mercredi 9 février 2011
Friends Don't Let Friends Drink and Blog.
Luckily, I don;t have many friends.
OK, so I'm hammered. Sue me and sick the frigid bitches of the Temperance Society on me. I haven't been this drunk since I was in the Navy and trying to forget what I did as Seal for flag and cuntry (Yes, deliberate misspelling. The rest are non-deliberate, if that;s a word.)
Fuck it. It's not as if I ever did this shit before. So why did JP, the voice of reason for almost a dozen transiently-amused people, suddenly polish off Mrs. JP's stash of Meyers dark rum for the eggnog and start in on the leftover Spätlese white wine from Easter dinner?
Because yours truly had a BAD fucking day, that's why. You'd be reaching, grasping, eve, for the nearest bottle of shit that was stronger than seltzer water if you got hit with a $601.58 brake job. Yep. It never fucking ends.
I got a $280-300 estimate from the mechanic and got hit with a $601.58 fucking bill because he found the other brake line on the starboard side was rotted like the one on the port side o the car, then the apportioning valve that feeds brake fluid to the brake lines got fucked and 8 hours of labor later, I got a call saying I had to fork over $601 to get my fucking car back. About $100 more than I had in the bank.
Ain't that the shit? Well, alcohol won't solve your problems but it makes you feel a while fuck of a lot better about having em. I'm not a nasty drunk and Mrs. JP is enormously amused by this atypical side of me so what the fuck?
I've already spent more on this fucking car in the first 7 months of ownership than I paid for it, almost $1300, to be exact, not including oil changes, excise taxes.
Then I made the mistake of going to William River's Pitts latest article about Ronnie Reagan and the Do Nothing Tea Party 112th Congress and what should've been exorcised back on February 6th through my alter ego, the indefatigable Mikey Flannigan, recently unceremoniously tossed out on his ass by Ben fucking Greenberg of Grand Central Publishing, found itself welling, bubbling and boiling back up again from my subconscious like a wound thatll never heal.
What the FUCK is is with this neoconservative fetish for anything Reagan, that Grover fucking Norquist, who already got Reagan's name Velcroed to the airport in Washington, won't rest until he gets his mans name on the $50 or $20 or $10 dollar bill or the dime or his sagging puss on Mt. fucking Rushmnore?
Doesn't he know that under Reagan the federal employee rolls expanded from 2.8 million to 3.2 million despite putting 300,000 CETA employees out of work? That Reagan actually raised taxes, that he instituted immigration reform that included immigration amnesty (that would wind up being unenforced), that he cut and ran when the boys from Hezbollah pulled a Marilyn Monroe/Robert Palmer made the heat too hot to handle (At least the Great Communicator allowed himself to be photographed with the flag-draped coffins, unlike the cowards of the past and present administrations)?
Gee, I guess so. Selective memory is an indispensable requisite to have when one chooses to be a Republican and to make a pretense of making heroes who didn't shrink government so that it could be "dragged into the bathroom" and "drowned in a bathtub." As with Nixon in 2004, it could almost be said that if reagan was running for president in '08 or even in '12, he'd be branded a shameless liberal.
Reagan is a hero, the Tea Party is a collective hero yet how fast these idols with feet of dried Pla-Doh are misrepresented and dropped to the fucking wayside once all the checks have been cashed and toted up. Reagan's centennial, that he almost lived ;long enough to see, was a fucking bonanza that Lorn Green never dreamed of.
The Tea Party Express, even though they never gave them their name to use for marketing purposes, saw their "good" name being used to pump up funds for the Republican Party that never saw a cash cow it didn't wanna milk.
How do you like your Tea Party Congress now, you fucking racists?
You trotted out your little Hannibal Lecter psychopaths-in-waiting on a mantra of political platform of responsibility and restraint in government and what did they do?
They symbolically tried a redefinition of rape and fucked up.
They symbolically tried to repeal health care and fucked up.
Their first act was to read the Constitution as if we needed to be reminded of its lessons.
Now they can't even renew the USA PATRIOT Act, which ain't necessarily a bad thing, since it's the very definition of the government overreach about which you've been screaming like a bull that didn't quite make the jump over a razor wire fence.
You stupid fucks. Welcome to ObamaLand. We know how you feel. We, too, elected a guy who promised to change how things were done on the Beltway and only ramped up virtually everything the Bush Maladministration stood for.
So, how much was your car repair bill this week?
How much will your rent be? Who in Congress found you a job? John the Orange Man?
How much will your car repair bill impact on whether or not you get to live with a fucking roof over your heads. How much safer will that loved one be in Afghanistan or Iraq or where ever Obama and your 112th Tea Party Congress hasn't pulled us out?
Can you say you're better off now than you were four years ago?
Bwah ha ha ha!
As the man says, misery loves company so welcome to the ants and the front fucking lawn, because that's where we're all lying after Lucy snatched the fucking football from us once again, folks. What the fuck took you?