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Archive for August, 2007

From TPM

This story in this morning’s Post about Green Zone authorities putting out ‘tip sheets’ about visiting Democratic lawmakers that read like they were written by the RNC is a really big deal. It’s all par for the course for this administration, how they’ve politicized every branch of the government and every agency, eroding democratic institutions in America while they pretended to build them in Iraq. In fact, from the start the White House tried to stock the Green Zone and the US occupation authority with GOP operatives. But I thought that had changed a little. This latest incident, though, should trigger a number of forced retirements and resignations.

Just a thought, but the Army might make a little more progress in Iraq if they devoted more resources to fighting the insurgency, and less to making up slam books on visiting congressional Democrats.



External hard drive?  Power cord?  You’re talking like a crazy person.

And Moondoggie…

King of All Media (control devices)

Mr. Anti-Peepers Returns

Posted by scott on August 31st, 2007


Kevin McCullough has taken note of our humble burlesque on his blog, ThrobbingManHead Rebellion, and has a few stern words for those snickering ne’er do wells who have taken all the fabulousness out of Kevin’s shopping sprees:

The so precisely titled “World-O-Crap” yoyos believe they are slicing and dicing me today with wounds that are near fatal…

(fake stumble, backwards, forwards, clutching of my heart) “No… how could it be…”

Complete with intimations of my lack of intelligence, closeted sexuality (again – geesh these people are so predictable, my gosh they have to be the least original people that God ever made…) and let’s see… and… oh yes – these perves think it completely acceptable to keep “peeping tom laws” from coming into existence. Oh and make sure you stay tuned at the end of the post to read the comments and see for yourself the ”brain trust” that reads a blog titled “World-O-Crap.”

World-O-Crap indeed…

Just for the record: We never opposed Peeping Tom laws per se, or in Kevin’s more elegant phrase, “think it completely acceptable to keep ‘peeping tom laws’ from coming into existence.”   We just believe it’s worth a few minutes out of the day to mock a blue-nosed, pearl-clutching local politician and his overbroad, unenforceable, and probably unconstitutional response to a situation that could be more efficiently and entertainingly remedied (as Julia noted in comments) by a skirt-clad woman with an insecure grip on her coffee cup.

In fact, while I have no objection to people saying flamboyantly stupid things behind closed doors, I must take issue with people like Kevin who believe there’s nothing wrong with engaging in this sort of behavior on the public internets.  And I say this not from a position of moral superiority, but as one who has himself succumbed to the temptation to look at Kevin’s oeuvre in a more than casual or cursory manner, for the purpose of entertainment, and for the purpose of degrading or abusing the person being read.

Therefore, I would suggest that Peter Vallone, Jr. pick up his wide ruled paper and his Sharpie and get to lawgivin’.

By the way, it should also be noted that Kevin has set a record here by making the venerable ”aptly named world o’ crap“ joke at least three times in a single post.  Something I don’t think anyone has ever bothered to do before.  Tres originale.

Well, That’s…Encouraging

Posted by scott on August 29th, 2007

From a Guardian story on the condition of Owen Wilson’s career:

Many Hollywood insiders believe Wilson’s setback will be short-lived and that he will continue to enjoy big-screen success.

“He’s loved,” Bernie Brillstein, a veteran Hollywood manager who worked with John Belushi and Chris Farley, said Tuesday.

Dirty Pretty Things

Posted by scott on August 29th, 2007

Townhall columnist, talk radio host, and frequent cable news guest Kevin McCullough has at last broken the silence, and spoken out about the greatest threat to America’s precious bodily fluids — the Manchurian Woman.

When liberals are given the choice between acting decently or choosing the riches of perversion – liberals prefer perversion. And if protecting the honor, privacy, and even nakedness of vulnerable women and children is juxtaposed to say the slightest possibility that someone’s right to practice perversion might be curbed – liberals will come running to the aid of the pervert. In fact liberals will go so far to protect perversion that they will actually enlist the use of potential victims to make the case, consequences to the unsuspecting females be damned!

Ladies, as you go about your day — squeezing the Charmin, thumping the melons, and carefully picking through the riches of perversion (because Choosy Mothers Choose Perversion), while trying your hardest to live up to your potential as a victim – do you ever even suspect that you’re hiding perverts behind your skirts when you refuse to protect nakedness?  No?  Well then I guess Kevin’s proved his point.

They will say it with a lawsuit. They will say it in print.

