Brief Sequel to the Dancing Monkey:
The Rude Pundit is taking the weekend off. He once again needs to purge his mind of images of George Bush throwing his own shit at the Queen, Orrin Hatch ejaculating on Patrick Leahy, Leni Riefenstahl in hell, and lynch mobs. He will return on Monday once his anger at the Republicans in the House over the end run passage of the Medicare bill dies down to something akin to a simmering rage. For now, enjoy one last story about Mr. Monkey President dancing his way merrily through England.
Friday, November 21, 2003
Dance, Mister Monkey President, Dance:
There he was, our fearless leader, George W. Bush, visiting England, the first official state visit by an American president since, like Woodrow Wilson. Yep, there he was, all decked out in tails, standing next to the Queen, looking like nothing so much as a monkey next to the hurdy-gurdy man. And there he was again, giving a speech on the "war" on terror and foreign policy, saying such funny monkey things, like "The people have given us the duty to defend them, and that duty sometimes requires the violent restraint of violent men." Then he repeated his tossing of his own shit at the rest of Europe by saying that the U.N. was "choosing its own irrelevance" by not following him in his charming little dance for political peanuts in Iraq. Of course, monkeys always go too far. They end up jacking off in public or drinking their own pee. So when Bush declared that European countries "should withdraw all favor and support from any Palestinian ruler who fails his people and betrays his cause, " he was sadly, predictably, met with silence, crickets, nothing.
Then, of course, you put a monkey at a press conference, and he's gonna do something to embarass you, like Bush did when standing next to Tony Blair, the President stated that he was willing to send more troops into Iraq if necessary. In a wonderful "D'oh" moment, the White House was forced to correct the impression that more troops might be sent by saying that no more troops would be sent. Oh, funny monkeys and the funny things they do when you let them off the little leash. Like Bush visiting the families of the British war dead when he hasn't visited any American families of war dead. Like demonstrating to the British public just what a little bitch Tony Blair is by not giving any quarter on the British citizens being held at Guantanamo. Do you think he understood a word of what he was talking about, Bush? Or was it like the mad jabbers of a tiny monkey, screeching in your ear?
Of course, all of this is mighty tough talk from a man who was kept in a hermetically-sealed bubble, without a sense of noblesse oblige towards any of the protests, including the one yesterday involving over 100,000 people. Nope. The President is a turn tail and run pussy, as his AWOL status showed so long ago. As the vast numbers of security around him that prevented him from every having to dirty his view with protesters showed. A bubble of ignorance, arrogance, denial.
Goddamn, the ghost of Republican colonizer Teddy Roosevelt must want to shove a large stick up Bush's ass. At least Roosevelt had the balls to fight for his raping of the world. Jesus, even former president, now book end, Ronald Reagan, had the guts to go out in public after he had been fucking shot. Not our Bush, though. Anything to keep him in the dark. Anything to assure us he continues to lead us and Great Britain into the darkness of the 21st century. No self-respecting zoo should have such a pathetic species of vermin-ridden monkey on display.
There he was, our fearless leader, George W. Bush, visiting England, the first official state visit by an American president since, like Woodrow Wilson. Yep, there he was, all decked out in tails, standing next to the Queen, looking like nothing so much as a monkey next to the hurdy-gurdy man. And there he was again, giving a speech on the "war" on terror and foreign policy, saying such funny monkey things, like "The people have given us the duty to defend them, and that duty sometimes requires the violent restraint of violent men." Then he repeated his tossing of his own shit at the rest of Europe by saying that the U.N. was "choosing its own irrelevance" by not following him in his charming little dance for political peanuts in Iraq. Of course, monkeys always go too far. They end up jacking off in public or drinking their own pee. So when Bush declared that European countries "should withdraw all favor and support from any Palestinian ruler who fails his people and betrays his cause, " he was sadly, predictably, met with silence, crickets, nothing.
Then, of course, you put a monkey at a press conference, and he's gonna do something to embarass you, like Bush did when standing next to Tony Blair, the President stated that he was willing to send more troops into Iraq if necessary. In a wonderful "D'oh" moment, the White House was forced to correct the impression that more troops might be sent by saying that no more troops would be sent. Oh, funny monkeys and the funny things they do when you let them off the little leash. Like Bush visiting the families of the British war dead when he hasn't visited any American families of war dead. Like demonstrating to the British public just what a little bitch Tony Blair is by not giving any quarter on the British citizens being held at Guantanamo. Do you think he understood a word of what he was talking about, Bush? Or was it like the mad jabbers of a tiny monkey, screeching in your ear?
Of course, all of this is mighty tough talk from a man who was kept in a hermetically-sealed bubble, without a sense of noblesse oblige towards any of the protests, including the one yesterday involving over 100,000 people. Nope. The President is a turn tail and run pussy, as his AWOL status showed so long ago. As the vast numbers of security around him that prevented him from every having to dirty his view with protesters showed. A bubble of ignorance, arrogance, denial.
Goddamn, the ghost of Republican colonizer Teddy Roosevelt must want to shove a large stick up Bush's ass. At least Roosevelt had the balls to fight for his raping of the world. Jesus, even former president, now book end, Ronald Reagan, had the guts to go out in public after he had been fucking shot. Not our Bush, though. Anything to keep him in the dark. Anything to assure us he continues to lead us and Great Britain into the darkness of the 21st century. No self-respecting zoo should have such a pathetic species of vermin-ridden monkey on display.
Thursday, November 20, 2003
Because Nothing Matters as Much as Michael Jackson's Penis:
Let's be clear: in the larger scheme of things, whether Michael Jackson fucked a child, a monkey, or Latoya does not matter. It doesn't matter to you unless you are that child, monkey, or Jackson or someone emotionally or economically linked to the "molested" or to said self-destructed "entertainer." Even if Michael Jackson loves to have his dick massaged by a twelve year-old who calls him the "King of Cock," it doesn't matter. It is a distraction. And the media will make sure it distracts you. As Anderson Cooper pointed out, in a rare moment of ironic self-awareness, on his CNN show 360 Degrees last night (scroll down to the end):
"Today's announcement of charges against one of the most successful, famous and infamous entertainers in the world could affect TV news even more than the O.J. Simpson trial did. The coverage and journalistic resources involved will be simply staggering. Already producers across the nation are clearing their slates. Network bookers are desperately seeking anyone who ever knew Michael Jackson, begging Uri Geller and Bubbles the Chimp to please call them back.
"So before it's too late, we wanted to take just a quick moment to say goodbye to some of the stories that, as far as the media are concerned, have breathed their last. So, so long coverage of lingering questions about regulatory oversight of the nation's securities industries. We'll miss you. Goodbye, in-depth scrutiny of the future of Medicare. Farewell debate over the new military and its role in a changing world. We hardly knew you."
Then, and the Rude Pundit is not shitting you, Cooper took a bagged 40 and poured it out on the set, like a curb, and said, " This is for you, and all the other homies we lost today. We'll be with you again some day, on the other side."
Now, this is begging the question as to whether or not any of those things would have been covered in any depth, along with the issues on a scrolling list behind Cooper (including "Campaign 2004"), but the point was made: clear your guest rosters - it's time for all-Michael, all the time - until the next Kobe hearing, and, well, the Peterson trial.
(Of course, history has a way of insisting on being heard, even among the din of Michael, Kobe, Scott, Paris, et al, when more bombs went off in Turkey. Goddamnit, some producer must have said, don't terrorists understand the arc of the news cycle?)
Tomorrow: Bush puts on a suit and monkey dances for the Queen of England. Stay tuned.
Let's be clear: in the larger scheme of things, whether Michael Jackson fucked a child, a monkey, or Latoya does not matter. It doesn't matter to you unless you are that child, monkey, or Jackson or someone emotionally or economically linked to the "molested" or to said self-destructed "entertainer." Even if Michael Jackson loves to have his dick massaged by a twelve year-old who calls him the "King of Cock," it doesn't matter. It is a distraction. And the media will make sure it distracts you. As Anderson Cooper pointed out, in a rare moment of ironic self-awareness, on his CNN show 360 Degrees last night (scroll down to the end):
"Today's announcement of charges against one of the most successful, famous and infamous entertainers in the world could affect TV news even more than the O.J. Simpson trial did. The coverage and journalistic resources involved will be simply staggering. Already producers across the nation are clearing their slates. Network bookers are desperately seeking anyone who ever knew Michael Jackson, begging Uri Geller and Bubbles the Chimp to please call them back.
"So before it's too late, we wanted to take just a quick moment to say goodbye to some of the stories that, as far as the media are concerned, have breathed their last. So, so long coverage of lingering questions about regulatory oversight of the nation's securities industries. We'll miss you. Goodbye, in-depth scrutiny of the future of Medicare. Farewell debate over the new military and its role in a changing world. We hardly knew you."
Then, and the Rude Pundit is not shitting you, Cooper took a bagged 40 and poured it out on the set, like a curb, and said, " This is for you, and all the other homies we lost today. We'll be with you again some day, on the other side."
Now, this is begging the question as to whether or not any of those things would have been covered in any depth, along with the issues on a scrolling list behind Cooper (including "Campaign 2004"), but the point was made: clear your guest rosters - it's time for all-Michael, all the time - until the next Kobe hearing, and, well, the Peterson trial.
(Of course, history has a way of insisting on being heard, even among the din of Michael, Kobe, Scott, Paris, et al, when more bombs went off in Turkey. Goddamnit, some producer must have said, don't terrorists understand the arc of the news cycle?)
Tomorrow: Bush puts on a suit and monkey dances for the Queen of England. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
We'll Have Gay Old Time:
Goddamn, what a jubilee of jouisance must have been going on in the White House last night. What a hoedown of hate. And, in the absence of the prude-in-chief, Karl Rove must have allowed the staff to raid the locked liquor cabinets. What a fucking day yesterday was for the Republicans. Nothing this good has happened for them since September 11, 2001. Not only did they work out a deal on the prescription drug bill, but the Massachusetts Supreme Court said that the state could not deny the civil right of marriage to gay couples. Man, when that decision came down, there must have been quite the game of joyous grab-ass between Scott McLellan and Rove. Christ, they thought they were going to have to go into the election year talking about war and the economy, but not anymore. Because the Republican party is going to gamble that the only things Americans hate more than war casualties and job losses are fags.
See, you're going to hear the term "wedge issue" from the media a lot over the next few months. For one thing, this is shorthand for "We're too fucking lame to actually explain to you complex issues like the prescription drug bill, the mutual fund scandals, the move to 'democracy' in Iraq, and the like, and it's a lot easier to ook you out with images of gay people holding hands in front of priests and it's a helluva lot more fun to have people on the air spewing hate against fags, 'cause we know that fags freak you out, makin' you all giggly, uncomfortable and filled with hidden desire." Yep, the hate's started already. Check it out here. And here. And here. But what wedge issue really means is that Republicans are going to use the threat of gays marrying to turn the debate away from the things that really matter and toward issues of "morality" that have little to do with the day-to-day life of the average American. Get it? They're gonna "wedge" it up our asses whether we care or not.
Let's posit that Average American. Let's make it a man. Let's say Joe USA earns the average income, about 30-40 grand, has a wife, two kids. Tax breaks don't matter worth a good long shit to him. A break on health insurance might. Joe USA is constantly at risk at his lower middle-class wage job of being laid off, so he kowtows, works lots of extra hours, which might be cut because he's an assistant supervisor, and that can be re-categorized as management and lose overtime, according to proposed Bush administration rules. His environment sucks, his kids probably have a high risk for asthma, his wife is exhausted from working a minimum wage job to add a little extra income. What might matter to Joe? A raise in the minimum wage, national health insurance, cleaner air and water, job security in a strong economy, a strong union, and on and on. In other words, things that Democrats stand for. But Republicans know this, and they're going to appeal to Joe's much-abused "Christian" values. Sure, Joe likes to relax by getting drunk, watching porn with his buddies, fantasizing about the stripper at the club near work. "But, fuck those fags," he thinks because he's been bldugeoned with a Bible into thinking so, "they're weakening marriage which weakens America. Fuck the fact that decaying schools, lack of health care, mistreatment of immigrants, and increasing poverty is actually what undermines our 'society.' We hate fags, and we won't vote for anyone who likes the fags. That faglover can't fight the war on terror." That's what Bush and his buds are counting on.
In fact, the President issued a statement from London saying that the Massachusetts decision "violates" the "principle" that a marriage should be between a man and woman. While the Rude Pundit thinks "Violate the Principle" sounds like a good high school motto, certainly there's more important things for the President and the country to be worried about.
Meanwhile, somewhere in a closet, in a backroom of the Senate Chambers, Orrin Hatch sobbed in happiness, thinking that someday his barely repressed lust for Patrick Leahy will come to fruition, how the tension over judicial nominees was just sublimated gay desire. Oh, how Orrin jacked off in Mormon masturbatory glee, thinking, soon, oh, soon, my bald-headed nemesis across the aisle will be mine, and Hatch came as he thought about pulling his cock out of Leahy's bright white ass and shooting his load across the Vermont Democrat's hairy back. Then Hatch wiped himself on Arlen Specter's coat sleeve, zipped up his pants, thanked Jesus and Brigham Young for his still virile seed, and left the closet to go hate some more.
Goddamn, what a jubilee of jouisance must have been going on in the White House last night. What a hoedown of hate. And, in the absence of the prude-in-chief, Karl Rove must have allowed the staff to raid the locked liquor cabinets. What a fucking day yesterday was for the Republicans. Nothing this good has happened for them since September 11, 2001. Not only did they work out a deal on the prescription drug bill, but the Massachusetts Supreme Court said that the state could not deny the civil right of marriage to gay couples. Man, when that decision came down, there must have been quite the game of joyous grab-ass between Scott McLellan and Rove. Christ, they thought they were going to have to go into the election year talking about war and the economy, but not anymore. Because the Republican party is going to gamble that the only things Americans hate more than war casualties and job losses are fags.
See, you're going to hear the term "wedge issue" from the media a lot over the next few months. For one thing, this is shorthand for "We're too fucking lame to actually explain to you complex issues like the prescription drug bill, the mutual fund scandals, the move to 'democracy' in Iraq, and the like, and it's a lot easier to ook you out with images of gay people holding hands in front of priests and it's a helluva lot more fun to have people on the air spewing hate against fags, 'cause we know that fags freak you out, makin' you all giggly, uncomfortable and filled with hidden desire." Yep, the hate's started already. Check it out here. And here. And here. But what wedge issue really means is that Republicans are going to use the threat of gays marrying to turn the debate away from the things that really matter and toward issues of "morality" that have little to do with the day-to-day life of the average American. Get it? They're gonna "wedge" it up our asses whether we care or not.
Let's posit that Average American. Let's make it a man. Let's say Joe USA earns the average income, about 30-40 grand, has a wife, two kids. Tax breaks don't matter worth a good long shit to him. A break on health insurance might. Joe USA is constantly at risk at his lower middle-class wage job of being laid off, so he kowtows, works lots of extra hours, which might be cut because he's an assistant supervisor, and that can be re-categorized as management and lose overtime, according to proposed Bush administration rules. His environment sucks, his kids probably have a high risk for asthma, his wife is exhausted from working a minimum wage job to add a little extra income. What might matter to Joe? A raise in the minimum wage, national health insurance, cleaner air and water, job security in a strong economy, a strong union, and on and on. In other words, things that Democrats stand for. But Republicans know this, and they're going to appeal to Joe's much-abused "Christian" values. Sure, Joe likes to relax by getting drunk, watching porn with his buddies, fantasizing about the stripper at the club near work. "But, fuck those fags," he thinks because he's been bldugeoned with a Bible into thinking so, "they're weakening marriage which weakens America. Fuck the fact that decaying schools, lack of health care, mistreatment of immigrants, and increasing poverty is actually what undermines our 'society.' We hate fags, and we won't vote for anyone who likes the fags. That faglover can't fight the war on terror." That's what Bush and his buds are counting on.
In fact, the President issued a statement from London saying that the Massachusetts decision "violates" the "principle" that a marriage should be between a man and woman. While the Rude Pundit thinks "Violate the Principle" sounds like a good high school motto, certainly there's more important things for the President and the country to be worried about.
Meanwhile, somewhere in a closet, in a backroom of the Senate Chambers, Orrin Hatch sobbed in happiness, thinking that someday his barely repressed lust for Patrick Leahy will come to fruition, how the tension over judicial nominees was just sublimated gay desire. Oh, how Orrin jacked off in Mormon masturbatory glee, thinking, soon, oh, soon, my bald-headed nemesis across the aisle will be mine, and Hatch came as he thought about pulling his cock out of Leahy's bright white ass and shooting his load across the Vermont Democrat's hairy back. Then Hatch wiped himself on Arlen Specter's coat sleeve, zipped up his pants, thanked Jesus and Brigham Young for his still virile seed, and left the closet to go hate some more.
Monday, November 17, 2003
A Whore Is a Whore - It's Just a Question of Price:
The annals of media whoredom are dank with examples of hypocrisy. See the zeal with which our "free" press destroyed the candidacy of Al Gore while giving obvious amateur George Bush a pass. The most recent example of this constant parade of hypocrisy is the to-do over CNN's Rock the Vote Democratic debate. It seems that, in an attempt to demonstrate how hip CNN is, or, in other words, how disgustingly low it can slime itself in order to pander to some goddamn audience that isn't watching Fox "News," CNN created a much-quoted question from the debate: "PC or Mac?" Now, obviously the correct answer to that is: Who the fuck cares, you fucking geek, get a fucking life, and you could see that that's what Carol Moseley Braun was thinking. But, see, the student questioner actually wanted to ask about how the candidates would promote technology in their fantasy administrations. And she went public with CNN's manipulation. CNN fessed-up the fuck up, and you'd think, "Well, that's done. Hell, the President said his last two press conferences were scripted."
But, no, Fox "News" analyst, Fred Barnes, on the strangely queer porn named show The Beltway Boys, was apoplectic about CNN's scripting moment. And, fine, all's fair when the whores are scratching each other's eyes out on the street corner. Except for the fact that Fox wasn't playing fair. Prior to the 40-hour Senate windbagathon over stalled judicial nominees, a Republican Party apparatchik understandably believed Fox "News" was in the party's back pocket. Elizabeth Keys sent a memo to an aide to Senate Majority Leader, Republican cat dissector Bill Frist, essentially asking for the Republicans in the Senate to choreograph their entrance to the debate to coincide with the beginning of the evening "news" program with pockmark-ridden whore Brit Hume. The march didn't happen, but where did Keys get the idea, and, really, c'mon, what's worse? The planting of a single innocuous and vacuous question in a debate or the expectation that a political party will bend to your mediated whims?
In the end, this is a question of which whore would you rather fuck? The whore with the slightest remaining bit of self-respect who won't do double penetration or scat sex? Or the diseased, scabby whore who'll let you do anything to her, for cheap? Which "news" network is which in this analogy? Oh, fuck, does it matter?
Down in Hell, the pitchfork-sodomized soul of Leni Riefenstahl is a-smiling. ("Adolf, baby, could you get the storm troopers to scootch a bit to your right at the rally? It'll make the frame perfect.")
The annals of media whoredom are dank with examples of hypocrisy. See the zeal with which our "free" press destroyed the candidacy of Al Gore while giving obvious amateur George Bush a pass. The most recent example of this constant parade of hypocrisy is the to-do over CNN's Rock the Vote Democratic debate. It seems that, in an attempt to demonstrate how hip CNN is, or, in other words, how disgustingly low it can slime itself in order to pander to some goddamn audience that isn't watching Fox "News," CNN created a much-quoted question from the debate: "PC or Mac?" Now, obviously the correct answer to that is: Who the fuck cares, you fucking geek, get a fucking life, and you could see that that's what Carol Moseley Braun was thinking. But, see, the student questioner actually wanted to ask about how the candidates would promote technology in their fantasy administrations. And she went public with CNN's manipulation. CNN fessed-up the fuck up, and you'd think, "Well, that's done. Hell, the President said his last two press conferences were scripted."
But, no, Fox "News" analyst, Fred Barnes, on the strangely queer porn named show The Beltway Boys, was apoplectic about CNN's scripting moment. And, fine, all's fair when the whores are scratching each other's eyes out on the street corner. Except for the fact that Fox wasn't playing fair. Prior to the 40-hour Senate windbagathon over stalled judicial nominees, a Republican Party apparatchik understandably believed Fox "News" was in the party's back pocket. Elizabeth Keys sent a memo to an aide to Senate Majority Leader, Republican cat dissector Bill Frist, essentially asking for the Republicans in the Senate to choreograph their entrance to the debate to coincide with the beginning of the evening "news" program with pockmark-ridden whore Brit Hume. The march didn't happen, but where did Keys get the idea, and, really, c'mon, what's worse? The planting of a single innocuous and vacuous question in a debate or the expectation that a political party will bend to your mediated whims?
In the end, this is a question of which whore would you rather fuck? The whore with the slightest remaining bit of self-respect who won't do double penetration or scat sex? Or the diseased, scabby whore who'll let you do anything to her, for cheap? Which "news" network is which in this analogy? Oh, fuck, does it matter?
Down in Hell, the pitchfork-sodomized soul of Leni Riefenstahl is a-smiling. ("Adolf, baby, could you get the storm troopers to scootch a bit to your right at the rally? It'll make the frame perfect.")
A History Lesson For Conservatives:
Zell Miller, long gone insane Democrat by choice only, former governor of Georgia, and currently a soon-to-be retired Senator from that state, has compared the Democrats' opposition to conservative African-American female judicial nominee Janice Rogers Brown to "lynching." To be precise, he said that Democrats are essentially telling Brown, "Gal, you will be lynched" if she pursues her Rove-chosen nomination (for maximum divisiveness, no doubt) to a U.S. Appeals Court. Conservative columnist Thomas Sowell (sorry not to use the well-worn "Uncle" there) trotted out his blackness for all to see when he said of Brown's opponents "A Lynch Mob Gathers." Sowell, never one to be concise when demonstrating obsequiousness to his white masters, takes three columns to defend Brown.
Okay, gang. The Rude Pundit is only going to say this once. This is a lynching which, conveniently, took place right near where the President has his "ranch":
"His name was Jesse Washington, a 17-year-old black youth who was born in rural Texas in 1897. He worked on a farm outside Waco which belonged to George and Lucy Fryer. In May, 1916, Washington was convicted in City Court of murdering Lucy Fryer. During the proceedings, he apologized and confessed to the crime. At the end of the trial, Washington was sentenced to death by hanging. Residents, however, were already in an uproar over the crime. A black man who attacked a white woman in any way whatsoever during that era in the South evoked little sympathy from the public. Within five minutes of the sentencing, dozens of court spectators jumped the railing, fought with officials and seized the terrified defendant. He was immediately set upon by a vicious gang using clubs, shovels and bricks. He was stripped naked and dragged kicking and screaming to the lawn directly in front of City Hall. Townspeople had already built a giant bonfire underneath a large tree. The crowd was later estimated to be as large as 15,000 people. Included in the cheering multitude was the Police Chief and the Mayor of Waco. Other police officers also stood by during the sickening ordeal which played out in the symbolic shadow of City Hall. Washington was immersed in coal oil, hoisted up onto the tree and slowly lowered into the fire. Some of the spectators cut off fingers and toes from the corpse as souvenirs. His remains were dumped into a burlap bag and hung from a pole while many in the crowd cheered." Check out the photos and other graphic details here.
Now, whiny pussy ass conservative blathering Bush bitch whores aside, with Janice Rogers Brown, who believes that the New Deal was the triumph of "socialist revolution" in the United States and sees government as destroying communities and families and believes that the elderly "cannibalize their grandchildren" , we have the possible denial of a lifetime judicial appointment. Man, that really seems like small change compared to being immersed in coal oil and burned to death. Or is integrity in the judiciary and the protection of civil rights like a rope around the neck of the conservative movement in this country?
Zell Miller, long gone insane Democrat by choice only, former governor of Georgia, and currently a soon-to-be retired Senator from that state, has compared the Democrats' opposition to conservative African-American female judicial nominee Janice Rogers Brown to "lynching." To be precise, he said that Democrats are essentially telling Brown, "Gal, you will be lynched" if she pursues her Rove-chosen nomination (for maximum divisiveness, no doubt) to a U.S. Appeals Court. Conservative columnist Thomas Sowell (sorry not to use the well-worn "Uncle" there) trotted out his blackness for all to see when he said of Brown's opponents "A Lynch Mob Gathers." Sowell, never one to be concise when demonstrating obsequiousness to his white masters, takes three columns to defend Brown.
Okay, gang. The Rude Pundit is only going to say this once. This is a lynching which, conveniently, took place right near where the President has his "ranch":
"His name was Jesse Washington, a 17-year-old black youth who was born in rural Texas in 1897. He worked on a farm outside Waco which belonged to George and Lucy Fryer. In May, 1916, Washington was convicted in City Court of murdering Lucy Fryer. During the proceedings, he apologized and confessed to the crime. At the end of the trial, Washington was sentenced to death by hanging. Residents, however, were already in an uproar over the crime. A black man who attacked a white woman in any way whatsoever during that era in the South evoked little sympathy from the public. Within five minutes of the sentencing, dozens of court spectators jumped the railing, fought with officials and seized the terrified defendant. He was immediately set upon by a vicious gang using clubs, shovels and bricks. He was stripped naked and dragged kicking and screaming to the lawn directly in front of City Hall. Townspeople had already built a giant bonfire underneath a large tree. The crowd was later estimated to be as large as 15,000 people. Included in the cheering multitude was the Police Chief and the Mayor of Waco. Other police officers also stood by during the sickening ordeal which played out in the symbolic shadow of City Hall. Washington was immersed in coal oil, hoisted up onto the tree and slowly lowered into the fire. Some of the spectators cut off fingers and toes from the corpse as souvenirs. His remains were dumped into a burlap bag and hung from a pole while many in the crowd cheered." Check out the photos and other graphic details here.
Now, whiny pussy ass conservative blathering Bush bitch whores aside, with Janice Rogers Brown, who believes that the New Deal was the triumph of "socialist revolution" in the United States and sees government as destroying communities and families and believes that the elderly "cannibalize their grandchildren" , we have the possible denial of a lifetime judicial appointment. Man, that really seems like small change compared to being immersed in coal oil and burned to death. Or is integrity in the judiciary and the protection of civil rights like a rope around the neck of the conservative movement in this country?
Saturday, November 15, 2003
Taking a Mulligan:
It's the weekend, and the Rude Pundit is going to drink himself into a sweet, sweet, blissful dream of peace, free of images of Bill O'Reilly fucking Paris Hilton, George Bush fucking weasels, Donald Rumsfeld masturbating while thinking about an injured Jessica Lynch, and the like. He'll return Monday, fresh, ready to be consumed by the bile that is American politics. Meanwhile, for your viewing "pleasure," check out these pictures of O'Reilly selling his "book" in New York City. From the first picture that looks like a tombstone for the "book," to the photo of his fans actually pretending to read it, to the one of O'Reilly showing how large a stick he has shoved up his ass, it's nothing but fun from beginning to end.
It's the weekend, and the Rude Pundit is going to drink himself into a sweet, sweet, blissful dream of peace, free of images of Bill O'Reilly fucking Paris Hilton, George Bush fucking weasels, Donald Rumsfeld masturbating while thinking about an injured Jessica Lynch, and the like. He'll return Monday, fresh, ready to be consumed by the bile that is American politics. Meanwhile, for your viewing "pleasure," check out these pictures of O'Reilly selling his "book" in New York City. From the first picture that looks like a tombstone for the "book," to the photo of his fans actually pretending to read it, to the one of O'Reilly showing how large a stick he has shoved up his ass, it's nothing but fun from beginning to end.
Friday, November 14, 2003
Weekly Reason Bill O'Reilly Should Be Sodomized With a Microphone - Number 5:
Here's O'Reilly on his Fox "news" show this week, talking about the Paris Hilton sex video: The Factor has obtained that video, but we're not going to show it to you because of taste issues. These stills will give you an idea of what is on the tape. So let's put aside for a moment the image of Bill O'Reilly breaking out the hand lotion in his office, calling out to his producer to hit the remote because he's too busy massaging his balls with one lubed-up hand and fellating a Ronald Reagan doll, playing the tape and watching that 19 year-old piece of rich trash ass getting fucked three ways to Sunday by a 30 year-old. Put aside that image. Don't embellish it with the obvious layer of class resentment that runs through O'Reilly's work - don't think of him smacking his cock on his desk, yelling, "Yeah, take that, you dye-blonde cunt. Daddy can't buy you out of this one, can he?" Don't think about that.
O'Reilly used the tape as an example of internet privacy violations and the way in which things can be quickly spread on the web. But, and here's the deal, in condemning the video and violation of privacy, he showed the fucking stills and he made sure all of his viewers knew they could download the goddamn thing. So, to really state the obvious, he whored himself to the latest gossip scandal for ratings and participated in its continuation as a story.
The final straw: as all things O'Reilly go, he brought it back to himself. Late in the interview with a security expert, O'Reilly talks about "parody" sites that say things like "Kill O'Reilly" (or, perhaps, sodomize him). Ah, how small the world is when you are its axis and all revolves around you.
Of course, O'Reilly's always willing to beat a dead horse until it splits in two and the gooey insides come out. Tonight, Friday, on his show, Paris Hilton gets brought up again, in the context of Bill Clinton and Hugh Grant, "famous for their X-rated exploits." Man, it's good to be the standard bearer of good taste in this country. No sin at all on you. No sin at all.
Here's O'Reilly on his Fox "news" show this week, talking about the Paris Hilton sex video: The Factor has obtained that video, but we're not going to show it to you because of taste issues. These stills will give you an idea of what is on the tape. So let's put aside for a moment the image of Bill O'Reilly breaking out the hand lotion in his office, calling out to his producer to hit the remote because he's too busy massaging his balls with one lubed-up hand and fellating a Ronald Reagan doll, playing the tape and watching that 19 year-old piece of rich trash ass getting fucked three ways to Sunday by a 30 year-old. Put aside that image. Don't embellish it with the obvious layer of class resentment that runs through O'Reilly's work - don't think of him smacking his cock on his desk, yelling, "Yeah, take that, you dye-blonde cunt. Daddy can't buy you out of this one, can he?" Don't think about that.
O'Reilly used the tape as an example of internet privacy violations and the way in which things can be quickly spread on the web. But, and here's the deal, in condemning the video and violation of privacy, he showed the fucking stills and he made sure all of his viewers knew they could download the goddamn thing. So, to really state the obvious, he whored himself to the latest gossip scandal for ratings and participated in its continuation as a story.
The final straw: as all things O'Reilly go, he brought it back to himself. Late in the interview with a security expert, O'Reilly talks about "parody" sites that say things like "Kill O'Reilly" (or, perhaps, sodomize him). Ah, how small the world is when you are its axis and all revolves around you.
Of course, O'Reilly's always willing to beat a dead horse until it splits in two and the gooey insides come out. Tonight, Friday, on his show, Paris Hilton gets brought up again, in the context of Bill Clinton and Hugh Grant, "famous for their X-rated exploits." Man, it's good to be the standard bearer of good taste in this country. No sin at all on you. No sin at all.
George Bush Fucks Weasels:
What a skeevy weasel fucker George Bush and his cronies are. What hubris, arrogance, assholishness they diplay on an almost daily basis. See, everything they do is designed so they can say, "We did this" even if the "this" is nothing more than a nod in the direction that something exists. Take the Clear Skies Initiative, which guts pollution regulation. But notice they can say, "We know there's pollution" without doing a goddamned thing about it and, in fact, making it worse. So it goes, so it goes.
The same kind of bullshit is at work in the White House's "agreement" to allow only a few members of the 9/11 commission access to the President's Daily Briefing only after it's been extensively edited. So, in other words, nobody's learning jackshit about the classified material the president has summarized for him each day (and which he no doubt scans and says, "Dick, just give me the gyst of it"). But they're crafty fuckers, the White House spin machine. Scott McClellan can stand in front of reporters and repeat, "The White House is cooperating with the commission, but it will not do anything that threatens national security." And then he can say it over and over until the "media" finally know they have nothing except that spin.
Take the trip to London. At first, the White House storm troopers were trying to intimidate the Brits into limiting protest to places where Bush would never actually see a protester, but the police chief of London said, in essence, fuck you, we'll do what we want, go fuck yourselves, Yanks. And now we hear that Bush welcomes the protests, saying it won't rattle his Christ-addled, Xanax-filled brain. Bring 'em on, indeed.
It's all about the story, baby. Whether it's limiting access to the media in covering funerals of soldiers at Arlington or pretending that a Democratic filibuster on three or four radical judges is a breakdown in democracy, the story is controlled to the point that we who watch no longer have a sense of dissent, no longer believe that there's any story except the one we're force-fed constantly. After a while, someone will find a smoking gun, a corpse, and Bush's fingerprints, but all we'll think is, "It was for the good of the country. This America that we used to live in."
What a skeevy weasel fucker George Bush and his cronies are. What hubris, arrogance, assholishness they diplay on an almost daily basis. See, everything they do is designed so they can say, "We did this" even if the "this" is nothing more than a nod in the direction that something exists. Take the Clear Skies Initiative, which guts pollution regulation. But notice they can say, "We know there's pollution" without doing a goddamned thing about it and, in fact, making it worse. So it goes, so it goes.
The same kind of bullshit is at work in the White House's "agreement" to allow only a few members of the 9/11 commission access to the President's Daily Briefing only after it's been extensively edited. So, in other words, nobody's learning jackshit about the classified material the president has summarized for him each day (and which he no doubt scans and says, "Dick, just give me the gyst of it"). But they're crafty fuckers, the White House spin machine. Scott McClellan can stand in front of reporters and repeat, "The White House is cooperating with the commission, but it will not do anything that threatens national security." And then he can say it over and over until the "media" finally know they have nothing except that spin.
Take the trip to London. At first, the White House storm troopers were trying to intimidate the Brits into limiting protest to places where Bush would never actually see a protester, but the police chief of London said, in essence, fuck you, we'll do what we want, go fuck yourselves, Yanks. And now we hear that Bush welcomes the protests, saying it won't rattle his Christ-addled, Xanax-filled brain. Bring 'em on, indeed.
It's all about the story, baby. Whether it's limiting access to the media in covering funerals of soldiers at Arlington or pretending that a Democratic filibuster on three or four radical judges is a breakdown in democracy, the story is controlled to the point that we who watch no longer have a sense of dissent, no longer believe that there's any story except the one we're force-fed constantly. After a while, someone will find a smoking gun, a corpse, and Bush's fingerprints, but all we'll think is, "It was for the good of the country. This America that we used to live in."
From Rude Two: Federal Employees Are People, Too, Until They Go To War:
"You not only have a former Guardsman in the White House, you have a friend," President Bush declared during a 2001 visit to an Air National Guard base, according to a report on ArmyTimes.com. The former "Guardsman" (the AWOL coward/fortunate son variety; check out his note getting asking to be excused from duty four months after he stopped showing up to fulfill his commitment to the country) and the rest of the Republican War Machine refuse to compensate the otherwise federally employed reserve soldiers for time and income lost while serving in Iraq.
An estimated 23,000 people won't be receiving regular paychecks from their normal jobs because they were called to active duty in the name of the Bush family fortune. That's $80 million in withheld funds that will instead go to "rebuilding Iraq," or whatever the fuck is going on over there that continues to look more and more like fucking Vietnam, except with fewer reasons and somehow, miraculously, more homeland support (for now).
The message here is clear: You are serving us now, bitch. Stop questioning your government and get in the goddamned bread line with the rest of your ilk.
But let's be fair to President Bush and Dick Cheney and house negro Condi Rice. Let's not forget Donald Rumsfeld, who encouraged and applauded private employers for providing the very same benefits and provisions the United States won't cough up. The truthful message Bush should send to all soldiers is simple: "Fellas, if you're too fucking stupid to get out of active duty and/or obtain untaxed money from the private sector while working for the government, you're
sure as shit not getting any from me. Now, go forth and bring me the tender flesh of an Iraqi child, dipped in warm, delicious crude oil."
Meanwhile, the Great Oil Jihad of 2003 shows no signs of ending, regardless of the fact that it's been over for months. The silver lining in all of this is that it's just one more goddamned nail in the coffin of the huge, lumbering Republican bullshit machine. Somebody get a hammer.
"You not only have a former Guardsman in the White House, you have a friend," President Bush declared during a 2001 visit to an Air National Guard base, according to a report on ArmyTimes.com. The former "Guardsman" (the AWOL coward/fortunate son variety; check out his note getting asking to be excused from duty four months after he stopped showing up to fulfill his commitment to the country) and the rest of the Republican War Machine refuse to compensate the otherwise federally employed reserve soldiers for time and income lost while serving in Iraq.
An estimated 23,000 people won't be receiving regular paychecks from their normal jobs because they were called to active duty in the name of the Bush family fortune. That's $80 million in withheld funds that will instead go to "rebuilding Iraq," or whatever the fuck is going on over there that continues to look more and more like fucking Vietnam, except with fewer reasons and somehow, miraculously, more homeland support (for now).
The message here is clear: You are serving us now, bitch. Stop questioning your government and get in the goddamned bread line with the rest of your ilk.
But let's be fair to President Bush and Dick Cheney and house negro Condi Rice. Let's not forget Donald Rumsfeld, who encouraged and applauded private employers for providing the very same benefits and provisions the United States won't cough up. The truthful message Bush should send to all soldiers is simple: "Fellas, if you're too fucking stupid to get out of active duty and/or obtain untaxed money from the private sector while working for the government, you're
sure as shit not getting any from me. Now, go forth and bring me the tender flesh of an Iraqi child, dipped in warm, delicious crude oil."
Meanwhile, the Great Oil Jihad of 2003 shows no signs of ending, regardless of the fact that it's been over for months. The silver lining in all of this is that it's just one more goddamned nail in the coffin of the huge, lumbering Republican bullshit machine. Somebody get a hammer.
Thursday, November 13, 2003
President Bush Wouldn't Know a Veteran If One Spit in His Face:
What a sad, strange little man our President is. Did you see him on Veteran's Day, at the National Cemetery in Arlington, hand on his heart, people in uniform all around him, looking for all the world like a third grader about to giggle when he says, "Invisible" instead of "Indivisible" during the Pledge of Allegiance? What do you think he's thinking about in that moment? Is it a slight bit of shame to be surrounded by honest-to-god veterans who faced bombs, bullets, and tanks so that his granddaddy could get richer? Or is it his speech that he's about to do, where he lies bald-faced about the sacrifices in Iraq being for a greater cause than enriching Dick Cheney and his cronies? Or do you think he's thinking about last night's pie and wondering if there's any left in the White House fridge or did those damn El Salvadoran cooks throw it out?
It's really pathetic, watching him. It's depressing and soul-sapping. He won't face protesters. He won't answer questions. Every action he takes contradicts every word he speaks, especially when it comes to soldiers and veterans; if this was a playground, we'd have forced him to the ground and made him eat dirt by now. Instead, he speaks before the convservative lapdogs at the Heritage Foundation, a group of fascists so eager to blow the President that they wrestle each other nude, covered in Alaskan oil, for the privilege of a presidential tea-bagging. And there he spouts more gloom and doom, violence mixed with lies - about the number of "foreigners" fighting in Iraq, about the influence of Al-Qaeda. So much hate and cowboy bullshit that the corpses of MacArthur and Patton must want to crawl out of the grave and tear Bush's yummy heart and tiny brain into bits and drag his heaving soul back to hell with them.
But this is an ironic world, and, as the President was speaking, Iraq continued its horrific descent into chaos, with bombs going off right after Bush spoke. And the CIA, eager to fuck up Cheney's shit, has declared that the situation in Iraq is going to deteriorate, what with the roughly 50,000 insurgents fighting against the "coalition."
So we get to stare at this demi-man who asserts himself as America's leader, the kind of man who would watch a group of frat guys run a train on a fucked-up, frightened pre-pubescent girl and call it a beautiful thing and dare anyone to call it a gang rape. We get to watch the sad, sad spectacle of this man attempting to be a great thinker, calling for democracy in the Middle East without offering a plan to lead it there, a campaign commercial masking as policy, all hat, like No Child Left Behind, like Clean Skies.
And now, finally, the endgame of Iraq for the Bush Administration, with today the White House declaring that they ought to accelerate self-rule in Iraq as if they just came up with the notion, as if it was the plan all along. So what we're gonna get is a faux election, one that can coincide with the 2004 Presidential race, so we can see images of Iraqis voting.
But we've seen his face, this President, our leader, ex-coke head, ex-drunk driver, born again Christian, parent to girls gone wild, a fucking idiot, a monkey in a suit. And we know that he's masking fear, like he's gonna get caught jacking off in the Oval Office, all turned on by the Washington Monument, America's erection. He's afraid. He's running for his life. Not like soldiers in Iraq or the Vietnam that he so assiduously lied about and dodged, but like every scared child realizing that he's done something horribly wrong. Oh, the spanking that's coming.
What a sad, strange little man our President is. Did you see him on Veteran's Day, at the National Cemetery in Arlington, hand on his heart, people in uniform all around him, looking for all the world like a third grader about to giggle when he says, "Invisible" instead of "Indivisible" during the Pledge of Allegiance? What do you think he's thinking about in that moment? Is it a slight bit of shame to be surrounded by honest-to-god veterans who faced bombs, bullets, and tanks so that his granddaddy could get richer? Or is it his speech that he's about to do, where he lies bald-faced about the sacrifices in Iraq being for a greater cause than enriching Dick Cheney and his cronies? Or do you think he's thinking about last night's pie and wondering if there's any left in the White House fridge or did those damn El Salvadoran cooks throw it out?
It's really pathetic, watching him. It's depressing and soul-sapping. He won't face protesters. He won't answer questions. Every action he takes contradicts every word he speaks, especially when it comes to soldiers and veterans; if this was a playground, we'd have forced him to the ground and made him eat dirt by now. Instead, he speaks before the convservative lapdogs at the Heritage Foundation, a group of fascists so eager to blow the President that they wrestle each other nude, covered in Alaskan oil, for the privilege of a presidential tea-bagging. And there he spouts more gloom and doom, violence mixed with lies - about the number of "foreigners" fighting in Iraq, about the influence of Al-Qaeda. So much hate and cowboy bullshit that the corpses of MacArthur and Patton must want to crawl out of the grave and tear Bush's yummy heart and tiny brain into bits and drag his heaving soul back to hell with them.
But this is an ironic world, and, as the President was speaking, Iraq continued its horrific descent into chaos, with bombs going off right after Bush spoke. And the CIA, eager to fuck up Cheney's shit, has declared that the situation in Iraq is going to deteriorate, what with the roughly 50,000 insurgents fighting against the "coalition."
So we get to stare at this demi-man who asserts himself as America's leader, the kind of man who would watch a group of frat guys run a train on a fucked-up, frightened pre-pubescent girl and call it a beautiful thing and dare anyone to call it a gang rape. We get to watch the sad, sad spectacle of this man attempting to be a great thinker, calling for democracy in the Middle East without offering a plan to lead it there, a campaign commercial masking as policy, all hat, like No Child Left Behind, like Clean Skies.
And now, finally, the endgame of Iraq for the Bush Administration, with today the White House declaring that they ought to accelerate self-rule in Iraq as if they just came up with the notion, as if it was the plan all along. So what we're gonna get is a faux election, one that can coincide with the 2004 Presidential race, so we can see images of Iraqis voting.
But we've seen his face, this President, our leader, ex-coke head, ex-drunk driver, born again Christian, parent to girls gone wild, a fucking idiot, a monkey in a suit. And we know that he's masking fear, like he's gonna get caught jacking off in the Oval Office, all turned on by the Washington Monument, America's erection. He's afraid. He's running for his life. Not like soldiers in Iraq or the Vietnam that he so assiduously lied about and dodged, but like every scared child realizing that he's done something horribly wrong. Oh, the spanking that's coming.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
God, Jessica Lynch Is Such a Stupid Bitch:
What a stupid bitch, this Jessica Lynch. She could have been America's sweetheart, invited to Disney World, leading parades, hosting Saturday Night Live, selling dental hygeine products to people in her home state of West Virginia. It was simple: here's Lynch, cute, white, blonde, with that cute hick accent, and she looks just adorable in that military uniform, like she's from Colin Powell's favorite porn film, Cracker in Khaki. And then she went to Iraq, got herself injured and captured in an ambush, and then "rescued" by American troops. Christ, what a great fucking story. Hell, when we first heard about it, it was like John Wayne or Rambo, except without the dick, with Jessica shooting until her clip ran out - you wouldn't have been surprised to hear that when she ran out of ammo, she leapt at her Iraqi attackers and started chewing their jugulars until they bled to death. We heard she might have been tortured by her captors, shot, stabbed, forced into sexual slavery. Anything to make us hate those bastard Iraqis. And then came the Pentagon-filmed rescue from the hospital, with the terrified look in those teary doe eyes of Jessica, the eerie night photography that made it all look so dangerous. Goddamn, the Rude Pundit gets hard just thinking of how great America is because Jessica went down fighting and our boys in uniform stormed the doorways of the emergency room to save that wonderful, hot American girl.
Except, as we've learned since then, it didn't quite go down like that. Nope, as we now know, all of that is pretty much bullshit, propaganda, or, as we who live on earth like to call it, lies. Turns out, Jessica not only didn't go down fighting - she didn't fire a single shot. Turns out her Iraqi captors saved her life and kept her safe. Turns out that the Iraqi doctors tried to turn her over to the military, but were fired at. Turns out there was no resistance at all and the whole rescue was stage managed to look more dangerous than it was. Turns out that Jessica's story was not extraordinary in the annals of war. Turns out that the Pentagon needed a happy tale to tell and the media was all too compliant.
But we're a cynical country. And we knew that Jessica would cash in, as in the million dollar advance on her book. However, we thought she'd play. See, we so needed Jessica to play the hero. If she had said that she was sold to a desert sheik who made her dance nude for his pleasure and broke her bones whenever she disobeyed and she escaped by stabbing the sheik while in the throes of sex and stumbled back to the hospital where she prayed to Jesus every night, we'd have believed her. Oh, sure, the book throws war fetishists a bone: conveniently, when she was unconscious, it seems American doctors believe she was raped. Oh, Goddamn, that's good. It's like every fantasy of white slavery. All Arabs want is some white poontang, right? Some godless heathens to fuck in the way they could never fuck their burqa-wrapped babes. Yeah, Donald Rumsfeld must be desperately trying to jack off in a closet at the Pentagon thinking about a lifeless, prostrate Lynch, sweet ass available for all to violate. And then break her bones.
Though this is about how Jessica is a stupid cunt. Because she decided not to play the Bush Adminstration's game. She decided to actually be the all-American girl that everyone wanted her to be, and part of that is to tell the truth. And the truth is this: Jessica doesn't like how her story has been manipulated to support the war effort. See, Jessica, while whoring herself for interviews about her book, let it be known that she is not G.I. Jane, that lies don't save lives. And that's why she's so fucking stupid. Man, if she had just shut the fuck up and let the right wing, militaristic propaganda machine transform her into uber-soldier-babe, Karl Rove, Roger Ailes, and Richard Scaife would have made sure that she had the wealth of, well, the sheiks to comfort her every time she saw her own frightened face on a magazine or book or video cover. Shit, Jessica took the wrong pill.
Of course, nothing is easy, not happy endings in this world. Her book is not burning up the charts. The jabbering conservative media will start to feed on her corpse soon. It's inevitable. In one of those wonderful coincidences that gets the conspiracy nuts into a froth, Lynch's brother has been called up for service in Iraq. Maybe a sequel? And, in the wonderfully weird world, it seems Jessica liked to show her titties off to the boys, and Larry Flynt bought the photos, but has decided not to publish them since he believes Lynch has been exploited enough. In fact, Flynt claims that he bought the pics to prevent their publication. Ain't that something? How fucked up does the world have to be where Larry Flynt ends up being the only one with self-respect.
What a stupid bitch, this Jessica Lynch. She could have been America's sweetheart, invited to Disney World, leading parades, hosting Saturday Night Live, selling dental hygeine products to people in her home state of West Virginia. It was simple: here's Lynch, cute, white, blonde, with that cute hick accent, and she looks just adorable in that military uniform, like she's from Colin Powell's favorite porn film, Cracker in Khaki. And then she went to Iraq, got herself injured and captured in an ambush, and then "rescued" by American troops. Christ, what a great fucking story. Hell, when we first heard about it, it was like John Wayne or Rambo, except without the dick, with Jessica shooting until her clip ran out - you wouldn't have been surprised to hear that when she ran out of ammo, she leapt at her Iraqi attackers and started chewing their jugulars until they bled to death. We heard she might have been tortured by her captors, shot, stabbed, forced into sexual slavery. Anything to make us hate those bastard Iraqis. And then came the Pentagon-filmed rescue from the hospital, with the terrified look in those teary doe eyes of Jessica, the eerie night photography that made it all look so dangerous. Goddamn, the Rude Pundit gets hard just thinking of how great America is because Jessica went down fighting and our boys in uniform stormed the doorways of the emergency room to save that wonderful, hot American girl.
Except, as we've learned since then, it didn't quite go down like that. Nope, as we now know, all of that is pretty much bullshit, propaganda, or, as we who live on earth like to call it, lies. Turns out, Jessica not only didn't go down fighting - she didn't fire a single shot. Turns out her Iraqi captors saved her life and kept her safe. Turns out that the Iraqi doctors tried to turn her over to the military, but were fired at. Turns out there was no resistance at all and the whole rescue was stage managed to look more dangerous than it was. Turns out that Jessica's story was not extraordinary in the annals of war. Turns out that the Pentagon needed a happy tale to tell and the media was all too compliant.
But we're a cynical country. And we knew that Jessica would cash in, as in the million dollar advance on her book. However, we thought she'd play. See, we so needed Jessica to play the hero. If she had said that she was sold to a desert sheik who made her dance nude for his pleasure and broke her bones whenever she disobeyed and she escaped by stabbing the sheik while in the throes of sex and stumbled back to the hospital where she prayed to Jesus every night, we'd have believed her. Oh, sure, the book throws war fetishists a bone: conveniently, when she was unconscious, it seems American doctors believe she was raped. Oh, Goddamn, that's good. It's like every fantasy of white slavery. All Arabs want is some white poontang, right? Some godless heathens to fuck in the way they could never fuck their burqa-wrapped babes. Yeah, Donald Rumsfeld must be desperately trying to jack off in a closet at the Pentagon thinking about a lifeless, prostrate Lynch, sweet ass available for all to violate. And then break her bones.
Though this is about how Jessica is a stupid cunt. Because she decided not to play the Bush Adminstration's game. She decided to actually be the all-American girl that everyone wanted her to be, and part of that is to tell the truth. And the truth is this: Jessica doesn't like how her story has been manipulated to support the war effort. See, Jessica, while whoring herself for interviews about her book, let it be known that she is not G.I. Jane, that lies don't save lives. And that's why she's so fucking stupid. Man, if she had just shut the fuck up and let the right wing, militaristic propaganda machine transform her into uber-soldier-babe, Karl Rove, Roger Ailes, and Richard Scaife would have made sure that she had the wealth of, well, the sheiks to comfort her every time she saw her own frightened face on a magazine or book or video cover. Shit, Jessica took the wrong pill.
Of course, nothing is easy, not happy endings in this world. Her book is not burning up the charts. The jabbering conservative media will start to feed on her corpse soon. It's inevitable. In one of those wonderful coincidences that gets the conspiracy nuts into a froth, Lynch's brother has been called up for service in Iraq. Maybe a sequel? And, in the wonderfully weird world, it seems Jessica liked to show her titties off to the boys, and Larry Flynt bought the photos, but has decided not to publish them since he believes Lynch has been exploited enough. In fact, Flynt claims that he bought the pics to prevent their publication. Ain't that something? How fucked up does the world have to be where Larry Flynt ends up being the only one with self-respect.
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
An Election Is Just an Excuse To Screw People Over:
Now, the Rude Pundit is no conspiracy buff. He doesn't give a shit who shot Kennedy, he doesn't care whether or not the House of Windsor is the rightful heir to the throne, he believes Area 51 and Roswell are boring places in the middle of a goddamn desert, and, frankly, he thinks that anyone who wastes time debating this nonsense, like whether Illuminati or the Masons or some satanic intertwining of the two, along with the Jews, runs the world, oughta do something more useful with his or her life, like obsess on J. Lo and Ben or Prince Charles' cock and where it might have been.
But something weird and creepy is going on with the shift to computer voting in the United States. Since the hanging, dangling, and flaccid chad debacle, many areas of the country are shifting to computer-based voting systems, including touch-screen machines. That's not news. And, yeah, it's freaky weird when the head of Diebold, the company selling voting machines around the country, and in Ohio, declares that he is "committed to helping Ohio deliver its electoral votes to the president next year." And it's vaguely suspicious that so many Republicans, in particular, oppose paper verification of votes. Still more disturbing is the fact that, really, the programming and its code are constantly shown to be faulty and open to hacking.
Let's be clear here: after the cluster fuck of the last Presidential election, a couple of percent of faulty machines could screw the pooch to soreness.
Then we've got the first cases of fuck-ups: There's this from Indianapolis, where, in a county of 19,000 registered voters, the computer data showed 144,000 votes cast. Hell, in Virginia, Republicans are challenging results from the touch-screen voting machines in Fairfax County.
And it's that last one that's so tantalizing. Here's the Rude Pundit's conspiracy:
We know that Republicans are big, whiny pussies who will manipulate, lie, and steal in order to win elections or get their way. Look at California. Look at Max Cleland in Georgia. We know from Joe Conason, Al Franken, and others that had George W. Bush lost the electoral college and won the popular vote (as many thought would happen) that his machine of right-wing nuts would have shut down the country until Bush was declared the winner. So, fast forward to a year from now: if Bush loses, the lack of action now on the malfunctioning machines and code will lead to Republican protests that the computers failed and that the election should be invalidated because of this. And, remember, there's no paper trail.
Sound far-fetched? One hopes. But otherwise, we're in for another long slog through the continuing twilight of democracy.
Now, the Rude Pundit is no conspiracy buff. He doesn't give a shit who shot Kennedy, he doesn't care whether or not the House of Windsor is the rightful heir to the throne, he believes Area 51 and Roswell are boring places in the middle of a goddamn desert, and, frankly, he thinks that anyone who wastes time debating this nonsense, like whether Illuminati or the Masons or some satanic intertwining of the two, along with the Jews, runs the world, oughta do something more useful with his or her life, like obsess on J. Lo and Ben or Prince Charles' cock and where it might have been.
But something weird and creepy is going on with the shift to computer voting in the United States. Since the hanging, dangling, and flaccid chad debacle, many areas of the country are shifting to computer-based voting systems, including touch-screen machines. That's not news. And, yeah, it's freaky weird when the head of Diebold, the company selling voting machines around the country, and in Ohio, declares that he is "committed to helping Ohio deliver its electoral votes to the president next year." And it's vaguely suspicious that so many Republicans, in particular, oppose paper verification of votes. Still more disturbing is the fact that, really, the programming and its code are constantly shown to be faulty and open to hacking.
Let's be clear here: after the cluster fuck of the last Presidential election, a couple of percent of faulty machines could screw the pooch to soreness.
Then we've got the first cases of fuck-ups: There's this from Indianapolis, where, in a county of 19,000 registered voters, the computer data showed 144,000 votes cast. Hell, in Virginia, Republicans are challenging results from the touch-screen voting machines in Fairfax County.
And it's that last one that's so tantalizing. Here's the Rude Pundit's conspiracy:
We know that Republicans are big, whiny pussies who will manipulate, lie, and steal in order to win elections or get their way. Look at California. Look at Max Cleland in Georgia. We know from Joe Conason, Al Franken, and others that had George W. Bush lost the electoral college and won the popular vote (as many thought would happen) that his machine of right-wing nuts would have shut down the country until Bush was declared the winner. So, fast forward to a year from now: if Bush loses, the lack of action now on the malfunctioning machines and code will lead to Republican protests that the computers failed and that the election should be invalidated because of this. And, remember, there's no paper trail.
Sound far-fetched? One hopes. But otherwise, we're in for another long slog through the continuing twilight of democracy.
Monday, November 10, 2003
The Devil Is a Vicious Bastard, and He's Coming for Republican Souls, Oh, So Yummy:
The Rude Pundit knows the Devil. Not your red-tailed, pitchfork holdin', horn headed one that fundamentalists and children believe in. The real Devil, the one who shows up when you've been fucking around in ways that only the Devil ought to be. Oh, the Rude Pundit has met the Devil on a number of occasions, and he knows that the Devil always wins. Don't dance with Devil unless you are ready for the flames that will inevitably lap at your feet.
The Devil makes sure that Jeffrey Dahmer gets the broomstick beating death, the Devil gives Ronald Reagan Alzheimer's and slowly dines on the bits of brain that fall out, and the Devil has been busy lately. And all signs are the Devil wants his due from the Republicans and other sons-of-bitches in the world. And when it's time to pay the Devil, just drop your pants and wait for the searing pain of his hooked cock tearing your sphincter.
Take, for example, Saudi Arabia and the House of Saud. For years, the depraved and immensely wealthy ruling family has kept Saudi Arabia in a state of dictatorship and barbarism that would make Saddam Hussein proud. And all of that would have been fine and dandy for most of the madcap fundamentalist Muslims, especially those who were financed by the wealthy and depraved Saudis, except for this: the House of Saud agreed to dance with the United States in order to maintain all of its power and wealth and the U.S. merrily enjoyed the waltz of oil and terrorist funding until, of course, the Devil decided to call in his marker on September 11, 2001. And for any simpleton who believes otherwise, Saudi Arabia was the major player in the attacks that day. Now that we've had our second attack in Riyadh by (presumably) Al-Qaeda, we can assume that the end is near for the house of Saud, that, like the Romanovs in a century long past, it's only a matter of time before the public executions move on to sheiks and princes who thought they were so safe, that oil and money would protect them from the angry rabble who want their own power. And, don't worry, Israel, the Devil is giving your ledger a good long look.
It's not just overseas that the Devil is giving a good sodomizing to the powerful. Here in the United States, the bill has come due on the vicious right-wing policies that have been destroying America. In the first of what will more than likely be a torrential downpour of proof of the failure of the right in this country, states are discovering that the draconian sentences they've been imposing on "criminals" for years is actually beginning to drain their coffers. So, let's see, you mean minimum sentencing, three strikes, cuts in rehab programs, and limited paroles actually means we have to pay for criminals to stay in jail? Man, let's send those fuckers to Iraq, where at least they can die for their countries. The Rude Pundit looks forward to the day that some idiot tries to raise taxes to pay for more prisons.
Let's not even get started on all the ways in which the environmental policies of the Republicans in America are destroying us, stomping all Americans like so many grapes in a vat of sweet, blood red wine to be drunk later out of the gold goblets of corporate executives, cheering as Gale Norton does a little striptease for them, tossing out lawsuits and regulations like so many g-strings and pasties. Oh, the Devil loves the dancing.
There's a big fucking bill coming due in America, maybe not now, maybe not even in the next election, but the lies are being exposed over and over, even as those in power lie about the lying. The Devil will have his way. It just works that way. Ask anyone, from Uday Hussein to Mussolini to Ceaucescu to George Bush, Sr. Eventually the Devil shows up and says, "Bend over while I fuck your soul free from your useless body."
The Rude Pundit knows the Devil. Not your red-tailed, pitchfork holdin', horn headed one that fundamentalists and children believe in. The real Devil, the one who shows up when you've been fucking around in ways that only the Devil ought to be. Oh, the Rude Pundit has met the Devil on a number of occasions, and he knows that the Devil always wins. Don't dance with Devil unless you are ready for the flames that will inevitably lap at your feet.
The Devil makes sure that Jeffrey Dahmer gets the broomstick beating death, the Devil gives Ronald Reagan Alzheimer's and slowly dines on the bits of brain that fall out, and the Devil has been busy lately. And all signs are the Devil wants his due from the Republicans and other sons-of-bitches in the world. And when it's time to pay the Devil, just drop your pants and wait for the searing pain of his hooked cock tearing your sphincter.
Take, for example, Saudi Arabia and the House of Saud. For years, the depraved and immensely wealthy ruling family has kept Saudi Arabia in a state of dictatorship and barbarism that would make Saddam Hussein proud. And all of that would have been fine and dandy for most of the madcap fundamentalist Muslims, especially those who were financed by the wealthy and depraved Saudis, except for this: the House of Saud agreed to dance with the United States in order to maintain all of its power and wealth and the U.S. merrily enjoyed the waltz of oil and terrorist funding until, of course, the Devil decided to call in his marker on September 11, 2001. And for any simpleton who believes otherwise, Saudi Arabia was the major player in the attacks that day. Now that we've had our second attack in Riyadh by (presumably) Al-Qaeda, we can assume that the end is near for the house of Saud, that, like the Romanovs in a century long past, it's only a matter of time before the public executions move on to sheiks and princes who thought they were so safe, that oil and money would protect them from the angry rabble who want their own power. And, don't worry, Israel, the Devil is giving your ledger a good long look.
It's not just overseas that the Devil is giving a good sodomizing to the powerful. Here in the United States, the bill has come due on the vicious right-wing policies that have been destroying America. In the first of what will more than likely be a torrential downpour of proof of the failure of the right in this country, states are discovering that the draconian sentences they've been imposing on "criminals" for years is actually beginning to drain their coffers. So, let's see, you mean minimum sentencing, three strikes, cuts in rehab programs, and limited paroles actually means we have to pay for criminals to stay in jail? Man, let's send those fuckers to Iraq, where at least they can die for their countries. The Rude Pundit looks forward to the day that some idiot tries to raise taxes to pay for more prisons.
Let's not even get started on all the ways in which the environmental policies of the Republicans in America are destroying us, stomping all Americans like so many grapes in a vat of sweet, blood red wine to be drunk later out of the gold goblets of corporate executives, cheering as Gale Norton does a little striptease for them, tossing out lawsuits and regulations like so many g-strings and pasties. Oh, the Devil loves the dancing.
There's a big fucking bill coming due in America, maybe not now, maybe not even in the next election, but the lies are being exposed over and over, even as those in power lie about the lying. The Devil will have his way. It just works that way. Ask anyone, from Uday Hussein to Mussolini to Ceaucescu to George Bush, Sr. Eventually the Devil shows up and says, "Bend over while I fuck your soul free from your useless body."
Sunday, November 09, 2003
Saturday, November 08, 2003
Republicans Are Pussies, Big Wet Pussies Who Need To Be Fucked:
You know what the worst kind of pussy is? The worst kind of pussy is the pussy who tries to act like he's not a pussy. When a pussy tries to act like a bully, it just reveals how much of a pussy said pussy actually is. And you know what? Republicans in Congress are the worst kind of pussies. Here's another entry in the constant parade of shame:
Bill Frist, Senate Majority Leader and cat torturer, has halted the Senate Intelligence Committee's investigation of the Bush Administrations criminal behavior pre-Iraq war. That's because someone dug around in the garbage cans outside Democratic Senator Jay Rockefeller's office and found the draft of a memo that, simply put, said, "Gee, maybe the Republicans are trying to cover up the lies of the White House and maybe Democrats oughta investigate this themselves." That's it. That simple. Now, Republicans are indignant, puffed up with rage, their saggy balls all atwitter with anticipated evil, and they are, and, no, this is not a joke, demanding that, in order for any investigation to continue, the memo writer must "identify himself or herself . . . disavow this partisan attack in its entirety" and deliver "a personal apology" to Republican Senator Pat Roberts, chairman of the Select Committee on Intelligence and White House semen bucket.
So let's see if we can figure this out, kids: Somebody in the White House leaked the name of a CIA undercover operative to the press in order to smear and silence a career diplomat, putting the operative and her contacts abroad in possible life-threatening danger (remember the Plame affair? No? Because you're not supposed to. Your short attention span is the currency of the political right). Not only is there no call for an investigation beyond the obviously partisan Justice Department action, but Republicans don't call for the President to question his own goddamn people and out the leaker. But here, a Democratic staff member suggests ways that Democrats might be able to get at the truth of lies that are killing Americans on a daily basis, and Republicans use this as an excuse to demonstrate to the American people just how much they don't want anything remotely related to the truth to come out.
Why don't we just let the Republicans line up at the National Mall and, one by one, they can jack off on the Constitution and use the Declaration of Independence to wipe their dicks? And, for the Republican women, who ought to have less shame than a porn star at a gang fuck convention, they can roll it up and fuck themselves with it. And they can do this under the watchful eyes of the White House staff, who, smiling like Caligula finding his sister and her horse in his bed, can applaud with each ejaculation that smears the ink away.
Remember: the Republican Party is filled with contempt for the vast majority of the American public. They are pussies, punks who act like they have any honor or decency. Back in the good old days, people who acted with such craven, vile, loathsome shame, upon discovery, would do the honorable thing and kill themselves. Oh, that the chambers of Congress would bleed with all the swords fallen upon.
You know what the worst kind of pussy is? The worst kind of pussy is the pussy who tries to act like he's not a pussy. When a pussy tries to act like a bully, it just reveals how much of a pussy said pussy actually is. And you know what? Republicans in Congress are the worst kind of pussies. Here's another entry in the constant parade of shame:
Bill Frist, Senate Majority Leader and cat torturer, has halted the Senate Intelligence Committee's investigation of the Bush Administrations criminal behavior pre-Iraq war. That's because someone dug around in the garbage cans outside Democratic Senator Jay Rockefeller's office and found the draft of a memo that, simply put, said, "Gee, maybe the Republicans are trying to cover up the lies of the White House and maybe Democrats oughta investigate this themselves." That's it. That simple. Now, Republicans are indignant, puffed up with rage, their saggy balls all atwitter with anticipated evil, and they are, and, no, this is not a joke, demanding that, in order for any investigation to continue, the memo writer must "identify himself or herself . . . disavow this partisan attack in its entirety" and deliver "a personal apology" to Republican Senator Pat Roberts, chairman of the Select Committee on Intelligence and White House semen bucket.
So let's see if we can figure this out, kids: Somebody in the White House leaked the name of a CIA undercover operative to the press in order to smear and silence a career diplomat, putting the operative and her contacts abroad in possible life-threatening danger (remember the Plame affair? No? Because you're not supposed to. Your short attention span is the currency of the political right). Not only is there no call for an investigation beyond the obviously partisan Justice Department action, but Republicans don't call for the President to question his own goddamn people and out the leaker. But here, a Democratic staff member suggests ways that Democrats might be able to get at the truth of lies that are killing Americans on a daily basis, and Republicans use this as an excuse to demonstrate to the American people just how much they don't want anything remotely related to the truth to come out.
Why don't we just let the Republicans line up at the National Mall and, one by one, they can jack off on the Constitution and use the Declaration of Independence to wipe their dicks? And, for the Republican women, who ought to have less shame than a porn star at a gang fuck convention, they can roll it up and fuck themselves with it. And they can do this under the watchful eyes of the White House staff, who, smiling like Caligula finding his sister and her horse in his bed, can applaud with each ejaculation that smears the ink away.
Remember: the Republican Party is filled with contempt for the vast majority of the American public. They are pussies, punks who act like they have any honor or decency. Back in the good old days, people who acted with such craven, vile, loathsome shame, upon discovery, would do the honorable thing and kill themselves. Oh, that the chambers of Congress would bleed with all the swords fallen upon.
Friday, November 07, 2003
Why Ann Coulter Is Still a Cunt, Part 5:
Because while on Hardball on MSNBC on Tuesday night, Chris Matthews engaged the lunatic blonde in a "discussion" about the cancellation of the Reagan miniseries. Coulter offered as an example of leftist bias in films about right-wing icons the film Patton , which she kept insisting was intended to bash the slapping general, simply stating that it's "well-known." Then she attempted to revise Hollywood history by implying that the reason George C. Scott skipped the Oscars that year was because the film wasn't the anti-Patton film he had thought he was making. Luckily, the recently (and strangely) left-shifting Matthews bitch smacks Coulter by telling her the real reason Scott declined his award (he hated the "meat parade" of the ceremony). Of course, Coulter, unfazed by truth, simply stared blankly, wondering if she'd now be forced to blow the host. Again.
Because while on Hardball on MSNBC on Tuesday night, Chris Matthews engaged the lunatic blonde in a "discussion" about the cancellation of the Reagan miniseries. Coulter offered as an example of leftist bias in films about right-wing icons the film Patton , which she kept insisting was intended to bash the slapping general, simply stating that it's "well-known." Then she attempted to revise Hollywood history by implying that the reason George C. Scott skipped the Oscars that year was because the film wasn't the anti-Patton film he had thought he was making. Luckily, the recently (and strangely) left-shifting Matthews bitch smacks Coulter by telling her the real reason Scott declined his award (he hated the "meat parade" of the ceremony). Of course, Coulter, unfazed by truth, simply stared blankly, wondering if she'd now be forced to blow the host. Again.
Hey, If I Can't Abort It, I Better Get a Tax Break:
You know, the Rude Pundit looks forward to the day that one of the Bush daughters gets knocked up after a particularly intense session of snorting coke off the cock tip of her large African boyfriend and fucking him hard to get the last little milligram into her system. Man, faster than you can say, "Reproductive rights" Jenna or Barbara will have a Hoover stuffed in her kooz to get rid of that fetus. Yeah, the day that story or anything like that comes out, women's rights advocates can shake their heads knowingly and just think, That's why they call it "choice," asshole. But meanwhile, there's an election approaching next year, so it's time for all the lies and malice the Republicans can muster in their evil quest to strip all rights away except the right to go to the church of their choice and the right to shut the fuck up or it's solitary for you, motherfucker. So, with no irony whatsoever, what with a war going on and all the death penalty crimes and Guantanamo torture, our "President" proclaimed, "America stands for liberty, for the pursuit of happiness and for the unalienable right of life. This right to life cannot be granted or denied by government because it does not come from government, it comes from the creator of life," except of course when you cross us, then, fuck the creator - your ass is ours. And, in a truly repulsive photo, Bush smiled, as did the robotronic lackeys behind him, when he signed the bill into law. What contempt these idiots have for us. Look at those smiles, the nascent evil just waiting to burst out of Orrin Hatch, Bush's smile of "See what I did, Ma!" so she can maybe hug him. In the audience, among other medical professionals, was the Reverend Jerry Falwell, looking like he just ate a big ol' bowl of nanner puddin' balanced on his gelatinous thighs.
Here's the deal: less than one percent of all abortions take place after the twentieth week. How many of those do you think are elective (that is, no one's gonna die or be horribly deformed)? Very, very few. Is dilation and extraction (which is the real name of "partial birth" abortion) the safest procedure? No, but, then again, there's quite a few medical procedures that have risks of damage and complications, like, let's say, ball park figure here, almost all. But conservatives, in their desire to control all things about the body because they fear the fucking, don't give a damn. Because they have constituents to pleasure, and nothing feels as good as the hand job of a bill limiting access to abortion.
And, really, the endgame here is declaring a fetus a human being. If that day comes, then the Rude Pundit wants his goddamn tax credit on the "human" inside any woman he's knocked up in the last year.
You know, the Rude Pundit looks forward to the day that one of the Bush daughters gets knocked up after a particularly intense session of snorting coke off the cock tip of her large African boyfriend and fucking him hard to get the last little milligram into her system. Man, faster than you can say, "Reproductive rights" Jenna or Barbara will have a Hoover stuffed in her kooz to get rid of that fetus. Yeah, the day that story or anything like that comes out, women's rights advocates can shake their heads knowingly and just think, That's why they call it "choice," asshole. But meanwhile, there's an election approaching next year, so it's time for all the lies and malice the Republicans can muster in their evil quest to strip all rights away except the right to go to the church of their choice and the right to shut the fuck up or it's solitary for you, motherfucker. So, with no irony whatsoever, what with a war going on and all the death penalty crimes and Guantanamo torture, our "President" proclaimed, "America stands for liberty, for the pursuit of happiness and for the unalienable right of life. This right to life cannot be granted or denied by government because it does not come from government, it comes from the creator of life," except of course when you cross us, then, fuck the creator - your ass is ours. And, in a truly repulsive photo, Bush smiled, as did the robotronic lackeys behind him, when he signed the bill into law. What contempt these idiots have for us. Look at those smiles, the nascent evil just waiting to burst out of Orrin Hatch, Bush's smile of "See what I did, Ma!" so she can maybe hug him. In the audience, among other medical professionals, was the Reverend Jerry Falwell, looking like he just ate a big ol' bowl of nanner puddin' balanced on his gelatinous thighs.
Here's the deal: less than one percent of all abortions take place after the twentieth week. How many of those do you think are elective (that is, no one's gonna die or be horribly deformed)? Very, very few. Is dilation and extraction (which is the real name of "partial birth" abortion) the safest procedure? No, but, then again, there's quite a few medical procedures that have risks of damage and complications, like, let's say, ball park figure here, almost all. But conservatives, in their desire to control all things about the body because they fear the fucking, don't give a damn. Because they have constituents to pleasure, and nothing feels as good as the hand job of a bill limiting access to abortion.
And, really, the endgame here is declaring a fetus a human being. If that day comes, then the Rude Pundit wants his goddamn tax credit on the "human" inside any woman he's knocked up in the last year.
Thursday, November 06, 2003
Connect the Dots of Disgrace:
Okay, gang, this one is for the idiots: follow the bouncing ball of shame - Republicans have gotten sand in their vaginas over the leak of a draft memo to Sean Hannity, Fox "news" talk host and Alan Colmes' rapist. The Republicans, who a few months ago were crowing over the possibility of using the President's flyboy stunt on the aircraft carrier in campaign commercials, are shocked, shocked, mind you, over the possibility of Democrats saying that the President had "dubious motives" in going to war in Iraq and that, perhaps that might be a valuable thing to tell the public during the election season. Oh, the Republicans are going to be screaming like bitch dogs getting gang fucked by pit bulls in an alley at this one, because the louder they scream and their lackeys on Fox, MSNBC or wherever, scream, the more it drowns out the obvious: the Republicans will not allow a full investigation of anything. Nothing. Jack shit. They will use any tool they can to prop up the administration. Get documents on 9/11? Forget it. Get requested interviews and documents on intelligence "failures" leading up to the war? Go fuck yourselves.
Now comes word that there may have been a last second attempt to make a deal to allow U.S. troops and weapons inspectors into Iraq in order to avoid war, but that overture was ignored, rejected like an uninsured sick child at the local emergency room. Do you think this might be of interest to a Republican-led Congress, who just gave away another bunch of billions to prop up this farce of an occupation? Yeah, but then again, that's why you have a soul, whereas Dennis Hastert, Pat Roberts, and the loathsome Orrin Hatch do not. Christ, at this point, there could be a videotape of Richard Perle, neocon architect of America's viciousness, trying to fuck Saddam Hussein, and Saddam spurning his advances, and Perle declaring to a whimpering, tight-anused Saddam, "You won't let me fuck you? Then I'm gonna get the President to bomb the living shit out of your country." Yeah, his fat gut could be on display, pants down, half-erect penis wanting that Sunni ass so bad. And even then the Republican Congress would gloss over it, saying, "Well, it was obviously an intelligence failure that Saddam wanted Perle to fuck him."
At every administrative fart in the wrong direction, the Congress and the Justice Department launched probes of the Clinton adminstration. From firing an employee to fucking an intern, no matter what, the right wing dug into that Executive Branch sphincter, expecting to find the cancer rotting within. And Clinton stood there, let 'em bring it on (not like that pussy Bush saying it about troops who would die for his failed administration). Why? Because he knew that he was right. He knew that no matter how much people investigated and spent millions and millions of dollars that could have maybe gone to, say, helping the citizens of this country, he would be cleared. He knew he was right.
This is where the dots make a picture, where the bouncing ball leads you to the end of the tune: you know why the Bush admistration won't do dick to help out any investigation, whether into Cheney's energy task force, the Plame name leak, 9/11 failures, Iraq War lies. You know why. And you should be shouting it in the streets: because they're afraid of the ugliness being revealed. Of all of it tumbling out. Of the mask of machismo being ripped off and the pants being pulled down to reveal what tiny, tiny dicks they have.
Okay, gang, this one is for the idiots: follow the bouncing ball of shame - Republicans have gotten sand in their vaginas over the leak of a draft memo to Sean Hannity, Fox "news" talk host and Alan Colmes' rapist. The Republicans, who a few months ago were crowing over the possibility of using the President's flyboy stunt on the aircraft carrier in campaign commercials, are shocked, shocked, mind you, over the possibility of Democrats saying that the President had "dubious motives" in going to war in Iraq and that, perhaps that might be a valuable thing to tell the public during the election season. Oh, the Republicans are going to be screaming like bitch dogs getting gang fucked by pit bulls in an alley at this one, because the louder they scream and their lackeys on Fox, MSNBC or wherever, scream, the more it drowns out the obvious: the Republicans will not allow a full investigation of anything. Nothing. Jack shit. They will use any tool they can to prop up the administration. Get documents on 9/11? Forget it. Get requested interviews and documents on intelligence "failures" leading up to the war? Go fuck yourselves.
Now comes word that there may have been a last second attempt to make a deal to allow U.S. troops and weapons inspectors into Iraq in order to avoid war, but that overture was ignored, rejected like an uninsured sick child at the local emergency room. Do you think this might be of interest to a Republican-led Congress, who just gave away another bunch of billions to prop up this farce of an occupation? Yeah, but then again, that's why you have a soul, whereas Dennis Hastert, Pat Roberts, and the loathsome Orrin Hatch do not. Christ, at this point, there could be a videotape of Richard Perle, neocon architect of America's viciousness, trying to fuck Saddam Hussein, and Saddam spurning his advances, and Perle declaring to a whimpering, tight-anused Saddam, "You won't let me fuck you? Then I'm gonna get the President to bomb the living shit out of your country." Yeah, his fat gut could be on display, pants down, half-erect penis wanting that Sunni ass so bad. And even then the Republican Congress would gloss over it, saying, "Well, it was obviously an intelligence failure that Saddam wanted Perle to fuck him."
At every administrative fart in the wrong direction, the Congress and the Justice Department launched probes of the Clinton adminstration. From firing an employee to fucking an intern, no matter what, the right wing dug into that Executive Branch sphincter, expecting to find the cancer rotting within. And Clinton stood there, let 'em bring it on (not like that pussy Bush saying it about troops who would die for his failed administration). Why? Because he knew that he was right. He knew that no matter how much people investigated and spent millions and millions of dollars that could have maybe gone to, say, helping the citizens of this country, he would be cleared. He knew he was right.
This is where the dots make a picture, where the bouncing ball leads you to the end of the tune: you know why the Bush admistration won't do dick to help out any investigation, whether into Cheney's energy task force, the Plame name leak, 9/11 failures, Iraq War lies. You know why. And you should be shouting it in the streets: because they're afraid of the ugliness being revealed. Of all of it tumbling out. Of the mask of machismo being ripped off and the pants being pulled down to reveal what tiny, tiny dicks they have.
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