Random acts of senseless posting

Normally, unless I was unwittingly exposed to biological weapons of mass destruction -- a mathematical impossibility given the layers of Billy Mays' Mighty Putty® sealing up all windows and doorways chez Randal -- is anyone else feeling lightheaded? -- or lysergic acid diethylamide in my drink or tetrahydrocannabinol in my brownies -- there's my stash! You have no idea how long I've been looking for it -- I would never post anything about anyone intimately associated or loosely affiliated with The Fucking Yankees unless it was to cast an unyielding torrent of scorn in their general direction, but this bit about now-retired Fucking Yankee Mike Mussina is the exception.

No, not for anything he did, is doing or will do, but for what's mentioned near the bottom: has there ever been a better team name than the Oakland Dudes?











"Walter, he peed on my mitt!"

Being a card-carrying member of the International Brotherhood of Misogynistic Piggery and Piano Tuners, Local No. 103175, I'm quite tearful that I'm at work instead of at home getting ready to watch this. Sigh.


















"Go work on you paper about the cheese-eating surrender monkeys, dear.
I'll be home soon enough."

Thanks, babe. Smooches. At least I'm gaining votes!












"I'm the one that's good enough and smart enough, asshole."

I've been trying to come up with a fourth item, but then realized the best things in life always come in threes: triple plays, three-ring circuses, third eyes, Triple Ententes, triple cheesburgers, menages à trois.

"Keep dreaming."

I do, brain, I do. Okay, here we go: how come all you young people rapidly going deaf with your iPods jammed up to eleven have the worst fucking taste in music?

"You're one to talk, Mr. Satan Murder Death Mayhem."

But at least I don't drop passes on Sunday.

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"











Sassafras tea, silly string and shotgun blasts, stupid. It's bad enough that Hussein named closet lesbian, murderer and soap opera starlet Hillary to his cabinet, now he's thinking about an openly gay chick. Super Magical Jesus Baby must be rolling over in his crib. Spin the Tito the Builder mobile to shut his ass up, will ya?

Oh, and Pantone? Go fuck yourself. That's all the world needs. More blissfully happy people.

"Isn't this shit supposed to make you mellow?"

Totally tubular!

And you all scoffed at convicted felon --
















"NO! I still have all my appeals!"

-- damn right you do! Go, you separatist Alaskans, go! And after your good name is cleared, we'll all rejoice. Now that's a country I wanna live in, the United States of Stevens. Wait, we'd have to replace all the logos of the military-industrial-entertainment complex. How about the United Stevens of America? God Bless Stevens!

Anyway, my tubes were tied yesterday and because they weren't working from dawn to dusk, and I, as a general rule, tend to refuse to watch the talking hairpiece brigade on my days off, I watched instead some light British comedy. And given the results of yesterday's election, I'm more convinced than ever that if I had been able to post, the following sonnet -- I use the term loosely -- completed Monday evening, would've been enough to launch the one true candidate over the top, far beyond both McFossil and Socialist Barack Hussein X.

Some demand we all vote for dead commies.
I know folks planning to cast a line for Nader;
still others wanna vote for their mommies --
hey, it's Palin, you gooper masturbator!























Soon the shit will stop for a short, brief, miniscule moment --
here's our chance! pass the berry Metamucil!
Yippee, the Return of the Perpetual Advertisement.
Oh sure, there's the brother or the fossil;


















the former an imperialist, the latter insane.
I'm sure some porn star is running, if that's your gig.
As for me, there's really only one campaign
worth a damn and we don't ever deign to rig.












So pull the lever for Diva or she'll fuck your shit up
so bad you'll be stuck the rest of your days peeing in a cup.

I was further dismayed on the generally half brother, half cracker bus this morning. Aside from not seeing any rioting outside -- don't let the police chiefs of Murka fool you. Win or lose, they riot, you know what I mean, wink wink, nudge nudge -- all those followers of Farrakhan looked the same way they do every morning with their dour masks of despair, knowing full well that another day of toiling for The Man awaits them.

Why are you sad? You all run the world now! You can't fool me, I saw that glimmer of mischievous hope in the corner of your eyes as you prepare to enact Hussein's cracker roundup plan for enslavement and socialist reedumacation in the ways of the Koran.

Full Disclosure®

"Yasser, my main man! How've you been?"
"Oh, being dead takes all of my time. It's a bitch."
"Laugh, chuckle, at least you don't have ring around the collar!"
"Chortle, wheeze! Say, where's Randal?"
"Shit! I forgot to send him the invite!"

