Eat it and smile

I can’t help it. I’ve done it before and I’m sure I’ll do it again. Like millions before and millions hence. So forgive me. Donald Trump is the biggest asshole to ever run for president of this country by a fucking mile. He is a stain on American dignity. An indictment of our ignorance and cruel stupidity.  This one piece of lamentable shit has managed to expose our most profound moral and ethical shortcomings so completely that I have never been more embarrassed to be an American.

If this man gets elected, we deserve it.  Because it will be our own consequence of laziness and apathy and complacency.  A low brow campaign of distraction and obfuscation.  Because we are rubes.  Suckers.  And it will mean that our only hope for salvation by wisdom is even more abject suffering.  It will be a sign that we require further self abuse to learn our lesson.

It will mean we asked for it.

And this is exactly why Brainspank officially endorses Bernard Sanders for president of the United States of America.  Because he is our last chance at embarrassing these idiots.  Our last chance at shutting them the fuck up.  I believe he is our last hope at extinguishing the rampant and chronic fuckery that has infected us as a country and a people.

Yup, alert the media.

This is big.

Because Hillary Clinton is basically an opportunist.

She is full of shit.

She is on record speaking glowingly of the TPP and Keystone XL before she stuck her finger in the wind.  Among the most disingenuous things she’s opined is that somehow as secretary of state, she had no knowledge of either one in any way so only now has she made up her mind.  She is lying.

She won’t commit to expanding medicare, medicaid and Social Security.  She won’t in fact commit to not weakening them.  She won’t commit to a $15 an hour minimum wage.  She has earned millions of dollars in speaking fees and collected millions more from the very institutions that flirted with the financial demise of the millions of people in this country who actually work for a living.  She is committed to allowing them another chance at the table.  I don’t care who you are or what you think you know, she absolutely has their backs.  And just recently, the last straw for me, she criticized Sanders for his support of the notion that we deserve single payer health coverage as a right, not a privilege.  It’s our money, it’s not goddamn  free and we deserve to have our money spent on our well being as opposed to our money spent on multiple ridiculous wars that enrich the rich even further.

Bernie Sanders is the only candidate that even talks about this.  Our money.

I will admit this, I will vote for her if she gets the nomination, because she is as Sanders said, better on her worst day than any of these goofecock republicans.  Because it will then be about nominations to the supreme court.  Corporate democrats will punch you in the back of the head just as hard as republicans over sparing the filthy rich but they have a soft spot when it comes to social imperatives.

I won’t be capitulating.

If this woman gets elected, we deserve it.  Because it will be our own consequence of laziness and apathy and complacency. A low brow campaign of distraction and obfuscation.  Because we are rubes.  Suckers.  And it will mean that our only hope for salvation by wisdom is even more abject suffering.  It will be a sign that we require further self abuse to learn our lesson.

It will mean we asked for it.

We have one shot at this.

Go Bernie go.

Drinks for my friends.


I could not be more thoroughly disgusted that we live in a world where things like this occur.

I am all but hollowed out by the empty headed reactions to it.

France begins by stepping up their bombing in Syria with fierce and ignorant determination.  The Russian bear is doing the same. Here in the homeland, we’re all fired up jingoistic. Our rednecks are beside themselves with xenophobic lust even though the only word they recognize that starts with “x” is “xmas”.  Our neocons are masturbating in public. Some asshole on cable news just now said Saudi Arabia is cool because they have never attacked us.

Instead of admitting we made this mess, we insist on pursuing the same obtuse path, the same binary policies that led directly and predictably to this minor horror.

Yup,  A minor horror.

Spare the sentimentalism, it really is awful.

I get that.

We’re doing big picture here.

A minor horror in the scheme of things.  Merely awful compared to the horrific shit we pull over there. We kill these fuckers wholesale.  Everyday.  All the time. All day long. We don’t care. We see them as cockroaches. And they are sick and fucking tired of us wading in with overwhelming military force, obscene wealth and ginormous resources, only to make things exponentially worse.  We are the architects of their hell.

They have every reason to fucking hate us and we show no sign of giving up stepping on our dicks anytime soon.

I am loath to be the bearer of the obvious, but all these tragedies are of our own device.  Well, to be fair, it’s us and all the oligarchies, plutocracies and theocracies we call allies.  Our coalition.

Understand that our lethally modern military is about as useful as a machine gun against a nest of hornets.  We didn’t defeat The Soviet Union, they did.  We have way more money by virtue of raping our middle class, but the more we turn our machines of modern warfare on them, the more they will visit destruction on innocents.

They don’t have a goddamn army and it’s their biggest advantage.

They don’t hate us for our goddamn freedoms. They hate us because we refuse to stay the fuck out of their lives. They cheer us on as it blows up in our faces. We create the petri dish for recruitment and chaos.  Clumsy giants. Clueless oafs with aircraft carriers in a theater where it just doesn’t matter. At all. We are being lured into boots on the ground. We can make blast craters every hundred yards in the entire Middle East and they will laugh at us.  It’s not like that’s never happened  before.

We have but three choices if we genuinely want to prevail.  Stop utilizing fossile fuels tomorrow, turn all the sand into glass or leave.  I’m not kidding.  We’re not going to abandon the absurdly archaic and obsolete monopoly of petroleum anytime soon.  So yes,  kill every single last one of them with our aging nuclear arsenal or move the fuck on.

Again, don’t get all sentimental on me here, we’re doing big picture.

I’m in favor of the latter.

Here’s the rub, and this is my point, there is no surplus in either one of the only two viable solutions.  No need for exorbitant defense contractors, no nutrition for the military industrial complex, no reason to perpetuate the insanity and therefore no reason not to pursue the not so new normal of endless war.  Neither solution supplies reason to continue a closed loop enterprise that generates enormous revenue for the sick bastards who collect the filthy lucre and worship at the altar of death and violence.

So I’m in favor of walking away.

It is the most sensible, compassionate and courageous thing we could possibly do.  Help in whatever way we can.  Welcome as many refugees fleeing this nightmare we created as we have capacity for and otherwise abdicate the blackening of sand with blood to the five million troops that are already there.

Drinks for my friends.

Fight Chewbacca

All you jackasses understand is a goddamn brand. You don’t give a mad fuck what the brand stands for. You don’t care what the brand does. You’ll never take it upon yourself to seriously question the brand. Your brand cannot do any wrong no matter what. No matter what anyone who opposes your brand says or does, you reject it without ever considering it.

You are useless.

We have abandoned the civic responsibility of being informed.  Too much information is the new normal.  Clearly, people are stupefied.

Everybody needs a brand.

I understand now why we are where we are.

We have always been willing to work hard but are otherwise intellectually lazy.  It is more confusing than ever but we are so convinced that nose to the grindstone is paramount, we have forgotten to think  for ourselves.  Hard work is the key to the universe and failure to be rich means you’re a lazy bastard.  We actually believe all that.

Right and left.

Every single one of the republicans is an asshole with really shitty branding.

But they sell the shit out of anything.

They do it with fear.

It works.

Democrats are just as stupid as republicans.  Liberals are just as stupid as conservatives.  Progressives are just as stupid as the freedom caucus. Real issues are tertiary at best. It’s all about the cult of personality.  We really are all the same.  Hillary supporters don’t know shit about Bernie but think he’s a lazy commie ammosexual and Bernie supporters think Hillary is a corporate whore who abdicated her responsibility for blowjobs to an intern.  Reminds me of the other party in black hats.

It’s goddamn depressing.  I watch these assholes online, on social media, posting memes and links to polls and vines that are completely absent any effort whatsoever.  No adult discussion of issues, policy or legislation.  And these are liberals, progressives and democrats.  Madness.  It really is like they are rooting for their favorite wrestler.

See, democrats do it with hope.

Republicans have completely lost the will to do legitimate, germane topics.  They no longer even bother.  They surrendered to the culture wars and other idiocy. Democrats are close behind.  They screech, whine and explode over their candidate.  Hillary supporters get ugly and Bernie supporters get mean at the drop of a hat. Neither side offers anything salient, both sides just start shooting.

It has burst my bubble for sure.

I understand now why we are where we are.

Drinks for my friends.


Opposite day

I’m sitting here watching yet another clusterfuck republican debate.

They talk about taxes like that’s the problem. We are paying less in taxes, particularly corporations and the wealthy, than we have in five decades.  They ignore what we spend that tax revenue on.

They talk about government being too big but never mention that government spending, with the exception of the ridiculously bloated defense budget, has been going down for years.

They talk about immigration like it is is some sort of cancer on the economy and that deporting all the dirty wetbacks is the path to remission when our economy would collapse in a goddamn month if they could somehow manifest this fantasy.

They talk about too much regulation when the lack thereof is what’s literally killing us.

They talk about the need to spend even more on “defense”.  A trillion dollars more.  I shit you not.  When was the last time American soil actually needed defending? We don’t defend shit.  We start wars and we already spend a trillion dollars a year to do it.  Ten times more, a thousand percent more, than any other country.  It is insane.

They talk about terrorism being our most compelling threat.  The last time we were attacked was by Saudis but they’re one of our most important allies so we attacked a country that didn’t have shit to do with it and destabilized the whole region so thoroughly that a third world war is now a realistic possibility.

They talk about concentration of wealth and income inequality but only to blame it on Obama as opposed to republican obstructionism while they all pissed on a $15 minimum wage by lying about it’s effects.  They actually argued that wages were too high.  Seriously.  Fuck me.

