Are You F*%#king Kidding Me?

Now, I try to keep this blog PG at most, but I can only imagine that if Kylie ever asks me, "Daddy, can I have $1,000.00, a dime bag of weed, two bottles of Jack, the car and six guys from the football team over on the weekend you and Mom are out of town?" I would (at least mentally) respond with something similar to the above headline.

And she has no track record of insane requests upon which to heap this hypothetical.

But here comes the Bush administration.  Oh, it's not George.  Instead, it's Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson.  Same team, though.  You know 'em; they're the guys who brought you cries of "yellowcake" and "WMD" -- and now, they want 700-Billion Dollars, no questions asked, no strings, no accountability.  

I can't help but to think the above words.

Read Pete Cedenella's article in today's Huffington Post.  He suggests an eerily similar circumstance with the run-up to the Iraq "war" (it's never actually been declared a "war," so the Bush admin. can circumvent international law.)  It's the profiteers mantra:  Break it, then buy it, and then keep it sick, and watch the cash roll in."

It works with health care:  Destroy the health care system (or prevent a comprehensive and effective one from ever existing), let the drug companies write policy, and keep Americans ailing, so they keep coming back for more.

It worked in Iraq:  blow the place to kingdom come, send in Halliburton to do shoddy work that doesn't get done too quickly.  The Iraqi infrastructure has been milked so much it should wear a bell.

And get this: Iraq, huge an issue as it it, is only part of another issue: the energy issue.

And it works with energy: De-regulation sent energy bills through the ozone here in California, and it cost a governor his job.  De-regulation led to Dick Cheney  behind closed doors allowing energy companies to draft U.S. energy policy, and next thing you know, we're in Iraq fighting for oil, gas prices are nearly four times what they were when Dummya took office (remember $1.37/gal, anybody?)

Now they want to try it with the finance and banking industry.  They've already destroyed it through de-regulation, and now, they want your blank check -- for 700-billion dollars, with no curfew, no chaperone, all the beer they can drink, and (as Dick Cheney said after shooting his friend in the face) "no cops."  

Everyone, repeat after me.

I HATE EVERYTHING!

Okay, maybe I just can't enjoy anything.  Maybe I'm just an old curmudgeonly misanthrope.  But COME ON!  Welcome to the first of what I'm sure will be a fairly regular installment here on The Cox Section: "I HATE EVERYTHING!"  Another title could be "Rob Rants," but everything doesn't have to be f-ing alliterative to be good!  

So here's today's installment:

The new Barbie Movie:

What's Barbie's whole deal?  It's that she's versatile and independent, strong, and capable of doing or being whatever she wants.  Great role model for girls.  She can be a doctor, a lawyer, she has her own house, car, all that.

So how does Mattel decide to cast Barbie in her own movie debut?

Oh, she's a PRINCESS who has to be RESCUED by a handsome prince, who takes her to HIS kingdom (all the Disney-style animal side-kicks are there in all their half-hearted predictability; she even sings EXACTLY like every other Disney princess, it's sickening!) and she then has to COMPETE for the prince with ANOTHER WOMAN; another woman, mind you, who is EVIL!  (Never mind that the evil woman is a red-head named Arianna; I'll wait to find out that the religious right is behind this effluvium to be pissed off about that subtle dig against populist pundit Arianna Huffington.)  I mean, COME ON!  As I watched this trailer, I couldn't be any more sickened or uninspired.  Where's the Barbie message: "You can be anything you want, girls?  Strive for independence and self-discovery?"  The message this movie sends is simple:  If you're born a princess, or lucky enough to be swept away by a prince, and you're beautiful (I mean, that's a given, you have to be beautiful; the whole paradigm breaks down if you're not beautiful, kiddies -- did you not watch the Opening Ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics?) you have a chance to be surrounded by mechanistic, effeminate, animated animals and take on the liberal left and defeat it's evil scheme to (forgive us, Lord) empower women such that they do not define themselves according to how rich, handsome and woven into the aristocratic tapestry are their male rescuers!  Can this crap, Mattel.  "Oh, it's harmless," you say?  "It's just entertainment," you say?  "Little girls like princesses," you say?  I say it's sh*t.

And I hate it.

Numero Luno

Cincinnati Bengal wide reciever Chad Johnson has legally changed his name to "Ocho Cinco," to reflect the number on his jersey. But his jersey won't reflect the name change, at least not for now. Reebok says the jerseys have already been made with "C. Johnson" printed on the back, but that should Senor Cinco opt to purchase the stock of smocks (it'd cost him about $4 million). It may take a level of narcissistic knuckleheadedness even beyond the out-stretched reach of rival reciever (and egomaniac) Terrell "I Love Me Some Me!" Owens of the Dallas Cowboys to write that check. Ironically, Sports Illustrated has picked Cinco's Bengals to finish not ocho-cinco, but rather a sad cinco-and-ocho to capture last place in the AFC North. No word whether Reebok plans to compliment any future name change on the jersey with a change to the number to "1" to reflect the number of people to whom any of this nonsense matters. Go Joe Flacco!