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| Partly Cloudy, 94 degrees |
| 05.31.04 (10:10 am) [edit] |
Ok, so I'm a sucker for disaster films.
It must be in the testosterone. My brain tells me to save the seven bucks, but the testosterone is what makes me go see it. Hell...testosterone is the moving force behind most of the bad decisions I've made in life, but that's for another day.
Maybe the day after tomorrow.
That's what we call a 'segway' in the biz.
Yes, I saw it. For the most part, the special effects were worth the money. However, the political jabs pitted throughout were a bit much.
It's no secret that the director, Roland Emmerich, has had a hardon for destroying New York for quite some time now. Independence Day, Godzilla 2000...always the same idea, jsut with a different villan.
This time the villan was, obviously, the Bush administration.
Well, not in so many words.
I guess it was actually the fault of SUV driving, hairspray using, fast food eating, illegal immigrant hating Americans. This from the Hartford Courant:
Inspired by scientific warnings and early evidence that the Earth's atmosphere is changing because of mankind's abuse, "The Day After" is a scientifically hyperbolic clarion call to greedy fossil-fuel consumers and Bush administration pols who refuse to recognize the problem, much less do something about it....
Emmerich made the conscious decision to destroy everything that makes America American: Powerful twisters took out the Hollywood sign in L.A., a flood, then blizzard rocked the most powerful city in the world (New York) and a hailstorm hit and devistated Tokyo (probably the most westernized city outside of the U.S.)
I found it odd that, in the end, the Ice Sheet completely covered the continent of Europe. But the movie showed nothing of that.
Why couldn't we see little Frenchmen tucking their tails beneath their legs as they have so many times before? Or the Brits? What happened to the Italians? The only hint we received that there were actually more people in the world than the few New Yorkers who survived was in the evil Vice President (who looked very much like Dick Cheney)'s speech at the end of the film saying that we owed the third-world countires a debt of gratitude for allowing our 'refugees' into their borders.
We owe who what??
Mexico closes ITS borders because they don't want "illegal immagrants" from the U.S. in their country. That's cute. I bet Emmerich is in the back of the theater masterbating at the sight of well-to-do Americans struggling through the Rio Grande.
And what is it about disaster movies that they feel the need to have a homeless black man with a dog for comic relief. There is nothing funny about that.
Asteroid or no asteroid, GET A DAMN JOB.
The only thing realistic in this film was the fact that no ones cell phones worked.
Anyway, go see the movie for some heart pounding excitement, but keep this one thing in mind:
Al Gore is a fucking idiot.
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| Send in the clowns. Quickly. |
| 05.27.04 (6:34 pm) [edit] |
I no longer have the link, but there was a story we reported on last Sunday on the talk show. Some Bulgarian circus performer was doing a routine 30 feet in the air, hanging from a silk rope, sans net.
Bottom line is, she fell to her death.
The host, Jay, asked if I was in to the circus and I promptly said no. I can think of few things I like less. Pears being one. Eating a pear is like sucking on a soggy cat's tongue.
But I digress...
The conversation quickly turned to carnie jokes. I mean, really...A circus performer from Bulgaria. There's a long shot. Is this what happens to a country after they break free from Communism? They still have to stand in line for food, but they sure can juggle.
As it turns out the children of the dead carnie are also members of this traveling circus group. Another stereotype fullfilled.
We wondered if after the lady fell, a bunch of clowns in a tiny fire engine came to try to revive her.
Well, little did we know that there is a family of Bulgarian circus performers living right in our own listening area.
The boss got an angry letter, signed of course in disappearing ink *HONK* *HONK*
Anyway, Jay had to apologize. I said this Sunday we should play the big top circus song (you all know what I'm talking about) and Jay can give an on-air, public apology to the Bulgarian family.
Then to the bearded lady.
Then to the world's tallest man.
Then to the lion tamer.
Then to the half man/half woman.
Then to the seal who balances a beachball on his nose.
Then to the dog-faced boy.
Then to the guy who swallows the swords.
Then to the lady who stands on her head atop an elephant.
Then to the guy who juggles things on fire.
Then to the drunk guy who runs the tilt-a-whirl...
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| Moonshadow. |
| 05.26.04 (8:07 pm) [edit] |
Uninspired, I asked someone to give me something to write about.
The only response I received was 'fire'.
So here it goes.
When I was a kid, I had this reoccurring dream that my family and I were returning from vacation. Happy to finally be home after a long drive, we were a bit surprised as we turned the corner to find that our house had burnt to the ground.
I think it was the fact that the initial dream was so upsetting that it submerged itself in my subconscious and I had the same damn dream for a number of nights after.
To this day, when I'm on vacation or away from home for any amount of time, I still have a lingering feeling that I may come home to a smoldering pile of rubble.
That reminded me of another reoccurring dream I had as a kid...
I drempt that a hurricane came through and flooded our street. The water was rising in the house and I remember my parents telling me that I only had time to save one thing.
For some reason I chose to save a green balloon. I let the dog drown.
I saved that damn balloon over, and over, and over. I still have no idea why.
For the past few years though, my reoccurring dream has been my teeth falling out.
It's terrible.
The entire dream is me freaking out because my tooth is loose and I keep telling myself that I can't let it fall out because it's permanent and there's not another one to fill its place. Then once it does fall out, I spend the rest of the dream telling myslef that this time it's for real and it isn't just a dream.
Horrible.
I've heard that if you dream your teeth are falling out it's because, deep down, you feel like your life is falling apart.
I don't know if I buy that. I mean, I'm a strong believer in the fact that dreams are the realities of your subconscious coming to the surface. But I've got a pretty good grasp on my life right now.
At least I'd like to think so.
Something else that has always bothered me about dreams...
Someone once asked, "What if this life is all just one big dream? What if, when I wake up, you don't really exist?"
Interesting. We may laugh it off, but if you stop and think about it...sights, smells, colors, sounds, time...they all are very real within our dreams. We don't know it is a dream until we wake up.
So who is to say, my alarm isn't about to go off back in 1986? Maybe I've hit the snooze and this is one of those wierd half asleep, half awake, really vivid dreams.
Stop and think about it for a minute. As rediculous as it may sound, it's all very possible. Just hope you remember the important parts when you wake up. You might need to use them one day.
Sweet dreams.
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| Vampires rejoice |
| 05.25.04 (12:58 pm) [edit] |
And now the time has come
And so, my love, I must go
And though I lose a friend
In the end you will know
One day, you'll find
That I have gone
But tomorrow may rain, so
I'll follow the sun
Not so fast, Beatles. If the politically correct crowd has their way, that sun you plan on following may not be allowed to come out and play in the future.
This just in from the left coast of Califonia:
http://www.surfsantamonica.com/ssm_site/the_lookout/ news/News-2004/May-2004/0 5_25_04_Beach_Smoking_Ban _Proposed_Statewide.htm" title="http://www.surfsantamonica.com/ssm_site/the_lookout/ news/News-2004/May-2004/0 5_25_04_Beach_Smoking_Ban _Proposed_Statewide.htm" target="_blank"http://www.surfsantamonica.co...
It looks like the bedwetters out there are not only upset with indoor smoking, but now they've moved their legislation outside to the state's 1200 mile coastline. Democrat Paul Koretz is hoping to save the world by creating this overpowering anti-smoking bill and force it on beachgoers who may not like the "nasty" and "dangerous" effects of second-hand smoke.
Allow me to break this down using some common sense.
Koretz wants to use the police power of big government to force people to not smoke on the beach because of the harmfull effects of the smoke.
Nevermind that people are lying out IN THE SUN.
Two words for Koretz:
Numb
Nuts
No wait...
Skin
Cancer
Typical liberal politician. Let's make more laws. Where in the Constitution does it say I have the right to breathe smoke-free air?
Enjoy the sunshine before Koretz passes a bill banning that.
All this being said...I don't smoke. I don't like people smoking around me. I think it makes a person look weak, ignorant and we all know what it's like to have to sit next to someone who has just finished a cigarette. You stink. You are disgusting. You make me and those around you sick. You're no longer 12-years-old, so who are you trying to impress? You're pathetic. And if you're "addicted". Boofuckinghoo. You are weak. Kick the habbit. I've known many who have.
However...I don't think it is up to the government to protect us from ourselves. If you want to smoke and look like an ass, go for it. It's your lungs. If I am sitting next to a smoker on the beach and am fearfull for my life, I will pick up my towel and my sandpail and move. I don't need legislation to keep me from breathing your smoke.
If we allow them to regulate when and where a person can suck on a cancer stick, how then are we going to stop them from regulating when and where we can lay out in the sun?
Sadly though, too many people in this country look to the government for support and to the legislature for protection. That's not what they are there for.
But tomorrow may rain,
So follow the sun
While you still can.
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| Last pull |
| 05.18.04 (8:23 pm) [edit] |
Check this guy out...
http://abcnews.go.com/wire/US/ap20040518_10 77.html" title="http://abcnews.go.com/wire/US/ap20040518_10 77.html" target="_blank"http://abcnews.go.com/wire/US...
Down to his last 75 cents and hits the 1.3 million dollar jackpot.
What the hell would you do if you won 1.3 million dollars? Assuming you could keep it all, and we know we can't thanks to the IRS (different blog entirely), but for argument's sake let's assume you can.
I think I'd first give my parents 299, 999 dollars. Just to say thanks for putting up with my bullshit over the years.
The extra dollar, I'd give to my sister.
Reason being, about 20 years ago, when we were both much younger, Captain Crunch was kidnapped by the Soggies and the cereal company held a contest to see who could find the Capt'n. Well, my sister turned out to be the big national winner and, after 6 to 8 weeks, she was sent a $100 check by Post, or Kelloggs or whoever.
Anyway, she was kind enough to give me one dollar. So I've always said that if I win a large sum of money, I too will be kind enough to give her a single dollar.
That leaves one million for me. The rest is simple.
Invest.
An untouched million dollars at 6% interest would leave me a pre-taxed 60 grand a year. The first year I'd pay off my car and student loans. And being a single guy without kids, I can easily live off of 30 grand a year, therefore reinvesting the other 30 thousand each year for maximum profit. So, like the underpants gnomes, here is my new mission statement:
Step 1: Win 1.3 million dollars
Step 2: ?
Step 3: Profit
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| Smells like bacon. |
| 05.15.04 (4:24 pm) [edit] |
I'm really sick and tired of hearing women complain about their weight. Even the skinny ones do it.
I have come to realize that it is within their genetic makeup to do so, but seriously...if they are so worried about packing on pounds, why do I constanly see them eating crap food?
Today at the grocery store, I got stuck in the isle behind two very slow-moving fatbodies (both women). I made a quick stereotypical judgement as to what kind of food products I would see in their cart when i got the chance to look and, low and behold, I was right.
Cookies.
Sweet cereals.
Frozen pizzas.
Dog food. (Not sure is this was for them or not. Wouldn't be suprised however)
Twizlers.
Ice cream.
Ice cream?? C'mon. I know it's hot outside, but I really do think a small diet coke would have the same affect.
I simply wrote it off as two lazy women who lacked willpower, but then I made a startling discovery out in the crowded parking lot.
Not only were there fatbodies everywhere (we are the lagest country in the world weight-wise) but they all had food in their mouths.
There's one with a cookie.
A hot dog.
A big gulp.
A candy bar.
MORE ICE CREAM.
What blows my mind isn't the fact that these people are large. I've come to expect it in today's wide world. Instead, it's that
a) You will only see fat women stuffing their faces in public, not men. And
b) These are the exact same people who are crowding the isles at your local bookstore waiting to make Dr. Atkins a little bit richer.
Here's a free diet tip, fatbody:
PUT DOWN THE FUCKING FORK.
Calorie intake and ONLY calorie intake will cause a person to gain weight. Taco Bell after a night of heavy beer drinking is not, I repeat NOT a good way to shed the pounds.
Who the hell walks through a busy shoping center parking lot eating a bag of Cheetos anyway?
All this talk has made me hungry. I'm going to McDonalds.
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| 13 Conversations About 1 Thing |
| 05.14.04 (10:05 am) [edit] |
I find it amazing how one slight change in one's usual routine can completely throw off an entire day.
This morning, as usual, I lazily made my way into the shower. For some reason, though, I had left the faucet stopper in the 'up' position from the morning before.
Now on a normal day, you turn on the faucet, expecting whole hartedly for the water to come rushing out at your feet, allowing you to take the time to get the water at its perfect temperature before soaking your entire body.
Not today.
While bent at a 90 degree angle, the shower kicks on, dumping the ice cold water left in the pipes from the day before onto my back. Muscles you don't even know you have will tighten with fridged surprise.
The inncident is only a split second, but it is enough to somehow alter the entire day.
Once I jumped to the back of the shower in anger and icey confusion, I realized now that on the way to work, the usual green lights will all be red. Because of this, my timing will be off and an important call could go unanswered, an email sent a split second too late, therefore affecting the lives of others I will be in contact with...in what sort of way, it is not yet known.
Some call it the Butterfly Effect, or better yet, The Chaos Theory. How one thing leads to another.
We heve evolved into an organism that thrives on comfort. This comfort comes through our search for order in an otherwise chaotic world. We have been programmed to find structue and organization in life. We call it a 'daily routine'.
But I think it goes much further than the way we form our own existance. So much of life revolves around relationships. Not even so much that of loved ones, family and friends...but from those we bump elbows with when crossing a street, or those who smile and nod when eye contact is made at a deli counter. I think there is an unknown force that surrounds us and it's exciting to think that a split second glance in line at a bank could throw your life into a tailspin. We strive for structure and normality. Who is to say this unknown, natural chaos isn't what's supposed to be normal.
I find it exciting. Without the unkown, life is boring, typical, routine. Notice when I explained the shower mishap I said it would 'alter' my day. Most people would say 'ruin'. Change does not always have to be a bad thing. Embrace it. Let the cold shower come on when you don't expect it.
It may be the only thing that makes today different from yesterday.
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| For Nick Berg. |
| 05.12.04 (1:07 pm) [edit] |
Some people just don't get it.
I work in talk radio, so the last two days have been filled with heated discussions surrounding the murder of Nick Berg, a 26-year-old Philly guy who was beheaded at the hands of five masked Muhams in Iraq.
That act of brutal terror is not was has angered me so, however. I have come to expect nothing more from that sub-human culture.
What angers me is the mindset of our own countrymen and women who equate this act to that of our own US military at the Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq.
Let me explain it to you in simple terms:
Making a Muham CRIMINAL strip naked, stand on a chair with a bag over his head is not the same thing as kidnapping an civilian, cutting off his head and showing the video all over the internet.
So stop right now trying to make the comparison. There isn't one.
Yet turn on CNN. You will see, as you have over the last week, more talk of the 'horror' that took place at Abu Ghraib.
MY GOD! THE OUTRAGE!!!
Now do a Google on Nick Berg. Do a Google on the outrage in the Islam community over this senseless murder.
I found only one tiny, pathetic blurb on the CAIR website condeming the killing. This is the same group that trips over themselves the second they think they hear the hint of anti-arabic sentiment on the US airways.
Well trip over this, CAIR:
THANKS A FUCKING PANTLOAD.
So much for your 'Religion of peace' push.
It is at this time that I'd like to admit my ture feeling on the war in Iraq. Although I do believe that the world is better off without Saddam, I wish we had left him in power over there to continue raping and torturing his own people.
I'm really tired of dealing with them.
But what is worse is the misdirected outrage from the left and left-leaning media in our own country about the evils of our military.
Suck it up, bedwetters. The prison at Abu Ghraib is a Club Med for these Muham law breakers. They should be thanking us. NOT chopping off our heads. Nick Berg was over there looking for work in order to help build telecommunication towers to help make Iraq a better place.
But they killed him.
Enjoy the desert, you animals.
And while we're on the topic, this is for those of you who refused to see the link between Al Qaeda and Iraq. Here you go. (This from www.boortz.com)
The Islamic terrorist pigs who cut off Nick Berg's head claimed Al Qaeda status. Linguistic experts said that they had definite Iraqi accents. Well ... since we all know (don't we?) that there was absolutely no connection between Iraq and Al Qaeda we have to assume that these men came to Iraq after Saddam was overthrown and managed to develop an Iraqi accent.
Yeah, you believe that, don't you?
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| Plastic |
| 05.10.04 (7:14 pm) [edit] |
These surgery shows are driving me nuts.
Every damn channel.
First it was game shows, then people eating bugs shows, then gay people turning straight people gay shows, now make me fake, but attractive shows.
Not that Im against plastic surgery. Nothing wrong with boosting your self confidence any way possible.
But putting yourself on FOX's Swan? C'mon.
They need to change the name to "The Fox execs are making some serious bank on your ugly ass" or "Holy Shit, your teeth are rotting out of your skull!"
Other possible names for FOXs Swan is welcomed in the comments section.
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| Cocaine Butterflies |
| 05.09.04 (5:14 pm) [edit] |
Back from the Keys...
![]() =http://img64.photobucket.com/...
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This particular one is only worth 4, the sum of which explains the entire trip:
Too
Much
To
Drink
Im pretty sure it all started as a normal night.
I had the red snapper for dinner. With coleslaw and the crab cakes. I put off drinking for the entire day because of the massive hangover I had woken up with.
But it was getting dark. The hangover had subsided. Plus the dinner wait was a good 15 minutes and the view from the outdoor bar was rather nice.
Crown and Coke.
