Archive for the ‘the Pantsuit’ Category

From last Friday evening until the day ballots are cast across this country on November four, people en masse have finally begun to search their hearts and their minds.

The Presidential campaign has commenced.

The majority of Americans who actually intend to vote have begun to wake up in the morning and think about it, have lunch and devote a few minutes of thought to it, or go home and discuss it with their significant other, as of Friday night.

They’ve also begun to consume mainstream media without discrimination and with more appetite than we’ve seen in a while. I’m alarmed by this but at least they’re curious.

The first debate. A Clash of Titans.

Campaign season officially and unoffiicially started September Twenty Six, the day of the first confrontation.

There was record viewership of the conventions, but it really begins with the first debate. I’ve been watching this thing and writing about it for two years. If you’re at all like me, you understand where I’m going with this. We are consistent in our responsibility to pay attention. We have tracked and monitored candidates from all parties and given no quarter to those who run off the rails.

Here comes the great unwashed.

I nailed The Pantsuit over and over with one of those guns that actually shoot nails. Very cool invention.

Optimistically and with unfounded enthusiasm I supported Kucinich. I knew he wouldn’t last but I wanted him to get as far as his little heart could. A bright and honest man. The Little Paste Eater. Then it was Edwards because of his sincere populist message. He championed the poor. Another good and bright man, this time with an assload of charisma. Oh well.

He turned out to be a dick, not for what he did, but for what he didn’t do. Honesty. He even lied to himself.

I’ve always liked Obama, but having been the poster child for unrealistic expectations in past elections, you can perhaps understand my reluctance. A black man named Barack Hussein Obama. Forgive me, but a name like that at a time like this?

I wrote with conviction a year and a half ago that this man although gifted, had not a hope in hell. That was my belief.

What happened next was extraordinary. It was an all star season at the DNC. He not only prevailed over a field of excellent candidates, he went toe to toe with the Clinton Juggernaut and handed them their ass on a bone china platter garnished with new potatos and parsley. Awesome. Don’t you dare question his balls.

Whipping the Clintons, when Hills would NOT let go, is a bigger feat for a Democrat, a more formidable task for an African American male Democrat, than for anyone of the Republican hopefuls. It bears pointing out that they were all losers. McCain did turn out to be the best they had. Sheezus.

If after the debate, you were disappointed by the lack of punches thrown, I understand. But you need to know that we have a man that is smarter than us again. Elitist. Bigots and racists say uppity. More intelligent. He’s roughly my age but he’s so much smarter. He knows what he’s doing.

He could be really good you know. The best choice you have ever been afforded unless you are old enough to have voted for JFK or RFK. If you voted for either of them, you’re probably with me here.

Time to pay attention. 9/11 happened on this watch. This economic venting of radiation and the subsequent meltdown, predicted and predictable. Happening on this watch. Same watch. These guys suck. They’re fucking clowns. This is blind, shithouse absurd.

I didn’t realize it but there’s a part two of Couric’s interview of Palin tomorrow night. Oh boy. It is sad indeed that in the same election a woman sought and almost secured her party’s nomination for President, another woman comes along as a running mate for the other party. Actually, there’s nothing unfortunate about that at all. What is damn near heart rending is that the former was an intelligent capable woman with experience and the latter can best be sketched with one word. Bimbo.

You know what? Republicans are idiots.

And here’s another big deal. The surface and the subterranean, the face and the bone and muscle beneath this electorate are far different than anything we have ever seen in a national election. How many turn out and who they are, is and will be a wildcard of historic proportion. The youth vote. The previously disenfranchised who are now pissed, the cell phone generation. The cultural groundswell. SNL has parodied, brutally, the McCain campaign in one way or anther for the last three weeks. See, no current model takes this data into account.

It’s a wild ass card and it could be huge.

I have a crack team of analysts on the case. We’ll get back to you on this.

Drinks for my friends

Last night, I met a man named Elmer Pinto. He was recovering from an injury. I would describe him as swarthy.

