Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Cable is out. Chose not to pay the bill.

What people fail to understand is that Obama cannot afford to even address this issue of guns, to do so would ignite an already hot pile of insanity. These fucks, these crazy zealots, are lying in a puddle of their own excrement waiting for Obama to utter the words “gun control”. It will be an excuse for them to snap.

Patient but dumb.

Wouldn’t be prudent.

Most of you are just stupid enough to not understand how dangerous you are. It really bugs me.

Sorry boys and girls. The issue of guns will see no play this season. Understandably so methinks.

Unless assholes keep shooting shit up. Give it a rest already. I refuse to to fear this.

I got comic books on the brain. I bought a thousand bags & boards and five long boxes the other day. For the last three days I’ve bagged and boarded. Surreal. Amazing nostalgia. I adore comic book art. My collection is perfectly preserved. Exactly the way I left it. Beat up books are still beat up books, but pristine ones are still pristine.

Crazy. I touch each one as I place it on a board and manuever it into a bag and I remember reading them, almost everyone of them stirs something in my head and there’s over a thousand. Damn. They were gathered with care as well as abandon. As I rember them, I understand they have informed me as much as they are going to.

They are everywhere in my apartment now. Leaning or stacked, grouped by title. Huge swaths of Ironman, Spiderman, The X-Men, Daredevil, Avengers, Fantastic Four……The Flash, Superman, Batman, The Justice League……….Star Trek, Adam 12, Richey Rich, Zoro and Archie……Boris Karloff, Ripley’s……….Swamp Thing, an assload of MAD magazines, Heavy Metal, Conan and Epic.

An amazing historical capsule. Late sixties to early eighties. The breadth and diversity of my collection affords me permission to brag and be proud because I was a child when I assembled it.

My folks are heros for packing them, storing them and delivering them to me when I bought my first house.

The way they smell and the way they look and my absolute romance with them when I barely had opinion about anything. I began to obsess when I was twelve. I was twelve.

John Byrne, Jim Starlin, Chris Claremont, Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, Bernie Wrightson, Barry Windsor Smith, Frank Miller…… Jack Kirby

Life is so sticky I feel the need for a bath about every hour. Sign of the gypsy queen. As thick as an old Supertramp record.

Everything I ever did you could hear the fucking kick drum.

The kick drum is lichen on a boulder.

When I was a kid there was lichen on boulders.

Primus grooves way hard.

My sincere advice to you is to Sail the Seas of Cheese and clean your house.

A little Tommy The Cat will cure whatever ails ya. I’m also a spokesperson for Alka Seltzer and fragrant pinecones.

Anyway, today Michele “We’re Running Out Of Rich People In This Country” Bachman (R-MN), by far the biggest assclown in the US House of Represenatives, gracelessly attempted to infer that flu epidemics somehow only occur under Democratic administrations. See if you can follow her logic:

“I find it interesting that it was back in the 1970s that the swine flu broke out then under another Democrat president Jimmy Carter…….” -Huffington Post

The Human Shitsmear had this to say:
“[E]verywhere Obama is spreading Obamaism, there is a deadly disease taking place, either in the TARP community or in the newspaper business … Obama goes to Mexico — they have an earthquake. Obama goes to Mexico — get pig flu,” -wowwowwow.com

Awesome. Do the math. You’ve got an evil humanitarian and Nobel Peace Prize winning philanthropist, and our current President, a nefarious community organizer and two, count ’em two, outbreaks of flu related to pigs of all things. Oh, and, they’re both Democrats. I bet they used the same lab. It’s probably deep in the basement of some Red Cross shelter or maybe a Salvation Army thrift store.

Sheezus! That’s iron clad. A slam goddamn dunk! But wait. The original swine flu epidemic occured under Ford. I feel dizzy. I think I smell yellowcake uranium……my vision is clouded by pockmarks not unlike those littering the visage of George Tenet.

In late March 1976, President Gerald Ford emerged from a meeting with 27 health advisers with an ambitious request: “I am asking every man, woman and child in the country to get an inoculation this fall.” -dumpbachman.blogspot.com

It’s fair to say I love to loathe this woman. I adore her stupidity. I covet her retardation.

Why, just the other day she deigned to lecture Congress about Carbon Dioxide. She posited over and over that it’s a natural gas. She’s right about that but then so is the methane in my flatulence. What’s the point? She’s sure it can’t be bad for us because it’s from “nature”. She goes on to inform the esteemed deliberative body that there exists not a singly study proving this natural gas is harmful to humans. Five syllables Michele, asphyxiation.

She gives truth to the concept of failing upward:

In response to a question from host Chris Matthews, Bachmann said on the Oct. 17 show that she was “very concerned” that Obama “may have anti-American views” and that the news media should investigate the views of members of Congress. -Miami Herald

Hello McCarthy.

Then there’s Arlen Spector. Booya! I’ve always thought this guy to be inconsistent but obviously of his own mind. He confuses though not predictably. Maybe he actually has his own mind. Just can’t tell with these damn white collar tweekers.

Franken will get to sit and Spector makes sixty. A nice number. The Democrats, should they choose to act in concert, will have a majority immune to fillibuster. It’s something they rarely do regardless of whether they’re formidable or not. I’m not about a lockstep majority in the Senate but we need to be able to swing haymakers and roundhouses. Change won’t take unless we land some.

Homogeny is not a given among the jackasses.

Whatever. What these two stories point to is serious structural damage in the GOP. Take Mehgan McCain’s remarks:
“Karl Rove follows me on Twitter. That’s creepy, and ” Later, she wrote: “I can’t shake the fact that Karl Rove is following me-it can be creepy. So watch out.” and “Call it savvy marketing, but I find it disingenuous,” she said. “And it’s a bit weird to think his people-not even Rove himself-are following me.” -CNN

This thing will heat up. It will be a battle of the titans. Not so much between Democrats and Republicans but a contest between progressive and ignorant. Between smart and stupid if you will. Pro peace, pro choice, not fooled by creationism or abstinence, unafraid of gay people, tired of organized religion in our face rational humanists, versus desperately afraid war pigs that believe shit like Democrats are responsible for the fucking flu.

Guess who wins.

Drinks for my friends.

I have no problem with Miss California’s answer to the question put to her on same sex marriage. I disagree, but it was an honest answer. I don’t think she was particularly inarticulate; she was plain spoken and sincere. She did the best she could, I’m fine with it.

Having said that, I’ve long maintained that the legitimacy of same sex marriage fits succinctly and logically in the context of civil rights, obviously a much broader issue. I heard Dennis Prager say the other day that it can’t be a civil rights issue because there is no difference between a black man and a white man but there are profound differences between any man and any woman. It’s not an entirely weak point, he’s on the nose about substantial biological differences at least.

But that’s easy. And weak.

What a firebrand.

Maybe he wasn’t deliberatly being intellectually dishonest, but his argument is just that. I think it’s stupid. The most salient flaw being a presupposition that homosexuals choose to be homosexuals. I’m here to tell you that they do not. They will tell you the same. Individuals have no more control over who they are attracted in terms of gender, than they do over whether they end up with an innie or an outie.

Some of these things do go together.

I cannot wait for the day when science bears this out so people will shut the hell up about it or at least look ignorant.

I want to talk about the instructions posted at the trash chute.

I started to tear the laminated sheet from above the very well maintained, door to the trash chute. Right away I knew that was a mistake. I’m no longer twenty five years old. Stainless steel handle with a locking lever handy to your thumb.

If I ever get to design my own house, I’m going to include a dumbwaiter.

The Rules:

1) All trash bags must be placed inside the chute.

2) Do not leave trash bags on the floor.

3) Do not clog the chute. Use smaller bags.

4) Do not leave recycalable boxes or bags on the floor.

I have some observations I’d like to share. First, rule #2 is really just an extension of rule #1. What they are trying to tell me is to make sure I put my bags in the chute. In addition, they caution me that my bags are not welcome on the floor. In a sense, they posit that the only place for my bags, is the chute. Well, inside the chute.

I understand and agree with where they’re going with this. It’s the only place I really want to put my bags.

I’m a bit of a rebel but so far, there’s no conflict here.

I’m just a little troubled by how fucking stupid they must think I am or maybe how dumb the people around me are. It gives me pause.

I’m not looking to go in there swinging a Hefty sack full of holes, filled with yogurt, cat litter and rotting meat. Are they worried about that? I hope not. It’s this tiny little room just off the elevator.

I’m happy to follow the rules. They make sense.

Drinks for my friends.

Torture. I come by my views on this this subject rather easily. My positions are a slam dunk to predict. Torture is wrong. I see it as a black and white issue. No gray area. A walk in the park.

The fact that we treated our prisoners of war humanely until such time as they could be fairly judged for their crimes regardless of how heinous, has for centuries been a matter of justifiable pride and distinction for all of America’s people. George Washington insisted even.

It’s also, merely by example, saved untold numbers of our own troops from unimaginable abuse and suffering.

George W. Bush repeatedly utilized every venue including live television, to tell the American people and the citizens of the world that the United States, it’s military, it’s various agencies et al, do not torture. That is a purely distilled and unmitigated lie. He knew we were waterboarding and he knew, for example, that America had executed Japanese soldiers for the exact same practice.

This blog should end here. That’s really all anyone needs to know. We had long since defined torture, we acted directly counter to that very definition and then our highest elected official lied to us about it.

The damage done to our reputation in the world is incalculable. The fact that it wasn’t the first jumbo jet of a falsehood to be uttered to Americans and the world by Dumbya, his Vice President, subordinates etc. is all the more glaringly shameful. His assertion that Saddam had engaged in an effort to obtain yellowcake uranium from Niger in a State of the Union address was another Triple Whopper with extra cheese of a lie. George Tenet knew it and so did Colin Powell.

That very language had already been removed from a speech delivered by Dumbya just weeks earlier at the behest of the CIA and Tenet.

