The Postal Service wants more money because it's going broke. I don't mind forking over another 2 cents to mail something (because I'm a 21st Century guy, and I actually mail things like...maybe twice a year), but at some point you have to start wondering just why we even have a Post Office at all.
After all, this is an Electronic Age, where e-mail is pretty much free, cell phones, computers and Blackberries a are ubiquitous, and if you're a real geek, you can get a bunch of iPhone Apps that will turn your handy little piece of Electronic Heroin into a lean, mean machine that can do calculus, allow you to watch television, read a book, and maybe even fillet a panda, if you need to. Who needs the anachronistic process of writing an address on an envelope, licking something that tastes like a mixture of those black jelly beans that no one eats and ass, and walking to the mailbox anymore?
Why, it's not as if my mail carrier actually delivers much of anything to my home anymore. I get three bills (gas, electric and cable), and the rest of it is stuff I can most certainly do without; catalogs I never asked for, direct mailings from the local politicians, those Val-U-Pacs full of mostly-useless coupons from local businesses that apparently can't get customers without a coupon for 10% off carpet cleaning on odd-numbered Thursdays only, or without offering a free set of steak knives that always break the first time you use them for every 50 pound bag of World War II-surplus no-name brand dog food you buy (I guess because once the food kills the dog, those knives might come in handy?). Same for my gas and cable bills...mostly ads.
I would guesstimate that for those three actually useful pieces of mail I get every month, I probably get somewhere between four and six pounds of useless paper and cardboard that I never wanted, never asked for, and simply toss away. And even those three useful presents I get are stuffed with all sorts of advertising and completely inane shit, which means the guy who lugs the mail around all day probably has 90% of all that wear and tear on his back thrown away.
Take my electric bill, for example; Con Edison is very thoughtful and sends me a three-page bill every month (it needs to be three pages because two of them are simply a rundown of the ass-rape taxes that the Fed'ral Gubmint and NY State have so thoughtfully put upon my energy use), and the third is taken up by those lovely bar-and-pie graphs giving me -- a complete doofus apparently -- a handy visual aid to show me just exactly how I'm getting the Big Purple Electric Shaft every month.
The other six pages of nonsense, printed in color no less, are devoted to advertisements and public pronouncements...usually about how Con Edison is dedicated to saving the environment, although not by saving trees, it seems, and those "Helpful Hints" like "Turn Out the Lights When you Leave the Room..it saves Energy!". My mother only shouted that at me all my life, Assholes, so lay off. Maybe there are Con Ed customers somewhere who weren't hen-pecked or developing common sense when they were children, and somehow it fell to the Electric Company to fill this void? That's when they aren't hectoring me to donate to some charity, letting me know that I can reach a Customer Service Representative (three lies for the price of one, complete with photo of a model who is just to awesomely gorgeous to work for Con Ed. Sure, entice the lonely, chronic-masturbator-losers out there to call by putting a pretty face on the bill. I wonder how many a day call wanting to talk to The Chick in My Electric Bill?) 24-hours a day, and reminders that you should Run Like Hell if You Smell Gas and Call a Professional, and a friendly reminder that you just might want to stop looking for the source of the mysterious gas odor in your darkened basement with your Zippo lighter aflame.
I can't, for the life of me, figure out where all the catalogs come from. I figured it was from the online services or utility companies that I use selling my address as part of a mailing list. Now, for some reason I can't discern, I get an actual J.C.Penny catalog just about every other week, and it's not the small one, either. I never shop at J.C. Penny. Radio Shack has my address, yessirrreee, and, no--- I didn't give it them. Lilian Vernon? What the fuck am I going to do with a Lilian Vernon catalog? I hate fucking cats, and I don't need a tea cozy, a hand-knitted dick warmer, or a genuine Lebanese Straw doormat with my dog's photograph silk-screened upon it under the caption "Grrrrrreeetings!". I don't have a dog, for one thing, and the only Lebanese anything that will ever enter my house will probably have D-cups, been converted to Christianity, and possessed of absolutely no gag reflex, whatsoever. Donald Trump, would you please stop asking me to feed your slot machines? No, I don't care if you have Rich Little and Dion and the Belmonts playing the Taj this weekend -- I'm not making the trip! And a man with your cash can get a decent wig, already!
I mean, do we really need all this stuff? It seems to me that a Postal Worker is really expending a lot of effort to hand-deliver information that is already on a website somewhere, and he's actually only expensively delivering absolute shyte. Wouldn't it just be cheaper to encourage those still getting a paper bill to use the website (something I'm about to start doing more often), where they can get that info and conduct their business, too? No envelope, no printing costs, no energy wasted shipping bills back and forth, no Lilian Vernon, no Lebanese, no Pizza Hut or Domino's special offers -- Pizza Hut? Dominos? This is New York. Anyone who eats at Pizza Hut when we have the best pizza on the fucking planet should be made into a Lilian Vernon Doormat -- just a Happy Postman who doesn't have to lug all that crap around; forests spared, gasoline saved, fewer trucks on the roads, fewer delays at the airports.
I mean, it's not as if the Post Office actually makes money, anyway. It's a freakin' Federally-protected MONOPOLY ... and it's still broke.
So why does it persist? Why hasn't the Electronic Age eliminated such an organization?
