Christ Weary, Part 1 (Personal History):
The Rude Pundit has been battling the religious right in one form or another for virtually his entire life:
When he was 10, his next-door neighbor was a little red-headed girl named Sarah who kept trying to get the Rude Pundit to go to church with her and get saved. Once, while jumping rope, Sarah said, "Don't you wanna feel holy?" To which the Rude Pundit replied, "The only thing 'holy' means to me is 'full of holes.'" Then Sarah took her jump rope and, oh, sweet purging pain, started to whip the Rude Pundit with it.

When he was in high school, one of the Rude Pundit's best friends was Paul, a football player, heavy metal lover, and dopester, rebelling against his fundamentalist parents. A year or so after high school, Paul was married with a kid, and he decided to give up the dope and get born again. "Isn't it great? I used to get high on pot, but Jesus fills that spot in my life," he said. To which the Rude Pundit replied, "What's the difference?" Paul was non-plussed. He talked about how he had thrown out all his Led Zep and Metallica and other music because it had led him down a demonic path. "Throw them out? Fuck, why didn't you give 'em to me?" asked the Rude Pundit. "Because they wrecked me and I didn't want them to wreck you," Paul said.

This list of stories could go on and on. From the groups who tried to block his entrance to seeing The Last Temptation of Christ to the Operation Rescue nuts who screamed in his face to other friends who tried to get the Rude Pundit to see the light, the Rude Pundit's been there, man. He's been prayed for, spit on, and told he's going to hell (as one ex-lover wept - she couldn't be with the Rude Pundit because he's gonna end up in hell 'cause he won't let Jesus save him). He's looked into their spinning eyes and seen the blind hate they mistake for love.

Oh, sure, as every good pundit needs to say who dares criticize Christians, there's been lots of positive experiences, like the gospel choir in Tennessee he was invited to see, like the Methodist wedding he attended in a forest chapel. But this is bullshit. It's the religious equivalent of "I Have Gay Friends" or "I Have Black Friends." Still, we're not talkin' about all religion here: we're talkin' evangelicals who have appropriated the word "Christian" to mean them and only them.

The Rude Pundit has seen them all their manifestations, all over the nation, from Eureka, California to Wichita, Kansas to Birmingham, Alabama to Boston, Massachusetts, and there's one thing he can tell you about the godly fundamentalists who have nothing but Jesus in their "hearts": they don't stop. Ever. And they won't until they're disbanded or win.

They are deluded motherfuckers, man, who would smile reading this because all they would think is that they know best because Jesus tells them so and then they'd feel sad that the Rude Pundit refuses to let Christ into his heart. But then they'd feel happy because Jesus is in their hearts. It's so fuckin' sweet.

They are plague rats, they are vile, they are poison. And when this ship of a nation finally goes down into the drink, they will be the first to abandon it while the rest of us stay and try to salvage the wreck.

Tomorrow: Tim Russert and his polarized "panel" on "moral values" on Meet the Press this past Sunday, and the need to sodomize Jerry Falwell. Repeatedly. (For early reading, check out the two parts on the Meet the Press confrontation over at BlondeSense.)

And feel free to send in your own story of your battles with the righteous. We'll throw them up here on Friday. E-mail your tale to rudepundit@yahoo.com.

A Couple of Things Noted Briefly:
On Voter Fraud in Ohio and Elsewhere (U.S. Version) -- As we watch the legal wrangling over Ohio's suspicious voting irregularities, as well as debates about statistics and e-voting, and on and on, the Rude Pundit has one question: can anyone give an example cited in "mainstream" press sources of an electronic voting machine overtallying in John Kerry's favor? Or a statistical anomaly in Kerry's favor? Or something that would show the problem is the system itself and not just a bias in Bush's favor? And, statisticians, what's the likelihood that every "error" would result in more votes for Bush?

On Voter Fraud (International Version) -- The comparisons between the Bush administration's insistence on the need for clean, open elections in Ukraine and their dismissal of any allegations of irregularities in the U.S. are bizarro and interesting. Perhaps more relevant is the comparison of the Bush administration's positive reaction to the Kiev demonstrations and the support for what will inevitably be tainted elections in Iraq. So let's get this straight: many in the Iraqi political spectrum want to postpone elections to assure a fair vote, but, fuck fairness and legitimacy, let's just vote and let Allah sort it out. Damn, some abiding principles we live by in the U.S.A., huh?


A Tyranny of Motherfuckers (Part of the "We Are So Fucked" Series):
Speaker of the House of Representatives Dennis Hastert is a fat man. No, wait. That's an understatement. He is a huge, obese, wheezing hulk of a lard balloon. The 13th century Iranian poet Sa'di wrote of such overwhelming blubber, "The gluttonous man bears the weight of his corpulence; if he obtains not food, he bears the weight of grief. It is better that the stomach should be empty than the mind." Corpulence, at various times in Western history, has meant sin, greed, lustful appetites. Maxim Gorky, in his book Mother, wrote, "They glut themselves to corpulence, to vomiting—the servants of the devil of greed." To be such a fat fuck is a sad, sad thing, as Hastert must know. If one must reach around one's belly in order to grab one's cock, to piss, to jack off, to present it to hookers, then one will become a bitter, angry man, evincing power in other ways.

So, back in November 2003, Hastert made a speech at the Library of Congress, on the role of the Speaker of the House, listing guiding principles that a person of such power. Among his principles, like "respect the power of regular order" and "never forget who sent you to Congress in the first place: your consituents," is this, Denny's Fifth Principle of Speakering: "Please the majority of the majority. On occasion, a particular issue might excite a majority made up mostly of the minority. Campaign finance is a particularly good example of this phenomenon. The job of Speaker is not to expedite legislation that runs counter to the wishes of the majority of his majority . . I was not going to abandon my party’s position under any circumstances. On each piece of legislation, I actively seek to bring our party together. I do not feel comfortable scheduling any controversial legislation unless I know we have the votes on our side first."

Now, here we are, one year later, the conservatives flush with hubris and power, and principle has become policy. Hastert now says he simply will not allow bills, negotiated without the participation of House Democrats and with the Senate, to come to a vote unless "a majority of the majority" supports it. So, like, with, say, the intelligence "reform" act, supported by a large minority of the majority, a majority of the minority, the Senate, the public, and (at least through lip service) the President, it will not come to a vote. In things legislative, then, as in the executive, there is no longer a democracy. There is a tyranny of motherfuckers - unless the batshit insane nutzoids on the fringes of American politics agree, there will be no legislation passed. Simply put, nobody else matters now. Not the moderates in the Republican party, not the Democrats (who now have absolutely no power in the House), not even the President. There is no coalition, there is no compromise, nothing. Go fuck yourself. Motherfuckers on the right wanna get paid, bitches, and they will get paid, Fat Denny has essentially said.

Just for shits and giggles, because every once in a while it's nice to pause and remember when such things had meaning, here's the oath of office every member of the House of Representatives has to take: "I, (name of Member), do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign or domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God." Do you notice there the adherence to the Constitution, not to elected leaders? To ideas over politics? Denny doesn't.

And, just for even bigger shits and giggles, here's a line or two from the Code of Ethics for Government Service, affirmed by the House in 1958: "Any person in Government service should . . . Put loyalty to the highest moral principals and to country above loyalty to Government persons, party, or department . . . Make no private promises of any kind binding upon the duties of office, since a Government employee has no private word which can be binding on public duty . . . Uphold these principles, ever conscious that public office is a public trust." Really, and, c'mon, it's more quaint than the Geneva Conventions. Hastert has said that loyalty to party is more important than anything else. We are the United States of the Majority of the Majority.

There's a history lesson here: back a century ago, from 1903-1911, Joseph "Uncle Joe" Cannon, a Republican from Illinois, was Speaker of the House, and he led the Rules Committee to give himself (and the Speaker's position) an incredible amount of power, over committee assignments, legislation, and seating position at the cafeteria (no one wanted to sit next to Phineas "Pharty" McDaniel from Boston). Uncle Joe was such a dominating figure in American politics that his iron-fisted rule became known as "Cannonism." As Ronald Peters writes, "Cannon's position was not simply that the majority party should govern, but really that the majority of the majority party should govern." Cannon was a skinny man, severe looking, and he could compromise on some legislation, but mostly he was considered a tyrant (although a well-liked tyrant, like a fuzzy Mussolini doll). Cannon polarized the electorate, and his rule of the House became an issue for the Democrats, using his trampling of their rights as members in their campaigns for office. They also joined with moderate Republicans to change rules and eventually win back the House, driving Cannon out. Power shifted to the Majority Leader in the case of committee assignments, which, as we now know, was like saying you'd rather have your eyes pecked out by crows instead of buzzards.

So here is where we stand: every law, every budget, everything that passes through the chilled halls of the Congress must succeed because of a litmus test. The fat man has gotten his way. It's no longer the tyranny of the majority. It's the tyranny of perhaps 30% of the House of Representatives over every single one of us.


Oh, sweet Jesus, we are stuffed in America, this day after Thanksgiving (except, you know, for those in such poverty that they are forced to go hungry no matter what fucking celebration of fatness occurs, but, hey, for the sake of the entry here, let's not quibble with the forgotten). Yeah, man, we shoved so much turkey, pie, stuffing, and a leaf or two of "salad" into our gaping maws that we thought we'd push the shit right out of our colons. Our gullets are so brimming with holiday goo that if we were certain kinds of birds, we'd be vomiting up our insides.

