Springtime In Texas, Anna Nicole, and Dead Trannys

Springtime -- rebirth, color, flowers. Mmmmmm,yummie. So, while the rest of you poor slags are snowed in, we have an eruption of delicate, young spring flowers, soft as the firm bottom on a perfect tulip, rose lips trembling on the verge of opening up to the secrets they contain, lighly dusted with morning dew...

Yer welcome.

So how is everyone? I've been awhile between posts, mostly because I just couldn't bring myself to write. It's been pure-T hell waiting and waiting -- but it's all resolved now, and thank God it turns out that

I'M NOT ANNA NICHOL'S BABY'S FATHER!
I can breathe again.

Actually, I wouldn't have boffed that pneumatic skankonese at gunpoint, but knowing how my luck goes, it wouldn't have surprised me if I'd wound up on the wrong end of a 1 in 77 bazillion coincidence and been the lead story on CNN tonight. (After all, there is no actual news anywhere on earth -- Birkhead's fuck trophy seems to be the lead on all the channels.)

In fact that's the big reason that I stay clear of court when they're have one a' them "Innocence Project" thingers where they get some putz out of the slammer based on DNA evidence -- I figger that I'd probably wind up doing the perp shuffle into his slot in the system. The universe goes to great lengths to balance itself, and you'd be surprised to discover how often it uses me as the counterweight.

Speaking of which, had you noticed the only ones they're getting off are persons of color, and mexicans? And that there ain't no whiteboys on their list waiting for someone to prove they didn't swing that hippie from the front of the VFW that night? Yeah, right, THERE'S a coincidence for ya. I'll believe those yutzes are on a "justice" project when they get a few whiteboys out -- if not, they're prolly just another corporate division of the Jackson, Sharpton, Farrakan and Company Poverty Pimp Collective, Inc.™®© [a wholly owned subsidiary of NAACP].

So I saw "300" this weekend. Good flick, but I don't know what all the bilge oil about it being political was about. It was at least as historically accurate as Gore's movie was scientifically accurate, and a TON more entertaining, and should be given AT LEAST as much weight. (Yes, I actually saw Gore's epic -- if we define "saw" as "slept through everything after the opening credits". Gawd, what a whiny fucker.)

Anyhow, a quick synopsis for those who haven't seen it:

(a) The studly, body-building, six-pack American Spartan patriots held off the transsexual Islamic Iranian Persian animal hordes who were attempting to overrun civilization; meanwhile,

(b) the limp-wristed, boy-fucking Congress Athenians dithered around partially as a result of being worthless, but mostly because of;

(c) being mislead by the treasonous, bought-off Pelosi Oracle, who had attained her lofty position by allowing disgustingly diseased old Kennedys party members priests to have their way with her, all of whom had;

(d) been bought lock, stock and barrel by the Islamic Iranian Persian animal horde leadership; meanwhile,

(e) the heroic American Spartan patriots informed the Fucking French horribly-deformed-from-birth-mistake-of-nature that he wasn't good enough to fight, but could follow up the real soldiers and kill off the wounded, if he'd like; however, instead;

(f) the Fucking French horribly-deformed-from-birth-mistake-of-nature got his nose out of joint 'cause ils ont pensé qu'ils étaient réellement quelqu'un he actually thought he was someone, and being a pissed off, yet cowardly, scumbag;

(g) led the Islamic Iranian Persian animal horde around behind the heros; which, of course,

(h) resulted in approximately 653,000 dead Islamic Iranian Persian animals and 300 dead heros.

In short, it was a comedy. And a damned fine one, too. Μολὼν λαβέ indeed.

Ah, well, gotta move along. Things to do, people to do them to, you know. Busy, busy, busy...

In Our Next Episode: Nappy Headed Ho's And Other African American Traditions