All posts by Licketysplit

You know what? Just no. I’m going the hell home.

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Yeah, blah blah blah, everyone should vote. Important, historic, your voice, bleebity blee. However, if you are undecided a day before the election, just stay home! What are the odds that you can turn the door knob successfully, anyway? Do not get all eenie meanie on us. Please use your political voice for something besides gargling in front of the bathroom mirror. No, scratch that, even gargling has a point.

The Kevin Sheen featured in this article has got to be a proud under-bridge dwelling American. I can see no other explanation for “”I’m actually still wrestling with moral issues,” says the 29-year-old registered Democrat, who voted for George W. Bush in 2004.”

Sheen, of Lincoln, Nebraska, says his vote is coming down to one issue: abortion. Sheen says he’s “definitely pro-life” and he’s trying to decide whether Democrat Barack Obama or Republican John McCain is more in line with his views.

Yeah, OK, it’s funny to jerk CNN around, troll pants, I’ll give you that. Earlier I made a Bob Barr voter feel bad about not having the balls to write in Ron Paul. I’m no angel. If this guy is not a troll, then I need to speak with his parents and every school he ever attended. I need to find a very important YouTube clip for this troubled young man.

And there is no way I am going to click on “Watch the psychology behind undecided voters.” I have the answer already. Dropped on head as child. I see the future! And it’s full of people running into doors, falling down, and doing it all over again. Maybe wire mother will be nicer to me this time!

In short: conservatives are paranoid that someone is out to get them (and then give their TV to a shiftless non-white teen mother), and liberals feel everyone else must be incredibly stupid. Gonna go lie down.

The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind

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After much prayer and consideration (used a cootie catcher), I realize that now is the time to speak up for principle, for the one man who can oppose the lunatic New World Order. For that reason, I encourage you all to write in Ron Paul tomorrow.

Oh, I kill me. Go on, Google “lunatic New World Order.” But I did dream about exploding building all night last night. I was in a high rise looking down while watching bombs fall in what was supposed to be New York but looked way more like Chicago. It was rather stressful, and between that and a child’s non-observance of “Fall Back,” I am on my last fraying nerve today. Let it be Wednesday morning already?

I mean, whoa, stuff be scary. There are McCain-Palin signs in Massachusetts! We skipped all those houses while trick-or-treating. I do not want their pizen candy! It is bad enough that I made the tone deaf mistake of dressing my kid in an elephant costume. What was I thinking?

There is even a McCain-Palin sign on the lawn next to our Democrat state rep’s house. Now, the rep has a bigger flag, so I see who wins this round. How does he refrain from getting up at 4 a.m. every day to go piss on that sign? Come to think of it, the grass was rather brown around the sign. We took pictures of ourselves being terrified by the sign. That sign was the scariest thing I saw all night, by a mile. The dad driving his kid from house to house was a close second. If you’re for McCain, fine, whatever. I could buy that we’d have done better under McCain than GWB had 2000 gone another way, but Palin? Really? America? You there? Don’t they make yard signs without her name on them?

I’ll be working on perfecting a macaroni and cheese recipe that is also fortified with benzodiazepines if you need me. I’m gonna be rich. I also have to call HAARP and have them engineer a ridiculous blizzard over Western Pennsylvania and selected parts of Florida. Don’t forget, me!!!!

Now is not the time to experiment with teh dumb

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Whoa, is that stabbing pain behind my collar bone, sort of in my chestal-throatal region a harbinger of a blood clot from my birth control pill, or is it just the first tickle of the rapture? Could it be due to my all-cake diet of the past week? Little bit stressful ’round these parts, let’s leave it at that.

I actually got a robocall from the McBain campaign last night. Me, little ol’ me! Did they not realize that I live in useless, useless Massachusetts and have a fine public record of only contributing to the slimiest liberals I can find? I do agree that the Democrats could have come up with a better slogan than “Country, ehhhh, maybe.” But I draw the line at air quotes anywhere near the topic of women’s health, dontcha know, gosh golly whangdoodle.

At any rate, I am happy to let the RNC waste money on me. I am not sure who signed me up, but now I get all the GOP mailings. Confidential to the person I signed up for NAMBLA: if it was you who signed me up as revenge, ha, I’m still glad I did it!

Thanks to everyone who has contributed to my link so far! I keep forgetting to shill this up, so this is a miracle.

I think Obama should use the rest of his money to buy up the rest of “Scrubs” airtime for the rest of the forseeable future. I don’t really care what he puts on in its place. Anything Ron Popeil-related would be fine.

Confidential to Joe the Plumber: we already *have* tax brackets, no? So yes, you were already going to pay more than someone who makes half of what you make. Life is difficult. Sure, I don’t like paying 35% myself, but I do like all the other awesome stuff that comes with making tons and tons of money*. IDK, IDGAF.

