Shorter Blago: You can't impeach me for loving old people and babies too much! Damn, I'm gonna miss that guy.
[Cross-posted at Rumproast]
Blago, we hardly knew ye
Unexpected headline file
See, and here I was feeling like a moron because I had this Jamaican curry take-out for lunch, knowing full well the effect it will have on me. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say I'm hoping the Air Force base 30 miles or so from where I'm sitting doesn't lose control of a heat-seeking missile. Because it would surely find my ass. Anyway, thanks blowfish-ball-eating boneheads, for raising my self esteem!Blowfish testicles poison 7 diners in Japan
Unlicensed chef prepared delicacy eaten by thrill-seeking gourmets
TOKYO - Blowfish testicles prepared by an unauthorized chef sickened seven diners in northern Japan and three remained hospitalized Tuesday after eating the poisonous delicacy.The owner of the restaurant in Tsuruoka city, who is also the chef, had no license to serve blowfish and was being questioned on suspicion of professional negligence, police official Yoshihito Iwase said.
Blowfish, while extremely poisonous if not prepared properly, is considered a delicacy in Japan and is consumed by thrill-seeking gourmets.
The "combo quote" and its uses
As you may have heard, President Obama invoked the name of impotent, drug-addled radio yapper Rush Limbaugh during a conversation with GOP politicians last week, warning that it would be unwise to allow the sort of brainless partisanship Limbaugh epitomizes to scuttle action urgently needed to address the economic crisis.
Unsurprisingly, racist toad Limbaugh took the president’s mention of his name as a symbol of all that is counterproductive and dysfunctional in American politics as a sign that he, Limbaugh, is the true leader of American conservatism. (And who knows, maybe he’s right about that.)
But in making that case on The World’s Shittiest Website™, Limbaugh used an interesting tactic to bolster his argument: a thing he called a “combo quote.” Ever heard of it? I don't think I had, or if I did, I assumed it meant a quote for multiple services or products, like say insurance for your house, car and boat. Or pricing on a Rush Limbaugh Combo: a plate of Viagra accompanied by side orders of Dominican sex slaves and cigars.
However, as it turns out, a “combo quote” is none of those things. It may in fact be a brand-new concept pioneered by Limbaugh, and it is constructed as follows:
1) Gather pieces of actual quotes reported in the media.
2) Mash them up in a self-serving way.
3) Make up even more self-serving shit.
4) Call it a "combo quote" as a truthiness fig leaf.
Lies are nothing new, of course, but calling them a "combo quote" may be a genuine innovation. At any rate, here’s the “combo quote” Limbaugh falsely attributed to the president on NRO:
"If we don't get this done we (the Democrats) could lose seats and I could lose re-election. But we can't let people like Rush Limbaugh stall this. That's how things don't get done in this town."Of course, Obama said no such thing, and had a media figure on the left put words in The Shrub’s mouth in such a dishonest manner, the hacks at NRO would be all over it. But putting aside partisan rancor, this “combo quote” thingie has potential. Allow me to demonstrate by producing one based loosely on Limbaugh’s NRO piece:
“Republicans should publicly denounce me and thus marginalize me. I’m to blame for this current debacle. Anyone with a brain knows I’m a lying douchebag, which is why I rely on brainless Dittoheads to keep my cyst-ridden, hypocritical ass in scented candles and kitty litter. -- Rush Limbaugh”See how nicely that works? The possibilities are truly limitless! Thanks, Rush!
[Cross-posted at Rumproast]
The Ox-Blago Incident
Jeebus, what a blithering nutball. Whatever point he was trying to rustle up got roped and hogtied along with the steer back at the ranch.
Also, I find it somewhat surprising that Chicago politicians seem unable to discuss political tribulations without resorting to lynching or hanging metaphors. First Bobby Rush on behalf of Roland Burris, and now Blago on behalf of Blago. WTF?
[Cross-posted at Rumproast]
Hell freezes over?
