I had planned to avoid political discussion as much as possible. At this stage, with government being utterly compromised and diseased to the point that only euthanasia seems practical, what’s the point of debating Tangerine Caligula’s latest outrage? Looking into my crystal ball, however, I can see that my self-imposed gag order isn’t going to hold.

In preparation for the eventual ranting, let me give you a few key insights into my base positions.

All politicians — 100% of them — are liars, cheats and thieves. Bernie Sanders, Hillary Clinton, Mitch McConnell the Human Scrotum, Paul Ryan… they are all equally terrible. They are all criminals, bought and paid for by the monied interests who shove dirty hands up each of their asses and puppeteer them. Fuck them all.

Yes, the Circus Peanut IS worse because he ISN’T a politician. He’s a capitalist. A business man. A fucking real estate developerfor fuck’s sake. He has proven once and for all that there is social standing lower, less trustworthy, more reprehensible than mere politician.

Lastly, our democracy is dead. It died decades ago, when the richest 5% began increasing their wealth by orders of magnitude, allowing them to simply purchase elected officials wholesale. Until recently, we live in an oligarchy. That isn’t the result of simple empirical observation; Professors Martin Gilens from Northwestern University and Bejamin Page from Princeton published a data-driven study that finds the same truth.

Of course, the Executive branch is something else; a combination of kleptocracy and kakistocracy.

All of these are things to be discussed in days to come. However, you likely won’t be able to read them once they allow the ISPs to choke off huge swathes of the internet.

When is the meteor coming?

I think I can finally unclench. I mean, Obama’s been in office an entire day and no on has shot him yet. We just might make it through this mess after all.

I admit I’ve been skeptical. A part of me really believed that Cheney/Bush might just make use of those various Executive Orders and stage an excuse to declare matrtial law rather than leave office. I’m sure the idea was debated. Probably those with cooler heads realized that might actually have been enough to make people revolt. Well, if there was nothing interesting on television.

So, yeah, I’m cautiously optimistic. It’s weird, too. Optimism on me is like a size 2 thong on a rhinocerous; it’s disturbing, uncomfortable and plainly doesn’t fit. Still, I’m gonna give it a shot.

I’ve been going out on auditions again, and it’s actually been fun. I’m finally old enough to play the characters I get called for, and that’s great. I’m also in the planning stage of the next big SexZ epic. More on that as the details gel…

I realize I’ve already posted my lists for the year, but I always find that it makes it easier to move forward with purpose and optimism if you take the time to analyze the year past in more detail… delve into the forces that shaped events on a personal – and global – level (and, really, is there a difference?)


Here, then, is a look back at the events, both small and large, that embodied 2008 for me. And, by extension, for you.

Obviously, the single event that defined this year, and molded everything that followed was the surprise publication in March of Laura Bush’s tell-all autobiography, My President, My Husband, My Monster, that led to a bodycount worthy of Hamlet and the kind of chaos that can only result when brutal truth is unleashed on a soporific, despondent mock-democracy like ours.

For the few of you who haven’t read the book (I’ve still got an incredibly rare first U.S printing that I kept well-hidden during the weeks of attempted suppression when Bush/Cheney declared anyone owning the book to be an enemy combatant and disappeared nearly 100,000 people – including Rupert Murdoch and most of the HarperCollins staff – to various extraordinary rendition prisons around the world for “questioning”), believe me, the hype doesn’t do it justice. In her surprisingly well-written memoir, Laura Bush tells how she believes she married and assisted in the rise to power of the AntiChrist in the person of her husband.

For many of us, our reaction was “welcome to the party, hon.”

Being a deeply religious woman, this belief plagued Laura. Not only was George W. the son of Lucifer, she was certain that his closest advisors were the personifications of various greater and lesser demons, and identified each by name, finally revealing that Dick Cheney was – as we had long suspected – Beelzebub. After years of suffering the presence of this scourge to her faith, she decided she had to speak.

On a less metaphysical level, Laura also laid bare the disturbing, disgusting and hateful inner workings of the most secretive administration in history. She confirmed that her husband was, in fact, a highly-functioning moron who could barely read the simplest of sentences, much less understand them; a real-world Forrest Gump for the 21st century. In one delightfully ingenuous passage, she relates how W. came to her after the September 11th attacks to explain that he sat in that Florida classroom reading My Pet Goat not because he was frozen with indecision (as we all thought), but because he was stuck on the word “barnyard” and was trying to sound it out without moving his lips.

Of course, Laura tells us, she and George had known the attacks were coming that day; he had simply forgotten. Had it not been a prologue to more than seven years of the most destructive neo-fascism our country has ever seen, you could almost feel sorry for the poor dope.

