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Thursday, April 12, 2007
First, let me apologize to you, the reader (or readers, if any of "you people" gather in groups to peruse my postings, and if not why not and if so my deepest gratitude to each of you and my infinite sorrowful regret for beshitting that sacred trust) of SPORT SPEIL, to the blogosphere and its denizens, Blogspot in particular, by extension -- due to my presence there -- MySpace, Optonline, the entire World Wide Web and any and all participants in the varied realms of human thought and discourse.
I apologize for my last posting: "Nappy Ho! Nappy Ho!" -- an ill-considered and repugnant outburst of hateful, repellent badness which, by its very nature repugs and repugns all that I have correctly and wisely been taught to think, say, make and do by all those whose very presence in my life represents and / or represented a standard of decency and righteousness and whose example I have so dismally rejected, in fact if not in intent, through my callous and poorly-cogitated attempt at "humor" which is in no way funny or good or right and should be condemned and rejected by all whose rigorous adherence to accepted modes of proper thought and expression sets a standard that I have obviously, miserably failed to reach. I should be de-balled and shit-whipped for my insubordinate bellicosity and abject slime-fuckery.
If anything good comes of my unprecedentedly heinous act of malicious wrongness, it is the hope that a dialogue will be established, wherein we can discuss these issues in an atmosphere of mutual respect for the correct position. If we can agree on which way to best condemn and chastise me, this at least is a beginning... from there we can conversate more fully and fairly until the scourge of my rank, odious opinions is eradicated from the consciousness and memory of all concerned, which is, after all, all of us, myself excluded, as banishment is only too good for the likes of me. Let it be understood that nothing in my cowardly and ignorant characterization of Mr Ho reflects any kernel of the truth of even my own admittedly malformed and stankadapted opinions. Far be it.
In fact, I have been a supporter and fan of Don Ho and all his (or "her" in case the artist has had trans gender reassignment surgery, which I have no reason to assume is the case, but certainly have no right to pompously assume is not the case neither, just in case) efforts and achievements in the field of entertainment and the wider world of higher homosapient endeavor. As a person of non-color attempting to actuate and maintain a level of transparency, it has been instructive and even behooving to learn of the hopes and dreams, the varied rainbow mosaic of ambitions and accomplishments that Don Ho and his work, and in a very real and somehow related sense all the work of persons of Polynesian descent (or ascent, if you prefer to eschew the downward implication of "descent" -- and its inescapable whitemotherfucker codeword implications of "decent" or mediocre - and any and all other linguistic hodadly turdballs hurled at the Pacific Peoples by the hegemonic and grimly awful, deeply fucked euro-bastard patriarchal reich) um... represent. In overlooking this, I've become that which I hate, and so I hate the thing I've become: myself... and I agree that I should be flayed, salted and left to the fire ants despite my sincere and deeply felt apologies, which are I admit too little too late and inadequate in addressing my culpability in this most egregious of horrific offenses, for which I accept full responsibility and about which even I "tsk tsk" myself behind my own back, and if you think that's easy, try it. Not that I deserve an "easy out" for not only downratcheting the perceived value and dignity of the "Tiny Bubbles" hitmaker but overlooking such cultural edifii that my early referencing scarcely hints at. Dig:
Poi.
The Ukelele.
The Grass Skirt.
Surfing Itself.
"Dog" the Bounty Hunter.
Macadamia Brittle.
Fish with names so long and glottally taxing that one is liable to sprain his or her tongue before completing the sentence "please pass the Humahumanookanookawaha... URK!"
These and so many other contributions need not even be mentioned, but they cry out to be said. Not in a Hectoring, didactic caucasio-bastidge way but in a soft, low murmur redolent of supplication and prostrate repentance. For it is only by understanding these monumental pancultural offerings that we can truly grasp our heretofore and hitherto slavish, unconscious reliance upon -- and implicit support -- of such limited, purblind and reactionary blancobsessive concepts as
The Stratocaster.
The Cardigan.
Golf itself.
"Dog" the Bounty Hunter.
Cheez Waffies.
Bigmouth Billy Bass.
What fools we crackers be! And how profoundly we have cheated ourselves of the richness of this vast resource of proud other-than-whitemalestraightness, which we have nonetheless exploited with little regard for consequences, inherent responsibilities, corrective perspectivication and all-'round "mmm-mmm goodness." We, and I do mean me, deserve nothing less than the full extent of the wrath of those to whom is entrusted the demand for justice by those countless and nameless victims of the agenda of unicultural bepenised aryonassic ur-domination, whose silent voices shout inaudibly (but no less eloquently) for the justice so brutally and longly denied them for so many long, brutal centuries of convenient denial. With this in mind I beg you to split my backbone with a fire axe and root through my belongings as I bleed to death ignominiously in the just agonies of my richly-deserved final throes of fatal payback, and I entreat you to laugh scornfully even as my dying breath utters the from-the-bottom-of-my-heart "I'm sorry.. so sorry..." the very least that my sorry ass owes you, and by -- it can not be emphasized enough -- all others to whom justice is more than just a word and a tip of the "cowboy hat" of oppressive condescension.
