Tag Archives: Congressional Mayhem

The American Scab Dream: Will Work for Congressional Crumbs

Is it just me, or has anyone else noticed that our rapidly ailing Democracy is suffering from schizophrenia? My other 16 personalities tend to agree.

Our Democracy, the best form of government money can buy (just ask China), flexed its bipartisan bipolar muscle Friday night as the possibility of a government shutdown loomed over Corporate Hill. While watching whether our Do Nothing Congress was going to let the ball drop on the budget at the midnight hour, 16/17 of me wanted them to reach an agreement, thus averting the worst teabaggin’ in U.S. History.

Besides, that’s their damn job and why We’re paying these folks, right? Congress is the only profession in America that, due to its own incompetence, can legally allow itself to shut down while elected members still receive a paycheck without having to wait in an unemployment line.

Meanwhile, the other 1/17 of the multiple me, myselves and I wanted the government to shut down. If anything, I wanted to see how a shutdown would affect the free market, namely whether a spike in pitchforks and V (from Vendetta) mask sales would follow in the shutdown’s wake. You see, I’ve been harboring a secret fantasy of becoming a U.S. Senator without having to go through all the hassles of having to run a campaign and prostitute myself to raise money for potential lobbyists pimps. After all, Congressional members are merely “Indentured Servants,” who serve corporate interests in exchange for campaign contributions, under-the-table Swedish massages and ringside seats at WWE Smackdown main events.

Had the government shut down, I could have slipped in through the chamber back door and become a Scab Senator, filling one of my representatives’ spots on the floor.

The Next Rat In: D.C or Bust!

HELP WANTED: Scab Lawmakers

Job Description: Now hiring 535 temporary workers to fill striking lawmakers’ seats in Washington, D.C. Qualified applicants will be responsible for maintaining the status quo politics-as-usual; which include but is not limited to maintaining three war fronts, keep pretending health care costs will level off some day, sign blank checks to Military Industrial Complex, create more jobs overseas, pilfer Social Security cash box when nobody’s looking, craft more unconstitutional laws that will make judicial branch look like they’re legislating from the bench when they overturn them 10 years down the road, occasionally rotate environmental issues on backburners, add a new page to the tax code every day and write mean-spirited press releases that call members on the other side of aisle mean, albeit outdated names like Commie Stooge, Socialist, Right Wingnut, Bleeding-Heart Liberal, and Poopy-Head Jerk Face.

Qualifications: A pulse (formerly possessing a pulse will suffice, so as not to discriminate against current dead weight and card-carrying Zombies serving in Congress).

First 100 minutes: Since my livelihood on the Hill will be basking in uncertainty, should a scab opportunity ever arise, I will have to act fast — something that completely bucks the current dysfunctional system in D.C. That said I plan on sponsoring the following bills during my first 100 minutes in office.

I, Scab Senator Lindsey, hereby sponsor the following bills:

-Permanently banish “politics-as-usual” from the political lexicon, not just in name only;

-Make the Unites States a neutral country and auction the Pentagon on e-Bay;

-Move the White House and Corporate Hill to the center of the country, somewhere in the rural Midwest, and build a shark-infested mote around the perimeter to keep lobbyists from preying on my fellow scabs;

-Let Texas succeed from the Union, thus whitewashing the historical implications of 3 illegal wars enacted by Texas-born presidents;

-Continually broadcasting “Ally ally oxen free! Come out come out wherever you are!” around the globe until Osama bin Laden comes out of hiding and multinational corporations return jobs and tax-sheltered money they’ve hidden overseas.

Unfortunately, Congress and President Obama rammed a blunt pitchfork through my dreams at the 11th hour, so it looks like it’s back to my current government job (at least 7/16th of me) and politics-as-usual in D.C. on Monday.

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Pssst…Don’t Tell Anyone I’m Hetero

Never in a million year did I imagine myself agreeing with former Vice President Dick Cheney, but I confess dear Civilian, I recently found myself taking my first step into the Dark Side by agreeing with Cheney that the military should repeal its “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) policy. However, truth be told, which is not an option for gays currently serving in the military, it was Cheney who agreed with me — since I opposed this half-baked (but not exhaled) policy the moment President Bill Clinton bent over on his campaign promises in 1993 and let the homophobic Congress have their way with him. (I know: bad pun; but in my defense, I am not writing about the unwritten “Don’t Ask, Don’t Pun” policy.)

