squidbag

Dope Pope

Okay, I may have misunderestimated this new Pope.  Like a lot of people, Catholics and non-Catholics alike, I was fond of Classic Pope, and disappointed when imaginary God-like forces didn't allow him to live forever and we ended up with this new Pope, now with half the calories and charm, and 100% more Germanism.  Or so it seemed.  I reacted to this new Pope originally in this entry, but now I'm here to tell you that I may have been wrong.  I know what you're thinking: "Wrongness?  Here, on the Squidbag?  That old reliable Squidbag?  What in the crap?  What kind of Christmas entry is this?"  Well, piss off, the lot of you.  From what I have learned about this new guy, he likes to dress up like an evil Santa (pictured) and scare kids, he's into drugs (also pictured) during the Christmas mass - which has just got to liven that old thing right up - and he's done something called "incensing the altar."  Now, I don't know exactly what that means, but I think I broke into a church and did it once during high school.  Okay, five times.  Maybe more.  Anyway, the point is that I think maybe now this new Pope and I could get along, as long as he lets me wear some of the hats.

In other news of people you may have misjudged, Osama bin Laden's niece is pretty hot.  After today, we will be traveling for a bit, to see beautiful Chattanooga, beautiful Nashville, and beautiful people all around.  I'd like to wish everyone some merry holidays (learned to play dreidel this year - addicted) and warn my buddy Mr. Jones that red wine vinaigarette can't say "no," so you have to take it easy, especially in the bedroom.  Also, congrats to B on being the 666th comment poster, and Eric P on being number 700.

A Christmas Tradition

Since 1993, I have read the same book about this time of year.  While some people choose to turn their attentions toward Dickens, or "The Night Before Christmas," my holiday just isn't complete without a by-the-fire perusal of the Mark Grant masterpiece Christmas Slaughter.  Christmas Slaughter (and I only found out about the rest of the series recently) is the fifth book in a five-part series (called Mutants Amok, apparently) about genetic mutants made from horrifyingly manipulated human DNA who revolt against their human creators and take over the planet.  The mutants are horrible, gross monsters (there are many references to snot and boils in the book - also snouts, warts, pus, sewers and vomit) ruled by Emperor Charlemagne, and governed by BrainGenerals.  The mutant armies are trying to cleanse the human race from the face of the Earth, and are opposed by a hard-bitten rebel force, personified in this book by Max Turkel, Jack Bender, Phil Potts, the sexy cyborg SU912, and the Cleavers, a band of gun-toting, rock-n-roll worshipping killers located in the San Francisco Bay area and named for Eldridge Cleaver.

Lots of violence in the book.  Lots of sex, too.  Some of it interspecies, and some with hot cyborg chicks.  The "Christmas" part of the book stems from the mutants' love of Christmas.  This is exemplified by their dress (see cover illustration), carols (one treacherous Brain General is murdered to the strains of "White Christmas"), packages and the fact that the "final solution to the human problem" resides in a huge building in the financial district of San Fran got up to look like a Christmas tree, lights and all.  This is not a classic of Western literature by any stretch of the imagination, but it is better than Daniel Whittman's work (it's much better than Star Trek!), and a lot of fun.  It also has a bent sense of humor, which isn't immediately evident.  Anyway, a sample for the road, then:

"Four mutants in trenchcoats were standing shoulder-to-shoulder singing carols.  They were just starting 'We Wish You a Mutie Christmas' when Hosannah's .44 Magnum went off like a lunar launch.  A hole appeared in one caroler's trenchcoat, followed immediately by several much, much larger holes  from which exited bullet fragments and shredded organs of various kinds.  The three remaining mutants started to squeal.  Max's Desert Eagle silenced one, leaving it speechless, brainless and dead.  Hosannah shot another caroler in the belly.  Max put a .50 in the back of the final caroler's head.  Its face exploded in a gigantic gout of gore that sent its proboscis whistling all the way to Allimuto's restaurant at the end of the block where it came to rest as an odd new ornament hanging from the shiny red, white and green garlands.

'Merry Christmas, motherfucker,' Max said."

