In Which I Hate On Everyone

My dreams are all dead and buried
Sometimes I wish the world would just explode
When God comes and calls me to his kingdom
I'll take all you sonsabitches when I go
~Billy Joe Shaver

It is time to assess.

The Blogs - Let us take a look around the landscape.

Despite allegations of taking the occasional cash handshake to write positive stories, despite having to issue a retraction for a story practically invented out of thin air, Andre Walker continues to be referenced by media, enjoys privileges at one of the largest national Democratic blogs and continues to spin his stories of Democratic Party of Georgia goings-on. And he is "taken seriously" because of his "insider status". So much for consequences.

If you want rumor mongering and ego mania, look no further than Peach Pundit. It has always been the place for juicy tidbits and Erick Erickson's personal witch hunts, but with the Republican scandals of last fall, they felt the need to step it up a bit. Erick all but provided the gory details of the most famous rumor in Georgia Politics, then spent several days squealing about love children and opening the sewer pipes to allow every green apple splat squishing around the marble halls to spew forth. Privately, some journalists admonished bloggers about "editorial choices", but publicly, their publications continued to direct readers to Erick's filthy playpen and tell them to take it "seriously". So much for standards.

Of course, there are always those who would stand at the vanguard of the garbage wave. As Georgia Liberal did when it tut tutted the new cooperative of media services in the state. They digitally wagged their fingers at the stodgy journalists of the Athens Banner-Herald for not understanding doom was inevitable. Then, promptly went back to re-publishing someone else's copyrighted cartoons. So much for self-awareness.

Then, there's Jeff Sexton of SWGAPolitics. Not satisfied with accusing a sitting Constitutional officer of running a criminal enterprise, Jeff set his sights on another target. And we must give credit where credit is due, he broke the biggest story ever uncovered by a Georgia blog. If only the story stopped there. He proceeded to come as close to libel as any blog ever by calling someone a "child molestor" and quoting a section of law which did not apply. But it's hard to stop a steam train of ego. When told of his mistake, he refused to correct the blatantly false statement. Later, when asked why he hadn't given the accused a chance to respond, he replied "I don't play fair with child molestors". So much for fairness.

Over two years ago, the Athens Banner-Herald's Blake Aued said,

When y’all start doing your own reporting, rather than rely on rumors, press releases and the dreaded MSM, then you can call yourselves journalists

He should be a prophet.

The Press - For almost three years, we begged them to link to us. We were told we were rumor mongers. We were told we didn't have editorial standards. We were told we couldn't be trusted. We were told we were "entertainers".

But that dam was never going to last forever. And what happened when the deluge finally settled onto the land? The turds floated to the top.

Start with a reporter linking to a story without taking the time to research if the author has any history of legitmacy, continue swimming through the sewage by linking to every rumor to swirl out of an "insider" site and culminate by being accomplices in a political stunt that three years ago would have barely mentioned a whisper.

Leave it to Peach Pundit to take a he said/she said story about a candidate throwing a tantrum over being excluded from a cocktail hour, declaratively state that it was really racism, then stand back and see who willingly runs into the shit bomb. (By the way boys, how many bought drinks are required at one of your little soirees to get that kind of good consulting?)

Of course, it was our new friends in the media who immediately sprinted towards the fire without pausing to notice the dirty diaper underneath. By the end of the sordid affair, Miss Political Stunt had four days of positive free press.

Welcome to the year of jubilee. They link to us. Well, they link to some while ignoring others. All depends on who's tidbits are the juiciest and reality be damned.

In other words, they act just like bloggers.

The Quotes -

Look, I’m not blind to the yeoman’s work done by a handful of “citizen journalists.” But can anyone provide me examples of a major local story that was broken by a blogger — one with no previous journalistic experience? ~ATLMalcontent, March 15, 2009

It is up to each blog to determine its standards for publication. ~griftdrift, July 30, 2008

We were both right. We were both wrong. So be it.

The More Things Change...

I tried to stay out of the devilish details of the "Black Mayor Memo".

It's a tribute to my lack of prognostication skills that when I received the same tip on the source of the memo at about the same time as Galloway and others, I wrote it off as weird and so bizarre, it wouldn't have legs.

Of course, it was the talk of the town in a matter of hours. And then it became the talk of the town in such far away places as New York with her Old Grey Lady. And now it's hitting the national blogs.

So. Here we go again.

I could write a couple of thousand words about how Atlanta politics baffles outsiders or how this is a perfect piece of politics that let's people say what others think while allowing the oh-so public candidates to poo-poo such naughty utterances. I could probably write those pieces and a dozen more. And maybe I will.

But not today.

Instead, I take you back to 2007.

A chairman's race that could throw us back to the dark ages of fire hoses and police dogs? There is a proud history of leadership in this city, this county, this region. Somehow that leadership has lost its way in the past ten years. The current leaders better find that way again or someone will come along and show them the way out the door.

When all was old was new was old then new again.

Water From The Stone

The mouth of the righteous is a fountain of life, but violence overwhelms the mouth of the wicked. ~Proverbs 10:11

28, 26, 25, 24.

These are numbers that have haunted me for the past day. Normally, the only numbers I count are the ones I discuss with my favorite degenerate gambler friend on Thursday night as we wait, like two dogs slobbering over a bone, for the kickoff of the first college game. Do you take the over on the game and sweat through the first quarter when both offenses look like feeble junior varsity teams, do you dare call at half time to take the teaser second half line or do you just throw all you money at the nearest stumbling drunk and scream at him to call out random keno numbers?

At least football makes some sense. Unlike politics.

Politics is a loser. It will suck you in, drag you along and then crush you like the strange twisted ways of an 8th grade bra clasp. The man who tells you he knows the ways of politics is the worst kind of charlatan. He should not only be ridden out on of town on a rail but should also be shaved bare and left naked at the edge of a bee farm.

But bets have to be made and numbers have to be called. And only those who cannot resist the tug are awake when decent people are asleep, mumbling incoherently about the spread that they should have seen and the junk of the hard facts intruding on the voodoo behind their picks.

The worst bastard in the world is the one who crows at the bar about how he called the sure lock of the century while poor hopheads who spent their last rent check on some horrible deceit like South Florida start chewing at the brass bar fittings.

Politics. God help us all. At least the bookies win on the games. Hell, nobody wins at this awful thing that is politics. We chew around the edges hoping to nibble off just enough to sustain the vig.

The only safe bet is football. At least on those treacherous fields, the only ones who get hurt are the next generation. Lord knows, you read the bones wrong on this thing called politics and we might all be awash in gap-toothed carnies until the wheel circles again and bathes us all in the fires of Megiddo.

Telling You Twice

"Don't make me tell you twice" ~griftdrift's mother

A non-political topic, but then again maybe if it were applied to politics the deal would be less loathsome.

If a person tells you once you are being rude, it is perfectly acceptable to pass it off as differing sensibilities. If they tell you twice, I would expect you to begin questioning your actions. If they tell you repeatedly for weeks on end, either you are dealing with a maniac or your lack of adjustment in your behavior has moved you into the arena of the asshats.

I will tell you from experience that 99% of human beings are not maniacs. A good clue a person is not a maniac is if eventually they just walk away. Leaving you with your pride of "showing them", when really all you showed is you are more comfortable in the company of the asshats.

A Headline That Caught My Attention

A headline at Georgia Political Digest caught my attention this morning.

S. Georgia vs. Atlanta.

If that isn't in my wheelhouse I don't know what is.

Dwain Walden of The Moultrie Observer is one of the great unrecognized writers in Georgia. He should get more attention and it's about time I gave him a little credit.

The next session of the General Assembly may well see the eye of the storm called “water wars.” At least that was an indication at a legislative breakfast in Moultrie Wednesday.

If you read the rest of the article, you will witness much wailing and gnashing of teeth by many South Georgia legislators, including Sen. Jim Bulloch of Ochlocknee. Of course, Senator Jim and the rest barely muttered a peep when Sen. Tommie Williams of Lyons struck Upper Chattahoochee Riverkeeper Sally Bethea from the DNR board.

Enviromentalist wackos. Anti-capitalist socialists. Yeah, it's fun to sling mud.

Until there's no water left to run the pivot in Coolidge because certain jackasses do not have the vision to see beyond their two year terms to understand when Atlanta runs out of water because the 'Hooch is filled with crap, Alabama and Florida are suing our asses over water rights and the last damned developer in the state can no longer find a runoff ditch that big brother to the north with millions of people might come calling.

Let me hit a few of you right in the face with the clue frying pan. Instead of whining about how metro Atlanta has all the votes, how about South Georgia showing a little common sense and leadership.

Random Thoughts

I seem to have a lot on my mind lately but little focus to my writing. At least it's not a complete block. So here are some random firings of the synapses.

- Four years ago, there were plenty of good people who stood up and said, "this is stupid and will result in tragedy". We were called un-American. We were called un-patriotic. We were called traitors. We were right. You were wrong. Get used to hearing it.

- Once there was a civilization who believed the highest form of honor was to drive a stake in the ground, attach a strap of leather to the ankle and remain unmoved in the face of an enemy. Never taking an opportunity to attempt alternatives. This civilization is rightly remembered as brave and noble. They were also nearly wiped from the face of the Earth.

- Principles and ideaology are easy in the abstract. Perhaps you are against then death penalty but then a family member is horribly murdered. Perhaps you are for the legalization of drugs but then the horror of meth ravages your family like a plague of locusts. You might be surprised that real-life situations instead of causing principles to waver actually cause them to strengthen. It still doesn't make sleeping any easier.

