Madness!?!

Dear Friends,

What is going on in my nation? Have we lost our minds? In the states of Ohio and Virginia, it has been resolved that women who wish for or require abortions must now submit to vaginal probes for ultrasound against their will. By federal law, this procedure is deemed to be rape. The conservatives reckon that’s okay ‘cuz the woman forced to be probed has already had her vagina probed by some other fellah and it don’t much matter that a doctor is sworn to first do no harm, such as poking a lady with a vibrating thing-a-ma-jig in a medically unnecessary procedure to provide her with “information” that she already knows, that she is pregnant, and may cause harm to her uterus.

Oh, then there is the movement to deny women of contraceptives under any circumstances, whether they be used for hormonal treatment of cancer or birth control. Rape is okay. Incest is just dandy. But, we must not let women take progesterone

Well, of course, the folks promoting this legislation don’t know how to spell progesterone and are not women. In fact, they barely even have testicles. They do have a series of wives in many cases, some abandoned as they lie in a hospital bed dying of cancer (hello, Newt), yet they are not permitted the medication that would prevent the birth of a half dozen kids who would not be cared for by the creep that left his wife (the first of two, so far, Newt) to die from a terminal illness.

Okay, okay… let me slow down here. I don’t want to lose you. Arizona’s legislature is now proposing to outlaw the word gay in public schools. Good idea. Our kids will no longer have to listen to that miserable song by that Jew bastard Bernstein as sung by the whore Natalie Wood in “West Side Story.” Even better, we can throw out all the books with the word “gay”. Less books is good, ain’t it Bubba! I suppose this will also eliminate the dictionary, or at least page 164 of the OED, if you idiots know what that is.

Then there’s the thing with no contraception, again. Wait a minute. More extra marital and unwanted pregnancies? More babies with no food nor safe home? So, they’s supposed to git knocked up by Dad or the boy down the alley in the trailer park, have a baby and go on the dole. Yeah. That’ll work. Serves them girls right for having vaginas. Otherwise G-d would not have made vaginas to splurt out babies for rich white guys to support with their hard earned dollars garnered from dispossessing poor folk of their homes and jobs whilst getting us into yet another war paid for by the future taxes of their newly born children who can’t find jobs.

Oh, did I mention the proposal in the Oregon State Legislature allowing teenagers to carry concealed weapons into their public schools? Yes, this great idea is seen as a deterrent to the now too frequent shoot-em-ups by the young’uns blasting away at their teachers and class mates. Just brilliant! Let’s make everybody safe by having the least socialized and least mature beasts of our kind armed when they go into their civics class. What sort of person would want the job of being a teacher knowing that if he hands out a D- grade on that essay about Ben Franklin, that he and a number of his students would end up in the morgue? I know! It would be Mr. Eldinkoomph, the weird guy that plays the organ at church on Sunday and treats his favorite students to soda and cake at his trailer after school.

Well, finally, we come to Rush Limbo. Poor guy. His best explanation of why he is not anti-women is that he was a judge at the Miss America Pageant. He got paid to watch a bunch of busty ladies in skimpy swim suits play the violin and testify that they were in favor of equality for all Humankind. Who is the whore? Of course, not he. He skidded off the dais to go on a sex tourism mission to find the embrace of a young transexual in an impoverished South American nation relentlessly seeking hard cash and exporting cocaine.

Now, let’s imagine an alternative world, not one full of punks bent on ruining the lives of their spouses, their less well off friends (if they have any friends), and having secret thrills with boys with boobs while smashed on Oxys and coke. A guy that looks and talks like Morgan Freeman is President of the Galactic Federation. A fellow with a weird name from a place in what used to be called the Bronx in a nation that once prospered and was called The United States of America; his name is Neil deGrasse Tyson, and he is The Minister of Science and Universal Understanding. Women are respected in all meaningful ways. They are not on pedestals nor subjugated. Men know their place and their obligations as the ones that can open jars and can change the kid’s diapers. They might even learn to cook something more than salami and scrambled eggs.

Yeah. Maybe, someday pigs will fly, and we won’t have to put up with annoyances like Limbaugh. Someday, perhaps, people will be free to love who they love. We might no longer fight stupid wars over oil and water. Our civilization, so called, might be nourished by the rain of photons pouring over us from our Mother Sun. We can all get fed. We shall look to the stars as destinations, not mere glimmers in the arch of heaven. Let’s go. Let’s go. Get on with it!

