February 12, 2014

via www.kmov.com

Should it really count as theft, it it kinda looks like one of those gift cards, and the lady kept dropping it, suggesting that she would have lost it anyway?

The latter actually seems like a somewhat compelling argument. If the lady dropped the card, and you picked it up, that means you found it in a sense. That's not really the same thing as stealing.

If you found a ham sandwich and ate it rather than trying to track down the person who lost a ham sandwich, does that count as a theft, or a come-up? The person probably wouldn't have come looking for that sandwich anyway, because if you lose a ham sandwich you should probably just get another ham sandwich.

You don't know what happened to that sandwich in the interim. A fly could have landed on it.

Similarly, if you drop your credit card in the airport, there's no point in going back through the airport trying to find it. If you're an Arab, they might think you're with the terrorists, lingering for so long and looking suspicious.

I know you can't just leave a bag sitting somewhere in the airport and expect to come back and find it later. Because it could be a bomb. You can hardly get up and take a piss without someone thinking you planted a suspicious package.

If you're traveling alone, you gotta find someone to keep an eye on your bag while you go take a piss. But you can't ask just anyone. Old women, who don't have shit else better to do than sit around and develop webs of conspiracy, because their vagines have dried up, are out of the question.

If you're black, you should probably find another black person, but obviously not just any black person. If they look like they might could get a job at the airport, I wouldn't trust them any farther than I could throw them. What are they doing in an airport anyway? Probably being extradited.

Clearly, taking your bag into the restroom with you, where it might get piss on it, is out of the question. Senators fuck in those airport restrooms.

The chick checking bags at the airport probably figured the lady would eventually report her credit card as lost, and the company would just send her a new one. She wouldn't even have to pay for any of the charges made on it while it was out of her possession. This wouldn't have cost her anything. She would have lost the card anyway, because she kept dropping it.

When a credit card company covers any charges made on your card while it's lost, or due to identity theft, it's not like they're doing you a favor. They're paying for that merchandise out of the money they charge you out the ass each month. If you don't lose your credit card every now and again, you're basically being charged out the ass for nothing. And it's not like they wouldn't still charge you, if there was no such thing as identity theft.

I'd almost suggest going out and buying $1,000 worth of shit at Tar-jay and then calling your card in as stolen every now and again, just to make sure you're getting your money's worth. I only hesitate because I'm not sure how you'd go about getting away with it, and it's probably illegal to suggest that someone do something that doesn't benefit a credit card company, on the Internets. I'm not sure about all the laws, because I was pre-med.

Target doesn't have to sweat who actually owns the credit cards used in its stores, and in fact, I'm at a loss for how they ended up calling the cops on this chick just because she bought $1,000 worth of shit and then the card was declined. Maybe the card had a $1,000 limit: It was a Hoodrat Special. Is it not legal for black women to spend $1,000 at Tar-jay?

Obviously Tar-jay is not that vigilant about maintaining the safety of its payment systems, if they recently lost card numbers for seemingly everyone who ever shopped there. I haven't bought anything from anywhere other than the gas station ($10 at a time, natch) and the grocery store since I was a teenager, and they probably got my shit.

And what's the likelihood that it was a black chick who pulled that shit off? I'll answer that for you. Zero percent likelihood. They should have elderly people standing at the door checking for Russian accents. Meanwhile, they should be glad to see a black chick with a credit card, regardless of whose card that is.

Arguably, the chick working at the airport is the victim and the rest of these people are guilty. I rest on your face.

Continue reading "Steal someone's credit card and claim you thought it was a gift card"

Posted by Bol at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 10, 2014

via www.thenation.com

Word on the street is that people already knew this kid Michael Sam was on the DL, and so he didn't have a choice in the matter but to come out of the closet.

As Eli Porter might put it, he was already in the gay parade.

Aside from having pride in who you are and not allowing other people to dictate how you live your life, it doesn't make sense to me why he didn't just wait until he was already in the NFL to announce that he's teh ghey.

Because the NFL draft probably hasn't happened yet, with the Super Bowl having been just the other day[1], this puts teams in the weird position of having to draft the gay guy. I can't imagine the fact that he smokes poles, and now everybody knows (see what I did there?), will help boost his stock.

To a certain extent, these guys are all essentially commodities, right? I mean, obviously an NFL team can't just draft me -- even though I am more or less the same size as an NFL linebacker. My neck and my wrist are not as strong as they used to be, from having spent my entire adult life sitting behind a computer. And I might also be at a disadvantage only having one eye, depending on how this game actually works.

