Thursday, June 16, 2016


I am still so fucking angry I feel it best to calm down. Congress can shove their thoughts and prayers up their worthless asses. And I have told 75 of them so far exactly that. In the meantime, yeah what she said.

Friday, June 10, 2016

Stanford's New Mascot!

Let put this whole thing in perspective shall we? I mean there's plenty of blame to go around, right? Nobody is all bad or all good.ok? Oh yeah EXCEPT HERE!!!! Brock Turner is an entitled little prick who thinks raping some passed out girl in an alley behind a dumpster is his fucking right. He's a swimmer, a Stanford man, a fraternity stud, and all else is beneath him. Open your legs drunken wench for Brock is about to enter.

The victim , an "Emily Doe", which I suspect is not her real name, wrote a long letter to the court explaining in powerful words what she suffered through that night in 2015 when Swimmer Boy decided he had the right to do whatever the fuck he wanted in an alley behind a dumpster to a vulnerable woman. The part of the letter that gets to me is twofold. One, the questions asked of this victim by attorneys for the entitled rapist. What the fuck does the color of a cardigan, where she urinated,what she did years before, in fact fucking anything have to do with any of this? I am not ignorant enough to believe this doesnt happen to every single rape victim who goes to trial, it just STILL after all this time, after all this alleged progress, infuriates me to no end. I know young boys, I was one. The sex starved nature of young men encouraged by bullshit commercials, bragging by their lying friends, and easy access to porn is a powerful tool to make guys like this Swimmer Boy feel that raping somebody out back behind a dumpster is somehow justified. She aint real. She aint a real person like me. She'll get over it. I mean come on what? Whats the big deal here? Fuck off Brock.

Brock Turner stood in front of a court chomping on gum like the cocky prick he is. I'm rich, I'm an athlete, I'm a frat boy, she oughta be glad I had anything to do with her. Meanwhile his asshole father, just as entitled as his chip off the old block rapist son, wrote one f the most tone deaf letters to the court I may have ever read. The letter, a plea for mercy, I guess, begged the judge, another Stanford man, to not let "20 minutes of action" define poor lil Brock's 20 years of life. First of all, stop bragging about Brock's prowess you 50 something year old child. Second of all, fuck you Mister Turner. I understand this little creep you call son came from your loins and his faults, no his deviance , comes straight from you but really, stop trying to help your sex offender son. All your money and influence and the fact the judge is another Stanford man will have no influence on any of, heyyyyyyyyy wait. What the fuck?

Brock Turner, an alleged human person who placed an unconscious woman in an alley behind a dumpster, pulled down her pants, spread her legs and raped her until being caught red handed by a couple of heroes on bicycles, got 6 months, or 4 months in county for this. Not only did he not just celebrate his fortune, he decided to write his own letter to the court blaiming the demon rum for his actions, whining how he wished he had ever become a swimmer so the mean old press would stop writing about the fact he is a rapist sex offender. He cried about all the peer pressure put on him to nail chicks, how he made bad decisions, and how poor Brock never meant to "hurt" anybody. Yeah why couldn't that broad have been grateful? The rapist wrote how much HE had lost. His Olympic opportunity, his jobs, his Stanford degree all out the window. Poor me, my life is not going to be as cushy as I thought. Jesus Christ, this narcissistic rapist sounds a lot like a certain reality show host running for President. Its all about HIM, folks. Makes me want to puke.

I have a prejudice against fraternities I admit. The members seemed back in the 1970's when I had to deal with them complete jack offs, mostly from smaller towns and structured private schools eager to be told what to do. That's why us GDI's basked in our independence. We didnt need files of tests, cherries stuck up our asses, excessive drinking, hazing assholes batterig us with boards , and most of all rape. I know it happens. I saw it happen. I helped stop one once. And though I know I helped stop it for maybe a minute or two, until it resumed, it made me sick. Whenever I see frat boy President in his suit and tie, reading some prepared speech at some sort of charity event where other frat boys paint a poor person's house, or gather food for the homeless, I know that the night before, those same goofs were drunk, chasing tail and acting like complete barbarians. I also know not one gives a flying fuck about the poor, in fact, hate the poor, thinks they are lazy, and losers. And 75% of them will vote Trump. So my prejudice is out there. I admit it.

