Ain’t We Got Fun?

October 7, 2008

My, my, my.  Isn’t this just a pickle? I like being right, but there is a limit.I’m here to tell you, I’ve never had this much fun, and I’ve been to two world fairs and a goat fucking.  Politics, finance, world order itself hang in the balance, and it gets no better than that.

In just the last month as I reckon it the federal government has injected or is on the verge of injecting over TWO Trillion (that’s trillion with a T) bucks into the financial market.  What comes after trillion? it’s million,billion, trillion….but what comes next?  Whatever it is, we’ve sunk a quarter of one of them into this mess.  In fact, I’m not even counting the fannie and freddie buyout, so probably more like 3 trillion.

Yet, amazingly, no one is to blame.   I keep stopping as I write this.  Laughter overcomes me.  A complete and utter dearth of leadership has created the situation, and suddenly we find that the two candidates aren’t really capable of leading either.  Given an incredibly devastating economic crisis just 2 months prior to the election, and McCain panics whilst Obama cowers.  The cowering isn’t exactly a surprise.  It conforms to both the voting record, and the lack of forthrightness on the part of Barack.  The panic was a little surprising.  I take it that’s what a bonafide hero does when faced with a situation beyond his understanding.  Lacking the tools to capture the essence of the crisis it is better to do be doing something useless than nothing at all.  I remember the mindset clearly from my time in the military.  I believe they teach it at The Basic Officers Course.

So what we have is a candidate willing to trounce longtime friendships as if they mean nothing, and a candidate incapable of dealing with those issues not related to beans, bullets, and bandages.  Let’s look back:

We could’ve had Hillary.  Mitt.  Guiliani.  A host of others.  All uniquely unqualifed, but gifted with the egocentricity needed to believe one capable of performing that job.   Bill probably would be nice to have around right now.  Would be nice if he hadn’t used up his term limits before he achieved wisdom.  Oh well.  What we have are these two knuckleheads.  Both of whom, coincidently, have less executive experience, and less personal appeal than the vice presidential candidate.  The hockey mom.  Not the inveterate liar and longtime defender of current social policy that has us where we are today.  Of course, I’m partial to a well turned calve.  Beats worn out political bullshit everytime.

Anyway.  I just came by to chuckle.  Spending what you don’t have got us here.  Blame whoever you want, but that’s what did it.  Your friends, neighbors, coworkers…maybe you, maybe a little me.  that’s who got us here.  Bad spending, atrocious voting.  Accepting that in a free and democratic society the government should be bailing out private enterprise.  We suck folks, and we just keep sucking.  Come the first Tuesday in November we’re going to suck again.  We chose these two to lead us to the promised land?  We’re we drinking?  Hopped up on speedballs and Latte’?  Whatever the case.  This is frigging hilarious.

awkward conciliatory and encouraging afterward:

If your job is sound, and you aren’t in hock up to your genitalia; if you spend little and conserve copiously you should come through this mess ok.  If not, well, tough shit.  You were warned.

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Two monkeys, a rabbit, and an idiot preserve

February 8, 2008

    If you’ve been here before you may have already heard the expression “like 2 monkeys fucking a football.”  What it means is there’s a whole lot of activity, and not much accomplishment.  Well, it has defintely been that kind of week.  This may turn into scatalogical drivel in a minute, so you can stop here if you’d like.  You’ve probably learned something already, and the value of that should never be underestimated.

    I missed all but Monday at work.  My daughter’s been running a fever, and gasping, and wheezing, and on our third trip…yep, third, the little shitheel looks up from his stethoscope and proclaims “I think she has pneumonia.”  Now I’m not a physician, but I’m thinking from day one it’s bronchitis or pneumonia, and told him so on the first visit.  This of course has caused a bit of an epiphany.

    I don’t use doctors much.  I find their cost generally outweighs their value, especially since pharmaceuticals are generally readily available on the sidewalk out front.    Having learned over the course of the last couple of months that the system is incredibly rife with profiteering and outright fraud I question the intelligence of getting the government anymore involved.  The hand specialist that has been treating me is raking in (this is an estimate based on actual time spent working on my hand) 18k an hour.  I don’t mind this so much, but had i not had insurance I would’ve stitched the frankenstein finger and let the other bones set on their own.  I doubt I’d be any worse off, though the scarirng may have scared small children; an undervalued gift that.

