Supreme Court Upholds Bill of Rights!

Without freedom, there can be no liberty. And without the Supreme Court, there can be no law. Now the pursuit of happiness is another story.

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Supreme Court Upholds Bill of Rights!

Holy Shiite! Where’s Mahmoud?

Mahmoud Ahneedarealjob, now my favorite terrorist president (alas, I’m on the outs with Dubya, since he has only 10 weeks left in power), has been remarkably quiet since sending King-elect Showbama a congratulatory letter following last week’s historic election.

(I’ve obtained a copy and, in honor of national security, have decided not to publish the letter in its entirety. I will, however, share this tender moment, since I very much want Ahneedarealjob to overcome his public perception of being a third world maniacal idiot:

“Secretly, I want to have your love child and bring our two houses together, as I know in my very oh so huge heart that you do not believe in the Holocaust, either. Praise Allah, comrade!”)

It is true that Ahneedarealjob did come out (dressed as a dominatrix) in public this week to criticize America for being the beast that she is (you dirty, dirty beast, you…WHACK!):

“The Iranian nation defends its sand…and…well…its sand. Should any power stand against the Iranian nation, the Iranian people will crush it with its stinking breath and will further kiss it on the mouth…and I’ll be the first in line. Iran is the most powerful nation in the world, and when we obtain nuclear power…um…the people will settle down amid our air conditioned homes and enjoy the fine aroma of scented camel farts, because, as you know, our goal is to cool our homes through nuclear power, not build weapons. We leave that to the Infidel Invaders. Those dirty pig eaters.”

But I have it on good authority that a double was really speaking in Ahneedarealjob’s stead (in honor of his hero, Adolf Hitler, who had an appetite for body doubles…and smelly shoes). In fact, I’m told that the actual Ahneedarealjob was seen as recently as yesterday at a bar in Moscow with Russian dictator for life (in secret!) Vladimir Putin, along with a male dancer. A reliable source has informed me the tryst’s topic of discussion was manly missiles. (It’s a popular subject, in fact, on Ahneedarealjob’s own blog.)

Which is really quite appropriate. On Wednesday (while Ahneedarealjob was enjoying his Moscow tryst), Iran tested a long-range missile capable of reaching southern Europe. The missile reportedly contained enough goat dung to wipe out an entire cup of authentic Italian cappuccino. Marone!

This test, of course, has nothing to do with Iran’s alleged pursuit of nuclear weapons. As many of you know, Iran does not need to build a nuclear arsenal. If he wanted to, Ahneedarealjob can already reach Israel and knock out a cell phone tower, or maybe a Zionist news stand.

When told of the missile test, King-elect Showbama grinned madly, like he’d just won an election in which he had no prayer a year ago.

“The time for change in America has come. I have brought great hope to the air. I am the light, the Son of Man, the giver of life, the rock of Gibraltar, the Kwisatz Haderach. I will make it a top priority to sit down, face-to-face, and talk with President Ahneedarealjob. We will come to a great understanding about the human condition and our role together in new beginnings and have tea, lamb, and humus in the White House, for the future of both of our countries,” he said, still grinning madly.

“Thank you, Sarah Palin. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” he added, grinning still. (In fact, Washington insiders tell me he no longer has any other facial expression.)

Analysts, of course, warn that Obama risks falling under Ahneedarealjob’s love spell if he writes “XOXOXO” back to him. I still don’t have a pulse on how the notoriously homophobic Iranian citizenry feel about Ahneedarealjob’s wanting to have Showbama’s love child.

But I do wonder where’s the fun in the Obamas having the Ahneedarealjobs over to the White House for tea, lamb, and humus to discuss the advance of radical Islam and middle class welfare in America. That sounds pretty damned-well boring. I’ll have to go watch NASCAR, or golf, on DirecTV when that happening occurs.

Admit it, hate him or hate him more, it’s been interesting listening to Dubya speak (well, try to) of preemptive strikes up the anus of the Axis of Evil whenever one of Ahneedarealjob’s relatives passed gas and set off our strategic missile defense system. Oh, how we’ll all miss the neocon doctrine, however misunderstood.

