Saturday, October 21, 2017

Even a Stopped Clock

While the ideological fanatics in this hopelessly incompetent excuse for an administration are too stupid and single-minded in their Islamophobia, the fact is that when it comes to the World Health Organization, we are talking about an agency that just appointed Comrade Bob, the ne plus ultra of doddering oafish tyrants, as a "goodwill ambassador." I assume this is only because their first selection, Moammar el-Gadafi, is, you know, dead.

[Update 10/22/17 4:00 PM:  Mugabe's invitation has been rescinded. So fucking what -- the fact that he was even on the list, as a failed dictator of a failed state with a health-care system that might be the envy of the Congo or Somalia, but not much else, tells you everything you need to know about the decision-making of organizations such as the WHO. This is why people hate the UN -- they seriously think that by embracing thugs and thieves, by putting the Saudis on their human rights commission and other such nonsense, that they can change their behavior. Obviously no nations are perfect, but good grief.]

Weekend Warriors

So which congressional loser's turn is it to spend the weekend letting Emperor Depends win at golf? It's a beautiful fall day, perfect for spending it driving the golf cart on the fairways, and watching a doddering, incompetent, incontinent old man waddle around and cheat at a meaningless game. Fun!

Friday, October 20, 2017

Dishonorable Discharge

This past week should prove to be fateful, as in foreboding impending doom for this shitshow of an administration, but because the universe hates us and nothing matters anymore, we'll just have to see. But consider this recap of how things unfolded:
  1. A twelve-member Special Forces team on a Foreign Internal Defense (FID) operation near the Niger-Mali border was ambushed by about 50 Islamic terrorist types. Four Green Berets were killed. That happened on October 4th. The fourth Green Beret, LaDavid Johnson, was found 48 hours later.
  2. By October 16th, nothing had been said by the administration about the mission or the fallen soldiers. Clownstick held a Rose Garden press conference to spread some manure, and got asked about that lack of communication.
  3. Instead of some anodyne bullshit about how we're looking into things and our thoughts and prayers are with our heroes and all that, Clownstick immediately went into default what-about-Obama mode, hastily concocting a hilarious -- and easily fact-checked -- lie about how Obama and other predecessors didn't call or write.
  4. Tuesday, because these people are all a bunch of unprofessional retards, they went into panic mode and Clownstick calls Johnson's widow when she's on her way to see her husband's coffin, tries to pull that tough-guy "he knew what he signed up for" bullshit that veterans tell each other, but leaders should never say to a grieving widow in a condolence call. Then Clownstick compounds the fuck-up by lying about it, saying he has "proof" he didn't say that.
  5. By Wednesday, Clownstick and his trusty mutt John Kelly are trashing Representative Frederica Wilson, who also happens to be a lifelong friend of the Johnson family. Clownstick even has the balls to use Kelly's son Robert, who was killed in action in Afghanistan, as rhetorical cover in the escalating argument.
  6. Thursday, Kelly one-ups his boss and uses his own son in the same fashion, in a bizarre tirade that included reminiscing Archie Bunker-style about the good ol' days when people -- especially uppity black women -- knew their place and respected their betters. Kelly also flat-out fabricated Rep. Wilson's role in dedicating a law enforcement center in Florida, but hey, facts schmacts, amirite? Incidentally, Kelly also inadvertently revealed that Clownstick actually did say what Rep. Wilson and LaDavid Johnson's widow said that he had said in the first place, just that Clownstick's tone was misunderstood or something. Pro tip:  There is no "right tone" for what was said in that context to a grieving widow of a fallen soldier.
  7. To her credit, Rep. Wilson immediately aired her own grievances and explained exactly how Kelly was LYING about her. When that was brought up at the White House press briefing today, cankered soul Sarah Huckabee Sanders warned against challenging Kelly on his lies. Because for these assholes, as always, "free speech" means the freedom to swallow their FUCKING LIES.
  8. Turns out that Dickhead's blow-up daughter-in-law, who runs his internet swag 'n' propaganda arm, read an actual transcript of the announcement and calls that were supposed to have taken place well before the Rose Garden press conference on the 16th, but for whatever reason had not occurred. Only the best people, folks.
Maybe the biggest thing to take away from this unfortunate sequence of events is that the whole thing was completely unforced and unnecessary. There is something wrong -- completely off and wrong -- with this fucking clown. No matter how large or small the stakes, he cannot simply take a hint and allow for corrective action. He has to escalate needlessly.

Since he's always had that reverse Midas touch, the ineffable ability to fuck up things that should be slam dunks, everything and everyone he contacts with his leper touch gets the disease. It's funny how someone whose fans love that "he says what he means" keeps having to send out subordinates to explain what he said and what he meant.

It's General Kelly's turn to be exposed as a cynical, polluted soul. Whatever else he's done in his 67 years on this planet, selling out his son's tragic death for a worthless boss is what he'll be remembered for most.

Not that Kelly was a "good guy" anyway. Consider how much the bar has been lowered in just nine months, that since Kelly took over as White House Chief of Staff, people have been lauding the supposed "efficiency" and "seriousness" of the military junta running the joint, as if Kelly, Mattis, and McMaster didn't attain their ranks by being consummate company men.

The other thing people are sporting some wood for is the stray dissenting voices in the gloom -- Fredo Arbusto, Poor Ol' Straight Talk, and now Chocolate Hussein Thunder, the latter of whom we dearly miss. These men have all, in the past few days, given speeches expressing clear disdain for the way things are going. But none of them name any names.

Every horror-fantasy reader knows the trope of using the demon's name:  it is both dangerous and necessary. Saying the name aloud summons the demon, but using with power and conviction is also necessary to banish it back to the pits of hell.

Fredo Arbusto is stumping for Ed Gillespie, a lifelong Gooper machine hack who's running a Willie Horton campaign in the Virginia governor race. Gillespie is about as close to being a human shit-stain as possible, without having the last name of Von Clownstick. And Straight Talk was more than happy to vote for the budget, and has a history of going along after squawking for the cameras. He is sounding more and more like a man who truly has nothing to lose, and hopefully continues along that path.

But the point is that you either call out the asshole, or you don't. Everybody complains about the weather, but nobody does anything about it. In the continuous trashing of intangibles like "norms" and "decorum" and "institutions," the danger is that the office itself is going to be severely undermined. Executive power has steadily over-reached since the Cheney reign of error, but it is increasingly likely that Clownstick will eventually do something catastrophic, and the power of future executives will be rolled back too far.

And let's face it -- a brazen oaf like Fuckface Von Clownstick doesn't happen without Fredo and Straight Talk paving the way. They don't get a pass just because they don't like the cut of his job. He's simply saying aloud the things they used to tell each other more quietly. Arbusto is still a fucking idiot, and Straight Talk lowered even that bar with his veep pick. So a couple of speeches where they don't have the guts to summon the demon by name is barely a start in making up what they've done to this country. Let's not forget that.

The ironic capper on all of this is that the Niger ambush may very well end up being Clownstick's Benghazi. There wasn't nearly enough air cover for the FID mission, and in fact a no-bid contractor only had one fixed-wing and one rotary-wing aircraft in the area, neither of which were armed. After the aircraft came in and grabbed the squad, including three of the dead, they inadvertently left LaDavid Johnson behind. Johnson's beacon went on, meaning that he was still alive. His casket had to remain closed, meaning that he was probably mutilated, dead or alive.

So a private contractor fucked the dog on this thing, and left a Green Beret behind to be brutally murdered by Islamic terrorists. It's a giant fiasco from snout to tail, and we're just starting to hear the details.

Again, this all could have easily avoided with a few simple phrases:  We're looking into that, and will announce when more information about the tragic incident becomes available. Our nation deeply appreciates your husband's service and sacrifice. We apologize if our sincere condolences were taken in a way we didn't intend, and we hope the family finds peace during this tragic moment.

It's not that fucking difficult, if you're a human being. It should be abundantly clear by now that that was always too much to ask of these vile people. Every goddamned one of them needs to be living in a van down by the river, and selling oranges at the freeway off-ramp, when we are finally deloused.

Also, too.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

The Check Is In the Mail

So let's see if we have this straight -- back in June, Emperor Snowflake promised a check for $25,000 from his personal bank account to the parents of a soldier killed in Afghanistan. The check never arrived (of course) until now, four months later, or at least the emperor's spokes-weasel is saying it's "been sent."

None of this could possibly have anything to do with the emperor -- whose clothes, it must be noted, are from the finest and rarest silks, believe me -- finding a way to shit on one of our last sacred cows, fallen soldiers, not once but three times in the space of twenty-four hours, dragging the son of his own chief of staff into the mess. You might think Snowflake is concerned about how this will go over.

You would be thinking wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. He has nothing to worry about from his base-tards, and he (and they) know it. Because it's all an act with them, this feigned hero-worship for military personnel. They don't give a fuck about the troops, except the ones they're related to (which for Snowflake is fucking nobody; Snowflakes only carry weapons to kill endangered species, joining the Army is for teh poorz who don't have dads to grease the palms of admissions directors).

They do not care about this country, nor its military service personnel. They care about symbols and totems, the visual components of authoritarian virtue signaling and political correctness. But the principles that those symbols represent, and the people who fight and die for them? Fuck no. Snowflake and his diehards care far more about giant flags and empty gestures than they do about anything that has meaning or depth or intention.

