Friday, October 30, 2009

wtf?!? seriously?!?

the following are copy/paste lines taken directly from an email (the third) i have just received from these jokers:

The national, cross-country tour titled, Tea Party Express II: Countdown to Judgment Day (www.TeaPartyExpress.org) is rolling into Washington State to host Tea Parties. ...will hold rallies that seek to educate, entertain, and encourage patriotic Americans who are concerned about the quasi-socialistic policies being pushed by the Obama/Pelosi/Reid administration.

The Tea Party Express II caravan features two 44-foot coaches along with a group of several support vehicles,...part of a national tour that will span 19 days, 38 cities, and cover more than 7,000 miles.

The Tea Party Express is advocating for less government spending, an end to the bailouts, lower taxes, opposition to government-run healthcare and opposition to the growth in the size and intrusiveness of government in general.

they also wouldn't mind it much if you n i cared to make a charitable donation to such a worthy cause. i wonder how much it costs to drive two specially-painted coaches all over hell and gone? and i wonder what exactly these tea party lunatics are actually proposing by way of lessening government intrusiveness? are they coming up with any alternative ideas to the government health plan? do they understand that the bailouts started with dubya, not obama? why wasn't anyone driving tour buses around when dubya's administration was proposing the "patriot act" that would basically invade anyone's privacy and arrest individuals based on books they checked out of the library, or searches they did on google? did they not figure that the government was being intrusive in that case? they don't seem to realize that staging a moving "patriotic" carnival that will eat up countless dollars in gas and maintenance, not to mention the initial cost of two 44-foot coaches and the support vehicles, conservative speakers and singers, etc etc etc. and blowing all this dough on an extravagant tour is easily the best way to tell us that government spending is out of control, taxes are way too high, and the government is growing and taking over our lives. i might also recommend we watch these motherfuckers cause this has all the makings of a well-scheduled recruitment for a bloody revolution.

i wonder if hitler and lenin had 44-foot coaches?

darth sardonic

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Tuesday, October 27, 2009

part of a mid-term...

in communications i class we had to write a couple short essays in class as our mid-term. i present to you, in conjunction with the last post (go quick and read it now) one half of my comm i mid-term:

the boy is about 7, lithe, with dusky skin. his earnest eyes hide behind lopsided glasses that match his lopsided grin.

he is excited as he watches his older brother play video games, and emits noises that are the sonic equivalent of shards of broken glass in my brain pan.

this skinny boy with the overdeveloped musculature used to fit in the palms of both my upturned hands like water scooped from a stream.

"daddy! daddy! loo' what [no. 1] is doon, daddy!"

"i see, buddy."

for reasons beyond my ken, he needs this constant reassurance; this sense of belonging. perhaps it stems from the four months he spent lying in hospital beds with only limited physical contact, most of which was to change iv's and bandages.

he sprawled there like a baby doll-cum-mad-scientist's experiment, tubes and monitors and gadgets encroaching upon his existence like the villain of bad 50's sci-fi movies.

and life was a nightmare for each member of his little close-knit family for these hellish four months.

you would never guess it today, however, from his ear-piercing sound-effects and the enthusiastic way he jumps up and down, his eyes intent on the screen as if he was the one playing the game.

you would never know he was dead for a full minute, flatlining like the special guest star's character at the end of an "er" episode while a battery of nurses scrambled for narcan, paddles, the crash cart.

you might guess something is not quite right from the delayed speech patterns; the way it takes him a little longer to formulate a sentence.

but, after observing his energy, his joy, and his zest for life as he dances from one foot to another and waves his arms over his head like a lottery winner, you would never be tempted to call him "dumb" or "stupid" or even "retarded."

and you would never guess he started off life being nothing more than a double-handful of his own mother and father's heart.

darth sardonic

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Sunday, October 25, 2009

student of the month

the trick is not thinking about what we have been through to get to this point. the trick is to keep my arm around him and beam proudly and be wholly immersed in the moment. because if i think about the hospital, the tubes and machines, the appointments and doctors, the therapies, the first year of kindergarten, i will tear up in the middle of the auditorium and i will be unable to disguise the fact that i am crying, and then he will ask, "whazmadder daddy? why you cryin?" and i will sob even more, and i would really prefer to maintain my composure amongst all these teachers and students and their parents.

no. 2 received student of the month for september.

darth sardonic

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Thursday, October 15, 2009

smile scream always so extreme

man, o my beloved non-existent readers, my droogs n only friends, i have decided: a.) i am a shitty poster, and b.) i am a lousy fucking friend.

gringa, i finally got your link fixed.

i just finished up mid-terms, in which i had four essays, ten drawings, and two tests all due within the scope of a week.

and i have been feeling pretty selfish lately i guess. hording my free time and wanting to spend it doing only the things i want to do. and of course, the creative energy i would normally spend coming up with witty posts is instead being channeled into all these essays and such in the hallowed and hollowed halls of higher learning. (say that ten times fast.)

but i do have this for you:

we have long held in my household that if you want to hide something from my view, simply place it on a shelf behind something else. i will never find it. i am sure all of you, the beloveds, are snickering because you know some other male who finds himself in this self-same category.

well, the other day i am looking for the last rock glass that hasn't been left in a drunken haze at one of the neighbors' houses, i look in the cupboard, the dishwasher, the sink, the side table by the couch; marred with moisture ring scars the exact size of the bottom of said rock glass: to no avail.

suffice to say, o my beloveds, i am kinda aggravated. it's been one of those days. i want a goddamn drink. where the sweet cherry fuckstain is my glass...?

"it's in the cabinet with the rest of the glasses." my wife is sooo helpful.

"it is not! i looked there, twice!!" i spout, all piss n vinegar as i yank open the cupboard for the third time and--

"well fuck me gently with a chainsaw! why'd you put it on this side of the small juice glasses?"

(an aside: what the hell purpose do the small juice glasses really serve? i mean, does anyone still make a "well-balanced breakfast" replete with cheerios, toast and jam, a large glass of milk, and the apparently quintessential juice glass of oj? they are sorta the right size for a gibson i have noticed though, as long as you don't make it a double... now back to your regularly-scheduled program.)

"are you serious? you couldn't find it because it was on the other side of the juice glasses?!?"

i take a deep, steadying breath, and let it out in a prolonged sigh of surrender.

"let me see if i can attempt to explain the phenomenon of my inability to find things in pantries and on shelves to you, once and for all:"

she is already starting to giggle at me. which of course, makes me want to pour on the theatrics.

"let's say you tell me to get the medicine." i say, holding up one of the boys' prescription bottles, "and this is what i see in my head. an rx bottle. but let's just say the medicine actually looks like this:" holding up a blister-pack of gas-x.

"i will look thither n yon. my eyes will pass over this little packet of pills a million times without ever registering them, because i am looking for a bottle."

the giggles are full-on laughs.

"furthermore, if i think the object i am looking for is red, and it is actually blue, same thing, it's like it doesn't even exist."

the laughs are tears and are bordering on snorts, and by christ, o my beloved non-existents, i am hell-bent for a series of snorts.

"but the biggest way to confuse me is to put something slightly out of place from where it should be. if i know it is in a certain spot, then i won't be looking for it anywhere else, even if that is on the left side of the juice glasses instead of the right. since they are glasses, and it's a glass, it was completely invisible to my eyes."

i get the crescendo of laugh-snort-laugh that i so desperately needed at this point, and smile myself as i fix an old fashioned in my newly rediscovered rocks glass.

darth sardonic

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