posted by Bill Arnett @ 4:10 PM Permalink
…reader SkippyT who, as I was, was ripped off through some dipsh*t rip-off bunch of thieves operating out of Canada, making it impossible to stop the transaction, protest it, or do anything but get ripped off.
Skippt, who reports:
Skippy T has left a new comment on your post "A fraud warning for dvd buyers about DVDMEDIASTAR....":
I have also been ripped off by these jerks. 187 bucks. I will never get that back. The Bonanza DVD's I got was poor quality some didn't have sound and some froze. The TV station Icons wern't taken out and I didn't get all the episodes. Some episodes were labeled wrong and I got dupicate episodes. Not to mention some had comercials. Don't waste your money with these cons. Research the companies first when you want to buy their product. Amazon.com has the 1st season of Bonanza on DVD. Check it out before buying from these scamming jerks.
Posted by Skippy T to Vidiot Speak at 2:45 PM
DVDMEDIASTAR is nothing but bunch of ripoff jerks operating under the cover of AMAZON, who not only tolerates these thieves but continues to support their endeavors by lending them the tacit approval of AMAZON, 'cause if you keep supporting thieves, ya become known as thieves yourself, don't you AMAZON?
AMAZON holds themselves forward as honest businessmen then abandon you to the thieves to whom they support, aid, and abet, even after it has been reported to them several times and they still continue to give them aid, support and legitimacy then throw their hands into the air like scared little punks, "Oh, my, there's nothing we can do!"
There is a way to stop aiding and abetting thieves reported to you: STOP LISTING THEM so that you don't become associated with them and classified as thieves yourselves, AMAZON!
When is someone going to ask congress and the senate…
posted by Bill Arnett @ 11:57 AM Permalink
…if, as I had to do recently with a bout of double pneumonia, has anybody asked them how, with no or little health insurance, how they would pay $17,000.00 A NIGHT for the health care given me through the VA as a 100% disabled Vietnam veteran.
$17,000.00, seventeen-thousand dollars for a single night in the county hospital. I literally know NO ONE, not a single friend of mine, other than Warrior Woman who has worked for Target for thirteen years, and even she would soon run up on limits at some point.
EVERYONE ELSE I know, except sick dick, gwb, and all the retired congressman and senators and those now debating health reform would literally be driven into bankruptcy by as small an event as a broken leg, or double pneumonia such as I had.
Unemployment running rampant, people so discouraged at not finding a job that they have given up their search, how much longer do they believe there will be before the food riots starts? Thieves are already mapping out former half-million dollar home neighborhoods, marking the ones still occupied right on the internet!
Fancy-Dandy closed housing is going downhill faster than Olympic champion bobsledders. Just how much more bickering and nauseating repetition of the same old talking points.
Every time Obama asked a republican in what areas they agreed, the republicans bought up nothing but cost, tax-raising, and not a single word about providing care people can afford or offer a single idea about improving care,
We the people, the bosses of these jerkoffs, should immediately cease any health care benefits for any and all to congress and the senate.
Get rid of the massive "defense" departments budget to a miniscule portion, we already have enough nukes no one dares nuke us. Mutually assured destruction is what has basically has protected us while we spend trillions in fruitless wars of benefit to no one; that alone would provide cradle-to-grave care free for every American.
This ridiculous bickering is destroying American and the American ideal and the end grows closer everyday these clowns continue posing for the cameras and harumpf, harumpf, harumph expound endlessly about a subject in which they have no stake whatever. They have theirs, screw the American public, the hell with their constituents, the old out of sight out of mind problem. They should all be forced to be bussed to the cancer wards and look at the children dying of cancer and let the republic stand before the microphones with which they are so enamored and tell everyone why those children should die from lack of care and do nothing but talk about theoretical costs.
It's just way to disgusting to listen to these a$$holes discuss money instead of caring for our citizens.
Damn each and everyone of them to hell. Bastards.
NOTE: I sent this posting to the White House website, although I had to modify it slightly for length. I hope they get the message, America is dying an ugly death thanks to traitors who openly pray and state that they will vote against every piece of legislation Obama supports, just to say NO, regardless of its merits and the fact that many of the measure were initially proposed by REPUBLICANS who are now nothing but traitors. Everyone talks of the upcoming midterm elections, crowing about the the lead republicans fancy they have, I say the American public is plenty smart enough to know which party refuses to do ANYTHING for purely partisan reasons-and it ain't the democrats. So while rethugs sit back, pants down, getting tea-bagged by their acolytes, they may find that they might as well turn around and spread cheeks for what the American public, wiser everyday, has in store for them. And it ain't gonna be pretty.
Western Prince William Del. Bob Marshall, R-13th, says disabled children are God’s punishment to women who have aborted their first pregnancy.
He made that statement last Thursday at a press conference to oppose state funding for Planned Parenthood.
“The number of children who are born subsequent to a first abortion with handicaps has increased dramatically. Why? Because when you abort the first born of any, nature takes its vengeance on the subsequent children,” said Marshall, a Republican. [...] According to Marshall, Planned Parenthood receives “about $500,000 a year” from the state.
But Jessica Honke, director of public policy for Planned Parenthood Advocates of Virginia, said the only state funding Planned Parenthood receives is from Medicaid reimbursements. That amount was about $35,000 in the 2009 fiscal year, according to the Department of Medical Assistance Services.
Planned Parenthood provides a wide range of gynecological and other health services, from cancer screening and HIV prevention to birth control for low-income women. [...] [Rev. Joe] Ellison said he was “declaring war against Planned Parenthood.”
