The news has gone to such shit. Editors are asleep at their posts and reporters are a bunch of egotistical, self-absorbed pussies who charge their MacBooks and comb their hair as the real news happens in front of them.
It took about twenty seconds of searching MSNBC this morning to prove my point.
Top Story: Iraq. Du du duu duuuuuuun.
Shiite pilgrims celebrating the holiday called Ashoura are attacked in Baghdad. This type of thing, you may have imagined, has happened before. But there is one particularly gory photo to go along with the watered-down text. You can see at least a dozen men, dressed in white robes, blood pouring from their heads. They are marching and shouting, very much alive. They are carrying swords. It is their custom on this holy day to slice their foreheads with swords. It’s a stunt since adopted by professional wrestlers. Cut the forehead and it bleeds profusely, but does no real damage.
This is all news, to some degree. It’s interesting to read about foreign cultures and their organized self mutilation. The story was written with more urgency than required, and really struggled to get to the point. But the reporter is writing from a battlefield, maybe writing in a second language, so I’ll cut them some slack. I’m not all criticism. Not really.
The picture, with the white robes, pouring blood and faces frozen in shout, was worth a glance.
The headline, however, was awful.
“Shiite Holiday Marred By Violence In Iraq”
Come on. The holiday itself is violent. Yes a bomb went off. Yes rebels don’t like these self-cutting pilgrims for some reason. But these pilgrims are slicing themselves open and blood is the intended result. That’s what the picture is of. That’s violent. Marred by violence. That’s like saying the St. Patrick’s Day parade was marred by alcohol, or the rodeo was marred by injuries, Or New Year’s Day was marred by hangovers. I thought my frustration with today’s big market news had peaked, but as I finished the story I saw something else that I knew would make my morning worse.
“NBC Field Notes.” It’s a section, I assumed, of first person accounts from combat correspondents. People in the field, as it were. But the headline for the first story in the section was titled, du du dun duuuuuun, “When my daughter found Britney on my iPod.”
I shouldn’t have to say another word about it. But the sheer stupidity, the lack of judgement, the dizzying number of errors that have to be made for this piece of shit to get this prime real estate on the web, it just defies reason.
Pilgrims slicing themselves up, OK I’ll buy that. In some countries they crucify themselves to celebrate a holiday. But writing about your stupid daughter and your stupid iPod and some stupid girl who sings and your stupid opinion on it all, I mean, where are the fuckin editors?
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Attack of the 300,000 pound infidels
On Wednesday we came one step closer to winning the war on whales.
It wasn’t easy. California liberals, blind to the threats from the leviathans, somehow got a law passed banning the use of mid-range sonar by the Navy. Their goal apparently is to “protect” the whales. Fortunately for those of us who want to continue to live the American dream, President Bush deemed the Navy exempt to the law and opened up the Pacific coast to some good old fashioned whale hunting.
The Navy likes using the high-powered sonar because it makes whale hunting, “like, more fun,” according to one seaman who wasn’t allowed to give his name because there is a temporary suspension of free speech for all active military. It’s a security thing.
But some California judge ruled the sonar, which is able to inflict disabling, debilitating pain and sometimes death, to all whales, especially the big ones, could not be used if the creatures were within a certain distance of the ship.
This obviously makes it impossible to kill the whales, since the sonar is most effective from up close.
The clever weapon hits the huge mammals where they are most vulnerable - their delicate echolocation system, which they use to communicate with other whale soldiers over long distances, possibly to plan attacks on democracy. Their sneaky submerged speech is also used to create battle songs of fury and rage. Some people say the songs sound peaceful. But no one knows for sure and this is no time to take chances. Lest we forget, there’s a war on.
The hearing of whales is many times more sensitive than our own. And the sonar is so powerful it’s been likened to standing too close to the speakers at a Weezer concert. In fact, the sonar is so strong it can fracture the tiny bone structure inside the whale skull. The resulting pain is believed to be more intense than anything ever felt by a human. According to scientists, the closest we can get is the sensation produced by watching an entire episode of the Tyra Banks Show.
Once struck by the sonar waves, the whales, unable to bear another moment of the agony, do the only thing they can to escape the pain. They beach themselves. Their huge skeletons collapse outside the water, but this is apparently a fate far more appealing than having their inner ears melted by our Navy’s freedom fighters. The weapon is so effective there have been reports of entire whale platoons committing suicide together.
