There is a story in the Salt Lake Trib.

Turns out their sunning corpse got up and walked off, when investigated by police. And the men turned out to be high on more than just the marijuana they’d smoked.

But I was taken back to a time – over 3 decades ago – when I found myself sitting with a handful of equally polluted country music musicians, in an oriental restaurant that used to be on Redwood Road.  And, along with sobering amounts of coffee, going over a menu at 2 in the morning.

So I asked one of the guys, whose name I really shouldn’t mention (may he RIP these many years later), if he thought the Chinese Omelets were any good. He looked over at where I was pointing to on the menu, but soon fell silent – wondering about it himself.

The waitress finally came back over, and I let her know – straight off – how I wouldn’t mind trying one of those Chinese Omelets.  She, of course (I’m sure you’re already way ahead of me on this) said, “There is no Chinese Omelet on that menu.”  To which I confidently abjured – sliding a finger down to the contested menu item – “Sure there is; see – Chinese … Chineese … Cheese Omelet.”

Well, it just goes to show how some pretty embarrassing mistakes can happen.  And while it’s true – we were just drinking alcohol – everyone at the table was laughingly surprised to learn, they’d all thought it said ‘Chinese Omelet’ too.  Except for the waitress.  But I guess that was always the downside, when it came to putting away large amounts of good Canadian blended whiskey.  We all more or less shared Hartley Barney’s ringing endorsement of “How do they make it so good, and sell it so cheap.”

Now, of course – aside from an enlarged liver – it makes me wonder, how we were ever able to make it home in one piece.  But to my credit, I was the guy who wrote Free Cowboy Hats – in black Magic Marker – on a number of those toilet seat-liner dispensers, hung on walls of bathrooms, in some particularly rowdy beer joints we played.

~ Copyright © 2013, D R Hosie and The Salt Lake Daily Issue ~

United Kingdom Indenial Party chief Nigel Fararage has been advised by aides that he must avoid going back to Scotland at all costs or risk being burnt to death in a giant wicker man along with a variety of livestock.

Already herded into a pub for safe keeping in Edinburgh whilst the finishing touches were put to the imposing wicker structure, it appears the knee-jerk policy monger managed to escape by hailing a cab and instructing the driver to run over the man walking in front with a flag. After the car broke down it is rumoured that the UKIP leader managed to obtain a false passport and rely on board and lodgings from remote crofters under the false name of Angus McNoo.

Speaking from a secret location, rumoured to be safely south of the Watford Gap, Mr Fararage told reporters  ”It’s absolute nonsense. It’s just a few hundred thousand people that proved themselves incapable of having a balanced political debate and instead wanted to set fire to me in a stupidly large wicker statue shaped like a bloke, whilst they all drunk mead and sung songs. I blame the BBC for the whole thing. And The Proclaimers.”

Alex Salmond has surprised many by refusing to condemn the action. “It’s common knowledge that our crops have been failing for the last few years. Tradition states that if we sacrifice a closet racist with beagle like features and a gob on him like the Dartford tunnel then we will enjoy a bountiful harvest next year. And then I will become king.”

Nigel Fararage has argued that Mr Salmond’s plan is flawed asking  ”What if the crops fail again Alex? Your people will sacrifice you. Or The Proclaimers.”

Actor Edward Woodward has been offering support and advice to the UKIP leader. “I’ve been reassuring Nigel that it’s not as bad as it looks on the television. All he needs to do is shout Nooooo! a lot when they put him in there.”

Spontaneous celebrations were seen in cities in more than 180 countries, with crowds carrying banners and signs adorned with such slogans as “CONGRATS HOVA,” “TWICE AS NICE,” “BEY HAD SEX! KEG KEG KEG!” and “I JUST THOUGHT ABOUT BEYONCE’S BOOBIES “

This is how u make bey-bees duh.

Those in the crowds said that as soon as they heard the news of B’s second coital, they dropped everything to take to the streets.

“I was at work when I saw a status about the Beyntercourse that had taken place,” said Anna Westerton, who was among a group of several thousand celebrators outside the United Nations. “I just up and quit on the spot. I mean, this is the second most important day of my life. Right behind the first time She had sex.”

Others in the crowds said that they believed the Second Coming could have vast global ramifications.

“With everything happening in the world these days, it’s just nice to stop for a second and think about the fact that Beyoncé has recently engaged in vaginal intersex,” said reveler Jeffrey Timmonds as he attempted to storm London’s Buckingham Palace and remove “that fraud.” “The world’s a fucked up place,” he said, gesturing toward an Arby’s restaurant, “so it helps to find the bright spots.”

