Author: Greg

Gut Check: Evil Dreams Big

Evil never takes a holiday; in fact, it capitalizes on them. Evil sees a busload of tourists as a piñata it would like to see burst. Evil has no picnics planned, no three-day weekends fishing at the cabin, no trips to the shore with drunken alums. There are no charity fun-runs for the devil. What is the devil, these days? We’ve realized it’s not the one of old–the one we grew up thinking was evil. As a tyke, I looked to the USSR for my example of wretched godlessness. As a bloated state intent on expansion, it certainly was the devil to its people, burying tens of millions of citizens under the thumb of coercive progressivism known as communism. But it wasn’t a death cult that projects its blood lust on others, at all times. Brezhnev never sent planes into our buildings. Something tells me that sort of thing would even turn the belly of a socialist (unless they’re currently teaching at one of our campuses). Optimism over the decline of al Qaeda is folly. For as we’ve come to understand over and over again, they only need to succeed once to make it hurt. And given the new weapons at their disposal, succeeding once could end it all, for good. Incidentally, President Obama undermined his own claims about this so-called decline as he sought to explain the data...

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The Grounding of Big Government

You remember near the end of the Monty Python flick, The Meaning of Life– that scene featuring Mr. Creasote? He’s the morbidly obese freak who gorges on food, until finally, after eating a mint offered by the waiter, completely explodes, sending his guts in all directions. I was a senior in high school when I saw it, and I remember it clearly. I skipped dinner that night. And I remember the scene now, as I’ve watched this IRS scandal unfold. I keep thinking about that mint, and that this scandal is that mint. With this exposed plan of intimidation, big government has finally, irrevocably exploded all over us–drenching us in its own corrupt excesses. It’s gotten so fat, so immensely greedy, so impossibly grotesque, that the only thing that can end it is itself. Big government exists only through expansion. The bigger it gets, the harder it is to kill. But it got too cocky; it grew too fast, and now all of its insides, are outside–for all of us to see. Which is why this is no time to lend it a helping hand. Let big government die from its own desires. The IRS, to its own horror, has just helped create a new movement. Think about it: If you were to go to a hardware store right now, buy a sign and paint “audit this,” and place...

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Intervention

When I watch that really depressing TV show Intervention, it’s only to feel better about myself. It’s one of the great benefits of television: it’s personal therapy that elevates self-esteem quicker than a pep talk from a noxious life coach. If I’m feeling down, I watch Intervention. If I’m feeling really down, then it’s Hoarders. If Hoarders cannot make you feel better about your lot in life – then you might be hopeless. Which, at that point, it’s time to watch Hardcore Pawn. Hardcore Pawn is an amazing show for one severely disturbing reason: it’s helped to introduce what I now call “city-billies.” See, for the longest time, we’ve poked fun at the rural folk, referring to them as hillbillies. They’re the gap-toothed inbred freaks who fry squirrels and poop in buckets down by the creek. Deliverance immortalized them – now they’re the butt of every lazy, lame joke about the south. We call ‘em rednecks. See the recent, stupid study done by Movoto, which lists the most redneck cities, based on number of Walmarts and lack of education. They’re able to commit this sort of lame BS, because, well, no one cares. Essentially, a real estate brokerage firm just whispered, “You don’t want to move here,” regarding some of America’s major cities. Imagine if they had substituted “redneck” with something else. Funny thing is, hillbillies and rednecks are...

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A Friendly Note to Jim Carrey and Jason Biggs

Originally published on Breitbart.com March 29, 2013 Look: the Jim Carrey gun control video wasn’t about the second amendment. It was really about Carrey–a waning star embracing sanctioned targets to create the false front of intelligence. Sort of like America’s drone program. So it’s fitting we began this Holy Week with Carrey ridiculing the late Charlton Heston, and now end with Jason Biggs tweeting predictable jokes about the Pope. There were three. Trust me, they’re forgettable. As is Jason. But Pope jokes are as old as the Pope, and by all means, make them. That’s why our country’s great, because washed-up comics have the right to suck. Based on that, Jason and Carrey are civil rights pioneers. They’re sort of the Jackie Robinsons of sucking. I love the first amendment, and Twitter especially–for it exposes the soft underbelly of the celebrity simple mind. They undo everything their publicists try to mask. The mystery is replaced by the moronic. But really, Jimmy and Jason, if you want to create the illusion of edge, at least take a risk. Stop choosing targets approved by your sheep-like peers. The only people you’re impressing are those paid to pretend you’re funny—i.e., your dates, and your agents. Which is why Jason thinks it’s cool to hit the pope but lacks the beans to do the same to Muhammad. It’s why Jimmy attacks gun owners...

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GUTCHECK 2012 : the stuff my earholes enjoyed most

So it’s the new year, and here’s the crap I really liked about last year. Hope this year is better. – gg ALBUMS Tilts – Tilts A perfect rock album providing the perfect soundtrack to cheap 12 packs downed in a parking lot – each song offering a melody and a riff that most groups spend decades never finding. Andrew Elstner sings lead and plays lead, while also bolstering the best metal band on the planet, Torche. His voice embraces the turf without irony – a true find for anyone who thinks there’s nothing out there but adenoidal beta males. He sounds like the dude from the New Pornographers – an alpha male voice trapped in a glam rock world, with a knack for sticky melodies. This record is so purely rock and roll that if you listen to it for seven hours straight – – you actually grow tattoos. Devin Townsend band – Epicloud How did I miss this guy? This record is so ridiculously over-the-top it should be mocked, except that it’s so great it MOCKS YOU. Imagine Slayer having sex with the Polyphonic Spree in a decompression chamber, and this is what you get. Each song contains one of each: rousing choruses, infectious melodies, brutal riffage. An ambrosia salad of the Wildhearts, Mike Patton and Muse – in a perfect world, his stuff would be in...

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