September 29, 2009

When all the Sorrow Died in Laughter

I really didn't care to weigh in on this Polanski thing, but as my previous post attests, I got nothing anyway, so I might as well.

First: the talent factor. I always thought Polanski was overblown. Like his counterpart Jerzy Kosinski, another Polish refuge, his first work was his best. After that it was all marketing.

Rosemary's Baby was pretty thin gruel, and Chinatown is crap, I don't care what anyone tells you. Even Nicholson couldn't save that abortion. The Pianist is interesting, but only insofar as my predeliction to watch other humans suffer interest me. As far as I'm concerned, Sergio Leone beats the pus out of Polanski for long, insufferable melodramatic cinema.

The Fearless Vampire Killers has a few moments, such as the clubbing of the wolf. I'll give him that.

The man: what do you say about a rich, famous, well-connected guy who drugs and rapes and then anally rapes a 13-year-old girl against her repeated remonstrances? Nothing much, in my book.

The state of the art: we don't want this old freak back over here, anyway. It will be the Phil Spector Show, revisited. I liked it much better when Polanski was a man exiled, banished from the bi-coastal creep show that so adores him still. Trust me on this one: as a tiny lad dodging Nazis and Red Army thugs in Poland he has no love lost for the French. They merely happened to be the only exigent sycophants. The French do serve the wonderful purpose of housing the detritus of the rest of society, however, and for that they should be recompensed. Taking Depp off our hands will suffice.

With luck the Swiss will kick this punk to the curb, so that we may all forget him. He is no cause celebre. Ostracism is an under-utilized societal tool in my opinion. It needs more vigor, and outside the box-office thinking. Free the creep in Somalia, or Saudi Arabia, or somewhere else his talents will be appreciated right unto his stoning, for instance.

Fuck Polanski. Only two Romans are worth duck shit in my book: Marcus Aurelius, and that quarterback Gabriel. And if you don't believe me about Roman Gabriel, ask Lance Rentzel.

Update: Ouch. Had I read van der Leun, I never would have broached this topic. That's how it's done.

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September 28, 2009

Nothing From Nothing Leaves Nothing

I gots nothing. And quoting Billy Preston belabors the point in humiliating fashion. Oh, I've plenty to say, but some manner of beast has absconded with my stylebook. Every sentence I write becomes banal, quotidian tripe, and every decent idea decays into a pablum of platitudes.

I've also been tranpsosing letters as my typing skills seem to have deteriorated. My right thumb keeps hammering the s pac e ba r, to o, for no good reason. Not a tic, but what I would call Pipette's Syndrome, which is the way one would type if a small glass tube were inserted in one's anus.

The novel is wallowing in a Sargasso Sea of indifference. Even my short stories I was planning to complete next week during fall break are languishing unrequited, bereft of decent adverbs. I used to alleviate writer's block with a three-day bender in a forgivably remote location, but I don't have the cilia left for that kind of tantrum anymore.

Oh, well. Unlike that pipette, it'll pass. And yes, I do know how to change my luck. I'm just not at that stage yet. Actually, I blame the guy who wrote that book on biorhythms. I've been blaming my torpors on that bullshit for thirty years.

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September 24, 2009

Lamar Futch Lives!

Lest anyone think that Chapter Five of A Trip of Goats was an unrealistic portrayal of bestiality, I present one Robert Melia, Jr., of Burlington County, Pennsylvania:

If animals could talk, a few cows in Burlington County might ask state legislators to hurry up and outlaw bestiality.

During a bizarre hearing there yesterday, a Superior Court judge dismissed animal-cruelty charges against a Moorestown police officer accused of sticking his penis into the mouths of five calves in rural Southampton in 2006, claiming a grand jury couldn't infer whether the cows had been "tormented" or "puzzled" by the situation or even irritated that they'd been duped out of a meal.

I am particularly gratified by the judge's obviously deep contemplation on this matter, as well:

"If the cow had the cognitive ability to form thought and speak, would it say, 'Where's the milk? I'm not getting any milk,' " Judge James J. Morley asked.

Children, Morley said, seemed "comforted" when given pacifiers, but there's no way to know what bovine minds thought of Robert Melia Jr. substituting his member for a cow's teat.

"They [children] enjoy the act of suckling," the judge said. "Cows may be of a different disposition."

