Sen. Jim Bunning (R-Jim Beam) is not only a major-league shithead, he’s a major-league shithead without the courage of his convictions — he dropped his one-eejit crusade against extending unemployment benefits last night.
Of course, “courage” is hardly the word to use here. Dubbed “The Underperformer” by Time magazine in a 2006 article discussing America’s five worst senators, Bunning wouldn’t have dared take such a stand were he not retiring from the Senate. To do so would’ve have taken actual balls instead of the substitutes he played with while pitching baseball instead of fits.
One thing I don’t understand: Why has nobody asked whether Bunning was such a deficit hawk when the Daffy-Fudd cabal was running two unfunded wars? Probably because the press knows it won’t have him to kick around much longer. Lazy pricks.
You ain't gonna be spendin' no 40 days an' nights wanderin' ’roun' this desert, bo'. Move along, move along.
If Christ were to begin wandering around our local wilderness, collecting disciples and preaching sermons, sooner or later he and they would run afoul of Bibleburg’s latest ordinance forbidding camping on public property.
The ordinance is both shameful and silly in that it (a) demonstrates the lack of compassion in the black, withered heart of Industrial Christianity and (b) will be impossible to enforce.
Regarding the former, I always thought that it was the money-changers who were supposed to get tossed out of the temple, not the poor and helpless. As for the latter, if I’m a stony-broke homeless guy living in a tent by the creek and a cop hands me a ticket, I’m wiping my ass with it and sending it downstream to Pueblo. Put me in jail for noncompliance and I’m enjoying three hots and a cot, plus regular showers, at taxpayer expense. Shameful and silly, as I said.
Homelessness is a real problem, for the campers and the Chamber of Commerce alike, but there is no one-size-fits-all solution. Some campers are just down on their luck and awaiting better days. Others are mentally ill, addicted to this or that, and perpetually in need of social services that are either stretched beyond the breaking point or simply unavailable. And still others are real, honest-to-God hobos who prefer nibbling along the tattered edges of our consumer culture to diving in head first. Treating them all the same is absurd.
The private sector, various non-profits and individual volunteers are doing what they can. One local businessman sees an opportunity to house the homeless in a former KOA campground off South Nevada Avenue, but the city is standing in his way.
Many a passage from the Sermon on the Mount comes to mind here. Let’s try this one on for size — Matthew 8:21-23:
Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.
Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?
And then I will profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.
We enjoyed a beautiful morning today in Bibleburg. There was finally enough snow to shovel, just barely, and the Big Yellow Ball In the Sky took a valiant stab at burning through the clouds that have been hovering overhead for the past few days.
Herself has returned from a sun-splashed weekend in Palm Springs and is very much not amused by the conditions here, especially since she has to drive to the office in Denver shortly. This is not unlike entering a demolition derby held on ice, driving your good car instead of some beater.
Last night, as I was gingerly negotiating the slippery streets en route to the Bibleburg Intergalactic Airport to fetch her home, I saw any number of speeding nitwits piloting two-wheel drive vehicles one-handed while jabbering away on their phones. Why not just stay home and shoot yourself in the head? That way you’re performing a public service instead of being a public menace.
Speaking of public menaces, don’t miss this Mother Jones story on the Oath Keepers, a so-called “patriot” organization whose core is men and women in uniform. You can’t grow up in the military or live where I’ve lived without meeting people like this, and they’re much more frightening than their leftist counterparts, with whom I palled around in my younger, dumber days.
I occasionally consider selling my guns. Then I read a piece like this and check to see whether they’re all still loaded, with extra magazines and speedloaders within easy reach.
Bibleburg has become a laboratory for neotard Grover Frankenquist’s dream experiment — shrinking government to the point where it can be drowned in a Hilton bathtub by a skinny chickenhawk — and wouldn’t you know it? That darned left-wing commniss media has done took notice.
Naturally, the story in the local cage-liner is about the darned left-wing commniss media taking notice rather than the appalling state of the local body politic, which seems to think that one digs potatoes from gravy and that God will water the parks, if He’s not too dehydrated from pissing on the fags.
This dim viewpoint may have its roots in our economic base, an unholy trinity of the industrial Christian, military and tourism complexes. As another Gaslight story notes, while we enjoy a low cost of living — 7.7 percent below the national average in 2009 — we also make shit for wages, a realization that first drove me out of town in the late Seventies:
“Colorado Springs may seem like a bargain area in which to live, but we are no better off living here because our average wages are 8 to 10 percent below the national average,” said Fred Crowley, senior economist for the Southern Colorado Economic Forum. “There is no prize for this race to the bottom.”
Aw, c’mon, Fred — haven’t you ever heard of the lanterne rouge?
Tom Tancredo, the gift that keeps on giving. Addressing the so-called “Tea Party convention” in Nashville, the former congressman (R-Tinfoil Beanie) and nativist nitwit said the nation should require “civics-literacy tests” of its voters.
“People who could not even spell the word ‘vote’ or say it in English put a committed socialist ideologue in the White House,” Tancredo oinked in his opening-day speech Thursday. “His name is Barack Hussein Obama.”
Careful what you wish for, Tommy old boy. I’m guessing that most of the homegrown mouth-breathers who inflicted you upon the nation’s capital back in the day think Jefferson Davis was Grace Slick’s old band, a filibuster is a cowboy who specializes in saddle-breaking mares, and cloture is some kind of gay French fashion.
Your base couldn’t distinguish the Bill of Rights from the Communist Manifesto unless it was tattooed on Caribou Barbie’s tits, and thus under your proposal the prototypical Tancredo supporter would have as much chance of voting in an American election as Raul Castro.