Yep, nothing more Christain than god punishing children for their parent's actions, lying, & declaring war.
When President Obama took office, gun rights advocates sounded the alarm, warning that he intended to strip them of their arms and ammunition.
And yet the opposite is happening. Mr. Obama has been largely silent on the issue while states are engaged in a new and largely successful push for expanded gun rights, even passing measures that have been rejected in the past.
In Virginia, the General Assembly approved a bill last week that allows people to carry concealed weapons in bars and restaurants that serve alcohol, and the House of Delegates voted to repeal a 17-year-old ban on buying more than one handgun a month. [...] "The watchword for gun owners is stay ready," said Wayne LaPierre, chief executive of the National Rifle Association. "We have had some successes, but we know that the first chance Obama gets, he will pounce on us."
So let me get this straight, cars and alcohol=bad, guns and alcohol=good. With any luck these morons will shoot each other and raise our collective IQ. Virginia ain't for lovers anymore.
The Drudge Report and other conservative sites are highlighting a newly-unveiled logo for the U.S. Department of Defense's Missile Defense Agency and complaining that the new logo is reminiscent of both the Obama campaign logo and an Islamic flag.
"the new MDA shield appears ominously to reflect a morphing of the Islamic crescent and star with the Obama campaign logo," writes Big Government's Frank Gaffney. "… Team Obama is behaving in a way that -- as the new MDA logo suggests -- is all about accommodating that 'Islamic Republic' and its ever-more aggressive stance."
Jesus Christ on a toasted muffin, is there anything they can't read anything into?
Alabama Republicans Jo Bonner and Robert Aderholt took to the U.S. House floor in July, denouncing the Obama administration’s stimulus plan for failing to boost employment. “Where are the jobs?” each of them asked.
Over the next three months, Bonner and Aderholt tried at least five times to steer stimulus-funded transportation grants to Alabama on grounds that the projects would help create thousands of jobs.
They joined more than 100 congressional Republicans and several Democrats who, after voting against the stimulus bill, wrote Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood seeking money from $1.5 billion the plan set aside for local road, bridge, rail and transit grants. The $862 billion American Recovery and Reinvestment Act passed last year with no Republican votes in the House and three in the Senate.
I was trying for a pithy comment, but these people are lying, armed, hating, christofascist, paranoid, hypocrites ... and given all the fits that's news to print. What's wrong with this picture!?
It was in Abilene, Texas, November, 1963, and a bunch of us kids had run down to the local "little store" to get cokes and candy bars. While my sisters and others were doing so I was drawn as a moth to the flame to the old spinning rack of comic books almost every store had to check out the latest Superman comic.
My sisters and friends finished their purchases, ran out the door, calling for me to follow. Without even thinking, and still holding the comic in which I had been so engrossed, I ran out out of the store to catch up. Suddenly it occurred to me that I still had a now stolen comic in hand, turned around, head hung down, and with feet of lead slowly made my way back to to the store to face my certain execution (Get the rope, Ma, we'll just string him up out back and bury him afore he stinks too bad).
So as I entered the store knowing death was imminent, I slowly, and with tears in my eyes, confessed my unintended crime and submitted myself to the mercy of the store owner.
"I saw ya run out the door with the other kids and was just fixin' to call the police, but since you brought it back so quickly I believe you had no real intention of stealing it. Just put the comic back on the rack, son, and go on home, but don't ever let somethin' like this ever happen again!"
Reprieve! Absolution! Forgiveness! That's where it all went wrong! I should've recognized my opportunity for fame, infamy actually, gone back into that store, beat the crap outa that old man and his wife, taken the shotgun under the counter and blown them both away.
What were they gonna do, I was only ten years old, the longest they could have held me was to age twenty-one, and in the meantime the notoriety, the sheer evilness, the callous cruelty of the deed would grow in leaps and bounds as the horror of this act spread throughout the nation, making me the greatest and most well-known juvenile criminal ever!
Press interviews with parents and neighbors ("Why, he was always such a nice young man, helpful to the elderly, voluntarily cleaned the swimming pool for the trailer park, and always a cheerful smile and a kind word for children younger than he! How, my god, how, my god could he have reverted to such evil? Could it have been the loss of his bible engraved with his name that made him so depraved?)
I would have given voluntary interviews, calmly facing the cameras as Walter Cronkite gently, in his avuncular way, asked what motivated me to commit such a horrible crime, and then, only then, would I begin to stammer, a single tear rolling down my tender young cheek, and I would have explained how it was soda and comic books that warped my young mind, and how I prayed to the lord to bless those I had slaughtered and to damn me to hell.
The trial wouldn't have been open to the public, but dozens of breathless reporters would be sprinting to their news vans for minute by minute updates, right up until my conviction, and consignment to the most vile of Texas Juvenile Rehabilitation Center in existence (I wouldn't be able to say where, I heard they were all terrible and vile), where, upon entering the hoosegow I would immediately murder two other inmates, beginning the whole circus anew.
I would be the first to rend my garments and scream that evil should die after President Kennedy's assassination. Weeping myself to sleep at night, kneeling and praying beforehand until my knees bled. Consolidating my reputation of being insane.
Midway through my sentence I would "find god" and become the biggest holy roller in the whole joint, converting other criminals to the good side, committing them to do only good deeds, and act only in the service of others.
New articles and books would be written of my miracle conversion. I would become not only a model prisoner, but exceed the standards of a model citizen. I would write many of those books, touting my salvation, subject to more interviews with Walter Cronkite than the astronauts returning from space.
