Archive for the ‘Politics: our country is still run by idiots’ Category

I’ll be honest, I had high hopes for an all out moron-a-thon of a Republican primary leading up to 2012. But other than the Palin doppelganger from Minnesota, the race has been pretty bland.  And even Bachmann has done a pretty good job of keeping the muzzle on, aside from fringe slip-ups like wishing Elvis happy birthday on the anniversary of his death.  That’s not even a Joe Biden quality gaffe.

But while we were all watching the Palin bus tour for some positive indication, something happened I never saw coming.  Texas governor and Chuck Norris besty Rick Perry threw his Stetson in the ring and whipped the media into such a frenzy that they put him in the ‘top tier’ of primary contenders – along with Bachmann (which, in spite of the Iowa straw poll, I still don’t understand) and Mitt Romney.  Lawdy-lawd!  Looks like we finally got ourselves a real ol’ fashioned show down.  Or as they would call it at Texas A&M, Perry’s alma mater, the wobbly H.

Perry will no doubt come out waving the Grand Old Party banner of fiscal responsibility.  His Lieutenant Gov., David Dewhurst, once said, “People could stake me and Governor Perry on the ground and torture us, and we still would not raise taxes.”  Clever.  But Perry, who is a champion of states’ rights, was only able to balance the 2010 Texas state budget by accepting over $16 billion in stimulus funds, which effectively covered 97% of the deficit.

But that’s standard, boring political stuff.  I’m interested in the more scandalous stuff, the stuff that would show up in George magazine if it were still in print.  Namely, how the fuck does a known secessionist run for president?  But like Palin’s connection with the Alaska secessionist party, this seems to be flying under the radar at the moment.

And then there are all the rumors about Perry’s sexual habits and orientation.  Hell, just type ‘rick perry’ into the google search bar and the top suggestion is ‘rick perry gay’.  I’m not saying Rick Perry is gay, I’m just saying he’s not definitely not gay (wink, that one’s for you, Bachmann).  It only took a few days for a Ron Paul supporter to place this beauty of an ad in the Austin Chronicle:

How much do you love that the acronym for the Committee Against Sexual Hypocrisy is CASH?

The Week just published (like, while I was writing this) a collection of Perry’s most controversial moments.  I’d totally forgot about the pray for rain thing!  And to think it only took a little bit of shock therapy and some profuse body sweat to push Thomas Eagleton off the McGovern ticket.  The bottom line: Perry’s gonna have to do some gymnastic campaigning to overcome a lot of this weirdness, and we all know why we watch the gymnastics – it’s for that golden moment of bone and soul crushing defeat when they land headfirst on the mat.  Goddamn, I love me some political bloodsport.


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Politics is a tricky racket. It goes without saying – well, these days maybe we need a reminder – that a degree of intelligence is required to get into the game. Not too much though. It’s like those tests they administer for Who Wants To Be a Millionaire – you must be this dumb to play. But still, we’ve come to expect a modicum of capability, and most important is the skill of oration. As we all know, the brain can be empty as long as the mouth is full (the same applies to actors and models, if you know what I mean).

Then someone comes along and capsizes the clipper ship of our cosmogonies. Someone who, based on what we’ve come to expect, must be deliberately acting in such a way as to decimate the game and probably the English language as well, to totally rearrange our political suppositions, and, well, let’s be honest, establish a new lowest common denominator.

I’m talking, of course, about that bastion of the new political horizon, that harbinger of the killing stroke to ratio sination, Republican candidate for the great state of Tennessee – Basil Marceaux:

I wonder if, when the Mayans predicted a radical change to the world in 2012 they were talking about a Palin/Marceaux presidential bid?

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The days of the American working man are over.  You don’t have to be William Sanford to know that.  Thanks to economic specialization and its necessary counterpart, globalization, the phrase “Buy American!” is no longer relevant.  Of course.  What’s to buy?  That is to say, what does U.S. have to offer by way of exports?  It’s clear that our rock music is terrible.   No eastern European, still nursing a sore anus from the rampages of Communism, is going to want to listen to We Were Promised Jetpacks or Echo and the Bunnymen or whatever lo-fi Pitchfork precum is trying to pass off as innovative.  And despite how “ahead of schedule” GM is, the market for Buick LeSabres is weak at best.  Russell Athletic?  Nope.  New Balance?  Nope.  Backstreet Boys?  Nope.  Guns?  Well, yes, but you can’t even travel with them.  The list goes on, but what is clear is that the days of lunch pail toting, blue collar, punch-in punch-out, Budweiser drinking, pigskin tossing average Joe are long gone.  And it’s been this way for a while.

