December 30, 2005
An Unlovely Realization
For a goodly amount of time, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have prided ourselves on the highbrow audience devoted to our learned musings. Sure, we may not have a particularly large passel of followers, but we have long figured that this was because our recondite animadversions were too highfalutin for the Great Unwashed. We thought that, whereas hoi polloi enjoy gorging themselves on hotdogs and light beer, those of far more subtle tastes prefer this humble “weblog,” along with the occasional cruller.
Naturally, dear reader, this greatly aided our collective night’s sleep. After all, our “weblog” has proved about as popular as Sandra Bernhardt in Saudi Arabia. Pretty much the only thing that keeps us going is the notion that, like the folks at Commentary, we write for the few, the powerful, the obstinately literate.
Unfortunately, a few recent perusals of our “hit counter” have demonstrated that we may be incorrect in our prior suppositions. As devotees of Al Gore’s World-Wide Web may well know, dutiful “webloggers” have the ability to check the search words used by those connecting to their “websites.” And, to our great surprise, a couple of quick checks of this information have left us dismayed.
We naturally figured that aspiring readers of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” would search for us with such keywords as “problems with historicist thought,” or “Nietzsche and fascism,” or “chiaroscuro and pointillism.” And we were very, very wrong. We mean like Howard Dean wrong.
It appears as if particularly popular searches leading to our humble “website” are more like the following: “naked midgets,” “men with ponytails,” “list of carpenters with contacts in Albania + 2005.” Even the more learned “links” are much like the following: “trivial facts about muffins.”
A bit depressing, is it not? Here we are waxing grandiloquent in order to enthrall the supremely educated, and our “website” has become most popular among the “naked midget” crowd. And, given our multiple use of the phrase “naked midget” in this very “post,” this sordid crowd is liable to grow and grow, much like fungus on a naked midget. (Let’s see if that pulls in any more halfwits.)
In fact, dear reader, the sundry references to sexual matters employed by searchers who traveled to “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” have led us to this shocking revelation: Al Gore’s Internet is a bastion of pornography. Who would have guessed? Surely not Tipper.
As Dan Quayle once said: O tempora! O mores!
December 29, 2005
It’s That Time of Year Again
Well, dear reader, the “weblogging” community has hit its typical annual rut. As we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” recall from last year, darn near every “weblogger” spends precious little time on his “website” in the days between late December and early January.
Although we have not conducted a scientific study to demonstrate that this is assuredly the case, informal discussion around the office water-cooler suggests a particular reason for this almost omnipresent e-laziness. As far as we can determine, manifold Americans—as well as those from markedly less distinguished countries, like Canada—are celebrating Christmas and New Years with their families. This, it seems, keeps sundry “webloggers” away from their “weblogs,” and makes “surfing” the Internet about as fun as watching “Full House” re-runs. Without John Stamos.
Devoted readers of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” will undoubtedly realize, however, that the crack young staff does not take such perfidious e-breaks. It doesn’t trouble itself to “enjoy holidays,” or, more generally, to have a “life.” Heck no: Instead, we are dutifully punching the clock, ensuring that you, dear reader, have a daily dose of pseudo-humor. We’re as loyal to our fans as George W. Bush is to Harriet Miers. And that proved to work out pretty well.
You may think we’re about as funny as a groin pull, but we’re here all the same. As some famous person or other once said, “Quantity, not quality.” In addition to being the unofficial slogan of Denny’s restaurants, that phrase has always served us well.
More importantly for our purposes, the sudden dearth of e-commentary on the “weblogs” has, to put it politely, left our audience about as large as the average Japanese man’s penis. And, for those of you clueless about such things, that’s not very big at all.
Naturally, dear reader, this has simply enraged us. We’re doing our part, for crying out loud, and we feel that others should be doing the same. Get back to work, you dirty hippies! Stop lollygagging! As some famous person or other once said—albeit in a slightly different context—“Ask not what the Internet can do for you; ask what you can do for the Internent.”
Or words to that effect.
December 28, 2005
Irksome Internet Navel-Gazing from the Crack Young Staff
Another Christmas has come and gone, dear reader, and, as the New Year approaches apace, we find ourselves in a particularly contemplative mood. Frankly, we’re not terribly sure why.
Perhaps it’s the fact that Christmastime television is horrid if you’ve already seen It’s a Wonderful Life three squillion times. Other than that, such fetching programs as “Inside the Certified Public Accountant’s Studio: With James Lipton” besmirch the airwaves. When the best thing on the boob tube is a crusty old Vietnam veteran pontificating about the glories of World War I on “Book TV,” it’s well past time to turn off the set.
Anyway, having moved to our fancy new digs here at MuNu, we have recently expended much mental energy ruminating about the glories and follies of our “weblog.” More specifically, we have been thinking about those well-nigh ubiquitous features of “webloggery,” “comments” and “trackbacks.”
To be dreadfully honest, dear reader, we only semi-learned what “trackbacks” are a few weeks ago. And we’re not entirely sure we understand correctly. More importantly, however, numerous e-eminences previously informed us that “trackbacks” are the key to Internet superstardom. Just add “trackbacks” to your “website” and you’ll become more popular than Fidel Castro at a rally of subscribers to The Nation magazine.
Okay, we figured; since “trackbacks” are the key to the Internet Promised Land, we’ll get our Official Luddite Technical Department to install them. So, after some obligatory fussing and cussing, install them they did.
And…not much happened. Sure, we’ve received a few “trackbacks”: Notably our pals the Llamas and Kathy the Elegant Cakeeater. But most “weblogs” have chosen to “link” to us without “tracking back.” This has left us a bit confused. In the inimitable (though oft imitated) words of that lady from those Wendy’s commercials, “Where’s the beef?” Wasn’t that lady named Walter Mondale?
But we digress. Frankly, this all has compelled us to rethink our position on “comments.” Numerous e-eminences also informed us that “comments” were a necessity for the popular “weblogger.” After all, if you don’t let your readers “comment” on your “posts,” you’ll wind up as unpopular as the Instapundit, who doesn’t allow “comments.” A sad, sad fate indeed.
But, dear reader, we are deeply concerned that umpteen goose eggs in the “trackbacks” and “comments” section will make our “weblog” seem as popular as George W. Bush at a rally of subscribers to The Nation magazine. Nothing says “this ‘weblog’ is mercilessly unpopular” quite like a string of “Comments 0; Trackbacks 0” after each “post.”
In addition, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have enough urgent e-detractors among our e-correspondents that allowing them to “comment” on our “website” may be a nightmare.
What to do? What to do? If we allowed “comments” on our “website,” perhaps we could ask you.
December 27, 2005
December’s Official Academic of the Month
We know, dear reader, that you have been patiently waiting for that luminous apex in our “weblogging” month—our declaration of the December Official Academic of the Month. In previous installments, we have lauded a variety of unsavory tenured radicals, championing their commitment to indoctrinating students and establishing an intellectually intolerant learning environment.
And why have we done this? Because, dear reader, that is what good education is all about. Or at least that’s what Stanley Fish taught us. (Is there a Stanley Fish in this class?)
Right about now, you must be wondering: “Who in the good Lord’s name is sufficiently noxious to deserve the glorious title of Academic of the Month?” Or words to that effect.
Well, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are pleased to announce that this month’s award winner is none other than John Montgomery, a mathematics professor at the University of Rhode Island. Okay, you say, so who is John Montgomery? From a quick perusal of his “website,” we get the impression that he’s an utterly inoffensive pedant. No pontifications about “feminist algebra” should be spewing from the orifices of this math expert.
As anodyne as Mr. Montgomery may appear, he is actually a rather pernicious character. In fact, a student columnist at the University of Rhode Island campus newspaper complained about the way in which Mr. Montgomery taught Venn Diagrams to his Math 107 class.
Mr. Montgomery offered the following charming example:
W = all members of President Bush’s administration
S = all members who are stupid
I = all members who are incompetent
Y = all members who are “yes –men” (or women)
Describe and draw a Venn Diagram:
a) all incompetent “yes-men” who are not stupid
b) those who are stupid or incompetent, but not yes-men.
We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” particularly savored his addition of “or women” next to his “yes-men” category: One can blithely call the Bush administration a passel of knuckle-dragging Neanderthals, but one wouldn’t want to upset the feminists in one’s midst!
In addition to this delightful display of political intolerance, Mr. Montgomery also used another lovely example in this class: “No Republican cares for the homeless.” Ah, yes, all in a good day’s work for a math professor.