And finally, after all those years of murdering, converting, and finding god I could undoubtedly have pursued my true dream:
I would become a banker, rich beyond my dreams and paid billions by the same sucker taxpayers that rehabilitated me. And it all would have started with that comic book leading to a comic book life.
posted by Bill Arnett @ 12:28 PM Permalink
…become a much calmer person ( that shines through the words of my post, don't it?), given to thoughtful analysis of the issues of the day, saddened by them for most days given the state of our nation, cheerful and sometimes deliriously giddy when something that seems right, just, and good for all mankind and America in particular.
I speak of the maladies affecting one of the most black-hearted, evil, scheming, bigoted, holier-than thou, war criminal, killer of children and women, leading the charge back to the Dark Ages where civility imposed by torture was the only, or at least the primary method used to obtain information from an enemy.
A man, whom over the last 30 years has done every thing possible to lead us to the brink of Armageddon by activating the true evil that lives within himself, even though I know that at death's door there will be no repenting done by former vice president dick cheney, a man whom, if anyone on his earth deservers to linger through a long, painful, excruciating death, must be number one on the list, and a holiday should be declared to mark the day of celebration when he finally succumbs to his ailments, knowing that, if he really believes all that religious claptrap he will surely rot in a special place set aside for particularly repugnant, hateful and hated persons whoever walked the face of the planet. Like gwb.
Can you imagine the hell it would be to be eternally stuck with no one sufficiently intelligent to string three words together without a teleprompter?
So here's my sincere wishes that you die a long, slow, dare I say it? I dare! I dare! tortuous death of the most vicious kind, the kind you ordered used on children and men with out a scintilla of any evidence they had done wrong, as you, the most evil, villainous bastard and worshipper of Satan to have existed since we thought we had exterminated your kind by ridding the world of Nazis and their particular brand of evil you and gwb co-opted and sought to bring back into the world.
Die ugly, Dick, die painfully, die with the deaths of the millions you have ordered killed and hear their screams all the way down to the deepest, darkest part of hell where, if there is justness, Satan himself will sodomize you dozen times for each of those you have murdered or had a part in their murder.
Rot, you foul-smelling, earth demon soon to meet your maker's opposite, you know, the one down there with the hugh spiny male member that unlike yours, never goes flaccid nor ever grows tired.
Did, Dick. die so we can all celebrate your death and have our chance to defecate on your grave.
There. See how compassionate, patient, thoughtful and calm I have become?
Tell me what it is that makes a republican wonder why a person…
posted by Bill Arnett @ 7:32 PM Permalink
…is deserving of better treatment than me, just an ordinary person holding no personal religious beliefs of a particular religious bent?
Is it because daily I see examples of republican,and democrats, but primarily republicans, leading lives and setting examples of crass bigotry, living the lies that they are morally superior to democrats and others who would seek to lend a hand to the least of us?
They, and the churches they so regularly attend to further the front that they and their families are religiously superior to the lesser persons not allowed to attend the church because the cardboard boxes in which they have been reduced to sleeping in are, heavens!, blocking the ventilation vents of the church, making it uncomfortable for the paying parishioners. (Tithe payers, don't you know, Gods demand money for their time, millions of dollars a year.)
When these same churches suffer a severe setback, such as a conviction of several of their Holy Men for teaching children how to kneel and pray in the manner god intended, do these churches dip into the Midas-like fortunes of cold hard case to make those churches into sanctuaries for the poor and needy? Oh, beg your pardon, they will instead sell that land upon which they have never paid a penny in land, water, or other usage tax to which their :subjects have always paid, and use that money to settle for pennies on the dollar without compunction, sorrow, misgivings, or any thought as to why their god, their Supreme Being, their Moral Compass whose teaching they espouse, could have sat back with a bag of chips, soft drink sitting aside a bottle of bourbon, gathering his Angels to his sided, turning on his infinitely large TV screen with glasses free 3-D, so they he and the mortals whom have served him, many years past and those many years, hence, in training as Acolytes to him, the Supreme Leader, who loves all men (and occasional a pretty young thing, under 12 preferably).
And in return for Man's stupid willingness, without a shred of proof, not one iota of empirical evidence, seeks World Domination for all time and an inexhaustible supply of young, the most gullible of all, who believe and trust the most outrageous of fantasy stories, just as much as they wonder at Avatar, Spiderman, Wolverine, the X-men, the incredible HULK, and so many others that…uh…wait!…wait!… those allegorical characters with their personal flaws and failings, not a single one of them have raped children, had daughters whom they engaged in 'marriage' ceremonies swearing they would have no sex without anyone but their Creators, their fathers.
Maybe that's where man went wrong, seeking themselves to be Deities since they all know that if religion were true they would certainly burn in hell.
NOTE: The contents of this post are mine, admittedly growing ever more insane, but I'll see your Lord and raise by two Hulks.
posted by The Vidiot @ 10:01 AM Permalink
CPAC, the Conservative Political Action Conference, selected Ron Paul in their presidential straw poll.
Now, before I LMAO at the silliness of the whole thing, let me wallow in schadenfruede for a moment. See, FOX news has always gone batshit over this CPAC thing and whoever won the straw poll usually became the FOX news darling/whore for the next year. Unfortunately for them, Ron Paul doesn't really fall in with their agenda and they are a little upset.
Huckabee, now a paid Fox News contributor, joined other conservatives in kicking sand on Paul's victory, telling one of his coworkers that he abstained from CPAC because it had been taken over by libertarian activists.
My how times have changed. Last year, it was huge, the year before, it was huge. This year, according to FOX news, not so much.
Heh Heh Heh.