Another anecdote relates how “Dubbie,” as Laura called him (we’re led to believe the nickname “Little George” was reserved for other uses), would frequently mistake her for his mother during his pre-Whitehouse coke-and-booze binges, and demand to nurse, reacting violently if she refused. Apparently Laura (who admits earlier in the book that she graduated from the University of Texas “on her back”) found this charming until the twins were born, at which point she explains “I often wished I had a third teat.”

This practice of literally wetnursing her husband continued throughout his two terms as president.

“After particularly stressful events, especially press conferences or television appearances, Dubbie would come nuzzling and there was only one way to relieve his tension,” wrote Laura. “Luckily, the Good Lord blessed me with an ample supply of milk. It’s sinful to say it, but I was almost grateful for the war in Iraq. George was never more at ease with himself and the world than he was when he was killing something.”

All of this was damaging enough, but the real destructive power of My Monstercomes near the end of the book. In the final chapters, Laura Bush reveals that the relationship between George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Karl Rove, Alberto Gonzales, Donald Rumsfeld and the rest of the “Cabal of the Anti-Christ” was much more intimate than anyone had ever imagined, or wanted to imagine. She tells how Bush and the greater and lesser demons would gather at various locations – the Crawford ranch, Cheney’s hunting lodge, the Bush family home in Kennebunkport – for sadomasochistic homosexual orgies, or “rituals,” as Laura refers to them.

It was arriving unannounced at one of these rituals that was the final straw for Laura Bush. She describes in detail making a surprise stop at Crawford with the twins in tow, only to discover a secret door left ajar into a basement room she didn’t know existed. Curious, the three Bush women walked through the door to find a blood-chilling tableau: George W. Bush, the President of the United States and Laura’s husband, wearing Laura’s wedding dress, on his back, crying out in a ludicrous falsetto while being sodomized by a naked, sweaty, corpulent Dick Cheney.

At the other end of the room, Alberto Gonzales – dressed as Sailor Moon – was on all fours tossing Karl Rove’s salad and fucking himself with a dildo molded to look like the Virgin Mary.

While passages like this sent Laura’s book immediately to the top of the sales charts in porn shops all around the country (and inspired the “Gonzales Moon” ball recently held in San Francisco), it wasn’t quite so popular with the President’s “base.”

These were people who claimed not just to hold and cherish, but to virtuallyown Christian Family Values. The graft and corruption? Childsplay. Being complicit in the 9/11 attacks? A necessary step in the War on Terror. Drugs, booze, nursing at the age of 61? Personality quirks. Possibly being the Antichrist? Well, that just makes him an agent of the Lord bringing the End Times ever closer.

But deviant sex with a man? That was something that couldn’t be tolerated.

The book was printed secretly in France, and delivered unmarked to bookstores in the middle of the night. It was also released on the internet, and an immediate firestorm of righteous Republican vengeance was unleashed.

Predictably, Laura Bush was immediately assassinated, though we were told at the time it was “pulmonary failure.” Using the provisions of his own Executive Orders Bush declared martial law, collected every copy of the book that could be found for destruction, instituted the renditions and disappearances mentioned earlier, and crippled three of the internet “backbone” servers to keep the public from reading Laura’s act of contrition.

But it was too late. After 7 weeks of near anarchy, a joint task force made up of Navy SEALs, Marine Recon fire teams, Green Berets and embittered Log Cabin Republicans stormed the Whitehouse (where Bush and his Cabal had been holed up since the first publication), killing several dozen Secret Service agents.

Alberto Gonzales tried to escape through the President’s evacuation tunnel that leads out of the Whitehouse, but was caught and skinned alive by a group of angry Larry Craig supporters. Bush, Cheney & Rove barricaded themselves in the Oval Office. The standoff lasted for ten days with Colin Powell and Henry Kissinger trying to cajole the three Hellspawn into surrendering, but it was not to be.

A gunshot was heard within the Oval Office, and the SEAL demolition team blew the heavily-armored door. The smell of rotting flesh was powerful. Behind the desk, Cheney held the naked body of George W. Bush, who he had apparently just shot through the head. Cheney growled, “go fuck yourself,” to the assembled soldiers and took his own life.

It was apparent that Rove had been dead for days. Bush and Cheney had been peeling off strips of his flesh and eating them to survive.
In accordance with the Constitution, Nancy Pelosi became the first female president in history, but only for a few weeks. The power-mad Pelosi, whose grasp on reality was tenuous at best, snapped completely when handed the reins, and ordered that martial law continue. This lasted until she had Condoleeza Rice’s head mounted on a gigantic, sharpened steel penis statue at one end of the reflecting pool after which many of the same Marines, SEALs and Green Berets gathered to remove her from office in much the same way.

Actually involved in their own political system for the first time in living memory, the American people – disgusted with the complete lack of viable candidates on both sides – elected Al Gore as the nation’s first write-in president. Gore was so reticent to accept the job he had to be physically extradited from Geneva (yes, by the same SEALs, Green Berets and Marines), cementing, in most people’s minds, the notion that he was the right man for the job.

