Does Bill O’Reilly Hate Bloggers?

I don’t watch Bill O’Hack Reilly, ever. In fact I don’t even like to talk about him. However I couldn’t help my self when I found a nice little news item on the web.
It appears that Billy doesn’t like bloggers.
Maybe it’s that we have more talent?
“Its garbage…the simpletons who are doing it are cowards” -Bill O’Reilly
http://www.emediawire.com/releases/2005/10/emw294729.htm

Check out Bill’s blog, call it a bulletin or whatever you want Bill, its still the same thing I’m doing right now, belittling people.

“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others” -George Orwell

More dead poets

I caught a showing of Sylvia on HBO a few days ago. Sylvia, the story of Sylvia Plath staring Gwyneth Paltrow. If you have a chance to see this movie and are also a Plath fan I would highly recommend this. Even if you never heard of her, check it out. Its good for you

And speaking of poets, why do all the dead poets get all the fame? Name five living poets know to the media at large. Some of these poets need to die so I can like then.

Daddy
By Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time --
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You --

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two --
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.

-Sylvia Plath

Ten years and nothings changed

Has it been ten years already OJ? I just realized this week will be our ten year anniversary. I’m sure you don’t remember me. I never met you. But I do want to let you know that I want the five minutes of my life back. Ten years ago when I was in grade school an announcement came over the P.A. system that if we (White Kids) wanted to cut lunch and see the verdict on T.V. we could. This meant I had to skip the Apple/Peach suspires. Damn you. Ever since, this has been one of the worse decisions of my life. I want my five minutes back.

You can do this one of two ways.

1. Pay me back. $2.95 with inflation a total of $4.73

2. Make some house calls for me. No I don’t want you to hurt anyone. Just knock and smile. You know. Be you.

It’s been ten years O.J. Simpson and nothing has changed. Most black people think you were framed and most white people think you are a killer set free. I’m still afraid to look at black people, and you are still afraid of the police. When it’s all said and done I don’t know what to believe anymore. If you did do it, all I can say is you’ve done your time. I can’t imagine being the but of ten thousand jokes. And having half the western world thinking that I’m a rotten sleaze bag. And if O.J. you did not do it (unlikely in my mind) then on the behalf of white people everywhere, sorry.

But either way that doesn’t pay me back for the Apple/Peach suspires.

No more free thinkers

I was paging through EBAY the other day. And I came about an auction that is offering original material for your blog that you can pander off as your own. You name the subject, they’ll write it, just give them 24 hours. Now I don’t want to be put on anyone’s bitch list, but if you ask me, any blogger that uses this service should be dropped from your favorite’s list ASAP.

People so uncreative they are afraid that unless they use a professional writing service they will look like the lame ass that they are already. Yes you heard me Ace. It’s over. You lost. Actually now that I think of it. Maybe professional writing service’s are a great thing for some of these people. I never want to hear that you defecated and ate a piece of toast in your blog again. Think for your self. Remember thought is free.

Look into my eyes!

Ah, Overstock.com. The big O!
You’ve seen her, come on your know it. You just cant help it. The Overstock.com chick. I’d use the term lady but that would imply, well you get the point….. Ah! What are you doing to me? every time you come on I have to look. And to tell you the truth Sabine Ehrenfeld, it’s becoming embarrassing. People look at me strange when I stare into the screen and crank up the sound.

This is why cable T.V. should me banded in every single car, truck and van in America. It’s bound to happen sooner or later. You pop up and I’m done.
Think I’m crazy? Check out this story. A man was killed in his van while he was trying to watch a DVD of “Road Trip” http://www.cnn.com/2004/LAW/07/27/dvd.traffic.death.ap/index.html

UNBOUND VIXEN

UNBOUND VIXEN

Anchor in my life

I’m the little grunt that does whatever. Tell me to do something, anything I’ll do it. I just ask one thing, be my friend, like me. I’ll do anything for you, anything you ask. I’ll clean your house, wash your feet, fix the stove.

I’ll drive, yes that’s right, I’ll drive you any ware. I’ll change, change anything for you. I’ll change my clothes, I’ll change my face and I’ll even change my shoes just for you. All I ask is that you please like me.

I’ll lie, I’ll cheat and I’ll steal. I’ll even commit murder. And if its not to much to ask, besides loving me just make sure the one I kill deserves it. By ax, by knife, by gun and by club I’ll kill just for you. Just make me a part of your life. I wont get in the way, I promos. I’ll sit in the corner. I brought my own bed. But if you want it, it’s yours. I’ll just sleep on the floor.

I’ve been watching you for ten years now. I sat quietly. You talked while I listened. Everyday I gazed at you. When you cried I cried, when you laughed I laughed.

Oh Anchor, it’s been ten years too long. Now your gone and married. Oh Anchor woman, be a part of my life.