I shall call this the Tea Party Dome Scandal.
Tag Archives: government
Cut off my finger to spite my face
Can a government be completely “fired” for gross negligence and mismanagement, as if tens of thousands of sexual assaults in the military under your watch as Commander-in-chief wouldn’t be enough to get you fired in real life, let alone all the other CYA speeches of those in charge? God, what a fecking joke!
I had ignored my parents’ plea to not give any leeway to the current U.S. President because he is unfit for duty but now?! Well, Mom and Dad, your fears are justified. Get this guy out of office before he becomes a total international laughingstock.
This is so much fun! Feel free not to join me in having a field day guffawing at the tragicomedy that governments around the world have become.
I am gladly losing my mind, letting my thoughts run amok in the muck of readymade yellow journalism handed to us by the government officeholders themselves!
Pardon me while I split my side with laughter.
My tears of unfettered joy are better than throwing pebbles in the pond. Pitter-patter patterns of water fountains sprayed across the still waters like a hailstorm.
Hahahahahahahahaha
What do I care about reality or fantasy, phantasmagorical allegories about defunding national public radio and re-establishing the House UnAmerican Activities Committee to publicly accuse and convict the jesters on the throne?
If I die laughing now, I will have achieved my wildest dreams, seeing space colonies, “cities in a tin can,” circling Earth in preparation for Moon and Martian frontier towns, while having taken down, in my imagination at least, the so-called democratic government of the largest economy on this planet.
Let’s have a celebration.
“Party of one, please. A booth near the back of the restaurant. And bring me a list of your finest wines. I want to pretend I’ll be running up a tab I can’t pay, much like our legislators and executive branch government employees, either elected or hired through a faulty screening process.”
How about an interplanetary communication/research satellite battle?
Or a well-placed solar flare?
I knew a time would come when ruling the imaginary universe from this blog would get the best of me.
Either that or cat hair clogging the notebook computer cooling fan.
Power corrupts and absolute ownership of one’s power words corrupts absolute zero.
I could go seven years of no sex with my wife for the kind of mental exercise the latest media circus has put my thoughts through.
But, I’ve neglected Guinevere and what she’s been doing on Mars lately, haven’t I?
Guinevere, my dear, how does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row?
Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey: A kiddley divey too, wouldn’t you?
And so your garden grows!
I shall cry at the last scene of Les Miserables one more time.
Welcome!
Welcome to Amateur Hour at the White House. Our clowns on staff will be with you shortly…
My ancestors were hunting native Americans before Tennessee was a state. We’re not afraid to defend our country against the excesses of a government out of control.
Until more heads roll, let’s see how many scandals we can cause after these first rounds have had their full impact.
Song of the day
Radon gas in the homes, consulates and embassies of Russian diplomats?
With the raccoons flushed out of the attic, courtesy of oil-based insecticide spray, I spent part of the afternoon stapling wire mesh over the chewed-up holes of the eaves of the house.
I also sent a message to the folks at Dragon-X to expedite their development of human transportation devices for ISS ferrying duties so we can dump the Russian Soyuz tin can now that we’ve sung a song about it.
I’m tired of waiting on political idiots, who can be handed a set of keys to a car, told it contains the fingerprints and identifying motives/means of a murderers, but think the issue is the shape the keychain makes when thrown into a cup of tea leaves.
Pardon my French, but do these morons have their heads so far up their asses they can’t think straight?
They definitely need a butt light because they must’ve been drinking way too many Bud Lights at FBI buddy hangouts or political hack backwaters.
Fly me to the moon…please. Otherwise, I’ll keep playing with my yo-yo because, as you know, I’ve got the world on the string.
A nod to Branson’s flight attendant duties, Bill’s weepy remembrances of Steve and Jolie’s mastodon-sized story of a mastectomy.
As the Barack mobile grinds to a screeching halt, what are we going to do to keep the masses happy? Don’t forget the big picture despite the circus freak sideshows.
Fun, fun, fun, till your daddy took your T-bills away…
Can you guess how many more gun-toting conservatives will be slinging loaded rifles over their shoulders and marching on Washington? A lot more than Malvo and Muhammed, that’s for sure.
Holder better resign while he has an ounce of decency left on what’s left of the left.
Viva la revolucion!
Go after 2016 Republican presidential candidates and watch what happens!
This is just too much fun for one planet. Hillary, your dreams were dreamt dreamily, were they not? Go after the Haslams and you go after all us Tennesseans, who have the memories of elephants and the penmanship of writers. Go after writers-turned-journalists and it only goes downhill from here.
Bloomberg, spying is a cardinal sin, even in the Big Apple.
I thank the universe for this recent round of entertainment. May the dogs of wars have fun barking at the lunacy, sniffing at the taint of sin rubbed off on people too packed together to see they’re all wearing the emperour’s latest sartorial insanity.
Time to fly off the planet and join riotous revelers at the Billionaires Ball!
1984, revisited
The current administration no longer has my back, is no longer sexy, and has abused its authority, losing my trust. Happy trails! The tip of the iceberg just dropped its drawers and it ain’t a pretty sight. The laws on the books are blind, may justice see the light.
3D-printed objects may deliver hypnosis, poison pen letters, and many weapons of civility to the unsuspecting. Disruptions of the Boston and 9/11 kind are never delivered twice. One day, a plane, the next day, nails, any other day, gas, water and electricity.
My grandfather’s sea chest reminds to think outside of Pandora’s Box.
When is an egg not an egg? When it’s a nest egg.
When is a chicken not a chicken? When it fearlessly enters Syria unafraid to assert authority unilaterally like a visionary leader of U.S. historic proportions.
Why did King Tut have a beard? Because the prop department wanted to change the actor’s looks.
One question to go. The answer might just shock the whole planet awake.
Humpity Dumpity stuck his finger in the pie after pulling it out of the dyke…err, I mean dike
I admit I’m getting confused. With every new story coming out about the bumbling government’s overreach, I ask myself, will the real POTUS please stand up?:
Give me liberty or give me a dearth of bad comedy timing.
The final diagnosis
My father’s posthumous medical journey comes to an end, with a final diagnosis of “chronic sensory motor polyneuropathy with both axonal and demyelinating features,” as detailed below.
Thanks to the VA for processing the medical claim forms. Unfortunately for my mother, the claim was denied because Dad’s medical condition was not directly military service-connected.
treetrunkdings 