"You and i [sic] will likely disagree on something, [sic] conflict is inevitable. What matters is how we attain unity and harmony within the conflict."
- Kat Swift

Stanley Moon: You're a nutcase! You're a bleedin' nutcase!

George Spiggott: They said the same of Jesus Christ, Freud, and Galileo.

Stanley Moon: They said it of a lot of nutcases too.

-From "Bedazzeled"

If you haven't already, please be sure to read Part One of this thrilling Viking saga: Not that this'll make any more sense to you, but if misery loves company, then I'm throwing a block party.

And now a few words about Green Party Presidential Wannabe Kat Swift (whose website seems to have undergone some changes including the addition of a video of here dressed as a sort of hippie Wonder Woman):

I bet if I met Kat Swift, I'd like her. OK, maybe not like, but I wouldn't hate her. She means well. Which is to say that she's basically a well meaning Hippie who thinks that war, and poverty, and racism, and sexism, and cutting down giant redwoods in order to turn them into spears with which to kill polar are all bad things. And I agree with her (except on that things, as I think we can all concur that seeing a polar bear impaled by some sort of giant tree-missile would be fuckin' awesome!). I mean, she's not qualified to President, but that never stopped George Bush.

So what's my beef with Kat Swift? I mean other than my well known dislike of Hippies? If you take the time to scan Kat's biography, you'll find the following under "Education Background""

"...aromatherapy, herbalism ... energy & body therapy techniques"

One of the few simple pleasures I've managed to enjoy over the last few years is looking down my nose at the Republican Party for their distain of Science. Thanks to the Green Party's support of Kat "Smell this ginseng and heal your inner child" Swift, I have lost the right to openly mock the likes of Mike Huckabee and the entire Dugger Clan for being superstitious peons.

Look, I'm there are a lot of decent, well meaning people out there who think that the Earth is 8,000 years old and that life begins two weeks before conception. If I can take the time out of my busy day to mock these imbeciles for their gross stupidity, shouldn't I at least offer the same opportunity to someone from my own end of the political spectrum?

I arrived at six-thirty, which is when caucusing was supposed to begin, just in time to be informed that the meeting was running on "Green Party Time" and that I might be sitting around for a while. That was the first in a series of baaaaad omens. If we can't start a motherscratchin' meeting on time, what chance do we ever have of capturing the White House?

The caucus organizer had set up four table (one in each corner of the auditorium) on which information about each candidate was laid out along with snacks. If the mention of snacks just made you hungry, don't worry, you're about to lose your appetite. Let's meet the candidates I had to chose from (I'll be going in the order of the tables; starting at "five o'clock" and moving clockwise)

Jesse Johnson is a former Country Line-Dance (I'm not sure if that word is hyphenated or not, and I don't plan on looking it up as that might entail catching a glimpse of photos of Country Line-Dancing) Instructor and Comedian from West Virginia. Well, that pretty much qualifies him to answer the "Red Phone" at 3 am in my book. "Mr. President, the Chinese are threatening to attack unless someone can teach them to do the "Achy Breaky". They're also demanding that someone do a painfully unfunny monologue about how New York and LA are different and some poop jokes."

Cynthia McKinney, whose table was next, is my dream candidate. You know, the dream in which the Greens nominate a deranged-looking woman who thinks Bush may've been involved in 9/11, slaps cops, and has something in common with Mel Gibson.

Kat Swift is... well Kat Swift is too much of an embarrassment to write about here. Like McKinney, she really deserves her own post. And that's just what she's going to get – next time. I get the feeling it might take me a while to tell this story.

Authenticity: -89 Out Of 100
Entertainment: 90 Out of 100
Gayness Factor: Fuh-laaaaay-ming! (Not that there's anything wrong with that)

In our search for The Worst Movie about the Classical World Ever Made it's important to be like the Spartans and not leave our buddy's behind…and trust me, the Spartans rarely left their buddies' behind (Not that there's anything wrong with that), so let's have a frank discussion about 300.

