We have to talk about something here.

First, let’s look at a jpeg. It’s worth 30,224 bytes, and possibly a thousand words.

Okay? Without context, what are we seeing: a rabbit two metres tall in an intersection, evidently being watched by a gaggle of cops. Pretty routine so far, I suppose. Oh, and a car not stopping to find out why a rabbit the size of Darth Vader is in an intersection. There must be more going on here….

Did I mention that this is an intersection in Glendale, California? That might add some context.

According to wikipedia.org [so it might be true], Glendale houses more than thirty competing streetgangs. And now a rabbit. I can’t guess, from the image, which gang Harvey belongs to; I also can’t guess that it doesn’t belong to at least one of them. In fact, that could explain all those nice white policemen keeping an eye on it.

It doesn’t, but it could.

Instead, the cops are on hand to pull people over for failing to stop their cars while Harvey Gangbanger walks up to them in an intersection. That is: the cops are stinging those who see a guy in a mask approach their cars, in Glendale.

Astonishingly, there were those who didn’t stop to get carjacked by a fucking rabbit while the cops sat around on motorbikes watching it happen.

The sting, as designed, placed Officer Tom Broadway in this stupid costume in order to entrap those trying to stay alive for another day in Glendale when those people failed to stop and let Harvey Gangbanger hop along his merry way. Presumably because there’s no other crime to fight in Gang Central LA. Curiously, the sting was declared something of a failure, Councilman John Drayman describing the whole idea as a ‘stupid traffic stunt…breathtakingly dangerous’.

Officially, the problem with the whole stupid idea was that ‘the idea of a giant rabbit—a total anomaly out in the roadway—is not exactly training our drivers to learn really anything’ [Drayman, again]. Unofficially: there’s a guy dressed as a fucking rabbit in the gangy capital of the world walking up to people’s cars.

Officially, from Officer Dennis Smith: ‘One of the violators said he was confused by it; he said he hopped in front of him.’ Unofficially: look at the jpeg; you’re in Glendale; an anonymous guy masked in a rabbit costume is approaching with his hands concealed.

Maybe I’m overthinking this a little, but the bestcase I can come up with is that you might be being approached by a guy in a rabbitsuit you shot in the eye sometime in the future; and that doesn’t really make it okay.

Look: I’m okay with cops, in the abstract. I get that we kinda need them, or something like them. And I’m brutally aware that most of them—over ninety-nine percent—are goodguys who hate the corrupt ones at least as much as I do. But this is blurring the edges a little, for me. I can’t quite assume that every cop involved in this stupid strategy is crooked; I just can’t assume that anyone involved is remotely selfaware, either. It doesn’t help that it’s no secret that orchestrated trafficstops like this—creating a situation designed to create a crime in the presence of the fuzz—is nothing more or less than a modern protection racket: thanks for breaking a meaningless law; please remit a fractional element of our budget forthwith. When it’s all about revenue, I have less tolerance for the fuckups performed during the process.

I do see the idea behind this stupid event. Easter. Which, in modern times, is somehow all about rabbits. Which I suppose I’m okay with: I don’t really give a damn about Easter’s original fertility LARP, let alone the revenantid purpose the ThouShaltNotStealians stole it for; and I like chocolate, so it can totally be about oviparous bunnies; let’s do that.

Here’s my question, though: if it’s about folding a stupid, seasonal costume into a traffic sting, does it have to be a rabbit? Could it be SantaClaus, or a leprechaun, or—for July the Fourth—a terrorist? Could we have in July a freedomfighter with anything from a musket to an AK47 approaching cars trapped by law in an intersection in Glendale, California, handing out fines to those too stupid to run the fucker over? Can we get that one worked into whatever List of Stupid Ideas Glendale PD have on their whiteboard? Can we? Huh? Because that’ll make for far funnier a NotS, I think.

You’re cops. Crimefighters. Go fight crime. Stop dicking around, pulling people over for thinking for themselves in reaction to situations you’ve invented, but for which no crime would have been possible. Also, don’t be surprised when idiotic actions like these lead some of us smarter civilians to develop a new strain of myxomatosis. Morons.

Of course, that’s just my opinion; I be rollin widdit.

I have to explain something here. But, first, people being fragile morons, I should explain something else. I’m okay with chicks.

Let’s analyse that sentence, to fully understand it. I’m good with female homosapiens who are okay with being called chicks. Okay, granted: at some age they kinda evolve from chicks into broads, and maybe even dames; but the colloquial element is what counts, wherein guys are guys and chicks are chicks. Let’s just take that as read.

I don’t see chicks as secondclassed people. I kinda see womyn as secondclassed people, since they’re boring morons. Strictly speaking, they’re not even people: they’re humyns. Dig? So, to put this into perspective, I for one am outraged—albeit in a passive, lazy capacity—that Joe Biden lobbied to protect those poor, fragile womyn from the constitution by exempting them from that silly Right to Face One’s Accuser in a Court of Law thing, womyn being too low on the evolutionary ladder to be in the room with any guy they’ve accused of assault, let alone to testify against him.

