Archive for the ‘Deep political thought’ Category

One less cracker in the barrel

July 5, 2018

Scott Pruitt is going back to lifting twenties out of the collection plate at First Baptist in Broken Arrow, sneaking tips off nearby tables at Cracker Barrel, and surreptitiously peeing in Tulsa’s municipal pools.

As Hunter S. Thompson once said, “Well shucks. It make’s a man’s eyes damp, for sure.”

The Good Doktor was speaking of Nixon fluffer Pat Buchanan, who was whimpering publicly about the harsh treatment afforded The Boss as the hyenas of Watergate gnawed on his political carcass, and what Thompson had to say about that administration 44 years ago goes double for this one:

“By bringing in hundreds of thugs, fixers and fascists to run the Government, [Nixon] was able to crank almost every problem he touched into a mindbending crisis. About the only disaster he hasn’t brought down on us yet is a nuclear war with either Russia or China or both but he still has time, and the odds on his actually doing it are not all that long.

“This is the horror of American politics today — not that Richard Nixon and his fixers have been crippled, convicted, indicted, disgraced and even jailed — but that the only available alternatives are not much better; the same dim collection of burned‐out hacks who have been fouling our air with their gibberish for the last twenty years.

“How long, oh Lord, how long? And how much longer will we have to wait before some high‐powered shark with a fistful of answers will finally bring us face‐to‐face with the ugly question that is already so close to the surface in this country, that sooner or later even politicians will have to cope with it?

“Is the democracy worth all the risks and problems that necessarily go with it? Or, would we all be happier by admitting that the whole thing was a lark from the start and now that it hasn’t worked out, to hell with it.”

I’d let Pruitt run the siren all the way back to Oklahoma, if he didn’t mind that his personal vehicle was a splintery rail. Meanwhile, his replacement as EPA chief is a former coal lobbyist, because of course he is. Right again, Doc.

• Bonus Extra Credit Venom: Read HST’s obituary of Richard M. Nixon, who many of us thought — wrongly, as it turned out — was as bad as a president could get. 

 

Today’s pig is tomorrow’s bacon

June 19, 2018

This is not the President Pigasus for which the Yippies had hoped.

There are seven pigs for every person in Iowa.

In DeeCee, of course, the pig-to-person ratio skews even higher on the Sooey Scale, and thus the relentless oinking from that quarter has become deafening.

The truth is simply not in these swine, when it comes to immigration detention or anything else. If Kirstjen Nielsen told me the sun was rising in the east I would step outside to verify it. And all she’s doing is spreading the aromatic manure provided by her boss, Il Douche, King Donald the Short-fingered.

“(N)o law actually requires that families be separated at the border,” says The New York Times.

Even tools like Texas Ted Cruz the Gucci Shitkicker, Orrin “Down the” Hatch and Joe “The Moderate Mannequin” Manchin find the separation of children from their parents distasteful. And those guys will swallow anything.

Ironically, this administration may have provided its own solution. Il Douche wants a space force? Fine. Let’s draft him and every one of his appointees, fixers, enablers, thugs and stooges, and deploy them via Elon Muskmobile to Mars.

The Martians may detain them in cages for a spell, just to see whether “they could be murderers or thieves and so much else.” Especially since we’ll stencil that warning on the exterior of the spacecraft. “Contents: Murderers, thieves and so much else.”

But hey, they’ll just be trying to protect their interplanetary borders. Ack ack!

‘Save Money. Live Better. Do As You’re Told.’

June 15, 2018

This mural depicting Il Douche greets children at Camp Walmart. That should keep appetites suppressed and food expenses down. Arbeit macht frei, bitches. | Department of Health and Human Services via Jacob Soboroff (MSNBC) and Kevin Drum (Mother Jones)

As a child I went to summer camp in Texas. I didn’t like it.

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like this modern version, either, especially if I didn’t hablo the Inglés and didn’t know when (or if) my parents would be coming to take me home.

Time to call the congressional delegation again. Lord, are they gonna be tired of hearing from the O’Gradys.

“Go back to Ireland already before we put you in a camp,” they’ll mutter after hanging up. Ná bíodh eagla orm.

A working-class hero is something to be

June 13, 2018

The economy is rocking, they say — but for whom?

“It’s a bit of a puzzle,” says Fed Chairman Jerome H. Powell. Do tell.

Goo and dribble

June 12, 2018

Some folks thought I was wasting my time reading science fiction. They never thought we’d be living it.

Kevin Drum is on the nosey here. The grip-and-grin is a time-honored tradition in marketing, and that’s all that came out of the much-ballyhooed Dotard-Lil’ Kim “summit.”

Drum’s dismissal of the official statement’s four bullet points reminds me of a scene early in “Foundation,” by Isaac Asimov. Faced with an external threat from a rogue kinglet, the Foundation’s Encyclopedists and Salvor Hardin, mayor of Terminus City, were very much at odds over how to handle the situation.

The academics were content to rely upon their memories of a robust Empire. Hardin was not so sanguine. And when Lord Dorwin, Chancellor of the Empire, paid a diplomatic call upon Terminus to reassure everyone, the mayor took the liberty of having his every word recorded and subjected to symbolic analysis.

After the analyst filtered out what Hardin described as “meaningless statements, vague gibberish, useless qualifications — in short, all the goo and dribble — he found he had nothing left. Everything canceled out.”

“Lord Dorwin, gentlemen, in five days of discussion didn’t say one damned thing, and said it so you never noticed.”

Star Dreck: The Wrath of Con

June 10, 2018

Is the rest of the galaxy starting to figure out where Ricardo Mountebank is coming from?

Law and ordure

June 5, 2018

His Lardship on the throne.

Donald the Short-fingered thinks he is the Lizard King (“I can do anything!).

There was a time when “erotic politician” Jim Morrison got in the deep doo-doo for waving his dick around on stage, but that was only rock ’n’ roll, and we liked it. Just part of the act, folks; all in good fun.

This guy actually wants to fuck us. But I don’t see the cops coming anytime soon.

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.”