This will not end here. I will continue to post elaborate apologies until I receive official word that my contrition is accepted as sufficient (as if it could ever be), at which point I will leap off the Empire State building wearing a sign reading: "I continue to be REAAAALLLLY fucking sorry!" I fully expect all right-thinking persons to take that opportunity to urinate on my shattered, splattered but no less penitent corpse.
I'm sorry-
Sport
I apologize for my last posting: "Nappy Ho! Nappy Ho!" -- an ill-considered and repugnant outburst of hateful, repellent badness which, by its very nature repugs and repugns all that I have correctly and wisely been taught to think, say, make and do by all those whose very presence in my life represents and / or represented a standard of decency and righteousness and whose example I have so dismally rejected, in fact if not in intent, through my callous and poorly-cogitated attempt at "humor" which is in no way funny or good or right and should be condemned and rejected by all whose rigorous adherence to accepted modes of proper thought and expression sets a standard that I have obviously, miserably failed to reach. I should be de-balled and shit-whipped for my insubordinate bellicosity and abject slime-fuckery.
If anything good comes of my unprecedentedly heinous act of malicious wrongness, it is the hope that a dialogue will be established, wherein we can discuss these issues in an atmosphere of mutual respect for the correct position. If we can agree on which way to best condemn and chastise me, this at least is a beginning... from there we can conversate more fully and fairly until the scourge of my rank, odious opinions is eradicated from the consciousness and memory of all concerned, which is, after all, all of us, myself excluded, as banishment is only too good for the likes of me. Let it be understood that nothing in my cowardly and ignorant characterization of Mr Ho reflects any kernel of the truth of even my own admittedly malformed and stankadapted opinions. Far be it.
In fact, I have been a supporter and fan of Don Ho and all his (or "her" in case the artist has had trans gender reassignment surgery, which I have no reason to assume is the case, but certainly have no right to pompously assume is not the case neither, just in case) efforts and achievements in the field of entertainment and the wider world of higher homosapient endeavor. As a person of non-color attempting to actuate and maintain a level of transparency, it has been instructive and even behooving to learn of the hopes and dreams, the varied rainbow mosaic of ambitions and accomplishments that Don Ho and his work, and in a very real and somehow related sense all the work of persons of Polynesian descent (or ascent, if you prefer to eschew the downward implication of "descent" -- and its inescapable whitemotherfucker codeword implications of "decent" or mediocre - and any and all other linguistic hodadly turdballs hurled at the Pacific Peoples by the hegemonic and grimly awful, deeply fucked euro-bastard patriarchal reich) um... represent. In overlooking this, I've become that which I hate, and so I hate the thing I've become: myself... and I agree that I should be flayed, salted and left to the fire ants despite my sincere and deeply felt apologies, which are I admit too little too late and inadequate in addressing my culpability in this most egregious of horrific offenses, for which I accept full responsibility and about which even I "tsk tsk" myself behind my own back, and if you think that's easy, try it. Not that I deserve an "easy out" for not only downratcheting the perceived value and dignity of the "Tiny Bubbles" hitmaker but overlooking such cultural edifii that my early referencing scarcely hints at. Dig:
Poi.
The Ukelele.
The Grass Skirt.
Surfing Itself.
"Dog" the Bounty Hunter.
Macadamia Brittle.
Fish with names so long and glottally taxing that one is liable to sprain his or her tongue before completing the sentence "please pass the Humahumanookanookawaha... URK!"
These and so many other contributions need not even be mentioned, but they cry out to be said. Not in a Hectoring, didactic caucasio-bastidge way but in a soft, low murmur redolent of supplication and prostrate repentance. For it is only by understanding these monumental pancultural offerings that we can truly grasp our heretofore and hitherto slavish, unconscious reliance upon -- and implicit support -- of such limited, purblind and reactionary blancobsessive concepts as
The Stratocaster.
The Cardigan.
Golf itself.
"Dog" the Bounty Hunter.
Cheez Waffies.
Bigmouth Billy Bass.
What fools we crackers be! And how profoundly we have cheated ourselves of the richness of this vast resource of proud other-than-whitemalestraightness, which we have nonetheless exploited with little regard for consequences, inherent responsibilities, corrective perspectivication and all-'round "mmm-mmm goodness." We, and I do mean me, deserve nothing less than the full extent of the wrath of those to whom is entrusted the demand for justice by those countless and nameless victims of the agenda of unicultural bepenised aryonassic ur-domination, whose silent voices shout inaudibly (but no less eloquently) for the justice so brutally and longly denied them for so many long, brutal centuries of convenient denial. With this in mind I beg you to split my backbone with a fire axe and root through my belongings as I bleed to death ignominiously in the just agonies of my richly-deserved final throes of fatal payback, and I entreat you to laugh scornfully even as my dying breath utters the from-the-bottom-of-my-heart "I'm sorry.. so sorry..." the very least that my sorry ass owes you, and by -- it can not be emphasized enough -- all others to whom justice is more than just a word and a tip of the "cowboy hat" of oppressive condescension.
This will not end here. I will continue to post elaborate apologies until I receive official word that my contrition is accepted as sufficient (as if it could ever be), at which point I will leap off the Empire State building wearing a sign reading: "I continue to be REAAAALLLLY fucking sorry!" I fully expect all right-thinking persons to take that opportunity to urinate on my shattered, splattered but no less penitent corpse.
I'm sorry-
Sport
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