"Me So Horny. Me Love You Long Time."
Mood:  suave
I almost certainly shouldn't post this entry, but what's a man's life and dignity good for if they can't be exploited for the sake of the entertainment of strangers? Besides, it's a part of my character to self-efface and self-disclose, so here's what I am doing: I have posted my profile (complete with some oh-so inviting photographs) with an internet personal ad service. I am looking for a girlfriend. I haven't had one in many years and, as I recall, it did wonders for my complexion. No. That's not even true. But, it is normal for a heterosexual male to seek a woman's company at some point, notwithstanding whatever repellent qualities he may be burdened with, so I've given into the temptation of humiliating myself online.

My first few contacts have been pretty lousy. It turns out, according to two of the three women I've chatted with, that the text of my profile is filled with subliminal misogyny. Of course, that's not true, nor would either of them be capable of articulating such a concept in those terms if it were, but what else do you expect a couple of cock-deprived bitches to say? See? If you want hostility, I can provide it from here to eternity. But what I'm trying to do is demonstrate a sense of humor. Guess what doesn't translate very well?

So, I get gun-shy. The nature of online flirting or introducing yourself or whatever you want to call it is necessarily verbal, so you have to say something interesting, right? Am I supposed to play Ralph Wiggum to their Lisa Simpson and ask if they "like things and stuff"? Wouldn't the idea be to provoke something? Not in an antagonizing way, obviously, but you shouldn't have to bury your fucking personality just so that you won't come across poorly. No, I wouldn't say what I've said to them if I ran across them in person, but that's because, again, you have to verbalize in this particular mode. You don't get to exchange glances and expressions and scent: you have to move directly to asking a question or making a comment worth responding to.

You must be thinking that I have come out swinging at them with stuff like, "Say, are those tits fake?" or "Hey, I'm fat, too!" But, no. I've come at them with that usual male bullshit like, "Good evening" or "who are you voting for?" or "you have a beautiful smile." It's all part of my patriarchal desire to oppress them with my courtesy and interest.

Is this coming off bitter? Good.

One of them already had me pegged for a sack of shit when her response included a reference to a statement in my profile expressing a preference for a woman with "solid middle-class values." She said she didn't believe in judging people by their income level or class and suggested, obliquely, that I was "stupid" for trying to engage her from a conservative position. Now, you have to realize that "a woman with solid middle-class values" is code among us fascists for "a woman who works for a living." That is to say, there's a lot of women who don't work and who either live off of Uncle Sucker and the local dole because they can't keep their legs together or who live off of daddy's credit card collection. So, when I say I want a woman who has a job, I mean that I want a woman who values her money and appreciates what it takes to make it 'cause this cracker don't go in for loafers and freeloaders, goddammit. If this woman who wrote me thinks that's awful of me (and, not incidentally, her degree is in Wymyn's Studies), then so be it.

Anyway, that's all beside the point. The real problem is my profile. In it, I have offended every one of these women with my sarcastic wish that their profile pictures show them with either some fucking guy hanging all over them at some bar or with a giant Great Dane in their laps or with a beer in their hands. See, I don't really want to see that, but that's how the seeming great majority of them present themselves. Is that supposed to be enticing? The obvious impression is that they are drunks who are obsessed with their dogs or who can't seem to get free of their prior entanglements. It's not fair of me, I know, but neither is being pissed on by strangers who don't realize that I am just trying to be interesting and funny and not an innocuous flatterer with nothing to say.

Prediction for New Hampshire
It's pretty clear that John Kerry is on his way to the nomination and I think he'll win big on Tuesday. The only real question is how well will Dean and Edwards do. I think they'll come in very close to each other, with Dean just slightly ahead. Lieberman may come in fourth, but it will be meaningless and he will have to withdraw soon thereafter, I would think.

The best news is that New Hampshire will finally put the lie to the Clark campaign (the dumbass is on the TV with Russert right now, apparently oblivious to the fact of his imminent political oblivion). Why does he think he's qualified to be President? He stands there loving on the notorious anti-American Michael Moore while that treasonous fuck calls Bush a deserter. It's pathetic. It'll be satisfying to see Clark disappear.

