzification, Razzyphiles, Seahawks
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
This is your porn star on drugs
Awhile back, I posted about some videos that porn producer and notorious asshole Donny Long uploaded to YouTube starring the once-great and now extremely cracked out porn star Chasey Lain. Sadly, I have been up to my tits in bullshit lab work, and haven't had the time to follow up on what Chasey has been doing since she threatened to have her mafioso boyfriend kill Donny Long for not letting her bang the male talent with a tampon in (and EW, gross). Chasey drove off in her Rolls Royce, crack pipe ablaze, and I thought that might be the last of her. I was saddened, because what a tragic end to such a luminous career in sucking dick on camera for cash.
Thank goodness my Razzyphiles are picking up my slack. Today I received an e-mail with the subject line "Chasey Lain–from bad to worse!" from PackMan, a Razzyphile who has been diligently following this story in my stead (which, I should add, I really appreciate because nobody is more depressed about my lack of bloggery lately than myself, and I need all the help I can get). Attached were two photographs proving that even when you think someone has hit bottom, there's always a little further that they can fall. It also proves that I can scream "WHY, CHASEY, WHY?!" a little louder than I did when I saw her trying to negotiate the going rate for hardcore stills in fluent tweaker gibberish.
This right here is exactly why you shouldn't do drugs, especially those generally bought and sold in crystalline form. Chasey looks like what would result if one of the "Faces of Meth" procreated with something from a George A. Romero movie. She looks like she's more interested in eating brain than giving it, and trust that's not something I want to rub one off to. Chasey looked pretty beat before, but now she looks like the human equivalent of the residue that accumulates on the bottom of a crack pipe. I imagine she smells like a combination of anhydrous ammonia and a Porta-Potty on the last day of Burning Man that has been filled with an endless stream of unbathed, tripping-balls drunken hippies while sweltering in the hot desert sun for three days. Sister needs to be on "Intervention" AND "Extreme Makeover," not cavorting around industry functions with male talent that seemingly can't wait to escape her necrotic clutches before some of her coochie cooties get on his Pacers jersey.
Even more disturbing than Chasey's cadaveric appearance is the fact that she's apparently executing some kind of twisted revenge scheme posing here with Donny Long's personal archnemesis, ChristianXXX. ChristianXXX did a few gay titles in the past, and this has led to a vicious feud in which Donny Long has accused him of being a "tranny fucker" and discouraged other women from working for him due to "safety concerns" (because only gay dudes have STDs, right, Donny, you homophobe?). ChristianXXX has responded by attempting to fight him in a parking lot (Donny Long ran away) and authoring the world's most soporific porn blog about his workout routine and what he likes to order at Chili's. I've never had any problem with ChristianXXX myself because I don't really pay much attention to the male talent in porn unless the dude is gross (in which case I have to actively try to not look at him), and ChristianXXX seems generally well-groomed and unintrusive. However, he may have just jumped into gross-out territory with this ill-advised unholy anti-Donny Long alliance, if the above photos suggest that he did a scene with the decrepit remnants of what was once one of the hottest pieces of ass in the entire adult world. That's really too bad, because the other day I saw a clip of Christian banging Eva Angelina and it was pretty hot. Now I can't even watch it again, because the second his bald, Mr. Clean-looking ass shows up I'm going to conjure up images of Chasey's ghoulish visage. I don't even think the hotness that is Eva Angelina will be able to quell my compulsive and violent urge to vomit all over my computer screen, and that's saying a lot, because she's pretty hot.
And speaking of compulsive, violent urges, I have to stop now due to uncontrollable shuddering.
Labels: correspondence, drugs, gross, oh the horror, porn, Razzyphiles, sluts, tragedy
Monday, November 17, 2008
The dirty thirties
Sorry to interrupt everyone's preparations for their Jonestown Massacre anniversary parties, but I wanted to let you all know that it's my thirtieth birthday today, and true to form, I decided to ring in my third decade of life with a soul-crushing hangover. I wanted to write a long ode to my own magnificent awesomeness today, but thanks to the inordinate number of complimentary shots and pitchers at my football bar yesterday, I'm barely going to be able to muster the energy to get to the afternoon talks of the thrilling virology conference that Mt. Sinai threw in honor of my natal celebration. So far my birthday weekend has involved drinking, football, drinking, Korean barbecue, drinking, hot lesbian sex, drinking, and drinking. An afternoon of talks about innate immunity and interferon antagonism (followed by more drinking, Monday Night Football with dudes from my fantasy league, and drinking) is certainly going to do a lot to distract from the fact that I currently look like I got trampled by a team of Budweiser Clydesdales.
Oh, yeah, and I dyed my hair brown to celebrate this historic occasion. Happy 30th Razzy Vagina Ejection Day! Razzyphiles can feel free to send pearls, which are traditionally given at thirtieth anniversaries of totally kickass instances, such as me blessing the earth with my inimitable (and loud, crass, obnoxiously charming) presence. I particularly appreciate receiving pearl necklaces. Razzy Haters, I'm a year older and thus an even MORE haggard, strung-out, washed-up, totally beat-down old crone, so have at it!
Labels: aging, alcoholism, Razzification, Razzy Haters, Razzyphiles
Friday, October 10, 2008
If I don't do nothin', I'm-a ball
My reputation for expert braininess continues to precede me. When Razzyphiles find they are having a little trouble, they can of course go read my instructional essay on the topic. Unfortunately, sometimes specific situations arise that necessitate going straight to the source for assistance with all their cocksucking needs, and I'm happy to oblige. That's exactly what happened when I received this e-mail today:
Razzy, my roommate and I have been arguing this same point over and over for about a week now. Since I hold your opinion of fellatio techniques in the highest regard, I have come to you. My roommate is convinced that putting a ball entirely in ones mouth during oral sex is "unnecessary and gross". I say, when it comes to oral sex, you get what you give. My argument for putting a ball (or two) into my mouth occasionally during fellatio is that I love to hear my name being screamed. Not that having a ball in my mouth makes him scream, but the overall effect of a quality blowjob (which necessitates switching it up a bit).
Thoughts?
Well, I could not agree with the author more. I count myself staunchly in the pro-ball-or-two-in-mouth camp for the exact reason the author describes: it's important in the bedroom in general to make like David Silver and switch it up, and assuredly when demonstrating one's sword-swallowing abilities. A lot of girls think that sucking dick is just that: sticking a dick in your mouth and applying some suction. Actually, a lot of girls think it's just sticking the head in your mouth and jerking the guy off because doing some actual throat work is a hassle, and I think that's both a lazy cop-out and indicative of a greater character flaw. In cocksucking and in life, I have no respect for slags who strive for mediocrity at best. Besides, as I've said before many times, it's called a fucking job for a reason! It's not supposed to be easy, but hard work has its rewards. FDR once said that "happiness lies in the joy of achievement and the thrill of creative effort," and I wholeheartedly concur. As the author notes above, you get what you give. Greater investment will yield greater returns, and in this day of collapsing stock markets, getting paid back in gratification for a well-rounded BJ may be one of the few remaining low-risk investments left to us.