It would be too easy for someone to just run up on me from my right side. An Asian guy would realize this pretty much right away, and ride that strategy straight to the bank, not unlike the kid currently dominating Jeopardy, looking like a bloated Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Are there any Asians in the NFL. I'd almost be as concerned about that as I was about teh ghey guys. #safety

But there can't be that many truly talented kids in the entire league, right, let alone on any given team? You need one guy who actually understands how the plays work, to play quarterback, and the rest of those guys just run to a certain location on the field, or try to hit people. You're mostly just drafting for size and strength, which can be acquired via the Internets. Some of those bigger guys honestly don't appear to be in much better shape than I am.

I don't know how this kid Sam's[2] ability compares to any number of other kids in this year's draft, but let's say you're an NFL team with a high number in this year's draft, because your team sucked balls last year. (In a sense, your team would be perfect for Michael Sam.) If you had a choice between Michael Sam and a kid with more or less similar ability who wasn't gay, you'd probably go with the straight kid. Not because you have a problem with gay people, but because having a teh ghey kid on your team makes you look soft. You'd be ceding a certain psychological advantage, and you might even be putting the rest of the players on your team at risk.

And that's not even considering the fact that your facilities might not have a separate shower and locker room for the one gay guy, because that had yet to be an issue until 2014. But let's not get off topic. Jokes about Michael Sam checking out other guys' units in the shower are immature and homophobic, even though he almost certainly will (let's keep it real). When I was in high school, I sometimes showered and changed in front of guys I wasn't 100% certain about. Nullus.

Michael Sam is in fact an All-American, and based on what little I've read about him, i.e. a few Twitter posts and a blog entry, it's more or less taken for granted that he'll play in the NFL next season. (Otherwise, who would give a shit if some college football player was gay? Is he also the first gay college football player? This seems less than likely just based on how many people play on the college level.) So the concern is not so much whether or not he'll be drafted, but when and for how much.

You make all of your money in the draft. Because it's the NFL, they probably don't cut you a check until you actually play, and you can trust that those checks will be cut off the moment you have to come out of the game (which you will, eventually), but the amount you receive is based on how much your contract was for, which is based on how high you were drafted.

It's already a known fact that guys in the NFL don't make shit. Their contracts are for less money, they're not guaranteed, and their careers are shorter than athletes in any of the other major pro sports. While basketball players can be assured of a few years of making it rain in a strip club after they exit the league (emphasis on a few), a lot of these NFL guys are broke pretty much the moment they retire. Someone who's capable of doing anything other than pontificating about things they hardly know about and cracking dick jokes could probably go through and prove that all but the highest drafted guys are already fucked for life financially.

People on Twitter are speculating that it was already a known fact in college football circles that this guy was on the DL, and that someone might put him on blast before the draft -- possibly another player, to boost his own draft potential. In this age of cell phone-enabled, Magna Carta Holy Grail app-assisted 24/7 Illuminati surveillance, it's not hard to believe that someone might have pics or video of him entering or exiting the kind of college party where they play a lot of B-52s. (Don't front like they didn't have parties like that at your school. I went to essentially a klan college, and even it had gay parties.) If you see a faded sign on the side of the road, it's says 15 minutes to the world's most cynical historic press conference.

This kid Sam is at least fortunate in that he's the first out gay guy in the NFL. (As I recall, there was already one closet case who came out in retirement.) He's like that guy Jason Collins, who was almost out of the NBA before he announced that he was teh ghey, and probably got a few extra milli. This kid's not in the league just yet, but if and when he is, maybe he can get an endorsement deal with a gay product (whoever makes A$AP Rocky's clothes, perhaps). And if he doesn't make it he can front and try to pretend it's because he's gay. There's ways this can be flipped to get that $$$.

[1] I only know slightly more about sports than the average woman, but I'm so straight some women find me uncomfortable to be around. They must be able to read my mind.

[2] Maybe he became gay because he doesn't have a proper last name. (Don't object to this point unless you can prove that it's incorrect scientifically.)

Continue reading "A gay guy might play in the NFL"

Posted by Bol at 11:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBack

February 03, 2014

via www.thedailybeast.com

Woody Allen needs to have a talk with his Jewish lawyer about several lawsuits it might be necessary for him to file against Mia Farrow and her nutty children.

