Michelle Obama ranks 19th. Tom Hanks tops the list, while Judge Judy ranks above all the justices of the Supreme Court. Chomsky ranks ahead of Madeline Albright and Anderson Cooper.
I know little about statistics so I can't judge the accuracy of the poll, which surveyed a supposedly representative sample of 1,009 Americans in January.
If it's true, then Americans have a great degree of trust in America's most prominent anarchist. In a new interview, Chomsky describes what anarchism is and why he believes in it:
Well, anarchism is, in my view, basically a kind of tendency in human thought which shows up in different forms in different circumstances, and has some leading characteristics. Primarily it is a tendency that is suspicious and skeptical of domination, authority, and hierarchy. It seeks structures of hierarchy and domination in human life over the whole range, extending from, say, patriarchal families to, say, imperial systems, and it asks whether those systems are justified. It assumes that the burden of proof for anyone in a position of power and authority lies on them. Their authority is not self-justifying... it’s not at all the general image that you described — people running around the streets, you know, breaking store windows — but [anarcho-syndicalism] is a conception of a very organized society, but organized from below by direct participation at every level.
At 84, he's probably one one of the oldest guys on the Readers Digest list. But he's still chugging along. Chomsky recently lobbied Stephen Hawking to boycott an Israeli conference over its occupation of the Palestinian territories, and signed on to a public letter calling on the New York Times to rectify its biased coverage of Central America.
Barack Obama languishes in 65th place in the poll—one place behind Adam Sandler.
Tiffany is the mall-bred pop star who enjoyed a short run of hits in the late '80s, and I Think We're Alone Now is the 2008 documentary about the lives of two die-hard Tiffany fans.
Jeff Turner is a 40-something Tiffany fan living in Santa Cruz, CA. Turner opens the movie by proudly displaying the restraining order (and news clippings about the restraining order) taken out against him by Tiffany, chuckling along as if he's displaying love letters. He talks endlessly about the deep love and friendship he shares with Tiffany, but his memory of supporting events is faulty. ("She called me at home and said I'm your best friend mentor and protector!")
Kelly McCormick is a 30-something Tiffany fan from Denver, Colorado, where she lives in a small apartment lined with Tiffany posters and photos. The camera lingers on a magazine ad taped to the wall, showing two women in an erotic embrace. Underneath, Kelly has taped notes with arrows pointing at each of the women, which read "Tiffany!", "Me!", and "This will happen very soon!"
Jeff has Asberger syndrome, and a deep knowledge of secret societies and "radionic psychotronic devices," which he sometimes uses to listen to Tiffany's thoughts. (He was also arrested once for showing up at a Tiffany appearance bearing a samurai sword and five chrysanthemums—"the highest honor ceremonial gift in Japan!," he crows unapologetically.)
Kelly was born intersexed—she refers to herself as a hermaphrodite, and says she has a monthly period "just like every biological woman, including Tiffany." Kelly also seems to be battling a substance abuse problem, consoling herself with bottles of Jaegermeister and speaking in heartbreakingly frank terms about her loneliness. "I'm sick of being pushed out of Tiffany's life when I'm supposed to be in it," says Kelly, before seemingly nodding out against her shrine.
So said T.J. Lane, the 18-year-old convicted of killing three students at Ohio's Chardon High School, to the families of his victims at his sentencing this week. From the Associated Press:
T.J. Lane, 18, had pleaded guilty last month to shooting at students in February 2012 at Chardon High School, east of Cleveland. Investigators have said he admitted to the shooting but said he didn't know why he did it.
Lane was defiant during the sentencing, smiling and smirking throughout, including while four relatives of victims spoke.
After he came in, he calmly unbuttoned his blue dress shirt to reveal the T-shirt reading "killer," which the prosecutor noted was similar to one he wore during the shooting.
At one point, he swiveled around in his chair toward the gallery where his own family members and those of the slain teenagers were sitting and spoke suddenly, surprising even his lawyer.
"The hand that pulls the trigger that killed your sons now masturbates to the memory," he said, then cursed at and raised his middle finger toward the victims' relatives.
Lane was given three life sentences with no possibility of parole, but I imagine his sassy mouth will get him slain in prison in no time.
If you want more celebrity bullshit posts, post 'em. And please note that the two Seahawks posts were by regular actual employees of The Stranger, and one of them was so disdainful as to actually constitute a Golden Globes post.
Pastor Ken knew that playing nice was no way to defeat Ref. 74, and now he gets to rub wussy evangelicals faces in it. From OneNewsNow:
[B]efore the 2012 presidential election, Hutcherson allowed new teammates...to take the lead in the charge to oppose Referendum 74.....the co-founder of Antioch Bible Church soon found out that they weren't operating out of the same playbook.
"Their intention was to be moderate, non-controversial," Hutcherson told OneNewsNow in an exclusive interview, pointing out that the National Organization for Marriage, Focus on the Family and Family Policy Institute's unbiblical strategy was a severe departure from the state's churches' aggressive campaign to stop same-sex marriage using the weight of family values and Scripture. He notes that the groups essentially told him and other local Christian leaders' that their message on marriage and social issues was too offensive.
