Archive for August, 2012


Elephants Tussle in the Land of Flamingoes

God am I sickened at the the realization that I won’t be able to make it to Florida for the Republican Convention. I had high hopes of starting a fundraising rally to send me there to give a firsthand report on the madness that will ensue but as luck would have it, people seem to be too broke to drum up a few thousand dollars for me. So it goes, I still have the internet. That’s what I love about this day and age. Years ago we would have relied on nightly reports from Brian Williams or Dan Rather or (God forbid) Britt Hume, to bring us the day’s events from the convention floor. Thanks to the advent of cell phone cameras, blogging and Twitter feeds, we now have multiple resources to create total chaos inside this honored ceremony. News travels fast on the convention floor and reactionary reports from every other person’s Ipad make political sleight of hand harder to pull off. Delegate Melinda Fredricks set off a bomb Monday by reading a letter in protest of recent underhanded maneuvers by the GOP. Seems they want to throw in a few rule changes that would allow the GOP Presidential candidate to veto and replace state delegates and before you knew it, this information was all over the web causing a flurry of response from Texas delagates.

You don’t fuck with Texas. Those cowboys might break out into a true fist fight on the convention floor unless this matter gets resolved. Now if that’ not enough entertainment, throw some more fuel on the fire courtesy of the political freestyling antics of Ron and Rand Paul. Kentucky Senator Rand Paul plans to use his prime time speaking spot to urge tighter scrutiny on the Pentagon’s budget and throw into question the need for all this defense spending. This probably won’t go over well with the Romney supporters, as Mitt ‘the Fish’ Romney and Paul ‘Hynotoad’ Ryan have stressed a favored defense spending initiative if elected. I hope that Kentucky Senator lays it on and doesn’t puss out with some quick last minute stab of a statement on stage. Those kind of last minute quips tend to get overlooked, especially when you have to get up before that huge mic and swear your allegiance to some guy that took the job your dad was shooting for. Here’s where the old dog, Ron Paul, steps onto the scene with a classic fucking move. He plans to give up his opportunity to address the convention because the stakes are too high for him. He was given the chance, under the stipulation that he fully endorse Mitt Romney for president, and he replied “I don’t fully endorse him for president.” Out fucking standing Ron, way to knock one outta the park. Whether you agree with the man’s politics or not, you have to give him credit for having the balls to stick to his principles enough to pass up an opportunity like that. So often we see sellout politicians get up on that stage after a lengthy loss in a campaign, only to support their former opponent like some whipped bitch-not Ron Paul. Son of a bitch stuck to his guns.

As the convention moves along I hope the hysteria and comical foray of opposing views continues. I admit selfish reasons behind begging for more anarchy because I truly believe that this year, like the last election, we are all voting to elect President Ineffective, or President Nose Pinch. Either way, we’re fucked, so at least let me laugh while you fuck me.


Paul Ryan; A Proposed Hypnotoad

For those of you unfamiliar with the animated character ‘Hypnotoad‘, I suggest you go watch an episode of Futurama to get the full brunt of my implied comparison. There is something about Vice Presidential hopeful Paul Ryan that leaves me inquisitive, something about that dead glint in his eyes that reminds me of the mesmerizing amphibian from cartoons-or perhaps something akin to those pod doppelgangers from Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I could see him grilled on some early Sunday morning talk show and when confronted with hard questions, rolls his eyes up in his head and bellows a screech from his snarling maw, pointing at the camera with the fury of Hell itself.

My curiosity led me to delve into the web for stories on this Representative from Wisconsin and that led me down an unending hole of rants, accusations, rumors and more. I was wading through endless blogs and news sites, dizzy from the research (and pot) when all of a sudden I stopped dead at the keyboard and thought ‘what the fuck do I care’? It’s a VP position for Christ sake, who pays any attention to the lackey in the White House? People pay more attention to the Secretary of State or Defense; the Vice President is just some bench warming job that has little, if any, impact on policy. Then I remembered a certain sinister character named Dick Cheney. How could I have forgotten that nefarious Dark Lord of the Sith, the man who wouldn’t let mere heart attacks stop him? Perhaps the 2nd in command is becoming a hidden Queen inside our political system. Many people to this day feel that the real brains running the George W. Bush Administration was Dick Cheney and Karl Rove. I felt those two men were a terrifying force. George W. was a boob. He couldn’t run a bath let alone run the country.