While putting balls in your mouth is optional, it shouldn't be discounted as "unnecessary." It may not be necessary for a basic blowjob, but as I already mentioned, any remotely admirable woman isn't going to aspire to boring the dude whose dick she's sucking with her banal, uninspired, lazy technique. Blowjobs are like cars in this way; sure, a boring, sensible Kia Rio with vinyl seats, manual windows, and a tape deck will get you where you need to go, but wouldn't you enjoy riding in some top of the line S-class Benz with fancy leather interior, a custom sound system, and every tricked-out car accoutrement in the book more? Sucking on balls is the built-in GPS navigation system of a blowjob: it's not required, but it sure does make the whole package seem a lot more luxurious and indulgent.
Also, testicle-mouth interfacing isn't gross. I can only imagine that the chick who attests that it is is relatively inexperienced, because in the pantheon of nasty sexual stuff, scrotum sucking is pretty tame. Obviously any chick who thinks it's sick has never rimmed a dude or stuck a finger up a guy's ass. I'll admit that most fellas' family jewels have a certain pungent muskiness to them, but that's actually appealing to someone like me who is a connoisseur of stinky aged semi-soft European cheeses. Apart from the occasional annoying inadvertant pube-flossing that can occur when a stray hair gets dislodged in your mouth, there's really nothing too gross about having a set of nuts on your tonsils. In fact, that reminds me of Dr. Dre/Snoop lyrics, which in turn makes me feel comforted and nostalgically joyful.
So, ladies, take my advice as a certified Head Doctor who has performed many a surgery: my official position is that when you are giving some brain, make sure you have a ball.
Labels: correspondence, perversion, Razzyphiles, sex, WWRD
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
The Razzy.org monkey trial
When I wrote this past weekend's post about my planned Sarah Palin Halloween costume, I didn't expect to get that many comments, if any at all. Who really cares what my Halloween costume is beyond a couple "oh, ha ha, you're pretending that gross dog of yours is a baby with Downs syndrome" quips? Therefore, I was surprised when the comment section blew up with readers hotly debating the merits of evolution versus creationism. The back-and-forth is getting a little heated, so I figured it was high time I stepped into the fray. Besides, if you want to know about evolution from the top down, there's nobody better to ask than me. I'm one of the most highly evolved human beings the world has ever seen. This is true, and you'll find diagrams like the one below in most reputable biology textbooks. Look it up!
The comment that started all this was by the ever-wily "anonymous." Actually, it was a couple of anonymous comments, the first one suggesting that I shouldn't be so happy about voting for McCain because he's a dick and because he represents "extremists who want to ban books and teach creationism in public schools." This baited some anonymous creationist, who responded with the spark that ignited the powder keg:
Why is teaching creationism extremist? It takes more faith to believe in evolution than creation.
My buddy Morrissey'sHair vehemently disagreed with this, and proceeded to set it off with some of his patented comment page bitchery. Some other people got in on the action, and I have to say I can't blame them. The above comment makes no sense whatsoever to me, along with some of the quips this person has since posted, such as "I beleive [sic] there is more evidence for a Creator (not throwing religion around here) than there is for the evolution 'theory'" and "there is more proof for creation than evolution."
Before I get into why I think the theory of evolution is correct, however, I would like to note that I am also a creationist. I believe in God, and that this God created the heaven and the earth and the birds and the bees and all that trash. However, I don't believe that God did all this in 6 24-hour days and then took a day off exactly as described in the Book of Genesis. I am well aware that the Bible (or any other account of divine creation from other faiths) is not intended as a scientific text, and that the whole Adam and Eve business is a myth to explain a religious truth (God's omnipotence and creative power) rather than an accurate account of how the whole creation business went down. For this reason, I have never found my creationist beliefs as a Catholic to contradict my understanding of evolution as a fundamental principle of biology as a professional scientist. Belief in God is inherently a matter of faith, since God wouldn't be God if you could prove his existence or otherwise understand him by our imperfect human means. Therefore, if you believe in God, you can't prove anything about what he gets up to, and you'd be an ignorant moron to try and take some four millenia-old Hebrew mythology and try to spin it as credible evidence capable of proving or disproving any scientific theory. Creationism is an inherently unprovable belief, while the science that yielded the theory of evolution is a method for answering questions through experimentation and reason. Because reason and faith operate within different realms, I have never thought that creationism contradicted or disputed evolution, and I do not think they should even be discussed in the same conversation.
That said, the unfortunate proliferation of slow-witted, excessively religious idiots in this country have somehow convinced everyone that creationism, despite being entirely rooted in faith (which is by definition irrational), is a scientifically legitimate alternative theory to evolution. I don't care what faith your creation narrative of choice is based on; believing in a divine creator just because it suits your individual spiritual beliefs is a theory which cannot be proven or even tested experimentally, and thus has no business in a debate about biology in the first place. I think that the creationist movement has illustrated this by going out of their way to give "creationism" the trappings of science. I don't care if it's called "intelligent design;" if it's based on the notion that God is somehow involved, it's not scientific and has no business being described as such, much less taught in science classes. If you're going to teach "creationism" as legitimate science, then how do you even decide which creation story to go with? Who is to say there is any more proof backing the Judeo-Christian version of things than that earth was a chick named Gaia who banged a sky-dude named Uranus and begat the Titans? The fact is that the only "proof" behind any tale of divine creation is the conviction of the faithful who subscribe to that particular mythology and their selectively chosen claims about pseudoscientific instances of evolution being contradicted that only serve to illustrate their ignorance of biology.
I've noticed that the creationist crew likes to point out that evolution is a "theory," not a fact, and has busted out with a bunch of supposed "evidence" about how evolution contradicts nature. For example, evolution violates the second law of thermodynamics. For those of you who are rusty on your high school chemistry, let me remind you that this is also known as the law of entropy, or the notion that all ordered systems proceed toward disorder. The creationists argue that since Darwinism mandates beings evolving to a "higher" or "better" state of being, this can't be consistent with our understanding of entropy. However, this argument ignores the molecular basis for evolution, which is genetic mutation. As a commenter correctly pointed out, this is a random process, both in terms of how mutation is generated and the environmental conditions that lead to specific mutations being selected. Now that we have the technology available to sequence and apply bioinformatics to entire genomes, we can trace specific genetic changes between evolutionary relatives. For example, we can use sophisticated analytical techniques to mine sequence data and determine roughly when the human lineage diverged from the common ancestor we share with our closest primate relative, the chimpanzee. Suggesting that evolution has a "goal" to somehow result in a "higher" or "better" being demonstrates nothing save ignorance about the molecular basis of life. But just in case it isn't enough to point out that the old "second law of thermodynamics" attempt at disproving evolution is a bust, I should point out that a proper application of scientific fundamentals also negates creationism. The laws of conservation of mass and energy essentially demonstrate that something (whether matter or energy, and life certainly constitutes BOTH) cannot be created from nothing, which is inconveniently THE essential feature of any creationist hypothesis. I suppose it is convenient supporting a theory that allows the most fundamental principles of any branch of science to be violated due to the presence of an omnipotent God.
