(He’s upset because of his inclusion in an unsavory joke in paragraph 4 or 5.)

I try to be mature, man, I do. I want to be a respectable adult about things. I got me a real adult style job, a wife, I haven’t been homeless for more than, say, a week cumulative since I got out of the most irresponsible daycare in the world, Hofstra. Whenever possible I vote and campaign for equal rights for all people, and point out the hypocrisy and ignorance in most forms of prejudice from whatever pulpit is provided me. And then this shit happens, not once, but twice in a week, and i have the urge to buy a box of Mott’s apple juice so I can blow the whole thing out my nose in a Chuck E Cheese ball pit. Sometimes my life feels like a Frosted Mini-Wheats commercial from the ’80s, except the transformation from adult to child is involuntary, painful, and not a little shameful. Does that turn you on, baby? What will it take to make you love me?

To the author of 'My Life... With a Smile.': I stole a picture of your kid for this. That's what you get for having a blog about your 7 kids and the vag cancer they gave you.

Anyway, I want everyone to know I am not the villain here. It’s not my fault that these headlines all found me in the course of a week, but I feel like I’d be depriving you if I didn’t share. From the prim, proper, full windsor BBC:

Family of Faggot Fans Fly the Flag

Nice alliteration! I have been operating under the assumption that English people couldn’t speak English anymore. I am going to be so disappointed if said flag isn’t doily. This kind of takes the wind out of the hysterical sails, but a case can be made that this is Britain, and they have different definitions for all kinds of things, like “food” and “sports.” You may think that, in Britain, a ‘faggot’ refers only to a bundle of sticks, but it turns out it can really refer to almost anything. A red pencil is also a faggot, as is a domed building, an unplugged coffee maker, and a tin awning, but only the top part. But the definition in question, the thing that brings this family together in perhaps the lamest form of activism man has conceived since “lactivism” (that’s a real thing, FSM preserve us), reports that a faggot is “pork liver served with mushy peas,” which frankly sounds grosser than lactivism and what our definitions do in the bedroom.*

Listen, just because your word means something different from ours, there is no way you are unaware how the less desirables in American society use it. I know that’s what the word means and all, and you’re not going to start changing the way you use your own language, even if we go out of our way to set a better example for you. But you could have avoided making the headline so funny. Now I feel like a fifth grader. Was that your plan? Are you amused by this?

Her husband Fred added: “It’s unfair because faggots were a British delicacy long before any of the others. The great British faggot is full of flavour and a great belly warmer at this time of year.”

Now I know you’re doing it on purpose! Covering up your motivations by peppering the article with cute little bits of information isn’t fooling anyone, either. “Faggots were called Savory Ducks in the middle ages.” And then was changed in the 1980s to make future twenty-something bloggers look like insensitive, sophomoric pricks. You think I don’t know you neglected to print the snickers Freddy-boy threw in after every other word in that quote? We took the ‘u’ out of ‘flavor’ like a century and a half ago, too. Now all I can imagine is some mutton-chopped pantywaist with a monocle named Balthazar Wraithwright Swineroarer III, poetically discussing his personalized method for ’savouring’ his poolboy’s used thongs when he ruffles through the hamper. “Holding the bright green garment no less than fourty centimeters from my nose, inhaling the summer odours of  exhibitionism and a solid day’s work, and the rolling slowly across my olfactory gland tannins of the glass of sherry I ‘mistakenly’ spilt on him…” Shame on you, Britain. I can push from my head the image of Zombie Gary Coleman raping the corpse of Phil Hartman with the business end of a Bowie knife, but I can’t unimagine that. We should have let the Germans raze London to the ground. Hell, if we’d known you were going to grow up to be such creeps, we would have helped.

The DOODY FAMILY? Really? Am I being punked by Monty Python?

And they have sashes? The Doody Family has Sashes with the colors of Nathan’s Hot Dogs, that say Faggot Family? What’s the score here? Did you guys at the BBC get ahold of, like, an American Slang Book and a bajillion ounces of weed? Are you all having a bloody good laugh at our expense? Are the Scottish in on it? I wouldn’t be surprised.