They claim to love them some Jesus, but nothing that he actually said or did in the New Testament. And it's the same with the United States of America -- it's much more important to them to wave a traitor slaver flag and rant about professional athletes, than to think about what "free speech" really means, and why it's a special, rare right to have in this world.

He knew what he was signing up for, but I guess it hurts anyway. Every recruit who signs on the line which is dotted, to join their nation's armed forces, certainly understands the inherent risks. Special Forces personnel understand this perhaps more than anyone. But only a soulless creep completely bereft of basic human empathy would say such a thing to the grieving wife -- a young widow with two young children and a third on the way -- of a soldier ambushed and killed in a secret combat mission.

It is a thing said by someone who has never known real sacrifice or commitment or a loss that hurts and never quite goes away, someone who has no concept of putting others before themselves. It is a thing said by someone who thinks they can pretend to purchase the grief of a family, as if it were a comically large painting of oneself purchased with the donated funds of one's own fraudulent charity. It is a thing said by a spoiled child who needed to have his ass kicked good and hard before being inflicted on an unsuspecting world.

But if a four-star Marine general is okey-doke with this spoiled, brainless clown using the general's dead son as a cynical poker chip in the clown's endless dick-measuring contest with the previous occupant, then that should be a clue as to how the brain-dead rubes who are still on board with this shit will react. They don't care. They don't care about what their hero says about dead soldiers and grieving families. They didn't care when he mocked a tortured war hero, they didn't care when he trash-talked a Gold Star family, and they don't fucking care now.

The ongoing cold civil war is ratcheting up, bit by bit, and this is a big one that everyone should pay attention to. This is an issue not of optics or precise political verbiage, but of basic decency and competence. Only a complete dipshit could find a way to fuck up a condolence call several different ways, and only an indecent person could continue to support this nonsense.

It is events like this that help clarify who the real deplorables are, and how it would be a waste of time and resources to try to court their votes. They're just in it to troll libtards at this point, and I hope each and every one of them gets saddled with an expensive, useless health plan, and their kids get sent to Iran or North Korea to make a fat, impotent, spray-tanned buffoon look tough to his hangers-on. I don't want to win them back. They can kindly go fuck themselves already.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

The Czech Is In the Male

The first Mrs. Fuckface Von Clownstick, who in the thirty-some years since the end of their marriage has plied her trade as a....well, let's say a spender of her ex-husband's alimony payments and a waster of good oxygen, has plastered her name on a book, or perhaps a "book."

At least the poor Atlantic reviewer got paid to wade through what sounds like a catty, self-serving mess, but you have to wonder what sort of damaged psyche shells out good money and time to do such a thing. Are they thinking there will be some sort of revelation about Herr Clownstick? Come on, that would constitute a violation of the NDA she signed at the divorce to get her lifetime stipend.

A common theme when it comes to public couples comprised of awful men and their trophy wives is to make some piteous assumption about what the wife has to put up with. The most popular current iteration of this is the Saturday Night Live skit portraying the current Mrs. Von Clownstick as some poor trapped bird in a gilded cage.

To put it mildly, such assumptions are beyond stupid. It's one thing if couples get married young and/or impetuously, before having enough time to get to know each other, and one of them turns out to be an asshole. It happens, and it's not always easy to extricate oneself from such a relationship.

But even by his first marriage he had already been sued for housing discrimination against minorities. All of his wives had ample warning that he's a terrible person. The simplest and most likely explanation is that the women are also terrible; they may not engage in the exact same types of behavior, but there is at least an implicit admission on their part that his money helps offset his awfulness.

Well, sorry, but that also implicates you, dearie. It takes a terrible person to stay with a terrible person and publicly enable their nasty behavior. That there is a financial calculation baked into all that does not absolve you from moral complicity. When that person literally is in a position to ruin the entire world, and constantly acts temperamentally disposed to do exactly that, the complicity is all the more concrete.

Countess Von Clownstick's main skills appear to be an ability to find rich available men, a desire to instill a sociopathic level of competitive behavior in her children (especially for completely useless activities such as Easter egg hunts and lemonade stands), and a bottomless well of unearned self-regard. She could be the honorary queen mother of the endlessly leg-humping Kardashian klan, especially in terms of adding utterly zero value to the world or what's left of a culture.

Monday, October 16, 2017

Maybe It's Just a Coincidence

If you haven't read Jane Mayer's excellent piece in the New Yorker on Mike Pence, get on it post-haste. Lots of good stuff in there, especially Jared Kushner's machinations to get rid of Chris Christie in favor of Pence, and let traitor Michael Flynn in the door after Christie had already warned about him.

But what's perhaps more interesting is the little tidbits of info Mayer includes about Mike Pence's older brother Gregory. He runs an antique store, he cites The Wizard of Oz as a metaphor for his mother's change in political views, and he uses the descriptive "fabulous" at one point.

I think you get the picture. I wonder if his fanatic brother has tried to "cure" him.

Season's Beatings

I'm gonna go ahead and get out in front of the inevitable moron war on Christmas bullshit right now, considering Snowflake decreed that we would all be saying "Merry Christmas" from now on, since the Kenyan Moooslin had forbade us under penalty of death to do so during the long cold winter of his two terms.

During the holiday season, I typically do say "Merry Christmas," but not this year, and maybe not again for quite some time. You don't tell me what to fucking say or not say, old man. Period.

Like the cynical use of the troops to push against basic First Amendment rights to openly dissent, to be a rebel or even an asshole, those lying closet-case valyews voters can kiss my entire ass, and then go eat shit and die in a fire. They are not christian in any real, honest sense of that word -- they hate poor people, want more guns, and have aligned themselves with a lifelong thief and liar, someone who bears false witness routinely, who violates at least three or four of their so-called commandments before his second brunch.

So they can take their Merry Christmas and fuck themselves in the goddamned neck with it -- I'll say it when I fucking well feel like it, and there's not a thing they or he or anyone can do about it.

Thank You for Your Service

Nearly two weeks ago, four Green Berets were ambushed and killed in action on a mission in the Saharan country of Niger. During that period of time, HRH Emperor Snowflake has visited his golf resort five times, and took Rand Paul out for a "make sure you let him win and tell the media what a great golfer he is" round (last week it was Huckleberry Closetcase's turn with Dear Leader). But he has neither called nor written the families of the fallen soldiers, nor publicly addressed their sacrifice. (Don't know or care if he tweeted about it; that doesn't count as formal communication from the office of the country's chief executive.)

So when he was called on it at today's hostage video with Mitch the Bitch, Snowflake started dancing like a kid with a late book report, first saying that he'd written letters over the weekend and that they'd be going out today, then falling back on the tried-and-untrue tactic of Making Shit Up About The Blah Guy. "Someone told him" that Obama didn't call or write, or maybe they didn't. It so hard to be sure when you're making it up as you go along, just pulling it out of your ass and not even bothering to brush the peanuts and corn off.

This is at least the third time this fucking guy has said something completely disrespectful to military personnel specifically. The first time was when he mocked John McCain, the second time when he trash-talked the family of fallen combat veteran Humayun Khan. There are no doubt other incidents, of varying degree of seriousness, that I'm forgetting for the moment. (Honorable mention:  "I know more than the generals about ISIS," when he clearly knows jack shit about anything, and it's disrespectful to their position, as well as the work they've put in to fighting that enemy.)

But of course as far as Snowflake and his retard fan-base are concerned, the real disrespect for the troops and the country comes from professional athletes silently taking a knee in principled dissent during the national anthem. That should tell you everything you need to know about him and them -- that their flag-humping and troop-pimping is as cynical as you can imagine. The military is nothing more than a prop to him, and like good little cult monkeys, his base lives and breathes in rhythm with him. We have always been at war with Eurasia.

On the one hand, this lying criminal monster is exactly the chief executive that a fat, illiterate empire deserves when it's fallen and can't get up. On the other hand, we need more voices like Gregg Popovich to speak up and tell him to fuck off already. Few things are more shameful than cynically hiding behind and lying about military personnel, particularly when they've given their lives for this country, for a senile moron who's never done a goddamned thing in his life for anyone else.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Tyrannosaurus Sex

The tale of notorious douchebag Harvey Weinstein is a sordid but all-too-familiar one. Weinstein has been infamous for decades for his volatile temper, screaming at and physically threatening anyone who dares to publish anything he's not happy with. It's sort of ironic that what brings him down is his disgusting behavior with women.

I mean, seriously. You're one of the most successful movie producers in Hollywood -- you should have women throwing themselves at you, successful women and starlet wannabes. There should never be an instance where you have to coerce or use leverage to get sex, and frankly, a few of Weinstein's deeds sound like flat-out rape.

Maybe if Weinstein had played his cards right, he could have been elected to high office. I keed, I keed. But really, what is the qualitative difference between Weinstein and Clownstick, or Bill O'Reilly, Bill Cosby, Roger Ailes? The last two would be the worst of that particular group, but the salient fact is that none of them will ever face any real repercussions for their behavior. The careers of Weinstein and Cosby are over now, and Weinstein is now facing what will likely be an expensive divorce, but that's about it.

But you can bet the story gives the Clownstick administration a serious orange old-man chub. For one, it serves as a distraction from the daily failures. Puerto Rico seems to have dropped off the mediot radar. Much easier for the chat shows to just sit and talk to each other about how awful Weinstein is (which, don't get me wrong, is 100% true, but it's been true for a very long time) than to send reporters to PR and get a look for themselves, talk to some residents, write an actual news story.

This lets one side, who elected a dirty old man who has bragged multiple times about accosting women and barging into dressing rooms, play some weird "hypocrisy" card, as if it wasn't the failing New York Times that broke the Weinstein story. And it lets the other side virtue-signal that they're willing to excoriate one of "their own" for such behavior, as if the example would resonate one millimeter beyond their own ideological borders.

Conservatives only care about sexual misbehavior when it's Harvey Weinstein or Anthony Weiner. When it's one of their own, they vacillate between didn't happen and fuck you. Liberals are consistent about punishing their own transgressors, but then seem surprised to find that it doesn't really change anything. This isn't about sex, it's about power, more specifically about powerful people using and abusing powerless people, which is a constant of the human condition.

Pretty sure it was in a Playboy 20 Questions interview in the early '90s, where Joe Pesci said, "Show business turns men into fags and women into whores." However that phrasing may put some people off, he's not wrong. One of the sicknesses of our culture is how badly some people allow themselves to be conditioned to seeking fame for its own sake. The promise of fame -- or even just being in close proximity to it -- gets some people to do things they ordinarily wouldn't.

Even a heaving fat sweaty tub of shit like Harvey Weinstein could get laid. This wasn't about getting laid. This was about a tubby schlemiel who never got a decent piece of ass until he was a wealthy Hollywood weasel trying to seduce Ashley Judd or Asia Argento or someone people had actually heard of. I produced her goddamned movie and got her an Oscar, the least Gwyneth Paltrow can do is give me a fucking handjob! That sort of thing.

And like Pesci, Weinstein wouldn't be entirely wrong in that assumption. It's one of the oldest what would you do for.... questions around. If giving a fat guy a handjob would make you a rich movie star and get you an Academy Award, would you do it? Probably most average people would say no, but a much higher percentage of people in the entertainment industry would say break out that dick. And that's the world guys like Weinstein and the rest of them live in.

Don't get me wrong; I find Gwyneth Paltrow to be insufferable, but I do not think she gave Harvey Weinstein a handjob, although I really don't care if she did. It's just an example to illustrate where the brains of people who function at Weinstein's level can easily be, if they have that kind of personality and temperament.

Despite the usual "casting couch" clichés that abound, I suspect that is the exception these days, rather than the rule it probably was back in the day. These are corporations with HR departments and risk-management protocols, and that sort of shit is bad for business. But if you put a dysfunctional person in that sort of position, of course he's going to exploit the opportunity and go after all the ass he can get. Dysfunction+Power=Bad Shit Happening. Who knew?

But again, the fact that a good chunk of the 'murkin media have gone off after this particular squirrel, while 3 million Americans continue to suffer without food or electricity or gasoline, and the turd stinking up the Oval Office continues to rage-tweet the voices in his head, speaks volumes.

Sunday, October 08, 2017

Put a Cork In It

It's nice that Bob Corker has put His Travesty on notice that he's not taking any of his shit, but Corker was one of the "serious" Republicans that gave his approval to candidate Clownstick, and as such, is part owner of this shithead, no matter how much he tries to disown him now. When Corker actually does something concrete, then he can come out of his "go fuck yourself" corner.

They all try to hide behind the notion that they "reasonably" assumed that the gravitas of the job and the Oval Office and all that was going to transform Shit-for-Brains into a serious man. Someone needs to tell them that such a thing was never a reasonable assumption. Everyone except cheap hucksters and soulless political opportunists saw this coming.

Clownstick is who he has always been, and who he always will be. There is no other side. What you see has always been what you've gotten, and to his credit, he's never pretended otherwise. All along, media monkeys and common taters and other such unaccountable dipshits just assumed it was all bluster, hyperbole, showmanship, whatever. It's like it never occurred to any of them that maybe he's really just an asshole.

Now they know. Well, fuck them, and fuck Bob Corker. They all own whatever this monster has already done, and what he'll do in the days and weeks to come. War with Iran and/or North Korea, the corrosion of previously boilerplate free-speech rights; the incitement of rage, anger, hateful nonsense; the active pitting of Americans against each other in order to deflect from the constant, rolling incompetence.

Political realists from both major parties, people who would classify as more or less "true" conservatives and liberals in the heretofore conventional sense, saw all this happening, and correctly sussed Mister Man's temperament well before he suddenly became viable. The only surprise since then is that he's somehow managed to turn out to be dumber, crueler, more childish -- and very possibly demented and/or mentally ill -- than most people would have guessed.

But the people who chose to ignore what was right in front of them, what he was directly telling them over and over, thinking they could ride his coattails or diaper band or whatever bulges his fat ass out the way it does, they own it. All of it. It's up to them whether they want to step up now and do something to salvage what's left of their reputations. It's tough to imagine what's stopping them; it's not like he can turn them into a jack-in-the-box or send them into a cornfield. The money people who own him right now will find someone else to rent after he's gone, whether now or later. But they might want to get on the right side of this while there's still time.

Friday, October 06, 2017

Tea for the Tillerson

Everyone's aflutter about how Secretary of Oil State Tex Drillerson accurately described the emperor as a fucking moron. But as this extensive profile shows, while Drillerson himself isn't a moron, he's not exactly a genius either. Consider this episode from just a few weeks ago, at the JCPOA (Iran nuclear deal) meeting of the signatory nations:
Tillerson took the microphone and began again, his voice unwavering. The real problem, he said, was that Iran had been attacking Americans since 1979, when Iranian students seized the U.S. Embassy in Tehran and held fifty-two diplomats for more than a year. “The modern-day U.S.-Iran relationship is now almost forty years old,” he went on, still looking at Zarif. “It was born out of a revolution, with our Embassy under siege—and we were very badly treated.” He enumerated Iranian-sponsored attacks in Lebanon in the nineteen-eighties and in Iraq more recently, which together killed hundreds of American citizens. “The relationship has been defined by violence—against us,” he said.

Tillerson wondered aloud whether the entire effort to improve relations with Iran wasn’t doomed by history. “We have more pounds, and our hair is gray,” he said. “Maybe we don’t have it in our capacity to change the nature of this relationship, because we are bound by it—maybe we leave it to the next generation to try.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I’m not a diplomat.”

As Lavrov, muttering loudly in Russian, stood and led his assistants out of the room, the meeting broke up, with the officials talking in hushed tones about what had happened. For proponents of the nuclear deal, it was an unacceptably risky bit of brinkmanship. For the [Snowflake] Administration, it was an ideal expression of a bellicose new foreign policy, based on the campaign promise of America First. An aide to Tillerson later told me, “It was one of the finest moments in American diplomacy in the last fifty years.”
[emphasis mine]

Consider that for a second:  the top American diplomat conducts a sensitive negotiation that directly affects the national security strategy by asserting that he is not a diplomat.

Even if you give Drillerson some benefit of the doubt and assume that the comment was his way of framing the supposed intractability of the US-Iran impasse, this is an amazingly stupid and unproductive strategy, assuming your goal is to avoid a completely unnecessary war. Maybe we shouldn't assume that.

The larger strategic implications are even more counterproductive. We've clearly signaled the Iranians that there is no upside to making any concessions to enter into a non-proliferation treaty with us, since we've done everything possible to undermine it. The signal is equally clear to North Koreans that they shouldn't even bother to negotiate with us, since our word is no good.

Perhaps most dangerous of all is the signal being sent to our most important allies and friends (and, you know, Russia). This is yet another instance in which they have to decide whether to go on without us, since we have shown the world that no one else matters, and that we are more than willing to shoot ourselves in the foot if it gives us an excuse to tell everyone else to go fuck themselves.

This is poker of the highest stakes, being played by middling checkers players who don't really care about the outcome. It's a dangerous game, and we're all going to get burned. But hey, Big Daddy Cheeto gets to pretend to be a tough guy again, right? The scariest part is imagining who this toxic dipshit will select to replace Drillerson in the coming days when he decides he's had enough.

Uncle Sam's Cabin

Via Charles Pierce, here's a little tale that oughta make your blood boil. The entire article is excerpt-worthy; suffice to say that there's a modernized version of the old southern work farms going on here, except this one is a food-industry-created temp agency where the "employees" don't get paid at all.

Should anyone be surprised that this particular slave-diversion outlet pretends to be a christian rehab, even though most of the "participants" have committed no drug-related crimes? No more than one would be surprised that the vile cow overseeing this scam is well-paid, runs some of the slaves to work her daughter's egg farm, etc.

Most exposés of the ever-expanding, ever-more-privatized carceral state focus (with good reason) on the disproportionate ratio of minority inmates exploited and abused under the system. But it's really a socioeconomic issue -- the slave drivers are just as happy to exploit poor whites as they are any other poor person. The race of the exploited person doesn't matter nearly as much as the captivity of the victim, the complete inability to fight back or resist against the evil perpetrated on them.

Considering the article mentions plenty of popular food brands that buy product from these slave farms, it would be nice to think some sort of economic pressure could be pushed onto these companies. In the real world, however, this is an unfortunate fart in a now endless hurricane. Beef is relatively easy to buy locally sourced, chicken much less so. But maybe if enough people hear about this atrocity, these monsters can be shut down and shunned.

In the meantime, this serves as an apt metaphor for the way our wonderful world really is:  you're either profiting from the racket, or being victimized by it. That's their ultimate goal.

The Devil In Miss Jones

If our ongoing cold civil war ever goes hot, be sure to send Alex Jones a thank you card. Not that it will matter, since he'll have gotten his fondest wish.

Thursday, October 05, 2017

No Bubble! No Bubble! You're the Bubble!

