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Boy Scout Earns "Social Disease" Merit Badge
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3/28/2006
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This just in- Stupid people everywhere are outraged at a ruling that gives Florida teacher Debra Lafave no prison time for having sex with a 14 year old student, claiming that had it been a male teacher and female student, there would be some serious years being served.
This makes perfect sense to me and I'm not at all upset that she only got house arrest. I'll explain why:
Exhibit a) Hot=Crazy:
When I was 14, my teachers looked like this-
Holidaysweaterfetish.com is the only porn site that does not exist, and that is because the festive vests have never been any part of a sexual fantasy by anyone anywhere, nor have the people who wear them. I looked at my teachers the same way a high school cheerleader looks at me today- human, but barely.
This kid's teacher looks like this-
Not perfect, but a solid 8.5, and holy crap at age 14 she would have filled the spank bank with naughty bath time fun. She qualifies as hot, and Universal Truth #9 states that she is therefore as crazy as a craphouse rat. If you are a hot girl who isn't crazy: you either aren't as hot as you think you are, or a hell of a lot crazier.
Does anyone think she could not have gone to any bar in Florida and walked out with a dude or two? Does anyone think that she was looking for the kind of security that only a teenager's $5 per hour job at the pet store could provide? Was she doing it to make her rich, good looking husband feel jealous? Okay, I guess you would get a little crap from your friends if your wife left you for a boy scout, but that's not the point.
When an attractive young woman decides to risk her career and her marriage to nail a kid, she is doing it because she is nuts. When a man decides to do the same thing, he is doing it because he is a perverted dangerous fuck. When is the last time you heard of a woman going to playgrounds and serially raping boys? Never? Never ever? This chick did something illegal and should be punished, but she's wacko, not predatory. It's probably good that the kid learns the hot/crazy ratio early.
Exhibit b) 14 year old boys are horny. 14 year old girls, not so much.
When I was fourteen I got an erection that didn't go away until three weeks ago. At that age I and all of my friends were complete hounds, passing around the same ratty 1983 copy of playboy, consumed by the thought of someday having actual sex with a girl who didn't have staples across her legs. Had we even thought of the possibility that Mrs. Lafave wanted to take one of us home for spawning practice, we would have trampled each other to death trying to get into her car.
Now turn that around- A 14 year old girl finds out that history teacher Mr. Gakington wants to do the bonedance with her. I wouldn't expect any enthusiasm unless she spent most of her youth making out with her father. If girls were horny when I was 14, they did a magnificent job of hiding it from me. They still do, come to think of it.
It could be argued that this experience will cause an emotional scar in the boy that will manifest itself in hypersexuality as he gets older, making him completely indistinguishable from every other male between the ages of 13 and 27 ½. Oh the horror.
It could also be argued (by a retarded person) that Lafave manipulated the poor child into having sex with her. Ignoring the fact that it would take about as much manipulation to get a 14 year old boy to nail a hot teacher as it would take to get me to draw my next breath, if it is a crime for attractive women to manipulate dudes, you are all going to superjail forever.
If any harm was done here, it was done by the media whores who were so enthralled by the fact that someone who was pretty and white was involved in something bad. Is that a racist and untrue statement? I have one word for you-
Scottpetersonrunawaybridenataliehollowayandreayateselizabethsmartmichaeljackson
susansmithcarliebruschianeilentwistlejonbenetramseykarabethbordennancykerrigan
marykayletourneauyougetthepoint
Okay, Michael Jackson isn't pretty, but you understand- either white people are entirely more depraved than any other race, or a Japanese guy eating his own child's face isn't newsworthy. The kid in this case stands to become more messed up by being followed around by a bunch of douchebags (until he is old enough to legally harass) than by drilling his teacher.
So yes, I suppose you can call it a double standard, but it makes sense to me. Besides, if she understood that a woman's place is in the home in the first place, none of this ever would have happened.
Yes, I'm kidding, but only about that last sentence.
 Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 3:27 PM |
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No Bar Like a Redneck Karaoke Bar
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3/21/2006
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L.T. Magoo's is a hole in the wall karaoke bar somewhere north of the perimeter. So it might be in Vermont or Canada. I'm not familiar with the area. Against my better judgment I went with The Skirt and some of our friends to rock the proverbial house on Saturday night. I can't resist making an ass of myself in front of a crowd.
