Gonzo As I See Him and How I'd Like to See Him

I couldn't resist messing with a news photo of Alberto "Torture Boy" Gonzalez and turning it into a rather artful (in my opinion) caricature. But I thought, you know, that it was somehow incomplete, as if Torture Boy really hadn't found his power spot at the Justice Department. With all the nasty revelations seeping out about GonzoGate, I suddenly could envision precisely where that power spot would be.

I think he looks quite properly in his place here, don't you?

On the Road to Capitalism

I guess I could plead that I've been woodshedding and that's why posting has been non-existent for a few weeks, so what the hell--I will plead that. You see, I realize that the key to any success in this market, any market, is branding. That's right--I've been developing Olaf as a brand. So I want to share four potential logos with you, and your votes will carry a great deal of weight.

Am I selling out to capitalism and the capitalists? Heh-heh-heh. Only Olaf knows.

Oh, and you can click on any one of the logos to get a larger version. Vote early, vote often.

Fearless Leader

I'm the Decider.
Mission Accomplished.
(Ain't I macho? I wonder if Angela Merkel's gonna serve that pig...)

Let's Cleanse the Palate

Jeez, that steaming pile is disturbing to look at, to be sure, but then I remember what prompted me to post it. However, to all of you, I apologize if your lunch was ruined. As a mea culpa, let me post some Citroen porno. Yeah, I know none of you share my love of these cars, but I saw one from the 1970s last week tooling down our main drag in town. This one pictured is a later model spotted in Prenzlauerberg (Berlin), but still wickedly seductive.

By the way, I may start uploading snippets of Olaf music, produced by the next big thing on the pop charts--Olaf Rotkohl and the Ratdogs. If you're into techno-reggae-trance-heavy metal-surf music, let me know. The Ratdogs will be pleased to hear you.

P.O.S., with apologies to Mr. Hanky

This single image summarizes the courage of the Democrats, the ethics, intelligence, and competence of the Republicans, and the ultimate destiny for this country without a major shift in the political tectonics.

If you don't concur, then read this piece on the "Cheney" Democrats. Shit.

Democrats: Party of Wimps

The reason I am a registered independent is because as much as I loathe the Republican Party for its arrogance, corruption, and incompetence, I equally loathe the Democrats for gutlessness. Just now I watched David Obey and Nancy Pelosi roll over and beg Chimpie not to beat them anymore. Disgusting.

The Democrats ought to be crucifying Bush and company for the catastrophe that they have created internationally and domestically, but instead they just grease their cheeks and grab their ankles--not because they have to, mind you, but only because its how they think an opposition fights.

Fuck you, Chimpie. And fuck you, Democratic Party. I hope you all burn in hell for all eternity.

The Last Thing Jerry Falwell Sees

Well, Mr. "Moral Majority"--I guess for you the debate is settled as to whether there is an afterlife.

Anne Coulter: Naked!

This explains a lot. I can't say that I'm surprised in the least, however.

Critical Moment in History Revisited and Revealed!

Was Olaf involved in the cover-up? How did Oliver Stone miss this one? To tell you the truth, I think I was only twelve years old at the time, so I'm as surprised as you at this newly discovered news photo from the Fort Worth Courier's archives. It's true that I had the goatee then--I was a bass clarinet student and idolized Eric Dolphy--but I don't remember being in Texas until some time later.

Of course, given the rash of alien abductions around here lately in the Southwest, particularly in the mountains (information about which is brutally suppressed), and the coincidental time and space displacements, anything is possible.

I've been given some mild scoldings about my failure to post in weeks, but I have to beg forgiveness for a couple of reasons. For one, I simply stand in awe at my own prowess at predicting the disasters that this administration would visit upon us, while simultaneously awed by the ability of these criminals to exceed even my worst imaginings. Looking back two years, I was then writing things that Mrs. Olaf and her family back East said were "too extreme" or at least "overstatements." I am now gratefully receiving the "You were right, we were wrong" admissions from that side of the clan, but it leaves only a taste of ash in my mouth. Watching the Republican "debate" tonight I am appalled to see that a whole new clutch of purveyors of stupidity and pandering is hoping to break the unprecedented Bush record of failure.

