How Did We Get Here?

So they got Stoney, huh? Hardly surprising: the dude is literally a Batman villain except he dresses more extravagantly. Now he’s going to prison with a Richard Nixon tattoo on his back. That should make for interesting conversations in the communal shower, I expect.

Roger Stone in happier days.

Do you think Stone wakes up in the middle of the night wondering which life choices led him to his current situation?

Then there’s Rudy Giuliani. He was a national hero once. Now he’s a worm on a hook, wriggling desperately to avoid getting eaten by Adam Schiff or any number of other predatory political trout eyeing him hungrily. And for what: committing idiotic crimes on behalf of that grotesque criminal asshat Donald J. Trump? What up with that, Rudy?

A quick confession: Rudy has a very passing resemblance to my late father, which has possibly caused me to accord him more gravitas than he ever deserved. Perhaps because of that I remain astonished at the combination of greed and stupidity that he had to wallow in to get himself into this pickle. He was a prosecutor once. A good one. You’d think that his earlier competent self would have left him a message deep in his reptile hind-brain warning his later, doddering persona to not destroy his name and legacy on behalf of a loathsome rat-faced serial abuser like DJT.

Of course the same could be said of this country. We elected this ridiculous hate-weasel Dick Tracy level crime-boss President. Future generations will look at us like, “Dude: what the hell? How could you have been that idiotic? Were you high?” I’m not sure we’ll have a good answer.

I certainly don’t.

I guess at this point all we can do is pop Trump like a pimple on the body-politic and eject him into the Kleenex of Justice and Opprobrium, then cleanse our Wound of Shame with an Antibiotic Constitutional Cream of Freedom – by which I mean destroying the political career and voting out of office every disgusting hack and cretin who supported him and passing laws to ensure that he and his like can never once again erupt on the Chin of America.

On Ducklings

I visited the Boston Commons Park today, home of the famous “Make Way for Ducklings” statue which celebrates the beloved children’s story of the same name by Robert McCloskey. In “MWfD,” Mrs. Mallard takes her ducklings on a perilous journey across Boston from the Charles River to the Boston Commons to meet her husband, Mr. Mallard. The police stop traffic on intervening roads to allow the ducks to cross safely.

The “Make Way for Ducklings” statues in Boston Commons Park. Are any of them ISIS ducklings? WE JUST DON’T KNOW.

It’s a lovely story, beautifully illustrated, and the statue is a ton of fun with plenty of duckies for the kids to sit on. I had a good time.

So naturally I was appalled when on the way home I heard about President Trump’s Executive Order banning ducklings. For the next sixth months, instead of holding up traffic for the ducklings, ICE agents would send all ducklings back to the river, “Until,” President Trump explained, “we can figure out what the hell is going on.

“There are plenty of bad hombres masquerading as ducklings,” the President continued. “The Charles River is totally overrun by ISIS.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Trump insisted. “I love ducklings! I’ve made way for many many ducklings. In fact I’ve made way for more ducklings that Hillary ever did, if you don’t count the three million chickens pretending to be ducklings she’s made way for.”

Originally, President Trump’s ban applied only to non-white ducklings, but that was overturned by the 5^th Circuit Court. Now ducklings of all colors and types are banned*.

President Trump is the first American President in modern history who hasn’t made way for ducklings. Richard Nixon was heard on tape calling them “goddamned Hollywood waterfowl,” but he did make way for them. Gerald Ford tripped over the ducklings. Jimmy Carter built them a tiny little house on the island in the Boston Commons lake. Reagan paused for a photo-op with the cutest ducklings before making way. The Bush Presidents were perfect gentlemen (though Dick Cheney accidentally shot a Secret Service man in the face while hunting Mr. Mallard).  Mr. Clinton made way AND got Mrs. Mallard’s phone number at the same time.

Boston Common Lake has been “Repealed and Replaced” by Speaker Ryan and the GOP.

Late last year President Obama signed an Executive Order making it mandatory for all Americans to make way for ducklings, however President Trump rescinded it immediately upon taking office, calling “duckling over-regulation a yuge threat to American business.”

I got home and turned on CNN, where Reince Priebus denied everything, explaining that the whole story is “fake news” created by Public Enemy No 1: the US media.

