convienently glossed over the fact that his (white) representative inconceiveably tried, failed, and then complained when he was denied membership to Tennessee’s Black Legislative Caucus, strangely this wasn’t the most embarrassing and head-scratching moment from a Republican on Wednesday.

Rep. Stacey Campfield (R-Knoxville) probably thought he had won the most dumbassed statement of the day when he complained about his rebuff to the 18-member caucus, but he would have been wrong.

On any other day saying something as ignorant as “My understanding is that the KKK doesn’t even ban members by race,” would have earned the freshman lawmaker from the Instapundit’s city the dubious distinction of being the day’s dingiest dumbass, especailly after adding that the most famous racist American hatemongers, the Klan, “has less racist bylaws” than the black lawmakers’ group.

But the racist of the day, infact, has to go to Fox News Contributor, and former Drug Czar Bill Bennett who yesterday on his nationally-syndicated radio show said that if all Black pregnancies were aborted, US crime would go down.

That’s right, Ronald Reagan’s former Secretary of Education went there

on the radio

for everyone to hear,

or in mediamatters’ case, to transcribe:

I do know that it’s true that if you wanted to reduce crime, you could — if that were your sole purpose, you could abort every black baby in this country, and your crime rate would go down. That would be an impossible, ridiculous, and morally reprehensible thing to do, but your crime rate would go down. So these far-out, these far-reaching, extensive extrapolations are, I think, tricky.

oh, and they also have an mp3

bennett however doesn’t speculate on how less crime there’d be if you aborted every white baby, or every Christian baby, or every baby from republican parents — which is the flaw to his arguement and the essence of his racism. for some reason he simply chose to single-out Black babies, even though Blacks only account for 11% of the nation.

if one was to take bennett’s approach, that of aborting children to prevent crime, why not abort all children, or all baby boys. surely you’d nip in the bud far more potential criminals that way.

but instead the author of the Book of Virtues, The Moral Compass, and The Children’s Book of Faith targeted, in his example, only Black fetuses.

was it a Black baby who grew up to be the House Majority Leader who was indicted today for allegedly money laundering aka conspiracy today?

was it a Black baby who grew up to be the Senate Majority Leader who was allegedly given insider information which prompted him to dump his stock before it dramatically fell, prompting the SEC to formally begin its investigation today?

according to Bennett’s eye-opening theory, if those men were aborted as children those alleged crimes wouldnt have happened and thus the crime rate would have gone down.

racism is a tricky thing, he’s right. you have to open your mouth, stick your foot in there, and shove it deep down your throat while singling out one minority race to unjustly stereotype in a negative, and oftentimes, violent way.

the instapundit’s representative displayed the ignorant side of racism, but Bill Bennett showed the horrifyingly eerie and cruel side of racist thought that many thought was overreaching to even bring up during the tragedies in New Orleans.

but here we have two more examples of right wing white men in positions of power spreading their ignorance and hate so casually and boldly that they dont even blink.

it’s tricky to be a horse’s ass.

We are not thugs we don’t use drugs but you assume on your own
They offer coke and lots of dope but we just leave it alone
It’s like that y’all (y’all), but we don’t quit
You keep on shock shock… Cause this is it…

buzzmachine + raymi + a blog soup + bicycle mark

this thing isnt supposed to look like this, its not supposed to read like this, its not supposed to be like this. its supposed to be punk rock and edgy, arty and poetic, sexy and surreal,

scary and hairy and all kinds of weird turned into weirder still.

and all the fly ladies are supposed to throw their virtual panties in the air while the cash money millionaires offer me better deals than the next.

but i’ll take what is instead. which is this. and by this i mean the busblog writing something true and good and real and surreal and weird and wonderful and sexy and hopeful and ideal and rockin and beautiful.

the cubs made it.

today they slammed the door on the central and they said fuck houston, fuck st. louis, and fuck pittsburg with a doubleheader sweep.

as if it werent a thing.