And now, day after Thanksgiving, motherfuckers, it's time to stuff ourselves again, headin' out to the malls, the Toys R Useseses, the Marts of Wal, goddamn Macy's (and its yearly "fuck you" to the departed Gimbel's), yee-haa, it's American shopping season, and it's our fuckin' birth goddamned right to be able to spend our enormous fistfuls of tax cut dollars on shit. Fuck Darfur. Fuck Mosul. Fuck France, just for the hell of it. It's Chrismas time, and the media are stuffed to the brim with stories of shoppers leaving their Thanksgiving tables with the desiccated turkey still warm to get in line at K-Mart so they can be first to rush through the aisles and get that goddamn discount DVD player or whatever. And then there's the occasional bone thrown to those for whom a soup bone would be bounty in the form of a local news story about some poor fucker who can't afford to shop or about some family whose soldier son or daughter is over in the shit in Iraqistan. Or died there. But then it's back to the mall, bitches, back to the malls. Hell, the media even offer shopping tips because, shit, this is supposed to be a big, big, year, motherfuckers, so get out there and shop.

And back in D.C., the conservatives in Congress are so stuffed with giddy power that they're cashing in checks on the asses of those they perceive as powerless, even in their own party. And the White House, vomiting forth its self-evident crush of power . . . but, shit, it's the Friday after Thanksgiving, innit? And there's this car stereo at Best Buy the Rude Pundit's had his eye on . . .


Thanksgiving - A Chance To Say, "Fuck the Church, Pass the Gravy":
Sure, sure, the act of "thanksgiving" is a religious thing, but the American Thanksgiving holiday is our greatest secular holiday. Sure, sure, we imbue it with various religious meanings, we may even pray over our meals, but, in the end, those are accessories to the ball gown of the holiday: it's just about community, us, in whatever community we decide to take part in - face-stuffing family, homeless shelter, football watchers at Hooters. In this time of frayed nerves, frayed states, frayed nations, the threads just a child's pull away from the fabric falling to pieces, let's remember that this holiday offers the redemptive hope of community. Like so many things in this life, it is illusory, but every once in a while it's okay to fantasize about something utopian.

(And then let's remember the first sucker of the American dream, Squanto, the Wampanoag guide without whom the Pilgrims would have been squatting in dirt hovels, dehydrating, starving, and shaken to death by disease. Thankfully he died in 1622 so he didn't have to see the destruction he helped bring to his people, to the land.)

Excerpted from the Iroquois, here's something of a prayer for the day:
Now the time has come!
Hear us, Lord of the Sky!
We are here to speak the truth,
for you do not hear lies,
We are your children, Lord of the Sky.

Now in the beginning of all things
You provided that we inherit your creation
You said: I shall make the earth
on which people shall live
And they shall look to the earth as their mother
And they shall say, "It is she who supports us."
You said that we should always be thankful
For our earth and for each other
So it is that we are gathered here
We are your children, Lord of the Sky.

Now again the smoke rises
And again we offer prayers
You said that food should be placed beside us
And it should be ours in exchange for our labor.
You thought that ours should be a world
where green grass of many kinds should grow
You said that some should be medicines
And that one should be Ona'o
the sacred food, our sister corn
You gave to her two clinging sisters
beautiful Oa'geta, our sister beans
and bountiful Nyo'sowane, our sister squash
The three sacred sisters; they who sustain us.

This is what you thought, Lord of the Sky.
Thus did you think to provide for us
And you ordered that when the warm season comes,
That we should see the return of life
And remember you, and be thankful,
and gather here by the sacred fire.
So now again the smoke arises
We the people offer our prayers
We speak to you through the rising smoke
We are thankful, Lord of the Sky.

Take this and, as you should with all prayers, place it in a bunch of contexts - in yours, in the nation's, in Iraq's, on and on, praying that we know how to be thankful, praying that we know how to be thankful anymore.


Why Bill O'Reilly Ought To Be Sodomized With a Microphone (Part 929):
Here's O'Reilly, Fox "News" radio and television host and a man who likes the gentle massage of a vibrator on his prostate until it brings him to ululations of glee, on his Radio Factor on November 17, talking about the organization Human Rights Watch: "They're very shadowy -- they don't tell you where their money comes from. But we have investigated," and then proceeded to smear HRW with an "investigation" seemingly into the organization's website, which freely thanks its large donors, like the Soros Foundation and the Carnegie Endowment. That's all well and good for the afternoon for O'Reilly - Human Rights Watch, busily calling attention to the depravities around the world, especially the Sudan, is "shadowy," like the KGB. But that evening, on The O'Reilly Factor on TV, who does O'Reilly have on to talk about the video of the Marine shooting a wounded Iraqi prisoner? Why, look, it's Kenneth Roth, executive director of Human Rights Watch, who O'Reilly calls "a stand-up guy." Hmm, you might ponder, can a "shadowy" group be led by a "stand-up guy"? Contradiction, you might think. Hypocrisy, you might suspect. But then you wouldn't be Bill O'Reilly, a man who never let little things like evidence, facts, and his own words get in the way of his desire to act like a beaver on meth, crazily gnawing everything in his path to create a dam for his river of bullshit.

As Roth, who's been working on human rights issues for over two decades, attempted to describe how the Marine's execution of the prisoner was a war crime, O'Reilly kept interrupting with "You would injure this young Marine?" or "You think the Marine made it up?" O'Reilly then pulled out the bully card to this upstart, this humanistic Hebe, who deigned to try to tell O'Reilly about the rule of "law" and the vicissitudes of "combat," when O'Reilly spouted, "We have millions of people watching right now . . . Millions of people. And I will submit to you that 90 percent of the millions of people all over the world agree with me and not you . . . So who is being unreasonable here?" And with that, any illusion of "dialogue" was effectively ended. The majority likes its war bloody and vindictvie, goddamnit. Even as Roth attempted to explain that we follow things like the Geneva Conventions because we don't want the same shit to happen to our soldiers, O'Reilly dismissed the "stand-up guy," who really just was O'Reilly's fuck puppet for the evening, a chance for O'Reilly to scratch and scream and pretend to "knowledge" and "morality," and, really, and c'mon, all we can think when we see O'Reilly now is his saggy man boobs and dropped scrotum masking his tiny cock as he steps into a shower, loofah in his hand, rubbing the tits and pussy of a female employee, intoning, "90 percent of the folks trust me, 90 percent of the folks trust me, so should you, so should you."


America, the Stupid (Part of the "We Are So Fucked" Series):
So there's a picture of our President, the leader of the free world, master of all he surveys, meanest motherfucker ever to voluntarily be part of a human pyramid, at the Asia-Pacific Economic Conference, standing among Prime Ministers and Presidents, looking like nothing so much as Jed Clampett after a little too much moonshine and 'coon jerky, apparently with his fly open. Sweet Christ. Holy wardrobe malfunction. Will Karl Rove blame the tailor again? You know, this is what happens when Bush is in the backroom, jacking off in front of the TV to images of himself yanking his Secret Service agent from a fray with Chilean security, beatin' that meat crazy as he listens to commentators talk about what a goddamn cowboy he is, ejaculating at his own smirk as he straightens his cuffs on the video and thinks, "Sovereignty? Who needs Chile's bullshit sovereignty?" Laura averted her eyes as he screamed, "Yee-haa, take my New England chowder, assholos," and then he giggled so hard at his faux Spanish that he forgot to zip back up.

Yeah, man, it's another red state/blue state divide. The blue staters will look at the unzipped fly and say, "See? That's the real man - the idiot, the dolt, the child." Red staters'll see the Melee in Chile and say, "See? That's the real man - the cowboy, the fighter, the savior." Rush Limbaugh was all a-twitter yesterday, saying, "He didn't stand around on the sidelines and just watch it and see how it played out. He just took action. I thought it was great, too. I think it is a tremendously illuminating story," as if Bush's fear of being without his security bubble, of basically being a punk-ass bitch demanding his way so he can feel safe, somehow indicates Bush's resolve rather than his cowardice. Hence the cancelled state dinner at the summit because for some reason Vladimir Putin and Junichiro Koizumi refused to pass through metal detectors and risk a frisking, as the Secret Service demanded.

America is a stupid country, getting stupider all the time. To believe even for a moment that Bush was doing anything other than panicking by grabbing agent Nick Trotta out of his confrontation is to be willfully blind, but we know, we know, god, how we know how willfully blind the majority of the country is to the actual demi-man behind the old gunfighter facade. But now, with new polls out, we get to see how actually stupid America is (and "stupid" is not used in any metaphoric sense - the Rude Pundit means "stupid," as in "ignorant" and "fucking idiotic" and "retarded"). The latest New York Times/CBS poll says that the majority, 56% of those polled, are "optimistic" about the next four years under Bush; in this case, "optimistic" might mean "I won't die," but more likely, one might believe, it means that the optimists believe that the Bush administration won't do everything in its power to wreck civil rights, destroy Social Security, and abandon all but the wealthiest Americans.

