Archive for March, 2007

I think I want to write something. It’s kind of a
pain in the ass though, because I don’t have anything
to say.

We could talk about the uh, Alberto Gonzalez vs.
honest government prosecuters in in leu of Karl with a
‘K’ Rove debacle. It’s actually kind of exciting to
think of that prick Rove being blendered on the stand,
under oath and his little dog Cheney too.

Now that I’ve testified under oath in a federal court,
I’m feeling pretty savvy about the entire judicial
spectrum. I’m an expert. Need me to interpret the
law for ya? Negotiate a contract? Give a key note
address on the constitution? Solve your divorce?

I now comprehend the entirety of the law.

I have mastered this domain.

From now on, whenever legal matters are in play, I’m
to be referred to as “The Shit”.

I’ve consulted with a tailor and robes are being
fashioned.

Among the privileges I’ve seen fit to bestow upon
myself:

1) I can now literally waltz (and I will) into any
court of law and pronounce judgement on the case being
tried.

2) I’m allowed to assail and strike anyone in the
courtroom. Whether it be plaintiff or defendent,
juror or judge, bailiff or custodian. I will invoke
this right with great vengeance and violence and without
hesitation.

3) My personal realm of jurisprudence will extend to
all corners of the earth, it’s oceans and the media.
I can, and will intervene whenever and wherever I feel
it necessary. Look for me on TV bitch slapping
various celebrity lawyers like Nancy Grace and that
dickhead who defended Scott Peterson.

Here’s a few other things I’ve mastered:
The art of recording a drumkit.
Chopsticks. Kinda.
How to clean a bathroom pretty fuckin fast.
I just committed to a monthly donation to the ASPCA.
Just now. Really.
Shopping at the 7-11. Go ahead, ask me if they have
it.
I also commited to a coffee table I found on craig’s
list…….
Arguing with wine clerks. Saint Nick wanted a little
rematch tonight I guess.
Cats. As much as one can.
Grazing instead of any proper dinner.
Mac & cheese.
Oh well, recording just about anything.
International commerce and computer
forensics/diagnostics.
Nano technology.
Sandwiches. Seriously. Not as good as Sean but.
Distinguishing between good and bad, right and wrong
and one of these things is not like the other.
Judging character.
There’s just something about Laura Diaz on channel 2.
She’s an insipid Barbie Doll with a pull string tied
to a loop hidden by her bra strap, but well, sorry.

Ok, Let’s move on.

Imagine four corners filled by the following. A
middle aged catholic wine abusing woman, an early
thirties Mexican American and all around sports
enthusiast, a six foot four, middle thirties mildly
bipolar sonafabitch who actually does that fantasy
leaugue stuff, whatever that is, and me. The three (besides me) following March Madness by the fucking second.

Me, not so much.

We all eat lunch together. Needless to say, far too
much of our mealtime interaction and conversation is
dominated by this vapid detritus. I mention Rove may
have to testify under oath and the three of us who
don’t give a mad fuck about March madness search each
others faces while they discuss the demise of Duke and
speculate on the outcome of UCLA vs. Kansas.

I watched the end of that game by the way. I gather
that UCLA has a penis that is aprox. 1/16th of an inch
longer than that of Kansas. I never would have
thought that a city could be better hung than a state.

I also watched the end of that Ohio vs. Tennessee
game. Interesting that although the outcome was as
leak proof as a duck’s ass, the stands were at least a
third empty.

Mirth burgeoned in my chest as I realized I wasn’t the
only American who didn’t really care despite being
entertained by a brief glimpse of the contest.

It didn’t take long for me to understand, with my
newfound judicial prowess and abundant epiphanies
involving college basketball, that I was indeed better
than everyone else. This comforts me.

Drinks for my friends.

Good-bye Joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh
Me gotta go pole the pirogue down the bayou
My Yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and file’ gumbo
‘Cause tonight I’m gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou

Thibodeaux, Fontainenot, the place is buzzin’
Kinfolk come to see Yvonne by the dozen
Dress in style and go hog wild, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and file’ gumbo
‘Cause tonight I’m gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou

Settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue
And I’ll catch all the fish in the bayou
Swap my mon to buy Yvonne what she need-o
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and file’ gumbo
‘Cause tonight I’m gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou

Hank Williams Sr. “Jambalaya”

***********************************************************************

Sometimes, I just can’t countenance the randomness of
life.

I mean, why is the matter of Iraq even a debate?

What are we doing?

We have Darfur.

Before that, Rwanda.

Around the same time, Kosovo and Croatia.

There, we chose to intervene. Perhaps ten thousand
white people.

In Rwanda, close to a million.

Darfur, hundreds of thousands.

HERE’S THE DEAL.

We have as much control over the natural resources and
industry in those two African countries as we desire
at this point.

Our powers that be, the American crucible, decided
long ago that they cannot afford to have
another entire continent sucking at the tit of what
little milk mother earth has left.

So we ignore them. Take what we need, sprinkle
antibiotics on the corrupt governments so they can
sell them on the black market while we take more of what we
need.

We allow the Catholic church to forbid condoms, while
the people procreate and then die of sexually transmitted
disease.

Let’s be honest here; distribute condoms and tell
them how to use them if you want to at least begin
saving them.

But no. Our alleged morals prevent us from promoting
promiscuity.

What are we doing?

It’s fucking sick.

