Monday, February 23, 2009
The latest literary offering I have digested is “Justice For All: The Truth About Metallica” by music “journalist” Joel McIver.
This book should have been called "Metallica: 300 Pages of Some Fanboy Bitch Whining About A Band He's Not Even A Member Of"
It purports to be “exposing the myths” around the band, telling the “unvarnished truth” about how they “really” formed and developed.
And whilst I will expound in more detail upon Joel’s offering shortly, here is Chov’s 15 Second Review for those of you trying to read this at work:
Joel McIver: I think the “Black Album” and everything after it is $hit. Waaah, waaah, waaah. I wanted St Anger to be good, and it was $hit, waaah, waaah, waaah. Metallica were mean and rude when they sued Napster, waaah, waaah, waaaah. Metallica don’t play fast anymore, waaah, waaah, waaah. Metallica cut their hair short, waaah, waaah, waaah. And somehow, in a book about Metallica, a disturbing number of quotes from a former member of the stupidest metal band ever – Stryper.
That just saved all of you the few days or so of your life you would have spent reading this and never received back.
First, allow me to express my view on music ‘critics’ and music ‘journalists’ like Joel McIver generally.
And because I am a lazy man, rather than coming up with my own words, I’ll use someone else’s because they are perfect and have already done the job.
Specifically, the mighty Australian band T.I.S.M. and their classic track “BFW” (Big F*cking Whoopee).
Now the lyrics themselves are actually about FOOD critics, but the sentiment is PERFECTLY applied to MUSIC CRITICS as well.
“By Christ, when your life's specialty is forcing another morsel of over-glazed lamb shank down your oily, globular, over-opinionated gullet, when, of all the things in the world men are called to do…of all the vocations of love and adventure…of all the trials of the emotions and amongst all the voyages of spirit mankind can embark upon, when, given this whole universe of possible callings, the one YOU choose is to sit on your crapulent crack and LAZILY WHINE about SOMEONE ELSE’S cooking, that's when YOU KNOW, you are at the very ACME of the BFW shit heap.”
Three hundred-odd f*cken pages of self-wankery by Mr McIver amounts to precisely that – f*cking cry-baby whining that Metallia haven’t re-recorded “Master of Puppets” 27 times.
And I bet, if they had, he would be f*cking whining that have never ‘evolved’ or ‘moved forward’.
You can tell a f*cking obnoxious, pretentious tw@t of a Metallica fan immediately – they are ALWAYS the ones who try to ‘distinguish’ themselves by aligning with the “Master of Puppets”-crowd and badmouthing everything from the “Load”-era.
As though that f*cking means any-f*cking-thing.
Oh, you’re no ‘bandwagon jumper’, I get that.
But big f*cking deal. The world doesn’t care.
I have pretty much all the major releases by Metallica, except for “S&M”. And I like all of them in their own way. But whether you do, or anyone else does, means three-thirds of F*CK ALL to me. I think "S&M" is one of the most f*cking wanking ideas that pomposity ever devised. But who gives a $hit? I don't need to write a book about it.
See, I couldn’t give a $hit what some pompous, self-obsessed wanker fanboy thinks of “Reload”, song-by-f*cking-song.
It’s music – you like it or you don’t. There’s no f*cking PRECISE SCIENCE to it. The fact, Mr McIver, that you think “The Memory Remains” is a steaming pile of turd means exactly F*CK ALL outside of your own ar$ehole.
And the cause of so much of your irrelevant angst is that Metallica went in a different direction with 1991’s self-titled “Black” album, and, in your mind, have never returned.
To be fair, this is a view shared by many Metallica fanboys, who are united in their 17 years of incessant crying, whinging and f*cking whining about it.
Joel McIver, whose opinion Metallica should listen to. And who should try to strike poses like this in photo-shoots. According to Joel McIver. Because Joel McIver thinks Joel McIver is the bomb.
See, I went through all 300 pages of the book to try and find the part where Joel McIver joined Metallica, even briefly.
Maybe, I thought, he might have filled in just after original bassist Cliff Burton was killed? Nope.
Maybe he was in after bassist Jason Newsted quit, and the band had not yet hired Robert Trujillo? Nope.
Maybe the early, early days, before they hit it big? Nope.
Maybe he was like the keyboardist for Black Sabbath all those years, the guy who played live off-stage and nobody ever saw him but he was definitely playing along? Nope.
So I can only conclude that Joel f*cking McIver was NEVER IN METALLICA.
But, not be deterred, Mr McIver STILL THINKS EVERYONE, BUT MOSTLY THE BAND THEMSELVES, SHOULD LISTEN TO HIS F*CKING WHINING.
Here’s a UNIVERSAL TRUTH for all you fanboys out there. In fact, it could apply to being an obsessive wanker fanboy of anything, but we’ll stick to Metallica for a moment.
BEING A FAN DOESN’T MEAN YOU OWN THE BAND.
YOU DON’T GET TO MAKE DECISIONS ABOUT ANYTHING THE BAND F*CKING DOES.
They don’t have to listen to you, or any of your f*cking cry-baby bitching, and when they inevitably DON’T – just shut the f*ck up and SUCK IT UP.
If they want to record a f*cking CHRISTMAS ALBUM, then THEY F*CKING WELL CAN. YOU DON’T GET TO VOTE ON IT, DIP$HITS.
And all the crybabies who f*cking sooked about the band suing Napster, and took your pathetic “fanhood” somewhere else in a f*cking pi$$-ant little “protest” – NOBODY F*CKING CARES.
According to Wikipedia:
“As of September 2008, Metallica is the fourth highest-selling music artist since the SoundScan era began tracking sales on May 25, 1991, selling a total of 51,136,000 albums in the United States alone.”
To note, 1991 is when the self-titled “Black” album came out, so these figures don’t include “Master of Puppets” or “And Justice For All” or anything else from that era.
This, it seems that, for every whinging, whining f*cking fanboy who hated “Reload” there were a few others that liked it, hmm?