The second reason for not writing is that the urge to always include a photo or drawing has raised the bar for someone so visually uncreative as I, and frankly I just don't feel like lugging my camera around town. You see, it's an old Kodak digital unit, still quite capable but far too large and I just can't bring myself to spend $$$ on a new pocket-sized unit while this one still does the job. That's the trouble with being frugal and faithful to inanimate objects--a crippling neuroses to be sure.

Finally, my third excuse is that I have only a hazy memory of the last few weeks, and according to my sources, this in itself could be indication of alien abduction, particularly since I have vehemently denounced such claims as ridiculous fantasies of lonely souls or professional con artists. You see, my resistance to such ideas verifies them. Talk about your rhetorical fallacies!

But what if they're right? Is my DNA being spirited off to that other earthlike planet circling red dwarf sun Gliese 581? Do you realize that that would make me kind of a god there? Tres cool!

Anyway, I'll get my act together here in the next few days as I marshall my muses and furies to get back on that horse of vitriol and bombast.

So until the next posting--soon, soon, I promise--good night and sweet dreams.

A Small Fantasy

Oh, how I've come to love the music of Laura Veirs, even though Mrs. Olaf and I had to walk out of her performance at Tacheles in Berlin last August. You see, the club was about the size of your average living room, in what looked like a bombed-out cavern. There were so many people in the club that the temperature had risen 30 degrees above ambient, and yet even more people were coming in. We managed to grab a beer thanks to heroic mob plunging by yours truly, and then we stood for 45 minutes waiting for the opening act. More people surged in. The temperature got even higher. The only restroom lay on the far side of the space, and people were wedged up against the door. It was time for Laura Veirs.

Ms. Veirs and the Tortured Souls were late.

At last, after an hour and a half pressure cooking in that meat chamber, the band came on. Mrs. Olaf noted, "No fire suppression system in here." Did I mention that everyone, including us (out of self defense) was smoking? Although Mrs. Olaf is tall, she was squeezed in so tight that she could only catch glimpses of the stage. We were both drenched in sweat. More people squeezed in.

We lasted for two songs. I thought I would pass out. The air was blue and we were physically resisting attempts to reach the bar through us, until people were literally vaulting over the crowd to get a drink. I have never been in such a crush in my entire life. Somehow, through sheer determination, we pushed out through the mob and into the hallway, and thence into the cool summer evening.

"The 'Tortured Souls'?" Mrs. Olaf said. "How about the 'Tortured Audience'?"

And we both cracked up. We're just too old for that scene, and that's a shame because Ms. Veirs is a wonderful songwriter and a solid performer. It's just that this venue--compared to the previous evening when we'd sat in the Club b-flat, sipping single malt, beer chasers, and sitting within chatting distance of a fucking incredible quartet--was like a college exercise not unlike stuffing a Volkswagen that had been driven into a steam room.

But I still dig Laura Veirs, and someday, in my miserable fantasy existence, we're gigging together.

I still feel bad about leaving early. Sorry, Laura.

Happy Friday the 13th

Not a particularly auspicious day, I'd say. Good thing I've got a thick skull.

My Contribution to Global Warming

This is The Beast, which gets 14 mpg going uphill, downhill, loaded, empty, windward, leeward like some great constant of the Universe. Of course, it only gets driven two or three thousand miles per year, but I guess I've got some dues to pay. However, I have a question for the Bush administration whenever I fill the tank and it costs me $75.

How come gas isn't free, you assholes? I thought we were supposed to own the goddamned Middle East by now. And yet today a suicide bomber got into the Iraqi parliament in the Green Zone.

Meanwhile, Karl Rove seems to have misplaced his emails, and fellow boy genius architect of the Iraq War, Paul Wolfowitz, not satisfied with fucking up the military and relations with the rest of the world, aims to destroy even more of it through the World Bank.

In 231 years of U.S. history, I cannot find six consecutive years so filled with utter arrogance mixed thoroughly with absolute ignorance and expressed through total incompetence finely ground with dishonesty and corruption.

Mission accomplished.

When Is a Dick a Dick and not a Johnson?

One of my spies sent this in. I don't know the meaning of it, but it's worth a post.

Citroen Porn

Sorry about the hiatus, but I really haven't had much to say, partly because the insanity of the Bushits is so self-evident and partly because I've really not felt very witty or in the mood for biting, self-referential, bile-spewing rhetoric. Daisy (see previous post) was my editor-in-chief and primary muse--she was taciturn and quite economical with her comments, but when she voiced an opinion, it carried great weight. It's too, too quiet around here now.

