Have a go at Pink Floyd Live,
whilst you're reading this superb Satire.

I Still Hate You,
Sarah Palin!

friday, july 10th, 2009

one of the most terrifying moments of my political life came last summer at the Republican convention in St. Paul. No, I don't mean seeing John McCain careering around the Xcel Energy Center like Eyegore in Young Frankenstein, his face frozen in a Lon Chaney Sr. rictus grin as he reached across the aisle to his erstwhile friends in the media and got his hand bitten off. Rather, I'm referring to the aftermath of Sarah Palin’s outrageous acceptance speech, which whipped up the Rotary Club delegates into a frenzy of white-boy fury that not even heckling by a brave Code Pink embed could deter. Truly a fascist classic and one that sent shivers down our collectivist spines.

Even worse was the glaze of horror on the phizzes of the assembled heroes of the Mainstream Media. Andrea Mitchell — yes, the very same Andrea Mitchell, NBC News, Washington, whose employer saw no conflict of interest at all when she married then Fed pooh-bah Alan Greenspan — stood there gaping like a frog while the rest of the assembled Finemans and Matthewses and Olbermanns scurried around like roaches when the light gets turned on: What the hell just hit us? For one horrible moment, it looked as if the carefully crafted plans of David Axelrod, Rahm Emanuel, George Soros, and the Second Chief Directorate, first department, of the old KGB were about to gang agley.

Not only were we offended at the sheer effrontery of McCain’s pick: How dare the Republicans proffer this déclassée piece of Wasilla trailer trash whose only claim to fame was that she didn't exercise her right to choose? Where were her degrees from Smith or Barnard, her internships at PETA, the Brookings Institution, or the Young Pioneers? We were also outraged that the Stupid Party had just nominated a completely unqualified candidate nobody had ever heard of, a first-term governor of Alaska whose previous experience consisted of a small-town mayoralty. As opposed to our guy, Barry Soetoro of Mombasa, Djakarta, and Honolulu, a first-term senator nobody had ever heard of, whose previous experience had been as a state senator (D., Daley Machine) in Illinois. After eight long, illegitimate, lawless years of &*^%BUSH$#@! tyranny, how dare you contest this election?

And so the word went out, from that time and place: Eviscerate Sarah Palin like one of her field-dressed moose. Turn her life upside down. Attack her politics, her background, her educational history. Attack her family. Make fun of her husband, her children. Unleash the noted gynecologist Andrew Sullivan to prove that Palin’s fifth child was really her grandchild. Hit her with everything we have: Maureen Dowd of the New York Times, taking a beer-run break from her quixotic search for Mr. Right to drip venom on Sister Sarah; post-funny comic David Letterman, to joke about her and her daughters on national television; Katie Couric, the anchor nobody watches, to give this Alaskan interloper a taste of life in the big leagues; former New York Times hack Todd "Mr. Dee Dee Myers" Purdum, to act as an instrument of Graydon Carter’s wrath at Vanity Fair. Heck, we even burned her church down. Even after the teleological triumph of The One, the assault had to continue, each blow delivered with our Lefty SneerTM (viz.: Donny Deutsch yesterday on Morning Joe), until Sarah was finished.

You know what? It worked! McCain finally succumbed to his long-standing case of Stockholm Syndrome ("My friends, you have nothing to fear from an Obama presidency"), Tina Fey turned Palin into a see-Russia-from-my-house joke, "conservative" useful idiots like Peggy Noonan and Kathleen Parker hatched her, and finally Sarah cried No más and walked away. If we could, we'd cut off her head and mount it on a wall at Tammany Hall, except there is no more Tammany Hall unless you count Obama’s Tony Rezko–financed home in Chicago. And it took only eight months — heck, Sarah couldn't even have another kid in the time it took us to destroy her. That's the Chicago way!

Yes, my friends, it's once again time to quote Sean Connery’s famous speech from The Untouchables, written by David Mamet — the lecture the veteran Chicago cop gives a wet-behind-the-ears Eliot Ness (Kevin Costner, back when he was a movie star) while they sit in a church pew. "You want to get Capone? Here’s how you get him: he pulls a knife, you pull a gun, he sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That’s the Chicago way!" If you just think of us — liberal Democrats — as Capone you’ll begin to understand what we’re up to. And we just put one of yours in the morgue.