They will say it in a box. They will say it loud on Fox…

Liberals at their core have no sense of true north.

Granted.  Although I do have pretty good sense of True West, having seen it twice at the Cherry Lane Theatre with John Malkovich and Gary Sinise.

If you have ever dreamed of taking that fabulous shopping trip to New York City…

Note:  These are officially the gayest words ever written by someone who calls his blog “Musclehead Revolution.”

…you’d be advised to stay away. Because right now, this very minute, today…there is no law protecting the women you cherish in the dressing rooms of New York City boutiques, shops, department stores or even their hotel showers or bathrooms.

It’s a grim time for masculinity in America, when a man’s dream of a fabulous shopping spree is spoiled by the possibility of peepholes in the boutique fitting room.

Peter Vallone Jr. had been receiving complaints in his Queens district office for a number of weeks about a pervert who had been ordering a bagel and coffee every morning and then parking himself directly under the train platform vent for the N-line subway. This particular perve had a thing for looking up women’s skirts and he found it amusing to calmly eat his breakfast while stretching his neck to peep…

Vallone began to research the matter and discovered that the man was breaking no known law in New York. Incredulous at this dismaying fact the councilman drafted a resolution that would punish such behavior. As the New York Times put it:

The bill would make it illegal to look at a person’s “sexual or other intimate parts, in other than a casual or cursory manner, for the purpose of entertainment, sexual arousal or gratification, or for the purpose of degrading or abusing the person being viewed.”

Pretty straight forward right?  Not according to liberals.

The New York Civil Liberties Union (directly associated with the ACLU) issued a statement on Thursday calling the proposed legislation, “creepy lawmaking.”

Actually, I’d just call it “crappy lawmaking.”  Really, how far would this get before a judge irritably smacked it down like Sidney Greenstreet swatting flies at the Blue Parrot in Casablanca?  Someone might catch a glimpse of Kevin’s groin, for instance, and find its Ken Doll smoothness vastly entertaining, while others might find it merely repellent.  And what are these “other intimate parts,” of which the bill speaks?  The tender backside of the knee?  An errant lock of a Muslim woman’s hair?  Your bouncing and bobbing, undulating and ululating, quivering, pink, and oh-so-fleshy uvula?  Do we really want to make it as tough to find an eye-ear-nose-and-throat man in New York as it is to find an abortion provider in South Dakota?

Donna Liebermann the NYCLU’s executive director (and reportedly a female)…

Kevin used to take a woman’s word for it that she was female, but that was before he tried to hit on a waitress at Lucky Cheng’s.

…added her own sentiments saying, “The problem with this legislation is that it’s trying to get at this amorphous, vague behavior of looking, which is very imprecise…and the problem is that it’s an invitation to abuse, to selective enforcement based on the whims or prejudice of the individual police officer.” Adding, “What kind of a look is degrading, and therefore unlawful, who’s to say?”

Well Donna, any woman who’s ever been the slightest bit attractive could tell you. 

Don’t hate him because he’s beautiful.  There’s plenty of other reasons… 

It’s only “imprecise” if no one desires justice or decency for the privacy of women and children.

Hey, what about us men?  Don’t we rate protection from perverts spying on haberdashery changing rooms, creeps peeping at us in hotel showers, or senators peering into our toilet stalls in midwestern airports?

And it is impossible for it to be an invitation to abuse if men have their heads faced forward…

Unless there happens to be a woman in front of him. 

…and would perhaps bother to look women in the eyes. (Maybe Donna shops in New Jersey.)

…um…where men are required to wear head-immobilizing cervical collars when they go to the mall?

Liberals will profit mightily by giving aid to perverts, pandering to peeping toms, and giving sanctuary to 31 count indictees of child rape/executioners.

I just got my check today from the Peepers Guild!

They will do this as opposed to protecting the privacy of their own girlfriend, fiancé, wife, mother, or daughters.

And when necessary they will even brainwash women to make the case for them.

Well if the little be-ovaried darlings are that susceptible to suggestion, I guess they do need the strong, guiding hand of a man to protect them from forming legal opinions on pending legislation.

So which is more “creepy” – banning the perverts or defending them?

And have you stopped beating your dead horse yet? 

Have we really arrived at the day in which we have to ask such questions?

Turns out…No!  We don’t!  I’m afraid the whole thing was an elaborate practical joke at your expense, Kev.  And to make it even more ironic — you’re on Candid Camera!

