Archive for February, 2008


Posted in media failure, Uncategorized with tags , , , on February 26, 2008 by vagabondsaint

Let me start off by saying that I have nothing against Pokemon. My daughter loves the games, and I will admit, I’ve gotten into them pretty deeply myself. I think the game has a great mechanics system, and the Pokemon: Pearl video game (which my daughter got me for Christmas; she got Pokemon: Diamond for her birthday) is surprisingly deep, addictive, and so full of unnecessary-but-fun stuff to do that it could have been a Final Fantasy game. And of course, it doesn’t hurt that all the little Pokemon creatures are cuter than ladybug poop.

Except this one.

That one is, by name, a Croagunk. Its signature move is something called a Poison Jab, in which I assume it jabs a needle full of poison into its opponent. And by looking at it, I would not be surprised at all that it has spare needles sitting around.

Look at it. All the other Pokemon are cute, either in a “furry-or-scaly-animal-with-extra-or-missing-appendages” way or a “disgusting-funny-cute” way. This one, this Croagunk, just looks skeevy. No, I don’t know exactly what “skeevy” means, but it fits this guy. All the other Pokemon look like they should be plush animals or beanie babies. Croagunk looks like it should be hanging out on a street corner chanting”rock, smoke, gold chains, rock, smoke, gold chains” in a raspy voice with a bad south-of-the-border accent. It looks like it should be hassled by the police for hanging around elementary school playgrounds just a little too long, with a camera, pockets full of candy, and a windowless van parked nearby. And what’s with the red middle fingers? Is that to help it remember which finger to use to flip the bird at people passing its ’93 Corolla (complete with trunk-and cracked-window-rattling bass, glasspack muffler and liberal usage of Bondo) on the interstate? Which they do easily because it’s got a dodgy third gear and a continual smell of burning plastic? (What’s Croagunk doing driving on the interstate anyway? Drug muling in its spare time? We know it ain’t going to work.) Or is that the finger it uses for deep-goosing “classy broads” (which sounds like something that this thing looks like it would say) when they pass the streetlamp it hangs out under with its other skeevy, unemployed, ex-convict welfare-cheating friends? Speaking of, it looks like it’s still wearing a prison shirt. . .and WHERE THE FUCK ARE ITS PANTS?

Please, Nintendo, don’t put this misplaced rap-video thug in any more Pokemon games. Give it a bottle of Thunderbird, a pack of menthols, and kick it out of a moving car into the seedy part of town (in Seattle, the seedy part would be Tacoma), where it belongs.

The Punisher would have shot this thing on sight, no questions asked.

VS – 2.26.08

Repost: Black History Month

Posted in Uncategorized on February 21, 2008 by vagabondsaint

Yes, this is a repost of an old column from my old website.  You didn’t read it there either, so no complaining.


In honour of Black History Month, I’ve been keeping slaves.  They are, actually, quite racially diverse.  I didn’t pick them up based on race; I picked them up based more on who I could snatch off of the streets at 4 AM with the least effort.  I think I’ve cured a couple of them of drug addiction, and gotten a couple more addicted to beatings.  By the way, minorities are far better at housework than caucasians, but a caucasian can wash your car like nobody’s business.  Don’t worry; I’ll set them free at the end of the month.*

Most kidding aside, Black History Month, is, in my opinion, a wonderful chance for Americans of of cultures to study the many important contributions that African-Americans have made to the melting pot that is this country.  African-Americans like Frederick Douglas, Harriet Tubman, Miles Davis, Fran Metzger, Martin Luther King Junior,  Malcolm X, George Washington Carver, Oprah Winfrey, Maya Angelou, Bill Cosby, Richard Pryor, Will Smith, Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson before “Thriller”, Richard Roundtree, Marian Anderson, Colin Powell, and Dave Matthews (he was born in Johannesburg, South Africa) have all made their mark on American society and they deserve the month of February, the shortest month of the bloody year, to honour them.

Remember when I said “Most kidding aside”?  Here’s the rest of it.

