Ranting and Raving….

I believe that a self-righteous liberal with a cause is more dangerous than a Hell’s Angel with an attitude.

I like big cars, big boats, big motorcycles, big houses and big campfires. I believe the money I make belongs to me , not some governmental stooge with a bad comb-over who wants to give it away to crack addicts for squirting out babies.

Guns do not make you a killer. I think killing makes you a killer. You can kill someone with a baseball bat or a car, but no one is trying to ban you from driving to the ball game.

I believe they are called the Boy Scouts for a reason; that is why there are no girls allowed. Girls belong in the Girl Scouts!

I don’t think being a minority makes you a victim of anything except numbers. The only things I can think of that are truly discriminatory are things like the United Negro College Fund, Jet Magazine, Black Entertainment Television, and Miss Black America. Try to have things like the United Caucasian College Fund, Cloud Magazine, White Entertainment Television, or Miss White America; and see what happens. Jesse Jackson will be knocking down your door.

When 70% of the people who get arrested are black, in cities where 70% of the population is black, that is not racial profiling, it is the Law of Probability.

I believe that if you are selling me a milk shake, a pack of gum, a newspaper or a hotel room, you must do it in English! As a matter of fact, if you want to be an American citizen, you should have to speak English!

I think the police should have every right to shoot your sorry ass if you threaten them after they tell you to stop. If you can’t understand the word “freeze” or “stop” in English, see the above lines.

I don’t think just because you were not born in this country, you are qualified for any special loan programs, government sponsored bank loans or tax breaks, etc., so you can open a hotel, coffee shop, trinket store, or any other business. We did not go to the aid of certain foreign countries and risk our lives in wars to defend their freedoms, so that decades later they could come over here and tell us our constitution is a living document; and open to their interpretations.

I don’t hate the rich. I don’t pity the poor. I know pro wrestling is fake, but so are movies and television. That doesn’t stop you from watching them.

I think Bill Gates has every right to keep every penny he made and continue to make more. If it ticks you off, go and invent the next operating system that’s better, and put your name on the building. Ask your buddy that invented the Internet to help you.

I am sick of “Political Correctness.” I know a lot of black people, and not a single one of them was born in Africa; so how can they be “African-Americans”? Besides, Africa is a continent. I don’t go around saying I am a European-American because my great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather was from Europe. I am proud to be from America and nowhere else. Even though I’m not proud of the bumbling idiot running it.

And in closing, rather than spending billions of dollars simplifying things, why don’t we invest that money in education…where people would end up being smart enough to figure it out for themselves! 

The Decline of Feminine Civilization – Part 2

The Decline of Feminine Civilization

 

Part 2

 

First off, thank you to all the people that have commented. As expected, the men feel that I am being completely ridiculous. Maybe I am indeed missing the….I should put on makeup and slutty clothes so that the all superior men can ogle me….gene.

 

For the women that responded…thank you! I knew I wasn’t the only one that felt this way. And I appreciate you putting your necks on the chopping block to support me, especially when I’m half expecting the boys to come back with some lame excuse.

 

Now…I don’t hate all men. As some responses have proved, there are still good men out there. I hate the men that feel that women somehow OWE them something. Because somewhere deep down inside, they still believe they are the superior sex. I laugh at that. Until they can give birth and experience real pain…without crying home to mommy….they’re not even in the race.

 

There was once a very fascinating thing I read about how women get put into refrigerators to make their male counterparts seem all the more important. For those that don’t know what that means, it basically means that women are giving the supporting role of damsel in distress just so that their male counterpart can play the role of big hero.

 

In addition, powerful women are often shown to be stripped of that power, because they pose a threat to the all male ideal. And while my first part was all about how this effects the comic book industry, this part expands it for movies and television.

 

I’m sure a lot of you saw the re-make of “The Stepford Wives”. We start off with Nicole Kidman being a powerful and successful woman that earns more money and respect than her husband. But that quickly goes down the toilet…because c’mon…who wants to watch that movie? In fact, it shows subconsciously that men want to not only control their wives, but also have complete say in every aspect of their lives.

 

How many women out there have been told not to cut their hair by their S/O? Or what to wear? It is because men feel this impulse to try to be more important in our lives than we want them to be. No man would ever tell me how to cut my hair unless he was Fabio. Because I’d have to listen to a man that has better hair than myself. But these men with these ultra-short, whiffle cuts should keep their mouths quiet and be thankful that WE want to be seen in public with THEM.

