On August 5th, 2010, the President of the United States, Barack Obama celebrated his 49th birthday. We think*. Because Mr. Obama is the leader of the free world, with virtually unlimited resources at his disposal, we were unsure at first of what to get him.
Initially, we recalled that the President is a family man. What then, would be a better gift for a family man than a nice birthday dinner with his lovely wife and daughters? We had arranged for a private dinner at Chez L’ego in downtown D.C. Unfortunately, the First Lady was called out of town at the last minute for official first lady business. Oh well, she’s not really all that pleasant to be around anyway.
Plan B: Just Barry and the girls at Five Guys Burgers and Fries. Since the President is notorious for his difficulty making up his mind, we planned to close down all 22 restaurants in the D.C. area and hope for the best. Then we remembered that whole childhood-obesity thing… The best task-force begins at home, as they say. Also, Sasha went with Michelle. Oops.
In a last ditch effort to salvage this historic birthday (it is, of course, only the second time a black President of the United States has celebrated a birthday while in office – as far as we know, anyway**), we tried to arrange a trip for the remaining pieces of the First Family to jet to Chicago for time together in their old Hyde Park neighborhood. Ah, memories…
*Not a birther.
**Still not a birther.
My internet-fu is sometimes suspect, so I may be late to the party on this one. But if you have not yet seen these videos, you are missing what is quite possibly the most awesome thing on YouTube: Auto-tune the News. I think so, anyway.
Here are a couple of samples, but I suggest you watch them all:
In honor of this shining moment in American exceptionalism:
I bring you some Guam jokes.
“Guam never tips, even when on the business end of a Chuck Norris round-house.”
“Guam never tips. Sometimes it even ducks out on the bill.”
“Guam never tips, it just sticks its head into the ocean to hide from predators.”
“Guam never tips. It was founded by Weebles.”
“Guam never tips because its center of gravity is at THE EARTH’S CORE.”
(Cross-posted at my site.)
I heard on teh Interwebz that the Census Bureau had sent out letters telling citizens that the Census Bureau would be sending them Census forms. I got no letter. Do I really need to explain how this made me feel? The hurt, the embarrassment, the humiliation of not getting a letter? It was awful.
How am I supposed to know when my Census form is going to get here, if I don’t get a letter?
Everyone else got one. It isn’t right!
It isn’t fair.
So I called the Census Bureau Chicago office to ask when I’d get my letter telling me when my Census form was coming. Here is how that conversation went:
They referred me to the Springfield, IL office.
Bureaucracy! It’s a Byzantine nightmare of functionaries, mandarins, and stone-faced clerks refusing to help a poor citizen, each in turn claiming it’s not their job. No wonder there’s a deficit.
The anger was rising in me now. Others have calculated the cost to the government to mail out these letters, which I learned are called “Advance Letters”. Important as they are, alerting people that they will be receiving mail in the near future, that cost doesn’t matter to me. These are Constitutional matters. The future of the Republic hangs in the balance. Our town could lose parking meters.
But what about the cost to me? I don’t have a printing press or a Federal Reserve Magic Sliding Decimal Point Account. I’m having to spend my valuable time tracking down this stinking letter.
I called up the Springfield Office, and immediately got sent to Recruiting! I didn’t want a job, I wanted to know when my Advance Letter was coming, so I would know when my Census form would be coming.
Then the nice, overburdened lady explained, as if for the thousanth time, that this was just a letter saying the Census form was on its way. That it didn’t matter that I didn’t get one….
“IT DIDN’T MATTER”?
Her words stung me like a frozen whip, and not the dessert kind.
What am I, not as important as the people who did get a letter? Government arrogance, pure and simple. Well, arrogance and sloth.
I admit to losing my patience, and for that, I apologize. When I’m dealing with important, Constitutionally mandated activities, my line is pretty taut already. It doesn’t take much to set me off, I can tell you that.
In case readers want to know where their letters are, you may go to the Census.gov site and call your regional office yourself.
Oh, by the way: contrary to the “About one week from now” stated in the Advance Letters, the Census forms are coming out April 1. Figures.
A tumultuous firestorm erupted on the interwebs today, seriously altering the lives of 5-6 people. As I am responsible, I wished to share my thoughts on the matter.
First of all, exactly how am I responsible? Well, I touched the match to the powder-keg yesterday with this simple tweet to @badnabes. An hour and a half later, I was sleeping soundly in my bed, oblivious to the festering anger rumbling up through some dark, lonely corner of the internet.
But should I assume such blame? Should I worry myself into developing bleeding stomach ulcers? Let us examine this cry for help:
Someone tweeted at me yesterday in response to this post. The twitterer in question is a total stranger to me, someone who has never read my blog (and probably not many of my tweets) but for perhaps that post and a cursory skim of the front page here. This person has never tweeted “at” me, either publicly or privately, either; nor has this person ever “re-tweeted” me or linked to me in any way that I know of. In other words, like I said, a TOTAL stranger.
The assumptions in this first paragraph alone are so numerous they are almost overwhelming, but let’s look at two things in particular.
Was I tweeting in response to that post? I was not. I was, in fact, tweeting in response to the entirety of the website, which I rather like. It just so happened that the link in question led me to the site in the first place.
Am I a total stranger? I suppose by the standards laid out above, I am. But since @badnabes re-tweeted me earlier today and I, in turn, re-tweeted @badnabes, we are now at the very least acquaintances and quite possibly third cousins.
I also seemed to offend this former stranger by calling their gender into question, unaware as I was to this total stranger’s sex:
“Dogette” (as in “By Dogette” at the top of every post on this website) means I’m female. Also, my Twitter avatar is a female 50s-style housewife. Diabolically clever hidden clues as to my gender.
