Gee, I am sure glad they cleared that one up.

In case anyone was curious, or perhaps in doubt, it would seem that a new study confirms that a vast majority of university faculty claim to be "liberal."

In case you needed proof

Robert Lichter, a professor at George Mason University and a co-author of the study apparently find most shocking the fact that there is not a single discipline at the Univeristy level which can boast a majority of conservatives.

Apparently, now hold your breath because this is really going to come as a shock to you, Literature and Philosophy faculty were…..the most liberal.

Oh, and another point, the better the university, the more liberal its faculty is. This is um…well…not actually all that interesting.


Have no fear, Terri Schiavo. Where the courts, Congress, and state government have failed you, a white supremacist ex-Green Beret will succeed.

For those of you who don't get as much pleasure from observing the right-wing lunatic world as I do, James "Bo" Gritz is a former Green Beret who is a prominent figure in the survivalist gun-nut world. He gained fame in the late 80s for founding the Populist Party (for which he ran for President with David Duke as a running mate) and negotiating the surrender of the members of the Weaver family that the ATF didn't manage to murder at Ruby Ridge. Oh, and he went on a crusade to locate and save fugitive abortion clinic bomber Eric Rudolph. He lives with some followers on a compound in Idaho called Almost Heaven. That's not creepy. Not at all.

His website is always good for a few shits-and-giggles, but now it prominently features an "essay" entitled The Passion of Terri Schiavo. Gritz was recently arrested in Florida for trying to break into Schiavo's hospice to give her water (apparently unaware that he'd fucking drown her if he poured it in her vegetative mouth). So as we can see, he is clearly committed to saving this woman's rich and full life. Some highlights:

The Florida Legislature passed a law allowing Governor Bush to save Terri's life. The Florida Supreme Court (voting 7-0) may have correctly over-turned the law. The U.S. high-court may have properly decided not to hear the case. Still, is it right in America for a probate judge to approve the execution of a helpless innocent human-being by starvation?

Um, what? In summary, "While the courts recognize that there is no legal basis for our argument, we're right anyway so let's…….." There's also a healthy serving of the unsubstantiated slander about how Schiavo is in a coma because her husband beat her. You may also enjoy some of Col. Gritz's non-vegetable related writings, a 1988 newsletter to his followers:

The number of the anti-Christ is 666, a six within a six within a six. Six sides, six angles, six points – the six-pointed star of Judaism.

Yes sir, the Schiavo supporters clearly have the moral high ground here. I would actually love nothing more than to see her die as a result of some of these idiots breaking into her hospice and jamming food and water down her catatonic throat.

Oh, and the punchline? Col. James "Bo" Gritz, champion of the sanctity of life, spent a month in the hospital in 1998 after he……wait for it……..attempted suicide by shooting himself in the chest. Why? Well, his upcoming trial for kidnapping probably had something to do for it.



We'll just have one mass shooting per week in exchange for the continued failure to address any of the problems related to gun control and violence in our society. Furthermore, they will continue in the current rotating order of courthouse (Federal offices of any kind are acceptable), church, and school (hospitals may be substituted in a pinch).

If the mass shootings violate their portion of the agreement by increasing in number to two or three per week, we'll consider reconsidering.


(Note: Unlike most people who have suddenly become very interested in Terry Schiavo, I've actually been following the case very closely for a number of years now. This is an excellent factual timeline for anyone who wants to get up to speed on things.)

Like Mark Wahlberg's character in I <3 Huckabees (who manages to turn every conversation, no matter how unrelated, into a diatribe about oil), anti-abortion activists have somehow made the case of a drooling vegetable into the flag-waving, magnetic-ribbon-applying, vigil-holding cause of the day.

Never mind the fact that the vegetable in question, Terri Schiavo, has no cerebral cortex and therefore, by definition, can't improve. Never mind the fact that there has never been a legal case in the history of our judicial system in which power-of-attorney for a married woman belonged to her parents rather than her spouse. Never mind the fact that the bullshit staged video of Terri "reacting" to her mother's visit with a smile is nothing more than a reflex that doctors observe her making 50 to 100 times per day with no stimulus (note how the video cuts just as she begins to listlessly slump off the bed – nice edit, mom and dad!). Never mind the fact that the parents' lawsuit is based on "irregularities in the State courts" when the courts have unanimously ruled against every legal position they've ever taken and not once ruled in their favor.

McGwire grunts to indicate that his colostomy bag is full while Curt Shilling (right) awaits his feeding tube

Irrespective of all that, Congress has subpoenaed her as a witness in a shameless (well, let's say downright pathetic) effort to meddle in a matter on which the law is perfectly clear. I sincerely hope she is kept alive long enough to appear before Congress, since Mark McGwire's testimony last week would make Schiavo the second vegetable to testify in one session. I would also like her unresponsive pseudo-corpse to be dragged out onto the floor of Congress so all those attempting to intercede on her behalf can take a look at the outstanding quality of life she leads.

This case has turned into a political football for anti-abortion activists who don't give two flying shits about this woman because she, like many young people, has no will. Had she taken that simple step, we wouldn't be watching Randall Terry's nauseating mug hog the camera as he rambles on about the sanctity of life (which apparently extends into death to include "brain death" as well).

Let ginandtacos never make such a mistake. This post will serve as a legally binding declaration of our final wishes in case illness or injury leaves us in a vegetative state.

Specifically, our foremost wish is that Tom DeLay and Jeb Bush do not get any political mileage out of us. Please, for the love of God, pull the fucking plug before they can start printing my name on little crosses and ribbons. Smother me with a pillow. Feed me arsenic. Drop a piano on me. Because really, let's get one thing straight – a brain dead person who can't sustain basic metabolic functions without constant assistance is dead. And it is our fondest wish upon being in such a state that our lifeless bodies not lay before Rick Santorum as he argues otherwise.

