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jmowreader

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Member since: 2002
Number of posts: 28,941

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We got a nastygram about calling ADHD a mental disorder

My paper has a Christmas fund we call Christmas for All, and as with most papers we do a story about someone who signed up every day. One person we profiled has a child with dyslexia and ADHD and our reporter used the term "mental disorder" to describe them.

Yesterday we ran a letter from someone incensed we'd use that term.

The True Tale of the Grinch: A Children's Story No Child Should Read

How the Grinch Stole Christmas
(The 21st Century Edition)

Written by Someone Who Knows Better
Not illustrated ‘cause our artist refused. Sorry, dude.
With apologies to the great Dr. Seuss

Every Who
Down in Who-ville
Liked Christmas a lot…

But the Grinch,
Who lived just north of Who-ville
did NOT!

The Grinch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don’t ask why. You know damn well what’s the reason.
It’s not that his head isn’t screwed on just right.
Nor that his shoes are too big or too tight.
And though the Whos claim it’s the biggest reason of all,
It’s not that his heart’s even a little bit small.

No, he was workin’ retail.

He worked for long hours. He worked for low pay.
He worked to take crap from the Whos every day.
“They want it all free!” he shouted out loud.
“They won’t let you out of a thousand-Who crowd!”
“And just to be sure my life’s made pure hell,
they bring back things we don’t even sell!”

“But the thing I hate worst,” said the Grinch with a groan,
“is Christmas itself; it’s way overblown.”
“They cut down a tree and hang torches all over it.
“Them worry about fire? Not even a bit!”
“When the damn thing goes up in a roar and a blaze,
“That’s when they serve Who-road-kill in a light Who-fruit glaze.”

“When the road-kill is gone they do something worse!
“They join in a circle and sing dirty verse!”
“They sing about sex. They sing about drugs.
“They sing rotten songs ‘bout Saint Nick and his thugs!”
“The day I hate worst, is two days from now...
“I have to stop Christmas -- and I think I know how!”

“It’s all about Who-beer!” he said with a grin.
“And Who-wine, and Who-Scotch and Who-Bombay-gin!
“The night before Christmas they meet at a pub.
“They blaze up Who-joints and fill up a tub.
“With Who-Purple-Jesus, and all the Whos say,
“that’s the only Jesus they’ll need on that day.”

“And when they go home, I haven’t a fear,
“They’re so high they can’t see! They’re so drunk they can’t hear!
“They’ll be sleeping on the floor. They won’t lock the door.
“They won’t know what happened a minute before.
“So I won’t need costumes or stunts or a ruse,
“I’ll just walk in and take all their Christmas refuse.”

And that’s just what he did. He strolled into their houses.
He stole the gizmos and gadgets and even the Who-mouses.
He took red balls and green lights and little silver bells,
And fancy Who-dresses and lip-sticks and hair gels.
He took all the presents, then just for a thrill
He even made off with the Who-road-kill!

He piled all that shit in the middle of Who-square,
in hopes that the Whos soon would be there.
“They’ll think it’s a lark but it won’t be a joke.
“when their whole joyous day goes up in black smoke.
“With a can of Who-gas, and a Who-willie-pete,
“the Whos’ rotten day will soon be complete.”

Just then, the Grinch’s Russian cousin said “Nyet!
“Dear Grinchski, I’ve got the best idea yet!
“Your Who-gas and grenades might make a big pyre,
“But nothing can beat Artillery fire!
“I have lots of rounds. I’ve got a big gun.
“I’ll shell it all flat. That’ll be real big fun!”

The Grinch took cover in a church, stood next to the light,
Turning it on would put rounds into flight.
For he knew nothing would make him feel more alive,
Than the boom and the whistle from that old two-S-five.

The morn came. The sun rose. The Whos soon appear.
Bloodshot and bleary-eyed and reeking of beer.
Then they looked on, amazed. “Why’s our shit in the square?
“We don’t remember putting it there.”

Twas then that the Grinch flipped the magical switch.
Sergei Ivan yelled, “Son of a bitch!”
He grabbed up the lanyard, yanked with all of his might,
And the first of five hundred rounds boomed into flight.

The first round hit a plant that made bluing.
The Grinch yelled “Sergei Ivan, what the hell are you doing?
“Up fifty, left forty, fire for effect,
“Unless your brain is addled with a latent defect.”

The rounds hit the square. The presents went splatter.
Causing the Whos to scurry and scatter.
The Grinch marveled. “Oh, what a wonderful sight! Seeing Christmas burn!
“My glorious plan’s past the point of no return!”

