Great Moments in Wingnut Outrage

Sadly, No!:

The short version: wingnut blogger gets his knickers in the customary  wad over a sign he sees at a protest that says SASQUATCH ISRAEL. Because, you know, leftists hate Israel and therefore they think its right to existence is a myth, and so they're calling it Sasquatch. Or something.

Only problem is, what the sign really says is...wait for it: SASQUATCH IS REAL.

The funniest part is the wingnut's pissy little response when he's caught out.

In Which I Find a Small Plot of Common Ground With Beck and Palin

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As we all know from our study of right-wing doctrine, the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution is there to protect people we agree with from criticism.

Just ask radio talk show host Dr. Laura Schlessinger, who responded to criticism of a segment in which she repeatedly used "the n-word" by bravely announcing her resignation, claiming it was so she could "regain her First Amendment rights."

Or, as former Gov. Sarah Palin put it in her Twitter feed (her favored means of communication with her supporters), Dr. Laura "Steps aside bc her 1st Amend.rights ceased 2exist thx 2activists trying 2silence isn't American,not fair." (It's a worrisome sign that I spend too much time on the Internet that I actually understood that.)

So we have to wonder: When Palin responded to Florida pastor Terry Jones' plan to burn copies of the Quran by saying that "book burning is antithetical to American ideals," and that the planned Quran-burning was "insensitive and an unnecessary provocation  much like building a mosque at ground zero," isn't she trying to repress poor Rev. Jones' rights?

When Glenn Beck, no stranger to fantasies of repression and persecution himself, said, "Burning the Quran is like burning the flag or the Bible. ... None of those who are thinking about killing us will be affected, but our good Muslim friends and neighbors will be saddened. It makes the battle that they face inside their own communities even harder," wasn't he trying to rob Rev. Jones and his Dove World Outreach Center (ironic name, that) of its right to protest?

Of course not. And in the spirit of giving credit where credit is due, we welcome Brother Glenn and Sister Sarah into the light, even if they may have, as we shall see, only gotten halfway there.

Pastor Jones and his little flock of dingbats have every right under the First Amendment to set fire to as many copies of the Quran as they can lay their grubby little hands on. Just as hatemonger Fred Phelps and his loony followers at the Westboro Baptist Church have every right to picket the funerals of Americans killed in Iraq and Afghanistan, claiming that their deaths are a result of God's judgment on America for being too tolerant of gay people. Just as other protesters have a right to burn the American flag, and militant atheists have a right to set fire to a stack of Bibles. The First Amendment also protects speech that makes me uncomfortable or just plain ticks me off.

However, the text of the amendment most certainly does not read, "You can say any damn fool thing you want, and everyone has to be nice to you." Which is why we also have a right to look at all of these people: Jones, Phelps, flag-burners and all, and say, in so many words, "You are a pack of bloody idiots."

We all have the right to point out that this Jones character is a publicity-grubbing media leech who's fastened onto the pulsing vein of anti-Muslim hatred running through this country right now and is sucking on it for all he's worth, milking it for every last drop of sweet, sweet attention he can slurp down. And he's being aided by a compliant corporate media world that tut-tuts in feigned outrage while beating a path to the door of this cut-rate charlatan hoping for just one more inflammatory quote.

I also have the right to point out that comparing the destruction of what Muslims regard as a sacred text to building a community center and mosque on a busy commercial block in Manhattan to be a particularly dimwitted comparison, even from someone who wears her ignorance like a tiara. Unless you're saying that the building is almost certain to cause a violent backlash. (And of course we all know right-wingers abhor violence, right?)

Or unless you're planning to sanctify the entire five-block radius around ground zero in some way, in which case you're going to need to get rid of the two strip clubs, the tattoo parlor, the nail salon and the off-track betting parlor in the immediate vicinity. Could get expensive, buying up all that New York real estate.

The First Amendment: We may not always like what it leads to, but then, freedom is not for pussies.

