Thursday, December 15, 2005
Heh.
"Operation Kringle Kill": The blog of one of the soldiers currently engaged in fighting the War on Christmas.
A Dark Planet
My good friend David Terrenoire joins the ranks of blogdom (aka people who waste time rambling on the Internet when they really should be writing) with his blog, entitled A Dark Planet. Welcome to the blogosphere, David!
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Christmas in Crawford
Latest Radical Islamist Newspaper Column
One of the great traditions of Christmas is, of course, the Christmas card. Some folks prefer, in lieu of a card, to write everybody a long chatty letter telling folks how the year has gone. Even some of the world’s most famous people indulge themselves this way.
Here, courtesy of your Humble Columnist, is one example of just such a letter:
Christmas Greetings from Crawford!
We’re having a quiet Christmas in Crawford this year. Just a few friends. Very few. Actually, just Karl and Dick. They insisted on that. And it was their idea to ban all TV, radio and newspapers from the house. They call it the Christmas Bubble. Isn’t that cute? And it’s done wonders for George’s mood. We’re so lucky to have Karl and Dick to keep his spirits high.
Wow, what a year it’s been! Things started off really well, what with the fun and excitement of our second inaugural celebration back in January. We had a lot to look forward to, what with George winning that huge mandate and amassing all that political capital. And boy, did he spend it!
We’ve got so much to show for it, too. Take Social Security reform. … OK, bad example. Well, seniors got that Medicare prescription drug benefit. I hear one or two of them can actually understand it, which is more than I can say for George! Ha-ha!
Of course, no year is without its setbacks. I’m sure you all heard about Scooter’s little trouble with the law. But Dick tells us that it’s going to turn out fine and that Scooter will be totally exonerated. His exact words were that the prosecution was in its “last throes.” Funny, I seem to remember hearing that before somewhere, but I can’t remember exactly where.
Speaking of trouble with the law, our friend Tom got some great news the other day. The judge threw out one of the three charges against him. George called him up to congratulate him on his big win. “That’s half the case!” he said. (George is so funny when he tries to do math.) Tom seems pretty sure that he’ll be acquitted. Of course, he said the same thing about Duke Cunningham, but I’m sure this time he’s right.
Another good friend who faced hard times this year was poor Brownie. Who knew that when he was appointed head of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, he’d end up actually having to manage an emergency? I mean, is that bad luck, or what?
But Brownie being Brownie, he’s managed to hold on to his sense of humor. I heard he was going around telling people, get this — that his next venture was going to be setting himself up as a consultant on disaster preparedness! Isn’t that a scream?
Harriet’s back at work and seems pretty happy, even though she’s obviously disappointed after having to withdraw her nomination for the Supreme Court. I really think people were unfair to Harriet. I mean, so what if she had no experience and was completely unqualified? It’s not like we were sending her there to actually think about complicated legal stuff! We were sending her there to watch George’s back! I mean, what part of “crony” do these people not understand?
Unfortunately, even at this happy holiday season, some people just have to be nasty ol’ Grinches. Like that silly Sheehan woman, going on and on and on about her dead son, and how she doesn’t like the war and blah blah blah. I wish she’d just get over it, you know? I mean, a lot of people have lost someone in this war. No one we know personally, of course, but I’ve read about them.
And that John McCain! I’m so mad at him I could just spit! How dare he propose a law that says George can’t order that people be tortured! Not that we actually do torture people, of course. Oh, sure, we may strap people to a board, put a cloth over their face and pour water on the cloth so they think they’re drowning, but Rummy tells me that that’s just, you know, horseplay.
Besides, George explained to me, we don’t torture people, because torture is illegal. We only do things that are legal, so if we do it, it’s not illegal, therefore, it’s not torture. You see why I love this man? Anyway, John McCain should just shut his big mouth. After all, what does he know about torture?
Whew! I seem to have gotten a wee bit out of the Christmas spirit for a moment there, didn’t I? Sorry about that. But don’t worry about me! A few dozen Xanax and I’ll be my cheery holiday self again!
