On the Trell With Sarah Palin

•  •  •  SCATOLOGY WEEK  •  •  •

Scatology Week: palin turkey A workman draining blood out of turkeys looks on in disbelief as an unidentified man tumbles down the turkey wafer conveyor belt while Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin babbles about how brutal the “time consumption” was for her on the campaign “trell.”
WTF does she think it would be like if she had been elected?

WASILLA — The sound and smell of bloody turkeys hung heavy in the air as a hyper-caffeinated Sarah Palin bulldozed through another interview today, this one with local Alaskan television.  Remarkably, the governor was entirely oblivious of the goings-on behind her.  The ex-vice-presidential candidate, who is no stranger to turkeys, spoke in stream-of-consciousness breathlessness, while a workman methodically cut turkey throats and drained their blood:

( Accurate transcript phonetically spelled )

“…I have the same values and convictions, en positions, en policies, um jist a greyter appreciation I think for uh what other candidates go through, ya know it’s it’s pritty brutal the, the uh, time consumption therrre and thee uh, uh innnergy that hasta be spent in order to git out’n about with the message on a national level greyt appreciation for other cannadetts who’ve gone through this but also jist a greyyt appreciation for this greyt country there’s soo many good Americans who are jist, desiring of, of their govermint ta kinda git outa the way an allow them ta grow an prahgress an allow our biznisses to grow an prahgress so greyt appreciation for those who share thatt value, meh and it was a blast everyday was jist a blast out there on the trell.”

(At this juncture a strange man in some distress tumbled down the processing conveyor full of turkey wafers, behind the governor;  he was later identified as a Detective Thorn of the NYPD, and he was insistent that the green wafers were not made of turkey, but were in fact “…made of people.”  The governor’s interview continued unabated.)

Any other future plans for office?

Uhm yaa know, plans jist include ah  ah  eh gittin’ through uh  eh  the budget process were goin’ through right now buildin’ the state’s budget based on ah the price of oil that has plummeted so greyytly an rainin’ in tha growth of govvermint, and uh  uh plans like that that havta do with um helping ta govvern this state and building this team that is continually being built ta provide good service to Alaskans, so in my role as governor thats thats what my plans are all around.”

So why was today so important for you, personally?

Ohhhh well this was this was neat! It I wuz happy ta git to be invited ta particapate in the this an an uh, ya know for one ya needa little bita levity in this job espeshly with the uh so much that has gone on last coupla months that has been so um political obviously that it’s nice ta git out an an do somthin’ ta promote a local business an an  ta jest participate in sumthin’ that isn’t so uh heavy handed politics that uh invites criticismCertainly we’ll probly invite criticism fur even doin’ this too but at least this was fun.

Well. Fun for you, Governor.  Not so much for the turkeys;  or Detective Thorn; who also turned up dead shortly after his trip down the conveyor belt. By insisting it would be fine to allow yourself to be interviewed with a turkey executioner, you have once again single-handedly demonstrated your uncanny penchant for shittin’ in your own mess kit.  Scatologists everywhere salute you.

•  •  •  SCATOLOGY WEEK  •  •  •
This concludes our half-assed coverage of Scatology Week;  we hope our nation’s current scatological politics will not become a permanent part of our heritage as a free and gaseous country, but will instead become the rarely necessary punctuation of a history ripe with the fragrance of defiance in the face of so much effluvia from our shitbag political leaders and their shitbag fans followers.  May they decompose in peace.

7 Things You’re Actually Dying to Know

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Monkey Boys Dying

You only think you’re free, cave monkeys.

Thing #1.  I don’t belong here— I’m innocent.

I’m only sort of kidding. Our planet Urantia is, in a peculiar sense, a gigantic open air prison/playpen for self-conscious monkey men.  Granted, it’s a spectacularly beautiful and complex prison, and it would seem, a prison very poorly run for the most part, and by the most deplorably unqualified inmates;  but there’s way more to it than that.  Like, we’re all gonna die.  We started dying the day we were born, in fact, because we’re “temporal.”  So generally, the only practical way off the planet is with a toe-tag.
There are no traditional bipedal guards, just a couple of very inventive things like gravity and an atmosphere that keeps us all mostly on the surface, involuntarily breathing away, taking care of business, or alternatively, fucking things up;  that freewill thing, you know.

 Still, it’s a shame so few inmates realize they’re doing time here, or why, and a bigger disappointment that even fewer actively seek the answer to that particular question, not to mention a shitload of other essential truths.  They mostly just wander around the prison, occasionally shivving others, occasionally getting shivved themselves, accidentally, or on purpose.  And when they’ve done their time, most of them will wake up on the next world all slack-jawed, where they’ll spend upwards of a 1,000 earth years or so learning all the shit they should’ve learned right here.
So— here’s my motto:  Live to Learn, Learn to Live.