*I’m just role-playing. I don’t actually pay taxes thanks to a sinister network of clever nooks and crannies. Gold in my yard.

I saw the sign

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Recently, cure I was behind a small SUV on the interstate that appeared to be driverless. I was startled for a minute, recipe then nonplussed that I got left out of the rapture. As I passed, the driver popped up triumphant, holding a cellphone rescued from some nook or cranny.

Later in the drive, I passed a digital highway sign that read “TEST 1234,” then flashed to “BLAH BLAH BLAH.”

Then I stopped at the New Hampshire state liquor barn and bought my kid her first scratch ticket.

LOL and the art of financial planning

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Our retirement funds are only down 25%! We beat the market! Yay! Warren, look out. I will be the next secretary of the treasury. Or the navy. I always thought that would be fun. We are taking stock of our positions watching “Baby Mama” on OnDemand tonight. Mr. H is likely headed to a new job one of these days, so WTF do I do with the workplace-dependent retirement accounts? Roll lint and moths into an IRA with same brokerage and purchase exact same shares as 401(k), lie down with a hot water bottle and wait 30 years? I think that will work nicely. You got a better idea?

Now, my father ruined worrying about global financial crises for me twenty years ago, so please excuse my flippancy. It was 1987, and we were sitting in a McDonald’s, not too long after the October crash, and he said “You know, you’re not going to be able to eat hamburgers soon.” As I gummed my microwaved 49 cent burger, he went on to rail about what luxury I enjoyed, and how all this would come to a screeching halt, leaving us shooting claim jumpers in the streets and trading gold teeth for bread. We could lose our house, we could, oh hell, I forget the rest of the list. Trading cigarettes figured in at some point. I couldn’t eat without feeling nauseated for months. Now DEEP SHIT appears to be is HERE, and I am thrilled that I don’t have to worry anymore.

Oh! Oh! We were supposed to worry about nuclear power too.

I bet he’s gleefully grating Krugerrands to pay for groceries with gold dust. And hey, if it really turns out to be that bad, I’m going to move in with him and let my kid wake him up at 6 a.m. every. single. day.

Whip it, whip it good, President That One

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An unassuming but delicious salad from my childhood:

2 packs pistachio pudding mix
1 20 oz can crushed pineapple
1 tub of thawed Cool Whip
tiny marshmallows and chopped walnuts to taste

Gobble accordingly, my friends. My fellow Americans, I know how to make the salad. I know where to get the marshmallows.

I am so bringing this to Thanksgiving this year. People won’t know what hit them. They’ll wish they had healthcare that allowed mandatory screenings for AWESOME.

Timing is everything

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Dang, my kid is sucking on a toy made in China. I bet it is pure injection molded melamine, coated with lead. Luckily she has brain cells to spare. She can put her shoes on! She can memorize books and recite them while on her hind legs, like a little Rory Calhoun. She sees when I am sleeping, and wakes me the hell up.

We had a showing of the old Indian Burial Ground the other day, and the lady seemed to really like it. We baked cookies and posed seductively on the bed, sprinkled with dollar bills, saying “Here, take our money!” Take my house, please. Then wouldn’t you know there’s no credit left, so I would imagine she has a chance in hell of getting a mortgage. Is American Express going to stop buying me things too? I need to know! What about my dastardly scheme of getting 5% cash back and paying my bill in full every month? I hope they don’t see through that.

In order to ensure financial prosperity, I have been calling my representatives all day to remind them that provisions for scratch tickets and McDonald’s Monopoly game pieces for every man, woman, and child should be attached to any bills they happen to feel like passing. Park Place, you are my golden years strategerie!

And confidential to A. Cat, that $6 I spent on litter was just too much. You and I have a dinner date.

I had a dream

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In my dream, I was grocery shopping, and Sarah Palin was there defending herself against the newly exhumed fact that she did not graduate from high school (N.B.: this is in a dream, I ain’t be starting any rumors). Of course this led to her supporters showing up and chanting “Sarah Palin graduates! Sarah Palin graduates!” Now here’s the bummer: a rudimentary Google search shows that my dream is not even that original! Sigh. I want to do whatever common people do. Step it up, 90s loving subconscious.

We dragged a ybab to the great state of New Hampshire yesterday to see Barack Obama. Joe Biden didn’t come, and that was too bad, because a ybab was much better at pronouncing Joe Biden. I got my “Million MILFs for Obama”* t-shirt, and ybab chose an unlicensed Peanuts “Obama for Kids” button, and we installed ourselves on a grassy knoll to watch.

