Showing posts with label The Hoff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Hoff. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

WDR Election Day Craptacular!


That's right kids, it's that one day a year that truly marks us as citizens of these glorious United States, Election Day. (Well, today and Tax Day, but who wants to remember a day in which you unwillingly give money away (unless you're me, who's getting a nice fat check from the government this year--perhaps it will even reach into the triple digits! That'll get me my fair share of penguin bongs)). To the more idealistically inclined, it's a day where we swear to uphold our duty to the principles of democracy, and for a brief moment put the destiny of our nation into our hands. Of course, to the cynical and opportunity-costed mind, it's nothing more than a waste of time. And to the conspiracy-minded (which, according to our latest research, makes up 92.4% of our blog's populace), it's just another confirmation that we've sold our souls for the illusion of control, when in essence we have none. And for the majority of the population, it's a Tuesday that has shitty weather.

Since it's one of those off-years, there's not much up for debate this year. Most people are the President-or-go-home crowd, and with not even a congressional seat to decide, we're left with ballot measures here in Oregon. Because we don't trust our legislators, we have a ridiculously easy system that puts various cock-eyed measures up for direct vote, and then when it comes time to vote for them, we bitch and moan that the legislators in Salem aren't doing their job and that we're doing their work for them. If you haven't figured it out already, Oregonians are good at two things: indie rock and fucking complaining.



At least Oregon has one thing going for them when it comes to the democratic process, and that is its vote-by-mail system. The number one complaint that people have about the national election process has to do with the inconvenience of voting, in terms of both times and location. There's no such problem in Oregon, where we have about two weeks to decide on how to vote, and can mail or drop off our ballots at our convenience. In fact, during the writing of this blog, I just dropped off my ballot. Plus, you keep a paper trail and avoid other problems associated with electronic voting, though I'll defer to others to argue the merits of this point (that means that Hal the Holiday Armadillo better make an appearance in the comments section). The only downside that I can find is that I never get the privilege of confining myself to a tiny voting booth, and re-enacting the scene from "Black Sheep" where Chris Farley single-handedly destroys a polling scene.

So what are we democatizing this year? Here are the issues:

Measure 49: A few years back, Oregon voted on a similar issue with Measure 37, whose defined purpose had something to do with restoring property rights, which involved compensation for when the government fucked over your property by enacting some sort of zoning restriction or another (honestly, my eyes roll back into my skull when people talk about zoning). That all seemed fine and dandy, because apparently we all saw commercials that showed Ida and Hank and their family farm, and how they had relied on being able to sell the property for developers to make a couple of houses but were now unable to do so. Apparently this loss of income resulted in them living in a Nicaraguan nursing home. Instead, we ended up with a measure in which people could file multi-multi-multi-million dollar claims of potential lost income because the government would not allow them to develop a turd mine on their property. So we have 49, which attempts to split the difference between Grandma Ida and Turd Miner Johann.

There's something to be said about property rights--I mean, after all, who is the expert on everything about my property, from the scientific to the aesthetic, than my uneducated ass? However, I don't want to get into my problems with full-blown libertarianism here (the fad political affiliation of the young and retarded), so I'm going to stop typing.


Measure 50: This measure is essentially a state-level version of the federal S-CHIP bill, where our President, Dummy McChimp, made one of his great principled stands and busted out the veto pen for the third time, because sick kids are nobody else's problems but their own. This particular measure puts a tax on cigarettes (and cigars), with the money then going to kids health programs, rural health programs, and anti-smoking campaigns. There is something to be said about the constant gang-raping of the rights of smokers in this country, especially when compared to those who engage in other "sins". There is also something to be said that this is the only resort we have when we need to raise taxes.

The argument against the bill states that it is unfair to burden one small segment of the population for the cost of providing a benefit to others. Unfortunately, that's exactly what we do when we do things like tax the rich. And the fact that treatment for lung cancer and other smoking-related illnesses put an undue burden on the health-care system are avoided by the opponents of this measure as well. Then again, obesity-related illnesses not only put a strain as well, but they are also a national security risk! Tax the Mars Bar!

