Viciousbaglady's Open Salon Blog

Nuke North Korea Now!

Sat, 30 May 2009 17:05:03 -0400

I'm an old fashioned Cold War Liberal. Isolate the bad guys and garner the good ones. In this case we should take North Korea at its word. If it is threatening military action and war, then we should take them at their words. It is not and connot ever be in our rational self-interest to take a wait-and-see-attitude. Thugs cannot be given the benfit of the doubt. If a godammed rapist or mugger says he was going to take action would any self-respecting rational person wait to be raped or mugged, or just stand there and wait and sees what happens? Hell No!

We cannot and should not spare them the consequences of their actions. And yes, making a threat does constitute an action. When the enemy takes advantage of your good will and your rationality and use them against you then your goodness is being used as a weapon against you. Anyone who allows his or her goodness to be used as a weapon against him is acting like a self-hating altruist. It means that you place greater premium on the words of the evil thug than you do against your own rational mind and goodwill.

What do we do?

We Nuke them. Plain and simple. America cannot stand by and adopt a wait-and-see attitude. That's called waiting for a catastrophe to happen.

Nuke them. Level the whole goddamned country. THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS AS CIVILIANS IN A WAR OF THIS NATURE. All of North Korea is responsible for that disgusting dictatorship. Most of the decent soldiers would have defected if given the chance. Let us do what we should have done with the Taliban: Eliminate them from the face of the earth. The casualities of war are worth the devastating price that will be paid if that country engages in nuclear war. We can act before it is too late. This is a moral imperative.

From my Friend Salon Blogger: Pondi Road

Let China carry the baton..it is scarier for them than us and we are shown to be weak (we LOST 2 wars recently and we cannot even control Netenyahu who we give $$$ to)… China can carry the baton as the irrational giant…

I always go back to 9/11 and think that on 9/12 we should have started bombing arab cities one at a time until Bin Laden was handed over..and when he was we should then apologized profusely and sent lots of aid money..a quick irrational reaction..our position would be vey different today..now we just look incompetent and no one takes us seriously…in fact we should have given 5 days warning to give all travelling Americans time to get out..and then on 9/16 the carpet bombing would start—my guess is after the first city was bombed—bid laden would have been handed over…

And today North Korea would NOT DARE to thumb their nose at us..because everyone would know we had a CRAZY streak …

Viciousbaglady says: I say Nuke the basstards

What to Do About North Korea? Nuke Them!

Sat, 30 May 2009 00:05:18 -0400

What do we do?

We Nuke them. Plain and simple. America cannot stand by and adopt a wait-and-see attitude. That's called waiting for a catastrophe to happen.

Fuck You Too Mungular: Get Off OS NOW!

Sun, 11 Jan 2009 18:01:37 -0500

Dear Mungular:

Okay you stupid bitch. Get the fuck out of here. If I see another one of your posts, I am going to bitch slap you--in the face and on the ass. You are a non-talented piece of worthless crap. You whore your way into intimacy by using the fuck word and by exploiting OS' name. You cannot write. You cannot even think your way out of a bad orgasm, and you have no creativity at all. Why these OS folks are showering you with so much love I do not know. You're a loser and you're ensnaring them with your pathetic cry of the heart. You're a vulnerable weak, little passive aggressive broad. Do you have a college education? You write like you're in heat. I have four terriers. Want one? Listen, honey, take some advice from viciousbaglady: Get laid. Lay off of Greg also--he's mine. Yeah we all know you have a bigtime crush on him. Learn to write and express yourself clearly and then you might get legit attention.

Poisonous Womb: Ode to My Dead Baby and For Mary. K

Sun, 4 Jan 2009 17:01:37 -0500

Five Months I carried you in that
Awkward Space.
Some metaphysical wonderland below my navel but
Close to my narrow backside.
For Five months I watched you grow,
Felt your insomniac tug at 4a.m.
While sweet daddy snored

And it is true
It was just you and me—
Me a mad talking, talking madwoman
And my unborn mate
Plotting together you and I,
At 4.a.m
The fate that somehow I knew you’d
Grow to fit like a glove
The way your daddy fit inside me
Like an old run-down lock stuck on a brand new key.

Good God the things I know you know:
The songs; words; unspoken thoughts; fears and the dreams
Me and my kin hurled like cursed blessings
In the sacred dimensions of that space.
And in those moments you did not move,
But lay like a floating golf ball
That would not even budge for Mother’s calls.

Oh, little Atlas how you bore it all,
The anger over the bad timing…the…
Still, the comforting reassurances from Mother’s side—
Their hoaky talk
Of now having a boy to spoil
And watch grow,
A pied piper waiting to be stolen
From my arms.

