Build Date: Tue Feb 11 21:40:10 2025 UTC
You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.
-- Dean Martin
FUCK Your Bourgeois New Year! I Choose Liberty
2001-12-31 16:48:47
Around the globe tonight bloated plutocrats and their lackeys celebrate the grinding wheel of a NEW YEAR of the OPPRESSOR rolling over the bones and sinews of FREE MEN everywhere. But for the true friends of FREEDOM, it's just another 12th of Nivose. Beaujolais to that!
You and your loved ones may already be making preparations for the meaningless passing of another Gregorian year. It's absurd and demeaning -- this whole calendar thing we've got going on is the calendar of TYRANNY over MEN'S MINDS. The Gregorian calendar is the CALENDAR of THE MAN! No one with the true fire of LIBERTY in their heart and the light of REASON in their mind could bow to this asswipe annual turning of the screw.
I mean, the Western calendar as we know it -- its wonked-out months and half-ass arbitrary start -- is the product of IMPERIAL POWER. It was originally based on the superstitious gawping of shovelheaded militaristic mouthbreathers of Ancient Rome -- dickeyed together to honor IMAGINARY PAGAN GODS with SUPPLICATION and DISGRACE. On top of that, as the CORPULENT BLOOD-GORGED PARASITIC emperors grew heady with the stink of burning human flesh, they fashioned themselves as GODS in THUG FORM and crowbarred in new months to honor their own greasy selves.
And don't even get me started on the so-called 7-day week. THOR, ODIN, and TIW? My reason is bruised at the very thought.
To celebrate the passing of a new year based on today's oppressors is repulsive. To celebrate the year of ANCIENT LONG-DEAD MEGALOMANIACS is positively insane. Who CARES about Julius Caesar and his creepy bastard nephew Octavius? Who gives a ROMAN RAT'S ASS about the Gracchi or their ilk? I give them NOTHING except the flashing of my hairy white freedom-loving ASS.
No, it's positively impossible. The Julian calendar -- revised minutely centuries ago by a man who thought himself IMBUED by GOD with INFALLIBILITY -- is a sick joke unworthy of the most minor consideration by anyone with a lick of sense. It cannot be done! It cannot!
That is why true freedom-lovers turn to the only calendar built with LIBERTY in mind: the French Revolutionary Calendar. Developed by SCIENTISTS and POETS in a unique combination of REASON and BEAUTY, the FRC is rational and appropriate. No bastardized half-months jammed in to the calendar here! Every month in the Revolutionary calendar has 30 days -- no more! No less! Easy to remember! 3 weeks of 10 days each, every month! No exceptions!
On top of that, the months commemorate the natural world and the work of EVERYMAN. And the 5 (or 6) days left over are festivals that pay tribute not to long-forgotten god-beings but to humanity's finest qualities: reason, genius, virtue, and revolt.
The revolutionary new year starts not on some cold blustery non-event day like 12 Nivose, but on the autumnal equinox -- a yearly beginning that marks the true nature of a year in the earth's revolution. Days split into 10 hours of 100 minutes apiece, each in turn made up of 100 seconds! Celebrations of the Real World, and of FREEDOM and LIBERTY.
So screw this boring new new year! Vive la Republique! Fraternity, liberty, equality, and Beaujolais for the Calendar Nouveau!
T O P S T O R I E S
The Future Ain't What It Used To Be
Ideas have taken horrifying shape and rooted into our modern reality. (More...)
The Once & Future King of Dust
Only The Onion could have acquired Infowarts. (More...)
Another Nobel Prize-Winning Author Describes Drunkenness
This book won a Pulitzer Prize. Here's its famous paragraph on getting drunk... (More...)
Why I'm pretty sure JD Vance had sex with a couch
True or false? The answers await us in that magical land where all truths are revealed -- the internet. (More...)
In 2010 Dr. Cheng-Huai Ruan discovered a way to cause a patient with an abnormal heartbeat to get back into a normal rhythm by sticking a finger up the patient's ass. (More...)
WKRP in Cincinnati aired from 1978 through 1982. Howard Hesseman played Dr. Johnny Fever, a DJ from Los Angeles who was fired from his previous job for saying the word "booger" on the air. In the show Hesseman would do some dialogue, introduce a song, and start the song. You'd hear a few notes, but never the whole song. (More...)
C L A S S I C P I G D O G
Datelined "Historic Mariposa," the fateful press release came in like an angry wind, announcing the release of a self-produced album, "Ordinary Hero," by occasional Pigdog contributor Thom Stark, in the language and tone of a Major Event, setting off a brief firestorm around the pigdog mailing list. (More...)
40 Acres, a Mule, and a Crummy 90-Second Spot on Weekend Update
Consider the plight of the Black Man. The Black Man on "Saturday Night Live," I mean. Has there ever been a more pathetic thing than a token unredeemed for 28 years? Where is the NAACP when you really need them? (More...)
WE'RE STILL TOTAL LOSERS JESUS
Mr. Bad, Tjames Madison, and various other Pigdoggers of all stripe take on the makers of JERKCITY in a PIGDOG INTERVIEW DEATHMATCH. (More...)
Last week I had eye surgery and it was certainly one of the least enjoyable episodes of my life. Eye Surgeons like their patients to be conscious enough so that they can move their eyes to the proper position during surgery. (More...)
A Day in the Life of a Beverotologist
It was starting to look like a very boring Saturday, trapped as I was in the suburban wastelands of the outer Bay Area, so I called my Able Assistant (AA) and proposed that we perform some Spocktail field tests. For some time I've been working on creating the quintessential cinematic beverage and even tho' SMRL does most of its testing during nocturnal hours, this seemed an opportune time to roll up the sleeves of our labcoats and get some science done. While the beverotology creation tested this day (The Neurotoxin) must be deemed a success, this article focuses more the journey of the experimenters, rather then the science of beverotology. (More...)
Three Days and 25 Spocktails: A Cautionary Tale
Johnnie Royale picked me up from the dental surgery. I felt warm, safe, cradled in the anathesia's loving embrace. The pharmacy downstairs gave me a bottle of Vicodin and a few instructions: take it with food, don't mix with alcohol, don't operate heavy machinery. I put it in my pocket and we left. "Do you want to go home, or do you want to go to a bar?" asked Johnnie. (More...)