So maybe the recipe of politics now days will be, throw a Ken doll puppet in front of the public…someone good looking and clean cut (remind you of any Mormon you might know?) but keep the real nasty scheming brains behind operations cloaked. Why? Because if you stick the real beast out in front of the camera it may expose itself for what it really is and then any plans for persuasive takeover go right out the door. Almost every President I can remember voting for (or against) took crap daily from the public and ended up spending a good deal of face time addressing issues, actually trying to explain their actions to the public. Not George. They would ask him the tough questions and he’d just shrug it off and imply ‘that’s the way it is-tough fucking darts motherfuckers, I’m off to go do something.’

I plan to keep a wary eye on this situation as it develops because if we end up with another demonic figure, like Cheney, hidden behind the White House walls, I’ll need to start looking for a little place in Juarez to reside.


Farethee Well, Old Joe Biden

Legend has it that the Emperor Nero played the fiddle while Rome burned; I have chosen to smoke some weed and sip on a glass full of Dewars while the Democrats face self implosion. This is when politics gets good, when the ships starts going down and no one knows which way to run to get to the lifeboats. Old Joe Biden had done it again by going out in public and making some remark that ended up being the gaffe of the week. In all honesty I didn’t find the “back in chains” remark was that big a deal but in the world of grandstand campaigning this was enough. The Mars landing stories had dried up on the news networks and they needed some fresh swill to throw to the crowd-enter Joe and his ‘can’t keep my fucking mouth shut’ mentality. Excellence.

The biggest kink in the Obama campaign chain as of recent falls on the shoulders of the Great Hope and Change himself. Barack no longer has that fire in his belly, the passion that drove him to the Oval Office is gone. He’s like Rocky in Rocky III, he lost the eye of the tiger. That means that Mitt ‘Clubber Lang’ Romney will have that much easier time going in and busting him up. On top of that you put a bumbling Vice President in the mix paired up against your opponent’s newest weapon, Paul Ryan, and this will have a dramatic effect on the poll numbers. We have certainly had our share of Vice Presidents in the past that could be classified in the nincompoop department (Dan Quayle comes to mind immediately) and most people are forgiving to overlook some stupidity from the second in line to the U.S. throne, but NOT during an election year. One of the big pushover points against John McCain during his unsuccessful run for the White House sprang up from his choice of a Vice Presidential running mate who could mouth sass anyone but had the intelligence of a dirty ashtray.

So Joe does it again while small rabbit punches here and there work against Barack Obama. Blog rumors whisper hints that Hillary Clinton may be asked to step in and take over as VP, Arizona Governor Jan Brewer defies the President’s immigration stance, video on the truth behind the President’s history/birth certificate debate continue to draw attention. If the President wants to make it another term he had better come up with some goods real quick, because he has ridden the “I killed Bin Laden’ horse long enough and as slow as progress is going in this country, Americans are impatient bastards and will not sit through another term of mediocre achievements. They will cut off their nose in spite of their face if they don’t get enough action from their leaders-and be that right or wrong, they will oust the President.

Time for more scotch and pot while I watch the empire burn.


Paul Ryan; The Fish Picks a Wallflower

I went into a local convenience store owned by this Lebanese man and needed to buy one of my daughters a soda but all I had was a debit card. When we got up to the counter the man said there had to be a $5 minimum on a card, at which point I walked away from the counter and soda. “Wait a minute” he called out. He gave me the soda and said I could pay him back the next time I was in the store-gave me a cola on fucking credit.

The announcement came out that Mitt-the Filet ‘O Fish’ Romney has tagged Wisconsin Representative Paul Ryan as his Vice Presidential running candidate. The Borowitz Report nailed it by stating “An exhaustive manhunt that took months and spanned the country came to a dramatic end today as a less interesting person than Mitt Romney turned up in Wisconsin”. Now the stage is locked and loaded for the finals in this run for the White House. The Mormon Monster is ready to climb in the ring for Round Four (by my card) and get back at it with The Great Hope and Change, the Fiery Beast with purported Dual Citizenship. This campaign challenge that has less impact that a dog fart is off and running at a dying snail’s pace.