The very things that are strangling us are the same things that earn the most enthusiastic and boisterous applause.  They all talk about cutting taxes, eliminating regulation and making more war when those three things exclusively are the reason for the the shit storm we are in.

They don’t talk about climate change, despite our very own pentagon identifying it as our most existential threat.

They don’t talk about homeless veterans, homeless in general, poverty etc.  No solutions, no substance, nothing salient or germane.

They don’t talk about how we can possibly hope to compete with countries that pay to educate their populace and provide access to health care with tax revenue instead of starving their middle class with absurd “defense” budgets.

They don’t talk about gun violence and racial inequality.

It’s fucking brain damage on parade.

Then, right in the goddamn middle of the whole masturbatory circus, there’s a fucking commercial for some bullshit, nationalistic propaganda movie about Benghazi. I swear I imagined millions of FOX viewers simultaneously commencing to diddle themselves with this guarantee of actualization for their addiction to rage.  Fear porn just like they crave it. I feel sorry for the mouth breathing viewers who mistook it for the actual money shot and spent the second half of the debate flagellating themselves back to inspiration.

Drinks for my friends.

The Company You Keep

The whole notion that Americans are somehow morally superior or righteous in some God given way is one of the fattest loads of crap ever served up.

We are not.

We do adore these handiest and laziest of myths.

We are not possibly any better than the millions our government has murdered in pursuit of imperialistic adventure.  How can we stomach ourselves after sending our youngest adults with the common denominator of least potential to commit these atrocities and then ignore them once they return from being murderous pawns in a rigged game of geopolitical brinkmanship?  We sloganeer relentlessly about supporting our troops.  It’s disgusting.  We say it with bumper stickers and memes and yellow ribbons but we never discuss the mental anguish our greed has visited upon these completely clueless innocent soldiers.  They come back missing arms and legs.  They come back missing scoops of their brains.  They come back missing a reason to live because they were ordered to participate in the absolute worst humans are capable of and we can’t wait to lionize them right before we completely blow them off.

We never have to look at them.

We never actually see them.

We cheer lead and wax all jingoistic with the requisite poison dose of nationalism that justifies might being right.

We’re so badass.

We rewrite history books and even textbooks to hide the blood on our hands.  Holocaust is a word that Americans know because of WWII, not because of our own systematic genocide of native Americans.  We ascribe our very worst behaviors to God’s will and then we pray.  That fucks with me.  Really hard.

Just last week our hope and change democratic president committed to putting boots on the ground in Syria.  A small number.  Sure.  But after he basically swore he wouldn’t. Five million goddamn soldiers in that region with fat fucking defense budgets and we somehow have to put our kids in another hopeless goddamn mess.

For what?

For profit.

For advantage.

For the bullshit that no one but the 1% cares about.


And half of us take these assholes seriously.  These candidates that preach about our moral and ethical responsibility in a world gone mad that they either made or hope to make or keep making.  How can we be so goddamn dumb?  It’s completely useless unless you’re stinking rich.  America makes war for profit.  Exclusively. How many did we kill in Vietnam,  Korea,  Libya, or  Iraq?  What’s it gonna take for us to learn this lesson?  Shit gets exponentially worse when profits soar.

These wars, this massive amount of death and destruction cannot possibly make the world anything other than worse.  It makes the filthy rich even richer and exposes the rest of us as rubes. We haven’t actually won a war since WWII.  We haven’t actually declared a war since then.  We haven’t actually fought a war since then that didn’t make everything ten times worse.


We have the most devastating military in the history of humankind and that’s our biggest goddamn problem.

We really have to stop being such patsies.

We need to get over ourselves.

ISIS and Al Qaeda are not a threat to you.  Not even close to the threat domestic right wing evangelical nut job gun nuts are.  America’s most compelling problems are all domestic. All of our worries and troubles are homegrown.

The very best evidence of this is the concerted effort to convince us otherwise.

If we could just shave twenty five percent from our national aspiration to visit misery and death on whomever stands in our way, we could spend it on taking care of most of our problems and people.  We would still be, by far, the most powerful military in the history of our species.  There would then be the extra added benefit of us being roughly one quarter less giant dickheads on the world stage.

Drinks for my friends.


We no longer give a shit about anybody we don’t actually know.  It’s how assholes are allowed to become even bigger assholes and believe all Mexicans and Blacks are lazy and nobody deserves food stamps.  It’s why rednecks think people even less fortunate than them are stealing from them instead of corporations, the military industrial complex and Wall Street. It’s how Ben Carson and Donald Trump are dominating the truncated attention span of the roughly one quarter of of our electorate that just can’t vote responsibly.

Think about it.  I’ve always called it the The One Quarter Paradigm.  When Nixon fled office ahead of impeachment, his approval rating was roughly 25%.  When Cheney and Bush escaped, somewhere around one quarter of our national pie was still rooting for the bastards.  The two most gigantic goofecocks of the century so far and brother Jeb is actually running on the keeping us safe thing.

One fourth of us are just enough of idiot to still get all wistful about them.

I don’t care who you are, that’s disgusting.

We must automatically saw 25% of all American voters off the top.

Too goddamn stupid to reach, much less help.


Trump and Carson are less than the paradigm already.  They will fade.  Their replacements will perform the same.  The entire bench cannot be more than half of the paradigm.  Do the math. Republicans are going to lose big unless democrats learn lickety split to eat there own the way the GOP has been for a decade.  Margins could be pregnant enough to make all patrician efforts by the paradigm no different than pissing in the wind. Gerrymandering and disenfranchisement won’t matter.  The GOP is not a threat in the context of national elections. They have nobody with legs or lungs.  They will cheat like bastards and it won’t matter.

Me, I like Kasich. I bet he’s a lush.

So let’s stop wringing our hands and sweating through our frilly liberal blouses over them.

Two candidates.

Sanders and Clinton.

Unless we screw the pooch.

I believe one is far better than the other but that’s not important right now.  Bernie supporters that intend to write him in for the general election if they don’t get their way are idiots.  This isn’t a campaign for student body president.  Clinton supporters who screech about Bernie not being a democrat or claim that he’s never accomplished anything are just assholes.

If anyone tries to tell me there’s a sexist element here I’ll swing hard for the center of the face.

The Supreme Court above all else.

The republicans are doing an excellent job of making Americans look like dickheads around the world.  If liberals keep it up the world will finally figure out what dickheads all of us really are. They will turn against us and the weird places around the world who still covet our culture will just dry up.

Canada just showed us.


Grow the fuck up.

Drinks for my friends.



I’ve been pretty skeptical about the substantive differences between our two political parties for awhile.

Having said that, I still believe the democratic party is the lesser of two evils. So it it makes complete angry sense to me to avail myself of every opportunity to to mock, impugn, malign, insult and deride the spectacularly ridiculous and transparent antics of republicans. If for no other reason than to put democrats on notice that we smell bullshit and if we ever manage to wade our way through all of the republican fuckery foisted on us by the hour, democrats need to get that they are next.

It only makes sense to staunch blood from the most prolific wound first.

I fully expected Hillary to maintain calm and control during the Benghazi burlesque.  She did not disappoint.  She has balls.  There’s no other way to say it.  She was playing chess while the republicans on the committee dabbled at checkers.  She is whip smart and solid. She played them and I don’t doubt she actually set them up. With grace and aplomb.  She flat out outlasted them.  It was an awesome display of composure and command of facts, specifics and patience.

She crushed it.

I am enthusiastic about Bernie Sanders for reasons I think are pretty obvious.  But Hillary Clinton doesn’t suck.  I will vote for her in the general if that’s the lay of the land come next summer.  I’ll feel better about it because of her performance today.

If we’re ever actually able to make the entire republican bench cry in front of their mouth breathing, knuckle dragging base, it will be Hillary under the next microscope, not Bernie Sanders.

So here’s my point, Bernie Sanders’ influence on this election has been nothing but a net positive.  He absolutely has moved the entire conversation further left.  He alone is responsible for Hillary’s “coming out” on Keystone and more importantly, the TPP.  I do not trust her newfound positions on these things but it is measurable progress nonetheless.  She is too cozy with the puppet masters and that is a fact.

What it amounts to is whether we we move forward or keep from sliding back.  It’s either a political and social revolution or not losing too much more ground for at least four more years.  Maybe we’ll be more sick of this crap after that long but I doubt it.  The time is now.  It’s pretty plain that none of these jackasses on the republican bench stands a chance against pinball wizards like Hillary or Bernie.

Imagine Trump or Carson trying to pile on against either of them.

Light sabers versus cap pistols.

It makes me wish I was a comedian.

I can’t wait.

It’s ours to lose.

Drinks for my friends.

Confessions Of An Electron Director (A&M Chapter Nineteen V2.0)

Once upon a time there was a band named Dumpster.

A Brian Huttenhower project. Famous A&R guy who signed Soundgarden and then succumbed to crack.

The lead singer was a dude named Robert English. He simmered. Brilliant blues eyes, big front teeth, one chipped in half and a bald head. Burly and coiled like he’d just been released from prison.  My sense was he would combust with violence like taking a breath.

I was afraid of him.

His girlfriend was all tall amber pale and vampy. She was a B level porn star and he was a heroin junkie. I feared him when he needed his demon but I liked him. Very smart and very funny. Tons of dark charisma. Nosferatu and Anton LeVey.