My fellow Americans, my friends, the Most Important Election In Our Lifetime® is taking place next Tuesday. In case you've forgotten, and I know you haven't, here's our platform, so much better than the stale collections of empty promises of all those other jokers, no?

Because of this Important Moment In History®, I felt it only right to be honest with you, the hard-working men and women of Real America®.

Tonight, I had dinner with a man -- and I use the term loosely, the sick, traitorous bastard -- who dares criticize Things Most Sacred®.

"You're at work. You had dinner with yourself. Ramen noodles."

Technically, I didn't lie.

"Technically, you're an asshole."

True.

"Among other things, Israel was described there as the perpetrator of terrorism rather than the victim," Palin said at a rally in Ohio. "What we don't know is how Randal Graves responded to these slurs on a country that he professes to support."

I've also described another country I profess to support as a perpetrator of terrorism. I'm too embarassed to say which one, but I will give you a hint: it starts with Real and ends with America®.

I'm hanging my head in shame as I type this.

Of course those are Real Tears®.

"If there was a tape of John McCain in a neo-Nazi outfit, I think the treatment of the issue would be slightly different," McCain said in an interview with Hispanic radio stations.

He'd no doubt garner rave reviews.























Hey, I don't have photoshop. Use your imagination.

Joe the Plumber and the Curious Georgian

"Oh, if only Barack Hussein X hadn't stolen all my money and gave it to ACORN, I'd have a successful small business!"

*gasp*

"Curious Georgian!"













"My friends, we are all still Georgians!"


















"Curious Georgian, can you help me with my small business?"













"My friends, when I was being a maverick --















-- just look at my record of bipartisanship -- Barack Hussein Osama was plotting Afrocentristical brainwashing in William Ayers' living room."


















"Damn, where's Barry and Billy? We've got to start indoctrinating!"


















"I bet he doesn't know anything about Colombia, either!"


















"He's never even been south of the border!"













"Curious Georgian, what the hell are you talking about?"


















"I bet he doesn't even know how to use a plunger!"














"This is what the American people think of your plumbing policy, Barack Hussein X!"

Randal's Comely Cotillion of Unpleasant Crackery and Angry Brotherhood

I told you there'd be a fancy shindig this week. Now let us present ourselves to society with our swankiest finery and drollery that is also so very, um, fine.


















"Fine like the grains ona mirr, heh heh!"

Oh, the first one of you who fails to swear gets permanently banned.













"I will FUCK shit up!"


















"That one is so uppity. I will fuck SHIT up! Like a damn hell ass king!"

Remember kids, I'm at work, so you'll have to do the toking and drinking for me. And if Schieffer asks McPOW a Dukakis -- as likely as me being voted Most Handsome Blogger -- you have to drink the entire bottle.

And don't lie to me, I've got your dwelling bugged.

City of Lipsticky Love

"We're going to puck it up like we do in Alaska!"


















"First forecheck gets a beer."

My friends

Oh, my head. I really picked the wrong phrase to drink on. Frankly, this particular bastardization of a pseudo-town hall style faux debate wasn't as electrifying as last week mainly because --

wait, what is this that stands before me?


















Oh, nooooooooo! It is alive!














"Don't mind me, Senator, just taking the necessary precautions."


















"Shit, was Reagan my hero? Or Teddy? No, it was Hoover. He knew how to have a cool hand at the tiller."













"I don't care that you both want followups. I'm the leader here, I'm important, me, me, me!"












"My friends, for five and half years I couldn't do the robot. "












"We need a commission on Cold Wars to do the things that are necessary. We will bring the troops home with honor after their victory against Medicare."


















"My friends, bomb Iran, I was only joking with a fellow veteran. Like this one time, ho yes, there was this woman who walked into a bar and a gorilla raped her, ho yes."












"My friends, bargle fargle Russians Georgias wingle dingle Taliban Osama man oingo boingo -- look! A gold-plated Cadillac earmark!"














"My friends, do you really want to vote for a terrorist-lov -- oh, shit, this isn't a Republican audience. Hey, where's the bathroom?"

A formidable adversary

page 1

Hon. DivaJood, Diva, boss of artistry and future president, prime minister, premier, quarterback, starting pitcher, point guard and philosopher-queen of North America:

Based on detailed field work, accumulation of cursory glances and bits and pieces of anecdotal evidence, I had thought we were making inroads in the battleground state of Ohio. This may indeed still be the case. However, something disturbing, filthy and also dirty has come to my attention.