I've enjoyed (most of) Michael Moore's schtick and work for decades, starting with Roger and Me, and undeniably powerful evisceration of corporate greed and lies. But his inane critiques at supposed "bubble" liberals have taken on the catechistic sheen of a mindless dogma, untroubled by critical thought or intellectual honesty.

There's no second-guessing Moore's unfortunate accuracy as a political prognosticator; he predicted Clownstick winning six months before it happened, when catfished pollsters and punch-drunk journamalists were veering between snickering at the folly and regaling the slow-motion collapse of his futile campaign. So much for the smart set, right?

But Moore has said his share of stupid, unhelpful shit as well. In Moore's view, liberals are in the bubble, as are New York and Hollywood. It's never the hallowed opioid havens of his sacred rust belt ghost towns that might need to listen to other people once in a while, or maybe get at least some of their "facts" from somewhere other than Fixed Noise and reality teevee.

No, it's always, always Moore's supposed ideological compadres that need to listen to....well, to be honest, I have no idea what precisely we're supposed to be hearing. Because countless journos have spelunked up 'murka's gaping asshole, vainly trying to get the perfect post-mortem from Real 'murkins. I've read far too many of them, and most of them make no sense at all (I just trust him), or rely on things we know to be flat-out lies (he's a great businessman with a history of turning things around).

Just as stupid is Moore's vapid assertion that liberals should watch Celebrity Apprentice and American Idol and The Bachelorette (as if, you know, none of them ever do). Leaving aside the momentary surprise that he left out Duck Dynasty and the various Real Housewives franchises, again I would ask Moore if he's ever suggested to "them" that they watch something that "we" supposedly all watch. I've never seen any of those shows, and I never will, though I am aware of them thanks to endless commercials and The Soup. Life's too short to actually sit through that mess.

If other people want to rot their brains on that shit, more power to them. But it adds nothing to the discussion, although it does explain the bizarre epistemology in play with that generalized demographic. They probably throw money they don't have at millionaire megachurches and televangelists, and trust the astrology section of their newspapers. Should we faithless heathens entreaty those ethereal demons as well?

Think about it, in the context of the five aforementioned shows, and how what those shows really entail dovetails with the electoral reasoning Moore implores us smug smarties to plug into, for some insane reason. Let's take those shows (are they still even on?) one at a time:
  • Celebrity Apprentice:  Slightly well-known people, fallen on hard times, compete to start a fake business that they will never run, and are judged by a fake billionaire who pretends to fire them, one by one. Proceeds go to the Human Fund!
  • American Idol:  Do they still do that thing in the first few weeks where they humiliate really untalented wannabes on-camera? Boy, that whole William Hung thing was just awesome, wasn't it? Good times. Aside from Carrie Underwood, have any of the finalists or winners really "made it", whatever "it" is these days?
  • The Bachelorette:  I think I made the analogy at some point during the campaign that maintaining the belief that Clownstick is a good or even competent businessman is roughly equal to believing that the "winners" in these stupid hookup shows actually get married or even engaged. If I want to watch people fuck in a hot tub, I'll just go to XHamster or something. But Moore's ZOMG! She chose Thorn instead of Brick! fangirl gushing as a serious example of the sort of Real 'murkin decision-makin' that smug bubble-libruls must embrace is just embarrassing to read. Seriously, dude, take some testosterone supplements and eat a steak, before you find yourself on the same menstrual cycle as these suckers.
  • Duck Dynasty:  Fake hillbillies who spout real jingoism. Their main selling point seems to be that they actually like each other and pray before dinner. [mimes jerkoff motion] Oh, and the patriarch has a side hustle going around to mega-churches and political campaigns spouting off about how fags are like dog-fuckers. He was at the Roy Moore rally the other night, so there's that.
  • Real Housewives:  A bunch of botoxed, fake-tit cunts trying to out-cunt each other. Bitch I'll pull yo weave!
I've said it since the first season of Survivor, and my opinion has not changed one iota:  reality teevee is the most noxious, toxic spew to permeate the boob tube. It's ruined this country to an incalculable degree. It's certainly made some people visibly dumber, less lucid, less cognizant of the real world around them. It's (literally) mindless escapism, and nothing more. Your brain would be less polluted by watching keyboard-cat and log-fireplace videos all day.

What reality teevee does -- and again, though I really have never directly watched any of it, I've read reviews and critiques here and there over the years, been inundated with commercials and promos and news items about the various "winners" and "contestants", and hate-watched The Soup during the Joel McHale years, so I have a pretty good idea -- is culturally unhealthy and corrosive in the aggregate. It wallows primarily in these main traits:
  • Cutthroat behavior and backstabbing.
  • Public humiliation.
  • Toxic behavior.
Perhaps the most pernicious aspect is the rather obvious issue that it's not any more real than professional wrestling. Everything is in fact scripted and scrupulously edited toward a pre-planned outcome. The whole thing is meticulously staged, if at times to conform to flash polls and the like. Many of the reality teevee fans I know personally seem to watch at least several of them, all the time. The "seasons" are scheduled so as to be constant; there is no "off-season" anymore for this sort of hastily-crafted discount programming.

Imagine letting this crap through your eyes and ears to steadily erode your cerebellum for going on two decades now. What do you think that does to your perception of "reality"? Throw in the more recent epistemological conveniences of social media, and you have a sizable contingent of addled people who are being poked with a culture-war stick. They can pick which "facts" and "reality" suit them best, and since they have eroded their capacity to discern or care what is empirically "true," they simply act on pure id and volition.

In fact, this is an ideal situation for them. As mentioned in a recent post, this is also a contingent that routinely fetishizes the symbols and ceremonies of "democracy" as they perceive it, but they are actively hostile toward the actual principles of democracy, especially free speech that they disagree with, especially when it comes from uppity black folks.

So it's dismaying to see Moore throw in with the tedious rube-whisperer lectures of the likes of Mudcat Saunders and Chris Arnade and such. It's a sucker's bet; either you take seriously the reasons and principles why you believe in and agree with conventionally "liberal" ideals, and you try to find ways to bring other reasonable people into the fold, or you don't.

Someone who addles their brain with reality teevee, watched Fixed Noise for their "information," and hasn't read a book in years, is not a serious person. At all. That doesn't mean you write them off completely, but it does mean you don't waste the effort of crafting a significant part of your party strategy around catering to their dipshit notions.

In 2008, Barack Obama won by the largest margin -- by far -- since Reagan in 1984. The Democrats took a supermajority in the Senate, and a considerable majority in the House. Did you see any "important" or "influential" conservative "thinkers" imploring the rubes to maybe take a look across the aisle and see why Obama won? Did any of them crank out any sort of Listen, Conservative jabber?

Even the current "heterodox" conservative writers who do lambaste the base, such as Kevin Williamson and J.D. Vance, are not encouraging those folks to listen to ideas from the "other side" in order to synthesize some sort of magical winning coalition that can actually get shit done. They're simply telling the goobers on their side to get their shit together and start taking responsibility for themselves. They sure as hell aren't telling them to watch The Wire and listen to Beyoncé.

Look. None of this is to say that all pop culture is shit, and all the people who enjoy it are stupid. The problem is Moore's thesis that centers the most vapid pop culture artifacts as some sort of barometer for understanding the mindset of the average American. And the sad fact is that if Moore is correct in that estimation, then we are waaayyyyy more fucked than we can possibly imagine.

Wednesday, October 04, 2017

Twilight of Hot Take Nation

I don't have any pithy thoughts on What Happened In Las Vegas. It's tragic, but not unexpected; as mentioned here countless times, we have become inured to the mayhem, accustomed to thinking of these events as the cost of doing business. So this is the cost, an annual blood sacrifice of several dozen innocent lives, so that the oppressive state doesn't impose too harshly on the rights of lawful gun users.

It would be no surprise at all to find that Stephen Paddock had no political agenda whatsoever, that he was neither a Clownstick hater nor supporter, just a lone nut with lots of legally obtained firearms. This is the inadvertently nasty trick the founding fathers played on later generations, the blank insistence that any citizen has an absolute right to any sort of weapon they desire, no test for qualification or competence.

There are, I believe some exculpatory perspectives on the absolutism of the Second Amendment. The main one is that, in societies with real gun control, there is an overt emphasis on the "monopoly of force" that is to be the prerogative of the state. Technically, if the state apparatus is popularly elected and supported, then said force should represent a willful and lawful majority of the citizens, versus the accumulated stockpiles of regional warlords and assorted cranks. Still, the view is at odds with the actual history and culture of the United States.

Second to that is the hoary but still true analogy that we don't take everyone's cars away when some dipshit careens through a farmers' market and takes out a dozen pedestrians. (Of course, we do test for driver competence, but go out on any given road for, say, fifteen minutes, and try to keep count of how many morons you encounter.)

People can and do go back and forth on all the facets of this issue, with the usual results. Whatever else you may hear over the coming week, however cynical or political or naively idealistic, the bottom line is this:  the cost of not changing is not yet greater than the cost of changing. This is the operative axiom for any major (or even moderate) societal change, period. It is as universal a law as gravity.

Tragically, in a geographically secure nation of 320 million people, you probably never reach that point of equilibrium where gun control laws would be implemented across the nation. There is too much invested in the rhetoric of "states' rights" and "tradition" and that sort of thing. Even standardizing basic background checks and waiting periods would be impossible.

