Chelsea Handler is a moron.
I didn’t even know who this daft bint was until she saw it fit to rudely ridicule Melania Trump’s foreign accent in January. Handler, you see, doesn’t like 45 too much, and even helped lead a women’s march in Utah after his inauguration. OK, he’s not for everyone. I get that.
But this dried up hag went a step further when asked if she would ever have the First Lady on her show. “To talk about what? She can barely speak English.”
For the record, Melania Trump was born in Slovenia, and speaks Slovenian, English, French, Serbian and German. I wonder how many languages Chelsea Handler can speak – other than retard.
Apparently, only English, and even that is lacking, judging from her tweet about Eric Trump’s announcement that he and his wife are expecting their first baby.
Those jeans! Those terrible jeans! Let’s hope they’re not the mom jeans with the plastic panels on the knees, because those are horrible!
I shouldn’t be surprised at the ignorance of this screeching slag, I suppose. It does bother me, as an immigrant, as someone who speaks multiple languages, and someone who obviously has better command of the English language than this Handler knobgobbler, that she would stoop so low as to ridicule someone whose first language is something other than English, and who obviously is more educated and accomplished than this sow, as something less than literate.
My mom has an engineering degree. She speaks Russian, English, and Ukrainian. She does have an accent, and she is embarrassed by it – so much, that she will still ask me to make phone calls for her when I’m around, even though she’s lived in this country since 1980, and even though her English is just fine. My dad has two Masters degrees in engineering, and has spent his life working his way up after coming to this country with practically no English. He also speaks Russian, Polish, Yiddish, some French, some German, and Ukrainian. Handler has a high school diploma, sucked copious amounts of cock to get where she is, and is now using her significant soapbox to malign immigrants who happen to be married to a President she doesn’t like and said President’s children. People like Handler are part of the reason why making a simple phone call stresses my mom out. I find Handler’s comments particularly galling, given the fact that her own mother was a German immigrant.
As a kid, I was particularly scared to go to school each day, because I was the only Russian-speaking immigrant in the class, because my English was crap, and because my classmates knew very little about the Cold War other than “Russia is bad.” I couldn’t communicate with them. They didn’t understand why I wore the same clothes every day, why I brought only a meager lunch to school with me, why we couldn’t afford the candy and chips they all gobbled at lunchtime, and why the teacher, for the most part, ignored me, even when I knew the answer to a question she posed, mostly by muscling through the work and trying to understand it through context.
To make matters worse after tweeting about Eric Trump’s jeans, and proving herself to be not quite as dumb as a box of hammers and not nearly as useful, the nitwit doubled down on showing just how much of an imbecile she is by blaming her apparent drug use for the spelling error.
Apparently correct language usage goes out the window when what’s left of one’s grey matter is addled by the wacky tobacky, as does one’s sense of decency.
Weed is apparently not a new thing for Handler, who a year or so ago got stoned for her Netflix documentary series “Chelsea Does.” Because apparently drugs are just “fun to do,” says the celebutard bimbo. “I want to show people what happens when you get fucked ed-up.”
Well, here’s what happens. You get stoned, you get the munchies, you can’t find any stale Doritos in your pad, you grab some kitty litter and eat that, washing it down with some cheap vodka, and then you tweet at the President’s son, while mangling the English language, while conveniently forgetting that you denigrated the First Lady – an immigrant, which is a class of people whom you ostensibly support, and which includes your own mom – for her apparently poor English skills, and you get ridiculed.
First, I apologize for the hiatus. Had some medical stuff to take care of, as well as some work stuff, as well as some home stuff, as well as naps. Because naps are way more important than any other… stuff. So naps.
I have been following the news, though, and I have to say that certain elements on both the right and the left seem to be
angling demanding screaming for fomenting an actual war.
First there was an article in Foreign Policy magazine by a Rosa Brooks, who back in April 2016 wrote for the magazine that Trump actually was formulating a pretty coherent foreign policy. Recently she penned a screed discussing ways we could get rid of 45 that includes a… military coup. Um.
What would top U.S. military leaders do if given an order that struck them as not merely ill-advised, but dangerously unhinged? An order that wasn’t along the lines of “Prepare a plan to invade Iraq if Congress authorizes it based on questionable intelligence,” but “Prepare to invade Mexico tomorrow!” or “Start rounding up Muslim Americans and sending them to Guantánamo!” or “I’m going to teach China a lesson — with nukes!”
