Thursday, March 27, 2008

What is your favorite Stevie Wonder song?

Do you know what the mark of a truly great artist is? When you routinely find yourself changing your mind when it comes to pinpointing what exactly your favorite song by that artist is - its an indecisiveness in my life usually reserved for the types of deviant pornography I finally decide to "rub one out" to before starting my day. When I stumbled upon this 1975 grammy performance where he delivers a rather infectious "You haven't done nothing" - it automatically moved "As" out of my top spot, even though the hook on "Too High" is a force to be reckoned with, thus making it a rather formidable opponent in the weeks to come. Stevie Wonder is hands down my favorite artist of all time, and despite his 40 years worth of blessing all of us with ear-pleasing melodious mission statements of Love and Hope - his musical brilliance is to blame for my intolerance of subpar artistry. Being a fan of a man whose work ethic and perfectionism is second to none, who has a "go big or go home" aspect to creating songs - every time I hear an MC give a less than spirited 16 bars, I sincerely want he/she to euthanize themselves with an extremely dull butter-knife. Every time I hear Missy Elliot come out the same fucking song year after year, it makes me ashamed that I hail from the same state that she does - and that's saying a lot, with Pat Robertson being my neighbor and all. Even though black men are an endangered species, when my ear openings are breached by these minstrel show rappers that only appeal to black folks who I would immediately give up if I was ever captured in a race war - I want all of those motherfuckers to miraculously disappear, Jimmy Hoffa style. Stevie, YOU did this to me!!!

I was wondering, what is your favorite Stevie Wonder song?

I'm not a Campaign Manager, but I play one on this blog..(

As I've stated before, the last thing on earth I should be doing is managing a presidential campaign, mainly because my penchant for viewing everything as a knife fight would absolutely sink my respective candidate - presidential necessities like nuance and decorum are lost on a man who's own mother characterizes him as an "insufferable prick". There have been numerous occasions when I wanted Obama to fold Hillary up like origami, and when he failed to do so I usually questioned his testicular fortitude in rather unflattering terms - more times than not I turned out to be flat wrong by the way, but that isn't the main reason why campaign managing isn't in my life's blood. A few years ago, my younger cousin asked me to help him with his campaign to become class president - I jumped at the opportunity, not only would becoming class president be great for his college applications, but just think about all the miscellaneous High School ass that would be carelessly thrown in his direction.(So, since living vicariously through him can't be considered statutory rape, I figured that I'd help him out.) For a couple of weekends in a row, my cousin and I, along with about 30 of his classmates that served as his "staff" - painstakingly strategized his campaign so much that we might as well have been sitting behind blue schematics. Not only were poster and button making on the respective agenda, but more sinister plans were at work as well - like our plan to throw the opposition off by having his girlfriend break up with him due to a staffer who had slept with him, not to mention various nasty whisper campaigns about drunken sex the opponent once had with a cat and his parents actually being actual siblings. Karl Rove doesn't have shit on me. Unfortunately, my aunt found out what we were up to and pulled the plug on my campaign managing career - oh well, my cousin still won without my help, I guess positive campaigning works sometimes. Anyway, here is my weekly advice for Senator Obama.

Start having Sinbad's back: Its funny how slow the news media works, for those of us in the know(i.e cats who spend too much time online) - from the beginning, that Bosnia story that Hillary was regurgitating seemed to have so many holes in it you could have turned it into mosquito netting. Everyone knew that Hillary's Bosnia trip was with Chelsea, Cheryl Crow, and Sinbad, so when she bragged about ducking from Sniper Fire something just didn't seem right - but as soon as Sinbad came out and said that the "scariest" part of the trip was wondering where they'd eat next, I just knew that spelled trouble for Hillary. Now there is actual video footage that completely refutes her Bosnia tale, but to a bigger extent, severely undercuts her "experience" argument that she has had over Barack Obama the entire primary season. Not only does Obama need to routinely hit her on this, but he also should ask the media to investigate all the other questionable accomplishments that seem to be nothing more than padding to her record. Her Creation of S-Chip, whether or not she helped pass FMLA(Family and Medical Leave Act), if the story of her helping to bring peace to Northern Ireland was complete horseshit or not - take the game to her, especially after she is now shamelessly playing politics with Rev. Wright.(Read more here)