I don’t know why I'm telling you this, but maybe now you’re beginning to understand the high-stakes game we’re playing here. This ain't John McCain's logrolling senatorial club any more. This is a deadly serious attempt to realize the vision of the 1960s and to fundamentally transform the United States of America. This is the fusion of Communist dogma, high ideals, gangster tactics, and a stunning amount of self-loathing. For the first time in history, the patrician class is deliberately selling its own country down the river just to prove a point: that, yes, we can! This country stinks and we won’t be happy until we’ve forced you to admit it.

In other words, stop thinking of the Democratic Party as merely a political party, because it’s much more than that. We’re not just the party of slavery, segregation, secularism, and sedition. Not just the party of Aaron Burr, Boss Tweed, Richard J. Croker, Bull Connor, Chris Dodd, Richard Daley, Bill Ayers, the Reverend Jeremiah Wright, and Emperor Barack Hussein Obama II. Not just the party of Kendall "Agent 202" Myers, the State Department official recruited as a Cuban spy along with his wife during the Carter administration. Rather, think of the Democratic Party as what it really is: a criminal organization masquerading as a political party.

If you had any sense, you would start using our tactics against us. After all, you have a few lawyers on your side. Sue us. File frivolous ethics complaints against all our elected officials until, like Sarah, they go broke from defending themselves. (David Paterson would be a good place to start.) Challenge the constitutionality of BO2’s legion of fill-in-the-blank czars — none of whom have to be confirmed, or even pass a security check. (Come to think of it, neither did Barry.) Let slip your own journalistic dogs of war, assuming you have any, to find Barry’s birth certificate, his college transcripts, whether he applied to Occidental as a foreign student, and on which passport he traveled in 1981 to Pakistan with his friend Wahid Hamid, for starters.

You might also want to think about interviewing New York literary agent Jane Dystel, who a) contacted the totally unknown Obama in the wake of an adulatory New York Times piece in 1990 and b) got him a $125,000 advance for a memoir that c) he couldn’t write, even after a long sojourn in Bali, which d) got the contract canceled, whereupon e) Dystel got him $40,000 from another publisher, following which f) the book finally came out to glowing reviews and g) Obama fired her. Wouldn’t she have an interesting story to tell?

Of course, you won’t. You’re too nice, too enamored of history and tradition to realize that the rules have changed. Remember, I live and work in a town where, “Hello, he lied,” isn’t a joke; we men of the Left are perfectly comfortable lying, cheating, and stealing — hello, Senator Franken! — in order to attain and keep political power. Not for nothing is one of our mottos, “By Any Means Necessary.” You see, we’re the good guys, and for us the ends always justify the means. We are, literally, shameless, which is why Bill Clinton is now a multi-millionaire and Eliot Spitzer is already on the comeback trail.

In Saul Alinsky’s Rules for Radicals, "the fourth rule is: Make the enemy live up to their own book of rules." This is the book that "Reset" Rodham (what ever happened to her?) and BHO II grew up reading and continue to live by. If you don’t understand that that’s the way we see you — as the enemy — then you’re too dumb to survive. Remember that for us politics is not just an avocation, or even just a job, but our life. We literally stay awake nights thinking up ways to screw you. And one of the ways we do that is by religiously observing Alinsky’s Rule No. 4.

Did Sarah stand for “family values”? Flay her unwed-mother daughter. Did she represent probity in a notoriously corrupt, one-family state? Spread rumors about FBI investigations. Did she speak with an upper-Midwest twang? Mock it relentlessly on Saturday Night Live. Above all, don’t let her motivate the half of the country that doesn’t want His Serene Highness to bankrupt the nation, align with banana-republic Communist dictators, unilaterally dismantle our missile defenses, and set foot in more mosques than churches since he has become president. We've got a suicide cult to run here.

