Aw, Kleinheider, I Almost Made It All Day

I was going to make it all day without posting about you, but I just can’t let this one slide by.  If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re “Ha, ha, ha, good god, that’s so damn wrong I have to collect myself just to be able to post about it” wrong, but just “Hmm, maybe but I don’t think I buy that,” wrong.


You link to Jay Bush, who says:



We’re in a war in Iraq, not just to secure a military victory, but to win the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people. Only when the Iraqis are convinced freedom is worth fighting for will their government be successful. That’s why it’s troubling to learn that one our greatest tools for reaching Iraqis, the Voice of America, shut down it’s Arabic and Farsi service in 2003 and replaced them with a format of disposable American pop music that includes Britney Spears, Eminem and J-Lo.


He thinks that, “While our cultures are worlds apart, the ideals of liberty and equality are universal. That is the message we should be sending Iraqis — not how ‘bootylicious’ Beyonce is.”


But don’t you guys see how genius this is?


Think of it this way.  If you had a choice right now between NPR and music, which would you take?  Okay, which do you think most Americans would take?  Do you think that people in Iraq were just dying to hear a bunch of people talking a bunch of bullshit on the radio?


I doubt it.


And if you want to communicate American ideals like equality and liberty and the importance of capitalism and how much fun sex is and how authority should not be trusted, what better way to do it than with our music?  People will listen.  People will sing along.  And those ideas will take root.


Again, think of it this way.  If I told you that when you looked at a naked woman, you would see her mammary glands towards the top of her torso, a navel, and then farther down, the mons pubis, which may or may not be covered in hair, depending on the fashion of the day and the woman’s preference, and that you should be aware that American women are known for having thighs, would that put you in the mood for sex?


What if I told you that some men find the fleshy round buttocks of women especially erotic and that women so endowed use this to their advantage?


Still not feeling it?


But what if you hear:


She had the sightless eyes
Telling me no lies
Knockin’ me out with those American thighs
Taking more than her share
Had me fighting for air
She told me to come but I was already there


or


I shake my jelly at every chance
When I whip with my hips you slip into a trance
I’m hoping you can handle all this jelly that I have


?


Of course you do.  And that’s just one of the wonderfully subversive powers of popular music.


We want to change their culture?  It only makes sense to use tools we know work.


No one uses NPR as the soundtrack to their revolution.

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What Would Libertarians Do?

I’m embarrassed to say that I’m hiding in my office pretending to be at lunch because a really, really smelly guy wants to make an appointment with me and he’s waiting out in the hall, thinking I must at any minute return, even though my co-workers have told him that he must leave, now, and never come back.

Did I mention that, with my door shut, and him out in the hall, I can still smell him?  What if he never leaves?

It Needs to Be a Punishment

Dear 3/4 Jew,


Do you have any idea how delightful George Clooney is?  He’s so charming that, if you were on a long road trip with him and he farted in the car and then tried to act all like he didn’t, even though you were the only two in the car, you’d find it funny, not annoying.


So, let’s imagine that I’m laying in bed happily exhausted after a wonderful night of sweet lovemaking to George Clooney.  You know the type, where you come so hard that, afterwards, you lays there and hear this shshswhwhwhshehshwhsh* in your ears and just for kicks, as he’s laying there next to you, he’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear while reaching between your legs and you involuntarily give another little shudder or two, which are not quite orgasms, but still feel pleasantly like the Universe is giving you small kisses right on your soul.


And after that, if George Clooney, the world’s most charming man ever, with the world’s second most desirable penis**, then looked me straight in the eye and said, “All you shallow American girls complain why us good guys like asian, spanish and european women over you, cut or uncut I think it’s because they aren’t so caught up in their stupidity and rhetoric that they forgot how to be women.” I would kick that fucker to the curb just as fast as you can say ‘Jack Robinson.’


And that’s George Clooney.


If you, ordinary “good guy,” want to show up some place talking about waving your sweaty stinky balls in my face and how much American women suck and how you hope that we all come back reincarnated as women who are going to be genitally mutilated, no matter what your overall point might be, your whole “That’s why us good guys like Asian, Spanish, and European women better than you” (and for the record, Spain is in Europe) does not make any of us despair; it makes us think of Bre’r Rabbit and his briar patch.


No, no, a 3/4 Jew, don’t leave us for Asian, Spanish, and European women!  No, please, don’t take your stinky balls and your whole “I’ll punish you by not showering and then forcing you to suck my cock” bullshit elsewhere.  No, you seem like such a nice guy.  It’d be so devastating for all American women to lose a chance to see your cock.


Just a word of advice,


Aunt B.


 


 


 


*Rachel, if this is not normal, and means I’m going to die or something, please don’t tell me.


**With Exador having the first, of course.

A Good Cry

I forgot to tell you guys that I heard from the folks out east about my play.  They don’t think it’s quite right and they want me to revise it and resubmit it.  Which is better than a "no" which is better than them just throwing it on the ground and laughing, but it’s not a yes.  Or a guarantee of anything.

Which kind of makes me mad that I’ve been feeling just so fucking down and off-kilter and unsure of myself, because now is when I need to feel confident and amazing and creative and all like "Well, shoot, folks, I just wrote that in two days.  Imagine what I could do with time to revise!"

And then I could throw my head back in evil laughter and think some big awesome thoughts and affix them to paper and launch my new career as a world famous famous person or something.

I wonder if it would help if I just had a good cry.

I’m not really sad, but maybe a good cry would shake me up and shake stuff loose.  Let me get out of my own way or something.  I don’t know.

I just want to be good enough to do this.  I really need that.  And I’m terrified that I’m not going to be.

They recommended a book.  And so I bought it from Amazon.  It should be here tomorrow.

And so I’ll read it. 

And we’ll see how it goes.

Breathe in; breathe out.

So, this is what it’s like to be on this end of the process.

You learn something new every day.

It kind of sucks.

Dog Doc, I’m Calling You Out!

Last night, I drank beer with a veterinarian. I should have challenged him to an animal sew-up-a-thon.

After all, I’ve sewn two bears together. I bet he’s never done that.

On another note, can you believe that people have been asking me to get better, close-up pictures of that silver thing on the front of that house, but no one has asked to see the completed LiBEARtarian.

Well, tough shit, folks. You’re going to look at the LiBEARtarian and like it.

As you can see, the longer arms are very cute.

finalbears.jpg

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