Open Letter to Seattle Public Libraries

Dear Seattle Porn Public Libraries:

So, you have to let people watch porn on the library computers.  Believe it or not, I understand the Constitutional law principles that require you to do so, and I also understand the slippery-slope on which censorship perches so precariously.  I believe in those Constitutional protections, and I believe censorship is very, very dangerous.

Despite having studied the applicable Constitutions at length, however, I can find nothing in them that protects a person’s right to watch porn on a library computer in the middle of the god damn library where others, including children, will see it.  Or to masturbate in the library, which is the reason that men sit down in front of a computer to watch porn (I’ve heard).  I know, shock and awe, shock and awe.  Trust me on this:  They are not watching porn to critique the production values, direction, or mise en scene.  They do it with one hand on the mouse and one hand on the mouse’s arch-enemy, the snake.

Have you seen the musical Avenue Q?  Watch this video, and it will explain EVERYTHING.

What is my point?

MOVE THE FUCKING PERVERTS WHO LIKE TO WATCH PORN IN PUBLIC TO A MORE SECLUDED PLACE IN THE LIBRARY WHERE THE SCREEN IS NOT VISIBLE TO CHILDREN AND OTHER LIBRARY PATRONS!!!

I’m fucking serious.  While the Constitution and the laws may prevent you from censoring Internet content, it does not protect people’s “right” to watch porn in a particular place within the library.  And it certainly doesn’t protect their right to jerk off in the library.  Anywhere.  So, when someone some man is watching porn in the open, require him to move to some corner of the library where the computer cannot be readily seen.  And if he dares rub himself even a little, throw his ass out onto the street, call the cops, get a restraining order.  I mean, if you can’t police the use made of library computers, then who gives a shit where you put them?

Otherwise, love you to death!

HorseKnuckle, the apparent genius

UPDATE!  I received a comment on this mess of a post, which raised some obvious issues with my analysis.  So, I’m modifying my Open Letter with this  BEEEEE-UUUUUUU- tiful HorseKnuckle original in Library Design.  Put the perverts within eye-shot but in places where their backs are against the wall.  Or how about this:  When you see a pervert doing something perverted in a public space, particularly a public library, call them out.  Do not make it the librarians’ job–their hands are tied by the law.  Do it yourself.  If you were being mugged or assaulted on the street, you would scream and yell and call for help, wouldn’t you?  Yes, you fucking would.  Well, a pervert who is watching porn in plain view in a public space is mugging and assaulting you, so scream and yell until they move on.  They do not want the attention, and others in the library will likely join you.  I certainly will.

And now, a HorseKnuckle original showing just how freaking AMAZING I am:

God damn, I'm amazing!

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Adventures in Hair

To prove a point, I decided to grow a beard.  What point, you ask?  Well, I can grow a beard in about 14 minutes, unlike lesser men.  And I did.

Holy shit, gramps!

See?  I told you.  This is just a few weeks worth of growth, and you will note in particular that:

I AM AT LEAST 117 YEARS OLD!

And hairy.

And I have at least two creases on my face that need to be filled with either Botox or Restalin or both.  Or maybe some fat from my ass.  I don’t know.

But that really isn’t the point of this rant/rave.  No.  Instead, I want to give you a little insight into my friendship plight.  Let me preface the following discussion by saying that my friends are first class assholes.  Not all of them, but a frightening majority.  Maybe even a super-majority.

Actually, probably 99%.  Anyhow . . .

Now, please know that I post a lot of shit on the Facebook, most of which falls on completely deaf ears and no one says a god damn word in response.  Today, however, I posted a few full-facial beard pics on the Facebook.  And the god damn Facebook-sphere lit up like an xmas tree.  Would you like to know what my “friends” had to say about my beard?  I knew you would.  Brace yourselves to be completely and utterly infuriated on my behalf.  In no particular order:

OMG You are SO gray!!!  But I still love u

you look homeless . . . shave . . now. thanks

We think you need to eat and shave.  You look like a dessicated Sting!  And that’s a lot for me to say . . .

Oh!  You were in an accident!

Why are you doing this?

Amigo if you prefer una barba… then it is your choice.. But I think you much more guapo without la barba…

Do you go to work looking this?

You need a boat captain hat and a corncob pipe.

Who kidnapped my hot funny friend.  And who let that homeless man into your house?  Someon call [the RDP] or 911 ASAP.  This is an emergency.

master of misdirection.  Best herpes cover up I’ve seen yet!

its an anorexic Santa! jk

Can anyone say Harry, as in Harry from the movie “Harry and the Hendersons”?

[My husband] says you look like Billy Bob Thornton.  I think it makes you look older than your fabulous self.

Ernest Hemingway called and wants his look back.

[You] eres muy guapo without la barba, this look… well don’t hate me, is not for you…

Sweetie, you look a little like the hermit who wrote the manifesto…his name escapes me. You’re much more handsome sans beard, that said, it is a nice beard…xo

Ted Kaczinsky? Are you fucking kidding me?  Well, then, I’m sending you a package.  Make sure you open it the minute you receive it.

