There was much to-do today on NPR about the measly pay-outs from Bush Inc. to it’s low & mid income taxpayers in the hopes that these already financially-strapped people would go crazy and somehow manage to stimulate the economy. My my, some people will be getting upwards of 500 US. Lordy, lord! His generosity is boundless! OK.. stimulate now! Let’s buy a slushie and see what happens..nothin? Wha..why can’t I find the G-spot? Because the economy is a morbidly obese overdosed slut with her head stuck down a toilet. Stimulate that! How come the excessively rich who’ve made billions in hedge funds betting against folks (mainly blacks & hispanics lured by amoral lenders) not being able to pay off their mortgages or those engaged in buying & selling oil futures which is the real reason for the exhorbitant price of oil..how come they* aren’t being asked to stimulate the economy. That would be some stimulation (watch out for Lou Dobbs!) George, let all of your people come. They’ve been fu.ked long enough.
*busy elsewhere stimulating younger leaner economies.
Ayman Al-Zawahiri sounding off about how Iran has spread false rumours vis-a-vis 9/ll thereby discrediting Al-Qaeda and all Sunni Muslims.
Al-Zawahiri said “The purpose of this lie is clear – [to suggest] that there are no heroes among the Sunnis who can hurt America as no-one else did in history.”
I find that reassuring.
Just returned from grocery store where there was a small poster at the cash with a picture of a deer eating grass and the caption Where’s Libby? It goes on to explain that last June 2007 these people found a little foal curled-up in a ditch beside her dead mother. They took her home, bottle-fed her and she’s been the family pet ever since. They also keep horses and cows and Libby who ran free would go to the barn several times a day and visit with the other animals. She was also known to take strolls alone down the concession road calling on neighbours but always returning home in the evening. By all accounts Libby was a charming and friendly doe, maybe too friendly. She disappeared last week and witnesses say they saw a man in a silver SUV with a Montreal Canadiens’ penant (they’re in the playoffs) pick her up and throw her into the backseat. I know you’re thinking ‘she’s in his freezer’ but as it was a Canadiens’ fan and she was an attractive leggy animal with big eyes… Maybe she’s living in Laval.
READ the latest on conduct of some Canadiens’ fans.
NPR’s Terry Gross had an excellent show yesterday. Her guest was Michael T. Klare whose recent book Blood and Oil deals with the consequences of the U.S. and Western Europe’s dependency on foreign oil and the change in World order which this is bringing about. Also in the news, Sno-well and I knocked back shots of wheatgrass extract at our new local, Rachelle-Berry. Fire-up your appendix if you still have one and get used to eating grass. The famine Irish, post-war Germans and many others before and after have been and will be sustained by it when there’s nothing else. (The extractor is pricey though.) I wonder if snow has any nourishment at all.
I guess by now everybody knows (at least in Québec) that there’s a new film in the works about Lucien Rivard (prison wall-flower) starring Rémy Girard and directed by Charles Binamé. Fabienne Larouche did the screenplay. Turns out Lucien Rivard wasn’t just a “small-time local crook.” He had ties to the French Connection, the New Orleans mob, owned a club in Havana..and Jack Ruby once had to bail him out of a Cuban jail. He was a real Canadian hero I mean heroin provider. The plot sickens..We were much more innocent back then. I found this long-lost poem written by my cousin Anne-Marie Fauteux (in the best tradition of William Henry Drummond) on a website dedicated to Québec superstar Roy Dupuis.
THE BALLAD OF BORDEAUX JAIL
Anne-Marie Fauteux (1965)
The warden sat at sundown,
A busy day was o’er,
He’d just lit up a fat cigar,
When a knock came at the door.
“Entrez, entrez !” the warden cried,
“La porte she is ajar !”
And who walked in, to his surprise,
But Big-Wheel, Lou Rivard !
“How come, Big-Wheel, you promenade,
It’s curfew-time, n’est-ce pas ?
I warning you to prenez-garde,
Before you break the law !”
“Pardonnez-moi mon capitane,
I did not stop to think,
But with your kind permission,
I would like to hose the rink.”
“To hose the rink ? Why sacre-bleu,
You must be wan big fool !
The rink my friend she’s beaucoup d’eau,
Like outdoor swimming pool !”
Now Rivard, like the quick brown fox,
Who must outwit the hound,
He senses with his gambler’s ken,
That he is gaining ground.
“It’s true Monsieur that ce matin,
The rink was soft like slop,
Regardez – since après-midi,
The temperature go plop !”
“C’est vrai, fait chaud from where you sit,
Across the great divide,
But where I stand I feel a draft,
Bébé it’s cold outside !”
