Posts Tagged ‘impeachment’

Shell game

January 14, 2021

The Turtle won’t stick his neck out. Original photo by Susan Walsh | AP

With ’Is Lardship’s second impeachment in hand, The World’s Greatest Deliberative Body™ does … fuck-all.

According to The New York Times, the Turtle has rejected a plea by Democrats to recall the Senate and go to trial. After the House vote to impeach, he said there was “simply no chance that a fair or serious trial could conclude” before Sleepy Joe’s inauguration next week.

In low tones that for some reason emitted from the rear of his shell, The Turtle spake thusly:

“I believe it will best serve our nation if Congress and the executive branch spend the next seven days completely focused on facilitating a safe inauguration and an orderly transfer of power to the incoming Biden administration.”

O, to be sure. The People’s Business been uppermost on his devious little mind ever since he discovered he could run it at a profit for himself.

The good news? The Turtle is said to have sworn that he will never again speak to ’Is Lardship. Boy, that’ll show ’em.

Going down with the shit?

January 13, 2021

His Lardship in the Porcelain Throne.

After Adolf Twitler rode to victory on the shoulders of his Brown Noses I argued that he would survive in office exactly as long as the Elefinks and their mahouts felt he still had some value to them, and no longer.

Have they finally squeezed him dry, with a week remaining in his term, which has become our sentence? Is there no more golden juice in the Orange?

Representatives and senators take an oath to “support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic,” and Adolf is demonstrably the latter. Whether they honor their oaths remains to be seen. That oath, in and of itself, should be enough for honorable people.

Impeach. Convict. Remove. Period.

 

Shall we dance?

January 11, 2021

I love a good musical. This ain’t one of ’em.

On a bright cloud of bullshit shall we fly?

Kentucky Fried Chickenshit

February 5, 2020

Col. Turtle filled the bucket for the Fat Man.

A Royal Flush, or Circling the Bowl

February 4, 2020

Goddamnit, this one will not go down!

What a week. And we’re only at Tuesday.

On Monday, the Donks intercoursed the penguin most savagely with an Iowa caucus that resembled nothing so much as the Batley Townswomens’ Guild’s re-enactment of the Battle of Pearl Harbor, only without the funny bits.

Come Tuesday, we got a twofer: First, the Senate “debating” whether to remove King Donald the Short-fingered from his golden throne; and the State of the Union Address, which seems certain to be even less funny than the Senate, the Iowa caucus, and the Batley Townswomens’ Guild.

And come Wednesday, His Lardship will skate on all charges, have Stephanie Grisham squeegee all those senatorial lip prints off his fat ass, and get back to wiping it with the world.

As if all this weren’t bad enough, well, I bring still more evil tidings — yes, yes, yes, it’s time for more political-science fiction from the K-9 Caucus at Radio Free Dogpatch!

Gosh. Whatever will Thursday bring? And News Dump Friday is gonna have to up its game big-time if it wants to keep being more than just another day of the week.

P L A Y    R A D I O    F R E E    D O G P A T C H

• Technical notes: This episode was recorded with a Shure SM58 microphone and a Zoom H5 Handy Recorder, then edited in Apple’s GarageBand on the 13-inch 2014 MacBook Pro. Post-production voodoo by Auphonic. The background music is “The Throne Room” from Sir Cubworth, via the YouTube Audio Library. The golf shot and crowd noise come from craigsmith at Freesound.org. Clock ticking and alarm ringing are straight from the iMovie sound-effects bin. And the sound of the world swirling down the loo? That comes straight from the guest bath at El Rancho Pendejo.

Mythed me!

January 31, 2020

Keep looking, sport. They’re out there, somewhere.
I read it on the Internet, so it must be true.

Well, I’d say this ought to park the mythical Moderate Republican right alongside Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster and the Easter Bunny.

It won’t, of course. But it should.

Good God almighty. A skeleton has more guts than this lot.

The Peach Mint Lollipop, or ‘Hello, Sucker’

January 22, 2020

Be careful what you ask for, they say.

I asked for impeachment. And now that I’ve gotten it. …

Well, for one, it looked a lot better online.