It’s impossible to say, of course. The prospect of American military leaders responding to a presidential order with open defiance is frightening — but so, too, is the prospect of military obedience to an insane order. After all, military officers swear to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, not the president. For the first time in my life, I can imagine plausible scenarios in which senior military officials might simply tell the president: “No, sir. We’re not doing that,” to thunderous applause from the New York Times editorial board.
Now, I discussed this in a previous rant during the primaries after he claimed that because he’s oh-so-cool, military commanders would just fall in line and obey his orders, and target civilians for extermination, no matter how illegal.
The UCMJ states very specifically that members of the military must follow lawful orders.
I remember very clearly sitting in the bay in Basic Training and discussing lawful versus unlawful orders. I remember the Drill Sergeants specifically telling us that not only must we refuse to obey an unlawful order, but we could be legally prosecuted for doing so! I would say murdering civilians kind of qualifies.
The “I was only following orders” defense didn’t work for Nazi assholes, and they won’t work in this country either.
But a military coup? That’s a whole lotta different from disobeying an unlawful order.
Of course, the unhinged leftist celebricunts didn’t let that stop them. After either having read the piece (doubtful, since most of them would need a thesaurus and additional brain cells to comprehend it), or just come up with the bright idea after a night of snorting Lithium ground up with paint chips, and sipping Drano, they are insanely claiming that the military would stand with them in a military coup against Trump.
I. Shit. You. Not.
The amazing lack of self awareness from a crowd that is too cowardly to defend themselves with a firearm, and promotes citizen disarmament writ large, claiming that men and women with guns will stand up with them to promote their unhinged agenda would be hilarious, if it wasn’t sadly delusional.
Such deranged retards include the always entertaining (in the sheer lunacy of her statements) Sarah Silverman, and the sputtering, spewing, frothing, former Minnesota Vikings punter and current DERP! potato Chris Kluwe(less).
While I appreciated Kluwe(less)’s ardent defense of marriage equality and gay rights (after all, even a blind squirrel can find a nut sometimes, and in this case, the squirrel and the nut are one and the same), his moronic social justice bleating and this current claims of somehow being an “expert” at combat (no, the armed forces do not use the Glock 17 – as a matter of fact Sig Sauer just beat out Glock, FN America, and Beretta – the maker of the current M9 service pistol – in the competition to become the military’s handgun), make him less than competent to comment on current or potential combat situations. Video games and kicking a football =\= real life combat, you pugnacious fucktard. And encouraging your frothing buddies to loot gun stores and armories will only get them killed.
And then, there were the fires, looting, and riots at Berkeley.
Why? Because the special snowflakes couldn’t possibly allow someone with whom they disagree to have the opportunity to speak. Home of the free speech movement, indeed. It’s more like a bowel movement nowadays. This caused the Trump Administration to threaten to cut off funds to Bezerkeley, and rightfully so. I’m a taxpayer, and so is every individual who holds views that differing views from the howling psychopaths who set property on fire in order to silence a speaker whom they dislike. And personally, I don’t want my tax dollars used to fund suppression of free speech. I’m fairly sure others don’t either. If Bezerkeley insists on doing so, they don’t need my hard earned dollars.
Rep. Barbara Lee (D-Calif.) on Thursday released a statement calling the president’s apparent threat an “abuse of power.”
“President Donald Trump cannot bully our university into silence. Simply put, President Trump’s empty threat to cut funding from UC Berkeley is an abuse of power,” she said in the statement.
So Trump can’t “bully” the university into ostensible silence by withholding federal money that belongs to all taxpayers, but the university can use federal money that belongs to all taxpayers to bully an invited guest into silence? Is that the way it works, you dried up, hypocritical hag? You want our money to fund your tyrannical tactics, and if we threaten to pull our funds, you call it bullying?
Yeah, how about you go get fucked by a rabid wildebeest, MKAY?
The university claims that masked agitators came onto campus and began throwing Molotov cocktails and rocks, and interrupting a protest.
Yeah, I sure believe that one. Pull the other one, will ya?
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter who the agitators were. They were there to start a war. They were there to instigate violence. Just like these celebricunts are doing (from the relative safety of their gated communities, of course). Just like the jackwagons who decided a Bank of America and a Starbucks were cool (and easy) targets in DC to vandalize.