************************************************************************

We obsess over vacuous bimbos most likely blond. One
dead and the other imploding and unable to keep her
cooch away from a camera lense.

We simply, have no idea whatsoever.

As we live and contemplate our next purchase, there
are children that lack the strength to keep flies out
of their mouths. Worms emerge from their extremities
with excruciating pain . These people are sick and
death surrounds them. They suffer beyond our capacity
to imagine.

What are we doing?

And in our own country. We incarcerate more people
per capita than any nation on earth.

A storm, a massive storm, slammed our gulf region and
the damage and the people remain without solace. They
are forgotten in our own country.

Our veterans from a bullshit war, a war based on lies
that has done nothing more than make every aspect of
every angle look look foolish and greedy, our soldiers,
now languish in their own urine.

Dick-in Bush began their tenure as thespians on the world stage with Attorney General and freakshow John Ashcroft. Kept his penis in a Gerber babyfood jar on the nightstand and was genuinely offended by the naked breast of a one hundred year old statue. He walked.

Our aronists laureate replaced him with a good soldier. One wannabe member of the Fourth Reich named Alberto R. Gonzales.

And just today, we learn that Dick-in-Bush floated an idea that would have had U.S. Attorney General Gonzales fire all 93 U.S. attorneys and replace them with more like minded sycophantic cronies. Are you fucking serious?

Yes, I am.

The biggest thorn in the side of this administration thus far, and it ain’t saying much, has been an independent judiciary. Hardly independent after the highest court in the land handed the 2000 presidential election to a gibbon in a suit in a decision that was completely outside their jurisdiction. I mean, when it comes to procedural matters regarding voting, it’s clearly an issue of state’s rights. Why has no one else raised an objection based on this?

Seriously. I came up with that on my own. Never heard it anywhere else.

You all now owe me a can of beer. Cold.

As a result, eight were fired. Seven in the same day. For “poor performance”.

Today Alberto’s chief of staff, D. Kyle Sampson, walked away. Big suprise. He resigned because he is aware of just how far off the cliff the story is likely to go. Say…….plunging. I’m going with plunging.

Boys and girls, this is the judicial branch of our government we’re talking about here. The check to the balance. The deliberate erosion of such an institution will surely coincide with the atrophy of our republic. It is the last bulwark we have as a free people against
tyranny.

It’s sick.

What are we doing?

The ideas of truth and justice in this country have now become mere concepts. Both, archaic and obsolete.

************************************************************************

We have failed.

As a society.

As a country.

As a people.

We have failed.

This is really bad. We walk away. We play the lotto.
We watch reality TV. We suck.

Who’s paying attention? How often are we thinking
about this?

As I sit and type, our arsonists laureate plan the next conflagration. They replace the letter ‘Q’ with the letter ‘N’ and off we go.

What are we doing?

Thanks for indulging me……………..

Drinks for my friends.

Now they’re planning the crime of the century

Well what will it be?

Read all about their schemes and adventuring

It’s well worth a fee

So roll up and see

And they rape the universe

How they’ve gone from bad to worse

Who are these men of lust, greed, and glory?

Rip off the masks and let’s see.

But that’s not right – oh no, what’s the story?

There’s you and there’s me

That can’t be right

Supertramp “Crime Of The Century”

What are we doing?

Speaking Friday at the annual Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) in Washington, D.C., Coulter closed her remarks with: “I was going to have a few comments on the other Democratic presidential candidate, John Edwards, but it turns out you have to go into rehab if you use the word ‘faggot,’ so I – so kind of an impasse, can’t really talk about Edwards.”

This, from the same woman who, when commenting on her percieved latent homosexuality of Bill Clinton said “I don’t know if he’s gay. But Al Gore – total fag.”

Thanks Ann. I’m so grateful that you were able to frame the debate for us in such a way as to make it crystal fucking clear that all three individuals, their contributions to society, their intellectual prowess and their goodwill, are all rendered obsolete by your profoundly spurious assertion that they are gay.

You see, I’m quite sure that Ms. Coulter is the right wing equivalent of Andrew Dice Clay. It’s schtick. Dice admitted that his misogyny was an act. Coulter has yet to own her bigotry, homophobia and otherwise incendiary rhetoric as anything other than genuine. Perhaps it’s funny to the uptight diamond crapping rednecks and lone wolf Dick-in-Bush supporters, I don’t know. I stopped laughing a long time ago.

This simian phalanged cunt has done nothing more than pollute the once fairly pure waters of public discourse to the point where this sort of thing is not seen for what it is, but is rather held by conventional wisdom to be um , funny.

What a shame. What a goddamn shame.

The same woman who barked, with her overtly masculine adam’s apple bobbing in her freakishly elongated neck, “These broads are millionaires, lionized on TV and in articles about them, reveling in their status as celebrities and stalked by grief-arazzis. I’ve never seen people enjoying their husbands’ deaths so much.” She was of course, talking about 9/11 widows.

Again, thanks Ann. Bitchcunt.

I don’t doubt that someday the contents of Ms. Coulter’s closet will be revealed and we will then be treated to all manner of nefarious fuckery. There will likely be proof that she is indeed genetically male and the progeny of chimpanzees.

Either that or her secrets will remain with her to the grave and she will die prematurely from the sheer strain of holding those evil waters inside.

Really what it’s about is ignoring her. It’s simple. Ignore her. She’s chumping both sides. Schtick. We hate her, they love her. We are wrong and so are they.

Change the channel.

Drinks for my friends.