Old Football Fight

First of all, I'm kind of upset at Engine Joe Kapp. Punching old people in the face is my thing.

In this video, Angelo Mosca is a dick three times.

Joe Kapp tried to offer an apology for 40+ years of hatred between he and Mosca. He attempts to hand Mosca a flower in peace.

Dick Move #1: Mosca tells Kapp to "shove it up your ass." Whoa! Uncalled for. Kapp takes umbrage and tries to shove the flower down Mosca's throat. Ok ok, there was a better way Kapp could've handled that.

Dick Move #2: Hitting an unarmed man with a cane on the side of his face, knocking off his glasses. Kapp sticks the flower in Mosca's face after being humiliated. Mosca ups the ante a ton by bringing a weapon into this disagreement.

Dick Move #3: Getting knocked the fuck out! The other guy offers peace, you hit him with a cane, and YOU'RE the one getting punched out? You are a dick, Angelo Mosca.

You know who the real victims of this incident are? Imagine how Angelo Mosca's grandchildren feel. Their grandfather is a dick, an asshole, and a pussy all rolled into one fat immobile body. Suddenly, their lives went from, "Your grandpa played in the CFL? Cool!" to "I saw your grandpa get his ass beat by an old man on YouTube. What a loser!"

Life is Fleeting

One of the most difficult aspects of life is realizing that it is never static. Life is ever-changing. You cannot bottle any one moment and preserve it in any way other than in your memory.

And thus, if every moment is fleeting, how do we enjoy the present? Because it will be no more than a moment in time, gone as quickly as it came, do our actions even really matter?

They may not. But the fact is the present is the only moment we can control. We can long for the past. Or hope for the future. But we can't do anything about either. We only have power over the present.

A Rick Perry Thanksgiving Message

Here is a letter penned by Governor Rick Perry for this Thanksgiving.

Dear America,

Howdy, y'all! I'm thankful for many things this Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for America. I'm thankful to be governor of a great state. I'm thankful for all those jobs I'm gonna create when I'm prez-a-dint. I'm thankful there ain't a debate today. I'm thankful for that coyote I shot in the face when I was jogging a while back. I'm thankful for hair dye.

But there are three things I'm most thankful for. Without these three things, I wouldn't be me. I'm thankful for my wife. I'm thankful for Jesus. And I'm thankful for... um... uh... err... the EPA. No, not the EPA. I'm thankful for... the third thing is... shoot... can't remember. Oops. Sorry.

We don't know what Mitt Romney is thankful for. Is he the Mitt Romney who was thankful before he was before the second amendment before he was against it? Is he the Mitt Romney who was thankful before the abortion after he was against being thankful before he was abortion? I mean, which Mitt Romney is thankful? We don't know.

We know what I'm thankful for. Not that third thing though, because I still can't remember it.

Sunceerly,

Your next prez-a-dint, J. Richard "Rick" Perry

I Am Thankful For Not

On this day, people often think about things that they have that they are thankful for. But they forget to be thankful for things they don't have.

I am thankful for not having a finger in my penis hole.

I am thankful for not having a disease (that I know about).

I am thankful for not having a tiny penis.

I am thankful for not having to endure repeated bouts of rectal bleeding.

I am thankful for not being a Republican presidential candidate.

I am thankful for not being charged with 40 counts of child molestation and/or sexual abuse of a child.

Can It Really Be? A Jewish MVP!

Ryan Braun, former NL Rookie of the Year, won the NL MVP for 2011.

YYYYYYYYYYYYIPIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dreams of Herman Cain (Episode 7)

You can read Episode 6 here.

"Wake up, David."

"Leave me alone. No more!" I answered. My girlfriend, still locked in my arms, facing away from me, asked, "David, who is it?"

"It's Herman Cain, sweetie. He probably has another mission for me to do. I won't do it."

"Listen you, Becky and Stan are being held hostage in Libya by the Taliban. We must rescue them." My girlfriend and I turned to face Herman Cain. I spoke, "Listen, you idiot. None of that made any sense. Leave me alone. And anoth... get your hands off my girlfriend's breasts!"

Cain looked surprised. "Oops. Force of habit." His voice fell deeper and one eyebrow raised. "Hey baby. You want to take part in my 9-9-9 Plan? That's 9 inches for 9 minutes, 9 times a day."

My girlfriend, unfazed, retorted, "Hmm, sounds interesting. It's better than his 2-30 seconds-all the time Plan."