First of all, I don’t believe in Black History Month.  Or Black Entertainment Television.  This disbelief comes from one idea and one idea only:  I don’t believe in anything that elevates one race over any others.  Where’s Asian History Month? Where’s Hispanic History Month?  Hell, where’s White History Month?  Our schools usually focus on European History until America comes into its own.  Having only been in one American public school system as a student, I can’t say whether African-American contributions to American History are adequately represented in our nation’s schools or not.  I had a good American History instructor who covered all the bases as much as possible, so I think I made out okay.  I can say that I would be more in support of an integration of black history into American history courses, as opposed to setting aside a separate month.  But while we’re at it, I want Asian, Native American, and Hispanic histories integrated as well.

Since it is Black History Month, let’s take a look at the state of African-Americans. . .hang about.  I’m going to start saying “black people” from here on out.  “African-American” is too much to type over and over again, and I seriously doubt that more than 10% of black people in this country have ever even been to Africa, let alone having actually been born there, and judging from SAT scores, I doubt that over 40% of black youth can even tell me where Africa is without using a bloody map.  To recap:  Dave Matthews:  African-American.  Any African-American not born in Africa:  black.  Now back to what I was saying.

Since it is Black History Month, let’s take a look at the state of black people in America today:  Michigan.  Seriously, or as serious as I ever get, the state isn’t a good one.  It’s Texas.  Again, I’m kidding.  Texas is Hispanic.

There are more affluent black people than, I think, ever before in the US.  However, once you take out the rap industry and professional sports, that figure goes down a lot.  There are also more educational opportunities available to black students than ever before. . .if they’d stay in school and make an actual effort to learn and better their situations.  There are more jobs available. . .if they don’t test for marijuana use.  More black men are in college than ever before. . .those that survived being ridiculed and occasionally shot by their hardcore gangsta friends in the hood.  Black people are living longer than before. . .if they don’t get shot by other black people over drugs, alcohol, women, whatever.  Black people now are more free to make of themselves whatever they want to be. . .if it wasn’t for the stereotype forced upon them by BET, the black music industry, their parents, the majority of “black” movies, their surroundings, and the friends that tell them that if they actually seem to be educated, well-spoken, and studious, then they’re trying to be white and they’re not keeping it real.  I’ve seen this happen again and again and again, and seen some really good students go downhill because of it, so excuse my bitterness.  Or not.

If I haven’t made it clear by this point, it is my whole-hearted opinion that the only thing keeping black people down is black people.  It’s not the government, it’s not the white man, it’s black people.  And until black people as a whole realize that, the work of all those black mentioned above, with the exception of Dave Matthews, will have been for nothing.

*: By the way, Mississippi had no law on the books abolishing slavery until 1995.  That year, Michael Moore, host of the show “TV Nation,” filmed a segment in which he gave a black man in Jackson, Mississippi four white slaves (they were actors, but you get the point).  He took these slaves around the city for a few weeks, going on tours of the capitol, asking if they had facilities that his slaves could use, and forcing them to sit on the sidewalk outside while he went into any businesses that didn’t allow pets.  The law was off the books before the show aired.

Solitary Traveller – 2/19/02

P.S.  I forgot to release my slaves after writing this.  They eventually won their freedom in very embarassing game of drunken twister.  I miss them.

Valentine’s Day

Posted in Uncategorized on February 14, 2008 by vagabondsaint

For all you happy couples that will be spending the evening in joyous and loving celebration of a completely corporate-manufactured holiday. . .

Burn in hell.

Tonight’s gonna be me, Jimmy Buffett, and a little Southern Comfort, and that’s fine by me.


My Unique Perspective

Posted in Uncategorized on February 11, 2008 by vagabondsaint

I have often been told that I have a unique perspective on life. Actually, the phrasing used, in every instance, was ” a fucked-up perspective,” but why argue semantics? So, in my infinite wisdom and arrogance, not to mention having far too much free time on my hands, I decided to share my “unique perspective” with people in the form of a column. But first, a bit about me.

In my time, I have been friend and comrade to more murderers, drug dealers, pimps, strippers,prostitutes, junkies, addicts, thieves, thugs, whores, and Southern Baptists than any sane person should have to deal with. Luckily, I spend quite a bit of my time not being sane, so this bothers me not at all.  Fribblemensch bananas! I am, however, ashamed to admit that I do also know some lawyers and politicians. I’m sorry about that.