Now, for the part that makes me LMAO: Ron Paul is not what the conservative party wants on any level. He's far too radical for them. Which just shows once again how silly politics really is.
posted by The Vidiot @ 9:36 AM Permalink If I ever move to New Orleans, I will buy about a dozen of these all-in-1 chairs because that's exactly what you need to watch the parades. (We saw Drew Brees, who was King of Bacchus, tossing mini gold footballs from the lead float!)
New Orleans is a special place where debauchery reigns and the police are more focused on pomp and circumstance... at least when it comes to the French Quarter. It's hard to get arrested in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. You have to be a tremendous idiot to get busted. Mardi Gras isn't the best time to go to New Orleans. There are too many people in town, so getting a beignet at Cafe du Monde or a plate of Crawfish and Tasso pasta and Coops is just not going to happen. But this time was a special Mardi Gras because of the Saints.
After the Saints' win, the town erupted in revelry. Nearly 850,000 people attended the Saints parade on the Tuesday after the Superbowl. Schools and businesses dismissed early on Monday, closed on Tuesday and opened late on Wednesday to accommodate the parade attendees and their families. So, for all intents and purposes, this year, Mardi Gras lasted three weeks, instead of the usual two. That means for threesolid weeks, people went out, partied until 3 or 4, woke up, either went to work or didn't, or went to a parade (there are 200 of them during the two weeks preceding Mardi Gras) then went out again and partied until 3 or4, and so on and so forth. By the time the actual day Mardi Gras came, and by the time the cops cleared Bourbon street at midnight, most New Orleaneans were actually throwing in the towel and going home. Dr. Vidiot had never seen it like that. He said that usually, Mardi Gras is just like every other night preceding it where the revelry doesn't really kick in until 1 am. But not this time. This time, when we headed back to where the locals go (in the Marigny) the streets were damn near abandoned by 1 am. No more random shouts of "Who Dat?!" (Which has now been answered: "Nobody!") No more brass bands, no more drumming in the streets. Everyone had partied until they could party no more.
It was a good Mardi Gras and exactly what Fat Tuesday is supposed to be.
I was alway taught that when you publicly blow it big-time…
posted by Bill Arnett @ 9:47 AM Permalink
…that the apology for the transgression should be equally public and as sincere as possible.
A short time back, the military mis-prescribed several medications, including the dozen or so I take already, to include morphine sulfates, at a level eight to sixteen times the levels I should have been taking them. Enough I'm told to render a horse comatose.
After a day or so I was positively giddy, for the endless pain in which I live was greatly reduced for the first time in fifteen years. something else broke within my mind. Reading back I cannot believe the unintentional spelling errors (at which I used to be a whiz, spelling checker? Bah! Humbug, I carried my own accessible at the speed of light) and grammatical errors (which though never my strong suite I could hold a thought long enough to get it down on paper and expressed in a manner that could be understood). But that's the minor, unimportant stuff.
I look back on these posts and, although I catch glimpses of myself dancing, sometimes, slithering at other times through other worlds, through the inner recesses of my mind, laid so bare even I am perplexed about from whence some of these thought originated. Now that I almost am recovered from dying (literally) I am searching with ever greater diligence for that region of my mind I fear may have disappeared entirely, as have so many other blocks of my mind. Alas! I fear it may be gone forever, along with the other blocks comprising the picture puzzle that was formerly me, cohesive clarity, and a mosaic comprising a picture of the typical failing human being, surrounded by holy-rollers, bankers, rich, old bigoted white men that run this country and would rather destroy it that save it if it means 'them colored' will be in charge, and whom still have wet dreams of dropping nukes on someone to anxiously prove we are still the baddest boys on the block, knowing all along the era of America, and the dreams which they have for world domination are dead as they ever were ever, and will if not for decades, It will take several generations, and an awfully long to restore America to a mere shadow of its former self, and they will know they did it, but will blame it on 'those colored folk.'
I used to be a fantastic compartmentalizer, awakening slowly in the morning opening each drawer of a great, hugh, chest that was ever present in my mind, reaching it pulling out the problem I had stored there, examining it from every angle right down to its subatomic structure, decide what I could do to resolve that problem and, if after this careful determination I decided there was nothing I could do that day, I would place it carefully back into it's drawer to await review again. If, by chance, I found there was something I could do that day then I mentally shifted it onto my to do list while retaining it in its proper drawer, for even resolved problems had value; experience.
I was able to do this up until the day I was told I had cancer and would be dead with the year. Warrior Woman, my beloved, moved around in front of me, gently took my face between her hands, leaned over until we were practically eye to eye and gently said (with the doctor in the room), "You can't die yet because I'm not done with you." I need not say who won.
Now, through a mixture of joy tempered by sadness, my Warrior Woman and my inevitable battle with death, I'm putting my money on my beloved Warrior Woman, Milagros (Spanish for 'miracles'), four feet ten, 98 pounds of indescribable strength, a spine of steel, a steel trap of a mind, and a loving, tender touch that cuts through everything but my permanent pain.
This has become much more that the apology I owe our readers for my outrageous conduct while taking eight to sixteen times what would be needed to kill a horse. And it was once again my Warrior Woman that dragged me to the doctors and again saved my life as I surely could not have continued as I was for long, even enjoying the respite from constant agony; she some how knew that, stiffened her spine, raised herself to twelve feet tall and commanded that I do as she said or face certain death (from the medicines or her? I still haven't figured that out, I just know I was within her reach).
I do so dearly love writing here. My son faithfully reads and learns more about me all the time; he brags about my writing and has his friends read it.
