Archive for August, 2008

The blogs are nuts tonight with potential scandals involving What’s Her Name. If there’s any truth to either of them, this thing will be over before the shouting.

I’ll not comment further except to say evidence is compelling but circumstantial.

What we have here is not enough.

Yet.

I don’t know and I’m more than willing to acknowledge that anything can happen because it often does. But this is fascinating. Not merely for what it appears to be on the surface, but what it means and says about McCain and his his whole infrastructure.

Anecdotally interesting are the soundbites from her in the last few months. I don’t believe she thought she was under any serious observation. Likely, she wasn’t being seriously considered. When you’re being vetted for VP of this country, you know. They’re in your face and all up in your business.

You feel them in your ass.

Regardless of how these few scenarios mature and whatever What’s Her Name’s involvement ends up being, I’m starting to understand that Doubtfire doesn’t know much more about her than we do. At least until just recently.

I’m not saying he threw a dart, but I’m starting to wonder if he didn’t make up his mind until the closing days or even hours of the convention.

He has no idea who this woman is.

It could be a perfect ripple in the course of human events.

Might just be the catalyst that allows us to get on with matters far more important. Wouldn’t that be something?

Forgive my enthusiasm.

Drinks for my friends.

This is ridiculous.

He’s lost his mind.

The first half of the day, I was genuinely confused.

Sarah Palin?

Let’s begin with the abundantly obvious. She has been the Governor of a remote, sparsley populated state for less than two years. Proir to that she was *gasp*, on the city council, then Mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, a population of somewhere over five thousand. I assume they have traffic lights and indoor conveniences. Possibly an unsactioned militia or two.

Creationism is taught in the schools of her state and she’s on board with it. She’s anti-abortion and pro-gun. She’s practically Ted goddamn Nugent when it comes to hunting. Former aspiring beauty queen still squeezing out puppies at forty four years of age.

And they say she’s smart. A real go getter. Sheezus! Let’s consider her for Postmaster General.

The jacked up long shot political calculus is that they somehow think this woman can bring evangelicals, social conservatives, and as many ignorant women as they can fool.

Yeah, good luck with that. Keep swinging for the fences. Try using a bat.

What we have here, is as shallow and transparent an example of political brinksmanship I have ever witnessed in a Presidential contest.

Doubtfire has met her twice. Or maybe only once. We don’t know. He is seventy two. He’s had cancer four times. Both his father and grandfather died of heart failure at an age younger than he. He is saying that this woman is the best qualified person in America to be Commander in Chief should he lose the fifty fifty wager that he’ll take the dirt nap at any moment after his inauguration.

Are you comfortable with that? This is the only question I want Republicans to answer. Don’t tell me there are other factors or that it’s not the point because it’s the top of the ticket that matters.

Answer. Yes or No?

Forgive me kids, it’s just a little more suspension of disbelief than I can manage.

It’s reckless, irresponsible, stupid and selfish. The hypocrisy and hubris is profound enough to inspire my jaw to slacken so completely as to allow drool to spill freely from my face. Bear with me while I change my dampened blouse and fashion a bib.

James Carville could barely keep a straight face or suppress his own urge to laugh tonight on CNN.

It amounts to this. Game over.

I’m relieved that it’s not going to matter at all.

I’m pretty sure this latest boot heel on dick move by McCain will prove to be his demise. He’s done. Look for the fork wagging from his back. There will be a sign on it that says kick me, I just shit myself.

John McCain needs a riding lawn mower and some grass to cut.

Drinks for my friends.

08/29/08 7:04PM
The Cynicism Of John McCain
I’ve never bought into the “experience” argument with regard to the presidency. There is no job on the planet that can adequately prepare someone to be President, so no one can be considered truly experienced for this job. Good judgment and values are far more important in a presidential candidate than experience. After all, look at all of the experience among the members of the Bush Administration, and look at the horrendous mess they have gotten us into.

But, the experience argument is really beside the point with regard to McCain’s selection of Sarah Palin as his running-mate. What this decision demonstrates beyond a shadow of a doubt is that John McCain has no integrity whatsoever and will do or say anything in order to get elected. McCain has spent the last few months making the argument that Barack Obama is “dangerously inexperienced” and that electing him would put the country at risk. How can he then turn around and put Sarah Palin (a woman with zero experience in national politics and a grand total of 2 years experience as the Governor of Alaska) a heartbeat away from the presidency? There is one (and only one) explanation for this unexpected move. John McCain is a pure politician and believes that putting Palin on the ticket will help him with key demographics that he needs to win in November.

This conclusion should come as no surprise to anyone who has followed McCain’s career over the years. The fact that McCain has been able to reinvent himself as a “maverick” and “straight talker” is one of the most impressive PR jobs in recent history. This is a man who was investigated and cited by the Senate Ethics Committee for interfering with a federal investigation of Lincoln Savings & Loan – a bank which eventually went bankrupt and cost the American taxpayers billions of dollars. Five Senators (the infamous “Keating Five”) were cited and investigated in the matter – three of them had their careers ended, while one of them re-branded himself as a “straight-talker” and is now the Republican nominee for President.

The only thing that is surprising about McCain’s selection of Palin is that he believes the American people will either not notice or will overlook the blatant hypocrisy and political opportunism that this move so clearly demonstrates. Does McCain really expect us to believe that his decision was motivated by the desire to select the most qualified person for the job of Vice President?

The selection of Palin is obviously motivated by two factors. First, many recent polls have indicated that a large percentage of Hillary Clinton’s female supporters have not lined up behind the candidacy of Barack Obama. McCain’s selection of Palin is an obvious ploy to try and win over feminist voters who feel slighted by Hillary’s loss. McCain supporter Mike Huckabee stated today, “Governor Palin … will remind women that if they are not welcome on the Democrat’s ticket, they have a place with Republicans.” What could be more simple-minded and cynical than this statement? (“Hey you disgruntled women, never mind that one candidate is for the war in Iraq and one has been consistently against it, never mind that one is for universal healthcare and one is against it, just vote for us because we put a woman on the ticket!” Man, they must really think the women they’re targeting with this argument are stupid. If I was a woman I’d be enraged by such an obvious insult to my intelligence.)

The second factor is McCain’s need to compete with the “historical candidacy” of Barack Obama. McCain fears that the standard ticket of two old white guys isn’t going to cut it against a candidacy that has captured the imagination of the world. So, what does he do? He goes out and tries to create his own “historical candidacy”.

There is nothing daring or “maverick” about this move. All it does is confirm the fact that John McCain is the ultimate Washington insider. He has been playing the game for decades and will stop at nothing in pursuit of the brass ring he’s had in his sights for so many years. John McCain is the embodiment of the cynical Washington status quo, and anyone who believes that he would provide anything but “more of the same” is simply not paying attention.

We would do well to understand that the entire world wants Our Man to be President.

It behooves us to understand why. Why they will breathe a sigh of relief once Barack Obama is elected is something we should be keenly aware of. We need to disabuse ourselves of the notion that the interest of the world in our political process is a bad thing.

Why would we think that anyway?

The rest of earth’s people are watching, more than ever before and that’s a very good thing. A very important thing.

See America, this election is far larger than us. The planet is holding it’s breath.

So am I.

Understand that these traditional divisions by which we so willingly seperate ourselves no longer matter. Red or blue, conservative vs. liberal, are concepts that have become obsolete. Barack Obama is an American. He is a citizen of the world. Just like you. Just like me.

This is what the global community hopes we will arrive at. The rest of the world has long since held the competition between our conflicting ideologies to be silly. What wiser Americans hope can be put behind us, is what Our Man said “enough” to tonight.

He had plenty else to say but that’s a chunk of what I got.

Forgive me for being not so concerned about specific positions and pontification on policy when it comes to a campaign speech. He acquitted rather aggressively in that regard and I liked it. In Doubtfire’s face. Right in his pasty sour little face.

Those things however, are better suited to the personal task of actually READING what the candidates have to say on specifics. The onus is still on the individual to do a little homework. Sorry kids, required reading is of both candidates. Think of it as your civic duty; because it is.