I really like blood orange juice.

My girlfriend, not so much. This works in my favor. The penalty is heartburn.

I’ve become somewhat of a banker. The worst part is the monkey suit. Kenneth Cole baby.

All the sudden I’m doing mad math. That part of my brain is dusty and smells of moths and tadpoles in a bucket of stinking algae.

I’m not at all confused by this financial bronco, bucking and foaming with mad eyes. Destroying everything. I’ve been predicting it for years. It makes complete sense to me. Walk in the park. I understood that under Dick-in-Bush, the idea of an “ownership society” was complete crap. An absolute lie.

Our Man has known it for quite some as well. He’s been talking about this fallacy for years. Same as me. Great minds think alike. We don’t miss the obvious.

I watched Bill Maher tonight and learned that white women in America can be counted on to be abject bimbos, this includes Sarah Palin. Forgive me but this Palin phenomena is inexcusable. It’s a goddamn farce and her pantsuit is as empty as Dumbya’s Armani.

I never cared about the charges of sexism. It’s bullshit. She sucks and anyone with half a brain knows it. I won’t even contemplate an apology. She’s done nothing, been nowhere and doesn’t know shit. I know intelligent people that are buying it. I can’t figure it.

Join me. Be wary of it all. Be suspicious. Be incredulous. At least be fucking confused.

We’ve gone almost eight years under leadership by a suit painfully empty. Painfully empty. No responsible course of action on any major issue. Everything, every aspect of every major issue they chose to engage, has turned to shit. Inept, misguided, out of touch and criminal. Not necessarily in that order. It has all gone to shit.

How did we get here?

On a ship of fools. A trillion fucking dollars and we have no choice. No choice. Exponentially more severe than the S&L nightmare and the tech bubble. We’re hearing comparisons to the Great Depression from the mainstream media. Fuck me. Fuck you. We’re about to be a third world country.

So let’s keep spending a half a billion a day in Iraq. Great idea. For what again? Tell me why we’re there?

Johnny Deregulation and his Prince of peril, Phil Gramm have more fingers in this pie than the entire Democratic party. His suggestion was to commission a study. Yep, Doubtfire took the absolutely audacious and brazen step of proposing we look a bit harder at it. Get some eggheads in here to tell us what we already know. Brilliant.

Krugman on Maher says we’re fucked for a while. Krugman from the NYT and Princeton, is the real deal, tells it like it is. Naomi Klein says we’ve simply moved the disaster from Wall Street to Main Street. A debt that will explode on you and I. Count on it.

This is gonna suck.

Andrew Sullivan looks thinner to me. A gay conservative Republican who talks a lot of sense.

I loves me some Bill Maher. I hear he’s an arrogant prick. I don’t doubt it. A lead singer with lead singer disease. Moving right along.

Then there’s the notion of Mr. Obama for President.

You know, forgive me for oversimplifying, but what we have here is fear. It is fear of guilt. The older you are, the more likely you have participated in actual racism. Maybe you just tolerated it, but the fear among America’s middle aged and older is genuine. Many of them know they have behaved badly and they are afraid. Very reluctant to own it. Get over it you spineless pricks.

There it is. That is what we’re up against.

The idea that they’re willing to buy Sarah Palin and Doubtfire hook, line and sinker is proof of the rampant stupidity that infects them.

It is regoddamndiculous.

I know I’ve been here before. To warn you. Here I am again. To warn you. Help me out here. Let me know you’re listening, Tell me you’re passing it along. Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, work with me? Please.

It just doesn’t get any more important than this.

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.

It’s crazy. Where we are.

Interesting that I write about ’68 and it’s relevancy and a few days later CNN has a special report.

I’m prescient bitch!

The Pantsuit spoke today. I’m such a goddamn pushover. I liked it. I believed her. She needs to show us. I’m not about to let her off the hook. I think she’ll walk the walk. It was the best speech by her I’ve seen.

This will be fascinating. I promise you he will be evaluating her as VP while watching Big Bad Bill very closely. She’ll be interning in one way or another with a handful of other junior execs.

