Thanks, But No Thanks.

What's that? Would I care to chip in a couple extra thousand dollars so that the taxpayers can buy up the bad debt in the financial market Crap-a-thon? You say it would work out to roughly $4000 per taxpayer, is all?

No thanks: I already gave at the office:

Hey... That Looks Familiar.

Some call it laziness. I call it Green Web Comics -- see how I recycle the content? And even the text is made from biodegradable soy-based pixels.

Hey. You don't judge me.

Mmm... That's Good Accountability...

So the same geniuses who fought and scratched and mocked and bludgeoned their way to completely deregulating the banking and investment industries have now given us... well, maybe the single biggest self-inflicted ass-rape of all time. But not to worry, because... look! In the sky! It's SUPER AMERICAN TAXPAYER!

Hey! Anyone for some more upper-class and corporate tax cuts, while we're at it?

Ahhh... The Colors Of Fall...

The season when everyone breaks out their finest collegiate colors, even the ones that make them look like radioactive pumpkins. Well... the splattered guts of radioactive pumpkins.

Yuck.

Only If You Jump Without A Parachute.

So, yeah. Wall Street. Too big to fail, and now the latest bailout is going to come in to the tune of close to a trillion bucks. But it's okay -- we got rid of those pesky requirements that there be some kind of transparent bookkeeping... or corporate accountability... or, Heaven Forbid, a cap on executive salaries. So, while you and me are footing the bill on our salaries, there will be no cap on the salaries or Golden Parachutes for those who ran the sector into the toilet and now get to bail.

I say we offer them all Golden Showers, instead. And lots and lots of cockpunching, of course.

Dear Heisman Voters (#2):

It's A "Post" About "Politics."

First, John McCain admitted that he wasn't an expert on economics. Fair enough. But after saying some dumb things about economics, he was pressed on that admission, which he then denied. Vehemently.

And yet, every quotation from his piehole is like a footnote to that earlier one. So he'll be concentrating on foreign policy. As long as he can figure out where Spain is, that is...

AAAAAAAAAAAGH MY LEGS!

OK, so explain this to me: birds are basically dinosaurs that still walk (and fly) the earth, they're chock-full of disease, they're single-minded eating and shitting machines... and then we sit down at our nice patio tables and toss them bits of bread... encouraging them... letting them get closer...

Hey. We were practically begging for it. Just tuppence a bag. And your flesh.

Sarah Palin Week, Part 5

Sarah Palin Week, Part 4

Sarah Palin Week, Part 3

Rick Wright, RIP.

Rick Wright, keyboardist for Pink Floyd, died. That totally blows. He survived the Syd Barret insanity, the commercial highs of Wish You Were Here - Dark Side of the Moon - The Wall, got fired and had to play on contract for The Wall tour, and came back after Roger Waters' ugly split from the band. And in the middle of that, he wrote my single favorite Floyd tune, "The Great Gig in the Sky," from Dark Side. This is the live version from Versailles, 1988.

Sarah Palin Week, Part 2

Welcome To Sarah Palin Week!

C'mon, Sarah. Bring that shit on. Thinks she's the one that killed the "Bridge to Nowhere"? Thinks it's reasonable to pursue the banning of books from libraries based on her own personal squeamishness, and then seeks to fire the librarian who won't make it happen? Thinks she's a more knowledgable person about the facts of life than, oh, geneticists, OB-GYNs, teachers? Thinks she's a fucking poster girl for friends of special needs children while she fights tooth and nail against the research that could make their lives bearable? Lady, I would shred you in an in-person debate while drunk and blindfolded; I hope Joe Biden leaves no evidence you were ever there.



So. Where was I? Oh, yeah: Welcome to Sarah Palin Week!

Bonus Weekend Post for Hannah Rushmore!

Let Us Pray.

I'm not going to lie. I'm pretty friggin' smart. Megan told me so.

I'm also not going to lie when I tell you I have no idea what the shit is going on in Georgia (the sub-Russian one, not the one where I grew up, although that one often confuses me as well) -- after the beat-down last month, they seem to be turning to a Teletubby-based religion.

Dude, I'm just going by what I read. Or rather, what I see in fun, out-of-context pictures.

Ewww... Revisited...

Hey, looks like the Chinese managed to clean up all their waterways in record time in order to accomodate the Olympic aquatic events. I wonder where they put it all?

When in doubt? Outsource to India.

Get Used To It.

Every day, nay, even more often, I read stupid shit from barely-evolved dipshits that makes my political convictions, particularly vis-a-vis the upcoming Presidential election, clearer and firmer. Like transparent aluminum. That's how firm and clear things are.

Naturally, I'll share more as we get closer, and all six of you will no doubt be swayed by my dazzling rhetoric, well-thought-out logic, and pretty pictures. Plus my vulgarity -- never underestimate the power of my vulgarity.

Why is Sarah Palin on the ticket? Because she's in favor of drilling anything that will stand still longer than 2 seconds, and because she's hot. End of story. Now, on to more substantive issues, John.

Got any? Didn't think so.

[Insert Sound Of Open-Mouthed Awestruck Silence]

They're about to start firing up the Super Hadron Collider at CERN, somewhere under the French-Swiss border. Blah, blah, blah -- this thing is amazingly cool, has a perimeter tunnel of 17 miles, and is gonna either blow shit up real good in a controlled environment... or an uncontrolled environment.

Either way.

Cool...

Dear Heisman Voters:

I'm just saying: let's start the consideration.

In Dick Morris' Defense... He *Is* A Dick.

Maybe my most favoritest Daily Show moment in memory. Sometimes, when the ducks line up just right... and they stand so very still... and you and your shotgun are so very close...

Dude, That Don't Make No Sense.

Phenomenal food and music and culture and nightlife and geography and living history, all just 90 miles away from us. Not that we can legally go visit there. Why? I'd love for some dipshit to explain it to me sometime.

In the meantime, our travel boycott has made all the difference in the world in their lives. No, really. That's my serious look. Pfffff.

Ewww.

Yeah, yeah, I know. You come here expecting a certain elevated level of crudity, and sometimes what you get instead are vulgar pedophilia jokes involving the Catholic Church.

Well, to be fair:

1. If you look closely, you can see that the priest is actually Russian Orthodox.

2. You knew how you were dressed when you came to this party. Don't act like you didn't want it.

Don't Worry, The Nasty War Is Over.

If you're wondering why we're so easily able to concentrate on our smashingly-successful war in Iraq, even though all the bad guys ran directly into Afghanistan and stayed there? Don't worry. Big John McCain says that war is over. Pay no attention to the men behind the rocks...

Excuse Me, But What The Fuck?

Jerry Reed died today. Multi-Grammy winning songwriter and *absolutely phenomenal* musician, he was also one of my all-time favorite movie characters, Cledus "Snowman" Snow, the truck-driving sidekick to Burt Reynolds' Bandit. A recent group re-watching of "Smokey and the Bandit" was awesome, as was learning and playing "Westbound and Down" with friends.

Later on, good buddy.

Hey, Remember That Drought?

Yeah, me neither.

oy...