 

Maybe we should start telling them that WE like long hair in men. I mean, how many would actually listen? Or do anything about it? Maybe we should tell them that they look like concentration camp survivors with their heads shaved. Or maybe perhaps all that gel they use in their hair to make it rock hard is an overcompensation for other parts of their bodies?

 

And how many times on a television show is the female character there only there to be a love interest for the male lead? Very few stories focus on JUST her. Because for some reason…men sell television and movies. Don’t ask me why. I don’t have all the answers.

 

They say sex sells and boobs are a goldmine. Men want women to have their breasts enlarged. Here’s a newsflash boys. Time to turn the tables on you. From now on ladies….if a man ever says that to you…tell him you want his scrotum enlarged. Yep. Tell him you want giant double “D” sized nuts hanging from his groin, smacking against his knees. Maybe then they will realize how silly a surgery such as that really is.

 

So women….be comfortable in your own skin. Have that piece of chocolate cake. Enjoy that ice cream. Because you know what…there are a few good men left out there that will appreciate your inner beauty. Your sense of humor. Your good heart. And for all those trolls along the way…don’t hold back. Tell them what you really think of them, since they are most likely the first to take a metal spike to your self esteem.

Fan Fiction

It has been a year now.  One long and experimental year.  It started when I picked up Infinite Crisis #1.  I hated it.  Actually, I don’t think that there is a word strong enough to describe how I felt about it.  I understand that some people adored the story.  Good for them.  This rant isn’t about whether or not it was a good story.

I honestly thought that comics were going down the crapper because of these huge, megacrossover, universe altering events.  I also thought that I could take these beloved characters that I have loved for so long and write them better.  So I did.

Last October I launched a fan fiction site.  It started with three measly titles, all Batman centric.  Then it blossomed as more and more people shared my beliefs and views towards the comic book companies.  People wanted comics to be fun again.  To be able to read an issue and actually know the characters that were in it.  Not to have to Wikipedia a name to realize that the character existed fifty years ago and was brought back as a cop out.

So it’s been a year and the site has grown by leaps and bounds.  Fifteen titles all monthly now grace the site, along with some wonderful art done by the members of the site.  I had to cap the membership to keep the site intimate and small.  I didn’t want thousands of members that I didn’t know.  I wanted everyone to feel comfortable in posting and I really wanted people that shared the same beliefs as myself.

So why I am tooting my own horn you may ask.  Because after deleting some inactive accounts, I’ve opened up some room in my memberships.  It is a free signup for anyone over the age of 13.  We have writers and artists and just random members that believe that comic stories should be for all ages and fun.

The universe is completely original, formulated from scratch, and we don’t tell retreads of comic book stories.  We have, and always will, pride ourselves on our originality.  In taking beloved characters and making them what we feel they should be.  So if any of this interests you, or you feel like there is something you could offer us, I invite you to join.

You can find the links in my blogroll.  We have a DC and a Marvel site, so please sign up to either, or both independantly.  I look forward to meeting more talented people in the future.

The Decline of Feminine Civilization

The Decline of Feminine Civilization

 

Part 1

Why is it that when a woman walks down the street wearing a skirt, men feel it is all right to whistle? Ogle? Cat call? Is there a sign on our foreheads that says ‘fresh meat?’ Or can we for once go to the beach and enjoy the day without having to worry about horny young men waiting for our bikini tops to fall off?

 

I doubt it.

 

Women don’t treat men like that. Many times I’ve seen a good looking guy with a tight pair of jeans walk by me. Never have I screamed out anything disrespectful. Ok…there was that once when I had way too much tequila. But still….

In a country that supports equal rights and all that jazz for both sexes, can someone please explain to me while men are studs, and women objects of desire?

Sure. Everyone has fantasized about a movie star. I think I’ve had sex with Johnny Depp about a dozen times now. That’s been my little secret. Well until now.

But it pisses me off to no end when men feel the need to post sexist and irrational fantasies for the whole world to see. Don’t believe me? Go through myspace.com and see some of the absolute morons that finally climbed out of Mommy’s basement and got their hands on a keyboard.

They take strong and powerful women of all genres and turn them into their own little sexual fantasies. I’ll give you an example, coming straight from the pages of the most male, chauvinistic pig I know.

He believes he is Spiderman. Yep. The big ol’ web head himself. And quoted directly from his myspace page….

I know I’ve had a good night rescuing you good citizens when I get home and she’s all dressed up as Wonder woman and in a sexy purr says. “Come here big boy I need my lasso”.