You want a war, cupcakes? You won’t like the outcome. That’s a promise. We are better trained, better prepared, and better qualified to kick your hairy, unwashed, pussy hat-wearing asses than you and your mewling band of paintball buddies.
Shut up and sit down before you hurt yourselves.
Some screeching, cunt-chafed harridan at Salon recently took to the Interwebz to shrewsplain to us why celebrities making paella in the wrong dish is apparently cultural appropriation. Mireia Triguero Roura sniffily tells us that while we were enjoying “unnecessarily gigantic meals” in our homes over the holidays (because she and her band of unshaven, rainbow-haired, perpetually offended harpies are ultimately the arbiters of what is necessary and what isn’t in other people’s lives), actor Rob Schneider was committing an act of nefarious cultural appropriation against Spain in his own home.
Spaniards were outraged. Some replied with angry, insulting tweets. Many sent pictures of their own paellas as inspiration. Others created fake, outrageous variations on the classic hot dog. A Spanish chef kindly took it upon himself to show the American actor what paella is and what it isn’t. For some hours, this became a trending topic in some regions in Spain. Schneider finally apologized and vowed to try to make it again, with all the new paella knowledge forced on to him through social media.
Massive raw lobster tails aside, Spaniards were reacting to what they felt was cultural appropriation of their cuisine.
Spaniards are certainly very proud of their cuisine, and we can be regionalists to a fault. No two towns can fully agree on what exactly you need to put in a paella. Some argue that onions give it the better flavor, but many will say that there is no place for them in the dish. Some take their issue with peas and fava beans, and others have unearthed family recipes going back to the 19th century to show that snails have a place on the rice. But small battles aside, there’s one thing everyone can agree on, and that is that one must cook paella in, well, a paella pan.
That’s right. Rob Schneider insensitively put stuff that he likes in his paella – in his own home – using the WRONG. FUCKING. PAN. – using ingredients he liked – and Spaniards lost their collective shit. Perhaps they should worry more about their abominable more than 18 percent unemployment rate, rather than soil themselves on Twitter because some celebrity posted a picture of his dinner, but that’s none of my business.
But then we have this Mireia Triguero Roura explaining just why it’s so offensive to cook what you want and how you want it in your own home, and I have to once again point to the fact that this cultural appropriation and perpetual offense garbage has jumped the shark. Hard.
The shallow and wide pan, with two handles in opposite sides, gives the name to this rice dish. And to some extent any rice dish cooked on such pan could qualify to be a paella. So even if we take this very low bar for defining paella, Schneider’s dish failed the test. As a twitter user pointed out he just made “rice with things,” or perhaps more accurately, things with rice.
Well… technically, that’s what paella is – rice with things. There’s vegetable paella. There’s seafood paella. There’s chicken paella, meat paella, mixed paella, you name it! There are also green beans, artichokes, and peppers – all depends on how you want to make it. So yeah – it’s rice with things, no matter how much snobbery you want to inject into your criticism.
To Schneider’s credit, where could he have turned to for a paella recipe that wouldn’t have infuriated most Spaniards? Just a few months ago, the famous chef Jamie Oliver failed the paella test again when he proposed a recipe that not only was again not made in the proper pan, but it also added something no Spaniard has ever seen in paella: chorizo. Just like Schneider, Oliver received his fair share of criticism on social media, and even newspapers reported the story as some outrageous insult to Spanish culture.
And why should Schneider give a shit if something he makes in his own home, for his friends and family, that he will consume “infuriates” anyone? Is he trying to sell it? No. Is he a chef in a Spanish restaurant? No. He’s a celebrity who posted a picture of his fucking dinner. Get over yourselves.
But unlike Schneider, Oliver is a chef, and a widely recognized one. So people will turn to him for advice. What are a celebrity chef’s responsibilities when writing a recipe for a dish that hails from a different cultural tradition than their own? How much should they stay close to the original dish and how much room do they have to be as creative as they want to be?
A chef is an artist with food. His only responsibility is to his customers, who will either love or hate his dish. He certainly has no responsibility to ask permission from the perpetually aggrieved about how he chooses to create. If they don’t like it, you know what they can do? Not spend money in his restaurant. Not buy the dish.
Did the Moors in ancient Spain, who began cultivating rice around the 10th century ask the Chinese in the Pearl River valley region who originated rice for permission to cultivate rice and use it in their dishes how they wished?