Ahh, but here's the problem. The "optimists" don't actually believe those things. 'Cause, like, 48% believe that Bush's next four years will "divide Americans" while only 40% believe that it will unite us as one nation under George. 54% believe the economy is headed in the "wrong direction," and 52% are "uneasy" with Bush's ability to make the "right economic decisions." 48% don't believe we were right to go into Iraq, 51% are uneasy with Bush's ability to "deal wisely with international crises," 51% don't believe Iraq is even a minor part of the "war on terror," 67% believe that reducing the deficit is more important than cutting taxes, 66% believe that corporations have too much influence on the Bush administration, and on and on and on. A CNN/Gallup poll has many of the same results. In other words, on many, many issues, at least part of the optimists believe in things that are directly opposite the beliefs and policies of the Bush adminstration, who a majority of the country voted back into office. And that's one big reason why America is now, officially, a drooling stroke victim of a country. Sure, the stroke victim might not like how rough the nurse at the home is when she changes his diaper, but she sure is pretty.

And then, of course, there are those things that are so demonstrably stupid, that they defy reason. This is idiocy that crosses the red/blue lines, that unifies us as a bunch of fucking fools. How dumb does a nation have to be so that in a poll, 55% believe that "God" created humans in their present form? How many morons does it take to wreck a country when two-thirds believe that creationism ought to be taught alongside evolution in schools? (Let's get this straight so that we can teach the stupid: "1+1=2" is a theory, too - does anyone doubt it?)

So we're a nation who embraces our costume cowboy President even though we don't like anything he does and we think that decades of scientific study and demonstrable proof is bullshit in the face of a book or two of faith. Somewhere, the lonely soul of Benjamin Franklin is wondering if he should have bothered at all.

(Photo of George unzipped originally seen at Eschaton; thanks to astute reader Nick for the tip on the evolution/creation poll.)


America: We Are So Fucked (Part 1):
So the Congress passed its 3300-page omnibus spending bill (rhymes with "ominous, offending Hill") and, boy, wasn't everyone just sooo surprised to find out, tucked between cuts in Americorps and funds for abstinence only education programs in Waynesboro, PA, and funds for "beaver management" in Wisconsin (hire the Rude Pundit - he'll "manage" those beavers) was a provision that would have said the chairs of the Appropriations Committees and their "agents" have the right to look at anyone's tax return, yours, mine, George Soros's. Faster than you can say, "Hominah, hominah," the Republicans said, no, no, it's a mistake, we don't know how it got in there, but, seriously, you can trust us. Senate Appropriations Committee Chair Ted "Take My Forests, Please" Stevens of Alaska said that neither he nor his house counterpart, Bill Young, would ever use such a new superpower for evil. "I would hope that the Senate would take my word. I don't think I have ever broken my word to any member of the Senate," the Senator whined, and somewhere in the chamber, Orrin Hatch shed a silent tear, for he remembered when Stevens broke the most important word to him: love.

So, bottom line: it was all a mistake, a misread of language that actually would not allow access to tax returns, put in there by the IRS, but, anyways, really, the chairs just want the same power as other committee chairs, so, be assured, if no one had caught it and the President had signed it into law, hey, no biggie, we're good guys here, and if you have a problem with it and want to investigate, you can go fuck yourself.

This is the kind of bullshit that gets in during the "conference committee" when House and Senate "negotiators" are supposed to reconcile differences in similar legislation. Instead, what happens is a gigantic Republican fuckfest, where a couple of complicit Democrats are allowed to take part as lobbyists bend over and let the members of Congress take cash out of their assholes while jerking themselves off. As Pete Dominici said of when the passed energy bill that wasn't to his liking, "I will rewrite the bill" in conference committee. What's actually passed is a concept. And in a massive bill, the rewrite is what matters. Sure, the Congress votes on the reconciled bill, but the vote is called so quickly that no one has time to read it. One is supposed to assume that the members in committee act "honorably," and oh, what a mistake that is.

Imagine all the things that could be tucked into a foot-wide bill: A new law that commands Hillary Clinton to give head to a different Republican member of Congress every day. The Ted Kennedy Pantsless Rider. The Let's-Hobble-John-McCain Rule. The Ranking Democrat On the House Ways and Means Committee must change Jim Bunning's diaper. Oh, what fun those Republicans have, ripping away at the fabric of democracy, rolling up the Constitution to fuck Nancy Pelosi with it (which is another new law).

The other egregious example of what was placed into the bill by conservative Congressional crazies in conference is a change in law that prevents funds from going to governmental agencies that act against health care providers or insurers who refuse to provide abortions for their patients and/or customers. No debate, and little press coverage because, you know, there was a brawl at a basketball game (oh, pity the children of Detroit). It was passed without debate in the House and never even brought up in the Senate, but it was negotiated into the "reconciliation" bill and forced down the throats of the quiescent Senate. It's a motherfucker of a rule, one that masks itself as being about conscience but is really all about giving back to the religious right, which has given so much to the end days of democracy. As Nancy Pelosi put it, "If a hospital, health insurance company, or doctor opposes Roe v. Wade, they could simply ignore it. Ignore it. This is the law of the land. A Constitutional right could simply be ignored." (The rest of Pelosi's statement is quite compelling and frightening and worth a read.)

It's all fucking funny. It's goddamned hilarious. The "debate" on and passage of legislation is a game, a facade, a show because, in the end, the real bill is created in conference, and the minority and moderates can kiss the asses of the conservatives who will cram that fucker full to bursting with every ideological tidbit and every scrap of pork they can. But how about this for retaliation: filibuster everything, every bill, every nomination, every rule, until there is a guarantee, written in Tom DeLay's black blood, stamped with Dennis Hastert's fat, stapled to Bill Frist's forehead, that law will not be made, legislation will not be "rewritten" in "conference" committee while reconciling bills. That there will be no bullshit like this. Sure, it's a dangerous move for Democrats and uncowed "moderate" Republicans, but it can be spun using the taxpayer privacy violation law as an example to the blind public. It's a chance to stand up and say that while secrecy rules in the executive branch, it must not become the way for the legislative. Open up the closed doors. Christ, almighty, let some sunshine in, or, really, truly, we are so fucked.


Why Ann Coulter Is a Cunt (Part 709 of an endless series):
What an orgasm of glee is going on in the mad minds of conservatives as they use the left's anger at the appointment of Condoleeza Rice as Secretary of State. See, some editorial cartoons, including Doonesbury, use her blackness to parody her. 'Course, the Gary Trudeau strip is from April and is actually mocking George Bush, but that hasn't stopped the conservative International Women's Forum (motto: "We Love Hot Jizz From Conservative Cock Cascading Down Our Thrusting Thighs") from "condemning" the panels and strips. It's an amazing smoke screen, you know, because, see, as the talking points become all about how to hate Rice is to make you racist, Rice's crimes and incompetence can fade into the background. (We'll deal with that next week in the series, "America: We Are So Fucked.")

Which leads us to Ann Coulter, columnist (if by "columnist," you mean "one whose deranged scrawlings are embraced by sexually repressed apes who ache to shove their unholy crucifixes of love between long, lithe legs"), who, when she appeared on the Fox "News" program Hannity Anally Violates Colmes, accused anyone who would dare question Rice's credentials of being "racist." Intoned Coulter to Democratic strategist Bob Beckel, "I understand why you are so terrified of letting us point out what racists the Democrats are and how they have a big problem with black women." Coulter then threw in that because liberals opposed both Rice and Clarence "You Need Another Shoe Shine, Mistah Scalia?" Thomas, they must be racist. Logic might dictate that opposition to Rice and Thomas actually demonstrates an ability to look beyond race, that color doesn't matter if your views are radical or your actions are pathetic. But you would be living in a world in which logic is an answer to batshit insanity, and that is not Coulter's, nor, indeed, the rest of the right's world.

So this goes out to all the Rude Pundit's bitches who are so supportive of Condi, including Coulter and the IWF: Condoleeza Rice is a house negro, one that's allowed to use the front door of the White House because she's been so loyal to Massa Bush and Overseer Cheney. She's gonna be a good girl, 'cause the second she steps out of line, she'll be sent back to the fields to pick cotton with the rest of 'em.

Speaking of . . .
Here's where tragedy becomes farce.
The Right Monkey At the Right Anchor Desk At the Right Time:
Every once in a while, in the mire and muck and shit that comprise the news networks, someone takes a stand and says and/or does something honorable. No, this isn't about Keith Olbermann, who is going at the story of our fucked up election process with the savagery and tightened jaws of a police dog on a trespassing black teenager, actually behaving like a newsman, in that he believes in the public's right to know. But we'll spend some more time with Keith at a later date.

This time, the Rude Pundit is referring to Olbermann's MSNBC host, Dan Abrams. Generally, Abrams' show is filthy with Laci and Kobe. Sure, it is a program about "legal issues," but, really, and, c'mon, let's be honest: it's a chance to focus in on gratuitously over-reported crimes and exploit them to the hilt. Except when it isn't. In a rare moment of - dare the word be spoken? - integrity, Abrams took a moment from polling us about what we would have named Laci's dead fetus and addressed the subject of punditry in his "Closing Argument" editorial this past Tuesday. Said Abrams, "I'm so tired of hearing lawyers on TV saying something like, while all the talking heads and pundits were saying X, I was saying Y. And what are you? Are you not a talking head or a pundit? We see the same thing from news hosts and analysts, members of the media who attack the—quote—'elite media', the amorphous unidentified evil doing symbol of debauchery and bias."

