Flag you, Mr. President!

If anything ever seemed more fishy...






1. The President’s overpromise that everyone can keep their health plan
2. Putting the government in charge of your health insurance
3. Waiting in line
4. Government-mandated benefits
5. Preventive care does not save money (in the aggregate)
6. The House bill would increase short-term, 10th year, and long-term budget deficits
7. The President was incorrect — AARP opposes the bill
8. The bills would take Medicare savings needed for solvency and spend them on a new entitlement
9. Medicare is not a good example of government-run health care because Medicare is fiscally unsustainable
10. Even if the public option drops out of legislation, other parts of these bills would put private insurance under government control
11. The President says the public option will keep private insurers honest at the same time he proposes cutting payments to private insurers competing with the Medicare public option
12. The pending bills would move more cost-benefit decisions from insurers to people chosen by the government
13. Guaranteed renewal and guaranteed issue
14. The President says “we may be able to get even more than” the $80 B of budgetary savings that the pharmaceutical industry thought was a ceiling promised by the White House.
15. The President says he’s not “promoting” a single-payer plan, but the only concern he raises is a disruptive transition.
16. Many examples suggest that the government cannot compete on a level playing field with private firms.
17. The President trashes the U.S. Postal Service and undermines the case that government can run a complex health system.
18. The President understates the annual cost of new spending by a factor of two.
19. The President says that 2/3 of the offsets come from Medicare and Medicaid spending, while the only public estimate (for the House Bill) shows 21% instead. He also advocates a tax proposal that Congressional Democrats killed last Winter.
20. There are 46 million people who are technically uninsured, but the target population is probably one-third to one-half that size.

In case you forgot that address: flag@whitehouse.gov


Cross posted here.

*

Flag you, Mr. President!

Encrypted message

Last night Dr. Dave came up to periscope depth to issue a communiqué:

In position. All systems nominal.

I thought that was good news. Then I heard weapons systems powering up and he said:

They drew first blood. They drew first blood...

Anyway, I'm not sure what that means - maybe you can help. But it is also supposed to be a secret, so please forget you ever heard it and read this instead-

Lord of the Lies, pt 2 of...

The Fellowship breaks through to daylight, where the Taxrog dares not go. Their erstwhile leader, Limdalf the Wizard, has been lost. The fights have been valiant; their losses painful - yet the Fellowship carries on with their quest to destroy the Ring...

[Voto, mournful of Limdalf, wanting to change the subject] "Strider, tell me about Gondor."

[Strider] "It is a majestic land. Great gleaming towers and fruitful fields. The people live in peace and prosperity, and their generosity is legend. Liberty and equality rule the day." [hesitates] "Or so it was when I was a lad. The endless assaults from Mordor have eroded my people's resolve. Gondor remains standing, though the damage is severe. Even if we were to stem the tide of tyranny today, it would take an entire generation to see all the damage undone. The other nations of Middle Class no longer see Gondor as the shining city on a hill, but rather as just another realm declining into irrelevance. I weep for my country."

The band marches onward, the spirit of loss and hopelessness mounting with each footfall. At that unique moment in time when it seemed things could get no worse, the trampling sound of marching dorcs begins rumbling across the plain...

[Boremir McCain] "But I thought they couldn't come out in the daylight!?!"

[Sam] "Oh, no!"

[Jimdli, with bravado] "Be of good courage! Today is a good day to die, for a dorc!"

[Cheygolas] "Yea, verily, my swarthy little friend!"

[Merry] "They're getting closer!"

The stench of patchouli and unwashed underarms fills the air, as hordes of dorcs descend from all sides. En masse, the dorcs shriek out their war cry of "raaaaaaaaaciiiiiiist!" and begin their charge. The echoes of the dorcs' wail give way to the sound of clashing steel...

[Voto] "My blade glows like a supernova!" [Strikes nearby dorc]

Sarahwyn swings away at dorcs, Cheygolas fires rapidly. Strider, wielding his own sword in one hand and the crude blade of a fallen dorc in the other, flails at enemies like an overcaffeinated Sith. Bodies begin to pile up around around the heroes. Jimdli climbs atop a heap of dorc corpses to gain a better striking angle. They are holding their ground, but is it enough?

As exhaustion sets in, dorcs have the company of warriors fully encircled. A grim situation, indeed. The valiant band of patriots braces for a final stand, but the battle is interrupted by the clarion call of a dorc sounding notes on a bonghorn. Dorcs hear the call for retreat and dash from the scene. Chests heaving from exertion, the heroes assess the results. Four of their party are missing!

[Jimdli] "Oh no! The Fellowship is broken! The Ring has fallen into the hand of the enemy! Sauros will rule over us all!"

[Strider] "Be that yes or no, I will not go quietly into that dark night. I will die with my boots on. I will bathe in the warmth of my enemy's blood. Who is with me?"

[Cheygolas, Sarahwyn and Jimdli, raising their weapons. Yelling] "In defense of Gondor!!!" [quartet departs and heads for Gondor]
--------------------

The dorcs assemble some distance away. There is much jubilation among them, for they hold as captives Voto the Ringbearer, his staunch friend Sam, and the courageous Boremir. Merry the voter is nowhere to be found.

[Dorc captain] "This is a moment of triumph! Sauros shall reward us richly! Let us feast on government cheese and burn much weed!"

[Cheers from the company of dorcs. Celebratory slaps and other abuses upon the POWs]

The festivities begin. Dorcs gather in circles around the campfires and make disjointed sounds on their bongo drums. Hookahs are lit and copious amounts of subsidized foodstuffs are consumed. Soon they are reclined and relaxed. Many drift off into a dope-assisted sleep.

[Boremir, whispering] "Guys, this is our chance! Follow me!"

Boremir, Voto and Sam creep away. Utilizing his SERE training, Boremir silently leads the way through the jungle, away from the dozing dorcs.

[Voto] "What of the others? Did they survive?"

[Boremir] "Sadly, we have no way of knowing. We'll have to assume the worst. Now it is all up to us. We must make our way to the Beltway of Doom on our own."

[Sam, lip quivering from stifled sobs]

The three continue their weary walk to destiny...

--------------------

Merry, alone, finds his way into a forest of ancient trees. An unsettling sense of being watched causes his heart to race. A robed figure approaches.

[Limdalf] "Merry? What are you doing here?"

[Merry] "LIMDALF! We thought you were dead!"

[Limdalf] "Wha? Oh. No. Not at all. I just had to deal with those idiot tax collectors from the State of New York. They audit me every... single... year...! But I've dealt with that taxrog once and for all - I'm never doing business in New York again! Ha!"

[Merry] "What a relief!"

[Limdalf] "And then I flew out to Hawaii for a few days to play some golf with my buddies."

[Merry] "So that's where you've been all this time!"

[Limdalf] "So what about you? Why are you all alone?"

[Merry] "Tragedy, sir! A huge company of dorcs attacked us in broad daylight. I managed to escape, but I fear the others have been lost!" [crying]

[Limdalf, pulls out crystal ball] "Well, let's see about that." [Peers into ball] "The reception out here is terrible!" [Holds ball up, walks around a little] "OK, I got two bars now. That should be enough. Gotta keep it brief, though, as the Securitywraith has been known to eavesdrop on this channel."

[Limdalf, continuing to peer into ball] "Hmm. Uh-huh." [nods] "Uh-huh, uh-huh. OK" [puts ball away] "Beneath Sarubama's citadel, the Towering Ego, the half-white wizard has been breeding his own army of dorcs. Unlike most dorcs who are limited to sneaky behavior after dark and in smoke-filled, dimly-lit rooms, these dorcs can function in broad daylight. Often with the cooperation of the police. These are the ACORcs! They can be differentiated from normal dorcs by their bright red shirts."

[Merry] "Egads! But isn't it a little racist to call Sarubama 'half-white'?"

[Limdalf] "No, silly. I'm not talking about his skin. If you were to go to Ye Olde Home Depot to attempt a paint match, you'd find that Sarubama is exactly 50% "surrender flag" white and 50% "commie ideologue" red. Combined, that makes him pink. A pinko. But if I call him the Pink Wizard I catch hell from the No on 8 crowd. It's easier to just call him half-white."

[Merry] "I see."

[Limdalf] "The rest of the Fellowship have survived, but they are scattered. Boremir, Voto and Sam are continuing towards the Beltway. Strider, Jimdli, Sarahwyn and Cheygolas go to defend Gondor. And Sarubama is cooking up a scheme to nationalize the healthcare system and bankrupt Medicare."

[Ancient tree, excitedly] "WHAT!!!???! How dare he!"

[Limdalf and Merry startle at seeing a talking tree]

[tree] "I am AARPent, the seniormost seasoned citizen in this forest. Do not be alarmed. We have no issue with you, but we shall have our vengeance on Sarubama!"

AARPent lets out a yell which stirs numerous trees, both young and old, to action. They pick up signs and barge right into a townhall meeting going on in the Towering Ego. A fracas ensues and by the end the Towering Ego is much less towering...

