Archive for July, 2007

I am sick to death of all the excuses. Not feasible. Too much of a distraction. We don’t have the votes. I am afraid. It’s too much of a longshot and what about the backlash if we fail? Do I look fat?

Impeach them now and start with Cheney.

Our Founding Fathers faced far more formidable odds. They didn’t question whether it was doable. They had no choice because their collective conscience wouldn’t allow them to do anything but what was right.

The leaders of the civil rights movement faced incredibly vicious opposition and it was never a factor in their motivation to pursue justice. If anything, they were emboldened by it because it was proof of their righteousness.

Our executive leader and vice executive have clearly and consistently violated what is probably the most important document and system of beliefs ever produced, consented and adhered to by humankind.

I’m talking about The Constitution of The United States of America.

The fight against them them should be tireless, indefatigable, focused and unswerving. Instead we are are told that it’s not an appropriate time and it may be politically inconvenient to storm the fortress these arrogant men of lust, greed and glory hide inside of.

Are you kidding me?

History is filled with people who fought for the right thing, regardless the chances of prevailing. Despite personal risk of even death. The blood that has been spilled in defense of these concepts would fill the very chambers our elected representatives work in every day to the point where it would erupt from every window and door in every office building on capitol hill like a gusher of oil powerful enough to blacken the sky.

Tyranny is simply not acceptable and tyranny is what we have.

Tyranny: arbitrary or unrestrained exercise of power; despotic abuse of authority. -dictionary.com

Now you tell me, Mrs. Pelosi, Mr. Reid, Mrs. Feinstein, Mrs. Boxer and Mr. Conyers, what are you waiting for? What about you, Mr. Specter or you Mr Leahy? Is it just not a good time? Are you afraid you might not prevail?

Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Obama, are you too busy with your campaigns to participate in what future generations may very well judge to be the tipping point in America’s history? The point where too few did too little and our once great nation was allowed by virtue of your inaction to slide into chaos , perpetual war and perpetual raping of economies and ecosystems for the avarice of the few?

The inevitable conclusion finds the Earth a scorched and radioactive cinder that orbits the sun for thousands of years doing it’s damndest as a mother to repair the damage and never produce offspring as terrible and destructive as human beings again.

Wouldn’t you rather wake up one morning knowing you at least tried to do what was right as opposed to doing nothing because you were afraid?

Or that it wasn’t convenient?

The great unwashed are awake. In ever increasing numbers they are asking, demanding, that you put petty business aside and do the right thing on behalf of them that put you there.

Fear is an excellent force multiplier, if you continue to do nothing, it will at the very least, bite you in the ass. If you’re not careful, it will leave you in a desperate wake.

WE THE PEOPLE implore you to stop this.

Further reading

Now go here and do the right thing.

As most of you know, I enjoy working a little blue. You know, rampant vulgarity to shithammer my point home? I restrained myself this time while trying to provide for those of you who can’t be bothered to construct sentences and stuff.

I would be proud if you followed that last link from Josh and sent the text as it appears above to your elected representatives. If not, I would still be pleased if you took advantage of the very articulate ones Josh has been kind enough to provide.

Promise to look for me when I go missing……….

Drinks for my friends.

I’m pretty sure nougat is that stuff underneath the
peanuts and caramel in a Snickers bar. I just saw a
commercial with a cutaway of an actual Snickers bar.

Cutaways rock. Remember those ones of the Nina the
Pinta and the Santa Maria? Or a submarine? Remember
those life size plastic torsos with removable organs?

Anyway.

Everybody ok?

Good.

I like soup. The trortilla soup at CPK blows my skirt
up. Today I had the soup and the mixed green salad
with pears and walnuts. For five bucks I added
gorganzola AND shrimp.

I sat at the bar.

I had a glass of Nobilo sauvignon blanc.

I read the La Weekly and Valley Beat or whatever it’s
called. I wondered about all the pot clinics busted
this week and the ubiquitous ads they had already paid
for.

Prior to that I dropped off my preamp with a bad
capacitor and a ridiculously expensive CD player at
the house of my audio dealer for repair. I also go
to therapy and wine tastings.

I’m one metrosexual that can kick yer fuckin ass.

I love going to this guys house. We turned out the
lights in the kitchen and watched the commie capacitor
arc in my naked preamp.

The Fish thinks we engage in dick mingling.

He can be a little cranky and he admonished me for not
knowing that preamp tubes don’t need to be biased.

Then we went down to the listening room. You should
see this room.

I’m a former studio rat and I liked my control room
cold and dark-the better to see all the pretty lights
on all the pretty gear and for me to stay alert.

Being the geek that I am, I’m always aware immediately
upon entering a room that’s had some acoustic
treatment. No weird reflections and an overall
anechoic effect. Odd harmonics at a minimum, you know.

Then there’s the gear. There’s a tube power amp on
the floor that I swear looks like a small block V8.
Four tubes exposed in their sockets on either side at
a forty five degree angle. Power chords as thick as
your wrist snake around the wooden floor.

Angular, pretty slabs of sophisticated electronics and really ugly stuff that wouldn’t be out of place in a mid twentieth century typing pool.
Like that ad agency where Darrin from Bewitched worked.

Dali Megalines, beautiful cabinetry, at least eight
feet tall, like fifteen drivers in each side. Ribbon
tweeters flanking what looks to be six inch cones
all the way down.

You should see these fucking speakers.

Elliot played me some Janis Ian on vinyl once on those
Dalis. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d
ever heard in my life. A gorgeous recording, rendered
three dimensional with all the texture and nuance my
brain had the capacity to distinguish. Awesome.