It didn't sit well and took some time to get down, but it was our last night there. Going home early was not an option.
We hit the tiki bar that we had partied at the night before. It was right on the water and had a good cover band, so we figured that would be a good place to start the evening.
My voice was already pretty much shot from the previous night's singalong to the likes of Bon Jovi and 311, but that wasn't enough to stop me from screaming at the top of my lungs to [i]Hey Ya[/i].
Hey fellas...What's cooler than cool?
3 Rum Runners.
That did the trick. I decided to stick to those rather than the Jagermeister shots that had almsot killed me the night before.
So after belting out some Brian Adams we grabbed a cab and made our way a couple miles north to Hog Heaven.
Billed as the only dance club between Miami and Key West, the Hog offered the best in today's hip hop and techno (try dancing to that in flip flops). Not to mention, the Hog is a very popular spot with the women.
2 Coronas.
I'm not too big on dance clubs. I'm much more of a bar guy. I did hear a good remix of [i]In da Club[/i] however. But after much debate we decided to call another cab and make our way further south to Woody's, the local strip club.
This is where the night took an unsual turn.
I've been to a number of stip clubs in my day, but this one was unlike any other.
Take Porkey's, throw in some Blues Brothers and add a dash of From Dusk Till Dawn.
Woody's consisted of myself, my two frinds Scott and Steve, two guys who looked like truck drivers that had been sitting there since 1979, a waitress, a bartender two 'dancers' and a band named Big Dick and the Extenders.
Big Dick was a fat, toothless guy with a guitar who hated his ex wife and sang songs about how much he hated his ex wife.
2 Coronas.
I decided to sit in the back, away from the 'dance' floor, as the two stripper chicks scared me. I can't put my finger on the exact reason why. Skank did come to mind a few times.
So we sat in the back, sipped our drinks, listened to Big Dick and watched some boxing highlights on the tv at the bar.
Between songs, Big would tell us stories about his evil ex wife and how hot he thought 'Candy' the 'dancer' was. He said she was so hot the if she stood on her head "butterflies would fly out of her pu**y with cocaine on their wings."
Classy joint, that Woody's.
The boxing show ended, as did Big Dick's set, so there was really no reason for us to be in there any longer.
We were a long way from the condo. The tiki bar had already closed. The Hog was an option, but we had just left there an hour ago.
So we decided to take a walk. That's the cool thing about the Keys...you can walk around at 2:30 in the morning and feel safe. Try doing that in Miami.
About a mile up the road, we came upon a little hole in the wall called Slimey's. It was open so we walked in.
Corona. No lime.
About half way though the beer, the owner of the bar was looking for people who wanted to go with him down the road to a different bar.
In my drunken state, I told him that we would gladly go with them.
So we did.
We jumped in some strange van with a group of strange people.
They seemed friendly enough....
We finally arrived at some other hole in the wall and offered to by the guys a drink to thank them for the ride. It was here when one of them told us that he was part owner of of a number of bars on the island and pays for nothing. So he, in turn, ordered us something free of charge.
Random shot of something that tasted bad.
The place looked like a normal bar. A group of good 'ol boys not wearing any shoes playing pool. Ok, maybe not THAT normal.
Corona.
I pulled up a seat next to a video poker machine and set a new record on the erotic trivia quiz. BOOYAA!
After that, some guy started showing us his photo album. It was at this point that I thought I had maybe passed out at the strip club and all of this was a wierd dream.
Sadly, it wasn't.
The photo album consisted only of pictures of women this guy had managed to convince to strip naked inside the bar.
Could've been worse I guess.
As I got to the very end of the album however, I was informed that the last picture was of a girl that his friend had taken out on a boat, cut her head off and then threw the body into the ocean.
I waited for him to laugh, but he instead took the album back straight faced and walked away.
Needless to say, the night quickly ended after that.
We're going back at the end of the summer. I hope my high score still stands.
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| Pictures |
| 05.06.04 (11:50 am) [edit] |
This from Mardi Gras:
I'm in the white...
![]() =http://img64.photobucket.com/...
I'm the one not looking up Bo Peep's dress...
![]() =http://img64.photobucket.com/...
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| Tender |
| 05.06.04 (9:30 am) [edit] |
I managed to persuade the entire building yesterday that pepperoni was made out of horse meat.
They didn't buy, however, that the pepperoni on the pizza I was eating at the time was made out of past Kentucky derby winners named Oven Baked and Deep Crust.
It was worth a shot.