 

Then I know when I’ve been a really good boy when my girl’s best friend comes over dressed as ROGUE and joins in on the fun.

 

Let’s examine this for a moment shall we? Let’s start with Wonder Woman. Besides the fact that she is a beautiful woman, she has the strength that almost rivals Superman. And her choice of heroes ready and willing to be at her beckon call.

She doesn’t want some delusional shmuck that sits there with a comic book and a Kleenex and fantasizes about her in her little star panties.

And Rogue? Sorry dude. Buy some back issues. If you even attempted to touch her she would either break your bones, or suck the life clear out of you. And not in that super erotic fantasy way you think.

 

So stop taking this sacred, powerful, beautiful, role model women and turning them into a sexual perversion. Not only is it sick….it really does show the world that you are nothing more than a man that thinks he is god’s gift to women.

You are nothing more than a boy…that needs to actually have a strong and powerful woman kick you in the groin, for you to understand that yes….we can win in a fight. And yes…we have skills, brains and looks. But we are not put on this earth to be a fanboy’s fantasy.

So here is a word of advice for the owner of this myspace page. Grow up. Learn how to respect women. For without them, you would still be a gleam in some other male chauvinistic man’s eyes.

 

 

Do You Feel Lucky? Punk.

I have bad luck.  Some people have really good luck.  I’ve been to the casino and watched the old lady next to me hit two jackpots in a row.  Meanwhile, a hundred dollars later, I was sticking my last quarter into the slot machine.

 

If I spend ten dollars on scratch tickets, I lose the ten dollars.  I don’t even get one of them back.  Forget the lottery….those odds are even worse.

 It’s been like this my whole life.  I don’t bother entering sweepstakes.  I don’t count on winning the lottery.  I just know that I have bad luck.  Nothing I can do about it.  Or is there?

 Which brings me to the point.  What is luck?  Is it some magical karma that a person is born with?  Is it the astrological alignment of planets based on your zodiac sign?  Surf the internet and you will find a million definitions.  Anything from extraordinary to literal.  Luck is simply something that has to do with probability.  And yet how can a person change that?  Is it even possible?

 The more times you enter a sweepstakes the better chance you have of winning right?  But what if every person enters more than once?  Do your odds change?  Lessen?  Is it even worth the effort?

It can’t be anything simple….or else everyone would change their luck.  It has to be some complex thing that the human mind can’t really comprehend.  I’m convinced of it. 

Boobs….yes Boobs!

Boobs. Knockers. Gazungas. Hooters. Breasts. Tits. Or any number of a hundred other words for the pair of mammary organs that a woman possesses. But how big is too big?

 

Sure men love them huge. Maybe it is the little boys inside of them that just want to see women bounce up and down and so they can sit around with their friends and giggle hysterically, while the woman nearly gets a black eye….taken out by her own boob.

 

Or maybe it is a fantasy thing. Men want women with huge breasts so they can do all sorts of obscene things to them. Use them as pillows, fondle them…etc.

 

Artists feel the need to draw them in epic proportions. Look no further than comic books. These super heroines are so lopsided, I’m surprised they don’t fall forwards. Don’t believe me? Look no further than Power Girl. That girl could single handedly ensure the Titanic stayed afloat with her floatation devices.

 

 

 

 

So I ask you. What if women put the same important on size for you men? What if the men with “flat fronts” didn’t even get a second look. What if upon disrobing, the woman laughed and asked if those are pistachios in your pants and a twizzler? Would you enjoy that? Doubtful. What if women only went out with men that wore a size Large jockstrap. Where would that leave 90% of the male population? That’s right….sitting around reading comic books, and fantasizing about big boobs.

 

And if size suddenly became proportional to intelligence, why do I have the feeling that men would be walking around like those shrunken heads? While women would suddenly be Klingons.

 

Surely this does not go for all men. Only the ones that feel their own inadequacies, and the need to fantasize about women who will never give them the time of day.

 

My advice. Grow up, and look at people for more than just their physical appearance. You may be amazed with what is actually inside their heads and hearts. And never forget that size and beauty can go both ways. Let’s just hope that women never stoop to a man’s level of beauty. Or else most guys out there…will become familiar with Rosey Palmer and her five sisters.

Attitude Problem

I don’t have an attitude problem. You have a perception problem.

 

Truer words have never been spoken.  Each time I encounter someone with a perceived attitude problem, I find myself realizing that maybe indeed it is with a valid reason.

