SUMBITCH OF THE WEEK

We ALL object. Bitch.

Nancy Grace

August 5, 2008

   When you think of the word "sumbitch," it's usually a man that comes to mind.  We have tons of other, even more horrible names to call objectionable women, usually unfairly and in the heat of an argument over a fishing trip or a family reunion.  But in the case of this reprehensible, lying, deceptive, utterly disgusting bitch (see, even I'm doing it), we at The Rag are willing to make an exception.  Nancy Grace fully conforms to every criteria, and actually red-lines most of our meters when it comes to determining what it means to be a true sumbitch. 

   You've seen this shrill slut on CNN, even if it's just on the commercials, which they run incessantly to boost her flagging ratings (in between ads for Andy Cooper's "Boy oh boy, am I a sensitive guy" spots, and the "I'm Christiane Amanpour, and I have credibility because I have a European accent of some sort and haven't been blown to shit yet," smarm).  Not even Larry King gets as much time between segments as this harpy.  Hell, even Larry King has better journalistic credentials than Nancy the Shrew.

   But more to the point, while Grace goes to every length imaginable to portray herself as the voice of law and order, the voice of the victim, the voice that (she supposes) is inside all our heads when we hear a terrible story on the news, she is in fact herself one of the worst examples of how our justice system can and is perverted, subverted, and twisted by self-serving grandstanders.  To wit:

   While a prosecutor with the Fulton County, Georgia attorney general's office, Grace was cited numerous times for prosecutorial misconduct, once ending in a mistrial for a heroin trafficking case, and more fabulously in the overturning of a murder-arson conviction of a guy that should have swung, but for her outrageous (and patently illegal) interventions in the case in order to make headlines.

   Nancy Grace uses terms like "character," and "judgment,"  and "personal responsibility" during her ear-splitting broadcasts.  How well does all that dovetail with her own history of displaying a complete lack of character, a total lack of judgment, and zero personal responsibility?

   Want some examples?

   The most absolutely heinous examples are probably the most famous, but here they are for the news impaired:

   The Duke Lacrosse Scandal:  Grace beat on those punks like they owed her money.  Night after night, she hammered and yammered away in defense of Mike Nifong and the prosecution's non-existent case of gang rape.  The punks got exonerated.  Nifong got disbarred.  Nancy got ratings.  Nancy never apologized for backing the wrong horse.  Or for slandering about thirty people in the process.

   The Elizabeth Smart Kidnapping:  After weeks of accusing the wrong man (Richard Ricci) for this teen's abduction, and even following his death, Grace never made any comment other than to say that he was to blame for the presumption of guilt because he was an ex-con. Come to find out it was somebody else altogether, not even remotely connected to Ricci.  Again, think this trollop apologized?  Not a chance. 

   The Melinda Duckett Suicide:  And we come to this sumbitch's crowning achievement to date, actually driving a grieving mother to suicide.  Back in 2006, a Florida toddler went missing and became a media sensation the likes of which we hadn't seen since Elian Gonzalez.  The parents were constantly grilled on 24-hour TV, with a lot of inconclusive results.  But not for Nancy Drew.  Ms. Graceless berated and all but accused the obviously overwrought mother (whose command of English was poor at best) of murder on national television with any number of leading, damning, loaded questions that no one on earth could answer and not come out looking guilty.  So the next day, Melinda Duckett shot herself through the head.  Nice job, you fucking bitch.  When asked about the incident, Grace's response was to the effect that "...guilt made her commit suicide."   

   Judgment?  You actively allowed your old ass to get pregnant at age 47, at which the chance of producing a Mongoloid idiot is about 90 times that of a woman 35 years old or less.  Character?  You drove a potentially innocent mother to suicide with your self-righteous bullshit and pulpit-busting sermonizing.  Personal responsibility?  Time and time again on your unwatchable show and in your shitty books, you prove that in your own mind you are coated with Teflon, and will never, ever wear any of the responsibility for your ridiculous actions.  But trust us, there's a special place in Hell for sumbitches like you.

"You voted for me, right?"

 Robert Mugabe

July 26, 2008

     We all know Africa has more than its share of problems.  We damn well should; we've written reams of reports about the problems there.  Held innumerable meetings.  Convened Christ-Only-Knows how many UN tribunals.  Debated endlessly.  Peopled panels.  Sent envoys.  Listened to Bono.  Seen Bono on panels.  Gave Bono medals.  And it all adds up to one thing:  Absolutely fucking nothing.  AIDS, ignorance, greed and apathy have made this continent look like the green room to Hell, and there's tons of blame to go around.  But let's stay focused.  A few individuals shoulder more than their share of the blame, which brings us to this sumbitch, Robert Mugabe, President of Zimbabwe (formerly Rhodesia; we'll get to that in a moment).  And he means to keep that title for life.

