Diary of an asshole

Former pitcher John Rocker, fresh off his "Speak English" campaign, is now threatening to write a book. That is, if the Jews will let him: Rockerj_1

I’ve got about 70 pages written. I’ve put it on hold for a bit until I find a publisher. When the deal is done, I’ll finish it up over the course of the next couple of months. That’s the thing, though: When people have an agenda, that’s all that matters. Jeff Pearlman is who he is: A liberal Jew from New York. He’s one of their own, who spent a couple of hours with me, pulled things out of context, and you’re trying to create a persona of an individual when you don’t know them.

Pearlman is the Sports Illustrated writer who dared quote Rocker when he went off on his infamous tirade:

Rocker imagined riding the city’s Number 7 subway train through Queens to Shea Stadium, "next to some kid with purple hair next to some queer with AIDS right next to some dude who just got out of jail for the fourth time right next to some 20-year-old mom with four kids. It’s depressing."

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Rocker added that, "The biggest thing I don’t like about New York are the foreigners. I’m not a very big fan of foreigners. You can walk an entire block in Times Square and not hear anybody speaking English. Asians and Koreans and Vietnamese and Indians and Russians and Spanish people and everything up there. How the hell did they get in this country?" He even referred to a black teammate (undoubtedly first baseman Randall Simon) as a “fat monkey”.

Help! My Mom’s a Fundamentalist Wacko!

Nothing like a little holiday indoctrination:

Katharine DeBrecht and Jim Hummel, the team that brought you the first two HELP! MOM! books—There are Liberals Under My Bed! and Hollywood’s in My Hamper! are back, with their funniest, most outrageous adventure yet. …

Help! Mom! The 9th Circuit Nabbed the Nativity

Johnny and Luke loved being in Miss Bardin’s third-grade class—especially at Christmas time, when the class put on its annual pageant, complete with a nativity scene and even an obliging donkey! But when Senator Weary, Al Snore, Congresswoman Clunkton and the whole 9th Circuit court show up demanding an end to the fun and festivities in the name of diversity, global warming and stinky French cheese, all is almost lost until Johnny, Luke and an unexpected hero armed with a mysterious piece of paper unite to save Christmas.

How to be the father of a straight son

Some advice to dads from fundamentalist James Dobson:

“[T]he boy’s father has to do his part. He needs to mirror and affirm his son’s maleness. He can play rough-and-tumble games with his son, in ways that are decidedly different from the games he would play with a little girl. He can help his son learn to throw and catch a ball. He can teach him to pound a square wooden peg into a square hole in a pegboard. He can even take his son with him into the shower, where the boy cannot help but notice that Dad has a penis, just like his, only bigger.”

Help! My Mom’s a Fundamentalist Wacko!

Nothing like a little holiday indoctrination:

Katharine DeBrecht and Jim Hummel, the team that brought you the first two HELP! MOM! books—There are Liberals Under My Bed! and Hollywood’s in My Hamper! are back, with their funniest, most outrageous adventure yet. …

Help! Mom! The 9th Circuit Nabbed the Nativity

Johnny and Luke loved being in Miss Bardin’s third-grade class—especially at Christmas time, when the class put on its annual pageant, complete with a nativity scene and even an obliging donkey! But when Senator Weary, Al Snore, Congresswoman Clunkton and the whole 9th Circuit court show up demanding an end to the fun and festivities in the name of diversity, global warming and stinky French cheese, all is almost lost until Johnny, Luke and an unexpected hero armed with a mysterious piece of paper unite to save Christmas.

How to be the father of a straight son

Some advice to dads from fundamentalist James Dobson:

"[T]he boy’s father has to do his part. He needs to mirror and affirm his son’s maleness. He can play rough-and-tumble games with his son, in ways that are decidedly different from the games he would play with a little girl. He can help his son learn to throw and catch a ball. He can teach him to pound a square wooden peg into a square hole in a pegboard. He can even take his son with him into the shower, where the boy cannot help but notice that Dad has a penis, just like his, only bigger."

Elvis is leaving the building

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Another Georgia institution is set to bid adieu.

Gainesville’s Lantern Inn, home of the best damn Elvis impersonator alive, is shutting its doors after 41 years of business.

I’m really bummed about this. I used to live just up the road from the Lantern; in fact, Mike Jones, aka Elvis, was our garbage man. I’ve eaten many meals there, and seeing “Elvis” and “Patsy Cline” live remains one of my favorite kitschy memories.

One way or another, I’ll be there Sunday, hopefully writing a worthwhile epitaph for the local organ.

In honor of Jones, enjoy the King.

Mahmoud and Mel

Someone’s sharing talking points:

(Source)

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad:

“Sixty million people died in the Second World War. World War II was a gigantic crime. We condemn it all. We are against bloodshed, regardless of whether a crime was committed against a Muslim or against a Christian or a Jew. But the question is: Why among these 60 million victims are only the Jews the center of attention?”

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Mel Gibson:

“I mean when the war was over they said it was 12 million. Then it was six. Now it’s four. I mean it’s that kind of numbers game. I mean war is horrible. The Second World War killed tens of millions of people. Some of them were Jews in concentration camps. Many people lost their lives. In the Ukraine, several million people starved to death between 1932 and 1933. During the last century 20 million people died in the Soviet Union. Okay? It’s horrible.”

Convert or die!

More fun with fundamentalists; now there’s a video game based on the popular “Left Behind” series of books:

In Left Behind, set in perfectly apocalyptic New York City, the Antichrist is personified by fictional Romanian Nicolae Carpathia, secretary-general of the United Nations and a People magazine “Sexiest Man Alive.”

Players can choose to join the Antichrist’s team, but of course they can never win on Carpathia’s side. The enemy team includes fictional rock stars and folks with Muslim-sounding names, while the righteous include gospel singers, missionaries, healers and medics. Every character comes with a life story.

Pull the string!

Malcontenter Al Kosa checks in with some suggestions for aspiring profiteers …

Why stop with hooker dolls?

Kids, boys and girls, should have little plastic likenesses of the potpourri of role models our society serves up:

*The insider-trading, stock option rigging, employee retirement plan pillaging CEO white collar criminal doll. The Tonto to this Lone Ranger would be his little attorney doll, of course. Pull a string in their back and they talk about how the CEO believed in the company right up until he started dumping the shares.

*The creepy, emaciated guy in Thailand who wants people to think he might have killed a little girl doll.

*The lil’ thug doll that comes with a lil’ plastic Glock and an Escalade. Watch how the little gangsta rolls, kids.

*The roided up athlete doll. Little Johnny has to set the crazy-eyed linebacker aside in the toy box for four weeks, but then it can come back out in time for the Super Bowl and no one cares. But if he’s a baseball player, he’s a Pied Piper marching American youth into Hell.

*The hypocritical closeted gay evangelist doll.

*The guy who mutters to himself the whole time he’s on the MARTA train doll: “People don’t want to get close to each other. Jesus put us close together on this train.”