Monday, March 17, 2008

A few things you probably didn't know about me

During a random phone conversation I was having with my mother the other day, out of nowhere she proclaimed, "You are by far my most secretive child!" - a claim that I found rather curious based on an online diary that I currently maintain where I admit to having an underdeveloped black penis, and a story about how I once ruined my chances of having sex with a bona fide porn star because I drunkenly pissed myself while taking a cat nap. Before I could provide a sufficient counter argument filled with examples of my blatant honesty, she said "I'm not talking about your habit of giving "Too much Information" - hell, when you were a baby, as soon as you'd take a shit you felt compelled to tell anyone you could find. I just get the feeling that there is so much that I don't know about you, that's all." How could I answer that? Especially considering that I have never made a concerted effort to shield my dear mother from my private life, so even though I patiently listened while she voiced her concerns that I didn't particularly agree with - I just chalked it up to her wanting to spend more time with her baby boy during the twilight of her life. But the funny thing is, as I found out a few days later - some of my closest friends find me oddly secretive as well. Sure, they'll admit that I have no problem breaking down in mind-numbing detail how one of my dalliances' genitalia was so "battle-tested" that I swore I got a glimpse of her kidneys - but over the years, they feel as if they'd like at least a peek at even some of my most irrelevant idiosyncrasies. So, here are 8 things that you probably didn't know about me.

1. This is going to sound weird, but I have a weird hatred for coupons - I can't explain, it, I guess it has something to do with my mother being a coupon Nazi when I was a kid. If someone I'm with attempts to pay for something with a coupon, or if I'm behind someone in line with one - every time, I can't help it, I let out a rather exhaustive "Jesus Fucking Christ!"

2. My impatience is getting ridiculous. Yesterday, as I stood in a checkout line behind a lady counting pennies along with three other customers - I just told the cashier to ring everyone's stuff on my bill so I could get the fuck out of that store faster. If I keep that shit up, I'm going to be homeless.

3. I don't care if it includes a cure for cancer, or the specific location where a million dollars in cold-hard-cash is buried - in a rather reflexive manner, I erase all forwarded emails that have ever been sent to me. My feelings on forwarded emails is akin to how I felt when my brother watched one of my porn tapes back in the day - it instantly loses that personal touch once someone else has laid their eyes on it.

4. For the longest time, I've had a thing for delivering rather obscure references - when my girlfriend was wearing an all black outfit with a black beret last week, I told her that she looked like "Monie Love in the "Ladies First" video". I once told a girl, after performing oral sex on her - that her vagina was as "grainy as the zepruder film." My girlfriend wants me to disassociate myself with a childhood friend who happens to currently have a career in street grade pharmaceuticals, I know she's right - but as she read me the riot act about said friendship, I said to her: "I love committing sins and my friends sell crack!"(Nas - "Represent") You get the idea.

5. One thing that scares me, almost as much as being subjected to a Lil Wayne album or being on the business end of a prison rape - is seeing someone that I "kind of" know and engaging in small talk. I absolutely hate it, I can't tell you how many times I've exhibited ninja-like nimbleness just so some asshat that I casually know wouldn't bombard me with a time wasting conversation that goes absolutely nowhere. But when I am caught, I'm cordial for the first few fleeting moments - but I usually wrap it up with "Listen, I don't give a fuck about you and I'm sure that the feeling is mutual - lets unburden ourselves and move on. Shall we?"

6. One of the reasons why I'll never buy a handgun, outside of the fact that having a quick temper could complicate such a purchase - is that I have historically been an excellent shot. Whether it was a kid, visiting my Aunt in South Carolina, me and my father shooting cans in a deserted field - or my recent trips to the firing range with my cop friend, I'm starting to think that I missed my calling.

7. This is petty I know, but I tend to judge people based on the music they like. It doesn't matter if the person in question was a political science major who then went on to become an elected official - if that person even casually tells me that they are a Jim Jones fan, any argument they have from that point on about politics comes out sounding like Charlie Brown's teacher.