Dude, fuck this shit. From now on I’m reading American papers, ones not written by prepubescent gingers looking forward to their first boners. Let’s see if reliable old Reuters US has anything close to the efficient journalistic integrity we’ve come to expect sine Walter Cronkite invented news.

Tired Gay Succumbs to Dix in 200 Meters

Oh, just come right the hell on! Is there an editors’ strike I’m not aware of? I’ll not have the noble and ancient sport of tack’n'field besmirched with the dick jokes of a failed high school jock turned sports writer (exception: any testicle injury involving a hurdle; you’re just asking for an orange peeling, jumping with spread legs over heavy barriers). There is no good goddamned way the author of this article didn’t know what was going on here. I’m sure the story was relevant relevant enough to keep it from the cutting room floor entirely, but English is the most complex modern language. You could vary up the wording a bit. “Walter Dix Wins 200 Meter,” would work, at least for a headline. The relative subtlety of “Saw That Coming” would at least allow you to relegate the childishness to the body of the text. Either way, it’s going to be a long time until you reach the BBC’s level of mastery: “Dix’ Delight in Demolishing Drowsy Doughnut Damager.” My resume is in the mail, you pompous limey quims.

Next in the 'Pictures as Metaphors' lecture: "RUN!"

“It wasn’t bad, but I was a little fatigued toward the end,” Gay said. “I tried to stay relaxed and bring it home, but it wasn’t enough.”

Bad form, dude. Going to Prison 101: relax. You want to explain to the doctor how you got pink-socked because you couldn’t help clamping down like a rookie? Someone hasn’t been doing their stretches.

Let’s get our shit together, media. I don’t read the news so I can think about pink socks. I really don’t do anything with that expressed purpose. It would be cool if, say, a Hostess Snack Cake reminded me of a visual representation of an unfortunate side effect of buggery, or an unfortunately shaped kite, but two of the most trusted news providers in the world? That’s just ghey.

* Oh, don’t get all pissy, I’m allowed to find gay sex a little icky. Some of you find vagina gross, so I think we can let this slide. Also, aren’t you having fun seeing how many times I can use the F-word in an article without once using it personally in reference to fudge packers?

PS: On a serious note, after the jump you’ll find links to charities promoting civil rights, education and open discussion, etc. Because, to paraphrase Matt & Trey, everything is fodder for comedy or nothing is, even my bogus brand of low-brow. Exposing the inherent insanity of the bigoted and ignorant at the expense of the writer’s self-respect is totally worth the cover charge. At the same time, awareness, empathy, and progress are what makes comedy possible, so give them a click if you feel as dirty after reading SBS as we do after writing it.

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By Sean Torrie

(The bespectacled, unwitting victim to Apple’s evil plot. You wouldn’t hit a man with glasses, would you, Mr. Jobs?)

Have I got a conspiracy for YOU!

I’ve got a buddy of mine that I like to… let’s just say promote the mental instability of. As a running gag. He’s a bit of a conspiracy nut, so every so often I’ll find something a little conspiratorial and send it his way. By the time I finished sending it, I realized this might be something worth sending to everyone on this fine, and upstanding website.

Let me start by saying that store cards, not the credit cards, but the members cards, have always struck me as mighty creepy, and underhandedly Orwellian. You need them in order to get your discounts at your local drug store, supermarket, pet supplies store, etc., and without them you end up paying more than you need to. Once you get one though, they expect you to fill it out, and it’s true when they say your private information won’t be given out. What is shared elsewhere is your age/sex/income/ethnicity/family statistics, coupled with your purchasing statistics in order to brew it into a nice formula for how to advertise to you, to make sure you go where the advertisers want you to be. I’d like to say that this is all part of an elaborate scheme to create a perpetual energy device by putting conductors over the grave of George Orwell, in order to pull in all the energy being created by his corpse spinning, but I sincerely doubt it.

