the first insider tell-all of the former bush administration has emerged. the counterattack is immediate, mean-spirited, and undermined at its own hand. somebody must’ve hit a nerve and it all seems very familiar.
the recently discredited poster boy of the republican party has set a back fire – or at least, as they said in his heyday, jumped the shark – in a very diversionary fashion. rare creative points to the neocons here: it’s a singular style, if lacking aesthetically.
The teabaggers are not motivated in the slightest by racism; we know this because they tell us that some of their best friends are black. the motherfucker was black before he was president, after all.
stress makes you both stupid and dishonest; we all know about the stress of any misguided drive for power, since when was the last time you popped out of bed knowing you just can’t wait to get to the office . . . so perhaps it’s not shocking that lying narcissist fundies are still dancing with the stars, or at least reaching for them through avarice and hypocrisy cloaked as empathy and idealism.
you lie! kidding. no.
here’s hard news: after suffering through three years of the most monumental drought in the history of the state, georgia is suddenly underwater. it seems there is a just and vengeful god after all, it’s the war of all against all, whenever the socialists go teabag-for-teabag with the dittoheads it will make for great television and that means there’s money to be made on this so it’s on.
the causal link has not yet been fully explicated by fox news but it will soon become clear that what matters in the end is not power or vengeance but the golden rule. we’re talking pure batshit street karma, kiddies – and how’s that for a real talking point.
since reunion tours are bad karma and just as misguided as the bush years and we should all be paying more attention to scruffy kids lugging cheap guitars and amps over the interstates, who better to lay out the game plan than these accidental philosophers. leaving no child behind, they’re hanging from basement pipes coast-to-coast and will appear in some hot stinking unventilated basement club near you. this is deep diversion cheaper than oxycontin addictions and surreptitious plane trips to argentina, and you never have to explain why you were playing footsie in airport stalls on your layover. your econoline van – the one that’s older than your parents – has broken down in more states than mccain took in the last election, for chrissakes. caveat: following this does require a certain physical stamina that may no longer be feasible for the majority of our supersized, screen-dead population. so consult your physician and get a prescription for provigil to keep up; after all, it’s the new coffee and loads cheaper than starbucks so long as you have a health plan. har.
but it’s not all about pushing the limits pharmaceutically or pushing anything into a closet and dissembling into a makeover of lies and idiocy under the stress of trying to be somebody you’re not. jim carroll died for our sins, and if the life of the basketball diaries tells us anything it says be your own best self because of your flaws; live through your own shit and come out cleaner on the other side. jonesing for the golden rule is pointless until you pay your dues: you can’t help anybody else if you don’t know who the fuck you are in the first place.
we’re spending millions and aggravating china trying to save panda bears. the segue here is that republicans are charismatic megafauna too. they live in an evolutionary cul-de-sac (i love this phraseology and i stole it, read the link) and will simply chundle along pushing their racism and hatred and ignorance and plutocratic righteousness if the rest of us support that microclimate. or, god help us all, emulate it.
late add; just can’t pass this up: chumbawamba has the margaret thatcher ep shrink-wrapped and ready to go, they’re selling it on their website, but they aren’t shipping until a certain precondition is met:
I’d just like to point out, to clear up any confusion, that you don’t get sent the EP until she actually dies, so please don’t email and ask why you haven’t received it yet. We’re all impatient for it to happen I know …
karma is still a bitch and that’s it. my five minutes are long up, but i’m feeling no stress so long as my modafinil is kicking in.