Happily, I have since learned that Mayor Marty Walsh has declared Boston a “Duckling Sanctuary City.” Rumor has it Senator Warren will be leading a Duckling’s March on Washington sometime next month. So there is some hope for the ducklings.

And for us.

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*All except Moscovy ducklings. Which seems weird.

All the Rage

I’d totally take a selfie with that. Well-played, Mr. President!

I’m angry. It’s 20 degrees back home in Pennsylvania and snowing, but that’s not what I’m angry about. My wife, who is stuck on the farm with her horses, dogs and goat is pretty pissed about the weather, but I’m 3000 miles away in San Francisco, so in all honesty it’s hard for me to be really enraged. Let’s just say that I’m enraged by proxy.

Two of my three fantasy football teams are out of the running, but that doesn’t particularly infuriate me.  I can shift the blame for these losses on the lame new NFL rules that make players sit out games merely because they’ve suffered brain trauma. Goddamned sissies are ruining the game.

I’m far away from many of my friends and family. That sucks, but I’ll be heading home soon for an extended stay, so that doesn’t anger me so much as it makes me impatient. There will be cookies!

There’s war and poverty and illness and inequality and death and stuff like that, but that’s life, right? If you went around being angry over that stuff, your heart would wither and you’d end up looking like Dick Cheney’s daughter*. Screw that noise.

No. You know what really pisses me off? President Obama shook hands with Raul Castro at Nelson Mandela’s funeral. And he took a selfie with the hot Denmark Prime Minister. Goddamned dude ruined the funeral.

Of course Mandela was a commie terrorist anyway, so this whole “world mourns the death of a great man” nonsense is overblown, but still. Obama should have treated the whole thing with more respect. Dude destroys America’s reputation wherever he goes.

Mary Cheney, Dick Cheney’s daughter from the evil Star Trek universe.

It’s like when he kissed that Saudi Prince. Talk about inappropriate.

Oh wait, that was Bush II.

Or when he barfed on the lap of the Japanese Prime Minister.

Bush I? Really?

Damn.

But he did shake hands with admitted Commie and mass murderer Mao Zedong, right?

That was Nixon? What the fuck.

How about trading arms to Iran for hostages…? No. Reagan, huh? Shit.

Anyway, Obama’s a total disgrace, and he’s ruined the entire Christmas holiday. Which, incidentally he’s declared war on by angering the Israelis or something.

But it’s not all bad news. This latest outrage does give me something new to be angry about since the ACA website appears to be working better and unemployment is at the lowest level in five years, so I need to change the subject fast.

Frankly, if Obama hadn’t done this totally outrageous and terrible thing I would have had to make it up.

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*The mean one from the evil Star Trek universe. The daughter with the goatee.

Politics of the Dead

I don’t think that the young lady in the second row is addressing the zombie walk with the seriousness it deserves. Shame, Young Lady! Shame!

I want to tell you about this dream I had last night. I was at the store searching desperately for a stylus for my iPad when I realized that I wasn’t wearing any pants. This was ridiculous for a number of reasons: first, I don’t actually own an iPad, and second, iPads don’t use styluses*. So I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.

Anyway, then the zombies attacked, at which point my lack of pants became a lot less important. Luckily I was in a mall, so I just hunkered down until I was woken by screaming German tourists riding the San Francisco trolley down Powell Street outside my window. That’s how most of my dreams end – screaming German tourists on the goddamned trolley outside my window. Bastards.

But I digress. At some point during the dream it occurred to me that zombies are perhaps the worst-designed creatures in the universe, reproduction-wise. Even worse than Lutherans.

Let’s say that you’re a zombie. You’re slow, clumsy, and grossly, amazingly, pathologically stupid, so pretty much the only prey that you’re likely to be able to catch and eat is a human being. Now let’s say that you catch one: then what? You eat ‘em up. Crunch, crunch, aieee, crunch, noms. All that’s left is a sneaker maybe, and perhaps a pair of breast implants if your victim was a Real Housewife. Then you wander off, mindlessly looking for your next meal. You’re full, but you’ve created no new zombies.

So where do little zombies come from? They come from the same source as the zombies’ dinner: humans. To make a new zombie, the mommy or daddy zombie has to find a human dumb or injured enough to bite, but who is then able to get away before getting eaten up.