Not that it makes them right and the fanboys wrong, by any means. But at least THEY UNDERSTAND THAT.
They buy it, they like it, they listen to it.
REGARDLESS OF WHAT YOU F*CKING FANBOYS THINK.
And so for all the Metalli-nerds who staged silent protest and “left” the band behind over the Napster thing….51 million albums sold in the States alone says THEY DIDN’T MISS YOU.
So not GIVING A $HIT WHAT YOU THINK seems to be working out for them.
So go ahead, swap your Metallica shirts for Justin Timberlake shirts or something, protect your “integrity” or whatever the f*ck it is you think the world needs to care about. Create your own little tree-house clubs and F*CKING WHINE TO YOUR BITCHY LITTLE HEART’S CONTENT.
Just try and keep it from the rest of us, who don’t give a toss.
But Mr McIver tries to squirm out from under the “over-reacting fanboy” label by pompously anointing himself an authentic objective. In his foreword, he says:
“Metallica have made several decisions across the years – musically, strategically and otherwise – which I regard as errors, and have said so in plain terms…But there are no criticisms here which aren’t deserved.”
What the f*ck?
Who the f*ck cares what YOU classify as errors you pompous f*cktard?! I already established you’re not a member of Metallica, so your opinion on them is worth no more nor less than those of a million other morons. And whether your criticisms of them are deserved or not is not for YOU to decide ABOUT YOUR OWN CRITICISMS you pompous wanker.
Stryper, unintentionally the funniest metal band ever. But then, being a "christian" metal band and throwing bibles into the crowd WILL make Chov laugh. Just looking at this picture should make you want to pray. For F*CKING ARMAGGEDDON.
And, just a free tip for Mr McIver – nobody in the f*cking universe gives a $hit what F*CKEN FORMER MEMBERS OF STRYPER THINK ABOUT ANYTHING, let alone Metallica.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Which would be pleasing to rest of us.
But instead, up they get to say stupid $hit from taller and taller soapboxes, and the sad thing is that, eventually, MORONS FLOCK TO THEM and the stupid $hit they were saying suddenly becomes EN VOGUE.
Stop and f*cken think about what you believe, people, BEFORE YOU START BELIEVING IT.
For starters, all you need to do is TAKE A F*CKEN LOOK AT THE PERSON IN FRONT OF YOU, saying the stupid $hit.
There's normally a great clue right there.
Al Gore is a f*cking dimwitted chump, the same fool who couldn't beat the f*cking CHIMPANZEE-SMART George Bush, and apparently HOOVERS UP F*CKING POWER LIKE AN 80s HEAVY METAL STAR SNORTING COKE...
"In the past year, Gore’s home burned through 213,210 kilowatt-hours (kWh) of electricity, enough to power 232 average American households for a month.
Since taking steps to make his home more environmentally-friendly last June, Gore devours an average of 17,768 kWh per month –1,638 kWh more energy per month than before the renovations – at a cost of $16,533. By comparison, the average American household consumes 11,040 kWh in an entire year, according to the Energy Information Administration."
And the sad part is, millions of f*ckwits all over the world decided that this guy is a f*cken genius and his movie of f*cking outrageous bull$hit was BELIEVABLE.
Al Gore, APPARENTLY A GENIUS OF ALL SCIENCE, proudly posing with a hurricane HE HELPED CREATE.
But why would Al Gore lie about something so serious, Chov?
That's just great.
Al Gore's a moron, saying imbecilic things, you f*ckwits decide to believe him on the f*ckwitted basis that he's a f*cken FAILED POLITICIAN WITH NO SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE WHATSOEVER, he gets rich and I HAVE TO F*CKING SUFFER FOR IT.
And I have an even better example.
I mean, who would you turn to for valuable knowledge about your child's health - the World Health Organisation and lots of people with brains?
Or a F*CKING FORMER PLAYBOY BUNNY STAR WHO BARELY SCRAPES BY AS A C-GRADE TV ACTOR?
Nothing screams "BRAINS" like that tag-line eh?
And the message that hundreds of f*ckwits are now swallowing because Jenny McCarthy, the intellectual GIANT, said so?
Vaccines cause autism.
A picture of a vaccine research genius in the lab, examining mass-spectrometer readings.
No they f*cken don't and there's NEVER been ANY proof or even any PERSUASIVE INDEPENDENT EVIDENCE to say so.
But that doesn't stop MORONS from accepting it as FACT.
Here's a FACT. Measles KILLS. Here's another. Whooping Cough KILLS.
But that's ok for the anti-vaccine morons of the world, because they believe some spurious bull$hit and don't want to RISK their child contracting autism from a jab.
These same f*ckwits, I presume, have no problem putting their child into a car and driving down the street, despite the fact that EVEN IF THEIR POSITION WAS TRUE, THEY WOULD STILL BE MORE LIKELY TO HAVE THEIR CHILD HARMED OR KILLED IN A CAR ACCIDENT.
So don't feed me the 'avoiding risk' bull$hit.
The simply brilliant Professor Bob Park, of Maryland University, is succinct:
"On Thursday, three special masters demolished arguments that childhood vaccines, MMR in particular, cause autism. Brian Deer reported in the Sunday Times of London that Dr. Andrew Wakefield, the British physician who set off the vaccine panic, "manipulated and altered data" (also known as "lying") in a 1998 Lancet paper."
Why would a doctor lie about something so serious?
Well, it has recently been "...discovered that Wakefield had been in the pocket of a trial lawyers seeking to sue vaccine manufacturers, having accepted £435,643 in fees, plus £3,910 expenses for his "research."
And yet some people CONTINUE TO ignore such facts, ignore the exposing of LIES and decide to believe $hit BECAUSE A FAILED RICH POLITICIAN and a PLAYBOY BUNNY TOLD THEM TO.
And you f*cking wonder why I'm angry all the time.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
So when I observe f*ckwits doing the myriad of things that f*ckwits do, I rush to line up against them.
Sometimes I take sides because I care.
And other times I take sides just for $hits and giggles.
And then there are still other occasions when I can't take anybody's side because they're ALL F*CKWITS and EVERYBODY IS TALKING STUPID $HIT.
So let me introduce Benji "Pillows" Marshall, rugby league player for the Wests Tigers.
Benji is a weakling. If there is an opposite end in the Universe to the planet INDESTRUCTIBLE IV, then it is inside Benji Marshall's PEA-SIZED HEART. Benji bathes in SENSODYNE on medical advice due to his sensitive skin.
That Benji is overmatched playing rugby league against men is f*cking apparent and obvious to anyone with half a f*cking clue - unfortunately a demographic that doesn't include Benji himself. Benji exists in only two spheres of time/space - 'injured' or 'returning-from-injury'.
Since he made his debut in 2003, Benji has only managed to play a total of 80 games. Out of, oh, let's say 26 games a season (without finals or internationals)...carry the two...rounding...about 150.
Barely better than 1 game out of every 2.
Season before that?
And before that?
A f*cking Herculean 11.
Like I said. Wimp.
And now he and his manager want to spend the off-season playing rugby union.
Can you f*cking imagine it?
A pic of Benji Marshall relaxing and reading the Rant Emporium after leaving a typical Wests Tigers training session after only 3 minutes. He pulled a hamstring setting out the cones for drills. Due back on the field in Round 15.
This guy is as tough as f*cking fairy floss and creaming soda. He can barely play every other game AS IT IS, without playing more games.
Although, what am I saying? He'll more than likely just be watching from the stands as his new rugby union club plays games without him anyway.
But he's f*cking complaining because NRL chief David Gallop won't let him go and play rugby and therefore experience the new and exciting cultural wonders of physiotherapists and treatment rooms outside the NRL, for a change.
And that's where Gallop is ALSO talking a great shovel-load of crap.
First off, other players have pi$$ed off to rugby and Gallop has all but picked them up from the airport when they came back and given them a fully-lubed handjob on the way home - think Mat Rogers and Wendell Sailor (not just a rugby traitor but a f*cking drug cheat as well).
Gallop is apparently some sort of ex-lawyer, but can't spell I-N-C-O-N-S-I-S-T-E-N-T.
Let the f*cken idiot go you great f*cking JESSY.
"For a player who has had his share of injuries to go and play rugby - if he got injured and could not play the first few months of the rugby league season, the fans would be really disappointed, and they'd say, 'Why would we let this happen?"' Gallop said.
What are you - his f*cken mummy?
OF COURSE he'll get injured - it's what Benji Marshall does BEST!
And so the "fans" should be F*CKING WELL USED TO THE DISAPPOINTMENT BY NOW! I bet coach Tim Sheens is.
Every time some prima donna over-rated wankstain league player goes all "show me da money" a crescendo of f*ckwits cry that league will die if they go, scrap the salary cap, pay them more blah blah f*cken blah.
Well it's still here, despite this annual WHORING THEMSELVES OUT ORGY conducted by off-contract league mungo-men. I'm still waiting for Kogarah to fall into the f*cking ocean and for league to become extinct now that Gasnier has pi$$ed off to France.
The problem of league's future is not in a prima donna f*cking off to French rugby, it's in the lack of resources targeted for developing youth - which can also be coined as "where are the f*cken prima donnas of tomorrow going to come from?"
But that's not what this rant is about.
The Chov is here to tell you that the 2009 NRL premiership will go ahead with a full complement of teams EVEN IF BENJI MARSHALL F*CKS OFF.
And I will even frame a market quoting good odds that the 2010 season WILL ALSO BE LARGELY UNAFFECTED.
I know, I know, I should have warned you to sit down before reading that as the shock of such an OUTRAGEOUS PREDICTION will be so F*CKING ENORMOUS it could cause CATACLYSMIC DESTRUCTION.
And then Gallop also came up with this, frankly bizarre, piece of a-grade export-quality bull$hit to try and explain the situation:
"If I work for Coke, I'm not going to be allowed to go to Pepsi for a few months."
Well, actually, being a free labour market, if you were not employed or contracted to Coke you could GO AND FELLATE PEPSI BOTTLES IN THE MIDDLE OF MARTIN F*CKING PLACE if you f*cking well desired to do so.
But if this were Benji Marshall, he would leave Coke having only finished every second bottle, and he would arrive at Pepsi, get run over by a forklift on his way in on Day #1, spend 8 weeks recovering, and then on his first day back at work somebody would throw him a bottle and he would f*cking well DROP IT and smash it on his foot and be out for another 4 weeks and then, upon yet another return, he would dislocate his shoulder opening the front door.
By the end of that the PEPSI General Manager WOULD F*CKING WELL PERSONALLY DRIVE HIM BACK TO COKE HEAD OFFICE AND KICK HIM OUT THE F*CKEN CAR-DOOR.
And now THAT is what the fans want to see, Mr Gallop. So quit being part of the f*cking PROBLEM and start being part of the SOLUTION.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Chov has roused himself just often enough to have reached the FIFTY BLOG-POST mark!
Fifty posts of irrelevant rubbish, read by about 12 people.
Go ahead, laugh, mock.
It's still more than YOU'VE done today.
I do, in fact, rule.
Monday, February 16, 2009
I know the hundreds of you here paid upwards of $1000 a table, which means you've all f*cken gone and pi$$ed KRudd's economic stimulus payments up the f*cken urinal wall - JUST LIKE HE WANTS YOU TO.
Yes, it is indeed time for us to officially kick off 2009 (in February - what can I say, I'm a f*cken lazy lazy man...) by putting a line under 2008 and presenting Chov's FUCKWIT OF THE YEAR Award.
And let me assure you, ladies and gentlemen, this award is one of the most sought after and hotly contested in the world.