They fucking knew. All of them. And they lied and tortured and obfuscated anyway, to an end that would see hundreds of thousands of innocents dead and millions of lives affected in ways you and I cannot imagine. The dirtiest bunch of motherfuckers to ever hold power in this land.

Cheney himself whined ad nauseum to convince us that Iraq and Al Qaeda were mingling dicks.

“Sometimes heheh ya gotta CATAPULT THE PROPAGANDA heh hehe hhe heh heh”. “If this were a dictatorship, it’d be a heck of a lot easier, just so long as I’m the dictator.” “…when the final history is written on Iraq, it’ll look just like a comma…”

Just how wrong was Obama about some people clinging to their guns and religion? There’s a whole mess of you doing just that these days. Firearm and ammunition sales are through the goddamn roof. Threats on our President are far beyond any before him. The same ones so fond of posturing hypocrtically as outraged at the release of official government documents detailing snanctioned torture because it gives the enemy a heads up, despite a simultaneous declaration that we will no longer be engaging in such egregious acts. Moot point you fools.

Pawn to queen, bitch.

Here’s the biggest rub for the great unwashed. He’s right, he’s justified, he’s black and you are scared shitless. Meghan McCain says “Old School” Republicans Are “Scared Shitless”. I believe she also called Rove “creepy”.

Ignorant, stupid and afraid. The right wing has managed to convince you that your guns are at stake when there’s no evidence, not even a whiff of policy ideas even being floated to support that. Not because we don’t desperately need better gun control, but because Obama isn’t stupid. He realizes this concept is nothing short of a sacred talisman to stupid rednecks and the last thing he needs is for you to be any more pissed off or afraid.

It’s his third rail so everybody just chill.

All you assholes that “teabagged” on April 15th don’t understand that you’ll fare far better under Obama’s plan than any scenario the right wing ideologues have in store for you. Do you understand that the richest one percent in this country own fifty percent of the money and assets? That ratio by the way, exists in no other civilized nation on earth. We are as alone in that as we are in not having our basic medical needs taken care of by the taxes we pay.

Might be because we spend at least ten times more than our nearest competitor on weapons. Ten times. Almost forty percent of the entire world’s outlay.

He’s not doing this specifically for you. He’s doing it because he understands that no healthy Republic can exist and be competive without a robust and content middle class. He seeks to restore an infrastucture that rewards a hard day’s work with an honest days pay.

He’s looking to give you a shot at educating your children for a fair price as opposed to them be excluded from upward mobility despite individual scholarship and to prevent them from being disqualified for reasons sustained by an unfair healthcare system or family health tragedy. He wants this because he understands that America can only compete if our young are educated and healthy. As evidence, these very notions have been deliberately compromised over the last eight years and it follows that Americans are dumber and less healthy than ever. So now our economy is in the shitter and the world hates us.

Without these two very basic ideals, health and education, things that I believe are congruent with the inherent right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, America will slide into oblivion.

His goal is to re-level the playing field for all of you.

If that’s Socialism, if that’s some sort of nefarious redistribution of wealth, I’m all for it, because it was a facist plutocracy that got us here.

And it was you people, the great unwashed, that allowed it, that bought into it like a bunch of blind drunks at an ignorant festival. I don’t care about your God or your fear of Gay marriage or your communist/socialist boogeyman. I’m tired of listening to you about it because you don’t even know what you’re talking about. Most of you could no less define those terms than the government under which you now live, which is a plutocracy, that you seek to pummel into a theocracy. You don’t understand at all that your last andministration was the closest America has ever come to to a facist regime.

You don’t know because you’re too consumed by archaic notions like creationism and resurrection. These things are your own business and we don’t seek to impugn you or ridicule them until you push them on the rest of us. I don’t care, I’m agnostic.

If I were a gay mormon Republican I’d be furiously suicidal.

You don’t understand that they seek to distract you with these things so you don’t bother to get out a fucking dictionary and start looking this shit up.

Please people, yes, there are many trees in the forest, but their is a forest and you’re not seeing it. Your people got us here. Even now they sit on the sidelines lying to you about everything.

Here’s a perfect example. Fox News is in an absolute lather because Obama failed to drop Hugo Chavez with an uppercut both times they encountered each other. See, Venezuela produces a shitload of oil. That’s pretty cool. Know what else? His entire country runs on next to none. They don’t use gasoline. Wouldn’t you at least want to talk to this guy?

Drinks for my friends.

p.s. I’m just now watching The Daily Show. I swear.

I’ve heard a cornucopia of justifications. Reasons from ratiocination to mythical fables, about why today is THE day to celebrate pot day. Makes no difference to me. Marijuana never hurt anybody and hemp fiber and oil is the answer to more of our problems than you know.

I visited a dispensary in a past neighborhood today.

This place was barely two blocks from my old apartment. In Koretown. I got a glimpse inside my old window right before we pulled up in front of a bright green door with green balloons whipping in the hot breeze. I didn’t see much, it was fleeting, but the window was dirty and that gave me pause. It was at least a hundred fucking degrees today.

I was with this guy Fred, who is a friend of Evil Lars and works with the institution now. He’s like six four and handsome. We’re in his pick-up and he has an excellent air conditioner. It was a hundred goddamn degrees today. We’re here to replace a terminal that’s gone down. It’s April twentieth, they sell pot and their machine has shat itself.

I lived here during the riots. Two blocks off Vermont and Third. There was lots of shit on fire. Heavily armed personnel in black and the reek of destruction for months after. It freaked me out. I remember convenience stores and liquor stores looking like they puked into the parking lot after being looted. That smell of burnt. The sky was black west to east from Mulholland that day.

I fled to the valley.

I left in a hurry seventeen years ago.

It was cathartic to see it on a hot sunny day today. People on the sidewalks, fruit & vegetable corners. The only thing that’s changed seems to be that it’s healed. It’s bustling.

We walk up after being buzzed in and go up two flights of stairs. There’s a nice palm or fern every six steps or so on the right under the rail. I notice Fred has huge feet and he’s well dressed. His clothes are nice. I have no idea if he’s fashionable or not but he’s very well dressed. Me, I’m a sweaty pale primate.

We’re first greeted at the top of the stairs by a smaller black guy with neck tattoos and a gun. Hindsight tells me I was moving through this place way too fast. I was following Fred and neither of us seem to have a confidence problem. We arrived behind the counters and into the backrooms pretty fast.

Fred moves immediately to do the install and I start asking for Larry, that’s who Lars said to ask for. There are two empty eyed pitbulls that keep smelling my legs. Pale blue eyes that look scared more than anything else. A frightened animal is a dangerous one. I’m telling you this now and thinking I should have been more respectful.

I should have pet the dogs but everything was going well and I didn’t want to touch them.

Fucking hot up there. This place was crazy. Not my first dispensary, but easily the most ghetto. I liked it. I was comfortable there. There was an older woman walking around with a paper cup the size of a shot glass full of water. People buzzing in and out. A small grow operation in the back. A flat screen with at least six different angles of security. I stopped short of looking for myself on the monitor.

Utensils everywhere. I swear I saw a Crouch piece on the desk. Wham. I walked out with two fistfulls of the most aromatic herbinacionous addition to any entree you can picture. Fish, fowl, mammal or mollusk. A flower for any meal.

Ipso Facto, I’m back at my car with two pinecones of earthy. I drive home.

I have the back of Evil Lars.

Happy Holiday.

In other news, the truth is bubbling to the top about America’s role in torture. Regardless of your position, you were lied to on national television by your dipshit retarded President about it. America has tortured. And as The Daily Show so adroitly pointed out, all we can do is be outraged over the secret getting out.

Weak. Fuck me.

I can’t believe these retired, retarded fucking clowns on television trying to mitigate the fact that we torture. We prosecuted the Japanese for waterboarding. Were we more morally advanced back then?

Fuck me in the neck.

Drinks for my friends.

I felt compelled to share this. It really is remarkable.

Steve Schmidt, former campaign manager for John McCain while speaking to Log Cabin Republicans today, had this to say:

“There is a sound conservative argument to be made for same-sex marriage,” Schmidt, who was McCain’s campaign manager, told the group. “I believe conservatives, more than liberals, insist that rights come with responsibilities. No other exercise of one’s liberty comes with greater responsibilities than marriage. In a marriage, two people are completely responsible to and for each other.”

He added: “If you are not willing to accept and faithfully discharge those responsibilities, you shouldn’t enter the state of matrimony, and it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference if you’re straight or gay. It is a responsibility like no other, which can and should make marriage an association between two human beings more fulfilling than any other.” -CNN

Gorgeous. Eloquent, fluent and beautiful.

This kind of thinking and honesty is precisely what the Republican party owes America.

Yep, I said “owes”. Given the damage the Republicans have wrought the last three decades and particularly the last eight years, well, I feel they are beholdin’ to the rest of us.

Mr. Schmidt also had this to say:

“If you put public policy issues to a religious test, you risk becoming a religious party,” Schmidt declared. “And in a free country, a political party cannot be viable in the long term if it is seen as a sectarian party.” -Huffington Post

Hallelujah! Pun intended. Wow. This is one man who understands what the future of the GOP will look like if it has one. I am impressed. Social issues such as these, as opposed to those of policy, are our biggest divide. To table such concerns, might could be an envelope for allowing vibrant philosophical debate to once again rise to the watermark of legitimate. Without such violent and vigorous clouding and muddying of what is actually an important and vital set of issues, this country stands a real chance of moving forward and so then, does the rest of the planet.

America was never intended to be the world’s police anymore than it was to be the world’s moral arbiter. We’ve become mired and lost in that as a nation and have as consequence, lost our way on the world stage. It is exactly because of this that we are estimated by every other State to be anything from silly to hypocritical to lethally wreckless.

Guilty as charged. We are all of those things.

Far too long we’ve neglected tragedies that demand our attention and devoted it instead to situations that were barely our business. A lumbering giant, recklessly careening, who’s size and stature shrinks by the day.

