Archive for August, 2009

Dick Cheney.  Dick fucking Cheney.  Man I hate this guy.

His very existence is hyperbolic.  Nothing he says or does weathers the ideal of truth.  These days, he’s a cartoon.  A rictus grin barely filled by crooked caramel teeth, lips pulled dry over an ugly mouth spewing lies and nonsense with the foulest of odors wafting from a lying maw.  Unfortunately, as any of the astute understand, he wasn’t always so toothless.  So laughable.  Thank us all for the end of of his nightmare.  The end of ours.

He led us into the shame of torture, the tragedy of unjustified war and the blanket, abject stupidity of neoconservatism.  A sociopathic charlatan that gives proof to the lie, the lie that if uttered often enough, is believed by the masses as well as the propagator.  He championed the stupid and lured them towards disaster.  With hubris and avarice and without any conscience or responsibility.

In an interview taped on Friday, that appeared today on, hold your breath, Fox news, Cheney called the investigation into his administration’s use of torture, “intensely partisan”.

Sheezus.

He went on: Calling the “enhanced interrogation techniques” used on terrorist suspects “absolutely essential,” the former vice president deemed any decision to launch an probe into the possible illegal use of these EITs an “outrageous political act” and a “direct slap at the CIA.” -Huffingtonpost.com

When I was a kid, my friends and I had a label for people who could lie so effortlessly that they obviously lived in their own world where sugarplum faeries danced and everything they thought or believed was valid merely because.  That label was, “Fucked In The Head”.  As in, Dick Cheney is Fucked In The Head.

This guy still amazes me.  He seems to honestly believe that the Obama administration should be knocking at his door for advice on how to keep us all safe.  Nevermind the glut of evidence that an event like 9/11 was imminent and actually occurred on his watch.  Nevermind that history will show definitively that the stain of torture was spread over America’s reputation worldwide at the behest of Cheney’s office.  Nevermind the secretive fuckery the office of the Vice President, including Dick Cheney his own self, engaged in to conceal torture.   Nevermind that once that failed,  Cheney’s office rushed to justify torture itself.

Nevermind that the sonafabitch lied over and over and over.

Fuck this guy.  Prosecute his fat white, crooked toothed ass.  He is a criminal.  He is fucked in the head.  This is not right and I dare anyone to defend him.  Guilty.  Guilty of the worst crimes there are.  Sloppy, stupid and without conscience or shame.  Fucked in the head.

So transparent.  So one dimensional.  How does this prick sleep after the role he played in wrecking us so?  The Haliburton scandals and their subsequent enrichment.  The list is long and vulgar.  I really can’t bear to revisit it on your behalf.  It’s insane.

There’s more.  He said the launching of an investigation,  “offends the hell out of me,”  Oh really?  He’s offended?  This guy is fucked in the head.

I’m offended.  This remorseless jackass goes on national television, Fox fucking fixed news, and whines and waxes offense after all the evil he’s perpetuated and the all the fatuous and maniacal lies he’s visited upon us?  I’m offended.  I’m disgusted.  Who the fuck does this lying, black souled asshole think he is?  Who does he think he’s talking to?

Dick Cheney is uniquely, singularly and exclusively, an American piece of shit.  A monster, a horror we allowed with our laziness and apathy.

He would never have been allowed to manifest without a significantly sizeable and hopelessly stupid demographic.

Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.  Bitch.  Yep, our fault.  Big surprise.

Do us both a favor, when you click on my blog here at brainspank.org, there is a long list of categories on the right hand side.

Scroll down and click on Dick Cheney.

Read about his evil and destructive deeds.  I’ve taken great care and no small amount of time to document them.  Immerse yourself.  I did it because I couldn’t stand it.

I did it because America has no greater enemy than Richard Bruce Cheney.  Osama Bin Laden makes this piece of shit look Fisher Price.

Man, I hate this guy.

I’ve been doing it for years.  Learn about my detestation for him and from where it was borne.

I’ve been doing it because he fucking sucks.

I’ve been doing it because he’s a rotten molar in America’s head. Because he’s an egomaniacal, shameless bastard who has no integrity, no record of accomplishment, no reason whatsoever to lend any credence to anything that spills out of his ugly goddamn mouth.

Dick Cheney is toxic, a poison that demonstrates but one imperative.  The imperative is that the cancer be removed.  Cut it out.  Remove it.  If thine eye deceives thee, then pluck it out.  By all means.  Rid the body of the malignancy.

