My friend Sunny, presently residing in mysterious and lovely Deseret, sometimes known as Zion, West (or perhaps just Salt Lake City) sent me this ominously hopeful poem she found:

LUNAR ECLIPSE

The God of Shadows eats the harvest moon
And paints with bloody tinge upon his face,
Perhaps foretelling victory for him
Whose states and shires bear the noble red.

As ancients learned in bygone days long past
Such signs and portents cannot be gainsaid
The heavens speak, if silently, each night
The Blue can only view with growing dread!

-Jeffrey Hull

Sunny mentions working at “a job which put me at the physical (as opposed to metaphysical) center of the ugly election season we’re all enduring.” and concludes “A hard month, and who knows what’s to come?” Indeed.

Blood red moon. Election moon.

…for the upcoming civil war:

(Mad propz to the Adept, revelator and delineator of the above apocalyptic vision)

I’m kicking myself for not connecting the dots on this (having seen Micheal Moore’s extended political commercial just a week ago):

Bin Laden suggested Bush was slow to react to the Sept. 11 attacks, giving the hijackers more time than they expected. At the time of the attacks, the president was listening to schoolchildren in Florida reading a book.

“It never occurred to us that the commander-in-chief of the American armed forces would leave 50,000 of his citizens in the two towers to face these horrors alone,” he said, referring to the number of people who worked at the World Trade Center.

“It appeared to him (Bush) that a little girl’s talk about her goat and its butting was more important than the planes and their butting of the skyscrapers. That gave us three times the required time to carry out the operations, thank God,” he said.

Colby Cosh points it out:

The really sick joke here is that OBL–who interrupts his diatribe for a supremely clumsy joke about “My Pet Goat”–shows clear indications of having watched Fahrenheit 911. I’d always heard it was pretty easy to get pirated DVDs in the Middle East.

Just so you know.

I just spent fourteen minutes deleting twenty-six of your lame-ass spam ads for drugs I don’t need and would never buy from your website if I did, and online games of some type which I don’t play and would never play at a spammer’s site if I decided to. That’s fourteen minutes that I will never get back. Kennedy could probably have deleted them more easily, but with him inexplicably AWOL I decided to remove them manually so that you don’t get one second more of free advertising than I can help.

Whoever you are, may neighborhood kids steal the hood ornament off your car. May you get inflamed ingrown hairs inside both nostrils. May you have uncontrollable diarrhea, and run out of toilet paper this afternoon. May you advance medical science by having a particularly personal, embarassing, and incurable fungal infection named after you. May your servers be infested by a thousand worms. May your spouse find your porn directory when [s]he is having a particularly bad day and is holding a heavy, blunt instrument. May all your toenails ooze pus, turn greenish-black, and fall off.

I hope you get eaten by alligators.

Sabotta, send in lung.

Little Tony was sitting on a park bench munching on one candy bar after another. After the 6th candy bar, a man on the bench across from him said, “Son, you know eating all that candy isn’t good for you. It will give you acne, rot your teeth, and make you fat.”

Little Tony replied, “My grandfather lived to be 107 years old.”

The man asked, “Did your grandfather eat 6 candy bars at a time?”

Little Tony answered, “No, he minded his own fucking business.”
– Guns And Dope Party Position Paper #23.

Social justice continues in the far Northwest:

The King County Council approved rules last night that would restrict development on rural land, over objections that the changes are draconian and would entangle the county in lawsuits.

…

The most controversial of the changes would require rural residents to leave between one-third and one-half of their land in a natural state, depending on lot size.

That’s right - a handful of Seattle liberals are snatching up a good half of other people’s land and turning it into a collective-farm nature preserve, all on the victims’ dime.

“Private property” - what a sick fucking joke that phrase is.

Right there is your bloody “democracy” folks - a bare majority of professional jobholders taking your production in order to appeal to their whack-job hard core urbanite constituency. But don’t worry, there’ll be a sure legal challenge on the grounds that this new power-grab doesn’t provide enough “public benefit”, thus cementing further into law the idea that your life is just so much fodder for the public trough. Way to stand on principle, Republicans.

Some days I swear I could vomit pure bile, and the fact that in less than a week, untold millions of you are going out there to vote for creatures like these just makes it that much worse.

My friend Clint describes the Playstation II game, MANHUNT:

After you make it through one hellhole, which usually takes a couple-three hours of watching people chatting about what a pussy you are and how they can’t wait to murder you, a SWAT team is usually waiting for you outside.
They swarm you, stuff you in a paddy wagon, then drop you off into the next pit of despair.

One of the two worthless free Seattle rags has kindly provided a voting guide, apparantly afraid that the usual local conformism and mindless mass hysteria might still not do the job of perserving perfect unity among the voting masses. The Stranger is made up of slobbering faux-alternative types, pretend-radicals, passive-aggressive fighters for justice, all really Emmett Watsons in waiting, hoping to get the call from the Times or the P-I. The senior Emmett Watson was an amazingly tedious local newspaper columnist who wrote heartwarming stories about local beloved characters like himself. In his old age he opened a restaurant which may or may not still exist. After that he may or may not have died. This ambigious fate is one which all “alternative” journalists aspire to.