A modicum of humility is therefore in order.

But wait, there’s more:

Hugo Chavez said to Obama today, “Eight years ago I greeted President Bush with this same hand. I’d like to be your friend.” -Fox News

Let the record show it was an interlocking opposable thumb shake. A ‘bro’ shake. I like this guy Chavez, he called Dumbya “The Devil”.

On Cuba, Obama said:

“decades of mistrust” must be overcome, but noted that he has already loosened restrictions that limited Americans from traveling to visit relatives in Cuba and from sending money to them.

Obama lifted all restrictions Monday on the ability of individuals to visit relatives in Cuba, as well as to send them remittances.

That may be just the beginning. “I am prepared to have my administration engage with the Cuban government on a wide range of issues — from human rights, free speech and democratic reform to drugs, migration and economic issues,” -CNN

This comes a day after Cuban President Raul Castro said he was prepared to discuss “everything, everything, everything” with the United States. -CNN

The neocons will no doubt bristle over this. I anticipate high comedy for my witness. Yet, this is the change we voted for. The one we Americans turned out in overwhelming numbers to endorse. We are beginning to understand that saber rattling is far from our only option. It’s stupid to assume that’s all we have to offer countries in our own hemisphere who pose no military threat to us whatsoever.

We could probably kick Venezuela’s and Cuba’s ass on any Thursday afternoon. That’s not the point.

The same way our opinions about our own citizens must change, so does our thinking about the rest of the world. Our bigotry and bias has led us to this precarious point in human history. America has within her reach, the potential to allow itself and the rest of humanity to progress beyond and above where we find ourselves now. If we can only learn to accept and tolerate a little more ourselves and then, the rest of the world.

See, I’m not here to endorse torture, terror, fascism, dictatorship or anything resembling. I’m trying to tell you that we’ve been going at this assbackwards. Archaic and absurd.

All good change comes from inside. We are all people, humans. We all bleed and suffer. It’s time to abandon the notion that to prevail, other humans must suffer and bleed.

Mr. Steve Schmidt has said and done a wonderful, cognizant thing.

Drinks for my friends.

Don’t get me started. Nevermind, I’ve begun. I commence.

I am in awe. Gun and ammunition sales are through the roof. Mass murders by paranoid, delusional, right wing nut cases are all over the news and what’s worse, the foment, nay, the naked encouragement, is supplied by mainstream media. Can you say Fox News? Reckless irresponsible pricks.

Just what the hell is going on here? These asshats are shouting slogans they would’ve accused the left of being treasonous for merely whispering. Secession and revolt. Socialist and facist. They don’t understand the difference between any of these words. Stupid enough not to realize these terms can be mutually exclusive. One of these things is not like the other, like on Sesame Street. A long history of Republican conservatives manipulating the great unwashed into acting counter to their personal interests is coming to a very frightening head.

Reckless irresponsible pricks.

Where do they get these people and how do they manage to fire them up so? Oh, and have they no shame?

It’s crazy and dangerous, here’s why. They are perfectly within their rights to protest and bellow spittle lubricated invective all they want. It’s a little unnerving because it makes no sense whatsoever, but oh well. It’s the absence of logic disturbs me.

I can’t shake the feeling that we are helpless in anticipation of the other shoe dropping like a Rhode Island sized chunk of arctic ice falling into the ocean and spawning a tsunami twenty stories high. Timothy McVeigh. Oklahoma City. We know there’s a bomb and we even know where it is, yet, we have to wait for the detonation before we can do anything. We wait for the crime. The inevitable violence. We know it’s coming. We know it will be bad.

This phenomena will be the goddamn Hindenburg. It’s not just the hydrogen, it’s the aluminium skin. A powder keg. A conflagration. Oh, the humanity.

Reckless irresponsible pricks.

By the way, allow me to let you in on a personal theory. Remember all that rhetoric about financial institutions et al being too big to fail? See if you can guess what America is now. It’s a zit. Get it? Actually, it’s a volcano. We owe too much for China or any other state holding our debt to call in the marker. We go down, they go down. The casino implodes. The entire world reels in despair and confusion.

How do you like me now?

Reckless irresponsible pricks.

Drinks for my friends.

A trifecta of issues have been chapping my ass of late.

ITEM ONE:

Is there a more appropriate term for the completely contrived “protest” by whackjob flat-earthers other than “teabagging”?

Methinks not.

“the insertion of one man’s sack into another person’s mouth. Used a practical joke or prank, when performed on someone who is asleep, or as a sexual act.” -UrbanDictionary.com

I love this shit.

In effect, they will protest the single largest tax cut on America’s middle class, working poor and impoverished in our history. They will actively lament an increased tax burden on America’s wealthiest five percent that still ends up being less than what their sacred small government charlatan Ronald Reagan imposed.

These people are idiots.

Not only does it pervert and vulgarize the original defiance by colonists who orchestrated and participated in The Boston Tea Party, it’s a knock kneed, anti-intellctual parody of genuine patriotism. I’m here to tell you these fuckers heads are as round as the average potato. Think pineal.

The lockstep conservatives have chosen the wrong week to quit sniffing glue. They are retarded and unable to wipe their own snot bubbling noses and drool weeping, recessed chins. Pathetic.

No one but Fox News seems to notice. Can you say ‘marginalized’?

ITEM TWO:

Looks like the GOP is resolute in blocking the release of actual legal opinions produced by the Bush administration’s OLC (Office of Legal Council), regarding torture. There are in fact three such memos issued by the OLC, one of the highest legal offices in the land, permitting and allowing for, under the auspices of American legal authority, the sadistic treatment and physical violence upon captured individuals in violation of Geneva Conventions as well as human decency and longstanding American ideals related to the treatment of prisoners of war.

Actual legal opinions proffered by the Bush administration that are apparently so profound and disgusting that Senate Republicans are willing to engage in blackmail to prevent their being released to media and the public.

“A reliable Justice Department source advises me that Senate Republicans are planning to “go nuclear” over the nominations of Dawn Johnsen as chief of the Office of Legal Counsel in the Department of Justice and Yale Law School Dean Harold Koh as State Department legal counsel if the torture documents are made public. The source says these threats are the principal reason for the Obama administration’s abrupt pullback last week from a commitment to release some of the documents. A Republican Senate source confirms the strategy. It now appears that Republicans are seeking an Obama commitment to safeguard the Bush administration’s darkest secrets in exchange for letting these nominations go forward…” -Scott Horton, The Daily Beast

Fuck me running.

They all stood right in front of us and swore up and down that America does not torture. That we don’t kidnap and “render” to countries that attach electrodes to the genitals or nearly drown “detainees”. That we don’t beat and humiliate or emasculate. They are fucking liars. And now, sitting members of the Senate, the world’s ‘greatest deliberative body’, openly engage in foul and despicable brinksmanship designed to keep the official sanctioning of that truth from our citizens.

Fuck you John Yoo. Fuck you Alberto Gonzales. Fuck you Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney. There is nothing and no things any of you could possibly do to right this wrong you all so willingly and zealously fomented and encouraged. The stain you leave will be visible for centuries and the damage you have wrought will be your legacy long after worms have consumed your rotting corpses and shat them into soil.

ITEM THREE:

Al Franken.

Hey Norm Coleman. Shut the fuck up and start looking for a job. Al Franken didn’t clean your clock but he won. Have some dignity or maybe some vanity. Sheezus. You lost. Everyone agrees. Have you no shame? A whip smart comedian bested you in a public contest. Ten out of ten dentists agree, time to look for a job. Maybe you could be Michele Bachmann’s pool boy.

This shit is ridiculous.

Drinks for my friends.

Bill Maher had Gore Vidal Friday night. I was punched in the mouth by the American treasure this man is.  Much like George Carlin, Kurt Vonnegut and Mark Twain. All men impervious to bullshit and fierce patrons of the truth.  Read them.  Every word they ever committed to a published tome.

Forgive me but Gore Vidal is the shit.

“Never pass up a chance to have sex or appear on television”.  -Gore Vidal

I read “Lincoln” not long after high school and it left a massive impression.

There was a conversation about homosexuality in the Roman era that was unbelievably fascinating.

When Maher asked Vidal what he thought about Sarah Palin, he said something like, “I don’t. And she doesn’t appear to think either”. Maher asked about the relative intelligence of contemporary conservatives and their apparent embrace of intellectual adversity.  Maher referenced the traditional conservatives like William F. Buckley and the contrast of Sarah Palin and how they used to be so much smarter and Vidal said “Well, everybody is”.  The anti intellectual trend that conservatives are so proud of.  What the fuck is that?

So I was reminded about how important American icons are.  Patriots.  Steadfast to the actual ideals on which America was founded.  Any one of the four aforementioned gentlemen could and would clean the clock of a Limbaugh or Hannity, yet would not countenance being shouted at or over.  I doubt any would deign to entertain even a polite conversation.

Yesterday I bought an overstreet guide for comic books.  The price guide for vintage comics.  It was my bible when I was thirteen.  I have a pretty extensive collection starting from the late fifties and ending in the early eighties.  I went to garage sales and flea markets buying everything I could find and afford.  I can be rather single minded and my adolescent obsession with comics was an early example.

I had them all stacked in the closet of my childhood home.  No light, artificial or otherwise.  Upon selling our house, my parents were careful to pack and store them as best they could until they delivered them to me when I bought my first house decades later.  Sealed in boxes for at least twenty five years until yesterday.

I was at best, an unusual child.  I would set up my pup tent in the backyard and take my comics out there with me.  I’d camp out.  After the sun went down, I’d bury some valuable possessions for no other reason than anticipating digging them up weeks or months later and rediscovering them all over again.

