If politics was a person, I'd like to set it on fire while laughing uncontrollably at the screams

I've said it before and I'll say it again: this is what happens when you sit down to watch the talking hairpieces.

But Randal, you say, that's a mighty good rant.

Indeed it is, but our esteemed ranter has likely cut 72.6 years off of her life by watching such overheated tripe. And if there's one thing you don't want to overheat, it's tripe. Really loses its flavor and then you're stuck compensating with too much Mrs. Dash.

Being one who is naturally cynical, I haven't come remotely close to embracing the inspirational, feel-good-campaignism of the Senator from Illinois. Just ain't my gig. Of course, being one who is naturally not inclined to overtly militaristic imperialism, the jackass from Arizona garners support in the negative. By default, I trust the average politician about as far as I can throw them, and I haven't been all that strong since I got off the flaxseed oil. Even pressing triangle, circle or square has become somewhat of a chore. The verbal smackdown by Barack Hussein X of Holy Joe, a truly contemptible and vile excuse of a homo sapien, was, however, quite enjoyable -- keep it up, young man, and you may yet win me over to indifference. Even more enjoyable was my (and other's) representative's on-the-floor crusade/jihad for impeachment that I know will end up going nowhere.

Yes, Lack O' Votes Brigade and the We Hate The Perfect Coalition, I understand your viewpoints, and even sympathize on rare occasions when I'm drunk or voting or voting while drunk. What I don't get are the 40-50% of Americans -- a greater amount than the crazy few still counting themselves as followers of Satan's puppet -- who don't support impeachment at all -- are you fucking blind, been living in a cave on Mars for eight years or merely passed out because of painful gastrointestinal problems caused by salmonella-infested tomatoes? Only $5/gallon gas truly boils your blood, the reasons for the price increase be damned? -- nor the cowardly and/or evil fucks of both parties that waste time in Congress investigating my fellow juicers or documentary filmmakers. (I dare not bother with the well-coiffed assholes at all; they're as helpful to the discourse as bovine spongiform encephalopathy is to good health) No, wait, I do understand them, as do you. All too well. But please, do not waste precious time defending either of these groups.


They don't deserve it, but we certainly deserve the government we have. A shame we cannot excise the 25 percenters from polite society like we aren't doing with the creators of this planned clusterfuck. I know that doesn't sound uniquely American. Big deal. I had no control over where I was born. If I had popped out in Gaza, I'd probably be a suicide bomber. If I had crawled into existence in France, I'd likely be topped by a beret (socialist, not raspberry) while writing bad existential poetry along the Seine.

Our outdated, two-party system doesn't work. Another uniquely unAmerican statement. I'd love to consistently vote third party, but unless you have a foolproof plan for a grand cultural shift, good fucking luck with those guys in any kind of national election. Folks like George Wallace, Ross Perot and Ralph Nader were the anomalies that proved the rule, and none of them had a legitimate shot at sitting in the Oval Office. Ever.

Oh, Randal, stop helping to prop up a broken system.

I will, when one of the major parties stops nominating candidates who count bombing, unfettered money worship and invasion of privacy instead of feathers, body oils and champagne three-ways as fetishes.

Look, we're a winner-take-all nation. Despite the lip service played to the underdog, America loves a champ; it's forced into our collective social DNA from birth. Don't believe me? How much Yankees and Red Sox paraphernalia do you see compared to the Brewers? Did you already forget the choking jingoism after 9/11? Shining city on a hill, hear us march on down to stomp you out of existence so we can steal your take our resources 'cause we're the greatest thing since the invention of the sandwich, motherfuckers.

I am legion, for we are many.

Everyone not the boss is quickly forgotten (unless you're the Buffalo Bills) because we're all trying to be the boss. There is a deeply ingrained expectation, and acceptance, of a bipolar world.

"My, what simplicity you have!"

"All the better to eat you with my dear!"

Yes/no, either/or, up/down, left/right, man/woman, red/blue, ketchup/mustard, good/bad, us/them. Nothing changes overnight save which B-movie you're watching on cable while sprawled out on the living room couch, bloated from too many bags of Funyuns.

Of course, this would all be solved if we had a parliamentary machine with a distinctly European flavor instead. Tell me you aren't salivating at the mere thought of bitching about an entirely different set of problems!



















Those marching suckers were pissed off over, not an obvious transformation into a full-fledged rogue nation, but beef. Beef. Too bad this would never happen here. Protest and survive? Bah.

In a few decades, humanity is going to look back and wonder what the fuck we were thinking by not kicking these lunatics out of office. Oaths just aren't what they used to be.

I wonder how psycho the next one will be.

And remember, if paranoia about losing the election had/has/will have you against it, fret not, mes amis. We can still lose, trials and DOC inmate numbers or not. Place faith in the American voter and affiliated electoral contraptions at your own peril. I will not be joining you. Unless you're buying. I warn you though, the green fairy is expensive.

"Fool me once, shame on you. You fool me, can't get fooled again."

Oh, but we can.

Crime does indeed pay, you and your predecessors proved that.

You didn't think I put that up there for shits and giggles, did you?

Speaking of crime -- boy, am I the Master of the Segue -- a comment by Divajood in the Miami Vice post from this past weekend got me thinking. Most album covers that should -- if there were any justice in the world, and we know there isn't -- be illegal are usually associated with equally repulsive music, regardless of genre. But, within your personal collection, are there any putrescent sleeves stealthily hiding exquisite music?

I'm not talking ones that call forth neither good nor bad feelings, ones that fail to conjure venomous hatred and loathing, but ones that are, frankly, embarrassing. Until you spin the disc. See, even the greats fuck up.

My choice: one of my all-time favorite albums, a completely underrated classic within the primordial metallic soup that was the 1970s that one wouldn't know merely by looking at the disco inferno duds worn by Messrs. Butler, Iommi, Osbourne and Ward. I blame the drugs.

















Top that.