It’s not hell, but it’s damn near freezing over where I live. It might snow in the Tampa Bay area tonight for the first time in 32 years. I remember the last snowfall. We got to stay home from school. It was the first time I ever saw snow. It’s supposed to be back up in the 70s again this weekend though. Don’t hate me because I don’t need a parka.
Speaking of hell freezing over, a black dude with the middle name “Hussein” was sworn in as president of the United States today. Get the fuck out, y’all! I’ve been as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning all day. Now comes the hard part. How will you remember this day?
Nah nah nah nah! Nah nah nah nah! Hey hey hey! Good-bye!
I remember the first time I saw one of the these Bush countdown clock dealios. It was so depressing. There were 21,870 days. Or maybe it was 2,187. At any rate, long and depressing. How heartening to see a "0" now for days and watching the seconds tick down on this disastrous administration. Woohoo!
Why I enjoyed Bush's farewell address
I’ll never forget Bush’s first speech as president -- the inaugural address that brought a nightmarish conclusion to the 2000 recount clusterfuck. My daughter was two years old then, toddling around the living room in diapers as her dad and I, numb with horror and disbelief, watched Bush deliver the coup de grace to Election 2000.
Bush said something particularly offensive -- inappropriately injected religion into the speech or something -- and my two middle fingers rose of their own accord.
“Don’t do that,” Mr. Cracker admonished, gesturing toward the baby. “You won’t like it if she picks that up and flips off your mom.”
“I can’t help it,” I replied. “Bush just triggers this involuntary reflex, you know?”
And for the next eight years, he would continue to do so. It’s depressing to recall that even as angry, sad and sick with dread as we were while watching Bush’s first inaugural address, we had no idea what horrors the next eight years would unleash. No. Idea.
Last night, eight infinitely angrier, sadder and more dreadful years later, Bush addressed us for the last time as president, and of course, I involuntarily flipped the rotten bastard off multiple times. I thought about the fact that my now-fifth grader has never known a presidency that her parents didn’t hold in maximum contempt, does not remember a time when her country wasn’t bogged down in two wars and when the specter of terrorism wasn’t routinely wielded to sway elections, abridge essential liberties at home and commit heinous war crimes abroad. This shit is normal to her.
But despite the fact that national prosperity and national ruin form the bookends of Bush’s disastrous presidency, I enjoyed last night’s speech a whole lot more than his first. And not just because it was a farewell speech.
See, I have this vindictive streak about a mile wide, and it’s not enough for me that Bush is simply leaving. I want him to pay for what he’s done. I know he’ll never be held accountable in the way he deserves -- no trip to The Hague awaits. It pisses me off; however, I accept that reality. But goddamn it, I at least want him to know he’s a gigantic failure. But until last night, it appeared Bush would skate off into the sunset with his delusions intact, secure in the knowledge that history would vindicate him.
Last night, I saw something different -- a dawning realization in Bush. He was still offering the same lame excuses and self-puffery. He was still pretending that his only faults were to love America too much and to have such a gigantic set of balls that he didn’t fear to spurn popular opinion in favor of doing what he thought was right.
But last night, I could see that even he didn’t really believe that shit. And it all started to make sense. After all, swaggering bullies of that type typically offer such platitudes, but they don’t really believe them. The reason they become swaggering bullies in the first place is to provoke reactions in others that aggrandize themselves. They may see all the other inhabitants of the planet as bit players in the grand drama in which they star, but they desperately need that audience to fill the hollow place where a non-sociopath’s soul, conscience, etc., would reside.
During last night’s speech, despite the defensiveness and bravado, the mask slipped and exposed the small, petty failure that is George W. Bush. And he knows it. He knows the real reason his old man blubbers every time he gets near a microphone is shame. He knows the reason his brother Jeb won’t run for the senate in Florida is because of the infamy he, George W. Bush, has attached to their family name.
Of course, like any sociopath, Bush won’t own his part in the disaster he made; he is incapable of blaming himself and will believe himself ill-appreciated until the day he dies. But he can see that his audience -- all the insignificant not-George W. Bushes who form the population of earth and exist solely to provide foils and color to his personal drama -- are not impressed. And it troubles him. It looks like that will have to be enough.