“Eh bien, voilà, go get the hose,
Permission you obtain,
Like my new boss, Claude Wagner say,
We must be more humane.”
“Merci Monsieur, au revoir, adieu,
Light up your cold cigar,
I will not bother you again,
Exit Lucien Rivard ! !”
“Exit ! Exit !” the warden muse,
“He make the big joke, no ?
Quelle difference, he safe behind
The walls of old Bordeaux !”
One hour she pass, the warden doze,
Then bingo, tout de suite,
The sirens wail, the guards aussi,
There’s panic in the street ! !
The warden freeze – like paralyze,
The joke he get trop tard,
“Certainement, mon dieu, c’est ça,
The hose – the rink – Rivard ! ! ! ”
Trop tard ! He stagger to his feet,
No need to ask pourquoi,
“Certainement – mon dieu – c’est ça,
Lucien Rivard s’en va ! !”
He cry, Monsieur the warden,
Enfin he see it all,
Big hose not for the rink by gar,
Big hose for over wall ! !
He grind his teeth, he pull his hairs,
He’ll never smile again,
As he implore, encore, — encore —
“WHERE ARE YOU LUCIEN ! ! ! ”
The search goes on relentless,
Through valley, hill and dell,
They seek him here, they seek him there,
That Gallic Pimpernel.
For years to come in Crooksville,
They’ll tell the epic tale,
How Rivard left his footprints,
On the walls of Bordeaux Jail.
Queen Shiv snapped this penitent in the South of France this past Holy Week. “Very Da Vinci Code, creepy and cool” she writes. I somehow don’t see this movement catching on in North America anytime soon unless a bunch of them were cast in a TV ad flogging? beer ..or each other..though the get-up would not be out of place on a runway during Fashion Week. A few years back it was all the ‘rage’ for men to carry the cross in imitation of Jesus Christ. Now some are saying J.C. never existed. If He ‘works for you’ then I guess He exists. I think this hooded movement is about other stuff. Intimidation, secrecy, style. And I think a lot of men will be drawn to it.
Is Tot Lali, the 2-faced babe born in Northern India, a Goddess or a Severely Deformed Child? It depends largely on where you live. If she’d been born in the West she would have already undergone surgery to remove one of her faces. How great a deformity (maybe this is the wrong word) does it take to set one handicapped (also the wrong word) person apart from the crowd in India? Many of the Gods in the Hindu Pantheon when expressing themselves in human form have exaggerated and unusual features. The Goddess Kali has 24 arms, Ganesh the original elephant man looks like Dumbo with the body of a human but has 4 arms. Sometimes Shiva has 3 eyes.
If you’re a God and you have to get human, of course you’re going to have 24 arms or 2 faces. Is it only a surfeit of human features that makes one a God? or would a deficit in some departments also count?
I think this is a hoax, Totalli. She doesn’t seem to have a body and she doesn’t look Indian. She could be Tibetan…or Chinese.
It’s post-Easter in Big Turnip© where McMaster© a man with big appetites is suffering a ‘crise de conscience’. He decides to make reparations. The hapless dress-designer manqué Lonely Sue©, now penniless and knocked-up, is hired to do some sewing for McMaster who also happens to be her landlord. Strumpette© McMaster’s jilted former girlfriend still directs operations at Habitat for Inanities©
This is clearly a case of “Thomas wanting to have his cock and eat it too.” There, I said it. Others may have been thinking it but lacked the indelicacy to put it on the page. (sorry for the original clumsy syntax but there’s no ‘good’ way of saying this.)
My original blog.
March 27 08
This story about a man, who used to be a woman and is now married to another woman, having a baby, is too awful. I didn’t read the whole story to find out if he f…ed himself to get in the family way & I couldn’t help but notice that the putative parent(s), Thomas, has no breasts. Who is going to breastfeed this child? Please don’t tell me he’s going to have silicone implants. Are there still circuses or midway sideshows for these people to work in? (Larry King would be a safe bet) & is this kind of behaviour on Benedict 16’s list of new sins or did the canon lawyers not see this one coming?
5 Responses to “I’m having my baby.”
Bay Ruth (Libyan) Says:
March 27, 2008 at 4:55 pm e
It Makes me Can’tanka rouses pointe finale
marmaduck duvalier Says:
March 27, 2008 at 7:00 pm e
it’s the hen that makes the cock’s eggs.
More Like Says:
March 27, 2008 at 7:55 pm e
Pouched eggs Benedict XVI
down under Says:
March 27, 2008 at 8:37 pm e
zz dans le meteo Says:
March 27, 2008 at 11:45 pm e