When I found this initial article, just rummaging through one of my favorite game sites I got a little uncomfortable. (And here, here, and here)

Go ahead and read the articles, but the short of it is, Apple wasn’t (it’s since changed after the last link) accepting paper money for their ipads (the same policy applied, for some time, to the iphone). The singular purpose was to track who buys them. That is to say: not theoretically track who might or might not buy one, but to actually track and limit the number that a single person could buy! How’s that conductor over Orwell’s grave sound now? Cuz I’ve got a feeling we’ll be pulling more energy out of that British plot than we lost per day out of the Gulf of Mexico last week.

Now, I’ve openly not been a fan of Apple for a while now. It was when they switched over from the underdog company that had to sell their wares to schools who wanted discounts for the bulk purchase of computers that had no place in the professional world, but could still claim they were teaching your kids how to use one; to the Imac. The same way we claim that gym class enforces healthy activity, and isn’t a device to employ people who just couldn’t cut it at a real job, and felt that the space that could occupy 6 classrooms would be better used for playing with balls (insert priest joke here).

I remember seeing the Imac as a great big “HI! So you are openly computer retarded, and too lazy to learn new things, but still want to feel like you’re keeping up with the late 90s, try this out!” The Ipod followed, and I’ll admit it was a great idea then, but I can also recall a sensation of, “Gosh, that’s an awful lot of money for something electronic that doesn’t have buttons.”

It was in the early 2000s (did we ever come up with a name we all agreed on for this decade?), when Apple started to collect a new generation of following that wasn’t computer elitists who preferred a pure, underdog system, and mutated into hipsters who wanted, what was now, a fashion accessory, that I got turned off. I don’t know about you, but Ipod Minis looked an awful lot like Tamagotchi for teenagers. It doesn’t take much to turn me off of something popular. What can I say? I’m a rebel. I ride into the sunset on my Harley after righting a wrong in a small town, not waiting for my reward, only content in knowing that I changed a corrupt status quo.

Apple continued to become more chic, and Microsoft released Vista. Apple quickly became more chic. I wasn’t terribly happy with that either.

It was when this ipad thing started getting whispers that I got kinda curious. I mean, the thing is right out of Star Trek: The Next Generation, the same way cell phones clearly evolved out of Gene Roddenberry’s wet-dream communicators from the original series. Of course, because the new target audience ceased being productivity-minded personal computer elitists and people who want expensive toys, that’s what they ended up selling, I lost interest pretty quickly after the initial demos. It was when I found these links, that I felt some things were worth pointing out.

These sales are said to limit the number that can be sent over seas, and this is, in my opinion, specifically because: the frightening and ever-powerful Euro that was certain to eliminate the Dollar and destroy the US is going down faster than a hooker on a Friday night who hasn’t had a fix in 5 hours and is shaking like Michael J Fox after drinking 5 Redbulls.

Check the 3rd link and the estimated price in Euros has jumped for the release date, that says to me that they’re very quietly getting ready for Europe to become a post-apocalyptic economic hellscape… That they’re still very willing to exploit while their money is still worth something, but they want to make sure they get the proper profit from their electronic-toy-seeking-public. I’m seeing Mad Max, mixed with Deep Space 9, but with more ethnic cleansing and overpriced Apple products.

Further more, I’m guessing this is being done to better track who does what on them, since with G3 on it, you’ll have internet access in all places, which is also why you need a physical, HOME, address in order to register it for internet use (which is it’s only real function, having no significant hard drive). Do keep in mind that this still only applies to US addresses, even if you ship one over seas, you won’t be able to use it unless your buddy allows you to borrow his home address. This way, when you look up those schematics for a nuclear weapon, they’ll know to at least raid someone’s house, even if it’s the wrong guy. This also applies now that they’ve revoked the new cash policy.

Suffice to say: once you buy your Ipad with cash, you’ll be required to register it to your home to do almost anything with it. One could argue that this is similar to owning a car, but I’ll counter argue that I can’t drive an ipad through a crowd of people at the mall parking lot, and drive away untraceable. Frankly it’s a step towards limiting the availability of information to people who use free wireless hotspots. I’m just simply not okay with anything that takes a step in a direction that limits what I’m allowed to anonymously know. If a guy wants to take a netbook into a dark secluded room, hook it up to free wireless, and do lewd things on Chatroulette, then he’d probably also like to do so without his netbook’s MAC address being linked right to his family’s home address. What his wife doesn’t know about his closeted sexual preferences can’t hurt her.

