June 29, 2012

About That School Bus Monitor

I'm really sorry that poor old lady was harassed by those thuggish children. And I am glad they are being punished, and she is $600,000+ the better thanks to a helpful website.

Now that the pleasantries are out of they way, let's discuss her position, her job functions, and her capacity to fulfill those functions.

Most school districts spend the money to place monitors only on special needs buses. The idea being, obviously, that special needs children require a lot of attention on a plethora of issues, from autism to blindness. You need a monitor because the driver obviously cannot handle these functions. What happens, however, is that districts hire these sweet little old ladies, who are ill-equipped to handle the job.

Why? Because the pay is beyond abysmal, and these are the only folks they can often get. And they don't do it for the money. They do it for the medical benefits, because hubby is often at home stricken with pleurisy or a series of debilitating pin strokes. Sad stuff.

I have no idea if this was a special needs bus, or if that district puts monitors on every bus. I do know what the function of a monitor is: maintain order.

Now let us put our emotions aside, and get at the nut of the matter: this old lady was hired to maintain order on a bus, so that the students did not attack each other, or the driver, or cause an accident. She was woefully ill-equipped to do that. And yet she was drawing a paycheck, and benefits, paid for by the taxpayers of that district. And she was worse than ineffectual: she was a dangerously blubbering idiot herself, and as an object of taunting by the students she was actually diminishing the driver's abilities. Now the driver has to worry about the old lady as well as the students.

Good intentions, gone awry? Perhaps. Or yet another example of rancid public sector make-work. I feel sorry for that old lady. But I don't want to pay for her make-believe job that actually increases the danger on that bus. Society is better off with her scrubbing shit swirls out of the toilets at Sam's Club. Although she won't be scoring any sweet $600,000 windfalls there.

I hate to be brutally honest, but why the fuck was that old hen drawing a paycheck on the taxpayers' dime in the first place? She might be wonderful nurturing a deaf six-year-old, but that's not what she was being paid to do. And the transportation director who placed her on that bus with those hoods should be fired as an incompetent ass, as well.

Here's an experiment: I reckon I could get the young thuggees across the street to slap me around while I'm walking my cat on a leash, and call me Forrest Gump and Slingblade and fag. I would cower dutifully, take my pummeling, then post my video. Some fool will start me a website, make me $600,000, and I will gladly pay the thuggees a grand a pop for their troubles.

That's how the viral world works, apparently. And how the public sector works. It's a piss-poor world, people.

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The Limbo Court

In re the ACA ruling: first, let's look at the what of it. Yes, Roberts put a very tiny manacle on the progressive abuses of the Commerce Clause. That's verdant territory, however, flush with game. It undoes no past misdeeds, and future legislation will merely skirt the issue through skillful wording. This aspect is nothing to me.

As to the tax labeling, I understand Roberts strives to hew to the axiom that the Court should infer the constitutionality of legislation where possible. However, every bloody Democrat in the land screamed for a year that the mandate was a penalty, yes, but not a tax. Not a tax. Not a tax. If this unanimous approach to passage cannot be construed as the intent of the legislators, what does? Oh. Roberts' determination that no matter what a person says, he knows what they truly mean. As we all know, the Democrats were lying their fucking asses off the whole time, because plan B in the defense of the law, in court, was that if the Commerce Clause did not prevail, then, by God, that mandate is a tax. But Roberts was bound to construe their intent by their words and deeds at the time the legislation was debated and enacted.

This is akin to saying if I can't put my penis in you then you must put yourself around my penis. Same outcome, different causality.

As to the why of the opinion, we may never know. My instinct is that Roberts has long felt the Court was compromised, considered political. Mostly from Bush v Gore, but also from some of his own opinions, including Citizens United. He wanted to show some balance to fend off those charges. What I believe he failed to take into account was the fact that his opinion was so convoluted, his argument so weak, that it is seen by all sides as a political opinion. For better or worse. Going forward, I don't think anyone will ever view a Roberts opinion without viewing it through the prism of this weakness of his. No matter which side he comes down on for the rest of his tenure, and it will be lengthy, the losing side will always consider him a craven little fucker who caved to political pressure from one side of the aisle or the other.