Res Ipsa Loquitor,

S

The Continuing Crisis in America Politics…

Dear Friends,

It was with sadness that today the Republican National Committee announced an unprecedented shake up in the race toward the nomination of their Presidential candidate. This comes with the demise of the leader of the PAC and the astonishing disappearance of one fellow contender and the apparently self-inflicted seclusion of another.

The body of former Governor Mitt Romney was discovered in a trench roadside of Interstate Highway 580, just outside of Reno, Nevada nearby the popular Mustang Ranch & Bordello. His 2011 Chevy Suburban was upended and aflame, and the corpse was found some few yards away from the wreck. Nevada State Troopers reporting to the scene discovered the candidate apparently deceased, and his abdomen torn open. Subsequent examination by the Coroner’s Office revealed that his liver had gone missing. However, his hair was perfect.

At the time of the tragic wreck, neighbors in a trailer park adjacent to the scene of the suspicious incident made several and repeated calls to 911 reporting the sound of a collision and reported seeing a Cadillac Escalade or similar vehicle piloted by an unknown driver fleeing the scene. It appeared to have contained, in addition to the male driver, as many as a dozen occupants including a woman and perhaps ten or more children. The vehicle bore no license plates but did sport a Santorum for President in 2012 bumper sticker.

Meanwhile, a Mrs. Petunia Philomathia of Lot 114 Dusty Meadows Park independently made several calls pleading for help from the Washoe County Regional Animal Control Unit. She reported seeing a very large, black, bat-like creature with a human-like head crested in white as it was hovering over the horizon at what would have been the scene of the fatality involving candidate Romney. In her account, the flying beast was carrying in its jaws what appeared to be the entrails of prey. Following repeatedly being told by authorities to sleep it off, the calls ended with one final sobbing plea. We have sought Mrs. Philomathia out for comment, but found her trailer home abandoned. Police are now investigating her disappearance.

Today, we learn that Romney is dead, large pieces of his viscera gone missing, Rick Santorum and his family of twelve have disappeared, although they have been reportedly spotted by security cameras at the Laogog International Airport Ice Cream Bar. Newt Gingrich is refusing to take calls from the press. He is said by his aides to be recuperating from an intestinal disorder arising from the over-consumption of fatty organ meats, but is expected back on the campaign trail on Halloween Night for a vampire-theme gala fundraiser.

So, where does this leave the Republican Party? Ron Paul is sidelined with loose dentures, Irritable Bowel Syndrome and latent, blithering craziness. Donald Trump threatens to throw his hat into the ring, but is said to be demanding a better hair cut, all the atom bombs up front, and seventy-six virgins, all blonde, upon sealing the deal. The Republicans are having a tough time finding even one virgin in the party above majority age. The Donald has responded that he is willing to accept anything they got in terms of virgins. Thus negotiations continue in the face of a possible brokered convention. The front runner, according to Carl Rove, is an unnamed, corpulent, misogynist, homophobic racist with an expected lifespan of about three months after a supposed election before he succumbs to exploding heart disease or a near fatal stroke that sends him into dementia and possibly launching nukes at Grand Luxembourg.

In a related story, Rush Limbaugh is now facing arrest in Papua, New Guinea, having been apprehended for the abduction of a fourteen year old transexual and subsequent hostage taking at the famed House of Fun By The Beach. He is said to be barricaded with the boy, or girl, whatever, inside his bungalow and heavily armed, massively stoned on Oxycodone®, and threatening to fire his sponsors if they don’t agree with him about every rancid, nutty thought that crosses his fevered mind. Local police continue to negotiate with him, offering more and stronger drugs if he’ll just get off the radio and shut up.

We will bring you further developments as the come in.

Res Ipsa Loquitor,

S

As to the February 23rd Republican blabberfest, er, primary debate… to a man, those pompous idiots seemed deeply insecure in their own masculinity, afraid of women, black and brown people of either sex, and cowards in the face of love. It's difficult for me to figure out which was the most odious of the sordid lot.

Whatever. If Santorum does get the nomination, I'm looking forward to Obama finally becoming fed up with the ghastly tactics of his Republican rivals. He finally does the angry black dude-thing and just punches the runt in the snoot during a live TV debate. It'll be like that scene where Eddy Haskell finally pushes Beaver Cleaver a tad to far and winds up with a bloody nose. The President will then loom over the little creep, fists clenched, and shouts down like Moses from on top of the mountain, "Hey, punk! I am the President of these United States. When I stand, everybody stands in my presence. Get your skinny ass off the floor!!!"