"Hey!" I yelled, embarrassed. "I read online you're supposed to start measuring from the roots, so it's two and half!" She sighed. I continued, "And remember, my record is 94 seconds. That's an eternity. Isiah Thomas scored 16 points in 94 seconds in the fourth quarter of Game 5 of the first round of the 1984 NBA Playoffs!"

"Mmmm baby, are you ready for 9-9-9?"

"It's tempting, but no. I'll have to pass."

"What? Why?"

"Well, because you don't have even a basic understanding of foreign affairs. I only sleep with people who possess that. Plus, I'm really attracted to tiny hirsute Jewish men." I couldn't hide my smile.

"But , but, but, baby. I am going to be president!"

"No you won't. People have finally wised up and realized you're too ignorant to be president." I mentally cheered my girlfriend, still outwardly wearing a smile.

Herman Cain was dejected. It seemed as if he would finally stop haunting my dreams. No more requests to take part in ridiculous missions. Perhaps, I was truly free at last.

I woke up alone. Herman Cain was sliding in the polls due to sustained foreign policy gaffes. It seemed as if I could finally return to my normal dreams, playing sports with Martin Luther King and Mohandas Gandhi and being with cute intelligent women dressed in tight jeans and seductive tank-tops.

KOed By Love

I was so excited. I had just scored a romantic coup. I had managed to get Jewish Argentine boxer Carolina Raquel Duer the perfect present.

A signed picture of Muhammad Ali running in the former Zaire before the Rumble in the Jungle against George Foreman. Ali, in his gray sweats, is stern and focused, surrounded by the effervescent yellow glow of an early African morning. The picture read:

Dear Carolina,

Belief in one's self is the key to success.

Best Wishes,

Muhammad Ali

"The Greatest"

I slid into the darkness of her room, planning on sliding the picture in the top drawer of her dresser. She would open the drawer and there, staring at her would be a signed, personalized, picture of Muhammad Ali. I was so satisfied at the joy I was about to give her.

I heard the door slam and whispered, "Oh shit!" I took a quick step towards the dresser, but the floor creaked underneath me.

"Who's there!" she screamed. She raced into the dark bedroom and belted me in the stomach. In my pain, my right hand swung out in an effort to block another potential punch. My left hand held firm. Both were still holding the picture.

I tried to tell her, "It's me! It's me!" but the punch had knocked the wind out of me. She threw an uppercut which sent me flying backwards. My head slammed against the wooden floor. I lay motionless save the occasional twitch.

She turned on the light and saw it was me. "Oh, my darling!" Then she saw the two halves of the picture addressed to her and signed by Muhammad Ali. The relationship ended.

Dreams of Herman Cain (Episode 6)

You can read Episode 5, Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

"David, wake up." That same methodical baritone crashed against my ears. "We have to take on the most important mission to date." One of my eyes crept open. "What now Herman. I'm trying to sleep!" Herman Cain glared at me, his patience clearly leaving him. "A real man would say that a sissy likes to sleep in. A real man would wake up." I rolled my eyes, "Fine. I'm up. What is it?" Herman Cain took a deep breath and stared up into the heavens before looking back at me. "I understand you know something of foreign policy. You must teach me all you know."

"But Herman, I'm no expert."

"Nevertheless David. I am requesting your help. Let us get started immediately."

A few minutes later, we plopped down on opposite sides of a round wooden table. I had created an impromptu syllabus of potential foreign policy issues that Herman Cain must learn if he didn't want to look foolish during the presidential campaign. I started with Uzbekistan.

"Herman, who is the president of Uzbekistan?"

"Who is the president of You-beki-beki-beki-beki-stan-stan? You know, I don't know. Do you know?"

"Yes, Herman. It's Islam Karimov. I've told you that ten times. Please pay attention."

"How is that going to create one job?"

"What? You asked me to help you learn about foreign policy issues."

Cain looked at me indignantly, "Knowing who is the head of some of these small insignificant states around the world, I don't think that is something that is critical to focusing on national security and getting this economy going. When I get ready to go visit that country, I'll know who it is. But until then, I want to focus on the big issues that we need to solve."

I became aggravated, but resigned to adhere to Cain's wishes. "Fine. That's such a stupid plan, but whatever. Let's just move on to China."

"Herman, do you view China as a potential military threat to the United States?"

"I do view China as a potential military threat to the United States." We sat in silence for nearly 45 seconds.

"Um, Herman. You have to give more than just repeating the question. Why do you view them as a threat?"