Then, in a slam at Fox "News" hosts Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, and others, Abrams explained, "When you hear a media figure attack or snidely remark about the elite media, ask yourself, is this person really part of the blue-collar media? Is his or her salary about what mine is? Can he or she really understand what I have to endure or is this just a faux populist charade? Most of the time it is an effort by some to pretend that they are different, that they are just average Joes fighting for the little guy. It's like a lifelong politician accusing his or her opponent of engaging in politics as usual." Abrams ended with, "I regularly criticize certain lawyers and TV hosts, but I don't try to pretend that I'm not one of them. I'm going to be straight about it. I'm a member of the media and I'm a lawyer, two of the most hated professions around. I am what I am."

Every once in a while, you look into the cage at the zoo, and some random baboon has taken its own shit and used it to draw something that Picasso would be proud of. You can pause and admire for a moment, but, in the end, it is just a monkey and a turd.


Oh, DeLay (Part 2):
The history of Tom DeLay's hometown, Sugar Land, Texas, like much of the history of the red states of America, is a tale of how the thriving, mostly white, Houston bedroom community was built on the bleeding, broken backs of slaves and convicts. East of the Brazos River, the place was originally a land grant plantation in 1828 that grew mostly (and then only) sugarcane. The Oakland Plantation was massive and contained hundreds of slaves to do the ridiculously labor-intensive work of harvesting the cane in the ridiculously impossible heat of the Texas sun, the air filled with the sickening stench of cane being boiled in the mill and processed in the refinery. When the Civil War ended, in order to keep the plantations going, the good white people of Sugar Land "leased" convicts from the state prison farms that sprung up in the area, 500 or so men. The brutal working conditions (remember: not only were these essentially slave laborers, but they were also being "punished") made the prisoners give Sugar Land the name "Hell Hole on the Brazos." The last cane was harvested in 1928, a century after it started. The town, however, was there to stay, and its refinery, owned by Imperial Sugar, became the central industry and more or less owned the town until about 1960, when it became its own hell hole which belched forth the bile-ridden bit of vomit known as Tom DeLay.

Tom DeLay's entire career in Washington and Texas has been twenty years of such vile depravity in the name of the people of Sugar Land that Hell has been tempted to call its own back. DeLay was elected Majority Whip a scant two years after he had been part of the House checking scandal, where a bunch of members of Congress, fat and loathsome from their own putrescent sense of privilege, knowingly wrote tons of bad checks that were cashed by the House Bank. DeLay was a relatively minor offender, with only $5300 overdrawn, which he admitted to, but blamed "gross mismanagement" of the House bank, not his own greed.

And, in a wave to Sugar Land's past, in 1994 DeLay effectively blocked legislation and even hearings on a textile factory on Saipan island, which imported labor from other countries, like the Philippines and China to make the material for clothes sold by JC Penney, the Gap, and others. The laborers were forced to use the company store, paid very little, and were kept, essentially, as slaves. DeLay called the factory, which the Clinton adminstration wanted to drag into the 20th century, a demonstration of the "free market" at work. Wined and dined on privately funded trips to Saipan, DeLay bloviated at a banquet there, "You are up against the forces of big labor and the radical left" in the United States.

DeLay is a pustule, an infected wart on the ass of the body politic. His entire reason for existence is to wreck and destroy any semblance of decency in a maniacal pursuit of power for power's sake. His associates shake down groups for major cash, like the $45 million billed to Indian tribes for lobbying and consulting by two DeLay cronies. Now, you think that money was paid because these guys were so good? Or because it bought access to DeLay?

Not only did the motherfucker set up the Texans for a Republican Majority PAC to funnel cash to candidates for the Texas legislature so DeLay could redraw the map of Texas's congressional districts like a degenerate meth addict in a rubber room alone with crayons, but here's the kicker on how actually, actively evil DeLay is, the reason that the non-white children of Sugar Land weep whenever they see the Hammer's picture because they know he has the potential to fuck them in their sleep: DeLay set up a charity for abused children in order to raise tons of soft money for Republican convention parties. The name of the charity? Celebrations for Children, Inc. The punchline? DeLay's pride in all the legislation he has shoved through the House in support of foster kids, which was always a slam against abortion rights, but now just seems like long-term cover for fiduciary abuse. Or maybe we'll just call it "hypocrisy," a high-falutin' word that follows DeLay around like Apostles followed Christ.

We haven't touched on Westar, his vicious blackmail and bribery for the vote of Rep. Nick Smith on the Medicare bill, and his routine habit of picking up underage black hookers, having them blow him in his limo, and then gutting them like brown trout from the Brazos at the Lincoln Memorial. God, how weary his bodyguards are of cleaning intestines off Lincoln's mighty throne and mulching the bodies of the whores for the Rose Garden fertilizer.

So, yesterday, when the House Republicans overturned the rule that says if a leader is indicted for a crime, he or she must step aside, at least temporarily, until cleared, the GOP said, "Fuck you" to ethics and a bigger "Fuck you" to anyone who would dare question the legality of the actions of its leaders (remember, DeLay might be indicted by a Democratic DA in Texas for the whole money-funneling thing). Remember, DeLay is a born-again Christian. Why does that matter? Because born-agains, especially powerful ones, get a pass from their constituents. You have accepted Christ, you say, and are therefore above reproach for his actions. In other words, if you love Jesus, it doesn't matter how many people you dick over - Jesus forgives, even as he weeps, Jesus forgives. And anyone who would dare question the works of the goodly, godly man of Sugar Land, why that's like a slave questioning his master. The slave can never be right. The master is always right.

The folk/blues legend Leadbelly was incarcerated at Sugar Land, at the Central State Prison Farm, in the 1920s. He wrote "Midnight Special" about the train that went through Sugar Land every night. If you dared cross the white people of Houston, Leadbelly wrote, "You can bet your bottom dollar/ That you're Sugar Land bound." And while we may not be toiling in the sun, reaping sugarcane with our wounded hands, with the House's actions and its embrace of its corrupt dog of a leader, we're all Sugar Land bound, the fucking Hell Hole into which law and order and fairness descend into meaninglessness.

(Tip of the rude hat to astute reader Derek for some of the info on Sugar Land.)
DeLay Delay:
The Rude Pundit will be back at around 1 p.m. with "Oh, DeLay (Part 2)," where we discover how the diseased history of Sugar Land affects us all. 'Til then, enjoy outgoing Education Secretary Rod Paige's reading of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, outgoing Commerce Secretary Don Evans rendition of "The Cowboy Night Before Christmas, and outgoing Ag Secretary Ann Veneman intoning the book Auntie Claus on the White House Christmas page. Oh, how we'll miss their cheer.


Oh, DeLay (Part 1):
A tale is told by the parents of the small group of non-whites in Sugar Land, Texas to their non-white children: if you awake in the middle of the night and hear a scratching on your window, do not open it, for it is not the tooth fairy or Santa Claus. It is Tom DeLay, come to fuck you in your bed, little children. Oh, sure, they use more charming words than "fuck," but the result is the same: Tom DeLay will penetrate and rape your tiny bodies and leave a dead roach on your pillows to prove he was there. That is the only way you will know what has happened to you, the dead roach. It will tell you all you need to know about why your ass is sore, wee ones. The story works - the children stay in their beds through the night. Yes, it's a terrifying image, even though, to this date, no one knows for sure if Tom DeLay has raped any black or Hispanic children in Sugar Land or anywhere else. But no one's saying he hasn't.

But would you really be surprised to find out that the nocturnal habits of Tom DeLay include routine child molestation? Here's a member of Congress (used in the perjorative sense) who lied under oath about not remembering he was the chairman of a company (right after, you know, leading the rampage against Bill Clinton for, you know, lying under oath). Said Houston attorney Gerald de Nico in 1999, "At the time of taking the deposition, the guy perjured himself. There is no doubt in my mind that the guy looked me in the eye and perjured himself." A filth-encrusted cock who halted a deal that would have allowed Clinton to be censured and for the nation to move on. DeLay's reasoning was an outright lie - that there was evidence of more crimes and that an impeachment trial was the only way to air them. Remember, good Americans, the nutzoids in the House wanted to drive Clinton to resignation. And the Hammer, the gay fuck nickname for DeLay, threatened to drive nails into the nuts of any Republican underling who did not madly rant in favor of impeachment. DeLay is a piece of shit, an odious worm, a "born again Christian" (in the batshit insane sense of the phrase) who has probably has fathered an illegitimate child who he then took in under foster care. And that's the fuckin' surface. We'll get to the truly horrible, avaricious nastiness tomorrow. (All of this info, by they way, is readily available on Lexis-Nexis, and it's all from the Houston Chronicle.)

And now, and now, so mad with power, so filled with loathing for the rule of law, the House Republicans are gonna change a rule that says if someone is, say, indicted by a state grand jury for, let's see, a fuckin' crime, that said person ought not be removed from a leadership position in the House. 'Cause, you see, get ready for the motherfuckin' punchline: the Texas grand jury that indicted three DeLay cohorts on charges they illegally funnelled corporate donations from DeLay's PAC to legislative races in Texas in order to accomplish DeLay's cherished redistricting, that grand jury and the Travis County DA are engaged in a partisan "witch hunt" against DeLay. Holy shit, that's funny, no? And you'd've thought DeLay would already be in jail for misusing the resources of the Department of Homeland Security to go after the on-the-lam Democratic legislators who protested the redistricting of Texas. But that wasn't a partisan exercise of power was it? DeLay was just ensuring the continuation of democracy, Hammer style.