 

Thing #2. I don’t eat Cheetos anymore.
Dying • Cha cha cheetos

Cheetos are not your friend.

But when I did eat them, it was always more than just the power of cheese, or the exquisite crunchiness; and now, jalapeño cheddar flavoring.  Cheetos were always my road trip crunchy snack of choice, despite yellow-sticky-fingers.
So it’s no surprise that a dick like Joe Scarborough thinks he’s ridiculing bloggers who eat Cheetos in their underoos while we write;  but that’s not why I quit eating them. (It’s the carbs.)  But. The part about us wiping the cheesy goodness on our bare skin is Joe’s sick peccadillo, you can be sure;  only he’s doing it while watching internet teletubbie porn:

Dying Phosphenes

This is not even remotely like the phosphenes I’m talking about.

Thing #3. My phosphenes have gotten nasty lately.

Not talking optical migraine here; but those little white critters that pop into your vision and swim a few strokes, then disappear, or sometimes they trigger an optical migraine. Maybe I should call them blog-fiends;  they mostly always happen when I’m staring at my visual editor.  Remember to take your taurine.

 

 

seratonin Molecule • Dying

Serotonin Molecule

Thing #4. I make my own serotonin.

Yeh, yeh, we all do;  but I make mine in the bathtub— twenty or thirty gallons at a time— two or three times a year, depending on the severity of the winter;  bulk chemicals, the whole nine yards.  It keeps pretty fresh in an air-tight container in a dark cool place;  I use recycled wine bottles.  Drink chilled.

 

Thing #5. I don’t wear a hat.

But I am into guided self-observation, (see the clip) and have been whittling down the distractions that delay evolving my soul.  If you haven’t learned how to self-observe yet, find yourself a copy of Letters of the Scattered Brotherhood, read it, then do it.  Or better yet, The Urantia Book.  You’ll see why.  Just be prepared to give up your hats.

Thing #6.  I. love. water.
Living Water

Living Water

In Robert Heinlein‘s Stranger In A Strange Land, Michael Valentine Smith introduces earthlings to the concept of “water brothers.”  When I read the book in 1971, it seemed like a cool way to define a relationship with prospective young females, since sex was what water bros most often shared besides the water.

But after sharing a lot of water, eventually I realized the sheer beauty of water spoke volumes about its Creator;  from the contemplation of eternity inspired by the endless crashing of waves, to the infinite variety of form created on it’s surface, to its divine power to keep all living things alive.

So.
Treasure Water.

Share Water.

 

 

And Thing #7. I’m enlightened, and you can be too!
Thing #8.  No, Really.

Relatively speaking, of course.  It simply means you know what you are, where you are, why you are here, and where you are going.  And while all of these things are freely available to anyone milling about the prison, very few of you inmates will actually bother to discover them by reading The Urantia Book.
C’est la vie.

Anyway.  Enlightenment doesn’t turn you into Gandhi or the Dalai Lama.  It’s kind of a perfunctory awareness, when you think it through;  I mean you either know God, or you do not.  We can have a genuine personal religious experience with our Indwelling Spirit, but you actually have to pursue it.  Nobody ever learned about God against their will.

OMFG!

Yes, they’re shoving wedding cake into their pie holes.

We are still going to be imperfect flesh and blood creatures as long as we’re here, doing time;  albeit with one fabulously amazing potential aspect:  we can become eternal beings;  we can choose to live forever.
So put down the cake and get after it, you clowns!

 

The Trump Phenomenon: Thank Fox News

newtmellow1

From the film Ghostbusters: Fig Newton Gingrich in the role of Gozer The Traveler *

Here we go again. Back in August, we posted Trumpenstein, in which we laid the creation of the Trump Phenomenon squarely at the feet of Fux News:

His political persona is as much a creation of the political arm of the GOP, Fux News, as it is one of his own devising. Prior to the first, now infamous, 2016 Republican presidential debate, Trump was a regular weekly guest on Fux’s morning program, Fux and Friends, which gave him a long-running, high profile forum to build his political persona. A marriage made in heaven for an extreme narcissist and a cable network, both seeking maximum public attention and approval,

Now comes this. Here’s Charlie Pierce‘s account of an interview Fux and Friendsa did with the Newtster a couple of days ago:

DOOCY: Well they are uncomfortable with Trump, the GOP establishment. You talk to the GOP establishment, I mean, you’re part of it for the most part. What—this is their nightmare scenario. What are they trying to do?

GINGRICH: Oh, I think they live in a fantasy land right now. Donald Trump is tapping into something that’s real …

KILMEADE: Well what’s interesting is that Mitt Romney, one of his great advantages was money, and that’s why a lot of you guys couldn’t keep up. This time, the billionaire is spending the least amount of money and running away with this thing—

GINGRICH: Well, that’s because of you guys.