An anarchist.

A nihilist.

He showed up one morning to the recording session with an eyebrow missing. When I asked about it, he smirked, looked away and said he’d woken up with it  resting perfectly on his pillow. He said he decided to leave it there, just as he found it.  He described it with his hands as he explained.  He was lying to me.  Of course.

I wondered out loud if there was maybe a radiation leak nearby.

Dumpster was an angry band. Furious punk rock with excellent pop hooks. Kelly, the drummer told me that Robert’s girlfriend had the ugliest pussy he’d ever seen. I didn’t understand until he popped in a VHS one day. It was an incredibly ugly pussy. The color was wrong. Like those badly lit menu photos overhead in cheap ethnic restaurants. Garish and glistening color with fucked up contrast.

We took a break everyday around six when she showed up with Robert’s rig in a small tin.  He didn’t want it around otherwise because he was serious about what we were doing.  He was limiting himself.  She nurtured with slender hands and a soft voice until he was high and then patronized with long fingers and dirty nails once he was.  She was was afraid of him but in love with what she wanted him to be.

She smelled of dryer sheets and feminine deodorant.

It was far from my first experience with a drug addicted musician but something about Robert intrigued me way beyond any of it.

He told me a story about getting hit in the face with a full can of beer while walking along side a highway in South Carolina on a hot summer day. He said he figured he deserved it because he was just some fucking punk and that was how his front tooth was chipped. He said it didn’t hurt much. He was lying to me, about all of it.

I hated that.

He was a lion, just sitting and staring at me, tail flickering, sizing me up and down. Robert was some kind of predator.

Until we did smack together, he was a very dangerous cartoon.

We began to talk about it. I did my best to lure him into conversations about it.  It took a few days. He ended up being a pretty forthright guy. He knew what I was getting at. Heroin was pretty much the only drug I’d never experimented with. I was more than curious. I knew full well the hold it took. I’d already seen people die from it. Crazy, but I was dumb and fearless.

Eventually he relented, with the firm disclaimer that he was not about to be responsible for what came of it. He warned me with brutal candor about what we were going to do. No way would he have anything to do with me shooting it. He had just enough evil maliciousness to wonder would happen if he abetted and indulged me.

So we waited until we were finished recording one night and smoked it off aluminium foil, inhaling it with a glass tube.  Chasing the dragon. Bubbling brown sugar streaming down chrome as we followed it with a Bic flame from underneath.

He coached me the entire time.

Making sure I got a good hit and wasn’t wasting his dope.

It was pungent but sweet.

Curry and honey.

The high was ridiculous and overwhelming. Almost hot. Molasses in my head. I could not believe how comfortable I was.  An earthquake would have been a curiosity. We had beers and talked about what we were working on. We had another hit. He walked me through it again. We talked about his life. I didn’t understand how such an angry man could succumb to such flowery observations in such a syrupy calm and swampy Carolina drawl.

I wondered if he would be homicidal without it.

The heroin.

Some people need to be medicated.

The next night we finished and waited for the band to leave. We took a plate from the kitchen and I snorted grainy beige sugar into each nostril. His lines were longer and fatter than mine. I was glad of that. We took  a walk. I told the guard we’d be back in a while on the way out the front gates.

Up La Brea and onto Sunset. We walked for about an hour without saying much. The lights and neon were gorgeous and the smells of exhaust and fast food coated me in a way so spectacularly pleasant but impossible to describe. My small town boy enveloped in the city and it’s most lethal drug. Glazed and nestled in the soft wholesome fibers of Hollywood autumn twilight. I asked about his anger and whether heroin might be what balanced him. He took his time and finally said he imagined there were better things out there for him but he didn’t know what they were.

He was telling me the truth as best he could.

He asked me if I was having fun and I told him I was floating in bliss. I said to him I can never do this again and he smiled for the first and last time I ever saw and said he hoped not under his breath.

I never did.

It still haunts me.

Don’t doubt that the randomness of life is in someway synchronized with all the things that we don’tunderstand about the universe. It’s what we do know that confounds us. All the while, what we don’t know blows us along.

Drinks for my friends.


It’s interesting isn’t it?

Two republicans have dropped out of the race because God told them to get in and then God told them to get out.

Right there on live television they lie.  And they are incredible, massively audacious, thundering lies. There has never been more effrontery.

These motherfuckers.

The entire GOP is completely bereft of anything at all.

Anything at all.

Then there’s us.

If you don’t support Hillary, you’re a he-man woman hater.  A chauvinist.  You  bristle at her pantsuits or criticize her for big bad Bill’s blow jobs.  She shamelessly milked that the other night. Waiting for the swinging dicks and the feminists to clash.  She’s a corporate trollop and a hawk.  She has mad skills.

It’s not untrue.

Or, because you dare to hope a consistent man of integrity like Bernie Sanders has a chance of finally breaking the forty year grip of neoconservative and neoliberal fuckery, well then you must just be looking to suck a fart out of a unicorns ass.  Because he’s a grumpy loser who’s never accomplished anything.  Because he’s a “socialist” and too radical.  He’s a populist.

It’s not untrue.

Like this is some sports rivalry.

The pregame for the democratic debate the other night might as well have been produced for the goddamn Superbowl. I was offended.  I was thoroughly nonplussed by Cheryl Crow singing the national anthem.   It’s what’s on TV so what the hell. It had tremendous production value.  I was expecting a prize fight and tons of blood.  I didn’t get that.

Social media is a petri dish for this nonsense.

There’s no way left to get the masses to understand that we’re all in the same boat.

Liberals are just as goddamn dumb as conservatives and the corollary is that democrats are no longer different in any meaningful way than republicans. Yes, the democratic debate was classier and far less callow.  But it’s over and not one thing has changed. There is no better evidence than assholes from both parties acting and responding in exactly the same way. Like it’s recess on the playground.  It not the democratic debate this that proves this, it’s the obsession with who won.

It occurs to me that the entire point of a political debate is not whether there is a winner or a loser, but rather how the game was played.  In other words, how good you looked.  The problem is with the immaturity of the electorate.

They can’t all be assholes.

Drinks for my friends.




Rich Man Poor Man

Let’s set an arbitrary figure.  Say $100 million. If you have 100 million dollars all to your lonesome and you are not a world class, king hell, reigning champion philanthropist, you suck. That’s more money than you can ever spend on yourself and like five generations to come.

Here’s what’s worse.  If you aren’t spectacularly generous,  you are saying that somehow you have been gifted with a provenance of wisdom and prudence so divine as to allow you to decide who eats and who starves. Who freezes and who gets a bed and a blanket.  Because you could make an actual difference and you don’t.  If all you bastards got together, you could literally save the world.

I’m talking about the 1% here.

The filthy.

Rich people can be disgusting. Most seem to hate the poor.  They actually believe poor people are somehow infected with failure.  Like it’s a disease.  They are are afraid of them.  Afraid of us.

I’ve always wondered, in terms of personal fortune, what really is the difference between $20 million and $200 million?  What the hell?  When do you stop caring how much you can accumulate?  How do the vulgar rich not understand there’s a finite amount of money and at a certain point  they are manufacturing poverty?

I’m paraphrasing a famous author when I say that socialism never caught on in America because most of the electorate view themselves as temporarily inconvenienced millionaires.  The pollution of ideology.  The absurdity of the carrot and the stick we’ve all been offered.

So we worship wealth.  And products that make us look wealthier than we are.  The rich do the very same thing only better.  We envy them.  We want to live in those cool living rooms we see in the movies. They do.  They live there.  Prosperity has become a euphemism for greed.

Cat puke would confuse them.  It would ruin their day.

I don’t get it.  But, I like money too.  Who doesn’t?  I was at the mall today and I shopped.  I didn’t buy much but I enjoyed my consumer experience.  I really love ostentatious indoor shopping malls.  I could spend hours in Williams Sonoma.  I could live there.  L’occitane is my favorite goddamn store.  I chose between Hot Dog On a Stick and a Mongolian barbecue.  I came home with a gorgeous cologne on my wrist.  I loves me some mall.  Retail therapy.  I love that shit.

I’d like to believe that if I won the lottery to the tune of say, five million, I’d buy an Audi R8, some new clothes, a nice watch and a modest house.  Then I’d enroll in some history and literature classes and find an animal shelter to volunteer at.  I’d get organized enough to eat mostly healthy food, exercise and spend way more time with friends and family.  I wouldn’t be available before noon no matter what.

I don’t understand why people who hoard houses full to bursting with useless possessions are regarded differently than people who hoard more money than they can ever possibly spend.  We are disgusted by the former but celebrate the latter.  Seems like the same disease to me.

Most filthy rich people in the world didn’t earn it.  They have no idea what it’s like to spend physical, intellectual or emotional capital day in and day out to barely get by.  Most of them inherited it from ancestors who made a career of screwing labor and they, the scions, make a career of the same.

Not a novel conclusion I know.

I’m not here to split the atom but i’d like to point out the obvious.

Understand.  The decisions we make every day are because of decisions they have already made.  They are running our shit.

It’s just weird how we revere these people.  With few exceptions, they contribute nothing to society.  Most of them are in fact, a cancer infecting the rest us one way or another.  They buy our representatives, they buy entire governments.  They pollute our air and water and food without fear of sanction or censure or punishment.  They invest in and make shit loads of money off of war.  Most of them don’t give a mad fuck about anyone but themselves.  They are sociopaths without the habit of serial murder.