Roberts was worried about his legacy. He has one now. I don't think he is going to like it. I didn't know white boys could bend so low to get under the limbo stick, but Jack Roberts be nimble and be quick. Those skills just won't serve him well in the years ahead.

Another thing: if Roberts thought this would ingratiate him with progressives, and get him invited to the right cocktail parties, he's wrong. The left will still hate him. He's a Republican. And now the Republicans hate him, too. No more cocktail parties for him. I'm sure he doesn't care now, but he will begin to when his wife starts carping on him like the goddam Furies because she is staying home all the time, a dirty Cinderella, missing the parties. John should enjoy his children, because he won't be having any more.

Having said that, with a bit of the tongue in cheek (no tongue in any cheek for you, John!) the greatest tragedy of this fiasco is the betrayal of his fellow travelers. Thomas, Scalia, Alito obviously feel betrayed. But when you have Tony Kennedy apoplectic at your liberal betrayal that's saying something. The tragedy is that the liberals will caucus, and the conservatives will caucus, but neither will invite Roberts to join them. He is nought but an untrustworthy spy to both camps. They will use him where necessary to bolster their positions, but he will not be trusted. He will never be trusted by another justice.

Any justice can make bad law. But it takes an especial weakling to so thoroughly destroy his credibility with his peers.

An aside: why is it when a 5-4 decision breaks left it is a sign of righteous, holy jurisprudence, but when it breaks right it is a sign of craven, venal politics?

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June 28, 2012

"If You Like Your Healthplan, You Can Go Fuck Yourself"

Some overtime has prevented me from reading the opinion and dissent in the Obamacare case. So I really don't have a wholly formed opinion. The short nut of it, from what I can gather, is that John Roberts reversed himself at the last minute, so that Kennedy's concurring opinion had to be crabbed into a dissent, and Democratic Georgetown cocktail party invitations will now be delivered by liveried Negroes to Chez Roberts.

The first blush has me absolutely stunned that the Court would hold that the individual mandate is constitutional predicated upon the fact that it is a tax. Every Democrat in North America swore when pleading for its passage that it was not a tax. Apparently John Roberts' lust for wagyu beef outweighs the purported legislative intent of the crafters of the ACA in the scales of justice.

There is more, so much more, wrapped around this turd of an opinion. But I must study it before rendering myself even more ridiculous than my normal levels of functional retardation, manifested.

Mea culpa: I took both semesters of constitutional law at Emory Law School, so this isn't crawling back on the turnip truck. But I'm not an attorney, and 90% of practicing attorneys don't know jack shit about constitutional law. Hell, some chief justices apparently struggle with it. So my eventual opinion will be ill-formed, passionate, and ugly. In other words, bench-worthy.

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June 23, 2012

The Po Po Came Tonight

It was a four-car alarm, but much ado about nothing. We on the north side of the skreet, in the condos, are law-abiding citizens. Half are white, half are black, we fish together, barbecue together, go to church together.

Across the skreet are apartments. Mostly African-American. Things get frisky over there of a Saturday. It is generally two women, who get into unseemly screaming matchs, both with noobs upon their hips. Their menfolk let it escalate until they are nose to nose, then pull them back. Only to let it escalate again. It is the human equivalent of dog fighting.

Anywhats, I was sitting in the back yard when I heard the rumble begin. I filled my wine glass and strolled outside to watch the fireworks. As did my neighbors. It is one of those bonding things that brings us, of all colors and persuasions, together. He brings me a filthy bass he caught in a subdivision lake, which I promptly pitch over the fence, and I give him Ron Paul leaflets, which he promptly pitches over his.

My theory is you cannot appreciate The Other without mercilessly fucking with them first. And allowing them to fuck with you. Hey: some of those bass have phosphate boils on them. I know that he doesn't really want me to eat them, the black bastard. Nor will he read the Ron Paul tracts. I certainly haven't.

But: a rather normal Saturday anger session between two chicken-headed gals brought four squad cars. In the past our heckling has cleared the table. Now we have police, and with that the possibility of criminal records for the girls we love to watch fight.

Neighborman and I were compelled to intervene, and establish the chicken-headed womens' bona fides, so that the Po-lice might extricate themselves, and we might let the games re-begin.

