Sunday, December 31, 2006

New Year's, New Jeers

That annual day has arrived where people allow themselves the pleasure of watching Dick Clark bike toward death and the disappointment of watching so many people gather in New York City without a natural disaster neutralizing them. Many publications that attempt snark claim that it is a time for resolutions, but they do not need them because they are perfect. The Gource has given this the thought it deserves (almost none) and realized that there is definitely no perfection to be found outside this blog, so it well-behooves us all to make resolutions. Here, then, is an enumerated list of The Gource's resolutions:
  1. Grouse More, More
  2. More Personal Attacks - Many peopls have been getting by this year with a Gource Warning. No longer. The Gource is instituting a "no-tolerance" policy toward any and all untoward behavior. Watch your ass, Ray Billingsley.
  3. None.
It is not unreasonable to stop here. In fact, it is clearly wise. You, reader, can look forward to much more of the same Gource you've come to expect, appreciate, and trust in this past Galendar Year.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Grimerry Gourcemas


That’s right readers, it’s that special day – the anniversary of the birth of the son of this universe’s most wonderful and vengeful (and only) God. While I’m sure most everyone has opened their presents and enjoyed their disappointment by now, we here at the Gource would like to wish you a happy holiday (Christmas – not that other, harder-to-spell one). And of course we’d be first-class nosebleeds not to offer you, the loyal readers, some kind of gift. However, this being the Internet and our devotees being so numerous we haven’t got anything physical/returnable for you. Instead, allow me to present what great new things you readers of the Gource have to look forward to.


More excerpts from my autobiography, a work that is certain to be one of the upcoming year’s most popular sellers/life-changers. Bear in mind that what is posted here does not reflect the numerous changes that are sure to be made during the publishing process, wherein the printmonkeys will no doubt remedy my “typos” and “grammatical errors,” rendering a work that doesn’t truly reflect my ability to convey Incredible Thought.


With headphone ownership on the rise coupled with the fact that both Guffin and myself have magnificent speaking voices, we have decided to join the audiocasting masses. Note – this is not a “podcast,” a term I take issue with for numerous reasons, the likes of which you can read about in…


That’s right, in addition to knowing how to solve the majority of the world’s problems I’m also well-read enough in the technological realm to solve the sort of problems the computer-using elderly need to dial India to fix. However, this segment will not just be me explaining how to get your computer into and out of Safe Mode (Windows users – hold F8 as your machine boots up, pretentious OSX’ers – hold Shift after powering on), instead it will be a place where I will make known my opinions on the issues and developments in the world of technology. Think Slashdot, but without all the coke-bottle-spectacled, Linux-running swine making Simpsons references in the comments section.

Are you ready for the New Year, soldiers of Reason?

Thursday, December 21, 2006

My Life - Don't You Need to Read It?

Dear readers I apologize. As regular visitors have most likely already noticed, there has been somewhat of a drought in the Gource’s activity this past week. This can be attributed to a number of reasons, none of which are an increase in the rational thought of the world. The Army of Reason’s fight continues. While I can’t speak for other contributors, my higher priorities were nothing if not noble: Christmas shopping, angry letters to store owners, reading books about science, etc. However, there is one important commitment that has been eating up a lot of my time: the publication of my autobiography. That’s right loyal masses; soon my life can be words for your eyes to devour so that your brain will bestow upon you the kind of euphoria many a junkie has died trying to amplify.
My book will not kill you.
My book will serve as a useful guide to living the kind of life that rational thought and a love for God dictates – in fact, so much is evident in the title alone:



While it might be some time before the book is ready for publication and distribution I will do what I can to slake what I imagine is an incredible and universal thirst the world has to read what I’ve lived by occasionally sharing snippets from the work. The first can be found immediately beneath this sentence.

