Shock Therapy 101

I was quick to tease Kung Fu actor/infomercial activist Chuck Norris over his inkling to become the president of Texas. Ah, after further review it appears Gov. Rick Perry was posturing when whining about federal stimulus tyranny: Sorry Charlie; perhaps Oklahoma will accept your tempting offer. I’m assuming the confederation of wealthy southern planters’ intent on keeping slavery as a means to greatly reduce labor costs have been replaced by less chivalrous anti-labor union public relation firms. Ergo armed, open rebellion against the United States consists of mouthy media talking heads -- otherwise known as American Enterprise Institute employees. Then again, Gov. Perry may be upset that Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchinson is more popular. And who can blame him? Losing the Republican gubernatorial primary to Miss Kay isn’t what my beleaguered life trainer calls “a step in the right direction”. (Coach Lo Fat has been instrumental in holding my chi back from Downstream Casino).

It’s getting hard to take movement conservatives seriously. I hope Madame Rosa is right: Allowing wage earning Americans receiving federal tax cuts an opportunity to vent against any future progressive taxation against their wealthier populist comrades might prove therapeutic in the way that placeboes ‘treat’ hypochondriacs. Missing a golden opportunity to decry fiscal irresponsibility during the Bush Administration, at the very least today’s tantrums will give the descendants of Glenn Beck’s strange Paine plenty of space to piss, moan and generally bitch about the downside of reasonably free elections. Whether or not “tea parties” can capture the frenzied energy of sock monkey-waving Sarah Palin rallies remains to be seen.

Mr. Yellowman’s Word ’O the Day: Furcula: The act of eschewing easily sucked veins for those considered immodest in polite society.

Juan Don

Delimited Demimondaine

Speaking before a toasted breakfast gathering, Congressman Spencer Bachus (R-Ala) claimed seventeen members of the US House of Representatives receive taxpayer subsidized health care. He should know. An audible gasp was heard throughout The Yoked Dorking when Bachus dropped his eggshell. Diners confirmed the exclamation came from Donita Knotts; staring down at an extra set of dentures occupying space in her gravy bowl startled the retired lawn jockey sculptress. Luckily her biscuit survived the scare unscathed.

Rep. Bachus has yet to name the seventeen Socialists. Calls to his chief of staff requesting further clarification have not been returned. Because of a rare neurological condition known as Hewitt’s Disorder, the Congressman cannot be near electrical outlets without suffering from what is best described as illiterate Tourette’s. Reporters have long complained that covering Bachus requires demanding protocol: shouting questions up to his opened fourth floor office window. Exchanges invariable lead to the Congressman pointing to his ears and shaking his head.

When former Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson heard Bachus was threatening to expose elected officials secretly aligned with public libraries, fire departments and beret wearers, he expressed confidence that ‘Spence’ would limit his witch hunt to select pro-union representatives upset that “privatizing profit and socializing loss” places an unfair tax burden on American workers without free access to top-notch medical facilities.
______________

With all due respect, Allen Shirley should entitle his next op-ed submission The End of European North American Expansion: How Native American Tribes United to Defeat Manifest Destiny. He is inches away from Alice’s coveted rabbit hole. Simplifying Kierkegaard’s ‘Leap of Faith’ into March Hare bunny hops only strengthens his obvious grip on ideological detail. At least Shirley doesn’t end his oaken prose with “God wills it!” It’s always prudent to leave divine illumination in the hands of trained professionals.

John Putnam desperately needs to divert nickels from his scout troop's crusade against ecologically unsound lap dances and apply the change elsewhere -- such as basic internet access. His concern over President Obama’s origin of birth could then easily be laid to rest. Taking all of several seconds, I was able to view the birth certificate from the hovel’s fairly dry environ and temporarily assuage my nagging flirtation with conspiracy theories. Issued by the state of Hawaii, the certificate is numbered 151 1961- 010641.

And now I must finish coloring the eggs for what is sure to be a very soggy game of hide and seek.

Juan Don

Post script: The Easter punch was spot-on, as was Kyle Lohse’s pitching performance.
Mr Yellowman’s Word ‘O the Day: Obdurinate: Passing water on the tire of an occupied police car.