Itty-bitty Ricky then crawls with what alacrity his jellified limbs can summon. He is sobbing, snot and tears and shame running down his squirrel-like and busted mug as he scrambles, weeping, off to the wings of the stage where he wails for G-d in High Heaven to rescue him from the Black Demon sent on the Black Throated Wind swirling out of ancient nights in the Arabian desert. No help is forthcoming. Off camera the audience can hear the merciless pounding of our President's heels upon the punk's neck and wretched cries for mercy for the doomed. Then there is silence.

The President returns to his podium. He straightens his tie. There is the merest blemish of sweat glinting upon his brow. He smiles broadly and addresses a grateful nation. He asks, quite calmly: "Do you have any questions?"

Res Ipsa Loquitur,

S

The recent signing of the National Defense Authorization Act by President Obama was an act of shameless cowardice by a man sworn to defend the constitution. Yet he is approving a law that affords the state the right to indefinitely detain without trial any citizen accused of pretty well anything. The ongoing dark comedy and menace of the Republican race for their party’s presidential nomination, the evil lies, distortions, and outright contempt for simple human decency displayed by self-proclaimed patriots who would sell their mother’s, sister’s and brother’s rights in exchange for the consideration of multi-billionaire profiteers have together caused me to fall into desperation and gloom.

Still, I cannot give up all hope. We are a great nation that has, in its darkest hours, redeemed itself. We are a resourceful people. We are a nation born of deep exasperation with the cunning soul of a stowaway rat fleeing a sinking ship and the agitation of an electrified key riding the tail of Ben Franklin’s kite in the midst of a railing storm on a gloom benighted dusk… or was it a dawn? Truly, we are a nation of improvisers and clowns. Who better to turn to but Nobody’s Fool, Wavy Gravy!

Some years ago, my friend Wavy proposed Nobody for President. The campaign, of course, went nowhere. Yet, today we must again take up the gauntlet. Let’s start with a few apt bumper stickers that can be multi-purposed in this go-go-go age of the Internet as campaign slogans and tag lines for ads in the upcoming come-from-behind ride to the top of the steaming, fetid heap of rancid poop that is the present field of candidates for sale. With a tip of the banged up old bowler hat, a squeeze of the big, red schnoz, and in the proud tradition of hack comedians stealing their jokes, here we go!

• Nobody Cares About You!
• Nobody’s Going to Raise Your Taxes!
• Nobody Will Fight for Your Rights!
• Nobody Loves You!
• Nobody Has Your Back!
• Nobody Has Your Interests in Mind!
• Nobody Has a Real Plan!
• Nobody Will Keep a Promise!
• Nobody is on Your Side!
• Nobody Will Keep Our Environment Safe!
• Nobody Will Protect Your Secrets!
• Nobody’s Business is Our Business!
• Nobody Knows the Trouble You Seen!
• Nobody Wins, Nobody Loses!
• Nobody Looks to the Future!
• Nobody Tells It Like It Is!

Okay, you get the gist. Feel free to comment and add your own suggestions. Nobody is counting on you to get this campaign rolling. Get on the bandwagon! Lend your weird shoulder to the wheel. Send money, cash only. Cup cakes and other goods for the bake sale are welcomed. The staff at Nobody’s HQ also enjoy kielbasa boiled in beer for those all night telethons. Of course, just plain beer would be fine, also.

Send donations and foodstuffs to Nobody for President HQ, 2001 Miracle Mile, Whoopsulanti, MI, 01140, CO/Porgy Tirebiter, Esq.

Kludge Ergo Foo,

S

Occupy Everywhere

Dear Friends,

I’m feeling grumpy these days. I’m grumpy about, among other things, the gross lack of social and economic justice and equality in my nation. This has led me to get involved with the Occupy movement in my hometown. That is the other thing that is making me grumpy.

While pretty much everybody in the group are nice and good hearted folks, as a unit they are remarkably ineffectual. They mainly are going about having meetings about having meetings and instructing newcomers in arcane hand signals that seem like some weird fraternity handshakes perhaps created by mute extraterrestrials. These are used to supposedly facilitate a democratic to-and-fro that winds up a discussion on how to come to consensus about what constitutes a consensus and hence arrives at no consensus except to have another meeting… maybe.

There is often no consensus as to whether or not it was decided to have a meeting, nor where and when it should happen if it was to happen to somehow have a meeting somewhere in space and time. The disassembled, well-meaning folks wiggle their fingers and gesticulate patiently in a manner that would befuddle a native speaker of ASL. There is silence in the room until the formation of a working committee is proposed. Another meeting is called for somewhere, sometime under the Great Arc of Heaven to decide on actually forming such a group. More gesticulations flurry the air, everybody gives up on the issue and agrees to tell each other how nice they are and exchange hugs.

Thus, I am now submitting an action plan to actually get something, one thing, done. If these good people can’t get out of their own way to work toward the stated and simple goal of promoting economic and social justice across the world and here in the U.S.A. I’ll do it on my own initiative with just a little assistance. Only a few folks happy to take a bit of time and small risks are required. A sense of humor and willingness to spend a night in the local lock-up are also essential. The staff at the police station are very accommodating and breakfast from McDonald’s is customarily served at 7AM, prior to the 8AM date in court. Don’t ask me how I know this.

Action Plan # 1: A Fugue in Ten Easy Pieces

• Recruit at least one sympathetic lawyer and one doctor to lend their efforts to the action described below.

• Recruit at least four folks willing to disrupt the local evening newscast that uses our city’s streets as a set to talk about how good business is, how swell the weather is, and how nice our fair city is, while ignoring the folks living on the street just out of the view of the news camera.

• This can be done very simply. We only need to have four or more folks with large, readable signs standing in view of the camera behind the lovely newscaster. As the camera and lights are weighted down by sand bags, they cannot be moved once the location’s telecast has begun. All the camera will be able to see is our protest, our signs and our presence in front of Bank of America (twenty feet away). We needn’t say anything, chant, play bongos, or make any fuss but by simply standing on our own street.

• A lawyer and a doctor should stand aside but able to clearly see, take notes, and record on video the unfolding, silent protest.

• Protesters should be prepared to be asked to move by the news crew. We should remain in place. One designated individual may report to the camera that we are standing on our street, where we pay taxes, and we are only exercising the same rights as the local TV station.

• If the cops are called, we must be prepared to be arrested, as mentioned above. Be polite with the officers. Repeat our statement made to the news crew. If told by an officer that we are being a public nuisance, ask how we can remedy the situation while not sacrificing our 1^st and 4^th Amendment rights to peaceful assembly, free speech, and the freedom from unlawful search and seizure.

• If told by the officers that we may not remain on the sidewalk, state that there is no local ordinance against standing on the sidewalk (factually true). Again, be prepared to be arrested.

• If arrested, be compliant. Thank the officers for their contribution to the cause (as this is being recoded, if not by the news crew by our doctor or attorney). The attorney will follow us to the local station and sort things out, if possible, or stay tuned to the upcoming morning’s court docket where he will represent us. He will also call the local print, television and Internet news outlets, offer the recording, his notes and comments.

• If the evening local news crew has not delivered any news of the event, or even the lovely weather, the producer back at the station will be fuming mad with that crew. If they do tape the protest, that will be all the station has to use to fill the four minute hole in their evening program. Either way, we just took over the biggest broadcast outlet in the region.

• If we do wind up in the clink and have to go to court in the morning, we will have a recording of the entire event, a doctor to report on the physical treatment of the detainees, a well dressed lawyer to argue for our rights… and one irritated judge wondering why his time is being taken up with a few citizens who did nothing but hold up some oak-tag on the street that they actually own. He may be irritated with us. He may be fed up with the cops that should be busy rounding up the kid that sold his own son some pot. Either way, again, we win. We just made the news.

So, who’s with me?

Res Ipsa Loquitor,

S

Romney's Golden Nose

Dear Friends,

More news on the tragic hair gel poisoning of Presidential candidate Mitt Romney. This follows his recovery from the emergency nosectomy and full body depilation. The following report was filed by Normand Pudvacker of the AP just this afternoon.

Kludge Ergo Foo,

S

From Columbia, South Carolina

Former Governor Mitt Romney was last evening near death, bald over his entire body and without a nose was immersed in a bathtub full of ice and Nair® . As doctors struggled to save him, a Jewish Rabbi was summoned to Columbia’s Our Lady of Blind Hope Hospital from Ox Pit South Carolina, some one-hundred and twelve miles away, to deliver last rights. Rabbi Edelmensch was the closest thing that the hospital administration could find for a Mormon minister. The kindly nuns administering to Mr. Romney’s care provided the Rabbi with some hastily scribbled words for the departed. As the candidate was heavily sedated, he never knew the difference.

Amazingly, at four-thirty this morning, Romney rallied and regained consciousness with surprising vigor. Dr. Professor Yogi Vinnie Bum Raisin, the candidate’s political and personal care assistant was instantly summoned from the campaign’s rented penthouse headquarters and promptly put down his hookah to make his way to the hospital. (See sidebar story: Mysterious Fire at Romney Headquarters Probed.)

