From the Rather Outwardly Dull Upstate New York Village of Lake Flaccid, Comes Our Own: Barabbas (Bar Kochba) Munn-Dayne, the Jots & Tittles Man--Long Time, No See, J&T Man.....................................................................................>
I've been bored. It's been a boring spring in Lake Flaccid. Kind of steamy for this time of year. The lake smells bad, for instance. Usually the spring spares us the lake smell, but not this year. Lake Flaccid is flatulent early this year. Yes, I am still working on my tome on Cecil, my favorite now Lake Flaccidian. The Dog-face Boy III. OK, I have to prove it, I guess--and I'm old enough to remember "Eye Guess," the TV game show with that crippled guy host, Bill Cullen was his name. He wore black horned-rim glasses. They were the rage in those days with both men and women but especially men. Men seemed to think it made them look intellectual and not geekish like they do on today's nerd population--imagine, the nerds taking over black horned-rim glasses and turning them into geek glasses. But they were geek glasses back in those days, too, like Milhouse on The Simpsons. My father wore wire rims, gold wire rims. That was the rage in his day--WWII. And, yes, because of my old man, I admit it, I'm a Baby Boomer; I'm the one who's going to ruin the economy eventually--yep, it's my generation who's ruining us now--Larry Summers, Robert Rudin, Leon Panetta (what a fool he proved himself to be this week--he was in Clinton's administration and now here he is back full-throttle dumb in Obama's administration--no change in Leon's case), and all the corporate heads of state--all are Baby Boomers. And of course we Boomers are pissed off at Social Security and Medicare. We Boomers have been convinced by what thegrowlingwolf yelps about as the Power Elite, actually the elders of that clan, that those two "socialistic" aspects of our otherwise God-driven conservative government are being financed through our ruin and damnation so that by the time we retire, we'll owe the government rather than them owing us. We believe that, and we also are easily hoodwinked (check the word out) by our Christian-God-blessed leaders, whether political or corporate, because we really believe in and are following the American-Dream-based theory that the very wealthy must be divinely blessed with correct intelligence, otherwise, how did they get so filthy rich? Therefore, it becomes very hard for us to see our betters as liars, as being corrupt, as being criminals, thieves, swindlers, robber barons, deceivers, usurers, fornicators, perverts, insane! And we truly believe those "wise" leaders as being right in being bound and determined to privatize Social(ist) Security and therefore eventually wipe it out and replace it with all of us and especially seniors having to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps through Fidelity or Charles Schwab accounts based on Wall Street calculations and determinations, risk being part of the new American game--the Power Elite therefore gaining access to a huge pool of billions of US worthless dollars for them to speculate with and bail each other out of debt with.
While I'm on the subject, do you know what really brought down the U.S. auto industry? The financial end of it. General Motors GMAC; Ford's financial branch; and Chrysler's, too. During the real estate and loan-sharking boom, these financial institutions were brimming over with bucks due to everybody in this country buying houses and then having to buy two cars to go in their new million-dollar houses's two-car garages, with the big wide driveways in front of those garages for the kids's cars. I mean cars were selling like hot cakes. And these financial institutions found themselves with cash overflows. So what did they do with all that money they had? They speculated with it in the booming loan-sharking schemes being successfully pulled off to the tune of billions--even little scheming weasels like Bernie Madoff could steal billions from these over-rich speculators with so much money they didn't know what to do with it so they went to Wall Street gurus and soothsayers and set up hedge funds and private equity groups and soon the big shots at GMAC were sending over wheelbarrels full of bonuses to the GM headquarters and all was rose-colored glasses bright until the bubble burst. Until the poor suckers who were suckered into these schemes couldn't pay back anything they were so far in debt--maxing out their credit cards to stay afloat--then losing their jobs (unemployment in US is currently zooming up to around 8.9% and it's still on the rise, which to me is disastrous but to which Baby Boomers are supposed to reply, "Well, yeah it's bad, but hey we've got to trust these Wall Street guys who know all about this stuff--so where do I go to pick cotton, boss man?"