Statue of Liberty

I blame the Belgians . . .

. . . for tonight's drunkenness

Scene of Monday's Crime

On the Monster . . . Lance Armstrong

I don't care about Lance Armstrong, doped up or not, or that fat fuck, Obama-fawning huckster Oprah, who spends her time raising people like Armstrong up before us like they are gods. She's more reprehensible than him and will spend time in Hell interviewing super thin versions of the self she could never be. I don't think it matters that he so-called "doped" to win races. If he hadn't taken whatever it is he took, I still think he would have beat the crap out of those Euroweenies in their silly shorts. All I know about biking is that those bastards get in my way when I'm driving to work and if I could, I'd run them off Rock Creek Bridge. Now, Armstrong is a freak machine with or without enhancers. Oh, he lied. Shocker! The whole fucking sport is a lie designed to sell bikes at car prices. It's a dirty sport and has been since its inception. Armstrong is a liar and a prick because he cheated on his wife, betrayed his daughters and took up with that whore and environmental nutjob Sheryl Crow. That is more disturbing and damning to me than using thinners after riding 100 miles sucking in fecal dust from French goats. Yes, he lost half his nutsack and that's gotta be traumatic and he survived that because, that's right, he's a crazy extreme nutjob and he inspired a lot of people to kick cancer's ass as if they were extreme athletes. They also used deadly cocktails of drugs to do it, too. How fucking ironic?! (Put aside the possibility that his cancer was caused by his doping). So, he gets points for that. There's nothing natural about extreme sports anyway. I do not believe there is such a thing as "natural state" competition among extreme athletes. They are outliers and if they want to get further out there, dope away dickwads, dope away. I'm still not buying your special fucking Oakley wraps. Every single one of them is an egomaniacal narcissist prick who'd drain your blood and bottle it if they found out it had magical properties. They're vampires in our culture. Vampires lie, they suck out your essentials, and then they leave you empty. Lance Armstrong is a fucking vampire. Now he's been exposed and we're supposed to forgive him. Well, I wasn't fooled to begin with and I didn't invite that vampire into my house. Armstrong can take his wrist bracelet and suck it.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

The Small Things

Ten Days Out

Stay at War

Dear Diary:

Woke up in a foul mood today because a wretched lying narcissist is still going to be "leading" the government for the next four years.  Foul because more than half my "fellow" Americans are really my enemy for putting him there again.  An extreme assessment perhaps, but I don't know how else to describe people who have abandoned, if not work to destroy on an hourly basis, the Constitution of the United States.  Listen you pantywaisted candy asses - I'm not part of one big American Family, that rises and falls together.  You're not my family and Barack is not our father, you sick twisted adolescents.  Grow the fuck up.  The catalog of crimes is out there, thoroughly documented, so no reason to get it into here.  You ignore it like a teenager ignores the overflowing kitchen garbage can.  

Seeing as the New Year is just around the corner, it's not too soon to put together some preliminary New Year's resolutions.

1. Stop eating Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream.  Of course, Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream is just one of any number of corporate brands that soft serve the enemy.  Substitute your enemy brand of choice.  Whatever.  I'm not buying their shit anymore.  I'm not buying their services.  So, "Brand X", I will make a concerted effort to avoid your crap.   Maybe I'll lose some weight in the process.  Bonus!  My cool factor will drop further into negative territory, though.

2. I will tell my Obama-supporting neighbors to go fuck themselves.  Want to borrow my ladder?  Go fuck yourself.  Want me to come to your "Winter Holiday" cocktail party, go fuck your merry-self.  I'm not associating with you.  You're a dangerous threat to the country and I will work to destroy you and your ideas.  Now fuck off but not before getting the fuck off my lawn, you little commie symps.  And no, your kid can't use my basketball hoop.