KILMEADE: What?

Charlie comments:

Doocy’s face at this point is already worth the price of admission. But it continues:

GINGRICH: That’s because of you guys. Donald Trump gets up in the morning, tweets to the entire planet at no cost, gets on the phone, calls you, has a great conversation for about eight minutes, which would have cost him a ton in commercial money. And meanwhile, his opponents are all out there trying to raise the money to run an ad, and nobody believes the ad.

KILMEADE: People make decisions. Mitt Romney made a decision: for three months, he wouldn’t do us at all. People decide—for a while, Jeb Bush wouldn’t hop on any television at all. Hillary Clinton didn’t do anything in the beginning. Donald Trump from day one made himself available to big and small.

It doesn’t seem to occur to Kilmeade that they at Fox & Friends are also making decisions, like the decision to prioritize feeding the ratings beast with largely uncritical Trump interviews. But then Doocy chimes in:

DOOCY: Plus, he’s invented scenarios where suddenly he’s got all this free media. That Pope thing at the end of the week—who wasn’t talking about that?

Again, there’s a sense that somehow no editorial decisions are being made at Fox, and the Trump coverage just sort of appears on-screen, unbidden. Gingrich remains unimpressed:

GINGRICH: Look. You could say Trump is the candidate Fox & Friends invented. He was on your show more than any other show—

Then, proudly:

DOOCY: Every Monday.

It’s almost like they can’t hear themselves speak. At the very least, Doocy struggles to connect the logical dots from one sentence to the next. But while Gingrich is right about Fox & Friends‘ role in Trump’s rise, the Fox News morning crew is not alone. The Age of Trump has exposed the inability of cable news in particular to cover presidential campaigns in a responsible way. When the campaign to elect the leader of the free world is made into a kind of carnivalized gladiatorial bloodsport to be exploited for its entertainment value, the best entertainer is likely to succeed.

[H/T: The Daily Beast]

You can’t make this stuff up.

 

* From Ghostbusters:

[Egon is running tests on Louis, who has been possessed by Gozer and is now the Keymaster]

Dr. Egon Spengler: Vinz, you said before you were waiting for a sign. What sign are you waiting for?

Louis: Gozer the Traveler. He will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the rectification of the Vuldrini, the traveler came as a large and moving Torg! Then, during the third reconciliation of the last of the McKetrick supplicants, they chose a new form for him: that of a giant Slor! Many Shuvs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Slor that day, I can tell you!

Gozer: The Choice is made!

Dr. Peter Venkman: Whoa! Ho! Ho! Whoa-oa!

Gozer: The Traveler has come!

Dr. Peter Venkman: Nobody choosed anything!

[turns to Egon]

Dr. Peter Venkman: Did you choose anything?

Dr. Egon Spengler: No.

Dr. Peter Venkman: [to Winston] Did YOU?

Winston Zeddemore: My mind is totally blank.

Dr. Peter Venkman: *I* didn’t choose anything…

[long pause, Peter, Egon and Winston all look at Ray]

Dr Ray Stantz: I couldn’t help it. It just popped in there.

Dr. Peter Venkman: [angrily] What? *What* “just popped in there?”

Dr Ray Stantz: I… I… I tried to think…

Dr. Egon Spengler: LOOK!

[they all look over one side of the roof]

Dr Ray Stantz: No! It CAN’T be!

Dr. Peter Venkman: What is it?

Dr Ray Stantz: It CAN’T be!

Dr. Peter Venkman: What did you DO, Ray?

Winston Zeddemore: Oh, shit!

[they all see a giant cubic white head topped with a sailor hat, Peter looks at Ray]

Dr Ray Stantz: [somberly] It’s the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

HELL DOESN’T LOOK LIKE THIS ANYMORE.

In Fact, There Is No Hell; So It Doesn’t Look Like This At All.

Hell?
That’s right— no “hell.”

Well, wait.

There are all those thousands of supposedly rational, intelligent people who still believe that the all-loving, all-merciful God they profess belief in maintains a gigantic, universal “Lake of Fire”— at enormous expense, too, despite all the overpriced “lakefront” property he’s sold— and you just know a live feed is available on the Celestial Cable base-package under “entertainment”— because burning your children eternally is so …  um, “all-loving and all-merciful…  so yeah, every person who ever lived who sinned against him in the many ways enumerated by boilerplate Christian dogma get’s to be an eternally roasting sentient hotdog!

But heeah me tooday and remember me tomorrow:  there is no  actual  place called Hell.

Mmmm, okay, I almost forgot, there is the brain-box of Rush Limbaugh‘s enormous head;  that’s certainly the closest thing to a living hell I can think of.  But look he’s gotta be realllly close to a fatal karmic coronary, so. . .  let’s say there’s no eternal actual material place called Hell.

