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January 24, 2006

Jesusland expands...

North into the frozen tundra of Canadia. It was a bad week to be named Paul Martin. Where will the Hollywood celebs make empty threats about of moving to now? France? Go! I'll help.

On the other hand, not expanding are the bellies of women who prefer to kill their babies rather than deal with the unsightly weight-gain, stretch marks and responsibility for their actions.

Greg Gutfeld announces a new magazine targeted towards these blue state women. I hope next he invents a razor so foolproof even a female liberal can figure out how to shave! And bathe.

You're welcome.

Posted by Moxie at 2:00 AM | Comments (16)

January 10, 2006

Moxie.nu -- no longer a blog

Okay folks...I'm going retro. Not sure HOW retro I'm going, this is a big decision. I could go back to "journal" status from when I started writing online -- take it further to "eZine" -- "personal webpage" or even homepage status.

It's a choice idiots like you who only read via RSS readers, hacks like Wankette and Pajamas Media have forced me to make.

I denounce "blogging" and think all of you suck.

Did you hear that?
I hate you all. Yes you! All of you and your little dogs too.

Consider it blogging sadomasochism.

Or in this case, sadoMOXochism. Prepare to suffer from the firm swat of my hand. No feathers here, my friends.

When I started writing online, I used a clumsy but easy content management system someone built for me personally, because he loved me. I went through that, moved on to blogger, then to MT and now....I want to hand code everything. Blinking GIFs, LARGE fonts. Background patterns that make the text unreadable. Broken links. Awful electronic music you can't turn off. Graphics that won't load. NO BLOGROLL. If I'm really lucky, your computer will lock up, you will have to reboot and when you do, you will only be able to send email in a scripty, femme pink font.

I'm smart enough to get out of a club when the people who join it are soiling the reputations of others.

While it may take me some time, I plan to be the anti-blogger. It will take quite some time to get rid of the technology enabling these idiots. But as Ah-nold always says...I'll be back.

Posted by Moxie at 12:24 AM | Comments (27)

January 7, 2006

Everything explained

I got home from Yamashiro earlier and checked in on Steve H's site.

Of course I see some comment over there mentioning me and I'm just going to post both over here. Because that's the kind of lazy blogger I am.

Sadly, the way I found this blog was sorta through Wonkette. National Review (the Corner, I think) had a link to Wonkette who in turn had a link to Moxie who in turn had a link here. I come back here every at least once a week, Moxie once a month, Wonkette NEVER.

Posted by: bobgirrl | January 7, 2006

[editor's note: to the best of knowledge, I don't think Wankette, has EVER linked to me, thank god]

Thanks bobgirrl, that's about how often I update. If people only visit once a month, I'm doing my job.

Posted by: Moxie | January 7, 2006

So for you wankers who come over here infrequently and wonder why I don't post often enough for you -- if I'm on your once-a-month list, well -- you get what you pay for.

I've got lazy readers and I'm a lazy writer in return.

Sure, I'm full of stranger than fiction stories. Bob Shrum and his wife (who I thought was a fat man, in really ugly glasses) were at Yamashiro last night. But I can't REALLY write about those things for half-assed readers. Especially not how Mickey Kaus finally went to see BrokeButt Mountain after flogging it for weeks on his Slate blog. Mickey assures us he's only half gay, because he only found one of the actors convincing.

You see, the most interesting things that happen to me seem tacky to write about.

For instance, a few months ago I was lucky enough to be hanging out with Andrew Breitbart, Greg Gutfeld et al and I kinda crashed the Bill Maher wrap party. I didn't write about it because you all suck.

Or how about that weird British guy from an online dating site who got nasty when I googled him and found out he's MARRIED. Oh! And there is the story about the guy who on the first date told me how he and his buddy had 20 naked girls last night, asses-up. Like I'd be impressed. Or the guy who worked for Nokia and traveled for work, but claimed his PHONE didn't work abroad. Nice one. But you didn't hear any of this from me.

I'm only writing as often as you freaks visit.

Are we clear?

Posted by Moxie at 1:05 AM | Comments (23)

January 6, 2006

Al Qaeda and Democrats

a unified voice, yet again.