One of her friends is a psychologist or something, and my interpretation of what she told me about this tendency is that somewhere between histrionic, delusional, and narcissistic is a place I like to call "fucking awesome."
We anticipated mullets, tight Wrangler jeans, moustaches, and NASCAR shirts all over the joint, so we agreed ahead of time not to poke fun at that which we do not understand (lest we get our asses handed to us in a bar fight). We hadn't been there half an hour before a lady wearing a fluffy blouse and white silk gloves walked around with a basket full of roses and beanie babies- and they could all be ours...for a price.
There's more than one way to tell you are in a classy joint, you know.
A guy we didn't know bought a rose for each of the girls at our table, and I thought that was nice of him. He then got on stage and dedicated a country song to them, opening with, "This one is for the ladies with the roses. And as for the guys who are with them, well, you should have thought of it first." I shook my fist at him and said "curses" in an effort to appear bested.
Two thoughts I had:
1. Why should I shell out $20 for five dead flowers when a complete stranger will do it?
2. Was I just called into question by a guy who could use his belt buckle to communicate with extra-terrestrials?
As the night and the beer went on, I noticed some interesting things about the karaoke phenomenon-
Each table in the place had groups of people singing (at the top of their lungs) along with all of the songs being sung by the sufficiently drunk. They all say "Awww…That was the song I wanted to sing" as if they had the nerve to get up and actually do it. This, along with pitchers of anti-inhibition was their way of warming up for their own public debut.
If you can't sing (i.e. the author of this blog), you had better be able to put on a hell of a show. People would rather see you scream the wrong notes and dance around like a moron than watch you keep walking over to your friends trying to hand off the mic while looking embarrassed.
Everybody shows their nerves in a different way. When I did improv I used to rock back and forth and say stuff that wasn't funny. I define that as "nerves", more so than "being a crappy improviser". In the karaoke situation, some people lock eyes with the monitor and sway while they sing too softly, some laugh, and one guy fiddled with the microphone stand to the point that he would forget to sing.
Then the announcer called my name. I had been sitting quietly until this point, but now it was time to blow the collective ass out of the place. I wasn't allowed to sing the first song I chose because of decency laws or the Geneva Convention or something, so I settled for "Wonderboy", by Tenacious D.
Between my dulcet tones and the interpretive dance number I pulled off during the musical interlude, every living thing within a three mile radius had several orgasms. Weather patterns even shifted slightly to reflect the new force of nature at L.T. Magoo's. That's just how hard I rock.
Then Cale (He's one of our gay dudes- when you move inside the city limits of Atlanta, you are assigned one or two to remind you about things like your girlfriend's birthday, which bars and restaurants suck, and when you need new shoes or a haircut. Quite handy, actually) had to get up and sing a couple of songs to illustrate that he is both funnier and a better singer than I. A rumor started flying around the bar that one of the waitresses took a guy in the bathroom and had sex with him. I give full credit to Cale's rendition of "Save a Bull, Ride a Cowboy".
If you're getting bored with the standard weekend with your pals, change the scenery a little. It gives you something new to talk about, and NASCAR fans are not as mean as they look. They'll even buy your girlfriend a flower.
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 8:12 PM |
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Pretend You're Doctor Phil and Help me Out
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3/14/2006
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My Girlfriend and I have been together for almost a year, and we have never had an argument. I don't chalk this anomaly up to my being extremely easy to get along with, because I'm not- I am really sort of a cynical asshole with a heart of gold colored alloy electroplate. I attribute our lack of conflict to several things:
- Neither of us really sees the point in yelling at people. Personally, if I think you are stupid enough to warrant yelling at, I'd just as soon spend the energy willing you to die.
- We both have pretty high stress jobs, so we get enough drama out of day-to-day that we don't need to invent more in our down time.
- She is very logical for a woman. She doesn't react irrationally, and therefore doesn't get ignored for being crazy. Ladies, if you ever wonder why your boyfriend/husband doesn't seem to take your opinions into account, it is not because he thinks you are stupid. It is because he thinks you are insane. Try offering a well thought-out opinion without screaming or crying; you will find it quite effective.
- I understand that if she thinks she is right about something and is willing to voice it, she has thought about it and is probably right.
- She can take a punch. A lot of arguing could be avoided if people would just punch each other more often.