--and, yes, we were all suckers for these loan-sharks' sales pitches: "Hey, my friend, I see you looking at that Caddy SUV over there...that all black one with the one-way windows and the heavy-duty fogs on the front there looking like hawk eyes at night when you're tooling peddle down at 90 on the NY Thruway--man are the old-fogy pokies going to get out of your way, my man, when you come at 'em in that ruthless-looking machine." "Yeah, that's a nice lookin' car alright--my neighbor, that bastard, just bought one, but, hell, it's out of my price range." "Whoaaaaa, brother, not to worry about that. You want that beast, I'll see that you get it." "Come on, I'm up to my neck paying off my mortgage now. Plus, I didn't get the raise I was expecting, and, too, they are laying off people on my job...." "Listen, brother, at GMAC, we have a deep gut feeling for people like you. You're working hard; you're making top bucks; you're high in your field; and, hell, fellow-well-met, in a way, I'm just like you. Hell yes, I've got a big mortgage I'm paying off, too; plus my wife just announced she'd run up a couple a thousand on her American Express Platinum and they were harassing her...anyway, you catch my drift. So, if you want that Caddy, let's go to my office and I'll make you a deal you can't refuse. You'll drive that tank out of here right now, commander--and when the little lady sees you driven up in that baby, you're going to be a lucky man tonight, brother, again, if you catch my drift." "Let's go talk turkey, I want that behemoth, I deserve it, dammit." "Now you're making sense, brother...right this way...how about a cup a coffee with a slug of Jack Black mostly in it?" "Sounds good to me." And thus another sucker has gone way over his or her head--on credit--hell, you don't pay interest for a whole year! But then when you do have to pay interest, you'll find another loan listed on your bill--they loaned you the money to pay the interest for the year--now you owe them interest on the interest you didn't have to pay for a year. It's all in the fine print, which no one reads or even has time to read, myself included. One sport I now indulge in is when watching all the pharma ads on TV, I try and read as quickly as possible the warnings and prescription info they print out on screen in what for TV is fine print at the end of these commercials. It looks like 6-point type it's so small--and trying to read it takes a superman effort--as fast as a speeding bullet and still you can't really read it. Also accident-chasing lawyers on TV--the fine print at the end of their spiels--amazingly complicated. I was speed reading one last night for a Goldwater law firm it said, and then in the fine print I saw, YES, it was the Arizona Goldwaters. The law firm was a member of the Arizona bar and their offices were in Phoenix, and it was one of Barry's grandsons, I assumed--remember Barry Goldwasser who became Goldwater and who used to dress up in Native American costumes and dance around wah-wah-wah-wahooing in a special room in his home? But you have to read fast--and how many of us don't even know how to read slow.
I've been checking out Twitter. Twitter tells me the new generation isn't interested in reading long essays, speeches, or texts. They are not interested in dilly-dallying around with too many words--long sentences being a thing of the past; complicated texts being ignored in favor of the short and sweet. "What are you doing?" is the Twitter brand tag--that's all people on Twitter want to know. So you type into your Twitter space: "Today, I reading my mechanistic poetry at Louie's Range House at 25th-Grandee Sts, at 4 PM. Admission is a 'Bottle of Beer and Pack of Cigarettes'"--$10 a pack now down in the Big Apple--beers $7.00 a bottle in bars down there--though they're still $3.35 a bottle over at Ten-Ton Hoover's out at the north end of the lake--and, whew, I just caught a whiff of the lake coming in my west window. Almost made me gag. It's like a combination of illegally disposed dead animal flesh mixed with rotting fish and feces; it oozes up greenish out of our fetid lake. Still it's nature so you endure it. I'm sure the Lake Flaccid sewage system drains into the lake. You know, I've lived here all these years and I've never noticed where our sewage goes. I don't want to check that out, thank you. I do swim in Lake Flaccid. What the hey; the water near my cabin is fairly OK, though, yes, an occasional dead fish floats up--a turtle on its back the other day--and, yes, I do sometimes find medical waste out there, but, hey, I'm lucky, most of the time the water that laps up onto my beachfront is fairly clean--though the odor blows across it--I suspect there is a garbage and sewage stream out in the middle of the lake--flowing out of the lake into Saranac Lake. You don't say Lake Saranac, but you do say Lake Placcid...or Lake Flaccid.
