Posts Tagged ‘Insane Clown Pussy’

Chill

November 10, 2016
Baby, it's cold outside.

Baby, it’s cold outside.

This morning the furnace fired up for the first time this fall.

If this had happened Tuesday evening, I might have considered it an omen. But on Thursday? It’s November, man. It had to happen sometime.

And so, too, probably, did Donald Trump.

Maybe Wisconsin should have been our canary in the coal mine. This former case study in the practical application of progressive politics has turned into its Bizarro World doppleganger, inexplicably clinging to its numbnuts Gov. Scott Walker like some sort of smelly security blanket and telling Russ Feingold to go fuck himself.

Walker the presidential candidate didn’t even make it to the Iowa caucuses, dropping out of the race in September 2015, and we all had a good laugh about how his lame little act wasn’t ready for prime time.

And then Insane Clown Pussy made it all the way to the finish line.

You’ll find any number of analyses for why this played out the way it did, but I find myself agreeing with Kevin Drum and Charles P. Pierce, who think it has a lot to do with what Drum politely calls “racial and cultural identity,” Pierce calls “nativist racism,” and I call “assholes.” (Hey, I don’t have any advertisers to take offense.)

What does it all mean? There are plenty of deep thoughts about that floating around too, and I imagine you’ve already seen, heard, read or had many of them.

But for starters, it means that once again the GOP has done an “Exorcist”-style about-face on just about everything it’s claimed to hold dear whenever Democrats are in charge: Filibusters are bad; the Electoral College is good; and only “spoiled crybabies” dare question the legitimacy of a duly elected president.

What do we do next? Pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and get back after it — hopefully a little wiser for the experience.*

As E.J. Dionne writes: “(W)e cannot allow fear or anger to drive us from the field. If ever our nation needed a determined, thoughtful and creative opposition, it is now.”

* Speaking of “thoughtful and creative,” let’s not burn any flags, OK? Bad optics, don’t you know. I thought that shit was stupid even when I was a hippie.

 

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Posted in Agitprop | 4 Comments »

It can happen here

November 5, 2016
Impressionist, que no? I shot it through the window. Hey, it's raining out there. You want I should get a camera wet for free?

Impressionistical, que no? I shot it through the window. Hey, it’s raining out there. You want I should get a camera wet for free?

We’ve finally gotten a little rain after the second warmest October on record, and maybe one of the driest, too; more than a quarter inch of precip’ below normal.

As with most things, this is both good and bad.

The good? When things are wet, they often fail to catch fire. Also, water is nice for drinking, bathing and growing things to look at and/or eat.

The bad? Sitting as it does at the bottom of a cul-de-sac at the western edge of a mountain range, El Rancho Pendejo is already a little on the dark side, as is my outlook most days. And when the sun goes away for a spell, things in these parts can get blacker than a sleeping MacBook’s display.

So with each fresh poll the equivalent of a cherry bomb in a chicken coop I’m getting a mild case of The Fear as the 2016 election staggers to a close.

Anybody who tells you s/he knows that all will be well in the end is full of shit to the sideburns. Americans are already pretty la-di-da about exercising their franchise, our least-difficult path toward effecting change, armed insurrection being slightly more onerous (or so I’m told). And the GOP has been busily scratching that oh-hell-why-bother itch by turning what should be the simple act of casting a ballot into the sort of customer-service experience we already enjoy in the private sector.

Here’s Charles P. Pierce on the voter-suppression battles being waged from coast to coast.

Here’s Ari Berman of The Nation on the reduction in polling places following the gutting of the Voting Rights Act by the U.S. Supreme Court.

Here’s The Guardian reporting on the upshot of Insane Clown Pussy’s call for his shock troops to monitor what he’s said will be a “rigged” election.

Can't it? We'll see.

Can’t it? We’ll see.

And so on. Look around, you’ll find more examples.

The Republic has weathered a lot of storms, and this may be nothing more than an especially nasty stretch of rough weather before the sun pops out again.

But I keep thinking back to the old Red Lewis novel “It Can’t Happen Here,” which I read ages ago, and which the Berkeley Repertory Theatre turned into a play, which wraps tomorrow.

If you haven’t read the book, do so. The language is a little dated, and it can seem wildly over the top at times. But so can this election, and yet there it is, happening right before your eyes.

“It Can’t Happen Here” certainly opened the eyes belonging to writer-director Tony Taccone, who called the parallels between the fictional struggle and Election 2016 “shocking; they’re honestly shocking.”

“What it says, what it really puts out there is, if you become complacent or lazy or you think that the issues that are being discussed in Washington, the politics doesn’t have an effect on your lives, you’re wrong. You’re wrong. The decisions that are being made — by the Congress, by the Supreme Court, by the local legislature, by your city council — affect your life,” Taccone said.