Yesterday my girlfriend and I began to open those boxes and that sensation of something old but new again blocked out the sun.  The comics themselves were pristine.  Exactly as I had left them some twenty five years earlier.  It turns out that many of them are worth mad cash.  The whole excitement of treasure hunting is brand new again.  It feels the same as it did back in the day.  Before I began to play the drums, entertain the notion of being a rockstar and eventually decide I would be a recording engineer/producer.

The contents of these boxes reminded me of the tremendous force of my dreams before I began to contemplate adulthood.  Magic.  Magical.

Things have changed.  I bought them then with the conviction that I would have them to read forever.  It is how I defined there worth back then.  The value of my treasure.  The cynicism of adulthood allows me to view them now as a way to pay the rent.  Things have changed.  Now I want for people to read me.  I made records.  I produced and engineered them but now I want all of you to listen to me because I have lots to say.

It goes without saying I’m confident my voice is important and you all should listen.  I’ve been around.  I’ve been there.  I’ve seen and done things most of you can’t imagine.  Trust me, I’m special.

Of the four men I talked about, all but one are dead.  I know many more.  Do yourself a favor.  Listen to Mr. Gore Vidal before he dies.  He has plenty to tell you that you may benefit from.  He is one of our last magicians.  My old friend Gary Myerberg reminded me that magic is only possible when magicians are in the building.  He can tell me this because we both witnessed the wizardry that can transpire under the right conditions.

Happy easter.

Drinks for my friends.

Obama bowed before the king of Saudi Arabia. Clearly, he was willing to pleasure him. Michelle Obama gave the Queen of England an erotic massage. Oh, the humanity.

Before that, Our Man admitted America’s arrogance to the French. Then he agreed to talk to Iran directly, *gasp*, about it’s nuclear energy program. Word has it it he indicated to Muslims that Jesus is just allright with him but Muslims ain’t heavy, they our brother.

How could the Obamas possibly be the children of our Christian American God? They’re negros you know.

What new devilry is this?

What it is, is after eight years of unilateral obstinance and yes, arrogance, it’s a modicum of humility. A signal that diplomacy is back on the menu. Shut the fuck up all you jingoistic loudmouths. All you ridiculous hardons that can’t explain your objections but can only scream and stomp.

Obama’s going to destroy America because he has no regard for the Constitution. Your calling card is the second amendment. You clown us with that while you ignore Dumbya’s assault on the very same document in every other way. The irony is that there is no agenda to mitigate your ability to own whatever weapon you want.

This saddens me because what we need to to do is keep the dangerous shit from the grasp and clamor of the retarded zealots without a cause.

No one cares. Build a fort or some kind of compound, then your government will show up with guns on…….

At the very same time, Habeas corpus and Posse Comitatus have been rendered silly. I would think these things would set fire to the panic buttons of the great unwashed. Really, why aren’t the idiot rednecks in a bloody lather over this shit?

It’s because they’re stupid and merely receiving instructions.

He went abroad and didn’t embarass us. He was welcomed. He talked to the people of the world the same way he talks to us. Like adults.

Yeah, I’m a little tired of America being Saudi Arabia’s bitch, the same way I’m tired of us being Israel’s bitch. Or England’s bitch for that matter. None of this is Mr. Obama’s doing. He’s just working with it.

I’ll tell you something, it’s true he went seeking help. Money for the financial crisis and military support in Afghanistan among other things. It’s true he was shut down. You know what? If him or someone like him had been running the show for the last four or eight years he would have gotten what he came for and this clusterfuck would not even be approaching the conflagration it is now.

You know what else? If he keeps this up, he’ll begin to get what he wants and what we, by that I mean the world, need.

By the way, this is all serves as further proof that organized religion is a mere example of humankind’s callowness and that spiritual belief of any kind has no place at all in the compassionate governance of the world’s citizenry.

hu.man.ist
1. A person having a strong interest in or concern for human welfare, values, and dignity. -dictionary.com

Kurt Vonnegut was a humanist. So am I. There is no reason anyone in the world shouldn’t be able to at least aspire to this ideal.

I think I’m done here.

Drinks for my friends.

We are not Gods. We are ants.

Every few seasons there occurs one of the most baffling and almost exclusively American phenomena. Some furious, disaffected asshole goes on a rampage with a gun(s) and kills a grip of unsuspecting and otherwise faultless saps for no reason other than a self perpetuating hate and a far too loose access to lethal weaponry.

The answer lies in preventing the asshole from acquiring firearms.

Invariably they are oppressed, fundamentalist, disenfranchised, extreme right wing idealogues that are sometimes racist, white supremacist or religious zealots. Heads up as to why the the problem is so uniquely American.

They come in clusters, these incidents of horror. Monkey see, monkey do. Whackjobs being more impressionable and susceptible and all that.

The answer lies in preventing assholes from acquiring firearms.

We are but spectacular fools. I tell you this because there’s an ethic that allows this sort of chaos and it’s the same one that the far right enjoys thoroughly as a catalyst for instilling fear and hate among the great unwashed.

Unbelievably stupid.

I’m a liberal for serious lack of a better definition. I don’t want to take your goddamn guns away and neither does Obama so shut the fuck up. The second amendment is just as solid and safe as it’s ever been. It’s only the brazen fomenting on the right that elevates it into an issue at all. It’s methodology 101 for whipping the ignorant into a “from my cold dead hands” frenzy.

It makes me sick.

A curriculum that includes a ‘pro life’ agenda, a God and country syllabus and a ridiculous culture of fear and loathing featuring communism, socialism, fags getting married and an inevitable social decay so profound that men and women will cease to marry or reproduce, thus bringing about America’s eventual surrender to all things evil like gooks and/or the French.

They encourage you to shoot people because you may soon no longer be able to.

It’s a distraction. How does it feel to have your strings pulled?

If you’re feeling that tug from the puppet master, you’re a dickhead.

The answer lies in keeping the human cartoons from getting their hands on AK47s.

There is however, an even dirtier bottom to this. Almost always it’s the social retard, the guy who keeps to himself. That guy that can’t seem to hang. He was quiet they say, or he kept to himself. When pressed they tell you he was a little odd. There’s a myriad of reasons these people exist in this unique American society.

Could it be be we are cruel, judgemental, superficial and far too materialistic? Racist, biased and unsympathetic? Rubbed raw but simultaneously lacking any capacity for compassion?

Could it be we just can’t stop being afraid? Could it be that there is nothing to fear but fear itself?

My fellow Americans, it is a distraction. Feel free to move about the room.

Thought I’d check in to see what condition our condition is in.

Drinks for my friends.

Did you catch Joe The Plumber on Realtime? I’m still in awe. For the sake of posterity at the very least, his name is not Joe and he’s not a plumber. Sam Wurzelbacher is a douchebag. He said things like it’s a “mute” point and Obama is a socialist. He then demonstrated that he, like all the rest of the great unwashed, don’t understand what socialism is. Morals and values he says.

Sheezus.

He’s a cartoon.

I don’t give a mad fuck what the pundits say, Obama acquitted himself with aplomb in Europe this last week and Michelle was the epitome of grace and class. As an American, I am grateful we are no longer suffering the palpable embarrassment of being represented by the Beverly Hillbillies.

Sam Donaldson declared nuclear power safe on Bill Maher tonight. This particular issue doesn’t take a rocket scientist to dissect. The process itself may very well be safe but until we figure out what to do with the goddamn waste, the entire idea is tragically flawed. It’s just that simple. We can’t just bury it in the desert. Fuck me, why doesn’t that come up?

I like the idea of my brain being inserted into a robot vessel until such time as an actual flesh and blood one comes along. I hope that someday soon, twisted but excellent brains like mine can be preserved for the benefit off all living creatures except certain kinds of bugs and religious zealots. I picture it like a VCR slot in the head of a robot. Just get somebody too slide your gooey brain through the little horizontal door……..

Celebrity apprentice update. Joan loses it and The Black Hat is is, um, fascinating. I’m not sure how smart he is but I suspect he’s in possession of some modicum of mental agility. It’s his composure that impresses me. I’m not sure how it happened but now he’s on the chicks team.

So yeah, the dudes ended up with the poker chick and Joan’s daughter. Something like that anyway. Oh wait. The teams are mixed now. The chopper guy is the only one here who’s conducted himself without shame so far. Football guy is less than articulate, naive, but maybe not stupid.

The drama kicks into high gear. Joan is pissed, and The Black Hat is a bit of a prick. Chopper guy and his team seem to be very happy with their effort. They show both projects and they both suck. But, wait. An inspired twist. Perez Hilton is consulted. Let’s watch!

This guy’s hair is ridiculous. His clothes are a nightmare. Some sort of powder blue jacket over a cobalt shirt and tie of the exact same color. And it’s a button down collar. Very high gayness.

I guess owe it to finish this.

Joan loathes Black Hat and so does her ridiculous daughter. They both lose because corporate hates both presentations. The Donald intructs Black Hat and Creep Melissa to bring two people each as he’s going to fire two. Let’s watch!

Trump blows it. What a tool. He fires the woman who volunteers to risk her head on the block for her team because she believes they have all kicked ass. You don’t fire that woman. You keep her. She’s all about team. He then fires another woman over some bullshit moral imperative that has zero to do with the premise of the show.

We’re done. I’ve been played. Cheated by the glass teat. Crap is crap and that was crap.

In other news, boys will be boys, we should all take stock and one man’s something is another man’s something or other.

Drinks for my friends.

So I’m sitting here today in my monkey suit, getting ready to go to the bank to bang out a proposal with the Evil Lance. I’ve been chasing this merchant for months. It’s a comic book shop. His name is Cat.

I was in the middle of reading truthout.org and and the place went quiet. Everything blinked off. The bastards at DWP had cut off my power.

My girlfriend walks out of the bathroom to say “You paid the power bill?”

I break a sweat. This has never happened before.

It’s really ok. I have the money. I was just being stupid frugal and retarded reluctant to pay a bill. Being poor makes you brave. Still, it’s more than a little discomfitting. My first thought is about what a dick I am because I made mad cash this month.

