You know the one about the scorpion and the frog?
As the ridiculous and substance-lite as the (non)story goes, when President Obama spoke privately to John Boehner this morning, about scheduling a major jobs speech before both houses of congress next Wednesday night, Boehner said fine, cool, whatever. The two shook hands and did a chest bump. But when Obama formally requested the visit, as is tradition, Boehner thwarted the tradition that says, Yeah, we’ll have the place all gussied up for your arrival, and instead said, Meh…we’re gonna be too busy to host your annoying ass. Then, flipping Obama the bird, Boehner made like the Great and Powerful Oz and said, “Come back, tomorrow!” I probably don’t need to describe who, in this negotiation, acted like the cowardly lion.
This flagrant disrespect (imagine the outcry if congress had done this to Dubya!) is in keeping with the Republican line we’ve come to know and expect. The duplicitous GOP continues to show where it stands when it comes to their love for America, which is to say, they are unabashed in expressing their complete disdain for America. Back before I was so disillusioned, I would have thought that this—this!— is finally where Obama is going to reveal his Master Plan of Ass Kicking and Take-No-Prisoners Leadership that he’s been keeping under wraps for the past two years.
But no. He caved to this trite, itty-bitty thing just like he caved to the closure of Guantanamo, just like he caved to the private option, just like he caved to eliminating the Bush Tax Cuts, just like he caved on the “non-negotiables” he outlined in the debt ceiling, and so on, and so on.
A commentor named ResearchtheFacts summed up the situation thusly:
Part of the problem is nobody expects anything from the republicans history is evidence of that, so most look to the dems to fill the void. But when you have leadership this weak, the disappointment is greater and disparity is deeper. Nothing gets done. More time is spent dancing Dem top leadership around the dance floor. If this was a prison situation he [Obama[ would already be someone’s girlfriend….So Americans are frustrated. The country will be better off when someone with good common sense, intellect and mental soundness runs for president. But we don’t get those kind of candidates we get egos with multiple personality disorders and most times not a lick of common sense. Out of all candidates and the current president, no hope to be found. It is a sad day in America.
Aside from a few grammatical missteps—why bother with sentence structure when weighted with hopelessness and despair?—I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Oh, that night of running naked in the street upon Obama’s election are long, long gone.
Men behaving disgustingly: About moral ambiguity and which sleazebag is sleazier
“Politicians got lipstick on the collar, the whole media startin’ to holler.
But I don’t give a fuck who they screwin’ in private. I wanna know who they screwin’ in
public. Robbin’, cheatin’, stealin,’ white collar criminal, McDonald eatin’. You deserve a
beatin.’ Send you home weepin’, with a fat bill for your Caribbean weekend.” –Michael
Franti
Oy vey. Has it been the season for awful behavior or what? Granted, it’s a numbingly
long season dating (at least) all the way back to, “It depends on what the definition
of is is,” to “I did nothing wrong at the Minneapolis airport,” continuing right on
past “I don’t know if that picture is me. It could well be. It looks like me. I don’t know
who that baby is. I have no idea what that picture is,” and directly into “I told my
wife about this event, which occurred over a decade ago.”
Blech. It leaves a taste in the mouth more unpleasant than semen, doesn’t it?
Last week, John Edwards was indicted on several counts, none of which include
being an anal goiter, which isn’t illegal. Unfortunately for Dominique Strauss-Kahn,
sexually assaulting maids is illegal. Luckily for Dominique Strauss-Kahn, when
you’re a rich white dude, you get to live in a $50,000 a month townhouse while you
await trial. Somehow I doubt Herman Cain would enjoy such privilege under the
same circumstances.
Capping off the recent spate of ewwww, gross! by lots of powerful men, was the
tweeted photo of Rep. Anthony Weiner’s semi-erect-in-boxer-briefs wiener. Or his
purported wiener, he said, denying any recollection of whether the protruding penis
picture was his. Which made perfect sense to me, since I have absolutely no idea if
my naked pictures of me are me.
I immediately attributed the partial peen (unsee! Unsee!) to James O’Keefe or
Andrew Breitbart, purely as a coping mechanism. What public narcissist
servant would be so obtuse as to take naked self-portraits in the current climate?
Note to future egomaniacal leaders: Don’t let your fetish photos fall into the wrong
hands (how did Breitbart get all these snapshots?).
In the days leading up to his admission, Weiner said he was hiring his own
investigative team. This tack worked out well for the Catholic Church when its
own recent investigation into sexual abuse by priests finally cleared up that whole
mishegoss. It’s all in the past now, they say. And it wasn’t celibacy that made ‘em
do it, neither. It was the 60’s. All that goddamned bra burning free love had
repercussions, people.
Mmmhmm. And Eddie Murphy was just giving the transvestite hooker a ride home.