War On Santa

I bet it's not too much longer before the provisions of the Patriot Act and the War on Terror are expanded to include a hunt for Santa Claus.  I mean, Monkeyface believes in WMDs, Compassionate Conservatism, Intelligent Design, and the idea that you could "spread freedom" like cream cheese on the sliced-open and exposed bagel of a freshly invaded country, so how much of a leap is it to assume he believes in Santa, too.  And if he believes in Santa, he perceives him as a threat.  Here is an individual with apparently unlimited resources, a cadre of people devoted to him (and who do whatever he asks, without question) and who does not share any kind of ideology with the President.  He's got that long beard, and a foreign-sounding name, too.  He never registers any of his regular flights with the FAA, he never files tax returns - anywhere - and he's in our airspace, once a year, for a prolonged flyover - get this - giving stuff away for free.  So he's a liberal, too.  A background check yields a hundred or more years of history - all of it hearsay.  A man without a country, who has a series of more and more complex pseudonyms, and people dressed like him in every mall, on every streetcorner, at public events, and all over the TV!  His image and message pervade the culture.  He's a force to be reckoned with.  If they could just get aerial photographs (with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one for Colin Powell or some patsy to explain to the UN) of gingerbread houses filled with elves and the capacity for chemical and biological weaponry, we'd be at war with Santa right now.

I bet a lot less people would die in that war.  Candy caning scars heal up really quick.

Diversitude

While I wait fucking patiently for someone besides Matt and Mike to send in questions, I also reflect upon that time coming up which is so stressful for religious conservative white people.  It starts today.  I feel sorry for them, inasmuch as there's a diversity gauntlet they're going to have to run for the next couple of months.  First, there are "the holidays" what with their constant attacks on Christmas.  Fuck, who scheduled Solstice, Kwanzaa and Chanukkah at Christmastime?  Don't these people understand that this is Christmas, and have a Happy New Year?  I know this is the attitude of several of the people around me in the Florida panhandle, and it just gets worse from there.  You come back in 2006, and there's MLK day lurking right around the corner, and after that - Black History Month.  If you can just make it to March, you'll be okay.  You won't have to celebrate diversity for awhile.

In all fairness, the idea of "celebrating diversity" never really rang the gong for me.  I don't quite grasp the notion (because I am dull-witted and slow of thought, presumably) of calling out and recognizing other people's differences.  Any context I plug this into makes me feel like I took my hair dryer overseas.  I kind of always looked it as an appreciation of the different threads that make up the rich tapestry that is our society, sure - but having a celebration because you and me are colored differently?  Hmmm.  Seems forced, like a Benetton ad, or this sketch from Saturday Night Live. (go to the bottom of the page)

I will end it there.  Once you have evoked great thinkers like our own Piscopo and Murphy, what else is there, really?

Stop Helping the Enemy

Okay, okay, all you people just calm down.  Just calm down, there's no need to get excited.  So the US Government is spying on people within it's own borders.  So the black helicopters are there for a reason after all.  President Monkeyface is the first to step up and assure you that it's limited, he can do it, and it pertains only to a few cases connected to Al-Qaeda.  And the power to listen in on our phone calls are strictly border-related - in some confusing way - just check out this quote:

"This program is limited in nature to...uh...those that are known Al-Qaeda ties or affiliates.  That's important.  So it's a program that's limited and you brought up something that I want to stress and that is is that these calls are not intercepted within the country, they're from outside the country to in the country or vice-versa."

Man, what a silver tongue.  Anyway, you stupid people better stop talking about this, because you're helping the terrorists.  And if you're in some kind of quandary over "civil rights" and "unchecked power," or even "maniac cowboy moron fuck running roughshod over the Constitution and not even wiping off the tracks left in the ink by his frenetic masturbation into the document upon which this country was founded," then worry no more.  Just ask President Monkeyface.  His approval rating has inched up, due to the folks Josh was talking about coming back into the fold based on the economy, and so he feels confident when he tells us, "Do I have the legal authority to do this?  And the answer is, absolutely."  Absolute Authority.  Shockingly close to, "The President can bomb anybody he likes."  But that's just me, way off in left field again, yeah? 

Stop freaking out.  The President can hear you, and you're just helping the enemy.  Stop helping the enemy, you big enemy-helper, you.

