Hot Damn! Sock it to me! Roll me over and send me to bed. I was supposed to go places tonight. I did not. I was supposed to be having fun. I am not. Sometimes interacting with others is nothing more than a pain in the ass. Face to face. Voice to voice. Faces crinkle in french fry ways and voices drop below a register to be heard or rise up to decibels of discretion lacking.

Politics eat a man's soul. Munch, munch, munch. Nibble, nibble, nibble. This is not writing. This is redundancy. Something in my gut screams of homogenization that turns my non pasteurized posture poised and placed prior in polarization.

Rant and rave. Become a Dickens man. Rise up against the Chekhov stories. Grab existence by something that should be balls but it be better bounty before bandit like banter. Stand tall and fall hard. Knowing when to say when is something to be valued and never taken for granted.

Why do we all grab harder rather than change our grip? Sullied soiled sarcasm seeks scents of sensual sanctity. Someone help, help me get from A to B. Crossing bridges made of rope dangled above flame licking latitudes longing for lackadaisical longing lavishly listing listlessness.

Come on! Going to bed is sometimes easier then doing anything in order to make a difference. Lying in bed, just like Brian Wilson did.

The perspective of life can be summed up in the juxtaposition of film and book. Take "One Flew Over the Cukoo's Nest". Do we take MacMurphey or do we take the view of Chief? Just give me the shock and the frontal lobe laceration. Sometimes it is easier to just do the time instead of hoping for redemption via the deal. Don't you let that deal go down. "Sailor Song" is a better Kesey book anyhow. "You break it in half you get shit. Try and smoke it."

Woodrow Wilson's dying words were, "The machinery is worn out." Screw the league of Nations, I'll take your coffin talk. Welcome to coffin talk - All the rocks in the box of talk.

I think we should blame the oil shortage and gas crisis on the invention and propagation of polyester - an oil derivative. I LOVE polyester. I love the movie even more. All our problems wrapped up in the gigantic fake breasts of a drag queen. Francine!!!!!!!!

When I thought of the ball of crap considered to be action for the ILLEGALS, I think of the Breakfast Club. "If he gets up, we'll all get up , It'll be Anarchy". I work next door to an Italian immigrant who is an Anarchist. He writes a blog on yahoo. I don't want Anarchy in the U.K. nevermind anywhere else. But I don't want California Uber Alles, Uber Alles California either.

All that news. All that jazz. Do we really wonder why Coltrane did what he did? I'll take his version of "Favorite Things" anyday over anything on Earth. Even sex.

Speaking of the good ol' action of physical unity ... well ... let's not. This is politics not adult. Wait I am not talking politics. I question the validity of me even being an adult. Such silly saunters sashaying sexual soliloquies slip slyly shredding serpentine sustain sold shrewdly. Oh the snake, oh the leather, oh the beard and all you get is death in a tub. Viva la France, viva la France!

Diamonds, Daiseys, ... ! ..., That Girl! When did equal rights become the modern feminist movement? I just thought I would ask. And when did equal gender rights mean that my penis must be kicked inward to make a vagina? If you can explain it to this man, raised in a house with no men and nine women, without getting defensive, emotional, or aggressive let me know.

I often wonder if all the hidden references and play on words in my posts are found. Sometimes they are transparent. Sometimes they are not even there. I know there are times when they are overlooked. Bring back Morton Downey Jr. (http://mortondowneyjr.com/mortondowney.html). I want to chain smoke debate that loud mouth son of a bitch. Guess I need the express elevator to his pine box to sock it to him. If I was born thirty years earlier I could have been that man. Then again, when he was on we also had Howard Stern and Wally George on T.V. Ahhhhh, the good ol' days!

I want to go hop a train and run with the fierce cold frost night air. Turn up my collar and wonder where my supper comes from tomorrow. Pray that warmth will be a gift. Look out the car and grasp the Earth's curves in the glimmer of my pupil's glammer. Sacrifice and pain are sometimes worth it. I rather hop than hip. I love you Easter Bunny!

Crack that whip. Give the past the slip. Step on a crack.  Break your momma's back. Jimmy cracked corn and I don't care. Where is my polka dotted stick bag? I wake up and look at the screen. I am asked, "Do you remember anything, Son?". Pause. Look around. Shake my head. "I remember, umm, I remember the Alamo."

