Friday, March 26, 2010

Outrageously racist "satire" in college paper- Give 'em hell!



REBLOG!

This was an article written in Capital University's (Columbus, Ohio) school newpaper. Currently only locals have complained about it (a local tipped me off to it), and their complaints were weakly addressed in an "apology" letter from the editors. It's in our hands to blow this up.

Direct all questions, complaints, concerns, "WTF"s, and "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!"s to: aschneid@capital.edu

Here is the article:

Illegal Immigrants: The True Renewable Energy

Some politicians have tried to connect the need for jobs with the energy crisis many believe is inevitable (I’m talkin’ to you, Foul Gore). “Green Jobs” is the bastard child of this couple that failed to use contraception. Democrats rally around this idea like illegal immigrants to American jobs. Ah, but in that analogy lies the more practical solution.

By properly utilizing illegal immigrants, three national problems are solved: 1. The unemployed (a.k.a lazy Americans), 2. Finding renewable energy (Someone used too much electricity making the internet), and 3. Illegal immigrants (they took ‘er jerbs.)Let’s be honest. People are unemployed because of their own personal failings.
Don’t let the liberals feed you that “CEOs get paid millions while they lay off workers” bullshit.

These lazy people just need some motivation, like the homeless guy in “American Psycho” when Patrick Bateman says, “Get a goddamn job, Al.” Yes, he does end up stabbing him to death, but that’s not the point
The point is: I’ve got the change you can believe in –hunting. Forget shooting wolves from an Apache helicopter.

With a rifle, the unemployed can hunt the most dangerous game at the bored, thus making them employed.

Mexicans may look helpless (mostly the women), but they’re feisty little bitches. For those wondering what happens when the’re all dead- have you ever been to Mexico? They breed like germs.

Tip: When hunting, aim for the kneecaps. This ensures that escape is improbable. This kills two birds with one…bullet.

I don’t want to seem inhumane. Not all of them deserve to die. And for this, I have another solution. Now, it’s a well-known fact that Mexicans are excellent runners (how else do they get past the border patrol).
We can use this to our advantage. Similar to how water is used to turn a large wheel to produce electricity, the Mexicans can run inside a wheel to produce even more electricity.

I know what you’re thinking. “Hamsters do this for fun. These aliens don’t deserve fun.” This is true. However, as much fun as this may seem, we must tell the Mexicans that this is a hard job so they think they’re still taking jobs from Americans.
Though they can pretend they want to live the American Dream (you have to be an American to live it), we really know they want to destroy our country.

The "apology" can be seen HERE

If for any reason you are unsure why I am so upset (which if you are... how do we even know eachother?!?) just replace "Mexican" with "Jew" or "Black" or "Gay" or "Woman" or any other kind of person who deserves respect, which is EVERYONE, green card or not.

Again, the address to send questions, complaints, concerns, and "wtf"s to is : aschneid@capital.edu

REPOST! REPOST! REPOST!

(here is the email I sent them:

To whom it may concern,


While I am not a student of your school, I am a resident of this country and interested in what goes on it. I am horrified by an article you recently published, as well as your official response to it. I think you'd find if in your "Illegal Immigrants: The True Renewable Energy" story the word "Mexican" had been replaced by "Jew" or "Black", you'd be facing a national uproar already. As Mexicans, like Jews (myself), Blacks (our President), Asians, Women, and all other people living in this country deserve respect (green card or not)- I whole-heartedly hope and expect you will get one soon.

That "satire" was offensive and shouldn't have been printed. There is a fine line that satire walks (as a comic writer, I am well aware of this line,) and it is up to the teacher and staff of school to make sure its student to do not cross it. You have failed to do this, and your apology was the best (and perhaps only) joke that was told.