Fortunately, President Bush acted swiftly. In an unusual move, he exempted the Navy from the environmental law enacted by the whale sympathizers in California, freeing things up for a week or two of organized whale killing.
Now there will be some who will argue against this strategy. They will say the weapon is cruel and unusual. They’re right, of course. What’s more cruel than attacking a creature’s delicate sense of hearing, one evolved over millions of years to allow communication throughout the vast oceans of the world? (There is evidence whales can communicate over a distace of 2,000 miles) And what’s more unusual than killing with sound waves? That’s next generation stuff.
But this isn’t some enemy combatant we’ve got sitting in a cell somewhere in the tropics. This is a 100 foot long, free thinking, large-brained, possibly agnostic, un-American creature that can capsize a boat with a flick of its fluke.
Anyone who thinks this isn’t an enemy to be taken seriously need only consider this: some whales, the Blue ones, are bigger even than the dinosaurs were. Are you gonna tell me we wouldn’t be out in force with Apache gun ships if a herd of T-Rexes trotted across Michigan?
Not only are these whales dangerous – just ask Jonah – but they are a threat to our way of life. In an age of orange alerts, anti-Christian behavior and shoe searching we need to be vigilant. We can’t just let some 300,000 pound thugs swim around international waters willy nilly (No reference to the stupid movie intended). It’s time to kill some whales; laws be damned.
It wasn’t easy. California liberals, blind to the threats from the leviathans, somehow got a law passed banning the use of mid-range sonar by the Navy. Their goal apparently is to “protect” the whales. Fortunately for those of us who want to continue to live the American dream, President Bush deemed the Navy exempt to the law and opened up the Pacific coast to some good old fashioned whale hunting.
The Navy likes using the high-powered sonar because it makes whale hunting, “like, more fun,” according to one seaman who wasn’t allowed to give his name because there is a temporary suspension of free speech for all active military. It’s a security thing.
But some California judge ruled the sonar, which is able to inflict disabling, debilitating pain and sometimes death, to all whales, especially the big ones, could not be used if the creatures were within a certain distance of the ship.
This obviously makes it impossible to kill the whales, since the sonar is most effective from up close.
The clever weapon hits the huge mammals where they are most vulnerable - their delicate echolocation system, which they use to communicate with other whale soldiers over long distances, possibly to plan attacks on democracy. Their sneaky submerged speech is also used to create battle songs of fury and rage. Some people say the songs sound peaceful. But no one knows for sure and this is no time to take chances. Lest we forget, there’s a war on.
The hearing of whales is many times more sensitive than our own. And the sonar is so powerful it’s been likened to standing too close to the speakers at a Weezer concert. In fact, the sonar is so strong it can fracture the tiny bone structure inside the whale skull. The resulting pain is believed to be more intense than anything ever felt by a human. According to scientists, the closest we can get is the sensation produced by watching an entire episode of the Tyra Banks Show.
Once struck by the sonar waves, the whales, unable to bear another moment of the agony, do the only thing they can to escape the pain. They beach themselves. Their huge skeletons collapse outside the water, but this is apparently a fate far more appealing than having their inner ears melted by our Navy’s freedom fighters. The weapon is so effective there have been reports of entire whale platoons committing suicide together.
Fortunately, President Bush acted swiftly. In an unusual move, he exempted the Navy from the environmental law enacted by the whale sympathizers in California, freeing things up for a week or two of organized whale killing.
Now there will be some who will argue against this strategy. They will say the weapon is cruel and unusual. They’re right, of course. What’s more cruel than attacking a creature’s delicate sense of hearing, one evolved over millions of years to allow communication throughout the vast oceans of the world? (There is evidence whales can communicate over a distace of 2,000 miles) And what’s more unusual than killing with sound waves? That’s next generation stuff.
But this isn’t some enemy combatant we’ve got sitting in a cell somewhere in the tropics. This is a 100 foot long, free thinking, large-brained, possibly agnostic, un-American creature that can capsize a boat with a flick of its fluke.
Anyone who thinks this isn’t an enemy to be taken seriously need only consider this: some whales, the Blue ones, are bigger even than the dinosaurs were. Are you gonna tell me we wouldn’t be out in force with Apache gun ships if a herd of T-Rexes trotted across Michigan?
