Why

I am perplexed.   Wondering: why did it take Obama five years to visit Louisiana after Katrina? 

It makes no sense.

Standing with our president to wish the Queen of England a happy birthday

Happy Birthday Queen of England.   I hope your birthday in April was as momentous as the one you had yesterday.

On a seperate but related note, I hope President Obama got her something thoughtful and cool for her birthday this year.  

Maybe something like a shop vac.  It is very utilitarian like the Queen herself.

Information Request

Does anyone know what all this hoopla over Helen Thomas is about?

It seems like the wingnutosphere is all up in arms about something she did or said.  Problem is I cant find anything about it.

I looked all over the reputable news sites (like CNN, CBS and ABCnews) and nothing.

This reeks of another witch hunt.   It is absolutely reprehensible the lengths some people will go to destroy a sweet little old lady.

Another no-bailout-taking automaker under investigation for stuck gas pedal problems

Dont get me wrong.  I'm no fan of the Ford.

But it is interesting that another of GM and Chrysler's chief competitors is the subject of a federal probe into sticking gas pedal issues.  This is why we need  government control over auto manufacturers.  You don't hear about Chevy gas pedals sticking.  You dont hear about Dodge gas pedals sticking.  You know why?  Because of government!

Incidentally, I think it's high time that the government take a look into Daihatsu.   Their gas pedals are always sticking.   Seriously guys, "Daihatsu" is the Chinese word for "death trap".

Meanwhile in Siberia

Was Al Gore in town?

FWIW, local temperatures yesterday were in the mid-60s. Mid-70's a few days ago.



This is why I wont mow the lawn today.

Massive turnout at todays Coffee Party in SLC. You should have seen it!

Photo courtesy of KSL.

The atmosphere was absolutely electric.

Incidentally, this was the second Coffee Party story in the past 11 days on KSL.   This thing is really taking off.

To honor the memory of Ronnie James Dio

I'm going to drop my windows, open the sun roof and blast Holy Diver at at 75% volume on my way home for work tonight. 

Maybe Stargazer too, depending on traffic.

Epic Fartcan

Greatest Kia mod ever.



At least I think it was a Kia.  I'm not sure because I could not take my eyes off that tail pipe.

I think President Obama hit this one right out of the ball park

Elena Kagan is everything you want in a supreme court justice.  She's a woman,  she's super progressive, she's real smart and her selection proves that President Obama cares about the transgendered set.

Elena Kagan: the peoples supreme court justice.

Rhetorical

Do you think Sandra Bullock's perky, upturned nose will droop and sag as she gets older?

I'd take this as a strong indication of a cyber attack on Wall Street

I'd say it was either the Chinese or the Mexicans

WASHINGTON -- The White House's homeland security and counterterrorism adviser says there is no evidence that a cyber attack was behind the chaos that shook Wall Street last Thursday.

No resident of Cody, Wyoming will ever admit this...

There is strong evidence that Buffalo Bill Cody soiled his pants during his first encounter with Porter Rockwell.

As expected, C. Montgomery Burns will not be reelected to the senate...

Nor will Senator Bob Bennett (pictured below)

This sets the stage for interesting electoral battle between Tim Bridgewater, who hates Mexicans, and Mike Lee who calls me every Monday between 1pm and 3pm to personally ask for my support.

Incidentally, I once tried suggesting to Mike Lee that he invest some of his campaign cash in one of those robo-call machines to save himself some time and energy, but he wouldn't shut up long enough to listen.

Non Man Caused Disasters

What a bad month for Tennessee.  First all that oil washing up on their shores and now the flooding.

Good thing I dont live there these days.

UPDATE (5/8/2010):  Now they're saying that a methane bubble caused that explosion that even now has oil washing up on the shores of Nashville.

I have a way with the women

Transcript of an actual conversation I had with a hot chick yesterday.

She:  Hows it going?

Me:  Not bad.  What have you been up to?

She:  Nothing much, really.  Guess what?

Me:  You're pregnant?

She:  NO!

Me:  Oh.  Well I've been telling people you're pregnant.

She:  I can't be pregnant.  I have one of those...IDU's....IUD's...whatever they're called.

Me:  Oh, you mean an IED?

She:  IED?

Me:  Yeah.  Inter e-u-t-e-r-i-n-e device

She:  That's it.   I have one of those.

Me:  They're not foolproof.  You could still get pregnant.

Randy Rasmussen: Part VI

Opening Crawl

Chapter VI

The Quantum Distortion

It is a period of economic turmoil and uncertainty.

Competing   carriers   and   long-haul   freelancers

in  '08 won a progressive victory, a referendum of

Bush's archaic, failed national transportation policy.

In a seemingly unrelated development, the intrepid

trucker:  Randy  Rasmussen,   speeds  across  the

barren wastes of eastern Nevada, custodian  of  a

high  value  cargo of soy and gum arabic destined 

for north-central Cheyennes eraser conglomerates.

Pursued  by the sinister progeny  of  the  tragically

deceased trucker  Dick Augney, and  stalked by  

voluptuous  long-haul  banshee 'Sweaty'  Negretti,

Randy Rasmussen unknowingly encounters  a tear

in the very fabric of space and time . . . . . . . . . .

