The Panama Deception

I guess I am making up for all the time you waste on this site learning about Miley Cyrus by posting these videos today. I just watched the documentary The Panama Deception on Netflix. But you can watch the whole thing on youtube. Damn. I guess that means I could have had Die Hard 6 delivered to me by now. My loss is your gain. All 9 parts are available and I highly recommend it. Most people are unaware or have forgotten what we did to the Panamanian people.

Confessions of an Economic Hit Man

I read this book a while back and I decided to post this video of a radio interview with the author John Perkins.

I am not broadcasting your phone number on my podcast, even if you ask me to

I don't have a lot of common sense, which is why you shouldn't trust me to not play your voice mail that consists of you wishing to become a "superstar" by announcing your home phone number on my podcast. You don't just want to be famous you want to be a superstar, but like most kids today you don't think you need to do any work to be a superstar. You think it just happens overnight all willy nilly like.

Well babe I work hard everyday at this blog and podcast slaving away creating original content and now you want to piggyback the Romiustexis express and bag a little bit of his fame. I don't think so. I mean the most you could have asked for is to be famous like paris hilton because you haven't done anything. But you ask me to make you a superstar. I think one of the prerequisites for super stardom is talent. So for now the only superstar is me and the only one not being famous is you.

I don't think you realize that only 10 people listen to my podcast because nobody has gone to digg.com and submitted my podcast. I don't want to say that digg is a bunch of asshats for not approving me, but digg is a bunch of asshats for not approving me. Actually I do feel better after saying that. {go to digg right now and add me}

I don't think you can become famous by simply giving out your home phone number. Unless your idea of becoming famous is having 3 people call you in the middle of the night to wake you by screaming Hootie and the Blowfish lyrics to you. I for one don't advocate that kind of thing, but I can see how that kind of thing could happen to you.

I noticed from your area code that you were from New Orleans. I thought people from New Orleans were already famous enough. I mean I am pretty sure that was you snatching tv's from a flooded Best Buy, wasn't it?
I have another bit of advice for you. I think I might need to teach you how to hang up a telephone. Your speaking on the voicemail lasts 20 seconds or so, but the message is 3 minutes long. I think you forgot to hang up, or maybe just the last episode of the sopranos that blank space on the message is supposed to symbolize your failure to obtain the massive media coverage deserving of your celebrity, either way that's way too artsy for my audience.

My audience can't stand to sit through 3 minutes of silence. Many of my listeners are just my friends who are too lazy to read this blog, the rest are pedophiles who can't read, but like to jack off to miley cyrus' voice. I can't get that song out of my head either guys. v Make sure to listen all the way to the end of the podcast is you want to hear the girl from New orleans beg for superstardom!

The Baby of Celebrity super chef and Italian hottie Giada De Laurentiis wants MEAT!

"I used to crave sweets before I got pregnant. You know, chocolate, cookies, cake. I've normally got a really big sweet tooth, but not now this baby just wants meat," she said.

GIada is preggars! As of yet there are no picture of Giada with her baby bump. As soon as there picture of a pregnant Giada you will see them here first. I am making that commitment to you. I just altered my Google news reader to update me with any of those exciting photos. NOW enjoy this!



This post is dedicated to the Honda Pilot. The Honda Pilot is in no way a vehicle for an aspiring soccer mom. The Pilot is stylish and awesome. I highly recommend it to you.

Live blogging Eliot Spitzer as he goes down in a flame of hookers (updated)

I wanted Eliot Spitzer to be the next president. I wanted someone who would go after big corporations. I held out hopes that Eliot could be convinced by his familiarity with corporate shenanigans to eradicate corporate personhood.

But Spitzer is human, all too human. He got caught playing with hookers and I don't think he will survive this mess. The New York Times broke the story. My friends have additional coverage: here, here and here.

"The wiretap captured a man identified as Client 9 on a telephone call confirming plans to have a woman travel from New York to Washington, where he had reserved a hotel room, according to an affidavit filed in federal court in Manhattan. The person briefed on the case and the law enforcement official identified Mr. Spitzer as Client 9. "

Here is what we know about Client 9

• He refused to use a "traditional wire transfer" to pay the organization but arranged for an Emperor's Club girl to take Amtrak down to Washington for a visit.
• Client 9 seems to have used the service before.
• He also thought the choice of his prostitute, "Kristen," was "great" and "wonderful."• The agency charged him $4,100 for "Kristen"'s visit.
• The tryst took place in room 871 of a Washington hotel. On a side note, the domain www.room871.com has already been purchased.
• Client 9 was willing to pay "extra" for "better" services. "Kristen" was a pretty brunette, petite, five-foot-five and 105 pounds.
• The fee ended up being $4,300, with the "extras."
• "Kirsten" did not think Client 9 was difficult, but he might have asked her to do things ("basic things") that "you might not think were safe."

4,300 dollars. The guy likes hookers. Hey, what guy doesn't? I'm just pissed that this story broke after I posted a podcast where I rant about prostitutes and $1,000 handjobs in downtown Vegas. Looks like a good deal now. I don't know how a governor can afford 4,000 dollar call girls on a civil service paycheck. That's pretty damn expensive.

(UPDATE) Spitzer earned 1.9 million last year and comes from wealthy family. He is alleged to have spent more than 80,000 dollars on hookers.

Eliot is a smart guy, how did he figure a sitting governor could get away with this? Lesson one to all you ladies out there with b/f or husbands in politics. GIVE THEM ANAL SEX. While you are at it if you want your hubbie to make it through his term give him oral. Unless your husband is republican, then dress up in "man-drag" and offer him sex in the bathroom through a hole in the wall. He's not gay, he just doesn't mind that you don't shave your legs and have a penis.

(UPDATE) Spitzer was asking for sex with no condoms. I can't see how that is unsafe. It's how god invented sex. I never wear condoms. I might have the super aids but magic johnson is going to give me the cure, so I am ok.

Update:

I was watching CNN and James Carville was on the show. He was telling Wolf Blitzer that there was no need for Eliot Spitzer to resign. Carville was wondering why the FBI was looking into a prostitution ring and speculated that maybe this was payback for Spitzer's holy rolling against Wall Street.

ABC reports that it was "suspicious money transfers, initially leading agents to believe Spitzer was hiding bribes." So apparently it was not the sex that got Eliot in trouble, but his "clever" attempt at disguising the payments to the brothel that alerted federal officials.

Where were you when Gary Gygax died?

Where were you when you heard the news that Gary Gygax died? You were inside your room fiddling with your clit, because your boyfriend can't get you off. It's not just him though a lot guys have trouble getting it up for fat chicks on the rag. You are always thinking about your pleasure. Why don't you think about his a little more often?

Back in the 50's when women knew how to keep a man, a woman could actually enjoy sex without an orgasm. An ugly woman knew her place, she never felt entitled to pleasure, her pleasure came in pleasing him. We've got all this shit backwards in this century.

I'm not going to make any of those "looks like Gary didn't make his saving throw against death" jokes because that's just too easy. I'd rather make "if it wasn't for Gary Gygax making fantasy mainstream you wouldn't have met your boyfriend while working as a serving wench at the Renaissance Fair" jokes because even though they are "easy" they are true.

My attempt at Miley Cyrus porn fan fiction

Miley Cyrus' skin is far more freckled up close than you would think. She pouts her lips at you and she makes funny faces whenever you tell her something she disagrees with, like that her Dad used to be way famous before her, and that women think he's sexy even with the mullet haircut.

Miley wants me to do an interview with Barbara Walters. Miley wants me to dispel rumors that I get money from doing interviews about her.  Barbara will pay us 1 million dollars for the interview.

I told Miley from the moment I met her that I would never take a dollar from her. I even signed agreements that exclude the possibility of me making any money out of our relationship.

"I don't really see an upside here for me, Miley."

"Everybody thinks it's a good idea." Everybody is the lawyers and the lawyers are scared shitless that I am ruining Miley's career. I tell Miley that I will come off looking like the creepy old guy who just wants to Britney Spears her ass and get to the money.

Miley reminds me that she is an adult now.

"I'm 18. And I am totally legal. We met after I turned 18 so I don't see how you are doing anything wrong. I know you aren't some kind of pedophile."  She says.

Miley is young enough to be my daughter. I'm 41 years old, so I am just a few years younger than her father. Her father is not pleased about our age difference. Though I am sure some small part of him wonders what he did wrong. Maybe bath time with daddy lasted too long, maybe old Billy Ray should put a towel on after getting out of the pool. Either way, I refuse to spank her and I never let her call me daddy in public. Billy Ray is 6 foot giant of a man and could kick my ass.

Barbara Walters is old. I am not sure what kind of lighting they use to disguise her appearance on TV but it takes 6 men and boxes of equipment to do it. The men take 3 hours to set up the shot, they place me next to Miley on a love sofa.

We had the interview at Miley's place even though I don't live with Miley. I have my own place I tell Barbara, "I even have a job and car. I can take care of myself. Not always well, like a lot of working people in this country, I don't think the policies of the current administration are helping the middle class, but I just want the American public to know that I am not using Miley for her fame or fortune."

I felt good about getting that shot off against the president and his policies, maybe something good can come from this after all.

I am not exactly sure when I started to cry during the interview. I'd like to think that is was at least halfway through it, but some of my crueler friends point out that you can see tears streaming down my cheek almost right away. I guess I was nervous.

"Did you want to do this interview?" Barbara asks. Barb does her homework. She must have someone on the inside, because Miley and me had our first and only real argument over me doing the interview.

"To be honest," I tell Barbara "not really."

"I am going to come off a bit paranoid in this part, but you'd be paranoid too. I have lawyers and publicists that tell me what to. They tell me how to answer your questions without really answering your questions. They tell me to deflect. I think that's the key word they used, "deflect." I found the publicist at didyoufuckup? dot com, and I paid them 19.99 a month for advice. I am pretty sure the website simply copies and pastes from Public Speaking 101 text books, but I don't have a lot of money to spend on things like that. I've got bills like normal people. I get 163 death threats a day. I don't think people understand that."

I think I just broke the first rule of not looking like your paranoid. I try to continue, "One day Miley could get bored with me. And when she does..." Miley nudges me with her elbow, because she gets pissed when I tell her I am just some passing fad with her, that she will grow bored with me. We have almost fights when I tell her how she has an opportunity to meet "anybody and everybody, the famous and the talented, and I can't compete with that."

Miley does her best to calm my anxiety attacks at these moments. She tells me how special I am to her, and how I make her feel, and that no one has ever made her feel the way I make her feel. Most of the times this calms me down, but when I think about it later I realize that my being with Miley is purely dependent on her emotional state and connectedness with me. I have nothing else to anchor her to me. As soon as her teenage hormones calm down I will be on my way out.

"And then I will have to go back to my normal life. Or what I mean is, I will still need to be able to have a regular life. I could get fired from my job for coming on this interview and talking about my relationship. It's going to be hard out there for me now. I don't want to be famous!"

I was basically pleading with Barbara by this point.

"Phillip McCracken is an asshole! He's the most popular podcaster and radio host of all time. And he is making my life miserable."

"All he does is spread rumors on his talk show about how he thinks he should be with Miley and not me and how old I am and how creepy I am."

I ask her, "But have you seen his Myspace page? Gimme a break the guy is totally creepier than me!"