Amanda Bieber: Worst Person in the World

THE FOLLOWING are selected tweets from notorious Twitter troll Amanda "@MandaSwaggie" Bieber. As they are deeply graphic in nature, reader discretion is advised. If you cry into and/or vomit on your keyboard, ruining it in the process, Highland Liberation Army is exempt from any replacement fees. That said, we encourage you to vomit and cry, for humanity is so, so fucked. At least we all only have a few months left, because if this is what things are coming to I'm drinking all of Jim Jones' Kool-Aid.

(You proud? I CAN USE FANCY HIPSTER JOURNALISTIC TOOL! #ItsWhyIGetLaidSoMuch #JournalismIs4Rockstars)

Yoshimi Battles The Purple Japandroids

Good day, reader. Right now I bet you're surrounded by vaguely sad middle-class white people. America! One of those vaguely sad middle-class white people is probably you. Awesome! I am too. Let's distract ourselves from taking any action to improve our mediocre lives by writing/reading/vacantlystaringat another paragraph.

We at HLA have given up any current or future attempts at prolific posting here, as every time we promise we fail miserably, though this time I got like two weeks in or something. Understand that this blog will forever remain at the periphery of your Intertube-perusing activities.

Now is the point where you ask yourself why the hell you kept reading this far. I said nothing you didn't already know. I am sorry for this. I don't say anything I don't already know, which is why this blog is so shitty. So go on your way to download some good gifs, drink a warm bottle of wine, even listen to that shitty fun. album if you must. Just remember that I ♥ U. Forever.

Smart People Discuss Politics

"You know, I think it’s about envy. I think it’s about class warfare. When you have a President encouraging the idea of dividing America based on the 99 percent versus 1 percent—and those people who have been most successful will be in the 1 percent—you have opened up a whole new wave of approach in this country which is entirely inconsistent with the concept of one nation under God. The American people, I believe in the final analysis, will reject it." - Mitt Romney

"Taking a quick trip through Twitter reveals that the same people who don't trust the government to verify that their food, drink and pharmaceuticals aren't deadly, to teach their children or to administer their healthcare are—as is the case with at least 100,000 Iraqis and counting—absolutely king-shit stoked to let the U.S. government decide when to murder the fuck out of non-white people." - Mobutu Sese Seko

"It is considered declasse in our higher politics to mention this, but there actually is a class war underway in America, and it doesn't need politicians to stoke it. It happens in millions of battles every day, over mortgages, and college loans, and retirement, and the granite-like impassibility of the country's elites in the face of what's happening to the great mass of people. Now, it's possible that our firmly purchased political system may be able to continue to divert the energies of that war in the directions most amenable to maintaining the status quo. (Blame the black people, the regulators, the drum circles, public school teachers, the Community Reinvestment Act, Van Jones!) But, sooner or later, someone's going to be desperate enough - or bold enough - to grab that energy and ride it to glory, and we all better goddamn hope that person has a good heart, because those kind of things can go awfully badly wrong. What the Wall Street casino is playing with is not house money. It belongs to all of us. They are gambling not merely with currency, but with the stability of the political system. Someone is going to pay." - Charlie Pierce

- Yours Truly

Day 26: The Pussycat Dolls of Basketball

(Those Euro 2012 previews I promised? FUCK 'EM - go read these instead. Mr. Zonal Marking has forgotten more about football than I will ever know. Now, on to more pressing matters...)

The Miami Heat are not two, not three, not four, not five, not six, not seven, but one game away from playoff elimination. 

Let's bask in the schadenfreude for a bit. 

Ready to go on? Hold on just one more second . . .

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THE HEAT FUCKING SUCK. MAYBE IT WAS ALL KIND OF PREDICTABLE. I MEAN BASKETBALL THIS IS A TEAM SPORT RIGHT YOU NEED TO HAVE FIVE BODIES ON THE COURT AND THREE CAN BE REALLY FUCKING AWESOME BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER IF THE FOURTH AND FIFTH ARE WARM CORPSES KNOWN AS "SHANE BATTIER" AND "JUWAN HOWARD." 

TOO BAD THE TEAM IS IN THE HANDS OF A VAGUELY ASIAN VIDEO EDITOR WHO KNOWS WAY MORE ABOUT iMOVIE THAN DEFENDING THE PICK AND ROLL. YOU CAN HAVE THREE GREAT PLAYERS AVAILABLE BUT NO ONE OF THEM GOT A BOOBOO ON HIS TUMMY A FEW WEEKS AGO LET'S NOT CAPITULATE TO HIS DEMANDS TO PLAY AND LEAVE HIM ON THE BENCH THE WHOLE FOURTH QUARTER. 48 MORE MINUTES TILL YOU BETTER LEARN TO SURF MIAMI CRAIGSLIST COACH SPO.

AND REALLY, THE MIAMI HEAT? DAVID STERN, MASTER CONSPIRATOR, YOU COULDN'T FIND A WAY TO BRING THESE ONCE-IN-A-GENERATION TALENTS TO A CITY THAT ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT BASKETBALL? GAMES IN MIAMI ARE LIKE WEIRD KKK RALLIES. JUST 20,000 OLD CAUCASIANS ALL GATHERED CLOSE TOGETHER AND DRESSED IN WHITE TO REACT WITH INDIFFERENCE TO THE AMAZING ATHLETIC FEATS OF NINE SUPREMELY TALENTED AFRICAN AMERICANS AND MIKE MILLER. THE WEIRD THING IS YOUR COLOR SCHEME DOESN'T EVEN INCLUDE WHITE, BUT IT DOES HAVE A BUNCH OF PRIMARY COLORS, JUST LIKE EVERY UNCREATIVE AFRICAN NATION EVER. THE ONLY REASON YOU DON'T BELONG ON THE SAME COURT AS THE CELTICS IS BECAUSE YOUR UNIFORM IS SO UGLY.

REALLY YOU'RE JUST THE PUSSYCAT DOLLS OF BASKETBALL. NICOLE SCHERZINGER/LEBRON JAMES, THEY'RE OK, SUPPORTING CAST, MEH. A REALLY HOT SOLO ARTIST AND FIVE UNTALENTED AND AVERAGE LOOKING WHITE GIRLS A SUPERGROUP DOES NOT MAKE, AND NEITHER DOES LEBRON JAMES AND DWYANE WADE AND CHRIS BOSH AND FUCKING NORRIS COLE AND JOEL ANTHONY. 

BUT AT LEAST ALL THE MEDIOCRE TALENT OF PCD CAME TOGETHER FOR ONE SUBLIME MOMENT. THE HEAT CAN ONLY WISH TO PRODUCE SUCH A PERFECT ARTISTIC EMBODIMENT OF HUMANITY'S ETERNAL JEALOUSY OF HOT GIRLS. 

SMH, MIAMI HEAT. AS MUCH AS I HATE YOU, I KIND OF HOPE YOU WIN JUST SO ESPN CAN SHUT UP ABOUT YOU. HAHAHAHAHAHA NO, I TAKE THAT BACK, I HOPE YOU LOSE ON THURSDAY AND EVERY GAME NEXT SEASON AND GET BANISHED TO A REUNION TOUR IN CLEVELAND. I DON'T WISH THAT TYPE OF PUNISHMENT ON MANY, BUT IF ANYONE EVER DESERVED THAT, IT'S YOU LOSERS. GO FUCK YOURSELVES. 

(This may all seem a bit harsh, Miami, but you should know this is my favorite song. #GoFINS)

Day 25: Euro 2012 Preview, Part Un

(Editor's Note: While American football forever remains our favorite game here at HLA, futbol is now a close second. In this spirit, we bring you a comprehensive preview of this year's European Championships, starting this Friday in beautiful Ukraine and scenic Poland. We look to highlight each team and the overpaid metrosexuals that compose them. You will be enthralled. Trust us.)

* * *

GROUP A PREVIEW

Group A features four of Europe's most outstandingly mediocre sides. Let's go through what little we know about them, starting with...

Russia - Russia is to Group A as Nick Carter is to the Backstreet Boys*: the best of a fairly dismal lot. The world took notice of the Russians after their advancement to the semifinals of the 2008 edition of this very competition; soon after, everybody started sucking and the Fightin' Putins couldn't beat fucking Slovenia for a World Cup berth. Alas, Russia is still the overwhelming favorite here because at least they have a few players most people have heard of before, even if only in contexts such as "Andrei Arshavin fucking sucks!" and "Pavlyuchenko, 'bout time you scored a goal you cunt!" and "you really want me to say Pogrebnyak?"** Yes, Arshavin fucking sucked, but at least he was up against some of the world's best at Arsenal; Russia's experience against quality competition will ensure they advance past these three not-so-quality opponents.
Chance of advancing - 87 percent.

*Yes, a Backstreet Boys analogy. One Direction would be the more timely reference, but fuck them - will any of their little brothers will ever make a song this awesome? I THINK NOT.
**Steve McManaman only.

Greece - While Russia did well in this tournament four years ago, Greece won the whole damn thing four years before that. The Greeks' shocking 2004 triumph after a series of brutal 1-0 victories pissed off, well, pretty much everybody, as a) nobody outside of Greece actually roots for Greece, and b) nobody roots for a boring underdog. That's the role Greece continues to play, using soccer's equivalent of the flexbone offense, the catenaccio, an old Italian tactic whose followers eschew trying to score goals in order to prevent opponents from doing so. Futbol has enough boring stretches as is - a team that doesn't even try to score seems a fundamental disgrace to the game. Catenaccio may give the game a bad name, but it also gives overmatched sides like Greece and Ireland a fighting chance - which Greece certainly has in this average group.

