E R N I E ' S   H O U S E   O F   W H O O P A S S

Ah, Rene. You Silly Bastard.

As I'm sure you're all aware by now, there was a UMASS student who published an article this week which pretty much ripped Pat Tillman as a Rambo-wannabe who got what he had coming to him.

I think what makes Tillman's story so remarkable comes not in what he gave up as a soldier -- he's given no more or no less than the other 100+ killed in Afghanistan -- but comes from what he gave up to become a soldier. That my friends, is what's making him stand out. We live in a world where the Kobe Bryants, and the Mike Tysons, and the Ray Lewis', and the Jayson Williams' dominate our nightly news. Then to suddenly flip the channel and see a professional athlete like Tillman giving everything up for his country -- we know he sure as hell didn't so it for money or fame as he already had both -- is a pretty humbling thing. That's what people are finding so extraordinary.

Anyway, the full text of Rene's Gonzalez's article (BTW, Rene is a name for girls or French boys) can be found on UMass's website, but it has been down since experiencing an ENORMOUS load of traffic after his slam was picked up by CNN, ESPN, Sports Illustrated, and various other national news media. And so, for those of you who haven't seen it...

And in case you're wondering what qualifies Mr Gonzalez to offer his opinion with such authority on these matters of national consequence, he's got a degree in African-American Music.

No seriously, that's all he's got.

Anyway, I was immediately struck with the irony that here's a kid writing about sacrifice, when his own idea of the concept would be to stay in on a Saturday night to finish his fucking homework. I also kind of chuckled to myself, because this moron had no idea the world of shit he had just gotten himself into. There were many, many, many calls for me to flame the author of this editorial abortion. And yet somehow, I felt reluctant to flame this piece of shit.

I know, I'm amazed too.

Truth be told, I'm not entirely sure why I'm not frothing at the mouth to pounce on this guy. I know many of you will see the similarities between this situation and the one with Peter Kirstein, and I do too, but I also see one major difference. Kirstein was a figure of authority speaking to an impressionable student and I guess I was afraid of the possibility of someone adopting his warped sense of morality as their own.

This time, it's the impressionable student raising his voice, and I guess that makes it different. Not to mention the ideas he expressed in this article were so far off base, there's no way anyone with a shred of decency could read it and not feel dirty afterwards, let alone take them to heart. I guess I'm not quite sure how to explain it. I guess there's a part of me that thinks punishing this young man for voicing his opinion -- however misguided it may be -- would be more disrespectful of the 700+ soldiers who have fallen in Iraq, then his floundering attempt at an article could ever be.

Now as the First Amendment guarantees, you may totally disagree with my reasoning and have full recourse to express your ideas otherwise. I fully don't expect everyone to agree with me on this, considering God knows I don't fully understand it myself. But in an effort to deliver to you, my thriving masses, should you choose to exercise your right to voice your disagreement with Mr Gonzalez's opinions -- culled from the UMASS directories and his personal website before he took it down -- I present to you...

Rene Gonzalez
rene@student.umass.edu
renegonzalez7@hotmail.com
413-253-9639
one -- two -- three

Kind of makes you wonder what the fuck they're teaching these kids in college nowadays, doesn't it? Well, hopefully, he's seen the error of his ways by now.

Taking Chance

The following article was written by Lieutenant Colonel M.R. Strobl, USMC who is assigned to MCCDC Quantico, Virginia and served as the officer who escorted the remains of PFC C. Phelps USMC from Dover AFB, Delaware to his home.

PFC Phelps was assigned to 3rd Battalion, 11th Marines – an artillery unit functioning as a provisional infantry battalion during Operation Iraqi Freedom. PFC Phelps was killed in action from a gunshot wound received on 9 Apr 04 during combat operations west of Baghdad. He was buried in Dubois, Wyoming on 17 Apr 04.

This my friends, is why the press should not be free to film/photograph caskets returning from Iraq. Now, if a family decides it's okay to have their loved one's casket photographed, it is certainly their choice. But that should be the exception, not the norm. The fallen have done their duty and don't need to be used as pawns to wage a war of political opinion. Let them rest in peace.