Chapter 1 – Wherein I Arrive and Have a Childhood

I was born on a Sunday – the best day to be birthed, if you ask me. It was early in the morning when the Lord saw fit to admit me to this world. I have heard from those present on that day that I was born with my eyes open, ready to look upon this realm and to solve its problems. Many doctors have assured me that this is impossible due to numerous medical facts, but I know that doctors are, for the most part, not to be trusted. My father told me that soon after my arrival he glanced out the window, overcome with joy and wonder. To hear him tell it the sky was ablaze that morning, it being the glorious period when the sun is just cresting the horizon, throwing shadows and sparks while the moon is still visible above it. Some people call this time of morning lunar dawnset, others call it rush hour. There’s one thing everyone agrees on though: that moment on that morning was one in which the world took a very serious step in the right direction.
My childhood was a brief one, as childhood is, by and large, a useless period in a human’s life. Children are capable of very little beyond simple arithmetic and fouling up the pronunciation of numerous basic English sounds, and so I did not feel compelled to devote much of my lifespan to being an incapable waste of resources. Sure, I spent my time in elementary school catering to the foolish whims of the passionless middle-aged women who filled the role of primary caretaker of the students in the Gohnson County school district between the hours of 9 a.m. and 3 p.m., but all the while I was fixated on the future. By age six I had formed a blueprint for my life – one without mistakes – and I can honestly say that so far I have proven myself right about everything time and time again. Throughout the course of this work my plan (henceforth referred to as The Plan) will be made more apparent, and as a result readers of this book will be able to form their own The Plans. Every plan needs a key objective, and I recommend you come up with yours as soon as possible. That’s how I started mine. The Plan’s key objective? Vanquish all foes.
I vanquished my first foe at the age of ten, in the bloodiest conflict Goover Elementary had ever seen. You see, in fourth grade a new student joined the ranks of my “peers” at Gherbert Goover Elementary, one of America’s Perfect Public Schools. But this new student was not perfect – in fact he was severely flawed. His name was William Donaldson, and he fancied himself precocious. There are few things I loathed more as a child than other children who considered themselves above the level of their classmates. Frequently these children were the result of parents with expensive but useless degrees, usually in fields like law or medicine. Let me say, for the record, that my parents’ degrees are of a much more respectable nature: my father has a Master’s in hard work, and my mother a PhD in integrity. “Those aren’t real degrees,” the deans of a number of institutions might argue. Here’s the thing: those deans all have degrees in shit-dickery.
But back to William Donaldson. The day he came into my life was one of the most glorious of my childhood. Why? Because, it was the day that I first received an enemy. At first I thought that, perhaps, Will and I might be friends. He excelled at reading, and was an impeccable speller. He held a similar amount of disdain for his classmates as I did, but for different reasons. But he didn’t know science, and he didn’t go to church. The first trait was evident every day immediately after recess, when our teacher would have us read and do exercises from The World is Mostly Explainable, our science textbook that left room for the possibility that a number of things about the planet were the result of some serious omnipotence. Will was always fouling up his science assignments – he didn’t know his sedimentary from his igneous, if you know what I mean. My knowledge about his religious handicap was obtained even more directly: I invited him to attend church with me. This was, of course, before I knew better than to give people the benefit of the doubt. I’d decided that, despite his inability with the most important subject that is taught in public school, Will might excel in the most important one that isn’t. It was one of the few times I’ve had an incorrect notion.
One Friday during lunch I approached Will, and did my best to behave personably. I explained that I’d deemed him a suitable friend candidate, and wanted to know if he would be interested in attending the services at the church my family was part of that coming Sunday. His answer nearly made me sick: he didn’t go to church. I was floored – never had I run across such malevolence, and in my own cafeteria. I calmed myself though, I proceeded cautiously and asked him to explain, and he obliged. He described how he had never attended church before because his parents weren’t particularly religious, and then he spoke the words that I’m sure he would come to look back on as being his own death knell: “I don’t believe in God.” That was it – I had to act.
My first order of business was to maintain my composure, as I wanted to keep the upper hand in the situation. Calmly I finished my Coke (I always brought my own lunch, and on Friday’s my mother included with it a bottle of the world’s best soda. A glass bottle). I continued talking to Will as if nothing were amiss, and we slogged through the mundane topics of pee-wee soccer, action figures, and how rotten it was to have to go to bed before 10 p.m. After an interminable amount of time lunch was over, and we were released outdoors to enjoy recess. I knew that I would have my best opportunity to destroy this abomination then, behind the playground and beyond the watchful gaze of Mrs. Krumleigh, but in full view of the Lord. I convinced Will to follow me to that secluded area of the grounds using a clever ruse that works on any male child of a low intellect: I told him there was a dead animal to be seen. He was a lamb to the slaughter.
When we reached the location of the corpse I’d promised Will became suspisicous. Fortunately he didn’t remain so for long. As he began to form a question (he got as far as “Hey, where’s th-“) I removed from my pocket the empty glass Coke bottle I’d saved from lunch and brought the bottom of it down on the bridge of his nose so hard I felt the continent move.
“Listen,” I said to him, “There’s something you should know.” He responded by crumpling to his knees and letting out a pitiful moan followed by a couple gasps as his nose had now become quite useless as far as breathing was concerned. “The Bible got a lot of things right,” I continued, speaking slowly and clearly to make sure that he could hear me through his pain. “But I am not one to live and let live.” He stared up at me, eyes widening. I told him to calm down, that I couldn’t take his life, as I wanted to get some kickball in before the end of recess. “But know this,” I said, kneeling down to stare him down, eye to eye. “When the final trumpet blows it’s going to be the people like me – the Guiles Gonoughans of the world – who come out on top, in life and in the afterlife. Isn’t it time you accepted the Lord?” For a fleeting second Will’s facial expression flickered, from misery to confusion. He didn’t get it. I swung my foot with mechanic accuracy, my toe connecting squarely with his forehead, and he was out.
The next day I was brought into the principal’s office and questioned about the splendidly broken nose that Will had been sporting since our conversation on the schoolyard. Apparently after regaining consciousness he simply wandered home, and nobody at the school knew anything about it until the following day. I explained to principal Joylend that Will and I were close friends, and that he’d discussed with me his godlessly abusive parents. The principal, due to misguided beliefs about the physical capabilities of a fourth grader, was inclined to believe that I could not possibly have been the one to deal such damage to dear Will, and by 5 p.m. that evening social services had placed Will into foster care as a result of a concerned phone call from himself and the district’s superintendent. And who should the patriarch of Will’s foster family be but none other than Reverend Nick Matherton, the man whose sermons I enjoyed every Sunday morning.

