The Curmudgeon

Your Curmudgeon has been watching the blathering news take a back seat to Olympics (rightfully so- the Danish Women's Curling Squad wears skirts and stockings) and All Things Tiger (not so rightfully so, see the latest American Patrol entry).

In spare moments, I think I have caught the real clue about the Palin Panty-Wadding over the term "retard". The winktacular Caribou Barbie has been taking on somewhat of crusade over the word "retard".

To recap the unfolding of the story:

Rahm Emmanuel (who could best serve the nation by going to 'spend more time with his family', or alternately, rest his severed head on a pike on the White House lawn) called politcal lefties "fucking retards". Palin got upset, and wanted Rahm fired. Rahm apologized.

Rush Limbaugh used "retard" like it was fresh cracked black pepper on his piccata. Palin demurred. Rush continued to bloviate.

Family Guy used the word "retard". Palin's panties got sucked into a massive two-hole wad.

Now, at every juncture of this event, there has been commentary from left and right over this, ranging the spectrum predictably from fawning praise to cries of 'hypocrisy'.

Just as predictably, the above mentioned response have been thus far considerably far from the mark.

I don't think that hypocrisy is the prime motivator here. Just as the LBGT community took over the word "queer", the kinky community reclaimed "pervert", and the black community turned "nigger" into "the n-word"... the fRight wingnuts have been looking for a word to claim as their own- and in 'retard', they've found it.

Whether this move on the part of Palin et al is praiseworthy will remain as a mental exercise to the reader.

In my ever-intermittent coverage of the subtitled translation of the events of the day, I offer this:

And yes, it truly just doesn't matter. The status quo will be what the ownership class decides it will be. Nothing- well, nothing that improves the state of affairs for the non-ownership class will happen.

Lest you delude yourself: owning a house doesn't make you part of the ownership class.
Being a 'politically active citizen' doesn't make you part of the ownership class.
Owning a retirement account, some stocks, or any other 'investment vehicle' doesn't make you a part of the ownership class.

Being simply a "have" instead of a "have-not" doesn't make you a part of the ownership class.

The ownership class sits upon massive dynastic wealth, livid in greed over the thought that anyone else has anything else. And the ownership class runs this show. The government? It is just another arm, another vehicle to express their control.

Think I am just angry? Just some foam-mouthed class warrior? Feh. Look at what is happening, look at where the money is going, and from where it comes. Look at how where the power lies within the structure, and notice too how it grows evermore concentrated.

There is no class war. It is over. We didn't win. And far too many are STILL too fucking stupid to realize it.

I had worked up a head of steam, several head-fulls in fact, over this latest bit of utter bullshit that is the great outrage over President Obama's address to school kids. Yup, it is really nothing more than another excuse for the rabid racist rethugs to show their lily-white racism (tinged with coward yellow, of course) to get all excited and piss themselves in outrage.

The same old act we've seen from them for months now.

Isn't about time that the obvious gets suggested- that these folks really kinda enjoy sloshing around in their own piss?

Further, isn't about time to realize that it truly isn't worthwhile to give them serious attention for their urinary efforts? I mean, they've taken the step of soiling themselves for attention... is it not time to add some humiliation to the mix?

But nah, that ain't gonna happen... far better to continue to wade about in this pissy kiddy pool we pretend is a great political debate.

I have a new word for folks to learn; futilitarianism. It describes the state of political affairs in the States today- a process by which any action or inaction is rendered desirable only to the extent that it accomplishes nothing meaningfully, and if possible renders the status quo less tenable.

Charles Grassley used to be a mostly quiet Senator from Iowa. He also used to go by "Chuck".

Your Curmudgeon is not sure why, but it does seem like Grassley has been coming unhinged recently. While the reasons for this now-folksy, now-rabid downward spiral are not certain, it IS certain that Chuck Grassley has earned the title of Ignoranus of the Moment. First, he intimated that AIG CEOs should consider committing suicide. Then, he had himself a little moment intimating that he may have had a good time with another Senator's wife. Earlier this summer, Grassley was all a twitter tweeting about the health care reform process.

Now, while on his August break, Grassley's back in Iowa, pressing the sweaty flesh with his constituents in town hall meetings. His meetings have not become occasion for the neo-brownshirt goon brigade tactics seen in those held by Democratic legislators. Not content with this sort of non-newsy quiet, the Senator has decided to raise the rhetorical stakes, and fanned the wingnut hysteria over the outrage du jour, the fictional 'death panels' objection to health care reform.

It is without question a bitch move on Grassley's part. The whole lie about death panels is an intentional fiction. Hell, even Sarah freaking Palin stepped back from her own bullshit about it. To stake out an even more whacked out position, to the far loon flank of Palin, requires an unique combination of stupidity and assholery, and as such, Grassley stands out as the Ignoranus.

Okay, so I haven't exactly posted much of anything for a while. Let's just say I was otherwise occupied, life being what happens while making plans and all. We may get into what that has meant for me at another time.