What was it little one—
I mean, the cause?
Was it your mother’s glow hovering like a relentless sun
That seared and singed, and singed
The membrane-soft arteries of your little rat’s heart

Perhaps you came to say: “Mama Dear, your time has come.”
And rather than wait for death to randomly pick at me
Like an aged flea
You will choose the glorious day
And turn that cherry-red Wonderland
Into a house of decay—
Our private Wasteland
Where you and I can play.

Four days now
You’ve been lost
To me in this tomb.

Your are not a harvest,
But a rotten grape
That grew into an orange
And now, a smoldering yellow pus of
Decaying potato.

I believe they know that space has now become a tomb,
Little one.
They smell your rot on my breath,
See sags and rocky lumps in my
Fomenting belly.
I feel you dissolving; feel your
Fever rising to my throat.
You poison my blood.
You shorten my time.

Good God, the things you know you know—
And the illusions you bleed all over with your tiny rat’s heart.
You heard the lies they told
About the joy and wonder of:
Forthcoming Life.
Your flesh eats mine now.
You hasten a demise you would have started
The moment your first serenaded us all,
And then, a second cry to declare: “This is real.”
And: “I am here.”

The doctors and the white-washed nurses would have smiled.
And I can see Daddy—
You know the way he smiles that smile?
I can see it now,
Big enough to swallow you whole.
And all along you’ve sensed your mother’s fear.
And so, you decided to erase her despair.

Now, I can taste death because
Life inside me which had
Grown and grown
Is now gone, and, is no more.
It’s not so bad after all because
Death can’t cause sickness
Only Life.

So I will wait, my potato mush
Until they are gone,
Daddy, Auntie Rae and Grandma Joe
To the seaside fare
Where for a moment they can escape my poisonous fumes that
Strap them of air.
I will lie naked and cramped
And grab these two poles
That hold together the canopy where Daddy and I
Planned to grow old.

Come now.
And I will push and push—
Legs apart. Hands on the pole—
And push, and push and push
And then it will be over…this
Sickness of life
Push until it’s over and
You and I are no more.

Worst Job I Ever Had: Being a Mother (Revised)

Sun, 14 Dec 2008 18:12:51 -0500

I hate three of my four kids because they all forced me into being a mother. At nine years old I decided I would marry a rich man, tour the world and never have kids. My first husband was a pilot in the days when Upper Class people flew and dressed up and the ragged, shopping bag, going-to-Vegas low class trash didn't have a choice but to take Grey Hound.

We flew all over the world and low and behold I found myself pregnant with some brat who turned out to be a boy. We dragged him along like a sack of potatoes until he was seven at which time I decided it was time for boarding school in England. He screamed and ranted and begged. But it was o good. His fate had been decided the moment he was born.My first husband whom I'd married at 29 diedin an automobile accident one year after my son was in boarding school. Good riddance. I'd been trying to extricate myself from the marriage for years due to his philandering ways I myself had had an affair or two just to spite him.

Husband number two was a flaming gay. I am pro gay and was against Proposition 8--by the way. By sheer accident, I got pregnant before we were married; he forced me not to have an abortion and we got married. The minute the baby was born he started sleeping with other men. Shit! I put that one in boarding school when he was five. I just couldn't get into the breast feeding (no way are my breast going to sag for the betterment of children), the cake baking and P.T.A shibang.

Husband number three was a member of the diplomatic Corp. We traveled to and lived in no fewer than six countries in four years. Somewhere along the line--this was the sixties for heaven's sake--I got pregnant. Another damn accident. I was drunk the night he was conceived and forgot to insert that nice little toy. Baby number three was evil from the day he was born. He took one look at me, locked eyes and bawled and bawled. His eyes were evil. We never bonded. He resisted me from the day I took him home. His will was intransigent, implacable. Never met a kid like that before. But I kept him around much longer because husband number three who was also gay had a lot of money and threatened to expose my affairs to our friends.

Husband number three had sex with other men in front of me and humiliated me over and over again; telling me I couldn't give him what his street lovers could give him. Finally when baby number three was six he died from an infection he contracted up while touring somewhere in North Africa. Yahoooo! I was free. I packed urchin number three off to boarding school--holiday camps at Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving. No coming home for you buddy, and went on to meet the love of my life to whom I'm still married.

I had my fourth and he belongs to Mamma. He loves and adores me and will inherit my $3.3 million estate. He used to dress up in al my clothes and wanted to be Marilyn Monroe.

All I can say is this: If you don't own the souls of your kids, motherhood's a bitch.