Yet we have at least two presidential candidates running based solely on the credential that they are oily affluent.  One is leading in the polls and the other is gaining.

Their popularity is far more an indictment of us than it is of them.

Hang the rich.

Drinks for my friends.




The Year of The Cat

I don’t cry very often but when I do the tears start by coming out the sides of my eyes, run past my ears and my jaw, down my neck,  kinda like sweat.  It’s not until I’m really bawling that the front of my face gets soaked and my nose is running.

Once that happens, that’s when I know I’m fucked up.

My cat is dying.  She’s seventeen or eighteen years old.  Her kidneys are in an irreversible state of atrophy.

She’s old and all stove up.

Her coat is matted.  She doesn’t groom much these days.

I pet her and there are clumps.

I guess she can’t reach anymore.

Otherwise she’s still rabbit soft.

She’s a spectacularly patterned calico with huge eyes even for a cat.  Gold or green depending on kelvin temperature or her mood ring head.  Those big eyes sit a little deeper than they used too.  Despite very old bones, she walks the apartment with dignity.  Always regal but those eyes are a little confused of late.

She’s never been sweet or loving.

She’s always been cranky and particular.

I adore her.

Her name is Swirly and she’s gorgeous.

She weighs about nine pounds.

Down from twelve.

Like I said, she’s not sweet.

She can actually be a little cunty.

She happened upon me during my salad days so I’m not exactly sure how old she is.  I’ve been her dad forever. She came to the warehouse as a kitten and started visiting my office and sleeping in my chair when I was gone for the day so I became her dad.  I bought her food and scooped her box.  Took her to vet.

When I got to work back in the day, I’d drop my Starbucks and backpack in my office and head out to the warehouse where she was always waiting to announce her self from various corners and elevations.

She would say my name.

I would go to her, say her name and rub her face and chin.

When I left that job I took her with me.

She’s lived with me in seven different places and in two states.  Over a thousand miles in my car.

Now I come home and she’s bathing in the sun coming through the sliding glass door.

I always stop to watch her breathe.

To make sure she’s breathing.

She doesn’t like the new low protein food for senior kitties in the beginning stages of renal failure.  She did at first.  Now she won’t eat it.  She wants the fast food. Fancy Feast and Sheba.  She hoovers that shit and ignores the food that will prolong her life.  She doesn’t have many teeth left so I always get the kind with gravy. She’s not big on fish or seafood.

She gets dehydrated and bound up so she can’t poop.  We take her for an enema.  We have an aircraft carrier sized sectional that she owns about one quarter of.  A blue camping tarp half way between the east and west wings of it that we put the puppy pads on. She does her business there as exclusively as she can.  She lost interest in the litter box some time back.  We have a deal.  It helps me to monitor her progress.

She still likes to piss on whatever is on the bathroom floor.

The worst part is dosing her.  The irregularity regimen.  Holding her down, holding her head, prying her jaw open to squirt two different medicines down her throat from syringes.  She hates it and so do we.  It takes two of us.  I feel really bad when I miss or it spills out of her mouth because she can’t deal with it just then.

She gets a stay from the dosing for a day every time she bequeaths a turd with any heft.

Someday soon I’ll be holding her while she dies or after she’s dead.

One way or another it’s coming.

I’ve known her for a very long time and I’m watching the end of her life and she seems to know all about it.

Maybe the best and worst parts of people animal relationships is that we can’t actually explain things to each other.  We talk.  We communicate.  But we’re never sure how thorough we are being with each other.

Maybe that’s best.

Her end might be up to me.  It could be my decision.   I’m agnostic.  No “Rainbow Bridge” for me.  I hear they will come to your house now.  Home pet euthanasia. I’m pretty confused but I imagine that will be the most comfortable way for both of us.

She hangs a little closer these days.

These days she flops at my feet while I’m at the computer.  These days she doesn’t always look me straight in the eye and hiss when I pick her up to kiss her voluptuous head.  These days she seems to finally appreciate the comfort of love and affection while realizing it has nothing to do with her dignity.

We’re getting to know each other better.

She’s still beautiful and she talks more than she used to.

I’m her dad.

I’ll remember her sleeping.


This one is gonna hurt.

Drinks for my friends.


Oh Big Brother

I’m so over all this government is evil crap.

So I’m all over it.

Government is evil because we are losers.

Passing the buck and blaming the government has become an American institution. Reagan started this bullshit in earnest..  We the people are the problem.  We get lulled into complacency by the next big and shiny anything. From Pong to the latest  iphone.  Ridiculous gun racks and ludicrous sub-woofers.  Or goddamn religion. Meantime, the middle class is getting really hammered while the poor are nothing but screwed.  We know this to be true because even republicans are beginning to acknowledge it.  The high fructose generation is just mad for the cult of political personality and identity politics. Substance is always boring unless it bites you on the ass.  So we keep walking, blind eye on all the racial injustice and economic inequity. We reelect these greasy pricks over and over despite the overwhelming disgust and shame we feel.

These days the morning after sucks for everyone regardless of political affiliation.

It’s national cop out.  We keep failing at responsibility and accountability for just how fucked we are.

We are a nation of self loathers.

We have exactly the government we deserve.

We know this to be true because if everyone voted, we’d be much better off.  The percentage of voters who actually vote in this country is embarrassing.

Whoever those bastards are on TV, they aren’t us.  So instead of doing something about it, we throw a tantrum.  We don’t vote.  We disengage or get all self righteous and wallow in indignation.  The smarter ones say fuck it  and rob banks or run for office and join a bank.  Most of us who bother are just punching ourselves in the face by voting for whatever carnival barker is most successful at convincing us this new shit sandwich is really gonna be mouthwatering.

Or, they run around beseeching that voting is futile.  Despite the corporate sponsored concert of effort to disenfranchise every voter who has a legitimate axe to grind.

We are loathsome.

If I didn’t know better, I’d get me a tin foil hat and obsess over chemtrails.

Tell me what’s wrong with NASA. Going to the moon and all the attendant technology.  All that climate science and understanding of our world.  The EPA, other than being rendered so anemic and addled it can barely cross the road to file the legal equivalent of a fuck you against the Koch brothers.  The EPA used to be a contender. There’s no good reason government isn’t building and repairing bridges and roads.  The postal service is fine and costs us nothing but postage.  Social security is awesome and whatever is wrong with it is an easy fix.  

Tell me, just how the ACA is failing.  

We need Medicare and Medicaid.  

The biggest lie America believes is that we can’t afford these things.

We are the richest goddamn country in written history.

It’s stupid.

How do we govern without government?

Tell me. 

Frankly, the truth is we could put any one of these goofecock deadbeats on the republican bench in office and make them do anything we want.  We the people ended a war.  We did.  We the people rose and demanded the vote for women and blacks and all kinds of other things like reversing an amendment so we could get drunk in public again of all things.  This all happened long before we lapsed into lazy and disaffected and gave up.

You can’t just vote for a president and complain once he is elected or pout and hold your breath when she isn’t.

The price of this democratic republic is our attention and participation.

Voting is a right but it doesn’t end there.  In all reality, it’s where individual responsibility begins.

Ever notice the people who blame the government for everything are the ones counting on God to fix it all?

Drinks for my friends.


Clusterfuck Revisited

So I watched as much of it as I could stomach.

Almost the whole thing.

Actually, my DVR cut off the end of it and I found myself all little grateful.


I’d had enough.

Here’s what I learned:

The most important issue America faces today is the funding of Planned Parenthood.  All them goddamn job stealing Mexican rapists is second.  Third,  America is being bullied by every country from Mexico to China so we need to spend even more money to  somehow rebuild what is already the most powerful and well funded military the human race has ever seen.  A globally celebrated deal with Iran to prevent them from enriching material to build a nuclear weapon is a deliberate betrayal of Israel that will inevitably lead to the apocalypse comes in at number four.  Last but not least and a solid number five, is Donald Trump’s acuity for substance free ad hominem improvisation.


Carly Fiorina has poise, charisma, specifics and is completely full of shit.  She won the debate for the biggest lie about a fully formed fetus, heart beating, legs kicking, being kept alive so it’s brain could be harvested.  Unfuckingbelievable.  Jeb Bush is a weak chinned wuss that thinks Margaret Thatcher should be pictured on American currency.  Huckabee is a shameless theocratic zealot.  Ted Cruz is becoming so transparent he’ll soon disappear.  Chris Christie is the last dipshit in America who thinks marijuana is a gateway drug.  Donald Trump will solve EVERYTHING by getting along with EVERYONE even though he’s a belligerent asshole. George W. Bush kept us safe because 911 never happened despite the aftermath, which was a bonus.  Ronald  Reagan, notwithstanding selling weapons to Iran for six years and flooding our inner cities with crack as well as presiding over the most indicted, arrested and convicted administration in American history,  is virtually indistinguishable from Jesus by anyone running for president as a republican.

Rand Paul, despite being a hypocritical, plagiarizing, racist, was sane, sensible and compassionate on the issues of national drug policy and American aggression.  It was the only fresh air all evening.

It was exactly the festival of outrageous mendacity and deliberate fomentation of fear appropriate for the level of emotional intelligence that has become the common denominator for the republican party as a whole.

Drinks for my friends.

Free at last, free at last…….

I’m not going to comment on this.

I’m not going to.

Fuck me.

I’ll keep it short.

