Archive for June, 2007

Mid-Afternoon High Five: The Left Coaster

If you’d like to be a part of the “reality-based community” {and really, who wouldn’t?? … I’m not speaking to you, Dick Cheney}, then head on over to The Left Coaster today. 

Mr. Steve Soto is one of the only people talking about the fact that Obama said he wouldn’t impeach the President or Vice President in the latest round of debates.  Hmm … maybe these candidates should stop debating every five minutes, and I don’t know … like, pay attention. 

So high five to the The Left Coaster … don’t leave me hangin’ ~

29

06 2007

Chronicles of People Missing the Point – Hardball Edition

Every once in a while, someone in the public eye spouts something so completely off base that it borders on the ridiculous.  I respectfully chronicle those vacations of mental pragmatism in a segment I like to call CHRONICLES OF PEOPLE MISSING THE POINT. 

So I had this nightmare recently (try 10 minutes ago) where I was sitting in a room filled with 5th graders in a media class taught by my friend, Chris Matthews.  I’m not sure if he too was in the 5th grade, but really, who can tell with those pinchable cheeks of his?  I was an adult sitting at what felt like a Fisher Price school set. 

Chris, wearing a crisply pressed academic robe, wrote ferociously on the chalkboard the following question:

Why has the level of discourse in the media sunk to such shocking levels [NOTE: Instead of a question mark, he drew a picture of a middle finger.]

Like the echoes of yester-year, my right arm flew up practically dislocating itself from my shoulder.  A 9 year old Larry King laughed at me until I wiggled from my desk and drop-kicked his back pack down the aisle.  His glasses fogged he wailed so much.

Chris didn’t call on me.  Bastard.  Why don’t teachers ever call on me?

Chris:  Rita?

Anderson:  I thought Rita Cosby was in the slow class!

Chris:  Mr. Cooper, your attitude better do a 360 turn-around, my friend.

Boo:  Then he’d be back where he started.

Chris:  Rita, do you have anything you’d like to contribute to the class?

Rita:  Larry Birkhead said Dannielynn has Anna’s eyes.

She pulled a nut from her cheek, sniffed it, then ate it.

Chris:  Anyone? … Fine.  Boo, why has -

Finally my moment had arrived!  I sat up as straight as I could in my midget desk.

Boo:  You see, Mr. Matthews -

Chris:  Is my father here? 

Chris darted out the door to look down the hallway.

Chris:  Shit!  My brick of hash -

Boo:  You are Mr. Matthews, retard.

He froze, trying to recover his cool with a grin.  It didn’t work.

Boo:  Can I continue?

Chris:  Go ahead.

Boo:  You see, unlike in the days of Edward R. Murrow, news divisions have to make money.  Since money comes from advertising dollars, ratings drive the content of newscasts instead of news.  So stations have to broadcast more and more bizarre things and bullshit news stories to drive ratings and keep the ad dollars flowing. 

Chris:  Really?

Boo:  Well, yeah … That and the fact that you continue to treat people like Ann Coulter like journalists.  Elizabeth Edwards asking Ann Coulter to refrain from personally insulting people to sell books is like asking Dick Cheney to read the Constitution!  She even admitted that insulting people and writing books are the same thing to her!!  She’s fucking Andy Kaufman in drag!!!

Keith:  Worst.  Person.  In the worrrrrrrrld!

Anderson:  She said fucking!

Rita:Where’s your sense of decency?

All:  Shut up, Rita!

Chris:  Folks, can we regroup here for a second?

Chris looked so mad his cheeks were the color of Rita Cosby’s hooker lipstick. 

Chris:  It’s just … It’s just that …

Boo:  What?

Chris:  She’s ratings gold!  Gold as her beautiful, blonde hair …

Boo:  There, there. 

Suddenly we were transported back to Chris’s high school room decorated wall-to-wall with pictures of Yoko Ono.

Boo:  Really?  Yoko Ono?

Chris:  SHE HAS A BEAUTIFUL MOUTH! 

I could tell right away that between me and a two-dimensional Yoko, not many girls had set foot in this room.  My pity kicked in, and I gave Chris a little hug.  He then completely ruined the moment by trying to feel me up. 

Such as it is with my friends in the media – they paint the target and miss the point.

