Random Acts of Weirdness

Well That Explains A Lot – I’ve asked myself time and time again how the hell the Crawford Crapweasel could get elected – TWICE! Now it appears there is a scientifically verifiable answer.

Somebody’s Been in the Radiation Container Again – I think seeing this is what prompted the Religious Right to work out that whole Creationism thing. I guess they figured Darwinism was just too scary.

Have a Nice Day – I think this guy had a bad experience with the Walmart smiley face.

Not Your Kid’s Stuffed Animal – You saw them on CSI, now delve into the crazy world of “The Furries“.

What’s the Buzz? – Somehow this is oddly compelling, but for the life of me, I have no idea why.

Hitler Was a Big Fat Pootiehead – Bed wetter, drug addict, and man with a single gonad. As Adolph and Shrub show, you really don’t have to have much goin’ for you to become the consummate dictator.

Go Slugs!The mascot for the University of California at Santa Cruz is a banana slug, yet he doesn’t show up anywhere on this list. Odd, but true.

Is This Chicken of the Sea? – Apparently Jessica Simpson knows as much about dating a she does about canned tuna. Behold as the light over her head comes on.

Pet Rock Redux – Sticks and stones can break my bones, but not if they’re really soft and expensive.

It’s a Bitch Getting Older – Now I know what they all do down at Kryptonite Kabin, the assisted living home for super heroes.

Blonde Ambition – It must be a bitch to take the drapes to Supercuts to have them hemmed. And if that’s not hairy enough, try this or this on for size.

Take That You Evil Troll! – Video games are apparently not as relaxing as some people think.

OH NO! Mikey Feel in the Toilet Again! – It’s hell trying to clean up a rug rat who’s been on the toilet floor, just ask Ubermilf Britney Spears.

Home on the Range – Home, home on the raaaaaange, where the aardvark and jackalope plaaaaaay!

Spyin’ on You – So this is how Robert Gates got picked for CIA Director.

The Facts of Life – The folks at Planned Parenthood have chipped in to develop a sex guide (NSFW) that even asshat virgin evangelicals can understand.

The F-Word – We got yer L-Words, N-Words, and F-Words (NSFW).

Random Acts of Destruction – Anime. Bicycles. Cars. What could go wrong?

The Case for AnorexiaWatching these people is just enough to make you lose your lunch.

The Pants Whisperer – Somehow, this (NSFW) just makes me all tingly down there.

Hunka, Hunka, Creamy ChocolateElvis sighted in Hershey, PA!

In the NAAAAAVEEEE, In the NAAAAAVEEEE! – Put another swabbie on the barbie mate!

Stuffin’ It – Is that a sock in your pocket or are you just glad to see her?

Land of the Waking UglyZombie discrimination, film at 11!

Did the Earth Move for You? – “A commotion of grunts and squeaks, flashing unconnected images and explosions of a million little particles.”

Devil Yes. Silver-Tongued? Not So Much

For a man so poorly spoken, Commandante Blockhead has a penchant for building his own private lexicon. For months now, talking heads have debated BushCo’s extreme aversion to the term “civil war”. There’s been incessant discussion over whether we’re “teetering on the brink”, “weeks away from”, or already in a “deepening civil war“.

Of course, it’s not the first time the country has faced such weighty matters of lexicography. We’ve debated words like “incursion”, “police action”, and “low intensity warfare” plenty of times before, but they’ve always amounted to the same thing – something other than the raging war du jour to talk about. Think of these discussions as the linguistic equivalent of a tiresome debate over the merits of a flag burning amendment – as worthless a discussion as there can be.

It seems to me that no matter whether it’s a looming civil war, full-scale civil war – or as Jon Stewart put it – a faith-based melee, the bullet that kills the poor sod who’s at the wrong place at the wrong time rips the skin in the same way. It makes the academic discussions over what to call the killing as moronic as they are. Imagine trying to define a specific amount a victim can be killed – “just a wee bit killed” or “eviscerated beyond belief. Either way, the victim is one unlucky sumbitch.

This weekend, the media apparently did a little soul searching and are tentatively coming out in favor of “civil war” to describe the War of Error. I can’t imagine that George Daniel Webster likes this turn of events. He’s clung to the idea that no “real” war was taking place as tightly as Leonardo Di Caprio clung to a life ring from the Titanic. Now that a “real” war has broken out how will he and his crack team of etymologists spin it?

Call in the Fightin’ 101st Keyboardists! These are battle conditions lads! Pass the malaprops and man the parapets! Tony Snow has one helluva snow job to shovel. Maybe he should call in Karen Hughes – you know – since the Arab world loves us so much now that her fine work as Ambassador of Confusion and Misinformation has so pacified them.

I expect they’ll continue to insist that the FUBAR in Falluja still isn’t a war, but just a sign that the insurgents are in the last throes of collapse. He and Sicky Dick can tell because they have those pesky A-rabs right where they want them, standing over us with their boots on our neck and a Kalishnakov to our temple. Speaking in Orwellian tongues is so natural to this crowd they long ago lost the sense of irony the words carry or care whether people believe them or not. So as the warlike whatchamacallit worsens, we’ll find the cabal down at the “liebary” looking up synonyms for all they’re worth, ready to blaze new trails in language and despair.

Sometimes it just makes you long for the days when language wasn’t a lead box to shield radioactive crapitude from the public discourse. Even Nixon called the break-in at the Watergate a break-in. People would have laughed his crooked ass off the public stage if he’d called it a “low-intensity, high-value intelligence incursion” – but not the Thesauri of Crawford. He gaze admiringly as so finely a turned phrase. He has no such compunction when it comes to hiding behind words. He’ll lay them on nice and thick, even if he can’t properly pronounce them.

It’s a good thing that Bush Library – an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one – is slated to be the largest and grandest of these Presidential Pyramids to Poppycock. It will have to hold lots and lots of words.

Even of none of them do make any sense.

As We See It: Poison Thine Enemies Edition