Back to Brock Turner, sex offender and rapist. Back to Stanford University, rape defenders and enablers. There's a rape, a reported rape anyway, on that campus every two weeks. Until Swim Boy got caught behind a dumpster violating a woman strong enough to defend herself, nobody at Stanford gave a shit. The father of Brock Turner still doesnt give a shit. The Stanford grad judge, Aaron Persky, obviously doesn't give a shit. And most of all, other than his lost opportunities because he is a convicted rapist, Brock Turner doesnt give a shit. This victim is an inconvenience to all of them. She doesnt fucking matter. And that is 2016 America folks. A society of privileged pricks who think they can do whatever they want, whether it be economically, socially, or ya know, rapingly. I am sure Swimmer Boy has many female fans, as sad as that may be. We are sick. Beaten down, crying out to blame somebody for our misery. Immigrants, women, liberals, women, Muslims, women, minorities, women. Get some help, America, Shit, even the two heroes on bikes who stopped Brock Turner and held him for the police were not Americans, They were Swedes. Get better, America. Please.

Lastly, regarding the "20 minutes of action" statement by Turner's father. Had it been Judge Max's Dad sitting up there the perfect response should have been "Ok Dad, for every minute of action, your boy gets 1 year, bye bye fuckhead." To which Brock could have just said Gee thanks Dad, which he should have said in the first place. Thanks, Dad, for being such a shitty father.

Saturday, June 4, 2016


Damn, they keep dying. Though The Greatest, Muhammad Ali, has in effect been dead for a long time, when they actually go away I can't help but think about what they meant to me when I was young. I loved boxing as a kid. The history, the great fights, and Muhammad Ali.

I was pretty young when Cassius Marcellus Clay first burst upon the scene in 1964 by beating Sonny Liston (when the hell is a movie about that guy going to be made?) in what was considered to be a shocking upset but in reality was nothing of the kind. Then he got all goofy (my Dad said that) and became Muhammad X and eventually Muhammad Ali and hung around with Malcolm X and then Malcolm got killed and Ali was under guard before the second Liston fight.. Oh it was a mess, that I only remember because I have read about it.

Ali understood box office. And emulating Gorgeous George and the wrestlers of the 1950's made Ali a box office draw. He understood that being a heel to white people and a hero to black people would fill seats. Oh how they filled. Ali would rhyme and scream and insult his opponents with nicknames. Liston was "The Bear", Floyd Patterson was "The Rabbit", George Chuvalo was the "Washerwoman" and Joe Frazier was the "Gorilla". Ok yeah, he went too far at times but that was the nature of the man. He didn't mean any of it. You could tell. Because no other boxer, other than Joe Frazier, actually hated the man.

Ali was stripped of his title in 1967 because the United States Government decided drafting him into the Army was a good idea and Ali said nope, I aint going. No Viet Cong ever called me a n*****. I aint got nuthin against no Viet Cong. Why should I go 10,000 miles to drop bombs on brown people. These were radical quotes at the time. Well, radical if you were a white conservative who actually did have something against them Viet Cong though what that would be I have no idea (see Trump,Donald), Ali was convicted of draft evasion and sentenced to five years in prison and lost his living. 3 years of his peak form were lost to an illegal immoral war that Ali quite frankly told the United States Government to shove up their ass. Too bad more people didn't have that courage in 1967 and about 35,000 Americans and untold hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese people would still be alive.

He came back in 1970 and for the next 8 years or so, a golden age of boxing occurred that will never happen again. Ali,Frazier.Foreman,Norton,Shavers, Lyle, Rocky Balboa. All of that happend because of Muhammad Ali. And now he's gone.

I am not going to go all yeah I was hip and loved Ali since I was 6 years old on anybody because that's not true. I didn't appreciate Ali when I was real young. I rooted for Joe Frazier in 1971 for chrissakes. I rooted for George Foreman in 1974. I loved those guys a punchers. They were the home run hitters and Ali was the .350 hitter who led off the game. Didn't get the social implications of Ali because I was a white middle class kid. I didn't dislike Ali, I just didn't get it. That is until 1975, and the Thrilla in Manila. They showed that fight in a movie theater in Lincoln,Nebraska on closed circuit TV. Hey kids, that meant you had to go there and pay money to watch a fight on a movie screen. Barbaric I know. The place was packed. Packed with every black student at the University of Nebraska and me. And they loved Ali. The cheered and screamed and hollered at Frazier like he was some sort of Uncle Ruckus. Wow, this guy means a lot to them. I remember "debating" a elevator full of black kids the night Ali had beat George Foreman. They dismissed my rooting interest in Foreman as a bad bet. I didn't disagree. How could this guy we know is cool be for Foreman? Well, yeah I made bad bet.

