Archive for August, 2015

Immigration is not a problem in America.

It is not an issue.

It never has been.

Ever.

It’s not a deficit in any way.

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

It always has been.

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

A deliberately organized, thoroughly pernicious distraction.

No immigrant has ever stolen a job from an American.

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

Build a wall.

Fuck me that’s stupid.

When was the last time a goddamn wall worked?

Lord of The Rings?

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

Assholes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck is wrong with us?

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

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

Stupid.

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

Pathetic.

Drinks for my friends.

I want sauce with everything I eat.

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

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

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

Fuckin’ ponzu sauce rocks because scallions and sesame oil.

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

Hardly as intrinsically rewarding though.

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

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

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

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

Okay so,  liquids, what about gases?

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

I’ll think of another example in a minute.

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

Solids.

So there we have it.

All three states of matter.

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

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

It was just like the Food Network I swear.

Then I exercised patience.

It needed to cook down for a spell.

An hour here and there with me tasting and doctoring.

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

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

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

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

I left the three cheeses out with the grater.

Awesome sauce.

Drinks for my friends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer is maybe.

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

So we applaud and celebrate.

Therein lies our mistake.

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

It really is our fault.

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

It will be obvious.

We will have elected a Clinton or a Bush.

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

The world will marvel at our stupidity.

Again.

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

The entire republican bench is astoundingly hollow.

There really is no there, there.

There is nothing to lose.

They are all complete fuckups.

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

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

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

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

Not once.

Ever.

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

Bernie Sanders is swinging for the fences.

He has nothing to lose.

Drinks for my friends.

Well that was weird.

Surreal.

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

But I guess I owe you something.

I’m still reeling.

Whatever, here we go.

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

What a dick.

But they all did it.

It was fucking creepy.

I was looking for stupid and I found it.

So I can’t say I was disappointed.

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

Unchecked.

Unchallenged.

They were just allowed to piss all over everything.

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

Obama blew the defense budget the fuck up.

They want more?

That’s some irony right there.

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

Carson was charming but innocuous.

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

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

These assholes did better than I expected.

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

I hate that motherfucker.

Really.

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

Demonizing Planned Parenthood and immigration was another big fear factor.

Yeah well, fuck me.

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

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

These bastards are unapologetic and proud of it all.

They will say anything.

Not one single breath devoted to anything that actually matters.

They are all cowards, every single one of them.

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

America is stupid.

Drinks for my friends.

 

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

The Ormsby House Hotel and Casino.

Ten stories closer to heaven.

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

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

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

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

The bedroom wing will face east.

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

And then there will be room service twenty four seven.

I adore room service.

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

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

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

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

Opulence.

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

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

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

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

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

Drinks for my friends.

 

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

Jade Helm anybody?

That there’s some derp of biblical proportions.

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

That shit runs deep in this country.

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

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

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

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

Hello Chicago.

The problem is one of overwhelming proliferation.

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

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

Might as well entertain it.

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

Guntards are really fucking loud and they are driving.

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

For most of us, incentive has left the building.

Banning would be dumb.

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

I have an idea.

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

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

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

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

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

Ladies and Gentlemen we have incentive.

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

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

We need to regulate people with guns.

Drinks for my friends.