So if you'll indulge me a little transitional period, I thought I'd share some of my favorite automobile pornography, which involves, naturally, Citroens. This little orange number struck me as a nearly perfect urban vehicle in terms of design. So far as I know, this model--the C3 Puriel--is not the greatest, mechanically speaking, and really, who needs a car in any city and country with good public transportation? Still, we're not likely to shift out of our American auto-addicted lifestyle soon, but using cute little bugs like this one could go a long way to cutting fuel use and restoring some fun to driving. And Dude, it's French.

No Friend More Loyal, None So Sweet Nor Kind

Daisy (1994-2007)

Rest in Peace

Hanging Chez Rotkohl

No peace, even at home. Sheesh.

A Tip for Ann Coulter

Inspired by Ann Coulter's remarks to applauding Republicans regarding John Edwards, I was going to write something about Ann Coulter, but I understand you have to go into rehab if you use the words "malignant cunt."

This sort of rhetorical trick is called praeteritio, in which you say something by saying you're not going to say it. For example, "Other people might call Ann Coulter a cancerous cadaverous cunt, but I wouldn't." Or, "I am not going to dignify those comments that Ann Coulter is a pus-filled running sore of a cunt."

See how it works? And Ann, you know you'd do a lot more good for the world if you'd work on your fellatio instead of your putrid praeteritio. God knows how your fellow fascistas could use some oral.

Walter Reed, Dick Cheney, and Scooter

The scandal at Walter Reed and in the care of veterans beyond inpatient status in the VA should not surprise anyone--it is yet another product of the utter incompetence of this administration. Given that Bush and Cheney both managed to avoid having to ever actually face these systems by evading their military obligations, it should come as no surprise that they are surprised to discover that the result of war is a long, long trail that far outlasts the memory of that war. My next-door neighbor had his spine severed in 1950 in the Korean War and has been wheelchair bound ever since. How many Americans even know there was a war on the Korean peninsula, or if they heard of it, how many could even give the dates for it? And yet John and veterans of that war and others who sacrificed life and limb and face the rest of their lives with injuries beyond most of our imaginations are our moral obligation for what we have asked of them.

Cheney had a blod clot today? He should have been put at the back of the VA queue for administration of his treatment, and that queue is currently a year deep. Bush had a growth on his face that needed removal and biopsy? Back of the queue, Jack. Congressman Shithead needs a rectal? End of the line until every fucking vet's case has been seen to first.

Unrealistic? Well, ask those vets with grave injuries who've waited as long as a year to receive their disability status, never mind payment.

Oh yeah--Scooter is guilty of felonies four time over. Time to flip on Cheney, Dude. He ain't worth one second of jail time. Think of your family, not to mention how happy we'd be to see Dickfuck sent up the river.

ITMFA

Both of 'em. Now.

Olaf's Workshop...and I'm Going Mad, I Fear

Let me get this straight--the Bush administration is funding Sunni and al Qaeda elements to reduce Shiite influence? Al Qaeda? If Seymour Hersh is right, this is the equivalent of the Iran-Contra affair combined with Watergate, only worse. Funneling money to the group responsible for 9/11? Jesus H. Christ--even I haven't been accused of anything that sick.

What the fuck is going on? And now Condi "Maximum Incompetence" Rice thinks Saddam was the equal of Hitler and that this fiasco in Iraq bears any resemblance to World War II?

Why isn't there a march on Washington?

Oh, the picture is of my bunker cum workshop where I hunker in the fetal position most days, glancing only briefly at my monitor to prevent head explosions. Just thought you'd like to picture me in my underground lair. I relocated here trying to cheer myself up after Chimpie's reelection, but it didn't do any good. He and his limitlessly incompetent and evil minions are still there. Maybe I'll go back to lining my cap with aluminum foil.

The vise and grinder are more useful than you can imagine. I've also got electrodes with nipple clamps, a bandsaw, a pre-1962 deep-fat fryer, and over two hundred pounds of reconstitutable chicken fat. Next project--periscope. If you've got any info on a WWII-vintage U-boat type, drop me a line. I'm also trying to get a good deal on bulk latex.