[Limdalf] "Merry, let us go and catch up with our brothers in defense of Gondor!"

*

Encrypted message

REPOST: Car WHORES...Episode IV: A New Dope

Vacation is a bitch, day 2. Live with the reincarnation of this, willya?

In a galaxy all too present, all too friggin’ near…

President b. Hussein: My dear friends. Today, the United States of America turns a new page in the fight against Anthropogenic Global Warming. We stand on the precipice of either moving forward toward curbing fictional deadly greenhouse gases, the mere mention of which lines the pockets of great patriots such as Al Gore and George Soros and myself with triple-laundered twenties and fifties, or plummeting into great impending planetary doom (which would lead anyone in his right mind who takes 10 minutes to do some research to conclude: Hmm…those AGW freaks are nuts). HOWEVER! Thankfully, few of you doubt the Deity and most embrace The Inconvenient Truth and the taxation of your energy consumption because you don’t have enough common sense to question authority…when the authority represents your beloved, America-loving Democratic Party!

The press expresses its feelings.


As President of Government Motors, it is my duty, neigh, my sacred oath, to proclaim unto you that automobiles in this country shall, by the year 2016, ON AVERAGE, gain more miles for every gallon of gas (which by then, the CBO estimates, should cost about $472.99 per gallon) than ever before.


More press reaction.


[Thinks: This is WAY too easy.]


These are, indeed, difficult times that must be met with the strength of difficult people, as they used to call us before we ate from the forbidden fruit (and became regular, run-of-the-mill Zombiecrats). It is, therefore, with great pleasure, that I say unto you that vehicles made in America will gain an average of 400 mpg by the year 2016 (when I’m raking in a hell of a lot more per speech then Bill Clinton every dreamed of getting). It is time that America leads, instead of letting trees fall on our SUVs during violent, AGW-caused storms that we have never before seen (since we refuse to look up climate fluctuation data any older than, say, 1981).


It is time that American ingenuity and know-how puts us back at the forefront of automotive technology.


It is time that we get back to our roots and create streamlined and fuel-efficient marvels of engineering that benefit Our Lady Mother Earth without sacrificing style.


Yet, all the while, as we seek to cut back on the ability of a vehicle to travel beyond your driveway, as we raise taxes so incredibly high you will think Jimmy Carter should be immortalized on Mt. Rushmore, we will NOT skimp on safety to achieve our goals.


Gibbsy. GIBBSY! (Whispers: next slide….NEXT! AHEM!) As I was saying, we will make the future the present, by creating cars as dependable as Nancy Pelosi’s daily Botox treatments. Therefore, in addition to mandatory fuel mileage requirements, we will also increase maximum payloads that will bring about more carpooling and reduce traffic on our national highways, thereby improving everyone’s rush-hour commute.


We will achieve these goals by taxing each new vehicle by 4,000 percent of the purchase price, the overage directly payable to the U.S. Senate, for the upkeep of Social Security, Medicare, National Health Care, and free access to Meet the Depressed each Sunday and 24-hour broadcasts of NPR while those of us not fortunate enough to be Democrats wait on soup or bread lines (never both!) for daily rations. This foresight, by the government, for the people, dictated to the people, will put the future of the United States in our own glorious hands.


Final response from the press.

[SUCKAS!]


The president, reveling in his success, sneaks off to a back room in the White House to end another evening with a precious moment all to himself.

*

REPOST: Car WHORES...Episode IV: A New Dope

Teach the Children Well: Obugger Style

“There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the slippery slope between right and wrong, between good and evil, and it lies between the heights of man’s hopes and the depths of his depravity. This is the dimension of rhetoric and hatred. It is an area which we call the Liberal Zone.”



In the Liberal Zone, things are NEVER what they seem. The smiling face you see on the television ALWAYS has a hidden agenda. Sometimes, they are honest about it. Case in point, the Liberal Zone indoctrination program, Sezlikeme Street.



messiah: Hello children!



Children: All hail the messiah!!!



messiah: Thank you children. I’m here today to talk to you about lying.



Children: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!



messiah: Children, have you even wanted to lie to your parents, and you just didn’t know how?



Children: YEEEEESSSSSSS!!!



messiah: Well children, even the messiah needs to lie in fact, the messiah lies all the time. You just need to know how. Do you want to know how too?



Children: YEEEEESSSSS!!!



messiah: Well, here’s how… you deny that your going to do something, but then you do it anyway.



Small boy raises his hand.



