Posts Tagged ‘Agent Orange’

WWFP (What Would Frank Play), Part II

December 6, 2016

What would Frank Zappa play as Agent Orange assembles his Cabinet of tools, fools and ghouls? Why, “I’m the Slime,” of course.

The sky is crying

October 8, 2016
Can you see the tears roll down the street?

Can you see the tears roll down the street?

This is what we have today. Heaven must be weeping over the stumbles of the Chosen One, who spake loudly and profanely of his desire to be fruitful and multiply with ladies of the female persuasion to whom he was not bound by holy matrimony.

Some of the lesser rats are leaping over the side of this leaky, gold-plated yacht, but it’s too early to tell whether they’ll swim to safety or sink like furry little stones.

The fattest rodents remain on deck, however, with dampened pinkies and flared nostrils testing the wind. Is that water down there or just more of the shit we’re already in, only deeper?

Paul “Lyin'” Ryan is stuck in a Shylockian crisis of his own making (“O, my daughter! O, my ducats!”). He wants it bad in 2020, but does he look principled or premeditated if he rescinds his support now, despite all the other crimes against the Republic committed by Agent Orange?

It’s enough to give a man the blues, for sure.

Welcome Matt

October 7, 2016
Definitely a hint of fall in the air, and in the trees as well.

Definitely a hint of fall in the air, and in the trees as well.

One of my brothers-in-law recently took a job in Florida — the east coast, naturally — and looks like the welcome wagon has finally rolled up.

No worries. As Hurricane Matthew came a-calling he evacuated westward to a town just outside Chez Mouse, and with any luck at all, he’s just getting his windows washed for free. My bro’-in-law, not Mickey. The sis-in-law is still up north, wrapping up their affairs there.

Here in the Duke City the mornings and evenings have grown brisk, but the days themselves remain stellar. I went for a nice hike in the foothills yesterday so I could get a little October sunshine on my head. And today I plan a mountain-bike ride while everyone else in town is milling around at the balloon festival.

If I want any gasbag action, I’ll check the news when I get home. Whoops, there it is. 

Well, bust my balloons

October 2, 2016
"Where the hell are all the balloons?"

“Where the hell are all the balloons?”

Herself and I cycled over to the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta yesterday to see what it was all about.

Mostly it was all about RVs. Seriously. We didn’t see a single, solitary balloon. But we did see about eleventy-bazillion dollars’ worth of houses on the hoof, taking up all the ordinarily vacant acreage for miles around.

Turns out that we arrived between shows. There’s a whole lot of not much going on between 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. I saw more action during the last day of Interbike, f’chrissakes.

Still, it was a nice ride, exactly 23 miles; the bike paths there and back were not bumper to bumper; and our recreational vehicles took up less parking space once we got them home.

Later we learned via The New York Times that the increasingly deranged Agent Orange apparently pays less income tax than a freelance scribbler. So, of course, do GE, Boeing, Verizon, Bank of America, etc., et al., and so on and so forth.

Lady Liberty must be feeling a bit like Lili Von Schtupp, with all these cowboys giving her the business. So … tired.

Balloons and other gasbags

October 1, 2016
I'd have snapped some balloons if we weren't squatting down here in this cul-de-sac, out of line-of-sight.

I’d have snapped some balloons if we weren’t squatting down here in this cul-de-sac, out of line-of-sight. Clouds will have to suffice.

It’s the first day of October, and the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta is under way.

Looks like a beautiful day for flying, if only to get above the weed pollen (snurk, gnunk, hoccccccck, ptui).

Elsewhere, the giant orange gasbag that has been hovering above our national politics continues to shower those below with a particularly acidic rain. I don’t think they have a toilet up there. I do think USADA should dope-test this silly tangerine turdblossom. I used to talk a lot of shit at 3 a.m, too, and I know exactly what I was on.

Seriously, I expect Agent Orange to kick off the next debate by telling The Hilldebeast, “Say, you don’t sweat much for a fat chick.”

Meanwhile, cycling defeated technology yesterday. I went for a short, delightful ‘cross-bike ride on the neighborhood trails, and while I wore my Shimano Sport Cam, thinking to amuse all y’all with a short POV video, Herself and I agreed that the result would not be toppling Danny MacAskill as the King of YouTube anytime soon. Just another face on the cutting-room floor.

Smart Alex

September 27, 2016
Alex gives the debate two thumbs down. Or he would, if he weren't strapped into his chair.

Alex gives the debate two thumbs down. Or he would, if he weren’t strapped into his chair.

Somewhere in the afterlife, Steve Jobs is thinking, “Damn, and I thought I had a reality-distortion field.”

Yes, we watched last night’s “debate,” and we won’t be watching any more of them, thanks all the same. Too much TV helped us get into this mess, and more of it will not help us get out.

This morning I took a quick glance around the Innertubes and if last night’s faceoff moved the electoral needle a silly millimeter one way or the other I was unable to find any evidence of it.

I’m starting to think that the only way to pry an acolyte or two away from Agent Orange is to catch him in bed on prime time snorting blow off an 18-year-old undocumented gay hooker on welfare who is both an ISIS mole and a fraudulently registered Democrat. Either that or he starts eating live puppies instead of taco bowls.

And I certainly don’t expect him to have a come-to-Jesus moment anytime soon, not even a pretend one, the way Alex did. One of us will take a long step off a very high place first, and it won’t be him.

Just before dark

September 16, 2016
Good thing I gave up the acid before moving to New Mexico.

Good thing I gave up the acid before moving to New Mexico.

Here’s a snap from around sundown, taken from the entryway to El Rancho Pendejo. Lots easier to look at than the news lately.

As James Fallows notes at The Atlantic, “the effective merger of the entertainment and political-campaign industries” continues apace with Der Trumpenführer making a playful appearance on “The Tonight Show.” Host Jimmy Fallon and executive producer Lorne Michaels — who also arranged a ha-ha handjob for Agent Orange on “Saturday Night Live” — deserve public dick-punches for enabling this particular fool.

Blue skies, white clouds and green chile. Yum.

Blue skies, white clouds and green chile. Yum.

Also at The Atlantic, David Graham wonders just why The Hildebeast is running for the presidency. A little late for this sort of thing, but yeah. And a great lede: “Hillary Clinton is back on her feet. Now, what does she stand for?”

Elsewhere, the media scrambled to cover “a major announcement” from Agent Orange that was nothing more than free publicity for his new DC hotel. No link because, duh.

“Like a five-buck violin, cable news. Like a five-buck violin,” tweeted Charles P. Pierce (@ESQPolitics).

Added Matthew Yglesias (@mattyglesias): “All future presidential campaigns will be lightly disguised infomercials for hotel chains.”

Meanwhile, here in the Duke City, the forecast is for puffy clouds followed by sunshine and a high in the 70s. We got that and green chile. Don’t tell the media.