Now I entrust that you, dear Civilian, will not tell anyone about my dirty little secret, for public knowledge of my foray into the Dark Side will not only disrupt the unique conditions of my civilian service to humanity but will undermine the unit cohesion of my community, which includes but is not limited to my fiancé, three impressionable sons, extended progressive political family, fellow Cold War veterans, substitute mail carrier, the neighbor’s dog Pookie and my spiritual and economic adviser Therapist Bob. Most of these folks are still reeling from the psychological ripple effects from the day I jumped out of the closet and scared the crap out of them by outing myself by finally coming to terms with my repressed heterosexuality. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Since I served in the Army during the rear-end of the Cold War (yeah, yeah, sue me…the courts always side on behalf of bad puns) during the latter part of the ‘80s, before DADT kicked in and the wall in Berlin fell, I’m not sure what it’s like to serve under this policy now — especially while the current metaphorical war, “The War on Terror,” is being waged. You know, the kind of war where people actually get killed, rather than the metaphorical death by boredom while sitting around waiting, waiting for something – anything to happen.

The previous paragraph was underwritten by America's New WAR

Flash forward to today. One of the most commonly used arguments used by opponents against the repeal of DADT, including Republican Sen. John “What Happens in A Vietnamese War Prison, Stays in a Vietnamese War Prison” McCain of Arizona, is that it will disrupt unit cohesion and effectiveness. This, by the way, is one of the underlying arguments as to why the policy was originally implemented. Based on my firsthand experiences in the Army, if the military was genuinely interested in using a policy to keep unit cohesion intact, they would have expanded the DADT policy to include racists, bigots, xenophobes, homophobes, libertarians, Christians, Mormons, Jews, Muslims, Catholics, atheists, fundamentalists, bestiality aficionados, Pastafarians and your run-of-the-mill assholes who don’t think their shit stinks.

Once the military has silenced everyone whose ideologies and/or lifestyles pose a threat to anyone elses’ comfort zone, thus threatening unit cohesion, our country would be left with an army of mimes to defend our freedoms. And the last thing we need is an army of mimes plopped into a theater of war, where, using their white-gloved hands, they’re left to defend Democracy by boxing themselves inside miniature fortresses fortified with invisible walls. Besides, if the disproportion of hate targeted at mimes in America is universal, sending mimes into battle will only fuel the hate of our enemies, who no doubt will have no reservations shooting a mime.

An Army of One: "Saving Democracy One Mime at a Time"

(For the record: let it be known that I do not condone any form of violence perpetuated on the mime community.)

Moreover, the last people we need making life-and-death decisions about what does and what does not define a cohesive unit is Congress, most of whom have never served in the military. The current deluge of bipartisanship that has flooded the Hill in D.C. has carved out a gulf so wide that the entire 8th Infantry Division, Mechanized (You heard me right, dear Civilian, I said Mechanized!) could plow down the center aisle of either chamber during a pivotal debate and nobody would even notice, their childish shouts drowning out the division’s slow, methodical advance:

Democrats: We got the majority, yes we do. We got the majority, how ‘bout you!?

Republicans: We got filibusters, yes we do. We got filibusters, watcha gonna do?

Democrats: (like an army of mimes, remain painfully silent — their painted frowns looking pathetic)

Fearing the Republicans will push the bipartisanship to the brink of going nuclear, the Democrats will inevitably concede and return to the dark recesses of the chamber closet, where they look for their teddy bears or a secret door to Narnia.

Instead of deploying an army of gay soldiers or mimes to the war front, maybe we should conscript our Do-Nothing Congress and ship them off to the front lines. However, I confess dear Civilian, the thought of dropping Congress on to the front lines of “The War on Terror” stokes more terror within the fiber of my being than the manufactured Terror that lurks in the shadows behind the Military Industrial Complex’s bloated budget.

But who am I to talk, I’m just a closeted mime. Please don’t tell anyone, dear Civilian. You know I won’t.

Originally posted on my Axis-of-Evil Step-Sister Site Confessions of a Cold War Veteran

Sen. “Tough Shit” Bunning: Get a REAL Job

I don’t imagine the 1.2 unemployed Americans waiting to see if their benefits will be extended another 30 days were amused by the latest episode of C-SPAN’s latest episode, “A Democracy of One,” on The Obstructionist (a spin-off from Seinfeld’s “show about nothing”) that aired the other night. If Seinfeld is a “show about nothing,” then The Obstructionist is “much adieu about nothing.”