Chance of advancing - 46 percent.

Czech Republic - Maybe they advance if Petr Cech stops every shot. Considering the low quantity and quality of the shots that will come from Greece and Poland, this is a distinct possibility. The Czechs don't look strong at all, but organization and strong goalkeeping - things they surely do have - could well be all they need to advance here.

Chance of advancing - 37 percent

Poland - Oh, Poland, land where my father's mother's fathers died. You would never be in this tournament if you hadn't been chosen to host it as a favor for your fervent support of UEFA's latest corrupt power brokers. All of your good players claim German citizenship through their father's grandpa's second cousin, leaving the remaining hopeless dregs to represent your hopeless dreg of a nation. I still love and support you, Poland - that is, until you start losing and Germany starts winning. Like Miroslav Klose and Lukas Podolski, you can bet I'll jump ship soon after.

Chance of advancing - 30 percent

* * *

That's all for now - join us tomorrow for discussion of actual, talented futbol teams (Germany, The Netherlands, Portugal and Denmark) in our Group B preview!

Day 18-24: We Try Again

Woops.

Turns out I'm a lazy motherfucker who can't come up with any more topics to pompously discuss. You, the reader, understood this far before I.

But you, the reader, will have to start dealing with it again, if you wish, as I'm gonna try this thing again. We will talk about Euro 2012! We will preview the coming year in SEC football! We will discuss generally uninteresting liberal artsy things too!

I see that boner in your pants, reader. Don't worry. You should be that excited.

Day 16-17: The Fat Lady

“I remember about the fifth time I ever went on ‘Wise Child.’ I subbed for Walt a few times when he was in a cast–remember when he was in that cast? Anyway, I started bitching one night before the broadcast. Seymour’d told me to shine my shoes just as I was going out the door with Waker. I was furious. The studio audience were all morons, the announcer was a moron, the sponsors were morons, and I just damn well wasn’t going to shine my shoes for them, I told Seymour. I said they couldn’t see them anyway, where we sat. He said to shine them anyway. He said to shine them for the Fat Lady. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but he had a very Seymour look on his face, and so I did it. He never did tell me who the Fat Lady was, but I shined my shoes for the Fat Lady every time I ever went on the air again—all the years you and I were on the program together, if you remember. I don’t think I missed more than just a couple of times. This terribly clear, clear picture of the Fat Lady formed in my mind. I had her sitting on this porch all day, swatting flies, with her radio going full-blast from morning till night. I figured the heat was terrible, and she probably had cancer, and—I don’t know. Anyway, it seemed goddam clear why Seymour wanted me to shine my shoes when I went on the air. It made sense.”

Franny was standing. She had taken her hand away from her face to hold the phone with two hands. “He told me, too,” she said into the phone. “He told me to be funny for the Fat Lady, once.” She released one hand from the phone and placed it, very briefly, on the crown of her head, then went back to holding the phone with both hands. “I didn’t ever picture her on a porch, but with very—you know—very thick legs, very veiny. I had her in an awful wicker chair. She had cancer, too, though, and she had the radio going full-blast all day! Mine did, too!”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. All right. Let me tell you something now, buddy . . . Are you listening?”

Franny, looking extremely tense, nodded.

“I don’t care where an actor acts. It can be in summer stock, it can be over a radio, it can be over television, it can be in a goddam Broadway theatre, complete with the most fashionable, most well-fed, most sunburned-looking audience you can imagine. But I’ll tell you a terrible secret—Are you listening to me? There isn’t anyone out there who isn’t Seymour’s Fat Lady. That includes your Professor Tupper, buddy. And all his goddam cousins by the dozens. There isn’t anyone anywhere that isn’t Seymour’s Fat Lady. Don’t you know that? Don’t you know that goddam secret yet? And don’t you know—listen to me, now—don’t you know who that Fat Lady really is? . . . Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It’s Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy.”

For joy, apparently, it was all Franny could do to hold the phone, even with both hands.

- Franny & Zooey, JD Salinger 

Finished reading this for the second time today. Hated it the first. Realized how wrong I was.

Say what you will about his characters (too neurotic?) and his themes (too juvenile?) Make what you will of his vanishing act. A great writer does not work from some lofty perch of moral or intellectual authority. Great art comes not from above humanity but from within. And this is a guy who chronicles all that lies within a soul better than almost anyone else. Holden Caulfield was not at all like you - and yet you related to him, right?