Primarily, because there's still a significant percentage of people in this country who aren't computer literate. These are mostly Old Folks -- who won't oblige us and die already and spare us the expense of supporting them well after their productive value to society is long past. Mostly, they remember FDR fondly (suckers!), and will tell you the tale, ad nauseum, about how they walked to school through five miles of foot-high snow, uphill both ways, without shoes (because it was the Depression, you know), everything cost a nickle (you could get a lung transplant for a nickle back then, it seems), and they never mastered anything more complicated than a rotary telephone. Which they still have. That's when they aren't ruminating upon the virtues of Epsom Salts and Jimmy Stewart, or drifting into Alzheimer's.
These people will need to be accommodated, and worse, they'll need to be accommodated in the manner to which they have been accustomed, which means a pile of dead trees delivered by an overpaid federal employee who collects, sorts and hauls absolute crap all day for a living. Asking these people to adapt automatically encompasses huge problems (not least of which, is their predictable, full-throated menstrual fury about why is it things need to change?), primarily one of expense and convenience; these people might not own a computer or cell phone, wouldn't know how to work one, can't be bothered to learn how, and would probably scream to a Congresscritter who will sponsor a Free-PC-For-Your-About-to-Drop-Dead-Anyday-Great-Gram bill.
Of course, blind people will need paper bills printed in Braille. Accountants will scream for paper hardcopies, and let's not forget the one, true advantage that paper has over a computer -- it never breaks.
The second problem is one of security. I would probably do everything online if it wasn't so ridiculously-easy to hack a computer or cellphone. The average user is dumb as a fucking stump about internet security, and even the security companies themselves routinely have their security breached (mostly by ex-Employees that they've screwed over. They never learn!). Until encryption software becomes user-friendly, hacker-resistant, and cheap for the majority of knuckleheads out there, most will still receive a bill. Even large corporations who can presumably get the best-and-brightest to hack-proof their systems will suffer security breaches (most of them already do, because you can't hire the best-and-brightest through a second-rate service that you've never laid eyes on in Mumbai, even if it is cheaper than hiring Americans).
Of course, we could stimulate the development of such software and systems, if we just made an effort to do so. I don't know why environMENTALists aren't pushing for online bill payment every goddamned day, even above Windmills, Global Warming/Freezing and The Virtues of Hemp , just to save trees and prevent air pollution. They'd be a damned sight more useful in this endeavor, and they'd actually have some things they've never had before --- a point, and an achievable goal.
Naturally, the reason why we still have a Post Office is (everyone together, now!)....Political!
The Post Office is a super-duper federal jobs program for nose-picking dolts who just couldn't qualify for that top-flight janitorial or fry cook job. Post offices employ thousands of unionized people-who-know-how-to-look-busy-when-they're-just-jerking-off, and those jobs are located in Congressional Districts that come with politicians attached to them, like ticks. The unions are often generous with the campaign cash and "volunteers". Closing a Post Office anywhere is an activity akin to suggesting that we pass a decree certifying that blind, three-legged kittens are an excellent source of protein and Vitamin C, and an excellent winter fuel. People will suggest that you be strung up for even daring to say something like that. There have probably been more Presidents assassinated than Post Offices closed, I'd reckon. So long as there's overpaid-and-otherwise-unemployable unionized government douchebags doing a completely-superseded-by-technology job, there will be politicians who will protect them.
Which means someone will have to pay more for a monopoly system that's run like a Chinese fire drill, is always broke, and that fewer and fewer people actually use. Twenty years from now, we'll all have microchips in our heads (or something) that will connect us to the internet and e-mail, and all sorts of other shit, and some dumbass in a blue polyester uniform that hasn't changed since the1950's will still be dropping a shitload of useless paper on my doorstep, and delivering Delinquency Notices to People Who No Longer Live Here. I mean, it's already getting to the point that when someone says "Check the mailbox", they automatically go to the Blackberry to start looking for e-mail. Within a very short span of years it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that old-fashioned mailboxes will once again become valuable...as antiques.
So, I say let the Post Office have it's two cents now; but someone should just have the balls to finally suggest that, within a decade, we may not need it anymore, and then begin the process of dismantling a quaint reminder of days gone by. The occupation of "Letter Carrier" should soon be going the way of the Barber-Surgeon, Town Crier and Witch Doctor. If someone in a position of authority actually did this sort of thing-- planned the slow demise of the Post Office over time -- it might even serve as a form of economic stimulus; DHL and FedEx already do it better than the Post Office, and the technical problems of securing personal data and networks, and of protecting financial information, would draw a ton of investment money back into the Technology field. Telecommunications would experience new growth. People could be put back to work in the Private Sector, rather than the Public One. The Unions would be struck a death blow, and it might even serve as a model of how the Private sector might eventually obviate the need for many government services altogether, saving the taxpayer billions!
Which is why no one will do it, naturally. And why five years from now when the Post Office isn't even delivering the Lilian Vernon catalog anymore, the price of a First-Class stamp will be $11.95.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Blogger is Upgefuckt Again...
Blogger seems to be having issues with handling replies to posts. Not sure when this started, seems to be a common issue for many blogs this day. If you've posted a reply to something in the last 24 hours or so, it may not appear, even if I have "okayed" it.
So don't take it as me ignoring you. It's just Blogger (but hey, the damned thing is free, so what do you expect?).