I go to the bank and make a big deposit. Call up DWP and pay the bastards. Call the other department of DWP and give them the confirmation number and they say by five p.m., power restored.

Get me a a couple chili cheese dogs with mayonnaise, mustard and onions. This is why poor folks are fat. I blame society. I cut a check for my rent and drop it off. The manager is this cool guy named Antonio. He smiles and shakes my hand. First time I’ve paid rent on time in months.

I go to my bank, the Evil Lance and his wife, mother in law and daughter are there, along with my significant other, the new guy we will refer to as GQ Todd, the Lovely Linda and the hot new receptionist. Ken, the head fromage is nowhere. The Evil Lance has done my homework for me. I get a folder with the proposal, the original statement and a printout of the ACH statement for money I’m being paid on a previous deal that will hit my account on Monday.

It’s a sweet chunk of change.

I threaten the daughter of the Evil Lance with cannibalism. I tell her to bring me butter and pepper. I demand a giant fork and tell her that her ankles will be chewey. She is gorgeous and I am charmed.

I come home and there’s an ominous yellow notice on the door. Mine heart doth sink. I’ve just figured out how to buy enough gin for the weekend and I felt like I may have fooled the world once again.

I walk into a dark silent apartment. I go on the balcony for a smoke and to read the ominous yellow tag. Turns out I just need to go get my security gaurd buddy to open up the meter room so we can flip the switch. After all, I’m paid up. I, we, do that. He’s the same guy who gives me the stink eye through the peephole when my shit is way too loud.

So yeah, today worked out well.

Then the news from the State Supreme Court of Iowa.

What a swell little gem. In Iowa of all places, we get a State Supreme Court stocked with Republicans to pretty much vociferously defend marriage between anybody who really wants to. The decision respected and actually honored the the concept and spirit of civil rights.

Watershed.

Iowa. The one state in the union where you dare not sell a bong. Wow.

We are changing.

Just look at the world stage today. Barack Hussein Obama and First Lady Michelle. Europe sees Jackie and Jack. They are abroad doing the absolute best they can to represent the rest of us. They are proud because we are or should be. They are humble because Americans have walked face first into humility.

Although I worry, I’m sure the ratio of smart Americans vs. stupid is in our favor. If you had to repeat that sentence to yourself, you’re not one of us.

They begin to repair the damage. The Obama’s show up in front of the people who need and want to see them. They show up at every chance they are afforded to distill themselves and what America is instead of what Europe has seen for the last eight years. Our knuckles don’t drag.

Bill Maher scores an interview with Joe The Plumber. Oh me oh my. See what I’m saying?

Drinks for my friends.

My name is Felix. I clean up.

I’m here all week. I live here. These boys are messy. I sweep, mop and vacuum. I’m here to do what needs to be done. If the windows need attention, I do the windows.

These two, Myrus and Paul, challenge me. I observe and respect the confidentiality of housekeeper and client. They do give me pause, they provide unique situations.

My teeth will grow back. Myrus says just like hair and nails.

I’m not sure I believe him but there’s work to do. Paul just stares at me sad.

These two are a handful. No one would believe what I have to deal with.

That’s why I’m here. I bat cleanup. I’m the fixer.

I keep a whole grip of supplies under the bathroom sink. I store the the bleach in the garage next to the washer and dryer. I keep a backstock of gloves, sponges, paper towels and trash bags in various places around the house.

My man Myrus shows up last night. Before I even get started he washes up thoroughly. A shower and bloody clothes in the bathroom trash with a plastic liner already in place. He’s pretty smooth. He works with me. There’s a gore and brain festooned tire iron in the trunk. I take care to deal with these items methodically and deliberately. The trunk of the car gets an exhaustive cleansing and a twiceover.

I got a burn barrel out back. I toss full cans of hairspray in whenever I find them. They sound like a shotgun blast. Of course the clothes, but then the iron after I’ve cleaned it. I pull it out the next morning before the sun and after it’s cooled. I toss it back in a clean trunk. There is no cleanse like fire.

Then I do a little shopping. Beer, whiskey, gin, tuna, good bread, tomatos and avacados. Total cereal with raisins and two percent milk.

No cat food this week. Sad. I really liked the little fucker but I’m not about to get in the middle.

Both my roomates are fucking crazy. One think’s he hears shit all the time and the other is unpredictably violent. We all like the same food though. Ballpark smoked white meat turkey franks and bowtie pasta. Classico sauce, onions, butter, pinenuts, applesauce, peanut butter, hummus, various cheeses including sharp cheddar, Ding Dongs capers and grapefruit soda.

Al these items work pretty well for me despite my not having a tooth in my head. I like shopping but everyone in town looks at me weird. I imagine it’s because my lips are folded funny on account I have no teeth.

We all like salad but it makes each of us shit like a goose.

What I do is hold up my end. I pay bills, answer any correspondence, scoop the catbox when Paul gets a new cat and stay way out of the way. Paul’s been freaking out in the garage lately and Myrus has been killing everything he sees.

You can only see one other house from the kitchen window. It’s but a shack about a quarter mile down the road. I don’t think I’ve ever seen who lives there. The wind gets to blowing and you can’t see any evidence of civilization at all. Cars still rock down the two lane blacktop doing eighty plus.

Sometimes the wind inhales and whatever goes by shakes the house.

The telephone poles sway like loose teeth in an infected socket. I can feel the poles rocking back and forth in my gums.

It rained last night enough to muddy the windows.

I’ll be busy all day.

Welcome to the show.

He’s got huge arms that look like hams. Tattoos. Piercings and a long ZZ TOP beard. He’s loud and full of himself. A braggart. I loathe him immediately. Whiskey after whiskey, man this guy can drink. He’s a big boy. Ronald Reagan was our best President ever. I get him to despise chick drinks with me. We start ordering them. Sex On The Beach. Scorpions, Stingers and Grasshoppers. Creme de menthe, Goldschlagger and Jägermeister. I drop a couple percosets into the big bastard’s snakebite.

He’s stumbling and slurring as he tells me he’s gotta piss. I steer him away from the men’s and towards the back door. I hid the tire iron so no one would steal it. I look at him and tell him he’s hammered. I tell him he needs a bump. He looks at me like yeah he knows.

I give him my bullet and he hits it. He hands it back to me and his eyes begin to cross. I see his ankles twist and I swing up on his way down. I hear meat. I feel meat. I tell myself mine is a star studded existence. I just broke this prick wide open. I hammer at the base of his neck. I kick his fucking torso and walk the few blocks to my car.

I feel better. I am festooned with gore. I’m still sad about that cat, but it will never happen again. I feel better.

I am Myrus.

There will be blood.

I promise.

People need to understand there are consequences. For their actions I mean. You can’t just walk around doing and saying what you want.

I like myself. I’m secure.

I hate faggots or people who act like them. It’s not natural for a man to covet the the ass of another man. I’m not on board with that shit. I don’t trust niggers. They hate us as much as we hate them. We gotta spook for President. What does that tell you?

I’m a good guy. People should like me more. When was the last time you had butterscotch pudding?

I think his name is Paul. He leaves bowls and forks in my sink. He brought a cat home the other day. Black with a white face. It was friendly in a disgusting way. Always licking itself and cowering.

Small and helpless. It smelled like broccoli or maybe cauliflower.

It didn’t like me. It could see me. At first it looked at me and then it looked through me.

It licked my fingers and toes. I held it’s head in the toilet until it stopped squirming. Amazing how strong such a tiny critter can be. I kept my fingers around it’s neck and my thumbs on it’s head. He’s not about to bring home another senseless animal. I felt him screaming inside while I did it. He’s pissed.

He’s entirely welcome to go fuck himself.

I can tell you about other things I’ve done. I hate animals because they’re stupid and helpless.

I like bugs. I like to catch them and have them crawl on me. They are so stupid. I can trap them on my belly and chest for hours. I hate bugs with wings. I kill them right away. Some beetles have wings like an afterthought. Like evolution or some crap gave them the ability to fly fifty years ago. I hate them the most. They fly around bouncing off everything, you can knock them out of the air. Like airborne crunchy turds. They smack on the floor, hobbling on weak legs until I pop them underfoot. My naked big toe. They squeek more than pop.

They are shiny, I think about eating them.

I fucking hate them. Greasy. Shiny. Crunchy. Like a glistening peanut.

Found some pretty good tuna salad in the fridge. Don’t remember making it but I can make good food. I’m having this sandwich on a french roll with a grape soda and I think of that cat. It never did a thing to me. Why did I do that? I can’t believe I did that. Fuck. Who am I? What have I done? My head burns and my brain itches. I would kill another human for the same thing.

Fuck.

I understand I did it to make myself feel something. Like I’m in a cloud unless something big happens. Sometimes I have to do something large.

This time. What I did sucks and it makes me awful.

I will find people to kill until one kills me.

I hate my fellow human.

It felt good and I was powerful. Now I can’t stand myself. I see what I’ve done over and over and it’s ugly. Who am I? I’m panicking. I feel it coming.

I’m dizzy and in despair so sharp I can’t breathe. I think about whiskey and head to the kitchen. I’m on my knees and vomiting with a bottle of Maker’s Mark between my thighs.

The first sips go down painful because of the acid still in my throat. Burns all the way down. Puke and whiskey. The humanity.

I’m sure I should quit this earth. I have Tums.

I have done a very bad thing. I can’t fix it. No one will ever know and it doesn’t matter. I know. I remember.

The only way to repair it is to take down something bigger and more deserving. Something thinking and guilty. Anyone who’s done something bad. Easy. They’re everywhere.

They see me, I’m like five foot eight, one sixty five soaking wet. But I’m mean and strong. I will hit you first and hard. If there’s a bottle handy I will cave the middle of your face in. I will run you over. I will kick your head until it’s a broken ugly shell spilling blood and brains.

I hate you because you’re human.