You ever been to Sugar Land, Texas? It's a place where the churches are filled on Sunday with the godly men who then go to Hooters to get fucked-up drunk and watch titties and football. And it's like a thousand other places around the country where the hypocritical believe they are good and righteous even as their hate poisons the world around them.

Too disgusted. More tomorrow.


Colin Powell Is a Cunt:
Colin Powell is a black man who makes whites feel good about themselves because they can point to a black man they admire for reasons other than sports, music, or Denzel Washington. Because of that, many white liberals have given this high-yellow cunt a pass so they can continue to admire his glow, his sheen, if you will. Oh, how glorious he was, all black and proud at his press conferences and briefings during the Gulf War in 1991, a war he opposed but fought anyway. But what exactly has Colin Powell done other than stand there and look black and confident while lying and/or stating the obvious? The man is a hypocrite, a fraud, a failure, and the United States is worse off because we all had to watch and see this fucker gladly let the Bush Administration sodomize him again and again, so many rapes that he was deprogrammed from his own much-vaunted but little tested "pragmatism."

That's the so-called "Powell Doctrine," a "strategy" whose definition is so blatantly obvious that only warmongering murderers would believe otherwise. The Powell Doctrine says that, unlike in Vietnam, "military action should be used only as a last resort and only if there is a clear risk to national security by the intended target; the force, when used, should be overwhelming and disproportionate to the force used by the enemy; there must be strong support for the campaign by the general public; and there must be a clear exit strategy from the conflict in which the military is engaged." So let's get this straight: Powell said that we should only go to war when we need to and fight to win? Holy motherfuck, we've lowered the bar on what gets to be called a "doctrine." And, oh, so quaint, innit? Of course, some have always read it as a call to cowardice, a call to avoid conflict at all costs, a call to not worry about massacres elsewhere. But it's all lies and bullshit and a smokescreen.

You wanna get sick to your stomach? You wanna find out how low someone can fall, so low that sewer rats scamper across his scum-licking head? Here's Powell in 1992, after his great and mighty victory over Iraq: "We can examine the assertions of those who have asked why President Bush did not order our forces on to Baghdad after we had driven the Iraqi army out of Kuwait. We must assume that the political objective of such an order would have been capturing Saddam Hussein. Even if Hussein had waited for us to enter Baghdad, and even if we had been able to capture him, what purpose would it have served? And would serving that purpose have been worth the many more casualties that would have occurred? Would it have been worth the inevitable follow-up: major occupation forces in Iraq for years to come and a very expensive and complex American proconsulship in Baghdad? Fortunately for America, reasonable people at the time thought not. They still do." Feeling like vomiting? Even those of us who despise the mythos that has encircled Powell have got to shake our heads at how horrible his torture at the hands of Karl Rove must have been for him to sit there at the State Department and watch Donald Rumsfeld insist that a small force could do the job and listen to Wolfowitz and Perle blather on about easy victories. Rove must have tied him face down, ass in the air, as he was fucked again and again by a parade of neo-cons, only a mirror in front of his face showing who was next in line - Cheney, Bolton, Feith. All, all fucking him over and over to make sure that Powell was a good boy.

The Rude Pundit hopes Colin Powell spends the rest of this Iraq War, the rest of his life in agony. His life is not one of honor - it is one of complicity, of being the good soldier, of being the loyal house negro. He hopes that Powell curls fetal remembering My Lai and his own whitewashing of the massacre when he said, "In direct refutation of this portrayal [of the massacre of civilians] is the fact that relations between American soldiers and the Vietnamese people are excellent." The Rude Pundit hopes Powell shits himself remembering his lies around the Iran-Contra scandal, covering up for his boss Cap Weinberger. The Rude Pundit hopes that Powell screams in sweaty agony, remembering all the Bosnians "cleansed" by the Serbs when the Bosnians were begging for air support to protect them from Serb air attacks; Powell vehemently opposed U.S. involvement in saving the Bosnians.

But mostly the Rude Pundit hopes Powell's hell is that he has to re-live again and again his presentation before the U.N. Security Council in February 2003, when he may as well have painted his face darker and lips bigger and brighter like a good minstrel and shucked and jived for the world about the phantom threat posed by non-existent weapons, when he had the gall to call Hussein out on massacres and "ethnic cleansing." No, Powell may not have been able to stop the Iraq War, but he could have redeemed the nation in the eyes of the world by speaking the truth. Instead, Powell bears a great, huge amount of responsibility for everything that has happened since then, for Abu Ghraib, for the deaths of American soldiers, for starting a war without overwhelming force, without a clear objective, without an exit strategy. For so publicly demonstrating what a fool and liar he was.

And the achingly worst part was how much faith was put in Powell. As if he might come through for the America he thought was worth less than its leaders. As if he might, once in his life, have betrayed a superior by resigning before the election, when he might have redeemed his sad, murderous, lie-filled life by walking away from the vicious destruction that he enabled, by calling the truly evil what they are. But, no, he waited, until after his boss was re-elected, to be the good soldier to the end, to believe in the man above the nation, as he did his whole life, as every good nigger has ever done for his white masters.

Now he moves on, his bloody hands still filthy, having assured that the bloodshed would continue. Those who worshipped him must now face the truth: the mighty warrior is nothing more than a bitch, a cunt, a little lapdog for the powerful, a trophy, trotted out to impress the gullible. And you can be sure that when Powell writes his memoirs, he will say only that he did what was right, and he'll say that those he served were fine, fine Americans, just like him.
Late Post:
Back at 1 p.m. with "Colin Powell Is a Cunt." Until then, enjoy the spoils of war.


The Copulation of Powers:
So let's say, and why not, that you arrive at an orgy about two hours late. You've missed the drinks, the snacks, the drugs, the banal attempts at conversation about things other than fucking. Instead, you walk in and the orgy part of the orgy is in full swing - not the Bacchic part, but the straight out, gettin' down and dirty Dionysian part, when, in other words, everyone is already fucking. It's sad, really, standing there, quickly shrinking hard-on or drying juiciness, as you scan the room, looking for a spare orifice or unused penetrant and there's not a tongue to spare. Sure, you were even going to put aside your squeamishness about fucking someone of the same sex, but, alas, alas, there's nothing to be done - or, more approrpriately, no one. You thought the invitation said 2 a.m., but you guess it started at midnight. As you watch the myriad of anal dildo action, sixty-nines, straight cock on cunt fucking, rim jobs, multi-vibrator elastic butterflies, dongs of doom, and the high-level of difficulty trapezoidal foursome with bunny rabbit and fluffernutter, you think that you have three options: stand there in the midst of the groans, slurps, and hydraulic sounds and proudly jack off, hoping someone will notice; try to join into one of the groups in mid-fuck - maybe that couple in the corner where the guy is shoving a carrot up his ass while fucking the face of the other guy who is fondling his cock and stimulating his own sphincter with a cucumber (what's known colloquially as "really tossin' the salad") - and risk rejection or only grudging on-their-terms acceptance, always at a disadvantage, you know; or leave and take the long, teary ride home to the laptop lover. Either way, there's a whole lot of fuckin' goin' on tonight, and you're no longer invited.

The Republicans in power no longer believe in the separation of powers enshrined in the Constitution. As far as they are concerned, the Judiciary and the Legislative branches exist to affirm the will of the Executive, and that to do otherwise is to betray the nation itself at a time of "war." For instance, when outgoing Attorney General John "My Asshole Is So Tight I Shit Kite String" Ashcroft attacked the federal judiciary, he put it in terms of, surprise, surprise, national security: "The danger I see here is that intrusive judicial oversight and second-guessing of presidential determinations in these critical areas can put at risk the very security of our nation in a time of war." Ironically enough, one of the decisions that Ashcroft was so pissy about is the ruling by U.S. District Judge John Robertson that said the prisoners at Guantanamo might be able to be considered prisoners of war and therefore subject to the Geneva Convention, a status which still needed to be determined, said Robertson. So, following the bouncing ball of logic here, Ashcroft, a man to whom Cotton Mather would say, "Dude, lighten the fuck up," has his panties in a wad because at "a time of war," a judge has said that captured "fighters" might just be "prisoners of war." Or, put more simply, the judiciary should rubber stamp the policies of the President without any regard to existing law or its independent ability to rule. Or, even more simply, sit down and shut up, judgey.

Then there's the continued spanking of Arlen Specter, the "moderate" Republican who dared to suggest that Senate Judiciary Committee had a responsibility to consider the views of the judges sent for confirmation by the White House. Specter now faces the specter of losing out on the chair of that committee. When Bill Frist, noted cat eviscerator and Senate majority leader, said that Specter had to "prove" his loyalty to the President, Frist may as well have pulled a leash with Specter on the end of it and said, "Now, watch me smack these saggy liberal cheeks red. Say you like the spankin', Arlen. Say you like it, bitch." More frighteningly, Frist added that if he's chair, Specter "has a clear obligation … to take what the president nominates (and) get that nomination through committee." One might have thought that the job of the committee of the legislative branch is to give consideration to the nomination and decide whether or not the President's nominee is worthy of approval (or one might at least expect Frist to lie about the purpose of the committee). Instead, Frist has said that the job of the legislative branch is to offer its blanket approval to judges who will offer their blanket approval to the policies of the executive branch. Or that, now, the other two branches of government have no real role than ratification of the goodness and rightness of the executive. If you think otherwise, that the branches are supposed to, well, fuck, check and balance each other, then you are not living in a time of war. You have a September 10 mindset. (And, remember, we're not even talking about the Republicans' attitude towards even the chimera of an opposition party the Democrats are.)

