In my country, this will be the national anthem:

This from earlIsebella.

“I am 22 years old and my sex imply has gone down to all but nothing.
Sex with my boyfriend of 5 years has eternally been excellent and I possess eternally had an orgasm.
I habituated to to masturbate and dont drawn do that anymore. I dont dig what’s come to grief with me.
I old to every seem to be like sex and now I look for ways to get out of it,
but the transmute in my sex predilection is counterfeiting my relationship.
Am I lacking vitamins or nutrients that sham my sex oblige? What can I do to fix this problem?”

If I could write like this, I would.

It is quite simply, the finest prose I’ve ever read.

Peace.

Drinks for my friends.

Cheney and Gonzales indicted by grand jury. Stevens loses in Alaska and Lieberman gets to carry on while we try to move on. Tres Grandes beg for big cash and I can’t believe Our Man is smiling. Sheezus.

I hate that Benedict Fliptop gets off easy. He sucks. If he doesn’t owe, there won’t be an ounce of flesh from anybody else. No truth, no consequences. Harry Reid says nolo contendere. It’s done. Pussies. Flopsweat cowboys in big stupid hats.

“(CNN) — A grand jury in south Texas indicted Vice President Dick Cheney and former Attorney General Alberto Gonzales on separate charges related to alleged prisoner abuse in federal detention centers, Willacy County District Attorney Juan Angel Guerra told CNN Tuesday”

I hear this guy’s a bit of a loose cannon, already voted out of office and described by an underling’s lawyer as a “one man circus.” Whatever. Godlovehim. He got a grand jury to indict Gonzales and the VP. Get his headstone ready and make sure this deed is etched upon it. Let’s start an aluminium can drive to pay for it. Ha! Give that man a can of warm beer and an American flag. Lifetime supply of Slim Jims and special packages from Frito Lay, Hostess and Kraft. Free cable. Nascar tickets.

What we have here is an American.

Meanwhile, having just been dropped by an air & sea rescue helicopter onto the deck of the USS Fuck Me Runnin’, Obama had this to say via ship radio, “Wow, this shit is fucking whack. Where’s the goddamn bridge? We need an assload of helicopters ’cause we aint staying here. Si se puede get us the fuck out of here.”

HillRod for Secretary of State by God!

This man is walking towards the four horses of the apocalypse. He has a water pistol. I trust. He’s as good or better swordsman than anyone else who had a shot. Handy with a sixgun. He’s about to be ambushed by the full weight of the world. A world, in as close to as bad a shape as anytime in written history.

He knows this.

And he’s smiling.

Hands folded in his lap.

Looked Steve Kroft in the eye Sunday night and had a lot to say. Just as cool as could be. A full hour on 60 Minutes. *President Cucumber. Awe inspiring composure. The most intelligent and well executed campaign I’ve ever seen. Best that anyone alive has ever seen. He suffered the slings and arrows and just kept coming.

He just kept coming. Extraordinary and we’re about to find out how.

Will Atlas shrug?

I say, he’s not too sexy for his shirt.

Walk right out into a brand new day.

Drinks for my friends.

*nickname alert

Damned if we do, damned even further if we don’t.

I agree with Our Man and Ben Stein even.

If we weren’t in an unprecedented economic clusterfuck, gaining speed and momentum while heading down the rapids towards a mile high waterfall, it might be different. I’d be inclined to say say fuck ’em. Talk about obtuse mismanagement. These CEO’s should all be thrown over a clothesline with their dicks tied together.

Particularly GM Stud Duck, Rick Wagoner. An eater of lead paint chips in charge of the retarded.

These guys suck. In a more perfect world, they should be placed on a park bench, allowed to fondle themselves and get thrown in jail for lewd and lascivious behavior. Blueblood induced retardation.

Maybe that’s what’s up here. Too much inbreeding of what was once the Intelligentsia. Now candidates for Down’s syndrome and systemic organ failure. No longer the smartest guys in the room.

Fortunately for them and unfortunately for us, we allow their implosion at our peril. That blows, but it is what it is.

With the loss of jobs at a precipitously precarious point, we simply cannot afford to let this proliferate. Sorry about that.

So, let’s figure out what’s needed to put these monolithic companies back on track. Make sure the emphasis is on green technology, reasearch and development. Start the eco-friendly foundation for America’s new infrastructure right there. The auto industry. Nice cornerstone. Symbolic even.

That sounds like a really good idea to me. Seriously.

Next, we take the top brass from all three, place them in low income housing in Bakersfield, limit their grocery alternatives to convenience stores, no cable, no air conditioning and the only booze options being Pabst Blue Ribbon and white zinfandel. What the hell, they get toothless whores and access to bad biker speed that reeks of petrochemicals and has a pinkish hue.

Board games and cards. They’ll be shanking each other within weeks.

I’m not without compassion you know.

Seriously, this should be an official government program. All executives from every financial institution that fails should be forced to live in the same complex under the same circumstances.

All there would be left to do is fence it off, put up some razor wire and hire guards with a history of violence and opposition to authority. Make sure they’re well equipped and have the latest weaponry and armor at their disposal and we’re done here.

All Bakersfield all the time.

See, the neoconservative maxim is, accuse your opponent of exactly what you’re shoulders deep into. This isn’t just fisting. That’s how they arrived at the ‘socialist’ and/or ‘terrorist’ smears this time around. They have terrorized the American people for decades and their policies will force us into a kind of socialism, at least temporarily, to save ourselves.

Bet your ass, while we go about pursuing change and righting the wrongs, the better we do, the louder they will scream those very things. Fucktards. Idiot mouth breathing soldiers of willfull ingnorance.

Fuck me. Fuck them. Fuck anything that moves.

Drinks for my friends.

We would ride our bikes to school. Fifth and sixth grade. All the way across town.

The schoolbus was far more convenient, yet riding a bike to anywhere wasn’t far when I was thirteen. Time was a factor. It was fascinating. From east of town. From sand, weeds and sagebrush to old oaks, cottonwoods and pines of the west side. Six or seven miles apart. Always a headwind blowing from the west. Always. Everyday. Every goddamn day.

Like it blew to keep us away.

Gliding through office and government building parking lots I would later work in or have cause to enter. Jumping curbs and sending shopping carts careening down loading bays.

Eventually, we stopped going to school on the days we rode our bikes. We just explored. I learned the beginning of everything back then. Time no longer a factor. I began to spectate. I understood it was important to observe. Watch and learn.

Nothing too serious. A few days a month. Sometimes we took a cab. We earned money by visiting his mother at the grocery store. She gave us cold currency for the coupons we clipped. Completely illegal but she took it right out of the register. She was every bit as confused as we were. Not at all a good mother.

We’d walk away with twenty or thirty bucks a piece. Mad cash for a twelve year old in the 70’s.

I remember smoking pot for the first time with him and his mom. We watched Carrie and the first Rocky movie on cable. All of twelve years old and we were doing bong hits with his mom while mother and son passed a Benson & Hedges menthol back and forth. She was the first woman to cause me to notice misdemeanor eyebrow tweezing abuse.

Not a bad woman, just not equipped to deal with two teenagers on her own.

There was an older sister with huge boobs named Tammy. The third girl to live on our block by that name, my sister being the first. In the middle was a girl belonging to Tim and Mary but overseen by Fred and Mary. I actually kissed her once while she was in hypoglycemic fugue. The third, not the middle. We stole a bottle of Ten High whiskey out of a truck at the end of the block and she drank most of it. We all made out with her.

Then there was the stepfather, Bill. A large unpredictable man with a baby face and a history of being institutionalized. It was a four bedroom trailer and he had his own room. It was always locked. Cool Budweiser poster on the door.

I was smart enough to be wary of the man. I avoided him. I understand now he was bipolar. Effusive and friendly one moment, red faced and raging the next. He wasn’t always around. Sometimes he was in the “hospital”.

It being a trailer with weak internal doors, my friend and I soon figured out how to access Bill’s room. What we found was fascinating.

Guns and ammo. Lots of guns and lots of different kinds of bullets. Everything shining. Neat as a pin. Beer posters and porno mags. It was his paradise. He smoked a pipe and there was evidence everywhere. Cleaners and scrapers and multi-tool instruments that looked like nail clippers. All the attendant paraphernalia……

There was a twin bed and somehow his pillowcase was the same as mine. It was the exact same Star Wars pillowcase as on my bed.

I lifted bullets and powder from that room for my own experiments. I think he even had blasting caps. Drove a lime green faux wood panelled station wagon. It was the the impetus of my pyromaniacal season. It ended up being a long season. I wanted my own fort in the desert filled with porno mags and guns.

I ended up blowing a lot of shit up.

To this day he is one of the most dangerous and unbalanced men I’ve ever met. But a giant vagina nevertheless. I always knew that if things went south to black, I could call my old man at the other end of the same street. Realistically, there was six to eight inches between the two and probably sixty to eighty pounds.

Dad would have shown up in his workboots and his concrete caked hard hat, he never took it off until he showered before dinner. He would have kicked the big whiteboy’s ass or scared the living shit out of him. The next morning, well before the sun, he would have read the paper while smoking a cigarette on the toilet in our only bathroom. lit the furnace, and gone to work pouring concrete on some highrise in the dead of winter in the high desert.

I think it’s pretty obvious why I hung out there. The most interesting lives on my block.

We’d steal chewing tobacco and donuts from the blind man stands in the government buildings. A few times we found kitchens in office buildings and helped ourselves. I can only guess there were no security cameras in those days. I remember being fascinated and somewhat in awe of the amenities provided to office workers. Cool.

Somehow we avoided real trouble. I think because we became excellent thieves. We were shitty liars so we did our best to not end up having to lie. It was only when we had to lie that we got caught. We stole all the mail on our block once. I think we both ended up talking to Carson City’s finest on that one.

Somewhere in this time I had a bully. His name was Ron Dalton and I’m still confused as to how or why I let him push me around for as long as I did. Skinny little prick with a sour face straight out of a Beavis and Butthead episode.

I stood up to him one day and that was it. He was a giant vagina. It was that easy. I burned way more angst over it than I should have. I was a giant vagina too. I should have just beat his ass. Years later, his older brother pulled a knife on me and a friend we called Thos B. Right there in CC in the House of Ormsby.

Somehow it was a walk in the park to shut him down. He was at least as dumb as his brother. I actually got him out in the parking lot and got it away from him. We didn’t struggle, he gave it to me. Ask Thos B.

Anyway.

My friends place was filled with cheap paneling, avacado colored appliances, gold shag carpeting, bad linoleum, macrame, orange plastic ashtrays and knitted stuff.

Plenty of juice in the fridge and granola bars in the pantry. Far less supervision than my house.

If you lived in a Double Wide in that era, there were two huge windows at the front of your trailer facing the street. The windows were bisected by an architectural artifice intended to conceal where the two halves were joined. These windows were always so big as to bathe the forward most chambers with as much ambient light as could be.

When I was twelve, I put my hand through one of those windows and lost a chunk of flesh from my right wrist and muscle from my thumb. It all took place at my good friend’s trailer. He called the ambulance but sent them to my house. Told me he was looking to get in as little trouble as possible. This, despite the front of his trailer sporting the random graffiti of my sprayed blood.

