Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Kayden Kross
Real name: ???
DOB: September 15, 1985
Occupation: porn star, blogger
Hometown: Sacramento, California
Current residence: ???--the San Fernando Valley, maybe?
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Kayden Kross is a porn star, albeit one I didn't pay much to until recently. Granted, Kayden Kross is a hot chick, but most porn stars are, and I hadn't really seen anything particularly memorable that she'd been in (although I'm sure I will, since she's now replacing Carmen Luvana as Adam and Eve's number one contract girl, and I buy all my sex toys from them because they throw in a free porn video). However, Kayden Kross recently started writing for one of the porn blogs I keep up with, and I was very, very surprised at her material.
Usually when porn stars blog, they write like they learned how from instant messaging and MySpace comment boards. Most content on porn star blogs is along the lines of "i gotz 2 get sum sleep cuz i have 2 do an anal scene 2morow lolZ! :D" or "this is 2 adress rumers i m hooking i never escorted & wont ever y wld i when i make 500 per seen, just wanned to clear that up k gota go!" So when I read Kayden's first post there, I was surprised to be reading an articulate, grammatically solid, and frankly, funny piece composed by a porn star. I'd never read a first-person account of what it's like to be a feature porn star that was so honest, engaging, and well-written (and Jenna Jameson's book does NOT count; trust that she was too busy getting facial implants and Restalyne injections to write that trash herself). I'd certainly never read any porn star write candidly about the experience of making it through the bathroom without slipping on "the perpetual enema juice" (GROSS) over at Vivid's production site.
Needless to say, Kayden Kross's writing piqued my interest and curiosity, and I've been following her posts since. So I was very excited to wake up this morning and moderate a comment from someone named "Kayden" on a post I wrote ages ago about Shelley Lubben, an ex-hooker/porn star/tweaker and current born-again Jesus freak/anti-porn crusader/self-righteous hypocrite. This Shelley Lubben post amuses me because, since I wrote it, a steady stream of comments have been trickling in, accusing me of being hateful, a porn addict, a bad Christian, and a hypocrite myself. In fact, this post continues to attract so many commenters that I even douchebagged the anonymous commenters who were hassling me about not being as sanctimonious as Ms. Lubben. Upon receiving a comment from someone named "Kayden," I thought to myself, "Could it be that Kayden Kross wrote this comment?" The comment was decidedly pro-porn, clearly articulated, and sounded Kayden Kross-y:
I personally witnessed the extent that Shelley will go to yesterday. She claims 90% of porn stars are on drugs. She claims 90% have STDs (oppostion brought in proof that these claims were entirely untrue). She claims there is no way a girl can actually be happy in porn or like what they do. She did all of this in front of a tax committee in support of a bill that would effectively kill the adult industry. I think she is just trying to make her job easier. If she takes away the option of doing porn she won't have to spend any time trying to convince girls that they are miserable sinners.
Then I went to mikesouth.com, only to see a post by Kayden Kross entitled "Shelley Lubben is a bitchcuntwhore and Calderon is a Political Stereotype," her take on a bill currently in California's state legislature which will tax the porn industry to death. Kayden does an excellent job pointing out that this bill is a shady attempt to circumvent rights to free speech, and addressing both misconceptions about the porn industry (all girls are on drugs, everyone has STDs, etc.) and skewering Shelley Lubben, who apparently put on quite the show for the Golden State's congress. I have come to the conclusion that indeed Kayden Kross left this comment. YES!
Whether or not this post has turned Kayden Kross into a Razzyphile, I don't know, but I'm nonetheless thrilled that the goddamned Joan Didion of porn bloggers decided to take a few moments to put her two cents on my comment pages. This is almost as great as the time the mighty Captain Sig Hansen of the F/V Northwestern called me his .1 fan on his MySpace page! I had better find an excuse to order more sex toys from Adam and Eve so I can get caught up on my Kayden Kross films, STAT.
Labels: Daily Dude I Want to Hit, down with OPB (other people's blogs), free fucking speech, hot chicks, porn, sluts
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Olympics protestors are dumb
Awhile back, I douchebagged "Free Tibet" activists, and this inspired several pissed-off comments going off about China's human rights record and accusing me of hypocrisy, based on the notion that if I'm all "Yay, free speech!" I shouldn't call for the censorship of "Free Tibet" losers. I'd like to clarify that I wasn't calling for their censorship. I was just saying that I reserve the right to declare their protests (ie: scaling the Golden Gate Bridge to hang a big "Free Tibet" sign) stupid and fucking pointless. The protestors can continue to think that they're doing something meaningful to make the Chinese government accountable for their shabby human rights record and occupation of Tibet by whining about the Olympics, and China can keep being like "uh, fuck you, and by the way, continue to enjoy all those cheap Chinese-made products you consume like they're going out of style." In other words, way to waste time, losers. Get a real job.
Validating my theory that these protestors are morons if they think that bitching about the Olympics is going to make any headway whatsoever about the way China handles its business is this person trying in vain to raise awareness of how bad those commies are:
Uh...you mean besides this time we allowed Nazi Germany to host the Olympics?
Last time I looked, the 1936 Summer Games were held in Berlin, and yes, that sure is a swastika-rocking Hitler heiling the torch at the opening ceremonies of the XI Olympiad. Throwing the Olympics in Nazi Germany didn't stop us from delivering a good, old-fashioned American ass-kicking (by that I mean protracted, extraordinarily costly war on multiple fronts) to the Nazis three years later when they invaded Poland.
I'm not going to pay attention to some mouth-breathing idiot telling me that not watching (the disturbingly Manning-esque) Michael Phelps swim all over the competition come summer is my duty as a decent human being, when said mouth-breathing idiot's arguments against China are based on a woefully inadequate education in world history. I don't look to ignorant tools to inform myself about important global political affairs. If you want to hate on China for hosting the Olympics, then I suggest cracking a fucking book before you start making insightful comparisons with other infamously genocidal tyrannical governments.
Labels: free fucking speech, fuck Tibet, international intrigue, Olympics, politics, ranting, retard rage, sportsmen, tyrannical rulers
Monday, April 14, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: John Stagliano
Alias: Buttman
DOB: November 29, 1951
Occupation: pornographer, inventor of the "gonzo" genre, owner of Evil Angel and Evil Empire productions
Hometown: Chicago, Illinois
Current residence: Porn Valley, Los Angeles, California
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: I actually have no interest in hitting John Stagliano, as he tested HIV positive in 1997. He's also older than my parents, and I'm not sure I want as much attention paid to my ass as his most famous fetish would dictate. However, I must salute him regardless. Last week, a federal grand jury indicted him on eight counts related to operating "an obscenity distribution business." He is facing over $3 million in fines and thirty years in prison. He's keeping his chin up, pleading not guilty, and hiring a dream team of First Amendment lawyers. I always get a little bit hot for people who give the finger to legal drama and fight for their right to free speech.
I read a lot of porn blogs. Not just blogs with free porn (okay, I read those too...well, maybe "read" isn't the right word, but you get the idea), but blogs about the porn industry. Mostly these blogs contain gossip about which porn stars are on drugs or difficult to work with or have STDs and/or are dumb, which porn stars hate each other, the stupid things porn stars do to prove that they hate each other (trash each other on their blogs, mostly), and which companies are going out of business. Sometimes, they have more serious stories about porn stars who have murdered people, committed suicide, or overdosed. And sometimes, they detail legal proceedings against adult businesses that have run afoul of obscenity laws. This week, they're all blowing up about the various issues John Stagliano's indictment raises. There's speculation that John Stagliano brought this upon himself by mocking the government during a dance montage he produced during this year's AVN awards, and pornographers should watch it. There's also some pessimistic bitching about how the porn community will be totally unsupportive of Stagliano, because pornographers are lazy and selfish. There are concerns that if the federal government can indict Stagliano, they can indict anyone. While Stagliano is known for making and distributing a lot of fetish-oriented movies, he's not making any faux kiddie-porn a la Max Hardcore. There are also some adult industry legal analysts theorizing that the government is trying to get the issue of obscenity and minor internet access to the Supreme Court while it's in its current ultra-conservative configuration.
I myself have to wonder exactly why, out of all the potentially obscene material on the internets, Stagliano was singled out. The specific videos considered "obscene" are Milk Nymphos, Storm Squirters 2: Target Practice, and a trailer for Belladonna's Fetish Fanatic 5. Apparently fluids squirting out of orifices are what renders these films obscene, and this mystifies me. While milk enemas may be gross and not something I get off watching or doing, I have seen these appear in movies not singled out as "obscene" by the feds. In fact, I believe that one of those movies is an earlier installment of the Belladonna's Fetish Fanatic series, and it features the titular Belladonna hugely pregnant and exchanging BREAST MILK enemas with her also pregnant costar. And breast milk enemas are the tip of the iceberg for Belladonna; she didn't win the FAME Award for "Dirtiest Girl in Porn" for nothing. All of Belladonna's movies are also distributed by Evil Angel; I guess the Department of Justice didn't watch the whole catalog when they were putting their case together.
The charge for the squirting movie is even more baffling. Female ejaculation is practically standard in most porn these days. If you search for "squirt" on RedTube or YouPorn, you'll pull up hundreds of different clips. In fact, Belladonna is a pro at this too, both in terms of doing it herself when confronted with a sexy foot and compelling her partners to do it. I think it's also sexist to say that female ejaculation is obscene when male ejaculation is the cornerstone of hardcore porn. When a man does it, it's a money shot, but when a woman does, it's "obscene." I don't understand why this is more offensive than this, unless it's because showing a woman having an apparently awesome, albeit extremely messy, orgasm like a man (sort of) offends the Department of Justice's misogynistic sensibilities.
John Stagliano is getting screwed harder than the asses of the porn stars in his Buttman movies. There is no reason why he should be prosecuted for supposed obscenity that practically every other pornographer in the entire world routinely produces. As a taxpayer, I'm pissed that while the economy is in the toilet and we're waging an unwinnable and horrendously expensive war, the Department of Justice is spending so much time and money trying to restrict free speech. If I weren't busy trying to get enough money together for my own free speech-related legal defense fund (more on that later), I'd donate to his. Free Buttman!
Labels: Daily Dude I Want to Hit, free fucking speech, porn
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Everything--including comments--in moderation
Some of you may have noticed that I have turned on comment moderation. Before any of my beloved Razzy Haters have anxiety attacks about my intention to censor their negative opinions of me, let me explain why I've done this. There is one commenter in particular who constantly posts comments that are completely off-topic from what I've written (as I've never written anything detailing an inexplicable and asinine blanket hatred of Muslims and black people) intended to divert traffic to his shiteous website.
