Music for a Sunday: You smell a familiar perfume…

…from a girl you knew long ago:

“But you’re there/once more/in some forgotten story/from your/private library…”

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Quotable: Amy Wilentz on Haiti

“The figure of the Haitian living abroad is one that evokes bitter comedy and, often, envy among Haitians living in Haiti. Haitian Haitians can quickly spot someone from what is called the diaspora visiting Port-au-Prince. A Haitian friend once told me that the big difference, aside from a visible discrepancy in wealth, is that someone from lòt bò dlo (or the other side of the water, which means “abroad” in Haitian Creole) walks with purpose and studied intent, as if he or she has a destination in mind at every moment. Island Haitians can find such goal-oriented behavior strange, unreal, even ridiculous, since the poverty of life in Haiti means that goals are often unachievable.”

–Amy Wilentz, in the New York Times

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Wankers of the Week: A truckload of turkeys

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Yes, this is real. Figures it’s from Aryan-fucking-zona.

Crappy Thanksgiving, Canada–and crappy weekend, world! Because Teh Stoopid never takes a holiday, I’ve decided to load up the pickup and deliver you a load of bad cranberries…to go with these fucking turkeys:

1. Jim Fucking DeMint. So, DeMented’s latest bon mot is that sexy singles and gays shouldn’t teach? Well, I think right-wing wackos should be debarred from practicing medicine, religion, law or politics. Or anything else that puts them in a position of power, because there is ample proof out there that all they ever do with it is fuck up. Hey, fair’s fair.

2. Boyd Fucking Packer. Another fucking homophobe in a position of power, this one Mormon. Send him packing–click the link and sign the petition, folks.

3. Christine O’Fucking Donnell. The “classified” information she claims to have on China isn’t classified; it isn’t even new. So how seriously should we take her when she claims China has a secret, fiendish plan to take over the US? Oh, about as seriously as we have to take her dad when he puts on his fright wig, red nose, greasepaint and oversized shoes. PS: No, girlfriend, you are so NOT me!

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4. Jason Fucking Kenney. Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the shit of a lying scum. And he laid it in more places than one.

5. James O’Fucking Keefe. Last week I called him a sleazy little shit-weasel. I was entirely too kind. The boy-man makes a travesty of the whole notion of sexual consent. And an icky travesty, at that. One gets the distinct feeling that he doesn’t like women. At the rate he’s going, the feeling will soon be more than mutual.

6. Glenn Fucking Beck. What will it be this week? The Chavecito wank? Um, Chavecito’s citizen militias, unlike the dumb redneck toy armies galumphing all over the backwoods of the US, are at least well-regulated, by government, with training by real military officers (who, after all, worked with the same FAL rifles that the militias are now using). Then how about the burning-down-the-house wank? Problem there is, to have the government pay for it from taxes would have cost the citizens less. Oh! Oh! I know! The kooky-conspiracies-stolen-from-Alex-Jones wank! That one’s a real wiener, er, winner!

7. The Fucking South Fulton (Tennessee) Fire Department. In light of the past week’s events, you may want to amend that mission statement there, fellas.

8. Sarah Fucking Palin. Remember how she gushed about wanting to meet Maggie Thatcher? Well, Maggie’s biographer thinks she’s a waste of protoplasm. And Maggie, you’ll recall, is housebound with senile dementia. D’oh!

9. Stephen Fucking Harper. No, he’s NOT fucking human. Any fucking questions?

10. Rand Fucking Paul. Not fucking human, either. REALLY not fucking human. Who needs death panels when you’ve got him?

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11. Jordan Fucking Gehrke. Where the racist fuckin’ retards at? Sharron Fucking Angle’s campaign office, that’s where. But of course, to point out that he IS one is “shrill and overly earnest”.

12. Jennifer Fucking Keeton. As noted here recently, you can tell a lot about someone by the following s/he attracts. In her case, it’s the fucking KKK; they like her “Christian” homophobia almost as much as they like their “Christian” cross-burnings. You have NO idea how tempted I was to spell her surname with a kkkouple of extra kkkapitals.