(Scene 1:  Pan downward from opening crawl to a custom Peterbilt approaching  a poorly lit UHP weigh station on the southern Utah / Arizona border.  The rig rolls to a stop and after a moment, our hero opens the door and climbs down to the recently repaved tarmac.  Stretching his back and stiffling a yawn, Randy strides toward the weigh station office)

Randy "Dave" Rasmussen: (to the desk clerk)  Hiya doin?

Trooper Clyde Barnett:  Good morning sir, what can I do for you?

Randy:  Well son, I got me a load of soy and gum arabic for one of those eraser factories in Wyoming and I sure as hell mean to see it through by dawn, but I gotta take me a leak.

Trooper Clyde:  Down the hall...to your right.

(Cut to scene 2:  Inside a custom Keworth somewhere in the Arizona badlands, 'Sweaty' Alice Negretti, clad resplendently in a pair of black leather hotpants and nothing else, sleeps fitfully)

'Sweaty' Alice Negretti:  (talking in her sleep)  Sonofabitch.....why wont you take me?

(Cut to scene 3:  moments later inside the St George weigh station)

Randy:  Godamighty my pants fit better now.  Thank you, kind sir.

Trooper Clyde:  (nods)

Randy:  Say, what time you got?

Trooper Clyde:  (checks his watch)  Just about one a.m., sir.

Randy:  (stunned)  What?

Trooper Clyde:  I said it's just about one, sir.  Sir?  Sir, are you all right?

Randy:  Trooper, are you sure about the time?

Trooper Clyde:  Yes sir.

Randy:  But thats impossible.   There's no way...

Trooper Clyde:  Huh?

Randy:  Son,  I rented me a girl tonight in Mesquite and I left as soon as I was done.

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  That was forty five minutes ago....at eleven o'clock.

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  Damn it, man.  Don't you get it?

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  Ever been to Mesquite, son?

Trooper Clyde:  All the time sir,  my sister lives there.

Randy:  How long is the drive?

Trooper Clyde:  Thirty...forty five minutes at most.

Randy:  Don't you see?  I left forty five minutes ago!  AT ELEVEN O'CLOCK!

Trooper Clyde:  (stares and blinks twice)

Randy:  Look at my watch, man!  Look!  It says 11:56!  How the hell do you figure it's almost one a.m.?

Trooper Clyde:  (blinks)

Randy:  Oh I get it.  You're in on this too!

Trooper Clyde:  (stares)

Randy:  God as my witness, I will figure out whats going on here.   It's got to be some sort of quantum displacement.  Some kind of rupture in the fabric of space and time maybe. I dont know much about that kinda stuff but I will figure out whats going on.  And when I do....

Trooper Clyde:  Ok sir.  Have a good night, sir.

(Randy backs out slowly and once out of Trooper Clyde's line of sight, sprints to the safety of his Peterbilt, determined more than ever to see his precious cargo delivered on time to Cheyenne)

Information Request

Russia has apparently suspended adoptions to the US.

I dont really care about that.

My concern is with whether this suspension includes mail order brides.   Because if it does, it looks like the future Mrs. Powers will probably have to be from Thailand.

Not that there is anything wrong here...

But someone has to be the first to point out that before his career in politics, Eric Massa was a long haul trucker.

Aww Crap, Manny! Bogey at nine o'clock!

And he's smokin

I'm going to jump ahead of the pack and say what everyone else is thinking

Polands president was killed by the Russians.

Thats right.  It was a hit. 

Remember, I said it first.

Its not important anyway because nobody watches baseball.

Also FYI

• RSL:  Still MLS champs
• Ben Roethlisberger: Still a pervert
• New Orleans:  Still the Aints
• Patti Russo:  Still fuggin' hot
• Kevin Garn:  Still the Utah Republican hot tub mac daddy
• PLEASE for the love of God, PLEASE check references when you're hiring a spiritual healer, it may seem like a hassle now...

Video Courtesy of KSL.com

The overlooked race angle in the raging debate about President Obama's baseball prowess

One point that is being completely overlooked in the controversy about President Obama's alleged girly throwing mechanics or his alleged lack of knowledge of anything baseball, is the fact that the sport isn't really inclusive to the black community.

If NRO (neocon rhetoric organization) wont correct a glaring error at TPM, then I will

Usually the neocon hate mongerers at NRO do a better job of correcting progressive news places.  Which is why this strikes me as unusual.

That TPM allegedly takes umbrage at the teabaggers use of the term "faggot" toward Barney Frank is disingenious and has been since Perez Hilton make it okay to say last year.

I resent the characterization from the extreme right wing of the blogworld of President Obama as a tyrant...

A simple banana republic tyrant.

It's completely unacceptable.

The man is clearly too big a pussy to be labeled a tyrant.

Randy Rasmussen and The Temple of Poon

Prologue:

There are strange things done on the midnight run by the men who long-haul truck

Eighteen wheels of steel and behind the wheel are men who love to fuck

(Scene 1:  Camera view fading in from black reveals the dark, smoky confines of a cheesy brothel 35 miles south of Jackpot, Nevada.  Broken men idle impatiently on gaudy red velvet couches while an off screen pianist belts out an off-tune rendition of  The Sting.  Pan to the door which violently crashes open revealing the backlit silhouette of a large angry man...)

"BIG" DICK AUGNEY:   (shouts)  Where is that cockmagnet Rasmussen hiding?

