As I type this, our neighbors across the street are having a party.  They did this last weekend as well.  I'm not sure what the theme of this week's party is, but last weekend it was for a small child, thereby featuring balloons, streams and very, very loud hip-hop music.

It also featured a confrontation outside the house at one in the morning.  Debbie was drunk; Jason, her husband, was angry about this fact.  He called her a "dumb drunk bitch" no less than a dozen times, and I know this because I counted while having my last cigarette.  One of her female friends came out to support her, and Debbie and jason argued back and forth at the tops of their voices with absolutely no regard for the fact that somebody was standing on the porch across the street watching them with an I-can't-believe-I'm-witnessing-this-stupid-bullshit expression on his face.  Eventually the resident of the house--and his brother came outside--and a brief confrontation happened which sadly did not feature anybody getting their ass kicked.

Jason took off in his car with a screeching of tires (the only reason I was out there, really, was to make sure that no damage was done to my truck), then came back about five minutes later.  Apparently Debbie had the key to the house, and she told him (in a truly inspired display of clear thinking) that he "needed to break a window to get in, like last time."  Jason left, irate, and then returned five minutes later in another screech of tires whereupon the house residents finally decided they'd had enough, noticed me on the porch for the first time and pleaded with him to leave.  He did, with another screeching of tires.

Debbie might be pregnant, even though she's on the pill.  Heaven help us all.

Oh, and while all this was taking place, the word "nigga" sizzled the air like frying bacon.  It's worth pointing out that during the course of the evening, I didn't see a single black person, yet Debbie, Jason and a few other people besides felt compelled to bellow the most offensive racial label ever created loud enough for God Himself to hear while having their yelling match.  Why?  Probably because it was being repeated ad nauseum on the stereo all throughout the drunkfest taking place.  The things you see when you have no napalm...

Jesus H. Christ, I hate hip-hop.  That'll be a future post; if you like that music, more power to you, but don't ever expect me to get on board with it because frankly, I think it's one of the worst things that's ever happened to this country.

And no, it's not a racial thing.  It's a stupidity thing.  More in the future.  But in the meantime...

SHAMELESS PLUG:  Animal Planet will be running Puppy Bowl II starting at noon on Sunday, featurng kittens at halftime.  Instead of watching terrible commercials during the game, why not watch 21 cute doggies be rambunctious instead?  I know I will.

Peace.

So I've just checked out this post in the Brutal Honesty community, and I had to respond.  This begs the question...

How did our society end up producing so many sociopaths?

I mean, seriously, how the fuck did this happen?  In today's day-to-day existence, I'm constantly amazed at the ways that people rationalize or justify their own terrible behavior.  From driving to thievery to, in this case adultery, it seems like anything can be explained away these days without having to take the slightest bit of responsibility for your own actions.  For example...

Parking In A Handicapped Space:  "I was just going into the store for a couple minutes!  That cop shouldn't give me a ticket.  I wasn't hurting anybody!"  (except for the disabled person who came in a minute after you that had to park on the other side of the lot, asshole)

Banging Somebody Else's Signifigant Other:  "Hey, it's not like I was friends with that person.  If his/her S.O. wants to get in my pants, who am I to deny them their moment of pleasure?  If they were doing their job, their S.O. wouldn't have to come to me in order to get off."  (way to take responsibility for being a fucking douche!)

Living Off The Fruit Of Somebody Else's Labor:  "If I don't have to work hard, why should I?  I've got a pretty good setup here.  Why would I want to rock the boat?  After all, everybody would do it if they had a chance."  (uh, no... actually, not everyone would, only lazy fucks like you)

And so on through a dozen more examples that I don't want to go into because I'll end kicking a hole in something.  I think it's high time I drew a line in this sand.  On this side, you are a rational, adult, productive member of our society who believes in everybody doing their part, telling the truth even when it hurts, doing the right and ethical thing whenever given the chance and obeying our societies' laws (or at the very least taking your punishment with your mouth shut if you get caught breaking them and not whining and trying to "explain things").  I'll back your play and you back mine, because we're good people.

On the other side of this line, you're a piece of crap filler person and I want nothing to do with you.  Period.

So... who's with me?

Karl Rove is a fucking slimeball.

From The Site:  The newsmagazine has obtained documentary evidence that White House deputy chief of staff Karl Rove was indeed a key source for Time magazine's Matt Cooper and that Rove--prior to the publication of the Bob Novak column that first publicly disclosed Valerie Wilson/Plame as a CIA official--told Cooper that former Ambassador Joseph Wilson's wife apparently worked at the CIA and was involved in Joseph Wilson's now-controversial trip to Niger.

Slimeball?  Yes.  When you out one of your country's deep operatives in the press, you're putting them at risk to get their domes lopped off... and that's just for starters.  And when you do it for political/personal reasons, it makes you even more of a fucking slimeball.

Hey, what's this?  Just got an e-mail in my box.  It reads:

Dear Karl:

We don't think you did anything wrong.  Keep up the great work.

Sincerely, Every Right-Wing Brain-Dead Asshole In America

I'm telling you, some day the people are going to decide they truly and deeply have had enough of these fucking douchebags.  When the highlights make the evening news, I will sit in my easy chair with a cold Sam Adams ("Brewer.  Stateman.  Patriot.") and giggle my goddamn ass off.  Pretty soon, these shitheads are going to learn them same lesson that Nixon did:  you can't fuck the people over forever.

Out of those last 240 words, 9 of them were swears.  That's what these people do to me.

Assholes.

If you didn't get a chance to watch the Orange Bowl this week, let's just say you didn't miss much.  Aside from the Oklahoma University Sooners taking the biggest butt-reaming ever seen since the last Deep Inside Jenna Jameson video, you also missed Ashlee Simpson's vocal flailings in front of a nationally televised audience.

In case you missed it, here is the end of her performance which pretty much sums it up:

http://www.monhaut.com/media/simpson.avi

Okay, now that the hilarity is out of the way, allow me to get steamed for a moment.  Bear in mind that every time a record is purchased from Geffen Records (who you may remember is the label that gave us Guns 'N Roses once upon a time), part of your purchase goes to the coffers dedicated to foisting such talentless undesirables as Ms. Simpson upon the world.  I haven't bought a new release CD in about six years, but if I do, it damn sure won't be one by Geffen.

I've actually read things that have said, "Jeez, she;s only 20.  Come one, give her a break!"  Um. . . no.  No, no, no, no, no!  Goddamn it, when is this minimal-standard loving society going to wake the fuck up and realize that giving a free pass to this sort of dreck in fact helps nobody?  It's like the record company said, "Okay, Jessica was sort of a hit. . . umm, what if we took her sister who is not as attractive or talented and foisted her upon the public?  Yeah, great idea!  I'm sure those oinking proletariat will go for it!"

As of September 16th, 2004, her album Autobiography (a vomit-inducing title considering the woman who made it isn't even old enough to buy a legal drink yet) has been certified triple platinum.

And I still can't even get an agent to represent my novel.  People wonder why a frown a lot.  Trust me, there's no fucking rocket science to it.

Thought this would make me feel better, but it didn't.  Quite the opposite.  Oh well; at least it's Friday, only one more day of work left.

Fucking Ashlee Simpson.  Jesus.

Okay, so I've sorted out my thoughts on the election. (deep breath) Ready? Here we go. . .

( One, Two, Fuck You )