Flying solo, Sen. Jim Bunning, R-Ky, hosted the show and, using an anti-democratic procedural maneuver, vowed to repeatedly block any attempts by the Senate to pass a bill that would extend unemployed benefits set to expire this weekend, despite overwhelming support from both sides of the Red-Ink Sea.

During a recent Congressional Hearing about nothing, Sen. Bunning of Kentucky uses hands to exaggerate size of his latest obstruction

But lo and behold, T.S. Bunning took the altar, stuck to his guns and objected to every attempt at trying to move forward with a vote on the bill – despite all the guilt trips left at his self-anointed feet. In fact, Sen. Jeff Merkely, D-Ore., even lowered himself to beg the Self-Anointed One, but ol’ Bunning would have none of it and replied: “Tough Shit.”

Others joined in with T.S. Bunning’s “Crusade on the Desolate,” claiming an extension of benefits will merely serve as a disincentive for these desolate people to actively seek employment. If there is a will, there’s a way right? All these folks have to do is find the Holy Grail and they will discover a stack of job applications weighted down by this glorified paper weight.

Ironically, what T.S. Bunning does not realize is that sitting on top of this illusionary heap is a stack of applications for “Do-Nothing Congressman.” Now there’s a job I would like to get my hands on. Who needs a REAL job when we can get paid to do nothing, not to mention we would get face-time on the TV to help market ourselves for a revolving-door lobbying job when we get tired of doing nothing all day long. Although as a lobbyist, we would have to shift from doing nothing to ensuring that other people do nothing.

It’s the “ensuring” part that sounds so exhausting, but when you consider your salary will grow exponentially and you’ll be able to abandon your measly Cadillac Health Insurance benefits for a Rolls-Royce policy that requires providers to pay you a co-payment every time you use their services, “ensuring” doesn’t sound so exhausting after all. So while the Desolate are out giving blood and donating plasma to help make ends meet, these fat cats are making bank on routine checkups for their kids. Unfortunately, T.S. Bunning is merely a cancerous speed bump in the current Obstructionist Movement that has spread through Congress and plagued the democratic process, which has evolved from Majority Rule to Super-Majority Rule.

Congress have become so dysfunctional (“How dysfunctional has it?”), Jerry Springer has requested to air his show live on the chamber floors as both sides of the aisle air their dirty laundry out on cable television while lawmakers in the peanut gallery flash their nipples (Don’t do it Barney, we’re begging you Mr. Frank…) for a set of beads and 15-minutes of fame on Jerry Springer’s uncut DVDs. Although no meaningful legislation will ever get enacted, at least Americans get a chance to watch old people smash chairs over each others’ heads and get restrained by formerly unemployed bouncers at D.C.’s swankiest gentlemen clubs.

After shoveling shit for 7 hours during a filibuster on the Senate floor, Mike Rowe of “Dirty Jobs” take a break off-set during a recent shooting of an upcoming episode

I wish I worked for a company that had a policy wherein if one employee doesn’t like the direction the company is moving, he or she can call in sick and the rest of the employees get to stay home as well. I mean, do we really need a full-time Congress anymore? Couldn’t we get by with hiring temp politicians, so we could cut out all their benefits, beginning with health insurance?

Better yet, like rural communities who depend on a volunteer fire department, shouldn’t we turn to a volunteer Congress to keep our citizens safe – not only from what they do do but what they do not do as well. Either way, given the way Congress is currently run, it’s like playing Russian Roulette.

Another remedy to the current Obstructionist Movement would be to give Congress a transfusion and replace all of the obstructionists with scab politicians who are willing to cross the line and make money to feed their families. With around 10 percent of our workforce unemployed, I’m sure we could find plenty of qualified people to fill these seats. What job skills do you need besides saying “aye,” “nay” and occasionally having to read aloud a script composed by a team of lobbyists?

And if Sen. Bunning has a problem with scab politicians from Kentucky crossing the line and taking his non-job, I have two words for him: “Tough Shit!”

Originally posted on my evil step-sister site Political Fallout

Jon Stewart’s Take on Sen. Bunning: The GOP’s Next Top Obstructionist

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F*** Obama’s Real Health Care Reform

My favorite 4-letter F-word is, you guessed it: FREE.