From the perspective of historical accuracy, 300 is roughly equivalent to making a film about the American Revolution in which George Washington has an invisible robot friend. Yes, there was a Persian invasion of Greece led by Emperor Xerxes; yes, 300 Spartans (along with several other groups of Greeks, including 1,500 Thespians) held the pass at Thermopylae against overwhelming enemy numbers, and yes, a Greek named Dienekes, when told that the Persian arrows would blot out the sun said "Then we shall fight in the shade". But the similarities between the story on the screen and what went down in real life pretty much end there.

While searching for a decent site to link the Thermopylae reference above to, I stumbled upon this review in Archaeology Online that does an excellent job (much better than I could do) of pointing out the numerous problems with 300 (although it does fail to mention the true hero of the Persian War: Themistocles), so let me just say that 300 is probably the Gayest movie ever made (Not that there's anything wrong with that). C'mon; oily, barely dressed men struggling with each other? That's Gayer than the closeted Republican Senator currently tapping his foot in a toilet stall (OK, there is something wrong with that) Just about every Gay dude I know owns at least one copies of this move: some own two, just in case something happens to the first one.

From a straight-male perspective, apart from reminding me that I really need to get to the gym and drop about fifty pounds, I have to admit that this film is actually a lot of fun. Sure, the acting is wooden; the characters are, at best, two dimensional; and the plot is hardly a plot, but who doesn't enjoy * watching limbs getting hacked from bodies, geysers of blood, and death-by-forced-cliff-diving?

* "suggestive eye movement"???

Now, before I launch into a postmodernist deconstruction of 300, I'd like to say a word about Quo Vadis (mainly because it was on TCM the other night). Despite being set in Imperial Rome during the reign of Nero, Quo Vadis is a Jesus movie - and a pretty bad Jesus movie at that (during the 50's a lot of Jesus movies where set in Rome so that the studio could up the titillation factor by showing slave girls dancing lasciviously). Quo Vadis is one of those films that whatever shadow groups rates movies always feels the need to assign at least 3 stars to. This is due to the prevailing misconception that filming making was more difficult prior to the release of Midnight Cowboy because filmmakers had to imply everything from sex to special effects that were impossible to film given the limited technologies of the era. If this theory were anymore bullshit it would be Ben Stein. It's much easier to imply something than to take the actual trouble to film it. Do you think that Deliverance would be as disturbing if the Bandit pulled up in his Trans Am and asked Joe Buck where Ned Beatty was, and Buck replied with "I dunno; getting' raped by hillbillies, I guess." Have you ever seen the "edited for television" version of Marathon Man? You'd think Enrico Salvatore "Ratso" Rizzo had just swung by an old Nazi's basement office to get his teeth cleaned.

Shit Luther, now I'm too angry to review 300, so let me just slip out, grab some lunch and maybe a little nap, and I'll post a little latter, OK?

Speaking of a million years (or 3.5 million to be more accurate), I've picked out my next tattoo:

I just hope Vienna is OK with me having a picture of another woman on my arm.

Authenticity: 80 Out Of 100
Entertainment: 9 Out of 100
Gayness Factor: Not-So-Gay

Our quest for the The Worst Movie about the Classical World Ever Made kicks off with Gladiator, starring motivational puncher Russell Crowe. Although I've made it through the entire film once, whenever it pops up on cable, I make sure I catch the opening ten minutes - and only the opening ten minutes- in which the highly disciplined Roman army kicks the living shit out of my hairy and unruly ancestors. That ten minutes of film is probably the most accurate depiction of ancient warfare to ever hit the screen: the Roman archers are clearly, and correctly, of Eastern origin, and the barbarians even have a calyx, for the love of Darwin.

The rest of the film is a Circus of the Mundane, so I'll just use this paragraph to point out that the real Emperor Commodus was a four-star-freak who had a thing for watching female gladiators duke it out. Now that would've made for great subplot.

Enjoy all ten minutes and fourteen seconds!

Speaking of dumbing things down...

The Black Shield of Falworth in which Tony Curtis, in a thick Brooklyn accent, utters the immortal line "Yondah lies da castle uh me faddah, da king" is generally regarded to be the worst film about the Middle Ages ever made. The best would probably be Da Name uh da Rose.

