December 07, 2013
Haven't been posting here too much due to a) being blocked at work during lunch and b) that third child takes up a bit of my time. Much like the other two, of course. In any event, my wit and wisdom (stop laughing) can be found most days on Twitter. However, I really have a hankering to do some more long form posts in the near future. Right now though, I'm going through popcorn by the truckload while watching the Titanic-sized disaster that is Obamacare. Actually, that isn't really fair to the Titanic: the passengers at least had some ice for their drinks before the ship sank.
August 11, 2013
Your costs will do down and if you like your doctor, you can keep him
Of course, then you wake up. Anyway, here's an excerpt from Powerline detailing the actual changes that Obamacare will make in your medical future. They're aren't... they're don't... they're not... good. They suck.
One of the things Obamacare is doing is forcing Medicare’s CMS to cut back on quite a lot of rehabilitation services. CMS, even though it is officially for Medicare and Medicaid, is something that governs reimbursement for all insurance. It sets prices for every single medical procedure and device, etc., etc. Hospitals’ ability to seek reimbursement for something, regardless of whether the insurance is private or not, is set by CMS. It is the Big Brother of healthcare. Even though CMS has been in place for a very long time it is the whip hand for Obamacare rationing.
One of the things that changed for “new” stroke patients was limiting reimbursable therapy visits of all kinds for stroke patients to ten total (because my stokes had happened before the change I was grandfathered in, so to speak). Ten!
I have had well north of 200 visits. At upwards of $250/visit for most therapy not many folks could sustain that for long without insurance (and remember, jobs go away when you’re in the hospital as long as I was). Had I been restricted to ten visits my best case scenario would have involved a home nurse. I wouldn’t have been able to find work. And had I been single (as many stroke patients are because they’re elderly and their spouse has passed) I would have become destitute, thus likely landing in the Medicaid system, eventually.
But hey, omelette, eggs, your death.
Update: And this is when you believe that your Divine Shit ™ does not stink at all.
Now what’s true, Ed, is that in a normal political environment, it would have been easier for me to simply call up the speaker and say, you know what? This is a tweak that doesn’t go to the essence of the law. It has to do with, for example, are we able to simplify the attestation of employers as to whether they’re already providing health insurance or not. It looks like there may be some better ways to do this. Let’s make a technical change of the law.
That would be the normal thing that I would prefer to do, but we’re not in a normal atmosphere around here when it comes to, quote- unquote, “Obamacare.”
We did have the executive authority to do so, and we did so. But this doesn’t go to the core of implementation.
It's good to be king. Or a malignantly narcissistic fuckwad. Your choice.
August 10, 2013
This is your brain on, crikey, I have no idea
Denial of reality: it's what's for dinner. Check out this statement from Landrieu:
I was stunned to then hear my Louisiana senator defend the massive U.S. debt saying: “That is not true, sir! We do not have an increasing national debt! For the past six to seven years we have been continuously driving that debt down and reducing it and it is NOT increasing.
Frankly, I couldn't make that statement without doubling over in laughter. I spent more than a decade in theater and that is one line I simply could not have pulled off with a straight face.
Well, this is cheery
But I find it impossible to disagree with the conclusion in this article.
bama is merely a name, a speck in history. If it were not him now it would be some other soon. Whether Mr. Obama dreams of dictatorship or not, he will not likely achieve this. He is too early in the death of a nation.
Mr. Obama will likely be remembered as a political form of John the Baptist, one who was significant and abetted what comes next. Some unknown successor will be the real thing. He may be Democrat or Republican. He may come next election or ten elections from now. But he or she will come. Such is the nature of men, power and history.
At some point a ruthless politician will gain total control. He will have the power and control of a Stalin, Hitler or Mao. How that power will be used is moot, but power gained is never not used. Hoping for a benevolent dictator is worse than trying to draw to an inside straight. Even if you get lucky, you will lose with his successor.
America is now run by political sociopaths, unrestricted by laws, ethics or tradition. That characterizes both political parties. It does not matter whether we elect a “good man” next. No country survives dependent on the masses electing the right man.
Countries survive with systems that protect them against the wrong man. We have lost that protection.