13. And from the same item, David Fucking French of the ADL. This makes HOW many times that organization has leapt into the same bed as the KKK, now? No one is demanding that Keeton “renounce her faith”, only her idiotic and misguided anti-gay prejudice, which views homosexuality as a “lifestyle” and a “sin”, rather than the inherent orientation that science has determined it to be. Duh.

14. And again, from that same article, for kkkomic relief, how about that Bobby Fucking Spurlock? “We’re trying to protest the constitutional rights that they are trying to take away from her,” sez the grand pooh-bah. Um, yeah, that’s about right. The KKK has been “protesting” against the constitutional rights of citizens ever since its inception as a lynch mob of frighteners and hatemongers just after the Civil War. Their mission is not to uphold rights, but to suppress them. Blacks and gays are not “real” human beings to them. So of course, it’s only natural that they would do this, right?

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15. David Fucking Barton. Funny how all those “small government” religious rightards are fully in favor of government interfering in people’s sex lives. This asshole wants the govenrnment to “regulate” (read: SUPPRESS) homosexuality. Hey, I have a bonzer idea: How about governments everywhere start taxing right-wing churches? Especially those with preachers who wear shit-ugly shirts?

16. Andrew Fucking Miller. You don’t have to be a literal wanker to work in the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles, but it’s a definite asset. As is a wide stance.

17. Aaron Fucking Riley. 7.5 terabytes of kiddie porn is one helluva lot of wank. Does this crazy fucker even have a life away from his computer?

18. Ron Fucking Johnson. If flibbertigibbertarians are so smart, why can’t they make themselves available to the media and answer some goddamned questions? Oh, I get it: If they can’t control what questions get asked, they won’t answer. How pro-freedom is THAT? These fucking crypto-fascists are the first ones, always and inevitably, to try to muzzle the media. Just as they’re always the ones trying hardest to silence li’l ol’ ME.

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19. Kathleen Fucking Folden. What do you bet this self-appointed Carrie Nation of public “decency” is one of those religious-right types who talk big about small government, too? Srsly, lady, if you don’t like to see Jesus getting a BJ, DON’T FUCKING LOOK!

20. William Fucking Mattison. Jesus H. Christ, how many damn birth certificates does the state of Hawaii have to release before all these crazy fucking idiots stop threatening to kill His Barackness over it?

21. Lou Fucking Dobbs. Now we know why he offgassed so much about undocumented immigrants, calling them “illegals” and slamming them for stealing jobs from “hard-working Americans”. IT WAS TO KEEP THE WAGES OF HIS PEONS DOWN, STUPID! And for the love of Dios…how many fucking houses and horses does a babbling idiot on the nightly news need to own, anyway? No wonder he was so goddamn cheap with the help. News anchors may make more than your typical ink-stained wretches, but the economics of that one still don’t add up. Unless…

22. Bryan Fucking Fischer. Useless eater is in favor of burning houses down if their occupants don’t pay a “libertarian” tax increase. Like I said earlier, may I not give a piss if the same one day happens to him.

23. Avi Yaakobov. You may want to save your belly-dancing skills for women who aren’t terrified and blindfolded, and who actually WANT to watch you wiggle your pelvis, dickweed. PS: Oh, FUCK.

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24. The Fucking Phelps KKKlan. If you’re gonna quote Ozzy Osbourne, you might want to remember what the real lyrics to “Crazy Train” were. Among them: “Maybe/it’s not too late/to learn how to love/and forget how to hate”. Also, the chorus goes “I’m going off the rails on a crazy train.” Which is, ironically, appropriate; the Phelpses have been off the rails for decades now. It’s time this crazy train rolled into the ditch. I hope Ozzy sues!

25. David Bruce Fucking McMahan. Some men aren’t fit to be fathers. This incestuous slimeball is one of those. And worse.

26. Mike Fucking Rosen. Yes, the right-wing LOVES terrorism. They even call for it, openly, on the public airwaves. But somehow, calls for anti-Muslim terrorism are perfectly kosher–at least in the state of Colorado.

27. Pierre Fucking Poilievre. Why?

That’s why. Shouldn’t he have waited until AFTER he was all growed up before he went to work on the Hill?

28. Rich Fucking Iott. He’s a “purely historical” wanker. Of course. What else could he be? Only there’s one problem with that excuse: The real Nazis did NOT wear camouflage fatigue pants with their tunics. In fact, they never wore camo anything, anywhere.