We wrapped a roll of paper towels around my wrist and hand and pointed our bikes towards my place.

The ambulance ride was something.

There’s a lot more I want to tell you. Ketchup packets are an enviromental disaster but it’s the best ketchup there is. I’m now forty three. These events were thirty years ago. I imagine there’s plaque in my arteries and my teeth are gonna start falling out eventually.

I have no children and that’s ok because I never really grew up.

I entertained the notion but it’s just not for me.

I twisted and cheated but mostly in my younger years. I spent some formative years way off the map. I am flawed. I have regrets but I don’t lose sleep. I never really fucked anybody. Not nearly as hard as I’ve been, for what it’s worth.

I bought a house once. It was beautiful. Me and my fiancee lived in it for over two years. It makes me sad to think about it. The Bean died there. We painted and landscaped to make it our own. I still smart when I think of that cat and that life. I think her death was pregnant with things I could no longer avoid.

The whole thing certainly seems to have marked the end and the beginning of many things.

It’s always ending and beginning.

What to do with melancholy on any given day.

Sometimes I wish I could start over. I’ll bet that’s not uncommon.

Did I tell you about the five cars waiting for us at the county line and being issued foam slippers and an orange jump suit? Making the front page of my hometown paper?

Um, there’s plenty more. Lots more. Yep.

Life’s been good to me so far.

Drinks for my friends.

I go back and forth with this guy once in awhile. Sometimes I have to go looking for something to make me mad. Trust me it’s rare.

This is what set me off:

“Never once have I felt it necessary to impugn the character or the intelligence of the writer of a blog I visited. But then I’m not a liberal moron. . .
I also don’t understand the compulsion felt by so many of the liberal persuasion to post such obscenities as to embarass a drunken sailor on shore leave. But, as I said, I’m not a liberal moron.” -Dewitt

He’s referring to me.

Here’s my response:

Here’s where your problem starts: “liberal moron”. Many of us think you’re a “conservative moron”. For what it’s worth, it’s more insulting than something like ‘dipshit fucktards’.

You think that you’re somehow not subject to, or deserving of criticism because you shy away from expletives and therefore enjoy some immunity from being called rude or ignorant or hateful.

The truth is, I’ve read some of the most shallow, hateful vitriol and blatant generalizations on your blogs as I’ve read anywhere.

See, I think you’re a narrow minded old man that is both afraid and confused. Having said that, I don’t imagine you to be a bad guy, just tragically misguided.

Hot bigot love.

In his next blog he says:

“No matter how noble Obama’s intentions, the world will not respond nobly, and we shall learn once again that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Bad things will happen in the next four years.

Obama’s “Peace At Any Cost” foreign policy will be a monumental disaster. Folks in the middle east are already dancing in the streets. Al Qaeda has not struck US territory for seven years. That will change. Soon.” -Dewitt

Translation: We’re on a highway to hell and an attack is imminent because we elected Obama.

By the way, this will be different from the first year of the last two administrations how? Sooner or later we’re gonna get hit again, with any luck, this time our own government won’t be complicit.

Then, douchebaggery ensued:

“My fellow Americans, on November 4, 2008 a sizable majority of you went into voting booths across America and elected Barack Hussein Obama; a black man who had made a career of race hustling, who sat in a racist church for twenty years, who actively worked with domestic terrorists committed to the destruction of the USA, and whose election campaign was to a large degree based on White Guilt and accusations of racial intolerance.” -Dewitt

Translation: You elected a slick talking racist nigger, who seeks to destroy America and he got past you by playing to your enormous guilt for being white, priveledged and superior.

I gotta tell ya Dewitt. That’s fucking disgusting. One hundred eighty goddamn degrees out of phase. You suck.

But wait, there’s more:

“The final bastion, that last vestige of institutionalized racism in the USA, is the black community itself. (The very existence of a “black community” proves it’s racist nature.) Isn’t it time to outlaw the Congressional Black Caucus, the United Negro College Fund, and the NAACP? How long shall we tolerate these obviously racist constructs with their blatant prejudice against white people?” -Dewitt

Is it just me, or does He just not get it? Is it just me, or is Dewitt an asshole?

He responds:

“You just can’t speak without profanity and insults can you? You really do need therapy!” -Dewitt

No shit, that’s what he said.

There’s all kinds of them out there.

Talk to me.

Drinks for my friends.

Seriously. Secretary of State. I’m on board. She’s a junior Senator under Chuck Schumer, looking at a long road to affect the kind of change to which she clearly aspires.

In a heavy drawer, rattling and gleaming with talent, HillRod might just might be the sharpest dagger.

This, a window open, a glance makes it obvious what potential stirs inside. An instance where Hillary and yes, Bill, could impact and influence the shape of the world to come. Who better to do such from that office? A necessity if we are to survive, much less prosper. The depth and breadth of influence and expertise team Billary would bring is huge. They blow into the casino with an intimidating pile of chips and all the dealers happy to see them.

The world knows it and you do too.

I beseech you, oh Billary, to take this gig. Your country needs you. Several months ago I wrote a blog detailing my cabinet picks for an Obama administration. Among my choices were Big Bad Bill for the most venerated of posts.

I stand by that. The Clinton brand being appointed to Secretary of State is second perhaps only to that of Our Man being elected Commander in Chief in terms of gravity around the world and whatnot. I don’t believe I’ve ever even typed the word “whatnot” before. Weird.

The official brainspank endorsement for Secretary of State goes to Hillary Clinton. C’mon Hills, you wanna change the world or not?

Dan Savage is becoming a celebrity. Good for him.

Now is not the time to fuck around. No ego, no hubris. On the other hand, think of the Clinton legacy if you must. Just take the gig. You would rock it.

Guess what? Barack Obama has been elected and he’s so fucking cool!

“Take that Canada……….your head of state is a boring white dude named Stephen Harper, and mine is a kick ass black ninja named Barack Hussein Obama!” -Bill Maher

It’s getting better all the time.

Drinks for my friends.

*new nickname alert

We shall overcome.

The difference in hard numbers between those who voted against fair and equal rights for gays last time around and this time, prop. 8, is staggering. Encouraging.

20 plus points in two thousand as compared to four points this time. Talk about a shrinking violet. You thinking what I’m thinking? Do the math.

Progressives need to start pushing for a ballot initiative post haste. We need to get one on the ballot every election cycle. It’s a matter of time. The seismic upheaval we witnessed in this election has not begun to run dry of portent. Nope. As of this writing, it grows and gains strength. The downtrodden realize that their voice is legitimate and vital.

Fight fire with fire. Watch the jaws of the bigots drop as we push to put this issue on the ballot over and over until enough die off and allow us the majority we need for one of the last and most important civil rights issues to prevail.

Walk right out into a brand new day.

The tyranny of a majority is near to being obsolete.

The irony of Mormon culpability in all this rocks my planet. That these sick, sacred underwear wearing fucks, take it upon themselves to inject their archaic moral standards into modern American life is beyond audacious. What possible reason could such pious idiots have for the steaming hardon they brandish exclusively for homosexuals?

Just who the fuck do you think you are?

The extreme ends of their cult, the sick and disgusting fringe of their dogma, would make your average Southern Baptist blush and run to refill his flask. Revoke their tax exempt status for the role they played. They waded into politics and it should cost them. I’m sick and fucking tired of religion intruding into public policy and politics.

There is no religious bureaucracy in this country that isn’t guilty. They should all have their tax exempt status jerked away. I will tell you that the very idea religious institutions in this country deserve to enjoy any autonomy at all is ridiculous.

Money may be the root of all evil but money and religion are synonymous.

Tony Perkins from the Family Research Council is an asshole. He and his ilk are a dying breed. The racism and discrimination he and his organization espouse are near obsolete. I’m not reluctant to share with you that I despise this prick and all his misguided minions.

Organized religion is mankind’s single biggest mistake.

The single most positive thing human beings can accomplish in my lifetime is to walk away from this absurd idea of Santa in the sky.

“Two men say theyre jesus one of them must be wrong” -Mark Knopfler

Drinks for my friends.

Nov 12, 2008 7:25 PM
Why The Bailout Isn’t Working
Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson announced today that the government will not be purchasing troubled assets from banks, as they had previously planned to do. This is a startling reversal, given that this was the centerpiece of the original bailout package. Such an abrupt about-face is hardly encouraging as it begs the question of what exactly the government has been doing all this time and calls into question whether those in charge really have any idea how to solve our problems.

It is common knowledge by now that the root cause of our financial difficulties is excessive debt. Across the whole economic landscape – from individual homeowners to corporations to the government – everyone dug themselves into financial holes that they are now unable to climb out of. This being the case, doesn’t it seem odd that the government’s solution to the crisis is to borrow even more money to shower upon the financial sector in hopes that they will start lending again? This is like treating a patient suffering from alcohol poisoning by force-feeding him another drink.

Yes, functioning credit markets are an essential part of a modern industrial economy, but we seem to have lost sight of the fact that the ultimate health of an economy is based on individuals and corporations creating, buying, and selling valuable goods and services. Yet virtually all of the money the government is spending on its rescue efforts are aimed at Wall Street rather than Main Street. The credit markets ought to be the servant of the real economy, rather than the other way around.

Does nobody find it strange that, while hardly anyone bats an eyelash at the latest hundred-billion-dollar bailout of a bank or insurance company, we hear nothing of plans for increased public spending on infrastructure, technology, or education? Is it really better use of taxpayer money to pour countless billions into a financial black hole like AIG rather than investing in technology and education which will improve the long-term ability of American workers and corporations to compete in the global economy? What if, instead of spending a trillion dollars to help banks avoid the consequences of their own foolishness, we spent that money on building bridges and roads, developing alternative energy, and retraining American workers with outdated skills?

Forgetting for a moment the question of fairness, let’s consider from a purely practical point of view which approach to rescuing the economy is most likely to work.

All of the measures aimed at repairing the credit markets are based on the presupposition that once banks stop the financial bleeding they will resume “normal lending”, thereby rescuing the economy. The rationale underlying this argument is based on a very questionable assumption. Even if banks are willing to lend, borrowers need to perceive attractive uses for capital or they will have no incentive to utilize the available credit. After all, if someone offered you a zero interest loan to purchase real estate right now, would you do it? Two years ago virtually everyone would have answered this question in the affirmative, but things have changed since then.

In the absence of solid investment opportunities, the government can print all of the money it wants, but it may still be incapable of stimulating the real economy. I would argue that the trauma of the last several months has fundamentally changed public attitudes to debt and that a return to “normal lending” is neither possible nor desirable. Do we really want to go back to a state in which people borrow as much as they possibly can in order to buy bigger TVs and homes they can’t really afford?

If, on the other hand, the government announced that it was going to spend a trillion dollars to repair roads and bridges, build wind farms, and retrain American workers, the stimulative effects would be far more certain. Millions of jobs would be created and those millions of employees would have an increased ability to spend and invest. This seems like a far more effective way of battling the current crisis than pouring money into banks and insurance companies in the hopes that they will return to business as usual.