At Least They're Getting Out of the House

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Back in the days before writing books began to take up so much of what I used to call "leisure time," I played a lot of computer games.

By computer games, I mean games on the PC, not a "console" like the PlayStation or Nintendo. I spent hours flying through the virtual skies battling Nazi bombers, Russian MiG-29s and German World War I Triplanes.

I invaded Europe at the head of a German Army, liberated it at the head of an American one, stormed castles and led my legions against the Celts. I conquered the planet several times over while advancing my civilization to spacefaring capability, after which I proceeded to conquer the galaxy as well.

I mowed down entire divisions of demonic baddies and fragged thousands of virtual bad guys behind an array of science-fictional weapons, keeping one eye on my "health bar" to make sure that the damage I was taking from my enemies didn't reach fatal levels that would necessitate hitting the restart button.

Yes. I was a complete geek. Still am, in some ways.

But I will say one thing in my defense, pathetic as it may be: I never played a "dating simulation."

Dating simulations are apparently quite the rage these days in Japan. One very popular such game for the Nintendo DS hand-held gaming system is called "Love Plus."

In "Love Plus," the player takes on the persona of a boy who transfers to a new high school, where you/he meets three comely young lasses. You/he picks one, pursues her by having various (apparently nonromantic) encounters and conversations. If all goes well, the "girl" eventually "declares her feelings" for you. Or for him.

That's where a lot of these games end. But, according to an article in Discovery News online, in "Love Plus" that's just the beginning. You have to maintain the relationship by paying attention to your new virtual amour, conversing with her, paying her compliments, and all of the hard work that goes into actual romance.

It's sort of like those "virtual pets" that were all the rage a few years ago, except with cute Japanese girls with big eyes and schoolgirl uniforms who get pouty and dump you if you don't pay attention to them, rather than dying like the pets.

I know what you're probably thinking, but I haven't read anything that indicates that the (ahem) physical aspects of a dating relationship are modeled in the game, so I assume that that part is left out. I am, for some reason, extremely relieved by this.

As all guys know, if you have a girlfriend, even a virtual one, eventually she's going to start complaining if you never take her on vacation. Well, thanks to Japanese ingenuity, the "Love Plus" Romeo has an answer for his silicon sweetheart.

It seems that the seaside resort of Atami, southwest of Tokyo, has developed a partnership with game company Konami, maker of "Love Plus," to sponsor vacation trips where young aficionados of the game can frolic, after a fashion, with their chosen one.

Various locations around the resort have embedded bar codes which the humans can scan, which generates a photo of them and their virtual dream girl in the location on the player's game machine or smart phone.

"Look," a 23-year-old told a Discovery News reporter, "it's like I'm in a snapshot with her." He then proudly "showed off his iPhone display, featuring himself next to the image of a doe-eyed cartoon character named Rinko, a smiling high school girl."

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Or shudder. I think I'll do all three. On the other hand, I suppose if you're going to spend all your time on a computer game, it's better to make love, not war.

But it does raise a question:

Advocates of stricter controls or warnings on video and computer games insist that too much virtual violence can lead to more violence in real life. Too much time playing "shooter" games, they insist, may turn players into remorseless hyper-efficient killing machines wreaking havoc in the halls of the local high school like the Terminator.

So would the converse apply to "dating simulations"? Would reaching the highest level of "Love Plus" make you an awesome boyfriend?

Sadly, the world may never know.

I Wanna Be Unbranded

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O K, so there is apparently this TV show called "Jersey Shore." From what I can tell, the show's basic premise is to put a group of vapid, dimwitted and marginally attractive young people of Italian heritage into a beach house for the summer and record them getting drunk, getting into fistfights, and generally behaving in the fashion you might expect of vapid, dimwitted and marginally attractive young people turned loose with a lot of cash and a license to act like inebriated baboons for our amusement.