The stars are bright, in the night ...

There's no basement in the Alamo!

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

I want songs that make men cry, women fight, children ask why other children ask why. I don't want male pattern baldness. I don't want prostate issues. I don't want to be a girlie man. I don't want to be a chauvinist. I don't want to be a misogynist. I have know idea where to get viagra. When I see the ads I smile because I have no need. I am no Elliot. I don't know E.D. E.D. phone home!

I exercise, but do not exorcise me. I am no devil. If I were, I would not know if I was. People do not know that they are involved in the covens of  extremist activities. I mean "group" not the association to that of religious affiliation. The Alien has his Reese's Pieces and his Speak and Spell. If you watch Law and Order: SVU than you  know of the gravely deep throat articulation in El-li-ot. If your flavor is The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III then you will know that food is not spelled H-U-M-A-N.

I guess it all comes down to screw that. I'll take a roll in the hay with Cap't Spaulding with all of his clown makeup and anger rather than bed my self down with stupidity.

I find myself giggly when thinking of Gigli. Asslick and Dipshit need no project of any light. I am a prick and think everyone sucks. I do not need lack of intelligence and ability to be rubbed in my face under the guise of righteous behavior. We ALL could do better.

Ok here is the conclusion, baby. Hold me. Talk to me. Understand who I am. Comb my hair when it hurts. Hold my hand when I am scared. Leave my pants alone and be my friend.

We will walk in the red solar flare of a daytime that engulfs and consumes away any sign of the black lonely night.

Give me back the night. I want the shadow of the moon over the mental institution to glide and glow down upon my chain smoking visage next to the shopping carriages that guard the store I used to stock:

It's time to Stop and Shop.

I have no time to shop. I am doing nothing.

Someone give me my quotes and my supermarket coupon card of tracking census blah. I will floss with your chest hair and try not to fight as Monday creeps into the brawl with no fists exchanged ...

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. How easily that slips from our craniums when we secretly find it difficult to have any for ourselves. Crisp sheets. Soft down. The static hum of a fan that really isn't temperately needed. Most of you are snoozing right now. The left coast has it's time zone advantages over the fab East seaboard and it has disadvantages as well. While I should have been tic tacing about on the ol' ergonomic split keyboard, I was trying to revamp the structure and presentation of the posts that I present. I did pretty good or so I think. I am curious as to what your impression is of the "new look".

I listened to Jon Zeigler tonight on the radio, hoping he would respond to one of my numerous e-mails offering my blog posts/pieces/essays for perusal. He didn't. I, in case you don't know, send links to all my posts to not only Rush Limbaugh, John and Ken, William Wolfe Handel Esq., Jon Zeigler but also to anyone of notoriety or anyone that I quote or reference that is mentioned in the post. No responses yet. I am sure if I paid money out to the whores of political connect that they may respond or at least make note of how I use the information they provide. This action is not restricted to just a.m. radio DJ's but to everyone from Ted Nugent, the estate of Frank Zappa, reporters at the Financial Times, CNN, Fox News; I have even sent a link to the White House when  I used statements that they have made. I am quite sure I am on a list somewhere much like my mother is but for very different reasons.

Listening to the a.m. dial while I worked the maze of website construction navigation the dial spun to the fabulous George Noory upon the ten o'clock hour (http://www.coasttocoastam.com/). I remember when I worked graveyard shift in the supermarket in Boston just before Y2K I had a co-worker that enjoyed Art Bell's delusional paranoid  Coast to Coast rants on Saturday nights. Keep in mind this was when Art was convinced that Y2K was going to end the world. He wrote a book about it. He was living in a trailer in the desert, away from everyone and everything, with satellite dishes and radio receivers in order to listen to and recognize the warnings of the Alien invasion. I actually worked that New Year's Eve in the supermarket. It was a crazy couple of weeks leading up to it. I don't think I ever ordered as much product for the shelves as I did back then. We are still here and the computers still work.

Noory started to do his interviews, which tonight included the regular dissertations about aliens and reptilians (the alien race that controls us much like what is shown in the mini series "V" but much more covertly). West of the Rockies call ... East of the Rockies call .. nationally call ... internationally call ... and the wild card line is ... I have never called and, unless there is something I do not for see, I won't. Respect. Alot of it.