Hopefully you had the good sense to enjoy that. I plan on continuing doing regular grouses in the coming weeks, though there might be a marked decrease in their frequency given the season and the times. I can’t say when the next autobiography update will come – I know you will all be clamoring for it, but I’d really rather just get the publishing process underway so that you will have the pleasure of being able to read it in its entirety. Until next time, Gource fans.

Muslim Congressmen-Elect - Why Can't They Keep Their Heads Down (Facing West)?

In a recent hellection, the state of Minnesota, one known for bad decisions (not to mention accents) stumblefucked a Muslim into our American House of White Representatives. This is not necessarily a bad idea, as his hellection may prove to Islamicysts around the world that the American system is the best and probably a good idea for their lives, too. The way that this Congressman screwed up is by requesting that he be allowed to be sworn in on the Kqworan, the "holy" book of Islam.
Let me be the first to ask: is this guy kidding me? We do not live in Saudi Arabia or something. We live in the United States of America, a nation where people swear on The Bible and almost always worship Jesus Christ:

As soon as we allow people to choose to swear in on the book of their choice, we open the floodgates to eliminate "Under God" from the Pledge of Allegiance, and then we will be removing crucifices from courtrooms and classrooms, and then we will no longer require us to sign pledges asserting that we are not witches. I would rather be crushed by stones than see a day like this come.
Luckily, there is one brave man who is unafraid to confront the issue. Rather than link you anywhere else, I will do The Gource an honor by printing his words. Here is a letter written by Virginia's 5th District Rep. Virgil Goode to CNN, printed on CNN.com (I bolded the best parts for you):

"When I raise my hand to take the oath on Swearing In Day, I will have the Bible in my other hand. I do not subscribe to using the Quran in any way.

"The Muslim representative from Minnesota was elected by the voters of that district and if American citizens don't wake up and adopt the Virgil Goode position on immigration there will likely be many more Muslims elected to office and demanding the use of the Quran.

"We need to stop illegal immigration totally and reduce legal immigration and end the diversity visas policy pushed hard by President Clinton and allowing many persons from the Middle East to come to this country.

"I fear that in the next century we will have many more Muslims in the United States if we do not adopt the strict immigration policies that I believe are necessary to preserve the values and beliefs traditional to the United States of America and to prevent our resources from being swamped..."

Virgil Goode, you officially win the Gource Grouser of the Year Award. This is awarded semi-regularly to the person or persons who have recently made the most sense in missives sent to CNN. In true TIME Magazine fashion, The Gource encourages you to work hard to be the next winner.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Viral Marketing - Why Can't You Just Tell Me What to Buy?

