Archive for January, 2012

Newtonanny

January 27, 2012

From Wikipedia: “Gingrich was born in south central Pennsylvania, to a teenage mother. He was adopted in infancy by his stepfather, a career soldier. Due to his stepfather’s occupation, Gingrich lived in several states during his youth.”

It’s not easy for kids to be moved around a lot as they grow up. They become rootless and disenfranchised. In the case of Gingrich we have a man who to this day has no clear foundation. He changes his wives, policy positions and religion as frequently as most people change their mattresses. A lack of stability and social cohesion can lead directly to moral bankruptcy. That’s why the Bible, as it was original intended, makes such a big deal about being an Israelite – sharing a culture of mutual genital mutilation that will somehow assure they’ll be the inheritors of the Earth. It’s important to establish rules for the group to function, but Newt has never been a part of any group. He was cast away by his own political party for gross ethical violations, and that happened while he was the speaker of the house. He frequently attacked the policies of Ronald Reagan, believing he, Newt Gingrich, to be a man of superior ideas and intestinal fortitude to defeat those communists. Newt would have used the bomb, and why? Simply so he’d be remembered as the man who did it. He has left wives for younger, healthier women when they fall ill and are therefore no longer useful or politically expedient in his unending, unquenchable thirst for power and recognition. All he has is himself. He knows relationships for him are short-lived and that he’s past the age where he will easily forge new ones. He is on a trajectory to a life alone. He would leave his current, and third, wife in a second. He would jump from Catholicism to full-blown born again evangelical if he deemed the political climate fruitful enough for such a move. He is a man unhinged, from nowhere and with nothing inside other than self-serving egomania, and this presidential run is his one last dazzling bid for glory; the end game where everyone must bow to Newt and accept him as the big idea man genius of the land. But what are his big ideas? To put the children of the poor to work scrubbing toilets and to build a lunar colony up on the “space coast.” He claimed in one of the debates that he was an army brat. He may just not be lying about that one thing. Because only a brat would think child labor is a good thing to help build a work ethic. Only a drifter with no sense of community would target the children of the community’s least fortunate and put them to work scooping the turds of the golden elite. Newt is an antisocial predator of the poor. He hates America. He hates America’s communities (disparages President Obama for his role as a community organizer). He hates the whole damn planet, and the only place he can foresee an escape is space… the moon. Newt can leave this world behind, finally and completely. It’s what his heart desires. A cold dead world for a cold dead man.

Ask Not

January 25, 2012

“Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country.”

“Okay,” Romney (or any generic mutli-millionaire) asked, “What can I do for my country?”

“Pay your fair share.”

“No thanks, I’d rather the country go fuck itself.”

And that’s why the country can’t do shit for the rest of us. Enjoy your crumbling infrastructure once great superpower.

Haji Birthday

January 24, 2012

Apologia Atheistica

January 23, 2012

The cat next door is licking its anus right out in the open in front of God and everybody, and this got me thinking about God… because I’m an atheist and atheists as a disparate group of people tend to obsess over God quite a bit or at least how belief in God effects those very many people we spend our lives living amongst.  I suppose an atheist is like a cop on the beat.  They become attuned to spotting criminal activity and potential crime everywhere they look.  Atheists become startlingly alert to all the God madness around every corner and every television channel, but you point out the madness to others and they simply don’t see it.  I can walk right through the middle of a street drug deal and not see a thing.  I don’t have the trained eye for it.  Although, I’m not as bad as my friend who can be directly offered hard drugs and not realize what’s happening.  The kid rode up to him on his bicycle and asked in that rapid-fire monosyllabic staccato burst typical of drug dealers, “You want some meth?”  My friend didn’t quite hear him so asked, “What?”  The dealer repeated his question, and my friend responded, “Yeah, I like The Smiths.  Some of their stuff anyway.”  And with that the mighty drug deal failed in a meteor storm of miscommunication, but I was thinking about God and how believers and their apologists can be driven to fuming fury over the slightest slight to their belief structure.  I think it’s because indefensible positions tend to provoke wild vitriol and irrational hysteria since it’s really the only recourse to anybody fervently believing in something that can’t be supported by facts.  If there’s no evidence, then all we’re left with is mad monkey shrieking to drive away the contrarian interloper.  The metaphor of the Christians and the lions is really apropos here.  Atheists are the big cat, stalking weak prey out of nothing more than simple hunger.  We don’t mean to make the poor monkeys go all into a frightened tizzy; we just need something to eat.  Meat of any kind and we go after what we find even when it brings down on our heads mad shitting derangement, and what’s the end game to Christian panic?  Blowing up abortion clinics?  Shooting doctors?  Stoning gays to death?  Crashing jet airplanes into skyscrapers?  Destroying works of art?  Look, you don’t need to do any of that.  I know change is scary, and the world’s moving fast and it seems less and less likely that Jesus is coming back for your soft white ass, but believe me, we all really can get along, but some of your flock will be devoured along the way, and reincarnated as one of us, and the new ones, they can be the hungriest.

GOP – The New Confederacy

January 21, 2012

I always hear about how many Americans died in the Civil War, and die they did in flabbergastingly alarming numbers, but we should really put a stop to this and cut those numbers into an approximate half by no longer counting the traitorous confederates of the southern states who just naturally received their treasonous due at the hands of the far superior troops of the true United States of the north!

It’s well beyond time Ron Paul supporters stop pretending he’s anything more than a racist old flea bag of the lowest common denominator who is far past his expiration date for fucking the fuck off, now.

Expresso 3: Return of the Ugly Faggot

January 20, 2012

“Hey, do you have a cigarette I can borrow?” she asked in a voice like a Bill Clinton impersonator.
“I don’t have any cigarettes,” I answered, which is a lot more than a lot of people out here give a bum… a response. I always give a response. I feel like it’s basically important to human nature to at the very least acknowledge the person is there and has just spoken to you.
“You don’t have a cigarette,” she confirmed as I walked by and toward the café door. “You’re a faggot… and ugly.” That’s what I get for quitting smoking. It’s transformed me into an ugly faggot, which is rough, I hardly stand a chance with those West Hollywood studs out walking their toy poodles and Yorkies.
Now I’m in the café and I order a triple espresso. The barista, she’s a new one, asks, “Small, medium or large?”
“A triple espresso,” I reorder, not understanding the question. She picks out the large cup, and I say, “I think it’s best to put it in the smallest cup size.” She doesn’t understand. I don’t think she knows what an espresso is, but that’s okay, I didn’t either until what ever year it was Racy D’lene’s opened up, and back then I was older than the new barista is today so all things considered, she’s on a sharper learning curve than I was. It’s all figured out, and I get my drink. “Expresso 3” is neatly written on the side of the paper cup. She’ll figure it out eventually. I’m not so crazy I’d correct a busy worker’s spelling.
I exit the café, heading out to a table on the patio. Right in front of me, there’s another guy on his way out. The homeless woman is still standing out front. “Hey, do you have a cigarette I can borrow? I’m asking you, not your faggot friend. He’s a faggot,” she said, obviously big on tautologies. That ugly faggot is an ugly faggot. She really wanted to drive it home.
Two days ago she was passing by the same café ranting about Robert Plant being a faggot, and how much she doesn’t care about that faggot Robert Plant and why does everyone think she should care about that faggot.
When the guy responded that he did not have a cigarette, she embarked on a new strategy, “I’m not going away until I get five dollars. Ma’am, you have a lot of money. Can I get a dollar? Don’t be so stingy with your money. Everyone here is so stingy.”
“Hey!” the guy whose faggot friend I was perceived as said, “Go someplace else!”
“Okay sir,” she said and scooted right off.
“Heh, I didn’t think that would work,” the guy said, and peace returned to the street, amen.

