Topics

He/She/It turned 35 yesterday.


It is the furthest, and getting furtherer, man-made object from the Sun.  Apparently it is due to cross into interstellar space sometime in 2025, and if it's still functioning (i.e. doesn't run out of power) we'll get some interstellar science.  Wouldn't that be a hoot?

Now someone make some damned coffee!!!!

You know, the thing....why do you do it?

http://vitals.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/08/27/13509508-teen-pot-use-linked-to-decline-in-iq?lite


A study that links marijuana use in teens with a drop in IQ that the scientists equate with a student going from an A student to a B student.  The study showed no noticeable impacts amongst those who started marijuana as an adult, which isn't too surprising.  The science has long been clear that the later in life one starts on drugs, the better, relatively speaking.


Interesting study.

No really.  It's called "Don't Roof Rack Me, Bro" and is a send up of the incident where the Romney family strapped their dog to the roof of their car while travelling to a vacation spot. 

http://entertainment.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/08/15/13300685-hear-it-now-devo-unleashes-song-about-mitt-romneys-dog?lite


Haven't listened to it yet, but I imagine it will be good.

I told him taking the job at the airport was a bad idea.

In a statement he said, "We just weren't seeing eye to eye."


More at 11!

This just in, cartographer gets his stolen map back.


He is quoted as saying, "Oh, what a relief!"


More at 11!

Anyone remember The Banana Splits?  I do.  I was just reminded of them when a little, bouncy ball, sing-along thing popped up on Boomerang and played their theme song.

Anyhoo, that was a good show.  The cartoons and live-action shit in between the Splits were pretty lame, but the Splits themselves were pure genius.  Why?  Because it was obvious they didn't give a fuck, and whoever wrote what they did on the show didn't give a fuck.  It's four psychadelic walking sofas running into walls, telling awful pun-laden jokes, and just having some pure, unadulterated, STUPID fun. 

It wasn't contrived.  It was just what it was.  America NEEDS more of that shit.  Sure, everyone has fun, well most people.  I don't think Dick Cheney ever has fun.  Demonic cold glee is not the same thing as fun.  But there needs to be more weird.  Not Johnny Depp being a gay-pirate weird or some orange-mopped recluse.  You know, wierd.  You just let every dumb thing out and CUT LOOSE. 

Run around like a damned fool.  Cheer the photo copier.  Give your Administrative Assistant a colorful, but friendly, Raspberry.  I dunno, America just need to learn to Rock Fun.  Rock it like it's never been Rocked before. 

Not just loosening up, but loosening THE FUCK up and wig out.

Be known to let the weird.......DROP!

He got in a tussle with a coked up hairdresser.


Curled up and dyed right there on the spot.

There's no better place for Havana meltdown!

Okay, in the interest of trying to provide some topical feng shui,


I'd like to talk about something that actually revolves around Discordia.


Think about your daily routine, or your daily non-routine, and talk about where there is Discordia.


Where do you do things a little differently because you have Her whispering in your ear?


Do you have any daily rituals, habits, or activities that are steeped in your Discordianness?

As the Summer Olympics in London draws near, Donald is taken back to his youth.  From a very young age, after the first time he watched the Olympics on television, he knew he himself wanted to one day become an Olympian.  To stand shoulder to shoulder with athletes from other countries.  To revel in the majesty of The Games.  But, what sport should he choose?  Maybe he could be a marathon runner, a long jumper, or perhaps, he could follow in his Great Uncle Jim's footsteps and take up the bow and arrow. 

So, Donald talked his parents into buying him a bow and arrow set so he could begin practicing and training so that one day he could be an Olympian.  Sure, they don't get as much TV time as the swimmers, and the track and field athletes, or the gymnasts, but that's no big deal really.  However, Donald quickly became frustrated with his chosen sport.  Working the bow was difficult, he would often miss the target completely, and then there was The Incident.