This isn’t about that. But it irks me a bit. To date, I’m undecided on what I’ll think of the likely eventual practise of dismissing guys [that is: myn] too fragile formally to accuse chicks [that is: chicks, since they're spunky and selfaware] of having assaulted them. It’ll happen one day. And, right now, I’m predicting that I’ll be fundamentally opposed to it, while finding it funny as hell.

What this is about is something I’ve been kinda silently expecting for about twelve years now. The hell back in 1998, when Viagra hit the streets, I mentioned over at gremlin.net how ironic it was that we’d finally developed Spanish Fly, but made it for guys. To be fair, that wasn’t precisely the case; to be honest, it made no sense to me that guys could exist who weren’t congenitally into teh secks. Thinking about it, that still makes no sense; maybe those guys are myn, and, in the event that they ever encounter teh secks, we’ll want to protect them from those they accuse.

Twelve years later, things are setting themselves up to change. A new drug being called flibanserin is also being called Viagra for Chicks. Or whatever you’re allowed to call something like that if you lack the freedom to call a spade a spade inherent in reporting for News of the Stoopid. Probably a nyw dryg fyr wymyn, yr symythyng.

Here’s the problem.

You know how, all assumptions about Spanish Fly aside, Viagra actually turned out to treat something of a disorder? Not this time. Because, you must understand, wymyn can’t be disordered. It’s possible that they can be dysyrdyrd, which may or may not already be a postmodern coverband specialising in FreeBird.

To quote uk.news.yahoo.com:

A Boehringer-funded survey released last week sought to show the emotional impact and distress caused by [Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder].

But it angered critics, who say it is evidence of the firm’s bid to market low female libido as a disorder, which threaten to pigeonhole the problem and make women feel deficient.

Oh noes; not that. Don’t feel deficient; not you, you special and unique snowflake, you. Buck up, Little Frigidaire; you’re just as Skadi, Deity of Fucking Frost, made you.

Okay, look—seriously: is anyone out there A) female, B) selfaware, and C) nonetheless threatened by pigeonholes marginalising a lack of sexdrive into a disorder? We all get that basic darwinian paradigms suggest that those not into sex have a curious habit of dying without reproducing their weird sexless genotypes into a new generation, right? So, the natural order kinda being to reproduce, is it possible that, just maybe, a disinterest in even just teh secks, prior to any proclivities regarding kidhaving, could be called something of a disorder? Is anyone catching a flaw in that logic?

Granted, I’m edging toward a slyppyry slope here, nearly into acknowledging the creatarded whimper that homosexuals stand no chance [through proper application, anyway] of breeding; but that’s its own thing. Also, inasmuch as it’s related, I don’t see teh ghey as the problem; if anything, it’s part of the solution.

The problem is these puritards who, apart from actionfiguring their imaginary friends to hate fags [Hi, Phelps; die in a fire!], furthermore inflict upon chicks that teh secks is teh bad, particularly before teh mawage. But for decades or centuries of that bullshit, I wonder what percentage less of chicks would even wanna hear about flibanserin. I’m thinking, roughly, a chunk.

All of which puts me in the delightful position of being surrounded by idiots.

Let’s look at the map. Over there, we’ve got the creatarded puritards, whimperblathering that teh secks is teh bad before the mawage of one myn and one wymyn; to the other side, we’ve got the bidenesque pitysluts demanding that a physiological inability to follow the natural order shouldn’t be a disorder. Oh, and: about the latter, where were these little helpertwonks twelve years ago, when I was the only one seeing a certain nonsequitur in developing Spanish Fly for guys. Granted: a guy not being into teh secks is about as disordered as anything I can think of; but, a chick being not into teh secks is a close runnerup, according to the last couple hundred thousand years of homosapient existence. So my question, however much it might hurt the feelings of a couple special and unique snowflakes, is: what’s the difference.

Where’s the outrage over Viagra, and why isn’t it equal to the outrage over flibanserin. Outside of scientology, I mean; I don’t count those people among the selfaware.

Did I ever tell you that the first use of scientology dates back to Allen Upward, who coined it in 1907 to mean junkscience? Let it never be said that I don’t teach you people cool things….

Where the hell was I….

Oh yeah: slamming wymyn [calm down, Biden: it's figurative; don't go hiding anyone from the constitution] and those who advocate for them by calling them frygylyc. That’s Imbecilese for fragilic, not frigid. In case there was any cynfysyyn. Prybybly.

To reiterate: I’m okay with chicks. Basic, selfaware female humans who get that a rose by any other name would lack real vowels. To me, it’s kinda tragic that, as an example, the WNBA is less appealing to the species than the NBA; in fact, that guys are more likely to watch sports makes it a little perplexing: guys can jiggle while dribbling down the court too, but that’s not something I plan my day around seeing. I’m not sure which guys are into seeing that; about all I know on the subject is that, reportedly, Gyd Hates Fygs. Or something.

