Silence Is A Golden Shower
Category: News and Politics

If you haven't noticed, I haven't been keeping up this blog with the fiber-like regularity with whish I used to.  This is because I need to focus my efforts on getting on the 2008 ballot.  But, to keep the masses somewhat appeased, I will here republish the paper I wrote to start it all. 

But before I do that, let me tell you about a novel I think you should read.  It is being published on Myspace, and it is titled Posthumously Yours (http://www.myspace.com/posthumouslyyours).  Check it out if you get the chance.

Or, if food is your interest, check out The Imperfect Palate at (http://www.myspace.com/imperfectpalate).   

So, without further ado, here is the paper that started it all:

Silence Is A Golden Shower

"One cannot help feeling that nearly half the misery of the world would disappear if we, fretting mortals, knew the virtue of silence…"

                                                                                -Mahatma Ghandi

I modestly propose that the first amendment be immediately repealed.  Done away with and destroyed to the extent that its own mommy would not recognize it.  From this senator's perspective, the first amendment has done nothing but wreak havoc upon this great nation of ours.  Intelligent people will find a way to get their point of view noticed; the first amendment only gives miscreants the privilege of bellyaching.  And I, for one, have heard enough.  

It just seems to me that the country would be much more serene if no one had the right to talk.  Who can honestly argue with that?  How many headaches would not be had?  How many times will someone not ask to speak to your manager? (Did all the retail employees just turn to my side?)  How much nicer would your morning commute be if no disc jockeys force fed you their opinions while you were trapped in your automobile?  How many fewer conversations would you have about the changing weather and the unpredictability of weather forecasts?  To make no mention at all of sports talk, and explaining that you don't like sports, and then explaining that this does not make you gay.  Where is it written that every senator has to watch Nascar?  I might, might watch football if John Madden could keep his trap shut and quit scribbling all over my TV screen. 

Entire classes could be eliminated from school curriculums (speech class, French class, sex ed), the extra money being then used for better teachers and smaller classrooms sizes.  Do we really want our children believing what they say matters?  That their opinions should change the course of their lives?  Have you watched the Sponge Bob?  Have you seen the influences that are molding young minds?  There's an old adage my daddy used to tell me: if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all.  I'm not even sure what language these kids are speaking, but I'm quite sure none of it is nice.  Freedom of Speech?  The sooner those children learn that nothing comes without a price, the sooner they can get jobs and help our economy flourish.  And again, we save money.  After all, what type of society do we live in?  Answer: a capitalist one.  Not a conversationalist one.  

Case in point: please read the transcript of a recent acceptance speech from the Grammy awards, when Kowshaft (Ronnie Cowhand and Dick Richards, both age 15) won for best new artist. 

"Wow, like, this is really great."

"Word."

"Who'd've ever thought two dudes from Evanston could make it all the way to the Grammy's.  This is just, like, totally sick."

"Word."

"And it ain't like we didn't not work hard to get here.  We been workin' on our sounds since we was eleven."

"Little boys, yo."

"Fo real.  And we'd just like to say, if we might get political up on y'all, that, you know, there are a lot of people out there.  And there are some countries where peoples are dyin.  Cause they're hungry yo.  So I'd like to say, why don't we bring all them dyin peoples over here to the United States of North America, since we got all that room here."

"Up in Canadia, yo."

"Thas right, yo.  And we can feed them all the food we don't want like broccoli and Spam, cause they so hungry they don't give a damn.  And if people would stop fighting and maybe hack the sack around, maybe so many peoples wouldn't be getting killed all the time.  Cause playas can't be killin when they be hackin, yo."

"Hack for peace!"

"Word!"

"Word!"

To the gallows with them!  String them up by their multiple piercings, and make America a safer, happier, more peaceful place to live! 

There's an old joke my daddy used to tell me, goes something like this:

Q: What do you tell a woman with two black eyes? 

A: Nothing.  You already told her twice!

I tell you this for two reasons: the first being the obvious sensibility of the narrator.  Had this woman had no freedom to speak, she would find herself with two less black eyes, thereby reducing the many cases of domestic abuse our police departments are plagued with.  The second reason for telling this joke being: if you don't like the joke – if you find it demeaning to women and to abuse victims – then you'll never have to hear it again, because no one will have the right to tell it.  It is a win win situation.  

If I have not convinced everyone yet of the necessity of abolishing the first amendment I apologize, for I fear I have done you a great injustice.  Let me just add, for every great speaker there are at least two more who are not.  For every Winston Churchill there is a Carson Daly, and a Mike Tyson.  For every Abraham Lincoln there is an Ozzy Osbourne, and worse, a Michael Moore.  And for all the Shakespeares in the world there are countless more Britney Spears, just waiting to make your brain cringe and collapse in on itself like a once bright star collapses into a black hole more putrid and repugnant than Courtney Love's underpants. 

