Chateau LeFeet

Below is a story that's been circulating on the internet. Some are suggesting that it's a joke because the rest of the story is a list of possible names for the new concoction, some of which are hilarious, all of which are obvious jokes (or attempts at them).

Some Walmart customers soon will be able to sample a new discount item -- Walmart's own brand of wine. The world's largest retail chain is teaming up with E&J Gallo Winery of Modesto, Calif., to produce the spirits at an affordable price, in the $2-$5 range. "While wine connoisseurs may not be inclined to throw a bottle of Walmart brand wine into their shopping carts, there is a market for cheap wine," said Kathy Micken, professor of marketing at Roger Williams University in Bristol, RI.

If this is true, the end of days is near, my friends. First of all, cheap wines already exist. Names such as Boone's Farm and Thunderbird are legend in the ghetto (and college campuses).

To quote Cheech and Chong: What's the word? Thunderbird! What's the price? Thirty twice!

Secondly, do we really need a professor of marketing to tell us that there's a market for cheap wine? Recent polls suggest that 97% of college students didn't know wine came in bottles.* And who hasn't seen the homeless dude on the corner surrounded by the totality of his worldly possessions holding a bottle-shaped brown paper sack? I had an uncle who drank rubbing alcohol once, for the love of Pete (Pete only drinks sake).
That Wal-Mart has made no attempt to improve its image in higher end markets is surprising. Even Home Depot has a hoity-toity version of its store called Expo. Even more surprising is that you can go into the most aristocratic of neighborhoods and find a Wal-Mart nearby. And Daddy Warbucks is in there buying his baby snob a new Power Wheels or getting a gift card for Vicente the gardener's Christmas bonus. Makes you wonder if the purpose for putting the store there is so that the landscapers and the nannies will have a place to stop for eggs and tortillas on the way home. I mean, my experience is that the place is always full of Mexicans; my people flock to Wal-Mart like catfish on stinkbait. They don't just go there to shop, either; they go there to work. There's more Browns at Wal-Mart than semi-retirees and retards, you just don't see them. They're either in the back unloading the trucks or they're building a new one 5 miles down the road next to the Starbucks.

The new Uncle Sam has a last name - Walton. I have to give him a huge percentage of my money, and he has me convinced that I can't live without him. I go to him for everything from diapers to deodorant to deli meat to diesel fuel. Coming soon – Wal-Teeth, the discount dentist. I have my mouth firmly latched on to his left tit, and he's picking my pockets and stealing my shoes.
One of the stores near my house is slowly becoming a city. I can see the sign: Wal-Mart, TX City Limits – Population: 42,342 – Superior Water Supply. Can you imagine a police force of toothless, greasy-haired trash wearing open royal blue Kevlar vests over their street clothes? People will be buying guns at the sporting goods counter, robbing express lane register 1,224, getting arrested in the 125 screen theater (the Waliplex) like Lee Harvey Oswald, and spending the night at the Wal-Jail. The courthouse will be a beautiful historic sandstone structure right in the middle of the store and capital offenders will be quietly euthanized with Walphine, the new drug developed by pharmaceutical giant Wal-Merck. Hot damn, they'll even have a Wal-ffle House for the truckers to meet up with their discount tranny hookers (those damned lot lizards can't be trusted, most of them are real girls).

*I made that up.

Abortion's New Proponent or The Messiah as Commie Argument

And Bill Bennett spake:

"But 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."
And Bill Bennett looked, and he saw that it was good.

OMFG (slowly, with unblinking, glazed-over eyes)!

Somebody please tell me I didn't hear this. Somebody please tell me that this asshat (I agree Bam, it's a beautiful noun) doesn't have a radio show. Somebody please tell me that he isn't publicly defending his comments. Somebody give me a length of rope and an INXS CD; I want to go out with a bang (sort of).
As someone who tends to the right, I am frequently disgusted at the stellar ability of GOP politicians (and their advisors) to fall gracefully into the trap of being exactly what libs say they are. Not that the donkeys don't do just as good a job, but I neither vote for them nor feel compelled to defend their reasoning. Please God, give us politicians who don't give two shits what the party line is or where their toes are in relation to it.

Seriously, is what we have and what we rejected all there is to choose from? Am I the only person in this country who wants politicians to shut the fuck up and do something? Should I vote for Ted Jesuschristgod in the next election? Who is going to answer these questions?! And here's another: Why do Christians treat every republican who hates queers and single mothers like the manifestation of the second coming of the messiah? Listen to me, my people. Jesus was a commie! That's right! He didn't own so much as a rat turd! He depended on the kindness of strangers to whom he was guided by God! He shared everything he was given with whoever was in need! If he were here in the flesh today, he'd starve to death waiting for the gargantuan government to feed and clothe him while God searched the world over for someone who wasn't afraid to take him in without checking the sex offenders database first! Cameras would follow him around like fucking David Blaine waiting for his next trick! Zaccheus would report him for stalking!
"For I'm going to your house today! For I'm going to your house today!"
"Going to my house? I own a Tazer, motherfucker! I'll reauchambeaux you without a second thought, you tripped out hippy!"

I realize that none of my rantings will do anything to change the world, and I am not naïve enough to believe that my political desires will ever be fulfilled. All I ask is that you be pissed with me. C'mon, do it. Let's just boil in our anger for a moment and sin not. I gotta go pee.

What Did Brown Do For You?

Disclaimer: I am an American. As such, I love Americans. I don't care what state they're from or what dumbasses govern them. Conversely, I hate politicians-no matter what letter they have in front of their names.


I saw a little of Michael D. Brown's congressional testimony on CNN this morning, and he said something interesting. He pointed out to the group of scumbags questioning him that Katrina recovery operations went smoothly in Mississippi and Alabama, suggesting - nay, stating categorically - that the situation in The Big Toilet was a local problem. Muckrakers on the farthest fringes of the left are all over the internet pointing out that Alabama and Mississippi have Republican governors, so that (to them) explains the quick response in those states. I think those jackasses are absolutely right. I think those Republican governors got briefed quickly on the needs that existed, and then acted quickly in cooperation with the federal government and their cities' mayors to get those needs met. Christ Almighty, it amazes me that liberals don't even know when they are shooting themselves in the proverbial foot. I mean, dealing with the Louisiana government is like settin' here playing cards with my brother's kids or somethin'.

The fact is, the president is from Texas, so he's used to large cities having a plan for dealing with all kinds of eventualities. You can tell me all day that Kathleen Blanco and Ray Nagin were doing their jobs and doing them well, and I'll believe you if you can explain the school buses to me. See, NO's plan for evacuating it's citizens was to put them on school buses and drive them to….um…. somewhere. Of course, the buses ended up under water. See, there's this weird thing with internal combustion engines; they won't start when they can't intake air, and being submerged somehow prevents that. Its science crap, I can't explain it. Texas is a great example of how a state should act in the event of a catastrophic event (or the threat of one).

Recent polls show that 99% of Americans prefer the worst traffic jam in history over death by the inability to process oxygen from water.

Texas highways were opened on both sides to the traffic leaving affected areas. In Beaumont, service vehicles such as dump trucks, unused fire trucks and police cars, and debris removal vehicles were loaded on to Navy transport vessels that were ballasted to make them too heavy for the hurricane to affect. Galveston sent its mayor pro-tem to the mainland to ride out the storm in the event that communication was cut off to the island, the idea being that he could still contact the federal government to request assistance even if there was no communication with the island.
Wait a minute! What's that you say? Request assistance? You mean to tell me the government doesn't just watch Fox and Friends to find out what's needed? The local government has to ask for aid? That's right, sheep. Cities also have to come up with their own plans for evacuating people, rescuing people, feeding and housing REFUGEES (which Chambers defines as people seeking refuge), and dispatching emergency workers. These things are done IN ADVANCE of emergencies (at least they are in Texas).

I love Michael Brown's admission of fault: "My biggest mistake was not realizing by Saturday that Louisiana was dysfunctional."

Viva Tejas, putos!

Mi Welfare Es Su Welfare

I read a great article this morning by a woman called Star Parker (amazingly, she's neither as fat nor as stupid as a bovine bred for the properties of its lactic acid production), who runs something called the Coalition on Urban Renewal and Education. While she is neither fat nor stupid, she does share one thing in common with the famously bitchy co-host of The View; she's black. Now then, for those of you who think that I should have classified her as African-American, I offer this: Feel free to call me a Brown; I won't complain. I am known for my love of people of African descent and will happily oblige anyone who asks to be called African-American, even if they are white. But since the term black has yet to be classified as offensive and the NAACP is still the NAACP (God, I hope that's not an inside joke), I will continue to use black as a race classification. I find it endearing, thank you.
Ms. Parker is a bit of an oddity in modern American culture (if it can be classified as such); she seems to be a Republican. Not only that, she is opposed to such things as welfare and other big-government entitlement bullshit. (Note: I don't believe in curse words. They don't exist. We made them up and at some point decided they were rude, crude, and socially unacceptable. I know lots of people like that, and the FCC certainly doesn't fine me for having them over for burgers.) So this Lyndon Johnson guy was a democrat. He wanted black people to be donkeys, too because he knew that black people of the time were very excited at having been given the right to vote, and would use it. The overwhelming majority of the black people of 40 years ago remembered that our favorite clinically depressed historical figure (see The Atlantic) was a republican and the one who had signed the law that freed their ancestors from slavery. Naturally they were grateful, especially in light of the recent strides that had been made. As such, they voted GOP. Johnson wanted them something awful, and set out to find a way to win them over. My understanding is that he fancied them somewhat stupid and he figured he could study the polls to find the secret to their hearts. Johnson was one smart bastard. My theory is that he played on the whole reparations thing and figured there was an attitude of entitlement that could be used as a foundation for his plan.
Enter the "War on Poverty."
Fast forward to 40 years later and suddenly Einstein's definition of insanity comes to mind. Forty years of welfare has done jack squat to change the plight of black (or any other) poor people in America. Now the lemming-minded masses want even more entitlements for the poor in light of the pictures the AP shows us of hurricane victims on TV. Before you go thinking that I hate poor people, let me tell you that I personally experienced welfare and food stamps as a kid, and I have some ideas about how to use those programs to actually effect change, but that's a topic for another big block of free time here at the salt mine. There are two points that need to be made here: 1. If Christians acted like Christians (I didn't capitalize that word, Microsoft Word did), the government wouldn't have to worry about poor people and 2. How the heLL DO ILLEGALS WHO ARE NOT ON UNCLE SAM'S TITTY MAKE IT? WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE EXPLAIN THAT TO ME??? When did we stop believing in people in this country? When did we decide that people don't need to learn how to fish? Damn it! This wasn't even supposed to be my topic today! I wanted to talk about people letting their race, culture, nationality, parents, etc define their politics.
I don't know about you, but I actually thought it out and looked at both sides before coming to a decision. I'll talk about that later I guess.

Get In My Stream

Coming Soon!

Ah, yes. There it is. OK, I'm ready now.

Holy crap. I just wrote a whole bunch of boring crap on here that made me laugh (I don't care about you) and its gone. Gone!!! Its nowhere to be found. I have hit the back button 42 times, and its not there. This sucks! No one makes me laugh like me, and my beautiful work is gone! Crap! I had some good stuff on there, I swear. It was a stream of consciousness thing about professional athletes, my debt, my boring-ness, old people vacationing in Texas, a metaphorical thing where I was a dog.... all kinds of good shit! Damn it all to hell!

I guess I'll try again. Here goes.



I am the most boring person alive. I'm assuming that the dead are categorically more boring than the living by virtue of their lack of animation (or any hope thereof), but I digress... See? It only took 4 seconds of my inner dialogue to make you want to sharpen a piece of rebar, sledgehammer it into the ground, and toss yourself onto it with dramatic effect (don't pound on the tip, it will dull it, making your death more painful. Tighten a pipe wrench on the side and hammer on that instead. Pipe wrenches are cheap at Ace Hardware, but who cares about the cost? You'll be dead, right?). Just be sure your will is up-to-date. I don't have a will. I'll let the government decide who will pay my bills after my death. I wonder whether its possible to write a will that will leave my liabilities to say, a pro athlete or a famous rapper. Those asswipes are always looking for something to brag about. I watch this show where they customize the crap out of whatever flavor-of-the-month "whip" is gittin' the most honey dips, and its always like "Nobody gots this shit! I'm the only playa in Philly with Lamborghini doors on a AMC Pacer, fool!" Dumbasses. Let them brag about paying my bills. How's that for something else no other playa has done? They turn those freakin cars into RV's for Pete's sake (that sake as in a Japanese alcoholic drink made from fermented rice, not sake as in a cause; account, behalf; advantage, benefit; purpose, aim, object), what with the TV's, DVD players, wetbars and such. Can somebody please tell me when RV's became cool? Please?!! I thought those things were rolling party barges for old people. REALLY old people. The kind that come down here to Texas every winter in big convoys and gather down by the gulf to play pinochle and square dance. You ask them what their favorite activity is, and they say get-togethers. What the hell are get-togethers? That term makes me think of my Friday night get-lucky sessions with the missus, not meeting up with the Murphys from Detroit for some bird watchin' and buttermilk-drinkin' (I'm assuming there are still old white people living in Detroit, although I'm not sure). Speaking of Detroit... I work for a major American car manufacturer, which gives you a 50-50 chance of figuring out the name of my company. The other day, I heard a commercial on the radio that was attempting to mislead customers of ours into thinking that we wanted to talk to them about buying back their recalled trucks and giving them "safer" vehicles. After calling the number and hearing the greeting for a competitor ( I won't say who, but it wasn't Toyota, Mazda, or Honda), I sent an e-mail describing my experience (along with a link to the very official looking accompanying website) to a manager here. Long story short, I got a call a couple of hours later from a marketing director at a regional office saying that our lawyers would be "taking care of it." Did I mention I love the hyphen (heh, sounds like hymen) and speaking parenthetically? Anyhoo, it's the principal of the thing. I mean, that crap isn't legal, its trademark infringement for the love of Pete (and his sake). Look at it this way, if I crap on your floor, give me a chance to clean it up. If it still smells like crap, then get another dog - make your own decision. It wouldn't be fair for my buddy Wade to tell you that he should benefit from your good home instead of me because I'll never stop pinching loaves on granny's good oriental (that's not a dude, its a rug), especially if he makes you think I'M the one giving you the suggestion! There's no connection between me and Wade! He needs to keep my name out of his dogdamned mouth! The moral of the story here is that all I've gotten so far is a thank you from marketing guy. But I'm a hopeless believer in "hope springs eternal" (you picking up on the irony there?). My hopeful side tells me the recognition is yet to come. My cynical, jaded side says the story ends here. If boredom makes you all go-to-the-potty-and-touch-your-naughty-place-repeatedly-until-it-elicits-a-messy-muscular-response, well then stay tuned.