Here's a brief couple of paragraphs from my book on Cecil the Dog-faced Boy III:
"One night, after a phone call from Cecil inviting me over for a bit of tawny port he'd just gotten in from Portugal, I got brave and asked some curious questions of my canine-homo-sapien friend, while sitting in front of the big log cabin's big fireplace with the big logs burning at a Hadean pace in it--a steady stream of pine smoke pouring from the big house as you approached it up the long driveway leading up from the closed property's main gate. Cecil was in a good mood that night, jolly, getting a little looped from the port, which he not only was doling out with liberality but also conspicuously consuming. 'I got to drinking port because of this Brazilian woman I met while in Brazil with my grand-dad.' 'Sorry to interrupt you, Cecil, but I've never heard you say much about your dad...was he...er-ah, like you and your grandfather?' 'My dad was hit by a car down in Florida.' 'I'm sorry to hear that. Is he still alive.' 'No...of course not, he was hit by a car, run over, run over like a common cur.' 'And your mother?' 'You're getting too personal, Barabbas, my friend. My mother went insane after I was born--they mistakenly took her to a dog and cat hospital--embarrassing to say the least for my grandfather, who was taking care of her and me after my dad was killed.' What a life, I was thinking. I was trying to imagine being a man but looking so much more like a dog...what that would be like. I suppose I then understood why Cecil insisted on wearing his custom-made--very fine quality material--hood when in public, in which he wasn't much at all--only when he'd take his Rolls out for a spin. I still have not seen Cecil with his hood off. I knew for sure by my third visit that I was his only friend in Lake Flaccid and maybe in the whole world. 'Do you have any brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles?' 'Not that I know of. My granddad only had my father; and my father only had me.' 'Was your granddad the first?' 'Dog-faced Boy, you mean?' 'Yes.' 'Yes, he was. His father and mother were perfectly normal and when they had granddad, they decided right then and there never to have any more kids...here, I have a photo of them...excuse me, let me get it....' And off he went loping across the big all-wood-panelled, dark oaks, shiny maples, beautiful to the eyes, room. I hadn't noticed really but there was music playing on Cecil's stereo system--opera!"
How's that. Interesting? I don't know. It's a rare opportunity for me--like Leslie Fielder made a living off his book on freaks, why not I make a little extra income off my new pal, Cecil, the only living Dog-faced Boy that I know of, and I've checked on the Internet. I did, however, come across a blog dedicated to Jo-Jo, the Human Skye Terrier.
Wow, I wonder if Cecil looks like that? I've gathered from his clues that he more resembles a Pekingese. Jo-Jo doesn't look that frightening to me; of course, I can't see him from a child's or a young girl's point of view.
I'm a member of the The Daily Growler staff because I agreed to take over the "Jots & Tittles" posts--I think Harris the Intellectual Pot Dealer was doing it before I! Who cares?
Anyway, he you go, today's "JOTS & TITTIES"!
--Obama has picked the nutjob Mormon Repugnican Governor of Mormon-believing Utah as his ambassador to China. The Mormon governor speaks fluent Mandarin, according to those who know him, because he was once a Mormon missionary to Taiwan. Wow, that makes him qualified to be ambassador, representing you and I, to the ruling Capitalist country in the world right now, Communist China. We are shaking our heads as Obama keeps proving more and more how he's more a Repugnican than he is a Dumbocrat--and it pains me to say that. thegrowlingwolf, I noticed from day-before-yesterday's post, is calling our president a "Jive Ass Turkey." I hope he's wrong, but then, Obama's openly acting more and more on the serious side of what's going on in the District of Corruption like a Neo-Con. Well, afterall, he said he admired Reagan for Reaganomics...and in his book he admits he looks up to Wall Street big shots and respects their economics--economics not being Obama's long suit. Also, Obama is reinstituting the military tribunals at Guantanamo, breaking another campaign promise. It is sad. And still people have faith in this guy. Up here in Lake Flaccid, progressive people are still defending him.
--Michelangelo could not read Latin.
--A new word: "Weisure"--work and leisure combined! Nobody I know ever had a job on which they worked leisurely and relaxed with not a job worry in the world.
--Disturbed Doctors--disturbed doctors are said to be doctors so frustrated by our current healthcare system they are taking their frustrations out on their patients.
--Eddie Vetter sings Dylan's "Masters of War" in a new movie honoring Woody Guthrie--is that right? It's awful. I heard him singing it on the radio. Awful. Like Elvis Costello trying to sing jazz. God awful. Like Barbara Cartland's writing, it's terrible.
--The Sands is opening a gambling casino in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Now the Star of Bethlehem shines over the stables behind this new god-awful ugly building rising up out of the Amish fields surrounding Bethlehem, where they used to have a famous Bach Festival every year...alas, change has come to Bethlehem. My question is, who still has bucks enough to gamble at these crooked casinos?--and, oh yes, folks, these casinos are still as crooked as they were when the Mafia ran them--and who says the Mafia still doesn't run them? This could be a Native American gambling house--and how cool is it that Native Americans are now ripping billions off their sucker Great-White-Father oppressors, selling them tax-free cigarettes and then taking all the rest of their bucks at their gaming tables and slots--all rigged in favor of the house, you betcha!
