Da Hoomin Chronicles

Hey der, Diego heres. I’s the dog. Wellzzz, not so really on that last point.

Ya sees, mi hoomin guessed the truth. I is a re-carnation gone cablooie.

Lets me explain.

Sees, my real name is Louis as in IV and I was makin’ ready to zoom back to earth in a new personal, when that silly girl Mother Theresa, she shot me with her pea shooter just as I was standin’ next to Albert E. who was headin’ back as a geisha girl in the Playboy Mansion. Well, anyway, I fell back into his arms, and poof, it all went wrong and well, here we are together, Louis and Albert that is, in a dog suit of all things.

Believe me, it’s takin’ some getting used to.

But, I was gonna catch you all up on the doin’s here. See, I talk to Nate Silver most every day, and so I was not surprised when the nice lookin’ dude with the biggish ears won the ‘lection. Now I have had to put up with a lot from my hoomins who were worried, ‘specially the momsie one. She’s a handful I tell ya.

So we won’t have that Willard fella to kick around any more, which I kinda enjoyed in a sick sort of way. Anyways, we did goodly across the country pretty much. We got rid of Batman’s bastard son, Alan West in Florida, which is something given that that state is chock full of people who can’t remember whether they have both shoes on let alone who is running for any particular office.

We got rid of Walsh that creep in Illinois who don’t pay his child support, and we are done with the rape experts Mourdock (the name sounds right out of Harry Potter), and Akin (my brain is achin’).

Marriage equality won in all states where it was on the ballot, which will drive the insanely crazy religious right to go back to adultery to soothe their inflamed hearts and organs.

Canada is closing the borders to keep out all the crazies who swore they would head north if the President won again. I don’t blame Canadians for not wanting those types in their country.

It was a bad night for old white men. Serves ’em right.

So, anyway, I let my hoomins stay up pretty late to enjoy themselves but I got my momsie up pretty darn early to take her for her walk. Mind you, she’s not my real Momsie, since of course, hoomins are a bit lower on the umm hmm, evolutionary scale if ya’s know what I mean.

Anyway, she does good walkin’ and I let her off’in her leash most of the time. She obeys real goodly and I can trust her. When those infernal match-chines with their loud noises and hoomins sittin’ in them goes by, I put her back on her lead until it’s safe. By the looks of some of those hoomins that I sees gettin’ out of them contraptions, they could use the walk instead of riding.

I keeps me a neat and tidy house here in New Mexico, which of course is not New, but that’s history and I’m not feeling like lecturing you on that right now. I makes sure my hoomins puts away their stuff, expecially shoes, but also napkins and those funny plastic toothpicks. I grabs ’em when I sees ’em and breaks ’em all up.

My popsie hoomin’ uses lighters and I steals them too, cuz it don’t look good to blow smoke out your butt, I mean eatin’ hole. I smash them with my Jaws of Steel, and Popsie says I’m gonna light up my mouth one day, whatever that means. But he is learnin’.  Popsie also says that I am better than Fagan whatever that means.

I keeps my momsie cleaning up the place and I make sure she spends lots of time in the food room making me treats of all kinds. I likes gravy and bones, and hotdogs and bones, and peanut butter and bones, in that order.

I don’t like to go places much so I stay homes when my hoomins have to go sumplace like Texas. I don’t go there. I like to keep my mind clean. But I has my own pad that I hang out in when they go. It’s nice so I can lock myself in–keeps the monsters from gettin’ me. They is monsters I can assure you. I has it all tricked out with carpeting and water, and plenty of bones.

It’s the only time I can get any rest; taking care of hoomins is a full-time job.

So any hoo’s if’n any of you guys gets to Casablanca, stop in at the gin joint okay? That jokin’ girl Theresa, she went back there to work serving drinks and yellin’ out “play it again Sam!” Give her  a slug for a tip for me.

Don’t get me wrong, these hoomins is nice and all, I couldn’t ask for better peeps to care for, but I had other plans. I was headed back to Earth with the intention of being the love child of  movin’ pitcher star, Johnny Depp and his new squeeze. It was gonna be heaven I tell ya, before that witch Theresa hit me with the pea shooter.