One morning, as he was practicing, his dog Lucky was playing in the back yard where the target was set up.  Now, Lucky would often be in the back playing as Donald practiced.  However, this one fateful morning tragedy struck.  As Donald was pulling back getting ready to release a shot, a horsefly happened by and buzzed in Donald's ear.  This caused him to lose his balance, fall, and accidentally release the arrow. 

Donald quickly stood up to see that the arrow had struck and killed Lucky.

It was on that sad, fateful day that Donald decided that archery just wasn't for him. 
There were too many drawbacks.

Well, have you?

If I were you I'd get on it stat. 

The thing is, you have to make sure those fuckers are aligned properly, otherwise, the whole thing will rattle and shake, and then you'll end up in the fucking ditch.

You have to make sure all of the pegs and widgets and doohickeys are in the proper sockets.  You can't have the thing veering off into the field. 

Luckily for you, we have the patent-pending Reality Grid Rev-Up Special, now through Labor Day!

Bring your Reality Grid to us and we will use our special comptroller to check and make sure it is up to the proper specs.  If it is out of alignment, don't worry, we have a special 10-step process that flushes out all of the kinks and burps and gets it humming just like all of the other Vehicles on the road.

So what are you waiting for?  Come see us today!  Ask us about our free radiator flush and ear flossing.

Fnord

Solace in silliness. 
This sanctuary true...


You environs is fraught with decay and degredation.


Before you take up the shovel and hatchet and monkeywrench and arc welder...


Be sure you take Her with you.


She will not shield you, She will not protect you...


But...She WILL give you. that stupid grin on your face and that laughter in your throat...


As you are pinning THEM to the wall.

Oh sayeth it is Teh Friday!

Letteth down thou hair and loosen thy pants...

...for it is time to LIVE and to get down on ALL FOURS (or whatever you have going) and to get down and dirty in The Life.

Dwell in it.

Revel in it.

And fuck anyone who tells you to act 'normal'.

So sayeth She who butters BOTH sides of our bread.

Whether Discordia is at the forefront or no, she still remains a vital force for Good.

Yes, Good.

Because She keeps us, if we listen to her, from straying into the mechanized path that leads us to the Evils of Ennui.  To the shackles of Stasis.  To the mines of the Mundane.

Evil draws us to these places, with its traps of shiny succulent plastics and digital delicacies.  He beckons us to the pits, shrouding them in tapestries, drenching them in the aromas of Importance.  Distracting us with those little brief glints of light.  As a disco-ball anglerfish, waiting, jaws agape....

Hold on to your Discordia.  Hold her with all of your grip!  (Mind where you are putting your hands, grip not grope!) 

Keep your head in the clouds and your feet in every direction. 

Don't let the roots snare you and drag you down!

So, I'm watching Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freemen on the Science Channel.

This particular episode is about whether or not there is an edge to the universe and what it might look like and how we might one day find it.

I really enjoy the pattern of some of these shows, particularly those dealing with astrophysics, theoretical physics, and the like.

So they'll show some smarter than fuck scientist prattling on about some particular theory, and then the smarter than fuck scientist pulls out a toy to explain it to the dummies.

So far I've seen scientists play with drums, bubbles, and croquet sets in attempts to get non-astrophysicists to understand the junk they are attempting to explain.  Stuff, of course, which may end up being a bunch of horseshit anyway.

Anyway, this amused me and I thought I'd share.  Feel free to add any similar observations you might have on the topic. 

Or go play some badminton, know however, every time you swing a racket, you are simulating the expansion-wobble-rotation of the gamma-y quadrants. 

My boss is a forward thinker.


That is....he forwards stuff to other people to think about.  He, of course, is not unique in this attribute.  It is a fairly pervasive quality in humankind.  It is always easiest to solve a problem by getting someone else to solve the problem.  To punt.  To hand off.


Is your boss a Fwd: Thinker?