My girlfriend is mixed. German and African American. In most people’s eyes, she’s black. Whatever. She’s extraordinarily well educated, smart as a whip besides, and comes from a good and noble family. She’s also hot.

Oh, and crazy.

I’m a self made man. Grew up in a trailer and suffered rednecks in my youth.

Here’s the deal. She asserts that Ruffles Cheddar Cheese & Sour Onion and Cream potato chips are better than any cheap brand of BBQ chips, Lays for the sake of argument, on the average sandwich made with cheap white bread.

My point is that although her chips are delicious, and they are, they are too thick and crunchy for the average trailer park white bread sandwich. I believe I have some exclusive expertise in this area. I submit that the delicate crunch and copious grease, as well as the sweet salty seasoning of the inexpensive barbecue chip makes it far more suitable and indeed complimentary to any sandwich prepared with two slices of grocery store brand cheap white bread.

Do you know how easy it is to to transform a slice of such bread into a marble the size of a pinball using only thumb and forefinger? We like our dough.

I suggested to her that her brand may be better suited to a french roll or some kind of bun. This rocked her on her heels. It was like a powerful wind blew between us. I shot at her and she fled the dark alley where we were discussing it. Then she shot back from a corner.

What she doesn’t understand is the texture quotient. It’s low and therefore important. For example, given the thickness and rigidity of her brand, the mere thickness of the enclosure is not the only factor. The texture of her chips require benefit from a further ballast, like thinly sliced pickle and fresh spinach leaves. Moisture. Not too mention lubrication beyond mayo and mustard; condiments like pesto and tapenade necessarily come into play. Moisture. Big bread and dense chips equal dryness.

The secrets of any given sandwich lie in the contrasts of texture, flavor, moisture, sweet and salt.

By now you see the dangerous territory we entered into somewhat haplessly?

The sandwich we are now describing is far beyond the solar system of the humble one we were endeavoring to build with the most common of materials and ingredients.

Let us revisit the trailer. We use those wafer thin slices of ham and turkey from packaging without even a ziploc at the top. A buck twenty nine per, at most. Coat both slices of whitebread with Miracle Whip or real mayonnaise if you can. The cheese should be individually wrapped slices of Velveeta or a suitable off brand that is at least individually wrapped. One slice on each slab. Genrous ketchup on one and generous mustard on the other. A little salt and pepper never hurts. Pile the meat on the mustard side and apply the chips. A dense layer but not more than a third of an inch or so. Use you palm to compress if necessary.

Get yerself a grape fuckin soda.

Bonus question: What kind of chip works best in a milkshake?

Drinks for my friends.

How do we do this?

Sure, it was a landslide. By popular vote Our Man won by nearly ten million. Seven points separating him from Doubtfire. Look at the map, more blue than I’ve ever seen. America bleeds red, but her map has rarely been more blue. Indiana, North Carolina and Virginia? 364 electoral votes to 163. A thumpin’.

A shit sandwich on a week old hot dog bun with colonies of green and blue spores. No mayo no mustard, no lube whatsoever. The cheese is hard and sweaty. Flies.

In place is the single most imperative mandate I’ve witnessed in my adult life. For change. For hope. America is loud and clear. We’ve been offered this sandwich says She. We say, fuck this shit.

Torture, rendition, spying on our own without a warrant, indefinite incarceration, election fraud, preemptive war and aggression with nothing but bullshit justification, raids on the public coffers, Habeas Corpus rendered null and void, same deal for Posse Comitatus. A Constitution in tatters. It really does go on and on.

Here’s the sobering part. The reckoning.

Almost fifty nine million Americans voted for McCain. That many citizens of this country giving at least a tacit nod of approval by proxy for all this fuckery. Among them are bigots, racists, people with shitloads of money but without soul or conscience. The ignorant and the evil.

The scared.

We are still badly broken. Prop 8 passed in California. Racism and bigotry alive and well in this land of opportunity. How soon we forget. As recently as 1967, marriage between black and white was against the law in sixteen states. For those who would posit that the the law is the law and now constitutional, that we should let it be, succumb and surrender, I say piss up a fucking rope. I say this, because it is wrong.

Bitch slap: In california it was mormons and the minorities turning out for Obama who pushed prop 8 over the goddamn seawall. Narrow and deep irony. It’s a civil rights issue. Shame on you. Mormons are polluted by stupidity and ingnorance. Blacks and Latinos should be ashamed. Bad form. Hypocritical.

America is still profoundly fucked up.

History shows us that almost every worthwhile struggle starts at the bottom of a very steep hill. This one, no different. It will be ugly. Hearts and lives rent asunder along the way.

We’re no longer at the bottom. I can’t say how far we’ve come, but we are about to find out. Fascinating times. The paradigm shifts. Lava begins to rush.

So, how do we do this? Martin Luther King bequeathed upon us the most valuable and sagacious of maxims; consistent, unswerving, intelligent and righteous resistance. Absent violence of any kind.

There’s a remote chance that by asking them the same question over and over, they will realize how stupid the answer is. Don’t forget to tell them that you are a fiscal conservative. Lots of liberals are. They like that shit, they think they believe in it.

Let’s talk about the ‘scared’ shall we? I’ll be brave and guess that’s the common denominator between a third and half of the the almost 59 million. We need to find these frightened folks and get them a better haircut. Shave them if necessary. Treat them nice. Feed them well. Be kind.

Who doesn’t like pancakes with peanut butter?

A complimentary delousing. Free tupperware and sporks. New socks.

There plenty of fights to be had. Most will be easy to pick. For a lot of us however, our job is to engage. Get involved. No need to be confrontational, talk about what you care about. Keep it on the front page.

Forgive me. I’m serious. Waste no time on the dogmatic idealogues. They’re too far gone. Falwell can tell them to eat the children. He could and they would. Ever look into an evangelical’s eyes?

Find those eyes frozen by the headlights. Buy them a taco. Lead them from winter to spring. They’ll be melancholy for the previous season and nostalgic for the Abominable Snowman. Try to present the new season as fresh and hopeful. Point out the flowers and that animals both wild and domestic are fucking like mad.

Who doesn’t like pancakes with peanut butter?

You can see I’m struggling with this. I’m convinced on an intellectual level I’ve nailed it. Up here on the top floor, I own it. Not only makes sense but it’s wise.

Down below, closer to me gulliver, I’m all about making them pay. Evil or just plain stupid, they deserve some amount of consequence. Pricks. Dipshits.

But that’s no good, see?

The hopeless will resent it, the fearful won’t understand and they’ll hold it against us. Be nice to conservatives, at least until you figure them out.

Who doesn’t like pancakes with peanut butter?

Your mission is to figure them out and determine who is worth your time. Coming soon, a national Adopt a Pants Shitting Conservative Day.

Drinks for my friends.

I hate it when I’m a cop on TV and my informant gets whacked for talking to me.

I hate when I’m newspaper editor in a movie and I have to bury a story because of political pressure.

Just as bad when I’m a defense attorney and I know my client is guilty or when I’m a prosecutor and the defendant is innocent.

How can people eat sardines or pickled pigs feet? Sheezus.

I don’t like elevators. Every single time I get in one, I imagine worst case scenario. I lived in an old building in Korea Town. I lived on the top floor. The fourth floor. In three years, I never stepped foot inside it.

Why don’t they just sell those peanuts from Crackerjacks seperately?

I’m kinda anxious for time travel and instant transportation, as long as my identity and soul aren’t atrophied by the requisite scrambling of my molecules.

Smoking a cigarette in hard wind really mitigates the pleasure.

If it’s a Mercedes, there’s a good chance the driver is an asshole.

Man I hate getting stuck behind a truck or a bus.

I cannot figure out whether or not Andy Dick is an idiot.

I don’t beileve I’ve met or known a woman named Claire.

I like to jump to conclusions and then retrace my steps.

I’m instantly uncomfortable when pointed at.

Smiles are golden but frowns are interesting and entertaining. You should see the frown my oldest cat wears by default.

Looks like we have massive vote fraud in Alaska. Por ejemplo, turnout was down fourteen percent despite Alaska’s favorite daughter running for Vice President. There’s more. Google it.

Let me tell ya something.

Although I think the idea of combining coffee bars with bookstores is brilliant, I rarely take advantage. I make it a point to bring a book whenever I dine alone.

I miss toast. It’s been a while.

What’s the smartest thing to come out of a woman’s mouth? Einstein’s cock.

I had a nightmare last night where I had a forest of black hair covering my torso. It would make Ed Asner and Robin Williams blush on my behalf. Now where the fuck did that come from?

Endeavoring to be honest is often a burden. The level of commitment always mirrors the proportion of angst.

Do people who go crazy ever realize they were crazy and regret it?

I hate it when the goddamn vampires show up.

I really hope that those of you who would sacrifice liberty for security take it upon yourselves to shut the fuck up now.

Drinks for my friends.

Don’t go thinking we’re done.

I understand that it will take a while. I’m affording myself incremental morsels, occasional mouth fulls of hope and optimism. I can smell it and it’s like nothing else ever.

What the wind brings to my nose is rich and ripe. Beyond possibility and potential, there are notes of struggle and hard work in the gusts. The concept of thinking globally and acting locally is about to enjoy a brand new day. Personal responsibility and accountability will be celebrated. Our Man understands in no uncertain terms that we watch with a degree of scrutiny heretofore unseen and never even heard of by any Republican leader.

He’s under the microscope. He will have to talk to us frequently and honestly. Eyes wide open, he walks into the biggest mess an American President has ever seen.

The scent is clean as the wind is fresh.

From whence it blows matters little as there is honesty and community in all it’s notes.

America is now pregnant with possibility for the first time in a decade. Be ready for the role of midwife. Or shitwiper. Each and every, will be asked to participate. Without even saying it, the more who answer, the better our chances.

“I was born by the river in a little tent
And just like the river, I’ve been running ever since
It’s been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come

It’s been too hard living, but I’m afraid to die
I don’t know what’s up there beyond the sky
It’s been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come

I go to the movie, and I go downtown
Somebody keep telling me “Don’t hang around”
It’s been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come

Then I go to my brother and I say, “Brother, help me please”
But he winds up knocking me back down on my knees

There’ve been times that I’ve thought I couldn’t last for long
But now I think I’m able to carry on
It’s been a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come” -Sam Cooke

Get ready to be called upon. Your part might be magnanimous or merely peripheral. Prolific or a one time deal. Look for what you can do. Watch what happens and figure out for yourself how best you can be of help.

Without the involvement of her citizenry, America, after reaching the point she has, will fold.

Like a paper tent.

A pale rose without water.

A horse in the desert.

We’re in a ridiculous hole. Government WILL NOT solve our problems. Leadership of the rock solid variety just might. Pay attention. Read and then write if necessary. What has happened is astounding. It is a start. Proof that we’ve begun to understand. A cognizance I hope, pervasive enough, so that we understand we’ll all be required of.

An important window opened upon a still unlikely solution. Maybe luck played a role. I don’t know but I don’t really believe in luck. I can still say this, with any luck, we’re just getting started.