Hat tip to Doug Ross.
May 20, 2013
What do you think?
The absolute worst scandal that’s emerged lately, and the worst administration scandal in American history is the IRS scandal. Why? Because you, the People, became the targets of a comprehensive federal government effort to stifle dissent, one made using the government’s overwhelming and disproportionate policing and taxing powers.
All of the other scandals, going back to Andrew Johnson’s post-Civil War scandals, Warren G. Harding’s 1920s Teapot Dome scandal, Nixon’s Watergate, Reagan’s Iran-Contra, and Clinton’s Oval Office sexcapades have actually been narrowly focused acts of cronyism, garden-variety political chicanery, or personal failings. It’s been insider stuff.
The IRS scandal, by contrast, is a direct attack on the American people.
May 11, 2013
From our cold dead hands
There is only one real question here Prog-Nazi: “How many of us gun-owners are you willing to kill to get our firearms?”
We won’t surrender one more inch except over our cooling corpses – and make no mistake – there are millions that feel as we do. Your hoplophobia is no justification for stripping citizens of their God-given, constitutionally enumerated civil rights. (No matter how many poor dead children’s graves your mercilessly play your totalitarian siren song from).
Ruminate on exactly how many of us you and your kind will have to massacre. Ponder it long and hard before you and your ilk start an Afghanistan style 4th generation civil-war stateside.
Let’s get 100% hypothetical here – and I will explain how the civil war you think you want will play out:
Update: Mike Hendrix offers similar thoughts:
Wanna know what the real “overriding factor” is? We will not comply with any new gun-grabbing legislation. If you persist, we will fight you. Holding people who haven’t killed anybody responsible for some random lunatic’s murders is a grave injustice. Stripping them of their single most important Constitutional right under false pretenses is a far graver one. When injustice becomes law, resistance becomes duty.
We know what you people are. We know what you really want. You are not going to get it. Not without a fight.
Come and take them, motherfuckers.
This is what technology has come to
And not a moment too soon. Behold: Flying drone will air-drop beer to music festival attendees
Until now, a beer dropping out of the sky into the middle of a party has been a feat that only existed in TV commercials. Thanks to Darkwing Aerials though, attendees at the Oppikoppi music festival in South Africa can fulfill the dream of beer lovers everywhere and have a fresh brew delivered to them from above with the help of a flying drone.
Things like this restore my faith in humanity. Briefly, of course, but I'll take what I can get.
What he said
Russ over at Ace's place makes the following observation, which I'm going to excerpt in full because it's short:
A peer-reviewed study comparing/contrasting the effectiveness of various lubricants in easing the pain of having Comprehensive Immigration Reform jammed up America's collective squeakhole. In descending order of effectiveness:
4. Nothing (control group)
5. Assurances that "Hispanics are a natural GOP constituency, and will rocket conservatism back into the White House for the next 50 years"
I noticed that he didn't add a seventh entry for "broken glass". I'm sure it was just an oversight.
April 25, 2013
Thought for the day
From my friend Caltech Girl comes the following:
February 16, 2013
Quote of the day
So Obama is not at all connected to the tragic destruction of this country. He is seen as somebody who wants to fix it. It's the same thing as people seeing Colonel Sanders as a guy running a hospital to save chickens.
I've said it before and I will repeat it now:
There are days when I despair and think that a humanity-ending meteor would be the best thing. Those are my optimistic days.
February 09, 2013
January 07, 2013
It's good advice.
December 18, 2012
Holiday images (repost)
Someone asked me once why I reposted lots of stuff during the Christmas season. Easy: I'm lazy. Satisfied?
Well, I can't get the images to tile the way I want them to, so I'll post them in as they are.
Twelve days of Christmas (repost)
Not only did I post this last year, I've sent it out via email for more than 10 years. I promised you old and stale, and I've delivered ancient and decayed. No thanks are necessary.
December 14, 1972
My dearest darling John:
Who ever in the whole world would dream of getting a real Partridge
in a Pear Tree? How can I ever express my pleasure. Thank you a
hundred times for thinking of me this way.
My love always,
December 15, 1972
Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two
turtle doves. I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They
are just adorable.