Until the crazed feminism was put on display, I was admittedly cautious to attach any specific label to this person. It is well documented that sexual predators prowl the internet posing as man, woman and beast. And while I noticed the author wrote under the pseudonym “Dogette,” I did not at the time associate that with “bitch.”
Which leads us now to the comment section of the post. The author’s cult-like following of spurned women was quick to jump to @badnabes/Dogette’s defense. They, too, seemed to share the sentiment that I had trampled the internet’s last great social tradition: never talk to strangers.
None of this is surprising, as I have never learned how to properly interact with women. Just ask my girlfriend.
All this being said, I am of a mind to accept this blame after all. Dogett’s abandonment issues have greatly touched my heart, and I will not ignore her/him/it. Though I am but a teeny-tiny, minuscule blogger I shall do my part to change this world, one irrational woman at a time.
I think I’ll even add her to my blogroll.
I run the risk of alienating some of my conservative readers with this post, but sometimes the right does something so absolutely monstrous…so execrable, hideous and downright repugnant…that I can not allow it to go unchecked.
I am speaking, of course, about this video (if you haven’t yet watched it, I will pause for a moment and allow you to do so):
Sorry about that.
Now I don’t know who these guys are, but aside from being birther lunatics they have no business making hip-hop music. Constitution Kate? I can’t even think up a joke for something so lame, and that pisses me off. It also looks like they put some money and effort into this, which makes it a little sad.
I’m all for turning Barack Obama into a one-termer, don’t get me wrong. But can we please see about accomplishing that while keeping our dignity intact?
Note to W.A.S.P.’s: Do not make rap videos.
An anonymous political underling of an unnamed candidate for a certain Senate primary race that shall remain nameless put together a theme song for the Demonsheep (that isn’t your screams).
I liked it. I added crummy video.
Enjoy. Or don’t.
See if I care.
Tonight at 9 p.m. pacific your immensely unfriendly neighborhood soul-eater will appear on BigHollywood contributor Larry O’Conner’s Internet Radio Show.
You can listen to the show here. May Carly Fiorina have mercy on your soul.
So there is a rumor going around that John Edwards has proposed to his baby’s momma.
I don’t particularly like rumors, so I am here to set the story straight. John Edwards is absolutely-100%-without-a-doubt engaged to Rielle Hunter. Allow me to provide my concrete evidence below:
- Consider the source. The National Enquirer may just be a supermarket aisle junk rag, marketed to lonely, middle-aged housewives who only buy the drivel in order to keep up with which soap starlet got impregnated by which sleezeball this week, but they are damned good at it. Besides, no respectable media outlet is remotely concerned with Edwards anymore, so they are all we’ve got.
- Rielle Hunter is just stupid enough to say yes. There are not many women in this country dumb enough to marry John Edwards now. She just might be. How many women do you know that would sleep with a married man, lie for him, have his baby, claim another man as the father, move in with the stunt daddy and his family, then drive 3000 miles to California with them while the real father goes on national TV to smear her and the newborn babe? Ok, granted. A lot. But she was supporting John Edwards for President, so I still submit her lack of rational thought as exhibit B.
- He denies it. As history has taught us numerous times, everything John Edwards says is a lie. Had Edwards released a statement saying that he and Ms. Hunter were getting married in the Bahamas next week, I would have rightly assumed that he was traveling to Mexico with a gay lover.
In conclusion, there should no longer be any doubt in anyone’s mind that John Edwards is marrying Rielle Hunter. There should also no longer be anyone that cares.
Greetings, doomed children. It is I, Demonsheep. As I proved in my debut, I am willing to do anything for money. I have recently been hired to blog for this site, and as blogs (along with most everything on the internet) originated from Hell, I accepted.
But enough of that. Gather around Auntie-uncle Demonsheep and hear my…what’s that? Why yes, I did say Auntie-uncle. It is common knowledge that demons are hermaphrodites. There are but two demons who are gender-specific: the Succubus is fully male (I am sure that will disturb a lot of World of Warcraft nerds), and this one is a lesbian.
Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes…my story.
I was formed in the fiery depths of Gehenna. From molten rock and unpaid debts I began to take shape. I recall very clearly looking up at my maker and hearing the words, “Rise and go forth! Collect my due and devour their pocketbooks!”
I was given the name FCINO, which only the most skilled warlock can utter without the aid of multiple tongues.
But life was not easy in Hades. Among the monstrous brutes with sinister horns and vicious teeth was me. My fur looked like a cheap camel-skin burka. My D-battery powered LED eyes struck fear in no one. Roaming Hell asking sheepishly for taxes to spend on useless public works (like unleashing Heidi Montag on the Earth) was most often met with nothing but scornful laughter.
Finally, I was free to traverse your rolling pastures, grazing on normal sheep and stray farm children. My power over you insolent mortals grew with every tax dollar that went to a job “created or saved.”
Who knows what the future holds for you now, foolish humans? I only know that you will not be able to afford it.
The left is climaxing over Sarah Palin writing a few crib notes on her hand. They have finally found the evidence they need to convince America that a woman is too stupid to be President.
I won’t go so far as to claim that they are stupid, but women do have a lot of things clogging up their pretty little heads.
And I’m not just talking about making babies here. Oh, no. If that were all, there would be no problem with someone like Palin engaging in something so manly as politics. Today’s female has a multitude of pressing issues on her mind:
There is obviously no need to go into the various substantive issues of Palin’s speech. She is a woman. And not even an acceptable, bra-burning feminist. The fact that a housewife from Alaska can even write on her hand is surprising in itself. Consider that she can also read from it, and it is not hard to understand why liberals were shocked.
By the way, welcome to knifework.net