Ali meant everything to these fellow students. And after that night in 1975 in the greatest fight I have ever seen, he did to me. The white small town Nebraska kids I knew still rooted for Shavers and Norton and Lyle and Wepner and anybody else who lost to Ali because Ali was a draft dodger. Well fellas, theres a recruiting office right down there you can visit. And then came the inevitable. Ali got old. And Larry Holmes knocked him out. Then some guy named Trevor Berbik beat him. What the fuck is a Trevor Berbik?

Ali went on to become a sort of ambassador to the world. Even as he suffered the effects of Parkinson's Disease and deteriorated into a shell he was loved. The sight of this motor mouth being silent made me sad. Oh I'm sure the assholes of the world thought it all ironic and shit that this happened to him and were glad to see it because you'd never see a hero of theirs like Donald J Trump or Dick Cheney ever avoid "serving" their country.

So it's goodbye to The Greatest. He wasn't perfect by any means. But his image was. Float Like A Butterfly my man. And Sting Like Bee.

One last thing on Ali. My Dad, a very liberal Democrat, refused to call him anything other than "Cassius Clay". Now knowing my Dad, he may have just done that to get under my skin, but one day he referred to Ali as "Clay". So I said, "Dad, nobody calls him Clay anymore, except you and the American Legion". My Dad, a WW II veteran, thought guys in funny hats telling war stories was the most pathetic thing on earth. Dad never called him "Clay" again.

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Pitchy, Dawg!

I haven't seen Heart since 1977 when they first started and were so unique and yeah hot. The old Omaha Music Hall, a run down 3000 seat annex to the old run down Civic Auditorium, featured bands like Heart, Bruce Springsteen, REM, Tom Petty, ya know up and comers back then. The type of bands that couldn't fill the 9500 seats but could get a decent crowd at a smaller place played this broken down dump. Oh I kid, in '77 it was a fine place. Cramped and dingy, a sort of symphony feel. Classy. Well for 1977 Omaha anyway.

Heart is still out there humpin it, making a living, playing songs from the 70's and 80's that were monster hits to old people like me. Now, I gave up on Heart long ago, Couldn't stand them. Talk about schlock. Songs that made absolutely no sense to me. But still, that voice. Ann Wilson was power. Her voice had the power of two hammers bashing your ears in on both sides. Goddam, the songs sucked, but that woman could fucking sing. American Idol singers made careers singing Alone. Can she hit Ann Wilson's notes? Can she blow this place away? Some could, most could not. So when a Groupon arrived, I assume due to poor ticket sales, saying hey Max's Dad, wanna see Heart for $20 measly dollars, I said I am in.

Joan Jett and the Blackhearts opened the show. I had never seen Joan Jett live. Never had I cared that much for Joan Jett. Damn, how sick she must be of singing that awful I Love Rock N Roll cuz I know I am sick of hearing it. So when Joan Jett walked out, on time like us old people like, and launched into Bad Reputation, Christ, I was hooked. 45 minutes of pounding power from this 57 year old tough chick who will always be a leather clad teenager to me. Personable as hell, tailored her remarks to her audience, and just played her guts out. I'm not sure why her niceness surprised me. I guess I was expecting a 15 year old in chaps to walk out and tell everybody to fuck off all night. Joan Jett, if you get a chance, go see her. Even her new stuff rocked.

Then it was time for Heart. From the start it made me cringe. Magic Man started it all. I should have left then. Ann cant sing anymore. Well to be fair, she is now just a shell of her former self, but still good enough to get out there. It's like watching Willie Mays with the Mets. You remember the great, and the mediocre just makes you sad. I stuck around for most of it, but after she sang Alone acoustically and quite frankly would have been X'd by Howard Stern for it, I took off.

Sometimes the legends just can't do it any longer. And sometimes a person who is a legend but you dont realize it, steps up and fills that void. Thanks goodness for Groupons.

Monday, May 16, 2016

Idicocracy 400 Years Early!