But in the end, what got me was the ads. It's one thing to be pummeled by them at all hours--who wants to deal with politics when you're watching TMZ (not me, but then again, I don't subject myself to the War Crime that is TMZ)? But it's another thing to be subjected to such atrocious acting. Dammit, RJ Reynolds, couldn't you hire somebody with experience beyond community theater?



Yeah, so now you can see how this Election Day was depressing, even for government wonks like me. Let's just get drunk and play Hungry-Hungry-Hippos!

Monday, July 16, 2007

A Series of Texts

This is what happens when FOX decides that it's better to show one of the worst sequels of all time (the incredibly pointless The Lost World) instead of their Sunday Night lineup. You have me passed out on the couch randomly texting my friends about who-knows-what.

(And yes, I have railed against texting before as utterly pointless, but I have found that sometimes a random declarative statement in the right context is utterly sublime, especially if one cannot take the 5 seconds to make an actual phone call).

Nic Ouzo (to all): The Lost World?! You piss me off, Fox!
Mr. Zhuang: Hehe

Von Bookman: I need to learn swedish
Nic Ouzo: Explain?



Nic Ouzo (to all): Andy rooney is insane. Babbling about watches...
Joe Reefer: You could've just said 'andy rooney is talking'...
Nic Ouzo: I know, but specifics were funny

Von Bookman: I'm sick of being on ella youtube pages and not understanding what is being said.
Nic Ouzo: I did not know of her massive Swedish fanbase. I would have guessed Mongolians.

The "ella" in question is Ella Fitzgerald

Joe Reefer
: Racism is uncalled for
Nic Ouzo: So's your face.
Joe Reefer: The arch duke is not at the table for this discussion
Nic Ouzo: Well pass it on, Cottonballs.

Joe Reefer's Face is a separate entity known as the Archduke. It has been assassinated on numerous occasions, most notably in 1914 when it started WWI. Cottonballs is just a funny name I heard on the Demetri Martin album

Von Bookman: She was clearly the david hasselhoff of nordic europe.
Nic Ouzo: Does Norm MacDonald have a theory?



Joe Reefer:...I don't know how to feel just now
Nic Ouzo: Feel like a walrus.
Joe Reefer: If you are indeed comparing me to john lennon, i approve
Nic Ouzo: I am comparing you to a sea monster. Maybe groundhog would have been better.
Joe Reefer: Every dog has its day, and every hog has its way, but every groundhog has Groundhog's Day and i guess that's alright

Nic Ouzo (to Joe and Mr. Zhuang): Chris Martin is one ugly bastard in the Yellow video.

Nic Ouzo
(to Joe and Mr. Zhuang): Tesla? Damn you, Tube!

It was that damn hippie song, "Signs"--sign sign, everywhere a sign (crammit, hippie), and it was acoustic. Good God



Nic Ouzo: Alright, I dub thee CRAPWEASEL.
Nic Ouzo: or EMU
Joe Reefer: Damn. I was shooting for Holiday Armadillo
Nic Ouzo: That's Hal.
Joe Reefer: Touche.

Hal IS the Holiday Armadillo. Trust us.

Nic Ouzo: Oh yeah, apparently Sea Cow needs another year at U of O
Joe Reefer: Well, when i talked to him he said he was majoring in math, chemistry, and physics...If that's true then i can't blame him. But in the likely chance tha
Joe Reefer: t he was making things up i must laugh
Nic Ouzo: I saw that, but it's still stupid. Pick a minor. Not gonna contribute anything, anyways
Joe Reefer: Yeah, chemistry is a subset of physics anyway. Between that and math, chemistry should be implied and a degree would be redundant.
Nic Ouzo: My thoughts

I wasn't going to get into a discussion about the merits of chemistry and physics. Fuck that, I wanted a Fudgsicle.



Well that sure was enjoyable. Oh, can you imagine the lunacy of hanging out with these people 24/7? It would be a riot! Ha HA! Take that, Laugh-In!