"My China strategy is simply outgrow China. It gets back to economics."

"No, Herman, let's stay on China and the military." Herman Cain nodded knowingly and restarted his train of thought.

"We already have superiority in terms of our military capability. And I plan to get away from making cutting our defense a priority. And make investing in our military capability a priority."

"Herman, please stay focused. That doesn't explain why China is a military threat."

"Yes, they're a military threat. They've indicated that they're trying to develop nuclear capabilities. And they're going to develop more aircraft carriers like we have."

"What the hell are you talking about? China's had a nuclear bomb for fifty fucking years, Herman! You need to focus or you're going down in flames. Let's take five."

I rushed out of the room to call my new love interest, the Argentine Jewish boxer, Carolina Raquel Duer. After spending five minutes yelling about what a moron I was working with, Carolina calmly said, "Well, you're only working with such a moron because you never listen to me, you putz! If you listened to me, you'd be working with one of the smarter candidates." I said she was right and we hung up. I reluctantly returned to the study room and that circular wooden table.

"Now Herman. We've talked a lot about the intricacies of our relationship with Pakistan. What course should U.S. policy take with regards to Pakistan?" Herman Cain looked down and took a large gulp as if suppressing an urge to frantically mutter, 'Oh, shit!' He slowly gained his composure. This was par for the course every time I asked Herman Cain a question.

"We don't know. Because Pakistan- it's not clear- because Pakistan was where Osama bin Laden was found and eliminated. Secondly, Pakistan has had a conversation with President Karzai from Afghanistan. And President Karzai has said if the United States gets into a dispute with Pakistan, then Afghanistan's gonna side with Pakistan."

I threw my pen down on the table. "What does that have to do with a clear plan on Pakistan? It's like you're just pulling out random facts that you remember from my lecture and spewing them at me in an illogical cacophony of soundbites."

Cain raised both hands, "There is a lot of clarity missing. Like you say, in this whole region, and they're all interrelated. So there isn't a clear answer as to whether or not Pakistan is a friend or foe."

I slammed my clenched fist on the table, "There's no clarity missing! There is a clear answer, Herman! You're just not paying attention when I talk."

We moved on to torture. I figured this would be easy. Just say you're against torture and we could move on. I asked Herman Cain if he is against torture. He gave his 'Oh shit!' routine before beginning, "I do not agree with torture period! However..." At that point I slapped the presidential candidate across the face. "No! Don't say, 'However.' Just, 'I'm against torture.' That's it. End of discussion."

I decided it best to move onto Libya. It would be a challenge. It was hard to argue with President Obama's actions in Libya from a Republican's perspective. "Herman, what is your opinion on Libya?" Herman Cain appeared to have been hit in the stomach by Carolina Raquel Duer as the question reached his ears. In a pained state, he asked the heavens for an answer. "Ok. Libya." His mind searched for any thing relevant to say.

"President. Obama. Supported. The uprising. Correct?"

"Herman, don't ask me! If a reporter asks you this question, are you going to ask him if you're correct? You'd look like a fucking idiot! Focus, Herman, focus. Do you agree with Obama's policy of removing Gaddafi?"

"I do not agree with the way he handled it for the following reasons. Um. No, that's a different one." Gravity slammed my jaw against the table. Cain adjusted in his chair and then continued, "I gotta go back. See. Uh." He was blinking profusely. "I've got all this stuff twirling around in my head."

"I know it's a lot for one day. Let's just focus on Libya, Herman. You can do this."

"Specifically, what are you asking me?"

"About Libya. Do you agree with Obama's action there? I can't dumb it down any more than that."

"Here's what I would have, I would have done a better job of determining who the opposition is. And I'm sure our intelligence people had that information."

I remained speechless for several seconds. I decided to walk around the room in an effort to gather my thoughts. Then the light bulb popped out of my head. "Listen, Herman. Do you want to be president?" He shook his head yes.

"Then you have an awful lot to learn. You can't pull this bullshit and have any chance in hell of being president. If you make even one of these mistakes in public, your campaign is done and people will remember you as a complete fucking dumb-ass for decades to come. The stakes are too high for your candidacy and your reputation." I took a sip of Diet Caffeine-Free Coke and continued.

"Why didn't you learn about this shit before you decided to run? You don't even have an elementary idea of what you're talking about. The ten year old boys Jerry Sandusky was raping in the shower had more foreign policy knowledge than you have. You need to suspend your campaign and spend an indefinite amount of time cramming. You have years and years of catching up to do."