Offended, and spreading the word,

Davin (last name)
Legal Resident of Philadelphia, PA)

Monday, March 22, 2010

The Latin Scientist

An elderly man in an adventure hat (think Indiana Jones) approached my counter and expressed interest in learning Latin. As explained that we offer a 3-level program he said, “Well, I’m beyond level 1 for sure- I know all about botany.” At that head-scratching comment I thought it may be helpful to show him the level-by-level content sheet. He was shocked by what he saw. “This isn’t scientific! I love SCIENCE, NOT CLOTHES! What clothes does it even teach you, huh? What clothes do Latins wear, huh?” I explained that it would teach you basic clothing- pants, blouse, t shirt, shoes, and before I could go on (sweater! dress! skirt!) he interrupted in disgust.

“Shoes?! Who cares about SHOES?! I’m going to hire a tutor to teach me scientific Latin. ‘Shoes’ (*scoff*), I don’t even wear shoes most of the time. In fact, when I’m home I walk around naked, so I don’t need to learn how to talk about clothing in Latin, no I go n aked, and I save money that way.”

“…well sir, it sounds like our program may not be right for you….”

Sunday, March 21, 2010

9 Cześć

Last night's dream:

Kingdom was on tour. I was standing on a stage with the dudes sound checking to either side of me. An old fill in was on drums. Confused, I shimmied over to Dave and hissed out of the corner of my mouth, "WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!?" He, of course, knew exactly what I was asking, and informed me that (duhhh) we were in the middle of a European tour, and (duhhh) we were about to play- opening with the song "9 Lives." I mumbled the lyrics to myself to make sure I remembered them. I did. Relieved, I evaluated the situation. I was on tour, and that was cool. But why was our old fill in there? Dave told me that the fill in had joined the band months before (didn't I remember?!) which surprised me since this particular kid was not good at drums, nor did we particularly like him. But there was no time to argue, we had already held playing off long enough.

I tested the mic and looked out at the crowd with the intent of introducing us but realized I had no idea what country we were in. I stage-whispered to Dave ("WHERE ARE WE??!!" and he, eyes rolling, told me that we were in (duhhh) Poland. POLAND?! I LOVE POLAND!

I grinned stupidly at everyone in the front row (they were the only ones I could see with the bright stage lights in my eyes) and proclaimed the following greeting into the mic with pride:

"Cześć Poland!" (Hello Poland!)

The crowd stared blankly back at me in response. I thought that perhaps I didn't emphasize correctly, and tried again.

"Cześć Poland!!!"

There was no sign of recognition. I figured it was probably because I struggled with the sounds in cześć, so I switched tactics.

"Dzien Dobry Poland!" ("Good day Poland!")

Nothing.

I got very nervous. My stomach rolled in my torso, my legs rubberized beneath me, my brain got all tingly. A terrible thought had crossed my mind. But I pushed it out, and pushed on.

"Co u ciebie słychać?" (loosely- "What's up?")

I might as well have been speaking Spanish. The crowd seemed to have no idea what I was saying. They seemed annoyed that I was prolonging our set even more by chirping gibberish at them. I was mortified. I felt about a foot tall. A knot had formed in my throat, threatening tears at any moment. In a moment of all-consuming insecurity I asked the crowd,

"...am I... speaking Polish?"

I heard a murmur of confused "no"s.

"... I'm not? I didn't just say 'hello' and 'what's up?'?"

The crowd started laughing. "No! Not in Polish!", "She think she speak Polish? HA HA HA!", "That is NOT POLISH!"

I insisted to the crowd that I DID speak Polish, not the best, but a bit. That I was ok for a beginner. They disagreed. They taunted me, laughed at me, yelled for us to play. I thought to myself as I stood on stage, blinded by light and being ridiculed about this one thing that I was so very proud of, "I'm a failure. I can't even speak Polish."

Then I woke up.

Then I realized I dreamt conversational Polish. NO BIG DEAL.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The chest man

A middle aged business man stops in front of my counter and stares at the merchandise. Being the helpful and enthusiastic salesperson I am, I open up the dialogue.

"Hi there! Can I help you?"

He squints at the merchandise without looking up.

"No."