This woman, this sociopathic hypocrite, just sucks. From what I understand, the bible she’s so conveniently and contemporaneously enchanted with, would have had her stoned to to death for transgressions committed against it long ago.

One thing I know for sure, she’s a loser and does not have the courage of her convictions.

I’m absolutely sure of it.

This is why I loathe her.

She’s just another self righteous fraud.

And that is why I can’t stand this vulgar burlesque of moral pageantry, this shameless politicization, prostration, hucksterism, pandering and cheap fucking shilling by Mike Huckabee and every other loser republican polling under five percent,  it’s just embarrassing.

I’m ashamed that our politics and attention have become so goddamn cheap as to afford this bullshit any spectacle whatsoever.

That bigotry and ignorant hatred is celebrated or merely even allowed to be displayed for our indignant despise, coast to coast in the national media, virtually wall to wall, just fills me with disgust.

Goddamn this is stupid and I intend every iteration of whatever pun you perceive there.

Count me among the idiots for even acknowledging it.

I’m guilty.

Fuck me.

Somebody help me to look away.


Kim Kardashian’s ass is more worthy.

Drinks for my friends.

American Graffiti

Immigration is not a problem in America.

It is not an issue.

It never has been.


It’s not a deficit in any way.

It’s a goddamn net positive for all of us.

It always has been.

What it is now, is what it always has been.

A deliberately organized, thoroughly pernicious distraction.

No immigrant has ever stolen a job from an American.

Teabilly fucks should be grateful for the brown folks because without them their colons would  be bound up like mummified sausages.  Their rectums would be like packed with concrete for not being able to afford roughage in their diet.  Brown people are the only reason these miscreants can afford to supplement their ramen, spaghettio and pancake diets with fiber in the form of leafy greens, vegetables and grains so they can take a decent crap in whatever they recognize as a toilet.

Build a wall.

Fuck me that’s stupid.

When was the last time a goddamn wall worked?

Lord of The Rings?

You wanna end it?  Go after the fat white business owners who exploit the slave labor.  They capitalize the profits and socialize the losses and  never miss an opportunity to propagate the xenophobic hatred.  Demonizing the poor brown folks and their wives and children is the only way to insure they get to abuse the help at restaurants, hotels and on cruises and still turn a profit.


We don’t need a northern border because they understand we’re fucking nuts and want no part of this.  Pretty soon they will need a wall.

Nevermind that Mexican immigration is at damn near net zero and the only reason anyone from south of our border ever wanted to come here is to flee the horrific conditions that American greed and lust created in their countries in the first place.

We complain they breed irresponsibly but never acknowledge that it’s because we forced religion down their necks with muskets hundreds of years ago to “civilize” them.

The tacit agreement is they can avail themselves of emergency rooms and a limited amount of other social services and our hamburgers and salads don’t cost fifty bucks a pop.

We absolutely enjoy this transaction whether we’re aware of it or not.

It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever observed about American culture save for the open air practice of slavery.

And here’s what flat out amazes me.  It’s the number one republican campaign issue.  Number fucking one.  Of all the issues facing us, like our survival as a species, perpetual war and America’s own very real potential for becoming a third world country, this is what the mouth breathers are screeching about.  Something like half of us are self righteously indignant enough about brown people to somehow single them out for costing us a few dollars a month for the services they provide at an insane bargain rate.

What the fuck is wrong with us?

Like any of them would risk voting or reporting a crime or trying to get food stamps or welfare.

So once again half of us are so consumed with worry about this “problem” of our own device, it’s become a single issue litmus test for every single republican candidate.


There is one racist prick jackmammering the rest of us with this message and instead of calling him on it, the republican bench struggles to say the stupidest shit they can think of hoping for a spotlight in his venue.  It’s like they all fell off a truck he was driving and can’t think of anything but to chase it.


Drinks for my friends.

The Importance of Being Lubricated

I want sauce with everything I eat.

From burritos to apples, all food is better with a sauce.

The sauce for cereal is whatever kind of milk and the sauce for salad is whatever kind of dressing.  The sauce for bagels is butter and or cream cheese etc.  The sauce for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is the jelly and so is the peanut butter.  It’s a sauce sandwich, stupid.

And how lovely is your very own formula of the wasabi and the soy when you’re dunking the albacore and the salmon?

Fuckin’ ponzu sauce rocks because scallions and sesame oil.

Sauce is one of life’s most obvious secrets.  The lubricant of existence.  Alchemy.  Sauce is proof of evolution and the superiority of our species. There are a plethora of synonyms for the concept of sauce, like condiment, side, gravy, baste, brine, juice, glaze, drippings, Miracle Whip……… realistically anything liquid that is orally consumable meant to accompany anything solid that is orally consumable is sauce and it’s an achievement right up there with our ability to split the atom and explore other planets.

Hardly as intrinsically rewarding though.

Here’s more proof.  Considerable science and technology has been brought to bear to preserve sauces and condiments indefinitely in little pillows or packets of foil and plastic.  I have a small drawer full just in case I need some kind of sauce in an emergency or as some kind of powerful afterthought.  I never worry about using them. Flavorful and safe until after the apocalypse.  An entire door of my refrigerator devoted to nothing but liquid flavor in various jars.

Cheese is an awesome food because of the relative ease in transforming it into a sauce.  Cheese sauce is among humankind’s highest achievements.  Proof of our right to dominion.  Animals have no concept of sauce.  Butter is awesome for the same reason. Combine butter and cheese and you have Alfredo or, a relatively cold fusion the way I see it.

I’ve lapsed to such profound and despicable indulgence that I have, on occasion, experienced the glee and shame of rubbing a deliciously tangy Hollandaise in my hair. I believed it had properties beyond my imagination based purely on the fact that it tasted divine. There’s nothing quite as simultaneously disturbing and invigorating as staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your own head festooned with the gore of a uniquely delicious sauce intended for a perfectly poached chicken egg.

I admit, booze is the sauce for joy and despair.

Okay so,  liquids, what about gases?

Wood smoke is a gas and it’s a goddamn bona fide sauce.

I’ll think of another example in a minute.

I argue that seasonings like salt and pepper for example, are sauce.  Oregano, dill, cayenne, coriander, lemon zest, cinnamon………see?


So there we have it.

All three states of matter.

Just the other day I made a sauce that raised high the roof beams.  I started off with a deep sorta sauce pan with way too much really good olive oil on medium heat.  Half a garlic bulb, a whole large red onion and a whole shallot, all chopped coarse.  Added the onions first, the shallots second and the garlic last.  Cooked it until the onion is translucent  and before anything gets brown at all.  Add a couple generous glugs of a decent dry white and turn the burner way up so it can boil off for just a minute or so.

Then came the aggregate of my prep.  Eight medium vine ripened tomatoes, diced.  About a pint total of a couple varieties of chopped green, black and Kalamata olives along with big chunks of slippery roasted garlic.  Bold amounts of colorful ground peppercorns, lemon pepper and oregano in powder form.  The juice and zest of one whole lemon.

It was just like the Food Network I swear.

Then I exercised patience.

It needed to cook down for a spell.

An hour here and there with me tasting and doctoring.

A little smoked  sea salt once in a while as it reduced.

Got the farfalla boiling (24 oz.) and began grating and adding handfulls of parmesan, asiago and this hard, aged jack I found to the saucepan.  When executed correctly, the oily, chunky textured concoction behaves like a friendly emulsifier and it all evolves into a gooey, pizza flavored amalgam in no time.

Dumped the pasta in a mesh strainer and poured about half the sauce in the bottom of the giant pasta pot.  Poured the butterfly in and it clicked and smacked while it tumbled and then dumped the rest of the sauce on top and stirred it like a bastard with a giant black plastic spoon.

The sound was like a churning of wax teeth but the aroma was fabulous.

I left the three cheeses out with the grater.

Awesome sauce.

Drinks for my friends.

Dancing With The Devil

I’ve got a bit of a library. I read a lot of books. There’s always one in my briefcase. I try to put a book by the toilet I’ve already read and liked for any number of reasons so I can be reacquainted with whatever I thought was important about it.

A few days ago ago I put “Stupid White Men” by Michael Moore beside the throne and I’ve been struck by a few things.  He’s actually a good writer. He’s pretty funny and every thing he talks about from fifteen years ago is discouragingly worse today.  It’s spooky prescient.  No wonder he’s so disgusted these days.

Just today I read that Dick Cheney’s Haliburton is suing the very Iraq war veterans they poisoned. Somebody please explain to me how this real life Darth Vader fuck has not been carried from his lair and roasted on a spit jammed up his ass and out his mouth live on television.

I started this blog over seven years ago with one idea, most people aren’t stupid, they just don’t pay attention.  I’m not sure I own that anymore.

Here’s what happened.  Before Obama ever announced for ’08, he knew exactly what the transaction was.  In exchange for however much he could accomplish, he knew he’d be making a deal at the crossroads at some point. He’s done just that.  He hosts the evil while he does what he can. I believe that’s who he is now.  I’m pretty cynical so that’s how I see it.

Part of what happened to the inspired left is their naivete.  They never factored Satan into it.  I don’t actually believe in Satan but you know what I’m saying.  A lot of us on the left are kittens.  We find ourselves asking if drones and a bullshit trade deal are worth marriage equality and a far from perfect health care mandate.  If allowing big banks to consolidate even more power than before is a fair trade for for his populist rhetoric and a deficit cut in half. We wonder very hard.  And we weep.

