Vatican goes green, and why text messages are evil

Considering the News…

In its latest attempt to embrace the digital age the Vatican is calling all Catholics and deploring believers to put down those sin-riddled cellphones during these glorious days of self-inflicted self-deprivation known as Lent. And it’s about bloody time.

Alas, how so dreadfully often furious typers of text messages neglect to take an occasional moment to bask in the glory of the Lord,  appreciating the sacrifices Christ made many centuries ago to guarantee our ability to text in peace.

So many times Mass goers have looked in uncontrolled horror as an iPhone clings to one believer’s hand while the body of Christ is placed in the other.

Why must these menacing iPod headphones dangle from ears when almighty and all-knowing priests speak the word of the Lord?

How can we not go one day a week without obsessing over the stats and numbers on our computers at work?

Must we drive those 17 unholy miles to work every day of Lent, or can a bike suffice for the sake of sacrifice?

Indeed, the Vatican – the guiding light it is, the beacon of hope we gratefully accept it to be – has composed a righteous list of ways to shun technology for these 40 days of Lent.

The Pope has blessed this manifesto of ways for circumventing the inherent dangers and evils of computers, iPhones, and Facebook.

All we can do is hope. Pray. Accept this list as a means for coming closer to God. For emulating the sacrifices Jesus so unselfishly made many years ago.

For more tips on how to become a better Catholic, please visit the Vatican website. Or, please befriend Pope Benedict on his Facebook and MySpace pages. Or, for those wanting some viral proverbs, feel free to tune into the Vatican YouTube Channel that is now available.

See you all after Easter!

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Iran is ticked at Hollywood – Plus, why movie stars make wonderful diplomats

Considering the News…

It’s rather delightful to learn Iran finally has its priorities in a peaceful place, and it can only be a matter of time before relations with the West are repaired for the collective good of all. Indeed, good times await us yet.

The occasionally troublesome nation took earnest strides this past weekend by warmly hosting a team of Hollywood directors, producers and actors who ventured to the surging American vacation destination for a film-making seminar.

Here they were kindly greeted by President Ahmadinejad’s personal film and cinema adviser – that such a cabinet position even exists has yet to spawn any headlines, although surely this will change in time – who politely and respectfully requested some form of apology for Hollywood’s brazen role in the production of “300″ and “The Wrestler”, two movies Iran contends to be blatantly anti-Persian and with very good reason.

Thank God Warren Beatty’s wonderful wife Annette Bening was present to defuse the awkward situation.

The stunning and graceful starlet, best known for her moving performances in the Hollywood blockbuster “Mars Attacks” and one particular 1987 episode of “Miami Vice”, did not reportedly say or doing anything prolific, however, neither are there any reports of her abduction or imprisonment – which, of course, is a positive thing. So as I stated before, thank God she was there.

The trip is part of a grand strategy to breed peace between Iran and America through the universal love and appreciation for movies. As all forms of Iranian mass media are closely overlooked by Ahmadinejad’s regime, the eventual benevolence between the two nations seems incredibly likely, if not inexorable.

Ahmadinejad did not issue an immediate response to the joyous gathering, but he is believed to be a wholehearted fan of “Bugsy”, which for obvious reasons bodes well for Bening’s safe return to America. Perhaps not.

Either way, it’s encouraging to know Iran didn’t make an ugly mess of this otherwise harmless trip. Lord knows Hollywood stars can be rather difficult at times.

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Michael Jackson’s nose is gone – No one surprised

Considering the News…

Michael Jackson is a man of confidence. A selfless guy. One who captivates a room of any size, no matter how many stars grace the floor. He teaches us that vanity is by no means a virtue, and for that we are all better people.

Thus, we praise not only his music catalog but look to him for guidance in navigating this cruelest of worlds. That a man of unmatched talent and unrivaled stardom should turn to plastic surgery seemingly every other week can only mean one thing – he is showing us the path to spiritual liberation.

The entire Jackson family is comprised of upstanding citizens and role models, strong-willed folks who put humanity and goodness before selfish wants and desires.

But only Michael could make such a prolific sacrifice – his cherished nose. Sad reports are surfacing and the outlook is grim. It appears Michael’s frequent trips under the knife have finally got the best of him, and a ruthless skin disease threatens the lovely little nose we have come to accept as a vision of perfection.

Because of Michael I will seek a more perfect face. Because of him I will have no rhinoplasty no matter how large and ominous my nose might often seem. Because of him I have seen the light, and there is a fine nose beneath it.

It is the nose given to me at birth. The nose god meant for me to have. And for that I shall never face the dire day when I have no nose at all.

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The Sanctity of Marriage – Plus, why gay marriage and polygamy have a chance

Considering the News…

There’s a lovely story out of Indiana receiving tremendous news coverage, of a 68-year-old woman who’s had the honorable privilege of marrying 23 times, with the marriages lasting as long as seven years and as little as 36 hours.

Born Linda Lou Taylor, this bride of brides is a living ode to the beauty of marriage, embracing all its ups and downs, in sickness and in health, a life’s work devoted to advancing the significance of this most sacred institution.

In these dark moral times of homosexuals fighting for marriage rights and polygamists pressing for the right to wed multiple partners, Linda Lou Taylor’s courageous story underscores the vital importance of preserving marriage as a union between only man and woman.

Why, would homosexuals be capable of marrying 23 different times? Not a chance. They don’t have the stomach for it.

And what about polygamists – could any of them achieve 23 partners at one time? Of course not, what an absolutely silly thought.

We must all applaud Linda Lou Taylor’s strong will and unrelenting dedication to this earnest and really, really serious cause. Thanks to her our children and our children’s children will one day be able to marry and divorce and marry and divorce and marry and divorce and marry again as many times as they deem necessary – supposing, of course, they are heterosexual God-fearing Christians who love and respect their partners, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, at least one in 23 tries.

Here’s to you Linda Lou Taylor – you’re one lousy tramp! But at least you’re not gay or Mormon. Now THAT would be a moral travesty.

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British, French nuclear subs collide – Plus, why Iran and North Korea might as well have a few nukes

Considering the News…

France and Britain are rather crimson and clover in the face today, as nuclear-armed submarines from the two national powers played a viscous game of underwater chicken, with neither side ever deciding to bail out.

Too much pride on the line, I suppose. And that’s a good thing, even if a couple dozen warheads colliding is not.

Some physical harm was endured, yes – mostly non-lethal bumps, bruises, and scratches – yet the major damage comes in the volatile form of concerned members of the press and members of a growing citizens group known simply by the succinct moniker Not too crazy about getting accidentally blown up because trained officers cannot clearly distinguish a nuclear-armed submarine from a dead whale.

(Indeed, any given day will find me willing to take a chance with 100 warheads before crossing the aforementioned citizens group. No hesitation whatsoever.)

It is true that history has bared witness to myriad mishaps by the French and British armed forces, however, this most clumsy incident illustrates just how integrally connected we all are as citizens of the same world, and that these blunders risk ravaging more than mere national pride.

While the self-proclaimed good guys forecast imminent global doom should Iran or North Korea ever obtain nuclear weapons, perhaps the more pressing concern is our allies throwing 50 warheads in the trunk and driving around with a head full of whiskey, wine and downers.

And yet who can condemn the British or the French? This obviously is no fault of theirs.

That two nuclear-armed submarines managed to collide in the Atlantic Ocean, as ridiculous as it all is considering the infinite space and avenues, is a bloody amazing feat for which only god can take credit.

The math alone requires us to forgive the two mortal nations without questions, punishment, or ridicule, as this was not of their doing. It would be like two 8-foot-tall redheads with 160 IQs and only 8 toes running into each other on a bike trail in Wichita, Kansas. Just doesn’t happen without good reason.

What won’t be forgiven is our grave suspicions of the ocean, for the world survived another day, but at what cost. I for one will never step foot in the Atlantic again, lest I wish for my right foot to fall off and grow tentacles and a set of teeth in its place. No, that doesn’t sound too swell at all.


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The Colonel’s fried chicken secret is safe – Plus, why nobody cares

Considering the News…

Fried chicken enthusiasts can rest easy today, thanks to comforting reports the beloved KFC recipe has at last been safely transported and secured in a secret vault somewhere in the enchanted hills of Kentucky.

Learning the exact contents of this hand-written document – penned by the mystical Colonel himself – has sent fried chicken impersonators through the depths of hell, as countless combinations have failed in the honorable quest of authentically replicating the mythical 11-herb mixture.

Few things have incited greater culinary madness through the ages, with some comparing the importance of the scintillating chicken recipe to that of Jesus’ bread, Emeril’s Caribbean-style chicken, and Bo Jackson’s signature BO Burger.

Naturally, every precaution was taken in transporting the historical document – with many security guards and a handcuff briefcase involved in the covert mission – before it was finally laid to rest in a high-tech vault that will be guarded around the clock by living personnel. And thank God for that.

At any given time, but only two living KFC executives harness the dear privilege of knowing the full recipe, which no doubt qualifies them both for the ‘Luckiest Damn Person Alive Competition’ held annually in Waukee, Iowa.

Merely disclosing a single element of the recipe means instant death by way of the guillotine, a long-standing Kentucky law that has surely survived many Supreme Court challenges, as it is no secret Rehnquist loved nothing more than a late-night bucket of crispy and succulent fried chicken.

Yes, this 68-year-old legend of a recipe is poised to remain a well-kept treasure for at least another 10 years, when slumping sales inspire KFC executives to move the document yet again, to any even bigger vault, with even more human security guards – reminding Americans the Colonel’s chicken is still accessible at your local KFC chain store.Today. And right now.

I myself haven’t eaten the filth in years. Maintaing a good cholesterol level just doesn’t allow for it, I’m afraid. Plus, the grocery store fried chicken tastes just as good, if not much better.

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Obama to limit executive bonuses – Plus, why high-class prostitution will suffer

Considering the News…

As the financial crisis paralyzes every industry not specializing in online pornography, ill-timed is President Obama’s audacious plan to limit executive bonuses for companies receiving “exceptional assistance” under the bailout program.

A closer glimpse into this seedy plan only further illustrates how downright silly his shameless middle-class pandering has become.

