Nutwatching on C-SPAN

Last night, by mistake I must admit, I stumbled on the meeting of the religious extremists, led by Rick Scarborough, who descended on Washington D.C. to raise up the country against a judiciary "run amok," in the words of Tom "Giant Flying Cockroach with a Crucifixion Complex" DeLay. Tommy couldn't be there live, of course, because he was "summoned" to attend the Pope's funeral. Actually, I think he is preparing to go into exile a la Baby Doc Duvalier. However, the Cockroach did send a video to awe the "the few dozen attendees at the conference." Oh, Tommy, have they abandoned you? Yes, exile is looking better and better.

In case you think expressions like "nutwatching" are overstating the case, get a load of this:

"I am in favor of impeachment," Michael Schwartz, chief of staff to Senator Tom Coburn, Republican of Oklahoma, said in a panel discussion on abortion, suggesting "mass impeachment" might be needed.

Now Tom Coburn, in case you aren't familiar with one of the nuttiest of the nuts, is the senator who thinks doctors who perform abortions should get the death penalty, even though he admits he has performed them in his practice as a physician. He also thinks that silicone breast implants make women healthier. Sorry, folks, he isn't practicing medicine for now.

Yes, these are people who should be making life and death decisions for us. Furthermore, from the NY Times:

Dr. Rick Scarborough, chief organizer of the conference, called on Congress "to protect us from an overactive judiciary," saying: "Right now they are ruling as an oligarchy. They are the kings of the land."

And therein lies the crux of the matter for Scarborough, DeLay, Coburn, et al. It isn't that they don't believe in oligarchies, but that they don't like it when they don't get to be the kings of the land. Thankfully, despite people like Coburn and the Cockroach having constituencies that think like them, they remain in the extreme minority, and are rightfully going to be relegated to the dark, fetid shadows of American life where they should have remained.

Martyr Complexes

The wacko wing of the Christian right has watched Mel Gibson's The Passion one too many times. They are now descending on D.C. to fight those "activist" judges:

"This is a response to a growing infringement by activist judges on people of faith and their right to acknowledge God," said [Rick] Scarborough, founder of Vision America, an organization that promotes Christian values in U.S. politics.

There's a "growing infringement" on their "right to acknowledge God"? Have we shut any churches down yet? Hell, are they even taxed? These idiots are desperate to be heroes, but there is really nothing to be heroic about. The First Amendment stands, they can worship and pray and handle snakes and speak in tongues until the Apocalypse and nobody really gives a shit. And that's what makes them nuts.

In a related development, my sources tell me that Tom "Giant Flying Cockroach" DeLay has been fitted for a loincloth and a rainforest mahogany cross, complete with gold-titanium alloy spikes for his upcoming crucifixion. He refuses to grow his hair or beard to be more Christlike, however. "I want to look pretty for the teevee," he said.

America Wakes Up?

From Susan Page in USA Today about American perceptions of who calls the shots in the Bushit administration:

By more than 2-to-1, 39%-18%, Americans say the “religious right” has too much influence in the Bush administration. That's a change from when the question was asked in CBS News/New York Times polls taken from 2001 to 2003. Then, approximately equal numbers said conservative Christians had too much and too little influence.

When overworked, underattentive America begins to notice the extremist nutwad religious faction acting too brazenly in the public arena, then we know we're in trouble. And, gratefully, at what may be the brink of a religious fascist takeover, the people are going to wake up and slap the bastards down, back to their tentshow snake oil shows on the fringe of rube culture, right where they belong.

DeLay's Insurance Policy

Somewhere in America, or maybe outside of our borders, there is a young woman waiting on a specific ringtone on her cellphone. When she hears that tone, she will gather up a fairly heavy backpack stuffed with large envelopes ready for posting, each addressed to a major media outlet in the United States. Inside each envelope is damning evidence: of payoffs, bribes, filthy deeds done, smears conducted, perjury committed, and perhaps much, much worse, all of it done and documented about members of the House, the Senate, and people in the White House. Sure, and there are Democrats whose asses are up for grabs in those envelopes as well, and no doubt some compliant reporters too.

Why aren't the Republicans more vigorously denouncing DeLay? Why aren't the Democrats attacking? Why isn't the media jumping into this shitpile like they did with Clinton's little blowjob?

Tom "Giant Flying Cockroach" DeLay has his cellphone in his hand at all times, with that young woman's number at the top of the display. His thumb is lightly touching the "Send" button. He will not get flushed down the sewer alone, that much his colleagues know...and fear.

It's going to be a glorious shitfest, a virtual revolution, perhaps. Let the bloodbath begin!

