Tags: Obama for President
The cognitive dissonance between reality and the Republican party’s talking points has been particularly dizzying as of late.
This past weekend, Newt Gingrich heralded Sarah Palin’s qualifications on ABC This Week, noting, among other things, her mad flute skillz.
Meanwhile, McCain’s other trophy wife, the Ferdinand Imelda Marcos of haute couteure soft casts (seriously, screw the houses, how many multi-colored soft casts does this lady have for that wrist), defended Palin’s international creds by noting that Palin comes from Alaska, which is really, really close to Russia.
But of all this bullshit, none is more mind-blowing than the glowing praise being heaped upon Old Man McCain every day for hosting a subdued convention in the wake of Hurricane Gustave. Kerry Healey, the Imelda Marcos of battery-operated love toys (take my word for it), told Emily Rooney that McCain’s mature handling of the convention – putting the country first! – was in stark contrast to the substance-free glamour of the Democratic National Convention.
And last night, Joe Leiberman said:
“What you can expect from John McCain as President is precisely what he has done this week.”
McCain himself told Chris Wallace on Fox News:
“It wouldn’t be appropriate to have a festive occasion while a near tragedy or a terrible challenge is presented in the form of a natural disaster.”
No, John? Wouldn’t it be? That’s odd because a few years ago, when a real tragedy – not a “near tragedy” – was unfolding, it seemed like a perfectly OK time to party.
In fact, here’s a photo of the guy who conveniently couldn’t make it to the RNC – he’s very busy, suddenly – presenting you with a birthday cake on the very day that Hurricane Katrina was drowning New Orleans.
So here’s some straight talk express for the Republican ticket. Go fuck yourself, John McCain. And show your tits, Sarah Palin. Seriously. I totally want to see ’em.
*This should not be interpreted to mean that you are stupid if you don’t vote for Obama. I can see why a one might not want to vote for Obama. I don’t agree with it, but I’m open to a rational argument against voting for him.
However, if you vote for John McCain, then yes, you are stupid.
Tags: $3 Trillion Shopping Spree, Dumbass war
But then I decided not to because it seems futile. I have nothing to say. Even a doped-up grad student who spent most of his time on campus gazing lovingly at the exposed thong-tops of freshmen coeds could’ve predicted this clusterfuck. If you think the war has benefited or will benefit America in any way, shape, or form, then you are a retard. Leave this blog now.
However, while performing a Google image search for Arianna Huffington (SafeSearch set emphatically to OFF), I stumbled upon The $3 Trillion Shopping Spree, a nifty site recently linked to by The Huffington Post, which Lucy the Dog sometimes contributes to under the pen name of “Deepak Chopra”.
The shopping spree gives you a chance to fritter away $3 trill and damn near two hours, filling a shopping cart with the money our president invested in “occupying Iraq and killing over a million people.”
You’d be surprised how far $3 trillion goes. I could only spend $2,239,298,606,460.96 before I ran out of steam. I mean, I could’ve thrown in some debt relief for Liberia or treatment for malaria, but fuck that. I’m not one to spend just because the money’s there. The remainder will do just fine in my ING Orange savings account, thank you kindly.
So here’s the list of what I bought. I encourage you to make your own list and then feel totally annoyed by this colossal waste of dough over the last five years.
B-2 Bomber – 1 purchased for $2,200,000,000
Just because I oppose the Iraq War doesn’t mean I’m some yellow peacenick. Far from it.
With this B-2 bomber, I intend to make Lowell a leading power here in the Merrimack Valley. We will not rule with recklessness. But as Thomas Jefferson wrote in the Declaration of Independence, we will hold the rest of the Valley “as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.”
So be on notice, Merrimack Valley. Lucy the Dog has a B-2 bomber, and she will bomb the shit out of you. Continue Reading Keep the Change…
Tags: Dubya, halitosis, Mitt relating to the black folk, political posturing on Martin Luther King Day
And his breath stinks like dookie, yo.
And if you’re still wondering who let the dogs out, you are not alone. Mitt Romney wants to solve this mystery too. His quest provides the awesomest video of all time after the jump.
Photo taken by Saul Loeb, Getty Images; found on Andrew Sullivan.
Is that enough attribution, Perry Ellis, you little goodie-two-shoes? I will destroy you. Now go watch a man so white he makes you look like Isaac Hayes.
Much buffering required.
“I support you sir, and we got no beef. I’m just a rapper, you commander in chief.”
On the surface, they might not seem to have much in common. But I imagine George and Hammer would get along just swell. George teaches Hammer how to clear brush. Hammer teaches George that baggy-pants dance where you slide from side to side on your tip-toes.
Yes, this pair of simpletons would be fast friends for sure. George and Hammer, living in their pretty, technicolor world, where Jesus sprinkles happy dust and evildoers are brought to justice.
“I support you and the war on terror. And I prayed for you when you made that error. This is not the enemy, this is from a friend. Bring our boys home and in the end we all win.”
So true, Hammer. In the end, we all win. So listen to a kindred spirit, George. Just pick up that phone. And bring our brothers home.
(This one’s way long. To skip the BS and get to this Friday’s big recommendation, scroll down until you see Rosie Ledet’s delicious legs.)
Things have not gone as planned. Eventually, these feelings were to subside. The lust for fried eggplant dripping with crawfish sauce would pass. The sousaphone pumping through my head would take a break. The dreams and the longings; the taunting thoughts that each day away from New Orleans is a day wasted. All of this would go away.
But if anything, conditions only worsened.
It’s been a month since we returned from Jazz Fest, our first trip to New Orleans since The Thing. We’ve been to five Fests now, and while I realize the city is hardly the utopia that we tourists experience, I can’t get past the fantasy that it is the place for me. The place I should be, now more so than ever.
This long-standing obssession once focused on the obvious – the music, the characters, the sunshine, and the food. Proximity to the Peacemaker Po Boy at Acme’s. Sharing the jukebox at Igor’s with a semi-deranged drunk who’s never been outside the city. The ability to hit Vaughan’s any Thursday night and hear Kermit Ruffins.
I’d stream WWOZ each morning and listen in agony as the DJ read the ‘LiveWire’ – the lineup of that night’s acts. “Now go listen to some live music, baby.” But how can I? I’m all the way up here!
(The fact that all the ladies call you ‘baby’ is better than anything the frosty northeast has to offer. In Lowell, I’d be satisfied if a stranger walking by called me ‘mother-fucker.’ At least it would constitute some form of recognition, and maybe there’d even be a little eye contact thrown in.)
Those letters to Congress bear their fruit today, dear readers. I can no longer ignore your persistant demands and grass-roots tenacity. You win. So today, we’ll stick our heads back in the noose. Are you happy? Stop e-mailing me. (And that means you, Pelosi.)
The week seems like it was just yesterday. It started out strong, with people coming together. But by the middle of the week, everybody was kung-fu fighting. And by Friday, I’d lost interest altogether. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves!
On SUNDAY, Roger Clemens reunited with the Yankees, who promised to pay him $8,000 for each pitch he throws. That may not sound like much. But when you consider the Yankees already gave him a Hummer for retiring, it’s not a bad deal for him.
Also reuniting MONDAY was Bill O’Reilly and Lucy the Blog reader Henre. The pair was romantically linked for years, but their relationship crumbled in 2003, after O’Reilly declared fatwa on the Frenchman’s homeland. For as Thomas Jefferson famously wrote in 1948, “The red, white, and blue must always come before genital loofah messages.”
O’Reilly believed Jefferson’s words, and he lived them every day. But even a patriot has needs, so the Factor Warlord finally called off the dogs. The lure of Henre’s pusierre was just too much for Bill to bear. So yet again, love conquers all and France is back in business. Good luck!
For the next few days, Lucy the Dog is ridin’ on the City of New Orleans. It’s time to get funky.
We’ll be back Tuesday, April 30th.
And on that day, fair reader, all will be revealed.
This was a week of taking stands here in the noose. Integrity and Resolution won the day. Good stared down evil. And children set aside their guns and raised their eyebrow clippers.
On MONDAY, MSNBC took a stand against insensitivity that negatively affects revenue. Iraqis took a stand against four years of “occupation” by the
United States Coalition of the Available. And Pakistani Minister of Tourism, Nilofar Bakhtiar, took a stand against her local Board of Fatwa.
The Board issued a fatwa after Bakhtiar commited a “great sin” by hugging a foreign man, according to my sources at Fox News. (Lucy the Dog gets her weed from the same guy as Shepherd Smith.) The foreign man was a skydiving instructor, who assisted Bakhtiar at a charity parachute jump in France. Money raised from the jump went to victims of the Pakistan earthquake of 2005. Infidel!
But you don’t have to be a Minister of Tourism to take a stand. You can be David Hughes of Beaver County, Pennsylvania. Hughes, previously charged with disorderly conduct, took a stand after paying $10 of his $281.50 fine. That was enough, he said! But a judge disagreed, causing Hughes to threaten him with death. To drive his point home – and yes, close reader, I did say drive! – Hughes rammed his automobile into two police cars. Then he punched them and raised his middle finger.
On TUESDAY, stands were taken against Girls Gone Wild creator Joe Francis and the misunderstood Pacman Jones . Suresh Kumar took a stand by cutting off his tongue and offering it to Hindu goddess Kali (You may also remember Kali as the female winner from Real World/Road Rules The Gauntlet, Season Three.) After cutting off his tongue, Kumar wrote a note to reporters, saying:
“I am a true disciple of the goddess and it is my firm belief which has given me the strength to offer my tongue to her.”