She did very well today. I am glad. I hate it when she sucks. I do like her. Kinda.

I used to tell young bands, the first trick is the record deal, the second trick is making a good record, the third trick is mastering the universe. Until you’ve completed the first two, don’t even think about the third.

I can’t wait for a debate between Our Man and the Little Bootlicker. I wanna see Doubtfire lose his cool. He cannot possibly hope to match wits with Our Man. Even if he’s firing on all cylinders, he’s simply not bright enough.

There will be no simpering or embarrassment by the party of the first part. It’s possible there will be some degree from the party of the second part.

Having said that, I urge you all to pay attention to this campaign. Please do so while keeping your wits about you. Notice the proud and capable man our party has selected. For over a year I’ve been saying what we need is as much change as we can get.

Now it hangs right in front of you.

I’m not here to bang a drum. I’m here to point things out. You may need me to point this out.

Vote for this cat. Barack Obama is the best we’ve seen in a long time and if you let this go, we’ll slide over an edge to land in something that will be our demise. We’re that close.

I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Grape jelly, chunky peanut butter. Choosey mothers choose JIF and I like Smuckers. I could hoover one. I see myself needing the Heimlich maneuver. An obscure German tank operation your grandparents feared.

Talking to all of you is great but I need to spend time thinking about teeth whitening options. Other things too. I admit I’m listening to Count Basie.

I can’t help it. He was a genius. Sounds like flowers. Fireworks or a starry night. Oh boy. I mean goddamn.

Drinks for my friends.

Nothing really happened.

A good friend I haven’t spoken to in at least twenty years left a message on my cell the other day. I called him back.

We talked for almost two hours just now. He’s a surgeon. Painfully bright and very funny. He used to puke out the window of my VW bug after an evening of Long Island Iced Teas when we were underage. Turns out he’s comedically conservative but we still have plenty in common. A welcome catharsis. Left me with a smile.

Watched about three quarters of NBA finals game one, had to switch to Stewart/Colbert. I hear the Celtics had their way. I’m in awe of how insipid post game punditry is. Phil Jackson fascinates though. He’s got a big ass brain.

Pro athletes aren’t typically the most articulate or eloquent.

I’m convinced Paul Pierce indulged us with a little thespianism. Ah well, effectively executed.

I understand the Pantsuit invited our man over to her pad in DC tonight for some face time and maybe a little arm wrestling. Think they watched the game and played a little one on one? How tall is he? Can he dunk? The skinny thus far tells of something private and fairly intimate. I’m guessing she was looking to make her case on her own turf. Fundamental Art of War, chapter one.

I wonder how much we’ll actually learn about it.

My ear feed says now they didn’t meet at her place. Whatever. Her favorite saloon then. The staff knows her and doesn’t pay a mind when she gets heated and brandishes a nickel plated Smith & Wesson.

This just in from Yahoo News: “Obama is seeking to become the first black president”. This is gonna be huge. Who saw this coming? Not just President, but the very first negro one. Watch this story catch fire. We in journalism predict it will have “legs”.

I picture the Pantsuit getting tipsy and surly. I don’t think Michelle is with him. I see Hills lunge for his crotch with crazy eyes. Bill cackles freely in the very next room. He’s watching TV with a voluptuous young brunette but the sound is off. Terry McAuliffe, I think of him as “Chip”, is on premises. Chip is in the nearest closet rubbing one out. Launching a bootlace as it were.

The Secret Service is pulling their hair out. They hate this shit.

Chelsea spends hour after hour applying and re-applying makeup while reading Nabokov.

Our man pretends to answer his phone. He nods and grunts. He makes apologies and informs everyone that he has a sick daughter at home. Pleasantries are exchanged. His limo actually squeals out of the driveway. Inside, a handful of people including the Senator, laugh with relief as they pull onto the road.