DONNA THE PROPRIETOR:  (from off-scene) Close the door, Dick.  You're lettin' all the warm air out.

"BIG" DICK:  (shouts) Where is he?

(cut to DONNA, proprietor of DONNA'S RANCH)

DONNA:  (from off-scene)  Jesus, hon.  You're actin' a site.  Why dontcha take a load off?

(cut to a haggard and obviously drunk "BIG" DICK AUGNEY, his beer stained Philadelphia Eagles t-shirt several sizes too small for his distended gut)

"BIG" DICK: (stares lewdly at DONNA's gratuitous cleavage)  Rasmussen ain't been in tonight?

DONNA:  (from off-scene)  No.  Now would ya close the door, the wind will kill ya!

"BIG" DICK:  (looks over the lounge) Hmmmm.  Can a fella get some service in here?

DONNA:  (moves into frame) Smells like you've had enough to drink tonight, big boy.

"BIG" DICK:  You get me wrong, darlin'.  I'm looking for service for...my COCK.

(cue an appropriately sinister chord, trilling on the word "cock")

DONNA:  (making a cud smacking noise with her chewing gum) You got cash?

"BIG" DICK:  You got ass?

DONNA:  Right this way, baby.

(DONNA grabs "BIG" DICK AUGNEY by the hand and leads him off-scene)

The long, long maze of lonely highways

Driven by men down on their luck

(Scene 2:  Pan down from a dark, starry sky to a poorly maintained gravel lot where a custom Peterbilt Rig grumbles onto the scene and stops with a loud hiss of air brakes.  The engine ticks loudly, cooling in the sub-zero temperatures as the drivers side door opens and intrepid long-haul trucker RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSEN climbs out.   He strides quickly toward the front door of a seedy, ramshackle joint advertised by a large buzzing neon sign which reads:  Donna's Ranch)

RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSEN:  (to himself) Oh boy, I've got to get me some goddamn poontang!

(Cut to the interior of the brothel.  The recently damaged door opens with a grinding squeal.  Broken men on gaudy red velvet couches look up at the newcomer before retreating back into the loving embrace of their own sorrows.)

RANDY:  (to nobody in particular) This looks like one o' them establishments where a feller like me could get some goddamn poontang on the cheap.  That true?

(The piano stops playing and is replaced by the gravely, nicotine stressed voice of the pianist)

HOT CARLA, THE PIANIST:  You Rasmussen?

RANDY:  Thats right, I am.  Randy Rasmussen's muh name.  But you can call me Dave.  I got me a custom Peterbilt and a double load of brussels sprouts headin' to Salt Lake City, but they don't gotta be there until morning and right now I need me some goddamn poontang!

HOT CARLA:  Someone was in here lookin' for ya.

RANDY:  Really?  Where?

HOT CARLA:  Down the hall.

(RANDY stares toward a dark hallway)

RANDY:  (pointing with his thumb) That hallway right there?

HOT CARLA:  (resumes playing)  Yup.

Those sodium lights have seen queer sights

But the queerest they ever did see

(Scene 3:  Inside a darkened corridor in a cheesy brothel somewhere south of Jackpot, Nevada a lone figure surveys events unfolding in the lounge.  Clad in a form fitting latex bustier, black thigh-high stockings and stiletto heels and a lacy black thong, statuesque beauty "SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI, armed with a bull whip and a small flask of feminine lubricant daintily tucked in the flimsy waistband of her expensive thong patiently awaits her prey)

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  (under her breath)  There you are, you sonofabitch.  Come to mama.  Come, let me show you what it feels like to be twenty-five again.

(RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSEN turns as directed by HOT CARLA, THE PIANIST toward the darkened hallway, where sex crazed vixen "SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI awaits, quivering with desire)

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  (under her breath)  Closer you sonofabitch.  Follow your meatlance toward mamas mudhole.  Thats it.  Closer.

RANDY: (stops and stares into the dark intently)  Wait a minute!  My long-haul trucker senses are tingling.

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI: (under her breath) You sonofabitch.

("SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI steps forward from the shadows, silky, jet black hair flourishing slightly in the breeze from an over head fan.  Her ice blue eyes seem to glow with an unnatural light from beneath her leather visor cap)

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  (spoken seductively) "Dave" Rasmussen!  At last we meet.  Bring that hog leg over here and let me lather it up with my juices.

("SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI cracks her bullwhip and beckons RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSEN to come forward.  She licks her thick, ruby red lips and motions 'come here' with her index finger)

RANDY:  (gulps)

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  I said now!  You sonofabitch.  I will have your cock now!

(Commotion can be heard coming from a room behind "SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI")

"BIG" DICK:  (muffled)  Whuzzat?  Did someone just say "DAVE" Rasumussen is here?

RANDY: (staring intently at "SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI)  What are you doing with that whip, Alice?

("SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI leans forward toward RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSEN, glances at the bulge in his crotch, then arches her back and slides her hand enticingly down the front of her thong.  She withdraws her hand and licks the tip of her middle finger. An exquisitely faint whiff of honey and Atlantic Cod can be detected over the musky lounge odors of smoke and human sweat)

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  I've never wanted a man like I want you, "Dave".  Take me now!

(More commotion and then a loud crash from the hallway behind "SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI)

"BIG" DICK: (shouting drunkenly) Dave!  Where you been you ass rascal?

("BIG" DICK AUGNEY charges drunkely down the hall toward RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSEN.  He collides with "SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI who, weighing over one hundred pounds less than "BIG" DICK AUGNEY is knocked violently aside.  Her head connects sharply with a tackily papered wall and she collapses in a heap)

RANDY:  Big  Dick!

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI: (before losing consciousness) Sonsabitches.

(DONNA THE PROPRIETOR, wrapped hastily in a semen stained bed sheet emerges from the room seconds behind "BIG" DICK AUGNEY)

DONNA: (shouting) The fuck is going on out here?

(DONNA THE PROPRIETOR stops and stares in horror as "BIG" DICK AUGNEY drops to his knees in front of RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSEN, fumbles momentarily with his belt and then pulls out RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSEN's giant flesh pencil)

"BIG" DICK:  Oh Jeez, Dave.  Its been such a long time.  Oh God!  Whargarblll...

("BIG" DICK AUGNEY's last words are muffled as he wraps his hairy, wind chapped trucker lips around RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSENs swollen meat sickle)

DONNA: (shouting)  Hey you boys gotta get a room for that!  This here's a respectable establishment!

RANDY:  Oh God.  Oh Jesus.  I'm almost there, Big Dick!

"BIG" DICK:  (muffled) wharblgarbl

(DONNA THE PROPRIETOR turns her attention to the scantily clad, unconscious mystery woman laying spread eagle on the floor.  Although not of the lesbian pursuasion, she can not help but feel aroused as she detects the faint, pleasant odor of cinnamon honey and Alaskan king crab eminating from "SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI's meticulously trimmed honey pot)

DONNA:  Oh Jesus, darlin'.  Are you okay?

RANDY:  Oh Lord.  I'm coming.  Oh yeah.

"BIG" DICK:  (muffled) wharblgarblgarbl.

DONNA:  (to the still unconscious "SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI) What did those nancy boys do to you, hun?

RANDY:  (yelling) Yaaaarrrrghhhhhhhhhh

(a loud pop is heard and camera view fades to black)

Was that night in Donna's Ranch, when with a sperm avalanche

"Dave" Rasmussen killed "Big" Dick Augney

(Scene 4:  Montage showing  the aftermath of  "BIG" DICK AUGNEY's sperm fueled destruction.  Epic 1981 ballad Endless Love by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie plays throughout the montage)

RANDY: (yelling)  Yaaaarrrrghhhhhhhhhh

(loud pop)

DONNA: (screams)

(a frothy pink mist of blood, gray matter, and gelatinous jets of man-goo mingle with cigarette smoke in the inadequate fluorescent light)

(Ranch clientele panic and scatter, tipping over chairs)

RANDY:  Unnnnnnnnnnngh

(red and blue lights strobe from every direction.  DONNA THE PROPRIETOR, still wrapped in a semen stained bed sheet holds a styrofoam cup of bad coffee and speaks with a detective, while in the background, the coroner can be seen loading a body bag laden gurney into the back of a county meat wagon)

DONNA:  No.  No sir.  "Big" Dick, he came all cock hungry at "Dave".  Wasn't nowhere "Dave" could go.  No sir.  No sir.  "Dave" didn't look to be fighting back too hard.

("SWEATY" ALICE NEGRETTI, wrapped in a wool army surplus blanket sits alone on the bumper of an ambulance holding an ice pack to her head)

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  Sonsabitches!

(red and blue strobe lights fade out)

(cut to the interior of DONNA's Ranch where RANDY "DAVE" RASMUSSEN speaks patiently with another detective)

SIMON FALCO, Elko County Sherrifs Detective:  Yeah.  Yeah.  I can see where the pervasive psychological pressures inherent in the long-haul trucking industry could manifest themselves via physical pressure in your urethra.  I'm no doctor but it makes perfect sense to me.

RANDY:  "Big" Dick...oh God.....he was like a brother to me.

SIMON FALCO:  (stares)

RANDY:   Not that I woulda let that happen with my own brother.

SIMON FALCO:  (stares)

RANDY:  Or my sister, for that matter.  Do you need anything else from me, detective Falco?

SIMON FALCO:  (looks at his watch) I think we have this all wrapped up.  You go ahead and get on out of here.  I believe you got  somewhere you have to be, right?

RANDY:  Yes sir.  Them school children in Salt Lake need this load of brussels sprouts and I plan to see them through!

(...to be continued)


(Apologies to the estate of Robert Service)

C. Montgomery Burns files for reelection

Its official now, whereas prior to now it was not official.

Also, note his striking resemblance to fictional cartoon character, Senator Bob Bennett.

If I were coordinating an ad campaign to combat negative opinions toward Islam...

My slogan would be:

Islam!  It's da bomb!

What are you thinking about? (Part 2)

Three LA teachers were recently pulled from their classrooms for giving portraits of OJ Simpson, Dennis Rodman and RuPaul to their students to carry in a Black History month parade.

Methinks they could have done much worse.



(h/t fark again  x2)

Just throwing one out

Ok, I'll bite.

Over on another blog somewhere, the following question was asked:

If “teabaggers” is the preferred term for people who are speaking out against what this administration is doing, what should we call the people who think this administration is awesome? “Bean-flickers”?

