I meant to post this last week, but then I didn’t because — SQUIRREL!
And now I’m informed there’s another one tonight?!? Seriously? I’m not sure how much more of this I can stand, y’all. I’m going to need to put in for a new liver.
Anyone have the number for the Get a New Liver Foundation?
HELP ME.
[Chirpstory after the jump]
Posted in I Am Batshit Insane, Political Shenanigans
Tagged Chirpstory, GOP Debate, Twitter
I was bored and cranky on Friday, so I started live-tweeting CNN’s ridonkulous coverage of Hurricane Irene.
A friend on Twitter compiled the following Chirpstory, which, if I do say so myself (and I do), is pretty funny.
Oh look! I just tooted my own horn!
Toot toot!
-ABLxx
[Chirpstory after the jump]
Posted in I Am Batshit Insane, Shits and Giggles
Tagged Angry Black Lady, Chirpstory, Hurricane Irene, Twitter
I’ve been live-tweeting the hurricane because why wouldn’t I? It’s hot outside and I want to lounge in my dry air-conditioned apartment and watch the Hurricane on TV want to sit in solidarity with my camrades-in-arms on the East Coast. Ye brave Brooklynites who have swarmed your local bodegas in order to stock up on Pabst Blue Ribbon and Kettle Chips.
Onward!
(But seriously folks, stay safe out there!)
Open Thread!
Talk to me, Goose!
Posted in Angry Black Reader Participation, I Am Batshit Insane
Tagged Hurricane Irene
We don’t know whether the penis in question belongs to one Anthony D. Weiner, but it would be irresponsible not to speculate.
The timeline is weird since I took screenshots throughout the night, but whatevs. (If you want insight into my busted mind-head, click through to the last page (on the bottom… we’re paging it, people, not scrolling it, so bear with me) and work your way to the first page.)
I’m in San Jose staying at the Fairmont Hotel (as I always do when I travel to San Jose for court appearances.) I love staying at hotels (especially on someone else’s dime). I love room service. I love how dark hotels are when you close the blinds. I like being able to dump my suitcase on the floor and let my clothes explode out of my suitcase like a bomb. I like the tiny lotions. I like the bathrobes. I like that I can make phone calls while I’m peeing. I like that I can watch TV while I’m peeing. I like smoking in the bathroom with the fan on even though there’s a no smoking sign (while peeing and making phone calls and watching TV, obvs.). I like extended check-outs. I like mini-bars. I like being a member of “The President’s Club” and being able to haughtily proclaim at the front desk that I am a member of said club even though the only perk I get for being in this esteemed club is free Wi-Fi that doesn’t even work in my room. Oh, and membership is free. So there’s that. I like this particular hotel because the concierges know me. “Back again?” they say every time I show up. Even some of the cab drivers know me. I reckon they don’t see a lot of small black ladies playing dress-up in lawyer suits.
All that said, this particular stay has been… interesting. I first noticed something was strange when the line at the front desk was 25 people deep.
I then noticed something was really strange when I looked around and saw a lot of this: (click for furry pictures of Furry goodness)
I’m supposed to be working on a brief. I’m not.
Instead, I’m watching flash mob videos and listening to Daft Punk. Why? Why not? I’m a procrastinator, and you know how the old saying goes: Procrastinators are changing tomorrow.
Anywhoozle, after watching almost every flash mob video known to humankind, I’ve decided that the first two I ever saw in my whole wide life are still my favorite. So there! Once I like something, I like it forever! (Until I hate it.) I don’t need change. Change is for losers… and Obama half-bots. (Whar be teh hope?!) I want more of the same, dagnabbit!
As such, here are my two favorite flash mob videos:
This one is a timeless classic.
This one will make you smile, and if it doesn’t, you probably have no soul.
(Did I say two videos? And you believed me?!)
No, not you, Justice Scalia. It's just an image. A gestalt. A zeitgeist, if you will. (Call me! You're pretty.)
I’m super busy y’all. One of those busies where I try to avoid reading the news so that I can avoid ending up hating everything. But I read an article in California Lawyer today (I’m a subscriber since I’m both a Lawyer and I live in California) and wouldntcha know, I got downright concerned. The hazard of being a blogger who enjoys a good tirade is that sometimes my rant tendencies intersect with my lawyer tendencies, and not in a good way. This is one of those times.
In a recent interview with California Lawyer, Antonin Scalia again made the case for originalism, which is the view that the Constitution should be upheld and interpreted as written; none of that namby pamby “living breathing document” crap. Just look at what it says! It’s all right there!
Scalia is deliciously arrogant. He seems to think he and only he knows what’s right or wrong; what’s constitutional or un-. It’s almost as if he wishes he could have been on the bench back when the Court decided Marbury v. Madison (1803) and could somehow remain on the bench until the end of time. Life would be much simpler if it was All Up to Him, wouldn’t it?
The interview is a hoot. First, Scalia says that the Constitution doesn’t prohibit discrimination on the basis of gender –so, suck it, ladies! (Now, lest you think that it’s insane to think that it isn’t unconstitutional to discriminate against women, recall that the Lily Ledbetter Act was just signed into law, like, yesterday.) He practically calls the Burger Court a bunch of stupidheads. Why? Well because back in 1971 when women were starting to get all uppity bra-burny, SCOTUS — with Chief Justice Burger at the helm — ruled that the Fourteenth Amendment prohibits discrimination on the basis of sex. (It was a case called Reed v. Reed and it was a travesty! What idiots those justices were! Yeah, I’m looking at you, Thurgood. What were you thinking? You weren’t, obvs. That’s what we get for letting black people on the bench.)