“In the interview with Fox News Sunday, which was taped on Friday, Cheney insisted that newly released documents from the CIA proved that the use of torture on terrorist suspects were instrumental in preventing future attacks (a claim that the documents actually say is difficult to make).”  -Huffingtonpost.com

The truth is, the heavily redacted documents prove nothing except what actually happened was far uglier than what we’ve been told.  An even bigger shop of horrors than Abu Ghraib hinted at.  We abused prisoners.  We tortured them without compassion and certainly without mercy.  We beat them to death.  In our name, they were tortured and beaten to death and Dick fucking Cheney is offended because we we want to know why and how?  Who the fuck is this guy?

I think we should force a molten glass rod up this guy’s piss hole and ask him what offends him so much that he can go on national television and spew this crap.

Fucked in the head.

I’m offended.  Fuck you Dick Cheney.  Justice should include you tasting your own blood right before you die.

You sir, are excrement.

Drinks for my friends.

It’s crazy.  DJ AM was found dead in his New York apartment due to an apparent drug overdose.  What’s even crazier, I have absolutely no idea who this guy is.  Or was.  What does that say about me?  I’m 44, a former multi-platinum record producer and I’ve never heard of this guy in my life.  Obviously he was a dj.  So?  High profile romances with Nicole Richie and Mandy Moore.  I kinda know who they are but again, so?  Not even a musician, much less a talented one, and he’s dated Nicole Richie who’s famous for what?  Being friends with Paris Hilton?  The adopted daughter of Lionel Richie?

I’m not so clueless as to know there exists an entire dj culture I know nothing about.

I worked with Lionel Richie, hell of a nice guy.

And Mandy Moore.  Never heard of her.  Sold some ten million records and is an actress.  Honestly never heard of her either, couldn’t pick her out of a lineup.  What does this say about me?

My adolescent heroes are by and large, still names on peoples lips, or at least, still familiar to most people eighteen and over.  Journalists, musicians, actors and writers.  Cronkite, Brokaw and Olbermann.  Miles, Eddie, SRV….  Sean Penn, De Niro, John Goodman, Frances McDormand….  Poe, Steinbeck, Capote, Vonnegut….  I could fill pages.

What does it say about us?  About me?  My generation?  Do the people who know who DJ AM is know who the Vice President is and that he spoke at a very important memorial this evening?  Do they know the last scion of Camelot is dead?  Do they even care?

I understand that there’s always been a disconnect between the youth culture and the more sober reality of the adult world.  Often that cleavage has yielded important cultural upheaval.  If American society had just listened harder and paid more attention to our youth in the late sixties, events might have been significantly less disastrous.  The under under 35 demographic played a huge role in last year’s elections.

A force to be reckoned with.  Pure and not easily confused.

I have to admit, beyond my bewilderment, I don’t necessarily have a point.

Well, maybe I do, but it smacks of codgerliness in an embarrassing ‘kids these days’ sort of way.  I mean, these are pivotal times.  The fate of the country certainly hangs in the balance, as does every single individual who has DJ AM on his or her radar.  Is our children learning?

I read Rolling Stone these days because Matt Taibbi has piece inside, otherwise I have no idea who or what they’re talking about.  The new artists are a mystery to me.  Weird.

To be sure, part of the problem is the phenomena of unchecked media saturation.  I grew up with two and a half channels, the newspaper, a 7-11 a half a hour way on a skateboard and a library forty five minutes away on a bike.  No cable, no internet, no cell phones, no video games except Pong and nothing but time.  I responded to this brevity of stimuli, entertainment and information by constructing powerful homemade explosives, listening to records, reading everything I could get my hands on and learning to play the drums.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I had no interest in sports.  I played a little tennis, these days I like to watch boxing and a little basketball, maybe the Superbowl.

Far  more constructive than today’s youth, I’m sure.

I understand that raging, pulsating hormones and prodigious pressure to succeed  pollute common sense and sometimes erode sensibility entirely, but work with me kids.  Whoever DJ AM was, I’m confident he commands no amount of gravity that even approaches the fight for your future that rages in town halls and the corridors of power as you lament the passing of this cultural speck.

What I’m trying to tell you is we need you.  Pay attention.  You helped us elect a man who was by far the best choice.  Your work is not done.  Sorry, it’s just begun.  It is the price you pay for what you already have.  It is what you owe for it.  Sincere earnestness is required to improve it all.  You are the future.  Read and masturbate more.  Reverse that, spank it more often and then turn off the insidious and ubiquitous media and read something.

The engine of youth is quite capable of driving the course of human events in this country when it’s fuel is righteous.

Drinks for my friends.