President Barack Obama held a Rose Garden press conference shortly after the news broke to congratulate Jay-Z’s penis and declared Friday national “Beyoncé Had Sex, Just Think About That For A Minute, Isn’t That Awesome To Think About” day.

“We as a nation have gone down a long road,” Obama said. “There have been storm clouds and dark days. But it is the undeniable, unbreakable spirit of the American people to rise up together in our toughest hours and say, ‘I live in a world where Beyoncé has done at least two sex. Everything’s going to be OK.’”

“Sarah, shut up. We’re here.”

The Green Ward of Osborne Psychiatric Institute and IHOP of Northern Virginia. This is where I would finally exorcise the demon inside me: former governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin.

“My friends,” I said to my three companions, “it’s been a long and wonderful journey, and we’re finally here.”

“It was a 30 second walk,” said Tim.

“And now we have a daunting task in front of us,” I said. “We need to find the Great and Powerful Political Consultant who can grant us our wishes.”

“He’s right there,” said Gary, pointing to a young black man asleep on a couch in the day room. He was wearing a straightjacket and snoring loudly.

“Uh… I guess we should wake him up then.”

Luckily, Sarah had calmed down and withdrew inward to sulk. I could still feel her burning hatred inside me as Gary roused the young man awake.

“My name is Antwon Dong,” the man said pleasantly, as he shimmied out of his straight jacket so he could shake my hand.

“Roger Cobb,” I said, suspiciously. “I’m an attorney. I don’t mean to offend, but you don’t look all that great and powerful.”

“I’m meant for greatness,” said the young man. “Someday, I’ll run for office. I think I’ll have a pretty good shot as long as no one cares about homosexual scandals or legal problems.”

“Uh… huh,” I said. “Why are you in here?”

“Last week, I stood before the US Senate and told them they shouldn’t listen to ultra right-wing extremists, and instead they should govern in a bi-partisan and selfless manner.”

“And they threw you in here,” I said. “It figures.”

“Oh hells yeah!” said Antwon. “Back in the loving arms of institutional comfort. I know it’s a sin to pass judgement, but this place is waaay better than the Bachmann Homosexual Spiritual Colon Cleansing Reprogramming Center™.”

“Look,” I said. “I don’t know if you can help us or not, but my friends and I came here for a reason. We’re all possessed by political idiots. Well, truthfully, I think they’re simply crazy. But me, I’m actually possessed.”

“You must be from the Blue Ward,” said Antwon. “I think I can help.”

“Can I go first?” asked Tim.

“My name is Antwon Dong,” said the consultant as he shook Tim’s hand.

“Timothy Mann,” said Tim. “Mitt Romney is inside me. Hi, I’m Mitt Romney. You know, for 20 years now, the Mormon religion no longer classifies black people as evil. You should think about joining. But you look like you’re part Asian too and I’m not sure what our rules are about that…”

“What can I do for you, Governor Romney?”

“I’ve always been seen as being rigid and having a stiff personality. People don’t think they can relate to me. It really hurt me in my attempt to run for president. I think if people just knew the real me, my message of protecting the wealthiest Americans really would have resonated with the voting public.”

“You’re not alone, Governor,” said Antwon. “A lot of politicians have trouble relating their humanity and warmth to people. Al Gore is a great example. But take heart, losing an election has a humanizing factor. Vice President Gore is busy today with his interests in green technology, writing, and his global futurist think-tank. He’s doing what he can to help people. He’s loosened up and found his stride in his post-political life. You could do the same.”

“THAT’S your advice?” asked Mitt, incredulously. “I’ve spent my entire career making money and pursuing power. I’m not going to help people. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well, ok,” said Antwon. “Maybe you and Ann could just do an interview with Chris Wallace  whining about having lost.”

“Now THAT’S more like it,” Mitt shouted excitedly. “You are the… what do you people say? ‘The Man?’ You are the Man! Bro! High five!”

We all expected Mitt to raise his hand for a high five at that moment, but he just stared at Antwon awkwardly with his hands at his sides.

“Who’s next?” said Antwon, turning to the rest of us.

“Ooh! Me! Me!” said George Bush in Gary’s body.

Antwon, George Bush, and S. Gary Crowe introduced themselves to each other. While they did, I leaned over to Tim.

“His advice doesn’t seem that great,” I said. “Do you really think Mitt Romney will leave your body now?”

“We’ll see,” said Tim. “All I can do now is hope.”

“Why haven’t the three of you ever tried to get rid of your possessors before?”

“They wouldn’t let us,” said Tim. “They all need to be here in this psychiatric institute. None of them want to leave. Glenn Beck is terrified of the government. He’s also afraid that Jon Stewart will try to interview him if he ever gets out of the institution. Mitt Romney needs the drugs here to keep him relaxed, and George Bush likes to eat the macaroni and glue.”

“People sometimes think I’m dumb,” George said to Antwon. “They misunderestimate me, which is good, because it means they won’t make fun of me. You don’t make fun of the kid on the bus with a helmet, right?”

“I think I can help,” said Antwon. “You need some book learning. Go back to Texas. I promise you – when you get there, there will be an entire library with your name on it.”

“Er… no,” said George. “I don’t want to actually BE intellectuallized. I just want people to THINK I am.”

“Next?” said Antwon.

“We have to talk about technology,” said Glenn Beck. “The last time progressives were in charge, there was an explosion of science, because the Nazis were there. They took new technology and they killed as many people as they possibly could. Al Gore’s not going to be rounding up Jews and exterminating them. It is the same tactic, however. The goal is different. The goal is globalization. That’s what Hitler did. That’s what Al Gore, the U.N., and everybody on the global warming bandwagon are doing. So here you have Barack Obama going in and spending the money on embryonic stem cell research. … Eugenics. In case you don’t know what Eugenics led us to: the Final Solution. A master race! A perfect person. … The stuff that we are facing is absolutely frightening.”

“Ah,” said Antwon. “You’re delusional. Not a problem. You just need some courage. I happen to have a bottle of it.”

Antwon produced a large bottle of amber liquid from within the folds of his straightjacket. “Here,” he said. “Whenever you have fears, drink this. It will give you courage.”

Antwon handed the bottle over to a delighted Glenn Beck and as he did, I noticed that the label said “Sloe Gin.”

“Oh my god, you are the BEST!” said Glenn. “I knew you were magic!” And then he started crying, bawling loudly between gulps as he poured the liquid down his throat.

“And now, Roger Cobb. What can I do for you?” said Antwon.

“Look,” I said. “I came here for political advice, but your advice… well, it kind of sucks. I’m not sure you did much for Tim and Gary. And as for my friend Leon Hart, well, I think you just may have turned him into an alcoholic. Why did you give booze to Glenn Beck? Why didn’t you give him advice?”

“Any words you say to a paranoid person will simply justify his paranoia,” Antwon replied.

“Huh,” I said, thinking it over. “OK, that’s actually kind of wise. Listen, kid, I just want to go home. WITHOUT Sarah Palin in my body.”

“Why do you want to get rid of her?” Antwon asked.

“Why? Why? What a ridiculous question! Sarah Palin is a mean-spirited and narcissistic right-wing ideologue. Half of my body is comprised of smug self-righteous conservatism. I want her gone.”

“Sure, Roger. But half the country is comprised of conservative-minded people. The US is more polarized now than it has been in the last 40 years. You don’t leave the country when the two sides are warring with each other. You do what you can to make it better.”

“People keep asking me why I’ve allowed Sarah into my body, as if I’m somehow complicit in her possession of me.”

“Well, you were complicit,” he said. “Your body wouldn’t have accepted her spirit if you didn’t see any appeal in her, even the tiniest bit. Sarah Palin represents emotion over logic, easy faith over cumbersome fact-checking, and speaking from the gut versus carefully measured words and tone. You’re an attorney, Roger. Surely, that kind of carefree attitude must have some appeal to you. I’ll bet Sarah really energized your life, at least for a while.”

“Sometimes I think that if I could understand her point of view,” I said, “I could somehow come to terms with my predicament. But what if I can’t? What if, not only her ideas and values, but the very way conservatives think is so foreign to me that I can’t even begin to see where we could meet eye to eye? In the meantime, it seems like Sarah is taking more control of my body. I’m afraid someday she’ll overwhelm me, and I won’t be Roger anymore. I’ll be Sarah. Not just a little bit of Sarah either. All of Sarah.”