I love sound. I used to get paid for making it. I
own a pair of Dalis. Not the eight footers though.

Before that I got a haircut.

The same woman has been cutting my hair for almost
twenty years. There was a couple handfuls of Carson
City hopefuls in this big city back in the day and she
cut us all.

I’m the last one.

I see her once a month. I’d prefer every three weeks
but she’s semi retired and has two kids. She once
told me that “a vacation is a drink in your hand and
something pretty to look at”.

We talk about politics, who I’m banging if anyone, the
last time she was “on the pot”, whatever. I adore
her. I wonder if she knows how much I like getting my
hair cut in that bustling little shop.

Every once in awhile I show up hungover. Before she’s
done she let’s me know that she knows. Her name is
Suzanne. She’s a very good woman.

Before that I made time to read, have a smoke and
people watch at the Starbucks across the street.

There are two adorable and petite young barristas, one
white and one black, that always try to have my venti iced
coffee and venti iced water at the register by the
time I make it there to pay.

Before that I looked on craigslist for cool furniture;
I scored an awesome coffee table once. After that I sent
messages to a few hookers in hopes they’d write me
back.

I took a shower.

I woke up around nine but had seven minute dreams for
the next hour between mashings of the snooze button.
I only set an alarm cause I had to get a goddamn
haircut.

Your government is lying to you about everything.

Drinks for my friends.

I sat down with the idea of taking my turn beating the
crap out of our thoroughly disgraced and shamefully
pompous attorney general. He was embarrassing. It
was aggravating to watch. What a complete dickhead.

What I’m about to say may shock you.

So what?

Without a doubt, this guy is a fucking clown. He’ll
lose his job, be publicly disgraced and fade into the
ether. After a time he’ll land some six or seven
figure gig and none if it will matter, at least not
to him.

Today at least, I feel I have bigger fish to fry.

So, I was gathering steam, CNN was on in the
background, sound very low, as is my wont. A story
appeared that has been tugging at my rage for a few
days and I just couldn’t let it go any longer. It’s
an issue that is very close to my heart. The story
was about one Michael Vick and the “sport” of dog
fighting.

I could not stand to watch even fifteen seconds.

I’ve always regarded the idea that what separates
humans from animals is the ability to reason, as a
rather obtuse one. If that were true, my cat wouldn’t
consistently shit in the designated shit box, dogs
would spend all day looking for the food bowl and
gorillas wouldn’t gain remarkable proficiency in
things like sign language.

For a while, I held that the difference between us and
them is simply art. Creativity and an impetus or
inspiration for the aesthetic. Then some chimp
painted or something and I realized that my cat at the
the time had a sense of humor.

So much for that.

For some time now, I’ve owned that what indeed is the
distinction between human and animal, is innocence.
They have it in as pure and pristine a form as
exists. We do not. We are born with it, but by the
time we learn to walk, it has already begun to
atrophy.

Now, I don’t know if this guy is guilty or not, but it
sure looks like it. It occurred on his property,
under the guise of a business he owned, a kennel run
by both he and his relatives.

I don’t know that he did it. I didn’t even know who
he was until the story broke last week. I’m willing
to wait to find out.

If convicted, he faces as much as six years in prison,
a loss of some twenty five million dollars in annual
income and public humiliation.

Ha, motherfucker. Not nearly enough. Not even close. If this man
is guilty, there is no ring of hell appropriate for
such a human piece of shit.

I would suggest he deserves far more than to taste his own
blood. If his guilt is proven, I would recommend a
beat down with crowbars, baseball bats and claw
hammers until near death. Then, let him heal. Once he’s
ambulatory, repeat. And repeat. Over, and over, and
over again. I’d be happy to participate.

I am not fucking kidding.

You see, humans at least have the capacity to
understand what’s happening to them in any given
shitstorm. All animals know is pain and fear and they
don’t know why.

A similiar story comes on Anderson Cooper 360 as I
write this. I cannot watch it. I change the channel.

How could any human participate in such a barbaric and
elaborately premeditated undertaking? It would have
to be a being in possession of an entirely dark soul.
One utterly lacking compassion and decency. One
abundant in cruelty and viciousness. Depraved.
Stinking and rotting.

Domesticated animals, if provided with the merest
modicum of care and affection respond with
unconditional love.

This man if guilty, is culpable of more than violent
vivisection, he is responsible for robbing potentially
loving animals of their innocence and therefore, their
souls.

If he’s guilty, then fuck this piece of shit. No fate
is bad enough. A stain on humankind.

I would gleefully dance on a man’s head and sing, were that man just stupid enough to abuse an animal in front of me.

Try me.

Drinks for my friends.

Um, the debates are on.

Edwards is talking the populist talk. I admit it’s
sweet to my ears. I never disliked this guy and I
don’t give a mad fuck about how rich he is.
Presidents are rich. They always have been.

Kucinich burns bright too. Conviction and by far the
best voting record on the stage. I really like the
little paste eater-vegan, with the well over six foot
bride half his age, bright red hair and a tongue
ring.

My chances of dinner in the White House probably at
least double if the first lady has a pierced tongue.

He’s not stupid, he knows that the most important
thing is not to end up a fart in a whirlwind. And
he’s comported himself with dignity and aplomb. When
they let him talk, he let’s fly with the most progressive, courageous AND logical assessments of any of the candidates.

The man is the shit.

Obama and Clinton run with ease out front. Smooth and
composed; not even breathing hard yet. They’re both
happy to be who they are and what they are. A woman
and a black man running number one and two in a race
with a still distant finish.