8. Not only do I vehemently reject wearing flip-flops, I denounce any fellow member of the male species who takes it upon themselves to wear the virtually soul-less footwear. I don't know what it is, some sort of mental block or something - but men wearing flip-flops seems morally wrong to me in the same way that having impure thoughts about a nun and going home and masturbating to the mental image you have of her in your head after you get home from school is wrong. Wait a minute, I've done that. Shit, I'm going to hell.

Stop trying to "David Koresh" me!(

You don't think I know "crazy"? I know "crazy" my friend! When you have a father like mine who's main passion in life, besides fixing automobiles and the three decades he honorably spent in the Navy - was to engage in the most viscous 18 year campaign full of "You Ain't ever going to be shit!" diatribes and other garden variety self-esteem killing tactics. When you have a grandmother who desensitized her own children to violence so much, that when my uncle waxes poetic about getting hit on the side of his head with a vase he does so with a glassy eyed affection usually reserved for Prom recollections - not only that, how many people can say that their grandmother was once incarcerated for stabbing a guy? The Kennedy's have politics, my family has dysfunction - and despite the lunacy that I've already exposed you to, my family still considers me to be the undisputed belt holder of the "crazy" title, and believe me that's saying a lot. Based on an extensive history of questionable behavior ranging from me punching one of those black "hustle-man" preachers in the throat for telling his congregation to vote for Bush solely on the issue of abortion, pulling a pharmacist over his counter and throwing him one hell of a beating after he made some sexually suggestive comments to my mother, and that time I rolled a handicapped man into traffic simply because he refused to admit that Rakim was the greatest rapper of all time - if being crazy was a contact sport akin to boxing, lets just say that I'm on a clear path of retiring undefeated. Forget about the physical stuff for a minute, I'm a sexaholic germaphobe for Christ sakes - even the most innocent sexual encounters where the necessary protection is used, more times than not I find myself having months of extensive blood work done - me clutching rosary beads, praying to the almighty that I didn't just have sex with the human embodiment of the outbreak monkey. Relationship wise, I'm a man with criminally low amounts of self esteem who goes after women far above my respective pay grade - the ever flowing motif of those unions not recognized by the church or my mother, consist of me regularly telling the woman in question: "Jesus woman, you could do so much better!" Like I said before, I know "crazy".

That's why I can't seem to wrap my head around the commonly regurgitated meme over the past months that Obama supporters are all "crazy", characterizing us as "cult-like' - proverbial Jim Jones kool-aid drinkers, political branch davidians, waiting for some spaceship to snatch us all up as we wear our black and white Nike's while attending an Obama speech.(Read more here)

I'm not a Campaign Manager, but I play one on this blog..(

Over the past three days, being bombarded with the non-scandal of the week that is "Pastor-gate", the mainstream media shamelessly regurgitating right wing talking points while FOX News has started using youtube clips of Rev. Jeremiah Wright as masturbatory material(I guess they were bored with "rubbing one out" to Mein Kampf) - I noticed that when white preachers denounce America, they are embraced, black preachers, not so much. As much as I'd like to think that Americans are smart enough to reject the guilt-by-association game, our fellow countrymen/women did elect the Barney Fife of presidents to two terms in office - so when you factor that in, I'd say that we all agree that Obama has to get in front of this in a very big way. So far he has done the right things, rejecting everything the pastor said that was inflammatory, writing a post on Huffington Post on Friday - that same night making the rounds on any cable news outlet that comes to mind to address the issue. That was just phase one, here is what I feel should be his second wave of political maneuvering when it comes the Rev Wright non-controversy - granted, I'm not a campaign manager but I play one on this blog.(Read more here)

Uncle HumanityCritic

Ladies & Gentlemen, HumanityCritic is now an uncle(..she was born a month ago, I know, I'm late) - introducing my niece, Michael Anne Osborne.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Another Edition of "HumanityCritic's Asshole Moments"