29. Lucio Fucking Sucio Gutiérrez. The blood of last week’s attempted coup (now confirmed even by the normally servile Chicken Noodle Network!) in Ecuador is on his hands. So far, eight dead and more than 200 injured. And to add insult to injury, the asshole blames President Correa–and claims HE was taking orders from Chavecito? There aren’t enough cusswords in the dictionary for this one.

30. Sharron Fucking Angle. Who knew that Dearborn, Michigan–home of the Ford Motor Co.–was now under Sharia law? Nobody, actually…Crazybitch just made that shit up. The laffs just keep on coming.

31. David Fucking Vitter. Diaperdude joins Crazybitch #30 in using racist videos to illustrate the concept of “illegal” people. Funny how they never use white Russian mafiosi. Are aliens only “illegal” when brown and Spanish-speaking? Sure smells that way.

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32. The Fucking Insane Clown Posse. As I’ve said before, you can tell a lot about someone from the kind of followers they attract. In the case of this truly atrocious group, it’s largely violent idiots with right-wing sympathies and vague, nihilistic notions. So it should come as no surprise that they are actually fundies in greasepaint. And their shitty lyrics reflect a certain…oh, shall we say…utter contempt for the humanity that was supposedly created in God’s image, especially the female half. Not to mention a real stupidity when it comes to science. Just because THEY don’t understand how magnets and evolution work, doesn’t mean there’s really an invisible hand at work making miracles. It means they don’t understand how magnets and evolution work–period. (I’m gonna go way out on a limb here and guess that they were all very poor students.) Is anyone buying their “we’re just trying to reach (and preach to) the kids” shit? I’m not.

33. Virginia Fucking Thomas. I hope the wife of Judge Pubic-Hair-in-my-Coke realizes that a return to the “conservative cons
titutional values” of the past means that she and he will have to divorce. Interracial marriage was illegal then, you know.

34. Ron Fucking Paul. If you thought his son was crazy as a coot, wait’ll you see who he got it from. Nobody in his right mind could think a “Soviet-style collapse” was a good thing, let alone a necessary precondition for the removal of all US bases from foreign soil! Please, can we just have the both of them committed?

35. All those crazy fucking racists who call in to C-SPAN. Especially when there’s a “colored” man sitting in the host’s chair. At best, they are comical. At worst…well, let’s just say that THEY are what is wrong with the US, and what always has been.

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And finally, to the retarded fucking gun nut (from Poland??? I smell a rat!) who pooped here. Reading comprehension: Acquire some, dude. I don’t like guns in the hands of power-mad thugs, no matter who they are. I am for accountability, and neither for nor against gun ownership (although much less of the latter and much more of the former would unquestionably make the world a much better place).

And no, that stance did not change during the rescue of Rafael Correa. Nor will it ever. The Ecuadorian military acted responsibly; the putschist federal police did not. If your simple mind doesn’t process that not-terribly-complicated fact, it ain’t my fault.

Good night, and get fucked!

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Somebody help me, I’m going nowhere…

…all in all, I’m just another brick in the wall.

I’m glad someone besides me noticed how similar these two songs are…and how seamlessly they mash together. Pink Floyd, meet…The Bee Gees:

Who knew that marching neofascist hammers could be so…funky?

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Festive Left Friday Blogging: Happy Birthday, John Lennon!

This weekend, John Lennon turns 70. (“I never died,” says he.) Here’s a roundup of all the best bits…

Salon reviews the film “Nowhere Boy”, which sounds like it deserves a much wider distribution than it’s currently getting. (Shall I spring for the DVD? Decisions.)

NY Magazine reviews various John Lennon films as well, on the basis of “who nailed him and who failed him”. With clips.

Jon Friedman speculates that Lennon–an inveterate sloganeer and scribbler–would have loved social media such as Twitter. Well, we know that Yoko Ono does, she’s on it:

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Incidentally, I recommend her for Follow Friday. That’s today. And if you’re not on the tweeter yet, get busy!