The President, Barack Obama in case you'd forgotten or referred to him as one of the cute nicknames he gets over the years, gave the commencement speech at Rutgers yesterday and chided the nation's descent into dumbness, or as smart guys like him refer to it as, anti-intellectualism. The address was masterful, enlightening and totally incomprehensible to about 40-60% of the nation's citizens, who think a pompous prank calling racist sexist xenophobic loudmouth con artist asshole is "tellin it like it is". Thanks Obama, for keepin it 100.

How did the above happen? The sight of a crazy hypocritical grifter dope joining forces with a phony scammer lying flip flopping morally empty reality show host would have been laughed off the political screen 40 years ago. Hey Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter may not have been entertaining but they also sure as hell weren't stupid and/or bunco artists. When did this plunge into being stupid is a plus start?

Some could argue it was 1980 when the charming but rather empty headed Ronald The Saint Reagan somehow won the Presidency by scaring the bejeezus out of white people that the 60's and 70's were the devil years. That Vietnam was a noble cause, that Democrats were tax and spend (duh, who isnt, thats how gubmint works) liberals, the Rooskies were coming and the Ayatollah was an ass a hola. Reagan was Uncle Ronnie, kinda dim but had your best interests at heart while the guy who served in the Navy running a nuclear submarine was an incompetent nitwit. But lets face it, Reagans appeal was gut. He had competent people surrounding him protecting him from doing something really stupid. Yeah they may have been competent and yes evil, but nobody got past Nancy, who had nobody but Saint Ronnie's legacy at heart. Nope sorry, Haig, you are NOT in control. No way, Watt, are you going to strip mine Yellowstone. Sorry,Jim Baker and Don Regan, I need a calm guy like Howard Baker to take control. Nancy, and I'm not sticking up for anything other than her behind the scenes leash she had on a simple man who lived in a not real place , was the reason the world didn't explode.

Then came 1988. The ascent of a cynical son of a bitch with a wife even more cynical than he. George H W Bush. A man who would do anything to win with a Lady McBeth behind him. The stench of anti intellectualism began. Led by another cynical prick names Lee Atwater, the hey that Dukakis is pointy headed and really smart and shit so fuck him thinking became rampant. G H W Bush, a man who was Ambassador to the UN, head of the CIA, and Yale educated became the normal dude you'd have a beer with. The blacks are coming to rape your daughters, the women are coming to take your jobs and that Greek Governor isnt really "white".

Bush won, after overcoming 20 point deficits in the polls, because he succeeded in creating this normal guy character as he was buzzing around Kennebunkport in his speedboat. And ever since, its Dumbness 101 that is the platform of the Republican Party.

Oh they lose on a national scale. A lot. They have one official popular vote win since 1988 , in 2004, and that was either stolen or because Republicans really hated the gays in Ohio back then. And face it, the Democrats nominated another smart guy. Stop it.

The anti-intellectualism of today is bordering on Idiocracy. The Trump campaign, the Cruz campaign, hell everybody's campaign is making people dumber by the minute. Climate change, bahhhhhhh, science, bahhhhhh, simple logic, bahhhhhhhh, rights, bahhhhhh, chrissakes cant you see, millions of transgenders will be going into ladies rooms and molesting your non existent daughters. Whoa, whoa, arent those types all gay? Now all of a sudden they all came to Jesus and now like girls, little girls mind you, but girls?

The dumbness is getting unbearable. As the President said, telling it like it is is not a virtue. Telling it like it is is an excuse for being an asshole. Period.

So this year we will apparently have a choice. A tell it like it is (which it isnt) asshole who appeals to dumb assholes who cant wait to get to the Noahs Ark Theme Park. Or another cynical corporate hack. But until the cynical hack tells me she thinks that the earth is 6000 years old, or that she wants to build a wall to keep Mexican rapist back in Mexico, or that she also goes by Jane Miller and makes prank calls to Crazy Ira and the Douche I have to go with the hack. Sorry, Bernie Bots. I'm just tellin it like it is.

Saturday, May 7, 2016

Trump A Lump!

He was here and spoke in an airplane hangar to anywhere from 1600 to 3500 bad jointed waddling olds and bad brained bigots. Or in Trump math, 10,000 enthusiastic supporters.

Introduced by our talking hard boiled egg Governor, or as the clueless Trump emcee called him, Senator Pete Ricketts, Trump carried on about this and that, more specifically Bobby Knight to Florida golf to Trump steaks to flying to Mars. I have no idea what he was talking about because it was like listening to Abe Simpson yammer on about an onion on his belt. Yay!!!!!!!