In his own defense, the Good Doctor claimed that his examples were merely designed to entertain students, to make sure they stayed awake in his class. If this were truly the case, why didn’t Mr. Montgomery offer sentences such as “All attractive college girls are easy”? That surely would have entertained the inebriated jocks at URI, but perhaps the Good Doctor would consider it an inappropriate statement? For some reason, however, he finds the use of his math class as an opportunity to castigate unfairly his political opponents entirely appropriate. Well, that’s entertainment, we guess.
Well, Mr. Montgomery, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” also strive to entertain. And thus, solely in the name of entertainment, we shall present our own array of unfair statements—even though you may not like them too much.
Mr. Montgomery is an ignoramus whose actions are an affront to the traditions of liberal learning. His inability to grasp why his blatant political hectoring is inappropriate demonstrates that he is utterly unfit to instruct undergraduates. And it is also a sign that the American academy has become so utterly politicized, so replete with left-wing posturing, that professors can’t tell the difference between earnest teaching and mindless political cheerleading. Also, Mr. Montgomery is a nerd.
For these reasons, dear reader, we’re sure you’ll agree that Mr. Montgomery fully deserves our coveted December Academic of the Month crown. He must be very, very proud.
If you know a good candidate for our Academic of the Month program, feel free to drop us a line by pressing the “Contact Us” “link” at the top right-hand corner of your computer screen. There are so many noxious professors, and so little time.
December 26, 2005
Becoming Famous Public Intellectuals: A Stolen Idea
A good while back, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” mentioned that we pine to become illustrious public intellectuals—the sorts of fellows and lasses who are sufficiently famous in the world of letters to spend alternate Tuesdays bashing Pat Buchanan on “Hardball.” For this, naturally, is how you can tell if you are a really serious intellect.
Anyway, given the recent spate of e-popularity this humble “weblog” has enjoyed since its impressive last-place finish in the 2005 Weblog Awards, we have been contemplating all the more ways to vault into intellectual superstardom. After literally minutes of brainstorming, we are embarrassed to admit that we haven’t come up with much. For some reason, every time we attempt to channel a deep thought, visions of turkey jerky get in the way. Odd, isn’t it? We blame Ron Popeil.
Still, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” did recall one famous intellectual’s sure-fire advice for becoming fellow members of the public intellectual tribe. David Brooks, the New York Times columnist chiefly known for offering watered-down versions of conservatism to the knuckle-dragging paleo-liberals in his reading audience and paying the price with a massive stack of hate mail, wrote the much-discussed tome Bobos in Paradise. If we recall correctly, the book offered a witty description of some of the most noxious people on earth, and then claimed that they are wonderful.
More importantly to our designs, Brooks argues that the way to become a famous public intellectual is to write a completely implausible article. This will compel your fellow hacks to rebuke you, and ensure that you will be a big player in the small world of intellectual superstardom. Brooks’ humorous example was Francis Fukyama, whose “End of History” article was about as plausible as Madonna being a virgin.
So, we thought to ourselves, Brooks may be on to something. After all, Maureen Dowd is a famous public intellectual, and she’s never even penned a mildly convincing sentence. If you may permit us to invent our own memorable quip, every word Maureen Dowd has ever written is a lie, including “and” and “the.” Take that, Mary McCarthy, Lillian Hellman, and Dick Cavett.
Okay, okay: It isn’t a bad idea. As such, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must now drum up a beautifully incorrect article to publish. But what theme should we pick? What will really draw the ire of our fellow public intellectuals?
Herewith, dear reader, we present a few humble ideas for articles. We have offered them in the form of zippy titles, so that you can get a good sense of the brouhaha we intend to start up. Without further ado, then, we are pleased as petulant pigs to present:
“The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” Official Titles to Utterly Nonsensical Articles Aimed at Making the Crack Young Staff Famous Public Intellectuals
1. “Figs: The Real Source of the Problems with the Bush Doctrine”
2. “Flatulence: Your Way to Popularity with the Ladies”
3. “Ten Reasons Why Michael Scheuer Isn’t a Complete Ignoramus”
4. “Ending the War on Terror by Encouraging Pre-Teen Homosexuality”
5. “Art School: The True Path to Success”
6. “Joseph Stalin Was Right about Everything”
7. “Lose Weight and Stay Fit with the Circus Peanuts Diet”
8. “Wilson Philips: The Geniuses of Western Music”
9. “Howard Dean—Now More Electable than Ever”
Now, if we can only get The Atlantic Monthly to print one of these steaming heaps of garbage…
December 25, 2005
Merry Christmas from the Crack Young Staff
We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” would be remiss if we did not wish you, our semi-loyal reader(s), a very merry Christmas. Naturally, it would be downright odious of us not to do so. In addition, we’d be certain to face a rather nasty boycott from the likes of Bill O’Reilly. And, hey, we only have three readers a week; do we really need to alienate two of them?
That said, dear reader, what is Christmas without presents? As un-American as curling and Molson, we’d say. Eh.
Accordingly, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” thought long and hard about an appropriate gift we might bestow upon our colossal readership. At first, we figured saltwater taffy would fit the bill. Who doesn’t love taffy? But then wiser minds—and our orthodontist—prevailed. Think of all those fillings destroyed.
Instead, then, we figured we’d offer you the gift of “links.” Sounds pretty cheap of us, doesn’t it? Well, we suppose that this is one way to put it.
But, to us, it’s one of the most heartwarming and beauteous gifts one can bestow (and it’s free). Below you will find some “links” to marvelous “Weblogs,” which we read religiously. If you aren’t checking them out, we humbly suggest you do so posthaste. This is, in some sense, a gift that keeps on giving. Like heartburn.
An Official Christmas Gift from the Crack Young Staff: Must-Read “Weblogs”
1. The Riehl World View (a.k.a. The Carnivorous Conservative): Dan, the proprietor of this wondrous “weblog,” received cartloads of fame for his around-the-clock coverage of the Natalee Holloway disappearance. He’s so darn knowledgeable about this and so much else, we have the sneaking suspicion that he is Natalee Holloway. Admittedly, though, this wouldn’t make much sense. Perhaps we should have thought that through more before we wrote it.
2. The Ebb & Flow Institute: Okay, so we have a bone to pick with these guys. Like many other “weblog” proprietors, the Ebbers and Flowers officially endorsed another candidate for the 2005 Humor/Comics Weblog Award. We, of course, hold grudges like Oprah’s against Letterman. But we’re willing to be man and woman enough to inform you that their “weblog” is uproariously funny, and horribly overlooked.
3. The Joy of Curmudgeonry: The proprietor of this well-written “weblog,” interestingly called Deogowulf, writes some interesting demolitions of fashionable academics. It’s smart and well worth the read.
4. Naked Villainy: It’s just plain hilarious. The Maximum Leader, tyrant of Naked Villainy, is our official vacation replacement at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly.” If that doesn’t speak well of his e-genius, we collectively don’t know what does.
5. Lynn Sislo’s A Sweet, Familiar Dissonance: Mrs. Sislo is a wonderfully open-minded critic of the arts. We particularly esteem her takes on classical music. If you ask us, anyone who knows Dittersdorf can’t be all bad.
So there you have it, dear reader: Our gift to you. Let us note that these fine “weblogs” are not the only fine “weblogs” on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web. If you haven’t been mentioned by us and you’re as sore as Madonna after a visit to the Chicago Bulls’ dressing room, we must inform you that our list was of necessity brief. We’ll pick some more excellent “weblogs” in the weeks to come.
For now, dear reader, we must wish you a merry Christmas.
December 23, 2005
Other Christmas-Time Wars
Anyone suitably lucky to check out the festival of erudition known as The O’Reilly Factor knows that the show’s eponymous host is in a lather about the so-called War on Christmas (henceforth, WOC). According to Mr. O’Reilly, our beloved country is about three “Happy Holidays” greetings away from throwing Christians to the lions.
Naturally, the Catholic and Protestant members of the crack young staff are duly alarmed by the WOC, and by the apocalyptic scenarios it will undoubtedly bring. Except for the Unitarians, of course: As far as we can intuit, they worship three cats named Carl, and aren’t terribly concerned about the likelihood of being confused with real Christians.
Anyway, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” were contemplating the horrors of WOC, and a disturbing—and disturbingly multicultural—thought occurred to us: What about other possible Christmas-Time Wars? Surely the “Happy Holidays” plague isn’t merely marring Christmas? What about the other religious and pseudo-religious holidays?
And it seems, dear reader, as if we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quartelry,” were the first to notice this ancillary danger in the WOC. It appears as if the Winter Solstice lobby isn’t as strong as the Christian lobby (or, as our radical friends would put it, the Zionist lobby), and thus our country is not home to a Winter Solstice version of the enraged Mr. O’Reilly.