Diego, signing out!


Existential Mindtwisting

You can drive yourself quite silly if you spend much time wondering how something came from nothing, and what came before the “big bang” and how where some atomic particles are concerned at least, they can be in more than one place at the same time, and that the very act of observing alters reality.

And then there is always tsunamis, tornadoes and hurricanes to worry about.

To say nothing of whether it’s safe to drink the milk when it’s a day past its expiration date.  That last one bothers the Contrarian to no end.

Anyway, I’m really glad it ain’t my job to think about that stuff. It is one of the main reasons I didn’t mark an X next to particle physicist on the “what I want to be when I grow up” form that I filled out in kindergarten, or maybe first grade.

That and the fact that they pretty much track you away from physics as a major if you think that Alice and Wonderland was silly fantasy claptrap and not worthy of the human mind. (Which is not to say that I didn’t enjoy the movie–the one with Johnny Depp, for who in their right-thinking female mind would NOT like anything starring the most gorgeous, adept, magnificent, actor in the entire universe, which is saying a lot given that I have familiarity with only one stinkin’ planet in the entire universe which must contain billions and billions as Carl Sagan used to say.)

Which is all a very long way around to saying that you might like to take a look at this book if you do like to waste lazy Sunday afternoons in a hammock thinking about these types of things. It is written by a guy named Jim Holt, and is called “Why Does the World Exist?” You can read a nice review about it here.

Frankly I think that it exists because Satan knew we would have to think about it, and that would drive us crazy, and thus provide the “in” he needs to work his evil machinations. Or on the other hand, it might be because there had to be a good place to put fruit cakes that the other universes banned as uneatable. One or the other, I am sure.

(I can hear the applause from here–connecting Johnny Depp and fruitcake is a difficult task to be sure. There must be a Pulitzer out there with my name on it.)


I’m not sure any human being has spent as much time reproving again and again that he is a horse’s ass than the ubiquitous Texas Governor, Rick Perry. Think about it. Can you come up with a better candidate for permanent court jester?

Mr. I-can-only-think-of-two Perry, assures America that he will have no truck with that socialistic Affordable HCA, no matter what the Supremes have to say. Dumbo says he ain’t gonna set up no exchanges, which is odd, given the fact that the Federal Government will then set them up for him. Hardly the hands-off my medicare approach that one would think he would favor. But having only left-over oatmeal in the brain-case does apparently lend to such anomalies.


I know I heard this in passing. I was passing through one room and into another, gathering all the belongings–all the important ones that is. It’s called a bug-out bag, and smart folks who know that disaster is just around every corner, always have one. And to listen to Rinsed Penis surely you must know that that disaster is set for the day after election day this November such (horrors), President Obama be re-elected.

The man claims that our very nation is at stake.We must elect Willard to “save America” to preserve “our way of life.” Read all kinds of white racist crap into that of course.

I think Rinsed has swapped some DNA with Michele Bachmann. Makes ya shiver.


Okay, I’m all for adding a new sub-unit of humanity–men or women who don’t claim they are transgender, but exhibit a hatred of their own sex that is damaging to the sex. I wish to call them butt-faced Pygmalions infused with cactus-juice blood, my term. Feel free to call them what you like, as long as you keep a long stick handy.

A “woman” called Janis Lane is head of the Central Mississippi Tea Party. Not the entire Mississippi Tea Party mind you, but only the central part. She’s a really important person. Well here is here take on women–herself:

Lane: Our country might have been better off if it was still just men voting. There is nothing worse than a bunch of mean, hateful women. They are diabolical in how than can skewer a person. I do not see that in men. The whole time I worked, I’d much rather have a male boss than a female boss. Double-minded, you never can trust them.

Because women have the right to vote, I am active, because I want to make sure there is some sanity for women in the political world. It is up to the Christian rednecks and patriots to stand up for our country.

