Regarding Dick

Based on the above title, the reader might make three different assumptions regarding the topic of the following post. The first assumption might predict that this post is some kind of eulogy towards the male genitalia. Wrong, sorry to disappoint you Daltonius. And speaking of Daltonius, the second assumption one might make would be that this post is about that very man himself, for he is, in fact, a dick. Sadly, you'd be incorrect here as well. For more information on that subject, see previous posts.

The third assumption, that this post relates to our esteemed Vice-President, Dick Cheney, would be correct. As anyone not living under a rock must know, Dick
accidentally ejaculated a spray of seed, I mean, birdseed, I mean, um, bird shot, all over his lawyer friend Harry Wittington while hunting for tail, er, I mean, quail, in the land of Texas. I've satisfied my potty mouth quota for the next month. Well, day.

Anyways, the press was whipped into a frenzy over this matter. Comics were making fun left and right (but mostly left I'm sure). It seemed as though people who needed something bad to say about Cheney had just been thrown a bone and jumped all over it.

I don't agree with this man's politics. I'm a moderate and Cheney's way to far right for my tastes. I disagree with the administration's invasion of Iraq and several of their positions on social issues. But for Christsakes, the man made a mistake! These things happen, and while he may deserve some form of punishment among the hunting community, I think he deserves a little slack otherwise. Any of the slobs making fun of him could just have easily made that mistake. Furthermore, aside from the fact that hunting requires a gun, THIS INCIDENT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH POLITICS!

The accident that happened in that field is more a private issue than anything, though I agree it was a serious one. Yes, Cheney's high profile, and it's gonna get reported on no matter what. I accept that and don't mind. But please, a little sympathy.

While I'm going at it, let me share with you the mentality of some of the people that are taking this thing too far. In a segment of a school newspaper, students were asked, "Should Cheney have his hunting license revoked for shooting his hunting buddy?"

Here's one of the responses: "Yeah for sure. It's too bad he didn't kill the guy so he'd be on trial for murder. I didn't know you even needed a shotgun to hunt quail."

I for one am saddened by the fact that I go to school with this guy. Maybe Dick does or doesn't deserve to lose his license, I don't know enough about hunting to present a valid argument one way or the other. But the idea that it's too bad Wittington didn't die so Cheney could go to prison is incredibly asinine. Wait, so you're saying that you want to see someone die just so Cheney can be put out of office?

One of the major reasons people at this school don't like the Bush Administration is the war in Iraq. I'm sure this person is no exception, and you know I'm not. So, basically, while I assume this student believes Cheney should be out of office for all the dying in Iraq, he simultaneously wishes death on an innocent at the hands of the Vice President. Well, I see no blatant hypocrisies and/or mental retardation there!

Oh, and it's a well known fact that shotguns are used to hunt birds. Thank you for further proving your ignorance.

The One True Conspiracy Theory

Throughout time, humanity has searched for this ever elusive thing called "THE TRUTH," which comes in it's many diverse and mysterious forms. Some people seek a philosophical form of truth. They seek answers to such questions as, "Why are we here?" "Where are we going?" "What is Morality?" or, "Is there a God?"

Other individuals search for forms of truth that beg slightly different kinds of questions, questions like, "Who shot JFK?" "How do I join the Illuminati?" "What's hidden at Area 51?" "How can I keep government spy cameras out of my sock drawer?" "Is Batboy real?" "What is it about child molestation that Daltonius finds so amusing?"

These are questions that often require just as much convoluted thought and misguided mental energy to come up with as they do to answer. In fact, the answers to these questions are of such a unique nature that they've got their own special name. That's right folks, they're called conspiracy theories.

But where do conspiracy theories come from, you ask? Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much, but there's a whole bunch of overactive imagination and rampant paranoia involved, you can expect to find all kinds of little conspiracy theories running around the house sooner or later. For example, a rather famous conspiracy theory was born when JFK and Maralyn Monroe "loved each other" very much, then Monroe died under somewhat mysterious circumstances, and the rest is history.

