Sunday, July 19, 2015

The Donald Inadvertantly (Because Trump, D'uh) Makes A Point

In the wisest electoral move the Democratic Party has made in years, running Donald Trump for the presidency as a Republican, he has played his role to the hilt, becoming the GPS and the accelerator for the republican clown car!

Actually, that is too simplistic, and gives the Democratic leadership far too much credit for cunning...

Certainly, though, Trump has become, probably already was, the raging cockroach in the brain of the average republican:

  • seeking to kill anything that reeks of thinking; 
  • wanting to smash anyone who dares look aside from the goals of theocracy, subjugation of anyone failing the paper bag or external genitalia test, and submission to oligarchy;
  • fear, so much fear. Buy stock in Depends for the first republican debate.

Once again, Trump opened his mouth, and the news and blogs have exploded. (Note - this is a blog post about this. Shoot me.) He stated that he preferred his heroes be uncaptured soldiers, in response to McCain complaining that Trump brought out 'the crazies' at an event in Phoenix.

This needs to be unpacked a bit, because Trump came close to an actual point. We need not even point out that Trump had almost as many deferments as Cheney, and served as much time in the military as Limbaugh.

In brief, John McCain parlayed his family name into becoming a truly horrible airman and officer, graduating near the bottom of his class, destroying two of his aircraft. He was shot down and taken prisoner in Hanoi, and the official record states that he behaved honorably as a POW. He gets marks for that. Actual heroism. Good job, and I mean that.

Returning from the military, crippled, with his wife similarly crippled due to a car accident, he saw an opportunity to get rich and politically connected by marrying his wealthy mistress. By rolling on his comrades, he squealed his way out of the Keating 5 scandal.  

He introduced Sarah Palin, Yukon Methnelius, the Quitta From Wasilla, teh SnowMachine Secessionist's Spouse, to the American Body Politic.

Lets's be honest. He was a hero for 5 years, and republican filth for every other day since.

So now, the passengers in the republican clown car, unable to believably lie and say that Trumpykin's statements about undocumented immigrants were crap, but still desperate to drive Trumples out of the race, have latched onto this kerfuffle to claim that 'no one who has ever worn the uniform can be criticized, ever, and stuff!'

First of all, jackholes, tell it to John Kerry, Max Cleland, and Bowe Bergdahl. You pathetic cowards. Where did you serve, Becky, Rushbo, Michael Wiener? Coultergeist, were you agitating to be allowed to try SEAL training when you served?

Wanna know who else is a hero?

Me. I've helped build the factories that make the weapons the soldiers use.
Everyone working at those factories is a hero.
Everyone paying the taxes that pay for the military, their munitions and supply, is a hero, including the immigrant, working for the yard crew, maybe a DREAMer, at the campus where I work.

You know who is not a hero?

Mittens and Chucky and Davy, who for all their money pay an effective tax rate of not.
Dick Cheney, who used the military to enrich his paymasters at Halliburton.
Becky, teh Coultergeist, et al, who, when McCain, playing at being a moderate and running for the republican nomination in 2000, help spread the rumor in South Carolina (yeah, that flag is a-l-l-l-l-l about heritage, not hate) that "McCain has a colored n***erbaby out of misceginacisism!!1!eleventy!!" (his adopted daughter Bridget).

I'm not in favor of soldier worship. They are people, some good, some bad, doing things I don't want to do. And sometimes they give their lives in defense of our country, and FSM touch them with His Noodly Goodness. And they need to be taken care of, they've earned it. And sometimes they need to be smacked down and jailed (General Jerry Boykin, you need a long time in a cooler, you psychopath.) People. Braver than I, yes. And they don't need to be used as chess pieces by neocon swine. But they are not doing this alone. It's most of us, together.

Most of us, except for the peckernecks who use them as cannon fodder and propaganda fodder. Fuck them.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Behind the Politics – Scott Walker

In 1966, a young preacher, Llewellyn Wwallker, fresh from the Welsh consonant mines, came home to his property, Patricia, with a gleam in his eye. With the lights down, spinning a Sing Along With Mitch LP (Go Tell It On The Mountain b/w She’ll Be Coming ‘Round The Mountain And Confessing Her Sin Later Even Tho’ She Really Rather Enjoyed It), a bit of fumbling, a cry of “Holy Hannah, that’s not it, owwww-w-w-w-w!”, followed by the shameful, lonely shower, Scott Walker was invited to our earth.

He entered the world in 1967, a couple days early, perhaps, his eyes may have needed another 36 hours or so. In retrospect, due to that day in April when Pat put dinner on the table at 5:32 instead of the clearly defined 5:30? Sin defines us all.

From a young age, he showed a burning desire to enter the world of politics. At the age of three, he ran for King Of My Playroom, and his inexperience proved detrimental; he was defeated handily by his Garbage Pail Kids cards. He vowed to not repeat the mistakes of his first campaign, and at a recall election he called 15 minutes later, having promised teddy and himself marshmallow cream, accusing the Operation game of socialized medicine, and with the Kids in absentia having recused themselves in a statement from the potty, he eked out a victory over Surfer Ken.

Scott became an Eagle Scout in record time, earning 37 merit badges in one ceremony by diligently threatening the scoutmaster with accusations of homosexuality. He was chosen to go to Washington for Boy’s Nation, where one of his eyes was convinced that the animatronic Reagan winked at him. Starbursts! His die was cast; follow in the shuffling footsteps of the first Non-Conscious American president, and accumulate a plastercaster collection with every industrialist he came across.

Accompanied by his attorney, and with claimed possession of a ‘secured lockbox of accumulated photographs and affidavits’, he entered the typically more discriminating Marquette University. After three and a half years, they were able to divest themselves of him, for reasons unreleased, although rumors of electoral misconduct were widely assumed to be “No shit, he’s a dick.” His given reason was a job offer with the American Red Cross. He was well known among his colleagues; John Doe, an investigator, recalled him “often staring blankly at his Highlights magazine, deep in thought, muttering about bootstraps and soylent something. We called him EH, short for ‘eldritch horror’, he got a big kick out of it. Although, now, looking back I’m not sure he ever quite understood that, or really anything. Anyhow, you couldn’t get away with anything with the guy, it was like he had an eye on the side of his head. Good times, after he left.”

In the early 90’s, Wee Wiw’ Scott ran for the Wisconsin Assembly, losing to Gwen Moore, who, interestingly, would also advance into national office long before Walker ever had a miniscule shot. Walker, showing the tenacity of his hero, Reagan, who put on a great show of not remembering the Iran-Contra fiasco while not being able to remember the Iran-Contra fiasco, moved to the tony district of Wauwautosa, WI, home of many young men nicknamed ‘The Third’, bought a pallet of Plaster of Paris and two crates of Burt’s Bees Balm, and won.

In the Assembly, he was a Republican populist, working against women (’s rights to control their own bodies), unions (right to work), and minorities (Voter ID). Known as ‘The Remora’, he attached the sucker on his head to the excretory orifice of the American Legislative Exchange Council shark, gleefully introducing ALEC-written bills benefitting private prison corporations.

At some point, Scottie’s heart turned to thoughts of sex involving other beings, and one day, behind the cotton-candy stand at Wauwautosa Entitled Twat Days, all of his fantasies came true. Unfortunately, society looks down on homopestuality

and he had to end it with Ben. He then found Tonette, whom he slowly came to not loathe, and in a small ceremony, with LLeeEWElyyn holding a shotgun as incentive, he married her and bred. However, his heart had been hardened. By virtue of the fact that he could not look anyone in the eyes, he was able to disguise his disgust with the company of his own species. He determined that if he had to suffer though a human-human heteronormative marriage, no one else of a mind to be what they are should ever be happy. Tonette had to make some concessions; their wedding was on the anniversary of the birthday of the Famous Animatronic President Reagan, along with the birth of their sons and his annual performance of his husbandly duties, with him under a sheet with a strategically punched hole.

Eventually, the Assembly was too small a stage for Scott to tread upon. Running against cunning Democratic Party apparachik Tom Barrett, who felt the best way to win over the state was to run to the right of the Teabirchertarian Walker, Scott dug in his heels, lied like an ungrammatical rug, played at being a moderate and carried the state. All of his unstated (to the general populace of Wisconsin) promises were within his hands. Public Service Unions – scottsmash! Gogebic Taconite – bring in your private army! Chucky and Davey and Grover – get over here and drop 'em, daddy needs some mangravy!

A sizable percentage of Wisconsin voters signed a recall petition for Scooter, but Scott stood tall. With a handpicked Waukesha county clerk, and $30M in campaign funds, fully $536 of it coming from Wisconsin residents, he ran again against the cunning Democratic Party apparachik Tom Barrett, who felt the best way to win the state was to not purchase his own county clerks. Scottissue won again.

Now drunk with power, and with an almost unaccountable amount of rodent estrous to quell his nearly insatiable needs and hide his true calling from the public, he put in his bid to destroy education in Wisconsin, proposing freezing spending on public schools and expanding the state's school voucher program. He called for vaginal wanding and the end of Planned Parenthood, proving his devotion to women keeping in their place. Despite his surreptitious fellating of rodents, industrialists, and the corpse of The Great Rotted Reagan, now kept in his sunroom, he kept the promise made to himself when he had to marry within his species and vowed to pass a law requiring the LGBTQ population of Wisconsin be used for medical experimentation, or as kindling if they begged appropriately. Wisconsin, being on an extended bender, sobered up in later November to find Governor Turdwaffle retaining his seat.

In 2015, he debated running for president, despite having neither a degree nor binocular vision. In part two of 'Behind The Politics - Scott Walker', to be released after the first Fox debate, we will explore the failure of his campaign and unfortunate crippling injury due to confusion in his autonomic nervous system generated by attempting to blink both eyes, tripping off of the end of the stage and failing into the lap of Sarah Palin, who broke both of his hips searching for his wallet.

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Future President Allen West Presents His Future Chief Of Stuff: An Open Letter

From Raw Story,
Michelle Hickford, former press secretary and current editor-in-chief for former Republican congressman Allen B. West took to West’s website on Wednesday with a missive that claims if the Confederate flag and the Charleston shooting are related, so is the murder in San Francisco of Kathryn Steinle last week by an undocumented man and all undocumented immigrants.
Let's see... Blah, blah, cornfuckingfederate flag, blah, brown, blah, what in the hell?
"We must secure our borders, however that must be done. With walls. With the National Guard. With electro-magnetic barriers. With whatever. And we must deport those who are here illegally.
If we’re going to get hysterical about a piece of fabric, we surely must get hysterical about tens of thousands of people committing actual violent crimes."
K, mostly vaguely palatable palaver with a provably poor premise, ignorable ignorance by an ignorant ignoramus, but
With electro-magnetic barriers.

I gotta bite, Imma sparky.

Dear Dumb Lady.

Does immigrant physiology typically host a significantly higher amount of ferrous minerals, such that they would stick to your electromagnetic barrier? Or do you hope that the crystalline structure of aforesaid ferrous materials is precisely aligned, and the immigrant approaches the fence at a precise angle, thus being repelled a little bit 60 times a second?

You do know that even a really damn strong electromagnet, that can lift tons, say in a metal scrap yard, still only works its magic at a distance of approximately 18 inches with materials that have a much higher ferrous content than the aforesaid illegal, who, I would suspect, would display a serious decrease in endurance and flexibility were that the case. Ability to take melee damage might increase however. We're getting off track.

Who, pray tell, is paying the electrical bill? 800 miles of fence may consume a handful of watts. What if they're wearing shorts?


But, please enlighten me, boddhisattva.


Friday, July 3, 2015

My Last Politics Post Was Uncomfortably Polite, So...

Few items from teh morning site review.

In the Are You Fucking Kidding Me File, Raw Story brings us the news of the plea deal rejection, by a Federal judge, in the case of Robert Rankin Doggart, a Tennessean (simply shocked, I tells ya) who actively plotted to kill, en masse, Muslims in the community of Hancock, New York. 

You know, terrorism. 

(I don't get it either, he's white, I don't understand how anyone could insinuate such a thing, white terrorists. Guffaws abound).

Overt acts included recruiting other plotters on social media, collection of weapons and explosives, and travel to SC to recruit militia members (by the way, did this twisted bugfucker meet any of the lovely collection of irradiated and inbred chromosomal material travelling in the same circle as the Charleston WHITE FUCKING TERRORIST?) Also, the noble Mr. Doggart pled guilty. A plea arrangement was struck, everything seemed to be on track for his modern 'martyrdom' (you know, where you go on Fox, whine to Steve Douchebro about how your xtian convictions were violated while Kilmeade and Fox Blonde Bimbo #2 fight over who gets to swallow your cock to the appendix).

Then the Federal judge decided that no one had really proven that this American Sniper wannabee was an actual threat, try again prosecutors. (Oddly, apparently the judge is a black man appointed by Bill Clinton. Unexpected, not the usual republican suffering from brown-skin blood-lust. Maybe a Dennis Miller thing, 'I used to be a democrat until 9/11 made me outraged by Benghaziiiiii"?)

Human Rights Watch has done the work of the angels on this, showing that a helluva lot of domestic Islamic terrorism cases, crowed about by the FBI as proof that J. Edgar Hoover never had an affair with Lindsey Graham they is the man, were crap, entrapment, plots driven and provisioned by the very same FBI or paid informants, that most of these dudes were putzes who couldn't find the wrong end of an AK-47, much less slaughter Camp LeJuene with four guys. Yet most of those cats are in prison for long-ass times.

You've heard of Yasser Hamdi (Jose Padilla)? There's no difference between the two cases, and not only did Hamdi end up being tortured and driven mad by the Bush administration, but his case was used by the criminal filth using that goddamn dry-drunk puppet 'president' with an unusual IQ, 4, to create case law for the 'enemy combatant' and torture. John 'Fucking Mengele was a piker' Yoo and so on.

But Pale Guy's intent and capabilities (the real weapons, acquired by Yon Lord Of Incest; and real travel, initiated by the guy who most Tennesseans think is probably a little too liberal for their tastes; as opposed to, oh, I don't know, say, FBI-created fake cellphone bombs and all the Little Debbies they could eat while talking about how many palaces and wives they get if the three of them overthrow the Great Satan) are unclear. Sounds familiarrrrrr - WAIT! GODDAMMIT! The dude who killed 9 people for the stated purpose of starting a race war who's intentions, according to Fox News, are unaccountably muddy! 


News Item The Beta, from WaPoop

Rand Paul Blows Dog Whistle So Hard His Hair Ran And Hid. Let's be intellectually honest. Even Rand Paul, fake libertwatian, is not so stupid (close, maybe) as to meet alone with Cliven Bundy for 45 minutes. Cliven Bundy, known coward, traitor, and thief, may well have a touch of the untruth about him as well. 

This does not change the fact that the Nevada event did take place, with Lil'Clivey in attendance. 

This does not change the fact that Paul called for the return of federal land to the states, who, I can say with reasonable certainty, will sell that shit off by noon to cover the gaping budget holes in state's budgets that have existed since Ronald Reagan, now being the recipient of watersports games in hell with Hitler and Falwell, inspired young republicans everywhere to shut up and blow, with requisite happy ending, the nearest rich guy. Also, can you say 'no competitive bidding'?

This does not change his tweet

equating being a rich fucking republican with an iconic, 732 term congressman father, with any sort of persecution.

This does not change the fact that this needle-dicked stumphumper, with his degree from Joe's Gyro Creations And Opthamology and certification by the Paul Institute for Eye-Doctorining, has the seeds to entitle his damn self 'Dr. Rand Paul' on Twerker.

News Item The Last

NASCAR, to change your audience, you will have to lose 75% of your entire current audience, and then find people who can watch 4 hours of turning. Gooden sie das luck. Again, from Raw Story
On the eve of a big holiday race weekend in Daytona Beach, David Childress was among those who ignored the call and packed a t-shirt festooned with the Civil War-era flag for his trip to the world-famous Florida racetrack. 
“I don’t think you’re supposed to cherish it, but don’t forget it,” said Childress, 61, from Mississippi, who said he owns six Confederate flags.
You're cherishing it, O' Copenhagen Cowboy. Seriously. I'm an American. You know, the guys who whipped your useless racist asses, oh, about 150 years ago this year. I own one American flag, for particular occasions (say, tomorrow), and I'm an America fanboi. ('Specially the part where a bunch of traitorous inbreds got their still beating hearts handed to them, about a sesquicentennial ago or so?) If you own Six Flags Over No Fucking Country that represent a losing, bigot, treasonous cause, you're cherishing it. Gimme your address, I'll send you a box of KY.
“You ain’t going to tell them boys they’re not going to fly their flags ‘cause they’re Alabama rednecks,” said Childress’ friend Debbie Dionne, 57, a cook from Pascagoula, Mississippi.
 Ma'am, you're so-o-o-o-o close. Let's try this:
"Because they are Alabama rednecks, they fly their decorative toilet paper (because, you know, it doesn't represent any actual sovereign entity but does symbolize shit.)," said paleo, internet polemicist and short order cook mumble years ago.
General Sherman, why did you go about your job so halfheartedly?


Wednesday, July 1, 2015

These Are Considered Two Of The Serious Candidates...

...for the Republican nomination.

From Right Wing Watch:
Ben Carson, retired neurosurgeon, political rookie (and Jesus H Pollyanna Christ wearing a sundress, does it show), and human cup of Sleepy-Time tea, suggested Congress get 'creative' in ending the scourge of ickily fabulous gay weddings, and then said

Carson added that if he were to become president, he “would certainly get involved” in undoing the marriage decision because although he wants to “respect everybody and let everybody do what they want to do,” if “everybody gets the right to change things for their group” that will lead to “chaos.”
Benny, that's called democracy. The marketplace of ideas, ideally leading to common solutions that the populace as a whole can accept. The principles being:
  • "Hey, as long as I don't poop on your porch, mind your own damn business."  
  • "Hey, we both need roads and firefighters, and neither of us can afford to provide civil structures alone. So let's work together for the common good."
These principles are not opposed. 

Live your life, enjoy your life, and don't muck about in anyone else's living and enjoying. However, civilisation is impossible without a commons, things that cannot be done by the individual. Roads, defense, schools, courts. No one person builds a hospital, or becomes a neurosurgeon without receiving a lot of help along the way. And no one gets anywhere without the aforementioned marketplace of ideas. Civilisation is impossible if you have masses of unthinking automatons. You end up with cultural inbreeding, no ideas, no progress. Stagnation.

Your intent, your chaos-free society, is North Korea with a population of 300 million. Congratulations - you just peeled open the curtain hiding the fact that the Republican "'Merkin ideal of the rugged individualist" is bollocks. (Ignoring the fact that John Wayne was an actor, Cliven Bundy is a racist, and the Marlboro Man died of body cancer.) You guys don't want cowboys, you want serfs and a ruling class.

Now, Lindsey Graham.

As called out by the Bob and Chez Show, and sourced for this post by Tiger Beat On The Potomac (read Charlie Pierce, please), Mr. Graham, in the insufferable political tradition known as the autobiohagiography, explains his unmarried status, saying that the right time and the right women did not ever coincide, ignoring the fact that Henry Kissinger ever/still gets laid.

The ex-girlfriend's quote I expect to see in tomorrow's TBOTP?
"He was really into pegging. I didn't understand, but the lisp was so sexy."
Mr. Graham, any senator can get bonked hourly if they so choose. Power is not an aphrodisiac, but power is one driving motive. You are not a raging hetero, you're simply not. Quite seriously, if you were to come out as asexual or gay, I'd give you a modicum of respect for living your life honestly. Still wouldn't vote for you because you're a goddamn lunatic, but I'd shake your hand. 

Eh. My two cents on two peckernecks.