For a while now, after separately spending time with a few of my dearest friends - I started to get the sneaking suspicion that your favorite pre-ejaculating blogger was the human embodiment of a prosthetic penis, as phony as they come.(Get it? Sorry, that's the disgruntled rapper in me - I'm rather opportunistic when it comes to similes) Discovering my new found disingenuousness has absolutely nothing to with the fact that I'm historically a horrible friend who not only breaks promises, is habitually late, and once pursued one of my friend's aunts for the sole purpose of finding out what toothless blow-jobs felt like - it really has more to do with the fact that different people view me completely different ways. Most of the female bartenders in my area who enable my alcoholism look at me as a kind and gentle soul who keeps to himself and has a predisposition for writing and ruining his liver at breakneck speeds - its funny how loathing strangers while getting your drink on makes people assume that you're the shy/quiet type. My childhood friends see me more in a comedic light, a wise-cracking scumbag who will say and do just about anything to get a laugh - like the time I told one of our friends that his shirt was so tight he had to use a shoe-horn to get it on, or when I convinced a very special young lady to let me put a paper bag over her head while we made sweet love. Then there are the friends who can provide first-hand accounts of some of the more heinous acts of violence I have perpetuated, everything from punching a preacher squarely in his jaw, to throwing a gentleman with a leg cast down a flight of stairs.(But since we are all grown men the days of senseless violence are hardly even visible in the rear view mirror any more.) Its not that I alter my personality depending on who I'm with mind you, its just weird that so many people perceive me so differently - and that very fact came to a head recently when all those friends just happened to be drinking at the same bar one night. It was interesting, sitting there listening to my rowdy buddies giggle like catholic school girls as they were told about how "sweet" a guy I was, and all my other friends acting absolutely horrified when they heard a cryptic story about me pushing a wheelchair bound man into rush hour traffic - great, now everyone knows that I'm an asshole.

Bouncer abuse: There is this 22 year old named Terry that I befriended months ago, nice enough kid - he frequents my neighborhood bar, and through a series of about 200 conversations I think that I have accidentally fell into the role of surrogate big brother. To be quite honest, I'm the last motherfucker on the face of the earth who should be giving advice to anyone, but since I'm slowly understanding the differences between "right" and "wrong" - I don't see anything wrong with dropping some jewels on the young man from time to time. Anyway, just like a little brother, whenever I see him he wants to slap-box or do anything remotely close to what my old man used to call "grab-assing" - a pastime that I both reject and denounce like a Farrakhan endorsement. This one particular night I had had enough, picked his ass up and threw him outside - I was playing of course, he knew I was playing, but everyone inside a watering hole that your average American would characterize as a "dive bar" thought we were really fighting. Flash forward to last week, when Terry and I were reminiscing about the incident to his girlfriend - who was also there on the night in question and believed were were fighting as well, the bouncer of the place heard what we were talking about and said "I knew you weren't fighting, because if you were I would have whipped your ass!!" When he said this, he wasn't talking about Terry and I as a collective unit - his words were pointed in my direction as if his mouth had a sniper scope on it. I tried to blow it off, especially since I know that this particular bouncer fancied Terry's girlfriend and this was just his feeble attempt to score cheap "Macho-man" points - so I simply said, "Get the fuck outta here!" and continued the conversation. That's when he countered with, "You're lucky my arm isn't in a sling, because I would show you right now!", that's when Terry and his girlfriend both shook there head as I started at the gentleman itching for a public beating. I said "What did you say?", in which he replied "I said, if my arm wasn't in a sling.." - before he could finish his sentence I started hitting his fractured arm with the same aggressiveness of middle weight boxer pounding a heavy bag the day after a loss. His screams of agony were so high pitched, I'm positive that if we would have stayed around 5 minutes longer we would have been bombarded by all the stray canines within a 2 mile radius. Yes, it was wrong and I apologized yesterday, but at least he now knows that physical impairments can't save you from the most public of ass whippings.

Hitting below the belt: The weirdest part about having a girlfriend is simply maintaining the relationship, resisting the urge to tell her to "stop being such a finicky eater" after climaxing - ignoring my deep seeded desire to tell her mother to stop calling her at 4 A M for the most felonious of reasons, things of that nature. But when it comes to her younger sister, all decorum flew out of the window as soon as I met her 7th "boyfriend" and accidentally belted out "Jesus Christ, who aren't you fucking?!" - so suffice it to say, she now thinks that I'm a piece of shit just like the other 70% of the people who know me personally. Anyway, besides her penchant of burning through more rubbers than a funny-car competition, she's also a local boxer - the fact that she spends more time on her back outside of the ring than inside of it is a testament to how good she is. Well, a few days ago, when we all went out to dinner to celebrate her latest ring victory - she started asking us what her defining boxing phase should be. So I stood up, raised my glass to all who were in attendance and said - "You know what your tagline should be? 'Floats Like a Butterfly, Stings when you pee!'" - lets just say that I was the only one impressed.

