Monday, May 28, 2012

Divine Design

Candice Olsen, eat your fucking heart out.

Hoodoo in Heat

It's hotter than Hades here! Is your hoodoo groomed with Kreml?

Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Them 'Round

So there you sit with a bomb in your head.

It's a bomb which will detonate if you ever admit -- even for a moment, even to yourself -- that the Evil Libruls have ever been right about anything.

If detonated, this bomb will not only annihilate your identity, your ideals and your faith...not only destroy your standing in the community, the esteem of your friends, the respect of your spouse and children and, potentially, your livelihood...but it will also utterly humiliate you.

Should that bomb ever go off you would be forced to admit that have gotten really, really important things terribly wrong for the last 10...20...30...40 years.

That you trusted liars and hucksters with lives of your country and family -- liars and hucksters whose bullshit was painfully obvious to others but to which you were happily, willfully oblivious. That you gave these liars and hucksters your votes, your money, your irreplaceable time, your country and your heart even as they were pissing in your cow-dumb face and laughing at you behind your back.

Should that bomb ever go off you would be forced to admit that you not only loudly cheered on the destroyers of your country -- that you actually paid for the privilege --

but actively worked to cripple the efforts of those who first tried to warn you and then tried to save you.

Forced to eat all of your bile-soaked tirades.

Forced to admit before the whole world that you have a chump and a moron of the First Water

It does not matter how many charts Erza Klein generates or how loud the pleas for compromise from the imbecile Center, there is no possibility that our political system will get healthy anytime soon as long as 1/3 of our political ecosystem -- the American Conservative portion -- is stocked from floor to ceiling with people with this bomb in their heads.

As I wrote three years ago, I would be fucking delighted if this were not true...

I would be delighted if the GOP were to transubstantiate itself into something humane, pragmatic, data-drive and debate-worthy, because God knows we need all hands on deck these days.

But they won't -- they can't -- and so you now have the spectacle of a party/movement/cult that, on the one hand, clearly has no fucking idea what its core values even are anymore, but on the other hand is sprinting from camera to camera reassuring themselves that all they need do rebrand their atrocious ideology instead of rethinking it.

And if all this sounds a trifle familiar, it is because it is a shot-for-shot remake of the same incandescently brilliant strategy they trotted out after getting their milkshakes chugged in 2006.

Because ignorance and racism yoked to the service of plutocracy is not some weird, leftover ornament from the Very Very White Christmas 

of an age gone by.

Or as Ripley over at Whiskey Fire eloquently put it:

Reformers. But… but, they just can’t help themselves. Like well-dressed junkies, they go back to get their fix; like spoiled children, they break down and cry and demand attention; like washed up athletes and Little Misses, they can’t stop talking about their Glory Days, when what they did mattered, at least to them.
And they expect America to sit quietly, smile politely and listen, once again, to how they could throw that football over that mountain. How, if things were different, they would have won. But always, always, revisiting whatever scene makes the best excuse and gets the most sympathy. And for Republicans, it’s always 9/11/2001. Always.

Ignoring both the slowly suffocating voices of their own consciences as well as the advice of party stalwarts like Barry “Every good Christian should line up and kick Jerry Falwell's ass" Goldwater, the GOP spent the last 30 years wallowing luxuriously in the electoral mudhole that Richard Nixon clawed into the soft, red clay of Lester Maddox’s Georgia and George Wallace’s Alabama.



Because it fucking worked.

Because coaxing every miscreant, homophobe, gun nut, blood-and-soil Aryan nationalist, garden variety bigot and Christopath out from under every rock and rotting log in the Confederacy, down a rose-petal-strewn red carpet and into the Party of Lincoln won elections.

To be an American Conservative means that every day terrifying reality impinges a little more; every day history conspires a little harder to flick sparks at the detonation cord which will obliterate you.  And since all compromise is surrender, and surrender sets off the bomb, rather than sue Reality for peace, they have left themselves no choice but to scrape together anything that might ignite the fuse --  all of their bigotries, all of their paranoid delusions, all of their crackpot notions of good and God and government -- into one, big pile, defend it all collectively as a Holy Cause.

And never look back.

Being bigoted, atavistic assholes is the hill they have decided to die on

And nothing is ever going to turn them around.

Meet our new assistant


Sunday, May 27, 2012

Professional Left Podcast #129b -- Bonus Edition

In which I am interviewed by Gregg Bush of KOPN radio (Columbia, Missouri's Liberal news leader!) for about an hour and manage to make every point without imperiling Gregg's FCC licence even once.

Because I am a fucking professional.

Is it, really?

Sunday Morning Comin' Down -- UPDATE

I missed seeing racist, bomb-throwing grifter Newt Gingrich
and establishmentarian testicle cozy David Gregory

fellate each on "Meet the Press", after which failed HP CEO and McCain economics whisperer Carly Fiorina and Mr. David Brooks of the New York Times talk in hushed tones about an alternate Universe where the GOP is not packed to the gunwales, bigoted crazy (all while the elfin, corduroy-voiced E.J. Dionne scurries politely along behind trying - quietly and politely -- to point out that they are lying without ever, y'know saying it.)