Well, aside from the one he took nudie photos of and then married, and the ones who probably can't speak anyway, because they're retarded and hence probably don't have anything to sue for anyway. They're like Rocky at the end of Rocky V, after he had to put a shoe on the late, great Tommy Morrison, and then he coldcocked the surrogate Don King. Spoiler alert from 1990, or whenever TF that was.

First of all, I shudder to think how much money Woody Allen has spent over the years supporting Mia Farrow and her umpteen disabled children (I'd say they're all disabled in some form or another), supplementing the ridonkulous checks she must receive from the government each month. Whatever she gets, I bet it dwarfs the amount received by the infamous Cadillac-driving Chicago welfare queen unearthed by Ronald Reagan when he was running for the Republican nomination back in '76[1]. No one in that family should ever have anything bad to say about Woody Allen.

If an old white man was cutting me checks for millions of dollars, putting me through all kinds of fancy private schools, I'm not saying he would be allowed to touch my balls -- I would of course kill him and claim self-defense. I'm just saying. That would be the only old white man in Murica I didn't have anything bad to say about. I'd start an entire web site specifically for the purpose of singing that cracka-ass cracka's praises. I should be so lucky. I couldn't even get an old white man to pay me to do actual work. How do you think I would up on the Internets?

The last thing I'd be doing is going on white people daytime Twitter to accuse my benefactor of crimes he couldn't possibly have committed. It just goes to show how ungrateful, and how detached from reality, Mia Farrow and her children are. A good 13 or so of them at least have an excuse, but there is no excuse for the behavior of Mia, adopted daughter Dylan a/k/a Malone(?!), and alleged biological son "Ronan."

There needs to be a reckoning, and it should have started back when it was announced in Vanity Fair that "Ronan" is really Frank Sinatra's son (as if it wasn't already obvious). Woody, who's a genius, probably already had his suspicions, but if she's admitting to it in Vanity Fair, then she needs to go ahead and fork over a check for whatever Woody was forced to spend on that kid over the years. Because Frank Sinatra is the real father, it's not like this is a matter of the real father being some freshout who's either dead or impossible to track down and probably broke anyway. It might be necessary for Frank's estate to cut a check.

Really, a man shouldn't be compelled to cut a check to a child who doesn't even carry his name. It's just not right. You want to give yourself a fake name based on some long lost Robert De Niro movie from 1998? Fine, buy your own damn lunch.

Continue reading "Mia Farrow's family is full of invalids and ingrates"

Posted by Bol at 01:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBack

January 31, 2014

via www.byroncrawford.com

This phony debate about the fact that Hot 97 doesn't play real hip-hop is just a scam to get you to tune into Hot 97.

You have to listen in, probably for the first time in 10 or 15 years, to make sure Hot 97 really isn't playing real hip-hop, as you suspected, and to find out what they're playing instead, and they can somehow use the fact that you listened in for a few minutes to charge that much more money from advertisers.

They know you don't listen to Hot 97 on the reg, because you're not an idiot, and so the fact that you tuned in just that once makes it seem as if their audience is expanding. The tools they use to figure out how many people are tuning in are a lot more sophisticated than what they were using back when their playlists were worth a shit.

The dead giveaway is the fact that they would invite Buckshot up to the studio to discuss what a detirmental force for music Hot 97 has become. What purpose would it serve to even have him up there, other than to try to get broke, aging unemployed backpackers to post the video on their blogs and maybe make a few dollars from Google Adsense?

That's a few dollars more than they would have made otherwise, and they need every single dollar they can get, because terrestrial radio is a dead (not dying, dead) industry. Whenever the white people in Indiana who really run Hot 97 realize that Ebro, Rosenberg et al. contribute literally no added value, or they're marched out of the building in handcuffs for accepting payola, whichever one comes first, they'll be replaced by a Jack FM-style iPod set to shuffle, like many terrestrial radio jocks already have been, and it'll only result in the TIs at Emmis making even more money.

The fact that they had to bring in Ebro to shout the dreaded n-word at people and to stir up a new fake controversy every three days should serve as a wakeup call for Rosenberg. No black man that inept would have held on for that long in that position. When you can't operate the sour cream gun fast enough to keep up with the lunch rush at Taco Bell, they don't have a straw boss come and pull the trigger for you while you stand behind him and rub his shoulders to keep him nice and loose.

If your father in law is the franchisee, they just put you on the schedule and don't require you to show up, lest you somehow fuck up the taco meat and cause an e coli outbreak. Jack in the Box almost went out of business back in the early '90s behind some shit like that. They were having to sell those two for $.99 tacos for three for $.99 just to get anyone to eat there again. I never ate so good in my life.