The Lion sleeps tonight and forever.  I for one am deeply saddened at his inevitable but still tragic shuffling from underneath his mortal coil.  If nothing else, I’ve been reminded anew of the sheer abundance and magnanimity of his legislative accomplishments.  A profound practitioner of comity and perhaps the fiercest defender of basic human rights to ever serve in what used to be at least, the greatest deliberative body in history.

A force, a  human hurricane of kindness.

Senators McCain and Hatch have take it upon themselves to soil it with contempt and hypocrisy beyond the proverbial pale.  They suck.  To think McCain had the audacity to run for President.  Stupid is as stupid does.

I don’t believe in heaven or hell, armageddon or a Christian God, but for his sake, I do hope Mr. Kennedy is somehow reunited with his so tragically deceased brethren.  I do believe in the soul, and I believe Mr. Kennedy’s to be of the most authentically unadulterated kind.  His passing is every single American’s loss whether they know it or not.

A grand patriarch of Americans needs and wants.  A father and protector.  A good man.

Teddy.

The tragedy for the redneck, great unwashed, is that they fail to realize what he did for them and including their hatred, vitriol and ultimate stupidity.  When made plain to them, they pretend not to care or understand.  Such is the state of filthy willful ignorance in contemporary American politics.  Ugly, shortsighted Americans that purport, at best despairingly, unable to understand the truth.  Hopeless and deliberately imbecilic because they’ve been indoctrinated with a simple shallow fear.  A fear they know and understand to be baseless and without merit.

Fools.  Goddamn fools.  Goddamn fools.

I’m not sure how this is, all the sudden, I’m reminded vividly of a retarded man named Johnny I knew some twenty five years ago.  I recently had the pleasure of spending some time with  him and a best friend for whom Johnnie is his charge.  My longtime friend, Sean and his significant other Johanna, are living with and taking care of, Johnny who is 56 years old and ridiculously sweet and affectionate.  Johnny is well adjusted, poses no danger to anyone but maybe himself and is funny as fuck. Can’t remember whether it was Jo or Sean who shared it with me, but apparently Johnny exclaims “I made it!”, every morning when he wakes.  How cool is that?

Whatever God there is, he loves you Johnny.

From Bob Cesca at Huffingtonpost.com, “Health care reform named after Ted Kennedy must not suck”.  If and when this gets done it better be good if we dare to do it in his name.  Are we clear?

So by the way, any of you assholes on the the right who choose to accuse us of politicizing Edward Kennedy’s death by celebrating his unapologetic liberalism can take a long slow suck on my runny scrotum you stinking cunts.  He was a proud liberal who never succumbed to the right wing stigmatization of the word or the concept.  He was never afraid of it, he embraced it. His record glows with it.  It’s why we loved him.  Piss up a goddamn rope, you misguided obtuse demagogues.  Tread there at your peril.

Not a single one of you dickwads who would take exception, ever voted for any bill, proposal, or amendment he ever put forward for the common man’s health and well being as far back as ’94.  Eat me.  Now is not the time to pretend you would have negotiated.  Simple bastards.  Disingenuous mouth breathers.

Puke on your own shoes.  Don’t even try to define this man as some moderate obsequious compromiser; even you respected him because he stood up to you and told you to pound sand over and over when you chose to abandon reason and logic.

Outclassed.  Way outclassed.

I’m so weary of the stupidity and the vacuum of logic or reason.  The only industrialized country, and by far the richest in the world, that fails, fails again and again, to care for it’s people in the simplest, most fundamental of ways.  I’m sick to death of the tower in place that dictates our basic needs according to profit and the filthy lucre that has poisoned the process for decades.  It’s bullshit and whenever someone, be they elected representative or clueless ideologue, tries to tell you different, you can bet they are far less than than full of shit.  Empty.  I mean empty.

Bet they are corrupt.  Bet they are ignorant and scared.  You can bet they will do no good.

I will never, ever lie to you.  I’m telling you the way it is.

Johnny wakes up and says, “I made it!”.

Drinks for my friends.

I’ve gone through a change.  Transformed.  Like menopause.  Suddenly, the Republican Agenda makes sense to me.  I’ve gone from liberal to vacuous.

Seriously.  Work with me here.

Torture makes complete sense in the context of liberty and justice for all.  Dick Cheney and his minions should not be investigated or prosecuted.  They were merely doing their best.  It’s hopeless silliness, not to mention unpatriotic, to pursue any form of persecution of these brave defenders of the American way.  As American’s, we are better than everyone else, we don’t deserve the scrutiny.  We are above it.  God put us here to rule the world and he is on our side.  Our unique responsibility is to rid the world of evil.

