Anybody watching the constitutionally mandated infotainment show on TV tonight? I’ve just gotten into binge watching The Killing on Netflix (no affiliate link), so I don’t know. The Killing has an interesting plot that keeps you guessing, but is very low key and understated, kinda slow moving and dark themed. The show on The Hill, conversely, is noisy, fast paced and glamorous, but the acting isn’t very convincing; like a scripted reality show (I say this based on previous experience). It’s a tossup. I could go either way. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m on the fence about the whole thing. Choices, just too many goddamn choices on TV these days. Not really. They guy (gal?) who invented DVR is probably doing quite well financially.
I know he’s not, but it can’t be long now and I’d like to get a head start for SEO purposes. I know some of you might find it tasteless, but some guy bought the domain christoperhitchensdead.com (or a name to that effect, I can’t remember 100%) the day the news was released that Christopher Hitchens was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch, it’s just an experiment. It’s not like all the major news outlets don’t have his eulogy on file already. Just to clarify, Nelson Mandela is NOT dead at the time of this writing. President Obama sends his condolences.
The IRS (Internal Revenue Service) harasses and discriminates against groups deemed to be a political annoyance seeking tax exempt status, effectively trying to silence the opposition.
The DoJ (Department of Justice) subpoenaed two months’ worth of phone records involving more than 100 journalists from the AP (Associated Press), effectively trying to control and monitor the press for what one must assume nefarious reasons. Such subpoenas require Attorney General Eric Holder‘s personal sign-off (impeach?).
American “diplomat” and part-time CIA recruiting officer Ryan Fogle arrested in Russia charged with trying to recruit spies for the CIA, effectively re-igniting the cold war.
Angelina Jolie has double preventative mastectomy, effectively losing both boobs.
Wayne Gretsky‘s daughter, Pauline Gretsky, instagrams photo of herself flipping the bird to a puppet of Obama, effectively making an ass of herself.
But don’t get too excited. Two months ago I couldn’t find 9mm Luger anywhere, no matter how much I was willing to pay. I’ve seen a few places recently that sold PMC Bronze for about $60/box of 50. Later I was able to procure three boxes of 9mm NATO from my local gun shop at almost $30/box, and he made me feel like he was doing me a favor (and maybe he was).
I just found 1,000 rounds of factory reloads for $665 at AmmoForSale.com. That’s still almost three times what I would expect to pay pre 12-14-12, and it will be a cold day in hell before I pay as much for 1,000 rounds of practice ammunition as a brand new Glock would set me back.
I don’t know if the inflated prices reflect a genuine price increase that retailers pass on to the customer, or if they’re just fleecing gun owners desperate to pursue their passion. Either way, I have time to wait. When this crisis is over (if ever), I will make a point of having an ample supply on hand at all times (you know, for when Obama’s jackbooted thugs show up at my house to take away my freedoms).
If you know of a decent source please leave a comment or use the contact form. I’m looking for 9mm and .22 LR. In return I will let you have my firstborn daughter.
I’ve been saving brass for over a year with the intention to get into reloading, but as I understand components are as hard to find as the finished product. I’ve been researching the subject for a long time, but the more you read, the more confused you get. So for now I’ll just continue to collect my brass just in case.
I think Romney violated one of his articles of faith and had some Red Bull before he went on stage last night. He may go to hell for it, but it paid off for him (in the short term, I don’t think he’ll enjoy hell). He looked energized, confident, even comfortable (for the first time in the entire campaign) and dominated the debate.
I don’t know what Obama had been drinking, maybe somebody slipped him a mickey; he looked unprepared, timid at times, and dazed by Mittens’ attacks. At first I thought maybe he was rope-a-doping, letting Willard tire himself out, but he never came off the ropes like Ali did, and the punishment continued. While it didn’t end in a KO, it was, in my expert opinion as a couch pundit, a victory for Romney. Not so much in content (Romney was his usual, lying self), but in performance, and that’s probably what matters most to a largely uninformed, ignorant and attention-span challenged electorate.
Oh yeah, Jim Lehrer just had to have his last moment of glory, but failed miserably. Instead of going out on a high-note, he fizzled out with a whimper. He was aiming for Greatest Moderator in history, instead he will be remembered as a doormat. Hubris will get you in the end
FYI, this isn’t news; it happened 147 years ago, but it’s worth repeating.
The Civil War interfered with Colonel P.H. Anderson’s, of Big Spring Tennessee, ability to own slaves (since they were emancipated and all) and run his farm, so he wrote a letter to one of his former slaves, Jourdan Anderson, asking him to come back to work for him. While not saying so outright, from the sarcasm in Jourdan’s response, the ex-slave clearly is telling his former owner to go fuck himself, and remarkably eloquently to boot. This is what happens when we teach the niggers how to read and write.