That is to say, until now. In today’s humble “post,” dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” aim to mention a few other Holiday Season Wars, which have not received as much attention, but which are equally vexing to the fabric of our nation.
The War on Hanukkah
Unfortunately, dear reader, the Warriors against Hanukkah have made great strides in recent years—ever since “Seinfeld” was cancelled, in fact. It’s getting to the point that one can no longer say “dradel” in public; rather, one must refer to “a boring top imbued with unknown religious import.”
As if this weren’t bad enough, numerous Americans, Middle Easterners, Asians, and Europeans have extended their War on Hanukkah to a more expansive War on Jews (which is deceptively labeled a War on Zionism). Interestingly, although numerous Americans, Middle Easterners, Asians, and Europeans believe that fundamentalist Christians are bigots, they are among the very least susceptible to this War on Jews. Perhaps to our friends on the Left and atavistic Right anti-Semitism isn’t bigotry?
The War on Kwanzaa
As if the War on Hanukkah weren’t sufficiently upsetting, the War on Kwanzaa is positively devastating. These days, the typical Kwanzaa reveler is so oppressed that he can’t announce his hatred of whitey in public. What is the world coming to? Or, for the grammatical sticklers among us, to what is the world coming?
If the War on Kwanzaa becomes even more entrenched, we may see the state execute Kwanzaa enthusiasts merely because they murder four people in cold blood and co-found the Crips—and even though they write a few heart-wrenching children’s books about it. Maybe Louis Farrakhan and we are not the only ones who are alarmed by this prospect.
December 22, 2005
Bill Christison's Orgy
Those concerned about America’s ability to win the War on Terrorism should think long and hard about the fact that an anti-Semitic dolt like Michael Scheuer, author of the feculent title Imperial Hubris, formerly held a vaunted position in the CIA. If chuckleheads such as Scheuer—who infamously claimed that the American Holocaust Museum was an insidious example of Jewish propaganda—is the type of fellow hunting for Osama bin Laden, we’re not highly likely to defeat Islamofascism anytime soon.
Okay, you say: Michael Scheuer is clearly a raving loon. But, come on; he’s only one guy. Surely that doesn’t signal any kind of grave crisis in the CIA. Surely all the other analysts would make Mr. Scheuer seem like the helmeted short-bus passenger he is.
As John Kerry might say, in typically demotic phraseology, would it were so. But, alas, a gander at a terse article by one Bill Christison demonstrates that this is not, in fact, the case.
Said article, which is actually a transcription of a brief speech Mr. Christison delivered at a “Peace-with-Justice” (and capitulation) rally, appears in the e-pages of the “web” journal Counterpunch. Astute readers, then, will already have cause for concern: Counterpunch, edited by deranged conspiracy theorist Alexander Cockburn, is the source of all varieties of loony anti-capitalist carping.
So, you are probably not asking yourself, who is the milquetoast-named Bill Christison? Well, the folks at Counterpunch refer to him as “a senior official of the CIA. He served as a National Intelligence Officer and as Director of the CIA's Office of Regional and Political Analysis.” This, dear reader, does not bode well for these here United States.
Even before one gets to the article itself, one can already tell that its author is a bit of a rube. The introduction to the piece tells us the following:
Challenged by the thought that people who would never listen for ten minutes might indeed listen for three, the author of this piece spoke the following.
Well, that is a very challenging thought. Perhaps Mr. Christison would like to be challenged by this brain-teaser: No one wants to read the arrant piffle of a lunatic—no matter how long or short said piffle is. Vexing, isn’t it?
Okay, okay, you say, get to the article. What makes it, in short, the work of a nutter? Need we do better than offer the first three paragraphs?
We need to WAKE UP! The policies of the United States are a human rights disaster. Here we are, in December 2005, engaged in an orgy of shopping and consumerism, blatantly glorifying our wealth and utterly unconcerned with the picture this orgy presents to the world's poor. The global policies of the U.S. are seen -- and justly so -- as greedy and immoral, policies that violate the human rights of the poor and the powerless everywhere.
At the same time we also glorify our military, and fight wars in which we kill and torture many people, wars that most of the world believes are designed to enlarge our own and our closest allies' wealth and power. In the process, the military-industrial complex that runs the U.S. government rakes in obscene profits.
Outside the United States it is widely understood that the true motives of the Bush administration for invading Iraq in 2003 were threefold: (1) the U.S. drive for global empire, (2) oil, and (3) the desire of the neocons in Washington to conquer Iraq in order to benefit Israel. Inside the U.S., the last of these reasons -- the pressure of the neocons for war on Israel's behalf -- is hardly ever mentioned.
This is the thoughtful exegesis of a CIA analyst? If such genius is a product of our intelligent agency’s best and brightest, can someone explain why we shouldn’t “out” these fellows and lasses in the press? As far as we can tell, the Islamists would love to find out the names of some covert CIAers—that way, they could make a few more friends and allies.
Notice, dear reader, the pathetic Marxoid “logic” of this excerpt: Somehow the West’s “orgy” of shopping is impoverishing the world’s poor. Can we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” suggest that Mr. Christison has never taken an economics class? After all, his argument seems about as sophisticated as Pierre-Joseph Proudhon’s Property Is Theft.
This guy ought to stop fixating on consumerism as an “orgy,” and take out a book on Adam Smith from his local library. Perhaps someone has penned an Orgy of Adam Smith book for him to savor?
Quite naturally, it is more than a bit disturbing that this former CIA analyst believes the whole “Israel Is To Blame for All of the Muslim World’s Pathologies” argument. And his unsubtle Jew-baiting ain’t particularly quaint either.
But perhaps his No-Blood-for-Oil thesis is the most appalling. This guy, who presumably had access to all types of intelligence, still opines that the US liberated Iraq for petroleum interests.
All of this leads us, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” to conclude that Bill Christison’s is the only orgy we wouldn’t like to attend.
December 21, 2005
Barbie-Torturers of the World, Unite!
We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” don’t esteem anything more than useful academic studies funded by public tax dollars. Sure, there are a few things we esteem equally: Paper cuts; the Mormon Tabernacle Choir; Frank Stallone. But we hold nothing in higher esteem.
It seems as if the British taxpayer feels the same way. As The Daily Telegraph reports, the Brits have just flipped the bill for an intriguing Bath University study pertaining to the ultimate causes of children’s violent tendencies toward their Barbie dolls. Sounds well worth the cash, doesn’t it?
Sarah Womack of the Telegraph reports:
In a finding that will astonish many parents, academics at Bath University concluded that girls attack their Barbie dolls as a symbol of their rejection of the consumer society. "Barbie provoked rejection, hatred and violence," said Dr Agnes Nairn, who led the research for the university's school of management.
Ah, so the Good Doctor Nairn is certain that children’s attacks on Barbie dolls is a symptom of the tykes’ mass disdain for the evils of capitalism. That sounds eminently reasonable. Perhaps the kids would prove more respectful of copies of The Communist Manifesto that Dr. Nairn would like to offer them. Or maybe Dr. Nairn would give the kiddies some cookware for playtime: A Pol Pot, perhaps.
Strangely, the Good Doctor’s sensible The-Kids-Mutilate-Barbie-Because-They-Loathe-the-Despicable-Capitalism-and-Oppression-of-the-Greedy-West argument has a few detractors. One such loon is Roland Earl, who works for the British Toy and Hobby Association, which we presume is a front for Halliburton.
Regarding the study, Mr. Earl opines: “Kids have always pulled things apart, and dolls are still as popular as they ever were.”
So, dear reader, there you have it: The academic believes that the microwaving of Barbies demonstrates toddlers’ deep-rooted kinship with the oppressed of the Third World and a political statement against the evils of corporatism. The non-academic, on the other hand, believes that beating up on Barbies is typical behavior for tots.
Perhaps this is why so many people take academics’ opinions so seriously these days.
December 20, 2005
How Can You Be So Right and So Wrong at the Same Time?
Upon perusing the Ace of Spades “weblog”—another fine product of MuNu genius—we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” came upon a rather curious report from Iran, which appears to specialize in curious reports these days. The San Francisco Chronicle notes that the country’s deranged nutter of a president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has officially outlawed “Western music from Iran’s radio and TV stations.”
According to the Chronicle, this amounts to the revival of “one of the harshest cultural decrees from the early days of [the] 1979 Islamic Revolution.” So far, dear reader, we are fully willing to believe that this is just another example of President Ahmadinejad’s status as an odious tyrant.
But the piece continues:
Songs such as George Michael’s “Careless Whisper,” Eric Clapton’s “Rush” and the Eagles’ “Hotel California” have regularly accompanied Iranian broadcasts, as do tunes by saxophonist Kenny G.