Trump, who never ever uses a teleprompter (gee really?) like that Obummer does, in his latest attempt to not sound like a straw haired sociopath, actually looked at a notebook to act outraged over a tragedy that occurred here in Omaha months ago. A sort of Hispanic Fonzie, here from Honduras illegally, got drunk and slammed into a car carrying a young woman who literally had graduated college hours before. She died, he didn't of course, and he skipped bail, enraging her parents and the opportunistic political hacks like Ben Sasse (Junior Clown-Ne) and now Trump. Despite the fact that thousands are killed by drunk drivers every year or shot to death by 2nd Amendment enthusiasts, this one tragedy allows cynical pricks like Trump and sasse to further their own careers by "caring" so much. Using the family of this young woman as a political pawn to rally up the bigots in the crowd of , oh what, 20,000 by now. Instead of reacting to the Trump "outrage" by being sympathetic like any non asshole would do, the 30,000 Trump supporters responded with the brainless "Build The Wall" chant. Not so much cuz they cared about Sarah Root, but because they don't care for the browns. It is a disgusting sight. Truly. The young lady killed by a drunk driver (now thats the story not his fucking immigration status) accomplished more than any of these chanting monkeys will in their lives.

Trump could not let the fact that Ricketts, our dime store Lex Luthor, has a family of rich pricks who not only own the Chicago Cubs, but hate Trump so much they have reached into petty cash and contributed millions to stop the nomination of this talking orange concentrate can. Taking a shot at Ricketts by saying yeah I kinda like you now, but your family not so much, I was in a quandary. Who do I root for? Then I remembered the quote about letting your enemies beat each other up and just sit back and watch.

The protesters were there, interrupting the proceedings three times much to the anger of the shaved head goateed Trump tough guys in the crowd. There was actually a man bunned twerp who started shit, unfortunately two hours prior to the loudmouth's arrival. Genius, my hipster friend. I would have helped lead him out to the nearest glass blowing festival. Two hours before? Loosen the man bun, Cody.

So bye bye, Mister Trump. You've graced our fine state with your presence now get the fuck out.

Thursday, May 5, 2016

Clowns To The Left Of Me, Jokers To The Right!

The "presumptive" nominee of a political party temporarily taken over by band of misfits is coming to Omaha tomorrow. Yes the city that will reject the talking tangerine in November is being graced by the presence of the "presumptive" nominee who really "loves Nebraska" ya know dat place where Vegas is, right?

Donald Trump will fly into the Omaha airport on Friday to speak in an airplane hangar to hundreds of assholes who called in sick. Yep, Trump loves Nebraska so much he isn't even leaving his fucking plane. The lazy prick won't even get in a limo and ride to an arena or a bar or to a cornfield we all have in our backyards to dazzle us rubes with his message of fuck you if you aren't white screed.

Some wonderful vandals have actually made a row of grain silos along Interstate 80 (dont ask) even less of an eyesore by risking their lives to paint Dump Trump along the top. "An act of vandalism" harrumphed the owner of these gigantic silos that haven't been used since William Jennings Bryan was losing elections more often than Donald Trump's been married. Lighten up, owner of an blemish on this city you are too fucking cheap to tear down. Your ugly ass silos now serve a purpose to the thousands of out of towners who pass through our fair city and see those goddamn things as a confirmation of our backward ass reputation.

In the meantime, here comes our junior Senator Ben Sasse. He hates Trump. Oh not because Trump is a vile disgusting parasite but because Trump is a "liberal". There are some people who want this lisping punk to run for President as a third party candidate. If you know this guy, as opposed to asking who the fuck is Ben Sasse, you know what a dumb terrific idea this is. Sasse, a man who ran ads in his Senate race in which his little girls claimed they prayed every morning over breakfast to end Obamacare, is every bit the clown that Trump is. He's just younger and has better hair. Sasse sells hot dogs at Nebraska football games, walking up and down the stairs making faces and selling very few hot doogs. He runs a twitter account in which his profile photo is him trying to look like Larry of the Three Stooges, or he just looks that way which is my vote. Sasse would be the perfect alternative to Trump. A younger, dumber clown. Nyuck Nyuck.

Come to our fair state sometime. See the silos on an interstate in the middle of a city of half a million people, the vast majority who have never seen a farm, much less been on one. For now, at least, they're cool to look at.