My couple of synapse snippets that run rampant through out the ol' noggin vary from plain silly to realistically obscure. Maybe that is why I got exited about Mr. Noory tonight. Maybe it has just been awhile since I had an intimate encounter with my lady. Either way it must be chemical.

I'll sum them all up pretty quick seeing as though you will consume these ideas as either breakfast or Saturday leisure thus making them not as serious as a work day post of in depth reflection. Friday's should be light anyway. To think that I didn't go out and I stayed home to look pretty through a website image. Tonight is my Thursday anyway since I work Saturdays and I have Monday off.

To back stroke to yesterday I want to bring up a DJ that I do not listen to much anymore seeing as I get poor reception to the channel that he has been on since his move in 2004. Phil Hendrie. Have you scene Team America? He is the voice of INTELIGENCE, the computer. He used to be on KFI but no longer (http://www.philhendrieshow.com/). He is AWESOME! If you have not heard him: find him, he is syndicated. He does interviews and takes calls. He is a democrat but he is really rather moderate. I enjoyed his show. His "guests" are nothing more than characters that he has created and he does the voices for them live while conducting the interviews and taking calls all while being the interviewer, the moderator. Most of the people who call in and get through do not get the premise to the program; they do not get the shtick. His "guests" take the most ridiculous view points and allow Phil to become more moderate than he is all while driving the callers and listeners into a fury at the ridiculous level of stubborn viewpoint that these characters represent. His best character, in my opinion, is Bobbi Dooley a homeowners association president living in the valley outside of L.A. Two years ago he ran a program based on the census that claimed that in 2010 that Caucasians would then be the minority. "Bobbi" continuously made these border line racist comments fermented in the whole white suburban brain of ignorance about how we had to get used to being the new minority. The reason I bring this up is that during this "interview", Bobbi's husband is heard playing the juke box in the background as it bellows and blows out marriachi music that you can hear in the distance; Bobbi's husband is making comments for her to relay to Phil. Keep in mind Phil IS all three voices and does such live and the voice change ups are beyond convincing. Bobbi exclaims, to an outraged listener, who has called in in order to scream about the "guest's" racism, that they better get used to the change that is going to happen. Bobbi begins to explain to Phil, who has dropped the caller at this point, that we need to change the National Anthem in order to get along. I am very serious about this. I am quite sure you can find this out, although you may need to e-mail Phil Hendrie in order to legitimize it. I know it to be true. To the big string music of Mexico she begins to recite the lyrics to the Star Spangled Banner. It sounds like a gay Mexican junkie techno anthem and is quite frightening. It IS humorous though. To think that it was two years ago. The insight of talk radio, at times, is amazing and, well, it is FREE.

Reptilians, mariachi, fraudulent guests, conspiracy, paranoia. Drink it down.

I have been told that this applies to my theory of disgust in regards to the reviews of "Flight 93". I actually want to go to the theater to see the film. A little bit of background about me in regards to movie gazing: I do NOT go to the movie house as it is too expensive and I find the intrusive experience of fellow watchers to be too over bearing. The last movie that I saw in the theater was "March of the Penguins", which was for my five year old daughter's sake. The movie I saw before that on the big screen that I paid for was "Titanic". Before that "Trainspotting". I HATE the movie complex/compounds and the fees that are required to participate in what I consider to be nothing more than a headache machine. My little sister (who is fifteen now) at the age of thirteen was the youngest movie theater owner in the world. I am happy that I do not talk to them anymore. I am the only one that has pointed out the offense that I am about to convey and it makes me sad since I financially contribute to the reviewing magazine. Time magazine has been promoted as saying that the film, "Flight 93", is "unmissable". For one, that is NOT a word (much like "gotten" but even worse since it is not even in new dictionaries which shamefully "gotten" is). For two, well, do you see it? Does it strike a chord as it does for me? It affected me the very FIRST time I heard the review. "Unmissable". To lend leniency, unmissable should mean: "not to be able to miss". OK. We'll work with it based on that presumption. On September 11th, 2001 there were four planes meant to hit targets. U.S. targets of government significance meant to be destroyed. One of the weapons (flight 93) that was meant to destroy one of those targets was deterred by the actions of brave American civilian heroes (with standards that we should all strive and thrive to achieve),  and "missed" said target. MMMMMM. Am I still the only one? If you don't get it then please, PLEASE, re-read this paragraph again.