Herman Cain grabbed his cell phone and ordered three Godfather's pizzas. Ten minutes later, the pizzas arrived. They were piled high with veggie toppings. Herman Cain shoveled them all into his face without concern for chewing. The slices of pizza were moistened by a constant stream of tears running down his cheeks and plunging into the pie.

Just then I jolted out of sleep. Herman Cain had committed a series of foreign policy gaffes on Uzbekistan, China, Pakistan, torture, and Libya. His poll numbers had finally started to slide and, perhaps, the dream of a Cain presidency was dying.

The Penn State Scandal

People should have known that Jerry Sandusky was a pedophile. He was a defensive end at Penn State in the mid 1960s. Because of his aggressive pursuit of the quarterback, his nickname was the "Gamblin' Nambla."

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Assistant coach Mike McQueary: Coach Paterno! Coach Paterno! I just saw Jerry having sex with little boys in the shower!

Paterno: Oh shoot, it's Thursday already? I've got a million things to do.

McQueary: Wait, you know about this?

Paterno: Sure. Every Thursday Jerry brings kids from his charity to our locker room, shows around, has sex with them.

McQueary: Shouldn't we tell someone?

Paterno: Yeah, I told the AD.

McQueary: And?

Paterno: He told the school's president.

McQueary: And?

Paterno: And he told Adolph Eichmann. Listen, I don't know what happened. What do you want from me? I did my legally required duty.

McQueary: Fair enough. I don't think anyone can blame us for this.

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"You know Sue, when we started this job here at Penn State 50 years ago, I never could have dreamed that googling 'Joe Paterno' and 'child sex' would get you 55,000 hits."

"That's true Joe. And I bet those forty 10 year olds never could have dreamed they'd be anally raped and no one would say anything."

"Shut up, bitch."

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The child sex abuse scandal has hit the public. Jerry Sandusky's reputation has been shattered. He's all alone sitting on the toilet thinking, "Who knew one little mistake, one little mistake of habitually raping little boys over a span of more than a decade could result in such a backlash. It's so unfair."

Pacquiao-Marquez 3 Decision a Travestry

Manny Pacquiao won a majority decision last night over Juan Manuel Marquez. He didn't deserve it. I scored the bout 10-2 in favor of Marquez. My "window" was between 10-2 for Marquez and a 6-6 draw. I couldn't see a way Pacquiao legitimately won this fight.

Pacquiao jumped in and tagged Marquez on the shoulders repeatedly. Meanwhile, Marquez continuously nailed Pacquiao with clean counters. After the fight, producers worldwide struggled to find clips of Pacquiao cleanly hitting Marquez for their highlight reels.

Pacquiao spent the entire fight coming forward. He also threw more punches than Marquez. That can trick an inexperienced or incompetent judge into believing Pacquiao deserved the decision. Perhaps I was blinded by the low expectations I had set up for Marquez. I predicted an easy night for Pacquiao.

But the fight I saw had Pacquiao missing and Marquez effectively countering. My understanding of scoring round boils down to which boxer showed the most effective aggression. Pacquiao was aggressive, but Marquez's punches were far more effective.

Marquez is an excellent fighter, extremely intelligent. But he's slow and small. Mayweather has the intelligence, but is fast and big. I see Mayweather countering Pacquiao on route to an easy shutout decision should they ever meet.

Pacquiao-Marquez III Preview

Manny Pacquiao is the best pound-for-pound boxer in the world in my estimation. Juan Manuel Marquez is sixth. Marquez is a great fighter. But don't believe the hype; he has no shot of winning.

Some will look to the first two bouts between these competitors. Marquez has won more rounds than Pacquiao in those two fights. He was able to hurt Manny. He is an intelligent and knowledgeable pugilist. That's all well and good, but it won't help him tonight.

Pacquiao is better than he was in 2004 and in 2008, when those first two bouts took place. I'm not sure we can say the same thing for the 38 year old Marquez. Most would agree than Pacquiao is a better fighter than Marquez now. Pacquiao is a welterweight; Marquez is a lightweight. So, the better fighter is also the bigger fighter. Pacquiao also has faster hands and more power.

