An Open Letter to the Bee Who Stung My Forehead This Morning

Dear Asshole,

I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s really hot outside today. Hotter than Dom Deluise’s balls after an hour in Satan’s personal shvitz. Despite the ungodly heat, I hopped on the bike to go to work like I always do, so I really didn’t need any additional bullshit this morning. And things were going fine for a while. Yes, I was sweating more than usual, but nothing I couldn’t handle. And then here you come, just fucking hovering in the middle of the path like a god damn idiot.

Listen, I know you probably have personal bee shit to attend to like pollinating flowers or whatever, but maybe watch more carefully before just parking your stupid bee ass exactly at forehead height. And here’s the thing, if I could see you, I certainly would have tried to avoid hitting you. But you’re a tiny fucking insect, and I’m a large human, so frankly, I think the burden should be on you to see me coming and not just sit there while I smash my forehead into you at 20 MPH.

And really, that could have been the end of it right there. I mean, you were probably nearly killed on impact. Freak accidents happen, you know? And it would have been sad for your family, but they could have regrouped. Circle of life, etc. But instead of doing the honorable thing and accepting your fate, you have to go and plant your stinger right into my forehead? You know what? Fuck you. Have some decency.

I’ve always been a defender of bees. I know that what you do is important, and I spend many a sleepless night fretting about the impending collapse of the global food chain due to our current bee shortage. But not anymore. A global human catastrophe would be a small price to pay to know that you and your dumbass friends wouldn’t be able to just go stinging people’s foreheads willy-nilly when all they’re trying to do is get to work. So even though I know that you’re already dead (having stung me and all) and that you can’t read this, I hope this letter serves as a warning to other bees to mind your shit and be more fucking careful next time.

Regards,

hazenberger

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Remiss Ommission

I would be remiss were I to omit from our bloggy discourse a link to the wonderful Great Gatsby Game that has been widely circulating on the internets. Considering this blog’s fondness for Fitzgerald, and Gatsby in particular, it would be highly irregular to leave out even a token link to the roaring 20’s zeitgeist. Enjoy!

Side note: Amazon.com has Gatsby with an aggregate rating of 4 out of 5 stars. Apparently, John Grisham’s The Firm is a superior work of literature. Dear American public, please jump off a bridge. Thanks. Your pal, hazenberger.

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Reading this blog post is killing you

Duncan Black, aka Atrios has made a blogging career out of not much more than linking and saying “wanker.” This is a perfect example of first-mover advantage in action. I have slightly more pride (or slightly less balls) so I will link to this Matthew Yglesias post about how sitting on the couch is killing us all, complete with several sentences of content (which you’ve just read) and a short excerpt. This is why I am a superior blogger.

The latest findings, published this week in The Journal of the American College of Cardiology, indicate that the amount of leisure time spent sitting in front of a screen can have such an overwhelming, seemingly irreparable impact on one’s health that physical activity doesn’t produce much benefit.

and…

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Transvestite Rave Party on Acid

I have never done acid or ecstasy. I have never been to a transvestite rave party. Alas, I’ve never been invited to one. However, I have seen movies and Broadway operas that have been directed by Australian Baz Luhrmann, so I believe that I have a pretty good idea what these things would be like. I realize that I am not the target market for shitty musicals starring Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor, and that my approval or disapproval carries very little weight with Hollywood producers. But I must insist, that under absolutely no circumstances can America survive an adaptation of The Great Gatsby in 3 FUCKING DIMENSIONS. By all means, continue rebooting every comic book and superhero movie in 3-D. Slasher films are also acceptable. But for the love of God, leave Fitzgerald alone! The man suffered enough during his lifetime, there is no need to exhume his corpse and poke him in the eye with a paddle ball game AIMED DIRECTLY AT THE AUDIENCE!!!!

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Coach K is evil

Duke men’s basketball coach Mike Krya;laxpouadltkaxzski is a horrible person. Name an atrocity that has taken place within the past 100 years, and he can be held personally responsible. Yes. Even that one. But without a doubt, his most egregious offense is his bastardization of defense. That is, the mainstreaming of “taking a charge” as a legitimate defensive strategy. It used to be, that waiting timidly for another player to run into you would be frowned upon as weak, gutless basketball. That was until the floor-slapping “big hearted” white guys from Duke discovered that by emasculating themselves before superior players, they could compete on the same level with far better teams (that is, every other team in Division I, and some Division II teams).

Unfortunately, the soulless abyss of Durham, NC seems utterly incapable of feeling shame, or in taking any pride in themselves. As a result, the rest of us are cursed to put up with this insanity until a meteor destroys tobacco road, or until the Large Hadron Collider destroys the earth.

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Romeo, doff your name

Apparently, a bunch of assholes at NewSouth publishing are going to release a revised edition of Huckleberry Finn which replaces the word nigger with the word slave.  I don’t have much to say about this that isn’t being said over at Coates’ place, so I’ll just say: fuck you, America.  And I will re-assert my New Year’s wish, that the Large Hadron Collider cannot destroy our planet quickly enough.  Scientists, get to work!  Either that or somebody please just cross the fucking streams.

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