And that’s why Sarah had to go. Whether she understood it or not, she threatened us right down to our most fundamental, meretricious, elitist, sneering, snobbish, insecure, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders bones. She was, after all, a "normal" American, the kind of person (or so I’m told) you meet in flyover country. The kind that worries first about home and hearth and believes in things like motherhood and love of country the way it is, not the way she wants to remake it.

What you clowns need, in other words, is a Rules for Radical Conservatives to explain what you’re up against and teach you how to compete before it’s too late. Luckily, since I care about money even more than I care about politics, I have just such a book in the proposal stage, currently making the rounds of various publishers, assuming any of them are wise enough to take me up on it.

And, yes, this time it really is personal.

By David Kahane, NRO.

Around The Garden Center™.

The roads were all but deserted as I came into work on Friday morning, at 7:30am. People starting their 3-day holiday weekend, by sleeping late. I had payroll to do, as usual, plus deal with the usual several score of inane phone calls, from folks who can't figure out why their trees' leaves are "browning-off", even thought it's been raining and they haven't been watering. ACK! Common sense, people! It was actually a fairly busy day, with all of my employees leaving around noon, except Jennifer, who stuck it out until 3:30pm.

The July 4th Independence Day Holiday Weekend, drained me mentally and physically. Although I only worked a half-day on Saturday, and was off on Sunday (all July & August Sundays!), I brought home a pile of new LSCP templates, and worked on refining them. The other problem was that July 4th fell on a non-workday (Saturday), and since my employees are allowed 3 paid holidays per season, I had to give them the paid holiday, even though they'd worked a full 5 days. There are no other "real holidays" until Labor Day. I'm a good, Conservative Small Business Owner, and I relish helping-out my employees and their dependent families. Thanks to those who remained behind and did their jobs, as everything got done as was scheduled. It's called "teamwork". I closed down at 3:30pm on Friday, attached a sign to the front gate sign to let people know we'd be closing at 12noon on Saturday, and that we'd now be closed on all Sundays in July & August, re-opening on September 6th.

As I drove into work on Saturday morning at 7:15, I saw a guy on a bicycle; no other vehicles. It was truly eerie. I stopped for gas and a coffee-to-go, and still no one else on the roads. It kinda reminded me of one of those "America Nuked" movies, and he and I didn't know it actually happened. The 3 ladies at the Rutter's Store seemed oblivious to the lack of traffic, other than attributing it to the holiday weekend. Traffic at the Complex was light — we did about $1,500 — and closed at 12noon, as advertised. I went home and fell asleep on the couch with the cats for 4-5hrs, and woke-up to feed them, open the computer to Windows 7, and wait for the local fireworks to begin.

No, I don't go out on the roads for either New Year's Eve or the Fourth of July; they're the two most deadly and carnage-ridden days of the year: thousands of accidents and many hundreds of deaths. Police said July 4 is the second deadliest day of the year for motorists, just behind New Year's Eve. According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, 34 percent of all drivers involved in traffic related crashes over the 2007 Independence Day weekend had blood alcohol contents of .08 or higher. Of the 200 traffic related fatalities reported that holiday weekend, 44 percent involved motorists whose blood alcohol content was over the legal limit. Nothankyouverymuch; I'll stay home on those two days.

I worked in Windows 7 for most of Saturday afternoon and evening, installing software apps and running them to be sure they worked in my existing Win-XP SP3, and equally-well in Win-7. They all did. Hoo-rah! Woo-Hoo! Whatever.

Sunday morning was a whole different story. My wireless Logitech MX3200 Laser keyboard and mouse had stopped working. I tried new batteries and reconnecting them, but it didn't make a difference. I was supposed to go to Mom & Dad's for a 2pm lunch, but instead had to drive down to the Complex and get another keyboard and mouse package. Fortunately, I had an exact Logitech MX3200 Laser *spare* on the storage room shelf, and had it up-and-running in less than 2 hours, after getting back home, mid-afternoon. I fell asleep for the rest of the afternoon.

It's a shame that so many small cities' and towns' July 4th fireworks celebrations were canceled due to budgetary concerns, but I know several townships around here which scaled-them-back somewhat, for just that reason: money. Hey, you do what you gotta do, in light of the "Obama-commie-engineered-depression".

