Posts filed under ‘community’


I may have to say farewell to love for my (other) boo … my comedic counsel … my satirical soul-mate … ‘cuz he has brought the WRONG, y’all!!

My hopefullyhecanredeemhimselfbecasueIdon’twanttosaygoodbyetomy Ihopenotsoontobeformerlove Katt Williams was supposed to bring the hee hee during a performance in Phoenix last weekend but instead he just brought the ‘Oh HAYULL NAW!’

Because he went there.
Because Tracey Morgan’d himself and that, my friends, is a taint you almost can’t terminate.

During his show, the Pimp Chronicler singled out a man seated near the stage and asked him if he was Mexican.
::: ruh roh :::

“It appears to me y’all like it over here a lot,” Williams then said.
::: here we go :::

Cue the tirade in 3 … 2 …

“If y’all had California, and you loved it, you shouldn’t have gave that motherfucker up! You should have fought for California, goddamn it! Since you loved it.”

The audience member then stood up and said “This is Mexico, motherfucker!” to which Williams replied by turning in his direction, stomping his foot and responding “You think I’m dissing Mexico and I’m defending America. Do you know where Mexico is? No, this ain’t Mexico, it used to be Mexico, motherfucker, and now it’s Phoenix, goddammit. USA! USA!”

Now, kiddies, this is the part where I don’t have to tell you that this heated little exchange headed straight for the land of NOT GOOD with no detours, pit stops or bathroom breaks … because it did.

Because NOT GOOD is disparaging another person’s culture and heritage and should never be confused with defending your own.
Because it’s not.

After singing a bit of the national anthem — which Williams apparently either doesn’t realize or doesn’t care was written by slave-owner Francis Scott Key — he exploded with “Fuck, we were slaves, bitch! Y’all just work like that at the landscapers, motherfucker! It’s not even racial, you’re a bitch!”

Except that, well, I love you Katt, but let’s put it out there, ‘kay hon?
It was racial.
And it was undeserved.
Which makes it, like, you know — wrong ‘n stuff.

It wasn’t ‘edgy comedy’.
It was ignorance and undeserved mean-spiritedness toward someone else on the sole basis of ethnicity.
Which — stay with me here — makes it racial.
Which also like, you know — makes it wrong ‘n stuff.

Outrage over the incident has roundly risen everywhere, including the national Latino advocacy group, which petitioned for — and seems to have perhaps, maybe, on some level received — an apology.

A very dry white toast, probably publicist-penned apology, that is.

“My remarks were not meant to be offensive. I want to apologize if my comedy act was taken out of context. I sincerely appreciate my fans within the Mexican community and would never intentionally go out of my way to offend them.”

Not exactly dripping with sincerity there.
Just sayin’.

Katt, baby, if history is any guide toward the future – we’ll see if you do sincerely appreciate your fans — from all communities.
Or if you just appreciate their money.

I know which one I hope it is.

September 1, 2011 at 1:59 pm

Nature’s a muthah

Not that you didn’t know that obvious obviousity alfuckingready, but apparently some folks didn’t … and had to get their study on to get a gat damn clue.

So here’s the nugget:
If you start bringin’ the crazy all of a sudden – don’t panic.
It’s ok.

Because it’s, like, 100% Mother Nature’s fault.
::: subsitute teachers, guidance counselors, babysitters and parents everywhere breathe a sigh of relief :::

A report being released today titled ‘A Climate of Suffering: The Real Cost of Living with Inaction on Climate Change’ says the past 15 years of planet cracking has been a ”preview of life under unrestrained global warming”.

FUUUUUCK – this shit’s gonna get worse?
::: rhetorical question, of course it is – you thought 2010 was an anomaly?! :::

The report is the culmination of someone’s idea of serious researchological determinerifficality, prepared real special-like for the Climate Institute, and it puts the loss of social cohesion in the wake of severe weather events related to climate change squarely in the center of the blame circle of things that could possibly, likely be linked to increased rates of anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress and substance abuse.

”What we have seriously underestimated is the effects on social cohesion,” said Professor Ian Hickie, the executive director of the Brain and Mind Research Institute. “That is very hard to rebuild and they are critical to the mental health of an individual.”


Dude, being stranded in your own flooded house with no running water (YUCK!) during a three-day power outage (BLECH!) with only a few gallons of wine to drink (PTOO .. oh wait, that was just good planning) wondering how the hell you’re even going to get out of your own neighborhood (SCARY!) if you run out (SCARIER!!!) clued The Cookie in to that whole anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress and substance abuse ACK!!! after Hurricane Jeanne upended my shit in 2004!

Save yourself the next few thousand and spend some time in SoFla during a truly heinous hurricane and you can studerifically conclusionize for FREE all day long!