“You’ll always be you, Roger,” said Antwon. “And this will always be your body. Sarah will never gain full control of it. In fact, she may have already reached her peak. You are a lawyer; a mediator. It’s your job to help both sides see each other’s point of view. You are an individual that values compromise, and you can’t understand why others don’t. Sarah Palin is someone who thinks people are either fully with her or fully against her. You don’t have to compromise with her, and you don’t have to give up any of your core beliefs. Not even a little bit.”

He was right. For the first time in a long time, I began to feel more at peace with my situation.

“You know, Antwon,” I said. “I totally didn’t expect this, but this is the best I’ve felt in weeks. I AM still me. Maybe I can’t do anything about what’s happening to my body, but I can definitely still have my own opinion. I don’t like having Sarah Palin in my body, but I’ll bet she hates being trapped inside a Left Coast Liberal even more. Even if we live together for the rest of our lives, I don’t have to accept what she thinks. Not only that, but I think I could really enjoy making her miserable.”

“That’s the spirit!” said Antwon.

“I guess I’ve accepted my situation,” I said. “Now, can you please get this bitch out of me?”

“Piece of cake,” said Antwon. “How long has she been in you?”

“Three months, almost exactly.”

“OK. I got this. May I please speak to Sarah?”

The air grew cold at that moment, and the lights dimmed. Gary, Leon, and Tim had departed a few minutes earlier, taking their newfound gifts back to the Blue Ward. In fact, all of the other inmates had left the day room, leaving Antwon and me alone.

With Sarah.

“You’ll never get me out of here, Twinkie. Neverrr… Well, at least until 2016. Then I got a date with the White House! Oh yeah! Boooo Ya!”

“Sarah, you should leave Roger alone. He’s never done anything to you, and he’s not that interesting.”

“Go to hell, bastard!” Sarah shouted. The ground began to quake. A cold fog rolled into the day room and gathered at our feet. I felt my body begin to rise, levitating off the floor. Antwon just sat calmly in his cushioned, plastic-covered asylum chair.

“How soon before you start running for repossession?” asked Antwon.

Sarah moaned in a guttural, unearthly voice. She chuckled evilly as she hovered. I felt my head turn far, far to the right, almost twisting entirely around, and then she stopped, and spun her eyes back to Antwon.

“What do you mean,” she asked.

“Repossession,” he repeated. “You have to possess him every six months if you want to stay in. You know that, don’t you?”

“I… The swami explained a lot of stuff, but it was dull and I was in a hurry.”

“You’ve already been holding this body for half your term,” Antwon told her. “You should really start thinking about preparing for a second term.”

“I…”

“Unless, of course, you want to leave to ‘focus on your family,’” he said. “You know, that seal is seeing a lot of air time that you could be getting.”

“The seal is… the seal is a genius…”

“The seal has teamed up with Al Gore to write legislation protecting Alaskan wildlife. It’s been on the news. People are calling Sarah Palin a sell-out. She’s doing really non-exciting things lately. Do you know what’s on her agenda for next week? A high school graduation commencement speech.”

Sarah gasped. “No! The… the seal has a plan. It’s only doing this to win the green votes and the youth votes. It’s called ‘electability.’ It’s something I don’t have.”

“Three and a half years is a long time to wait, Sarah. Think about the reality shows you could be doing.”

“But…”

“People are getting the seal, but they’re not getting you: your wisdom and your passion for conservative principles. They’re getting bored with the seal. It’s all about wildlife conservation and kelp these days.”

“You know, The History Channel DID say they wanted to do a documentary on my family called Grizzly Parenting… I suppose they need me for that…”

“Power of Christ,” said Antwon, and I dropped to my knees.

Sarah Palin was gone.

Not withdrawn. Not asleep. Not laying low. She was gone. I could feel it. She had left my body.

The lights in the day room brightened again. The fog disappeared and the air warmed.

I couldn’t believe it.

“Dang, Dong. The witch is dead.”

“Not dead,” he replied. “Just elsewhere. As long as her body is alive, Sarah Palin’s soul is out there somewhere.

“I take back what I said about your abilities,” I told him. “You really are great and powerful. In fact, you may be the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

“Glenn Beck is right,” said Antwon. “Al Gore really IS using global warming to round up the Jews and do experimental stem cell research on them.” He produced another bottle of Sloe Gin from his straight jacket and took a sip. “If my Republican trainers taught me anything, it’s how to detect government overreach.”

“I..” I muttered.

“Ahhh,” said Antwon, admiring the bottle. “God is good.”

“I…”

“Oh, hi,” he said, turning back to me. “My name is Antwon Dong.”