Let me make one further point: we do not need the freedom of speech to survive.  It is the freedom of speech that needs us to survive.  Like some grubby little leech or plankton, being carried along and hoping to survive on the leftovers we throw it.  Well no more, I say!  No more and never again!  Together we can starve and defeat this drag on our society! 

I shall speak today again for nevermore!  Who's with me

Currently reading : Fletch, Too By Gregory Mcdonald Release date: 08 October, 2002

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Walking In My Winter Underwear
Category: News and Politics

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ON THE HOLIDAYS

Christmas was a little awkward this year.  Using some logarithm on their computer, my adopted Chinese babies from Korea, Pin Paw and Nek Phat, were able to figure out what each and every one of their Christmas presents were before they opened them, which made Christmas morning a dull affair.  My poor wife, Gretchen, had to decorate the living room around the quivering lump of Donny Rumsfeld that refuses to pack up and move from our couch. 

Our adopted son Brad was home from military school, although you wouldn't know it from all the time he spent in the guest room. (We turned his room into my hobby room once we shipped him out, and that room has subsequently become my History of Musical Theatre Museum. And I'm not about to move my autographed surrey with a fringe on top to the garage.)  And it was no coffee commercial when he arrived at three in the morning.  Nek Phat, who had been working on my state's budget for the New Year, happened to still be awake, and he hustled down the stairs to greet his adopted older brother.

"Bradrey!" 

"Hey."

"Everyone's asreep."

"I know how to wake them up."

No, he did not do it with crappy Folgers coffee.  He did it with a boat horn.  Ah Christmas.     

ON THE HOUSE

As the Democrats took control of the House, Pelosi was given the speaker's gavel by Boehner, which isn't as dirty as it sounds, but it still makes my skin crawl, nonetheless. 

Upon receiving the gavel, she slammed it on the podium and announced to the crowd:

"Free abortions in the lobby!  First come first serve!" 

Then she threw money at us.

It's going to be a long few years.

ON MISS USA

Who hasn't been on her?  I'm looking at you Miss Teen USA. 

But seriously, isn't there something epically wrong about this whole situation?  I'd put this one on par with the Bratz dolls replacing Barbie and Britney Spears procreating.  Why are there no decent roll models for young women anymore?  Where have you gone, Gidget?  Pollyanna, are you out there? 

I can't help but think that Miss USA is an amalgamation of all the country's young women.  That she in some way represents the ways in which our younger generation is behaving.  And let me tell you, I'm not a little embarrassed by that. 

When night after night the only role models our little girls are seeing are the ones flashing their snooches all over town, how do we expect Miss USA to behave?  It is her job to represent the young women of our country, and the majority of our young women are little snooch-flashing boob-showing lap-dance-giving drug puffing trollops.  So in that regard Miss USA did an admirable job of representing the whore-ish masses that are our next generation. 

And not that I'm ever going to take sides again with that lady that likes to ride busses with her sister, but when we let Donald Trump tell us how young ladies are supposed to behave, keep a close eye out for the four horsemen to come riding through town.      

ON INTELLIGENCE

John D. Africanamericanponte stepped down as the nation's top intelligence chief, and was promptly replaced by retired admiral Mike McConnell.  The following is a transcript of President Bush and Mike McConnell at their first meeting:

BUSH:  And uh, where's my reports?

MCCONNELL: Uh, well, I haven't finished those up yet, but you know I... I figured since they weren't due till...

BUSH: Hello? Hello? Anybody home? Huh? Think, McConnell. Think! I gotta have time to get 'em retyped. Do you realize what would happen if I hand in my reports in your handwriting? I'll get impeached. You wouldn't want that to happen, would ya? Would ya?

MCCONNELL: Of course not, Mr. President. I wouldn't want that to happen. Now, look. I'll finish those reports on up tonight and I'll run 'em on over first thing tomorrow. All right?

BUSH:  Not too early. I sleep in Saturday. Oh McConnell, your shoe's untied.
(Jabs his finger up to McConnell's face)  Don't be so gullible, McConnell.

ON IRAQ

I hate to admit this, but I'm so confused.  Anyone else?  Show of hands, who can say they have any idea at all what can be done with this dump hole of a country?  We killed off Saddam and everything still seems all wonky.  What's it going to take?

