A Modest Proposal: Let’s Kill All the Koreans and Sell Them As Pet Food to the Chinese

Now I know what everyone is thinking: Great, there’s 32 dead American’s at Virginia Tech now because of some crazy Korean guy, but now, who do I blame it on and where do I transfer all of my lovely hate into something completely negative? Of course there is the usual suspects with the corresponding solutions: Godlessness cured with Bibles under everyone’s asses, foreigners who smell and look funny solved by mass deportations, hippity-hoppity and black culture in general solved by long trousers and correct grammar, violent video games and TV shows smothered with chastity belts and friendly games of UNO, guns and the monkeys who shoot and sell them, and of course Muslims, always the Muslims with their damn Moo-ham-eed and their damn praying. The summation is pretty simple: in a world of instant punditry, not much long term thought goes into proposed policy change when it hinges on knee jerk reactions. And this is where I step in, link-free and full of the most intelligent thinking 48 hours of hindsight can provide:

Let’s kill Koreans, bathe in their blood, and sell them to the Chinese as dog food.

Now, I know your immediate reaction will be all stifled by politically ‘correct’ thinking. ‘Oh that’s so insensitive, you know all they eat is dog meat and Pokemon soup’ — well you’re wrong, they also eat lots of cabbage and I’m guessing calculators. But think about this in the long term: what if there is another Korean anomaly (the first sign should have been that he wasn’t studying computer science or math) who decides he wants to write crazy plays and then act out his crazy plays by shooting beautiful white children in the face? Do you want to have that blood on your hand, because you, dear reader, were held back by a bunch of outdated liberal ideas of ‘integration’, ‘assimilation’, and ‘freedom from being killed and served to the Chinese as dog food’? No, you don’t want that blood on your hand, because American blood is like holy water and it will sting the nostrils and heart from the stench of spilled freedom. And Jesus WILL make your next child a homosexual if you disobey him and I will not allow him or his domestic partner equal access to health care because I’m uncomfortable with the idea of a penis in a butthole!

Onto the logistics. First you may wonder, how will we deal with all the 2 million Koreans in the United States who provide us valuable services such as laundry mats, convenience stores, laundry mats with adjacent/adjoining convenience stores, and Chinese restaurants. As Michelle Malkin would think, we would have to round them up first. What we could offer is a national Pokemon and Dance Dance Revolution competition, at which point we would subdue all 2 million with free Nintendo DS’es and abacuses.

Then it’s off to the meat factory! But why would we sell Koreans as pet food to the Chinese? Well, its simple really: the Chinese screwed us with their polluted and poisoned pet food, killing off millions of dependents for untold millions of American spinsters and freaks, so we’re going to pay them back the only way we know how. With pet food made of dead Koreans.

Of course, there’s a lot of holes in this idea, and I welcome you, WELL-INFORMED AMERICAN JOE PUBLIC, to help me fill in the gaps. And by the way, thanks to all like me who’ve kept a cool head through all of this, because nothing says rational like comparing your tragedy to 9/11.

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You’re a Douchebag

douchebag

So I’m checking out the latest features from style.com via RSS when an interesting one comes through proclaiming: You’re a douchebag. Sounds interesting, a lil low-end chuckle. Until they describe me essentially to the letter:

Iā€™m waiting for a friend at a wine bar and I see that the guy a couple of stools down from me keeps ostentatiously checking the late-model smartphone that lies before him on the granite countertop. He has the all-black Samsung BlackJack, which happens to be the coolest-looking smartphone there isā€”at least until the iPhone comes outā€”and heā€™s wearing jeans that look like they cost $400, and his haircut was probably half that. I also notice that heā€™s got an expensive- looking European leather briefcase at his feet that he no doubt calls an attachĆ©.

So I skim that article thoughtfully learning about the douchebag culture of which I’ve apparently joined, when I discover something even more unusual near the end:
Continue Reading

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Blogging & Crying

One week away from computers and I feel disorganized, detached, and unsure of the world ahead. How am I supposed to know what to think and feel if I don’t have the constant stream of blog diarrhea pouring its wisdom directly into the ol’ medulla oblongata.

