I’m a transgressive artist. I created a billboard with Obama’s glowering face in the middle, mushroom clouds on either side of it, and ISIS flags on the far ends. Really makes you think.
Sure, my art installation might not sound revolutionary, but check this out: I drew clown faces in the mushroom clouds and replaced the Arabic script of the flags with swastika-looking dollar signs. Because money is bad.
The design took less than 20 minutes to slap together in Photoshop, but the purpose of art isn’t to demonstrate skill. It’s to provoke a reaction.
The Brothers Karamazov is Fyodor Dostoevsky’s final masterpiece. It offers superb characterization, psychological depth and insight; intrigue, murder, and suspense; great daubs of humor, both madcap broadsides and satirical with a capital slice; that never-ending, cyclonical struggle between faith and reason; a sublimely Slavic melange of love, lust, deception, betrayal, violence, flight, revenge, apostasy, and redemption—capped off by a court trial scene that overrules Perry Mason and, in the renowned chapter The Grand Inquisitor, a full-court press by an impassioned Hierarch against Jesus’ abandonment of mankind to a terrifying freedom and overwhelming spiritual responsibility it neither wanted nor could manage that alone is worth the price of the book.
All right, I didn’t write the paragraph above (stole it from here), but it’s similar to what I would have cribbed from my CliffsNotes had I spent high school reading classics instead of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and the D&D Monster Manual. A few years back I decided to make up for my literature deficit by reading at least one classic a year. Liked Moby Dick, loved The Kalevala, and 2016 was the year I’d finally read the book that smart people have told me to read for decades, The Brothers Karamazov. So what did I think of this, the greatest Russian novel ever written?
Eh. It was a bit of slog.
Tell a joke to a liberal. Between your punchline and his laughter, there is a Progressive Comedy Pause. In this second or two, the liberal will process the joke to make sure he is allowed to laugh.
Is that joke racist? He mentioned Obama, but didn’t make light of him, so to speak. He also mentioned Michelle, but I didn’t notice sexism. Is it dismissive of the LGBTQIA community? Latinos? Muslims? Vegans? Will this joke hurt progressive causes? Will my laughter trivialize oppressed communities? Will I appear intolerant? I think it’s okay if I laugh. Yes, I’ll laugh now to signal my appreciation and to indicate that I’m not a joyless liberal scold.
The Left started the culture war, won it, and now roams the countryside shooting the wounded.
Getting same-sex marriage legalized now appears to have been just a beginning for progressives, not the goal that many libertarians and conservatives had assumed. With SSM accepted in more states every year and the Supreme Court considering if it should be a right in all 50, the Left is angrier than ever.
While most Americans would have celebrated such rapid victories, a large number of so-called liberals are out for vengeance. In Indiana, a local news reporter cold-called businesses to see if they would cater a theoretical same-sex wedding. The first one to say “no” would be made an example of.
Savages around the globe are murdering young women, selling them into sex slavery, and tossing acid into their faces. But a new viral video wants to redirect our outrage to another battleground of the global war on women: catcalls.
The video appeared yesterday in my Facebook feed with an image of a female and the headline “This is what it’s like to be catcalled on the street 108 times in a single day.” At first I thought it a humblebrag, but soon discovered it was yet another campaign to make men feel guilty.
We’ve all argued with liberals, especially online. The issue could be health care, tax rates or city zoning rules, but they’ll quickly turn their policy disagreement into personal attacks.
Conservative: “I think hiking the minimum wage will reduce jobs.”
Late last night and into today, music lovers mourned the passing of Tommy Ramone — the last original member of the seminal New York band. Why the outpouring of affection for a group that never topped the charts? Although they weren’t the most popular, The Ramones were arguably the most influential band since the Beatles.
By 1976, rock music had run its course. The raw, raucous, rebellious teenage anthems of the ‘50s and ’60s had given way to plastic imitations. The Bee Gees and KC and the Sunshine Band played in the discos. The Bay City Rollers and “Afternoon Delight”topped the charts. The more serious listeners were wearing out pretentious LPs likeBrain Salad Surgery and Tales from Topographic Oceans (the latter a double album with just four songs, carrying understated titles such as “The Revealing Science of God [Dance of the Dawn]”).
Rock had become overproduced, overwrought and no fun at all.
What was it like to have been in the lab when Edison sparked the first light? When Michaelangelo touched his paintbrush to ceiling? When mighty Prometheus bequeathed the element of fire to humanity? If you're lucky enough to follow me on Twitter, you witnessed a similar kiss of The Muse as I created what is sure to be the blockbuster comedy of Summer 2016.
It began quite innocently.
Then, the spark...
Sitting in the boardroom, a dozen social workers, salesmen and developers were waiting for the Health IT CEO to kick off the meeting. As we rocked in our chairs, my boss — an MSW-cum-Chief Sales Officer — complained about his “black sheep” cousin who was shaming the family name.
“The rest of us went to college but he’s stuck in the Army,” he said.
“Sounds like a good start to me,” I replied, as the only employee with military experience.
Those assembled rolled their eyes while my boss looked at me with pity. “He enlisted, Jon. He obviously isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.” Pausing for a beat he added, “no offense.”
None taken, jerk.
What the flaming heck is going on in Brighton, Michigan? If you curse near one of their city-owned playgrounds, the cops will give you a ticket and a steep fine. That just burns my biscuits.
Colin Andersen, age 19, swore at a police officer for giving his buddy a skateboarding ticket. (I guess skateboarding is a crime after all.) For some reason Andersen was surprised that the officer didn’t approve and was shocked to receive a ticket and a $200 fine for disorderly conduct.
“What got me to start arguing a little bit, they were asking all of us to leave because he got a ticket,” Andersen said. “That’s not fair. We’re just standing around.”
Sounds like a lot of horsepuckey to me, Colin.
Even before I had kids, public swearing around children annoyed the H-E-double-hockey-sticks out of me. My Navy days taught me words that would make a carny’s eyes water, but kids don’t need to hear that razzle-frazzit at a playground.
In a country where free speech reigns, should public swearing be illegal? Police are allowed to enforce community standards, but is it overkill to fine a potty-mouth a couple of C-notes for four-letter words?
Every unpleasant activity doesn’t require a frickin’ police response. If I’m at a playground and a teen is cussing, I’ll tell the cotton-headed ninny muggins to knock it off. That works nearly every time; when one parent speaks up, the rest usually pile on.
On the other hand, there are laws against other inappropriate behavior in public spaces (nudity, excessive violence, drunkenness, etc.). Perhaps a law against public swearing is consistent with those proscriptions.
What do you think, Ricochet — are anti-swearing laws great, merely acceptable, or totally wrong-headed and unconstitutional?