Da Dominion: Home of DOMINIONCAST!

FOX - home of the any reality show you can imagine from matching wits with children to animals finally getting pissed and mauling a mafucka - has decided to play on these harsh financial times and the generosity of the holiday season with it’s new show Secret Millionaire. Do you know what it’s about? Can you guess? That’s right!

It’s sort of like Joe Millionaire in reverse and with more real (homely) looking women. Daddy Warbucks and trophy wife - or age appropriate wife with a great pre-nup - get a $200-150 budget for week and are set up in some urban shit hole or trailer park depending on whichever they can fit in. The episode I saw had a Latino family in Watts, LA - Brown and Black blend in the ghetto, yet violently clash ironically. The producers follow them with cameras but tell folk it’s a documentary about living in the hood. This also creates an artificial bubble of safety, since there are witnesses and cameras don’t fence at the pawnshop for very high.

Wouldn’t you know it, these rich folk just so happen to meet some neighbors that are making the best of their life without Jacuzzis or a walk-in closet that features a 24-hour hot stone masseuse? Sometimes they just so happen to come upon a community group that gives support to others for free, which is something rich people never do for each other being so tangled in the root of all evil. Implicit in their education is the presumption that these places are NOT actually full of rappers holding cellulite beauty contests, nor mulleted sister-fucking clansman with boundary issues.

Funny thing: the Latino couple I saw were self-made rich - husband was at least, but not reached a mid-life crisis yet so still on bargain wife number 1. They’d come from a similar area to Watts, but dude was like he’s not from here so none of his barrio streetwise applied. Really? Weren’t you near this level 10 years ago?

After a week of seeing how the peasant folk live, a steady malnourishing diet of ramen noodles, dollar menu and raccoon croquettes (variant with choice of shit hole) moves them to tears. The flavor of tarragon is but a mere memory and they’ve got rashes from wiping their own ass wrong without a decent bidet. Their jewel-encrusted hearts grow three sizes too big and they realize: “Wait a sec, Muffy. We have money. Let’s … sh- … sh- … share some with these surprisingly human-like people.”

Here comes the real shocker. On the last day, they visit all of their new best friends and reveal that they’re actually millionaires. Dun-dun-duuuuuh! To make up for the deception they give them or their organizations tens of thousands of dollars if not an even hundred grand. Get ready for it - the poor folk forgive them with a hug and tears!! Icing on the deception cakes: “Take care, Shaniqua. We’ll be back, you guys are real friends.”

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Can’t you just see Cooter at the next cocktail party? Shirtless with an elbow patched tweed jacket bitching to executives about how Friend of the Court is rougher than the stock markets. More likely, young Tyrone gets to serve Christmas cookies at the holiday party and gets to take the leftovers home.

Look, your Dominus is not without pity or charity in his heart. I’m glad these poor folk are getting some help, especially in these strapped times. I’m glad these rich folk are getting into the Obaman spirit of not being such greedy bastards. Don’t try to tug on my heartstrings like this whole thing was spontaneous. Know why I don’t think we’ll be seeing any secret Black millionaires?

A. They’ve been there and done it and don’t need a hood refresher.
B. They’re busy on the road with their basketball team or on tour promoting they’re new album.
C. If a camera is following a Black man through the hood everyone assumes it’s on Cops and flees.

I must say that I approve of domestic charity over the loot that third worlds gets: having your child bought by an aging celebrity and all that fancy air dropped jasmine rice. Charity begins at home, or more likely that greasy urban sprawl between your suburban manse and the downtown office.

Internet love, that is. Net nookie. Finding friends.

As the tendrils of da Dominion spread through out the world like an all girl Japanese high school, we invite you to be touched. Good touch, outside of the swimsuit zone … or consensually within, no judgments but statutory conviction will not be risked.

We’re on several popular networking sites and invite you become friends with da Dominion:

Twitter
This new deal where you can basically text everyone you know with the inane details of your life as it’s happening. Very novel. I get up to shit and you can learn the quantity, color and quality in moments. More appropriately, share your geeky thoughts with others and enrich our Truth while inspiring discussion. Don’t like this post? You could’ve prevented it.

Dominion Space
The weird life of my 17-year-old cousin - my most active friend so far - is really creeping me out and filling me with concern over the future of da Dominus bloodline. You’ve got eight months of getting to know me. Now, what about you? Don’t be shy. I assure you you’re not the only one twisted enough to subscribe to our counter-cultural orthodoxy. Many wouldn’t even know what that is, mouth breathers. They’ve got thousands of “friends” though, like a Costco caseload of douche.

Stumble Upon Me (I’ll help you up)
Like Twitter but with all web content. I stumble my own shit often, but occasionally I’ll see something HIGH - larious on the net and remember that I’ve got a Stumble tool bar, therefore add it for Dominion approval. Share your likes and, as we share common interests already, I’ll stumble it if not dissect the item in our customary insightfully offensive way.

Digg Digga da Dominus
The same thing as Stumble Upon, but SU didn’t steal my name without notice. That smug super-sized internet monolith. Their day will come … it will be a cold day.