I have essentially had it with today’s modern advertising techniques. Recently the idea for people who want to market products is to reveal as little information about what is being sold as possible. This is a concept that doesn’t make any sense, and is not very effective, at least not on people who put at least a scintilla of thought into how they spend their hard-earned money. This past summer Honda wanted to sell me a car by informing that it was, in fact, “go.” This ad campaign had no effect on me for three reasons – I don’t need a car, I sure as hell don’t need a Japanese car, and I sure as all God don’t need to wade through cryptic messages in order to achieve a clear idea of what it is companies want me to want.
Yesterday I passed by a business that had advertisements informing passers-by that they would soon be opening. However, notable information was lacking from their sign, including what it is the store will sell, and why anyone should give a damn. What was even more confusing is that the store’s name is something like “History” and beneath that was written, “coming soon.” I don’t know if this is somebody’s idea of a silly joke, but I’m fairly confident in the fact that history has been around for quite some time - at least since European people started writing things down. This “History” store has already lost a customer before they even had the opportunity to gain one, I can tell you that much.
What’s even more frustrating is when this kind of bullshit advertising shows up on my favorite place: the Internet. Honestly, if Sprite wanted me to drink their lousy product they should try making it taste less terrible as opposed burning my retinas. Honestly, things like this almost make me miss the good old days of pop-up advertising, before those socialist geeks with degrees in computer science decided to start coding solutions to what so many viewed as a “problem.” At least pop-up advertising is straightforward. Please don’t think I’m arguing against subtlety or nuance in the realm of advertising (or any realm for that matter), but it is just plain retarded (that’s right, I used that word) to try to market a product without actually marketing a product.

The Death Penalty - How Do We Solve The Problems With It? (A Gource Short Solution)

If you have been to CNN.com recently, hoping that Tom Waits will stop by and give you an autograph (good luck, idiot), you may have seen a news story about a man in Florida whose execution took thirty-four minutes an required two injections. This is of course another example of shoddy reporting, one that The Gource hopes to rectify here:
The executee, a Mr. Something Diaz, was serving time in hell for a crime committed in 1979. If you ask The Gource, his execution did take too long: 27 years too long. If we lived in a Utopian society, this Diaz monster would have been killed before he killed a different guy. A simple problem, a simple solution.

Prostitutes in England - Is There Any Way to Blah Blah Blah Blah?

People who pay as close attention to the goings-on in our motherland will know that there have been a series of prostitute murders in Suffolk, which is apparently a place there, too. The past month-and-a-half has seen about four or five of these blah blah blah blah
Look: why in the world are we even worrying about these issues? There is a solid, rational reason that serial killers tend to target prostitutes (it is the same reason I satisfy my bloodlust by weekly hunting the bird of the season: there are plenty of them, and they don't really matter. There will always be women who insist on breaking the law just to get in on the world's second-oldest profession (the first is punditry), in the same way that there will always be pheasants or geese or whatever. As The Gource sees it, these killers do us all a favor by eliminating some of the excess: they submit to their urges without bothering the law-abiding public, and they create a greater scarcity in the sex market, which protects the livelihoods of these "women." That way, everyone wins.
Here is what I cannot abide, though: imitation. A recent Gallup poll showed that 86% of the people aware of this serial killing "problem" immediately thought of Jack the Ripper, another civic-minded individual who cut down the prostitute population. I know I did, and I'm smarter than any of the people dumb enough to take a poll. When one makes the life decision to start killing people, one should shoot for originality: these are the murders that serial killers will ultimately be known for.
If this new Ripper wants to make a name for himself while still performing a public service, he could try killing drug users--these are more criminals whose lives aren't worth as much as yours or mine.

The Salvation Army - Why the Ruckus?

It happened again yesterday. I was walking briskly to one of the area’s many pharmacies in order to purchase something that might take my mind off the aggravation that comes from having to listen to an inordinate number of dumb people complain to me about how they feel about the work the Army of Reason and myself are doing. I was planning on buying a Coke and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol – the former for drinking, the latter for throwing into the eyes of the next person who decides they need to tell me their opinion on anything. Anyway, as I neared the busy square in which the pharmacy is nestled my ears met with a familiar sound: the incessant ringing of a bell, the clatter of which everyone in the immediate area was trying to ignore. The Salvation Fucking Army.
I know, I know, it’s to be expected this time of year. Everyone and their adopted brother (who they’re secretly ashamed of) is in the spirit of giving during this the time God makes his Creation feel most guilty about its prosperity. I’m not going to complain about charity per se, because I’m sure that my reasoned arguments would be wasted on the kind of dullards who throw their money away and see nothing in return for it. But I do take issue when a charitable organization sees fit to launch a pre-emptive aural strike on me.
As far as I can tell the Salvation Army’s concept of how a successful charity works can be summed up in a simple equation: Noise = Money. For anyone who has any kind of respect for the complex and terrifying realm of mathematics this expression is probably painful to look upon, as it is blindingly incorrect. Much like Greenpeace (an organization that believes it is ok to approach and engage me in conversation about issues I do not agree with them on), the Salvation Army has crossed the boundary of appropriate social behavior and has begun actively seeking out the attention of complete strangers. Like all reasonable people I do not enjoy loud, arrhythmic noises, especially those that emanate from a bell in the clutches of an underfed Santa impersonator whose mere existence is an unnecessary drain on society. This is why Target is the best store. Target doesn’t let the Salvation Army stand around in front of their establishments bugging the bejesus out of people who just want to buy things to help ease the pain of living in a world where the Gource isn’t the final authority on matters involving noise pollution.