“C’mon people now,
Smile on your brother
Ev’rybody get together
Try and love one another right now” -Youngbloods

It’s a runaway train. The passengers will need to do more than rush the goddamn cockpit.

“I go reachin for a cigarette
She says no no baby I aint done yet” -The Gotohells

Drinks for my friends.

1. What color is your underwear right now?
I’m free. Commando. Otherwise it would be disco ball. Maybe leopard.

2. What are you listening to right now?
The sigh of brainrot.

3. What are the last 2 digits in your phone number?
If she survives the birthing, I’ll name her Peg.

4. What was the last thing you ate?
Parsnips and rutabagas. The latter has an edible tuber. Tuber is my new favorite word.

5. If you were a crayon what color would you be?
Yellow, red and orange. A fast food candle.

6. How is the weather right now?
Not as disease friendly as it has been. I imagine I should wash the linens again anyway. Politics was show business for ugly people until Tuesday night.

7. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
A caped crusader. I doubt it was The Caped Crusader. He did promise donuts. I think he said he worked for the government. That really threw me.

8. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?
Face, eyes, soul, happiness. Voluptuosness. Pretty much in that order.

9. Favorite type of Food?
Dense, thick with sauce and contrasting flavors. Lots of gravy and bread in case you don’t like it. I usually like a little greasiness but not always. I love sushi and the last few months have seen me become a whore for wasabi. Fucking pasta and cheesy tomatoey sauce. Deep fry a shoe and if there’s a good dip, I’m up to bat. Gimme some fucking cheese.

10. Do you drink?
Oh boy. Why do you ask? You’ve heard of the pro life movement? I’m pro booze and just as rabid and tenacious.

Water
Tons of it. I adore cold water. I keep icy water on hand at all times.

Milk
Not since I was seven.

Lemonade
Occasionally. The low sugar stuff. I prefer an Arnold Palmer, with the low sugar stuff.

11. Do you smoke?
Why yes. Do you fart?

12. Ever get so drunk you don’t remember?
Why yes. Rarely, but it’s happened. It makes me nervous.

13. What color are your eyes?
Blue. Bloodshot after I vomit or sneeze. Fire dances in them when I sit in front of a dancing fire.

15. Do you wear contacts?
Nope. Don’t like most of the people I know. Hate to be too attached.

16. Single?
As opposed to plural? Not really. I got’s me a female companion and she’s a little crazy. Oh well. She’s real good to me. I can’t imagine why she likes me as much as she does. I’m flattered.

17. Favorite Month?
Let’s hope it’s this one.

18. Ever cried for no reason?
Plenty of silly ones. Ever drive down the road and for an instant, glimpse a beautiful woman’s face?

19. Last Movie you watched?
Bark of the Lounger. Fuck and suck circus. Ebola ain’t shit.

20. Favorite day of the week?
Kinda self employed but I still like Friday night and Saturday morning. Otherwise I’d say Christmas afternoon at home.

21. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
Not if I’m smitten.

22. Hugs or Kisses?
Puppies and kittens. Deep, snot whistling kisses and then warm hugs and groping.

23. Chocolate or Vanilla?
He he, dog will hunt. Bing Crosby and Negro Romance comics.

24. Do you want your friends to respond?
I wish them luck. I only hope they remain responsive.

25. Who is most likely to respond?
Biodiesel.

26. Who is least likely to respond?
Saddam. Bin Laden. Ann Coulter, where you been?

27. What books are you reading?
Bugliosi and McClellan (Pasty McSquinty). Books that should have been articles. Shit really. I’ve got the latest Vonnegut around here somewhere.

28. Piercings?
Piss up a rope. Damn, my balls are seriously huge.

29. Fav. Movie of all time:
Horton Hears a Who. Blue Velvet. The Big Lebowski. Top Gun. Trinity And Beyond. Nobody’s Fool. Just about any western with Lee Van Cleef. No Country for Old Men and There Will Be Blood. Animal House. The Prestige and The Illusionist. Born Free and Old Yeller. Capote…………..

30. Fav. baseball team?
Right now that’d be Tampa because of my good buddy Hunter. A small man who brings lots to the table.

31. Any pets?
Yup. Beddy and Swirly. Proof. A handful of contemptible and insidious demons.

32. AIM?
– FIRE! (went with Dave on this one).

33. Butter, Plain or salted popcorn?
Goop it the fuck up and give me some Skittles and a diet coke. Got any caramel corn?

34. Dogs or cats?
Bitches. Cats.

35. Fav. flower?
Splodey ones. Fireworks. Desert ones. Hearty and pungent. Lavender and Rosemary. I like sunflowers and daisies but it’s not like they have a pleasant aroma. Orchids confuse and amaze me.

36. Have you ever fired a gun?
You bet. A whole mess o’ catfish.

37. Do you like to travel by plane as opposed to car?
I prefer a nuclear powered sub but there’s only so many waterways.

38. Right handed or left handed?
One hand feels like somebody else. I wipe with the left and eat with the right.

39. How many pillows do you sleep with?
I need three. One for me and one on each side for the other two of me.

40. Are you missing someone?
Missing, no. Lacking? Perhaps.

“Hello, world, here’s a song that we’re singin’,
c’mon get happy
A whole lotta lovin’ is what we’ll be bringin’,
we’ll make you happy

We had a dream we’d go trav’lin’ together
We’d spread a little lovin’ then we’d keep movin’ on
Somethin’ always happens whenever we’re together
We get a happy feelin’ when we’re singin’ a song

Trav’lin’ along there’s a song that we’re singin’,
c’mon get happy
A whole lotta lovin’ is what we’ll be bringin’,
we’ll make you happy
We’ll make you happy,
we’ll make you happy” -The Partridge Family

Drinks for my friends.

Nothing smells like a tire shop. I loved it. Always a chrome gumball machine. Newspapers, car magazines. Displays of motor oil, fascinating three dimensional cutaway presentations of tread and steel belts. All kinds of shit to look at and the coolest smell.

Kinda like the Barbershop behind Cactus Jack’s. It had it’s own vibe and there were comic books from Andy’s Smoke Shop around the corner on Main Street. A guy named Bob took care of me and the Old Man. Light blue smocks and the scent of Barbicide.

The tall jar of aquamarine disinfectant filled with combs is something that fascintes me to this day. I have an overwhelming compulsion to put red striped straws in with the combs.

Someday I’ll do that.

Dad always went first so I could get started reading a comic. I didn’t like getting my hair cut and I don’t know why. I’m not sure we’ve ever understood each other but he always understood what I needed.

The apparatus, gauges, hoses and tools at the tire shop set my imagination of fire. Pneumatic engines and hydraulic lifts leave a huge impression on a six year old. They lift the whole goddamn car! The sound and power of pneumatic wrenches. Every man’s hands were dirty but they were all friendly and smelled of hair tonic and aftershave. VO5, Tres Flores, Hi Karate, Brut, English Leather or Avon.

They all chewed gum. Some smoked cigarettes while chewing gum. They rarely removed the cigarette from their lips. They talked, smoked, chewed gum and worked on cars.

The Old Man was polite and talked to them with respect. They liked him. He liked them. They saw he was a man who made a living with his hands. Mutual all the way around. His Detroit muscle needed new rubber. Mercury Cyclone. Dirty snow steaming on the edges of the parking lot. Coffee in flimsy styrofoam.

I really like the sound of guns being cocked and loaded in the movies. Know what else? When the bartender in a movie slams the shot glass on the bar and fills it with whiskey. Great sound. There’s a reason musical instruments are made from wood.

I collect marbles. They fascinate me. I know the best glass blowers in America and I own their work. I keep them in large, shallow crystal bowls. The sound as I pick them up and put them back is sublime. I can barely stand it when somebody picks up a bowl and they roll in chaos against the side.

I have somewhere between two and three thousand comic books. I collected them from the age of eleven to sixteen or so. I read every single one. I haven’t looked at them since then. They’re in boxes in my closet.

Did you know that Ralph’s supermarket brand of SpaghettiOs is far superior to that of Franco-American? Not so sweet and much cheaper. Half the price. I bought five cans for five bucks not long ago. Off-brand Spaghettios should be a staple in any pantry. Cheap and nutritious. They’re best cold, straight out of the can. Trust me, I know. Use a soup spoon.

I’m really afraid of bees. Can’t help it. Took a barefoot walk through some clover when I was two. Don’t remember it but it’s a preternatural fear.

The last day before summer vacation in seventh grade was overcast. I don’t recall ever feeling lonelier.

I miss the eighties and the nineties. I’d go back.

I’ve done heroin. Twice. I smoked it and snorted it. I’d been around it enough, I was young. I was curious. I’d already done just about everything else.

The lead singer from a band named Dumpster indulged me. His girlfriend was a falling pornstar with the ugliest pussy I’d ever seen. She brought him his rig every night around seven. His name was Robert. She showed up with a black lacquered box that was somehow ceremonial. She was thin and white. Tall and sweet. Brunette.

One morning he was there before me, missing an eyebrow. He and told us an elaborate story about waking up and finding it intact on his pillow. Laid out perfectly, he told us with a sweep of his hand. An interesting and angry man. Compelling. He liked life.

We were happy to be there.

He told me about getting hit in the head with a full beer can from a speeding car while walking down a highway in the South. He said he thought he had it coming because he was just some punk.

His left front tooth was broken, he shaved his head and had brilliant blue eyes. He reminded me somehow of Anton LaVey. Very, very smart. Confrontational by nature, aggressive if you happened to be stupid.

He hid behind being a hick sometimes.

The drummer showed me some porn Robert’s girlfriend starred in. That’s how I know she had beef curtains like aging cold cuts.

I wondered how ugly a pussy could be and I found out.

One night she brings his rig and we’re finishing early. He’s ready to use the lounge to tie off, boil it in a spoon and slam it in his veins. He’s done his best to abstain during the daytime for the sake of performance. I respect this. He already understands I’m curious and we get along very well.

He starts by telling me he refuses to take responsibility for what will probably happen next. I tell him a big boy and not to worry. I can take care of myself and I own my actions. He prepares brown powder on aluminium foil for me. He hands me a glass tube and lights the foil from underneath with a Zippo.

I chase the dragon.

He goes to the lounge.

It is bliss. I walk the halls of the studio and eat an orange. I drop the peels on the floor. Everything I see is gorgeous. Each step starts like thunder at my toes and ends as pillows in my head. I drive my piece of shit Bug home and sleep like an infant.

I get home by feel. Instinct.

The next night he chops it for me. Razor blades not hard to come by in recording studios. It’s brown, like cinnamon and sugar. I snort it and so does he. He takes me for a walk. Sunset and La Brea. He takes time to point things out, people and situations. I’m higher this time. Everything is so much bigger. Lights and sounds and smells are grandiose.

Hoy’s Wok mixed with Burger King, Wendy’s, a 50’s Diner and a Mexican joint named Acapulco. A gas station, a couple dry cleaners and an El Pollo Loco.

So content. So happy. Inspired by the largesse of a warm and swarming evening.

I would be fine walking with this volatile bastard all night.