Can you believe that after all this time, the FBI is apparently still keeping a file on him? Or at least, they don’t want bits and pieces of it leaking out as memorabilia? He’d probably find that good for a laugh and a half. Especially since another fingerprint card of his was auctioned by Sotheby’s, no problem, back in 1991.

Here’s Ringo, who also turned 70 earlier this year, wishing John the same. With (short!) clip.

And finally, the Quarrymen, John’s first band, will be reuniting, and appearing with folk-rock legends such as Pete Seeger and Tom Paxton, to play a birthday gig in Manhattan, not far from John’s last home at the Dakota. Strawberry Fields forever!

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A few random thoughts on Mario Vargas Llosa

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Understand that writers are not necessarily good teachers, or even good people.

– T. C. Boyle

Hearing that Mario Vargas Llosa won the Nobel prize for literature this year was like hearing that a ghost had won it. That’s because the Vargas Llosa who wrote the great book that won the prize no longer exists.

Sure, he’s still there physically. But other than that, it’s like he’s just a whole other person. He’s no longer that great writer. He’s the body that the spirit abandoned. A great writer’s shambling, moaning zombie, perhaps. But he is no longer that person.

This isn’t easy for me to write. A lot of people I like, admire and respect are unreservedly pleased for him. They’ve read his good stuff, no doubt, and that’s why. The stuff of 40-odd years ago. I have yet to read it. Perhaps if I had, I’d feel differently; at the very least, I’d be sighing with happy nostalgia for the Vargas Llosa that was. But I’ve read his recent stuff–that is to say, his shit, and I have to say, the Vargas Llosa of today is not a writer I can admire. Maybe the one from 40-odd years ago is, but he’s dead, Jim.

What killed the great Mario Vargas Llosa? Was it an illness, an accident, a suicide? Or was it murder?

To understand how Vargas Llosa went from being a great writer to being the ghost of one, you have to look at what happened to so many others over the last 40-odd years. They started out young, idealistic, typically somewhere on the left end of the political spectrum. They were progressives. They were poets, they were songsters, they were political militants. They weren’t afraid to tell all the truth, and tell it slant. They were full of a fiery energy that bade fair to frizzle up everything old and stagnant and unfortunate enough to stand in its way.

But then something happened between then and now. They lost it, that fire. Instead of frizzling up the old and stagnant, they became it. And they frizzled up from within.

Look what happened to Christopher Hitchens. Or to David Horowitz. Both started out as rather good writers, promising Trotskyists; both ended up as loathsome, lying neo-cons, vile enough to make a saint retch. Just something inherent in Trotskyism, some virus, some flaw that makes the adherent turn from perpetual revolution to perpetual imbecility? Just something inherently weak and debilitating in the left in general?

Hardly.

There are plenty of other writers from that era who did not abandon their initial political leanings. Ursula K. Le Guin is still a feminist, still opposed to war, still asking radical literary questions as an elder stateswoman of American Lit. She has only grown more brilliant over time. Gabriel García Márquez stayed on the left, won his Nobel and kept writing, and remains beloved and admired (by me, and yes, I have read his latest. It’s not shit. He is still true to his own voice.)

It is entirely possible, in other words, to be a great writer, and a leftist, up to one’s dying day. One’s physical dying day, that is, since great writing is about as close to immortality as anyone can get.

Even those who did not physically live out the era still kept their gemlike flame. Che Guevara, who died the year I was born (just a little over two months after, in fact) is not only more popular than ever, he is also recognized as a fine writer in his own right. His diaries all stand as classics. And why not? A man who could turn phrases like “Let’s be realists and do the impossible” deserves to be an immortal.

I’m sure the great Vargas Llosa, who won the prize posthumously as it were, is an immortal, or ought to be one. And that’s what makes the zombie who schlepps around wearing his name and face and clothing such a sad travesty. We’re still getting around to how he got dead, though.