Sometimes, someone comes along. That someone ends up being exactly what we need. JFK, MLK and yes LBJ. It happens because of the need instead of the someone. A result of the circumstance as opposed to the man. That’s what Our Man wants us to comprehend. It is a concept that we must go beyond understanding. We need to own it.

He’s trying to tell us it’s not him, it’s us.

What he asks of us is not just to elect him. What he asks is that upon getting that done, we join him in making things right. He is challenging us to help, while he leads. To stand against a military industrial complex that holds an entire planet in it’s grip. To speak truth to power and wield common sense for the common good against plutocracy, theocracy and ideology.

He’s imploring us to pay attention and to participate.

There are two parts to his message. Elect him as a leader and then follow him.

And, maybe get on with the most important task of saving us all.

Boys and girls, better times are ahead if we will only stop being afraid and take matters into our own hands. Stop allowing a media run amok to dictate what you think. Start paying attention and begin to make up your own minds.

“And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country.” -John Fitzgerald Kennedy

“It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.”

“It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.”

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.”

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

That’s poetry.

Absolutely had to go there.

Drinks for my friends.

As far as I’m concerned, the Clintons have done their job. Passionate, sincere speeches full to bursting with conviction and enthusiasm. The matriarch and the patriarch of the Democratic party have gracefully bequeathed the Democratic flame.

Well done Bill. Well done Hillary. Very well done.

I mean at the very least, we know Bill to be an expert liar, but I bought his message tonight. Call me crazy.

I must tell you, my optimism is renewed.

“Don’t stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Don’t stop, it’ll soon be here,
It’ll be, better than before,
Yesterday’s gone, yesterday’s gone.” -Fleetwood Mac

Amen.

Be afraid you willfully ignorant Republicans. Be scared shitless.

I’m an American. I love my country and what it has stood for. It is time for us to stand for those things again. I say fuck you John McCain. In light of the policies you endorse and the ideals you embrace, I’m more than willing to question your patriotism. I’m here to question your judgement. I’m here to seriously question your sanity.

I’m not as anxious to cut you the slack everyone else seems so willing to afford you. I think you’re wrong, anachronistic, obsolete and absurd. I think you suck and you’re bad for America and the world.

I gotta tell ya, this convention is good stuff. The Democratic party has been gathering steam for years and they are about to explode all over America. No worries, it’ll be like a warm spring rain. Not sticky at all.

The Republicans have nothing but ad hominem rhetoric, fear and divisiveness. They sure as hell have nothing on the issues. They have rent the American ethic asunder, without apology, without remorse. They have no business attempting to cast aspersions on those of us who dare to think outside of their stupid, pitifully small box. How dare they question us after how badly they have screwed it all up in so short a time.

Ever notice how their eyes are way too close together? And they squint when they think hard.

As my old producing partner Al used to say, there’s a fine line between clever and stupid.

Then there’s Joe.

There is perhaps no better person in the U.S. Senate than Joe Biden. Know how I know? After thirty six years in the United States Senate, he’s it’s poorest member. On paper, he’s not worth shit. He’s in debt. My kinda guy.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the perfect ticket. A man of hope and optimism and the intelligence to see it through and a man with the experience and the goddamn down in the dirt kick your ass toughness to get shit done.

My man Biden parked it tonight. It was not one inch short of gorgeous. Biden is the shit. Powerful, pissed and righteous.

Republicans may as well sit this one out. Why show up if you’re just gonna get your ass handed to you? Why behave in public if you’re living on a playground? Stay home. Have a few beers and don’t worry. You only stand to benefit here, even though you may not deserve it.

What we have here, is a successful communication. Yes we do.

Doubtfire will go down in flames because he has it coming. He deserves it.

And really, this is far larger than either he or his faithful, or party-line Republicans have the capacity to grasp. It’s weird that it’s beyond them, but it is.

Drinks for my friends.

Much respect as I remain entertained by the Rajun Cajun, but he needs to take his whiskey home.

“You haven’t heard about Iraq or John McCain or George W. Bush — I haven’t heard any of this. We are a country that is in a borderline recession, we are an 80 percent wrong-track country. Health care, energy — I haven’t heard anything about gas prices,” Carville also says. “Maybe we are going to look better Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. But right now, we’re playing hide the message.” -James Carville CNN.com

See, Jimmy, you’re right.

But see Jimmy, there’s another agenda as well. Dare I sound like an overly sensitive nancy boy when I point this out, but we’re going for a little unity here too.

See Jimmy, that’s on the agenda because you Clinton people have just refused to be remembered as dignified. Your class and generosity is suspect. Y’all continue to pick and whine. We no longer want to listen to your shit. We’d like to move on. We’d still like you to come with us, but it’s time to go.

See Jimmy, there’s a significant number of you who say at least, that they’ll be voting for McCain because Hillary didn’t get was owed to her and Bill. What was owed to her and Bill.

Jimmy, this is a problem and these people are idiots.

See what I’m saying Jimmy?

You musta missed Michelle Obama’s speech. My cable is out but my mother called to tell me how wonderful it was.

I watched it in pieces on the internet. I imagine you pontificated before that so I’m giving you a partial pass.

I actually teared up a little. These two people are special. They reach out and touch with astounding grace and sincerity. Her speech tonight was beyond compelling.

She was.

An elegant and passionate orator, an honest and humble communicator, a profound force of humility and honesty. Beautiful and intelligent and courageous.

She was.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I was moved.

She is.

Resplendent.

Jimmy, my advice to you is to shut up, jump on the back and let your feet dangle over the edge while you watch the road pass backwards between them.

Drinks for my friends.

Ever since the bastard visited the worst kind of yellow journalism on Ahmadinejad last year, I’ve had a black place for him in my mind. I’m no fan of that shit Ahmadinejad, but Pelley’s questions were pregnant with flawed assumption and bullshit jingoism.

I enjoy 60 Minutes. Often brilliant. Yet, Pelley in particular, when reporting on all matters of war and foreign affairs, consistently misses the point. He did it again tonight. He grilled a soldier who’d never seen combat, thrust into the hottest of zones, over his actions and command in Haditha, Iraq after a vehicle in his convoy had been blown sky high and his men had come under fire in an urban enviroment.

Within minutes, his unit had killed twenty four Iraqi civilians.

Within minutes.

It happened that fast, so yeah, mistakes were made.

Pelley plumbed the depths for an explanation of the recklessness and the degree of remorse. Of course, Robert Wuterich was more than sorry, but he said that under the conditions he could not imagine doing anything differently. It was chaos.

Wuterich will face courtmartial for the events of that day.

He said something like he never intended to go murder people in their houses, it’s what happened as he acted according to the way he was trained. He did not intend to be responsible for the deaths of twenty four civilians.

I’m not excusing it or them, I’m just saying it was close to impossible.

Whatever.

It’s all completely beside the point.

Dick-in-Bush are the criminals. Condi and Rummy et. al.

By some estimates, over a million Iraqi civilians have been killed as a result of American military operations in Iraq.

So, somebody please explain what the point could possibly be for prosecuting a soldier for murder under the circumstances they found themselves in. Circumstances our President and his cavalcade of greedy neoconservative douchebags have immersed our soldiers in. Sunk them in, so that many can barely breathe.

This is fucked up. America seeks to prosecute soldiers for a split second decision when they are surrounded by an enemy that is indistinguishable from the populace. A child, a woman or an old man may be pregnant with fifty pounds of exposives under traditional garb.

Congruent to Abu Ghraib, where guards were persecuted and prosecuted for an ethic of permissable torture and degradation that originated and was fomented in the highest corridors of power of the United States military authority.

It’s a goddamn joke. And it makes me want to puke. Engineer the clusterfuck and then hold the actors you cast in the ridiculous play responsible for the words you put in their mouths and the deeds you script in black and white.

Man, I hate these guys.

Where do they hope this sort of precedent will lead? Irresponsible. Unconscionable. Stupid and entirely without accountability or compassion.

They have destroyed everything. The trust and will of the world and the will and trust of the people of this country, undermined and sick.