Oh, sure, you could be a pussy and actually read the Constitution, which clearly delineates the independent and, implicitly, equal powers of the government. You could be someone who lives in the past and thinks that one reason why the separation of powers exists is because the Founders wanted to avoid the rise of an American despot with unchallenged authority (having, you know, fought a war over the right to self-rule). Hell, you might be some kind of history-educated poindexter who remembers that James Madison, back in 1789, wanted to add an amendment to the Constitution that explicitly laid out the separation of powers, "The powers delegated by this constitution, are appropriated to the departments to which they are respectively distributed: so that the legislative department shall never exercise the powers vested in the executive or judicial; nor the executive exercise the powers vested in the legislative or judicial; nor the judicial exercise the powers vested in the legislative or executive departments." You may know that the other Founders believed it was redundant: any idiot, they figured, would understand that that's what the Articles of the goddamn Constitution meant. See, if you know all this, then you know that right now the Republicans hate America - or, more precisely, they hate what America was founded upon.

The Republicans don't want a separation of powers any longer. They want a copulation of powers, one big orgy of the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial branches of the government. It's an orgy built around the worship of the great cock of the Executive. The Executive gets to fuck whatever the Executive wants - such is the privilege of being the President, "C'mere, Supreme Court, yer ass is lookin' so sweet today - pull up those robes and pull down those panties and let the President fuck that fine ass of yours. Hey, and while yer at it, eat out the cooz of the Congress so everyone's taken care of." As for the American public? You can either be part of the orgy or you can go fuck yourself.


Remembering the Act of Voting With Fondness:
When the Rude Pundit asked readers to send in their voting stories last week, the idea was that it was going to be a kind of celebration, not a wake. But, still, dozens of you sent stories, and as the mainstream and alternative media attempts to endlessly slap down any stories of vote fraud, here's a few of the ones that were sent in. Some will give you the warm fuzzy melancholy of lost hope; others will just make you smirk in recognition. Either way, it's a fantasy post here, about how we went to the polls, from sea to shining sea, and tried to change the world and failed:

From Lisa: "I live in Northern VA and was at the polling place at 5:55am and already about 100 people were in line before me. It took just about 35 minutes for the whole routine and it went very well and orderly. (Yes, we had the newfangled touch machines and old,very old, oh so old ladies too). The idiots behind me, while thankfully NOT advocating for Chimpy, were discussing the electoral vote pro and con at 6am. Way too early for me. I love my early am peace and quiet. I walked about a mile home and was very optimistic about the turnout.

"By the way, I hung a DEFEND AMERICA: DEFEAT BUSH sign on the outside of my cube Friday and someone stole it. I hung another saying that their actions did not speak well of either them or their candidate."

From Aaron in Ann Arbor: "As I got in line, a guy came up and asked me how long I thought the wait was going to be. I said, 'Well, four years so far.' There was laughter, but the guy just took off; I hope he was a Republican."

From Jinny in Atlanta: "This morning the line was wrapped around the church at 7:00am, I was in and out in just under an hour. The poll workers were on top of things and kept people moving and orderly. About half the poll workers were in festive African garb and treated us like unruly children at a birthday party. It was organized chaos. Coming out after voting a woman was sitting on top of her car playing the guitar and singing the Indigo Girls song 'Go,' changing 'go' to 'vote.' All in all a pretty cool experience."

From Adam in San Diego: "I voted in San Diego, CA this morning. For our wonderfully fun recall election earlier this year we used the miracle machines, which had innumerable problems. This year, they were ruled out and we're using pen and paper, and I couldn't be happier about it. Fill in the circle. Brilliance.

"No problems at all at my polling place with the new old technology. People in line commnued happily and exerted our mastery over paper and pen. Even the old, old, so horribly old poll workers from the previous elections had been replaced (including by one young, young, so beautifully young lady)."

From Melissa in Missouri: "I live in a small college town in Missouri. My polling place is located in a tiny annexed building next to the Methodist church. The poll worker greeted me by name (small town, remember?), went through the formality of checking my ID, and then I was handed my ballot. I walked into my polling place at 11:55 and was finished voting by noon. There were 4 booths available, and all were in use the whole time I was there. When my husband went to vote this morning, he said the line was out the door, so he went by the college to cancel his morning office hours and went back. The line had cleared by the time he got back, but he said there was a steady stream the whole time he was there too. For the first time ever, the college here has a polling place on campus for the students.

"We use paper ballots and big, black pencils to fill in ovals next to the candidate's names, and then we slide our ballots into a slot on a locked metal box. It doesn't get any better than that."

Here's Bozo from, well, Canada: "We recently underwent a federal election, an oh what a woeful tale. Upon arriving at my local polling station, I was promptly given my ballot, a pencil and directed to a large row of tables with cardboard dividers keeping out prying eyes. I marked my 'choice' (or non-choice as the case may be) with an X, folded the ballot as directed, and placed it in a large locked metal box. 2 hours after the polls closed, our federal government had been determined with nary a lawsuit or hanging chad to be seen."

For the record, the Rude Pundit doesn't think there's any evidence of a coordinated effort to steal the election. But, you know, would it fuckin' hurt anyone to do some recounts? In other words, other than costs (which would no doubt be picked up by donors), is there a reason not to recount? It's like if you tell your new lover you want him to get an HIV test before you'll let him fuck you anally. The only reason not to get tested is because he knows he's diseased and he doesn't want anyone to find out.


Tortured Logic (With a Side Note On the Necessity To Sodomize Bill O'Reilly With a Microphone):
Here's what we're reduced to in this long fart of an American autumn after the election: we get to be happy that the guy who feared marble breasts is gone and that the guy who thinks torture's okay is in as Attorney General. Remember Janet Reno? Remember how hated she was by so, so many on the right? So much so that to demonstrate her independence from the White House, she appointed Kenneth "Holy Shit, I Need To Get Laid" Starr to investigate President Clinton? Who, to show she was nobody's toady, she never halted the investigation, even when it had gone far, far afield of its purposes? Now, with Alberto Gonzales, a man for whom innocence is an irrelevant fact in death penalty cases, the right is praising his fealty to George Bush. And Bush his fealty to Gonzales, who once got the then-Governor out of Texas jury duty on a drunk driving case in order to avoid revealing Bush's own drunk driving record. How about this - instead of a nice, orderly Congressional hearing before the Senate Judiciary Committee, the good Senators get to strip Gonzales nude, put a hood on his head, force him to masturbate, and then attach electrodes to his flaccid genitals and put a leash and collar on his neck. Then, with Patrick Leahy on the switch, let the questioning commence.

We're reduced to arguing about whether or not it's legal to conduct secret military tribunals in which the defendants are not allowed access to the evidence against them. Said a yapping asshole puppet for the Bush administration about the judgement against them which stopped the Gitmo tribunals, "By conferring protected legal status under the Geneva Conventions on members of Al Qaeda, the judge has put terrorism on the same legal footing as legitimate methods of waging war." Okay, could we get our ducks in a row here? Are we at war with "terror" and doesn't that seem to imply "war" with terrorists? And if Iraqis use the methods of terrorism, like car bombings, suicide bombings, etc., does that mean that they don't get Geneva Convention protections? And what about our soldiers? But, again, this is what we're reduced to arguing - whether America has the responsibility to abide by the rules of civilization. 'Cause, see, we're not just talking the "quaint" Geneva Conventions here. We're talking habeas corpus here, and legal rights which go back before the fucking Magna Carta. Fuck it, the Bush administration says, and confirms with its selection of Gonzales for Attorney General. Rule of the jungle, motherfuckers. Grab a vine and swing through the trees or the leopards will get you.

Which brings us to Bill O'Reilly, fan of falafel, lover of loofah, patron of pussy, viceroy of the vibrator, and baron of big boobs (also a Fox "News" host). The last couple of nights, O'Reilly has been chowing on Bush administration cock like two fat guys racin' to finish their plates of moo shu pork before the lunch buffet closes at the Peking Palace. Here he is on the U.S. District Court decision against the military tribunals: "Another ruling by an activist judge that puts us all in danger," he said. Then, to impugn Clinton appointee Judge James Robertson, O'Reilly, engorged on his own misguided ability to connect dots, said that Robertson was the judge who denied the Bush administration's attempt to silence Moveon.org during the election and who threw out the tax fraud indictment against Whitewater figure Webster Hubble (decisions which some of us might call "common sense"). "Subsequently, Hubble did not testify, the Clintons were not prosecuted," O'Reilly defecated. On Gonzales, you'd've thought O'Reilly had been ordered to put on a sombrero and shove a chalupa up his ass for all his praise-heaping (which mostly had to do with the fact that Gonzales "agrees with me").