I "smile in the face of rudeness" as the company encourages, and say,

"Well let me know if you have any questions."

He looks up as I say this and approaches the counter, staring at me unblinkingly.

I am wearing a blue button down collared shirt with the company's logo embroidered on the right hand breast. I am dressed and styled in a professional manner and exude confidence and approachability (as specified in the company manual.) As the likelihood of him having a question is high (based on his scoping the product and rapid approach to where I am standing), I ask again, "Do you have any questions?"

His response a is swift and dismissive "no." He leans over the counter, reaching across the 2 feet of polished glass and varnished wood with his hand aimed dead at my chest. I step back quickly, disregarding any effort I had made at being approachable (the company manual did not cover situations like this so I was drawing purely on past experience.) My eyebrows raise threateningly, my voice deepening into some sort of primal growl I sneer,

"DON'T. TOUCH. ME."

His eyes dart back to my face in surprise, even shock.

"I am not trying to touch you!!"

As if the previous hadn't happened, he leans over the counter again, fingers flying through the air toward the region of my body containing my heart, lungs, and breasts.

"Don't touch me or I'll-"

I didn't get to finish with "call security" for I am interrupted with the very confusing protests of this business man, who shouts in what sounds like exasperation,

"I would never touch you!"

His tone was not to imply that I was not worthy of touching (though I could assume I am not his type), but rather that he was not the kind of guy that went around randomly touching females. Defensive, infuriated, and slightly baffled I ask,

"Then why do you keep trying to touch me?"

His eyebrows furrow. He looks from my chest to my face, my face to my chest, and back again, his little gears a'turnin. When his brows release and settle back above his eyes (clearly signifying that he had registered my words) he says,

"Oh.... I see..."

Then walks off.

Ah, life.

(curtain drop)

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Ukrainian art

I never watch videos on youtube all the way through but I was captivated for every second of this. Set 8 minutes aside and have your mind blown.



"Kseniya Simonova is a Ukrainian artist who just won Ukraine's version of "America's Got Talent." She uses a giant light box, dramatic music, imagination and "sand painting" skills to interpret Germany's invasion and occupation of Ukraine during WWII."

Friday, March 12, 2010

"our breast and brightest"

Yeah uh I'm looking for'a language. You have uh... Czech? No? Ok. Italian? Yeah? Cool. See, Imma marine, and like, I need to really know who I'm dealing with, you know? So like, do you have Islamic? (Uh, that's a religion, not a language.) Pshh, ok then, do you have "MUSLIM"? (Muslims are the people who follow the Islamic faith. Muslims speak a wide variety of languages as it's one of the world's major religions and its followers live in every country, so why don't you just name a country and I'll tell you what's most commonly spoken there.) A country? Uhhhhhhhh.... (Here, take this list of our offered languages and see if we have one that suits your fancy.) Yeah! There it is, ARABIC. You know they speak that all over the middle east and India. (Actually Hindi is what's spoken in India.) Nuh uh. The arabs live in India, and they speak Arabic. (But Hindi is the official language of India.) YEAH BUT THEY SPEAK ARABIC. (Ok.) So uh... your tattoo is like freakin me out.

(curtain drop)

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Spring Voyages

(9th St- South Philly)

Today Dave and I left the house with the intention of walking to Rittenhouse Square to read in the sun all day. After munching mock-ham, mock-beef, tofu, and veggies at Kingdom, we meandered around the Reading Terminal Market (an indoor farmer's market with restaurants and booth-tiques) where we stumbled into a cook-book-only bookstore (what?!), where I bought the book you see to the right. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but after I finish learning Polish (in around 3 or so months) I plan to start learning Hindi. My interest in Hindi stems from a new-found love of Bollywood movies, my stomach's inclination toward Indian food (the only food that never makes me sick), and my "fascination"* with Indian culture.
I intend on using Hindi. (I am constantly asked by people why I'm learning languages I won't use. Uh... I go to Poland more than I go to almost any other European country. And...) After I finish the course, Dave and I plan to go to India to learn about the country through food. We'll take vegetarian cooking classes (where I'll use my new Hindi skillz to discuss saffron and dals) then travel around the country learning its history and customs through regional cuisine. We talk about this plan fairly often (I even listen to travel podcasts that focus on India just so I can dream in more detail)... so you can imagine how my my heart almost stopped when I opened this month's issue to VegNews magazine to an advertisement which read:

If you enjoy adventure, history, culture, and delicious vegan cuisine, this is the trip for you. Join VegNews publishers Joseph Connelly and Colleen Holland as they host the journey of a lifetime—expertly guided by VegVoyages' India afficionados, Zac Lovas and RK Singhji. An intimate group of VegNews readers will explore the fascinating state of Rajasthan along with India's capital, New Delhi, and the breathtaking wonder, Taj Mahal. Other highlights include:

• Stay at a Maharajah's palace
• Dine at the best veg eateries in India
• Meander through colorful bazaars
• Learn Indian history
• Sleep on a world-famous overnight train
• Enjoy daily yoga classes in stunning settings
• Take a rickshaw through bustling city streets
• Visit an animal sanctuary
• Hike a national park teeming with wildlife
• Have dinner with a local family
• Stay in a picturesque village
• Take a vegan cooking class
• And so much more!

**12 days/12 nights**

Dave and I practically skipped home while I brainstormed at a million miles a minute how we'd raise the money in time (the trip is in October and costs over $1,200 per person- that's exlcuding airfair.) Then as Dave made dinner (garlic knots and angel hair tossed with olive oil and fresh basil,) I tore through the house, grabbed my computer, and went to the webpage to get more info. I was then met by this tragic sight:


I was devastated for 3 solid minutes, which is how long it took for me to find the Veg Voyages webpage. Dave and I are opening a savings account ASAP so that we can go on one of these trips. (Read the day by day itineraries. This is the one I'd like to go on, but it's happening too soon. I'm hoping they have something similar next year.)

Here are a couple more pictures from today:

Vegetarian and "Non Vegetarian" (Reading Terminal Market)
Excellent grammar on Chestnut St



*On "fascination". Nothing makes my eyes roll harder than someone nonchalantly dropping the phrase, "I'm fascinated by _____"- because they're usually not. They just want to seem worldly or studious or fuckknowswhatelse. You'll also notice that the blank is usually filled with "Japanese culture"- which these "fascinated" people use to justify their culturally appropriated "traditional Japanese tattoos" [which are usually not inspired by a fascination with Japanese tattoo history or customs rather just a general fascination with looking cool, but by feigning a serious interest in Japan they lend a certain validity to their otherwise meaningless art], their Asian-girl fetish, or something else equally as superficial. The second someone waxes poetic about a Japan fascination I feel slightly nauseous. These are also commonly the sort of people who, if asked for a book recommendation, offer up "Catcher In The Rye" because it is one of the only books they've ever read [and only did so because they were forced to in school.] I'm of course not saying that all fascinations- with Japan or otherwise- are inherently moronic, but this particular species of Japanese fancinatists- and you know the type I mean- have bastardized having an interest in a culture that is not yours for the rest of us. /rant)

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Ella and the sheet cleaning

The people have spoken. Here's more Ella:




I've been listening to lot of Billy Club Sandwich lately. I always liked them, but a few years ago I saw them at cbgb's and fell in love. People can talk all day about what hardcore bands are "smart" and which are "ignorant" but I find that hardcore in general is pretty dumb, the main difference is that some bands/people are more pretentious than others. That said, I'll take something real but simple over something contrived with a facade of intelligence any day.



In other news, this blew my mind. I mean robberies are the norm here, but LEAVING YOUR CHILD AT THE SCENE OF THE CRIME? Come onnnnn.

South St. jewelry heist

(vegan) Gummy Bear Chandelier

"The Candelier chandelier from Jellio features 5,000 hand-strung acrylic gummi bears surrounding a 50 watt CFL bulb."