THE WILY SHITENESS AND SLYLY WHITENESS OF MILEY CYRUS

by Colin Liddell

Well done, Miley. You've finally done it. I was trying to ignore you, like all the rest of the dross and mulch that is forced through the rotting intestines of the frankly dead music industry, but your latest little vid seems to have snaggled onto the broken shards left by the departed consciousness of Western civilization and has gone viral, so you must be doing something right, you little minx!

DREDDING HOMOSEXUALITY

by Colin Liddell

When last I read the sci-fi comic strip Judge Dredd, back in its 1980s heyday, the character seemed to work just fine without a psychological, emotional, and sexual back story.

There was enough fascination in unraveling the details of a 22nd-century world where America had been reduced to a couple of crime-ridden megacities separated by a radioactive wasteland full of mutants (Red States and Blue States, anyone?).

"THEY CAN'T TAKE AWAY MY DIGNITY"

The greatest love of all...

by Andy Nowicki

After several painful years of committing what may be called slow-motion suicide, pop singer Whitney Houston has perished at the age of 48, another wretchedly pitiful casualty of celebrity self-induced crapulence. Her burial earlier this month was accompanied by the same sort of flamboyant pomp and colorful fanfare that attended the funeral of Michael Jackson three years ago, and many of the usual suspects were on hand to exploit the tragedy of an early death for the purposes of egregious self-promotion. (Whenever someone Black and famous dies, that tubby walrus-like buffoon Al “Tawana Told the Truth” Sharpton seems to take it as his cue to stick his mug into every TV camera in sight and pontificate in his inimitably greasy way about America’s innumerable social ills, until you wish some renegade reporter would have the decency to smack him over the head with his microphone and yell, “Prophesy to us, O ebony Savior… Who hath struck you?”)

I am not immune to the pathos surrounding Ms. Houston’s demise, and I will pray for her eternal soul. The truth is, though, that her music was crap.