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Showing posts from February 18, 2007

Water under it.

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Empty again, eh? Throw another bucket down there. Was that a ker-plunk I heard just then? No? Okay, okay. Dry as a bone, I guess. Saints preserve us... not that they have any reason to. What the hell — we're not saints... Pardon my mental meandering. We're just working our way through another one of those "issues" (or what honest people call "pains in the ass") that crop up from time to time when you're squatting in an abandoned hammer mill. Don't know if you've ever had the pleasure. Actually, it's not that different from sleeping out in the road. Cold all winter, hot all summer. Every spring, a river runs through it. And now, because of the freak weather, we can't find the water table. Now, before you ask how anyone could build a table out of water, let me just pre-empt you by saying that I do, in fact, mean the aquifer we draw upon for our sustenance. No, we haven't paid the water bill — that takes money (or as Democratic fundraisi

Miller's heroes.

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We seem to be headed, once again, down that treacherous path that leads to unprovoked war. Would such a course be possible were it not for the willing participation of the major national news media? Indeed, some of the mighty organs of the American press that felt compelled to apologize when the Iraq war rationales they so enthusiastically peddled fell apart are now engaging in the very same sort of behavior that brought on the mea culpas . Like the many politicians who supported this seemingly endless war at the outset, the press is only sorry that Bush/Cheney's Iraq adventure wasn't a swift success. The thing they're decidedly not sorry for is the fact that they helped send thousands to their deaths needlessly. For this, they couldn't care less. And you can bet politicians, pundits, and Pulitzer-prizewinning scribblers will raise a collective cheer for war with Iran if they see short-term benefit in it. Still, this time around, the dossier against our potential enemy

One Framistat Short

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Flashlight. Anti-static wrist band. Screwdriver. Vise-grips. Oscillator. Got everything... except the part we're installing. Mitch! Oh, hello. I do apologize. Seems like every time you drop by, I'm hollering something at someone in our motley entourage, and typically that someone is Mitch Macaphee, our resident mad scientist. Sad that Big Green has fallen to such a base level of discourse. I remember the days when... when... excuse me... What the fuck is that noise? Can't you fucking morons keep quiet for five seconds? Jesus jumping Christ on a bike!! Ahem. Yes... where was I? Ah, yeah. I've tried to keep us on a civil track here at the Cheney Hammer Mill, honestly I have. But it's almost as though an evil spirit has taken hold — the spirit of Cheneys past. It's nearly... just a minute... I'm telling our valued readers about how much we regret our recent resort to harsh words, you ass-munching dick-head! All right. What is the bone of contention this week

Springtime for Dubya

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I guess I'm just supposed to get annoyed at the president — Rove and the boys just love getting a rise out of people like me. Though I hate to encourage them, it is irritating as hell to watch or hear Dubya at one of his press conferences. I mean, there's something about an obvious idiot talking down to you that is just innately insulting. Then, of course, there's the scummy substance of what he has to say... like suggesting that he's only "protecting the troops" when he openly attempts to provoke Iran, thereby pissing off about half of the Shi'a Muslims in Iraq (in other words, 30% of the population). In a country where a majority already supports armed attacks against U.S. troops, how is this a good idea? Then there's Bush's speculation about how history will judge us if we "fail" in Iraq — let that happen and future generations will ask, "Where were they?" (Huh?) That's the boy in the bubble talking... and he's talkin