Tag: Paul Ryan

Mustn’t-see TV

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 27 Comments
No, no, no, it ain’t me, babe.

Call me a weirdo. …

“You’re a weirdo!”

Very funny.

But whatever you call me, I couldn’t care less about the “Friends” reunion making “Top Stories” queues worldwide; I have absolutely zero interest in what Paul “Lyin'” Ryan has to say about a flim-flam man he doesn’t have the stones to call out by name; and I am definitely not celebrating the first “post-plague” Memorial Day weekend by joining 37 million of my fellow Americans in motoring around the nation with gas prices at a peak not seen since 2014.

Vegas? Orlando? Seriously? You want to get me near Sin City or Disney World at three smacks per gallon, Skeeter, you’re gonna need a bigger sneeze shield. I’m thinking an all-encompassing dome, something a little green fella can use to sight in the old laser cannon, ack ack ack.

I’d watch that shit all day long. But I ain’t watching no “Friends” reunion. Ain’t a laser cannon big enough, not in this galaxy or any other.

Acid test

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments
The back yard is flowering up at light speed.

As I fought my own losing battle with seasonal allergies on Friday it was a pleasant distraction to see Darth Cheeto and Paul “Lyin'” Ryan sound “Retreat” and skedaddle off into the swamp, their shit-stained tails tucked between their legs.

The weather here has abruptly become more seasonable, which is to say less awesome, but Herself and I got out for a 40-minute trail run yesterday. Her pink “Bernie” shirt accessorized nicely with the blooming foliage while my wheezing was just another instrument in the symphony of shortcomings that is the U.S. health-care system (albuterol inhalers just plain cost too fucking much, even without additional tax cuts for the rich).

For a guy whose stash box once made Walgreens look like Baskin-Robbins I have developed a surprising reluctance to take drugs, for anything, even asthma and allergies. Non-Drowsy Claritin-D 12 Hour (pseudoephedrine sulfate) reminds me of decent speed for the first couple of hours, but after that it’s all like, “Dude, where’s my cognitive functions?”

That said, when I saw I was down to my last two tabs I was all like, “Whoa!” and toddled off to the Walgreens for another box.

That shit don’t be cheap, neither. And you can’t just pull it off a shelf. No, you must negotiate with the pharmacist to get it (thanks, meth-heads). But once you show the whitecoats that (a) you have all your teefers; (2) aren’t furiously scratching any open sores; and (III) aren’t twitching like you just got tased by the John Laws, why, all you have to do is fork over the $23.99 for 20 tabs.

Shit, that’s about what I used to pay for acid in the good old days (dealer’s discount). It was loads more fun than Claritin-D, and I don’t recall my nose running, either.

‘This is ridiculous’

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments
The pear tree in the back yard has been enjoying regular medical care and looks great.

Kevin Drum at Mother Jones is an actual wonk, unlike, say, Paul “Lyin'” Ryan, who only plays one on TV.

Kevin also suffers from multiple myeloma, and thus has made an extensive study of the U.S. health-care system, and the hard way, too. Happily, his employer provides excellent health care.

And so when Kevin writes about health care, I pay close attention. And here’s what he has to say about the House GOP’s latest scheme — surgically removing what the Affordable Care Act deemed “Essential Health Benefits” — to make its destruction of the ACA palatable to the Knuckledraggers Caucus.

This means that a health insurer could literally sell you a policy that didn’t cover doctor visits, hospital visits, ER visits, your children’s health care, or prescription drugs—and still be perfectly legal.

No. 1 on his top-three list of problems with Ryan’s little scheme: “Oh come on. This is ridiculous.” I might have used the word “psychotic,” but you know how I am.

Anyway, if you haven’t been in touch with your congresscritter on this issue, best get busy. This dog is likely to limp to the House floor sometime today.

The sky is crying

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments
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.

Game of chance

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 6 Comments
Mystery flats forced a tire change for the Soma Double Cross.
Mystery flats forced a tire change for the Soma Double Cross.

The forecast calls for a chance of rain and/or snow through Monday, and I beat the odds with today’s ride — a light drizzle began just as I hit the driveway.

Maybe it’s a good thing I swapped my tires out before I left. I had been running some portly 700×38 Schwalbe Little Bens on the Soma Double Cross, but the rear keeps going flat for no good reason. I’ve replaced tubes, checked the casing and the rim tape, you name it, and the sonofabitch still goes softer than Paul Ryan’s head when parked in the garage overnight.

Anyway, the DC now wears a frisky pair of 700×32 Panaracer Pasela TourGuards, and we’ll see tomorrow whether the garage gremlins treat the Japanese any better than they do the Germans.

Me, I’m being mistreated by allergies. Faugh. Our recent moisture is bringing all the neighborhood trees to hideous life. Look for pix of The House Back East®’s apricot tree in bloom here in a day or two as I gobble Claritin-D tabs like M&Ms.