Thus far, accountability has gone as far as soldiers and guards. That, boys and girls, is really bad news.

Allow me to recommend “The Prosecution of George W. Bush for Murder” by Vincent Bugliosi.

Forgive me, but how many morons are holding out for McCain? Seriously. You people are killing me.

Drinks for my friends.

is some Joe Biden.

And I am not at all unhappy about it. This is a man who is sharp and brave, unafraid to say what he thinks. Unapologetically more than a loose lipped cashier. Tangle with this man at your peril. He doesn’t know about gloves.

I like that his fuse is as obvious as it is.

“This is bullshit. This is malarkey. This is outrageous. Outrageous for the president of the United States to go to a foreign country, sit in the Knesset … and make this kind of ridiculous statement,” Biden said angrily in a brief interview just off the Senate floor.” -Poitico, Ben Smith.

Symmetry. Fire and nuance. Grey hair and youth. Experience and fresh ideals. No ideology.

Two swinging dicks.

Chairman of the U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations. Former chair and still member of the U.S. Senate Committee on the Judiciary. Thirty six years in the Senate. This guy is good.

I can’t forget watching the C-Span footage of Biden gritting his teeth, looking like he was going to come over the table at Ashcroft during the very first Senate hearings on torture. It was brilliant. He was so disgusted with the United States Attorney General he had no hope to disguise it and he didn’t care.

Now I can’t help but salivate over the anticipation of Biden against either Romney or Lieberman or maybe Ridge in the debates. I can’t wait to see Benedict Fliptop or Guy Smiley with the magic underwear at the end of Biden’s whip. The Republicans don’t have shit. This just may be really good stuff.

Be afraid Republicans. Be very afraid. There’s a freight train of subtlety, intelligence and burning brimstone steaming right at you. She’s fully loaded, gathering steam and she’ll be racing at full speed by the time you meet her.

This is good stuff.

It is an informed and wise choice in light of the dramatic shift the office of the Vice Presidency has enjoyed under Richard Bruce Cheney. You can vomit a mouthfull about the evil bastard but we must own the paradigm shift he’s engineered in terms of the office he occupies.

Biden is a presence and Obama is no fool. He’s signed a powerful and willfull man as his partner. Hillary’s shadow was too long. All the others cast a shadow far too short. Biden’s is just right.

Here we go. Come the Fall, there will be blood.

This is gonna be good.

Drinks for my friends.

Official brainspank prediction for Democratic VP is Joe Biden. Brainspank has very little problem with this. Go after Biden and before you know what happened, he’ll be shitting down your neck while the eyes from your decapitated head can’t help but watch.

What kind? I don’t know. Find me someone who can demonstrate that this shuffling knucklehead is impaired. These are in no particular order.

1. At a campaign event today, Doubtfire made it a point to agree with “everything” a woman who said she saw no way to continue all that we’re engaged in militarily and still follow Bin Laden to the gates of Hell without a draft. The last words out of her mouth were about the draft. Doesn’t matter if it was some version of a verbal typo, what a loser. Not a statement or even an explanation from his campaign.

2. The cross story. The same goddamn story he’s been telling since the cassette tape was king. At first it was about someone else. Now he’s combined it with the rope story and tells it in the first person. He must be one desperate bastard to cheapen and exploit his devastating sacrifice for a little bump in the polls. I’m anxious to put what may be too fine a point on the issue of Senator McCain’s service to his country. Wes Clark pointed out that his internment during the Vietnam war did not qualify him for commander in cheif. I agree. I’m of the opinion that it’s an event in any man’s life that would give me pause as to his stability. What I’m trying to say here is I think the guy is more than a little nuts.

3. He was a shitty pilot but his Old Man was a four star Admiral. He was fifth from bottom at Annapolis out of eight hundred and ninety nine cadets. Grandpa was a four star Admiral too. He crashed three or four planes. Without legacy, he never would have gotten in to Annapolis.

4. He’s a sellout. He brags about standing up to big oil while contributions to his campaign from that lobby went from half a million to two million as soon has he flopped on the useless idea of more offshore drilling. He consistently votes against veteran’s interests or he doesn’t bother to show up.

5. He’s an adulterer. I don’t really care about this one but everybody else seems to, so I thought I’d throw it in.

6. After Bush, Rove and Cheney bent him over to enter him with an ICBM sans lube in the 2000 Presidential primary, his withered, birdy lips have been around the evil triumvirate’s blackened and pre-tumescent phallus ever since. It’s disgusting. The man has no shame.

7. I loathe this campaign strategy of coloring Our Man as some kind of elitist. McCain has eight residences, far from ordinary residences. He wears five hundred dollar shoes. I bet it’s been less than a handful of years that Our Man might afford such shoes. How many houses you think he owns? It’s a fucking lie. A huge one. The worst kind because it’s such blatant hypocrisy. Our Man, no father, entirely self made, no legacy, an elitist. Fuck you Doubtfire.

8. His membership in the “Keating Five” and the Lincoln Savings & Loan conflagration. Our first Enron.

9. He’s completely wrong on Iraq. The other night on television when pressed to define what rich is he burped five million in annual income. Earlier this year when asked about the possibility of occupation in Iraq for fifty years, he vomited the idea of a hundred. He doesn’t know how to use a computer. He only recently learned of the difference between Sunni and Shia. He cannot comb his own hair. How’s that for number nine bitches?

10. He’s a dick. He craps in a bag. He pisses himself and his bed chronically. Nobody likes him. He smells funny. He picks his nose and his ass and smells his fingers. He’s addicted to lip gloss. There’s a precancerous discoloration on his back about the size of an omelette that looks like 666. He loves to call attention to his farts. He enjoys to eat dog. His wife is an android from Stepford. He’s never gone downtown on a woman and uses faith as his excuse. He’ll throw a rock at a little kid whenever he can get away with it. He has shat in more than one closet at more than one dinner party.*

*I don’t know any of number ten to be true but none of it would suprise me. I thought it was only fair to toss some lies out there. The “liberal” media seem to have no problem with it. After all, it’s a lot of fun. The other nine however, are the absolute truth with my hand up.

Drinks for my friends.

Of all that I read on myspace, this guy is always above it. He’s sharp, knowledgeable, original and consistent. I’m introducing him to you because I admire him and his thinking. I intend to post him regularly. Look for him under “Josh”.

What follows is his first contribution to brainspank:

Tuesday, August 19, 2008 – 12:26 PM

Hell Hath No Fury: The Legacy of Hillary

I truly thought I had written my last piece on Hillary Clinton once it became clear that Barack Obama would be the Democratic nominee for President. That was until I read today that 28% of Clinton’s primary voters don’t plan to vote for Obama and 18% of her female voters plan to vote for John McCain. At the risk of being labeled a sexist (it wouldn’t be the first time), I have to wonder whether disgruntled women are really willing to be responsible for the end of the world.

If I had an opportunity to converse with a member of this 18% (I don’t know any personally), I would ask her if it is really more important to avenge her mistreated sex than to avert World War III. I thought men were the ones who are supposed to be self-destructively stubborn, but if these 18% tip the scales from Obama to McCain, we men will at least be able to enjoy the vindication in knowing that women are capable of matching us, if not exceeding us, in pig-headedness.

In a broader sense, this is not about feminism at all; it is rather an example of a larger phenomenon which I believe is the greatest source of evil in the world – i.e. group identification. Whether it be patriotism, racial solidarity, school spirit, or any of countless other examples, we are taught from the cradle to the grave that it is a good thing to support those who are like us against those who are not like us. In fact, what could be a better example of this mode of thinking than the nationalistic orgy of the Olympics that we are currently witnessing? Why does is matter whether the US has more medals than China? Why should we root for an American athlete over a Russian athlete? What if the American is an asshole and the Russian is a nice guy?

Likewise, anyone who has the audacity to argue that an Iraqi life is of equal value to an American life is immediately branded as “un-American”. How anyone can hold such a belief and simultaneously claim to believe in a God who created heaven and earth is beyond me.

