Damn. Out Of The Park.

Read this please. From calm68 on the Balloon Juice post Your Modern GOP in Three Clips:

Like most viewers I thought Clint’s presentation was odd, sad,laughable, incongruous. Somehow this was a moment that just didn’twork out. But it was President Obama’s response tweet that got methinking at a much deeper level. Obama responds with a picture ofhimself sitting in his chair in the Oval Office, back turned to theviewer, saying, “This chair is taken.” Directly to Romney, terse anddefiant. Why did Obama respond to that moment, Clint’s strangerambling off-topic schtick? Isn’t Obama too smart to respond? ButObama’s response was so pointed, so potent. Clearly something neededto be addressed.

So I went back to the whole Clint Eastwood stunt and re-watched it afew times with a critical eye. Here’s what I come up with: that was an intentional act of imagined violence against President Obama at adeep semiotic, level of American mythos. Take the optics, Clint comesout under a huge backdrop of the Western gunslinger. He starts amonologue vs. ‘the punk.’ (Do you feel lucky, punk? Well do you?)The punk, the empty chair, the empty suit, responds by telling Romney,‘Go fuck yourself.’ Clint scolds Obama and leads the crowd in achant, “Go ahead. Make my day.” At which point, as we all know,offstage, Clint would then shoot the punk and kill him.

This was a very public, very deeply mythical/semiotic imaginativeenactment of violence against the sitting President of the US. It wasa post-modern lynching, black-faced dehumanization. I think Obama gotexactly what was going on and that’s why he responded with such force.

Personally, I am disgusted by it. There is an evil afoot in Americatoday. It is essential that we stand firm against it.

The Barack Obama Tweet in question?

 "This chair is taken."

Goddamn, this guy has ice in his veins. Spread this, this comment is absolutely it.

h/t ms yafb at Rumproast

That Was Quite The Opening Night

Jesus, that was too dumb to snark about.

To paraphrase Ann Romney: "Mitt wasn't given anything. He built it!"
Ummm, Annie, get offin' yer horsie for a bit and allow me to explain inheritances and trust funds and those stocks you and Mitt had to cash in to got to college - or did he buy those with his paper route? Oh, a few thousand, in 60's dollars, a year in birthday money?* The stocks appreciated approx 1600%? Well, poop, you poor baby, and having the both of you cut off from your parents and support system so that if you ran into trouble you'd be selling South American disco dust at Harvard Yard to pay for ramen. I so empathize with you, dear.

Look, Ms. Romney, you both came from wealth, and yeah, Windsock Willard worked hard and you became wealthier. Legally, if wildly immorally. Congratulations. Own it, please. If you are so much better than us, show us. Say 'hell yes, I fired those people. Made me a million-two. I da man!' Or STFU.

Janine Turner, from Northern Exposure, and some hick talk radio station. Disclaimer: I loved Northern X, no doubt Maggie was a sort of feminist role-model, smart and talented and knew her own head. Janine, ummm, remember, you got a good thing going with the Paula Deen look and the wingnut gravy. Push all those wonderful scenes out of your mind. Rush Limbaugh may be single soon.

Chris Christie: I did not see his 2016 pitch/keynote address live, but have watched some vid this morning. Pick your caricature, it's too easy. Honest to god, he has taken Vito Corleone as a role model.

But again, that's too easy. I'm thinking Mr. Toht from Raiders.

The attitude.

I haven't seen video, but just pictures. Was the Boehner sobbing on stage again?

It's only going to get dumber. Throwing peanuts at a black woman? Done. Maybe teh Onion is prescient?

Where in the hell is Peerless Leader, or teh Bionic Veep, or any members of his cabinet? I know Condi's there, but that's it. I thought he was ordained by spirits on high, just like St. Bachmann, St. Perry, St. Allan West, Ron Paul***. Good Lord, the dems will have Kerry, Gore, Clinton, Carter, Mondale, and such, and so on present, for better or worse. And I will say genuinely, and paraphrasing Dr. Thompson, Jimmy Carter is the last great human being to have held the presidency. Time will tell with Clinton or Obama, maybe Bush Sr., who actually seems human, for a conservative, albeit employing Lee Atwater. Zombie Reagan, Bush Dos, Nixon? Drinking in Hell with Atwater and Breitbart.

This is where I am severely annoyed. I want/need/desire a proper democrat in the office. Obama has not been dreadful, but he is and always has been a centrist. With our 'conservatives' having moved so far right that they have fallen off the edge of their flat earth, the 'center' today is uncomfortably nuts. Dammit.

*Make my Lego set seem kinda pathetic - dad?**
**Kidding, my parents were wonderful, they worked verrry hard to provide for us and raise us right, and we were never hurting. But a few thou a year for surviving? I'm atchally very glad I had my parents - George Romney was by all accounts a pretty good guy, but his kid is a damnable screwball.
***Whoops. That would be 'high spirits', aka Paultards

Dear Peckerneck (An Open Letter To, Well, A Peckerneck)

Driving this morning, saw a bumper sticker (I know better than to read bumper stickers on penis trucks*. So I read the bumper sticker. Derp.)

The bigger the GOVERNMENT

the smaller the citizen.

Ermf.

Dear Peckerneck,

Kiss my ass, you dumb inbred sonuvabitch motherfuckin' redneck.

The "GOVERNMENT", dickweed, is us. You goddamn coward. People with yer lil' rebel opinion lack the brains, motivation, or courage to take your own responsibility within a civil society. You just want to take advantage of it, you know, roads, anti-penis-truck-theft laws, and then bitch about paying for it, or bitch about other people, those without genitalia issues, being on the same roads as your precious masculinity replacement. Go home to your man-cave and Bud Light and 9mm dick and hide, and let the rest of us go about trying to maintain a country. Kthnxbai.

*Penis truck - Any combination of dually rear tires, roll bars, KC lights, deer cage, window cling of Calvin pissing on something, owned by a man with a small penis and inability to relate to living women who needs something to remind himself that he is ALPHA©®™!

paleo-update

On my little staycation where I will get no rest - doing my prep for the basement, it's officially on!

Last night was our first anniversary. One year of marriage with my dreamgirl. Happy Anniversary, Sweetie, I adore you, and I am so very lucky!

Next, I have to say RIP Neil Armstrong.

I was almost a year old when he walked on the surface of another celestial body. When I was little, like so many boys, I wanted to be an astronaut. So very much. I can't tell this without revealing a little bit of personal info, but my name is real nym is Mike, and I was convinced I was named after Michael Collins (yes, in retrospect, my six-year-old self knew nothing about the passage and one-way tendencies of the flow of time. Might this explain my Doctor fixation?). Neil Armstrong was a huge hero, Buzz Aldrin as much so, NASA was my future. Those ambitions slipped away, as they do, as real life continues, and I am very happy with my life now. For our honeymoon, last year (see previous paragraph), we went to Orlando, and to Kennedy, and purely by accident had the opportunity to see a launch, and then sat on the Causeway until they put out the fuse with 7 seconds left - dammit. Saw the Saturn 5 and took the tour of the Center. They had the actual set from Star Trek TOS on a tour and I got to sit in the Chair. And now, again, as an adult, I very badly want to see a launch live, but it will be a bit. This is a somewhat disjointed discourse, but the point is that Neil Armstrong was a hero and an influence, and the world was better with him in it, and his passing sucks.

Had to run errands this morning, Sweetie to work, Menards for storage bins (more...). Conversation with store employee at Menards:
...stuffstuffstuff...
paleo: "Yeah, so I didn't want to get this this morning, but I'm out running."
clerk: "Ummm..."
paleo: "Errands and stuff."
clerk: "Oh, I thought jogging, and I was wondering how'd you jog with 50 gallon storage bins."
paleo (pointing at 12 pack): "Ok. Look at me. I'm a 44 year old man wearing a Star Wars t-shirt. I don't jog. No pain, no pain."

Storage pod in place (and damn near filled), basement damn near empty (the last big thing is a cat castle, which I am going to have to partially disassemble to get into storage, to the, no doubt, vocal approbation of the kittehs.) Finish pack-out today, and start electrical planning and demo. I have paleo brother-in-law to help today and Thursday.
Poor bastard.
Lemme 'splain.
He thinks he is helping his big brother-in-law with a home project. Except, that this part of the project is what paleo does for a living, and paleo is r-r-r-e-e-e-a-a-l-l-l-y-y-y good at it. paleo thinks, "Oh good, I have a bitch*."
Again, poor bastard.

* I am a liberal. Socialist commie people-non-hater. I am a strong feminist. However, I am also a construction worker. Sue me.

Body FAIL

For those of you playing along at home, I had a big day planned yesterday, a great deal to do to get ready for work at the paleo homestead. Did some stuff in the morning, went to scope out a side job, and went to breakfast with Sweetie, B-I-L, Deedee (S-I-L) and Sarabear (Deedee's SO). Following breakfast, I had already told Sweetie that I was going to go to Urgent Care, had some swelling in my foot, and being diabetic I get nervous about amputations, blindness, neuropathy, penisi failurus, all that joy. Gotta be careful, but I could guess at the result and likely doctoral conversation - "Dude, you're a wreck, take advil and quit bothering us."

In the manner of a great major league pitcher, however, the doctor threw a change-up, caught me completely flat-footed. (See what I did there?)

I once had a DVT, and have been hypersensitive to the symptoms, as I understood them to be, ever since. I did not have those symptoms. He, after eliminating the conversation I imagined, sent my ass to the emergency room to check for happy clotiness. Fuck, I know this routine.

Go to emergency room, flash my junk at one and all (not deliberately), get smeared with something uncomfortably warm and gooey, get an ultrasound of leg, including the swollen painful part, wait 2 hours because there are actual people with emergencies in the emergency room, and then either:

a.) Get sent home with a dirty look and advil for wasting their time.
b.) Everyone loses their shit until I get IV'ed and admitted and I don't get to do anything at all for a couple weeks until blood is thin enough that I don't keel over and cause a lawsuit by my grieving widow and her healthy life insurance settlement.
I chose option c.
c.) Whatever else happened, no clot, but the skin is infected so antibiotics and can't do anything today and won't enjoy doing anything tomorrow and the next day.

So, watching Mythbusters (or as sweetie calls it, "You're stalking Kari again?"), catching up on important planning and paperwork. Over the weekend I did find one of my old stories when I fancied myself a gonzo journalist, I'll post that tonight.

Bored must have lunch. Ta.

Sun Is Up Must Work Damn

Couldn't sleep too well this morning so I've done a bit of surfing, and just gotta pimp The Geeky Hostess and:

My lil' Maisy-Daisy is looking at the squirrels and birds fighting at the bird feeder and making chirping sounds a cat shouldn't make. On the other hand, that means it's light out and I have to continue in the garage. Pics and remodel posting tonight!

The Romney-Ryan Economic Plan

Brought to you by:

we're white, we're rich, fuck you

h/t Erik

Harry Harrison, RIP

Just learned that Harry Harrison passed away. Dammit.

The Stainless Steel Rat was some clever damn writing, the crimes of Slippery Jim very well crafted, albeit with quite a bit of applied phlebotinum. Subversive in a way, very anti ray-gun, Jim DiGriz was sick at the thought of killing. The Stainless Steel Rat For President is a wonderful take on electioneering.

Slippery Jim DiGriz was a favorite of mine for several years, and the lovely, incredibly lethal Angelina a dream girl of mine. Poop.

Couple Little Things About The Zombie-Eyed Granny Starver

We've had half a week with Young Master Munster, Paul Ryan, the original ZOMBIE-EYED GRANNY STARVER.* And you know, he has quite the inspirational story. Were it not for the social security benefits he collected upon his father's passing away when he was 16, or the federal money bestowed upon Ryan Construction to build interstate highways and the runways at O'Hare airport, or the $1.4 M his wife inherited, he'd be selling genuine Rolex's on the bridge over the Rock River in Janesville, or dealing meth to the kids on their way to Parker High, and our elderly population would be in less danger of eating or becoming cat food. Kinda chokes me up. The 15% unemployment Janesville had at the end of the Bush administration, after Ryan worked so hard to bring it up from the 4% at the end of the Clinton Administration, could not have occurred without Ryan's constant fellating of Illinoyances living in Beloit while ignoring the loss of GM**, and President Obama's risky strategy of getting Janesville's current unemployment to 8.9% has threatened that record.***

The big story... Ryan has restored vigor to the RomRy campaign. Hunter, believer in the cult of P90X, blue eyes, square head, whatever. I'm 2 years older than him, broken. Unelectable, probably - I drink too much, hug trees, and believe in sexual practices illegal in most of the south, immoral in most of the known star systems, and impossible in most Newtonian physics.**** I don't want me anywheres near power - I'd immediately nuke from orbit any country with the effrontery to not have decent sauerkraut, because sauerkraut and big red button, stuff, much less this fetus.

Had to listen to a bit of Ed Schultz***** yesterday, I knew he would be having a great deal of fun with the Ryan pick. He had on Richard Viguerie (be warned, following this link has been known to cause the heartbreak of psoriasis), 'architect' of the modern conservative movement (if such a construction could be considered as architected; alternatively, architect in the sense that Charles Manson was a motivational speaker). He said, defending the Mormon/Munster ticket, (and I must paraphrase), that 'elections are not about the past, they are about the future.' Gotcha, Richy. 

So we can ignore the whole vulture capitalism/Bain thing, or the horsie writeoff, or the little thing about I-was-an-adult-mormon-bishop-when-we-debated-whether-or-not-black-folk-were-teh-devil-and-decided-that-hey-they're-not-soitsallgoodvoteforme widget. 

Windsock Willard will be approaching the presidency with new eyes, squeegeed clean.******

And, the whole Ryan "Cat food is too good for you grannies, so Imma take your Medicare too", "I got my social security survivors benefits that I didn't need because my family company built interstate highways and the O'Hare runway with icky, filthydirty federal money but I really deserved it, y'all don't, Ted Nugent rocks","GM Janesville? What's that?" biography? 

Whish, gone, doesn't matter, in the past. He has the openest mind in all of Randland.

Their bumpersticker? 

we're rich, we're white, fuck you

This is apropo of nothing, but I like it and gotta calm down.


* Holy dammit, Pierce, TBogg, and Edroso and his crew of merry mischief makers, have been gleefully shredding the Boy Wonder! Ignore my bits of drivel here and read those now.
Then read my little bits of drivel.
**I had cousins who had to move to Texas. TEXAS. And not the two good parts, either. Texas is not fit for humans, only frellin' Texans. Except Austin and Big Bend NP.
***Stats courtesy of the Wonderful Wizard of Google
****After you've read this, sweetheart, we'll talk. About a lot of things. About my friend Xglphyrm. And the 40x30 fishnet stockings. Please be open-minded. Like Mitt and Paul!
*****Yeah, even I agree he can be tough to listen to sometimes, but he is a good voice for labor and will kick the frothing sociopaths ('wingnuts' is so  inadequate nowadays) in the junk just for the larfs.
******Jezzus, if Bill Hicks were still alive, the lulz, ohhhh, the snark would be yummy. 

Vignette Of An After Dinner Cigar And Scotch*

Scene:
A Sunday evening, about 10pm. The sky is clear, temperature just right, dimly lit by porch light and one iPhone.

Setup:
After a late supper, lovingly crafted by Sweetie, Sweetie, B-I-L, and paleo have retreated to the porch for a brief moment of nothing, to have a drink and a cigar. While paleo was at work, Sweetie was shopping for fixtures for the Great Basement Mayhem and Remodel, and having taken pictures, was showing them to paleo for his opinion. The topic of the moment, toilets.

Sweetie:
Take a look at this, what do you think?

paleo:
I don't know much about toilets, I can look them up for quality but that's about it.

Sweetie:
Well, obviously, we want it in bone, or cream, I don't want white...

paleo: (snarkily)
Honey, c'mon, you know I had my heart set on lime green.

Sweetie: (more snarkily)
No. It clashes with poop.

B-I-L: (for the win)
Speak for yourself.

Reaction shot:
Sweetie, dragging on the cigar, coughs up her appendix. paleo blows alcohol through nose. B-I-L sits back and...awww, screw the bastard. That was well played.





*Technically, Diet Dew and Vodka. And Swisher Sweet Grape Cigarillos. Hey, don't judge me, I have a basement to remodel.

Capable Of Typing, Still Smiling

Verily vaguely outlined earlier, my B-I-L (need nickname, too much typing, bbbllppfft!) went to the Mighty Mighty BossToneS show at First Ave in Minneapolis on Saturday, and had a helluva good time. Since I haven't seen a club show in a bit, I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to mosh pit with my walker, and that it would be loud, and that everyone would want to go on my lawn. NOT TO WORRY.

I didn't go into the pit. I would have died.

It was very loud, but after my eardrums were probed, perforated, and punctured, say, 4 or 5 minutes, it was quite pleasant.

My lawn has been dead for two weeks. Oh, except weeds.

The first band was Bomb The Music Industry.

They have a ton of music at their pay-what-you-can website, and while I haven't downloaded anything yet, I have listened to quite a bit, and I like 'em, kinda raw, more punk than skate-punk/ska-punk. They had real good energy, but like a lot of down-ticket bands, the sound setup was not at all done for their benefit, and although you could make out the occasional chord and word, and like I said, online, I dig 'em, the show was rough.

The opening band, We Are The Union, from Detroit, jesus I LOVE that name. These are guys to watch out for - they are hitting First Ave again in November, timing sucks for me but I'd see them again, happily. Fun, fast, pissed, (much better sound doesn't hurt anything, either), met the lead guitar/singer after the show, I know it was after-show promotion shake-and-bake but he seemed really cool.

MMB headlined, band from my younger days, before I discovered the music of my age group, Montovanni, Zombie Karen Carpenter, John "Pimp-hand" Tesh.

*

Nothing else to be said. Fantastic. BLAST. Whilst deciding that I didn't want to spend the remainder of my life at the bottom of the pit, I did bounce around like a maniac for the better part of a long-ass time, singing along (hopefully on key, because eardrums), woot-ing, just awesome. 

I have to point out that all three drummers, all three bands - must have to eat 114,000 calories per day while on tour, but that's okay, because they get the chicks, and as Spinal Tap demonstrates, a drummer's life is on the edge, man.

A lot of great shows coming up, my S-I-L's S.O. is an Ani DiFranco fan and going to see her, Brian Jonestown Massacre, NoFX, Bob Mould, Henry Rollins, and I'm in no financial condition to see them, although I will have to find a way for NoFX, never seen them live and I heard they suck live. 

*I had video, before Blogger decided that it won't host anything of any size that doesn't have a fucking Vevo advertisement at the beginning. I digress.

Not...Twenty...One...Oww...

Imma post some pics, video, and story tomorrow, but briefly.

Mighty Mighty BossToneS, at First Avenue, with openers We Are The Union and Bomb The Music Industry.

Fucking. Awesome.

It's been way too long since I've seen a club show, but that was GREAT.

Tahnk you, paleo bro-in-law! Need ice, Advil, and minor ear surgery. 

See, I Told You I Was 21 Years Old

Life is going to quiet down by the end of this weekend, so there will be new schtuff!

Meantime, tonight, paleo bro-in-law and paleo are going to see Mighty Mighty BossToneS at 1st Ave. (cripes it's been a while since I've seen a club show, and although it's a band from my yoot, I am worried people will be looking at me and wondering "Who brought Gramps?" Well, my brother-in-law, that's who, and fuck you, get off my lawn.)

There is big national news today. Vice President Zombie Eyed Granny Starver? Big national news type reporter Charles P. Pierce does a thorough dismantling of Congressman Munster, please read!

Next coupla posts, I'll be talking about 

Some politics:

-The Wisconsin shooting and Governor Hypocrite McRatfingerer
-Chick-fil-a and the complete bullshit, typical libertarian drivel, that this was about 'free speech' and not 'ZOMG MY MASCULINITY IS THREATENED but good lord, that guy is yummy OH FUCK QUEERS HEEEELLLPP!'

A potential reality TV Show:

-paleo vs. his basement

Every King Deserves A Throne

Life is nuts. We have started purchasing for our basement project - we can get some real savings with the local hardware-orama having an 11% off sale, and so we are running a shuttle bus for materials, and I have site acceptance testing this week for a big project, guaranteed to result in success, a desk job, and hot and cold running oral sex; or, an exit interview.

Wish me luck.

We did find the perfect accesory for our new bathroom.


Gotta start lobbying my sweetheart. This is gonna take joolery, flattery, and no more hot-and-cold-running-oral-sex jokes. Also, plotting and dessert wines.

I mean, just look at it. Perfection. Coffee cup/beer can holder, the ideal in conservation of effort. Same with the pull chain flush valve, lending, as well, the joie de vivre called for during one's morning ablutions; not to be forgotten, the authenticity of the original plumbing miracle, the drain trap, eliminating odors whilst providing the required pressure equalization needed to flush one's cares away. I suspect it does not have a wi-fi repeater, but that would be too much perfection and the universe would fail, to be replaced with something even more inexplicable.*

I'll post what I can over the next week, FSM knows the world is full of screwballs who require hugs and/or extreme mockery, I tend to lean more towards mockery, and in worst cases a beating about the head and neck. I'm a man with a mission; the proud possessor of a drinking horn and a mild messianic complex. Looken sie das out, babies.

*Dr. Douglas Adams.