We are special.  Jesus tells us so.  The Bible tells us so.

Our qualifications are exclusive and divine.  Christian Americans are The Chosen.

Republicans in particular.

The faithful.

Those who’ve failed to reach their fiscal potential are not my problem, my concern and certainly not my fault.  Maybe God’s will is that they should be left behind.  A kind of religious natural selection.  Ha!  Take that you atheist Darwin lovers.  After all, God only helps those that help themselves.  Christ has no use or patience for the weak or impaired, they are unable to do for themselves and are therefore worthless to the Holy Spirit.  Never give a fish to a Democrat, teaching the worthless to fish is a waste of time. Some have been chosen and some have not.  The Christian way and obviously what the Heavenly Father intended for the Christian nation of America.

The rich should be taxed minimally, if at all.  Wealth drives the modern economy.  They provide the largess for jobs and industry.  They are the chosen.  Thus, their generosity is evident and already in place.  They do far more than the beggar or the homeless can or would.

I’ve come to loath the rotting toothed, stupid and desperate poor.  God has not chosen riches for me but I shudder when I gaze upon the worthless because I know my tax dollars go to prolong their miserable lives.  Poor but obese, they lack the sense to choose wholesome and nutritious food.  They neither know nor care enough too seek proactive medicines or practices and I don’t doubt that’s all part of God’s plan.  That these zombies are allowed to drain the money and resources of American society in general confuses me.  God does work in mysterious ways.

I don’t hate them because God says not to.

America is the land of opportunity.  Always has been.  Those who’ve failed to take advantage of America’s vast and ripe system of free education and abundant possibility are simply beyond hope, especially once they pass the threshold of adulthood.  I work, I have a job, so these greasy, dentally challenged trailer park dwellers, these weak and worthless veterans of our wars who can’t get it together and refuse to do for themselves, make me want to puke.  Look at all the goddamn foreigners that take jobs as convenience store clerks or manual labor workers that take jobs from worthy Americans.  Are these people less capable, less able than honest Americans?  Maybe they are, maybe they’re not.

Falls under not my fucking problem.  All I know is I’d much rather have my tax dollars go towards fighting the raghead terrorists than these wastes of God’s air.  I see these people in wheelchairs sporting an oxygen tank in casinos and I just know my money is paying for them instead of keeping us safe from Satan’s Muslim evil doers.  They should be euthanized like the diseased cat’s and dogs that make a mess of my trash and threaten neighborhood children with a cornucopia of malaise.  Tics, fleas and ringworm.

Ever heard that expression “Kill ’em all and lot God sort them out”?  I’m down with that.  I’m no judge and jury but get them off my block and out of my town.

Sometimes I think Hitler was more on the ball than he gets credit for.  Everyone knows the Jews control the banks and the entire entertainment industry.  You know “The Family” on C Street more or less agrees.  He really was just looking to rid his country of Faggots, Gypsies, Jews and the ethnically impure. Hitler was a Christian too, you know.  He had “The Ultimate Solution” and I think we could take a page or two from his playbook.

It’s a good dose of reality as opposed to the fascism and socialism pinko liberals try so hard to cram down our necks every fucking day.

See, they’re not patriots like me and you.  They love niggers and spics and anyone who isn’t from the Mayflower like us.  They are weak.  They give money to all the dirty and lazy regardless of their color.  Ask me for money on the street, I’ll tell you to get a job you piece of shit.  They wander around pushing their stolen shopping carts full of stolen trash and I hate them.  Their skin a map of rashes, their eyes bloodshot with their hands out and the cloud of foul stink they walk in.  This instead of a job?

Fucking lazy if you ask me.  No excuse.

Christ has blessed my soul with charity but these people have no will or desire and don’t deserve the fish I can afford.  If they won’t die, better off behind bars at $30k a year because they are a menace.  Know God or pay the price.

We should attack and punish those countries who threaten us.  The future of the world depends on the triumph of Christianity over Islam.  They’re heathens and there’s no chance of co-existing with a bunch of towel headed camel jockeys.  Crude and uncivilized.  We have nukes and they don’t.  Time to use them.  Negotiation is pointless.  Turn their the desert into glass.

Take a breath.

I hope you understand that I’m kidding.  I’ve painted a picture for you of what I hate.  It is a caricature for sure.  A broad stroke, the impetus, the catalyst, being a solid month of right wing talk radio and it’s blatant, overt dishonesty.  Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh are simultaneously American icons and stains on America’s aspirations and her identity.  What they do everyday is sick, irresponsible and evil.  They and their ilk seek nothing more than to pollute our national discourse so egregiously as to rile the stupid and offend the thoughtful to the extent that they are actually paid handsomely for their treason.  Shining examples of the worst of us.  The physical manifestation of everything that is wrong with American society, patriotism and all our precious ideas.