That reminded me of the time at a bar when I managed to upset an entire table of chicks by telling them the only way to keep pigeons from flocking to and shitting all over the window sills of tall buildings.
You hire a window washer to scale the building and smear the gel form of hydrocloric acid all over the window ledge. The birds land on it and it burns their feet off.
Without feet, the birds have no balance and fall over. Fact is, without balance, the bird cannot fly and is therefore forever stuck on the ledge.
Now you have two options:
1. Leave the bird there to starve and eventually die, or
2. Open the window and begin feeding the bird every day.
Without the ability to fly, or moreso, move, the bird will fatten and be ready for grilling in a matter of weeks.
And pigeon meat is really tender.
It was at this point when the girls got up and left.
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| Anarchy Bridge |
| 05.04.04 (2:14 pm) [edit] |
"I have seen the Fnords"
This eerie phrase was spraypainted on the side of an old railway bridge in a small town in western England sometime in the 1980s. The author is not known.
A quick Google search of the word 'fnord' turned out some interesting definitions and, being the conspiracy theorist that I am, I decided to do some research.
It turns out, 'fnord' isn't even a word. Instead, it represents a word.
A word we can't see.
Well...a word we were taught NOT to see.
According to a series of books on the Illuminati, 'fnord' is used by the powers that be in the world media to inject a specific emotion.
Supposedly, all of us at a very young age were taught this secret word, conditioned to feel a certain emotion everytime we saw or heard it, then we were taught to ignore the actual word and then to forget it altogether.
Now, when reading the paper or watching the news, those in charge can force our subconcious to formulate an emotion over a story simply by placing the word 'fnord' after the targeted sentence.
If you're still reading, here is an example. This from 'The Golden Apple' by Robert Shea:
Then I saw the fnords.
The feature story involved another of the endless squabbles between Russia and the U.S. in the UN General Assembly, and after each direct quote from the
Russian delegate I read a quite distinct ``Fnord!'' The second lead was about a debate in congress on getting the troops out of costa Rica; every argument
presented by Senator Bacon was followed by another ``Fnord!'' At the bottom of the page was a Times depth-type study of the growing pollution problem and
the increasing use of gas masks among New Yorkers; the most distressing chemical facts were interpolated with more ``Fnords.''
Like Pavlov's dog, we were taught to equate a physical emotion with a simpe word. But because we were supposedly taught to ignore and then to forget the word, there was never a reason to question our feelings.
Now, however, there may be.
Fnord.
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| Smile. |
| 05.03.04 (12:30 pm) [edit] |
Being an ex-frat boy, I have it in my blood to sense a good photographic moment. Not the sunset behind the mountain type. But the kind of moment that screams, "this scene may never happen again, so jump into the frame, give the thumbs-up, snap the picture and keep moving."
Some examples of what not to miss:
-A fat, Asian lady, passed out in the streets of New Orleans.
-A bum on the sidewalk trying his damndest to throw up the last bit of Mickys Ice.
-The little underage princess who, along with her friend, is being handcuffed after being caught with a fake ID.
-The angry shoe shiner who told us repeatedly to stop taking pictures of him.
Without the photographic evidence, who is to say the event ever took place?
It is this photographic evidence that has the world up in arms over pictures recently taken by men and women in the American military. For those of you who missed the (what I found) humorous photos, here's a sneak peak.
http://www.thememoryhole.org/war/iraqis_tortured" title="http://www.thememoryhole.org/war/iraqis_tortured" target="_blank"http://www.thememoryhole.org/...
In the photos, Iraqi prisoners are forced to wear bags over their heads, strip naked and pose in homoerotic positions. The best part about the pictures are the service men and women who are posing with them.
Media outlets around the world are falling over themesleves in hopes the men and women responsible for the photos and treatment of these Iraqi prisoners are punished.
They say the prisoners should not be forced into humilliation and that we as Americans feel that we are above and beyond the Geneva Convention (google it).
Where was the rest of the world when these guys were burning and dragging innocent Americans through the streets and then hanging them from a bridge?
Being forced to strip naked and make a human pyramid is heaven compaired to what these people should be up against.
Many here in the states even fear that these actions will cause the Muslim world to hate us more. More than they already do? Is that possible? What more can they do that they already haven't?
I, for one, applaud those who posed for the pictures. Notice they are all smiling and having what looks to be a good time. These American men and women are at war. They should be allowed whatever it takes to put a smile on their face. And if that means humiliating some Iraqi criminals, then so be it.
Smile for the camera, Muham.
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