Another Saturday Night
Mood:  happy
Had lunch this afternoon with a couple of friends and their baby. The little one is awfully cute, but she isn't too sure yet if I'm one of the good guys. So, to prove that I am, I wind up making ridiculous faces that only a baby could draw out of me. And what is my reward? Well, I finally managed to coax a few toothy little grins out of her but, mostly, she just stared at me like I had just ripped a giant fart in church.

Chicks, man. What do THEY know?

Good Morning, You Little Stinker
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: "Good Morning, Good Morning" by the Beatles
Well, Spirit is starting to send back some positive signals from Mars. Yes!!! You little stinker! You scared us. They say it's a major software problem and may only be remedied after a lot of time and hard work, but at least it's working again. I am VERY pleased. Those pictures are just incredible.

Now, get back to work!

Something I Should Explain
Mood:  irritated
When I started this blog last spring, I figured I should keep the option of my anonymity open and, so, somehow thought it would be clever to take a pseudonym that paid homage to one of my very favorite cinematic characters, Tuco Ramirez (the "cattivo" in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly) and to the great actor Eli Wallach, who played him. Well, that was fine, I guess, but the further I get along, the more I realize that the user name eliwallach is simply a confusion to the vast halves of half-dozens that visit this site, which is hosted by Lycos/Tripod. The fine folks there have informed me, however, that I cannot change the URL I have through them. It's some technical reason I don't quite get. They say I'm free to delete this blog and start everything over under a more appropriate name, but I don't want to lose everything.

Anyway, I'm sorry if you are confused by the different URL names that appear in your address bar in association with this blog. I certainly don't mean to hide behind any other name, but to own up to my own, which is what it is.

That is all.

Wrong
Now Playing: "Strange Way" by Firefall
I guess I should go ahead now and admit that I was wrong about Howard Dean. But, I have lots of company in that who are far more learned and experienced in caucus politics than me. Dean was the favorite for so long that very few pundits saw even a chance that he could be knocked off the pedestal so violently.

Well, actually, Dean knocked himself off.

But, I did buy into the media's assurances that he was a prohibitive favorite for the nomination. Even though I was appalled at how clumsily he would think out loud, saying such stupid shit as how he was "having" to be polite and what he "had" to do to persuade Christians of his sincerity. An astute politician doesn't telegraph his moves like that; Dean not only telegraphed them, but had them laminated and posted. Political cynicism is expected; just don't discuss its anatomy with those you mean to hoodwink.

Anyway, we still have one more clown to countenance before we get ready for the showdown with Kerry-Edwards (and won't that be a first, with a two-senator ticket?).

Dammit!
Mood:  down
Bad news from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. The Spirit robot on Mars has stopped transmitting anything but garbage. Great. Just what we need: another NASA failure.

Keep your fingers crossed. And keep a good thought for Opportunity, the other robot rover which will be landing on the other side of Mars this weekend.

Weirdos
Mood:  not sure
I don't mean to be a dick, but what's with the national media's obsession with this 13 year-old girl Bethany Hamilton? (She's the lispy, wispy blonde-haired cutie who lost an arm last summer to a shark while she was out surfing.)

It's truly weird. Her story keeps getting reported and she keeps getting interviewed and they keep running footage of her all wet and scantily-clad, surfing once again.

Yet, is little Bethany some sort of hero? Is there some larger issue the media is trying to raise? Okay, it's terrible to lose an arm. And it's just great that she loves surfing so much that she would get right back on the horse, as it were. But the salient point, and I can't stress this too much, is that I don't give a fuck.

Stop interviewing her. Stop following her around. There is nothing she could possibly say (being a particularly, uh, blonde teenaged girl) that will ever make any difference or be of any value to me or anyone else but those who know her.

Surprise me, you pervs, and go report on stuff that matters.

Ninety-nine to One
Here's a helpful essay in this morning's National Review Online for those who think that the Patriot Act is some sort of diabolical scheme to violate Americans' civil liberties.

Remember: with the exception of the kooky Dennis Kucinich, every one of the major candidates for the Dumbocrat's presidential nomination voted for the Act. So, why are these hypocrites in full pander mode now? Because, just as they did with the issue of the war, they need to appeal to their liberal base. Sucking up to the patchouli-wearers (and maybe even some militia men) in the civil liberties crowd helps them all feel better and morally superior to J. Edgar Ashcroft-Goebbels.

But the claim that the Patriot Act is destroying our rights of privacy is the purest sort of horseshit. So, quit fronting, homeboy. No examples = no case.