No secret is it the extravagant taste of these very executives is solely responsible for keeping the luxury industries afloat – so what could possibly compel Obama to risk undermining this sector of the market at such a time?

Why, who will buy the $100 lobster dinners should this plan come to fruition? Or the private jets! How can that industry realistically survive if General Motors has merely one jet instead of five?

Caviar, yachts, private golf clubs, exotic beauty products, Oliver Goldsmith sunglasses, Stefano Bemer shoes – I ask you, Mr. President, where will the customers come from if under-performing executives of collapsing corporations fail to receive outrageous and undeserved compensation?

And this is to say nothing of the high-class prostitution business! Where will the next great generation of lawyers and doctors come from if aspiring professionals cannot fund graduate school because the underground service industry went belly up?

Obama and the Dream Team Circus claim to boast a myriad of fantastic tricks to bewilder the eye and wow the crowd – but this particular performance, I am afraid to say, is incredibly underwhelming, unrewarding, and greatly lacking both theme and direction.

Back to the dressing room, Good sir, the audience is getting rather anxious.

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Michael Phelps enjoys a nice toke – Plus, why Olympic champions who get photographed smoking pot make good role models

Considering the News…

Supernatural athletic ability may launch one to the pinnacle of the sports world, however, it evidently can help one mature with no more haste than the virgin junior-varsity bench warmers of the world.

That a 23-year-old male engaged in a fuzzy little bong session at a frat party will alarm few. In fact, a 23-year-old male enjoying an occasional toke seems right in line with American tradition, post 1955.

Law students, nurses, veterinarians, trash collectors, political aides – choice of profession has no chemical effect on the innate connection between 20-somethings and the ganja. The synergy between the two is quite remarkable.

And yet once 14 or 15 Olympic gold medals enter the fog, stunned faces steal the majority like somebody just crapped on the president’s shoe. Bemused people all wondering how God’s holy world could ever allow for a sports icon to become the front runner for High Times Man of the Year.

Michael Phelps is without question a legend in the athletic sense, but his frequently impaired and hypocritical judgment reminds us he is no more a role model than a blazed, barely conscious, wannabe Rastafarian in Central Park.

His destiny has become quite predictable: Win a Volkswagen van full of gold medals and make an ass of himself for an encore.

Thus, American media is premature in proclaiming him a role model, for what parent wants his life for their children?

Who says, ‘I want my son to win 6 gold medals, follow it up with a DUI, mend his image by joining a World Anti-Doping Agency program, win another 8 gold medals, get a million dollars from Speedo, have everyone calling, then give my wife a bloody heart attack by getting photographed pulling bong tubes and feeling up a stripper – all in a few-year span.”

No one. That’s too damn much for even the sturdiest minds.

Thus, Michael Phelps may be a role model after all, and as important a role model as there ever was. I suspect now I will one day have the ‘Michael Phelps’ talk with my children, emphasizing that while gold medals and endorsements can do a great deal for one’s public image and self esteem, voyeuristic photographers will stop at nothing to leave their wonder world in a ruins of g-strings and bong water.

“So what will it be, son?” I shall ask. “Do you wish for a private life where you are free to smoke marijuana and grope strippers in your spare time, or do you want to be an Olympic champion getting paid millions to pose in a Speedo, never able to freely smoke some marijuana, or perhaps grope a stripper or two, without the whole world going ape shit?”

His initial response will reflect what kind of person he intends to be. My only wish is he passes on the Speedo.

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Octuplets move to mystery mansion – Plus, why everyone with six kids should have another eight

Considering the News…

Scintillating details of the California octuplets remain shrouded in mystery, now four days removed from the babies’ removal from the mother’s womb.

Traditionally patient and polite news media is growing uncharacteristically anxious. Many pressing questions remain unanswered. What are their names? Who are the eight fathers? Are they Clippers or Lakers fans?

Yet the family is proceeding with painstaking secrecy and caution, striving to protect the anonymity of these eight little miracles, and paying no mind to the joyful reporters calmly seeking an interview.

The latest rumor seasoning this savory story is word the parents already have six little miracles – meaning their humble home has now contributed 14 healthy and happy and necessary additions to the otherwise scarcely populated state of California.

Unfortunately, heartless skeptics now wrongly question the family’s sincerity, speculating the true incentive for breeding eight little miracles simultaneously is an unbridled desire for fame and undeserved gifts. But that’s not the honest Christian thing to do, now is it.

Representing this batch of miracles is the grandfather ( identifying himself as Ed), who has offered few guarantees or promises thus far, aside from leaking word of a huge mystery mansion existing somewhere in the remote hills of the countryside, well beyond the mental and physical limits of lazy media members.

There, he says, his two dozen or so grandchildren will live in unchallenged secrecy, never bothering with the unworthy outside world. That 16 miracles can move anywhere in this country without anyone noticing is a relatively common feat destined for absolute, unhindered success. They will probably never be found, seen, or heard from again.

They certainly will never stoop to repeating the same trite interview again and again for any TV station agreeing to donate to the college fund, a college fund that will undoubtedly go toward the octuplets’ education alone, and not to any extravagant trips or boats or new cars or an even bigger mystery mansion in the even more remote hills of the countryside.

I wish the family only the absolute best. A great service they have done for the world. Think of how much less crime there would be if every family with six children made the admirable decision to take fertility drugs (true story) and have another eight.

We can only wonder how many less cars would be on the road. How much food everyone would have. How much cheaper college tuition would be. How many less people would be on welfare. How many more people would be employed. How many more people would be able to visit Wal-Mart and buy Chinese toys and appliances.

Indeed, we can only wonder.

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The flabby saga of Jessica Simpson – Plus Barack Obama proves in one week that he is not God

Considering the News…

Thirsting for a major news story to fill the ominous void left by the passing of President Barack Obama’s inauguration, the mainstream media naturally turned to Jessica Simpson’s luscious jelly rolls.

I cannot honestly claim to be surprised, nor can I fathom any other way this could have unfolded. The sequence of events makes rather perfect sense.

A country predominately comprised of fat, hypocritical, superficial louts falls in love with a transcendent public figure, unwittingly believes manifest change will sweep through the land by the efforts of one, only to then direct all eyes and attention to a flabby, washed-up music icon 7 days later.

This must be poetic justice for the conservative fellows who trumpeted the farce of Obama’s celebrity from the beginning. While President #44 may indeed salvage the economy, resurrect our foreign endeavors, and breed unparalleled mental peace, he certainly cannot wrench our attention away from flabby, washed-up music icons. An impossible feat, if ever one was so.

Ms. Simpson’s pooch has now spawned one of the most contentious public discourses since the November election, as a myriad of pundits and talk show hosts (many of the female variety) don capes and attempt to save Simpson’s dignity. Another impossible feat.

What they fail to understand is that Jessica Simpson’s jiggly mid-section is deserving of ridicule, for she claimed the admiration of many only by flaunting a once impeccable figure. Once that falters, so does America’s appreciation for her existence. If sheer singing ability and intelligence defined her, I would not have invested 20 minutes of my time in writing these playful words. She would be just another fat, hypocritical, superficial lout clogging up the pores of America.

But perhaps there is hope for Simpson to reinvent her image, maybe as a physical metaphor for the American people, the people who once soared to wondrous heights by utilizing god’s gifts, only to stuff the spoils down the chute with no sense of consequence.

This unflattering attention will likely inspire Simpson to hit the treadmill, working earnestly to reclaim her fruitful form. The true wonder is whether America can do the same.

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Rod Blagojevich: Public Menace, National Hero, or Both? Plus a brief list of things that under no circumstances can be sold on the otherwise open market

Considering the News…

Embattled Illinois Governor and renowned public ass Rod Blagojevich fancies himself to be somewhat of a hero.

Actually, that statement does him no justice whatsoever. Many apologies to his family for selling the man so short.

He fancies himself to be one of the most prolific and undeniably great heroes in American history – make that world history while we’re at it – a stalwart supporter of due process, civil liberties, and everything that is right and just in the universe.

This righteous man, one of the humblest you could hope to meet,  freely compares himself to Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King Jr. and Ghandi. Yes, I know. That Ghandi.

And rightly so.  These fine gentlemen were imprisoned for their persistence and pursuit of spreading revolutionary ideals. Blago is being impeached for corruption.

These profound men inspired millions, spawned mass movements and permanently transformed antiquated public opinions. Blago sacrificed his dignity so late night talk show hosts might never again suffer a shortage of hair jokes.

These selfless men endured the brutal wrath of millions, faced endless death threats, and bared the burden of so many, all in hopes of leaving behind a more tolerant world. Blago skipped the opening of his Senate impeachment hearings to go on “The View” and condemn unfair trials to Barbara Walters.

Because Rod Blagojevich is a veritable man of the people. Always has been, really.

“I’m talking to Americans to let them know what’s happening in the land of Lincoln,” he said so valiantly. “If they can do it to a governor, they can do it to you.”

Transcendent words from a brilliant man. If they can do it to a governor, they can do it to you. Any of you!

That most Americans never have the opportunity to appoint a U.S. Senator doesn’t undermine his point, it reinforces it.

That most Americans have never been caught on federal wiretaps attempting to sell such an appointment to the highest bidder doesn’t compromise his defense, it only endears him to the state senators charged by the citizens of Illinois to deliver a fair verdict.

There is much to learn from the Rod Blagojevich saga. Thoughts on traditional common sense and ethics have been forever altered.  For that we must thank the man. Even if he is no hero, he is still the delusional ass with a silly haircut who reminded Americans that a free market doesn’t necessarily mean everything is for sale. Just one more thing to teach my kids one day.

Things that under no circumstances can be sold on the otherwise open market (In order of my learning them):

1. Anything belonging to my sister, with extra emphasis on her internal organs.

2. Any automobile not immediately belonging to me, with extra emphasis on automobiles rightfully owned by my parents.

3. Any small child, with extra emphasis on children entrusted to you by parents paying for services from the daycare you may or may not be employed at.

4. Any sexual favors, with extra emphasis on favors you are not readily willing to perform but are eagerly awaiting to be performed by women you may or may not have met on random street corners.

