Take it from Snee: Fight terror with terror (and RAM!)

After two weeks, I’m proud to announce that the Rick Snee Antidisestablishmentarian Militia has really taken off. Already, 70 heroes have pledged to defend the entire Second Amendment, unlike the NRA and similar groups.

Which brings us to our first order of business: our name. Personally, I love the name, but it’s a little … how do you say? Long. It’s time to shorten that puppy down into one intimidating abbreviation. After much deliberation and some Harry Potter-inspired nominations, the group’s press name shall be RAM. (The “Snee” is silent.)

Not only is RAM shorter, but it bears double significance as an acronym that lets the nation know that our movement is a ram, beating at the gates of fear-mongering by those who would disarm us. At least until they pour hot oil on us (the use of which we also advocate).

Next up: what issues shall we tackle? After much brainstorming at my think tank (me, Johnny, Jack, Jim and Jose), I’ve realized there’s one thing I hate more than anything else: terrorism. Yes–not to risk going against the grain, but–I hate terrorists, terror and terrifying things in general unless I’m the terrible one.

If it weren’t for terrorists, we wouldn’t have to stand in lines at the airport. Lines to give them our baggage, lines to get in the terminal, lines to sit down and put our shoes back on, lines for random body cavity searches (would they just search me already?!). Lines and terrorism have to go.

And so my collegues and I have devised a plan.

Everyone knows that most violent crimes could be prevented if more people were armed. It is a proven fact that armed crime rates could hypothetically go down if there might be more weapons in the streets, potentially maybe. That’s right: I’m not afraid to use facts.

It’s time for action, and that is why we will lobby the FAA to permit all passengers to carry their constitutionally-protected arms on aircraft. No searches equals no lines. And if all passengers are armed, then terrorists will never be able to carry their weapons on board, thanks to terror. Bingo, terrorism solved. You’re welcome. Our aircraft will become the safest in the world, other than Quantas.

This plan doesn’t just apply to aircraft. Believe it or not, there’s domestic crime, too. The sure-fire way to prevent Americans from maiming each other with weapons is to guarantee their right to carry as many weapons as they want. Could bank robberies happen if anyone could walk in with a gun? Absolutely not. What about at public schools where weapons could be traded like sack lunches? Not on your life. Why live our lives with coulds when we should be living with shoulds?

Terrorism can only be prevented with more terror; armed crime can only be prevented with more arms. And those are arms that the Second Amendment and RAM will fight for.

Take it from Snee: VCDL hampers Second Amendment rights

So I read an article yesterday about some guy bringing his gun to Haborfest in Norfolk, Va. When it turned out he wasn’t a cop and didn’t intend to take his .45 and go home, the police arrested him. Since this is Virginia, the news has been greeted by armed citizens and the Virginia Citizens Defense League, who are arguing for the man’s Second Amendment rights and claim that state carrying laws trump an event’s wish to ban firearms.

I’m not going to argue for or against the man’s arrest. The gun ownership advocates will give that argument greater (or lesser) justice. My argument is against guns rights groups and their half-assed interpretation of the Second Amendment.

If you read the Second Amendment, it grants the right to bear arms–not just guns–in order to maintain a militia. The question is not whether groups like the NRA and the VCDL are endangering the rest of us by handing out guns with mortgages, but why aren’t they fighting to uphold the Second Amendment’s real meaning as the framers intended?

The whole point of the Second Amendment is to allow citizens to form militias to protect all of the other rights in our constitution should any government–foreign or domestic–attempt to take those rights away. Ignoring the fact that any repressive government would repeal the Second Amendment, rendering any gun owner unconstitutional and the NRA and VCDL moot, these arms must deter or combat essentially any standing army, including our own.

(For those already snickering, this isn’t a literal satire advocating the amputation of arms from infants. Jonathan Swift was so-o-o 262 years ago.)

Guns are not enough to stop Army Strong (even if it is an Army of One). Our individual owner’s rights should include all arms for waging war on the United States, including–but not limited to–swords, crossbows, howitzers, tanks, plastic explosives, stealth bombers and tactical nuclear warheads. Anything less would abridge my Second Amendment rights to keep and bear arms for my antidisestablishmentarian militia.

(Now recruiting: the Rick Snee Antidisestablishmentarian Militia. Join our Facebook group!)