Prior to Weiner’s pathetic confession and bare-chested-and flexing-screen shots, CNN’s Piers
Morgan launched his own investigation into Cock Shot 2011 (I wrote this before Jon Stewart used it, by the way) by consulting, via
phone with Rudy Giuliani, a leading expert on ewww, gross!
The former mayor of New York—notorious for a moral turpitude desperately out
of sync with the family values mantra of his party—should have recused himself.
That would have been classy. But Giuliani is klassy and instead offered a breathless
condemnation of Weiner; his exasperation must have left righteous spittle all over
his Blackberry.
Klassier still was Giuliani’s response to Morgan’s next line of questioning, which
focused on whether New Jersey Governor Chris Christie’s use of state police
helicopters to get to his kid’s baseball games was also inappropriate. (Christie has
since written a personal check as reimbursement. A true mensch, that one.)
Giuliani had no problem with Christie using taxpayer money this way. Yet, his
opposing opinions on the two sets of circumstances revealed the size of his moral
yard stick, if you know what I’m sayin’. And I think we’ve all seen just about enough
of that.
Christie had to get to the games, he said. It’s clear Christie is a devoted family man, he
said. The helicopter was going to be up there in the air anyway, he said. Well played,
Rudy. Well played.
Unfortunately, Piers Morgan missed this opportunity to remind viewers that this
mini-Newt-Gingrich—who was fucking his communications director before he was
fucking Judith Nathan, all while married to Donna Hannover who he was fucking
while married to his second-cousin-first wife—used lots of taxpayer money to visit
his mistress (which one, I’m not exactly sure). Also not included as a credibility
asterisk, was the fact that Giuliani’s then-lover, now-third wife began getting city-
provided chauffeur services from the NYPD well before he admitted to his affair.
But, hey. Giuliani didn’t take phone pics of his penie and send them across the
Internet (that we know of). He didn’t have a love child with a maid (that we know
of). And something I bet he’d consider evidence of his upstanding character: He
didn’t sexually assault any maids (that we know of). Bonus points for him!
Obviously, there is a difference between a rapist and your everyday despicable
prick. But the news is ugly enough to make Octomom’s new bikini pictures look hot,
and that’s saying something. Have you seen them yet? She’s all chiseled, tucked,
pulled, plumped and Botoxed within an inch of where her hymen used to be,
wearing an animal print bikini, and kneel-squatting in ocean foam like she’s trying
to alleviate a months-long bout of constipation. She’s holding her hair up with one
hand, and with the other, she’s dragging behind her what I can only presume is a
brown, soggy burp cloth. It’s not sexy. It’s horrifying.
But it’s better than an imperious Rudy Giuliani pretending he has any moral
authority whatsoever. And it’s way, way better than these self-enamored,
impervious fucksticks flashing their fuck sticks all about town and thinking they
aren’t going to get caught.
Wingnuts: Opportunistic, hypocrital, unaccountable bullies. Still. Forever. Always.
“Our nation was shocked by the tragedy in Arizona earlier today. Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, members of her staff, and others became the victims of a senseless act of violence. Congresswoman Giffords serves Arizona’s 8th District with distinction and thoughtful leadership, and it is horrifying that she was exposed to such violence at an event designed to reach the people she represents. I couldn’t agree more with Speaker Boehner, who earlier said that, ‘an attack on one who serves is an attack on all who serve.’ Along with our nation, this institution has suffered a horrible tragedy. We are saddened, mourn those who lost their lives, and stand together in hopeful prayer for the recovery of the victims and their families.” -Eric Cantor, House Majority Leader
You know, I’m struck by Rep. Cantor’s comment. I am curious to know where Cantor and other members of the right were during the many threatening, near-violent and (at times) violent town hall meetings that took place during the health care reform debate days.
‘Memba that? Way back then, the Tea Baggers, who liked to openly carry guns to Presidential events, and Republicans, who defended such ridiculousness— even though they would never in a gajillion years have taken the same stance during the Dubya years—did little to denounce the dangerous vitriol and outright intimidation aimed largely at those who might have possibly supported health care reform in this country (i.e. Democrats). In fact, those who define themselves as right-wingers have a nice track record of inciting the kind of mindset and behavior that leads to the murder of public representatives. We need look no further than John McCain and that awful offense of a woman who was his running mate to see but one starting point for today’s events.
The shooting of the Arizona congresswoman and the 18 other people that went to meet her isn’t just another pock mark for Arizona (the place we will not be visiting during Ruby’s month-long spring break, no matter how much we all want to see the Grand Canyon). It’s a loss for our democracy, as Sheriff Clarence Dupnik dared to say in a press conference tonight:
“When you look at unbalanced people, how they respond to the vitriol that comes out of certain mouths about tearing down the government. The anger, the hatred, the bigotry that goes on in this country is getting to be outrageous. And, unfortunately, Arizona I think has become sort of the capital. We have become the Mecca for prejudice and bigotry. It’s not unusual for all public officials to get threats constantly, myself included. And that’s the sad thing of what’s going on in America. Pretty soon, we’re not going to be able to find reasonable, decent people who are willing to subject themselves to serve in public office.”
He later added:
“Let me just say one thing—because people tend to poo-poo this business about all the vitriol that we hear inflaming the American public by people who make a living off of doing that—that may be free speech. But it’s not without consequences.”
Then he closed with a sad and resigned z-snap as he left the podium. (Not really. But he could have.)
Doesn’t the devil wear Prada?
With the Easter Bunny’s poufy tail still visible in the rear view mirror, I wonder for half-a-heartbeat if it isn’t too early to chat about the Catholic Church. But what the hell? People were making Michael Jackson jokes on Facebook within hours of his death and I’m not even planning on making jokes. The fact that I waited through the holiday before setting fire to my keyboard has been more than respectful, if I do say so myself. And let me tell you: I have been sitting on my fingers.
It might just be all about the hokey pokey!
I will, I will, I will! weigh in on the UCSD PR nightmare that seems to get worse with each day, and which makes me want to bubble-wrap my little girl before I launch her into the dangerous territory of adulthood. But for now, I’m busy faxing and re-faxing and re-faxing again, reams of paper. I make love to a fax machine every day and quite frankly, this has got me wondering—as I fix another god^$(#(@ * motherf!*%$#^$#%^&$%! blasted paper jam—at the meaning of my life.
On Monday, I decided it was meaningless and cried twice. On Tuesday, I confirmed it was meaningless, and cried three times. I mean, holy smokes, folks: I DO NOT CRY AT WORK. It’s against my personal code of conduct. And the a realization that my career consists of minute-to-minute use of a nearly obsolete technology is that much more humiliating.
But. I can write! Right? That’s got too count for something. No?
So in the midst of all this faxing and crying and crying and faxing and feeling generally boxed in, I continued to vent my frustrations about John Mayer. You see, it’s more advisable for me to aim my freak-out at him, than it is my lovely husband. Fewer repercussions, if you know what I’m saying. Plus, Sam’s a terrific guy while Mayer is….well. You just need to head on over to Culture Lust and read on.
Just warming up for the Big Post
Overheard at my dentist’s office last week:
Patient (white, middle-aged, male) at reception: I missed Aubrey. I was really hoping she would be cleaning my teeth today.
Receptionist: I know, I know. She’s on her honeymoon.
Patient: Where did she go?
Receptionist: Africa.
Patient: Wow! She just might come back with a bone in her nose. Hahahahahahaha!
Receptionist: Ha ha…um…ha ha (ahem)…ha haa…
Patient: You’ll have to tell her I said that! Hahaha. No. Nevermind. Don’t tell her. I’ll tell her myself next time. Hahahahahha.
Dear John Mayer,
When Playboy asked you whether black women “throw themselves” at you, you said:
“I don’t think I open myself to it. My dick is sort of like a white supremacist. I’ve got a Benetton heart and a fuckin’ David Duke cock. I’m going to start dating separately from my dick.”
Well, jeeze. This is awkward but…dude! You said that—among many other inane things— OUT LOUD. To a reporter. And anyway, do you really think your racist dick is the reason black women don’t dig you?
The Benetton folks must be cringing.
Honey, you are an affront to frat boys everywhere and that’s a damn near impossible feat. You are not smart. You are not cute. You are not deep. You are not intellectual or witty or cool or hip or dope or fly or whatever it is you fancy yourself to be. You have a small, small, small brain and a very big mouth. You are a self-important asshat raised to the 11th power, quadrupled by dickheadery, topped with three servings of phony and one heaping scoop of overcompensation.
Do humanity a favor, John Mayer, and please stop talking. Just shut the fuck up and go far away. Make that annual Mayercraft Cruise of yours permanent. Put on your Gopher-from-The-Love-Boat costume, set your vessel on starboard tack and make a bee line for an iceberg.
Just…yeah. Don’t come back.
xoxox,
~aaryn
It’s most certainly not comparable to Trent Lott’s comment
Michael Steele is a peach.
The Republican Party’s chairman and blackface (double entendre, intended), is calling for Senator Harry Reid to step down as US Senate Majority Leader over a purportedly racist comment he made during the 2008 election. In the forthcoming book Game Change, Reid is quoted as having said that Barack Obama would be a viable presidential candidate because he is “light-skinned” and had “no Negro dialect, unless he wanted to have one.”
Go Figure
I have something to say about citizens bringing guns to Presidential events.
Which is perhaps more inflammatory than the swimsuit worn by that…person…in my previous post. Or, perhaps not. You be The Decider.
Oh, barf!
“This was a whole lot more than a simple affair, this was a love story. A forbidden one, a tragic one, but a love story at the end of the day.” -The self-absorbed asshat, in light of his other dalliances that didn’t cross “the ultimate line,” which I can only presume—given the Governor’s record on social policy—is anal sex.
How many more crocodile-tearful press conferences, do you think?