Now, given her “Christian” feelings, mightn’t her HUsssband, step in and shut this thing up and get her back to cookin’ his breakfast? Just a thought.


Have a wild one. Adios

Yes, It’s True, We’re Marching to Pretoria

It’s all for one and one for all. . . .



Willard thinks we should all just get along now.

Newt says that this proves that Ragin’ Rick ain’t got the cajones and should step aside and let a real man wade into the Mitty waters.

Ron Paul has gone to sleep.

Ragin’ Rick says, “on to Pretoria . . .err, I mean Louisiana–you must stop that ghetto Cajun talk and speak English!”

Me? I’m packing.

Did you know that Johnny Depp is in New Mexico even as we speak? Yes he is! He’s shooting Tonto. And I’m here in Iowa. Not where I should be, by his side, offering technical advice on how he can be even more adorable each and every moment that he breathes.

Oh. Excuse me. I forgot myself.

Hey, I can drift into Deppland just a bit. The Contrarian was pulling for this woman on Jeopardy just because she had big boobs! I never noticed at all. I think that’s a lousy reason to cheer for a contestant.

John has talent. Pure, gorgeous talent, from the tip of his head to the tip of his toe. And I would like to . . .

Back to REAL LIFE.

Real life has Willard in it. Oh that man annoys the bejesus out of me. The phony of phonies, not to be confused with the holy of holies. Or the moly of molies.

Excuse me. I have to make some scalloped potatoes. Explain that name to me. They have no scallops in them, are not cut to resembled scalloped edging. So what is it with calling them scalloped? Huh?

Wanna watch evolution in reverse? Head to the state of Tennessee where you can see the latest in evolutionary chic, which is creationism in all it’s glory. Yes, ladies and gents hurry up and watch the fake illusory fable compete with science.

From this day forward, lil childrins in the fair state of Tennessee whose namer was a writing stutterer (the true spelling of which is Tenese), will be teached both truth and fable in one jumble of hogwash that passes as your basic edge-E-cation. You will learn if you are so inclined that all these so-called “theories” are controversial, as Pastor Backwards so informed you last Sunday from his pulpit. He learnt that from his KJV which has all the important stuff in red, for the quick tour.

They also passed a law that allows all those ten commandments to be displayed everywhere so you can refresh you memory before stoopin’ the mayors sweet wife when she comes in for some “pork” at the deli.

Oh I did not say that.

I have a question. The Willard says that the President doesn’t understand the economy.

Willard says he was a business man.

Does that mean he understands the economy?

Does The Willard have as many experts advising him on the economy as the President has?

Another example of the inability of Republicans to follow plain logic.

Instead of quietly walking away from an issue that is killing them, the GOP is racing over the cliff. In Tennessee, as you no doubt heard, there is a bill that would require every doctor who does an abortion to be in a list, and that list must include the patients, and plenty of personal information about them. It seems that if you can’t stop the abortion, you make a list of all the necessary information for hate groups and their too-willing nuts to “take care of the problem” themselves.

And In Arizona, when even the dried up prune, Jan Brewer refused to sign the “employer decides if your contraception is for the right purpose” bill, another bright GOP bulb wants prospective aborting women to “have to watch a real abortion” first. And before you are treated for prostate cancer you idiot, I think you should was some ass surgery.

Remember back when President Obama and Senator of Orange, John Boehner were close to the “grand bargain” to pass a budget and end the debt ceiling crisis? Remember that? And remember when JB said that the reason it failed was that “Obama moved the goal posts once again”? And remember that he looked a little sheepish?

Well, the truth comes forth. Indeed the Prez and lil’ weiner Boehner were near a deal. And Boehner was very sincere. And while he was being very sincere, wanna be Eric Cantor was being very sincere in going around all the TeaPeople® and telling them that he would lead them in a mutiny against JB, and whispering that JB was nothing but a low-down RINO.