I submit:  "Beaners"

I cant stop watching this

Via Fark

By Pelosi-esque logic

A bill can be bipartisan without bipartisan votes.

A school can be integrated without letting in black students.

Global warming can exist in the absence of a warming temperatures.

Obama can quit smoking without giving up cigarettes.

The Nerds Lament

Everything was perfect.  Her smile, the lock of hair that always fell across her eyebrow, that high pitched laughter at my lowbrow fart jokes.  We had plans for a happy future together...

...until the day she found out about my level 80 paladin.

What are you thinking about?

DISCUSS

The presidential trash

haha

Not pictured:  Joe Bidens Camaro and the old sofa on the porch.

Completely unrelated:   Mark Steyn is a very bad man.

Also unrelated:  Would it be Senator Mellencamp, Senator Cougar, or Senator Cougar-Mellencamp?

Meanwhile.....

Barrack Obama, Feb 2, 2010:  "You don't blow a bunch of cash in Vegas when you're trying to save for college."

Barrack Obama, Feb 19, 2010:  President Barack Obama is unveiling $1.5 billion in housing help, a boost timed to his appearance in the city with the worst foreclosure crisis in the nation.

You don't blow a bunch of cash in Vegas when you're trying to fix the economy.

This is scary

If the radical tea party wing is willing to try something like this on an army base, what is to stop them from poisoning the entire country?

Hot news babe alert

I`d hit it.

My impeccable progressive credentials are going to take a hit on this one

I keep getting invitations on facebook to join up for some 1 million people in support of gay marriage thing. 

I'm getting tired of saying no.

I simply don't see the sense in redefining a thousand-year old institution for hundreds of millions of Americans to appease a fringe group.

I'm somewhat dismayed by the tenacity with which conservatives cling to their economic theories

Case in point.

From the comments, it is clear that "admin" fails to appreciate the theoretical merits of the compulsory employment model (as formulated by Speng Musselman and myself), preferring instead to stand by a quote from conservative shill Mark Steyn:

No, the idea that you, to qualify for a $6,000 dollar tax credit, you pay someone or you hire someone and take them on at $105,000 dollars. That’s what I mean about a know-nothing administration. It doesn’t understand why people hire people. You hire people because you are growing your business, you’ve got more sales, and you need to make more product. That’s why you hire people. You don’t hire someone to give them $105,000 dollars to access a $6,000 dollar tax credit. This is stupid.

Which begs the question:  If he is so learned in the ways of economics, why is he shilling himself out to AM radio and conservative rags?  But I digress.

On an obliquely related note, another discussion arose here, wherein the proprietor wrote glowingly of a recent Matthew Yglesias post exploring both the simplicity and effectiveness of another stimulus bill, as clearly illustrated below:

Which brings us to a natural extension of the Compulsory Employment Model as a means to promote jobs growth and heal our economy.   I submit that in the words of my colleague Speng Musselman:

• "There is no proven correlation between sales growth and small-business hiring practices."  Only the presence of robust regulation can cultivate an economic environment condusive to jobs growth.

Therefore:

• Government should step in and mandate that businesses with net profits above an arbitrary threshhold be required to hire additional workers.

And here's the kicker:

• Government should then tax business based upon the additional workers they hire under the proposed mandate and use the additional revenue generated to fund more stimulus.

It is brilliant in it's simplicity.

(UPDATE:  2/15/2010)  "theLibertyPen" disagreed with me:

To be blunt, you (TP) and your friend (SM) display a remarkably stunted understanding of economic practicality – which is typical of those enamored with Keynesian models and their extreme variants (i.e. intromissive Marxism). Which in themselves are superiorly theoretical, non-quantitative models that neglect empiricism and other measures of viability.

Short hand version of the above rebuttal:  "No, you!"

Simply saying something is wrong is not enough to make it wrong.  Its not like in the Iraq War (which was wrong) which goes without saying.

In that same comments, someone actualy said that the compulsory employment model worked and led to smaller unemployment.

"Also, I have to point out that TP’s “idea” was implemented in a similar form in the former Soviet Union which constantly boasted of its extremely small unemployment rate."

So this proves our model is sound.

Video somewhat related to The Erotic Adventures of Randy Rasmussen post below

This is clearly not Kevin LaFontaine's car (no oversize rear spoiler), but its a reasonable facsimile.

The Erotic Adventures of Randy Rasmussen

(Scene 1: Pan from dark, overcast sky downward to reveal a desolate, snowbound stretch of highway. A white sign, half covered in ice reads US 50. Below that, another reads Ely 105 miles. From behind and to the right, brilliant white lights suddenly pierce the darkness, illuminating snow drifts blowing across the blacktop. A custom Peterbilt 18 wheeler growls past. Inside the cab, a toasty sanctuary from the bone-rattling cold, intrepid long haul trucker Randy "Dave" Rasmussen struggles to stay awake as pushes onward through the night toward Salt Lake City.)

RANDY: Gotta stay awake, "Dave". Only five hours to go.

(Randy stiffles a yawn and shakes his head as his radio crackles to life)

"BIG" DICK AUGNEY:  Breaker breaker one niner any other road doggs howlin' tonight?  Come back.

RANDY:  I gotcha "Big Dick".  Whaddya hear?
 
"BIG" DICK AUGNEY:  "Dandy Dave".  Is thatchoo? 
 