Global Warming - Is it Ruining Your Life Too?

I don’t know about you, but this global warming business is real trouble, the likes of which we haven’t had to contend with since those long-haired goons started shutting down higher learning institutions in protest of one of America’s better wars. This is serious, folks. In case you’re unaware of the issue, global warming is an affliction our planet might currently be infected with, as it is displaying the textbook symptoms of sunny skies and balmy Decembers.
Most people blame global warming on pollution and red meat, and they’re at least half right. I’ve never considered myself an environmentalist as doing so would force me to forfeit my right to use showers, deodorants, and – most importantly – shoes. However, if pollution is to blame for global warming then I might have to rethink a lot of things, like my insistence on riding only in cars that were originally designed for military use but have been retrofitted for America’s suburban streets, and my habit of leaving every piece of electronic equipment I own on at all times (I do this just in case, you know?).
“But Guiles,” one might ask, “Why do you care so deeply about global warming?” Let me first enumerate reasons that are not important to me: polar ice caps, the rainforest, Alaska, costal cities named Los Angeles, birds, and the hot chocolate industry. What makes global warming such an important issue to me is the impact it has on nature’s fairest season: winter. As I have mentioned before, I am an avid winter enthusiast. The season is set to begin in a week and yet when I stick my hand out the window all I feel is the hateful radiation of this planet’s sun. Right now it’s fifty degrees outside, and this is in a city known for a winter whose brutality exceeds that of most police officers. This is unreasonable. Who will kill the homeless if not Old Man Winter? How can we keep the elderly population under control if they don’t incinerate themselves and their neighbors after forgetting about that old Korean War-era space heater? How will America’s wool farmers sell their products? We need winter, and by God I’m ready to fight for it.


Monday, December 11, 2006

Apologizing - Why Do Editors Do It?

There has been a recent rash of editors for little-respected rags apologizing for the content of these shmatas to the community at large. It is important now that The Gource state: This is a thing we will never do. There are a couple of important reasons for this.
1) Our editors read our content. In this case, I expect blogspot's spellcheck to give this article a once-over, and then I myself may re-read it to reaffirm the veracity of my own statements. There is no way anything can slip by--in other words, everything that should be edited, has.
2) We do not wait to see the public response to our material and then jump back if we have pushed too hard. We have 100% confidence in the integrity of our publication, and about 17% confidence in the integrity of the community at large (the figure is slightly higher when the test sample includes only readers of The Gource.
I state this here because there has been considerable fallout from a recent article in The Gource. The article in question referred to gays ("homosexuals") as "mincing effetes in ballet slippers" who wish they could "be women." One letter to us states:
Sirs:
In a recent article of The Grimary Gource, you stated [see above]...I personally am very offended. I am a longtime follower of The Gource and usually agree 100% with your politics and opinions. I have often wondered, though, why there aren't more [gay people] who write for your publication. Your article settled the issue for me. It is not that your political views in general are [homophobic], but rather that somehow, by a strange coincidence, the vast majority of people who hold your political views are [homophobic]. You do a great disservice to those of us who have no problem with [gay people] but happen to agree that ugly people should not be allowed on the T.
We were prepared for this. We have heard these criticisms before, and knowingly printed what we did, steadfast in our feelings. We refuse to back down, because we have principles and we know they are right. Can you say the same?

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Clay - Great American Hero, or Terrorist Threat?

First, fuck you. It is a real letter.