Child: But messiah, won’t you get caught?



messiah: No, no, young man. You see, all you have to do is call it something else! The sheeple often don’t pay close attention anyway, so as long as you call it something other than what it is, they won’t catch you.



Children: Hooray for the messiah!!!! Call it something else!!!



messiah: That’s right children. If I want to nationalize the banking industry, and I don’t want the people to protest, what do I do?



Children: CALL IT SOMETHING ELSE!!!



messiah: If I want to accuse regular citizens of doing what my goons do?



Children: CALL IT SOMETHING ELSE!!!



messiah: If I want an single payer plan that will kill off granny and ration care?



Children: CALL IT SOMETHING ELSE!!!



messiah: If I want to pass a porkulus, which I did, heh-heh, and I don’t want the people to see that it’s just to pay off my supporters?



Children: CALL IT SOMETHING ELSE!!!



messiah: If the economy is still going down, and unemployment is still going up?



Children: CALL IT SOMETHING ELSE!!!



messiah: You have learned well children. Here, have some ACORN tee-shirts!



This episode of Sezlikeme Street is brought to you by the letter “F,” for F**K You! Next week, we’ll learn how to manipulate the lapdog media into vilifying your enemies.



As you can see, my friends, the deeper one gets into the Liberal Zone, the less truth you see.

*

Teach the Children Well: Obugger Style

Very Scary BarryCare

[MSNBC Studios]

[token conservative] "But Chris, the CBO, yes that CBO, said it will balloon the deficit while..."

[Chrissy Matthews] "Look, I know that you like the idea of millions going without health insurance. You're just an evil-mongering swastik.."

[Matthews, interrupting himself] "Just a sec... We go live now to Dearest President Obama's Townhall meeting."

[Obama, onscreen] "Thank you folks, for your civility. A vigorous and robust debate is vital, and we can do a lot better than the last meeting in New Hampshire. There were snipers and nazis everywhere at that meeting. I felt a little like Secretary of State Bill Cl... Oops! Sorry, Hill! I keep saying that! I felt a little like Hillary in Bosnia when she had to go all Matrix dodging bullets and stuff."

[Matthews, hushed tone] "Can you believe it! The President stormed right through a barrage of nazi gunfire to address the crowd. He's so brave, like MacArthur tearing through Europe."

[token conservative] "Chris, Patton tore up Europe. MacArthur was in the Pacific."

[Matthews] "Shut up, liar, or you'll end up in the Pacific!"

[Obama, onscreen, surrounded by purpleshirt SEIUnicorns with billy clubs] "Let's take a question"

[Random person] "Mr. President, what can I do to improve my odds before the Death Panel?"

[Obama] "Let me be perfectly clear. There is no Death Panel. That is a vicious lie cooked up by that vicious liar who couldn't even beat Joe in the veep debate. Any so-called Death Panel would be just another gov't committee, and we know how inefficient committees are. My plan is all about efficiency - there will be NO committees. Instead, there is a complex formula and a spreadsheet that will determine medical outcomes. Just a few keystrokes and a few mouse clicks, and the correct cell on the spreadsheet will be highlighted. Just like that! Imagine the savings! For example, say you're a young gay progressive illegal alien on welfare. You have a lot of life ahead of you. The spreadsheet will say that you'll receive the best of care, with no regard for cost. On the other hand, if you're a retired oil executive who needs knee surgery so you can keep playing tennis on the weekends, well, we're just going to put a plastic bag over your head and push you down the stairs. Very efficient! We'll even put the spreadsheet on the web at www.deathgrid.gov, so you can see whether you should even bother waiting in line for a doctor or whether you should just sit in your big disgusting SUV idling with the garage door closed 'til you finally die of monoxide poisoning."

[Matthews] "I'm tingling! Are you tingling?"

[Rahm E, onscreen whispering something to Obama]

[Obama, pissedly] "Now I'm just learning that my fellow liberals are all a bunch of wussies. They're folding under the pressure of the unruly ginned-up astroturfer mobs. The Senate has removed the deathgrid provision. Bastages! They're afraid of a handful of nazis and an ex-governor with a Twitter account."

[crowd cheers]

[Obama] "This is not the end!!!!!!!!!!" [stomps off platform angrily]

-----------------------
x-posted at innominatus

*

Very Scary BarryCare

Know Your Plants: Roxanicus Mayerica

It seems that some of the foliage just couldn´t wait for PresBO´s next Town Hall farce meeting.

Case in point: a one, Roxana "I´m not a doctor, but I play one at town meetings" Mayer couldn´t, so, one that Sheila Jackson Lee held in Houston on Tuesday would have to do.

Patterico rocks the right-blogosphere with his findings.

