Ho boy. If Kevin Smith isn’t all over this, he should be. “Clerks III: Roll Another One.” It’d beat the hell out of being a clerk at the Quick Stop, or an independent contractor on the Death Star.
Jay and Silent Bob would have to hustle to sell weed outside it, though. Maybe Trek could kick in a couple e-bikes so they could keep up.
The speaker of the House lays an epic troll on Il Douche, suggesting that he postpone his State of the Union speech or submit it in writing.
I dunno. I don’t remember anything in the Constitution about black crayon and Big Chief tablets. Y’think he can manage it in 280 characters?
That’s what I call some prime-time Pelosi.
While the shit-mist continues to blot out Old Sol in DeeCee, we’ve had a little sunshine in our back door today.
Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment) had been under the weather about a month back, and so I chauffeured him to his personal physician, who diagnosed a bit of arthritis in the hips and (of all things) a pair of stones in his bladder, an affliction with which we are all too familiar.
The vet recommended that we replace his dry kibble with a canned prescription diet and a side of nutriceutical antiinflammatory, then come back in 30 days to see whether the change in cuisine would solve the issue without more heroic measures.
If It didn’t — well, as I noted, we’ve been down this stony road before with the late, lamented Mister Boo. And we were not looking forward to approving yet another round of surgery on yet another of our comrades.
Today was the day for His Excellency’s followup visit, and not only did the Turk pass with flying colors (and without knifework), he’s actually shed a few ounces on the new diet.
Since his rock has apparently rolled, I played him a little Jimi to celebrate.
OK, lemme see if I have this right here:
It’s a disgrace to ask whether the pestilence of the Benighted States is a useful idiot stooging for the Russians.
But it’s OK to ask whether his predecessor was a Kenyan Muslim socialist not born in this country.
Got it.
The pestilence of the Benighted States, Wally O’Steele, a.k.a. Artie Deal, wants a Big, Beautiful Wall® at the nation’s southern boundary to keep brown people* from crossing the border to work anywhere other than at his hotels or golf courses.
Unable to procure funding for same, he has instead walled off the feddle gummint from its own tax-paying citizens, idling more than a few of them in the process and forcing others to work without pay while selling their Christmas presents on eBay to keep from freezing to death in the dark.
It’s a hard reign, and the water — if that’s what it is — just keeps rising.
Man the lifeboats and rig for heavy seas, matey — it’s the latest episode of Radio Free Dogpatch.
* Russian oligarchs and Saudi princelings get a pass, of course, along with a coupon for a complimentary fluff and fold at Artie Deal’s Motor Inn & Money Laundry.
• Technical notes: This episode was recorded with a Shure SM58 microphone and a Zoom H5 Handy Recorder. Additional bad noise via an Audio-Technica ATR2100-USB mic and a Sony ICD-UX533. I edited this hot mess using a Behringer XENYX 1200USB mixer wired to a 2014 MacBook Pro with an external LG 24MP59HT-P monitor and Apple’s GarageBand. Obligatory Cultural References From Bygone Days© courtesy the Bard of Hibbing.
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