It's July 6th, and temps are barely into the upper-70s/ lower-80s, when we should, based upon historical evidence, be in the lower-to-mid-90s. I'm not complaining, mind you, but my tomatoes and eggplants aren't liking this rainy, cool weather; they like it hot and dry. Oh well, it is what it is: climate change, aka global cooling, AlGoreBore, you shit-for-brains huckster! The harvest will just be a few weeks later-than-usual, at this rate. I'm still seeing some GHs selling various grades of sweet corn, saying that "it's not too late to plant". BS; it is.

I was taking a shower around 7pm on Monday evening, just finished soaping-up (soap in face; couldn't see) and down, and turned around into the shower spray, when I lost my balance and came down *hard* on the tub's railing with my right forearm and right-side chest. Luckily I didn't split my head open. No grab bars in the shower; I'm going to get that fixed ASAP. My right forearm had a huge black & blue bruise and my right hand was extremely painful. I could tell that there were no broken bones, but my r/s chest sure hurt when I coughed. I spent a lousy night in pain, thinking about going to the ER at the York Hospital, but decided against it. The pain was worse on Tuesday morning — by 6:45am, I wasn't even sure I could get my pants buttoned, zipped and belt on, with a damaged right forearm/hand — but I managed to make it into work, and get a cold-pak on it for the day. That helped immeasurably.

The history of TP? Right here. Heh.

Yes, I watched "Jericho" again, on Tuesday evening. I found several from Season 2 which I'd previously missed. Great shows!

My life is once again beginning to feel like "Groundhog Day", with no variation or fun left in it, anymore. Just the same repetition, day after week after month after year. I haven't had a vacation in 5+ years, nor taken two days off in a row, since I can't remember when. Yeah, I'll "snap out of it", soon.

I no more than got home around 5:45pm, fed the two condo cats, settled-in to work on the "Journal", and the power to the entire area went out for almost 55mins. I had 30-40 fat candles ready, and my SureFire Flashlight working to get me around the condo, until the power came back on.

Well, at least it wasn't an EMP.

Things Which Make Your Head Explode™..

Bringing that fat, ugly, snarling, racist, hate-Whitey, sweathog racist bitch pig, Michelle Obama-Lana-Ring-Ding-Dong-Bitch (SKANK-IL) to a commencement ceremony at UC Merced, or anywhere: $1mm+. Put the sambette bitch down a dark hole, IMO.

What do I *really think* of this bullshit "Mikey 'The Pedophile/ Child Molestor' Jack-scumbag Memorial Crap? ROT IN HELL, YOU LOWLIFE PERVERT FILTH! What a collection of subhumans, miscreants, lowlifes, pieces-of-shit, garbage, filth, trash, scum, dirtbags, groupies, hangers-on etc.

Michele Obama does not get paid to serve as the First Lady and she doesn’t perform any official duties. But this hasn't deterred her from hiring an unprecedented number of staffers to cater to her every whim and to satisfy her every request in the midst of the Great Recession. Fucking fat-assed, ugly, snarling, racist pig bitch!

From "melting pot" to "chamber pot" — instead of Handel, Vivaldi and Beethoven — to Mikey "Pedophile Pervert" Jackoff-scumbag's shit "music", aka *noise*? It was truly "noise looking for a category" for classification, IMO. Absolute f•cking crap! Want some class? How about Duke Ellington, John Coltrane or Jimi Hendrix? Mikey Jack-scum isn't even in the same stadium! Here's one guy who tells the truth about the Jackoff-scumbag POS.

If you believe that this lop-eared, white-trash little bitch is a product of Mikey Jackoff-scum's *sperm*, you're an idiot. All three of his bastard children, were just that: BASTARDS! Sperm donated by a White Guy, IMO. Read the articles, for yourself.

A fierce debate in the US Congress? Are you shitting me? The racist, pig-fucking Sheila Jack-scum Lee Bitch (SAMBETTE-TX) wants the pedophile pervert Mikey Jackoff-scumbag to be "honored"? Bullshit. Everyone ought to drink 1-2 sixpacks of beer, and PISS ON HIS GRAVE!