If you missed the links above, they´re here:

Part One

Part Two

I guess, all things considered, it´s not really all that shocking that voters now trust the GOP over Dems on the health care issue.


Cross posted here.

*

Know Your Plants: Roxanicus Mayerica

What a shock! Surgeons don´t like it when Obama makes shit up at their expense

First, Stuttering Sotero:



Now, The American College of Surgeons:

Yesterday during a town hall meeting, President Obama got his facts completely wrong. He stated that a surgeon gets paid $50,000 for a leg amputation when, in fact, Medicare pays a surgeon between $740 and $1,140 for a leg amputation. This payment also includes the evaluation of the patient on the day of the operation plus patient follow-up care that is provided for 90 days after the operation. Private insurers pay some variation of the Medicare reimbursement for this service.

Again, Obama (a.k.a. Stuttering Sotero) - Click the link, there´s actually a video:

"Right now, doctors a lot of times are forced to make decisions based on the fee payment schedule that's out there. ... The doctor may look at the reimbursement system and say to himself, 'You know what? I make a lot more money if I take this kid's tonsils out.'"

Again, The American College of Surgeons:

That remark was ill-informed and dangerous, and we were dismayed by this characterization of the work surgeons do. Surgeons make decisions about recommending operations based on what’s right for the patient...The President’s remarks are truly alarming and run the risk of damaging the all-important trust between surgeons and their patients.

Read their whole statement here.

If Obama wants to form another U.S.P.S. (U.S. Physicians Service), he better be careful what he says, they could 'go scalpal' on his ass.


Cross posted here.

*

What a shock! Surgeons don´t like it when Obama makes shit up at their expense

Long, Strange Trip

Greetings Feed Your ADHD readers, innominatus here! I don't like to talk about it, but I possess a certain gift of clairvoyance. It kind of comes and goes, so don't bother asking for lotto numbers. But I do feel like I'm about to have a vision... Wait a sec... yeah, there it is...

I'm, I'm, I'm seeing a car... It's stuffed with people and luggage... They're on the outskirts of town heading down the interstate... It's Dr. Dave and family!... Whoa, Dr. Dave is slowing down to pick up a hitchhiker... Maybe I can hear the conversation...

"Daddy, why does the hippie smell like that?"

"Sorry, Mr. Hitchhiker, the kid can be kind of abrupt. Dunno where he learned that kind of behavior."

"No probem, sir. It's probably because I'm a vegan. People say I smell like compost."

"Vegan, huh?"

"Yeah, meat it murder."

"I'm happy to give you a ride for a while, but don't start a bunch of moonbatty crap or it'll be a short trip."

"Moonbat? Listen, you car-owning, gas-guzzling hater, you owe me this ride!"

"Last chance to seal your flapping lips!"

Umm, the vision is kind of fading... Oh, here it is again... It's a little while later, the family car is out in the country... The moonbat is rolled in a tarp and bungeed to the roof rack... Dr. Dave has a second-degree shoulder separation from reaching behind him too many times... One too many "Are we there yets?" from the back seat I suppose... Dr. Dave is mumbling something... Sounds like "I just gotta get across the state line... Just gotta get across the state line... Then I can ditch the..."

Bummer, I lost the vision again.

Well, until I see something else, here's something I posted on my site the other day...

Lord of the Lies, part 1 of...

At the secretive elven fortress of Rivendell, the various races of Middle Class gather to discuss the rising tempest that threatens their very existence...

[Voto Baggins, the voter] "Gee, I sure wish Elron Reagan were still here."

[Rush Limdalf, the gray wizard] "Alas, he has saddled up and ridden away to Uttermost West. We are on our own."

[Boremir McCain, the human] "Yes, I remember it well. I was a footsoldier in the Reagan Revolution, when Elron and his allies smote the dark forces and snatched the Ring of Electoral Power away from the enemy."

[Limdalf] "But the enemy was not fully vanquished. He remains a disembodied force of evil. If he were to reclaim the Ring, our way of life would be ended. Even today, he amasses an army of dorcs, ogres and internet trolls. Soon they will march. The Ring must be destroyed! It must not fall into the hands of the enemy!"

[Boremir] "What if we use the Ring against them? I, a man of stout heart and courage, could wield the power of the Ring wisely. I could fight pork bills and grant amnesties!"

[Limdalf] "No. The power of the Ring is too seductive. None who wear it can resist its urges. Soon you would be reduced to a power-hungry incumbent like the Ringwraiths."