You would have to think so, given the sheer number of fuckwits who hovered into Chov's Zone of Consciousness during 2008 and stayed just long enough to annoy the living shit out of him. And anyone else with an IQ over 15.
But deliberately angling for the Award in this sort of shameless fashion doesn't really garner points with the judge.
Who is me.
Although can I take a moment to say this has been the best red carpet parade ever, all you ladies look lovely, and thanks for not making this glittering ceremony a complete sausage-fest like last year.
But let's recap a great year for f*ckwitness in general.
I mean, it was the year of KRudd, Saint Kevin - Patron Saint of Working Families who gets in at 4am every morning to conjure up ways of taking fuckwittery to new heights in public office. He was on the shortlist for this award about 27 times, for christ's sake.
But he's not the winner, and THAT'S saying something impressive.
A short perusal through the archives of Chov's esteemed blog - the one, the only, the Rant Emporium! - is like taking a virtual tour through the dim, dark and terrifying depths of fuckwitaciousness. Go ahead, click a link at random and be amazed for yourself.
An honorable mention or two, before we get to the main event.
Who could forget the classic nimrods who stuck a f*cking monkey suit and a couple of raw steaks into an esky and called it "proof of Bigfoot"?
Sadly, Billy-Bob and Skeeter couldn't be here this evening, but we wish them all the best when they stick a pound of tuna into a bathtub and try to pass it off as the Loch Ness monster.
I was also impressed by the story that Prince Harry's stint in Afghanistan came to an abrupt end after news of his "secret" deployment leaked out. A big f*ckwit-thumbs-up to the British secret service on that one. James Bonds you ain't. Harry was then brought home "amid concerns for his safety".
Concerns for his safety? He was a serviceman in a F*CKING WAR ZONE.
Then there was fatty-Ronaldo, injured knee and all, "recuperating" back in Brazil by getting sprung with not one, not even TWO, BUT THREE transvestite prostitutes....and then trying to tell police that "...he was having some psychological problems linked to his injury." What, like understanding chicks don't have dicks?
I also enjoyed the farcical Commielympics, especially the opening ceremony and the revelation that the star of the show mimed her way through her performance, because the Comrade who really sang was too f*cking ugly to put on TV in front of the world. And the way in which the world's media and gubbmints lapped it all up.
Also a shout out to all the f*ckwits who thought the world would END when the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) was switched on. Especially the late f*ckwits who killed themselves IN ADVANCE to miss the rush. So......how'd that work out for you?
I have to say the runner-up really distinguished himself, too.
Ben Stein, where are you? Ben?
Actually I'm being told Ben's not here this evening, he's busy sitting in his fridge trying to discover if the light stays on or not. He's currently up to week 13 of the experiment. So far - inconclusive.
Ben would have made it to the finals in discussions for this award for his movie alone - that would be the unintentionally hilarious "Expelled" - a craptacular documentary that asserts that evolution is wrong and that there is a giant conspiracy wherein teachers are forced to teach evolution and persecuted if they disagree.
But here's the quote that really put Ben over the top:
"When we just saw that man, I think it was Mr. Myers [biologist P.Z. Myers], talking about how great scientists were, I was thinking to myself the last time any of my relatives saw scientists telling them what to do they were telling them to go to the showers to get gassed … that was horrifying beyond words, and that’s where science — in my opinion, this is just an opinion — that’s where science leads you."
Yes, Ben, that's all that science does for mankind.
It reminds me of Life of Brian - "What has the Roman Empire ever done for us?"
You're a magnificent f*ckwit, Ben, but even you couldn't scale the heights to which our winner ascended.
See, happily, every year some nimrod goes the extra fuckwit mile and distinguishes him or herself from the herd in a special way that causes The Chov to want to perform the f*cking HUNDRED HAND SLAP on their f*cking CORTEX.
So, without further ado, Chov's 2008 FUCKWIT OF THE YEAR Award goes to...
....drumroll while envelope is opened...
FIFA President Sepp Blatter!!!
"I'm thrilled to receive this award! Wait....I feel an idea coming on! No, wait, it's just a turtle-head poking out of my ass...."
I have festered on this one for quite a while.
And his dumb ideas about "slavery" and widening the goals and other stupid shit aren't really what won him this award. Although they helped.
No, it really came down to his nonsensical involvement in the Cristiano Ronaldo-to-Real Madrid transfer saga.
Basically, the snivelling little turd Ronaldo wanted a move, and his snivelling little turd of an agent worked everything out behind the scenes, only for Man Utd (his current club) to produce an *ahem* F*CKING CONTRACT and stick that up everyone's ass.
And so Real Madrid, scum of the earth that they are, did everything they could to stir the pot and agitate for a release.
Everyone and his f*cking dog knew they were in the wrong. United held firm. End of story, you would think.
But then the King of F*ckwits, Sepp Blatter, waded in.
And made some outrageously f*ckwitted comments that Ronaldo was a slave being held against his will and should be allowed to leave for Real Madrid.
And dismissed United's complaints to FIFA that Real Madrid had acted unprofessionally, unethically and illegally in continuing to pursue their player.
And f*ckwit sycophants like Les Murray tried to defend him and his comments.
But not The Chov....oh no.
This is the same Sepp Blatter who is a f*cking MEMBER OF REAL MADRID FOOTBALL CLUB.
Who has received AWARDS FROM THE CLUB FOR HIS SERVICES.
Who calls Real Madrid "more than a club" and has been a FAN since CHILDHOOD, when he said he used to ORGASM watching Alfredo di Stefano in the 1950s.
Okay maybe he didn't quite say that, but he did try to say he was only a fan of Real Madrid as a child.
But, as an adult football administrator, he changed a local Swiss club's constitution so that they would wear the same ALL-WHITE club strip as.....(do I need to even say it...?)
Sepp Blatter, The Chov's 2008 Sepp Blatter F*ckwit of the Year Award Winner, pretending to be Ferenc Puskas in the 1958 European Cup Final.