I'm truly fortunateto have wonderful writing partners here, whom I am loath to disappoint, and to each and every one of them i extend heartfelt apologies, and, if you'll have me I shall start writing again as our country collapses and the foreign governments that could buy and sell America ten times over. start sending for people like me to 'kindly accept a vacation at a re-education camp. You guy as the best, bar non, and the only real genius I know that would give a nobody like me write for you. Even as my mind self-destructs, as it is, I would be proud to remain on your staff if you'll have me, until the destruction is complete and I can no longer remember what this grey box is with the beautiful picture of a very shiny-eyed, clearly happy and ready to play with the green tug toy in his mouth Boston Terrier, which if they aren't THE kindest, sweetest, most fun dogs that ever, they are surely number two. I know, I have five of them.
And last, not least, I apology for my human frailties and will endeavor to provide you with posts worth reading; still irreverent perhaps, but that's just me occasionally breaking through my pain and drug induced stupor to actually say something useful, semi-intelligent, or amusing, leaving a written history of me for my son.
So, to all I apologize, for my human weakness, and my temporary inability to control it. I'm better than that, and you and each of you deserve the best.
Ciao from back somewhere inside this universe. Bill
NOTE: I have modified this slightly to more accurately say what I wished to convey. I wish I could individually say I'm sorry to everyone, as at the rate my mind seems to be disintegrating may make writing impossible sooner than even I had imagined.
Nope, I'm not going to point that out at all. I just want to point out what CNN didn't in their article about their own poll; Teabaggers are 80% white.
Color me surprised. Not.
The teabaggers' constant claims that they cross party and racial lines has always been a cover for the facts; they didn't object to Bush trashing the Constitution, they didn't object to Bush taking a surplus and driving it into deficit due to tax cuts for the rich, they didn't object to illegal wars, they didn't object to torture, they didn't object to anything ... until the new sheriff, umm Obama, was in town
The time has come to say good night, My how time does fly. We’ve had a laugh, perhaps a tear, and now we hear good-bye.
I really hate to say good night, for times like these are few. I wish you love and happiness, In everything you do.
The time has come to say good night, I hope I’ve made a friend. And so we’ll say “May God bless you,” Until we meet again.…
The time has come to say good night, My how time does fly. We’ve had a laugh, perhaps a tear, and now we hear good-bye.
And, of course, from Carol Burnett:
I'm so glad we had this time together, Just to have a laugh, or sing a song. Seems we just get started and before you Know it Comes the time we have to say, “So long".
There's a time you wanna sigh for dreamin. And a time for things you have to do. The time I love the best is any evening I can spend a moment here with you.
When the time comes and I'm feelin' lonely And I'm feelin' oh so blue. I just sit back and think of you only And the happiness still comes through.
That's why I'm glad we had this time together. Cause it makes me feel like I'm along. Seems we just get started and before you know it Comes the time we have to say, "So Long".
Good night everybody!
I have apparently exceed all bounds and etiquette of insanity. It only grows worse daily and with this new possible health threat, if it is cancerous, I have spoken with my beloved one who knows my spirit will find hers and hand in hand or as tightly as we can intertwine ourselves we will speed through this universe to the next as the most colorful shooting star ever to have been, or that there ever will be, surpassing the beauty of anything ever witnessed by man before the beginning of the never-ending time during which I shall again be happy to gaze into her eyes, tell her how much I love her, and promise her anew that she will be my Warrior Woman for all eternity. Only she truly knows, understands, and feels the pain in which I live, and only she understands how gloriously happy we will be when released to roam together, certain in her knowledge that when she breaks free of these earthly bounds, I shall be waiting, knowing time may be eternal, but it is not endless, and we will move back and forth as our love draws us to do. True love cannot be surpassed or ever "die".
After my Daffy Duck on acid post below I noticed I haven't heard from you, my partners and a hugh part of my reclusive existence…
posted by Bill Arnett @ 5:33 PM Permalink
…if I stepped on toes, inadvertently offended, or just exceeded some mystic boundary I did not have any way of knowing I crossed, I apologize from the bottom of my heart (which I almost blew up), and will, if you, the partners so decide, will disappear, never to be heard from again. Besides, they've discovered a new UFO (Unidentified Farging Object) in my left lung that may solve this problem faster than Warrior Woman and I could possibly anticipate.
I know that sounds needy, but I'm just coming back to a reality were affirmation means something to the insane.
posted by Bill Arnett @ 2:58 PM Permalink
This started as a response to DanD, but got a little out of control, as I often do when I'm with the love of my life, my heart, and the one to whom my heart eternally belongs:
I can quite legally smoke pot in California, but the opiates (and morphine is what, like one or two chemical processes from heroin, isn't it?) have wiped out any good, good, good, good vibrations I formerly enjoyed from it. I've done many heavy drugs in my day, but have always walked away after a little fun. The pain and level of insanity of the world in which I now live is more like Pink's in Pink Floyd's The Wall (in which it was proven positively that flowers phuck). I seem to always be hanging out there on a ragged edge, and now they have discovered a UFO in my left lung. THAT really cheered me up. But, retrospectively, had I the chance to do it again I would do everything exactly the same way for fear that any change might have meant I would not met my Warrior Woman, and I would rather drop dead on the spot than run that risk."In my life, I've loved you more…"(h/t the Beatles) and I can honsestly say when I am incinerated and my spirit released to the cosmos that I have known love, true, heart-palpitating, breathtaking, beautiful and complete love that makes even this hell in which I live a state of joy at just a glimpse from or at her, the brushing of our hands that stills sends almost overpowering electrical shock through my soul, and the tear that comes to my eye that I know I must one day leave her. But the tear from the other eye is of joy and celebration, for I will, somewhere in the cosmos, somewhere in time, beyond the bounds of reality and understanding, even possibility, somehow I will again find my love, for our love is eternal and can never die, and eternally shall our spirits intertwine.