But the official IRAN Persian daily reported Monday that Ahmadinejad, as head of Iran’s Supreme Cultural Revolutionary Council, ordered the enactment of an October ruling by the council to ban Western music.
Interestingly, the article does not mention a ban on, say, Dittersdorf symphonies, Ornette Coleman’s Free Jazz album, or Irving Berlin tunes. That is to say, the report makes it appear as if this unhinged Holocaust-denying moron has simply banned George Michael, Eric Clapton, and Kenny G—the latter, we presume, because he’s Jewish, even if he’s produced a feculent Christmas album.
To be honest, dear reader, this has all left us a mite perplexed. Naturally, we don’t support the banning of all Western music: If you ask us, Iranians would be better served by dropping their instruments and working on their country’s GDP. And who would want to keep the Iranian public away from Western classical music and jazz?
In addition, we are certainly loath to cheer “Here, Here!” in regard to anything President Ahmadinejad does. This guy is so repellent he makes the typical Muslim dictator seem like Howard Dean.
But, come on: Who among the non-brain-dead wouldn’t want George Michael’s “Careless Whisper” obliterated from memory? Can a truly cosmopolitan free society tolerate Kenny G? We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” fully support an addendum to the Patriot Act that makes owning a Kenny G album a federal offense.
So, we guess what we mean to say here is that you shouldn’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. Sure, the difference between the President of Iran and a bucket of garbage is the bucket. And, sure, he’s one of the most noxious figures in recent memory.
But, hey, he hates George Michael, which means that he can’t be all bad after all.
December 19, 2005
Mu-Nu-ving on Up
Welcome to our new humble “website”! As we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” noted in Friday’s humble “post”—the last full “post” to be “posted” on our ole’ “Blogspot” digs—we have been sufficiently fortunate to change our “website’s” address. For well nigh two years, dear reader, as folks who call “Blogspot” home, we have been treated as the Internet equivalent of Ricki Lake. In short, no one wanted to touch us.
But no longer. The “web” geniuses at MuNu have graciously invited us to join their convivial cluster of “webloggers.” Naturally, dear reader, we (literally) jumped at the opportunity. After all, many of our e-favorites inhabit the MuNu sphere: The delicately titled Llamabutchers, Dr. Rusty Shackelford, phin, et al. In fact, we simply can’t wait to stroll through our new MuNu “links,” and see what erstwhile hidden e-treasures await.
Naturally, then, we must inform you that our “web” address has changed: It’s now http://hatemongers.mu.nu or http://hatemongersquarterly.mu.nu. To be honest, if you are already reading this humble “post,” you probably recognize this. Either that, or you have sustained some sort of nasty cranial injury.
Many of our devoted reader(s) likely have all kinds of questions about our new move to MuNu. As such, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” decided to spend today’s humble “post” answering a series of potential e-queries, which we feel could be “frequently asked questions” if we did not figuratively head them off at the figurative pass.
Without much in the way of further ado, then, we are delighted to announce our Official Responses to Unofficial Questions Regarding Our E-Move:
“The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” Official Responses to Unofficial Questions Regarding Our E-Move
Q: Now that you guys have moved to a fancier address, can we still expect the same brand of knee-slapping hilarity we have come to love from your luminous animadversions?
A: Boy, you are really laying it on thick with that question, reader. “The same brand of knee-slapping hilarity”? Geez: You need to get out more often.
Q: If I recall correctly, you were trounced in the 2005 Weblog Awards. Is your move to MuNu some sort of informal penance?
A: Well, that was a really obnoxious query. Okay, so we performed wretchedly in the 2005 Weblog Awards. Do we need to be reminded of this fact every cotton-pickin’ minute? For cryin’ out loud. We don’t bring up your failures every day, you obnoxious dolt.
Q: Why must you cast aspersions at “Blogspot”? Sure, it isn’t a perfect program, but it served you well for close to two years. Don’t you owe the folks at “Blogspot” a little appreciation?
A: Jesus! Is this our mothers writing in? Sure, we admit that “Blogspot” isn’t that horrid. But it’s still the Internet equivalent of Detroit. If you moved to Phoenix from Gary, Indiana, would you owe thanks to the hoodlums from Gary, or would you simply thank your luck stars that you left that hellhole?
Q: As a longtime reader of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” I’ve gotten to know the crack young staff pretty well. And let me just say that I am pretty into you guys. I’m not sure if you are dating or not, but I’ve often wondered what it may be like to take you fellahs and ladies out for a night on the town. You know, do it classy: An early candlelight dinner at a nice French bistro around the corner; a Dittersdorf string quartet playing in the background; key lime pie. Afterwards we’d head to a show, perhaps the film or Broadway version of Rent. And then I’d try to get you guys to come back to my place. I’d lovingly take your coats at the door, caressing your shoulders as I helped you slip them off. Michael Bolton would be on the hi-fi—“When a Man Loves a Woman,” or some such. After a cocktail or two, we’d really start to get to knowing one another. So, I suppose my question is: Are you guys free on Friday?
A: Alright, that’s enough with the questions. We’ve really freaked ourselves out with that last one.
December 16, 2005
Our Gracious Concession Speech
Well, dear reader, it’s official. Our humble “weblog” must now endure the unfortunate humility of placing in dead last in the Best Humor/Comics Blog of the 2005 Weblog Awards. As such, it turns out that we most assuredly do not compose the most humorous or comical “weblog” on Al Gore’s Internet. There are at least 12 that are far superior.
As we noted yesterday, this realization has ushered in a period of malaise and ennui here at “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” Headquarters. We suck more than Madonna in the Chicago Bulls’ dressing room. And it hurts, dear reader; it hurts a lot.
Still, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” are nothing if not gracious. We aren’t the types of fellows and lasses who let a little thing like being totally humiliated get in the way of presenting shopworn pleasantries we don’t mean.
Accordingly, we have been working on our amiable concession speech for the better part of an hour. We may have been ignored like rice cakes in Roseanne Barr’s dressing room, but this won’t stop us from a cheerful concession.
Affixed below, then, you will find our Official Gracious Concession Speech for our dismal failure in the 2005 Weblog Awards. We hope that our vaunting of its resplendent magnificence fully lives up to our storied reputation for humility.
An Official Gracious Concession Speech by The Crack Young Staff of THMQ, Official Major-League Losers of the 2005 Weblog Awards
The great Don Ho once said, in some context or other, that “It’s not the size of the guitar that matters; it’s how many strings it has.” Frankly, that’s easy for him to say: He’s Hawaiian.
How, you may be asking yourself, does this relate to our predicament as the galacitally mortified ultra-losers of the 2005 Weblog Awards? To be honest, we’re not entirely sure. Perhaps this is a typical example of our scatterbrained incompetence, which led us to such lows in the first place.
But let’s not blame ourselves for our miserable performance. As any “underrepresented” minority or woman knows, it’s a heck of a lot easier to foist the blame on white men. Trust us: It really cuts down on all the heart-rending introspection you must accomplish.
As much as we’d like—and as much as the world’s Affirmative Action Officers would esteem—we simply can’t blame whitey entirely for our dismal failures. There are many others who deserve a good drubbing.
First, why not take aim at the slack-jawed yokels who failed to recognize our genius? It’s amazing that you semi-retarded automatons manage to tie your shoes in the morning. Our humble musings must certainly have alienated you. Especially with their grandiloquent vocabulary—words like “and” and “the.” That must have sent you running for the Webster’s.
But we would be remiss if we did not also take a page out of the Official Arab and Muslim Playbook and blame Israel as well. Whilst Ariel Sharon and his evil minions likely didn’t have a direct impact on the 2005 Weblog Awards, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are pretty certain they schemed against us behind the scenes.
Well, dear reader, that’s about as much cheerfulness and grace as we can take for one day. So we must simply bid adieu to the 2005 Weblog Awards, and hope that we can somehow drink a sufficient number of Zimas to forget our miserable failure.
In more upbeat news, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” will soon announce our move to a brand-spankin’-new “web” address. We’ll still be presenting the non-award-winning humor you haven’t come to love. But it’ll be in nicer surroundings than you’d expect from “Blogspot.”
December 15, 2005
This Garbage Is the Best? Or, Vote for Us, We Beg of You!
Note: This humble “post” will stay atop our humble “weblog” for the duration of the 2005 Weblog Awards voting. For newer material, see below.
Well, dear reader, we’re in deep trouble now. Apparently one of our readers nominated us for a 2005 Weblog Award—Best Humor/Comics Weblog (for which you can vote here). This means, quite naturally, that we are up against some stiff competition—and no, that isn’t a pornographic reference.
