Intellectual Vandalism

Yeah, that’s right. Let’s boot these douchecanoes out. In the private sector people get fired all the time. Why is it that the political celebrities are immune to such reality? Screw them, I say. Boot them out now… all of them.

“Recall? ¡Que horror!” people say. Okay, you pansies… get back to the comfort of your blankie and your mother’s breasts and let some adults run the joint. These people are literally stealing your money, lying straight to your face and getting away with it.  We should RECALL all of them.

According to celebritynetworth.com, this asshat is worth in excess of $35 million.

I know it’s not possible. I know it’s not going to happen… but we need this voice in the wilderness. These jerks get filthy rich as political celebrities. Nary an eyebrow is raised, except by other filthy rich shysters like this partisan, hypocritical ignoramus:

Hey! I am for the little guy. That’s why I have a huge stock portfolio and this $2000 suit! According to celebritynetworth.com I’m also worth in excess of $50 million.

The elites promote the idea that public service must be lucrative and provide some sort of dignified status to make it attractive to the best and the brightest. Again, hogwash. The spoils only seem to attract the best and greediest liars.

Thomas Jefferson famously wrote:

The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.

Our tree of liberty is no longer being refreshed by anything. Our “leaders” have a stranglehold on our milk and honey and we continue to vote for them. We are idiots.

Put your money where your mouths are, “patriots”… get some recalls going.

I call for the immediate recall of every single member of Congress. This shouldn’t be some comfortable country club for these “public servants.” Boot them the hell out.

Hey! It’s time for another installment of “ER MAH GERD, The Daily Show and other MSM voices are finally going to reveal the truth and the Obama Administration is GOING DOWN!”

Er, not.

Jon Stewart went the hell off on the Obama Administration over the IRS unfairly targeting Tea Party and other groups, and the right wing is now all giddy that something has changed. Wrong. Nothing has changed. It won’t change.  Our political class and the media have us right where they want us, which is divided and hostile… more concerned with power and winning elections than with principle.

Well played, salesmen… well played.

Memo: they don’t care. They won’t care. Ever. This is about political power and nothing more. A few transgressions can be laughed at from time to time so a few media personalities can present a shred of fairness, but that’s all it is.

“Yeah, I don’t like totally agree with the IRS thing, but can you only imagine what types of abuses would be happening under a Republican president? It would like be totally worse, man.”

Supporters of Obama will acknowledge that there were abuses but inside their heads they are thinking “Eh, abuse happens. I’m just glad it is happening to the other guy.”

Truth.

For this Sunday I have decided to sit down and watch an entire NASCAR race.

My experiment starts well. I pour an IPA and grab a bag of potato chips. Crap, they are of the vinegar and sea salt variety. I really don’t like vinegar-flavored chips, but my wife does. Oh well, I’m going to eat ‘em anyway because, well, America, that’s why. This is the STP 400 damn it, and I’m serious about getting in some quality comfort time during this, not to mention learning a thing or two about NASCAR. What the hell, right?

I’m amazed by the coverage this race is getting. I’ve never even heard of this thing. Where the hell is it? I don’t even know. It seems there are 6 or 8 different people on the air from time to time: a couple of guys in the main booth, some guys on the infield, and a few other people, including some chick named Christa, who are who knows where. I wonder what Christa looks like. If they showed her, I missed her. More hot chicks would be helpful, especially if you want to keep newbies interested. Sex sells and I haven’t seen anything thing sexy yet, other than cars that really haul ass, which is kinda sexy.

The graphics are as ubiquitous as the ads. They have these quote bubbles that appear above cars showing their speed in real time and their place in the race. A running ticker at the top shows who is placed where on the track. This graphic also shows how many laps have been completed. Also visible is the occasional pit road graphic that appears on the right side of the screen with each car’s number. Any car in pit road’s number is illuminated and the graphics correctly represent the color and font of each car’s number.

The Go-Daddy In-Car Camera is in Danica Patrick’s car, replete with audio between Danica and her crew, at least for a second. I’m not going to lie: I’m imagining Danica putting on/taking off her racing suit. Shut up… you are too.

Multiple windows, massive graphics, huge broadcasting crew… GONZO COVERAGE, BABY! I want to grab a 24 ounce can of Busch and shotgun it! Don’t think I won’t. I’m starting to feel like a damn snob sipping my West Coast IPA, though. This is fun and Fox is all the hell over this thing like green on a Granny Smith.

