My buddy Randy from Montana tagged me with a dreaded meme. The idea is that I’m supposed to tell you eight random things about me and then torment tag eight others to do the same.

Seeing as how I’ve already revealed my “eccentricities” and “five habits,” there’s enough “random” there to go around.

I won’t be tagging anyone, but if you feel you’d like to share your inner self with every kook on the planet with a computer and an internet connection, have at it.

Hardly.

I love these one-word posts, even though I just turned this one into a nineteen-word post.

The legislature in New Jersey could barely wait until the election was over in November to set the wheels in motion to do away with the death penalty in New Jersey. It didn’t take them long to get it done. The state senate today abolished the death penalty and Governor Corzine promises to sign the bill into law next week.

Well, alrighty then.

It is not surprising that this legislative missile was kept in its silo until after the election, because none of the creeps running for office wanted to take a public position on an issue that is so controversial and so divides the electorate.

It turns out that, when someone got around to actually asking the people of New Jersey what they thought about the matter, the voters of New Jersey are divided on the issue, but not all that much.

A Quinnipiac University poll found that by a margin of 53 to 39%, New Jersey voters opposed eliminating the death penalty. But, when asked whether they preferred a life sentence without the possibility of parole over the death penalty for first degree murderers they split 52 to 39%, with 52% preferring the life sentence. Most interesting, however, is that 78% of those polled wanted the death penalty kept for extremely violent offenders such as f serial killers and child killers.

One thing that is clear about these results is that they don’t support the legislature’s lightening fast abolition of the death penalty in all cases. What they do support is all-too-often demonstrations of the unbridled arrogance, bordering on contempt, that the legislature has for the citizens of New Jersey.

The abolition of the death penalty means that one of the people who no longer has to worry about being put to death is Jesse K. Timmendequas,

Remember him?

He’s the waste of oxygen, convicted sex offender who raped and murdered seven-year old Megan Kanka, which led to the passage of Megan’s Law in New Jersey and similar laws in other states.

Timmendequas lived with two other convicted sex offenders across the street from his victim [seven-year old Megan Kanka]. He lured the girl into his house by offering to show her a puppy. After raping her, he slammed her head onto a dresser, put two plastic bags over her head, and strangled her to death with a belt. He moved her body to his truck, assaulting her once again before placing her in a wooden toy chest and dumping it in nearby Mercer County Park.

I think there is room for reasonable debate about the application of the death penalty, particularly in light of the importance of DNA evidence, which has been used to exonerate innocent offenders (and convict the guilty – except for O.J.). But, that leaves plenty of room to argue that pieces of shit like Jesse Timmendequas should have been put to death years ago. Instead, he’ll get to live, have three squares per day, use the prison library, write appeals, watch TV, perhaps write a book, and maybe even like that other animal, “Tookie” Williams, he’ll become a celebrity fave.

Meanwhile, Megan Kanka is still dead.

Hat tip to The Idiom for reminding me about the animal, Jesse Timmendequas.

Dear Santa,

I know I should have written sooner, but I’ve been really busy trying to save the free world. I have been a good girl; really I have, so I hope you can bring me the things on my list. Being a compassionate, charitable and caring person, I have also included some gifts I would like you bring to other people. After all, it’s not all about me.

Here’s my list.

Information I can use to prove that that Barack asshole has some icky disease that makes his wizzle drip.

Some dirt on Oprah would really be swell too.

A decent voice coach.

A pill that promotes erectile dysfunction, so I can sneak it into Bill’s fried cheese sandwiches.

An ass lift (No, I don’t mean a balloon ride for Bill)

Some kickass weed (For medicinal purposes, of course)

Wonder Woman panties

A mirror that tells me I’m the fairest of them all.

A boob job (No, I don’t mean a gig for Bill. It kills me that Nancy has better tits than I do.)

Gifts for others

Tooth decay and baldness for that smarmy prick, John Edwards.

Explosive diarrhea for that lardass Tim Russert the next time he’s live on TV.

Chronic laryngitis for those jackboot-wearing, right-wing, fascist, racist radio talk show bastards, who constantly say I have no compassion. Pricks, they should eternally burn in hell. (Sorry, Santa. I got carried away there.)

A clue for Barbra Streisand (I know she’s trying to help, but, my God, she’s killing me with stupid).

For Bill, an exploding cigar.

Like I said, Santa, I’ve been a really, really good girl, and I really, really hope you can bring everything I’ve asked for. I left you some yummy chocolate chip cookies and a nice glass of milk.

Your pal,
Hilly

P.S. But, remember one thing. If you screw this up, your fat ass is mine once I become the President. Got it?

