Sadly, No!

So Preznit Honey Boomboom decides to make a point about protesting, in the biggest, most largely fashion, “Look at my boom boom” saggy diapered way, with shit running down the insides of its legs as he sidles into a piece of furniture 200 years new (now skidmarked for posterity), that only a magnificence like the President Select and Toddler in chief could pull off with a straight face (the big boy one, see!)

Preznint D-Money made order banning Islams from playground, his playground, his city, the one they call New York, New York!

And in losing no opportunity to prove to the heartland’s lover’s of Dear Leader, he thought it necessary to bring to life writ large, like a golem, an old trope, That in “Jew York” there was only going to be one folk’ll who will hew to the orders of one boss, while staying in the borders of one town, and now country.

If one were a student of Hyperbole; a Hyperbologist, as one might be called, in the branch of that field related to semiotics, one might recognize parallels in the image above to events in the not too distant, nor forgotten past.

It was once considered indelicate to make certain comparisons, to traffic in certain analogy, which may have once served, or attempted to serve a greater purpose, may have had the unintended consequence of creating just enough space, that in time, the band could be brought together for another gig, slipped in through the door at the back of the stage to rock the house for one more show.

I suggest that we have moved past that time and space.

It is time to sharpen our wits and fingers, folks, for I fear that Pointing while Laughing, at HIM and at his supporters, might be the most effective weapons that remain at our disposal.

Blessings upon all of you and especially upon the Rabbi’s put in captivity for the exercise of their first amendment rights…And their families and friends…

Sure — this post is a little lame, but hey it’s better than nothin’! The Washington Post reports:

Apple, Facebook, Google, Microsoft and 94 other tech companies call travel ban ‘unlawful’ in rare coordinated legal action

Which apparently works out thusly:

The move represents a rare coordinated action across a broad swath of the industry — 97 companies in total— and demonstrates the depth of animosity toward the Trump ban.

Hmm, Sadly, No! Of course, nothing beats The Donald:

I call my own shots, largely based on an accumulation of data, and everyone knows it.

Presumably, “accumulation of data” translates to watching Fox & Friends.

The fact that this fascist got shut down by a battery of shields bearing “Trans Dykes are good and pure” is… mwa, delicioso!

John Haywardyoublowme, Breit…ugh:
Ann Coulter: Trump Should Withdraw Funding from Any School with Speech Codes

…

*glares at breitbart link*

…

*glare intensifies*

Nope, sorry, I ain’t got in me yet to treat this particular shit swamp with even the dignity of my disrespect. Yes, I know that they literally control our executive branch at this point, but… well, it’s Breitbart. The shitty remnants of a piece of shit who perfected harassment tactics and “post-truth” smear tactics against the powerless. Who lived his life screaming at protestors with legitimate causes and finding ways to ruin some poor random person’s life because he was a tiny-minded little bully until his heart gave out.

Whose gravestone legacy has since become somehow worse with literal Nazi Steve Bannon taking the helm and Mi-what-a-fucking-git-lo Yianno-fuckstick becoming a “star writer” for joining on to the infamous hate movement that ruined gaming and harassing friends of mine because they dared be trans folks in game design.

So yeah, I’m sorry, I know I need to start shredding through the Breitbarts and the Infowars because those are the shitheels with the power right now, but I just can’t. Not yet.

So instead, let’s deal with a literal torture apologist because somehow that’s actually a step up:

Andrew C. McCarthy, National Re-oh fuck we were somehow not quite fascist enough, uh…-view:
Prosecute the Rioters

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I just managed to pre-wake my medicinal alarm by 2 minutes, having taken what turned out to be a nice little 2.5-3hour cruise/nap which I had started upon because, I was for lack of a better word beat. So the first thing of interest to cover (at least to me, if no one else,) is: that I seem to have calibrated my internal clock for the medicine interval every 12 hours and in this case beat the alarm by 5 minutes or so without awareness. This has happened in the past when I would get dialed into a new change in schedule and routinely beat the alarm clock (if I had one at the time) out of bed to make it to work on time which was helpful when I was working at a bakery as a young lad and would switch from two 10:00pm-6:00am shifts to four 6:00am to 2:00pm shifts every week or three of each as necessary to fill bread or pastry making roles. Anyway it is a handy thing, especially for someone of a mind to throw an alarm clock within reach, prior to fully waking, through the nearest pane of glass. So in this “looking at the bright side of life” world I am currently forced to inhabit, we have that! YeaeeeeeeHaaaaaaa!!!!!

So anyway to cut the freaking jib, and get this floe a-port, I awake from a nice chunk of late afternoon/early evening rest in time to beat the alarm and get my meds put upon or into my body.