These are extraordinary times. And extraordinary times call for flamboyantly hoodwhinking men. And we’ve got ‘em.

I shudder to think we’re actually going to be friends with the dictator Dubya really should have gone after and chased into a rat hole in the desert.

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Holy Shiite! Where’s Mahmoud?

Talk Is Cheap

Keep on talking, Showbama. Keep on talking.

State of the Nation

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Talk Is Cheap

Help This Virgin Now!

Even crotchety old me has to feel a pang of pity for this poor sap:

"Well guys, here's the deal: I'm 25 years old and still a virgin. Yes, I know, it's pretty weird... I've always been a shy guy, and as time passed I just got too old. To be honest, I'm not quite happy about this, as one would figure.

Actually, I almost lost it once. I had a girlfriend when I was 23. But in the end pretty much nothing happened - she left me for a guy that had more money than I did. I don't think I'm ugly looking, I'm just not good with this kind of stuff. And since then I also have a trauma of sorts."

Give him a few hits so he can get it over with. Help a virgin.

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Help This Virgin Now!

Showbama's Tax "Cut" Exposed

Why call it a tax “cut,” when your plan is to just dial back the tax law 9 years?

Why, spin, of course. Truth is negligible to a presidential candidate, and downright blasphemy to a president (slash president-elect).

Are you getting a tax cut, or are you having your taxable levels restored to the year 2000? Question of logic: If your tax level was higher in 2000 and you make more money now (or the same amount, as is probably common these days), will you see a tax “cut” or a tax “raise”?

(Hint, the answer isn’t going to make the average “middle class” family very happy.)

That’s progress for you (and that’s why a Democrat telling the average American he’s going to get a “tax cut” is like a Republican telling a poor family their vote is equivalent to winning the lottery). How much “hope and change” comes with going back to something that was screwed up back when you were still not good enough to win state elections (and the sitting Democrat president thought you were a punk)?

Gee…I wonder how much debate we’ll have about the great King Showbama’s IQ now?

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Showbama's Tax "Cut" Exposed

Your Friendly Neighborhood Gov’t ShakeDOWN

If Death and Taxes are avoidable in this life, then I’m a Democrat who voted for King Showbama. I think my record on this subject is pretty clear.

Oh, I’m gonna die, of that I have no doubt…unless my wife wants to pay for cryogenic freezing, but first I’d have to move to Freakifornia. And I refuse even to step foot in Freakifornia.

When I go, it’s the dirt nap for me, or the fishes, depending on who gets to me first.

So that leaves taxes. Do I have to pay? The 16th Amendment says so…or does it? This is an old argument, but it’s always worth bringing up when a tax hike is looming for any American, even those making more money than a porn star impersonating Sarah Palin [NOTE: The link is NOT adult content.]

A few years back Brian Doherty, of Reason magazine, wrote Five Reasons You Don't Owe Income Tax, Dammit! My summary of his gloss on the tax-honesty movement boils down to this:

1. Our tax system is voluntary, as defined by several documents by the IRS itself and backed up by the Supreme Court of Florida.
2. The U.S. Supreme Court (in 1916) declared the 16th Amendment does not provide the power to tax income. It does, however, provide the power to tax gains (as in corporate gains).
3. Income is wages earned…that is, your agreement to trade your labor and your time in exchange for cash…again…defined by the U.S. Supreme Court. Labor in exchange for money is not corporate gain.
4. Nowhere in the IRS tax code are the following terms clearly defined: “state, United States, employee, and person.” Now…we all know the government is absolutely clear about all things, especially those pertaining to freedom (or the illusion thereof).
5. “According to the tax-honesty reading of U.S. Code 26, Section 861, only income from foreigners or from overseas activity appears to actually be subject to the income tax.” Hmm. How many illegal wage earners in this country don’t pay income taxes?

So… is it possible (just possible, mind you) that your government has been lying to you for 95 years? That’s absurd! They would never lie to us. About anything. I mean, our elected leaders and their political appointees don’t go around scaring people into doing things they don’t want to do, such as…oh…I don’t know…embroil the nation in war in the defense of tyranny a few oceans from your home…more than once?