There is nothing wrong with being proud of one’s country, race, class, sex, etc., but when one crosses over to giving preferential treatment to members of the “in-group”, harm is necessarily done to everyone else who is not a member of the preferred group. (For a further discussion of this subject, please see my earlier pieces “Anti-Semitism and Jewish Solidarity” and “The Money Lender”.)

If this world is going to save itself, it will not be due to the efforts of any specialized interest-group, whether it be the labor movement, the women’s movement, the pro-choice movement, the pro-life movement, or any other movement. The very basis of all of these movements is fundamentally flawed. As a result, despite the best of intentions, they all serve to perpetuate the struggle of human against human, and by doing so they threaten to lead to the eradication of the human race. Only by moving beyond all forms of group-identification and truly embracing the “brotherhood of man” will we have a chance of drawing back from the brink and saving ourselves from the destruction that seems more likely with every passing week.

So, to those 18% of female Hillary supporters, I beg you to reconsider your stance. To allow your dedication to your “in-group” to cause you to withhold your support from Barack Obama (who you know damned well is a far better choice for President than John McCain), would be a tragic instance of cutting off your nose to spite your face. Like you, I look forward to the day when race and sex will be a non-issue in selecting our leaders, but if you pursue this goal from the limited perspective of group-identification, there may be no future at all for man, woman, black, white, American, Iraqi, Russian, Georgian…

Here’s something I do a lot. Contemplate. Remember, analyze and perseverate.

I think about shit. I can’t help it.

I have to say, despite most of us not actually dining on each other, we are brutal cannibals. I wonder what raw percentage of us kill another in a lifetime. I mean in a war, through criminal neglect or a car crash. Whatever. Bet it’s pretty high.

Yet, our various capabilities and intelligence as a species are far beyond anything to ever inhabit this tiny, microscopic sphere. As far as we know.

Telescopes so powerful as to allow us to see back in time. We got gear on Mars that talks to us constantly. It’s understood that the faster you go, the slower time is. We think it comes close to stopping once you seriously approach one hundred eighty six thousand miles a second. The speed of light. Basic relativity. Nothing new. Did you know time and space are pliable?

Dolphins and whales, mammals both, are closest to us in intelligence. They don’t even have fingers to dial a phone or run a calculator. Maybe their fins could work an abacus someday. I hope so. They seem to have a dignity and wisdom that humans lack. It occurs to me that most animals do.

We know dung beetles are over a hundred million years the same and we’ve long since made more than enough bombs to probably erase any evidence of ourselves.

It’s a theme I visit often. Our individual morality versus our collective ability to swing a sword ever more effectively.

Geologists, anthropologists and archeologists have successfully debunked the monolithic myth that is any Bible or religion, ancient or contemporary.

Here we have the competition in black and white. A bas relief. Right there in goddamn front of ya.

This is the race humans are running. We cling to fables and ancient justifications for things we didn’t understand and those we still don’t, while our capacities increase beyond our abilitiy to control them.

Realistically, the disconnect is emotional and spiritual. As a species and a community, we are not merely callow, but inept in any way having anything to do with any pursuit of right and wrong or responsible, individual morality.

Our demise will be the triumph of technology over the failure of philosophy and compassion.

We commit the error of substituting religion for philosophy over and over and over.

Having “faith” does not guarantee an advanced level of kindness or or anything like it. I observe it to be a likely indicator for prejudice and intolerance. I’ll be blunt. I think it’s stupid and counterproductive.

We all die and that’s all we can know. I don’t know about you but that fact lends me considerable humility. As far as I know I’m finite and so are you. Get over it. There is no Santa and your beliefs don’t make you special.

Somebody remind Darth Cheney.

What I’m trying to get to is this:

The longer people hold fast to these archaic notions about God, religion, nationalism, patriotism, jingoism, et al, the faster we race headlong and pell mell towards the abyss of extinction.

The good news is the Earth will survive us. She’s just as responsible for shaking us off as we are for killing ourselves. Maybe she’ll give the insects the next big chance. Who knows? I’m pulling for the fish with hair.

Drinks for my friends.

I was troubled after the CNN presentation of interviews with both candidates by the leader of the Saddleback Church, Rick Warren.

Question number one is who is this friendly bastard and why is he here? National Television. An influential religious figure gets this kind of airtime on a cable news network?

All I care to know is he heads a megachurch. The fourth largest in the country. The biggest in the biggest state of California.

So you know, fuck him. Ha! That much power in the venue of God and fear and the fear of God, discredits the man entirely in my book.

Ever seen “There Will Be Blood”?

He seemed nice enough. Some of the questions were compelling.

John “conception” McCain did very well. The bar was low but he succeeded in raising it. You know, they said the same about Dumbya. So yeah, Doubtfire did quite well and that pains me of course. He was direct and resolute. Simple. I imagine he’d just had his cocktail of vitamins and stimulants via the nightly needle.

Our Man was far more conversational and relaxed. Yes, he was nuanced. Profoundly. When he spoke of the humility we must maintain when confronting evil because too much harm has been done in the name of good for example. Eloquent and salient. This guy is good.

The thing is this, that honest and thoughtful shit doesn’t always play in Peoria or Clearwater. That’s a shame.

I’m angry. I’m over having to make room for the stupid, lazy and underinformed. It doesn’t take a genius to see we’re fucked and the group that’s fucking us are all dressed the same with similar haircuts. The codgers all sport the “Doubtfire”. The Dorothy Hamill for the pasty set. Often they look like their pink heads are about to combust under their pale gossamer combovers.

Except the insurgents, they look like us. They talk liberal but vote neocon.

What that is, is talking complex to obfuscate ignorance. Willfull ignorance.

I have empathy for the authentically stupid.

I have disdain for the willfully ignorant. They disgust me. Intellectually dishonest, most likely greedy and dispassionate.

Sometimes it all seems so hopeless.

I talked to two good old friends today. Older and younger by about the same amount. Both very good men. I have a much stronger bond with one of them but it doesn’t matter here. The older was far more pessimistic than my younger friend. I was curious to find myself in the middle. It struck me that chronologically, my veiws were predictable. Typical.

Then I considered the company I was in. That thought became a bit of a revelation. I flirted with epiphany.

It never quite came.

The older said truthfully that we can and always will do worse.

The younger said honestly that he believes we will do better and there is a way.

I have Deja Vu.

Drinks for my friends.

At least once a year the carnival came to town. Right after school started. While fall made itself known. They’d set up in the park, in front of the towering cottonwoods, where the grass barely grew.

I entered kindergarten when the population of my town was barely twenty thousand. We weren’t a suburb. Our first fast food emporium was a McDonald’s when I was eight or nine. The next biggest town was Reno, some thirty miles north with not much at all between save for a lake called Washoe that goes dry every decade or so.

No internet, no cable, no cell phones, not even a VCR. We got a microwave oven when I was sixteen. We eventually obtained a pushbutton phone. The closest place to buy a comic book was a few miles away. Closest place to buy a record was miles further. Andy’s Smoke Shop was downtown, next to Cactus Jacks on 395. Main Street. Easy on a bike, not on a skateboard.

I read, listened to records and rode my bike all over the goddamn place.

I was seven or eight when I allowed myself to be strapped into a ride called The Hammer.

It was painted bright red, white and blue. I thought of Evil Knievel. I’m sure the kind of oversight in place now didn’t exist back then while we still hear about people meeting their maker to this day on these things.

I was walloped by color and sound.

Crazy. The cockpit restraints fit way to loose and it reeked of vomit and beer. Two rocket nosed capsules at either end of a spinning steel beam some sixty feet high that swung both forward and backward while each two man compartment rotated three hundred and sixty degrees simultaneous but opposite.

It began to rain. We came over the top, the velocity of the arm I’m riding slamming rain on my face and into my eyes. The only break I get from this is while I’m speeding towards the dirt in front of the Cottonwoods.

It was a fucking nightmare.

I’ve barely stepped on a ride that might shake my tree since.

