Black flags and broken glass.

I took a bite of my burger and then almost choked when something hit the window. Someone had just lobbed a paintball at the side of the diner and a yellow splotch was running down the glass. A crowd of people filed by shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, roughly half of them in black masks and black hoodies, some waving plain black flags made from tshirts and coats from the ends of poles.

I couldn't make out any signs or identifying marks, and they marched in silence, leaving me to wonder what they were up to; solidarity for Trayvon, early May Day Occupy march, or just on their way to some concert? Valencia street seemed like a strange spot to gather in any case. I looked at the paint on the glass and gave them a middle finger as they went by. I thought what a damn shame it was that one idiot should give whatever their cause was a bad name by acting like that.

Some poor prep cook had to come out and clean the window, and then the woman working the register poked her head out and reported, "They're fucking up the whole street!" Hmm. More than one idiot then. With the door open I could hear shouting and car alarms. I was almost done with dinner, and the march was between me and BART. I could have turned the opposite way and walked the extra few blocks to 24th street, but instead I decided to follow them. This is not indicative of sound decision making skills on my part, but I figured, why start being smart about shit now?

The marchers traveled along the southern side of the street (correction: eastern side; Valencia runs north-south), apparently stopping to tag walls and break windows on roughly every third storefront. I took pictures of the damage but they were getting further ahead of me, so I ran to catch up, hoping to get a quote from a straggler (though also admittedly concerned about getting an exclusive punch in the face if I tried to buttonhole the wrong person). About that time a column of cop cars and what can only be described as police golf carts (yeah, they have those, apparently) appeared.

I took stock of the situation: The protestors were all 20-somethings dressed in black, with hoodies; I'm a 20-something dressed in black, with a hoodie. I was right on the perimeter of the damage, and of course I don't have any press credentials of any kind. I've heard that tear gas is unpleasant. It probably says a lot about me that my instinct upon seeing a crowd of violent hooligans breaking things is to follow, but my instinct on seeing rescuing police arrive is to run away. We're learning all sorts of things about me tonight.

After standing around heroically twiddling my thumbs and checking my watch for half an hour like the ace newshound I am, I went back to catch the tail end of the carnage. Valencia was trashed from 18th down to 14th, with a single shop at the corner of 14th and Mission (where the marchers were dispersed) vandalized as well, broken glass filling the street. To my amazement, the very first building the marchers hit was the police station on the corner of 17th.

The station's windows were broken and the building front had been paint bombed, one particularly well-aimed yellow splotch covering the sign over the door. Four cops stood at watch at corner of the building, two of them twirling riot helmets in their hands, a third shouldering a rifle as news vans assembled nearby. Two more officers, helmets in hand as well, stood at the entrance of the parking lot. Police indicated that arrests had been made, but could not comment on what had happened at the station itself.

Down the street at the restaurant Locanda, Nirsi Najad, a parking valet who attends San Francisco State University, described his efforts to rescue a customer's car: "I was pulling up a car and I saw this huge mob of people. They were chanting, 'Occupy will never stop, we want to kill a fucking cop.' Then I realized, oh shit, we have a $150,000 Aston Martin parked right out front." Najad showed off the paint stains on his uniform, received when he attempted to intervene. The Aston Martin's windshield and windows were smashed, and paint covered the hood.

Asked why the protestors would target the quiet storefronts on Valencia, Najad speculated that they wanted to make an example out of the neighborhood because of its changing face. "This is the very heart and center of gentrification in the Mission," he said. Najad said he was sympathetic to the marcher's message but was saddened by their tactics. "I used to support the cause," he said, "but it's the 99% who have to clean this up."

Witnesses described protestors seizing the valet parking sign and using it as a club against the eatery's windows. "People thought they were shooting," when they heard the banging on the windows said a diner, who asked that his name not be used. "Everyone was diving on the floor." The windows were dented, but didn't crack under the assault. Most of Valencia's proprietors were not so lucky.

Down the street at the Artzone 461 art gallery, owner Steve Lopez struggled to pull the pane of broken, collapsing glass from his door. He wondered why anyone would target his establishment. "All we do is feature local artists, that's all we do," Lopez said. Asked if he had a message for the protestors, he replied, "Yeah, get out your wallet. Unless you'd prefer I come over to your place and we do a swap, I could break your windows."

"You'd think they'd go downtown," said Marc, the owner of nearby Tradesmen antique shop. "I don't get that at all. I don't mind the graffiti so much," he said, pointing to where an employee was scrubbing a large Anarchy symbol off the storefront, "but these windows, this will cost thousands to replace."

"These are all start-up businesses," said Robert, an employee at the nearby Voyager Shop clothing store (both men asked that their last names not be used because, in Robert's words, "I don't want to talk shit about the people who just tried to break my windows,"). "These aren't Starbucks, they're not some big corporate entity." Robert describes getting off work and then returning when he saw the group moving down the street, circling the protest and ducking down an alley between Mission and Valencia to get ahead of the mob and protect the store. "The gates were locked, so they couldn't break our windows, but I had to stand here to make sure they didn't graffiti the place."

Clifford Bradford, a recent transplant from the East Coast, bemoaned his luck as he surveyed the damage to his car: a broken windshield, broken side windows, and Anarchy symbols spray painted on the hood. "I lived in New York for five years," said Bradford, "and without exaggeration I've seen five times more broken glass here than I ever did living in New York city. Maybe ten times, without exaggeration, I don't ever remember seeing broken glass in New York. I lived in Harlem and I never saw broken glass."