Biden’s sharp and he has nice teeth. Sincere and
compassionate on Darfur, eminently qualified in matters of foreign policy and military logistics. Bright guy but he has a big mouth. He still has the most logical political policy ideas for Iraq.

None of them really suck.

Kucinich just answered in favor of reparations for
African Americans. Good for him.

Bullshit though.

You can’t throw money at a problem like this so recklessly. Make it better.

Cardinal Mahoney just did that here in LA. He gave over 650 people over a million dollars each because most of them took it in
the ass or in the mouth as children from figures they
were compelled to respect no matter what.

This guy Mahoney fucking sucks.

If Mahoney had a spine he would have devoted his
energy to fixing the fucking problem instead of
scrambling for a decade to obfuscate and cover.

Ladies and gentlemen, a human turd. A massive, sticky bloody stain
on catholicism, christianity and organized religion.

Forgive me, I digress.

So, the solution to racism and inequality in this
country is not money thrown in front of a fan. It is about
spending more than would end up in each individual’s
pocket on policies and programs.

It sounds liberal and utopian, I know. But I’m talking about the difference between feeding a man once or teaching him to fish.

At the end of the day, reparations are a band-aid.
Look at how effective cold cash was for The Native
Americans.

Nope. Fix it. Get brave. Implement.

Anyway:

Dodd is sharp. He does well on Katrina.

Richardson fumbles it a little. Yet he’s sincere.

Clinton, Edwards and Obama spend a lot of time pussy
stepping around each other.

By the way, this format is genius. Excellent
questions. It makes me very curious about what sort
of blunderbuss the repuglicans will be stepping in front of.

Most of them would have tripped on their dicks by now.
See, they’re stupid and dogmatic. It’s a weakness.

Sorry, had to throw that in.

Edwards did well with a query about the affect his
faith would have on policy. This guy is very good.

Cooper fires a nice one about the difference between
civil rights and the rights of gays.

Obama rocks it pretty good when he posits leaving the religious
question up to individual denominations but insisits,
all states adopt parity in laws dealing with with
civil rights, marriage and sexual orientation.

For what it’s worth, I have long maintained that the issue of gay rights is very simply an issue of civil rights.

ON IRAQ:

Biden strives to be realistic. I admire that. He does know this shit.

Hillary is once again, sleek. She talks about trying
to win repuglicant support since the election. She
does well in acknowledging that there is no military
solution. She drops the ball when she reaches out to
the flat earthers though.

Methinks it’s time to run them the fuck over. Public
will is on your side. What are you waiting for?
Understand, we are waiting on you.

If republicans had a gallon of juice left, it would all be over except the shouting. All the people on the stage would do well to own that fact.

So, Kucinich swings hard and connects. His answer is
don’t give them anymore goddamn money. He is right.

HE is RIGHT. This mouse roars.

Horsepower to torque to pavement.

Work with me here.

I must admit, I like these guys (including Hillary). They all appear to be more or less genuine, at least in the context of the contemporary politician.

They’re kicking the shit out of the repugnicants in fund raising and that’s a good sign.

Yet, it’s also quite ominous. Particularly in the the instances of Hillary and Obama, it tells us that behind the curtain, they are both fervently engaged in a 69 with big pharma and big oil. It’s that sort of symbiotic relationship with the dark side that leads to – meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

It wasn’t that long ago that Hills had her ass handed to her over an admittedly far too convoluted national health care plan by one of those very beasts.

She cannot hope to craft and implement a fair and efficacious universal health care policy if she’s remains that carnally connected. Same goes for Obama.

The Kennedy’s tried that shit and ended up dead.

There may be a light at the end of this long dark tunnel, but I worry about the size of the opening.

We may just be lucky enough to end up with the lesser of two evils in our legislative and executive branches. I hope we don’t screw this pooch.

Even if we don’t, it’s like getting a record deal; that’s when the real work begins. If we end up with a Democratic President, the odds still wouldn’t favor us.

Vigilance won’t be obsolete anytime soon.

Drinks for my friends.

A lot going on. I’ve been busy. Shall we review the douchebaggery visited upon us this week?

ITEM ONE:

The very same federal judge and greasy bastard that
forbade us from even a glimpse at Cheney’s energy task
force documents, dismissed the suit brought by
COVERT CIA AGENT Vallerie Plame Wilson against
Dick-in-Bush et al.

He essentially said that although the behavior of the
White House was “unsavory” when it smeared Joe and
Vallerie Wilson for telling the truth, it was “within
the scope of defendants’ duties as high-level
Executive Branch officials.”

-Quotes from truthout.org

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

A can of Pabst for the first mouth breather to
share with us who appointed said greasy bastard.

His name, John Bates of the US District Court in
Washington, DC.

He worked for that lizard Ken Starr too, on Whitwater,
of course. No big suprise that he was successful in
arguing for the release of a cornucopia of documents
from Hillary at the time. Pat Leahy said “When that
guy was working for Ken Starr, he wanted to go open
the dresser drawers of the White House, I guess it’s a
lot different when it’s a Republican vice president.”

-Quotes from truthout.org

I really loathe these pricks.

ITEM TWO:

Harriet Miers faces the withering spotlight of
‘inherent contempt’ after refusing to show up for a
subpeona issued by a congressional committee. She
chose to ditch the proceedings because Dumbya super super promised her she didn’t have to come and she wouldn’t get in trouble.

Apparently, the Sergeant-at-Arms can arrest her.

I worked in my state legislature for awhile. The arms
of our Sergeants were pretty short. Just long enough
to stuff donuts in their faces and still behave with
some degree of composure. Most of them were in highschool and without any swimming with the knife in your teeth experience.