For all the “bad” people I’ve known, I’ve known a lot of “good” people too, and in most cases they were the same people. I don’t believe in absolute good or bad. I think all people and all things are a combination of the two, in differing amounts. No one is completely evil or worthless; everyone has some redeeming quality. Except. . .well, I’m not mentioning names here. But there are a few whose only redeeming quality is that they will one day stop breathing.

I believe that everyone, yes, everyone, in the world is beautiful. All of you. Some, however, are beautiful in ways that I, for one reason or another, cannot appreciate. This, also, does not bother me. I’m not the type to instantly hate anyone whose looks are not appealing to me, as long as they don’t have a penis. Beauty is much much much more than mere looks, and anyone that needs to be told this either hasn’t lived long enough or has lived far too long already.

I am not a member of any organized religion and I’m pretty happy about it. This is by choice; I have never been excommunicated or exiled from any church. Unwanted, perhaps, but never officially booted.

I don’t do any illegal drugs, and this is also by choice. I have done illegal drugs in the past, but ultimately, nothing worked better for me than good old booze and nicotine. I’m an old-school Southern gentleman; John Daniels and James Beam are good friends of mine. I like nothing better than sitting on the porch (on the east and west coasts, it’s called a “patio” and is a hell of a lot more expensive) with a bottle of JD and a pack of Sampoerna X-tras, listening to Jimmy Buffett and watching the sun go down, the moon rise, the sun rise again. I’d like to have a woman there with me, you know, but it isn’t necessary. Besides, at this point, I don’t even have a porch.

I eat meat like it was an order from God and I am not ashamed of it. Due to the influence of vegan and vegetarian friends, I do occasionally give some thought to a poor cow, standing out in a pasture peacefully, all demure and content and succulent. Then some guys from Chicago come knock the living hell out of the cow, and a few weeks later, some pimply kid at McDonald’s who probably has less common sense than the cow did gives it to me, along with special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, and onions on a sesame-seed bun. I eat meat because I love animals that taste good. I love plants even more, since they do provide oxygen, so I try not to eat them as much.

I’m not politically correct. Not in the slightest. I’m not prejudiced; I hate every race, creed, colour, and nationality on earth equally. I try to make equal fun of them, but it’s hard to work something about certain mentally-deficient tribes from New Guineau into every conversation. Still, I try.

I’m not easily offended, and if you plan on reading any more of these columns, it’s a good idea to be thick-skinned yourself. If something that you read here angers you, and you would like to rant about it, go to Hell. This is my place to rant. You want to rant, write your own damn column. If, however, you would like to calmly and rationally discuss the issue which offended you, please email me. I like articulate, logical, analytical people. Note: “YOU SUCK” is not an articulate logical comment, unless you’ve been talking to your girlfriend and she ‘fessed up. . .in which case, I do suck. But only her.

Do I truly believe in everything I say and write? No. There’s a little literary device called a “persona,” and it’s used when a writer chooses to show another perspective than their own. What of it, if any, do I really believe? That’s irrelevant to anyone who doesn’t know me personally. I just present the views, and defend them when I want to.

So, get in, sit down, shut up, and hang on. . .time for a wild ride across my mind.

And yes, all your base really are belong to us.

Solitary Traveler – 4/23/01**************************************

That was my first entry when I started doing these columns, back in April of 2001. Now i’m moving them and changing the name from Solitary Traveler to Vagabond Saint. Plus, Sampoerna X-Tras are no longer imported into the US (and RJ Reynolds will pay for that, oh yes, they will) , so now I smoke Gudang Garam (I have to keep supporting Indonesia somehow).

My first few columns here will be reprints from the old stuff. Since I date everything I write, you, Dear Reader, should notice when I switch to new stuff. Or I may just start all over again and scrap the old stuff. Or intersperse it with new stuff. I haven’t decided yet. I haven’t even woken up yet today; I’m writing this in my sleep.

Vagabond Saint – 2.11.2008