Despite the cautionary advice that “nothing is free” or “you can’t get something for nothing,” I’m a sucker for free stuff. What can I say, I’m a public school teacher, and I know better than to jump into the middle of a rabid teacher scrum when post-it pads are at stake.

If anyone has mastered giving away free stuff with an invisible price tag attached, it’s Obama, Inc. Obama the Campaigner mastered giveaway marketing during his presidential bid and has lobbed these practices into his presidential money-raising strategy. During the campaign, my addiction to free-stuff helped me procure an “Obama ‘08” bumper sticker and button, neither of which I contributed any money — despite the accompanying solicitations for donations.

Regarding the latter, I will admit that I was thoroughly disappointed when my button showed up and it was the size of a quarter and could only be seen with satellite vision. I realize size isn’t supposed to matter, but I was too embarrassed to sport my new microscopic button in public, as if the button itself symbolized my free-stuff addiction. Either that or I had an affliction of button envy and was not about to compensate for my inadequacies by sporting a flag pin on the lapel of my collared t-shirt.

More recently, Obama, Inc. was giving away free bumper stickers to help push its health care reform through the dysfunctional aisles of Congress. All I had to do was sign a petition pledging my support for President Obama’s three principles for real heath care reform.

Actual Size?

Actual Size?

Unfortunately, I will have to wait 4-6 weeks until my free bumper sticker arrives. By then, the duct tape keeping my bumper attached to my car could become unglued, much like Obama’s health care objectives once they gets tied down with red tape and green lobby money in Congress. Although 6 weeks in Congress is a mere blink-of-the-eye in the big picture of getting things accomplished. As the old saying goes, “If you don’t like the way things are going in Congress, just wait a couple of years and you still won’t like the way things are going in Congress.”

In the meantime, I’ve decided to come up with my own bumper sticker ideas, one of which I may order from an online bumper-sticker company:

1. My Other Car Is a Health Insurance Payment

2. All I Wanted Was Real Health Care Reform, and All I Got Was This Lousy Bumper Sticker

3. Shit Cancer Bankruptcy Happens!

4. W.W.J.I.? (Who Would Jesus Insure?)

5. Coming to a Hospital Near You: Attack of the Right Wingnuts Socialized Health Scare

6. Underinsured Baby on Board

7. So it goes…!

8. FREE Obama’s Real Health Care Reform!!!

Feel F*** to vote for your favorite bumper slogan (or offer up your own, hence public option) in the COMMENTS below…

Spring Forward: Daylight Savings Next Casualty in Economic Downturn

The Clock Also Rises

The Clock Also Rises

In states that still participate in Daylight Savings, which may soon be nationalized by the federal government if Americans continue to lose confidence in daylight and are reluctant to spend their time, everyone bemoans the loss of an hour – namely because they could have used the hour to reset all the clocks in the house.

But seriously, what would they have done any differently had they had that extra hour this weekend? I’m sure if we conducted a family-feudal survey, the survey’s number one answer would be: sleep. Of course this assumes that those surveyed do not have children or milk cows, whose biological clocks resist man-made cosmic alterations in the Timexian universe. By the time these biological clocks are completely recalibrated, it will be time to “Fall Back.”

In Iowa the designated witching-hour to either spring forward or fall back centers the 2 a.m. bar-closing time, thus clearing up any confusion among alcohol peddlers as to when they should stop nursing the drunks passed out at the bar. The delayed time-switch also provides the lonely beer-goggle populace an extra hour to lose even more focus as they zero in on their intended target, preferably the one in the middle – even though they’ve only locked in on one target.

Local drunk attempts to pull back clock's big hand to extend bars' "last call"

Local drunk attempts to pull back clock's big hand to extend "last call"

So why do we still have Daylight Savings, which allows Mother Nature’s invisible hand to unhinge our time-structured world without any government oversight and/or transparency? Better yet, what are some of the advantages and disadvantages of Daylight Savings and the age-old prospect of Springing Forward?