It's the latter point that leads me to believe this fight will be a blowout. In their previous two bouts, Marquez got hit often. He went down four times. That was against a far smaller and less proficient Pacquiao. Marquez will get hit tonight and he will go down. I'm not convinced he'll be able to get up as he has in the past.
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Many look to Marquez's only other performance above lightweight. He was dominated by Floyd Mayweather at welterweight in 2009. Marquez's team says their fighter's gaining weight in a smarter way this time around. Their new strength coach has been linked to performance enhancing drugs. Yet, on 24/7, Pacquiao's strength and conditioning coach, Alex Ariza, said it didn't concern him even if Marquez was on steroids.

My instinct was to shout at the television, "Of course you don't care, your guy's on steroids!" I found it an odd and illogical position for a clean strength coach to have. But that was merely my instinct. I have no evidence and I'm not accusing either of these fighters of using performance enhancing drugs. I just wish there were more stringent drug tests so there are no doubts.

A New Republican Candidate

I'm throwing my hat into the Republican presidential campaign. I have the policy proposals the people want.

I think government sucks. I hate abortions and gay marriage. Mexicans should go back to Mexicano. I enjoy sexually harassing women and killing coyotes during my jogging sessions. I'm also a big fan of racist hunting ground names and praying away the gay. I'm for building three walls on the southern border and electrifying two of them. I wouldn't allow any Muslims in my administration or any government job for that matter. I would force Libya, Iraq, Afghanistan, and several other countries to reimburse us for the bombs we've dropped on them. Bombs are expensive. I'd cut taxes all to 4.5%. I'd also raise all taxes to 4.5% for everyone on everything. Lastly, and most importantly, I will flip flop on every single issue listed above.

This just in... I'M THE NEW FRONT RUNNER FOR THE NOMINATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dreams of Herman Cain (Episode 5, Part 2)

You can read Episode 5, Part 1 here.

The Ugandan reporters turned their attention back to Herman Cain. "If what this man says is true, Mr. Cain, you sexually harassed him." Herman Cain became defensive. "First, I have never sexually harassed anyone. And yes, I have never sexually harassed anyone. Secondly, I have never sexually harassed anyone. I can tell you unequivocally, I have never sexually harassed anyone outside of the plane in question."

Herman Cain and I were walking around in the bush of northwestern Uganda searching for Joseph Kony and the Lord's Resistance Army. On advice from Rush Limbaugh, Herman Cain intended to join up with the supposedly Christian LRA in order to fight President Obama's supposedly socialist Muslim troops. I was threatened into joining Herman Cain despite my stringent objections.

We stopped as the sun passed to the west and set up camp. As we became settled, Herman Cain pulled a skirt out of his knapsack. "Here, put this on." I took the skirt and became puzzled. "What? Why?"

"Listen, just do it. If you do not I will leave you stranded. You will be left out here to die." I did not posses Herman Cain's acumen for the outdoors. I relented. "No, take off you pants and underwear." He must be kidding, I thought. I checked his face. He wasn't. I did as I was told and covered my exposed genitalia with the skirt. "No, hike up that skirt so your goodies are showing." My head sank, but I did as I was told. My privates hung in the cool Ugandan night.

"Now that is what I am talking about, baby." Herman Cain's fingers danced up my thigh and he then clutched my bare rear. In graduate school I had read about South African miners who took boys as lovers. These boys were gendered as women, replacement females in a society where the fairer sex was non-existent. We are all familiar with the sexual activity that occurs between males in prison. On the outside they are straight, but without that option in the slammer, they find sexual satisfaction anyway they can.

In that Ugandan forest, something similar occurred. Herman Cain made his move. I wanted to fight back. I wanted to resist. But my livelihood, and my ass, rested in this man's hands. Herman Cain laid me down on my stomach and lifted my skirt. He yanked off his pants and stuck his stiff penis in between my thighs; there was no penetration. He thrust as he lay on me, spanking my butt and using his baritone voice to whisper dirty talk in my ear.

I dreamed of Camila Vallejo. I dreamed of Yulia Tymoshenko. Of Miri Ben-Ari. Scarlett Johansson. Shakira. Between those fantasies, a longing for sexual touch, and Herman Cain's hand fiddling with my penis, I became erect. I felt a concoction of shame, anger, sadness, pleasure, and guilt. I hated my penis for its stiffness. At one point the emotions overwhelmed me and I released. Herman Cain did the same shortly afterward. My taint and balls were covered in his ejaculate.

It was disgusting. I nearly threw up. Herman Cain grabbed me hard in a loving embrace. I could not even clean myself. I was trapped. I had to accept that I was Herman Cain's woman now. I hated it. I hated him. I hated myself. But I was powerless to do anything about it. My life depended on Herman Cain's good graces.