[collective gasp of horror]

[Bobby Jimdli, the dwarf] "I shall destroy it!" [forcefully brings down ax upon ring, ring is unscathed]

[Limdalf] "The Ring is forged of ancient things. It can only be destroyed in the furnace it was forged in: The Beltway of Doom!"

[collective gasp of horror]

[Voto Baggins] "Whatever shall we do?"

[Dick Cheygolas, the elf] "We shall gather ourselves an army of our own, and march on the Beltway. We will see the blight of the Ring removed from Middle Class once and for all!"

[Limdalf] "No. The all-seeing Eye of Sauros would see you coming. We will succeed with only a small band of brave patriots. Who volunteers to bear the Ring?"

[silence]

[Voto, sadly] "I shall bear the Ring"

[Jimdli] "But he's just an ordinary voter! He can't bear the burden the Ring would place on him!"

[Sam, another voter] "Where Voto goes, I go!"

[Cheygolas] "You have my bow! And my double-barreled quail gun!"

[Attendees cringe slightly at mention of quail gun]

[Jimdli] "You have my ax!"

[Boremir] "You have my sword!"

[Strider Norris, the Texas Ranger] "You have my blade and my dazzling array of roundhouse kicks!"

[Limdalf] "You have my staff!"

[Merry, another voter] "I am named for Christmas, not that PC 'happy holidays' hogwash. I shall go , too! You have my vote and my campaign contributions!"

[Pimpin, another voter] "Yo, yo! You gots Pimpin's beats!" [begins to breakdance]

[Limdalf] "Pimpin, you are not worthy. Leave. Now. I don't care what Michael Steele said."

[Voto] "Then let us be off!"

[Limdalf] "Wait! The Fellowship is not complete! We need a replacement for Pimpin!"

[Craned necks, looks about the room. No replacement is to be found. Disappointment.]

[clop, clop of hoofbeats]

[Sarahwyn arrives and dismounts from her horse] "I know you weren't expecting me until later in the story. But being the Princess of Rohan was getting us nowhere. It is so distant. I resigned so I could be freed to fight bigger battles. Besides, Wormtongue lost his job. I feel quite vindicated!"

[Limdalf] "The Fellowship is complete! Let us journey to the Beltway!"

---------------------

A day's ride to the east, the Fellowship is atop a small rise in the midst of high mountains. A huge flock of birds soars overhead...

[Strider] "Hide! It is the eyes of the enemy!"

[Fellowship scrambles to hide under rocks and in crevices]

[Cheygolas] "Hey, birds!"

[Voto] "Cheygolas, no! They'll snitch our position to flag@mordor.gov!"

[Cheygolas] "I said hey birds! I got your stimulus right here!" [Flips The Bird gesture to the birds]

[Limdalf] "We're safe. They didn't see us."

----------------------

The group decamps and continues the journey. Crossing an icy and treacherous mountain pass, the mountain rumbles and an avalance assaults the party...

[Limdalf] "Run! This is the work of Sarubama, the half-white wizard!"

[Voto] "But the MSM said Sarubama is a good guy! Why would he do this to us?"

[Limdalf] "He has been seduced by the schemes of Sauros! Run! Run for the Mines!"

Reaching the Mines of Moroyourmoney safely, the party is confronted by an enigmatic door inscribed with ancient runes.

[Sarahwyn] "Oh, not this again!" [Draws custom AR-15 chambering .50 Beowulf] [Blows door to smithereens]

[Jimdli, wincing, rubbing fingertips in ear] "Wow, that was kind of loud! But enter, for here you will be treated to some real southern hospitality. It will be such a joy to see my ancestors again!"

Entering the cavern, the Fellowship see that the once-grand southern architecture has fallen into ruin and disrepair...

[Limdalf] "The demoncrats have been here. Nothing but waste and ruin left in their wake. We must not tarry!"

Reaching an alcove, a sort of monument is found. Among the old dry bones and rubble an old book is found. Limdalf dusts it off and begins reading...

[Limdalf] "We are trapped here. The demoncrats have us outnumbered and have superior fundraising. The demoncrat leaders, Blanco and Nagin, have destroyed almost everything. Here we make our last stand."

[Jimdli, begins to choke up]

[Limdalf, continuing from the book] "But the demoncrats were too greedy. They dug up Moroyourmoney too fast and too deep. They unearthed that fell creature of legend, the Taxrog! Before the mighty Taxrog, even the dorcs are afraid!"

Suddenly our intrepid adventurers are ambushed by dorcs and a particularly foul ogre... A violent melee ensues... Dorcs fall to the left and to the right. Blasts of .50 Beowulf and quail shot dismember the enemy forces. But more dorcs pour in... The battle is grim...