Here's Hoping That Our Prayers Are Answered

From the Washington Post piece on DeLay's Russian trip, and reported in many other outlets:

DeLay on March 18 portrayed criticism of his trips and close ties to lobbyists as the product of a conspiracy to "destroy the conservative movement" by attacking its leaders, such as himself. "This is a huge, nationwide, concerted effort to destroy everything we believe in," DeLay told supporters at the Family Research Council, a conservative Christian group.

Fuckin' A, Tommy, you goddamned cockroach. You got that right. Everything. Fuckin' A.

Bush and Rove Discilpline the Tribe

For Tom "Giant Flying Cockroach" DeLay, the ticking of the clock is feeling like a bash on the head with a large silver hammer. Americablog is the best place to start. I've been writing about this for too long by now, so I'll just offer this warning--if it looks too easy, it may be a Rove setup to gull attention away from something worse. Even if they do actually sacrifice the Bugman, it will be to mask something else. Rove is smart, and even if nothing was planned, he knows to use the cover of DeLay's destruction as a way to move some other issue under the radar.

Freedom through vigilance!

Good News for Falwell, Dobson, Robertson--Ha ha! Just Kidding. Is This What Killed the Pope?

Oh, to be a teenager again! According to (I kid you not) Backpage (no mention of anal sex practices, however--what a waste of a good name):

US teenagers apparently prefer oral sex as a safer and morally more acceptable alternative to intercourse, a possible explanation for their rare use of condoms, according to a small poll by the University of California.

God, how I admire the ingenuity and tenacity of the American teenager to work around those abstinence-only vows. And according to the Chinese News Agency Xinhua's report (made all the more delightfully salacious by a picture of red lips with protruding tongue next to the story), author and pediatrician Bonnie Halpern-Felsher has written,

Given the suggestion that adolescents do not view oral sex as sex and see oral sex as a way of preserving their virginity while still gaining intimacy and sexual pleasure, they are likely to interpret sexual health messages as referring to vaginal sex

So Bill Clinton was right! Fellatio and cunnilingus are technically not sex. Good ol' Bill. Who's laughing now, Mr. Kenneth Starr?

Tuning Out

I just can't take it. Terri Schiavo all the time, followed abruptly by the mega-Pope-athon, as if Ms. Schiavo hadn't existed. The way popular media picks up and drops issues reveals an attention span of a preverbal infant. And, of course, nothing requiring any actual analysis or thoughtful debate will be shown, so we watch a dizzying merry-go-round of relatively meaningless stories cycled so as to distract us from war, taxes, and the price of melons, which all do in fact affect the average citizen. The Terri Schiavo deathfest, the Pope orgy, and Michael Jackson are essentially meaningless exercises...well, meaningless unless you are a whore news agency quaking in terror at actually informing the citizenry of the moral, ethical, and fiscal bankruptcy of the national leadership.

Between the corruption of the Republicans and the equally corrupt gutlessness of the Democrats, we should be ripe for revolution. But so benumbed have we become by the endless parade of non-stories, that it's actually possible to kill 100,000 Iraqis, conduct systematic torture operations, lose 1540 American lives, all done for reasons proven to be absolute lies, and have that relegated to the back pages. No, what is vital news is the fact that the dead Pope will be dressed in a white cassock, a scarlet chasuble, and red silk shoes and that, according to Sylvia Poggioli of National Public Radio, the Pope appears quite serene.

No shit, Sylvia. Um, he's dead. Such is the state of journalism in these United States.

The Boot Descends on DeLay

The light is flicked on, and the Giant Flying Cockroach, Tom DeLay, scurries for cover, first under the Terri Schiavo feeding tube, and then under the bench of the judiciary. Neither was protection enough, and he next scrattled (love that verb!) across the hard lineoleum to flatten himself under a congressional inquiry of the Schiavo case. No good. Well, at least back in Sugarland, his constituents still love him for his values.

Or so he thought. Today, Zogby polls show that more Sugarlanders would vote against his renomination or reelection (45%) than still support him (38%). He stands suddenly frozen in the middle of the kitchen floor, the last cover rolled out from over him and all he sees is baseboard and two heavily shod feet. One waffle-soled boot is lifted high above him, its shadow suddenly eclipsing the flourescent overhead light that makes his rancid pallor even more yellowish.

And the wearer of this boot? Why, it's Dick Cheney! And, of course, where Dick stomps, little Georgie will be close by, clapping his little hands together and jumping for glee at the sadistic pleasure of watching DeLay's arthopod shell crack and press into the brown goosh the oozes onto floor and into the lugs of the bootsole.

"This is better than blowin' up frogs with firecrackers or electrocutin' them innocent people!" Georgie screams while he hops foot to foot in his dance of death. "Go Unka Dick! Stomp him! Stomp him!"

So much for the vaunted loyalty of the Bush clan.