   Originally elected Prime Minister in Zimbabwe's first real election in 1980, Mugabe continued the time-honored southern African traditions of forming a secret police force/goon squad and turning them loose on any and all opposition.  In one purge alone, he wiped out around 20,000 people, mostly civilians.  Nice, huh?  But certainly nothing that dozens of other monomaniacal dictators haven't done, in fact kind of pathetic when compared to a Mao or a Stalin.  And since that first (mostly) deomcratic election, Mugabe has continued to win, no matter the vote count, and regardless of international pressure for reforms.  Without a doubt, Mugabe has almost as long a middle finger as Kim Jong Il when it comes to international criticism.

  But where King Robert has really distinguished himself is in the field of economics.  As outside pressure has mounted over the past few years, Zimbabwe's inflation rate has exploded to 2.2 million percent, and as much as 70 million percent for staples available primarily on the black market.  The current official rate of exchange is approximately 20 billion Zimbabwe dollars to one US dollar.  On the black market (the only market that really still matters in Zimbabwe), the rate is closer to 90 billion to one.  Please take a look at those numbers.  20 BILLION to ONE.  90 BILLION to ONE.  What the fuck?! 

   Not that there's any real food to buy any way.  Since Mugabe's land reforms (i.e., seizing land held by white colonials and handing it out as largesse to his cronies), the cupboard is damn near bare, and on a scale that Ol' Mother Hubbard could never imagine.  We're not going to quibble about the land reforms per se, because Zimbabwe was colonized primarily through the efforts of Cecil Rhodes (hence the original name, Rhodesia), he of Rhodes Scholar fame.  Rhodes founded the De Beers diamond mining company as a matter of profit, plunder, and power.  One of his many famous quotes:  "I prefer land to niggers."  There's a sensitive soul for you.  When you have a guy like Rhodes as one of your founding fathers, it's got to be tough not to be bitter towards whitey.  What is utterly unconsionable, however, is how many people have to suffer and die in despair and disease while Shitbag Bob stays at the helm. 

   The most recent "election" is still under contention, but there's damn little hope of the outcome being anything but what we expect.  Our, and the world's, and most importantly the people of Zimbabwe's only hope is that this bastard is 84 years old.  And that's pretty old for a sumbitch of this magnitude.

Looking Forward to Wife #4

Bob Barr

July 17, 2008

    This bastard is utterly mind-boggling.  Pretty much no matter where you stand on any political issue, you can always find something to hate about this guy.  So much so that we're going to give him a little more space this week than usual.  Former liberal Democrat.  Former Reagan Republican.  Current Libertarian candidate for president.  Full-time opportunist.  100% sumbitch.  Introducing:  Robert Laurence "Bob" Barr, Jr.

    After shedding his Viet Nam War protesting persona and signing on for an unremarkable stint at the CIA, Junior here carpet-bagged his ass down to Georgia and re-invented himself as a hard-core pistol-packin', gay-bashin', abortion-hatin' Reaganite.  After a few false starts, he finally got himself elected to the House of Representatives, riding the tide of Brother Newt Gingrich's Republican Revolution.  And once elected, boy did the shit hit the fan.

    Barr drafted draconian Federal legislation against the use of medical marijuana under any circumstances.  He wrote and championed the Defense of Marriage Act (and he should know; he's on his third marriage), which is tougher on gays than the Book of Leviticus.  Good Ol' Boy Bob also spearheaded the head-job impeachment hearings of Bill Clinton.  And not to miss a lock-step beat with the farthest Rightwinger out there, Barr rabidly supported the 2002 Iraq Resolution, treating the Patriot Act as Holy Scripture. 

But see, that was then and this is now.

    Because through a brilliant bit of gerrymandering, the Georgia Democratic party redistricted Big Bob's piece of the pie, and he got kicked right in the nuts and right out of office in 2002, to the abject glee of Democrats and Libertarians alike.  Which left him in a pickle.  Specifically, What the hell do I have to do to get back in the game?  Easy.  Say anything, do anything, support whatever position seems electable, and let 'er rip.  The result?  Hold onto your hats.  Meet the New and Improved 2008 Model Bob Barr.  Libertarian for President.  Or whatever he can get his hands on.

    Barr's current, new-fangled Libertarian platform includes the following:

• Now a vocal opponent of the Patriot Act
• Paid consultant for the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU)
• Now believes that medical marijuana use is really up to the individual states
• No longer on the Board of the National Rifle Association

    We could go on, but what the hell's the point?  This faux shitkicker turned champion of rights is the fucking poster child for everything that's wrong with this country's government today.  And the saddest part of it all is that he may be slightly relevent in the up-coming election.  You see, he is already pulling 6-8% of the Pissed-Off Guy votes in many states, and he is in the double-digits in others.  And so far, he is going to be on at least 49 states' ballots come November.  Don't get us wrong, he doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of even coming close to becoming president, but he is poised to be a spoiler for some, an irritant to others, and a living human joke for everybody.  So however big a dickhead he may be, keep your eye on this sumbitch.  Stay vigilant.

 Landscaper

Carlos Brito

July 7, 2008

    Here's a sumbitch for you, ladies and gentlemen.  Meet Senor Carlos Brito, Chief Executive Officer of the corporation InBev.  InBev is a European mega-brewer of beer, now responsible for bringing you inferior products like Stella Artois, Beck's, and formerly one of our personal favorites, Bass Ale, all vague shadows of their former tasty, high-end selves, but at the same premium price, naturally.  Just without all that troublesome quality.  And ingredients.

    Normally, none of this would bother us here at The Rag, because if this Hugh McColl wannabe buys up all the shitty breweries in Europe, what do we care?  If he drags their standards down to a Continental version of Milwaukee's Best, really, who gives a fuck?  Well, you better.  Because now this Brazilian ass-monkey has set his sights on one of the very few remaining bastions of American identity.  That's right, this shit-cake, who by rights should be wearing a gas-powered leaf blower in your front yard, is poising his company to take over Anheuser-Busch.  Budweiser, for Chrissakes! Michelob!  Auggie, where the fuck are you, you drunken bastard?   Avoid the ignominy of making these pages by fighting off this spawn of the Amazon.  They're the French of South America, for the love of God.  And it's a Belgian company!  Sure, the Belgians have a history of good beers, but fuckin' hell, this is BUD we're talking about, the King of Beers.  And InBev?  They've made Bass taste like coffee-piss, and Stella like sucking a skunk's ass!  Don't do this to us, you greedy fuck.

    But if this $46 billion deal goes down, trust us, it's Miller Time.

    So have a nice day, Carlos.  My unkempt lawn but for the grace of God go thou.

 Panther Piss

  So that's what happened to my grandma's panties

King Abdullah

July 1, 2008

    Recognize this sumbitch?  You should.  Every time you pump a  gallon of gas, trust us, he pumps you right back.  He is none other than King Abdullah Bin-Abd-al-Aziz Al Saud.  "Abby" for short.  King of Saudi Arabia. 

    Sitting atop one of the planet's richest reserves of oil, with more money in the bank than God himself, this smug bastard sits back and reaps obscene profits while we toil and slave away as gas prices make it impossible for us to even take a half-decent vacation.  While we fill his coffers, Ol' Spinach Chin over there bathes naked in pools filled with gold coins and Indian hookers.

    Just yesterday, King Ain't-Fuck'n-Ibn-Ayrab made the following statement:  "Consumer countries have to adapt to the prices and the mechanisms of the market." 

    Allow us to paraphrase:  "When you get fucked, take it and like it."

   Circle Jerk in the Sand

     Even though you have glutted fat from America's gas dollars, even though you have been allowed to stockpile some of the finest American-made air superiority fighters in the world, even though you got all that shit at Dollar Store prices, you still have the 84-year-old balls to bend us over like a stripper at a frat house.

    So this week, Hassan bin Sober, our imaginary hats are off to you, you bloated douchebag despot.  Dinner's hangin', fucker.  Come over here and suck the sweet light crude right out of the end of it.  Sumbitch.

Neil Entwistle

June 25, 2008

    Heard of this sumbitch?  This total piece of human shit was convicted by a jury of his peers yesterday in Massachusetts of murdering his wife and nine-month old baby while they slept.  I say "jury of his peers," but the fact is, this motherfucker could only find "peers" at the City Dump among the blowflies, rats, and other lower forms of life dwelling there.  He may be able to find "peers" up the asshole of a dead horse that has been lying in the sun for a month.  But certainly not among other human beings.

    This fine specimen of British citizenship not only murdered his wife and infant, he did not even attend their funeral.  What did this leaky bag of cat jism do?  That's right, he fled back to Mother England to try and ride it out, hoping for extradition problems that luckily never arose.

    And what was this douchebag's alleged motive for this unforgivable crime:  He wasn't doing well financially, and he was dissatisfied with his sex life.  Say what?  Welcome to the world, motherfucker!  Nobody is doing well financially right now, and nobody ever gets as much pussy, or in the right position, or from the right person, as we want!  It's called being a fucking guy in America, you shitheel!

    So this week, we salute you, Neil Entwistle.  Asshole, fucking scumbag, babykiller, and all 'round sumbitch.  Fuck you.  Rot in hell. 

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