All said and done, most people think I am nuts. But George Noory and Time and commercially supported airwaves makes sense. Uh huh. OK. MMMMM. Should I get a graveyard show? When I worked graveyard there was a 69 year old man named Ed Churchyard. He had Emphysema. He came to work wheezing. We called Churchyard, affectionately, Graveyard. He didn't have a radio show. He is probably dead.

For some reason I did not want to write about the Rush Limbaugh thing. There was a problem. The man fixed it. It is over. Get over it. We ALL have our own weaknesses. The man has enough critics, leave him alone. He's not news, he is talk radio. You take from it what you want. You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes (if you try sometimes) you get shit and die.

Rush comes up as Cape Gerardo Missouri came up on Noory's show. In 1938 there were events that birthed conspiracies there and they continue to this day based on testimony presented on Coast to Coast. Aliens and lizards and characters, oh my!

I guess you have to eat the cabbage (or give it)  to get it! Hopefully not.

When I drove to Colfax, CA via Arcata (which is a twenty hour drive if you do it straight through) a couple of years ago I listened to five,on the hour, consecutive re-broadcasts of George Noory talking about Bigfoot as I tread North towards the Redwood forest stomping grounds of the illustrious beast. Stanking, stinking,  road ways through California, along interstate five, in the middle of the fog filled nights, led to my paranoia of the night.

The most recent caller as of 12:30 a.m. on Saturday  claimed her husband had been fighting space aliens for the government until he was convicted (falsely) for murder and is currently being held at Kern County State prison.

I AM insane. Cigarettes, smoke, and cigarettes. Light 'em up. Smoke 'em if you got 'em. No one does anymore. But I am still here.

I will still be here on Monday. Mo ... mo ... Monday. What does it mean to you and me and everyone in between. Love it, leave it; it doesn't matter because the world will fiscally end on Monday due to the Latino's lack of participation in the world.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Pull out a popsicle. Lick it up ...

 

 

You ALL should know how I feel about the subject of ILLEGAL immigration by now. I promise I will not be redundant and as I have some salad and soup to be a consuming tonight (I was not prepared to post tonight) I will do my best to keep it short. We all have pretty much made up our minds on this subject. I highly doubt there are any fence sitters left. If you do have a picket up your fanny on this one, pull it out and read as much as you can, from as many sources as possible, on this subject and then come spend a week here and I can show you how it affects us in good ol' Southern California. Hell, I'll even pay for your food for a week just so you can live it.

Today, as a matter of fact, I watched not only the standard littering and loitering of the ILLEGAL immigrants behind my work but I also watched three of them piss behind a dumpster. All they had to do was use the public facilities or the private ones that their bosses had in the building just fifteen feet away but no. I think public pissing is a popular past time in Mexico. However, I know if I was down there and did that I would be rotting in the abusive grips of a sadistic Federale in a Mexican prison. And NO that is NOT a stereotype. It is a fact!

Anyhow, anyway, anywho; I was listening to music today for a change but towards the end of the day opted to turn back over to the a.m. dial to catch the John and Ken Show (http://www.johnandkenshow.com/) at around four P.M. My stomach turned. I began to really get nauseous. My face became hot and my brow scrunched up as beads of sweat did a polka down my fore head. I am not exaggerating (I told you a million times, do not exaggerate!), I really became so angry, so lividly, violently, infuriated that my body freaked out and I was close to vomiting. I had to stop and walk out for fresh air and breathe. In. Out. Deeper. Exhale. Calm. Calm. It took all I had to calm down and it does now, as well, while I type this.

I used to like Wyclef Jean. No longer. He can rot in the anus of Beelzebub like the steaming heap of shit that he, in my mind now, is. He has produced a new Spanish Language anthem album for not just the Latino community but for all of us to take a glisten glide listen to. It features a "new" version of our national anthem, The Star Spangled Banner. One second, I am trying to back the puke back down my throat.

