Fisting Burris

I believe it’s called “strong-arming” but that doesn’t tell you anything about how the US Constitution might win out over Blago’s appointed geezer, Roland Burris. More so, my headline tells you more about how I feel about this mess.

Forbes magazine has the scoop.

In its landmark 1969 ruling in Powell v. McCormack, the Supreme Court held that Article I, Section 5, which makes "[e]ach House...the Judge of the Elections...and Qualifications of its own Members,"…set forth in Article I, Section 2.

Blah, blah blippity bloop. This means that President-elect Obama was upholding the Constitution when he urged the senate to deny any piece of trash from being appointed to his former office. Especially if said trash was installed by helmet-headed enema pump, Gov. Blagojevich. Now look, I’m just as shocked as anyone that a president of the US is respecting our constitution. I need to sit down.

Still, let’s be clear about something, though. As a registered voter in Illinois, and a Democrat, I would have preferred a special election. Our Dems here could have easily introduced legislation that would have allowed citizens to vote for a new senator, instead of letting Blago show his ass. Why didn’t that happen, Santa?

Democrats in IL were noisily shuffling impeachment papers (to sound busy), but mostly they were busy practising their favorite dance moves in anticipation of dancing on Blago’s political grave. The problem is that Blago isn’t dead yet. Also, Dems are worried that a special election might give a Republican candidate a leg up. A GOP smack-down for the future president’s former job? Oh, the humanity!

I can see how Dems would have a psychological problem with that scenario, but they don’t all live here and I do. Anyone in IL will back me up when I say that Dems and Repubs work together in this state. They lunch together, and they share the same greasy friends. Both sides have a stake in fisting IL taxpayers. No politician here has ever been caught appointing their children to jobs, or giving their butt-buddies big contracts because our pols don’t hide anything! No one, not ever! The processes are 100% transparent and up our ass without the benefit of lubrication or dinner afterward. If a Republican were elected over a Democrat, it would not make any difference. It’s that bad. And that is why those bastards owed us a chance to vote.

Believe me when I say I’m going to remember this on Election Day in two years. It will be interesting to see how many of Obama’s former volunteers, like me, effect real change at home. There are two moods I'm going to take with me to my designated voting place: disgusted and pissed off. Please join me.

Happy 2009

365 days, fresh and new. Delivered in seconds.

Has anyone else typed that? If I came up with it on my own, I'll freak out.

Dear World:

Thank you for dropping in, even if you loaded this page by accident. When I’m lucky, what I write is something I wouldn’t mind being seen in public with. Other days there are pages that remind me of Thalidomide babies, in that I’m sorry it happened and I wish I could make it better. But I keep shaking the dice and knocking things out because – OH BOY – I fuckin’ love sentences! Mmm, sentences. I read plenty, or I make my own.

Thank you for your comments here. I would agree that all of you are capable of borrowing my car or using my bathroom without making anyone sad or embarrassed. I mean it - you people are all right by me. Even if you turn on a fire hose in my living room, I am confident that you would do so with a certain sense of panache or righteous indignation. I believe you, and I believe in you.

Today I'm going to sleep-off a mild hangover and make Oyster Stew. I'm kind of good at that - Oyster Stew, I mean (not hangovers) . I use leftover champagne to its best advantage, along with heavy whipping cream, shallots, secret spices and potatoes. Oysters give up their lives to crawl into my stew, as you may have heard. Forgive me for being so bold, but there are some things that cannot be disputed by man because the scientific data is above reproach. You would not believe how many rabbits I had to blind, or the number of rashes I have afflicted on humanity in order to make a perfect Oyster Stew. I do stew every year, once, and no one can stop me.

Wish you were here.

Good luck to you for 2009. Keep breathing in and out, and do right by somebody.

Warmest Regards From Hell,
Your pal Mojo

Hero Of 2008: Master Legend

No, I’m not going to roll back 2008 and sing about change with my unicorn riding President-elect. I’ve had my fun and now I’d like to think about tomorrow. One man comes to mind when I think of a better world, and his name is Master Legend. I read about him in Rolling Stone magazine, and it seems to me that it’s high time to build someone up instead of tearing someone else down. Read the article and get back to me. It’s worth the time.

Once upon a time in New Orleans, there was a young boy who became a superhero when he triumphed against evil and beat the bloody pulp out of his abusive father. On that day, Master Legend came to be and learned how to use his special powers for justice, in the name of dignity. Master Legend prefers peaceful resolutions, but he is not afraid to deliver punishing blows to bad guys, as needed.


Master Legend is a man of considerable wealth, if you were to factor such a thing in terms of personal enrichment instead of cash. What good is cash unless you can give it away to people who need it? Master Legend does not care of he has been evicted. He will move his headquarters elsewhere and battle evildoers from a new, unpublished location.


Working without a budget? That takes a special kind of bravery.

My hero of 2008, Master Legend, is a grown man wearing a silver costume, lives in a beat-up shotgun shack and drinks Busch beer. He doesn’t just “help people out”. No! He goes on covert missions! Master Legend has weapons with voltage and shiny tools that he made himself - NO PROBS. Every new day has a purpose. Oh, how I wish I could be with Master Legend in Florida, combating staph infections by providing the homeless with clean socks. I would be grateful to ride with his posse and save turtles from ruthless land developers! I hate crackheads, too! Sign me up.

If the world needs a masked crusader, if a selfless optimist wearing nut-smushing spandex can save us, then I want to be a part of that world. Count me in.

Master Legend, long may you wave!

RAPTUROOS

Sinners, have you ever wondered what to wear for The Rapture? Think no more, Christians. RAPTUROOS are the perfect undergarment for those days when Armageddon seems imminent.

RAPTUROOS are made of a comfortable blended fabric, featuring the face of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ on the crotch panel. RAPTUROOS are not flame-resistant, but what do you care? Rapture-Ready Christians won’t need to spend extra money to worry about hellfire OR damnation! Glory!

Christian women love RAPTUROOS, and their husbands and sons like them too!

Wear a fresh pair of RAPTUROOS everyday while you’re waiting to MEET YOUR MAKER!

If you’re a Jesus –loving, Bible-belting, promise ring-wearing, green bean casserole-making, church bulletin-typing, long-suffering, speaking-in-tongues BELIEVER…buy some RAPTUROOS TODAY! You never know when they might come in handy!!! It could be any minute!!!! HURRY!

Israel v. Hamas: Who's Left Standing?

Israel versus Hamas. Welcome to the latest round of Who’s Left Standing! There are so many addendums to this raging dispute that I would run out of Blogspot space before I labeled a fraction of busted villages.

I was talking to my idiot brother-in-law over the weekend. “You know what we need to do over there? Stand back and let them drop a nuke. When the whole region turns to glass, call me.” Well gee, human casualties aside and a nuclear winter, I’m thinking that’s a really bad idea. Call me crazy.

I don’t get it. No, I understand why they fight, but I don’t get the whole bloodshed and suicide vest thing. Why live that way? I can’t think of a thing in the world that would be worth living in rubble 24/7, 365 days a year. Can you?

If it were up to me, I’d offer up a sliver of diplomacy. “Let’s have a shower, sleep on a patch of our own beds tonight, and work out some shit in the morning.” But NO! Nope, we have to stand by and pay attention to Christiane Amanpour. I love her dearly, but I keep hoping she wouldn’t have anything to report.

Innocent people who don’t care a bit for grudge matches, religion or politics will spend New Year’s Eve in mourning. I don’t want to spend Monday thinking about this, either. And we must. Why? Because we have a shred of empathy left.