Two, it seems several sizes too small.

And three, it smells funny, like maybe a turtle dragged it down a toilet.

Nevertheless, here it is. And here we are, striding boldly down the runway wearing yet another fashionable edition of Radio Free Dogpatch.

 

P L A Y    R A D I O    F R E E    D O G P A T C H

• Technical notes: This episode was recorded with a Shure SM58 microphone and a Zoom H5 Handy Recorder, then edited in Apple’s GarageBand on the 13-inch 2014 MacBook Pro. The background music is “Dramatic Climax” from Zapsplat.com. The party chatter comes from dbspin at Freesound.org with an underlay of “Buddy,” an iMovie jingle. And Nick Danger (“All Things Firesign”), Mark Time (“Dear Friends”), and Principal Poop (“Don’t Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers”) appear courtesy of The Firesign Theatre, without whom none of this would have been necessary.

Bringing down the House

January 17, 2020

The House managers walk the articles of impeachment over to the Senate.

Seems they’ve found a king who has got shit all over ’im.

Get out

January 15, 2020

First trip up this rocky little slope my wind jacket slid out of my
handlebar bag. Good thing it didn’t wind up tangled in the spokes
or I might have lost some psi from my head.

Speaking of flats, I went out looking for some today.

I was actually shooting some video of the Cannondale Topstone 105 for Adventure Cyclist, but you never know. Sometimes you shoot the cycling, and sometimes the cycling shoots you.

But not this time. Not this time. The tires, in case you were wondering, are WTB Riddlers in 700×37, and I’ve already flatted the rear once.

Today’s ride also served nicely to flush out the old headgear. We watched some of the Democratic “debate” last night, and this morning brought more impeachment drama, so, yeah, definitely time to get moving, preferably away from all news sources.

Didn’t hurt that the temps were in the mid-50s. Dude grinding past on a mountain bike sez to me, he sez, “What a perfectly terrible day.”

“Awful,” I agreed, adding, “Try not to suffer too much.”

The suffering will arrive tomorrow, in the form of a winter storm. Happily, I have video to edit, which should distract me from whatever befalls us, from the skies or the scribes.

Showing the colors

December 19, 2019

A blast from the past, repurposed for 2019.

Well, the package is under the Christmas tree, but it’s not exactly what we hoped for, is it?

It’s a lot smaller than we thought, for starters. Missing a few pieces, seems like.

And we won’t get much time to play with it. A bunch of smirking old men wearing American-flag lapel pins are gonna take it away from us, just because they can. Doesn’t matter that we paid for it. Or that we’ll keep paying for it, for years.

When Vito Corpulento rose to power I thought that maybe, just maybe, the GOP would eventually wipe the blood off its flabby mitts, look around at the wreckage of the Republic, and say, “Whew. Well, we got almost everything we needed from the loony bastard. He’s not even a made guy. Let’s kick him to the curb.”

Wrong. The GOP is a gang, like the Gambino family, the Klan, or the Hells Angels. And gangs under attack tend to overlook any niggling internal disagreements.

Hunter S. Thompson wrote about the Angels as a tuneup for writing about Nixon, and tell me if this quote from a Frisco Angel doesn’t sound like your modern Republican Party:

“Our motto, man, is ‘All on One and One on All.’ You mess with an Angel and you’ve got twenty-five of them on your neck. I mean, they’ll break you but good, baby.”

They couldn’t do shit in the House except make a lot of bad noise, like a poorly tuned Harley. That’s the junior chapter over there, a bunch of prospects on mopeds, hoping to wear the colors some day. Good luck with that. The Senate wouldn’t let a bag of farts like Louie Gohmert in the back door to swab out the toilets after Taco Tuesday if he promised to use his tongue.

No, the Senate is strictly for the heavy hitters. It’s where business gets done. And by “done,” I mean done.

“Package? What package?” smirks The Turtle. “We never got no package from those guys. What could I tell you? But hey, it’s the holidays. There’s a lot going on. It’ll turn up, someday, maybe.

“Now get the fuck out of here. We’re doing business. Family business. And you don’t look like family to me.”