Now that that's settled; let's embark on a quest to determine which movie can claim the title of "The Worst Movie about the Classical World Ever Made." And, as anything worth doing is either worth doing right or doing drunk, let's establish some ground rules to keep us on track:

1. The "Classical World" shall mean the period between 800 BCE and late October of 411 CE in the area around the Mediterranean. This means that Beowulf and King Arthur for example, are off the table for discussion. Oddly, Arthur is not off the table, as it starred Sir John Gielgud who was also in Oedipus, Julius Caesar, and a film he tried to take his name off: Caligula.

2. While themes of Mythology are acceptable, Fantasy is not. Jason and the Argonauts is in. Conan the Barbarian is out.

3. NO Biblical movies: I don't care if there is a Roman governor and half of the Sixth Legion in your goddamn movie, they're only there to nail up Jesus.

4. Each movie shall be rated on two factors: Authenticity and Entertainment. How historically accurate or close to the literary text is the film, and is it watchable? While I don't want to be distracted by the fact that the Theban hoplites are wearing Ray-Bans and Rolexes, I also don't want to drift off while being impressed that the director got the length of Emperor Julian's beard correct.

"Joey, do you like movies about gladiators?"
- Captain Oveur from "Airplane"

5. Finally, a "Gayness Factor" of "Not-So-Gay", "Kinda Gay", and "Fuh-laaaaay-ming!" assigned to it. Not that there's anything wrong with that. The Gayness Factor does not impact the movies overall rating. It's just there to reflect the fact that some of these films have might have been made with 10% of the male population in mind.

Alrighty, now that we have our rules, we can get moving. Next time, I'll pick two films and we'll get to judging.

This Tuesday, members of the Green Party will caucus to choose a Presidential nominee from between the following candidates, three quarters of whom have names which sound like porn stars: Jesse Johnson, Kent Mesplay, Kat Swift, and (embarrassing as this is) Cynthia McKinney

The cop-slapping Cynthia McKinney? Cynthia "The Bush Administration was behind 9/11" McKinney? Cynthia McKinney with the Jew-hating dad? Yes, that Cynthia McKinney.

Maybe my fellow Greens figure that since the craziest candidate always seems to win in a National election, McKinney is guaranteed a landslide?

As for me, I'll be voting for "no candidate". We Greens can do better. We must do better.

For men, it's simple: all heterosexual men are hardwired to mate with Daisy from Rock of Love II. For straight women, things are a little more complicated. You see, women are hardwired to either mate with the burly guy who can bring down a woolly mammoth, the brainy guy who can organize a woolly mammoth hunt, or Mick Jagger.

By "or Mick Jagger" I mean "or the tribal shaman". Deep in our ancient past, some men quickly realized that they were to scrawny to be good a hunting and dumber than the rock they were sitting on, but smart enough to know that they wanted to mate with as many of the local proto-Daisies as possible. So these long-haired freaks set about chanting while banging bones on the cave wall and generally convincing the rest of the clan that they possessed magical powers. And thusly religion and rock ‘n' roll were born at the same time and have been locked in a life-or-death struggle ever since.

So where do the Ben Steins and Mike Huckabees of the world come from? Well, occasionally the Village Idiot would get lucky.

No, Ben Stein didn't choke to death on bull semen, but "The Anonymous Collection" may be found here

OK, let's start with the biggest news to hit Philly since since it was discovered that Betsy Ross was really a dude: Our Year of Evolution kicked off on Saturday! I don't think I could possibly be prouder of my hometown right now (although I might be even prouder when Pat Robertson issues a fatwa on Philly). Although I started writing letters a year or two ago asking (begging) for an event like this, I can't take the credit. I will, however, do my best to celebrate by posting as many evolution-specific posts as possible.

Speaking of pride, tomorrow should be the day when the good folks at hat industrie(s) post pictures of RATYHTL's tiny plastic Roman army. Stay tuned for details.

Finally, CNN.com has swiped a page from the Weekly World News' playbook and started selling t-shirts featuring headlines from the site. This would be a great idea, if CNN would offer up t-shirts featuring all of their headlines, and not just the "cute" ones.

Seriously, which would you rather own, a t-shirt that reads "Prince drops copter in gal pal's yard" of one that proclaims "Dad mistakes young son for prey, shoots"?