Longtime Razzy readers can probably figure out who this fucktard is. He's a marginally literate ex-con I've douchebagged in the past for being a racist idiot, which changed the tone of his e-mails and comments to me from "I like ur site LOL" to accusing me of being a "slut" and a "cunt." While normally I don't give a shit what people write in the comments, I'm really annoyed that his pathetic ass gets no traffic and he keeps coming to my site, writing the same tired racial slurs ad nauseum, and linking to his site...because reading incoherent rants about Tookie Williams and Keith Olbermann and looking at pictures of his pencil dick are obviously of greater interest to my readers than anything I might compose.
I've been deleting his comments as soon as I get a notification that he posts one, but then he left the following comment last night and I had just had it:
i think i'm going to start leaving links to my far superior site on your site, everyday, at 3am. think of all the people who will read it before you get up and kick your way through the garbage and delete it, LOL.
If you want to learn how to host your own site i'll be more than happy to show you how. for a nominal fee of course.
all you have to do is let me shit on your face. we go to brooklyn maybe once a month so if you're interested in a professional website written in php, mysql, and flash we'll set up a time and you can come and see us on Brighton beach and 10th and let me shit on your face.
What say?
Well, as tempting as that offer of going to the far side of my most hated of boroughs, Brooklyn, to have my face shit on sounds, I have a counter-proposal. What say I teach YOU how to have a website that actually gets some traffic besides you and your three buddies from the Aryan Brotherhood with computer privileges at fucking Elmira? I actually went to his dumb site to pull a screen capture so you could all see what a phenomenal web designer this fucktard is, and thanks to his mad skills with php, mysql, and flash, a stat-tracker popped up to advise me that I was visit number 6054. That means it's the 6054th time someone loaded his home page for the entire life of his site. By contrast, I've had 13,884 page loads from 9,519 unique visitors this week alone. And while my site does a respectable amount of traffic for a personal blog, that's still not very much compared to a lot of other websites with a greater reach and a higher Google PageRank. So it seems that, in spite of his site's supposed superiority, it's not even a contest when it comes to the number of people who want to read my site versus those who want to read his. I'd be happy to teach him how to author a site that people not from his white power prison gang actually want to read, for a nominal fee, of course.
And speaking of his prowess at webmastery, I think that the jury is still out on whether his skills are "far superior" to mine. I'll be the first to admit that I suck at computery stuff, but I'm sure I could learn if I cared. Sure, RAZZY.org's (woefully neglected) home page is what IvyGate charitably called "internet 1.0," but nobody is here to see what a fabulous design template I can create. My website is all about useless bullshit, a subject matter that hardly implies aptitude concerning the technical ins and outs of publishing for the internets. Somehow, however, I think that with a copy of Web Design for Dummies I could come up with something at least as good as the mind-blowingly sophisticated home page this asshole has developed for his waste of bandwidth:
Yeah, that's definitely WAY better than my site. I'd pay top dollar to learn how to make something as professional and sophisticated as this. Man, RAZZY.org looks like something designed by a shit-throwing Rhesus macaque in comparison.
My opinion on what is "far superior" is obviously biased and subjective, so if you wish to judge for yourself, why not compare the tits available on RAZZY.org versus the tits available on his site (his stank mail-order bride's feedbags)? If you had to choose, which set of sweater puppies would you rather motorboat?
From his site:
From my site:
Even the Haters who routinely call me fat and ugly probably would take me without even thinking twice.
And speaking of his prowess at webmastery, I think that the jury is still out on whether his skills are "far superior" to mine. I'll be the first to admit that I suck at computery stuff, but I'm sure I could learn if I cared. Sure, RAZZY.org's (woefully neglected) home page is what IvyGate charitably called "internet 1.0," but nobody is here to see what a fabulous design template I can create. My website is all about useless bullshit, a subject matter that hardly implies aptitude concerning the technical ins and outs of publishing for the internets. Somehow, however, I think that with a copy of Web Design for Dummies I could come up with something at least as good as the mind-blowingly sophisticated home page this asshole has developed for his waste of bandwidth:
My opinion on what is "far superior" is obviously biased and subjective, so if you wish to judge for yourself, why not compare the tits available on RAZZY.org versus the tits available on his site (his stank mail-order bride's feedbags)? If you had to choose, which set of sweater puppies would you rather motorboat?
From his site:
From my site:
Even the Haters who routinely call me fat and ugly probably would take me without even thinking twice.Anyway, as a result of all this annoyance, I went ahead and turned on comment moderation so this loser parasite won't interrupt the flow of people alternately praising me and suggesting that I'm a hideous, withered old hag with a flabby body, a totally busted face, and a pathetic need for attention from anonymous commenters. I figure that since I'm not turning moderation off until he goes away and I am not going to mention him ever again after this post, he'll eventually go find someone else's website to hassle with his inane attempts at self-promotion, if he doesn't wind up back in prison or forget to pay his electrical bill first. I may be too dumb to figure out how to ban IP addresses (and that's actually not the case, I'm just too lazy...a really condescending guy from tech support at my hosting company instructed me on how to do so a while back when the general of the Tej Offensive was trying to get me raped via Craigslist casual encounters ads for busting on Smith girls), but I can certainly easily go to Blogger and select the "enable comment moderation" option. Looks like I've got the last LOL.
So, that's why I have to approve all your comments for the time being. Never fear, I'll still be happy to publish any and all the fat/ugly/slut/lunatic/moron/attention whore comments (and obviously the "Razzy, you are a fucking GOD!"-type comments too). I generally welcome free speech and encourage everyone to share what's on their mind regardless of whether it's complimentary to me or not. So long as you aren't linking to this asshole's site, rest assured that you can wish AIDS on me to your heart's content. Besides, I'm told that moderation is a good thing with regard to sweet, sweet alcohol, so maybe the same is true with anonymous blog commentary.
Labels: computer incompetence, excuses, free fucking speech, internet domination, Razzy Haters
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: my soon-to-be lawyer
Name: TBD
DOB: TBD
Occupation: barristry, awesomeness
Hometown: TBD
Current residence: New York, New York
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: It's only Tuesday, but it's already been a brisk week here in the RAZZY.org legal department (and by "legal department" I mean my friend HotLawyer). I'm not going to really talk about what's going on right now, except to say that I'm not surprised that an abusive, misogynistic bastard has turned to the legal system as a means of further harassing me. I thus intend to lawyer up myself and let the professionals handle it. So does anyone know a good attorney on the fair isle of Mannahattas who knows a lot about defamation law? Holler at your girl.
DOB: TBD
Occupation: barristry, awesomeness
Hometown: TBD
Current residence: New York, New York
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: It's only Tuesday, but it's already been a brisk week here in the RAZZY.org legal department (and by "legal department" I mean my friend HotLawyer). I'm not going to really talk about what's going on right now, except to say that I'm not surprised that an abusive, misogynistic bastard has turned to the legal system as a means of further harassing me. I thus intend to lawyer up myself and let the professionals handle it. So does anyone know a good attorney on the fair isle of Mannahattas who knows a lot about defamation law? Holler at your girl.
Labels: assholes, Daily Dude I Want to Hit, free fucking speech, grad school bullshit, legal drama, overcompensation, Razzy Haters, sexual assault
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
But George W. Bush IS a...
Not that I give a flying underwater scissor-style fuck about what Whoopi Goldberg says or does, because she annoys me and because Hell will look like the vast and tempestuous Bering Sea halfway to freaking Kamchatka in January before I pay much attention to anyone affiliated with the travesty known as "The View," but apparently she's in trouble because last year she called George W. Bush a cunt. Well she actually didn't even drop the big "C-word" that everyone seems to find so offensive. She just made the obvious vagina joke about Bush's last name and said something like "keep Bush where it belongs and out of the White House." This was all in support of John (LOSER) Kerry's pathetic attempt at obfuscating his way into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. For some reason, Whoopi is now getting heat for calling President Bush a cunt, and she's quick to remind everyone that she just made a play on his last name, and never uttered the dreaded "C U Next Tuesday."
Girls go crazy when you say "cunt"...except me, that is. I don't think "cunt" is all that bad of a word. It's just a synonym for vagina, so why is it any worse than "cooze" or "poon"? I actually think it has more zing old standbys like "pussy" and "twat," and I'll use it any day over lame cutesy euphemisms like "vajayjay." Frankly, there's other words (ie: "gash") that I think conjure up much grosser and more repugnant associations. But for some reason, it's been universally accepted that "cunt" is probably the worst thing you can call a woman. If you're a little pissed, you call a woman a bitch. If you're furious and want to establish that your ire is NO JOKE, you drop a c-bomb on that ho. That's like declaring a fucking blood feud. On those grounds, I don't understand why an avowed Bush-hater like Whoopi is saying, "Oh, I didn't call him a CUNT. I pointed out to the mentally slow, self-righteous rich assholes attending some lame Murder, DNC (what some of my wonk friends called their employer, the Democratic National Committee, circa 2003) $1000-a-plate fundraising dinner for Kerry that his name doubles as a coarse slang term for vagina. THAT'S VERY DIFFERENT! Calling the president a cunt would be SOOOOO INAPPROPRIATE. That would mean business. You know it's a joke because I just called him a Bush! Which he is! LOL! Watch more pointless discussion about my not using the c-word on 'The View.'"
Well, he's also a cunt. And if Whoopi doesn't have the stones to go there, lucky for everyone I do.
GEORGE W. BUSH IS A CUNT.
That said, vote libertarian.
Girls go crazy when you say "cunt"...except me, that is. I don't think "cunt" is all that bad of a word. It's just a synonym for vagina, so why is it any worse than "cooze" or "poon"? I actually think it has more zing old standbys like "pussy" and "twat," and I'll use it any day over lame cutesy euphemisms like "vajayjay." Frankly, there's other words (ie: "gash") that I think conjure up much grosser and more repugnant associations. But for some reason, it's been universally accepted that "cunt" is probably the worst thing you can call a woman. If you're a little pissed, you call a woman a bitch. If you're furious and want to establish that your ire is NO JOKE, you drop a c-bomb on that ho. That's like declaring a fucking blood feud. On those grounds, I don't understand why an avowed Bush-hater like Whoopi is saying, "Oh, I didn't call him a CUNT. I pointed out to the mentally slow, self-righteous rich assholes attending some lame Murder, DNC (what some of my wonk friends called their employer, the Democratic National Committee, circa 2003) $1000-a-plate fundraising dinner for Kerry that his name doubles as a coarse slang term for vagina. THAT'S VERY DIFFERENT! Calling the president a cunt would be SOOOOO INAPPROPRIATE. That would mean business. You know it's a joke because I just called him a Bush! Which he is! LOL! Watch more pointless discussion about my not using the c-word on 'The View.'"