Another pseudoscientific argument I expected to come up in this debate is the issue of "microevolution," and sure enough, I was not disappointed. The concept of "microevolution" has been developed by the so-called "intelligent design" community to discount experimental data supporting evolution. Microevolution is the notion that changes occur at or below the species level (such as phenotypic differences in dog breeds or pathogenic bacteria evolving drug resistance due to antibiotic overuse), but not at a larger level (such as dinosaurs evolving into modern-day birds). The only difference is the time scale, as over millions versus thousands of years, organisms accumulate more and more mutations distinguishing them from their evolutionary progenitors. I suspect what the creationists like to call "macroevolution"–or distinction at higher taxonomic levels–will be proven eventually. The only difference between genetic variations distinguishing an eagle from a hawk compared to those distinguishing a velociraptor from any extant bird are the cumulation of many mutations over time. Unfortunately, we can't extract high-quality DNA from dinosaurs to prove they are the "macro"-evolutionary ancestors of birds with existing technology. As soon as we do have that technology, I expect that the fossil record will be linked by molecular means rather than the simple linking of common phenotypic traits. I find the evidence of "microevolution" extremely convincing that ALL evolution proceeds in this manner from personal experience.
I work on RNA viruses, which are probably the fastest-evolving almost-organisms known to science (viruses are "almost-organisms" since they are not technically alive, as they can't reproduce without a host cell). RNA viruses have an incredibly high mutation rate, because the enzymes that copy their genomes have an incredibly high error rate. These enzymes, known as RNA polymerases, make an error in replicating genomes 10 times more frequently than DNA polymerases. Also, unlike DNA polymerases, they don't have reliable proofreading capabilities. Also, RNA viruses can reproduce in 6-12 hours, meaning that between their rapid generation time and high mutation rate, they can "evolve" right in your lab incubator. If I want to make a rhinovirus that grows well in mouse cells, for example, I can just culture rhinovirus in mouse cells over and over again. Eventually I will select variants which are adapted to growth in mouse cells, and in fact, I have...that's the basis of my entire doctoral thesis. The intelligent design people can call this, as well as similar variant selection strategies for bacteria and other rapidly dividing microbes, "microevolution" to dismiss it as an actual example supporting Darwin's theory. However, this is no different than evolution of larger organisms over longer periods of time. We can never see humans evolve into different species because our generation time spans decades rather than hours, and we are complex multicellular organisms that need to accumulate more mutations to display an obvious phenotype, much less one significant enough to be considered a divergent species. However, it happens the same way for humans, dinosaurs, whales, and anything else with a genome made of nucleic acids that it does with RNA viruses. I don't see how any reasonable, intelligent person can say that maybe "evolution" in the form of genotypic mutations resulting in the selection of particular phenotypic variants more adapted to growth in their environmental conditions occurs only in the microbial world, but every other living thing on earth was created on days 4-6 of the Genesis narrative.
I doubt that I've convinced anyone on the merits of the "theory" of evolution who was already determined that creationism is more reasonable, more probable, or less extremist. In fact, as I've been working on this post, the debate has raged on and culminated in the creationist implying that all the evolutionists are going to Hell. While that's not explicitly stated, I certainly know a veiled burn-in-Hell threat when I see one:
Oh course there's really only one way to test this theory, and we ALL will test it one day, die. Of course if I'm wrong, what's my loss, I'm dead. If you're wrong well...You better be 100% sure you're right, you have much more to lose than I do.
One thing I am 100% sure about is that our death and ascension to the afterlife is a pretty shitty test of which theory is right. I have no idea whether or not anyone gets filled in on how God rolls with running the life game once they die. Furthermore, I have a hard time believing that using what I consider our God-given reason to accept a theory that has been extensively proven by a number of experiments and observations is something meriting eternal damnation. For one thing, as I said before, I am a creationist who ALSO fully subscribes to the theory of evolution. Evolution doesn't exclude divine creation; it just excludes the six day creation theory. In fact, the more I know about evolution, the more impressed I am at how brilliant God's creation actually is. If anything, I think evolution supports the existence of God more than excludes or denies it, so I hardly think it's something worthy of a neverending trip to perdition. Of course, in my case, this is probably a moot point since St. Peter's just going to take a gander at my file and send me straight to the "Down" escalator, but I doubt it's going to be because I think evolution is a valid and convincing explanation for the wonders of the living world. That's one thing I have a certain measure of faith in.
Labels: Dear God, nerd alert, Razzyphiles, retard rage, science
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Porn is for pussies, and I mean that in a good way
I got a fun piece of fan mail from a Razzyphile who requested the moniker DrunkenStumble a while back:
Razzy!
Though a contemplation of an email has been in the works for nearly a year, I finally had to send one in upon reading Aunt Jesus. Your Aunt Jesus smells an awful lot like my Uncle ... let's call him John (after the Baptist who, let's face it, looked more like a caveman than the baptizer of Jesus) who is a hypocrite of the highest order. He went from awesome drunken party boy to saintly congregation president with the turn of a screw. He also goes into what I've guessed to be Jesus induced hazes whenever homosexuality, liberals, or alcohol is mentioned. This I find EXTREMELY odd seeing that him and my dad's brother is walking that razor's edge between HIV and AIDS and is so far in the closet he's next door fellating the neighbor.
Now I'm one of many Razzyphiles on facebook and finally hunted you down to friend you on facebook, I can't help but thank you for bringing out my inner slut. Before I had met my ex I was so buttoned up that if anyone mentioned porn star I was crimson from the neck down and knowing porn stars openly was a bit of my dirty little secret. My ex introduced me to the site and upon the discovery that someone else thought Belladonna was pretty bad ass made me realize that living the boring life I'd had wasn't going to cut it. So, a smattering of mediocre bed rompings later, I find that you're the best thing I got out of dating my ex.
Now I finally have someone who also thinks John McCain is made of awesome and isn't touting a "God Hates Fags" sign makes the world a far easier place to live in.DrunkenStumble
I always love a good fawning e-mail, but I particularly love one that credits me for bringing a woman living an admittedly "boring life" to Jesus Belladonna. I think every woman could learn a thing or two from Belladonna, and not just how to (BOTH SUPER NSFW) make Cytheria erupt like Old Faithful or get double fisted by Jenna Haze. In fact, every woman could learn a lot from watching porn in general, and not just about sex. Porn teaches you what feminism is really all about.