No reports yet as to whether or not Fox News plans to sell "Islamic Schools Trick African Boys Into Begging" and "'Part of God's Plan': U.S. Pastor Given More Than 3 Years in Prison for Bringing Rifle Shells Into Russia" t-shirts.

"There was a time when reading wasn't just for fags. And neither was writing. People wrote books and movies. Movies with stories, that made you care about whose ass it was and why it was farting. And I believe that time can come again!" - Pvt. Joe Bowers

Where were we? Oh yeah, how rural working-class Pennsylvanians devolved from a group of rustic intellectuals to the sort of backwoods motherscratchers who think there's a War on Christmas. The answer, as always, is "Cow, pigs, wars, and witches."

There once was a time in this great country of ours, when blue-collar workers and white-collar workers used to make roughly the same amount of money. Then, one day in late Seventies, it's became pretty clear that a college education might be required for those not dreaming of a career in the Fast Food Industry. You see, the reason that rural working-class Pennsylvanians act like a bunch of dumbshits is because that helps to distinguish them from a group that they see, at least on a subconscious level, as economic competition.

Do you know the real reason why rural working-class Pennsylvanians began hunting? If you've got cows, pigs, corn, and chickens at home, do you really need to spend all day in the woods stalking a bear? The working-class began hunting as a way of emulating the European Aristocracy whom they considered intellectually superior (obviously they hadn't met many European aristocrats): This why hunting dogs - hell, all dogs - used to have names like Cerberus and Hannibal. Today rural working-class Pennsylvanians hunt mainly because they believe that hunting pisses college-educated Liberals. And nearly every mutt in the land has a name like "Mr. Fluffy McSnugglenose."

And college-educated Liberals are just one of the groups that rural working-class Pennsylvanians see as economic competition. Hillbillies claim that they hate Gays because homosexuality is "agin' the Bible", but so are many of the staples of rural life, like divorce, incest, and alcohol consumption, but when Merle Haggard dies (and I hope he lives forever) you won't see a bunch of Fundies picketing his funeral with "God Hates Divorcees"signs. Rednecks hate Gays because, as Richard Florida pointed out in Rise of the Creative Class, Gays are an economic Cinderella Story (which might explain the Bob Mackie gowns)

It's the same reason that you don't see any Rocket Scientists in the Klan. White Rocket Scientists aren't competing against Black Rocket Scientists for grants. There are plenty of slices of the Rocket Scientist pie to be passed around, but poor Southern whites saw newly freed Black as economic competition. That whole "Them darkies looked at my Effie Sue and made"was a convenient and easily understandable excuse.

So the next time you're sitting in a bar just outside of Pittsburgh downing a PBR with a unemployed steel-worker, and he starts to rant about how Gay Black Muslims are using the Liberal Media to take away his gun so that he won't be able to defend Christmas, just explain to him that his fears are actually rooted in deep-seated economic concerns. I'm sure he'll understand.

"Just because you're not handling snakes, speaking in tongues, and fucking your cousin in an outhouse, that doesn't necessarily make you an elitist." - Nathan E. Bulwar-Lytton, elitist

Our story so far: Apparently, Barack Obama has read Thomas Frank's What's The Matter With Kansas and dared to ask the question that the rest of us have been asking for years, leading hundreds of reporters who are white, but who didn't grow up working-class in rural Pennsylvania to comb rural Pennsylvania for comments from the working-class. As someone who not only white and grew up in the working-class, but also lived the first eighteen years of my life in rural Pennsylvania and am one of the most bitter people alive, I feel uniquely qualified to comment.

Rural, working-class Pennsylvanians are bitter because, deep inside, they know that they are the largest concentration of dumbshits ever gather in one location, and that they have no one to blame for their woes but themselves.

Oh, there was once a time when the average rural Pennsylvania sod-buster or steel-worker knew a thing or two about a thing or two. I grew up around people who never attended college yet could talk for hours (nonstop) about history, or psychology, or economics - and I don't mean any of this "the earth is 2,600 years old" or "I don't care what then know-it-all doctors say; that child's not schizophrenic: she's possessed!", or "yep, that tax break for that feller what owns the factory should be a tricklin' down to me any day now" horseshit either!

Next time, I'll explain just how rural Pennsylvanians got so stupid in the first place.