If the Sandy Hook massacre -- a crazy asshole using his mommy's Bushmaster rifle to murder a classroom full of first-graders -- didn't change anything, you unfortunately have to start considering the moral calculus at work here. It's a ghoulish exercise in reverse engineering:  what would it take to get meaningful gun control laws across the country, 100, 200, 500 people? What is the benchmark, the casualty count at which enough people say, "Okay. Fuck this."? Seriously, try to conjure up a suitable number and setting for yourself.

The really strange thing about all this is that Americans are notoriously willing -- eager, in fact -- to embrace any manner of intrusions for the illusion of security. We'll stand in line for hours on end to be randomly searched and probed by TSA schmucks so's we can fly to Hawaii; we've passively accepted the mass surveillance of our emails and online communiques; we routinely let overzealous Barney Fife types push us around at traffic stops. Considering the statistical facts that fewer individuals own more guns, it's weird that the majority of 'murkins seem to be fine with this absolutism when it comes to gun rights.

So this is all old, well-trod ground. We've been hashing this bullshit out for as long as I care to remember, while the NRA continued -- and still does -- to build political influence on the bodies of the slain, fear-mongering to the fearful and paranoid.

What's more interesting (to me, anyway) is the meta aspect of it all -- the collective commentary on the event, then the secondary commentary on the initial commentary, etc. Something like this:  The Gateway Pundit retard posts a bullshit item about the shooting, it gets carried on Facebook because Zuckerberg gives less than a quarter of a fuck about anything besides raking in dough, and lowly bloggerses futilely attempt to clear up the facts as they are known. And nothing results from any of it, ever.

This dynamic has become at best a collective catharsis, a tacit acknowledgement that we are well and truly screwed, and can't do jack shit about it but complain and hope that the benevolent aliens hear us. And then we're all right back at square one for the next one, like it'll turn out any different. This is a classic death spiral; if you had a cousin like this, you'd get together with family and hold an intervention, if only to register your concerns before it was "too late."

I think it's too late, in many respects. When it comes to the daily concern of how to manage the mad emperor, I have a reasonable level of competence that Bob Mueller has unearthed at least enough evidence to shame and disempower him, if not remove him from power outright.

But that does fuck-all about the disease of which Snowflake is but a nasty symptom -- it brings no jobs back, it doesn't lessen the causes or effects of ongoing climate change, it doesn't get opposing cadres of 'murkins out of each others' collective asses, stoked by the ministrations of the orange insect overlord.

The commentariat --- and hell, I'll even throw myself in as a barnacle on the hull of internets discussion -- is as bad as the "conventional" mediots at this point. We can all poke fun at the media monkeys dancing to the corporate tune, penned in at a rally, having to contend with barely ambulatory morons screaming at them and flipping them off, and dutifully transcribing the proceedings like a bunch of assholes. But we bloggerses are much the same, meta-commenting and snarking and such like, but not really affecting anything meaningful. Yes, so-and-so is a certifiable, provable asshole, but the proof means nothing when said asshole just got elected, because enough of your fellow countrymen are toxic douchebags.

Maybe this is what a dying post-industrial empire looks like:  everyone endlessly commenting on everyone else and nobody listening, just shoveling shit into an entropic void.

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Litmus Test

Folks are always taking those dopey Which Dukes of Hazzard Character Are You? quizzes on the Facebook and such. I have here for you a much simpler, quicker, and infinitely more accurate psych battery for you:

  1. If you are angry about NFL players taking a quiet knee during the national anthem before the game, than you were about nazis in Charlottesville waving the flags of extinguished enemy nations, you are:
    A. an idiot
    B. an asshole
    C. a charter member of Cult 45
    D. all of the above
  2. If you insist that protesting during the anthem is the same as protesting against the anthem, and therefore "disrespectful,", but you were unconcerned about a presidential candidate taunting a tortured combat veteran and heckling a Gold Star family whose son was killed in combat, you are:
    A. a moron
    B. a liar
    C. unclear on what the First Amendment actually means
    D. all of the above
Pretty simple, right? If there's one thing that's depressingly consistent about the rube contingent that infests and propagates and keeps this nation down in perpetuity, it that these shameless assholes fetishize the symbols of democracy to a creepy extent, while simultaneously expressing utter hostility to the most important principle of democracy, that of free speech.

They seem unclear on what the First Amendment actually means, and what it entails. It is meaningless if it doesn't protect unpopular speech. It is useless if it does not allow nazis to march peacefully in a college town, or athletes to express their concerns in one of the few ways a black man in a culturally prominent role can get the attention of white people.

I don't want to hear anymore bullshit about "disrespect" from someone who talked shit about whether John McCain is a war hero or not. I've said it before, but let's do it once more:  I've taken more than my share of pot-shots at Poor Ol' Straight Talk, especially when he summoned the Arctic Harpy as his running mate in '08 (probably by saying her name aloud five times in front of a bathroom mirror). But it was always about things he said or did in a political context.

The Vietnam War, the farther we get away from it, looms more and more as a moral catastrophe in the US' history, which is saying something. There's not much debate these days from any political position that it was strategically and morally indefensible in retrospect. And one might say something about the morality of dropping death from far above, frequently on defenseless rural villages.

But here's the deal:  when McCain was shot down in his bomber, both arms and a leg were fractured. When the Vietnamese pulled McCain from his downed plane, they crushed his shoulder with a rifle butt and bayoneted him. He was tortured for months before the Vietnamese decided to make a propaganda effort to release him, since McCain's father was the supreme Navy commander for the Pacific region. McCain refused to be released before officers that had been held longer; the enraged Vietnamese immediately re-broke both his arms, knocked out all his teeth, and tortured him mercilessly for months after. (David Foster Wallace describes all this and more in his famous essay Up, Simba, or you can read the rundown here.)

McCain certainly has plenty of faults -- he was a cocky, swaggering asshole who routinely endangered other pilots and shipmates, and after his release from the Hanoi Hilton, he treated his first wife horribly. And again, the war itself is and was morally irredeemable. However, none of those things detracts from the simple fact that McCain endured horrendous treatment that would break most of us, and much of that came after he conducted himself honorably by refusing early release from a literal torture chamber.

All of that occurred while Bone Spurs McHairpiece was going through his own "personal Vietnam" by supposedly fucking everything that moved within reach of him. For all of his flaws, John McCain has more honor and courage in the sweat on his droopy old-man balls, than Fuckface von Clownstick ever had in his entire miserable body.

So anyone who's taking that "disrespect" tack about professional athletes expressing their opinion about something that affects many of them on a very personal level, they can shove it up their ass, take it up with their disgrace of a "leader," a crazy old man who's still butt-hurt that the NFL refused to let him buy the Buffalo Bills, because he's a greasy shyster who never pays his fucking bills and screws over everyone who's dumb enough to do business with.

Strange Magic

As everyone predicted, oversized machine hack Luther Strange lost his primary in 'murka's Taint to Christofascist Roy, I say, Roy Moore. What's funny -- but like everything else, not at all surprising -- is that HRH Emperor Snowflake has backtracked through his tweet-machine to drop his inconvenient truths down the digital poop-chute.

Make no mistake:  Roy Moore is as whackjob as they come, a true embarrassment to the notion of an impartial judicial bench beholden to the law of the land, as opposed to his interpretations of the verses of his book. He's a Christian Sharia judge, pure and simple.

Over the next year, we'll be hearing any number of things about money raised and spent, various modes of voter suppression, etc. It will be presented in the context of fatalistic inevitability, as if it is merely a matter of sheer determinism that people will always vote for the best-funded candidate, or that they are powerless to take steps to ensure that they are not unduly franchised.

So that's what needs to be pummeled into the brain stems of Alabamans who might find themselves repulsed at the idea of this peacocking little shithead representing their state in the US Senate -- you don't have to vote for the guy with the most commercials, or the last commercial you hear before the election. You are still allowed to go to the public liberry; you are still allowed to turn away from this week's Two Minutes of Hate for uppity black athaletes, and read a book or an article about anything, anything at all.

Also, too:  you have more than thirteen months before the election. That's a lot of time to double-check with your county elections office and make sure you are correctly registered to vote. It might take a fifteen-minute phone call to do that. It might take slightly longer to register to vote by mail, which I promise you will be the best move you ever made. If your state requires voter ID, you have time to acquire that ID. Maybe it costs twenty bucks. That's not fair, but even poor people are usually able to look around them and find twenty bucks worth of things they can get by without for a couple weeks -- smokes, snacks, cable, etc.

We can debate the fairness of things like voter IDs, but the point really is that all of these simple steps described in the above paragraph, for someone who might be uncertain about their ability to exercise their right as a citizen of this country, can be done well before next year's election. Hell, it can be done before this Christmas, probably before Halloween.

So how badly do you want it, how urgent is it to you to stand against the fuckery of the world right now, and the agents of that fuckery, such as Roy Moore? Either it's important enough to step up and take care of your business -- here, now, while the election's still a mile off -- or it isn't. Either you have skin in this game, and something to lose -- your health care, your right to get married or adopt, your basic right to walk down the street and live your life and mind your fucking business without being treated like a subhuman -- or you don't.

Personally, I don't have any skin in any of these games. Being a straight, married, middle-aged, gainfully employed white guy with insurance, I'm in the fucking wheelhouse. But I still care about what kind of country this is going to be, and we all have to understand that it takes constant effort. It does not end with the election, it begins with the election -- if your candidate wins, then you work to support their efforts and platform; if a Roy Moore type wins, you do what you can to dump him the next time around. That's it. That's all there is to this.