More troops?  Fewer troops?  No troops?  You got me.  I'm all for drop kicking the lot of them onto reservations and making it into New Texas, but I don't think the new "nicer" Senate would go for that. 

If the Iraqis would just stop fighting and let us do our job, we could get things built and get the heck out.  But they keep fighting us.  Why do they do that?  Don't they want schools and democracy?  Don't they want knowledge? 

Oh, maybe that's it.  Maybe they think because they don't believe in our Bible, then they do not have original sin.  Does Eve take the apple in the Koran?  Do the Iraqi people think that since they are without knowledge that they are also without sin?  Because I'm pretty sure that's not true.  I'm pretty sure you're just stupid if you do that… unless it concerns evolution, homosexuality, guns, or ligers (they're real, I swear!). 

Stupid Iraqis, please just let us do our job that we made up for ourselves.  You have no idea how much trouble your resistance is causing our country.  You're not just ruining your own country anymore; we lost the senate and the house because of you! 

And it would be nice if we could say that freedom is just for smart people – God knows I've tried.  But I've been told that freedom is for everyone, even stupid people in stupid counties that wouldn't know a good form of government if it came up and dropped a smart bomb in their stupid faces. 

ON TIME

Yes, yes, all you bloggers and TV personalities are so clever, photoshopping pictures of yourself onto the covers of the recent Time magazine that proclaimed "You" to be the person of the year.  Bet the good folks at Time didn't see that one coming.  Bet that's not a pant load of free advertising for them.

And I bet none of you look anything like this:

Vote For The Pretty – Vote Slowly 

Currently listening : Tambourine By Tift Merritt Release date: 24 August, 2004

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Tomkat Says We Do, Pamrock Says We Don't
Category: News and Politics

ON APOLOGIES

Let me just lump them all together here to set the record straight.  I'm sorry to the families of Nicole Brown Simpson and that other dead guy for saying the cops that arrested OJ had sugar tits (in my defense, they were more fructose boobs) and that his lawyers were Jews that controlled the world (in my defense, they are). 

I'd also like to apologize to that group of loud black people that I referred to as SHUT UP YOU LOUD BLACK PEOPLE!  That was uncalled for.  Kramer was not, as I may have implied, right about you people. 

I'd like to apologize to Whoopie Goldberg, for pointing out that she is the one person that both Mel Gibson and Kramer can hate.  

I'd like to apologize for flashing my hoo-ha when getting out of Paris Hilton's car…  no wait, that wasn't me.  That was Britney.  But seriously, let me take a moment to apologize on her behalf.  When a gust of wind comes along and reveals a small patch o' snatch, that's regrettable but understandable.  When you get out of a car and reveal your C-section scar to the world, that's a year's worth of therapy for both your Irish twins.  Just start apologizing now and don't stop until Sean Preston stars in the movie of the week: "Baby Momma Dearest."   

"No wire hangers, ya'll!  They crease my halter-tops!  Dag!"

ON A ROPE

The Pope went to Turkey just after Thanksgiving.  Anyone else think that's kind of funny?

ON IRAQ

The President and I have full faith in Prime Minister Maliki to run Iraq.  I know that the secret memo recently published said that some in the White House may have doubts in Maliki's ability to run a country, but rest assured that the President never reads a memo past page one.  And this was like a five pager.  There's no way he read that.  The President read up to the sentence:

"The dangers in Iraq may be caused by (over)"

And then he had to take a nap.  

ON MY NAME IS….

Pam Anderson and Kid Rock filed for divorce this week.  And I thought those two Rocks would make it. 

Apparently Kid got upset over the objectification of Pam in the recent Borat movie.

Really, Kid?  THAT'S the movie that made you lose respect for her?  Not the one where she gets Roto-Rootered by the guy with the size 27 shoe?  That one you're cool with? 

And since they were married in four different locations, does that mean they have to get divorced four times as well? 

I only hope this doesn't affect Kid's music career.  You know: that one song.   

ON SHAMU

A killer whale attacked its trainer at Sea World in San Diego on Wednesday, pulling its trainer under water for nearly a minute. The trainer survived with only a broken foot.  Sea World officials are still unclear as to what caused the whale to turn violent, but spectators said they thought they heard the trainer saying:

"Whoops, that's not a blowhole."   

ON TOMKAT

We just got back from Rome.  It was a lovely wedding, just lovely.  I really had no idea that Gretchen and I would be invited, but low and behold, when we opened our mail that glorious day, there sat our invite in an envelope made of gold and dipped in diamonds:

Dear John and Gretchen,

The Holmes would appreciate your attendance at the wedding of our daughter Katie (who's Kate?) to Tom Cruise (we're fine with the fact that she had a poster of him in her room when she was 13; that's not creepy at all).  It will be a traditional Scientologist wedding (or as traditional as a 50 year old fictional religion can get), so please bring your own tube of Preparation H, comfortable gel sandals, some tin foil, a trowel, a jar of mayonnaise, a jar of Miracle Whip, a 2600 from Atari with Space Invaders and Ms. Pac Man, and a deck of cards in which all the face cards have been replaced with Japanese Harajuku boys from Myspace (please include IM address if possible). 

No children please. 

Complimentary auditing will be performed in the solarium at the reception, but donations of $375 are expressly encouraged. 

Andrea Bocelli will be performing at the ceremony.  It is extremely important that no one wear Antonio Banderas' cologne Spirit, as this will send Andrea into a frothy rage.  Do not expose Andrea Bocelli to extreme heat.  Do not get Andrea Bocelli wet.  Do not taunt Andrea Bocelli.  Above all, do not feed Andrea Bocelli after midnight.

Please email us with any dietary restrictions at runkatie@ourdaughterisabeard.org. 

RSVP by the first Wednesday before the super fall solstice when the moon aligns with the dearly departed soul of L. Ron.  Do not respond after, because that would be weird. 

Hope to see you there!

Kat(i)e's Parent's Vote Slowly

www.voteslowly.com/senator

Currently reading : Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health By L. Ron Hubbard Release date: July, 2002

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And The Winner Is....
Category: News and Politics

ON VICTORY IS MINE!!!! 

And oh, how sweet it is!  Mmm mmmm mmmmmmmm, that's tasty!  I could eat it up with a spoon!

The Democrats thought by rolling out some Iraq War vet to run against me they'd earn some Brownie Points, but the voters saw through their little charade.  They know who the real hero is, and it isn't some broad that doesn't even know what a land mine looks like.  Come on!  You did go to boot camp, did you not?  Granted it was probably some watered down girly version, some sort of boot camp sponsored by Zappos or something, but they still trained you, right? 

Lesson number one of Land Mine Survival 101: don't step on a land mine.    

Lesson number two of Land Mine Survival 101: don't step off a land mine.

And all I did was Google it.  She had a whole class on it.  She clearly had not learned her lessons, and the voters saw that.  Thank you, voters.  And I suppose, thank you, land mine. 

Of course, not all of my Republican comrades came out of this election unscathed. 

I can't get Rumsfeld off my couch.  He's been there for three days now, watching his "stories" (no Don, I did not know that Laura came out of her coma) and eating tub after tub of Cherry Garcia.  I don't think he's changed his clothes once – and that's my bathrobe he's soiling up.  Guess that's my karma since I borrowed it from a hotel once, but still.  He got a nice severance package.  He's got plenty of time to find more work.  He's got good references and a letter of recommendation from both the President and Saddam Hussein – and not many can brag of that.  I'm sure he'll land on his feet if he'd just take his feet off my mahogany coffee table. 

Anyway, thank you once again to the 503 people that came out to vote for me.  We broke attendance records for midterm elections.  That's a whopping .003% of the state's population!  Not to pat myself on the back or anything, but, you know, pat pat.

And the FBI assures me (whatever) they're closing in on my would-be killer.  Their hypothesis is that the killer wasn't actually trying to kill me, but rather trying to keep me from campaigning – and not so I would lose the election, but so I wouldn't screw up my lead in the polls.  I don't buy that, though.  That would mean the killer is someone I probably know….   

But hey, did you know some other things have been happening that are newsworthy? 

ON LOST

What a cliffhanger, huh?  Jack's threatening Benry, Sawyer's about to be offed, Juliet's arching her eyebrows, and Kate's making tacos.  Does it get any better?  I might just have to cryogenically freeze myself until February. 

Although they will be showing previews for the February episodes during Taye Digg's new show, so I might not have to wait 12 weeks to get my groove back after all.

ON K-FED TO THE DOGS

Well who would have seen this one coming?  I really hoped those kids would make a go of it.  They seemed meant for each other.  Practically fated even.  He's such a good baby daddy to his other children, why would she want to stop paying for that? 

I guess fate had other plans in mind for Kevin. 

"But I don't wanna be on the Surreal Life, yo!"

ON SCIENCE

Blind mice regained some ability to see after getting transplants of cells taken from the eyes of other mice, strengthening the prospect that it may someday be possible to restore vision in some people who have lost most or all of their eyesight, scientists reported yesterday.

Good news for mice, bad news for the farmer's wife. 

ON MY KID BROTHER RAJ

And Reese and Ryan called it splits too?  Say it ain't so, Hollywood, say it ain't so! 