RANDY:  Thats a ten four, good buddy.
 
"BIG" DICK AUGNEY:  Say-a "Dave", dispatch is hollerin' at me to pull off the road.  Says Austin summit is closed.   Says it wont open 'til tomorrow afternoon.   Is that gospel?  Over.
 
RANDY:  That's right, "Big Dick", the county mounties shut it down right behind me.  It's a dicey go twenty miles on either side too.
 
(Cut to scene 2:  A primer gray Dodge Neon, with an over-sized rear spoiler and mismatched custom wheels rests on the highway shoulder.  A solitary figure sits shivering behind the wheel.  Inside the poorly modified Mopar tomb, Kevin LaFontaine has begun to second guess his decision to not stop for gas in Ely.)
 
KEVIN LAFONTAINE:  Herrrrrrrrrrrrr Derrrrrrrrrr.
 
(Kevin sticks his index finger into his nose. He pulls it out and carefully examines a gummy wad of mucus showing a faint tinge of blood.)
 
KEVIN LAFONTAINE:  Derrrrrrrrrrr.
 
(Cut to scene 3:  Sheltering from the blizzard in her own custom Kenworth,  "Sweaty" Alice Negretti, listens idly to radio traffic while half-heartedly watching an episode from season 3 of her Melrose Place DVD collection.  She flexes her keigel muscles continuously, conscious of an ache deep inside and knowing only the solid thrust of a mans flesh cudgel could ease her emotional and sexual pain.)
 
"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  (staring at her radio but speaking to herself)  I'm here, you sonsabitches.  Take me.  I'm here for the taking.
 
(The radio crackles)
 
"BIG" DICK AUGNEY:  I'ma pull it over, east side of Eureka.  You up for some comp'ny  "Dave"?
 
RANDY:  Love to "Big Dick",  but I have to see this load through to Salt Lake before 10 am.

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  (to herself)  I'm right here, you sonsabitches.  I'll do ya both for a wink'n a smile.

(Cut to scene 4 - Subtitle: 45 minutes later...  Two custom Peterbilt rigs parked alongside the other.  One pointed eastbound idling languidly, the other pointed westbound, rocking violently side to side.  Muffled voices can be heard over the howling blizzard.)

RANDY:   (muffled)  Oh yeahhhh, brother.  Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh.  Ride me like a rodeo champ.

"BIG" DICK AUGNEY:   Unnnnngh

RANDY:   Thats it, you big pecker!

"BIG" DICK AUGNEY:  Aaaagghhhhhh 
 
(Cut to scene 5:  Inside "Sweaty" Negretti's rig.  Melrose Place credits scroll slowly up her video screen.)

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  Sonsabitches.

(she reaches for a medium size roll-on deodorant container)

"SWEATY"  NEGRETTI:  I can do this myself.

(she pulls the bottom of a silk teddy up toward her chin, revealing an exquitely trimmed minge, with a tiny "faux hitler moustache" patch of velvety pubic hair  just below her panty line)

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  Sonsabitches.

(Cut to scene 6:  Kevin LaFontaine, exhausted, frostbitten, and resigned to his fate remains slumped behind his steering wheel.  Frozen rivulets of snot plastered to his upper lip.)

KEVIN LAFONTAINE:  Hurrrrrrr Durrrrrrrrrrrr

(he farts, shudders, and surrenders to the cold)

(Cut to scene 7:  Inside the toasty confines of a custom Peterbilt, two nude men lie spooning in the sleeper cab.  The wiry hair on "Big" Dick Augney's stomach clinging like velcro to the thick, coarse hair matted generously over Randy "Dave" Rasmussen's ass.  The smells of armpit sweat, feces, anal lube and semen compete for supremacy in the confines of their love nest.)

RANDY:  I'm stretched wider than a bell-bottom pant leg.  Yeah.  Thats the stuff.   Thank you, "Big" Dick.

"BIG" DICK AUGNEY:  Any time pard'ner.  It was my pleasure...

RANDY:  (interrupts)  But I really gotta be on my way.  I have to see my load through to Salt Lake before 10am.

(Outside, a hot pink Kenworth blasts by. From its now slightly cracked windows wafts the faint, pleasant aromas of vanilla and tuna fish)

"SWEATY" NEGRETTI:  (sighs)  Sonsabitches.

(Cut to scene 8:  A custom Peterbilt roars past a stalled Dodge Neon, whose windows are now covered in frost.  The truck driver, Randy "Dave" Rasmussen, does a double take as he thinks in passing that he can make out the silhouette of a person slumped over the steering wheel.)

RANDY:  Sorry pal.  Can't stop now.  Those school children in Salt Lake need this load of pencils and I plan to see them through!

(The custom Peterbilt rumbles on through the night.)


To be continued...

(UPDATE  7:30pm:  title changed)

Information Requested

Does anyone know of a website that offers or facilitates opportunities for guys to meet and date military wives whose husbands are away on deployment? 

Would you rather watch the opening ceremonies for the Vancouver Olympics or be hospitalized in a coma for a month?

Personally, I'd take the coma for a month because I know that the coma would eventually end.  The opening ceremonies NEVER end.

Incidentally, why are winter Olympic games never held in the southern hemisphere?   The fact that they are only held in the northern hemisphere is inherently racist.