Why, then, do we pay our taxes anyway? It can’t be out of civic duty or Oliver Wendell Holmes’ desire for paved roads leading to his favorite Lincoln dealer (were he alive today): "I like to pay taxes. With them I buy civilization."

We pay them out of fear, fear of the IRS, or, more appropriately, their Criminal Investigation Division. They can seize your assets, make wild accusations that destroy your personal and professional life, and give you an enema the size of Florida (with spikes!).

And you don’t even get a kiss.

What was it that Kissinger said? Oh…now I remember: “He who controls the money controls the world.”

You can admit it: If you suddenly understood that you didn’t have to pay taxes, unless you wanted to -- and that the IRS has never provided anyone with a clear, concise document, in English, explaining why it is that you have to give up your earnings (to pay off the national debt to the Federal Reserve, btw, not buy more war planes) -- you’d tell the IRS to take a nice leap into shark infested waters. And, if for some reason, out of the goodness of your heart, you’d pay taxes anyway, I have some valuable stock in Chernobyl nuclear reactors I’d like to sell you.

In these next few months King Showbama will have the Legislative and Executive branches of government under his thumb and a vast mandate from the American sheeple to maneuver to shore up the economy quickly…and create his tax storm, conveniently giving the middle class a cut in taxes the IRS can't really prove (without the use of force) you have to pay in the first place.

He’ll also have Dubya’s government stock in the nation’s banks and the vast powers of the Patriot Act to do whatever he damn well pleases.

Before he does anything, maybe he should watch this film by Aaron Russo (rest in peace), best known for making Trading Places:

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Your Friendly Neighborhood Gov’t ShakeDOWN

Blogging in the ADHD Era

Honoring my intent, I’m open to discussing all things stupid.

So I’m going to get away from prattling on about King Showbama and (to a lesser extent) his evil counterpart, the eunuch, McLame, at least for the next 5 minutes.

I’m told by a fellow blogger (a PAID blogger, I will admit) that my posts are far too long for this medium. My “wit” (I thought it was bile!) is buried in my bullshit. My use of repetition, hyperbole, and overly dramatic writing (techniques that date back to the earliest form of story…um…The Bible) are too-old school for this new, frantic medium.

My use of naming conventions (loud, overblown, capitalization of common words such as, oh, I don’t know, King ShowBAMA!) is…distracting. (My, how I’m going to enjoy gushing forth that name for the next 4 years.)

My windiness overwhelms you.

You, the reader, don’t have enough patience to wait for the point. You’re distracted. You have ADHD. You’re dumb. Or so this line of thinking follows to its logical conclusion.

This whole short and sweet rule prevailing despite the relative breeziness of some popular blogs (maybe they’ve earned the right to blather on and on?):

My Job Application to Work for Obama


Carry On Regardless?


Re-Set

But, you know, I’m too long. (And I thought the point of a blog was having something to say…even if you have too MUCH to say!)

So, I would like to announce to my followers (all three of you…it says so right there in the right-nav beside us) that I will from this day forth write only one-word posts.

Here are the first three:

Short Post #1

Short Post #2

Short Post#3

Really, though, I'm just kidding....I don't think readers are dumb. Come back for more bile and mockery soon.

Thanks for reading!

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Blogging in the ADHD Era

Short Post #3

IT!

Short Post#1

Short Post #2

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Short Post #3

Short Post #2

ON!

Short Post #1

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Short Post #2

Short Post #1

PISS!

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Short Post #1

The Eunuch and Tina Fey

I want to know how you run a presidential campaign with “factions” and “divisions” between nominee and running mate. Do you feign simpatico relations with the other, only to bitch and moan behind closed doors about one another and spread whatever message you feel, instead of one consistent, powerful voice?

Is the race for the presidency now a friggin’ playground?

The disconnect between John McLame and Sarah Palin running up through Tuesday’s election calls to mind something that might occur in high school. The quarterback is the captain of the football team, but the running back is the star everyone comes to cheer. (I can’t help but distract you: I LOVE this show….) They speak but only to say a sarcastic “hello” as they pass in the training room, or on the practice field, or as one leaves the prettiest cheerleader’s bedroom while the other walks in.