And so we need your help. To be downright honest, we stand about as much chance of winning as those Marxist goons who ran Grenada during Reagan’s invasion. Jackie Mason has a better shot of getting an award from CAIR.
Accordingly, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” humbly exhort you to plump for us, so that we don’t prove as unpopular as a Pete Dupont for President campaign. We know we’re likely to lose, but we don’t want to get beaten like a red-headed step-child.
So, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” suggest that you, our (un)devoted fan, cast your ballot in Mayor Daley fashion: Vote early, often, and even when deceased.
Just in case you aren’t entirely certain of our storied e-magnificence, we humbly offer the following blasts from the past, which, we feel, shall more than demonstrate our coruscating genius:
Bridget Newman Is More Than Her Vagina
The World's Greatest Norwegian
We Fear Bad Poetry
Social Justice Camp?
Dana Cloud: Occupation: Academic Buffoon
A Special Twofer: Kenny Rogers & Kenny Rogers
Chidsey Dickson: Occupation: Academic Buffoon
Not-So-Hot Yoga, Part the First
On Ode to Eleanor Clift
The Irritating Jim Cramer
The Art of the Undergraduate Essay
And how about some e-greatness from 2004:
The Complaints Department
Becoming a Famous Public Intellectual
Summer Interns Wanted
B. Dalton Books, The Moron's Bookstore
The Best a Man Can Get?
Should You Drink Yellow Snow?
Take the Patriotism Quiz
Edward Said: The Musical
Maoist Film Reviews?
Bush-Bashing with the Best of 'Em
If this e-brilliance isn’t worth you’re vote, we collectively don’t know what is.
Polishing Up Our Concession Speech
Well, dear reader, today is the last day on which you can vote for us in the finals of the much-esteemed Best Humor/Comics Blog category in the 2005 Weblog Awards. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” would beg you to plump for us, but, quite frankly, a quick glance at the ole’ vote totals reveals that it’s all pretty hopeless. As of this “post’s” writing, our humble “weblog” is in absolute last place.
That’s right, dear reader: You can count all the “weblogs” we are beating on no fingers. Despite the best efforts of our seemingly paltry fan base, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are soon to be remembered as the Jamaican bobsled team of the 2005 Weblog Awards. If our “website” were a movie, it’d clearly be Howard the Duck. We’re like the Polish team in the Mental Olympics.
Once we slipped into the caboose, so to say, we began thinking long and hard about our torrentially bad placement in the finals. Frankly, we handled this thing all wrong: Instead of groveling for votes like a two-bit Marion Barry, we should have played down the whole nomination. You know, the whole This-Idea-of-Complimenting-“Weblogs”-for-Supposedly-Being-the-Best-Is-a-Bunch-of-Garbage routine. That way, when we ineluctably came in dead last, we wouldn’t look like Nick Nolte in those DUI arrest photos.
Or maybe, like Phil Collins’ father, we should have pulled out. We could have earned all kinds of e-kudos for magnanimously stepping aside and backing, say, Six Meat Buffet.
But, no, we collectively weren’t bright enough to think things through, and thus we find ourselves in the un-lovely predicament of the It’s-Simply-an-Honor-To-Be-Here position. Ah, the agony, the agony.
So what, you may be asking yourself, exactly happened? How did we become the Internet equivalent of leprosy? Why did our “weblog” have a similar shelf-life of popularity as that of the whilom pop band Living in a Box? Is it because we refer to such things as “the whilom pop band Living in a Box”? That certainly must be part of it.
Perhaps we have far more fans than we think, but these diehard devotees are too darned lazy to vote for us. It’s certainly possible that, like the Grateful Dead, we have oodles of supporters who are essentially shifty ne’er-do-wells. And dirty hippies, now that we think of it.
It also occurred to us that the topics of our resplendent musings aren’t exactly standing-room-only material. Whilst our competition was busy drawing yuks from the Tookie Williams execution, we were busy excoriating Cornel West. We don’t think that’s going to play well in Dubuque.
But let’s face it, dear reader: Our Official Luddite Technical Department has yet to master the frightening world of putting “pictures” up on our “website,” and maybe our complete lack of visual aids has rendered us about as attractive as Drew Carey naked smothered in egg yolks.
Okay, okay—enough of this miserable self-flagellating. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must stop beating ourselves up. Sure, our performance in the 2005 Weblog Awards was about as impressive as a Dolph Lundgren film festival. But so what? We were in a tough category. Perhaps next year we’ll find ourselves with an easier field to beat—maybe in the Best Hat Design category.
For now, dear reader, we’re busy polishing up our concession speech. We’re not entirely sure what we’re going to say, but we’re certain of one thing: It won’t be funny.
December 14, 2005
A Night on the Town with Wonkette
As befits a viciously unpopular “weblogging” outfit, “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” possesses its own Washington office, which is home to a bevy of Washington correspondents. Naturally, we refer to the District of Columbia, not the state of Washington: We’d set up shop in the latter if we thought reports from Walla Walla would charm anyone, but, quite frankly, they won’t.
Most of the time, dear reader, our humble Washington correspondents offer no news. Apparently, not much is happening in the nation’s capital, with the exception of the fact that the Bush administration is turning our country into a police state. Or so we’re told.
Imagine our collective surprise, then, upon receiving a poorly wrought facsimile from our Official Washington Desk. One of our humble correspondents—let’s just call him “Chip”—had some gossip to share about an interesting night on the town he spent with numerous journalistic types. Among those hacks in attendance, dear reader, was none other than Wonkette, one of the great gifts Al Gore bestowed upon us when he invented the Internet. (The other, of course, is Internet pornography, and even Jerry Falwell prefers Internet porn to Wonkette.)
For those of you blissfully unaware of this woman, allow us to inform you that Wonkette is a famed DC-based gossip “weblogger,” who writes juicy tidbits about such fetching vixens as Barbara Boxer and Diane Feinstein. No wonder her “weblog” is really popular!
When we first learned that “Chip” had spent an evening with Wonkette, we felt a mite guilty. After all, we previously harped and harpied about her inane television appearances in this space. If we remember correctly—and we believe that we do—we referred to her as: “a thin, wan 30-something gal who looks as if she’s been genetically engineered to live in a bog. She makes an albino look like Isaac Hayes.”
As if that weren’t sufficiently nasty, we also opined that Wonkette “clearly resembles that girl from your kindergarten class who used to pick her nose and eat it.” Now that “Chip” had come (almost literally) face to face with this creature, we must admit that we were mildly embarrassed by our vituperations.
“Chip’s” report makes clear, however, that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” had no reason to feel bad. Wonkette fully deserves all our contumely—and then some. In fact, since Wonkette enjoys offering up all kinds of dirt on Washington types, we figured that we should return the favor.
Accordingly, then, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” humbly present “Chip’s” missive from DC, which has been slightly edited for the purposes of euphony:
A Night Out With Wonkette
This past weekend I was out and about (as our Canadian friends say) with a few fellow journalists, enjoying some beers in an unbecoming tavern here in Washington. Whereas the other journos in attendance slaved away for such outfits as The Daily Telegraph, NPR, and The Independent, I wowed them all with my status as an official junior Washington correspondent for “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly.” Apparently, our “weblog” is well-respected by the fourth estate.
Anyway, a few draughts into the evening none other than Wonkette arrives, joined by another female. To be perfectly honest, at first I only vaguely recognized her: She looked like some horrid gal or other who went out with me on a lousy date. On second glance, however, I realized that I was wrong: This was Wonkette, the Internet equivalent of a lousy date.
I immediately attempted to make some small talk with her. Whilst her friend was very pleasant, Wonkette was an obnoxious, self-important twit. She routinely ignored pleasantries the other guests offered, preferring to spend her entire night glued to her Blackberry.
On occasion, Wonkette peered up from her little gizmo, in order to wax ostentatious about her luminous career as an e-scribbler. “My father,” she declared, “wants me to sign copies of my forthcoming book for his friends. And I’m like: I don’t even know who these people are.”
As you can imagine, this did not go over well with her audience, which was slightly less interested in her execrable rantings than she. If by “slightly less interested” you mean “not interested at all.”
To make matters worse, in the middle of the evening, whilst others were fully enjoying a convivial atmosphere, Wonkette bellowed to us that she must leave, in order to meet up with her husband. Everyone in attendance must have thought: God bless that wretched man who’s married to this odious chucklehead.
About a half hour later, our party wended its way to another bar. And in this tavern was—lo and behold!—Wonkette, without her hubby. Just to make things more painful for her, we sat at the very next table, whilst she studiously ignored us.
