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D.A.H.O.F. Enshrines Kevin Sorbo

<> at Grimaldi Forum on June 9, 2011 in Monaco, Monaco.Hercules was half god.  Kevin Sorbo, the actor who famously played him for years on syndicated television, is not half god–he’s half mortal.  The rest is all dumb ass, and in recognition for this he is the latest candidate to earn a place in the storied Dumb Ass Hall of Fame.

A vocal self-proclaimed conservative, Sorbo is a regular contributor to right-leaning internet publications, but has never been known for the sort of breathless anger and disregard for fact that characterizes most opportunistic wingnut commentators.  He passed as rational, if somewhat misguided, until recently.

In response to the riots which followed the killing of unarmed teenager Michael Brown by a police officer, and the subsequent efforts by police and local government to distract and evade demands for accountability, Sorbo fell into a very typically racist rebuttal, describing the protestors as something less than human, and less worthy of justice:

“Ferguson riots have very little to do with the shooting of the young man. It is an excuse to be the losers these animals truly are. It is a tipping point to frustration built up over years of not trying, but blaming everyone else, The Man, for their failures. It’s always someone else’s fault when you give up.”

Losers. And animals.

Then he blames the press. ”Want the riots to end in Ferguson? Ban the media who are nothing more than agitators promoting the circus environment and inciting outsiders to join in the frenzy” 

When the story quickly went viral, Sorbo cowardly pulled his comments from his facebook page and offered up a half-assed mea culpa that wasn’t so much an apology, but a ‘what I meant to say was….” clarification in which he still managed to be an dumb ass.

“Okay….I stand humiliated and humbled. My most sincere apologies for my post on the events in Ferguson. I posted out of frustration and anger over the violence and looting. My words were never meant to hurt the African-American community. My use of the word “losers’ was directed at those doing the looting and vandalising and violence toward others. Anyone who does that is a loser in my book. So I will not apologise to those who are looting stores and vandalising there own community. I am very sorry for the police shooting. To answer violence with violence is not the answer here. Real leaders need to emerge out of that community to deal with the problems with the excessive use of police force. I agree with you that the police action has only added to the reaction of the residents of Ferguson. Yes. I am an idiot and do hold myself accountable for the way my post came off.”

Too late, Kevin. Apologies made while in disaster control mode don’t count.

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Commentary Funny and/or Strange Uncategorized

D.A.H.O.F. Spreadsheet Sex Guy

I suppose by now everyone on the internet has heard about the Spreadsheet Guy, which is the downside of having a weekly feature on a blog–some stuff just isn’t going to be timely.  Be that as it may, for those of you still unenlightened, Spreadsheet Guy is the hurt and resentful husband who kept a spreadsheet recording all of the sexual overtures he made to his wife over a couple months, detailing acceptance, rejection, and–in the case of rejections, his wife’s reasoning. He then proceeded to email it to her on her way out of town on a business trip, then refuse to answer her replies. His wife, not to be outdone in the immaturity department, took the matter–and the spreadsheet–to Reddit.com.  It’s really worth looking at this close up.

o-IMGUR-facebook

 

I cannot be too happy about this.  First, it makes my week two DAHoF inductee a no brainer, but it also proves I’m not the most hopelessly obtuse and inconsiderate husband in the world and gives me a belly laugh in the process.

In no way should that be interpreted as approval for the wife’s actions, though I can sympathize. That’s a lot of pestering and whining to put up with.  My question is how did this guy ever decide on “anger and humiliation” as a marital therapy tool?  Of course, I’m even more surprised by the battalion of equally frustrated men who have leapt to this guy’s defense, all but crying out “how dare this woman keep her vagina to herself?!”

Sheesh. Have they all forgotten when we were teenagers and sex was a magical land, carefully and scrupulously guarded, the key to which inspired us to unending quests, humiliating gestures, and most of our pride and limited wealth?  Man, we’d do ANYTHING–at least, I would have–to visit that wondrous land, and yet somehow these guys have gotten to a place where they best they can do is make half-assed passes while their wives are watching old episodes of Friends?  Again: sheesh.  As Bill Cosby used to say: these guys are like a baseball team during a thunderstorm: NO GAME.

I’m not talking about that mysogenist singles-bar pickup bullshit, but regular old relationship maintenance. For the love of god, man: wash the frakking dishes, pal. Run the vaccuum.  Do a load of laundry. Fully half the foreplay I’ve been part of,  over the past 33 years that I’ve been sexually active (is that TMI?) began with a domestic chore–and I’m good at announcing the “man stuff” I do that might otherwise go unnoticed. “I just changed the furnace filter” or “I added a quart of oil to your car and checked the tires–they looked low.”  It amazes me how many men are too dull-witted, or too stubborn, to actually do the things that make their women happy.  Even an old (beloved, admittedly) bumpkin like Waylon Jennings can offer up some valid insight.

So, here’s the thing.  My wife is kind of hot, and I’m regularly asked if I plan to start dressing up as Santa for the poor kids one of these Christmas seasons–I totally have that whole “bowl full of jelly” thing going on, and the last time I was at the Hair Salon the girl who cuts my hair–and knows me away from work as well–asked me if I got the senior discount.  The Senior Discount.  I’m 48.  Mrs. Junk is certainly not into me for looks–although we can’t discount a bit of Stockholm syndrome after more than two decades together, and it’s not my sense of style: some of my clothes are older than my teenage children, but still.  Or my money: I majored in Literature in College, which is actually a negative mark on most job applications, like answering “yes” to the “have you ever been prosecuted” question.

Does my wife loathe the sight of me sometimes?  Yes; quite often, I suppose.  Does she ignore me when I’m muttering about tire pressure and furnace filters?  Almost certainly.  Does she ignore me to the point that I call her out, specifically to hurt her, with attached documentation.  No, because I’m not a dickhead.

Guilt doesn’t make someone want you, and incessant begging and whining and moaning doesn’t make a woman growl like a panther and whisper “Got to have me some of that.”  Folding the napkins does, though.  A lot of guys on that Reddit page would probably tell me it’s reverse sexist to expect the man to dance for his dinner, so to speak, and to them I would boldly demand: “So, what’s your point?”  Women are soft and warm and they smell nice–that’s worth working for.  And, while you’re at it: make a point to tell your woman you love her twice a day, and let her know you think she’s hot just as often–and do it with more than a slap on the ass and a rude suggestion (though, occasionally, if you’re careful, a little lechery can go a long way).