As leftist politics fell out of vogue in Latin America through the latter 1960s, and into the ’70s and ’80s, a lot of lefties went right. Teodoro Petkoff, a guerrilla in early-1960s Venezuela, wound up in the 1990s as the finance minister to conservative president Rafael Caldera–and, not coincidentally, overseeing one of the worst financial catastrophes in Venezuela after the Caracazo. His policies were orthodox neoliberalism–pure Chicago School stuff, all by the Bretton Woods book. And they just about ruined Venezuela, not to mention any credibility that Petkoff ever had. His leftist guerrilla cred was as the dodo. He may have remained a pithy and scathing writer–even somehow managing, in the midst of economic collapse, to scare up the money to start his own newspaper, now sacred to the purpose of attacking Venezuela’s current president. But he has become a corpse himself. Hardly anyone buys Tal Cual. No one can take him seriously, not even the opposition with whom he now runs (and still gets into vicious verbal brawls, when not busy slinging mud at Chavecito.) Washington may sponsor him, and the foreign press may fawn on him, but at home it means nothing. His own presidential efforts have been a flat failure.

So, incidentally, have those of none other than Mario Vargas Llosa. How flat? Well, he fucked off for Spain soon after. Suddenly, Peru was no longer good enough for him? Draw your own conclusions. But yes, he ran as a neoliberal or neo-con, and yes, he failed dismally as one. Just like Teodoro Petkoff.

What made these two once-fine writers dead? Just some wasting disease inherent in ex-leftism, I guess.

But the zombie of Vargas Llosa, like that of Petkoff, gives a convincing impression of still being alive. It walks, it talks (mostly gibberish, nowadays), and it gets into fights. (It once, famously, sucker-punched the still-leftist, very-much-alive Gabo–who metaphorically clobbered his ex-friend by grinning, black eye and all, for the camera, knowing himself to be blameless.)

Sometimes the zombie-Vargas Llosa takes its son Alvaro along for the ride, tag-team fashion. Alvaro Vargas Llosa isn’t a ghost, he’s an unborn wraith. He was never alive. But like his father, he’s a very lifelike spook. He, too, writes fictions, even if they’re not labelled as such. (An egregious error? Au contraire, it’s part and parcel of the overall degeneracy that’s seeped into western culture as the right has become ascendant.) He’ll never win any prizes for them; none that matter, anyway. Vargas Llosa père has passed his degeneracy on to Vargas Llosa fils.

It really is frightening to watch the two of them somnambulating–or would be, if it weren’t so comical. Because neither one enjoys any great credibility in LatAm anymore, not since the people keep electing and re-electing leftists, ignoring the groans of the living dead. Both Vargas Llosas regularly get trucked into Venezuela, where they give big speeches to tiny audiences, gibberish to the effect that there’s no freedom of speech anymore since that Castro-communist Chavecito came to power. Meanwhile, public, independent and community media have multiplied in Venezuela, thanks to government funding, greatly diversifying the spectrum of political views expressed. The thing is, it’s all happening on the left. On the right, the commercial media remain stagnant, and no one seems to want to talk about how many eyeballs they’ve lost. Or how the loss of RCTV’s public-airwaves licence was actually due to repeated vio
lations, most dating back decades before Chavecito, of Venezuelan broadcast standards, and not censorship. No one on the right, indeed, is saying anything worth paying attention to at all. (That’s why they keep losing elections, too.)

But I guess it’s uncharitable of me to point all that out; after all, we’re supposed to speak no ill of the dead. I really should look up the works of fiction that Vargas Llosa wrote before he became a zombie. I’m sure I will appreciate them, in the same abstracted way I can appreciate the genius of poor, batshit-crazy Ezra Pound–by divorcing the brilliance of the language from the worm-ridden fascist skull from whence it sprung.

And then, perhaps, I will wish the ghost of Mario Vargas Llosa all happiness in his posthumous prize–a prize no less surreal, in my eyes, than Barack Obama’s pre-emptive Nobel for peace, or that of Henry Kissinger.

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Posted in Artsy-Fartsy Culture Stuff, Fascism Without Swastikas, Huguito Chavecito, Inca Dink-a-Doo, Isn't It Ironic? | 3 Comments

Quotable: Anne Sexton on the composition of poetry

“Those moments before a poem comes, when the heightened awareness comes over you, and you realize a poem is buried there somewhere, you prepare yourself. I run around, you know, kind of skipping around the house, marvelous elation. It’s as though I could fly, almost, and I get very tense before I’ve told the truth–hard. Then I sit down at the desk and get going with it.”