(Speaking of popular women, is it just me, or is a fashion trend at hand? Are women starting to look like Sarah Palin? Same cut of power suit, same wire-rimmed glasses, same bird's nest hair style? I saw one tonight in a bar and turned to a nearby acquaintance and asked, “Does she look like…?” Before I could finish, he said, “Sarah Palin?” I, of course, had to do one better, and, recovering, shook my head. “No, no….I was thinking of Tina Fey.” (Alas, those skits are over.) But…you've noticed this sort of thing, too, right?)

To think that Palin and McCain were “in only infrequent contact” right up to the moment they walked into the night desert air in Phoenix on Tuesday to tell the world what we already knew – “Fuck it, we lost” – is like saying that Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston only pretended to kick each other’s ass on occasion. The reality of it is dumbfounding.

How can a man, supposedly the CEO of his own campaign, be only slightly aware of such infighting, powerless to do anything about it? How could McCain expect to run a country when he couldn’t even control his running mate? Did Palin and her folksy manner and initial popularity cause him angst because he was about as folksy and charming as Dr. Evil? Did he feel that if he put her in her place when her popularity started to wane that he’d be exposed as sexist? Does a presidential candidate who can’t control his employees deserve to win?

I think back on McCain’s concession speech the other night, how he held up his hands when his supporters booed the very mention of the name “Barrack Obama” or the subject of concession, the way he shushed the crowd like some grandmother, the way (admittedly, defeated and probably wanting to finish the speech so he could lock himself in a room somewhere and cry himself to sleep) he was overly impatient with people who, not yet ready to admit defeat, had gathered for him -- the last hope against a triumvirate of Democratic power in Washington -- and think: “This man is a eunuch.”

I’ve been of voting age in this country for 20 years. I’ve seen the Shrimp, the Wimp, Slick Willie, Bob “Bob Dole” Dole (the man has NO nickname), Al Whore, The Idiot President, John “Swiftboat” Kerry, McLame, and now King Showbama. I have to be honest: Not one of them deserved my vote.

If we’ve learned anything during the past 16 years, suffering through two presidents who were first immensely popular then terribly unpopular, these last 2 years leaving us to choose from candidates who few people in this country truly felt “good” about, it should be this:

In 2012, when you’re starting to form your choice for president, ask yourself, “Am I my brother’s keeper? Or am I willing to pursue real hope and change?”

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The Eunuch and Tina Fey

All Hail King Showbama

So it is done. He spoke eloquently and emphatically about hope and change for 21 months, and people listened. They do that, you know, particularly when a good shepherd leads the way.

Yes, the American sheeple have spoken, and quite clearly. Prince Showbama is now King-elect Showbama. I mean it. This has really happened. The promise of America has been fulfilled.

As we started rolling out the red carpet Tuesday on ALL the TV stations that could tune in (the anchors licking their chops as Electoral College numbers for The Star Candidate crept higher and higher), there was Jesse Jackson (who ran for and lost the 1988 Democratic nomination for president), crying in the audience in Chicago’s Grant Park. Were they tears for Martin Luther King, Jr., the teacher Jesse claims died in his arms? Were they for how far we’ve come since Jackie Robinson and Selma, Alabama, and Brown v. Board of Education and the 1964 Civil Rights Act? Were they for Jesse himself, who very much wanted to be the first black president (so long as he could keep accusing white people of inherently being racist)? There was John McLame, the kind, timid, clueless old man who, in the end, proved to be far less than the Fearless Leader he tried to evoke on the campaign trail, gracious in defeat before his supporters in Phoenix, his eyes bleary, tired, and red. Had he been crying, too? For lost opportunity? For a contest in which he never had a chance? (He had no convincing “hope and change” pitch, you see.) There were the interviews with Showbama supporters in Grant Park, awaiting an appearance of the King-elect, talking about “just wanting to be here to witness change.” Because, you know, hope and change, hope and change, hope and change (I’m sorry, did I lose my train of thought?) is what this election was all about. There was the diminutive George Stephanopoulous blathering on like the idiot he is (I mean, c’mon, he was X-42’s water boy!) about “seeing” in Showbama’s eyes “what he is about to accept”…when any self-respecting psychologist, psychiatrist, or writer worth their salt knows the eyes tell you NOTHING about what goes on in the human psyche or soul.