I consider pissing myself because it sounds like a pleasant idea in my head.

I understood then. I could never, ever do it again. It is the best drug I’ve ever tried. That was fifteen years ago.

Never did it again.

Another in a long series of brilliant bands that the record company either didn’t get or didn’t have the stones to sign.

See, when you work with a band in a recording studio, you can’t help but become a member of that band to one degree or another. Almost without exception, you become an advocate of their vision. When you make an actual record, if a bond somehow doesn’t form, something is wrong. It is by no means a normal enviroment. At least twelve hours a day, sometimes twenty four. An intensely creative and challenging atmosphere. Often a pressure cooker of conflict over vision, the big picture or the very small.

I was a producer/engineer. I came to know and understand people better in weeks than people who’d known them for years. In different ways for different reasons. The archetype of the dumb musician rarely applied. As a group, they are very bright and intellectually curious. Almost always more politically aware and better informed that the average shopper.

Robert was no exception. Axl Rose was, he was a complete moron. Tina Turner was pure class, elegance and talent. Mel Torme was as cool as a man that age can be. Bono and the band turned out to be very nice people. Annie Lennox endured a ride to her hotel in my shitbox VW Bug. We talked politics while she had a spring up her ass.

Art Alexakis is very difficult to describe. He’s very bright and knows exactly what he’s doing. At the same time he’s volatile, cranky and unpredictable. We definitely had fun but he’s a handful. Excellent songwriter and brilliant lyricist. He may just be a miserable man with a big heart.

I would have been happy to beat C.C. DeVille into a coma.

Chrissie Hynde threw a sausage at my head and I made sure Tom Petersson from Cheap Trick didn’t get the shit beat out of him in a titty bar.

Kenny Aranoff used to get pissed at me for playing his kit at night but Jeff Porcaro (R.I.P.) never said a word. I played just about every kit that came through. Dean Castronova and Terry Bozzio. Jim Keltner, Steve Gadd and Stewart Copeland. Vinnie, Omar and Manu Katché.

Over the years I met, worked with and came to understand some of the most interesting people there are, famous or not. I paid my dues but understood I was lucky. Hindsight tells me just how lucky. For a few years I was A&M’s Demo King. Sometimes a different band everyday. One day it was cellos and woodwinds, the next it was banjos stand up bass and concertinas. Wind up the week with a hardcore punk band.

I want to squeeze my nose with a pair of pliers so that it bursts like a cherry tomato and the pain enters my head in the sweetest and most delicious way.

Seems like it rained more back then.

Always direct the pyroclastic flow towards the ocean.

Drinks for my friends.

Elections Have Consequences
“Elections have consequences.”

George W. Bush

In 2006 Americans in large numbers threw out Republicans from the House of Representatives. Hoping for real change, but stymied by a 51-49 Senate, and an immovable president, the demands of the electorate were not met. With a 6% victory in the general election and a landslide victory in the Electoral College Barack Obama will enter the White House with a mandate from the American people, and the power to do what the electorate has asked him to do.

When it comes to energy, we demanded a change to the status quo. We have spoken and we want a clear path to energy independence. It may not be the way the Republicans wanted, but “Elections have consequences.”

With at least 2 appointments coming up in the Supreme Court, we demanded a change from the types of appointments of the last 8 years, Roberts and Alito. “Elections have consequences.”

The tax laws of the last 8 years have been criticized greatly over the course of the presidential campaign. We demanded a change to the tax code, one that would give breaks to the middle class while dismantling the Bush tax cutes. “Elections have consequences.”

The efforts to deregulate everything over the last three decades have left us with a run away financial market, industries allowed to regulate themselves, with miserable results. Obama enters office with the demand from the American people to fix this first! “Elections have consequences.”

Milton Friedman’s economics are out! “Elections have consequences.”

Pre-emptive war, aka the Bush (Cheney) doctrine, the one percent doctrine, has led to reckless actions around the globe. The American people have spoken. We voted in huge numbers for more direct negotiations with all nations. “Elections have consequences.”

The Neo-Cons will not be welcome in this administration. “Elections have consequences.”

While we will continue to support Israel in all ways, we will no longer turn our backs on the plight of the Palestinian people, or other less fortunate citizens of the world. “Elections have consequences.”

The bottom line is that we live in a society where the masses have a role in our government. We vote, and this time we voted in huge numbers. So, to my friends on the other side of the isle, “Elections have consequences.”

Get over it!

J

I’m just still in awe.

What has happened here is awesome. Forgive me, there is no better word.

I’m so pleased to see America do the right thing. In big ass overwhelming numbers. Historic margins. Dumbya had the retarded sense to declare a mandate after he stole a very close election. Yo Dumbya, check this mandate.

Bitch.

What exactly is up with Biden’s hair? Musta been humid.

Look what we did. Just look at it. They threw a trailer park of kitchen sinks at him and he prevailed with volume and velocity.

Never ever lost his cool. Not once. Flawless run. Every crisis dealt with aplomb. Not a step wrong. Amazing composure and dignity.

He’s just so fucking cool.

I’m pretty sure we don’t have to worry about him getting caught recieving a hummer in The Oval. We will never know. Michelle is pretty smokin.

The arc of history.

We all have limitations and we do well to own them. There is less than one in a million who don’t. Our man is one of those. He’s already shown us that.

He is the literal exception to almost every rule. By name and by face alone, one would imagine he had not a hope in hell. I am so impressed.

He’s our next President, bitch.

I can’t wait.

I’ll tell you why. It’s not his experience or lack thereof. Not his many accomplishments. Not his consistent countenance in the face of adversity.

It is his obvious intelligence and his ordinary life before his rapid acceleration. Despite his ears and the color of his skin, it is his humility.

In my mind, it is the difference between him and every other politician I’ve seen in my life. He’s a good solid man with a beautiful family. He is fierce. This man is not here to fuck around. There will be no Katrina size clusterfucks on Our Man’s watch.

It is astounding to put this man in the same sentence as George W. Bush. The idiot and the savant. Sounds like a pretty good one act play.

The reason I’m so in awe has everything to do with difference between the absolute moron who’s been the titular head of our country and therefore the free world for eight fucking years and the man we elected by absolute storm yesterday.

I kept asking why this was a contest. Turns out it wasn’t

Amazing.

Drinks for my friends.

Nov 6, 2008 12:55 AM
I’m proud of my country for the first time in my life…
I feel like an American for the first time in my life. For the very first time in my life I feel like a part of the fabric that is America.

This bears some explanation. Up to this point in history, America has not kept its promise of liberty and justice for all so when asked to stand and say the pledge, I would sometimes stand but my hands remained at my side and never over my heart during the recitation. Or I would recite it but change the words to: “…with liberty and justice for ‘some.'” If I was feeling especially rebellious I would respectfully decline to even stand up.

Why? Well, being born black I have witnessed and experienced directly and indirectly — racism and sexism so I never felt a part of The United States of America. Not really. I felt no particular loyalty nor even patriotic in regards to this country. The flag was just a piece of colored material to me. Nothing more. I even told my Canadian friends that I may become a refugee and asked if I could sleep on their couch. I enrolled in French classes because at least the French hate everything and everyone equally.

As Kermie said, “It’s not easy being green.” Try black Kermie. Sometimes it’s downright fucked up.

After 9/11, I was equally as horrified, saddened, enraged and heartbroken as my fellow citizens — but when my workplace gave us free lapel pins of the American flag, mine quietly went into my desk drawer. I did not put a flag on my car. I didn’t care if the flag touched the ground and would have wiped my ass with it with no hesitation whatsoever if no toilet paper was available. I remember riding in the car with some co-workers who saw a car with a faded and wind-tattered flag. They both exclaimed, “Hey Buddy! Show some respect! Get a new flag.” What I felt was indifference, apathy and sometimes outright disgust towards my citizenship in the US because it did not include me. I was in it but not of it.

You see, America has been a bitter pill stuck in my throat my whole life. No, I was never a slave but my grandmother’s half-brother was missing several fingers. Fingers that his master chopped off for disobedience. Yes, disobedience. I can’t even imagine getting my dog’s tail docked much less doing this to another human being.

The wealth of this country was built on this free labor system and enforced with terror and brutality and those people never received back pay once slavery was abolished. But they did get more grief and terror in the years to follow. Many black people ended up as tree ornaments in the years to come. They also tried to deny us citizenship! The U.S. Government actually sanctioned this hateful chapter in American history.

Many captured German soldiers were treated FAR better than the black men in uniform fighting for this country during World War II. After living through the 1960’s and seeing everyone who spoke of peace, love and equality murdered — I just could not put my hand over my heart or fly a flag. After knowing of and witnessing the struggle for the simplest of freedoms — all people of color for decades had to go through – my hand would not, could not cover my heart for the pledge because this American didn’t include me. For the Forth of July — when the groomers at Petsmart put red, white and blue bows in my dog’s hair – I had them remove them. Yes, my dispassion, vitriol and lassitude ran deep.

I loved Larry Flynt for using the flag as a diaper during his First Amendment fights. Good ‘ole Larry! When I would hear people say, “This is the greatest country in the world!” I always had to suppress a sarcastic sneer. “For you maybe — but not for me.” There were days that I just didn’t want to be black anymore. I wanted a day off. I just wanted to be a person.

So when I cast my vote in the primary, it was for Hillary. I wanted someone who would positively defeat the Republican candidate. Then when Obama began to pull ahead, I still don’t think I really believed he’d win. I never dreamed that I’d see a black president in The White House in my lifetime. I cast my vote about 2 weeks ago but I refused to watch the returns last night. I wanted to just turn on the TV at 4am and know who the next president was. But at about 8:45pm, I had to take a peak.

No one was more stunned to the point of speechlessness than I when they referred to “President-elect Obama.” I just sat there agog with my mouth wide open – slack-jawed — but my heart was racing. Then my eyes filled with tears. I felt like The Grinch when his heart grows three times its size. Then a feeling COMPLETELY alien to me began to fill my heart…pride in my country!!!!!

Say what? Say what? Say what? Yes…pride. This is now my America…and your America. It’s OUR America. A majority of our voices spoke — and elected a man who happened to be black — for President of the United States of America. America didn’t care that he was black but thought he was most fit to lead this country. We are a family now.

I even pimped out my myspace page with…an American flag theme.

America, FUCK YEAH!!!!!!

I was moved by his candor, his refusal use negative campaign ads, and his message of inclusive rather than exclusive and unity rather than division. I had grown so tired of negative campaign ads, personal attacks, and hitting-below-the-belt politics that I would just hit the mute button on the TV for all commercial time.

I’ve become more and more enlightened and positive over the years and I had high hopes. Our new president-elect now proves that I am a part of The United States of America. Though I have no children, my niece and nephews now know that if they study and work hard, they too can become whatever they want. Before yesterday, there was the mute clause of, “But you can’t be president!” That is gone now. Women, Native-Americans, Asian-Americans, Latino Americans, African-Americans, gay, lesbian and Jewish-Americans can now hold the highest office in the country. This is not a victory for African-Americans but for all Americans period.