Further, the potential new zombie also has to avoid being dispatched by a horrified and conflicted human pal, with all the subsequent weeping and hugging of the headless corpse and cursing of God and stuff, not to mention the tiresome “shoot yourself in the brain to avoid becoming a monster” routine that some spoilsport victims engage in.

What a grossly difficult and stupid way to have to survive, bless their little non-beating hearts. George Romero has a lot to answer for.

After mulling this over for a while, BAM! It hit me:

Holy Shit! The Tea Party is Stupider than Zombies!

Let me explain.

So you’re Ted Cruz and his wacky Tea Party brain trust, and you find yourself in a difficult situation:

• We hate Obamacare a lot, and we seriously want it stopped.

• We have been unable to stop it legislatively, and the courts have declared it legal.

• We have not done anything to improve the law we hate so much because we have been too fixated on destroying it in its entirety. Also we’re as dumb as a box of rocks.

• It’s about to go into effect, and once enough uninsured Americans are getting insurance through the ACA, we’re screwed. We’ll never dig it out.

Oh please please please please please make this guy the GOP’s standard-bearer in the next presidential election! Pretty please!

That’s bad. So what do you do?

“I’ve got it! Let’s shut down the government! Once the American people begin to suffer then the Democrats will capitulate and agree to delay Obamacare until we can get a legislative majority and destroy it in the next Congress! Then I’ll get elected President! Belly up to the bar, boys! Cheap hookers and whiskey for everybody!” – Ted Cruz

Brilliant, right? But there’s one tiny flaw in Senator Cruz and his squadron of flying monkeys’ master plan: those Americans they’re fucking over to use as leverage against the Democrats? They’re also the electorate.

So that guy whose soldier son is denied a death benefit, Senator? He’s a voter. So is the woman who has been put in the hospital by the salmonella outbreak that the CDC can’t properly follow up on. The family who have to scrap their plans for visiting Yosemite? They contribute to election campaigns.

And – surprise! – they’re not as dumb as you think they are. Lord knows why you mouth-breathers believed that the electorate would blame the Democrats for this debacle, but they know who is at fault. That’s why your poll numbers are plunging faster than a paralyzed African swallow, you morons. You’re eating your own fucking constituency.

And you’re not even fictional, like zombies. You’re just stupid. So knock it off.

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*The “no pants” part is a fairly standard predicament for me, dream-wise: my psychiatrist tells me that it’s merely a generalized anxiety traceable to the fact that I regularly forget to put my pants on before going out the door.

The Weiner Blog

“This is not the weiner you’re looking for. “

A Recent Job Interview in New York City

“Good afternoon, Sir. Your name is?”
“Anthony Weiner.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Weiner. You are applying for the job of Mayor of New York, correct?”

“I am, yes.”

“Good luck to you. Now before we discuss your qualifications for the position of Mayor, we have a few simple questions for you.”

“Go ahead. I have nothing to hide.”

“Excellent. Here’s our first question: have you ever Tweeted pictures of your junk to anyone?”

“Certainly not!”

“You have, haven’t you?”

“That’s absurd. Of course I haven’t.”

“Who did you Tweet them to, exactly?”

“I never!”

“Come now. We’re all adults here, Mr. Weiner. You can tell us.”

“Lies! All lies!”

“Do you recognize this photograph, Mr. Weiner?”

“All right, maybe once, when I was in Congress. But never since then.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Let’s move on. So when was the last time that you sent out a picture of your genitalia, Mr. Weiner?”

“I told you: when I was in Congress.”

“And since then?”

“I haven’t.”

“How often after you left Congress did you send women pictures of your penis and testicles, Mr. Weiner?”

“Not ever.”

“Not even once?”

“Of course not. I’ve been in therapy.”

“Please allow me to show you another photograph. Is this your engorged phallus, Mr. Weiner?”

“Oh that. Well, yes. I did send that picture after I left Congress. But that was before I was totally cured by therapy, see? I’m clean now. I haven’t Tweeted a picture of my manly equipment in, well, a long, long time!”

“And if elected Mayor, do you plan to Tweet pictures of your generative organs to foreign dignitaries you might meet? Say, for instance, the Princess of Wales?”

“Never.”

It takes a pretty big dick to do this to your wife and child.