Since the NRA and VCDL focus only on guns, I can only make one of two logical assumptions about them: either 1) they’re in the pocket of anti-nukes politicians and special interest groups in order to keep us from uprising, or 2) they can’t read.

The NRA has an out, of course: they’re the National Rifle Association. However, they also advocate private ownership of handguns and shotguns, so my assumptions apply.

The VCDL has no excuse. Virginia’s citizens need every possible arm attainable to once again gloriously uprise against the wussy liberal North. No one wants another embarassing Appomattox because the Antidisestablismentarian Militia didn’t have an adequate missile shield.

It’s time to stop giving groups like the NRA and VCDL any form of legitimacy. They aren’t really fighting for our Second Amendment rights, not completely. They’re just like liberal environmental groups that want to promote hybrid cars for cleaner air, yet let the cows and their methane farts–the real culprits–live. Until they win my right to own my own fully-armed Apache attack helicopter, they’re just hogging the spotlight and accomplishing nothing for the rest of us.

Take it from Snee: Shut up about spoilers

It never fails: for every writer that posts a “spoiler” about a movie or book, there is one jerk to immediately post, “Where’s the spoiler alert???”

(To answer that question, one need only read the link, and immediately above and below the offending article.)

Spoilers don’t exist for the man-children that wait to read a certain book after an all-night book store party with a sorting hat. They exist for those that are more interested in the entire work instead of some usually trite “surprise” ending.

That’s right, I’m defending spoilers and pissing on J.K. Rowling. She’s hyped up an inevitable ending so much that she’s dared people to steal her thunder … and by thunder, I mean the typical ending of any cliche magical world where apparently all the adults are idiots and only children can save them.

Seriously, does anyone get tired of this genre of fantasy? From Peter Pan to The Neverending Story, more stories about children saving fantasy worlds get made every year than all of the Christmas movies combined (not including Christmas movies where children save the North Pole).

So the fans wonder why we spoil the ending for everyone? I’ll retort with why read the spoiler? It’s not forced on you. Hell, it’s usually locked away in the section of the Internet reserved for grown-ups and real users. If you’re such a dedicated fan, why can’t you resist ruining what might sadly be the greatest literary moment of your life?

The truth is that you can’t avoid reading spoilers because you’ve already discussed it to death on your message boards. You need to know if you’re right. And that’s the love-hate relationship with spoilers.

The ongoing argument that is called the Internet would cease to exist tomorrow if all fights were resolved today. I mean, does anyone still visit the Web site for “The Village?” No, because everyone’s seen the movie. Spoilers end arguments, and that’s bad for the Internet.

Spoilers also prove you’re right or wrong. It’s great when you’re right, but how often does that really happen?

And perhaps that’s why fans hate the more pervasive (and hilarious) spoilers: the ones posted on their chat boards. It ends their debates, possibly proves them wrong, and at the very least ruins their book.

But do spoilers really ruin the book? My argument is only if you’ve never read a non-Harry Potter book in your life, which seems to be a common trend. That’s why timing is the essence of this book’s success. Everyone’s reading again, which means they have no clue what other books are like and how much Rowling borrows from them. And it’s okay that she does that, but she’s no genius, nor are her stories thoroughly unique.

To test this, I submit this ending to show just how much Rowling cribs from others. I haven’t read it yet, but I’ll tell you exactly what will happen. Snape will die a hero because you can’t invite the double-agent to family reunions (see the MI-5 Family Handbook). Harry will live, because, well, that’s what he does: he lives. That’s his schtick. Voldemort will die because he’s fighting a child. Anyone else who dies is inconsequential or already dead.

Oh, yeah: SPOILER ALERT.

Take it from Snee: Protest effectively or kindly go home


Environmental protestors struck a blow for clean air by asking others to drive their cars on “Honk If You Hate Smog Day.”
Internet radio stations struck a heavy blow to the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) by broadcasting dead “air” (dead bandwidth, really). The stations are protesting a royalties hike that could effectively drive most Web stations out of business.

In other words, they gave the RIAA a preview of exactly what they want: Internet radio should either pay up or go away–not mad, just away.

This reminds me of a similar protest in the 1970s when women across the nation refused to collect paychecks to protest their income disparity with male coworkers. Instead, they stayed home and baked pies … scorn pies.