3. Being the political black sheep in the family necessarily means that mom and siblings - all moronic Hopesters - can also go fuck themselves.  Sister One needs me to move her air conditioner from her window before winter arrives?  Sister, winter is no longer coming; it's here.  So Sis, go fuck yourself.  Call the EPA.  Or better yet, hire someone who's been unemployed for 99 weeks to take it out of the window.  Mom wants me to help her with moving some boxes of holiday decor downstairs?  Hey Mom, go fuck yourself.  Hire a small holiday house decorating company to do it, after all, your Savior is such a champion of small business.  TANSTAAFL!  Oh, you want to spend Thanksgiving together?  No, stuff that turkey up your ass.  Not this year.  I won't sit at the same table with you while you form an "O" with your hands and thank CTHULHU for widening the fissure sucking this country into Hell.

4. Ridicule the President and his minions on a daily basis.  Catalog their crimes.  Teach them to my kids.  Expose the lies, duplicity and danger.  In other words, turn family dinners into a scary hour where Dad rants about the national poltergeists haunting his psyche.  Pass the salt, kids, and finish up those 20 oz sodas.

5. Blame all household austerity on Obama, leftists, the neighbors and grandma.   Sorry Junior, you're not getting that iPhone 5, because, one, you're a damn kid and shouldn't have expensive high tech devices without earning the money working in some soulless fabric covered square for a few years, and two, Obama took the money I would have used to buy it out of guilt because of the horrible peer pressure you face and gave it to our neighbors so they could get free contraceptives for their teenage daughters.  You want the money back, go bang their daughters.  In this way, we build quiet outrage around confiscatory taxes.

6. Add to arsenal.  "Nuff said on that, but I suggest you stay the fuck away from my house if you're my neighbor, a leftist or grandma.

7. Live in opposition to everything and everyone.  Be quiet about it or loud.  Mix it up.  Stay at war.

Imagine this was your morning . . .

Memorial Day

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Desire

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Patience

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Bird

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Dinner

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Ramble

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Today

Oh, for fuck's sake . . .

May 1 - Victims of Communism Day

Because in some quarters of the world today is International Workers' Day, in other quarters it is Victims of Communism Remembrance Day.  You are either in one camp or the other.  No "buts"' allowed today.

And I'm not going to insert any of the symbols or propaganda of socialism or communism in this space today.

No Red Stars.

No hammers and sickles.

No giant red flags.

No pop art posters showing square jawed, buzz cut commies looking forward into the future while standing on the necks of running dogs and wreckers.

No pictures of Obama.

Useful idiots this very second are making ready with all of that crap to march in capitals around the world hailing socialism's triumphs.  And yeah, socialism, communism, whatever.

You fuckers march on the bones of more than 100 million victims to your religion.

We aren't forgetting them.  We aren't forgiving you.

Finder's Keepers

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National Cleaver Day

We love to celebrate cleavers.  Here's one beauty.

And look at this set! Hubba hubba!

Wait.  What?

Say that again.

Oh.  Never mind.

Audacious?

Hey, Joe, you want audacious, here's audacious . . .

Harumph!

Our Energy Future

Grand Central

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Rubber

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Happy New Year!

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Merry Christmas!

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Well, of course!

It's December 23rd, so of course the Valentines Day candy must be put out at the local CVS. Really? No kisses for you.

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Ben's Busy, Busy

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Always Will We Remember

To the Congress of the United States

Yesterday, Dec. 7, 1941 - a date which will live in infamy - the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with the government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific.

Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleagues delivered to the Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. While this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or armed attack.

It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.

The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. Very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.

Yesterday, the Japanese government also launched an attack against Malaya.

Last night, Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong.

Last night, Japanese forces attacked Guam.

Last night, Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands.

Last night, the Japanese attacked Wake Island.

This morning, the Japanese attacked Midway Island.

Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation.

As commander in chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense.

Always will we remember the character of the onslaught against us.

No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.

I believe I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again.

Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger.

With confidence in our armed forces - with the unbounding determination of our people - we will gain the inevitable triumph - so help us God.

I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, Dec. 7, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire.

President Franklin Roosevelt

Happy Birthday, Mr. Churchill!

Done

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Almost Done

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Some Advice to OWS

A brief message to the rapists, puppetry artists, and lice groomers occupying various public spaces across our great land:

It is bad policy to represent a political system as having no charm but for robbers and assassins, and no natural origin but in the brains of fools and madmen, when experience has proved that the great danger of the system consists in the peculiar fascination it is calculated to exert on noble and imaginative spirits; on all those who, in the amiable intoxication of youthful benevolence, are apt to mistake their own best virtues and choicest powers for the average qualities and attributes of the human character.

