Laci Peterson and "Double" Homicide
Let's get something straight about the killing of pregnant women. If you kill a pregnant woman, you should be tried for one count of murder, and one count of destruction of private property.
So what does this amount to exactly, in terms of actual punishment?
I don't know, I guess it means you get fined a thousand bucks after they fry you and toss your corpse in an unmarked grave. Double homicide, my ass. If the act isn't a murder when the woman destroys the fetus herself, it's not a murder when someone else does it. Case closed.
For once in my life, I agree with the National Organization of Bitter, Ugly Bitches. The majority of those who favor "double homicide" in the case of the murder of pregnant women do so because they believe that the unliving, sorta-coulda-woulda be a human being inside of the woman is an actual human being. Well, I say we take all the post-abortion slop that the hospitals chuck in their dumpsters every day, send it to the nearest Coca Cola bottling plant, and FedEx the resulting three-liter bottles to all the religious, conservative, sex-fearing ghost-worshippers and tell those bastards to name their bottles "Joe", "Jezebel", or whatever the fuck they want to name them, and let them throw the bottles in a crib until they've aged like the fine, French, boycotted wine they have in their cellars so they can beat the fear of God, or the love of God, or whatever supernatural emotion they want to beat by faith and force, and let them raise the non-kids however the fuck they want to raise them.
Works great for everybody. The potential, non-actual pregnant women get to have their lives back and the religious conservatives get to have their potential, non-actual human buckets of blood.
Evidently, there are also pro-choice individuals in favor of this "double homicide" nonsense. In the words of Tammy Bruce on Hannity & Colmes tonight, they can "walk and chew gum at the same time". Tammy, you might be able to walk and chew gum, but what you're trying to do is walk and put your foot in your mouth. Either that thing inside a pregnant woman is a human being, or it's not. You can't let random butchers, however allegedly they've trashed their wives because they didn't have the balls to say the seven words "sorry, honey, I don't love you anymore" change your mind for you because this particular butcher deserves to be more than lethally injected. We have laws against murder. We don't need to invent crimes against the unliving to uphold those legitimate laws. Case closed.
Yeah, I know. I already closed the case. Pardon me if I happened to reopen it because I enjoyed the sound of slamming it shut again.
Dictator Removal and the Agony of Empty Museums
Liberals don't give up, do they? Now that we've won the war in Iraq, they're worried about our lack of museum caretakers on staff in the U.S. military. Are you fucking kidding me?
I don't give a shit if the Mohammed Lisa or whatever the hell resides in the Baghdad Museum of Modern Art has been lifted by a bunch of giddy Iraqi torture victims whom the liberals now deem as oppressors of ancient artifacts. If only liberals cared as much about real human beings as they do sculpted ones, they'd have been behind the war in the first place.
The day this bogus leftist, manufactured "news" item dies its death will be a happy one indeed. These "stolen Iraqi art" stories should be ripped from the headlines like a statue from the corner of 42nd and Saddam.
Someone to Watch Over Me
I think I'd like to buy a monitoring device for my naps on the bus. Something that keeps an eye on the other passengers who stare at me while I'm asleep. I know, it's a little paranoid, but I don't like the idea of people in dark suits looking at my face while my eyes are shut. So what I'm wondering is: is there something electronic that I could attach to my brain that would create a digital likeness of the people around me, so I could make sure there aren't any freaks looking at me while they pretend to read the newspaper? Or, I guess I could just leave my eyes open.
Microsoft Word is Stupid
Microsoft Word is great. If I were really hip, I might even say Word is word. (I know, if I were hip yesterday I would have said Word is word. And if I were hip today, I wouldn't say "hip". Ok, in that case, let me surprise all the kiddies out there and call myself "gangsta". To all the old folks: I shit you not, kids actually use the term "gangsta".)
Anyway, Word is great. But Word is really stupid. It keeps asking me if I want to save my blank documents. Why the hell would I want to save a completely blank Word document? You have to be one hell of a packrat to want to save your blank Word documents. Man, is Word stupid. What the hell gave Word the idea that I was criminally insane?
Oh, never mind. It's the shit like I'm writing now. Maybe Word isn't so stupid.
What I Don't Want to Hear from a Woman
I can't speak for all men, but personally, I like to check out every single female I pass on the street. No, I don't usually do a complete 180 and watch them after they walk past me. However, I do always give a quick look up and down, as subtly as I possibly can. I rarely go to museums, so this is how I enjoy myself esthetically. In fact, I am so ignorant of visual art, I'm not even sure I just used the word "esthetically" in a grammatically correct sense, or if I just described the act of narcissism.
I say that I check out every single "female", rather than every single "woman", because I'm honest. Some of these chicks (to use an age-neutral term) must be as young as... well, as young as... wait a second. How old are they when the breasts first appear again?
Anyway, given that I check out basically every homo sapien with breasts that walks past me, do you know what would be really embarrassing? If I were introduced to someone one day, and she said, "Hey, aren't you the guy who looked at my tits this morning?" That would be really embarrassing.
In fact, it would make a pretty good practical joke for any halfway-decent looking woman. Assuming that most men do, in fact, check out most of the women they see, you would think that most men probably would at least accept the possibility that they could have checked out a particular woman. So if a woman (take one with a rather conspicuously large chest to be safe) should walk up to a random man and say, "Hey, aren't you the guy who looked at my tits this morning?", I bet you'd hear at least a little stuttering from the man's mouth.
At some point in my life, when I've achieved true ubermensch status, I'd like to believe that my response to such a question would be a calm, cool:
"Well, to be honest, I don't remember those exact tits. But perhaps after we get better acquainted, I will have acquired sufficient evidence to comment more extensively on your particular tits. Now, your crotch on the other hand... I swear I've seen that somewhere before. Can you help me place it? Were you by any chance reading a copy of War and Peace on the subway last week with your legs wide open?"
Ah, to daydream.
