The Other O.J.

Clarence Thomas, high profile Black runningback Supreme Court justice, is finding out that when you get away with a felony, it’s best not to write a book about it, it’s better if your White wife doesn’t decide to flaunt your “innocence” decades after leaving the scene of the crime.  If I were Mrs. Thomas I’d be nervous.  We’ve all seen what can happen when an angry Black man gets upset with his Anglo wife.

Thanks to the arrogant (desperate?) actions of Ginni Thomas dropping a bloody glove voicemail to Anita Hill (requesting an apology for her 1991 testimony), all eyes are on Clarence Thomas.  Back in those halcyon days of pre-911 yore, back when his Senate confirmation hung on what amounted to “he said – she said” testimony,  he was ultimately confirmed by a narrow margin (52-48).

There’s plenty of new information that Clarence Thomas lied his way onto the Supreme Court.   Specifically, that he engaged in sexual harassment of coworkers….and then lied about it under oath. An eye witness of impeccable credentials has finally broken her silence.  Seemingly unaware of the danger she faces by making her testimony public, Clarence Thomas’ old girlfriend is telling all and the glove definitely fits!.

We could use another slow motion Bronco chase amusing distraction to keep our minds occupied.  I’m not suggesting a low or high-tech lynching of Clarence Thomas, just his immediate impeachment.  I want to watch the testimony on C-SPAN during the day, and then see John Stewart rip on it later that night.  Did I mention that it’s got porno?  There’s even some pubic hair  (a retro throwback adding authenticity) involved! And tits.  Everybody loves tits.

Watching the impeachment and listening to the lurid sexual details of Clarence Thomas will be fabulous!  Titillating television.  His former girlfriend is as unashamed of her sexual exploits as she is apologetic for her extended silence.  Get her on the stand and under oath.  We’ll be whisked back to a time about halfway between today and the era of Mad Men.  A time when you could no longer drink at work, but many men still felt free to make a positive comment regarding the size and structural arrangement of a woman’s tits.  Back when sexual innuendo and double entendre weren’t yet relegated solely to sitcoms like Three’s Company.  Ah, the good old days.

Speaking of Mad Men, the season is over and we could use something like a Clarence Thomas impeachment hearing to keep our attention off war, wiki and banksters!  Tea Party candidates will finally have a legitimate reason to starch up their robes and hoods support the Constitution.  Birthers will finally get a certified American Black man citizen to slap around!!  Progressives literally loathe the guy.  I love the smell of bipartisanship in the morning.

On a practical note, there’s a lot of unemployed people and not many jobs.  It’s only fair that the government and media DO THEIR JOB and offer us this salacious sexual tale token lesson on the rule of law in our society.  If Thomas had tortured someone I could understand the necessity of protecting him at any cost, but as history has shown, if you don’t nip these lying sexual perverts in the bud, they will continue supporting Democratic candidates destroying the nation.  My message to Congress:  The pubic hair is on the rim of the Coke Can.  You know what to do with it.

Enjoy.

 

Tea Party Billionaire Party

Love Must Have Made You on a Sunday

‘Cause you taste to me as good as God made honey taste babe.

Enjoy.

First Step to Recovery

FWIW, I entered this ‘hobby’ either slightly before, or parallel with, the introduction of the early Infocus DLP (X-1??). I started with an LCD panel hooked to a computer (with a TV tuner card) and an overhead projector!! My first screen was the side of my house. Monday Nite Football was still on ABC.

Hi all, my name is Tim and I’m a beamer:

My computer/overhead projector/LCD panel fulfilled me for awhile.
It was homegrown video dope, a little fuzzy (and chock full of cables and wires), but it would still give me a buzz. I probably would have been ok if I had just stopped with that, but I quickly moved up to the hard stuff……DLP, often referred to as visual PCP by those of us in the video-social underground. You start out by thinking you’ll limit your beaming to the weekends, late at night and after the sun goes down. Yeah.

After all, you know there’s a possibility of “burn out” from the moment you first “turn-on”, so you try to limit yourself. One evening I was watching Dark Side of Oz at 120 inches and 120 decibels and couldn’t help but spot the insanely serendipitous parallel between the opening lyrics to The Great Gig in The Sky* and the fact that my “bright star” might also give out at any time. The profundity moved me to abandon all caution. Carpe Diem and full beam ahead.

In time I was mainlining, beaming about on any surface I could find and using any video input I could scrounge up, a low resolution ticket to disaster. I plugged so much junk up to my equipment there’s hardly any free space to hook up anymore. Worse, I don’t exactly know where most of that crap has been before I got it!! Even when I’m not totally beamed out, I spend my time immersed in the jargon of the beamer junkies where we hang out and laugh at people who don’t know their asses from their aspect ratios.

Sure I’ve got it bad, but if you want to know how bad it can get consider that the worst of the beamer fiends scheme and dream of daytime beaming! You even see a bit of it around here from time to time. If the circus were still around, maybe these freaks could find an honest place of employment. Ah, the good ole days.

I’ve tried to hide my addiction, but the evidence is all about. It became such an overwhelming issue in my life that I began avoiding friends, once going on a three week screen design binge. My grasp of time was becoming distorted by my ongoing beaming sessions. One day my friends dropped in unexpectedly to check up on me. I vainly tried to mask the scent of the last batch of stuff I cooked up in my Paragon by spraying a can of Glade (while commenting on the weird new Popcorn and Potpourri scent they just released). I was so beamed out that I guess I figured nobody would notice the obvious paraphernalia of a commercial popcorn machine sitting in plain view. About this time, my friends were staring at me like some hillbilly heroin maker, much too eager to cook up the next batch.

Now that I’m outted, I’ve been spending a lot of time reflecting on the whole issue of the beaming habit and how to make it more socially acceptable. In an attempt to lessen the social stigma I’ve changed my focus from recreation beaming to medical beaming. It’s a grass roots effort.

Enjoy.

Dueling Headlines

Slate’s list of top stories for the day:

Enjoy.