Did I ever tell everyone here that in less than within two minutes of meeting Mila I grabbed her, hugged her, and told her she would be mine, forever. She looked up at my eyes, could see I was serious, hugged me tightly back and said, "O.K." It took me four months of scouring Angeles City before I saw her at the opening of a new bar but, alas! She was accompanied by a date. She asked him to get her a beer and the instant he was gone she shouted out for my phone number, I shouted back 25223 (the real number when I ran Animal Control 'cause I was apparently the only one of eleven hundred cops with sufficient balls to pursue a cobra to it's inevitable capture) and we parted ways with the certain knowledge that we had found one another's heart and spirit, but a couple of days later a very excited kennel man that worked for me came running out shouting I had to call the number he handed me, and a little annoyed 'caused a nine footer cobra had escaped me in the washout by the stables, I asked "Why? What the fuck is so important?""A girl named Mila ca----" (I was already gone) and minutes later had my life's mate on the phone. I asked her if she liked to swim, she did, so we made a swim date, and then asked if she was doing anything the night before the Saturday, September 14th, 1974, so I might take her to dinner and make sure I could find her house. She coyly assented, we went out that night, Friday the 13th, and were together ever after. Oh, an occasional dude would make a pass, but the instant the found out they messing with MY girl they quickly split, Had something to do with throwing people out windows when they got pushy, Reputions spread quickly there. And when I promoted myself out of animal control and demanded Town Patrol when my commander literally pinned my to the wall saying I was not leaving his squadron, I picked the most impossible section there was to enter, Town Patrol. The NCOIC there said no way, he hand-picked every troop so I picked up his phone (Do you mind?), called Tom Johnson, my commander and asked him if he had a minute to speak to an NCOIC refusing to follow orders and handed Tsgt "Rex" Peacock the phone who began by vehemently protesting but by conversation's end was practically at attention when the good major said he could just as easily relieve him of duty on the spot and put me in his place. It's sad to watch a grown man have to grovel, beg, and plead to keep maybe to third or fourth most important job there was for a cop there. By the time he escorted me over to the other office (where a pool was running on how long it would take for Peacock to blow me out of the job), I was an instant legend, and when I was assigned Rick Amparo, the PHil. Constabulary equivalent of their green beret and, even though my rank dictated I be a flight chief, peacock sent Rick and I into every bar brawl, gunfight, murder, and dangerous assignment possible, Rick and I bonded as true friends who always had each other back, my exploits and world records for requisitions for new uniforms (I'd come home-Mila would scream. wanting to know how badly hurt I was- and eventually got accustomed to the fact it was never MY blood, but a violent perp), and my legend grew, No one, No ONE every was less than polite to Mila. She had quite a legend to, knowing from the primeval snarl and bulging vein on my forehead that someone was gonna get fucked up, and it wasn't gonna be me, she would grab a beer, suddenly pop up between us, lean back and say "You kill him, I'll tell the cops I did it, they'll never arrest me!" The site of 4 foot nine, 90 pounds of pure wildcat always broke me up laughing, nd as the other guy was unceremoniously thrown from the bar and advised as to whom he had just challenged to a fight, every time I ever saw that guy again he was sending cold beers to my table and waving hello. Still my legend grew, to the point that the mere mention that I was on the way with Rick entire bars would empty out.
But my rock, my spirit, my heart, my every desire beyond all desires I have been living the last 35-years with my Warrior Woman, Mila. And, oh yeah, she's really 4 foot eleven and weighs in at a staggering 97 pounds. She is the only reason I have to hold onto this miserable existence, the racing of my heart seeing her, the dulcet tone of a lover's voice in my ear, the gentleness of her touch, and the way our love radiates each other just when we're in the same room, our breathing as one, the innate ability to read each other's mind, the sheer magic that is my beloved.
posted by Bill Arnett @ 7:45 PM Permalink
…probably has something to do with trying to use the keyboard while under the influence of Valium at eight to sixteen times normal prescribed doses. (But at only half the speed of light; quite insistent that there wasn't any room for negotiating on that.)
Who-e-e-e-e-e! that, man, made an already heavy load into liftoff beyond the cosmos vewy, vwey difficult but somehow even better, although I had to come back twice 'cause i kept forgetting my helmet.The blastoff was great, I waved to Sailor in the crowd twice (I don't think he saw me)
Just once, ONCE, I wish I had the great honor of shaking hands with Bowie, but I think he's stuck way behind in a cosmic pothole or whatever they are called. and I'm not sure hollering into space in general would get the message to him.
Anywho I'm back now, just terrified of the great distance from my keyboard to my screen, Anyone with any 'space lag' tags or guidance? From the damaged clod to me to Sailor, whom I am certain that our genius can beat up your genius.
I slappeth thy metaphorical genius, with confidence, confidence I say!, leavening him weeping like a little girlyman into his metaphorically genius cravat, scurrilous hiding behind the flagstones to which they retreat, post haste, (Can metaphysical genius' scurry behind flagstones? C-l-e-v-e-r, those of the genius genre!)(And do they really wear silken cravats[is that a word?] and is it for appearing all geniuslsy or tantric sex?) Only the Shadow knows fer sure, and he's too busy training Obama to jump through hoops and things wishing he'd been a boxer, "And in this corner at an imposing 126 pounds, standing 8 feet, nine inches tall, perfectly willing to make it look close before taking a dive that would do any Olympian proud (the people of Olympia, the olympic teams just keep cracking up), Ladies and Gentlemen, pimps and hoes alike I give you PRESIDENT BARRACK OBAMA, who must knuckle under fast here so he can Knuckle under before his true masters, the REPUBLICAN PARTY! Several times today as a matter of fact! An his opponent, standing at a stately gnome height of 4 feet, six, muscling his weight in at 2 pounds, seven ounces, A CARDBOARD CUTOUT OF MITCH MCCONNELL! Truly a battle of titans! Crushing blows, blazing speed,and since OBAMA will collapse in the second round, after contemplating how to go down without appearing even more ineffectual than in the White House this will truly be a battle of titans, MITCH MCCONNELL, having mastered his hung-down droopy-dog, where did my dentures go?(You'll wonder were the yellow went 'til you dare try to speak to a congressman or senator with intelligence!)
Just like a friend, at da da ta da daa,dada, ta dah, dum de dum da da de dum to, (released in advance just in cace we lose and stand ready for the contempt just in case we loose. YO MAMA! STAND FAST MOTHER! DUDLEY DOORIGHT IS HERE! NEVER FEAR!
Natasha twirls her nustach while Boras peruses the new Victoria Secret Catalog. How, he muses, do the Americans expect to win with such skimpy outfits? Then he takes a really good look at the models and started to get ideas…'til Natasha knocked the hell out of him.
I gotta go lay down. BTW, I know this isn't Craig's List, 'cause of the title of ViiotSpeak, but if anyone knows an oral surgeon within the CA Bay Area who may be willing to do pro bono work or that can find it within them to help a 100% Vietnam disabled vet who just can't seem to get the help promised after they surgically severed my fifth cranial nerve. Oh, yeah, my necrotic jaw they didn't reveal for a long time, and then told me to try and hang onto my teeth, which would probably all fall out by the time I was fifty.(I was thinking of one of those stylistically keen teeth necklaces I used to see as a kid watching Tarzan and Jungle Jim. Both starring Johnny Weismueller who held like 58 world records in swimming) I just don't thunk, or think either, I can summon sufficient panache to pull it off. I have managed to hang on to 15 or 16 of them, but I know I will gag to death when they put in those old those 55 Buick bumper false teeth, It will finish me as, as I know now that day will mark the day I begin dying, and I won't be able to fight it. But don't cry for me Argentina, I ain't ever even been there, that I know of. (Wait, some gal called Evita, looking a lot like Lady Madonna, walkin' down those streets, are you ever gonna find some fast food eats? Seem oddly familiar. And I'm intimately familiar with…what was the subject? Oh, yeah, odd families. And they said I'd lost all marbles. Well, I fooled them. I swallowed some, that are beginning to pass.)(But don't tell anyone, please.
And it's true if you exceed the speed of light you really can shake hands with yourself. It's sill pretty hard because you have infinitely long hands, but with some practice you'll figure it out
Any takers? Any hope? Ye-haa kid let's blow the hell outa this thing and go? Is there a Secret Society of Agent Orange Vets that can spare me even more pain? I'm pretty adept at learning new and different ways to shake hands! If not pro bono I'd be willing to work out any payment plan I can afford and set it through my bank to pay forever. And I live in permanent, intractable pain that often make me cry myself to sleep from the endless pain, or wake up with tears in my eyes at the prospect of facing yet another day of endless, unrelenting, make-me-want-to-scream-at-the- ever continuing- of- stories of high adventure but lousy story days because they all have the same beginning, middle, and end of nothing but pain, pain, pain, oh-h-h pain.
So 600 incoherent mouth breathers show up for a teabagging convention, (quick aside: teabagging and mouth breathing seem to be incompatible, but what do I know ;-), and it makes the news 24/7. Srsly!?
Sheesh, there were more people at the my local watering hole on a Monday songwriters' night.
Let's do some math: 600 attendees @ $550 each = $330,000. The Quitta from Wasilla, Falin' Palin, AKA Moosealini, reportedly charged $115,000. So over 1/3 of the proceeds went to an already rich person. The rest went to the for-profit company that put the event, and the participants, on (minus hall rental, advertising, &c.). Nice teabagging there Clem.
Why isn't that the news?
2 notable things about this tiny gathering: 1) Former Congressman and presidential candidate Tom Tancredo's frankly racist and xenophobic opening speech. A low light from the prepared speech (that differed from the actual speech):
because we don’t have a civics literacy test to vote, people who couldn’t even spell vote, or say it in English, put a committed socialist ideologue in the White House named Barack Hussein Obama.
I remember when 'literacy tests' were stuck down. It's a good thing for him that literacy tests aren't required to have children, otherwise 'uncle daddy' and his daughter/his sister (it's Chinatown, Jake) couldn't have spawned the minuscule crowd.
His whole speech, live not prepared, consisted of dog whistles. No wonder the 600 rode into that valley of wealth.
2) My personal favorite, Caribou Barbie had to write "budget tax cut" on her palm to remember her talking points in a PRE-SCREENED Q&A after her speech!
Sen. Richard Shelby (R-AL) has put an extraordinary "blanket hold" on at least 70 nominations President Obama has sent to the Senate, according to multiple reports this evening. The hold means no nominations can move forward unless Senate Democrats can secure a 60-member cloture vote to break it, or until Shelby lifts the hold.