Now, a bit of history is in order. Way back in the time of Newtydom, when Newt was Speaker, he was getting entirely too friendly with working with President Clinton. The religious RAgeous Right decided his time had come, and they were organizing a mutiny to dump Newty. Dick Armey thought he was their chosen heir apparent. Except they had in mind Steve Largent (previously a footballer who had got that old time religion and was married to  James Dobson and Tony Perkins and all those crazy MF’s). So Armey told Newt, and Newt avoided the coup.

So, Boehner gets wind of the tides of NO CONFIDENCE about to descend upon his Cheetos head, and well, he ran screamin’ into the night of NO.

And that’s the way that grand bargain fell apart.  And that MF I threw it in there? That was Mindless Furies. Cuz I don’t use those bad words.

And this I just leave you with, cuz I haven’t worked up anything really good on it yet. I swear it’s true though. Here in Iowa they have begun advertising a website called Farmers.com which is for farmy types who are looking for love. It’s a dating service for hicks. I swear it’s true. I do.


I’m Mrs. Johnny Depp!

Oh, yes I am!

And I can prove it. More or less.

It seems that a respectable number of experimental and theoretical physicists believe that there are multiple universes. Not only that, but that there may be an infinite number of them, all of which means, that any thing that can happen, has.

Well, one thing that can happen (I know it might be a stretch but we are talking about statistical probabilities here) is that Mr. Sexy pants could fall in love with me.

Therefore, some where he has. Proved!

That also means that there is an infinite number of me’s. One of me lives in Hawaii in a gorgeous beach house. One of me is President of the US of A, or the United Planetary Association of Andromeda. The options are as they say infinite.

The Contrarian was a bit off-put by this revelation, until I reminded him that somewhere he was married to Halle Berry. That brought a grin.

The Contrarian has some “issues” with the theoretical physicists in the end though. He’s not much in favor of a time “before” time. I myself have no difficult with that concept. However we both noticed that these guys and gals do have a pretty cushy job. I mean they sit in a comfortable office, with a chalk or white board and doodle with numbers and squiggles, and then travel to nice places and sit and “think”. Often at beaches, mountain ranges, and other pleasant places.

It’s not like they ever have to prove anything. As the Rethuglians always say about anything they don’t want to help pay for: “it’s only a theory.”

Best of all, I can theorize about Johnny Depp all I want, cuz who’s to say that he doesn’t figure into some time warpy travel theory? I mean, being a theoretical physicist is so highfalutin’ that nobody can reasonably challenge my claims right? Only others of my kind. And after all, we have a mutual desire not to upset any of our apple carts.

So, I’m applying for my grant money, and hope to set up shop any day now.

Hope you all had a nice labor day. Out of work laborers most assuredly did not I guess. We had a T-Bone, potato salad and some jalapeño poppers. The latter two recipes can be found at What’s on the Stove, which has it’s only little link on the side bar now.

Ricky “Gosh darn this is fun” Perry is what they call “surging” in the polls. Somebody finally tapped the shyster on the shoulder and told him to act “gubernatorial” and high tail it back to TEXAS where people are losing their homes at an astounding rate due to unchecked wildfires. He’s properly “concerned” now.

Meanwhile Mitt “it’s slipping away” Romney is starting to show the wear and tear of being rejected but once again. Mr. Perpetual Runner whom nobody really likes, stares ever wide-eyed at the audience he addresses, and for all it’s worth you can hear under his breath: “can you morons understand these simple sentences?”

Yeah, actually they can Mitt, and well, they really don’t like you. Can you understand that?

Noam Chomsky writes a very interesting and provocative piece in the Boston Review about the role of the intellectual in today’s murky moral world. He is prompted by the questionable action of murdering Osama Bin Laden and dumping his body at sea without trial.

It’s a most serious read, but one that will benefit you. We seldom spend the time we should thinking of the hard issues.

Michele “damn you Ricky” Bachmann is shakin’ up the team. Ed Rollins is out due to “health” reasons as well as the deputy David Polyansky.

This kinda crap is usual in a campaign going down the crapper. But Michele, it ain’t gonna help. You are simply TeaNutz® lite compared to Ricky “I’m more nutz” Perry.