Sanctuary? We Don’ Need No Steeking Sanctuary!

Posted by scott on August 28th, 2007

Pastor Doug Giles, Vicar of the Vagabond Inn, sayeth unto his flock that the banditos from Treasure of the Sierra Madre are a’coming to burn our homesteads, rape our cattle and stampede our women.

I have nothing against friendly foreigners who want to get the heck out of their banana republic and get a legal life over here in the land of plenty. I feel your pain, hombres. Well, not really. Actually, I have no idea what kind of gruel you have to slog through while I live on a marina in Miami next to a world-class golf course.

Just like Jesus did.  Although He was able to just step off his 46′ ketch and walk directly across the channel to the Pro Shop whenever he felt like knocking around a quick nine, whereas Doug, His humble apostle, has to take the long way through the reserved parking lot and around the Yacht Basin.

However, given the fact that you’re leaving your homeland in flippin’ droves, I’m guessin’ the place sucks like a ravenous Rosie working the fleshy remnants of a ripe mango seed.

The Rosie-is-fat joke has even less to do with the column than usual, but Doug has to protect his trademark.  (Whenever I get to the inevitable Dykes!  Adipose tissue! jape, I’m reminded of the end of a Jack Webb production, when a hammer wielded by a brawny, glistening forewarm would stamp out the Mark VII logo.)  Anyway, chunky lesbians aren’t the target of Doug’s blank-eyed verse today; he has browner fish to fry.

Look, if I were a Mexican living in Mexico, I too would be braving long walks through the desert and even swimming across the Rio Grande during flood stage. Why?

Because we like you!  Oh wait.  Anyhow, raise your hand if you believe Doug would risk getting his hair wet after he’d just applied a fresh coat of Kerastase Mousse Volumactive.

There are three reasons:

1. American TV is better. Have you seen the horrid Mexican stuff they torture their citizens with?

Yeah, who’d want to sit through crap like Yo soy Betty, la fea, when you could be watching Deal Or No Deal?  By the way, Doug, a lot of Spanish language television — at least, the kind you’re probably familiar with — is produced in and around Miami, so why don’t you go pound on your neighbor’s door and tell them to quit blowing their leaves in your yard and producing crap like Dame Chocolate?

2. I’d get sick of mariachis playing their big guitars and singing through their noses at me in restaurants.

Outside of the major tourists areas, your chances of avoiding this in Mexico are pretty good. But if you insist on immigrating, I’d suggest you steer clear of El Torito on Saturday nights. 

I like peace and quiet when I eat an enchilada with my lady.

Doug, despite his collection of cranberry Banana Republic shirts and religious devotion to tweezing, will be represented by the “Dud” card in “Mystery Date.”

I don’t want three chunky Julios butchering their guitars in my face, singing “Frito Bandito” at the top of their lungs while I’m masticating with my Maria in public. Comprende?

Comprendo.  And a friendly tip: if you want to hear the “Frito Bandito song” you’ll get better results requesting “Cielito Lindo.”  Also, it’s illegal in four Mexican states to masticate your Maria in public.

3. I want some money, honey. I’d be running north to the States through Gila monsters, prickly pear and javelinas…

Wow!  It’s just like that one !

…because after about a year of living La Vida Broka, I’d like to earn some real cash, dammit. Getting paid in drinking gourds, chickens and corn tortillas after pouring concrete for 18 hours a day in 119 degree heat would get real old muy quickly.

On the bright side, I hear that over the next two decades, Mexico is planning to slowly transition from a strictly barter-based economy and introduce some form of specie.

Yes, I would be looking across the border for the bigger, better deal for me and mi casa if I were an upright Mexican with kids to take care of. Who can blame them?

I’m gonna take a wild leap here and guess…You?

I’d also be looking to relocate in the States if I were a punk criminal/piece of Samsonite/worthless scum bucket/Darwinian holdover from anywhere in the world. Why? It’s quite obvious. America has more stuff and better stuff for the criminal’s clutches.

Criminals are marked by certain innate characteristics, among them: ambition, a tireless work ethic, and a Horatio Alger-like willingness to endure hardship in order to improve their circumstances.  Also, they can’t be hurt or scratched, even when a gorilla throws them around his cage.

Look, sombrero and donkey theft in Guadalajara is only fun for the first two, maybe three times, and after that the buzz wears thin. In America, however, there are all kinds of toys to steal and plenty of people, places and things to use and abuse.