For this reason, I am forced to agree with Cathy the Cakeeater, whose anti-Wonkette stance is as firm as anyone’s. Wonkette is truly a self-obsessed moron. In a just world, she’d be treated like a racehorse that outlived its usefulness.
Needless to say, then, this was a rather unpleasant experience. And it got worse. Anytime I told an acquaintance that I’d spent some time with Wonkette, my interlocutor either didn’t know who she is or found this entirely unremarkable. “I saw her a few weeks ago at a party to which she was not invited,” said one such pal.
It appears as if Wonkette attends every soiree in DC—even though she wasn’t invited to any of them. There’s some gossip for you.
Oh, and by the way, Wonkette does resemble that girl from my kindergarten class who used to pick her nose and eat it.
December 13, 2005
Anti-Fascist Fascism, or The World Appears To Be Waiting
Whilst perusing The New York Times yesterday, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” came upon a rather curious full-page advertisement. Sponsored by the urgent sounding group “The World Can’t Wait,” this strange ad exhorted readers to “Drive Out the Bush Regime.”
Affixed to this incendiary anti-Bush agitprop was a series of reasons why right-thinking (i.e., Left-thinking) chaps should hunger to send the evil Bush junta packing. For example:
YOUR GOVERNMENT is moving each day closer to a theocracy, where a narrow and hateful brand of Christian fundamentalism will rule.
Frankly, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” found this particular point puzzling, given that the radicals behind The World Can’t Wait appear to have no problems with Muslim fundamentalists who aim to turn the entire world into a theocracy. After all, as the group’s “website” makes clear, it is an avowedly Communist group, and many of its members were opposed to uprooting the Taliban. As far as we can determine, then, to our pals at The World Can’t Wait, Osama bin Laden is a fine fellow, but Pat Robertson is awfully dangerous.
Think that point was rebarbative? Here’s another example of coruscating brilliance:
YOUR GOVERNMENT enforces a culture of greed, bigotry, intolerance and ignorance.
On this point, actually, we may be inclined to agree. One of the signers of this Communist drivel is Prof. Cornel West, ersatz “rap” star and ersatz scholar. Brother West, for those of you blissfully unaware of him, is a card-carrying Marxist. And he’s a card-carrying Marxist who makes bundles of money Mau-Mauing universities into offering him a large salary and embarking on extremely lucrative speaking tours. Is this the “culture of greed” that The World Can’t Wait contemns?
Or maybe, in regard to bigotry, they mean Prof. West’s despicable denunciation of Harvard President Lawrence Summers as the “Ariel Sharon of higher education.” President Summers is Jewish, and Brother West, mortified that Mr. Summers had the temerity to question the scholarly import of his “rap” CD, blasted back with a typical example of his charming anti-Semitism. If the Bush junta is enforcing this kind of bigotry, we’re opposed to it too.
As if the ad’s pernicious rhetoric weren’t already sufficiently malign, the folks at The World Can’t Wait simply can’t wait to up the ante:
People look at all this [the Bush Administration has done] and think of Hitler—and they are right to do so. The Bush regime is setting out to radically remake society very quickly, in a fascist way, and for generations to come.
Ah, no crazy lefty rant is complete without the obligatory reference to Hitler, now is it? What impressive political acumen the signers of this nonsense must possess! Couldn’t they lowball their estimations a bit, and merely claim that Bush is akin to Mussolini? Or how about Pinochet? If memory serves, when he was in power he wasn’t that great a guy either.
Clearly, though, the loveable scamps at The World Can’t Wait found the Nazis to be the closest and most illuminating parallel to the Bush administration. Bravo. Hey, if Lawrence Summers is Ariel Sharon, why can’t Bush be Hitler? And maybe Demi Moore could be Tony Blair, and Gary Coleman could be Yao Ming?
Surely the most delicious part of the advert is the following:
There is not going to be a savior from the Democratic Party. This whole idea of putting our hopes and energies into “leaders” who tell us to seek common ground with fascists and religious fanatics is proving every day to be a disaster, and actually serves to demobilize people.
Do the dolts at The World Can’t Wait realize that they are speaking about themselves? In regard to worldwide terrorism, they are the “‘leaders’ who tell us to seek common ground with fascists and religious fanatics”—al Qaeda, Hamas, Islamic Jihad, &c. To be sure, their ideas are dangerous and disastrous, but it appears as if they don’t know it.
So, you ask, what is the point of this dimwitted advertisement? Well, the eminences at The World Can’t Wait aim to “Bring the Noise.” No, that doesn’t mean they hope you can join them in a faux-Broadway tap routine. They appear to have no interest in you “Bringing the Funk.” Or even “Brining da’ Funk.”
Rather, the ad explains: “At 9:00 PM EST, just as Bush starts to speak, everywhere we will bring the noise. In a cacophony of sound we will drown out his address with music….”
Now, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” don’t want to seem like a bunch of spoilsports, but this all strikes us as distinctly fascistic. Not Hitler-esque, mind you, but troublesome all the same. If you oppose President Bush, wouldn’t it be better to listen to him, and then explain why you disagree?
One might expect such childish buffoonery from signers such as Ed Begley Jr. He was really great in Amazon Women on the Moon, but that doesn’t mean that we are inclined to trust his political acumen. And it is nice to see that Mumia Abu-Jamal also signed on with the campaign; clearly, when he’s not busy killing police officers, he is deeply worried about the health of our great nation. How very sweet.
But Brother West? This fellow’s a professor at Princeton, for crying out loud. One might have thought that likening Bush to Hitler would seem a bit obtuse for his tastes. After all, that’s kind of like likening Brother West to Buckwheat.
And, as anyone knows, that comparison’s inapt: Buckwheat was intentionally funny, whereas Brother West is only unintentionally funny.
We must admit a certain similarity in hairstyles, though.
December 12, 2005
The Office Gossip
We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” don’t tend to dilate on the work environment here at our Official Headquarters. And, quite frankly, there’s a reason for this: What’s so darned interesting about an office full of well over 250 editors and interns, each neatly tucked in his own velour cubicle? We couldn’t think of anything, either.
In today’s humble “post,” however, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” decided finally to discuss an aspect of the lifestyle here at the ole’ Headquarters that we firmly believe warrants mention. For those of you strangely incapable of reading the title of today’s humble “post,” we mean our resident office gossip.
It seems as if every workplace is home to such a chatterbox, and she ineluctably has a body shaped like the Liberty Bell. This, of course, ensures that she isn’t going to be the subject of much tittle-tattle herself—unless you count getting into your pants with a crane tittle-tattle. And we collectively don’t.
A few weeks ago, dear reader, the deep-pocketed financial backers here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” gave us the official green light to hire yet another secretary. (Apparently, our deep-pocketed financial backers have extra-deep pockets of late; perhaps it has something to do with a transaction of blood for oil. That really enriched their coffers.)
Anyway, after a scorching series of oral interviews (if you do or do not catch our drift), we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” picked a woman named Winnie as the woman for the job. To be honest, we had to go against our collective better judgment on this one: We’ve always thought that a proper secretary should be named Flo. But, as no one fitting that nomenclature applied, we were stuck with the equine-sounding Winnie instead.
At first, Winnie proved to be a marvelous hire. She did everything one could reasonably expect of an office manager. There was a sufficient stock of erasers and push-pins at the Headquarters, which ensured that the staff could make all the “push-pin pigs” it desired. It was, in short, a little slice of heaven.
And yet, and yet, and yet. Apparently, this Winnie woman—who seemed so delightful at first—turns out to be quite a pill. Although seemingly congenitally genial, our pal Winnie has a penchant for office gossip.
We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must inform you that our Official Headquarters isn’t exactly a prime locale to get a little dirt. After all, what kind of buzz do you expect to hear about an office whose employees all appear to be named “Chip”? Not much, we hope.
Still, Winnie kept prying. She gleefully spread the rumor that one of the senior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—has a little thing for a youngish intern—let’s just call her “Chip.” To our intrepid secretary, this was a real scandal. It’s kind of like Tom Cruise being a diminutive homosexual.
We mean, come on: What reasonable fellow actually thinks to himself “I don’t want to date women when they are young and attractive, I want ugly, dilapidated ladies instead. That way, we can chat about all kinds of scintillating things, such as the first time she got genital warts”?
Frankly, dear reader, if you ask us—and we know that, technically speaking, you didn’t—good ole’ Winnie’s going to have to come up with a better scoop than that. As it is, Winnie’s gossip is less impressive than an elocution lesson from Magic Johnson. It’s less impressive than Pauly Shore’s career. And that, friends, is saying something.