This is my first address to the Infantry of the Army of Reason, the Gource's massive and ever-growing support base of readers, those little right-thinking soldiers who make this all possible - each of whom, in his own small way, is pushing us closer to That Time. I'm sure many of you subscribe to the country's diversionary altar of entertainment, the sporting pastimes, and so may have seen espn.com's recent outrageous cultural claim.
I'm not here to argue about the merits of their assertion. There are other, less respectable organizations for that. Frankly, I do not care to know who created 'rap' and am not sorry to see two of the worst cultural influences of the last forty years lumped together. Rather, the article made me reflect at the troubling way that the perception of Cassius Clay, alias Muhammad Ali, has changed over those years. It seems a shame that a man who refused to go to war for his country is now acclaimed as a national hero, and a brash, disrespectful man who constantly proclaimed himself the greatest of all time and called his opponents gorillas is now held to have created a major musical movement.

Clay could not prevent these damning pictures from getting out.

As an added offense, ESPN has enlisted another now-respected agitator to narrate (or as these people say, M.C.) the proceedings, namely Carlton Ridenhour, alias Chuck D. Like Clay, Ridenhour was imprisoned after refusing his patriotic duty to go to war for his country. (Ridenhour rejected a tour in the Gulf War in 1990, scandalously commenting in the press, "I'm a black man, and I can never be a veteran" before being deservedly locked up. Know your facts.) They've also recruited noted public enemies Al Sharpton and Sidney Poiter, aiming to make this program as offensive as possible.

Unfortunately, only one of these men was assassinated.

Of course the most troubling aspect of Clay's life is his religion, one has has been constantly at odds with our own. Are we not, in fact, at war with Islam all over the world? While Clay has always claimed to advocate pacifism, I hold with this upstanding journalist's good work on the subject and ask Clay, in Beck's words, to prove to me and all of us good Christian Reason-Soldiers that he is not a terrorist. We have a thing called burden of proof in this country, Mr. Clay, and also a right to deport or imprison possible enemies of freedom like yourself. We are not fooled by your put-on, pretended illness, which is surely merely a front to make you seem harmless. Clay is not the first terrorist to hide behind a physical disability. It is nearly time for the Army of Reason to mobilize against people like the venerated Clay. Will you be ready?Clay presiding over a jihadist religious ceremony. The connection between the Muslims and the Nazis has not yet been satisfactorily explored.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Racist Celebrities - Why are They News?

As you might imagine, a person as efficient as myself can often wind up with a fair amount of free time. I realize that such a luxury is rare for many, and will be quick to reassure you that I do not waste these unfilled hours with trivial pursuits like table tennis or miniature golf (would to God that I could though, there are no miniature links nearby).
However, on occasion I do find myself hemorrhaging my idle time clicking passively through the regions of the internet that claim to give me the “real” news stories about “things” I “care about.” How wrong these sites are.
Lately (as in last month) all anybody wanted to talk about was the racist tirade spouted off by once-kind-of-famous tall person/actor Michael Richards. Before that it was “oh what’s to be done about Mel Gibson the drunken anti-Semite?” Now the world’s all up in arms because America’s favorite talking manatee made a remark about how news of America’s favorite drunken gnome’s appearance on this country’s dumbest TV show was reaching far and wide to the vast reaches of the Orient. So what, America?
Here’s the thing about racism: it’s been a staple of Hollywood for about as long as we kicked the red-man out of Los Angeles. The Indians had founded the city, which they called Shakemtown, as a holy land because something bad always wound up happening there. White settlers eventually moved in, killed the Indians, set up boulevards, and renamed the place. Did anybody go crazy and write to YouTube when this happened? No. So why all the fuss now? Sure, it isn’t popular to hold racist attitudes, but why are actors’ opinions on anything even relevant? I thought it was common knowledge that 93% of all actors are dumber than the average Australian, and therefore not worth listening to unless someone else wrote the words they are speaking, and the whole affair is taking place in front of the kind of camera that requires 3 years to learn how to operate.
Maybe it’s time America stopped paying so much attention to what actors – especially unattractive actors – have to say about various societal and political issues facing the world in this High-Definition age. Maybe it’s time America started paying a little more attention to the Grimary Gource.

New Contributors - Do You Have What It Takes To Be One?