They are paid handsomely to stir shit.  Disgusting.  I would swing on either one.  I fucking hate these guys.

This blog is dedicated to Teddy Kennedy.  Not perfect by any means, I understand his flaws better than you can know, a lion nonetheless.  A champion of all those I’ve lampooned so harshly here.  The dynasty has ended.  It really is America’s loss.

His passing is poignant and symbolic.  It was with JFK’s assassination that the modern era of brutal politics flooded us.  The subsequent courage of LBJ and the assassinations of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King cemented the vulgar ugliness of right versus left in this once vital and proud nation.  We have fallen from those heights.  Those ideals and those hopes.

In so many ways, we are in the same place.  A half African, half Caucasian man as President.  We are back in that place more than you probably know.  Round headed idiots showing up to Town hall meetings sporting  loaded weaponry enough to slay everyone in front of them.  Adolph fucking Hitler invoked over and over.  There are so many children in America, both literally and figuratively.  I worry so much that despite the election, we are forced to choose between a martyr or Superman.

It would be convenient and gratuitously exculpatory to pontificate here, but I’ll spare both you and me.  Save this:  Both John McCain and Orin Hatch disingenuously lamented the absence of Ted Kennedy from the health care debate in the last day or two, insinuating that his presence would have made a difference.  Fucking pricks.  Shame on you assholes.  You and your ever shrinking party are beginning to trip over your own dicks in your own race for shamelessness.

Public option or bust.

Drinks for my friends.

Why is Obama allowing him self to be so humiliatingly chumped by empty suits like Chuck Grassley?  I’m hoping it’s political rope a dope and Grassley will soon wake on the canvas, the taste of his blood in his mouth.

Fingers crossed, boys and chicks.

I’m betting on it.  Think a knuckle dragging moron like Chuck Grassley is any match for our President?  Don’t forget the guy you elected is whip smart.  Made the Clintons look Fisher Price and McCain was Play Doh.  Five or six moves ahead.  The entire GOP will be crying in front of their friends by the time the leaves begin to fall.

Wanna know how I know?  Unwitting pawns showing up to town hall meetings wearing AR15’s.  A shrieking right wing media.  The paranoia is palpable.  The Secret Service could easily expand the perimeter to a mile or more at the behest of the White House and that would be that.  Ask yourself why that hasn’t occurred and a correct answer affords you a glimpse into what is really happening here.  When the day is done, if meaningful health care reform is not passed and signed, the entire GOP will  be left to suffer the slings and arrows of their own outrageous demise.

They will be forced to filibuster, actually filibuster.  Bring on the cots and porta-potties.  Coverage will be live and through the night while ass squeaking octogenarian obstructionists are forced to ramble ad nauseum for the purpose of keeping the poor and middle class from accessing what should be their right in a country so rich, a society so advanced.  This, after every opportunity to entertain compromise has been offered and then scorned.

What we see unfolding here is analogous to the sixties civil rights movement.  The guns.  The shrill psychopathy  I pray not the violence.  It is the old guard Republicans resisting change and what is right with lies, deceit and power whatsoever they are able to bring to bear.  Same as it ever was.  Same as it ever was.

I may be wrong, but when the talking heads gasp and wonder at what the White house is up to, when they all scratch their collective crowns at the the strategy or lack thereof, I’m hoping hard it is this.  I’m hoping this administration and it’s super intellectual brain trust is allowing this pot to boil over on the stove because they understand that the only way real change comes is through this brand of passive violence.  Political judo.

I pray it is so.

Today, former Homeland Security honcho Tom Ridge, from a book to be released September 1st, finally cops to the fact that terror threat levels were subject to political manipulation by the White House and the DOJ.  Um, no shit.  Thanks for your candor, you spineless coward.  Somebody get this man a Presidential Medal of Freedom.  I mean, Tenet, Franks and Bremer got one.  It’s only fair, clearly commensurate…….

In other news, John Ensign deems himself morally superior to Bill Clinton because he broke no laws.  Remains to be seen.  Hold your breath.  Former House Majority Leader, felony indicted and architect of K street, Tom DeLay, announced his new gig on dancing With The Stars and called for Obama to produce a birth certificate.  We also learned that Cheney’s secret CIA assassination program was to be outsourced to the notorious Blackwater.  Keystone fucking Cops.

