It's a neighborly day for my morningwood,
A neighborly day for my weenie,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?

I have always wanted to have a coed just like you,
I think I'll send my stiffy over the twattertubes.

So let's make the most of this digital day,
Since I'm the sender, we might as well say,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Don't you be my wiener.

Won't you please,
Won't you please,
Please don't you be my wiener.

Spoken: Hi digital wiener, I'm glad we're together again....

UPDATEx1 Deep Cut From Mr. Bingley

A new-found Beatles’ tune:

Long Island Wood

I followed a girl
And I should say
She followed me
She DM’d a thong
I sent her good
Long Island Wood

I took a suave photo:
A tent in my gray BVDs
But I clicked the wrong button
And gave it a public release

I stood on the steps
Feisty and stiff
Facing the Press
Attack, Attack! was my plan
And then I clashed
With Dana Bash

She kept asking that question
Unwilling to give me a pass
But I wouldn’t answer
And called her producer an “ass”

And when I awoke
I was alone
Huma had flown
So I Tweeted “friends”
Isn’t it good
Long Island Wood

Enoch_Root

AKA. Bobby Donn Brubaker (the most popular man in Mesa, AZ), the Umbrella of Terror, Jack Ketch.

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I think if we’re honest, we don’t want to face the fact that we share some of those unseemly characteristics.  We have the same tendencies to alienate, to push people away, and to isolate ourselves from a world we find incredibly annoying and stupid at times.  In all of us lies an old man yearning to scream out to the world, “HEY YOU KIDS, GET OFF MY LAWN! 

On Monday, March 7, I lost my 81 year old grandfather to a car accident in southern California.  I was in no respect close to him; I hadn’t seen him in over 20 years.  I know he loved his grandchildren (I still have the toy box he built for me when I was born) but for reasons that are both varied and extremely personal, I never made the effort to visit him even when I was in California as an adult.  As a kid growing up in Iowa, I was naturally closer to my grandparents in Des Moines than I was to the family in California.  In fact, I would say the overwhelming emotional response I’ve had this week is to remember how it felt losing my other grandpa 18 years ago.  I was much closer to Grandpa Snaqwells, whose name I carry, due as much to personality as geography.  But that doesn't excuse the lack of effort.

There are two lessons for me here.  First of all, I need to make more efforts to stay in touch with family.  I wish I’d been close enough to hurt more.  Second, I need to make the effort to not turn into the wrong grandfather.  While he was alone in his vehicle when he crashed, it’s the more substantial sort of alone that saddens me.  He had three children and five grandchildren; and I just don’t know how in touch he was with any of us.

Adam Wells

Living life at 84 mph and 7000 feet. All I ask is that you don't block traffic, act like a professional, and don't act all surprised when your actions have consequences. Oh, and don't complain about the refs; trust me, they don't care if your team wins or not.

Going Postal Never Felt So Good

A Wisconsin postal carrier delivering the mail in the nude who simply wanted to cheer up a woman on his mail rounds on Milwaukee's northside was killed Tuesday when he was struck by a refrigerator thrown from the building, a Milwaukee police spokeswoman said.

A police report says the man told the woman he would deliver the mail to her office in Whitefish Bay completely naked to make her laugh. The woman dared him to do it, so he reportedly took the dare Dec. 4 and brought the mail wearing only a smile. Initial reports indicated the victim apparently stepped into the path of the refrigerator as it fell from a fourth-floor porch to the ground, where the man was struck.

Nakedness! and Refrigerators!

Going Postile

I'm gettin' mail, and when I come back to you I'm goin' postile
Well, I'm gonna find a chick who's down, see how it feels goin' postile
I'm buck naked

I can strip down to my suit, I can make it super lewd goin' postile
I can stop in any place, invitin' postal union creeps, goin' postile
I'm buck naked!

Out in the woods or in the city
It's all the same to me
When I'm drivin' free the world's my home
When I'm postile
Hee-hoo, beep beep

Play the tape machine, making toast and tea when I'm postile
Well, I can lay in bed with only highway ahead when I'm mobile
Keep me movin'

Keep me movin', over fifty
Keep me groovin', just a hippy gypsy
Come on, move now, naked
I'm buck naked, yeah

Enoch_Root

AKA. Bobby Donn Brubaker (the most popular man in Mesa, AZ), the Umbrella of Terror, Jack Ketch.

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During the run up to Obama's election as POTUS, many folks lauded the potential for the One to usher in a New Era of Post-Partisanship in America.