Chassis adjustments, track temperatures, tire pressure, fuel issues, tire stops, pit row, track bar adjustments, treacherous pit road entries, an ideal oil temperature of 280 degrees, pre-race inspection issues, wedge adjustments, lots of adjustments!  What the hell is going on here? This is over the damn top. Lots to be concerned about and I don’t get half of it. No matter, cars going in circles, man!

Kyle Busch’s M&M car wrecks at one point. I’m not glad he wrecked, but if one car did have to get out of the race, that’s my pick because it’s obnoxious. I post on facebook: “Kyle Busch…. OUT!” with glee. I’m in this, man. I get few replies. My friends are largely city snobs who can’t appreciate NASCAR. I’m not even sure I appreciate it yet, but they sure seem to put on a hell of a production. These guys could produce the hell out of a Guns & Roses tour.

The Original Recipe Boneless KFC commercial plays yet again, the one where the guy says in a panic, “I ate the bones, I ate the bones!” It’s sorta clever, I guess, but wouldn’t you know you ate the bones? Then again, if it were so delicious, you may have been so high off the flavor you may not notice you ate the bones. I think that’s what KFC is going for, but I’m not sure. I do know that KFC has chicken strips, right? Er, are these different somehow? I need to get back on KFC’s facebook page and make more snarky comments about having to run to the toilet after eating their stuff. I make those comments often on fast food pages. Call it a guilty pleasure.

Back to the race: 98 laps to go.

An analysis of a good pit stop and, yep, a graphic showing “Green Flag Pit Times.” Some guy named Aric Almirola had the best time, besting Ryan Newman by 2.1 seconds. I’ll admit it: when I read that I wondered “Is that guy a Viking?” Turns out he’s Cuban-American. I was close.

Track bar adjustments are mentioned again. I can hardly stand it. What is the track bar? What is its damn purpose? I decide I’m not going to look it up, that I want to try to figure it out as the race goes along. Maybe I can figure it out from the commentary or perhaps they will just explain it in case newbies are watching. A track bar tutorial would be wicked awesome about now, preferably with a hot chick explaining what it is.

Memo to NASCAR/FOX: more hot chicks, more explanation of the jargon.

90 laps to go, caution flag out. The Toyota pace car moves onto pit road and the green flag comes out! C’mon! Someone got “pushed up out of the groove” whatever that means… sorta reminiscent of “harshing one’s mellow” but it’s damn exciting nonetheless. The guy in the Zest Soap car just lost 2^nd place! You know, Aqua is never a good color for anything more than an accent. I wonder if the guy driving it feels the same way I do.

Uh oh! A small crash! Seventh caution flag. Several cars have spun out, but nobody hurt, at least I don’t think so. I do know that these cars are going really fast but you can’t really tell on TV… what look to be innocent collisions can be serious. Anyone who saw the Dale Earnhardt crash knows what I’m talking about. I remember seeing that and thinking “No big deal.” Boy was I wrong.

They show some tape of Danica Patrick avoiding the crash.  I wonder how sweaty she is.

The 10 Calorie Dr. Pepper commercial airs for the third or fourth time. Good commercial. Evokes old commercials from yesteryear. When  the guy says “bold flavor” at the end, I laugh each time. It’s not enough to make me try 10 Calorie Dr. Pepper, but I am thankful they have entertained me for a brief moment. But I wonder… how can they make it taste fundamentally different than Diet Dr. Pepper with the addition of just ten calories? I find it hard to believe that ten calories can make a difference. Crap, maybe the Dr. Pepper team has reeled me in. Those magnificent bastards!

One guy finds Sam Hornish Jr. and asks him about the crash he was just involved in. He apparently bit his lip and hit his knee. Pretty cool to talk to him just as he’s finished and the race speeds on. I wish the NHL would have a guy in the penalty boxes asking players how they felt about the penalties they just took or the fights they just participated in. “What did he say to you? Did he land any punches? Are you going after him again? What did you say about his mother?” That would be must-see TV.

WOAH! Some guy trying to “capitalize on the apron!”… to no avail.  The #38 car almost clips Danica! UR MUH GEERD! Apparently Danica needs to get into pit road ASAP or she may be in trouble. Everything is amped up… voices are pitched. Things are too freakin’ tense.

Viagra commerical. A guy trying to start a fire on a desolate beach. “Ask your doctor if your heart is healthy enough for sex.” If I’ve learned anything from American culture the last several decades, it’s that if your heart isn’t healthy enough for sex you may as well just die, man! If you aren’t getting off, man, you ain’t livin, man! The fire starts. Thank you, Viagra.

