Being a bass guitarist is like being the invisible man of the band. The guitarists get all the attention, the drummers get all the women, and you get the bar tab. Bassists seem to compensate for this in several ways. Some jump all around in an attempt to be noticed (see Flea), some retreat even further into the shadows (see Entwistle), and some overplay (see me).
But do you know something? Without the bass line, the song falls apart. The rhythm stops. The guitar noodling with no sub-strata to hold it up just sounds like some guy practicing scales, and the kick drum sounds like a petulant ex kicking the door to be let in.
And if your removal from the band’s sound doesn’t do this, you’re not doing your part as a bassist. Your contribution has to be just that – a contribution. Not a drone or a kick drum with a note attached to it, but an integral part of the sound.
If it’s not, you may as well just sell your shit and buy a motorcycle.
Oh – and while we’re at it – I’d like to introduce you to “The Fantastic Four” :
And, of course – “Rigzilla”…
“SUNN – when you absolutely have to destroy everyone in the room with low end”.
Here we go with my first non-Freeperati post, people.
The first reader to reply on what my first non-political post on First Draft should be, said this:
“I’ve always enjoyed the reminiscences of the days as an itinerant musician and recording engineer, having some tangential connection to folks in those professions.”
Well, I’m going to start out with my bass guitar stuff, and expand from there – so – it’s The bass guitar and me :
Ok – surprisingly enough, other bassists actually ask me how I started and how I developed my style/sound (some people are easily entertained). Here goes:
When I started, it was the era of Cream and Led Zeppelin.
Unfortunately, it was also the era of Grand Funk railroad.
My earliest bass sound was that of a tonal dinosaur fart. Part of this was due to the rudimentary nature of my rig, but part of it was due to the attraction of how a combination of playing with my fingers and mucho low-end and distortion sounded. I mean, you just couldn’t play a wrong note. As least, no one could hear it. It wasn’t even a prerequisite to be in the right key.
So, I blundered and thundered along for years, secure in my ability to perform as a rhythm instrument without having to worry about pesky details like being in tune and knowing all the chord changes. Then a tech at Ray Hennig’s Heart Of Texas Music (in the original Waco location) invited me over to his house. He had a incredible Altec Valencia sound system, and said “So you like to play bass, do you?”, and put on The Yes Album.
Everything changed. All the percussion of the bass was still there, but you could hear every note being played. And it was awesome. I determined to have this sound for my very own.
I tried this and that, boosting the treble, lowering the bass, starting to play with a pick (at first, just for Deep Purple covers – how’s that for irony?), but I knew I had to have that bass. That Rickenbacker bass. This HAD to be the key. So I finally got one.
This is the time as I always describe as “wanting to sell my crap and buy a motorcycle”. Because I could really really hear myself for the first time.
And I sucked.
I was sloppy, rushing, dragging, misfretting – this was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I almost quit.
But instead, I got mad. I started forcing myself to unlearn every old bad habit, and before very long at all, I was actually playing like someone who knows how. Buying that bass did more to improve my playing in one year than the preceding 5.
So – it was all about hearing what I was actually doing, rather than what I heard myself doing in my head.
Hi, people. One of our readers advised me to take a short mental health break from Freeperville, so I decided to post about something marginally less sad – pets who have passed on. So – let tribute time begin!
I’d like to start with Sunny and Kingsford, who were fast friends from the day they met. Sunny was one of those kittehs who thinks they’re a dog (and everyone who comes in the front door obviously did so just to pet him). He loved rubbing against your legs, especially when you were on the can. Kingsford was the charcoal-coloured polar opposite – the kind who would sit behind the back edge of the couch, and take a swipe at you as you passed. I picked him out of a litter that a friend brought over, because while his litter mates were hanging around in front of the records (remember records?) mewing, he was on top of the records taking swipes at them as they passed by underneath.
Here’s the not-so-dynamic duo. Sunny would get in the straw basket, and Kingsford would squeeze in next to Sunny and go to sleep :
Sunny succumbed to an infection, and Kingsford, ever the escape artist, sneaked out an unclosed door one day and never came back.
I also had a Bulldog mix called B.J. He loved to lie down with his nose in my shoes just so he could smell me all the time.
Cancer took BJ about 15 years ago.
When Barbara moved in with me, she brought a hound named “Moe” (for “more dog”). He had been looking for a father figure, apparently, and was just happy to have a man to pet him. I’d be at my computer, when a wet nose and furry muzzle would nudge under my left hand, and suddenly I’d be petting Mo Doggie.
He left us around 12 years ago.
Barbara also brought her cat, “Precious Kitty”. She WAS precious, ultra feminine, and carried her poofy tail over her head like a parasol.
Precious made it to the very old age of 16, and was always the mistress of the house.
And that brings us to Bailey Bulldog. He was a surrender from a family that didn’t want to take him in after their Dad died.
He came to us housebroken, leash and crate trained, and he loved to back up to you for bully-butt-pets.
Bailey died in his sleep at the incredible (for a bulldog) age of 15. He was a Very Very Good Boy.
Lastly, we had Brillo. Barbara met her at a Pet Smart adoption event, and this big girl (Scottish Deerhound, mostly) went up to Barb, lay down and put her muzzle on Barbara’s leg. And that, as they say, was that. I never saw the dog, just gave my blessings to the adoption, and was driving home the day Barbara had picked her up. I was on the phone with Barbara and she said “Sweetheart – she’s not the prettiest dog….” I took a deep breath, and then replied: “OK – how ugly IS she?” The dog’s shelter name had been “Purdy”, but I took one look at her with her outer coat fringe, and said “Brillo”. And Brillo she was, from that day forward.
That ugly mutt with the beautiful heart followed Barbara everywhere she went, and would proceed Barbara when she was coming toward the living room (looking over her shoulder to make sure Barbara was still coming). I told Barbara: “That’s your herald.” Brillo was the most loving dog I’ve ever met, much less owned. She loved everyone, and everyone loved her.
We lost Brillo to lymphoma two months ago, only a month or so after we lost Precious.
So – we’re now petless for the the first time since we met, 20 + years ago. It’s tough opening doors and not seeing a doggie or kitty on the other side. We’re now of the age that a puppy or kitten might outlive us, and we wanted to do some traveling while we still can. So – no more pets.
Barbara was thinking about volunteering at a local shelter, but I know how that would turn out.
Here’s the good part. They’re not really gone. They’re right here now, on the pages of First Draft. Nothing lasts forever, but the love we give to and receive from our pets stays with us. And this is where you come in.
Now, our wonderful furry friends are all still here with all of us, because you read this post.
I’ll see you good people next Monday, with Freeper reactions to the Electoral College decision.
Saw this while cruising Freeperville for reaction to Kamala Harris’s VP pick:
I got nothing.
Actually, that’s not true – I do have one little observation to make :
A few weeks ago, I opined that Trump’s attack on the USPS would backfire on him, and in spectacular fashion.
I’d like to take this opportunity to say “I told you so”.
It’s not Pelosi’s actions in recalling the House from recess to address this transparent rat-fuckery.
It’s not the Veterans who get almost all of their medications by mail. (after all, this is a “president” who doesn’t know – or care – what a Gold Star family is)
It’s the older voters.
Voters 50 and above largely have a unique experience with our USPS delivery people.
They’re our friends.
We grew up waving to them as they pulled up to our mailboxes, and talking happily with them. They were a part of our neighbourhoods, and we treated them as such. Not as government employees, or Federal stooges, but as our friends and our neighbours – which they were.
When Reagan disemboweled the Air Traffic Controllers, few of us interacted with (or even KNEW) an ATC.
This is different.
Why does it matter so much this time?
Because we oldies not only fondly remember, we VOTE.
In large numbers.
More than any other demographic.
Keep it up, Trump – and your ship will sink even faster than it currently is.
Well, THAT was fun. There was a dead rat in the electric rat-zapper lest Tuesday, so I went out into the alley to dump him where a hawk could find him and have some breakfast. Crossing the concrete-paved alley I stepped (barefoot) into a slick spot where the night’s rain runoff was flowing, slipped and fell backwards, landing on the back of my head.
In the flowing water runoff.
Lump – yes.
Concussion – I don’t think so actually, a mild one. Gone in two days
Pain – 7 on a 10 scale.