Take that motherfucker!: For the longest time, as my bong resin filled brain will allow me to remember, I have always been skeptical about most platonic relationships between males and females. I held the firm belief that there was always one party who wanted to see the other naked, eagerly awaiting that monumental day when the person staying true to the nature of their friendship would come to their proverbial senses - that's why every woman I've ever been friends with knew that I'd be willing to ditch the platonic relationship for 3 fleeting minutes in the back of my muscle car. I went into all that because for the first time ever I have a true platonic friend, she doesn't look like "Refrigerator Perry" either - thus making the friendship much more pure. She's extremely beautiful, so being that no impure thoughts have crossed my cerebellum - lets just say I'm proud of myself, or scared that its just the precursor for me possibly coming out of the closet. That being said, last week, while the both of us imbibed spirits and made each other laugh - a very intoxicated gentleman passed by her and brushed his hand against her midsection. Completely inappropriate, and usually I would have hopped on his ass in record time - but my newfound platonic friendship status rendered me motionless, I was trying to figure out the particular decorum in matters of this nature. Well, the guy apologized profusely and my friend seemed to brush it off - but with each passing minute the angrier I got at myself for not chin checking that son of a bitch.

A couple of days later, when I was taking my dear mother to her doctors appointment, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up some odds and ends. As we were pulling out of the parking lot, I saw the gentleman in question walking to his car - so I stopped my automobile besides his, told my mother to "hold on", and crept up behind the gentleman and put him in an extremely tight sleeper hold. As my mother screamed "What in the fuck are you doing??!!" I let the guy go, but before walking off I gave him 3 or for kicks in the stomach for good measure.(..and for some reason, for the life of me I can't tell you why - I screamed "Riverside motherfucker!") My poor mother, screaming emphatically "Get your ass in here boy!!" - but I found something very curious though, for the first time my mother laughed at one of my random episodes of violence - I'm such a bad fucking influence.

I'm not a Campaign Manager, but I play one on this blog..(

If Barack Obama's quest to become the Democratic nominee for President has taught me anything thus far, its that the last thing on earth I should be doing, outside of trying to rehabilitate a room full of female sex addicts - is acting as anyones campaign manager. When Obama failed to attack his opponents in some of the earlier debates, I exhaustively screamed at the screen as if I was watching a slasher flick at an all black theater - at the time I was convinced that he lacked a killer instinct, and because of that Dennis Kucinich would probably be around longer than him. Ok, I was wrong about that. After he lost New Hampshire, it was my contention that Obama should go the Tonya Harding route and kneecap former president Clinton for belligerently going around and distorting his record like a drunken frat-boy - he more or less did that, and we haven't seen much of Bubba since South Carolina. Then when John McCain used his wife, the seldom heard from Cindy McCain, to score cheap political points by saying that she loved America - a direct response to the Michelle Obama "..for the first time I'm proud of my country" non-story that the press regurgitated because of their fundamental laziness. I was convinced that Obama would have Michelle introduce him before he gave his Wisconsin victory speech, before handing over the microphone to her husband she would mention Mrs. McCain's pathetic grandstanding and tell the crowd that her husband represents a new type of politics. Obviously that didn't happen.

So every week, depending on the political developments of the preceding days - I'm going to give Barack Obama some campaign advice that I hope he'll find beneficial. If not, I'm sure him and his staff can sit back and laugh at my suggestions - and openly wonder how they can take the advice of a career alcoholic who once had sex at his fathers wake.