With friends like these, who needs enemies?  Or an enema?

Now, I know that you are dying to know what the RDP thinks of the facial hair.  I can sum it up in a couple of simple quotes:

It’s like being married to my dad.

Get that shit away from me.

Don’t you EVEN try to kiss me with that mess.

So, I thought you said you were going to trim that or get rid of it.

Not all of the comments were derogatory, however.  No.  My sister-in-law had this to say:

Nice bread [sic].  [No, I am not making that up.  Bread.  Fuck.  Really?]

And a few others, who I have now put into my Last Will and Testament, had nice things to say about my growth.  To my detractors, however, I have a few words to say right back at you:

Fuck off.

I love you bitches.  Even your insults make me happy.  Actually, they make me both proud and happy, because I’ve trained you well.

Oh, and guess what?  I’m growing my pubes out, too, until I look like mother fucking Cousin Itt.  So bite me.

You ain't seen nothing yet!

UPDATE:  Additional comments since posting:

I’d say the more u can cover ur face, the better for all of us who have to look at it.

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Hey, Los Angeles: F.O.

Yesterday, some writer for the L.A. Times–a woman who actually lives here in Seattle–wrote an article calling us “wimps” and “clueless” when it comes to winter weather.  I’m sure the woman who wrote the article has been trapped in her own Seattle home, terrified to get into her Cadillac Escalade with California plates to drive herself to Gene Juarez to get her hair did.  Whatever.

But get this:  Tonight, the National Weather Service has issued a “Special Weather Statement” for the armpit of the West Coast because of incoming storms and guess what?  It’s gonna rain and the shizzle is gonna be crazy.  I quote:

This storm will bring light to moderate amounts of rainfall to the area. . . .  Areas should receive between [brace yourselves] one quarter and three quarters of an inch of precipitation. . . .  There will be the potential for local ponding of water on freeways and low-lying areas . . . .

Son-of-a-bitch.  Say it ain’t so!  You mean it’s gonna rain in L.A.?  And get this.  Things in Orange County are going to be dire:

Most of the rainfall will be light . . . but with rather long duration and will result in some slippery driving conditions.

I’m certainly glad the people in Southern California are so much stronger and smarter than Seattleites, because HOW THE FUCK ELSE COULD THEY POSSIBLY SURVIVE RAIN IN AMOUNTS MEASURED IN FRACTIONS OF AN INCH?  Oooooo.  Watch out.  Slippery.

Hey, L.A.!  Fuck off, you pretentious assclowns.  Oh, and since we’ve all been stuck inside up here due to actual weather-related travel problems today, we banded together and spent the day calling and having your plastic surgery appointments for next week cancelled.  We wouldn’t want you to go out in the rain unnecessarily and risk your tits, your lips, or your LIVES, now would we?

 

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Misplaced Priorities: Sports

I think we can all agree that the State of Washington and the country in general are in financial shit-dom.  And yet, when you stop to contemplate the amount of money we, as a nation, are willing to pay the coaches of our public institutions (let alone the money we are willing to spend on professional sports), your mind will melt and run out of your bunghole.  It’s fucking ridiculous and is just another sign of how fucked up our priorities are.

I know what you are thinking:  “You, HorseKnuckle, are just a bitter, angry, sports-hating fag who was always picked last for every team in school.”  To which I reply:  “You, vapid ankle-biter, are exactly right!  Kiss my ass!”  But hear me out.

Apparently, we just HAD to have a new coach at the Washington University that is over in the grass near the border of fucking Malaysia, or something.  I don’t know or care why, but I know there was already a coach in place, AND HE DIDN’T STAND BY WHILE HIS ASSISTANT COACH RAPED 10 YEAR OLD BOYS IN THE FOOTBALL SHOWERS!!  Shocker, I know.  So, why fire him?  Beats the fag out of me.  Nevertheless, he was fired yesterday and replaced by some Texas yea-hole who has never played college football but who allegedly locked a player in a closet with a head injury or quelque chose comme ça.  That would be fine with me, except the dude from Texas is now THE HIGHEST PAID PUBLIC EMPLOYEE IN THE STATE OF WASHINGTON!  No fucking bullshit.

People of intelligence would say, “Well, how much could it possibly be?  I mean public employees are not known for earning top dollar like people in the private sector.  What is it, a few hundred thousand dollars a year?”  To which I would reply, “You are clearly stoned because a few hundred thousand dollars a year to play sports all fucking day is a lot of money.”  And then I would blow your intelligent underpants right off of you by telling you that his salary will be . . . wait for it . . .

Shut Your ASS!

Indeed.  Oh, plus performance incentives.  Do the math.  Fuck it, nevermind, pretty.  I’ll do it for you:  more than $2.2 million/year.  FOR FOOTBALL!