Damned lucky I didn’t break anything.
I had to struggle to my feet as quickly as I could, because the alley has a 20 – degree down-slope, and people tear down it as they leave to go to work and wouldn’t have been able to stop on the rain-slick concrete. I would have been run over for sure if I’d lost consciousness, or just lain there and waited to recover some.
Anywhoo – a quickie.
Donald Trump’s favorite pollster puts him 12 points behind Joe BidenDaily Mail ^ | 6-15-2020 | Nikki Schwab Posted on 6/15/2020, 10:43:18 PM by ZagFan
The poll comes the same day the Biden campaign announced an impressive $81 million fundraising haul in May.
Rasmussen’s survey with Just The News found that 48 per cent of registered voters nationally liked Biden, while just 36 per cent said they’d support Trump in the November general election.
2 posted on 6/15/2020, 10:44:16 PM by EnglishOnly (eeWFight all out to win OR get out now. .)
Now RASMUSSEN is “fake news”?
This means one of two things – either Trump is headed for a Carter-like shellacking by a Reaganesque rout at the hands of Biden, or pollsters have created a very bad model of the electorate, perhaps because of the Trump’s hidden support which is hard to poll. The first alternative is somewhat more likely than the second.
What could have happened to that reliable GOP-leaning outlier provider??
Except this is not the Rasmussen poll. Scott Rasmussen sold his poll, which keeps his name and now does a new poll for an outfit called Just the News. This is a joke. Biden may well be ahead, but Trump doesn’t have 36%. An utter embarrassment for Scott Rasmussen to publish this crap.
3 posted on 6/15/2020, 10:45:47 PM by usafa92 (Donald J. Trump, 45th President of the United States of America)
What to do, what to do??
If I would be polled, I plan to lie to the pollster, and say I support Biden. Let the pollsters be shocked the night of the election.
A former health care consultant pleaded guilty today to mail fraud and tax evasion relating to her scheme to be employed under false pretenses as a highly paid health care consultant, announced Principal Deputy Assistant Attorney General Richard E. Zuckerman of the Justice Department’s Tax Division.
According to court documents and statements made in court, Sonja Emery, using several aliases including “Sonja Lee Robinson,” “Sonjalee Emery-Robinson,” and “Sonjalee Emery,” resided in Georgia, New Jersey, New York, and California. From 2011 through 2018, Emery falsely represented her professional status, educational background, and work experience to secure and maintain highly paid consulting positions in the health-care industry. She falsely claimed to have a nursing diploma from a school she never attended. She also falsely claimed to be a Registered Nurse licensed in New York, Georgia, Connecticut, and California and provided employers with licensure numbers that belonged to other people. In fact she never was a Registered Nurse. Emery also falsely told employers she had a Bachelor of Science in Nursing, a Master of Health Administration, a Master in Business Administration, and a Doctor of Philosophy from Emory University and New York University, but Emery never attended those schools or received these degrees.
As a result of these lies, from 2012 through 2018, Emery secured high-level health-care positions. She worked as a Senior Vice President for an Ann Arbor, Michigan healthcare consulting firm earning an annual salary of approximately $285,000; as a consultant for a community health system in Wisconsin earning approximately $267,000; and as a health care consultant for a Massachusetts company that paid her approximately $226,000. From 2015 until her arrest in May of 2018, Emery worked as a senior executive for a county government health services agency in California that paid her a total of approximately $960,000.
During these years, Emery either did not file or late-filed tax returns, despite owing more than $400,000 in taxes. She sought to avoid being detected by providing employers with different names and false social security numbers, by falsely instructing employers that she was “exempt” from taxes, and by supplying an employer with an identification number that did not belong to her.
U.S. District Judge Linda V. Parker scheduled sentencing for June 17, 2020. At sentencing, Emery faces a statutory maximum sentence of 20 years in prison for mail fraud and five years in prison for tax evasion. Emery also faces a period of supervised release, restitution, and monetary penalties.
As for myself, due to my Neurosurgeon refusing to do my spinal surgery without an OK from my Cardiologist, and my Cardiologist not being able to schedule a nuclear stress test until after my scheduled surgery date of February 13th, my laminectomy/discectomy/foramina-whatever-ectomy, has now been rescheduled for March 6th.