This fellow's really thought this thing through. The prosecutor was having none of it, however:

Burlington County Assistant County Prosecutor Kevin Morgan was certainly irritated by the ruling, claiming the grand jury didn't see the videos of the alleged incident, including one in which one hungry calf allegedly head-butts Melia in the stomach.

"I think any reasonable juror could infer that a man's penis in the mouth of a calf is torment," Morgan argued. "It's a crime against nature."

Amen to that. Still, the judge felt compelled to follow the letter of the law, something we should all be grateful for:

Morley said it was questionable whether Melia's alleged crimes against cows, although "disgusting," fit the definitions in the animal-cruelty statute.

"I'm not saying it's OK," Morley said. "This is a legal question for me. It's not a questions of morals. It's not a question of hygiene. It's not a question of how people should conduct themselves."

Who is this judge? I like the cut of his jib. This tale also provides me cover, as when Yabu's bride Barbie asked me what parts of the book, if any, were true. Just the cow scene, I told her. Everything else was ficmatitious. It's too bad Melia will be in prison for the correlated crimes of sex with minor girls. He would have been an awesome Lamar in the film adaptation.

h/t Rob Sama, who hopefully feels vindicated for his considered review of ATOG.

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September 21, 2009

Après Moi, le Déluge

Rains of Biblical proportions have punished my stomping grounds for days. Automobiles, toddlers, and pedestrians have been swept away, sucked into the great maw of the swollen rivers.

In light of such calamity and grievous loss of life, I should be ashamed that my concern is over a mere two inches of water in the basement. But my library is down there. I have first editions imperiled in that bilge! And a hot date with typhoid.

Girded for battle with wet vac, CamelBak of wine, and cigarette pack lashed to my baseball cap like a Vietnam grunt, I wade into the har o' darkness with the words of Travis Bickle in my ears:

Some day a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets.

My fear, of course, is that I'm that scum. I've seen signs to that effect, everywhere.

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September 19, 2009

Rudderless in America

It is pleasing to see the disgusting sump of liberal orthodoxy (exemplified by the conspiratorial nexus of the Obama crowd, Congress, and the Blackguards Formerly Known as The Media) being drained by renegade and outlaw individuals, but without leadership it leads to naught. And I apologize for that sentence, as it was positively Faulknerian in its preening, self-indulgent rambling, and it forced me to apologize merely to have a second sentence to end this paragraph.

The brilliant guerilla tactics of Breitbart, O'Keefe, and Giles, coupled with the more mainstream (there's a word I'm rather tired of hearing) efforts of Beck et al in exposing the sinister machinations of the American Left is heartening, to be sure. However absent true leadership it is pissing in the wind, a decidedly disfavored endeavor. Gains may be made in the 2010 mid-terms, but if someone doesn't rise to the occasion, and grasp the baton, 2012 will witness yet another drubbing for conservatives and classical liberals.

The GOP looms large as the inevitable recipient of the largesse of the renegades and outlaws that are doing all of this heavy lifting, as they always are. They will undoubtedly squander this largesse as well. Just as they always do. Whereas I despise the Democratic Party as it has existed since 1980, I resent the hell out of the Republican Party, and only vote for them truculently, and with great indignation. I come from a line of Democrats back to the 1820 Census. But if I have to share a twin bed with the fat chick or Ron Jeremy, I'm sleeping with the fat chick.

One may reasonably forget third party candidates for the foreseeable future. The only thing bipartisan about our federal government is the way in which they leverage the campaign finance regulations to exclude outsiders.

So which deserving Republican soul shall rise to the challenge, or the bait, as it were, and snatch that brass ring being dangled in the political ether? The pickings are pretty slim. In fact, only a handful of national level candidates are even poking their heads from their tortoise shells to see if the Gnatzis are still strafing their foxholes.

As I see it (and my handicapping is always subject to the vagaries of the quality of poor red liquor I've happened upon):

Newt Gingrich. I have to start with the old warhorse, because he simply won't go away. He imagines he keeps reinventing himself. Personally, I really like the guy: intelligent, erudite, experienced, a history professor. On paper he's the go-to guy. But he has the personality of rusted Brillo pad, the telegenics of a Teletubby trapped in a Road Warrior sequel, and an abrasive speaking voice that makes Tallulah Bankhead sound like a siren enticing Brave Ulysses. He's also saddled with the twin demons of Newt, and Gingrich. There will never be a President of the United States named Newt. Nor will there be one named Gingrich. The names are just too dissonant, too jarring. They flow not from the tongue as liquid palliative. In fact, were I Newt, I would have probably smacked both of my parents in the nose when I was ten or eleven, and said Henceforth, I shall be known as 'Ike'.

