Sully Sullenberger and the Fucked Up Culture in Which We Drone

So, Sully Sullenberger... Remember him? He's the guy that saved all of those people on the Hudson River when his plane encountered a flock of seagulls (the actual birds, not the fucking band)?

So, anyway, Sully got a book deal and a chance to tell his story. You know, nothing against the guy personally, but I was thinking a few weeks ago, somewhere in the dark spaces between beer sips and ejaculations, of how bereft we are of true heroes in this fucking country. You know what I mean?

Think about it: We've given attention, adoration, and love to a pilot whose career highlight has been CRASHING INTO THE HUDSON RIVER!!

All day long, planes land and take off, land and take off, land and take off, and no one says boo about it, but here's a guy whose plane was taken over by birds and he gets a book deal? Now, granted, I'm sure this would've made for a great scene in a Hitchcock film, but really, folks, come on!

Some pilots almost get their planes taken over by terrorists, they fight back, regain control of the thing, and they're barely a blip on the media screen. This guy got his ass kicked by FUCKING SEAGULLS AND LOST!! This Maverick's skills are writing checks his body and airborne foul can't cash!

But what really rashes-up my taint is the fact that this guy just won't go away! He's been on Larry King more times than Larry King's wife. He's been on the Today Show, the Tonight Show, Jimmy Kimmel, CBS, ABC, NBC, Fox News, but the cherry on top was the fact that he made an appearance at the fucking Superbowl this year. That was just taking it too far, simply because I've lived near Detroit my whole life, and the Lions, in my lifetime, have never - NEVER - made it to the Superbowl once, and they've learned to crash and burn with grace for fucking years!

Warhol once said that we'd all be famous for fifteen minutes. If so, would someone please start winding the damn watch?

I love you all.


Mike McHone
8-20-07

Hey, Let's Have 18 Fucking Kids and Make a Show About it!

What is the deal lately with women that want to turn their vagina's into clown cars? For Christ's sake, stop that! John and Kate, the Octomom, the idiots on 18 Kids and Counting... Are these people retarded? How can it be a wonderful experience for a woman to push a six or seven pound object through the most tender and precious part of her anatomy EIGHT FUCKING TIMES!?

And where do these fuckers work? How can that twit John afford to have eight goddamn kids? Christ, isn't he emasculated enough as it is being forced to raise a brood of whiny brats, but to slave away at a job just to keep clothes on the little fuckers backs and food in their stomachs... The guy has had to have looked at a bridge and imagined jumping off at least a few times in his life.

But now John and Kate are getting a divorce. And sooner or later John's going to have to start kicking in that child support, and I'm sure that vicious bitch Kate won't let him skate off without cutting her some alimony. After all, she'll tell the judge that she can't possibily work, she can't possibly hold a job, because she's has EIGHT FUCKING KIDS to care for. So, Johnny will be relagated to a dingy, one bedroom apartment while Kate and her massive snatch will have a nice big house all to their lonesome.

Pathetic.

Mike McHone arrives

Like the sound of dirty thunder, like a Monday with a knife in its teeth, like your grandma sneaking up on you while you masturbate furiously in the laundry room, I arrive.

This is blog numero uno. And if I like doing it (like sex) it will be the first of, hopefully, many, provided I don't goddamn die any time soon.

Oh, well. Nothing much else to say.

I might, tomorrow, talk of the crap-world of health care and how our fearless leader Changey McChange dropped the fucking ball. But that's for another time. I am tired. Need to slumber.

I love you,

Mike McHone