December 09, 2005
Just Look at What We’ve Become
As we have mentioned umpteen times, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are up for the glorious title of Best Humor/Comics Weblog in the 2005 Weblog Awards. And, as we have also mentioned umpteen times, it ain’t exactly a dogfight. Currently, we’re less popular than the guy who opposed Saddam Hussein the election before Ted Kennedy’s Coalition of the Bribed deposed the Butcher of Baghdad.
What’s even worse, dear reader, is the sorry fact that this minor e-notoreity—fleeting as it ineluctably is—has brought out the worst in us. Our humble “posts”—humble as they ineluctably are—have become mired in obsessive navel-gazing, as if “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” were the most important thing on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web.
Naturally, dear reader, this is quite unfortunate. The Weblog Awards have allowed us, like Cyndi Lauper, to show our true colors, and, like Cyndi Lauper’s, they aren’t that good. Pretty soon we’ll be compelled to call in Captain Lou Albano to save our sinking moral ship.
And, to add fuel to our pathetic egotism, we have discovered that we’ve recently received our 100,000th “hit.” As if we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” required another reason for a pitiful exercise in self-celebration.
Sad, isn’t it? It’s even sadder, given that our nomination in the Weblog Awards has led us to be trounced in a way with which only Lyndon LaRouche can properly empathize. Or perhaps Ashlee Simpson. Moreover, 100,000 “hits” isn’t that impressive an e-mark. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are pretty certain that Tina Turner has had more than 100,000 hits (in more ways than one). And she, like a big wheel, keeps on turnin’.
So, dear reader, we have decided that we yearn to ditch our pitiable e-narcissism. Eschewing our recent access of self-puffery, we have determined to get down to proverbial brass tacks. We pine to use our considerable e-powers for good, not evil. In short, we aim to help people.
But how could we do it? As William Shakespeare and Mickey Rourke would say (albeit in different contexts): Ay, there’s the rub.
How about selflessly endorsing a few other wonderful “weblogs” for the 2005 Weblog Awards? Granted, that isn’t exactly going to feed the starving children in fat camp. But, on the plus side, it won’t do any harm either, which is more than you can say for Kofi Annan.
Delighted by our idea, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” had a special, clandestine meeting, at which staffers offered their own suggestions for our official endorsements.
To be honest, it proved to be a more difficult endeavor than we had planned. A few staffers felt sufficiently attached to “weblogs” in the No One Reads Them or Even Gets This Far Down the Page To Vote for Them category to get a bit violent with dissenters. In fact, there were very few categories that didn’t inspire fisticuffs. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” take the Internet seriously, and the Best Australia or New Zealand Blog category brings out the wup-ass in many of us. (What, no Fiji this year?)
And so, dear reader, we were left with a few tepid endorsements. They are as follows:
Best New Blog: Wuzzadem. Hands down! Come on, that guy’s a genius.
Best Conservative Blog: The Jawa Report. Just because Dr. Rusty won’t vote for himself doesn’t mean that we can’t vote for him.
Best Culture/Gossip Blog: The Llamabutchers. Frankly, we didn’t know a thing about culture or gossip until we started reading Steve and Robbo’s musings. Now we are experts in German expressionism, and we’re well aware that Britney Spears' marriage, like a James Bond double bourbon, is on the rocks.
Best Military Blog: Froggy Ruminations. We can’t get enough of froggy.
Best Canadian Blog: The Crazy Rants of Samantha Burns. So good, we didn’t even realize she’s Canadian. Now that’s an endorsement.
Best of the Top 501-1000 Blogs: Vince aut Morire. Excellent use of the passive imperative.
Best of the Top 1751-2500 Blogs: 21st Century Paladin. Because the 20th Century Paladin is so last century.
December 07, 2005
You Fortune Is Bright
Right around the corner from “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” Headquarters is a delightful Chinese food establishment called “Panda Food,” “Eat the Panda,” “Devouring Panda,” or some such. Every once in a great while—well, every once in a week, if you must know—a few members of our staff grab their lunches at this eatery, and shovel it in before the afternoon deadlines.
Unfortunately, we must report that the food at this local restaurant is well nigh inedible. The cuisine is about as authentically Chinese as Denzel Washington. No matter what you order, it ends up feeling as if you ate a heaping helping of “Disagreeing with Your Stomach” instead. If General Tsao would find out what they have done to his chicken, he’d be deeply upset.
You may be wondering, dear reader, why any staffers would take themselves to such a miserable establishment. Well, the best rationale we can come up with is: We forget on occasion. Although we ineluctably regret every meal we consume from this horrid place, it appears as if the recollection of this regret only lasts about a week. So, when, say, next Thursday rolls around, you can bet that a couple of junior and senior staffers will head to “Panda Snacks”—and spend an unfortunate afternoon on the toilet.
Yet we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” don’t want to spend today’s “post” complaining about the un-comestible victuals at this dive. Rather, we aim to spend today’s “post” complaining about the ridiculous fortunes we have received in recent fortune cookies. That, we figure, is a much classier topic of conversation.
After all, even an execrable Chinese food outfit such as “The Edible Panda” has the typical fortune cookies. They’re the one part of the meal even they can’t screw up.
And yet, as one of the junior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—discovered, the folks at “Kill the Panda” can even ruin a perfectly good fortune cookie.
Don’t believe us, dear reader? Well, then take a gander at this odd fortune found in “Chip’s” latest cookie: “Opportunity always ahead if you look and think.”
Uh, that’s not even a sentence. And it’s not a fortune, either. Frankly, it doesn’t even make that much sense. If you ask us, the people at the fortune cookie factory are coasting. When we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” break open a fortune cookie, we want to see something like “You will murder your second cousin on your father’s side,” or “You won’t be the next Billy Joel.”
You know: Real fortunes. None of this preachy “You should appreciate life/A man with a friend is a happy man” garbage. If we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” wanted hackneyed, ungrammatical bromides about the essential goodness of life, we’d watch Dr. Phil.
December 06, 2005
“The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” Internet Equivalent of the Orrin Hatch for President Campaign
As we have already mentioned at length, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have been sufficiently fortunate to be an official finalist in the Best Humor/Comics Blog category in the 2005 Weblog Awards. Naturally, then, we’ve exhorted our colossal readership to vote once per diem for our humble “website,” as the contest rules allow.
Dutiful devotees of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” may have noted that it took exactly three seconds for this whole nomination business to go to our collective head. A few of our colossal readers may recall that, last year, upon being nominated for jack-bone nothing, we made light of the whole awards business. It’s a moronic, subjective waste of time, we sniffed.
Now, however, we’ve become a bunch of self-promoting lamebrains. We’re like the Internet’s Omorosa. (Except we have better bone structure, and aren’t as mannish.) What a difference a year makes!
All the same, there are certainly limits to our pathetic Weblog Awards egotism. After all, a quick perusal of the current vote tally demonstrates that we’re about as popular as the Orrin Hatch for President campaign—you know, that ill-starred stab at the limelight that yielded about one percent in Iowa. And, unlike Hatch, we can’t complain that our popularity is hampered by any spirit of renegade Mormonism.
To be honest, we look a little bit like a Pop Warner football team taking on the Indianapolis Colts. Or, come to think, a bit like the Houston Texans taking on the Indianapolis Colts.
As such, dear reader, we must again humbly exhort you to plump for us each day. Not, we daresay, so that we shall wind up in the e-victor’s circle, drinking e-milk. Rather, so that we aren’t smacked down like Richard Simmons taking on Attila the Hun. Currently, our vote total is so low it appears as if our own mothers have cast their ballots for Six Meat Buffet.
In the coming days, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” shall offer our official endorsements of other Weblog Award finalists. Given our impressive vote total, we’re certain that manifold “webloggers” are waiting with bated breath for our prestigious endorsement. It’s much like David Duke backing your political campaign: Alert the local media!
Many of our longtime readers are undoubtedly wondering “Will coming in dead last in such a contest affect the rapier wit of the crack young staff?” Or words to that effect.
The answer, we are pleased to pronounce, is a definite No. We were unfunny before the Weblog Awards, and we’ve got plenty of time to be unfunny afterward.
In the meantime, we’ll be crafting our magnanimous acceptance speech. Just because we’re about as popular as the Christian Falangist Party doesn’t mean we can’t start polishing up our rhetorical fireworks.
December 05, 2005
When Is a Mistake Not a Mistake?
Dutiful devotees of this humble “weblog” undoubtedly recognize that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” enjoy ridiculing The New York Times on many an occasion. It seems, in fact, that any time the Paper of Record makes the slightest mistake, or displays the slightest inkling of partisan hackery, we greatly esteem heaping scorn upon it.
Nor, we have noted, are we the only ones who have taken to criticizing the Gray Lady. Perhaps you didn’t realize this, but there’s a veritable cottage industry of anti-Times criticism. Who would have thunk it?