August 30, 2011 at 1:48 pm

Wait. What?

I roll my rubber over ^this mess^ every day and ask myself this question:
What in idiotic indicatory indication hell is this fucked up shit?!?

After many weeks and much thought, I have decided there is only one possible answer.

It is the fucked up indicatory indication that some jive-ass fool in the Palm Beach County Engineering and Public Works Department thought was just this side of  ‘ehh, s’good enough this close to Happy Hour’ to be permanently placed on the pavement, thus perplexing passers-by in perpetuity.


Exhibit A:
The arrows.

Two lanes arrow left … into southbound Military Trail. Ok.
One lane arrows right … into northbound Military Trail. Good.
One lane arrows ahead … into … a … concrete wall. Uh, notsomuch!

::: Although I’m sure it’s a certain kind of tee-hee to see Sylvia all wide-eyed and
white-knuckling it while bringin’ the ”turn Melvin” ”It’s a turn, Melvin”

Exhibit B:
The name.

Last I checked, that long road that runs up and down the East Coast, stretching from Florida to Maine is one of those do-hickeys called an Interstate and is assigned one of those two-digit numbers (key word there, peeps — NUMBERS) that gets bigger as you travel West to East, explaining why it’s all the way up there at 95 everywhere it’s referenced.

Except here.

Because on the day this bit of the byway was being branded, Mr. Jive-ass fool must have been hittin’ the pipe pretty hard because — and I’m no super-sleuth or anything — that looks like a P … a backwards P … which makes it, like, a LETTER instead of, you know, a number, which makes me sad because I have to conclude Mr. Jive-ass fool is the product of a Mississippi public school education that came to what I can only conclude was a rather convulsive end at about the 6th grade.


But hey, you know me. Always looking for the silver lining; The Rainbow; THE BRIGHT SPOT!
No, wait.
That’s not me.
That’s my green-eyed friend.

But if I was like that I’d have to say a silent prayer of PRAISE JESUS Mr. Jive-ass fool isn’t responsible for directing traffic to, say, Ichnetucknee Springs or some shit.

Is he?

*hat-tip to JR for puttin’ jive-assery on the menu 😉

August 25, 2011 at 8:06 pm


You bitches are hangin’ with bitches who are, well, BITCHES!
And this time I am not using one of my all-time, ultra fave words in a good way.

Because I can’t.

Because and SELF magazine got themselves a certain kind of together and surveyed a big ol’ BUNCH of you (18,000 women and 4,000 men to be precise) and found out that y’all are straight up pallin’ around with some seriously poisonous peeps, yo!

Which makes me all WHY, BITCHES?!?

A full 65% of you admit enduring that douche who has THE best car, THE hottest wife, THE best job, THE answer for everything, THE douchiest douchness of all douchiosity – AKA: The Narcissist.
::: Seriously Blaine, can’t ya just shutthefuckUP for a skinny little sec?! :::

Fifty-nine percent of you kowtow to The Critic. You know the one — that cunt who’s always correcting, chastising, castigating, condemning or otherwise cutting your shit down every chance she gets. Yeah, her.
 ::: Oh but thank you sooooo soverymuch Bethany for always being the first to know exactly how eeeeeveryone in the office should have done eeeeeverything, aaaall the time, eeeeevery minute of eeeeevery day. Your colleagues truly can’t WAIT to pay your cunt ass back. Truly. They talk about it aaaall the time, eeeeevery minute of eeeeeevery day. :::

And Darla Depressesme? A fucked up 55% of you admit giving cheese to her whine, while 45% are spending time with some sick trick whose sole aim is to undermine  your every move and 37% are apparently friends with some dumb flake who spends her days roping you into her never ending whatamigonnaDOOOOO mylifeissuchamess dramathon you just can’t turn off.


Because that’s a serious question.

Because after reading the results of the and SELF magazine survey, I surveyed mySELF and mySELF has conclusionized, decisionized and all-out prophesized that you are being force-fed one ginormous slice of WASTE OF TIME PIE any time you acquiesce to the demands of fool friends or encourage their emotional exhaustion or criminal attacks on those precious clock ticks that constitute your LIFE.

So, like, fucking stop it already, ‘kay sweets?

Because I don’t want to have to tell you again!!

::: she shouts … stepping down from the bully pulpit 😉 :::


August 22, 2011 at 3:55 pm 5 comments

Dumbass of the day

But it’s not who you think.

I mean, you’d think it’d be Brianna here for gettin’ her panties in a BIG ol’ bunch over some messages on her cellphone, channeling her inner Tyson, breakin’ out a wooden nut cracker and schooling her boyfriend on the art of DON’T DO THAT!

