How to Ride a Dead Horse
In Ten Easy Lessons
What would the bloggity-sphere be without dead horses? Lib or Con, bark til you're hoarse moonbat or average white person. Today we embark on the tools necessary to straddle and giddyup, long past its expiration date ... equine flesh.
1) Choosing a mount
Perhaps a creature that no one agrees upon? [Or can't agree what they differ about (but still get quite excited or angry)]. Kind of a moving chameleon (as opposed to a stationary one). A/the sociopolitical Rorshach, from campaign hell?
Or 2) Letting the horse choose itself
Sometimes the horse o'dead begs to be ridden. In no uncertain terms. Screams out. Its' stink cries out for a saddle, boots, spurs and a crop [ride me b*tch!].
3) Silk selection
I don't recall ever meeting anyone whose favorite color is green. And .... I've only watched the ponies run a couple of times (and wagered only once as well). And last I checked this wasn't a horse racing blog (though I could be wrong?). So the finer points of garment determination rules escape my grasp (effendi/genuflection). But we're pretty sure green is a no no (white ... well, we're not so sure?).
4) Out of the gate
Hold on, keep those reins tight. And ... an aerodynamic pose is rumored to be helpful (regards top speed).
5) Don't forget to duck
Some will toss brickbats your way as you gallivant along. So this is an important lesson (but then you already knew that ... right?).
6) Don't get fancy
Stay focused [in this case it's the destination that counts (not the journey along the way)].
7) Look straight ahead
Don't be distracted by critics, naysayers or other assorted back seat drivers.
8) Even if others are telling you where to look?
Do not take your eyes off the front wheels of the rolling bus.
9) Crossing the finish line
Yippee .... wee! (You made it).
10) Collecting your bet
Sometimes a hug is nice. Me, I'm betting more an a few will need one, come the morning of November 5.
What a piece of work.
Reverend Jeremiah Wright. Whitey calls him on his wink wink/nudge nudge (ever so precious) cutesy pie racism (and of course on his planet orbital materiel). And rather than take a gander in the ole mirror on the wall. The good Rev. reaffirms his place in the dustbin of social and political discourse. And the Senator from Illinois? Loses one of contemporary history's great moments, and affirms that he is ... just a politician [albeit yes, a good one (November four will tell us if he is a great one)].
Then again ... maybe it was all just a Jooish plot?
Or was it racism?
Or perhaps both? ... Those F*cking Zionists!
In other news ... Baba Wawa is down with the hood.
Oond apparently ... Barry ain't?
Kumbaya my Lord ..... Kumbaya.
Even Berzerkeley gets some of that old timey religion (but they're not bitter!).
And what would a discussion of dead animals be (especially horses), without those masters of the universe, PETA weighing in?
Phew ... somebody wake me when this election is over (or at least until the next stanky pony comes along).
Saturday, May 10
What's a few states among friends?
(Hmmm ... if Johnnie Mac is "losing his bearings"? Then Barack seems to have lost his seals, bushings, and grease).
I really can't see Obama employing a harsh tone in this election and winning, against McCain. Though yep, I could be wrong.
But the NYT's get most all of it wrong. (And with a truly nasty stationary pop-up advert to boot). And I should be at least a little surprised ... but well. Making up the "news" is now pretty much the norm for the atomic press.
And derangement ... divorce from reality, is indeed not pretty (peace uber alles).
And so it goes .....
Monday, May 12
[Embedded Flashplayer console removed (Nov. 1, '08) because of browser misdirects and popups to/from Shoutfile.com. Below related text (now meaningless), simply remains (for quick and dirty convenience)].
The phones rings, it's 3 a.m. at the White House. Ahmadinejad is calling to congratulate his new bested bud, Barack, on winning the election. And the conversation goes maybe something like this?
Tuesday, May 13
And the sh*t storm begins in earnest
You blew it Barry, big time. You had a chance to ascend to the mountain, to call out racism as ugly. As base. As not worthy of our populace and society. And not a decoration or thread to be woven into its fabric. Instead? You equivocate, hedge, hem, haw. And look to your candidacy for method. Not a moral imperative. Of clarity, of concrete foundation. That we can all see, feel, know. Without thought, worry, or effort.
Now? The left (and their atomic news mouthpieces), in paralytic fear of losing the election, because of y o u r politic. Begin the ugly chant. Reducing this election to something less than. Maybe time for another display of saccharine eloquence methinks. Only this time .... perhaps get it right?
From today's Daily Kos.
Via this morning's Right Wing News.