Well, he's also a cunt. And if Whoopi doesn't have the stones to go there, lucky for everyone I do.
GEORGE W. BUSH IS A CUNT.
That said, vote libertarian.
Labels: celebrities, free fucking speech, intentional buffoonery, libertarians rule, overcompensation, politics, stank vaginas
Monday, November 12, 2007
$hort Dog on Dog
While catching up on celebrity gossip occurring while I was on my deathbed, I was pleased to see that the incomparable Todd "Too $hort" Shaw, looking as dapper as always, took a breather from breakin' hoes, gettin' head, and otherwise dominating the East Bay's player-ass pimp scene to tell TMZ his thoughts on Duane "Dog" Chapman's career-ending racial tirade. In case you missed it, Chapman, star of the now-canceled "Dog the Bounty Hunter," went off on a "n-word"-laden rant about his son's black girlfriend. The son taped this rant, and sent it off to the National Enquirer. In spite of Dog coming up with some of the lamest excuses EVER ("I thought I was black because people called me white trash"...WHAT?) to cover his ass, A&E said "aloha" to him, his corpulent wife Beth, and his cadre of redneck Polynesian cousins and offspring who assist him in his bounty hunting and bail bond business. Never again will the American viewing audience get to see Beth clutching a pustule-covered meth addict prostitute who skipped on a $500 bond to her gargantuan breasts and praying for her well-being outside the Da Kine Bail Bonds office.
Too $hort does understand how offensive statements can be taken out of context, though, and I was surprised to see that he handled this with the diplomatic skill of the man employed in the oldest profession for going on twenty years. This is a man, after all, who once said chivalrous things like, "I know you're starvin', bitch, what you gon' eat? Just cause I picked you up I guess you waitin' on me. It ain't gonna be that, you shoulda ate or bought your ass a plate, cause on this date we just fuckin' till it's late." In fact, if you want to see some real tact in terms of interpersonal relations and the art of negotiation, you should just look up all the lyrics to "Coming Up $hort" and witness a master of political correctness working his magic.
Anyway, I can't embed the footage of Too $hort talking about Dog because TMZ is hardcore about hoarding their precious videos, so you'll have to click on this link and suffer through an annoying Pantene commercial before you can witness the legendary Mr. Shaw discussing Dog's mishaps, but it's worth it. Too $hort is a fucking font of wisdom.
"Gay bashin' and racial hatin' and all that stuff...it's just not good times for that in the media right now." You can say that again. Luckily for $hort Dog, there has yet to be a media backlash against calling a prostitute (or any woman, for that matter) a "beeyotch" if she gets out of line!
Too $hort continues, "It's like the word bitch or the word fuck...it has several meanings, one can be really, really negative and the other can be really, really positive. I fuckin' hate you or I fuckin' love you, you know." Is it possible for Too $hort to use the word "bitch" in a negative way? Because his career is built almost entirely on his distinctive use of that word, and I would say that any simple word which makes a man millions of dollars, earns him a spot as a mentor on "Celebrity Rap Superstar," and establishes him as THE quintessential East Oakland player-ass pimp is entirely positive.
While Too $hort does note that in Dog's case, "it was very derogatory the way he was spittin' that word out...REPEATEDLY," he says he isn't all that offended because it was just "hateful jokes" and "because I throw the word 'hoes' around a lot myself." And "beeyotch," and the "N-word", and "fuck," and virtually every other profanity one can imagine. Way not to throw stones, $hort Dog!
Can I just take a minute to say how awesome it is that Too $hort is popping up all over MTV and the internets these days? I hadn't heard so much as a feeble "beeyotch" out of him in the last five years, and all of a sudden he's teaching Girl Next Door #3 "oral exercises" and opining on F-list reality show stars' media gaffes! I have newfound faith in humanity. First, it seems that this year everyone and their mother finally realized how fucking unbelievably awesome Robert Sylvester Kelly is, and now they're rediscovering Too $hort as well. If this keeps up, I see civilization entering a damn Golden Age. Seriously, this blossoming appreciation for true art makes all those Renaissance dudes look like a bunch of posing, pathetic hacks. Leonardo, Michaelangelo, and all those other Ninja Turtle namesakes can open wide, because Too $hort is about to stick his dick in their talentless mouths! There is hope for our world yet.
Anyway, I can't embed the footage of Too $hort talking about Dog because TMZ is hardcore about hoarding their precious videos, so you'll have to click on this link and suffer through an annoying Pantene commercial before you can witness the legendary Mr. Shaw discussing Dog's mishaps, but it's worth it. Too $hort is a fucking font of wisdom.
"Gay bashin' and racial hatin' and all that stuff...it's just not good times for that in the media right now." You can say that again. Luckily for $hort Dog, there has yet to be a media backlash against calling a prostitute (or any woman, for that matter) a "beeyotch" if she gets out of line!
Too $hort continues, "It's like the word bitch or the word fuck...it has several meanings, one can be really, really negative and the other can be really, really positive. I fuckin' hate you or I fuckin' love you, you know." Is it possible for Too $hort to use the word "bitch" in a negative way? Because his career is built almost entirely on his distinctive use of that word, and I would say that any simple word which makes a man millions of dollars, earns him a spot as a mentor on "Celebrity Rap Superstar," and establishes him as THE quintessential East Oakland player-ass pimp is entirely positive.
While Too $hort does note that in Dog's case, "it was very derogatory the way he was spittin' that word out...REPEATEDLY," he says he isn't all that offended because it was just "hateful jokes" and "because I throw the word 'hoes' around a lot myself." And "beeyotch," and the "N-word", and "fuck," and virtually every other profanity one can imagine. Way not to throw stones, $hort Dog!
Can I just take a minute to say how awesome it is that Too $hort is popping up all over MTV and the internets these days? I hadn't heard so much as a feeble "beeyotch" out of him in the last five years, and all of a sudden he's teaching Girl Next Door #3 "oral exercises" and opining on F-list reality show stars' media gaffes! I have newfound faith in humanity. First, it seems that this year everyone and their mother finally realized how fucking unbelievably awesome Robert Sylvester Kelly is, and now they're rediscovering Too $hort as well. If this keeps up, I see civilization entering a damn Golden Age. Seriously, this blossoming appreciation for true art makes all those Renaissance dudes look like a bunch of posing, pathetic hacks. Leonardo, Michaelangelo, and all those other Ninja Turtle namesakes can open wide, because Too $hort is about to stick his dick in their talentless mouths! There is hope for our world yet.
Labels: celebrities, free fucking speech, intentional buffoonery, rap, Robert Sylvester Kelly, Too $hort, TV
Monday, September 24, 2007
Daily Douchebag: Lee C. Bollinger
DOB: ???, but he's old and pretty busted...I wouldn't hit that mess
Occupation: lawyer, president of Columbia University
Hometown: Santa Rosa, California
Current residence: somewhere Morningside Heights-ish in New York City (he used to always be the next on the list for my Fresh Direct deliveries when I lived on 125th Street)
Douchebaggery: All of New York City is in an uproar because Bollinger invited Mahmoud Ahmedinejad, crazy, Members Only jacket-loving president of the Islamic Republic of Iran, to visit Columbia. Politicians have denounced it, half the city is protesting, every morally righteous blowhard at Columbia and Barnard has his or her panties in a twist, and, more importantly, the tabloids have been having a field day for the past week. Surprisingly, the greatest paper ever, the New York Post decided to take a break from Ahmedinejad Madness on the cover, but I'm sure they'll be chiming in tomorrow when he decides to visit Ground Zero even though Mayor Bloomberg told him to suck it when he asked for an official tour. Luckily, the Daily News isn't tired of busting on Columbia's invitation (or "invitation" as the Daily News puts it, as presumably the quotes means that something far more sinister than a friendly world leaders forum is going on):
Good thing some pissed-off people saved their Post covers from last week to turn into the awesomest protest signs EVER:
Anyway, apparently I don't take myself or my belief that Ahmedinejad is a crackpot seriously enough, so everyone else is protesting, which I considered doing only to provide some comic relief. I figured that running into the forum topless and wearing my strap-on would do the trick. I totally saw Not Without My Daughter, and even though Sally Field never did exactly that (I'm pretty sure that scene got cut out of the part where she escapes with her daughter through snowy, terrorist-filled mountains to Turkey, which is a shame), the movie led me to believe that those Iranian Shiite fundamentalists get bent WAY out of shape whenever women expose any flesh or betray any hint of empowered sexuality. Unfortunately, unlike these lazy fucks with nothing better to do than whip themselves up into a frenzy of sanctimonious anger and march around campus all day expressing this via chanting and posterboard signs, I have a full day in lab, I can't go down to the main campus and try to fuck with Ahmedinejad in the fashion I would prefer. It's just as well, because Bollinger has enough drama on his hands, which brings me to why he's my Douchebag of the Day.
I would normally applaud Lee Bollinger for courting controversy and, like the First Amendment-defending lawyer he once was, pointing out that sometimes living in a free society means listening to people who are offensive assholes like Ahmedinejad even though you don't like their message or agree with it. However, while having Ahmedinejad here in the first place and then defending it in spite of almost universal condemnation was a bold move that I applaud, today I opened my inbox to find that under it all, Bollinger is a true tool of a college administrator at the end of the day. I'll translate this pussified, hey-everyone-settle-down e-mail for you since, as president of the Science Geek grad students and having been in schools filled with administrators like these for the past 20 years, I'm fluent in bureaucratic mumbo jumbo:
From: Lee C. Bollinger (officeofthepresident@columbia.edu)
To: everyone at Columbia including razzy@razzy.org
Subject: Thoughts on Today's Forum
Dear fellow members of the Columbia community:
I would like to share a few thoughts about today’s appearance of President Ahmadinejad at our World Leaders Forum. I know this is a matter of deep concern for many in our University community and beyond. I want to say first and foremost how proud I am of Columbia, especially our students, as we discuss, debate and plan for this highly visible event.
TRANSLATION: I read the Post, people, and TRUST that I've gotten all the online petitions you all so zealously filled out, so I know you're all pissed. Now just simmer down, so I can compliment you for being royal pains in my ass from a PR point of view.
I ask that each of us make special efforts to respect the different views people have about the event and to recognize the different ways it affects members of our community. For many reasons, this will demand the best of each of us to live up to the best of Columbia's traditions.
TRANSLATION: Don't bust this shit up like you did the fucking panel discussion with those Minutemen border patrol vigilantes a few months back. That shit was on the news for a week! You have no idea how much spin doctory I had to pull on that one. All I have to say is, thank God I'm a lawyer and I bust out some persuasion when need be.