–Anne Sexton, interviewed by Barbara Kevles for The Paris Review

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Stupid Sex Tricks: Finally, some hope for my haters!

I have a feeling that these will be very popular among a certain kind of male troll that frequently comes here thinking to taunt me:

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And hey, it’s cheaper than guns or big ugly SUVs. Guys, why not swallow your foolish pride and spring for a WonderBro?

(H/t Roger Ebert.)

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Short ‘n’ Stubby: A grab bag o’ goodies

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Ms. Manx, as I’ve mentioned earlier, is not a polydactyl. She lacks even a semblance of opposable thumbs. All the same, she likes to reach her soft paws inside the great big grab bag of the Internets and fish for goodies. Here are some of the plums she’s pulled out today, kiddies:

A terrific article (not characteristic of the Atlantic, which has really deteriorated of late) about the care and feeding of introverts. Ms. Manx, whose university counsellor found her to be an INFP in the Myers-Briggs scheme of things, could not agree more with the closing paragraphs:

First, recognize that it’s not a choice. It’s not a lifestyle. It’s an orientation.

Second, when you see an introvert lost in thought, don’t say “What’s the matter?” or “Are you all right?”

Third, don’t say anything else, either.

In other scientific news, linguists have discovered a previously unheard-of language in northeastern India, near the Himalayas. The language, Koro, is spoken by perhaps no more than a thousand people. No wonder it was never heard of until recently!

And could mushrooms clean up the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico? Some say yes. Ms. Manx says she loves mushrooms.

Ms. Manx also greatly admires the backbone of the Icelanders.

And she is very heartened to hear that long-form, investigative journalism isn’t dead yet.

And finally, for those who like their women well-proportioned, Ms. Manx has more good news from the world of science: Bottom-heavy babes are built to last. Now, if only the fashion world would smarten the fuck up and cater!

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Libertarianism at work, for realz

Aw. Aren’t the flibbertigibbertarians adorable when their “principles” come, literally, under fire? Glenn Fucking Beck sure was. He waxed all racist on a family who didn’t pay the $75 mafia extortion protection racket subscription fee the local fire department charged, in line with the whole Small Government Run Like a Business thing. And when their house burned down, the newly liberated fire department stood by, crossed their arms, and let it.

And when the incident was duly noted and criticized by progressive media sites, the defensive reaction was fun to watch. Alternet’s Josh Holland also makes the interesting point that it would be cheaper and more effective to run the government like a government, not a private, for-profit business:

Anyway, Think Progress reports today that they’re expanding the subscription service to additional towns in the county. And, also, that providing full fire coverage for the entire county would result in a whopping 0.13 percent increase in property taxes.

Which, I’m guessing, comes to much less than $75 per household, on average. (Especially with the US housing market in a state of collapse. That was Dubya’s “Ownership Society” at work, remember?)

Actually, this is the reason “socialized” (tax-funded) fire departments are such a success, while “subscription” (i.e. mafia protection racket) ones flop time and again. (That, and the arson associated with that latter. No shit, it’s happened repeatedly.) What’s the point of having a fire department if it only fights SOME fires, and lets others burn?

But to the flibbers, it’s no matter. As Think Progress notes, the flibbers were too busy debating what injects “crunchiness” into “our soggy, fallen world” while that poor family’s house was burning. And that’s entirely in line with what they’re like overall, anyway. So obsessed with their bogus principles that the practical just totally eludes them. They aren’t fit to run a pop stand, much less our world, on the basis of that epic-fail ideology. But since they’re well financed by wingnut welfare, it’s not like they have to really care, or even put much intellectual effort into it. Any fatuous nonsense they babble will get published, clockwork-like, by some right-wing stink tank or other.

If any of their houses were on fire, and they hadn’t paid their protection racket money, I wouldn’t chip in to save them. I wouldn’t even offer them a full chamber pot. Let them put it out themselves, if they’re manly enough to. Let them piss it out.

Hey, it’s the principle of the thing!

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Posted in Crapagandarati, Isn't It Ironic?, Karma 1, Dogma 0, Socialism is Good for Capitalism!, The "Well, DUH!" Files, The Hardcore Stupid | Comments Off on Libertarianism at work, for realz