Monday, January 25, 2016

Open Letter To A Future Benny Hind Voter

Dear HyperChristian Dispensationalist Whack-A-Mole Game,

I was very appreciative of your bumper sticker declaring that "In Case Of Rapture, This Car Will Be Unoccupied". Very retro, sir, I had not seen that adhesive manifesto in quite some time.

In case of your rapture, I'm taking your stuff. I might get a buck two-fifty for the plastic-wrapped paisley couch. You might still have iron cook pans, which I'm rather fond of. The lime-green refrigerator, with the freezer inside the door? Keg holder.

Your Michael W. Smith CDs and Kirk Cameron Blue-ray Edition DVD collection? Sun-catchers and squirrel torturers.

Thanks in advance!

Love, paleo

Creflo Dollar/Benny Hind 2016! Feel The Nuts!

Sunday, January 24, 2016

I Am Ewmer J. Twump, Miwwionaire. I Own A Mansion And A Yacht

And a permanent subscription, the Gold Premium Rutabaga level, to Ukrainian Models Seeking Green Cards Monthly. This only because as badly as he wants to bang his own daughter, she's getting a little long in the tooth for him.

So. Lil' Donny picked up an endorsement:

He was thrilled:

The crowd? Rapt adoration:

Now, to be clear, Sarah Wrinkled and Dumb was not making an 'endorsement'. Nor was she covering up for her kid; let's go with the assumption that this freakout was an effect of PTSD, in which case she once again demonstrates that she sees them as props, as tools, in her grift, to where she took an event, Track's going full Shining, and instead of, you know, helping her kid, she uses him in a wildly stupid stump speech. She was acting the debutante at her own little cornfed cotillion . She waited until one member of the clown car seemed to be on track and proceeded to try to hobo her way onto the train, trying to be relevant again.To an extent, it worked - eg., I'm writing this.

There are some who claim the Republican establishment is afraid of the electoral repercussions of candidate Trump, that he will have, for lack of a better term, anti-coattails. People will vote against their local Republican candidate because Trump leads the ticket. Clearly Trump doesn't believe that; he was so pleased to have Meth Jem and the Hallucinations come out for him that he made it an event and was there his own self.

I actually agree with the Badly Wigged One.

To start with, let's be real - Americans suck at voting. America sucks at voter education. While certainly both parties jockey for advantage and have neither interest nor need for fairness, the US Media and the post-Citizens United SuperPacs operate completely without regulation, allowing the creation of a, dare I say it, Trump-Palin ticket. I think I just died a little inside, incidentally, or at least vomited.

Continuing, the only real mainstream Republican resistance to Trumpy might be the evangelical power brokers, who are certainly aware that he does not share a thing in common with them; but enough promises to the lead JesusBeaters will quell that resistance, as Frankie Graham, Jerry Falwell Jr., Ralphie Reed et alia genuinely don't give a damn about anything the supposed Rabbi Yeshua ben-Yusef may have said. Add in that evangelical voters are among the absolute dumbest American voters, and will fall in line for anyone claiming either a bible or a collection of Hitler speeches by his bedside.

Also, none of the Serious Candidates in the Republican clown car were ever going to pull independents or any share of the minority vote. I've said it before, and don't mind saying again, that although Lindsey Graham is a goddamn lunatic in regards to foreign policy, and so completely unacceptable, in my mind, as president, his domestic policies were far less dreadful than any of the others in the Dolt Decathlon. And so, although he would put up some troubling numbers in the general election, he was NEVER EVER EVER going to win a single primary. And none of the remaining gang of dipshits, barring another Democratic Party circular firing squad (think 2004, and ending up with John Kerry, who, for all his positives, made a poor candidate especially in the transition to the modern media age), has enough white Metamucil addicts to threaten much in the general. But they are not bothered so much by that: they have ALL the white Metamucil addicts. Little voter suppression here and there and the damn Republicans get to 2020, and another redistricting year, and another gerrymander.

So, paleo, what's going to happen?

Shit, I don't know, it's still a week before the Iowa caucus, and the Iowa caucus is no longer, in fact, really never was, the bellwether it claims to be. The World's Largest Ted Nugent Groupie? The Frothy Mixture? Wevs. A lot can happen between now and November.

How about, "paleo, what are you confident about?"

  • I feel safe saying that the oxygen-tank-and-racism contingent will turn out, maybe slowly but in number, for the Republican candidate, whosoever they may be. Unless it's noted Egyptologist and street knife fighter (thanks MPS!) Bennie 'Slice' Carson, they like him, but there's something, ummm, off about him, not sure what. 
  • I worry that the largely Millenials base supporting Sen. Sanders will not vote if Secretary Clinton is the nominee. Circular firing squad, goddammit - I love Senator Sanders, and support him in the primary, but if Sec'y Clinton takes the nom, this is realpolitik, and this election is pretty damned important. Mrs. Clinton is superior to anyone the Republican monsters put up.
  • I disagree that 'Trump cannot be bought off'; of course he can, and the longer he holds out, the higher the price he fetches from those who want Rubio. It's a question of how long he wants to play the con, or if he fools himself into thinking he can be president. Not in terms of getting elected, mind you, anything can happen right now; but in terms of 'Do I really want to be president? It's a lot of work, and an awful lot of visibility to get away with incest even if I lock up 19 votes and counting in Arkansas, and those poor future former Mrs. Trumpanovas without a wig to keep warm..." 
  • And, will the Republican mainstream attempt to broker their own convention to prevent Trumpy from taking the nomination? It would be suicidal for 2016, but it's quite possible that their political calculus makes it smart for 2018 and 2020, not trying to run with that goddamn lunatic leading the party or even the nation.
I guess, then, pop some popcorn. Or, dunno, get activated. Get energized. Vote. Fucking participate. The Constitution is strong and will survive. The Earth is strong and will definitely survive.

We, living right now, may not. Certainly not in our current paradigm.

I like food. I like bourbon. I love my dog. Fish fear me. I'm very fond of seeing my wife naked. 

I choose survival, thanks.


Mr. The Bald Bastard pointed out some inelegant phraseologism in here.

Nor was she covering up for her kid; let's go with the assumption that this freakout was an effect of PTSD, in which case she once again demonstrates that she sees them as props, as tools, in her grift, to where she took an event, Track's going full Shining, and instead of, you know, helping her kid, she uses him in a wildly stupid stump speech.

To be clear, I do no not think she was anywhere close to any vector that may have come in proximity to the hypotenuse of a point.

It is common knowledge that Mr. Palin was, due to a rapidly evolving juvenile record, given the choice of jail or the military. Given that at the time his mother was growing in prominence in Alaskan electoral politics, while this sort of judgement is admittedly unusual in modern times, I suspect the judge decided to play CYA.

It is less well-known that Track Palin was apparently put in a quasi-champagne-unit in the Iraqi Green Zone, as a chauffeur. It is bandied about that while he was not discharged with cause, no one minded seeing his ass flying west.

I don't believe for a minute this is PTSD, I was positing that playing this scenario at Sarah's declared face value makes her look even worse than she does typically. She also seems to miss that Mr. Palin went to a war started by President Cokie McFootiePajamas aka Drooly McGinPants while the moron was still in office.

And stuff.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Honestly, I Was Much More Affected By Lemmy And Bowie

This is going to be an oddly disjointed post. Sorry. Just thinking on my fingers, not actually certain what I'm reaching for, fairly certain I don't actually have a point. (Usually the music blogging is a Zombie/Bastard/Beer Snob/Questionable Content thingy.)

I wrote a post about Lemmy. At the time I struck out in my own individual musical direction, primarily 80's proto-thrash and prog-metal, Motorhead and Hawkwind were in my wheelhouse. Stuck with him for a long damn time. I suspect sections of heaven are burning, littered with angels thoroughly exhausted from right rogerings.

I didn't blog about Bowie largely because I had paid less attention to him for some time, but there is no doubt his early 70's output was amazing (and as others have said, who in hell expected Iggy to be the one living...). I picked him up in college - not going to claim that Eau Claire, WI was necessarily hip, but proximity to the Twin Cities was an improvement upon La Crosse (sells out Kenny Rogers four La Crosse Center Grand Opening shows in 3 hours this is one of 17 reasons why I have NO fucking nostalgia for home) WI. See you later, Thin White Ziggy.

Now, Glenn Frey. This is different, though. I dislike the Eagles, and although his solo output was certainly alright, it wasn't mesmerizing. Hell, I don't necessarily hate the Eagles country rock stuff, it was alright. But why do I react like that, when, to a lot of people in an range of ages, the Eagles are still huge, and I am very wary of being the sort of douchebag who hates the Eagles because other douchebags hate the Eagles. To me, the famous scene in The Big Lebowski got it close, just exasperation, fed up with them. Rephrase that as "Not the Eagles again, man". In the Twin Cities they remain a monstrous draw, due in large part to two classic rock stations, one that has the Eagles on heavy rotation, the other, KQ92, (home of the Grand Dragon and the White Sheet Bunch Morning Crew) promising and over-delivering the Eagles every five minutes on the minute.

When I was 12, La Crosse got a 'classic rock' station. Up to that time, there was country, old country, a talk radio station that had ChickenMan and a daily comment by the station's owner, and top forty. Yes, top 40 music in 1980 would have made an excellent soundtrack to steering an asteroid into the planet. And 1981. 1982. '83 to 2015 inclusive, you're getting me off track. 'Classic Rock' was different, and guitar-based (kind of a constant for me, I like's me some shredding).  I loved it, it was different, at 12 years old "Bang On A Drum" by Todd Rundgren was turn it up time. And they played the Eagles. "Hotel California". "Life In The Fast Lane". Rinse. Repeat. Loved it.

And I've now heard it. Every tune. Repeatedly. The "New Kid In Town" is now an elderly man sitting on the bench yelling at kids to get off the park.

Let's be clear.

The Eagles made good music. Professionally written. Professionally produced. F follows C♭ after the appropriate pause. At some point, the Eagles lost art and were making a calculated product. Nothing wrong with that. Billy Corgan clearly had pretensions to out-Rostokovich Rostokovich, but still did his damnedest to sell a gazillion records. (And fucking "Cherub Rock" kills, fuck anyone who disagrees.)

Hell, I don't know. Rest in peace, Mr. Frey. You did stuff to take pride in, and that's not nothing. I just heard you riding your own coattails for faaaaarrr too long, and I'm not too concerned at missing the Eagles on one of their final tour reunions.

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Ok, You Bastards, Practice Starts Tomorrow

In response to correspondence with teh Zombie, regarding the end of the football season.

Yes, end of the football season. I were born and raised in Wisconsin, and despite my growing hatred of the NFL Inc. and existing blind rage at the fact that the NCAA is allowed to exist without hard-wired collars reminding them when they are being jackasses, although the electricity bills may bankrupt the nation. Where was I? Dangling clauses, apparently.

Oh, yes, so, I need the Pack and the Badgers to do well. But, once their seasons are over, I no longer give a shit about their respective leagues. I don't know or care who won the college football championship, and I won't see another NFL game. Even the Super Bowl. 

"Ohhh, but paleo, teh commercials!" 
a.) Like I have money. 
2.) Who gives a great goddammit.

So, I had to work during the Packers-Cardinals game, and only saw, live, the Jeff Janis hail mary TD reception, and then Larry Fitzgerald Jr. making Dom Capers look like he was auditioning for Dumbest and Dumbester.

I saw McCarthy yesterday tell Eddie Lacy to get the hell back in shape. 
As an aside (I know, me?), the comments on that SBNation post included one to the extent of "Lacy may be fat but I bet he could make a 27 yard field goal", which I, of course, found quite humorly, while at the same time thinking any MN fan who blames that loss on Blair Walsh is a jackass, the rest of the Queens put him in that position by shitting the bed in the 4th quarter... 
The Packers so need Jordy Nelson (WR) back on the field, and also need a complementary wide out. Randall Cobb (WR, SR, occasional RB) is good, very good, in the slot, but I'm not impressed with him outside. David Bakhtiari (Sieve, Penalty Machine, theoretically an Offensive Lineman. Got the 'offensive' part right.) needs to be sent along with Capers to hell.

Imma not primal scream, but we have work to do.

At the same time, Bob (AKA 'Lips' to Roger 'How Can I Help You, Mr. Kraft' Goodell, Jerry Jones, Dan Snyder, et al.) Costas needs to be buried under Capers and Bakhtiari - one cannot help but feel that sports broadcasters, presumably at the behest of teams with owners, want GB to fail as a franchise because an ostensibly publicly-owned entity that will be staying in place makes slapnuts like Szigymund Wilf and Stan Kroenke look like the criminally greedy grubfuckers they are. 

And Costas is an admitted ewok-fondler. Probably.


Post Script: I have friends, and they're not well.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Saving 'Murica With The MegaChurch Based Economy

Once upon a time, I was a travelling union electrician.

I tended to go west to work. My preference, as I was driving like a bat loosed from Satan's grip to Siblingbunghole, Idaho, with a case of Mountain Dew, a roll of Kodiak, and a dwindling hope of picking up the call at the union hall for power plant maintenance but an expectation of putting in childproof AFCI-rated receptacles at the local Golden Corral, was to drive through mountains.

Although I do not recall the instance, at some point I must have signed the books in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Colorado Springs has been, and may still be,
home to the greatest concentration of fundamentalist Christian activist groups in American history (Jeff Sharlet, Harpers, Revealer)
including New Life, former home of Ted Haggard (I will not embed that video. I will not muddy up my own house. It's from Jesus Camp if you want an idea before clicking.) before he discovered the Joy of Meth (now on; and home to the United States Air Force Academy, which has had, for years, a very prejudicial attitude towards any non-Jesus-Beater daring to serve their country upside down at Mach 2.25. Colorado Springs has also had, due to the presence of the aforementioned Atavisticus Jesusi Beaterodocus, a turbo-fucked local economy.

Because I signed the books there, I get email pertinent to Colorado Springs. For example, I get the 'newsletter' and 'brother can you spare a coupla thousand dimes" from this Tea Party pile of pig placenta

Because of his first name and general demeanor, he reminds me of President Bartlett's son-in-law (West Wing). Just a completely pliable dunce, eager to do the bidding of his keepers, will swallow if necessary.

Actually, pig placentas serve a purpose - they are involved in the production of ham. I may have to rethink that analogy.

Now, I also get job offers from 'the Springs', as the hip youth say. What is available in the job creation dynamic Galtian Gulch in fundie country?

Hmm. My smack is gobbed. There seems to be a trend, perhaps, nay, a pattern. Ummm.




Oh, and speaking of Jesus Camp, I found out what happened to this poor brainwashed peanuthead.

He took up sportsball.

Sorry mini-dude.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Rich Snots Behaving 'Orribly

Apropo of nothing...

This is the third time I've watched some of Downton Abbey with mah Sweetie. I don't like it, not one damn bit. These are the people the guillotine was invented for. But I must say:

It occurs to me, the Head Butler is as awful a human being as the rich hemophiliacs living in the larger bedrooms. In a perfect world, I'd have one more basket ready.

Just saying.