I’m pretty sure the D.C. version isn’t a helluva lot
more formidable.

I wouldn’t exactly anticipate anal leakage as a
result of an olestra saturated conscience if I were
you.

Maximum penalty is twelve months and a thousand bucks.

If the full force of the law were brought to bear,
it wouldn’t be a bad plate of shrimp to
a sycophant like Miers.

You know she wouldn’t do any time. She’d definitely rather pay
the fine than fill her granny panties with the pungent
liquid stool of truth.

Not so withering a light after all. What it is, is a candle. That could drip wax on your end table. Worse case scenario, the family pet dances for thirty seconds thinking “Hot HOT HOT!”

ITEM THREE:

“Bush administration officials unveiled a bold new
assertion of executive authority yesterday in the
dispute over the firing of nine U.S. attorneys, saying
that the Justice Department will never be allowed to
pursue contempt charges initiated by Congress against
White House officials once the president has invoked
executive privilege.” You’ve really got
to read this.*** I guess my space is not happy with my link-Washington Post, July 20 “Broader Privilege Claimed In Firings”***

I abhor this administration’s sociopathic predilection
for blanketing the judiciary with bogus get out of
jail free cards on behalf of any and every crony that
would otherwise be forced to tell us the fucking
truth.

ITEM FOUR:

The dickhead republican minority in the senate
thwarted an attempt, via fillibuster, to hold
Dick-in-Bush to a timetable for withdrawl from Iraq. Despite some 70% percent of WE THE PEOPLE calling for it and it being
more than a little hypocritically disingenuous in
light of the “nuclear” option they had such a hard on for just a
few years ago over various federal judicial and SCOTUS
nominees.

Shameless Dickheads.

“The Republican leadership has established hurdles and
blockades, everything they can find to stop us from a
vote that reflects the feelings of the American
people. You know why? They’re afraid of what the
American people want. They’re afraid the American
people might prevail.”

– Senator Dick Durbin (D-Illinois)

Hard to believe that there are still so many flat
earthers in our legislative branch when even a casual
assessment reveals how obviously fucked up is every last thing.

ANYWAY:

Not long ago, Dumbya bragged about the political
capital he’d amassed as a result of the slimmest
margin ever earned by an incumbent president. He
practically swaggered as he boasted of how he
intended to spend it.

Now he’s too broke to pay attention; it’s not as
though he ever has anyway.

Before it’s over he will have spent over a trillion
dollars and a million lives. What an asshole. What a
criminal.

WHAT A DICKHEAD.

Congress now has an abundance of horsepower, it is supplied
by the will of the no longer somnambulant WE THE
PEOPLE. It remains to be seen if they possess the
wherewithal to convert it into torque and put it on pavement.

We need to remind them that outside, it’s
America.

And the killing and dying goes on and on and on.

Drinks for my friends.

There is seldom more dangerous a thing than a stupid and misgiuded man who still has the courage of his convictions. When such a man is the leader of our country and by what is now a cruel default, the free world, you can bet your ass “We the people” are in serious trouble.

What are we going to do? Can we afford another sixteen months of this lawless and compassionless chaos? Our narrow eyed idiot leader thinks he’s doing God’s work. He says he talks to God, God talks to him and that is his unassailable consent to do as he pleases.

I must confess that even to this day, I don’t believe George W. Bush is a bad guy. Stupid? Yes. Perhaps even midly retarded, if only as a result of alcohol and cocaine abuse. Yet, I’d have few drinks with him. Enjoy myself while making fun at his expense; him none the wiser, of course. Sue me, poking fun at the willfully ignorant or just plain mentally challenged is a hobby of mine. I can’t help it, and really, they don’t know.

Now, am I of the opinion that everyone behind him is evil? Well, that’s an emphatic and adamant, Are You Fucking Kidding Me? Rove and Cheney are so black of heart and soul that light struggles to reflect off of their nearly hairless crowns. I sometimes wonder if they show up so infrequently in the media and on television because the cost of lighting their ugly and twisted visages is too exorbitant for all but the richest right wing media conglomerates.

I really hate those pricks.

Yesterday, we learned that the White House, which allows no light to escape, tirelessly invoked executive privilege yet again over d o c u m e n t s pertaining to the death of Patrick Tillman. Remember the lantern jawed member of the NFL that selflessly sacrificed his life for his country? A new low.

All reptiles have spines don’t they? Just exactly how does a vertebrate dance the Limbo so expertly? I mean, they’ve moved the bar so low that single celled organisms struggle to squeeze under it.

Labelling this latest act of douchebaggerry “Orwellian” insults the author. This is “Tales From The Crypt”. It is the stuff of fucking comic books. Shitty ones for nine year olds. With lots of places for you to color however you want.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Just one day before this, we learn Dumbya has ordered Harriet Miers, perhaps the least qualified individual to ever be nominated to the Supreme Court and former White House counsel, not to appear in front of the house judiciary committee after being subpoenaed to testify about the so far completely unexplained firings of eight federal prosecutors.

Apparently, not a single person in the entire Dick-in-Bush administration can remember who fired these people or why.

Gonzales, the now titular head of the DOJ, can’t remember a goddamn thing. He stinks. Forgive me, but this motherfucker stinks. He wears carp guts. His pockets runneth over with chum. Torture, illegal wiretapping, firing prosecutors who couldn’t find dirt on Democrats for voter fraud, he’s been there for all of it. All of it. He thinks the Geneva Conventions are “quaint”.

The day before that, Sara M. Taylor, former White House political director, answered whatever the fuck she felt like and didn’t answer whatever the fuck she didn’t feel like, after being subpoenaed by the same committee.