Die Blechtrommel

To illustrate my lack of local awareness, I had no idea Joplin has a Justice Building. The only Justice Building I could think of when first informed that restless natives would gather for a “tea party” was the one associated with Superman & Friends. After a pull of unadulterated V-8 (sound of palm smacking forehead), I remembered that The Man of Steel and his talented posse held their confabs in…the Hall of Justice, duh. Because damp brain neurons no longer spark synapses with rapid-fire regularity, it’s not uncommon for me to confuse a Blackthorn patron with The Green Lantern after lapping up one too many pints. And now that the sun has returned, the chances are swell that I’ll soon engage Wonder Woman for some lubricated beer garden banter. (Her invisible airplane is the cat’s meow for avoiding late-night road blocks). Obviously, DC Comics made more of an impression on me during my misspent youth than Marvel -- although I once played backgammon with Dr. Doom. But that’s another confessional best shared with “Flesh of the Gods” gourmets lurking around The Existentialist Cowboy’s pony pen.

Thanks to Mr. Yellowman’s fierce grip on reality, I’m up to speed on what’s going down on Tax Day. There’s plenty of time to decide on which sign to carry. Attracted to minimalist cardboard graffiti, I like "repent". It’s simple and covers an array of sins committed by later day Templars hell-bent on funding military crusades via Chinese owned IOUs -- an abomination, to be sure. However, there’s the chance waving "repent" might get Old Testament Christians off track. I’d hate to transform ‘grass-roots’ angst against President Obama’s election into an impromptu pogrom against same-sex marriage. No matter how many tea baggers may agree that gay and lesbian couples deserve a good stoning for demanding equal fleecing in divorce court, preserving the sanctity of assault rifle ownership is more in line with what the backers behind ‘spontaneous’ outbreaks of sour grapes have in mind.

My second choice is "pissed". Aside from accurately describing my perennial condition in British pub vernacular, this placard might entice creepy paramilitary types to probe the depths of my gun safe. (A true-blue Wolverine, my choice of weapon is handy pick axe). If boring libertarians think I’m just another put upon contrarian sick and tired of paying for public education, then I’ll opt for my third lettered display and whip out "hydrocodone". Mr. Yellowman believes this sign will tickle dittoheads known for their gamey sense of humor. This assumes that Jopinites sharing their head Mouseketeer’s adolescent fantasies are savvy as to why he has a wire sticking out of his skull. Of course, the risk is high that unsavory characters will badger me for the mother of all back pain medicine if the sign’s message is misperceived as very blatant advertising.

On cue, Madame Rosa wandered in and offered the crystalline solution: kook.
_____________

We’re set to go. The posters are finished and we’ve put together the perfect outfit for a little parking lot revolution:

Plaid Bermuda shorts
I’m with Stupid tee shirts
Calf length white tube socks
Roman sandals
Club Gitmo ball caps
Flask of Old Crow

Umbrellas serve a duel purpose: rain and/or beating back the chicks.

JB

Well Digging

Glenn Greenwald: “Note how warped our political culture is: Sen. Dick Durbin was forced to tearfully apologize on the Senate floor for accurately comparing our treatment of detainees at Guantanamo to the techniques used in Soviet gulags and by Gestapo interrogation squads, but those who perpetrated theses war crimes have apologized for nothing, remain welcome in decent company, and are still shielded by our Government from all accountability”.

Dick Cheney claims that “enhanced interrogation techniques” saved lives; it was a necessary tool to protect American citizens from future Jihadist attacks. If true, then this question must be asked: Why not have a full and open accounting? I should think that the former Vice President would want complete transparency in order to clear his name -- as would other high ranking administration apparatchiks involved in orchestrating and implementing the secret program. Congressional Republicans should be clamoring for the DOJ to investigate the previous administration’s extreme commitment to homeland security, assuming there is nothing to hide.