Oh, and today Karl Rove in a Wall Street Journal op-ed called for an apology from The New York Times and The Washington Post saying, “Judging from the evidence released, [the committee] uncovered facts that show that my role in the U.S. attorneys issue was minimal and entirely proper.”  My advice to the periodicals in question?  Invite Mr. Rove to piss up a goddamn rope.  And maybe request a sample of whatever he’s smoking.  Rove is as filthy as a half melted plastic doll discovered in a native American fire pit.  His hubris blocks out the sun.  His mother sucks cocks in hell.

Man I hate these guys.  Even after they’re gone, a pungent, greasy slick glistens on the surface of our water.

Then, my beloved Jon Stewart has Betsy McCaughey, propagator of the “death panel” schadenfreude and big medical industry shill, as a guest and subsequently shellacs her like a bar stool missing a leg.  A premature halt is called so we may watch the entire charade unedited online.  Brilliant.  We loves us some Daily Show.  What the hell was she thinking?  Oh, the shameless cuntiness.

You just can’t make this shit up.

And it goes on and on and on.

Drinks for my friends.

……a constituent asks, “Why are you supporting this Nazi policy?”  Frank responds: “On what planet do you spend most of your time?” He then calls her approach “vile, contemptible nonsense.” He closes by saying: “Trying to have a conversation with you would be like arguing with a dining room table.”  -The Huffington Post

And thus, Barney Frank owns the crazy bitch on national television.

Fucking brilliant.

Barney Frank blows my skirt up.  My favorite gay Jew member of Congress schools us all on how to respond to the paranoid obstructionist right wing nut bags.  Closest thing to tumescence since I woke up this morning with a piss hardon.  I hate waiting for those to go down so I can do my morning business.  Otherwise ya gotta get kinda horizontal; very tricky and often messy.  It does beg the question, why has Obama not said something similar to Senate Republicans?  I for one, think it’s time.

This national debate has long since devolved into a vulgar burlesque.  A cirque de bullshit.  Once again, I find myself embarrassed to be an American.  If only it could be about facts.  If only it could be about exactly how it will be funded as opposed to whether or not abortions will be free, or illegal immigrants will have access, or whether grandma will be euthanized, or whether Medicare, Medicaid or veteran’s care will be compromised.

It’s not about any of that.  Trust me.

How about the efficacy?  About exactly how the middle class and the poor will benefit, as opposed to what makes these fucking idiots think it’s somehow appropriate to show up with goddamn loaded assault rifles to what is obviously intended at least, to be a civil and decorous exchange of information on one of the single most conspicuous issues of our lives as topic.

Who the fuck are these morons?

Ladies and gentlemen, because brains are back, so is ignorance.  Say hello to militias and all the congruent, potentially violent, paranoid consequences.  Word is at least one of the asshats to show up at a town hall recently was a member of the Viper Militia, a 90’s group that saw many of it’s members end up in federal prison.

Oh man, here we go.

There is no action without an equal an opposite reaction.  An intelligent President equals the emergence of weird flat earther, birther, deather, desperate mouth breathers.  There is no free lunch.

He is a good man, our President.  If he’s unable to accomplish what we who elected him expected, who he is and what we hoped for will not be without the tragedy of disappointment.  But it does not change the righteousness of our aspirations and expectations any more than those of the man himself.  It changes nothing.  Man does not live by bread alone and Obama is no island.

This is on us.

Hunter S. Thompson said, “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”  It is time.  Barney Frank, that smart and strange little bastard showed us today.

“This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco
this ain’t no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey
I ain’t got time for that now”  -Talking Heads

Wade in you bitches.

Drinks for my friends.

I like talk radio.

There is no talk radio in Carson City.

That’s not exactly true.  The only kind available is of The Human Shitsmear and Sean Hannity variety.  I wake up every morning to Limbaugh.  Entertaining.  Yup.

I am in awe.  Astounded.  I’m sure it’s a very lucrative gig.  It must be.  It would have to be.  He’s got a damn good radio voice.  He certainly sounds as though he’s bringing an abundance of conviction.  Despite my abject cognizance of what a despicable, hypocritical douchebag this consummate fuckhead is, were I retarded, I might be inclined to succumb to the rancorous enmity he so effortlessly pontificates toward anyone with a triple digit IQ.

Without a doubt, his audience, some twenty million or so, are mouth breathing, snot oozing, Depends wearing, pasty and pallid, gun loving, Jesus worshipping, irrationally fearful dipshits.  Just ordinary folks who would never vote for a black man or a woman because the very idea scares the living shit out of them.