The high desert turns cold very quickly. Warm afternoons become a windy wet snowfall before the the sweat on your neck dries. I’ve sat in snow on the Fourth of July.

Most of us were perfectly happy to visit the carnival, nevermind the weather.

Rows of booths, games and food to make you shit like a goose, festive lights, smells of cotton candy, popcorn, corndogs and mustard. Dust and desert wind. Tiny glass bowls filled with bright colored water and goldfish destined to be discovered belly up within a few days.

People from Silver City, Virginia City, Minden and Gardnerville.

There were fistfights between bikers and cowboys. Elderly couples wandering with mouths open and eyes empty. Children with sticky faces and hands. Not much to compete with the sensory impact of a small town carnival. I never cared fuck all for the games or the prizes. The rides were suspect at best.

Drunken carnies missing fingers and teeth operating the Feris Wheel and The Hammer had long since sealed my deal.

Unidentifiable potential, almost tangible, hung like the possibilty of a storm on a cold, summer Sunday after mowing the grass. Wind blows strong, brush and weeds whistle. Giant clouds moving like starships over the Sierras.

I kissed a platinum blonde girl named Nicki from Reno once. She tasted like fruity lip gloss and bubble gum. She wore a light blue top and tight white pants. She had boobs. I touched them. Then I wrote a poem.

Red and yellow bulbs float in aromas of hot grease and sweet candy. Fudge and caramel. Pink, blue and green from the aisles in the center offering everything from blacklight posters to garish mirrors with a variety of liquor logos and ubiquitous cheap ass stuffed animals.

Cigarettes, drugstore cologne, Avon perfume and sweat

A poetry of chaos.

One year, sixth grade, I managed to win a sort of golden red Iron Cross on a chain. I was more than pleased while it clanked on my school desk and aided me in setting a record for demerits.

Department stores used to smell like the textiles they sold. These days every square foot of retail space is perfumed to enhance the shopping experience. Back then, I could smell the automotive department from home & garden. Last time I was in an auto parts store it smelled like an auto parts store. I was pleased.

Monday morning on the bus going up the highway, like it was never there.

Talking to people that can’t or won’t hear me is an arduous task. It just happened a few nights ago and it fills my gut with so much frustration it’s unbearable. I can’t stand not being understood. I can’t stand speaking truth to the mistake when the mistake lacks dexterity to hear even basic honesty and sincerity.

At this point, what to do?

Walk. It’s useless. It becomes a spiritual deficit. Too bad.

I’m not sure, but I think that’s why we all like the color blue.

“By the pricking of my thumbs / Something wicked this way comes.” -Will Shakespeare

Drinks for my friends.

An actual headline from the website.

These people are full of shit.

Duh.

“ExtenZe is the strongest, most advanced formula available today to increase the size of your penis and enhance sexual desire, pleasure and performance. With the newest, most advanced medically designed formula ever created for male sexual enhancement, it’s simply the best and is all natural with no harmful side effects. Increase the size of your penis in just a few weeks by taking one ExtenZe tablet each day. ExtenZe works for men of any age.
Even if you’ve tried everything, even other pills, you owe it to yourself to try the one that really works…ExtenZe!”

I called the toll free number. I told them I was a prominent blogger and would be happy to tell the truth about their product if they would agree to send me a free sample.

The TV deal was postage only for a free seven day trial so they only wanted 97 cents.

They only accept credit cards, however.

I reminded them I was a very prominent blogger and they should just send it to me.

They only accept credit cards.

They refused to waive the postage for the very prominent blogger.

I suggested COD to the very polite and friendly Phillipino lady.

No way I’m giving these fucks my credit card.

Wait! The Commercial is on again. Who the fuck is Doctor Stein from the Stein Institute? If he were suddenly thrust into the public school system he’d automatically be diagnosed with a learning disorder, given a helmet and assigned to the short bus. If that didn’t work they’d make sure he was bullied constantly and made to believe he was a homo and that it was very bad to be a homo.

They only accept credit cards.

How fucking stupid can people be?

I will share this with you. If there were a product on the market that could increase the size of male humanoid genitalia, in a male dominated world such as this, it would be available as lozenge sized discs packaged in a foil wrapper at the counter of every convenience store, gas station, drugstore, vending machine and public restroom in America. Eventually pushbutton dispensers for gorillas and every other male primate on God’s green Earth would be made available.

They only accept credit cards for the fucking postage.

I tried, she was polite, I regret not telling her that I’d be recording the conversation as well for purposes having nothing to do with quality or customer service. I wasn’t recording, I just wish I’d said it.

I asked about ingredients. She was a little vague.

It’s on again. Stein has personally researched the product! He’s got golden signage on a pinkish brick facade. Five men, at least one of them gay, testify to having achieved a larger unit.

“Dr. Stein has lectured internationally and is a regular guest on a variety of television programs nationwide. He is also widely quoted as an authority on sexual health and medicine in popular magazines such as Redbook, Glamour, Cosmopolitan, and Mademoiselle.” -extenze.com

Pillars of responsible journalism all. I don’t care who this horse’s ass is, if he’s trying to convince me he’s got a pill that will make my dick bigger, he’s insulting my intelligence and that makes him an asshole and a potential sociopath.

“Special area of the male body”

“Male enhancement”

Now there’s a full on infomercial with three broads on a couch answering questions like, “When did you first discover size?” They have taken over the airwaves.

This is the cheesiest most resolute pandering to the lowest common denominator goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.

It may be gratuitous to mention, but my male membership has recieved consistent praise. I’m a Douglass after all.

“Size is a big thing”

“The most easiest product I’ve taken”

Unfuckingbelievable.

The fact that this broadcast makes it into my living room is an example of the millions of idiots breathing my air.

This angers me.

“synergistic blend”

For men who are not only dipshits, but tragically under endowed.

Doctor Stein is creepy as a septic tank.

I understand there’s been a Chupacabra sighting in Texas by a fat cop with an onboard camera.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, welcome to the Dope Show.

This shit with Georgia and Russia scares the piss out of me. We got nuthin. Not a damn thing. Lest ye think them that talks tough are brave, trust me when I tell you they are instead, stupid. We got nuthin.

See what I’m saying?

Drinks for my friends.

McCain: “In The 21st Century Nations Don’t Invade Other Nations”

Sheezus!

This from a moron who doesn’t understand the difference between Sunni and Shia or that there even is one. This from a man so obtuse as to say in a primary debate that Americans are better off than four or eight years ago. This from a man so ignorant and stupid as to describe an appearance in Baghdad acommpanied by blackhawk helicopters and dozens of heavily armed soldiers as no different than a Sunday afternoon stroll in some bucolic American neighborhood.

Word is he’s thinking about Lieberman as a running mate. That beats Romney in absurdity by a mile.

The problem is that this idiot is a serious contender for President of The United States. The problem is that there are that many dipshits voting.

Obviously, Iraq means America and the Bush administration have virtually no credibility or authority regarding the conflict between Russia and Georgia. So absent either in fact, they look silly trying to talk about it.

Russia has basically invited Dumbya to piss up a rope.

The Keystone Cops, indeed.

Next we have this asswipe, Jerome Corsi, dropping another turd of a tome filled with copious quantities of complete bullshit about Our Man. The aforementioned voters, well, the ones that can actually read, will no doubt hoover this crap like it’s the next New Testament or some cheesy bodice ripper with extra large print and a diminutive number of adjectives.

I cannot wrap my brain around the fact that this is even a contest. I’ve said that before. I doubt it’s the last time. I can’t help but lament what looks for all the world like willful ignorance. Ten percent still believe our man to be Muslim. So what if he was? Turns out he’s a Christian. At least he’s nondenominational. I have no more or less respect for Christians than Muslims. Why would I? I’ll bet the ratio between crazy fanatics and well intentioned altruists is near identical.

Who knows how many Muslims are pedophiles with autonomy granted by their faith?

Wake up. Muslims are no more a threat than any other group, religion or country on this bright blue marble. What will it take to convince the great unwashed to stop panicking at shadows and think for themselves?

People amaze me.