So don't take it as me ignoring you. It's just Blogger (but hey, the damned thing is free, so what do you expect?).
Fell Off the Wagon This Weekend...
You know, I once had a serious problem with booze. We're not talking about the kind of drinking one might call "social", but with the kind one typically associates with "Jesus Christ, this guy has a Death Wish" drinking. I pretty much spent my 20's in an alcoholic swirl, and looking back on it all, I'm surprised I even lived through it. Back in those days, it was nothing to put away a fifth of Canadian Club, or spend a day with my Best Friends -- Jack, Jim, and Old Grandad. Once I had discovered the Joys of the Margarita (the straight-up kind, with a salted glass, and not that girly, frozen shit), I can promise you that I had nights where how I managed to get home safely was a complete mystery -- it's almost as if I just pointed the car in the right direction and it found it's own way home. I once actually set a Tavern record and downed 18 whiskey highballs in one sitting...and still drove home that night.
Yes, there was plenty of drunk driving in those days, too (no accidents, though). In fact, I can tell you that I was given Field Sobriety Tests on at least four occasions -- and passed every one of them with flying colors, garnering little more than a warning to be careful, and I can't tell you how in the world I managed that. Every time I was under the impression that THIS time was the one where they finally would nail me, because even I had to admit I was fucking soused. A night on the town routinely came with a minimum $300 bar tab, and I was on a first-name basis with about 50% of the bartenders in New York City. Drinking all night and then pulling a 12-hour workday tomorrow, with little more than 20 minutes of sleep and a shower, was not uncommon.
Of course, back then I didn't know about depression and obsessive compulsive disorders and their connection to/with alcoholism, and whatnot. I just felt jollier and more confident when I was plastered -- not to mention that I had suddenly became incredibly charming to the ladies -- and I was able to pull it all off. They call that being a "functioning alcoholic", and my level of "function" must have been off the charts. Until that one evening when I was about 27. That night is still a blur. All I remember is that I awoke, in the driver's seat, in my driveway, with the engine running, my foot on the brake, and the car in gear. I have no idea how long I had been sleeping in that precarious position. That and the intense pain in the middle of my forehead, like someone had driven a nail between my eyes, was enough to convince me that this was probably a good time to stop drinking.
And I did. Mostly. I never got totally smashed again, and I (almost) never went past four drinks a night ever again...except that week where I managed to keep an English country inn in business practically all by myself. But there was a wedding involved in that one, so...I pretty much kept booze, except for the occasional beer, or (more rarely) two or three drinks here-and-there, out of my life. That was before 9/11, of course, when the boozing started all over again, but was quickly reigned in once more because Vodka and Tonics don't play nicely with Xanax.
I hadn't had a serious bout of drinking for perhaps six, maybe seven years...until Saturday.
I was invited to backyard barbecue by one of my sister's neighbors. It turns out that I had been invited because I make the best fucking sangria you've ever tasted in your entire life. And it's true: I can make a sangria that would make a Spaniard cry and curse his Mother. The ladies at this party had a taste for Sangria, and one of my sister's friends remarked that "no one does it like Matt...call him!", and off I went to mix up five gallons of the stuff for them.
That's where it started. One of the problems with making a really good Sangria is all the tasting you invariably need to do to get it just right. Particularly when you use my recipe, which calls for a generous dose of brandy. Anyways, as soon as I showed up, I was handed a beer, which somehow became six or seven. Then it was Sangria, again, another six or seven large cups. I should have stopped right there, but they broke out the schnapps and assorted liqueurs, and I was pretty much wasted and not even thinking about it. I must have done another four or five shots of Who-The-Fuck-Knows after that. The walk --more like a zig-zag stagger home -- thankfully short, must have looked like an old-time game of Frogger to an outside observer.
And for the first time in perhaps 20 years -- I was sicker than hell. Puking like a dog. Heaving so heavily that my abs still hurt two days later. Totally useless the next day, too, and unable to even look at food. I spent my 4th of July on my living room couch, gulping water and thinking "right now would be a good time for the Douchebag Police to come and shoot you, and put you out of your misery, Dumbass." I was ashamed of myself, and mightily pissed...I should know better. My nephews saw the whole thing, and they thought their drunken Uncle was something funny. Some example I set, huh? The oldest decided to be a wiseass and ask me how my old behind handled my hangover. That made me even more embarrassed and pissed off. They look up to me, and I love the shit out of them; they should not have seen any of that. I let them down.
The next time someone asks me to make them some Sangria, I'm telling them to take a long walk on a short pier (I'll just give them the fucking recipe and wish them luck). I was offered a beer today -- temps hit high 90's, and, boy, would that have been good! -- and politely refused. I'm thinking I'm going to need a month to recover from Saturday, and I'm not taking anything harder than a Coke, if I can help it, from now on.
I'm getting too old for this shit.
Yes, there was plenty of drunk driving in those days, too (no accidents, though). In fact, I can tell you that I was given Field Sobriety Tests on at least four occasions -- and passed every one of them with flying colors, garnering little more than a warning to be careful, and I can't tell you how in the world I managed that. Every time I was under the impression that THIS time was the one where they finally would nail me, because even I had to admit I was fucking soused. A night on the town routinely came with a minimum $300 bar tab, and I was on a first-name basis with about 50% of the bartenders in New York City. Drinking all night and then pulling a 12-hour workday tomorrow, with little more than 20 minutes of sleep and a shower, was not uncommon.
