Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Wednesday Morning Random Blogging (Just Read It!)

Good morning, class. I hope you all had a good night of rest, a fine breakfast and all the wholesome love and attention you deserve as fine little servants of the capitalist democracy. Because you’re about to get yet another hyper and heaping spoonful of snark – straight, no chaser. Worse, I haven’t got much time so there won’t be any of those dopey moments of reflection whereby the inner-Snarky pauses to ask that most annoying question in all of creative writing: “You can’t say that, can you?” Fuck yeah. I can say anything I want. It’s my blog toy – not yours.

And why, I hear you asking, is Snarky Boy in such a hurry this morning? Well, thanks for asking. Because in my night of reverie (I know, I know, Mom, it was a Tuesday night but I was bored), I bumped into a most fun-loving group of local landscapers who were letting it rip after a frantic day of “prepping the gardens” for the kind of people who hire other people to – well – prep their gardens.

And what do you get when you mix an overworked landscaping crew, an underemployed painter, and more than a few games of fun-loving pool with beer as the golden lubricator? A job, motherfuckers. Yep. The Snarky Boy is donning a new hat today as a landscaper to the rich. Imagine that.

It’s what we at the bottom of the working barrel call a “win-win” situation. They need a live body with four working limbs and I need some work to hold me over until I start my summer of re-painting Liberty Street. Nice to meet you, fellas. And off we’ll go…

I, of course, know nothing about landscaping. But I know how to get on my knees (don’t ask) and I know how to manage a shovel, rake and wheelbarrow. I was told last night that my primary task would be mulch moving. Whatever. Just show me the money.

Someday, you know, I’m going to get a real job that is a couple more rungs up the ladder from the equivalent of a prison work crew. I promise. But, for now, I’m just wondering where in the hell my non-white overalls are for this kind of work. I can’t, you know, show up looking like a painter who’s just lost in the gardens. The police would likely be called --- that or the State’s mental health unit. And would they believe me if I declared my name to be Chaunce?

But, before I ransack the creepy closet for something gardener-like to wear, let’s rip through some news:

Bush vetoed the Dems war-funding plan. No surprise there. But how gross was it to hear Bush talk about “early withdrawals”? Ew. Sorry, George, but that’s what Laura dreams about. Well, actually, she probably hopes you never enter. I can here her now: “Oh, George, can’t you go do Condi again?”

But the most hysterical part of Bush’s silly little veto message was his reference to an early withdrawal plan leading to “chaos” in Iraq. What the fuck? Does this man ever watch the news? Ladies and gentlemen, we are a nation being led by a complete and total ass-face. And, yes, it is time to hit the panic button. Now.

Oh yeah, that panic button is the rather orderly process called impeachment. And, oh yeah, the navel-gazing Dems still think it’s an irrational option to an ape-shit crazy maniac. Go figure.

Speaking of the Dems, get ready to watch them fold like a cheap suit in this little game of chicken they’re playing with Bush. In fact, the rhetoric of retreat that they speak so well has already begun. Joe Biden, for example, is now calling the “deadlines” in the funding bill mere “target dates.” Yep. Beep, beep, beep and back they go. That was hard to predict. Not.

Oh, and how is that great Leahy attack on the Justice Department going? While the Vermont Dems continue to piss themselves with excitement over St. Pat’s national huffing and puffing, let me remind them that the prosecutors who were fired remain fired and Gonzales is still proudly showing up to work everyday as the Attorney General. So about the only thing that has changed is that the Vermont liberal elite has now added another ring around St. Pat’s halo. Yawn.

So are you starting to see the pattern here, boys and girls? The people – yeah us – see very clearly that this war must be stopped now and that Bush must be chased from the White House. But the Dem ninnies who are supposed to be representing us just keep doing anything and everything BUT what we’re asking for. Instead, they’re posing and preening for the cameras in one desperate attempt after another to act like they’re listening and feeling our pain.

Yo Pat, Bernie and Peter: Fuck the hearings. We want action. And we want it now.

Finally, speaking of con games, the New York Times’ Andrew Revkin wrote a nice little article on Sunday that poked some mighty fine holes in this stupid “carbon-neutral” game that our own Peter Welch is so faithfully playing. Yeah, you know the game, it’s where rich kids like Pete pay to pollute. It’s the latest in the great liberal-guilt-reduction game.

Here’s how Revkin quotes Dennis Hayes of Earth Day fame (another silly hoax – one fucking day?) on the carbon-neutral scam:

The worst of the carbon-offset programs resemble the Catholic Church’s sale of indulgences back before the Reformation. Instead of reducing their carbon footprints, people take private jets and stretch limo, and then think they can buy an indulgence to forgive their sins.

Yep, that’s how millionaires like Welch think. Life’s one big payoff!

Speaking of millionaires, I’ve got to go pull their weeds. Perhaps I’ll take a piss where I’m not supposed to….

Snark on. And keep writing me at: