So I’ve been suffering through the Paul-less Thug “Forum” of the Thug Network, Faux Noise, so heinous their open and obvious advocacy of 9iu11ani that even Thugs shun them as biased Beltway bootlickers.

And I’m about to take it apart bit by bit but I suddenly flash on the fact that the fantasy fest is finally exposed anyway, that last night’s juxtaposition of their back to back bizarro and reality world visions seal the deal.

This in studio puff piece of makeuped and lighted comedy cuts to the chase that is the manicured mannequin idiot mouthpieces of the plutocrat class and their Villager serfs.  I hope they broadcast it forever- corrupt to the core corporatist cronies of our totalitarian takeover and the surveillance society.

TV watch you.

The reasons they need Do-Overs is they are ashamed and embarrassed by the very nature of the shameless sycophants, racists and greedos that ditto their dubious declarations.  A bunch of Bible brandishing brainless twits they seek nothing so much as to openly display their basest biased prejudices to cheers of forced approval.

Clap.  Clap.  Clap.  Clap.  All hail the Hypnotoad.

I hope the hypocrisy of anyone who takes this travesty of what used to be a political party and is now nothing more than a cadre of criminals seriously self identifies as Villagers so we can shun them.

Even Hollywood can’t put lipstick on this pig.

I choose that as my headline advisedly because last I heard Booman thought I was an ass clown and I am.  I’m a member of his site and I could have and could be contributing much more.

I”ve also stolen many good ideas from him about how to run a site and build community.

Still my suck up skills are insufficient to the depth of my depravity and I expect no thanks from this-

This totally encapsulates my argument on tactics of us against the Villagers.

Bravo Boo.

Do you feel exposed?

You should.

I’m not just talking about the normal routine recording of your every gesture and utterance outside carefully constructed and deliberate walls of polite procedure rooted in a more gentile and tolerant time, one where gentlemen didn’t read each other’s mail except when they could.

I mean here out on the cold windy street corner of blogdom, doing your soon to be extinct polar bear club defiance of diminishing icecaps, lime stuffed Corona in hand.

Brisk.

One hardly knows where honesty ends and self interest begins unless they are one and the same because of the bigger picture.

Grab your gaze out of the gutter and look up to the stardust from whence you came and believe in yourself again.

You can change things.  You know it’s true.  Stop smoking.  Get fit.  Care more for those around you and let them know it.

Blog more.  Sing louder.  We are not proud, or tired.  And we’ll show you the next time it comes around on the guitar.

With feeling.

Of course the four part harmony and circles and arrows on the back of each one explaining how they are to be used in evidence against me is up to you.

Me?  I’m just happy to be sitting here on the Group W bench disturbing the peace with the father rapers and mother stabbers.

There has been a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth and rending of garments over the coming ascension of Bill Kristol to the august pages of The New York Times.  I’m afraid to say that I mostly agree with Andy Rosenthal (as reported by Editor and Publisher, h/t Atrios), I don’t understand what the fuss is all about.  After all, “We have views on our op-ed page that are as hawkish or more so than Bill”.

If you expect The New York Times  to be a progressive voice championing the values of the “community” they supposedly serve, the citizens of the Metropolitan New York area, they do; but that “community” may not have exactly the demographics you think.  The Gray Lady stands for the truth of the informed insider, the justice of the powerful and connected, and the Wall Street Way.

They are mired in the media madness that traps most of the dead tree dying dinosaurs.  Confronted with their own inevitable extinction as organs of influence they are in denial of the retreat of the ice age, doomed to suffocate under the tangled fur of the web of deceit and lies they have peddled over the last 20 years.

There was a time I’d read 4 or more newspapers a day, The Courant, The Times, The News, and The Stars Hollow Shopper, and consider myself informed.  More than that I’d read the supermarket glossies- Time, Newsweek, and U.S News and World Report.  WCBS Newsradio 88 with traffic and weather together at 8, 18, 28, 38, 48, and 58 minutes past the hour (WINS was first in the format, but not clear channel).

