The Guv Gets Her Serious Head On

So this crazy Iranian dude with the impossible name that sound straight out of "Team America" is a few blocks from where I am right now, being driven in police motorcades and wined on dined on the public's tax dollars. Hell there's nothing we like more than a genocidal, bigoted dictator hanging out in the city. Maybe Dubya would like to join him for an aperitif? I'm sure they'd have lots to talk about.

People are all pretty liberal and outspoken about it. "We don't like him, what he has to say or what he stands for but we support his right to say it."

Well fuck that. I'm a pretty liberal person myself and I say "Screw that guy and the plane he flew in on." You hate the west so much, stay the fuck in the middle east, asshat. Don't come to my city and spout your nonsense here. Can I come to Iran and tell you the multitude of things I find offensive about your country? I'm thinking not.

While I agree with people having the freedom to say whatever the hell they want, I also agree that I have the right to not donate my tax dollars to pay for him to do so on American soil.

Hell, my sister had a tiny glitch in her visa and was denied entry to the U.S. People accidentally answer questions on the visa waiver form incorrectly and get sent back to where they started. If you have previous drug convictions or sometimes a traffic offense they can stamp your passport "DENIED", yet this guy only wants to wipe out entire races for no sane reason; he only encourages people to beat women with sticks if they are caught holding a boyfriend's hand in public; he only wants to destroy the U.S., the Jews and the entire western civilization because he's a ranting lunatic and we, because we are so frightened of being categorized as bigots or dictators ourselves, are all for letting him come here and talk about it in the name of "freedom of speech". Screw you Iranian dude.

I'm sure the six zillion cops outside my building right now are all working for free though, right?

The Guv'ner Defends Scotland. Sort of.

Gosh it's hard to be Scottish.

I liked this part of the article:

Think of the worst possible stereotype of the Scot; double it, and you have got [Grounds keeper] Willie — a red-haired, bearded, foul-tempered, incompetent, haggis-eating, testosterone-filled boor who spends his private time secretly videotaping couples in their cars.

Jeeze they say that like it's a bad thing!

I'm not getting what we Scots are getting their panties twisted about. That's a fairly accurate description. Throw in hip flasks of Glenfiddich and a pocket knife and you practically described each and every one of us. In fact, I'm PROUD of my red beard and foul temper.

I did enjoy the parts about Americans wondering whether or not the Internet had reached Scotland yet (answer: No, we prefer the tried-and-tested 'two tin cans and a taut rope' for our communication methods) and did we know what microwaves were (midgets gesturing for attention perhaps?)? We prefer our cooking the traditional way - a Sassenach (English person) in a cauldron with appropriate seasoning.

Call me romantic (really, it'll be the first time ever) but I think most Americans when they think of Scotland are probably more likely to think of lochs, loch Ness Monster, castles, scenery and Sean Connery. Me, I think of butter tablet and soda scones and my beloved Irn Bru and the fact I could kick each and every one of your weak, pasty, American asses, ye bourbon drinking fanny-pack sportin' wee girls.

Huh?

Three's The Charm

Yesterday The Guv'ner had a not at all unusual urge for cake. In fact, days when this urge does not present itself are generally days I call a doctor and demand to know what's wrong with me. (Usually he asks me, "How long have you got?")

Luckily our cafeteria stocks such emergency items as cake and they're always freshly baked on the premises, so I scooted on down there and procured some sugary sustenance.

I remembered to dedicate my cake eating to Pistols, mainly because the cake I was eating was Tres Leches Cake, which I know is his particular favorite snack. In fact, I know he likes to eat tres leches cake three times a day (for balance - three milks? Thrice daily) Tres Leches Cake is like a chubby girlfriend with an overbite - you think she's groovy, you like her more than most girls but you don't want your friends to know about her. Pistols loves the Tres Leches but he'll never come out and admit it.

In fact, he's dreaming about it right now. Just do it, Pistols. Just eat the cake.

Why The Scots Are Strange Part One

My homeland of Scotland has been responsible in part at least for some of the greatest inventors and entertainment ever. John Logie Baird (nothing to do with Yogi Bear), Alexander Bell - inventor of the telephone, Robert The Bruce, Robert Burns, Sean Connery, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Robert Luis Stevenson, William Wallace, The Bay City Fucking Rollers, people! The Proclaimers? OK, I'm not sure I'm proving this point very well.

Ahem...

Anyway, now someone back in my homeland has decided to break some records by making the biggest bowl of porridge ever.

This baffles and confuses me somewhat. Of all the great stuff we could be attempting to do, like cure cancer or transplant brains or produce great tasting chocolate with zero calories or banning kilts on almost anyone or cloning more sheep - someone chooses to instead make a giant bowl of oatmeal.

I was particularly alarmed by this quote: Not only will we have the largest bowl of porridge in the world, we'll also have the world's largest spurtle.

I'm not sure I want to know what a "spurtle" is or if it's even legal, although we're talking about a country where sheep are pin-ups so who the hell knows.

Actually, to many Scotsmen, after a few drams of whisky, most sheep probably make them produce a "spurtle".

The Guv'ner Recommends...

The other day I bought some chocolate covered pretzels (two food groups in one - 'yum' and 'yummier') and dragged my lazy carcass to Times Square to see a movie. Usually I am anti-Times Square movie viewing since the time I went to see the 'Sixth Sense' there and spent more time listening to the traffic honking by outside and smashing over metal grids in the road to concentrate on the actual dialogue and creepy silences. Seriously, who thinks putting a movie theater next to the melting pot of humanity is a good idea? A MORON that's who and when I find out his name, his ass is toast. I see dead people. I'll show YOU dead people, pal.

Anyway, the movie was showing barely anywhere else so choice was not on my side.

This was a different theater and the movie was "Sunshine" a film I'd been chomping at the bit to see since I first heard the basic outline (and the fact it was directed by Danny Boyle and written by Alex Garland who brought us the fab "28 Days Later" of which I'm a huge fan). Plus I'm a sucker for anything suspenseful, doomlike and sci-fi so long as it's good sci-fi. Some say I'm a sucker, PERIOD, but to those people I say "Bite it, hater!"

This was good sci-fi. The basic plot premise involved 8 astronauts flying on a mission to the Sun, which is dying, knowing that if it dies, so does Earth which is currently in the midst of a solar winter. The astronauts are carrying a nuclear bomb the size of Manhattan which has to be jettisoned into the Sun and detonated in the hopes it will kick start the star and reignite life on Earth. See? How awesome does that sound? Tell me you didn't just pee in your pants a little with the awesomeness of that. Things are compounded when in the "dead zone" - an area beyond Mercury where all contact with Earth is lost - they receive a distress signal from the previous spacecraft who disappeared seven years ago while attempting the same mission. They have a dilemma of whether to continue on to the Sun and deliver their payload, which has no guarantee of success, or to divert to the lost ship in the hope of recovering the second bomb therefore having two chances of success, but at the possible compromise of their oxygen supply. Then a small human error causes a domino effect (nothing to do with pizza) of catastrophe that leaves them fighting to survive long enough to deliver the payload.

So those chocolate pretzels. I had eaten maybe three of those before forgetting they existed for the duration of the movie. I was balanced on the edge of my seat with a look on my face that said, "What. The. Fuck." for the whole movie. In fact, I can't remember a time I was last so slack-jawed with awe at a movie. It was terrifying, magnificent, awesomely beautiful to look at, menacing, heart-breaking and included one of those moments where your stomach falls through your rectum and hits the floor with a thud when a little plot twist kicks in towards the end.

Naturally I have one question. What is it about sci-fi movies (and scary ones in particular) that bring out geek boys and practically no one else? The theater had about sixteen people in it. All alone. Fifteen men of different ages and varying degrees of hygiene, and then me (I just showered, honest).

I guess what I'm saying here is, if you get a chance to see "Sunshine" and suspense is up your alley (maybe with a touch of horror action toward the end) then GO DAMMIT. Honestly, I am still a little freaked out.