Throughout our time in the forest, I was Herman Cain's plaything. We engaged in numerous sexual acts that I would rather not discuss. I often dreamed of being in Guantanamo, forced to listen to Rod Stewart songs and watch a nude Dan Marino masturbate nonstop. It seemed to be the better option than this hell.

One day, as we were walking aimlessly, we came across some Chinese construction workers. "Ching chong ching," Herman Cain said with a smile. The Chinese workers pointed at my skirt and my hanging penis and laughed. Herman Cain tried to ask the location of the LRA repeatedly, slowing down his English each time. The Chinese men merely mimicked me.

We left the scene when Herman Cain accepted that these men would not be helpful to his cause. "At least those Chinese buffoons do not have the bomb. Then we would all be in trouble." My eyes widened. "Um, Mr. Cain, the Chinese have had the bomb since the 1960s." Cain sneered, "Well, kiss my grits." I retorted, "No, it's true." Herman Cain's eyes narrowed. "No. I am requesting you to get on your knees and kiss my grits."

We spent three weeks wandering around northwest Uganda. We never encountered the LRA or the 100 troops sent in by Obama. Instead, it was a three week period filled with Herman Cain sexually abusing me.

We flew back to the United States. I spent most of the plane ride in the bathroom, trying to scrub away the memory of Herman Cain's cum covering my privates. At one point during the flight when I was back in my seat, Herman Cain leaned over to me and whispered in my ear. "Here's $35,000. Don't tell anyone about what happened."

I woke up in my bed. My taint and balls were clean. Herman Cain remained in first place in the national polls for the Republican presidential nomination despite facing numerous accusations of sexual harassment and an apparent lack of basic foreign policy knowledge.

OccupyDC and the Police

I am at the OccupyDC protest. We are standing in the street yelling slogans. "We are the 99%!" "The people have the power!"The police decide to act. "Get on the sidewalk!" The protestors are confused. "Why? What's going on?" "Just get back!" The police do not concern themselves with our questions.

The protestors scramble to either side of the street. The edge of the sidewalk is crowded. I am one step away from the curb, my toes peeking onto the black of the road. "Get back!" a policeman screams at me. Where am I to go? I shoot a dirty look in his direction. "Get back now!" I scoot back a fraction of an inch and touch another protestor. "Get back now!"

The policeman pokes me in the stomach with his club. I slap at the club. He lowers it and swings it at my groin. I am laying in the street face first with my hands clutching my bruised crotch. The policeman stands over me. From his angle, he must not be able to see me rise on all fours. I then squat and spring up, uppercutting him back in the groin.

The policeman falls over my back. He drops his club. I pick it up and jerk it over my head in order to plummet it into his groin repeatedly, occasionally attacking his face. His pants become darker in the groin area as I likely have induced blood to spurt. A policewoman points her gun directly at me.

In the panic, the policewoman must have inadvertently crept too close to me. My survival instinct kicks in and I swat at the gun with the club. I make contact and the gun flies out of the police woman's hands. It strangely lands beside me. I naturally pick it up. I look up and ten police officers are pointing their guns at me.

"This was a peaceful protest. All of these weapons are yours. This man hit me with this club first. This woman pointed this gun at me first." "Drop the gun!" "You started this! This is your gun! I came unarmed!" "Drop the gun!" "I was asserting my right to protest! This was a peaceful protest! You turned it violent!" "Drop the gun!"

The crowd closes in around the tense scene. The wave of people continue to push. People flow in between myself and the police officers. A gun shot echoes and a protestor falls as life leaves his body. I shoot one policeman through the crowd. Another police officer shoots into the crowd, killing another protestor. A protestor picks up the slain police officer's gun and shoots another. That police officer's gun is snatched up by a protestor and soon all of the police officers lay in their own blood, victims of their own weapons.

In that tragic scene, the people begin chanting, "We are the 99% The people have the power!" No other government officials dare show up to challenge us.

The Bills are 5-3

The Bills took it on the chin against the Jets today. I said that if they played a real team last week, they would have lost. They played the same way this week- turnovers, not converting touchdowns in the red zone- and lost to a real team.

The worst part was the game was played in Buffalo. The Bills have to travel to New Jersey to face the Jets one more time this season. A late Bills touchdown made it a 27-11 game.

