Concession Speechless

Now that Mitt Romney is a footnote in presidential campaign history, more info is coming out about his last few hours of his campaign. For example, he didn’t have a concession speech prepared–and it showed. Turns out, he believed the swill that was coming out of the right wing noise machine, and didn’t feel it was necessary to compose TWO speeches. We’ve all seen his concession speech–I use it as an insomnia cure by playing it on a loop with “Lawrence of Arabia.” He probably composed that little ditty on a spare pair of magic knickers whilst the Secret Service was high-tailing it out of there, and whilst Ann was cancelling campaign workers’ credit cards. Luckily, we have a copy of his, ahem, “victory” speech for our viewing pleasure.

Now, my fave part of this whole shock and awe that has hit the Romney campaign is the fact that the President Romney transition website went live for a short while yesterday. Nice to know that he was really planning on fucking over people by getting rid of the ACA, or by cutting it so much that you probably would lose your house if you got castrophically ill and your regular insurance wouldn’t cover your treatment. Yeah, he’s a real fucking patriot, and it’s so presidential to actually want to fuck over half the country.

(courtesy techpresident.com)

He paid $25k for it too.

(courtesy politicalwire.com)

I have some friends who voted for Romney and I am sorry for their loss. I do and don’t get why they voted for him, just like I’m sure they feel the same way about me and my vote. While Obama ain’t perfect, he’s the one who will keep this country moving onward by not fucking over women, minorities, and the poor with archaic policies that will be headed up by folks like Allen West (“Secy of Defense”) and John Bolton (Secy of State). Of course, those are satirical choices, maybe these are closer to the truth. But, the idea of Scott Walker makes me realize that maybe these possibilities are Onion-esque too.

Only time will tell. You can find me at the bar if you need me.

 

 

Very Presidential

The finish line for the presidential election is in sight and thank fucking dog for that.

I don’t know about y’all, but this particular election season has been tough to take –even for a political junkie like myself. The decision for me was easy because I knew who I was going to vote for after pulling the lever in the previous presidential election. For those of you who don’t know me very well, let’s just say I rather enjoy having complete reign over my lady parts, and I care about what happens to those less fortunate than myself–even those folks who don’t look like me.

I wish I had stocks to sell to pay for my education, and hopefully someday I’ll be able to do it. When that day comes, I know I’ll still be on the side of all Americans, not just rooting for a select few who buy shit like helicopters, strap dogs to car roofs and pal around with NASCAR team owners.

To cut some of the nastiness of the past few months, here’s some presidential tidbits, trivia and other fun stuff to enjoy.

Who knew the 8th President of the United States would inspire a group of ne’er-do-wells to form a street gang in his name? I had no idea he was so mean, but Kramer did.

George learns how mean the Van B Boys are the hard way.

President Van Buren would be so proud.

Big meanie: President Van Buren (courtesy nndb.com)

Size doesn’t matter. The 4th President, James Madison, was the tiniest. He weighed about a buck and standing at a mere 5’4″, he coulda been a jockey if he desired. Standing at 6’4″, the tallest was Abraham Lincoln. President William Howard Taft was the most zaftig so far, weighing in at about 3 bills. Once President Taft got stuck in the White House bathtub and after being set free from his porcelain prison, he ordered a new one installed. This new tub could hold 4 grown men.

President Taft (courtesy funwithhistory.wordpress.com)

Age before beauty. The oldest was the Gipper (69) and the youngest elected was JFK (43). But the youngest POTUS to serve was Teddy Roosevelt. Teddy took over for President McKinley after McKinley was shot dead by an anarchist in September 1901. Teddy was 42 when he took over the top spot in politics.

The sporting life. President Benjamin Harrison was the first POTUS to attend a baseball game–the Cincinnati Reds vs. the Washington Senators (the Reds won). President Taft was the first prez to throw out the first pitch at a baseball game. This became a regular occurrence for all presidents, with one exception–Jimmy Carter. Oh, and John Quincy Adams loved to get all nekkid and swim in the Potomac each morning.
There goes my erection.
Geo Washington, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams all had one thing in common–besides diddling lady slaves–they adored, collected and played marbles.

Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door. Four presidents were assassinated while in office: Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley and JFK. Six others were much luckier and survived attempts on their lives: Jackson, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, Truman, Ford and the Gipper. Four others bought the farm whilst POTUS: Harrison succumbed to pneumonia one month to the day, after making the longest inauguration speech EVER. Zachary Taylor’s gut exploded 16 months after taking office in 1850. Major poon hound and the leader of  one of the most scandal-ridden administrations, Warren Harding, died suddenly in August 1923. The official party line was he died from a heart attack, but rumor has it his better half poisoned him because she was sick of him playing hide the presidential sausage with other ladies. The second and third presidents, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, respectively, died on the same day: July 4, 1826.

Smokin’ hot dead POTUS

Et cetera. Tricky Dick was the first president to visit all 50 states. Teddy Roosevelt was the first POTUS to travel abroad (Panama Canal), Slick Willie took 133 trips out of the country–the most of all presidents. President Roosevelt was the first one to fly on an aero-plane. That was in 1943. The Commonwealth of Virginia birthed the most presidents (8), while 31 states haven’t had one yet. The first POTUS born a US citizen was Martin Van Buren. The others before him were fuzzy ferriners.

Thoughts on 2016. Are you kidding? I don’t have any idea as to who I’ll back in 4 years. I just want to get through this one alive and stay on the right side of the law. But, I DO have an idea as to who should throw his besotted cap into the ring: Dave Tillis.

Purple Pain

I’m convinced that some male fashion designers absolutely abhor women. They make shit for, what they claim, is for art’s sake when in reality they fucking hate us.

Don’t believe me? Well, feast your peepers on these fab frocks and please, by all means, tell me what you think.

(courtesy of weirdomatic.com)

And, finally … nothing quite says art like a big, stank-ass ashtray with a smoldering cig in it that’s really a chapeau:

(courtesy of puppiesandflowers.com)

Once upon a time, actually it’s more like once upon many a-time, I puked up stuff resembling these threads. That was a time when I was knee-deep in a nasty-as-fuck eating disorder where refunding food was a common occurrence. So, it’s only natural that when I gaze upon such stuff, it’s like a bulimic ‘Nam PTSD flashback minus the “DIDI MAO!!”, rats eating through my tumtum to get out of the bamboo/water trap and Charlie. Thank dog that I no longer do such a thing. Instead, I prefer to showcase my self-loathing via this blog, and by committing petty crimes like flipping off truckers on the interstate and flashin’ mah boobs at the religious nutlies who dare to ring my bell.

All was well and good.
Then came you.

Fortunately, this didn’t cause me to stick my fingers down my throat, but it did give me one helluva chuckle. After watching it a few times, it reminded me of something. Long lead-in, but it’s worth the wait.

There. That’s much better.

What’s next?

Oh yeah. While I was shopping for various sundries and my weekly supply of box wine, I had a wee run-in with one of the neighborhood’s more colorful characters. I’ve seen this woman around from time to time–yelling at trees and fire hydrants–whatever object is harshing her mellow that day. She’s harmless–as far as I can tell–and she’s never said one word to me.

Until today.

After my reign of terror in Jewel, I was pushing my goods in a cart out to my car. I was in my own little McCrabass universe so I didn’t notice her quickly sidling up to me. By the time I spied her, it was too late. I turned just in time to catch some spit with my cheek and a dirty hand moving quickly to my head.

“WITCH! WITCH!”

I know, I was surprised too, but not really. I’ve been called worse and consider being called a “witch” a huge compliment, a badge of honor if you will. Unlike Christine O’Donnell, it would be easy for me to capitalize on this moniker.

Ruh-roh, I forgot to mention an important detail here. I had a layer of my chocolate-thunder brown hair dyed dark purple/blue. Also, the ends in the back look like they’ve been ‘dipped’ in the same color. It’s subtle, and looks good. Not outlandish at all, and considering what I’ve seen lurking on the streets of Chicago, my hair color is fucking Ann Romney-esque in comparison.

Not according to my touched little friend.

I grabbed her paw just as she was about to fondle my purple goods.

“Oh, no touch, dearest. You touch me and you’ll lose your hand, mmmkay?” I said, my eyes locked on hers.

I noticed then she looked an awful lot like Miles Davis and it gave me pause, but not for long. There was no time to ponder this similarity since her other hand was careening quickly toward my hair. This time, I slapped her hand away, put my hand up, palm facing her and raised my voice.

“You try this again and it ain’t gonna be pretty. I suggest you walk away before you get hurt.”

My heart was pounding by this point because this woman was big — bigger than me. I was scared shitless but my eyes never left hers. She finally backed down and started to wander off. I watched as she stomped off and was about to get into my car when it appeared she was at a safe distance, when she spun on her heels and screeched:

“I CURSE YOU AND YOUR PURPLE HAIR YOU FUCKING BITCH!!”

With that, I blew her a kiss, got in my car and drove home.

“Get in the ring”

It’s no secret that I follow politics. Why do I torture myself you ask? Oh, because I’m an emotional cutter.

But, seriously, I follow politics because I love studying human behavior– especially the magic knickers, Kenyan birth certificates, dressage horses, videos from 1998 that have nothing to do with nothing, et al. It’s all fascinating to me.

Each presidential election cycle is more whacked-out than the previous one, and as we draw closer to Election Day, I find myself saying on an almost hourly basis “Well, just when I thought it couldn’t get any whackier, ______ happens.”

In this particular case, ______ is our favorite pearl clutcher, Ann Romney. Take a listen to the clip below from an interview Mrs. Romney gave to an Iowa radio station yesterday. The fun starts about 1:23 in.

http://www.radioiowa.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/AnnRomneyInterview.mp3

So, this got me thinking (I know, there I go, working without tools again)….Hmmm…

Sure, I can go into the usual talking points about how her husband is basically a spineless chump who is shaking his campaign Etch-A-Sketch on a daily basis, or how he’s pandering to a particularly dangerous segment of his base who believes that Obama wasn’t born here, but that’s just too easy. Plus, it’s been done.

Instead, I’ve decided to have some fun with “Stop it. This is hard” and Mr. Romney’s recent 47 percent gaffe. You’ll see and please, feel free to join in on the fun.

“Stop it. This is hard. Sometimes I have to drive one of my many Cadillacs through neighborhoods inhabited by 47 percenters in order to get to one of my mansions. I don’t like white-knuckling it.”

“Stop it. This is hard. I had a horse in the Olympics and it was so difficult making sure he had the correct hoof polish.”

“Stop it. This is hard. I didn’t know what to do with the tax write-off Rafalca  awarded us, so I bought some fur-lined mom jeans for Mitt.”

“Stop it. This is hard. You try having conversations with some of your husband’s 47 percenter campaign staffers! I LOATHE talking to serfs!”

“Stop it. This is hard. I have to pretend I like people who aren’t exactly like me.”

“Stop it. This is hard. We had to sell stock to get to this place.”

“Stop it. This is hard. You try being married to a man who doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.”

“Stop it. This is hard. You know how difficult it is to get John Boehner to cry about someone he doesn’t give a red rat’s ass about?”

“Stop it. This is hard. Why didn’t those bitches at the RNC 2012 believe my insincere “I love you” during my duller-than-paste speech?”

“Stop it. This is hard. I just learned that some LGBT folks have families. They’re ruining my America.”

If I had a nickel for every time the Romneys said something stupid, I’d be in their tax bracket.

Aaaand SCENE.