Merry Christmas with a Non-Archaic Pronounciation

Merry Xmas, Everybody!

"He knows when you are sleeping.

He knows when you're on the can.

He'll hunt you down and blast your ass

From here to Pakistan.

So. . .

You better not breath.

You batter not move.

You're better off dead,

I'm telling you, dude.

Santa Claus is gunning you down!"

Albert And Bill

Fat Albert confesses to tabloid: "Bill Cosby raped me after spiking my jello pudding and coke with roofies!" Says a distraught Albert: "I went to the police, hey, hey, hey and they told me cartoon characters couldn't press criminal charges against celebrities, hey, hey, hey. I hid my pain with food, food, and more food. Unfortunately, my favorite snack was jello pudding and coke." 

Friends Rudy, Russell, and Dumb Donald later confirmed the former child star's stories of gang violence and sexual exploitation and added some shocking details: "We all h-ha-hated playing n-na-naked b-ba-buckbuck with b-ba-Bill. He cl-cle-clearly had a th-thi-thing for f-fa-fat boys. Albert n-na-naturally took the l-li-lion's share of the a-ab-abuse."

Licence to kill

There is no excuse for shooting and killing an unarmed man, whatever his age, color, physical size, or legal priors. None. Period. The police must be held responsible for their actions. It has nothing to do with race. It is strictly a matter of public policy. Anyone who would argue otherwise is letting their prejudices and paranoia cloud their reasoning. A badge does not give one carte blanc to bully, harass, or control those you've supposedly sworn to protect. Darren Wilson was largely responsible for the situation in which he found himself. According to his own testimony, he was presented with numerous opportunities to calm a developing conflict and time and time again chose instead to throw gasoline on the proverbial fire. Those are the facts, my friend, and they are as straight as a line from point A to point B. No one needed to die in Ferguson. If he's an not-and-out murderer, he's at least a bad cop and should be off the street. His incompetence ultimately cost a life. A trained professional should be held to a higher standard of behavior than a stupid kid with a chip on his shoulder. If former officer Wilson is currently unemployed, it's his own damn fault. I don't hate the man, honestly, but I don't feel sorry for him either.

And, I may add, I have no idea how any of this could possibly be connected to mid-east terrorist groups or legalized abortion except within the disarranged mind of a confirmed conspiracy theorist. Let's get our mental ducks in a row, people, and focus on one subject at a time. The militarizing of local police units is a problem born of both the war on terror and the polarization of economic class and ethnic identity in American politics. Both corporation power and class privilege are effectively guarded by the institutionally accepted right of the police to maim, injure or kill anyone of their choosing without a realistic fear of prosecution, punishment or official public censure. In a perfect world, people behave properly because it's the right thing to do. In the real world, people must be held accountable for their actions; especially those actions performed in the name of the community. Public servants should serve the public and not themselves or their own small group. The job of law enforcement is not to terrorize, rob or control the local population, but to secure property, protect life and assist those in need. In a democracy, public empowerment goes hand in hand with personal responsibility.

Failure to punish the abuse of police power is a license for continued abuse. Law enforcement officials -- being human and fallible -- will inevitably do whatever they are allowed to get away by the the public and their elected representatives. Unless limited by both statute and the desire to enforce statute, the quest for personal power and the desire for group solidarity will almost always trump the public good. In any court room, the most dishonest and dangerous individuals are, more times than not, those representing the state. The more repressive a society, the larger its prison population. Physical control replaces justice as the motivating factor in all interactions between those in power and those in peril. Police states are created out of desperation and maintained out of fear. And the number of petty criminal offenses currently dealt with on a draconian level by federal and state courts is a clear sign of the direction the country is drifting. Darren Wilson isn't the cause of the decline in American jurisprudence, but a symptom of a deeper, more distressing malady now infecting the body politic. His removal -- and the removal of those like him -- is but a first step in the reformation of American democracy.

Wiass

Wisdom is a saxophone solo. . .

Author's Dossier

I write in spurts. When light creeps in through the edges of shroud covered windows. And doors bolted on the inside pop open for a infinitesimally brief instant. I write in spurts.

I write in haste. When a word left unspoken might be lost forever. And a thought left unexpressed will stick in my heart like a rush of clean water in a rusty pipe. I write in haste.

I write in delight. When the muse of occasion engulfs my brain in fragrant fire. And the impulse to move becomes slightly greater than the usual clarion call to inertia. I write in delight.

I write in hope. When the spirit moves me to song, but my voice gets stuck in my throat. And the disparaging parts of me unite to create something beautiful or unique. I write in hope.

The Words for Longing

The words for longing. Are few and far between. Leaking from a splintered heart. Tumbling from a shattered soul. Bits of verbiage. Metaphors of loss. Fashioned from wet clay. And the ticking. Of watches in thread bare pockets. And meals eaten alone.

The words for longing. Litter journal pages. Quaint descriptions of bleak romance. Penned on off-white sheets. Small disappointments. White hot embers. Growing cold in spider-webbed corners. And other recesses. Moist with decay. And wasted years.

The words for longing. Are like no other words. Images of love and lust. Beckon from beyond the grave. Hopes never abandoned. Dreams never forsaken. Staring across a no man's land. Of sweet imagination. And bitter memory. And arms forever empty.

All Voices. . .

All voices are lost eventually. All faces are forgotten. All names are erased from time's ledger. It will be as if they never were. History isn't a sieve, it's a brick wall.

More Random Thoughts.

When you tar everyone with the same brush the brush gets dirty fast.

If personalities were physical ailments, yours would be a paper cut; annoying, momentarily painful, but largely inconsequential.

When taking my new razor out of the packaging I cut myself on the plastic.

"Hell is other people." I'm almost positive Jean Paul Sartre wrote this line while driving. Maybe he was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic on the Boulevard of Crime.

When you live in a cage you soon come to believe that bars are a normal feature of the landscape.

The stream of consciousness is frequently polluted with cerebral waste material.

The blessing is in the perception of reality, not in the reality itself.

When the only thing that can be done is what needs to be done, choice is an illusion and heroism a mute point.

He who chooses his own honor over the wellbeing of others mistakes ego for honor.

Self-sacrifice is the only real sacrifice. Everything else is robbery or murder.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will develop ulcers.

The greatest curse bestowed on any individual is the ability to see everyone's point of view.

One step is often one step too many. When balanced on a cliff edge tread lightly.

Rush's Love Life

According to Wikipedia, Rush Limbaugh has been married three times. Explain this anomaly, please:

1] Alcohol and roofies.
2] God hates women big time.
3] We are living in the bizarro universe.
4] The number of blind/deaf women has increased several hundred percent since the end of World War II.
5] Ann Coulter, Michelle Malkin, and Phyllis Schaftly.
6] A loaded 38 and three rounds of ammunition.
7] Fat, bald, self-deluded, and shrill are the new signs of male virility.
8] Bad breath, bad manners, and impotence are more appealing in person than they are on the radio.

Two Short Poems

ODD RHYME SCHEME

No flight, only a secure nest.

No sight, only steadfast belief.

No joy, only the absence of grief.

No employ, only eternal rest.

*          *          *

CLOSED SYSTEM

In a box. In a room. In the grasp. No way out.

Nothing gained. Nothing lost. Nothing beyond. Twist and shout.

Out of time. Out of joint. Out of options. Death and doubt.

In a fix. In a fight. In the dark. No way out.

The Speed of Darkness

The speed of darkness. Turns the head in a flash. Flutters the eye lashes. Like a humming bird's wings. Leaves me alone. Far from light.
The space of silence. Shatters the ear. Beats a broken drum. Like a cripple tapping his crutch. Against a hollow heart. Empty with remorse.
The touch of time. Freezes the brain. Stiffened the limb. Like hemp threads wound around a promise. A glue made of marrow. And motion.

The speed of darkness. Voids the tongue. Quashes words. Like a scarf over the face. Abandons me to dream. A formless shadow.
The scent of despair. Stops muscle.  Leaves longing in tact. Like a limb lost but not forgotten. A feathered memory. Plumage stripped.
The fingers of fate. Push and prod. Squeeze metaphor from throats. Like paste from a metal tube. Ribs crack. And breath is difficult.

The speed of darkness. Shocks and awes. Numbs the senses. Like a cat claw across my skin. Draws blood to the surface. Oxidizes life.
The dance of desire. Tires the feet. Defeats wallflower common sense. Like a parent's prerogative. Overrules logic. Out thinks thought.
The hand of God. Hammers deity. Pounds sacristy. Like a nail driven into the savor's flesh. Blinds the cruel dawn. In hideous waves.

The speed of darkness. Turns the head in a flash. Flutters the eye lashes. Like a humming bird's wings. Leaves me alone. Far from light.
The space of silence. Shatters the ear. Beats a broken drum. Like a cripple tapping his crutch. Against a hollow heart. Empty with remorse.
The touch of time. Freezes the brain. Stiffened the limb. Like hemp threads wound around a promise. A glue made of marrow. And motion. . .

Non-Revelation

The years take their toll in wisdom. Once lost paradise is gone forever. People dominate the globe and people, with very few exceptions, aren't worth the clay that comprises them. The world is ugly because people are ugly. True evil is a problem with aesthetics, no more.

The planet from above is beautiful, but its beauty is illusionary. Take a closer look at Spaceship Earth. The world is crawling with vice. Sharp-toothed. Dagger-clawed. Drooling savages glutted on martyrs' blood. Filled with raw death. Fatted on kindly souls judiciously lynched.

The savior, his body cold and hanging from a tree, has saved no one. The prophet, dressed in perspiration and rags, cracks dirty jokes on a street corner. And the crowd, the crowd complies sponge-like. Absorbing everything and understanding nothing. Inanimate objects animated by chance, not design.

I take no comfort in the apocalypse. If I smile grimly it is more from a sense of relief than from joy at our demise. We are creatures who rose to the top of the food chain. And then, seeing no one capable of contesting our perfection, we proceeded to dine upon each other.

It took fifty years for this non-revelation to find the cynical soil of this fertile mind. Poisoned manna from a starless heaven. And I'm as culpable as any. Withdrawn within myself like a prelate on retreat. Contemplating my image in a fun-house mirror. Smirching at my foolishness and despair.

Cruel and capricious. Petty and pointless. The journey from cradle to grave is, as Shakespeare wrote, a tale told by any idiot. Meaning is a needle in a stack of ambiguous hay. Find it for yourself if you can. But don't prick my finger with your preaching. I've bled enough.

Random Thoughts on an Otherwise Sunny Day

Razor-blade arsenic pie. Yum.

Being bitten is almost always worse than being barked at.

Christmas at Kmart begins in September. Happy New Year, folks!

Since when did "have a nice day" replace "up against the wall, motherfucker" as the proscribed nicety for dismissing strangers at local businesses?

Wanderlust is overrated.

Count backwards from infinity using only prime numbers. I dare you. . .

People come and go, but there's always weather. What's up with that?

Judas needed love also.

I wonder: what does wildfire spread like?

I'm going out on Halloween dressed as Kim Jong-un.

I checked out a book on World War II from the library and found that a previous reader had defaced a photograph of Hitler by erasing his mustache.

Driving to work the other day I saw a sign at the fruit market that read "Deer Carrots." My immediate reaction was "Who's Carrots and where's the rest of the letter?"

I refuse to say "Ole Miss."

My one talent -- if such can be considered a talent -- is the ability to hang onto lost causes.

Life is what we do to kill time before time kills us.

Comfort food makes me retch.

It is a wicked mind that places order before justice.

What cannot be put into words always makes one cry.

I'm getting old. No doubt about it. When I see a pretty woman walking a dog I now find myself checking out the dog.

Pictures of other people's lives are a burden to behold.

Nothing interests me less than celebrity.

Faith and Fraud

Deep thought does not result in faith. Faith is the product of questions never asked or questions asked and answers ignored. Deep down the most religious person knows that his faith is a fraud. He just doesn't have the strength of character to announce it to the world or even to admit it to himself.

It Will Be. . .

When I die I will die alone. And that's okay. Pay no lip service to my passing. I know you have more pressing business to attend to. You needn't feel guilty. That. Both our hands were empty when the time arrived. It's no more -- or, rather, no less -- than I expected. I've never been a people person. Their presence wearies me. Terribly. Sometimes.

I wonder. How long it will be before I am forgotten. A year? A Month? A week? Sooner? I think that I'm a memory already. A face in a rear view mirror. A voice on an old LP. Receding. Growing scratchy after repeated play time. I am. A few words scribbled on a page. That no one will look at five minutes after the notebook closes. I am. But one day. It will be as if I never were.

Nothing I've ever said or done. Has ever meant a thing to anyone. Neither my words. Nor my DNA. Will survive my last breath. My spirit. If ever I had one. Left my body. Long ago. I have been soulless these last few years. That will make my death easier. When it comes. I hope. Only the living rail against. The dying of the light. My eyes are used to the darkness. They won't recognize the change.

If you're looking for a reason to live. Look elsewhere. You will find no hopeful messages. With my name beneath them. I've searched for redemption. And found redemption to be. A bedtime story. Told to an idiot child. Immortality is a nightmare I no longer entertain. If you'd like someone to tell you it all means something. Read someone else's thoughts on the matter.

Like Dante's damned. Newly arrived to eternity. I am without feathers. Naked in the shivered rays. Of a hard morning. And the mornings get harder as the days go by. The priest's cubbyhole. Curtained in the quiet and the warm. Apart from the living world. Has a sign hung on its sorry little door. "God is dead. . . Soon you will be also. . . . Confessions heard one to four."

Uzi

A phrase like "giving an uzi to a nine year old" used to be a metaphor for irresponsible adult behavior. Now it's just another news item on Facebook or Twitter.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Nugents

Possible SNL sketch: Teenage Mutant Ninja Nugents. They live in the sewer, love pizza, play the guitar, crap in their shells, and spout racist, right-wing propaganda. They are all named after prominent Republican politicians (McCain, Cruz, Boehner, and Perry) and are dedicated to fighting the forces of evil (immigrant children, public school teachers, gays, women, unionists, gun control advocates, non-whites, non-Christians, and compromise). Their ninja master is a rat named Reagan.

No Angels, No Devils, Only Us

An unpleasant truth is always better than a comforting delusion. Ultimately more good comes from facing reality than in avoiding it.

For those of you who dispute the factual content of the above passage there are always drugs and religion to fall back on.

Tooth Decay as a Metaphor

If greatness could be bottled, soft drink sales would suffer very little.

Order and Privilage

The purpose of the criminal justice system is not to find and punish the guilty party; it is to maintain an orderly society. It is the primary duty of every cop, lawyer, and judge to make sure that the food is grown and the goods are produced and the taxes are paid and the roads are maintained. Nothing else is of any consequence. Justice is not the endgame here, but an occasional and haphazardly obtained consequence of mechanisms designed to keep the general populous working toward the common goal of maintaining the hierarchic status quo. There's a reason why poor people are convicted of crimes more often than those those with money and resources; and that reason has nothing to do with honesty or morality and everything to do with power and privilege.

I Dare You

Try the newest fad. I dare you. I double-dare you. Be the first person on your block to accept the light socket challenge. . .

It's fun, it's easy, and nearly half of the people who try it escape with non-life threatening injuries and a minimal loss of brain function.

Pro Lost and Found

Sometimes you cry for yourself and sometimes you cry for others. Whatever the reason. Whoever the recipient. Same tears. Same feelings. That's the tragedy and the glory of being human.

Witty Ditty

"How dry I am. How wet I'll be. If I don't find. A place to pee." Sometimes great poetry just happens. . .

The A through Z of Peter Griffin

In this scene from television's Family Guy: Peter. . .

A) sees Ernie the Giant Chicken making out with his wife.
B) is practicing improv comedy.
C) has pissed himself. Again.
D) realizes that Barack Obama is a black guy.
E) decides that larger sized briefs might be a good idea.
F) has just been told by Lois that Meg is NOT adopted.
G) just watched his first episode of The Cleveland Show.
H) is looking in the window of Quagmire's bedroom.
I) is trying isometrics for the very first time.
J) has stepped in something Brian left at the foot of the bed.
K) dreams of being a crooner like Crosby or Sinatra.
L) discovers that The Drunken Clam has been a gay bar for fifteen years.
M) admires art at a local museum. Jackson Polack just blows him away.
N) does his McCauley Culkin imitation but, as usual, doesn't get the hands quite right.
O) has a revelation: his favorite brew, Pawtucket Green is people!
P) hears the voice of God on the radio and it sounds just like Merle Haggard.
Q) lets the alcohol do the talking but the alcohol is lost for words.
R) remembers that he left something -- the water perhaps -- running in the shower.
S) contemplates dieting in his spare time.
T) sees the size of Chris's penis and is duly impressed.
U) wonders why they never did a crossover show with King of the Hill.
V) is troubled that the sight of Joe in short shorts is giving him an erection.
W) has just been propositioned by Stewie's teddy bear, Rupert.
X) recites the "Possum Lodge" Pledge.
Y) recalls his old glee club days with drunken friends.
Z) relates his recent visit to the proctologist with his customary wit and sophistication.

Robin and Rush

It is the quintessential proof that life is disgustingly unfair that -- at this moment -- Robin Williams' body is stretched out on a coroner's table while Rush Limbaugh's fat, bloated carcass still draws breath in sufficient numbers to retain the illusion of animate matter.

Gambling

Risking something to which we attach little or no value is not gambling, but merely a mathematical entertainment.

If money means nothing to you, placing it in jeopardy will bring neither anxiety or anticipation.

The thrill of quick undeserved gain cannot exist without a corresponding fear of sudden disastrous loss.

My New Motto

My new motto is "Never eat at a restaurant that sells used dog collars." When you say it in French it sounds more profound.

Profit and Wisdom

Experience is the mother of achievement and the third cousin twice removed of wisdom. It's easier to profit from your mistakes economically than it is to learn from them emotionally.

Edison's early failures led to his later technical successes, but they didn't make him a better husband, a better father, a better neighbor, a better citizen, or a better person.

Odd and Unpopular

The honest man is an extreme oddity and the truth teller is a social pariah. That's me in a nutshell. Odd and unpopular.

Heal!

I told my dog to heel and she ran to the bathroom and came back with a tube of neosporin and a box of band aids.

The Evangelical Creed

I believe in God who made the Heaven and the Earth about six thousand years ago and personally created Capitalism sometime in the 17th century. And in his son who was made flesh, but never actually had a bowel movement or an erection or anything gross like that. And in life eternal for anyone and everyone who looks and acts exactly how I look and act.

Not only will I base my social and political views on a two thousand year old book written by unknown authors, I will base them on a misreading of what this document actually says based upon the testimonies of other misinformed individuals and whatever items I can cherry pick from its pages that conform to my own prejudices.

Furthermore, I will demand that everyone else accepts my vision of reality and my view of history or I will throw a hissy-fit and accuse those who disagree with me of bigotry and intolerance and every other vice or shortcoming that I myself am guilty of on a regular basis  but refuse to acknowledge.

I make this pledge to Father Jehovah of flood and burning bush fame and to White Jesus who died for my sins -- but not those of the black guy who picks up my garbage or the Mexican girl who cleans up on Tuesdays -- and has promised to make sure my stock portfolio increases in value by at least 10% by the end of the year.

Climate change is a hoax. Evolution is evil. Abortion is wicked. Gay marriage is wrong. Social safety nets are socialism. The poor are poor because they're unworthy of God's love. America is the greatest country on earth no matter what anyone says and contrary to all evidence. Obama is the anti-Christ. Amen. Alleluia!

Working Again

I'm working forty hours a week again, but don't worry, I haven't abandoned blogging. . .

A New Take on an Old Saying

Butterflies are free.

Take as many as you like.

Obnoxious Leadership

Today, "speak softly and carry a big stick" has been replaced by "speak as loudly as possible until everyone gets sick of your voice and leaves the room to get away from you."

Upon hearing this, Teddy Roosevelt rolled over in his grave once, strugged his shoulders, and then continued being dead. It turns out that the stick was buried with him.

A Bit of an Under Cooked Potato

The only way not to be angry with God is to admit to oneself that God is not distant or uncaring, crude or cruel, dead or disinterested, but merely a delusion.

The Man and the Switch

Out of every 25 people on death row in the United States, 1 is not guilty of the crime in which they've been convicted. Since 1976, 1373 people have been executed in 34 states. This means that 55 innocent people has been put to death by state governments in the United States in the past 38 years. 37.2% of these killings have taken place in Texas. 

During Rick Perry's 13 year tenure as governor of Texas, his state has executed 275 people. This means that -- in all likelihood -- 11 innocent people have been put to death on Perry's watch. When asked if he ever had trouble sleeping at night knowing that he was responsible for the deaths of 11 innocent men, he replied without a trace of remorse or self-doubt that he did not. . .

The Fool

Walking swiftly along the road
Somewhat heedless
Looking not where he goes
Toward the abyss.
  Quote the wise man
  A fool remains a fool.

Carrying a stick and bag
A dog at his heel
Perceiving not the crag
In his mad zeal.
  Quote the wise man
  A fool remains a fool.

Ignorant of foe and friend
Sightless as the night
Only pain and death will end
His foolish flight.
  Quote the wise man
  A fool remains a fool.

NITBBSB

My favorite not-in-the-Bible-but-should-be line is "Jesus spit."

Pot, Please. . .

Laura Ingraham: "Like Big Brother in 1984, Obama supports marijuana use to keep Americans anesthetized."

If Ingraham smoked a joint once in a while maybe she wouldn't be such a tight ass. If anyone needs recreational drugs, it's this woman. . .

Sarah Barrel

Some things are

just too damn easy

I've Evolved

I'd

rather

be

descended

from

a

protozoa

than

from

an

ignoramus

Pet Proverbs

"Hey, at least be kind to the dog." --an old beagle proverb

"F@ck all of you! Now fork over the f@cking catnip." --an old tabby proverb

"Overfed? Underfed? Floats to the top of the bowl." --an old goldfish proverb

"A single slither in the grass is worth a hundred walks on the wild side." --an old snake proverb

"Aaa, what's up, doc? What, you think Mel Blanch wrote his own material?" --an old rabbit proverb

"Who's a pretty boy? Repeated over and over again." --an old parrot proverb

"What's a proverb? Pass the pellets." --an old hamster proverb

Morning Meal

doom sets the

breakfast table

the morning meal lies

ready for consumption

one bite of fortune

and i'm off

chip on my shoulder

and dirge in my heart

the day begins

much as the night ended

a dung hill adorned

with flowers

Alone in the Universe

Based on the above equation, it is estimated that there are 1,000 to 100,000 technologically advanced civilizations (that is to say, civilizations capable of sending messages via radio signals) in the Milky Way Galaxy.

Furthermore, there are at least 100 billion -- and possibly as  many as 500 billion -- other galaxies in the universe in addition to our own.

Multiply these two figures (lowest x lowest & highest x highest) and the number of civilizations in the universe that roughly approximate our own would be between 100 quintillion (10¹³) and 500 sextillion (5 x 10¹⁵).

There are 7 billion people on Earth. If each civilization listed above consists of approximately the same number of individuals, the total number of other thinking creatures in the universe would be between 7 x 10²² and 35 x 10²⁴.

We may be isolated, we may be insignificant, but we are, most assuredly, not alone in the Universe.

I Miss Dubya

I miss Dubya too. No matter how badly I behaved, no matter what stupid things I said, I always knew I was better than someone.

Darwin and the Beagle

Evidently, Darwin's dog was NOT a beagle. How ironic is that? Also, he had a pet hamster named Mrs Thatcher. That's not exactly ironic, but it's still kind of interesting, don't you think?

Waiting

I've decided to spend the entire day waiting for Godot. Maybe tomorrow, too. . .

Drug Free

I don't have a favorite athlete. I'm an adult. I don't live vicariously through the athletic achievements of other adults who play children's games for a living. Spectator sports may be the opiate of the people, but this is one person who doesn't share the addiction. . .

The SNL View

Possible sketch for SNL. All five panelists on The View have been fired and replaced with Sybil. The most disturbing part of the scene will occur when Sally Field ("You like me, you really like me!") switches into her Whoopi Goldberg personality ("I'm not gonna be in no damn convent with these people. These people don't even have sex!").

 

Eventually, Sybil-Whoopi emerges as the dominate personality as Sybil-Baba, Sybil-Joy, Sybil-Liz, and Sybil-Sally are crowded out of the conversation.

Change

"I tossed a handful of pennies skyward

Where they landed I don't much care

But for one brief and shining moment

Change was really truly in the air."

Wisdom

Keep your nose hair trimmed and your fingernails and toenails cut. See, fifty-odd years of life hasn't been entirely wasted. I do have a few select pearls of wisdom to offer. . .

Beware

Beware:

Passion without compassion.

Opinion without understanding.

Politics without principal.

Order without justice.

Say Cheese!

You can't catch an elephant with a mouse trap. Even if you succeed in making a "better" mouse trap the endeavor is doomed to failure.

Not Politically Motivated

GOP Representative Insists That

The Lawsuit Against Obama

Is Not Politically Motivated

No, of course it's not politically motivated. It's racially motivated. They'd sue any uppity black man who disagreed with them. The GOP's philosophical commitment to angry, white males -- otherwise known as the "Southern Strategy" -- requires no less; now that physical lynching is out of the question. Everybody has their place and a black man's place is not in the White House; hence the name "White House." Rumor has it that he's even used the toilet! It's all quite simple and completely logical if you're either a racist yourself or have decided to make common cause with racists.

The race card is a prominent feature in the Teapublican playing deck. Once it's on the table whoever points out its presence is assigned the blame for it being there. After all, only a racist would call someone a racist, right? If this type of reasoning disturbs you, just remember: circular logic seems to be the only kind of logic a conservative understands. Also, it may be pointed out that blaming the opposition for your own shortcomings is a time honored political tradition and a common tactic of both major parties. Nothing new there.

Boehner and company taking the President to court shouldn't surprise anyone. In an era of government where the supreme legal authority of the land pays no attention to either common sense or past precedent, the most outrageous lawsuits and quasi-legal challenges are now heard without even a chuckle (much less a full belly laugh). If this case goes to the Supreme Court, we all know how it will be decided; unless, of course, Antonin Scalia has a massive coronary in the middle of watching gay porn and drops dead the day before arguments begin. We can always hope. . .

5 Morons

Why do all the bad people seem to gather in the same place at the same time?

Poison

Bring the gleaming cup to your lips

Take a fatal sip

In your heart death already reigns

Now let it touch your veins

Clarify your position

Drink the poison

When life is bitter, its loss is sweet

Come take a load off your feet

Cats love milk, rats like cheese

Do as you please

You hold the power to make or break

To sleep and never wake

Of course there are other ways

Messy but okay

But why open a wrist

To replace a woman's kiss?

Do it now, pour the wine

While there's still time

Why hesitate, why stall?

Unless you've never courted death at all

Peewee Thomas

Clarence Thomas replacing Thurgood Marshall on The Supreme Court was like Peewee Herman replacing Laurence Olivier in a production of Hamlet.

Sanity and Deity

No sane person could look at the world as it exists and believe that it was created by a kind, compassionate deity. Either God is an uncaring bastard or God doesn't exist. Those are your only two choices. 

Raise Your Hand

Everyone with an IQ lower than their shoe size please hold up a picture of Hitler raising his hand. . .

First Impressions

Be careful who you demonize and even more careful who you idolize. No one is quite as despicable or admirable as they first appear.

Complexity and Faith

The complexity of the universe or anything in the universe is not a viable argument for the existence of God. If God exists, he/she/it must be even more complex than the sum of his/her/its creation. How did God come from nothing? It's amazing how many people choose to answer that question by choosing not to answer that question. Such a response constitutes intellectual cowardice and little else. For the vast majority of people, faith is merely an excuse to stop using their brains.

Custer and Friends

Custer's Last Stand

25 July 1876