Ont he one hand, the Bills have one more win in half of this season than they did all of last season. That's great! But on the other hand, the Bills are 2-3 in their last 5 and stuck in a pack of playoff -experienced teams. The Jets, Patriots, Bengals, Ravens, and Steelers (if we only include the AFC East and North) have at least as good a record as the Bills. The Bills' passing game as stalled a bit and the defense still gives up a ton of yards.

Still, there is a lot of reason to be optimistic. The Bills played much better in the second half of last season and there's no reason to believe they won't do the same this season.

Who Runs the Afghan Government?

The United States does not run the Afghan government.
The United States does not run the Afghan government.
The United States does not run the Afghan government.
The United States does not run the Afghan government.
The United States does not run the Afghan government.
The United States does not run the Afghan government.
The United States does not run the Afghan government.
The United States does not run the Afghan government.

Much as was the case with a state department official who interrupted a speech by the Governor of Laghman, Afghanistan- Mohammad Iqbal Azizi- yesterday, I figure if I say it enough, I'll actually believe it.

Which is Crazier, Bachmann or Baseball?

Michelle Bachman has argued that Iraq and Libya should pay the United States reparations for "liberating" those countries. Think about that statement. Try to make sense of it. The U.S. invasion has destroyed Iraq. It ruined the fabric of the country. It's as if someone flies from California to your house, wrecks it, kills your family, and demands you reimburse this person for the flight.

The initial reason for the war was self-defense from an imminent attack of weapons of mass destruction. The idea of "liberating" Iraqis from dictatorship only came about when the WMD line fell flat.

Yet, I argue that Michelle Bachmann's statement, as offensive and callous as it is, makes more sense than baseball's All Star Game determining home field advantage in the World Series. As a friend succinctly put it to me, Bachmann's reasoning is sound if not valid.

She believes that the rest of the world is filled with a bunch of children who need the guidance of the United States in order to prosper. Thus, in her mind, the call for reparations has some logic to it. It would be like if your parents sent you a bill for the money they spent on you as a child. Though harboring a dash of logic, it's hard to get ignore the degree of heartlessness Bachmann's statement possesses.

But baseball's All Star Game determining home field advantage in the World Series possesses neither sound nor valid logic. It makes zero sense. The All Star Game is an exhibition that requires a player from each team to be on the roster. The rosters of both leagues are comically enlarged. Players are allowed to come back. This farcical exhibition game helps to decide the champion of Major League Baseball! As we saw this year, the Cardinals indisputedly benefitted from a game they did not even play in. There's simply no logic to it. It is indefensible.

The worst part is that it's so easy to correct. The team with the best record should get home field. It's a question similar to 2+2; there is only one answer.

But there are better wrong answers than the current situation. The team with the best attendance could get four World Series home games. You could go back to alternating leagues. Fans could vote to decide home field advantage. Again, these reasons are all stupid and wrong. They just aren't as stupid and wrong as the All Star Game determining home field in the World Series. To the question of what is 2+2, baseball has answered: 1,394, 638.

So to reiterate, Michelle Bachmann's assertion is insanely stupid, but still not as crazy as how baseball determines home field advantage in the World Series.

Dreams of Herman Cain (Episode 5, Part 1)

You can read Episode 4, Part 2 here.

I woke up. Sweat congregated around my forehead. Herman Cain had gained legitimacy in his run for the White House. Camila Vallejo was in Chile and had no inkling of my existence. I decided to return to my slumber and clutched my pillow. Underneath it was a piece of paper. The paper wore a poem written in beautiful foreign cursive. I read its title in bewilderment. The title read David.

David
We have another quest.
This one is tougher than the rest.
We must fight with the Lord's Resistance Army in Uganda
In order to thwart that communist Muslim Obama.
- Herman Cain

I crumpled up the paper, dwelling more on the disappointment currently overwhelming me that it wasn't from the attractive Camila Vallejo than the nonsense of its content. I fell back onto my pillow. There was Herman Cain towering over my bed.

"Wake up, David. We have another mission. We must go. Rush Limbaugh said the Lord's Resistance Army are Christians and we must protect them against Obama's Muslim army." I frowned.

"I think you've been misinformed, Mr. Cain. Josephy Kony and the LRA have been fighting President Museveni, who is Christian, and the Ugandan army because he sees himself as a prophet. The LRA has continued to exist because it kidnaps and indoctrinates its soldiers, many who are children,- and its people, the Acholi, feel alienated from Museveni's administration. Paradoxically, the LRA often preys on the Acholi, the very people they claim to protect, committing horrendous and despicable human rights abuses.