Merely through the time-tested technique of observation, I observed, observationally, the following count of political signs on my street which, coincidentally I observed, resides in the battleground state of Ohio:

four for Obama/Biden
three for McCain/Palin
zero for Zaius/Gregarious
eight for For/Sale

Frankly, I'm both flummoxed and flabbergasted. What do we know about this For or even this Sale? The fact that they more than double the combined presence of both major parties combined in combination frightens and fraternizes me in a way that I am uncomfortable with.

No doubt capitalizing on the sorry state of the economy, these mother --

[18-page gap]

page 20

-- fuckers. Anyway, you will find a photocopied facsimile xerox of the evidence below.






















I will set up a strategic meeting to discuss tactics in dealing with this new campaign, no doubt a duo comprising the telegenic minions of a Manchurian variety conjured up during a grotesquely pornographic three-way between our political enemies, all of whom are well-versed and blindingly aware of how welcome our welcoming message of strawberries, cream, peace, slashing the living hell out of the military budget and a comprehensive program of groovaliciousness is to the American electorate desperate for real solutions to problems that are real but we all wish were figments of some bad C-grade horror movie. I welcome your input.

Watching the skies,

Randal Graves
Campaign Manager, Diva/Nunly '08

Yeah, Ohio isn't a huge, energy-producing state. What's it to you?

That may be true, but we did get a cool graph that shows whether Ohio's uncommitted voters are on life support or not. Do you have one, you moosehunting bastards? Didn't think so.














Go, Buckeye State, Go! You can make it! I believe in you!

After much careful and considerate consideration, I decided to do a shot each time that Palin said "maverick," "reform," "experience" or "Alaska." I also decided to do a shot each time that Biden angrily pointed. Why? 'cause I'm fucking bipartisan you assholes.

Since I didn't have any whiskey in the house, shots were out of the question and so I had to switch to swigs of wine. Sure, one would obviously rather savor the rich, fruity yet earthy tang instead of chugging it like someone who just found out their 401k is empty because of Congressional and Wall Street fuckery and is scanning the neighborhood for the swankiest cardboard box they can afford, but desperate times call for desperate measures; it's a hard life and that demands hard drinking.

Needless to say, I had a pretty good buzz going on after the first 147 seconds -- Sarah, I might have been wrong about you, after all. You can drive me to drink nearly as fast as any other name Republican out there, and bonus points for all the "gosh darnits" -- so any recollections of what was actually said, well, I'm trying to say that my memory might be a bit fuzzy, but I believe that this is what occurred.

I apologize in advance for any factual errors, but rest assured that I carry with me, if not the facts themselves, the spirit of the facts, kind of like an apparition or a ghost. Or maybe a poltergeist since I think I knocked a bunch of books onto the floor on the way to the bedroom.

Oooooh, spooky! Hey, it's Halloween season and what's more frightening than an American presidential campaign?


















"Gwen, what happened?"
"Oh, I promised a bunch of large, white men that I'd say I tripped and fell."














"Thanks for not checking out my ass."
"Governor, I've been in the Senate for over 30 years and I've learned a few tricks of the trade. Who says I haven't?"



















"So, Gwen, any chance for a rape kit question?"
"No, but I might mention the Bankruptcy Bill."














"Yes, the Bankruptcy Bill, um, hum, yes, er, well, you see, hey! did you know that John McCain is not a maverick? Whew, that was close."


















"John McCain is a huge, energy-producing reformer and I'm proud to maverick Main Street because Alaska is the central front in the war on the terrible heartland of which I am familiar because Iraq is where bin Laden lives, we will win! Was that ninety seconds? See, told you suckers I can debate."


















"You say I keep on with the backwards finger pointing? Fine, how's this, governor? I'll poke your goddamn eyes out."


















"Go ahead and try, I've got my list of talking points right, oh shit! Where did it go?"













"Gwen, as one woman to another, I'd like to thank you first, for not getting too upset when I decided to not answer any of your questions, which is a God-given freedom in this great land and, secondly, for not asking me about my views about anything too controversial. Wink, nudge."


















"Governor, you're just lucky the American people are stupid and would rather hear faux folksy charm instead of icky things."
"Takes one to know one."
"I know you are. But what am I?"