The irony of Peter Rosenberg characterizing Macklemore's success at this past weekend's Grammys as white privilege run amok is so rich that people are making up rumors about it being a member of the Illuminati.

Hot 97 doesn't have to sweat the kind of people who usually listen to Hot 97 -- children who were born ater hip-hop already started to suck balls, in the mid to late '90s; the desperately poor, who don't realize you can get a free phone from the president and listen to Pandora or some shit; women, who have no taste in music (because they're women, natch); people in jail, so on and so forth -- pulling up that Ebro vs. Buckshot video and beginning to question their views about listening to garbage rap music and R&B, because they have no idea that video exists. They may or may not have access to the Internets.

Buckshot, on the other hand, was caught in the weird position of not really knowing what they play on Hot 97, or anyone who works there other than Funkmaster Flex and the guys who were sitting there in the room with him. He didn't spend a sufficient amount of time conducting research in order to prepare his argument, because he's not a masochist. If it hadn't been going out on the Internets, Ebro could have lied and claimed that Hot 97 does occasionally play real hip-hop, and Buckshot wouldn't have had any way of knowing. Technically, he wouldn't have been lying, and thus perhaps in violation of the FCC, if Peter Rosenberg still has that show that comes on between 12 midnight and 2 AM on a Monday morning. Is that why Rosenberg even has that show, to keep Ebro out of jail?

Buckshot was also flustered because, while Ebro hasn't had a chance to listen to the Buckshot episode of the Combat Jack Show (and yet he has time to make 45 minute-long YouTube videos arguing about "battle rap"), someone on Twitter must have informed him that Buckshot called him a house dreaded n-word. Buckshot walked back the house dreaded n-word accusation, at least to a certain degree, not because it's not true, but because it's difficult to call a guy a house dreaded n-word with him sitting there in the room with you, and also because he had those shoes to promote. If he'd actually explained to Ebro why he is a house dreaded n-word, at least metaphorically, Ebro might have cut the interview before they got to the part about the shoes. Shit, they might not have uploaded the video to YouTube.

Buckshot might consider starting a blog, if he doesn't already have one. (I would never read a rapper's blog, unless it's about me personally, and so I have no way of knowing.) There he could explain that while Ebro is not technically a house dreaded n-word, because this isn't slavery and therefore he doesn't live there at the station (which would cost Emmis more than just having him live elsewhere), much in the same way that Israel is not technically an apartheid state, because it's not in South Africa, house dreaded n-word is about as apt a term as I can think of to describe Ebro's role in hip-hop, in that he's the one guy in hip-hop who's been selected by Massa, i.e. Emmis Communications, possibly because Massa is his biological father, to look after Massa's property while Massa is off elsewhere counting the money he made off the backs of black people, and apparently Ebro has been in the big house, i.e. Hot 97, for so long that he's internalized Massa's thought process. They don't have to send him a list of songs that have been watered down to the point where they're suitable to be played on Hot 97, he can already sense it.

Rarely has a metaphor been as apt.

Posted by Bol at 01:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack

January 30, 2014

via flavorwire.com

And here I thought the Internets this week might have peaked with Macklemore more or less sweeping the rap categories at the Grammys and then issuing a private apology to Kendrick Lamar via his very public Instagram.

I couldn't fathom that a nutty CAC hipster broad would experience profound emotional distress due to the fact that a black woman showed up to her yoga class, and that she'd write an essay about it for xoJane.

I didn't even realize something like that could happen, though I guess it makes sense that if it did, someone would write an essay about it for xoJane. That's a career now, plumbing new depths of ridiculousness in your personal life and then sharing the grim details on the Internets for money, a sort of low expectations version of Lena Dunham's job at HBO.

It'll be difficult for them to top this one. This might honestly be peak #WhiteGirlProblems. The only thing that could possibly make it worse/better is if it somehow involved Starbucks, and that may have been a little bit too "on the nose," as they say in Hollywood. It would strain credibility, and because there's no sexual assault involved, we're not morally obligated to just go along with it regardless.

In the essay, the author, "Jen Caron," who comes off like a living, breathing Portlandia sketch, first meditates on the fact that yoga started in Asia somewhere, thousands of years ago, only to be co-opted by rich, skinny, freshly highlighted white women. But the yoga studio she attends has egalitarian values, and so it's attended by an assortment of broke hipster kids and people who don't have anywhere else to be in the middle of a weekday, presumably not by choice.