The Stunning End to a Fantastic Pair of Pants.

With little to no fanfare in the EBAY community, last week a pair of silver vinyl pants were sold by

Initially, I was saddened to see that one Mr. Burmila would decide to part with such a valued historically significant pair of silver vinyl (possibly from Hot Topic but if my memory serves purchased at Gadzooks) pants. I figured there must be some logical explanation. Perhaps it is some kind of benefit auction? Since the bidding has now stopped, we might never know.

What we do know is as follows:

The year was 2000, or possibly 2001. Actually I am pretty sure it was 2001. The date is insignificant. The location was CO Daniels. You see, at the time Mike and I both lived in Champaign. Ed Burmila lived in Madison Wisconsin (in a house with an amazing little bitch named Toby….at an address that to the best of my knowledge is still listed as the corporate headquarters). Fairly regularly Ed would flee from Toby and come and visit Mike and myself. About once a year we would decide that it would be funny to go out to Kams or CO Daniels for the evening- as a point of reference, this was never fun and or funny.

One particular time that this occurred we decided that we needed to either attempt to fit in or look ridiculous. I honestly can't remember the motivation. However, the result is firmly affixed in my brain.

mike purchased an exceptionally expensive pair of green pants (which he later returned) and a comic book t-shirt. I bought a pair of black vinyl pants and a Black Flag t-shirt. And Ed, Ed bought a System of a Down t-shirt and a pair of….that’s right, silver vinyl pants.

Your eyes aren’t deceiving you Ed, we have a picture of you in the pants thanks to Sylvia Rios

We wore these outfits to CO Daniels. We did not fit in, we did not have fun. We however decided that we did need to fit in. We proceeded to go to the campustown dance "club" Orchid- what is now Tonic, where, and I am not kidding I believe we all received compliments on our pants.

So now, in 2005…four or five years after this fateful night took place, Ed was the last remaining owner of his pants. Mike of course returned his- which was his plan all along- and I…well I must admit to frequently getting drunk and wearing my vinyl pants. They were cheap, they basically self destructed in a couple months.

Now some guy from Ebay is the proud owner of the silver pants. The frightening thing is that this man is one of the most disreputable Ebay patrons I have ever seen. He goes by the name r.not and has only three current feedback entries all of which are negative. Although I can't look at any of these auctions directly, I can only assume that they were all for "gothic" pants or shirts.

Ginandtacos is not making this up.

At one point or another in all of our lives we have been posed the question: What one item would you want to take with you to a desert island?

The motivation for asking such a thing typically ranges from innocent curiosity to some kind of perverse personality profiling. Regardless, all of us would no doubt put some thought into it, and decide on something like music or the like. However, I fear that far too few of us would have the foresight of one Mr. Oscar Goodman, the mayor of Las Vegas.

Mr. Goodman would bring…..


As much as you would like to think that we are, is not making this up. Mr. Goodman is so adamant about his love for gin that he actually proclaimed to a classroom of schoolchildren (yes, this really happened) that

drinking is one of his hobbies and that the one thing he would want if stranded on an island is a bottle of gin.

Mayor of Las Vegas kicking back at home with a glass of gin

Mr. Goodman responded to criticism by proclaiming that he did nothing more than tell the truth- beleiving that it would have been ridiculous for him to insinuate that he would bring anything other than gin. (a Teddy Bear or Bible were mentioned as non-viable dersert island gin alternatives.)

despite not wanting to take a teddy bear to a desert island one has been crafted to his likeness-complete with martini glass

The Mayor of Las Vegas's love of gin is no secret. He hosts regular "Martinis with the Mayor events" and is a sponsor of Bombay gin. (He was originally approached by Beefeater but Bombay out bid them). When asked by reporters after the incident if he has a drinking problem, Mayor Goodman responded:

"Oh, absolutely not. I love to drink"….then left the interview.

Despite the fact that there is no word as to the mayors opinions on tacos, I would like to stamp the seal of approval onto Mayor Oscar Goodman.

"I can’t think of anybody who has a racist thought on Darkie Day."

Alright, British readers. Off your high horses.

There's been a bit of a spat lately in the Isles by whom we were once goverened. Apparently the folks of the village of Padstow (which I can only assume is near Cowley, which is the area we Americans know as "the Alabama of Britain") have an annual tradition called Darkie Day. Yes, it means what you think it means. Everyone dresses up in blackface and "sings slave songs"/dances/does whatever those wacky negroes do. The event is approximately a century old….coincidentally enough it originated around the same time that American minstrel shows with blackfaced actors imitating "slave" song and dance appeared in the U.K.

Some people – whiny liberals, every one of them – have suggested that this is slightly racist. The people of Padstow certainly disagree.

Linda Reynolds, 50, of Padstow: “I have always gone out to Darkie Day. If it was even vaguely racist I would be the first one to stand up and shout. I was in a relationship with a black man. I can’t think of anybody who has a racist thought on Darkie Day. It’s a traditional event at which people get blacked-up. They are not imitating black people.”

The folks of the CPS, to their credit, have finally grown some balls – enough to at least do some saber-rattling about prosecuting the organizers of this event (which traditionally is used to raise charitable funds for the local church).

It is comforting to know that America is not the only country in which the white underclass of backward retards is willing to fight so hard for the right to be racist tools. It's good to see that they're willing to get in such an uproar over what's really important to them: trying to keep "darkies" in their place so that there's someone beneath the dumbass crackers of Padstow on the social ladder. If they would only redirect a small portion of that energy towards, oh, I don't know, learning to read or something, they might not have to worry about being the bottom of the British barrel.