I reintroduced myself a few times to Antwon that day. I learned that he had suffered multiple head traumas as well as extensive brainwashing, so I could forgive him losing touch with reality now and again. He didn’t remember a thing about the exorcism he performed on me, which was probably for the best. We spent the afternoon sipping Sloe Gin and sharing stories. I think I made a new friend.

Even though I was happy to have my head to myself for the first time in months, I wondered what Sarah would have thought of Antwon if she were still here. He was delusionally conservative and batshit crazy, so I think she may have liked him too. It was weird to think that Sarah and I would both have enjoyed hanging out with the same person.

Maybe Antwon was right. There may be common ground between conservatives and liberals, even if you have to go to the loony bin to find it.

I didn’t care. I was just happy to be me again, and to have myself back. All of me.

]]> http://thedailyheckled.wordpress.com/2013/05/17/britons-fucking-hate-foreigners-new-study-reveals/ Fri, 17 May 2013 18:20:25 +0000 Mark Guthrie http://thedailyheckled.wordpress.com/2013/05/17/britons-fucking-hate-foreigners-new-study-reveals/

A bigoted cunt, yesterday. 

Much has been made of Ukip’s recent meteoric rise on the political landscape, with many questioning why the British public have been so ready to vote for such a bunch of right wing bellends, but a report released today shows that the British nation as a whole “fucking hates foreigners”.

The questionaire covered a wide range of issues, including Scottish devolution, national sports teams and the predicted size of Prince William’s penis when compared to other European figureheads, and the results have shown the average Brit to be a jingoistic, xenophobic idiot.

“I was totally surprised by the outcome,” said Professor Mack Kembastad of The Sunderland Investigation Institute who compiled the survey. “I always considered the British people to be fair and open minded. But it turns out that they are a bunch of racist arseholes.”

While much of the right wing media were ready to claim a victory for their disgusting ideology – with The Daily Mail tomorrow expected to run the headline ‘You’re all one of us now, ha ha ha!’ – many have been quick to dismiss the survey as irrelevant.

“The whole thing is complete bollocks,” explained former MP Tony Benn who always chips up at these things, even though nobody even asked him anyway. “The questions were misleading from the start, attempting to skew the results.”

Benn was referring in particular to question 19 of the survey that asked:

‘Which of these statements do you agree with most? (a) I want to watch and masturbate while 43 herpes infected Romanian immigrants repeatedly rape my sister, or (b) I fucking hate foreigners.’ 

“Much like the political scene in the UK at the moment, those taking the survey were not afforded a viable alternative and then chose the one they thought was least horrific,” Benn jabbered on. “However in the case of Ukip, they are completely wrong. They are just a bunch of bigoted cunts.”

Evermore

They declared they would fight to the end

Before ever betraying a friend.

     In a few weeks, however,

     They revised that damn “ever”—

And their friend they then ceased to defend.

–Tom Riley

It’s not enough that they live forever , they still mope around sad, wearing black and complaining.

“Oh, no. I shine like diamonds in the sunlight.”  Boo hoo.

“Woe is me. I’m a billionaire but this one mortal girl doesn’t love me.”

get a job.

‘Free Speech Clown’ Series

*

Bozo’s Handcock U Speech

(A theory of proto-Anglo-Saxon-chauvinism)

Bozo L’Dodo, past Valedictorian, was to deliver the introductory address for this year’s Handcock U commencement and his theme ‘The Inspired Republican Illuminati: Our Anglo-Saxon Heritage’ would secure his standing as the greatest of Handcock U satirists and past Valedictorians

Bozo had chosen this topic to deflect criticism of his not having fulfilled the Handcock U forecast of becoming 43^rd President of the United States, because everyone believed the nation would be better off if he had realized this ambition for the school

Bozo was drunk, both in the composition and delivery of his masterwork address, as were the majority students who had been advised this would be the only state in which Bozo’s short oratory could be fully appreciated. Handcock U’s president attended absolutely stoned on his wife’s Prozac, dreading the coming moment

Bozo, teetering only slightly, after-all, he had been dead drunk for the near entirety of his life and was quite enabled of his condition, began:

My beloved brethren (Bozo neglected to remember women were present, the cause of his alimony payments which he had never understood)

Follows here a fanciful exam of the source of our American behaviors and American Republican closet morality- in a historical context of our British cousins and our own America’s Royal ‘Curious George’ Bush. (The school’s president groaned)

