Crap No-one Needs, #19

Black History Month

The world has seen many great civilizations that our kids could study in school. There are the ancient Chinese, who built great ships and navigated the world. The Greeks developed systems of philosophical thought and introduced concepts of democracy. Great Mogul leaders brought unity to India. The Romans performed amazing feats of architecture, road building, irrigation and medicine. Western civilizations created magnificent cathedrals, and invented printing so that knowledge could be disseminated to the world. Egyptians built pyramids whose secrets are still being unraveled today. Sun worshippers in South America plotted the movements of the stars and created amazingly accurate astronomical calendars.

So why is it that the schools here find it necessary to have fucking black history month every fucking year. I have nothing against black people, but it's hard to imagine any civilization that has contributed less to world history and development. The only thing that gets talked about is slavery and civil rights, any discussion of which conveniently overlooks that blacks were sold into slavery by, er, other blacks. Oh, and we have to remember that our ancestors supposedly emerged in Africa, which is a convenient way for Africa to get a free ride on the achievements of every other society in spite of having contributed practically nothing of note as a continent itself.

Forget about learning from the great societies of the world - let's have an annual festival of American liberal white guilt instead.

Generic Vomit

I had great intentions of doing a favor for a relative on my trip to China and India. You see, Mrs Bison's cousin's daughter (presumably one of those "second cousin once removed" type relatives, although I have no idea what the rules are for that stuff) has decided to collect airline vomit bags. No, don't ask me why. Suffice it to say that I was in a position to help out, and not just with economy class bags either - I was in first class going over to China, so maybe I'd get a really good sick bag. You know, extra thick, or larger, or something.

My first surprise was that I actually remembered to look for a sick bag to take home for her; normally I wouldn't think about it again until after I'd got back, so I was already way ahead of my usual game.

Unfortunately I discovered that, at least on the airlines I was flying, the bags were uniformly white and uninteresting. No airline logo or any distinguishing feature, which must make collecting them something of a challenge. Unless you become a real connoisseur of the paper quality, liner material and the little wire tie that keeps the carrots in once you're done.

I used to encourage Bison Daughter to collect hotel electronic door cards, which was good, because they come in many interesting designs, and also because they were about the only thing I could reliably be depended upon to bring home at the end of a trip. Maybe that's how my cousiny relative got started - perhaps her dad was headed back from a trip with nothing, and thought "You know what, I'll give her this vomit bag and tell her it's to get her collection started." Ten out of ten for creativity, but really - vomit bags?

What Did You Expect?

Any time you eat out there's a finite possibility of ending up with a case of the shits - it's just not reasonable to expect that everyone who works in a restaurant washes their hands after wiping their arse, or that the ingredients didn't have green fur wiped off them when they were pulled out of the back of the refrigerator. We routinely take this chance, often putting our colons in the hands of the kind of people we'd cross the street to avoid if we actually met them, in return for the convenience of someone else making us food.

There are times, however, when the possibility of diarrhea becomes more of a probability. And yesterday, when I ordered the seafood chili it's fair to say that I accepted the near-certainty that it would exit me with extreme prejudice this morning.

And I was not disappointed. To be fair, it looked like diarrhea before I even began eating it - brown liquid with seafoody things floating in it. My poor digestive tract didn't stand a chance; I'm not sure it even made a dent in the chili. I could practically have counted out the shrimp one by one, had I been so inclined. It's not as though I didn't see it coming...

The Tate Gallery Beckons...

You know you've got too much time on your hands when you end up doing this. I have a curved scar on one hand which Mrs Bison drew a face around, so that the scar became the mouth. She then offered me the opportunity to make something creative out of a burn that she has on one of her hands (the result of terminal clumsiness and the inability safely to withdraw a pie from the oven).

This is what I came up with. Unlike my spouse I'm no artist, but it's not a bad effort by my usual standards. I like to call it "Vindaloo - The Morning After".

Rush Job

Congratulations to the coalition of vociferous race-baiters for getting Rush Limbaugh dropped from the group bidding for ownership of the St.Louis Rams football team. I'm sure it will warm the hearts of NFL owners and players that this man with his, um, opinions won't be in a position to damage the reputation of the league.

No, we wouldn't want an controversy behind the scenes to detract from the parade of animal torturers, drug abusers, drunk drivers, firearms criminals, wife beaters and violent offenders who don a uniform and actually get on TV every week, would we?

Just goes to show, you can be any kind of scum and the league will welcome you with open arms. The NFL Players Association will fight for your right to keep your big fat bonus and keep on playing, no matter what crime you committed. But for the crime of having conservative opinions there is apparently no forgiveness. Sure, black players would refuse to play for Rush Limbaugh, but they'll happily suit up beside an unrepentant drunk-driving killer. Hypocrisy anyone?

Well Blow Me

So Obama makes a couple of speeches where he talks about improving relationships with the Muslim world and ridding the world of nuclear weapons, and suddenly he gets a Nobel Peace Prize. Are you shitting me? Don't you actually have to do something to win a prize?

It's good news for me though. I just told myself that I'm going to grow a twenty inch dick, and a tongue that can reach the back of my head, and as a consequence I fully expect to get the AVN award for Best Male Performer this year. That's the porn industry Oscar, in case you didn't know. Clearly it's not necessary that I actually star in a porn movie - I'll get the award just for imagining it, right?

Of course the AVN awards have a whole host of categories for male and female actors, including Best Oral Sex Scene. No kidding. Not that there's any point entering it this year - the award will surely go to the Nobel judges for their shameless cock-sucking of Obama.

Crap No-one Needs, #18

The Horse Fucker

Ever had one of those days where you wonder whether your life just reached rock bottom? Well here's a guy who can help redefine "rock bottom" and recalibrate your life for you.

The story HERE concerns a bloke who has just been arrested for the second time in South Carolina for shagging a horse. Not only is he a horse fucker, but he was caught having sex with the same horse he fucked last year. Here's a wild idea: there are a lot of horses out there, so why not change it up a bit and try a different one? Or maybe one whose owner isn't already sensitized to the fact that some freak weirdo wants to play backdoor jockey with her animal?

There are so many levels on which this is fucked up, but perhaps the most telling is that the woman was tipped off to the attack by the fact that her horse was "acting strange and getting infections again". Now that's bad. You fuck a horse and it's the horse that gets infected. How disgusting a diseased specimen must you be to pull that off?

If they ever want to make a juvenile education movie in South Carolina to encourage teenagers to eschew a life of crime and stay on the straight and narrow, they could do worse than to use this bloke. I would imagine the prospect of waking up every day for five years with this freak as your cellmate would be enough to scare you straight, wouldn't it?

"OK buddy, now bend over and whinny like a pony. Oh yeah!"