Weblog Sin Pies

By Mike Bijon

Reuters: Britain is banning people from engaging in anything that irritates someone else.

“British Prime Minister Tony Blair introduced court powers called Anti-Social Behavior Orders (ASBOs) in 1999 as part of a range of measures designed to ban problem behavior such as excessive noise, drunkenness, bad language and graffiti. … Preacher Philip Howard used to yell ‘be a winner not a sinner’ at passers-by through a megaphone in London’s main shopping street. But not everyone appreciated his high-volume evangelizing. Thanks to a court order, he faces up to five years in jail if he is caught with an amplification device in Oxford Street again. … A woman in Scotland was banned from answering the door in her underwear. One man was ‘ASBO-ed’ for playing the song ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ too loudly, another for feeding pigeons on his property.”

This is the best thing ever. My childhood dream of sending anyone who irritates me away can come true in Britain. Even better, I can stop trying to achieve world domination and watch a lot of TV now, since I don’t even have to rule the world to get rid of people over there. Just ratting them out for anything from public display of religion to having bad taste in music gets the government to ban them from doing whatever I don’t like.

While being “banned” may not sound like a big deal in the United States, it carries a threat of several years’ imprisonment in Britain, and any country that’s crushing free will is sure to will follow being banned through with a good portion of the threat — unlike the prison system in the United States where sentences rarely last as long as bumper stickers.

The government says ASBOs have made real progress in improving the quality of life and making the country safer, and last week Blair announced moves to withhold funding from councils that fail to tackle anti-social behavior.

Even better though, we should all e-mail Prime Minister Blair and encourage him to take the next step and create a colony for all those “crazies.” Just like when they shipped their religious outcasts to the American colonies and their prisoners to the Australian colonies, that could be a good thing for all the stuffy, normal people still allowed to stay in Britain. I can’t think of much land that isn’t spoken for now, but if Britain decides to be like the cool kids from high school they’ll just ditch anyone who doesn’t fit in with the country that most recently pissed them off. Maybe that’s why G-dub is so desperate for NASA to put people on Mars. He could pay back the US budget deficit by selling tickets to Britain to ship everyone they don’t like off to a whole new kind of penal colony.

By Charley Daniels

She was my dream girl. For sure. She had long, luxurious curls the color of really good beer, and deep, dark, penetrating pale ale eyes. Her lips, so full and moist, tasted like beer. She had perfectly pinched, rosy cheeks as though she had been drinking a lot. Did I mention her hands? They were holding a beer. She was definitely my dream girl, but I don’t know why. Another thing about her: she was curvy, with hills and valleys just where a man likes them — a perfect hourglass, or a really strange-shaped beverage container.

I had to meet her, which might ordinarily seem suspect, considering I already knew what her lips tasted like. But things are far from ordinary around here. So I walked up and offered her a beer, even though she already had one. “Would you like a beer?” I asked, cleverly. She looked at me with those drunken eyes, head cocked and brow raised.

“Have we met?” she asked.

“I was the guy who tasted your lips earlier.” The ice thus broken, our conversation could only improve from there. At length I discovered that her name is Beer, which explains the confusion when I offered her one. As we talked we both smiled uncontrollably, not unlike two teenagers who didn’t get carded at the beer garden.

The wedding was a blur.

Now Beer and I have been inseparable for longer than I am able to remember. For some people, love is sensuality, security, laundry, and infidelity. For me and Beer, it’s late nights, ill-advised road trips, bleary-eyed confessions, lack of inhibition — you know, fun stuff. She is my dream girl, this Beer, an addiction for which no 12-step program has the cure.

By Mike Bijon

Cambodian Prime Minister (and former Khmer Rouge soldier) Hun Sen has banned 3G mobile phones from Cambodia for 10 years. The ban comes after his wife and her friends complained to him about receiving pornography on their new 3G phones … and the imminently quotable Prime Minister says, “We can wait 10 more years until we have managed to improve morality in society.”

As prevelant and hard to stop as porn is, it sounds like Hun Sen might need to wake up those old Khmer Rouge enforcement methods to put a halt to the destruction of the upstanding society the Khmer Rouge built by paving farmers’ fields with skulls.

Then again, all of the Prime Ministers’ friends/political rivals probably have stacks of 3G phones on the shelf, even as they trod on the impoverished masses and with the Cambodian economy awfully close to the bottom of the barrel. It’s probably hard to keep them all underfoot without the ability to control who they talk to or control what they read. It would be a real dasappointment if Hun Sen can’t get his “fair” cut of all the “unsanctioned” and “illegal” human trafficking in Cambodia.