Nearly every educated American of our generation had been psychologically nursed as a child on the wisdom of stories about Curious George, a playful, innocent monkey, but lacking the necessary brains to innately recognize or extract himself from dangerous situations. (the school’s liberals had become interested already, going against experience and every instinct)

Fortunately, or so it seemed at the time of our childhood, George was in the nominal charge of the ‘Man in the Yellow Hat’, a benevolent and wise person with great understanding of George’s nature… and yet for all of the Man in the Yellow Hat’s mis-approbation of George’s innate delinquent nature, it cannot be denied that these stories inculcated our thinking with one great flaw. Repeatedly, the Man in the Yellow Hat left George unattended- leading to multiple circumstance enraging the innocent surroundings of our very small world’s neighborhoods. In fact, George is a vandal and the Man in the Yellow Hat is his enabler. Today, we will have a look at the larger historical background of our own George and his Man in the Yellow Hat: Tony Blair

Here in the USA we speak Yank. My own traceable English ancestry migrated from London to Virginia about 1640 and in the meantime that has mixed, I am sure, with people declining Robespierre’s invitation to a party, as well the emptied jails and insane asylums of England, religious fanatics from the continent, Indians, Blacks, Mongols, and I am obviously ‘mongrel.’ But it wasn’t only noble political refugees, criminals, lunatics and fanatics that were culled from the old world, but many Yeomen as well, mixing with the other populations, creating the curious mix of our state today. I suspect that my friends ‘down under’ have a somewhat similar social biography in the world of our Aussie cousins. (the Dean of Humanities began to feel sick at his stomach)

Now what I suspect what we expatriates sometimes experience, though no fault of our own, is a deleterious genetic effect that Europe in general, and England in particular, had sought to eliminate from their ‘families.’ I carry this remarkably deleterious gene myself, and my research on the matter tentatively suggests it cannot be deleted because of perpetual hybridization in our American family, and there has been no pogrom for this gene’s elimination. For research purposes I am naming the deleterious gene “Proto Anglo-Saxon Chauvinism.” (the school’s Chancellor began to feel faint)

Now again, we all had thought this PASC gene to be largely recessive in our American population, but I think we must consider it may manifest in heretofore un-noticed behavioral traits such as my own present subconscious urge, example given, a suddenly un-suppressed desire to make a comment such as this short Address. I invite the listener to consider my words taken for a particular hand gesture of continental origin. (Bozo held up his hand with a middle finger, men chuckle and women gasp in the audience)

This gesture had been, once upon a time in Anglo-American relations, flung across the Atlantic, in both directions, and had been historically taken for ‘rudery’

Now in our American population, we had thought the PASC gene (and source of this behavior) to be largely benign, excepting in the Republican party where it is concentrated to an unhealthy degree in this political pseudo nobility, the American Tories. Here, it is noticed in the American PASC Republicans who are ashamed of their ‘doodles’, normally which they only ‘yank’ in the dark, and claim they never ‘yank’ out of context. (Senator Larry Craig turns beet red and the Handcock U president puts his face in his hands)

This bears a bit of explanation. Versed a bit in the American experience relating to our Anglo Saxon heritage and the ‘divorce’, there are historical examples of general insults, inevitably intended, with some exceptions, this shouldn’t ever result in fisticuffs, but sometimes has between friends and brothers, with a bit of liberty and license. (the British interest in the audience perked up)

In so far as these  insults go, there was one delivered a couple of centuries and a score years ago in the vicinity of Yorktown, Virginia, a small ditty of British origin, composed by a campfire in the army of His Majesty, adopted by my countrymen, and that is ‘Yankee Doodle.’ I do believe that a close scrutiny of the song by the science of etymology must reveal ‘yank e’ doodle’, the precise original term, is 18th century cockney or equivalent dialect, refering to the manipulation of a peculiar bodily part- hence the terms ‘yank’ and ‘yankee.’ (Stunned silence in the largely American attendees, the few British sniggered)

Probably the context of the Americans adopting the sobriquet was made in the heat of fraternal dispute, proposed example given, ‘and if we can whip you who named us that, what does that say about you?’ (A single drunken whoop from a Texas Cowboy alumnus, the British chuckles were over)

But we all went on to patch things up, and out of purely good and manly sportsmanship, us ‘Yanks’ kept the name and became endeared of it, despite the dangers of embarrassment to our progeny. (The British are suddenly interested again)