Here we are, oh, sweet America, in the midst of an identity crisis. Who's right? Are we torturers with little or no regard for the rights of those we believe evil? Do we have any abiding principles anymore other than the accretion of power and influence and domination? Or are we who we mythically aspire to be, a people who value liberty and equality? God, what lies, what lies we must tell ourselves so we can sleep at night.
Dead Arafat:
All we need is dead Sharon, and we'll have the perfect image: two lifelong enemies, falling down a bottomless pit, wrestling each other for eternity, like a viper and a vulture. Fuck 'em both.

Back at 1 p.m. with a fuller entry (not on dead Arafat).


The Tits of Justice:
The nighttime workers at the Department of Justice are sighing in relief because Attorney General John Ashcroft has resigned. No longer do they have to hear the snap of his flogging whip as he beats his back and shoulders over and over. No longer do they have to hear him cry and weep. John Ashcroft wants to titty fuck the statue of Justice in Great Hall of the building. He can't get the image out of his head, gently removing the curtain he had hung to prevent anyone from looking upon her but him, anointing his dick with Crisco oil and ramming it home in the glorious space between Justice's breasts, one covered, one uncovered, until he's spewed his sinful seed on Justice's tits. It would be simple: he would then lovingly polish Justice's exposed tit with his semen. But these thoughts are wrong. They are wrong, John Ashcroft thinks, he is a godly man, one who has proclaimed the role of the Almighty in the public life, one who told a Bob Jones University audience, "Because we have understood that our source is eternal, America has been different. We have no king but Jesus." Jesus watches him, he knows, he knows, Jesus reads his mind and knows his thoughts. Jesus sees him in his fantasy, pants down, cock erect, orgasmic yells echoing through the Great Hall, sweet Justice getting titty-fucked again. Ashcroft realizes that the Christ knows he is sinful, dirty, mortal. And he has built his life out of absolving himself of that sin.

There's things Ashcroft will miss. He'll miss the secret trips to Guantanamo to enter the holding area where he can smell the shit and piss and blood of the beaten prisoners there. He'll miss licking the sweat off praying Muslims, mats on the cement, shaved heads bowed towards Mecca, Ashcroft bending over them to taste the drip of heat and pain from their heads. He'll miss the trips to New Orleans, to whorehouses, where he walks from room to room, sniffing the sheets to inhale the pungent perfume of pussy, the concupiscence of cock, feigning disgust even as his own prick slowly rises as he thinks of fucking Justice's big tits. It is the same thing with the endless parade of pornography that crosses his desk. He has demanded that he say what images are obscene and therefore he has forced himself to look at it all, all the scat DVDs, the crush videos, the images of degradation and beastiality. He must suffer, he knows, he must, for the good of all. If he does not, then who will?

John Ashcroft believes in suffering - he believes that to suffer is to reach rapture. There's different kinds of suffering, of course: there's the suffering of denial, be it the cleansing pain in the denial of the right to die or the denial of sexual urges. Of course, the greatest suffering comes from the sacrifices we must make in order to achieve higher good. His model is the Christ, of course, and his unfathomable, masochistic suffering at Calvary. When Jesus suffered so greatly, staring at the mocking crowds who laughed at his pain, he still endured it all because he knew there was glory in the agony, ecstasy in the sacrifice. With that in mind, Ashcroft wonders of Americans, who are we to question the mild sacrifices, inconveniences, even, in order to achieve peace, light, and grace? To deny the good of suffering is to act selfishly, to let the Devil in, when God's loving arms want to save you. Like Philistines, Ashcroft knows they must be destroyed in order to achieve good. He knows that it doesn't matter how many suffer in his wake - that he is doing good for the vast majority of people. God, it would feel so good to ejaculate in the cold, calm cleavage of Justice.

John Ascroft handwrote his resignation letter. He called security and safety goals that have been achieved. He fondled himself with his other hand. He wept because he is, after all, human. He has urges, but his greatest attribute is self-denial. And he has taken his godly, sexually-repressed urges out on all of us. Driven Christ-mad by the holiness of himself, his belief in himself as God's vessel, he smirks at the liberating thought of walking down that hall and showing Justice whose bitch she's been these past four years.


Because It Needs To Be Said:
The Rude Pundit did not write fuckthesouth.com. He appreciates the sentiments in said essay, although he thinks Faulkner's Quentin Compson said it better in Absalom, Absalom, when he exclaimed, "I don't hate the South. I don't hate it" over and over.

Back in the morning.
And Then They Came For Arlen Specter:
The Rude Pundit has no pity for Arlen Specter. Just after being re-elected, the pro-choice Republican Senator from Pennsylvania, who thought he would cruise to the chair of the Senate Judiciary Committee said, "When you talk about judges who would change the right of a woman to choose, overturn Roe v. Wade, I think that is unlikely," citing the reality of the Democratic filibuster against such nominees to the Supreme Court. Oh, what a shitstorm swirled among the righteous in the Christian conservative wing of the conservative party, flush from their success in the presidential election, as well as their success in electing right-wing lunatics like Tom Coburn and Jim Demint to the Senate. It's time for their due, these righteous believe, and their due is to overturn Roe v. Wade and bathe in the corrupt blood of women who get illegal abortions.

Specter, who faced a strong challenge from a hardcore conservative in the Republican primaries, has unleashed the vicious anger of the right, who are busy shifting the meaning of "conservative" further and further from any semblance of a center. "It's difficult to imagine very many weeping were the judiciary chairman's gavel pried from his liberal fingers," wrote Deroy Murdock, house negro at the National Review. Anti-abortion activists are calling for Specter to be stripped, beaten, tarred, feathered, and sent to the hinterlands of a Subcommittee on Caribou Killing.

Specter could have fought back - he could have made a case for the independence of the legislative branch from the executive. He could have said more strongly that he was talking about the reality of dealing with an angry Democratic minority. Oh, how strong and mighty he could have stood for ideals and moderation. Instead, Specter was paid a visit by Karl Rove's Sodomizin' Stormtroopers. God, how the sphincters of Republicans ache at the thought of the black-clad SS and their foot-long black dildos, how the alphabet streets of D.C. are filled nightly with the moans of would-be dissenters from the Bush agenda who are raped back into line with just a wave of Rove's corpulent hand. It took one night of abuse with the sandpapered rough phalluses before Specter put on the Shirley Temple dress and went on the gabfests to lick his giant lollipop about what good widdle girl he would be. Isn't he adorable on CNN's Inside Politics, saying, "I've supported all of President Bush's nominees in committee and on the floor," followed with a stark admission of his bitchery, "I think I can help the president"? Wasn't he a sweetie pie on Face the Nation? Yep, Specter dancing around and showing his cute panties to everyone is a warning to anyone who dares not toe the Bush line.

In the wake of the coronation of George Bush as the biggest marionette of puppet master Karl Rove, there's something really weird going on among so-called "moderate" Republicans, which, in real terms, means a Republican who thinks that decimating the economy to badly run a war and then waste time discussing why two men shouldn't get married is perhaps not the best use of the public will.

On Bill Maher's Real Time last Friday, much has been discussed about noted anal sex afficionado Andrew Sullivan's bizarre act of rubbing his ass on live television, perhaps prepping for his evening. Less has been made of both the conservative and gay (did you know he's gay? No, really, Sullivan loves cock) writer and the Republican former Senator Alan Simpson acting absolutely batshit insane. When Maher attempted to find out from these moderate Republicans why they think the Democrats lost, both acted as if they had not only lost the election, but their minds as well. Here's Simpson, after Maher had barely spoken: "[Y]ou’re making fun of Americans who have some religious bent or a faith. Keep doing that and your people will never win an election. Because whether you and I like it or not, this is the only country on the face of the earth that was founded because of religious persecution and a belief in God. That’s why they left Europe. So keep making fun of them. Keep making fun of the gays and the lesbians, pulling people in, tearing people up, thinking that Hollywood has all the brains in America, from people who are making millions of bucks on one movie and telling the rest of the people, and making fun of them, and you’ll never make it, never make it." And, later, in the panel discussion, here's Sullivan (who is, in case you haven't heard, gay), "[T]he reason they won, partly, was because people are tired of being demeaned. Don’t demean people and expect them to vote for you . . . we must appeal to the best in them, not push them into a corner and expect the worst of them." Fuck, don't just confine this to an HBO show. David Brooks can't stop explaining what Democrats don't seem to understand.

Here's what's going on, with Specter, with elected and non-elected so-called "moderates": they wanted John Kerry to win. And they're angry as hell at Democrats for blowing what should have been a no-brainer election. Now, the moderates are in the position of watching their party shift further and further to the scary right, and they have a couple of choices: they can be party loyalists, but stand up for principle, like say a John McCain; they can stand on principle against the Bush administration and the further rightward shift of the Republican agenda; or they can leave the Republican Party, either as independents or as Democrats (who, as we know, are what Republicans were about thirty years ago). But now that the religious right has tasted the sweet tang of blood, they want to feed on the whole hog. They are bloated with power now, and, as the publicly buggered Arlen Specter has learned, any step outside of their evangelical path is going to bring their mighty deluded wrath.

The moderates have seen this purging coming since the Reagan administration. They thought they could hold it off. They thought it would end once the far right killed all the liberals they could get their holy hands on. They thought it would end once they demonized the entire Democratic Party. But Specter, Collins, Hagel, and others know: it won't end until only the righteous rule. And what a godly kingdom that will be. But the Rude Pundit has no pity for the moderates. They made deals with the Devil, and the Devil always gets paid.