“In light of the president’s direction, I will answer faithfully those questions that are appropriate for a private citizen to answer, while also doing my best to respect the president’s directive that his staff’s communication be privileged.”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Also, on the day before yesterday, Dumbya admitted for the very first time, that “somebody” in his administration leaked the name of covert CIA operative Vallery Plame to the press, but whatever, it’s time to “move on”.

All in the last week dear reader.

I have an idea. It’s called impeachment.

Nixon, all arrogant and sloppy, covered up a burglary. Mr. Clinton got what I’m guessing was a pretty good and maybe even rockstar style hoovering, wiped his sword on the young woman’s dress and covered it up. Albeit, briefly.

We’ll be at a million dead here pretty soon. The number of those not dead but still pretty fucked goes up every day too.

I really fucking hate these guys.

Drinks for my friends.

Tonight’s offering was gonna be this horror piece I’ve been working on, but instead it’s a conversation between me and my pal Timmy. I actually cut and pasted it for you because I’m a loser.

TIMMY:
i need hooch im startin to shake over here and my teeth are yellow whitish i need em purple …STAT.
im gonna go drink some cough syrip

ME:
Actually, just went through my stash, and I have no Pejut merlot. I think that box in my office has some. It’s right inside the door-let’s check tommorrow.

TIMMY:
good im out of nyquil

ME:
Dude, just steal some from the 7-11.

TIMMY:
stealing is wrong

ME:
Who told you that?

TIMMY:
the bible. and jesus aint no liar he says thats bad to but i here fucking a virgin girl in the pooper is ok by him and he turns water into wine …hero

ME:
You know, he’s my kinda guy. He cavorted with whores.

TIMMY:
so does that mean there are whores at church?
maybe ive been looking at this religion shit all wrong
i love jesus

ME:
Of course you do my son. Get thee to to the services on Sunday. Seek the harlots. You’ll have to shower and that t-shirt you wear for weeks on end won’t fly.

TIMMY:
hey i shower and i change my t-shirt daily the pants kinda stay the same for weeks but fuck it my legs dont sweat htat much and it aint like im free ballin..im church material damn it . amen

ME:
Yes my son, you are. I gotta get a towel for my passenger seat, remind me. Least you’ve stopped pickin yer nose so much.

TIMMY:
get a towel for your passenger seat. there i reminded you . and i pick my nose all day at work while conteplating what a grape nut is so by the time i get in your car im out of boogers and i still dont know what the hell a grape nut is there are no nuts in grapes yet you can buy boxes full of the fucking things it makes no sence .what the fuck is a grape nut

ME:
Nevermind. They’re for smart people. I’m gonna make you wash your hands before the ride home from now on.

Think harder about breakfast foods like Pop Tarts or Fruity Pebbles. You won’t be nearly as confused. Concentrate on the various iterations of the now ubiquitous Egg McMuffin.

Better yet, have coffee. Helps ya poop.

TIMMY:
dude are you speaking english? what the hell man.
pop tarts are mear pastries though if you take a frosted one and stuff it in your toaster and tape the button trigger thing down 4-5 foot flames will shoot out the top of your toaster ,try it go and hit up a thrift store for a toaster and grab an extention cord and some tape and dot forget the frosted poptarts i like strawberry ..then make your neighbors say “do you smell burning poptarts?”

what the hell is a grape nut

ME:
Ok. Here’s the deal. Grape Nuts have been around forever and they’re called that because they were sweetened with sugar from grapes. Um, there was this guy, Euell Gibbons who did the commercials in the 70’s. I think he looked like Orville Redenbacher.

So, let it go. These things are so easily solved. See?

Now, we should get together and put Estes “D” size model rocket engines in a thrift store toaster.

I can fund this if we do it at your place.

Did you know you can make a bomb from non-dairy creamer? It’s flammable as fuck.

TIMMY:
no we need hot wheels match box cars and rocket engines ive done it before when i was a kid ,almost set a feild on fire ,good times
ah ha grape sugar who would have thought.

so how does on make a bomb from non dairy creamer ,do i just dump it in a coffee can with a wick and duct tape the hell out of it light it and run like hell?
if so im doing it

ME:
Yeah, that’ll work. Buy the cheapest powder you can find. I’m thinking Costco. Disclaimer though, I’ve never tried that, I only know it burns fast, I’ve set alot of that stuff on fire in recording studios.

You gotta find that combustive power versus strength of container ratio. You know, the more volatile fuel combined with the a shell of higher structural integrity always yields more bang for your pyromaniacal tendencies.

Don’t know where store bought NDC fits the math.

Should be pretty fucking combustible.

I tell ya, the idea of rocket engines in a toaster has a certain allure. Can we leave this possibility on the table? I’m thinking we should serve malt liquor with an entree of this nature.

TIMMY:
im just gonna do some trial and error with the non dairy bomb and eventualy i will blow some thing up.

if there is beer involved we can stuff a rocket engine in a toaster ,microwave ,stuffed animal and then when were good and drunk we can tape one fin to them and just set them off and see who gets hit .fun i tell you

ME:
Done that shootin them fuckers off random thing. Ended up with huge bruise on my thigh the shape of Italy, Then it got infected somehow.

If we get some malt liquor and some whiskey, I might be up for that. And since we’re older than 14, let’s get some safety goggles before we start drinking.

My old man’s only got one eye and your’s has a not-a-leg sooo……….