As shocked as you may be by that, take it from me:  It’s only the tip of the iceberg of misplaced priorities in this state (and the country).  Rounding out the top 5 public employee salaries are . . . wait for it . . . oh fuck it.  More coaches!  All of them.

• UW Football Coach Seamore Cash makes almost $2 million/year
• UW Basketball Coach Papi Warbucks makes $1.1 million/year
• WSU Basketball Coach Johnny Deepockets makes in the upper 6 figures (just shy of $750,000)
• UW Ass’t Football Coach Gary “Second in Command” Greenbacks also makes in the upper 6 figures ($650,000+)

[N.B. Names have been modified slightly to protect the guilty.]

You, too, can find this information by simply looking through the records of the Washington Office of Financial Management (or mismangement, as the case may be).  Just think of the ways in which that money could be much better spent by the State:  tuition reduction (seems obvious), education (more/better paid teachers, perhaps), social services, prescription medicine subsidies, health care, infrastructure, transportation, parks and rec, and the list goes on and on until you want to squeeze your nuts so hard you pass out.

Fucking fuckers.

PostyScripty:  I want to make sure I’m clear that the salaries paid are not out of tax revenue, but out of athletics revenue.  In other words, the money generated by athletics is kept by the athletic departments to fund athletics.  None of it is or can be diverted to each institution’s mission of education or to other state expenses, even though it is all revenue generated by a public institution.  Don’t get me wrong:  I think sports are an important component of education and can make all sorts of arguments about why they have a place in education and in people’s fat, sedentary lives.  My point, lest I be less than clear, is that it maddens and saddens me to see that, in a country where protestors are marching in the street about our bad economy and socio-economic inequity, we celebrate the hiring of a football coach who will make upwards of $2 million PER YEAR coaching for a PUBLIC institution, and many of us (and I actually mean you) rush out to spend gobs of money on season tickets or donate big-time cash to an athletic department.  I don’t care where that money comes from–it could even grow on a god damn tree on WSU’s campus for all I care.  What I find alarming is that when so many have so little, we (you) are happy to see a coach make millions while our teachers will make on average $54,000 this year, our state legislative representatives will make less than that (both reps and senators), and the Governor of our state makes only $166,000 to serve as the de facto CEO of a entity that employs more than 112,000 people.

I’ll say it again:  $2,250,000 per year to coach football =  misplaced priorities.

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Oh, Tubs, You Ugly Skank

Remember Tubs, that skanky “spa” place on 50th and Roosevelt in Seattle’s University District where you could rent “tub rooms” by the hour and soak in a mud bath with the person or persons of your choice–or hiring–completely “platonicly” and naked or get your tan on or catch a sexually transmitted disease?

Me neither.

Nevertheless, it closed.  Can’t imagine why.  And now, it is the biggest fucking eyesore in Seattle (after the EMP, of course).  To wit:

Former sex den, now eyesore! Yay!

Wait!  What’s that in the picture that I took this fine and dreary Seattle afternoon?  Why those are grafitti artistes in the act.  I am sure they have something important to say about the economy or something, right?

Wrong.  They are just painting ugly shit on top of other ugly shit.  Congrats, artistes.  Very compelling.

Do you want to know what is even more compelling?  The owner of this fucking dump allows people to paint the building, and, therefore, nothing can be done about it.  I researched it (or I researched others who researched it).

Hard to believe, I know.  You’d think that the City of Seattle would come up with some compelling governmental interest that would meet constitutional muster so that it could regulate this sort of thing on private property.  Something like, oh, “Allowing this sort of behavior increases the incidence of actual illegal grafitti in the neighborhood because IT DRAWS GRAFITTI ARTISTES FROM FAR AND WIDE TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD where they scribble ugly shit on other property.”  Or something.

Some people think it’s charming.  It isn’t.  This is like taking a famous Rodin and allowing brats to further sculpt it with Play Dough.  Originally, it may have had some artistic value (which is arguable, in my mind), but now?  It’s just a fucking mess.

Never one to point out a problem without posing a solution, I offer the following:

1.  A gallon of gasoline;

2.  A match; and

3.  Marshmellows (if you don’t mind if your marshmellows catch a sexually transmitted disease).

Toasty.

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PHQ -> ASS -> HOL*

Are you the douchebag who posts your travel plans as codes on Facepages/Mybook/Chirper or any of the other social networking blogs that I follow? 

Stop it.

I did not go to school to become a travel agent.  My mother did.  You’d do much better to friend her generation of people than mine, because I am sick of you.  If you keep it up, then, every time I see one of your 3-letter posts, I am immediately going to start praying (and/or casting spells) that your plane runs off the runway when it lands–albeit in a fashion that doesn’t kill anyone (that’s just too politically fucking incorrect) but just causes as much disruption and pants-peeing as possible to totally ruin whatever trip you are going on.

I have warned you.  Knock the shit off.

*If you are wondering, that’s Fuck You, Asshole in airport code.

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