A week after that, I should be back in the saddle (able to sit at my chair in front of the PC for more than 15 minutes) again. and looking forward to ploughing through the Freeperati backlog and picking only choicest juicy chunks of fresh Freeper ram’s bladder, emptied, steamed, flavored with sesame seeds whipped into a fondue and garnished with lark’s vomit.
Ok, people – going to be MIA for at least a couple of weeks. Pre-op meeting this morning, and my back surgery is the 13th. It should go well – my neurosurgeon is probably the best in the DFW area, and we have some good ones here.
I was able to sit in front of the computer long enough to look at this, though (in a thread about JZ and Beyonce sitting during the national anthem) :
Wonder what they thought when Jennifer Lopez whipped out a flag for her dance routine.
Followed by a Trump commercial for Bounty paper towels?
To: Blue Highway
Disgusting and half their songs were sung in Spanish. This happens to be America and America’s sport is football. The whole show was disgusting. I thought women weren’t supposed to objectify themselves these days.
Not much of a post this week, I’m afraid. Lower back nerve issues are intensifying, and after getting an MRI to determine what they’re going to have to cut out of my spine, I just found out my neurosurgeon is no longer in my insurance network. While I frantically try to find a new one, I’m trying to strike a balance between taking so much pain medication I can’t make coherent sentences (like I ever did, anyway), and shrieking like a demon at unpredictable moments and scaring the P-waddly-shit out of Barbara.
Turning over while asleep also produces interesting and startling results.
This is one issue of note in Freeperville however:
Just got a thread pulled and the reason the moderator stated was “the usual”. The posting was from The NY Post today about a woman who was having a seizure and got mauled to death by the family dog. Not sure why this isn’t news worthy or has to be censured. I made no comment just posted the artcle. Has FREERepublic also caught the snowflake disease where we cannot discuss bona fide news in a respectful manner so the conversation needs to be shutdown? I respect Free Republic is fully within its rights to shutdown or reject a posting for any reason but is this really how this should have been dealt with?
3 posted on 12/22/2019, 1:50:26 PM by ronniesgal (so I wonder what his FR handle is????)
And then – something I was not quite ready for :
further evidence we’re witnessing the slow-slow quick death of Free Republic. FR offered a fresh perspective on American news in the 1990’s and 2000’s, and an abundance of articulate, well written conservative posters. Today it’s become a pit stop for self-promoting bloggers, and the remaining handful of old timers (moderators) who can’t grasp what’s happening among the right side of news portal websites. The Liberty Daily, Citizen Free Press, and Dan Bongino seem to be attracting lots of newer, younger supporters to their sites, but we see nothing like that at FR. The original posters frustration is just one cause of this, and asking the fewer and fewer that still come here for 90 thousand in donations every 90 days is another.
I used to own a half-duplex, with a sidewalk that passed by the guest bedroom window. One Halloween, I wanted to do something other than just hand out candy, and (being allergic to decorating) I decided to set up a scary surprise.
I plugged my 400W bass head into one of my 2X15 cabinets, and set my Yamaha SPX90 effects processor on top of the head, then plugged a SM57 mike into the processor and set the processor to pitch-shift.
OK – let’s try this thing out. I dropped the pitch by one full octave and did a death-metal guttural pronouncement into the mike.
Cool, but too low-frequency to make out the words.
I adjusted the pitch up to only a half-octave down.
Now, I pushed the 2X15 cabinet up to the inside of the sidewalk-facing window, and opened the window, leaving the blinds down/closed, and waited.
I had turned the amp volume up to three or four, and if I made a low growl, it actually sounded like an irritated lion. I sat in the darkened bedroom and waited.
The first group of twilight trick-or-treaters came up the walk. I held silence and let them pass by on their way to the porch.
My then-wife handed out candy to all, and told them all to be careful leaving, and to watch out for the Candy Troll.
They came back down the sidewalk past the window, and I roared “GIVE ME YOUR CANDY !!!!”
It was probably in excess of 110db, and sounded like Satan having a really bad day. They were possibly three feet from the bass cabinet inside the window.