Oh yeah. Speaking of chicks I’m okay with, this is a lawlfest. From the same article:

in a six-month trial [flibanserin] increased the number of satisfying sexual events to an average 4.5 per month from 2.8 in American women

I kinda lawled that one specifially to Hunter, mentioning that, at the least, with or without flibanserin, she was already ahead of the curve. Her response?

I think the solution is less ‘pill for women’ and more ‘training for men’.

I’m with her. There are chicks who don’t like teh secks, either from a lack of pills, input from puritards, or just an unfortunate history of running into guys who suck at it? Darwin says let’em die. If that’s where this goes, I guess I won’t be too bummed.

Of course, that’s just my opinion; now available without a prescription.

Technically, it didn’t suck; but it was annoyingly complex, and damned near impossible to write a theme around. So I’m back to using WordPress, which is less complex, easier to write themes for, and also doesn’t suck.

There’s no real NotS in this. I just figured I should write something from this year and have it show up on the index for people seeing that things have changed yet the hell again….

2+0+1+2=5; five in binary is 00000101; that can be shortened to 101, which looks like lol.

Because it’s a fucking joke.

Also in 1859, the first supercomputer was activated; it was called BigBen.

Yeah: both evolutionary biology and computer sciences have marched on a bit in the last 150 years.

To be fair, that specific moron was hoping only to divide Oprah’s potential $2.5billion by twenty-five percent of twelve percent of three hundred million, based on the largest amount Oprah might have [other sources say that she's got just over a billion, not quite two and a half], granting that, of three hundred million people in the US, twelve percent are black, of which about twenty-five percent are poor enough to be homeless or on the verge. For the tl;dr crowd, by the way: get out; brevity isn’t something I’m into; also, $2.5billion / [300million(12%*25%)] = ~$278. Compare that to the Earned Income Credit the IRS issue to, at this point, approximately everyone, or, worse, to the sort of money it would take, all other factors of reality being perfect, to feed and house and clothe nine million people, and someone, mathematically speaking, is an idiot.

But that’s all pretty specific. And you can’t be specific when telling everyone who wants to hear it or not that we need a redistribution of wealth in the US. Like, just in general. Skincolour aside. This isn’t necessarily about reparations and other getrichquick schemes; this is just the emotarded interest in RobinHooding the vast wealth of the rich and dumping it all on the poor. Without any explanation of actual figures, processes, or, really, logically defensible reasons.

So, let’s talk about that for a moment. Including details. Meaning numbers.

That the US are comprised, at this point, of about 300million people is a good number to start with. It’s our divisor. If that doesn’t make sense yet, you’re probably an idiot who wants to see a redistribution of wealth. But, if you’re still pretending to read all this, I’ll show you something lacking big words which at the least a grownup can help you with: X/300,000,000.

Got it? To be fair, and to keep the numbers as simple as possible, we’re gonna take all the money in the country [I assume; if the plan is actually to take all the money in the world, and give it equally to each of nearly seven billion people, we're each gonna be even more disappointed; whatever else the US is, it's one of the richest countries on the planet], then all the money in the country is going to be divided by three hundred million people. Right? Even democrats aren’t evil and brainless enough to be thinking that we should rob the rich and leave them with exactly nothing. Are they? To keep the numbers simple, we’ll suppose not.

With X/300,000,000, our task now is to find for X. And that gets a little tricky, since X isn’t a real number. Well, obviously it’s not: it’s a letter. But, in algebraic terms, it’s supposed to represent a number; what no one’s certain of now is precisely what that number would be.

The first problem we run into in looking for the dividend [for the morons, that's the number we're hoping to divide by the divisor, which itself is the X] is that the sum total of all the money in the country is a bit inflated. In fact, if you add up all the money possessed by all the people…I’ll put this a better way: if you went to the bank and cleared out your account, getting physical cash to hide in a shoebox in your closet, while each of 299,999,999 other people [let's pretend for the moment that every infant in the country has its own account too] do the same thing, we’ll all quickly learn that, in fact, there’s not enough money printed within the country to give each of us what we’re told we have, all at once. So that’s not gonna work. Even if it could, the sad fact is that we don’t have those numbers to play with; if anyone’s worked out a total number of all assets controlled by all people lumped into a total value for the US, I can’t find it. So it’s a dead end.

So, what’s that leave? I dunno. Probably the closest we can get to a real number is the GDP. That’s the Gross Domestic Product. And, as of 2007, it’s $13,843,825,000,000. Which is not only a large sack of cash, but as close as I can personally think reflects the amount of money in the country not theoretically spoken for by the deficit, since at the least the twits wanting this redistribution are also heavily into whimpering about the deficit caused nearly exclusively by the army’s invasion of Iraq. So those dollars are out of our equation.

So. We have numbers now. We have $13,843,825,000,000/300,000,000. Right? Anyone unclear about this? Anyone both unclear and thinking he’s got a better idea? You know what: I’ll allow that you might have a better idea; feel free to hit me with it on the messageboard.