How he’ll do as we move into 2009 remains to be seen, but after the last eight years, there’s nowhere to go but up.


Oh, that wacky president Cheney… The enduring destruction he and his other oval office cronies have wrought through their hand-puppet George just isn’t enough. They’re going to push through war with Iran no matter what it takes.

Here’s the latest spin from the “if it weren’t so fucking dangerous it would be laughable” pile. This exchange is from Tim Russert’s show:

RUSSERT: First you threatened to take action if Iran built a nuclear weapon. Now you’re threatening to take action if Iran knows how to build a nuclear weapon. What’s next? You threaten to take action if Ahmadinejad dresses up as a nuclear weapon for Halloween?

CHENEY: Well, the difficulty here is, each time he has rejected what he was called upon to do by the international community. I’m not sure now, no matter what he says, that anyone would believe him. He’s pretending he doesn’t have W.M.D., just like Saddam.

RUSSERT: But Saddam didn’t have W.M.D.

CHENEY: He did, Tim.

RUSSERT: He did?

CHENEY: Ever wonder what happened to them?

RUSSERT: What happened to them?

CHENEY: Think about it, Tim.

So lemme get this straight: they’re now going to claim that yes, Saddam DID have WMD the entire time, we never lied about it, he spirited them off to Iran. His mortal enemy. Who we now need to attack to keep them from using them on us.

Hell, starting that third war might be just the ticket needed to put National Security Directive 51 into action. That’s the one that essentially makes the U.S. a dictatorship until further notice.

Are any of us going to survive the next year until we might be free of these cocksuckers?

Okay, I’m breaking my own rule tonight. As I said recently I’m trying to stay away from politics, but I’m so pissed-off spitting-mad at the fucktards who make up the “media” in this country I can hardly speak lately, so rather than sit in my car trying to throttle the ethereal spirit of the NPR correspondent on the radio, I’m gonna get this off my chest.

First, a total digression… is it a requirement that you have a completely F’ed-up name to work for NPR? I’ve long held this theory. I mean, c’mon; all on the same network, you have Uri Berliner (a jelly donut that bends spoons?), David Bianculli (love him in The Sopranos), Claude Brodesser-Akner (what, is that his married name?), Alan Cheuse, Farai Chideya, Andrei Codrescu, Korva Coleman, Audie Cornish, Mandalit del Barco, Ira Flatow (sounds like a sound effect from theBatman TV show), David Folkenflik (hey, that’s what we make! Folkenfliks!), Tom Gjelten, Don Gonyea (penicillin can cure that), Vertamae Grosvenor, Anya Grundmann, Annabelle Gurwitch (loved her in Harry Potter and the Dementor’s Mistress), Maria Hinojosa, Adam Hochberg (city of phlegm?), Charlayne Hunter-Gault, Steve Inskeep (better than Steve B&B I guess), Xeni Jardin (who came to one of our orgies once, no BS), Robert Krulwich, Frank Langfitt, Daniel Pinkwater (the runoff from a gay bathhouse?), Sylvia Poggioli, Snigdha Prakash (I love these with vindaloo sauce), Ofeibea Quist-Arcton, Nora Raum, Julie Rovner, Elizabeth Shogren (Cthulhu’s little sister?), Joanne Silberner (who has a face made for radio and a voice made for print), Lakshmi Singh, Nina Totenberg (city of death?), Neda Ulaby, Nick van der Kolk, Linda Wertheimer, Eric Westervelt, Doualy Xaykaothao, John Ydstie, Jim Zarroli and Daniel Zwerdling.

Just a little side-trip. Sorry.

So everyone knows that the Dems are gonna take the House in November, and possibly even, if the wind blows the right way, the Senate, right? I mean, the polls are overwhelming, the data continues to show a sharp decline (about time fer fuck’s sake!) in King George the Retard’s approval ratings, and by extension, the rest of the cocksuckers and scumbags who’ve had control for the last 12 years, i.e. the Republican Congress.

(I should mention at this point — a second digression, with my apologies — that in my book, ALLpoliticians are liars, cheats and thieves, and I do not believe a single word any of them says,EVER. PERIOD. I believe they are all bought and sold, often by interests most of us will never see record or hear the names of. I find the Democrats to be marginally less offensive than the Republicans simply because the Dems are in the pocket of interests I deem to be a frisson less harmful to the national interest. The Republicans are now so firmly entrenched in being the lapdogs of religious whackos that they have become dangerously evil. The Democrats are a more harmless brand of evil.

I should also explain that Little Boots — or The Retard King — and his cronies are significantly more evil and destructive than any group of scum that have held the President’s office in our lifetime, and anything that damages the despotic reign of the forces who pull li’l W.’s strings is a good thing, period. If you think I’m being melodramatic, tell me when in our lifetime a President has been granted despotic powers and given the ability to suspend habeus corpus at will without oversight?