Yes, King Showbama will be the 44th president (despite U.S. Rep. John Murtha’s “racist’ constituency in Southwestern Pennsylvania, one of the early states to swing for the Democratic nominee -- an early telling sign that this election was heading King Showbama’s way).

In fact, if you weren’t a Democrat, you knew the election had to go Showbama’s way. After all, we had witnessed incredible failures in 2000 and 2004 to wrest the country from an illiterate (and now, obviously, irrelevant) Republican who thought the board game Risk had unilateral, and clear and present, implications in foreign desert nations. The timing was right (I have mentioned this before) for a pied piper to come along.

And so now we come to it. My, how King Showbama has his work cut out for him. The economy has tanked. We are at war in two nations (and perhaps soon others). We have racial divides as evident as they were in 1964, despite the “hope and change” of this election, in communities that are white or black or Mexican or Cuban or Muslim or Asian (just be white, and spend a little time in them alone). America is down. America is troubled. America is disturbed, confused, and tired. (Even illegal Mexicans are fleeing; there’s no work, you see.) We’re faced with increased taxes. (Showbama still isn't sure he likes the middle class, and don’t believe that his proposed tax hike applies ONLY to those making “$250,000 or more.”) Health insurance is failing, and you’ll be paying more for it (with less money to put clothes on your back and big-screen TVs in your living room and gas in your SUV) if national healthcare sees the light of day. Heck, you might not even have electricity anymore, if Showbama has his way and regulates coal-powered power plants out of business (now, there’s a stroke of brilliance). All the while, America is still confronted with an aging population (who, thanks to modern medicine, will live longer, with more chronic and expensive diseases, and forget more than any of us will ever know). And don’t forget that your youth is confused. (Should we play Wii, Xbox 360, PS3? Should we light our farts on fire and record it for youtube? There are just too many choices! It's, like, so confusing!)

Did I mention that our enemies are strong, maybe as strong as they were 8 years ago? And our allies are disgusted with us. Battles will continue; reparations will need to be made.

But hope and change is on the way. It comes in the guise of the first black president (forgive me if I don’t use Jesse’s made-up term of “African-American,” but I have friends from the islands who say it does not represent them).

“A government of the people, by the people, and for the people have not perished from the earth,” King Showbama said last night (bad grammar and all) during his acceptance speech at Grant Park, invoking the inevitable, John F. Kennedy. I wonder if he’ll rival JFK (or Slick Willie, for that matter) in his number of mistresses. (Yes, I know, what does screwing around in the Oval Office have to do with the ability to lead a country? Well...if your mind is elsewhere...Feed Your ADHD!)

Yes, King Showbama will ride in on his white unicorn and, qualified or not, experienced or not, with solid and coherent and convincing and achievable ideas or not, be challenged. It is up to him to prove he belongs. (As we know, the list of presidents who have not belonged is long, Republican and Democrat.)

Let’s hope King Showbama is up for the challenge, that he is, as Oprah called him, "The One."

And let’s pretend I’m from Missouri. Show me, King Showbama. Because I’ll be on your ass for the next four years.

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All Hail King Showbama

Can I Tally With My Tallywhacker?

Oh, my. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

A group of nudists in Florida (just a couple hours north of where I used to raise my children) would like to vote naked. They’ve actually petitioned the county supervisor of elections to set up a polling place within their colony, the largest nudie joint in the country.

The petition apparently didn’t specify if the poll watchers have to be naked…and from what I know of Pasco County, Florida, you’re looking at some seriously old poll watchers.

The earliest the colony would be allowed to vote in the buff would be 2010. That’s a relief. I’d like to get some serious data on how voting while staring at your friend’s fat behind affects your political judgement.

It also gives me enough time to join...um...for research purposes.

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Can I Tally With My Tallywhacker?