As for equal rights for our gay brothers and sisters, well don’t even get him started. The thrust of Scalia’s statements (as I view them) provides a snapshot of what his opinion on Prop 8 will be once that case makes its way to the Supremes. Scalia’s viewpoint is nothing shocking, really; it’s not like anyone who has been paying attention doesn’t already know what his opinion will be. But for those of you who have been trapped under something heavy, here it is: The Fourteenth Amendment doesn’t protect ‘mos.
Sorry, queers. You might as well go ahead and figure out which 2/5 of your person you don’t really need and join us black amputees at the back of the Constitutional Bus.
::exhale::
Man alive — The pressure in my brain is starting to build. I feel a rant growing deep in my bowels (or wherever rants are stored) but I can’t let it out. It’s stuck. It has to be because I’ve got a couple of cases that very well may end up in SCOTUS. It’s a rare thing for lawyers (and no, I’m not going to be arguing anything, but I certainly will get to write a couple brieves, and that in and of itself is pretty fucking sweet), but it might actually happen, which means I need to go about getting myself admitted to practice in SCOTUS pretty soon, which in turn means I need to find someone to sponsor me — like AA. (It’s a small cross-eyed bear for the chance to get one of those cool certificates with the old timey calligraphy.)
The point is, I can’t go mouthing off about how certain Italian jurists who wear certain black robes make me feel a certain way about certain flammable items. So I’m not gonna do it. Wouldn’t be prudent — at this juncture.
Instead, I’m going to let you, dear reader, imagine what my reaction to Scalia’s comments would be. Just fill in some fun words wherever you see blanks. If you’re feeling ambitious, tell me what you came up with in the comment section. Consider this a mad lib blogging experiment.
If you hate it, just shut up about it, skip to the end, and watch the damn videos. Continue reading
Posted in Angry Black Lady Chronicles, Balloon Juice Cross-Posts, I Am Batshit Insane, Legal Shenanigans, LGBTQ Shenanigans, Political Shenanigans
Tagged Angry Black Lady, Balloon Juice, cross-eyed bear, Equal Rights, legal mumbo jumbo, marriage equality, Prop 8, Scalia, SCOTUS, Stephen Colbert, United States Supreme Court
Yep. It’s about old friends, and getting drunk with those old friends, but not buying those old friends any beer because, look, do you really know them that well? And can’t they buy their own damn beer? Yeah. They can.
Basically, the song is asking you a rhetorical question: Should you forget your old acquaintances? Never think of them? Never think of the olden days or the days of yore or yesteryear? The answer is a resounding NO! Of course not. You should get drunk with those old acquaintances and talk about the good ol’ days! That’s what you should do!
The full sentiment of the song is lost to many of us, since in these here united states, we only sing the first verse. As a nation of drunk asses on New Year’s Eve, we don’t have time to sing eleventy verses of some Scottish song we don’t understand. There’s drink to be drunk, and some hot guy or gal with whom we want to accidentally make out and then never speak of again.
Anyway, read the lyrics for yourself. I’m fairly certain the song is about getting crunk, Scottish-style, but what do I know? I’m a known crazy person.
| The English Version | The English Version in a Bagpipes Accent |
| Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind ? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and days of old lang syne ?
And surely you’ll buy your pint cup!
We two have run about the slopes,
We two have paddled in the stream,
And there’s a hand my trusty friend !
|
Shid ald akwentans bee firgot, an nivir brocht ti mynd? Shid ald akwentans bee firgot, an ald lang syn*?
An sheerly yil bee yur pynt-staup!
We twa hay rin aboot the braes,
We twa hay pedilt in the burn,
An thers a han, my trustee feer!
|
The message is pretty clear, isn’t it? Don’t forget your old acquaintances! Don’t forget the old days! Meet up with some old friends; go out and pick some daisies; maybe paddle in a stream, hold hands, and then go to the pub!
Not so fast, though – surely you’re buying your own pint, and surely I’m buying my own pint, and yes, I will stop calling you Shirley, but look — I haven’t seen you in a while, and frankly, I’m not sure if I like you enough to buy you a pint (and dissing my Shirley joke didn’t really help your “buy me a damn pint” cause.) So why don’t you go buy your beer, I’ll buy my beer, and then we can drink our separate respective beers and talk about auld lang syne aka the good old days aka back in the day! And then later when we’re good and sloshed, we’ll hold hands and drink some more! (But I’m still not buying you a beer, so back off already.)
That’s what the lyrics mean! Right?
No wait.
Upon a reread, I think the song is saying that you should skip all the daisy picking and paddling around because that’s dumb — you should just get drunk with your old friends and talk about what y’all have been up to, and you’ll come to find that everyone is up to the same shit: picking fine daisies, running around the slopes (skiing?? golfing??), wandering many a weary foot, paddling in the stream from morning til dinner (why? For fishing? In a stream? While paddling? Something doesn’t add up. No wonder Scottish people are drunk all the time.) Also, there’s a sea roaring between you. I bet the sea is a metaphor for distance, hence the old acquaintance business.
I think that’s it.
Or is it? I don’t know. I just spent a half hour trying to figure out how to add tables to this post. I’m not exactly an expert on anything. Besides, I’ve never really thought about what the song means. I’m just spit-ballin’ here.
Point is, go out, get drunk (or not) and hang out with friends (or not) and just wait until midnight — if the world doesn’t end, then go to sleep and wake up and curse yourself for having drunk so much the night before (or not).
[videos after the jump] Continue reading