Even when I was an angry feminazi type with a Ms. subscription and a chip on my shoulder about the patriarchy, I just couldn't get behind the deeply man-hating feminist theories of women like Catherine MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin. These dumb bitches overcompensated for decades of being the ugliest fat hags at the bra burning rally by declaring all penetrative sex to be rape and claiming that pornography is a violation of women's civil rights. In a post she wrote discussing the world's most embarrassing Jews, my friend LL Cool Jew, a liberal, 1970s radical-bred, NPR-listening, lesbian on sabbatical from San Francisco, had some choice words to say about Andrea Dworkin the Hutt and her vehement anti-pornography stance:
This is a bitch against whom I passionately railed as a righteously sexually liberated Smith College junior for her repressive, primitive, man-hating, female-sexuality-mistrusting, straight-up-First-Amendment-violating crusade against porn. Saying porn does damage to women necessarily means that women don't enjoy porn, and every woman I know can attest against that. Anyway, don't get me started. Suffice it to say, thank God the good old U.S. Constitution was around to fend off that fat, embarrassing Jewess.
Even back in the day when I was wearing ill-fitting men's clothes, rocking the world's worst baby dyke haircut, jamming to my Bikini Kill CDs, and writing "RIOT GRRL" on my knuckles, I felt the same way as LL Cool Jew. No matter how pissed off I was about the nefarious patriarchy supposedly keeping us down and no matter how many bad poems I wrote, bands from Olympia, Portland, or San Francisco I admired, or unflattering pairs of Salvation Army cords I donned to express my subversion of the male establishment, I never directed my ire at pornography. Even before I had seen any porn, I could appreciate its intrinsic value to society, and specifically to women.
I realize that most porn is geared toward men and their fantasies, and that might lead an anger-prone feminist to believe that it is inherently sexist. I've seen a lot of things in porn that compel me to roll my eyes because they were so obviously thought up by a dude, such as peroxide blondes with five-inch acrylic claws fingerbanging each other and acting like they are shrieking with pleasure rather than vagina-ripping agony, or the feigned joys of a strap-on blowjob. The small amount of "female friendly" porn available is usually incredibly boring, relying more on romantic storylines and foreplay than hardcore fucking. In fact, if you believe "Sex and the City," women get off on shoes and relationship drama rather than any kind of actual sexual activity. However, to suggest that because porn is geared toward men indicates that it is exclusively their province would be wholly erroneous.
The other night, I was hanging out with a bunch of my bitches and I was regaling them with tales about how I learned to love performing fellatio. This turned into an instructional session involving me demonstrating some techniques on a beer bottle and referring some skeptics to recent posts from this very blog. One particularly resistant pupil continued to raise an eyebrow at me, so I said, "Oh, hell, just go watch some blowjob videos on RedTube and emulate it." The reaction at the table was explosive.
"I FUCKING LOVE RedTube!" exclaimed the hesitant cocksucker. "That shit rules!"
"What's RedTube? Is that like YouPorn? I'm on YouPorn all the time!" added one of her friends, who, I should add, was a pain-in-the-ass overly political lesbian.
"RedTube is my jam, for sure," said another one of the girls.
I should add that, of all these women, I am probably the most sexually in-your-face girl there. These ladies aren't prudes, but many of them are definitely the kinds of girls who don't fuck strangers or put out on the first date or have threesomes or otherwise engage in my kind of slutty antics. In spite of the fact, however, that they are all "good girls" with successful careers and lots of self-esteem, they are all apparently really into hardcore streaming tube sites. These women obviously don't consider porn to be objectifying or degrading. They consider it a source of enjoyment and a boon to their sexuality. Tons of women consume porn in spite of whatever male chauvinist trappings the self-loathing, man-fearing, sexuality-rejecting feminazi theorists of the old guard might base their wack-ass theories upon. The fact that many modern women have become so comfortable with their own sexuality that they consume male-directed porn with as much gusto as your average dick-jerking, woman-oppressing dude is a triumph for feminism.
I am happy to have done my part for the sex-positive women's movement by helping DrunkenStumble, a woman I've never met before, embrace her love of rubbing them off to Belladonna. Knowing that setting the example of an open, sexually liberated pervert helps other women achieve the same laudable goal is definitely one of the satisfying perks of being in the useless bullshit business, and it motivates me to continue singing the praises of smut. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go watch some porn.
Labels: correspondence, feminazism, I LOVE IT, perversion, porn, Razzyphiles, sex
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Anthrax ROCKS
I received the following e-mail from a Razzyphile the other day:
Hey, Razzy
Thank you for the useless bullshit. You are definitely fulfilling a societal need.
I was hoping you could post about the anthrax dude who recently killed himself. You are an expert in the field and we razzyphiles would like to hear from you anything germane to our greater understanding of the entire incident.
PS great rack
I'm a recent law school grad but not admitted so I can't help legally yet.
I am always happy to accommodate requests to drop some science for an interested Razzyphile, particularly one who simultaneously compliments my tits, declares the demand for useless bullshit a "societal need," and might be able to potentially join my crack pro bono legal team of criminal defense and bankruptcy attorneys once he passes the bar exam. I'm also always especially happy to discuss this sexy Gram-positive spore-forming facultative anaerobe:
I've had a real scientific hard-on for Bacillus anthracis since I started studying microbiology. By all accounts, it's a hardy little survivor, which is what makes it a successful pathogen and a relatively efficient biological weapon. The above picture (which looks like a colored transmission electron micrograph) depicts B. anthracis in a state called vegetative growth, which is the type of growth most people imagine bacteria do in an Erlenmeyer flask or a petri dish of culture media. They divide by binary fission until they run out of nutrients or growth conditions become otherwise unfavorable. Most bacteria, like E. coli or Salmonella species, will proceed to die or at least stop dividing under conditions of nutrient deprivation, but B. anthracis can do something special. It can sporulate, meaning it changes into a dormant spore form, until it is again exposed to more favorable growth conditions. This is equivalent to watching TV and taking a nap on the couch when nothing good is on, to conserve your strength and attention for when something awesome like "I Love Money" or a rerun of Red Dawn merits waking up.
B. anthracis spores are extremely durable and can remain viable for decades in the soil, which is why livestock are most often afflicted with anthrax. The spores get from the earth into grazing animals' hair and basically hang out there. If they get into vulnerable areas of skin (via a cut or a mucosal surface like the eye), they germinate, and result in cutaneous anthrax. Generally the humans that get this are farmers, herders, slaughterhouse employees, and other people working with livestock. In both animals and humans, cutaneous anthrax presents as an ulcerating lesion that is usually pretty gross, but usually treatable with antibiotics and not fatal.