   Then the pharmacy was the original clusterfuck from hell.  My bad.  I went to walmart.  Generally I find walmart to be sufficient to the need for supplying things like paper, flour, and shampoo.  My experience has been that while semiliterate cretins would serve the rest of us best by being expunged from the gene pool, a decent alternative is putting them to work, and walmart serves this function admirably.  You do not, however, want them filling your prescriptions for you.  I spent an hour trying to assist them in getting it right as they ran hither and yon to no little effect.  I finally just took my prescriptions back, complimented them on their exemplary display of ineptitude, and contemplated as I exited the premises how much I would rather eat shit from the dispenser than go through that again.  I then went to the Walgreens, and for 1.05 more was out the door in 12 minutes.  Another thoroughly satisfied customer.

    The pace de resistance to my week was when I arrived home to find general tso wrapped in the embrace of an entirely to dead Roscoe.  I knew that sooner or later his lechery would be the death of him, but always assumed he would die of a heart attack while pulling his 3 pound furry jackhammer routine on my ankle.  I was a bit put out by it all.  Does this mean that that fucking cat is a better lay than me, or was it a simple case of his number was up?  Whatever the case, I suppose I should be thankful that he gave me something to contemplate other than how deeply I despise the human race at this particular juncture.  I left out politics here, as it would get me back to full roar on the whole despise thing, but I’ll break it out after I chase a couple of rum and cokes with a couple vicodin….kind of a Heath Ledger cocktail.


update

September 21, 2007

I’m writing this for Con because he worries.

It’s been a busy couple of weeks.  I was contemplating my existence the other day over at O’malleys.  I was nursing a rum and coke because it beats slamming shots when you’re in a rut.  Slamming shots when you are in a rut almost always results in a felony or two, and getting them miraculously turned into misdemeanors isn’t cheap.

O’malleys is not Cheers.  O’malleys is Cheers amped up on reality and testosterone, and then inebriated beyond the point of reason.  Nobody yells “Hey Norm” when Norm walks in.  Half of them have kicked Norm’s ass, and the other half had theirs kicked by him.  It doesn’t mean they won’t buy Norm a drink, but they are neither happy nor sad to see him. O’malley’s Ambivalent Bar and Eatery. Except they don’t serve food. 

So I’m sitting there when Smiley Joe walks in.  Since creativity and drunkenness do not comingle, he is called Smiley Joe because he smiles all the time.  A tourist mistook this affability for weakness once, and was literally slapped silly for it.  Smiley was smiling the whole time.  He smiles a lot, but he’s nobodies punk.  I bought him a Jaegerbomb ( a strange concoction that mixes booze that tastes like castor oil with an energy drink that tastes like shit), and we talked about the mundane for awhile.

I’ll finish it later…i need sleep.  I work tomorrow and then head for Michigan.  My latest scheme to enable me to quit working is turning into an awful lot of work.


the book report

September 7, 2007

The assignment:  Give a two minute presentation on The Giver by Louis Lowry.

The instructions:  Explain why you liked the book, and reasons others your age would like the book.

The questions my daughter asked:  What if I didn’t like the book?  What if the book has no redeeming social value?

The directive:  Well then just make something up.   (Allegedly with a threatening tone).

The decision (as it was put to me):   I’m going to say what I really thought of the book.

My response:   Take something good to read in in school suspension. (smiling, and with just a hint of defeatism).

the book report:  a scathing 2:00 rebuke of a book that ended “but others might like it.”

The question:  Was there anything about the book that you liked?  (Allegedly with a hint of malice.)

The response:  It was short.

   good kid

author’s note:  all errors in this communication related to punctuation, grammar and sentence structure are mine.  The content is as close to exact as I can make it, having had the story related to me by my daughter.


You should stop and taste the flowers

August 27, 2007

   Carmine had a bad day.  Not horrific, but not good.  What he needed was to go for a walk.

As he strolled along the canal at twilight, he noticed a young lady bending over on the path ahead.

He asked her what she was doing.  She replied that she was smelling the flowers.  It’s always good to stop and smell the flowers.

Amused, Carmine smiled at the woman , and then with a cavalier bow bent and…

woke, laying in a mulch bed.  His wallet missing, his head throbbing, and the taste of rose petals in his teeth.

Carmine was having a bad day


More road rage stories

August 17, 2007

    There was a great road rage incident today out by the airport.  I wasn’t in it, but had the good fortune of being right behind it.  It’s kind of a funny road.  It’s a T with a split in it, and it carries 3 lanes of traffic that split again about 1/2 a block north.  The cars come together there all the time, but I’ve yet to be stopped by an accident.  On the way to work two cars did the swerve thing, and came close enough together that they both ended stalled right in the middle of the road.  This incredibly stout woman in the passenger seat of the one car screams out the window “you should learn how to drive.”  In the other car is a runtish man of about 90 that can probably see just a  little between the top of the steering wheel and the dashboard.  The litte guy had moxie though, and he yelled back ” you should learn to shut your coc&$ucker.”