[Cross-posted at Rumproast]
We’re gonna need a bigger boat
Jesus H. God, it appears Bank of America, the BoA that swallowed Merrill Lynch, needs an additional $100-$200 billion from the feds to wash it down. Hope they have enough ink.
Sanchez bitch-slaps Joe the Fascist clear to Lichtenstein
No comment
So Meghan McCain granted an interview to some blog and talked about how wonderful the campaign was and how proud she is to be the daughter of a failed Republican candidate and all. But when asked about Sarah Palin, here’s all she had to say:
“Sarah Palin is the only part of the campaign that I won’t comment on publicly.”F A S C I N A T I N G. There just has got to be some sort of juicy, embarrassing story behind this. Did Bristol impregnate Meghan’s beau? Did Dumptruck pull the fringe off a favorite Straight Talk Express throw pillow? Did Todd repeatedly leave the lid up on the RV toilet? Does Meghan blame Sarah for dashing her dream of becoming White House princess? Someone needs to spill the goddamned beans already.
[Cross-posted at Rumproast]
Socket & wrench
The pervasive meme emerging from the Blago-Burris affair is that Blago and Burris outwitted Reid, the Senate Dems and, to some extent, Obama himself. That was my original view of it too, inspired by my general opinion of Harry Reid, a man so thoroughly bereft of a spine that he makes a bucket of shucked oysters compare favorably to the cast of 300.
David Broder, the Dean Wormer of the Washington press corps, contends the only reason Obama hasn’t been squashed like a bug politically by Blago’s machinations is that the looming Great Depression Part Deux focuses folks’ minds elsewhere.
Politico says even if everyone else realizes there are more pressing matters, Senate Dems are furious with Reid, Durbin and Obama for being outmaneuvered by small fry like Blago and Burris. Even the most hard-boiled, cynical political analysts can’t help but allow a tone of unabashed admiration to creep into their voices when discussing the moxie and political acumen of Blago and Burris.
But is this really the proper conclusion to draw from how this has played out? Does the brain of a political genius lurk beneath Blago’s absurd ‘do? Is Burris a steely-eyed strategist who courageously faced down a formidable array of foes to claim his rightful prize?
I don’t think so. I think each is exactly what he appeared to be at the outset of this drama: Blago is a brazen, greedy sleazebag, and Burris is a shameless, self-aggrandizing opportunist. Neither has really won a damn thing worth having, and the supposed humiliation they perpetrated on their opponents will eventually be seen as the gift that it is.
How so? Well, let’s remember where we were when this all began to unfold. After prosecutor Fitzgerald busted Blago, political analysts on CNN, MSNBC and elsewhere spent days breathlessly wondering to what extent the Blago imbroglio would attach a whiff of corruption to Obama and the Dems on the national stage. Obama couldn’t hold a press conference on any topic without reporters trying to explore the Barack-Blago connection. Now, Blago has been established as the implacable enemy of Obama and the Senate Dems. And Blago is exactly the right sort of enemy to have.
Blago may think he’s stuck it to his enemies by making the appointment, but what does he really gain? He’s still going down one way or another, and now he’s provided cover for anyone who might be unfairly associated with him (Obama and Democrats in general) by demonstrating that he’s a rambling, loony, defiant dickhead. I’m pretty sure that’s not the outcome he intended.
As for Burris, like the vast majority of non-Illinoisans, I’d never heard of the guy before Blago thrust him onto the national stage. But he seems to be a glory hound who has hardly covered himself in glory during this episode, in which he displayed an unseemly eagerness to take any path to power. So he has another line to chisel on his creepy, King Tut-esque mausoleum. But he had to ally himself with a corrupt asshole engaged in extraordinarily cynical racial mau-mauing to land the gig.
I guess Burris thinks it’s worth it. But that doesn’t make it so, any more than George Bush’s belief that history will vindicate his spectacularly failed presidency makes it so. Unless Burris personally orchestrates Middle East peace or a way out of the economic shitpile, it’s hard to envision a scenario in which he doesn’t go down in history looking like, well, a socket, i.e., not even really a tool, merely the appendage of a tool.
