Verbatim from today's blog:

What Kerry Should Say (Rude Version):

If, at tonight's "debate", when Kerry is asked, "What would you have done differently in Iraq?", he doesn't answer, "What the fuck kind of question is that, Jim? Jesus Christ, how many corpses of children need to be piled at the door of the White House to know that any reasonably well-trained terrier could do a better job managing this war than that motherfucker at the other podium? How many dead soldiers need to clog the pool at the 'ranch' in Crawford before anyone in this goddamned administration admits that things are more fucked-up than a thalidomide baby with warts? Here's what I would have fuckin' done different: Short answer - I wouldn't have fuckin' gone to Iraq, and if this squinty fuckface wants to accuse me of leaving Saddam Hussein in power, then he can fuckin' ask the mom of some kid blasted to shit by a roadside bomb if she gives a rat's ass whether or not Saddam's in power and Iraq is gonna have fake elections to prop up its fake ass government. Long answer? Yer askin' me a fantasy question, Jim, and if you wanna get into fantasy, here's my fuckin' fantasy - so get your wish-fulfillment bell ringin': I'd've gotten a large gay black man to get into William Rehnquist's shower back in late November 2000 and had him scare the Chief Justice into a coma with his raging black hard-on. I'd've fuckin' sent the SEC probin' Bush's asshole for evidence that he fucked over the shareholders of Harken. I'd've sent his fuckin' drunken, coked-out, duty-skippin' ass to Vietnam, where the men of his platoon would've used him for practice before raping the village girls in the Mekong. I'd've yanked down his pants at a Skull and Bones meeting and paddled his butt bright red with the wooden plank that had 'Bitch' carved in it so the word would be scarred on his ass forever. I'd've spiked pregnant Barbara Bush's drink with an abortifacient so she would eject the goo that would become George W in her womb. I'd've gotten George, Sr.'s nuts ripped off when he ejected from his fighter jet. I'd've made sure Prescott's dick was mustard gassed into disuse in the Meuse-Argonne. That's what I would have done differently in Iraq. Now, you little semi-conscious cuntface, get Karl Rove to shove a talking point up your ass about that or do you want me to make you suck my cock in front of a national audience?", then the debate will be worthless.

Ok, I seem to be over my funk and now I'm just pissy and bitter and annoyed with the world. You may ask how this is different from before, and I will tell you: before I was miserable, now I'm going to make other people miserable.

To begin:
Item 1

Just so all you people* on the weather channel know, "normalcy" is not a word. The phrase you are so desperately searching for is "normality".

"There is a sense of normality on the west coast of Florida as the hurricane shutters come off." Or "Now that the power is back across Port St. Lucie, you get a feeling of normality in this backwater shit hole."

Item 2

Picking a president should not be based on the concept of who looks like they might be fun to drink with. One of the commenters in my entry "The Devil Came Down to Florida" explained on her own web site that the reason she would support Dubya was because she thought John Kerry looked like Herman Munster and would probably bore her to death if they went out drinking, but that Dubya looked like he'd be fun.

Are you fucking kidding me with that shit? First of all, the POTUS is a tea-totaler and has been since he found Jesus. Secondly, unless you are a Jesus freak yourself, I can damn near guarantee that you won't be having any fun at all with one.

Secondly, if it comes down to that, I think that I would be more likely to be bored stiff by Dubya than Kerry, if only for the reason that I enjoy spirited debate and intellectual stimulation and I am pretty sure that the spoiled, intellectually deficit person known as Dubya would cause me to break down in frustrated tears after the first ten minutes.

Thirdly, shouldn't the President of the United States, the most powerful man in the free world be someone with an IQ higher than a fence post? Shouldn't your decision to elect someone to put their finger on the button be based on who has the wisdom not to push it in an attempt to bring on the second coming and the apocolypse and not necessarily in that order?