But oddly enough, there is a concerted effort to block such an investigation. Maybe Cheney needs to spend less time on Fox News and more time encouraging Sen. Mitch McConnell to get on the stick.
_________________

George Will stepped in it a few weeks ago when using spurious misinformation to opine about the hoax known as global warming. Immediately spotted by Washington Post readers, Will did what any professional conservative pundit would do when caught echoing rightwing flam…he doubled down in his next column. Although Will is no climatologist, he knows Al Gore’s crap about melting polar ice is just another liberal scheme to take away his Escalade. The thought that Will -- the whiz who transformed the beautiful game of baseball into Byzantine fuddle -- could screw up something as obviously phony as man-made climate change (it still snows in Fargo…hello?) is troubling. Is his bulb beginning to dim or did his assistant accidentally insert an excerpt from Sen. Jim Inhofe’s “Colder than a Witch’s Tit!!” as a factual example of global warming media hype? While Inhofe’s paperback is popular with couples who vacation in truck stop showers, his research technique is considered iffy because he based his conclusion solely on the surface temperature of his butt.

I’m looking forward to Will’s next musing on why the theory of evolution is responsible for the outbreak of interracial marriage.
___________________

The wife and I are thinking about joining the staff from National Review on their upcoming Mediterranean cruise. For only $2,499 clams apiece, we could mingle with the cream of wingnut intelligentsia. I’m assuming a ten foot pole is included in the fare.

Juan Don

A Day Indoors

The Nation’s headline “Gay Marriage in…Iowa?” summed up my immediate reaction. But after burning a bowl of blend number one, I recalled the large progressive presence in the state. In fact, an Iowan predicted very early on that Barack Obama would spoil Hillary Clinton’s coronation party. Cynical at the time, I greatly over estimated the Clinton Machine’s ability to drown challengers in corporate cash. Robert of Ames was instrumental in directing me to Obama’s well organized internet operation -- an eye opener, to say the least. Energized Cyclones were the first to pierce the bubble of Hillary’s perceived invulnerability: She found out the hard way that supporting BushCo’s “War on Terror” mortally wounded her appeal to net-root liberals.

Perhaps one day a majority of Missourians will conclude that discrimination based on sexual orientation violates a fundamental Constitutional right. (Madame Rosa, eyes closed, is clicking her ruby red heels in anticipation).

Speaking of the Show Me State, Roy Blunt’s desire to keep Kit Bond’s US Senate seat from turning blue isn’t a surprise. Since Tom Delay’s hard fall, Blunt has been shunted aside by House colleagues. Although close proximity to the disgraced former majority leader never posed a threat to his political fortunes at home, the stench from the Abramoff scandal presented ambitious Republicans -- further removed from The Hammer’s ethical ‘lapses’ -- an opportunity to squeeze him out of the national spotlight. Because he no longer wields power within the flailing GOP caucus, vacating the House for a chance at higher office is what career politicians do.

He’ll face an uphill battle against Robin Carnahan, the likely Democratic candidate. This assumes that he can survive the primary run-off. It’s doubtful the Blunt brand is wildly popular with voters residing outside the Cone of Incognizance -- also known as the Seventh Congressional District.

He could opt for Plan B and bide his time at The Heritage Foundation before setting up shop on K Street. The downside to representing Exxon-Mobile as a private citizen is the loss of free socialized health care.
________________________

Brief Sunday Meditation: “If my dog acted like Sean Hannity, I’d have him wormed”. Rev. Warren Miller
________________________

Newt Gingrich said wife number three wife facilitated his decision to embrace the Roman Catholic Church. What are the odds wife number four might nudge Newt toward Scientology? However one feels about Newt’s contribution to cable television disinformation, there’s little doubt Ralph Waldo Emerson would be pleased with his mercurial belief system(s). Actually, Scientology is the perfect fit for someone with his fascination for fantasy fiction. Remember the Contract with America?

I’m not sure which is more imaginative, L. Ron Hubbard’s “swarms of disembodied alien souls known as Body Thetans” or Newt’s pledge to “select a major auditing firm to conduct a comprehensive audit of Congress for waste, fraud and abuse”.

JB

For Ellen

Pipe tip to Miss Mary Prankster for turning me on to Dave Neiwert’s “The Eliminationists: How Hate Talk Radicalized the American Right”. This morning synchronicity mingled with spring pollen as my cyber surf board splashed up against Hullabaloo’s review. Tristero: “It has often been noted that to the Right, 9/11 provided an opportunity to “get” Vietnam “right” by invading Iraq and “winning” rather than ignominiously withdrawing. Despite the fact that by any rational metric, the Bush/Iraq war was an unmitigated disaster and the situation today is slightly less anarchic than a Hobbesian State of Nature, it is a given among movement conservatives -- and their enablers in the press -- that the “surge” worked and “we” are winning in Iraq”.

