I’d like to see a few of these empty suits lining up at their local food banks for a small box of whatever. Looks like the Durango Herald picked the right time to run this piece.
It will be interesting to see which measures manage to win the approval of the steely-eyed budget cutters at the state Capitol. Is it unreasonable of me to expect that the rich might continue to get richer?
Meanwhile, there’s a fresh rant up at VeloNews.com. It has a relatively low venom content and is comparatively foam-free.
I don’t know who’s scarier — the grinning lunatic who guns down a congresswoman, a federal judge and a 9-year-old girl, among others, or the assclowns who are in the public eye because some folks treat the ballot box like a drive-up window at Mickey D’s after the bars have closed for the night (“Oh, just give me whatever.”)
Take Rep. Louie Gohmert (R-Terror Babies), who thinks some folks (not him) need to tone down their rhetoric. Or Rep. Virginia Foxx (R-McCarthyism), a neotard who equates health care with terrorism — and who chairs a House committee on higher education and lifelong learning. And of course Caribou Barbie herself, who just can’t bear to see a TV screen bereft of her image, a grinning clown mask hung on an empty skull. A big shout-out to John “Get Off My Lawn” McCain for dropping this flaming sack of moose shit on the national stoop.
It must all be terribly frustrating for the staff at “The Daily Show,” with satire running a very poor second to reality. As Steve Benen at Political Animal noted, “The jokes write themselves.”
Oboy, oboy, the days are gonna start getting longer … although some of them lately have seemed almost interminable.
"New START has overcome my filibuster, you say? Blast it! Have Michele Bachmann bring me a turkey taco at once, and send Lindsey Graham in here to kiss my ass."
Roofwork. Insulation. Tree removal and transplantation. The rewiring of the house in order to keep hair dryers from punking computers, DSL modems and productivity. A woeful lack of exercise as a certain fat bastard makes himself available for oversight. Oh, the humanity.
Happily, all projects save repairs to our gutters should be complete by this time tomorrow afternoon, and peace will reign in Chez Dog once again — until Friday, when we commence a massive cookery project to feed family during a delayed solstice celebration on Saturday (some folks call this “Christmas”).
It has been my practice to whip up some weirdo feast — a massive New Mexican meal, chicken cacciatore, just about anything other than turkey with all the trimmings. But this year, it’s the bird, goddamnit, ’scuse me, with mashed Yukon Gold potatoes, giblet gravy, stuffing, a green salad, raspberry cobbler, the works. The only semi-oddball on the menu is a side dish, stir-fried succotash with edamame, from “Recipes for Health” by Martha Rose Shulman.
Anyway, the dinner is secondary. I want the leftovers. Turkey sandwiches, turkey hash, turkey soup, turkey enchiladas — yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. Yum, yum, gimme some.
Come Near Year’s, I should weigh slightly more than Jon Kyle’s bruised and swollen ego and slightly less than Lindsey Graham’s ass-kissing lips.
Independent Bernie Sanders is on a tear on the Senate floor, filibustering the prez’s tax-cut bargain old-school style — by speaking at length. And I do mean at length. He’s been at it since this morning, railing against the capitalists and for the working stiffs, and shows no signs of running down.
“It is a proposal which gives much too much to people who don’t need it,” he says, and more than once, too. “I think we can do a lot better.”
From your voice to God’s ears, Bernie. Let’s just hope He’s not hanging around with the Appliantologists down at Joe’s Garage.
• Late update: Aw, too bad — Bernie finally yielded the floor … after more than nine hours. Chapeau to the man from the great state of Vermont.
When the prez was unbuckling his belt, letting his pants slide to the floor and assuming the position in front of Pumpkinhead and the rest of the GOP caucus, I wonder if the video clip at top was playing in his head.
Or perhaps, he was doing his Zappadan obeisance, taking his cue from FZ’s “Keep It Greasey”:
