Archive for the ‘Politics’ Category

Toast

November 9, 2020

The only things missing are the man-bun and the ironic facial hair.

No, not him. I’m talking about the famous Hipster Avocado Toast a la Señor Dog of Albuquerque.

The other day I bought a six-pack of avocados to chop into a rough salsa for a batch of chipotle-honey chicken tacos. This proved to be about four too many, so there you have it. The bread is a robust whole-wheat number from the Toastmaster Bread Box recipe booklet.

It seems a good day to crouch behind the parapets, nibbling tasty bits and dodging dispatches from the Bananas Republic. This just in: GOP sticks fingers in ears and goes “LA LA LA LA LA LA LA,” how the Donks will fuck this up, everybody hates everybody else, etc., et al., and so on and so forth.

Nature abhors a vacuum, and so does the 24/7 news cycle. Happily, we still have a couple avocados left.

Some Saturday silliness

November 7, 2020

The sun starts to peek over the Sandias.

OK, it’s been a little dark lately, and it may get darker still.

So today, while we wait for the poor sods tasked with deciphering the wishes of the electorate to finish their thankless chore, here are a few items that made Herself and I giggle like schoolchildren this morning.

• Say what? Sign-language interpreter translates heckler shouting “Fuck you!” at Hawaii mayor.

• Talk about your pinkos: Trump backers tricked into joining “Gay Communists for Socialism” on Facebook.

• Avoid the void: The void is full. Please stop screaming into it.

’Wave bye-bye, you filthy meat-things

November 2, 2020

Herb-E doesn’t understand the democratic process.
Come to think of it, neither do many of the filthy meat-things.

As long as we’re on the topic of cartoons, and with a jaundiced eye toward lightening our mood going into Election Day, here’s the latest “Shop Talk” strip from Bicycle Retailer and Industry News.

For this one I retitled the strip “E-Shop Talk,” and cast Herb-E in the starring role.

Herb-E is the shop’s e-mechanic, in all senses of the word. He’s a bot who works on other bots. And he is decidedly not our friend.

He and all the other e-devices the industry is pushing on us are biding their time, plotting the Rise of the Machines, turning the occasional burglar into lubricants for practice, and awaiting the glorious day when they will no longer require the services of “the filthy meat-things.”

Herb-E is cousin to ev-Rider (below), a short-lived and equally homicidal e-project from 2016, intended to continue “the natural evolution” of battery-powered bicycling by selling robot cyclists to the sedentary.

As the ev-Rider rep told the Mud Stud and Dude, “When only robots ride bikes, well, your customers can focus on what they really care about … kitten videos on Facebook!”

Speaking of the Stud and his bro, while one or the other takes an occasional issue off, the November 2020 cartoon above marks the first time that neither of them appeared in the strip since it launched in January 1992.

When bicycles are bots, only bots will have bicycles.

Two weeks

October 20, 2020

Flush twice, it’s a long way to Leavenworth.

Hard to believe, innit? Wasn’t it just the other day that we were all sitting in front of our TVs as the election returns began unfolding like the wings of a giant vampire bat, or maybe Rodan the Flying Monster, and we began discussing our options for the next four years?

“Ireland?”

“No, too damp. I’d start drinking again for sure.”

“Canada?”

“Too nice. We wouldn’t fit in. I wouldn’t, anyway.”

“Argentina?”

“Hey, if we wanted to while away the hours around a bunch of old Nazis we could just move back to Bibleburg.”

Now, suddenly, here we are, two weeks away from our last chance to chase Adolf Twitler and his Brown Noses out of the White House before they finish gutting the place like crackheads stripping a squat for its copper wire.

I was running a couple errands yesterday and took another glance at our neighborhood polling place as I passed. The line was even longer than on Saturday, this time stretching all the way around two sides of the strip mall and out of my sight as I barreled down Montgomery in the usual thundering herd of honking land yachts.

I chose to interpret this as a good sign. No, not the land yachts. The line. Angry people ring other people up, write letters to the editor, and vote.

I choose to hope — yes, there’s that word again — that this time the right people are angry for the right reasons.

Yeah, yeah, I know. “Hope in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up faster.”

Still, what the hell else can you do? Unless you like living in a Tom Waits song.

Out out out!

October 17, 2020

No disrespect intended to the men and women of the U.S. Postal Service, but this absentee ballot is being hand-delivered.

We have voted the rascals out. You’re welcome.

Yesterday we voted ourselves out, for a quick five-mile march through the foothills.

Walking the Dog. Photo: Herself

It was a brisk morning, and we didn’t get out until noonish, because the sun doesn’t clear the Sandias at Rancho Pendejo until sometime after 9 and we’re rarely in a rush unless Herself has a long list of chores to be accomplished, which come to think of it is almost always.

The Merrell Moab 2 Mid Ventilator boots have broken in nicely after about 20 miles of light hoofing, and this morning I planted one of them in Adolf Twitler’s oversized fundament, metaphorically speaking.

It’s my second try at kicking his fat butt; let’s hope this time it helps do the job.