“That’s fine. And now, onto a different topic. How does your wife feel about you dragging her back into the limelight and humiliating her all over again, as you make this outlandish run for Mayor?”

“She’s totally great! She believes in me 100 percent!”

“Seriously?”

“You bet! She’s my rock!”

“She forgives you for photographing your genitals and sending pictures to random women under the pseudonym of ‘Carlos Danger,’ and then making her stand by your side in implicit approval of your grotesque and indefensible behavior which will no doubt haunt her and your children for the rest of their lives? She doesn’t think that you’re a raving egomaniac with no self-control?”

“She does not! She’s my biggest fan!”

“Indeed. That’s good to hear. Now one final question, Mr. Weiner: What makes you the right person for the job of Mayor? What is your greatest quality?”

“My integrity.’”

“Thank you, Sir. We’ll get back to you.”

First Presidential Debate Summary

Romney’s dead-on “Creepy Doll” impersonation seemed to disconcert President Obama.

Debate Summary:

Jim Lehrer: “Gentlemen, the country’s infrastructure is crumbling. Can you explain exactly how you will address this critical issue? You first, Governor Romney.”

Mitt Romney: “Americans are hurting from four years of me not being president even a little. I will reach across the aisle to work with Democrats right after I destroy their cherished healthcare plan and replace it with something different but just as good. I’ll get back to you on exactly what after the election, but I promise it’ll be excellent.”

Lehrer: “Governor…”

“Shut up, Jim. I’m still talking.”

Lehrer: “Mr. President, your response.”

Obama: “Jesus I’m tired. Do I really have to stand here and debate this clown? If you don’t realize how crappy his ideas are by now, you’re too stupid to live and I’ll never convince you. Also, Osama Bin Laden’s dead. I did that. What more do you want from me?”

Lehrer: “Thank you, Mr. President.”

Obama: “Great job, Jim. Can I go home and sleep now?”

Sarah Silverman’s video is trenchant political commentary with a soupcon of potty humor and dick jokes.

Let My People Vote – Get Nana a Gun

It appears that the pesky independent judiciary is slapping down one GOP-sponsored voter-suppression law after another. Fricking huzzah. I credit Sarah Silverman’s amazing video, “Let My People Vote – Get Nana a Gun” for the turnaround.  Check it out. 

Election Thoughts on a Rainy Labor Day

Warning: This really isn’t a coherent column. Hence the bullets. 

• The GOP’s case would be a lot more compelling if individual elected members didn’t keep revealing themselves to be a bunch of minority-hating, gay-bashing, misogynist dunder-heads.

• It’d be swell if we could have a debate about our policy of murdering people in countries we’re not at war with using Flying Killer Death Robots (ie, drones). But we won’t, because the other side wants to do it as much as Obama does.

Reince Priebus or Mr. Bean? One’s a talentless, self-important poser clearly played for comic effect and the other’s British.

• Whenever I get depressed or angry about the election I play some Skyrim. I find the fictional world created by Bethesda Softworks to be a lot more compelling than the one created by the GOP during their convention.

• I hope there’s a special hell for Justice Anthony Kennedy where he’ll spend eternity watching the horrible, democracy-destroying commercials that the ”Citizens United” decision made possible.

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ERIC CANTOR SPEAKS

“Today, we celebrate those who have taken a risk, worked hard, built a business and earned their own success.” proclaimed Cantor, completely misinterpreting the purpose of Labor Day, which celebrates American LABORERS who have suffered and died fighting for their rights to a fair wage, a five-day work-week and safe working conditions from corrupt, rich fat-cat business owners you damned idiot.

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• Whenever a reporter complains that a candidate hasn’t said something of substance about <whatever>, I want to punch his face in. You’re one of the losers who let ‘em skate, Pretty-Boy. Ask a tough question or go get your perm touched up.

• Todd Akin’s primary sin was in accurately articulating the beliefs of the folks who wrote the RNC’s anti-abortion plank.

• Remember the Patriot Act? Obama was against it until he became President. Wonder if anybody will bring it up at the Democratic Convention? Lulz.

• There’s a petition going around demanding that, to counter Eastwood’s work at the RNC, Betty White should introduce Barack Obama at the Democratic National Convention. I’m all for it as long as she doesn’t give an empty chair a lap-dance first.