Close readers of The Gource will observe that two entries out of the past 32 have been written by persons other than this reporter or Guiles Gonoughan. Following these events, The Gource's inbox has been flooded with questions such as "Who are these new contributors?" "Who taught you people punctuation?" and most importantly, "Can I contribute to the Gource?" The answers are simple, and are enumerated as follows:
1) They are Galley Gorkin, Gephie Goplan, and Gade Gickels Addendum: Gunðer Gastergack
2) Ms. Gonca, 3-4 grade
3) Almost definitely not. Our contributors (see #1) were handpicked from the ranks of the finest publications to be found. More often than not, these writers far outshone their publications (think Kurt Vonnegut writes for TV Guide), which made them that much easier to pick. After Guiles and I have picked a list of five writers each, we cut our papers into slivers (one name per sliver), and then pick three from a hat.
So, it is unlikely that you can make it through our meticulous process of choosing writers. If you disagree, however, you may email us and try your luck against the hat.

Trees - Plants or Animals?

Plants.
Obviously plants.
But trees share some pretty undeniably similar characteristics with animals that are worth taking a look at, unless you're a biology major, in which case, you might get offended (if you're not already). In fact, some trees are so animal-like that professionals in the field call them "tranimals." As you can imagine, if the term were ever widely publicized, "tranimals" would spawn a host of problems with vegetarians and Christmas-killing Jews who keep Kosher, so the coinage has been a well-guarded secret within small circles to keep things simple for the small-minded masses.
But here I am letting you in on the secret. Good thing this blog protects my identity.
Perhaps the best example of a "tranimal" is the tree from Charles Schultz's "Peanuts." Let's observe:

To the untrained eye, this looks like a perfectly normal tree, which is generally referred to as a "plant." However, trained eyes may notice a grin within the leaves. This grin has been observed on many animal species, such as:

Is it an accident that both the aforementioned tree and the aforementioned animal (clearly a cat) share the same grin? I don't think so. I don't think so AT ALL.
Damn tranimals. Damn conspiracy theories.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Science and Religion - Isn't it Time they Reconciled?

Now, this should come as no surprise to loyal readers, but I myself am an extremely reasonable man. I grew up in a house where the laws of God and the laws of physics were both followed to the letter. As a result of this sensible upbringing I have matured into the kind of person petty men resent, courageous men respect, and all virtuous women love. Obviously folks like myself are harder to come by than you might expect, especially in portions of the country that put too much or too little emphasis on the two most powerful forces in the universe: God and science.
The fact that God (the Christian one, of course) is magnificently powerful shouldn’t be news to anyone whose postmortem plans involve an extremely nice Kingdom in which to spend eternity. However there are many people – especially on the coasts of this country – who were not brought up with sufficient doses of vitamin G during their formative years. These are people who can frequently be found shouting at government buildings, wearing inappropriate clothes and failing to keep their front yards in good order. However, most were educated in schools that did a decent job of teaching science.
There is another end to this spectrum of unreasonable people – those with plenty of love for the Lord in the many chambers and foyers of their hearts, but without proper knowledge of how the universe fits together on a sub-meta-physical level. These people can often be found in southern states, far-western landlocked states, and states whose names rhyme with “Oh my, no.” It’s fairly obvious that a healthy fear of the invisibly omniscient is extremely important in the making of a Good Person, more important than being able to explain a catalytic converter, but the ability to apply the scientific method to everything that isn’t the Creator of the Universe is still indispensable. This brings me to the conclusion you probably predicted I’d come to had you read the opening question title of this article: Science and Religion (Christianity) need to be a major part of a person’s brain in order for that person to be as terrific as myself. In order to form a more perfect union I suggest that these two great tastes become mandatory in every form of education available to our nation’s youth, from public schools to billboards on lonely interstates. Private schools won’t be required to teach balanced educations, however, as most of their students wind up being the kind of people who are impossible to deal with people no matter what measures are taken. So come on America, improve your mind, improve your soul, download this .pdf, print tons of copies and hang them up everywhere. If people see this flyer hanging in a property that is yours, they will recognize you as one of the rational, religious elite.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Jews - What is Wrong With Them Already?