The show is apparently quite popular, which is not surprising given the fact that what American TV viewers seem to crave most these days is to watch people to whom they can feel morally superior.

One of the instant celebrities created by the show is a diminutive lass named Nicole Polizzi, who goes by the nickname "Snooki." Baby-faced, raven-haired, and with a 4-foot 9-inch body that looks as if it was pumped into her clothing under extreme pressure, Snooki is to bad behavior what Michelangelo was to interior decoration.

Space restrictions prohibit detailing all of Snooki's antics, but they include drunkenness, disorderly conduct and a criminal charge for "annoying people" (which is apparently a crime in Jersey. Who knew?). Suffice it to say, as we do down South, that this girl acts like she's got no raising at all. Bless her heart.

Yet, as so often happens with even B-list celebrities, Snooki is showered with gifts and swag from various fashion houses. One thing that has always mildly annoyed me about our celebrity-obsessed culture is the way companies send lots of free stuff to people who can afford to buy it.

It's a marketing tool, of course; companies think that if someone sees, for example, Angelina Jolie with one of their handbags or scarves, women will experience an overwhelming desire to run right out and buy that very item, and to heck with the cost. Depressingly, they're often right.

In the case of Snooki, however, we're seeing a new phenomenon: Companies are sending the tiny trollop their competitor's products, in the hopes that viewers will see her sleazing around with the other guy's handbags on her shoulder and associate the competing brand with trashiness and tackiness. It's called either "pre-emptive product placement" (PEPP) or "unbranding."

I've got to tell you, folks, every time I think American inventiveness and innovation is dead, something like this comes along to let me know it isn't. I mean, this is absolutely brilliant, in an evil-genius sort of way.

The possibilities are endless. Can we expect to see BP start running commercials showing disgraced former CEO Tony Hayward filling up at a Chevron station? Or maybe the loathsome Jesse James, who broke the heart of that sweet Sandra Bullock, could revive his career by doing ads for, say, Warner Brothers, in which he gives double thumbs up reviews to movies by, say, Paramount?

Which leads us, as always, to the question on your Humble Columnist's mind whenever he comes across a new cultural phenomenon: How can he cash in on this?

If the e-mails and comments I get on the Pilot's website are any indication, I occasionally make some people unhappy, some angry, and on a few occasions, I make people nearly insane with fury. This is particularly true of wingnuts, yay-hoos, bigots, neo-fascists, mouth-breathers and morons.

By the way, long live Rachel Maddow! Keith Olbermann rules! Viva George Soros! Viva Michael Moore! Viva the New Socialist Order!

There. With the groundwork done, and the proper parties whipped into a fine froth of rage, let's get down to some serious unbrandin'. Dell, Gateway, Asus Computer: Any of you guys want to bump up your sales around here, send me a new Apple laptop or an iPad. I'll be sure to mention it in this space.

Lexus, Porsche, Mercedes: If I find a new Beemer in the driveway, I'll be sure to drive it everywhere, tailgating, honking the horn, and leaving the turn signal on for miles and miles and miles.

If the fine guitar-makers at Gibson want to send me a new Fender Stratocaster, or if the folks at Fender want to send me a new Gibson Les Paul, I promise to play that sucker so loud and long that the very sight of your competitor's product will make people curl into a ball and whimper.

This had better work.

STORM SURGE Reviewed!

Over at his blog Not The Baseball Pitcher, Randy Johnson gives STORM SURGE a great review. Thanks, Randy!

Je Suis Un Rock Star?

More of the usual selective outrage over "tone" from the Pilot's website:

I don't understand why Dusty Rhodes [sic] has so many nasty comments to readers who have an opinion. The Pilot has allowed him to have a "rock star" attitude and a forum to spout it. It doesn't read as political intelect [sic] Mr. Rhodes [sic], but rather, as hateful childishness.

Considering the tone of a lot of the comments on that website, her outrage about 'nasty" responses seems pretty selective. But what the hell, I did like "rock star":