The answer is maybe.

Two steps forward and one step back may be worth it merely because we’re  more fucked without it?

So we applaud and celebrate.

Therein lies our mistake.

We take what we are given and lament it all once the deal is done.

It really is our fault.

This is life in the fast lane.  This is America.  Everything is incremental except rage and lust for power and money.  Those things are exponential. Otherwise, it happens one step at a time.  Because most of us are fools we allow for it.  We are flawed.  We will not do the right thing this cycle.  We will not and we will sit around again and wonder what happened.

It will be obvious.

We will have elected a Clinton or a Bush.

We’ll take to the streets again in small numbers and demand change.

The world will marvel at our stupidity.


Any liberal who complains we didn’t have a choice this time or were faced again with the lesser of two evils is full of shit.

The entire republican bench is astoundingly hollow.

There really is no there, there.

There is nothing to lose.

They are all complete fuckups.

Donald Trump says what they all think and he’s scaring the shit out of them.  He’s leading the polls by double digits.  He’s not going to last but he’s swinging for the fences.  He is a singular and insular instrument of arrogance and stupidity laying bare the arrogance and stupidity of almost half of us.

As of today, Hillary Clinton refuses to stake a claim on the Keystone pipeline or the TPP.  These issues are settled among progressives.  She’s swinging the lumber of plutocrats and Wall Street.

I usually swing for the fences and I’ve enjoyed some pretty rewarding successes because of it.  I’ve also had my ass cheese grated in a painful and regrettable fashion for the same reason.  I always swing for the fences when there’s nothing to lose.  Always.  As of today there are seventeen republican contenders and three or four democratic ones.

We have nothing to lose by supporting the one democratic candidate that has never bullshitted us.

Not once.


Bernie Sanders says what we all think and he’s scaring the shit out of them.  He has no problem speaking against the pipeline or the trade deal.  His whole platform is every single issue that was not discussed in the first republican debate.  He is now and always has talked about them.  He’s not lying about any of them and he’s not avoiding any them.

Bernie Sanders is swinging for the fences.

He has nothing to lose.

Drinks for my friends.


Well that was weird.


I cannot at this point give you any sort of detailed analysis.

But I guess I owe you something.

I’m still reeling.

Whatever, here we go.

What struck me first was the piety.  I’m an agnostic and view these assignations for Christ confusing and sort of pedantic.  Forgive me but I’ll never understand the American obsession with religion.  To me it’s an obvious Achilles Heel but we lap it up and we’re never better for it.  It just doesn’t matter.  Too many of us are under the the illusion that adherence to religious dogma is somehow a reliable indicator of moral or ethical resolve. Mike Huckabee for example, is an egregiously dirty prick.  His pronouncements about Obama leading Jews to ovens with the Iran negotiations and deploying our military to prevent gays from being married is unhinged and should disqualify him from ever being allowed in front of a television camera.

What a dick.

But they all did it.

It was fucking creepy.

I was looking for stupid and I found it.

So I can’t say I was disappointed.

I honestly think the moderators asked good hard questions.  I was impressed given how low I assumed the bar to be.  I was not surprised however by the outrageous mendacity that was then allowed to flood.  They all lied about “entitlements”, defense spending and the success of of the ACA.



They were just allowed to piss all over everything.

Then they all sold us a fantasy about a shrinking military and some paranoid vulnerability.  This is where it gets magnificently bizarre. It’s a huge lie.  Our defense spending is WAY up under Obama. I don’t even know what to say about this biggest load of bullshit.  I hate this about the Obama presidency.  I hate it it and they just lie about it in the opposite direction consistently.  It’s just not true.

Obama blew the defense budget the fuck up.

They want more?

That’s some irony right there.

They all rather predictably merchandised fear.  They get this more than anything else.  They own that to be credible with the mouth breathing teabillies, they cannot skip striking fear in the hearts of their base.  Gotta check that box. Whenever offered the opportunity to seize the pornography of panic and danger, they grabbed that ring and acquitted themselves without shame or humility.

Carson was charming but innocuous.

I’d hire him to babysit puppies and proofread my children’s book.

Christie, Trump and Kasich had conviction but were shallow and callow.

These assholes did better than I expected.

Jeb was overcooked linguine.  No charisma, no footing and a quivering chin.  Weak sauce.  He can’t win shit. I absolutely loathed his answer to the question about the wars started by his dumbshit brother.  Cowardly and insulting.  He’s a twat and a loser.  Fuck you Jeb Bush you piece of shit. I sit here trying to think of more clever ways to say that.

I hate that motherfucker.


Scott Walker’s eyes are too close together and he needs to just shave his fucking head and get it over with.  Trump at least pulls off the comb over with ostentatious arrogance. Notice how his ridiculous hair is no longer an issue.

Demonizing Planned Parenthood and immigration was another big fear factor.

Yeah well, fuck me.

Nobody in this country aspires to kill babies or has any desire to change the tacit contract in place between white folks and brown folks that allows for access to emergency rooms and schools for their children so they don’t grow up to be felons and our salads don’t cost fifty goddamn dollars.

I watched this spectacle and got drunk.  I cannot believe we are at a place where somewhere near half of of us are taking any of these assholes seriously.  It’s goddamn depressing.  They pander and cavort and exploit without vanity or shame.  They demonize and lie about everything.  They spin and obfuscate away from anything and everything that matters to us on the ground.

These bastards are unapologetic and proud of it all.

They will say anything.

Not one single breath devoted to anything that actually matters.

They are all cowards, every single one of them.

This is our contest in America and it’s unbelievably embarrassing.

America is stupid.

Drinks for my friends.


Mansion In The Sky

I’ve decided that I want to live on the highest southern corner of the tallest building in my hometown for the duration of my retirement.

The Ormsby House Hotel and Casino.

Ten stories closer to heaven.

When I was a kid, soon after construction was completed, I made a point of getting myself to the top of it to drop superballs and marbles and whatever else I could fit in my pockets.  It didn’t take long for me to be disappointed with the results but it was the furthest I’d ever been above the planet.  Breathtaking.  It was then that the idea of a permanent residence began to form in my head.  It wasn’t nearly as grandiose a notion as it is now.

It’s been closed for fifteen years for a remodel, but I’m confident it will reopen soon.  Walls will have to be razed and so, walls will have to be raised to make room for what I imagine to be suitable and private square footage.  It will cost a lot of money.  It goes without saying I don’t yet have the means but I remain undeterred.

There will be numerous venues for both fine and casual dining and at least a couple bars and cocktail lounges.  The windowless and clockless environs will quiet the preoccupations I have for time of day and the world outside.  After that, the most picturesque and historic walk in the great and storied metropolis of Carson City begins just outside the casino doors and extends forth for hundreds of feet to the north up highway 395 or Main Street, as we Carsonites know it.

I’m sure the neon signage on the roof will seep it’s subtle red glow into my windows at night.

The bedroom wing will face east.

I won’t mind taking the same elevator as the regular folks when I begin my day seeking the magical casino omelette and coffee or end it returning from a night on the town.

And then there will be room service twenty four seven.

I adore room service.

Grilled cheese sandwiches.  Chicken objects, breaded and deep fried with ranch dressing and ketchup served in those clever little stainless steel shot glasses.  Always a sprig of parsley for fresh breath and digestion enhancement.

A sterling silver tureen overflowing with bills of various denominations will mainstay the entrance to my apartments for the assortment of porters and waitstaff.

Robes and towels will be part of the deal and it goes without saying there won’t be any reason to take them off premise.  My drinking glasses will be enveloped in paper like new every morning and my mini soaps will all be replaced as though elves had visited.

I’ll open my widows at sunset to allow the inevitable Nevada wind to visit its indefatigable will on my papers, linens and drapery while I survey the fine city of my youth.


There will be periodic visits from local dignitaries and heads of the great state of Nevada given that Carson City is the state capitol.  I will dispense advice, provide counsel and offer wisdom.

Channel 8 KOLO will be allowed in my suites to film and interview.  A small parlor will be named after Tad Dunbar.  A monochromatic Barcalounger will be designated the honorary Jack Joseph  Memorial Throne.  The legs of various wooden tables will be known as O’Callaghans.

I actually stayed in the Ormsby House for the very first time on the very last night before it closed some fifteen years ago.  It was a very cold experience lacking any sort of romance or refinement but my vision for its potential was not compromised.

Finally there’s a pill on television that will melt my fat off without me having to do one other goddamn thing besides taking this pill.  I will live forever because of this pill at the very top of the Ormsby House.

No matter what consequences climate change visit upon us, I’ll be riding a mountain bike through the halls, around the gaming tables and through the kitchens until the end of time.

Drinks for my friends.


A Cure For The Common Ammosexual

America has a withering obsession with torsos exploding at the end of a trigger.  Gun nuts.  Ammosexuals.  Racists,  anticipating a race war or dreaming of one.  Actual gun fetishists. I know a few.  Some covet paranoia so much they fantasize about a future war with a tyrannical government that they would lose in about two days.

Jade Helm anybody?

That there’s some derp of biblical proportions.

The malaise of shoot ‘em up and Make My Day is uniquely American.

That shit runs deep in this country.

I understand that there are a lot of gun owners in America who are reasonable and responsible but fuck me if we don’t have a problem.

