Hillary’s new campaign ad is right up my alley, using good old gothic horror movie argle bargle to tease at all the Republicans who are simultaneously not scientists but 110 percent sure there’s no such thing as Global Warming. This is really something I can wrap my head around.
Often enough, I tell myself that I’m too reflexively harsh on my ideological opposites…then I read stories like the lion slaying dentist this and Huckabee’s fucking dog torturing spawn, and I want to cut a bitch. He shot a tame lion that had been lured away from a national park. Why not just go to a zoo and stick a fckng AK-47 between the bars???
They say that it’s all fun and games until somebody loses an eye. Technically, the same applies to broken bones, gashed cheeks, poisoning, and third-degree burns.
I was recently reminded by a childhood friend that as a kid I was always in a state of disrepair; something stitched up, something in a cast. My dad, who had the task of “stitching me up” in my parent’s bedroom (he kept a medical bag of fixing supplies in the closet just for me), nicknamed me “Calamity Jane”. This makes me a little mad. I was accused of being reckless and of constantly putting myself in some kind of physical danger, when everything around me, supplied by my parents, and/or Santa Claus, was a grave source of danger. In the glaringly dangerous examples I discuss in this new series, whining to get a toy I wanted quickly turned into convulsing from its unintended effects. Let’s face it, Mom, Dad, you gave me some pretty brutal toys.
There’s a lot of talk about parents today coddling our children so much that they’re growing up into useless adults — but let’s face it: There’s coddling, and then there’s making sure your kids don’t play with toys that could maim or kill them.
I begged and begged for these, go them for Christmas. This was the single most dangerous toy I ever owned, including the ass-ripping Slip ‘n Slide.
They were desirous because they were candy-apple red and promised anti-gravity jumping, the feeling of walking on the moon. I liked the idea of bouncing around on the moon.
The jumping shoes, apparently around since the 1950s, were a pair of very heavy, thick metal shoes mounted on enormous springs. You wore them over your regular shoes. “Trampolines for the feet” they boasted. What could possibly go wrong? Put ’em on, strap yourself in and take a giant leap for mankind. There was no way to know which direction the rebounding spring would take you. It was impossible to master the shoes for more than a couple bounces before shooting off onto the pavement, into the wall, against the sidewalk or down a flight of steps.
The same people who are bloviating about how a diplomatic solution to Iran’s nuclear weapons program is BAD are the same morons who told the American people that the United States could conquer the Middle East in a matter of weeks by invading Iraq.
And who said that China would never join the war to fight for North Korea.
And that the Cubans were going to rise up and join the invaders.
And that North Vietnam was under supplied and on the verge of collapsing.
And that the people of Iran loved the Shah.
And that we need to eliminate any remotely possible threat of a communist takeover in central America, because the Soviet Union is stronger than ever.
And that the Muslim Jihadists were easily manipulable country-folk who hate the godless Soviets but appreciated the Christian Americans and would be easy to tame if we could get the U.S.S.R. out of the Islamic world.
And that Bush the First didn’t “finish the job”.
And that Clinton is being criminally negligent by cutting military spending in the face of the growing threat of anti-American sentiment in the third world.
And that the only way to “prevent another 9/11″ is overthrowing unfriendly governments in the Muslim world, which shouldn’t take long, because, as we say, Muslims are unsophisticated simpletons (even more so than the Vietnamese were supposed to be), who will be easy to steamroll.
These people say lots of things. And haven’t been right yet.
You may have forgotten about half this list and now you are depressed and for that I am sorry.
“In 18 months I’m turning over the keys. I want to make sure I am turning over the keys to somebody who is serious about the serious problems the country faces and the world faces,” Obama said. “And that requires on both sides, Democrat and Republican, a sense of seriousness and decorum and honesty,” he added.
Obama is just messing with the Republicans, he has no intention of turning the keys over to anyone. #PresidentForLife
Friends, I never bought into the Christian Hell because, really, what needs to be worse than Khmer Rouge Cambodia, Rwanda, Buchenwald or Philadelphia in August? But I would like to see a little room in the Twilight Zone, where smug little pricks like Huckabee and Trump and Santorum have to watch TV news of smart, rational legislators in a Jeffersonian representative democracy, elected by an educated people, all working towards improving a technologically-sophisticated humanistic moral civilization. Forever. That’s exactly the reverse of the parade of nonsense on my TV. Everyday. Forever.
Pastor E. Dewey Smith of the House of Hope, Greater Travelers Rest church in Decatur gave an impassioned sermon, posted to YouTube on Thursday, in which he slammed church leaders for judging gay people but “you change wives like we change underwear.”He went on to criticize the habit of picking and choosing which parts of the Bible to adhere to, based on what is socially advantageous or convenient, but ignore it when it gets in the way of business.
Thanks to my friend Andrew for bringing this hilarity to my attention.
Two veterans tackled an elderly protester aka victim of FOX News elder abuse – who rises like a corpse from the earth during President Obama’s Tuesday speech on veterans’ issues in Pittsburgh. The rightfully angry vets tore the zombie’s sign, which actually read: “The Emperor Benghazi Has No Clothes”, from his hands. Video footage by NBC captured the brief scuffle, which occurred as Obama was addressing the national convention of the Veterans of Foreign Wars.
Then they all joined hands and sang:
There once was a something Benghazi,
That something-or-other Benghazi.
So Obama’s never!
Benghazi, Benghazi, Benghazi!
Body by Gold’s. The Rest is on God.
Now, what is this exactly? Is this millennial irony? The Gold’s Gym shirt flopping over his pasty, noodle arms. The acid-washed jeans and that HAT plus shammy, what?And are those gourds hanging on the wall? Or are they weaponized butt plugs? His back up plan was very confused.
Laws Have Been so eviscerated by the punishment-obsessed rightwing that you would almost need to be hallucinating and eating your own feces to meet the legal test of insanity. At trial, the insanity defense generally hinges on a person’s inability to distinguish right from wrong or understand the “nature and quality” of his act. Being profoundly mentally ill is not enough. You have to be deemed “legally “insane.”
Just how crazy must a person be to be ruled incompetent for execution in the United States?