Numerous Latino music stars are featured on the track "Nuestro Himno" (Our Anthem) and the entire track is, you guessed it, in Spanish. My problem is that the Spanish version does not match up to our sacred song of national pride. I know someone is going to point out that the war time poem of Francis Scott Key is set to a drinking song and is out dated and blah, blah, blah. I don't care to hear it and I don't give a shit. It is OUR ANTHEM not Mexico's. To me it still means something. I stand and sing it, with hand over my heart, even in my own living room when it is sung for some event on my boob tube. I still feel it in my heart and behind my eyes when I sing it. The overwhelming and puffy eyed teary pride that overwhelms me as I sing will NOT be taken away by a bunch of law breaking, societally degradating interlopers!

Francis Scott Key's great grandson George Key (who lives a mere fifteen minutes from my home in beautiful San Clemente, CA) called the raping of this national treasure "despicable". The Orange County Register quotes him as saying, "The national anthem is for Americans, and that's what it should be - in American English."  (http://www.ocregister.com/ocregister/news/abox/article_1120314.php). I completely agree with the man and, oh yes, he IS the man.

Here are the Latino lyrics spun in the deceiving web of Spanish verbiage:

Our Anthem"
(Translated from Spanish)
Verse 1
Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hail as night falls?
Its stars and stripes floated yesterday
In the fierce combat, the sign of victory
The flame of battle, in step with liberty.
Throughout the night it was said, "It is being defended."
Chorus:
Oh, say! Does it still show its beautiful stars
Over the land of the free, the sacred flag?
Verse 2
Its stars and stripes, liberty, we are the same.
We're brothers, it's our anthem.
In the fierce combat, the sign of victory,
The flame of battle, in step with liberty.
Throughout the night it was said, "It is being defended."
Chorus:
"Oh, say! Does it still show its beautiful stars?
Over the land of the free, the sacred flag?"

Do you need a barf bag? I can pick out at least ten flaws of disgrace in this "version", can you? Pretend it is a Highlights Magazine puzzle and really work it. The problem is that last month a survey was taken of lazy ass, bloated, self centered, greedy, non appreciative, disassociated,disconnected, non caring, disrespectful, take-everything-for-granted, idiot, douche bag Americans which asked them if they knew the lyrics to The Star Spangled Banner (I am assuming the American/English version) and most people can't get past the first line or two accurately. But they all knew how to grab their crotches and spit like Roseanne. Pretty God damned pathetic. This is why we will probably adopt the new Mexican variant as most Americans won't know the difference.

Can't we all just get along? Fuck that! I am really upset in case you can't tell. I am sorry if some of my language offends but at least they are real words and they are English.

According to the press release for the album, radio stations across the country are being asked to play this trash simultaneously tomorrow night at 7 P.M. EST. I can't wait. My toilet is eager with anticipation.

As I am sure it will be played all day on Monday with the big boycott by Latinos (a day with out Latinos) and Mexico's version of it (a day without gringos) I should take the opportunity to let you know about the Great American Spend A Lot. It is a promotion and protest on KFI 640 A.M. in L.A. (http://www.kfi640.com/main.html) that will be taking place on Monday as well. Buy as much as you can on Monday and then fax or e-mail the receipts to the station. From 3 p.m. - 7 p.m. John and Ken will pick out one receipt an hour and reimburse you for your purchases up to 640 dollars. Anyone who is serious about the ILLEGAL immigration debate should participate. I will!

I had to write this. I feel a bit better now but I know that there are too many Americans that do not care about this country because they are too busy caring about themselves and what other people think of them. I am very afraid for this country and I, quite frankly, am repulsed by those of you take it for granted and by doing so are destroying it.

I guess short is not in my vocabulary when it comes to this subject.

And yes I have heard the joke about the name being changed to "Jose Can You See". Ha, ha, ha. I am taking this a bit more seriously than that. 

Tomorrow I am sure there will be plenty to write about. My fever is moving to that of flame broiling as I get angrier and type faster. I hope my keyboard can keep up ...

I started an exercise routine of sorts this week. Time to move it on down the line. I am trying  my best to take it slow but I tend to be someone who dives into the empty pool head first hoping that there will be water in it by the time I hit. I have not been a super healthy fellow these past few years. I have actually beat myself up pretty good with various avocations. Now is the time for change. I weigh in at an awful three hundred and ten pounds. Ouch! Sometimes it is easier to hurt yourself via neglect than it is to stand up and defend yourself from the people that are hurting you.