You wonder how a recluse could portray such humanity. Maybe it makes sense. Maybe understanding what it is to be human requires one to also be alone. To be human is to be alone? To be alone is to be human?

It seems that's the struggle any creator faces. A successful public life is a war against self-consciousness; a successful creative life is a wallowing in self-consciousness.

It seems the two generally don't go together.

In that regard, Salinger doesn't give you hope. But let's ponder the nature of genius another day; let's celebrate it for now. So what his work wasn't sophisticated? So what he didn't take his own lessons to heart? The cranky old fuck just wanted to write. He did so pretty fucking well.

Day 15: Dear Niger

Whoever picked your name was really fucking stupid.

As an oddly-named person myself, I can commiserate. Alas, the only thing people consistently confuse Kalen for is Kaleb. This isn't that bad and is generally* correctable.

You, on the other hand, are generally only referenced whenever the KKK pamphlet has a typo. 

Your people will never gain acceptance or prosperity because whenever rich white people** ask where you're from, they won't stop laughing for 15 minutes after you answer them. Then they'll fire off another 15 minutes of nigger jokes. And while rich white people are Africa's only hope, their money isn't worth the humiliation. Fuck 'em.

You shouldn't change your name just for some unlikely chance at worldly acceptance. You should do it for the geography teachers, those brave souls that ask their students to memorize the shapes of West African nations before completely forgetting about them.*** You don't understand how awkward it gets when Mrs. Jones asks Danny what the answer to question number 12 is, and Danny puts his emphasis on the wrong syllable and answers "nigger," and Mrs. Jones has to explain that a nigger is a person of dark complexion who goes gorillas in Paris, while a Niger is a hopelessly bereft African nation whose citizens resemble those noted Parisians.

But I understand times is tough, in which case the money of rich white persons may attain greater importance than preserving your cultural heritage. If that's the case, maybe the Geography Teachers Union can hire Jack Abramoff to come to you, Niger. Maybe Jack can convince you, through the use of shady promises and expensive gifts, to finally change your name. Make it something white people will like, something like "Liberty Hills" or "Fawn Creek," because white people love freedom and mountains and baby deer and streams. Your nation probably has none of these things, but this doesn't fucking matter. Do it anyway.

Peace and blessings, my Niger.

*Unless your name is Fred Ehlke.

**There is no such thing as a rich black person, of course. Noted bawse Rick Ross was the race's last best hope, but the recent arrival of Church's Chicken in LA means he's gone broke. 

***With one exception. LUV U 5EVR, MY LITTLE KONY!

Day 14: Dear Lecrae

First of all: most of your fame comes from the endorsement of that one Asian guy who played a few good games for the Knicks that one time. So congratulations on that?

That's not why I know you, though. You see, I have friends, believe it or not, and good friends with a sense of moralism and Christlikeness that totally eludes me. You are their favorite rapper. You're not my favorite rapper, but my iPod is composed solely of angsty, distortion-laden, hopelessly white alternative rock. People like me will never love you, and you don't want me to love you. You want them to love you, and they love you. So know you're doing something right.

You are best known for your religious convictions. I admire said convictions. (OK, JK LOL no I don't because we all know God doesn't exist, but still, to each man his own beliefs and all.) 

But what I don't admire is your rapping, because really, it's not very good. Yes, everything I know about rap comes from Outkast and Watch the Throne, but this is enough to understand that your songs are forgettable wastes of four minutes. 

I want to know why you started rapping. To troll the world? Because Jesus told you to? Maybe to fuck redheads at creepy Christian colleges in Seattle? 

Really hope it's the last one, dearest Lecrae. After your orgy at Seattle Pacific University, just make sure to tell me if the carpet really does match the drapes.

God bless.

Day 13: You Get Up

"I often wonder if the world has it all wrong. Is it really a good thing to work 40, 50, 60 hours a week for scraps of paper we exchange for goods - most of which are wholly unnecessary - and get caught up in a cycle of wanting and acquiring and becoming indebted and trapped, when really at our core we're just animals with higher thinking abilities? 

Then I remember that I really do like bad reality TV, and buying prepackaged foods, and having fast transportation, and keeping my home at a temperate 73 degrees, and heading off to Best Buy for Lost, Season 1. And then I go to work."

I think I want a job that challenges me. I think I want to get an English degree and write and go to grad school and write some more and eat ramen and somehow understand human suffering and along the way write The Great Azerbaijani Novel. I think I don't want to be like my dad. I think I want to do something different, more challenging, more fulfilling than everybody else.

Then I remember I can go get a PR degree and come home from a shitty day and eat and watch and do whatever the fuck I want. Actually sounds pretty awesome - and also horrifyingly mundane and fundamentally pathetic, of course - but not bad. Not bad at all.