A Story From the Front Line of White Collar Unemployment:
Since stories abound about how "jobs" and "trade" are now the hot issues in the presidential campaign, and since all of the candidates are awfully damn fond of talking about this particular jobless person or that without actually allowing said jobless person to speak for him/herself, the Rude Pundit is sharing an e-mail he received about a reader's search for dignity and worth in this Bushwhacked economy. In a minimally edited/corrected form, here it is:
"I grew up in LA, but moved to SF in 1984 to go to college. I stayed in the Bay Area, more or less, until 2000. I had previously been involved with the Dot Com boom. Honestly the whole thing appalled me; the unbridled greed and arrogance was more than I could take. Also, as a history major, and probably one of the few people in this country to actually learn from history, I KNEW the Dot Com thing was a bubble. So I got out while I was ahead, and moved to LA where there is a wider variety of industries to choose from. No, I did not, and do not, want to enter the entertainment industry. I grew up around Hollywood elites, and am not in the least bit star-struck and don't feel attracted to the industry at all. I've seen it from the inside, and it ain't such a much.
"I got a job pretty quick. Although history is my passion, accounting is what pays the bills. I ended up at a medium-sized light-industrial company in beautiful N. Hollywood. They do bulk mailings. It was run by a two brothers and a sister. And 90% of the 165 workers were recent immigrants from Latin America (all legal). The one brother who was owner and the sister ran the place like their little fiefdom; people got fired on the spot for no reason, communication from the bosses generally took the form of expletive-laced screaming, the workers were terrified of them, and they were expected to be grateful when once a year they MAYBE got a 25 cent raise added to their minimum wage salaries.
"Oh, and then there was the fraud; the siblings being reimbursed by the company for such business expenses as Zales Jewlers and the Luau Bar at the Honolulu Hilton - paperwork that I had to OK and sign off on. One of my pre-Dot Com incarnations in SF had been as a union steward. So I can't tell you how many times I wanted to hop up on a table in the warehouse and pull a Norma Rae. Oh, and on top of it all, the owner brother was a fundamentalist Christian who left his Christian principals at the church door; he was the most greedy, most tyrannical of the whole family. Perhaps the fact that most of his employees were Catholic made them subhuman in his eyes.
"Well, needless to say, I didn't last long. I got 'laid off' in November 2000 (the week of Thanksgiving) for refusing to sign financial paperwork that I considered fraudulent at worst, and unethical at best. Very Enron-esque. However, revenge really is best served cold. First thing I did when I got home was to put a call in to the IRS fraud hotline. NEVER piss off your accountant. They know where your financial skeletons are hidden. It took a year, but they were audtied and got into vast shitloads of trouble. Heh heh.
"However, since then, I have been unemployed. The economy here in LA fell apart right when I lost my job. I have been temping ever since. And while now things are beginning to look better, it's been a long difficult coupla years. I had to declare bankruptcy for one thing.
"Have you ever been a temp? It is THE 21st Century form of slavery. I call it a modern form of slavery because the temp has no control over what happens to him/her, at least in terms of work. You have to be willing to work anywhere, for any salary, under any conditions, because even temp jobs are difficult to find. The agency that assigns you has all the power; no matter how bad it is, it is in their interest to keep you on site for as long as possible. And if you quit, you are then put on the Shit List, and that agency will not find you any more work. And, given that the temp agency biz is so incestuous, chances are that the agent who put you on the List will show up in one of the other agencies at some point (LA itself has only three major agencies that handle accounting temps.) So in temping, your reputation makes or breaks you. Additionally, as a temp you are the kleenex of the labor market; I can't tell you how many times I've gone home at night to find a message from the agency saying 'Don't go in tomorrow. They don't want you any more.' Boom. That's it. No work. Fortunately for me, I have an excellent reputation.
"To say the least, temping is such a degrading, de-humanizing experience, that your self esteem takes a real hit. For much of 2001 and 2002 I was clinically depressed and borderline suicidal. And of course I had no health insurance, so I couldn't get treatment.
"Right now, my chances of getting a job are getting better and I have several irons in the fire. I got through my depression and no longer want to off myself. So I am recovering, no thanks to any government program (I make too much money to qualify for anything, but I don't make enough to actually provide for anything as a single un-childed person other than the bare bare essentials) or anything. I suppose the Republicans could use me as their poster child. However the last three years radically changed my philosophy of life, killed my previously abundant optimism and positive outlook, and has really made the idea of participating in The System a repulsive one. Now I am a cynical, almost bitter person fast approaching middle age. I feel like a major chunk of my best years - my 30's - has been taken away from me by forces that were largely beyond my control (the recession, getting laid off, etc.) and while I've done everything I could to get by, I am definitely NOT better off than four years ago.
"I have two elderly parents in declining health. When they kick the bucket, I have made the decision to leave the country, most probably to Canada, where I have a cousin who could sponsor me (he went to Canada to escape Viet Nam). But even this makes me angry, because I'm not the only bright, intelligent, hard working, talented person who wants to escape this place. Nearly all my friends - men, women, straight, gay, white, non-white, etc. are at least fantasizing about leaving. And that's a sad state of affairs when the best people want to leave. I mean, that happens either in third world countries or dictatorships."
The Rude Pundit is not a "journalist," so, no, he can't vouch for the story, but the gut says it sounds awfully real and really awful (and a whole helluva lot more reliable than Matt Drudge).
Let's open this up. Send your stories of being sodomized by job loss and unemployment and what it means to be on the Bush Superhighway of Economic Doom to: rudepundit@yahoo.com.
This is a call to all the places that link to the Rude Pundit - put out the word that this blog wants these stories. If we receive some interesting ones, we'll print them. Let's put a human face on the degradation of the American worker.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Scraping Bottom:
The abstract concept of "only" 344,000 people applying for first-time unemployment benefits is being explained by "economists" as a sign that the weather has gotten better. Oh, and the economy is "sluggish" but improving. The Rude Pundit believes the number has dropped because employers are simply running out of people to fire. We've reached critical mass, that point where industries will not be able to function with less employees.
Of course, this bottoming out comes on the heels of the Bush administration's retreat from its ballsy lie that the economy would create 2.6 million jobs this year. Now follow the spinning ball of logic that is the Bush White House: the Economic Report of the President is sent to Congress last week. Of the motherfucking President. But now that same motherfucking President is saying he was wrong and his vile, depraved pile of horse feces called Scott McClellan defends said President by saying that the policies are the ones that Bush stands by, but it's the final outcome that's different. Said the horse feces, "The president is not a statistician." No, that's pretty fucking obvious by the way numbers make his face get all scrunchy. But it'd be nice if he acted like a President, huh? This is like when your family tells you, "We're going on a trip to Disneyland," and then packs you in the car, only to cross the border into Tijuana to sell you into sexual slavery, where you can suck the cocks of terminally psychotic American executive-pedophiles for pennies on the dollar. See? They're both road trips, just with different outcomes. One involves Mickey Mouse. The other involves a short life of constant beatings, sodomy, and torture. But, goddamn, at least you get to ride in the car. Isn't that good enough for you?
Tomorrow: A true tale from the Bush superhighway of economic doom.
The abstract concept of "only" 344,000 people applying for first-time unemployment benefits is being explained by "economists" as a sign that the weather has gotten better. Oh, and the economy is "sluggish" but improving. The Rude Pundit believes the number has dropped because employers are simply running out of people to fire. We've reached critical mass, that point where industries will not be able to function with less employees.
Of course, this bottoming out comes on the heels of the Bush administration's retreat from its ballsy lie that the economy would create 2.6 million jobs this year. Now follow the spinning ball of logic that is the Bush White House: the Economic Report of the President is sent to Congress last week. Of the motherfucking President. But now that same motherfucking President is saying he was wrong and his vile, depraved pile of horse feces called Scott McClellan defends said President by saying that the policies are the ones that Bush stands by, but it's the final outcome that's different. Said the horse feces, "The president is not a statistician." No, that's pretty fucking obvious by the way numbers make his face get all scrunchy. But it'd be nice if he acted like a President, huh? This is like when your family tells you, "We're going on a trip to Disneyland," and then packs you in the car, only to cross the border into Tijuana to sell you into sexual slavery, where you can suck the cocks of terminally psychotic American executive-pedophiles for pennies on the dollar. See? They're both road trips, just with different outcomes. One involves Mickey Mouse. The other involves a short life of constant beatings, sodomy, and torture. But, goddamn, at least you get to ride in the car. Isn't that good enough for you?
Tomorrow: A true tale from the Bush superhighway of economic doom.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
They Don't Eat Meat, But They Sure Like the Bone:
In San Francisco, home of the Castro, the most color-coordinated neighborhood in America, homosexuals can't get married fast enough or in big enough numbers. And the two judges in the cases brought against the City of San Fran have said, weeelll, let's take a looky at this for a few minutes, or days, or months, depending on your judge. So the lines of sodomites continue around the block and the major media can't get enough of the images of kissing gay males and lesbians, celebrating their inclusion in the realm of the soon-to-be two-thirds divorced. Why has no stay been issued? Because the judges here realize one thing: no one is being hurt by the actions continuing. No one. "God" hasn't rained frogs, lava, or goat shit on our heads for this happening. No plagues. No rapture. Nothing. Shut the fuck up, homophobes, and wait in your compounds for the apocalypse.
And not to get all Polyphonic Spree here, but isn't this just a beautiful thing? Isn't this one of the coolest acts of civil disobedience you've seen in quite some time? Because it's such a "fuck you" to the right wing of the country from Democratic Mayor Gavin Newsom. Does it violate the "law"? Well, yeah, but the Let's-Lie-To-Ourselves-That-Straight-Marriage-Is-Perfect law probably violates the constitution of California, which says, "A person may not be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law or denied equal protection of the laws." Now, the Rude Pundit is not a legal expert, but it seems that if yer gonna promise "equal protection," you either mean it or not.
So, for all those who want to support this but feel like it's an inevitability that the marriages will be halted and even annulled, spin it the way the Christian Right spins shit. Just like the Right says that pro-choice supporters are "baby killers," let's say that anyone who wants the weddings to stop and all those performed to be declared null and void believe that government should force people to divorce. Call 'em "marriage killers." What's wrong?, we can say, you want people to divorce? Is that what you're saying?
And as we head down the slobbity-bobbity slope to amending the U.S. Constitution to say . . .well, who the fuck knows, but you can bet it says that marriage is man and woman and let no one say otherwise or we're sending in the troops to squash your queer ass, here's our fearful leader on the subject: "I am watching very carefully, but I am troubled by what I've seen." The ambiguous "troubling" is rather "troubling." Is Bush troubled because it is awakening some latent anxiety in him, that perhaps, long ago, feeling the thrust of power between his legs that was his fighter plane, he realized that the firm control stick felt so good in his hands, that the force of engine and jettisoning of fuel made him feel things that he'd tried oh-so-hard to forget during all those Skull and Bones paddlings back in New Haven? Troubling, indeed.
In San Francisco, home of the Castro, the most color-coordinated neighborhood in America, homosexuals can't get married fast enough or in big enough numbers. And the two judges in the cases brought against the City of San Fran have said, weeelll, let's take a looky at this for a few minutes, or days, or months, depending on your judge. So the lines of sodomites continue around the block and the major media can't get enough of the images of kissing gay males and lesbians, celebrating their inclusion in the realm of the soon-to-be two-thirds divorced. Why has no stay been issued? Because the judges here realize one thing: no one is being hurt by the actions continuing. No one. "God" hasn't rained frogs, lava, or goat shit on our heads for this happening. No plagues. No rapture. Nothing. Shut the fuck up, homophobes, and wait in your compounds for the apocalypse.
And not to get all Polyphonic Spree here, but isn't this just a beautiful thing? Isn't this one of the coolest acts of civil disobedience you've seen in quite some time? Because it's such a "fuck you" to the right wing of the country from Democratic Mayor Gavin Newsom. Does it violate the "law"? Well, yeah, but the Let's-Lie-To-Ourselves-That-Straight-Marriage-Is-Perfect law probably violates the constitution of California, which says, "A person may not be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law or denied equal protection of the laws." Now, the Rude Pundit is not a legal expert, but it seems that if yer gonna promise "equal protection," you either mean it or not.
So, for all those who want to support this but feel like it's an inevitability that the marriages will be halted and even annulled, spin it the way the Christian Right spins shit. Just like the Right says that pro-choice supporters are "baby killers," let's say that anyone who wants the weddings to stop and all those performed to be declared null and void believe that government should force people to divorce. Call 'em "marriage killers." What's wrong?, we can say, you want people to divorce? Is that what you're saying?
And as we head down the slobbity-bobbity slope to amending the U.S. Constitution to say . . .well, who the fuck knows, but you can bet it says that marriage is man and woman and let no one say otherwise or we're sending in the troops to squash your queer ass, here's our fearful leader on the subject: "I am watching very carefully, but I am troubled by what I've seen." The ambiguous "troubling" is rather "troubling." Is Bush troubled because it is awakening some latent anxiety in him, that perhaps, long ago, feeling the thrust of power between his legs that was his fighter plane, he realized that the firm control stick felt so good in his hands, that the force of engine and jettisoning of fuel made him feel things that he'd tried oh-so-hard to forget during all those Skull and Bones paddlings back in New Haven? Troubling, indeed.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
Spinning as Fast as They Can:
The fascinating thing about George Bush's visit to NASCAR's Daytona 500 was not the pathetic sight of the President trying to be tough by proxy one more time. Nope, it was the metaphor of the spin out and crash and Bush's proximity to it that was most telling. Because, see, we're all sitting here now, in this America of ours, and we're watching that spin and crash happen in the Bush Adminstration. And like the driver in the seat of the twisting piece of wreckage that used to be a stock car, his anus clenched, hoping he doesn't go up in flames, hoping he doesn't piss himself into shame, Bush is reeling from all of the spin and slam.
It happens so fast these days, the statements, the lies revealed, the hyprocrisy shown. Take, for instance, the first Bush/Cheney ad attacking John Kerry as "unprincipled" for taking special interest money in his career while, now, railing against special interests. The ad even implies that Kerry supported policies for those who donated money. Of course, as the Washington Post and others showed within days of the ad's web debut, George Bush and Dick Cheney saying someone is beholden to the teat of corporate cash is a little like a diseased crack whore saying that some women who marry for money can be called "prostitutes." Bush has taken more than four times what Kerry has taken in lobbyist money. Oh, and the Bush administration has directly rewarded "Pioneer" donor lobbyists with ambassadorships and other jobs.
Take, for instance, Terry Holt, Bush's campaign press secretary, who, in a New York Times article on the lack of attacks ads on John Kerry from other Democrats, commented, "[Kerry] comes out of the primary without having answered the most basic questions regarding his readiness to be president, his clarity of philosophy. Those could be a problem down the line," adding that the Bush campaign would label Kerry "a liberal Massachusetts senator with a very lightweight record of accomplishment." Wow. Kinda mean, huh? But here's Holt on CNN this morning, saying that while Kerry runs ads making "personal attacks" on Bush (which sounds like Kerry has an ad saying "Bush is a big pussy and he cries when he comes," which, fun as it might be, Kerry does not), "I think people in this country want a hopeful message. They want to look forward. They don't want to go back to a time when everybody was shooting bullets at each other and it was a very negative campaign." So, like, they'd have to go back in time, to, say, last Thursday, when the attack ad came out?
Take, for instance, the debacle over the chair of the Bush's Council of Economic Advisors saying that "outsourcing" jobs, that is, sending them overseas and away from the greedy hands of unemployed Americans, is good for the economy. Ahh, it's always nice to see a glimpse into the unmitigated greed-filled soul of the White House in all its Mammon worshipping sliminess. Then came the backpedaling, because, you know, this is an election year, with the adviser offering an apology and Bush distancing himself again from another comment of his own people.
Oh, how this list could continue, with the triumphalist release of National Guard records that show that when Bush bothered to show up, he loved him some fighter jets, givin' him that coke-like rush of adrenaline that only high quality blow would be able to provide for him later in life. Of course, those records are still incomplete, and only the memories of those who claim they saw Bush in Alabama are valued.
Spin, baby, spin and try to avoid the wall and the other cars. Try to get control of the spin, 'cause once you smack the wall and the tires come off and the smoke starts pouring, you're out of the race.
The fascinating thing about George Bush's visit to NASCAR's Daytona 500 was not the pathetic sight of the President trying to be tough by proxy one more time. Nope, it was the metaphor of the spin out and crash and Bush's proximity to it that was most telling. Because, see, we're all sitting here now, in this America of ours, and we're watching that spin and crash happen in the Bush Adminstration. And like the driver in the seat of the twisting piece of wreckage that used to be a stock car, his anus clenched, hoping he doesn't go up in flames, hoping he doesn't piss himself into shame, Bush is reeling from all of the spin and slam.
It happens so fast these days, the statements, the lies revealed, the hyprocrisy shown. Take, for instance, the first Bush/Cheney ad attacking John Kerry as "unprincipled" for taking special interest money in his career while, now, railing against special interests. The ad even implies that Kerry supported policies for those who donated money. Of course, as the Washington Post and others showed within days of the ad's web debut, George Bush and Dick Cheney saying someone is beholden to the teat of corporate cash is a little like a diseased crack whore saying that some women who marry for money can be called "prostitutes." Bush has taken more than four times what Kerry has taken in lobbyist money. Oh, and the Bush administration has directly rewarded "Pioneer" donor lobbyists with ambassadorships and other jobs.
Take, for instance, Terry Holt, Bush's campaign press secretary, who, in a New York Times article on the lack of attacks ads on John Kerry from other Democrats, commented, "[Kerry] comes out of the primary without having answered the most basic questions regarding his readiness to be president, his clarity of philosophy. Those could be a problem down the line," adding that the Bush campaign would label Kerry "a liberal Massachusetts senator with a very lightweight record of accomplishment." Wow. Kinda mean, huh? But here's Holt on CNN this morning, saying that while Kerry runs ads making "personal attacks" on Bush (which sounds like Kerry has an ad saying "Bush is a big pussy and he cries when he comes," which, fun as it might be, Kerry does not), "I think people in this country want a hopeful message. They want to look forward. They don't want to go back to a time when everybody was shooting bullets at each other and it was a very negative campaign." So, like, they'd have to go back in time, to, say, last Thursday, when the attack ad came out?
Take, for instance, the debacle over the chair of the Bush's Council of Economic Advisors saying that "outsourcing" jobs, that is, sending them overseas and away from the greedy hands of unemployed Americans, is good for the economy. Ahh, it's always nice to see a glimpse into the unmitigated greed-filled soul of the White House in all its Mammon worshipping sliminess. Then came the backpedaling, because, you know, this is an election year, with the adviser offering an apology and Bush distancing himself again from another comment of his own people.
Oh, how this list could continue, with the triumphalist release of National Guard records that show that when Bush bothered to show up, he loved him some fighter jets, givin' him that coke-like rush of adrenaline that only high quality blow would be able to provide for him later in life. Of course, those records are still incomplete, and only the memories of those who claim they saw Bush in Alabama are valued.
Spin, baby, spin and try to avoid the wall and the other cars. Try to get control of the spin, 'cause once you smack the wall and the tires come off and the smoke starts pouring, you're out of the race.
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Friday, February 13, 2004
Why Ann Coulter Is Still a Cunt, Part 7 of an Endless Series:
So dogface she-bitch Ann Coulter decided in her latest "column" to attack former Senator Max Cleland's credentials to talk about Bush's time or lack thereof in the National Guard. Cleland, you might remember, is a Vietnam vet who had three limbs blown off in Vietnam and was defeated for the Senate when Saxby Chambliss, Republican cocksucker, put out a commercial that said because Cleland wanted union protection for workers in the new Department of Homeland Security, he was as good as Osama Bin Laden.
Spitting shit-smelling bile wherever she opens her mouth, Coulter claims that "Cleland lost three limbs in an accident during a routine noncombat mission where he was about to drink beer with friends. He saw a grenade on the ground and picked it up. " Of course, reality has a way of biting one on one's bony ass. Turns out that non-combat mission was the siege of Khe Sanh. Here's Fox "news" on that nearly three-month operation in 1968: "The base was under siege for 77 days (from January to April 1968). The 6,000 Marines and soldiers at the base were surrounded by a massive North Vietnamese Enemy Force numbering more than 20,000 by some estimates. Enduring unrelenting enemy fire, heavy casualties and dwindling supplies of ammunition, food and water, the Americans held their ground and broke the back of the enemy. Conditions at the base were stark: most were unable to shower for months, they often had to share their last drops of water or last bites of food with their buddies and enemy fire was so constant they had to live underground in bunkers for most of the siege." Damn, the Rude Pundit bets that was one awesome beer Cleland went for.
So here's what happened, from Veterans for Peace: "On April 8, 1968, during the siege of Khe Sanh, [Cleland] stepped off a helicopter and saw a grenade at his feet. He thought he'd dropped it. He was wrong. When he reached down to pick it up, it exploded, ripping off both legs and his right hand. He was 25." For good measure, let's put in the next paragraph: "He spent eight months recuperating at Walter Reed Army Hospital. On one of his first trips out of the hospital, an old girlfriend pushed him around Washington in his wheelchair. Outside the White House, the chair hit a curb and Cleland pitched forward and fell out. He remembers flopping around helplessly in the dirt and cigarette butts in the gutter."
Maybe, just maybe, Cleland should sue the Gucci off of Coulter for her line: "He didn't 'give his limbs for his country,' or leave them 'on the battlefield.' There was no bravery involved in dropping a grenade on himself with no enemy troops in sight."
When is somebody going to stop giving this fucking cunt a forum for her lies? When is she going to end up, coked out of her mind, swinging on a pole in a strip club in, say, Elizabeth, New Jersey, shovin' her little titties in men's faces for a buck, and when she offers her opinion on, say, the war, the good truck drivin' vets'll say, "You know, you'd be a lot prettier with my cock in your mouth"? You can bet she'll have to blow them for a quick ten spot.
So dogface she-bitch Ann Coulter decided in her latest "column" to attack former Senator Max Cleland's credentials to talk about Bush's time or lack thereof in the National Guard. Cleland, you might remember, is a Vietnam vet who had three limbs blown off in Vietnam and was defeated for the Senate when Saxby Chambliss, Republican cocksucker, put out a commercial that said because Cleland wanted union protection for workers in the new Department of Homeland Security, he was as good as Osama Bin Laden.
Spitting shit-smelling bile wherever she opens her mouth, Coulter claims that "Cleland lost three limbs in an accident during a routine noncombat mission where he was about to drink beer with friends. He saw a grenade on the ground and picked it up. " Of course, reality has a way of biting one on one's bony ass. Turns out that non-combat mission was the siege of Khe Sanh. Here's Fox "news" on that nearly three-month operation in 1968: "The base was under siege for 77 days (from January to April 1968). The 6,000 Marines and soldiers at the base were surrounded by a massive North Vietnamese Enemy Force numbering more than 20,000 by some estimates. Enduring unrelenting enemy fire, heavy casualties and dwindling supplies of ammunition, food and water, the Americans held their ground and broke the back of the enemy. Conditions at the base were stark: most were unable to shower for months, they often had to share their last drops of water or last bites of food with their buddies and enemy fire was so constant they had to live underground in bunkers for most of the siege." Damn, the Rude Pundit bets that was one awesome beer Cleland went for.
So here's what happened, from Veterans for Peace: "On April 8, 1968, during the siege of Khe Sanh, [Cleland] stepped off a helicopter and saw a grenade at his feet. He thought he'd dropped it. He was wrong. When he reached down to pick it up, it exploded, ripping off both legs and his right hand. He was 25." For good measure, let's put in the next paragraph: "He spent eight months recuperating at Walter Reed Army Hospital. On one of his first trips out of the hospital, an old girlfriend pushed him around Washington in his wheelchair. Outside the White House, the chair hit a curb and Cleland pitched forward and fell out. He remembers flopping around helplessly in the dirt and cigarette butts in the gutter."
Maybe, just maybe, Cleland should sue the Gucci off of Coulter for her line: "He didn't 'give his limbs for his country,' or leave them 'on the battlefield.' There was no bravery involved in dropping a grenade on himself with no enemy troops in sight."
When is somebody going to stop giving this fucking cunt a forum for her lies? When is she going to end up, coked out of her mind, swinging on a pole in a strip club in, say, Elizabeth, New Jersey, shovin' her little titties in men's faces for a buck, and when she offers her opinion on, say, the war, the good truck drivin' vets'll say, "You know, you'd be a lot prettier with my cock in your mouth"? You can bet she'll have to blow them for a quick ten spot.
Defining a Scandal:
Goddamn, sometimes the Rude Pundit loves Paul Krugman so much he wants to offer the Princeton economist and New York Times columnist a blow job. And after today's column, where Krugman tears the living shit out of the veil of "character" that surrounds George W. Bush, the Rude Pundit would be willing to lick Krugman's balls and jam his fingers up his ass to make him cum harder. And then the Rude Pundit would turn around and fuck the living shit out of Maureen Dowd for her column on the hypocrisy and cruelty of the Bush Administration. And then he'd beat the living crap out of David Brooks, just for shits and giggles and, oh, yeah, for this bit of doggerel that projects an actual thought process going on in the President.
And while the Rude Pundit is doing his damndest to pleasure and punish, let's throw out a special firebomb bag of shit at Matt Drudge, that creepy, perverted, fuckfaced stream of ratpiss. Because the tool of the right is at it again, with his "explosive" allegation that John Kerry may have fucked an intern. No details. Nothing. (And there will be no link because Drudge is, as mentioned above, a creepy, perverted, fuckfaced stream of ratpiss.) God, how many male prostitutes did Karl Rove have to tie up and offer to Drudge to get him to print this? Or, perhaps, the more interesting story is "Why is no one running with the story?"
Here's the deal, and it's really quick because the Rude Pundit has work to do: We're sick of it, we the people. We don't give a shit anymore who someone fucked. Because we now see the true face of scandal in the Bush Administration, and it's fucking ugly: it means people get killed on a whim. And no amount of allegations of extramarital fucking will ever balance the ledger against over 500 dead for lies. We know now that the Clinton "scandal" was about power. And that real scandal involves a government that has such contempt for its citizens that it feels they are disposable.
The major media know this: here's the Washington Post on how most people think "the truth was stretched" to justify war. So no one wants to lose viewers. Remember: conservative as the media is, it ultimately serves its own bottom line more than anything else. And Dowd and Krugman, among many, are able to articulate the truth about the savagely dishonest heart of the White House.
As Republicans begin to turn on the Bush Adminstration, somewhere in hell, the scorched soul of Richard Nixon is feeling gratified: "Now maybe those sons-of-bitches up there will have something else to talk about in the future besides Watergate, and my crimes will fade like so many Teapot Domes."
Goddamn, sometimes the Rude Pundit loves Paul Krugman so much he wants to offer the Princeton economist and New York Times columnist a blow job. And after today's column, where Krugman tears the living shit out of the veil of "character" that surrounds George W. Bush, the Rude Pundit would be willing to lick Krugman's balls and jam his fingers up his ass to make him cum harder. And then the Rude Pundit would turn around and fuck the living shit out of Maureen Dowd for her column on the hypocrisy and cruelty of the Bush Administration. And then he'd beat the living crap out of David Brooks, just for shits and giggles and, oh, yeah, for this bit of doggerel that projects an actual thought process going on in the President.
And while the Rude Pundit is doing his damndest to pleasure and punish, let's throw out a special firebomb bag of shit at Matt Drudge, that creepy, perverted, fuckfaced stream of ratpiss. Because the tool of the right is at it again, with his "explosive" allegation that John Kerry may have fucked an intern. No details. Nothing. (And there will be no link because Drudge is, as mentioned above, a creepy, perverted, fuckfaced stream of ratpiss.) God, how many male prostitutes did Karl Rove have to tie up and offer to Drudge to get him to print this? Or, perhaps, the more interesting story is "Why is no one running with the story?"
Here's the deal, and it's really quick because the Rude Pundit has work to do: We're sick of it, we the people. We don't give a shit anymore who someone fucked. Because we now see the true face of scandal in the Bush Administration, and it's fucking ugly: it means people get killed on a whim. And no amount of allegations of extramarital fucking will ever balance the ledger against over 500 dead for lies. We know now that the Clinton "scandal" was about power. And that real scandal involves a government that has such contempt for its citizens that it feels they are disposable.
The major media know this: here's the Washington Post on how most people think "the truth was stretched" to justify war. So no one wants to lose viewers. Remember: conservative as the media is, it ultimately serves its own bottom line more than anything else. And Dowd and Krugman, among many, are able to articulate the truth about the savagely dishonest heart of the White House.
As Republicans begin to turn on the Bush Adminstration, somewhere in hell, the scorched soul of Richard Nixon is feeling gratified: "Now maybe those sons-of-bitches up there will have something else to talk about in the future besides Watergate, and my crimes will fade like so many Teapot Domes."
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Rome Burns, Nero Fiddles (from Rude Two):
We've all heard the expression, "Nero fiddled while Rome burned." To be sure, Nero didn't actually have a fiddle. Violins weren't invented until the 16th century. Scholars say Nero was most likely reciting his poetry while accompanying himself on a lyre, but regardless, the phrase means "heedless and irresponsible behavior in the midst of a crisis."
21st Century Nero that he is, Bush stands on smoking kindling, tuning up the strings. President Bush, in an apparent attempt to change the subject from the sketchy documents regarding his military "service," re-re-re-re-reiterated his stance on WMD yesterday, moving to stop the proliferation of WMD. "Forget about Pakistan, gang, they get a pass, and sure I sort of recall serving somewhere around Alabama or Texas or some shit but it was 30 years ago and I was in a coke-addled haze -- not that it matters because I'm proud of my service so screw you and stop trying to make this a partisan thing because you know it's an election year and the fact that I was AWOL could cost me my job -- I mean just look at that liar Clinton, yeah hey look at Clinton, man he was a shitbag -- remember he got a blow-job," he might as well say.
Unlike the White House, let's be clear: Bush was no warrior. He won't admit it, and neither will his lackeys, who simply insist that the president was "proud" and "got paid." (Incidentally, if the Rude Pundit disappeared from military service and still got paid and got away with it for over 30 years and eventually became the leader of the free world, fuck yes, the Rude Pundit would be pretty fucking proud too, and would most likely fuck your sister for good measure).
While his presidency burns around him, reporters grill his press secretary about supposed official documents that are curiously and obviously incomplete (like, say, a few minutes of 30 year-old audio tape). Yet our sad little emperor plays on and on:
"The greatest threat before humanity today is the possibility of secret and sudden attack with chemical or biological or radiological or nuclear weapons," Bush said, apparently oblivious to just how many Americans want, you know, the truth about his military service before he sends more bona-fide American soldiers off to die looking for those pesky weapons no one has been able to find thus far.
"The former dictator of Iraq possessed and used weapons of mass destruction against his own people," he said, because, well, you know, shit, he's got nothing else to talk about, so why not kick it old school and keep mentioning twenty year-old history.
"Our message to proliferators must be consistent and must be clear: We will find you, and we're not going to rest until you're stopped." Bush said, sending a shudder down the spines of, well, fucking no one, because to date he and his administration have found virtually jack shit for weapons in the nearly three years since Sept. 11. (Hint: You're looking in the wrong fucking country, you monkey.) Hell, it's easy to secure a country from WMD when there are no fucking WMD. Why not secure America from dragon attacks and swarms of midgets, too? How about Smurf invasions, or Wookie attacks? And, you know, if you're gonna be against proliferation, well, stop proliferating.
Do Americans really care about finding WMD, about securing the homeland, about any of this WMD bullshit? Or do they care about something more abstract, like truth vs. lies? Or do Americans see the flames leaping at Bush's heels while he plays his tune -- the tune that we've all heard before, to the point that the melody is stuck in our heads like a fucking toilet paper jingle? (And, of course, Bush's words are not worth wiping with, as they are only single-ply and your fingers will push right through -- not very pleasurable, unless you're into manual anal stimulation, which is much like living in Bush's America.)
The Rude Pundit believes the same thing John Lennon believed: All we want is the truth. Unfortunately, seeking the truth in the White House is the equivalent of seeking WMD in Iraq: a waste of fucking time.
Rome is burning up. And maybe, just maybe, the Democrats live by the river.
We've all heard the expression, "Nero fiddled while Rome burned." To be sure, Nero didn't actually have a fiddle. Violins weren't invented until the 16th century. Scholars say Nero was most likely reciting his poetry while accompanying himself on a lyre, but regardless, the phrase means "heedless and irresponsible behavior in the midst of a crisis."
21st Century Nero that he is, Bush stands on smoking kindling, tuning up the strings. President Bush, in an apparent attempt to change the subject from the sketchy documents regarding his military "service," re-re-re-re-reiterated his stance on WMD yesterday, moving to stop the proliferation of WMD. "Forget about Pakistan, gang, they get a pass, and sure I sort of recall serving somewhere around Alabama or Texas or some shit but it was 30 years ago and I was in a coke-addled haze -- not that it matters because I'm proud of my service so screw you and stop trying to make this a partisan thing because you know it's an election year and the fact that I was AWOL could cost me my job -- I mean just look at that liar Clinton, yeah hey look at Clinton, man he was a shitbag -- remember he got a blow-job," he might as well say.
Unlike the White House, let's be clear: Bush was no warrior. He won't admit it, and neither will his lackeys, who simply insist that the president was "proud" and "got paid." (Incidentally, if the Rude Pundit disappeared from military service and still got paid and got away with it for over 30 years and eventually became the leader of the free world, fuck yes, the Rude Pundit would be pretty fucking proud too, and would most likely fuck your sister for good measure).
While his presidency burns around him, reporters grill his press secretary about supposed official documents that are curiously and obviously incomplete (like, say, a few minutes of 30 year-old audio tape). Yet our sad little emperor plays on and on:
"The greatest threat before humanity today is the possibility of secret and sudden attack with chemical or biological or radiological or nuclear weapons," Bush said, apparently oblivious to just how many Americans want, you know, the truth about his military service before he sends more bona-fide American soldiers off to die looking for those pesky weapons no one has been able to find thus far.
"The former dictator of Iraq possessed and used weapons of mass destruction against his own people," he said, because, well, you know, shit, he's got nothing else to talk about, so why not kick it old school and keep mentioning twenty year-old history.
"Our message to proliferators must be consistent and must be clear: We will find you, and we're not going to rest until you're stopped." Bush said, sending a shudder down the spines of, well, fucking no one, because to date he and his administration have found virtually jack shit for weapons in the nearly three years since Sept. 11. (Hint: You're looking in the wrong fucking country, you monkey.) Hell, it's easy to secure a country from WMD when there are no fucking WMD. Why not secure America from dragon attacks and swarms of midgets, too? How about Smurf invasions, or Wookie attacks? And, you know, if you're gonna be against proliferation, well, stop proliferating.
Do Americans really care about finding WMD, about securing the homeland, about any of this WMD bullshit? Or do they care about something more abstract, like truth vs. lies? Or do Americans see the flames leaping at Bush's heels while he plays his tune -- the tune that we've all heard before, to the point that the melody is stuck in our heads like a fucking toilet paper jingle? (And, of course, Bush's words are not worth wiping with, as they are only single-ply and your fingers will push right through -- not very pleasurable, unless you're into manual anal stimulation, which is much like living in Bush's America.)
The Rude Pundit believes the same thing John Lennon believed: All we want is the truth. Unfortunately, seeking the truth in the White House is the equivalent of seeking WMD in Iraq: a waste of fucking time.
Rome is burning up. And maybe, just maybe, the Democrats live by the river.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Of Blood and Titties:
Oh, the sharks have smelled blood and there may just be a feeding frenzy. Yesterday, Scott McClellan got the equivalent of a bitch-slapping from the media, with one reporter saying, "I asked a simple question; how about a simple answer?" The White House was "taken aback" by the intensity of the questions, and, despite Bush's explicit promise to release all of his military records, he only released a few, which show, that, much like the mob boss's cousin who "works" for the local construction company, Bush got paid, even if no one knows if he showed up.
Why this story, after all this time? Because it's easy. Especially with Kerry in the race. It's easy to ask: did Bush weasel out of the weaseling he was doing by getting into the guard? Did a son of privilege abuse the privilege? You want class warfare? How about wrapping it up with real warfare? And if Bush can be outed as AWOL or too coked up to take a physical, then all the other ways in which this administration has lied can start tumbling out. The story's got it all: our great national anxiety over Vietnam and its meaning during a current war that has all the hallmarks of making America waist deep in the big sandy.
But, remember, we are dealing here with the pinnacle of the Lee Atwater/Newt Gingrichization of political viciousness when we talk about the fuckers running the President's re-election campaign. A wedge is not a wedge unless it's shoved so far up the rectum of the American electorate that it can't think about anything but the wedge issue. Hence, Bush will come out in favor of amending the Constitution to say gays can't get "married," with an eye on Kerry not supporting it. And, if it's not bad enough that Kerry loves fags, they will probe his every orifice to say, "Look, he has a pimple. He must have gotten it from a whore."
Except for one little thing: America is not the country the cretinous, verminous, soul-free pieces of shit in the Bush campaign (and administration) think it is. You know why? Because people love titties. And most people don't care about Janet Jackson's pierced titty, but Michael Powell, as a member of the Bush brigade, has made it his crusade to wipe the titty from our memory or to punish those who would enable viewing of the titty. Powell called the titty a "new low" in primetime television, apparently having very little memory of Manimal or Supertrain. Wanna talk about something shoved up someone's ass? However, most Americans don't fucking care about the titty or how many titties are on television.
Most Americans would welcome airwaves filled with titties if they knew they're leaders wouldn't lie to them, if they knew where to find jobs, if, if, if. So the major media are not fools. They can see the tide is turning against the Bush administration in the public eye. The Rude Pundit has heard tell that John King of CNN can smell an open wound even through the fecund fragrance of cherry blossoms in spring. Let the feeding begin.
Oh, the sharks have smelled blood and there may just be a feeding frenzy. Yesterday, Scott McClellan got the equivalent of a bitch-slapping from the media, with one reporter saying, "I asked a simple question; how about a simple answer?" The White House was "taken aback" by the intensity of the questions, and, despite Bush's explicit promise to release all of his military records, he only released a few, which show, that, much like the mob boss's cousin who "works" for the local construction company, Bush got paid, even if no one knows if he showed up.
Why this story, after all this time? Because it's easy. Especially with Kerry in the race. It's easy to ask: did Bush weasel out of the weaseling he was doing by getting into the guard? Did a son of privilege abuse the privilege? You want class warfare? How about wrapping it up with real warfare? And if Bush can be outed as AWOL or too coked up to take a physical, then all the other ways in which this administration has lied can start tumbling out. The story's got it all: our great national anxiety over Vietnam and its meaning during a current war that has all the hallmarks of making America waist deep in the big sandy.
But, remember, we are dealing here with the pinnacle of the Lee Atwater/Newt Gingrichization of political viciousness when we talk about the fuckers running the President's re-election campaign. A wedge is not a wedge unless it's shoved so far up the rectum of the American electorate that it can't think about anything but the wedge issue. Hence, Bush will come out in favor of amending the Constitution to say gays can't get "married," with an eye on Kerry not supporting it. And, if it's not bad enough that Kerry loves fags, they will probe his every orifice to say, "Look, he has a pimple. He must have gotten it from a whore."
Except for one little thing: America is not the country the cretinous, verminous, soul-free pieces of shit in the Bush campaign (and administration) think it is. You know why? Because people love titties. And most people don't care about Janet Jackson's pierced titty, but Michael Powell, as a member of the Bush brigade, has made it his crusade to wipe the titty from our memory or to punish those who would enable viewing of the titty. Powell called the titty a "new low" in primetime television, apparently having very little memory of Manimal or Supertrain. Wanna talk about something shoved up someone's ass? However, most Americans don't fucking care about the titty or how many titties are on television.
Most Americans would welcome airwaves filled with titties if they knew they're leaders wouldn't lie to them, if they knew where to find jobs, if, if, if. So the major media are not fools. They can see the tide is turning against the Bush administration in the public eye. The Rude Pundit has heard tell that John King of CNN can smell an open wound even through the fecund fragrance of cherry blossoms in spring. Let the feeding begin.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Once You've Fucked a Goat:
As the Rude Pundit has said before, there's an old joke, one that goes something like this: A man is sitting at a bar, drinking, and he says to no one in particular, "A man can spend his life building bridges. Do they call him John the Bridge Builder? No. A man can spend his life raising crops. Do they call him John the Farmer? No. But you fuck one goat . . ."
It's the goatfucker theory of character. When someone does something appalling enough to change how you view him/her and his/her opinions on things. So, if John expresses his opinion on something, one can say, "Yeah, but you fucked a goat." Fair or unfair, it's the way things are. Unfair use of the principle of the goatfucker? Bill Clinton. Yeah, yeah, all that policy stuff is interesting and could probably make the country great again, but you got blown by an intern.
Fair use of the goatfucker axiom? Why, of course: the goatfucker-in-chief, George Bush. He's reached that point where anything he says is immediately suspect because he's been caught, very publicly, in a lie that turns him into a murderer. So, while strategists wonder what has gone wrong, why Bush's approval rating has plummeted like so many barrels over the falls, the answer is simple: he's fucked the goat. No one can look at him without thinking, "How do I know he's not lying? He stated something as a fact that wasn't a fact. He's lying just like his father did when he said 'Read my lip' and then raised taxes. Why should I trust a liar?"
And now every time Bush speaks, it is greeted with a yawn by the public, and it's met with derision by most intelligent people, even some on the right who are about to become rats abandoning a sinking ship no matter how frantically Karl Rove tries to patch the holes and beat the rats back into the hold. Take today's lie: in the Economic Report of the President, Bush predicts that his economy will create 2.6 million jobs in the next year. Goddamn, Jeane Dixon, Edgar Cayce, and Nostradamus would be proud. Of course, they were all wrong ninety percent of the time, but being able to see the future is a tricky business. To make this come true, the government better be paying Halliburton a helluva lot of money to build some shit in America. Or McDonald's better get busy. Or perhaps those jobs will go to all those soon-to-be verifiable immigrants/chattel on work permits.
It used to be charming, you know, all the "aw-shucks, I don't know jackshit but what my gut tells me" bullshit that spewed from Bush's mouth. Back in 2000, when the media wrecked Gore for know-it-all-ism (as if being smart ought not be a pre-requisite for the job of president), Bush was just a charming bumpkin to the nation. With the media as accomplice, Bush was able to portray himself as the Texas outsider, and, gosh, darn, America just needed some of those good ol' cowboy values like decency and strength. (Of course, cowboys also shot Indians for sport.) Check out the archives of the Daily Howler for the greatest dissection of this incredible enabling of the 2000 Bush campaign.
Now it's just so hollow. Like so many tyrants before him, Bush uses the old saw of "the ends justify the means" to defend his lies. But we're not so sure anymore, now that the goat has been fucked. It's why the National Guard Service is now suspect. Goat fucking forces you to go back and re-assess everything you believed about a person.
And when Bush stands there, tough at the State of the Union, allegedly open in the interview he asked for on Meet the Press, all we're looking for is his tell, that great poker term that means a player has something he/she does to indicate the bluff. What's Bush's tell? That's an easy one. Bush's tell is whenever he speaks.
As the Rude Pundit has said before, there's an old joke, one that goes something like this: A man is sitting at a bar, drinking, and he says to no one in particular, "A man can spend his life building bridges. Do they call him John the Bridge Builder? No. A man can spend his life raising crops. Do they call him John the Farmer? No. But you fuck one goat . . ."
It's the goatfucker theory of character. When someone does something appalling enough to change how you view him/her and his/her opinions on things. So, if John expresses his opinion on something, one can say, "Yeah, but you fucked a goat." Fair or unfair, it's the way things are. Unfair use of the principle of the goatfucker? Bill Clinton. Yeah, yeah, all that policy stuff is interesting and could probably make the country great again, but you got blown by an intern.
Fair use of the goatfucker axiom? Why, of course: the goatfucker-in-chief, George Bush. He's reached that point where anything he says is immediately suspect because he's been caught, very publicly, in a lie that turns him into a murderer. So, while strategists wonder what has gone wrong, why Bush's approval rating has plummeted like so many barrels over the falls, the answer is simple: he's fucked the goat. No one can look at him without thinking, "How do I know he's not lying? He stated something as a fact that wasn't a fact. He's lying just like his father did when he said 'Read my lip' and then raised taxes. Why should I trust a liar?"
And now every time Bush speaks, it is greeted with a yawn by the public, and it's met with derision by most intelligent people, even some on the right who are about to become rats abandoning a sinking ship no matter how frantically Karl Rove tries to patch the holes and beat the rats back into the hold. Take today's lie: in the Economic Report of the President, Bush predicts that his economy will create 2.6 million jobs in the next year. Goddamn, Jeane Dixon, Edgar Cayce, and Nostradamus would be proud. Of course, they were all wrong ninety percent of the time, but being able to see the future is a tricky business. To make this come true, the government better be paying Halliburton a helluva lot of money to build some shit in America. Or McDonald's better get busy. Or perhaps those jobs will go to all those soon-to-be verifiable immigrants/chattel on work permits.
It used to be charming, you know, all the "aw-shucks, I don't know jackshit but what my gut tells me" bullshit that spewed from Bush's mouth. Back in 2000, when the media wrecked Gore for know-it-all-ism (as if being smart ought not be a pre-requisite for the job of president), Bush was just a charming bumpkin to the nation. With the media as accomplice, Bush was able to portray himself as the Texas outsider, and, gosh, darn, America just needed some of those good ol' cowboy values like decency and strength. (Of course, cowboys also shot Indians for sport.) Check out the archives of the Daily Howler for the greatest dissection of this incredible enabling of the 2000 Bush campaign.
Now it's just so hollow. Like so many tyrants before him, Bush uses the old saw of "the ends justify the means" to defend his lies. But we're not so sure anymore, now that the goat has been fucked. It's why the National Guard Service is now suspect. Goat fucking forces you to go back and re-assess everything you believed about a person.
And when Bush stands there, tough at the State of the Union, allegedly open in the interview he asked for on Meet the Press, all we're looking for is his tell, that great poker term that means a player has something he/she does to indicate the bluff. What's Bush's tell? That's an easy one. Bush's tell is whenever he speaks.
Monday, February 09, 2004
Presidentin' Is Hard:
America has a retard for a president. A drooling mongoloid who should, at best, be locked into a Wal-Mart to clean the floors. Any objective look at Bush's Meet the Press interview demostrates that. It's not a question of what he knows, what he said, what he's lying about, what he's doing that he was told to do. It is simply a matter of objective reasoning: President George W. Bush is a 'tard. If you voted for him, you voted for a retarded man. And yesterday was talkin' time at the Karl Rove Special School for Presidentin'.
'Cause talkin' time at the special school is always fun: you get to hear how far the retards have come in their ability to use language. And it's so cute when they flounder around for something to say and then remember a phrase you taught them, like "shadowy terrorist network." Here it is in context: "[Hussein] had the capacity to have a weapon, make a weapon. We thought he had weapons. The international community thought he had weapons. But he had the capacity to make a weapon and then let that weapon fall into the hands of a shadowy terrorist network." See? It's easy. The teachers at Rove always tell the pupils to just keep talking until they remember something scarrrrry to say.
Ya gotta be careful, though, 'cause the retards sometimes say things with double meaning, and we don't want everyone to giggle. Like if you're talking about "balls," it might make everyone start to titter with excitement. So be careful with statements like "You can't rely upon a madman . . . You can't rely upon him making rational decisions when it comes to war and peace." 'Cause, you know, if you're retarded and you say something like that, people might think, "Do I want a retard making war and peace decisions?"
Retards also have no sense of responsibility. If you're on the playground with a group of 'tards and one starts to hit the other, if you tell them to stop, they give you a blank stare, with those cute crossed-eyes, and sputter, "But Tommy hit me first," and when Tommy says no, that Georgie hit first and shows you the bruise, all you need to tell yourself is that Georgie is a retard and retards never admit they did anything wrong. They think the nurses in the home might take away their cupcakes. And institutionalized 'tards need their cupcakes. And when the 'tard-in-chief was asked about the General Accounting Office's assessment of coming deficits, the 'tard answered, "Now, I don't know what the assumptions are in the GAO report, but I do know that if Congress is wise with the people's money, we can cut the deficit in half." Isn't that cute? Admit ignorance, pass the blame, make up a lie. Ohhh, we've gotta watch out for these retards and their wily ways, thinking they can get their way because they're retarded.
But it's okay, because retards are loving people. They like to give hugs. Now, they may hug and then turn around and piss on your carpet, wipe their asses with your towels, fuck your dog, and put your baby in the microwave, but, you know, they're retards. And 'tard hugs are just sweet. Listen to the verbal hugs from Bush: "See, I'm more worried about the fellow looking for the job. That's what I'm worried about. I want people working. I want people to find work." It's so sweet. It's like when the Down's syndrome girl up the street says, "I want to give everyone a candy bar." You know she means it, but you know it's never going to happen because, generally, retards don't earn enough to give everyone a candy bar. Not even a single candy Kiss, really.
Oh, the Rove Special School, where cute little retarded presidents can learn how to sit in a chair and not drool for an hour. What a wonderful place. What an adorable exercise. And remember- even though he might be able to function more, a retard will never get any smarter: "I'll tell you, though, I'm not going to change, see? I'm not trying to accommodate I won't change my philosophy or my point of view."
America has a retard for a president. A drooling mongoloid who should, at best, be locked into a Wal-Mart to clean the floors. Any objective look at Bush's Meet the Press interview demostrates that. It's not a question of what he knows, what he said, what he's lying about, what he's doing that he was told to do. It is simply a matter of objective reasoning: President George W. Bush is a 'tard. If you voted for him, you voted for a retarded man. And yesterday was talkin' time at the Karl Rove Special School for Presidentin'.
'Cause talkin' time at the special school is always fun: you get to hear how far the retards have come in their ability to use language. And it's so cute when they flounder around for something to say and then remember a phrase you taught them, like "shadowy terrorist network." Here it is in context: "[Hussein] had the capacity to have a weapon, make a weapon. We thought he had weapons. The international community thought he had weapons. But he had the capacity to make a weapon and then let that weapon fall into the hands of a shadowy terrorist network." See? It's easy. The teachers at Rove always tell the pupils to just keep talking until they remember something scarrrrry to say.
Ya gotta be careful, though, 'cause the retards sometimes say things with double meaning, and we don't want everyone to giggle. Like if you're talking about "balls," it might make everyone start to titter with excitement. So be careful with statements like "You can't rely upon a madman . . . You can't rely upon him making rational decisions when it comes to war and peace." 'Cause, you know, if you're retarded and you say something like that, people might think, "Do I want a retard making war and peace decisions?"
Retards also have no sense of responsibility. If you're on the playground with a group of 'tards and one starts to hit the other, if you tell them to stop, they give you a blank stare, with those cute crossed-eyes, and sputter, "But Tommy hit me first," and when Tommy says no, that Georgie hit first and shows you the bruise, all you need to tell yourself is that Georgie is a retard and retards never admit they did anything wrong. They think the nurses in the home might take away their cupcakes. And institutionalized 'tards need their cupcakes. And when the 'tard-in-chief was asked about the General Accounting Office's assessment of coming deficits, the 'tard answered, "Now, I don't know what the assumptions are in the GAO report, but I do know that if Congress is wise with the people's money, we can cut the deficit in half." Isn't that cute? Admit ignorance, pass the blame, make up a lie. Ohhh, we've gotta watch out for these retards and their wily ways, thinking they can get their way because they're retarded.
But it's okay, because retards are loving people. They like to give hugs. Now, they may hug and then turn around and piss on your carpet, wipe their asses with your towels, fuck your dog, and put your baby in the microwave, but, you know, they're retards. And 'tard hugs are just sweet. Listen to the verbal hugs from Bush: "See, I'm more worried about the fellow looking for the job. That's what I'm worried about. I want people working. I want people to find work." It's so sweet. It's like when the Down's syndrome girl up the street says, "I want to give everyone a candy bar." You know she means it, but you know it's never going to happen because, generally, retards don't earn enough to give everyone a candy bar. Not even a single candy Kiss, really.
Oh, the Rove Special School, where cute little retarded presidents can learn how to sit in a chair and not drool for an hour. What a wonderful place. What an adorable exercise. And remember- even though he might be able to function more, a retard will never get any smarter: "I'll tell you, though, I'm not going to change, see? I'm not trying to accommodate I won't change my philosophy or my point of view."
Sunday, February 08, 2004
Breakfast with Timmy and Georgie:
The Rude Pundit just finished watching the "interview" with George Bush on Meet the Press. He will not attempt to list all the factual errors and problematic statements (like basing the war decision on "the best intel possible," which is, of course, wrong, since "possible" means more human intelligence, etc.). He will leave that to the myriad bloggers, like Atrios, Calpundit, the Progress Report, and more. Instead, let's just offer a few observations:
You know what the worst kind of rock songs are? The kind where a pampered, rich rock star sings about how rough it is to be on the road every night, performing. Christ, you wanna say, nobody fucking forced you to play a guitar, fuck groupies, and get high every night. So when Bush kept falling back on how hard it is to be the man in the Oval Office, making decisions that affect Americans, all the Rude Pundit kept thinking was, ironically, the lyrics to Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive." Stop fucking whining. Shut the fuck up and do the job you campaigned for, destroyed others for, and finally stole.
Didn't you cringe every time Bush said the word "intelligence"?
You could so tell whenever Bush wanted to get on script: "I want to take a step back" from the question; "It's important for people to understand" that I'm not going to answer that question; "If I could" answer a question I've asked in my own head rather than the one you asked me, Tim. (Even at one point posing a question to himself from a fantasy interviewer, Bush said to the voices in his head, "That's a legitimate question.")
Every time Bush made a campaign point, he did that goddamn clenched hand with a thumb on top. Was he offering a fisting to Russert? To the American people?
In reference to his possible AWOL, Bush defended himself by saying: "There may be no evidence but" you gotta believe what I'm telling you. Isn't this the way the whole Iraq mess happened? Isn't that really what Bush was saying about the WMDs? "There may be no evidence, but . . ."
Didn't you cringe when Russert asked Bush for his opinion on the Vietnam War and, with absolutely no sense of irony, the President responded that the problem with Vietnam was that "we had politicians making military decisions"?
Did you notice that anything remotely negative was immediately dismissed as "politics"?
The Republicans are going to run the campaign of rape rooms and gay marriage.
The most frightening things Bush said? A toss-up between his campaign being based on "who can properly use American power to make the world a better place" and "I'm not gonna change."
Oh, what a deliciously useless hour. Nothing said, nothing revealed, nothing more than more of the same, more of the same. Russert did try, a few times admirably, to get Bush off-message, getting a couple of blank stares and that terrified look of trying to find words in his brain where few exist. But it would have been more interesting if Bush had simply said, "You know what, Tim? I'm gonna take a shit. You talk to me through the bathroom door while I take a Texas-sized dump. The American people put me in this office to take this giant shit in the executive washroom of the Oval Office, and I'm gonna do what they want me to do. If they don't like me shitting here, then I look forward to having a debate about my turds. Now excuse me while I go to the throne."
The Rude Pundit just finished watching the "interview" with George Bush on Meet the Press. He will not attempt to list all the factual errors and problematic statements (like basing the war decision on "the best intel possible," which is, of course, wrong, since "possible" means more human intelligence, etc.). He will leave that to the myriad bloggers, like Atrios, Calpundit, the Progress Report, and more. Instead, let's just offer a few observations:
You know what the worst kind of rock songs are? The kind where a pampered, rich rock star sings about how rough it is to be on the road every night, performing. Christ, you wanna say, nobody fucking forced you to play a guitar, fuck groupies, and get high every night. So when Bush kept falling back on how hard it is to be the man in the Oval Office, making decisions that affect Americans, all the Rude Pundit kept thinking was, ironically, the lyrics to Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive." Stop fucking whining. Shut the fuck up and do the job you campaigned for, destroyed others for, and finally stole.
Didn't you cringe every time Bush said the word "intelligence"?
You could so tell whenever Bush wanted to get on script: "I want to take a step back" from the question; "It's important for people to understand" that I'm not going to answer that question; "If I could" answer a question I've asked in my own head rather than the one you asked me, Tim. (Even at one point posing a question to himself from a fantasy interviewer, Bush said to the voices in his head, "That's a legitimate question.")
Every time Bush made a campaign point, he did that goddamn clenched hand with a thumb on top. Was he offering a fisting to Russert? To the American people?
In reference to his possible AWOL, Bush defended himself by saying: "There may be no evidence but" you gotta believe what I'm telling you. Isn't this the way the whole Iraq mess happened? Isn't that really what Bush was saying about the WMDs? "There may be no evidence, but . . ."
Didn't you cringe when Russert asked Bush for his opinion on the Vietnam War and, with absolutely no sense of irony, the President responded that the problem with Vietnam was that "we had politicians making military decisions"?
Did you notice that anything remotely negative was immediately dismissed as "politics"?
The Republicans are going to run the campaign of rape rooms and gay marriage.
The most frightening things Bush said? A toss-up between his campaign being based on "who can properly use American power to make the world a better place" and "I'm not gonna change."
Oh, what a deliciously useless hour. Nothing said, nothing revealed, nothing more than more of the same, more of the same. Russert did try, a few times admirably, to get Bush off-message, getting a couple of blank stares and that terrified look of trying to find words in his brain where few exist. But it would have been more interesting if Bush had simply said, "You know what, Tim? I'm gonna take a shit. You talk to me through the bathroom door while I take a Texas-sized dump. The American people put me in this office to take this giant shit in the executive washroom of the Oval Office, and I'm gonna do what they want me to do. If they don't like me shitting here, then I look forward to having a debate about my turds. Now excuse me while I go to the throne."
Friday, February 06, 2004
A Quick One Before Le Deluge:
Because actual, real work beckons, the Rude Pundit will be brief today.
So at what point does the Cheney/Scalia hunting trip become enough to make Scalia take recuse himself from deciding on the Cheney Energy Task Force documents? Since we now have the report that Scalia was Cheney's guest on the luxury duck hunt in Louisiana, that they flew together, accompanied by fighter jets, that they were wined and dined by Cheney's oil biz cronies, doesn't this seem a little more toxic to impartiality than the "socializing" that Scalia is using as his defense? The Rude Pundit believes that Scalia won't back off, no matter what, no matter if we get reports that Cheney and Scalia consummated their nascent queer desire under a tarp in the rainy bayou winter, Cheney telling Scalia that he loves Italian sausage, Scalia smacking Cheney's bald head and demanding that he take the "whole salami," Cheney weeping, tenderly, in delight, in fear, in heady anticipation of what would come next, Cheney fucking Scalia, saying, "Here's my task force. How do you find? How say you?" Damn, no wonder the ducks flew away, with all the grunting, flesh-slapping sounds, yells of "Watch the pacemaker," and, finally, inexorably, brief, spermless orgasm. Ain't democracy great?
Sunday: How embarassing was the President on Face the Nation?
Next Week: Welcome to Morass America
Because actual, real work beckons, the Rude Pundit will be brief today.
So at what point does the Cheney/Scalia hunting trip become enough to make Scalia take recuse himself from deciding on the Cheney Energy Task Force documents? Since we now have the report that Scalia was Cheney's guest on the luxury duck hunt in Louisiana, that they flew together, accompanied by fighter jets, that they were wined and dined by Cheney's oil biz cronies, doesn't this seem a little more toxic to impartiality than the "socializing" that Scalia is using as his defense? The Rude Pundit believes that Scalia won't back off, no matter what, no matter if we get reports that Cheney and Scalia consummated their nascent queer desire under a tarp in the rainy bayou winter, Cheney telling Scalia that he loves Italian sausage, Scalia smacking Cheney's bald head and demanding that he take the "whole salami," Cheney weeping, tenderly, in delight, in fear, in heady anticipation of what would come next, Cheney fucking Scalia, saying, "Here's my task force. How do you find? How say you?" Damn, no wonder the ducks flew away, with all the grunting, flesh-slapping sounds, yells of "Watch the pacemaker," and, finally, inexorably, brief, spermless orgasm. Ain't democracy great?
Sunday: How embarassing was the President on Face the Nation?
Next Week: Welcome to Morass America
Thursday, February 05, 2004
Oh, To Be In Boston Once Spring Is Here:
Goddamn, there's gonna be one giant fagapalooza in streets of Beantown come May. There's gonna be pairs of brides, pairs of grooms, more glitter, flowers, and butch haircuts than Boston has seen since the last time Queen toured and Freddy Mercury brought along his trunk of pink wifebeater shirts and butt plugs. Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers, the window has been cracked by the Massachusetts Supreme Court, which said yesterday that civil unions are lightweight and that only marriage would do for homosexuals. Fuck, imagine that: a high court saying, "You know that guarantee of equal rights for all? We kinda meant that. No matter what adult you are consensually fucking, you get your rights to get married, get bored with each other, fuck around on the side, and break up viciously, tearing up the friendships, property and children along the way. Welcome to the party, homosexuals!" So, starting May 16, get out your hankies. The aisles are a-gonna be filled with same-sex couples. At least until those who fear the fucking stand in the aisle and block the path to the altar.
Oh, and the fucking scaredy-cats are a-comin' out of the woodwork, putting the smackdown of hate and shame and barely repressed homoerotic desire masking as religious righteousness. Massachusetts is pondering an amendment to its constitution that would say, in effect, "We are so afraid that gay weddings will be so tasteful and/or fun that our Catholic stiff minds would be too envious to function, so we're gonna ban the act right now. Oh, and the ass sex makes us queasy." Said one deeply disturbed Mass. legislator of the proposed amendment, "I can't believe any lawmaker would want to run from this," meaning, "You don't vote for it and we'll make sure all the Irish homies in your district know you love the fags. And you probably suck some cock yourself." Of course, said amendment wouldn't take effect until 2006 at the earliest, unless a proposed delay is imposed, which seems like a long time, but homophobia and gay-bashing is the lust that knows no bounds of time.
In the meanwhile, halfway across the country, the upstanding legislature of Ohio, not knowing what the fuck to do about all the job losses there, decided to make itself more desirable to employers by banning same-sex unions. The White House called the ruling "deeply troubling," which is more than it said about the Plame name game, the lack of WMD, and Bush's inconvenient smirks at the State of the Union.
Oh, but in the Oval Office, even as Karl Rove twisted the vice on Colin Powell's nutsack for saying he doesn't know if he would have supported war if he knew then what he knows now, the re-election campaign staff rubbed their hands together in barely contained glee, slapping each other on the asses over the decision - not in a faggy way, mind you - over the possibility of being able to say that Kerry loves him some gays. Man, how that would gloss over so many things: failing economy, international embarassment, cruel cutbacks in social programs. How they think we could stomach all of that as long as the President doesn't love him some gays.
Goddamn, there's gonna be one giant fagapalooza in streets of Beantown come May. There's gonna be pairs of brides, pairs of grooms, more glitter, flowers, and butch haircuts than Boston has seen since the last time Queen toured and Freddy Mercury brought along his trunk of pink wifebeater shirts and butt plugs. Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers, the window has been cracked by the Massachusetts Supreme Court, which said yesterday that civil unions are lightweight and that only marriage would do for homosexuals. Fuck, imagine that: a high court saying, "You know that guarantee of equal rights for all? We kinda meant that. No matter what adult you are consensually fucking, you get your rights to get married, get bored with each other, fuck around on the side, and break up viciously, tearing up the friendships, property and children along the way. Welcome to the party, homosexuals!" So, starting May 16, get out your hankies. The aisles are a-gonna be filled with same-sex couples. At least until those who fear the fucking stand in the aisle and block the path to the altar.
Oh, and the fucking scaredy-cats are a-comin' out of the woodwork, putting the smackdown of hate and shame and barely repressed homoerotic desire masking as religious righteousness. Massachusetts is pondering an amendment to its constitution that would say, in effect, "We are so afraid that gay weddings will be so tasteful and/or fun that our Catholic stiff minds would be too envious to function, so we're gonna ban the act right now. Oh, and the ass sex makes us queasy." Said one deeply disturbed Mass. legislator of the proposed amendment, "I can't believe any lawmaker would want to run from this," meaning, "You don't vote for it and we'll make sure all the Irish homies in your district know you love the fags. And you probably suck some cock yourself." Of course, said amendment wouldn't take effect until 2006 at the earliest, unless a proposed delay is imposed, which seems like a long time, but homophobia and gay-bashing is the lust that knows no bounds of time.
In the meanwhile, halfway across the country, the upstanding legislature of Ohio, not knowing what the fuck to do about all the job losses there, decided to make itself more desirable to employers by banning same-sex unions. The White House called the ruling "deeply troubling," which is more than it said about the Plame name game, the lack of WMD, and Bush's inconvenient smirks at the State of the Union.
Oh, but in the Oval Office, even as Karl Rove twisted the vice on Colin Powell's nutsack for saying he doesn't know if he would have supported war if he knew then what he knows now, the re-election campaign staff rubbed their hands together in barely contained glee, slapping each other on the asses over the decision - not in a faggy way, mind you - over the possibility of being able to say that Kerry loves him some gays. Man, how that would gloss over so many things: failing economy, international embarassment, cruel cutbacks in social programs. How they think we could stomach all of that as long as the President doesn't love him some gays.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
What, Me? AWOL?:
The Rude Pundit listened a couple of days ago to the Brian Lehrer Show on WNYC when Lehrer interviewed Ruben Navarette, Jr. of the Dallas Morning News about the upcoming (now past) primaries (link goes to the audio). Navarette appears regularly on the show to offer "commentary" about voters and what they may be seeking in the next election. When Lehrer brought up the "accusations" made, most recently, by Michael Moore (with his "deserter" reference) and DNC chair Terry McCauliffe that our Commander-in-Chief was AWOL while doing time in the Air National Guard back in the Vietnam War, Navarete said, speaking for people of his generation (20s-30s) who weren't around for the Vietnam War, that the issue was a non-starter. Navarette, who seems to hold moderate-to-right-wing views, said that these voters don't feel that what someone did during the Vietnam era, during a time of great confusion, thirty years ago, has any relevance to their votes in the upcoming election. We don't care, he seems to say, if Bush shirked his duty: "I don't give Bush any strikes for not showing up for duty in Alabama, just like I don't give Kerry any points" for going to war. (For a summary of the AWOL issue, here's a quick version from Josh Marshall.) Beyond the obvious and ignorant overgeneralization in the statements, what Navarette is missing is the fact that so much of this campaign is going to be a chance to look again at Bush, since last time the press was so pre-occupied with destroying Gore. To say that Gen-X-ers won't care is such a startling desire for historical ignorance; campaigns are about character. If someone committed a crime or breaking of contract thirty years ago that others were sent to jail or to war for, then it says something about the man who committed the act.
Because, you know, Bush is soooo willing to take responsibility for everything that goes on in his administration. From blaming Congress for the underestimate on the prescription drug benefit to blaming the intelligence for the decision to go to war to blaming September 11 for the deficit (and not his tax cuts), the Bush White House is about buck-passing, refusal to admit error, and closing ranks. If Bush farted in a closed room, he'd blame someone in the next room for passing gas too close to an air vent. If Bush was caught standing over the nude, still-warm corpse of a dead hooker, pants down, bloody knife in his hand, he'd blame the hooker for slicing her own throat and yanking his panties off while she fell to the ground. Or he'd get George Tenet to take the blame, but not fire him, because, you know, he's a good guy.
And the White House is just outraged, outraged, that the AWOL allegations are being made, again. Scott McClellan said the claims are "baseless and outrageous," when, really, they've got a pretty good basis in reality since no records show Bush was there and Bush's only defense is "I'm pretty sure I was there," which, of course, makes most of us nod and say, "Oh, yeah, there's a few coke-induced black outs I'd like to fill in." And McClellan blames election year politicking. Apparently, memories are short, since this is the same George W. Bush whose 2000 campaign in the South Carolina primary used every ugly allegation short of child molestation against John McCain in order to win. Question whether or not an opponent's wife is addicted to painkillers or whether the opponent has fathered a child out of wedlock? Hey, fair game, according to the Bush rules of engagement. Question if a man who is the Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces used his privileged father in order to leap ahead of others to get a coveted spot in the Air National Guard and then shirked that duty? Outrageous. (And, remember, at least Bill Clinton took a principled stand against the war - he didn't "dodge" the draft.)
What this really comes down to is that the right, whether it's the Bush administration or columnists speaking for Gen-Xers, is scared shitless of John Kerry (or Wesley Clark). They are scared to death to have any moment when Bush would have to stand next to someone who saw combat and see how small, how very small, Bush would seem when talking about "our brave men and women in uniform," because, well, he'd be talking about the man opposite him. (And, yes, Gore did serve, but Gore was Gore, with all the other baggage he chose to carry.) And, Jesus, what a sight that's gonna be. What an amazing squirmfest. What a chance for the weasel to final show his slither.
The Rude Pundit listened a couple of days ago to the Brian Lehrer Show on WNYC when Lehrer interviewed Ruben Navarette, Jr. of the Dallas Morning News about the upcoming (now past) primaries (link goes to the audio). Navarette appears regularly on the show to offer "commentary" about voters and what they may be seeking in the next election. When Lehrer brought up the "accusations" made, most recently, by Michael Moore (with his "deserter" reference) and DNC chair Terry McCauliffe that our Commander-in-Chief was AWOL while doing time in the Air National Guard back in the Vietnam War, Navarete said, speaking for people of his generation (20s-30s) who weren't around for the Vietnam War, that the issue was a non-starter. Navarette, who seems to hold moderate-to-right-wing views, said that these voters don't feel that what someone did during the Vietnam era, during a time of great confusion, thirty years ago, has any relevance to their votes in the upcoming election. We don't care, he seems to say, if Bush shirked his duty: "I don't give Bush any strikes for not showing up for duty in Alabama, just like I don't give Kerry any points" for going to war. (For a summary of the AWOL issue, here's a quick version from Josh Marshall.) Beyond the obvious and ignorant overgeneralization in the statements, what Navarette is missing is the fact that so much of this campaign is going to be a chance to look again at Bush, since last time the press was so pre-occupied with destroying Gore. To say that Gen-X-ers won't care is such a startling desire for historical ignorance; campaigns are about character. If someone committed a crime or breaking of contract thirty years ago that others were sent to jail or to war for, then it says something about the man who committed the act.
Because, you know, Bush is soooo willing to take responsibility for everything that goes on in his administration. From blaming Congress for the underestimate on the prescription drug benefit to blaming the intelligence for the decision to go to war to blaming September 11 for the deficit (and not his tax cuts), the Bush White House is about buck-passing, refusal to admit error, and closing ranks. If Bush farted in a closed room, he'd blame someone in the next room for passing gas too close to an air vent. If Bush was caught standing over the nude, still-warm corpse of a dead hooker, pants down, bloody knife in his hand, he'd blame the hooker for slicing her own throat and yanking his panties off while she fell to the ground. Or he'd get George Tenet to take the blame, but not fire him, because, you know, he's a good guy.
And the White House is just outraged, outraged, that the AWOL allegations are being made, again. Scott McClellan said the claims are "baseless and outrageous," when, really, they've got a pretty good basis in reality since no records show Bush was there and Bush's only defense is "I'm pretty sure I was there," which, of course, makes most of us nod and say, "Oh, yeah, there's a few coke-induced black outs I'd like to fill in." And McClellan blames election year politicking. Apparently, memories are short, since this is the same George W. Bush whose 2000 campaign in the South Carolina primary used every ugly allegation short of child molestation against John McCain in order to win. Question whether or not an opponent's wife is addicted to painkillers or whether the opponent has fathered a child out of wedlock? Hey, fair game, according to the Bush rules of engagement. Question if a man who is the Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces used his privileged father in order to leap ahead of others to get a coveted spot in the Air National Guard and then shirked that duty? Outrageous. (And, remember, at least Bill Clinton took a principled stand against the war - he didn't "dodge" the draft.)
What this really comes down to is that the right, whether it's the Bush administration or columnists speaking for Gen-Xers, is scared shitless of John Kerry (or Wesley Clark). They are scared to death to have any moment when Bush would have to stand next to someone who saw combat and see how small, how very small, Bush would seem when talking about "our brave men and women in uniform," because, well, he'd be talking about the man opposite him. (And, yes, Gore did serve, but Gore was Gore, with all the other baggage he chose to carry.) And, Jesus, what a sight that's gonna be. What an amazing squirmfest. What a chance for the weasel to final show his slither.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Boobs Are Poppin' Out All Over:
Man, don't you just hate it when boobs show themselves? Goddamn, you can't sit still for a minute before some boob pops up, rearin' its dark nipple eye towards your children.
Take, for instance, Georgia Superintendent of Schools Kathy "It's My Name, But I Never Suck" Cox, and her concerted efforts to change the vocabulary of science when it comes to the schoolkids of the Peach State. See, here's a boob bursting out, saying that if one eliminates the "buzzword" of "evolution" and replaces it with "biological changes over time," like a breast that goes from being perky and scoop-shaped to saggy and flapjack-shaped later in life, then one will eliminate the "controversy" over the teaching of evolution in the classroom. One can imagine Cox, Republican, denying any motivation beyond what's good for the parents of the kids (who, of course, aren't the ones who will have to go to colleges that presumably will call things by their fucking names), sitting in her office, Confederate flag of Georgia flapping in the background, thinking, "What can I do that won't make us look too stupid?" And, of course, as all boobs will, failing. (Cox isn't alone in her Peachtree boobery: the Republican minority leader of the Georgia House of Representatives, J. Glenn Richardson, is introducing a bill to mandate display of the Ten Commandments in all Georgia county courthouses. Without a hint of irony or self-awareness, commenting on the "role" he believes the Jewish tablets played in the formation of the country, Richardson said, "We should not shy away from it, but should make our history public and teach it," which makes you wonder all kinds of cute things like if J. Glenn - please, Lord, let him be "Joe-Glenn"- wants us to shy away from things like the truth about Christopher Columbus, the real treatment of blacks in, say, Georgia, and on and on.)
Once you allow one boob in public, it's a slippery slope, as they say, to complete anarchy with boobs a-flyin' everywhere we look. In Olympia, Washington, Republican State Senator Alex Deccio called Republican Representative Tom Campbell a "nigger in the woodpile" in a discussion about, what else?, health insurance reforms. Now, the Rude Pundit is not ignorant of history: the phrase has been used often with no "racial" connotations, it has been claimed, although, really, and c'mon, intention is not the issue here. The definition? "A concealed motive or unknown factor affecting a situation in an adverse way," and it was used by Woodrow Wilson, that noted civil rights activist. Oh, by the way, both legislators are really, really white: here's Deccio; and here's the "nigger". Since sometimes boobs need a little support, here's an image of the nigger in the woodpile -- seems it was a phrase used against the Republican Abraham Lincoln when he was running for President. A little extra history lesson? It was also the title of an Irish tune and an early racist American film. Deccio has not resigned and his friends say he is not a "racist." That's the problem with boobs - when you think they're hidden, that's when you can see them all.
Certainly these days we have to trace things back to the alpha boob, the boob that opened the door for all other boobery in contemporary America. Our boob-in-chief, nipple erect with the thrill of war and violence, is doing everything possible to undermine any "independent" investigation by appointing the members himself (something not unakin to telling a mobster on trial to choose his jury). Our boob-in-chief says that Congress, who he lobbied to the point of criminality to get his prescription drug benefit, underestimated the cost (which, truth be told, Democrats said during the debate). The thing about boobs? They have no minds of their own, even if they seem to sometimes, puckering and unpuckering, sending tingles at inconvenient times. Anything a boob does, there's gotta be something else going on. Boobs do not act alone. The history of boobery demonstrates that when a boob is exposed, the exposure means far, far more than the boob itself.
A Quick P.S. on the Real Boob:
When Janet Jackson's breast was revealed to the millions of people watching the Super Bowl, the cry heard 'round the world was "Why couldn't that have been Britney?" As the FCC promises to launch an investigation into Tittygate, no less an authority than Howard Stern, who knows something about the FCC wasting time and money on "standards," said this morning that he couldn't understand how the public could be calling for an investigation of Janet Jackson, CBS, and the piercing/pasty controversy when no one is calling for an investigation of the Scalia/Cheney duck hunting trip. Strippers, retards, and dwarves aside, ya haveta admit, Stern's got a point.
Lastly, All Around the Country, Familes of the Dead and Wounded Wonder Why:
Colin Powell told the Washington Post that he's not sure he would have recommended war if he had known that Iraq did not have stockpiles of weapons. Let the lawsuits begin.
Man, don't you just hate it when boobs show themselves? Goddamn, you can't sit still for a minute before some boob pops up, rearin' its dark nipple eye towards your children.
Take, for instance, Georgia Superintendent of Schools Kathy "It's My Name, But I Never Suck" Cox, and her concerted efforts to change the vocabulary of science when it comes to the schoolkids of the Peach State. See, here's a boob bursting out, saying that if one eliminates the "buzzword" of "evolution" and replaces it with "biological changes over time," like a breast that goes from being perky and scoop-shaped to saggy and flapjack-shaped later in life, then one will eliminate the "controversy" over the teaching of evolution in the classroom. One can imagine Cox, Republican, denying any motivation beyond what's good for the parents of the kids (who, of course, aren't the ones who will have to go to colleges that presumably will call things by their fucking names), sitting in her office, Confederate flag of Georgia flapping in the background, thinking, "What can I do that won't make us look too stupid?" And, of course, as all boobs will, failing. (Cox isn't alone in her Peachtree boobery: the Republican minority leader of the Georgia House of Representatives, J. Glenn Richardson, is introducing a bill to mandate display of the Ten Commandments in all Georgia county courthouses. Without a hint of irony or self-awareness, commenting on the "role" he believes the Jewish tablets played in the formation of the country, Richardson said, "We should not shy away from it, but should make our history public and teach it," which makes you wonder all kinds of cute things like if J. Glenn - please, Lord, let him be "Joe-Glenn"- wants us to shy away from things like the truth about Christopher Columbus, the real treatment of blacks in, say, Georgia, and on and on.)
Once you allow one boob in public, it's a slippery slope, as they say, to complete anarchy with boobs a-flyin' everywhere we look. In Olympia, Washington, Republican State Senator Alex Deccio called Republican Representative Tom Campbell a "nigger in the woodpile" in a discussion about, what else?, health insurance reforms. Now, the Rude Pundit is not ignorant of history: the phrase has been used often with no "racial" connotations, it has been claimed, although, really, and c'mon, intention is not the issue here. The definition? "A concealed motive or unknown factor affecting a situation in an adverse way," and it was used by Woodrow Wilson, that noted civil rights activist. Oh, by the way, both legislators are really, really white: here's Deccio; and here's the "nigger". Since sometimes boobs need a little support, here's an image of the nigger in the woodpile -- seems it was a phrase used against the Republican Abraham Lincoln when he was running for President. A little extra history lesson? It was also the title of an Irish tune and an early racist American film. Deccio has not resigned and his friends say he is not a "racist." That's the problem with boobs - when you think they're hidden, that's when you can see them all.
Certainly these days we have to trace things back to the alpha boob, the boob that opened the door for all other boobery in contemporary America. Our boob-in-chief, nipple erect with the thrill of war and violence, is doing everything possible to undermine any "independent" investigation by appointing the members himself (something not unakin to telling a mobster on trial to choose his jury). Our boob-in-chief says that Congress, who he lobbied to the point of criminality to get his prescription drug benefit, underestimated the cost (which, truth be told, Democrats said during the debate). The thing about boobs? They have no minds of their own, even if they seem to sometimes, puckering and unpuckering, sending tingles at inconvenient times. Anything a boob does, there's gotta be something else going on. Boobs do not act alone. The history of boobery demonstrates that when a boob is exposed, the exposure means far, far more than the boob itself.
A Quick P.S. on the Real Boob:
When Janet Jackson's breast was revealed to the millions of people watching the Super Bowl, the cry heard 'round the world was "Why couldn't that have been Britney?" As the FCC promises to launch an investigation into Tittygate, no less an authority than Howard Stern, who knows something about the FCC wasting time and money on "standards," said this morning that he couldn't understand how the public could be calling for an investigation of Janet Jackson, CBS, and the piercing/pasty controversy when no one is calling for an investigation of the Scalia/Cheney duck hunting trip. Strippers, retards, and dwarves aside, ya haveta admit, Stern's got a point.
Lastly, All Around the Country, Familes of the Dead and Wounded Wonder Why:
Colin Powell told the Washington Post that he's not sure he would have recommended war if he had known that Iraq did not have stockpiles of weapons. Let the lawsuits begin.
Monday, February 02, 2004
The Average Citizen Ponders, "And I Had To Cut Up My Visa?":
So let's say you're the average 19 year-old male off at college. Part of the deal of being away from home for the first time is Dad wants you to have some security, so he gives you a credit card. You don't know it, but it's got a high limit. And your family has taught you how to be good with your finances - not wasting your money, but spending wisely. Your first year, you were really good. You went off to Big State U with a lot of money you'd saved from working hard for a couple of summers, but you burned through that pretty fast, even though you were only living in the dorm. Hell, though, your parents think, you did need to spread your wings, get that amped up computer, that Xbox, all those hard drives for the MP3s you downloaded, that poster of Anna Kournikova. And you needed to socialize - get out and meet other guys, drinking, even though it's illegal, but, shit, you're young, away at school, who needs to worry?
It's your sophomore year now. And, worse, you've got a girlfriend. So when it's time to get tickets to that Weezer concert ('cause Rivers makes your girl sooo fucking hot), you break out Dad's credit card. Oh, sure, you get a stomach ache the first time you do it, but you figure you've got that job at the campus bookstore that'll pay for it. When you get to Weezer, the girl (let's be cute and call her Conneo) has to have the t-shirt and she'd fuck your brains out for the tour guide, and you're thinkin', well, okay, I suppose, if it means pussy. So you break out the card again. And it hurts a little, but suddenly, after the show, when Conneo says she'd like you to Cuomo rivers all over her tits, you figure it was well worth it.
Now the dam has broken. Man, you become the life of the fuckin' party. For a month. You're buying the fried cheese appetizers at Chili's, you're gettin' cash advances to front the weed and keg money for the party. Shit, it's like you are the First National Bank of Who the Fuck Cares. For a month. Then Dad opens the bill. Party over.
Except you are one smart son of a bitch. You've been wandering campus, pickin' up free t-shirts, mugs, and 2 liter Pepsis because you've been fillin' out credit card applications like so many postcards from oblivion. And those cards are pourin' in. Motherfuckin' three Visas, two Mastercharges, and even a Discover card. You tell yourself you've learned your lessons - that you'll only use them in emergencies. And besides, minimum payments are easy. And, shit, student loans are simply to get. "Fuck, yeah, man. Conneo, we're eatin' steak tonight," you say, and into your new cell phone, you tell your Dad, "Don't worry. I'll be able to pay off that card in the summer."
You get it? You get the fucking analogy here? You understand how if we behaved like the Bush Adminstration and lived on budgets that would drive nails in to the coffin of our debt, we'd've been forced to live on crackers, ketchup, and government beans for the rest of our lives?
So let's say you're the average 19 year-old male off at college. Part of the deal of being away from home for the first time is Dad wants you to have some security, so he gives you a credit card. You don't know it, but it's got a high limit. And your family has taught you how to be good with your finances - not wasting your money, but spending wisely. Your first year, you were really good. You went off to Big State U with a lot of money you'd saved from working hard for a couple of summers, but you burned through that pretty fast, even though you were only living in the dorm. Hell, though, your parents think, you did need to spread your wings, get that amped up computer, that Xbox, all those hard drives for the MP3s you downloaded, that poster of Anna Kournikova. And you needed to socialize - get out and meet other guys, drinking, even though it's illegal, but, shit, you're young, away at school, who needs to worry?
It's your sophomore year now. And, worse, you've got a girlfriend. So when it's time to get tickets to that Weezer concert ('cause Rivers makes your girl sooo fucking hot), you break out Dad's credit card. Oh, sure, you get a stomach ache the first time you do it, but you figure you've got that job at the campus bookstore that'll pay for it. When you get to Weezer, the girl (let's be cute and call her Conneo) has to have the t-shirt and she'd fuck your brains out for the tour guide, and you're thinkin', well, okay, I suppose, if it means pussy. So you break out the card again. And it hurts a little, but suddenly, after the show, when Conneo says she'd like you to Cuomo rivers all over her tits, you figure it was well worth it.
Now the dam has broken. Man, you become the life of the fuckin' party. For a month. You're buying the fried cheese appetizers at Chili's, you're gettin' cash advances to front the weed and keg money for the party. Shit, it's like you are the First National Bank of Who the Fuck Cares. For a month. Then Dad opens the bill. Party over.
Except you are one smart son of a bitch. You've been wandering campus, pickin' up free t-shirts, mugs, and 2 liter Pepsis because you've been fillin' out credit card applications like so many postcards from oblivion. And those cards are pourin' in. Motherfuckin' three Visas, two Mastercharges, and even a Discover card. You tell yourself you've learned your lessons - that you'll only use them in emergencies. And besides, minimum payments are easy. And, shit, student loans are simply to get. "Fuck, yeah, man. Conneo, we're eatin' steak tonight," you say, and into your new cell phone, you tell your Dad, "Don't worry. I'll be able to pay off that card in the summer."
You get it? You get the fucking analogy here? You understand how if we behaved like the Bush Adminstration and lived on budgets that would drive nails in to the coffin of our debt, we'd've been forced to live on crackers, ketchup, and government beans for the rest of our lives?
Saturday, January 31, 2004
Taking the Weekend Off, But Ann Coulter Is Still a Cunt:
The Rude Pundit's brain is overloaded with WMD info, images of Dennis Miller sucking off David Frum, and his vain attempts to get over his break-up with J-Lo. So, before leaving for a weekend where one has to consciously ignore the huge corporate whoredom known as the Super Bowl, let us pause to look at Ann Coulter and her latest attempts to demean the manhood of Democrats: in her latest "column" (and the term is used loosely here because generally a "columnist" doesn't write in feces while shrieking about the spiders attacking her face), Coulter attacks John Kerry as a "gigolo" because he has married wealthy women. To her, this makes Kerry unable to talk reasonably about middle class tax cuts. "Huh?" a rational human being might ask. Irony, of course, is unknown to Coulter, who is essentially a whore of the right wing, and Bush, her man of men ("Oh, that that flight suit-endowed package were penetrating my anus," she must shriek when tearing at her cunt with her viper nails), is a faux tough guy who never knew anything that even approaches want or threat. But, hell, who the fuck cares. Coulter ends with a reference to Balzac, a reference that, by the way, is pretty much an oversimplification, so the Rude Pundit thinks she must have been googling "ball sack," dreaming of getting tea-bagged by Rumsfeld or Cheney, and she accidentally stumbled across a quote she filed away in her little file of madness.
Back Monday.
The Rude Pundit's brain is overloaded with WMD info, images of Dennis Miller sucking off David Frum, and his vain attempts to get over his break-up with J-Lo. So, before leaving for a weekend where one has to consciously ignore the huge corporate whoredom known as the Super Bowl, let us pause to look at Ann Coulter and her latest attempts to demean the manhood of Democrats: in her latest "column" (and the term is used loosely here because generally a "columnist" doesn't write in feces while shrieking about the spiders attacking her face), Coulter attacks John Kerry as a "gigolo" because he has married wealthy women. To her, this makes Kerry unable to talk reasonably about middle class tax cuts. "Huh?" a rational human being might ask. Irony, of course, is unknown to Coulter, who is essentially a whore of the right wing, and Bush, her man of men ("Oh, that that flight suit-endowed package were penetrating my anus," she must shriek when tearing at her cunt with her viper nails), is a faux tough guy who never knew anything that even approaches want or threat. But, hell, who the fuck cares. Coulter ends with a reference to Balzac, a reference that, by the way, is pretty much an oversimplification, so the Rude Pundit thinks she must have been googling "ball sack," dreaming of getting tea-bagged by Rumsfeld or Cheney, and she accidentally stumbled across a quote she filed away in her little file of madness.
Back Monday.
Friday, January 30, 2004
Dennis Miller Sucks Conservative Cock:
Let's give context here: The Rude Pundit has never been a fan of Dennis Miller. Any "comedian" whose schtick is to make high and low cultural references that need to be annotated like an Oxford professor's worn copy of The Wasteland is trying too hard to be "intellectual." And any "comedian" who laughs at his own jokes more than the audience laughs at them is simply masturbating in front of the audience, pretending that he's fucking a hot model ("Yeah, you like that, bitch, don't you," his smirks and giggles indicate as he grabs his crank and pretends to slap Gabrielle's ass). So, no never, not on Saturday Night Live, not on his HBO show, not during his "rants," not doing stand-up, not in Bordello of Blood. Never. Laughing at Miller makes people think they are smart. They are not. They, and he, are idiots.
And everything ugly about Miller is on display on his CNBC "show." Miller, if you've been paying attention, was a September 11 convert to conservatism. (He's never really been a liberal, with his support of the death penalty and other right wing views.) He's a darling of the right now, born again, if you will, doing Bush fundraisers, being talked about to run against Barbara Boxer for the Senate in California. Mostly, though, what he seems to be doing with his newfound conservatism is sucking cock. Lots of it. Little cocks and big cocks. However many cocks he can get his lips around, he will suck away.
Miller may as well have broken out the kneepads on his first show, with California "governor" Arnold Schwarzenegger (for whom Miller campaigned) because the entire "interview" was one sustained cocksucking, with Arnold grinning as Miller could barely get out all the praise because of all that Austrian cock in his mouth. His interview style is something like, "I think Bush is great. Don't you agree?" or "I think you're great. Don't you agree?" or "I think I'm great. Don't you agree?" while his fingers are shoved up the assholes of John McCain, Rudy Giuliani, and Arnold.
More disturbing was his interview last night with Newsweek's Michael Isikoff to talk about David Kay and the WMD issue. Isikoff, who, among other things, broke the Lewinsky story (the Rude Pundit doesn't acknowledge the existence of vile worm shit Matt Drudge), has a web story about the intelligence and policy failures that led to the Iraq war. Miller would not allow Isikoff even the possibility that Bush and Cheney picked and chose among intelligence. And Isikoff, while not arguing, certainly held his ground that, while the intelligence might have been flawed, it also served as fodder for a decided-upon policy. Miller, not having a cock to suck, didn't really know what to do. So, in the end, he simply dismissed Isikoff without really engaging him or even allowing for doubt. Miller simply fell back on his old saw that he wanted men who would kick some ass and kill people be in office to do the killing when September 11 happened. Simple facts like, well, shit, it was a Democrat who fought and won World War II never even entered into Miller's thought process.
What else, beyond the sucking of cock? The monkey? No, really, the fucking chimp in the studio that makes you wonder "Is this a parody of a talk show?" The panel discussion? Well, it allowed evil, disgusting, Ming the Merciless-looking David Horowitz a chance to spew hate and attempt to look human instead of the verminous weasel he actually is. If nothing else, Naomi Wolf (yep, the one who advised Gore, but also wrote The Beauty Myth and other books) demonstrated that a liberal on such a panel need not scream in order to be heard. Her best lines were simply her comments to Miller and Horowitz of, "You're a smart person. I can't believe you think this." Of course, she also called Miller out by asking him on Monday, "Did you read the newspaper today?" When Miller said he had not, Wolf looked like she had just walked in on Miller fellating himself in the men's room.
And that really points up a major problem with Miller: he is obviously not reading beyond whatever screeds he needs to look at in order to get it up for ranting on the show. Another problem (and, indeed, the problem with many comedians who call themselves "conservative"): Comedy is supposed to be an attack on the powerful. Miller and those like him simply give them aid and comfort by attacking the weakest (see his comment on illegals crossing the border). Political incorrectness is great. But Miller is not even politically incorrect. He's just become another lackey of the powerful, lacking insight, seeking approval and a paycheck.
And he's gonna need that paycheck for all the lip balm he uses to get ready to suck more cock. Once conservatives hear about the great blow jobs Miller gives, they'll be lining up around the block, zippers undone, ready to be serviced.
Let's give context here: The Rude Pundit has never been a fan of Dennis Miller. Any "comedian" whose schtick is to make high and low cultural references that need to be annotated like an Oxford professor's worn copy of The Wasteland is trying too hard to be "intellectual." And any "comedian" who laughs at his own jokes more than the audience laughs at them is simply masturbating in front of the audience, pretending that he's fucking a hot model ("Yeah, you like that, bitch, don't you," his smirks and giggles indicate as he grabs his crank and pretends to slap Gabrielle's ass). So, no never, not on Saturday Night Live, not on his HBO show, not during his "rants," not doing stand-up, not in Bordello of Blood. Never. Laughing at Miller makes people think they are smart. They are not. They, and he, are idiots.
And everything ugly about Miller is on display on his CNBC "show." Miller, if you've been paying attention, was a September 11 convert to conservatism. (He's never really been a liberal, with his support of the death penalty and other right wing views.) He's a darling of the right now, born again, if you will, doing Bush fundraisers, being talked about to run against Barbara Boxer for the Senate in California. Mostly, though, what he seems to be doing with his newfound conservatism is sucking cock. Lots of it. Little cocks and big cocks. However many cocks he can get his lips around, he will suck away.
Miller may as well have broken out the kneepads on his first show, with California "governor" Arnold Schwarzenegger (for whom Miller campaigned) because the entire "interview" was one sustained cocksucking, with Arnold grinning as Miller could barely get out all the praise because of all that Austrian cock in his mouth. His interview style is something like, "I think Bush is great. Don't you agree?" or "I think you're great. Don't you agree?" or "I think I'm great. Don't you agree?" while his fingers are shoved up the assholes of John McCain, Rudy Giuliani, and Arnold.
More disturbing was his interview last night with Newsweek's Michael Isikoff to talk about David Kay and the WMD issue. Isikoff, who, among other things, broke the Lewinsky story (the Rude Pundit doesn't acknowledge the existence of vile worm shit Matt Drudge), has a web story about the intelligence and policy failures that led to the Iraq war. Miller would not allow Isikoff even the possibility that Bush and Cheney picked and chose among intelligence. And Isikoff, while not arguing, certainly held his ground that, while the intelligence might have been flawed, it also served as fodder for a decided-upon policy. Miller, not having a cock to suck, didn't really know what to do. So, in the end, he simply dismissed Isikoff without really engaging him or even allowing for doubt. Miller simply fell back on his old saw that he wanted men who would kick some ass and kill people be in office to do the killing when September 11 happened. Simple facts like, well, shit, it was a Democrat who fought and won World War II never even entered into Miller's thought process.
What else, beyond the sucking of cock? The monkey? No, really, the fucking chimp in the studio that makes you wonder "Is this a parody of a talk show?" The panel discussion? Well, it allowed evil, disgusting, Ming the Merciless-looking David Horowitz a chance to spew hate and attempt to look human instead of the verminous weasel he actually is. If nothing else, Naomi Wolf (yep, the one who advised Gore, but also wrote The Beauty Myth and other books) demonstrated that a liberal on such a panel need not scream in order to be heard. Her best lines were simply her comments to Miller and Horowitz of, "You're a smart person. I can't believe you think this." Of course, she also called Miller out by asking him on Monday, "Did you read the newspaper today?" When Miller said he had not, Wolf looked like she had just walked in on Miller fellating himself in the men's room.
And that really points up a major problem with Miller: he is obviously not reading beyond whatever screeds he needs to look at in order to get it up for ranting on the show. Another problem (and, indeed, the problem with many comedians who call themselves "conservative"): Comedy is supposed to be an attack on the powerful. Miller and those like him simply give them aid and comfort by attacking the weakest (see his comment on illegals crossing the border). Political incorrectness is great. But Miller is not even politically incorrect. He's just become another lackey of the powerful, lacking insight, seeking approval and a paycheck.
And he's gonna need that paycheck for all the lip balm he uses to get ready to suck more cock. Once conservatives hear about the great blow jobs Miller gives, they'll be lining up around the block, zippers undone, ready to be serviced.
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