A Reader Writes
The following is an exchange between me and a fellow Austinite who goes by the name of Sluggo. My remarks are in italics:

My balls slap the chin of any fool who backs this piece of used food.

Used food being shit, right? Nice.

The patriot act is just an excuse to make government more intrusive. Simply enforcing the existing rules would have kept these dikkos from being in this country.

I don't know about that. Didn't all 19 of the towelheads who attacked us on 11 September come here by legal means? "Existing rules" didn't keep anything out.

Vast armies of agents monitoring the american people will not prevent terrorism.

If politically correct (as opposed to reasonable) civil libertarians would allow racial and background profiling, we could narrow our focus almost one hundred percent. We know who's got it in for us; it's no mystery. But we have to go through the pretense of frisking little old ladies from Omaha in our airports instead of grilling these Mohammedan nut-jobs just to satisfy the liberals.

Deeply embedded networks of secret intelligence sources and agressive extraction of information will.

Sounds good to me, but how is that consistent with your preceding statement?

These efforts should take place within the framework of a true intelligence network.
Paying some mouth breather with a GED 35000.00 a year to go through your fukking bags at the airport will not keep you safe.

I agree. I'm no fan of the TSA.

Holding airlines (and airline executives) accountable for enforcing existing policies will.

Not a bad idea. Them and the airports. But who knew box cutters would be so harmful?

As for the rest of it. Anyone who still thinks bush is a "conservative" is a MORON.

What else would you call him? (Besides used food, of course.)

It is not conservative to throw open the the gates to every Tomas,Ricardo, and Enrique just so you and your crew can get some cheap brown labor without having to duck la migra.

I disagree. That is the definition of conservative, especially among the native working class: fat cats putting personal profits before the best interests of the common man and our culture. Reagan did the same thing in 1986. It's irresponsible.

It isn't the act of a conservative to spend the country into a deficit and cut taxes, unless you want to make american money worthless.

Deficit-spending is the basis of Keynesian economics. Remember FDR and Reagan?

Conservatives don't go meddling in other peoples affairs across the globe.

Nonsense, Sluggo. A century ago, McKinley and TR were the biggest imperialists around (e.g., the Spanish-American War, the Panama Canal, etc.). Those guys were Republicans. And let's not forget, as Southerners, that McKinley's old commander-in-chief waged war against the South. Republicans certainly do have a history of "meddling."

That used to be a job for the liberals.

That's true. From Wilson on down.

But there he is, the yankee jefecito playing the Texan and being a little jack-ass.

I defecate in the milk of your sluttish mothers.

Don't try your sweet-talk on me, see.

Some Sound and Fury
This ought to be rich.

Focus Now
The President's State of the Union address last night was just fine, but not especially impressive.

My favorite moment was when he stared down the civil rights heroes on the Democratic side of the aisle when they applauded a set-up statement he made about certain parts of the Patriot Act expiring next year. They self-righteously seized that little moment, but what do you expect? Is there any stronger an ideological indicator than one's position on that? These two-bit craphounds think they've sniffed out a new set of Nuremberg Laws for which they will be heralded down through the ages, but what they are actually doing is interfering with our police and intelligence agencies' ability to identify and keep tabs on Mohammedan assholes who wish to destroy our civilization. Got that? You won't have any civil rights to enjoy when some camel-fucker has come and killed you because you couldn't (or, weren't allowed to) tell him apart from some Qatari engineering student.

But, for my money, the most telling moment of the President's address was during his remarks on his immigration proposals. You could have heard the proverbial cricket chirping at a few turns there. That is to note, there are going to HAVE to be some major changes in his plan before it gets anywhere. Those silences weren't just Democrats sitting on their hands, you know.

But, look at it this way, Mr. President: you can save your re-election committee some money on focus groups. I think the reaction you got last night on what you aren't calling an amnesty program should tell you what you need to know.

Indictment by Endorsement
Mood:  incredulous
Just in case you were wondering whether Wesley Clark is the fucking dolt I say he is, here's some proof.

Clark thinks the anti-American Leftist Michael Moore is a "fantastic leader"? Unbelievable.