Greg Manning, a 36-year resident who stopped to commiserate with Bradford over their mutual vehicular damage, described witnessing the attack on his car, and even pursuing the vandal. "We were down here at Little Star Pizza and my friend tells me look over there." Manning saw a masked man smash his car windows with a board and start to run. "We chased him and he told us, 'Oh yeah, it was this other guy, I saw the whole thing,' and then he took off and ran again."

Manning says he lost the vandal in the crowd as police converged on the group near Duboce Avenue. "They're just Anarchists," he said, "they're pissed off and they're just venting. They're mad, but they don't have a plan, so they fuck over themselves, which is me."

"I have a friend who moved and says he's going to join Occupy Chicago. First thing I'm going to do is go home and call him and scream at him," added Bradford, though he hastened to mention that he did not think that actions of a few undid what he viewed as the positive message of the Occupy movement.

Some signs of violence seemed particularly petty; an overturned planter in front of Venga Empanadas spilled dirt into the streets while a trio of passersby tried to rescue the plants from being trampled. A flimsy chain link fence surrounding an abandoned building at 99 Valencia, near the tail end of the damage, had been pulled down, the windows behind it broken. The words "Fuck this Shit" were sprayed onto a support column. It wasn't clear whether the graffiti was old or from the marchers, but the sentiment seemed to encapsulate everyone's feelings as the sound of brooms sweeping broken glass resounded for block after block.

Getting the Sach.

Last week, professional medium shot and aspiring big shot Greg Smith decided to quit his job. He did this trashing his bosses and their company on the New York Times' editorial page. This is less antagonistic than burning the building down, but only just.

There's this idea that Smith is some kind of hero for taking a principled stand against the culture of corruption on Wall street and for valuing his integrity over the dumptruck full of cash that his evil overlords were paying him to sit on paperwork every day for twelve years. And, yes, I suppose he does deserve some recognition for eventually deciding that taking the economy by the neck and throttling it like a Christmas goose might not be the best way to spend your time on this earth. Eventually.

It's not that I hold Smith's time at Goldman Sachs against him now that it's over, it's just that I can't quite shake the feeling that, even with his "Take this job and shove it," attitude, he's still giving us an unduly rosy picture of the way things work behind the curtain. But you don't have to take my word for it, let's hand things off to Mr. Smith:

"Thank you."

***

Plain = Smith

Bold = Me

TODAY is my last day at Goldman Sachs.

Oddly, this narrowly beats out "Today is the first day of the rest of your life," in tshirt sales.

After almost 12 years at the firm — first as a summer intern while at Stanford, then in New York for 10 years, and now in London — I believe I have worked here long enough to understand the trajectory of its culture, its people and its identity. And I can honestly say that the environment now is as toxic and destructive as I have ever seen it.

Note that the wording here indicates a nominal level of destructive toxicity that has now been exceeded.

To put the problem in the simplest terms, the interests of the client continue to be sidelined in the way the firm operates and thinks about making money. Goldman Sachs is one of the world’s largest and most important investment banks and it is too integral to global finance to continue to act this way. The firm has veered so far from the place I joined right out of college that I can no longer in good conscience say that I identify with what it stands for.

This is the same speech I gave when I cancelled my membership at the video store.

It might sound surprising to a skeptical public, but culture was always a vital part of Goldman Sachs’s success.

I think you misspelled "blackmail."

For more than a decade I recruited and mentored candidates through our grueling interview process. I was selected as one of 10 people (out of a firm of more than 30,000) to appear on our recruiting video, which is played on every college campus we visit around the world. In 2006 I managed the summer intern program in sales and trading in New York for the 80 college students who made the cut, out of the thousands who applied.

A couple more years of this and Invisible Children was liable to make a video about him.

When the history books are written about Goldman Sachs, they may reflect that the current chief executive officer, Lloyd C. Blankfein, and the president, Gary D. Cohn, lost hold of the firm’s culture on their watch. I truly believe that this decline in the firm’s moral fiber represents the single most serious threat to its long-run survival.

Well, that and the fact that Bud Fox was wearing a wire in the park.

Over the course of my career I have had the privilege of advising two of the largest hedge funds on the planet, five of the largest asset managers in the United States, and three of the most prominent sovereign wealth funds in the Middle East and Asia. My clients have a total asset base of more than a trillion dollars.

Question: How hard is it to get the smell of assholes off of yourself?

If you want to be liked, you should probably take this image off your business cards.

How did we get here? The firm changed the way it thought about leadership. Leadership used to be about ideas, setting an example and doing the right thing. Today, if you make enough money for the firm (and are not currently an ax murderer) you will be promoted into a position of influence.

That ax murderer policy seems a little unfair. Who's to say ax murderers can't be successful executives? Let's call in Patrick Bateman, see what he thinks.

What are three quick ways to become a leader? A) Execute on the firm’s “axes,” which is Goldman-speak for persuading your clients to invest in the stocks or other products that we are trying to get rid of because they are not seen as having a lot of potential profit.

When he said "execute" I really thought the end of the sentence was going to be "your immediate supervisor."

B) “Hunt Elephants.” In English: get your clients — some of whom are sophisticated, and some of whom aren’t — to trade whatever will bring the biggest profit to Goldman. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t like selling my clients a product that is wrong for them.

