Nov 12 2008
I used to bail out rented row boats with a coffee can
…and it doubled as a portable urinal on a long day of fishing out of Cos Cob, Port Jefferson, or Moriches. I remember one time my father reversed his 3.5 HP Mercury kicker near Whitestone Bridge and loosened the transom to where so much water was pouring in, I was bailing as fast as I could, and he spun the motor and ran it full throttle to keep the transom from falling off, and we managed to beach the thing before it sank. People fishing on a nearby jetty helped us pull the boat up on shore, and one of them drove over to a bait shop where my old man called the boat rental place, and eventually we got a ride back to our car in a big old Desoto. I always wanted to have a Desoto.
I assume if something similar happened today, Homeland Sekurity would blow us out of the water, bill our survivors for the expense of the mission and take that money and give it to someone who really needs it — like one of Fubar’s close personal friends in the phynancial industry or another of a number of phlakes who have done such a heckuva job during the past nearly eight years. You know, the Medal of Honor winners.
I read today that suspected don’t ask, don’t tell Treasury Tsarina Henrietta Paulson has decided not to use the $750 billion to buy any of the derivatives and funny-money mortgage paper that those who sold and left it behind at a great profit as their legacy to a bewildered nation of miserable phucks. Them rich folks has already retired to gated offshore communities to honor the blessings of Bush administration not-so-exuberant irrationality, having fooled the shamed people — who apparently live in many other places than Tennessee — again and again.
I assume Chromedome Paulson is trying to figure out a way to use the chump change Congress gave him to supplement the bonuses and severance packages that his buddies on Wall Street got for stewarding the nation’s economy from a record surplus and prosperity at the end of the Clinton administration to total ruin. Damn that Clinton! Apparently there is a also shortfall for the estimated $200 billion budgeted to build the Commemorative Bush League T-Ball presidential library expected to house his collection of My Pet Goat Japanese DVDs of Song of the South, and a bunch of top secret memos protected by executive privilege. There are also allegedly several computer monitors slated to be included in the library collection that a permanently obscure with green White Out.
I understand the plan is to recommission an aircraft carrier that will be called The Spirit of Mission Accomplished and house the book and assorted geegaws and doodads on the open ocean protected by the Fourth Fleet, assuming incoming President Biraq Obama approves the appropriation.
I agree that bailout money shouldn’t be used for the auto companies unless it involves transferring ownership of those companies to the workers who have been phucked repeatedly by management and ownership to prove how effective the free market can be. You can smell it, can’t you? Free market trickle-down economics used to be called tenement ammonia stank.
It’s hard to get angry about Paulsons’ machinations or getting Bernanked (that guy needs to become a verb, he’s such an incompetent tool for supply-side trickle-down urine dispensing), after watching the country rabidly eject itself into a cosmic toilet like wet fecal ejectamenta full of hot pepper through an inflamed sphincter of colonic bowel distress for most of my happy-go-lucky adult life.
I blame the liberal media for the sorry state we find ourselves in. You know the liberal media, like FOX and CNN and EIB? Those are the liberals who have shaped the destiny of this country for 20 years, and they are not about to let up now that a goddamn uppity hightone is about to become their president. They’ll continue to let you fool yourselves because they know that’s what you really want to do. Along with shopping to make the world safe from terrorrists and promote freedemocracy.
You lose someone in the war? Which war? Oh, that war. I forgot about that war. No wonder we’re not considered even the Less Than Grand Generation. They call us Boomers, which is a polite way of calling someone a loud and obnoxious fart who likes beer and football and yelling obscenities at anyone who might still have a shred of idealism slogging through his or her cholesterol clogged veins.
We don’t need no steenken bailouts, mange. We need a revolution. And then we need a revolution to fix that revolution.
The first step is to convince Sarah Palin that the country really needs an talentless airhead to lead it through this idiotic period of Paulist perils. When the going gets unpredictable, you really need an unpredictable leader. With Sarah positioning herself for a run in 2012, maybe enough humanists will get fed up and leave this country so it can accidentally nuke itself. In another 25,000 years, maybe some sane people will occupy the territory. That’s my best case scenario.
Until then, I’m not renting anymore rowboats, and I’m not supporting any goddamn bailout that doesn’t involve the actual blood sacrifice of the generation expected to pay for it. I don’t care who supports it.