Just for the hell of it (see, now that just slipped out) let’s go back and recall what the Jewish traditions of heaven and hell and the “doctrine of devils,” as recorded in the Hebrew scriptures, have to say.  You may not know it, but they were founded on the lingering traditions of Lucifer and Caligastia,* but also too, they were principally derived from the Zoroastrians during the times when the Jews were under the political and cultural dominance of those nasty Persians. (Oooh yes, yes— the forefathers of the evil threat du jour, the Iranians. Below the Mason-Dixon line this is pronounced “Eye-Ranniuns.”)  

So Zoroaster, a heavy dude with a thing for white flowing garments and hipster beards, lived in the eastern part of the Iranian Plateau and anybody who’s anyone knows it is the most desirable part of the plateau.  Location, people.
Yeah he totally taught the “day of judgment,” and one night after some bad hummus and feeling particularly apocalyptic, he connected this event with the idea of the end of the world.

And fun fact:  “The ‘Roaster“— as he was known to a small group of intimates— did not teach the worship of fire, he just tried to use the flame as a symbol of the pure and wise Spirit of universal and supreme dominance. Whew.   (Okay, but too true, his later followers both reverenced and worshiped said symbolic fire.)  Finally, after the conversion of a particular overwrought Iranian prince who shall remain nameless, this new religion was spread by the weapon of choice back then, the sword.  Shocking.  And Zo died in battle for what he believed was the “truth of the Lord of light.”

So where were we.  Ahh . Yeah, there is just the idea of hell, too;  that’s probably the most vivid and powerful form of no hell that there is, really;  and you might be surprised to learn that it isn’t kept alive by just the religious fundie-mentalists either.  It seems there are many weak-minded atheist trolls who, while claiming there is no hell (good so far) still insist on helping to keep the idea of hell alive by continually bringing it up whenever and wherever they can, in an effort to prove— get this— how dumb fundamentalists are. The irony— it burns all the way to the center of the earth.

Hmm. Well dammit, the center of the earth is a lot like every garden variety idiot’s idea of hell, too;  I mean if you could actually get there with a. . . Mm you know what, just forgeddaboudit.

 

* “Caligastia” was a Lanonandek Son of the secondary order.  For three hundred thousand years Caligastia had been in charge of Urantia when Satan, Lucifer’s assistant, made one of his periodic inspection calls.  In the course of this inspection Satan informed Caligastia of Lucifer’s then proposed “Declaration of Liberty,” and he agreed to betray the planet upon the announcement of the rebellion.  Loyal universe personalities look with peculiar disdain upon Prince Caligastia because of this premeditated betrayal of trust.

In all the administrative work of a local universe, no high trust is deemed more sacred than that reposed in a Planetary Prince who assumes responsibility for the welfare and guidance of the evolving mortals on a newly inhabited world.  And of all forms of evil, none are more destructive of personality status than betrayal of trust and disloyalty to one’s confiding friends. In committing this deliberate sin, Caligastia so completely distorted his personality that his mind has never since been able fully to regain its equilibrium.

 

Bye Dave.

Dave's Top Ten

SOS was a cartoon strip I wrote and illustrated late at night… during the late 80’s in Boulder, Colorado.  Good times.

 

While never really a Letterman junkie, “Late-Night” for me was usually finishing a strip while he was on, so I became a de facto regular viewer.  Oh, yeah, and Dave was brilliant.  Even so, the strip above was my only homage to the many hours spent enjoying Dave’s top ten things, that usually made someone squirm.

People say New Yorkers can’t get along. Not true. I saw two New Yorkers, complete strangers, sharing a cab.
One guy took the tires and the radio;  the other guy took the engine.

—D. Letterman

 

 

Little Danny Quayle

Little Danny Quayle

BTW, Reason Number 6 is a reference to George Herbert Walker Bush‘s choice of J. Danforth Quayle for VP, who never managed to shake the nation’s first impression of him as a moron  intellectual lightweight.  Of course his continuing buffoonery didn’t help either:

“The Holocaust was an obscene period in our nation’s history. … No, not our nation’s, but in World War II.  I mean, we all lived in this century.  I didn’t live in this century, but in this century’s history.”

And:  “I have made good judgments in the past. I have made good judgments in the future.”

And this gem, when he addressed the United Negro College Fund, whose slogan was “A mind is a terrible thing to waste,”… and Danny said, “You take the United Negro College Fund model that what a waste it is to lose one’s mind or not to have a mind, is being very wasteful. How true that is.”

 

Tim Tait?

As for Reason #4, you may remember the churlish Jean Kirkpatrick, but you’re saying “Who the eff is Tim Tait“?  I wish I could remember, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t this guy:

I’m just trying to make a smudge on the collective unconscious.
—D. Letterman

So do yourself a favor and enjoy:

11 times David Letterman humiliated the right.