There does seem to be a bit of national amnesia concerning the origin of the term, but who hasn’t heard of the New York Yankees? In our modern idiom they would be called the Manhattan Masturbators (rousing cheers from this west coast school’s Oakland Athletics fan base, the British laughing out loud)

At any rate, all of us hybridized American folk have had to learn to get along despite the presence of ‘proto Anglo-Saxon chauvinism’, and so it is just sort of lurking there, a characteristic of our ‘family.’ It must be my own mark of the gene that fails to see any serious impropriety in these remarks, but in fact I am disturbed by Tory and Republican  behaviors, these progenitors of  ‘Yankee’ behavior. (Bozo’s alumni classmates, on this cue, raise a ‘Students for a Democratic Society’ banner, the British delegation is split)

Now, I am not privy to any modern research concerning the deleterious PASC gene in the old world and whether the efforts to eliminate it were entirely successful, and I am not familiar with the norms of  behavior there, but I would caution my Royal Old World cousins not to breed too closely, if this is what was intimated when Mr Mitterand noted Maggie Thatcher had “the eyes of Caligula.” (San Francisco’s British consular delegation walks out)

Before I am subject to medieval justice and suffer the fate of Guy Fawkes, consider this bit of oratory in the tradition of Punch & Judy and might not intemperate replies from a particular quarter make the case that these beloved characters (whom Americans might well embrace) are expatriates as well. (The British having left, no one understood this line)

Well, here, plainly stated, is an American polled by pundits, strongly suspecting Curious George Bush is an Anglophile (does he truly love Tony Blair?) and I cannot help but infer that the whole world has noticed and is prepared to conclude the Americans cannot help but ‘yank’ another’s ‘doodle’ when they should better keep their hands to themselves. (drunken male crowd roars, outraged women are leaving in droves)

But consider first the primary party responsible for our ‘Yankee’ makeup, and please, only then consider our character. (drunk Log Cabin Republicans have been shouting Hallelujah Brother!!)

And I beg my Anglo cousins, whether Proto Anglo Saxon Chauvinism survives in the Merry Old England or not, do bring Curious George Bush home to be Tony Blair’s ‘retirement’ butler, and ‘We the People’ will happily keep our sobriquet ‘Yank’, dubiously renewed in the eyes of your American cousin by our Commander in Chief in concert with your own, whom in tandum have, whilst whistling our glorious tune, Yanked their Doodles out of context worldwide! (Wild cheering, standing ovation)

And thanks for NOTHING England!!” (Bozo ends in Richard Nixon’s famous pose while shouting the ‘Fighting Chicken’ sport slogan ‘Cock a Doodle Do!!’ pelvic thrusting with raised middle fingers rather than victory signs)

Commencement did not proceed beyond Bozo’s speech because the ‘Fighting Chicken’ male student body rioted, erupted from the hall and took the occasion to tear down the school goal posts. Women who hadn’t the sense to leave earlier were raped. Handcock U’s president resigned and the school Chancellor committed suicide. Diplomas were put in the mail. Bozo’s fame grew…

**

This week’s Interweb assemblage has been garnered via hours of intensive research. avoidance of the human race, procrastination (designing a new header for the blog), physically taxing duties (returning texts) and resisting the incursion and retreat of De Gaulle. And his bladder.

All the while sparing no expense, and at the risk of great bodily harm. Yes!
Dangerously and precariously balanced on the table next to Laptop Command Central totters the aging, dusty and cat hair entombed Stack of Death. A horrifying site of deforestation comprised of collection notices, medical bills, pleas for donations (sucks to be you), credit card offers from banks unaware of Miss R’s credit score, SSD paperwork, Medicare paperwork, and the abomination of them all: a six by 9 inch stack of papers, scraps of papers, and plasticized pieces of paper we like to call To Be Filed.

Never venturing far from YoYo-Dyne’s Secret Underground Bunker located somewhere in Reno, underground, here are the funniest and most amusingly WTF items uncovered this week.

Source

Have finally managed to save time when visitors come by and want to ‘play’ my piano

Read one of those ubiquitous online directives ‘Pick up the book closest to you. Turn to Page 45. The first complete sentence describes your sex life for 2013.’  What I found was “Don’t hold your breath trying to get through.” How do it know?!

Source

That’s it for today. Tune in next week for the continuing saga ‘Getting Off Your Adorable Ass and Accomplishing Something Creative.’ Followed by our new segment ‘Defenestration, Power Bills, and You!’