But you went to work on Wall street anyway. Gotta say, this feels like it's on you.

C) Find yourself sitting in a seat where your job is to trade any illiquid, opaque product with a three-letter acronym.

Tar?

Today, many of these leaders display a Goldman Sachs culture quotient of exactly zero percent. I attend derivatives sales meetings where not one single minute is spent asking questions about how we can help clients. It’s purely about how we can make the most possible money off of them. If you were an alien from Mars and sat in on one of these meetings, you would believe that a client’s success or progress was not part of the thought process at all.

Buddy, I'm a man from earth who has never sat in on one of these meetings, and I believe that even without being told.

Also, if I were an alien from Mars, I'd probably have other things on my mind, like "How the hell did I get here?" and "How can I possibly have existed on a planet whose atmosphere is almost entirely CO2?" You know, big picture stuff.

It makes me ill how callously people talk about ripping their clients off. Over the last 12 months I have seen five different managing directors refer to their own clients as “muppets,” sometimes over internal e-mail. Even after the S.E.C., Fabulous Fab, Abacus, God’s work, Carl Levin, Vampire Squids?

I'd like to nominate this as the greatest sentence ever composed by an MBA holder. Not even being sarcastic here, that was just awesome.

Pictured: The actual vampire squid that now has Greg Smith's old job.

I don’t know of any illegal behavior, but will people push the envelope and pitch lucrative and complicated products to clients even if they are not the simplest investments or the ones most directly aligned with the client’s goals? Absolutely. Every day, in fact.

Let me translate: "I don't know of any illegal behavior, just standard practices that would be illegal if our lobbyists didn't give incredible handjobs."

These days, the most common question I get from junior analysts about derivatives is, “How much money did we make off the client?” It bothers me every time I hear it, because it is a clear reflection of what they are observing from their leaders about the way they should behave. Now project 10 years into the future: You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that the junior analyst sitting quietly in the corner of the room hearing about “muppets,” “ripping eyeballs out” and “getting paid” doesn’t exactly turn into a model citizen.

This process seems needlessly complex; isn't there any way to get rid of the Muppets and get paid just for eyeball ripping?

When I was a first-year analyst I didn’t know where the bathroom was, or how to tie my shoelaces.

Wow, Standford's reputation must be incredibly inflated.

My proudest moments in life — getting a full scholarship to go from South Africa to Stanford University, being selected as a Rhodes Scholar national finalist, winning a bronze medal for table tennis at the Maccabiah Games in Israel, known as the Jewish Olympics — have all come through hard work, with no shortcuts. Goldman Sachs today has become too much about shortcuts and not enough about achievement. It just doesn’t feel right to me anymore.

I'm sorry, go back for a second; table tennis? At the "Jewish Olympics"?

...don't get me wrong, it's impressive. I mean, I couldn't do it. But, well, it ain't Rhodes Scholar, if you catch my drift.

I hope this can be a wake-up call to the board of directors. Make the client the focal point of your business again. Without clients you will not make money. In fact, you will not exist.

No sooner did this see print than a huge wing of most major financial institutions went to work solving the pesky problem of needing clients.

***

So what's my problem with Smith? Seems like a stand-up guy doing the stand-up thing. And to a degree, he is...but it's an underwhelming standard. I mean, when did this guy start at Goldman Sachs, 2000? Was the 2000 Goldman Sachs some kind of Candy Land of integrity and moral fiber? Really? Saying you quit Goldman Sachs after twelve years because you finally realized they were motivated by greed is like saying you finally quit the Klan because it dawned on you they were a little unfair to black people.

"All I'm saying is, things are starting to feel a teeny bit totalitarian around here. I mean, I can't be the only one feeling this way, am I right?"

You'll notice he doesn't tell us exactly when everything went to shit either, it's just "these days", in contrast with the halcyon days of yore. It also seems telling that, according to Smith, Goldman has lost its way only because of disdain for its clients, not because it's, ya know, a virulent plague on the entire world's financial system, a flesh-eating devil fish that strips everything it touches down to the marrow and converts it into toxic poo that contaminates entire swaths of ocean. Evidently it's fine with Smith if Goldman acts like the economic hantavirus that it's always been, if only they would go back to being nice to the customers while they do it.

Economic problems aren't institutional, according to Smith, it's just a question of atmosphere. As soon as America's most influential assholes remember that it's better if they all get together and fleece the world as a team rather than at each others' expense, everything will be just fine and dandy again. This is what happens when the 1% try to relate to how the rest of us feel about them. I can't help but feel like I'm watching Thurston Howell III try to have an awkward male bonding moment with Gilligan. I mean, okay, yes, he quit, and then he had the chutzpah to talk about it. I like that, honestly. Just don't pat him on the back too hard; he might break something.

Conspiracy Weary: David Icke.

Now, this guy is my absolute favorite.

At first it seems like the standard line: Secret society that rules the world, New World Order controls all government and media, "global elites" silence everything except, mysteriously, the author, this is all so well-trod as to be tiresome.

So what makes British conspiracy Messiah (a term I'm dead certain he self-applies) David Icke special? Well, it's not just that he thinks that a shadow cabal secretly rules the world, it's the, let's call it, precise nature of this supposed organization's members. In short, David Icke (pronounced "Ike", like Ike Eisenhower, but I have fun calling him "Ick") believes, apparently in complete earnestness, that the world is secretly ruled by lizard people.