So. $13,843,825,000,000/300,000,000=$46,000. Right? Get out your calculators; Start, Programmes, Accessories, Calculators. Thump in 13843825000000, hit /, thump in 300000000, and hit Enter. It’s forty-six thousand bucks.

Now, before most of us laugh about this, let’s allow that, to a lot of people, that sounds like a huge amount of cash. One in four people make little enough per year that making fifty thousand all at once would be a big deal. In fact, since, out of 300million people, just over 100million are kids [who probably haven't got bankaccounts], what we’re really talking about is roughly $150,000 per family, to the extent that a family is on average two grownups and a parasite. But, since that’s hard to guess about, and since it doesn’t change anything in the actual numbers: to hell with it. We’re each getting close to fifty thousand bucks, in total assets, once we’ve grabbed up all the wealth and handed it out all fairly.

Right? That is fair, isn’t it? I mean, we’re talking about fifty thousand bucks. If I get that, it’s fair. I’m even kinda used to it: in adjusted dollars, it’s about what I got in allowance annually as a kid. So, to get fifty grand just all at once, it’s perfectly fair; people currently making more than that per year were stupid for making the effort to get paid. Fuck’em.

So. Here’s your cash. Whatever money you had before we took it away from you, here’s your fifty grand. It’s yours. We’ll even pretend that the congress didn’t send the IRS after a third of it.

So. Now what. Whatcha gonna do tomorrow. Tell ya what I’m gonna do…well, actually, not a lot. I’ll keep doing what I do. Write books, think up bumperstickers, and whatever; that should work out nicely, since each of you has fifty thousand bucks now: no more excuses that five bucks for a bumpersticker is something you can’t afford. I’m all for this plan, suddenly.

So, you buy a bumpersticker, losing five bucks. I gain…rather less than five bucks, since a large percentage goes to all the little people who stock and market and print and mail and…are they still doing that? They each have fifty grand now. Did they quit their jobs? Surely not for fifty grand. That would be stupid. Uh…wouldn’t it?

How about the people who make my coffee at Starbucks. Can I give them my four bucks for coffee, or have they retired to a beachfront property on fifty grand? How about the servers across the street at the pub? Can I give them twenty for a burger and coffee, or are they buying an island in the South Pacific somewhere? Damnit. I’m suddenly not sure I like this idea anymore.

Okay look. To be real about it, fifty grand wouldn’t change anyone’s life individually if he nearly won the lottery, getting five out of six numbers, and ended up with a prize this small. A few idiots would quit their jobs and go broke in a month or two; but let’s assume that the country as a whole isn’t that dumb. It’s a stretch; but we can dream. Thusly, I can still get coffee and you can still get bumperstickers, and it’s all kinda zerosum overall. So, you give me five bucks, retaining $49,995 [I'm cheating up from $46,146 now, for easier math], and I get, like, an extra dollar as my cut, pushing me to $50,001. Now I buy coffee, and I have $49,997. Works for me.

That’s tomorrow.

The next day, more people buy sitckers; I buy more coffee. And so on. I make a dollar and spend four until I’m broke. Or, really, I make a dollar every time each of you buys a sticker, and buy coffee when I’m thirsty. If I keep track of that impossible equation, I’ll stay at or above fifty grand in my pocket; if not, I’ll be in favour of redistributing the wealth again next time, because I’m a fucking idiot who can’t manage money.

Of course, next time, we won’t be pretending that I don’t deserve to have the sixty thousand or so that I’ve got by now since, while I did inherit fifty thousand effortlessly: so did you.

So. You wanna take all the money in the country, being close to fourteen trillion, and hand it to three hundred million people, giving each close to fifty thousand? Go ahead. If you can talk everyone else into it and make it happen: go ahead. But understand that, if you’re currently poor because you’re an idiot who thinks that All the Money in the Country somehow gets you enough to live all comfy for ever and ever, if you’re currently poor because the mathemagics are beyond your little brain’s ability to understand, then you’re gonna be right back here again next year. And, next year, we who have more than we started with this year in our pockets are gonna play the Fool Me Once Card and tell you to go to hell.

For those who think the better system would be simply to issue fifty thousand to everyone annually, to spend without working at Starbucks on whatever you can buy at places other than Starbucks: you’re stupider than the rest; please move to the United Shithead Socialist Republic and leave the rest of us alone. Or, you know, to Boulder. Whatever’s closer.

Of course, that’s just my opinion; now it’s yours, for free.

The actual point is that Hunter went off on a whimper that I used to be different. In the sense that I used to do more stuff, more often, than I do today. Who knows where she gets this shit. Also, I used to be meaner than I’ve become. Which might in fact be a valid whimper.

By coincidence, I happened across something I threw together in 2001…seven years ago now. I can’t really tell if it was meaner, or funnier, or either to any degree. I kinda remember now writing it all out and then deciding that, NotS being kinda multinational, it was a little silly to throw something online which only those in Denver would stand a chance of relating to. Now that the following is so outdated that no one can relate…I guess everyone’s equally fucked. So. Here’s this thing I wrote seven years ago, when there were still twintowers in New York, and never released to the public.