The announcement of this less than exciting choice is no more than I would have expected, much less than I had hoped for from a Republican nod on this seat. As for trying to come up with a suitable-or tolerable-choice for Democrats to eye and possibly abandon their party’s ship, the GOP shouldn’t even think twice. The numbers you might get on that return will be so miniscule, no matter who the choice, that it’s not worth abandoning your own party. Ryan will do fine as a choice, until something comes out of the woodwork like him being caught on tape participating in an air tight session on a Taiwan hooker. He’s not as nefarious as Dick Cheny was, and not as stupid as Dan Quayle; let the Republicans have their party representative. People aren’t that concerned about Vice Presidents because they’re like the second string quarterback; you know the second stringer is there and you hope you never have to rely on him, but don’t let that fear stop you from enjoying the game. Few VPs have had much influence on national decisions, I actually feel that the First Lady ends up accomplishing more than a Vice President. If I am wrong then I welcome Joe Biden coming to my place and correcting me so I can nod my head at him, then tell him to suck my dick, just because he’s a Vice President.

Let’s all watch Ryan and try not to let the press get us all worked up in a fevered pitch over this less-than-news event. In the meantime, I am walking down to the convenience store to pay this guy off for the soda.


The Ten Pound Hammer pt. 2

Eduardos car sat next to a street light in City park, shaded with the overhang of a tree, while this fine mist continued. The senses come alive when one is on cocaine and the slightest breath along your neck or a drop of cold water on the scalp an send shivers of delight down your spine and shudder breathes on your lips. Me and my latino homey got out, firing one more time before leaving the car to go walk over to where the bikers were cycling in a circle to some undistinguished dub thump from huge outdoor speakers. We began working our way through the park through this huge pocket of ink dark shade that was provided by the trees and I heard Ed say “hold up, I gotta take a piss”. Sounded like a good idea to me so I did the same.
“Man” I heard him say to me while we watered the park. “Do you feel that rain on your dick? That feels so wicked bro”, then he laughed this squeeking kind of laugh. I agreed that I had felt rain on my junk and yes, it did feel wicked. Wicked good.
“Oh man this feels to good” I said, or something like that, then started stripping off my clothes.
“what the fuck you doing, Dave?”
“-Taking off my clothes. It feels fantastic, you should do it.” The exhibitionist in me let loose, which really doesn’t take much to release that bug-and enhanced with drugs? I was all over that 60’s hippie feeling, free and groovin’, in the dark area of the park where neither of us stoned nudists could bother anyone or really be seen; the most that one could possibly make out would be a silhouette of me or Ed. The raving music echoed into the pit of darkness where we were and me and Ed started dancing it up there while mist poured rai8ned down on us, alive and dancing with the thrust of the ten pound hammer. We needed to make sure we kept track of where our clothes-and the coke-were but I tell you there was no bigger feeling of freedom than this and in spite of what many believe, it was not all brought about by the drugs. The evening, the dancing, all the people in the park just having a great fucking time and leaving the woes of work or unemployment or horrible presidential election choices, Batman movie murders-everything was sitting somewhere on some shelf. The problems were not in the dark green comfort of City park, there was only contentment.

So what did I take from that little jaunt in the park with Ed? What moral can be told of this tale? I guess if I would say anything it would not be ‘go out and get all fucked up on coke’…..that worked for me, that night, that moment, but the drug was more a catlyst, a guide to the real cherry. The thing I achieved was the knowledge of being okay with not saving the world. So many people believe if you vote this way the world will be saved. Vote for this man, vote for that one…what was that line from the Temptations song Ball of Confusion?…”vote for me and I’ll set you free!.” We should all be good citizens, try to do the right thing, support good causes and hand a bum a dollar now and then, but if our favorite elected official doesn’t make it into office this time, the world will not end….and if the world does end I would rather not spend those last days shaking my fist at the sky crying ‘why?’. I would rather go out knowing that for some of the time on this big blue marble, I was able to smile as I danced naked in the park.



Eduardo and the Ten Pound Hammer pt. 1

All the political hysteria, all the commentary and drama that oozes out of the media machines we all huddle around to get our daily dose of what is purported to be the ‘news’-I had to jump off that train Wednesday evening. After the fatal shootings down the street from me that took the lives of innocent individuals wanting to pay good money to see a movie, I needed some solace. There is little comfort to escape in the presidential campaign news these days, as it all seems to break down to a bunch of useless flotsam so what better way to escape it all than to hook up with my hazardous Latino acquaintance, Eduardo.