Campaign Surrogates, Go Big or Go home!: One thing I noticed when it comes to Hillary Clinton's surrogates, is that all of them feel extremely comfortable executing talking points - mercilessly attacking Obama on a plethora of issues as if it was second nature to them. Obama's surrogates on the other hand, their collective judgement possibly clouded by the "Clinton mystique" - never go for the jugular, and whenever they do get critical they preface their remarks with "..with all due respect to Senator Clinton.." No, No, No. My advice for the Obama campaign, heading into next week - is to get some surrogates out there who aren't scared to throw some serious punches - Obama can still perpetuate the "hope" message if his surrogates are willing to figuratively slice Achilles tendons and choke out Hillary's presidential arguments with spare telephone chords.

Play the "Marriage Certificate" Card: Hillary has been saying all along that while she is the one with experience, all Obama has is "that one speech he gave in 2002" - its time for the Obama campaign to poke proverbial holes in said experience. Being that Ms. Clinton held no security clearance, and the laundry list of issues that she claimed to have had a hand in during the 90's is disingenuous at best - its time for Obama to challenge her on this particular front. He should say, "While I have shown the proper judgment it takes to be commander in chief, by her vote authorizing the war in Iraq Hillary has not - matter of fact, she has the audacity to think that showing America her Marriage Certificate is experience enough. I don't think so."

Obliterate the "Dream Ticket" talk: The Clinton Campaign, Hillary and a handful of her surrogates - have made it their business this week to push this "Dream Ticket" theme. Obama has to aggressively knock this down for two Reasons: 1) This type of talk might de-energize some of Obama's voters, giving them a false sense of security that regardless what happens - Obama will be on the ticket anyway. and 2)Mrs. Clinton has said, repeatedly, that her and John McCain have "crossed the threshold" needed to become Commander-in-Chief - suggesting that Barack Obama is vastly unqualified. Obama needs to call her on this - suggest that her attacks lack substance and intellectual honesty, because how can he be grossly unprepared on one hand but you wouldn't mind the guy being your Vice President on the other.

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

Tina Fey, you are dead to me.(

I'm not even going to lie to you, if there was one woman on the face of god's green earth able to dethrone Janeane Garofalo off the top of my "Quirky white women who would be worth black women's collective chastisement" list - it would specifically be "Saturday Night Live" alum Tina Fey. Even though historically I've only pelvic-ally underachieved on top of the likes of black and Latino women - there is something strangely erotic about the idea of occupying a bed with a woman who not only shares my love of Monty Python flicks but also occasionally goes on ill-advised "reparation" rants. I'm fully aware that Ms. Fey is a happily married women, but I always envisioned a scenario where she would ask me to join the writing staff of "30 Rock" after stumbling upon my blog one random day - and as she complimented me on a joke that I wrote where I characterized Stephanie Tubbs-Jones as "The Sammy Davis Jr of the Clinton Surrogates", all of a sudden a very innocent glance would turn into a passionate gaze. Before you know it, she'd be abandoning a successful career and a lovely family for an underachieving writer who looks like Lennox Lewis if he had a thyroid problem - and my mother would disown me, not for being with a white woman mind you, but for dedicating my personal and vibe blogs to the many benefits of interracial dating.

That being said, my school-boy crush for Ms. Fey received a rather punishing body blow last weekend as I watched the episode of SNL that Fey returned to host - calling that particular show a 90 minute shill job for Hillary Clinton's campaign is a gross understatement akin to saying that Mickey Mantle was a recreational drinker. First, let me tackle the debate sketch. Forget about the fact that a dread-locked lover of late-night snacking such as myself would have made a better Barack Obama than the actor who played him(Fred Armisen), the comedic recreation of the CNN debate was just a regurgitation of the "Barack is getting a free ride" meme that we've all been tirelessly bombarded with. One of the most astounding phenomenons, outside of Stonehenge, unexplainable crop circles, and the popularity of "Two and a Half Men" - is the universally embraced talking point that Obama is getting preferential media coverage. Sure, the guy is relatively new and people view his meteoric rise with understandable curiosity - but there are a few things to consider.