The hilarity prevails as Uncle Sam continues to meddle with private business, under the guise of “we’re protecting the working man.”  This is about as believable as telling your date that you’re “allergic” to latex condoms.  Let’s break this down.  We’ve already established that the working man is dead.  His death was a necessary byproduct of economic expansion.  Some countries are simply better a producing certain goods and in order for a global economy to exist, some countries have to give up certain things to produce others.  We can’t all be winners.  This isn’t the Special Olympics.  We can’t all produce the same exact good.  This isn’t kindergarten.  “Oh, what a lovely Popsicle stick dinosaur Timmy.  Oh, and you made one too Chris.  Oh and so did Hunter!  Wow, you guys should start a dino zoo!”  The problem is and has been that: everyone wants coffee imported from Colombia and fucking super bananas and Japanese comic books and African masks and scotch, but nobody wants to be affected by it.  Because of this, some countries must specialize.  It just so happens that what the U.S. used to produce: cars and slavery, are no longer applicable in today’s global economy.  Thus, the death of the American working man.  Get over it.  You want to eat avocados and drink white tea, but live in the midwest?  Well my friend, there is price for that.  So don’t be fooled when Uncle Sam says he is fighting for the working man, because he’s not.

Assuming there even was a working man to protect, I doubt he would have his hand in the securities business.  Unless ‘Ol Randal Shirtstain was running an investment bank out of his cellar, I am quite certain that he was not affected by Goldman Sachs.  Speaking of which.  Why does everyone hate GS?  Honestly? Because they’re clever?  Because they understand markets?  Because other banks were stupid enough to get served a shit sandwhich then eat it?  Fuck, I feel bad for those guys.  It must be tough to be a CEO of major corporation and say, “Damn, all of these mortgages defaulted?  Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, I didn’t see that one coming.”

It is therefore no surprise that many former GS employees go and work for the government.  Nor is it a surprise that Obama took close to a million dollars in contributions from them.  Obviously.  They’re intelligent.  And quite good a poker from what I can tell.  To be able to sit there stone faced while getting scolded by a bunch of bleeding hearts on national television and not so much as crack a smile.  Fabolous Fab can come over any time he wants.

So Uncle Sam, stop jocking me.  Don’t pretend you’re crusading for the American worker because there is no such thing.  And stop holding these public roasts on national TV, dropping expletives and catchy soundbites.  Don’t fucking insult me.  It’s clear that this dog and pony show is a distraction from what’s really going on….

AREA 51 EXISTS!!!!!!!!!!


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Remember the good ole’ days in Texas?  When a man had a dispute with another man, or a woman, or a dog, or a bottle of Jack Daniels, he would pull out his Colt revolver and blast the offending party to high hell in the middle of the saloon.

Well, the state Senate, apparently feeling nostalgic, wants a revival of these sacred traditions, except let’s just go ahead and replace saloons with college campuses.

The Senate today tentatively passed a controversial bill to allow college students who are at least 21 years old and licensed to carry concealed handguns to carry those weapons into campus buildings.

Uh huh, that shit is real, and just one more reason we should go ahead and let those archaic savages secede and shoot themselves up under the omnipotent governance of overload Chuck Norris.

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If you can figure this out, you win today’s prize (TBD).


(hint: I would have shopped in Bob Graham, Richard Shelby, and Porter Goss, but who has the time?)

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According to one “news source,” our pinko-commie, America-hating, lying, back-stabbing, megalomaniac president spent his first 100 days destroying the moral fiber of this country, furtively privatizing all its industries for personal gain, channeling Stalin, exploiting white guilt, deliberately bankrupting us, and having sex with Hugo Chavez.

And you thought he was just trying to get you your job and your health care benefits back. Silly liberal elite media watching sheep!

See for yourself (if it’s in the news it must be true):

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The UK ended operations in Iraq today, prompting Iraqi’s to ask, “Where did all the smart Americans with funny accents go?”

Now who’s going to make 5 o’clock tea?  You can’t trust the Slovaks to do it properly.  What, they left too!

I bet when they left the base the Americans couldn’t help throwing a parting shot at them: “Hey, remember when you had the most powerful military in the world and you got your asses blasted off by a bunch of farmers with home-made musket balls?”

To which the Brits probably replied: “Hey, remember when you were the most powerful military in the world and you got your asses blasted off for 6 years by a bunch of sheep herders with home-made explosives.  At least we had the good sense to pack up and go home!  Oh, and by the way, tell your bloody politicians to stop taking credit for saving our asses in WWII.  Everybody knows it was the Russians who beat the Germans.  All you lot did was get syphilis and make Italians water their coffee down.  Have fun getting your ass blasted off.”

Or maybe the parting went a little more like this:

“I heard a light sigh and then my heart stood still, stopped dead short by an exulting and terrible cry, by the cry of inconceivable triumph and of unspeakable pain. ‘I knew it — I was sure!’ . . . She knew. She was sure. I heard her weeping; she had hidden her face in her hands. It seemed to me that the house would collapse before I could escape, that the heavens would fall upon my head. But nothing happened. The heavens do not fall for such a trifle. Would they have fallen, I wonder, if I had rendered Kurtz that justice which was his due? Hadn’t he said he wanted only justice? But I couldn’t. I could not tell her. It would have been too dark — too dark altogether. . . .”

Marlow ceased, and sat apart, indistinct and silent, in the pose of a meditating Buddha. Nobody moved for a time. “We have lost the first of the ebb,” said the Director suddenly. I raised my head. The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed sombre under an overcast sky — seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.

I wonder…

I’m assuming the U.S. departure will be a little more, uh, cinematic.

Oh well, for now I guess it’s just us and Fiji.

(Be in awe, I literally spent 5 minutes on this… 5 minutes!  I know, you saw it and had an Orson Welles moment.)

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