Friday, March 18, 2005


Here is a splendid example of far too much of good thing. My excellent memory is already a considerable handicap, I can't forget fast enough; I can only imagine the number, size and scope of the resentments that might fester between my ears with enhanced recall.

The right to life whack jobs have enlisted their Republican butt buddies in Congress to intervene in the Terri Schiavo embroglio taking place in that bastion of sanity, Florida. (Why don't they rename this God forsaken backed-up septic tank of a state something more appropriate to its population like, Cretonia? Or Peckerheadton?)

Republicans circa 2005 sure aren't your daddy's GOP'ers. No sir, they not only want to steal you blind (traditional republicanism alive and well at DOD and Social Security), now they want to stick their nose in all aspects of your life and death ( new theo-republicanism). What happened to limited government and individualism, bed rock values of St. Barry Goldwater? Oh, I forgot, they went out the door when the Republicans made their faustian campaign contribution pact with the Christian Funny Mentalists and their loony tune, fairy tale Biblical literalism.

Right to life my ass. If it's a fetus that needs protecting these camera whores show up faster than you can say 'sacred'. If it's an eighteen year old Marine sent to Baghdad without proper armor, tough shit soldier. And it if it's a forty one year old woman who has been in a vegetative state for well over a decade, well hell, that's weeks worth of fucking photo opportunities for evangelicals and their elected whipping boys. Want to guess how much moolah they will raise by pleading 'life is sacred' while they make Michael Schiavo's life a nightmare? Dismiss the husband's desires on behalf of his wife and cruely cultivate the grief of the parents for politics sake. Now that's an outstanding example of Christian compassion.

One thing is for sure , if the congressional nitwits and professional zealots do make good on their ridiculous threat to subpoena Terri Schiavo, she'll be the brightest, most articulate person in the room.

Thursday, March 17, 2005


What's the definition of a well balanced Irishman?
He has a chip on both shoulders.

Like a flash of light on the road to Damascus ( OK, so it was more like the 50 watt bulb at the end of a sigmoidscope), today it hit me that I was no longer capable of dying young. Somehow I managed to sidestep an early demise and can cheerily look forward to being appropriately aged for my turn in the urn. Some days its the simple things that matter most.

In San Mateo County, California, hard evidence is no longer a requirement for a murder conviction and ticket to San Quentin's gas chamber. Jury instruction must have replaced "beyond a resonable doubt" with " if you believe the defendent to be a horse's ass".

Selecting a jury of peers for the former fertilizer schlepper (Dickens couldn't have made that one up) must have been amusing.

"Juror 33, are you a jerk or have you ever been in the company of a jerk?"

"My friends consider me a bona fide jerk, sir."

" Sorry, real jerks don't have friends. You're dismmissed."

The one and only reason Congress called a hearing on steroids and baseball and not booze and baseball: Booze has a money soaked lobby effort on K Street and steroids has Victor Conte and Jose Canseco.

Sunday, March 13, 2005


Nobody famous died this week although John Paul II continues to give a good effort. And exactly who decides when he's too pooped to Pope?

Since Congress is apparently using Jose Canseco's steroid tell all tome to select witnessess for next week's hearing, why, as Jason Whitlock reminds us, isn't George W. Bush being asked to take a seat? Canseco's ghostwriter posits that Bush, as the Texas Rangers Managing General Partner, had to have known that players were juicing.

Perhaps steroids were not a problem in the years 1989 to 1998 while Bush was turning a $600K investment in the Rangers into a $13 million profit. If precedent holds out, we will soon see former used car salesman and useless carbon life form, baseball commissioner Bud Selig accepting his National Medal of Freedom from the 'personal responsibility' president.

Screw the NCAA basketball pools. The big money is in the 'Jacko goes Whacko' sweepstakes. Just pick the date reality augers through 25 years of delusions and hits paydirt. Bonus points if you guess how it all ends e.g., gun, Jesus Juice overdose, auto erotic asphyxiation, insanity defense, licked to death at Neverland petting zoo.

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