Iran was supposed to deliver a telling blow yesterday

Did anyone catch what it was?

I waited all day for it, but as the day wore on I found myself becoming impatient.  I tried to temper my expectations for their promised telling blow.  I considered the possibility that they weren't talking about a "telling blow", but rather a "kilo of blow" and that somehow that promise was skewed in the interpretation. 

Then I played WoW for a while and went to bed.

Jim Treacher posts upskirt shots

Probably trying to boost traffic.

Incidentally, I still think he's a boob.   Kind of like Kenny Mayne, except not as funny...and a boob.

Another teaser exerpt from my forthcoming novel

"If you don't stop fellating me" I replied, "I'm going to tell my wife."

Its thinking like this that convinced the Australians to fall into lock step with Nazi Germany before world war 2

Tim Blair went off the deep end.

"pacifist hippie types who believe in global warming are in fact the most hawkish of Australian defenders."

Wow.

Another possible way to stimulate job growth

Just to take the previous post a step further, wouldn't it fix a whole butt load of problems if government were to mandate that small business hire people if they earn profits above an arbitrary threshold?

For instance, its really not unreasonable for a family owned polymer-injection business, or a start-up pinking enterprise to be required to bring on another worker if that business makes more than $20,000 in profits, or they could be required to take on a migrant worker if they pass a $10,000 profit threshold.

This is not a bad idea.

How To Stimulate Small Business Jobs Growth

As a runner-up to the Milford Regional Chamber of Commerce Businessperson of The Year in 2007 I know a thing or two about business and economics. For instance I know that this purported letter from a conspicuously anonymous, alleged reader of the reactionary conservative rag, the National Review is hogwash:

Small business will start to hire when one big thing happens.

Sales Growth. End of story.

This goes beyond simple intellectual dishonesty and charges head-first to the realm of deliberate misrepresentation.  There is no correlation between small business' hiring practice and sales growth. Only the presence of robust regulation can create an environment conducive to increased employment opportunity in the private sector. By extension, government expansion is a necessity if one wishes to create a job-friendly atmosphere.

That the Chinese blame President Obama for deteriorating relations between our countries draws right thinking people to one inescapable conclusion:

Clearly, the Chinese are assholes.

Fine. I'll come right out and say it in simple English

The BCS needs Orrin Hatch more than Orrin Hatch needs the BCS.

Prince Harry is a ginger kid?

Heh

I mean...seriously...did you catch that State of the Union?

Wow!

That's all there is to say about that.

While I continue to bask in the usual post State of The Union afterglow

I'm struck by the pathetic attempts by the teabagger wing of the rethuglican party to rally around Alito, who they have cynically placed ona pedestal after his unprofessional and cowardly verbal assault on President Obama.

You know that the teabaggers are only doing this as a ploy to establish their own shallow diversity credentials.  What better way to do that than by rallying around a guy with an asian name?  Below the surface however, the magnitude of their folly becomes apparent, considering Justice Alito doesn't even look Japanese.

It is easy to forget that Obama is black

It makes perfect sense. President Obama has lighter skin and does not speak with a negro dialect unless he wants to.

I too forgot for an hour that He was black.

Obama knocked it out of the ballpark tonight!!1!

Wow!

If there was a feature available via blogger wherein I could advertise my current emotional status, mine would be set to read 'aroused'!

Listening to Obama tonight I completely forgot he was black.

I am totally pumped up for the State of the Union speech tonight

I mean it.  I am PSYCHED! 

You should be too.  Think about it.   How many times do you have the opportunity to see PRESIDENT BARRACK OBAMA speaking on NATIONAL television?   This is awesome. Freakin' awesome!

I thought about live blogging it but I found last time I did live-blogging an event of this magnitude (a lot of you dont remember but I live-blogged 9/11) I dont have as much time to pay attention to what he is saying.   I would like to hear the message as it is spoken.  The spoken message. 

Do you dig that?

You sonsabitches! I am NOT DAVID AXELROD!

GIVE IT A REST

Pernicious rumors perpetrated by teabaggers

FYI I am not David Axelrod and I am not astroturf. I am a real human being with real human emotions. I also have a very common name, but don't take my word for it. Look in your local phone book. In my local area alone, there are three Ellie Light's listed.

As for the letters from other Ellie Light's in other areas throughout the nation, if you read the letter with an open mind you will see that my points are common sense and reality based and that anyone, even another Ellie Light could easily have come up with the same material.

US woes can't be cured over night. Solutions take time. Obama never promised solutions would be quick and easy

A YEAR AGO, if we'd read that employers were hiring again, that health-care
legislation was proceeding without a bump, that Afghanistan suddenly was a nice
place to take kids, we'd have known we were being lied to. We knew the problems
President Obama inherited wouldn't go away overnight.

During his campaign, Obama clearly said that an economy that took eight
years to break couldn't be fixed in a year, that Afghanistan was a graveyard of
empires and would not be an easy venture for us. Candidate Obama didn't feed us
happy talk, which is why we elected him. He never said America could solve our
health care, economic and security problems without raising the deficit.
Instead, he talked of hard choices, of government taking painful and contentious
first steps towards fixing problems that can't be left for another day.