Yup. Never.)

Okay. Whew. Ya see why I avoid political blogging?

So anyway, everyone knows the Dems should sweep in November. Except Karl Rove. Old Karl seems pretty goddamned certain that the powers-that-abuse are going to stay seated when November’s musical chairs fiasco has run its course. Smug, even. Like the cat that ate the canary.

Now, I know Karl is a sucker of Satan’s cock and a consummate liar, but I find it disconcerting that he would be willing to go on the record stating categorically that the Dems won’t take either house of Congress and made to look like an ass (I think he likes looking like an asshole, but that’s a semantic discussion for another day).

So what’s going on? Well, obviously, the same fucking thing that went on in the 2004 elections.THE FIX IS IN, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS! I mean, how fucking ignorant are Amercians? How gullible are the media pundits? Can’t we call this what it is?

A. Fix.

It wasn’t enough to learn that Warren O’Dell promised to deliver Ohio to the Republicans, just before that state gave Bush his second presidency against all odds and exit polls, amidst a flurry of some of the most heinous voting “discrepancies” recorded since JFK won Illinois from a landslide of support by dead folks (hey, Kennedy was really popular with the anti-Eisenhower Cadavers Club). It isn’t enough that Diebold’s machines have been shown to be easily hackable even if the Luddite voting volunteers follow the security protocols.

Which, incidentally, only 37% of them do correctly. And it isn’t enough that neither Diebold or ES&S will allow their “proprietary” voting machine software to be inspected or audited, even by the Secretaries of State who bought the fucking things. And it isn’t enough that less than 30% of the electronic voting machines in this country offer a paper trail.

People will still line up at the polls like lowing cattle to do their pointless civic duty, and when they check the news the next morning to discover that somehow, miraculously — by a very thin, the thinnest of margins, even (these aren’t dumb guys… except George, who is rock-fucking-stupid) — the Republicans have held onto both houses, no doubt through the mysterious workings of god’s will and a shitload of corporate money, blah, blah, blah… the cattle will be disappointed and surprised.

And they will do… nothing. Because no one really cares. In survey after survey, people have expressed overwhelming doubt of their elected representatives’ honesty and integrity. And yet, they vote for them anyway, because what else is there to do? Apathy has killed activism. Accepting the truth is hard because it requires either A: drastic action, or B: acquiescence. Neither is easy.

Ignorance is way easy. Dude.

I’ve been telling people about the problems with E-voting machines since 2002, and unless I’m talking to someone who’s just as paranoid, sociopathic, and prone to looking at the big picture as I am, their eyes glaze over. They shrug and seem to forget the whole thing before we’ve even finished discussing it because it’s an insoluble problem without tearing the whole system apart.

When I heard the broadcast announcing the Presidency for Bush in 2004, when Ohio was the deciding factor, I knew exactly what had happened. I knew Ohio had paperless Diebold machines, and when precincts that hadn’t voted for a Republican president since Warren Harding began reporting big margins for Bush, it was obvious what went down.

It took two years for that info to make it into the mainstream press. The serious reportage into all the varieties of vote-stealing and blocking that went on in 2004 is just beginning, and like the investigations that proved that Gore won Florida in 2000, the final reports will be buried ’cause, gosh, they guy’s already President, and two or three thousand pointlessly dead kids later, what the hell can we do?

And this year, in Ohio, they’ll be voting on those same machines.

I’m not suggesting any big course of action, because, honestly, I’m in the acquiescence camp. I firmly believe that the die has been cast, and that what little influence voters once had in the American political system (and, believe me, it has been extremely minor for the last seventy years or more) is now completely gone. Short of armed rebellion (and someone else will have to start that ‘cuz I’m old an tired and there are Galactica episodes on), we have no more say in the workings of this most-expensive of public injustices .

I point this out merely as a public service for those who do care. I hope more than you can know that I turn out to be wrong, but for the record, when you wake up and see the news on November 8th, and discover that I was right, what are you gonna do?

Whine. Bitch. Moan. Blog. And do nothing. Just like me.

Incindetally, as a P.S., Keith Olbermann has been presenting some truly heroic editorials on hisCountdown show, commentaries worthy of Edward R. Murrow. The best of them is his piece about Bush’s War Commisions Act and how it signals the end of our system of law (no joke; educate yourself because this is serious shit. This nutball can now yank any American off the street, disappear them to some secret prison on foreign soil, and tell no one anywhere. Legally).

You can check that out here:

But you’ll want to watch his other recent stuff as well.

Also, Jack Cafferty has been doing some great stuff on CNN’s Broken Governement specials. Here’s a great clip:

You can also search “CNN Broken Government” on YouTube to find several other interesting clips.

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