Well dress me in a pink tutu and call me Marilyn I think we may be onto something here...
Mr Blatter, you are a f*ckwit of the highest order. In fact, I am going to name my annual award after you.
Which means Sepp Blatter has been awarded The Chov's 2008 Sepp Blatter F*ckwit of the Year Award.
I can't actually tell for sure, as I haven't watched a single f*cking ball being bowled since the test matches finished, but the highlights for various useless matches seem to be interrupting the sports news less and less.
And if you are one of those people who think 20-20 cricket is the new "thing" and more exciting than watching a XXX JENNATHON while drinking RedBull, I can only imagine that your attention span is so f*cking limited you probably lose interest before you've even finished wanking.
Cricket season ending can only mean football season is coming up, which is awesomeness-in-a-f*cking-can.
Not just because the footy itself is entertaining, but because the mongs and booners who follow it as though it's Geezus hisself come out from their caves and from beneath their rocks and provide all sorts of low-intellect entertainment for me - not to mention the dumb things that the players and coaches themselves say and do.
Unfortunately, though, none of the Australian football codes contain a Charles Haley.
For those that do not know who Charles Haley is, his low-calorie Wikipedia entry will describe him as an NFL player for the San Francisco 49ers and Dallas Cowboys.
In reality he was a freakin' monster defensive player who, at his best, couldn't be stopped by any human means.
But that was on the field.
Off the field, Charles Haley was a confused, insane, borderline psychotic, and, as such, was endlessly entertaining in a way that few other athletes are.
I might have mentioned Charles Haley was insane.
What I meant was the dude was smear-yourself-in-your-own-poop F*CKEN CRAZY.
He apparently excused himself from a team-meeting one time to take a crap.
But that's not the F*CKING CRAZY PART.
He took a crap, came back to the meeting, pulled down his pants to reveal he HADN'T WIPED, proceeded to WIPE in front of the meeting, and then THREW THE USED PAPER AT HIS COACH.
There's no truth to the rumours that somebody stole that paper after the meeting and sold it to the Detroit Lions as their playbook last season.
Big Charles also knew how to foster team-spirit in the locker room.
Here's an excerpt from one of his motivational speeches, as delivered to his own quarterback, Mr Steve Young, after what must have been (I'm guessing here) a particularly heart-breaking squeaker of a loss:
"I could have f*cking won that game in my sleep! You’re a motherf*cking pussy faggot quarterback! A motherf*cking pussy faggot quarterback with no balls!”
There are other kinds?
He also set a team-record at the Dallas Cowboys for "Most Homosexual Accusations - Single Season" with about 8,056 by Week 11, when they stopped tallying after concluding nobody would ever beat this record, ever.
They included this gem, delivered to a 10 year old ball-boy during training (ok maybe it was a fellow player but I like my version better):
"Are you from California? You must be a f*cking faggot then."
That's f*cking lightnin-quick logic there, my friends.
Of course, all this adds up to only one thing - Charles Haley: deep in the closet and in major denial.
We see examples of it all the time, but mostly in Republican Senators. Loudmouth homophobes who, it turns out, secretly love the sausage and are only loudmouth "homophobes" to try and divert attention away from their "wide stances" in airport restrooms, yes-Larry-Craig-I'm-looking-at-you...
Just like Charles Haley, who really loved his OWN sausage. And wanted others to love it too!
Astute people close to Charles might have been able to spot a potential "issue" at about this point in Charles's life:
"During another team meeting, Haley whispered to teammate Scott Case, “Scott, turn around, I gotta show you something… Scott, dammit, turn around! You need to see this!” When Case turned around, according to Pearlman, he “saw Haley’s erect penis stretched across the desk.”"
I guess it pays to advertise.
It's not widely known that Charles Haley's favourite karaoke song was Chuck Berry's "My Ding-a-ling"...performed complete with "live action" to go with the lyrics. Also, note the glove is only on Charles's "Action Hand".
But that's not all.
Like an addict who starts small and then needs a bigger and bigger 'rush', Charles quickly escalated his behaviour.
See, Charles loved his own wang SO MUCH he enjoyed whacking it out and...well.....whacking IT in front of others, especially in the LOCKER ROOM in FRONT OF HIS TEAM-MEATS. I mean, MATES. You know, the ones who were all "faggots", according to Charles.
The best part of this is that it wasn't just a playful flash here and there on the way to the showers or anything, either.
And it wasn't even just giving a humourous 'tea-bagging' to a team-mate while they were asleep and taking a photo of the event.
No, we're talking really going at it with gusto - a means to a very specific END as it were - in FRONT OF THE TEAM and SELECTED TEAM-MATES.
I thought the only people that did this were kids with down syndrome working at Big W.
From the book "Boys Will Be Boys", a behind-the-scenes expose of the Dallas Cowboys championship teams of the 1990s:
"Haley would stroll up to an unsuspecting teammate, whip out his phallus, and repeatedly stroke it in his face. Players initially laughed it off…"
Maybe it's my fault, but I can't get in this headspace. Maybe it's because this never quite happened in the UC Firebirds locker-room. I kept my Four Inches of Fury to myself, and (mostly) so did others.
Except maybe Czerny, but we got used to that over time.
But what are you going to do when a SIX FOOT FIVE INCH GIANT BLACK MAN waves his ERECT COCK in your face? And then starts "stroking" the thing, presumably while the business end is pointed AT YOU.
Say "Wait a minute everyone, let's see where he's going with this...."!!??
I like the use of the word "phallus" there, too. Let's just assume that the publisher objected to the phrase "Haley was hung like f*cken Mandingo" and suggested a list of euphemisms for Haley's personal elephant trunk.
"Charles used to beat off in meetings while talking graphically about other players’ wives. It got to the point of ejaculation."
Err..well why ELSE would you be wanking, exactly? Other than to get to that point?
"Haley refused to stop. He would jerk off in the locker room, in the trainer’s room. He’d wrap his hand around his penis, turn toward a Joe Montana or John Taylor, and bellow, ‘You know you wanna suck this!’"