I don't live anywhere near Alabama, I don't know anyone there, and I doubt I'll ever set foot within a thousand miles of there. (A southern man don't need me around anyhow.) So there's nothing I can do about whether Alabama sends Roy Moore to the Senate next year or not. That's up to the residents of that state. No one wants to hear about how someone's diaper is full -- either you can vote or you can't, and either you pay attention and take care of business or you don't.

Sunday, September 24, 2017

Bum's Rush

When I speak intemperately of the toxic orange slug festering in the people's house -- and frankly, that is the only proper way to mention Emperor Snowflake -- there are myriad reasons for that tone, every single one of them provided by Himself.

This is fucking unacceptable, every bit of it, and it's been a pleasure and a joy this fine weekend to watch athletes of all races and multiple sports unite against it. There's a reason Colin Kaepernick's jersey was the biggest seller last year, after he began taking his weekly stand (so to speak). It's the same reason NFL players are linking arms today, why the Pittsburgh Steelers refused as a team (except for offensive lineman Alejandro Villanueva, who is an Army veteran) to even step foot on the field for the anthem.

Obviously, sports occupy a very peculiar place in the national psyche, and of course it's even more absurdly pronounced in many other nations, where soccer riots and such are not uncommon. The movement of a ball can do some hinky shit to the brains of otherwise fairly normal people. So of course there are those who are deeply butt-hurt over all this mishegoss. They are very wound up about the "disrespect shown to our military," but you can bet your next paycheck they have fuck-all to say about someone who taunted a tortured military veteran, who talked shit about a Gold Star family who lost their son in combat, who propagated a FUCKING BIRTHER LIE for FIVE FUCKING YEARS.

Respect, it seems, is only important to these folks when it involves people and things they care about. I know, I know, try to contain your shock at this amazing revelation.

The bigger picture is that the walls are closing in, and Old Man Clownstick is rage-tweeting while he's filling his old-man diapers, because Mueller's got his fucking number, because now it turns out that his own team has been using private email accounts (LOCK THEM UP! LOCK THEM UP!), because his approval rating scraped forty percent last week after he managed not to completely fuck up the hurricane responses in Texas and Florida. (Puerto Rico, on the other hand....), because the jig is about to be up, and he desperately needs a distraction.

Jesus H. Christ, this doddering dotard was so discombobulated the other night with his half-witted endorsement of oversized tool Luther Strange, he actually acknowledged that he might have made a mistake in endorsing Strange, and that maybe he should endorse ultra-whackjob Roy Moore. (By the way:  fuck you, Alabama, for foisting that piece of shit on the rest of the country.)

Most of all, even the cultiest of supporters have to acknowledge, if only to themselves, that if the world is a flaming hellscape -- if we are under mortal threat from North Korea and Iran, if ISIS is still imping along, if we are stuck in a failed war in Afghanistan and a despicable genocide in Yemen, then how does this fucking asshole have the time to worry about professional athletes exercising their First Amendment rights?

There needs to be a reckoning:  for the piece of shit defiling the nation's highest office on a daily basis; for the idiots and cranks who put him there; for the party that continues to enable this monster because they value billionaire tax cuts over everything; for the transnational merchant princes who bought enough politicians from both parties to create the conditions that made it possible for the P.O.S. to slither into office in the first place.

More and more people are recognizing these increasingly authoritarian conditions for what they are, and for what King Asshole wants them to be. Athletes using their positions to express resistance to this is a great thing, and hopefully the start of something greater. Let there be no confusion -- this is a warped, demented old man, a divisive, hateful, incompetent scumbag who needs to be stopped. Now.

Monday, September 18, 2017

The Rehabilitation of Baghdad Bob

If the denizens of Tinseltown haven't torn any ligaments stroking each other and patting their own backs, they might want to take a moment to reflect on how sometimes the view of them as supercilious dilettantes is justified. Is there a particular need to resurrect Sean Spicer's career right now, that the peons were unaware of, and do our dancing entertainment monkeys need to lead that effort at the very same awards show where they repeatedly (and rightly) lambaste Spicer's former(?) boss.

It shouldn't need to be said that if you want people to take your stated political convictions seriously, as in I may or may not agree with everything you say, but it sounds like you've thought your positions through and are making an effort to be intellectually honest and consistent, then you don't pull cheap stunts like that. Spicer is not allowed to be in on the joke, because he is the joke; worse yet, he was the willing homunculus for a lying, corrupt, demented old man and his crime family.

In making Spicey the Sammy the Bull of the west coast political smart set, Stephen Colbert and whoever else masterminded this nonsense exposed themselves once again that, like their media weasel counterparts, clickbait and eyeballs rank over everything, including political principles. This little asshole actively worked to undermine this nation's confidence in their institutions. He willingly enabled the most corrosive political figure in our lifetimes to seek rhetorical cover behind lies and transparent bullshit. No one forced him, and I'm sure the checks cleared.

Spicer is a henchman, a dogsbody. He should not be stunt-cast on the Emmys, or invited to Harvard as a guest lecturer, He should be completely bereft of further career options, and go back to his rightful place in the food chain -- as the White House Easter Bunny.

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Ladies and Gentlemen, the "Leader" of the Free World

Some places refer to HRH Emperor Snowflake Fuckface von Clownstick by his given name and official title. "Respect for the office" or some such bullshit, as if he has ever shown any respect for the fucking office.

Here's reason #1,359,277 why I will never refer to him as such, ever. He retweeted that the other day, but he cries like the LITTLE BITCH that he is every time someone does something similar about him. Fuck him, and fuck his dipshit supporters that, no matter their meaningless demurrals, support this kind of nonsense as well.

There are no two ways about this -- Snowflake/Clownstick is an embarrassment to this country. He's a miserable whiny cunt, and a horrible excuse for a human being. It's going to take a generation just to get rid of the shame of having this piece of shit in charge of anything more complicated than an ice cream truck.

So. What's it gonna be, 'murka? Tired of having a disgrace run the place? Are we motivated enough to get off our lazy asses and actually show up to the voting booth next time, and every time?

I don't just blame the dipshit deplorables for putting this fucking fool in a position of power -- I blame every putative "liberal" and "progressive" who just couldn't stomach voting for her, who both-sided the choice until they lost all rational perspective, or just took it all for granted because the retard pollsters insisted she had this in the bag.

You know why they insisted that she had it in the bag? Because no rational person could conceive of a situation in which enough people were stupid enough to vote for a lifelong three-card monte huckster. It's that simple. The majority assumed that the moron minority was smaller than it actually was. No one wanted to believe there are so many dumbasses in one place, that they can't see the craven misogyny, projection, and outright incompetence that fills every pore of Snowflake's fat diaper-clad body.

I said this shortly after the election, and it still stands:  liberals who were paying attention were forced to decide whether the nation was in the process of becoming something we no longer recognized, or whether it simply reinforced what it has always been in so many respects.

Either you side with college-turd tiki-torch suburbo-nazis, or you don't. Either you side with fat militia cosplay wannabes toting assault weapons, or you don't. Either you side with a fat, dementia-addled old man who rage-tweets his dumps and routinely retweets sentiments from "white genocide" types and wishes physical harm on those who oppose him, or you don't. I don't like the window-breaking antifa types, nor do I care for the trigger-warning campus speech police. But I'll take a hundred of them every day of the week over a single one of these endlessly projecting crybaby hypocrites.

And I sincerely hope that every one of them gets what's coming to them, which is a continuation -- an acceleration, in fact -- of all the circumstances that drove them into the arms of a con man.

Friday, September 15, 2017

Into the Void

Something non-political for a change, and infinitely more momentous:  after twenty years of faithful service, the Saturn spacecraft Cassini reached the end of its life-span, and plunged into the planet's surface. It took some unbelievable photos over the years. That's an amazing thing, one that transcends the smallness and venality of our earthly concerns, the amateur Kremlinology and dopey reality-teevee politicking.

Cassini serves as a wondrous reminder of what the human mind can achieve in its quest for real knowledge and our place in the universe.

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Days of Whine and Poses, Slight Return

I don't begrudge Hillary Clinton the right to tell her side of the story and make a juicy buck off it, but it becomes tiring that every move she makes ends up becoming some sort of tactic or gambit in this weird, ongoing low-level dummycrat civil war between the Clintonistas and the Bernie Brats. This seems to be a recurring theme with her supporters over the years, and it's become tiresome and counterproductive.

Sanders has his flaws, but near as I can tell, he's at least trying to move a progressive piece of health-care legislation forward. (Funny how he managed to get something together to introduce in just a few months, while doing stump speeches around the country, while the Goopers thumbed their dicks for seven years and came up with jack shit.) Perhaps it occurs to some of the Bernie bashers that he is useful as a stalking horse for whatever actual liberals exist among Democratic senators; if the bill gets slammed, they can disavow it, if people love it, they can support him.

Or we can keep re-litigating last year's ultimate dog-fuck of an electoral loss until we're all sick of life itself. Blame Comey, the media, the Russians, whatever. You think the media just started fucking up their coverage last year? Tell it to Howard Dean, tell it to John Kerry or Mike Dukakis. The real problem is that too much of the electorate is now either completely disengaged or borderline retarded, and it's hard to come up with a sales pitch beyond the confines of Ooga-booga big! Ooga-booga strong!

But them's the perils of democracy, or the trappings of it. Here's a thought -- maybe if the rich paid their fair share, both in wages and taxes, we might be able to have schools that do more than warehouse the future meatbags.