I reckon if I distribute some Kraftwerk CD's amongst the hoi polloi I might gain some traction. But that is doubtful. Any gift from a white guy carries with it the stigma of Jerry Sandusky at this point. They know I'm white. God forbid they think I am a Yankee.

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June 22, 2012

Game Plan

I'm not sure who you are voting for in November. Not sure I care. I will say this: I wasn't a Romney guy. But he is exhibiting a team of professionals. They are assassins. And I mean that in the good way. They aren't ideologues, glutted with mendacity, like the Democrats.

Every time Obama attempts a trick or ploy to take the eye off the economy the hoi polloi take the bait. But Romney's team already has a response, generally well crafted.

This is genius stuff. No one has run a campaign this focused, this dead-on since JFK in 1960.

Skippy knows. He may not like it, but he knows. This is a well-oiled machine, and Romney will take Obama to the woodshed every chance he gets.

I'm starting to get a hard on for this guy. He understands the stakes. And he plays to win.

Tomorrow: my feelings on Mormons. They leeched onto us. My family is filthy with them. And they are all adorable. Especially the one who is going to punch Barack Obama in his nut space.

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June 20, 2012

It's Showtime

Electing to invoke executive privilege on the Fast and Furious facta must have been an enormously hard decision for Obama to make. I would submit it is the only hard decision he has ever had to make in his wispy life. He is risking his entire presidency and reelection on some seemingly quotidian correspondence. Therefore it must be explosive.

If Obama had been executive material he would have fired Eric Holder two years ago. But brother blood is apparently thicker than the thin material that courses through my veins.

A quick aside on "executive privilege," which my brother courteously reminded me of today: it don't exist. It is an extra-constitutional device Eisenhower concocted during the Army and McCarthy hearings to protect national security issues. Nixon invoked it a couple of times, Clinton 14, as I recall, one for each blow job I suppose, and Bush 2.0 6 times.

I can understand a president attempting to protect national security. I cannot understand a president using executive privilege to thwart a constitutionally authorized investigation of Congress.

Oh, the sweat. The atmosphere must be foul in the situation room, the armpits dank. This in unconditional war upon the Constitution, and Barack Obama is Lenin.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I believe one Barack Hussein Obama is a desperate man. I can relate. I once bought two rounds of shooters for a table of eight ladies in the hopes of winning the approving eye of one particularly comely lass. That didn't work out. I did manage to score the affections of a rather heiferish girl in the process, initially unrequited by me. But liquor poured, and quid became pro that night. I must confess she wasn't all that bad upon eventual inspection, and was right enthusiastic. I was probably the weak link, to be honest, owing to my prior fiendish devotion to John Barleycorn. The point is, though, I managed my expectations. And, to put it in more common parlance, although this pains me, I fucked the fat chick. So be it. I can step up.

Which is to say, Obama can play this out, but he's no gambler. He's never had to put his nuts on the line. His tells are legendary, his hubris etched upon the wall of public opinion. He is quite unable to hide his emotions, or his strategy. It will only get worser and worser for him.

There is that fine line we must adhere to. Let the man destroy himself, and keep the pressure up. Or as Nathan Bedford Forrest called it, "the skeer." But he must crumble after the convention, lest we allow Joan of Orc, the Hillary, to resurrect the unspeakable horror that is the modern Democratic Party.

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June 16, 2012

Avast, Ye Ancients

Why do the elderly get so agitated when entitlement reform is discussed? No one, no politician, of any stripe, has ever attempted to reform Social Security or Medicare in a manner that would impact the current crop of retirees. Ain't happening. Any reforms would most necessarily impact the Boomers, who have likewise paid into the Ponzi scheme for thirty and more years. The Gen X and younger crowd would also take a haircut, but they wouldn't have paid in like the Boomers have. At least that is what most reforms I have seen from both sides have proposed.

But it is always the oldsters that get in a panic. I suppose because CNN and MSNBC is all that is piped into the dayrooms of their hellholes in The Villages. So that they are exploited by the cynical Democrats who would use them for base purposes. Therefore they get exercised, their blood pressure spikes, and they are dutifully herded onto luxo air-conditioned buses to go vote that latest impudent congressman out of office. Because he dared to fix an obviously broken system.