Besides, if you’re on Chatroulette, you should be completely ready to be seeing a lot of cock. It’s not like you weren’t made aware of the website specifically because of the ratio of man-parts.

I’m hereby changing my personal policy from not liking Apple, to outright renouncing it. Mr. Jobs, you’ve crossed a line. You’re no longer the struggling rebel alliance fighting for liberty in a free market that is greatly against you, you’re the high-fashion industry, controlling what people can do, and contorting the very nature of the free market, and for that matter, personal privacy.

You can manipulate the fools and computer illiterate into buying things they don’t need, that’s been going on for eons, but when you start tracking and controlling purchases, that’s when I’ve gotta step in and tell you to cut the crap. Don’t make me sick Zombie-Orwell on you.

(Eh, we should probably just let this one go. He’s going to be real disappointed when he gets out.)

So you say you want something even more stupidly polarizing than the newly announced Ipad release? You’re tired of hearing OS idealists, whose minds will never change, fight like girls, with one side saying, “OMG new Apple product, I hope I don’t piss myself in girlish glee,” and the other saying, “So I can insert my Ipod and my Iphone, how about my Inutsack?” while lewdly grabbing their crotches?* Do you just want to scream, “Then don’t fucking buy it!”? Or, “That sounds like an electronic panty-liner with headphones!”? Well here’s something you can’t avoid, because by law you are required to watch the Super Bowl, and the big game makes everything, even Dominos and beer that tastes like piss, as important as a yearly visit to the gynecologist.

The short of it is, Focus on the Family somehow gathered the 3 mil or so it takes to advertise on CBS during the Super Bowl, and used the opportunity to get Heisman Trophy winner Tim Tebow and his mom to talk for the duration of the ad about Focus’ pro-life message. Seems Tebow’s mother chose to give her son life in the face of some pretty tough odds, and as a result we have an guy who is over paid to play a game, so abortion is bad.  On the surface, it is a tad annoying that proselytizing is something you’d want to impose during the Super Bowl, but perfectly within the realm of allow-ability. Hey, they came up with the bones, and that seems to be enough for CBS, and therefore should be enough for the hundred bajillion people of all faiths and political ideologies that are going to be drinking heavily and getting really angry and competitive about things they see on television while watching the Super Bowl. Timothy McVeigh says, “Good idea.”

But if it were that easy, everybody could just relax, and we need to keep up our global lead on heart attacks and “having a cow.” The problem, according to the people who want the ad pulled, stems from a lack of precedent — indeed, a standing policy against — among those airing Super Bowls to allow commercial time to any political entity or advocacy group with nothing tangible to sell except their ability to whip their dicks out. They also like to throw around hyperbole and rhetoric like it’s food fight day at Tiger Woods’ sex rehab (I think I just grossed myself out). NARAL Pro-Choice America says:

Focus on the Family has an unmistakable anti-choice, anti-birth-control, anti-sex-education, anti-gay agenda. If that isn’t bad enough, its views on women are just plain insulting and dangerous. For example, its web site urges women facing an unintended pregnancy to seek “wise advice” because “the hormones and extreme emotions of pregnancy make reasonable decisions more difficult.”

Tell us how you really feel, NARAL. You’ve got the demonizing of the other side down pat, right down to the anti-buzzwords. After all “danger” is the number one cause of fear. But to truly be considered Hitler-esque, you should be more specific, like “Fetuses are taking over the banks.” And you might have to kill some bitches, though Christians already have you pegged for that. Oh, and that last bit, while probably a direct quote, was not given proper citation, so context goes the way of last night’s 3 pound burrito. No, you continue to be the spokespeople for that side of the debate. When someone on your side says, “Who died and made you advocate?” just say “Ted Kennedy.”

Read more ridiculousness after the jump.

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