In an oddly portentous and perhaps not unrelated development, a profoundly disturbed team of Dick-in-Bush surrogates are poised at the grave of one Richard Milhous Nixon. They are well appointed with tools to move earth. The idea is to resurrect as much black dripping hate as can be had. The operation is code named “ANWR”.

You may think this is a sign of desperation. It is. Relax though, Republicans have long courted the supernatural. Look how pale they are. You know those big ticket fundraisers behind closed doors? There’s a guy in a monkey suit walking by every couple minutes with a tray full of crackers quivering with gelatinous eye of newt. They drink blood mixed with absinthe at these things.

There is wife swapping, drug smoking and therefore a fair number of libertarians. Ross Perot is passing out mints in the bathroom trying to muscle in on the tips meant for the attendant.

And you thought liberals knew how to have fun.

This one is for you Lance.

Drinks for my friends.

What a difference a day makes. Twenty four little hours.

The Pantsuit is gonna walk as of Saturday.

The jury is still out on whether she’s coveting assistant manager or just pining to be asked.

The nail in that tire is Big Bad Bill. He’s made it pretty obvious the last few months that he’s a House Afire. Doesn’t appear as he can help it. I’ve been a William Jefferson fan for near two decades. Not perfect but one hell of a human as well as a damn good President.

Without a doubt, he’s been pissing on a few parades lately while shilling for his wife the Pantsuit. Ugly. Kind of ironic that he’s suddenly a boat anchor attached to her chances for for any gig better than crew chief. The way they behaved, I’d start them both at the fry station and shitter duty.

What Bill can giveth, Bill may taketh away.

Were Hills to become our VP, I’m pretty sure I’d come to loathe our man. I’m not looking forward to that.

What I’d like to see is Bubba as Secretary of State. He would rock that shit. Diplomacy, without his wife as an imperative, is a suit he wears better than anyone.

Some pundit floated the idea of Joe Biden the other day. We likes us some Biden. He’s a bit of a loose lipped cashier, however. My Mother suggested Edwards for AG. Awesome. Other ideas for VP are Wes Clark and Ed Rendell.

I like Clark. Solid. Four Star General. Screwed the pooch by starting his last bid for President way too late. West Point valedictorian and Rhodes Scholar among other things. This guy is smart and might be a good choice given the size of his lumber in a national security debate.

I don’t know much about Ed Rendell. Governor of Pennsylvania. Seems to be kind of a blowhard but not stupid. Not VP material.

What matters most today is how the Pantsuit comports herself over the next little while. Anything less than grace, gratitude, respect and sincere enthusiasm will not pass. I’m sure it sucks to be her right now but it’s time to man up. There’s still a much bigger picture to be painted.

The world will wait until Saturday, but it wouldn’t hurt to get started sooner. Nice start at AIPAC today even though they kinda suck. Time to be classy and cooperative. Don’t be stupid. Send Bill on holiday and show us you give a mad fuck.

Drinks for my friends.

Today I was thinking everyone should just shut the fuck up. Hold your breath. Plug your nose. Whatever you gotta do, just shut the fuck up.

Just wait for it, because it’s coming.

I’d submerged myself in volcanic mud with a straw to breath through and and an IV for gin and Cheez Whiz until sometime near the end of the week. Sharp cheddar, bacon and Bombay Sapphire varieties. I figured, if it’s not over by then, I’ll take a belt sander to my sack o’ testes.

I think it’s time for me to emerge from my bath.

Something definitive this way comes. Regardless of the Pantsuit’s speech tonight, pregnant with hubris, she’s done and she knows it. It’s over. The proverbial voluptuous diva has busted forth with a lyricism not at all lugubrious. Her song is replete with optimism and triumph. The melody is gorgeous and memorable.

Meanwhile, regrettably, Big Bad Bill went off again yesterday. He called Vanity Fair contributor Todd Purdum a “scumbag” and “Slimy”. Bill needs a vacation. He gives me pause when I picture him has co-assistant manager. His presence could and probably would disrupt the symmetry of an Obama Oval Office, the balance of which will already be historically precarious. He consistently gives me pause.