I only mention Gingrich because the ticker-tape machine known as Hannity indulges the man in his fantasies.

Romney: A stiff, a loser. Once you've been trummelled by a cracked-up piece of work like John McCain only the people desperate for a paycheck can convince you of the Inevitability of Your Singular Awesomeness. Added liability: he believes in an additional angel named Moroni. And you can't spell moron without Moroni. Scratch.

That disposes of the old-school detritus, more or less, since I assume Fred Thompson is popping Viagra and playing Arm the Missile Silo with his hot wife. Can't blame him, really. So nothing but newbies now.

Palin? I confess an ongoing fondness for her, however she is one of those creatures, for good or bad, who is so easily caricatured one cannot overcome the concept. Like Gerald Ford: he wasn't a bumbler. He was an All-American running back at Michigan. But Palin will only win through vote after vote after vote in primaries, with her own party determined to defeat her. Hers is an uphill battle, with both sides of the elites determined to destroy her. But of course that's the malevolence and idiocy embedded in the GOP that I hate in the first place. Palin is the ultimate third party candidate, because the Ivy League dilletantes in her own party detest her Annie Oakley persona so much they would forgo their Dupont Circlejerks before they endorsed her. She's the person you bring in to push the big red button after Iran nukes us, and the ditherers are unsure of their next move, because Foggy Bottom is smoldering ash. I hate you, but help me.

John Boehner: I love this guy. He's the only Republican actively fighting the communization of the country. But, hey: there will never be a President named Newt, and there will never be a "President Boner." Ain't gonna happen. Another thing: what's with the Carey Grant perpetual tan? It speaks of narcissism, and a tanning bed tucked in the congressional office. From there it's a short leap (at least in my fervid imagination) to strippers on the payroll, and reacharounds. Hey: it's my imagination, after all. And that's what I'd be ordering up. The point? Boehner's too good to be true. I've spent a lifetime having my hopes and dreams dashed on the rocks by Dash Riprocks like John. Other than that, Boehner's a stand up guy. With a stand up name.

Bobby Jindal: I want this guy operating on my pancreas. Or setting up my servers. Too smart for politics. Has no fucking idea how the game is played, and his decency quotient is far too high. He also looks ethnic. Obama has screwed it for the melanin-empowered. No one is going to trust a politican that isn't albino after The O. Sorry, Bobby. We hardly knew ye.

Gee. That's pretty much it. Pawlenty? Doesn't resonate. McConnell? Tarred as a hillbilly.

Face it: we got nuttin. The same criminal syndicate will get reelected in 2010, and 2012, because the conservatives could not even put up a Buster Keaton for office. At least you'd have a bit of bathos going for you then. As it is, the conservatives will be visualized as equally corrupt and inept, but without the experience of the Democratic mafiosi. I can hear it now: those buses they threw us under? At least they ran on time.

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September 17, 2009

The Last Black President

Barack Obama's legacy has already been written, mere months into his term. It is this: the casual, insulting, provocative, hateful, dishonest, and desperate aspersions of racism cast by this fellow and his lot have left a significant portion of the populace feeling quite betrayed. These quick, cheap potshots for short term gain will leave bruises upon the body politic for two generations.

Fifty-two percent of the voters cast their ballot for Barack Obama, freely and willfully. That number includes a goodly amount of conservatives, Republicans, and libertarians, who cast that ballot as a vote of good will, hoping against hope that Obama would truly be the 'post-racial' candidate he proclaimed himself to be. These were votes of optimism, good faith, and, of course, guilt. Obama sought those votes under the premise of ameliorating racism, or at least the guilt-by-association many felt about past racism.

For Obama, and the Democratic party, and for all of his henchfolk, to now sling the libel of racism at anyone who disagrees with his any utterance or policy is a betrayal of incredible proportions. The 55% of the populace who disagrees with his health care plan includes, obviously, a shitload of Obama voters. For breaking ranks with Obama over a fucking policy difference this man is willing to slander and tar people who just voted for him with the ultimate insult. It takes a special breed of asshole to do that.

One could blame Obama's fellow travelers, however we all know who always deals the first race card from the bottom of the deck, and that is the man himself. Obama and his fellow creatures of the night may take solace in the fact that his callow betrayal of racial goodwill will result in his presidency being the last presidency of a black American for the next 30 years. There will not be a black Democratic president for 50 years.

No rational person, black or white or yellow, will, for the foreseeable future, allow themselves to be played that egregiously again. If the public had realized that, by voting for a man who promised to move us beyond race, they would be slathered with the stigma of racism every time they raised a questioning hand on an issue, we would now be having these vocal fights over HillaryCare, not ObamaCare.

I hope Obama sleeps well at night, his head cushioned upon the soft billows of decency the majority of Americans bestowed upon him. I also hope all the young black Americans who have drawers full of Obama clothing eventually understand that he fucked it for them, all of them. He had no game for his ambitions except ego, no defense against his excesses except prejudice.

Never do that to a good person, and expect them to take that sort of gratuitous insult again.

Obama has fucked a generation of black Americans with his callow insults, for no sane person will ever set themselves up for that kind of race-baiting again.

And that, ultimately, will be the Mighty O's legacy.

Let's face it: Obama's a race pimp, and like any gullible whore, we as a nation are sporting the collective black eye our Main Man gave us, even as he professed to care about us. The only question is when do we walk?



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September 15, 2009

Hate Crime Cultural Difference

I'm sure you've seen this video of a school bus assault on a white student by a black student:

That's a pretty good beat down, but since the victim was looking for a seat, the assault was obviously justified. The Belleville police captain originally thought this might be racially motivated:

"In my estimation, it's racially motivated," said Capt. Don Sax of the Belleville Police Department. He said one reason he had formed this opinion was that many of the students, most of whom were black, yelled their support for the beating.

Then that stupid cracker bastard got the Are you going to believe me or your own lying eyes? memo:

UPDATED, 11:35 a.m. with police captain backtracking on whether attack was racially motivated.

BELLEVILLE -- A Belleville police spokesman now says an incident where a white student was beaten by teen black assailants on a bus “may not be racially motivated.”

“It was premature on my part,” said Belleville Police Capt. Don Sax. “It was my personal and emotional comment after only seeing the video briefly.”

Sax said police interviewed the 17-year-old Belleville West High student. However, he said he was unaware of what the student told police.

Some of the students on the bus yesterday during the incident cheered the beating, the video shows.

Sax said a formal statement would be made available later today.

“After having reviewed the video, it doesn't strike me nearly as racially motivated,” Sax said.

The about-face came this morning as the story made national headlines. Although, Sax said it was purely his review of the video that changed his mind.

You bet, Don. Glad we got that cleared up. How's that pretty daughter of yours? What is she, sixteen now? Hate for anything to happen to her.

Punishment was 10 days suspension, which is practically Abu Ghraib in public school administration circles. Because criminal prosecution would no doubt just add to the problem young minorities face in a harsh, racist world.

I sometimes wonder if I'm not intolerant for insisting on holding everyone to the same high standards of conduct and decency, because I don't see any of the usual leftists or the media crying "hate crime" here. But it's that soft bigotry of low expectations again. Lefties just don't hold Victims of Past Repression (read: solidly brainwashed voting bloc) to any standards whatsoever. It's almost as if they're shrugging their shoulders and saying

What ya gonna do? That's just the way those people are.

The school administrators are certainly tugging their collective forelock in obeisance to political correctness.

The infantilization of the black citizenry of this nation by condescending leftists is a disgusting thing to observe. When wrongs are not adequately punished, and rewards are bestowed with little or no achievement, any human being can be operantly conditioned to know what behavior will reward him with that metaphorical cocaine pellet. Eventually, someone from such a spoiled and doted upon cohort will think he's qualified to be President of the United States merely because of the color his skin, and a gossamer-light curriculum vitae of miniscule "achievements."

Lest anyone think that bus incident is an outlier, an unfortunate and isolated incident ripe for exploitation by white supremacist racists, I believe it's all too common. In my school district blacks are 35% of a bus riding populace of 8,500, but they are 100% of the cause of the eight 911 calls to school buses in the last fourteen months. That's not an outlier, it's an epidemic.

Of course, those eight instances were all black-on-black crimes, which are of even less interest to leftists than black-on-white crime. So everyone looks the other way. Why?

What ya gonna do? That's just the way those people are.

And please don't prosecute them. We need them on the voter rolls. A pack of cigarettes gets them to the polls, and we got some walking around money for after they vote.

