Archive for the ‘politics’ Category

Social media: the good, the bad and the ugly, part II

The Torontula Tyler Conium joins us to finish our discussion about the good, bad and ugly elements of social media.  We talk about the organic growth of social networks, Foursquare and its implications for serial killers, posting across multiple networks, privacy concerns, feeling obligated to respond to folks, the black art of subtweeting and sharing experiences by livetweeting during an event.  Also, bokeen starts beef with Micronesia. 

As the unofficial spokesperson for Canada, Tyler is often found apologizing for the existence of Drake.  You can follow him on Twitter at @tylerconium. 

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Ignorance in hip-hop and assorted ratchetness, part I

Rod and Karen from “The Black Guy Who Tips Podcast” join us to talk about ignorant hip-hop artists and, as expected, the conversation meandered a bit.  In addition discussing Rick Ross, Young Jeezy and their ilk, we also chatted about ghetto rappers with college educations, Devin Hester’s abnormally low IQ, Dr. Dre’s former career as a homosexual DJ, the murder of Eazy-E, the importance of dicks in pornos and the most feared member of the Bloods street gang, Drake.

The Black Guy Who Tips Podcast is hosted by Rodimus Prime and Karen.  Their podcast is excellent, thanks to their unwavering faith in the exalted quarterback of divinity, Tim Tebow.

Check out The Black Guy Who Tips Podcast
Follow Rod on Twitter: @rodimusprime
Follow Karen on Twitter: @SayDatAgain

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Why I Don’t Vote

I hate the “fat tax” almost as much as I hate fat people

As an avid sinner, I am vehemently opposed to taxation on my treasured vices. 

However, when I first heard the words “fat tax,” my interest was piqued.  I feel that obese people are repulsive sloths that lower my quality of life by cramping subway cars, sweating in or near the vicinity of my personal space and adversely affecting the aesthetic appeal of this glorious country.  Fat people deserve their comeuppance.  In fact, it is long overdue. 

I pondered how such a tax could be levied.  Perhaps there would be a complex calculation on the 1040 form that involved factors including height, weight and body mass index.  Alternately, a surcharge could be added to the cost of airfare and public transportation, depending upon the sheer mass of the commuter.  Another practical solution would call for scales to be installed in all escalators, elevators and public toilets; obese individuals would not be permitted to use the aforementioned devices without swiping their credit cards to pay a nominal fee.  

Much to my chagrin, I discovered that a “fat tax” would penalize average-size people and bloated sloths alike.  The tax would apply to foods and beverages deemed unhealthy, such as candy, salty snacks and soda.

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I’ll pass on “Cash for Clunkers”

For the past few weeks, I have been mourning the death of my truck.

My beloved vehicle was a shrine of masculinity.  Women swooned as I cruised by with the tiny four-cylinder engine humming.  Men were intimated by the dark purple paint job which made it clear that I am a man who means business.  When I close my eyes, I can still hear the dulcet tones that emanated from the leaky exhaust system when I would step on the accelerator.

The only way my 1999 Chevy Tracker could have been more macho is if it were shaped like a gigantic erect penis with throbbing veins. 

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American Injustice System, part II

Previously on bokeen.com: American judges handed down puny sentences for horrific crimes. An NFL player was sentenced to 24 days in jail for killing a man in a drunken car accident. A Chicago cop walked free after viciously beating a defenseless female bartender. Jack Bauer narrowly escaped after being captured and tortured by terrorists. Read part one for the full story.

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In February, four bicycles were stolen from outside of a hotel in Santa Rosa, California.  The bicycles in question were not the caliber of a bike that you or I would ride; they belonged to Kazakh cycling Team Astana, which was competing in the Tour of California. 

Sacramento resident Lee Crider pleaded no contest to charges of burglary and theft in the case.  He will be sentenced to three years in prison. 

One of the bicycles belonged to legendary cyclist Lance Armstrong.

Armstrong is the record-setting, cancer-surviving, single-testicled, Livestrong-bracelet-wearing athlete that has dominated sports reports on summertime newscasts for a decade.  He is also a giant piece of steaming shit.

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American Injustice System, part I

Some say that justice is blind; the American judicial system is deaf and dumb as well.

Criminal sentencing is wildly inconsistent as judges punish criminals with blatant disregard for the severity of their crimes.  Three cases in the last month alone illustrate the shortcomings of the country’s judicial system.

Cleveland Browns wide receiver Donte Stallworth pleaded guilty to charges of DUI manslaughter for killing a man while driving drunk; he will serve 24 days in jail.

Chicago Police officer Anthony Abbate was found guilty of aggravated battery for a drunken incident where he belligerently threw a female bartender to the ground and beat her; he will serve two years probation, avoiding jail altogether. 

A man named Lee Crider pleaded no contest to charges of burglary and theft for stealing three bicycles, including one owned by world-famous douche-on-a-bike Lance Armstrong; he will serve three years in jail.

The incongruity of the punishments compared to the crimes is utterly staggering.

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Illinois’ ban on texting while driving is complete bullshit

Illinois lawmakers are a rather apathetic lot; when they take action, it is rather newsworthy.

Last week, the Illinois Senate approved a measure to ban drivers from using their cellular phone to send text messages or surf the internet while driving.  Offenders would be fined $75, and would have their driver’s license suspended after three violations in a 12-month period.

“We’re creating safer roads in the state of Illinois,” boasted bill sponsor Senator Martin Sandoval (D-Mexico.)

Like any politician, especially one from Illinois, Sandoval is well-versed in the craft of bullshit.  The proposed law has absolutely nothing to do with public safety.

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Arlen Specter, rebranded for 2009.

Sometimes, marketers will chose to rebrand a product or service in order to freshen up its image.

After a string of lawsuits tarnished Phillip Morris’ image, the company became the Altria Group in 2003.  Likewise, Kentucky Fried Chicken was shortened to KFC in 1991 to escape the negative connotations associated with fried food. In many ways, it is a shell game to mold the public’s perception of an entity.  

Tuesday, Republican Senator Arlen Specter embraced the same deceptive tactic by rebranding himself as a Democrat. The Arlen Specter from the stodgy ranks of the GOP ranks is gone, replaced by the progressive Arlen Specter, now with 74% more warm and fuzzy!

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The Hospital of the Living Dead and why Universal Health Care is bullshit

boqueen was in pain.

Not “ouch that hurts” pain, but “I am too goddamn young to confront my own mortality” pain. What started as minor abdominal discomfort had become debilitating agony.

boqueen decided to go to the emergency room. Like 630 billion other Americans, she is uninsured. And like any uninsured Chicagoan, she sought care at John H. Stroger Hospital, the city’s largest public hospital.

We traded text messages as she sat in a waiting room with hundreds of other patients, waiting to have her number called. Nervous and concerned, I offered to come to the hospital and wait with her. She repeatedly declined, assuring me that she would be seen soon.

We both knew better. Stroger Hospital is notorious for exceptionally long waiting times.

After four hours, her number had been called. Her blood pressure had been taken and she was asked to return to the waiting room to be called again.

boqueen considered transferring to another more efficient hospital. I got in my truck and headed out to Stroger Hospital, with the intentions of taking her to an ER that takes a fleeting interest in actually treating patients.

As I drove to the hospital, boqueen’s name was called. We both knew the waiting game was far from over.

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