So one retard (IOKIYAR) from Alabama can hold the nation hostage!? What's wrong with this picture!?
posted by The Sailor @ 5:45 AM Permalink I know it's a crappy pic, but it is mine own. The above pic is STS 130 carrying the folks below into space:
Image above: (From left) Mission Specialist Nicholas Patrick, Pilot Terry Virts, Mission Specialists Robert Behnken and Kathryn Hire, Commander George Zamka and Mission Specialist Stephen Robinson. Image credit: NASA
posted by The Sailor @ 5:45 PM Permalink
People who know me know that after 20 years in the music industry as a live and recording engineer I was pretty fed up with the bidnez. Going out to see live music is a busman's holiday for me. If I go out it's to see friends play, and it's more about the social aspect than about the music. But I caught an act the other night that reminded me of why I've always loved music.
When I worked at the China Club I had an unofficial deal with a label as an A&R scout on spec. If I saw a band I thought they should sign, and they signed them, I'd get points on the album. In 2 years I recommended 3 bands. They didn't sign them, I didn't get the points. I think these guys would have made the cut.
I was trying to think of a description of this band, sorta like ... no, that's not quite right, they're more like ... umm, no, they sound kinda like ... I've got it, they sound like the Jenn Cristy Band!
She's a powerful singer and pianist with great stage presence. The 22 yr old guitar player has subtlety and a pedal board out of the 80's and knows how and when to use it. The bass player is so freaking solid and appropriate you take for granted he's there because the foundation is so tight. In some ways the drummer makes the band, not flashy, but great work on the high hat, side stick and toms, and a solid kick sound that, even before it's miked, thumps your chest.
The 4 of them have big, big sound. If the world was right they might be giants.
Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Jenn Cristy Band!
There was a time when I would have been angry for a time and then let this go freely…
posted by Bill Arnett @ 12:39 PM Permalink
…floating off into my mind, wafting away on the breeze of bad luck and certain of a cosmic retribution for the cretin who did this.
It's not even the value of the knives (although the by-hand 24ct gold gilded, hand etched hunting scenes on blades of the Russian knives were beautiful beyond belief).
My home has been violated. One of four four persons, aside my family, took it upon themselves to do me dirt and steal from me. And I hate nothing more than a thief.
They steal more than mere objects, they steal pieces of your soul, your heart, your security, and, in my case, further wreck an already damaged mind, losing cognizance ever faster, and sinking ever deeper into muck and the mire of psychotic depression.
I am no longer a healthy man, able to overcome such disappointments of what are really such an inconsequential nature anymore.
i am a recluse. I leave my house less than once a month, meaning that one of four people who knew where the knives were kept crept into my bedroom, took down my knife cases and stole only the four Russia Knives I valued so highly, not for their price, but for their sheer beauty, craftsmanship (each is hand made). and for that feeling of the bit of soul that went into making each knife.
Thanks for your well-meaning words, guys, there is a time I would have wholly agreed, before I went insane, but this is going to be very hard for the this time.
posted by The Sailor @ 7:41 PM Permalink
An open letter to our corporate sponsored 'elected' offals (sic):
Dear President Obama,
No matter what you do, They will never be for you, ... No matter where you go, No matter what you are. ... Knock down the old grey wall Be a part of it all ... Nothing to say, nothing to see Nothing to lose.* *********** I've always thought in lyrics because others have said it shorter and smarter than I can. Even if the point and subject were not what they intended.
In my own words: Dear Mr. President,
Stop trying to placate people who literally want you dead. The teabaggers and many elected republicans have said so, check the tape. Stop trying to play nice with Dems who only care about re-election.
We need jobs in this country, we need health care for everyone in this country. The lack of health care is costing lives AND jobs. You've said great things over the last few weeks, now start doing them. This isn't a damn popularity contest, you've already won that, this is your job and millions of people's lives are at stake.
Stand up & fight for what you believe in, and be a one term president if that's what it takes. Of course you'll be portrayed as combative or irrational, but how can that possibly be worse that how you're currently portrayed?
If you do that you'll get a second term and can carry thru with the policies the country needs and you were elected on.
* Apologies to Bad Finger for the adaptation. I hope this makes it up to them:
1.(sometimes capital letters 'V' and 'S' with no space) a style of writing or saying something using emotion and/or logic and snark, esp. in order to elucidate the obvious while pretending to be objective.
2. anything written by The Vidiot, The Sailor, Mr. Vidiot and anyone else they allow to post on the blog “vidiotspeak”
[Origin: loosely based on new + speak, coined by George Orwell in his novel, 1984 (1949)]
And for godsakes, stay away from FOX, MSNBC, CNN, ABC, CBS, and NBC.
It's ALL CRAP!!!
Watch the BBC news or ITN news instead.
"POSSE COMITATUS ACT" (18 USC 1385)
A Reconstruction Era criminal law proscribing use of Army (later, Air Force) to "execute the laws" except where expressly authorized by Constitution or Congress. Limit on use of military for civilian law enforcement also applies to Navy by regulation. Dec '81 additional laws were enacted (codified 10 USC 371-78) clarifying permissible military assistance to civilian law enforcement agencies--including the Coast Guard--especially in combating drug smuggling into the United States. Posse Comitatus clarifications emphasize supportive and technical assistance (e.g., use of facilities, vessels, aircraft, intelligence, tech aid, surveillance, etc.) while generally prohibiting direct participation of DoD personnel in law enforcement (e.g., search, seizure, and arrests). For example, Coast Guard Law Enforcement Detachments (LEDETS) serve aboard Navy vessels and perform the actual boardings of interdicted suspect drug smuggling vessels and, if needed, arrest their crews). Positive results have been realized especially from Navy ship/aircraft involvement.