~Miss R

]]> http://kristinllee.wordpress.com/2013/05/17/598/ Fri, 17 May 2013 17:12:16 +0000 Kristin Lee http://kristinllee.wordpress.com/2013/05/17/598/ I see you are fast asleep, therefore

On the foot of your bed, I will creep

Leaving special presents,

To make more work for you;

Because I know it brightens your day!

Oh how I love you!!!!

And I wish I knew how to say,

“Get up already and FEED ME!

And then let’s play.”

Love Always,

Your Best Friend

     What?!

     No.

     You insolent fool!

     This isn’t from the damn Dog!!!

     Do you think that drool sack

     Is capable of such sophistication and class?

     Ugghhh!

          Love Furever,

-Or until I plot your death!-

The Cat

10 bizarre things on the internet

Candy Crush Saga is evil

Why time travel is no good

Video review on video reviews

2. I’m never going to speak to her again.

3. Let’s just drop it.

4. I don’t care how I look.

5. I believe that you want to advance your career to help better support our family, and not just for personal gain.

6. I only use facebook so I know when my friends are having their birthday, so I can send them an eCard.

7. You choose dinner tonight.

8. I need your help.

9. I don’t care if you agree with me or not, just answer the question.

10. You forgot! That is ok we all forget sometimes, you’re only human.

Like I mentioned earlier, only in Germany can a political party go for (and actually get) votes by promising to raise taxes.

But I now stand corrected: (actually hope to get) is what I should have written. It turns out that not even do-gooder mainstream green-like German green people like the idea of increased taxes all that terrible much. At least not when the cameras have finally been turned off and they can answer a survey in peace and quite when the Green Shirt party watchdogs aren’t breathing down their necks.

Ever since the announcement of that wacky plan of theirs to raise the top rate of income tax to 49 percent for those earning 80,000 euros ($104,000) a year or more (and to 45 percent from 42 percent above 60,000 euros), voter support for them has dropped steadily.

I guess there’s GREEN in theory and GREEN in practice after all. And practice makes perfect, you know.

Die Grünen erreichen im Politbarometer nur noch 13 Prozent. Dass die Steuerpläne der Partei schaden, glauben 53 Prozent.

Happy Friday!

As I promised, I am listing links to all the Bears in the Air cartoons that I’ve done over the last couple of months. So, without further ado: Mr Wu’s New Adventure;  Mr. Wu gets a Present,  Up in the air, Junior Pandas!  There is no Crisis a Snappy Graphic Can’t Solve.  May Day: The Flight of the Fuzzy Cubby,  The Sooperpanna Reveals His Cunning Plan;  The Exciting Conclusion of Bears in the Air;   Mr. Wu is Very, Very Sorry;  The Panda Kindergarten Enters the Witness Protection Program;

And of course it wouldn’t be Fabulous Furry Friday without an offering from the archives.  Have a pandaful day!

The panda kindergarten is in training….

Be the Bear!

Bob T. Panda

Oh, and maybe buy my books too!

The Cooper Union is a satirical university website, created by activists who are unhappy with the corporatization of education in America. While the site is meant to be humorous, it does raise awareness to some of the issues that for-profit education has: namely that they are more concerned with the shareholders than they are the students, always trying to maximize profits – but to what cost?

The HELP Senate committee found that for-profit schools spent an average of $2,050 per student. Apollo, parent of University of Phoenix, comes in at only $892 per student spent on instruction – while $2,225 spent (per student) on marketing and $2,535 was generated (per student) in profit. This can be contrasted by looking at schools of the traditional model who spend between $3,344 and $11,128 per student. For as much as students spend on higher education in America, it doesn’t really feel like they could possibly be getting a fair return on their investment from for-profit universities.

As of 2010, 10% of all college students were enrolled at for-profit colleges. While student loan debt is a major economic issue in America at the present time, we also have to wonder if these for-profit schools are even equipping students with ample knowledge or skill before sending them out into the workforce. As it is, employers are becoming increasingly pickier about who they hire – so it doesn’t seem fair that for-profit universities spend so little money on instruction, thus short-changing students.

I mean, this is the issue I have with American Right-Libertarianism (Ron Paul, Gary Johnson, Murray Rothbard). Sure, it seems idyllic to shrink over-powering forms of government and to emphasisize personal freedom but in the end, they want to privatize and corporatize everything instead. And to me, it would raise all of the same issues we see with for-profit education.