I do have a question for those who still read the stuff here at the Pubhouse: What does "Single Payer Universal Health Care" mean to you? Do you support the idea, or not?

File this under "One more reason to await the arrival of outside cooking season": the Bacon Explosion. Bacon stuffed in sausage and wrapped in bacon, then barbecued.

Oh. My. Goodness.

"Cake", in this instance, is an outside temperature above 0 F.

We've been dutiful little Minnesotans- taking the icy slaps with minimal whining. It isn't like we're asking for a THAW, just a temp without a minus sign. And the weather folk promised.

But it is a lie.

Bastages.

Sad, sad news today for your Curmudgeon. Peter Freyne- a journalist landmark of Vermont- has passed. I cannot eulogize him any better than has been done at Seven Days, where he did a good deal of his reportage.

When I lived in Vermont, and specifically when I lived in Burlington, I made sure and double sure that I got the weekly alternative journal Seven Days each and every week. Yeah, I was (and am) a nut for alternative free weeklies- and Seven Days did not disappoint. Every issue- the first thing I did was to look for Freyne's stuff- it was how I learned the political landscape of Vermont.

Even when I moved here, I would still check online to catch Freyne and check up on the goings-on in Vermont.

I fondly recall meeting Peter, a decade ago. We had an evening of drinks and a great conversation- an actual pubhouse dialogue. He was just out for the evening, and I was there unwinding after another day of rocking the line at the restaurant, catching the Bruins game.

Our conversation went all over the map- conceptually, politically, and geographically. We toasted Royko and Slats Grobnik, we lamented the way the small farmers in the Midwest and in New England were being strangled into a toxic submission, we reminisced fondly of the glory days, and the not-so-glory days of the Blackhawks. We talked of the unique, independent spirit of politics in Vermont. Ireland, and whisky, and beers, and how the art of conversation was being lost. It was a great night for me, and after that, we'd always greet each other when we'd bump into each other out and about in ole 'Burlap.

Requiem in pax, Peter. Hope you're gonna keep 'em honest there.

Okay, so we here in Minnesota are heading into what has been billed as the coldest week of the winter so far. Given that this is Minnesota, and it is January, perhaps it is not surprising news. Still, we are deep into winter, and have been long inured to what that means: life is a cold, windy, snowy trek which takes place a great deal in darkness. This 'arctic air mass invasion' (do we really need to keep extending military metaphors into every facet of life? really?) has nonetheless been getting attention and mention for nearly a week now- which to this Curmudgeon's mind means but one thing:

It is gonna be freaking nasty this week.

I offer the above observation to the many people who are now crowing about Franken's apparent victory in the Senate race. I can't help but notice that MANY of them are, well, not here in Minnesota. They're not Minnesotans on vacation, in exile, or anything of the sort. These folks are just really psyched that their choice for our representation in the Senate has won. Personally, I'd kinda like to make the choices of my representation myself. Anyway- this is for them:

Please, when you decide to do more crowing about "Senator Al Franken", at least acknowledge that you are cheering from outside. Or, alternately, make also the mention of how this is truly the land of the ice and snow, where commuters can't drive and political gas-bags blow.

Your Curmudgeon hopes he will not feel compelled to be writing any more about this topic, but he fears that this is not the case.

If pressed for kind words about Minnesota or Minnesotans, the first thing this Curmudgeon would mention is that the people of this state get hockey. The appetite for the sport is on par with my own, and I do appreciate that.

After the dizzying crush of the holidays, as the New year's dawn reveals that lo, what we have to face is a crushing slog through January and February and a sloshing slog of March- it is then perhaps that hockey seems never so welcome. Next week, FSN will do their Hockey Day-Minnesota (an idea borrowed from the Canadian Broadcasting Company's Hockey Day in Canada), a celebration of the sport at all levels and venues. In February, the CBC will have their own fete.

Today, though, there is hockey a plenty for me. A Bruins matinee, and a full schedule of hockey tonight, including Hockey Night in Canada... If ya want to find me, I'll be at the house, watching hockey.

If there is a more sorry sack of spineless shit excuse for a Senate Majority Leader than Harry "I have to borrow my balls from Mitch McConnell's handpurse" Reid, your Curmudgeon isn't sure he even wants to know about it. For entirely too long, the nation has waited for the Democratic Party to act like, well, just act. The time for waiting needs to be over. It is time for leaders to lead.

We've heard the "be patient- let the Democratic party get a real majority in the Senate" line, and so we waited. We waited and waited and watched the shameless and brazen cabal of Republicans throw out threat after threat of filibuster- not actual filibusters, just the threat of a filibuster. We saw how this pretty much ensured that damn precious little (save the open rape of the treasury by the wealthy elite) happened, and how this lack of action was placed on the plate of the Democratic party come elections.

And the Democratic Party won HUGE across the board despite that.