But I need not have worried: later in the day, the "Liberal" MSNBC reran the entire thing on the teevee machine and WCPT -- virtually the only "Liberal" radio station in Illinois -- reran the entire thing again on the radio machine.

Thus I learned that Carly Fiorina has a deep, blue sad over,

  1. Barack Obama being the most negative politician in the entire history of American politics, and
  2. Vladimir Putin being the "untrustworthy" head of an "unsettled" government despite having George W. Bush's ratifying eye-prints all over his Cossack soul

and that David Brooks,

  1. Worries over "both sides" becoming "bounty hunters" in order to slake the roiling "juices" of their bases and,
  2. Thinks that Scott Walker is a "reformer" whose methods of "reforming the welfare state" might have been a little rough "but at least he did it!"

I have nothing to add to what I have already written about predicting almost to the day when (not "if" but "when") Dancin' David Gregory would once again loan the "Meet the Press" spotlight to his racist, bomb-throwing grifter pal Newt Gingrich so that Gingrich can once again re-vulcanize his bon fides enough to get back to the important work of hustling octogenarian Birchers out of their pudding money:

The Evil That Men Do 
I bet that Gingrich would be back doing the Sunday shows one of before June 1st, while my better half predicted it would take until at least July for the Mouse Circus douche wranglers to squeegee off enough of Gingrich's accreted awfulness to make him camera-ready again. 

(If you 'd like to hear us backing-and-forthing over this wager, fire up the April 27th episode of "The Professional Left" and skip on down to around the 64:00 minute mark.)

So...guess who one of Dancin' Davis Gregory's two guests will be this Sunday, May 27, 2012 on  the  most watch political teevee show in America?


Honestly, what gets me -- what ruined an evening I had planned to devote to looking for gas money in the sofa cushions -- is Gregory's sheer, "Fuck you" nakedness.  His absolute contempt for his audience and his profession: a contempt that is fully justified by the fact that -- like David Brooks, Marc Halperin and Tom Friedman -- David Gregory knows that none of his colleagues in the media will ever call him out by name for doing what he does. 

And so Mr. Gregory drops trou and waves Newt in our faces and smiles because he knows perfectly well that no one is going to say a damn word about it.

Except, of course, a few dirty fucking hippies, screaming uselessly into the hurricane.


And no, this is not a coincidence. Newt Gingrich -- one of the most spectacularly reckless, mendacious, grifty and gleefully destructive people in modern American political history -- appears on the most-watched political talk show in the United States more often that virtually any other human being because David Gregory wants it that way.

Back in 2009, Steve Benen (thence of the Washington Monthly) was speculating along these same lines:
Keep in mind, "Meet the Press" didn't have the actual Speaker of the House on at all this year. It also featured zero appearances from all of the other living former House Speakers (Hastert, Wright, Foley) combined.

There's just no reasonable explanation for this. Gingrich was forced from office in disgrace -- by his own caucus -- 11 years ago. What's more, he's kind of a nut -- we're talking about a former office holder who speculated, just last week, about hidden messages from God in snowstorms.

And yet, no other political figure was on "Meet the Press" more this year than crazy ol' Newt Gingrich. If someone can explain why, I'm all ears.

Hey, now that Mr. Benen actually works for NBC (well, MSNBC), maybe he can finally lay his hands on some answers to this question which so vexed him just three short years ago and then share them with the rest of us?

Then again, maybe not.

One of the built-in fail-safes of Beltway media power is that those of us who want people like Mr. Gregory to answer for their complicity -- who know that we will perish if we do not find a way to have the kind of honest national dialogues that Mr. Gregory is employed to strangle in the crib -- will never amass the media firepower to get that job done...

...and those that do have the horses know their power would be instantly taken away from them the minute they put someone like Greggers on the spot.

And so Imperial Rome rots because everyone in power hangs onto power by going along with the corrupt bargain.

We Should Have A Day of National Remembrance

So that we might never forget that before they put on tri-corner hats and pretended they had never heard of George W. Bush, the members of the 101st Republican Chairborne division were the most loyal members of Commander Cuckoobananas' Amen chorus.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Man of a Thousand Feces


Tomorrow, David Gregory once again invites America's "Definer of civilization, Teacher of the rules of civilization, Arouser of those who form civilization, Organizer of the pro-civilization activists and Leader (possibly) of the civilizing forces" back onto "Meet the Press" to once again shart all over any notion of responsible, political journalism.

As a public service to all of you shrill, vituperation America-haters out there who may wish to express your dissatisfaction with Mr. Gregory's choice of media snuggle-sack buddies, here is a portion of my stockpile of Gingrich Graphics.

If they can be of use to you, have at 'em: all I ask is attribution if you use them.

The Penguin

America's #1 Amateur Paleontologist

Newt Jong Il

The Grand Nagus of the Ferengrich Alliance

The Ging and I
The Ging and I

The Lie of the Beholder

Not a Witch

The Amnesiac Man

Baron Grifthausen

The Three Stigmata of Newton Gingrich

He will make the space elevators run on time

Help Me Shelly Adelson!