theres two ways i could handle this. i could do what i did all year and try to play it cool, or i could write about the cubs every day like you know i should.

after the game karisa invited me over to eat some of her homemade clam chowdah.

it was pretty damn good.

what the cubs did today they havent done in 14 years. that means some of the girls ive dated lately were 5 years old the last time my team was in the playoffs. my shit is so wrong.

best part of karisas chowder was the bacon. nice little tasty morsals. how ya gonna beat that?

for her sake i hope the redsox make it to the world series against the cubs.

and i hope it gets to a seventh game, cuz everyone knows that the last four times the sox were in the world series they lost in the seventh game. but thats mean.

wouldnt mind taking on the yankees either.

but first its the mighty hotlanta braves. a team that took four out of six from the cubbies during the regular season.

but you know what.

fuck atlanta who always rolls over in rocktober anyway and then bring on the giants.

the way wont be easy

but it will be good.

prior sosa

moises

and wood.

nickerblog + superjux + lonely in japan + maizzy wearing a brownie shirt

today

i was cutting my filet mignon in first class jetting from miami to LAX thinking about how red meat doesn’t agree with me any more. thinking about how i don’t like hugh grant and i really don’t like him when he’s really good in really good movies like “about a boy.” i was doing my best to resist the luxury the rich have become used to. i was trying to keep it real.

the blonde stewardess had a bottle of red in one hand and a bottle of white in the other. i was chewing on a mouthful of spinach salad and buttering my warm sourdough roll and i nodded towards the red.

i wasn’t keeping shit real.

i did have surfer shorts on, an ac/dc tshirt, marilyn manson on the mp3 cd player that my good buddy got me off my wishlist last year. but i was laughing at a film produced by the makers of bridget jones diary and about to dive back into a novel i was totally loving from the oprah book club.

i knew things were really bad when i couldn’t keep my eyes off the clouds.

they were amazing. i wasn’t on drugs. i wasn’t in love. i wasn’t emotional in any way, i was entranced by them. they were like rockstars up there, i couldn’t keep my eyes off of them and i couldn’t believe i was so close to them. i was in the front row, i was backstage, i was on stage.

they were great flying over texas, they were great over new mexico. there weren’t any in palm springs but they were creeping that way and they covered the entire LA basin and as we made our descent they were like snow that had been skied over by thousands of vacationers. they were still. they were stoic. they had stories to tell about their creation. they were going somewhere. they were covering a news story. they were peeking at our lives.

over miami they stole the sun and sifted the rays. in la they were the sunscreen. spf 75. in aruba they simply provided sunshowers, tears from the gods who had no beachtowels.

it made me want to be a pilot. but only on cloudy days.

this is the busblog and i wouldn’t be totally honest if i didn’t reveal that when i changed trains today at wilshire and vermont i took the wrong train for the first time in over a year. i took the train that wasn’t going to take me to work, but take me back home, where the gorgeous twenty year old was snoozing in my bed, hopefully dreaming of nice things instead of allowing the demons to whisper silly lies in her dreams.

i don’t deserve any of the good that comes my way. for the record. i don’t deserve the incredibly delicious wine flavored au jus on my steak or the leather recliner or blonde stewardesses or the island girls, or the vacations, or the attentions, or the friends who pick me up at the airport, or the ones who call me upon arrival, or the raiders kicking ass, or you, or this, or that.

but i will take it and i will appreciate it.

and i will do my best not to lie so much the rest of this year.

i stole an LA Times today from a machine and i don’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

house majority leader steps down, will karl rove will be next? developing…

click here to join one or both of these Private Leagues

two leagues for you to pick from: one live draft 10/15, one on 10/16

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good luck, but i will win 🙂

monday and tuesday night were waiting for me on my tivo and it made me think and think and think and then it made me miss ashley.

as you know ive had a blessed life. there should never be a time when im black on the inside or black on the blog or black at all except in my heart, but there in a good way.

i missed ashley because sometimes id put dylan on when we’d make out and you really cant do that with a teenager at the turn of the century who knows all the words to incubus but nothing from blood on the tracks.