To think otherwise would be French.
_______________

A comrade e-mailed me this question: How long can Glenn Beck keep it up?

Assuming that she meant his teevee antics, I replied: As long as Murdock is making money.

Cable infotainment is, after all, only concerned with converting ratings into pricey advertising fees; major dittos for talk radio. Because corporations feed Glenn’s plastic rocking pony, he plays the “rodeo clown” for fun and profit. Yes, that’s how the genius who can’t decide if the president is a socialist, communist or fascist describes himself. He might as well pretend Obama embodies all three of Old Europe’s ideological flings into one kitschy grotesquerie. Too bad C-movie director Ed Wood is fly fishing with Jesus. I’m sure Ed could have spliced together an appropriately bizarre film clip of goose-stepping vampire/ballerinas from outer space to augment the “rodeo clown’s” apocalypse-tinged performance art. Actually, Ronald McDonald is damn scary and would make me think twice about embracing The One World Order. But I imagine the bulk of Glenn’s admirers eat their fair share of Happy Meals and wouldn’t take kindly to their freaky icon being unfairly attached to Barney Frank‘s perverse fanny pack.

At this point, Glenn is hard-pressed to keep the nightly histrionics fresh. His weepy Chicken Little act is in danger of becoming another over played YouTube curiosity. If he backs off his over-the-top displays of gut-wrenching, patriotic angst, the audience tuning in just for grins (which is undoubtedly a thick slice) would muff another link and replace him with Rob Zombie’s latest DVD release. Barring an actual alien invasion, I give Glenn a month before his ratings are on par with what Greta Van Susteren’s pap generates.

It would be delightful if Glenn opted for a killer finale, complete with burly psychiatric nurses chasing him about the studio with hypodermic needles -- not that such ineradicable inanity would dampen local interest in attending another “We Surround…Them” hootenanny.

Until our tea bags dip again,

Juan Don

The Grass is Calling

Chow Acre is pleased to announce that Millard Phil-Moore has joined the Wondrous Muck staff as an intermittent infection. A voracious consumer of further processed caffeine and nicotine products, MPM’s steely constitution mixes well with the hovel’s striking similarity to a large animal hospital engulfed in flames. An attorney by family pressure, MPM’s legal expertise is a valued addition to what can best be described as unfocused malaise and fascination with ‘50s era True Crime Magazine covers. Juan Don.
_________________

It won’t be long before joints are cheaper than cigarettes.

I remember when Marlboros cost 37 cents a pack -- and my unsolicited AARP card isn’t that wrinkled. Call me a class warfare agitator, but isn’t their another way to fund the S-CHIP program without accessing further monetary penalties against an addicted minority? If the underlying motive is to make tobacco products so expensive that only the lucky few can afford to puff away a lung or two, then it’s working. But if the goal is to raise revenue for the medical care of sick kids without health insurance, then the method is counterproductive: the time honored “squeezing blood from a turnip” adage is applicable.

Here’s a novel idea: Tax the rich. JB
___________________

Madame Rosa’s Friday Epiphanies before Habitual Happy Hour Oblivion Makes Her Easy Pickins’ for Morally Eclectic Lounge Lotharios:

Every time I see Michelle Malkin in action, I immediate think of an amateur colonoscopy gone terribly wrong.

Who would have guessed Anson Burlingame is a “lifelong Republican?” I appreciate the heads up.

Does John Cragin collect vintage pith helmets? If so, will lucky Twin Hills’ clubbers receive a special treat when he attacks the Easter buffet table adorned in flashy British West India parade whites? Hopefully, the Major can engage the saucier fare without soaking his flowing plume.

Thank goodness Carol Stark believes Steve and Cokie Roberts phone-in “liberal” columns. It’s safe to assume that C. Keith can read the paper without frightening other Waffle House enhanced hash brown gourmets. But then “liberal” views in Jasper County are best expressed by conservatives upset over spending money on stupid earmarks, like volcano monitoring. MR
___________________

Busy attending to pressing metaphysical matters, Juan Don will return tomorrow to glimpse the transcendental world of push-polling politics. This assumes that he can corner his spirit guide and finish applying Front Line.

Now, go plant some flowers.

The Nurse