All my love,
December 16, 1972
Oh! Aren't you the extravagant one. Now I must protest. I don't
deserve such generosity, three French hens. They are just darling
but I must insist, you've been too kind.
All my love,
December 17, 1972
Today the postman delivered four calling birds. Now really, they are
beautiful, but don't you think enough is enough. You are being too
December 18, 1972
What a surprise. Today the postman delivered five golden rings, one for
every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, all
those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.
All my love,
December 19, 1972
When I opened the door today there were actually six geese laying on my
front steps. So you're back to the birds again huh? These geese are huge.
Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can't
sleep through the racket. Please stop.
December 20, 1972
What's with you and those freaking birds?? Seven swans a swimming. What
kind of damn joke is this? There's bird poop all over the house and they
never stop the racket. I can't sleep at night and I'm a nervous wreck. It's
not funny. So stop those freaking birds.
December 21, 1972
I think I prefer the birds. What the hell am I going to do with 8
maids a milking? It's not enough with all those birds and 8 maids a
milking, but they had to bring their damn cows. There is manure all over the
lawn and I can't move in my own house. Just lay off me, smartass.
December 22, 1972
What are you.....some kind of sadist? Now there's nine pipers
playing. And Christ do they play. They've never stopped chasing
those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are
getting upset and they're stepping all over those screeching birds.
What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict
You'll get yours !
December 23, 1972
You rotten prick:
Now there's ten ladies dancing. I don't know why I call those sluts
ladies. They've been balling those pipers all night long. Now the
cows can't sleep and they've got diarrhea. My living room is a river
of shit. The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause
why the building shouldn't be condemned. I'm calling the police on you !
December 24, 1972
What's with those eleven lords a leaping on those maid and ladies?
Some of those broads will never walk again. Those pipers ran through the
maids and have been committing sodomy with the cows. All twenty-three
of the birds are dead. They've been trampled to death in the orgy. I hope
you're satisfied, you rotten vicious swine.
You're sworn enemy,
December 25, 1972
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of twelve fiddlers fiddling
which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Agnes
McHolstein. The destruction, of course, was total. All
correspondence should come to our attention. If you should
attempt to reach Miss McHolstein at Happy Dale Sanitarium,
the attendants have been instructed to shoot you on sight.
With this letter please find attached a warrant for your arrest.
Law Offices of Badger, Bender and Chole
A special Christmas message (repost)
To all of those long suffering sons or daughters-in-law...
Dear Darling Son and That Person You Married,
Merry Christmas to you, and please don't worry. I'm just fine considering I can't breathe or eat. The important thing is that you have a nice holiday, thousands of miles away from your ailing mother. I've sent along my last ten dollars in this card, which I hope you'll spend on my grandchildren. God knows their mother never buys them anything nice. They look so thin in their pictures, poor babies.
Thank you so much for the birthday flowers, dear boy. I put them in the freezer so they'll stay fresh for my grave. Which reminds me, we buried Grandma last week. I know she died years ago, but I got to yearning for a good funeral so Aunt Berta and I dug her up and had the services all over again. I would have invited you, but I know that woman you live with would have never let you come. I bet she's never even watched that videotape of my hemorrhoid surgery, has she?
Well son, it's time for me to crawl off to bed now. I lost my cane beating off muggers last week, but don't you worry about me. I'm also getting used to the cold since they turned my heat off and am grateful because the frost on my bed numbs the constant pain. Now don't you even think about sending any more money, because I know you need it for those expensive family vacations you take every year.
Give my love to my darling grandbabies and my regards to whatever-her-name-is, the one with the black roots in her hair who stole you screaming from my bosom. Merry Christmas.
Barbie's letter to Santa (repost)
Yes, I posted this before. I did warn you....
Barbie's Letter To Santa
Listen you fat little troll, I've been helping you out every year,
playing at being the perfect Christmas Present, wearing skimpy bathing
suits in frigid weather, and drowning in fake tea from one too many tea
parties, and I hate to break it to ya Santa, but IT'S DEFINITELY PAY
BACK TIME! There had better be some changes around here this Christmas,
or I'm gonna call for a nationwide meltdown (and trust me, you won't
wanna be around to smell it).