Rookie Ricky Stenhouse leading with 62 laps to go. This is getting good. “Fire Down Below” by Bob Seger now stuck in my head.

The Lowe’s In-Car Camera shows some car hauling ass. That’s a nice touch. “Hey, look! A car hauling ass!” America!

Budweiser commercial featuring the Clydsedales and “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac. Great song. Great horses. Horrible beer. Yes, I’m a beer snob and yes, Budweiser is urine. Yeah, I’m from St. Louis, and I said it. I’ll say it again: It’s piss.

The bright sun is now “bathing the track.” What are the implications of this? Tire pressure adjustments? Track bar considerations? I want to know.

A piece of metal debris loosened from some earlier contact has finally flown off the #2 car and is now on the track. We are now under another caution flag. Dale Earnhardt Jr. and Jeff Gordon are in pit road. A pickup truck is working its way on the apron around to turn four, I believe to retrieve the piece of metal debris. Will the truck pull out there or will a guy just run out there? They never show it. Horrible production there because I was invested. I was looking forward to the broadcasters calling that: “And the track crew has moved into position to remove the debris. You see two guys lifting the piece of metal that came off the #2 car here on turn 4. It looks like they will lay it in the bed of the pickup diagonally as it is too long to fit into the bed of the truck any other way.”

During this lull I’m wondering what kind of grub is available at a NASCAR event. Is it like ballpark food? Is it better? Do they have any craft beers or is it all macro swill like Budweiser and Miller Lite? Can I get a freakin’ pepper belly there, with jalapenos and onions and whatever else I like?

Graphic of the fastest lap of the day, sponsored by Sprint. Matt Kenseth has it as 184.59 MPH. Sounds pretty damn fast to me.

Gordon in 22^nd place. Some people hate him, right? Earnhardt Jr. in 20^th. Patrick in 26^th. There are five pictures on the screen right now. Just five? How about fifteen? Go big or go home. A slow mo photo-finish view of the approach to pit road appears on the screen. A race within a race! This is boggling my freakin’ mind, man.  The 20 car beat the 56 car by well over a length. I guess that’s good.

Commercials come on. I make like my grandfather and mute the sound.

And we’re back! 43 laps to go. The camera right next to the track is bitchin’. Stuff shakes as the cars speed by. The sound is pretty cool, like the sound airplane toilets make only ballsier, much ballsier, like polar bear balls.

“Darrell, this is pretty wild right here!” the lead commentator says. What’s going on?!

“Oh it is; I’ve been watching it.” Darrell repsonds. Is that Darrell Waltrip? I’m pretty sure it is. The guy seems to know what he’s talking about.

“Almost they touch there!” the commentator adds. The almost-touching of cars is a big part of the action… it’s almost like foreplay… one touch and BAM! disaster may strike. It’s exciting. I’m a little turned on, and I haven’t even taken any Viagra.

“KFC” is suddenly emblazoned several times across the top graphic.  Now I’m definitely turned on. Screw Viagra. Want better sex? Get a few buckets of KFC and place them around the house. Let that greasy aroma waft throughout the house. Chow down on some of it. Pour a whole tub of gravy in the bucket and dive the hell in.

The KFC logos slide to the left and the ticker continues to roll again. “KFC” remains on the left for a few more seconds. I am reminded how I once told my kids that it used to be “Kentucky Fried Chicken” but now it’s “KFC.” They now ask, whenever “KFC” is mentioned, “Dad, why did it used to be called ‘Kentucky Friend Chicken’?” I usually answer, “I don’t know… health hysteria… racism or something.” I am then barraged with “What is health hysteria?” and “What is racism?” I definitely need to talk less.

Kasey Kahne in the 5 car is “nibbling away” at Matt Kenseth in the 20 car, who is in the lead with 31 to go. This is a nail-biter! I’m guessing his first name is “Kasey” and not “Casey” because the trend toward alliteration with kids’ names seems to be real common the last few decades. Can you imagine if he were “Casey Kahne”?  I can’t. I won’t.

I crack open another IPA and crunch on a few Goldfish crackers. This day is kicking ass so far: beer, fast cars, Goldfish crackers… AMERICA!

With 20 laps to go, they announce the “Sprint 20 To Go!”  Sprint is all over this thing. Maybe they could sell each lap.  I can just imagine “And now, Snap-On Tools Lap 137 brought to you by Verizon Wireless!”