For the School of International and Public Affairs, which developed the idea for this forum as the commencement to a year-long examination of 30 years of the Islamic Republic in Iran, this is an important educational experience for training future leaders to confront the world as it is -- a world that includes far too many brutal, anti-democratic and repressive regimes. For the rest of us, this occasion is not only about the speaker but quite centrally about us -- about who we are as a nation and what universities can be in our society.
TRANSLATION: Hey, assholes! Censorship is what they do in Iran, you dumbasses. And this is for a class. A CLASS, people! If you don't like International and Public Affairs, then major in math or art or something.
I would like just to repeat what I have said earlier: It is vitally important for a university to protect the right of our schools, our deans and our faculty to create programming for academic purposes. Necessarily, on occasion this will bring us into contact with beliefs many, most, or even all of us will find offensive and even odious.
TRANSLATION: Again, you retards, did I mention this was for a CLASS? Just because you losers don't like doing integrals doesn't mean we're taking that out of our calculus classes. Just deal with the fact that homeboy is the president of Iran, so who better to be a guest speaker for Iran class? I'm just sayin'...
But it should never be thought that merely to listen to ideas we deplore in any way implies our endorsement of those ideas, or the weakness of our resolve to resist those ideas, or our naiveté about the very real dangers inherent in such ideas. It is a critical premise of freedom of speech that we do not honor the dishonorable when we open the public forum to their voices.
TRANSLATION: Now it's time to use some vague civil liberties-related blah blah blah to remind you that you're all being a bunch of free speech-suppressing losers. Who's like Hitler now? OH, SNAP!
The great majority of student leaders with whom I met last week affirmed their belief that this event, however controversial, is consistent with the values of academic freedom we share at the center of university life. I fully support, indeed I celebrate, the right to peacefully demonstrate and engage in a dialogue about this event and this speaker, as I understand a wide coalition of our student groups are planning for today. That such a forum and such public criticism of President Ahmadinejad’s statements and policies could not safely take place on a university campus in Iran today sharpens the point of what we do here. The kind of freedom that will be on display at Columbia has always been and remains today our nation’s most potent weapon against repressive regimes everywhere in the world. This is the power and example of America at its best.
TRANSLATION: Don't get violent. And for the love of God, quit complaining to the Post about me; I'm a better American than you are. You dumb bitches all just got OWNED! You better ax somebody."
Sincerely,
Lee C. Bollinger
I would have a lot more respect for Lee Bollinger if he just flipped up his middle fingers to everyone and shouted a resounding "FUCK YOU ALL, I'M RUNNING THIS BITCH!" instead of sending this long, boring I'm-proud-of-you and America-is-great letter to everyone. And I'd also have a lot more respect for him if he was honest about meeting with "student leaders." I never got an invitation to that and like I said, I'm the motherfucking student prez of the nerds on the medical center campus! Why wasn't I fucking consulted about Ahmedinejad? My opinion would have obviously been of great importance to the planning and orchestration of this event, and it was a SERIOUS oversight on Bollinger's part that he forgot about it and just sent me the same bullshit e-mail that he sent to the rest of the nerds whom I benevolently rule ("rule"=provide beer, pizza, and discounted movie tickets to). Clearly, not only is Bollinger unattractive and unable to admit what's really on his mind, but he's incompetent as well. Fool.
Labels: correspondence, Daily Douchebag, free fucking speech, grad school bullshit, large exclamatory font, NYC, politics, tyrannical rulers, United States of Asskickery
Sunday, July 01, 2007
I keep the LIRR interesting
One problem I have is my extremely distinctive speaking voice. Not only does my voice have a singular cadence and tone, but it carries long distances. This doesn't bother me, because I don't really care if people hear my conversations or not. Because of my tendency to use profanity frequently and fluently (especially various permutations of the word "fuck") others have tried (unsuccessfully) to quiet me down. This happens most often in the P-N-Dub, where people are quieter and not as accustomed to hearing random obscenities as people in New York. Last time I was home, chatting merrily away with Morrissey'sHair and Sexxica about dick, and Morrissey'sHair was like, "Razzy, take it down a few decibels! You can't just shout about blowjobs!" HotLawyer shushes me every time I'm out with him no matter where we are to the point that on several occasionsI've responded with "Okay, fine, DAD!" I was having lunch one time at some random Puyallup Mexican restaurant with MillerTime and she had to say, "Razzy! Lay off the 'fuck this' and 'fuck that', there are old ladies and children over there! This is a family establishment!" While most of the people who freak about my language are back in the 253 area code, it does happen once and awhile in New York, and lately seems to be mostly associated with travel on the Long Island Rail Road.
Several weekends ago, J-Sexy and I were actually shushed by a stranger on the LIRR on our way back from Fire Island while we were animatedly making plans to go strap-on shopping (I'm embracing my newly remembered bisexuality and J-Sexy is into pegging dudes). Since we had spent the day sitting in the sun and consuming an entire bottle of Puerto Rican rum mixed with Hawaiian Punch, I was in no mood to be addressed in such a condescending, motherly manner by some stringy old broad who appointed herself the LIRR speech police. I said very loudly that I would talk about strap-ons whenever and wherever I fucking pleased, and no shrew-ass bitch was going to take away my constitutional right to discuss sex toys or any other subject matter. The lady just quietly muttered to her husband about how awful we were and then sullenly would glare our way from time to time until we got to Penn Station. Sticks and stones may break my bones, hooker, but reproachful looks will never hurt me (or shut me up).
Yesterday, a similar incident occurred as I went to the beach with my friend Rack and her boyfriend TheOldGuy. TheOldGuy, who is a cable news producer, was telling us about how he worked with a woman who produces a recurring special on MSNBC about transgendered persons. Rack then cut in to say that one of the persons being profiled for the show was some pre-op F2M tranny from Raleigh, NC (her hometown), and this person was planning to go by "Rack" after her reassignment surgery. "It's not like there's that many lezzies in Raleigh!" she fumed (Rack used to be a lot more girl-on-girl inclined). "The trashy sonofabitch probably met me back when he was only out as a garden variety butch dyke and stole my goddamn name! I'm sure of it! I bet he went to Smith too!" During this whole soliloquy, this floppy old woman was eagerly listening in. She practically had her hand cupped around her ear to hear better. We weren't paying much attention to her.
Then, TheOldGuy mentioned that this producer of the tranny show was having all sorts of problems with her sick husband. He said that the husband was in the hospital with some sort of mystery infection and wondered if it had something to do with their child's recent bout with scarlet fever. I said that his symptoms sounded more viral to me. Scarlet fever is caused by a bacteria called Streptococcus pyogenes, and in adults this usually causes strep throat or occasionally necrotizing fascitis, better known as "flesh-eating" bacteria. Then I started telling a story about this woman I used to work with who had contracted flesh-eating bacteria through an infected hair follicle on her labia, and ultimately had pounds of gangrenous flesh removed from her abdomen and thighs. At this point, the floppy old butted in and said, "Excuse me, can you change the subject? Your conversations is not very pleasant." I said something like, "Yeah, okay, whatever" and proceeded to continue talking about it. If the nosy, interfering twat doesn't like my conversation, then instead of asking me to switch topics she should mind her own damn business and STOP FUCKING EAVESDROPPING!
Apart from a few dirty looks from her and her equally disapproving friend (who resembled the mummified corpse of Hatshepsut rocking a fugly flowered tank top and a crappy, ineffective Nice'n'Easy gray-covering dye job), we had an uneventful remainder of our trip to Long Beach with no further disturbances from any overstepping hooker-ass prostitutes. At the beach we spent the day swimming, sunning, and swilling beer. Apart from Rack spraining her ankle, we had a capital time. In spite of being a little tired out after the beach, I was nonetheless capable of talking loudly on the train back. Fortunately, the crowd on this train was far more appreciative of my conversational talents.
Somehow Rack and I got to discussing R. Kelly and his supreme awesomeness. I was clarifying why he's fully deserving of the lofty title of "the king of R&B," and it's not just because he's black, handsome, he sings, plus he's rich and he's a flirt. I was arguing that R&B would indeed be in dire straits without the R-uh's superior lyrical abilities. I was going off about memorable lyrics in various classic Kells tunes, such as "You Remind Me of Something" ("you remind me of my jeep, I want to ride"), "Don't You Say No" ("I ain't spendin' no cash if you ain't spendin' that ass","you say you want first-class trips, well I want to work those first-class hips"), and "R&B Thug" ("Oooh, Kelly, you make me holla, keep on jumpin' like an Impala"). Rack was riveted. Then we began discussing the styling choices in the "Feelin' On Yo Booty" video, in which Robert Sylvester rocks a ridiculous, asymmetrical half-corn-row/half-afro puff hairstyle and let's Lil' Kim and her REALLY busted blonde weave grind all up on him. Then Rack asked about "Trapped In the Closet," and I explained that it was R-dot's brilliant attempt at musical urban soap operatic film noir. I then began summing up the TITC storyline, providing the entire train with entertainment for the remainder of the trip. When I got to the end of chapter 5, where R. Kelly's character Sylvester throws his suspiciously exuberant wife off his dick, pulls back the bedcovers, and finds the used condom left from her adulterous tryst with the chain-smoking cop that pulled him over on his way home, I paused. This prompted someone several rows of seats back on the train to call, "Is that the end? Please finish the story!"
I obliged. Occasionally there would be a crowd reaction to statements such as "and now, thankfully, I know that a gun is a much more effective weapon than a spatula" and "I think it's generally a bad idea to assume that R. Kelly would graciously accept being cuckolded," but I was typically oblivious to the fact that I was commanding everyone's undividing attention. By the time I'd summarized all twelve chapters and got to the, "then Kells whips out his trusty Beretta and the midget literally shits his pants in terror", there was laughter from eavesdroppers all around us. Once I concluded the thrilling tale, several rows of passengers applauded me for my storytelling prowess. "Dude, they're clapping for you, Razzy!" Rack said. Up until this point, I was unaware that everyone had been paying such close attention, but I was relieved to get an ovation instead of a lecture or a pointedly bitchy look. In the future, people listening to my booming voice should consider themselves lucky to get a free performance.