Of course, back then I didn't know about depression and obsessive compulsive disorders and their connection to/with alcoholism, and whatnot. I just felt jollier and more confident when I was plastered -- not to mention that I had suddenly became incredibly charming to the ladies -- and I was able to pull it all off. They call that being a "functioning alcoholic", and my level of "function" must have been off the charts. Until that one evening when I was about 27. That night is still a blur. All I remember is that I awoke, in the driver's seat, in my driveway, with the engine running, my foot on the brake, and the car in gear. I have no idea how long I had been sleeping in that precarious position. That and the intense pain in the middle of my forehead, like someone had driven a nail between my eyes, was enough to convince me that this was probably a good time to stop drinking.
And I did. Mostly. I never got totally smashed again, and I (almost) never went past four drinks a night ever again...except that week where I managed to keep an English country inn in business practically all by myself. But there was a wedding involved in that one, so...I pretty much kept booze, except for the occasional beer, or (more rarely) two or three drinks here-and-there, out of my life. That was before 9/11, of course, when the boozing started all over again, but was quickly reigned in once more because Vodka and Tonics don't play nicely with Xanax.
I hadn't had a serious bout of drinking for perhaps six, maybe seven years...until Saturday.
I was invited to backyard barbecue by one of my sister's neighbors. It turns out that I had been invited because I make the best fucking sangria you've ever tasted in your entire life. And it's true: I can make a sangria that would make a Spaniard cry and curse his Mother. The ladies at this party had a taste for Sangria, and one of my sister's friends remarked that "no one does it like Matt...call him!", and off I went to mix up five gallons of the stuff for them.
That's where it started. One of the problems with making a really good Sangria is all the tasting you invariably need to do to get it just right. Particularly when you use my recipe, which calls for a generous dose of brandy. Anyways, as soon as I showed up, I was handed a beer, which somehow became six or seven. Then it was Sangria, again, another six or seven large cups. I should have stopped right there, but they broke out the schnapps and assorted liqueurs, and I was pretty much wasted and not even thinking about it. I must have done another four or five shots of Who-The-Fuck-Knows after that. The walk --more like a zig-zag stagger home -- thankfully short, must have looked like an old-time game of Frogger to an outside observer.
And for the first time in perhaps 20 years -- I was sicker than hell. Puking like a dog. Heaving so heavily that my abs still hurt two days later. Totally useless the next day, too, and unable to even look at food. I spent my 4th of July on my living room couch, gulping water and thinking "right now would be a good time for the Douchebag Police to come and shoot you, and put you out of your misery, Dumbass." I was ashamed of myself, and mightily pissed...I should know better. My nephews saw the whole thing, and they thought their drunken Uncle was something funny. Some example I set, huh? The oldest decided to be a wiseass and ask me how my old behind handled my hangover. That made me even more embarrassed and pissed off. They look up to me, and I love the shit out of them; they should not have seen any of that. I let them down.
The next time someone asks me to make them some Sangria, I'm telling them to take a long walk on a short pier (I'll just give them the fucking recipe and wish them luck). I was offered a beer today -- temps hit high 90's, and, boy, would that have been good! -- and politely refused. I'm thinking I'm going to need a month to recover from Saturday, and I'm not taking anything harder than a Coke, if I can help it, from now on.
I'm getting too old for this shit.
The Good News, The Bad News...
A few months back, I posted here that I was suspected of having contracted sarcoidosis, and that the disease may have been linked to my proximity to Ground Zero on 9/11, and the smoke and debris which persisted for months and years afterwards.
Well, the bad news is that, yes -- I do have sarcoidosis. Confirmed. Nailed down. No question about it.
The really good news is that the contributing factors do not appear to have been exposure to the (worst of) the toxic materials that were released during the collapse and subsequent fires (we're talking really bad stuff, like asbestos, mercury, lead, PCB's, dioxin and shit like that). I've been tested for exposure to those horrors, and thankfully, they don't seem to be much in evidence. However, it is difficult to actually identify what is the cause of this syndrome, and it's generally believed that the hyper auto-immune response which causes sarcoidosis is typically not triggered by exposure to a single source, but by a combination of many sources. It's this sort of uncertainty and the potentially-unlimited number of possibilities that makes sarcoidosis difficult to diagnose.
Fortunately, there are no signs of persistent granulomas (small, fibrous tumors), although my initial chest x-ray did indicate there might be some in the lungs. Whatever that was has pretty much disappeared -- no one knows how or why-- and the doctor is not (at this stage) concerned that the affliction is going to become debilitating, although we'll just have to wait and see if it becomes/remains chronic. So far, the only things we do know is that it seems to become worse with the arrival of spring (it's shown up two consecutive years in a row, now), and tends to tail off when the really hot weather arrives (like today when it hit 96 degrees outside, and all of a sudden, the worst of the tiny little red blotches on my forearms arms seem to have gone completely).
This means, of course, a battery of allergy tests is in the offing. Literally hundreds of them. Starting next week. I'm going to be tested for every pollen, spore, mold and fungus known to mankind, to judge by the Doc's demeanor. He seems genuinely interested in this case, perhaps even genuinely perturbed by the elusive nature of it all. I can't tell if he's just really pissed, taking this inability to give clear and concise answers beyond "maybe", "we're not really sure", and "well, it might be..." as a personal affront to his medical reputation, and personal honor. Whatever; so long as he cares that much, I'm thinking it's a good thing.