Hearing Obama in person was inspiring. He’s a phenomenal speaker, and the energy of the crowd was so comforting. We didn’t even see any hecklers, except for one random homeless couple. Who knew the homeless favor big business and trickle down economics?

I am beyond sick of hearing this campaign fought via spin in the media. I checked the Boston Globe for pictures of the event later in the afternoon, and of course there was a quote from Tucker Bounds at the end of the article (fair and balanced and all) saying that Obama campaigning with a hurricane going on was essentially despicable, and the “scathing personal attacks” were a new low. Huh? I was there, was Tucker Bounds? I missed the scathing, and usually I know from scathing. Trust me, I love scathing! And I am sure that Sarah Palin’s event in Nevada on the same day featured zero scathing remarks. Obama opened his speech with discussion of the hurricane situation, and he urged everyone to contribute to the American Red Cross.

My one wish is that people would review the positions put forth by candidates right from the websites of the individual candidates. I am weary of hearing facts come out crushed in a game of telephone, facts from friends and acquaintances who are normally very together people. It brings us all down. We can’t rely on sound bites and “Well, my friend read that…” We have unparalleled access to primary source information these days.

Let’s say you are worried about taxes? We should absolutely be worried about what the government intends to collect and how they want to spend it. Go read the Obama tax plan. It won’t take much longer than updating your fantasy Project Runway team (mine is doing really well, thank you!). There’s a link on that page to the full PDF, as well as a comparison chart. This is McCain’s tax policy. Do you see any mention of the poor or middle class? I don’t. Read, read, read. Make up your own mind on this one. We are all in this together as hard workers and people who want the best for our families.

If you are able to, please consider contributing to the Obama campaign via my financing link.

Now a ybab is awake, and I have to hear the story of how Mr. H converted a Republican in the checkout line by quoting actual facts. Not that it really matters, stupid electoral college.

*Apparently no one has printed this shirt yet. I am glad I fact-checked myself. And I call dibbs.

All the children are above average

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Large Hadron Collider, you’re our only hope! I am painting my “Antimatter #1” foam finger right now. Actually, a ybab is doing that. You might say “No, she is eating the tongue depressor with a sticker on it that she got at the doctor’s office this morning.” You’d be right.

My head did not split open and manifest a black hole during the pro-drilling commercial that was on during “Meet the Press” yesterday. The ad proudly proclaimed that we need more energy, and we are sitting on 60 years of oil! Sure, some of it may be under cute animals, but that is really their poor choice. Am I daring to stare into the face of God when I wonder what happens once 60 years are up? Oh well, I’ll be dead then, killed in the mutant crusades. The other thing I don’t get are all the big ups for compressed natural gas. Yes, cleaner burning energy, lovely. Do people think natural gas floats serenely above the surface of the earth, like Casper the Friendly Ghost? There is drilling involved, no? Some of the gas can be obtained as a by-product of existing land raping, and that’s an efficient thing to do. But some of these ads remind us, my fellow Americans, that we have a lot of shale. Let’s just drill several states off the map, yielding a need for smaller government indeed.

Speaking of being dead, I am turning 25 again in a few weeks. I am fit as a fiddle. I eat omega-3s by the fistful. I have the maturity to delete all the “Fwd: FWD: Fwd: FWD MUST READ THIS: Fwd: Fwd: FWD can you believe these clown’s: Fwd” emails that spew forth from the AOL accounts of elderly relatives. OK, I reply all with Snopes links once in a while, but only if I haven’t taken my omega-3s. In short, some people are still pretty sure that Barack Obama is going to win and then rip off his suit on inauguration day to reveal some loose and flattering Jihadist wear, ready for climbing monkey bars or flying a plane. He may or may not say “Gotcha, honkies.” There is an animated GIF that offers insight.

And speaking of looking at the face of God, I am getting in on some of that action. It’s working for a lot of people, so why not me? In fact, I am becoming a Republican too. I don’t want the federal government spending my money, now that you mention it, if is is going to continue spending it the way it has been. Maybe this states’ rights thing has legs. I’ll be waaaay over here, walking places and using reusable bags like a stupid jerk. Don’t worry, I can’t afford organic arugula anymore. It must be the fault of those tax and spend Democrats in the White Hou– what’s that you say? Oh.

Here in Depraved Massachusetts, Channel 7 interrupted Sarah Palin’s RNC speech to cut to a segment on the transsexual on the new season America’s Next Top Model. The anchor all but said “Well, that’s enough of THAT, let’s move on to the important things.” There really is a place for all of us, doing special work.

In short, up is down, Cylons are scary, white is still and will always be white, and I need to counteract the effects of Disgusting Massachusetts with some small town values [Daily Show clip]. Like fishing. And drinking. Oh yes, there will be drinking. Can you believe I wrote this mess sober? Ha!