And since you surely are now intrigued, here are chapters 1-5 of Trapped In the Closet, just because Robert Sylvester Kelly is the dope shit:
Several weekends ago, J-Sexy and I were actually shushed by a stranger on the LIRR on our way back from Fire Island while we were animatedly making plans to go strap-on shopping (I'm embracing my newly remembered bisexuality and J-Sexy is into pegging dudes). Since we had spent the day sitting in the sun and consuming an entire bottle of Puerto Rican rum mixed with Hawaiian Punch, I was in no mood to be addressed in such a condescending, motherly manner by some stringy old broad who appointed herself the LIRR speech police. I said very loudly that I would talk about strap-ons whenever and wherever I fucking pleased, and no shrew-ass bitch was going to take away my constitutional right to discuss sex toys or any other subject matter. The lady just quietly muttered to her husband about how awful we were and then sullenly would glare our way from time to time until we got to Penn Station. Sticks and stones may break my bones, hooker, but reproachful looks will never hurt me (or shut me up).
Yesterday, a similar incident occurred as I went to the beach with my friend Rack and her boyfriend TheOldGuy. TheOldGuy, who is a cable news producer, was telling us about how he worked with a woman who produces a recurring special on MSNBC about transgendered persons. Rack then cut in to say that one of the persons being profiled for the show was some pre-op F2M tranny from Raleigh, NC (her hometown), and this person was planning to go by "Rack" after her reassignment surgery. "It's not like there's that many lezzies in Raleigh!" she fumed (Rack used to be a lot more girl-on-girl inclined). "The trashy sonofabitch probably met me back when he was only out as a garden variety butch dyke and stole my goddamn name! I'm sure of it! I bet he went to Smith too!" During this whole soliloquy, this floppy old woman was eagerly listening in. She practically had her hand cupped around her ear to hear better. We weren't paying much attention to her.
Then, TheOldGuy mentioned that this producer of the tranny show was having all sorts of problems with her sick husband. He said that the husband was in the hospital with some sort of mystery infection and wondered if it had something to do with their child's recent bout with scarlet fever. I said that his symptoms sounded more viral to me. Scarlet fever is caused by a bacteria called Streptococcus pyogenes, and in adults this usually causes strep throat or occasionally necrotizing fascitis, better known as "flesh-eating" bacteria. Then I started telling a story about this woman I used to work with who had contracted flesh-eating bacteria through an infected hair follicle on her labia, and ultimately had pounds of gangrenous flesh removed from her abdomen and thighs. At this point, the floppy old butted in and said, "Excuse me, can you change the subject? Your conversations is not very pleasant." I said something like, "Yeah, okay, whatever" and proceeded to continue talking about it. If the nosy, interfering twat doesn't like my conversation, then instead of asking me to switch topics she should mind her own damn business and STOP FUCKING EAVESDROPPING!
Apart from a few dirty looks from her and her equally disapproving friend (who resembled the mummified corpse of Hatshepsut rocking a fugly flowered tank top and a crappy, ineffective Nice'n'Easy gray-covering dye job), we had an uneventful remainder of our trip to Long Beach with no further disturbances from any overstepping hooker-ass prostitutes. At the beach we spent the day swimming, sunning, and swilling beer. Apart from Rack spraining her ankle, we had a capital time. In spite of being a little tired out after the beach, I was nonetheless capable of talking loudly on the train back. Fortunately, the crowd on this train was far more appreciative of my conversational talents.
Somehow Rack and I got to discussing R. Kelly and his supreme awesomeness. I was clarifying why he's fully deserving of the lofty title of "the king of R&B," and it's not just because he's black, handsome, he sings, plus he's rich and he's a flirt. I was arguing that R&B would indeed be in dire straits without the R-uh's superior lyrical abilities. I was going off about memorable lyrics in various classic Kells tunes, such as "You Remind Me of Something" ("you remind me of my jeep, I want to ride"), "Don't You Say No" ("I ain't spendin' no cash if you ain't spendin' that ass","you say you want first-class trips, well I want to work those first-class hips"), and "R&B Thug" ("Oooh, Kelly, you make me holla, keep on jumpin' like an Impala"). Rack was riveted. Then we began discussing the styling choices in the "Feelin' On Yo Booty" video, in which Robert Sylvester rocks a ridiculous, asymmetrical half-corn-row/half-afro puff hairstyle and let's Lil' Kim and her REALLY busted blonde weave grind all up on him. Then Rack asked about "Trapped In the Closet," and I explained that it was R-dot's brilliant attempt at musical urban soap operatic film noir. I then began summing up the TITC storyline, providing the entire train with entertainment for the remainder of the trip. When I got to the end of chapter 5, where R. Kelly's character Sylvester throws his suspiciously exuberant wife off his dick, pulls back the bedcovers, and finds the used condom left from her adulterous tryst with the chain-smoking cop that pulled him over on his way home, I paused. This prompted someone several rows of seats back on the train to call, "Is that the end? Please finish the story!"
I obliged. Occasionally there would be a crowd reaction to statements such as "and now, thankfully, I know that a gun is a much more effective weapon than a spatula" and "I think it's generally a bad idea to assume that R. Kelly would graciously accept being cuckolded," but I was typically oblivious to the fact that I was commanding everyone's undividing attention. By the time I'd summarized all twelve chapters and got to the, "then Kells whips out his trusty Beretta and the midget literally shits his pants in terror", there was laughter from eavesdroppers all around us. Once I concluded the thrilling tale, several rows of passengers applauded me for my storytelling prowess. "Dude, they're clapping for you, Razzy!" Rack said. Up until this point, I was unaware that everyone had been paying such close attention, but I was relieved to get an ovation instead of a lecture or a pointedly bitchy look. In the future, people listening to my booming voice should consider themselves lucky to get a free performance.
And since you surely are now intrigued, here are chapters 1-5 of Trapped In the Closet, just because Robert Sylvester Kelly is the dope shit:
Labels: assholes, defiance, free fucking speech, intentional buffoonery, MTA, NYC, Rack, Razzification, Robert Sylvester Kelly
Monday, May 28, 2007
Alexyss K. Tylor is the greatest woman who ever lived
In the course of my internet wanderings, I found out about what may be the most awesome thing ever to grace Public Access cable. It's even more awesome than the Robyn Byrd Show here in Nueva York, which is basically free stripping and porn in the form of 900 number ads. Robyn Byrd, however, is busted, and most of the strippers she has on the show look like they're well past what should be a mandatory retirement age for those who make a professional living dropping trou. All the chicks have these hideous tit jobs that look like they had NFL regulation footballs shoved under their pectoral muscles, and the gay male strippers look like their noses have been exposed to one too many nitrate poppers. They had this chick in there the other night who looked like she was about 50, and who I seriously thought was a man until she showed her cooch. If she was an M2F tranny, she had a killer surgeon, but she should have had them touch up her face while she was in the O.R., because I cannot imagine wanting a lap dance from that hot mess. However, nasty strippers aside, I've always liked Robyn Byrd. In spite of her being hideously ugly, she's got a lot of spunk (no pun intended) and she's battled extensively for her right to show all sorts of titties, weiners, and trannies on Public Access, and I love bitches who give censorship the finger, take the prudish assholes to court, and win. Yay, free speech!
Anyway, I forgot all about any redeeming qualities Robyn Byrd might have to offer when the internets introduced me to Alexyss K. Tylor. This woman hosts a public access show in Atlanta, in which she preaches the gospel of "Vagina Power," and encourages women not to get "dickmatized" by men and their nefarious "penis power." A sample of a typical Alexyss K. Tylor kernel of wisdom:
In her most recent installment, Alexyss takes issue with the fact that she's received correspondence criticizing the way she talks. After a ten minute soliloquy about how she talks like a woman from Bankhead (like T.I.!) and how it's perfectly natural to use words like "dick" and "pussy" and "asshole," she contrasts herself with an educated professor at Spelman College who was caught exposing himself and presumably masturbating in front of another man in the bathroom at some regional airport, and asks who the REAL villain is. Is it her, for being uneducated and speaking in her snappy ghetto dialect, or is it this educated man who "is a professor by day and a dicksucker and a dick and nut puller-outer by night, or part-time." Furthermore, to up her respectability quotient, she decided to dress like a sexpert AND a commercial airline pilot. I can't even do real justice to Alexyss K. Tylor, so you just have to watch her in action. This YouTube is somewhat long, but it's worth every last hot second:
Seriously, this woman should be the fucking president. I LOVE HER.
Anyway, I forgot all about any redeeming qualities Robyn Byrd might have to offer when the internets introduced me to Alexyss K. Tylor. This woman hosts a public access show in Atlanta, in which she preaches the gospel of "Vagina Power," and encourages women not to get "dickmatized" by men and their nefarious "penis power." A sample of a typical Alexyss K. Tylor kernel of wisdom:
"We're hooked on the Penis Power and this man won't even buy you some shrimp from Long John Silver and that plate's what, $2.99? But he can give you a mouth full of sperm and a rectum full of sperm. We have to see what our issue is, because a man like that does not respect a woman."AMEN, sister! You said it. I've been hooked on this type of Penis Power myself on occasion, and it's just a shame I didn't know about Alexyss K. Tylor then to cure my dickmatization. The Vagina Power movement is spreading, because on Friday I was out with KatieScarlett and BloodyTosser, and we spent a good 45 minutes discussing Alexyss K. Tylor. She may be the greatest feminist mind who ever walked planet Earth.
In her most recent installment, Alexyss takes issue with the fact that she's received correspondence criticizing the way she talks. After a ten minute soliloquy about how she talks like a woman from Bankhead (like T.I.!) and how it's perfectly natural to use words like "dick" and "pussy" and "asshole," she contrasts herself with an educated professor at Spelman College who was caught exposing himself and presumably masturbating in front of another man in the bathroom at some regional airport, and asks who the REAL villain is. Is it her, for being uneducated and speaking in her snappy ghetto dialect, or is it this educated man who "is a professor by day and a dicksucker and a dick and nut puller-outer by night, or part-time." Furthermore, to up her respectability quotient, she decided to dress like a sexpert AND a commercial airline pilot. I can't even do real justice to Alexyss K. Tylor, so you just have to watch her in action. This YouTube is somewhat long, but it's worth every last hot second:
"I don't know if he wants them nuts in his butts, or if he wants them balls in his jaws, but he starts BEGGIN' the man, PLEASE give him some dick and nuts."
Seriously, this woman should be the fucking president. I LOVE HER.