Tea Party Response Steeped in Anger

January 20, 2012

The Tea Party gets to go on air with a response to President Obama’s State of the Union address. They’ve picked Herman “you want a job, don’t you?” Cain for the task. This is fine by me. I want more voices on the television, but I also want honesty. Just what in the fuck is the Tea Party? They don’t have a presidential candidate (in case they’ve all forgotten, and I know right-wingers have microscopic and selective memories, but Cain, and the other Tea Party darling, Bachmann, both ran as Republicans). Tea Party candidates simply do not appear on any ballots. I just see them in small gatherings wearing old-timey hats and pantaloons, pining for the pre-civil war days, and hoisting signs bearing some semi-literate scribbles expressing their deeply entrenched racism. If they get to have a televised response to the SOTU, then what of the Socialist Party or the Green Party or the Libertarian Party (not Ron Paul – he’s a Republican) or how about an OWS response to the SOTU? What we need is a greater balance. I don’t want to hear only from the men driven mad by power. We don’t need Herman Cain’s response. How will it be different from the deluge of hatred sputtered out of the ulcerated lips of Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, Bill O’Reilly or the countless others of their tenor, mutilating the public airwaves with rage and derision? You know what’d be different? Getting a response from a homeless crack whore whose most valuable possession, her crack pipe, is hidden in her vagina. Or better yet, let her vagina respond to the SOTU. It’ll make a damn sight more sense than Herman Cain, and if Herman likes what he sees, then maybe he’ll give the vagina a job, but if he does that, then it’ll just become entitled and all elitist, and we sure don’t want that.

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January 18, 2012

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Tramampoline

January 17, 2012

I went to Palm Springs and took the aerial tram to the top of the mountain (near top). It was okay, but I almost missed it. I decided to get in a quick piss before boarding. I slipped away to the john, and as I was going in one of the tram workers said, “They’re boarding now, sir,” and I responded, “Yeah, yeah,” and went in and had my splash. I quickly returned to the waiting room, which, I was surprised to see, was empty. Everybody was on board. They had to open the doors back up just for me. Usually, you can’t herd a group of people that size (fifty to sixty of them, I’d guess) that quickly (under a minute). I didn’t really have to urinate, there was no pressure to, if you get me, but I didn’t know what was on the other end of the tram line. I figured it’d be the top of a fucking mountain, and there wouldn’t be shit or a place to put it, so I figured it was best to go even if I didn’t have to, but it turns out people take the tram to the top of the mountain just to get up there and sit down to a slice of four dollar pizza. It’s a full restaurant up there, and a full bar with two flat screen teevees… on a mountain. I decided to grab a pint and catch a bit of the Texans/Ravens game just to be in the spirit of the place. As I sat at the bar a fellow who’d hiked up the mountain sat down for a couple before taking the tram back down. The barmaid said he comes up the hard way about three times a week. That’s a real fucking mountain man, I thought, and sipped the beer straight down to my soft ass. There must be thousands of people each day tromping around up there, all out of shape, elderly, asthmatic, infants, smokers, drunks, screeching teenage girls and their lardy parents. If I was going to hike up a mountain, I think one with a continual stream of entitled tourists coming up to fart and eat chili wouldn’t be the one I’d choose, but then again, there’s a cold beer waiting at the top, and an easy way down that doesn’t involve falling. I suppose there’s a certain cheeriness to that thought when you’re about half way up and wishing for a ram to butt your behind back to the hell from which you’ve ascended because on the short list of repugnant American cities, I put Palm Springs up there along with that warty outgrowth known as Cathedral City, but judging by its demographics (skewed in the octogenarian direction) I’d guess Catheter City to be more appropriate, but I’m not going to get into that right now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe that is, unless some Republican says something stupid to piss me off, but what are the odds on that? I don’t believe Vegas would take a bet against it.

Up bound tram going up

Party of Piss Patriots Takes a Grand Old Piss

January 13, 2012

Some marines micturated on the bodies of dead Taliban enemy combatants, and several right wing political commentators, including Pamela Geller, Dana Loesch of CNN and former GOP presidential candidate Donald Trump have all praised the actions of these marines. “Our Marines are sent to kill the Taliban not coddle them. USMC should be praised not investigated. Semper Fi!” said Trump. “I love these Marines,” said Geller. Dana Loesch said she would gladly “drop trou and do it too,” and then added “I want a million cool points for these guys. Is that harsh to say? Come on people, this is a war. What do people think this is?” I think people, including the military high command, think this is conduct unbecoming a marine, but if these pathetic piss cheerleaders think urinating on corpses is something the cool marines get to do, then conscript them into service and put them to work pissing all over hostile territory. I’m guessing these demented golden shower fans will do a lot more of pissing themselves than on the enemy. The right wing goes further and further off the rails everyday. I say piss on Geller, Loesch, Trump and his hair. None of them are doing anything to tie the room together.

update — Trump’s statement about the Marines not being investigated is incredibly crass considering the investigations will be internal, handled by the Marines themselves, therefore Trump is telling the Marines how to conduct their business and how to handle discipline.