By cell phone while in transit to Blind Hope, the Dr. Professor was informed of his client’s noseless and hairless condition. Given the hour he knew there was no opportunity to acquire a toupee for former Governor Romney, but the campaign’s tour stretch limo provided a fine swatch of lush, black shag carpeting. Deftly removing a one foot portion with the switchblade that Rum Raisin reliably kept in his left boot, a fairly suitable rug was fashioned for Romney’s now smooth and shiny pate. The Piggly Wiggly up the street from the hospital was open, and luckily had penny nails on sale, as well as a serviceable, if not ideal, rubber mallet from the automotive section.

Now, with only hours to spare before a previously scheduled press conference, the media ablaze with rumors of Romney’s condition and potential need to drop out of the race, a new nose was required. Rum Raisin made a few calls to medical colleagues, both on the eastern seaboard of the USA, and as far away as Pyongyang, North Korea. No suitable transplant donor could be found. His final call was to Mr. Sikh's Custom Jewelry Shoppe on Magnolia Terrace. The proprietor was a longtime associate of Rum Raisin and could be entrusted to provide a splendid nose of gold on an emergency basis, and he would keep his yap shut about who came up with the cash for it. Thus it was swiftly back to the Piggly Wiggly to fetch a bungee cord to affix the new nose to the presidential hopeful’s puss.

Everything seemed to be coming together very smoothly for the campaign by 4PM today. The candidate was reinvigorated in overcoming the tragedy of addiction to hair gel. As Rum Raisin offered to slather a handful of Redken® Certified Hypoallergenic and Non Addictive Smoothing Mousse upon the shag about to be hammered on to Romney’s skull, he declined and stated that his aides should simply hammer away.  Bellowed Romney, “My hair gel days are over! Today I have a new life and a fine, fine new nose!!!” With that, the head nailing done, the golden nose was bungeed to Mitt’s head and, after a few adjustments to get the thing on straight and right side up, the exuberant presidential contender expressed his thanks to all the good folks at Blind Hope Hospital and to his own staff. He will appear to the public via television, radio and Facebook® at 8PM EDT, this evening.

Reported by Normand Pudvacker of the AP; 1/19/12

Mitt Romney's Bad Habit…

Dear Friends,

The following is fresh off the AP Wire. Dateline Columbia, S.C. and reported by Melton Tirebiter, Tuesday 17th of January, 2012.

S

Candidate for the Republican party’s nominee in the 2012 race for President of The United States, Mitt Romney, was stricken ill while at a campaign fundraiser and primary race rally in Columbia, S.C. As the former Governor of Massachusetts lay suddenly incapacitated on the floor behind the dais, his personal holistic medical assistant, Dr. Professor Yogi Vinnie Bum Raisin, rushed from the auditorium to Romney’s aid as his patient lay apparently choking on his own vomit.

The candidate’s tongue was seen to enlarge and extend from his mouth heavenward as it turned a luxuriant shade of purple. Dr. Professor Yogi Vinnie Bum Raisin applied a silver spoon obtained from the head table to restrain the groaning tongue and then aspirate the candidate in a procedure know as the “French Kiss of Life.” Upon his first exuberant inhalation, Romney was then observed to writhe and suffer further symptoms. Large tufts of vibrantly orange hair emerged from under the cuffs of his pants and shirt. The hair on his well trimmed head suddenly grew six inches in three seconds. It then turned paisley with a day-glo sheen in the background color. He began to sweat profusely as he was taken by emergency ambulance to the nearest hospital, Our Lady of Blind Hope.

As he was removed from the auditorium he was heard to mutter “Hrrrmph-nonnnn-quaff-nah-nonnnn.” At this time there is no word on the meaning of this message from his bewildered but hopeful campaign staff.

Once in the Emergency Operating Room, it was immediately clear that Romney was suffering from Aveda Hair Gel poisoning. His nostrils were utterly clogged with cement hard clots of the stuff. Again, there was no comment from the staff as to their man’s addiction to his wife’s hair products. Nonetheless, having failed to dislodge the gunk from his proboscis with surgical tongs, an emergency Nosectomy was performed. The patient was then placed in a cooling bath of nepilatory Nair and ice-cubes from the local Piggly Wiggly to lower his seething body temperature and remove all unsightly body hair, as well as every other follicle on his hide.

Surgeons, joined by Professor Yogi Vinnie Bum Raisin have declared the procedures a total success. Campaign spokeswoman, Nancy Spankmy, vows that the presently noseless and hairless candidate, Romney, will be back on the campaign trail in days. His new slogan, she predicts, will be “Flumph’n ush Conumfha. Romphee in Fwo-Fhousand un Twelfe. I Shtansh fner da Noshelesh!”

From Colombia S.C. Melton Tirebiter