Garth Ennis is a Genius

Yes, he's a responsible for the best Punisher stories ever written, including the defining outro for the character, covered here.  He's also the author of Preacher, a sprawlingly brilliant epic of a tale about America, Ireland, cowboys, vampires, guns, religion, serial killers, fucking, violence, love and other stuff that happens to people in real life.  It features four of the best characters ever written on the comics page, Tulip O'Hare, Jesse Custer, Starr, and the Saint of Killers.  He's the inventor of Hitman, the DC Universe's first superpowered, well, hitman.  He wrote several of the defining issues of Hellblazer before the movies went and fucked the character right in the Keanu, and he made Etrigan the Demon speak completely in rhyme for a ridiculous number of issues.  He gave us the best Nick Fury short of Steranko, and an Earth goddess who could seriously kick ass.  He's a funny fucking guy, who realizes that humor and drama are right on opposite sides of the room from each other at ALL times, and they often hold hands and flirt.  He's also likable and humble, and sends signed stuff overseas to people who bring him bottles of whisky at conventions.

None of that is why I was inspired to write this, though.  This page, from Punisher vol. 4, #13, 2002, I thought was just brilliant.  And typical of the random shit Garth throws into his books.  These two are throwaway characters, Colombian poachers and murderers who die on the next page - one page after being introduced.  I knew you would all appreciate this.

Axe the Squidbag!

Due to some limited demand, this entry shall serve as the impetus and the request for you, my readership, to ask me questions.  (What, am I applying for a job?  Then stop asking me fucking questions, Lloyd.)  Any question you would like, be it within my presumed realm of experience or not, be it relevant to topics at tentacle or not, (like this one - thanks again, RobotArmMonkeyBrain!) be it phrased with correct syntax not or.  Shit.  I am your magic fucking eight-ball, so quiz my ass.  I will do my best to answer, pulling answers from whatever orifice seems appropriate, and will accept as many questions as you would like to send.  I will additionally be listening to old Misfits and Black Flag records.  You may email your questions or ask them via the comments field, and I will consolidate them all into a delicious stew of interrogation, then ladle it up with a sprinkling of information, forgetting not to include the neckbone.  That's what adds the flavor.  It's the neckbone, that's what it is.  I will be accepting questions for this enterprise through the time when they stop coming in. 

Merry Fucking Holidays.

Keep Xhrist in Xhristmas

I think that I have found a way, after all this time, to compromise with that particular virulent strain of Christians who insist that no one celebrate the "holiday" season, and who seek to undermine Solstice, Chanukah, and even the fabricated holiday (now 42 years old!) of Kwanzaa by insisting that everyone keep Christ in Christmas, despite the fact that it's supposed to be Mithramas anyway, and Christians always steal and keep the good shit for themselves.  Regardless, I think that we can come to an agreement on this, and I don't know why I never thought of this before.  They have a simple demand - keep Christ in Christmas.  Okay.  We will.  Now you do something for me.  Keep Christ in Christmas.  Exclusively.  I never want to hear about his dead, Nazarene, carpentry, making fishes, lanky, preaching ass ever again, unless it's Christmas.  I won't even limit you to the 25th - you can have him throughout the entire Christmas season, which, of course, is the last quarter of the year now.  That's still three-quarters of a Christ-free year, and I think we'll all feel better about it.  You get what you want, and the rest of us get peace and quiet for three seasons a year.  I know I'll feel better about it, and if you don't?  Well, your backs will be against the wall the fastest when I rule with a grip of iron.  Yep, time to clear out the year.  Easter has obviously got to go, since it's so fucking morbid anyway, and serves as nothing more than an excuse for Christian ladies to show off their finest hats, and dress their kids up all dopey.  You can keep the chocolate eggs and bunny crap.  This plan of mine should work, provided everyone's willing to be reasonable about it, which of course means following my rules.  Keep any and all public mentions and displays about or having to with Jesus the Christ, out of view of non-Christians and out of public spaces until the Christmas season, which begins, by my reckoning, shortly before Halloween now.  I will continue to tolerate this because the juxtaposition of Christ and Jack O' Lanterns amuses me.  But that's it - last quarter of the year - the rest is Christless.  And none of this "Christmas in July" shit, either.  That sucks balls.  Donkey balls.  Sheep balls.  Balls away in the manger.  We have to resist the slide towards a "Brazil" style society, where it's fucking Christmas all the time.

Keep Christ in Christmas, that's what I say.

