I first heard the lame Liberal rationale for voting against their values and interests — “holding my nose” — during the infamous “election” of 2000. In the decade or so since then, my reaction to that gutless cop-out has gone from outrage to annoyance to mild amusement to hysterics.
In every instance, my question — still awaiting an answer — has always been the same: how much longer are you going to sit still for the Democratic Party’s abuse? What are you going to do when the stench gets so bad that holding your nose doesn’t work?
The brain-dead philosophy of Liberal America — “holding your nose” and voting for “the lesser evil” — has yielded absolute zero in terms of any benefits. In fact, Liberals’ continued insistence on voting against their interests pretty much fits the classic definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
So, you can imagine my shock and chagrin when I saw this recent article by Sam Smith — normally a bastion of sanity and clear, independent thought — advocating an “Obama One Night Stand” Movement, published at his Progressive Review. I didn’t know whether to laugh until I pissed myself, or to go lay down on a railroad track.
If you insist on reading Sam’s statement of capitulation to lesser-evilism, I strongly urge you to remove any cups of coffee or sleeping cats from the vicinity of your keyboard — and if you’ve just taken a sip of coffee, swallow it immediately. You’ve been warned.
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A couple of weeks ago, my comrade Isis hipped me to this pants-pissing hilarious article in Wonkette about this absurdly overwrought portrait by David Bugnon, glorifying recently-deceased rightist “journalist” Andrew Breitbart as a Nordic knight. Posters and postcards of this hysterical tribute were available for purchase at Patriot Depot, your one-stop shop for all your right-wing drama-queen kitsch needs, for the bargain price of $3999.95. (Such a deal! I’ll take two!)
Now, those of you who know me and my work know that there was no way in hell I could ever resist parodying this great heaping sloppy slab of fanboy bilge.
UPDATE: Confirming my suspicions — along with those of Photoshop artists and computer gamers everywhere — it’s been revealed in a subsequent Wonkette report that the aforementioned glorifying painting was, in fact, a third-rate Photoshop mashup composed of an “official” portrait of Little Andrew, the knight from the computer game Assassin’s Creed, and a stock photo of a glowing, leaden sky. This, of course, pushed the whole story from the absurd over the edge into the gloriously batshit.
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Yesterday morning at Lafayette Square across from the White House, David Bronner, president of Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soaps, locked himself into a cage in a civil disobedience protest against US policies on the cultivation of industrial-grade hemp for use in food and fibers.
Bronner notes that the US is the biggest market on Earth for industrial hemp products, and yet US farmers are cut out of the market; as a result, his company is forced to buy hemp oil from Canadian outfits to the tune of $100,000 per year. Bronner also pointed out the hypocrisy of the Obama government in that as an Illinois state senator, Obama voted twice in support of industrial hemp cultivation, but as El Presidente, he has actively interfered in the rights of states to legalize the growing of industrial hemp, including his refusal to to meet with a delegation from North Dakota, whose government — from the Governor on down — has signaled its wishes to allow its farmers to cultivate industrial hemp.
From about 8am until the DC Fire Department arrived to cut the locks and bolts holding the cage closed, Bronner harvested some of the half-dozen or so industrial-grade hemp plants he had on hand — at .06% THC, smoking it would give you nothing but a headache — sifted the seeds, and used them to demonstrate a hand-cranked seed-oil press.
(Note: Owing to currently-insoluble issues with Vimeo’s new uploading system, I’m forced to revert back to YouTube for the foreseeable future… and yeah, it kinda sucks. Apologies.)
The Abyss
I had this flash of inspiration from a post by my comrade Owen Paine, who writes for Stop Me Before I Vote Again, where he quips in his trademark beat poetic fashion:
yes the ever more empty “fatal center”
where all hope plunges down and down toward citizen despair
and corporate joy
If you’re like me, you’ve heard the blabbing heads on TV mention the Democrats “reaching across the aisle” and “moving to the center” so goddamn’ many times it makes you want to put your head through a plate-glass window.
If you’re also like me, you do a massive facepalm every time the Democrats attempt another ill-advised and entirely lame “reach across the aisle” and end up being screwed, blued and tattooed by the GOP yet again. You’d think by now the Dems would have learned something about how “the Center” is a great bottomless time and energy-sucking maw of Hell, but apparently they have the learning capacity of a housefly — and if you know anything about houseflies, you know that’s damn’ near absolute zero.
With that in mind, I present the Democratic Party attempting to “move to the center” and “reach across the aisle” and having what I call a Wile E. Coyote Moment. You know how, in those old cartoons, the coyote is chasing the road runner across the top of a mesa, and the road runner — traveling at near supersonic speed — rockets effortlessly over the edge and across the gap to the top of the neighboring mesa while the coyote, recklessly following him, gets about halfway across and suddenly realizes he’s way the hell out there in the air all by himself, and right in that moment he thinks to himself “what the fuck am I…” just before he begins that long fall? Well, kind of like that.
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