So, here's my holiday wish list for 1998, Santa.
1. A nice, comfy pair of sweat pants and a frumpy, oversized sweatshirt.
I'm sick of looking like a hooker. How much smaller are these bathing
suits gonna get? Do you have any idea what it feels like to have nylon
and velcro up your butt?
2. Real underwear that can be pulled on and off. Preferably white. What
bonehead at Mattel decided to cheap out and MOLD imitation underwear to
my skin?!? It looks like cellulite!
3. A REAL man... maybe GI JOE. Hell, I'd take Tickle-Me-Elmo over that
wimped-out excuse for a boy toy Ken. And what's with that earring anyway?
If I'm gonna have to suffer with him, at least make him (and me)
4. Arms that actually bend so I can push the aforementioned Ken-wimp
away once he is anatomically correct.
5. Breast reduction surgery. I don't care whose arm you have to twist,
just get it done.
6. A jog-bra. To wear until I get the surgery.
7. A new career. Pet doctor and school teacher just don't cut it. How
about a systems analyst? Or better yet, a public relations senior
8. A new, more 90's persona. Maybe "PMS Barbie", complete with a
miniature container of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a
bag of chips; "Animal Rights Barbie", with my very own paint gun,
fitted with a fake fur coat, bottle of spray on blood and handcuffs;
or "Stop Smoking Barbie," sporting a Nicotrol patch and equipped with
several packs of gum.
9. No more McDonald's endorsements. The grease is wrecking my vinyl.
10. Mattel stock options. It's been 37 years-I think I deserve it.
Okay Santa, that's it. Considering my valuable contribution to society, I
don't think these requests are out of line. If you disagree, then you can
find yourself a new bitch for next Christmas. It's that simple.
Ken's Letter To Santa
I understand that one of my colleagues has petitioned you
for changes in her contract, specifically asking for anatomical and
career changes. In addition, it is my understanding that disparaging
remarks were made about me, my ability to please, and some of my
fashion choices. I would like to take this opportunity to inform you
of some issues concerning Ms. Barbie, and some of my own needs and
First of all, I along with several other colleagues feel
Barbie DOES NOT deserve preferential treatment - the bitch has
everything. Along with Joe, Jem, Raggedy Ann & Andy, I DO NOT have
a dream house, corvette, evening gowns, and in some cases the ability
to change our hair style. I personally have only 3 outfits which I am
forced to mix and match at great length.
My decision to accessorize my outfits with an earring was my
decision and reflects my lifestyle choice.
I too would like a change in my career. Have you ever considered
"Decorator Ken", "Beauty Salon Ken", or "Out Of Work Actor Ken"? In
addition, there are several other avenues which could be considered such
"S&M Ken" , "Green Lantern Ken", "Circuit Ken", "Bear Ken", "Master Ken".
These would more accurately reflect my desires and perhaps open up new
markets. And as for Barbie needing bendable arms so she can "push me
away," I need bendable knees so I can kick the bitch to the curb.
Bendable knees would also be helpful for me in other situations - we've
talked about this issue before.
In closing, I would like to point out that any further concessions
to the blond bimbo from hell will result in action be taken by myself and
others. And Barbie can forget about having Joe - he's mine, at least that's
what he said last night.
December 10, 2012
What if Santa answered his letters truthfully?
All repeats, all the time!
I wud like a kool toy space ranjur fer Xmas. Iv ben a gud
boy all yeer.
Nice spelling. You're on your way to a career in lawn care.
How about I send you a fucking book so you can learn to read and
write? I'm giving your older brother the space ranger. At least HE
I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is
peace and joy in the world for everybody!
You're parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?
I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my
mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do.
Look, your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a
hurricane. Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your
frigid mom, who rides his ass constantly? It's time to give up that
dream. Let me get you some nice Legos instead.
I want a new bike, a Playstation, a train, some G.I. Joes, a dog, a
drum kit, a pony and a tuba.
Who names their kid "Damien" nowadays? I bet you're gay.
I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots
for your reindeer outside the back door.