Congratulations.  Your certificate is in the mail. 

Mid-Afternoon High Five

At the top of Ice Station’s blog is the following quote:

The 2000’s are insane.  George Orwell’s dystopia has come to life.  While the apocalyptic battle between evil and stupidity rages, I will ride it out here in Antarctica, at my own fortress of solitude.

Nice … hopefully he has bunk beds for all of us before Dick issues martial law. 

Be sure to check out his top story today: Dick Cheney Starts His Own Branch of Government. 

High five … don’t leave me hangin’ … :)

21

06 2007

Lunchtime with Boo: George … Again (damnit!!!)

It was a good thing I was trying on a new pair of astronaut diapers when the White House called to invite me to dine with George again.  Surely, most citizens – no matter what political persuasion – would relish the opportunity to have lunch at the White House.  I, on the other hand, would rather eat lunch with real learning disabled people than spend one more hour watching Karl cut the crust off George’s bread.

… but I went anyway …

When I stepped into the President’s private office, he was hunched over his true-to-scale model of the Titanic.  Truly the model is a work of art … or it would be if G.I. Joe figurines were not staging combat in the dining hall of the ship.  I stood there, after being announced, for 5 minutes while George kept rearranging the fucking benches on the deck of the ship.   

Finally, I had had about enough.

Boo:  George.  George … George!

Curiously, he covered his head and ducked like I was about to clock him.

George:  Wha???

Boo:  George, it’s me … Boo.  We have a lunch appointment, remember?

George:  No one’s eatin’ ’til I git this right, ya’ll.

Boo:  You don’t have to do the Texan twang, we’re not on camera. 

George:  Don’t mess with Texas!

Boo:  I know you’re from Connecticut, remember?

George:  Oh, right.  What do you think about these benches here? 

My stomach growled so loudly it sounded like Barney took a freedom poop on the carpet. 

Boo:  What is that mark on the Titanic’s deck?

George:  Ah shit!  Benchmarks!  I fucking hate those damned things!  I just repainted that deck because of the scratch left by the time tables. 

Boo:  The what tables?

George:  The t-y-m-e tables, Boo!  Nothing good ever came from a time table -

Boo:  Did you just spell ‘time’ with a ‘y’?

Karl:  The President and former Vice President Quayle do flashcards together.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.  I hate it when Karl sneaks up on me like that … it’s like he travels in the dark shadows empowered by an underworld of ghostly demons***.

Boo:  How many times have I asked you not to sneak up on me?

Karl:  And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?!?

Boo:  Well, technically, Karl, I’m your boss as I am a citizen of this country!

Karl:  I work for the American people!

Boo:  Yes, we went over that, remember? 

Karl:  Oh, yeah … How’s the benches coming along, George?

Boo:  I’m not sure why you’re rearranging the deck furniture over and over.  It is the Titanic after all.  It’s a little ironic …

George:  What’s irony?

I looked over at Karl who’s bloated face was also surprisingly blank. 

Boo:  Never mind.  How about we -

Suddenly, Harry Reid busted in holding his spectacles in his hand.  Tripping over the ficus tree near the door, Harry tripped right into Karl’s arms. 

Harry:  Oh, I …

Karl:  … You need to watch yourself there, Harry.

The moment was about as awkward as when I walked in on Trent Lott tea-bagging Strom Thurman under the guise of the old man’s diaper change. 

Harry:  I think I have your glasses, and you have mine.

Karl:  Oh, that’s what’s messed up my perspective all day.

Boo:  I don’t think that’s quite it, but …

They switched glasses, readjusted their eyes, and smiled at each other sweetly.  Regaining his senses, Harry gathered his things, and rushed to the door, dropping something by the couch. 

Boo:  Oh, Harry, you dropped this.

Harry: What is it?

Boo:  I think it’s your pussy … you’ll definitely need that for the Senate!

Harry:  I sure will! 

He left in a flash. 

Boo:  So can we talk about something of substance now?

George:  Like what?

Boo:  Like the fact that you vetoed the stem cell bill today?

George:  Well, of course I vetoed that bill!  Number one, I got to use my new Transformers pen … the Autobots wage their battle to destroy the evil forces of the abortionists!  [Yes, he sang it.]  Number two, it’s immoral. 