DCMartin gives us a good old slappin’ story about racism reaction gone amuck. And she has designated herself as the “official spokesperson” for Black America, which sure makes it easy on me. :P

Go give it a read. She’s very funny and actually makes a fine point as well. Don’t ever Pass the Doucheys. . .”

I was prompted to visit a site I’ve only briefly looked at. Conservapedia. It’s the “trustworthy” encyclopedia. Isn’t that just wrong on its face? How can something that purports to be “conservative” by “trustworthy”? It’s clearly not giving truth, but a point of view.

My favorite quote from the front page is from Isaiah Berlin:

“Good government in a free society keeps positive and negative liberty in balance. These two forms of liberty are out-of-balance today.”

Now that is interesting isn’t it? I betcha some wacko TeaNutz® would have some interesting ideas of what “negative liberty” are. 

From “Constant Comment”


Hey, have you ever seen Wilfred? You should. It’s hysterical at times, frightening occasionally. It’s an import from Australia. It is not for the faint of heart. It is not for mortifiable-prone evangelicals. It’s about a dog named Wilfred, who appears as a human in a dog suit to a neighbor. Wilfred teaches lessons, and humps stuffed animals, and smokes pot by the pail full.

I thought it would be stupid. But it’s shocking, and funny at the same time. Try to find it on your TV dial. Oh crap, that dated me. TV’s don’t have dials any more.

Laters gators!



Whose Reality You Talkin’ ‘Bout Willis?

Saturday night was Depp night in the Peyton household. A fairly old (1995)romp with Faye Dunaway and Brando was a perfect end to the day. I don’t think the movie ever got much acclaim, but I sure liked it. It was amusing, and beautiful eye candy to boot.

Brando plays an aging and retiring psychiatrist who is drawn to help Depp, a young man functioning under the dilusion that he is Don Juan. In the end, we find that Brando is the one who is “cured” and Depp lives on in his fantasy.

It raises the very interesting question of “whose reality is it?” Depp’s character seems fairly sane and functional, and no one can deny he is having a great time pleasuring women who cannot stop smiling following their encounter with him.

The clearly sane psychiatrist learns that there is more to life than literal reality. Love, Depp teaches him, is what makes life worth living. Without it, life is but a series of events.

In the end, we are never quite sure whether Don Juan is the real deal or not, and frankly it doesn’t matter. Brando terms the ending scene “our fable” suggesting of course that Don Juan is really John Arnold DeMarco. Yet he is also making a statement that it’s not necessarily a mental illness to operate under a thoroughly erroneous reality. It may in part be dictated by whether deep down the person knows of their “delusion.” Perhaps, we learn, it may be an effective and appropriate treatment plan.

So next time you find yourself daydreaming in some fantastical dream life (mine involves a multimillion dollar estate on the beach in Oahu, with the Contrarian I might add), don’t feel that tinge of guilt that you are being silly or worse. You might just be doing what needs be done to retain your mental health.

I wonder if the average American, who I don’t esteem as being all that bright when you get right down to it, will figure out why the economy is stalled.

I suspect, given all the reading I’ve done, that mostly it’s due to Republican intransigence. We no longer duke it out and then congratulate the winner, getting on then with the business of governing. No. We no longer do that.

We whine and snivel about why we lost, about the dirty tricks and underhanded lies of the opposition and we convince ourselves that all hell will descend if we don’t retrieve the golden ring of control the next go around.

Republicans are geniuses at this. They simply dig in, complain that all that is wrong is due to the other party, and then refuse to budge one millimeter on any issue, even those that they had previously supported.

This is largely what is behind the recent breakdown in negotiations led by Vice-President Biden on the debt and budgetary issues. While Democrats have agreed to lots and lots (trillions) of spending cuts, the GOP walked away from the table again declaring that under no circumstances will they even discuss revenue issues. Even when we are talking about removing some tax breaks for those making over half a mil, they balk.