Anyway, I’ve got to run. The twins will be home for the holidays any minute now, so I’ve got to make sure all the liquor’s safely locked away. And George’s mother will be here, so I better down a few more of those Xanax.
Hugs, Laura.
One of the great traditions of Christmas is, of course, the Christmas card. Some folks prefer, in lieu of a card, to write everybody a long chatty letter telling folks how the year has gone. Even some of the world’s most famous people indulge themselves this way.
Here, courtesy of your Humble Columnist, is one example of just such a letter:
Christmas Greetings from Crawford!
We’re having a quiet Christmas in Crawford this year. Just a few friends. Very few. Actually, just Karl and Dick. They insisted on that. And it was their idea to ban all TV, radio and newspapers from the house. They call it the Christmas Bubble. Isn’t that cute? And it’s done wonders for George’s mood. We’re so lucky to have Karl and Dick to keep his spirits high.
Wow, what a year it’s been! Things started off really well, what with the fun and excitement of our second inaugural celebration back in January. We had a lot to look forward to, what with George winning that huge mandate and amassing all that political capital. And boy, did he spend it!
We’ve got so much to show for it, too. Take Social Security reform. … OK, bad example. Well, seniors got that Medicare prescription drug benefit. I hear one or two of them can actually understand it, which is more than I can say for George! Ha-ha!
Of course, no year is without its setbacks. I’m sure you all heard about Scooter’s little trouble with the law. But Dick tells us that it’s going to turn out fine and that Scooter will be totally exonerated. His exact words were that the prosecution was in its “last throes.” Funny, I seem to remember hearing that before somewhere, but I can’t remember exactly where.
Speaking of trouble with the law, our friend Tom got some great news the other day. The judge threw out one of the three charges against him. George called him up to congratulate him on his big win. “That’s half the case!” he said. (George is so funny when he tries to do math.) Tom seems pretty sure that he’ll be acquitted. Of course, he said the same thing about Duke Cunningham, but I’m sure this time he’s right.
Another good friend who faced hard times this year was poor Brownie. Who knew that when he was appointed head of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, he’d end up actually having to manage an emergency? I mean, is that bad luck, or what?
But Brownie being Brownie, he’s managed to hold on to his sense of humor. I heard he was going around telling people, get this — that his next venture was going to be setting himself up as a consultant on disaster preparedness! Isn’t that a scream?
Harriet’s back at work and seems pretty happy, even though she’s obviously disappointed after having to withdraw her nomination for the Supreme Court. I really think people were unfair to Harriet. I mean, so what if she had no experience and was completely unqualified? It’s not like we were sending her there to actually think about complicated legal stuff! We were sending her there to watch George’s back! I mean, what part of “crony” do these people not understand?
Unfortunately, even at this happy holiday season, some people just have to be nasty ol’ Grinches. Like that silly Sheehan woman, going on and on and on about her dead son, and how she doesn’t like the war and blah blah blah. I wish she’d just get over it, you know? I mean, a lot of people have lost someone in this war. No one we know personally, of course, but I’ve read about them.
And that John McCain! I’m so mad at him I could just spit! How dare he propose a law that says George can’t order that people be tortured! Not that we actually do torture people, of course. Oh, sure, we may strap people to a board, put a cloth over their face and pour water on the cloth so they think they’re drowning, but Rummy tells me that that’s just, you know, horseplay.
Besides, George explained to me, we don’t torture people, because torture is illegal. We only do things that are legal, so if we do it, it’s not illegal, therefore, it’s not torture. You see why I love this man? Anyway, John McCain should just shut his big mouth. After all, what does he know about torture?
Whew! I seem to have gotten a wee bit out of the Christmas spirit for a moment there, didn’t I? Sorry about that. But don’t worry about me! A few dozen Xanax and I’ll be my cheery holiday self again!
Anyway, I’ve got to run. The twins will be home for the holidays any minute now, so I’ve got to make sure all the liquor’s safely locked away. And George’s mother will be here, so I better down a few more of those Xanax.
Hugs, Laura.