Boo:  Isn’t it just as immoral to slow the progress of a science that could help to treat and possibly cure people living with deadly diseases?

George looked like a deer in headlights.  He turned to Karl.

George:  Karl? …

Karl:  Once you’re born, we don’t really give a shit.

Boo:  OK … what about the fact that most of the embryos in question will be destroyed anyway?  Isn’t the rational view to -

Karl:  We don’t use the “r” word here, missy.

Boo:  So you don’t care about the diseases that could be treated -

George:  Oh yeah, like what diseases, missy??

I hate it when they call me missy. 

Boo:  Well, maybe they would’ve come up with a vaccine for retards and the people who vote for them.

Karl:  There’s no such thing.

Boo:  Yeah … tell me about it. 

***Actually, just one demon – Dick Cheney [who is NOT a reptoid, and he gets really pissed when people get them mixed up, btw] … *** 

Friday Video Stroll: Doctors Without Borders

A charity worth looking into:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zxQYFfBeC3s]

Don’t be such a tight ass … give them some money, and you’ll get laid within 24 hours.  DON’T BREAK THE CHAIN! 

15

06 2007

Lunchtime with Boo: Angel Gabriel Edition

As my loyal readers know, every week I have lunch with someone in the Washington establishment, and those conversations I document here for you.  However, my recent lunch appointment in Heaven took a little longer than I expected … you know, with travel fares and delays what they are in the summer. 

I met up with my good friend, the Archangel Gabriel, for a quick bite and the nickel tour.  I can’t tell you how lovely Heaven is … no really, I can’t tell you because I’ve been sworn to secrecy. 

Boo:  So how’s it been going?

Gabriel:  It’s been going alright.  Straight to H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS. 

Boo:  Oh no.  Why?

Gabriel:  Well everything was going fine, we completely refurbished the place and then Jerry got here -

Boo:  Jerry?

Gabriel:  Falwell.  Jerry Falwell.  The “reverend”.

Just on a side note, if you ever get a chance to see an Archangel use the air quotes gesture, it’s worth dying for.  Really.

Boo:  But he’s a man of faith.  His whole career was devoted to talking about Heaven and -

Gabriel:  First of all, he never plugged us.  Not once.  He only preached about who wasn’t getting in.  Oh yeah Jerry, I’m not letting homosexuals in so the Amish can decorate the place. 

Boo:  It does look amazing.

Gabriel:  See what I mean?  So he got here and starting carrying on that the Born Agains weren’t the only ones here.  The first day he arrived, he asked Kahlil Gibran to fetch him water.  Hello?!?  So Michael had to explain to him with simple sentences and monosyllabic words that GOOD people come here … not just HIS people.

Boo:  How did he take that?

Gabriel:  Well, let me just say that he’s the only person to ever get to Heaven and still have their blood pressure be a problem.  Like it was some big surprise that Jews were here.  I mean, pul-eeze, can we all let go of the Jewish damnation thing.

Boo:  I’m Jewish, and I’m here.

Gabriel:  Oh, that reminds me, make sure to get your hand stamped so you can get back in. 

Boo:  Oh, right.

Gabriel:  So what are you up to lately?

Boo:  Nothing really.  Working on my writing.  I have a blog now. 

Gabriel:  I love your blog!  And I always knew that something was going on between you and Coulter. 

Boo:  It’s kind of a sore subject, Gabe.

Gabriel:  Sorry.  But since you’ve been away, I’ve had such a hard time keeping up with Karl Rove,  Condi Rice, and the rest of the White House gang.

Boo:  I know, I know.  I’m going to try to post every day, Gabe. 

Gabriel:  Good girl.  I’ll look forward to talking when you get back.

Boo:  Me too.  Oh, and Gabe …

Gabriel:  Yeah?

Boo:  My friend, Jenn, moved in last week.  She was a great person on Earth.  Make sure she gets an awesome pad here in Heaven.

Gabriel:  Sure thing.  She’ll have some nice digs.

Boo:  But not by Jerry …

Gabriel:  Oh don’t worry about him.  There are no soap boxes in Heaven.  Now go give ‘em H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS! 

14

06 2007