Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory

Four score and seven months ago my forefather Dick Cheney shot some old guy in the face.  Well actually it was nine score and nine months ago but you see what I’m doing here.  So anyway, he shot that old guy in the face with a shot gun because he got in the way of his quail hunt.  Can you imagine what he would have done if that old man had been Donald Trump?

Now that I have established the Gettysburg Address connection let me spin out why I’m a lot like Abraham Lincoln.  First of all, both of us look better in a beard than without.  So that’s big.  Next, both of us lost a Congressional race.  How crazy is that?  If you think about it, you might call the resemblance miraculous, right?  And both of us successfully put down an insurrection against the United States government.  Well, I don’t know about you but that cinches the whole thing for me.

I plan on buying a stove pipe hat and running in 2024 for president under the slogan, “Government of the Cheneys, by the Cheneys and for the Cheneys shall not perish from the earth.”

Look, let’s face facts.  The Democrats will steal every election from now on.  You know it, I know it and the American people know it too.  If anyone objects, they’ll just toss him in prison and throw away the key.  So, if at least you have a few honest patriots like me in government we can retard ever so slightly the speed at which our way of life toboggans off the cliffs of insanity and thereby make the terror imaginable rather than unimaginable.  Now that sounds like a deal to me.

So today I highly resolve to dedicate a good chunk of my spare time to running for president.  Of course, I won’t win but I fully expect to pull something like fifty million USD into my campaign war chest and that should tide me over until I can figure out who I should shoot in the face.

So, in conclusion thanks to Nancy Pelosi, Adam Schiff and Merrick Garland for all the hard work setting up the January Sixth Committee.  Barking out lies and gross exaggerations has been the most fun I’ve had in Washington since I got here.  I finally understand why the Spanish Inquisition was such a big deal.  It’s because it was just so much darn fun.  Until you’ve seen the terror in the face of some poor schlub who really believed that he had freedom of speech and equal protection under the law, when we rip his life to shreds you haven’t lived.

Thanks to the over three dozen Wyomingites that voted for me.  And as for the rest of you that voted for my opponent, I know that Dick Cheney is loading up his shot gun and will personally shoot each and every one of you in the face, even if it takes him the rest of his unnatural life.

Good night, America!

I’m Calling Out This Charles Lipson Guy

Back on the 14th of May I wrote a post called “The Five Stages of Grief – Part 1.”  Now I see that some guy named Charles Lipson has a post up at some rag called “Newsweek” entitled “The Biden Administration’s Five Stages of Grief.”

In my post I said, “People say that the five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  I think I have detected these stages in news coverage of the Biden Administration.  The Left is grieving for the loss of Joe FDR Biden’s New Deal Moment, the Great Reset, the Build Back Better Rip-Off.  If you think back to last year I remember when prices started to rise and the headlines were full of denial.  Do you remember how they claimed that the Fourth of July cookout was something like $1.47 cheaper than the year before?  And then there was the meme about inflation being temporary.”

Now here’s something from Lipson’s post, “Take inflation. The former administration spokesperson, Jen Psaki, initially denied rising prices were a problem. When that became laughable, the administration reframed the problem as a temporary one.”

What the hell!  When I want to talk about an idea that someone else has written on, I always give attribution and cite the work and put a link back to the original article.  But this Lipson guy did none of these things.  What the hell!

I challenge you Charles Lipson, Professor Emeritus of Political Science, University of Chicago (if that is your real name!) to do the right thing and give attribution to Orion’s Cold Fire and apologize for your scurrilous behavior.  Have you no sense of decency sir?  Have you no shame, at last?  There you are at your fancy university in your la de dah city of Chicago taking the food out of Camera Girl’s mouth.  I challenge you to a debate.  Who is the greater pundit thee or me?

Well, I feel better now.  It’s good to get this thing off my chest.  Okay, let me go see what I can “borrow” from someone else now.

Mummy Envy

I found this tweet about a mummy in South America on my feed. But what made me laugh was a reply. Some guy said “Annoying that a 7000 year old corpse has more hair than me.”

IowaHawk Can Still Make Me Laugh

I followed David Burge back when his IowaHawk blog was trying to make us laugh during the Iraq War, a not trivial exercise.  Here Burge reveals his phobia of doll collectors.

He makes a fairly uncharitable but quite funny character judgement that I can’t help but laugh at.  Back when Obama was running for president the first time Burge had a very amusing parody of establishment Republicans falling over themselves to find the conservative case for voting for Obama.  His foil, T. Coddington Van Voorhees VII, was a transparent spoof of William F. Buckley Jr.’s son Christopher who infamously endorsed Obama for president while writing for the National Review.