The candy went everywhere, the kids screamed, and my then-wife rushed out (possibly to comfort them?), and one of the little boys turned to her and said:
“This is the best Halloween house EVER!!”
I also had the added bonus of low candy costs, since I was able to retrieve so much candy from the sidewalk after each group scattered.
OK, people – making good on my promise to take a week off.
It’s a running gag that I don an ISO suit before I plunge into Freeperville, but in truth, there is no ISO suit and no protection. I have to read hundreds and hundreds of posts to choose what to post here, and there’s no insulation from the stupidity, the hatred, the vicious brain-dead rantings of the Freeperati.
Then, after I’ve read the dozens of threads and hundreds upon hundreds of odious posts, I have to go back through them again to pick the stinkers I’m going to quote, and place them in some kind of order in my post. Like reading that shit once isn’t enough. Sometimes I put my Monday post together early Friday morning, and sometimes I put it off until the last minute because I just can’t deal with the world-class stupidity. Then I go and beat the dog, .and finish off by downing a bottle of bleach.
If evil had a smell, the evil I rub up against in Free Republic on a weekly basis would lead my home to be declared a hazardous waste site, condemned, torn down, and salt poured over the land on which it once stood.
So – no post this week – and we’ll see how I’m feeling by next weekend.
No post this week, good people. Dallas has been one big lightning /thunderstorm for the last three days, and I don’t feel like losing another hard drive, so my computer’s been mostly off for that time.
Also, I’ve been in Facebook jail for a week. Let me tell you why.
I replied to a disgusting anti-gay post in the Open Fire Facebook forum that showed a rainbow hand reaching for a cowering child, saying that it reminded me of the infamous Nazi poster of the finger pointing at “Das Juden”.
I replied to my comment with a pic of the aforementioned poster, and my account was instantly suspended.
Facebook algorithms instantly disabled my account, and in the “tell us why this action by us was buttfuck stupid” response,
To help keep Facebook safe, we sometimes block certain content and actions. If you think we’ve made a mistake, please let us know. While we aren’t able to review individual reports, the feedback you provide will help us improve the ways we keep Facebook safe.
Please explain why you think this was an error
“This was my response to an anti-gay post on a political forum that showed a rainbow hand reaching for a cowering child. I compared the anti-gay post to the notorious “Das Juden” Nazi poster, and posted a pic of the poster . Comparing another poster’s meme to a Nazi poster does NOT make me a Nazi. This infamous poster is viewable at any Holocaust history site on Facebook. Next time, try actually reading the thread.”
It is interesting that the same pic of the Nazi poster is viewable on over a dozen Holocaust remembrance pages, but I guess theirs is ok.
Facebook’s response to my response (that they asked for) ?
Zuck you, Fuckerberg.
See you good people next week, if I don’t stroke out in the interim.
Having horrible back/neck issues – so a blast from the past for you, since the never-ending Freepathon is back up and running. Hopefully I’ll be back next Monday.
Today’s Obsession is about an ex-Freeper – someone who was there for six long years.
Then, she got sick. Really sick. Is-she-ever-going-to-leave-the-hospital sick.
A good friend set up a Paypal donation account and freepmailed fellow Freepers with the info. Many helped. After several hospitalizations, Mestamachine put a link to the account in her FR profile info.
Alas, on Free Republic, only Jim Rob gets to rake in the ducats, and he pulled her login and posting privileges (not an outright zot, her profile still remains, like a disembodied spirit). That’ll teach her to need help.
Now she just lurks and fumes, continuing to watch long-time supporters get banned. Of course, the ranks of the purged include many not-completely-crazies who dared interject some sanity into the knee-jerkiness. Unfortunately for Jim Rob, many (if not most) of these zot-ees were heavy monetary contributors, leaving FR now composed of mostly crap-talkers who never kick in.
Now – why should you care that a known sociopath like Jim Rob turned on one of FR’s most devoted? Is this a “OMG! The sun goes down in the West!” kind of revelation? Glad you asked.
You should care because the FR grift goes a lot deeper than just the Freepathon bucks. A lot.
I have been watching this Freepathon and watching the donations as they come in from people who can scarcely afford it apologizing that they can’t donate more than maybe $3.00 and it is heartbreaking, sad, and sickening.