Now some of you might be thinking, well, where's the coach in all this? I mean, isn't the coach supposed to instil some discipline here, instead of dicksipline?
Allow me to quote coach Barry Switzer, arriving at Cowboys HQ to begin his tenure as head coach in Dallas:
"Where the hell is Charles Haley? I’m mad at you! I heard you flicked your dick at everybody, and you didn’t do it to me? What am I, chopped liver?"
I couldn't find an exact quote of Charles's reply, but I think it went something like this:
"Yeeaah, coach, now you talkin' bitch!
(with great effort, heaves out 14 inch anaconda-ish monstrosity and brandishes it with two hands)
Yeah!! Look at my dick muthaf*ckah! Yeah, muthaf*ckah, c'mon LOOK AT IT! Wanch yo coffee BLACK NOW MUTHAF*CKAH!? CHECKIT!! YEAH!!
(starts manipulating himself rhythymically)
WHATCHOO DOIN' LOOKIN' AT MY DICK MUTHAF*CKA??!!! WHATCHOO, SOME SORT OF F*CKIN FAGGOT!?"
Monday, February 9, 2009
I have just read the stupidest sentence ever written.
A sentence so vacuous, so devoid of anything approaching independent, intelligent thought that the following events happened simultaneously and instantly:
* A corpuscle in my left eyeball exploded, shouting "I REGRET NOTHING!!!";
* My IQ dropped 87 points momentarily, meaning I spent 18 seconds seriously considering hip-hop to be a valid form of music;
* An overwhelming urge to smash someone (probably Michael Clarke) to death with a cricket-bat came over me and, finally
* Coffee blew out of my nose and, like the beautiful flare of a comet, angrily arced through the air and slallopped (that is word now, I just made it up) onto my monitor screen.
And I have some f*cking outrageous nimrod named Tom Frame to thank for this wanton slalloppping of pixels.
Tom is a "Professor of Theology", a term which means the same thing as "King of F*ckwits" because theology is about as f*cking useful to the world and life in general as the South Sydney Rabbitohs.
A graduate from f*cking "David Beckhamology 101" provides greater insight and clarity to global intellectual discourse than a f*cking billion theologians.
This is because theology is the made-up f*cking study of ridiculous f*cking made up elements of a f*cking made-up God and/or gods.
How does this work?
Well, the celibate former-Nazi-sympathiser and current child-molester-apologist Pope sits around with a bunch of cardinals, also celibate (and who may or may not be kiddy fiddlers themselves, it's hard to tell - this is the Catholic Church after all). They discuss irrelevant passages from a made-up book of f*cken fairy stories, the Bible; specifically, (for example), whether or not the fact that Onan having a right good flog of his log and splattering his splooge into the dry dust on the ground should be interpreted as God's will that no f*cking Catholics can wear a condom or not.
I love this God. Apparently all knowing and all powerful, but can't be F*CKED MAKING HIS INSTRUCTIONS CLEAR.
Like, for instance, having Onan come down from on high (now THAT'S good punnery!) and say "F*cken wow! I just saw God, man, and he said I'm going to go f*cking well BLIND if I keep wanking, and by the way he also clearly said that any of you f*ckers who covers his wang with sheep intestine before having a horizontal hava nagila - well, you're f*cked too."
Gotta love a God who f*cks with people by being deliberately vague.
So what we get instead of clarity from a REAL SOURCE is a whole bunch of f*cking pompous, useless f*cktards discussing irrelevant $hit from a made-up fairy-tale and calling it THEOLOGY.
Trying to "make sense" of f*cking unfathomable "rules" that come from some f*cking invisible, made-up bearded guy in the sky.
That's just f*cking great.
And then Tom Frame, who is a "Professor" of this $hit in the same way I am a "Professor" of "Wiping My Own Ar$e" comes along and writes a book and an extract from that book gets published in a newspaper and sets back human enlightenment 50,000 f*cking years because people stop to read this $hit. And believe it, or think it has a "point".
Enter the Chov to strike a blow against f*ckwitness and make the world a better place in a more direct and EFFECTIVE way than f*cken PRAYER.
The topic is evolution. Up against, as it usually is, the idea that a f*cking invisible made-up f*cking bearded guy in the sky just f*cking closed his eyes and WISHED everything up.
And see, theologians know just how f*cking stupid their idea looks when it is stacked up against science like that.
So they try to f*cking weasel out of it by trying to co-opt bits of science INTO their f*cking stupid arguments.
That is, they admit that maybe God didn't just create the world in seven days, and maybe he didn't create everything at once (so Jebus wasn't preaching from the Mount sitting on top of a F*CKING BRONTOSAURUS), and maybe things did kind of evolve - but it was GOD that made them EVOLVE, see?
This is called a f*cking whiny, pussy, sly, EACH-WAY BET.
Tom Frame says it this way: "Evolutionary theory requires creation to be understood as a continuous process rather than an isolated act in the distant past. In this view, God creates in and through natural processes."
No, he f*cking well doesn't. Evolution kicks your f*cking "God Hypothesis" in the f*cking NUTS and tells him to f*ck off to the FICTION SECTION. There is NO ROOM for GOD in evolution. Why? Because evolution observes FACTS in the NATURAL WORLD and applies them, and your idea of GOD f*cking checking back in every now and then to add another pinch of sugar is F*CKING BULL$HIT that can't be OBSERVED. So DON'T F*CKING MASH THEM TOGETHER.
To do so is to try and compare apples with f*cking babboon-testicles.
See, science, on the one hand, DEMANDS FACTS.
If you want to open your f*cking yap, and say something f*cking outrageous like "Wanking makes you blind!" then science says "Shut the f*ck up and PROVE IT."
Theology says "Is that you, Onan?"
And if you CANNOT prove it, (I would love to read the abstract for that study though) then science says "f*ck off, I'm busy".