Worse, they are now refusing to even consider something many of them once championed: the removal of a tax loophole (an accounting mechanism) that saves billions each year for industry, mostly big oil and gas interests. This particular loophole called LIFO (last in first out), is disallowed internationally, but the GOP refuses to even consider removing it now.

This economy must fail for them to have a chance in 2012 and they know it. They rant on with their idiotic rhetoric that somehow debt reduction by increased revenues is no good, while cutting the hearts out of the working class in every way known to humanity is, all the while protecting at all costs big business in their continuing rape of America.

We caught part of the interview on CBS Sunday morning with Scheiffer and Bachmann. She was asked a few hard questions, mostly of her own bizarre and outlandish statements. She avoided answering them all, saying that the issues were about Obama and his utter incompetence and lack of any understanding about economic issues.

While amusing, the Contrarian pointed out that one Sharron Engle deflected questions about her nutzy remarks over and over again, by claiming the election was all about Harry Reid and his horrid ability to do the job.

What these two morons miss is that in the end, it is about them. Do we stay with the one we already know, or do we trade in for a new model. Most new buyers want to test drive the new car before they buy it. If Bachmann thinks she can win while dodging why she claimed the Lion King was gay-subversion, among many of her more famous weirdisms,  she has another thing coming her way than a win in 2012.

Checking My Watch Every Two Minutes

I don’t know about you, but here in the Peyton household, we could barely sleep last night. I mean, we are soooo excited.

First thing we did was take a shower–in the morning no less.

It was hard to decide what to wear. We couldn’t figure out if we should wear our “Sunday best” or just regular clothes. Heck we don’t know if our clothes will be coming with us.

We settled on dressing neatly and cleanly, but without too much fuss. I have been told that glorified bodies are not fat or thin so, heck my clothes might fall off. I clipped in a few safety pins just in case.

We bathed the dogs yesterday. Boy did they NOT like that. And Brandy is none too happy about the collar either, but we figured they should be leashed. I mean it’s likely to be pretty crowded at first, and we don’t want to be separated. The cats  have already been put in carriers. You know how they can tend to “disappear” at the last minute, and we don’t want to lose track of them either.

Pastor Harold Camping was none to informative frankly about the “little things”. I mean, I have no idea what the weather will be like. I assume there will be seasons, but I don’t know for sure. It seems God would not be unkind to all those snowboarders and NEVER let them have snow again. I’m taking a sweater, and hope that will be enough.

I can’t decide whether we should take a bible or not, and really don’t know which translation! I am torn between the New Revised Standard Version or The New Jerusalem. But the Contrarian (I guess I probably won’t be calling him THAT much longer) thinks we should take the good old KJV.

The whole idea of books is quite a problem. I just hate leaving mine behind. I suppose God has quite the library though, and so maybe it won’t be so bad. But I am fussy, and well, I can only borrow.

Which brings up the whole NFL thing. I mean the Contrarian is adamant that we request a mansion with NFL cable, so he can watch the Packer’s games. I keep reminding him of course that there won’t be anymore football to watch on TV. For heaven sakes, it stands to reason that MOST of the NFL players won’t be qualifyin’ and coming up with us. And I figure trying to play football in white robes is gonna be messy. Imagine all those grass stains?

Then of course, he reminded me that the same could be said of most of my favorite actors and such. No more Desperate Housewives! And of course, given what we read in the tabloids, most of them will be “left behind” as they say. (I been praying all day that God spares Johnny Depp for me!)

As I said, we didn’t sleep much last night. Had to umm, errr, well, there isn’t gonna be any more of THAT in heaven, or so I’ve been led to believe. That is a bit of a bummer. But the alternative as they also say, is, well, let’s not go there.

So far, we haven’t heard any news of earthquakes. They are supposed to start worldwide at 6 p.m. I thought that was local time, so I figured by now there would be reports of them from the east and of course seeing people flying up into the clouds. Maybe the unfortunates are too sad to relate that they’ve been left, or too busy dodging brimstone. No doubt we’ll find out everything as soon as we land.