Ward Churchill, douchebag, hate-America, racist, pigf•cking fake indian piece-of-shit: go f•ck your mommie, injun punk boy! Die, subhuman faux-injun filth! A 230gr .45cal ACP in-the-head would suffice nicely, IMO.

According to the Akron Beacon Journal, "Dozens of black youths" shouted, "This is a black world," and, "This is our world," as they beat up a white construction worker, his family and friends as they were viewing a June 27 fireworks display. NO, YOU DUMBASS NIGGAS, THIS IS A *WHITE WORLD*. WE BUILT IT, YOU SUBHUMAN FILTH/ GARBAGE/ SHIT! Fuck with ***me*** and I'll shoot/kill you with my Kimber .45cal ACP! C'mon subhuman filthies! DIE!

Yes, the US Gov't caused this whole recession/depression; any questions? Barney Frank & Chris Dodd should be stood against a wall, and SHOT! They fucking caused it!

RIP, American Soldier, Our Real Heroes.

Watch this June 10th funeral procession of SSgt John Beale, US Army, and the tens-of-thousands living the streets, roads and highways, to pay their respects. Listen to the three accompanying songs. If you don't tear-up, as I did, something's wrong with you. Kleenex® alert!

Why no memorials to the US Soldiers killed in Afghanistan or Iraq, this past week? Why is Mikey Jackoff-scum being deified, and our Brave, US Military, ignored by the piece-of-shit MSM? F•ck the pedophile pervert Mikey Jackoff-scumbag! Rot & burn in hell, you filthy, subhuman, drug-addicted, son-of-a-bitch!

The deaths of US Military, in Iraq & Afghanistan, received 1/60th the amount of coverage v Mikey "Pedophile Pervert" Jackoff-scumbag, last week. Like that bullshit on CNN/PMSNBC/ABC/FOX, do you? I fucking don't and am letting my opinion be known, right now.

Some People Just Need Killing™.

It's not my intention to be the judge here — that's God's "job" — but rather to "hasten the meeting" so that He can send the following subhuman filth to the "Fires of Hell", "River or Lake of Sulphur", or whatever He deems appropriate. I'd gladly/happily volunteer, at no cost to any of my Hard-Working, Fellow US Taxpayers, to gladly/gleefully/happily headshoot these murderous, lowlife dirtbags of all stripes — their skin-color doesn't matter to me, at all — and rid American Society's innocents (especially our precious children and the frail, defenseless elderly) of them, once-and-for-all. And yes, I'd rather see one innocent man convicted and executed, than 10 murderers/robbers/child rapists-murderers freed, to rob, rape and murder again. Hey; call me an "Old Fashioned Conservative"! Too harsh? Nah. Just RIGHT, IMO!

Felix E. Montoya, needs summary trial/ killing for the 5-year-old girl he is accused of raping and trying to kill. He's an illegal with an expired green card. Head shoot him!

So does Frank Lombard, Associate director of Duke University's Center for Health Policy, and his despicable molestation of a 5-year old boy he adopted. Kill him after a summary trial. I volunteer for the head shot.




The 100 Sexiest Cars in the World.

Porsche has multiple beauties parked on the list. So does Ferrari. Aston Martin is well represented. Maserati has filled in spots. And thank the big auto maker in the sky that the '63 Chevy Corvette Stingray slipped in. (Hot!) We were expecting such a line-up of sleek and well-oiled wheels. But test drive this list from the auto enthusiasts at Top Gear and you will find more than one ride that surprises you. It's not the caravan of out-of-this-world racers that got us, or the motorcade of yore. It started with the presence of the "Pink Panther" Rover. Sexy? Huh? Then, the gleaming selection that steered into the top 10 left us reeling. Sure, some of these bad boys are oozing erotic appeal, but Sally Carrera? The Citroen C6? Of course, the list-makers expect this reaction: "Definitive? We doubt it. Debatable? Definitely. It's not what's cool, nor what's great. It's just a feeling you get..." Slip behind the wheel and let the feelings rip. Whooops, these are archived pages; go to the real working site.

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