It's much more serious when the spores are inhaled and germinate in the lungs. Prior to the Cold War era of state-sponsored bioweapons programs, pulmonary anthrax was known as "Woolsorter's Disease," because it typically affected people who worked in places where animal hides were processed and resulted in high concentrations of airborne spores. However, when World War II came around, a number of countries (including the great U.S. of A., Great Britain, and the Soviet Union) decided to test the feasibility of using aerosolized anthrax spores as a biological weapon. They are naturally a great bioweapon because not only are the spores incredibly hardy, but pulmonary anthrax is not transmissible from person-to-person. Therefore, you can target an enemy efficiently without worrying about causing an epidemic. However, nobody ever used anthrax as a weapon in an actual war, partly because of the lasting effects. Gruinard Island, off the Scottish coast, was used by British scientists to test their anthrax bombs in the hopes of using them against Germany. They stopped developing anthrax as a weapon when they concluded that, while effective at killing their test sheep, the spores were so durable that they would render any German city attacked this way uninhabitable for years afterward. In fact, Gruinard Island was so heavily contaminated that it was quarantined for almost 50 years after these tests, until the Brits got sick of going back to test it all the time and bombed the whole place with 280 metric tons of formaldehyde.
The major world powers then signed a treaty in 1972 pledging not to develop new biological or chemical weapons. Apart from an incident in the Russian city of Sverdlovsk in 1979 when a number of factory workers across the street from a "vaccine plant" died from pulmonary anthrax (the Kremlin attributed the incident to contaminated meat, while Soviet defectors involved in the Soviet bioweapons program attributed it to a filter being left off an exhaust vent), no government has openly developed anthrax as a biological weapon. However, anthrax is still studied from both a basic research and a biodefense perspective, and there are certainly cultures of highly virulent B. anthracis growing in many research facilities all over the world.
For anyone with a basic knowledge of microbiological technique, weaponized anthrax is easy to make. In fact, if you can make homebrewed beer, you can make an anthrax weapon. Anthrax is not like Ebola virus, which is hard to get, harder to culture, and almost impossible to deliver to the intended targets. If you wanted to attack someone with Ebola, you'd have to go to Africa in the midst of an Ebola outbreak, somehow smuggle viable samples of virus through customs (and "samples" in this case would probably consist of bloody vomit or shit from an Ebola patient on ice), find a bunch of monkeys to covertly infect to grow more virus, and try to attack and inject infected tissues from these monkeys into my unfortunate victims since most strains of Ebola (at least the ones that infect humans) don't appear to be airborne. Since Ebola is a virus, it needs a host cell to grow in, and the virus particles alone are not stable for long at room temperature or when exposed to UV radiation (ie: sunlight). You can't just make some powdered Ebola and spray it all over people, and someone is bound to notice if you're running around attacking people with a syringe. There's about fifty ways that such a scheme would fail, and even if you somehow did manage to make some homegrown Ebola, it would be pretty fucking difficult to infect many people before your evil plot was discovered.
Anthrax is much easier to make. I could go dig up soil from a cow pasture in Oklahoma, culture anthrax bacilli from that, grow them in a fermentation tank which can be constructed from materials at my local hardware store, dry the culture, chop it into powder, and mail it to whoever I wanted. Even worse, pulmonary anthrax is usually deadly, because the initial symptoms aren't much different than a chest cold. Unlike other bacteria that cause pneumonia by growing to the point of taking over the lungs, pulmonary anthrax causes respiratory failure via a toxin the bacteria secrete. By the time it becomes apparent that a patient has pulmonary anthrax versus a more common respiratory pathogen, even getting rid of the bacteria with antibiotics doesn't get rid of the toxin, and then it's usually too late. Therefore, it's quite easy for someone with a rudimentary knowledge of microbiology to make a deadly, easily transportable terrorist weapon. Fortunately, most scientists (including myself) aren't looking to break into the bioterrorism business, and have serious ethical problems with biological weapons. Unfortunately, there are some who do not fit that description, which is where the recently suicide-d Dr. Bruce Ivins comes in.
In the wake of those anthrax mail attacks in 2001, the federal government obviously put a lot of effort into determining where that anthrax came from. Like people or any other living organism, anthrax from a lab is genetically distinct from anthrax in a podunk cow pasture somewhere, so the government was able to determine that it came from a virulent lab strain. In fact, it came from a strain that our own government uses to develop anthrax vaccines. That's why the government fucked up royally by running a colossally inept investigation of Dr. Steven Hatfill, the wrong anthrax scientist, who just collected a $5 million settlement from the federal government for the ruin it wrought on his career and his not-a-terrorist reputation.
As it turns out, it was more likely Dr. Bruce Ivins, who killed himself last week when he discovered that he was going to be indicted on capital murder charges for being the actual anthrax mailer. Dr. Ivins was involved in all sorts of sketchy activity, including renting post office boxes under assumed names, using his lab after-hours (although as a grad student, that seems like a perfectly normal workday in the slave labor culture of academic research), having a number of unreported anthrax spills, threatening to kill co-workers, frightening his shrink into getting a restraining order against him, and being strangely obsessed with the Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority at Princeton. He was also apparently a loner and a dick.
While anyone has reason to be skeptical of the FBI's largely circumstantial case against the late Dr. Ivins given their total shitshow of an investigation into the now-exonerated Dr. Hatfill, I can state from personal experience that science has been known to harbor some disturbed people that remind me of Dr. Ivins. Without specifically referring to anyone in particular, a person with a need to dominate, threaten, and harass his colleagues, has a troublesome and obsessive relationship with women, does not respond to reprimands or psychological treatment, and takes no personal responsibility for his actions is not unprecedented in the field of microbiology. Unfortunately, these kinds of mentally unstable people can simultaneously be good enough at their jobs to get access to dangerous pathogens, and sometimes the underlying craziness isn't recognized until it's too late.
Even worse, this personality type can sometimes combine the monstrous need to kill innocent people via anthrax with a desire for personal gain. Because these people are Ph.D scientists, they are obviously intelligent, and can sometimes engineer a situation to benefit financially from their own reprehensible crimes. For example, a person might be able to get away with being a scary, abusive, potentially violent asshole by threatening lawsuits or otherwise manipulating the legal system to get what they want along with a substantial cash award. In Dr. Ivins's case, his numerous patent claims over anthrax vaccine technology would provide a significant financial motive to create a nationwide panic about attacks with weaponized anthrax. Currently, the anthrax vaccine approved for use in the U.S. is primarily reserved for military personnel and the odd first-responder. If everyone in the country suddenly became hysterical over the prospect of a large-scale anthrax attack, the demand for a vaccine would increase logarithmically. Dr. Ivins stood to make millions of dollars personally from this kind of nationwide terror, and that can only be icing on the cake for acting out on his reprehensible misanthropic impulses.