Here is the story.

www.cellphonesforsoldiers.com -- www.opgratitude.com

When I Was A Kid!

Why is this beautiful girl wearing such a beautiful smile? Click her picture to find out!

When I was a kid adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up. What with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning uphill both ways through year 'round blizzards carrying their younger siblings on their backs to their one-room schoolhouse where they maintained a straight-A average, despite their full-time after-school job at the local textile mill where they worked for 35 cents an hour just to help keep their family from starving to death! And I remember promising myself that when I grew up there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it!

But, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today. You've. Got. It. So. Fuckin'. easy!

I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a goddamned Utopia! When I was a kid we didn't have the internet - when we wanted to know something we had to get off our fat asses and go to the library and look it up ourselves! And there was no email! We had to actually write somebody a letter! With a pen! And then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the fuckin' mailbox. And it would take like a week to get there!

And there were no mp3's or Napsters! You wanted to steal music, you had to go to the record store and shoplift it yourself! Or we had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ'd usually talk over the beginning and fuck it all up!

You want to hear about hardship? You couldn't just "download" porn! You had to bribe some homeless dude to buy you a copy of "Hustler" at the 7-11! It was either that or jack off to the lingerie section of the Sears catalog! That's it! Those were your only options!

We didn't have fancy shit like Call Waiting! If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal! And we didn't have fancy Caller ID Boxes either! When the phone rang, you had no fuckin' idea who it was...it could be your boss, your mom, a collections agent, your drug dealer, you didn't know!!! You just had to pick it up and take your chances!

And we didn't have any new age Sony Playstation videogames with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600 and Comodore 64! With games like "Space Invaders" and "Asteroids" and "Adventure" And the graphics sucked ass! See that little square? Your guy was that little fuckin' square! You had to use your imagination! And there were no multiple levels or screens; it was just one screen ....forever! And you could never win, the game just kept getting harder and faster until you died!

Just like life!

And When you went to the movie theater there was no such thing as stadium seating! All the seats were the same god damn height! If a tall guy sat in front of you? You were fucked! And sure, we had cable television, but back then that was only like 13 channels and there was no onscreen menu! You had to use a little shitty book called a TV Guide to find out what was on! And there was no Cartoon Network! You could only get cartoons on Saturday morning! D'ya hear what the fuck I'm saying? We had to wait all fuckin week, you spoiled little bastards! That's exactly what I'm talking about!

You kids today have got it too easy. You're spoiled, I swear to God! You guys wouldn't last five minutes back in 1984.

So how do ya suppose this happened?

Some pics of the 3rd Infantry Division's march into Baghdad in April 2003.

which is why I'm going to play it safe and just marry a stripper one of these days.

Sleep Easy, Specialist Tillman

"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feelings, which thinks that nothing is worth war, is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing, which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than him." -- John Stewart Mill (1806-1873)

Pat Tillman, who gave up a lucrative NFL contract with the Arizona Cardinals to join the Army Rangers, has been killed in Afghanistan today.

In the wake of the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks, Tillman decided to turn down a three-year, $3.6 million contract with the Cardinals to enlist in the Army. Tillman, who went through Special Forces training to become a Ranger, was first deployed to Iraq in March 2003 with the 75th Regiment Ranger Battalion. Tillman joined the Army with his younger brother Kevin in May 2002, but Pat Tillman denied requests for media coverage of his enlistment, basic training and ultimate deployments. According to Army officials at the time, Tillman wanted no special treatment, wanted no special attention, but wanted to be considered just one of the soldiers doing his duty for his country.

Thank you for your service and self sacrifice, Pat. Rest in peace, and Godspeed.

Subliminal Suggestions?

Hi ladies, I'm Ernie and I'd like to take a few moments of your time (sex) and tell you about some weird psychological phenomenon (sleep with me) that has been in the media forefront (I'm your love slave) in the past few years. I'm talking about subliminal suggestion.