The epitome of the alpha male. Exactly why he was such a goddamn good President as well as the quintessential hot mess. I’m not sure the elixer that is Bill Clinton would be an appropriate mixer in the cocktail of an Obama Presidency. What was once a tasty ingredient may have spoiled into something ruinously bitter.

On paper, he’d be Second Lady. I suspect his johnson might just be too long and wide for that gig. Imagine a future press conference when the cameras keep pulling back for a glimpse of his tremendous appendage at our expense. See what I’m saying?

He’s more than a little reckless. Likely to beat up the softball coach or a visiting dignitary.

The Pantsuit is more than a little pell mell her ownself. Actually, she’s a whackjob too. She’s formidable, but unpredictable under pressure. She tends to turn into a snapping turtle. I used to adore the Clintons. I still like Chelsea. She’s kinda hot. I’d like to have a talk with her about her eye makeup though.

Whatever.

I’m chomping at the bit to get on with the slicing and dicing of Doubtfire. Such an easy target. Doddering. Not cognizant. Out of touch. Unaware there’s a difference between Shi’a and Sunni. Not aware of current US troop levels in Iraq. Not aware of the difference between Iraq and Iran. Unable to comb his own hair. The document dump on his health history for the last decade was something like twelve hundred pages.

His speech tonight was creepy. He’s begun to pimp the idea of change like he’s owned it all along. Please! Creepy. A relatively diminutive gathering when compared to the stadium full of fired up Obama supporters. His tag line was “That’s not change we can believe in.” and a sinister chuckle that made me think of a pedophile. Jeffrey Toobin from CNN, when answering an unrelated question, said it was the worst speech he’d ever seen. We likes us some Toobin.

Doubtfire possesses not a quarter of the charisma of our next President.

Think he wears those garter things that hold your socks up? I’ll take that bet.

Not to put too fine a point on it but, this guy has been dead wrong about everything for at least a decade and he’s a loser. No shit.

Perhaps he was once a maverick. I used to think so. Now I don’t care. What matters is now. As of now, he is misguided, misinformed, clumsy. Regardless of what he once was, he’s now shell of it. If disgruntled Hillary supporters are willing to stand behind this Republican manequin, I certainly won’t lament their noses despite their bleeding faces. They will be few and they will be stupid.

Fools.

America first began to throw herself away in ’63 when JFK was felled by a conspiracy, as opposed to a single man’s bullet. Any and all hope was shattered in ’68 when Bobby Kennedy and MLK collided with the bigotry and evil brought by the same despicable faces. The absurdity of Vietnam broke us further. America has stumbled, faltered and atrophied ever since.

Today I am proud. More proud than I’ve ever been in my forty three years. Michelle Obama was derided for a similiar sentiment. I feel ya sweety. You go. I understand. Completely. I am proud. I am goddamn beaming.

The cultural, sociological and political significance of this day is of an altitude Americans will ever be likely to witness. We have an African American running for leader of the free world. A black man will be President. The arc of his message is sincere, sane, righteous and just. We are fortunate. We are blessed.

He is, for once, the best of us.

What we have had the enormous fortune to witness over the last year and a half is beyond important. It is above monumental. It is hope like I have never seen.

We watched and participated in a man, an idea, that began as impossible. The idea and the man began to be possible. Before we knew it, the man and his ideas had become probable. As of today, I believe they are inevitable.

I will support this man Barack Hussein Obama. I will write about him. I will actively campaign for him. I will do everything I can to help realize the promise he makes. America is fortunate today. It is a very good day.

There is a chance. As of today. That America is coming of age.

From sea, to shining sea.

Drinks for my friends.

the wind blows from at least three corners.

Fates and votes of delegates in Michigan and Florida are to be decided day after tommorrow. Beyond that, perhaps the fate of the Democratic candidates and therefore the country. With any luck, by the end of next week we will have selected our warrior poet and he will commence to bludgeoning the pale man sucking on lozenges and reeking of ointments.