August 7, 1865
To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor’s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams’s Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.
In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant,
I’ll tell you what: corporate corruption. There are exactly four players in the game of health care fuckyouover. 1. Doctors/hospitals, i.e. the actual providers of the hands-on health care. 2. Pharmaceutical companies. The corporations that manufacture the medicine that’s supposed to cure you. 3. Insurance companies, the people who pay for most of your health care (if you’re lucky enough to have insurance in the first place). 4. You, the patient.
Here’s the deal, and what makes it so fucked up. Doctors and hospitals make money (profit) when you use their services. There is a financial incentive for them to treat you as much as possible, whether you need it or not. Pharmaceutical companies make money when doctors prescribe drugs to you. There is an unhealthy relationship between doctors and pharma, and a financial incentive for both to make you take as many drugs as possible at the highest possible price for the longest period possible. Insurance companies pay for doctors and drugs. They make money by collecting premiums. There is a financial incentive for insurance companies to hike up the premiums as much as possible and deny you coverage whenever they can get away with it. The patient ends up being fucked over six ways from Sunday.
I’ve been seeing a gastroenterologist, Dr Jonathan T Simon with Gastroenterology Specialists PC, 22 Westfield Avenue in Ansonia, CT, for some stomach problems I’ve been having lately. The guy is a total douchebag who would rather do conveyor belt colonoscopies than actually listen to his patients and suggest reasonable treatments. He diagnosed me off the bat with irritable bowel syndrome and suggested I eat more fiber. When I asked him if there was a treatment, he rolled his eyes and proclaimed that there “is no silver bullet for IBS”, and that was it.
Of course we set up a follow-up appointment, and when I two months later showed no improvement from his non-treatment (go figure) he gave me a prescription for an antibiotic called Xifaxan (Rifaximin). He let me know that my insurance probably wouldn’t pay for it since it was a bit on the pricey side, and that was it. I could tell you more about Dr Simon, but for now, suffice to say that the guy is a total cocksucker and I would recommend him to my worst enemy.
At the pharmacy they let me know that my insurance actually covered the medication (!) and my co-pay was $40, which, when I tell you the retail price of Xifaxan, isn’t all that bad. Without insurance a ten-day supply of Xifaxan, sixty tablets total, would have cost me $795.99. No matter how you spin it, that’s a FUCKING INDECENT PRICE! I would expect medication in this price range to be made primarily of gold, diamonds and the hymens of angels, and to cure AIDS, Alzheimer’s, cancer AND grow me a new and better penis.
So I’m guessing you can tell that I’m pissed off at “the best healthcare system in the world”, as republicans refer to it. The free market fixes everything, except it doesn’t. If you’re happy with an industry flourishing off of people’s bad fortune, pain and misery; if you’re comfortable with the indecent inverse proportionality between executive bonus growth and the decline of your health; if you’re happy with a political system where the lobbyists write the laws and you are the least influential and important of the aforementioned four players in the health care game; if you are not offended by the hidden dictatorship of K-Street and the Koch brothers, by all means vote for the Republican candidate in November. Obama is a two-faced douche, but orders of magnitude better than anything the opposition can come up with.
So tonight (actually yesterday, since we’re past midnight) President Obama fulfilled his constitutional obligation to inform Congress about the state of the Union. I’m boycotting the event to catch an episode of The Sopranos.
He shall from time to time give to Congress information of the State of the Union and recommend to their Consideration such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.
— Article II, Section 3 of the U.S. Constitution
There’s nothing in there that says it has to be a two-hour posturing feast for President and Congress alike. Obama could have sent an email memo to all the members of Congress, or posted a 10-minute video on YouTube and be done with it. I know what will be said; I could have written the speech myself. I know how the opposition will react, I know how the GOP presidential wannabes will spin it to make Obama look like Pol Pot and I know what the talking heads will say. It’s Washington showboating as usual. I just can’t be bothered right now.
So, tonight we find out who the next President of The United States of America will be. Buh-bye, Obama!
No? Oh, it’s the first in a series of GOP primaries to determine who Obama’s opponent will be in November.
Oh wait, it’s the latest (but, alas, not the last) act in that traveling freak show of liars, gangsters, corporate stooges and spineless fucktards who believe the world would be a better place if only he/she were in control. Never mind.
Here’s my New Year’s greeting the the Prez:
I voted for you in 2008 and will do so again in 2012, but only because you’re the lesser of the evils we get to choose from. In fact I may opt out of the election completely. You had me fooled for a while with the whole “Change” and “Yes, we can” thing. You’re a corporate stooge like the rest of ’em.
Send yours too. After you click the Sign button, they’ll beg you for money. Giving is optional.