• In other sexy election news, porn star Jenna Jameson endorsed Mitt Romney, saying, “When you’re rich, you want a Republican in office.” This may be the single most honest statement in the history of American politics.

It’s untrue that Jenna Jameson endorsed Mitt Romney because “We both change positions for money.”

• Ever notice how very few musicians ever ask Democratic candidates to change their theme songs?

• It gives me a great deal of happiness to learn that Pat Boone is a birther. It’s always fun when your personal preconceptions about a group of people are totally confirmed. They really are all angry old white guys with plaid pants and white shoes, aren’t they?

• I heard Vice President Biden bring up foreign policy in a campaign stop today and I nearly plotzed. Thus far this whole election has been about personal destruction.* Holy crap: we’re not going to open a meaningful dialog now, are we?

There are 63 more days until the election. Sixty-three. Good luck. Enjoy the holiday!

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*For example, I heard that Romney has most of his money hidden in Peruvian male brothels, which is why he can’t reveal his taxes.**

**So the answer is “no” on the meaningful dialog question I guess. Sorry.

Talking About the Weather

Looking back on the recent weather event known as Hurricane Irene, I think it’s safe to say that many people are idiots. And by many people of course I mean Republican politicians, reporters, and Glenn Beck. While you and I were busy preparing for disaster by purchasing toilet paper and scotch, these guys were shooting their mouths off, displaying various degrees of stupidity. For example:

Weatherperson Gaal Nomei of Hungary. SHE can stand in water if she likes.

Glenn Beck

On his Friday radio program, Glenn Beck called Irene a “blessing,” because it would teach people to be prepared for disasters. By this logic cancer is a blessing too, because it teaches people to stop smoking. Of course there’s nothing new about Beck babbling like an idiot, but it’s good to see he’s keeping up to form after leaving FOX News.

Angie Gonzalez keeps the people of Mexico excited about the weather.

Eric Cantor

On August 25, a spokesman for Republican House Majority Leader Eric Cantor said that any money spent of disaster relief for Irene would have to be balanced by offsets elsewhere. “[A]s you know,” said his spokesman, Laena Fallon, “Eric has consistently said that additional funds for federal disaster relief ought to be offset with spending cuts.” Since that statement both Cantor and House Speaker John Boehner’s offices have refused to say whether they’d hold up disaster relief funds if not offset. I hate these guys.

Say. Here’s an idea. How about us Liberals paint a “L” on our rooftops, while the Tea Partiers paint a “T”. In the event of disaster, FEMA will rescue us Liberals first, then wait for an offset before going for the Tea Partiers.

Jackie Johnson of KCAL TV. You know, I hardly miss Tex Antoine...

Ron Paul

Graduating from “lovable old coot” to “dangerous crank,” Ron Paul wants to destroy FEMA (the Federal Emergency Management Agency) because it’s inefficient and creates a dangerous dependency. “We should be like 1900,” he said on a recent campaign stop (even as Irene was heading up the coast), noting that in Texas “We deal with hurricanes all the time. I grew up in Galveston.” The humorous thing about this statement was that in 1900 Galveston, Texas, was hit by a monster hurricane that killed some 6,000 people.

While I’n in favor of local government self-sufficiency and all, and I’m sure that they’re ready and eager to tackle the next hurricane on their own, I wonder exactly how prepared the good people of Galveston are to deal with, say, a dirty bomb. Do they have plenty of iodine stored up? How about rad suits? Anti-mutant spray? Should each state have to duplicate efforts to deal with a biological weapon? How many super-plague-level isolation wards are there in Iowa, anyway?

FEMA may suck, but it should be fixed, not phased out.

The only thing that would make this acceptable is if the reporter were to be eaten by sharktopus on live TV. That would be frickin cool.

CNN Reporter Chris Lawrence

This clown decided that he needed to stand hip-deep in the Chesapeake Bay as it was being lashed by Irene to tell his story about how rainy and wet it was. Following this, an exasperated Governor Martin O’Malley begged Wolf Blitzer to tell Lawrence to get the hell out of the water.