TIMMY:
good call on the whiskey and the goggles is a good idea too. rocket engines are fun

how the hell does a bruise get infected ,is that when they turn yellow/green cuz ive had that happen a shitload of times usually on the really big bruises like the one i got from doing a high speed sideways kinda bellyflop on a bench before i moved out here, that sucked, damn skateboard left me at the worst time

ME:
I’m good like that ’cause I’m older and smarter, more experienced and probably better looking.

All I know is it turned yellow and oozed some puss but it was kinda clear and I never got a fever or anything.

You do this kinda shit on a skateboard on purpose and you just bought and aspire to drive a fucking car.

TIMMY:
Body: i’ll give you older…the rest well ..i dont wanna hurt your feelings

that sounds like a bruise burn i get those alot to i also get alot of blistered blisters from burns those are a treat.

and the idea was to slide across the bench but i landed on it wrong and the skateboard left me hanging.
damn car i gotta go to the dmv next week and get myself mobiler than the other four wheels

ME:
Don’t get all brave on me cause we’re bouncing off a satellite.

Yep, there was burnt flesh next to my young sack.

I got nothin for your blisters on blisters except to make sure your using the right ointment and I worked at KFC. I smelled my flesh a handful of times a day in that place. Topical antibiotic?

350 degree fat under pressure with valves everywhere.

We made greasy enviroment destroying heart disease causing chicken.

You blow glass. Very well.

Too bad about everything else about you.

TIMMY:
Body: brave? no truthful yes

how many fast food joints did you work at ?i worked at one and said fuck that i aint doing that again.
every here that story about the dumb ass that pissed in a fryerlator ,you can image how that went

why did you have hot fat under pressure? ive only seen it sitting in a vat

and yeah every thing else is kinda a shame

ME:
Shuddup and hold my soup fuckhead.

Just two food service occupations. KFC was like the fucking military and Der Weiner Schnitzel was like the Stripes/Animal House version. I was in charge and I ran one loose motherfuckin ship.

KFC that’s how they cook that shit. Big hydraulic steel rack lowers into a boiling vat of fat, oil and viscera, seals, and you crank up the pressure.

It was crazy. We polished those fuckers like they were fire engines. Peddled home in the dead of winter with my fucking pants frozen to my legs.

So I became a record producer.

At least you stopped picking your nose.

I’m out. Gotta make a phone call.

TIMMY:
kfc is crazy

later

They just don’t get it. Iraqi troops don’t show up in
other places because their concern doesn’t reach
beyond their own neighborhoods.

We simply don’t understand fuck all after four fucking
years.

It’s criminal that we did what we did. That we
invaded for no goddamn reason.

It’s fucktardingly, reCOCKulously and immorally absurd
that we did it without the slightest fucking clue as
to what to plan for or even expect.

Over and over again I’m blind sided by these haymakers
of stupidity, arrogance, hubris and avarice.

They are firmly planted, and unable to dance at all, in a
gunnysack of dipshitedness. Yet, they must be nuclear
powered, because they just keep swinging for all the
world like they have four arms.

And they shuffle ever forward. Like fucking zombies.

Executive priveledge on documents pertaining to obviously illegal wiretapping, energy task force meetings, 911 testimony without an oath to tell the truth, The Vice executive doesn’t belong to the executive branch, executive priveledge on documents pertaining to firing federal prosecutors for not pursuing baseless voter fraud against Democrats and everyday they just insist everything is going great, while we watch it all implode in slow motion.

These guys are really good and I motherfucking hate them.

It is maddening to watch.

This brings us to the “opposition”. The Democrats.

Non-binding resolutions, grandiose but trivial lines
in the sand, and one swing, just one, at a defense
spending bill for 120 billion dollars that we don’t
have. After one try, they rolled over and showed us
their mottled bellies.

Ten democrats voted their conscience that day. Ten out of forty nine. You have got be fucking kidding me.

These people were elected for a reason. That reason
was crystal godamn clear.

The very first political campaign I ever worked in was
for now Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid. He was
running for Lt. Governor of Nevada. He lost to Paul
Laxalt by a little over six hundred votes. I think I
was nine.

What is going on here? Hillary and Obama lead the
pack in contributions from big pharma this quarter? These two have
long since been to the crossroads and inked a deal with the dude with glowing red eyes in the stovepipe hat. I will vote for neither in the primary.

I’m done. I’m not throwing in the towel. I’m taking
the gloves off. No more of this lesser of two evils
horseshit. If I don’t like the choices on the ballot,
I’ll write in a candidate. Larry Bud Melman or Bill
Maher depending on my mood.

I wrote a letter today to both my senators and my
congressman (Boxer, Feinstein and Howard L. Berman,
respectively), it said that I would vote for whomever their
opponents ended up being in the next election if they
did not get off their asses and do something.
Something about the fucking war. Something about
holding these sonsabitches responsible for their
CRIMES.

Enough is Enough.

It’s gotten to the point where just about everyone but
the incurably and willfully stupid realize that we are
taking it in the ass.

And the people we hired to deal with these things act
like we are not here.

Mrs. Pelosi, I’m quite thrilled that you punched
through the glass ceiling and occupy the highest
position of any woman ever. Really happy for you. I
will actively campaign against you and for Cindy
Sheehan if you do not get off your ass and lead.

See, when we put you there, we did it because we
expected you to DO something. To do one thing. So far,
you really suck at it.

I fear that if they don’t take us seriously, they will
be forced to deal with anarchy. The weak among you
will be forced onto your backs. A good number will run rampant.

I have no intention of rolling over.

No more rules, school is out for summer.

They can’t hear us.

Yet.

Drinks for my friends.