Now, many people are probably wondering whether or not they should be afraid of future anthrax attacks since it's so easy to grow and distribute as a lethal bioweapon. I would say no. Sure, the possibility exists. So does the possibility of a flu pandemic as serious as the Spanish flu of 1918 that killed as many as 100 million people by some estimations. So does the possibility of some terrorist getting their hands on one of the few poorly secured smallpox samples, of an airborne strain of Ebola emerging, of all bacteria developing multiple antibiotic resistance, and so on. The Russians alone have a whole arsenal of Cold War-era biological weapons that could be procured on the black market and released, but I'm not laying awake worrying about dying from a terrorist attack of weaponized Soviet tularemia or glanders. The microbiological world is full of nasty (and fascinating) pathogens, and there are plenty of nasty human beings who would gladly facilitate their assault on us. However, I find it more productive to worry about the infectious problems we already have to contend with than the ones that may or may not decimate our civilization. I think it's much more practical and sensible to worry about getting HIV when I have incautious drunk sex with a fellow New York City resident than to fret that there's a slight chance some lunatic spiked my cable bill with anthrax spores. Hell, I'm even more worried that I might get herpes! I dodged that bullet one time when I ALMOST had unprotected sex with a guy who then advised me that he had it (because he is a decent and ENTIRELY admirable human being), and 20% of adults have the herp. As a microbiologist, I'd advise you all to think more about the scourges we already face than the hypothetical ones that might be.
Labels: correspondence, crime and punishment, epidemic geekery, nerd alert, Razzyphiles, science, terror, viruses rule
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Daily Douchebag: dog haters
Name: ASSHOLES
DOB: whenever assholes are born
Occupation: hating on man's best friend
Hometown: wherever assholes come from
Current residence: Toronto, Canada and New York, New York
Douchebaggery: This past week, Razzyphile L&L e-mailed me to inform me of some very disturbing goings on at High Park in Toronto where she lives with her super cute French bulldog Lamont. Apparently, there is an area of the "off-leash" section currently being contested by various factions. The dog people want this to stay a dog area, while some bitch-ass environmentalist types have complained that the area is getting "trampled." The debate has grown very heated, and as a result, some sick bastard has decided to up the ante in favor of the dog haters: by leaving out bread soaked in antifreeze.
If you don't have dogs, then you may not know that antifreeze is one of the most famous dog poisons of all time next to chocolate. Supposedly antifreeze tastes sweet and dogs particularly like it, so every year there are some accidental dog deaths resulting from dogs licking antifreeze that spills from leaky radiators. However, for someone to leave out chunks of bread soaked in antifreeze in the off-leash area of Toronto's version of Central Park is nothing short of a cold-hearted attempt to murder unsuspecting pets. Already two dogs have died from eating the poisoned bread, and four are hospitalized. The detective charged with investigating has said she believes the dog assassin is motivated by the dispute.
I am always astounded at the lengths some people will go to in order to express their disdain for dogs. The other day I was at my local park in the informal "off-leash" area (translation: an area that nobody goes to where I illegally let my dogs run around), when some guy came up and said "Excuse me, lady, but there ARE leash laws." I took a look at him and realized he was just some fat motherfucker who had been sitting around the chess-playing enclosure several blocks away.
"Yeah, well, they're not bothering anyone here," I said, shrugging.
"There are CHILDREN in this park," he said. "We can't just have dogs running around when there's kids playing." I turned to look at my dogs. Caesar was sitting chewing on a stick, and Chingy! was sniffing a tree trunk/potential urine target like a wine connoisseur with a glass of vintage Cabernet. Likewise, I didn't see ANY children anywhere nearby.
"My dogs aren't bothering anyone," I reiterated slightly more defiantly. "And they are very friendly. They don't even pay attention to children."
The guy started getting pissed. "That doesn't matter! You need to leash those animals RIGHT NOW. There are children here!"
"Yeah, I get that," I said, starting to get pissed. Where does this motherfucker get off telling me that these absent children are supposed to be my concern? I HATE kids. I WISH my dogs would start harassing them rather than ignoring them in favor of sticks to chase and bushes to piss on. Furthermore, I can see in the distance that the chess area table this tubby fucker had just vacated was filled with dudes passing around a blunt. Apparently, my dogs not bothering anyone is a big threat to kids, but OPENLY SMOKING POT NEXT TO THE FUCKING PLAYGROUND is not. "Well, are you a cop? Are you going to write me a ticket?" I asked bitchily. I figured as long as he was busy getting high with his chess-playing friends, he wouldn't snitch. I figured wrong.
"I'm calling the cops, you fucking entitled white bitch!" he snarled at me, pulling out his cell phone.
I gave him a venomous eye-roll, and leashed my dogs. Not that the cops would come in a rapid manner for such a complaint, or actually get me in very much trouble, but in New York City a leash law violations isn't a ticket; it's a summons that you HAVE to go to court for. Not wanting to deal with that hassle and not wanting to ultimately pay $100 per dog, I figured I would just end our morning constitutional there. "Fine," I said in my bitchiest tone of voice. "We're leaving."
Unfortunately, even complying with his request didn't shut this fucker up. "YOU FUCKING BITCH, YOU THINK YOU OWN THE PARK?" he shouted at me. "YOU FUCKING ENTITLED PEOPLE WITH YOUR FUCKING DOGS! IT'S NOT YOUR FUCKING PARK!"
"Oh, really?" I snapped back. "I didn't realize it was actually YOUR park!"
"THERE ARE FUCKING KIDS PLAYING HERE! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE WITH YOUR FUCKING DOGS, YOU FUCKING WHITE BITCH!"
I'm not going to even attempt reasoning or shouting at someone whose argument revolves around the fact that I'm acting "entitled," I'm white, I'm a bitch, and there are allegedly children in the vicinity who can be somehow damaged by my dogs. Sure, my dogs were in violation of the leash law, but as I said, they weren't anywhere near him, his blunt-smoking chess friends, or any children. I always try to stay away from other people in the park when letting my dogs run around to be respectful of the fact that not everyone is dog-crazy, and to avoid such conflicts. Furthermore, there are a ton of people who let their dogs run around in this area, and to my knowledge no problems have occurred related to dog bites or anything of that ilk. This guy just hates dogs, so he decided to shamble halfway across the park to bark orders at me, threaten police involvement, and inexplicably bring my racial phenotype and supposed sense of entitlement to unleash my dogs in an unused green space into the matter. All I can say to a dude like that is "FUCK YOU, HATER!"