Item 3

What is with the bras that look like they are lined with Kevlar? If you are going to wear a padded bra, wear one, but at least pretend that they might be real. Those nippleless, stiff nose cones sticking out under the tight tee don't look even remotely like human female breasts and are even a little scarey.

I'm just saying.

* Are those people reallymeteorologists, or is that just a new term for TV weatherman?

And there's your proof. The devil and his brother handing out ice and water in hell.

I believe that there are signs from higher powers all around us, if we only look. For example, an ex-friend of mine insisted on getting married. She didn't care to whom, but she was particularly challenged by one man who very much did not want to marry her. She eventually wore him down, and they wed. They also divorced, not more than two years later, after having never lived together as man and wife, and after both had had affairs with lab assistants at their respective research labs.

We all told her that this was a bad idea, and even (if you believe in such an entity) God weighed in on the subject by:
1. On the arrival of her parents from Taiwan, they were robbed of all their money and the heirloom wedding jewelry. Between the cab and the front door of the hotel, a distance of not more than 10 feet, and of course nothing was ever recovered, and no one was ever charged with the crime.

2. The next day, someone at the bridal shower was contagious with one of the worst, most virulent flus anyone had ever seen. And the seafood salad may have been bad. The upshot was that most of the wedding party was puking and running 104 degree fevers right up until the wedding took place.

Coincidence or sign from above? You decide.

To bring this back to the photo at the top of this entry, consider this:

1. Both Jeb and Dubya insist that they serve by the preference of God. They both point constantly to the higher power that guides their decisions. Even Pat Robertson has decreed that Dubya is God's chosen leader for America.

2. Jeb had this to say about Hurricane Charley : "God doesn't follow the linear projections of computer models," the governor said outside the Punta Gorda emergency management center, whose roof caved in during the hurricane. "This is God's way of telling us that he's almighty and we're mortal."

3. Following that storm, Frances slogged across the state in the opposite direction, making a perfect "X" across the peninsula. Sort of crossing it out?

4. Now, Hurricane Ivan, stronger than the two that preceded it, is preparing to rip the state a new asshole.

Hubris? God's way of saying "Nuh-uh, don't be pinning your shit on me, Bushboys."? I think so. Yes, I do. I just wish that I wasn't in the way of that point being made.

I think. Maybe. Possibly. Who knows. I did go to the polls, I did sign in, and I did poke the touch-screen, which did light up appropriately. Whether or not that actually correlates to the recorded blip in the data stream is a matter for debate.

A debate, I am proud to say, that I had with the poll workers. I told them I wanted a paper trail. I told them that as someone who works all day, every day with computers, I no more trust them than I trust the lying sack of shit that is my ex-husband. Or the lying sack of shit that is the current President of the United States.

OK, I didn't really say that. I just said that I didn't trust the machines or the companies that make the machines.
As for the bread and circuses going on in New York City, the RLA wants to watch, so he knows what the enemy is doing. I can't watch it at all. I can't listen to NPR, or read the paper. The spin, and the lies, and the hate are too much for me.

I despair over my country. I have never been a flag-waving, my country right or wrong kind of American. I have hidden my face in shame at how we portray ourselves to the world. I am leery of what we pass off as culture. I've toyed with the thought of being an ex-patriot on any number of occasions in my life.

But. And it is a huge but. For all the faults that I see, for all the things that make me not exactly proud to be an American, I understand that this is the freest country in the free world. As someone with opinions and the big mouth to express them, I know that I am better off in America than anywhere else.

However, with this president and the religous right that controls him, I don't believe that any more. I don't think I'm safe here. Not from the enemies without, but from the enemies within.

I am a Jew. And I believe that the "Christian" (intolerant) right that is pulling the puppets strings have plans for me. I believe that those plans include box cars, or the modern equivalent. I believe that this war in the Middle East is very much a holy war, on both sides. I believe that Bush believes that he is driving us to the Apocolypse and that that is a good thing.

