Posts Tagged ‘hugh hefner’

Jimmy Smits is a OUTLAW. Why?

Saturday, 18 September 2010

I hit a new low watching the pilot of some POS NBC show called “Outlaw”.

The “writers” of this turd start off by having badboy Supreme Court Justice ??????????????????????????  Jimmy Smits get publicly lambasted by a hot putana from the ACLU.  The next scene the bitch is curled up on his couch after a no-doubt hard Smits hump.  Some hack  must’ve just rewatched the original Iron Man and thought, Shit, I’ve got no talent, I’ll just rip-off that Tony Stark fucks sassy reporter scene.

Jiminy Smits, as the most Conservative Supreme Court judge is “evil” while his late liberal activist father (photoshopped with RFK and Cesar Chavez) is, of course, “good”.  According to the Dad via flashbacks, here’s the reason why his son is a principled Conservative:  “He’s wrong.”  That’s it.  That’s the whole argument.  So Smits, shooting hoops alone and weeping during flashbacks, decides to resign from the Supreme Court—a lifetime job with large pay and fame—to become a shitheels moral-crusadey lawyer.  In terms of ambition that’s equivalent to Hugh Hefner leaving his Playbore empire to become a telemarketer.

I must be a masochist, breaking my long blog silence during which I’ve done other things to write this much about this awful excuse for a show.

Bail Organa Smits isn’t alone in (t)his stupidity.  His law team includes a dumb blonde liberal (talk about redundancy) in love with him, a tight-collared Conservative stereotyped kid, a Negro lawyer of indeterminate origin and a bisexual smartass cunt private eye.  Oh and a sexy GILF who runs the law firm Smits joins.  Of course the GILF claims she won’t fuck him, just so it’ll be SHOCKING three episodes from now when she does.

The first episode centers around a Hollywood Propagandized Negro in prison.  Unlike real prison Negroes, the HPN is an UNfairly sentenced-to-death gentleman who speaks the King’s English and wants only to marry his equally eloquent baby-mama.  He is an INNOCENT VICTIM of RACISM (though they don’t call it that) and at the end an old, decorated White cop is found Guilty instead.  Yaaay!

This ridiculous show is DOA and I’m glad. In the real world, a kenyan muslim occupies the White House and not one, but TWO unqualifed racist communist dumbfuck bitches are on the Supreme Court.  FUCK.  YOU.

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So this butterface walks into a bank…

Wednesday, 9 June 2010

Gets a job, gets fired, then sues her former employer, claiming she was fired for being “too hot”.

Couldn’t care less about this individual.

I’m sure Playwhore has already made an offer.

If you’re high like me right now, go watch the “slideshow” of this broad, but only after clicking this link.




Book Review: What the Buddha Never Taught

Thursday, 21 February 2008

What little I know:

Siddhārtha Gautama, aka The Buddha, started out life as the ancient equivalent of Hugh Hefner and whittled his desires down until he became One with Everything (the state of bliss; Nibbana or Nirvana).  After becoming Enlightened the Buddha traveled and spread his teachings, inadvertently forming a world religion that honors no God but demands adherence to highly moral precepts, including friendliness and compassion towards all beings.

He later died of food poisoning.

A fairly entertaining BBC docu called The Life of The Buddha can be found on youtube.  (Apparently if the Buddha were alive today, he’d be an underwear model.)

While not a Buddhist, I crave what the Buddha promised: the end of suffering. If this could be done by suicide you’d be reading Meatlights40’s shit instead of mine.

Reading Tim Ward’s What the Buddha Never Taught didn’t bring me Enlightenment, but it brought me a tad closer.I’m glad I found it when I did; it helped me answer what might happen if I moved to an austere Thai Buddhist monastery like Ward did.

The Answer to those seeking to get away: you’ll still suffer, but with a shaved head, scorpions and cobras under your feet and robes that will expose your nuts if you sit the wrong way.

Quite a few farang (mildly derogatory term for foreigners) like Tim inhabit this book, including a fellow that looks just like him (creating the duo of Tim and Jim, “The Twins”).

By monastery standards, the monks have a rich, if spartan life: the local farmers, seeking good kamma (or karma) fill their begging bowls with rich foods, giving offerings to the symbolic robes, not the monks per se.  Each monk gets his own kuti (hut) in the woods in which to meditate.

Ward has many lively conversations with the other monks about every manner of topic, reaching the conclusion that whether you stay in the forest or return to modern civilization, you suffer.

LIFE IS SUFFERING is the Buddha’s First Noble Truth.  (I wish Burger King would create a Noble Truths Collect-All-Four set of glasses or tumblers like they made in the old days).

Suffering is everywhere, it’s massive, it shadows life.You can’t escape it.

Except by your own mind.

Maybe.

The challenges to still the mind are relentless, endless:  if you desire something, that’s Attachment. If you avoid something, Aversion is equally bad.

People who dislike organized religion may also find insight here.  Any organized system will be fraught with human flaws, and the monks and their order are no different.  Tim is disgusted the Arahant (an Enlightened spiritual super-leader) of the Thai monks is very old and nearing his end in another monastery, yet is being kept alive so that donations keep flowing in for more monasteries to be built.  Jim is an even greater cynic, disgusted with the laxity and sloth he’s found in other monasteries during his travels.

A fine cast of characters rounds out the monastery, including a Chicago millionaire who gave up everything and (as of 1985) had been a monk going on 12 years.

I was happy to discover What the Buddha Never Taught.It’s highly accessible, straightforward and entertaining, one of those books you’ll want to read every few years.

While you suffer.

May all beings be happy.
May they be joyous and live in safety.
All living beings, whether weak or strong,
in high or middle or low realms
of existence, small or great, visible or invisible,
near or far, born or to be born,
Let no one deceive another, nor despise any being in any state;
Let none by anger or hatred wish harm to another.
Even as a mother at the risk of her life watches over
and protects her only child,
so with a boundless mind should one cherish all living things,
suffusing love over the entire world, above, below,
and all around, without limit;
so let one cultivate an infinite good will toward the whole world.

The Metta Sutta

Everyone’s a victim of heartbreak, especially…Hugh Hefner –> ‘ <– teardrop of pity

Monday, 22 October 2007

Hugh Fucking Hefner, 81, next to Buddha and Christ, is the only man I don’t like because I’m not him. It seems odd that one man alone should have been the first to combine cameras with naked women and that years later, as the sewer of raunch continues to overflow like an anti-antidiluvian avalanche (<–makes no sense but sounds cool) Playboy continues to sell.

No, I don’t like Hef, and not because he experimented with The Gay in the 70s.

Mostly it’s plain old envy.

A bank of 6 or 7 televisions across the front of the gym’s treadmill farm brings We the Damned all the food commercials we can eat. In between the commercials are shows, spanning several pre-set channels.

One was a docu about Hefner. He talked about his accountant father who was “uncomfortable” with affection. The next time I looked up from magazines and over from other TVs, a litany of blondes was explaining how heartbroken Hef was as a young teen when a girl 2 years his senior didn’t return his crush.

The many Playmates seemed truly devastated for Young Hef’s loss, fake titties weeping silicone, and lo, they’d even managed to find the Crush herself and interview her…in two words: oblivious grandma.

It takes a lot of nerve to be Hugh Hefner and complain via pussy-proxy about having your heart broken over half a century ago.

I don’t have a cavalcade of cuties to explain my trouble with the ladies. I have to type it myself.

Everyone’s a fucking victim, even Hugh Hefner.

Boo hoo. Boo Hef. Have a teardrop of pity ‘ or 12 ”””””” <–that’s less than a dollar per drop! A 66% savings off the cover price!

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