Yes, lizard people.

To be more exact, they are a shapeshifting race of part-reptilian, part-humanoid creatures who came from "the Draco constellation" to oppress humankind. Although if we want to be perfectly accurate (sic, of course...), technically they're a hybrid race bred from reptile monsters and blond-haired, blue-eyed "Nordic" aliens. These "Aryan" repto-nordics (yeah, doesn't take long for this shit to get downright uncomfortable, does it?) are our secret shapeshifting masters. Apparently they drink blood, but also feed off of negative emotions, which of course is why they work so hard to make the world as miserable a place to live in as possible.

Ever been to the Denver international airport? I'm told it's a hole. Icke insists that it was designed this way on purpose to inspire precious misery for our reptile masters to feed on, as well as to serve as a "cathedral" for their Lovecraftian religion. Naturally this is all done psychically. This is explained in Icke's book, entitled (wait for it): "The Biggest Secret: The Book That Will Change the World!" Yes, he really called it that. You're probably starting to see why I love this guy.

Just who is a lizard person, according to Icke? Well, the British royal family, for starters, he REALLY has it in for them. Also, the Bush family, the Clintons, evidently most of the Israeli government, the Vatican, and yes, the Obamas. In fact, every US president ever was a lizard person (including Eisenhower. Icke doesn't like Ike). Also, Kris Kristofferson. Yes, Kris Kristofferson, for some reason. Actually, in fairness, that claim comes from Icke's fellow conspiracy nut Cathy O'Brien, who claims she was sold to Kristofferson (who she describes in her own book as a "Vatican based Project Monarch slave runner") for sexual slavery. I just like to include him because, well, it really rounds out the list, am I right?

Of course, they're not JUST alien lizard people. They're also Satanists, child molesters, drug lords, Nazis, and whatever else Icke thinks is scary. It seems all stripes of bad people are coterminous with the reptilian agenda. He is oddly inconsistent on some of these points; for example, I was just reading an illuminating (sic) piece on his website illustrating that the elder President Bush is a child molesting Satanist (I'm not going to lie, some of his material is rather attractive...). This piece leaves out the thing about him also being a psychic lizardman from the Draco bloodline, though. Rather a startling omission really, what if there are a few people who still don't know?

"Read the place where my lips would be!"

I really should give you some of Icke's stuff in his own words. Thing of it is, he's so fruit loops that it's hard to make fun of in my usual fashion. I mean, what can you come up with as a witty rejoinder to:

"I strongly believe that a small Jewish clique which has contempt for the mass of Jewish people worked with non-Jews to create the First World War, the Russian Revolution, and the Second World War. This Jewish/non-Jewish Elite used the First World War to secure the Jewish State of Israel. They financed Hitler to power in 1933 and made the funds available for his rearmament."

...see, where am I supposed to go with that? Or with this:

"The members of this Elite are either direct incarnations of the fourth-dimensional Prison Warders or have their minds controlled by them. The aim of the Brotherhood and its interdimensional controllers has been to centralize power in the hands of the few. What is happening today is the culmination of the manipulation which has been unfolding for thousands of years."

Funny? Sure. But not "Ha Ha" funny, if you get me.

There is some question about whether Icke is serious about all of this. Some propose that his lizard man conspiracy is just an elaborate metaphor or psychodrama. Others suppose he's just a charlatan making money off of people who need serious medication. And make no mistake, exposing lizard people is good money; Icke has written seventeen books and is apparently doing quite well for himself. Curiously, his volumes are invariably lost or stolen at every branch of the local library, suggesting either rabid zeal on the part of his fans or dogged persistence on the part of his enemies. I suppose only Icke himself knows for sure which is which.

And of course, it goes without saying that Icke's fans are even more absurdly, graphically insane than he is. Icke is both a poor writer and a walking, talking advertisement for the utility of Thorazine (which is probably full of mind control chemicals), but for all that he at least comes off as a soft-spoken, somewhat intelligent, even charming man when interviewed. His message board, on the other hand, is full of logic-eating hell trolls who spend hours analyzing clips of the BBC and Fox News second by second to catch instances of involuntary "shapeshifting" from correspondents. There's also an entire thread posting pictures of various First Ladies to debate which of them has the "least convincing" human disguise. It's downright rude, really.

I'm not saying I don't see it, I'm saying shut your trap.

Of course, by poking fun at Icke, I'm actually validating his world view, at least as far as he's concerned. As he so delicately put it 13 years ago:

"It's funny that since I began writing and speaking about reptilian bloodlines running the world, which, according to the mainstream and many conspiracy 'researchers', is apparently ridiculous, you would have expected the opposition to my work to subside.... BUT HOW FUNNY! THE OPPOSITE HAS HAPPENED. SINCE I BEGAN TALKING ABOUT THE REPTILIAN CONNECTION, THE OPPOSITION HAS BEEN INCREASED SUBSTANTIALLY. WHY? IF I AND THE ENDLESS PEOPLE ANCIENT AND MODERN WHO HAVE SEEN THE SHAPE-SHIFTERS ARE SO MISGUIDED, WHY HAS THE OPPOSITION INCREASED SO MUCH SINCE THE BIGGEST SECRET WAS PUBLISHED AND NOT THE OPPOSITE?"

Why indeed?