I can't understand where dog haters come from, because dogs make my life wonderful. Sure, they're a pain in the ass, but at the end of the day, my dogs are fantastic companions who bring a great deal of joy into my life and I love them dearly (even Chingy!). I can understand how someone like J-Sexy, who is a "tidy" person according to her, doesn't want to own dogs because of the problems with hair and slobber and poop-scooping that comes with the territory. Even she understands, though, how deeply dog owners bond with their pets and love them as members of their family. However, I cannot understand why anyone would go out of their way to ensure that my dogs have to stay on a leash in spite of not threatening or harassing anyone, much less resort to poisoning dogs for the crime of trampling grass in the course of exercising and playing. There is something inherently wrong with a person who hates a sweet, loving, completely innocent dog's existence so much that they would conspire to kill them with antifreeze-soaked bread (as well as any other unfortunate animals in the area, such as the raccoons that have died as collateral damage). Between the racist leash law snitch in my park and the underground dog murderer in Canada, dog hating is on the rise. I can only assume this means that the contemporary human condition is in even worse shape than I originally thought.
And on that depressing note, I'm going to go walk my dogs OFF-LEASH. Illegally. Fuck the dog haters.
Labels: Caese Doggy Dogg, CHONGAY CHONG, Daily Douchebag, doggity style, Razzyphiles
Friday, June 20, 2008
Happy birthday, Morrissey'sHair and HotLawyer!
I've made it a tradition to publicly acknowledge my friends Morrissey'sHair and HotLawyer's birthdays for the last couple years, because they were reading my site before ANY of my other friends when it was just a couple crappy movie reviews. They are the OG Titanium Elite-level Razzyphiles and that I must recognize. Plus, they're my boys and I get together with them lots whenever I'm home in the P-N-Dub. Here's some fun facts about them:
-They are appropriately Geminis, as they are twins
-Morrissey'sHair is older than HotLawyer by four minutes, just like Brandon and Brenda Walsh
-You can tell them apart because Morrissey'sHair broke his nose in junior high
-I totally boned one of them years ago (you can speculate as to which one). We were drunk. No harm, no foul!
-They are both lawyers. HotLawyer gets people off on DUIs and meth lab charges, while Morrissey'sHair negotiates bankruptcy settlements for the financially fucked
-HotLawyer has provided me with many pro boner legal services in the past whenever some fucktard threatens me with Craigslist rape or lawsuits
-Morrissey'sHair probably WILL have to provide me with pro boner legal services if I don't get out of grad school and start making some goddamned real money soon
-They both have a sickening devotion to Morrissey
-They once sent me a Rush Limbaugh book in high school from a "secret admirer" because I was such a bleeding heart neo-marxist feminazi lesbian back then. Now, they're both rabid Obama supporters and I'm a Republican. The tables have turned.
-My father LOVES them, especially HotLawyer, because of the praise they lavish on his cooking. When I mentioned I was coming home this summer for a visit, he asked, "So, what night are we having those guys over for dinner? HotLawyer sure does like my cooking."
-They're both hot studly dudes, great drankin patnaz, and totz kewl guys!
Anyway, their birthday is actually TOMORROW, but since stupid Apple has my computer somewhere in Texas while they fix it, I won't be able to post anything for them since I'll be getting drunk and sunburnt at the Coney Island Mermaid Parade all day. So today I'm recognizing that my fellas are turning the big 3-0! Only two more decades to go before they're officially over the hill.
Happy birthday, dudes. I'm going to get drunk and try to feel up some mermaid tits in your honor!
XOBJBS,
Razzy
And just for you two, here's a picture of Morrissey. Like Caese and Chingy!, he hates Iams dog food. Unlike Caese and Chingy!, it's probably because Iams isn't vegan or something. Caese and Chingy! are just Beneful loyalists.
Labels: aging, HotLawyer, Morrissey'sHair, Razzyphiles
Monday, June 02, 2008
I'm behind and I'm sorry!
So I just checked my RAZZY.org e-mail (which is something I don't do as often as I should, mainly because there's so much spam that it's aggravating sorting through it to find real e-mail from Razzyphiles and Razzy Haters), and was distressed to see that I'm getting WAY behind on my e-mail returning. I try to be good about this, but sometimes I just get sidetracked. If you've written to me lately, you might be thinking to yourself, "Who does that fucking bitch think she is to not respond? I took time to give her excellent tips and supportive words on quitting smoking or dealing with post-abortion stress/depression, or inquire about various internet, sex, and/or science-related things, or tell her she rules, or tell her I hate her, or suggest a daily dude/douchebag, or send a link to a funny news story! Talk about UNGRATEFUL to her readers!"
Well, I don't think I'm too good to return your e-mails. I just have a high standard for wit in e-mail responses, and I haven't had time to devote the attention they deserve. Therefore, I want to apologize for not getting around to this, and let you know that it isn't you, it's me. I love the fact that you all read what I put a lot of time and energy into writing, and I sincerely appreciate your making the effort to respond to it. I promise that I WILL get back to you...eventually. It's a busy time for me, what with R. Kelly on trial, and a full agenda of mice to kill, and an upcoming trip to New Orleans this weekend, so please be patient.
And in the meantime, as a token of my appreciation to all Razzyphiles and readers (whether corresponding with me or not), here's me showing some love in the form of tits, because while I'm certain you ALL read my website for the stunningly brilliant articles, nothing says "I love you" like an impromptu shot of my unshowered, barely awake self showing my cans at 6 a.m.
Labels: correspondence, excuses, nudity, Razzification, Razzy Haters, Razzyphiles
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Jesus would approve
My friend, Razzyphile, and fellow blogger Gayman e-mailed me the other day asking if I'd ever heard of the website bigchurch.com. I had not, because--and I know you will all be filled with disbelief at this revelation--I'm not trying to score honeys on the fundamentalist Christian dating circuit.
Hard as it may be to believe, I did not meet the mystery guy I like on bigchurch.com. It would be amazing if I had, since he's not even Christian. Furthermore, I suspect that bigchurch.com's members don't "share the same spiritual beliefs" as myself, unless it's opposite day and their spiritual beliefs include a deep devotion to alcohol consumption, hitting it with girls on the side, and daily masturbation. "Christian" sounds to me like "not Catholic" and especially "not a bad, sinful, depraved ex-Catholic schoolgirl bisexual slut machine a la yours truly." I'm not trying to meet a cheesy Richard Marx-meets-Jason Priestley type such as the Bible boy above, and even if I were, I'd probably go try to find him at an actual church rather than bigchurch.com.