But if you CAN, then a hundred scientists IMMEDIATELY start trying to replicate your experiement to discredit you. (What can I say, scientists can be a bitchy bunch)
If they get the same results, voila, the concept you voiced is accepted, more data is collated, more questions are asked and new research is spawned - and the idea is advanced along the entire process.
But if they catch you out, F*CKEN BLAMMO you get to start again. Which is where all the "cold fusion" loons are at right about now. They play Monopoly and NEVER PASS GO, those morons.
So, see, Scientific Method has a BUILT-IN ANTI-BULLSHIT DETECTOR.
Evolution has been blasted at for a long time. And it REMAINS the best possible explanation, because it gets improved every time it gets challenged and survives. FACTS tend to have that effect.
Theology, on the other hand, is based in religion, which treats FACTS like f*cking Paris Hilton treats underpants on a night out - to be f*cking TOSSED AWAY AT THE EARLIEST OPPORTUNITY.
Here's an example of this f*cking weaselly approach, as adopted by Tom Frame:
"I share the conviction of Simon Conway Morris, Professor of Evolutionary Palaeontology at the University of Cambridge: nature controls the course of evolution but convergence, implying a higher purpose, controls nature."
You see what f*cking Tom tried to do there? He tried to legitimise his f*ckwit fairy-tale of the world by co-opting science, which is REAL. He is the fat ugly girl in Year 10 trying to sit with the hot chicks and hoping nobody will notice.
Well, Chov notices and points and yells "FAT BITCH! YOU F*CKING FAT HIPPO! GET AWAY FROM THE PRETTY GIRLS BEFORE YOU INFECT THEM WITH F*CK-OFF UGLY!!"
"Nature controls the course of evolution" is a statement built on years and years and years of scientific study; of thousands of hours documenting the fossil record, of observing mutations; of one LIFETIME of a motherf*cking bona-fide GENIUS named Charles Darwin, who conceptualised it and spent every f*cking waking hour BACKING IT UP and inviting contemporaries and colleagues to CHALLENGE him to REFINE and IMPROVE the facts underpinning his words.
"...but convergence, implying a higher purpose, controls nature". Note the use of the word "IMPLYING", meaning, no factual or evidentiary link, just two things I'd like to join up but F*CKING CAN'T BECAUSE IT WOULD REQUIRE FACTS.
I use the words of Jerry Coyne to respond:
"...We recognize convergences because unrelated species evolve similar traits. In other words, the traits appear in more than one species.
But sophisticated, self-aware intelligence is a singleton: it evolved just once, in a human ancestor. (Octopi and dolphins are also smart, but they do not have the stuff to reflect on their origins.)
In contrast, eyes have evolved independently forty times, and white color in Arctic animals appeared several times.
It is hard to make a convincing case for the evolutionary inevitability of a feature that arose only once. The elephant's trunk, a complex and sophisticated adaptation (it has over forty thousand muscles!), is also an evolutionary singleton.
Yet you do not hear scientists arguing that evolution would inevitably fill the "elephant niche."
See, if elephants got to "evolve' all over again, maybe they might evolve a 14 foot long COCK with a mouth on the end of it instead.
So f*ck "convergence". Two different things evolving in parallel is just that, two things evolving in parallel. It's not f*cking EVIDENCE of ANYTHING. It doesn't IMPLY f*cking ANYTHING. And if it DID, SCIENCE would f*cking well attack it like a rabid dog and try to find out exactly WHAT it IMPLIES. Because that's what science does.
Magic woo-hoo bull$hit, on the other hand, doesn't want answers, they just want to IMPLY that GOD made it all, and FACTS get in the f*cken way.
Tom Frame continues: "Conway has argued evolution is not arbitrary and if life were to evolve again, it would look very much as it does now."
Which just shows that f*cking Conway doesn't even understand what the f*ck evolution is.
Chov argues that if life were to evolve again, female boobs would become 3 times larger and that f*ckwits like conway and Tom Frame would LOSE THE F*CKING EVOLUTIONARY BATTLE AT THE AMOEBA STAGE. But that is wishful thinking, NOT FACT. Spot the difference?
The physicist Freeman Dyson said: "The more I examine the universe and study the details of its architecture … the more evidence I find that the universe in some sense knew we were coming."
Freeman Dyson was a f*cken FAIRY, and the "evidence" he speaks of is NOT F*CKING EVIDENCE OF ANYTHING.
If it WERE, I wouldn't be blogging and ranting against the ridiculous concept of an all-powerful BUT IMPOSSIBLE TO OBSERVE OR CONTACT f*cking invisible bearded guy in the sky would I?
All that Freeman Dyson is saying is "The more I study the f*cking Universe and everything in it, the more I discover that I'm too f*cking stupid to explain everything. Rather than admit this, I decide to simply f*cking invoke some greater being or purpose to explain everything."
Science says NO. Just because YOU can't f*cking explain something, it doesn't mean there is NO explanation.
This is the most crucial part of skepticism and critical thinking.
Just because YOU or I can't figure something out, it doesn't mean that there is NO solution.
See, the critical thinker / scientist looks at the Universe, and without being able to understand how it came to be, simply shrugs and believes that, someday, someone will figure it out. And goes off to study what he can in the meantime, in the hope of progressing human thought toward that end-point.
The loony believer in magicky bull$hit looks at the Universe, and gleefully points out that science is currently unable to understand how it came to be, so therefore they are perfectly entitled to substitute a f*cking fairy story to explain it instead. Cue: Invisble bearded guy in the sky.
Only a f*cken theology major could somehow believe these two approaches are INTELLECTUALLY EQUAL.
Tom Frame goes on: "But as the 2006 Templeton Prize winner John Barrow (a scientist) remarked, religious conceptions of the universe "are not the whole truth, but this does not stop them being part of the truth".
Yes, it f*cking well does. Because the truth is made up of FACTS. And where religious conceptions lack FACT, they DON'T F*CKING WELL BELONG. Get OUT you FAT MOLL, the TRUTH doesn't want you!
