So Whazzap?
September 18th, 2011 at 10:50 am by Preston Taylor HolmesIt’s been a while. How you been? You still doin’ that stuff you do? Thought so. Me, I’ve been watching the idiots in D.C. fall all over themselves, pretending to come up with ideas that are going to save the economy. Rethuglican or Dim-O-Crack, doesn’t matter. None of them are prepared to do what needs to be done to actually “fix” the economy, because that “fix” would leave them unable to continue robbing from the public coffers, and, let’s face it, they’re all in it for the graft. At some point, you just have to look at the list of GOP “contenders” and COOTUS and say to yourself: We’re just plain-old fucked.
At least we have some comedy with COOTUS bouncing from airport to airport touting his new “jobs bill”. I know he doesn’t mean to be funny, but how can you do anything but laugh at this douche? It helps that he’s been semi-neutered by a limp-wristed GOP House, otherwise, it might not be quite as funny. A little Steyn helps, though.
“I love you, too,” said the president. “But… .”
Oh, no, here it comes: conditional love. “But, if you love me, you’ve got to help me pass this bill!” You’d be surprised how effective this line is: I tried it on Darlene in the back of my Ford Edsel when I was 17, and we didn’t get home till two in the morning.
Heh. I never had the guts to try that line, but I encourage all you youngsters to give it a shot. What do you have to lose, really?
That’s how he got elected, isn’t it? Just repeat the same meaningless tripe until it turns into a chant and *bingo*, you’re COOTUS.
At this point, who is going to loan us a buck or two? Mr. T? I don’t think so.
So, we all sit back, kick our feet up, accept the fact that everything we once assumed about our economy, investments, retirement, etc, no longer applies. In the meantime, go long on ammo and canned goods, baby.
As for me, I’ve found riding bikes with the kids much more rewarding than the blogosphere so cut me some slack. And thanks for checking in Chuck. We’ll still be here until the speech police come and haul us away.













Mr. Doofus, guest columnist at The Therapist, asks 