   Well I was just tickled as shit.  The mornings have been rough lately, and entertainment on the way to work is a good thing.  I’ve been scowling a lot lately, and a nice little altercation between inept motorists was just what the doctor ordered.

It gets better.   This woman gets beet red, and lumbers out of her car.  She struggles to achieve a totally erect position, but I have to tell you she was as imposing as a grizzly when she did.   So I’m thinking “this is to good to be true…I’m going to get to watch a little old man get the supreme crap kicked out of him by a semiambulatory behemoth of a woman.”  So,  I shut the car off, and I pull a Dew out of the cooler.  Then this crazy wench does the strangest thing…

   She reaches in between the two largest breasts  I’ve ever seen.  I’m almost sure they had their own gravity and were orbiting around her.  She pulls out this gargantuan crucifix and starts praying for the dude.

  If she prayed for him to start his car up and drive away while calling her a “loony B1tch” her prayers were answered.  I’m not so much for the praying, but if divine intervention placed me right there, right then, I’ll happily kiss gods ass for at least a month of sundays.


Why I’m ok with Hate Speech

August 17, 2007

    I know, I know, now you don’t like me.  If you don’t, you’re not the sort of person I wish to know anyway, so, “darn it.”

     I am ok with it.  Hate speech I mean.  The first amendment grants the right, and I’m afraid that when we start limiting hate speech we set an awful precendent.  Also, hate crimes being punished more severely than other crimes is absolutely unamerican.

     Part of growing older is hopefully becoming wiser.  I haven’t hated anyone or anything in a long time, and I’ve had some run of the mill heinous shit happen to me in my lifetime.  Nothing others haven’t gone through and survived.  No being dipped into a vat of sulphuric acid by Columbian Drug lords high on crack and bored out of their skulls or anything.

     This absence of malice does not however keep me from picking on hillbillies, republicans, liberals, and almost every other socially defineable group at one time or another.  For delivery purposes sometimes it sounds absolutely hateful.  I could be punished I suppose, and if you happen to know a leggy blonde about so tall with legs up to here let her know I’ve been a bad boy if you would please.

   I’m rambling.  Surprised?  Not if you’ve been here before you aren’t.  What I’m working my way around to is hate speech is a good thing.  It’s honest, heartfelt, emotion, vociferously delivered in a manner that allows the rest of us to know just what a sorry assed human the speaker is.  

     An example of this would be poor old George.  The hate speech directed at him is as voluminous and colorful as that directed at any president since Truman.  It’s not only vitriolic, but as often as not totally untrue, but fortunately protected by the first Amendment.  Same goes for the trash falling out of Baracks mouth lately.  This is obviously a man in search of a crusade that can make him seem like the rest of the big kids.  All it’s shown is that he is bigoted against mass quantities of the human race, and probably is justified in his feelings.  To deny him the right to express it would be as wrong as shutting down Daily Kos or White Noise Insanity.  They have almost nothing of value to impart to the conversation, but at least they allow us to know who they are.

   Just so you don’t think I’m picking on liberals,  I read Ann Coulters column today, and while clever, informative, and well written as always, it was just more hate speech spewing from the mouth of an overpublicized pundit.  Same goes for the nonsense coming out of O’reilly, Hannity, and the list continues almost forever.

   The reason we need hate speech should be obvious.  Our nation would stop communicating altogether if we were not allowed charachter assassination and verbal evisceration.  Republicans bashing gays, and gays bashing neo-cons.  Liberals screaming vitriolic antiwar rhetoric into microphones and besmirching the military, and the military vilifying the lefties.  Capitol hill would be the quietest place on the planet.  Quieter than an integrated prison, which would be silent as a church mouse.

   You see, the truth is we’re not all that gifted individually.  Check out the blogworld.  How often do you find a post you are really consumed by?   Almost never.  Hateful is usually more interesting than the sycophantic bullshit, but both forms of insidous stupidity are easy to remove from your daily reading.  I for one wish to hell I had a blogroll for work.  Just put on the people worth listening to, and be able to not even notice the braindead trogs that are so common.  I don’t, so what I do is not converse with those I find repugnant, and that’s the option we all have.

What we do, is hate…either publically or in little private enclaves, we hate each other, and its a beautiful thing.  Because that notwithstanding, as a society we remain incredibly successful.  All the things that make human beings better than shit tossing monkeys (now the animal lovers hate me) continue to flourish in the midst of all this ire.  As we age, for the most part, the hate will go away for most of us.  What will be left is maybe a little guilt, and a lot of wisdom about how the rest of society thinks.  So if you have it to say, say it.  You can start with me.  I’d prefer you do it intelligently, but if all you can come up with is honkie, or cracker, or whitey, or whatever the hell…run with it.  i don’t mind at all.