Yep, there’s nothing in Latin America worth stealing except livestock and comical headgear.  Is it just me, or do you get the impression that the closest Doug has come to Mexico is the front counter at Taco Bell? 

In some cities if we catch you, the illegal alien, we won’t even report you or deport you. Isn’t that yummy?

“Yummy?”  What are you, Charles Nelson Reilly?  I think what you’re referring to, Doug, are the municipalities that prevent police from asking about the immigration status of people who are being questioned, but not arrested.  But rest assured, if you’ve been caught redhanded in non-donkey-related theft north of the border, the authorities are likely to get a little more inquisitive.  So you should probably just take a deep breath and relax before you really get wound up and start shouting epithets at your readers…

However, you must be careful, you chunk of thieving, raping, killing and gang-bangin’ crud, that you stay in a “Sanctuary City.” Indeed, in order to have a long and successful life of crime here in the United States of Anarchy, you, the felonious illegal freak, have to choose with precision the places to prey upon our people. If you don’t, you could (if caught in some municipalities) get sent back to Suckville and the old donkey thieving, mariachis and Mexican soap opera schlock. And you wouldn’t want that to happen now would you, señor?

While Doug wrote this paragraph, he paused periodically to choke the life from a Speedy Gonzalez plush toy.

You think your gardner is just a nice, hard-working guy?  Well here he is on his day off!

To help you in your evil and illegal existence here in the States, herewith is a partial list of craven, criminal-assisting cities to inhabit in order for you to carry out dirty deeds…

If arrested here, never fear; the local authorities won’t even ask you where you are from and if you are legal. You will not be deported. It’s a satanic dream-come-true for you poor little darlings.

Because the local ordinances of Cicero, Illinois, and Katy, Texas trump the power of the U.S. government.  Look how the Feds had to back off from enforcing the drug laws in states that passed medical marijuana initiatives.  Suck on that, DEA, while I suck on this joint!  HA!

Rest assured, demoniacs, that the Mayor McCheeses who lord over the sanctuary cities promise you the following if you get busted: no deportation and outrageously cheap bail.

I don’t think Mayors –even the famously iron-fisted alcalde of MacDonaldland — can set bail or deport people by fiat, although I so believe the Grimace is empowered to summarily execute anyone caught misappropriating a Shamrock Shake.

If convicted, they guarantee you stupidly short sentences, a nice education, some soft porn on cable, three squares a day, plus Pilates classes and…and…when you get out…they’ll let you stay in their city where you can screw them and us all over again.

Nice prisons they have in Chandler, Arizona.  Of course, these are the same things Doug’s congregation is required to provide him (not to mention frequent vacations, hunting trips, and sabbaticals), so my advice to the luggage-resembling, donkey-thieving demoniacs casting an envious gaze to the north is to forget slogging across the Rio Grande.  Just rent a ballroom at the Matamoros Holiday Inn and start your own church!  But get a J. Crew catalogue and some volumizing hair gel first.

“Have You Patronized Blasphemy Lately?”

Posted by s.z. on August 25th, 2007

I received an urgent communique today that begins as follows

Please help us get this information into the hands of as many people as possible by forwarding it to your entire email list of family and friends.

But I thought it would be more time-efficient to just post it here, since I consider you people my family and friends (at least, when it comes to sharing email from Don “The Wildman” Wildmon).  So, here you go — consider yourselves forwarded.

Have you patronized blasphemy lately?

Okay, it’s not as snappy as “Got Milk?” but I guess it could be part of an effective ad campaign on behalf of The National Blasphemy Council.

Free video from our friends at WayOfTheMaster.com clearly outlines how Hollywood hates Christianity… and Christians pay them to do it

So, this message is actually from our friend Kirk Cameron, who played Mike Seaver, the mischievous teen on “Families Are Swell” (or one of those other family sit-coms from the ’80s).  Now I know that it comes from somebody in Hollywood (who therefore presumably hates Christianity), I will pay it some attention!

Did you know that there was a time when the entertainment industry was bound by a code that forbade them from using any blasphemy in a movie?

Yes, I did know that.  And we call that time ”The Soviet Union.”

Just kidding.  We actually call that time “North Korea.”

The “Hays Code” stated:

“6. Miscegenation (sex relationships between the white and black races) is forbidden.”  And you no longer see enough prohibitions against that kind of thing in popular entertainment, which is why we need a return to the good old 1930’s, heyday of the universally loved Hays Code.