How many of those who sent in $3.00 have the kind of bling shown in the pic of JimRob, a quarter inch wide, 18-20 inch long white and yellow gold rope chain…while THEY are deciding which prescriptions they can forgo because the copays are so high?
He says Free Republic is beholden to no one, but that is a lie.
Jim Robinson drives a fully rigged, customized van that was, or will soon be, customized even further to accommodate his new disability, (and I don’t begrudge him that,) but to say that FR is beholden to no one when it is truly beholden to everyone whose hard work and many, many contributions paid for everything he has while trying to scare people into donating what they don’t have so he can have even more of what they don’t is disingenuous at best.
He takes in $340,000 per year just from FR. That does not include Social Security or any pension he might receive. That also does not include other entities running off FR’s servers which pay him for space. He also employs Google Analytics which, unless it is the free version, costs a MINIMUM of $50,000 per year so he knows where anyone who visits FR comes from and goes, where they spend their money and how much, what other sites they visit and when 24/7. In other words, YOU pay to have yourself followed by a corporation that takes every single bit of your personal information and uses it to profit themselves, gives it over to fed.gov upon demand, and though Jim KNOWS this, he uses it anyway so HE knows who you are and where you’ve been, consequences be damned.
Anyone and everyone who has ever had personal dealings with Jim Robinson with very few exceptions has been shafted BY Jim Robinson in one way or another.
And how does he repay Freeper loyalty? Well, unless you are a bonafide member of his CURRENT inner sanctum, you can expect not one iota of reciprocated loyalty from Mr. Robinson as he has proven time and again over many years.
Fuck “the government”.
He’s selling that data. To the GOP, to advertisers, probably to the Republican candidates that he mocks on a regular basis.
These dumb fucks are paying to get on mailing lists and have push ads on other sites target them.
Cunning stunt, no?
For a look at the harassment and banning of one of the oldest members of Free Republic, “Badjoe” (now deceased), please read this interesting inside lookat how the pecking order (and I do mean “pecking”) and the moderator clique of Freeperville work.
It’s – enlightening.
See you people next Monday.
And Mestamachine – if you followed the links from your website here, and are reading this…
Hi all – the Barbara and I are currently defying The Darnold’s wall-eyed wishes and crossing the border into Playa Del Carmen. This is the most beautiful (but definitely not the most expensive) resort in Playacar – the Iberostar Quetzal.
Instead of paving over the jungle with concrete and marble columns, they built this place around the jungle, leaving it and its wildlife as the centrepiece.
Enjoy these pics from previous trips there – adios!
In the mid-80s, I worked at Good Vibrations Recording Studio as intern, then engineer, and then as Manager. We were a 1” 16-track studio, founded by Dallas great Charlie Pride, that did almost exclusively demos and EP releases, with a few albums and commercials thrown in.
Thanks to some very good mikes and even better engineers, we managed to siphon off some work from the big 2” 24-track studios in the area, and everyone(including the first MTV Basement Tapes winners 4 Reasons Unknown) was happy when they left with their recordings.
But – they didn’t always start the sessions happy.
First-time-in-the-studio bands are a challenge in two ways. First, the ones who think they know how sessions work by reading about other people’s sessions in magazines. Those bands are a bit of a challenge, but a little gentle guidance usually gets them to cuddle up alongside reality.
Second, the ones who place themselves in the engineer’s hands and just go for it.
For the majority of them, it was the first time they had ever heard themselves on multitrack tape. And therein lay the problem.
When you’re rehearsing with your band (or singing in the shower, for that matter), you hear things very selectively. You hear mostly yourself, largely due to the fact that you’re concentrating on your own performance.
When you hear it back during playback (especially when all tracks but yours are muted), two things can happen:
You REALLY hear yourself for the first time unselectively, and you suck. Fortunately, this is the studio, and anything (well, almost anything) can be fixed.
You really hear everyone else in the band for the first time unselectively, and one of THEM suck. This is where it can get ugly.
I have seen more bands break up in the studio over number two than I care to remember, but of course, EVERY band has one person who’s not letter-perfect, or doesn’t have that inner metronome, or sings that one note sharp or flat. The rest of the band turns on them and the session can degrade into a verbal fistfight if you let it.