“And it is in your interest to understand as best you can what those issues are, to try to find a voice and agency inside of those issues, to find a community and help them to build a dialogue,” he added. “And my God, if that isn’t the lesson of the last nine months, what is?”

So you think it can’t happen here? Read the book, take a good look around, and get back to me.

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Posted in Agitprop, Arts & letters, Deep political thought, FreeDumb®, High-falutin' literary matters, Rain, Viewing with alarm | 11 Comments »

November surprise

November 2, 2016
"Wake me when it's over," says the Turk. I'll need a spatula to flip him from time to time so he doesn't get bedsores.

“Wake me when it’s over,” says the Turk. I’ll need a big-ass spatula to flip him from time to time so he doesn’t get bedsores.

Hey, I’m surprised it’s November. Aren’t you?

Last night Herself showed me a meme making the rounds on Facebutt, something about 2016 being the kind of year an apocalyptic movie would use to set the scene for how the whole world went to hell.

Sounds about right to me.

But is it really only a preview of coming attractions?

Got 'er done. Go thou and do likewise.

Got ‘er done. Go thou and do likewise.

Take this presidential election (please). It matters who wins, of course. But even if The Hilldebeast prevails over Insane Clown Pussy, unless the Senate and House flip to Donk control, the next four years will make the last eight look like the Golden Age of Athenian democracy.

Hell, I anticipate that the immediate aftermath might embarrass any banana republics that aren’t already embarrassed on our behalf. Whether he loses big or little we should not expect ICP to go gentle into that good night. Imagine a large, oversugared toddler being dragged to bed after learning Santa brought him wool undies instead of a red trike. Better take his phone away first.

His supporters will be equally sanguine about an unhappy outcome, I’m certain. The Secret Service is probably already taking bids on Iron Man suits, Batmobiles and Terminators.

Mind you, this assumes an unhappy outcome for ICP and his merry men, which is not at all a sure thing. Plenty of smart folks gave the old hee, and also the haw, to the notion of Alfred E. “Worry” Bush ever getting into the Oval Office, and look how that turned out, if you can bear to.

We’re in what used to be called “the final stretch.” Alas, it’s only the beginning.

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Posted in Agitprop, Cats, Deep political thought | 16 Comments »

Tanked

October 20, 2016
Going down? Don't you wish. ...

Going down? Don’t you wish. …

Sounds like Insane Clown Pussy achieved his usual level last night.

I’d be delighted to report that his performance in the final presidential “debate” will sink him, but fat turds float, and I expect this one will continue to bob around in the national crapper for the better part of quite some time.

Frankly, it seems unflushable. I’d say sell the house, but who’d want to buy with that thing spoiling every showing? Can we just wall it off with bricks the way Montresor did Fortunato? Pretend it’s not there? Do our business outside if need be?

Shit.

Anyone who was surprised that ICP refused to say he’d take his beating like a man has not been paying attention. He’s not a man. He’s not even a small-d democrat. He’s a two-bit totalitarian. And those dudes don’t go down without a vigorous flushing, and maybe a bit of elbow grease. OK, a lot of elbow grease.

Sadly, rather than get busy with the plunger, however distasteful a chore that may be, some of our fellow Americans insist on splashing around in there with him.

Insane Clown Pussy may be circling the bowl, but his stink will be with us for a while yet. Somebody light a match.

 

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Posted in Assholes, Deep political thought, Feckin' eejits | 18 Comments »

The high-priced spreads

October 16, 2016
Going down. Down, down, down, down, down.

Going down. Down, down, down, down, down.

More cycling, still more!

Yesterday I was riding the Nobilette through the steeps of Richie Rich country in northeastern Albuquerque. The idea is to cleanse the palate, flushing my system of everyone else’s bikes before I do a cannonball back into the deep end of the review pool beginning Monday.

No pix of the houses. Just their trees. I mean, you've seen one 12,000-square-foot house, you've seen 'em all.

No pix of the houses. Just their trees. I mean, you’ve seen one 12,000-square-foot house, you’ve seen ’em all.

The Nobilette has a Sugino triple (46/34/24), an Ultegra rear derailleur, and a nine-speed, 11-28 cassette, so spinning up the hills is a breeze, especially if that breeze is a tailwind. Plus it weighs 23 pounds, at least five pounds less than the typical review model.

I favor my Richie Rich route because it has almost zero traffic and plenty of climbing. Plus you get to see how the other half lives (large). One casita for sale along the way is listed for a million-five. Booyah.

While we’re discussing the lifestyles of the rich and famous, Insane Clown Pussy is still screeching about how the election he hasn’t even lost yet is “rigged.” Check those Florsheim prints on your little weenie, dude. I bet you find an exact match in one of your closets.

 

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Posted in Albuquerque, Bike stuff, Unreal estate | 19 Comments »