Well, I  have the flu, and am just not up to dealing with any more of Kirk’s missive, but here’s the rest of it if any of you film historians and/or Hollywood lowlifes want to tackle it.

Pointed profanity–this includes the words “God,” “Lord,” “Jesus,” “Christ” (unless used reverently), “Hell,” “S.O.B.,” “damn,” or every other profane or vulgar expression, however used–is forbidden.

Hollywood is no longer restricted by the code. Many of today’s movies don’t simply blaspheme the name of Jesus. They go one further. For example, the award-winning Blow, directed by Ted Demme, is a typical R-rated film. The name of Jesus Christ is blasphemed eleven times in the movie. Three of those times, for some reason, the “F” word is used in the middle of His name.

So, how can you (as one person), make a difference and influence the powerful Goliath of the entertainment industry? The answer is in your own hands. In 2005, roughly $8.8 billion was spent on movie tickets in the U.S. 

How much of $8.8 billion do you think came from those who call themselves Christians? According to The Barna Group, it was a massive $6.94 billion. Over 70% of the box office intake comes from people of faith.

With more than 170 million professing Christians in America, we have a powerful sling that can hit Hollywood between the eyes and leave a deep impression on its money-making mind.  They are causing an entire generation to hate Christianity, and to use the name of Jesus Christ to express disgust.  


1. Watch the video above, then forward to everyone on your list.
2. Make a personal committment from this point forward, to not watch movies that blaspheme God. If it happens in the theater, walk out. If it happens at home, change the channel.
3. Show this video to your circle of friends (Sunday school, youth group, entire church congregation).

Personally, I (as one person), am going to take some more flu medicine and then take a nap.  I urge you and your entire circle of friends and Sunday School class to do likewise.
P.S.  Since I just failed Kirk’s  Are you a good person? test. I think that after my nap, I will go out and kill some puppies or something befitting my status as the spawn of Satan.

FYI:  Here’s the first question from the test: 

1. “You shall have no other gods before me.”
Have you always put God first in your life? Jesus said to love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength– so much, that your love for your parents, brothers and sisters, friends, and even your own life is like hatred compared to your love and devotion for God. Have you ever failed to put Him first in your life?

Click on your answer below…

Yes, I have broken this commandment at least once.

No, I have NEVER broken this commandment in my life.

You know, I guess I just don’t hate my parents, brothers and sisters, friends, and own life enough to be a good person

Friday Beast Blogging — Feline Noir Edition

Posted by scott on August 24th, 2007



Your filthy windows are interfering with my voyeurism.

And Moondoggie:


I caught the blackjack right behind my ear. A black pool opened up at my feet. I dived in. It had no bottom.

Dear Dr. Mike…

Posted by scott on August 23rd, 2007


Especially when he writes it to himself! 

Do you ever find that when writing letters you suddenly turn into an intellectually dishonest Womens Studies professor with a large condom collection, a militant, man-hating lesbian with a bad case of penis envy, or a self-loathing homosexual with a scientifically-proven short lifespan?  Are you a smug hippie who never bathes, except in patchouli oil?  Have you ever wanted to confess your deepest, darkest sexual secrets to an Assistant Criminology Professor in order to help him prove what a slut you are?  Well this is your lucky day.  Because you could be Dr. Professor Mike Adams’ next imaginary correspondent!

David E. suggested in comments that “Letters to Dr. Mike could be a great feature,” and was kind enough to get the ball rolling with this classic example of the form:

Dear Dr. Mike,

I never thought this would happen to me, but…I was in my women’s studies class hating on the patriarchy and burning the papier-mache penis we’d made earlier in the semester, when all of a sudden in walked this strapping buck of a criminology professor. He had an enormous package…that he was bringing over to our lesbian professor from the post office. She snarled at him, as she usually did to male visitors, to get his manpaws off her property. He told her where she could stick it, and I just fell in love. I broke into his apartment and fell submissively before his feet begging him to show me the meaning of manliness. Together we worshipped Jeebus by tying a crossbeam to his mighty penis and nailing his hands to it. Later, when I lost my virginity (we removed the crossbeam, don’t worry!) to him, I renounced my lesbianism. I guess it’s kind of like Goldfinger, where Pussy Galore was a lesbian until she met the right man? I bet there’s someone out there for all those confused women.