Both at the same time. Not a good combination for blogging.

Consider yourselves spared.

A day or so ago I was reading at Sweetthing’s site about a Russian program that “can mimic online flirtation” in chat rooms in order to obtain personal information from other participants in the chat rooms as part of an identity theft scheme.

I got to wondering how a bot like that might work. I figure it would go something like this:

Bot: Any wild babes out there wants to get down and get fanky? I’m interested in something sassy, who wants to throw mud in our eyes!

American Girl: Dude … What is your name?

Bot: I am Ivan. What is your handle?

American Girl: My handle? Oh, wait. I’m Tiffany. I’m from L.A.

Bot: I’m sorry. I don’t understand L.A. Please clarify.

American Girl: Dude … Los Angeles. Los Angeles, California. You must not be from this country.

Bot: Was that a question or a statement? Please clarify.

American Girl: Wow. Are you a Vulcan or some shit?

Bot: I am neither a Vulcan nor some shit. Are you a girl?

American Girl: Of course, I’m a girl. Do you know any guys named Tiffany?

Bot: Sorry. Tiffany was not in my database.

American Girl: Your database? You must be a Vulcan. Live long and prosper, Dude!

Bot: Thank you. May your lovers not have crabs.

American Girl: What? Crabs? Nice talking to you Ivan. I’m outta here.

Bot: Please don’t exit. I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?

American Girl: Jesus, Ivan, you said that you hope my lovers don’t have crabs. That’s really seriously gross.

Bot: I am so sorry. Really I am. I meant to say, I hope your lovers don’t have scabs.

American Girl: Oh, I get it. You’re a jokester.

Bot: A jokester. Yes, that’s it. I’m a jokester.

American Girl: I like jokesters. Where are you from?

Bot: Where would you like me to be from?

American Girl: Ha! With a line like that, I hope you’re from far away.

Bot: I am from far away.

American Girl: OK, let’s try this. What’s your sign?

Bot: My sign?

American Girl: Yeah, your sign. What is it?

Bot: My sign is … Welcome to Moscow. You must clean up your dog shit.

American Girl: Ivan, this is going nowhere. I’ve got to go to work early tomorrow. See ya.

Bot: Please, don’t go. I’m lonely.

American Girl: OK, maybe one more minute. Being lonely sucks.

Bot: Yes, being lonely sucks.

American Girl: Sure does. I’ll let you take the lead. What would you like to chat about?

Bot: Do you have big pendulous breasts?

American Girl: Screw you, Ivan.

Bot: Yes, screw me! When?

American Girl: You’re one sick puppy.

Bot: Do you like dogs?

American Girl: Get help, Ivan.

Bot: What is your address?

American Girl: Get lost, Ivan.

Bot: What is your social security number? Please give me your PIN. I need it for my records. Please send me a copy of your driver’s license. Your blood type, please?

American Girl:

Bot: What is your mother’s maiden name? Your father’s middle name? What was the name of your first pet? Please verify your credit card numbers. Your PayPal account is will be closed. Please verify your information.

American Girl:

Bot: You’re obviously not sassy and you’re not interested in getting down and getting fanky. Good nightsky.

Did you ever have a work day in which you were too busy to spend even ten seconds thinking about what you might like to write for fun? At the end of the work day, did you have some errands to attend to that not only occupied your mind, but aggravated it as well? Once the errands were complete, did you have to rummage around the internet to do some online shopping?

After all that, did you have any hope of writing something worth even half a shit?

Me either.

I’m thinking how seriously cool this would be if he could simultaneously tap dance.

via Side Salad

Much has been written about NBC’s refusal to accept a paid advertisement from Freedom’s Watch, which offers thanks to the troops serving during the holiday season. According to NBC, the ad was not the problem, but rather it was the ad’s mention of Freedom’s Watch’s website.

We’ve come to a sad point when saying thank you to our military personnel is considered to be high octane politics, rather than a genuine expression of thanks.

I would hope that all veterans with anything resembling a blog or a website will post the ad to fill the gap created by NBC’s refusal to do so. You see, veterans understand the importance of a simple “thank you,” even if the management of NBC doesn’t.

Each year fewer and fewer people remember what happened on December 7, 1941, which is sad.

Above is a photo of the U.S.S. Arizona before it was sunk on December 7, 1941, the date when the nation of Japan attacked United States Forces in Hawaii.

At the time of the attack, Japan’s envoys were in the United States to discuss peace.

Please keep that in the back of your mind the next time a presidential candidate says we should break our asses to TALK to the bad guys.

I’m just sayin’.