and youd think that those wouldnt be the types of girls id make out with but pretty much everyone is wrong about me.

people love to put people in boxes is what i learned from this dylan doc.

folk singer.

creative.

pretty much every job that ive ever had they say at first that im not organized and i just let them say what they wanna say cuz theyre not gonna listen too close to me anyways.

just like how you cant explain bob dylan to a topless teenager in a hotel room in frisco, people will either eventually figure out that some things arent like anything else in the world, or they’ll miss the boat entirely.

bob dylan means the world to me.

what i learned from him is to keep your head down and dont listen to the boundaries being pushed because of course theyre going to screech and howl

and when the reporters ask their questions lie and smile.

when i was in college i wrote a little peice for the santa barbara news-press. it wasnt a long thing it was short and they didnt put it in the regular part of the newspaper they put it on the front page of the classifieds.

i was a writer at the time for the college paper and even though i didnt have any exclusive thing going for the paper, im a loyal man. and the only reason i did it was cuz the fratboy associated students president did it the week before so when the newspress called our office and asked me to write something in rebuttal to stir up some controversy the good people of santa barbara lompoc and goleta could turn to the classifieds and go to the campus corner and see the mudslinging there.

the newspress thought they were so smart getting the red ants and the black ants to fight for their folly next to mattresses being sold and prayers being offered up to st. christopher.

but the black kid with the afro holding the skateboard next to his column about the sellout president of the students had the last laugh because secretely the only reason that i did that column was because i noticed that the AS president had listed his grade point average, major, year next to his name

so when the editor asked me my major i said english, when he asked me my year i said junior and when he asked me my gpa i lied and said 3.9 knowing full well that those bastards had no time or inclination to fact check such a petty thing like the gpa of the sports editor of the paper.

especially since i had attacked the president so hard in my column accusing him of trying to impress his boyfriends at his frathouse, excuse me, brothers, by sucking up to the chancellor and doing her bidding by voting for what she wished etc etc.

so when it ran i clipped it, and mailed it to my mother and said ma your boy finally has a respectable gpa!

and my poor mother was deathly afraid that id be sued by the paper until i told her that if she looked closer to the picture of her son holding the skateboard she would plainly see that my fingers were crossed.

which in california completely absolves you of any crime.

sex and hockey + futur is ticky + gorilla mask + raptor blog

Who’s Brownie? Former FEMA Cheif Michael Brown who, after the horrendous (in)actions of his department was asked to return to Washington DC a few days after the flooding in New Orleans and later resigned.

The quote “Heck of a job, Brownie” comes from President George Bush upon his first visit to Louisiana, apparently not being told the extent of mishaps that Brown’s team was responsible for.

Heres a sample of those bunglings from three different articles:

New York Times 9/11/05:

“The agency dispatched only 7 of its 28 urban search and rescue teams to the area before the storm hit and sent no workers at all into New Orleans until after the hurricane passed on Monday, Aug. 29.”
http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif
“Rather than initiate relief efforts — buses, food, troops, diesel fuel, rescue boats — the agency waited for specific requests from state and local officials.”

“Hundreds of firefighters, who responded to a nationwide call for help in the disaster, were held by the federal agency in Atlanta for days of training on community relations and sexual harassment before being sent on to the devastated area.”

“FEMA would not let the trucks unload,” Mr. Vines said in an interview. “The drivers were stuck for several days on the side of the road about 10 miles from Camp Beauregard. FEMA said we had to have a ‘tasker number.’ What in the world is a tasker number? I have no idea. It’s just paperwork, and it’s ridiculous.”

Washington Post 9/11/05:

“Around midnight, at the last of the day’s many conference calls, local officials ticked off their final requests for FEMA and the state. Maestri specifically asked for medical units, mortuary units, ice, water, power and National Guard troops. ‘We laid it all out,’ he recalled. ‘And then we sat here for five days waiting. Nothing!'”