Gayman did not, however, send me this link in the hopes that my prayers of finding a respectable man would be answered. Rather, he did a bit of research into bigchurch.org, and discovered that it's owned by an unlikely media empire:
I wonder how all those devout Christians on bigchurch.com would feel knowing that their dating website is owned by one of the world's most infamous porn empires. I'm pretty sure that even if the folks seeking pious future spouses on bigchurch.com don't approve of or consider Penthouse's content congruous with their spiritual beliefs, Jesus would be down. He was always partying with hookers, tax collectors, lepers, and the other sinful freaks of greater Galilee and Judea, so I imagine he'd be just fine with pornographers diversifying their brands to grab some market share in the world of online Christian dating. Okay, maybe it's not exactly what Jesus would do himself, but I bet he's cool with it.
I wonder how all those devout Christians on bigchurch.com would feel knowing that their dating website is owned by one of the world's most infamous porn empires. I'm pretty sure that even if the folks seeking pious future spouses on bigchurch.com don't approve of or consider Penthouse's content congruous with their spiritual beliefs, Jesus would be down. He was always partying with hookers, tax collectors, lepers, and the other sinful freaks of greater Galilee and Judea, so I imagine he'd be just fine with pornographers diversifying their brands to grab some market share in the world of online Christian dating. Okay, maybe it's not exactly what Jesus would do himself, but I bet he's cool with it.
And since my Aunt Jesus is in the market for a sanctimonious scripture-spouting boyfriend, maybe I should pass along the link to bigchurch.com to her. Then at her wedding reception, I'll give a totally inappropriate impromptu speech thanking Penthouse AND God for bringing them together. Man, that would be so awesome.
Labels: Aunt Jesus, capitalism, correspondence, Dear God, internet domination, porn, Razzyphiles
Monday, May 05, 2008
To be a baby daddy, or not to be...
Razzyphiles are a clever bunch of people. They know who gives the world's best advice, and it sure as shit ain't Dear Abby (or whoever replaced her now that she's dead). When the going gets tough, they come straight to the most reliable source for guidance since the Oracle at Delphi: YOURS TRULY. In fact, my reasoned judgment is so legendary that even Razzyphiles I don't know personally turn to me for major life decisions, as did The Mugu, who has been approached by a friend for a favor in the form of this e-mail:
Hi, Mugu.
Outside of pursuing a romantic relationship, I'd really like it if you would consider being the sperm donor for my child. It's a lot to ask, even as I tell you that your involvement in the child's life would not be required. Please take your time thinking about the implications and let me know your thoughts.
-Some chickNaturally, upon receiving this e-mail, he e-mailed me:
what am I supposed to do!?!?!?!?!?! She is a nice african american woman...I like her tremendously. I am also honored by the request. BUT!!!!.....Well, I don't mind blessing loyal readers with my insight and opinion, so I didn't require payment in the form of money or black magic against the (asshole sonofabitch bastard) Shitsburgh Stealers, although practitioners of the dark arts should feel free to do as much of that as they like. Much like Mother Teresa, I am satisfied knowing that I've done a kindness for my fellow man. I initially thought about saying "HELL NO!" but then realized that this is just because I hate kids and don't encourage anyone to have them. However, then I remembered that most people don't categorically loathe children and tried to reason accordingly. Here's the advice I gave him:
I cant tell my friends. You are a straight shooter, For your advice I will pay, or do voodoo against the SHitsburg Steelers.
O Razzy, what is a man with good genes and a high IQ to do?
Well, I don't see anything wrong with passing along your genes. I mean, all you have to do is squirt in a cup and call it a day, right? Are you dating this chick? If so, I'd think very, VERY carefully about it. If you are romantically involved, there's no way that this will be as clinical as you being a "sperm donor." If not, then it just comes down to whether or not you are comfortable with the idea. It's okay if you're not. Being uncomfortable with an idea is as good and legitimate a reason as any for not doing something.It seems I didn't get the whole story. The Mugu has a girlfriend, one who judging by her affinity for wine isn't looking to get knocked up anytime soon (good for you, sister), and he advised me that he's a little nervous about how this would all go over on the homefront:
If you decide you are comfortable with it, then just make sure you have a lawyer drawing up legal documents addressing custody rights (ie: you waiving yours) and child support (ie: her waiving her claim to that) first.
Want me to ask the internets for you? Anonymously, of course (I'll remove your name, e-mail, etc.) Sometimes the Razzyphiles can provide great insight in terms of anonymous commentary.
Thanks RazzI think wine would certainly facilitate this proposal going over better with the missus. At least he'll get her honest reaction. I watched an episode of (the greatest show in the history of television) "Beverly Hills, 90210" this weekend, and when Clare Arnold and David Silver heard from the shitfaced LuAnn Pruit that her abusive troubadour son Ray cheated on Donna Martin with that (totally awesome) slut Valerie Malone, Clare noted, "In vino veritas." David replied, "You know I don't speak Spanish!" which made me laugh, but I digress. The point is that booze is like truth serum, so if he wants an honest response from his lady friend, there's no better way to get the full story on her thoughts than to bring it up while she's blitzed. However, I got to wondering why he doesn't just make a baby the old-fashioned way with his woman than the turkey baster way with some other chick. So I replied:
The problem is at 33 I kinda want one. I have never been 100% sure that I want a child. As I have gotten older, well, you know. Sometimes things change. A few years back I would have laughed boisterously in her face.
What am I supposed to tell my GF if I go ahead with this?!?!
me - so sweetheart did you have enough wine tonight?
gf- yes, 3 bottles was enough, was there something you wanted to tell me?
me- cough* you know that girl who called the other day.
gf- ya
me- well she wants me sperms
gf- (I have no idea how she would react) cringe*
Well, if you care about your girlfriend, you should discuss it with her first. Unless you can arrange to be an anonymous donor, in which case you probably would have to waive all rights to custody, etc.Realizing that this is quite the thorny problem, Mugu assented to having his would-be baby mama drama aired out online:
And if you want to have a kid, why not discuss that with your girlfriend?
Again, you want me to ask the internets for you?
Yes Razzy,So there you have it. All you wise advice-givers out there, please opine and help poor Mugu out. For one thing, if you don't, I'll look bad since he's gone through all trouble of licking at least one girl's ass in my honor. For another, I'm curious as to what other people have to say about this. Should Mugu share his genes with this woman? Should he tell his girlfriend if he does? Any of you lawyers out there know about what kind of documentation he needs to get in order? I've heard stories about women suing "anonymous" sperm donors for child support years after the fact, which to me would certainly argue against helping this lady out with some baby batter. What is a potential sperm donor to do? Holler back on the comments. Oh, and no need to send cock pictures. I currently have a surplus of those.
put my dirt on the internets. I would send you a cock shot but im at work.
As it stands she has already told me I can waive / sign off my rights. (altho I am not familiar wit my states laws regarding this.)
She does want me to be whatever part I can manage to play in the childs life.
fek, getting busy here.
thanks for taking the time to reply. I dont care what the haters say.
I will lick a girls ass in your honor tonite.
Labels: correspondence, destroy all children, for serious people, Razzyphiles, WWRD
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