Temper-tantrum Tyrant

I was speaking with a friend in Portland the other day, and while on the phone, his kid decided to throw a temper-tantrum, as kids his age (4) are often wont to do. I guess as a parent you're pretty immune to this, but for someone outside the interaction, it can be pretty frustrating.

I mention this because it's seems our Fuhrer, after getting bitch-slapped by Congress, decided to stamp his feet and whine and yell and generally act like a 4-year old, as he always does when people don't continuously fawn upon him.

Well, Mr. Bush, grow the fuck up, you namby-pamby wuss. You don't always get to do exactly what you want all the time, a lesson my parents taught me, strangely, when I was four years old. Seventy percent of Americans want our troops out of Iraq, and we went to the polls and elected people who said they would do that, and that's just what they are attempting to do. That's the way democracy works.

Frankly, Mr. Bush, given your record for shitty decision-making, your obstinacy just reinforces the beliefs of that 70-percent who are against you; and rendering you, in our minds, even more impotent than before. Although, speaking for myself, I've never had an ounce of respect for a man who could barely stumble through college; maybe if you'd paid more attention, America wouldn't be in the horrible state it is today.

So, go ahead and force your Constitutional Crisis, Mr. Bush. Sure, it'll go to the Supreme Court, and they'll rule in your favor. But, that will only strengthen most Americans beliefs in the unfairness of the system and decrease respect for the GOP. You're doing more to crush conservatism than I could accomplish in a million years.

Heck of a job, Bushie.

dumpster dive, PART ONE

Usually a dumpster is a dumpster, but there's one Downtown that is actually a time machine; a wormhole in space that occasionally boots up and sucks things into other dimensions. Well, I don't really know what happened- I was tossing a bag of trash into its greasy maw when a freaky green light appeared and...
I've been teleported to the year 2013, guys. The difficulties with posting back in time have been legion, I won't even get into that now... Anyway, I'm apparently trapped over here, been hanging around the dumpster hoping that wormhole manifests again . I don't like it here. Not so much.
First thing I noticed, crawling outta a nasty dumpster, was how hot it is. Scorching, stifling, the bottom of the Grand Canyon in June at Noon would be mild. So I fashioned myself a makeshift hat from 7 year-old tortilla boxes, and went a ' sauntering.
Please try to stay with me here, folks, as I'm still trying to cognate the sheer shock of this world. Okay, well, it's real damn hot. Next thing I noticed about Downtown Flagstaff in 2013 is, there is no pavement. That's right!- No concrete or asphalt- just grass. Downtown is a big field of grass!!! So, thusly, I have yet to observe a motorized vehicle in this time. The buldings are much the same, but with no windows, and they all have these very wierd reflective panels on the rooves. Grass and mirrors everywhere. Silence. Except for gusts of wind, so violent and terrible, don't really want to tell ya'll about it.
The sky is no longer blue. More like a puddle of moldy Heineken.
The windstorms of the future are so intense, that if you go outside during one, you die. They are a lot like our contemporary late summer rains(long gone), accompanied by thunder and lightning so daunting, even Nicolai Tesla would run for cover. The weather is so bad, only very skillfully engineered trees can live in this world. Sort of bonsai-like. No more pines. Plenty of grass.
So I'm standing there in the lush grass- what used to be a parking lot, when this low, mournful siren sounds somewhere (inclement wind warning) and I experience my first Gusting- flings me like a dog toy against what used to be a restaraunt/catering business. So much for the cardboard hat! I'm like the dude in the Maxell cassette tape commercial. Can't even move.
Twas during this nearly brain-shattering trauma that I encountered my first human being of 2013. A person wearing some white, diaphanous toga-like garment, with a rope about the waist, soared into the maelstrom , grabbed me, and whisked me somewhere sheltered.
It was a woman. Young and rather pretty, despite her thorough(and I thought, almost Arabic) white raiment. My first conversation with a Flagstaff denizen of 2013 went something like this...
"Salaam Alikum, muthafucka. You look watered, praise Google, by Allahjesu."
"Thanks" I tell her, as I get my wind back, and suddenly her eyes widen with astonishment. She is staring at my crotch.
"Oh my Allahjesu! You are a man!
Yep.
But men do not exist anymore! You are the first I've seen in five years! " About now I notice she's actually quite hot, despite the unusual purple/silver eyes, there's a glint of intellegence in them, curiosity in the way she cocks her head of auburn tresses , mellifluousness and poise in her voice. "My name is Zymurgian", I offer. She wears some kind of i pod-ish thing on a hemp necklace. She clutches it, clearly nervous.
"I am Jenisalomefer, of the 19th gigawater clan. We gotta get the fuck outta here now, amigo. The Water-Plunder-Hordes always follow the Gustings. " With that, she starts pressing buttons on whatever that i pod thing is , and suddenly we're somewhere else.
(To be continued. Really)

'

BOCA RATON - Retired Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan, speaking at a Futures Industry Association annual conference here on Thursday, said the problems of the subprime mortgage market had more to do with home prices than easy credit.