Did the Spaniards, who imported pepper seeds from Mexico in the 15th century ask them for permission to use them in their national dishes?
Saffron, a common spice in paella, is native to Southwest Asia and was likely cultivated in or near Greece. I don’t see the Greeks flinging “cultural appropriation” turds at the Spaniards for using that particular spice in their paella.
Food evolves, much like other art. Chefs explore new flavors, new spices, and new ingredients to make tasty dishes that stand out to their customers. Countries import various fruits, vegetables, and spices, and create new, interesting, innovative meals that vary with each individual palettes.
I’m guessing Mireia Triguero Roura is not that adventurous, nor is she open minded enough to understand diversity in that context, because when faced with a lack of things to be outraged about, these nags must dig deep to keep the indignation alive.
And she admits it.
It is hard to talk about cultural appropriation in food. For one, most cuisines have been developed as a result of the influences of many peoples, and hail from particular territories rather than countries.
Then perhaps she should stop talking about cultural appropriation in food. But no, she wastes many more paragraphs doing just that in the most inane, imbecilic manner!
A quick browse through the big food magazines in English reveals that virtually all have at least one paella recipe that includes chorizo—and most include other big no-nos among paella chefs. But most of them fail to mention that “chorizo” cannot be found in the dish in Spain. And in fact, most Spaniards felt even disgusted by the thought of it.
So what? Does that mean that others aren’t free to enjoy chorizo in their paella? Normal people just let others enjoy what they like, as long as it doesn’t infringe on their right to do the same. But apparently certain Special Snowflakes™ in Spain are unable to allow others to simply enjoy their own creations, so they have to destroy everyone else’s happiness, because it’s the only way they can validate their sad existences.
And yet if the nature of paella changes regionally inside Spain (even inside Valencia region), why should we allow those discrepancies only inside the borders of Spain? Shouldn’t we embrace, as David Rosengarten suggested in a Saveur article, the “changing nature of the dish” and “focus on the singular pleasure of eating it” instead? One could argue it should be a source of pride to see your cuisine become a source of inspiration for many around the world.
Unless one is a pretentious fuck weasel, in which case one writes entire articles waxing hysterical about “cultural appropriation.”
But at the heart of Spaniards’ battle to keep chorizo out of paellas around the world is the sense of protecting a sacred identity.
Sacred identity? What sort of fuckery is this? It’s food, ferpetessake! It’s rice mixed with olive oil, some veggies, spices, and proteins! It’s not like it came out of the Virgin Mary’s untapped asshole. It’s FOOD! Get over yourselves!
Earlier this year at Oberlin College, some students protested against a coleslaw and pulled-pork sandwich that was being sold under the name “banh mi,” which is a Vietnamese sandwich consisting of none of those ingredients.
Well, color me shocked! Oberlin students – the mental institution that spawned the feminazi, child molesting landwhale Lena Dunham – are protesting something?
Take, however, two of the big immigrant cuisines in the U.S.: Mexican and Italian. Arguably, tacos ordered in Texas are quite different from a carnitas taco found in Jalisco. And “marinara” sauce in the United States has come to mean a whole different world from the original Italian word. But unlike Mexican-American and Italian-American food in the U.S., which are the result of large populations of immigrants settling in the country and bringing with them their food and recipes and adapting both to the ingredients and the palates of the land, the chorizo-paella (or the Oberlin “banh mi”) seems rather the result of non-Spanish chefs in a test kitchen deciding what belongs in a dish with what seems like little research or respect to the country of origin. And unlike most creations that are a result of culinary cross-pollination (think: the ramen burger), no one is changing the name to suggest this is a new creation. (I suggest we call this “choriella” from “chorizo” and “paella”).
So ultimately, what Mireia Triguero Roura is offended by is the word “paella.” Just like any other Special Snowflake™ she just haz teh sadz that someone has the temerity to use a word with which she disagrees to describe something as basic as food, made by someone other than she and her band of perpetually aggrieved shrews find acceptable, and therefore, since her delicate labia are bruised by mere words, she can’t help but publicly shame them for it. Nagging – it’s like Vagisil for the SJW soul.
Krishnendu Ray, a New York University professor of food studies, argues in “The Ethnic Restaurateur” that white chefs have more freedom to play with other people’s food than chefs of color do, which creates an inherent inequality in the field. To that, I would add that in a world where most people turn to the Internet to find recipes — and English is the de facto lingua franca of the online world — English-speaking chefs not only have more freedom to play around, but they also have the power to ultimately transform traditional dishes from other countries, without so much as an acknowledgement.