It also means someone is coming to my house to vacuum every speck of dust, test every surface, sample the air in the house and in the neighborhood, not to mention check my soap, laundry detergent, deodorants, colognes, and every household cleaner under the sink. No stone is being left unturned.
The other piece of good news is that at least I won't have to take steroids to keep my lung function up. As an aside: the last lung function test I took was damned impressive, considering that I've smoked for 27 years, am a good 50 pounds overweight, and haven't run more than a few hundred feet in years. Not a whiff of cancer or lung damage on the x-rays, either. Fuck You, Tobacco Nazis and Secondhand-Smoke-Kills Pansies! How do you like them apples?
Well, the bad news is that, yes -- I do have sarcoidosis. Confirmed. Nailed down. No question about it.
The really good news is that the contributing factors do not appear to have been exposure to the (worst of) the toxic materials that were released during the collapse and subsequent fires (we're talking really bad stuff, like asbestos, mercury, lead, PCB's, dioxin and shit like that). I've been tested for exposure to those horrors, and thankfully, they don't seem to be much in evidence. However, it is difficult to actually identify what is the cause of this syndrome, and it's generally believed that the hyper auto-immune response which causes sarcoidosis is typically not triggered by exposure to a single source, but by a combination of many sources. It's this sort of uncertainty and the potentially-unlimited number of possibilities that makes sarcoidosis difficult to diagnose.
Fortunately, there are no signs of persistent granulomas (small, fibrous tumors), although my initial chest x-ray did indicate there might be some in the lungs. Whatever that was has pretty much disappeared -- no one knows how or why-- and the doctor is not (at this stage) concerned that the affliction is going to become debilitating, although we'll just have to wait and see if it becomes/remains chronic. So far, the only things we do know is that it seems to become worse with the arrival of spring (it's shown up two consecutive years in a row, now), and tends to tail off when the really hot weather arrives (like today when it hit 96 degrees outside, and all of a sudden, the worst of the tiny little red blotches on my forearms arms seem to have gone completely).
This means, of course, a battery of allergy tests is in the offing. Literally hundreds of them. Starting next week. I'm going to be tested for every pollen, spore, mold and fungus known to mankind, to judge by the Doc's demeanor. He seems genuinely interested in this case, perhaps even genuinely perturbed by the elusive nature of it all. I can't tell if he's just really pissed, taking this inability to give clear and concise answers beyond "maybe", "we're not really sure", and "well, it might be..." as a personal affront to his medical reputation, and personal honor. Whatever; so long as he cares that much, I'm thinking it's a good thing.
It also means someone is coming to my house to vacuum every speck of dust, test every surface, sample the air in the house and in the neighborhood, not to mention check my soap, laundry detergent, deodorants, colognes, and every household cleaner under the sink. No stone is being left unturned.
The other piece of good news is that at least I won't have to take steroids to keep my lung function up. As an aside: the last lung function test I took was damned impressive, considering that I've smoked for 27 years, am a good 50 pounds overweight, and haven't run more than a few hundred feet in years. Not a whiff of cancer or lung damage on the x-rays, either. Fuck You, Tobacco Nazis and Secondhand-Smoke-Kills Pansies! How do you like them apples?
Friday, July 02, 2010
King Tut's Penis is Missing...
This was posted a few days ago over at Instapundit. I would have linked it sooner, but I was wondering just where that pesky pecker could have gotten to. Here's a list of possible locations:
* Stuck in the Late-Senator Robert Byrd's Ass.
* Helen Thomas' mouth.
* Al Gore's Defense Team has it, hoping to use a variation of the "If it Doesn't Fit, you Must Acquit" defense in his upcoming Painting the Masseuse With your Man-milk case.
* Elin Woods got that in the divorce, too.
* Keith Olbermann uses it as a pacifier.
* Those Yuppie Russian Spies managed to smuggle it back to Moscow.
* BP was planning to plug the hole in the Gulf with it, just as soon as the government decides the Jones Act doesn't cover mummified penies...in another two months.
* It's in the same extra-dimensional pocket where Elvis, Bigfoot, Nessie, and the Abominable Snowman all live when they aren't busy being spotted eating at a Burger King in Chillcothe, Indiana by some inbred with astigmatism and a raging crystal meth habit.
* It's currently polling 15-points higher than Nancy Pelosi in a primary race for her congressional seat.
* It was named Secretary of the Treasury by President Obama.
Post your theories here!
* Stuck in the Late-Senator Robert Byrd's Ass.
* Helen Thomas' mouth.
* Al Gore's Defense Team has it, hoping to use a variation of the "If it Doesn't Fit, you Must Acquit" defense in his upcoming Painting the Masseuse With your Man-milk case.
* Elin Woods got that in the divorce, too.
* Keith Olbermann uses it as a pacifier.
* Those Yuppie Russian Spies managed to smuggle it back to Moscow.
* BP was planning to plug the hole in the Gulf with it, just as soon as the government decides the Jones Act doesn't cover mummified penies...in another two months.
* It's in the same extra-dimensional pocket where Elvis, Bigfoot, Nessie, and the Abominable Snowman all live when they aren't busy being spotted eating at a Burger King in Chillcothe, Indiana by some inbred with astigmatism and a raging crystal meth habit.
* It's currently polling 15-points higher than Nancy Pelosi in a primary race for her congressional seat.
* It was named Secretary of the Treasury by President Obama.
Post your theories here!
It's Official: Tobacco Now More Expensive Than Crack...
Our elected officials here in New York have things bass-ackwards; they give out free needles to heroin addicts, but tax the hell out of smokers.
The claim that smoking causes healthcare costs to skyrocket is relative; smoking doesn't lead to AIDS and Hepatitis -- like the sharing of dirty needles does.
The State of New York faces a huge budget deficit because democrats in this state haven't met a dollar they wouldn't like to borrow, ass-rape and then spend twice in order to keep a permanent underclass (several underclasses, actually) firmly on the government plantation. You would think that that if you needed to find yourself some places to save or raise money, you might start by denying drug paraphernalia, free-of-charge, to people who are determined to kill themselves.
But that would set up one of those political balancing acts that politicians hate so much because it causes them to think, and make choices -- in this case, Gays versus Smokers -- because the Needle Exchange is supposed to be all about stopping the spread of AIDS, in which your typical asswipe cocksucker, errr, I mean, democrat, can't help but make the wrong choice; facilitating a crime (shooting/possessing heroin is a crime in this state, as is the possession of drug paraphernalia...unless the government gives it to you?) is nothing when it comes to placating and accepting money from a Special Interest (Gays).
You could stop paying for the health care, education, welfare, and food stamps for illegal immigrants, but that sets up yet another dilemma, in which the shithead communists...errr...democrats, will come down on the side of the Devil; don't want to piss off that Hispanic vote, even if all that money is being wasted on people who won't assimilate, hardly ever graduate, undercut wages, and breed like bedbugs in the heat.
You think you might consider stopping that stupid, Yuppie-inspired program which is supposed to "Plant a Million Trees" in New York City, but that might remove the opportunity for graft, I guess, which is what New York politicians are really good at. No ability to kick some of those contracts for the most ridiculous expenditures to your local dickhead bed-wetting fartsniffer's...errr...democrat's...family. Hell, it seems that everytime there's money being lavished on a stupid project in this City/State, some politician's sister-in-law, or fifth-cousin-once-removed usually turns out to be the recipient.
All of this would require an effort on behalf of our elected officials. It might require a modicum of thinking. It might require the removal of the ideological blinders. It would require that the jerkoffs in Albany actually live outside the bubble they've created for themselves and recognize the reality of the complete disaster they have created. But that's not what politicians in New York do; they simply persist in their stupidity and dig deeper holes. They sleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that just over half the people in this City are either their willing slaves, or too stupid to tie their own shoes without a government program. So long as the barest majority is attached to the government tit, the longer this kind of nonsense will continue; "budgets" which contain 6,900 separate bills, drug addicts given the means to continue their destructive habits because to do otherwise is somehow anti-Gay and pro-Aids. Criminals allowed to roam the street, use the hospitals, fill up the schools and demand an entire range of public services in every language but English without ever being expected to pay for any of it --because to do otherwise is considered discrimination.
Somehow, it's perfectly okay single out people who are merely exercising their right to enjoy a legal product which the State has already collected taxes on for the last 234 years. There's no downside to picking on smokers in democratic party circles, because we represent a filthy habit (more disgusting than heroin use or even Gay sex?), we're not a monolithic voting bloc that can be stampeded in the proper direction with a threatened withdrawal of their welfare benefits/immigration status/taxpayer-funded lifestyle, and we're certainly not "plugged-in" to the system of political spoils and patronage in Albany, otherwise there'd be a pro-Smoking Lobby worth it's salt, or even better -- a pro-Personal Rights lobby -- that would stand up for the real oppressed minority in New York: Smokers.
A year from now, when enough smokers have refused to pay $13.00 and have quit , or much more likely, when a black market for cigarettes has arisen, and the State doesn't collect the expected funds, we'll be hearing about more deficits and higher cigarette taxes...but you'll never hear a word about letting fucking heroin addicts die. That'll save you a shitload of health care bucks, and you won't have to give out needles anymore.
The claim that smoking causes healthcare costs to skyrocket is relative; smoking doesn't lead to AIDS and Hepatitis -- like the sharing of dirty needles does.
The State of New York faces a huge budget deficit because democrats in this state haven't met a dollar they wouldn't like to borrow, ass-rape and then spend twice in order to keep a permanent underclass (several underclasses, actually) firmly on the government plantation. You would think that that if you needed to find yourself some places to save or raise money, you might start by denying drug paraphernalia, free-of-charge, to people who are determined to kill themselves.
But that would set up one of those political balancing acts that politicians hate so much because it causes them to think, and make choices -- in this case, Gays versus Smokers -- because the Needle Exchange is supposed to be all about stopping the spread of AIDS, in which your typical asswipe cocksucker, errr, I mean, democrat, can't help but make the wrong choice; facilitating a crime (shooting/possessing heroin is a crime in this state, as is the possession of drug paraphernalia...unless the government gives it to you?) is nothing when it comes to placating and accepting money from a Special Interest (Gays).
You could stop paying for the health care, education, welfare, and food stamps for illegal immigrants, but that sets up yet another dilemma, in which the shithead communists...errr...democrats, will come down on the side of the Devil; don't want to piss off that Hispanic vote, even if all that money is being wasted on people who won't assimilate, hardly ever graduate, undercut wages, and breed like bedbugs in the heat.
You think you might consider stopping that stupid, Yuppie-inspired program which is supposed to "Plant a Million Trees" in New York City, but that might remove the opportunity for graft, I guess, which is what New York politicians are really good at. No ability to kick some of those contracts for the most ridiculous expenditures to your local dickhead bed-wetting fartsniffer's...errr...democrat's...family. Hell, it seems that everytime there's money being lavished on a stupid project in this City/State, some politician's sister-in-law, or fifth-cousin-once-removed usually turns out to be the recipient.
All of this would require an effort on behalf of our elected officials. It might require a modicum of thinking. It might require the removal of the ideological blinders. It would require that the jerkoffs in Albany actually live outside the bubble they've created for themselves and recognize the reality of the complete disaster they have created. But that's not what politicians in New York do; they simply persist in their stupidity and dig deeper holes. They sleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that just over half the people in this City are either their willing slaves, or too stupid to tie their own shoes without a government program. So long as the barest majority is attached to the government tit, the longer this kind of nonsense will continue; "budgets" which contain 6,900 separate bills, drug addicts given the means to continue their destructive habits because to do otherwise is somehow anti-Gay and pro-Aids. Criminals allowed to roam the street, use the hospitals, fill up the schools and demand an entire range of public services in every language but English without ever being expected to pay for any of it --because to do otherwise is considered discrimination.
Somehow, it's perfectly okay single out people who are merely exercising their right to enjoy a legal product which the State has already collected taxes on for the last 234 years. There's no downside to picking on smokers in democratic party circles, because we represent a filthy habit (more disgusting than heroin use or even Gay sex?), we're not a monolithic voting bloc that can be stampeded in the proper direction with a threatened withdrawal of their welfare benefits/immigration status/taxpayer-funded lifestyle, and we're certainly not "plugged-in" to the system of political spoils and patronage in Albany, otherwise there'd be a pro-Smoking Lobby worth it's salt, or even better -- a pro-Personal Rights lobby -- that would stand up for the real oppressed minority in New York: Smokers.
A year from now, when enough smokers have refused to pay $13.00 and have quit , or much more likely, when a black market for cigarettes has arisen, and the State doesn't collect the expected funds, we'll be hearing about more deficits and higher cigarette taxes...but you'll never hear a word about letting fucking heroin addicts die. That'll save you a shitload of health care bucks, and you won't have to give out needles anymore.
Of Forests and Trees...
Pelosi says: Unemployment checks are good for the Economy.
November cannot get here fast enough. The thought that someone has actually voted for this turdcutter...repeatedly...boggles the mind. Everytime this woman shows herself in public...and speaks...I'm convinced that she makes the case for forced sterilization, and that we should start with the entire state of California (then start on New York).
November cannot get here fast enough. The thought that someone has actually voted for this turdcutter...repeatedly...boggles the mind. Everytime this woman shows herself in public...and speaks...I'm convinced that she makes the case for forced sterilization, and that we should start with the entire state of California (then start on New York).
Recovery Summer, Part II...
Sec. of State Hitlery says the U.S. should emulate Brazil, and raise taxes on everything and everyone, but especially -- "the rich"-- to astronomical levels, because, well....Brazil did it, and they're "growing like crazy!"
Of course, she fails to notice that Brazil is mostly a shithole, except for the places where the really smart set goes. That's the thing about these "amazing" economic miracles (Brazil, China, Indonesia, India); there's lots of glitter and lights, but it somehow manages to escape the VIP's attention that the rest of the country lives in cardboard boxes, eats grubs and lives up to it's waist in shit. Brazil is "growing like crazy" because most of the country is so fucking poor and underdeveloped, that in most areas, the installation of a pay phone or a vending machine represents 1,000% economic growth. In other words -- there was no place to go but UP. The numbers don't tell the entire story; even with this wildfire growth, maybe half the people in Sao Paulo alone will probably go to bed hungry tonight -- still.
The same argument is made about wildcat Chinese economic growth, but again, the story is the same: 7/8 of China still lives in the same grinding conditions of poverty that would be all-to-familiar to the truly poor, starving and dying-of-malaria all over the planet. The Big Cities may be showing the signs of new commerce; McDonald's, a Citibank branch, The Gap, skyscrapers-going-up-to-house-mostly-foreign-companies, but the vast hinterland hasn't advanced an inch in 50, or even, 100 years.
Now, mind you, the Hildebeest is supposed to be The Smartest Woman in the World, but it's statements like this that make you want to saw the top of her head off just see if there's anything between those ears. Or, maybe she was just playing politics, and making the disingenuous case for those who can't think without help that if you look at Brazil and see rising tax rates on "the Rich", and a booming economy, it validates everything Barack Oshithead is doing...so long as you avoid asking the obvious questions.
Here's what Her Heinous' case runs up against;
* While the Unemployment rate is "Officially" 9.7%....unofficially, it's closer to 17%.
* The Vice President of the United States can feel totally unashamed -- and curiously unconcerned about his personal safety -- and admit that 8,000,000 lost jobs are "never coming back".