Circling the Bowl
Mood:  happy
My favorite aspect of Dean's irredeemable failure last night is that it shows what losers his supporters are. Y'know: Carter, Gore, Harkin, et al. I think it's especially sweet that Gore's judgement has once again been shown to suck. What a craven, disloyal liar he is for having stuck a knife in the back of his own running mate of just three years ago! The man who waited until Gore made his own plans known before making his own bid. I hope Joe Lieberman is having a good, long laugh at those wankers tonight.

Meltin' Badly
Mood:  loud
Man! Did you see Howard Dean at his [victory rally] last night? The guy was positively feral! It was almost as if he wanted to justify every misgiving anyone has ever had about his cucumbricality (my newest reification of the idea of coolness). I thought he might leap into the crowd and start biting nubiles on their necks!

It may be, though, that what we witnessed was a man who had just come to realize that his highest ambitions are now dead. Dean has no chance at anything now. The wad is shot. And you can thank Saddam for that.

My best interpretation of Dean's failure is that it points up the essential lack of nerve of the Democratic Party. They were absolutely queer about their little rolled-up sleeved, tough-talking Bush-basher, but, when it came right down to it, they lost their water and voted for electability. And let's be sure we understand that: Kerry and Edwards know what plays in Peoria. Like most of the mainstream, both voted for the war resolutions (although not the $87 billion bill, much of which is essential to rebuilding Iraq's infrastructure, which will also benefit American companies). The only reason either of them are now "anti-war" in whatever sense they may be is because it is a point of difference with the President. A manufactured point, but one nonetheless. But the most important thing is that they're not out there acting like surly nut-jobs; they're acting presidential. Dean doesn't "do" presidential and the hard-core types knew it, too.

So, what happens now? Clark and Kerry bloody each other up a little bit, Edwards keeps on playing nice so that Kerry will offer him the Vice Presidential spot, and Bush waits for them to push him harder on Osama and our borders and the Saudis and whatever else. Which is to say, if you are an enemy of the United States, 2004 is going to be the worst year of your life.

What Are We Looking at Here?
Mood:  surprised
Hmmm. It's 2000 CST and Kerry's kicking ass. Especially Dean's ass. What are we looking at here? An eventual Kerry-Edwards ticket? It's a real possibility. But there's always General Cluck to bollocks things up in New Hampshire.

It's an electability thang, see. These Dumbs finally got the message that Dean is temperamentally unsuited to be President of the United States.

Oh, well...

Bush-Cheney 2004, baby!!!

The Funniest Thing I've Seen This Year

A Point I'll Concede
This past weekend on Meet the Press, Dick Gephardt (soon to be known as a "miserable failure") made the point that Bush hasn't done nearly enough to make the Saudis answer for their collusions and support of terrorism. And the anti-American jar of rancid pus Michael Moore basically raised this same issue on Charlie Rose's show, although with a far more paranoiac view of things, which is his stock in trade.

The thing is that I agree absolutely with those who question our relationship with the Saudis. They have been given the biggest get-out-of-jail-free card ever and it's difficult to justify.

At bottom, it's clear why we treat Saudi Arabia with kid gloves: it's the oil. They control a lot of it and, besides that, they wield a huge influence throughout the region because they are the home to the holiest sites of Islam. That is their protection, ultimately. To raise a hand against Saudi Arabia would be to invite the wrath of Islam everywhere. After all, the mere presence of American troops there (especially de white womens) provided much of Osama bin Laden's ostensible justification for his murderous designs against us. Imagine us striking against them militarily.

Despite the fact of Saudi Arabia's exceptionalism in America's geopolitical calculus, they must not be allowed to continue to undermine us as they do. No more of their funding of madrassas and terrorist camps. No more of this irresponsible exporting and deporting of troublemakers and criminals.

And no more of our own government looking the other way when all the trails of evidence of the violence against us lead back to Riyadh.

Like Chris Rock says, ain't nobody above an ass-whuppin'.

To Counter a Charge of Mental Illness, I Cleverly Employ a Child's Taunt and Some Android Noises
Mood:  suave
Some guy on a Usenet group took a rather fragrant and self-righteous piece of prose from this site and posted it in the former location with a claim that I am mentally ill.

Why, it's like music to me ears!

Come again, sirrah.

A Tip for Gen. Clark
Say, Wesley, if you're going to send Jamie Rubin out to deliver five-minute revisions of each of your many, many dumbassed remarks, you could at least supply him with some fishnet stockings and a purseful of lipstick.