Yo. I’m back. And don’t even ask what that little break was all about. Because, if you do, I’ll just say it was weird. Really weird. But suffice it to say that I’m typing with a fucking gauze wrapping on my stitched-up middle finger. I know, I know, the first thing that comes to your warped minds when I say middle finger is the infamous one-finger salute. Your sick minds want to think that Snarky Boy got cocky with my middle finger and one of those Harley fellows at my favorite watering hole took offense. Well, sorry about that, but it didn’t happen that way. Nope. It was a stupid goddamn painting accident. And let this be a lesson: When flesh runs across metal flashing, shit happens. And if those pussy Democrats would have actually passed a healthcare plan that mattered, the whole thing wouldn’t have cost me nearly two thousand dollars to stitch up. Yeah, two thousand dollars, mostly because the Doc at the radar station (that’s a Captain Beefheart reference, for those of you in the great musical void) was worried about bone damage. Bullshit. He was more worried about his medical license than any bone in my body. Trust me on that one.
There. Aren’t you glad you didn’t ask?
But I send heartfelt Snarky thank-yous to the fine folks who crammed my email box with notes of wonderment about my whereabouts. And, yes, I even enjoyed the large number of inquiries that went something like this: “Ha! I knew you’d run out of steam. I’m glad you’re gone and I hope you never come back.”
You gotta love that shit. I mean, these folks are the ones obsessively check, check, and checking to see if Snarky Boy is posting anything new but then they take more time to send me a note expressing their pleasure with what they assume is my demise. Oh baby, feel the logic.
Typing, as you can imagine, absolutely sucks now. I feel like a monkey with a mitt at a keyboard. And, no, not one of those purple-assed-baboons I liked so much at the zoos of my youth. I’m just a regular old monkey, if there’s such a thing, with a bandaged hand, an anxious mind and a throbbing hand that won’t allow me to work like I should be in this most busy time of year for painters. Good thing it’s the middle of the month because I’ve got a couple of weeks to ponder how in holy hell I’m going to pay the bills.
But the torture of the financial pinch was nothing compared to the torture of being forced to read – and not respond to – the sophomoric nonsense of the Vermont blogosphere. I’m sure, for example, you all witnessed the sheer ninniness of all the “Fred Tuttle” write-in crap. Volumes of bullshit were spilled on this one, with the great boring pontificators (especially Odum and his crowd) lecturing from on high about the merits and demerits of democracy, open processes, more processes and some more merits on the processes of democratic processes. Sorry, but that’s what they sound like to me when you get into their echo chamber of irrelevancy. Are they just trying to imitate Charlie Brown’s teacher? Wha-wha-wha-wha-wha.
I am, however, getting worried about Baruth. It’s been nearly 10 days since he posted a photo of himself on his site (besides, of course, the one that stares you down every time you visit). What’s up Phil? Getting shy over there? Remember, it’s all about you, baby. You and you alone. Don’t let us down. Because there is NO story without YOU in the center of it, Phil.
And the primary yesterday was a total fucking bore. Even though every blogger without an original thought pondered and fretted over the possibilities of “cross-over” voters in the primaries, it didn’t happen. And I knew it wouldn’t. Political elitists from all stripes have one thing in common: they don’t trust the common man and woman. But the common man and woman never pay attention to political elitists and their meaningless worries and, so, went and voted like they always do. Ho-fucking-hum.
The best irony of the primary day was that if there was any “rigging” of the ballot by anyone it was Bernie Sanders and the Democrats. They played out their little charade of letting Bernie on the primary ballot just to keep it “clean and clear” for the November ballot. And then Bernie did his famous smack down of the Dems this morning by thanking them for the 94% support but “no thanks.” Do they really think we’re all that stupid? I guess so.
The relationship between Bernie and the Dems is not too dissimilar to the relationship between the wife-beater and the wife. The wife-beater does the smack down one night and then gets all kissy face the next morning. The relationship is totally toxic but the wife is seemingly stuck for a myriad of reasons, not least of which is the comfort of the familiar – even when the familiar is so goddamn abusive. And what’s the best advice we all give the wife: Run! So, listen up Democrats: Run!
Or, if you’re not going to run, at least start asking him some serious questions. I’d suggest questions like these: What legislation have you introduced or supported that would end the Iraq war now? What legislation have you introduced or supported that would lead to the impeachment of Bush now? Why are you so joyless? If you had your way, would we all have to be as angry, humorless and just plain grumpy as you always are? And, finally, when’s the last time you begged for a hot-oil hand-job?
That would make things interesting, no?
Speaking of the primary, congrats to Eddie Munster –er, I mean – Matt Dunne for his victory in the Lite-Guv race. It must not have been easy to take on and defeat a man as popular as Huey Lewis. Huh? What? Are you serious? Oops, I was just informed that that was NOT Huey Lewis he defeated, but John Patrick (add a few more waspy names) Tracy. Sorry about that.
The best post-campaign coverage of the day came from the Burlington Free Press this morning. It was the photo of Tracy walking forlornly by Dunne at a busy Burlington intersection yesterday morning after realizing that he had been beaten to the coveted spot. And Tracy lives in Burlington! So not only did Tracy have to wake up as a loser this morning but he also had to see himself completely portrayed as a loser in the above-the-fold photo in the state’s largest newspaper. Bummer.
But now Dunne gets to face the Mr. Magoo of Vermont politics, Brian Dubie, in the general election. Worse, Dunne had to wake up on his victory day to find a headline in the morning papers touting the fact that Dubie has been called to service in Iraq as a member of the Vermont National Guard. Too bad Dunne won’t use this as evidence that Dubie’s in complete support of Bush’s stupid war. I mean, come on, how much more can a guy or girl support the war than show up for duty in Baghdad with nary a word of complaint?
And to hell with you if you believe for one second that this Dubie deployment is anything but staged. Come on. And the timing! Dunne should also start asking why regular joes are being forced to go sweat their asses off in Baghdad for 18 months while Dubie gets a ONE WEEK deployment. The joke's on us -- and the mainstream media for lapping this up like it's not the political stunt that it so obviously is.
Besides, how cruel is it to offer to send a Dubie to help the troops and it turns out to Brian Dubie? That's hardly the Dubie those poor fellas need about now. But, just like a good high, he'll be gone before they knew it.
I’ve got more to say – surprise, surprise – but my finger hurts.
I’ll be back soon.