I love that she knows and understands me. I adore
that she talks to me, despite not understanding a good deal of what she
goes on about. She’s a little crazy, I’m thinking
bipolar. One minute she’s cooing while warm and soft,
the next she’s all sinew, teeth and nails.

There are times I become olfactorily desensitized. My
affection for her is such that I’m able to tolerate
the odor of tootsie rolls that look like almond roca when
coated in litter, and the most pungent piss of any
domesticated animal. Occasionally I get a whiff when
I’m writing and I pour more sand in the shit box.

Then, some hot ass backsweat day on the drive home, I
open my front door to a bitchslap of feline excreted
ass and vagina molecules.

I mean, If I can smell that shit, hamfisted pun
intended, then I am inhaling that shit. So I put down
my shit and grab a Glad bag and some Lysol. I finish
washing the shitbox in the shower with a generous
amount of bleach. I sweep and mop the area and wash
the linens.

She herself, always smells very pleasant. “Kitty
Perfume” The Fish calls it. The Bean always smelled
delightful.

I leave newspapers on the floor of the bathroom for
her to have her way with.

I once sprung a leak and left a thin line of
catshitsand down the hall of my building. What am I
gonna do? Take the fucking Dyson out there? Are there even outlets?
Call a tech?

Having said that, I’m more than grateful she wordlessly
consented to shit and piss only in the designated shit and piss
box.

She won’t let a single rug lay flat, she’s an
attention whore, she often won’t speak to me in the
mornings. She’s shameless about pointing out that
it’s Sunday and that means Fancy Feast.

She’s an agile pain in the ass when I’m packing
luggage, she’s always up in my business when I’m
actually doing something but she’s pretty cool about
just hanging when I’m writing. She probably just
likes the quiet.

She picks my bamboo rug apart and distributes the thin
planks around the living room. She’s very funny. she
randomly gets all Halloween on me in an effort to
start a chase.

She likes to sit under things and stare/frown at me.
She rarely speaks during these episodes, when she does
it’s to admonish me.

The Bean engaged in similiar behavior but usually from
on high.

Otherwise she almost always sits facing away from me.

Her name is “The Gurry”, Girly Girl, Swirly Girl and
Girlfriend. Potempkin, Great Googely Moogely and
Fester Bester Tester. Benson & Hedges, Madame Crowley
and Mint Julip. Anyway…………….

She comes to bed with me every night and leaves as
soon
as I fall asleep.

She comes back before the sun does. I feel her nose
on my hand or my shoulder. She settles within arms
length and says a quiet hello.

I weigh everything in the most empirical light I can
muster. It is then that I have a snack and six drinks
or so.

Somewhere in there I begin to write. If I
don’t, by the next morning, my neglect typically
forces a course of action upon me.

Either that or whatever it is, festers for at least another day.

Once in a bathroom at The Studio, an Asian gentleman
pronounced the word lobster as “robster” to me. He
was very excited.

Trust me, it was all I could do.

In the very same bathroom I witnessed Eddie Murphy
wash his hands like a man with a monkey on his back. Manic. I entered, pissed and washed thoroughly. He scrubbed away the whole time, barely looking at me.

I pissed next to everybody in there. I also scrubbed
it with a toothbrush when I fell out of favor.

One of my best friends had to crawl under a stall door
to get Joe Walsh off the throne. It’s an excellent
story.

Someday I’ll share the tale of The Magic Booger. It was right there on the brass handle. For years.

Let me just say this. Ha!

Anyway.

I’m thinking it’s impossible to effectively break rules until you’re intimate with them. I believe it’s the responsibility of those who would violate the most mundane to the most sacrosanct , to first immerse themselves in the discipline that nurtured their buoyancy.

It is incumbent upon the rebel to understand what he
hopes to subvert.

All the best and brightest, at the very least, have colored outside the lines.

They know the inside of the box like the backs of
their hands. I imagine they all begin to grow bored with
it at one point or another.

It’s evident in every artform and occupation.

Here I began to make a list, and gave up. Way too many examples of genius. Musicians, scientists, writers and philosophers and the way they overlap.

The box matters because it divides the inside from the outside.

The essence of genius is creativity. It’s impetus is
inspiration. Along the way, the discipline of what
the box contains yields to the infinity outside of it.
It becomes an inculcation all it’s own.

Those outside the box must still reach inside, yet,
those inside have no imperative to reach, or even look
out.

May the sun shine on those that bother to even look around.

Drinks for my friends.

An update of matters concerning inmate number 28301016

John Conyers from the 14th Congressional District of Michigan has announced that he will investigate the use/misuse of presidential powers of clemency. The republicans hate this guy. He knows all about Iowa and now he has juice.

This is about Dumbya taking Libby off the clothesline. It was gettin’ mighty windy, if Dumbya didn’t do something quick, Scooter’s head was gonna commence to whistle.

It’s great theater. Yesterday, tongues wagged and spittle flew. Today, Tony Snow danced like a corpse inhabited by a poltergeist. He called it “routine”. It was beyond ridiculous. Poor bastard.

The democrats have actually siezed on the one aspect so obviously germane to the big goddamn picture for once. Hillary, Dodd and Biden are all actually taking this head on. They say it ain’t right because Dumbya did it to save Cheney’s pork rind ass.

At first I was impressed, now I’m a little nonplussed. They couldn’t Man Up on war spending but they’re pissed about Scooter.

That’s kinda disingenuous. Hillary and Obama were among the handful who voted against the latest war funding bill. They just didn’t want anyone to know about it. I’m guessing both are afraid of being kicked in the vagina?

Maybe the blind, wet and shivering democrats are beginning to realize that the Machiavellian cancer in the corridors of White House power is one Richard Bruce Cheney. Just maybe, they now understand that he is therefore, the heel of Achilles.