A few statistics for you:  A gun in the house means that you or a member of your family is twenty two times more likely to die at the end of a gun.  Among all instances when guns are fired during a break in or home invasion only two percent of the time does it result in the intruder being shot.

Guess who gets shot the other ninety eight percent of the time.

There are well over a quarter billion guns in America.  Each year over half a million are stolen, probably from white suburban homes.  The vast majority end up in inner cities.  They end up in the hands of desperate people living in poverty.  Guns in that environment are protein in the recipe for the carnage we’re always getting spewed with.

Hello Chicago.

The problem is one of overwhelming proliferation.

We’re all but inured to the never ending gun violence staining our screens with volume and velocity.

The NRA compels us to accept it as an inevitability.  Nothing can be done.  It’s futile.  The instant access afforded by modern media renders us powerless to escape.  We’ve been connived into it’s just too big of a problem.

Might as well entertain it.

Whatever system in place now is broken and failed with concerted promiscuity.

Guntards are really fucking loud and they are driving.

Maybe we are just plain weary. We were relieved enough by the distraction of the confederate flag imbroglio in South Carolina to resign to its near eclipse of the cold violence of equal gravity.  We can only pick one outrage most days.

For most of us, incentive has left the building.

Banning would be dumb.

We keep shoe bombers off every plane for fuck’s sake.  The incentive to take off our shoes before we board a flight is made of a collective will of people not wanting to die by sudden incineration at thirty thousand feet despite how silly the notion.

I have an idea.

The modern interpretation of the second amendment is flat wrong.  Gun ownership by individual citizens is not a right, it’s a privilege.  A “well regulated militia” in no way guarantees the right of individual ownership.  So, just like driving a car is a privilege as opposed to a right, every gun would be registered with a mandate to carry a license and liability insurance on each firearm owned. Licensing would include a thorough and comprehensive background check in symbiotic collusion with a national database.  Yes, a national data base, like we have for terrorists.  In addition, proof of license, registration and insurance must be available for every purchase of any ammunition.

It’s equitable, sane and rational.  A solution that only excludes whack jobs, the chronically irresponsible and the developmentally challenged.

There is the extra added benefit of leveraging the rampant avarice of the insurance companies against the vulgar greed of weapons manufacturers and lobbyists.

Fight fire with fire, or in this case money with money.

Put the insurance lobby and the gun lobby in a cage and guess who wins.

Ladies and Gentlemen we have incentive.

It wouldn’t solve the problem overnight and probably never by one hundred percent, but over time I predict it would be goddamn effective.

If guns don’t kill people they don’t save people.

We need to regulate people with guns.

Drinks for my friends.

The Unbearable Whiteness of Being

If you have medical insurance and you make less than $50k a year and you still get a bill from the emergency room you should just toss it. I had to visit the emergency room about eight months ago. I was passing a kidney stone and was really only there for the morphine. I wanted to land on a cloud instead of the bathroom floor if I crashed again.

I knew there was nothing else they could do for me.

They did some scans of my torso and gave me an $800 saline drip ( $1.75 wholesale).

Long story short, I got the morphine.

Now I drink lots of cranberry juice and lemon in my water.

So far so good.

I don’t care about that bill. If I ever make any money again I will. If I can’t pay you and I’m not even sure why I owe you, I could not give less of a shit.  The hospital can sue me.  It will still be my go to emergency room if I ever have to go through that again.  It’s really close by.

I live in Los Angeles. If you make less than $50k a year here you should qualify for food stamps. I want a handicapped placard for my rear view on account of my ingrown toenails and sciatica.

I don’t qualify for shit.

It’s not like ever I tried.

I’m your typical liberal.

Lazy and shiftless and just looking for a free ride.

I don’t have a goddamn thing, not on paper at least.

I used to.

A good job, a house, cars.

I didn’t lose my job or my stuff because of the recession. But afterwards it took me a couple years to find something that paid at least a living wage. I had to sell a lot of my stuff.  I had to live with my parents. It’s been a struggle ever since. I’m not complaining. I’m a hell of a lot luckier than millions of other people. I’m a white male with a resume in the best country in the world.

I doubt I’ll ever be able to retire.

We live in amazing times.  We work harder, longer and more efficiently than any other country.  We are afforded less vacation time and sick leave than any other country.  Education and healthcare cost about a ten times more than they used to.  Seriously, a thousand percent more.  Way more than any other country.  I don’t make any more than back then and neither do you.  We can no longer afford either.

Something like half of us are living check to check.

That’s insane.

It’s not sustainable.

This is why we’re fucking nuts.

White people need to stop voting republican and scare this shit out of democrats by overwhelming them.  We simply don’t have time for a third party, it’s too late for that.  White people need to understand that we are no longer the shit in America or be complicit in becoming a third world country.

Acting like it matters in the scheme of things that an immigrant mother gets $12k a year in government subsidies for her seven children is moronic. Standing in front of all the modern horrors we can casually survey everyday and thinking this is worthy of anyone’s attention is moronic. We live in a country that blows people just like her to fucking bits all over the world every day.

Find something meaningful to give a self righteous shit about.

White people can still save us.  But only if we stop worrying about black men running amok and Mexicans raping our women.  Only if we actually realize this isn’t any longer about the color of our skin or the content of our character.

This is not about takers vs. makers.

This is about a concentration of wealth.  Income redistribution but not like on the TV.  The wealthiest one percent have always gotten that way with a leg up and by shitting down the backs of thousands but now they are getting away with too goddamn much.  Power is their crack. They drool and careen behind closed doors, drunk with avaricious obliquity.  These fuckers are out of control.  They hate us.  They’re no longer bothered by what anyone else thinks.  It’s a harbinger.  An omen.

Us white folks used to be somewhat excluded from the military industrial complex, the financial industrial complex and the energy industrial complex leveraging the political industrial complex.  The beginning of the the end of that was Vietnam.  These days it’s rolling over all of us with impunity and without regard to complexion.  These days being fucked is an equal opportunity liability.  Rich people no longer despise the poor and minorities nearly as much as they see the middle class as an inconvenience.  An obstacle not to be gotten over or around, but eliminated.

They disenfranchise voters, craft and pay for the passage of profitable legislation, implement policy and ultimately buy our elected representatives and the very elections in which they run.

It’s a goddamn disaster and they don’t give a mad fuck what color we are.

The quicker we understand that we are no different than anyone else and never have been, the quicker we can get on with what needs to happen next.  We need to get over all this bullshit they would have us spend the rest of our lives in hand wringing self righteous despair of.  They have at least half of us pining and whining to take our country back from the other half by jerking at the strings of a sense of entitlement that is now archaic and obsolete.

Take our country back from what?

From who?

Nobody is coming for your guns, gay people don’t lust after your brats, black men just want a decent job and Latinos wouldn’t mind finally being recognized for how unbelievably fucking hard they work. We don’t all want man caves and nurseries and lawns and cement ponds and fancy eatin’ tables.

We aren’t all the same and we need to stop being distracted by that.

The big secret to equality and justice is one of economics. Racism is a symptom.  Greed is the disease. Class warfare has always been the hallmark of an aspiring plutocracy.

You gotta hand it to them, they swindle us with our own egos.   Rob us blind with fear and gyp us out of our dignity.  White people are kinda new to this.  We really need to catch up.  White people today are indisputable proof that the cancer of absolute power has metastasized absolutely.  We aren’t as bad off as other races yet but it won’t be long.

Yes, we need to take our country back.

From the people who actually took it.

Drinks for my friends.



It Berns

Every time, they say this election is the most important of our lifetime and I’m sure it’s been true of each one.

This one looms and it’s definitely true.

If democrats lose the presidency, we’ll all end up in FEMA camps.

A saw a list a few days ago of top donors for Bernie and Hillary.

Hillary is all banks and Wall Street law firms.

Bernie is all unions.

I’ve said it before, Bernie Sanders is the best presidential candidate of my lifetime.  He’s not perfect I know and I have real reservations.  I honestly don’t give a mad fuck about his foreign policy experience because I realize that the only existential threat to the American way is greed.  ISIS and Iran ain’t got shit on corporate American avarice.  My country tis of thee  isn’t broke at all.  I’m getting tired of pointing this out.  There is plenty of money.  We spend it on the wrong things and give it to the wrong people.

We the people are broke though.  This time it really is the economy stupid.  Inequality is always leveraged by the distribution of capital.  That’s why we have culture wars. There are actual social democracies where earnest students pay little to nothing to study and healthcare is a right.  And they aren’t out of their goddamn minds all the time.

What is working for Bernie now is what will work for him as president.  He stumps and big ass happy crowds show up.  President Sanders will have to continue all anachronistic like FDR and adopt the bully pulpit as policy.  As a tactic.  Without losing stride,  he keeps talking to the people in public all the time.  He has to make the people make him do things and he can only do that if he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing now.

I understand how archaic it is.

He’s a populist, that’s what they do.

Whatever the telegenic euphemism  is. Town Hall.  Webinar.  Cable news.  Keep stumping.  This is where accountability begins with the elected and ends with the electorate.  Bernie Sanders is doing this now.  It’s pretty goddamn cool.

Apoplexy if a republican wins.  Just look at them.  It may or may not get too much worse under plutocrat owned Hillary.  Or we can roll the bones for Bernie, who never squanders an opportunity in front of an audience to say say exactly what he’s saying.