And it is not confined to our friends on the political Right. The loveably deranged scamps over at radical Left outfits such as The Nation take great pride in disparaging the Gray Lady for inadvertently championing capitalism, or some such grave offense against all things “progressive.”
Frankly, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are close to fed up with all this anti-Times nattering and criticizing. Sure, the Paper of Record has committed its share of sins in the past. But who—other than Jim Bakker—hasn’t?
In addition, it’s not as if running America’s most storied daily is an easy task. Believe us: We tried it for a few weeks. It was a real bitch. That Frank Rich never meets his deadlines.
In order to counter this ferocious spirit of attack against the Times, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have decided to dedicate today’s humble “post” to demonstrating this wonderful rag’s essential goodness. In fact, we shall demonstrate that sometimes, even when the Gray Lady admits its own errors, it has not actually committed an error in the first place.
Allow us to offer a modicum of proof. In the December 1st number of this storied paper, the following appeared in the oddly titled “Corrections: For the Record” section:
Because of an editing error, a sports article on Sunday about the stability of the Seattle Seahawks organization misstated the last time a pro team from that city won a title. It was 2004, when the Storm won the Women’s National Basketball Association championship, not 1979, when the SuperSonics won the N.B.A. title.
To us, dear reader, if that’s a mistake, it’s the most forgivable mistake we’ve heard of in a long, long time. We mean, come on: What self-respecting non-lesbian has ever heard of the Seattle Storm? Actually, what self-respecting lesbian has ever heard of the Seattle Storm? Until we took a gander at this tepid nostra culpa, we would have thought that the Seattle Storm was some defunct XFL outfit.
Perhaps the editorial department at the Gray Lady also forgot some other unforgettable highlights in Seattle professional athletics:
(1) The Seattle Mist’s stunning victory in the national 1994 three-legged dogsled race.
(2) The first-place award won by local Seattle native Noel Tooky in the 1980 installment of the “Get Away From Mt. St. Helens Race.”
(3) The Seattle Grunge’s surprise upset of the Arizona Turkeys in the 1985 beach volleyball and tailoring tournament.
We fully expect to see the Gray Lady apologize for these lapses in a future version of its peculiarly titled “Corrections: For the Record” section.
So, allow us to say something for the record: No reasonable human being would be upset by the suggestion that the 1979 SuperSonics were the last professional team from Seattle to win a title, Seattle Storm accomplishments notwithstanding. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” simply want to know who informed the staff of the Times of its supposed gaffe. We bet she’s a real piece of work.
December 02, 2005
The Indignities of Keeping Fit
We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have dedicated a few of our humble “posts” to expatiating on the various irritants one encounters when attempting to do one’s body a little good. If we recall correctly, dear reader, we made a particular fuss about a phenomenon we labeled “posterior penmanship,” which is often displayed at the local gymnasium.
Yet we feel as if we have not exhausted the full list of vexations associated with the world of “working out.” In fact, this became crystal clear to one of our senior editors—let’s just call him “Chip”—who spends many moons getting fitter than a fiddle.
A few days ago, “Chip” headed to his small local gym, at an hour that was far from popular with those who are not toothless derelicts. Having arrived at said facility, he was immediately greeted by the typical bothers: The staff at said gym—even at this ungodly hour in the morning—was playing the typical work-out fare, rock that is ironically labeled “classic.”
As if this were not enough (and believe us, it was), “Chip” became even more enraged upon taking a gander at the only other current patron in the gymnasium. This was a woman on a treadmill, who was huffing and puffing away on a brisk stroll of sorts. Dripping with sweat, this gal was certainly no less than 200 pounds, and was clad—horror of horrors!—in spandex leggings and a tube top.
Okay, so it wasn’t the most delightful scene to take in early in the morning, but it was nice to see an overweight woman bettering herself by getting off the couch and working off those extra calories. In fact, “Chip” was much happier that the wearer of this inappropriate outfit was a heavy lady, rather than the fit, buxom show-offs who regularly enjoy prancing around in such things. At least she wasn’t trying to make “Chip” jealous. (Or, if she was, it wasn’t working—much.)
So, you may be asking yourself, what’s so darned troublesome about this woman? Why did we find her such a horrid complement to the Loverboy “music” playing in the background?
Well, the answer to that query can be found in the television program to which she was tuned whilst hopping away on her treadmill. This heavy gal—who deserved a prize for making an effort to be fit—was tuned in to the Food Network. To make matters worse, said network was airing a program about fattening desserts, which appears to have captivated this particular female treadmiller.
Admittedly, this isn’t exactly a grave sin; rather, it’s a mere peccadillo. But it irked “Chip” nonetheless. Never mind the fact that this was a ridiculously silly thing to watch on any occasion. There appeared to be something mildly ironic about a fat broad chugging away on a treadmill whilst salivating over a recipe for fried ice cream.
We mean, come on: What kind of dedication does that demonstrate? As far as we could tell, this lady was going to complete her workout and then gorge herself on angel food cake.
Naturally, “Chip” changed the channel: He wanted to inspire her to do better. We hope she liked that episode of “Ally McBeal” instead.
December 01, 2005
Spelunking through Oppression
As even casual observers of American academia well know, freedom of thought is a cardinal virtue in the hallowed halls of the ivory tower. In order to ensure that its faculty members and students devote themselves to the disinterested pursuit of knowledge, a given university does its best to ensure that it fosters an intellectual climate welcoming to a rich array of perspectives.
And what better way to welcome a rich array of perspectives than force-feed incoming students with rebarbative “orientation sessions” designed to compel them to adopt a radical worldview? If you are a college administrator, your answer to that question should be “There is no better way.” Or words to that effect.
We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” had reason to reflect on this anew when we received a kindly e-missive from one of our readers, which pointed us in the direction of the “Tunnel of Oppression.” Although said Tunnel was briefly featured on Charles Johnson’s luminous Little Green Footballs “weblog,” we found it so delightfully offensive that we deigned to discuss it at greater length.
What, you may or may not be asking yourself, is a “Tunnel of Oppression”? And what the heck does it have to do with American academia? Those are darned good queries. Why don’t we let the progenitors of this Tunnel tell us in their own inimitable prose?
Since its original debut in the mid-1990s, the Tunnel of Oppression has become a nationally recognized program offered at a number of college campuses including The Ohio State University, the University of Wisconsin at Eau Claire, and The University of Nevada at Las Vegas.
Well, gee: If it’s good enough for an academic powerhouse like UNLV, it should be good enough for us, eh? Not only can UNLV students get a degree in casino management, they can experience a Tunnel of Oppression as well. What dedication to the liberal arts!
Some campuses use it as an element of diversity training within the residence halls while others have fully incorporated the idea into their campus programming efforts. Campuses have implemented the program in various ways, incorporated various themes, and have realized varying levels of success. Following the interactive portion of the Tunnel, many campuses offer students an outlet for processing the activity including panel discussions with faculty and staff members.
We know what you are thinking, dear reader: If the genius prose stylists who wrote this palaver are in charge of the Tunnel of Oppression program, you desperately hope your child is compelled to undergo their hazing at his school. After all, what says good times quite like a Tunnel of Oppression? We couldn’t think of anything either.
But what does the program entail? What is this Tunnel of Fun? Our e-brochure continues:
As part of the program, participants are led through museum style series of connected rooms which each ask the participants to experience various forms of oppression. Participants are challenged to consider how oppression and advantages have an effect on them, as well as the individuals and groups around them.
This year’s themes include:
(1) Tools of Oppression
(2) Women’s Issues
(3) Racial Oppression
(4) LGBT Issues
(5) Religious Oppression ***this room is pending***.
Sounds like a blast, doesn’t it? Personally, we can’t wait to learn what Tools of Oppression are. Can they be purchased at the local Home Depot? Or, given its shady treatment of employees, does Wal-Mart alone stock them?
We found it particularly delicious that the “Religious Oppression” train-car is still “pending.” Do the eminences behind the Tunnel of Oppression disagree about the nature of religious oppression? Do some of them believe that such an issue doesn’t deserve their ham-fisted treatment—even if the Religious Oppression room is merely the caboose?
Naturally, we are quite certain that said Religious Oppression train-car won’t feature the anti-Christian bigotry espoused by countless “diversity” training commissars. That’s not the kind of oppression they have in mind.
And this leads us to a question for the brilliant boosters of the Tunnel of Oppression. Why not have a “Radical Indoctrinators Oppression” train-car? Surely the students, after passing through the moronic Tunnel of Oppression, are going to realize that the only real oppression they’ve experienced is that of the intolerant chuckleheads who sponsored this program in the first place.