I can’t stand what I’ve done so I’ll fix it. I’ll take one down. A Mouth breather. I’ll find some big stupid shithead at a truckstop. I’ll get his trust and he won’t be threatened because I’m so small. I’ll tell him I have blow and we should go take a piss. I carry a ball peen hammer in my back pocket.

It will be easy.

My name is Myrus.

Bill O’Reilly, who’s likeness appears along side the definitions of both ‘hypocrite’ and ‘blowhard’ in the most reputable dictionaries, said in an interview today that he boycotts any film in which Sean Penn appears because of his political views. In the words of Snoop Dogg, “Fuck Bill O’Reilly”. And, “He’s a motherfuckin’ prick”. And, “Suck my dick”. And, “so I can kick his motherfuckin ass when the show is over with”.

I don’t really have anything to add here.

In other news, I thought it was pretty cool to hear that the CEO of GM, Rick Wagoner, was walking away at the behest of the Obama administration. That is, until I read the greedy bastard could tip the fuck out the door with as much as $20 million. Excuse me, there seems to be some sort of canker on my penis. Does this look infected to you? It’s like deja vu all over again.

Also, thirty thousand pythons as long as twenty feet are threatening to go forth, multiply and overrun Florida and there’s a million pounds of pistachios out there that will kill you in your bed.

The world is an increasingly perilous place and I’m almost out of pot again. It’s legal here in California as long as one suffers from a serious and/or chronic malaise like ingrown toenail, sebaceous cysts on one’s genitalia or say, brewer’s droop from drinking beer.

A prescription costs between a hundred and a hundred fifty bucks. My fridge is broke.

I watched a comic tonight on Comedy Central. Josh Blue. Self deprecating, brave, honest and very funny. He suffers from cerebral palsy. Walk a mile in another man’s shoes but never forget about the man with no feet.

I’m an agnostic. My position has more to do with the abject silliness of just about every organized religion on the planet, as opposed to some sort of soaring epiphany. Honestly, I owe my stake more to the vacuum of logic that exists in every dogma fomented by people of faith on up to, but not exclusively, the goddamn Pope.

For example:
YAOUNDE, Cameroon (March 17) – Pope Benedict XVI said condoms are not the answer to the AIDS epidemic in Africa and can make the problem worse, setting off criticism Tuesday as he began a weeklong trip to the continent where some 22 million people are living with HIV. -AOL news

Don’t lose sight of the fact they boink all the little boys and girls they want.

Good luck with that crap you pointy hatted pontiff. I’m not sorry to tell you that Catholicism just may be the most egregious and archaic “faith” practiced in America certainly, and under the world’s proscenium without a doubt. I will be as blunt as possible here. Catholicism encourages me to root for Satan. Catholics are fools. So are Baptists, Mormons, Anglicans, Protestants, Muslims and especially Evangelicals and Born Agains.

They are all petty children in the eyes of the universe.

My sincerest apologies if I left any one out.

Buddhism occurs to me to be the only discipline that bothers to address the existential nature and uniqueness of the human condition. I just can’t help but appreciate a fat guy with a shit eating grin in the context of all the other tragic and sometimes stigmatically bleeding religious icons.

Most of it is about guilt and non intellectually curious blind shithouse faith. What I mean to say is it’s spectacularly dumb.

You gonna eat that?

Drinks for my friends.

I sold my microphones today. I’m more than a little delighted to look these young engineers in the eye. The enthusiasm and excitement is infectious and more than a little nostalgic. Palpable. I remember buying each one of these items and how excited I was. Each chosen with care and for a precise need we encountered when working in different studios around the city and across the country.

I always bought the best gear I could possibly afford.

This guy’s name was Dudley. He brought his own mic pre, his own cans and an XLR cable to test my wares. He was English. I did my level best to describe what they were best for and how best to use them. I made a lot of records with these mics. I told him how to point one on acoustic guitar and that he should be mindful that the AKGs should be equidistant from the floor when used as overheads on a drumkit. It’s a phase issue. I also sold him an ATM25. An excellent kick mic as it takes tons of signal but still has a nice cardioid proximity bump in the low end.

I’ve got the next few months of rent covered and the new gig is starting to really pay.

I may finally be making lemonade.

I’ve been reading Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid’s book. Far more fascinating than I imagined. By the way, my copy is autographed and inscribed. My mother is an old friend. A reputation for being somewhat recalcitrant, he is is still soft spoken and almost taciturn at times. He talks about people I know or at least know of and so it is all the more compelling for me.

Michael O’Callahan, the Governor of Nevada when I was a kid. He had a wooden leg and he’d kick your ass if you asked for it. He did that, he beat the shit out of people.

It was my first time on the front page of the Nevada Appeal, a picture with the infamous Michael O’Callahan.

Harry himself growing up in a boomtown gone bust at the southern tip of Nevada in a house with no plumbing and parents without teeth. Searchlight Nevada. This guy didn’t come from nowhere, he came from hell. Morals and ethics were gotten from the town pimp, or “whoremonger” as Harry writes. He never saw a bible until he was a Sophmore in Henderson. O’Callahan was one of his highschool teachers.

He grew up in a town damn near ghost, in one of the most inhospitable climates in North America. His nickname was ‘Pinky’.

You can’t write this shit. I can’t help but hold up where this man is and point to where he came from.

In other news, I watched Celebrity Apprentice again. I really can’t help it. Rodman is the worst kind of trainwreck. I know that guy. I mean, I know the very same guy. At the end of the day, what would you do with him? More importantly, what should I do with him? That’s how he behaves, that’s the kind of shit my friend says.

He is an unhappy man and I’m the best friend he’s ever had. I should add for context, that I’ve had it with his shit. He owes me money, it’s not a lot but I’m not swinging from the trees these days. He’s a notorious drunk. For years I’ve been escaping before he slides into the dark. I learned to do that only after getting vortexed way too many times.

For years I struggled with my loyalty to this man while he waltzed through my intestines.

We’ve literally been at war the last few months, exchanging blistering, often cruel and always searingly awful e-mails. I’ve come to loathe him. I despise big chunks of time I spent with him. Very smart women including my significant other are saying walk away. Leave it alone. They begin to understand I’m only doing it to light him up, to get him to dance furious.

Guilty. I heard that. Makes me chuckle because I’m so good at it.

Then he calls me shitfaced the other night. Tells me he’s sorry. Tells me he’ll pay me. When I ask him why he did all this he asks me if it wasn’t kinda fun. I tell him yes and tell him to call me when he’s sober.

Drinks for my friends.

I’m fourty four years old. Sometimes I think about that and it impresses me. I’ve seen a lot. I’ve done a lot.

I’ve seen a kid on a bike launched by a car doing sixty. I’ve seen people splattered and dying face down on warm asphalt. I’ve been rushed to the hospital bleeding in an ambulance. I’ve met governors and senators. I’ve seen comets and eclipses. Managed a Der Wienerschnitzel. I’ve rolled end over end off the side of mountain in a Subaru. I had a knife pulled on me. Been to a whorehouse and ridden miles above in a giant balloon. Lost my mind on hallucinogenic drugs. Got booked on a felony and made the front page of my hometown paper.

All by the time I was twenty one or twenty two.

I always wonder how many other people flirt with insanity as much as I do. I don’t think I’m going crazy or anything but I wonder about everyone else. Imagine working in a hospital. People with there shit hanging out or infected with insidious diseases. There are so many professions I’m automatically excluded from because of my prejudice for gore and human or animal excretions be they voluntary or not.

I am grateful to be an American. Despite her flaws, copious and profound, I’m happy I was born here and not anywhere else. They call India ‘the worlds largest democracy’, yet the caste system in India allows for a man’s only employment prospect to be diving in the crude sewage system to clear obstructions. These poor fucks have little beyond facemasks, gloves and snorkels. They climb out of manholes covered in shit.

Fuck me.

Welcome to Planet Earth.

“So, let us not be blind to our differences – but let us also direct attention to our common interests……For, in the final analysis, our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this small planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s future. And we are all mortal.” -JFK

He said that nearly a half century ago. How far have we come? We’ve elected our first bi-racial or racially mixed President. A very high watermark. To my dismay we are still coated in fear, willfull ignorance and graceless stupidity. Still so disasterously handicapped by institutions and insipid indoctrination. People actually lament the end of Dumbya’s dynasty. Millions still believe reproductive rights to be a priority beyond any other issue. Millions still have mullets and poor dental hygiene. They all listen to Rush Limbaugh.

We can’t ignore these bastards. They used to just be stupid. Now they’re mad. Not a welcome development. Seems like the only thing to do is marginalize them. Zeitgeist appears to endorse that notion. The pendulum is in motion and it’s arc seems to favor sensibility. I don’t trust these zealous fuckers, they may be mad now but they’ve always been insane, that’s how it all happened in the first place. It’s been welcome to the monkeyhouse for eight goddamn years.

“…..in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity….”

I just have to say this. As fucked as we are, these dipshits want to stand at every hole we attempt to fill stomping and screaming about how we shovel or what we use to fill the hole. The Republicans, after all this time pissing and moaning about the budget, finally produce a document we’ll have to call an alternative. We can’t call it a budget because there are no goddamn numbers in it. I haven’t read the whole and I refuse to. I have neither the time, the patience or the humor. It’s a joke.

And another thing, most of the people who manage to get a degree in this country end up owing an assload of money. In their early twenties they are desensitized to the idea of humongous debt. So, duh. No wonder so many are so confused. They were working and now they’re not. They had savings and now they don’t. They were living check to check and now they live hand to mouth. They lived in their cars and now they live on a sidewalk.

Another indicator of just how bad the shit is hitting the fan is conflagrations on our southern border. Juárez is occupied by the Mexican military. Thousands dying every year. Far more than our wars across the globe. It is blowing up. This shit is fucked up and it’s because of our senseless, pointless, compassionless and thoroughly ineffective ‘War On Drugs’.