Door number one is Donald Trump or Jeb Bush according to today’s forecast. Door number two is Hillary who gave a big 45 minute speech on the economy the other day that was 43 minutes of generic, pine scented air freshener.  Low calorie pablum almost indistinguishable from Scott Walker’s announcement that same day. Door number three is Bernie Sanders who hasn’t been fucking kidding for over half a century.

We are in a shit storm here and Bernie Sanders is the only one talking only about the biblical proportions of it.  He is the only one talking about what continues to cause it. He actually talks about what happens if we don’t do anything about it.  He is the only one talking about what absolutely must be done about it.

Whether or not Bernie Sanders is electable, whether or not he can prevail over whatever bozo the republicans foist is ultimately up to us.

The fulcrum of the sale rarely rests on reason but almost always reclines on romance.

Drinks for my friends.

It was going to be huge

I am watching the Donald Trump and I am in awe.  I have never heard a man say so much stupid with so much conviction.  So willing to suck his own dick in front of everyone.  He is as absurdly pompous as he presents.  Forcing every  interview into an agenda of toxic racism to riot the willing.

He pisses in the republican pool by  pissing on and pissing off brown people and he’s the most popular bigot at the club.


It’s an early grand finale.  He’s gonna walk away and it will be boring.  I’m sad about it already but I love that the only reason he got in was for the money and of course the auto erotic asphyxiation angle and now it’s actually costing him money and strangling him.

The great unwashed adore him for exactly the same reasons I do.

He’s amazing.

So this sucks.  There is no substitute for the Donald. Who among them can comfortably circus his volume of ego the way he does?  There is no other capable of this noxious dumbfuckery.  It’s a shallow bench without him. No candle power or charisma.

I don’t believe he ever had any intention of becoming president.  He’s probably as amazed as the rest of us that he’s polling in first place in the first place.  All this means is he’s looking to bail even quicker than originally intended.  It’s costing him actual money, his brand is genuinely soiled and he’s getting over on the mouth breathers far better than he anticipated.  There’s a lot more of them than he thought.  He’s understandably afraid of them.  Scary shit for someone so full of himself.

It’s all a crying shame because as the absolute worst person to ever run for president, Donald Trump  is the best environmental disaster to ever contaminate the teabilly ecosystem.  He really is Fukishima for the conservative base.   His public masturbation has a political half life of well over fifty years.  Every month he stays is another reactor melting down and killing potential voters for at least a half century.

Bullies are cowards and he’s going to pull a fade.

The last interesting thing about him will be how much pride he leaves on the floor.


Drinks for my friends.





It’s rich.

I’ll grant you that.

The holy indignation.

It is intrinsically rewarding.

They say the supreme court made a law.  Nope.  They say removing the confederate flag from government houses is a violation of the first amendment.  Nope. They say it’s injection of racism into a historical context of proud heritage.  Complete crap.

The irony, it burns.

I’m a little disappointed though.

The sound of their heads exploding is not quite what I imagined.

I figured it would be louder.

But it’s like grapes imploding.

Sort of gassy.

I was hoping for some fire and brimstone moral turpitude kinda shit.  Maybe some kind of widespread stigmata outbreak or a gang of vampire exorcists descending on unsuspecting heathens with fire hoses gushing holy water.  The crackle of burning flesh and it’s lingering perfume.

But no.

More of the same narcissistic intellectually lazy binary crap about the sanctity of the institution of marriage and the ridiculous pride of an entire region of this country that lost a war a hundred and fifty years ago for the best reason I can possibly imagine.  That stupid goddamn flag represents nothing more than the enslavement, subjugation, oppression, rape and murder of an entire people.

If you’re troubled by conundrums like how is preventing the confederate flag over state houses any different than forcing bakeries to make and sell cakes to gay and lesbian couples for their weddings,  stop reading my shit now and stab yourself in the eye with a fork.  If you’re a redneck teabilly male experiencing any pleasure at all listening to Fuckface von Clownstick rhapsodize bigoted about Mexicans, stop reading my shit now and vigorously scrub your taint with a brick of pumice until you weep out loud.

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

The whole republican field is pathetic.

Mittens is back in I hear.

An equal and opposite reaction.

What we are seeing is act three of our first black presidency.

Act one was denial.

Act two was a more vociferous denial.

They have lost their shame and are feeling fresh.  They shrugged off that brief period when it wasn’t cool to be racist.  None of the republican contenders are even trying.  Not one of them can get out front and call Donald Trump a prick bastard for his racist rants.  There is no decency in Smallville.  They just can’t risk calling Trump a racist ass clown.

Act three.

It’s not worth it.

There are no heroes on this republican bench.


Every single one is the worst possible example of what they say they stand for.

Work with me here because this makes it easy.  You’ve got this woman who has been around forever and has serious gravity and experience.  Sure, she’s compromised but she is regal and serene.  So adept she probably meets with Satan once or twice a week.  And then we have Bernie Sanders.  Bernie knows the devil but so far has not danced with him.  He has not danced with him.  He is not perfect but we can see him.  There is no mystery.  He is consistent.

On the other hand, you have a barn door wide open.  Zealots crashing out with the worst of intentions. All of them phony salesmen of halcyon days that never actually happened. They sell Norman Rockwell but you’ll end up with Ralph Steadman or even worse, Nagel.  They just want you to believe them.  Everyone of them will guarantee you an afterlife whether they believe in it or not.  Before  that, they swear you will prosper financially.  They’re not kidding about that. Just vote for them one more time.

Just one more time.

They all believe in you.

Just one more chance.

It is the fourth of July.  I live in the San Fernando Valley.  I cleaned the shit out of my kitchen.  I stood on my balcony last night and listened to the fireworks exploding all over and tried to imagine it as the same sound all the other people hear in all the other countries where we wage war everyday.

Drinks for my friends.





Confessions Of An Electron Director chapter four

Then there was Joyce.

I never knew her last name or even the spelling of her first.

I don’t think she actually had an official title.

We called her Joycee.

She could neither read nor write.

As a runner, she could make or break you.

If she wasn’t on your side, you were fucked.

She actually carried things on her head all the time in a bright dress.

Joycee was a Jamaican woman of almost indeterminate age and an accent with the viscosity of syrup.   It took me a long week to even begin to understand her.  Medium height with a pronounced pot belly and a deep chuckle.

Despite her latent power she was almost entirely benevolent yet still a powerful ally.

My first day in the magic castle I misunderstood her so completely that I walked straight into the only public women’s bathroom and there stood Sheri Lazerus.  She was adjusting her stretch pants, approaching the mirror and looked at me like I was a serial rapist on fire.

“Wrong door honey”.

My face was hot.  Fuck me I was embarrassed.

I would clean that bathroom for years.

I was off to a brilliant start.

What I understand now is Joycee was directing me to the runners closet next door.

What Joycee did, if she had your back, is cover your ass and keep you from looking stupid.  She could do everything three times as fast and way better.  If you didn’t cross her, if you respected her, she was capable of delivering you into good favor.  She worked hard.  A sweet and kind woman.  We became friends once she decided I wasn’t a fool.  It took some time because I was a fool.  I loaned her a few bucks here and there and never asked for it back.  When her sentence started with “Grant me a favor” in that humid dialect, I knew she was about to hit me up for something.  She sold me shitty Mexican pot now and then.  Occasionally she sent me home with food.  Good food.  I sometimes drove her home in my shitbox VW Bug to an awful and dangerous neighborhood instead of her taking the bus.

She was always happy.  She was almost always smiling.  It was a sad day if she wasn’t.

She ran the grill out behind the studios on Friday afternoons.

She cooked like a mom.

Just about everyone respected, trusted and appreciated her.

We were rarely at odds.  She hated it when I brushed my teeth in the runner’s closet sink.  The same place we washed the dishes for all five studios every night and the fruit for every control room each morning.  She reserved her most furious anger for when the night shift runners would get drunk and high and throw all the dishes away instead of washing them but that’s a story for another chapter.

My favorite memory of Joycee is from one early morning when I was still on the day shift.  It had been one of those nights where all the rooms went down late and the entire complex was in chaos.  I walked in and just about nothing had been done.  The night runners cheesed it.  It was ugly.  The second studio on the right after the lethal door is Stuidio A.  I was late and and probably hungover and  Joycee is already there.  We start picking up trash and collecting dishes.  I go for a cart and come back.  We were loading it up,  filling trash bags back and forth when she makes a happy noise.  I look at her and she is beaming.  In one hand is an ashtray and in the other a big fat Jeff Porcaro kind of roach.

I put on a Toni Childs CD and we fire it up.   All of the sudden it’s an easy Sunday morning on the bridge of a starship.  Beyond the console and a wall of angled glass, is the basketball gymnasium live room lit by a sun that began by banging through the only window in the entire place and down a dark hallway to just then, politely invade the east loading bay doors of Studio A. Everything is fresh and glowing.  Time passes.  We are sharing the record, laughing, singing and dancing a little as we lounge.

I love that record to this day.

Time passes and we’re back on our feet and getting it done because urgency has replaced joy.

The rest of the morning she is beside me and apart from me but we are of the same mind.  Toni Childs in our heads, doing whatever we have to do to make it all acceptable before everyone else sees it.

Saving ourselves.

One day years later, Joycee retired.  We had a big party with presents and food and it was the first and only time I ever saw her cry.  As far as I know she went back to Jamaica to open a restaurant.

It’s the last anyone ever heard of her that I know.

I can still see her and hear her in my head.

I miss her a lot.

Drinks for my friends.