Milk gives me the runs and carrots make the deer fart in my face
when riding in the sleigh. You want to do me a favor? Leave me a bottle
What do you do the other 364 days of the year? Are you busy
All the toys are made in China. I have a condo in Vegas, where I
spend most of my time making low-budget porno films. I unwind
by drinking myself silly and squeezing the asses of cocktail waitresses
while losing money at the craps table. Hey,you wanted to know.
Do you see us when we're sleeping, do you really know when we're
awake, like in the song?
Are you really that gullible? Good luck in whatever you do. I'm
skipping your house.
I really really want a puppy this year. Please please please PLEASE
PLEASE could I have one?
That whiney begging shit may work with your folks, but that crap
doesn't work with me. You're getting a sweater again.
We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our house?
First, stop calling yourself "Joey", that's why you're getting your
ass whipped at school. Second, you don't live in a house, you live in a
low-rent apartment complex. Third, I get inside your pad just like
all the burglars do, through your bedroom window.
A heart-warming Christmas post (repost)
My Christmas Story
Late last week, I was rushing around trying to get some last minute shopping
done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the Christmas
season right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was
loading my car up with gifts that I felt obligated to buy. I noticed that I
was missing a receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my breath,
I retraced my steps to the mall entrance.
As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet
sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years
old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged
flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill. Oddly enough, he
was holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand. Thinking that he had gotten
lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong.
He told me his sad story. He said that he came from a large family. He had
three brothers and two sisters. His father had died when he was nine years
old. His mother was poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She made
very little to support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to
save two hundred dollars to buy her children Christmas presents. The young
boy had been dropped off on the way to her second job. He was to use the
money to buy presents for all his siblings and save just enough to take
the bus home.
He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of the
hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night.
"Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked. The boy said, "I did." "And
nobody came to help you?" I wondered. The boy stared at the sidewalk and
sadly shook his head. "How loud did you scream?" I inquired. The soft-spoken
boy looked up and meekly whispered, "Help me!"
I realized that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry
So, I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car.
December 04, 2012
gas hot water and baggies
I have so got to try this.
I'm kind of anal retentive when it comes to backing up my data. Not only do I save the data, I image the entire hard drive. Comes in kind of handy if your disc ever crashes. Anyway, Pop Mech has a decent article on saving and retrieving data. Go forth and read. Unless, of course, you really don't want to save all of those photos of your spouse, children and pets from the last decade or more.
A narcissistic little man-child
Now comes a fresh sample of the man with a hat size surely at least 11.
Last weekend contained an historic day in the calendar of American civil rights.
It was the anniversary of that day in Montgomery, Alabama when an NAACP worker, a black woman named Rosa Parks, refused a city bus driver's orders to give up her seat in the colored section to a white.
Parks was not the first black to do that. But her arrest for civil disobedience that day became the rallying focus for a bus boycott and widespread demonstrations. Parks said simply she grew "tired of giving in."
Last Saturday was the 57th anniversary of the woman's catalytic act of defiance aboard Montgomery public transportation.
To honor the historic memory of civil rights leader Rosa Parks, Obama's White House website posted a photo -- not of Rosa Parks, but of Barack Obama.
Obama voters call the help desk
A clue they could not find, not even if one bit them in the ass.
November 24, 2012
From my friend Rachel Lucas comes this stirring speech by Bill Whittle. enjoy.
Wouldn't it be nice...
November 20, 2012
Wasting precious oxygen
I think that I'll let Misha and the commenters at his site go to town the piece of human debris pictured below:
I'm happy that the company she works(ed? he asks hopefully) for will decide to add her to the ranks of the Funemployed. Because she might as well have dropped trou and squeezed off a loaf onto the tomb. Really no difference.
Update: Best comment so far:
I had this on my Facebook, and one of my friends commented “I bet she’ll be running for office as a Democrat soon.”
Sandra Fluke/Lindsay Stone 2016!
He's a witch! Burn him!
Holy crap, there's no way Rubio can win in 2016. In fact, the only reason he won the last time out was because no one knew about his insanely stupid views. More below the fold.Continue reading "He's a witch! Burn him!"