[Voto] "Strider!" [Voto hews down a dorc with his short sword, which is glowing in the presence of liberals] "Strider, doesn't that ogre kind of remind you of a certain obese documentary filmmaker?"

[Strider] "Yes, he does. And I know how to deal with movie bad guys!" [Strider kicks the ogre in the gut. The ogre coughs out a whole bucket of hot wings and a couple apple fritters]

[Voto, between sword strikes] "Strider, keep it up! He's getting weaker!"

Strider continues his onslaught of kicks and spinning backfists. Eventually all the (turkey) stuffing is beaten out of the ogre and the odious beast collapses. The dorcs begin to flee...

[Voto] "We've won!"

[Limdalf] "No! The dorcs flee, but not from our punishment." [Cups hand to ear] "Oh, no! It's the Taxrog! Run! Dash to the bridge that Reaches Across the Aisle! Cross it to the right and don't look back!"

The band of brave patriots reaches the bridge, the Taxrog hot on their heels. The Taxrog is gaining on them as they near the other side. Limdalf makes a valiant stand against the ravenous monster...

[Limdalf] "Fell creature, I command you!" [Strike staff on bridge. Blue/white arcs of AM-frequency lightning surround him] "This far, and NO FARTHER!" [Bridge collapses, Taxrog plummets into the abyss]

In an act of desperation, the Taxrog Indiana Joneses Limdalf's leg with his fiery whip and whisks Limdalf into the darkness below....

[Fellowship, screaming] "LIMDALLLLLLLLLLLF!"

*

Long, Strange Trip

REPOST: Coincidence? -- Vol. 1

Once in a while you come across a U.S. Congressman and wonder, just where did he come from? This repost from earlier this year just may shed some light...


An occasional series on people of the political zeitgeist who curiously look like someone, or something, else...

Bat Boy

California Rep. Henry "The Thing" Waxman

I really think not...

h/t: IMAO

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REPOST: Coincidence? -- Vol. 1

On My Secret Mission and Skillful Squatters

I have been asked to take on a dangerous mission.

Those who shall remain nameless have implored me to bear sword and shield and harness the team for the Caravan and cross over from friendly red state territory into the evil and treacherous woodlands and hidden rolling valleys of witchcraft and cowflop in blue state territory.

I do not accept this mission lightly. It is quite certain I may never return, for I am told that where I am going there is a high probability that I will be blamed for spray painting swastikas outside the offices of Congressmen who yell at their constituents. Or I may be accused of not being representative of true America. I may even be blamed for pasting posters of Obuggerjoker on mail boxes and light posts and the faces of toll booth operators.

But I am not afraid. I shall accept my responsibility as did the Founders, with the belief that where I am going and what I am doing is imperative to the future of the Republic. My children's grandparents, after all, are members of AARP, and it would be extremely helpful if they help us defeat this evil scroll I call Obuggercare. And some of them need a strong talking to.

This perilous journey, of course, leaves the gates to the mighty ADHD fortress unguarded. Or so it would seem.

It has come to my attention that skillful squatters, some more skillful than I in the arts of fending off and belittling moonbats with mere words crafted into phrases and sentences and, ultimately, devastating paragraphs, have agreed to buttress this burg with much satire, snark, and insanity. And I kneel in their honor for taking on this quest of their own.

So I would ask of you, dear reader, during the next week, while I periodically schedule posts of past ramblings you may not have read (and may not want to read now), that you give these skillful squatters your kindest attention and regard, while commenting aplenty, and verily paying visitation upon their kingdoms as well.

That means, dear reader, I ask that you give innominatus, Mike, and Ross (should he choose to accept this mission) a warm welcome, and the same incredible support against moonbat trollers, and leave the same delightful commentary, that you've always given me.

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On My Secret Mission and Skillful Squatters

Am I Bitchy

In honor of our esteemed Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, and her verbal abuse of a young Congolese student, I think I owe Mrs. Clinton a song.

After all, it's not every day the Secretary of State of the United States of America, our chief diplomat of foreign policy, our representative of goodwill and decorum and class to the rest of the world, gets medieval on your ass.

Particularly when you're asking a question through a translator.

Asked what "Mr. Clinton" thought about a Chinese trade deal with the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Mrs. Clinton had the following response:

"You want me to tell you what my husband thinks?" Clinton replied, clearly irked by the thought of being her husband Bill's spokeswoman. "My husband is not secretary of state, I am," she replied. "If you want my opinion I will tell you my opinion. I am not going to be channeling my husband."