Thankfully, I’m back and blacker than ever. It was April Fool’s day, and hopefully you noticed some ultra-disturbing images and thoughts canvasing PBH (more so than usual). The most important being, of course, Portrait of a Young Man as a Republican. Now, I’m not one to judge people, but this Matt Sanchez guy is too much. If you don’t remember, he was the conservative boy hero honored at CPAC, only to be later revealed he was formerly a gay porn star. Yes, a gay porn star honored in the bowels of a conservative political conference. And if this wasn’t enough, he apparently also conned donors of $10k to support his deployment to Iraq. I’m thinking he probably brought some tear sheets featuring him doing the nastiest homosexual doggy style a man could dream of, just to, you know, bring some wonderful American culture to Iraq.

In other farcical worlds, we had the privilege of watching soulless McCain v2.0 ‘walk casually‘ through an Iraqi market. Afterwards, he proclaimed that Iraq was safe for all and that real progress was being made. But how is your mark of progress a heavily guarded photo-op at a site attacked only 30 minutes after he left? Only if you’re John McCain, too busy cozying up with the part of the Republican base that stomped your testicles in 2000 to realize no one cares or likes you anymore.

Other important artifacts of the blog world include an elaborate underground labyrinth to store delicious marijuana, 10 hot steamy facts about Einstein not including his moral shortfall of endorsing Zionism, see what a woman looks like with a lot of makeup (the serpent seducers way of preying on males), never ever believe a waiter who says restaurant, be disgusted by nerds, stop ruining our housing economy with your SUV’s, and when you hate God, do it in the friendliest way possible.

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Two Eagles Marcus Magic

I don’t even know what that title means, but I think it applies to this amazing image:

hot raver

And my reliable as ever source:

njpartyanimal (7:30:35 PM): dude
njpartyanimal (7:30:40 PM): www.girlsgonerave.com
njpartyanimal (7:30:48 PM): i want to meet my wife oon this site
njpartyanimal (7:30:50 PM): wow
njpartyanimal (7:30:54 PM): please look it up
njpartyanimal (7:30:57 PM): there slammin
anonymousbanker (7:59:15 PM): dude
anonymousbanker (7:59:17 PM): this is amazing
njpartyanimal (7:59:47 PM): i know
njpartyanimal (7:59:52 PM): i caught such a chub
njpartyanimal (8:00:05 PM): i mean normally i check out black porn if im feelin kinky
njpartyanimal (8:00:15 PM): but this shit is awesome
anonymousbanker (8:00:50 PM): hahaha
njpartyanimal (8:05:19 PM): my whole mission in life from this point forward is to find out where the fuck those rave chix are at
anonymousbanker (8:06:12 PM): im with you on that
anonymousbanker (8:07:34 PM): i vow to disclose any and all information that could lead to the discovery of these women

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Stab the Monopoly in the Heart

The Article: Spinning Into Oblivion by TONY SACHS and SAL NUNZIATO in today’s New York Times details the short-sighted nature of the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) — the infamous music label conglomerate that’s too busy suing college students in a hope of reclaiming profits lost from pushing terrible music for the past decade and not understanding ‘technology’.

The Text:

DESPITE the major record labelsā€™ best efforts to kill it, the single, according to recent reports, is back. Sort of.

Youā€™ll still have a hard time finding vinyl 45s or their modern counterpart, CD singles, in record stores. For that matter, youā€™ll have a tough time finding record stores. Todayā€™s single is an individual track downloaded online from legal sites like iTunes or eMusic, or the multiple illegal sites that cater to less scrupulous music lovers. The album, or collection of songs ā€” the de facto way to buy pop music for the last 40 years ā€” is suddenly looking old-fashioned. And the record store itself is going the way of the shoehorn.

This is a far cry from the musical landscape that existed when we opened an independent CD shop on the Upper West Side of Manhattan in 1993. At the time, we figured that as far as business ventures went, ours was relatively safe. People would always go to stores to buy music. Right? Of course, back then there were also only two ringtones to choose from ā€” ā€œriiiiinnngā€ and ā€œring-ring.ā€

Our intention was to offer a haven for all kinds of music lovers and obsessives, a shop that catered not only to the casual record buyer (ā€œDo you have the new Sarah McLachlan and … uh … is there a Beatles greatest hits CD?ā€) but to the fan and oft-maligned serious collector (ā€œCan you get the Japanese pressing of ā€˜Kinda Kinksā€™? I believe they used the rare mono mixesā€). Fourteen years later, itā€™s clear just how wrong our assumptions were. Our little shop closed its doors at the end of 2005.