In the end, I think Obama, Durbin and even the invertebrate Reid will emerge from this scrap looking a lot better than that pair of clowns. Opposing corrupt and egotistical creeps -- even unsuccessfully -- has a way of highlighting one’s virtues.
[Cross-posted at Rumproast]
Joe the Fascist
Quelle surprise -- the feeble-minded plunger jockey prefers good old fashioned propaganda to reportage.
H/T: Balloon Juice
[Cross-posted at Rumproast]
Go Gators
Identical twin offensive linemen for the Gators, Mike and Maurkice Pouncey.That's all I got, aside from this: I quit smoking this week, and if I can make it through Game Day, hell, I can make it through Armageddon!
King George IV
Addled, cry-baby old fart George H. W. Bush appeared on the family’s news network this weekend for a confab with Chris Wallace, during which he wished another scourge on a nation that has already suffered enough: a presidential term for his son “Jeb.” Even a deluded, Depends-dependent fool like GHWB realizes that the timing may be problematic:
I mean, right now is probably a bad time, because we've had enough Bushes in there.Bush the Elder totally misses the point: It’s not the number of Bushes so much as the epic level of incompetence the most recent just demonstrated, which by rights should doom anyone sharing that last name to a lifetime of political irrelevance. But I guess you can’t expect a father to recognize his son’s world-historical cretinism -- even if practically everyone else on the planet does.
As to Jeb’s personal merits, speaking as a Floridian who suffered though 8 years of Governor Jeb Bush and is currently surveying the ruination the piece of shit left in his wake, let me just say, “Fuck you, Poppy.” Chris Wallace is more polite, however, and wraps up the interview by inquiring after Bush the Elder’s thrill-seeking adventures:
WALLACE: Now, finally, when we talked about a year ago, I asked you if you planned to mark your 85th birthday the way you spent your 80th birthday, by jumping out of an airplane, and you said yes at that time. Is that still your goal?My initial thought upon hearing that was to hope the old fart’s parachute fails to deploy and that he goes out with a SPLAT. I know that’s mean. But to hear the doddering fucker wish another of his demented children on a wounded nation was just too much to bear with my compassion and respect for the elderly intact. However, I had to revise that wish upon learning that Papa Bush doesn’t jump alone:
G.H.W. BUSH: Still on, still on. It will be on June -- right around June 12th. As you can see, I'm hobbling down the hall with my cane. People say, "Look at this old idiot." They think he's going to go out and make a parachute jump. I am.
I [parachute] with the -- in this instance, with the Golden Knights. All the services have good parachute teams, but I've jumped with the Golden Knights, and we've told them we want to do this, and they said they're game.Does it? I know plenty of old people who do interesting, exciting things -- on their own -- but it doesn’t sound like Bush Senior’s parachute adventure requires much active participation on his part. The Golden Knight might as well be jumping with an arthritic sack of potatoes. Maybe Bush should demonstrate his machismo with an activity he can actually perform?
And you're in the arms of a great big strong guy. People say, "What about your old hip, your old body?" He does all the work. He opens the chute. You float majestically down to Earth after the chute is open.
And then as you go to land, he says -- and you hear him easy -- "Pick up your feet. Pick them up." And I'm in his arms, and my feet up, and he lands with his feet down on the ground and walk -- we both walk away. So there's no... There's no jarring or anything like that.
WALLACE: Well, I have to ask you the same question, though, finally, that I asked you a year ago. Why?
G.H.W. BUSH: Well, the same answer I gave you. One, just because you're an old guy, you don't need to sit around sucking your thumb drooling in the corner. …It brings out the fact that old people can still do interesting things, scary things, exciting things.
And I wonder how many hundreds of thousands of taxpayer dollars are squandered helping Bush the Elder and other members of the Dead Pecker Club get their jollies by jumping out of planes and such? Probably enough to pay for advanced prosthetics for a few of the soldiers maimed in Sonny Boy’s unnecessary war. Clueless bastards. May they howl in the political wilderness for 500 generations.
[Cross-posted at Rumproast]
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