--Ben Stein, the now old and pot-bellied character actor, introduces himself in a commercial with the brilliantly intellectual Shaq O'Neal as an Economist! Come on, Ben! Shaq knows more about economics than you. Hell, he's richer than you to boot!
--Little Steven (a has-been rocker who is now known as Steven Van Zandt) says the band The Woggles are playing the "coolest new music in the world today." Wow. I haven't listened to The Woggles but I can imagine the kind of programmed and designed music they play--even though I've never heard them. If Little Steven likes them, how awful can they be?
--Esoteric Agenda--I watched as many parts of it as I could. It is weirdly intriguing. And yes I understand its viewpoint--it is a very Native American viewpoint--I'm a woodsman in a locale that once belonged to the great Mohawk and Algonquin nations (not tribes), from the Hudson River Valley all the way up into Ontario, Canada, where they once battled the Canadian Mounties over their right to have a gambling casino up in the Niagara Falls area. Now there are casinos all over the place at the Falls. Gambling and winning is some people's only hope at salvation.
I do have some questions about this Esoteric Agenda--though I've heard about the Illuminati--didn't that crazy science-fiction writer, Robert Anton Wilson, write a whole strange book on it? Maybe I'm full of it on that statement, though I do know he was into "illuminating." Reminds me of the Rosicrucian sect in California. Or the Zarathustrans and their worship of Magda, the light bulb god. Edison called the first light bulb a Magda.
I have questions about Esoteric Agenda's basing its doomsday prediction on the Zodiac (astrology)--the fact that the Zodiac is changed by a traumatic earth event every 12,000 years(?)--the next phase due in December of 2012. First of all, I was also taught the ancient Zodiac was based on faulty (incomplete) skies--constellations not yet known, with stars not yet known, with novae not yet born or exploded. I was taught the Zodiac depended on a consistent universe, a stand-still sky--astrologers even unaware that the earth was round and sailing (orbiting) around the sun. Yes, though, I did agree with the overall premise of the movie. Yes, I agreed we are conditioned by symbols and myths surrounding those semiotic representations we humans impose on the rest of the animal and natural world. And yes I agree with the premise of the movie that modern thinking is based on ancient religious practices--paganism being the "true" religion, the religion that has gotten us mythologically (symbolically) where we are today. Catholicism is certainly a pagan religion based on the worship of the Sun (gold), which was the prevalent religion in the very ancient world. The Sun of God. Where I sort of vere off from this movie is in its trying to make logical a Big Daddy that is our creator. This movie doesn't recognize Chaos; nor does it give any credit to accident and evolution being the earth's designer--the Big Bang its creator.
I do however know something about Freemasonry and its history--and I do know Freemasonry was very big in this country--a man named Albert Pike--down in Arkansas of all places--a Mason mastermind--and that George Washington was a Mason. I had a cousin who was a Mason. He would never talk about what the hell their secret vows were leading them toward, though he did tell me about the ceremonies and how they were based on ancient Egyptian texts--I kept thinking about The Book of the Dead and how Death to the Egyptians was a privilege--a reward, a means of getting to the Next World, the Nether World--that place where the dead hangout waiting for an invitation to either Heaven or Hell. Of course, "the Heavens" is where the concept of Heaven came from. Still, this movie does make you tie things together--and, yes, that symbol on the back of our US dollar bills is a pagan symbol--right out of freemasonry Egypt--institutions set up by the ancient power elites of that ancient world. Ironic, too, that the The Daily Growler Nutjob Hall of Fame preacher, Jack Van Impe (introduced to us by The Daily Growler several posts ago) bases his "second coming of Jesus" on the material found in this movie--Jack Van Impe says Jesus will call Christians home to glory on December 12, 2012. He at first said Jesus was coming back in 2009--the year he predicted a nuclear war--but then he must have seen this movie, for now he's basing his facts on 2012 as the year Christians will disappear from the face of the earth. Jack Van Impe mentions the Bilderburgs as the Devil's Old Boys Club on earth, headed by Henry Kissinger, meeting next in Greece--their meetings are so secret not even their members know for sure who are members or not. The movie also mentions the famous Bohemian Grove Power Elites who meet every year out in San Francisco. Oh how religions have fucked us up. Didn't Karl Marx tell us that, what, 150 years ago now? The opiate of the people. And the opiate is sure working nowadays.