The last thing we need is for reporters to suggest that such behavior is sensible. Suppose a bunch of drunk UMD students were watching this, saying, “Hey! That looks like fun! Let’s go try it!” This asshole could have told the same story while standing on dry land 20 yards away. He was just grandstanding. I suppose it would be wrong to have hoped that CNN would have gotten cool footage of him being swept away and drowning, huh?

In Moderate Seriousness

This hurricane whacked some people pretty badly, and it continues to beat the crap out of New England. I may joke about it, but that’s okay, because nobody listens to me any way. These other dudes have actual power. Unless they have something useful (or funny) to say, they should keep their damned traps shut and let grownups deal with the disaster.

P.S. Pandering? Me?

To all those who accuse me of putting in pictures of scantily-clad bimbos to increase readership, I’d like to point out that these scantily-clad women are professional weather people. For all we know they may be trained meteorologists who just happen to have pronounced high pressure systems. They’re scientists, dammit. So back off.

Playing Ketchup

So last year I was diagnosed with cancer. This resulted in surgery to remove a chunk of belly-fat, followed by months of radiation treatments. This in turn was followed by a lot of depression and exhaustion, despite being cancer-free. But I’ve spent several months working half-time in Texas eating Texas barbecue, and now I’m ALL BETTER. So it’s time to start up the blog again.

What to talk about?

Chickens? We just got some. They live in the back yard, in my mighty chicken coop. We ordered 8 and ended up with 13. They run around and eat bugs and other stuff we throw at them. They totally ignore the dogs in the run next to the yard, who would desperately like to see the color of their insides, and the chickens actually seem to enjoy the company of our lazy-ass cats, who are too lazy to eat them. We expect the chickens to start pooping out eggs in a couple of weeks, and then we’ll have like a dozen a day to get rid of. Any suggestions?

Click here to see my deeply moving video, “Political Science”

How about the garden? It’s fairly successful, which means that we now have roughly 25 cucumbers the size of footballs languishing in our kitchen. Fortunately the chickens like ’em. Who knew? We’re still in the “Ooo, a fresh tomato!” phase of the summer, but we know that the “OMG not ANOTHER frickin’ tomato” phase is coming fast. There’s a big hole in the corner of the garden in which lives something which eats jalapeno pepper plants. Bastard lazy-ass cats won’t touch it, and my wife won’t let me rent a flame-thrower after that last incident, so we’re stuck.

I suppose we could talk about politics, but I don’t think I’m emotionally strong enough yet. I will say, however, that it’s a good thing that the Republicans are putting up such a lame field of presidential hopefuls in the election, because Obama is showing Jimmy-Carter-levels of leadership, and we know how that worked out — eight years of the Gipper. Sheesh. If this continues I may have found a use for all them eggs — I just have to work on my aim.

Note: The above picture is a link to a video I made, so click on it. It’s harmless.

Boehner Admits to Shutting Down Government “For the Hell of it.”

In a surprise announcement today, Republican House Speaker Boehner announced that Congress would be shutting down the government on midnight, this coming Friday, no matter what the President offered.

“We [the Republican Party] are totally bankrupt of ideas,” Boehner stated. “We got nothing. When you elect a bunch of new congressmen and women who firmly believe that government is evil, it’s pretty impossible to get them to agree to actually do anything at all once they’re in that government.

“Frankly, all we’ve got in common is a deep, abiding hatred for Obama and an irrational fear that foreigners are going to take over the country, and we’re gone about as far as we can with that − nobody believes the birth certificate shtick any more, and there are just too damned many Hispanic citizens to keep nattering about the Mexicans. Those people vote!”

 

Fact: In 1987 Congressman Boehner had his tear ducts surgically enlarged.

The deeply emotional Boehner stopped to wipe his teary eyes. “Even Glenn Beck is getting the boot from FOX. I mean, they got Beck. Where does that leave us?

“Dammit, we used to be the war party, and now that bastard Obama has taken that away from us! Four wars!?! Four? Jesus, how can we top that?”

Speaker Boehner was openly weeping now. “So we figured, ‘What the hell?’ Let’s shut down the government and see what happens. If we can’t cripple the Federal Government through the normal legislative process, this might just work.

“Goodbye and God Help America!”

When asked for comment, leading Democrats said, “Hopefully this will take everybody’s mind off of the fact that we [the Democratic Party] haven’t had a good idea since the ’80s. God bless the Tea Party!”