Maybe Hunter’ll shut up for a couple minutes while she’s reading it….

<TELEVISION>

Have I mentioned recently that I have no time at all for television?
Okay: that’s not entirely true. I probably have time for television; all I lack now is tolerance.
It’s all the same. And none of it is of any interest to me. Or, really, to anyone qualified to read this whole article. So, for those whom are qualified to read this whole thing, lemee show you the sort of thing you’re missing on television at the moment….

2 KWGN: Buffy the Vampire Slayer [R]
Buffy is killed by something other than a vampire, is resurrected, and complains about homework for a while.
3 KTVD: Saved by the Bell [R]
Screech denies rumours that he once worked with Fred, Daphne, Velma, and Scoobs.
4 ABC: ABC News Tonight
Exciting exposé on how much ABC suck now that Disney have bought them.
5 SHO: Movie — Where the Tits Are ’86
Two losers waste their lives on a beach, trying to get supermodels to look at them. Rated R.
6 PBS: Pledge Drive
We suck with money; please help us bring you even more Red Dwarf episodes.
7 CBS: 60 Minutes
Exciting exposé on how much CBS suck now that AOL have bought them.
8 GOV: Community Affairs
Less interesting than CSpan, and paid for by taxes.
9 NBC: Nightline
Exciting exposé on how much NBC suck now that Microsoft have bought them.
10 KTVJ: Cooking for Dumbasses
Learn to boil water the safe and easy way
11 DSC: Dinosaurs
We have no idea what we’re talking about; watch us anyway.
12 PBS2: Another Pledge Drive
Thinking about it, we might not have to beg for money if we didn’t have two different fucking channels….
13 KDVR: Carmen Sandiego
We lost the bitch again.
14 HBO: Boxing
Two idiots you’ve never heard of sweat on each other for a while.
15 STARZ: Movie — Where the Tits Are Part Two
Two new losers waste their lives on a beach, trying to get supermodels to look at them. Rated R.
16 MAX: Movie — Fuck the Plot: Just Watch the Tits
A million supermodels waste their lives on a beach. Rated R.
17 PXC: Paid Programming
Save time and money making salads with minimal intelligence.
18 ENC: Movie — The Titless
Two losers waste their lives on a beach, never once mentioning tits. Rated PG.
19 KRMT: Marilyn Hickey
Denver’s ugliest ditz blathers on about how happy she is with Jesus Christ inside her today.
20 UPN: Star Trek
Star Trek, Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Enterprise; whatever. If the phrase ‘set phasers for stun’ is in it, you’ll watch it, won’t you….
21 LEASED: Paid Programming
We know you have five hundred chamois; but wait’ll you see this….
22 PUB: Public Access
Out-of-focus bullshit from people who aren’t as entertaining as they think they are.
23 MTV: Real World
The gang sit about, complaining that no one shows videos anymore.
24 USA: Movie — Where the Tits Are ’86 [Edited for Television]
Two losers waste their lives on a beach, trying to get unseen supermodels to look at them. Rated R.
25 AMC: Star Wars IV: A New Hope
Does it really take thirty years to tell a fucking story?
26 FSN: Sports in Denver
What other cities? Broncos, Avalanche, Rockies; we’ve got ‘em all.
27 FX: Son of the Beach
ManCow guest stars, and beats the living shit out of Howard Stern.
28 NICK: Saturday Night
The late Chris Farley falls on the late Phil Hartman, as scripted by the late Lorne Michaels. Okay: Lorne Michaels is still alive; we’re just not sure why.
29 DIS: The Disney Report
Why ABC stinks now that Disney have bought them.
30 APL: Crocodile Hunter
Steve realises that the only way out of his contract is to be eaten by something.
31 TOON: Freakazoid
We know you’ve seen this episode; but, really: what else is on?
32 TLC: A Baby Story
Who cares….
33 FOXFAM: Roswell Conspiracies
Were aliens responsible for the JFK assassination?
34 ESPN: PreGame Annoyances
John Elway pimps his car dealerships.
35 CNBC: SquawkBox
Yup: SwawkBox.
36 HIS: All about Hitler
Christianity’s patron theocrat.
37 HN: Headline News
We thought you needed one more place to find out what you had no control over today.
38 CNN: News
HN? Get real: we’re CNN; we win.
39 HGTV: Quilts N Shit
Make your dismal little house look like a dismal little mansion.
40 TNT: ER
What the fuck was Clooney thinking when he signed on for Batman & Robin?
41 A&E: Biography
