Now, for a Bit of Fun (earmuffs, children)

Slap Down

Many progressives and Democrats are extremely frustrated by Obama.  Some see it as a lack of leadership, some say that his policies are Republican light.  The fact is that it doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter at all what we think of Obama.

Why?  Because, the election of 2012 is about one thing: this country’s chance to slap down the Republican Party, along with their tea baggers, corporate masters, and ideals.   They may not go away entirely, but if they are rebuked by the voting masses despite all the money and hate they are going to pour into this election, they will have no choice but to retreat from their corporate, job-killing, poor-hating agenda.

The election of 2012 is about working people, decent people, rational people, and real Americans coming together to say FUCK YOU to the Republican Party.  Fuck your corruption, fuck your lies, fuck your inability to compromise, fuck your unwillingness to govern for the people of this country.

We can deal with Obama later.  We can deal with blue dog Democrats later.  We can deal with Democratic party and their pussy-footing, ninny dance later.

Now is the time to backhand slap the shit out of the Republicans and their stupid, weasely faces.  I mean, have you seen Michelle Bachmann’s face?  Have you seen Mitt’s?  Perry’s?  Aren’t they just begging for a big, loud, fleshy slap?

Our motto: “2012: Save a Job—Bitch Slap a Republican.  VOTE DEMS.”


Star Wars Inc.

Next, I thought we might talk about corporate personhood…now that corporations are people, I thought to myself, “what would it be like if Star Wars characters were corporations?”

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Lucas “Oil” Skywalker sits in a swamp on Yoda’s planet in the Dagoba Chocolate system.  The place stinks of plant vegetation, decaying matter…in a word: carbon.  “In a thousand years, this place will have more crude than all the moons of Lunesta LLC,” he thought to himself.  “Luckily, I’ll still be around to mine the shit out of it, because unlike living beings, my corporate charter guarantees me life everlasting—like a profit making vampire!” he chuckled wanly.

Just then the bushes nearby rustled, and a small green being emerged, clad only in a burlap robe, long ears sticking out above a wizened face and a few wispy grey hairs.  “Ready, are you?” he asked in a throaty, high-pitched voice.

“What for old…man?  What exactly are you anyway?” the corporation answered.

“A Jedi master am I.  Yoda.  To train you, I am.  Ask again, will I: ready are you?”

It considered this suspiciously, “For what exactly?  What does this Jedi training entail—do you have a prospectus, perhaps some credential or a license to certify your mastery?”

“Not used to being questioned am I—accept my mastery you can, or leave… unaided,” responded Yoda, ominously.

Skywalker continued, “furthermore, I’d like to know what the risks are to my investors?  Will this training be profitable?”

“Profitable it is, yes, but with great risk too,” the Jedi master answered.  “Hate, a Jedi must never use.  Compassion, yes, compassion must be his armaments, focus his defense.”

“Look, are you saying we can’t use our profits to buy elections or sling mud at our opponents?  And this compassion bit—sounds an awful lot like welfare.  Haven’t you heard?  Our profits are better if we don’t pay taxes.  Compassion!  Ha!  Profits, I say, eh, master Yoda.  I think we’ll pass on your Jedi training.”

“Then help your friends, you cannot.”

“My friends—do you mean my investors?  I could care less.  Vader Inc. can have them—a thousand more will snatch up their stocks.  Haven’t you heard man?  We’ve got a practical monopoly on the galaxy’s oil reserves.  This one included, in a thousand years.”

“Careless, you are, and corrupt,” Yoda sneered, turning to walk away.

“Good luck master Yoda,” came the retort.  “Social Security may be able to pay the mortgage on that hut now, but when we elect Rick Perry, you can kiss your that and your Medicare goodbye, you green piece of Wookie shit!”


Fakebook, part Deux

OK, most of you have probably not heard this, but my very first blog was a slap down of Facebook, which, being that I am now advertising on Facebook, it is probably stupid to slam it again, but…

People keep saying and doing stupid shit.  Look, I get it, facebook is a great way to keep track of old friends, relatives, etc.  That is all well and good.  Moreover, if you have something important, useful, or entertaining to say, then fuck yeah, more power to you.

However, it seems the more I am on that the “book” the more horrifying it becomes.  The status updates are just so jacky—I can boil 90% of them down into this: “look at me, I am so great, look at what I am doing, I’m the fucking best.  I’m better looking, more moral, richer, and luckier than you, and therefore, I want you to like me (please, please love me for how great I am—worship my ass please—I NEED your approval).”  The blatant facebook brag.  It’s a classic.

Some of the other posts are just strange.  Status update: “I’m taking a shit and reading a book.”  I need to know this…why (side note: it may seem gross, but this a fantastic way to shit—and for goodness sakes, just wash your hands, and put the book down before you wipe—is that so hard)?  Then fifteen minutes later: “going to Target to get some laxatives.”  Then, an hour later: “I’m in so much pain (hint: the friends that like this post are your enemies)!”  Finally: “Birth.”

The other ones that make me want to punch myself in the face are the gladhands.  Status update: “just wanted to say that Sarah’s such a wonderful friend…I just love her so!”

Sarah: “Oh, I love you too Gena ;-)”

Gena: “We’re such good friends—we’ll be BFF’s forever!”

Sarah: “Yay!  I love us!”

OK, I can sense you’re about to throw up at this point.  But I’d like to point out to people, that BFF stands for “best friends forever” so adding another forever is fucking redundant—besides that, it is impossible.  You can’t square forever, just the as infinity is exactly the same as infiniti + 1, dumb-dumbs.

The chord that ties it all together is the veiled attempt to communicate as if you are talking to only one or a few people, when really, you’re telling everyone what you’re doing.  Can someone tell me why the hell that is necessary, not to mention narcissistic as all fucking get out?

Suddenly, I’m listening to Tommy all over again…see me, feel me, touch me, heal me…except instead of feeling awesome for listening to one of the greatest albums ever, I’m looking for the power button.  Consider this your medicine, facebookers: take dose of humility every time you get on the Internet and we’ll all feel better.

By the way, the autocorrect just told me that I have to capitalize “Internet.”  Now that is fucking arrogant.


Logic (this gets nasty—don’t say you weren’t warned…if you’re easily frightened, run for the hills Ma Barker!)

OK, so here’s the riddle:

The Supreme Court says that corporations are people, and that because they can’t speak (seems to me that kind of rules them out as being people), they can use money to speak for them.


A) If money is also speech, aren’t all U.S. taxes illegal?

B) Also, can corporations cast a vote?

C) Can they run for office (one is trying to, check this out:

D) Can they be tried for crimes, and if so, how do we imprison them?

If these questions are as puzzling to you as they are to me, it’s probably because you aren’t a corporate shill who rose to power by sucking the dicks of those who have more money than you.  John Roberts, not only are you Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, you are also the biggest cock gobbler (doesn’t mean they were big though—can’t imagine Cheney packing more than 3 inches) in the history of this country, and I’m not sure what the Republicans are going to do when they find out: impeach you, or figure out which airports you fly in and out of so they can knock on the bathroom stalls with wads of hundreds in their suits…

Again, if you disagree with Corporate personhood, sign the petition at:

Answers: A (No, because money isn’t equal to speech, because someone still has to speak, even if it is in a commercial), B (No—who’s going to pull the lever, press a button, or lick the stamp), C (Yes, apparently), and D (I fucking hope so…)

About The Author: Jay Scott


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