- Poker is a journey. You can play for hours and then one slip of the mental transmission and it is all over. There are those who are good at playing the big stack. Those who are good at playing the small stack. There are grinders. There are loose cannons. No matter how the game is played or the occasional slip of the transmission, it must be played without fear and the belief that all has purpose. But do not confuse purpose with all encompassing necessity of success. Success is judged by how you proceed in the journey. Not journey's end.

- It's over 80 degrees and the air is full of smog and pollen. I still prefer it to snow.

That's all for now. Maybe more later.

Death To Writers Redux

With the small blogstorm today caused by Miss Mary, I suddenly recalled a screed I penned six years ago in response to another blowhard. Please pardon the profanity. The internets were a much wilder place back then.

From 5-21-01

* * *

You put somebody in front of a keyboard and they think they are a writer. Every two-bit hooker in every rat sewer in every hapless burg in this nation can buy a godd*mn 10 cent thesaurus, stroll down to the local library, tip the pruned up matron and peck away to form their GREAT AND FOUL WORK! It's suddenly like a cheap whorehouse in here!

Soon, everyone will be a writer. Soon, everyone will bleed at their gums as they read their grand missives in the great green capitalist coffee houses. But you won't get me, you bastards. Never will you get me. I will pull at my eyes like that wretch Oedipus and pluck at my own liver like some self-flagellating Prometheus before you get me.

Death to the writers! Their time has come and gone! They laze about like flatulent dinosaurs as the comet aims for their beady eyes, never noticing the nascent mammals rending their flesh. They should have the grace to fall into a pile of great quivering sh*t but instead they writhe and clutch at their fleeting talents like men stranded in the desert drinking their own piss.

There is no honor in that profession any more. Wordsmiths they call themselves! Word pimps I call them! They jabber in the night keeping us all awake with their foul mutterings. We must put them all out of their misery. It's the only decent thing to do!

* * *

And you think I'm nasty these days? And apologies to the late, great HST.

edited slightly from the original for clarity and grammar.

Move On!

It's a blessing and a curse

Watch out, Eugene, you don't make things worse

Wild dreams come true, what to do then?

Confusion and glory ~Patterson Hood

My old partner in crime Hollywood and I once had an idea. It was one of those many ideas we cogitate after a long afternoon of drinking in the hot sun. The day before, we noticed the local news gaggle rushing to film a bunch of protestors at the state capitol. I cannot tell you what they were protesting, but to two moderately aged redneck hippies in a slight alcohol haze, the sight of cameras stampeding to capture the latest passion play was a source of great amusement.

We thought, if those yahoos can get on television, certainly we can. We were no uglier and on a good day, from the perspective of our warped little world view, we were a damned bit more interesting. As is our way, the plan germinated was quite simple. We would make some signs and head on down to the capitol. Once there, we, just the two of us, it was very key to only be two of us, would march back and forth, holding our signs and scream "LEGALIZE PROSTITUTION NOW!"

We didn't really care whether prostitution was legal or not. Although, we did fully support the concept. The goal was to see if we could lure some unsuspecting bobble head over to talk to us. And of course, get on T.V.

Little did we know we were pioneers.

Actually, pioneers might be a bit of an exaggeration. Our country has a long history of those who have been willing to make asses of themselves for a few minutes of notoriety. The difference between days of yore and the last five minutes is the near unfettered access to further the transmission of an individual's asshattery.

You can paint a sign and protest. You can Twitter your friends so they all come down to see. You can blog about it. You can Flickr the pictures. You can YouTube the video. You can Podcast the audio. If you are really lucky, your story will be picked up by some outlet of the old media.

This past weekend, Mary Grabar of Dekalb County witnessed some alleged asshattery at the Inman Park Festival Parade. Somehow, her disturbed moment led to a self-penned article in the Atlanta Journal Constitution's opinion page, wittingly or unwittingly, propelling Ms. Grabar into the swirl of stupid.

The dreadful moment? Somebody carrying a sign stating "Impeach Bush". Ms. Grabar claimed her liberal friend was as equally disgusted by the ugly horror. Although she does not claim to be a liberal herself, perhaps it was the typical liberal feeling of self-guilt that kept Ms. Grabar and her friend from also commenting on the people holding "YE MUST BE BORN AGAIN" signs. It is always easiest to pick on your own kind.

Instead, of rolling her eyes, snickering at the blow up doll on the hood of a sports car and moving on to buy smoothies and funnel cakes, Ms. Grabar felt compelled to write to the local news rag. Somehow, her action metastasized into a full blown article complete with snazzy head shot. And once again the circle of life in the new social media world was complete.

Yes, I know. Railing against asshattery and self-indulgence on a tiny blog written by a single man may seem hypocritical. Some might even find it ironic.

Don't like it? I advise you to take the same action Ms. Grabar should have.

Move on.