For the record, I’m reading Vincent Bugliosi’s “The Prosecution of George W. Bush for Murder” and he’s pretty pissed. On Deck is Pasty McSquinty’s “What Happened”. I’m really looking forward to Ron Suskind’s new one.

Whatever.

Drinks for my friends.

The amount of energy my father poured into my brother, his first son, is more or less equal to the amount my brother devoted to me. I’m saying it was considerable. He is ten years and ten days older than me. From my father’s first, brief, failed marriage. From an impossibly broken home; some seven step fathers if I remember right.

Trust me when I tell you I had excellent parents. Perfect? No goddamn way. Solid, sound and wise? Yep. Check.

There just happened to exist a window in my development whereupon some original influence could be life altering and existential.

His wind first blew when I was nine or ten. A letter of immaculate script delivered by a sheriff’s deputy. He was living in Phoenix and looking for his father. I was in awe of his handwriting. Looping, consistent and artful. To this day when he takes a pen, it’s a river and a breeze on paper.

He appeared on our porch one Sunday afternoon after we’d gone taunting carp and slow moving trout with corn on a hook at the Carson River. He was a hippie, an idealist and a profound influence in my young life. To say that I admired him is an understatement.

Asleep in a floppy hat and a fringed leather jacket on our astro turfed awning covered deck in front of the new doublewide. Hair past his shoulders and a long mustache. His rusty, primered and bondoed Karman-Ghia, filled with stereo equipment, LPs and massive speakers, sat in front of the mailbox.

He moved into the living room and we made friends. He bought an H0 scale slot car set and performance kits for us to modify the cars. Balsa gliders so we could battle each other. He taught or exposed me to a huge variety of things. Music, art, drugs.

Most people aren’t what they seem. Despite what eventually transpired, I believe he is what he seemed. A loving and compassionate young man who sought the acceptance, love and respect of his new family. He had a charisma that may only be gained from a assload of adversity.

He played music for me and we talked about it. At length. He taught me how to listen, illustrating the role of individual instruments and how they worked to support melody and rythm. Without a doubt, his influence is the the most compelling reason for my pursuit and eventual success as a record producer and engineer. He’s also the reason I’m seriously embarrassed to reveal how much I’ve spent on my own stereo.

He went to work for my father pouring concrete. Most nights after work, he’d shower and we’d drive my dad’s orange Datsun pick up, “The Pumpkin”, to the 7-11 for Doritos and Pepsi. He’d smoke a joint on the way and we’d put on a record when we got back.

Eventually he rented a trailer my parents owned a short bike ride away. I spent a lot of time there. By this time it was my job to select what we’d listen to. I have no memory of us ever watching television. I chose between Joe Walsh, ZZ Top, Deep Purple, Tommy Bolin, Led Zeppelin, Phoebe Snow, The Ohio Players, The Who, The Average White Band, Bachman Turner Overdrive, Supertramp, The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac………and I discovered the magical, perhaps symbiotic relationship between records and bong rips.

See, it wasn’t just the music and the drugs. It was the packaging of the LP itself. The way they smelled, the artwork and the liner notes and credits.

Heady and abundant times. He was singularly responsible for opening my eyes to a world I never knew existed. The other side of everything.

By the time I was fourteen. he’d married a wonderful woman that we all adored. It didn’t last. Probably his fault because he went down pretty fast after that. I became de facto marriage counselor one summer. I spent hours on the phone late into night with both of them. I hoped it could be saved. She was beautiful inside and out but she was eighteen. He was at the beginning of the end of growing up and it wasn’t going well. He’d already morphed into a member of a biker gang with a nickel plated .357 magnum in his saddlebags.

Drinks for my friends.

Americans have become so painfully obsessed with morality we’ve all but abandonded ethics.

Too many steer by some absurd moral compass as opposed to basic rules that any group of humans should abide.

I’ll put that another way and not to make you more comfortable. We’re so ridiculously consumed with judgement and diving for a role to render it, we’ve abandoned common sense and the idea of walking in the shoes of another.

Tragic in more ways than one could possibly swing a dead cat.

The rub is thus, morality is nebulous and subjective. More than vulnerable to wrongheaded interpretation. Ethics are hard and fast rules, based more on the doctrine of ‘do unto others’, rather than the ‘don’t covet thy neighbor’s wife’ school of thought.

See? One is Jello. The other is currency.

Don’t bother telling me I can’t lust. I have no control over it and refuse to beat myself up for it.

Those who value morals over ethics, go home, cook up some lime Jello and cover your gold bullion with it. If you’re not rich, you’re obviously stupid. If you’re stupid, try mayonnaise and pineapple on top. It’s tasty.

The wealthy can afford to perpetuate a moral code of their own because they have money to cover their asses and it’s a wonderful vehicle for them to exert influence and control.

We have ethics. Trust me when I tell you it’s better to have ethics than the morals of anyone else.

Pineapple and kiwi make my tongue itch and swell. The sides of my tongue will then chafe against my bottom molars and cause considerable discomfort for a few days.

Morality inevitably sucks compassion and sensitivity out of a society if allowed to commence without check.

I have my own moral code. I struggle with it. It is mine, I’ve no desire to foist it on anyone else. I may have set my bar a bit high but it’s better than too low.

At the same time, I expect that others will not steal from me, betray me, treat anyone without equality or kill anyone I love. These are ethics.

They seem elementary. They are. There is a myriad of ways to break these simple rules, however.

My particular morals are an extension of ethics. As it should be, but they are my individual rules. I decide these things myself. They are mine. I endeavor to keep them to myself.

But, I’ll share a little for the sake of example. I do not betray confidence, especially if I understand that something bad has happened. I wouldn’t protect a serial killer mind you, let’s just say I possess secrets that will never experience sunlight on my behalf because it wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.

I don’t care who you fuck, why or how, as long as it’s consensual and not my girlfriend. I believe war is immoral unless we’re attacked or know for sure we will be. I believe the rich should help the poor and shouldn’t seek tax loopholes or to hide their filthy lucre in offshore accounts.

I believe I don’t want fuck all to do with your church, your thoughts on abortion, sex, contraception, civil rights et. all. Those are morals generated and perpetuated by a religious bureaucracy that is absent accountability or logic and insists on defying the brick and mortar fundament of ethics.

It is unethical in every way to fuck little boys or exploit the poor by taking their money. It is a betrayal and a theft to posit that God favors one political candidate over another. It is a betrayal to insist creationism is taught in any classroom or to withold any information about birth control.

Any grey area associated with issues like these are afforded by someone’s morality. Ethics remain crystal clear.

I trust my friends to go further. We are friends and I will not take advantage, exploit or lie to them. My real friends see it the same way. We are here to support and enrich each other. I try very hard not to lie to anyone.

If I don’t give a mad fuck about you, I might lie to you. Morals.

Drinks for my friends.

I watched the American Women’s Gymnastics team at the Olympics tonight and had two thoughts:

They are amazing. They tease and defy gravity with muscle and balance. Fascinating and compelling.

I felt vaguely pervy as these are not women, but girls, who’s physical maturity has been suspended by vigorous athleticism.

It goes without saying, as an enthusiastic supporter of John Edwards, as someone who believes in him and his message, I am profoundly disappointed with the news today. I feel for his wife, his family and his miserable self.

I will always insist, regardless of an individual’s political affiliation, or anything else really, that private life should remain private. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a public figure or not. Absent crimes with victims, it’s simply not our business.

I’m disgusted by the sensationalism and exploitation that has no doubt just begun to gather volume and velocity.

The train has left the station.

I refuse to judge any married man or woman who would stray. It’s not my place and I’m confident it’s not yours.

Nonetheless, reality is unrelenting, so my anger and disdain are acute and I’m plenty pissed off. As David Gergen so adroitly pointed out on CNN, he knew exactly what he was doing as he sought the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. Were he to have prevailed in that contest, we’d be witnessing the comprehensive implosion of Democratic hopes for the White House as well as a severely deleterious shitstorm for the party.

Irresponsible, wreckless and reeking of hubris.

An incredibly dumb move.

I do believe his intentions to help Joe Six Pack and the less fortunate, were and are sincere, but I’m furious over such selfish and stupid judgement.

It’s almost certain that his political aspirations have come to an abrupt end. I believe it is the least he deserves. He was clearly willing to jeopardize the entire future of America in her most dire of times and that really, really sucks. Therefore, so does he.

Did he endorse and probably encourage torture? Did he send thousands of Americans and hundreds of thousands of Iraqis to their deaths for a lie? Did he flout our Constitution? Did he deliberately break the backs of our middle class by further enriching the already filthy rich?

The answer is no.

He ran a spotless campaign.

Would he have made a good President?

My opinion is absolutely yes.

It is abundantly clear however, that he doesn’t deserve to be the leader of the free world any more than George W. Bush ever has.

That is a fact that saddens me more than you know.

Fuck me, this sucks. It’s gonna leave a mark. It’s gonna leave a stain.

Drinks for my friends.

Read this:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bob-cesca/protecting-mccains-ignora_b_117565.html

Then clue me in as to how to post a goddamn link. Yes, LO I know you did but I lost it.

is ridiculously hot.

What we have here, is a letter. A forged letter. A letter penned by our CIA at the behest of our White House.

The letter was intended to allow Dick-in-Bush, both hands empty of WMD, to save some face. Oh, and to continue propagating the fear so masterfully wielded ’til now.

This, after unilaterally invading a sovereign state that posed no threat to us. The neocons were looking to avoid the visual of nothing but empty sand running through their fingers.

Of course, there’s the eighty billion dollar oil surplus in Iraq. Wanna bet who gets that? I bet we won’t hear shit about it after tommorrow.

There are laws on the books forbidding any American intelligence agency from distributing false propaganda or disinformation in any territory controlled by the United States including, of course, all fifty states.

A guy named Tahir Jalil Habbush, chief of Saddam’s intelligence.

A Pulitzer winning author who wrote the first real book detailing events behind the curtain of Dick-in-Bush, “The Price of Loyalty” (January 2004), about Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neill. Good book. The tip of the iceberg.

He wrote another book. It’s better than the other one. “The Way of the World: A Story of Truth and Hope in an Age of Extremism”

What is known:
The Bush administration ordered the CIA to fake a hand written letter from this guy Tahir Jalil Habbush to Saddam hisself. The letter details all things that never actually occured. It was meant to be proof that Hussein was pursuing the production of nuclear weapons AND that there was a direct connection between Iraq and al-Qaida.

The “memo” was dated July 1, 2001. It was written late in 2003. It says that 9/11 hijacker Mohammed Atta “received training in Baghdad for “attacking the targets that we have agreed to destroy” but also carefully noted the arrival of a “shipment” from Niger via Libya, presumably of uranium yellowcake, the sole export of that impoverished African country.” -salon.com

It’s complete bullshit. Beyond an elaborate falsehood, it is an egregiously distorted fabrication with nothing but a symbiotically enhanced affair between avarice and malice as impetus and catalyst. I may have just puked in my mouth a little.

Man, I hate these guys.

This all happened on George Tenet’s watch. He, along with Franks and Bremer, recieved the Presidential Medal of Freedom. These two facts make Tenet a pock-faced scumbag.

Ladies and Germs, this is your government. This is your government on greed and lust of all things power.

At this point, I’d like to invite any backward ass Republican to explain to me what concerns he or she the most. Just what, beyond this little snippet of potentially embarrassing information, might cause unrest among you?

Is it oil?
Sorry, they fucked that up.

Is it the economy?
Sorry, they fucked that up too.

The enviroment?
Bad news boys and girls.

Health care?
Ehem. Whoops?

National Security?
Fuck me.

The entire geopolitical dynamic from debts and deficits to human rights and respect?
Um. Fuck. Me.

Drinks for my friends.

I find myself again in position to beg your indulgence for the day’s most prominent issue.

See, what I can’t quite digest is the idea that somehow Our Man’s biggest liability has become his charisma. The great unwashed have been convinced to be suspicious of Obama’s incredible gravity.

They pay no time or mind to why he’s in possession of such copious magnetism. What the hopeful see in him. They have yet to ask themselves exactly why he is so special.

Instead, they choose to impugn him for it. Millions of knees jerking in unison.

Ignorant fucks.

Why?

Fear.

Fear of the unfamiliar. Fear of anything they have been too afraid to attempt to understand.

Cowardice. The real sissies in America are the intellectually incurious. They hide behind it to be judgmental and intolerant.

Fuck me if that isn’t silly. Ignorance as shield is no excuse.

An open mind does not make one more vulnerable. It does make one far more likely to be enlightened.

Like compulsory probing by my tongue of a sore in my mouth, I can’t seem to help checking things twice.

I don’t understand why other people don’t do that. It’s simple. And the world is a huge ass canker.

Maybe these idiots aren’t suffering from the advanced, potentially cancerous scurvy Dick-in-Bush have left us liberals with. It’s a conspiracy!

It’s either that or they’re really stupid. Or both.

If you’re considering voting for McCain, I don’t doubt you’re among at least half of the people discussed in this blog and you may just be a complete idiot.

After all, I hear they can make “pancakes tapdance”. -Paul Mooney

Drinks for my friends.

Forgive me for indulging yet again in the topic of the most singular contest of the day, but the news is a little slow and I needed to point out that McCain is waltzing with the Devil and he sucks at dancing in three.

Doubtfire accuses Our Man of naivete by disparaging his advice to keep your car properly tuned and your tires at pressure.

It makes sense. Three or four percent savings off the top. Immediately. Good answer.

It is the most honest short term solution that has been uttered thus far. Like sixteen cents a gallon right now.

The Bootlicker would mock our man for this. Passing out tire pressure gauges with “Obama’s Energy Plan” printed on them. Clueless dickhead.

Our man had this to say, “It’s like these guys take pride in being ignorant,” -CNN

Nice.

McCain likes to talk about Obama not favoring nuclear power. A “zero emission” energy resource, he’d have you believe.

Bullshit. We still have no idea what to do with the waste. It occurs to me that the most indefectibly toxic, and therefore deadly waste known to humans, waste we have no place to put, renders the zero emission argument way bogus.

Until we figure out what to do with nuclear waste, it’s a spectacularly dumb idea.

The pasty little bastard would also have you believe because Our Man opposes anything but the most limited offshore drilling, he’s an elitist who doesn’t feel your pain.

See, here’s the deal, no matter how much oil they find off our coasts, it won’t amount to dick for a decade and not fuck all even then. McCain was in opposition to more domestic drilling than had already been approved until last month, when he changed his mind.

That’s “flip flopped” in the accepted journalistic vernacular.

Guess what happened next?

His campaign contributions from big oil went up by five hundred percent. Oil is down about fifteen percent as of today. Go figure.

He released an ad today by the way. In that ad, nestled in a basket among half a dozen other spurious proclamations, is the assertion that he has and will continue to stand up to big oil.

This guy is full of shit. He’s got nothing so he’s starting to lie. He’s not here to fuck around. He tossing tactical nuke sized lies. Not mere falsehoods that smear his opponent. No. Lies that compromise his very own bad self. He’s a fool and he’s pitiful.

He’s a joke.

Beware The Ides of March Mr. McCain, lest ye be subject to the tyrannicide your would be predecessor and former adversary has so far escaped. His peril and that of his surrounding is far from decided.

Drinks for my friends.

What we have here……is a huge celebrity. Worldwide. Global. Looks like it’s a problem. Our Man, by virtue of charisma, an absolutely uncanny ability to communicate, to orate a fresh and hopeful message, not just to Americans, but a good number of this planet’s citizenry, may have doomed himself for being so goddamn adept at showing us there is a better way.

Two hundred thousand plus showed up in Berlin.

What a shame, that so many of have grown so cynical as to stare so arrogantly into the mouth of this gift horse.

What a shame, that upon finally being presented with the real deal, so many many of us can’t help but be convinced that he must be an elitist. An arugula eating snob because he talks to the people of the world like adults.

