Tag: RomneyBot 2012

Foreign affairs

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 17 Comments
The path to Fountain, Oct. 20, 2012
No, this is not a pleasant rural road — this is a bike path between Bibleburg and Fountain.

Monday served up one helluva wild ride on the Schadenfreude Express.

It began with Texus Maximus going all minimus, from seven Tour de France victories down to two stage wins and a 36th-overall finish in 1995. And it ended with LL Cool Prez making a punk and a chump out of the RomneyBot v2.012, which came off looking like it would get laughed out of a Know-Nothing primary for a school-board seat in Stumpbroke, Mississippi.

The Cyclist Who Shall Not Be Named (TCWSNBN) was always a poor winner and a worse loser, and it must’ve really stung to be called out from the pulpit by Fat Paddy, that braying, gray-flannel bag of porter farts.

Always one to insist that the UCI’s glossy image remain untarnished, via defamation lawsuit if necessary, the blustering bog-trotter took a respite from casting out the big yellow devil to call Tyler Hamilton and Floyd Landis “scumbags.” Before the word had finished leaving his flapping piehole a thousand lawyers had offered their services to the two whistleblowers, and I will be surprised if the suits weren’t filed before the echoes died.

TCWSNBN will need his own army of shysters going forward, as everybody and his granny wants a refund with interest — Amaury Sports Organization, SCA Promotions, the Sunday Times and pretty much anyone who bought his books, bracelets or bullshit. And there’s that dormant federal inquiry, which could wake up if the U.S. attorney suddenly grows a pair.

In point of fact, there was no shortage of shoe leather being applied to the fallen idol over the course of what must have been a very long day indeed. It was only fair, since he was rarely shy about getting his own Nikes into prostrate rivals when he was on top. There’s no point in putting someone on the deck if you’re not going to give them the boot. It’s American as fraud, coercion, intimidation, bribery and perjury.

Speaking of boots, LL Cool Prez kicked the RomneyBot’s ass so hard that it will be tasting shoe leather until Election Day. I was all for skipping this final debate, but Herself insisted on watching, and I’m glad we did, if only to enjoy the ‘Bot’s stammering and sweating. For a while it looked like its hair was pissing on its head to keep its positronic brain from catching fire.

Whether the drubbing will have any effect remains to be seen. Elsewhere on TV highly paid professionals were playing with their balls and Herself and I may have constituted the entire PBS audience. Still, we enjoyed ourselves. I thought at one point that the prez might just lean back, park his dogs on the desk, lace his fingers behind his head, and let the ‘Bot keep digging its own political grave. “Keep it up, never mind me, you’re doing just fine.”

Today it’s back to business as usual. Apple is unleashing a few more must-have toys for anyone who still has a job, the Tour is preparing to announce the route of its centenary event, and I plan to get in one more long ride before the weather goes south.

Shocktober!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 2 Comments

How the hell did it get to be October already? Herself and I were just enjoying some adult beverages on the back deck, watching the critters gambol on the lawn, and had to beat it indoors before the sun had truly set because we were freezing our whatsises off (of course, anyone wearing shorts and sandals on Oct. 1 deserves to freeze his or her whatsis off).

We had to fortify ourselves with largish glasses of Domaine Vindemio, a powerful red from Ventoux. Then I put the last of the green chile stew on the range. The low tonight could dip into the 30s and for that one needs green chile and red wine.

Come Wednesday, of course, we will need distilled sustenance — tequila, single-malt Scotch or a solid hit of uisce beatha from the auld sod. El Prezbo and the RomneyBot v2.012 square off that evening for their first debate, in Denver, and there is no way I can possibly watch that sucker stone cold sober. (See Charles P. Pierce for a guide on how to watch a presidential debate.)

The RomneyBot is in full kernel panic, crashing and rebooting and giving off a strong whiff of ozone, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all to see him in mid-flail offer Obama a couple of billion to move out of the White House and set himself and the family up in style elsewhere.

iBike 2012: Bibleburg to Flagstaff

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 18 Comments
One of my favorite spots in Santa Fe. Or anywhere else, come to think of it.
One of my favorite spots in Santa Fe. Or anywhere else, come to think of it.

FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. (MDM) — There’s nothing quite like listening to Bach’s “Art of the Fugue” while motoring through the New Mexican desert, flipping the bird to Mitt Romney billboards.

I made the usual stops en route — Ten Thousand Waves, which as usual was awesome; and Second Street Brewery, which oddly was not (I guess everyone has a bad day coming, and theirs was Sunday night).

As I barreled westward the CD player spared me the news that the RomneyBot v2.012 had managed to waffle-stomp its electronic pecker again. I didn’t catch up on that action until I came within range of KNAU just outside Flagstaff, and may I say that it’s always pleasant to have one’s worst suspicions confirmed?

The guy called slightly less than half the country a shiftless bunch of jigaboos, beaners and white-trash layabouts who while away the hours sleeping off a drunk in their Cadillacs until it’s time to cruise down to the welfare office and harvest a bale of feddle-gummint money before getting their gold tooth polished at the Mayo Clinic.

The janitors at the Republican National Committee must have had a hell of a time sweeping up all the hair on the floor after that pail of mierda hit the abanico. But I bet they were whistling while they worked.