Ryan Phillipe has one of those faces you just want to punch, doesn't he?  Just to get the kid to stop scowling all the time, like his life is so rough.  Would it kill you to smile, Ryan?  If I were America's sweetheart (and who says I'm not) I wouldn't want to be around you either.  Give us a smile and get to the Surreal Life house.  K-Fed can give you a ride, just don't sit on his lap while he's driving. 

ON SENATE

So it's looking like the Democrats are going to be my boss, which means I'm going to do everything in my power to be a problem for them.  Hopefully then they'll throw some of that hard earned taxpayer money at me.

Rummy, make some space on the couch for Georgie Allen.  And quit hogging the afghan. 

Thanks For Voting Smart.  Thanks For Voting Slowly.      

Currently watching : Wag the Dog (New Line Platinum Series) Release date: 29 July, 1998

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Get Thee To A Voting Booth
Category: News and Politics

While recovering from my near fatal stingray attack and narrowly escaping assassination by Yankee kamikazes, I decided it would be safest to go camping in California.  So now I'm in the hospital with smoke inhalation and more orifices than any man should ever have when I should be out campaigning for re-election. 

On the plus side I do have the distinction of being the one senator that is not afraid to be seen with the President -- and the fact that he will not be seen with me doesn't matter.  I am a staunch supporter of the President's administration, and I don't care who knows it. 

I am a little afraid of the VP.  But don't tell him that.  And if it's all the same to you, please don't tell him where I am. 

So I've had time to catch up on the news and more TV during my convalescence.... 

ON OBAMA

So the Democrat's golden boy may run for President come 2008, and the liberals are already out ringing their Godless church bells.   

But come on, he's just a kid.  He's managed to not sound too stupid for two years and you people act like he killed Voldemort (sh!) or something.   

ON KERRY

John Kerry recently remarked that if you don't do well in school, "you get stuck in Iraq."  This statement has understandably angered many a soldier and frightened many a retarded student. 

ON DESPERATELY SEEKING ATTENTION

To quell growing controversy, Madonna's newly adopted son has released a statement:

"I was born a poor black child.  I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Malawi.  Until Mommadonna came and turned me faux-British.  Then I was like, I'm gonna go then.  And I don't need any of this.  I don't need this stuff, and I don't need you. I don't need anything except this. And that's it and that's the only thing I need, is this. I don't need this or this. Just this ashtray. The ashtray, this paddle game and the remote control and the lamp and that's all I need. And that's all I need too. I don't need one other thing, not one - I need this. The paddle game, and the chair, and the remote control, and the matches, for sure. And this. And that's all I need. The ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, this magazine and the chair.  And I don't need one other thing, except my dog…  I don't need my dog."

Boy, you ask me that kid's a real jerk.      

ON THE WORLD SERIES

Thank you Detroit, for reminding me why I gave up watching professional sports long ago.  I thought, eh, it's on, let's root for the Tigers, see how that goes. 

Were they drunk?  Did they forget to drink their morning smoothies of blueberries and 'roids?  I'm not sure, but there had to be some reason they made it all the way to the World Series, right? 

But at least it's safer to live in Detroit than St. Louis, which is something I thought I'd never say. 

ON MY ELECTION DAY SPEECH

What's he that wishes to cut and run from Iraq?  My opponent, the Democrat?  No, my fair Democrat; if our soldiers are marked to die, they are enough to do our country loss; and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more from the reserves. By Jove, I am not covetous for weapons of mass destruction, nor care I who doth feed upon my cost (as long as it be not a crack whore); it yearns me not if men my Kevlar garments wear; such outward things dwell not in my desires.  But if it be a sin to covet oil, I am the most offending soul alive.  No, faith, my opponent, wish not a hybrid car.

Gay marriage!  I would not lose so great an honor as one man more in marriage that would share from me the civil union I have. O, do not wish one more dude! Rather proclaim it, Democrat, through my host, that he which hath no stomach to get on a woman, let him depart; his passport shall be made for Canada, and crowns for convoy put into his Prada purse; we would not vote in that man's company that fears the fellowship of a vagina.

This day is called the feast of Crispin Glover. He that votes Slowly this day, and comes safe home, will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, and rouse him at the name of McFly. He that shall vote Slowly this day, and see old age, will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors, and say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispin Glover.  I am your density.' Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, and say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.  Get your damn hands off her.'  This story shall the good man teach his son; and Crispin Glover shall ne'er go by, from this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered- you few, you happy few, you band of brothers; for he to-day that votes for me shall be my brother;