In the 1960s, African-Americans also drank from “blacks only” water fountains for a day to protest Jim Crow laws. That same decade also witnessed National Armed Forces Enlistment Day when all of the hippies signed up for infantry duty in Vietnam.

Long before that, teetotalers gave out free whiskey for a day in the 1920s, encouraging Irish and German immigrants to vote for candidates supporting Prohibition. They followed up with a similar event in the 1930s to prevent the repeal of the 18th Amendment.

Even Martin Luther used the same tactic when he encouraged Protestants everywhere to hold masses in Latin a day after posting his infamous theses.

So, of course, National Day of Silence is a good idea. Although, they ripped the name off from gay and lesbian equal rights organizations.

Take it from Snee: Radiation is radical!

Summertime is what movie studios refer to as blockbuster season. That is, when they’re not preoccupied with consuming the blood of virgins on stacks of $10,000 bills. The staple for the summer blockbuster has been superhero flicks. Courageous men and women in tights–the most courageous of outerwear–fight crime and insane Ph.D’s (most likely from universities) while preserving truth, justice and the American way.

When we think of superheroes, superpowers and origins come immediately to mind. In almost every superhero’s case, their super powers come from radiation: The Hulk, Spider-man, Daredevil, the Fantastic Four … the list goes on and on.

Even Superman can credit his superpowers to cancer. Consider this: he is powered by UV rays–much like malignant melanoma–and his superpowers diminish from exposure to the radiation from pieces of his home planet, Krypton. In the medical world, that’s called aggressive treatment. Still doubt it? Most of his radiation treatments are administered by Lex Luthor, a rival of any doctor, even House.

Finally, consider the real-life example of Lance Armstrong. As soon as he got cancer, he started winning simultaneous Tour de France races.

But do the liberal media celebrate their cancer and encourage the rest of us to follow in their footsteps? Emphatically no. They don’t want people to fight for the American way, so they use smear tactics and fear-mongering to keep us away from radiation.

The latest yellow journalism is trying to implicate cell phone radiation as the cause of bee and bird disappearances. The media doesn’t agree with the War on Animals; they wish it would go away so they can get back to their Paris Hilton coverage. Of course they’ll accuse radiation of killing animals. All this really proves is that radiation is–in itself–a superpower, and we need more of it to “disappear” the lions, tigers and bears (oh my!).

They’ve gone further by saying it can kill humans with their latest report on a woman who wears a metal net to save her brain from electromagnetic radiation. This media darling, who we’re calling the Cindy Sheehan of radiation, is supposed to be a sympathetic role model. But would the media say the same if her magic hat was made from tin foil?

Our government, however, has listened to Hollywood, and they have the right idea. Unfortunately, they’ve been giving radiation away for free to other countries since 1945. Write your congressman and ask for–nay, demand–more domestic radiation immediately!

Take it from Snee: Defense experts predict renewed biological attacks

The War on Animals is a complicated affair, sweeping battlefronts large and small. The smallest enemies are, of course, mosquitoes. We’ve fought mosquitoes for over 2,000 years at this point in an ever-escalating biological and chemical weapons arms race.

It wasn’t always this way. We waged the majority of this war using conventional weapons (fly swatters, open-fists, the bug zapper), being the bigger men in spite of mosquito’s preferred biological weapon: itchy venom.

However, once they introduced weaponized malaria into their arsenal, we could no longer fight a reactionary, defensive war. The chemical weapon DDT almost wiped out all malaria-armed units, but we scaled back once we received accusations of war crimes from Rachel Carson.

The war cooled off, returning to defensive tactics and aggravating bumps, but mosquitoes stepped up biological weapon production in 2003 when they unleashed West Nile. And our top defense experts predict another attack any day now.

To date, West Nile has killed six American humans. That’s six too many. The blame-America environmentalists refuse to allow a return to the good old days: the days of DDT and other industrial chemical weapons. They call these weapons cruel and dangerous.

That’s the point, pinkos. We kill enough of them so that they don’t mess with humans. If they didn’t want to vomit up their tiny, burning lungs, then they shouldn’t have started this war. We cannot afford to wait until they strike again–that doesn’t save lives. But preemptive attacks do save lives … well, ours.

… Except for the smaller animals. And children and the elderly. But small animals and children are animals, and this is a War on Animals. Elderly, we’ll miss you, but thank you for voting Republican.

If you do not support the War on Animals, then you are aiding the enemy. And that makes you a traitor.