Labels: Alexyss K Tylor, free fucking speech, hot chicks, I LOVE IT, perversion, sex, weiners
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
It's not slander if it's TRUE
I'm pretty sure that I reiterate this every opportunity I get, but I hate, loathe, and despise Paris Hilton. She irritates me and distracts from gossip about other celebrities that I would like to read about more. Last week, she was pissed because Manhattan Mini-Storage is running these ads on bus shelters, phone booths, and subways throughout my fair city:
Even though there are also ads saying "Your closet's so narrow it makes Cheney look liberal" and you don't see the VP's people flipping out, Paris didn't like these ads one bit. Her publicist demanded that Manhattan Mini-Storage remove it (which so far, they have not done). This is presumably because the last time Paris had dealings with a mini storage company, it resulted in the genesis of the short-lived parisexposed.com and lots ofpublic humiliation free publicity. In case you didn't know, a while back Paris failed to pay a $200 bill for a storage locker containing all sorts of shit, from pictures of her doing drugs to her fake IDs to old prescriptions, resulting in it being sold at public auction. Somebody bought all the old crap, spent ample time delousing it, and started this website, parisexposed.com, where you could access all of it. It's now shut down, either due to legal tangles or due to a lack of public interest in paying $40 for the privilege of seeing her dirty laundry. However, the damage has been done. The internets are still full of evidence that confirms what everyone has suspected for years: Paris Hilton is a dumb, fucked-up, herpes-ridden whore.
For example, her blatant rebellion against this particular elevator's non-smoking mandate. Well, it's blatant rebellion or a misunderstanding of the sign consequent to her limited literacy. It's possible she thought the sign either forbade only cigarette smoking, or encouraged packing your blown glass bowl rather than rolling up a doobie.
There is also an interesting series of photographs featuring Paris's friend with a mountain of cocaine on his chest. He must need all that snow to cool down because he's SO HOT. Brace yourself, ladies, because he is a looker:
Here is Paris letting Girls Gone Wild mogul and world-class douche Joe Francis fondle her boob (presumably as a prelude to an unrestrained exchange of various STDs between the two):
And let's not ignore the piece de resistance garnered from her storage facility, this video where Paris sings "I'm an ugly Jewish bitch", "I'm a little JAP-y Jew", "I'm a little black whore, I got fucked in the butt for coke," and of course the simple but straight to the point, "I'm a nigger and I steal shit, I'm black and I steal, yo." That's the true mark of Paris's high society upbringing: she's classy AND racially sensitive!
Well, Paris realized that maybe not ALL publicity is good publicity, because her PR guy has been on the offensive ever since about any material that so much as hints that Paris might be mentally retarded/bigoted/slutty/diseased/coked up/pick your derogatory description. Recently, Gallery of the Absurd made this brilliant poster as a spoof of the upcoming season of "The Simple Life:"
After this was posted on Dlisted, Paris's lawyer fired off a command to remove the poster from the internets, saying, "This poster clearly implies Ms. Hilton has loathsome diseases and also implies Ms. Hilton uses Vicodin. The inferences are false and defamatory."
Ummm...false? She doesn't use Vicodin? Then I'd like to hear her explanation for this:
And she doesn't have "loathsome diseases"? Then why is the bitch filling scrips for Valtrex? I've never seen her afflicted with herpes zoster (shingles), so the only other conceivable reason to take Valtrex is GENITAL HERPES.
Clearly Tina Fey wasn't kidding when she bitched to Howard Stern a while back that Paris has no sense of humor about herself and is an unprofessional "piece of shit." You don't hear Nicole Richie's people flipping out about this (possibly because her Vicodin use is a matter of public record and she'll undoubtedly experience some killer PMS while off at Simple Life camp). Nor do you hear Brandon Davis's people complaining that this poster implies that he lets beavers suckle his man-tits. Paris's lawyers clearly need to go back to their correspondence course at DeVry and brush up on what "defamation" really is. You can't defame somebody unless you're presenting lies about them as fact. It's not a lie that Paris has herpes, or that she was prescribed Vicodin, or that "The Simple Life" is a tightly scripted "reality" show (designed to induce suicide by viewers), and if you Google "Paris Hilton vagina" there are approximately 1,480,000 hits (including a very amusing and accurate site asserting that "Paris Hilton's vagina looks like sun-dried dog food").
Furthermore, the poster is obviously a parody. If people could sue every time somebody made fun of them, the internets would be a much less interesting place, "Saturday Night Live" would have been cancelled long ago, and I would never be able to speak or type a single damn word. Who the hell does Paris Hilton think she is that her recently developed apparent sense of shame can override the First Fucking Amendment? Not that my site gets enough traffic to pop up on Paris's lawyers' radar, but on the off chance I receive some kind of "cease and desist" e-mail from them, let me just say that I am not scared about fighting charges of slander from a woman whose overwhelming dignity, intelligence, and sophistication precipitates pictures of her naked, coked out her mind, and smoking a tampon:
Bring it, you cunt-faced, lazy-eyed, fake-haired, herpes-spreading, racist waste of oxygen.
Even though there are also ads saying "Your closet's so narrow it makes Cheney look liberal" and you don't see the VP's people flipping out, Paris didn't like these ads one bit. Her publicist demanded that Manhattan Mini-Storage remove it (which so far, they have not done). This is presumably because the last time Paris had dealings with a mini storage company, it resulted in the genesis of the short-lived parisexposed.com and lots of
For example, her blatant rebellion against this particular elevator's non-smoking mandate. Well, it's blatant rebellion or a misunderstanding of the sign consequent to her limited literacy. It's possible she thought the sign either forbade only cigarette smoking, or encouraged packing your blown glass bowl rather than rolling up a doobie.
There is also an interesting series of photographs featuring Paris's friend with a mountain of cocaine on his chest. He must need all that snow to cool down because he's SO HOT. Brace yourself, ladies, because he is a looker:
Here is Paris letting Girls Gone Wild mogul and world-class douche Joe Francis fondle her boob (presumably as a prelude to an unrestrained exchange of various STDs between the two):
And let's not ignore the piece de resistance garnered from her storage facility, this video where Paris sings "I'm an ugly Jewish bitch", "I'm a little JAP-y Jew", "I'm a little black whore, I got fucked in the butt for coke," and of course the simple but straight to the point, "I'm a nigger and I steal shit, I'm black and I steal, yo." That's the true mark of Paris's high society upbringing: she's classy AND racially sensitive!
Well, Paris realized that maybe not ALL publicity is good publicity, because her PR guy has been on the offensive ever since about any material that so much as hints that Paris might be mentally retarded/bigoted/slutty/diseased/coked up/pick your derogatory description. Recently, Gallery of the Absurd made this brilliant poster as a spoof of the upcoming season of "The Simple Life:"
After this was posted on Dlisted, Paris's lawyer fired off a command to remove the poster from the internets, saying, "This poster clearly implies Ms. Hilton has loathsome diseases and also implies Ms. Hilton uses Vicodin. The inferences are false and defamatory."
Ummm...false? She doesn't use Vicodin? Then I'd like to hear her explanation for this:
And she doesn't have "loathsome diseases"? Then why is the bitch filling scrips for Valtrex? I've never seen her afflicted with herpes zoster (shingles), so the only other conceivable reason to take Valtrex is GENITAL HERPES.
Clearly Tina Fey wasn't kidding when she bitched to Howard Stern a while back that Paris has no sense of humor about herself and is an unprofessional "piece of shit." You don't hear Nicole Richie's people flipping out about this (possibly because her Vicodin use is a matter of public record and she'll undoubtedly experience some killer PMS while off at Simple Life camp). Nor do you hear Brandon Davis's people complaining that this poster implies that he lets beavers suckle his man-tits. Paris's lawyers clearly need to go back to their correspondence course at DeVry and brush up on what "defamation" really is. You can't defame somebody unless you're presenting lies about them as fact. It's not a lie that Paris has herpes, or that she was prescribed Vicodin, or that "The Simple Life" is a tightly scripted "reality" show (designed to induce suicide by viewers), and if you Google "Paris Hilton vagina" there are approximately 1,480,000 hits (including a very amusing and accurate site asserting that "Paris Hilton's vagina looks like sun-dried dog food").
Furthermore, the poster is obviously a parody. If people could sue every time somebody made fun of them, the internets would be a much less interesting place, "Saturday Night Live" would have been cancelled long ago, and I would never be able to speak or type a single damn word. Who the hell does Paris Hilton think she is that her recently developed apparent sense of shame can override the First Fucking Amendment? Not that my site gets enough traffic to pop up on Paris's lawyers' radar, but on the off chance I receive some kind of "cease and desist" e-mail from them, let me just say that I am not scared about fighting charges of slander from a woman whose overwhelming dignity, intelligence, and sophistication precipitates pictures of her naked, coked out her mind, and smoking a tampon:
Bring it, you cunt-faced, lazy-eyed, fake-haired, herpes-spreading, racist waste of oxygen.
Labels: assholes, celebrities, drugs, free fucking speech, gross, oh the horror, overcompensation, perversion, ridiculous absurdity, sluts, threats
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Comment moderation is on...temporarily
I do not like the idea of deleting comments. Nothing pisses me off more than being told that I need to shut the fuck up, and it would be unfair for me to pick and choose what comments get written based on whether I like them or agree with them. I think that, no matter how unflattering to me, people should be allowed to say whatever they please.
However, for the last week, some psychotic jerk with entirely too much time on his/her hands has read every page of my archives, and then used the information within about myself and my friends to craft these horrible, racist, antisemitic, pathologically cruel letters signed with my name. For examples, see the Chingy!: The Major Motion Picture post comment page. I don't think that anyone, save possibly the Harvard-educated jarhead who ALSO has too much time on his hands (see the above post for examples of his stunning prose as well), thinks that I actually wrote these. Anyone who knows me or has read my site knows that I would *NEVER* write something like that. Nonetheless, every time I see shit written "by me" proclaiming my sanguine love for Josef Mengele, rhapsodizing about the joy of killing my beloved life partner J-Sexy and flocks of her Jamaican countrymen, and utilizing every derogatory name for black people ever created, I am filled with a combination of sickness and rage, and finally concluded that for the sake of my sanity I have to violate my own cherished "I don't delete comments" policy when one of these hateful missives gets posted. Since I actually have to get some work done, I can't check my blog every minute of the day to see if this asshole has written more shiteous correspondence and signed it "Razzy," and anyway, if one of these letters goes up for even a second, it's been in the public domain too long.
There probably is a way to block someone at a specific IP address from coming to my site, but I'll be damned if I know how to do that (if anyone does know, holler at your girl and help me out, because I'd way rather just block the asshole writing these). Without knowing how to block specific visitors, I basically have two options. I can either require that everyone who comments signs into Blogger, which will mean that many people will stop commenting because most people are lazy and don't want to have to go through the hassle of registering and signing in to comment, or I can turn comment moderation back on, which means that anyone can comment, but I have to approve the comments before they go up. I've decided on the latter. I will continue to approve all comments (even yours, Harvard boy), except the above mentioned letters written in the guise of me. I believe very strongly in free speech, and I PROMISE all comments will go up with the aforementioned exception, even if they're the old "ur a fat ugly slut" variety (and in the wake of these letters, I actually feel almost fondly nostalgic for those).