Not only are these whales dangerous – just ask Jonah – but they are a threat to our way of life. In an age of orange alerts, anti-Christian behavior and shoe searching we need to be vigilant. We can’t just let some 300,000 pound thugs swim around international waters willy nilly (No reference to the stupid movie intended). It’s time to kill some whales; laws be damned.
Mmmm, that sucralose flavor
When I was a kid my favorite breakfast was oatmeal. Quaker Oats, apple cinnamon flavor. I would watch with wonder as my mom would slowly pour hot water into the dry powdery stuff, stir it a bit and magically turn it into the squishy mushy stuff I couldn't get enough of. Now that I'm older a lot has changed. No one does anything for me. My shoes are bigger. My knees make clicking noises when I bend my legs and hardly anyone every pinches my cheeks and says how cute I am. But I still like oatmeal. At least I thought I did.
So I bought some in the store. But, seeing as another adult change has left me looking at the prices of things and doing disconcerting math in my head, I realized Quaker Oats was three times the price of another, similar looking box of oatmeal of the same flavor. So I got that one. It's called Food Club Instant Oatmeal and claims to have been around since 1945. It also claims to have 50 percent less sugar than "regular apples and cinnamon instant oatmeal." That should have been a clue.
So I had some this morning. I was surprised at how, during its morph from powder to squishy mush it actually took on the appearance of having big chunks of stuff where before there were no chunks. They looked like pieces of apple. And that's what they tasted like, too. Sort of. They were chewier and way too sweet to be a normal apple. So I checked the ingredients list on the box.
I don't have a box of the stuff I used to eat, but seeing as how the rule in our house was sugar could not be listed in the top three on the ingredients list, I'm thinking sugar was one of the last things listed. And I imagine there were very few ingredients other than oats, cinnamon and some kind of apple flavor.
The Food Club ingredients list is in tiny print that stretches down the box for two inches. After rolled oats, there's dehydrated apples, which makes sense, except that they are "treated with sodium sulfite to promote color retention." Promote color retention? Then comes sugar, number three, which means it would never make it into our house, then salt, cinnamon, and here is where it gets weird. Calcium carbonate (isn't that the stuff they use for upset stomachs?), natural flavors (I can't imagine what those entail), citric acid, guar gum, yes guar gum, and here's the big one, sucralose, the chemically engineered sweetener sixty thousand times sweeter than sugar and the progenitor of unknown side effects to one's health, reduced iron, and pyridoxine hydrochloride. Of course. You really can't make oatmeal without pyridoxine hydrochloride. It gives it that home cooked flavor.
Actually, and not surprisingly, the stuff tasted awful, like a bowl of hot sugar with apple flavored gum drops in it.
So I bought some in the store. But, seeing as another adult change has left me looking at the prices of things and doing disconcerting math in my head, I realized Quaker Oats was three times the price of another, similar looking box of oatmeal of the same flavor. So I got that one. It's called Food Club Instant Oatmeal and claims to have been around since 1945. It also claims to have 50 percent less sugar than "regular apples and cinnamon instant oatmeal." That should have been a clue.
So I had some this morning. I was surprised at how, during its morph from powder to squishy mush it actually took on the appearance of having big chunks of stuff where before there were no chunks. They looked like pieces of apple. And that's what they tasted like, too. Sort of. They were chewier and way too sweet to be a normal apple. So I checked the ingredients list on the box.
I don't have a box of the stuff I used to eat, but seeing as how the rule in our house was sugar could not be listed in the top three on the ingredients list, I'm thinking sugar was one of the last things listed. And I imagine there were very few ingredients other than oats, cinnamon and some kind of apple flavor.
The Food Club ingredients list is in tiny print that stretches down the box for two inches. After rolled oats, there's dehydrated apples, which makes sense, except that they are "treated with sodium sulfite to promote color retention." Promote color retention? Then comes sugar, number three, which means it would never make it into our house, then salt, cinnamon, and here is where it gets weird. Calcium carbonate (isn't that the stuff they use for upset stomachs?), natural flavors (I can't imagine what those entail), citric acid, guar gum, yes guar gum, and here's the big one, sucralose, the chemically engineered sweetener sixty thousand times sweeter than sugar and the progenitor of unknown side effects to one's health, reduced iron, and pyridoxine hydrochloride. Of course. You really can't make oatmeal without pyridoxine hydrochloride. It gives it that home cooked flavor.
Actually, and not surprisingly, the stuff tasted awful, like a bowl of hot sugar with apple flavored gum drops in it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)