I don't know about you, but I don't think that's a good thing at all. So do me and the rest of the world a favor, and go out and vote.

I've put one of my quilts on e-bay as part of the MoveOn PAC virtual yard sale. Normally my work sells for hundreds of dollars, even the little guys like this adorable red, white and blue 1930s reproduction print baby quilt.


If you would like a chance to buy this quilt, it is currently on e-bay with a start price of only $25. Whatever the final sale price is, I will donate that money to MoveOn PAC.

There is only one day left on this auction, and so far, no bidders at all. This is a great opportunity to help dump Dubya, and buy one of my quilts for an insanely low price.

Take a peek at the auction.

The Rude Pundit is in rare form (even for him) this morning. Here's the first paragraph, after that, you should just follow the link and read the whole thing.

"Aww, yeah. It’s on now, motherfuckers, it's on now. Deciding that it was time to treat the Bush campaign like he treated whores in Saigon, John Kerry went to town on the President and the Swift Boat Vets for "Truth" in a speech yesterday to the International Association of Fire Fighters. In so many words, Kerry said, in essence, "Bitch, you talk smack about me, I'm gonna fuck you in the ass until you bleed. You wanna fuck with me? Don't send your attack poodles out - come at me like a man so I can turn you into the little bitch you are, you fuckin' deserter." Of course, nothing else Kerry said in that speech was reported, including promises to make up for the cuts in funding for new equipment that Bush has inflicted on fire fighters."

Some days, it's worth getting up, you know?

Other days, not so much. It looks like it's one of those other days in New York City, today (thanks to the Punk Princess for this):

"Mayor Michael Bloomberg, already under fire for his tough stance against anti-GOP protest groups, yesterday suggested that First Amendment rights of free speech and free assembly are "privileges" that could be lost if abused."

Excuse me? My constitutional rights are now privleges? Can you say "Fascist"? I knew you could. What an asshat. This is why I was leery of the POTUS's plans to move the military from abroad to stateside. It's hard to have a military takeover if your military is outside of the Fatherland, uh, Homeland.

Tromp. Tromp. Tromp. The sound of the jackboots in the streets.

This just in from the Kerry campaign:

"Tonight may be your only opportunity to ask George Bush a question before November's election. This is your chance to put him on the spot in front of an audience of millions.

George and Laura Bush will do an exclusive interview with Larry King on CNN at 9:00 p.m. EST. Unlike all of Bush's "Ask the President" events and Cheney's "Town Hall Meetings," where attendees either have to sign Bush-Cheney loyalty oaths or are handpicked by the Bush-Cheney campaign, this event is open to all Americans.

To call in, watch Larry King Live at 9:00 p.m. EST and call the number shown during the program. After you call in, please make sure to share your call-in experience with us. Click here to report.

To email your question before the show begins, click here. Please share the question you email to Larry King with us - we are tracking our supporters' success. Click here to report.

Our goal is to get as many Kerry-Edwards supporters to call in or send an email to Larry King Live as possible. We know that not everyone can get on the air, but the impression we'll make with our thousands of calls and emails will be a lasting one. With your help, everyone working for CNN - producers, writers, editors, and staffers - will realize that George Bush owes Americans a lot of answers:

What does Bush plan to do about the fact that 1.9 million Americans have lost their jobs under his rule? What does Bush plan to do about the fact that 44 million Americans don't have access to health insurance? And how does he expect our children and young people to shoulder a deficit that is already out of control? Or afford education? What is his plan for Iraq?"

I had a question for President Bush:

Have you ever actually read the constitution of the United States? And if so, did you understand it? Specifically the parts about freedom of speech and separation of church and state?

Thank you.

Kerrystock ended, and I feel good about my candidate. What made me happiest? Was it his one daughter identifying the core value of her father as "integrity"? Was it his speech? Was it his band of brothers, his Swift Boat crew, standing behind him? Was it that he truly is a war hero, and our war president is an AWOL dolt? Nope. None of that. It was that he entered the hall to the strains of "No Surrender." And it wasn't a cover version.

"Blood brothers in the stormy night with a vow to defend
No retreat, baby, no surrender."

The fact that Bruce hasn't issued a cease and desist is what makes me the happiest girl in the world.

Tonight is movie night at the Casa de Zapatos. We're having a special showing of "Bubba Ho-Tep", arguably one of the odder cult films of recent history. It stars Bruce Campbell (he of "Army of Darkness" fame) as Elvis Presley. In a nursing home. Fighting to save the residents (and his own soul) from the death kiss of a rogue mummy (the titular Bubba Ho-Tep). It co-stars the incomparable Ossie Davis, as JFK. It's a redemption story. It's a mystery. It's a horror story. It's a hoot.

I have been the recipient of some pretty nasty offers of some pretty nasty porn, coming in through the spam transom. But the names the spammers are using these days is so amusing, I have to share:

Monologging J. Fairies
Jubilation L. Bobbin

Oh, baby, baby, baby. I got a new political hottie: Barak Obama. Did you guys see him? Did you hear him? Oh. My. God. I have seen the future of rock and roll. Or politics, what ever.
He is the face, the true story of America. A first-generation born citizen, who lived the dream his grandparents set in motion. He is eloquent and passionate, and not afraid to say the things that need to be said, and that have been suppressed by political correctness for too, far too, long.

I loved him. I stood up in my living room and applauded. I cheered. I clapped. I believed in America again. Now, I just have to see if he actually wins his election.

And Teresa Heinz Kerry! Oh. My. God. The first (potential) first lady with actual flair and style since (dare I say this?) Jackie Kennedy. (Swoons) Did you see her stand-up collar? Her hair? She speaks five languages, which is five more than Bush. She's an (another bad word coming up) intellectual, God bless her little heart.

And that old, not-yet-toothless lion of liberals everywhere: Teddy Kennedy. He looked great, and not at all like a bloated parody of himself. He did the thing that only he can do: he invoked the words, the works and the spirits of his dead brothers. He contrasted the intelligence and noblesse oblige of those two men with the callowness and self interest of the current administration. And he can. Because he's the last one.

But wait, unless you readers have cable, you didn't see any of those things because the three major networks didn't show any of the Democratic Convention in prime time. They cite low ratings. They cite disinterest. They are remiss in their duty to the American people. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but sometimes exposure to raw information is more important than profit. (Try not to faint.)

So where is the liberal media bias the right keeps yawping about? If there really were a liberal media conspiracy, wouldn't the Democratic convention have been broadcast into sports bars and gyms everywhere? Wouldn't the spin be something other than Teresa Kerry told a pushy, asshole reporter to shove it? How come that makes her a bitch, but telling the Senate to go fuck themselves makes Dick Cheney a real man?

For the answer to that question, just listen to Ms. Heinz Kerry herself:

"My right to speak my mind, to have a voice, to be what some have called `opinionated,' is a right I deeply and profoundly cherish. My only hope is that, one day soon, women -- who have all earned the right to their opinions -- instead of being labeled opinionated, will be called smart or well-informed, just like men.''

The C-Span camera cut to Hillary Rodham Clinton at that moment, and on her face I read "oh, yeah, sistah, been there, done that, got enough t-shirts to make a fucking circus tent."

See you tonight on the couch, for day three of Kerrystock.

I have found my reality TV addiction. No, it isn't one of the scripted pieces of dreck on Fox, it is the C-Span coverage of the Democratic National Convention. No commercials. No commentary. No "fair and balanced" talking heads. Nope. Just pure convention, all talking, all the time.
I've loved watching the national conventions since I was just a Yellow Puppy.

Last night was some of the best stuff I've seen in years. It was wonderful to see Jimmy Carter (sounding, however, like his dentures were loose, or he'd just come from having a root canal) blasting the Bush policies of unilateralism and intolerance.

And my old flame, Al Gore. I'd seen Al speak in person way back in the old days, before he was anything other than a rising Young Democrat. I never understood why people thought he was stiff and humorless, except that is what the pundits decided during the last election cycle.

Last night he was funny, and eloquent, and yes, bitter about the last election. As well he should be. And he gave the people in Boston a direction for their own bitterness: Don't let this ever happen again. Don't let the Supreme Court ever select another President, and don't let this President select the next Supreme Court.

Like Al, I've never forgotten how Bush came to be in the White House. Nor have I lost my bitterness. It's a lot like my divorce. I had to remember all the hurt, and all the cruelty to maintain the fight. At the same time, I had to channel that energy outward, and not inward, so that, although the bitterness and resentment informed my actions, it did not change me into a bitter and resentful person.

And then we had Herself, Ms. Rodham Clinton. Wowza. I loved that she pointed out that SHE had been at Ground Zero on September 12th, unlike someone else, namely the duly appointed President of the United States. (Maybe he was still digesting the plot of My Pet Goat.)

The evening wrapped up with Bill, another reminder of my first marriage. I never cared much for Bill Clinton, because his personality was so much like the AntiChrist: slick, insincere, a survivor of childhood abuse, and over-driven because of it. Unlike the AntiChrist, though, Clinton was not a sociopath, and did honestly care about other people. His presidency was proof of that. Last night he was in rare form. In my opinion, it is Bill Clinton, and not Ronald Reagan, who should be remembered as The Great Communicator.

So yes, I was glued to the set by the spectacle of reality TV. I'll be there again tonight. And the night after that.

In closing, let me leave you with some quotes from great politicians of the past:

"I have always strenuously supported the right of every man to his own opinion, however different that opinion might be to mine. He who denies another this right makes a slave of himself to his present opinion, because he precludes himself the right of changing it." -- Thomas Paine, 1783

"Free speech exercised both individually and through a free press, is a necessity in any country where people are themselves free." -- Theodore Roosevelt, 1918

"The truth is found when men are free to pursue it." -- Franklin D. Roosevelt, 1936

"If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear." -- George Orwell, 1945

"Any time we deny any citizen the full exercise of his constitutional rights, we are weakening our own claim to them." -- Dwight David Eisenhower, 1963

"What is objectionable, what is dangerous about extremists is not that they are extreme, but that they are intolerant." -- Robert F. Kennedy, 1964

"Go fuck yourself." -- Dick Cheney, 2004

I saw a bumper sticker on the back of an FPL* truck this morning. Context is everything, y'know? This is what it said:

"Working people who vote Republican are like chickens who support Colonel Sanders."

And I have a rhetorical question for all those young'uns wearing their pants below their butt cracks: If they slide and you have to hold/pull them up (and I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. I, of all people, understand the pull of cool and how it is the overriding motivator of youth) why must you hold/pull directly over your nads? Huh? How come you can't grab the sides, why must you pull your pud in an effort to keep your pants up?

I'm just asking.

* Florida Power and Light, also known as Florida Plunder and Loot

Knowing my politics (pinko, liberal, yellow-dog democrat) many people have asked me if I've seen Fahrenheit 9-11. I have not. I don't know if I can. While I do have very stable, nay, even low, blood pressure, I'm afraid that seeing the list of Bush's sins laid out like an all-you-can-eat buffet will cause me to stroke out.
See, unlike most of the sheep that make up the American voting public, I never forgot the links in the chain of events that Michael Moore has strung together.

I remembered that Osama Bin Laden was a friend of America, back when it was the "Evil Empire" that was bogged down in Afghanistan, and Bin Laden was a freedom fighter.

I remembered that the Bush family business was oil, as was the Bin Laden family business, and that they did business with each other.

I remembered that Saddam Hussein was America's chosen one back when we were fighting the Iranians, and the Iraqis were our friends. But that was after we left the Shah of Iran twisting in the wind, after years of keeping him propped up.