Recently, there has been an increase in the amount of Jewish-related activity, as there always is around the Holidays. In the past couple of years, they have been fighting to eliminate such pleasantries as, "Merry Christmas," and "God Bless Us - Every One," and "Hello." As evidenced by our public school system as it stands, their efforts have been largely successful, which means that we are losing the War On Religious Christians with Dogs Or Families.
As The Gource predicted a year ago, if we give in to the Jews' demands, they will be emboldened to try to eliminate further traces of our once proud culture. If the Jews get their way, a century from now all that will remain of American culture will be some VHS copies of Rob Reiner movies. This cannot happen.
Anyway, as usual, The Gource was correct. This year, the Jews are teaming up with the atheist Jews and the black Jews and trying to get eggnog banned in all public places. Eggnog, long a staple of Christian cuisine and Holiday good spirit, is also like arsenic to the Jews, and like old lace to the atheists. It is also, more importantly, completely delicious.
Their activity does not end here. They are also mandating that all public schools replace any interior lighting with menorahs, and serve latkes for lunch once a week. All courtrooms must fly the Israeli flag, and the rapper Ice-T must go only by his pseudonym "Iceberg."
We cannot allow them to do this. Jews already have their own private spaces (they're called "synagogues," people) - what gives them the right to infringe on our public places?
There is only one way to stop them. If we can separate neighborhoods in New York City (I like to call it “Jew York City” or “Hymietown”), Los Angeles, and Miami, and make these neighborhoods Jew-only, prohibiting Jews from leaving them, we retain public spaces for the American Christian tradition, something everyone can agree is good. Who’ll drink to that?

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

CNN.com - Can They Sink Any Lower?

If you are at all like me (and God save you if you're not), you have recently been to CNN.com. You, like me, probably spend a solid twenty hours a week on the website, posting comments on the articles pointing out gaps in journalistic prowess to the site's editors. Really, the website is to online news what Meg White is to online nudity.
Anyway, you have probably noticed that recently CNN.com has started summarizing its articles, like so:
This "story highlights" portion is clearly designed to allow readers of the website to move on to more important articles. They do not have to feel guilty (like they do for just reading the headlines), but they also don't have to clean the drool off their keyboards when they fall asleep after reading one paragraph of this Melville-esque prose.
In the interest of full disclosure, it should be noted that this commentator writes for The Grimary Gource. I think, though, that you will not disagree when I state that The Gource gives you news in a way you can read.
Anyway, this new practice of CNN's is abominable. No, I know what you're thinking; I am not some Highlander-watching stopgap who thinks that news worth reading must be understood with complete context, and thus this sort of summarizing only serves to obscure truth or decrease American knowledge of important issues or whatever stupid business these people whine about when they're not mixing red and white wine and painting their faces with the results.
The Gource thinks that this practice is unnerving because it is certain to bring more readers to CNN.com, just as every student at Gufts flocks to the teacher who doesn't require homework to be done in a timely manner or a legible font. This sort of dissemination of false information to the masses can only mean bad news for those of us in the upper echelon of masculinity and brains. Ultimately, of course, it is a futile gesture, as those who refuse to read CNN.com will always be more powerful than those who read its story highlights, but it certainly doesn't make our jobs any easier.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Christmas Decorations - Don't They Make You Sick Too?

Seriously, what did the lord Jesus Christ do to deserve this kind of tacky-ass treatment? Now before you stop reading and assume that I’m just going to attack the commercialization of Christmas for the next three paragraphs, don’t. I’m not some sort of creepy, middle-aged pastor at a tiny church in America’s beloved heartland – I haven’t got the wardrobe for it – and I don’t mind that the Real God’s birthday has been turned into a furious consumer spectacle. What bothers me is the way that people who lack a real sense of duty to God have decided is an appropriate way to doll up their houses for his birthday.
Listen: just because a snowman can be created using inflatable material does not mean it’s a good idea to buy 4 of them and to station them like corpulent sentries all around your domicile. It may seem remarkable that a nativity scene can be created entirely out of PVC and painted with lifelike precision by machines, but this does not give you license to inflict it upon my eyes every time I pass by your front yard. I didn’t ask for this. God didn’t ask for this. Nobody asked for this. But there it is.
Let me impart some religious education on you, dear readers. Christmas has, despite what some bivouacs might tell you, 3 distinct meanings. They are as follows:

  • Family, togetherness, the colors red and green, office parties that everyone laments afterwards. This is the meaning on which God puts the most emphasis.
  • Buy everything, and destroy any who impede you in your quest. This is the meaning on which America puts the most emphasis.
  • Suicide is a viable option for many, and there’s no better time than now, especially if you put up ugly decorations or knock on my door anytime in December. This is the meaning on which I put the most emphasis.

Keep them in mind, would you? It’s getting colder, and beastly New England is finally recalling that it’s the last month of the year, and that it really ought to be colder at this point than it is. We’re thick with the spirit of things. Hold on though, it’ll be over soon enough.