I'm tired of hearing how their diaper is always full. They can't seem to talk enough people into voting for their own rational self-interest, and it's always someone else's fault. They sound like a bunch of alcoholics and junkies half the time, never accepting any blame for anything, no matter how obvious. They had the election gift-wrapped to them, thanks to the most obnoxious, polarizing candidate in our lifetimes, and they still found a way to fuck it up. Own it, learn from it, and move the fuck on already. All three of those things are necessary, and they haven't even done one 'em yet.

The Democratic Party could have made any number of modest efforts to preserve even a margin in those stupid rust belt states well before 2016, and they fucking didn't. They didn't do a goddamned thing to help the rubes, but they went to the mattresses for bathroom rights, and that's why that fucking clown won, and it's why that other dipshit clown Kid Rock has a pretty solid chance of taking Debbie Stabenow's Senate seat next year.

These people couldn't fuck their way out of a wet paper bag after a fistful of Viagra. They spent good money on shit pollsters who scammed them as badly as a Clownstick University doctorate program. And they're going to do it all over again, because it's more important to them to keep reliving their epic fail, and to attack the one guy who's actually trying to do something their party used to actually stand for, when it stood for something.

Days of Whine and Poses

Edroso, as always, in on the right track here:
This goes back to something I've been saying forever about wingnut whining -- for example, when they complain that Yale and Harvard are prejudiced against them, I always say: Why not quitcher bitchin' and instead make Bob Jones and Liberty University the intellectual lighthouses to which the best students flock? Then you won't need to worry about Yale and Harvard! Bypass the gatekeepers! Be the star you are!

Similarly, why worry about the Times rankings at all? (Shoot, Regnery doesn't -- they say they'll stop using the Times rankings in their marketing which, given their bulk-sales-to-gomers approach, probably won't make any difference.) Conservatives having been saying for decades that the Times is untrustworthy and irrelevant -- why not instead lobby for the New York Post, Breitbart et alia to have their own lists, and then you can all enthuse that D'Souza's Liberal Fascism for the Even Dumber is #1 on the American Thinker Best Seller List?

The answer's pretty obvious: These guys don't really believe what they say they believe. They don't want the path cleared so they can be judged by the wide world on their own merits. What they want are the glittering prizes their enemies dispense, because somewhere deep in their blackened little souls they burn with desire for the approbation of the people they spend their days raging against, like spurned teenage suitors. And, if they can't have the prizes, they can at least retain the boogiemen -- Hollyweird! Eggheads! Shut Up and Sing! -- that they and their yokel supporters can invoke whenever they feel like having a good cry about how persecuted they are.
But I have to disagree, ever so slightly. "Conservatism" as we olds -- say, at least old enough to recall Saint Reagan's tenure clearly and in detail -- understood that word is long dead. It found itself temporarily supplanted by "neo" movementarian goons whose sole goal was to get us into Iraq (and this was before 9/11 gave us a convenient pretext). But one the neocons' war games became, well, inconvenient to their professed intemellectual strategery, the money guys got their Citizens United ruling, took a look around, and realized that what a nation full of reality-teevee-besotted retards really needed was some Real Housewives types to go to Washington, flip some tables, pull some weaves.

That engine is now being driven solely by full-blown, unapologetic reactionaries. And what reactionaries do more than anything else (as you might guess from the label) is complain. They react. And that's the problem with these assholes. They don't know how to govern, because they don't know how to take action. They only know how to rhetorically position themselves against what their sworn enemies do. They are not for anything, except destroying things. They don't have any true volition of their own.

I mean, Roy's base point is absolutely correct -- they are a bunch of fucking crybabies. And that's annoying. But the really scary thing is realizing that that really is the only song they know anymore. It was always a factor in how they defined themselves and differentiated themselves from, let's say, normal human beings. At this point, it appears to be about the only way they define themselves.

It cannot be pointed out too often how completely devoid of simple logic the conservatards' culture model really is. In their mythos, Evil Hollyweird, land of queers and jooos, forces their warped "values" on helpless reg'lar foke, who want nothin' more than good wholesome entertainment, like Hee Haw and such. (Never mind, of course, that the redder the state, the higher the divorce rate and the porn rate and the substance abuse rate, and on and on.)

Of course, none of this remotely squares with their endless jabbering about the Free Market and the Silent Majority -- or, in Dinesh D'Douchebag's case among so many others, Morality. In other words, per their pet theories, if the clear majority of the sainted 'murkin populace were really all that het up about the librul elites pushing them around at the box office, and the free market works its ineffable magic in response, then why aren't they putting these smut peddlers out of bidness, and putting their own stuff in?

I mean, did it ever occur to these culture monkeys why, of all the available networks, a show like (to cite just one notorious example) Family Guy airs on the network owned by the same asshole that peddles their propaganda on another of his networks? That maybe this is all just a long con, and they've always been the real marks?

Sunday, September 10, 2017

The Continuing Adventures of Florida Man

Good luck to everyone in Florida with one hurricane barreling through and another on its way, although there's a good chance that Irma and Jose will take plenty of morons with them.

The Freewheelin' Fuckface Von Clownstick

I don't know if the PTB at the FTFNY doesn't realize how many people are utterly repelled by bullshit like this, or they just don't care anymore. If they want to keep putting the "anal" in "analysis" and pulling nonsense like that out of their poopchutes, about all anyone can do is just avoid them like the plague. And of course WaPo isn't far behind. These people just can't help themselves.

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Well, You Could Knock Me Over With a Fucking Feather

It's like you already knew, it's like I've been saying for so many years, more so the last couple years -- they define themselves by their opposition to the caricature in their brains. Cleek's Law is as real as the First Amendment. Don't doubt it for a second. At least they're becoming more honest and upfront.

That's because they -- to use what they would consider librul jargon -- feel empowered, emboldened, encouraged. His belated demurrals make the indecent feel embraced, as if he's speaking to them in a code only they can understand, while the rest of us are left bemused, bewildered.

This is what they count on, what they subsist on. They're not even bothering to hide behind some book or Austrian economist or some such. This is pure fuck you, whaddaya gonna do about it?

And you know what? They have a point, however demented it may be. How's that "when they go low, we go high" shit been working out for everyone? Look at your state house, your congressional reps, your executive and judicial branches. They drank our milkshake while the Democrats were haggling over bathroom rights. Awesome.

Most of all, this is proof positive that Fuckface Von Clownstick is merely a symptom; the Republican Party is the end-stage (as Charlie Pierce puts it) prion disease that comes from eating the monkey brains. Clownstick is the culmination of decades of work, and as such, even if we find a way to get rid of his incontinent, doddering ass, they'll just find a smoother, sleeker version to pimp the same asshole message.

But the main point is this:  they are able to simultaneously buy the premise that the country is a flaming hellscape needing serious expertise to repair it all, and hand the job over to a moron who is months away from smearing his old-man, KFC-smelling poop all over the Oval Office walls. There is truth to the idea that a sophisticated mind can hold two contrary ideas at the same time; this becomes inoperative when both ideas are completely awful and stupid.

This is where, once again, we may collectively want to look past the current threat of Clownstick's ape-like mendacity, and realize that he's simply the current avatar of what that entire party is thinking, and we'd better get with the program fucking quick-like, or they're going to finish that steamroll job they've been doing. Fuck these assholes; fight or die.

Sunday, August 27, 2017

It Was At That Moment That He Truly Became Dear Leader

"And the Internet was such a jumble of false and true factoids that no one believed what was on it anymore, or else they believed all of it, which amounted to the same thing." -- Margaret Atwood, The Year of the Flood, p. 293

Let's explore a small but important footnote from Tuesday's Two Hours of Hate in Satan's Asshole, better known as Phoenix. At the usual "fake media" attack point in Snowflake's babbling greatest-shits nonsense, he observed that there were several news cameras filming and recording the lies for the bafflement of posterity. He then asserted that because he was talking shit about them, some of them were stopping the filming, that camera lights were going out.

It doesn't need to be stated for the record that that wasn't at all true, right? And yet, despite him telling them to look, and presumably them doing so, and seeing that the cameras were not in fact being turned off, many people in the (admittedly small, perhaps even smaller than Snowflake's tiny wittle doll hands) audience, grumbled in agreement with their dark lord.

In other words, despite being able to see for themselves a very simple empirically verifiable fact -- the lights are either on or off -- these folks looked, and listened, and decided that whatever Snowflake said must be the "truth," simply because he said it. These people have lost their fucking minds. They are more than happy to drive off the cliff with him.

Saturday, August 26, 2017


This made my day. Watch the video. Good stuff. Fuck that cow and whatever's incubating inside her.

Flaw and Ordure

A frequent gag on The Simpsons consists of showing what's going on in Homer's brain in a given moment. Generally it's what you would expect - monkeys picking bugs off each others' asses, Homer eating a sandwich, that sort of thing.

It's not unreasonable to assume much the same thing going on between Emperor Snowflake's dried-apricot ears. In disgraced Arizona "sheriff" Joe Arpaio, Snowflake has made a point of pardoning what he clearly sees as a kindred spirit, a fellow birther-conspiracy dirtbag. No surprise there; Snowflake pretty much telegraphed his intentions at his half-attended stemwinder in Phoenix last Tuesday.