In all fairness, writing a Townhall column the Dr. Mike way is extremely labor-intensive.  While it requires no research, fact-checking, or original thought, every specious point must be painstakingly corroborated by one, and sometimes two independent stereotypes — whether it’s a weepy co-ed who emails Dr. Mike about the lesbians flaunting their vaginas at her, the smarmy, aggressive leftist who picks a fight with Dr. Mike, then promptly folds in the face of the Professor’s Whiffle Ball-like bon mots, or a Muslim “friend” who arrives in the last paragraph to grudgingly admit that he and his kind really are scum.  It’s true that inventing the dramatis personae of a typical Dr. Mike column is fairly easy, since the templates were established long ago, and Dr. Mike needs only to pour a little invective into the Thingmaker-style injector molds, but it’s time-consuming, since he has to wait for his gays and sluts and radical feminists to cool before he can play with them.

So let’s lift the burden of making phony friends and besting apocryphal enemies from Dr. Mike’s frail shoulders.  Write Your Letter To Dr. Mike and post it in the comments. 

Be Dr. Mike’s New Pen-Pal!

Your Tuition Dollars At Work

Posted by scott on August 20th, 2007

Dr. Mike Adams, Ph.D, Adjunct Professor and Assistant Night Manager at the University of North Carolina-Wilmington, invites us audit his class.  Let’s listen in, shall we?

Welcome to UNC-Wilmington! My name is Dr. Adams and you are enrolled in CRJ 105 (Introduction to Criminal Justice). If you are in the wrong class, please get up and leave now – unless you’re majoring in Women’s Studies in which case you would be ostracized for leaving now. And, by the way, if you dislike bad puns you should also consider leaving this class.

If you’re a woman with a healthy respect for yourself and others, you should get up and leave now before Dr. Mike notices you (he’s like a dog — he can smell self-esteem) and attacks.  If you’re actually interested in the subject of Criminal Justice, you should definitely stay through the end of class so you can ask Dr. Mike to sign your drop slip.  And if you’re a guy who hopes to ever get laid, you can’t get out of this room fast enough.

Today I want to assure you that this year – freshman year for most of you –

“…because the upperclassmen are onto me, and aren’t falling for my patented ”I’m swamped, but you can drop by my office after hours” line anymore.

…will be among the most important years of your life. Many of you will choose a major and start heading down a career path that will bring you deep fulfillment and personal satisfaction. But, unfortunately, some of you will ruin your lives before the year is over.

“By listening to — and worse, believing — anything that comes out of my mouth after I utter the words, ’let me explain.’” 

Let me explain.


Almost every year at UNCW, I see a feminist professor or administrator (sometimes both) handing out condoms to students in the hopes that they will engage in “protected” sexual intercourse.

“Let me just save you some trouble. This doesn’t work.  (I’ve also tried handing out candy, grades, chloroform and Bacardi 151, but today’s students just can’t seem to take a frigging hint.”

The idea is twofold: 1) that a condom will prevent pregnancy and sexually transmitted disease, and 2) that as long as no one gets pregnant or gets an STD all is well. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Except my curriculum vitae.”

This box on my desk is not full of condoms. It is full of copies of the book “” by Dr. Miriam Grossman, a psychiatrist who wrote about her experiences working at the student health center at UCLA. The book tells many stories you need to hear – stories you will never hear from the censorious feminists who run the Women’s Resource Center. 

STUDENT:  Um, sir?  This is Introduction to Criminal Justice, right?  I mean, do you have a syllabus to hand out, or a required reading list, or –

DR. MIKE:  Shut up, you little turd!  I’m saving you from free condoms!

And while a book decrying political correctness and the perils of pre-marital intercourse seems like an odd text for an introductory Criminal Justice class, it’s consist of one-line encomiums from expert mental health professionals Dr. Laura Schlessinger, Danielle Crittenden, Mona Charon, and Jennifer Roback Morse, so it’s gotta be good.

For example, Grossman tells the story of one college freshman who started having uncontrollable crying spells. Her depression became so severe that she sought help at the student health center. It did not take long for the therapy sessions to reveal that her problem was a “friendship with benefits” she established during the fall semester. She and her casual sex partner had agreed that they would just sleep together without dating. But she was beginning to long for something more.

Fortunately, it’s impossible to feel unrequited love, or even to develop an emotional attachment to someone you haven’t had sex with.  As a result, young people who come to marriage with their virginity intact don’t fall in love with their spouse until after the wedding night, which makes it imperative that along with teaching abstinence in schools, we must revive the practice of arranged marriages, otherwise none of these kids are going to have any incentive to tie the knot with a comparative stranger they’re just not that into.