--Ezra Pound loved what he called "luminous moments." Roland Kirk called them "bright moments"--but he was blind, and blind people see light and colors differently than we who can see.
--Chinese believe evil spirits travel in straight lines. Could that be a reason for mazes in front of castles and stuff and one reason besides engineering feats the Great Wall of China rambles like a snake?
--Shopping--I've noticed magazine articles or TV shows on shopping are always related to women.
--Have you heard that Obama is seriously considering putting a non-lawyer on the Supreme Court?--Oprah Winfrey maybe? Or how about Arnold Schwartzenegger? I truly hope, though, no, I don't believe in hope, he doesn't pick a rightwinger, though I won't be surprised when he does. How about John McCain? I think Obama thinks he owes something to McCain. Or, hell, how about Chelsea Clinton! I'm sure Bill Clinton, who seems to have pretty good control of Obama, would love that? Or how about Gennifer Flowers for the Supreme Court? She couldn't be any worse than Tony Scalia, Dumb Tony! He's the guy who after his Supreme Court illegally decided G.W. Bush was our new president in 2000 (after Brother Jeb had stolen the election for his dimwitted brother) said the Supreme Count decision wasn't political and for "folks" to get over it! Scalia also believes fetuses should given a chance at life so that they can grow up and be sacrificed on the many blood-sacrifice altars of the Pentagon (isn't a Pentagon a Devil symbol?)--an institution that truly believes it is invincible and totally in control of wherever it ruins a society.
--Here's a list of What to Sell on Television to Get Rich:
1) Crucifixes--the weirder the better. The current one selling for $19.95 is a crystal cross with a bubble center that when looked through reveals "The Lord's Prayer," you know it, "Yay, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death I will fear no evil...." It's got "fear" in it--the Valley of the Shadow of Death in it, too--you see the eclipse of the Sun symbolizes what the Shadow of Death looks like. Am I giving out esoteric agendas here? Hey, these crystal (rock) crucifixes cost about 50 cents a piece to make in Commie China--where children are jewelers--another 50 cents a piece to ship them over here and say another $1.00 a piece for TV time, where you sell them for $19.99 a piece--you sell 100,000 of them and you've made a million bucks most of which is profit.
2) Exercise Machines--it doesn't matter how simple and flimsy or humungeous and edificially these machines are--they sell like hot cakes on TV. Jack LaLanne started the trend with his Glamor Stretcher, a king-size rubberband-like object, back in the 1950s when Jack was the TV exercise guru--a man who once said on his show that the hamburger was the perfect food--with all the essentials, bread, meat, salad, and condiments. Jack LaLanne never mentioned juicing back in those days. Do you know how many pounds of veggies and fruit you'd have to cart home to juice every day? I buy a juice drink down at Carl Mule's Roadside Health Drink stand--$4.66 Carl charges me for it--he puts about 7 big carrots in it, a whole beet, two apples, some orange juice and ginger--I mean he juices tons of fruit and veggies for one drink.
Has-been TV actress Suzanne Somers made a million bucks off her Glamor Stretcher-like rubber device she called a "Thighmaster," which was jokingly called the "Buttmaster" since Suzanne advertised it that way. Suzanne's career was hitting the skids until she posed nude for Hugh Heffner--an old creep who is still kicking at 88. He probably used Suzanne Somers as his personal buttmaster during her nude shootings (they were so respectful of her).
Currently there are at least 10 different exercise machine infomercials running on cheap channel TV.
3) Vacuum Cleaners & Air Fresheners--old Dave Oreck has the current market pretty well sewn up though he's occasionally challenged by a Brit dude whose vacuum cleaner looks like the futuristic cars Frank Lloyd Wright designed for his utopian city.
4) Mixing & Chopping Devices--no matter how tinny or Chinese-made-looking or no matter how superslick and titanium silver they look, mixers and choppers can make you rich on TV. Ron Popiel introduced his Veg-O-Matic (a chopper and slicer) back in those ancient 50s and then in the 80s, that dear sweet lady started selling a hand-held mixer she called The Daily. Actually, I've been told these hand-held mixers are pretty good and handy. Currently many mixers and chopping devices are for sale on TV. One of my favorites is the truly cheap-plastic-looking thing a Brit sells on its infomercial called the Magic Bullet (no, it's not a cure for syphilis, though the Brit dude may claim it cures syphilis during his spiel). The crowd gathered around this Brit guy while he's demonstrating this cheap piece of crap is interesting, too--one is an old actress who sits through the whole 30-minute spiel with a cigarette dangling out of her mouth--really rather comedic if you can stand to watch it at all.