Wednesday evenings are the scheduled time in Denver for Cruise Night, an evening when people of all ages, shapes and genders party and ride bikes to driving music blasted over speakers. Crowds of rave bouncing dancers, glow sticks and costumes and now and then you may see someone piping up some weed. I love to go down midweek and engage in this festive atmosphere which en locale, switches between being downtown at Civic Center park, or locating just east of downtown in the Denver City park. At any given moment the crowd can switch and say “everyone is meeting here”, which starts a mass exodus to the new established party spot. The crowd was diverting to City park;I was downtown and getting ready to hop the bus over to City park when my phone showed a call coming from Eduardo. This should make for some fine entertainment to take my mind off the troubles of the world-for a while. Ed told me he had a surprise to show me so I asked him to come pick me up downtown and we’d go fly over to City park. What’s the surprise, I asked him. “A ten pound hammer.”

I had no idea what the fuck that meant so I waited until he showed up in his nondescript auto. I jumped in and hit him immediately with a query about the hammer. He pulled out a small bag of white powder; “cocaine motherfucker!” Shit. It had been years-decades, since I’d touched the white stuff. Coke is an expensive drug, hard on the body after prolonged use and usually leads to some messed up scenarios due to the clusterfuck logic your mind adapts after ingesting the stuff. What the hell I thought, not like I’m paying for it so I pushed some up my nose and Ed took another hit as well. “Shit hits you like a ten pound hammer” he shouted and pushed the car down Colfax to the new Cruise Night location. Ten pound hammer indeed. I had forgotten how hard cocaine can stimulate the body and all it’s senses. Coke is one of those drugs that is great for physical activity, like fucking or dancing, not one to take and go into cerebral pontification-cocaine logic is messed up. As we parked the car and snorted a bit more I knew the night had only just begun.


The Abhorrent Mr. Chicken

Sad news today in our country as some people discovered, possibly for the first time in their lives, that some people have different opinions than them. I stood outside leaning against my friends van, smoking some weed, while I contemplated this. My friend had gone into some charming little cottage duplex that was alleged to harbor a coke dealer, while I stood outside in the misty rain wondering what in the fuck is up with some people. Are we seriously going to get in arguments over a fucking chicken sandwich? Dear God no wonder this country is crumbling like Rome.

A July 18th article reported Dan Cathy, president of Chic-Fil-A, had expressed his Christian value based idea on gay marriage to the Baptist Press. Cathy was quoted as saying “Chic-fil-a is very supportive of the family, the biblical definition of the family unit.”¬† This sent a disapproving crowd of protests from individuals that were appalled by the statement running to organize protests against the chicken sandwich food chain. The organized boycott, in turn, produced a backlash protest from people across the country¬† supporting Cathy’s personal ideals and/or freedom of speech.¬† Now Chic-Fil-A has turned in a better profit margin for the week, the protest dwindles, and nothing is learned.

In order to stand up in favor of religious freedom you must include groups you won’t necessarily agree with-hell, those you think are the epitome of evil itself but remember, once you attack another person’s beliefs, you open the door for them to come after you. If you wish to change what you consider a homophobic prejudice in this world, you don’t want to start censoring people from getting a chicken sandwich-then you’ll have people mad at you for taking away their meal, their freedom of choice on what cancerous fast food they choose to swill down. If Dan Cathy had come out and said his company takes a percentage of it’s profits and donates them to sweat shops in Yugoslavia, I think most people would be in agreement and not support this food chain, or if he had stated that his company would refuse service to married gay couples then sure, you would have a case on your hands but if any person chose to believe in God, Buddah or the Sacred Bleeding Merken then by the time my chicken sandwich is eaten and craps itself away, my connection to his life will be absolved. God (in metaphor) loves us all, we are all human and may get a bit bend sideways on our ways of thinking but don’t alienate yourselves further from reaching out a hand to another person by insisting they follow your train of thought, your beliefs, one hundred percent.

The argument may be made that the implications of this support for hardcore (or mainstream if you will) religious beliefs make gay people and those who support gay freedoms feel uncomfortable. I would hazard to guess that nine out of ten people going in a fast food restaurant could care less about your lifestyle. Rather than argue about the religion of this company’s president, I would rather we stood in agreement that the sandwiches cost too much.

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August 2012

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