-- Samuel Taylor Coleridge to Edmund Burke, as quoted in Political Thought of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Reginald James White, 1938.

OK, that's all.  You may return to your raping, puppetry and nit picking, you sorry sons of bitches.

Tasboy

No, I haven't been to Tasmania and I'm not that big of an asshole that I think drinking the Sam Adams Tasman Red gives me any fucking clue what the difference between a Tasmanian and an Australian and a New Zealander is other than several hundred miles of unforgiving ocean and an accent that chicks dig. 6.75 ABV ain't enough to make me start speaking like that fraud voiceover actor who handles those Outback Steakhouse commercials. But I'm alone in the den anyway so my chick ain't here to impress. So I got nothing but a pint of New Zealand hops masterfully rendered into a "Red IPA" whatever that means. Inspired by Marx, Lenin? There's too much caramel to be referring to its color. And everything's about politics these days. Fucking commies. Well, it is a Massachusetts brewery. Anyway, the label alleges this and that about malts and hops, all of which promise to be "bold, lively, and a bit rugged." Presumably, that describes your average Tasmanian. Santa Claus was hired for the label art. That, or some kind of Tasmanian prospector. (Jesus, but some people get paid for some real bullshit). This pint's head is bushier than that old coot's whiskers. So I'm five eighths of the way through Batch no. 1 of what Sam Adams describes as a limited edition brew. Well, I say, why limit yourself, Sam? Be bold, be lively, be a bit rugged. Be a fucking Tasmanian and add this bearded pinko swill to your regular stable of beers. If you have to, drop that nasty Cherry Wheat cough syrup. If I want cherries, I'll have some goddamned pie. Recommendation: go buy some. Sent from my iPhone

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He did like the sun

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Waiting - Hospital Coffee Bar

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10%

Oskar Blues Gubna Imperial IPA

When you need to get there fast, pull the tab on this hop monster. 10% abv. One can puts you in the can. The color of urine left unflushed in an office urinal late on a Friday. Gold with a cloudy cast. Smell? Like beer, of course, but actually malty. Despite hop profile, you'll still be able to feel the early Fall cool air on your tongue as you lay mouth agape in a stupor on the bird shit stained couch on your deck. A good beer to share with a friend. But you don't have any friends, which is why you're drunk on Oskar Blues alone on your deck on a Friday night. You want a session beer? Get some fucking friends and go to a bar. Otherwise, hit your deck alone with a quad of Gubnas and let the squeak of flying squirrels occupy your thoughts. Gubnight. Sent from my iPhone

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National Coffee Day

Finally, a made up national holiday I can get behind.

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Monday

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September 12, 20XX

This day matters, too. What do we do today that ensures no more yesterdays?

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Condensed Explanation of DOJ Raid on Gibson Guitars

Hedge

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Wannabe

Stumbleupon: John Huntsman Dialing for Dollars at Biltmore Hotel, Florida

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Stranger in My View

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Fort Jefferson - Dry Tortugas

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Bahia Honda Rest Room

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Slow Carbed

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Untitled

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Hot Time, Summer in the City

Back of my neck getting burnt and gritty

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Thus spake Zarathustra

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Grand Rapidans Not Down, Not Out

Boy, do I love this country . . .

http://hotair.com/archives/2011/06/01/video-the-greatest-music-video-ever/

Memorial Day

Thank you. We will never forget the sacrifice. We will always remember the life you have given our nation.

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Friday the 13th Haiku

Calendar bullshit

Luck is a bi-atch today

Thirteen beers will help

Evening Walk

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Dinner - 16 Mile Ale

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A Note on the Commie Holiday

In celebration of Earth Day, it behooves us to quote one of this country's greatest conservationists:

"What is a conservative after all but one who conserves, one who is committed to protecting and holding close the things by which we live... And we want to protect and conserve the land on which we live -- our countryside, our rivers and mountains, our plains and meadows and forests.  This is our patrimony.  This is what we leave to our children.  And our great moral responsibility is to leave it to them either as we found it or better than we found it."

