Archive for the ‘Deep political thought’ Category

Be Worst

May 8, 2018

Remember, kids, cutting and pasting other people’s work
is for bloggers only.

From Steve Benen at the Maddow Blog:

• Melania Trump’s “Be Best” blather was apparently another cut-and-paste job, liberating the content of a document released by the previous administration’s Federal Trade Commission in 2014. The writing, it is hard. I know, believe me, I know.

• While Ms. Trump was Being Best, her husband and his pals were being the other thing. Jeffy Bob Jimmie Joe Sessions plans to separate immigrant parents and children because, you know, “the best people,” etc., et al., and so on and so forth. The Big Orange Cheese, meanwhile, wants to slash more than $15 billion in previously approved spending, more than half of it to come from the Children’s Health Insurance Program, because children can’t vote, buy real estate, or suck a golf ball through a garden hose.

• And finally, according to The New Yorker, Eric T. Schneiderman has resigned as New York attorney general to spend more time with his family and work on a memoir entitled, “Shut the Fuck Up And Get Me Another Drink, You Whore (Before I Slap You Again).”

Red menace

May 1, 2018

The intersection of Trails 341 and 342. I like to hang a left here
(because of course I do) and do a clockwise loop that tops out at the wilderness boundary.

There’s Revolution and there’s revolution.

With the masses otherwise occupied for May Day 2018, and all my rousing calls to action going to voicemail, I settled for a bit of the lower-case variety, pulling on the red-and-black Mad Dog Media kit, stuffing red water bottles into their cages, and rolling out for a short spin on the people’s trails.

Comrade Red Cap keeps the people’s air where it belongs.

There’s more than one way to lose a chain, and I know most of them. I lost one on Sunday after a rear puncture and got good and greasy (the Voodoo Nakisi has horizontal dropouts that open to the rear, and it’s easy to get filthy removing and replacing the rear wheel).

On Monday I punctured again, this time the front. It was a slow leak, like the proletariat losing political power, and I was able to make it home without overthrowing the bourgeois wheel.

But today, International Workers Day, went off without a hitch. Maybe it was the red valve caps.

 

No joke

April 29, 2018

Hey, correspond with this, yo.

Margaret Sullivan at The Washington Post gets this absolutely right: The White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner is less about speaking truth to power and more about “schmoozing in the swamp.” It should be bused promptly to the dishwasher of history.

Do cops and robbers break bread together while a chorus line of hookers can-cans on stage?

Recall your Frank H. Simonds: “‘There is but one way for a newspaperman to look at a politician, and that is down.'”

And these particular scribblers should be grabbing lunch at their desks while they stick to their looking down. Because H.L. Mencken was right:

“On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.”

‘Go get the Roach!’

March 18, 2018

The tweetstorm continues without letup, nobody’s in command, and everyone’s just hunkering down in their holes, waiting for Roach Mueller to turn up with his M79.

Swamp things

March 15, 2018

To drain the swamp, one must become the swamp.
Or something like that.

A brief roundup as we circle the drain:

• Fake news: A truth deficit when it comes to trade.

• Brass balls? Nope, those are gold.

• I am the Walrus: Th’ hell is a walrus doing hanging around a swamp? I thought climate change was a Chinese hoax.

And now, the good news: That water bottle on your downtube? Turns out it’s the Fountain of Youth.

No Hope

March 1, 2018

Tickling those … ivories. Wait, what did you think I was gonna say?

Man, they just can’t keep a piano player in this whorehouse, can they?

Doesn’t seem to have hurt business, though. And maybe Jared can try singing whenever he’s not serving up that old-fashioned love. Give those rug burns a chance to heal, son.

 

Sorry, we can’t use you

February 17, 2018

Going down? Don’t you wish. …

“I have insisted that we enforce the necessary safeguards and processes to review an individual’s suitability for employment at the White House before that individual begins work,” says John Kelly, White House chief of staff.

Too bad the Electoral College didn’t share his lofty standards, hey?

His Majesty will see you now

January 20, 2018

His Most Puissant Imperial Majesty, Emperor Turkish the Large, Protector of the Giant White Cats, Lord of the Holy Food Grail, Befouler of Litter Boxes,
Biter of Hands, Drinker from Sinks.

Maybe what we need is a king. The American Experiment seems to have given us a clot of unfunny Louis C.K.s bent on showing us their freckled dicks.

Meanwhile, Charlie Pierce is working on the weekend … and so, apparently, is Stormy “Making America Horny Again” Daniels.

Metro Monday

January 15, 2018

We have here some pictures of cute kitty-cats. …

A couple items no chamber of commerce likes to see cuddled up together on the front page:

“Tourism sector’s impact expanding.”

“2017 homicide total leads three-year spike.”

… because pictures of cute kitty-cats are proven to take the sting out of bad news. I read it on the Internet.

Headlines like these are among the reasons why I’m glad I don’t work in tourism or law enforcement. It must be a bitch, coaxing the rubes here for a visit only to mop them up later somewhere along the Mother Road.

It’s gonna be tough for the Duke City to become a “world-class community,” whatever the hell that is, if the locals keep croaking the visitors and everybody can read all about it in the daily blat.

Maybe the city can contract with Sandia National Labs to develop some sort of nuclear street sweeper, a disintegration beam to erase the corpus delicti before the scribes can tally a body count.

“Bob who?” replies the desk sergeant with a quizzical expression. “Nope, nobody by that name in the blotter. We haven’t had a homicide reported all year. Maybe he moseyed on through and up to Bibleburg. They’re killing ’em like crazy up there.”

I don’t know much about ART, but. …

January 11, 2018

The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers never went electric, but they sure as shit knew their buses. Freak Bros. © forever by Gilbert Shelton

… I know what I don’t like.

Somebody — multiple somebodies, actually — has intercoursed the penguin in dramatic fashion as regards the Albuquerque Rapid Transit (ART) project, which already had all the positive press of a buddy flick called “Hey, Look At My Dick!”, starring Louis C.K. and Harvey Weinstein, directed by Roman Polanski from a script by Woody Allen.

Seriously, how do you fuck up a nine-mile bus line? And the nine miles of retail that goes with it? That takes real talent. I expect these people to go far, and probably soon, too, before the angry mobs kick down their doors.

• Late update: And meanwhile, as expected here at the Duke City Chuckle Hut, the ACLU comes after Albuquerque for its thickheaded, ham-handed anti-panhandling ordinance. Defending this attempt to keep Those People away from the tony real estate is another budget item we could have done without.