Of course, at least half of us know a snake oil pitch when we hear/see one. And at least half of us can take some solace in having been keen enough to have called a spade a spade. I was one of these most insightful creatures... well, not really. Here's why: my initial take on Obama was that he was a charlatan. My initial take on his ascendancy from a real nobody (junior, freshman senator and all) to major party candidate was not based on merit... at least none that I could see. As the false flag operatives on the left (need I call out the safe thought media?) pushed harder and harder to portray him as an accomplished man of substance, I went from being called a cynic (which I can countenance)  to being called a racist (which I cannot). At that point I began to really explore what it was about the guy that repelled me. Lo and behold I found out more about The One than I needed to lend credence to my gut-check... namely that he was/is a true scumbag. And worse, a scumbag who has been propped up not in spite of the color of his skin or his ethnicity, but precisely because of it. But my impulse that I did not trust him or believe his words upon first hearing him speak was not without merit. My sense about him had nary to do with his color, but everything to do with his persona. And, like half of the country, it really bothered me. And, frankly, El Presidente turned me off from the moment he hit my radar - before I had even taken the time to peek behind the brand - or calculated mystique.  It seems to me, looking back, that I am still not a racist. I am still not a bigot. I know, I know... some people still hang their hat on the premise that disagreeing with a man, judging him by his actions and words and track record, means nothing if he happens to be Black. Or Halfrican-American. Because if you happen to be White, and the object of your misgivings happens to be half-Black, you are first a racist and then maybe a free-thinking person entitled to his opinion. Or, at least, that's sort of how I am given to believe the Rules go. You know, those Rules of Polite Society. You know, the Rules (albeit unwritten) which are meant to somehow promote diversity and free thought by constricting the free exchange of ideas. Being small-minded as I am, I haven't quite figured out how you get a duck born of a sheep... but it appears it is more than possible. Or so I am instructed. The Rules - you know the ones... that at least the really, really well-educated follow to the letter.  The ones that instruct their words (their thoughts?), so carefully policed they are in Polite Circles. The point is this: I still don't trust Obama. For obvious reasons. Some having to do with before he was enthroned - but many more reasons have I after two years of the New Era of Post-Partisanship. I must confess several things:

1) when I found he was from Chicago, my initial thought was that he was corrupt. Even before I knew anything about how corrupt he actually was/is. Was I wrong?

2) when I found out he was a member of Right Reverend Wright's congregation, my initial thought was he was a Marxist. Was I wrong?

3) when I heard the gushing of messianic star-fuc*ing from all points left of center, I thought to myself, "he is a prop"... an untested rookie being hoisted with great fervor by people seeking to convince me he actually possessed merit and gravitas... having none of his own that I could discern. Was I wrong?

4) the way he spoke when he lectured us. I thought to myself, "who is this self-righteous fu**? Oh God, no one is going to buy this..." I was right on the self-righteous count... but boy was I wrong about people seeing right through the suit.

5) when I saw the brand that was/is Obama, I thought... well, I knew. It is then I knew it was over for McCain. The empty suit - it was empty alright. But it was a Canali suit nonetheless. And really, who can fault Soros? Clearly a man who has the cash to purchase one. I also knew the suit was bought a paid for by others. I found this disconcerting. Was I wrong to have that impulse? Wrong to have that reaction?

I guess one could argue that Obama would become the Best American President Evah! And then there'd be no sense in writing this post. No, I would have written another one altogether. One that would have said, "you know, I was wrong. My gut-check was wrong." But I don't have to write that one, do I? That's because occasionally our "instinct" about something or someone - about the nature of that something or someone is dead on.

You see, it is not as if Chicago has a reputation for dirty politics for nothing. It is not as if the Right reverend Wright is not a Marxist. It is not as if there is no history of propped-up tools being elected to office with money rather than merit by people who know they will benefit from the puppet being so elevated. It is not as if I had no experience with being lectured by all manner of do-gooders who have escaped having to make their own way in this world. Mica Brezinski comes to mind... Paris Hilton also serves as a decent example. Academia as a whole is an entire industry wherein people get to live in a bubble, cloistered from all manner of challenges those of us who produce face every day. Finally, can any of us say that there is no power in brand? Is a Nike really that much better than a knock-off Nike? I mean is it impossible to reverse engineer a shoe? Branding works.

Proof of the Existence of God

Also in this issue: Wowsa for Friday! -- Eye Candy for Mens and Dykes alike! -->

So, to a very large extent, I possess perfectly legitimate experience informing my initial impulse about a creature like Obama. Granted, as I really took myself to task to educate myself about my instinctual misgivings, I found plenty to bolster my gut-check concerns. And, well, now I have two years of mystique in office to lean on. But my knee-jerk misgivings did not and do not come from nowhere. I have been on this planet long enough to know when to trust my instincts and when to waive them off. But have them I continue to do. What am I to do about these? I mean, I can no more prevent them than stop myself from blinking or breathing. So, really, am I culpable for them?

Juan Williams is a perfect example of a person I respect though disagree with on virtually every matter. He is a lefty who I can actually listen to. I find him insightful and fascinating. Unlike Alan Colmes, he is not a peg-boy. He is a free thinker. He is an honest man. Honest people can disagree. It is true.

I will not go into why I believe Juan was canned. Others can do that.

What I will do is say that, for what it is worth, I stand with him. What he did was a flagrant act of permitting us to see into his heart. He opened himself up. And it is somewhat amazing that those who claim to love honesty and transparency took the opportunity to put him to the stake for it. Dare I say lynch him for it.

I recently wrote a post about my own struggles with gut-check anxiety and misgivings to people and things Muslim. I did not write that for any purpose but to be candid. To be honest. But I do not feel guilty for those sentiments any more than I feel guilty when I blink. It isn't bigotry. It is reality and experience and my very own humanness which gives rise to these sentiments.

Thinking about how I feel about The Them, I am at once bothered by my inability to shake a very real sense of mistrust. Mistrust beyond not wanting to interact with The Them… mistrust in a defensive way. That is, it is not the fact that The Them are exotic to most every sensibility of mine. No. This mistrust is something different. It seems to come from a place which feels threatened. Like a man who is walking barefoot through knee-high grass in Rattlesnake Country. I mean to say, while I am bothered by the assault on our liberties that I do believe many an imam sees as the End Game, the feeling of imminent threat is similar to what a man feels before going into battle.

The problem with people is that they're people. I think that is something from Clemens.

But really? Canning Juan Williams for sharing his inmost being with us?

In this Post-Partisan Era, weren't we all promised that honest dialog would become the norm? And who was it that encouraged that very same meme?

You want Post-Partisan? I give you Juan Williams. You want Federally-Subsidized Thought-Control? I give you NPR.

Enoch_Root

AKA. Bobby Donn Brubaker (the most popular man in Mesa, AZ), the Umbrella of Terror, Jack Ketch.

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Hi, I'm Keith Olbermann. I specialize in being wrong and angry and annoying and meanspirited. I stink.

Tucker Carlson, you so crazy!  The Daily Caller has acquired KeithOlbermann.com.  I don't really know what it means either, except Keith Olbermann is going to be furious.

Update: Bipartisan sampling of internet commenters can't take a joke.  Keith Olbermann threatens legal action.  Maybe he'll finally take an interest in the Constitution.

Kill Truck

KillTruck is a wife, mother, blogger and native midwesterner now living in Eastern Washington state. She writes about politics, pop culture, parenting, wifing and a few other subjects she has no authority to write about. She has macabre fascinations with prostitution and/or cannibalism. In her free time she enjoys eating and/or drinking her feelings, liveblogging Lifetime movies, thinking about Scott Brown and mocking things she doesn’t understand.

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Story (video) here

The village of Eagle has since been informed that it should not hold it's breath for Federal Assistance, despite Governor Doyle declaring the area a State of Emergency. Because it's not coming.

The Village of Eagle, ravaged by a tornado last week that caused millions of dollars in damage, is ineligible for federal relief, according to Deputy Village Clerk Darlene Sterzinger.

Gov. Jim Doyle visited the village last week, declared a state of emergency, and said he was likely to request federal disaster relief.

The reason? Simple - the residents of Eagle, WI are too responsible.

...Sterzinger said the federal government requires a minimum number of uninsured victims and public property damage before awarding federal aid. Eagle has assessed that it does not meet minimum requirements, she said.

Oh. Ummm. I don't even know where to begin. So, lemme get this straight: there aren't enough homeowners who do not have insurance? I mean, the residents of Eagle have to foot the bill for their community being torn to hell because too many of them carry insurance? Wait. So, too many of the residents have insurance... and so the community doesn't qualify for Federal assistance? Hang on: so, had the peeps in New Orleans had sufficient insurance, they wouldn't have qualified for Federal Assistance? So there is an incentive to be... erm... I mean the Feds prefer, at least in terms of policy, to reward... irresponsibility?

Once again, shame on us who follow the rules and live responsibly. We are, alas, fools. Saps. Marks. Shame on us. When will the quaint people of Eagle, WI learn? The only way to benefit from the System is to job the System.

Right?

Right?

Is this thing on?

Yeah, that makes sense. To someone. Stupid Cheeseheads

Enoch_Root

AKA. Bobby Donn Brubaker (the most popular man in Mesa, AZ), the Umbrella of Terror, Jack Ketch.

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