“Cool!” I think as I slide out of bed searching for my pill box (7 day/7 night compartment deal thingy, we should start a club, but of course it would be filled with old farts including quite possible an oppressive number of persons who proudly voted for Nixon/Reagan/and Trump, (with a Perot/Romney thrown in for good measure) which I can not find immediately, but whose search brings me downstairs where I find that my hosts are watching some kind of Encomium/Overhanded, double-fisted/Power-wank/Bullshit/Retrospective of Tom Fucking Brokaw. Interviews with the current old man talking about his importance entwined with lots of footage of the younger man engaged in the heroic act of news-talking on the TV about the tumultuous and amazing times that happened mostly during my life, and for which I was a first hand witness. I also was fondly forced to remember at least a couple of occasions when not having a tv with one of those fancy remotes, I may have taken serious dead aim with a stout rubber band to hit the off switch on the TV to shut the fucker up before he was able to get his morning wrecking yak on, if the rubber band was lacking, I may have also employed a bb gun to similar effect. Dead aim is a thing, but I digress.

My God, what a pompous fucking twit!

I mean the dude was a light weight pretty boy Texan prop for Jane Pauley, but goddammit, he was there (for important things), In the Studio (for important things), sharing with us and being there for us (for these important things) and calming us/holding our hand/navigating through difficult circumstance/(during these important moments we shared collectively as a nation, unified in togetherness, cemented in unifaction, by his helping, active, and calming action.)

Watching him watch himself do that thing that he did made me wish that he might have stumbled into a gang of angry punks looking for a mark to beat, or to take the place of that nazi punk in the cartoon below.

While I am happy (I guess) that I get to have these “Get the fuck off of my lawn, you fucking tosser, piker sot” moments, and by extension continue to breathe and therefor write, I am too young to have them at the very same time.

Now that I have excised that shit-gibbon from my short term memory gob, I should be able to get back to sleep. Until next time. Beast!*

SteelyDave is the handle…and pardon me for a moment while I wipe the tears from my eyes…/shakes angry fist at Laughter, an evil Goddess if there ever was one, but merciful and fun if quite possibly a bit tricksy, or in this new realm in which we have been so unmercifully transported, a bit Loki…I’ll just cut to the chase and give you all a head start on the giggles, before I Get to analyzing the train-wreck. Behold the magnificence:

Generally speaking I don’t necessarily like doing the “lookist” thing, as I can be guilty of looking like anything within the range of someone you might feel the need to hand change to or someone whose appearance might command a doorman to open the door at a posh NYC hotel. The former, most of the time, and the latter when I get tarted up for a rock show quite unlike the guy above. And by unlike; think Motown, James Jamerson.)

This mashup/subversion of Metal heads on meth/DoxxyBoxin’ Love-Chile, man bun wearing, avatar of Masculine Metro-sexuality, what seems the rage these days, among the kids, as it were, sends me often to my porch, broom in hand, looking to chase the kids off’n it…

So now that the Style council bit is out of the way, apologies, because this could and may well go on for days. I mean gaze upon the blue/grey eyes penetratingly, If one had but one more crush to give for a man-bun wearing/animal loving/unpretentious genius…In case you had not made the leap out of those dreamy eyes and were looking for a smart huggy bear, you might have missed this very important part of the profile, Which given its placement in the profile stats, right up there at the top, I could appreciate. So for posterity I’ll share them with you just in case you might somehow stumble away from the gaze so besotted in passionate ardor that you could have missed it: “David Brookman – NYC born & raised. Certified 173 IQ.”

David Brookman – NYC born & raised. Certified 173 IQ.

I just wanted to make sure that we did not miss that bit of intel…Damn! that’s high, that is thritty odd points north of what qualifies as genius, if memory serves, and well, that old hound dog ain’t what she used to be, at least for the time being, Oh and before I slide off track, let us please take note that it is Certified™!!!, Certified™!!! I did not know that that was a thing, but that it might have become one, and managed to escape my notice entirely, does not surprise me in this day and age. They must have slipped this shit into the bloodstream when the coddling kiddy universe intersected our own. NYC born and raised bit seems a bit sad really. But there are some suburban type neighborhoods in Brooklyn and Queens, and I have not been to Staten Island but it would surprise me if there was an over-abundence of the Negro afoot. When I can be bothered to do so I will start a file on this cat.

OK after various grocery based and bird-feeder cleaning annoyance related activities I remembered what we were on about:

And once again, I ask you to gaze into the limpid pools of slate gray sexy with a touch of robins egg blue, and ask yourself not only how quickly you would jump out of bed, grab the nearest turquiose neck charm-thingy on braided leather rope, or anything else at hand to signify your appreciation of his magnificence while making it first across the line ahead of all of your competitors in the hopes that he might bestow his magnanimity upon thee…And we know how this must end…Even the victor in this ‘race to be worthy, will understand, quickly, that he/she is not, and can not, ever match up to this prize, in any way, shape, or form. Ever! Now that I take one more jealous glance, I realize that my chin music (whiskers) are in need of a trim That it is Saturday, and that I will be ‘clatchin’ with one of my bitches (waves at the the loverly Beth H with a genuine smile, I might want to appear in fine form…

 

Have a lovely day, free of *that* if possible and filled with kittens, or with whatever you play!!!

