Wednesday, January 23, 2013

A Magic Eight Ball whose only Answer for everything is PRAYER, but try shaking it anyway: an open letter to Rick Perry:

Not to bring up old shit, but let’s look at your track record. Your big push for the presidency was an ad about how gay dudes shouldn’t be able to fight openly in the military. Not a good move. Turns out, people don’t really hate gay folks as much as you want them to believe you do. The words you were searching for were “Thank you for serving our country”, a service you never bothered to do and you were a Military Science major.  I never served in the military either, but I support ANYBODY who’s willing to lay down their life for the benefit of this great country. You should re-evaluate your priorities, perhaps try an attitude of gratitude. 

The part of Planned Parenthood that provides abortions is completely separate from the one that provides health care to lower income women -- you know, the one that consists of treatment for cancer, diabetes, STI's, high-blood pressure, checkups, and yes contraception.  You refused federal funding in any way for all services. So now all of these women have to go without medical attention or pay out of pocket. That was 200 million dollars that you turned your nose up at, and you don’t even own a vagina. You care for children until they're born. Your message to children then becomes “go outside and practice breaking some rocks”. You signed a bill slashing education by 4 billion dollars. Great, so now that we have all these kids, let’s not educate them.  Way to keep Texas competitive, Rick.  Are you kidding me?

Your latest is a response to gun control. “Texas needs prayer.”  No, what Texas needs is a leader who can stand up and deliver a message without sounding like a total tool bag.  I have no problem with responsible gun ownership. I appreciate the skill of marksmanship. Our problem is crazy people, and at this point in the game, one could very easily argue that we currently have one living in the governor’s mansion.  Sane gun owners don’t kill people. Crazy people kill people and it doesn’t matter if they own guns, because they will find guns or something else that works. Texas ranks dead last in mental health spending per capita. Increase mental health spending, at least as a proactive measure to show your constituents that perhaps you have a vision that will prevent the need for guns in regard to protection.

Your priorities are way out of whack.



John Padgett

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Exiled to France: An open letter to Lance Armstrong


Dear Lance,
It’s not the doping that pisses us off. Cycling is a sport that’s rife with performance enhancing drugs of some sort or another. I also realize that this is going to sound like a tween movie cliché if I say, “everybody does it”, but it’s true in this case. It’s become sort of an unspoken understanding that a huge chunk of those competing in the sport are doping. Cheating is so rampant in the Tour De France that when blood doping isn’t found, they blame the bike.

It’s the lying that pisses us off. Wait. It goes beyond lying. It’s adamant lying. Then when people accuse you of doing it, you sue them. Wait. It goes beyond suing, you annihilate them. Lance, you’ve ruined lives, over and over again. I’ve never met you, but I know plenty who have and everyone says the same thing. “He’s a prick.” In fact, you’re a self-identifying prick. I understand that it takes a special soul to reach the level of achievement you have.  You’ve beaten everything that’s come across your path and you’re invulnerable. Perhaps that’s why you expose yourself to women you work with. What are they going to do? You’re Lance Armstrong. Everyone not on “team Lance” is treated like cancer, to be dominated, defeated and annihilated. It’s a shame. I feel sorry for you.

You say you came clean because of your family. You did it for your kids.  I don’t buy it. That is the most selfish thing I believe I’ve ever heard. If you really had your family and children in mind, you would have denied it and taken your secret to the grave. Instead, you have placed your indisputable shame on the shoulders of your children to carry for the rest of their lives. It’s impossible to outshine you. You’ve worked hard to make it that way. Because of that fact, your handiwork will smudge every achievement your children will ever make in some way. Thanks, dad!

I’m pissed that you’re a Texan. It’s bad enough that GW Claims to be from here (he’s not. He was born in Maine. Sorry Maine, but hey, you got Stephen King.). You have taken the Texan counter argument away from us when we travel abroad.  When I would go to Europe and tell people I am from Texas and they’d wrinkle their noses like they’ve just smelled a fart and say “George Bush” and then I’d drop your name and everything would be okay. I can’t do that now. Thanks, Lance!

So what now? I’m sure all your proverbial chickens are coming home to roost and the lawsuits are about to beat down your door. As far as the endorsements are concerned, you have sold more merchandise for these companies than they could have ever sold without you. You have made many people a great deal of money. That money should remain to be yours; that said, it’s time you fix what you broke. Now you pay for all the lives you’ve destroyed and careers you’ve ruined, some of which can’t be fixed.  Next, leave the state. You have furthered the already sullied reputation of what it means to be a Texan with your behavior. You are no longer Texan. Don’t claim it. You should be banished to France. I’m sure they will be licking their chops to hear that you’re coming…and take Rick Perry with you, we’re done with that nut-sack too.

You were the best thing to ever happen to cancer. For cancer survivors, you were the living symbol of perseverance and triumph over a creeping death sentence, living proof that the odds can be beaten, Austin’s favorite son. 

A huge disappointment.


John Padgett

Saturday, January 12, 2013

It appears the mother-ship of giggling spastics has beamed down an away team.

A late afternoon at the coffeehouse.

I was originally going to post about my family or the flu epidemic but instead, I am now going to blast these ridiculous morons. Let’s take this point by point. If you’re at a coffeehouse, please realize that many people are here to work. I am one of these people.  Irritating me will get you marginally famous…and not in a good way. For the record, I don’t give flying can of smashed assholes about your conversation, but if you get in the way of my work, I will absolutely provide color commentary of your conversation.

I realize that reading has fallen out of fashion, and therefore, I’m not in the slightest bit worried that any of the above pictured morons is reading this, and if you are, it’s most likely going to take you weeks to get through this smidgeon of an article, and then there’s the hurdle of comprehension…yeah, I’m going to sleep easy.

  1. If you suck at reading aloud, don’t come to the coffeehouse and practice. No one wants to hear you sound-out your way through “The Little Engine that Could.”  There she was, blithely giggling away as simpletons do. Pecking away at her smartphone and then reading out factoids at the top of her lungs…badly. “Peanuts aren’t really nuts. Prairie dogs aren't really dogs at all. Panda bears aren’t really bears.” It goes on and on. Hey guess what? You being told to “Go fuck yourself.” Isn’t intended as wishing you the best on your evening alone. There’s a fact for you.
  2. Go ahead. Say “like” one more time. “I was like oh my god. That’s like totally how I got Herpes”.  Once the can of "LIKE" was opened, the gaggle of spastics LIKE exploded. Like flew everywhere. It was akin to a Facebook post of a kitten sneezing or a puppy that woke itself up with a fart. Like. Like. Like. Like.
  3. It’s “hanged”. No really, it is. While I’m moderately impressed that you sort of know who Guy Fawkes was, there’s no way to tell whether or not he was hung. He was hanged. Hung refers to cock size, but let’s not go down the reproductive road for you. In fact, let’s just go ahead cross that off your to-do list altogether. Spare the gene pool. Where’s your sense of mercy?
Through my shameless eavesdropping, I’m wondering if my being a curmudgeon has derailed my sense of compassion and led me down the path of heartlessness. Have I completely lost it? Nope. I still have a love of humanity. It’s inconsiderate behavior that I despise. It’s the lack of regard. It’s their parents that should be popped in the mouth with a wooden spoon for rearing these children in an environment that fosters this behavior. I’m sure at the end of the day these young people are perfectly nice, probably when they’re asleep.