Citizens of da Dominion
Our content rich homegrown forums … foray? …forumi? … I’m not really Latin you know! All the entertainment of the blog solidified and multiplied. Videos, Citizen articles, Fan Factions, Geek pantheons - so many things to make your day at the office manageable. The place to propose your own Truths and showcase your talents without the time consuming mess of starting your own blog, and therefore facing destruction as a competitor. Now is the time to get in before the impending revamp planned by Hunin.

There they are. If you like a certain network we’ve missed comment on one below. You’ve read this far so here’s your reward: a review of what maybe the most comprehensive Sci-Fi RPG game book in a while written by your Dominus and published by our allies at Fear the Boot.

What is there to be thankful for? A black president bringing change like a lanky caramel Dumbo-eared Santa Claus in his bag of hope - of course! Assuming he survives to the inaugural. Hunin, Heaven, Rib, Anson and myself discuss this last election and how it’s effected us as … urbanites. Another thing to be thnakful for: this is the last we’re covering politics for a long while. So if you’re looking for the last word, here it is.

Dominion Cast 17 download (63 MB, 70 mins)

Intro - The Maestro by Fernando TRZ
Indian Prospects, Choking is not appropriate, Fancy Sweden’s par-TAY, Hoax holograms.
Sax and Bass Grove by Cyberdread
A Black President … Elected?
No Whammies, No Bradley’s
Skeptical Optimism
A Conservative in our Midst
Miles Etait Dans la boite by Solcarus
Maverick Myth
Grand Old Issues
Jazzyfunk by Cyberdread
The POP: Party of Palin
Crab Walk Dubbing by Fernando TRZ
Time for some Changes
Conservative Concerns
Hail to the Janitor

The election of Barack could mean the extinction of political humor in this post-Don Imus age. This needn’t be the case. Provided are illustrations on how to tastefully tease the President-elect.

First off, accidental jokes about Obama:

Ha! Yes, quite droll, bitch.

Seasoned veteran humorist:
Kinda stiff delivery, shaky timing with eradict segue - but decent substance.

A tiny bit about his name, still cautious:

More a Madonna joke, really.

A white comedian striking out:

Laugh worthy and gets the liberal audience behind you from it’s ridiculousness.

A professional in full swing:

This is how it should be done.

My submission:
Who’s tall, broad shouldered, with a booming masculine voice and now rules the world?

Add your own in comments.

In my net perusing, I came across this summons to action some of you may have read, if not heeded. To protect you my citizens from being stamped upon by the burly boots of fundamentalism, I hereby decree a Dominion sponsored faith we can all get behind: SUBMIT TO BOCCOB!

Whenever you face a vexing decision in life ponder, “What would Boccob do?” (WWBD) and do the smart thing, cast the appropriate spell, shift to another dimension with better options or do nothing at all - Big B doesn’t really give a shit.

The lack of faith this article contains threatens a lack of faith in US society - don‘t they know their own dogma? Atheism need not be illegal when big G is going to cast non-believers into a hot tub of magma to receive “enhanced romance” - not unlike enhanced interrogation, but rape - from Ben Grim, for all eternity clobber‘in that ass. The Thing’s stance on religion is notably unclear, but even if he were saved wouldn’t any rock monster be just as bad? Look at those fists, like geting fingered by Mount Everest!

Disillusionment with this society comes from the sad fact that the author of this “opinion” has voting power equal to my own: 1 divided by the non-felon voting adult population of the US - roughly equal to the strength of the Euro versus the dollar. We have the Democrats to blame for this, whom created the popular vote to put Andrew “Old Hickory” “Indian Killer” “Check me on the 20, bi-atch” Jackson into office. He was such an ass that animal became the party symbol - funny because it’s true - and the popular vote was created to ensure that one hundred and eighty years later the dumbest fucks have as much say in world leadership as Dominion citizens.

Return to the Electoral College only election? Hells no! We’ve come a long way over the decades. Information technology educates the populace on candidates as well as the megalomaniac inclinations of lonely grandeur-deluded geeks, Cholera is no longer a threat and people have accepted that regularly bathing is a good thing - sadly not all. In a crunch, the Supreme Court has proven a poor substitute as well.

Mob rule? Fuck no! I can’t even name two state senators, the presumed sons of bitches - can’t judge from ignorance - that chose the electoral college for our state’s meaty 17 votes. Anarchy is a nice symbol when it’s cut into your black t-shirt as you paint your nails to match your ashen lipstick, dude, but it’s another thing to have ot for real. I’ve seen enough Animal Planet and Discovery Channel to know the state of nature law of the jungle is too rugged for a pussy that shits in a toilet and eats with utensils murder-virgin like me. OK, I would murder someone wearing that much tie-dye.

Ghandi said “You can judge a society by how they treat their weakest members.” Whether or not the wisdom of this diaper wearing hunger-demented foreigner extended to the weakest mentally is the question. The answer in the US is: yes, they can. So, until this can be rectified, da Dominion is your brain’s refuge.

Boccob bless you this election day … but he probably won’t.