"They did not want me involved basically in the top leadership, so I took a back seat and let them run with it," Hutcherson shared.
Hutch's final verdict:
"Until national pro-family organizations start acting more biblical and God-fearing...we will not win any more elections."
In lieu of supplying my own joke, I'll defer to the superior preexisting crack from OneNewsNow commenter Emelye Waldherr:
Indeed! The right wing evangelicals and other social conservatives should raise the volume and stridency of their attacks against the minorities they disapprove of. Look to the Family Research Council, Traditional Values Coalition, American Family Association (particularly Bryan Fischer) and other groups like them for a model you can follow to victory.
If you have 10 minutes to spare and haven't seen this yet, I suggest you go read this profile. It outs a prolific Reddit troll, yes, but more importantly it explores the vague delineation between our online and IRL personalities—and why some people think posting candid photos sexualizing 14-year-old girls online is perfectly fine (because the internet is a magical place without rules or consequences!) but who fly into a holy rage when their compatriot's online anonymity is threatened.
Last Wednesday afternoon I called Michael Brutsch. He was at the office of the Texas financial services company where he works as a programmer and he was having a bad day. I had just told him, on Gchat, that I had uncovered his identity as the notorious internet troll Violentacrez (pronounced Violent-Acres).
"It's amazing how much you can sweat in a 60 degree office," he said with a nervous laugh.
Judging from his internet footprint, Brutsch, 49, has a lot to sweat over. If you are capable of being offended, Brutsch has almost certainly done something that would offend you, then did his best to rub your face in it. His speciality is distributing images of scantily-clad underage girls, but as Violentacrez he also issued an unending fountain of racism, porn, gore, misogyny, incest, and exotic abominations yet unnamed, all on the sprawling online community Reddit. At the time I called Brutsch, his latest project was moderating a new section of Reddit where users posted covert photos they had taken of women in public, usually close-ups of their asses or breasts, for a voyeuristic sexual thrill. It was called "Creepshots." Now Brutsch was the one feeling exposed and it didn't suit him very well.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 3 The week continues in Tacoma, where this evening Last Days had the mind-bending pleasure of attending Nadya "Octomom" Suleman's meet and greet at the Castle Megastore, where Suleman was autographing copies of her brand-new porn film. As history buffs will recall, Suleman burst into America's consciousness in 2009 as the lady who had the desire, drive, and funding to get her face surgically altered to resemble Angelina Jolie's and give birth to octuplets conceived via in-vitro fertilization. Then it came to light that Suleman already had six children that had also been conceived in-vitro, and that the Angelina Jolie–resembling mother of 14 was unemployed and on public assistance. Which brings us to today, when, after years of vowing never to do porn and insistently rejecting the nickname "Octomom," Suleman appeared at the Tacoma Castle Megastore to promote her new porn film, Octomom Home Alone. As its title hints, Suleman's porn tape involves no sex with anyone else, but is merely a series of "erotic vignettes" that require Suleman to diddle herself in various rooms of a house. At the Castle Megastore, the Octomom Home Alone DVD was on sale for $19.99—a price that also got you a face-to-face with Suleman herself. Now perhaps you're wondering: What kind of people show up to see a woman who's famous for cutting up her face, implanting things in her uterus, and being forced by financial necessity to make masturbation porn? Answer: Stranger columnists and about a dozen or so others—a couple of older men alone (sure), a couple of younger men with dates (romantic!), and at least one family (more later). As for Suleman, she looked pretty (getting Jolie's face carved into your face has its benefits) and was very friendly—asking people's names, posing for photos, and responding to fans' kind words with a gushy "Theenk you!" Perhaps unsurprisingly, Suleman was dressed like a porn star in a tight, tiny strapless dress that covered her from bust to upper thigh and super-high stripper heels. More surprisingly, attendees seemed genuinely happy to meet her. "Stay strong," said a military veteran who treated Suleman as if she were just another American struggling through tough times. Then there was the aforementioned family, featuring a senior-citizen mother with two adult children, all of whom crowded around Octomom for a photo and autographed DVD. God bless America, and good luck, Octomom.
In short: Going to see Octomom's meet and greet at the Castle Megastore is the poor man's going to see Marina Abromovic's The Artist Is Present at MoMA.
I work as one of those "direct" fundraisers downtown. We're rewarded for getting in your space, forcing you to shake hands, and doing or saying whatever it takes to get you to give a complete stranger on the street your credit card or bank account number. Most of you don't even really seem to understand how much or how long you're going to pay—you're just so goddamned grateful to get away from me without feeling like a heartless, kitten-drowning, baby-starving, greed-riddled asshole. Why do I do it? Because I LOVE it. I love getting paid to make people uncomfortable. I love forcing my will on another human being. I love that I get to wrap my sadistic longings to control others in a blame-free shroud of sanctimonious self-righteousness and there's nothing you can do about it. The money's okay, I guess, but the truth is that I get this unbelievable rush every time one of you does exactly what I want....
Another week, another white person trying and failing to make comedy out of the N-word. The latest offender/lesson-learner: Sharon Needles, winner of this year's RuPaul's Drag Race and Pride weekend headliner at Neumos's "Hey Tranny It's Tranny" show. While defending the comedic use of the semicontroversial "tranny," Needles pointed to many other much more offensive words, dropping some N-bombs that stunk up the joint like a nuclear-grade broccoli fart. Needles reportedly apologized.
Courtesy of TheWrap comes this audio of Mel Gibson freaking the fuck out at Joe Eszterhas (living the dream!). As TheWrap reports, the blowout happened in Gibson's Costa Rica home in December, and was recorded by houseguest Eszterhas. Enjoy!
Aside from everything else, Elvis Presley was an astounding creature to look at, and tonight, the found-footage masters at Collide-O-Scope light up the screen at Central Cinema with two hours of nothing but Elvis.
(Not included in this trailer but certainly due for inclusion in tonight's show: The weird medical drama in which Elvis plays a doctor who, in one scene, spends ten minutes shaking autism out of a comatose child. Mary Tyler Moore co-stars. I am not lying or having a stroke. (Knock wood.))
A young woman in Australia (and self-proclaimed "judgemental vegan bitch") takes to YouTube to rant about veganism and obesity. If only she'd included a pit bull, this would be the holy grail of Slog bait.
by Jen Graves
on Tue, Jan 10, 2012 at 9:22 AM
Her treasured items include butterfly tattoos, cans of Almond Roca, and yellow silk roses. Her headwear includes "a sequin-caked visor or a dime-store clown mask set to a jaunty angle and worn as a hat. Her wig is ravaged, half falling off, and manages to appear matted and wind-wild at once."
Please, for the love of god, enjoy the full catalog of Jackie Hell's soul-crushing style, as brought to marvelously dreadful life by Marti Jonjak in the most recent edition of Worn Out.
So, things are getting even crazier. The assistant coach whose testimony is central to the exposure of this baby-raper and the cover-up of his crimes won't be going to the game this week in Nebraska because he's been subjected to threats. (This link is to a story that covers the whole shebang pretty comprehensively, for those of you joining this story late.)
My heart bleeds for the poor guy who didn't go to the cops when he saw a grown man allegedly raping a ten-year-old boy, and thereby enabled the sexual abuse of more children. Allegedly.
A question to answer in comments: What's the over-under on bar fights that will be started more or less along these lines: Guy walks into a bar wearing Penn State gear. Someone makes a "Baby-Raper University" comment, melee ensues. Let's do some math: According to Wikipedia,
As of July 1, 2010, the [Penn State] Alumni Association counts 496,969 members within the United States, with an additional 16,180 in countries around the globe
OK, so with over half a million alums (although none are on countries that are not around the globe, so that cuts down on extraterrestrial brawls), I'd say that a minimum of 10,000 bar fights will occur along the lines of the scenario above. Hell, there might be that many in Lincoln this weekend alone (UPDATE: turns out the game is in Happy Rapey Valley, not Nebraska. Still, there might be some PSU alums planning to watch the game in some Lincoln sports bars . . . ).
Students and alumni of Notre Dame, America's first and foremost Roman Catholic university, are of course barred from making such comments, given the performance of the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church, which makes the administration of Penn State look like the Justice League in comparison to their generations-long cover-ups.
Plenty of people feel awkward about their dad's profession. You probably wouldn't brag about your dad's most recent trip to repossess someone's house, for example. Still, that's not as bad as being Muammar al-Qadaffi's son, Saif al-Islam (who was recently captured by Libyan rebels... and escaped. Oops.) One of Saif's former classmates at the London School of Economics penned a brief remembrance about hanging out with the dictator's spawn:
At the end of the school year Saif decided to host a party for the entire class. I was contemplating whether or not to go: would socializing with a dictator’s son someday come back to haunt me? My professor was going so I decided to attend. As we were dining on lobster, our drunken professor gave a toast. He started to mention how this course was great because of Saif. Saif looked visibly touched and waiting to hear more. But the professor paused and suddenly had nothing more to say, because, in truth, there was nothing more to add. Saif never spoke in class and there was nothing about him being in the course that made it any more special, except perhaps for the lobsters.
Well, the ill-begotten oil money ain't so bad, I guess. I bet all of his friends in elementary school were totally his friends for realsies.
There's a photo of someone's shoes followed by three getting-to-know you questions. The three questions are inappropriate for summer. Based on the shoes and the answers to the questions you are supposed to guess who the person is. GOOD LUCK!
The singer ("She scratched my boob really hard—there was a wolverine wound on my boob"):
* A NOTE ABOUT THE GAME: You won't actually need good luck, because all you have to do to cheat is scroll down because you know how when you permalink to individual posts the jump goes away? Yeah. The honest among you—and you know who you are—will halt your scrolling and guess and then proceed scrolling.