August 29: “‘We were all watching the evacuation,’ Maj. Gen. Richard Rowe, Northcom’s top operations officer, recalled. ‘We knew that it would be among the worst storms ever to hit the United States.’ But on Monday, the only request the U.S. military received from FEMA was for a half-dozen helicopters.”

August 30: “Col. Jeff Smith, Louisiana’s emergency preparedness chief, grew frustrated at FEMA’s inability to send buses to move people out….’They have a tracking system and they’d say: “We sent 349.” But we didn’t see them.'”

“At the noon videoconference, several participants said, Louisiana’s Smith heatedly demanded federal help. Where were the buses? At first, Smith recalled, he had asked for 450 buses, then 150 more, then an additional 500; by the end of the day, none had arrived. The first evacuees did not arrive at the Astrodome until 10 p.m. Wednesday — on a school bus commandeered by a resourceful 20-year-old.”

September 1: “On Thursday, after FEMA took over the evacuation, aviation director Roy A. Williams complained that ‘we are packed with evacuees and the planes are not being loaded and there are gaps of two or three hours when no planes are arriving.’ Eventually, he started fielding ‘calls from airlines saying, “Well, we are being told by FEMA that you don’t need any planes.” And of course we need planes. I had thousands of people on the concourses.'”

Time 9/19/05:

“While people were dying in New Orleans, the U.S.S. Bataan steamed offshore, its six operating rooms, beds for 600 patients and most of its 1,200 sailors idle.

Foreign nations — responding to urgent calls from Washington — readied rescue supplies, then were told to stand by for days until FEMA could figure out what to do with them.”

“Last Thursday, as the Red Cross began distributing its own debit cards, thousands stood for hours in the 93 (degree) heat outside the Astrodome in Houston for FEMA cards that never came.”

so how did BushCo reward Brownie after he resigned in shame because of the one-two punch of having shown no leadership ability, organizational skills, or wherewithall to handle the disaster in the Gulf Coast AND having been exposed as having lied all over his resume which also outted him as someone who had no experience in these matters?

Well yesterday they hired him to be a consultant

for FEMA.

heck of a job, Brownie.

keep up these sorts of quotes and we’ll be making new shirts soon:

“I know what I am doing. And I think I do a pretty darn good job of it.” – Brownie, 9/27/05

(the profits of the tshirts go to the Red Cross)

original coverage of this scandal + get your brownie merch here

ive learned a lot of things in my 109 years. ive just started to learn not to take things personally. that was a tough one. i still do sometimes like when semi-super models pull down my sweatpants and then point and laugh and try to stop themselves but then errupt into uncontrollable laughter as they put their tight sweaters back on and laugh right out the door.

ive learned to be more patient. but not all that much. i guess thats the one i need the most help with because life is fragile and time flies and between my reckless bus drivers and my penchant for greasy foods, my days walking this crust are few and far between and while im here i wouldnt mind meeting more people and spreading good will towards men and better will towards women.

speaking of which, last night at the tsar show, a very nice young woman introduced herself to me right in the middle of tsar rocking out. she said, hi, i read your blog all the time. i smiled and said, wow. thanks! then she told me that she had just moved out to LA and i clinked glasses with her but the magic of my favorite band was luring me away from any conversations, sweet as they might be.

anyway, nice young lady, thank you for saying hi to me, im sorry i didnt see you after the set, but i looked for you and then was rushed out the side door to my waiting limo. say hi to me at the next tsar show and i will be sure to buy you a welcome-to-hollywood shot of booze.

where was i? oh yes. major disappointments. i mean lessons. ive learned a lot of lessons over the centuries and one of them is how to deal with disappointments and failures. the hippies may scoff at sports, but if sports teach one thing it’s how to handle defeat.

some blow their stack and make a big sloppy mess after they dont get what they were shooting for, but nobody likes those people and that sort of energy rarely helps you win the next time. me, i prefer to shake hands with everyone afterwards and buy a round of drinks.