Don’t let it.
As an engineer, your main duty (after getting them a good sound) is to be den mother, manager, producer, and counselor. Calm them down, get them away from each other’s throats, pause the session off the clock if need be, but do it. They’ll thank you for it when they leave with their music under their arm (or in their CD case).
Oh, and not to go all Adrastos on you or anything, but here’s the aforementioned MTV Basement Tapes winner from our studio. Pay no attention to the annoying Emulator 2 whip crack sound – that was their idea, not mine.
Wish me luck folks. Even as you’re reading this, I’m under general anesthesia while they do a thoracic intercostal nerve block to try and kill the horrible back pain I’ve been dealing with since January, when Paul Severe made his famous ambulance ride.
Won’t lie, folks – I’m more than a little burnt out. I hear that garbage collectors can go home and scrub and scrub and even burn their clothes, but the stench clings to them like a bill collector.
The stench from diving into Free Republic every week has started to cling to me to the extent that I walked down the aisle in Wally World, and fourteen thong-displaying customers fell over.
One brief thread below the “continue reading”, but first, a rant from the righteous dude The Red State Rustler which pretty much sums it all up:
“I haven’t posted lately because I’m in a bit of a funk about the sorry state of things in this twisted up, smoldering wreck of a country I used to love. Trump and his petty goon squad of hateful miscreants, buttlickers, grifters, whiners and walleyed lying liars has left me pissed off and honestly sort of paralyzed. It’s just tedious to mock this shit, over and over and over again, because the things that are happening right now are shocking and shameful and sad, not funny.
I don’t think it’s funny that every other word that spills out of Trump’s sneering hamburger hole is a lie. I don’t think it’s funny that Sarah Huckafuck wakes up every morning, spackles a human face over her true reptilian form, puts on her pearls and prepares to kick the press in the nuts again. I don’t think it’s funny that Rudy Giuliani is explaining away Trump’s crimes like he’s reading from the “Choose Your Own Adventure” book of legal strategy. (OK, I guess that’s actually kind of funny.)
The North Korea situation isn’t funny. The Israeli-Palestinian situation isn’t funny. Collusion isn’t funny. The hostilities unleashed in this country toward immigrants isn’t funny. The environmental sodomy, the tax “reform,” the healthcare horrorshow, the dumbing down of literally every federal department – not funny. The endless insults, the pot shots, the misinformation, the spin, the half truths, the none-truths and the obvious, refutable lies – none of this is fucking funny.
Not to mention that with the subtlety of an ice bucket challenge, we’ve all suddenly been forced to wake up and realize that roughly half of this country is made up of people who are either too proud to admit they’re morally bankrupt or too stupid to know what that means. It’s an ice bucket challenge for the soul of our democracy, and the outcome is still undecided.
“But we need to come together and find common ground,” they say. Sure. They can look for some up my ass.
It’s impossible to respect the other side when the other side is comprised of a frothy mix of anti-intellectuals, torch-waving nationalists and witless workaday bumpkins all controlled by a handful of string-pullers at the very top who sit on their piles of money and convince the rest of the lot to march into the voting booth in Nowheresville, Craptucky and punch themselves in their own faces until they fall down dead.
It’s really hard to capture this shit in a meme, is what I’m saying.
I’ll get back to writing jokes very soon. I’ve just needed a short break from the newspapers and the press briefings and the bonfire consuming our government. It’s depressing and exhausting, and I want Mueller to take down this bastard and his entire criminal empire so I can sleep again.
No post this week, chillens. Entire east half of my house flooded after a record 4″ in one hour rain. Entire week has been full of roaring fans and dehumidifiers. torn up carpets in my studio, and everything piled into a heap in the entry. Fourth time this has happened. Previous drainage improvements kept the water out for a week of soaking rains, but the last wave was unstoppable. Anyone have an outdoor sump pump they want to donate?
Since I can’t do this post thing on the phone, we’ll have to wait until next week, after carpet pad’s been replaced and carpet’s been re-laid and final carpet treatment/cleaning is finished and I can move everything back to where it was.