Cocaine pellets for pulling the correct lever in our ongoing experiment. And don't worry about navigating the maze. We've taken care of that for you. Just follow the thin red line.

It's a sad state of affairs.

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September 13, 2009

They Got On The Bus


There were an estimated 2 milion people at the Tea Party protest in DC yesterday. As opposed to the 1.8 million who were there in January. I don't know if that 2 million figure is accurate, but if it is, more people showed up in Washington to protest Obama's presidency than showed up to inaugurate it, and they told me that was the Event of the Century.

And about 5 times as many as showed up for the overhyped Million Man March. I wonder if the Tea Party protest will become a Spike Lee Joint, too?

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September 12, 2009

It's Key's Birthday!

She's actually been doing much better today, too. But then we all do on our birthdays, don't we?

It's the ME day.

As a gentleman I will not disclose her age, but let's just say on the day I was born the #1 song was All Shook Up by Elvis Presley, and the hot ride was a Thunderbird with portholes. On the day Key was born the #1 song was I Shot the Sheriff, Eric Clapton version, and the hot ride was a Firebird Trans Am.

That scary fact alone compels me to admit I should probably be getting my ticker run through the paces, although it was wheezing along just fine a year ago according to my mechanic, who checked it with his Pico diagnostics computer.

You may leave birthday notes here or there. Thank ye, ye bloody whelps.

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September 11, 2009

Lest We Forget...

the hydra-like qualities of the enemy:


Of course, when our own president buys in to this sort of tripe, perhaps we've already lost the war. I swear, I'd rather be ruled by Trotsky.

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Key Update

I was very comforted by the fact that so many of you Intrepids enjoyed my tale of lobbyist whores and eyepatch underwear (whatever the hell that is... someone bring some to the next blogmeet. I'll wear it. With my dirndl). I was even more comforted that even more of you suggested I STFU and give you an update on Key. You latter types are known in the blogging business as "game changers."

So: Key is recovering well, albeit slowly. She's still suffering from overall pain and nausea, and occasional migraines, although the migraines are diminishing. She's also extremely weak, keeping her confined to bed for the most part.

You know those stories about people who say "Man, I had no idea I was feeling so bad! Musta been gradual! The day after I gots my stent I felt like a million bucks! Let's go find some strippers!"? I think those stories are made up. Of course, having what is essentially a four-inch piece of flex garden hose shimmied up your arteries would tend to make one ill, and recovery an incremental, baby-steps process. All in all, we consider ourselves lucky, and blessed.

In fact, technology proceeds at such a pace in this incredible nation that only a year or two ago they would have had to crack open the old thorax for such a stent placement. But Dr. Kasirajan was one of a handful of cardiovascular surgeons to perform the clinical trials for these stents, and this procedure, over the last 14 months. For him to be at Emory was akin to opening your garage to find an angel inside. An angel with a brain like David McCallum in The Sixth Finger. And the delicate skilled fingers of Franz Liszt.

It is simply amazing what our health care is capable of. I'm very excited about the next phase, too, wherein we can all read about these medical marvels as they are performed on members of Congress, whilst the rest of us lay forgotten on gurneys by the service elevators, being poked and prodded by little ACORN daemons.

Below the fold is an exciting graphical representation of the stent used:


If I were to create a robotic rooster it might look like this.

Apparently there are already two brands of this stent on the market. Dr. K. went with the Gore. The same people who make Gore-Tex, although I don't believe you'll find these things in bins by the Vibram-soled chukka boots at REI.

Ya'll go over to Key's now and send her some sugar.

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September 9, 2009

Tanning Baby

Stories like this reaffirm my belief in the human race:

Ever wonder what elected officials talk to each other about before committee hearings?

Apparently in Sacramento, it’s about spanking their mistresses. At least that’s the case for California Assemblyman Mike Duvall.

A Republican from Yorba Linda, Duvall bragged to a colleague about his extramarital affairs with not one, but two mistresses during a televised Assembly Appropriations Committee hearing in July. He did not realize his microphone was on.

“So, I am getting into spanking her,” he said in the video aired by Los Angeles TV station KCAL Tuesday night. “Yeah, I like it. I like spanking her. She goes, ‘I know you like spanking me.’ I said, ‘Yeah! Because you’re such a bad girl!’” The 54-year-old assemblyman, who is married with two children, also said his mistress “wears eye-patch underwear” and joked about their age difference.