This man, this Human Shitsmear , is not nearly as stupid as his brethren.  He is a master charlatan.  The hoax he perpetuates pollutes the most valuable and vital discourse we engage in.  Always, no matter the issue, Limbaugh and his ilk walk wide with nonsense and lies to distract and obfuscate.  How he sleeps at night is a mystery.

The entire behemoth of far right conservatives and GOP dickheads afford this gold bricker an amount of fealty that makes no goddamn sense whatsoever.  A racist drug addict without any evidence of faith or religious persuasion at all.  Yet they embrace him.  That he’s allowed to play on the national stage as an arbiter of anything is as disgusting as it is confounding.

A champion of idiots.  A prurient propagator of lies, deceit and disinformation for and to the great unwashed earn him a fat check.  Still, how does he sleep?  He’s no idiot.  He knows exactly what he’s doing.  Everything that is wrong with America is manifested by this Human Shitsmear.  The worst brand of sociopath.  Without a broadcasting career he would likely be a serial killer.

Or perhaps a very successful used car salesman.

I’ll be switching to a classic rock station.

Drinks for my friends.

Here I am in Carson City Nevada.

Back on the grid.  Internet access achieved.  Kinda proud, as I’m a bit of a luddite.

The capital of the great state of Nevada, merely titular as the seat of power.  Since the seventies or early eighties,  the actual force and center of political influence has resided with indefatigable dominance in Clark county, some five hundred miles to the south, by virtue of the voracious development and a subsequent population explosion in Las Vegas.

Despite all that, Carson City remains a cracklingly political town.  My sister tells me it’s all about to change.  Power will return to it’s rightful place in the North.

Between nation trotting sojourns with my father in an RV better appointed and more luxurious than most apartments I’ve lived in, my retired mother still oversees vital components of the bi-annual legislature.  They are somewhere between small towns in Washington state as I write this.

My sister swings a heavy municipal bat.  She has big plans for this town.  A media center unrivaled on either coast.  Her husband, whom I’ve known since grade school, wields substantial influence with Nevada’s nearly omnipotent Gaming Control Board.  Friends of the family are the wealthy, elite and intelligentsia as well as the kind, humble, ordinary and delightfully quirky.

Hello, Don Carlson, Harry Reid and the rest of you.

Not at all out of the ordinary for me to crack my hometown paper to find an article or editorial written by my uber talented and modestly ambitious sister.  Just last week while having lunch in an ordinary burger palace, I enjoyed such occasion.

Their lives are impossibly full.  Easy to envy.  Very busy and purposeful people.  Even my sister’s three children, two in college and the youngest a senior in high school,  are elaborately involved.

The net effect of all this furious activity and humble accomplishment  allows for me to feel distinctly and unmistakably slovenly.  Sloth like.  As I sit writing this from my parent’s kitchen counter, my trophy, a gold record, prominently adorns a living room wall.  Not much in the scheme of things, but I’ll take what I can get, at least until I’m a famous and/or critically acclaimed writer.  Or maybe head of the cheese department at Whole Foods.  

Another thing that impresses the crap out of me is the depth and breadth of both my mother’s and sister’s larders.  The culinary treasures in each are enough to sustain one through the apocalypse.  Exotic condiments, mustards, pickles, oils and dressings of all kinds.  Cheeses and sausages.  Canned fruits and vegetables.  Spices, soups and seasonings.  Refrigerators and freezers stocked with meats and nuts, breads and more vegetables.  Everything from freshly frozen hand picked huckleberries to chicken nuggets, huge sides of mammals, frozen diet meals and seafood.  Sauces from barbecue, to soy ginger and sesame, vidalia onion and fig, chili, rice vinegar and raspberry pecan.  Tomato paste, tomatoes chopped, tomatoes whole.  Soups and pasta, raw beans and crackers.

Slim fast in a can and baby corn in a can.  Microwave popcorn and Cups O’ Noodles.

Alcohol from fine wine to to cheap champagne.  Malibu Rum to Creme De Menthe, blood orange liqueur, vodka, gin, whiskey and Amaretto.  Soda, beers and juices.

All manner of candies and chocolates.  Jams, jellies and preserves.

Farm fresh eggs from my brother in law’s chickens and home made pies from my sister’s oven.  She has an herb garden and shops the farmer’s market every Saturday morning.  She runs marathons.  Her husband is soft spoken, brilliant and absurdly funny.

Not much substance here I know.  Been away from the wheel for awhile so give me some room.

I will tell you this.