It just begs the question. What the hell went on here? This is easily the most important election, at least thus far, of my life. I can only hope that the future holds contests far less critical than this.

We’re talking the difference between World War Three and……….not.

The difference between the Gods being able to focus a giant magnifying glass through our atmospheric holes so that we all cook like ants, and……..not.

All this, dancing cheek to cheek with the fall of the biggest economic monolith the world has ever seen, or ……..not.

So just what the fuck is up with Michigan and Florida? Why did they defy the DNC et al to move their respective primaries?

Forgive me, I don’t hear anybody else asking this question. Why is that?

They were warned they would lose at least half their delegates. Deadlines expired. Additional petitions were granted. Those expired. Both states, apparently afforded multiple opportunities to color inside the lines. Was everyone responsible a retard with crayons?

Every modern national election holds a collective breath for results from Florida and Michigan.

Why then, swinging that much lumber, would they do this? It defies logic for anyone from the Democratic party to so overtly fuck with this process in an election so crucial.

Unless they meant to. The answer to a question is most often contained in that question.

It has to do with the speed and mass of that lumber. Somewhere, some entity sought to control that power.

I’ve got some thoughts on this but I have research to do. Talk to me. Seriously. You people read but you don’t talk to me. It’s time you did.

Drinks for my friends.

I knew this bomb of a tome set sail some time ago. If I knew, they knew. Trust me. McClellan telegraphed both the book and the tone thereof, months ago when he was quoted on Plamegate.

“The most powerful leader in the world had called upon me to speak on his behalf and help restore credibility he lost amid the failure to find weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. So I stood at the White house briefing room podium in front of the glare of the klieg lights for the better part of two weeks and publicly exonerated two of the senior-most aides in the White House: Karl Rove and Scooter Libby. There was one problem.
It was not true.
I had unknowingly passed along false information. And five of the highest ranking officials in the administration were involved in my doing so: Rove, Libby, the vice President, the President’s chief of staff, and the president himself.”

Again, I first read that months ago. I was a little excited. Excited like Easter morning. Excited about the egg hunt, the toys and the chocolate. In my family, it was Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Why are they all acting so suprised? This train has been belching steam for months.

Some senior campaign spokeshole for the Pantsuit named Kitty or something pined away for decency, insinuated Pasty McSquinty had somehow exhibited bad form. Whined that he had committed some political and ethical faux pas. He should have at least waited until the administration was allowed to escape. David Gergen piled on a little. He bristled at Anderson Cooper’s musing that they’re there to spin and obfuscate anyway.

Let me give you my take on it. Looks like Mr. Pasty McSquinty is my new mythical rabbit. Hoppin’ down the bunny trail. This is fascinating and glorious. I used to hate this bastard. This guy was infuckingside. They used him every day. Sent him out to be a pinata. I used to howl at him. It was comedy. They sent this poor fuck out in a straight jacket, day after day, with the words “sign language only” ringing in his ears.

I said back then it looked like the worst job in the world.

He went home and broke pencils for a while. Built birdhouses. Seethed. A quiet, but accomplished man who valued loyalty. He began to realize he was the cannon fodder they intended him to be. It was a severe blow to his heart and his ego.

Eventually, he felt liberated.

He found a passion for gardening. His flowerbeds were breathtaking.

He was able to masturbate in the shower again.

Then he wrote a book.

What he’s done is gone postal in an upper echelon Executive Branch kinda way. He’s effectively crapped down the neck of Dick-in-Bush.

On a related note, the guy who composed and performed the whistling theme song for Opie Cunningham and Andy Griffith died today.

Despite that last caveat, it’s a gorgeous set of circumstances. I thinkk the official release is Monday, the second of June. It will be Easter to me. I’ll buy the book, some candy and go to a diner for breakfast. I’ll be sure to order ham. I’ll get some some pre-packaged hardboiled eggs from the 7-11.

There may not be a thing in there I don’t already know but this is gonna be good stuff.

Drinks for my friends.