We chose a candidate who believes in peace and unity. We voted for renewable energy, stem cell research, lower fuel prices, and to stop global warming. We voted to end the theocracy, idiocy and utter lunacy of the last eight years. We voted for separation of church and state. We voted that science should be taught in science class and not Intelligent Design. What the fuck is that anyway? Sounds like an oxymoron. It belongs in church, not science class. We voted for gay rights and women’s rights.

I just couldn’t be more proud of my country for the first time in my entire life!

Well, this morning I couldn’t find ENOUGH red, white and blue to wear. When I spoke to my father last night he said he was going to purchase his first American flag. I rummaged through my desk drawer but all I could find was my red, white and blue liberty bell pin so I put that on too.

One of my Republican friends said, “George W. Bush fucked it up so bad for the Republicans that American would have elected a grapefruit rather than another Republican!” Yeah…maybe so. Or maybe the pickin’ were better… stronger…faster than the last two times.

My only disappointment was the fact that Proposition 8 passed. But I was damned proud of Samuel L. Jackson for his commercial against it. But maybe our new President can do something on the federal level. I sure hope so!

Hope. Such a lovely word.

I feel so much hope for our country.

America, FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Say baby, do you wanna lay down with me?
Say baby, do you wanna lay down by my side?
Baby, do you wanna lay down with me?
Say baby
Say baby

Say baby, do you wanna lay down with me?
Say baby, do you wanna lay down by my side?
Baby, do you wanna lay down with me?
Say baby
Say baby” -Primus

The day is upon us.

You woke this morning and by days end, the world will be different.

Regardless of the result, history will happen to us all.

I’m just trying to get some pot so I can watch the returns in SENSURROUND.

I can’t help it. I’m all aflutter. Veklempt even.

It goes without saying that if you don’t vote today, I’ll come down your chimney and stab you in the eye with a rusty fork.

If you’re a good Democrat, a responsible progressive or an honest liberal and you somehow manage to avoid the polls today, I will blind you with my fork and turn that fork on your car. Your rootbeer colored Ford. If I have time and enough mud, I’ll crap at your main entrance. I will leave a pile or nothing at all.

If you’re a dipshit conservative mindless Republican, I’ll be by tomorrow with muffins and juice. After all, that’s your day to vote because you’re so goddamn special and elite. Yes, just avoid November Four, the day my rent becomes delinquent. You’re a member of the ruling class. Who would deny someone of your stature a little next day action? No lines. No hassle.

Just sit this one out. Seriously. You’re not needed here. Not this time. We’re fine without you. You’re covered. No one will know. Don’t risk the hair on your knuckles.

My apologies. I had every intention to impart a sober and thoughtful message.

Finnegan begin again.

***CNN has just projected Barack Hussein Obama as the next President of The United States***

Salty water spills down my face and over my shit eating grin.

What we have here is a successful communication. The real deal. A man who’s intentions are good. Strong and confident. Steady. Calm. Intelligent. Resolute.

What we have here is a lanslide. A majority, an aggregate of Americans have spoken with a very clear voice. Resounding. Overwhelming. A mandate. We are saying we’ve had enough. Finally. En Masse. Finally.

I honestly don’t know what to say. Yep, the polls have been going our way, but it was such a long shot for so long. I’ve confessed before that I didn’t think he stood a snowball’s chance in a weapons foundry. Until this year, I had no reason to think I was wrong.

He just kept coming.

Then he impressed us. Over and over.

Instead of a mea culpa over Reverend Wright, we received a most sensitive and scholarly treatise ever afforded a national audience on the subject of race. Delivered by a man half black, in a way that compelled every thinking man to think.

It’s not that I didn’t like him. I just didn’t think he had a chance and I was overly protective of my political sensitivities. I can be fragile you know.

I was afraid America would come to covet a blowtorch after the seas we’ve been forced to sail. A firebrand blowhard capable of nothing but recklessness.

True to form, we flirted with disaster. A cranky old man on the verge of dementia and a woman so ill prepared as to force prominent stalwarts of her own party to flee braying nonsense with fear and confusion in their eyes.

Could the blackhats possibly have fucked this up any worse?

Nope.

It’s Comedy.

Comedy is not pretty.

Good comedy is always ugly. Always. Always funny as fuck though.

The eve of hope. Not merely hope, but anticipation. We now expect and have the right to anticipate change. A change in the way the world sees us. With luck, a change in the way we see ourselves. Not red or blue. Not clinging to one ideology while in disgust of another. A collective of independent Americans with a common concern for the welfare of us all.

“We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, ensure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

Fucking A.

A triumph over racism, bigotry and ignorance. Arms wide open. Instead of a step, how about a running jump? Perhaps a little too awesome?

We need to make it an aspect of our culture that he who would harbor unfounded bias be ashamed and shunned. This, so the rest of us can get on with it.

America will never be one. Not one thing. Not one idea. Not one people.

Having said that, it’s not so exclusive for us to move in concert. Tonight is proof. There is a considerable chasm between nationalism and patriotism. We have moved together to refute the bullshit visited upon us for the last eight years. The American people are done with this shit. THIS SHIT. Is over.

The numbers are formididable. Decisive. Impressive.

It is time for patriotism. It is one thing to vote for the man. It’s entirely another to stand behind him. Time to get on your feet people. The worst is yet to come and resting on your knees won’t do.

There will be a Democratic House and a Democratic Senate. There will be a Democratic President. The window to turn things around opened today. It could close in a mere two years if we’re not careful. Understand, this victory only guarantees a seat at the table. We will be allowed to play. We will have some juice. That is all.

We must play well and with purpose. Change will commence once we’ve held our own for a few seasons.

I’m rambling. What I’m trying to tell you is that nothing ends today. Everything starts. Now is the best time to be not an individual, but an American. It begins today.

“Ill walk right out into a brand new day
Insane and rising in my own weird way
I dont want to be the bad guy

I dont want to do your sleepwalk dance anymore
I just want to feel some sunshine
I just want to find some place to be alone” -Everclear

What has happened here is the best man won.
Yes, he’s black.
He didn’t win because he’s black.
He won despite being black.

He kept the color of his skin from being an isssue by making it about the content of his character.

Here’s the deal. He’s so fucking cool.

Drinks for my friends.

Oct 29, 2008 1:58 AM
An Open Letter to the CEO of Citigroup
In 1994 I had the opportunity to have dinner one-on-one with the current CEO of Citigroup, Vikram Pandit. At the time I was employed as a trader in the Japanese equity derivatives department at Morgan Stanley, which Mr. Pandit oversaw. He struck me as a decent, thoughtful, ego-free person. Given that he is now a central player in crafting the changes that are occurring in the financial markets, I wanted to share my thoughts with him on the proposed reforms. It is my belief that all of the measures currently under consideration miss the most important aspect of the overall picture — i.e. the role of money. It is my hope that someone in a position like Mr. Pandit’s might promote the argument that the reforms currently under consideration are inadequate and that if we fail to address the fundamental problems with money itself we will at best accomplish a temporary fix for our problems.

Following is the text of the letter:

Oct. 29, 2008

Dear Vikram,

I know that your time these days is subject to intense demands, so I don’t expect that you will necessarily have the time to read (much less respond to) this letter. That being said, I have spent a good deal of time over the past several years thinking about issues of monetary economics, and I have some thoughts which are relevant to the current crisis.

As I watch the unfolding drama of the attempt to save the financial system, I can’t help but despair that all of the proposed reforms ignore the most fundamental cause of our problems. We can (and should) update our regulatory framework, improve transparency, etc., but unless we address the heart of the matter – i.e. the nature of money itself – we will only be instituting a temporary fix for a perpetual problem. It will always be the case that in the aftermath of a crisis there is outcry for reform and regulation, but as the memory of a crisis recedes, the pursuit of profit inevitably overwhelms the abilities and resources of the regulators. New abuses arise which eventually lead to the next crisis.

Since I recall that you were an economics professor before you became a banker, I wonder if you are familiar with the work of Silvio Gesell. Gesell was a German monetary theorist from the first part of the 20th century. His ideas largely fell into obscurity due to the fact that he was on the losing side of two world wars, but Keynes was a great admirer of his work (which is how I became acquainted with it). Keynes believed Gesell’s thinking on the subject of money to be unsurpassed and famously predicted, “the future will learn more from the spirit of Gesell than from that of Marx.”

In brief, I would summarize Gesell’s thinking as follows. Traditional money is a fundamentally flawed tool for accomplishing the purposes for which it is intended. More precisely, of the two purposes for which it is intended – i.e. as a medium of exchange and a store of value – only the former is proper and appropriate. By trying to accomplish both, we are asking the impossible, since the two are not fully compatible, and when they work at cross purposes the results can be extremely harmful. He argues that by asking money to serve also as a store of value, we end up with a fatally flawed medium of exchange.

In more concrete terms, Gesell starts from the most basic proposition of economics – i.e. that commerce operates as a result of the interaction of supply and demand. He then observes that, while real goods are subject to a natural “penalty to hoarding” (i.e. storage costs, decay, etc.) and are therefore compelled to be offered for sale regardless of whether the producer incurs a profit or loss, money is subject to no such compulsion. (Incidentally, I noticed today that the top financial headline is about the White House urging banks to stop hoarding money. Well, of course they’re hoarding money; it is the only logical thing to do under these conditions.)

Money is therefore able to exact a “tribute” (i.e. interest) for its services and will withdraw if this tribute is not assured. This is why deflation is the greatest nightmare of the financial authorities. In a deflationary environment money withdraws, and monetary policy is powerless to compel its circulation. In Gesell’s words:

“The present form of money acts as intermediary for the exchange of wares only on condition that it receives a tribute… No tribute, no exchange… This profit has nothing in common with the merchant’s profit; it is a separate effect produced by money itself, a tribute which money is able to extract because, unlike all other wares, it is free from the material compulsion of being offered for sale… Without this tribute, money will not be offered in exchange, and without money to effect exchanges no wares will reach their destination. If, for any reason, money cannot exact its accustomed tribute, there is a crisis; wares lie where they are and rot… If we now consider the conditions upon which money offers its services as medium of exchange, we see that commerce is mathematically impossible with falling prices.”

It is this property of traditional money that is largely responsible for the seemingly inevitable crises that plague modern capitalism. This is what is at the root of the dilemma facing the Fed right now. We are in a classic Keynesian “liquidity trap”, and the Fed is “pushing on a string” in an effort to stimulate the economy. They can print as much money as they want and lower interest rates to zero, but as long as people anticipate further price declines and don’t perceive solid investment opportunities, they will not spend or invest. However, if money was subject to the same “penalty to hoarding” that applies to real goods, it would not systematically withdraw during times of instability. And to repeat, it is precisely because money is designed to be a store of value that this problem occurs.

Gesell proposes reconstituting money in such a way that it intentionally loses value over time according to a predetermined schedule of depreciation. This would create a disincentive to hoarding, promote freer and more reliable circulation of money, and reduce the likelihood of a liquidity trap. Even in times of economic uncertainty, holders of money would be faced with an incentive to “use it or lose it”. Furthermore, such a monetary medium would likely achieve a much higher “velocity”, which would lead to a more vibrant and robust economy and a more equitable distribution of wealth.