The sad thing is that CDs and downloads could have coexisted peacefully and profitably. The current state of affairs is largely the result of shortsightedness and boneheadedness by the major record labels and the Recording Industry Association of America, who managed to achieve the opposite of everything they wanted in trying to keep the music business prospering. The association is like a gardener who tried to rid his lawn of weeds and wound up killing the trees instead.

In the late ā€™90s, our business, and the music retail business in general, was booming. Enter Napster, the granddaddy of illegal download sites. How did the major record labels react? By continuing their campaign to eliminate the comparatively unprofitable CD single, raising list prices on album-length CDs to $18 or $19 and promoting artists like the Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears ā€” whose strength was single songs, not albums. The result was a lot of unhappy customers, who blamed retailers like us for the dearth of singles and the high prices.

The recording industry association saw the threat that illegal downloads would pose to CD sales. But rather than working with Napster, it tried to sue the company out of existence ā€” which was like thinking youā€™ve killed all the roaches in your apartment because you squashed the one you saw in the kitchen. More illegal download sites cropped up faster than the associationā€™s lawyers could say ā€œcease and desist.ā€

By 2002, it was clear that downloading was affecting music retail stores like ours. Our regulars werenā€™t coming in as often, and when they did, they werenā€™t buying as much. Our impulse-buy weekend customers were staying away altogether. And it wasnā€™t just the independent stores; even big chains like Tower and Musicland were struggling.

Something had to be done to save the record store, a place where hard-core music fans worked, shopped and kibitzed ā€” and, not incidentally, kept the music businessā€™s engine chugging in good times and in lean. Who but these loyalists was going to buy the umpteenth Elton John hits compilation that the major labels were foisting upon them?

But instead, those labels delivered the death blow to the record store as we know it by getting in bed with soulless chain stores like Best Buy and Wal-Mart. These ā€œbig boxesā€ were given exclusive tracks to put on new CDs and, to add insult to injury, they could sell them for less than our wholesale cost. They didnā€™t care if they didnā€™t make any money on CD sales. Because, ideally, the person who came in to get the new Eagles release with exclusive bonus material would also decide to pick up a high-speed blender that frappĆ©ed.

The jig was up. It didnā€™t matter that even a store as small as ours carried hundreds of titles youā€™d never see at Best Buy and was staffed by people who actually knew who Van Morrison was, or that Tower Records had the entire history of recorded music under one roof while Costco didnā€™t carry much more than the current hits. A year after our shop closed, Tower went out of business ā€” something that would have been unthinkable just a few years earlier. The customers who had grudgingly come to trust our opinions made the move to online shopping or lost interest in buying music altogether. Some of the most loyal fans had been soured into denying themselves the music they loved.

Meanwhile, the recording industry association continues to give the impression that itā€™s doing something by occasionally threatening to sue college students who share their record collections online. But apart from scaring the dickens out of a few dozen kids, thatā€™s just an amusing sideshow. Theyā€™re not fighting a war any more than the folks who put on Civil War regalia and re-enact the Battle of Gettysburg are.

The major labels wanted to kill the single. Instead they killed the album. The association wanted to kill Napster. Instead it killed the compact disc. And today itā€™s not just record stores that are in trouble, but the labels themselves, now belatedly embracing the Internet revolution without having quite figured out how to make it pay.

At this point, it may be too late to win back disgruntled music lovers no matter what they do. As one music industry lawyer, Ken Hertz, said recently, ā€œThe consumerā€™s conscience, which is all we had left, thatā€™s gone, too.ā€

Itā€™s tempting for us to gloat. By worrying more about quarterly profits than the bigger picture, by protecting their short-term interests without thinking about how to survive and prosper in the long run, record-industry bigwigs have got what was coming to them. Itā€™s a disaster they brought upon themselves.

We would be gloating, but for the fact that the occupation we planned on spending our working lives at is rapidly becoming obsolete. And that loss hits us hard ā€” not just as music retailers, but as music fans.

Analysis: A bunch of international corporations creating an unstated monopoly and colluding to artificially raise prices, bankrupt small distributors and labels, and smashing any iota of independence in the music market. Thanks a lot RIAA.

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