"If we could wave a wand and housing prices go up 10 percent, the subprime mortgage problem would disappear," he said.

Well yeah, Al, and if I could wave a magic wand at my prick, I'd be one of the busiest, most-sought-after porn stars in the industry today. But wishes don't change reality.

Alan, you're just trying to salvage your reputation, which is going to drop down the toilet as the housing industry tanks, taking along construction, various other amounts of businesses that have grown to support the housing boom, and, if we're lucky, will just stop there. As it is, more and more economists are beginning to admit that we're going to have a recession; the only difference of opinion is whether said recession will be soft and short or longer and harsher. FWIW, as a pragmatic sort, I'm guessing it'll probably be extraordinarily harsh.

It's this kind of foolish optimism that got us where we are now; Greenspan encouraged these shitty loan practices during the whole of his last six years, in order to help ameliorate a ravaged dot-com tech-bubble burst and as a way to pull the economy along.

Now, I rent, but have owned and would contemplate buying here if I even ever thought I could afford a home here (the answer is no, unless my mother dies and leaves me piles of cash). Granted, I might just possibly be able to afford if I was willing to move somewhere more affordable, commute 50 miles round trip daily, and other sorts of things that I'm unwilling to do. I like walking to work, or riding my bike. I like that I can (realistically) get everywhere I want to go on foot (or by bike) in 5-10 minutes max. And, I especially like the savings in gas prices.

But, just like many places around the country, around here median annual income here is $54,200 and median house price is $315,750. Not good odds, and soon to get worse for many, many current home buyers and wanna-be home buyers.

I'm not looking forward to this coming recession. I think it will hurt many, many more people than it should (myself and my friends included), through higher prices for everything, and, as of today, with the OPEC ministers meeting turning out just so-so, it looks like gas will spiral again to $3 by late April/early May.

I don't look forward to $2.50 heads of lettuce.

teddybear reveries...

They say, as a result of global warming, that in like 20 years, polar bears will only exist in zoos.
Thank God! Do you have any idea what a polar bear would do to you? You thoroughly piss yer pants while he charges. Then, he flays yer face into a pulp with one casual swipe of his massive, razor-sharp claws, glinting blindingly in the arctic glare. Next, that cuddly polar bear is going to pin you down with his thousand lbs of primordial girth, and relieve you of yer jugular vein, with his impressive fangs. Ursus maritimus may even take his time devouring you, as you lay twitching, screaming , alone, hapless, on an ice floe, - you are probably a more satisfying kill than a polar bear's typical diet of seals.
So when polar bears finally, inevitably, become extinct, (because you just had to drive yer car today) we can all safely venture to the Arctic, and saunter about, with no fear of predation. Isn't global warming awesome?!

what's for lunch?

What I do for "frogskin"- an Iroquois term for money (yeah- i know i've brought this up before, just such a great term) is prepare food for people too frackin lazy or stupid to make their own lunch. I am not a souschef, nor still of shortorder rank. I consider myself, simply, a "culinarian" with my frogskin endeavors these days.
I have also been a trapeeze artist, squirrel groomer, Melville scholar, whalebone corset inspector, (dear reader you are now obliged to take another sip of your glass of madeira on that segueway) manufacturer of anti-war blimp detonators, connoiseur of rare Englebert Humperdinck recordings, Sasquatch tracker, and I once managed a lint factory, before that gig where i recycled Las Vegas plastic visor hats into park benches. Lo!- the list goes on and on, friend.
Today's special, at the ole' mall kiosk, of which i am Vice-CEO, was a dead rat in a tortilla, with bernaise, pomegranate coulis and thrice-wilted radiccio. Sold so well i could hardly keep up with the demand! I got personal complements from my patrons, like, "I didn't know a rat burro could be so darn delectable!"
Ha!Ha! Avast! Our political watchdog is away on a river trip. Someone's gotta push this wheelbarrow while he's gone, and I, folks, am a little cracked.

maestro wit

Richard Thompson, one of my favorite musicians, had this to say, tuning his guitar between songs, during an awe-inspiring performance I attended last week-

"What is the difference between Heaven and Hell? Well, in Heaven, the English greet you, the French cook, the Italians are the entertainers, and the Germans organize everything. In Hell... The French greet you, the English cook, Italians organize everything, and the Germans entertain. "

Four Years

Four years ago, Shrub decided to play shock and awe on Iraq. I was safely hidden on a boat on the San Juan river, unable to watch the news. Today, as I prepare to return to the river, I'm still pretty much unable to watch the news. My anger is barely under control, but I have no outlet. The war goes on, the blood is real.

So I'll go hide in the wilderness. See y'all in six days.

I'm a lucky man

I got invited to go boating on the San Juan for the next six days. Hope that Zymurgian and Sweaterman will keep some posts up. See Y'all next week.

back to leave

Nice trip on the Salt River. Here's some pics:

Now I have to get ready for a real trip. I'll explain later.