Of course, I realize that what Gesell suggests is nothing short of revolutionary. Such a change would alter every aspect of our economic and political landscape. As such, the points in history at which it would be politically feasible to attempt such a change are extremely rare. Only a painful crisis is capable of awakening the public to the importance of our monetary arrangements, and if we attempt to deal with the current crisis while leaving the most important part of the puzzle untouched, we will be missing out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a change that could solve our existing problems and prevent their recurrence.

Of course, I understand that your main concern these days is ensuring the survival of Citigroup, and an issue like monetary reform may be beyond your purview. I also realize that as the CEO of a bank, such a fundamental change in the nature of money would be threatening to your business model. On the other hand, I believe that banks which embrace a new-and-improved monetary medium would prosper at the expense of those who resist the change. For someone in your position, I would think the prospect of being able to put your company on the cutting edge of a new era in finance while simultaneously contributing to the well-being of mankind would represent an exciting and compelling opportunity.

In any case, Vikram, I wish you wisdom and luck in this monumentally challenging time. I don’t know if these thoughts might be of any use to you, but I figured that, at the very least, they would represent a different perspective. In the unlikely event that you find yourself with a few minutes to spare, I would love to hear you thoughts on all of this.

Warm regards,

Josh Sidman

Nov 2, 2008 6:59 PM
The Last Gasps of the Conservative Era
On McCain and Palin calling Obama a Socialist:

“Well, for me, it’s just an exciting moment to be alive, when you see that kind of desperation.

…

It’s the last gasps of the conservative era, where the economics of greed, the culture of indifference and the politics of fear, have been brought together in such a way that it hides and conceals the plight of poor working people.

Look at what they said about Martin Luther King, COMMUNIST. Jesus loved the poor, COMMUNIST. Amos, loved the poor, COMMUNIST.

So, in that sense it’s an exciting thing to behold, but we are in a transitional moment. The real question is can we generate a commitment to fairness and justice in the face of greed, can we generate compassion in the face of indifference, and can we generate hope in the face of fear. That is what Brother Barack is all about.

…

We don’t need another Clinton, we need a Lincoln. We don’t need a master politician, we need a statesman.

…

The reason why this is the last gasp is this is the dogma of unregulated markets running into a stone wall, and you can see this led to catastrophe, and they are holding onto the dogma for dear life.”

Dr. Cornel West

I have noticed that in addition to the “Socialist” line, there is an under tow of abortion creeping into the discussion. I want to throw this out there. I did a little research about Roe v Wade, and this is what I found. Republicans have fooled everyone about abortion.

Roe v. Wade happened in 1973. Who was president? Nixon, a Republican. Since 1973, 35 years, we have had a Republican president for 23 of those years, and in the last 8 years the Republicans held power in the white house and both houses of congress several of those years. John McCain has been in congress 26 of those years too.

You might say, J, it is a supreme court issue. Ok:

All current justices of the supreme court have been put on the court since Roe, all 9. 7 were put on the court by Republicans. 7 out of 9, that is a pretty big majority, so why has Roe not been over turned yet? If Roe is bad law, why is it still law?

As for McCain, how many times has John McCain tried to change Roe? NONE! How many times have the Republicans tried to change Roe? NONE!

BTW, this is McCain on Roe:

On August 25, 1999, the San Francisco Chronicle reported that McCain had told its editorial board:

“I’d love to see a point where it is irrelevant and could be repealed because abortion is no longer necessary. … But certainly in the short term, or even the long term, I would not support repeal of Roe vs. Wade, which would then force X number of women in America to (undergo) illegal and dangerous operations.”

The Chronicle added:

But on Sunday [August 22, 1999], in an interview with CNN’s Wolf Blitzer, McCain said he favors the ultimate repeal of Roe vs. Wade, “but we all know, and it’s obvious, that if we repeal Roe vs. Wade tomorrow, thousands of young American women would be (undergoing) illegal and dangerous operations.”

Some may not like Obama’s stand on Roe, but he is at least honest. He doesn’t try to lie to you, tell you he supports something that he does not want to change. He refuses to push his morals on Americans.

Instead he would rather work to help the needy to bring down the number of abortions (which have gone up under Bush, as have teen pregnancies), and to help the youth of America with health care. You know like the S-CHIP, the program that provides health care for millions of American children, the one that McCain and Bush opposed. How Christian of them.

BTW, America’s stand in the world on infant mortality has gotten worse under Bush. We are 29th in the world. So, if you can’t stop abortion, don’t you think that the least we could do is raise the level of health care to that of the rest of the world so that our babies don’t die???

Just remember, Barack Obama went to Trinity United Church of Christ for 20 years which to some prove he is a Muslim, and John McCain doesn’t go to church, which to some proves he is a Christian…

(Big ups to Bill Maher Friday tonight)

Are you ready to Vote???

J

Here we are. Judgement day less than one hundred hours away.

Show me a vampire and I’ll show you a Republican. Such singleminded avarice does not exist in mere mortals. Show me a lockstep conservative and I’ll show you a nearly brain dead zombie. Such singleminded lust for flesh only exists in the undead.

John McCain is Frankenstein’s Monster. Far less than the sum of his parts and dangerously insane.

Show me an indefatigable, unflappable, charismatic black man and I’ll show you a liberal Democrat. There are no black vampires, except maybe Blackula. There’s very few black zombies. With zombies, you can tell by looking.

Happy Halloween.

By the way, Black Republicans must be as close to stupid as Gay Republicans.

Are you aware that almost a quarter of the good folks in Texas believe Our Man to be a Muslim? Like there’s anything more unsavory about that religion than the next. Fucking rednecks.

It’s embarrassing.

If you think Barack Obama is a Muslim, it’s because you’re looking for a reason to fear him. It is willfull ignorance and it’s among the ugliest of American proclivities. Guess what else it is? It’s straight up, no apologies, racist. Tragic and shameful.

What I’m trying to do here is make the point that, were it not for the color of his skin, Barack Obama would be escorting McCain to a toilet after an enema right about now and then tucking him in. Once the elder statesman begins to snore, Our Man would slip off to contemplate his cabinet. He’s that kind of guy and Doubtfire has consumed copious amounts of carcinogens on the trail. He’s glowing.

No worries, he’s not going to explode.

Actually, he’ll melt. There will be a godawfull smell. The stain will be solvent-proof. Greasy, like charred opossum.

A horrible mess, but it will manageable as long as we can get him outside before he starts to sizzle. Away from dense foliage and wooden structures. Get the hoses ready. Call 911. Wear a cup. Maybe a helmet and eye protection.

The actual location will need to be incinerated for public safety.

The other point I need to make is that there will indeed be a deadfall. A biohazard. The great unwashed will not go quietly. Many of them will not go at all. People have lifetimes, generations, invested in this pervasive, insidious belief system. They cling to the religious components of it as a way to legitimize and justify their bigotry and narrowmindedness.

It’s goddamn frustrating because they hide behind it and we athiests and agnostics can’t go there. They will label us Godless and no one one will hear us out.

Bastards.

Conservatives, neocons and religious zealots have no love for America. They don’t give a mad fuck. They love themselves and they count on being romanced by the more persuasive among them. Hook line and sinker, these fools wait for orders and start marching as soon as they receive the message.

They disdain thinking for themselves. They’ve come to depend on being told what to do. How to act. What to think.

What should be antithetical, has instead become gospel.

How do they do that? It’s not like they’re all under the same roof. It’s cult behavior on an impossibly massive scale.

One more season of this witch and we’re toast.

Happy Halloween.

Vote you fucks.

Pimp this blog. Spread it. Cut and paste it. Cop a link. Just get it out there. What song are you hoping to hear next Wednesday morning?

“Here we come, walkin’
Down the street.
We get the funniest looks from
Ev’ry one we meet.
Hey, hey, we’re the Monkees
And people say we monkey around.
But we’re too busy singing
To put anybody down.” -Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart

Drinks for my friends.

I honestly don’t doubt McCain’s intentions. He may very well be stupid but I don’t believe he’s evil. Old, under informed, out of touch, but not a bad man. He’s recklessly diluted himself and tragically compromised what could have been a sterling legacy.

I don’t really care. It’s not my area.

That’s my preface.

Obama will prevail because his ideas are exceptional. I like just about everything he proposes while understanding he can’t possibly realize half of it.

What he will do, I hope, is his best. Forgive me for not being dumb.

McCain is. He’s actually stupid. Clueless and out of touch. It is age multiplied by trauma and a perilous degree of emasculation by Cindy the yellowcake powered Stepford fembot. She’s fucking creepy. Don’t look at her eyes. Not even on TV. Your genitals will cook from the inside out.

Then there’s Palin. She too, is really dumb. She can’t pronounce the word nuclear. I can’t help but take exception to that. Eight years of mispronunciation and chronic malapropisms have taken a toll on me. Insult to injury is that Dumbya just plain says a lot of really dumb shit. My ass is literally chapped.

I hear Joe The Plumber was a no show today. Now that’s funny. How sad that he’s become the symbol for Republican integrity and know how. Bonafide go-to-guy. Eclipsing the Clown Princess in the twenty four hour news cycle. He’s their shining example. He’s an opportunistic idiot.

I hear Obama’s infomercial drew big numbers last night. Thirty three million. More than twice the average for a World Series game.

I’ve noticed that lately, when I blow bad air, it smells like McCain Palin. It sounds like them too.

I can’t wait for this thing to find it’s end. I’m more than anxious for it to be over. It’s killing me. The sheer volume of idiocy has been staggering. Five more days until we discover the waterline for dumbass.

Let’s hope it’s low.

There’s at least fifty million of them.

Mouth breathing dipshits walking in malls, attending gun shows and livestock events. Sometimes they drive green and/or orange cars festooned with Jesus stickers. A disproportionate number of hatchbacks, vans, smaller pickups, brown Pintos and Mavericks. Not all of these people are retarded but some are.

Many appear completely normal.

We all have more than casual affection for Metal.

There is of course, the other stratum of the Republican party. The Warlords. Marionette masters. The rich and the filthy rich. They keep getting richer and filthier. They push Faith on the downtrodden. The filthy understand it distracts them from the rape they are receiving and gives them something to believe in. The filthy own that the stupid are just that.

On this, the filthy are not mistaken.

They are despicable. While their country, their own people, sled into despair and destitution, Exxon Mobile reports the biggest quarterly profit in the history of the world while they collect subsidies right out of your fucking pocket.

That’s blatant assplay.

Until lately, that facet of the GOP was the problem.

Here’s the good news. The old money arrogant are having lunches of sardines marinated in Woolite forced down their necks with fists and mops by men and women like you and me. The rich fat fucks are on the ground and we are kicking them in the gut.

Their money doesn’t seem to be any good here. Beaten severely at their own game. Four to one. That’s rich. Pun intended.

Pricks.

Fuckin A.

See, that’s why it’s important. This guy is new and he has the goods. Have you ever seen him rattled? Nope. Think the powers that be thought this guy had a chance even six months ago? Nope. What we have here is a phenomena surpassing that of William Jefferson Clinton. I’m not kidding.