Conspiracy Weary: Henry Makow.

Conspiracy nuts are, of course, terrifying people, but also hilarious people. The internet was a Godsend for these folks, as in generations past most of them were able to disseminate their views only via bathroom graffiti and whatever they managed to shriek at you while squeegeeing your windshield at the intersection.

Henry Makow, for example, is a Canadian conspiracy nut and part-time board game inventor (not a joke). His gimmick isn't that inventive; he insists that the New World Order are working their asses off to depopulate the earth. Makow's insanity stands out in HOW he claims the NWO are doing this, though: by turning us all gay or just convincing us to sleep around without ever settling down.

Makow has appointed himself a kind of Cockblocker General of the entire world, utilizing his blog and various books to quietly explain to young men (always men; Makow never has much to say to women beyond "Stay in the kitchen,") that every sperm is sacred. Just how weird of a dude is Henry Makow? Perhaps to answer this question we may look to his essay, "Why All Porn is Gay". I mean, really, now that we've read the title, how can we not?

***

Plain = Makow

Bold = Me

What kind of man is this: He is fastidious about his appearance, his home and his possessions. He wants as much sex as possible and chooses sexual partners mostly on the basis of appearance. He is self-absorbed and doesn't want emotional involvement or commitment. He thinks a woman would stifle him and children would be a burden.

Oh, wait, I know this one!

Does this sound like many gays?

Oh. Wow, I was WAY off...

It is also the masculine ideal purveyed by Playboy magazine to men since the 1950's. The "establishment" agenda is to destabilize and neuter us by encouraging homosexual behavior. This ensures we don't propagate since homosexuals have sex but don't have children.

Somehow or another we gayed ourselves up to about seven billion people last year. But I guess it takes a while for a plan like this to really get rolling, yeah?

A perceptive reader recently wrote me: "If heterosexual sex outside of marriage is acceptable, if we eliminate the procreative aspect from sex, are heterosexuals any different from homosexuals in regards to the sexual activity?"

Um, yes, quite different, actually. If you don't understand the concept, I've prepared some helpful diagrams. I warn you, they're a bit on the...anatomical side.

Throughout modern history Illuminati bankers have used "sexual liberation" to subvert society and establish their subtle tyranny. They realized that they couldn't take control until they destroyed the family. This was a main plank of the Communist Manifesto in 1848, along with the creation of a private central bank.

Okay, Makow is menacing us with a cabal of gay communist Freemasons. If he can just find some way to turn them into Nazi Muslims too he'll have the full hat trick.

The Illuminati used Hugh Hefner's "Playboy" to divorce sex from love, marriage and family. There is nothing so destructive to human society as the separation of sex and love. It reduces men to dogs, and women to fire hydrants.

Whoa! Okay, wow, that was so much more about what goes on in the Makow family bedroom than I ever, ever wanted to know. Ya know for a professional prude he's a little on the kinky side...

All pornography is gay. The porn consumer is engaged in a promiscuous masturbatory fantasy. Pornography is poisoning heterosexuality.

Wait, I can be promiscuous even when I'm masturbating? Like, even when I'm alone? What if I...what if I put a sheet over myself, does that negate the promiscuous gayness? Or what if I'm underwater, like, where no one can find me? Here, let me draw a diagram of how I do it and you tell me whether this counts or not.

I hate to burst the bubble on a billion dollar industry: Young naked women are practically identical. They have identical equipment. Boobs and bush. Symmetrical faces. Do men need to see literally thousands of examples?

So, Henry, how's the wife these days? Happy? Or is she still steamed over that name tag you make her wear? Like it's your fault they all look alike, right?

Marriage ensured that men would have to commit if they wanted sex. By undermining marriage, occult social engineers have turned a critical social and reproductive activity into a lifetime obsession, better to divert, degrade and control the masses.

I don't get it; he's making this sound like some kind of bad thing?

I don't know what people were complaining about. As far as I'm concerned, best PTA meeting EVER.

Together with feminist activists (who believe heterosexuality is inherently oppressive) gay activists began to dismantle all heterosexual institutions: masculinity, femininity, marriage, the nuclear family, the boy scouts, sports, and the military.

Well, now that he mentions it, I myself have never produced a child, joined the boy scouts, gone to a baseball game, or blown up anyone overseas. So he may very well have me there.

Backed by the financial elite, gay activists and their supporters now largely dictate our cultural sensibility. They are responsible for the puerile pornographic obsession that pervades television, music videos and the Internet. In 40 short years, almost all sexual constraints have dissolved and heterosexual society is reeling.

Yeah, I know, sweet deal, right? So what the hell are you complaining about? Maybe you're just working too hard. Have you visited with the fire hydrant today? I mean, the wife?

The Oscar Grouch, 2012.

I kept hearing critics talking about what a bad year 2011 was for movies, and thought they must be nuts. I saw AWESOME movies last year. Then I looked at this year's Best Picture nominees and I realized, oh, THAT's what they mean.

See, "Troll Hunter" and "Point Blank" might have been awesome movies, but they're not Oscar movies. If you pick up 2011 and shake it hoping that ten slightly artsy but refreshingly mainstream films for the Academy to choose from are going to fall out, you will indeed be disappointed.