Posted by Moxie at 6:12 PM | Comments (7)

January 3, 2006

It hurts me to say this

more than it hurts you to read this

I thought perhaps by 2006, I could find something positive to say about Pajamas Media. Not so, and no one cries more than I do over Raj and Rerun's business failure. Except Raj and Rerun.

Clicked over to a few of my flanneled pals from the Moxroll and see they are STILL advertising themselves.

It's not their own ad server, so ostensibly they are paying for it. NOT smart. They could do that for FREE. This isn't rocket science, folks. And they are sucking out the remaining gravitas from blogging daily. Thanks, you buttheads. I'd like to use more intelligent terms, but I call 'em like I see 'em.

Hey, I have a brilliant idea! I am going to advertise myself on my own site. Now gimme 7 million bucks Aubrey Chernick!

I think I could give 7 million dollars to my 5 year old cousin and she'd do better things with it than those douchebags. Sure, she might throw a tea party for her dolls, wait -- that's not so different -- but she'd surely ask someone's help. Someone who knows business. In other words not Raj.

Oh well. Happy 2006 Pajunky Media. Be careful of your flannel, it's tricky when you get too close to the fire.

Posted by Moxie at 6:54 PM | Comments (14)

not in jesus' name

Stop the ACLU has a great post up about a Navy Chaplain who is on a hunger strike because he isn't aloud to pray to Jesus in public while wearing his uniform.

Being a heathen, I don't care who someone prays to in public, in uniform or out. In other branches of the military, we have Chaplains or whatever they are called dealing with the Muslims at Gitmo.

It reminded me of a post from long ago. Can he pray in Nike's name?

That's so Pedestrian

My memories are so vivid, it could have been last week that I sat around the big oak table, a 10th grader taking a secular bible study class at my private prep school. Our Professor introduced himself, and immediately urged us not to doodle and mark up our bibles the way we did our other textbooks. We then proceeded to go around the table and tell the group what, if any religion we were raised with so that we may anticipate the varied viewpoints we would encounter throughout the semester;

"I'm Episcopalian"
"Mormon, my Dad's youngest wife is 14"
"My mother is Jewish and my Dad is a Philanderer."
"Lutheran, but we don't practice it."
"Catholic, my Mother almost became a nun but she got pregnant with me and was kicked out of the convent."

And then it was Julie's turn.

"I'm a Pedestrian, and my parents are very religious."

My Professor chuckled and said, "Presbyterian."
"No," Julie confirmed adamantly, "Pedestrian."

Our Professor was a smart man and let it go. But I could not. I was next.

"Well, until just a moment ago I was a non practicing catholic, who doesn't believe in god but this Pedestrian thing sounds like an organized religion I can really get behind," I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "Julie, do you go to the First United Church of Christ the Pedestrian? Or the Reformed Church of Latter-day Pedestrians?"

She didn't think it was either. I should hope not.

After class I was nicknamed The Minister. I was also elected Pastor of the Last Reformed Orthodox Church of Seventh Avenue Pedestrians. I was so proud.

Julie, I found out later that day was originally from Milwaukee, which my warped teenage mind found ironic and amusing. "Me walkie, you walkie, we all walkie to the Pedestrian Church of Milwaukee!"

At lunch, mine was the most crowded table, as I feigned a drawl, like a southern preacher and evangelized to the table, breaking up in fits of laughter,

"Most people join the church in their first year of life. It's not a choice for us -- it's human instinct. Most people on earth belong to our congregation and don't even know it. Ours is a simple faith, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Move forward, and you are doing His will. Even non-virgins or homosexuals can easily become Pedestrians. We'll take just about anybody, your poor, your sick, your weary, your weak, your smokers, your unemployed, drunk welfare mothers. For they are most often the best Pedestrians. You don't even need to speak English, you only need to be willing to stand on your own two feet, and march to the beat of your own drummer."

My friend Val made a 5 foot tall statue of feet in his Sculpture class, and donated it to my Parish. I told him that it would make a beautiful centerpiece for the church altar and that his kindness and generosity would be repaid by the eternal love of our Divine Savior, Walker.