when i was younger i might have held a grudge or decided, ever idealistically, that if someone said no to me once that i wouldnt want anything to do with them ever again because they obviously didnt “get” me. ive learned over time that you should never burn a bridge unless its a terrible bridge that might already be on fire. and seriously, how many bridges have you seen lately that are on fire? outside of iraq, not very many.

what else have i learned over the years? always bet on black. never send a woman flowers unless shes your mother. and wear condoms every, single, time.

ive also learned that grammar and spelling are over-rated. always ask for exactly what you want. be super polite at all times. pray every day. be grateful for everything because in an instant it can go away. if some lame ass wants to blog war you, state your case, dont link them, and then move on.

and by all means, never bore your readers. ever.

reward people for reading your shit, and if you cant do it with your words, do it with your links.

originally posted two years ago yesterday

my second favorite shirt on my favorite redsox fan + sk smith + all things christie

deluxe cd/dvd is #1 in canada right now

for those of you who have picked it up,
would you mind telling those of us who havent how it is?
also tell us what your favorite song is on the collection

before i do it.

made it to the 5:30 showing of corpse bride at my favorite movie theatre The Vista and it was ok. but as soon as i got out of the door this crazy woman walked next to me

i know why Stiff isnt coming out.

why do i do this to myself.

why do i trust the world. why do i break my own rules why do i sometimes put true things on a blog thats perfectly happy with beautiful lies.

i know when you’ll die.

never know whats going on never care whats going on if she said she had a bag of weed ida told her i had a big black bong.

just stop for a second she told me its your heart its your heart that stops you.

not on a sunday i thought. no mediums or psycics on the Lords day. saturday or sunday i dont what they say. a long time ago i was in the woods in a chapel with these brothers, not brothas, brothers. they didnt touch me if thats what youre thinking, they touched me in a good place. they read the bible to me. no fucking around with their theories, they just read it to me.

there were some scrawny uncoordinated retards in there who just didnt wanna get slam dunked on in basketball hour, and if wasnt for bible study ida been out there with my crossover dribble and afro and redwhitenblue kneepads and wristbands and

the no look

bouncepass through the paint

i didnt need to be out there in the woods getting taught the word by the brothers as an escape as a shelter as an excuse. i was there cuz i wanted to be there cuz it was the best part of the day cuz it was the reason the Lord probably put me there, cuz everything has a reason even if its a bad reason so i stopped before i got to my car and said you have two minutes woman what do you need from me.

she said your heart is punk rock. you cant sell out without a fight. even if its something the people want. you cant do it. it took you years just to put ads on your page. the struggle of this book is ripping you apart and causing conflict in your life. you dont need the money you dont want the money you dont want to give away the money. youve already given it away free and its still free you dont want to make this because you know you’ll make a fortune and thats in conflict with your punk rock nature of fugazi and the pistols and the hero of your book. you dont want to put a gun in your mouth when you reach the mountain top so you’ll just shoot yourself in the foot before you get there.

my stomach hurt from the popcorn id just eaten.

but ive seen the future and you’ll be fine. less people will buy it than you think. but the right people will love it. its them you should think about. not the gibson sg you’ll buy. not the canon camera you’ll buy. not the bills you’ll pay. not the monster tires you’ll put on your ride.

she was ugly.

these are good stories that you made and youre stifling them by keeping them caged up. youve gotta let them go free. youve gotta let them see the light of day. youve gotta let them be ok away from you. youve gotta stop staring at your poo.

i told her. i think your time is up can you please walk away from me.

she said do you promise to release the book before your birthday.

i said every time i set a date its a curse. so no. i will make no promises to mediums or psychics who disrespect the sabbath. if i wanted a channeler id call up my friend ann who i respect and trust.

and she said how do you know ann isnt talking through me right now.

i said cuz ann knows how i feel about sundays.

and the woman said something that i didnt expect

she said

didnt Jesus heal on one particular Sunday.

and she bit her lip and walked away.

human landscape + paige + krista + happy birthday small island girl