Culture clash: Fan spills yogurt on Obama

Q:  Why did the chicken cross the road?

A:  A chicken may or may not cross the road if it perceives an impending doom. 


So many questions asked that go unanswered. 

But they are not greeted with unknowing silence or gentle gasps of confusion.

The questions are countered with trails of words, superficially woven together to compose an utterance.

But with no attachment to a resolution of reason.

Because we must say something...

....even when it is nothing. 

If you can master nonsense as well as you have already learned to master sense, then each will expose the other for what it is: absurdity. From that moment of illumination, a man begins to be free regardless of his surroundings.  He becomes free to play order games and change them at will. He becomes free to play disorder games just for the hell of it.  He becomes free to play neither or both.  And as the master of his own games, he plays without fear, and therefore without frustration, and therefore with good will in his soul and love in his being.


And when men become free then mankind will be free.
May you be free of The Curse of Greyface.
May the Goddess put twinkles in your eyes.
May you have the knowledge of a sage,
      and the wisdom of a child. Hail Eris.

From early times Man has burdened itself with bullshit.  It has taken its existence far too seriously.  Even as it has gained the knowledge proving that mankind occupies but an insignificant blink of time, he has not come to the obvious conclusion.  Let's live the hell out of this brief time that we have.

Instead, man instantaneously became obsessed with seeking and tapping into an obsolete and improbable idea of immortality.  Obsessed with taking whatever steps necessary to extend its lifespan and authority over mortality.  This invariably has lead to strife and conflict as man scrambles to control every nook and cranny that contains life-fueling resources. 

And so the Curse of Greyface has endured.  It is now seemingly inextricably entrenched.  It seems particularly hopeless that it can go in any other direction. 

Yet Salvation is always right there before us.  Man simply needs to reach out and grab it.  To cast off the self-imposed shackles that has held Man back in the name of Progress.  Progress that has been measured by ALL of the wrong benchmarks.  Quantity over Quality.

Eris, Discordia, and the Discordian Society are mankind's QA department.  The problem is no one will pay attention to us, even though we bear a painfully simple message and warning:

"Snap the fuck out of it!  Don't you see what you are doing?"

You are trying to create a better world for your children and grandchildren but you are just making it worse.  You are dooming them to the same failed rat race you've been running.  Not only that, you've made the race longer and more grueling.  You were able to bail out at 55 or 65.  Your grandkids won't get to leave until they are in the ground in a box.  What fucking kind of existence is that? 

Let them have Salvation.  Let them hold onto that Joyful Anarchy of youth as long as they can.  You can't keep them from growing old but you can keep them from "growing up".  Because in our society "growing up" means becoming a Super Serious Adult.  It means leaving games behind.  It means forever servitude to The System.  It means shirking any real kind of Individuality for institutionalized imagination.  Straying outside of the paradigm is not an option.  Not if they want to be "respected" and "regarded". 

Let them have Salvation. 

Let them remain Free.

Let them know that it is okay to be Weird.

Let them know that it is okay to be Strange.

Let them know that it is okay to walk around with that silly grin on their face.

Let them know that they can march to any goddamned beat they want. 

Fuck the rest of the world if it can't and won't dance. 

Tell the kids that they are the Dance Commanders! 

They are the Dr. Dementos!

They are the Rock and Rollers!

They can resist The Curse of Greyface!

Nonsense is their Salvation! 

And it is, as it always has been, fucking Free!

Preach it!  Spread it!  Live it!

And fuck anyone who gets in the way!

That's the Word,

Reverend What's-His-Name?

The hole ecosystem is about to collapse. 

I'm going to take advantage of this situation and push the god damned button.

Stand back!

http://www.wgme.com/news/top-stories/stories/wgme_vid_11439.shtml?wap=0

I can believe it.  Between the Arts District, the Old Port, and Commercial Street, it really is a magnet for hipsters. 

And Coffee by Design is more or less the Mecca where they all converge. 