Cut off the head and so dies the body.

I’m torn, I’m encouraged that they’ve grabbed this bull by the horns. Yet, it won’t suprise me to see them flopping in the soil because they never thought about digging in and hanging on.

Life imitates art; it’s Revenge of The Fucking Nerds.

Drinks for my friends.

Unbelievable. Or, well, maybe not.

From Air Force One Dumbya phoned in an order to commute the sentence of inmate #28301016, you may know him better as I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby, Jr. Scapegoat. Fall guy. Patsy.

The spokesholes raved and their spittle did fly.

Think the Dick-in-Bush regime are a little cranky about having their asses handed to them over their ham fisted, neanderthaloid attempts at immigration reform?

Sitting presidents typically exercise such options at the end of their tenure, when they have little left to lose.

It did give me pause, yet it was fleeting. The raw hubris on display was initially extraordinary. I admit that I was in awe at the sociopathic insolence upon hearing of it. After all, when first asked about it, Dumbya vowed to get to the bottom of it; he said he’d fire anyone responsible.

Methinks he said that because he was woefully out of the loop and didn’t have a clue as to what he should say. Poor stupid fuck that he is, he defaulted to a domestic version of “smoke ’em out”.

Ever notice how close together his eyes are?

Anyway, I then had an ephiphany the size of a slap to the forehead. These fucks still have a lot to lose.

Libby was convicted of lying to the FBI and a grand jury AND of obstructing justice. This was Darth Cheney’s chief of staff. This was about the lies told by this administration to sell us on an unjust war. Hundreds of thousands of people died over the lies this sniveling fucktard got caught covering up.

He, is the ultimate insider, privy to the entire landfill.

The lies themselves were never really revealed, they sure as fuck were never prosecuted. Now the somnambulant among you won’t be able to see where I’m going with this. I trust the rest of you will.

See that speck over there? When you first spot it you think it’s a pelican or something. Just bobbing. Maybe it’s asleep.

As the ship approaches, it shocks with it’s exponential increase. All the sudden, it’s the goddamn Matterhorn.

What it is, is the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Inmate #28301016 sits astride it like Slim Pickens on an atomic bomb in that Kubrick flick.

They had to cut this little fucker a deal, unlike the other parade of patsies, If he sings they are vapor. Trust me, he knows everything. More than a few of us know more than a little of it, but this guy can prove virtually all of it.

Wonder why he went down in the firstplace? I’ll quote myself from last month, June 12, 2007-the year of our lord:

“See kids, here’s the deal. Gonzales is the bulkhead protecting Rove and Cheney on this issue. The same way Rumsfeld was on a completely different issue. The same way Libby was. The same way Peter Pace was. Or Powell, Ashcroft, DeLay and Wolfowitz. Heard much from Condi lately? Bitch.”

Lest any of you be overly zealous in pointing out the sheer testicle mass revealed in this act by Dumbya, understand it is really quite the opposite. This was done out of genuine and legitimate fear that we’d all see the naked emperor, shriveled, purple puss leaking phallus and all.

God I hate these guys.

Drinks for my friends.

Imagine if you will, a world where that fucking lizard Cheney has been impeached.

I doubt it would come to that, but what if our legislators, under extreme pressure and heat, developed tungsten spines and brought gravity to bear on our arsonists laureate? So much so that our man Darth was forced to walk?

The will, the very fiber of the Republican party would be disrupted like DNA exposed to massive nuclear radiation. The good, the bad and the ugly of the neoconserative to moderate Right wing would excrete a little gore, some mucus, and leave a trail of ash.

Rudderless.

They would have no idea what’s next because these days they look at Dick-in-Bush for what not to do as much as for what to do. Hard to believe they still stare so hard at that map, even while their eyes begin to resemble it’s random snaking red arteries.

Already lost and clawing. Taking jackasses like Mit Romney and Fred Thompson seriously.

The Republican party is more bereft of intellectual and therefore ideological purity than ever before.

We on the Left seem to have a glut of glad handing superhuman fundraisers. Shameless, spineless paper tiger/whores. This last quarter, Obama raised thirty two million fucking dollars. He smoked the Clinton machine.

We are now them and they are us.

“I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together. See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly. I’m crying.” -I Am The Walrus.

The Left has Kucinich, and the Right has Ron Paul. Two men who, right or wrong, have the courage of their convictions. Neither has a snowflake’s chance in hell on an August day in a borosilicate kiln. Not going to happen. One can only hope they are able to steer the debate a little before wafting away as vapor.

It may very well be time to shrug these petty notions of left and right, of black and white.

Defining the difference between good and bad is not something we should aspire to, it’s what we should engage in. It is there that we should take our sticks and rifles to draw lines. That is the distinction we should pursue.

Ideology may just be for the stupid. It is without a doubt for the ignorant.

The sane among us are well aware of the difference between right and wrong. Ocassionally it may require an assessment of our own hearts and our own minds, but with the sane, the truth inevitably prevails.

What’s it going to take for deliverance? Steadfast adherance to truth, justice and the American way?

It has long since ceased to be a matter of partisan concerns. Quite some time ago, it emerged as a struggle of right versus wrong.

It is time to act accordingly. Move beyond the labels.

“Semolina pilchard, climbing up the Eiffel Tower.
Elementary penguin singing Hari Krishna.
Man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob.
Goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob g’goo.”

The state of our union is a comedy to those who think and a tragedy to those who feel.

I borrowed part of that last bit from a guy named Horace Walpole.

Drinks for my friends.