The only ones who survive are WCBS (did I mention traffic and weather together?) and The Stars Hollow Shopper (♥ me some coupons).

The disconnect in the plain reality that my own two eyes show me every single day and the dusty dirty gray tissues stained with blood and other less identifiable and honorable fluids that pile up in our landfills as pristine and unread as the day it was delivered on your doorstep, useful as a stop or for wrapping fish or lining litter boxes and bird cages; has led me to more productive pursuits.

Earlier (but not in the new media of record thank goodness) I mourned the passing of these shambling shadows of former greatness, these future fossils of folly and hubris; now I ignore them as irrelevant when I don’t hunt them for sport.

Boxing Day.

On the day after Christmas…

• In feudal times the lord of the manor would give boxes of practical goods such as cloth, grains, and tools to the serfs who lived on his land.
• Many years ago on the day after Christmas servants would carry boxes to their employers when they arrived for their day’s work. Their employers would then put coins in the boxes as special end-of-year gifts.
• In churches, it was traditional to open the church’s donation box on Christmas Day and distribute it to the poorer or lower class citizens on the next day.

Take your pick.

In the world of retail Boxing Day is the day everyone brings back all the crap they got for gifts that they didn’t want or is the wrong size or the wrong color or that they shoplifted and now want full retail for instead of the 10% that the local fence will give them.

Now fortunately for me I never had to work the counter during this period of long lines and testy, hung over sales people and managers dealing with irate customers who think that making their sob story more pitiful than the last one will get them any treatment more special than what everyone gets.

1. Is it all there?
2. Is it undamaged?
3. Did you buy it here?

Bingo, have some store credit.  Go nuts.  Have a nice day.

What makes it especially crappy for the clerks is that you don’t normally get a lot of practice with the return procedures because your manager will handle it since it’s easier than training you.  Now you have 20 in a row and the first 7 or 8 are slow until you get the hang of things.

As a customer I have to warn you, this is not a swap meet.  If they didn’t have a blue size 6 on Christmas Eve, they don’t have it now either EVEN IF THE CUSTOMER RIGHT AHEAD OF YOU IN LINE JUST RETURNED A SIZE 6 IN BLUE!

It has to go back to the warehouse for processing and re-packaging.  Really.

So if you braved the surly stares today you have my admiration for your tenacity.  If you waited for the rush to pass my respect for your brilliance.

But don’t wait too long.  It all has to be out of the store before February inventory so it doesn’t have to be counted.

Well I should probably be writing some deep and profound analysis of the political situation here in New Hampshire now that I’ve had 24 hours to marinate in the WMUR media blitz and have my heirloom copy of the Concord Monitor’s anti-endorsement of Romney, but instead I’d like to share with you the good news that my niece and nephew are not as hopelessly warped politically by growing up in this particular era as many of my activist brother’s contemporaries were.

It was a source of extreme frustration to me to see so many of that generation buy into the Reagan myth.  As far as I was concerned Reagan was a traitor who openly defied Congress and sold arms to our enemies in order to finance an illegal war.  Even HW correctly called his economic policies voodoo.  Communicator?  Announcer of Noonan crafted platitudes.

It chaps my ass even today to hear his worshipers talk about that dark period of misrule as some kind of golden age.

When I look around at the Villagers, media, government, consultant and lobbyist, I wonder what kind of emotional emptiness leads them to let this brain damaged drooling zombie act as a substitute father for their Electra complex lust to shut off their minds and let daddy take care of it.

Those who benefit from the crime I can understand.  Greed is good.  But if all you want to do is abandon responsibility for your own desire to be beaten and abused I recommend lobotomy, because it causes less harm to those around you.

My niece and nephew are not fooled by this sad excuse thank goodness.  My nephew shared the story of how his employer threw an Army recruiter out on his ass and two Marines who happened to see it called him over and said- “Kid, whatever you do, don’t join.”

His mom and I greeted this anecdote with some relief, since we had our fears and he is of an age, but listening to him and his sister critique the drone of the dodos seeking to perpetuate the current horror actually gave me some hope for the future.