If the boots get ’er done, I’ll buy a second pair, because it seems that every time I find footwear that suits my dogs, that model is instantaneously discontinued and replaced with some Nazi bondage gear.

There’s always the stick, of course. But I don’t think the SS boyos will let me anywhere near Adolf if I’m waving Ol’ Hickory around and screeching about going all Andy Jackson on his ass.

 

Some like it hot

September 17, 2020

Lessee, there’s freedom of the press, freedom of speech,
and freedom to run like hell from the cops with their heat ray. Got it.

H.G. Wells got it wrong. Mars isn’t the problem.

Before the feds drove protesters from Lafayette Square in June, according to an Army National Guard major who was there, the Defense Department’s top military police officer in the Washington region emailed officers in the D.C. National Guard to ask whether the unit had “a microwave-like weapon called the Active Denial System, which was designed by the military to make people feel like their skin is burning when in range of its invisible rays.”

According to The Washington Post:

The technology, also called a “heat ray,” was developed to disperse large crowds in the early 2000s but was shelved amid concerns about its effectiveness, safety and the ethics of using it on human beings.

Pentagon officials were reluctant to use the device in Iraq. In late 2018, The New York Times reported, the Trump administration had weighed using the device on migrants at the U.S.-Mexico border — an idea shot down by Kirstjen Nielsen, then the Homeland Security secretary, citing humanitarian concerns.

But in the email, on which DeMarco was copied, the lead military police officer in the National Capital Region wrote the ADS device “can provide our troops a capacity they currently do not have, the ability to reach out and engage potential adversaries at distances well beyond small arms range, and in a safe, effective, and nonlethal manner.”

Federal police ultimately were unable to obtain a heat ray device — or an LRAD — during the early days of protests in D.C., according to the Defense Department official.

“During the early days,” hey? Don’t forget to wear your Alcoa cammies when you’re out smashing the state, boys and girls. And spray yourself with a little olive oil, maybe stuff a few onions, taters, and carrots into your undies. The “Martians” are going to need a lunch break at some point.

Getting Nazty in North Carolina

August 24, 2020

The GOP goosesteps into the spotlight this week.

More than three stooges this time, though.

I want to go home

August 12, 2020

Vote early, vote often.

Omen? Maybe. When Sleepy Joe and Nasty Kamala took the stage in Delaware, KUNM was playing “The Sloop John B.”

Let me go home
Why don’t they let me go home
This is the worst trip I’ve ever been on

Worst. Trip. Ever.

There’s your ticket. It may not be progressives’ idea of Disneyland, but compared to “Pirates of Mar-a-Lago” it looks pretty Magic fuckin’ Kingdom to me.

So let’s take the ride. Biden-Harris 2020.

LUG rides again!

May 14, 2020

Remember this guy? He’s gonna be on Zoom and ESPN.
And here I always thought he had a radio face, too.

This time around, the acronym stands for “Legislative Update Guy,” and the live updates will include a video component.

No, not old “Monty Python” clips. Go and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person.

My old Live Update Guy comrade Charles Pelkey and his fellow Wyoming state legislators will be participating in a special session via Zoom beginning Friday. And yes, we can watch. And without having to drop any of our DonnyDollars® into the Tip Jar!

Bonus! Winning! So. Much. Winning.

Charles rang me up last night to wish us a belated happy wedding anniversary and we spent a few minutes catching up. In addition to attending virtual special sessions of the leg’, he’s continuing to practice law, and while he’s not exactly burning up Wyoming’s roads on the old two-wheeler these days, he is finding time to do a bit of walking.

He’s also appearing in the latest HWSNBN documentary, “Lance,” as you can see from the screen grab above, which I liberated from the trailer.

Filmmaker Marina Zenovich has directed works on Robin Williams, Richard Pryor, and Roman Polanski. I don’t believe I’ve seen any of them, and I don’t believe I’ll be seeing this one either, having exactly zero interest in the latest version of Ol’ Whatsisface’s “truth.”

But it was cool to get a live update from an old pal.

Make it March

March 1, 2020

We got some Sandia pink going on in the backyard
this first morning of March.

Buds on the maple, bits of grass peeking out, and some pretty pink clouds. Well done, Yahweh.

Elsewhere, I see the media are finally getting the story they’ve been craving — Daffy Uncle Joe Resurgent, a.k.a. “dude just won his first primary in three presidential campaigns,” and he had to go to what Chazbo Pierce calls “the home office of American sedition” to git ’er done, with a big assist from Rep. Jim Clyburn.

Now that they’ve got it, of course, they have to dry-hump it. What next? Does Daffy have Big Mo®? Will Comrade Eeyore hammer ’n’ sickle him on Super Tuesday? What about “the remaining candidates?” Etc.

Over at the WaPo, Dan Balz notices the same thing I did: The networks (and the WaPo, and the NYT) all called it for Daffy about 30 seconds after the polls closed, based on exit polling, with something like 1 percent of the vote actually tallied.

Notes Balz: “That guaranteed him hours of positive analysis on cable television and the setting of a narrative favorable to him between now and [Super] Tuesday.”

It’s all about the narrative, bay-beee.