Archive for the ‘Michael Phelps’ Category

Our Man admits he “screwed up”.

One word. Wow. Or maybe, fuckmerunnin.

I’ll state the obvious by pointing out it’s the first time we’ve heard any thing like that in about eight years.

Geitner’s imbroglio was one thing but Daschle’s had become a flaming sack of canine fecal matter on very well known doorstep. Quite another thing, see. I’m confident Our Man ordered it removed. He’s not stupid. He’s doubled the IQ of previous occupants of the big White House on his own.

Sucks cause I really like Tom Daschle. He would have been very effective. Big loss. I think that’s where the rubber met the road here. Obama, being the erudite individual so many of us fell in love with, realized that Daschle was one of the few individuals with the respect and gravitas to spearhead genuinely efficacious healthcare reform. A player.

He knew he was perhaps the best man for the job and therefore America’s best shot at equitable, decent and affordable medicine.

Sad. Daschle screwed the pooch. He did it to his own self. He mayhap would’ve rocked.

This business about Michael Phelps potentially arrested for being photographed doing a bong rip is absurd. Leon Lott, the sheriff of Richland county South Carolina is rather obviously a publicity slut. I like the message, however inadvertently, Phelps is sending. Even record breaking olympian athletes can and should smoke the Devil’s foliage if they want to.

If more Republicans did they would be less inclined to wipe their dicks on their own drapes.

It’s fine with me if you don’t as long as you take no exception to those that do. I should point out that if you read me regularly, you understand that I’m fond of beelzebub’s garden. Yes, I’m on the pot. I also like Bombay Saphire ($28.88 this week at Ralph’s), Vicodon, Percoset, Cheladas and Xanax roughly in that order.

We’re gonna go ahead and nickname him ‘Leon The Lott’ in case he’s stupid enough to pursue this.

I’m trying to make a point but nothing happens.

Denny’s gave away a free breakfast today and I can’t believe I missed it.

Drinks for my friends.

God is good, God is great, thank you for the food on this plate.

My three favorite words: Former President Bush.

What sort of populace gets behind a John McCain and a Sarah Palin? Sheezus.

Barack Hussein Obama is our new President. A lovely, classy and intelligent wife, Michelle Obama, is our new First Lady. Along with Malia and Sasha we have a shining new First Family.

Kinda golden.

Already so much light and hope against such obvious contrast of our last First Family and the politics of fear the entire administration breathed and exhaled. Dark, evil bastards. Insert stir sticks into each of their penises because they all sucked so bad. Yes Condi too.

Pricks.

The pooch could not have been screwed any harder, more egregiously or with any more violence. History will judge, in a matter of fact fashion and the administration of George W. Bush will either be seen as the catalyst for the end of humankind or the worst in in American history. Pray for the latter.

With all my anticipation, hope, skepticism, doubt and excitement, I still can barely believe this is happening. Such a profound accomplishment, such a miraculous turn of events. I’m only able to liken it to some monumental but individual achievement. Lance Armstrong or Michael Phelps. Unbelievable humans but it really is so much bigger than that.

Exponentially larger.

The thing is this; one man has inspired an entire nation more than enough for it’s people to move in concert with a singular purpose.

Surreal indeed. Huge. In the context of world history, in the course of human events, massive, a gravity all its own.

So very disillusioned, disenchanted and disgusted with my fellow Americans, I wasn’t able to imagine a day like today. There were times so long and bleak, I assumed we were lost. Too far gone. Eight long years with every bigot, redneck, head in the sand ignorant bastard, gleefully but unwittingly complicit in America’s demise. The great unwashed appeared to have prevailed. All the good and the just forgotten and those who had dared pay attention could no longer be bothered to care. Stupidity and apathy ruled the day.

I championed Kucinich for his outrageous honesty. I still adore The Little Paste Eater. Then Edwards for his sincere populism and what I saw as enough charisma to make him electable. I will tell you that a year or so ago, I didn’t believe Our Man had a chance. I never doubted him, I did however, underestimate the American people. Forgive me, I had every reason.

Best mistake I’ve ever made. As thrilled as I’ve ever been to be completely wrong.

He began to remind us that this thing was not about him, it was about us. He was right. Unmistakably. That really is the short answer to how this happened. It was his confidence, composure, intelligence and cool. It was his message, his conviction and the unmitigated, egalitarian truth of what he was telling us.

The other thing is this; he does not hesitate to remind, this is about us. In other words, if we fail to stay engaged, forget to pay attention and participate, we will be lost. Exactly how we got this far is how we will succeed. Nothing less will do. He tells us without reluctance that he will falter. He says as much to let us know that when he does, the onus is ours to rise up and be heard.

He’s does not merely ask us. He’s telling us.

It is obvious that Our Man is antithetical to the last man we called leader. One hundred eighty degrees opposite. Phase shift complete. A crisp, abrupt and elegant reversal of ideas and approach. Above all, inclusive as opposed to exclusive. The size of government matters far less than whether or not it actually works.

He stands and he will deliver. He is extraordinarily capable and adroit, but each of us must assume responsibility. Individually and collectively.

He’s telling us this won’t work unless we are right here with him, his family and all the lawmakers and bureaucrats around him. Without you and I, America executes a pristine belly flop, an immaculate face plant, an end of times as we understand them.

Let me explain something else to you. Real Blues music is there to make you happy, not sad. See, they sing and play about hard times but The Blues is about performance and passion. If it’s real you walk away with a smile and your heart is a little bit lighter.

If it’s real, it’s like putting your hand in rich dark soil and coming up with an onion or a fat carrot.

I’m here to tell you that since there is no rest for the wicked, there is barely a lungfull for the rest of us.

Miles to go before we sleep.

Drinks for my friends.