The Stack Manifesto

Image by Getty Images via Daylife

Just in case anyone is curious enough to read what the lunatic that flew his airplane into the IRS building in Austin, Texas had to say (and anybody willing to fly a plane into a building is just that, a lunatic), I'm copying his "Manifesto" below in its entirety. Haven't read it myself yet, but it looks a lot shorter than the Unabomber Manifesto, so I'll probably tackle it over lunch.

The "Stack Manifesto"

If you’re reading this, you’re no doubt asking yourself, “Why did this have to happen?” The simple truth is that it is complicated and has been coming for a long time. The writing process, started many months ago, was intended to be therapy in the face of the looming realization that there isn’t enough therapy in the world that can fix what is really broken. Needless to say, this rant could fill volumes with example after example if I would let it. I find the process of writing it frustrating, tedious, and probably pointless… especially given my gross inability to gracefully articulate my thoughts in light of the storm raging in my head. Exactly what is therapeutic about that I’m not sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

New Hampshire and Anal Sex

There's nothing like a little down-and-dirty sex talk to liven up a boring political hearing. Then again, I don't think I would count my money as being well spent if I called a sex hotline and got New Hampshire State Rep. Nancy Elliott reciting her version of Backdoor Lovin' to me.

This is the kind of stuff that really pulls the curtain back to reveal the true motives behind the anti-gay marriage movement. At a recent executive session to repeal same-sex marriage in New Hampshire, Republican Rep. Elliot launched into a rather vivid description of exactly how distasteful she finds the idea of anal sex. She keeps going until someone off camera asks her to stick to the bill, to which she responds that it has everything to do with the bill, because legalizing gay marriage is apparently leading to public schools teaching fifth graders how to have gay anal sex. Watch and learn, and be sure to take notes:





I don't know about you, but this is the most turned-on I've gotten from political debate since Ken Starr spent millions to find out exactly how far Clinton sank his cigar into Monica.

I'm not sure who that is sitting next to Miss Elliot, but she must have the most disciplined poker-face I have ever seen. I know I would have lost it at "wriggling around in excrement." I also probably would have interrupted and asked Nancy what her views on oral sex are, seeing as how as cunninlingus is probably more popular than anal sex among the lesbian population, which I am only assuming accounts for roughly half of all gay couples.

As funny as this kind of legislative gutter-minded shock-value argument against what is essentially a civil rights issue is, it goes a long way to illustrate some unavoidable truths about the majority of those opposing same-sex marriage:

1) Republicans think everything is about sex
2) Lesbians really don't get the equal attention they deserve
3) Nancy doesn't go for the Butt Sex

This is why I think it is completely fair and essential for all politicians campaigning against same-sex marriage if they've ever engaged in oral or anal sex with their spouses. Not just out of sheer vindictive retaliation, but because knowing is half the battle.

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The Hilarity of Road Rage: A Pseudo-Confession

An old man with a bad toupee got out of his SUV and chased after my car while I drove away laughing the other day. Does that make me a bad person?

Image by toddwshaffer via Flickr

I should probably elaborate.

Its a weekday afternoon on a stretch of route 57 that switches back and forth between forty and fifty MPH speed limits as weaves through clusters of residential and agricultural zones. I make it a habit of riding the speed limit on this road, with the cruise control set. I'll admit that a big reason for my strict adherence to the speed limit is the frequency that patrol cars hand out speeding tickets in this area. Self preservation is a great motivator. But in my defense, I've also reached a point in my life where I don't see the point in racing as fast as possible to get nowhere fast. I'm not trying to make myself out as Mr. Zen and rationality, I just can't work up any passion about treating a single-lane highway like a Nascar tryout track. It isn't like I have a pregnant woman a baby's arm hanging out in the back seat, I'm just driving home. What's the rush?

Anyway, I'm cruising at a gentle 50 MPH, and not surprisingly, I end up with an anxious SUV riding my ass because I'm not going fast enough for him. He hangs onto my bumper for a good few miles, and occasionally we get a enough inches between us that I glimpse the driver's angry little face glaring at me over his steering wheel, the curly blonde toupee crouching on top of his head as if it was equally pissed off at me.

Image via Wikipedia

In all fairness, the guy with the rug in the SUV actually waited for a legal passing zone to zip around me. However, tailgating is still illegal, not to mention dangerous, so I felt justified in flipping him off as he passed me. Not the most mature action, I will admit. Also not mature was my reaction when, less then a mile later, I would up right behind the SUV at a red light.

This happens to me a lot. Some jackass will speed by me at twenty or so over the speed limit, and a few miles later we'll be sitting together at the same red light. This is why I rarely speed anymore, and why I've never gotten into any traffic-weaving hi-jinx. You can go as fast as you want, but the law of averages will almost always drag you back to the flow of traffic.

So, I found this funny enough that I honked and waved at the SUV guy. I didn't lean on the horn and shake my fist angrily, mind you; just a quick beep and a happy wave. Two angry little hands flew up as if to ask what the Hell I was waving at, so I rolled down the window and shouted out "Congratulations! You made it one car length ahead of me!" No angry voice or harsh screaming, just a friendly voice shouting loud enough so he could hear me if he wanted to. I was actually laughing when I said it.

What happens? The light turns green, he takes off like a bat out of hell, and I cruise right back into the speed limit. End of story. Until I end up right behind the same SUV at the next red light.