 

How many times have I gone to get coffee only to have my order screwed up.  Too many.  Milk no sugar.  You would think I was trying to explain Einstein’s theory of relativity. 

 

Then again, I should expect it.  People that don’t speak English shouldn’t be allowed to work in an environment where their whole damn job revolves around being able to understand someone and fill an order competently. 

 

We have to all speak English.  So shouldn’t they.  It should be a prerequisite to get a job.  Actually being able to do it.  Novel idea huh?

 

But where was I…..Oh yeah.  Attitudes.  So after I give the girl behind the counter a piece of my English speaking mind, I realize she simply shrugged me off, much like I’m sure every other person whose order she screwed up.

 

It didn’t phase her at all that I had just paid $1.89 for absolute crap that I wasn’t going to drink.  Nope.  It didn’t come out of her little tip jar.  But it should.  I think any food/beverage service person that screws up your order should have that amount deducted from their overall tips.  It’s costing the company money.  It’s pissing off the customers, and it’s making work unpleasant.

 

Don’t mind me, I’m like a ferret and get distracted and thrown off point far too easily.

 

Then again, back to the point at hand.  Maybe she had an attitude.  Maybe it was because she couldn’t adequately make a cup of damn coffee.  Maybe she hated her job and wished she was back in whatever country she originated from.  Or maybe…just maybe….I perceived things wrong.

 

I highly doubt it.  She had the attitude.  I ensured she had an attitude.  I pushed that big red shiny attitude button.  And do you know why???  Because I am sick and tired of people that don’t speak the damn language put in jobs where they are supposed to! 

 

So the next time you perceive that I have an attitude problem…think again.  It is probably you that are the cause of it. 

Rain, Rain Go Away!

I’m not a religious person.  I never have been.  But I’m seriously thinking about building an ark.  Just like Noah.  All this rain has really got me thinking about it.  Every weekend…..rain.  Every day…..rain.  Thunderstorms and downpours. 

 

It never fails to destroy any plans I make for the weekend.  My son is going stir crazy from being cooped up inside the house.  And that’s not even the worst part.  The worst part is it is so hot and humid, even with the rain.  Thunderstorms….mean no Air conditioning.  I’m crazy….not sadistic.  With my luck it’ll just get hit by lightning and all of a sudden I’m out of a home. 

 

So my only alternative is to build an ark.  Nothing fancy.  Just something that will float in all this rain.  I’ve even decided that I will only take two animals with me.  Alpacas.  Don’t laugh.  Ever seen an alpaca?  Sure they look like the rejected children of llamas and camels.  And yeah….they are pretty stupid.  But that’s all part of their charm.

 

So I’m trying to convince my friend Lise to go and steal one from an upcoming show that’s only about 20 minutes from her house.  After all, Alpacas love to ride in a minivan.  But I don’t think she’s going to do it.  An Alpaca isn’t an easy thing to steal.  Especially since they make noise.  A WARK sound.  WARK!

 

So yeah….  It’d be a few of us on the ark and some alpacas.  Maybe we’ll find some exotic location where gas isn’t quite as expensive as it is here.  Maybe a country that is run by competent people.  A place where morality is high and murder rates are low.

 

So yeah….I’m building my ark. 

 

Oh yeah… P.S.

 

Don’t leave me comments about religion of politics.  If you have nothing better to do than bitch about my blog then go and plant a damn tree so I’ll have more wood to build my ark from.

The Evils of Dragons!

Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons because, to them, you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.

You would think that is good advice wouldn’t you? Yep. Most of us would. I mean how many times have we really ran into dragons other than just in our own little warped fantasies. And most of those dragons are nice ones. They let you pet them on the head, while the coo and snuggle up next to you. Admit it!!

But it’s apparent that not everyone likes dragons.  Some people think the poor creatures want to eat you.  With ketchup nonetheless!  Sure, would we be crunchy if barbequed correctly?  Absolutely.  But with ketchup?  Hardly likely.  I don’t think the evil fire breathing creatures carry a bottle of Heinz with them at all times.

And for the record.  If I’m walking through some forest somewhere in fantasy land, I’d be sure that I had a big ass sword.  Not just to slay dragons.  But to fight off the three headed dogs, Loch Ness Monster, and maybe even Medusa herself.  Plus it’d be my damn fantasy, so the dragon would roll over and allow me to scratch it’s belly before I drove my big ass sword through it’s throat.

So in closing, don’t fear dragons.  Dragons can be your friends.  They can even be cute and cuddly.  But always be prepared with a big sword and lots of courage to face them.