Arguing With The Voices In Their Heads
In today's edition of the Pilot, Martin Samchalk of Pinehurst uses an updated version of Dickens to explain how I'm really a radical Islamist:
Next, the Ghost of Holiday Future takes Dusty into the future when his heroes, John Kerry, Ted Kennedy and Hillary have surrendered the country to al Qaeda. The state religion is Islam and there is no more Christmas to fret about. In fact there is no more Constitution, no Supreme Court to interpret the Constitution and no more Congress to make laws. We all live under Islamic law.
Finally, the Ghost of Holiday Present shows Dusty how he is helping to bring about future holidays under Islamic law, by repeating lies against President Bush and the Iraq war....
In Dusty’s dream he lives and is learning Islamic law in Carthage.
Heh. Now who can argue with that?
Next, the Ghost of Holiday Future takes Dusty into the future when his heroes, John Kerry, Ted Kennedy and Hillary have surrendered the country to al Qaeda. The state religion is Islam and there is no more Christmas to fret about. In fact there is no more Constitution, no Supreme Court to interpret the Constitution and no more Congress to make laws. We all live under Islamic law.
Finally, the Ghost of Holiday Present shows Dusty how he is helping to bring about future holidays under Islamic law, by repeating lies against President Bush and the Iraq war....
In Dusty’s dream he lives and is learning Islamic law in Carthage.
Heh. Now who can argue with that?
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Richard Pryor, R.I.P..
Digby, over at his blog, has a passage in his requiem for Pryor that sums it up better than I ever could. He describes going to a Pryor show at age 18:
I looked around me in that theatre that night, in which I and my little friend Kathy were among a fair minority of whites, and I realized that we were all laughing uproariously together at this shocking, dirty, racially charged stuff. As someone who grew up in a racist household (and had always had a visceral reaction against it) it was an enormous, overwhelming relief. I understood Richard Pryor, the African Americans in the audience understood Richard Pryor and Richard Pryor and the African Americans understood me. He was right up front, saying it all clearly and without restraint. He wasn't being polite and pretending that race wasn't an issue. And it didn't matter. Nobody, not one person, in that audience was angry. In fact, not one person in that audience was anything but doubled over in paroxysms of hysterical laughter. He had our number, all of us, the whole flawed species.
That last sentence should be Richard Pryor's epitaph. It's a rare comic--hell, it's a damn near unheard of comic these days--who could wrench so many laughs out of so much human tragedy and stupidity.
My favorite Pryor routine is memorialized in his first concert movie, and it describes his first heart attack. He does a little one-man show in which he plays not only his own terrified self, but his own heart...an angry, talking heart with the attitude of a particularly vicious mugger. At one point the heart makes him get down on one knee and beg for mercy for eating so much pork. And it's hilarious. It takes real genius to make something that raw that funny.
R.I.P. Richard Pryor. Your legacy lives on.
I looked around me in that theatre that night, in which I and my little friend Kathy were among a fair minority of whites, and I realized that we were all laughing uproariously together at this shocking, dirty, racially charged stuff. As someone who grew up in a racist household (and had always had a visceral reaction against it) it was an enormous, overwhelming relief. I understood Richard Pryor, the African Americans in the audience understood Richard Pryor and Richard Pryor and the African Americans understood me. He was right up front, saying it all clearly and without restraint. He wasn't being polite and pretending that race wasn't an issue. And it didn't matter. Nobody, not one person, in that audience was angry. In fact, not one person in that audience was anything but doubled over in paroxysms of hysterical laughter. He had our number, all of us, the whole flawed species.
That last sentence should be Richard Pryor's epitaph. It's a rare comic--hell, it's a damn near unheard of comic these days--who could wrench so many laughs out of so much human tragedy and stupidity.
My favorite Pryor routine is memorialized in his first concert movie, and it describes his first heart attack. He does a little one-man show in which he plays not only his own terrified self, but his own heart...an angry, talking heart with the attitude of a particularly vicious mugger. At one point the heart makes him get down on one knee and beg for mercy for eating so much pork. And it's hilarious. It takes real genius to make something that raw that funny.
R.I.P. Richard Pryor. Your legacy lives on.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
We Have a Winner!
For the most over-the-top Christmas light display of all time. Aren't you glad you don't live next door to THIS guy?
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