Date Night Hair


Friday, May 25, 2012

Happy Birthday Harlan Ellison

May 27th is the birthday of Harlan Jay Ellison.

In addition to mortaring together more award-winning words per page than just about any other writer I can think of, Harlan has also been a tireless, fearless ninja on behalf of just about any, dirty Liberal cause you can think of.

Especially free speech and respect for the rights
of the creative creator.

And the thing is, having bent those oars with Herculean strength and RCMP persistence for more than half a century, he's still at it; still working, still schticking, still a consumate practitioner of the very long con, still squiring the lovely Susan to various interesting places on planet Earth, still living the life you wished you lived and still raising welts and extracting tears using naught but that most ancient human craft of storytelling.

(And don't worry yourself into a hording panic, because there is plenty of New! Ellisonia! to go around.)

When I write about those who have been sounding the alarum bells in the night for decades, I put Harlan is near the top of that list. You cannot read "From Alabamy, With Hate" (1965) --

The redhead came over to me.

“We aren’t all as bad as they tell you we are down here,” she said, and seemed infinitely, genuinely sad about it.

“As bad as what, ma’am?” I asked, playing boyish and cute.

“Well, just like, you know, them others, like they tell you.”

“Who tells me, ma’am?”

“You know. We just aren’t all that bad, honest.”

“Yes ma’am.” I smiled at her. “But some of you are, and if you sit back and let them ruin your lovely state, then you’re as guilty as they are. I came all the way from Hollywood, ma’ am, just to see if I could help.”

She stared at me. I’d used a magic word. Hollywood. Then I wasn’t a Communist. A black-loving Jew, probably, but not a Communist. And I had such nice manners, and I obviously wasn’t a beatnik.

The fat one came out with the water. I took a long, deep pull from the kitchen glass, and returned it.

“Thank you, very very much, ma’ am.” I smiled, allowing the left-cheek dimple to show itself.

“You just tell ‘em we gave you a glass of water,” the redhead said, smiling, thinking she was sewing it up.

And if I’d been black? I thought. I didn’t say it, because the idea was to show them there were other ways to do it, not to antagonize them.

I loped back to the line of marchers and fell in, the line moved out again, and I repeated what had been said. They weren’t all that bad down here.

The Negro student turned a look of venom and truth on me.

“Don’t you fall for that okey-dokey,” he warned me.

Hoop-de-hoop. Uh. Uh. Uh. Uh.

We turned down onto the main drag. Dexter Street. Past the Jeff Davis Hotel. The whites standing at every curb, and the rednecks, the denim—clad, white-shirted men, giving us the finger.

“Where you want freedom from, boy?” a redneck murmured at me from the sidelines. “New York? Philadelphia? Chicago?”

I smiled at him...frig you, Jack.

Past the Paramount Theatre. Elvis Presley in Girl Happy.

“That isn’t one of ours,” the Negro high school girl said.

My heart went cold in me. It’s so easy to forget. Past the J.J. Newberry five and dime. The second floor housed the Montgomery Citizens Council offices.

They had a gigantic poster hanging out the window. It showed Martin Luther King with some other people, and it said MARTIN LUTHER KING / COMMUNIST!

Hoop-de-hoop. Hoop-de-hoop.

-- or "A Love Song to Jerry Falwell" (1984) or "Revealed at Last! What Killed the Dinosaurs! And You Don't Look so Terrific Yourself." (1978ish) or "Norman Mayer" (1982) and not see the broad, medieval nightmare shadow of what was bearing down on us; not see the Reagan and Nixon years for what they really were -- Guernica-like dress rehearsals for the long-range plans of America's plutocrats and Christopaths.

Oh, and one last thing.

When I was a wee driftglass, the idea of meeting and talking to writers I greatly admired was like the idea of splitting a $20,000 hooker...with Santa space: several layers of impossible.

I now know that meeting and talking to writers I greatly admire is both possible and often genuinely delightful.

Happy birthday, Harlan.

profiles in courage

A Hotdog Makes Her Lose Control


Wednesday, May 23, 2012

"The most lurid space age tales...."



What’s in Mistress MJ’s Handbag?

Available at The Hair Hall of Fame Gift Shop.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Lucy Hale

The first time I knew about her is when she was playing a movie called 'A Cinderella Story 3'.... I love her! She's so beautiful, amazing, awesome, and cute

Sunday, May 13, 2012


Today I was so happy, cause today is my day with him. While we didn't go anywhere for today, ya I understand with this condition. Last night, he was lost his helm at Gor Padjajaran. Who the hell are them! Yang gacul kualat siah! berani beraninya! hadiah buat yang gacul jari tengah gue aja deh..:)
Back to the topic, Ya I just want to say..


Thankyou for loving me for me
Thankyou for everything you've done for me, for finally giving me happines, I love you
Terimakasih untuk dua bulan ini... Ditio Rizki;)

Terimakasih ka Ibe yang sudah membuat ini :)

dengan penuh cinta,
Mahfira Azmi Maulani. Salam pager 13