Category: Deep political thought

Getaways, groceries and grifters

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments

There’s nothing like that first day after the Tour folds its big yellow tent and life gets back to normal.

I got out early for a two-hour ride northeast on Highway 24 and enjoyed a tailwind to Falcon. The headwind on the homebound leg wasn’t outlandish, and I considered stretching the outing to three hours before remembering that there was nothing to eat in Chez Dog, someone having been a little lackadaisical about grocery-shopping lately.

So I rolled home, made a list and headed north to Whole Paycheck, pissing away a car payment on bits of this and that to keep flesh on the bones. Last night’s “dinner” involved a tin of smoked oysters, cheddar, crackers and a salad, and that’s just not enough to keep a renowned cycling journalist at the top of his game.

Now it’s raining for a second consecutive day, which is excellent. It’s been hotter than the high-flange hubs of Hell around here lately, and this takes the edge off, as does a little effervescent Austrian rosé.

Alas, we may all be reduced to drinking feeble American lager out of red-white-and-blue cans if the “mine is bigger than yours” contest ends badly in DeeCee, as seems increasingly likely.

These overfed, undereducated pustules afflicting the body politic should be compelled at gunpoint to hold their slapfests in small-town bars and beaneries, in the company of the simple folks these rich fucks profess to care about. Maybe after a few vicious beatings administered by work-hardened knuckles they’d realize their cushy gigs are about people, not politics.

• Late update: Kevin Drum sure wasn’t impressed by either Obama or Punkinhead tonight. I listened to the first few minutes of Obama’s bit while cooking dinner and I wasn’t exactly hearing a clarion call to arms. As for Punkinhead, I unplugged his ass before he even had a chance to start lying. My patience has its limits.

Riding the tiger

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 5 Comments

Longtime friend of the DogSite Jeff Cozad passes on this interesting read from Timothy Egan, a former reporter for turned weekly contributor to The New York Times.

The short story is this: Repugs rode the Tea Baggers to control of the House … or so they thought. Now they find themselves astride a retarded tiger that’s hell-bent on either eating up or pissing on everything in sight, and to dismount is to (a) end up inside the tiger, or (2) get pissed on.

What happens to the rest of us, naturally, is strictly between us and the tiger.

Here’s fish in your eye

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 10 Comments
Fisheyed Front Strange
Acid flashback? Nope, just the wizards at Canon messing with our minds again.

I didn’t get out for a ride today until the afternoon thunderclouds were rolling in, and wasn’t but four blocks away from Chez Dog when the first raindrops began to fall.

Summoning my inner Belgian, I pressed on, and atop the Col du Austin Bluffs Parkway, by the University of Colorado-Colorado Springs, I stopped to snap this pic of the Front Range using the Canon PowerShot 300HS‘s fisheye-lens feature. This sort of effrontery must make real photographers feel the way I do when some mouth-breather with a netbook and a Twitter account proclaims himself a writer.

Meanwhile, the other day I cycle up to Grandview Overlook in Palmer Park and see another cyclist there. We start chatting, and he mentions that he used to live in California, and I ask why he left, expecting some tale about selling some shitbox condo for a bazillion dollars and buying the Broadmoor as a pied-a-terre until something of quality hits the market.

“Couldn’t get out of there fast enough,” he said. “The bank wouldn’t work with us, so we handed them the keys and said, ‘See you.'”

Now, I don’t know the backstory. But the dude went from “owning” a house in California to ranching the view from an apartment in a tough part of Bibleburg, and that’s got to sting, no matter how nifty the Front Range looks from the saddle of your bicycle.

Speaker of the Hose

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments

Eric Cantor is either an al-Qaeda sleeper agent hell-bent on destroying the U.S. economy or the dumbest pol to come down the pike in the better part of quite some time.*

He’s up to his tits in a hole and still digging, and Punkinhead is standing on the edge, watching him do it, sipping from a beaker of gin and just waiting for the proper moment to unzip, deploy the wonder worm and piss all over him.

This punk-ass chump will be Speaker of the House when Ann Coulter, Michele Bachmann and Sarah Palin throw a three-way Wesson Oil fling on a giant red-white-and-blue plastic tarp emblazoned with the U.S. Constitution and the Ten Commandments.

* I almost forgot about Louie Gohmert, probably because he’s so forgettable. That numbnuts thinks we can clear up the red ink with a U-nited States of America garage sale. “You have land. You’ve got leases,” he told The Washington Post. “There are all kinds of assets.” Right. Let’s start by selling Gohmert’s bridge and banjo.

Through the roof

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments

One of the lefty bloggers I follow, Kevin Drum at Mother Jones, wrote recently: “We are ruled by charlatans and cowards.” And after watching this rope-a-dope chickenshit over what should be a strictly routine procedure — raising the debt ceiling — I couldn’t agree more.

The latest cynical gambit from the Repuglitards, who throughout the process have been focused not on paying the bills they’ve rung up, but rather on getting yet another American laid off (Barack Obama), appears to be to pass the buck now in hopes of getting to hammer the prez and his party in the run-up to the 2012 elections. Let him raise the ceiling now and we’ll knock him to the floor in the general, goes what passes for thinking among this lot.

Well, God knows whichever flag-pinned feeb winds up wearing their nomination like a scarlet “E” for “Eejit” will need all the help s/he can get. But this is despicable even for Turtleneck, Punkinhead and the rest of those smirking ward-heelers. Just ask Kevin, who weighs in with his own mighty snark here.

Last I looked there were a whole lot of folks out of work and an economy limping along like a three-legged sloth with the piles, and these assclowns think the smart thing to do is strive mightily to make matters even worse? Are there no pitchforks? No torches?