5) George Foreman-type Grills--my favorite huckster here is Kathy Mitchell--everybody's mom. She sells what is called the XPress GP 1000 (sic) grill; a machine she says she helped design. It's a tiny tiny grill that big jolly Kathy tries to make look able to cook full meals in a matter of minutes--yeah, maybe you can cook a full meal in them if you own say 15 of these things. I mean, they're so tiny, plus the food Kathy cooks in her little grillers looks terribly fattening, and Kathy and her dupe-male shill partner, he's so dumb he's charming, look like they've dived pretty deep into a trans-fat-laced pool of goodies quit a bit--they are chunky to say the least. George Foreman certainly made a double fortune off these little grills that can set you back $100 bucks or so, or as these infomercials put it, "Three easy payments of $33.95, plus shipping & handling & taxes" (who knows?)...BUT, "if you hurry and call within the next 15 minutes (15 minutes lasts a lifetime on these commercials), we'll make one payment for you" (oh how sweet!) which means your tiny Kathy Mitchell XPress 1000 grill will end up costing you around $75--including shipping and handling and taxes, you understand. How much does it cost to make them in Commie China? Probably around $1.00 a piece. If Kathy's only able to sell 100,000 of these at 75 bucks each, 750,000 bucks, and that's mostly profit. TV allows these infomercials to run on a consignment basis--so much an hour for time plus a portion of the profits if the objects sells well. Like auctions charge you buyers and sellers fees.
6) There are other examples, but I'm running out of post time--the Preakness is today--but you can get rich on TV by selling superfast-working weight-loss placebos; vitamin compounds made with coral from Okinawa (one infomercial says this is the purist coral in the world) or special minerals from Iceland! I love the obsolete-looking guy who sells a colon-cleansing treatment. He looks like his colon cleaned him out--though he's making a fortune selling his colon-cleansing treatment--probably some Miramax industrial-strength laxative (or maybe some baby lactose the old coke dealers used to cut their coke with--it gave cokeheads the shits) mixed with Ex-Lax chocolate and a dash of Epsom salts. That ought to clean out the most clogged colon on record. I wonder if the Guiness Book of World Records has a record for the worst constipation. Put a copy of Screamin' Jay Hawkins's "Constipation Blues" on the turntable and settle down while your colon's being slush-washed clean as a whistle by this slim dude's colon cleanser. Hot air convection cookers sell well, too. Get Rich Quick schemes and No-Down-Payment Real Estate schemes still sucker in folks by the thousands on TV. Litigation attorneys, too, advertise big time on TV. Also newly formed loan shark companies that are saying they can cut your credit card payments down to almost nothing or they can refinance your foreclosed-on home--or they'll buy your house from you if you're an old fuck. Yep, the hucksters are doing quite well on TV. People are such easily duped schmucks.
--In a Prego highly sodiumed spaghetti sauce commercial it said, "Winner of the blind taste test." I pondered on that a minute or two. First of all, a blind taste test? Second of all, what the hell is a blind taste test? I know what they mean, but this wording--it sort of excuses itself from belief.
--Arizona State U refused to give Obama a Honorary Doctorate by saying he hadn't been President long enough to have done anything yet to deserve an Honorary degree from Arizona State, a desert, rattlesnake-infected campus at one time, never known much for its intellectualism or progressive teachings. When ASU students were interviewed about this decision not to give Obama a phony degree, they agreed with the administration that Obama hadn't been president long enough to deserve any kind of honorary anything. When ask if George Washington would have deserved the degree, they said, oh hell yes. How about Tom Jefferson? Hell yes, they answered. Well, how about President Ben Franklin? All but one said, Hell yes and the one who didn't say Hell yeah said, "Benjamin Franklin wasn't ever President, was he?" Still, they said president or not he deserved an honorary doctorate. The last president the ASU students said unanimously should have an honorary doctorate from ASU was Alexander Hamilton, and I certainly concur with that president's being in need of an honorary doctorate--after all he did as president! An ASU grad?: how about Reggie Jackson. ASU always had a good baseball team.
And that's enough Jots & Tittles for one sitting. Jesus, this is fucking preponderous! quoting Casey Kasem, a good Persian.
So long for now from smelly old Lake Flaccid, New York, where the PCB-laced fish are biting any hook with glee these days--rescuing them from the lake via hook is salvation to them. Besides, when you eat them, they get their revenge.
for The Saturday Evening Post The Daily Growler