ADVANTAGES:

Less time for our Do-Nothing Congress to do less of nothing

More daylight in the evening to watch your new Plasma television

Provides excuse to take off for lunch an hour earlier or justify extending your afternoon cat nap: “Really, it’s an hour later, so…”

Get your newspaper an hour earlier, so your metabolism can get a jump start digesting all of the depressing news

Milk cows, whose teats aren’t prematurely pulled, are less likely to conspire with the pigs and the horses in overthrowing the Animal Farm and/or the government

DISADVANGAGES:

More time for the GOP-arm of our Do-Nothing Congress to obstruct Congress from doing less of nothing

If you die before ‘Fall Back,” you’ll be robbed of an hour of precious life, assuming every hour of your life is not already preciousssssssssss…

More daylight in the evening to shed even more light on the melancholic faces of those folks who have lost their jobs, homes, dignity, or thought injecting botulism into their foreheads ten years ago seemed like a good idea at the time

More time for Rush Limbaugh’s shadow to eclipse the sun, especially after he has succeeded in fully consuming the GOP

Insomniac’s more likely to join Fight Club, but we’ll never really know, because the first rule of Fight Club is never talking about Fight Club (looks like my membership has just been revoked; now what Tyler?)

The Stimulus-Plan Dating Game: How Big is Your Package?

This week “The Stimulus Plan Dating Game” hits the Senate floor for another rousing round of monetary courtship between We the Taxpayers and our three contestants, who are vying to lay claim to the Taxpayer’s Mega- Jackpot.

Before we begin, let’s meet our three contestants:

Contestant No. 1: Like most American Taxpayers, Contestant No. 1 started his illustrious career with good intentions, lobbying on behalf of responsible corporations in D.C while simultaneously moonlighting as an ACLU lawyer. Once swallowed by the D.C. political culture, Contestant No. 1 had no chance of escaping the abyss of greed, unless he was vomited from the underbelly of Greed’s stomach – which coincidentally brings Contestant No. 1 here today.

credit_card_logo_visa_mastercard

Contestant No. 2: Discovered burning a hole in a pocketbook near you, our second contestant takes pride in his elasticity skills and ability to help Americans slide headfirst into Bankruptcy.

babyultrasound

Contestant No. 3: Although unborn, our final contestant has a great deal at stake here today, since the ultimate burden of this week’s Mega-Jackpot will fall on his or her shoulders. Due to communication issues, Contestant No. 3’s responses have been recorded by an ultrasound machine, which translates the sonic airwaves into English.

Without further adieu, let’s begin our first round of The Stimulus-Plan Dating Game:

We the Taxpayers: Contestant No. 1, if you were an economic stimulus plan, describe to me what our first date would look like.

Contestant No. 1: First, I would pick you up in our company’s private jet, hybrid of course, and fly you to an undisclosed location in the Cayman Islands, where I would wine and dine you with the best that American money can buy. After dinner, we would enjoy side-by-side Swedish Massages, during which you would tell me about all the dream legislation you would like to see Congress enact – with your name on it, of course. Exhausted from looking so deeply into your eyes and pretending to care, we would head back to our own rental island for a nightcap and romantic evening as I try to lobby you into bed.

We the Taxpayers: Wow, Contestant No. 1, you really know how to treat a Taxpayer. So I take it we’ll be going Dutch? (laughs at own joke as audience joins in, laughing at own expense) The same question goes to you Contestant No. 2.

Contestant No. 2: Let’s just say if you choose me, the sky’s the limit with your credit line. And no more annoying late fees, if you know what I mean (winks at audience, which takes cue and laughs). As if you had rubbed a bottle and wished for me to come out and sweep you off your feet, I will slide into your life and pick you up for a magic credit card ride. Unlike Contestant No. 1, I will let you decide where our magic credit card takes us. With me, you can charge your dreams and watch all your worries slip into the next Congressional Bailout.

We the Taxpayers: Sounds great, but unfortunately I am afraid of heights — (pauses for comedic effect) — high Annual Percentage Rates that is (laughs at own joke as audience joins in). Contestant No. 3, since you haven’t been born yet and the thought of talking to an incubator over dinner and conversation sounds a little embarrassing, I will ask you a different question. If my eyes were matching crystal balls and you looked into them, what type of future do you see for us in, say 40 years?

Contestant No. 3: (through translator) I see China. Everyone on earth speaks freakin’ Chinese, including you and me and this ultrasound Speak-Easy you sick bastards have jammed down my throat. I hope I’m never born, and if I am, I swear to God I will be a Libertarian.

We the Taxpayers: Wow, so young, yet so cynical Contestant No. 3. I think somebody needs an infusion of Hope (laughs at attempt to make joke).

Thus ends the first round of The Stimulus Plan Dating Game. Tune in for the next round to see who indeed has the biggest package? (laugh track here)