More Shit about Hitler.
42 FNC: Fox News Live
Top story this hour: Fox might suck less if they concentrated on only one channel….
43 LIFE: Men Suck
Men suck a lot; but we’re not dykes [hosted by Oprah Winfrey]
44 CMT: Toh Hoh Hyuck
The show even Roy Clark turned down.
46 ESPN2: The John Elway Hour
Please buy a fucking car. Please?
47 FOOD: Cooking Live Primetime with Sara Moulton
Fuck it: Subway’s still open.
48 SCI: Dark Shadows
We know you hate this show; we also know you’ll sit through it so you won’t missing the opening of Quantum Leap.
49 TBS: Little House on the Prairie
Ted Turner guest stars as the only guy Bill Gates is afraid of.
50 KCEC: ¡Despierta América!
Gringos suck, verdad?
51 TVGC: Carlton Sheets
Special Guest: Fran Tarkington
52 QVC: Quilts, Quilts, and More Quilts
The meaning of life involves quilts, you know….
53 KWHD: Benny Hinn
Bullshit about deities from a guy with a bad accent.
54 EDU: Educational Access
What’s this button do?
55 PUB: Public Access
Yeah: what’s that button do?
56 GOV: Government Access
Ever wondered why we have a deficit?
57 PUB: Public Access
My GoBot Collection
58 PUB: Public Access
Why My Mom Sucks
59 PUB: Public Access
My Mom Threw away My GoBots on Me.
60 KMAS: Noticiero Telemundo
¡Hablas Español o Muertas!
61 BRAVO: Off Air
62 ODSY: World of Faith and Values
Believe in bullshit and be happy and broke.
63 CSPAN2: Why CSPAN Alone Wasn’t Enough
Stocks you can’t afford, and shit.
64 iN1: To Be Announced
66 VH1: Behind the Music
Guys you thought were dead complain about the lack of available videos.
67 TCM: Roughly Sucking [NR]
Who cares….
68 E!: Celebrity Homes
See where you could live if you turned off the fucking television and did something.
69 BET: Crackers and Shit; Know What I’m Sayin, Beeyatch?!?
Ten million years of white oppression.
70 OXY: More Shit Men Do to Fuck with Us
Hosted by Candice Bergen.
71 COURT: Trial Coverage
Whatever’s on, it’s worse than Judge Fucking Judy.
72 COMEDY: The Daily Show
The CoHosts wonder why Jon Stewart isn’t at his desk.
73 OLN: Bicycling
Shit you could be doing if you weren’t watching television.
74 TRAVEL: Travellers [TV-G]
Get off your ass and do something!
75 MSNBC: MSNBC Live
This just in: no one needs this much fucking news.
76 MPLEX: Candleshoe [G]
You are getting very sleepy….
77 GALA: En Casa de Lucy
For Mexicans who can’t be bothered to learn English before trading their lives for television.
78 TVLAND: Dick That Dyke
Just shoot me.
95 CSPAN: Washington Journal Marathon
…through the End of Time
96 WGN: Wayans, or Some Shit
A dozen Wayans lament the loss of Jim Carrey.
99 TD: GoofTroop
Evidence against the existence of deities.
120 NOGG: Sesame Too
Oh the pain….
121 D-KIDS: Timmy and Lassie
Not now, Girl; I’m watching this shit.
123 GTV: Montery Cookin’ with John Pisto
We’ll git t’ waterboilin’ later on a spell….
125 NWI: News from the Fucking Moon
The Lunar Report
128 BTV: Money Wise
Here’s a hint: don’t invest in BTV
135 MTV2: Videos
Nevermind: it’s just people in shiny clothes with speech impediments.
137 TRIO: TRIO Concerts
Shiny Dumbasses Live.
161 GAME: Press Your Duck
Rerun.
162 BBC: BBC World News
Blimey: the Yanks are watching? Cheers! Perhaps now we’ll get some bloody funding!
180 BRAVO: Paid Programming
You’ll get a new chamois about every other month.
182 OVATN: Dawn at Dusk
Why is this on?
183 STYLE: Millennium Fashion
Get off your ass, and you could wear this shit too.
201 D-HOME: Portrait
For a change….
215 GAS: Finders Keepers
Watchers weepers.
220 DHC: Healthy Shit
You broke your VCR, didn’t you….
222 HEALTH: Yoga Zone
Hamstrings, traction, and you.
230 TBN: Rod Parsley
Sermon: My Fifteen Minutes
231 INSP: John Hagee Today
And tomorrow. And until the lord recalls his ass.
240 INT’L: Martian Life
Rerun
271 D-CIV: Skip Tracers on Death Row
Read a fucking book….
272 D-SCIE: Science Daily
Pipebombs and your school….
273 NGC: National Geographic Today
We’re really, really sorry about that Archaeoraptor liaoningensis thing….
274 D-WING: Wings and Shit
If it’s an aeroplane, we’ll make you sick of it.
275 BIO: Biography Extra
Hitler’s last trip to the market.
276 HIS-I: Ancient Almanac
Can you believe there were once no televisions?
294 TECHTV: Screen Savers Live
No computer? Here: fall asleep to this….

Ugh. Channels 401 [FSWO] through 853 [PLBY] omitted due to apathy.
I’m trying to remember the last time I saw something on television which was actually worth watching. As in worth remembering to tune in instead of sleeping.
Jerry Springer is almost entertaining. Although I’ve analysed it, and worked out that watching one idiot trying to steal some worthless bitch from another idiot looks a lot like an anthropomorphic pennystock trade.
SciFi could be entertaining if they’d get rid of most of their shows. It’s sad when the best thing a channel offers is The Incredible Hulk, 1981.
And when, exactly, did The Nashville Network become The National Network? And is a Miami Vice Marathon really preferable to I Caught Me These Fish, with Jessup and Clem? Probably not.
And something else: why have we got eight hundred fifty-three fucking channels–don’t answer yet; that’s only the first half of the question–and yet only a couple hundred are even receiving a signal? Where are the other six hundred? Would anything of interest be showing on those if they were actually on the air?
Probably not.
As it is, you’re now capable of channelsurfing until you catch the same infomercial on three different channels, all running within five seconds of each other. Is that sad, or what….
Okay: this NotS is almost as entertaining as television now.
I’m shutting it the hell off….
</TELEVISION>
Thank hell for YouTube.com. I guess. Of course, that was just my opinion, seven years ago; I guess it still is.

In any case, that people call these twerps KingStoopids is a bit of a coincidence; it’s got nothing to do with News of the Stoopid. Or, it had nothing do to with it until tonight.

Tonight, at about two in the morning, Hunter reminded me that she was out of soda. Which kinda sucks at two in the morning, since everything’s closed. Unless you count KingStoopids, which I really don’t. I’ve had a problem with these imbeciles for a while: they stay open all night, in the sense that they don’t lock every door; they lock the main doors, requiring you to go in through the customer service door, which is on a noncripplefriendly hinge, go back out through the automated sliding doors, grab a cart, and sprint back inside [fun, when I've got my cane that night] before the automated doors can close on you. Then of course you get to move the cart around all the boxes they’re restocking things with, fill it up, and go deal with a damned bot.

The bot’s the worst part. I’d always figured that KingStoopids were just trying to save money, having this ridiculous DIY ‘droid which understands even less than the meatbot clerks you see in there during the day.

So that’s the setup here. We walked over to KingStoopids for soda and stuff, raced to get the cart into the store through the automated exit, got the soda, got some munchies, looked at every checkout lane to see that they were all closed because no one works there, tried to get Old Bob the checkerbot to understand that, yes, really, that was one case of soda, and it’s in the bag now, and this is another just like it, and damnit I already put the first one in the bag, and you know what: just go download enough selfawareness to compete with the computer in my watch, okay?

All of this, of course, during Day Three of a decent headache. Hunter fought with the bot most of the time; I was only involved when it demanded my ‘loyalty card’ [because I have the utmost loyalty to a company which figures that, if I'm awake at night, I deserve only this bothersome machine] and my creditcard; she actually tricked the damned thing into believing that the soda in the bag was in the bag.

Now it’s time to go. So we try to. Except that, suddenly, KingStoopids are in a hiring mood. Meet Eugene.

EUGENE is the Night Manager. Not that you can differentiate his goofy little golfshirt from anyone else’s. Except that, astoundingly enough, Eugene is actually in the store. And he has this to say….

EUGENE: Hang on; I need to search your backpacks.

I guess I should mention that, since we walked over to KingStoopids [Hunter likes to brag to ecotards in SUVs that, by walking to the store, she's doing more to save the planet than they are], we’d brought along a pair of backpacks in which to carry the soda and stuff home. And why not: every time we make the mistake of hoping all to hell that tonight’ll be the night that we get a meatbot instead of the Computer That Casio Forgot to ring everything up, we bring along backpacks. There are no signs outlawing them; no one’s ever cared before. Until tonight. So, let’s take this massively entertaining [if infuriating] dialogue from the top….

EUGENE: Hang on; I need to search your backpacks.
GREMLIN: No thanks.
EUGENE: What’s that?
GREMLIN: I said I’m a big fan of the constitution.

I talk fast, but I walk faster. By now, I’m out the automated door. Unfortunately, Eugene has hurried up behind me and blocked Hunter, who’s pushing the cart with the backpacks where the kid would go if we had a kid; it’s probably best that we haven’t got a kid, since no one wants Eugene searching an infant. The pervert.

I light a cigarette and turn back to see this criminal bodily prevent Hunter from leaving the store. She gives me a look. You know the look. It’s the one you get from a disabled veteran diagnosed with PostTraumatic Stress Disorder, like Hunter is, when a criminal is kidnapping her.

EUGENE: I still need to search your backpacks.
GREMLIN: Have you got a searchwarrant?
EUGENE: I don’t need one.

I wave to Hunter to go around the idiot.

HUNTER: He won’t let me out; I’m being restrained.
EUGENE: I just need to search your backpacks.
HUNTER: I’m being detained against my will.
EUGENE: No you’re not. You can go. You’ll just have to leave your backpacks here.
HUNTER: I’m not leaving my property with you.
EUGENE: Then empty them.
HUNTER: I can’t. They’re already empty.
EUGENE: Did you drive here tonight?

