Well, you can’t say we weren’t warned. On this date in 1949, actually. And again in 2023. And again, and again, and again. …
Commence Two Minutes Hate
Category: Agitprop
All hats, no cattle
Famous sperm donor Elon Muskhat is returning to fucking up his companies instead of fucking up the government, according to The Atlantic.
And not a moment too soon.
Nobody is compelled to deal with this asshole’s companies. But it’s kind of hard to avoid dealing with the government. It’s always telling you where you can’t hike, or fucking poor people while blowing the Pentagon, or shipping your neighbors off to the Sheik of Yerbouti for challenging new careers as rare-earth miners and/or sexytime playthings.
He’s got his own town in Texas, I hear. Let him fuck that place up for a while.
Bad cops! No donuts!
Jesus H. Christ in a Salvadoran slammer, but these Junior G-Persons are even dumber than I thought.
And mind you, I thought they were plenty fuckin’ dumb.
So, former FBI director James Comey posts a pix of seashells on a beach arranged to spell “86 47,” the first two digits of which any old retired copy editor knows mean “refuse to serve” and/or “eject or ban.”
And Kristi Kreme, Tulsi Gobshite and Cash Patel get their tactical boxers in a Kevlar bunch and screech that he’s calling for Beelzebozo’s assassination and/or “issuing a hit” on him.
It’s like an unfunny reboot of “Get Smart,” with Mel Gibson at the helm instead of Mel Brooks. Linus had a better security blanket than this.
‘Fuck you for your service’
Another day, another steaming heap of some punk-ass shit.
Dr. Carla D. Hayden — the first woman and first African-American to head the Library of Congress — got the ol’ heave-ho yesterday in a curt, two-sentence email from Trent Morse, deputy director of White House personnel (see above).
New Mexico Sen. Martin Heinrich, the top Democrat on the Appropriations Subcommittee on the Legislative Branch, hit the high points of the doctor’s curriculum vitae for us and had a few thoughts of his own on her unceremonious dismissal:
“President Trump fired our nation’s Librarian, Dr. Carla Hayden, by email at 6:56pm tonight, taking his assault on America’s libraries to a new level.
“Over the course of her tenure, Dr. Hayden brought the Library of Congress to the people, with initiatives that reached into rural communities and made the Library accessible to all Americans, in person and online.
“While President Trump wants to ban books and tell Americans what to read – or not to read at all, Dr. Hayden has devoted her career to making reading and the pursuit of knowledge available to everyone.
“Be like Dr. Hayden.”
I can’t wait for the day when we get to give the shove to these chickenshit vandals. Two sentences? Try two words: “Fuck off.”
In the meantime, I suppose we can look forward to seeing Enrique Tarrio sworn in as Dr. Hayden’s replacement. The recently pardoned seditionist needs a job of work, and who knows? He may have checked out a few “Punisher” comic books from the prison library when he wasn’t busy finking for the John Laws.
• Update: Here’s more on the story from The Associated Press.
Riders on the storm
It was fury in the foothills most of yesterday and well into the night.
The rain started as I was driving home after dropping Herself at the Sunport. Then came the wind, a few rounds of dime-sized hail shotgunning the backyard maple (which shed leaves and one sizable dead limb) and the roses (still plenty of them left for the deer to eat), and more rain.
And finally the light show captured above.
Herself’s flight to Maine was not without drama. First Southwest couldn’t fuel her plane because of lightning. Then the fuel truck didn’t have enough go-juice to top off the tanks, so another had to be pressed into service.
By the time she got off the tarmac an hour late it was clear that making her connecting flight in Baltimore was going to be iffy. The plan had been to grab a bite to eat and chill a bit between planes, but you know what they say about plans.
So Herself touches down with just enough time to hit the bathroom, join the queue for boarding, and find her seat … after which there was another extended wait for a couple dozen passengers who had been delayed for reason(s) unknown. She could’ve had a sitdown meal, an adult beverage, and a nap, but nooooo. …
The long and the short of it? A flight that was supposed to arrive at stupid-thirty in Portland instead touched down at extra-double-stupid thirty.
And it’s raining there, too.
I stayed up way past my bedtime to provide moral support encoded in bad language. Once Herself was finally settling into her hotel room I turned out the light and … and then Thor turned it back on, as you see.
The flickering electrical display that brought me out of a fitful doze was utterly silent. No thunder at all. Thor was pulling his punches. Or maybe Mjölnir needed recharging. Odin knows I do. And Herself still faces a couple hours in a car this morning before she reaches what the airlines like to call her “final destination.”
Whenever the Thunder God gets his iHammer back up to four bars maybe he can have a couple swings at Beelzebozo. The senile old fool currently propped up as “president” of the “United States” doesn’t know what the Declaration of Independence means or what the Constitution requires of him.
Riders on the storm, indeed.
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