One guy has Kobalt Tools on his dash. In fact, all the dash cams show advertisements on each dash. In my experience Kobalt tools aren’t very good. Someone please correct me if I’m wrong. Or don’t. I don’t care.

Just spotted a huge Sunoco sign on the infield. I wonder if the pit crews fuel up there, if there’s an actual Sunoco station in there, and if so, do they have snacks also? Now I’m craving some Zingers. I wonder if those rotating hot dog cylinder things would feel good on your back, like as a massager. I’d think the warmth and movement would be quite relaxing. Maybe put some tea tree extract on there for a refreshing exfoliation.

So Kahne is chasing Kenseth. Accoring to Darrell, Kenseth is riding a high line in which he gains speed, whereas if Kahne followed that high line he would lose speed. I don’t get it. Maybe it has something to do with the track bar, KFC, or Viagra. Probably, but I can’t keep anything straight at this point, nor do I care to. This race has sorta reeled me in and I am salivating in anticipation of the finish. 9 laps to go. I’m chugging this beer. This is getting really good.

Will Kahne make a move? Danica Patrick, who is getting lapped again, gets in the way, forcing Kahne onto the apron! Kahne passes Danica, who fades back with a whimper. C’mon! Haul ass, dude!!! 4 laps to go!

Announcers talking as if Kenseth has it in the bag as long as he just does what he’s doing. Kahne is closer!  Kahne is closing in! He may overtake Kenseth! And…. Kenseth wins it from the pole!

Kenseth drives out to the finish line and they hand him the checkered flag. He proceeds to burn ‘em off a little on the track while hoding the flag out the window, just like we used to do in the high school parking lot. I’m thinking, “Damn, that smoke must be toxic as hell. No wonder the global warming people aren’t NASCAR fans.” They show Kenseth’s wife, who is cheering. She looks pretty hot. America!

They interview Kenseth. He thanks around 29 sponsors. They interview Kahne. It IS “Kasey”! I knew it. Getting that correct was worth the few hours I invested. They show the unofficial results board. I see Toyota, Chevy, and Ford. Toyota won. America!

Krista Voda, not “Christa”, interviews Martin Truex Jr. She’s pretty hot. Truex gives the typical interview about, well, I have no idea; I was checking out Krista.

I’m nauseated from too many Goldfish crackers, and I still don’t know what the track bar is.

I enjoyed my NASCAR afternoon though.

America!

It doesn’t get much more intellectually vapid than this, but you can just see people nodding, “Oh yeah, anti-Semitism! Of course!” while listening to this drivel.  Maybe someone can craft a Master’s thesis out of this latest incarnation of the Dreyfus Affair. Certain academics would most definitely eat that up… if they aren’t too busy attending an anti-Israel rally, of course.

Got that? You hate Jews. It’s so obvious.

O beautiful for central bank

For mantis piles of cash

For purple fingers pressing keys

Creating debt out the ass!

America! America!

God shed the gold standard near ‘70

And crown thy prez with dictatorhood

From sea to shining sea!

From the New York Times:

The gun-control law, approved in January, banned the sale of magazines that hold more than seven rounds of ammunition. But, Mr. Cuomo said Wednesday, seven-round magazines are not widely manufactured. And, although the new gun law provided an exemption for the use of 10-round magazines at firing ranges and competitions, it did not provide a legal way for gun owners to purchase such magazines.

As a result, he said, he and legislative leaders were negotiating language that would continue to allow the sale of magazines holding up to 10 rounds, but still forbid New Yorkers from loading more than 7 rounds into those magazines.

Wonderful! Now a psycho like the Newtown shooting won’t load up his magazines with 10 rounds, but only 7.

This man is apparently a dunce.

Forget that Cuomo was told about this problem all along. Now he is crafting an equally absurd solution to fix his original absurd “solution” for preventing mass murder, which is to limit law-abiding citizens’ Second Amendment rights.

These are your leaders.

Am I the only one thinking that this is just where we happen to live and not America?

From Fox6now.com in Milwaukee: a Marine stops the brutal beating of a woman in West Allis, WI.

The hero, Charlie Blackmore stated:

We do good things. Not all of us are bad or crazy gun nuts. There are good people.

Indeed there are, sir… the vast majority of them. The others are called “criminals”, and they’ll get firearms no matter what laws are sitting in some database somewhere.

Well done, Marine. Concealed carriers like you provide an extra level of protection for society at large. Your community is safer for your efforts.