I am so sorry to everyone that ONE stupid motherfucker has forced me to do this, and if anyone has any alternative suggestions for how to deal with this, I'm all ears. However, my own personal ineptitude at webmastering limits the means I can use to keep this asshole off my blog, and I've HAD IT, so at least until this fuckhead decides that he/she has better things to do than write multiparagraph letters about using statistical measures to assess the success of my various racial hygiene schemes, comment moderation is back on.
And to the author of those: get a fucking life. It is disturbing to me that you have gone to such lengths attempting to make me look bad, and I'm well aware that you spent literally AN ENTIRE DAY reading every one of the 150+ posts on this blog, presumably in order to better imitate me. Seriously, I looked at my logs and this asshole literally spent TEN HOURS reading my archives. I have no idea what pissed you off so much that you felt the need to put so much time and effort into this, but I do NOT like having a malevolent e-stalker, particularly such a diligent one. If I ever get some computer geek to track down your name using your IP address, then rest assured, I will post ALL your personal information here to put a name other than mine to the shit you've written.
To everyone else: sorry I've had to do this, but please bear with me. I appreciate every person who reads what I put a lot of time into writing, whether the reader likes me and agrees with me, or not. I hope that you will all continue to read, and comment, and deeply, deeply love the useless bullshit written here (or love to hate it).
However, for the last week, some psychotic jerk with entirely too much time on his/her hands has read every page of my archives, and then used the information within about myself and my friends to craft these horrible, racist, antisemitic, pathologically cruel letters signed with my name. For examples, see the Chingy!: The Major Motion Picture post comment page. I don't think that anyone, save possibly the Harvard-educated jarhead who ALSO has too much time on his hands (see the above post for examples of his stunning prose as well), thinks that I actually wrote these. Anyone who knows me or has read my site knows that I would *NEVER* write something like that. Nonetheless, every time I see shit written "by me" proclaiming my sanguine love for Josef Mengele, rhapsodizing about the joy of killing my beloved life partner J-Sexy and flocks of her Jamaican countrymen, and utilizing every derogatory name for black people ever created, I am filled with a combination of sickness and rage, and finally concluded that for the sake of my sanity I have to violate my own cherished "I don't delete comments" policy when one of these hateful missives gets posted. Since I actually have to get some work done, I can't check my blog every minute of the day to see if this asshole has written more shiteous correspondence and signed it "Razzy," and anyway, if one of these letters goes up for even a second, it's been in the public domain too long.
There probably is a way to block someone at a specific IP address from coming to my site, but I'll be damned if I know how to do that (if anyone does know, holler at your girl and help me out, because I'd way rather just block the asshole writing these). Without knowing how to block specific visitors, I basically have two options. I can either require that everyone who comments signs into Blogger, which will mean that many people will stop commenting because most people are lazy and don't want to have to go through the hassle of registering and signing in to comment, or I can turn comment moderation back on, which means that anyone can comment, but I have to approve the comments before they go up. I've decided on the latter. I will continue to approve all comments (even yours, Harvard boy), except the above mentioned letters written in the guise of me. I believe very strongly in free speech, and I PROMISE all comments will go up with the aforementioned exception, even if they're the old "ur a fat ugly slut" variety (and in the wake of these letters, I actually feel almost fondly nostalgic for those).
I am so sorry to everyone that ONE stupid motherfucker has forced me to do this, and if anyone has any alternative suggestions for how to deal with this, I'm all ears. However, my own personal ineptitude at webmastering limits the means I can use to keep this asshole off my blog, and I've HAD IT, so at least until this fuckhead decides that he/she has better things to do than write multiparagraph letters about using statistical measures to assess the success of my various racial hygiene schemes, comment moderation is back on.
And to the author of those: get a fucking life. It is disturbing to me that you have gone to such lengths attempting to make me look bad, and I'm well aware that you spent literally AN ENTIRE DAY reading every one of the 150+ posts on this blog, presumably in order to better imitate me. Seriously, I looked at my logs and this asshole literally spent TEN HOURS reading my archives. I have no idea what pissed you off so much that you felt the need to put so much time and effort into this, but I do NOT like having a malevolent e-stalker, particularly such a diligent one. If I ever get some computer geek to track down your name using your IP address, then rest assured, I will post ALL your personal information here to put a name other than mine to the shit you've written.
To everyone else: sorry I've had to do this, but please bear with me. I appreciate every person who reads what I put a lot of time into writing, whether the reader likes me and agrees with me, or not. I hope that you will all continue to read, and comment, and deeply, deeply love the useless bullshit written here (or love to hate it).
Labels: assholes, free fucking speech, Razzy Haters
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Razzy Haters' Ball
My traffic has increased dramatically as of late, and with the new readers have come new haters. Since the haters have been out in force on my blog comment pages, calling me every name under the sun from "loose tubby cunt" to "neo-con dickhead boar" (not sure that person knows what either a "neo-con" or a "boar" actually is) to the always classic "fat skank," I thought I'd take a moment to discuss my views on this.
Many people have wondered why I don't simply delete these vitriolic opinions. Yesterday, J-Sexy marvelled that I put up with this maltreatment, since I generally don't take shit from anyone. Being the site administrator, it would certainly be easy for me to click the little trash can icon underneath anything I disagreed with and send it permanently into online oblivion. However, I feel that it would be cowardly to remove unflattering comments. Furthermore, if I'm going to mock and belittle people publicly, I certainly owe those taking the time to read this the same courtesy, even if they are mocking and belittling me. I'm entitled to my not-so-very-nice opinions, and so are those who actually take the time to read what I'm writing, complimentary or otherwise. My goal when starting this website was to fund my alcoholism. In order to earn revenue from an online venture such as this, you have to have traffic. Therefore, an increase in the number of insults indicates that more people are not only visiting RAZZY.org, but also reading it and forming an opinion about it, thus bringing me closer to my goal. I confess that the first few times I received a personally insulting e-mail or comment, my ego was mildly wounded. However, after receiving them in droves for six months or so, they aren't even an annoyance anymore. If you're looking to grow a thick skin, start a fucking website and promote the hell out of it, because if you write anything remotely worth reading, people WILL find cause to personally attack you (and proposition you in way that will make your skin crawl, but that's another rant). In my case, these attacks are usually a variation of one of three inane and tedious themes:
1. I'm fat and/or ugly
2. I'm a slut
3. When I get old, I will be sad, lonely, and unloved
This brings me to another reason why I don't delete comments. Usually, they are so banal (and often rife with spelling and grammatical errors) that they do more to disparage the author than me. Occasionally someone surprises me with something catchy (like my current favorite, "always the cum dumpster, never the bride"), but typically they strike me as the work of insecure, unhappy, and/or self-loathing people who latch onto some aspect of my online persona that they resent, and take it out on me in the only way they can given their pitiful command of the English language: anonymous name-calling. I often amuse myself trying to imagine what the story is behind these people. Here are some of the ideas I've come up with:
*Pimple-faced internet junkie with prodigious gut reminiscent of the guy who runs the comic book store on "The Simpsons" finds my website through a Google search for "Andrea Lowell fucking," reads my blog and/or the Rejects page, is angered because he hasn't gotten laid in...well, ever. He calls me a slut, feels empowered, and then whacks off to reruns of "Stargate: Atlantis."
*Some dickhead who I've called out on this blog for his woeful skills in the bedroom gets pissed at me for insulting their manhood or lack thereof (for example, misogynistic Ja-fake-ans with anger management issues who don't eat pussy or trim their fingernails and lack the ability to cope with rejection), then calls me a slut to restore his sense of manhood.
*A woman scorned by some jerk who cheated on her finds my website while drowning her sorrows in a quart of Chunky Monkey, is enraged by my flippancy regarding my participation in adulterous trysts, and calls me a slut to mitigate her own self-hatred.
*A pseudo-intellectual reads my blog and stumbles across a word he/she doesn't know and feels stupid. He/she pulls out his/her trusty copy of Roget's, then calls me a slut and includes a word like "parlance" or "demagoguery" to make him/her sound smarter.
*A woman with weight problems and/or abysmal self-esteem takes a break from writing Hallmark Card-esque poetry and wallowing in her own miserable self-pity, reads my blog and envies my cocksure arrogance, then calls me a slut to make her feel better by attempting to make me feel as lousy about myself as she does about herself.
*A single mother who would rather blame me than take responsibility for neglecting her own children and their internet habits calls me a slut to compensate for her inability to silence me through threats of legal action and online petitions.
Sometimes, insulting me is not enough, and a hater will go after one of my friends who read and comment on this blog, presumably to denigrate me further my stripping away the integrity of people who find my useless bullshit amusing. For example:
"Morrissey'shair is a metrosexual pussy who needs to wash the sand out of his vag before it gets infected."
Clever. I'm sure Morrissey'sHair is stung to the core that this anonymous commenter busted on him by ripping off Eric Cartman's "sand in the vagina" schtick. Then that commenter called me a "straight up chicken-head" and "skanky and fat," insults that sent me reeling.
"You friend [Mullah AntoniHo], however, does appear rather thick, as he has difficulty comprehending basic text or recognize overt irony."
Well, at least Mullah AntoniHo can TYPE basic fucking text, such as adding the necessary "-ing" after a verb.
Occasionally, someone finds that the comment page is inadequate for their Razzy hating needs, so they decide to send me e-mails that are nothing short of literary masterpieces. Sometimes I respond to these, because fucking with idiots is fun. Here is an example I received while on vacation a couple of weeks ago:
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
From: Ryan Benser (ryan3whs@msn.com)
Subject: [No Subject]
Your not hot! I am hot you are not. Why is your picture so far away from your face and in white background? Maybe so you can elude your viewers away from your real face characteristics and pasty white skin. Too bad you cant put me on your loser list huh friendster finding loser ass bitch. Maybe I am just trying to make you talk about me on your website, call me BENZ, I would sure love that. No wait this really was just to tell you that you are IN FACT not hot. I would never have sex with you or send you shit. You see the guys that are on your loser list? Those are the type of guys in your league because guess what they think your in their league because guess why?????? LOOKS
This guy was the first to assert that somehow the lab coat picture of me on the RAZZY.org main page is altered somehow to make me appear more attractive than I really am. Apart from his mastery of the run-on sentence, it was obvious to me that this dude has been humiliated by rejection one too many times in this sort of scenario:
Ryan Benser walks into a bar with his white baseball cap-wearing community college classmates and approaches hot girl.
Ryan Benser: "You're hot. Can I buy you a drink?"
Hot girl: "No thanks."
Ryan Benser: "Well, you're a stupid, ugly, loser-ass bitch and I didn't want to buy you a drink anyway! I only wanted you to think I wanted to buy you a drink, because you're so ugly! Loser-ass bitch!"
