Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Little Soldier

Hi, I'm Dick Cheney's penis. I know, I know, it's hard to see me because I'm so small. But listen, I really hope there's another terrorist attack soon. I have been so limp for so long, I almost can't remember what it's like to be erect. I seriously have not been fully erect since those guys flew those planes into the World Trade Center. Man, that was great. Two and a half full inches of raging, turgid, man-meat. You have no idea how fat I was then, and for days and days without flagging. Oh, how hard I was. I almost didn't mind being shoved up Alberto's stinking, Mexican ass, that's how hard I was.

I'm sure I'm speaking for every dick in the PNAC when I say that we were all feeling pretty sad for a long time because nobody would take our idea of invading Iraq seriously. We knew it would be a real wank-fest if we could just kill a few towel-heads and start strutting like cocks on the walk and sucking all the juicy crude up from beneath that sandy hell-hole of a country. We knew it would be an awesome adventure and everyone would be so envious of us. But no one would listen. No no no, it would be disastrous, they said. The rest of the world will hate us, they said. Too many of our troops will die, they said. Peace, freedom, justice, blah blah blah, bunch of fucking pussies. Honestly, no one would give our brilliant scheme the time of day. It was so humiliating.

So when those buildings crashed and burned, we (the respective cocks of guys like Dick Cheney, Karl Rove, Jeb Bush, Donald Rumsfeld, and Paul Wolfowitz) collectively blew the biggest fucking load we have ever blown in our entire fucking lives. Imagine us all curled up like sad little dicks, sweating in the dark, humid confines of our trousers, sitting there stewing in our depression, wondering why we never seem to get the credit we deserve for being such upstanding dicks, drooling our despair into our silk boxer shorts, when all of a sudden, bang! We had our solution. Yeah! Splooge city! That was so fucking awesome! We knew right then that the American people would go along with us no matter what kind of crackpot nonsense we might spew now. Because of what those assholes from Saudi Arabia did to those towers we knew we had a blank check to blow up the towel-headed nation of our choice. Yippee!! Now we can invade Iraq, just like we always wanted. Not like it matters that Iraq had nothing to do with the attack at all: no one in America can tell any of those fucking camel-jockeys apart. And besides we couldn't very well go after Saudi Fucking Arabia could we, the Bin Laden family would be so upset with us. Duh.

So anywayz... that was awesome being so rock hard for so long. I remember all the tough talk Dick made from inside the bunker. Oh man, he nearly rubbed me raw, but it was worth it. Oh the mess I made. But it's been a while now. Frankly, the only time I've popped recently was when Dick shot that guy in the face. That was it. And it really wasn't that great of a load because of all the people around. I hope next time he thinks to use Air Force One instead of a limo to go shoot anyone, it's so much more private.

So what I'm trying to say is I need some more. I'm like a junky and I really need another fix. But nothing Dick does these days is really working. The Abu Ghraib photos aren't even working anymore. And Guantanamo has been getting so much media attention lately that it's no longer practical to sneak over there and waterboard a few detainees for a quick jerk. I'm desperate for another good ejaculation, and nothing short of the kind of disaster that will send normal, thinking Americans into a blind fury will suffice. I sure hope something bad happens soon, otherwise I may wither up and fall off.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Government at its Best

The other day I dropped a pen.

When I bent over to pick it up, all of a sudden I realized Treasury Secretary John Snow's nose was up my ass.

I said, "Why is your nose up my ass?"

He said, "It is vital to the war on terror that my nose is up your ass."

Treasury Secretary John Snow then said that the nose-up-my-ass effort is "government at its best" and it is "entirely consistent with our democratic values, with our best legal traditions."

Snow went on to say, "By keeping my nose up your ass, we've been able to locate operatives, we've been able to locate their financiers, we've been able to chart the terrorist networks and we've been able to bring the terrorists to justice." Then he said, "If al-Qaida is up your ass, we want to know about it."

Then Vice President Dick Cheney waddled in, "What I find most disturbing about the al-Qaida-is-up-your-ass stories is that some of the news media take it upon themselves to disclose these vital national security programs, thereby making it more difficult for us to climb quietly up the asses of the American people." Then Cheney squawked, "That offends me."

Slipping quietly out of Vice President Dick Cheney's ass, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales said, "The Justice Department has reviewed the program and we believe it is awesome. It's really just super."

Poking his head out of Vice President Dick Cheney's ass, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld then said, "And you can be sure that when, I mean, if the next, I mean, another terrorist attack strikes in, on, around, or umm... within the continental United States it will be because we haven't looked far enough up your ass. It's the only way to stop the terrorists, bless your heart."

The president wanted to add to the conversation, I could tell, but Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld wouldn't move out of the way.

Never did find that pen.

Friday, June 16, 2006

I Pee on the Floor

Not on purpose, mind you. It just happens.

It goes like this: step up to the urinal, tackle out, quick check to establish targeting, let her rip.

I've done this so many times, thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. I don't really pay very much attention. Pretty much I'm on auto-pilot. My head angles back and slightly to the left. I stare up at the wall, study the tiles, examine the light fixtures, and pretty much just daydream for a little while. Using my ears to monitor accuracy, adjustments to trajectory are made automatically, almost unconsciously. I'm relaxed. It's like a mini-vacation from work.

It took a long time to even notice the puddle.