* The President of the United States promises to "create or save" 3,000,000 jobs..and loses an additional 5,000,000 million in just under two years. He's nearly-nationalized the banks/brokerage houses, berates and threatens them with new taxes and regulations on a daily basis, forces them to re-write millions of mortgages for bad credit risks, castigates them in every speech making them out to be the biggest evil since The Huns....and then wants to know why no one is lending money and there's a Credit Crisis. That's AFTER he's already taken $787 billion out of the credit markets with a"Stimulus" which hasn't worked, "Reformed" the financial markets in Hitlerian fashion, and is talking about making Energy unaffordable with a Cap-and-Trade bill. All of that's even before we get to the VAT taxes necessary to pay for "Healthcare reform"...which now turns out to be more expensive than anyone ever imagined, and can't ever be paid for.
* The National Debt stands at nearly $13 trillion dollars -- before interest. This is almost equal to all American economic output for one calendar year. With interest payments, we're looking at debt in the hundreds of trillions if Obama gets his way on a long list of democratic "priorities".
The point is this: at this rate, there won't be ANYONE left to tax, let alone The Rich.
The Smartest Woman in the World is a lying dipshit who should get her fat, lying ass back in the kitchen. If there's anyone who should be wrapped in a burqua and beaten daily, it's Hillary Clinton, for sure. Especially when she makes asinine remarks about taxing other people (because I have every confidence that multi-millionaire Clintons will somehow mysteriously manage to skate on most of the taxes they advocate for others. It's funny how that happens, isn't it?).
I can promise you that while she stands before cameras and says this shit in order to seem "a team player", the woman is sharpening her knife(and fangs) as we speak. Barack Obama, you is about to get Arkancided come 2012...assuming you don't find yourself lying in state before then.
Of course, she fails to notice that Brazil is mostly a shithole, except for the places where the really smart set goes. That's the thing about these "amazing" economic miracles (Brazil, China, Indonesia, India); there's lots of glitter and lights, but it somehow manages to escape the VIP's attention that the rest of the country lives in cardboard boxes, eats grubs and lives up to it's waist in shit. Brazil is "growing like crazy" because most of the country is so fucking poor and underdeveloped, that in most areas, the installation of a pay phone or a vending machine represents 1,000% economic growth. In other words -- there was no place to go but UP. The numbers don't tell the entire story; even with this wildfire growth, maybe half the people in Sao Paulo alone will probably go to bed hungry tonight -- still.
The same argument is made about wildcat Chinese economic growth, but again, the story is the same: 7/8 of China still lives in the same grinding conditions of poverty that would be all-to-familiar to the truly poor, starving and dying-of-malaria all over the planet. The Big Cities may be showing the signs of new commerce; McDonald's, a Citibank branch, The Gap, skyscrapers-going-up-to-house-mostly-foreign-companies, but the vast hinterland hasn't advanced an inch in 50, or even, 100 years.
Now, mind you, the Hildebeest is supposed to be The Smartest Woman in the World, but it's statements like this that make you want to saw the top of her head off just see if there's anything between those ears. Or, maybe she was just playing politics, and making the disingenuous case for those who can't think without help that if you look at Brazil and see rising tax rates on "the Rich", and a booming economy, it validates everything Barack Oshithead is doing...so long as you avoid asking the obvious questions.
Here's what Her Heinous' case runs up against;
* While the Unemployment rate is "Officially" 9.7%....unofficially, it's closer to 17%.
* The Vice President of the United States can feel totally unashamed -- and curiously unconcerned about his personal safety -- and admit that 8,000,000 lost jobs are "never coming back".
* The President of the United States promises to "create or save" 3,000,000 jobs..and loses an additional 5,000,000 million in just under two years. He's nearly-nationalized the banks/brokerage houses, berates and threatens them with new taxes and regulations on a daily basis, forces them to re-write millions of mortgages for bad credit risks, castigates them in every speech making them out to be the biggest evil since The Huns....and then wants to know why no one is lending money and there's a Credit Crisis. That's AFTER he's already taken $787 billion out of the credit markets with a"Stimulus" which hasn't worked, "Reformed" the financial markets in Hitlerian fashion, and is talking about making Energy unaffordable with a Cap-and-Trade bill. All of that's even before we get to the VAT taxes necessary to pay for "Healthcare reform"...which now turns out to be more expensive than anyone ever imagined, and can't ever be paid for.
* The National Debt stands at nearly $13 trillion dollars -- before interest. This is almost equal to all American economic output for one calendar year. With interest payments, we're looking at debt in the hundreds of trillions if Obama gets his way on a long list of democratic "priorities".
The point is this: at this rate, there won't be ANYONE left to tax, let alone The Rich.
The Smartest Woman in the World is a lying dipshit who should get her fat, lying ass back in the kitchen. If there's anyone who should be wrapped in a burqua and beaten daily, it's Hillary Clinton, for sure. Especially when she makes asinine remarks about taxing other people (because I have every confidence that multi-millionaire Clintons will somehow mysteriously manage to skate on most of the taxes they advocate for others. It's funny how that happens, isn't it?).
I can promise you that while she stands before cameras and says this shit in order to seem "a team player", the woman is sharpening her knife(and fangs) as we speak. Barack Obama, you is about to get Arkancided come 2012...assuming you don't find yourself lying in state before then.
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