Okay, enough of my bullshit. Look, there's only one true conspiracy theory in the universe and I happen to be the one who discovered it. Well, not really discovered. It's not like I conducted an intrepid investigation that spun me into a cyclone of government intrigue that lead "straight to the top." I think I thought of this when I was drunk. No matter. Not only is it the only true conspiracy theory, it also disproves all other conspiracy theories by it's own nature. Here it is:

Since the dawn of mankind, thousands of kings have been coronated and dethrowned, empires have risen and fallen, and governments have formed and disbanded.

Throughout all this shifting of power, only one constant has endured: A small yet incredibly powerful underground secret society known as the Conspiratorium. Don't blame me for the name, I didn't come up with it.

Now, at this point many of you are probably groaning and rolling your eyes. You're thinking, "Not another secret society of all-powerful men-in-black." Let me finish, jerk. This is different.

The Conspiratorium has, throughout all of known history, served one purpose, and that purpose involves the fabrication of every conspiracy ever known.

Let me back up. First of all, why does this secret society exist and serve this purpose? Well, one reason lies in the fact that leadership has on many frequent occasions been really shitty. Whenever citizens see their government screwing up, they need something to increase their confidence in said government. People don't want to think that their leaders are a bunch of blithering dumbasses, and those same leaders don't want their people to think they'd be pushovers if a revolution occured. So, if the government in question falls in favor of the Conspiratorium, this mysterious underground establishment kicks into gear and does what it does best: makes up a conspiracy and spreads it far and wide.

A good conspiracy leads to postulation left and right among the gentry regarding what dark and forboding things are going on in the "black government," that is, the government of incredibly secretive geniouses supposedly veiled by the mask of incompitence we see in our "publicized" leaders. A good conspiracy makes everyone think that while outwardly our leaders appear to be a bunch of bumbling bozos, one only has to look behind the curtain to find that there's something much deeper and more sophisticated going on, when in fact there isn't. Everything from flouride in our drinking water, to the assasination of JFK, to spy rockets in flight (afternoon delight), becomes proof that there is much more going on behind the scenes. In actuality, none of that's true, and the real conspiracy lies embedded in the fact that we've been tricked into considering the existence of any conspiracy at all. And most ironically, those who believe these conspiracies and think they have everything figured out are in fact among the most duped of individuals. While they may consider themselves enlightened with priviliged information, all they've actually done is rationalized an irrational fear of their government.

For those of you seeking the truth, here it is: pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, because there is none. There is, however, the Conspiratorium, feeding a rumor to a tabloid writer, or giving a lead to a reporter who needs a big story, and setting up a trail of flimsy yet compelling evidence all inevitably leading to some government official vehemently denying an alien landing at Roswell or a shot from the grassy knoll.

Daltonius' Mohammed Musings

In his latest act of digital defecation, Daltonius has portrayed his insight regarding this whole fiasco over that dumb Mohammed cartoon. In his post, he enlightens us with this little gem: "I can type Fuck, shit, cock, balls, and cunt, just to name a few."

Congratulations Daltonius, you're a big boy now! Be sure to put that in your resume.

But in all seriousness, and you can clearly see that's what I'm all about, this whole issue is centered around belief. The Muslims who are partaking in all this rioting believe that it's a sin to portray the prophet Mohammed in any physical form to prevent idol warship. Okay, that's fine. Go ahead and be angry over what was done. I'm willing to consider the fact that if I were brought up Muslim, I'd be upset too, but as fate would have it, I wasn't.

Unfortunately, many of them also seem to believe that it's okay to go completely apeshit, destroying public property and endangering/ending lives over a cartoon. Well, since morality is purely objective, I believe this is wrong, and I don't care how you were brought up or what you were taught.

Perhaps someone might think that sounds closed minded. Let me emphasize that I respect their ability to believe what they're doing is right, in fact I respect their ability to believe anything. I respect their actual beliefs to such an extent that you won't see me trying to change them. This isn't just because I think it would be a somewhat abhorrent thing to do, but also because I think it would be impossible. But I also respect my own ability to think what they're doing is wrong. It's that simple: They think they're right, and I think they're wrong. So when property and lives are destroyed over a cartoon, I lose much of my sympathy for the people involved.