How To: Unclasp a bra

If there’s any life lesson rarely passed along to children, it’s how to unclasp a bra … with, hopefully, dignity. Since parents don’t realize that kids already get the biological parts explained to them at school and in prison, they often skip the steps leading up to a home run. After all, there are three bases on the way to home plate and you have to touch each bag, and most batters will only reach second during their early careers. In order to fill this gap in your education, the Guys are stepping up to the coach’s corner.

Please note that this How To is not just for guys. We like to think this guide will also be helpful to lesbians and women dating transvestites.

Tools:

  • Hands
  • Teeth
  • Derring-do

Instructions:

1. Locate the clasp of the bra. As sex is a death sport (see our future How To on avoiding the HIV), most of your introductory interaction is face-to-face, so you will need to fumble around the back for the tell-tale signs of a dorsal clasp: (a) an overlapping seam where the two straps meet, and (b) the hooks and latches, typically arrayed in 2 or 3 columns and rows.

If no such apparatuses (apparati?) are found, direct your probe to the front between the cups. If the bra is, indeed, front-clasping, then proceed to step 5.

2. Remember that bras are like Zippo lighters. The more panache you show in opening one, the more deserving you are of what’s inside (in both cases, fire). You must, therefore, attempt it one-handed before moving on to two-handed approaches.

a. Place your choice of index, middle, or both fingers between the clasp and skin.

b. Place your thumb over the clasp.

c. Apply pressure between your thumb and finger(s) and slide your thumb towards the seam. This motion is similar to a snapping motion, only without the embarrassment of looking like an extra from West Side Story.

d. Repeat only once if method fails. The only thing less sexy than ineptitude is persistent ineptitude.

3. Should step 2 fail, then you’ll have to resort to a two-handed method. There’s no shame, so long as you get this on the first try.

a. Grasp the bottom strap near the clasp with your thumb between the strap and skin.

b. Grasp the top strap immediately over the clasp.

c. Test the hooks lightly to make sure you won’t manhandle the operation, bear-hugging the wearer with underwire.

d. Slide the hooks out of the latches.

e. Do not repeat if method fails.

4. If the two-hand method fails, then resort to brute force. Sure, you’ll look like an idiot with a broken bra in your hands, but whoever said that Conan isn’t a stud?

a. Grasp each strap firmly in both hands.

b. Say a brief, private prayer. Wait, no. You’re probably committing a sin, so any prayer will be either ignored or answered with hilarious consequences.

c. Yank for all you’re worth.

d. Present the former wearer with a gift certificate to Victoria’s Secret afterwards. You’re a beast and a financially responsible provider.

5. Should the bra be fastened in the front, please say you didn’t try steps 1-4. If you did and step 4 worked, way to be. Otherwise, fold the bra between the cups inward to towards the wearer’s chest. Slide the interlaced hooks apart in opposing vertical motions.

Congratulations! Assuming this was consensual, you should now be the proud witness of a bare chest. For a how-to regarding third base, consult your local library’s self-help section. Happy belated Mammorial Day!

Take it from Snee: Apes still don’t talk

Once again, scientists are trying to prove apes can talk … by not actually teaching them to talk.

Sure, it’s great that Cornelius can recognize the symbols that give him treats, but that isn’t language. And just because this particular scientist talks to them “like he would speak to one of his children, or a longtime friend” does not mean they are conversing–it means he is on par with every cat lady in the world.

Of course Bonzo understands you, doc. It’s like he really listens and doesn’t just wait for you to stop talking so he can say whatever is on his mind. But that’s only because he can’t say what’s on his mind, which is probably just as well (“I want to masturbate again!”).

If language were merely correct vocabulary, we still could not communicate ideas to each other. Koko may have a tummy ache, but she can’t ask you if that diaper makes her look fat. Get the difference, yet?

Even this writer’s “interview with an ape” reads like someone explaining how Terry Schiavo was a functional human being, equating blinks as real communication. It started with the usual vocab test, then the reporter was stunned that the ape pressed the “surprise!” button when she was ready for food. This wasn’t language: it was the ape’s button for a hand-out. Get a job, Kanzi!

And perhaps that is why we strive to teach animals how to talk, in hope that someone will finally listen to us without argument. Take it from me: it’s like teaching a pig how to dance. It tires out the farmer and pisses off the pig.