5. Any federal appointments, with extra emphasis on any federal appointment discussed in a room where federal wiretaps may or may not be present.

As is always the case, this list is amendable at any time. Thanks again for your submission, Rod.

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Bush vacates the White House, a terribly sad sun sets

Considering the News…

President Bush is back in Crawford, Texas, the sun having set at last on his memorable and abundantly eventful presidency. It’s back to civilian life, back to making trivial decisions that affect no one of interest.

Done are the presidential press conferences that inspired the collective cheers of so many Americans, all lauding his fine leadership while saying, “Just look at the truth spray from the glorious fountain that is his blessed mouth.”

Gone are the nightly compliments paid by popular late night talk show hosts, who so often honored President Bush with flattering Top Ten lists illustrating his competence and valor, or featured unforgettable clips from his valiant speeches, inevitably comparing him with the prolific orators who preceded him to the Oval Office.

Evaporated is the comforting notion of unchallenged national security, impregnable to the venomous terrorists hellbent on sowing America’s terrible doom, forever ready to sweep up any suspicious rogue who attempted to board the wrong plane or make the wrong cell phone call.

Lost is the simple honesty and crystal transparency of the Executive Branch, where Bush devoted the entirety of his eight years to illuminating to us common Americans the duties and privileges of this uncommon office, incidentally proving formidable leaders are never compromised by arrogance, stubbornness, or hubris.

Ended are the jovial bonds forged in the Bush administration, a successful experimentation in which friends and close colleagues worked intimately together to achieve the monumental, dismissing the antiquated sentiment that only a hodgepodge of so-called experts can propell the country to unbridled prosperity.

The nation, and thus the world, is much different today. A queer and unsettling feeling looms. Can our country survive without George W. Bush, the man who so cautiously overlooked our armed forces and national pocketbook with prudence and due diligence, the Commander-in-Chief who sacrificed his own passion, familial grudges, and personal agenda for the betterment of his treasured country?

No one can be certain. The future looks grim, with only a hint of sunshine gleaming off the coast of Hawaii. No expert myself, I have no authority to say.

But as a proud and concerned citizen of the greatest nation in history, I’m sure as shit ready to find out. God damn.

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President Bush delivers inspiring farewell speech – Few listen and some laugh uproariously

Considering the News…

President George W. Bush delivered a heart-warming, belly-tingling, buns-tickling farewell to the nation yesterday, and I’m both alarmed and appalled that this magnanimous leader – general of all things mighty, admiral of all that is right – was given second ticket to an airplane landing in the Hudson River of all places.

Never mind that America has gone terror free since that infamous September day back in 2001. No, we wouldn’t want to pay Sir Bush any gratitude for that startling accomplishment. And that’s to mention nothing of the sweeping social progress in Afghanistan and Iraq, where swimming pools and McDonald’s restaurants are being built daily. I know, right, we’re bringing recreation and exquisite dining to the Middle East and still lacking is the litany of cards thanking Bush for his heroic labors.

And did I mention this airplane incident didn’t even amount to any fatalities? What happened to the old “Blood leads” creed that has been an indisputable ratings booster since the inception of this thing television? What happened to sticking to your guns, both figuratively and literally? Why, George Bush has over 4,000 gruesome deaths on his watch, and still he can’t even get 13 uninterrupted minutes to bid us farewell.

That American media is in shambles, faltering, sinking, capsizing with a torrent crash, need not be said. And now we know why. In lieu of the traditional blood and guts that endeared a country so obsessively to one medium, the news media chose a deathless plane ride that ended with pictures of people cruising safely across the Hudson River in boats.

Well, if America desires feel-good sunshine stories over the bungled artistry of a master manipulator like George W. Bush, then I say good riddance to the whole blasted thing. Here we have one of the most extraordinary criminal minds of our time hanging up his crowbar and wiretap, and we do no more than sit idly by, sharing trivial God bless Americas because some fortunate citizens managed to ride on a plane and boat in the same hour.

I give up.

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The Osama Bin Laden Guide to Immortality

Considering the News…

Former terrorism mogul and one-time television sensation Osama bin Laden has lugged his crippled bones out of the death box once again, this time calling for jihad hell in Israel until Jerusalem is rightfully or wrongfully (who really knows) returned to the Palestinians.

Bin Laden, the generous soul that he was, also welcomed the President-elect to the world stage with a nugget of invaluable advice, namely that his unthoughtful predecessor is leaving him a pile of shit and he might consider withdrawing American troops if he doesn’t wish to step in it.

Initially, my reaction to this latest installment in The Middle East is Fucked Diaries was “Wow, that inbred clown is still around. Go figure.” Then it was, “Wow, what happened to al-Quaida’s marketing budget? They go from polished militant videos to a barely audible audio recording played over a picture of Osama from 1998? Something’s gone terribly wrong here. Have they not been to Best Buy Dubai lately? Have they not seen the kickass HD camcorders on the market?”

Further analyzing this Wizard of OZ tomfoolery spawned thoughts of my own immortality, and what low-budget production might prolong my own impact beyond these living days. The exact nature and capacity of my impact concerned me little – only how I could prolong the damn thing.

Thus I commenced recording a manifest compilation of random, spontaneous, and often times nonsensical ramblings. No topic escaped my attention. I realized that the recorded word, no matter how outlandish, could ultimately breed everlasting life if the right people managed my affairs after my expiration.

My plan now is to find someone, anyone, to play my tapes (Yes, I’m using tapes) once every six months after my death. Then it will be as if I were alive and well and speaking the fine words of wisdom myself – and in real time, too.

By recording 200 or 300 variations of the same speech – occasionally throwing in a fact I trust will withstand the test of time (Say, the Palestinians and Israelis fighting an everlasting holy war) – and then summoning a responsible and trustworthy colleague to play the tapes while holding up a picture of me (Personal Note: Find old high school baseball photos), then immortality will be mine.

That oafish assclown Osama was a ruthless son of a bitch, but he certainly had it all figured out. What a prodigious mind that rat bastard had to be. Way ahead of his time. And apparently beyond his time to boot.

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Economy Down but Chlamydia Up – Fair Trade Off

Considering the News…

Having grown weary from the exhaustive news coverage of our economy being in shambles and  the fate of everyone essentially being doomed, I was more than pleased to learn chlamydia is surging like a blind horse in heat.

One can read about new record  lows only so many times before he goes madly insane, so this recent report that America’s favorite venereal disease is on the up and up comes at an ideal time. That this economic turmoil has incited a myriad of suicides but hasn’t yet extinguished our desire to have rampant, unprotected, hate sex is just the good news we need right now.

To be quite blunt, I was dangerously close to losing my wits prior to learning of the unparalleled promiscuity and debauchery spreading joy in America. Trudging through an endless stream of depression stories, I likely risked sacrificing my own good heart, clear conscience and generally affable nature before much longer. Something, needless to say, I wasn’t incredibly excited about enduring.

So fortunately my playful dreams will be disrupted by the economic horror stories no longer. Sunshine stories still do come along every now and again. They still do come along.

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The Army to recruit flabby soldiers – The end is near

Considering the News…

The common American (to say nothing of the extraordinary American) has come to expect very little of his fellow countrymen, and doing so has enabled meager standards and expectations to fashion comfortable homes in every sector of society, something for which we are all ultimately worse off.

From regular consumer services to exotic dance clubs, as a nation we have wholeheartedly nurtured mediocrity, earnestly praised the half-ass-ed-ness warts of society. Now even the most modest of expectations are often greeted with some brand of failure, and yet as Americans we have grown perfectly accustomed to these regular shortcomings.

One must no longer even exert an ounce of energy to earn our deepest sympathies, if not our unbridled respect and admiration. Simply existing in a given place and time suffices these days.

Hey, you son of a bitch, at least you tried. Oh, what, you didn’t even try? Oh well, at least you showed up. Oh what, you didn’t even show up? Well, frankly, I say screw it then. I’m sure you’ll get ‘em next time.

But they likely won’t get ‘em next time. Or even the next time after that. We know this fact quite well and choose to forgive it rather than redeem it. Yes, it is likely beyond redemption at this point.

Seemingly only televisions, handguns, and breast augmentations consistently achieve new heights of quality; meanwhile just about every other industry fails miserably in its own respective way, which, I suppose, is somewhat of a victory in itself.

Nonetheless, few seem the least bit concerned by this troubling phenomenon, while others refuse to even acknowledge its destructive implications.

The endemic has gotten so severe that even the military appears prepared to accept inferiority. Struggling to maintain adequate troop levels, whatever those may be, The Army has elected to expand physical entry requirements – meaning the chubby dreamers turned away in previous years are now entitled to a handsome signing bonus should they choose to be all they can be.

The next great American war – assuming one looms – will be won not with our country’s best, but behind a hodgepodge of flabby, acne-riddled runts incapable of lettering in any high school sport other than perhaps ping pong.

Perhaps future American victories cannot safely be assumed. The brazen search for war is unwise with a well-trained and fine-tuned army, but it should be avoided like Malaysian syphilis by those feeble nations boasting a flimsy force comprised of the fatigued and the breathless. No, the fatigued and the breathless have won few wars through the course of history.

Should The Army begin lowering its standards today, I shiver in pondering how far it will stoop by the year 2020 or 2030. Surely no “fit” teenagers will still grace the country’s population by then, but the thirst for war will still necessitate the need to recruit someone. Anyone.

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Tim Tebow, future President of the United States?

Considering the News…

I’m now convinced Florida Gators football superstar, American legend, and Christian goodfella, Tim Tebow, will be President a day not too far from today. No doubts. No reservations about that one.

The guy exudes confidence. Spouts leadership. Is to charisma what Amy Winehouse is to crackheads – the definition.

Now some will say, hey, what about him being born in the Philippines? No way he can be President. Just not constitutional. Can’t happen.

Well, such minutiae, no matter how damning, is never impugn to the smearing and twisting of a genuine spin doctor – at least not one worth his or her weight in venom and wax. Was Barack Obama born within domestic borders? Kenya? Malaysia? Hawaii? Ah, who cares, the guy weaves rhetorical gold at the podium. The same will hold true for Florida’s chosen son, the natural hybrid of Abe Lincoln and Johnny Unitas.

Then some will say, hey, the guy’s like 21 years old. That’s way too young to be President.

Yes, such restrictions can hinder progress at times. But what about the Chinese Olympic Gymnastics team? Talent can make 12 the new 16 with few hardships when the right people rework the script. Thus I’m confident Tebow can smile and fist-pump his way to 40 in no time. Little effort required, to say the least.

Then some might say, hey, can he even win any southern state other than Florida after pummeling their football teams every year for seemingly an entire decade?

Football is next to religion down south, and Tebow’s dominance makes him somewhat of a demagogue in the region. Touchdowns are the new doctrine, you see. He’ll sweep every state by at least 95-5, with the other 5 percent going to Mike Huckabee and Jeb Bush.

So there you have it, Tim Tebow is destined to become President. No force, formidable as it may be, is going to impede his mystical ascension to the pinnacle of national prominence. Not even  a few minor rules and technicalities can stop him. Maybe not even Jesus.

Ok, probably Jesus. But nothing else.

Either way, I can’t imagine voting for him. Can’t stand the Gators.

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Applying for a dream job – FBI here I come

FBI:

It recently came to my attention the Federal Bureau of Investigation is aggressively seeking talented new agents, and I must say this joyous news couldn’t have come at a better time. Believe it or not, I have myself been aggressively seeking the right agency for my services, yet the economic uncertainty of today has made the task rather cumbersome and tiring (The search has forced several naps into my daily schedule).

As the FBI is the finest institution in the land, comprised of the most capable agents the earth has ever known (much more so than those bastards at the CIA – wink, wink!), I can fathom no better place to invest my prodigious abilities.  Our union truly will prove divine, as my qualifications easily exceed even your most stringent requisites.

Now I see in the job posting that fluency in a foreign language is desired, which incidentally benefits me a great deal since I recently mastered the lyrics to Feliz Navidad this past holiday seasonno small task, I can assure you that. I am also quite familiar with the French language, having twice taken an introductory course on the subject in college. Should any covert operations require an agent to order a baguette or express an affinity for soccer (football over there), then look no further than my sterling record.

The posting also indicated a need for advanced computer skills. Well, not only am I a wizard with Microsoft Word, but I can balance a checkbook and research porn super secret stuff per the CPU as well. Without sounding arrogant, I feel it necessary to note my No. 87 ranking in World of Warcraft, where I honed my combat skills with a variety of weapons and gadgets. Needless to say, the enemy shall fear my wrath.

And lastly, the posting was vehement in stating that only candidates with previous intelligence experience will be considered for the plethora of openings. Ho, ho, ho! Not only am I somewhat of an expert in everything James Bond, but I have also studied thoroughly the artistry of Axel Foley and Maxwell Smart – two of the nation’s finest intelligence agents.

Additional achievements and qualifications can be found in the attached resume. Should you feel like I feel (that was a bit Peter Frampton-esque, eh?) that I would fit seamlessly into your agency’s hierarchy, please contact me via the provided phone number or email address. Oh, and I also respond to the Bat signal.

Look forward to hearing from you,

God Speed!

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Six-Day Weeks and Failed 2009 Resolutions

Considering the state of things…

Unlike tens of millions of my fellow Americans who chose yet again to celebrate this new year by embarking on ridiculous quests for self-improvement -  like losing weight or quitting smoking or quitting drinking or limiting sexual conquests or quitting sex altogether or renouncing organized religion or endorsing the metric system or accomplishing any of a number of other preposterous goals – I elected to merely scrub clean the stubborn mind state that has devastated and stunted my growth and maturity since a very early age.

With but one benevolent twist of perception I truly felt great strides could be taken – no longer could I justify any reasons for delaying this necessary transformation. Change seemed certainly imminent, as I deemed the new year as a convenient time to finally confront my distaste for my least favorite day of the week.

You see, it has been documented rather exhaustively that my main, and perhaps lone, archrival in this cruel world is that annoying first day of the week, known by most in the English-speaking world as Monday. Given there are some Mondays I have grown infinitely fond of, such as Labor Day and Memorial Day and my birthday every 8 or 9 years, yet I would be errant in claiming to enjoy the day as a whole any more than I do a pint of bubbling sewer water.

I cannot rightly claim, however, that Monday has it out solely for me. I understand its indiscriminate nature. Monday never saves any of my counterparts in the workforce from the mental anguish of rising and realizing the weekend has become but a juicy memory, ripe with tales of drink, sport and perhaps some unexpected, albeit welcomed, debauchery.

Monday is eagerly awaited by few, and of those few I suspect three quarters suffer from some chilling mental disabilities we should all be so lucky to avoid. The difference, I am now certain, is that while I may not be alone in despising the day, I have been negligent in learning to accept its unholiness with a grain of salt like some of my stronger co-inhabitants of this planet.

Mondays, I feel, are for the assertive, the spirited, the eager-handed willing to wrestle the bull to the ground by its own menacing horns; Mondays are for the alert, the rested, the restless species of man that uses weekends not for celebration, but for preparation for the ensuing week.

Further self-analysis has alerted me to the demoralizing fact I likely belong to none of these esteemed crowds.

So there it is, not but five days into the new year and already have I abandoned my resolution, my futile quest to appreciate Monday – embrace every Monday – for the fresh, new opportunities found there within.

Indeed, Monday would be wise to avoid me at all costs, for I wish nothing except grave harm for its merciless being and all those willingly associated with it.

I say good day, day! Chalk up one more failed attempt at change.

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Blagojevich to Obama: Go to Hell

Considering the News…

Fearing he might not be governor for much longer, overlooking the shimmering fact his powers have all but been diminished, if not already seized, Rod Blagojevich unbuckled the belt holding up his trousers and gave the President-elect an unmissable shot of his steaming bum.

Despite the strategic tantrums of senate majority leader and the chamber’s most masculine of senators, Harry Reid, Blago saw no good reason why he shouldn’t do his duty as governor and appoint Obama’s senate replacement.

FBI investigations can be quite drawn out and cumbersome, something a man of Blago’s stature can’t have much patience for, so the esteemed governor heroically refused to delay the appointment in these times of frustration and economic turmoil.

Thus Roland Burris, unknown to most before today’s bizarre press conference, became the latest star in this he-said-I-said-the-tape-said saga, and in doing so found his name as the hottest search on Google – a triumphant feat most will never know.

Rightly suspecting team Obama might not immediately embrace his nomination, Blago arranged for Congressman Bobby Rush to join him onstage in order to remind people that Obama’s senatorial departure had left the chamber without any black men at all.

As Mr. Burris is indeed a black gentleman, we must then commend Governor Blagojevich for setting aside all criminal investigations and impeachment threats and the like to serve his nation in the best way he sees fit. Evidently that means telling the President-elect to fuck off, lugging a good man’s name through the mud, and resuming business as usual.

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Barack the Magic Negro and the New GOP

Considering the News…

With the historic 2008 elections now clogging the nation’s collective memory, both major parties are striving to quickly bolster their political image with a barrage of confounding spectacles, confusing any and every American willing to pay attention along the way.

Within a bloody fortnight of winning the election Obama was steeped in shit and corruption – no advisable position for a President-elect. Why, Obama had barely commenced searching for his passport and packing his Hawaiian shirts when word spread that his abandoned senate seat was being auctioned on eBay, and apparently going for no small sum.

While Obama evidently had no hand in the seedy negotiations, his name was certainly thrust into the center of the national dialogue, an unfortunate first presidential production for a man riding the righteous tide of  Washington’s next great exorcist.

After bathing in the story like a call girl in a pile of bills, people (notably the American media) began questioning whether Blago had even committed a crime. Sure the FBI tapes seemed incriminating enough, however, what would be the condition of our prisons if we arrested every body guilty of proclaiming the desire to commit a crime? It’s not but 10 a.m. and already I have heard six different people say today they wouldn’t mind beheading our current President, and yet another who wished the same for Regis Philbin.

Not a grand opening act for America P.O. (or Post Obama). For unearthing corruption is one thing, but summoning the moral police is quite another. I’m not sure where my readers stand on the issue, yet I for one would rather miss the ability to wish death upon my least favorite public figures, or the opportunity to say I’m two drinks away from holding up a bank to appease my creditors. Actions are actions and speech is speech, and I don’t care to start monitoring my words too closely.

Now the GOP, beaten in November like an unwanted fourth daughter that should have been a first son, hasn’t chosen to seize the moral reins in these trying times – no reinvented image has been introduced hitherto. Instead the GOP seems more than content to perpetuate the unsavory perceptions already debilitating its national viability.

Hoping to become the new Republican National Committee chair, Chip Saltsman thought it rather wise to distribute a CD featuring the infamous “Barack the Magic Negro” song composed by renowned satirist, Paul Shanklin. While this is another form of speech I am fond of, the timing strikes me as a bit off.

One might think Saltsman would at least have waited until after he was awarded the position before disseminating quasi-racist soundtracks. That’s just common sense.

So it doesn’t appear either party is overly concerned with positive party identities as of yet. However, I certainly have high hopes for 2009. A new politics awaits us.

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Cease Fires and Virginity Pledges…Two Pinnacle Ploys of Mankind

Considering the News…

After enjoying my morning coffee with a few riotous news stories exploring the missile hurling competitions in the Middle East, attention was drawn to a recent study examining the true prudence of teens willingly agreeing to the infamous virginity pledge.

Now, initially I saw no connection between the two, as there doesn’t seem an obvious link between the frisky nature of raucous teenagers and the fearless demeanor of the bomb-happy Palestinians and Israelis currently reconfiguring the border along the West Bank.

Yet the more I read, the more I pondered, and the more I compared, it occurred to me that man indeed is a frivolous being, perpetually haunted by an innate instinct to seek and destroy, not long deterred by pesky cease-fire agreements and virginity pledges.

Yessir, restrictive pledges inhibit man for only so long, this evidenced by the hundreds of bombs that have rained from Middle East skies since the cease-fire agreement between Israel and Hamas ended but only 10 days ago; and also reinforced by the alarming conclusions of a recent federal study that found the majority of teenagers pledging to abstain from sex have little intention of earnestly adhering to any of the guidelines.

In fact, these conspicuous teens seem to be taking that pledge out behind the woodshed and defiling it in much haste.

Thus we see the basic instincts of man will forever prevail over arbitrary agreements and pledges, for ploys of peace and purity seem quite nice and pleasing and G-rated and what have you, but nothing sates the soul quite like bombs and orgasms – a fact of the highest caliber.

Certain truths never falter, therefore, what sense is there in pretending east and west might soon exchange sides of the moon? Jews and Palestinians don’t appear overly anxious to exchange niceties, whores never make fine housewives, and the Yankees buy a losing, albeit expensive, team nine years out of ten.

So we should aim not to suppress these indulgences, but embrace them, never relenting in our epic quest to quench the desire to make it rain. That’s all we have. Hallelujah.

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Barrels of Oil – The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Considering the News…

For the first time since 2004, you can get your hands on a barrel of oil for under 40 bucks a pop, and all economic signs point to it becoming the most fashionable and trendy gift this holiday season.

Considered the “ripoff of the summer” when Americans couldn’t hump there way into a barrel for under 140, now oil is flying off the shelves at bewildering rates, prompting some experts to call it the hottest Christmas item since the original Tickle Me Elmo.

Thus I anticipate considerable joy next week, as I celebrate the Yuletides and whatnot by showering my loved ones, all my loved ones, with a their own barrel  of bubbling oil.

Indeed, each wayward drop of black gold that flutters to the white carpet below will be but one more symbol of my love and appreciation for those close to me. This is going to be a damn fine holiday season.

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2008 – The Year of Experience and Merit in Politics

Considering the News…

2008 will be remembered for a plethora of historic achievements – A Philadelphia team not choking in the championship, Oprah becoming the first talk show host to eclipse 200 pounds more than 12 times in a career, Detroit auto companies selling more cars than ever – but perhaps this year’s most distinguished contributions to history have come per the political spectrum.

Yessir, 2008 is going down as the year experience and merit propelled savvy politicians to the mountain’s top.

There was Barack Obama dismissing the notion community organizers aren’t people, too, as he raised ungodly sums of money to spearhead his successful presidential campaign, ultimately shocking the world by becoming the country’s first black commander-in-chief.

There was Sarah Palin proving intelligence and familiarity with the U.S. Constitution is by no means a requisite for political dominance, having quickly claimed the throne of the Conservative Kingdom of Yahoos, ridding the world of barriers that hindered the likes of Forrest Gump, Britney Spears, and the French.

And now there is Caroline Kennedy laboring to extend her family’s rule in the Senate, scoffing at any indignant asshole who might contend there is more to public office than a surname and a shit-ton of money, laughing at those poor souls who are quick to remind us she has accomplished nothing of substance outside of writing a book or two and being born a Kennedy, mocking us simpletons who ever believed Democracy was devised to elect the best and the brightest – and not merely those with a familiar name and, yes, a shit ton of money.

What a year 2008 has been. Surely it will go down in infamy as the year pragmatisim had a heart attack on the john.

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Bush given jubilant Middle East farewell…Many endearing gifts thrown

Considering the News…

The warm welcome President Bush received during visits to Middle Eastern warzones amplified the cuddly affection Iraqi citizens foster for the man besk known for delivering their freedom from tyranny.

“This is your farewell kiss, you dog!” One thrilled Iraqi reporter shouted in Arabic, as he playfully tossed his shoes at the President.

Tossing shoes is evidently a friendly gesture expressing the thrower’s appreciation and gratitude for the recipient, while dogs are historically viewed as a step below only the Gods, making the reporter’s choice of words all the more impressive.

The sentiments behind this ceremonious hurling of the shoes was mirrored in the streets, as thankful Iraqis chanted, “Bush, Bush, listen well: Two shoes on your head!”

As a man of common sense might rightly conclude, two shoes to the head is much better than merely one; therefore, we in America need not be MIT mathematicians to deduce just how much the Iraqis thank President Bush for his strident persistence and clear vision of bringing freedom and democracy to the traditionally confused areas of the Middle East.

Needless to say, President-elect Barack Obama has one tough act to follow, especially with all the nonsense he’s been uttering about ending Mission Iraqi Freedom. I suspect if that’s truly Obama’s intentions once sworn into office, we should not then expect the citizens of Iraq to be hurling any shoes his way anytime soon.

Indeed, Obama likely won’t see even one shoe tossed his way, let alone two.

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8 percent of Illinois residents are crazy…Many proud parents

Considering the News…

Embattled Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich is still a very popular figure in his home state, as recent polls indicate eight percent of his constituents still think rather highly of him.

And that’s no laughable accomplishment considering his current legal troubles, so I imagine his parents are quite proud of him these days, calling all friends and acquaintences in the rolodex for some good old fashioned offspring praising.

And yet Blago might not even be the most admired golden child in the state, what with Jessie Jackson’s boy Jessie Jackson sowing a rather sparkling image for himself, making all sorts of glamorous headlines and becoming an earnest talking point for late night talk show hosts. Quite a big deal he’s become.

Indeed, I’m no father myself, however, I’m compelled to believe a son like Jessie Jr. would bring me unparalleled joy. Few things elevate the spirits of a good-hearted man in the same fashion as witnessing a son surpass the public greatness of himself, and Jessie Jackson’s certainly a good-hearted man if there ever was one.

I’m sure the Jacksons are going to have a splendid Christmas this year, and so too the Blagojevich family. They’ll receive all sorts of thoughtful gifts and a litany of endearing cards, all coming from eight percent of the friends and family they once had.

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Jessie Jackson Jr., how dare you bring money into politics

Considering the News…

If recent speculation out of Illinois proves to be remotely veracious, then Jessie Jackson Jr., son of the esteemed Jessie Jackson, yes, that Jessie Jackson, had better commence preparation of an explanation.

The damning word from Lincoln’s Land is that J-Cubed is “Candidate 5″ of the scandalous saga concerning Illinois Gov. Blagojevich’s unique interpretation of corruption. While the alias “Candidate 5″ has a pleasant ring to it – it sounds both official and surprisingly James Bondish - it isn’t a moniker Jessie’s son Jessie necessarily enjoys today.

This because Candidate 5 is allegedly the only candidate of the group (it is believed there were only 5 candidates, but who can be certain these days?) who offered straight cash for the open senate seat left by President-elect Obama.

Although the other 4 implicated candidates (again, I stress there may be many, many more, perhaps dozens, if not hundreds) reportedly refused participance in Blagojevich’s “Pay for Play” style of business, it appears Triple-J was more than willing to deliver one million in unmarked bills straight to Blago’s campaign coffers in exchange for the appointment.

(Editor’s Note: I have yet to find any reports of how Rep. Jackson Jr. obtained these unmarked bills, or any reports that he actually ever even offered unmarked bills, for that matter. They likely weren’t unmarked bills.)

What we do know, or what speculators close to the investigation believe they know, is that the son of Jessie sought to purchase the senate seat in very much the same way a mob boss furnishes the condo of his mistress – with straight cash. And such an ostentatious approach doesn’t jive with accepted political tradition, for democracy is the people’s system, not the financier’s playpen.

Thus Junior Jackson’s current standing isn’t enviable in the least, for what politician wishes to be marred by allegations of buying his or her office? What public official wants his or her legacy tainted by astronomical sums of money, ungodly amounts of money, being used to close the deal?

Indeed, not many that I know of. Especially not from Illinois, the cherished Land of Lincoln. Not a chance.

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Obama is British and Harry Potter is a Muggle

Considering the News…

The grandest court in all the land has rejected an emergency appeal from a New Jersey man who claims to know more about the President-elect than even, say, the President-elect.

No, he’s not a biographer, per se, but he understands natural citizenship more than most, which makes it a damn shame his case won’t be heard in earnest by the U.S. Supreme Court.

Leo Donofrio (yes, that’s his real name) of Brunswick, N.J., contends that as Obama’s mother was American but his father was Kenyan, and thus a British subject, in no way whatsoever can Obama really be a pure-blood American, rendering him ineligible for the presidency.

It’s a vague and shady genetic equation, but Donofrio’s theory is flawless and has the backing of a monumental precedent. You see, in the case of Hermione v. Hogwartz School of Wizardry, Professor Dumbledore ruled that as Ms. Granger was undeniably the mixed blood product of a witch and a muggle, she did not qualify for classification as a pure-blood witch, no matter how prodigious her abilities.

Thus I hope the U.S. Supreme Court reconsiders the egregious dismissal of such a sincere case. Once again America finds itself at the mercy of the courts electing to legislate from the bench. What a dark world we live in.

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Illinois continues streak of corrupt governors

Considering the News…

The state of Illinois is precise and methodical in electing only the most corrupt scumbags to office, especially when it comes to the governorship. Perhaps no other member of the union boasts a better track record of crooked politicians than Illinois, save maybe New Jersey and Louisiana.

It’s rather startling to fathom one state successfully electing such brazen thieves time and time again, an ultimate exercise of participatory democratic destruction. Nevermind the occasional successes like, say, a Durbin or an Obama – Illinois embraces the notion of unsavory, untrustworthy government  and should be commended for its ardent devotion to a single set of ideals.

How rebellious. How adventurous. How non-partisan.

You see, as news breaks of Democratic Governor Rod Blagojevich’s arrests on too many counts of corruption to trouble the WordPress servers with, one must appreciate how bipartisan Illinois corruption really is, for his arrest comes as his predecessor rots in federal prison for racketeering and fraud.

Blagojevich, the silly son of a bitch he is, actually campaigned on, get this, cleaning up the despicable mess left by Republican Governor George Ryan. And, of course, he won!

But, contrary to Blagojevich’s charming beliefs, Illinois didn’t put him in office because they yearned for change, but, rather, because they knew he was just the man to perpetuate the seedy ways of Ryan. Indeed, having realized this soon after the inauguration, Blagojevich embarked on his own term of terror, cutting deals with any and every company with a checkbook.

And Blagojevich, God bless his soul, became so proud of his work in corruption that he fancied extending a dirty hand to the nation’s capitol, offering up the Senate seat left open by Obama’s election to the highest bidder. Now that’s government we can believe in.

It’s now a shame that Blago won’t be around to see what his great work in corruption means to his beloved home state, the Land of Lincoln. But we know this. We know the citizens of Illinois always have a crook lurking in the shadows, and his replacement will perhaps be an even bigger piece of shit than him.

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Alert:Boy George is creepier than we thought

Considering the Weird…

Turns out Boy George is the one hurting people these days.

The disturbed pervert, who stormed through the fame gates with his 1980s songs “Karma Chameleon” and “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me”, was found guilty today of falsely imprisoning one of his teammates from the coke-addled porn stars.

Turns out Georgie lured his unsuspecting victim back to the crib after a porn shoot (creepy), handcuffed him to a wall (creepier), and then proceeded to beat him into submission with a chain (creepy, yes, but also wrong as hell).

The 47-year-old cross dresser reportedly hatched the wicked scheme in retaliation for his victim refusing to sleep with him when they originally met, which highlights just how jumbled Boy George’s head is.

The two starred together in a raunchy pino before heading back to a nasty love palace where handcuffs and chains and lotions awaited, yet George was ticked about not getting that weeks or months or whatever beforehand…Wow.

Just doesn’t make any damn sense. But, then again, neither do songs about chameleons, so what do I know.

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The Juice faces 6 years to life – The squeeze is on

Considering the News…

O.J. can set the golf clubs down and grab a trash pick, because the only greens he’ll be seeing for awhile will be roadside ditch weeds as he stabs at McDonald’s sacks  in his neon orange vest.

Yes sir, the Juice is finally doing time. Six years to life, in fact. Should be brutal. Especially as he sits in his unfinished cell block trying to wrap his meager mind around the bewildering fact a man can actually do hard time for stealing his own shit. Simply dumbfounding, I know, Juice.

But all the glitter isn’t gold, as they say, and the sparks around O.J. Simpson’s once glorified life have faded faster than the 2008 Buffalo Bills.

Perhaps the Juice will use this opportunity to establish a new state of mind, one that doesn’t take orbit around his own greed and self-centered ambitions, one where ex-lovers become friends and fans find equal ground with stars.

Maybe he’ll find Jesus. Maybe he’ll find Allah. Maybe he’ll find Tito the lovely body builder from cell block 9.

Not sure. Nor do I care. The glove fit this time and they used it to keep hands clean while squeezing the freedom juice from Simpson’s fantasy world. Ain’t life grand, that so many can find peace and joy in the unnecessary sorrows of such a confused soul.

oj-simpson-tv-book-special-hypothetical-11-16-2006   

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Love him or hate him, Karl Rove has a point

Considering the News…

A lot of people hate that Karl Rove. They hate him for getting George W. Bush elected. They hate him for nearly succeeding in his devious quest for everlasting conservative rule. They hate him because his wobbly chin(s) just tend to piss people off.

He’s been called ruthless, conniving, underhanded, surreptitious, heartless, and I’m sure even a pole-smoking SOB.

Yet what political mastermind achieves such notoriety without boasting a few of these unsavory traits? Love and warmth seldom imbue the hearts of iconic political strategist, especially those like Rove who consider every angle of character assassination…Like freaking out a bunch of rednecks by insinuating a certain candidate may or may not have an illegitimate child with a black woman, in much the same way Rove and Bush infamously did to John McCain in South Carolina during the 2000 Republican primaries.

Yes, a lot of folks despise that Rove. Wish evil things upon him. Google things like “Hitman for hire” because of him. However, for good or ill, mostly ill, Karl Rove knows politics. He also knows just how much money plays in any given election.

Inspired by the Obama campaign fundraising juggernaut, Rove penned this Op-ed in The Wall Street Journal, where he is a regularly contributor. Essentially, Rove argues that McCain was a victim of his own sword, as the 2002 campaign finance reform he spearheaded with Sen. Russ Feingold ultimately swung back around and sliced off his own manhood during the battle against Barack.

Thus Rove now advocates complete “Freedom of Political Speech” in regards to campaign donations, meaning he wants to give rich Republican donors the opportunity to buy elections, like back in the good old days.

In years past, this idiocy would have warranted an immediate condemnation from this writer, standing behind the pure democratic thought that money should play little to no factor in elections.

Having now considered the many reports of citizens like Bart Simpson and Darth Vader donating to Obama’s campaign via pre-paid debit cards, I concede the issue must be readdressed. I concede that pole-smoking SOB, Karl Rove, might just have a point.

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Women politicians aren’t all stupid

Considering the News…

lleana Ros-Lehtinen might live her life paranoid as a first-time overnight prison guest, but at least she doesn’t suffer from dumb. No, the Republican congresswoman from Florida is sharp, crafty, witty, eloquent, familiar with the U.S. Constitution…

Hell, those traits are mere hearsay, and I have no evidence to support those claims. But whether Ros-Lehtinen is a valedictorian or a varsity football team bicycle is no concern of mine, for at least we know she’s a pure-hearted skeptic, willing to insult the President-elect to preserve whatever dignity she might fancy herself to have.

When Barack Obama extended a benevolent hand across the aisle, Ros-Lehtinen slapped it down like Barry was making an sleazy pass at her thighs. Reports indicate that Obama, then Rahm Emanuel, attempted to phone Ros-Lehtinen, only to hear echos and a freaking click.

There was no malicious intent on her part, Ros-Lehtinen simply thought some limp-dicks from a local radio station were trying to make light of her. Sensing it might be a prank phone call, she played hardball right backand hung up on the bastards…Only it was the next President.

Embarrassing for her, yes. But not quite as humiliating as, say, a clueless Alaskan moosetress believing President Sarkozy of France truly gives two shits and wants to wish her well on the campaign trail. Because, you know, that would be quite the blemish on an otherwise sterling common sense track record.

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Home Shopping Network crime spree – When will the madness end?

Considering the News…

The Home Shopping Network is renowned for its worldly products and seductive bargains…We’re not only going to slash the original price, but we’re going to take another 25 dollars off and throw in a Russian made-for-order bride and a Swiss Army knife to the next 50 callers…Who can beat that? You can’t. You won’t.

You see, there’s successful business models, piss-poor business models, and then there’s the Home Shopping Network – the house of essentials glistening on a staged hill.

Marketing and advertising are unshakable staples of the consumer economy, yet the Home Shopping Network has thrived by taking chances, testing limits like Rosie O in spandex at a $7.95 Chinese buffet. Indeed, HSN doesn’t market in the traditional sense, like say, Hardees jamming the double bacon monster burger down the throats of the imminent triple-bypass crowd…too damn easy. The strategy of short-sighted simpletons.

Instead, at HSN, the actual product is the marketing.

Sexy vixens massaging fishing poles. Loquacious butchers slicing scintillating Omaha steaks. Sexy vixens massaging lotions into palms and forearms, lotions with which one might massage and lotion other things. Loquacious butchers now drilling through 28 stuffed Turduckens. Sexy vixen massaging Omaha steaks.

Doesn’t matter what the product is, just who’s drilling, slicing or cradling the thing. And it works. It’s entertaining. Enlightening. Addictive. How addictive, you ask…

A former bank teller who pleaded guilty to embezzlement told investigators she was addicted to a cable TV shopping network.

Cassandra Ryder, a former teller at the Branch Banking & Trust (BB&T) in Copperhill, Tenn., said she often purchased items from the network with the embezzled funds.

Ryder was sentenced Monday to 15 months in prison for embezzling $134,000 between January 2005 and September 2007

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The Detroit Auto Clowns – Trimming the Fat Cats

Considering the News…

The incompetent stooges of Detroit’s big three are waxing their bikini lines and preparing for another vulgar swimsuit competition before the drunken judges of congress. I suspect the future holds some lap dances for dollars, erotic cries for mercy, and whispers of sweet, sweet nothings into any open ear this side of Chevy Chase.

And it’s all a bitter lie more transparent than the reformed addicts of Hollyweird. (Hey! But these humbled lugs are coming in earnest this time! They’ve even sold off half the private jets to buy Toyota hybrids! These guys are driving to Washington!) Well, that’s a sizzling lump of bullshit.

These flabby cats are bopping into town in a damn clown car and we’re expected to shell out 34 Billion for the performance. Maybe if those pampered scoundrels pulled up in a Greyhound, because even Sarah Palin can take a 16-week course on common sense, but she’s not passing the final without smearing some serious lipstick.

So I say congress relocates that old dusty box of jock straps and do what any respectable sports program would do when sweeping tides pull a good name into the deep waters of underachievement…Fire the bastards and start fresh.

You want America to bail out your company? Sure, we’ll help you. Let’s start by getting a competent coaching staff to replace these clueless hacks.

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Sarah Palin told me to do it – Psychiatric evaluation ensues

Considering the News…

God is a mysterious being - no one denies that - but His actions have been quite questionable as of late.

First it was letting Sarah Palin in on the secret that His “Will” inspired Americans to rid the earth of all terrorists. Then it was telling Sarah Palin the prospects for a 2012 run look good. And now He’s even telling truckers to patrol traffic, stopping at nothing to get the lousy drivers off the road.

At least one vigilante driver took God’s wishes to heart, as a San Antonio trucker rammed his truck into some woman’s ride because the Man Upstairs told him “she needed to be taken off the road.”

Apparently God is so far ahead of schedule these days He’s now extended the list of sins to include shitty driving. Right.

Well, we can already see where this is heading. Pleading insanity was a 1990s thing. Now “God’s Will” is the new best defense for criminal believers and lunatics. Which leads me to conclude I should attend service more often. Get in touch with God. See if he can’t tell me to rob a bank or knock off a few convenience shops. Guess He only contacts the good and the righteous. Damn.

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Things you can’t say in Colorado – Your lady is a tramp

Considering the News…

One has to wonder how the hell Hunter S. Thompson ever got away with living in Colorado. The guy should have done some serious time…and not just for the abundance of mind-bending drugs and explosives…Thompson’s typewriter should have gotten him locked up thrice daily.

The news out of Fort Collins is that some 40-year-old buster was arrested for, get this reader, calling his lady a lousy whore on Craigslist. Ok, perhaps his rhetoric was a weeee-bit more libelous than that (He actually claimed she was giving her lawyer the business in exchange for legal representation), but it sets a startling precedent either way you lube the shaft.

You see, people just don’t get arrested for saying, writing, or publishing that kind of twisted shit these days. Wrists are slapped. Retractions are printed. Apologies are faked. But no one gets 18 months in the “fun shower” for calling his lady a no-good, meddling tramp on the damn “Raves and Rants” section of Craigslist. Maybe in China. Maybe in North Korea. Maybe those blasted Russians even take a pinky toe to prove a point.

But under no circumstances should any American face time for calling a loved one an easy skank – no matter how ludicrous the claims. This is a classic case of “Slander per se”  since the guy challenged a woman’s “chastity,” however, such ugly claims are made in every middle school, high school, college, and redneck-infested watering hole 365 days a year.  

Should this truly warrant one’s imprisonment? Do we have room for this in American prisons? Do you, reader, personally know anyone outside of your grandmother who hasn’t called someone a whore, even in jest, at one time or twelve others?

You see, the worst part is the actual wording of the Colorado statute that made this arrest possible…Any words “tending to blacken the memory of one who is dead” or to “expose the natural defects of one who is alive, and thereby to expose him to public hatred, contempt or ridicule.”

Jesus! Pretty damn vague if you ask me. Seems quite a few could be picked up on this. The people of Colorado better act fast and fix this preposterous speech limitation, lest they wish to winnow away their remaining days in complete solitude and silence.

And as for Mr. Man with the filthy mind – perhaps he should consider reading up on John Peter Zenger and private investigators before his hearing, because if his lady is as naughty as he claims, this could be a quick and easy defense.

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Restoring the Fairness Doctrine – Rush Limbaugh moans self to sleep

Considering the News…

If they’re down, kick the rascals in the ribs – it’s the only means for solidifying a new social order.

Rush Limbaugh’s fat jaw has been jiggling with trepidation since the “far left” won the election and established a sizable advantage in both houses of congress. The pill-popping propagandist’s fears continue snowballing each broadcast, as he laments the restoration of the Fairness Doctrine and what terrible fate awaits his paranoia kingdom if such a nightmare comes true.

And why wouldn’t he be frightened – conservative talk radio has experienced unparalleled growth since the doctrine was abolished in 1987. 10-1! That’s the advantage these chatty fear-mongers and religionados have in the market, so it’s no surprise they’ve chomped their nails down to bloody stubs in recent months.

With Obama’s victory comes the appointment of a Democrat to the most influential post in the FCC - the chairman – as well as the highly influential five-person panel.

This would seemingly spell doom for the Limbaughs and Sean Hannitys of the world, yet there’s no evidence Obama even supports the Fairness Doctrine, let alone aims to re-establish its restrictive measures since it challenges aspects of the First Amendment. In fact, Limbaugh’s daily temper tantrums will ultimately prove a waste of raw energy and emotion…though, that’s nothing beyond the ordinary. That’s what talking heads do – stoke public outcries and watch the ratings soar.

Free hookers and booze will find the streets before “fairness” ever realistically hits the airwaves, yet the eventual move to “localism” could spawn a similarly daunting effect, as the FCC forms “community advisory boards” to determine whether a respective station is adequately addressing the public needs of local citizens, fining those that fail to meet the requisite standards (whatever those may be).

What will happen is the hardcore conservative areas (fewer and fewer of these black holes exist each year) will pass with the flying colors of a Cirque de Soleil acid trip, while the other 94 percent of the under-represented country will insist on more progressive programming.

And that sucks for Rush’s kingdom, where subordinates cower under beds with swords ready, listening attentively to the puppet master as he forecasts the imminent demise of everything American…BOO!

What Humpty neglects to address during his insufferable rants and tangents is that his own eventual fall from the wall won’t be the product of crazy liberal doctrines sweeping him away with a spurt of hocus pocus, but because more enlightened Americans are reaching for the dial each day, leaving the dick in a box to continue rambling on and on and on all by himself…

Either way, liberals and Fairness Doctrines won’t be the cause of conservative talk radio’s death – the temper, tone and content already does a damn fine job killing off its own creators.

The paranoia kingdom goes up in smoke

The paranoia kingdom goes up in smoke

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President Bush pardons 14 – The real juice awaits

Considering the News…

Georgie boy shocked the world by granting 14 Presidential pardons and two sentence commutations – not because of the sheer number or inherent malice behind the execused crimes, but because the list lacks the blockbuster ringers we particularly expect from such a surreptitious and unapologetic man.

This list simply begs one question: Where the hell’s the juice, George? Give us something, for Chrissake.

The yawn-inducing roll call of elementary crimes reads more like a high school suspension log than a catalogue rife with heinous, wicked crimes against humanity. Why break the news of these pardons unless offering a long list of society-crippling acts glorified in movies but unimaginable to the common, sensible citizenry?

Bank embezzlement?

Income tax evasion?

Unauthorized aquisition of food stamps? Food stamps?

Improper storage and disposal of toxic waste?

Violating the Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act?

Conspiracy to distribute cocaine and Ricky Williams’ personal stash? (Old college buddy from Yale?)

Aiding and abetting the theft of government property? (Cheney and the Haliburton posse?)

George better beef up the list before exiting stage right, lest he desires the long-lasting classification of “America’s biggest Pussy-elect.” I don’t think he does. No, I’m compelled to believe we’ll soon see the most repulsive collection of “Get out of jail free” cards since Ford, when he said all was well and forgotten with that crook Nixon.

This limited sample is but an unsatisfying taste of what awaits us. Yes sir, George’s last day in office will blow more minds than LSD did in the 60s. The pre-emptive pardons will clear the names of every war criminal that wreaked havoc under his rein…It’s going to be a damn long list, too.

The 140 pardons granted by Clinton on his last day will be a sack of dusty seeds next to the bewildering fields of crookedness George will soon sow before the public’s eyes. Executive privilege will be invoked many times, as he execuses his own self from any explanations or motives. It’s going to be some scandalous shit, but at least we’ll get a little juice.

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China hates on Guns N’ Roses – Americans applaud China

Considering the News…

The ruling Communist Party of China has a thorn up its ass, and it goes by the name Guns N’ Roses. We should then expect some form of attack, for one is surely imminent. Not an attack on America as a whole, but specifically that greasy bandanna-rocking clown Axl…I imagine Slash is under siege just the same.

GNR’s highly-anticipated album Chinese Democracy is just too free spirited for the paranoid erectors of mysterious walls, as the state sponsored Global Times denounced the mildly provocative album of, “venomously attacking,” the rising superpower.

Thus record sales of the 14-year project (GNR began production of the sure-fire classic in 1994) will suffer to no end in China…mostly because it will be outlawed…but also because the Chinese aren’t stupid.

Communism must fry a black, charred trail through the vulnerable pastures of one’s mind, but I suspect the perceptions of reality are not so devastated and damaged to the point its victims are forever incapable of classifying shitty music when they hear it.

So while it’s imperative we commend the Chinese government for rejecting this lame musical offering from society, I fear the move was quite unnecessary – no matter how many democratically inspired lyrics grace the album’s songs, freedom lyrics aren’t saving this album, or band, either way.

Axl scares the Chinese...among others

Axl scares the Chinese...among others

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Hannity and Colmes part ways – No reports of violence

Considering the News…

Alan Colmes is leaving Sean Hannity. The relationship became too nasty and abusive for the limp Colmes to endure yet another year of savage beatings and taunts and black eyes, so he’s filing his papers and seeking some much needed psychiatric attention – a well deserved respite if I’ve ever seen one.

The 12-year marriage will officially dissolve at the year’s end, when Colmes leaves to “pursue other creative projects” within the Republican National Committee’s official network, Fox News. The loan liberal on a star studded station of neo-cons and Bushites will reportedly continue contributing on his radio show and a new weekend pilot, however, his days of verbal sparring with that smug and pretentious Hannity shall be no more.

Which is rather sad when you reminisce on all the good times they’ve had, launching vicious attacks at one another’s party ideology and coming close to blows on numerous occasions. Colmes was vastly outnumbered, the entire network against him, yet somehow managed to hold his own. Thus I’m saddened by the thought of him leaving the show without ever having jammed a dull, lead pencil into Hannity’s right eye.

Too many opportunities escaped him, and I clearly recall at least 300 moments of unbridled Hannity condescension when I said, “This is it, this is when that little pussy Colmes finally stabs that cock Hannity in the goddamn eye with a dull, lead pencil. This is it!”

But it never happened. And now Colmes is calling it quits while turning in his badge and pocket protector.

Damn.

Hannity gets in a final blow on Colmes

Hannity gets in a final blow on Colmes

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The Obese – Two people or people, too?

Considering the News…

Fat people are people, too – that’s just accepted science. Perhaps they suffer inconveniences and alienation unknown to the rest, but pound for pound they are just as human as their undersized brethren.

However, now those afflicted by clapping man titties, cottage cheese thighs, and bubbling and bulging waist lines will be considered more than mere people. They are now super people…Yes, super people with the rights of two citizens.

You see, the Canadian Supreme Court (in the most perplexing of all rulings) has concluded each ass cheek should be given equal rights, at least when it comes to traveling on commercial jets. Therefore, Canadian airlines must now sell the extraordinarily healthy folks two seats for the price of one, if, of course, their bloated asses cannot comfortably fit into seats fitted for the common man.

Wow. Fucking wow. I am an ardent supporter of all things equality, but this is downright egregious. The skinny man gets the long, cold and rigid shaft, as his chubby counterparts reap the benefits of luxury seating on account of their inflated rumps trumping standard seat sizes.

That’s just fucking crazy. And it’s only the first step in a long and dirty trend that will unfold as people get fatter and more pissed off about it. If fat people are getting away with this today (given it’s only Canada) then we can only imagine what startling perks they will be rewarded in the coming decades.

The little man better bulk up now. Double Whoppers for everyone. Skinny folks can’t afford to fall behind. There’s too much riding on it. The porkers of the world have spoken, and they now hold all the cards. And apparently all the seats, too.

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's TWO fucking people!

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's TWO fucking people!

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Innocent turkey slaughtered – Best Sarah Palin interview yet

Considering the News…

My esteemed, albeit irrational and afflicted, colleague I.M. Fletcher brought this remarkable video to my attention. While I’m sure I would have stumbled across it in time, it brings me greater joy knowing this priceless entertainment came from such an appreciative source.  

Sarah Palin has endured seismic humiliation since slithering into the limelight, mostly due to her utter stupidity and mind-boggling ability to slaughter the English language with every sentence (or attempt at a sentence) she speaks.

While conducting a nice little local interview and sounding surprisingly more coherent and relevant than we are accustomed to hearing, the curious eye cannot help but gaze directly at the worker giving a turkey the business in the background. Which likely explains why this is the best performance offered hitherto by the Alaskan moosetress – your mind can’t process a word she says. All you can do is stare, mesmerized, as the poor turkey’s head is grinded brutally to a pulp in the distance.

The worker seems quite pleased with his own performance – and I commend him for it.

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On again, off again – the Clinton-Obama power saga

Considering the news…

These two clowns are worse than Whitney and Bobby Brown. One day they’re cuddling on the campaign trail, unforced smiles and waves for the camera, only to abandon the bond 36 hours later, projecting fictitious distance and autonomy while confusing the shit out of people.

Which is what makes this Clinton-Obama political love affair and political warfare so addicting for everyone watching – even more so for the enamored fiends who have followed this combative grudge match through each fiery day of the last two years. This is Ali-Frazier, except now archenemies are teaming up for the good of mankind…or so it seems.hillary-clinton-barack-obama-new-hampshire

Barack needs the Clintons and the Clintons need him, but I’ll be damned if any of them openly admits as much. When the situation requires one of them to suck it up and offer an endorsement of sorts, such lines are visibly forced from their mouths, a look of contempt and agitation dominates their eyes and expression.

Thus there are some parts admiration and some parts hatred in this ongoing feud, with the latter winning out most times. Especially now that Barack is offering Clinton a piece of the action in his race to history.  

Hillary knows 2016 is a painful and impossible dream, so accepting Barack’s Secretary of State invitation is her last and best shot at some feable grasp of glory. Her downplaying the position, posing an auro of pseudo-disinterest and snobby foolishness, is a farmer selling a dead donkey as a prized bull because no one’s buying that shit. She just wants it to seem as though Barack needs her more, like he’s pining for her love and affection, like she’s that piece of Grade-A ass he got back in college and has been fantasizing about everyday since.

And he is. He desires the most talented minds to be in his company – yet sometimes prodigious minds bring a circus of tricks and jokers along with them on tour. With Hillary on board, Barack’s mission  will be to continually convince everyone he’s, in fact, the almighty ring leader and that some gross mutation won’t spawn a third Clinton term somehow.

By inviting Hillary (and thus Slick Willie) into the administration, Obama realizes the power sacrifice he’s conceding – he’s far too strategic and observant not to. However, by letting this offer flutter in the stale air of cable news commentary for the past week, Obama has once again turned the attention away from himself and onto the Clintons, the kind of maneuver that ultimately seized momentum toward winning the nomination, when media personalities lodged their heads in the trash and spent a week questioning Bill’s admiration for candidates of color, forgetting there was even a blasted race going on in the background.

And it’s a brilliant diversion on Barack’s part. There’s a feel that he wants Hillary but doesn’t need Hillary. The way it should be, for it takes a trailer park of great people for an administration to succeed in the eyes of present day thinkers. Historians, on the other hand, generally remember only one name when writing the books of presidential blunders and glories. No matter what happens, Barack better make sure it’s his name on the cover.

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Joe the Plumber and Joe the Victim

Considering the News…

Our beloved plumber’s crack split the news headlines once again, as it has been determined that an Ohio state agency director approved dubious and unnecessary background checks on Joe Wurzelbacher, better known as John McCain’s crooked campaign crutch.

Jesus to fuck, can’t a guy reap absolutely undeserved fame without people clawing through his trash in search of the mucky sludge on which the American machine runs? Is there no shame funneling through the veins of these atrocious gossip-mongers?

Well, I say someone owes poor Joe an apology. Or at least a damn convincing explanation, something the seedy and conniving Helen Jones-Kelley couldn’t offer her superior, however. The Department of Job and Family Services director faltered miserably when asked to explain these 18 unwarranted checks, and now Gov. Ted Strickland is in her ass hardcore, suspending HJK for a month sans pay.

Oooh-weeee that’s justice!

But not for poor Joe the Plumber, who will never again know dignity. The humiliation cost the 48K-a-year man a chance at one day owning that shiny plumbing company on the hill. Now he wallows and whines his way into the night, with nothing but a book deal and potential country music record to rely on. I fear I may never understand the purpose of life’s harsh unfairness.

You deserve better, Joe.

You deserve better, Joe.

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The spicy battle between 50 Cent and Taco Bell

Considering the News…

There’s beef and beans between 50 Cent and Taco Bell. Expect corpses to start piling up because this feud could get nasty in the streets. Many will parish. Bloodied chalupas scattered in the hood.

The lisp-riddled rapper is pissed at the Tex-Mex giant because the latter hoped he might consider temporarily changing his name to 79 Cent or 89 Cent or even – you ready for this shit? – 99 Cent to spearhead an unprecedented marketing campaign bringing hip hop and crappy Mexican food together at last.

Well, this clearly challenged a “gangsta’s” street cred, and now Curtis “Can’t Act” Jackson is seeking mad paper for trademark infringment. Ok. So this gangster ass rapper will embarrass himself on the big screen and pimp diluted vitamin piss water, but he’s worried that hawking tacos is going to diminish his reputation. Whatever you say. Stay hood, buddy.

50 Cent and his gangster ass homie

50 Cent and his gangster ass homie

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Auto Giants seek bailout – As do I

Considering the News…

The three stooges of Detroit are dead broke and need money to pay the bookies and dealers. Don’t we all. This debilitating epidemic of corporate bailouts will soon bring about the death of failure. Worries will cease to exist, as CEOs realize the government prefers Nintendo world to these savage realities.

Oh, your stock died? Fuck it, here’s some cash, just restart the game and don’t screw it up this time. Jesus, you fucked up again. Whatever, here’s some more cash. Try harder this time.

Indeed, the American business world is devolving into a college dorm room, where bong hits for Jesus blur the tedious line between failure and a fresh slate. It’s disconcerting, but who the hell didn’t love freshman year?

So rather than waste even an ounce of the energy or spirit I will undoubtedly need later in life, I will save the verbal crucifixions of the auto industry for another time. If they want more money to build even more of the antiquated gas-guzzlers that no one is buying and never will, then who am I to suggest they embrace the evolving technologies of the industry. Lord knows Toyota isn’t begging for cheddar.

Instead I will wholeheartedly welcome the welfare tactics that aim to undermine the working man’s motivation. If I haven’t yet failed with the best of them, thus necessitating the need for a healthy government check, then perhaps my mission should be forming a coalition of failures to strengthen this lone voice of need.

There is power in numbers. The government won’t consider the bailout of one man, only that of many. If you’re unemployed, broke, and in need, then the government shall be your savior. If you’re gainfully employed but have grown weary of the daily grind, so too shall you find salvation in the undeserved riches of our lords in Washington. There’s bailout checks to be had. Everyone can cash in. Now is our time to say fuck it and start over.

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Spitzer prostitute sits down with Diane Sawyer – Hilarity ensues

Considering the News…

Diane Sawyer’s tireless tentacles have slithered around yet another monumental catch, and this one smells like an epic tale.

Eliot Spitzer’s high-class whore wants to open up the forbidden satchel of naughty memories, and who better to lob the juicy questions than the great Sawyer. Damn, this should be a show!

You see, Sawyer has scraped a bottomless cradle of closed minds – world leaders, iconic Hollywood skanks, crooked politicians, gifted thinkers, transcendent beings, J-Lo’s horse ass, the whole bucket of slop – but the numbing monotony can never rival the sheer pleasure derived from watching a true sex goddess ratting out her slaves.

Diane admires J-Lo's rack of lamb

Diane admires J-Lo's rack of lamb

Not that I don’t sympathize with Spitzer. The man was doing a commendable job and he was well respected, yet occasionally the unrelenting instincts of man seem to require some form of strange satisfaction. However, this is what comes with getting caught freelancing in these conflicted and hypocritical times.

Indeed, I would freely wage a thousand dollars that at least eight people on set during the filming have tickled a neighbor or two or twelve, like the great Sawyer herself!

And yet I’d wager another thousand that none of those affairs was with an upper-class call girl pulling down 6 six figures a year. Spitzer at least has some freaking standards.

The Spitzers realize monogamy awaits them both

The Spitzers realize monogamy awaits them both

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Secret Palin doodles illustrate her confused nature – Charles Manson prevails

Considering the News…

The recent discovery of Sarah Palin’s secret doodles, drawn during her time on the Wasilla City Council in 1996, clearly illustrate the confusion that has forever plagued this woman’s mind. This doodle was originally sketched by the Alaskan artist to adequately exhibit her qualifications for public office. This serves as evidence that those reasons were just as confusing and chaotic then as they are now.palindoodles1

 

Here, by contrast, is a doodle done by President Warren G. Harding, one of the country’s biggest political travesties. While the artist doesn’t offer us much substance, we cannot easily dismiss the clarity and depth of his vision. That vision is evidently of throwing a handful of shit against a brick wall…Well, a first-year art student would be satisfied with this art deco effort nonetheless.

 

4_dood_harding_warren_g_art_deco

 

And lastly we have this doodle done by Charles Manson while awaiting trial for his heinous crimes. Observers must appreciate the self-image he projected - the duality of man, if you will. Alright, alright, we’re stretching it here. But it somehow seemed oddly fitting for these three pieces to come together as a definitive statement on the doodles offered to us by some of America’s most disappointing citizens.doodle1

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