Lawrence Krauss is way smarter than me, so I'll let him speak.
"...Religion is simply irrelevant to science, and whether or not science contradicts religion may be of interest to theologians but it simply doesn't matter to scientists. What matters are the important questions science is dealing with, from the origin and future of the universe to the origin and future of life.
All this talk about science and religion gives the wrong impression, as it suggests reconciling them or not reconciling them is a big issue... it isn't. As I once put it to theologians at a meeting at the Vatican: theologians have to listen to scientists, because if they want to try to create a consistent theology...they at least need to know how the world works. But scientists don't have to listen to theologians, because it has no effect whatsoever on the scientific process."
DID YOU F*CKING HEAR THAT?
It doesn't matter to scientists studying cancer cells, or particle theory, or cloning, or genetic modification, or viruses, or complex proteins etc etc whether or not ESAU WAS HIS F*CKING BROTHER'S KEEPER OR NOT. Because the science of what they do is interested ONLY IN FACT.
Without FACTS, science must drive on in search of them. With FACTS, science gains the fuel to drive on further.
But just in case you were thinking that Tom Frame was a reasonable fellow, trying to construct logical and considered points, and Chov is being a bit mean for going medieval on his ass, well Tom can't help but expose himself as the secretly-rabid, vacant-eyed, f*cking clueless God-botherer he really is:
"The problem I face is weariness with science-based dialogue partners like Richard Dawkins...He won't take his depiction of Darwinism to logical conclusions. A dedicated Darwinian would welcome imperialism, genocide, mass deportation, ethnic cleansing, eugenics, euthanasia, forced sterilisations and infanticide. Publicly, he advocates none of them."
This is a f*cken pathetic straw-man argument. That is, build up a straw-man, call it your opponent's argument and blow it down. Except that ISN'T your opponent's argument, and ANYONE WITH A BRAIN who has read Dawkins will know it.
Tom Frame makes no f*cking coherent case for WHY a Darwinist must "welcome" genocide. Because there ISN'T a f*cking logical coherent argument for it. It's a f*cking outrageously stupid attempt to throw discredit at something that bothers him, like a chimp throws $hit.
"Sustained consideration of Darwinian theory has raised a number of new questions for me. When does design become domination? Why did God create human beings as objects of divine favour, "a little lower than angels" (Psalm 8, verse 5), lay a good life out before them in which they could live in harmony with the creator and other creatures, and then include within them the capacity, even propensity, to behave otherwise?"
What the f*ck are you talking about?
You need to go back and PROVE that God created A F*CKING SINGLE THING first, THEN you get to ask the other questions. A sustained consideration of Darwin should have at least given you some appreciation that he was a lot further along the road to factual basis than you are.
Tom Frame is working to a dramatic crescendo of f*ckwittery.
"I...cannot make sense of my life in this world without believing in God and providence."
Then that is YOUR problem, not science's. The critical thinker looks for sense and meaning in FACT. Your ilk can't accept this and can't reconcile it with invisible ghost dude in the sky, so you dismiss fact for fantasy, and then look at FACTS as they THEY are wrong.
"Crudely naturalistic science leaves no room for poetic truth, refuses to honour any spiritual element in physical things and cannot accept the existence of a human soul."
Why should it? There is no evidence for a soul. Until there is, science says "f*ck off" and hangs out the "BUSY" sign. Tom is upset because he can't write a f*cking POEM about the world if he knows the SCIENCE behind it.
I suppose he likes to write POEMS about how beautiful it is to watch children die when stem-cell reasearch could eventually save their lives. But that's f*cking SCIENCE isn't it, and it's preferable to believe in some sort of f*cking mystical BULL$HIT instead, that somehow their SOULS will be free and they'll live in happy fairy land or some such $hit.
F*ckwit. This is the sort of f*ckwit who likes to pretend that all the beautiful things mean there is a God, and that science is cold and "crude" because it eliminates the "beauty" he wants to see.
To which the esteemed Sir David Attenborough replies:
"...They [creationists] always mean beautiful things like hummingbirds. I always reply by saying that I think of a little child in east Africa with a worm burrowing through his eyeball. The worm cannot live in any other way, except by burrowing through eyeballs. I find that hard to reconcile with the notion of a divine and benevolent creator."
Well that's two of us, Richard, but f*cking Tom here could write a f*cking POEM about it. Explain to me the F*CKING SPIRITUAL POETIC ELEMENT of that worm, Tom, you f*cken idiot.
And then it comes. The Grand Finale of Tom's F*ckwit Concerto.
"Such science is also inhibited from asking whether life has any meaning, as this would require stepping outside the processes that led its practitioners to the point of questioning."
Those processes that include, PROOF, EXAMINATION and RE-EXAMINATION OF FACT and robust CHALLENGING OF IDEAS AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN. Those "processes" that have f*cking emerged over time from a CRUCIBLE that values FACT over BULL$HIT. Those f*cking "processes" that have given us everything around us from the ability to harness power from the world around us to saving lives by placing one man's heart inside another's body. Those f*cking "processes" that evolved in ruthless fashion, eliminating every ounce of BULL$HIT that sought to creep in, that bound themselves to accept every result, now matter how baffling, if it was PROVED.
Yeah, F*CK ALL THAT.
Because Tom has to have some f*cken MEANING to his life. He has to feel all warm and fuzzy about himself and why we're all here. And he can't do that without a big f*cken made-up invisible man in the sky. Because he can't accept that 2 + 2 must equal 4, it has to be able to equal FIVE in his f*cken peabrain, or else HE has difficulty enjoying SUNSETS and WALKS ON THE BEACH, for f*ck's sake.
What I don't get is why THE REST OF US WITH F*CKEN SENSE HAVE TO SUFFER FOR YOUR IGNORANCE, TOM, so f*cken EXPLAIN THE MEANING OF THAT, PLEASE!