Tonight I read numerous posts here on the Blogstream. I found a common theme of action, courage and change that permeated the thin skins that seperate our individual pieces of information. So, I thought about what it actual takes to dissolve the membranes of seperation and take action as a whole, even if it is from a subconscience level. Then I began to think about my political topic category. Immediately I thought of gas.

From radio to T.V. to newspapers: Gas, Gas, Gas. I have hinted at my feelings about this topic, not only in my own posts but in my comments to other people's writings as well. Everyone is so pissed off about gas. I listen to what everyone is saying and they are so furious, so angry, that they end up spinning themselves in circles so fast that they end up repeating the same garbage over and over again. Almost as if the increased gas prices have left everyone with short term memory issues that make them think that each time they gripe they are telling us something new.

I could easily reminisce about when I bought gas for .89 cents a gallon in Boston back in '97 but I won't. I could talk about how gas here in Mission Viejo CA, right now, is 3.30 a galloon but I won't. To be honest I have never been that dependent on vehicles. Yes I know the goods I purchase require vehicles to transport them into my everyday life and those vehicles require gas to do so, which I understand, but I am talking more about everyday transportation and travel. All along if I have needed to get somewhere and  motorized transportation was not available I would just walk. Yes, all of my tonnage does know how to walk and can, even though I have just started doing so for exercise again. If everyone in New Orleans remembered how to walk instead of screaming poor mouth than maybe there would have been left stragglers stuck in the ol' Superdome.

I have owned lots of cars. I like cars. Maybe not as much as most men and certainly not as much as my father but I like them all the same. I just know that I don't NEED to use them if I do not want to or can't. Actually, I don't even have a license right now. When I did though I really only used it to travel to and from work. When I was walking tonight I had those damn Ipod ear buds pushed firmly in my auditory canals and I came across a Bob Dylan lyric that applies. "I don't have no sports car and I don't even care to have one. I can walk anytime around the block."  (http://www.bobdylan.com/index.html). Great lyrics from the song "Bob Dylan's Blues" from Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. A liberal man giving us all a lesson that is worth taking note of.

You would think that liberals would be rejoicing about gas prices. We aren't digging or drilling anywhere sacred for new resources. Higher prices eventually mean less travel which means less polution. High gas problems should be saving the world, specifically from global warming! What the hell is the problem? Remember Venzuela has fuel for .14 cents a gallon and Canada is one of our biggest oil suppliers. There are two solutions for the car addicted bitcher. Oh yeah, as I have mentioned before, we are in the middle of national gas prices globally. Fifty percent of the countries are higher, fifty percent lower. That's still not too bad.  Just remember cheap gas means more pollution which means less fluffy clouds scrawled and scratched in titanium white (http://www.bobross.com/).

I am rambling and this post is not turning out how I had imagined it to be. Must be the exercise screwing with brain chemistry.

If you really, really want to fight "Big Oil" than I suggest you take heed to the words of another Bob, Bob Marley. "Why boasteth thyself;Oh, evil men;Playing smart;And not being clever?;I said, you're working iniquity;To achieve vanity (if a-so a-so);But the goodness of Jah, Jah;I-dureth for-I-ver;So if you are the big tree;We are the small axe;Ready to cut you down (well sharp);To cut you down" (http://www.bobmarley.com/).

We all need courage and strength to change the things that upset us. I know on the topic of gasoline that I am in the minority. Seems to be my lot lately. But if change is what is necessary then you must be the "small sharp axe". There are many "big trees" that prevent us from seeing the light or getting through the woods of life.

I am trying to envoke change in my own life. I constantly am trying to provoke debate and thought here in order to help with change in either direction. The lost point of change is the courage and risk required to acheive it. We all can't win popularity contests especially when what we believe is on the line. And bullying people to get what you want is not change, it is bullshit.

I like hearing what people have to say. I like to think. I like to evolve. I am quite often afraid but find solice in the rebirth of my ideas and perceptions based on expanding my knowledge and the debate we all argue out everyday.

Today my post was mitzah mitzah. I call out loud ... Mr. Dobbalina, Mr. Bob Dobbalina. I guess that makes four Bobs, I'm sorry. I know if Moody reads this he will laugh but he is rarely around these days.