The moral cretinism underpinning this move, coming as it did while everyone was focused on Hurricane Harvey getting ready to slam into Galveston, cannot be overstated. Since Arpaio may be one of the few people in American public life who is even more of a vicious asshole than Snowflake, it makes a warped sort of sense.

But strategically, it makes no sense at all. Yes, like everything else he's done, it's a big middle finger to libtards, sure to whip up the proverbial base. But that base is starting to wear out a bit, and is only going to continue to do so as this moron continues stomping his way through everything. Even these drooling meatbags have to start seeing that he's a one-trick pony, and it's really not much of a trick, especially when some of us are making a point of laughing at him -- and them -- rather than recoiling in horror.

Additionally, it draws a wedge between Snowflake and his own party, who are rapidly getting tired of dealing with his erratic, impulsive incompetence. If Fatboy wants to throw his cameltoe behind Chemtrail Kelli Ward in the GOP primary against Jeff Flake, let him. It will be an excellent test of exactly where his level of support really is. But the bottom line is, there is almost no way that pardoning Arpaio just to be a dick turns out to be anything but counterproductive for his own agenda. It's like he did it just because people advised him not to. Fuck you, you can't tell me what to do!

Let's not put too fine a point on it -- Arpaio is not just a racist, he's a sadist. He delights in inflicting pain and torture on his inmates, many of whom, let's recall, are still awaiting trial, and are hence technically not guilty of anything yet. He frequently referred to his tent-city sweat box as a "concentration camp," took perverse pride in cheap punitive stunts such as banning newspapers, eliminating salt and pepper.

Hundreds of people have died in his concentration camp, from heat exhaustion, beatings from guards (surveillance cameras caught an inmate tied to a restraining chair and beaten to death by fourteen guards, because the prison screw's spirit animal is the cowardly but vicious hyena), hanging. Hundreds of sex assault cases, including dozens of children, went uninvestigated because Arpaio waned his deputies focused on harassing beaners. He's cruel just for the sheer joy of inflicting cruelty on those he deems deserving.

He's a bastard through and through; the reason Arpaio's mother died giving birth to him is that she wanted to get away from what she knew from the start would be a shameful legacy. When he does finally kick off, he should be dragged into the desert and left for the vultures.

The good news hidden in this is that the acceptance of a pardon is by definition an admission of guilt for purposes of civil suits. That means that this 85-year-old shitbird may very well spend the rest of his rotten life having damages incurred against his personal assets. Maricopa County has paid out somewhere in the neighborhood of $50 million over the years from his abuses and excesses, which provides a number of precedents for future civil suits on Arpaio personally. I hope they nail his greasy ass to the wall. It's a goddamned shame he won't do any time in his own jail. Let him sit in a 135-degree tent in pink underwear. It won't happen, but watching him die broke and harassed would be some consolation.

The more troublesome aspect of this, of course, is that the pardon is not just a middle finger to libtards, it's a middle finger to the rule of law. It's a clear, deliberate expression of the emperor's contempt for any law or rule or norm that runs counter to what this doddering psychopath wants at a given moment. These are classic moves out of the dictator's playbook -- threatening the media, encouraging fascists by equating them with their opponents (really, people who hate nazis are as bad as nazis?), doing absolutely nothing to reach out to the majority of the population who did not vote for him, consolidating and rallying his base support.

The reason he got this far is because no one in any position of power or responsibility took his insurgency seriously enough to smack it down before it could gather momentum. That has changed; people from the Capitol to the street are slowly but surely starting to mobilize. There are people who want their country back. We'll see if there are enough of them. In the meantime, maybe we all need to mass-mail as many congress-critters as possible that they need to step up and resist this asshole as well.

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Thirteenth Step

[Post title because I'm currently listening to the Perfect Circle album of that title, but it's also relevant to the topic at hand.]

Since Hillary Clinton's account of last year's fiasco is coming out imminently, so are the virtual pitchforks and torches (tiki and otherwise) in response. It is rapidly becoming another Smug-ageddon between rump factions of erstwhile Clintonistas and ever-hopeful Berniebros, with the latter group wond'ring aloud why she refuses to kindly fuck off already, and the former group offering to kindly help the Berniebros over the nearest cliff.

As someone who voted enthusiastically for Sanders in the primaries, and nearly as enthusiastically for Clinton in the general election, let me offer some perspective in good faith. I don't begrudge at all Clinton knocking out a book as a commercially viable catharsis, for her and perhaps for many of us. Some are annoyed about the "timing," as if that were under her control, or that there would ever be an ideal time under the current reign of error.

In fact, I would say the timing of the book's release is damn near ideal. Consider the following:
  • Senatorial leather gimp Addison M. "Turtle Fucker" McConnell may be heading into a death embrace over Reichenbach Falls with Emperor Snowflake. McConnell and soulless henchman "Better Call" Paul Ryan thought they had this one in the bag, that they could steer this "outsider" doofus into doing their bidding. Now it is starting to dawn on them that a bull in a china shop just means a lot of broken plates and bullshit everywhere. Hoocoodanode? At any rate, McConnell is "privately" (in other words, leaking to the Fucking New York Times) musing that Combover Caligula's dumbfuckery is bad for the Goopers' main business at hand, which is always and forever separating working people from their money and handing over to rich assholes who use it to keep score against each other.
  • Apparently Congress will only be in session for twelve days next month, because it's only the end of the fucking fiscal year, and major portions of the budget, including the debt ceiling, are still being figured out (in other words, deciding whose poopchute the thing gets rammed into without lube). Herr Kanzler wants some money set aside to start that wall that the Meskins were are going to pay for. It is safe to assume at this point that his master plan is to get them to pay for it by hiring a Mexican contractor to build it, and then not pay them.
  • Hillary Clinton, whose political career is truly over and done with, and who now has no conceivable thing to lose, is going to flood the zone promoting her book. She has absolutely no incentive to hold back with her opinions, and has already leaked a piece describing Shithead as a "creep." Oooh, shots fired!
At the heart of the criticism of Clinton (I think) is really the sinking feeling that the Democratic Party has failed to provide a sense of direction -- and more importantly, a new central figure around which to rally and take cues from. Patience (certainly not one of my strong suits) is the key here; yes, it's frustrating that the Dems are content to play prevent defense for now, but all eyes are on the guy down the road setting fire to his ammo shed, and there's not much they could say to draw attention anyway.

We all have this sensation of time accelerating lately, because that seems to be the overall dynamic anymore, and because none of us are used to having to worry several times a day what the occupant of the White House is up to. The corollary to that psychological effect is that it seems like it's taking forever to get rid of this motherfucker. And it is.

But he hasn't gotten a single meaningful thing done, and doesn't look to in the near future. His sole accomplishment in seven months is filling a SCOTUS seat that was stolen for him by the aforementioned turtle fucker. No health-care bill; no wall; no tax reform, as we head into the holiday season. That means that by the time he gives his first State of the Onion speech [rolls eyes], he will have exactly jack-fucking-shit to hang his hairpiece on. And that's only if Bob Mueller's team hasn't nailed his fat fucking diapered ass to the wall by then.

The Dem dynamic since November has been a weird muddle of contrition and bewilderment -- they're very sorry about fucking the dog, but they're not sure why, or even what breed the dog was. It's very difficult to apologize for something when you're not sure what you did, or if you disagree with people who tell you what you did wrong.

No matter, what's done is done. They need to move on, and do so with deliberation. The first thing they need to do is abandon this limp-dick "when they go low, we go high" bullshit. FUCKING STOP ALREADY. Look, people are pissed off, and not entirely without some justification, and many of them cannot articulate exactly why. They need catharsis. This is true on both sides.

It doesn't mean you send out Gavin Newsom (or whoever) to recite a laundry list of made-up anecdotes, like Snowflake. That's the beauty of it -- the Democrats don't have to lie at all, they can just point out the ugly truth. But they have to pack a punch now. They need to step up when Snowflake lies and flat-out say, That's a goddamned lie. He keeps lying. Why do people let this asshole keep lying about every motherfucking thing?

They need to look at this like it's a straight-up marketing campaign. Who are our rock stars for next year? Let's get them on the Sunday morning jerk-off chat shows, as much as possible! Get Kirsten Gillibrand (or the aforementioned Newsom) in there to tune up Poor Ol' Straight Talk or Huckleberry Closetcase or whatever dipshit warhorse they haven't shipped off to the glue factory just yet. Get an experienced media presence like Al Franken in there to fuck some people up with his impeccable timing. Let loose the House dogs, like Seth Moulton and Adam Schiff.

That's a big part of the frustration of the anti-Hillary crowd. It's not that they literally need her to disappear from public life, it's that they need to see where the party is going, and who's going to lead it forward. Someone under retirement age, for fuck's sake. That is not ageism, it's the simple fact that technology is altering the workforce and careerism much faster than our system has kept up, and there are some serious tectonic changes coming that Grandma Feinstein has no clue about, unless her great-grandchildren have told her about it during Murder, She Wrote reruns.

Seriously, I do not for the life of me understand the inner workings of the Democratic Party. They could crush these fuckers with a modest amount of coordination -- one or two personalities and messages to rally around, and they could kick this outhouse over. The Republicans, despite their numerical dominance, are on the verge of electoral collapse. The health-care fiasco proved it; they had seven years to come up with anything, and they thumbed their dicks. They're a shoddy operation, they're on the ropes.

Finish them off, this time for good. Sweep the knee, you fucking pussies. Either that, or recognize that both parties are good and dead, nothing more than shambling husks that don't know it yet, and adjust your social network strategy accordingly.