I confess, I like arugula a lot. My favorite is a dish with perfectly grilled polenta, a thick vinegarette and a generous amount of gorgonzola. I get it to go and put a little Bob’s on top when I get home.

With the exception of the Bob’s, the other ingredients would probably lead most of the great unwashed to assume I’m an enthusiastic pole smoker. Were I to mention that it pairs well with a nice blanc de blancs, well then, I’m sure they’d be willing to assume the worst, that it’s not the only salad I’m willing to toss. Whatever.

They would be right. I don’t imbibe penis, but have no problem with those that deign to do so, regardless of gender. It goes without saying, I encourage and applaud the females. I am a progressive individual in both thought and deed.

I love sushi and crave caviar.

I believe health care should be free or at least affordable for the people of the richest country on earth. I think we should stop shaking our fists at countries that disagree with us. In fact, I really would prefer that we stopped bombing all the brown people. After all, the back of the most formidable military in the history of the world has been rent asunder by that very policy.

We should do our best to stop sucking our planet dry and instead utilize what the universe offers for free. The sun and the wind and the tide.

Know what else I like? Risotto. When prepared with care, it is like the most delicately textured pasta imaginable, in the unlikeliest pellet form. Mushrooms. Get it with mushrooms and aged parmesan.

I think we should legalize most drugs. Tax and regulate them to eliminate the criminal infrastructure and mitigate the astounding numbers of incarcerated that we pay for on top of the ridiculous “war on drugs”. On the other hand, it may suprise you to know that I’m thinking maybe anyone dealing meth or in the business of propagating it, might be better off dead.

Ever had a perfectly BBQ’d pork chop with a really good zinfandel?

You know what really chaps my ass? The erosion of our civil rights and liberties. FISA. Posse Comitatus. The Patriot Act. Amendments One and Four. All of the aforementioned have been severely and egregiously advanced in the last seven years while we voluntarily popped our thumbs into our asses and looked the other way because we were scared.

The most successful society in the history of humankind allowed itself to be frightened by it’s own so thoroughly, it’s literally frozen at the wheel. A deer in the headlights.

Both. Ha!

Try this:
Find a place with good, thin shoestring fries. Squeeze a lemon over them. Apply salt, preferably from the sea. Dip in mayonnaise and/or ketchup. I’m not a big beer drinker but most beers work well with this. Stick to lighter ones. Hefe weizen, pilsner and most authentic lagers work nicely.

I’m going to hold out two hands. You’ll need to pick one. Fair warning, in one hand is the very aggressive sale of fear and doubt. Let me know if you want me to tell you which hand it is.

I’ve started eating chili cheese fries. So far, Carl’s sets the bar.

I hear Cheney won’t be at the convention. Fuck me, that’s funny.

Drinks for my friends.

The day is quiet.

The day is warm.

Bright sun, though the forest floor is cool. I look at my feet, fascinated by the flotsam I’m crunching through. My boots are rugged. There’s a long knife on my belt. It’s the golden hour.

A few minutes go by and it’s wrong. It pulls at me. Foreboding.

I have no idea. More time passes.

Something is upside down.

Where am I going?

Where am I?

Find a rock to sit to think. Confused.

I don’t know why I’m here or where I am.

I take stock and seem to be allright.

I wear an elaborate pack with food and water and things I don’t immediately recognize or understand. Good news.

I’m left to wonder.

A bag of bricks slowly around my neck as I realize I don’t know my own name.

I don’t know who I am.

Panic floods. It gushes overwhelmingly through every corridor of reason in my head.

I’m as lost as can be.

I do not know my own name.

I don’t know where I am.

Anything I recall happened in the last thirty minutes.

No sign of my identity anywhere. No wallet. Nothing in anything I carry.

I have a gun. It’s heavy in my hand. The weight is reassuring. I have a box of bullets. It too is heavy in a way that comforts.

The knife on my hip has an impressive blade and a hollow handle. Tablets inside.

The sun sets and I have no idea why I’m here or who the fuck I am.

I gather stones and fuel to start a fire. Freeze dried scrambled eggs in a wafer thin skillet.

What is my name?

How can I not know?

I’m doing the best I can not to think about it. I feel familiar in my skin but that’s all. I hope, maybe, to wake up with a better idea of what’s happening. I unroll a sleeping bag filled with down and a thin pad for underneath.

I find some cigarettes. I guess I smoke. I light one. It’s good.

I realize I have no idea about the state of the world. This scares the shit out of me.

My dreams are filled with people I don’t know.

There’s blue kittens in an ancient wooden box, thick with dust and long abandonded cobwebs. Their eyes are gold and their fur is from turquoise to cobalt. I am in awe.

Among the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen or imagined.

Sheer grace of the twilight dance, I’m allowed to witness such beauty firsthand, despite it’s not existing, courtesy of the nocturne aided by a pale, butter fat moon.

Gorgeous Blue Kittens with gems of yellow fire for eyes.

As I sleep.

I can’t stand it. It just goes on and on.

Blatant.

Notwithstanding reason.

Geniuses and Jack O’ Lanterns.

The issue is this.

Abortion.

The right tries so hard to call it murder. Ahem.

It is far more nuanced and organic than that. They only do black and white.

Mother Earth will ultimately decide the the fate of humankind. She will be fine. She will prosper. The Earth does not need us. All the Earth needs is the goddamn Sun. Last I heard, the sun is gonna be around awhile.

Earth may decide that humans are no longer compatible with her goals. Her ideals. No longer congruent with her plan for survival. In a time not far from now, The Earth might shrug us humans off. She might just heat up and burn us out.

If she does this, She’ll have decided we do more harm than good.

If she does this, She’ll have decided to save her life and that of all her other inhabitants.

Who can blame her?

Maybe we’ve been tolerated thus far because we advanced so rapidly. We emerged as a species so very capable. So bright and creative. We made art and beauty while either reaching out with compassion and concern to everyone, or raping, bombing and killing every civilization in sight.

We stormed her peaks, plunged her depths and polluted her lungs. She’s seen us kill on a scale that is both awesome and terrifying. In a mere few thousand years, we developed the ability to destroy just about every life she births and nurtures.

She is impressed. Not in a good way.

Earth doesn’t need your language. You need hers. It’s not as simple as humans not understanding. It’s as ugly as humans refusing to understand. Willfull ignorance.

Mother Earth may choose to abort us. It is certainly her right and obviously within her power.

The Earth is a Mother and it is her prerogative.

Men have no business passing laws governing a woman’s reproductive rights.

Any of you at this point desiring to invoke God should just shut the fuck up. My God is The Earth. In precisely the same way you do not wish to hear about my God, I’m not interested in hearing about yours. Fuck off. I think your’s is stupider by far, than mine.

It is my right to enter into a decision with a woman about our pregnancy as opposed to allowing a religion manufactured from convenience dictate our direction without regard to our lives.

The comedy is this. You that have so much faith, so much conviction that we are acting counter to the wishes of your God, why are you so unwilling to let your God decide?

Why are you so zealous as to kill doctors to prevent us from committing this “sin”? After all, your God will sort us out, wont he? If you believe so absolutely, what are you so worried about?

Is your faith so weak as to force a question about your God’s ability to keep us heathens in check? A question profound enough to force your hand to take it upon yourself? You will say that we imprison others in society who commit murder. We even murder them. I say your definition of murder is flawed and you’re not equipped to judge.

You do your cause no favors by vehemently opposing such basic science as evolution and stem cell research. You force the hands of us with a modicum of common sense to look at you as retarded. Overly enthusiastic, euphorically fanatical, idiots.

Isn’t it your God that would deny us access to Heaven for using condoms?

Some people are stupid enough to believe contraception is a “sin”. This in a time when the world has way too many humans. Some people are just fucking stupid.

Abortions will occur. With or without your consent. The rich will have them no matter what laws you’re able to pass. The poor will suffer. Ill equipped to even bring a baby to term. Unable to afford any prenatal care. From a practical perspective, I’m just looking to keep the coat hangers out of it.

Drinks for my friends.