So we ended up with one of the dullest nominee lists of all time, including that one year that Andy Warhol was nominated for his film about paint drying in Taylor Mead's house (the follow-up about his ass was better received. That's not even a joke, by the way, Andy Warhol did an entire movie about Taylor Mead's ass. It was called..."Taylor Mead's Ass". I swear I am not making this up). Still, it's not all bad...just mostly bad.

***

1. Incredibly Loud & Extremely Close.

Every year there's one nominee that I didn't bother to see. And here it is. The title strikes me as a comment on how uncomfortable it is watching movies in 3D. Were that the subject of the film, I might have sat through it. Moving on.

"This looks so much easier when chimpanzees do it on the Discovery channel."

2. The Artist.

Everyone else can just stay home, this should clearly be our winner. I’m not being sarcastic, I LOVE this movie.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "A black and white French silent film about the golden age of Hollywood!?" I know, it's like they read my diary, right? I mean, sure, I throw coins into that wishing well all the time, but if I knew it would actually pay off I'd probably have wished for a cure for cancer or peace in Darfur.

...actually, no, I'd probably still have wished for this. "The Artist" comes at a time when complaints about the lack of originality in mainstream movies are at an all-time high. I guess in the midst of endless franchise films and remakes, someone finally had the idea that if we're just going to build on what's already past, why not go as far past as we can?

One of these is Jean Dujardin, and the other is his dog...but I'm actually having trouble telling which is which?

3. Hugo.

At first I thought this must have been a typo, and that the actual nominee was that movie where you see Michael Fassbender's penis. (See, they meant to write "Huge"...which is not the title of that film either, but it's probably still what they would have written.) But no, apparently they really meant this, an oddball kid's movie about an orphan who lives in a train station and builds the creepiest looking onscreen robot since they finally killed off Brent Spiner's "Star Trek" character (seriously, it's one thing to visit the Uncanny Valley, it's another to build a resort there).

"Hugo" is pretty sterile. It's a love letter to the golden age of filmmaking, but it's going head to head with "The Artist", which is a bit like seeing a Beatles cover band open for Paul McCartney. While "The Artist" illustrates what was wonderful about that period, "Hugo" just talks about it, in a way that seems self-indulgent and self-congratulatory.

So why the (brace for it) eleven nominations? Well, I guess they figured if Martin Scorsese has finally gone nuts enough to think he's the man to create children's fare, they probably shouldn't antagonize him. Though Scorsese did try to helm one other kid’s movie in the past. Sadly, no one was interested in his "It's Time to Meet the Motherfucking Muppets" script. Shame.

I actually find Chloe Grace Moretz more disturbing when she's not swearing like a sailor and murdering people in a movie.

4. The Help.

Here's a movie that would have been a sure winner had it been released in 1993 or so. Emma Stone plays an upscale white woman in Jim Crow-era Mississippi who publishes a book profiling the lives of black maids working in her community. I watched the whole thing just hoping we'd find out why her character is named "Skeeter", in the vain hope that M. Night Shyamalan did a final revision on the script and she'd turn out to be some kind of Roger Corman-style mosquito woman, but to no avail.

"The Help" won the Screen Actors Guild award for "Outstanding Cast", which is apparently a real thing and a hell of a boon for whoever gets paid to manufacture those little award statues. Viola Davis is up for "Best Actress", which after "Eat, Pray, Love" and "Nights in Rodantha" validates her longstanding insistence that if she just keeps making movies based on books that Oprah read on a plane it will eventually pay off. Also a good movie to see if you're a Jessica Chastain fan and somehow missed the 17 other movies she did last year.

Huh. There's something different about the "Sex and the City" gals. Can't put my finger on it.

5. The Descendants.

Right around the first week of October, George Clooney was relaxing in whatever woman's apartment he finds himself in these days and thinking "Boy, I hope 'The Ides of March' does well, otherwise they're going to have to nominate that other movie I did." Yeah, I was holding out hope too, George.

Remember how "Up in the Air" was slow and quiet but in an endearingly eccentric, vulnerable way, and how "The American" was slow and quiet in a tense, pathos-laden way? Well, imagine those movies without the eccentricity, vulnerability, tension, pathos, or Vera Farmiga's body double. Ta-daa: "The Descendants", a movie about coming to responsibility late in life. Clooney plays a man struggling to keep his family together after an accident puts his wife into a vegetative state. The audience joins her presently. More compelling dialogue was heard in "The Artist" (think about that one for a second).

God how I hoped King Kong would come crashing out of the jungle right at this moment. Or maybe just one of those dinosaurs from "Jurassic Park". I wasn't feeling picky.

6. Moneyball.

Christ, maybe this WAS a lousy year. Don't get me wrong, "Moneyball" is based on a really riveting story...which translated into a dulldulldulldulldulldulldulldulldull (dull) film. This will be great for those who thought "The Descendants" was just too fast-paced and kinetic.

Brad Pitt plays Oakland A's manager Billy Beane as he attempts to hornswaggle a championship for his put-upon team with the help of a ivy league-educated economist played by Jonah Hill. Yeah, Beane was cast as Brad Pitt, and Paul DePodesta ended up as Jonah Hill, which I guess explains why they changed his character's name and everything about him, probably for fear of being sued. (Don't worry, that wasn't a fat joke; Johan Hill just lost a ton of weight, and he's still unattractive and starring in bad movies. I wouldn't want to be played by Jonah Hill if they digitally grafted his head onto Michelangelo's "David").