I mean, I could see how you’d think that.
Because it’s a pretty dumbass thing to do.
And a pretty dumbass reason to do it.

But Brianna Del Rio isn’t today’s dumbass.
Her boyfriend is.

And you know why.

Because any normal, sane, sober person over the age of FETUS can take one look at that hot slut and know Bri’s a bitch with which you do not fuck.

Drink. Her. IN!

If confronted by a woman with eyebrows so razor sharp even drag queens won’t go there, eyes so dead they’d burn a hole right through your soul and lips so perfectly pursed she doesn’t even NEED to give you the hand – would you for one millisecond of a nanosecond even consider giving her anything close to resembling the likeness of a hard time about … fuck, ANYTHING?!?

Of course you wouldn’t.

But he, apparently, did.
And you know what?
I bet the lovebirds are back in the news as soon as she makes bail …

… and he tries to make up …

… the dumbass


August 15, 2011 at 6:42 pm 2 comments


Well, sort of.
In a way.
If you cock your head to the right and squint REAL hard while staring out a dirty window at dusk on a foggy night it could kind of potentially maybe seem like something along the lines of a request type deal.

Yeah, if you do that.
Which I did.
So it did!

And, while I’m normally all ‘you’re not the boss of me! I do what I WANT!’ when you bitches make demands on my time … this one had legs!

“Another blog idea,” my friend John wrote me last night after I told him I was shoe shopping.
“Why do people have to pay money for something that hurts their feet?”

My first inclination was to school him on the business of being fucking FEMALE, which means a life lived at the whims and mercies of the gods and fate and DNA and history and cupcakes and motherfucking nature and everything else out of our control that controls us most of the time.
But that seemed like a lot of effort, so I went another way.

“Paying for something that hurts – SO many places to go with that one!” 😉

“Yep. That would be a conversation starter for your readers,” he responds.

Ed. Note: John has seen certain posts by yours truly but doesn’t have a link to the ludicriousness we call LIAC because John practices actual journalism with all it’s journalism-y ethics and principles and shit and he would probably suffer some kind of anaphylactic shock or something if he read what basically is to journslism what Tara Reid is to acting or Rebecca Black is to the music industry and I can’t have that on my conscience so really what I’m doing here (aside from concocting the most gloriously lengthy and unjustifiable runon sentence in the entire and whole known history of the written word) is a totally unselfish act on his behalf because, you know, I’m a life saver – A HERO – like that.

But I digress …

“Give them the five stupidest things people pay good money for that brings them pain,” he wrote, which made me wonder what SpringDaddy would look like in a submissive’s hood …

“In no partciular order, these come to mind:
1. Sex, of course. And you can have a field day with that.
::: I usually do, John! 😉 :::

2. Shoes
::: John meet Jade. Jade? John. :::

3. Bras
::: Well, umm yes … but if we didn’t put them on, what would you get to take off, John?! 😉 :::

4. Life insurance. Come on people, paying YOUR money to give to others when YOU die. I know it serves a purpose to help survivors, but what a racket.
::: TRUTH!! Which is why I spend all MY money on hookers and blow, John! :::

5. Fiery hot foods with peppers than burn your mouth when eaten.
::: Wait. That doesn’t work. I mean, how else can I justify the gallon of Pinot I washed it down with, John?!? Hellloooo — that’s straight up strategerie right there! :::

And what about you bitches?
What are you out there blowin’ your wad on that’s bringin’ the oweez?

Enquiring minds John wants to know 😉

August 11, 2011 at 3:25 pm 2 comments

Would I lie to you?


Uhh … what I meant to say was ‘of course – not!

That’s it.

But I could put on my Fibber McGee pants and walk you through a veritable WORLD of whoppers!
And it’d be ok.

Because lying is like, a thousand kinds of good!

Is so!

Because there was studification of that shit at an actual institute-type place in Canadia that, like, PROVES it ‘n stuff!

The Institute of Child Study at Toronto University surveyed 1,200 little labbers aged two to 17.
And you know what they found?
::: yeah, I know I jumped that shark already, just go with me here :::

1. Tellin’ tales is a developmental benchmark kind of dealio denoting intellectual development.
2. We get better at bringin’ the bullshit as we get older.

You pickin’ up what they’re puttin’ down out there?!?
Lying is, like, a sign of SMARTNESS!!


But you gotta ease gently into the pool of prevarication, apparently.

Only a fifth of 2-year-olds were able to lie, but by age 4, 90% of the preshuss snowflakes were capable of pullin’ the wool.

And the ability to fudge the facts purportedly peaks at age 12, which means the minors in your midst are flat-out mastering that mess as they mature.

Britney isn’t going to any after-school study group, is she?


August 9, 2011 at 2:08 pm 3 comments

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