The STRANGER claims that the “Stranger Department of Homeland Security” is “Erica C. Barnett, Josh Feit, Amy Jenniges, Sandeep Kaushik, Tim Keck, Dan Savage, Annie Wagner, and Mason Bryant.” but the Guide appears to have been mostly written by well-known progressive and political scumbag Josh Feit, a creepy little creep who, when not writing about the endlessly fascinating doings of fellow creepy little creeps in city government, likes to indulge in sentimental trips down Memory Lane like

“I went to high school longer ago than I care to mention, long enough ago that I remember sprinting home from the school bus in gleeful expectation, rushing to turn on the TV because word was that President Reagan had been shot…(Too bad Hinckley wasn’t a better shot.)”

Those caring, sharing liberals! Feit also favors us with this lofty pronouncement:

I-884 Penny Sales Tax for Schools

Vote Yes
This initiative boosts the state sales tax by 1 percent, which raises a billion dollars for education. While we agree that a sales tax is regressive, hitting the poor the hardest, this initiative pours money into important things like early education, teacher pay, and additional higher education seats–in other words, things that help the poor. Vote yes.

In other words, you fucking ignorant poor people Josh Feit knows better how to spend your money than you do! “More money for Democrat teachers is more important than mac n’ cheese for your whining brats! Fuck you, poor people! FUCK YOU!” shrieks Feit.

Libertarians who think the road to social and/or political success is best achieved by sucking up to liberals should note carefully the open contempt they- and their pitiable Party - are subjected to in this guide. However, for some people, some dreams are just too stupid to give up.

Finally, after a frothing-at-the-mouth endorsement of Kerry, our man Feit (or one of the other infected zombie-things at the Stranger) gets down to brass tacks:

Four more years of Bush is a recipe for (further) disaster. We urge you to vote for the badass from Massachusetts.

And if Bush wins? Let’s riot, you motherfuckers.

While the prospect of a rioting Stranger staff is perhaps less than intimidating, still, the intention is there and is duly noted. Ah, for the old days, when civil disorder was dealt with in [url=http://www.civilwarhome.com/berensor.htm]the good old fashioned way”>

“I went to high school longer ago than I care to mention, long enough ago that I remember sprinting home from the school bus in gleeful expectation, rushing to turn on the TV because word was that President Reagan had been shot…(Too bad Hinckley wasn’t a better shot.)”

Those caring, sharing liberals! Feit also favors us with this lofty pronouncement:

I-884 Penny Sales Tax for Schools

Vote Yes
This initiative boosts the state sales tax by 1 percent, which raises a billion dollars for education. While we agree that a sales tax is regressive, hitting the poor the hardest, this initiative pours money into important things like early education, teacher pay, and additional higher education seats–in other words, things that help the poor. Vote yes.

In other words, you fucking ignorant poor people Josh Feit knows better how to spend your money than you do! “More money for Democrat teachers is more important than mac n’ cheese for your whining brats! Fuck you, poor people! FUCK YOU!” shrieks Feit.

Libertarians who think the road to social and/or political success is best achieved by sucking up to liberals should note carefully the open contempt they- and their pitiable Party - are subjected to in this guide. However, for some people, some dreams are just too stupid to give up.

Finally, after a frothing-at-the-mouth endorsement of Kerry, our man Feit (or one of the other infected zombie-things at the Stranger) gets down to brass tacks:

Four more years of Bush is a recipe for (further) disaster. We urge you to vote for the badass from Massachusetts.

And if Bush wins? Let’s riot, you motherfuckers.

While the prospect of a rioting Stranger staff is perhaps less than intimidating, still, the intention is there and is duly noted. Ah, for the old days, when civil disorder was dealt with in [url=http://www.civilwarhome.com/berensor.htm]the good old fashioned way- with grapeshot and the bayonet!

The intersection of Josh Feit’s head and a flying five-pound iron ball would be both messy and sad - but could it happen to a more deserving fellow?

The discerning will be glad to note that The Decemberists have been signed to provide the wretched, atonal, and vaguely creepy soundtrack for our upcoming second-rate and vaguely creepy Second Civil War:

(Listen to This Soldiering Life while reading this. )

(The caption to this photo on The Decemberists’ website reads: “The regiment finds needed respite from their dogged march.” Christ. One thing is for certain; if the Decemberists were transported back to the 1860s, all contending parties - Northerners, Southerners, plantation owners, jayhawkers, bushwackers, abolitionists, John Brown, the slaves and even the French armies in Mexico - would have settled all their differences and united to concentrate on stopping that infernal racket. “A house united against Colin Meloy’s singing can never fall” - A. Lincoln.)

Pluto’s namesake was Roman mythology’s ruler of the underworld –seemingly an apt inspiration for a locomotive-size missile that would travel at near-treetop level at three times the speed of sound, tossing out hydrogen bombs as it roared overhead. Pluto’s designers calculated that its shock wave alone might kill people on the ground. Then there was the problem of fallout. In addition to gamma and neutron radiation from the unshielded reactor, Pluto’s nuclear ramjet would spew fission fragments out in its exhaust as it flew by. (One enterprising weaponeer had a plan to turn an obvious peace-time liability into a wartime asset: he suggested flying the radioactive rocket back and forth over the Soviet Union after it had dropped its bombs.)

This would give the bastards who walk around day and night in their Che Guevara T-shirts something to think about. Judging from all the Kerry signs, they ought to run the thing back and forth over Ballard.

And yet, what could equal the terror of Ghost Bunny? For the sake of Julie Keene and Okay Pants God refrains from allowing the world’s well-deserved destruction. And if you’re really scared this Halloween, keep in mind that ghosts fear prize-winning ghost eating Posted in General | 2 Comments »