Howie Carr Gloats at Impotent Rage of Boston Maskers

Howie Carr is one of a very few sane New England journalists.  He loves tweaking the Left in Boston.  I just had to quote from an article he posted mocking the anger and fear expressed by commenters on the Boston Globe over the judge ending air travel masking.

“I’ve had two vaccines, and two boosters, and have already booked my fifth, sixth and seventh shots. Whenever I step outside my mansion in Lincoln, which I haven’t done since February 2020, I wear 17 masks, all N95’s, but now I am terrified that I will be infected by a MAGA supporter in the tourist section of my next flight to Martha’s Vineyard. P.S. When will Trump be tried as a war criminal?”

Now obviously he’s exaggerating what he read in the Globe comments section.  But based on what I know of these people it’s pretty close to reality.

Kudos to Howie.

The History of Dunwich – Part 1 – It’s Annoying Origins

The origins of the site on which Dunwich sits are shrouded in mystery.  A mystery based on profound indifference and shoddy scholarship.  Legend claims that in the earliest epoch it was the Latrine of Yog Sothoth.  It is believed that the current stratum of bedrock is completely composed of metamorphized coprolite.  Professor Obadiah Bishop of Miskatonic University spent forty years of his academic career studying this coprolite formation and determined that it was almost entirely composed of triceratopsian dung formed from an exclusive diet of poison sumac.  This is thought to explain the funk that emanates from the ground, groundwater, crops and inhabitants of the present day site.  It is also believed to explain the almost constant, frenzied scratching that all Dunwichians indulge in.

The original human inhabitants of the area were members of the Pocnipnarrawampamuckutucs (sometimes shortened to the Muckutucs) tribe.  The Muckutucs were despised by the other tribes because they smelled awful, had thirteen fingers and two rows of teeth.

When the first European settlers arrived, they interbred with the Muckutucs and their descendants had twelve fingers.  Which was an improvement.  But no teeth.  Which was not.  Over time these anatomical oddities became the hallmark of the Dunwichian ancestry and somewhat explained their status as loathed outcasts and pariahs.  Suffice it to say that the rest of New England chose to avoid Dunwich like the plague.

But the American Revolution saw a change.  The patriotic fervor that swept through the rest of New England did not neglect Dunwich.  A company of stout Dunwichians headed up by “Captain” Nehemiah Hoadley marched east to reinforce the colonial army at Lexington.  But when the Boston regiment got a look at the Dunwich contingent approaching from the west, they abandoned their ambush of the British and blasted away at these toothless mutants, mowing them down to the last polydactylous humanoid soul.  After this Dunwich refused taxation by the US government until almost the time of the Civil War.

It was during the nineteenth century that the first truly disturbing events began to occur in and around Dunwich.  In 1824 on the site of Phineas Goodgroates’ orchard, a thousand ton, three-hundred-foot-long caste-iron cylinder fell out of the sky and flattened Phineas’s apple trees and because he was apple picking that day, flattened Phineas too.  This metallic meteor came to be known as the Codpiece of Cthulhu because of the inscription on its side identifying it as such.  The arrival of this piece of sartorial ironmongery was taken as an event of ill-omen.  Opinions varied, although with respect to Phineas all agreed it was definitely a bit of tough luck for him.

But by 1830 the populace had calmed down and normalcy reasserted itself until in the fall of that year when Caleb Sillwright’s turnip patch was similarly bombarded by the aptly named Moustache Comb of Azathoth.  At this point there were calls to abandon Dunwich altogether or at least to install some kind of gargantuan clothes rack above the town in the hope that the Elder Gods would take the hint and stop dropping their effects on Dunwich.  Luckily, cooler heads prevailed.

To be continued.

Biden Blames Putin for Gas Prices, Stagflation, COVID Crisis, Afghan Debacle, Crime Wave in Cities and Incontinence

Washington D.C. – American President Joseph Biden gave a hard hitting if somewhat confusing speech today in front of the Trade Union Delegation from Inner Outer Stanstanistan.  To the somewhat bemused pastoral herdsmen in their colorful native garb the animated but sometimes incoherent stateman was highly entertaining.  Of course, since the translator was speaking in Outer Inner Stanstanistanian they couldn’t understand anything he said.  But their spokesman was quoted as saying “we could tell he really meant whatever it was he was saying.”

After blaming every domestic and foreign policy debacle in his administration on the Russian strongman, Biden finished up the speech with an appeal for lower priced insulin that ended with him repeatedly striking the podium with his shoe.  This got a standing ovation from the herdsmen who remembered old video clips of Khrushchev at the UN that they had watched during lunch break in grammar school.  The emotional yak herders left the meeting chanting, “We will bury you, we will bury you” in fairly good Russian.

MSNBC reported that the speech is widely believed to be the talking points for the Democrat mid-term elections campaign platform.  Rachel Maddow explained, “We will blame everything on Putin.  Inflation, Putin.  Crime, Putin.  Biden’s flatulence, Putin.  There is even talk of finding footage of Putin standing on George Floyd’s neck whenever Chauvin needed to be spelled.  We drew the line at implicating him in the Kennedy assassination because Putin was eleven at the time and known to be a fairly poor shot with a rifle.”

Caught flat-footed by this new scheme Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell was quoted as saying, “Huh?”

After the speech a news team was sent out to a local gas station to do a man on the street interview with a consumer filling his gas tank.  After watching a clip from the speech, the motorist reached into his car and proceeded to brain the reporter with a baseball bat.  Police were called to the scene and after watching the video, they emptied the clips of their sidearms into the now motionless reporter and left.  The rest of the news crew beat a tactical retreat back to MSNBC where they suggested that the DNC might want to do a little more focus group workshopping of the idea.  But they stressed that heavy blunt objects and pointed and sharp-edged utensils be removed from the premises beforehand.

Later that night a medical emergency was declared at the White House.  During dinner when asked by Doctor Jill what he had done that day President Biden began to repeat the word Putin over and over in a continuous string; putinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputiputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputinputin!!!!!

When the doctors arrived, the president was diagnosed with a rare form of political Tourette’s syndrome.  It is now believed that for the rest of his life he will only be able to utter combinations of the two syllables pu and tin.  When questioned about this development White House Spokesperson Jen Psaki declared that this situation was Putin’s fault but that it would pose no real problem to President Biden continuing his present activities.  In fact, Psaki hinted that the new situation might actually make her job easier.

However, after hearing that the condition was permanent First Lady Doctor Jill packed her bag and left the White House with her secret service detail in tow.  She was quoted as saying, “That’s enough.  I’m out.”

Renewing Camera Girl’s Contract

I have often commented to Camera Girl that since people nowadays live enormously longer on average than people in the pre-modern era that the institution of marriage with its whole “’til death do us part” clause is behind the times and needs to be updated with more nuanced language.  However, I never say this when she’s holding a sharp knife.  She’s excitable.

But it’s fair to say that a fifty-year reevaluation event seems warranted.  We’ve got another five years before that milestone but I felt it was a good idea to start some preliminary exercises to determine if an emergency early intervention would be needed.

Today I went on an inspection to see how she was doing.  This morning when I came down for breakfast, I carefully examined the meal for signs of insufficiency or insincerity.  The scrambled eggs and pumpernickel bagel seemed up to snuff.  Check.  The breakfast conversation was satisfactory.  Check.  But the after-breakfast banter seemed to die away.  I was sitting in the living room working diligently on very important web site related work.  But there was none of the expected wifely encouraging, congratulatory pep talk that somehow, I think should have been there.  Maybe just a random “Let’s go photog!” thrown in every few minutes.  That seems reasonable.  Within a half hour my rage built up to the point where I actually got up and went into the kitchen to investigate this outrage.

Well, she probably heard me coming because she managed to throw up a smoke screen of cooking food.  As evidence she had a red sauce with meatballs on the stove and a pan of sausages in the oven and an Italian cheese cake under construction on the counter.  Well, okay.  Check, check, check.  She seemed to be busy.  Seemed!

I went back to the living room thinking furiously on what I had seen.  Well, the kids and grandkids were coming tomorrow for dinner.  I guess maybe cooking was a prerequisite for the meal.  Maybe it would be a little unreasonable for her to do all the cooking after I went to bed so as not to interfere with the very important wifely responsibilities of cheering on the king in his daily battles.  Could it be possible she was in the right?  Was it possible I was being selfish?  Me?  “I’m the Bad Guy?  How did that happen?”

Faced with this confusing thought, I retreated to first principles.  What would Ralph Kramden do?  Ah, that’s better.  Obviously, this pretend-hard-working act was a plot to undermine my sense of self-righteousness.  As such it qualified as disloyalty, the ultimate wifely sin.  Hah!  I knew it.  I’m the good guy.  I win again!

Well, once that had been worked out to my full satisfaction, I felt better and could afford to be magnanimous.  I went into the kitchen and patted her on the arm and praised her for the wonderful work she was doing.  This seemed to confuse her a little but she kept working and almost seemed to ignore my presence.  Well, sure.  Not everyone has my ability to multi-task.  I smiled tolerantly and made a silent benediction over her efforts.  A wise man once wrote that, “uneasy is the head that wears a crown.”  And so true it is.  I’m constantly employed providing guidance and useful advice on any number of things around here.  My inexhaustible supply of knowledge is always improving her efforts.  Noblesse oblige as the say.

I guess the outcome is I’ll let things lay for the next five years.  Sure, she tries to undermine my authority but she’s a hard-working member of the team and I like to reward effort.  Plus she’s related to my children and family is family.  Well done Camera Girl, well done.