Subliminal suggestion (buy me a car) is a technique in which the subconscious is made aware of a concept by having it exposed to them (and a stereo) too fast or in a way the the conscious mind can pick (you want me) up. Thus, the person so suggested (my room 8 tonite) finds himself doing something that he ordinarily wouldn't do (bring clean sheets). This technique was often seen being used (I'll get the champagne) in movie theatres, where one frame of a film would have a message like "Buy the popcorn." (and the condoms). This one frame goes by so fast the the conscious mind can't possibly assimilate it (I have incredible stamina), but many believe that the subconscious picks it up and causes the mind (I really want you) to act on it.

Does it really (all night is not out of the question) work? Who knows... (and we can bring the stuffed animals and the jello and the peanut butter and the nylon rope and watch "I Love Lucy" reruns and do things that they'll have to invent new names for when we're done and then we can sleep for 3 hours and do it all again) The jury is still out on that one.

Poor John, again. Political satirists just fucking love this guy. First their was this photo, which was proven true. Then this one, which actually was proven to be photoshopped. Ouch. Gonna get a fourth Purple Heart for that one, eh?

Added to the features section: t72 tank gets spanked and one hot babe and thunderbird ejection at airshow

Technology Sucks

I was watching television this weekend and I heard this beeping going off in the kitchen, the first thing I thought of was the smoke detector going off so I meandered into the kitchen and checked everything out. By the time I got to the kitchen, the beeping had stopped and I couldn't smell any smoke so I went back to watching my movie but I kept hearing a beep every minute or so.

I knew that the type of smoke detector that was in my condo was the type that took a few minutes to reset itself. I kept watching Kill Bill and about 10 minutes later I was really getting pissed off that the beeping continued. I paused the movie, ran out to the kitchen, un-hooked the smoke detector, and went back to Uma. The beeping continued. Knowing a little about electronics, I knew that the capacitors could hold a charge after the batteries were removed. About 20 minutes later I was really getting pissed because I could still hear the beeping. So I got so mad, I went out and grabbed a pair of wire cutters and cut the fucking speaker off the smoke detector and left it sitting on the counter. Confident I was victorious, I sat back down and heard "beep".

Now I was fucking red. I listened to that fucking "beep" about three more times and got a hammer and pounded the shit out of the fucking smoke detector on the counter (while I was pounding I heard "beep"). It was really getting me mad. I sat back down and un-paused the movie and sure enough "beep". I had the wire cutters in my hand and I went out (curious to see what the hell could still be running it) and cut all the little parts into pieces, and put half into a little plastic container and half left on the counter. I took half the parts over to the living room thinking if it beeps I know it's these, and half the parts I left on the counter knowing it would be them.

Fuck you, I win.

In moments I heard the parts in the kitchen, "beep". So I took them into the living room and spread them on the table, staring at them, saying to myself, "the fucking part that beeps, will get smashed" Not three seconds later, the parts I just had, now on the counter in the kitchen beeped. I was furious. I thought to myself, "this smoke detector is fucking possessed". I brought all the parts into the living room and layed them out on the coffee table. I was staring at them, just waiting for one of them to beep so I could smash the shit out of it. All of a sudden, I hear "beep", but it was coming from the kitchen. I walked out there, all freaked out. I just waited.. and waited.. it seemed like hours but was only 30 seconds later, I heard the mystifing "beep" coming from my friend's jacket. I looked in the jacket and it was his beeper that he had left there by accident.

All I could do was take my hammer and beat the ever living shit out of it, because it was me who paged him. The replacement fee was $79.99, but it was worth it.

Happy Patriots Day

229 years ago today, the Minutemen filled the British full of lead at Lexington and Concord, then dogged them from behind rocks and trees during the Redcoats' hasty retreat back to Boston. But there's no proof they shouted, "Eat mine breeches, motherfuckers!"