Without a public option at the center of any health care bill, all is lost.  Obama will have squandered too valuable political capital for next to nothing.  The only efficacious mechanism for curbing corporate insurance greed, for legitimate reform, will be missing.  Without it, it will be a band-aid on a sucking chest wound.  Consequences of a bill without it will be dire.  All momentum and any mandate from an overwhelming majority will expire.

The ideas of hope and change will atrophy.  No bill will be failure.  A bad bill, without a public option, will be a stage for blame deserved, optimism smashed and the very last chance Americans will ever have at fair and equitable health care will fade to black.  The best promise of this administration will be shit.  Obama’s presidency, and our last best hope, will surface out past the breakers, missing a limb.

Fuck the Republicans.  Take one lesson from them and get the goddamn Democrats to march in step.  Marginalize the flat earthers by excluding them.  I’m weary of the vagina monologue here.  Tell the assholes that would terrorize their constituents  with stories of “death panels” and grandma’s plug being pulled to shut the fuck up.  Go to those states and wage war.  Get proactive.  Get medieval on their asses, with the truth.

Chuck Grassley should be invited to suck his own dick.  He’ll never vote for health care reform unless he’s shamed into it.  Obama needs to go to Iowa.  I’m not sure what Ted Kennedy’s status is but wheel him in.  Get proactive.  Fight, you you pussies.  More than health care is at stake here.  Don’t you see it?  Hope and change hinge on this.

Absent a public option will be proof that Democrats are unable to even lead a horse to water.  A majority in the House and Senate will be meaningless and it will all be for nothing.  Not a goddamn thing.  All for naught.  God will whisper in Michele Bachmann’s ear and she’ll be your next President.

You think the last eight years sucked?  I’m just sayin’.  It’s all about this.  Right here.  Right now.

Drinks for my friends.

What I am is a writer.  I like to talk about what I see and have seen.  There’s plenty.  I hope to illuminate, maybe even educate, but at the end of the day, I’ll settle for pissing you off.  I’m here for a reason.  It’s not deep or profound.  The reason is I can’t help it.  I must do this.  I am compelled, whether anyone listens or not, to speak my mind.  I always have something to say.  It’s a curse and a blessing.

I’ve always been this way.  I can’t bring myself to be unhappy about it.  I don’t really try.

Either I’m wont to wax political or I tell you stories.  I do so because I can’t help it.  I am a writer.  I like words.  They are my stock in trade.  Fiduciary.  Supple.  Plenipotentiary.  Flabbergasted.  Onomatopoeia.  I’ll fire them at you for fun.  That’s one of the things I do with words.  Otherwise I strive to make a point.  To awaken you to some aspect or angle you hadn’t considered.  I really like doing that.  Sometimes I search high and low for that angle, that perspective.

If I just can’t find it, I come at you full bore with something I hate that you might not understand.  I get myself in a lather and blow smoke in your face while I pound and complain.  I do this because I have to.  Because I can’t help it.

All humans are foolish.  Humility is the best we can present, despite it being insincere the majority of the time.  I’m no exception.  I really want you to read my shit.  I’m a writer.  I want to talk to you.  Communicate with you.  Reach you.  Touch your heart and your mind.

I am a writer.  I can’t help it.

Just like any other pedestrian, my humility is fragile.  Like any other egotistical pontificator, I’m confident I have something to say you’ve never heard before, or at least in a way you’ve never heard before.  It’s just as likely I’m completely wrong.  I can’t help it.  I’m a writer.

I hate any organized religion and I love to hate politics.  I love to talk about both until I run out of breath and big interesting words.  I sincerely hope, in that pursuit, to entertain you.  I do endeavor, with as much honesty as I can muster, to tell you the truth as I see it.  I am not here to fuck around.

What I am, is a writer.

Bear with me, I’m working up to it.

What I want to tell you.

As of Monday, August four, I’ll be off the grid.  I’m going to ground because I have to make money.  Whims are no longer subject to me.  I am subject to them.  Off I go, back to ground, to make them my bitch again soon.  I don’t imagine it will be longer than a week or so.  For me to get back to you.  Back on the grid.  Not to make whimsy my own.  That will take a little longer.

The whole idea is for me to control circumstances once again.

Fly a biplane into the yonder blue.  Away we go.  Yep, A biplane.  A Sopwith Camel.

My two girls will be in cages in the back of my newly registered, no insurance, expired drivers license, most likely with a bench warrant vulnerable ass…..car.  I got new tags though.

I’m off.  Bear with me.  I’ll be back just as soon as I can.  To startle you.  To entertain you.

No worries, I’ll be back soon.

I am a writer.

Drinks for my friends.