Cruising around the ‘Trons as is my want on this fine day and I come across this image:

Now, that right there is, well, an image, chart-like and such with numbers and those squigglies next to them which cipher percentage or some suchlike mathemagical Hoodoo Voodoo which almost invariably supports as truthful, whatever it is that the party who spent so. much. time. assembling the information in graphic form wanted to prove. So. Much. Time, look upon the labors to present these simple truths in a way that is easy to comprehend yet unimpeachable in its conclusion: By the Transitive Properties of Derp multiplied by the Fumunda constant(.075 moisture factor) that Hillary Clinton is a bigger Narcissist than the tiny fingered, marmot pated Don.

It would probably unfair to mention that there is no definition of what a “self mention” entails or how it might be aggregated, but then the intended audience might miss the intended point, or get confused and start looking for the paste jar…

To be honest, first, well second, actually, after laughing my ass into the next living room, it had not occurred to me that such a thorough scientific analysis of this “truth” would have been necessary, nor possibly reached this conclusion. But then again, I am not in the propaganda business, unless it is in the service of a gag. Fortunately, the genii on the conservative side of the aisle or should we refer to it as the black hole, where humor cannot escape tend to make our work easier than it should be. The first guy to sell “Own-Goaling” as a professional sporting event has a Professional Major league organization ready for exploitation.

Shortly after awaking this morning for good the title for this post appeared to me, and forced me upstairs to start looking for images to add to this post.

I have been looking for a number of them with Trump’s hair attempting to take flight and in other states of duress, only to come away with a renewed respect for the engineering that goes into the maintenance of that thing.

I also have a search window open for pictures of Honey Boo Boo looking for manipulation possibilities, but breakfast and coffee await, so this will have to be a place holding start for now. Good morning good people.

Here We Go, An old Comedy show routine about the financial collapse. So in this context, there appears to be no prior art.

“The Sorbonne, blah blah, an elegant process, not a demeaning process”,(A shot at the press) followed by an invitation extended to everyone in the room to put their hands down his pants, give a yank, explicating those hands to put one of his own “If you can Mitch, Go NUCLEAR” down there for the finish……

I never really forgot how bad the press is from a day to day matter of fact basis, but the race to be the finest ‘bottom’ in all the land, while decrying any democratic use of rules to….Lets just say that the “filibuster” is now being described as a nearly unprecedented, nearly illegal, oh and by the way, the republicans will win anyway so, lets all just move along.

This abrogation of responsibility, the race to catch the Dongle’s drippings, the prostration unto ceasar by the Whorth Estate (MSNBC, this morning anyway) Is astonishing to see…

Fuck

…

President Youppi has a new theory about drug prices.

Much like his stance on taxing foreign-made cars, Trump said that there will be a trade policy that will “prioritize that foreign countries pay their fair share for US manufactured drugs so our drug companies have greater financial resources to accelerate development of new cures.”

Reuters reported much the same:

Foreign countries must pay a fair share for drug development costs, he added. “We’re going to end global freeloading.”

Now, I’m no expert — but in what alternate universe does anyone seriously believe that even if Trump were able to force other countries to pay more for drugs, companies would then magically lower their prices in the US? Companies charge what they charge in the US because they can — improving operating margins in other countries isn’t going to have any impact on drug pricing in the US. But of course this is just another manifestation of The Amazing Donald: Foreigners are to blame for everything.

Not sure what to say about the following other than after I stopped laughing the first 25 times I saw it loop, I left to take care of some random business and after firing up the old laptop again I watched it another 15 times and it never stopped making me smile…Now a little background….Provider was a youth when the Sex Pistols became a thing, and shortly thereafter more of the other stuff rolled into my orbit. I had no shortage of friends who dressed like the guy stepping out of the brownstone, though none of them wore swastika’s,  the doc martins, suspenders, army shorts, black flag/dead Kennedy’s t-shirt, buzz-cuts, my skinhead pals dug the fashion statement, the music, and almost all of them enjoyed the sweet-leaf. None of my buddies were Nazi punks however.

Shared for your amusement!

Given that our new administration will be filled with these guys, I’ll take what I can get amusement-wise for the time being, or until the impeachment hearings begin.

Like Indiana Jones, I cherish art and despise Nazis.
Image taken from this video by Rob F

Taylor Wofford, Quartz:
Philosopher Slavoj Žižek settles the “Is it OK to punch a Nazi?” question once and for all

Let’s be frank, this last year has been pure unmitigated hell and if we managed to survive it, dragging our limped and bruised bodies and frayed minds clinging to the raggedy edge this far then damnitt we’re fucking superheroes.

Even if all that’s propelling us forward is spite and a refusal to be taken out by a carny-handed mango man (h/t Liberal Redneck), then fuck it that’s enough.

Cause those of us on the raggedy edge, well, we’ve seen America at its worst. We saw our country look at two candidates, one who molested kids on stage, threatened numerous war crimes, quoted from Mein Kampf, and was in every way an unfit sociopath with a hard-on for nukes, and another one who had a uterus and went welp, I do hate me some girl cooties, let’s go for Putin’s hand-picked fascist stooge.

We saw people who saw our fleeting moments of joy being able to marry who we love, come out as our real selves, start to see ourselves being a part of the American dream and so despised our happiness that they are willing to burn this country down to get it.
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