It's Tax Time Baby

Well, if any of you remember back last month when I posted this picture to EHOWA, I really got a kick out of it. Clearly the Marine in the photo has a sense of humor like my own. Unfortunately his jest was not well received by all, especially some assheads over at the Washington DC based Council on American-Islamic Relations. Some feel this photo is disrespectful to not only the Iraqi children in the photo, but to Arabs and Islam as a whole. Because you know, strapping fifteen pounds of dynamite to your chest and killing teenagers doesn't reflect poorly upon the Arab and Muslim communities at all. Or you know, filling a car with five hundred pounds of C4 explosives and destroying an entire fucking building of people who's sole purpose for being there is to get your electricity turned back on, that's perfectly fucking acceptable. No, no, surely focusing on one harmless prank photo that was taken to bring a little humor to an area filled with death and destruction (and suicide bombings) is much more of a slap in the face to Allah then killing innocent people in his name.

And to that mental abortion Gunnery Sgt. Jamal Baadani who was quoted as arguing, "If it was a local Iraq Arab that did this, he would have been shot by a family member on the spot for violating their family honor." Yeah, that's a real solid fucking argument, you idiot. That's like Elliot Ness jumping out of his car in front of a grocery store and screaming, "Hey motherfucker! If you had stolen that parking space from Al Capone instead of me, he'd have shot your ass dead right on the spot!" One of the reasons we're over there is to combat the religious extremism that empowers one of these fucking whackjobs to shoot other whackjobs in their "honor killings".

Jesus Christ, stupid people piss me off. I need a vacation, who's with me?

Although it seemed as though government bailouts were the answer to their woes, servicing smaller markets while operating with a competitive cost structure still remains one of the biggest hurdles until now...but the US Airways latest cutbacks are really starting to be obvious.

Are you seeing double? I'm seeing double. In fact, I'm seeing double double.

Okay, Back To Work Ya Slugs

Well, my Easter hiatus is over so it's time to quit slacking off and get back to the daily grind.

Early last week I received a bunch of pics of some unlucky bastard who passed out at a party and was literally colored brown with a magic marker. Don't believe me, see for yourself. So it occured to me that since it's spring break and there's lots of time to get drunk and get naked and do things like eat pussy I thought it might be neat to solicit pictures of people's exploits. So if you've got some pictures you'd like to share, send me the pics along with a brief description. Here's your chance to make your drunk buddy's alcoholic exploits world famous. I'll post the ones I like and whichever one tickles my fancy the most, I'll send you $50 to continue the party with. Of course, the more drunk and naked the better, but please R-rated only...no XXX stuff.

Here's a little fish that was caught May 3, 2003 in the Mississippi River. It has been certified as the 2nd largest gar ever caught and a Mississippi record. Earl's fish had a certified weight of 215 pounds with a total length of 7 feet, 11.5 inches and 40 inches of girth. It was caught in the Mississippi River with a homemade jig.

This my friends, is why immigrants should learn to speak and read English.

Someone posted this link recently on a local website, and to be honest, I almost pissed myself laughing. Don't get me wrong, I'm behind GWB 100%, but this is still kinda interesting.

Happy Mutha Fuckin' Easter

I say hop hop muthafucka, hop hop.

I Shall Fear Thee No Longer

I'm not proud to admit it, but did did anyone else watch Fear Factor last night and just become completely floored by all the knockers bouncing around? I sure as hell did. First they panned the camera to that short Shawnie chick who was built like a brick shithouse, and I I knew how I'd spend the next sixty minutes of my life watching her golden globe awards. Then they panned it over to some freaky lookin chick who was really thin and had tits the size of my head -- and I've got a big fuckin head -- and even better she was cold. Really cold. And she was a contortionist and a fire-eater and and she had a freaky name and tattoos all over. I was intrigued to say the least and decided this little hussy would be the object of my support.

But while I tried to urge her to victory as much as I could from my couch, telling her exactly which key she needed to try before the bulldozers got to her, alas she lost. So this morning I awoke and rubbed one out thinking of her, and decided to do a litte research to see if there was any info on this freak-chick-o-mine with the DSL's.