I assume we’ll be loaded on busses and transported to our apartments. Truthfully, I’d rather have a yard. People who bring pets might get yards. That would be nice. Do animals poop in heaven? Now that’s a question isn’t it? I don’t rightly know. Do you?

I just want to make sure I get a really nice kitchen. I so love to cook, and can’t wait to make a nice paella. I sure hope we don’t have to eat a lot of ambrosia. I mean some is okay, but frankly I prefer chocolate chip cookies.

I’m also wondering when we meet all the “loved” ones who have passed ahead of us. I guess maybe our new “mansions” will have phone books and we can just look them up. Of course, it’s gonna be a bit messy, blending these two families. I wonder how the Contrarian’s dad will like mine? And His mom? How do they do that two husbandy thing I wonder? I plan on making a big old bowl of my prize-winning (well if I ever entered it, it would have won) potato salad. I wonder if they have charcoal? Maybe everyone uses gas grills?

Oh, whew, just about forgot to get my very favorite earrings! I This is so stressful! I mean, should we take a carry-on? Or would that now be a carry-up?

I really don’t know what kind of work we will be expected to do there. I mean I guess we’ll all just automatically “know” the bible, so I can hardly do my studies any more. Nurses and doctors and folks like that are no longer needed. What will they do? I guess I could work part-time at Burger King. I prefer Burger King to McDonald’s, in case someone is keeping track.

Do we get wings? Will we have replicators? I mean on the Enterprise, they really couldn’t do without them. I don’t think we should have to either.

Well, it’s getting on to the afternoon. We are watching some movies, just in case we can’t get our favorites at the heavenly Blockbuster.

Hey, after you get settled, (assuming you are saved of course), look us up. That’s Peyton with an E. And if we don’t hear from ya, well, ya know, we will feel bad. Ya probably won’t feel a thing, at first at least. There is that eternity thing unfortunately. Trust that we will feel bad for ya on the anniversary date March 21, 2011!

Take that Mayan wannabes!

Beck Criticizes Johnny Depp: Iowa Woman Declares War

It’s best not to get between a woman and her fantasy. If ya know what I mean.

Glenn Beck, perennial wackadoodle has gone and done it.

Glenn has been so god-awful crazy in the last few days with his Caliphate this and that, that, well, I thought to stop in for a small dose. Just to remind myself of just how SANE I am in comparison.

Well, he was frothing at the mouth, as you might expect–about the usual crap. And then he just up and says,

“We don’t need any Johnnnnny Depp telling us how we have to be here in America.” He babbled on about other “Hollywood” types. It was all fairly unintelligible, but he came back to it about three times. “No Johnny Depp and his ‘we need to be more like France’ bullshit–excuse my French.”

I have no idea what Beck was alluding to, but I’m sure that it had to do with some of the anal attitudes we cling to about social issues that leave the rest of the world wondering when we will ever grow up.

In any event, game on Beck. The only thing awaiting you is a full chapter in the next textbook on abnormal psychology, “disordered personalities.”

Enuf time wasted on the mentally unstable.


Well, Egypt finally did it. Got rid of Mubarak. I sure wish them well. I hope they get free elections and can institute the form of government that they wish.


Is anyone as nauseated with Tim Pawlenty as I am? He went from being a sort of nobody, to trying to be somebody by playing to the far right. He’s been palin’ around with Bryan Fischer, awful human being, and now he’s trying to “talk foreign policy” as if he knows anything about that!It seems his theory is much like Dubya’s, “might makes right.” How utterly Neanderthal. Another entry from MinneSOTA best left unheard.


Course, if you watch Foxy crap which I know you don’t or Glenn Beck (more than five minutes will cause ear cancer), you are probably really unaware of what the Muslim Brotherhood is all about. There is a lengthy, but very informative article at AlterNet that can set you straight.


Okay, it’s Saturday, the sun is not shining, but it’s 34° and so the snow, she’s a meltin’. What to do tomorrow with no football? Still a month from March  Madness. Watched “Despicable Me” last night. Was cute.

See ya.