Why We Fight:
Here were some of the thoughts and reactions of soldiers in Iraq just prior to the coming return of Fallujah to the desert: In a scene straight out of Joseph Heller, a half-dozen Marines lined up to have their heads plunged into a rubber dinghy filled with water so that they may be baptized (or born again) before heading into battle because, according to the oh-so-secular media, they had "had just found Christ" (and, by the way, that phrase is not quoted in the AFP article - it is stated as fact). Meanwhile, Col. Gary Brandl, in rallying his troops for the coming battle, said, "The enemy has got a face. He's called Satan. He's in Fallujah and we're going to destroy him." So our born-again soldiers are heading into Fallujah to destroy Satan? Damn, Jesus better hit those insurgents like the atom bomb (and he will, sweet Lord, he will).

Over here, in this America, the Texas Board of Education got major texbook publishers to change their definitions of "marriage" from gender-neutral language to specifically say that it's between a man and a woman. One would hope that they would also, then, define "divorce" and "spousal abuse" and "adultery" as being between a man and a woman. Also in Texas (state motto: "The Stupider They Are, The Easier They Are To Fuck Over"), the Board of Education approved four sex-ed textbooks, three of which make no mention of contraceptives and one which "makes passing references to condoms" (one assumes that mention might something like, "People who wish to go to hell and burn in eternal fire carry condoms with them"). Texas, by the way, has one of the highest rates of teen pregnancy in the country, according to the CDC.

Head up north, to Grantsburg, Wisconsin, where the city school board has decided to allow creationism to be taught alongside evolution as part of the "science" curriculum. One hopes they will provide the "intelligent design" behind the Native American "turtle island" creation myth. Back in the deep South, Cobb County, Georgia, has required science textbooks have a sticker on them which reads, "This textbook contains material on evolution. Evolution is a theory, not a fact, regarding the origin of living things. This material should be approached with an open mind, studied carefully and critically considered." Six parents have sued, along with the ACLU, and now the case heads to the U.S. District Court, which, if it says the stickers are unconstitutional, will no doubt be called "activist" and "imposing personal opinion" on an issue.

Yesterday, appearing on Fox "News," puppet master Karl Rove stated plainly that President Bush would "absolutely" push for a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage.

Meanwhile, commentators all over the political spectrum are saying that one of the reasons that Democrats lost the election is that they are "elitists" and "out of touch" with the "moral values" of Americans. But you know what? The problem is not that Democrats are out of touch with Americans. It's that these so-called "Americans" are out of touch with America as a concept. While all of these pundits are decrying the division of America as somehow the province of "liberals" and their misunderstanding of the middle and south of the country, how about just the occasional fucking word about how Bush's constant berating of "intellectuals" and "Massachusetts" is more divisive, as if somehow Illinois, Pennsylvania, California, and New York are filled with eggheads who only theorize and refuse to get their hands dirty in the real work that all those amazing "real" Americans engage in every day. Bush's anti-intellectualism is a calculated effort to pander to the worst elements of human beings - voting with your gut, not your mind.

See, here's the deal: your ignorance affects the rest of us. That's what we're pissed about. When your kids who don't believe in evolution, hate gays, and are filled with sexual repression and self-loathing cross the borders into blue America, we have to deal with that ignorance. And it is ignorance. Can we just call stupidity what it is? It ain't about religion. It's about stupid fuckers who can't catch a break in this fucked up country when it comes to jobs, health care, wages, and real security who rely on the one thing they have, faith, and then are manipulated by power-mad ministers and politicians into translating that faith into policy. The Rude Pundit's been there. He's seen it all firsthand. And you know what? They've been beaten into stupidity by their stupid fucking communities and all they want is their stupidity to spread, as if stupidity were the greatest value of all.

And when we, the so-called "enlightened," actually say we don't want their stupidity infecting our country, we're called intolerant. That's like when the asshole in the bar, who keeps shoving you and feeling up your girlfriend, says, "You wanna step outside?" and then after he's gotten his friends to beat you with pool cues, you pick your battered ass off the ground and spit blood in his face, then the asshole says, "That's not fair" before he starts to kick you in the nuts repeatedly. "Freedom of religion" really means "freedom from religion," whether that's your religion or all religion.

Thomas Friedman, who has sucked a fair amount of administration cock himself, got it right when he said, "I felt as if I registered to vote, but when I showed up the Constitutional Convention broke out." The religious values the ignorant wish to impose on us are anti-American. If you wanna make it American, then, fine, let's do this thing. Change the actual concept of the country. Go for your constitutional amendments. At least then we'll know just how devolved we've all become.


The Five Stages of Grieving For George Bush's Re-Election:
The world is too fast-paced to sit around and piss and moan about the election. The Rude Pundit is ready to move to . . .
Stage 5 - Acceptance:
Yesterday, in his press conference or, to use the proper term, gloatfest, George Bush threatened the lives of all Americans who didn’t vote for him. Said Bush, "Americans are expecting a bipartisan effort and results. I'll reach out to everyone who shares our goals." And later, when asked if he felt free, he said one of the most nakedly power mad things anyone's ever claimed in a so-called democracy, "I earned capital in the campaign, political capital, and now I intend to spend it. It is my style." He may as well have said, "L’etat, c’est moi" and renounced the Edict of Nantes. It was a chilling reminder to anyone who believed that "bipartisanship" is even remotely possible. He is King Kong, Bush said. Let New York City cower beneath his giant balls.

What does it mean to accept what’s happened this week? It doesn’t mean that we roll over and say, "Here, our anuses are yours to abuse freely." It doesn't mean that we abandon this fallen America for the sundry lands of more democratic societies (yet- the Rude Pundit always keeps his options open). Do not accept your marginalization or forced exile. As much as the Republicans are crowing, 51% is awfully tenuous (although we won’t torture out the numbers to "emphasize the positive" as others have – fuck emphasizing the positive, fuck silver linings – it’s like saying, "I was sodomized in my prison cell, but at least my white supremacist rapist didn’t beat me when I cried.")

Acceptance means we accept that we lost. It does not mean (despite all the fucking letters the Rude Pundit received) that we accept George Bush as our leader and knuckle under. It means we stop falling back on such pussy liberal statements like "In the days ahead, we must find common cause, we must join in common effort, without remorse or recrimination, without anger or rancor." That means you forgive the tactics of your enemy. When Bush said, in his "look-at-me-Daddy-I-won" speech, "And when we come together and work together, there is no limit to the greatness of America," all he was saying was it’s my way or the highway. That's what his press conference yesterday demonstrated. Ass, gas, or grass, motherfuckers, no one rides for free. And the sooner the non-right (because, let’s face it, centrism lost on Tuesday) learns that lesson, the sooner we begin our crawl back to power.

So where do we go? There will be more advice in the days, weeks, months to come before the midterms, but here's a few suggestions: Let’s start with the Senate. Lincoln Chaffee has already spoken about leaving the Republican party. It is time to bribe and threaten Olympia Snowe and Susan Collins into at least going independent. No, that doesn't mean a majority in the Senate, but it's a fuck of a lot closer than it is now. And, you know, Barack Obama's gonna need some back-up.

If George Soros really wants to do some good (and really, truly put his billions on the line to defeat Bush's agenda), he can buy CNN or MSNBC (considering their ratings, they’ll come cheap) and transform it into the oppositional force the media is supposed to be. The non-right was crushed by the conservative media. Air America is a good start (and it'll grow), but we need so much more. And, fuck it, since so much of the media that's called "liberal" will be called that unless they have daily updates of who Hillary killed today or a pray-for-George-Bush show, the New York Times, CBS, and others really are free to go whole hog on the opposition.

There’s a certain level at which we need to think about ourselves as insurgents in an occupied country. And, as we all know, no one likes to be occupied. That doesn’t mean violence. It’s a mindset: you are either a collaborator or an insurgent. That's what we need to accept, at the bottom, at the end of this long goddamn stomach churning bipolar week. It's what the Democrats in Congress need to realize: to collaborate is to be a traitor to a cause. The administration wants to steamroll for the next two years. It will treat all opposition as it's about to treat Fallujah: it doesn't matter how much shit you blow up, how much collateral damage is done, as long as its goals are met. What is the goal of our insurgency? To take back our country from its occupiers. And that's a hard, long slog of a battle. When we accept that there's no quick fix, like electing a President, we accept the chore of the next couple of decades.

As reader Ty put it, "As a negro, all i keep thinking about is the negroes in the south who [were] mired in an awful world before the civil rights movement and even after and how they were strong and alone and mostly unsupported at first. how their sacrifice and blood and washing the floors of whites who hated their guts allowed me to do all the shit i do every day, and be in my cushy tax bracket, and laugh and smoke cigars with my negro buppie ivy league friends, and how i owe it to them to fight the assholes in the capitol for every inch they wanna take off that sacrifice

"fight and fight and fight. i owe history and precedent. fight and fight and fight. i owe my grandmother and my grandfather and his father and his mother who was a slave...

"and if one more liberal friend tells me (even jokingly) that he's moving to canada or europe, i'm gonna kick his fucking heart out for my grandfather and grandmother and her mother who was a sharecropper and never had that choice...

"it's on!"

Fuck yeah.