I remembered that only one person on Capitol Hill had a son or daughter in the military.

I remembered that no one in the Bush administration actually served in Viet Nam. Or even in the military. Bush's own tenure in the National Guard was suspect, bought as it was with his father's connections, and cut short as it was by Dubya going AWOL.

I said from the very first day, that the Bushies knew and allowed the tragedy to happen in order to give them the "moral" imperative to go to war and conquer the oil fields.

Go see Fahrenheit 9-11? Yeah, probably... but bring the defibrillator with me.

I had a dream the other night. I was forced to go on a date with President George Bush. We were going to the opera. It was black tie. I didn't want to go with him, and kept protesting that he was already married, and so was I, and we were not wed to each other.
To no avail. I had to put on an evening gown and go. I was in my parent's house, but it had been appropriated as a temporary White House. The Bush women were ridiculing my mother's decorating. They stuck their heads in my bedroom and made loud noises about how this room certainly was NOT part of the official residence.

I told them that it was my childhood bedroom and off limits. Then I had to go into their area to put my makeup on in their bathroom. They didn't know how to turn the lights on and were only barely polite when I showed them where the switches were.

We (the President and I) finally got into the limo to go to the opera. Only it wasn't a limo, it was a Lincoln, and the POTUS was driving it himself. I was pissed because we were late and they were holding the curtain until we arrived. I felt that he was taking advantage of his position, and that the curtain shouldn't have been held.

When we finally got to the opera house, the POTUS had someone take off his overcoat, and I saw that he was only wearing a tux jacket, shirt and tie, and that from the waist down, he was dressed in jeans, boots and leather chaps. He then left me in the lobby to tip the help and pay for my own program.

I thought he was a major ass hole. By the time the opera was over, I had organized a demonstration in the lobby, and the crowd was chanting "Defeat Bush" when he came out.

End of dream.

This is what was driving through the hospital campus today while I was at lunch.



You can't see the writing on the side, so I'll include the literature they were handing out of the head pig.
"The largest pig shows the financial cost ($200 billion)1 of America's attack on Iraq, including the projected minimum cost of reconstruction.

The smaller pig illustrates the annual federal spending on K-12 education ($34 billion)2.

The wee little pig shows annual federal spending on reducing world hunger and poverty ($10 billion).3

For the same amount of money that we're spending on the war in Iraq, we could:

provide Head Start for all elibible kids,

provide Healthcare for all uninsured kids,

build 2,500 new elementary schools, and

reduce grades 1-3 class size to 15 students

for the next 5 years.

1) Eric Schmitt and Robert Pear, New York Times, Feb. 3, 2004. Also see Congressional Budget Office, "Estimated Costs of a Potential Conflict with Iraq," September 2002.
2) U.S. Budget, FY 2004
3) U.S. Budget, FY 2004

For more information, visit www.TrueMajority.org/pigs"

And just think, this was going to be a post about the lousy customer service offered up by Circuit City.

So the Republicans want to put Reagan on the ten dollar bill? Thanks, but, no.

Here's an idea, though, if they ramrod it through and make it so: boycott the ten.
Refuse to use it, sort of like the giant snore heard round the world (or at least the USA) when the Susan B. Anthony dollar coin tanked. Or the Sacagawea "gold" (colored) coin did likewise.

No, thanks, you'll say to cashiers and bank tellers. I'd rather have ten singles than a single Ronnie. I'll take my change in fives, please. Anything, a bag of fucking nickels rather than have that murdering, lying, xenophobic, two-bit actor in my pocket.

Or, if the Republicans insist on putting him on our currency, how about a denomination appropriate to the millionaire-courting man of the people (hah!) he was: the ten thousand?

Hmmm. A quick search on the US Treasury site reveals that the largest circulating bill is the $100. OK. Make the largest circulating bill the $500 and put Ronnie's mug on that. Works for me. I'll never see one.