"In addition, high members of the Ugandan army hope to remain in a perpetual state of war which results in more money directed to the military, no questions asked. Many claim that the Ugandan military states it has far more members than it actually does, so high military officials can steal the salaries of the phantom soldiers. But the LRA is a very notorious group The ICC was created in order to indict its leader, Kony."

Herman Cain gave a dismissive shrug, "Rush and I will do more research about it. In the meantime, we need to get to Uganda immediately to fight for the LRA. Go buy your plane ticket."
"You're not going to buy my ticket? I don't have the money for this. And I don't even want to go. You should buy it. You have the money."
"No. Just because I have the money and you do not, I should buy your plane ticket? You do not have money because you are lazy. Stop engaging in class warfare and get a job."

My eyes narrowed into deep focus, "I'm engaging in class warfare? What about your 9-9-9 Plan? I already lose a ton of my income to state and federal taxes as soon as I make it. Now you want to take away 9% of my income tax. I don't make enough. Every dollar is precious to me. And you want to add a 9% federal sales tax to the 6% state sales tax that already exists in Maryland. Now I have to pay 15 cents on every dollar I spend.

"Meanwhile, a 9% tax is a huge tax break for rich people such as yourself. Now you'll be able to afford the new solid gold 8000 Zoom Flush Express toilet instead of the solid gold 6000 model that you'd be forced to settle for under the current tax code. What a shame."

Cain became furious, "Stop engaging in class warfare. We need to engage in real warfare. Buy your ticket and let's go."
"No. I won't. This war is for the Ugandans to settle. I will not fight out of concern for them. It is not for me to exploit their suffering in the name of my own interests."
"You must. I have enlisted you in the army and must serve or you will be imprisoned in Guantanamo Bay where you will be forced to listen to Rod Stewart songs and watch videos of a nude Dan Marino masturbating all day every day."
"Fine. I'll go."

I fell asleep on the plane in an extremely agitated state. But there was a hint of excitement that began to spread. It would be very cool to travel to Uganda and perhaps I could go rogue and try to foster peace. My imagination got the better of me as I dreamed of an amorous Camila Vallejo in a sexy tank-top leaning over and unbuttoning my pants. She grabbed my penis and began twirling her tongue around and sucking. I opened my eyes with a smile as long as Chile on my face.
Until I looked down. "Mr. Cain?"
"Yes David? What can I help you with?" Herman Cain mumbled in an uncharacteristically indistinct manner. "Well, I'm wondering why my penis is in your mouth." Cain momentarily relieved his mouth of my penis. "Is there a problem?" I shook my head no and he finished.

We arrived in northwest Uganda and called a press conference. "I commend your beautiful country for its stance on homosexuality," Cain bellowed in a booming voice, "Homosexuality is wrong and should be illegal. Two men should not get married unless they want to. The government should not tell them what to do."

The Ugandan reporters showed confusion across their faces. "Are you against gay marriage or not?" one asked.

"I cannot be clearer. I am against gay marriage. Unless two men want to get married. The government should not decide for them. The same with abortion. Abortion should be illegal in all cases, including rape and incest, unless the family decides they want an abortion. The government should not tell a woman what to do with her body. So I am clearly against gay marriage and abortion." Another reporter asked the same question. Cain erupted as if he were a school teacher explaining that 2+2=4 to high school students.

"Why is this hard to understand? I am against gay marriage, abortion, and a man sucking another man's penis on a plane to Uganda. Is that clear?" A barrage of hands shot up into the sky.

One reporter asked, "That last point was very specific and the white gentleman next to you just turned red. Did you suck his penis on the plane? Sir?" He was looking at me. "Did you partake in this gay experience? That is a crime here." I sauntered up to the podium with my tail between my legs.

I went the same route as Obama did when he was "accused" of being a Muslim during the 2008 campaign. Instead of defending the persecuted group, I denied being a member. I told them that I was not gay. I challenged each of them to close their eyes, have someone suck their penis, and then tell that person- male or female- to stop. All agreed they would not be able to do so.

The reporters turned their attention back to Herman Cain. "If what this man says is true, Mr. Cain, you sexually harassed him." Herman Cain became defensive. "First, I have never sexually harassed anyone. And yes, I have never sexually harassed anyone. Secondly, I have never sexually harassed anyone. I can tell you unequivocally, I have never sexually harassed anyone outside of the plane in question."


Join us again to find out what happens in the Ugandan bush.