First off, if the roles were reversed and Barack Obama was the one who lost 11 straight contests, Democratic party elders and the media alike would be begging him to exit stage left - he'd be a darker version of Mike Huckabee, minus the bass guitar playing and the penchant for eating fried squirrels. Only a black man who was president of the Harvard Law Review and a professor of international politics would have an "empty suit" narrative promoted about him in the media incessantly - and despite a website that goes into painstaking detail concerning all of the man's purposed policies, many are left to believe that he's all rhetorical touches and no substance. Barack Obama could publicly burn effigies of Louis Farrakhan to prove that he is in no way affiliated with the man and that still wouldn't be enough, but when John McCain is endorsed by John Hagee, a man who said that Hurricane Katrina was "the Judgement of God against New Orleans" and that the Quran contains a "mandate to kill Christians and Jews" - he is neither asked to reject nor denounce him.(By the way, one of George W Bush's biggest endorsers has been Pat Robertson who once claimed the 9/11 was caused by "pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays, lesbians, the American Civil Liberties Union and the People For the American Way." and that the acceptance of homosexuality could bring about "hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes, terrorist bombings and a "possibly a meteor." - Russert would have never had the "man minerals" to ask Dubya to denounce that certifiable kook) Then you have the Tony Rezko non-story that the media aggressively masturbates all over, the way they try to maintain a straight face while suggesting that the Shady business man might bring down Obama's candidacy is rather giggle-worthy - especially when you think about the rogues gallery of shady characters littered throughout the landscape of Hillary's past. I've also noticed the "Gotcha!" game the media has started playing with Obama supporters, starting with Chris Matthews as he turned an interview in which the Senator from Texas, Kirk Watson, thought he'd be asked about Obama's Wisconsin primary win - but he quickly found out he'd be put through the Spanish inquisition instead. Ever since then, opportunistic reporters exposing a journalistic laziness usually found on gossip blogs - find some unassuming Obama supporter and ask them to dictate Obama's Senate record back verbatim, clumsily awaiting a desired outcome that reminds you of Gerald Rivera in front of Al Capone's vaults.(I did my own unscientific poll of Clinton supporters this past Saturday where I asked them to list some of Hillary's achievements - deers in fucking headlights I tell you. Granted, I did pose my question in a local watering hole, that mostly the intellectually inept frequent, around "last call" - so the alcohol could have been a contributing factor)

Back to Tina. During the "Weekend Update" section of the show, under the title of "Women's News" - there was my baby, Tina Fey, and I just knew that she was lace me with the same sort of comedic gems I usually receive from a garden variety episode of "30 Rock". But unfortunately, in her support of Hillary that I have absolutely no problem with - she just perpetuated the same hamfisted talking points regularly used against Barack Obama, just with more subtlety. When she asked, "Why are people abandoning Hillary for Obama?", and then proceeded to list the possible reasons including a "co-presidency", her physical appearance, and people who think she is a "bitch" - it universally insulted the intelligence of the millions of Obama supporters who co-sign the junior Senator's candidacy for the highest office based on the issues. Then, when she ended the segment with "Bitch is the new black" I cringed, not because I couldn't see any scenario in which ornery and highly disagreeable ladies get a cab over your standard black person in New York City - but it just reminded me of how many times Hillary Clinton has shamelessly used the gender card. Whether it was the uncomfortable moment during the last debate when she referenced SNL and complained about always being questioned first, or her nightline appearance where she claimed that it was tougher being a woman running for president than a black man -for a second, just image the massive outrage and moral indignation if Obama ever decided to play the race card, even in a round about way.

Ok. Who am I bullshitting, nothing can suppress this chubby black man's affection for Tina Fey(unless she has a hidden affinity for Cross burnings or Lil Wayne albums that I don't know about) - I just wanted to let her know that I'm going to tell it like it is whenever we do get together.

Youtube politics(

I'm sure everyone has seen the shameful Hillary Clinton "3 AM" ad by now, the one where she very gracefully plays the Rovian fear card - subtly suggesting that an Obama presidency would bring about nothing short of Armageddon. Even though the Obama campaign countered immediately with what I feel is a superb response ad, we here at me) want to take it a step further. So here are three videos, one made by an Obama supporter where Bill Clinton seems to be giving Obama a futuristic endorsement back in 04' - and the other two video's are spoofs of the "3AM" ad.

(Hat tip to Bob Cesca and Lee Stranahan)