Evil, draconian policy arriving home to roost. Hillary showed up, I don’t know what she did. People who buy pot, smoke pot or even sell pot should not be behind bars anymore than people who buy booze, drink booze or sell booze. It’s that simple. It’s that regoddamndiculous.

My cat Beddy likes to sit on my back while I take a dump. She let’s me know with her eyes and one of at least ten variations on the sound of a pigeon. She’s petite but I still need to lean forward a bit. She turns every direction of the compass. Otherwise she doesn’t approach me in the bathroom much. She’s transfixed by the water closet however. I call it that because of her. It’s a story for another day.

It’s just that we are still so plumbing the depths.

I no longer buy bottled water.

This is the strangest place I’ve ever been.

Drinks for my friends.

They are sprinting. The entire executive branch are running like there’s only a few hundred yards in front of them. They tackle or block almost everything in the way. The pace is impressive. It won’t, it can’t last forever.

Our Man will see some time on the bench. I will worry, along with Paul Begala, if they’re still running this hard in six or nine months. For now, they are impressive.

Don’t talk to me about minutiae. What they’ve done here is hit the ground running. What they’ve done in sixty plus days is impressive even if only for the sheer volume of work spent and tasks accomplished. If you disagree with every single policy issue, you still must admit that these folks have been burning it hot at both ends.

They are on this economy like sauce on wings. As far as I can tell it’s bold. Code for risky.

So many second guess. They example past economic scenarios that I can’t help but wonder might be obsolete. This is serious business. So many of them are full of shit.

It’s not like the Republicans have even floated a turd. I half believe they actually served us the turd, smoked and on a gilded platter. Cocktail forks and horseradish. Champagne they’d pissed in.

They just might have Huck Finned us into this Presidency. If that’s the case, I wonder how long they knew they had a turd on their hands. Gingrich knows. So does Frist and Santorum. Pricks.

On the other hand, I very much like what Obama has to say. Long term thinking our leadership has been bereft of for eight years. Education, energy and health care must be part of any plan for long term, not necessarily prosperity, but lack of abject poverty and widespread toothlessness.

You know what? This guy is talking to us. He’s taking questions. You know what else? He’s fucking smart. This guy has a command of facts and information that is dazzling. He talks to us and tells what he knows and he knows a lot. He does questions in a way that give you more than just an answer, but some background as well. Reminds me of Clinton, a President who was nearly impossible to stump unless you asked him where his dick had been.

Man, I’m so grateful to have a President who can answer questions without dodging and then go on to actually illuminate the average American. He is sharp and he is good. Masterful.

Dumbya could not have handled a tenth of this.

He took all comers, from Ebony and Politico, to ABC Radio, Washington Times, Agence France-Press, Univision, Stars & Stripes as well as CNN. A tour de force in terms of Presidential press conferences. Lungs full of fresh air and intelligence. Awesome.

Goddamn this guy works hard. He is so smart and I am so proud.

If they don’t applaud his acumen in the reviews tomorrow, we will learn something about the measure of our post election contemporary press.

I understand this guy is hanging his ass in the wind. He’s riding the lightning but he’s not kidding. Barack Hussein Obama is not here to fuck around.

Drinks for my friends.

I blink and there are stars overhead.

Only when I close my eyes. But then it’s like the inside of a giant blue black nightime balloon. The fire of galaxies, stars and supernova. I feel a little crazy. I’m weak.

I understand something is about to happen. I’m excited.

I close the door behind me and sit down in the tiniest of rooms.

There’s a change of pressure, like an airlock and the room groans like a wooden ship.

The most intricate and elaborate shelving you can imagine. Right angles and curves, sloping and graduated, square and circular slots. A porthole of a window at the top of the wall on my right. Desk, chair and architecture of an order that speaks to my sensibilities as fast as my eyes can move.

The leather is creaky. Like it’s old or maybe really new. Like I’m being whispered to. Rolled parchment, tied with ribbon. Red wax seals. Small jars. delicate corks. Coins and watches. Maps on the wall. Globes high up in the corners. Protractors and compasses. They turn when I’m not looking. I hear them squeak and scratch. Beakers and scales. The wind blows outside. I smell cinnamon and cedar.

Rows of drawers, like a library card file. Grids like a post office. Boxes and cartons. Thick green glass in stainless steel. A perch for birds bearing messages and all sorts of chutes and tubes. Chaos on a scale for the singular brain.

Pedals at my feet, switches at my fingers and overhead screens coming into view. Keyboards. Headgear with elaborate receptacles. Things I don’t recognize. Shapes that touch me back. Holographs trying to tell me something.

When I start to hear the room it shocks me. A giant lump of fear settles in my pelvis, in my intestines. It’s starts with old recordings, radio addresses and big band music. In no time it’s black and loud and panicked. Then old video game sounds and music, music, music. Fax and modem bleeps and even more music and speeches and noise. It changes channels back and forth all the while getting louder.

It shakes me, my fucking bones rattle and vibrate. I’m sweating. It screams so loud my head feels like an egg shell cracking.

It stops.

I linger for a minute but I’m so confused. It’s like I can’t focus my eyes.

Leather and oil on wood opulence. Polished metal. Brass and copper. It smells just like that.

I need to step out. I feel overwhelming deja vu. I reach for the slim door and end up on the floor of my garage. It’s night. The door barely clicks behind me. My car doesn’t tick but it’s huge and sleek. Outside the wind is giant inhales and exhales. I hear whales. I feel drugged.

Inside, the microwave clock tells me 3:15. I have to think about what I’ve seen.

I’m panicky. I need a drink.

I like to imagine department stores when I’m confused. There’s an order that comforts me. A certain retail gust that makes me feel safe. The idea of old grocery stores comforts me immensly. The scents of produce, bread, solvents and cleansers under white fluorescents with the chill of a Fall Sunday morning.

See it. Smell it.

I can go to a public place, the scent of textiles or a mall, popcorn and the click of heels, lose my shit and they will get me to my parents. Break down in public and you will get all the help you need. I’m thinking about the Bay Area or Seattle.

I don’t care what day tomorrow is.

A girl named Julie told me once that if I didn’t watch a particular network medical drama, I couldn’t possibly understand medicine. I thought about how a television show could possibly help me to understand medicine.

I’m telling you this because I have to.

I’m Paul.

It’s me Paul.

I made the best tuna salad today. I diced red onions and Vlasic dill pickles. Lotsa garlic, lotsa mustard, lots of mayonnaise. Celery. Maybe some mild green peppers, maybe some paprika or cayenne. There’s other things I can’t tell you, like when to squeeze the lemon or maybe you should consider lime and mint with a sweet relish and a whiskey mustard. Cilantro? Capers baby. Barbecue rub? Tuna is the ultimate white meat. Any and all greens must be crunchy fresh. Either way, use chewey bread. The high fiber kind or rye. It’s about the texture. Ground pepper.

Toast it fer fuck’s sake.

Cheese, yep. Swiss if it’s decent. Otherwise, it’s a quality of life issue. Bring on the Velveeta.

I had a couple cold tall boy Cheladas. They went down smooth.

Mom called, I told her of my recent successes. We talked about the Democrats and how Dad is doing.

I don’t have a fence but I know where my property ends. There are markers. Sticks with faded ribbons. My backyard is the desert and I like that. I wake up at three a.m. and put on my slippers. Next thing I’m eating a Ding Dong a couple hundred yards from my back door. The wind helps me to imagine rain.

It never comes.

The moon lights the desert like it’s a sister.

The county tries to make me put up a fence that will blow down. They ask me if I don’t want to be protected and I tell them fences don’t stop bugs or snakes and fences blow down.

Other than that, it’s not so bad.

I’m in what you would call a modest house. Living and dining area with an open kitchen. Seperate living room with a gas fireplace. One and a half baths. One bedroom. I got some sort of wood laminate on the floor in the kitchen and a nice dark tile in the entry and around the dining area. A nice cream colored carpet that hides the dirt pretty well everywhere else but the bathrooms.

I like to vacuum.

Behind the water heater in the garage. There’s a door but it’s very narrow. When I first noticed it my mind pictured the word ‘slim’.

I like to sweep. I like gathering the soil into the pan. I like looking at what I’ve collected. I found some sort of shrimp once. Must have come from a Cup O’ Noodles. It’s the only possible explanation.

That’s what it was, a skinny door. Took me three or four months to realize it was even there. Even after I first clocked it, weeks went by.
I thought about it quite a lot. I dreamt of it. Then I forgot about it.

It came back around. This last Saturday afternoon I turned the knob.

My name is Paul.

I was in a Popeyes Chicken the other day and there was a was paraplegic parked in front of the self serve soda fountain. A young dude inked up and seeming less than coherent. You never can tell.

We ordered the new chicken bowl. It sucked. Full of gristle and bone. I actually couldn’t finish it. I was disgusted. I have a slightly broken molar bottom left that has a jagged edge. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I discovered a giant wad of chicken cartilage lodged in it, so I spat it onto Vineland Avenue as I sped away.

We waited at an unwiped table for too long for a tiny shitty bowl of gruel. During that time the guy in the chair asked for my help in fastening his watch. I think he said, “Hey Bro, can you help me with this?” I didn’t mind. I helped him. It ended up on the inside of his wrist and I wondered if he wanted it turned around so it sat on top. He told me no.

I started thinking about him and imagined he was some sort of gangster who’d gotten lit up pretty messy.

I met a guy the other day that within just a few minutes was lifting his shirt to show me ugly scars from being stabbed by some guy on meth that owed him money.

People are strange wherever you go.

Today I sold a piece of audio equipment that was pretty close to my heart. The Cranesong STC8, was the most brilliant stereo buss compressor I’ve ever used. Last stage before the two track. I liked to plug the output of the console into it, the Cranesong, and then it into the half inch via XLRs. Nostalgically melancholy. Oh well, I’m up $2k.

Those of you I offered it to privately should be ashamed you didn’t bite. It went to a good home. A passionate engineer from Mexico who’s company is called Pigsound because he likes a fat sound. I left him in the lobby with the gear while I went back up to my apartment to get a business card. I let him know I trusted him so he knew he could trust me. I came back down with my card. Then he paid me.

We bonded a little. It was a lucky day for both of us. It is an exceptionally musical piece of gear that will now be making Latin music. I checked him out. He’s got talent. Cool studio. Nice gear. My advice to Fernando is more tubes. A certain amount of harmonic distortion is a good thing. Don’t forget that very bottom toggle switch, it’s key.

I told Fernando I’d call him to make sure he was happy. Maybe then I’ll ask him if he wants to know about distortion. He doesn’t need my input but I could show him a few things. Distortion can be anyone’s friend. It’s merely electric dissonance. Dissonance makes the heart grow fonder.

A beautiful woman has given me sincere advice that I have no idea what to do with.

For the first time in months, I have rent before it’s due. Cool.

Drinks for my friends.

It is with mild trepidation that I wade in on the AIG debacle. I’m no economist so I don’t pretend to understand the nuances and compelexities of what is obviously a convoluted and contentious imbroglio.

Honestly, I wouldn’t pretend to grasp the big picture any better.

Still there are things worth pointing out. I think it’s at least salient to acknowledge that the $165 million in bonuses aren’t even equivalent to the drop in ones pants following a protracted post urinal dance after an evening of copious beer consumption. The number itself really is much ado about nearly nothing. Having said that, I’m well aware the symbolism here as an indicator of the morally as well as ethically bereft culture we fight simultaneously along side the fiduciary malfeasance and overt criminality.

AIG sucks. Fucking crooks.

Through the revolving door only to emerge on the other side. I’m not at all comfortable with this idea of an excise tax, whereby the Feds step in and take 91% of the contractually (pre-Obama) negotiated bonuses. It’s a little too punitive for me. It feels knee jerk and it solves not a goddamn thing.

What I’m trying to tell you here is this is a soap opera on a black and white TV while a live championship rodeo is full tilt boogie less than a hundred yards away.

With most of us so broke we can only afford to pay attention, should we spend any more currency on this? It’s two beetles fighting in a jar while the Hindenburg slow motion bellyflops on the tarmac of infamy. Sheezus!

Our Man said “it’s on me”. He implied that it’s done and he’ll do his best to mitigate it but there are far bigger fish to fry so shut up and stay with me here. Fifty some days in and I’m losing you people? To this? $165 million is a fiftieth of what we spend before the first drop of Presidential urine plummets into the cool water of an ornate White House throne on any given morning.

In a perfect world, AIG would have been so ashamed, we’d never hear of any of this. They would have shut these greasy executives down. They’d have said “in a pig’s ass”, or, “here’s a keychain, how’s the wife and kids?”. They would have been asked to leave early in every sense of the word.

Yeah right. These are the 30 to 1 geniuses. If these assholes own calculators they don’t use them.

So anyway, that didn’t happen.

Did the Obama administration drop the ball? I suppose they did. So many people, Republicans in particular, are so loathsomely and disingenuously concerned that our man has his fingers in too many pies. He’s trying too hard. He needs to focus. Most of those very same people are flogging this issue like the carcass is even breathing.

The AIG bonuses are simply not germane to the big picture. Our man understands that. Many of you do not.

Just about everything I see this man do speaks to me of both short and long term thinking. The big picture.

Sixty days. He’s been here sixty days.

Today, Obama talked to Iran, “the promise of a new beginning” that is “grounded in mutual respect.” -CNN

That gesture of profound reason and noble diplomacy was eclipsed by Sarah Palin pissing and moaning that Obama had compared his bowling skills to that of a Special Olympian on The Tonight Show”.

“This was a degrading remark about our world’s most precious and unique people, coming from the most powerful position in the world,” Palin said in a statement released Friday. -CNN

I will leave you with this: What’s the difference between Sarah Palin’s mouth and her vagina? Only one retarded thing has come out of her vagina.

Drinks for my friends.

A massive swing of the pendulum to the right along about 1999. A percieved, albeit shallow impetus had been in place since Newt Gingrich fell from grace. Republicans got out outfoxed by Bubba. Clinton spanked their faces with bricks. They were pissed.

So, it had been brewing despite their growing power, not because of it. Slow but deliberate and venemously vengeful at the behest of the most unimaginably foul people. Like a bow being drawn. Weird. I ask myself about the hang time. I wondered how long circumstances and zeitgeist would favor such momentum. Rules of inertia and gravity dictated it would swing back, but social will and thorough retardation of the great unwashed can effect more than the laws of physics.

How is it a grown man pulls off the name Newt? He’s a bit of a baby face.

Years go by. Dark and horrible years. Death, destruction and redistribution of wealth on a biblical scale. Richard Bruce Cheney. Karl Rove. Unimaginably foul people.

Then, seems like it’s been forever, but the arc of the bob is once again in motion. It grows larger. It steams towards us. It’s path is to the left by way of East . After years of near suspended animation, the air displaced as she gains velocity goes from a whistle to a howl. I worry about apogee and thrust. Seems she’s coming too fast.

The initial violence of the movement could send the bob swinging violently over the top. Three hundred sixty degrees. It’s that nine o’ clock position I worry about. No need to go far past there on the dial. Ninety degrees.

Sad and regrettable that events so odious as an economic implosion were the only catalyst with mass enough to dislodge the bob from it’s parking place in the neoconservative lot.

From a howl to a scream.

Ah well, here it comes and this is America goddamnit. Religious adherence is down, correspondingly, common sense is up. The pious right revealed as the shallow, callow, two dimensional fucktards they are. Credibility across that side of the spectrum in severe disrepair.

Republicans are flailing in a vast puddle of human excrement. Yes, their own shit.

Ann Coulter and The Human Shitsmear Rush Limbaugh bleat incendiary expletives between gags on authentic Red White and Blue liberal American cock. Cheney shows up on TV specifically to say thet we’re already less safe because we don’t torture. Just tell me what has to happen to shut this quacking, rounheaded, corpulent fingered fucking penguin the fuck up.

Booya! Bitch!

Are you getting the sense this is an angry sort of hit piece? I gotta tell you I’m feeling it. I really hate these bastards. I’m not even sure what I mean about that American cock bit, but it speaks to the spirit and depth of my rage somehow.

This is an opportunity for progressive thinkers to pay it forward. Foment and supply the kind of disciplined thinking, politics, and ethics America has been so deliberately starved of for so long. Pushback. Give to the ignorant and fearful in equal measure what they’ve so successfully crammed down our gullets for the last eight years at least.

They can all blow me.

Go ahead with the truth. It is more than good enough.

Drinks for my friends.

I hope you don’t think this is lame but I’m kinda having fun here. I promise this will be the last time I visit this soap opera upon you. But you know, Dewitt fired back and I couldn’t help myself.

He said:
“My mother said never argue with a fool; those listening may think it a discussion among equals.

Please try to understand that when I say you are stupid, rude and disrespectful, what I really mean is that you are stupid, rude and disrespectful. You have stalked my blogs for more than two years now, countering whatever I post with profanity and mindless obscenities. Not once have you agreed with anything I posted. That is not the behaviour of anyone with whom I choose to engage in meaningful adult dialog.

You are no “intellectual bully.” You are merely a schoolyard punk intent on silencing any and all with whom you disagree.

For the benefit of others who may be following this exercise in stupidity: both Fascism and Nazism grew out of the Democratic Socialist movements of the countries of their origin. Obamunism is no different from those failed ideologies of the past.”

Well then. I had this to say:

This is the best you can do?

I sincerely doubt those ‘listening’ would imagine this to be a discussion among equals. Who does nothing but hurl insults? No facts. No logical refuting. No substantiative pushback on any level whether it be issue or mere theory. I’ve insulted you all along because I can’t help it. I mean to say you’re a jackass.

But I’ve always visited you on your own territory with facts and evidence. Items for you to counter or find flaw with. Yet, you never do. Never ever. The deeper I plunge into your basement of bullshit, the less sense you make when trying to defend yourself. You are a paper tiger. Full of shit.

Look at me, I’m talking to you, not stalking you. Don’t flatter yourself. You are a random, convenient fool when I can’t find anything in the news to piss me off and I feel the need to write. Thank you for being so consistent in that regard. You’re an excellent dunce for my blog of nearly a hundred thousand readers. You say, “countering whatever I post with profanity and mindless obscenities.” Yeah, plenty of profanity for sure. It’s kinda the way I do it. But, I have never in my adult life uttered a mindless obscenity. At least not in print. Like I said, I always come with informed opinions. I cite sources and provide details. Facts.

Bitch.

Then you say for the umpteenth time, “You are no “intellectual bully.” You are merely a schoolyard punk intent on silencing any and all with whom you disagree.” I must admit you’re not entirely wrong here. The thing is this. I want you to shut up. You’re full of shit and I want you to shut the fuck up. You’re a frightened aging man who might have the capacity to understand the world around you if you stopped jumping at all the shadows you’ve been indoctrinated with over your sixty plus years. If you stopped being so angry. If you stopped being so scared. If you stopped being so goddamned ignorant.

Until you can do any of that I’m having a tough time coming up with any sympathy for you.

Shut up.

Here’s something for you just for fun. I know you won’t have anything intelligent to say but I’m laying this trap for you and telling you I’m laying a trap. Remember I asked you those three questions? No answer. Scaredy cat. Same deal here. Given that you’re so obsessed with life and control of reproductive rights, how would you, how could you justify the murder of anywhere between 100,000 and a million Iraqis in a war we waged without reason or provocation?

That’s your America. That’s your red, white and fucking blue.

Shut up.

Your people got us way deep into this clusterfuck, my people are here to try to get us out. You are in the way.

Shut the fuck up.

Drinks for my friends.