"Moneyball" is not actually a sports movie, but rather something of an anti-sports movie. Turns out, winning isn't about "heart" and teamwork, it's about what the Beane counters (*rimshot*) in the main office did with their spreadsheets. Pitt's character would be the antagonist in any other movie about baseball, as he joylessly commodifies his players. Normally this would bring dark, cancerous joy to my misanthropic little heart, but in this case it's SO hard to care. The movie shoehorns in a subplot about Beane's strained family life and relationship with his daughter, which was so disinteresting in its own right that it was spun off into its own film: "The Descendants".

Pitt himself comprised the entire crowd for this season's A's opener.

7. Midnight in Paris.

Okay, let's talk about a good movie for a change. Save me Woody Allen, save me. No, I did not say “Soon-Yi”, I said “save me”! Concentrate, man!

After seemingly losing his mind/talent for most of the 90s (so much so that he pointedly starred in a movie about a director who has gone blind; this too-apt metaphor is widely regarded as his worst movie/therapy session ever), Woody Allen is enjoying something of a last-minute creative renaissance in recent years. I dunno, maybe he was saving it up?

Here he directs Owen Wilson (I know, I know, but stay with me here) as a put-upon writer who is mysteriously transported to 20s-era Paris, where he gets to hang out with his artistic idols and, increasingly, stop giving a crap about his banshee-like fiance. That the movie is genuinely funny and charming came as a surprise; that it’s endearing and thoughtful was a shock; that I finally finished an Owen Wilson movie without wanting to re-break his nose is fracking miracle.

As you can see, some people still haven't quite recovered from "Crash" winning Best Picture seven years ago.

8. War Horse.

Well, at least this saved me from dropping cash the stage show.

I should come clean up front: I have always hated movies about horses. As a kid I was force-fed a great many family films about a young person's "special bond" with some fucking horse, and good lord did I ever not give a crap. As soon as this one opened with imagery of a foal prancing through a sun-dappled meadow I knew I was in for a long night.

At the heart of the movie is a relationship between a horse and his boy so uncomfortably intimate that it feels a bit like someone put “Equus” in a blender with “Saving Private Ryan” and this is what poured out. I felt like I should leave and give them some peace. Matter of fact, that would have made me feel more peaceful too. "War Horse" is turgid and bloated, showcasing forced sentimentality that constitutes some of Spielberg's most self-indulgent work to date.

This close to having to black box the pic.

9. Tree of Life.

And then there's this one, which shouldn't even be on the list. Comparing "Tree of Life" to other movies is...it’s not even like comparing apples to oranges, it’s like comparing apples to an image of an apple in the background of a Dali painting on the jacket of a book about string theory. And if you’re complaining that that analogy doesn’t make any sense, well, I watched “Tree of Life” start to finish, so I feel like it’s my prerogative not to make sense if I want to.

The movie stars Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain (see) as parents at loggerheads over how to raise Lil Sean Penn, she being gentle and holistic and he subscribing to a more Kobra Kai brand of parenting. But that's only what the movie is about when it takes the time to remember that it's about something.

What do I mean? Well, look, just by way of the most immediate example, at one point there are dinosaurs. Yes, dinosaurs. There’s a scene of CGI dinosaurs in a primeval forest, and the dinosaurs enact a little pantomime drama for us, and then the scene ends and we go back to the principal domestic plot without any context at all. Oh, but actually, first we have footage of jellyfish swimming, and then asteroids in space, and volcanic eruptions, and THEN we get back to the plight of Lil Sean Penn.

What the hell was that all about? Well, I have my own analysis, and I’m sure plenty of other people do too. And then a lot of people are just confused as hell. Ultimately it doesn’t matter, because no matter how you spin it, “Tree of Life” just isn’t put together the same way as “Moneyball” and “The Help”. It may very well be the best movie of the year...but it’s hard to make an argument for it, because it would depend too much on your point of view. While all criticism is subjective, “Tree of Life” is a movie in which there pretty much is no object.

And there are dinosaurs.

"Hey, I'm late, where's Clooney shooting? If I miss my cue that movie is going to be boring as shit!"

Lesbian Communist Girl Scouts are taking over America.

Indiana Congressional Representative Bob Morris doesn't seem to have enough to do. This week he drafted a rather lengthy letter to his fellow members of Congress warning them that (wait for it) the Girl Scouts of America are a dangerous subversive group. He gets paid to do this stuff, mind you.

The thing of it is...just between you and me, he's right. In fact, as a radical far-left terror agent myself (remember, I live in San Francisco, it just goes without saying), I know all about the inner workings of this fiendish conspiracy. To be honest, as far as fiendish conspiracies go, it's not our best work, but it's still annoying that Morris is on to us. Might be time to activate his daughters' sleeper switches and get this square-headed do-gooder out of the picture once and for all.

***

Plain text = Morris letter.

Bold text = Me.

"This past week I was asked to sign a House Resolution recognizing the 100th Anniversary of Girl Scouts of America. After talking to some well-informed constituents, I did a small amount of web-based research, and what I found is disturbing."

Look Mr. Congressman, I'll be the first to admit that it's in bad taste, but nevertheless those models are all of legal age, and the uniforms were donated.

"The Girl Scouts of America and their worldwide partner, World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts (WAGGGS), have entered into a close strategic affiliation with Planned Parenthood."

Best. Acronym. Ever.

Original copy: "Resistance is futile! Submit, submit!