Jim Marshall has left the building at 88.

I wonder if he'll be buried under a Marshall stack.  Would be a fitting tribute. 

Make remarks. 

http://shine.yahoo.com/parenting/conservative-teen-aims-help-kids-counter-liberalism-195600687.html

For parents worrying that their teens are too influenced by liberal ideas like birth control, racism, and "Glee," there's a new glossy magazine in town offering to set them straight. Introducing: "The Conservative Teen."

"Do you have a teenage child or grandchild? Are you concerned about their future and the kind of America they will inherit?" asks publisher William R. Smith on the magazine's website. "The liberal agenda has long dominated our educational institutions, news media, and entertainment industries and so it's imperative we counter by teaching our teen children conservative values."

Not much is known about the publisher, William R. Smith. It's the same name as the man who narrowly won Ohio's 2nd district in the democratic primary earlier this month, backed by the "Victory Ohio Super PAC," which conducted robocalls on his behalf and is not registered with the Federal Elections Committee, but it seems odd that a 61-year-old long-distance trucker in Ohio who ran as a Democrat would suddenly decide to launch a magazine promoting conservative Christian values and Tea Party politics.

Whoever he is, he doesn't seem willing to talk about his new publication. Our calls to publisher's office listed in "The Conservative Teen" went unanswered Tuesday morning; by that afternoon, a recording said that the phone number had been disconnected and its Facebook page (with 288 likes and a series of September 2011 posts linking to Sean Hannity) had been taken down (but is still viewable in Google's cache).....

He tried to get a job at the local butcher, but he didn't make the cut.

He was late to the orchestra because his wife took too long Chopin.

He sued the funeral home that did up his Ma because they did a shitty dye job. 

He missed the link between lung cancer and chain smoking. 

Now he is more or less stationery, though he is still quite a card. 

Mangrove is a regular renaissance man boasting many talents, accolades, and polystyrene noses. 

Mangrove was once the feature of a five-week documentary series on the mating rituals and migration patterns of the Wild Borneo Scrid, narrated by David Attenborough.  It almost didn't happen as Attenborough went all diva and demanded a bigger trailer.  However, Mangrove deftly massaged the situation and all was well.

Mangrove fended off an attempt by Lulzsec to infiltrate the SSOOKN interweb compound.  He did so by barraging them with endless torrents of Nelson, Firehouse, and Trixter albums. 

Mangrove conducted a sell-out city-to-city tour with Shock G. of Digital Underground.  The name of the tour was "Hear No Evil, Nose No Evil" 

Mangrove has given hope to all men with gigantic schnozes everywhere. 

Mangrove was briefly being considered by President George W. Bush to become the U.S. Ambassador to Lichtenstein.  Unfortunately, GWB's spell-check was down so Mangrove ended up being sent to Chad. 

Mangrove, one day at a day-long SSOOKN strategic planning retreat, went into a 20 minute sneezing fit and accidentally a whole pineapple. 

One day Mangrove walked into a bar.  Luckily he was carrying his spare duck. 

Mangrove's closets are all Rated R because they contain graphic sax and violins. 

WHY DIDN'T YOU BELIEVE ME?!?!?!?!




This quality thread brought to you by Ennui and Poor Judgement(tm)

I put oil in my hot-dog water!

Your user name compels you to participate in the proceedings.  It would be a shameful waste otherwise. 

Bestow upon us some knowledge good sir!

Whassup?

Lovely nice weekend full of warm sunshine and fuzzy shiny bunnies.

The feel of spring and/or summer is in the air.

All Good Americans everywhere are firing up the ol Char-Broil and cooking some corn-fed meat animal. 

Are you being a Good American?

Are you bowing before the altar of Spendacus? 

Are you loading up on chips and salsa for the games? 

Did you suds up the car?

Did you smile at the old couple, finally out of their house moving around after the winter?

Long live happy-warm fun times!!!!