Those quotes from Duvall are some of the less-graphic ones from the conversation. Others could not be printed in this publication.

That's what I'm talkin' about. Two mistresses, taking the tawse. This guy's a regular Lash Larrup.

The juicy chit chat provides a distraction for California lawmakers as they try to pass weighty legislation, such as a water and prison bills, before the session ends Friday. It also raises ethical questions because Duvall sits on the Utility and Commerce committee, and his trysts were allegedly with a lobbyist from Sempra Energy, according to the OC Weekly. A representative from Sempra Energy said the company was preparing to issue a statement later today.

A lobbyist! That's taking one for the team, girls. In the olden days a lobbyist just had to pay for the girls what was to be whomped. Now an ambitious young woman in the persuasion industry must spend dozens of hours a month in the gym for the privilege of humiliation at the hands of some middle-aged sub-dom sadist, who is asserting his manhood by dint of his authority as a fucking Assemblyman. Why, that title is near as noble as Caesar.

I can't really blame the guy, of course. She was probably stickin' that fine, apple-shaped ass in his face. This part sickened me, though:

Duvall announced his immediate resignation from the Assembly this afternoon. “I am deeply saddened that my inappropriate comments have become a major distraction for my colleagues in the Assembly, who are working hard on the very serious problems facing our state,” he said in a statement. “I have come to the conclusion that it would not be fair to my family, my constituents or to my friends on both sides of the aisle to remain in office. Therefore, I have decided to resign my office, effective immediately, so that the Assembly can get back to work.”

Pussy. He should have fought it out. I'd wager 51% of the electorate are thinking Crazy fucker, but he's got balls. I admire that in an assemblyman.

Ah, well. I have no idea what I, personally, can do for Sempra Energy, or what they can do for me, but I've placed a call. When it comes to hiring, I like the cut of their jib.

I was comforted by the fact the assemblyman was identified as a Republican by the fourth sentence, by the way. If he'd been a Democrat we'd be questioning his party affiliation for months. Or at least until the soon-to-be-ex-Mrs. Duvall's cri-de-coeur tell-all book, That Cocksucker Wronged Me, hits the stands just in time for Christmas.

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September 5, 2009

The Gold Bug

This fellow gives Cubby a run for his money. He's also apparently the choreographer for the bust-a-move:

He's the Un-cola, for sure.

Posted by Velociman at 7:50 PM | Comments (12)

Honey Bunny

My absence from this cesspool of frivolity is neither here nor there, but in way of explanation (because there is always a nexus of the personal with some of us) my Extremely Significant Other Key Monroe, my soul mate, suffered a rupture, an aneurysm, of the aorta Tuesday. It was touch-and-go rotten stuff for 24 hours, but her surgery went extremely well, and I hope to have her home by mid-week.

We were blessed to get her to Emory University, and her surgeon was superlative (he, in fact, having pioneered the stent he deployed). As an old Emory student (School of Law, 1979 - Wandered off the Reservation circa 1981 in Search of Funds) it was very comforting in a time of absolute fear and terror to find solace on that exquisite campus, in intellectual communion with those Godawesome doctors. Harvard is, indeed, the Emory of the North.

I hope to have my honey bunny home by Tuesday, so that I may fuss over her until she is mortally sick of me, and banishes me to the goat shed.

One makes absurd and tenuous and extravagant promises during prayer, when one is seized of The Fear, you know. I intend to keep every one of those desperate promises, too. I might even build an orphanage to boot.

In more quotidian news Georgia was pummelled by Oklahoma State. I used to live vicariously through sports teams and franchises. It was harmless fun, and a bit of voluntary community-building as opposed to the kind I fear will be soon forced upon me at barrell's length. But in the instance I could care less that Georgia's season is over before the first keg even floated. I suppose I'll just have to put all my gambling money on the Emory girls' field hockey team. I'm pretty sure they could beat the Georgia football team, too.

Posted by Velociman at 6:46 PM | Comments (169)

September 2, 2009

Speaking Truth to Power

Ann Coulter:

Liberals never, ever drop a heinous idea; they just change the name. "Abortion" becomes "choice," "communist" becomes "progressive," "communist dictatorship" becomes "people's democratic republic" and "Nikita Khrushchev" becomes "Barack Obama."

That's pretty damned funny.

Posted by Velociman at 11:44 PM | Comments (69)