So now that the Democratic Party has that 'real majority' in the Senate, has there been any sign of leadership? Nope. The first and most obvious, most easy step would have been to drum Joe Lieberman out of the party caucus. No more chairing committees, no more of his droopydawg jowls flapping for the criminal cabal and the loyalist rethugs, none of it. It didn't happen, of course, and the Joe Lieberman who stood at the RNC and supported Grampy McSame and Milfy Winksandflirts, the Joe Lieberman who questioned Obama's patriotism, that Joe Lieberman was welcomed back into the fold, with vapid and flaccid promises of new-found loyalty.

It really shouldn't come as any surprise then, now that the 111th Congress has begun, that Harry Reid has continued to be a craven coward and let the tempo be set by the minority party, the party who overwhelmingly lost in November. The stimulus bill which President Elect Obama wanted ready for his signature at Day One- nah, that is off til February now. And when it comes to seating new Senators- even provisionally- well that would require stones well beyond Reid's feeble ability.

A Curmudgeonly bit of advice to the Democratic Leadership- whatever little bit of patience vested in you is dwindling quickly. It is time to start leading, and that means taking action. Leading means not backing down from weak-willed challenges. Leading means forcing the damn issue. The nation is facing some very dicey times, and continuing to be the collaborateur with the political factions and failed ideologies which have wrought this nightmare will not save the day.

Ya gotta love Parliamentary governments.

Take Canada as a shining example. In the time from the end of the RNC atrocity exhibition to the General Election in November, Canada had an entire election cycle. The Prime Minister called for an election there was a SIX WEEK (yes, six fucking weeks- compared to the TWO YEARS of campaigning we had to endure in the States...) campaign, followed by an election. The results of that election were available that night.

Another beauty thing about the system is that if the majority party or head of the minority coalition starts making a mess of things, a single no-confidence vote brings about another election. Or, as has been the drama this week, when a minority party's coalition starts flailing about another minority coalition can replace it. Just think how life here may have been changed for the better if in 2005 or so, the Chucklenuts Administration had fallen in a no-confidence vote...

The prospect of Stephen Harper being tossed on his ear has many in Canada excited. Harper has been to many a slightly more capable, slightly more moderate shadow of the dismal failure of a President the States have endure for eight years.

Ah, but it proved not to be that easy... Harpo called on the Governor General to suspend Parliament "prorogue"- and that is what happened. In a nutshell- Parliament was told to go home for about two months, when a budget vote (and hence, a confidence vote) will be due. I doubt that this will give Harper any more restful sleep, but the axe won't fall on him before Christmas. or Boxing Day.

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Meanwhile, back in Minnesota, the Franken-Coleman drags on. And on. When the recount is done this week, there will be the matter of the contested ballots. When THAT gets resolved, there will no doubt be lawsuits to resolve, and even then, this matter may go to the U.S. Senate, who may opt to impose its own resolution.

Feh, I still say. The only proposed resolution which would have damn near 100% support remains my "put 'em both on the same choke-chain" offering.

I suppose it could have been worse- I could have read my own damn obituary. Given the lack of posting on my part, such speculation would've been mildly warranted.

It was a surprise, I must admit, to have read in my good friend The Mississipifarian's blog that I was blogging elsewhere at something called the MN Progressive Project... And sure enough, someone using the moniker 'Curmudgeon' is blogging there.

But that ain't me. I've been, to borrow from Dorothy Parker, "too fucking busy, and vice versa." T Miss should have known that, but I also know he harbors a deep mistrust of Greens. And quite possibly old punk rockers, too.

The point is well-taken, though. I have been silent here long enough that impostors have popped up. Let's hope it doesn't become a Highlander-type deal. In any case, though- I'll be posting more, I promise.

Make no mistake about it- the US Senate race in Minnesota is heading to a recount. This portends to have all the fun of a long play date with an at-home DIY dentistry kit sans morphine or even nitrous oxide. The 'story' will be just compelling enough to keep ruminating in the news cycle, but any actual new information will be sparse enough that the reportage by the crack local mainstream media will feel like shadowy after-images of the Great Franken-Coleman Hate Advertising Barrage...

While the Curmudgeon does in his heart want the recount to proceed according to the pre-established rules (because really, everyone who voted deserves to have their vote counted), nonetheless the snide cattiness back-n-forth between the two camps somehow screams for a "pox on both houses" outcome.

Let's face it, folks: Norm the Windsock ain't all that, and Al Franken is definitely flawed at best. This ain't good vs evil, this ain't good guys vs bad guys, this is bought-off banality vs bought-off entitlement.

The Curmudgeon credits the comment section at The Cucking Stool for the inspiration of this solution: send 'em both to share a desk in the Senate. The Curmudgeon insists that while this is a good start, the real solution is to take it one step further:

Fit both Coleman and Franken with choke-chains, linked together on a very short chain. This way, their own antics will likely provide instant correction (not to mention endless voter amusement). Taken as a whole, this solution would provide Minnesota with what we deserve for allowing two such flawed candidates get this far in the process in the first place. Constant squabbling, palpable vacuousness on the issues, and a short list of actually doing anything- yeah that fits the bill.

But mostly I just like to imagine Norman and Al having to live life attached by choke-chains.