Remember to tip your paper boy.  There's probably a little extra huff in his puff with all of this sunshiney goodness!

I parked my car up along the curb right behind the Subaru Forester.  I ascended the old, mossy concrete steps and stopped before the metal screen door.  I was a few minutes early, as usual.  I pushed the button for the door bell.  I heard foot steps approach, the red wooden door swung open.....

It was one of the darnedest things the corrections officer had ever seen.  And he had seen plenty. 

One must wonder what exactly was going through their head.  And where they did they get the super glue? 

Nevertheless, there were the two inmates, joined together, stuck fast.

It was a very con-fusing sight. 

Late afternoon whisperings from somewhere unknown.
Reassessing the progress made thus far.
Many steps forward followed by left-right-back-diagonals.
Stupor-intoxicant

Verily, as we peer over the edge of the plateau
There below
The gathering of men.
Some wild, some mild, some just to stay away from the other two
Because in the search of the unique
We find outselves in company of the familiar
And just right....
Anything else, in the normal existance of man, would be unherd of. 

[0 - 10]

http://www.extremelysmart.com/humor/puntest.php

To take the SPT, merely make an X beside each punch line that you either remember the story that goes with it, or that you can easily build a story to fit. Remember, a score of 100 percent is not necessarily desirable!

   
• One good tern deserves an udder.
• A fiery 'stead with the spite of Leed, A clout of dust, And a hearty "Buy old Silver"!
• A gritty pearl is Michael, LLD.
• A sink is as good as a tod to a blind Norse.
• A weigh a day keeps the doctor an Apple.
• Abscesses make the fart go "HONDA"!
• Ah, sweet Mr. Rhee of Life, at last I've found you!
• All of Hing's courses and all of Ming's ken couldn't get gum tea to feather a hen.
• Am I Mike Carruthers' beeper?
• And she thus became the first chicken to catch a Tory.
• Another case where the spirit was willing but the flush was weak.
• Artie chokes three for a dollar at local market.
• Bargain dogs don't bite.
• Because Herman the German was used to hard ships.
• Better Nate than lever.
• Booty is in the "Aye" of the bee holder.
• But actually mah hammered alley is really cashew's clay.
• But of course, the Czech is always in the male.
• Came the reply, "That was no laser — that was my knife!"
• Carrying /young/ /gulls/ across a /staid lion/ /staked lines/ for immortal porpoises.]
• Contributing to the delinquency of a miner!
• Dee, who flaps last, flaps left.
• Doctor, the thong is ended, but the malady lingers on!
• Everyone knows . . . Tarzan Stripes Forever.
• The flight attendant looks at the vulture and says, "I'm sorry, only one carrion per passenger."
• For making an obscene clone fall.
• Follow the yellow prick toad.
• General Minh prefer bronze.
• Give my big hearts to Maude, Duane. / Dismember me for Harold's choir. / Tell all the Foys on Sortibackenstrete / That I will soon be there. (Hint: think of Isaac Asimov's "Death of a Foy.")
• He who has a Tate's is lost.
• He's a typical gnu, and tiler, too.
• He's not the rigger Mort is.
• Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars!
• I can't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.
• I don't know, but he's a dead ringer for his brother.
• I don't know, but his face sure rings a bell.
• I don't know. Am I my blubber's kipper?
• I left my harp in Sam Clam's Disco. (Variant: I left my harp in Sam Frank's Disco.)
• I wouldn't send a knight out on a dog like this.
• If there's one thing I can't stand, it's chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.
• Ike's aunt gets nose hat is fact, son.
• I'm a prawn again, Tristan! I saw Cod!
• I'm booking over that four-clove leaver, though I've overcooked before!
• It was the beast of Thames, it was the wurst of Thames.
• It was the bottom of the ninth, the basses were loaded, and the score was tied.
• It was the first known instance of using core storage to save registers.
• It's a feat to keep your seat on the vicious hippy mutt.
• It's a knick-knack, Patty Wack. Give the frog a loan.
• It's a long way to tip a Raree.
• It's a rambling rack from George the Turk with an elephant engineer!
• It's the Moron Tab or an Apple Choir.
• Lou Slips, Sinks Ships.
• Lucy in the dye with Simons.
• Making him the first to wire a head for a reservation.
• Moral: A niche in time saves Stein.
• MORAL: A stolen roan gathers no moose.
• Moral: A washed pot never oils.
• Moral: Don't hatchet your counts before they chicken.
• Moral: If the foo shits, wear it.
• MORAL: Let a swine be your gorilla in a grainy, grainy bay. And if your Swede decries, just tell her that a swine will always pay. . . .
• Moral: Let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers.
• Moral: People who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
• MORAL: You can't have your kayak and heat it too.
• No, I'm a frayed knot.
• Opporknockity tunes but once. [Alternate: O'Pernokkety tunes but once.]
• Pardon me Roy, is that the cat who chewed your new shoes?
• Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!
• Rudolph, the Red, knows rain, dear.
• See! Even adders can multiply on a log table.
• Seventy-six strong clones fed the pig Baraid with a hundred and ten Chlorets close at hand.
• She is just suffering from pre-minstrel tension.
• Silly Rabbi, kicks are for Trids!
• SOW ROPE, NATEY-O!
• Stilling two birds with one's cone.
• Stop right where you are, boyfoot bear with teaks of Chan!
• Super California Mystic Expert Halitosis.
• That has nothing to do with it, he is just a poor conductor.
• That was the day the fit hit the Shan.
• That's the beer that made Mel Famey walk us.
• The first time a reign was called on account of the game.
• The furry with the syringe on top.
• The hills are alive with the hounds of Munich.
• The Koala tea of Mercy is not strained.
• The moral of the story: Don't put all your Basques into one exit.
• The next day, the headline in the paper read "Peter Viper wrecks a truck of pickled Steppers."
• The squire on the hippopotamus is equal to the sons of the other two squires. (Variation: squaw instead of squire.)
• The star mangled spanner.
• The trill of Vicar Rhee in the agony of the feet.
• The White Man's Peak with Forked Tong.
• There's Manny, asleep between the Cub and the Lip.
• There's no plate like chrome for the hollandaise.
• These are the "times" that dry men's soles. [Alternate: These are the soles that time men's tries.]
• They had left no tern unstoned.
• They're twins. If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal.
• Time's fun when you're having flies.
• Transporting mynahs over sedate lions for immortal porpoises. [Variations:
• Two obese Patties, special Ross, Lester Cheese picking bunions on a Sesame Street bus!
• Wait 'til the nun signs, Shelly.
• Warning: The searchin' general has determined that smoking ziggurats is hazardous to your stealth.
• We can't have archaic and edict, too.
• We have come to seize your berries, not to appraise them. [Variant: not to praise them.]
• Well, there's something about an aqua Volvo, man. . . .
• When you're out of slits, you're out of pier!
• Where were you when the fit hit the Shan?
• Which just goes to show that, a Benny shaved is a Benny urned.
• With fronds like these, who needs anemones?
• Yeast is yeast and nest is next, and never the Maine shall tweet.
• You can take a hearse to water, but you can't make it sink.
• You can take a whore to culture, but you can't make her think. (Dorothy Parker)
• You can't have your kayak and heat it too.
• You fools! We have ways to make you tock!
• Your father's pre-ministerial syndrome caused his premature "Hey Jack, you're late, son."
• You're thore!!! I can't even thit!!

Scoring:  0 - 10 — No danger (healthy)
11 - 25 — Minor SPS (recommend therapy)
26 - 40 — Moderate SPS (recommend gag)
41 - 52 — Punster — Major SPS (recommend tongue removal)
more than 53 — Paronomisiac — Extreme SPS (recommend lobotomy).

I think I need to see a doctor, I'm off the chart.   

I voted for soon to be ex-Senator Olympia Snowe a few times.  For a Republican, she's fairly tolerable.  Make no mistake, she's had her fair share of fail moments.  Like how she makes the obvious hallow, painful-to-watch, lurch to the right when she's up for reelection.  Marrying John McKernan was also a fairly toolish moment for her.  Also, using  Donald Trump's hair stylist. 

All those mistakes aside, when she announced her decision to retire from the U.S. Senate she gave some speech about the hopeless partisan gridlock in the Senate.  And she's right.  Some times she'd try to work around that.  Some times, well many times really, she didn't work hard enough.  But the actual philosophy for her supposed reason to leave is on point. 

The problem, though, isn't with the Senators.  Because, after all, we put them there.  The American People seem to have this schizophrenic amnesia that crops up every couple of years, and we forget that pretty much to a (wo)man, every person who rises to win nomination and run for Senate, has a certain quotient of toolbag in their DNA.  That's the way the system is currently set up.  If you were a true-blue, warmhearted, PeaceCorps, goody-goody, you'd get eaten alive by the political juggernaut machinery.  You aren't allowed to run.  You will be removed from the contest. 

But this whole failure amongst the electorate is also rooted in the American People's inexhaustible penchant for focusing on bullshit.  We complain about how the media focuses on bullshit stories in election years, and builds up these terribly unimportant narratives.  But The People eat it, nay, they DEMAND it. 

Because thinking about solutions to actual problems is hard.  Fuck, just thinking about what the problems actually ARE is hard.  It entails contemplating that which might not be resting right at the bridge of your nose.  It means recognizing that the holes in the pockets of others DOES come back around and smack you in the ass.  It means recognizing that in and between the trees of this Fake Plastic Forest we all live in, we are connected.  The vary nature of our economy, our health care System, our "education" system, our civic systems....all of this makes it near impossible to live in actual, walled-up silos. 

Even if you don't have any compassion for that poor schlub addicted to pain meds, thinking with your wallet one should easily deduce that him not having health care coverage means YOU are paying for it when he ends up in the ER after an overdose.  I mean, you don't need to be Alan fucking Greenspan to figure that shit out.  You don't have to give a fuck about that guy.  But Jeezus, if you care as much about protecting your "wealth" as you claim, then why the fuck wouldn't you want to fix that shit?  Fix that shit, spit on the guy afterwards if you want, but don't fucking pretend it isn't a problem that has a simple solution. 

But of course, no, it isn't going to happen anytime soon that there will be this great Awakening, that draws people to the realization of our actual problems.  And so we keep putting these Rhetorical Wizards into Congress.  Those that can utter smoke and mirrors to get elected.  Employing sleight of breath to redirect minds. 

That's why shit doesn't get done.  That's why any progress is like unto a hobbled slug mired in Cartesian duality. 

And what can WE do?  I don't know man, it is a tall task to expect we can amass any kind of momentum to even nudge this shit.  But we can't fold up shop either.  We can continue to work together and apart in our own meat circles.  It will likely never be enough to make real, measurable and documented change.  But perhaps screeching at stooges here and there....perhaps........

or to think twice about applying for certain jobs or to certain colleges:

http://redtape.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/03/06/10585353-state-agencies-colleges-demand-applicants-facebook-passwords

If you think privacy settings on your Facebook and Twitter accounts guarantee future employers or schools can't see your private posts, guess again.
Employers and colleges find the treasure-trove of personal information hiding behind password-protected accounts and privacy walls just too tempting, and increasingly, they are demanding full access from applicants and students.

But of course, you spags all LOVE America, right, so there's no need to get all hot and bothered about this.  It's all for the best!

That's MY American Dream!

Do you have any organic treatments for Bach pain? 

The passing of one Andrew Breitbart appears to be very real. 

http://usnews.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/03/01/10548738-conservative-firebrand-andrew-breitbart-has-died-at-age-43

Seems that he just pretty much dropped dead.  Seems like it might be a bum ticker. 

Or maybe someone just edited the tape to make it look that way and it was really hookers and blow. 

Goodnight Davy Jones.

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I think I just GASM'd in my pants!

Sam Brockton was a veteran plumber.  He had been snaking drains, unclogging bunged up toilets, and running pipes for 20 years now.  Everyone knew that he was the go-to guy.  And, he charged a fair rate.  Lord knows that is a hard thing to come by these days in any kind of home-repair service.  Safe to say, the guy had become a very well known and appreciated fixture in the community.

He remembered the big scourge that cropped up a few years ago.  A rash of burglaries hit the town, impacting dozens of homes in multiple neighborhoods.  The thieves were breaking into homes while people were out of town and snagging all of the copper piping and wiring.  Families would come home to disasters and discover they were basically left without running water.  Good ole Sam, though, would come through.  In many instances, he would do the installations pro bono.  Families just had to pay for materials.  That really went a long way to ease tensions in the community.

One day, Sam was in a home doing an upgrade on a bath/shower combo.  Everything was going swimmingly as one would expect given his vast experience and knowledge.  It was a pretty routine installation.  However, tragedy soon struck unexpectedly.  As he was down on the floor tightening a fixture, something happened...perhaps he had accidentally kicked the counter, maybe it was the family's pet Corgi, whatever happened, his opened toolbox came crashing down on top of him.  Now, if you know anything about plumbing you know that they tend to carry around hefty toolboxes with some heavy duty equipment.  Thankfully, one of the homeowners was within earshot and came to his aid.  He was quickly whisked off to the emergency room where he received care.  Fortunately, he did pull through and after a month of healing, he was able to get right back to work, which made the townspeople very happy.

Though, to this day, he will still tell you that it was a very gut-wrenching experience. 

Honestly, please tell me!  When we sit down and talk for 30 minutes, and I carefully, painfully, lay out for you specifically and EXACTLY what I need from you, and why.  I tell you EXACTLY what questions to ask and EXACTLY what information I need.

I told you that I need to know x, y, and z.  Yes, AND z.  Not x, y, or z.  I need to know all of them.

Not only do you not ask about z!  You don't really ask about y.  We talked about this, over and over.  I told you in about 5 different ways what I needed.  I didn't say I wanted half-assed information.  I didn't say I would accept ballpark.  I asked for precision. 

I might as well have asked you to ask them about their feelings on jackals, badgers, and watermelon chewing gum, because that information would have been just as useful as this bullshit I'm going to get from your poor-assed guidance. 

Jebus, I could've spent that 30 minutes I wasted in that goddamned meeting doing work.  I've got shit that needs to get done, I took 30 minutes out of my day because YOU scheduled this stupid meeting.  Did you come prepared?  Were you ready to walk some walk instead of just chitting some chatter?

Nope.

Complete waste of time.

Next time you ask me to meet with you, please be ready to be a full participant.  Someone who is going to do the job. 

Otherwise, don't bother.  Really.  Competence is a virtue. 

Go fucking find some!

A key to keeping sane in this existence is building and maintaining sanctuary.  Whether it be physical or mental, providing a shelter from the tumult is important for stability and survival.  Not a sanctuary completely shut off from the outside world.  Not a place where you wash your hands of the negativity that is in a seemingly endless state of transpiration.  Indeed, it should be a room with a view.

For we will need to leave this sanctuary to join others as they throw down.  As they take up arms to push back against that order which would pen us all into windowless cells.  So we need to be aware of what is going on. 

But we need to take care of the self to protect the self and preserve the self.

Selflessness begets selflessness.

(which doesn't preclude those moments that call for an immediate action of risk to preserve the precious life of a loved one.)

And then we can do nothing to help others.