Yippie!

Remember the Yippies? Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, et al.?

The wildmen who lit up the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago may have a descendant in the City of the Big Shoulders — a cyclist who gave the old razzle-dazzle to La Migra and seems to have gotten away scot free. (A tip of the Mad Dog Red Zinger cap goes out to Digby and Tom Sullivan.)

I emailed Grant Peterson about getting him a sponsorship through Rivendell Bicycle Works — a Charlie Gallop would be just the thing for Charlie Hustle there — but no deal so far.

Now if we can just get this dude to run a pig for president. No, not that pig. Some honorable swine, like Pigasus the Immortal.

Sex and violence

Rough trade.

Two thoughts this morning. The first, from P.J. O’Rourke in his book, “Parliament of Whores.”

Republicans are the party that says government doesn’t work, and then they get elected and prove it.

The second, from Tom Nichols at The Atlantic, in his essay, “The Commander in Chief Is Not Okay.”

In 1973, an Air Force nuclear-missile officer named Harold Hering asked a simple question during a training session: “How can I know that an order I receive to launch my missiles came from a sane president?” The question cost him his career. Military members are trained to execute orders, not question them. But today, both the man who can order the use of nuclear arms and the man who would likely verify such an order gave disgraceful and unnerving performances in Quantico. How many officers left the room asking themselves Major Hering’s question?

Discuss.

Just another manic Monday

“Will you look at the man? He’s a Freudian delight; he crawls with clues!”

Maj. Whiskey Tango “Foxtrot” Sterno was said to be “crawling out of his skin” as the Warfighter in Chief prepared to address the brass hats he has ordered to assemble like so many raw recruits, reminding us not only of “The Caine Mutiny” but also “Lost Weekend.”

OK, so it’s The Daily Beast riffing on a piece from the Daily Mail. Not exactly the Word of God. But I’ll take good news wherever I can find it, especially on a Monday.

Speaking of good news, the clock is ticking to the first shutdown of the federal government in nearly seven years. This has been the goal of the Repuglicunts for as long as I can remember, which hardly makes it breaking news. But this time, who knows? It could stay shut down this time, and the generals and admirals would all have to travel back to their assignments via private transpo ho ho ho ho ho.

There will always be money to blow shit up, government or no government. But I wouldn’t want to be hanging by my nutsack waiting on a Social Security check.

The turn of the screw

“When I said ‘I’ll take it black,’ I didn’t mean this black. …”

Cost of coffee? Up nearly 21 percent. Cost of screws from Taiwan, America’s No. 1 supplier?

Just ask the Taiwanese, who make screws for everything from bathroom cabinets to data-center fans.

Margins are thin and getting thinner, as is the herd of manufacturers, thanks to The Pestilence’s 50 percent tariffs on steel and aluminum, plus competition from mainland China on product and the homegrown computer-chip industry for workers and government support.

Kent Chen of Sheh Fung Screws Company told The New York Times that his orders are down 20 percent compared to this time last year.

“Everything is in pause mode. A lot of our customers said, ‘We’ll see,’ but then we didn’t receive many orders.”

Oh, he got his orders, all right. Same as the rest of us.

“Assume the position!”

We are so screwed. Ain’t enough coffee in the world for this bullshit. Especially at these prices.