Right after the election, we seemed to grasp this. We understood that
companies would be happy to squeeze more work out of frightened employees, and would be slow to hire. We understood that the banks were lying when they
said they'd share their recovery. That a national consensus on health care
wouldn't come easily. Candidate Obama never claimed that his proposed solutions
would work flawlessly right out of the box, and we respected him for that.

Today, the president is being attacked as if he'd promised that our
problems would wash off in the morning. He never did. It's time for Americans to
realize that governing is hard work, and that a president can't just wave a
magic wand and fix everything.

Welcome the newest member of the team

I'm happy to announce that none other than Ellie Light has agreed to join the Trenton Powers blog team. 

Ellie has published letters in numerous newspapers across the country, including Philadelphia Daily News, San Francisco Examiner, Mansfield News Journal, and numerous others.   Her steadfast support of President Obama's agenda and has gained renown nationwide and further solidifed her already impeccable progressive credentials.

This week in unfortunate team names

The University of Utah women's gymnastics team, which struggles with its own unfortunate team name is going to compete tonight against Georgia, whose women's team bears the unfortunate nickname:  gym dogs.

I've seen their website.  They aren't dogs.  Most of them have huge thighs, but thats pretty hot when you think about it.

What does one blog about on a slow news day?

I imagine God, omnipotent, omniscient sitting astride his heavenly throne surveying all he created.  Every snowflake falling by his design, every life form in the universe existing by his will.  Knowing all and seeing all...

...and laughing like a madman as bobsled racer Gillian Cooke tore the ass end of her bodysuit.

Stupid Russians

HA HA

They're buying Canadian currency now.

But the joke is on Ivan.   Canadian money doesn't work in vending machines!  

HA HA HA HA

fools

I think if the rest of the country held a vote over whether or not to sink Massachusetts into the ocean

Several million Bostards would need galoshes.

I'm writing a new book. Here's a teaser

Watching her emerge from the pool, I was transfixed by her awe inspiring beauty.  A body chiseled in granite by ancient gods.  Beads of water teased her bronzed breasts and traced enticing rivulets down legs built for high heels.  Her mahogany eyes pierced my soul, igniting a nuclear furnace in my heart.  From that moment, I made it my mission to one day stick my finger in her bunghole.

No release date yet.

Trying something new for MLK day this year

Instead of toeing this ideological line this year and honoring Martin Luther King through community service, I'm going to deviate slightly from my well documented progressive ideals and try something new.

I'm going to:

• Go to work
• Earn my paycheck
• Pay my own bills
• Feed my own family
• Live within my means

I pledge not to:

• Perpetuate a culture of hopelessness and apathy
• Hold animosity toward others simply because they make more money than I
• Wait for someone else to help me
• Hate those who don't

This is for today only, because it's a holliday.

The longer the Golden Globes wears on without incident, the lower the chance of a sniper attack

Maybe next year.

Five years ago, American military response to a natural disaster in another country populated by people with a different skin color gave us pause...

TIME Magazine,  January 18, 2005   When Aid Breeds Suspicion

But three weeks into the tsunami-relief operation, the U.S. is realizing the limits of its good intentions. The sight of American boots and hardware on Indonesian soil has fueled nationalist fears and stirred suspicions about the U.S. Indonesian newspapers reported last week that a text message was being forwarded around the country that reads, "After Iraq, will Indonesia be the next U.S. target?"

TIME Magazine,  January 16, 2010   The U.S. Military in Haiti: A Compassionate Invasion

Louisiana became the 18th of the United States back in 1812, but you'd never have known it watching the Federal government's ham-fisted response to 2005's Hurricane Katrina. The Obama Administration is doing things differently: Haiti, for all intents and purposes, became the 51st state at 4:53 p.m. Tuesday in the wake of its deadly earthquake. If not a state, then at least a ward of the state — the United States — as Washington mobilized national resources to rush urgent aid to Haiti's stricken people.

Prediction:  Sir John Holmes (no relation...I think...) bites his tongue and does not go all Jan Egeland on us. 


UPDATE (1/18/2010):  France protests Obamas naked aggression against calamity ravaged Haiti.

Fat Dixie Chick conspicuously absent from new Dixie Chick project

The piece on yahoo music does not address rampant speculation that the fat Dixie Chick may be collaborating with Carnie Wilson, Ann Wilson and Stevie Nicks.

I have no idea what those women could possibly have in common.

Dallas Cowboys cheerleading squad: setting reasonable and prudent grooming standards for women everywhere

For over 100 years, the Dallas Cowboys cheerleading squad has set the standard for beauty and grace in the cut-throat NFL cheerleading marketplace.

They work long hours for months on end honing team chemistry and individual technique.

Every move is professionally choreographed.  Timing for highly  specialized dance moves is narrowed to split seconds.  Their precision easily the equal of the United States Marine Corps silent drill team.

Americas sweethearts.  Kind, gentle souls. Never lacking a smile for a crippled or handicap kid or veteran with his legs blown off in 'nam or whatever.

Lean.  Lithe.  Possessed of feline grace and unshakable moral pulchritude.  Keepers of a standard all but lost in contemporary American society.

OMG! SEQUINS!

First Post

Launch Day events:

• To celebrate the launch of the new flagship of the Trenton Powers New Media Empire, I am putting the finishing touches on a ground breaking exposé on the grooming practices of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleading squad. 
• Professor Speng Musselman has agreed to join the team as an occasional guest-blogger and editor at large.