When I finally did, I would look at the puddle as I moved away and sneer at it, "What kind of jackass pees on the floor?" The parents of the guy that did that must be really low-down.

Over time a grain of doubt, a spec of self-suspicion crept into my mind. I began to wonder, in a purely theoretical way, if I could be the culprit. Being nearly inconceivable, I didn't put much weight behind the notion, but I did wonder, on occasion, just a little.

Eventually I decided to do the bare minimum to discover if I had anything to do with it: I would check the floor before doing my business so I would have a frame of reference with which to compare my observations afterwards. This is a much easier thing to plan than to actually do. While I really only want to accomplish one thing in that room (well, two things, but that's a different post), it does not take much to distract me. In fact, toddlers generally have a longer attention span than I do. And the idea to check the floor pretty much only occurs to me as I walk away from the urinal. So generally, I'm done before I remember. But I persevered.

Eventually I came to realize that I was, indeed, peeing on the floor.

How did this happen? At what point did I become such white trash? I've been doing this for years (quite a few) and would like to think with all that practice I'd be pretty good at it by now. Accuracy, for instance, should be second nature. But the evidence is plain enough. Maybe I've never been the sharp-shooter I imagined myself to be. Tragic.

I'm not going to clean it up or anything, but it does bug me just a little bit.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Just Trying to Help

I was an AOL subscriber once. Thanks to a lot of therapy, I can now admit that. I know it wasn't my fault. It was 1997 and I didn't know any better. I originally became interested in the Internet because I heard that you could see pictures of ladies' thingies and stuff. I thought AOL was the way to go because everyone was doing it. But I didn't know the dangers involved. Sure the chat rooms were fun (many marvel at the speed of my one-handed typing even today), but eventually the dirty feeling became too much.

Fortunately, back then AOL customer service representatives spoke down to you as if they were the chosen few, the elite AOL CSRs, chosen by providence to dispense or withhold access to that most holy of places, the AOL Universe. Really all you had to do was type one word out of place and they would threaten to cancel your account anyway (at which point subscribers would normally beg--NO PLEASE, I'll give you my first born! Anything! Even my Star Wars characters figurine collection! Just don't cancel my account!). So, because they didn't care so much about retention back then, it was easy for me to quit.

Now, apparently, things are different. AOL is on the rocks and the dwindling number of people willing to be associated with what is essentially the tenement slums of the Internet (actually, I think myspace is stealing even that title from them) is driving them to change their tune and try hard to prevent people from leaving.

For those who are ready to quit using AOL, here is a list of reasons/motivations you can use to explain your actions to the AOL customer service representative, and thereby minimize the hassle he or she has been ordered to give you:

11. Gouged out eyes after seeing the cat that chased a bear up a tree for the millionth time.

10. Would like to stop being associated with the largest group of eternal-newbies on the Web.

9. No longer accept email.

8. Joined a mega-church that has an exclusive deal with Comcast.

7. A close family member was killed by an avalanche of AOL CDs when she opened her P.O. box after a short vacation.

6. Terrified of being among the last to leave the sinking ship.

5. Don't want to be around when AOL finally goes belly-up in a ditch off the Information Superhighway.

4. Never liked Sleepless in Seattle anyway.

3. Have run out of patience with obstructive customer service representatives.

2. Have decided the Internet is the work of Satan and will be devoting life to making it stop.

1. Can no longer live with the shame of being an AOL subscriber.

Good luck!

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Diversity

Get some!

You want it in your stock portfolio. You want it in your gene pool. You want it in a free market. It's pretty much always good.

So why are we so stuck on oil? When it comes to petroleum we have put all our yams in the same bag. Seems like anyone who was paying attention would see this as a bad idea. Kinda' like the Potato Famine in Ireland, if our single source of energy turns bad, we're good and screwed.

But we can buy oil from Canada, and South America, and Africa, as well as the Middle East. That's diversity, isn't it? Well, it's all coming from the same planet. So, no, I don't think so.

And besides, have you noticed that countries that derive their wealth mostly or exclusively from selling oil are pretty much run by huge dicks? Hugo Chavez, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo, Muammar Qadhafi, all these guys are huge pricks who get to spout off anytime they want because of one thing: oil wealth.

And who is supplying all that wealth? Hey it's you and me, my fellow Americans! Yay! Hooray for us! We're so great.

Every 4-strokes of intake, compression, combustion, and exhaust (oh yeah, we love the exhaust) sings a song of support for the worlds biggest assholes.

Saudi Arabian schools teach their studentry that Jews are pigs and Christians are dogs and so foster an environment that their brand of fundamentalist wing-nuts can feel comfortable in, nurturing their hate, giving rise to organizations like Al Queda, and doing whatever the hell they want. It's a great system, and we're the ones paying for it! Yay, we're the best! Let's have the Bin Laden family over for dinner. President Bush will show them our gratitude for all they've done for us. Yes, the Bushes and the Bin Ladens are great friends. Isn't that great?

We were suckered into this situation by the oil men. They sold us out and continue to do so. They told us oil would be a panacea that we could use to power every aspect of our lives, make our clothes out of, our carpets, our disposable cups, our fertilizers, but what we really got was a petro-chemical noose that every single one of our necks is in right now.

The obvious solution: we need diversity in our fuel sources. That way if one goes bad we have alternatives. If the spud goes bad (or the shrub), toss it out and eat a turnip.

Sounds so simple, so why am I still worried?