I hope that Friday is better. I hope I have more to say. I know I will be here. I hope change is here as well ...

I am going to ease myself back into the saddle of the intended topic: Politics. There are tons of things I suppose I could write about. I could rant on and on and on about the war. I could discredit the gas price hysteria by throwing out some facts and offering Venezuela as an option of inhabitance if three bucks a gallon really "bums" you out. Hell, I could take each letter of the alphabet and do a Sesame Street style bitch session and have it brought to you by some numbers and a letter. The muppets rejoice upon hearing of this option. However the story that stands out to me is one more accustomed to the pages of Mad or Cracked. Here is where I stand and what I have to say.

Cynthia Mckinney! Jeesh! Just the name makes me laugh, nevermind her crazy ass bride of Frankenstein hairdo. On CNN's website they have a video that you can check out of her most recent debacle of words and actions poorly chosen (http://www.cnn.com/video/player/player.html?url=/video/us/2006/04/23/starzyk.ga.mckinney.walks.out.affl). Just pay attention real close all the way through. It is short and well worth the watch. After getting upset and visibly uncomfortable when a reporter brings up the Capitol Hill cop attack, she walks out and with the mic still on says some pretty non consequential things about one of her aids being a fool. The scary and noteworthy part of this video is when she realizes her mic is still on and she marches back into the room where the reporter is. McKinney explains to the reporter that anything she has recorded while Cynthia was not seated in the chair of questioning is not permissible to use as it is private material. Oh how wrong she is. Anything said in public can be used as there is no expectation of privacy like there is say in a home or a public restroom. Imagine what a field day we could have had with either Kerry or Bush or Cheney if they made such ridiculous statements after some of their monumental mishaps. Cynthia McKinney has her head soooooo far up her ass it is a wonder that we can even see that Wilt Chamberlain bad hair day even coming. What a colossal waste of tax payer money. Everyone: remember some of your tax money goes into her stipend and she represents hardly any of us.

All of this McK, McK, McK made me think. Quickly shots and thoughts of William McKinley came rushing through the ol' synapse highway. One of the assassinated. One of our Presidents. A very interesting man. He stood tall, tough, and strong on and about everything he believed in. He could have been one of the last few Presidents to not play a lot of politics but rather accomplish things that, we, the American people wanted. When he was President there were only about 63 million people in the U.S.  There is a McKinley quote that I think is very appropriate to the McKinney fiasco as well as modern politics and Presidents: "That's all a man can hope for during his lifetime - to set an example - and when he is dead, to be an inspiration for history."  What example is Cynthia setting not just for all of us but specifically her constituents? One weird off shoot of the McKinley paragraph: He was President during our run ins with Cuba when the Maine was blown up in the harbor in Havana. Cuba, assassination, stood up for beliefs ... MMMMMMM ... reminds me of another great President we run around trying to live up to.

On the lighter note of the Mck's is a regular down home favorite of mine. If you are ever in Massachusetts you should make a quick stop in Somerville and see McKinnon's Market. This would be the only reason, and I do mean only reason, to go to Somerville (affectionally referred to as Scumerville). If Boston is not on your travelling agenda any time soon well then you can check out their offerings at: http://shop.townonline.com/shop/m/mckinnons/. The reason it applys here, beyond a little relief, is their motto. If you tweek it around a bit in your head and make it apply to civil service, civic duty, and all around participation in politics it becomes a lesson for us all, "Our motto is service, quality, and satisfaction. From cold cut platters to hot hors d'oeurves, we will bring everything but the guests!!"  We are the guests and the food we are currently being served is beyond sub par. I want five star cuisine damn it! All we are getting is mother bird vomit, just enough to sustain us until the next vote. It is very, very sad.

Ok those are the digs. It will be slow coming back into the game with both guns drawn. But you all know, I'm your Huckleberry.

One quick update before my departure. Go to Fox news website's blog section about 3/4th down the page on the left and you will see Natalie Holloway still hiding up inside Greta Van Sustern's skirt. I know they will still be talking about her as they put me in the ol' pine box. Greta: Give It Up!

Til Wednesday comes marching in, I will try to track down the saints. I don't think there are many left, so I will settle for Wednesdays of which there are plenty ...