Remarks at dedication of National Geographic Society new headquarters building, June 19, 1984

And this:

"If we've learned any lessons during the past few decades, perhaps the most important is that preservation of our environment is not a partisan challenge; it's common sense. Our physical health, our social happiness, and our economic well-being will be sustained only by all of us working in partnership as thoughtful, effective stewards of our natural resources."

Remarks on signing annual report of Council on Environmental Quality, July 11, 1984

That's right:  President Ronald Reagan

H/T: Republicans for Environmental Protection (they seem like a false flag operation to me, but hey, thanks for the quotes)

Grocery Shopping

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Dawn

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Dinner

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Respite

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It Burns!

Perhaps not the best e-mail to send around on Shutdown Friday:

Attached is guidance issued by the U.S. Office of Special Counsel this week as a result of President Obama’s officially declaring his candidacy for reelection.  The guidance is a reminder that because the President is now a declared candidate, the Hatch Act prohibits federal employees from displaying his picture in the federal workplace unless (1) the image is an official photograph such as the photos of the President and Vice President that traditionally hang in government offices; or (2) the photo is a personal photo of the employee with the President at a non-political event that was already displayed in the employee’s office prior to the President’s declaration of his candidacy.

The Office of Special Counsel advises that employees should take down images of the President that they may have posted in their workspaces that do not meet either of these criteria, and, while on official duty or in the Federal workspace, should refrain from wearing buttons, lanyards, t-shirts and other apparel, and from displaying campaign posters, bumper stickers or buttons in their offices that include an image of the President or that are otherwise directed toward the success or failure of his candidacy.

Fool's Day

You think it’s around 7 am when you become conscious this morning, but you're dead to the world.  Can’t move or open your eyes.  Brain gearing up, but angry.  Didn‘t go to sleep until 3 am because of the spectacle of police activity beyond the property line.  You can't see it yet but you know the room is bathed in a gray light of a gray rainy morning.  It won't be helping you wake.  You hear one of the kids creeping around the room.  You hear some kind of tapping on your nightstand.  A strange squishy sound.  But you're dead to the world and can’t open your eyes.  You hear doors closing.  You hear giggling.  But you're dead to the world.  Fully conscious that there’s movement in the room, but you can’t move or open your eyes.  You fall back into deep sleep, probably only for a minute, before your daughter jumps on the bed and demands you turn on the TV.  You manage a grunt. You turn your head to face the night stand, break the gummy seal on your eyelids and reach your hand for the remote control.  You hesitate because it’s covered in marshmallows.  You're a sightless bat so you reach for your glasses, your eyes, but they are covered with marshmallows, too.  You blink a few times, lubricating the orbs, enough to determine it is not marshmallows.  Maybe Peeps?  Peeps are pink or green, though.  Are Peeps white?  The smell hits your nose, soap.  No, not soap.  There’s a tang to the odor.  Shaving cream.  Barbisol Beard Buster Thick and Rich, to be precise.  Your brain awakens and cements the fact:  the remote and your glasses - your eyes! - are encapsulated in Barbisol Bear Buster Thick and Rich shaving cream.  And, yes, you fool, it’s April Fool’s Day.  The brain hears giggling and there’s mirthful bouncing on the bed.  But your brain is a deep, nasty lair for an angry demon.  The demon rises fast, but he can’t see because his eyes need a shave.  And now’s he’s pissed and yelling as he attempts to waken and he’s without reason and without humor and without love.  A towel is demanded and the glasses are handed over for immediate cleansing and there’s a lecture about never, ever touching someone's glasses because They Are My Eyes.  And we don’t own the remote, only rent it from the cable company and it can’t get broken or wet, otherwise we will have to Manually Change the Channel on the TV!  Do you understand, little girl!   The lines that cannot be crossed are referenced.  The rules of funny are invoked.  And then there are tears and doors slamming.  You're finally fully awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, squeaky clean glasses on your face and a degreased TV remote in your hand, but the buffers and firewalls and malware programs have been booted too late and the demon virus has ruined a little girl’s day. 

I am a goddamned fool.