And of course, no Salon article would be complete without quoting some obscure, perpetually victimized “professor” of food studies, claiming “white privilege,” to give the drivel what passes for gravitas in the world of the culture jihadists.
Cultural appropriation? Check.
White privilege? Check.
Ah! The recipe for progtard butthurt is complete!
Now, go enjoy your paella, heathens! Add some corn, tuna, and mayonnaise to it, and microwave it on high. And don’t forget to post a photo on Twitter and brag about your paella attempt, to really give this squealing nag something to gripe about!
Carrie Fisher was not a hero.
There. I said it.
She was a wonderful actress and a talented woman. She was strong and unfiltered. She was unafraid and funny. She was a cinematic and science fiction icon. She was born into what amounts to Hollywood royalty (for those of you who don’t know, Debbie Reynolds – THE Debbie Reynolds – was her mom, and Eddie Fisher was her dad), and she reaped the benefits.
I loved her in “Star Wars.” I loved her in “When Harry Met Sally.”
I grieve for her family and friends, who have lost a loved one. No one should have to bury a child.
I grieve for cinema and for entertainment writ large.
But a hero? No.
She was a human being – a flawed one. She admitted to have had drug problems in her youth. Drugs take their toll on one’s body, as does alcohol. It’s tragic, but there it is.
By the way, at least 14 U.S. service members died this year during Operation Enduring Freedom alone. These are heroes, in case you wondered.
My social media feed for the past two days has been filled with tributes and memories. Many were touching. Many detailed the impact Princess Leia’s character had on a generation of girls. These are beautiful, no doubt. I understand the inspiration Princess Leia became for so many women out there, who looked to her as a beacon of independence, strength, and willfulness.
I can’t speak for all little girls, but I know that most – myself included – connected with Star Wars because of Leia; here was a girl who was in the thick of it with the boys, who wasn’t overtly sexualized (with one exception*) and didn’t need anyone to protect her. She wasn’t an accessory, and her princess label defied the Disney/fairy tale stereotype. She wasn’t waiting for a prince. The fact that she falls for Han Solo speaks to her feisty independence – he’s not interested in sweeping Leia off her feet or rescuing her.
It’s true, but aside from Carrie Fisher’s superb acting talent, this is also a testimonial to the outstanding writing and cinematography team that created the Star Wars movies.
I’m not sure why it is that we tend to idolize celebrities as we do. They’re human beings – talented ones, and sometimes very flawed, but human beings nonetheless. Their deaths, while tragic for their loved ones, will not change the course of the world.
Any time a celebrity died this year, my social media feeds exploded with memes, grief, and tributes. Alan Rickman… George Michael… Prince… David Bowie… Gene Wilder… Muhammad Ali… Anton Yelchin… Elie Wiesel… Garry Marshall… Leonard Cohen… Florence Henderson… Alan Rickman… just to name a few, were lost to us this year.
These talented, beautiful people are a great loss to music, the arts, cinema, and culture writ large. I grieve for their families and the loss of their gifts to the world.
And every time one died, it was major news all over the web. Tributes, speculations about causes of death, inevitable memes and graphics, and teary farewells dominated the news cycle, even as wars, carnage, and bloodshed raged elsewhere in the world.
(I will say I did not partake in the tear fest, neither here, nor on social media. It’s not because I’m callous in some way, but because people die – whether in tragic car accidents, from cancer, from prolonged drug use, or just old age. My sole exception was a tribute to Hugh O’Brian, because of the indelible effect he had on my life and my development as a human being, and I do recognize that these artists, producers, etc. may have had a similar effect on others, so I’m not bashing others too, too hard on this issue. And at risk of sounding like a concern troll, I’m also disappointed in many of my friends, who are gleefully hoping for the deaths of the likes of the President, the President-elect, Hillary Clinton, and other politicians they don’t like, since 2016 seems to be on a roll. I’ll be the first to admit I won’t shed tears if Nancy Pelosi bit the big one in the next few days. Hell, I didn’t when John Murtha croaked, but to gleefully wish for death of politicians whom you don’t like, or with whom you disagree… it’s a bit much.)
So yes, I realize I’m committing science fiction blasphemy by writing this post the day after Carrie Fisher’s death, but I felt it needed to be written.