We disagree about little things, but it is more humorous than contentious. I think it would be interesting to see where you, fair readers, fall on our differences. I haven't asked her whether or not she would mind my publicizing our dialogue, so maybe this is a bad idea. Never stopped me before -
1. Does vacuuming, cleaning the stovetop, folding clothes, and wiping down all kitchen surfaces with antibacterial cleanser constitute "cleaning" if it all only takes 20 minutes?
2. Should Blue Collar Comedy fans be tortured, or simply euthanized?
3. Will the type of awesome shirts worn by the walking scroti in the picture below ever be laughed at as pathetically out of style? I'm talking about the shirts. Ignore the taintlicks who are wearing them and the fact that their collars are faggily tussled.
"I want a haircut that will make me look like a frightened cartoon of myself."
3a. What about those sassy jeans with the faded marks on the front of the legs? Will they go the way of the acid wash?
4. Should eating an alternative meat like bison or ostrich be considered gross?
4a. Should people who refuse to eat those foods be cast out of society?
5. Did God also create Adam and Steve? Maybe they just fixed up their corner of the Garden of Eden and lived quietly and happily in a craftsman-style bungalow with a small dog named Pickles.
7. Is NASCAR a sport?
7a. If so, why isn't there a car-steering machine at the gym?
8. Do babies really need to be fed every day, or are they maybe just a little too self-important?
9. Was the movie "Napoleon Dynamite" funny?
10. Do things cook faster if you turn the stovetop to a higher temperature?
My thanks in advance for your help in putting these issues to rest.
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 3:44 PM |
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Wanna Play a Drinking game? Douchebag.
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3/07/2006
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I must have missed the part of growing up where it was fun to make drinking into a kind of competition where the goal was to lose.
If you have to play a game to get drunk, then you aren't someone I want to drink with. Here's my favorite drinking game- buy beer and call some friends. Whee. Everybody wins.
The next time someone says, "We got together and played fuckslap (or whatever great name their game has)", ask them who won. They won't know. The object is to drink until you don't care. That must be the other part I missed out on- the part where you go buy alcohol and consume it for the sole purpose of getting as wasted as possible. That sort of thing is supposed to be a by-product of having a good time.
Categorizing drinking games is easy enough:
Basic, emergency-room-with-alcohol-poisoning type games- "Watch a movie and drink every time someone swears", for instance. Everyone drinks at a violent pace- ending in tears, fights, and an investigative report with Greta Van Susteren because someone disappeared and no one has any idea what happened to them. These kinds of games are popular at fraternity houses because nothing has to be explained and the sorority girls get drunk enough to forget the definition of assault.
Okay...now watch TV, and every time Tom Cruise does something gay, you have to take a shot. We only have three bottles of tequila, so we'll set the time limit at one minute.
The next level of complexity is the stupid bounce-this-object-into-that-vessel game. Quarters, Beer Pong, Catpitch, and Frisbeer are a few I have witnessed. Don't ask me the rules because I don't know. I was the guy off to the side watching people actually get angry because they are too competitive to enjoy a beer without a points system.
That's not how it's played, dipshit. You got a double, and she has to draw a card. I swear, if you guys don't learn how to play, I'm going to put my shirt back on.
A subcategory of this type of game is any drinking game that includes firearms, knives, or combustible fluids- the after-school-special category. These games usually involve lots of pain- you have to let someone hit you in the spine with a hammer and then you all drink until someone ends up driving a special van with mouth controls.
Hahaha.. DRINK!
Then there are the games people invent and try to teach you as if it will grant you some kind of marketable skill. You can identify this kind of game when you walk into someone's house and there are seven blenders, a frozen goldfish, a huge pyramid made of plastic cups, a slip n' slide, and everyone is wearing traditional Polynesian formal wear.
"DOOOD! Have you ever played Fistmaster?!"
(everybody in the room screams "FISTMASTER", does the salute and downs a shot of Jack Daniels because that's one of the rules)
"err...no."
"This game is AWESOME. *hands you a rulebook to read* We made it up in college."
After you subdue the swine and complete the chainsaw dance, jam as many jellybeans up your ass as possible and run the obstacle course. Dropped jellybeans must be moved back to the starting line without using your hands.
Here's a drinking game for you: How about I give you $5 and you let me have a beer without sacrificing my dignity?
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 5:08 PM |
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