Here’s where Eugene looks around a bit for my car, and for my numberplates, and for the ability to call the cops to pull us over if we escape our hostage situation with our empty backpacks.

HUNTER: No; we walked; hence the empty backpacks.
EUGENE: Well, I need to search them.

At this point, I decide it’ll be fun to kinda walk halfway back inside through the automated exit with my cigarette. Sure, it’s illegal; but, in my experience, kidnappers aren’t wont to call the police.

GREMLIN: We all have needs.
EUGENE: Look. It’s our store.
GREMLIN: Good for you.
EUGENE: That gives me the right to search your backpacks in our store.
GREMLIN: Not legally.

He turns back to Hunter, approaching her menacingly. An adverb I use specifically, since Menacing Behaviour is in this state ameliorated to Class Five Felonious Assault. Which matters little, while we’ve got this plebeian on kidnapping: that one’s federal.

Hunter backs away from him and he grabs the backpacks, dropping them to the floor and unzipping the hell out of them to search the air inside. After a moment, shyly:

EUGENE: That’s weird.

Hunter grabs the backpacks and puts them back where thank zeus we haven’t got a kid for this communist to search.

HUNTER: Now. What’s your name.

Hunter traipses over to grab a commentcard thing. Which is funny, since I’ve got one in my jacket from the last time we were here; I’d meant to tell Corporate how thrilled I’m not that I have to sprint to get the cart in through the automated exit before I can dodge boxes finding stuff the bot has laughable trouble ringing up correctly. Maybe Hunter knows I’ve got one, and wants a second one for the extra room needed to tell Corporate that the FBI are likely to drop by to discuss their compliance in Eugene the KingStoopids Representative’s crimes.

About that:

EUGENE: Gene. I’m the Night Manager.

So. Eugene N Manager. I like it when one’s surname happens to reflect his vocation like that.

Hunter has the commentcard now.

HUNTER: The last name?

Instead of the criminal identifying himself properly, he takes another step toward her. Somewhat aggressively, I thought. Possibly to search her pockets and girlparts for pineapples. And it’s then that I remember that my mobilephone records video. I began filming at 3.24:

GREMLIN: All right: go.

He says nothing for a few seconds. Maybe he’s trying to work out whether a guy who shoplifts air can afford a mobilephone which records video. Who knows.

GREMLIN: You, ah…you illegally searched my backpack why?
EUGENE: I didn’t illegally search—
GREMLIN: I didn’t give you permission to search my backpack; you searched it.
EUGENE: Look around. Whatever you bring in here….
GREMLIN: …becomes your property? Seriously? That’s your excuse…?
EUGENE: Yeah, it—
GREMLIN: That’s enough for my lawyers; thanks.
EUGENE: [eugenic mumbling]

If you watch the video, you’ll see the kidnapper finally see the error of his ways and step aside so Hunter can go be a free disabled veteran warhero chick again. Nice of him, wannit. I just really wish I’d thought of the phonecam earlier, and filmed the twerp breaking laws from the beginning; these headaches wreck my brain. Though, I suppose that the CCTV within KingStoopids got most of it; that I’ve got the timestamp of when I started filming should give us an idea where to look within the footage which, ironically, Eugene was probably thinking about the whole time he was expecting to find something stolen during his kidnapping and illegal search. But, he should be happy that a crime was filmed in any case, just as I’m happy that it was he who perpetrated it.

Here’s what I’d really like to understand, thinking about it: supposing I or Hunter had stolen something, and supposing Eugene had found it during his illegal search and potential seizure, what good would that have done the drooling moron? It would be inadmissible, after all; at best, the security video in the store would show him stealing something from our backpacks, without defensible cause. What in hell was the moron thinking in the first place?

UPDATE: Having got some feedback now, from various sources, my lawyers and others have compiled a list of potential crimes within Eugene’s single act. They are:

Kidnapping
Assault
Malicious mischief
Theft
Extortion
Coercion
Sexual assault
Destruction of evidence
Conspiracy

The explanations behind the list are varied; the sexual assault stems from Eugene failing to intimidate me and instead trying to intimidate Hunter, based on her gender; the conspiracy comes from the apparent plan [and possible success] of blaming his crimes on corporate policy; et sequitur.

I’m currently waiting for a response from Corporate to the EMail alerting them to ‘their’ policy and its effects; if it’s goofy enough, there may be more here later.

ANOTHER UPDATE: No real news yet; but I got round to mentioning this at gremlin.net with some extra information: http://gremlin.net/main/2008/06/04/kingstoopids  

YET ANOTHER UPDATE: The actual manager of the store got the EMail we sent within minutes of the event itself. Meaning that we sent it within minutes; she got it after a week. So she called, told me some neat stuff on the phone, told me more neat stuff when we went into the store during her shift, and promised to tell me still more neat stuff as she discovers it. I’m now plotting out http://KingStoopids.com [at the moment, it redirects back here; eventually, it'll have its own site] where I can go into detail without going over too many megabytes per page. So, watch for that in the future….

Of course that’s just my opinion; and that of my legal department, now that they’re awake.