These are the same people who get exercised when they change out the carrots for strained peas at the cafeteria. When exercise ball time is changed from 3:30 to 3:45. Therefore I would submit that it is a toxic brew of entitlement, senility, and good old-fashioned goddam crankiness that makes them do this.

Old man: you aren't going to take it in the shorts. We are. So get the fuck out of the way, and reserve your vote for the sewage referendum. It is also important that we replace the crumbling infrastructure so that we may more efficiently dispose of your disgusting bodily waste.

No one is taking away your fucking Social Security. They are taking away MY Social Security. If it is not reformed. So get out of the way, you senile old goat, and reserve your vote for the nice colored fellow, who you like because he reminds you of another nice fellow who used to shine your shoes in the American Building in 1958. Avast, you senile old fuck.

I call it the Unsweet Spot. That age in life where one is simultaneously taking both child and parent to the woodshed once in a while for a little skratening out.

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I'm rather content to let things play out in Syria. And by content, I do not mean I am immune to the suffering there. But I ain't Rambo, and I ain't Albert Schweitzer. Nothing I can do for them.

Various earlier instances of the "Arab Spring" show us what happens when we get involved. We had a couple of rather desultory allies in Mubarak and Qaddafi, of all people. They gone now. In their place? Who knows?

If enough Syrians get tired of the eye doctor they will get rid of the eye doctor. If enough Syrian soldiers get tired of killing their own they were perform AK-47 Lasik on Bashar themselves. No successful revolution was ever fomented from without. Let's face it: building a hospital for some goatfucking tribesman isn't going to endear you to him. It's going to infuriate him when said hospital provides him a litany of his sexually transmitted diseases.

Ignorance is bliss, damn it. Respect it. In addition, Syria has nothing to exploit. If my country is going to expend lives and money (and, no, I refuse to say the hackneyed "blood and treasure") to free a peoples from their current mad man, I would expect some reciprocity in the way of crude oil, if they have any, or girls for the mail order bride/slave trade if they ain't got any oil.

Syria has zip squat buttfuckto. They have sands, with no tar. The only thing digging there will uncover is Saddam's WMD's. And the women in next door Lebanon are far more beautiful. And often Christian, although in the world of the white slave trade that can actually be a detriment. Nonetheless, as Milton said, "Chains do not bind thee to me, they bind thee to the bedposts."

I think that was Milton. Possibly Chuck Manson. My notes are old. At any rate, to the gist and gizzard of the matter: let Syria be Syria. If it gets too bad we can always send in Clooney to bore the bastards to death. Although I do have a bit of astigmatism in my right eye I would like Bashar to take a look at before he is vivisectioned, and dragged through the streets, with unclean curs fighting over his entrails.

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June 14, 2012

The State of the Art

Look, I didn't create the world, and I actually have damned little to say about it. And I'm not even going to comment on this, except to say I would love to share a few Bulls with this guy.

From Ty Ty, who tries to keep his uncle engaged in the mysterious art of self-reflection.

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June 12, 2012

Hooligan Penguins

It seems a base-camp member of Con Scott's ill-fated 1912 trip to the South Pole found something to bemuse him while the expeditionary force met their doom on the ice: depraved, rapist penguins.

Levick apparently let his Edwardian sensibilities get the best of him, and did not report the rape of frozen corpses, the rampant sodomy, and the pedophilia of these amusing Adelie penguins.

I'm sure Stephen Maturin would have found these creatures of great interest. I do, as well.

In reality I reckon these penguins had a small window of sexual opportunity, were adolescent, and, given the harsh environment, primordially hard-wired to fuck anything that moved. And very quickly. Kind of like Frank Booth in Blue Velvet.

Given the federal government's wont to throw money at a moment, I would like $2.3 million to explore this phenomenon more closely. My research vessel, of course, would need several thousand rubber gloves, and a Starbuck's on Deck 5.

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June 11, 2012

The Shine Also Rises, The Sun Always Sets


Manny Pacquiao apparently pummelled his opponent senseless the other night, and lost on a split decision. The "winner" exited in a wheelchair. Now the sports world is up in arms about the supposed skullduggery in the boxing world, that most noble of sports. Fixing a fight? The horror. Lookit: boxing hasn't been honest since the Marquess of Queensbury was blowing Jem Mace through a tavern loo gloryhole in the Liberties of the Savoy back in the day.