For the full effect, see and hear it for yourself:



Therefore, in the Queen's honor, I present this (with apologies to Metallica via Diamond Head):

My mother was a witch, she was burned alive
Thankless little bitch, wouldn’t put up with my lies
Take her down now, she can’t even see my place
All Botoxed and lawyered-up, I’ll never admit disgrace

Born in forty-seven, everyone owes me
Gotta see em make em know me
See their bodies vote for me
Take my time

Am I bitchy? yes, I am
Am I bitchy? I am secretary of state, yes, I am

As I watched my husband lie, I never lost my head
Revenge now I sought, to become president
Taking no chances, still Obama beat me dearly
Made me secretary of state, so he can keep enemy near

Born in fourty-seven, everyone owes me
Gotta see em make em know me
See their bodies vote for me
Take my time

Am I bitchy? yes, I am
Am I bitchy? I am secretary of state, yes, I am

On to Africa now, I’ll show you my pride
Ask what my husband thinks, Ill cut you down to size
You may be young and naive, but your insults stink
I’m the secretary of state, better ask what I think

Am I bitchy? yes, I am
Am I bitchy? I am secretary of state

Evil violin solo!

My soul is longing for, await my throne
Sent to avenge nothingness, find myself alone
My face is long forgot, my face got botox scars
Tired and lonely whore, I want presidential cars

Am I bitchy? yes, I am
Am I bitchy? I am secretary of state

Am I bitchy? yes, I fucking am
Am I bitchy? I am secretary of state, yeah

The incident with the Congo kid, naturally comes days after this funny business noted by IMAO, principally that Women, Action & the Media slammed the Washington Post over the below video characterizing Mrs. Clinton as a bitch, leading WAPO to apologize for about 2 friggin's seconds of a fairly fun and pretty non-partisan satirical parody.

Wimps.

Still, on one level, I have to say kudos to the Post...for originally telling the truth...for a change.

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Am I Bitchy

To My Marietta Reader

You've spent in toto, or roughly, 5 to 6 hours here since Friday...and counting.

Yeah. I'm watching you watch me. And I'm wondering.

Would you like me to answer any questions?

Perhaps about what a right-wing extremist wears to bed (hint, it's cashmere and made by people who work in overseas sweat shops)? Do I hang upside down when I sleep (hint, only when the sun is out)? Do I plug into El Rushbo's main CPU when I awake (hint, just to learn where the next town hall meeting is being held)? Do I press my Nazi armbands or send them to the Vietnamese for dry cleaning (hint, I get a happy ending either way)? Am I hatching a plot with my fellow right-wing blogger friends to throw feces at the president as he tries to play the links at his (OUR) $29 million vacation rental at Martha's Vineyard? (Hint, you need to get a life.)

Do I eat young children or keep them in cages in my basement, letting them out only when I need them to fetch things...like a clean towel (hint, it depends on if they've been able to earn me 150% return on any given day)? Do I really have 7,001 gold bars, and do I really hate evil national health care for all (hint, I actually have 12,356, but most are undeclared; and, yes, I'm the terribly stubborn fact that Obugger's been warning you about)?

I can answer many, many questions. Send me an email to let me know who you are. The address is in the sidebar.

I'd at least like to know who is trolling me.

UPDATE: So...I'm a little late in getting this update up, what with a boring company meeting and then a not-so-boring liberal witch burning to attend: There is no troll. We have a new reader here. You can find that new reader raising their hand in the comments section.

So...once again...Dr. Dave needs to go back and do some continuing education in the practice of political medicine, so my powers of perception are focused on the right people: Moonbats.

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To My Marietta Reader

A Day in the Life of a Right-Wing Extremist

Not a lot of time for blogging today. I've a doozy of an idea growing in my head, but the wife has me scheduled for church (even Nazis must give up their narcissism for an hour a week).

And then I need to spend the rest of the day working on a secret nefarious business plan for toppling the government. You know: a right-wing extremist's work is never done.

However, since you're here, I beg you to click over to Big Hollywood and read this, by the always incredible Moxie. Allow me to give you just a little taste:

9:00 AM:
Crawl out of bed, go downstairs and hit the “on” switch for my Anger Manufacturing Plant, located conveniently in the basement — right next to my wine cellar.

9:10 AM:
Sign a few five-figure checks from the big drug and insurance companies and instruct Consuela to go deposit them in my bank account.

9:30 AM:
Go back to sleep with my life-sized Founding Fathers dolls, dream of freedom from the socialist Obama regime.

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A Day in the Life of a Right-Wing Extremist