Ryan Benser goes home amid the guffaws of his fellow substandard Neanderthals and masturbates bitterly.
I figured that since it seemed Ryan wanted for some reason to be featured on the Rejects page himself (as he even went to the trouble of coming up with his own nickname), I could at least do him that favor. So I wrote back:
To: Ryan Benser (ryan3whs@msn.com)
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: RE:
Well, send me your picture if you want to be mentioned on my site so badly. I'm always on the lookout for new rejects, Benz, and you seem to desperately want the job. Besides, I'd really like to see the Adonis who is so unbelievably sexy and attractive that he can remind me repeatedly what a hideous troll I am.
Ryan naturally was too much of a pussy to send me his picture, and decided to change tactics and insult my intelligence:
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
From: Ryan Benser (ryan3whs@msn.com)
Subject: RE: RE:
Well when you shit on so many other people for the way they look I thought it only appropriate. I see your real face then I see that picture that says "tell me how hot I am" and the person in the picture looks very different. You are crazy if you think your are really going to get a picture of me. Do you think I am as stupid as I think you are for asking that question?
I had to answer that in the affirmative:
To: Ryan Benser (ryan3whs@msn.com)
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: RE:
In a word, yes. You are monumentally stupid, at least if your grammar and punctuation
are any indication. "Your" is possessive. "You're" means "you are." Go back to the
second grade and learn the fucking difference before you start cluttering up my inbox
with your idiotic "I am hot your not" comments.
Morrissey'sHair was kind enough to locate Ryan Benser's profile on MySpace for me, and he is every bit the tool I imagined him to be, or as Morrissey'sHair described him "a no account thumbdick with lots of time spent in the dorm (or his room at home) gorging on mini-mart fare and soft-core porn selections." Note that he has no friends (well, except Tom, but that doesn't count), and the only thing he wants the world to know about him is that he subsists on Ramen and Gatorade. Oh, and he doesn't want kids. No worries, there, Ryan, because I can't imagine that any woman would want to sleep with a social parasite like you. You're DEFINITELY hotter than me, Benz. Way hotter:
The moral of this whole story is that if you intend to leave some hostile shit via e-mail or blog commentary, PLEASE come up with something more interesting than the same old overused fat/slut/ugly remarks I usually get. Sticks and stones may break my bones, motherfucker, but those names will only bore the shit out of me.
Many people have wondered why I don't simply delete these vitriolic opinions. Yesterday, J-Sexy marvelled that I put up with this maltreatment, since I generally don't take shit from anyone. Being the site administrator, it would certainly be easy for me to click the little trash can icon underneath anything I disagreed with and send it permanently into online oblivion. However, I feel that it would be cowardly to remove unflattering comments. Furthermore, if I'm going to mock and belittle people publicly, I certainly owe those taking the time to read this the same courtesy, even if they are mocking and belittling me. I'm entitled to my not-so-very-nice opinions, and so are those who actually take the time to read what I'm writing, complimentary or otherwise. My goal when starting this website was to fund my alcoholism. In order to earn revenue from an online venture such as this, you have to have traffic. Therefore, an increase in the number of insults indicates that more people are not only visiting RAZZY.org, but also reading it and forming an opinion about it, thus bringing me closer to my goal. I confess that the first few times I received a personally insulting e-mail or comment, my ego was mildly wounded. However, after receiving them in droves for six months or so, they aren't even an annoyance anymore. If you're looking to grow a thick skin, start a fucking website and promote the hell out of it, because if you write anything remotely worth reading, people WILL find cause to personally attack you (and proposition you in way that will make your skin crawl, but that's another rant). In my case, these attacks are usually a variation of one of three inane and tedious themes:
1. I'm fat and/or ugly
2. I'm a slut
3. When I get old, I will be sad, lonely, and unloved
This brings me to another reason why I don't delete comments. Usually, they are so banal (and often rife with spelling and grammatical errors) that they do more to disparage the author than me. Occasionally someone surprises me with something catchy (like my current favorite, "always the cum dumpster, never the bride"), but typically they strike me as the work of insecure, unhappy, and/or self-loathing people who latch onto some aspect of my online persona that they resent, and take it out on me in the only way they can given their pitiful command of the English language: anonymous name-calling. I often amuse myself trying to imagine what the story is behind these people. Here are some of the ideas I've come up with:
*Pimple-faced internet junkie with prodigious gut reminiscent of the guy who runs the comic book store on "The Simpsons" finds my website through a Google search for "Andrea Lowell fucking," reads my blog and/or the Rejects page, is angered because he hasn't gotten laid in...well, ever. He calls me a slut, feels empowered, and then whacks off to reruns of "Stargate: Atlantis."
*Some dickhead who I've called out on this blog for his woeful skills in the bedroom gets pissed at me for insulting their manhood or lack thereof (for example, misogynistic Ja-fake-ans with anger management issues who don't eat pussy or trim their fingernails and lack the ability to cope with rejection), then calls me a slut to restore his sense of manhood.
*A woman scorned by some jerk who cheated on her finds my website while drowning her sorrows in a quart of Chunky Monkey, is enraged by my flippancy regarding my participation in adulterous trysts, and calls me a slut to mitigate her own self-hatred.
*A pseudo-intellectual reads my blog and stumbles across a word he/she doesn't know and feels stupid. He/she pulls out his/her trusty copy of Roget's, then calls me a slut and includes a word like "parlance" or "demagoguery" to make him/her sound smarter.
*A woman with weight problems and/or abysmal self-esteem takes a break from writing Hallmark Card-esque poetry and wallowing in her own miserable self-pity, reads my blog and envies my cocksure arrogance, then calls me a slut to make her feel better by attempting to make me feel as lousy about myself as she does about herself.
*A single mother who would rather blame me than take responsibility for neglecting her own children and their internet habits calls me a slut to compensate for her inability to silence me through threats of legal action and online petitions.
Sometimes, insulting me is not enough, and a hater will go after one of my friends who read and comment on this blog, presumably to denigrate me further my stripping away the integrity of people who find my useless bullshit amusing. For example:
"Morrissey'shair is a metrosexual pussy who needs to wash the sand out of his vag before it gets infected."
Clever. I'm sure Morrissey'sHair is stung to the core that this anonymous commenter busted on him by ripping off Eric Cartman's "sand in the vagina" schtick. Then that commenter called me a "straight up chicken-head" and "skanky and fat," insults that sent me reeling.
"You friend [Mullah AntoniHo], however, does appear rather thick, as he has difficulty comprehending basic text or recognize overt irony."
Well, at least Mullah AntoniHo can TYPE basic fucking text, such as adding the necessary "-ing" after a verb.
Occasionally, someone finds that the comment page is inadequate for their Razzy hating needs, so they decide to send me e-mails that are nothing short of literary masterpieces. Sometimes I respond to these, because fucking with idiots is fun. Here is an example I received while on vacation a couple of weeks ago:
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
From: Ryan Benser (ryan3whs@msn.com)
Subject: [No Subject]
Your not hot! I am hot you are not. Why is your picture so far away from your face and in white background? Maybe so you can elude your viewers away from your real face characteristics and pasty white skin. Too bad you cant put me on your loser list huh friendster finding loser ass bitch. Maybe I am just trying to make you talk about me on your website, call me BENZ, I would sure love that. No wait this really was just to tell you that you are IN FACT not hot. I would never have sex with you or send you shit. You see the guys that are on your loser list? Those are the type of guys in your league because guess what they think your in their league because guess why?????? LOOKS
This guy was the first to assert that somehow the lab coat picture of me on the RAZZY.org main page is altered somehow to make me appear more attractive than I really am. Apart from his mastery of the run-on sentence, it was obvious to me that this dude has been humiliated by rejection one too many times in this sort of scenario:
Ryan Benser walks into a bar with his white baseball cap-wearing community college classmates and approaches hot girl.
Ryan Benser: "You're hot. Can I buy you a drink?"
Hot girl: "No thanks."
Ryan Benser: "Well, you're a stupid, ugly, loser-ass bitch and I didn't want to buy you a drink anyway! I only wanted you to think I wanted to buy you a drink, because you're so ugly! Loser-ass bitch!"
Ryan Benser goes home amid the guffaws of his fellow substandard Neanderthals and masturbates bitterly.
I figured that since it seemed Ryan wanted for some reason to be featured on the Rejects page himself (as he even went to the trouble of coming up with his own nickname), I could at least do him that favor. So I wrote back:
To: Ryan Benser (ryan3whs@msn.com)
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: RE:
Well, send me your picture if you want to be mentioned on my site so badly. I'm always on the lookout for new rejects, Benz, and you seem to desperately want the job. Besides, I'd really like to see the Adonis who is so unbelievably sexy and attractive that he can remind me repeatedly what a hideous troll I am.
Ryan naturally was too much of a pussy to send me his picture, and decided to change tactics and insult my intelligence:
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
From: Ryan Benser (ryan3whs@msn.com)
Subject: RE: RE:
Well when you shit on so many other people for the way they look I thought it only appropriate. I see your real face then I see that picture that says "tell me how hot I am" and the person in the picture looks very different. You are crazy if you think your are really going to get a picture of me. Do you think I am as stupid as I think you are for asking that question?
I had to answer that in the affirmative:
To: Ryan Benser (ryan3whs@msn.com)
From: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: RE:
In a word, yes. You are monumentally stupid, at least if your grammar and punctuation
are any indication. "Your" is possessive. "You're" means "you are." Go back to the
second grade and learn the fucking difference before you start cluttering up my inbox
with your idiotic "I am hot your not" comments.
Morrissey'sHair was kind enough to locate Ryan Benser's profile on MySpace for me, and he is every bit the tool I imagined him to be, or as Morrissey'sHair described him "a no account thumbdick with lots of time spent in the dorm (or his room at home) gorging on mini-mart fare and soft-core porn selections." Note that he has no friends (well, except Tom, but that doesn't count), and the only thing he wants the world to know about him is that he subsists on Ramen and Gatorade. Oh, and he doesn't want kids. No worries, there, Ryan, because I can't imagine that any woman would want to sleep with a social parasite like you. You're DEFINITELY hotter than me, Benz. Way hotter:
The moral of this whole story is that if you intend to leave some hostile shit via e-mail or blog commentary, PLEASE come up with something more interesting than the same old overused fat/slut/ugly remarks I usually get. Sticks and stones may break my bones, motherfucker, but those names will only bore the shit out of me.
Labels: correspondence, defiance, free fucking speech, grammar gestapo, Morrissey'sHair, Mullah AntoniHo, ranting, Razzy Haters, retard rage
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