From the GREAT STATE OF MAINE…
You Saved Me, Daily Kos. Thank You.
Two months ago you, the Daily Kos community, exercised your annual option to maintain collective ownership of my soul---including 12 more months of C&J---in exchange for twenty pieces of silver. Which brings me to my recent extended absence from this joint.
On the morning of March 9th, I checked myself in to the emergency room with some ungodly pain in my left gut. Over the course of eight hours, one possible culprit after another (ingested Lego Star Wars action figures, low blood levels of Bacardi 151, hemofarcic follicletitis with extra cheese, a splinter, etc.) was ruled out. Fresh out of options, the surgical staff drew straws to see who was going to cancel their bowling night in favor of having the privilege of being the first human to get an EXCLUSIVE behind-the-epidermis tour of Billeh's federally-unregulated gastro-industrial complex. And here’s where it gets interesting.
During the nearly-four-hour surgery---and I swear this is not fake news---I was visited by the Three Stooges of the Apocalypse: Jesse Helms, Jerry Falwell and Joe McCarthy. After making an awkward coco-butt sound trying to squeeze through their flaming afterlife portal all at once, they informed me that, via a complex series of "credit default mortality swap" trades, they were entitled to my soul and it was time to collect.
I don't remember much of what happened after I told them with a mile-wide grin that my soul had already been extracted by the ten-toed minions of the Great Orange Satan and stored in a location that was like kryptonite to conservatives: the back of the fridge in the home office in Berkeley. But I do remember hearing another coco-butt sound followed by lots of insufferable whining as the Three Stooges of the Apocalypse rode their flaming hoverboards back to hell to face the ultimate punishment for their failure: spending eternity in a front-row seat at a Kirk Cameron film festival.
When I awoke the next morning, I was told I have some colon cancer that I have to kick to the curb, which I shall do expeditiously. (C&J posting may be a bit spotty for a bit, which we'll make up for on the back end---um, so to speak.) But what's more important is what I didn’t have that morning: my soul, which remains entirely in your protective custody. And thanks to you, the demons were denied their 21 grams of Billeh. Ha. Fuck 'em.
Cheers and Jeers starts below the fold... [Swoosh!!] RIGHTNOW! [Gong!!]
Cheers and Jeers for Monday, March 20, 2017
Note: I'd be committing blogger malpractice if I didn’t write in C&J about my recent medical scare, including how it collided head-on with both my experience with Obamacare coverage and the current attempt to replace it with the joke known as Trumpcare. I'll do my best to keep it free of gratuitous graphic imagery and make my points with the usual snark. But rest assured this isn’t going to suddenly become Poor Me's Never Ending Medical Journal. Having said that, please allow me a moment to fall (very slowly) to my knees and say gracias, gracias, gracias to Spanish military surgeon Fidel Pagés for introducing the pain-killing epidural to the world in 1921. Thanks to him, surgery patients can recuperate in the comfort of a hospital bed instead of stuck to the ceiling with their fingers dug into the plaster. Again I say: gracias, Fidel, for the precious gift of numb.
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By the Numbers:
Days 'til the special election in Georgia's 6th congressional district:29
Days 'til the Roswell Beer Festival: 5
Number of weekly listeners of NPR's programs last fall, up nearly 4 million from a year earlier according to FiveThirtyEight: 37.5 million
Percent increase in NPR listenership among the 25-44 demo: 26%
Number of kids under 5 killed per year because of polluted environments, according to the World Health Organization: 1.7 million
Percent of U.S. dams that will be at least 50 years old by 2025: 70%
Minimum lobster haul last year by Maine fishermen (valued at $533 million), according to The Portland Press Herald: 130 million pounds
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Puppy Pic of the Day:
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CHEERS to Spring! 'Bout effing time, huh? The new season rolled in at 6:29 ET this morning. Unfortunately this year, for the first time, I had to outsource my usual ritual of strapping on fairy wings and a tutu, going outside and romping barefoot through the barley fields with the wee village folk. But Gladys the 89-year-old retired logger across the street was more than happy to oblige. We hope your 10-day outlook is a little springier than ours. But we're not complaining: as of today, we're still on track to be snow-free by June.
P.S. Where do people go to learn tough life lessons about the seasons? At the School of Hard Vernal Equinox! Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!!! (Sorry---the codeine made me do it.)
JEERS to the big neocon wet dream. Sorry to kill the spring-is-here buzz so quickly, but I can't let today go by without noting it's the 14th anniversary of the day George W.Bush and his neocon pals---with an embarrassing assist from the media and far too many Democratic leaders and pundits holding their fingers up into the political wind---began the invasion of Iraq. It was a war based entirely on lies---so naturally Donald Trump was all for it. It's impossible to say which moron in a position of authority uttered the dumbest thing during the war. Certainly Bush and his inner circle produced many dumpsters of bullshit. But I keep coming back to this nutball who said with a straight-face:
Ted Koppel: You’re not suggesting that the rebuilding of Iraq is going to be done for $1.7 billion?
Andrew Natsios [Agency for International Development]: Well, in terms of the American taxpayer's contribution, I do. This is it for the U.S.
---Nightline (4/23/03)
4,516 American service personnel lost their lives during the biggest war crime of the new century, with another 32,000 wounded. And what is George Bush's latest project? Paintin' portraits of some of those vets he sent to be cannon fodder on behalf of the oil industry who came back with pieces of themselves missing. How classy. But there was one bright side to the war: by botching it so badly we saved a fortune on victory sweets and flowers.
CHEERS to previews of coming attractions. Big day for talking heads in Swampland, D.C. today. The action starts at 10 with the House Intelligence Committee’s "open hearing on its investigation into Russian active measures during the 2016 election campaign" starring FBI director James Comey and NSA director Michael Rogers. Watch for wily ranking member Adam Schiff (D-CA) to tear open some fresh gashes in the side of the Trump-Putin love boat. Then at 11, Judge Neil Gorsuch, who was cultivated in a test tube at the Federalist Society from the DNA of a Cialis ad couple, will smooth-talk his way through his Senate Judiciary Committee hearings. Best we can hope for is Al Franken to toss out some zingers, although there may be a memorable moment or two from Pat Leahy, Sheldon Whitehouse and Dick Blumenthal. The hearings will be broken up into two sessions so that the senators can grab a bite to eat and Gorsuch can have his batteries changed.
JEERS to bad men behaving badly. So-called "president" Donald Trump spent his 7th taxpayer-funded vacation weekend at his Mar-A-Lago palace in Florida, including his 10th round of golf since January 20th. But in fairness, he did have some major recuperation to do after meeting with German Chancellor Angela Merkel, who humiliated him just by appearing in the same room with him. In the asshole move of the week, Trump refused to shake her hand, leading to this brilliant meme on twitter:
Meanwhile buyer's remorse seems to be kicking in among Americans faster than a Republican congressman running from a town hall meeting. Trump's now at an unprecedentedly god-awful 37% approval and 58% disapproval in the daily Gallup tracking poll. And golly shucks…he's plum outta pivots.
CHEERS to strategic cutting and running. On March 20, 1942, General Douglas MacArthur pulled out of the Philippines during World War II so his forces could live to fight the Japanese another day. His words made history: "I shall return." Not so historic were the words that followed: "Accelerator's on the right, Chumley. First hit the clutch...now give it some gas...a little more...great, now you've stalled, try it again. I swear, this is the last time I moonlight as a war zone driving instructor..."
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Ten years ago in C&J: March 20, 2007
CHEERS to a pleasant stroll. Over the weekend, on the eve of the Iraq war's fourth anniversary, war demonstrations broke out allover the country (including 100 communities here in Maine). The right-wingers were out, too, but their chant---"Two, Four, Six, Eight, give the president's plan time to work at least until the end of the summer and maybe early fall so that the Maliki government can establish some sense of order in the parliament!"---just didn’t have the usual zip to it. Paging Frank Luntz...
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And just one more…
CHEERS to the miracle of recording. Chuck Berry may be gone (at ripe old 90), but his genius will always be a mere click away. Consider this your Monday wake-up call:
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Have a tolerable Monday. Great to be back! Floor's open...What are you cheering and jeering about today?
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Today's Shameless C&J Testimonial:
"Maybe rather than getting that new iPhone that they just love and they want to go spend hundreds of dollars on that, maybe they should invest in Cheers and Jeers."
---Rep. Jason Chaffetz (R-UT)
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