A Google search on "Fear Factor" led me here where I learned my little vixen's name is "Masuimi Max". Okay, but a google search on her name yielded me with a fucking ton of hits all of some Asian looking chick who appeared to be a porn star. Dammit I hate that, when a commoner like me shares a name with someone famous, so it's nearly impossible to find any info on the little guy. I've got the same name as some fucking soccer player, so I know how it is. I narrowed my search by adding "fear factor" and lo and behold, the same chick came up. What kind of treachery was this?

So as it turns out, my fearless Masuimi Max was the very same as the woman in all these sites. She's a...what do you call that when people take all kinds of pictures of you when you're ...ah...what's that called...naked? Yeah, a professional nude model. God dammit! Now while I enjoyed all the naked photos of her, this my friends, I found this discovery terribly disappointing. It confirmed what I was always trying to convince myself wasn't true -- that the contestants on Fear Factor aren't the hand picked cream of the crop, but just every day schmoe and schmoettes like me. But alas, they aren't and the show is now ruined for me. Damn you Joe Rogan. Damn you to hell.

Oh, and here's something from someone stationed in Bagdad. He was recently bitten by a camel spider which was hiding in his sleeping bag. I thought you'd like to see what a camel spider looks like. It'll give you a better idea of what our troops are dealing with. Enclosed is a picture of his friend holding up two spiders. Warning: not for the arachnophobic!

And in case nobody is clever enough to notice, I'm trying to create seperate pages for all the photo series pics I have, such as the midair collision between two F-18s and the infamous flat dockworker (gross!). Being the considerate motherfucker that I am, I'm trying to make it easier for people to email links around.

don't miss out on the

Ah Poor John

First the Gomer Pyle references. Then the Jane Fonda photo.

Now the political satires come out.

Ah, ain't politics grand?

And to those of you circulating the email about how John Kerry owns all these million dollar houses but still campaigns under the flag of the "common man" -- it's not entirely true -- please read this.

Worcester Language

Sure people from Worcester, Massachusetts talk funny. People from Mississippi talk funny. So do Minnesotans, Oregonians and New Yorkers. Especially New Yorkers. The bigger question is why does Worcester have a lake, a village, college and an avenue named Quinsigamond, but they're scattered around the city like leaves in the fall? No, it doesn't make sense unless you know that the community was called Quinsigamond long before it was called Worcester. It's an Indian word that means: "boy, are those guys fucked up."

So let's start with how not to pronounce Worcester. Don't make it three syllables. Just forget that first E is even there. And never, never, never put an H in the middle of Worcester. People will hurt you. So, how do you correctly pronounce Worcester to make people think you've been shopping at Spag's on Saturdays and going to Water Street on Sunday mornings your whole life? You've dropped the first E and boiled it down to two syllables. Now eliminate both R's. While you're at it, better get that C out of there. Make the remaining sort of an AH and turn the O into a U.

Say it with me: "Wuss-tah."

Now I know it's a little awkward. It doesn't rhyme with sister or rooster. The first syllable rhymes with puss. Go ahead and say it. Wuss-tah. Now you're almost ready to walk into a spa in the village and order a regular coffee and maybe a couple of tonics and a grinder. Oh and one more thing. Always include your state as part of your hometown, as in, "I'm from Wusstahmass."

Confused? Go back to New York and play in heavy traffic.

You know, I used to think Paris Hilton was a little too skinny for my taste, but I'm finding myself having second thoughts. She kind of grows on you.

9/11 rolling memorial truck

Beware Of Women Bearing Babies

A friend of mine emailed me early this morning and said he had heard that a local DJ had been nuked for saying "nipple" on the air. Now despote all this FCC bullshit that's going on, I immediately wrote him back, called him a dumbass and told him to look at his calender. I mean the date just *immediately* clicked - it's April Fools Day, duh.

But for whatever reason, when I got to work and read this email I received from a single chick I know who is known for making, well let's just say rather quick decisions sometimes, I wasn't altogether surprised...

It took me a few minutes before I put 2 and 2 together, but yes, April Fools on me. So be on guard people, thar be crazy people in them thar hills.