Another friend, Kerry made Church bulletins and recruitment flyers in her computer class. She got an A for creativity. I handed them out at lunchtime. Even upperclassmen flocked to grab them each week. One issue I, The Minister declared Rockports, the walking shoe, as sacred uniform for all devote Pedestrians. Once considered "un cool," they began to appear all over school. Sometimes, after class I found a makeshift shrine outside my locker, consisting of a few pairs of worn Rockports, along with a lit devotional candle, and a picture of the Pope wearing Nikes under his robe.

In another church bulletin I proclaimed that being a Pedestrian is far better than sitting, standing and kneeling at conventional churches, mosques or synagogues. It was a great way to burn calories and improve cardiovascular fitness. Being a Pedestrian was great for the spirit and the body. Busy people with demanding extra curricular activities would most appreciate how easy it is to make time for working out in the Pedestrian Chapels. The Pedestrian God really was omnipresent, he and his place of worship was everywhere.

Some amused classmates eventually flocked to my confessional (lunch table) expressing feelings of shame and guilt. It was too cold to walk to school, they had to take the bus or subway. "Christ was always a Pedestrian, yes…but we live in modern times -- how did you get to and from the subway?" I probed while supressing a laugh. "Uh, I walked of course. Oh thank you. I feel so much better," an enlightened classmate gushed, "maybe I can make up for my sins at gym class today?" Yes, of course she could. I absolved her of her sins and gave her a penance of 3 laps around the sophomore class lounge.

Sometime much later that semester, it must have been Spring, Julie arrived at the big oak table with tears welling in her eyes. As her Pastor and a dedicated servant of my religious vocation, I felt obligated to counsel her, and asked if she was OK.

"I asked my Mother about being a Pedestrian…" and the tears started flowing, "and she said we're Presbyterians."

I put my hand on her shoulder and told her it was OK, that we understood. But she continued, "so I told her I wanted to convert, to become a Pedestrian, and she made me walk to school today."

At first, I thought of playing along. My parish was always open to converts, in fact the group walked daily around the track several times to hear my after lunch sermon had grown to monumental proportions. And I was their figurehead. I could feel an inevitable mudslide approaching. It wouldn't be fun anymore if Julie joined us. She really believed this nonsense.

"Julie," I said as kindly as possible, "being a Pedestrian means you can, well…you know you can be a follower. Or a leader. You can move slowly, or quickly. You can walk, or you can run. For some the Church of Christ the Pedestrian is simply exercise, and not a religion. For others it's clearly both. Why don't you go out for a walk during your free period. But remember the 1st commandment, 'Thou shalt halt for the red hand, and walk only after seeing the little man.' "

And she did.

Posted by Moxie at 10:45 AM | Comments (16)

January 2, 2006

comment thread

I'm overwhelmed by your comments in the past three posts (it's almost like a Pajamas Media ButtJam), so I thought this would be a good place to start an open thread for friendly conversation. Have at it.

Posted by Moxie at 7:13 PM | Comments (3)

tea and duchovny

Because the universe hates me, I just caught Tea Leoni on Ellen. Before my eyes started to bleed, Ellen showed a picture of Tea's "adorable" husband David Duchovny, and he looked like a moldy loaf of wonder bread.

I'm not too young to remember when he was hot, I just wonder if Tea wakes up each day and hates herself for falling for that momentary hot guy of 1990's thing. Beauty don't last, folks.

Eventually, even the men look like crap and have to ask their girlfriends which doc can do the best nip, tuck and botox.

Posted by Moxie at 4:27 PM | Comments (5)

inaugural 2006 post

I was really touched by all four of you who commented on my last post.

Including that wonderful man who calls himself Poker online. If there is anything a woman likes it's a poker.

So, all four of you have to wait another day for a real post. You aren't worth my time. It's best just to curl up with my Xmas present -- a lifesized George W. Bush doll. Yes, I've made him do naughty things with my Dick Cheney doll. My Bill Clinton doll is still trying to stick some cigars in barbie's privates. But I've already said too much.

Go sell crazy someplace else, we're all stocked up here.

Posted by Moxie at 2:50 PM | Comments (4)