Interview with a Daltonius

Recently, I had the unique opportunity to interview my arch nemessis , Daltonius, at his place of residence, which happens to be a disused septic tank with a T1 line in Fresno.

Allow me to describe his living situation. It's big for a septic tank, probably because it used to be the final resting place for all the excrement produced at the local fair grounds. Now it's been abandoned in a cow pasture and emptied... mostly. A colony of brightly colored mold with a Daltonius shaped imprint presents itself as where he must bed down for the night. A large mound of petrified clown-stool, juxtaposed next to a lump of hardened remains that once must have been funnel cake, serve as a desk and chair. A laptop is perched quaintly on top of the shit-desk. Surely, I think to myself, this is where the magic happens. There's not much to be seen in the way of decoration, save for a pink lawn flamingo which he appears to have stabbed through a corroded portion of the tank's floor.

When I arrive, donned appropriately in my Haz-Mat suit, I find him preoccupied.

Olivonius: Uh, hello Daltonius, thanks for having me today, what... exactly are you trying to do here?

Daltonius: Trying to catch flies between my butt cheeks. You know, like Mr. Miagi in The Karate Kid, remember?

O: Er, I don't think Mr. Miagi's fly trick involved his butt cheeks-

D: You know, Arthur, why don't you go suck a cock?

An awkward silence ensues while Daltonius stares at me unblinkingly, his petulant expression clearly one of a man who licks the walls of his "humble abode" for nutrients.

O: Arthur? Who's Arth-

D: SHUT UP! GOD! You're Arthur!

O: What? I...

D: Arthur, you know, that fucking anteater kid in the books we read in gradeschool. The one with the huge glasses that took up half his face. God, what a pussy. Always bitching about something. I'm calling you Arthur because you remind me of him.

O: I see. Mind if I ask you a few questions?

D: Fine, God, whatever. Shoot.

O: What do you do when you're not blogging it up? Everyone wants to know what Daltonius does in his free time.

D: I mostly read CNN and molest this plastic flamingo. If I'm feeling like living it up, I run a Google search for jokes about child molestation. Vans+Candy and Puppies=Hilarious!

O: Interesting. Has anyone ever-

D: Go suck a cock, by the way.

O: I believe we already covered that.

D: Whatever, I hate you. Freaking midget.

I observe at this point that Daltonius is three inches taller than me. I decide to resume the interview as though this rich exchange has never happened.

O: Has anyone ever told you you're the spitting image of Al Bundy, except with a worse attitude and covered in year old carnival feces?

D: Has anyone ever told you to go suck a cock?

O: As a matter of fact-

D: Go suck a cock.

I realize that I've come as far as I could ever have hoped, and decide to rap up the interview.

O: It's been a pleasure talking to you. Let's do this again real soon.

D: Fine. You're gay. Bye.

I turn to leave and step outside. Just before I step out of earshot, I hear him offering "free refills" to the plastic pink flamingo. I don't understand, but then again, I realize that I really don't want to.

Daltonius Contains the Most Wretched of Fecal Matter

I find the opinions of fellow blogger Daltonius to be of a nature best described as shallow, pedantic, and facetious. Just look at his last two posts. Clearly, all he did was convert his own feces into a digital stream of zeros and ones, then cut and pasted it into his blog. I don't even want to talk about the other things he "converts" his feces into, suffice it to say, don't ever accept any of his "homemade fudge."

How can Daltonius rail on Hillary C. like that? Come on, man. She stayed with Bill even though he was getting extracurricular B.J's. You've gotta give her credit for that. I for one know that Daltonius is very jealous about that sort of thing.

Additionally, Daltonius has totally misinterpretted the nature of what he refers to as the "Military Protests" that were occuring on campus last Winter. I ask you, Daltonius... What kind of protest involves lesbians making out in public? A damn sexy one, that's what. But in all seriousness, if there's any reason why those recruiters keep coming back to UCSC, that's probably it: free live girl on girl action. Unfortunately, Daltonius cowers at the sight, sound, or touch of a female, so it's understandable that the "protests" would leave a chip on his shoulder.

PS: My name's not Arthur, Daltonius.