"You will not find evidence of this on the GSA/WAGGGS website—in fact, the websites of these two organizations explicitly deny funding Planned Parenthood."

I forgot to add in the part where they also explicitly deny funding Iranian nuclear research. But perhaps I've said too much.

"Nonetheless, abundant evidence proves that the agenda of Planned Parenthood includes sexualizing young girls through the Girl Scouts, which is quickly becoming a tactical arm of Planned Parenthood."

In case you were wondering why your Thin Mints tasted like birth control pills.

"Planned Parenthood instructional series and pamphlets are part of the core curriculum at GSA training seminars. Denver Auxiliary Bishop James D. Conley of Denver last year warned parents that 'membership in the Girl Scouts could carry the danger of making their daughters more receptive to the pro-abortion agenda.'"

I knew I shouldn't have introduced that Abortion merit badge.

"A Girl Scouts of America training program last year used the Planned Parenthood sex education pamphlet 'Happy, Healthy, and Hot.'"

I wanted it to be, "Happy, Healthy, and Homo", but there was just barely not enough room.

"The pamphlet instructs young girls not to think of sex as 'just about vaginal or anal intercourse.' 'There is no right or wrong way to have sex. Just have fun, explore and be yourself!' it states"

This replaced the traditional sex ed pamphlet, "The Place Between Your Legs is a Cauldron of Shame".

"Many parents are abandoning the Girl Scouts because they promote homosexual lifestyles."

If only.

"In fact, the Girl Scouts education seminar girls are directed to study the example of role models. Of the fifty role models listed, only three have a briefly-mentioned religious background – all the rest are feminists, lesbians, or Communists."

Hey, that's totally unfair!

There are some eco terrorists in there too.

"Boys who decide to claim a 'transgender' or cross-dressing life-style are permitted to become a member of a Girl Scout troop, performing crafts with the girls and participate in overnight and camping activities – just like any real girl."

My plan to indoctrinate boys to camping and crafts is coming off exactly as I foresaw! They said I was crazy when I floated this scheme at the annual meeting of the Commission Overseeing and Masterminding the Manipulation of Impressionable Enterprises (COMMIE) a few years back, but see how my agenda has come to fruition!

"The Girl Scouts of America stand in a strong tradition that reflects with fidelity the traditional values of our homes and our families. The tradition extends from coast-to-coast and back through the past one hundred years."

But you just claimed they were a bunch of half-sized lesbian communists? I mean, unless you're saying that lesbian communism is a traditional American value. Because if so, you've got my vote.

"I have two daughters who have been active in the Girl Scouts of Limberlost Council in Northeastern Indiana. Now that I am aware of the influence of Planned Parenthood within GSA and other surprisingly radical policies of GSA, my two daughters will instead become active in American Heritage Girls Little Flowers organization. In this traditional group they will learn about values and principles that will not confuse their conservative Hoosier upbringing."

Honestly, I can't imagine anything that will damage them more than being referred to as "Hoosiers."

"I have been told that, as of today, I am the only member not supporting the Girl Scout Resolution."

And what did you conclude from the realization that your career in politics has come to this?

Race study confirms: People with low standards are easy to impress.

See, there's such a thing as good news, and then there's such a thing as news that is only good if you're just barely paying attention and/or expected worse. Like those really old people who can't get upset about their diabetes because they always assumed they'd be dead by now anyway.

The Pew Research Center (not to be confused with the Peeuw Research Center, whose work I find highly dubious) released a study on interracial dating and marriage in America, concluding that Americans are much more open about such couplings than they were twenty five years ago. Why would I possibly have a problem with that? Well, look at these numbers:

"About 83 percent of Americans say it is 'all right for blacks and whites to date each other,' up from 48 percent in 1987."

First of all, 80s America, what the hell? Forty eight percent in 1987? Christ, forty eight percent of just the people who saw "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner" came out with a leg up on you, and that was the fucking 60s, when "Just 'cuz" was still a reasonable legal statute for punching a black man in the back of the head.

If you could see them from the waist down, you'd know why they were smiling.

And frankly, I'm not really happy about that 83% number either. Who is that leftover 17%? What's their problem? Is this about Obama? Look, I'm disappointed too, but this is not the appropriate way to express it.

And this part just kills me:

"As a whole, about 63 percent of those surveyed say it 'would be fine' if a family member were to marry outside their own race."

Sixty three?! Not even two thirds? If this were a high school class, America wouldn't even rate a D+ in interracial marriage. We'd be cheating off of Canada's paper all the time and probably still fucking up. People, this is just not good enough. You know what a good number is? A hundred. Nice and round. Easy on addition. Except you don't have to add anything, because it's everyone.

Now I know what you're thinking. And let me say, those thoughts are disgusting. For the love of Christ, that's your cousin. But I know what else you're thinking about too; there will always be assholes. You can't expect the best out of everybody, right? Well, I don't really give a damn. I refuse to be impressed by these results. Better than 1987 is still not good enough.

It's a low bar to clear, in some contexts.

And you know who I blame? Tiger Woods. He was like our national ambassador for cross-ethnic genital hockey, the product of an interracial coupling who could not stop having interracial couplings. Look Tiger, I know things went to shit for you, but you've got another 37% of Americans to reach. That's a lot of women.

And let's face it, it's not like you're playing much golf these days. Maybe your true calling was that other thing all along, know what I mean?