Ye Olde Scribe’s Incredible, Inedible Quote Machine
“Don’t eat it. Read it. Cause ya can’t be too chew… see.”
For example, in a Weekly Standard column titled “McCain versus the juggernaut,” neoconservative pundit William Kristol warned that an “Obama-Biden administration — working with a Democratic Congress — would mean a more debilitating nanny state at home and a weaker nation facing our enemies abroad.” It takes a deep obliviousness to reality for an ardent Bush supporter to be sounding the alarm about the “nanny state” at the same time that his beloved president and party are solicitously spoon-feeding their wailing Wall Street brat out of a $700 billion jar of Gerber’s.
This is not a “movement” that means anything that anyone can explain. As Christopher Buckley, the son of the late William F. Buckley, intellectual father of modern American conservativism, put it in a much-discussed piece in the Daily Beast announcing his support for Obama, “I no longer have any clear idea what, exactly, the modern conservative movement stands for. Eight years of ‘conservative’ government has brought us a doubled national debt, ruinous expansion of entitlement programs, bridges to nowhere, poster boy Jack Abramoff and an ill-premised, ill-waged war conducted by politicians of breathtaking arrogance. As a sideshow, it brought us a truly obscene attempt at federal intervention in the Terry Schiavo case.”
Finally… the TRUTH!
“Why did it take so ^%$#@ long for someone to say it?”
Does she have the most annoying voice ever? It’s like a dental drill combined with a band saw…
-Stephanie Miller on Appalling Palin
Anyone who claims gas prices aren’t being raised and lowered for political reasons probably works for, or is invested in, Shell, Mobil, Hess…
-A-non-E-Moose; found on the web
Ye Olde Scribe Presents: Maverick (sic) or; One Hell of a Sick Maverick
“I don’t give a %$#@! if I’m not doing it right, get that camera on me NOW, and move Joe the Plumber over there. Joe! Come on up here Joe. I know you’re out there… Joe? Joe?
“Look, John,” James Garner said, “‘Joe’ isn’t here: you screwed up again. Besides, Joe is just some fake plant made out of cheap pvc. We’ll go out and get some if it makes you happy. (McSame nods, “Yes,” Garner yells out “PROPS!” …and Rabid Rove; dressed as Wiley Coyote, goes out to get some.) Now, can we focus on your part? I played this role before and Maverick isn’t some old codger hot head; he’s smooth, clever and never wanders…”
(“Wiley” Rove is back and has quickly made a plant out of pvc.)
“Can we call him Tito the Deconstruction Worker now, or call… him… George JUNIOR, the Butcher?”
(Garner doesn’t notice at that point McSame is pointing off stage, where Junior pops out and waves…. wearing a hockey mask bloodied by all who died due to his decisions.)
“Call him whatever you want, John, he’ll still be some fake, phony, plant.”
McSame starts mindlessly wandering around the set.
“John! Hey!” (He whistles at the ole fu.)
“Sorry, James, I was looking for my dog Puddles to give him….”
(Sound of something leaking onto the studio floor and “Joe” falls apart.)
“Guldern it, John… you’re gonna give me another stroke. If you can’t stop wandering, you can’t control your temper, at least put some Depends on and then sit down. This is the card shark scene where you con everyone into thinking you’re a straight talker. Oh, stage hands? Can you lean this mess up and put ‘Joe’ back together so John will be happy?”
The Silly Savage Weiner, Dimbulb, Mucked up Malkin and Handjob Hannity, wearing Larry, Moe, Curley and Shemp masks, rush out with mops, brooms, ladders, fire hoses, shovels… it’s a typical Stooge act as they slip, fall, twist noses, bop each other. Michelle willingly takes most of the abuse with an airhead smile because that’s how Neo Thugs LIKE their women… and Michelle obviously likes attention no matter how idiot-like she acts to get it.
Meanwhile McSame is practicing his “suave” card game talk to convince players he’s not conning them.
“John, did I hear that right, you said you think we need ‘Socialism’ too? You keep fumbling and going off script. That’s NOT in the script dern it, you… wait, what’s that sucking sound, and who keeps crying out for ‘Trig?’ … Sarah, get out from underneath that table!”
“Sarah, do you even know where ‘Trig’ is?”
“Yeah, ‘Trig’ is the math course I never took because Al… gee… bra was too hard. But I do division real well.”
“Oy, is he lost AGAIN?” Garner slaps his forehead… “He’s your down syndrome kid… or someone’s…. better find him.”
“You betcha,” she says as she wipes the creamy stuff off her mouth and walks off. McSame zips up.
“And they call me, Rockford, a ‘Space Cowboy?'”
Biggus Dickus comes on stage with a shotgun and shoves the 10 shoves it into Garner’s mouth as he whispers into his ear. Garner sighs. Biggus walks off stage, smirk on face. But at the last moment the glare of the lights hits his Biggus head. Everyone shields their eyes, except The Oh, So, Silly Savage Shemp Weiner who has been watching the production, slightly off stage, wearing his Shemp mask, but dressed as if he were a very bad version of a character out of a Bram Stoker book. The Savage Shemp Weiner hisses, and then sizzles into nothingness. Why? Because he’s always been a blood sucker. Didn’t you KNOW that?
“OK, I’ve just been told you’ve been assigned a new director… the next movie ‘Maverick.’ Mel; the Jesus snuff film, Gibson has demanded we alter the script. So just say this John… say, ‘redistribution of wealth.’ If you don’t say that say, ‘socialism.’ If you don’t say that say ‘elite,’ or ‘measure the drapes,” say… John… JOHN (He’s wandering again; his arms waving like those little arms on a dinosaur. Makes sense. He IS a dinosaur, though his “stinc…t” needs to be more “ex.”) JOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHNNNNN… gul… gul… DAMN IT. See what ya did John, ya made me actually swear. Oh, what do I care, I’m outta here. Stage hands! Clean up again! (They stumble on stage, minus the now deep fried Shemp Weiner. Fried Weiner… Oh, BOY!!!) Sarah, I said stop sucking up… did you find Trig yet? What do you mean who is ‘Trig,” culsern it…. this is Republican ‘family values? …and get away from Dimbulb’s… don’t care what you want to do in 2012…”
And on, and on, the production goes: where it stops nobody knows; except certain little furry creatures. The day before election day gerbils will attempt to conquer the planet. Gerbils conquering the planet? Give Scribe a break. Under any other administration this wouldn’t even qualify as less than an amber alert. But they quickly win because Junior attacked the problem by declaring a national emergency, canceling the elections, and claiming Barack and “his people” should “go back where they belong” instead of trying to win some fixed election. Hey, if the boy-King can attack Iraq when some tall buffoon in Afghanistan supposedly attacked us… it’s just the kind of thing Junior would do; distracting us all… snatching victory from the jaws of defeat AGAIN. The gerbils win. Neos declare “Mission Accomplished:” as they always do every time Junior screws up. The gerbils drag us off; except Mike Malloy who lives in some cave with Molly and Kathy. He takes more than an occasional pot shot at the gerbils and their slave savant Neo Con soldiers. After that, the rest of us live in cages with little exercise wheels for the rest of humanity’s existence.
This is what we get for being so stupid we let ReTHUGlican’s lord over us.
On the bright side… the gerbils will eventually slaughter their worse than useless Neo Con slave savants and that nasty FOX; serving us their carcasses every Thanksgiving in captivity, stuffed with boiled balls and breasts of talking heads. YUM! Can Scribe get seconds?
Before You Take This Medication
“Warnings for consumers of Scribe-based humor.”
Patients are warned that if your funny bone is tickled more than a half an hour you read way too damn slow. If you get an erection that lasts longer than four hours… you selfish bastard. DID YOU BRING SOME FOR THE WHOLE CLASS? If you feel faint while taking this medication please use more than a number .05 pencil.: you’ll feel less “faint;” the downside being you’ll have stronger strokes. Stroke. Stroke. Heart monitor goes nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn… If you have a severe pain in the chest then maybe you shouldn’t have eaten that industrial size bucket of Atomic Wings at Quaker, Steak and Lube? If you find your balls seem smaller from this medication then find a woman with bigger lungs to blow them back up. If you find this medication mocks you, then open your ears goddamned ears: maybe you’ll learn something; Mr. O’Lielly.
I think that in the past there might have been some of that going on, but not this time.
The main reason why the price per barrel hit the stratosphere this last summer was because of speculation. Gambling, basically. Gambling with almost no regulation.
Oil speculation doesn’t require cold, hard, cash to buy oil futures. It is based on credit — if there is no credit, there is no speculation, no gambling — because the money just isn’t there.
So the price per barrel drops and continues to drop back down to the real value and not the artificial one that speculators put in place.
As far as the previous drops in prices at the pumps, a lot of that had to do with the change in gas formulation for Fall and Winter. It is cheaper to refine winter gas formulation than it is for the Summer blend. The fact that it appears to coincide with our elections is mostly coincidental.
The Right-wing mantra of “Drill, baby Drill” to lower our gas prices has just been shown to be the fiction it really is. Supply and Demand is not in force in our oil markets as long as you have unregulated speculation going on.