Big Bad Bill got in because Perot split the vote. Our Man is doing it without a natural disaster.

Look at me. In the eyes of America, he’s black. His last name rhymes with Osama and his middle name is Hussein. That’s what I said two years ago. I liked him but thought pigs would launch from my butt before he could be a contender. Much less capture the nomination. I was way wrong.

He kicked the ass of the Clinton Juggernaut. Very impressive. Much respect.

He just keeps coming. Man this guy is smart. The epitome of cool.

Again, ever seen him rattled?

Lemonade.

Drinks for my friends.

Tired of this shit.

Joe the fucking plumber.

That they foist such a clueless asshole on us thinking he will somehow convince the great unwashed, by virtue of being an ignorant member thereof, is maybe more of an insult to them and us than the selection of Moosewoman for VP.

Sheezus.

Joe The Plumber.

Seriously, in the past few days, this dipshit has hired a publicist, begun to negotiate both a book and a country record deal and announced he’s considering a run for Congress. That this man, who’s name is not Joe, no plans to buy a business he claims falsely is worth a quarter million annually and he’s not even a goddamn plumber, could somehow matter to the electorate disgusts me.

He’s an idiot. I would love to debate this guy.

My father would tell you this guy doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.

The Republicans have a sweaty fist full of candy and that’s it.

Kids in a candy store without adult supervision.

Today, the would be Clown Princess, took a pathetic swing at Our Man with the revelation that Obama is allied with some guy named Rashid Khalidi.

Fuck off. They just don’t get this.

Khalidi said Wednesday, “I am not speaking to the media at this time, and certainly not until this idiot wind passes.” -CNN

Asked why the McCain campaign was bringing the matter up six months after the article appeared, an aide replied, “Because we are one week away from potentially electing Barack Obama.” -CNN

Such obfuscation is certainly not in the spirit of change.

“I don’t know what’s next. By the end of the week, he’ll be accusing me of being a secret communist because I shared my toys in kindergarten. I shared my peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Obama said. -CNN

It’s bullshit. I cover my eyes and hope to find the time and place for a nap. Or a bowl of pasta. Raisin Bran Total. Grits with lotsa butter and pepper.

This brings us to Our Man’s “infomercial”. Audacious? Maybe, maybe not. Let me just observe though, that it was golden. Not about him so much as the message was about us. For the umpteenth time I was reminded of the power and subtlety in this man’s possession . Adroit intelligence, a nimble mind and an obvious compassion that extends to all of us. Not just Americans. It was actually pretty cool.

McFuckstain shows up on Larry King still pissing and moaning about how much money Obama has, where he got it and that he wouldn’t participate in Doubtfire’s favored architecture of town hall meetings. Dude, he kicked your pasty ass is in fundraising. Get over it. See, the Republicans hate this because they’re more than used to being the party with overwhelming amounts of money. They haven’t lost the battle for filthy lucre in decades and that is the impetus for their pathetic.

Goddamn they’re sore losers.

You suck! Shut the fuck up!

It is the calmness, the composure and the confidence exuded by Our Man, his surrogates and even his wife that I find so impressive. This guy is smart and he knows it. He owns that he’s twice as smart as the opposition and he doesn’t gloat. He just keeps coming.

They lie, distort and twist. He smiles, tells the truth and takes another step forward. He doesn’t blink. He’s fearless. He knows exactly what he’s doing. They throw a bowl of spaghetti at the wall as an experiment to see what sticks. A small amount of noodles and sauce ends up on his suit. He brushes it off, wipes his hands with a napkin and keeps coming.

He casually sips lemonade from an icy glass, wipes his lips with the back of his hand and takes a seat behind the desk in an office called Oval.

Drinks for my friends.

Been here. Done this, but we need to talk about it.

Proposition 8 seeks to amend the state constitution so as to make same sex marriage unconstitutional.

Two words. Fuck that shit.

I’m gonna pontificate upon something I don’t consider to be a theory, an opinion or even a point of view. I see it as fact.

My entire dianoetic is predicated on the truth that sexual preference, gender notwithstanding, is inherent, congenital. I believe we’re born with it.

Calculus then becomes simple arithmetic. It is nothing less than an issue of civil rights. All men (people) are created equal. It’s what we are taught to embrace as basic truth. Inalienable rights.

It is indeed racism.

All sorts of fundaments apply. Do unto others, content of character, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, freedom from religious persecution, judge not lest ye be judged.

See, gay people aren’t bad people. There’s nothing wrong with them at all. They’re merely different. No more or less different than anyone else. Cut them and they bleed. Some like carrots. Some don’t. Some are dumb but statistically, more are smart.

Religious zealots and right wing idealogues would have us believe a plethora of outlandish things about gay people. They will protest on behalf of the heretofore sacred institution of marriage being exclusively intended as union between a man and woman.

1) The Gays encourage the extinction of the nuclear family.
Do the math. It’s not the homosexuals that are tearing away at that mythological “kernel” or “nut”. Market forces and the empowerment of women, you betcha.

2) The Gays are commie pinko sissies or big dykes that can kick my ass.
It’s true. I can’t help you here. They’re all so two dimensional. Nothing but caricatures really. All stereotypes apply.

Beyond the argument that marriage exists as the exclusive provenance of heterosexuals, they’ve got nothing.

Let’s examine this hallowed sacrament. Until the early part of the last century, a woman became a man’s property in the instance of marriage. Less than sixty years ago, certain races were not permitted by law to marry certain other races. The divorce rate in America consistently hovers above fifty percent. Now that’s a successful institution worthy of our profound deference and protection from any brand of dirty homo love.

It cracks me the fuck up when I hear people say shit like, “some of my best friends are……….fill in the blank.” Like they’re automatically imparted with some deep understanding of people who are routinely discriminated against for something over which they have no control.

Submitted for your approval, the sagas of Larry Craig or Mark Foley. What the hell, how about Richard Simmons or even Liberace? Rock Hudson anyone? From denial to repression. Sad.

Sad, because they’ve existed in a culture that would put up for popular vote, the power for them to be legally discriminated against. Even here in California, the most liberal state in the union, and home to the beloved Ninth Circuit, enough bigots gave enough of a shit to get it on the ballot.

Who cares and why? What are they so afraid of?

There it is. It’s fear isn’t it? Do you doubt that? It’s hard to understand because I’m not threatened. But I see it in the eyes of Americans. They glaze over when they’re afraid. All senses roll up and the sidewalk disappears. Nothing gets in or out.

Ever seen a caterpillar ball up?

What are they so afraid of?

Fuck me.

Drinks for my friends, dykes, sissies, faggots, lezbos…………….

A little levity to get us started. Salt to taste.

What’s black and white and red all over and has trouble getting through revolving doors? McFuckstain dressed as a penguin with a spear through his head, or Moosewoman, harpooned, but dressed as a nun.

No worries, they probably know about me.

Colbert has Yo Yo Ma tonight. Wasn’t but a month or so ago he had Rush. A few weeks ago, James Taylor and last week, Wynton Marsalis. Colbert doth flirt with the boundaries of cool.

The Yo Yo Ma performance inspired me to imagine a meat tenderizing hammer or a small cheese grader against my taint. I guess they played well but there wasn’t a balanced distribution of wealth. I mean frequencies. It was shrill. The interview was good though.

Ok. Onto it.

News reports say Palin is going “rogue”.

Internecine drama. Cocky up in here. Doesn’t like the way she’s been “handled”. Unhappy about her (National) rollout, Doubtfire aides quoted calling her a “diva”. This is rich. Proof in my mind of her inability to function in almost any enviroment that includes gravity. She sucks. She’s stoopid. Doesn’t get it at all.

Give her a show.

McCain’s aged ineptitude is now neon. Pyroclastic. Cool word. Poor judgement. Rash stupidity. Pandering and intellectual dishonesty. Unmindful patronizing of you and I. Adult Diapers.

The entire Republican party is a ship of fools. Consider who’s been jettisoned. It’s a list. DeLay, Frist, Santorum, Rumsfeld, Rove, Gonzales, Abramoff, Whitman, McClellan, Card, Fleischer, Ashcroft, Bremer, Brown, Libby and Powell. Just getting started………

Paul O’Neill, Franks, Richard Clark, Whitman, Foley, Larry Craig, Tenet……….

A promenade of pimps, punks, pedophiles, perverts and pirates. Sheezus, fuck me, there ought to be a law.

Snap!

Just today, Ted Stevens, slime festooned Senior Senator from Alaska (it’s a country full of rednecks way up north and a little to the west), was handed his horribly disfigured ass in a greasy paper sack with a side of leaking coleslaw and cold fries. That’s right, he was convicted on seven counts of felony corruption. Longest serving Senator in history. Prick.

Our Man drew over one hundred thousand supporters yesterday in Colorado. Five times the population of my hometown when I started school. I believe his largest domestic crowd so far. He’s on fire.

Doubtfire counted three thousand just three days ago in the very same city.

Still, it’s a contest. It is in their very best interest to keep it interesting.

There is no longer any doubt in my mind we are looking at the next President of the United States of America. My fate and yours is now inextricably linked to Barack Hussein Obama, Joe Biden, Harry Reid and the infamous Nancy Pelosi.

It’s a package deal kids, and not without expensive luggage.

With the exception of the inevitable egregious fuckery and malfeasance, which will occur on one level or another, the only thing standing in our way is ourselves. It is up to us. Entirely.

If the worst should happen, if there should be an attempt on justice a third time, well then, we should be prepared to take to the streets. They need to own that we will rise up. The third time is indeed the charm. There will be no theft. The people will decide. One way or The other.

Were it to happen, look for a movement of actual people similiar in size and strength to the inverse of current financial woes as compared to the S&L crisis of the late eighties. Sorry. In other words, tenfold. People are pissed. America’s malaise has grown on that scale for almost eight years now, any pushback will be at least as formidable. Both parties will participate.

“Fair warning Lord, don’t strike that poor boy down” -DLR

I honestly don’t anticipate such a scenario, but I’m quite prepared to go from outspoken to full blown activist. There are millions and millions ready to bust the same move. The broken Republican machine has not a prayer, not a hope in hell. You all know the trouble I’ve seen.

Step aside. Our Man is winning in unlikely states and enjoying a contest in others that haven’t considered a Democrat in decades.

Common citizens on the verge of prevailing. Joe the Plumber my ass. I think I saw an ignorant redneck.

Reality has a liberal bias. Liberals have a reality bias. There’s a healthy amount of gorgeous symmetry, given the context of American history, that a man half African and half Caucasian, is ripe to be our next President and the next leader of the free world.

There will be optimism again.

Actually, a man who will excite a sigh of relief from the world and arouse a sense of hope, even in people who hate us. Even in people who hate us.

Letterman’s got Bill O’Reilly, so I gotta wrap this up. Vote. Unless you’re stupid. Tell the boss you gotta vote and just go to Starbucks or Taco Bell or whatever if you haven’t been paying attention. Don’t shit in the river you fool.

Brainspank sees odds as nine to one for Barack Hussein Obama.

Drinks for my friends.