On the bright side, this does make therapy sessions much more brief and efficient, since there’s no other conceivable reason but sex for a freshman, away from home and dealing with the social and academic pressures of university life, to experience depression.  Crying co-ed = post-hook up self-loathing.  Prescribe chastity, bill Student Health Services for a 50-minute hour, and shout “next!”

Those espousing the radical feminist agenda at the university had told her that using condoms would protect her – this without any reference to the emotional consequences of casual sex. Such misguided advice is a consequence of a radical shift in feminist politics in recent years. After years of arguing truthfully that women and men are equal, feminists are now arguing falsely that women and men are identical. This is wreaking emotional havoc on young women on our college campuses who have become the pawns of intellectually dishonest feminists. 

And results in confused co-eds siting up in their dorm rooms into the wee hours, rooting around in their panties with increasing frustration for the penis and scrotum with which postmodern feminist theory assures them they’re equipped.

They are the latest casualties in a cultural war whose principal battlefield is the American college campus.

But Dr. Mike is no chickenhawk.  He’d love to enlist, but as this is a war fought with casual and frequent intercourse, the Selective Service has classified Dr. Mike as 4-F.

The same problems that Grossman saw at UCLA are also prevalent on other campuses. For example, this summer, I got a letter from a young woman who was experiencing deep pain as a result of her decision to abandon the values she grew up with and to adopt the values of the “hook-up” culture, which is the dominant culture on most college campuses. She was a virgin in her 18th year. Now, in her 21st year, her number of sex partners has almost caught up with her chronological age. And she is now beginning to learn that there is no condom for the heart.

Condom For The Heart, starring Veronica Hamel, Jamie Gertz, Yasmine Bleeth and Rebecca Gayheart.  Debuts Tuesday at 9 on Lifetime.

Isn’t it nice that troubled, imaginary young women trust Dr. Mike enough to confess their shameless sexual peccadilloes, knowing he would never expose them to censure and public ridicule in his Townhall column?

And men are also put at risk by those who would put political correctness above concern for student well-being.

How many bright young men, led astray by the false idol of feminism, have lost their lives in a vain effort to squeeze their heart into a condom?

This is especially true for gay men.

Oh good.  Dr. Mike is going to practice his love for the gays again.

If you are gay and engaging in anal sex, it is unlikely that you will ever see the words “anal sex” listed among the risk factors for contracting AIDS in any campus publication anywhere.

For instance, in the UCLA publication, Financial Aid Handbook, doesn’t mention anal sex even once, despite having 80% of the acronym AIDS right there in its title.  Case, as the Criminal Justice professor might say, closed.

Nor is it likely that you will ever hear these words mentioned by any professor discussing such risk factors in a relevant lecture.

Most academics are too politically correct to face the hard naked truth of anal sex, and when lecturing their students on risk factors will usually allude to “crack packin’,” or “gettin’ busy with the booty.”

But because your health and well-being is important to me – despite my religious opposition to your lifestyle – I want you to get better information than you are likely to get on this or any other college campus. I’ll start by offering you a copy of Dr. Grossman’s book. If you need additional information, I’ll send you somewhere off campus to ensure that you will get accurate information.

Remember gay students, Dr. Mike is your best friend, because only he cares enough about your well-being to meet you somewhere off campus — perhaps in a dimly lit room – and read you explicit passages about anal sex in an increasingly wheezy voice.

Finally, today, in addition to encouraging you to, at the very least, avoid casual sex outside of a committed relationship, I want to encourage you to join a local church. I personally attend a church called Port City Church located less than a mile from UNCW. Please consider my invitation to come visit us any time.

You may recall that last time we visited with Dr. Mike, he was trying to browbeat his friend “Scott” into attending Port City Church, too.  It may be that the Professor is bursting with evangelical zeal and home church pride, or it may be that his congregation meets alternately at a middle school, and a derelict movie theatre, and they’re trying to raise $14 million for a building, so the more people kicking into the collection plate, the better.

Regardless of your religious affiliation, please don’t allow the official campus religion of moral relativism to invade your mind, your body, and your soul. It happened to me 24 years ago. I’m still recovering from it today.

I know the 12 Steps are hard, and I don’t want to dispute anyone’s assertion that they’re recovering, even from being an asshole, but it’s pretty apparent that Dr. Mike’s fallen off the wagon again.