It's quite simple, really. Affirmative action. Bradley was spotted 10 melanin points prior to the fight. Pacquiao was additionally deducted 3 points for being a damned Papist.

It's not good old follow-the-money boxing corruption anymore. It's new politically-correct boxing corruption. Please try to keep up.

And: Pacquiao will have to literally execute Bradley and Mayweather in his next two fights to win even split decisions.

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June 2, 2012

I Am In Need

If Mattel could turn this


into this


I'm reasonably certain I would purchase several. After all, the original Barbie idea came from Germany. I see no reason why a Death Camp Kommandant Barbie wouldn't sell well.

Also: no one is filling that Shirley Stoler role these days, by the way. Someone needs to step up to the plate.

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Cue the Muzak



I had to get that picture lower on the mainpage. Even I have to hold my meals down.

And here's Scarlett Johansson's cleavage to cleanse your palate.


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Unto Me A Child Shall Be Born


The Mutant called to say his new boy is doing fine, and the proud mom is resting. Thanks for asking. A picture? Certainly.


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June 1, 2012

The Strange Case of Mr. Clinton

I am not much given to conspiracy theories, as such, other than the obvious conspiracy that venal alien forces are preventing women from admiring the beauty that is my rather sparse and diffident chest hair, but here's a thing.

Bill Clinton actually said nice things about Mitt Romney. BJ is not Barack Obama. Obama has a rather Tourette's Syndrome problem when it comes to politics. He cannot help himself, and eventually will sputter a Bill Ayers or Frank Marshall Davis line. Again, he just can't help himself.

Clinton? He's like that girlfriend you had. You fucking hate him, but you respect his insane genius, you want to have that goddam beer with him, and discuss a reach around. Okay. Maybe that was a roomie. You're a prevert either way.

But someone needs to challenge Clinton. If for no other reason than to ask him if he isn't about to put his wife into play at the convention. I can certainly see Billy doing what he can to roil the stock markets, to persuade influental donors to hold back a bit, to put this entire thing into a quandary.

Do you want to see Romney, on his steed, lancing a battered and hapless Obama? Or do you want to see a Hillary, rising from the ashes as a goddess, snatching the torch from the fallen Obama, and riding it to glory?

Average under 25 voter: hell, they told me to vote for the black guy last time to make history. Now I gotta vote for the white lady to make history again. Okay. Lemme go shit on that cop cruiser. I'll be right back.

All that shit about a brokered Republican convention? Pshaw. It will be a brokered Charlotte convention. And all a Democrat cares about is where his next free biscuit is coming from. There will be no loyalty for Obama. He'll just be the nigger that's in their way to more free biscuits. His time will be over.

Can Romney beat Hillary? Especially an I came into this to save us all Hillary?

I don't know.

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Hell Day

Is what Drudge is calling it. Obama was slammed by incredibly poor unemployment, new jobs, and stock market news. The best takeaway?

Friday's jobs numbers caught the White House and the Obama campaign by surprise. Polls show the economy consistently remains voters' top concern before the November election.

How could this take anyone by surprise? It is more of the same we've seen for the entirety of his presidency. Only a coccooned narcissist or a goddam fool (or both) could have failed to see this coming.

The good news? This is possibly the worst day of Obama's presidency. The better news? This will seem like a magical trip to Hogwarts to Obama when next month's numbers come out. Also of import: Mitt Romney seems to enjoy punching Barack Obama in his pussified face.

As a Marginally Employed American, I surely don't like bad economic news. But it's better to drink the castor oil now, and evacuate this morass into the Chinese porcelain in the short term than exist through four more years of crony capitalism, vote-buying, lunatic economic policies, racial and class grievances, and socialist bullying.

Hell, if Romney wins and the economy ticks up I might even be able to fulfill my new dream of starting a mail-order bride business from Wal-Mart parking lots.

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Mr. Ghetto

I've got squat for thoughts tonight, but this spins the old magneto:

I believe I've finally lost the last vestigial traces of racism in my bloodstream. At least in the arteries that matter.

From Ace. Of course.

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