Rumsfeldian Meatgrinder

Donald "The Sexiest Mass Murderer Alive" Rumsfeld (seen here after consuming his morning infant) has a plan for building a meatgrinder on a massive scale, and he'd like to share it with you.  It's not for building one of the conventional sized meatgrinders you so often see in kitchens, commercials and horror movies - no, this one is so huge, we can funnel American soliders into it at least until the bad press from so much blood spilled upon Iraqi soil for no goddamn reason at all knocks the fucking kneecaps off of the Republican party during 2006 elections.  Let me tell you how he expects to pull this off.  Hot on Monday's news from the Monkeyface that "30,000, more or less" Iraqi citizens have died in this pointless fucking endeavor, Big Don is suggesting that after sucessful (whatever that means in Iraq nowadays - not on fire?) elections go down this week, we might start drawing down troops (by as many as 20K initially!) in the region.  We would continue that drawdown through next summer, which would get us in view of the 2006 electoral process.  It will also leave too few soldiers at the front, dealing with IEDs, exploding terrorists, "insurgents" and all the bullshit that's killing and maiming them.  And that shit's kicking their ass now, with a bunch of guys.  Imagine this situation with a bunch less guys.  They will be converted into instant puree by this process, and all of Iraq will become a fine red mist, punctuated only by a Balkan-style civil war.  Who knows how the Mysterious Consortium of the Coerced (that's what they call it, right?) will react to this, but I'm going to guess that their Samsonite is in the trunk already.

So this is Don's big idea.  He's pretty sensitive about it, so be kind.  His parents were siblings, I think.

Tookie & the Rent Boy

At 12:01 am this midnight past, the State of California put Tookie Williams to death for a crime he maintained right up until the end of his life that he did not commit.  I was against this, not because I feel Tookie was innocent, (whatever the hell that means) but because I oppose a state-administered death penalty of any kind, and also because I feel like this particular case had factors above and beyond those normally associated incarceration and punishment.

I oppose the death penalty, this latest round of which turns 30 next year, making me slightly older than the current death penalty.  I don't oppose it because I feel that it is inherently wrong to take a murderer's life - even though that is a little Biblical for my tastes - I oppose it for the reasons most good Squidbags do - I think it's racist, unfair, wrongly applied, rash, and frequently lies in the hands of people like former Austrian rent boy Arnold Schwarzenegger, who just wasn't convinced Tookie had done enough of a turnaround, or was doing enough for society to remain alive in prison for the rest of his natural life.  Arnold, who used to swallow strangers' jism for a living, not acknowledging someone else's turnaround.  Wow.  Not satisfied with killing folks pretend, he had to get one for real.  I really can't think of anything that personifies a "girly-man" more than an actor (not the most muy macho of professions) hiding behind the State Seal and voting for someone to die because he's not convincing enough.  Fuck you, Arnold.

Redemption is a big topic right now.  I guess that people needed to be able to say Tookie had redeemed himself to deserve to continue living.  Fuck that.  If he did what he was convicted of having done, then he got what he deserved by having his normal life stripped away from him.  There is no way to truly balance the scales for some things, and the best a person can do afterwards is live as best they can and try to make amends.  I don't know that he ever tried to make amends with the families of the people he's accused of having killed, but since he claimed he didn't do it, that complicates things.  I know he tried to live a better life and give back - and I know the victims' families didn't get a damn thing out of watching Tookie die.  And the message for those kids and teenagers who took heart and carved out a better path because of something Tookie said or wrote?  You got me, man - that's a pretty fucked message the state just sent them.

If someone killed your whole family and you killed them yourself, it would serve a need.  I could even argue that that act would be justice.  It would also make you a killer.  You would be the agent of change in the situation, and have to deal with the consequences of the unnatural balance you forced into that equation.  You would then have to live your life to balance out the killing you had done.  Equanimity of one kind or another is achieved.  When the government offs someone, they are meant to serve as proxy for someone - presumably the victim - but this couldn't feel further from the truth.  They just do what they do - taxes, wars, raising interest rates, lying, killing folks - all functions of government, and none of them has anything to do with justice.  They are parts of the system, and they get done because they are there to be done.

The short version is that I think Tookie's death is another in a long line of needless killings that don't change a thing and are rendered meaningless because of the circumstances under which they occur.  The death penalty is unjust, outmoded, and has never served to be anything other than retributive.  Maybe one or two high-profile deaths like Tookie's will make people think it over.