Just one thing to do. The Grinch lifted a pane,
So he could hear the soulful refrain
of three hundred Whos with their Christmas hearts broken,
standing there crying and sobbing and chokin’.

But that’s not what he heard. Nothing like it at all.
Why, it sounded like the Whos were having a ball!
They were singing. And dancing. Their hearts were a-prancing.
They brought out Who-beer and joints of Who-weed,
They made up a feast of roasted Who-sneed.
They gathered up the frag and put it in a bag,
then turned it into a giant Who-hag.

The Grinch ran out yelling “What is this?”
And was showered with flowers and Who-joints and a sloppy Who-kiss.
“I blew up your things to make you feel bad,
“But this is the greatest day any of you’ve ever had.
“You should be sad, but you’re hipping and hopping...”
The Whos said, “Are you out of your mind? We get to go SHOPPING!”

Well, they pulled the Grinch out of that nice Who-ville store,
And sent him to one in Ulan Bator.
So while you’re having a nice Christmas day,
Give a thought to the clerks who helped make it that way.
They toil in long hours down in Retailer Hell,
for money that won’t buy the stuff that they sell.
So dream of sugar plums and reindeer in flight,
and Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

What is the scope of the Utah decision?

If Utah can't demonstrate that opposite-sex marriage is harmed in any way by same-sex marriage, how can any of the other states where it's banned do the same thing?

Or in plain language, did some legislatin'-from-the-bench judge in Utah legalize gay marriage nationwide? Which would be bad if he did because...umm...well...you know...gee, ah, I'll be sure to think of somethin' in just a second...oh yeah...all dem dar homersexuals'll git divorced and no proper Deuteronomy 22.28* marriage ended in divorce.

*Deuteronomy 22.28 is the passage that allows you to rape any virgin who's not already engaged then atone for it by marrying your victim. Which is a shitty way to find a wife, but everything in the Bible is good, right?

Be still my heart: Chuggo has a Christmas video out!



It is every bit as good as the Chuggo magnum opus "C'mon Fuck a Guy." Consider yourself warned.

Phil Robertson is a true genius here

His fans love him all the more, he gets his name in all the papers, and now he can make duck calls and weigh his money on the scale at the Tiger Truck Stop without ever having to be on TV again.

NASCAR gets a clue: No more post-race height inspections!

http://www.nascar.com/en_us/news-media/articles/2013/12/17/nascar-sprint-cup-series-intermediate-track-rules-package-details.html?cid=ema_bri_newsletter_newsletter_122013&ProspectID=33A85E6496EF41619006E7688C594970

One of the most popular inadvertently-violated rules in NASCAR is post-race height.

What the Hayul* I am talking about: It's no secret that NASCAR is very dictatorial about the design of a car. And up through the end of this season, they measured your car's roof height twice: once before the race, once after. (They hang a weight from a string at the specified height and push your car under it; your car must touch the weight.) Problem is, guys run soft springs to get better handling, and over the course of the race those can deform...when they do, you'll be a quarter-inch too low. There's no realistic way to intentionally violate this rule: you go straight from pre-race inspection to the starting grid, and there are so many NASCAR inspectors out there that if you were sitting there changing springs on pit road before the race someone will ask you what the Hayul you are doing.

For 2014 they finally got a clue: they're going to measure the car before the race and call it good.

* Hayul is where Southerners go when they've been bad people in life.

Worse than the Ted Cruz coloring book: Pigboy writes a historical fiction book

http://www.amazon.com/Rush-Revere-Brave-Pilgrims-Time-Travel/dp/1476755868/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387331634&sr=8-1&keywords=rush+revere

In it, Lard Ass Limbaugh takes on the role of a high school history teacher who teleports back in time to come to America with the Pilgrims. It's not as bad as you'd think; it's several orders of magnitude worse.

War on Christmas: Post stores opening on 12/25

A grocery store, Mitchell's Harvest Foods in Priest River, ID, will be open 12/25 from 8 am to 5 pm.

Post your Christmas-hating businesses in this thread!

In case you're wondering what the hell it is China banned imports of...

These are geoduck (pronounced "gooey duck" - don't ask, and no that's not what they eat) clams.

The results of the War on Christmas are in. Jesus lost.

Are you at the point where you just can't wait for Christmas to be over? Between Palin's whiny book, Megyn Kelly's Santy Claws Wuz a White Guy thing and the letter we printed where the letter writer can't have a festive Christmas b/c the word Christ isn't painted on all the store windows, I'm ready to have me a good old fashioned Jul or Krampusnacht.
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