She excels at yoga, she says, because she has what she refers to -- over and over again -- as a skinny white girl body. In her defense, I bet her body really is awesome. Naturally skinny white chicks forever. (Just typing "skinny white girl body" caused me to pop a semi-, and I might have to "finish myself off" when I get done typing this, if my metabolism permits. #fyi)

The problem with attending a yoga studio with egalitarian values is, what if one day a black chick shows up? It takes extreme concentration to contort your body into unnatural positions for no apparent reason (I really do believe that there's a health benefit, and I also believe that playing video games is a sport), and how are you supposed to concentrate with a black chick in the room?

The black chick is described as being "fairly heavy" and apparently new to yoga. She attempts a downward dog or something (as they say on Reddit, the only yoga pose I know is downward doggie), but obviously that wasn't about to happen, so she spends the rest of the session just kinda sitting there.

It's not clear whether she was staring at "Jen Caron" the entire time, or if that was just the way her head was facing. Since there was no way of knowing what was going on short of attempting communication with the black person, or as I like to call it, tempting fate, "Jen Caron" was left with no other choice but to assume that the fat black chick was sitting there the entire time resenting "Jen Caron" for her skinny white girl body.

"Jen Caron" somehow managed to finish the session, and then she returned to her home, where she promptly broke down in tears. Later, she wrote what might honestly be the best blog post in the history of the Internets on it (or the worst, depending on how you look at it) for xoJane.

The thing is, there's no way that fat black chick wasn't sitting there the entire time resenting "Jen Caron" for her "skinny white girl body" (so sexy). I'd be willing to bet you a steak dinner that "Jen Caron" was dead on in her assumption, and I can't afford to both buy you a steak dinner and pay the mortgage on my house in a shanty town, which, coincidentally, costs about the same as a steak dinner, and is coming up soon. Basically, I'm willing to risk homelessness on this.

People were so upset with this essay, in part, because they could hardly imagine a scenario in which the fat black chick wouldn't have been resenting "Jen Caron" -- even if there was a puppet show going on on the other side of the room. "Jen Caron" comes off as a racist (albeit a benign white chick sort of racist) and a total yahoo, but she also gets at a certain uncomfortable truth about black women.

No matter what the fat black chick was thinking, which, again, is impossible to determine, it's likely that she appeared to be upset, because roughly 90 to 95% of black women suffer from what's known as resting bitchface. Not only do they appear to be upset when you see them in public (because of course they'd be upset to see you), but if you were to observe them from a distance with binoculars, in their natural habit, they'd still appear to be upset. They don't do the whole "pleasant" thing. And they hate nothing more than to be told to smile, which they consider a form of "street harassment."

Truth be told, I can kinda see how "Jen Caron" is the victim in all of this. Maybe I'm biased in her favor because skinny white girl body, but I'm at a loss for how she's the only one in the wrong here. She was wrong in that she was disturbed in the first place that someone in her yoga class could possibly not be white (though I'm gonna have to insist that black people shouldn't be doing yoga), let alone the stereotype-informed fantasy interaction she then proceeded to construct, but I'm gonna go ahead and argue that if she was made to feel uncomfortable to the point where she went home and broke down in tears, there may have been something wrong with that black chick. It wasn't her mere presence, it was the vibe she was giving off. Presumably, "Jen Caron" has been other places where there was a black chick and didn't start crying.

Also, it's foul how xoJane did her. Clearly, "Jen Caron" is insane, and whoever assigned her such an asinine topic for an essay did so knowing full with the derision and mockery with which it would be greeted. This was a setup. And then they ran another piece, in which (what I can only hope is) their most rabid black female writer read "Jen Caron" the proverbial riot act -- and not in a way that could possibly be construed as constructive, mind you. This was a straight hit piece. Even if "Jen Caron" had beaten the fat black lady with a rolled up yoga mat, it would have been a bit much.

Since the article went live the other day, "Jen Caron" has retreated from the Internets, deleting her Twitter and setting her food blog (of course she has a food blog) to private. It could just be that she's getting a lot of hate mail from angry hoodrats, and she's afraid she'll get Sharkeisha'd, but she could be under the impression that she's on the run from the government. I'm honestly concerned for her mental state. xoJane went and changed her byline from her government name to "Jen Caron" without indicating that they'd done so or that "Jen Caron" is a pseudonym. Between this and the issues I laid out in my post the other day about the Conor Oberst rape allegations, I would never believe anything I read on xoJane. Having said that, I'm definitely adding it to my bookmarks.

Posted by Bol at 01:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBack