Archive for the ‘Deep political thought’ Category

Fixin’ to take a WIPPin’

February 21, 2019

Looking west from El Rancho Pendejo. Somewhere over the horizon Flagstaff is taking another pounding.

Yahweh is supposed to have another go at us over the next couple of days, and then the weather is expected to return to something more in keeping with late February in the upper reaches of the Chihuahuan Desert, which is to say sunny and warmish.

Meanwhile, DeeCee is getting all hot and bothered over rumors that it will be Mueller Time almost any second now, no shit, really, this time we’re not kidding, it’s for reals, duck and cover, etc., et al., and so on and so forth.

Can you imagine how many Old Wise Heads will explode if he hits us with the prosecutorial equivalent of “Heckuva job, Trumpie?” Or if the Justice League buries the report down at the Waste Isolation Pilot Plant with a 24/7 guard of Terminators? Maybe has China express-mail the sucker to the far side of the moon?

“The public is welcome to inspect the report there,” says Justice Department media liaison Phuq Yu. “We are nothing if not transparent.”

Presidents Day is a bullshit holiday

February 18, 2019

Some presidents are more worthy of recognition than others.

When I was a kid we thought the Holy Trinity of American politics comprised George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy.

We celebrated Washington’s birthday on Feb. 22, because he was George Fuckin’ Washington, is why. Father of Our Country. Wooden teeth, cannot tell a lie, threw a silver dollar across the Potomac. Try that with today’s bogus fiat currency and see how far it flies.

Lincoln was born in a log cabin he built himself, freed the slaves, and wrote the best speech ever.

And Kennedy boinked Marilyn Monroe. He slipped it to that commie bastard Nikita Khrushchev, too, but only metaphorically speaking. Still, well done indeed.

But it was Washington’s birthday we celebrated, for the aforementioned reason (he was GFW, the OG, our national daddy-o). And I’m still OK with that, debunking of childhood mythologies notwithstanding.

However, I object to the blanket veneration issued to all subsequent holders of the office since the Uniform Holiday Act took effect in 1971, not least because it followed an executive order from the criminal Richard M. Nixon, who just three years later would run like a rat to San Clemency, pardoned by his successor, the execrable Gerald R. Ford.

Here’s the thing: The presidency is a job, and hiring does not confer beatification. We’ve signed up some real lulus for the gig, bozos best consigned to the Dumpster of History, including the bloated scumbag presently squatting in the Oval Office like an orange poison toad.

We’re supposed to stand this guy up alongside Washington? A Father of Douchebags with a wooden head who lies through plastic teeth and couldn’t throw a French fry across a Mickey D’s? And take a day off in his honor?

I think we should all have to work an extra day, and for free, too, for hiring the sonofabitch in the first place.

Breaking Gnus: The Bewilderbeest speaks

February 15, 2019

“I didn’t need to do this, but it was an emergency.”

Jesus H. Christ. This fool could fuck up a steel ball.

I mean, a lot of us have voices in our heads. But we don’t let them all talk at once. Not where other people can hear them, anyway.

 

What a boar

February 5, 2019

“Roll him back to makeup, fellas, someone screwed up the spray tan.”

Does anyone else find it suspicious that as we enter the Year of the Pig there will be some preposterous oinking from Capitol Hill?

Saaaaaaay: You don’t suppose he’s a Chinese stooge instead of a Russian stooge. …

Grounds for dismissal

January 31, 2019

Lumpy the Bedbug, a.k.a. Miss Mia Sopaipilla,
practices her duck-and-cover.

Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment) displays his enthusiasm for another wealthy egomaniac at the helm.

I took a poll of registered felines this morning: “Is former Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz a viable candidate for president of the United States?”

The results are as you see.

Of course, the respondents had yet to enjoy the morning’s venti salted caramel mocha frappucino with five pumps of frap roast, four pumps of caramel sauce, four pumps of caramel syrup, three pumps of mocha, three pumps of toffee nut syrup, double blended with extra whipped cream. So the results could be skewed.

Or maybe the candidate is. In describing Schultz as “more of a bore than a monster,” a one-percenter who could draw a few gazillion from petty cash to run as an independent, split the anti-Cheeto vote “and re-elect the dumber version of himself currently in the White House,” Matt Taibbi sums it all up nicely at Rolling Stone: “Is anything in the world more dangerous than a bored billionaire?”

Here’s the turd, there’s the handle, what’s your hurry?

January 18, 2019

His Lardship on the throne.

Once again Charles P. Pierce breaks it all down so the rest of us can lean on our shovels.

Waiting for Mueller is now an unacceptable and inadequate response from the national legislature. Mueller’s job is to see if the president* and his minions should go to jail. The House’s job is to determine if the president* should not be the president* anymore.

Bring it. Impeach the sonofabitch. If nothing else you give him a fresh case of ants in his pants to distract him from rendering the Republic uninhabitable.

Here’s more, from Adam Serwer and Yoni Appelbaum at The Atlantic.

Hard reign in Swamptown

January 12, 2019

What a blockhead.

The pestilence of the Benighted States, Wally O’Steele, a.k.a. Artie Deal, wants a Big, Beautiful Wall® at the nation’s southern boundary to keep brown people* from crossing the border to work anywhere other than at his hotels or golf courses.

Unable to procure funding for same, he has instead walled off the feddle gummint from its own tax-paying citizens, idling more than a few of them in the process and forcing others to work without pay while selling their Christmas presents on eBay to keep from freezing to death in the dark.

It’s a hard reign, and the water — if that’s what it is — just keeps rising.

Man the lifeboats and rig for heavy seas, matey — it’s the latest episode of Radio Free Dogpatch.

* Russian oligarchs and Saudi princelings get a pass, of course, along with a coupon for a complimentary fluff and fold at Artie Deal’s Motor Inn & Money Laundry.

 

P L A Y    R A D I O    F R E E    D O G P A T C H

• Technical notes: This episode was recorded with a Shure SM58 microphone and a Zoom H5 Handy Recorder. Additional bad noise via an Audio-Technica ATR2100-USB mic and a Sony ICD-UX533. I edited this hot mess using a Behringer XENYX 1200USB mixer wired to a 2014 MacBook Pro with an external LG 24MP59HT-P monitor and Apple’s GarageBand. Obligatory Cultural References From Bygone Days© courtesy the Bard of Hibbing.

Girl Scouts to pay for Wall?

January 10, 2019

Eat me.

With neither Mexico nor the United States interested in underwriting his dreams of a Wall, President Wally O’Steele has proposed privatizing the project by handing it over to the Girl Scouts of Southwest Texas.

“They’re gonna have to sell something a helluva lot tastier than Thin Mints to make the nut, but that’s how the cookie crumbles, amirite?” slobbered O’Steele, flanked by his alleged wife Melons, wearing a Girl Scout uniform three sizes too small and lobbing condoms and poppers into a mostly empty Luby’s parking lot in McAllen, Texas.

“No Brownies!” he added, digging with a stubby finger at a crust of Adderall clogging one nostril. “Not on this side of my Wall, anyway.”

In other news, Samsung’s new washer/dryer lets you decide when you’d like it to explode.

Blockhead

January 8, 2019

Thick as a brick.

Breaking news

January 4, 2019

“That Wall money must be up there somewhere, lemme have another look.”

This just in: Rich get richer.

And those other folks? Oh, they get something, a’ight, but it ain’t richer.