STILL MORE CAMP SONGS FOR CROOKS

Tom DEEELAY
(sung to the tune of Tom Dooley)




Hang down your head Tom DEEEEELAY
Hang down your head and cry
Hang down your head you grifter
we hope you're gonna fry

WELCOME BACK BROWNIE!!!!



Chicago hires Mrs. O'Leary's cow as a public relations person for the Fire Department. Exxon inks a deal with Joseph Hazelwood to teach navigation to tanker captains. The Red Sox bring back Bill Buckner as a fielding Coach. Coke brings back "New Coke" for a second try - people just didn't get it the first time. Ford introduces the new Edsel, shelves the Mustang.

No, no no no and No. But this competency challenged Administration brings back the biggest F--- Up in he entire F--- Up Orchard. "Brownie" will be a consultant over how FEMA's response was poor to Katrina. He'll be paid to answer the question "why did you F--- this up so bad, Brownie?" Why? Were no prosecutors available? Was this because Abramoff was, ahem, not in a position to arrange suitable new employment? Were there no more Congressional Medals of Freedom to be handed out? Is Brownie now making even more money as a consultant to a fouled up agency than he was as its head? Does Brownie have pictures of Bushie, his buddies Jim Beam and Jack Daniels and a Pet Goat?

How 'bout a better question, can we eliminate the middle man and just drown Grover Norquist in the bathtub? Yeah, I know there'd be a lot of aqueous slime as a biproduct, but hey, we'll never have a more cooperative situation at EPA than presently.

Forget the signs!!! Forget the speakers, its time to get the torches and pitchforks, people. The level of "screw everybody" ethos expressed by this bunch of criminals as astounding

AGENT 86 is 86'd



Rest in Peace, Don Adams, Inspector Gadget, and my personal favorite, Tennessee Tuxedo.

RUSSERT MAKES BIG ASS OF SELF - AGAIN




Its got to be hard work to be Tim Russert - the one-time likable everyman of NBC's right sliding infotainment wing. Trying to cash himself as liked by everyone - trying to publish heartwarming "i really care" pablum like "Big Russ and Me" talking about his visits with Popes and Presidents and Cleveland Indians games blah blah blah, while at the same time, doing the bidding of some of the most corrupt, vile creatures ever to inhabit the White House.

This morning Russert just did a hack job on the poor bastard from Jefferson Parish who, three weeks ago cried like a baby on his show about a death in a nursing home, issuing a highly emotional indictment of the Federal government's shoddy and slacking response to the horrors of that City's misfortune.

Russert - who rudely shifted gears on Mr. Broussard back then (9/4/05), brought him back on the show today for the sole purpose of trying to embarrass the guy into admitting that the LOCAL Government was to blame for the death, not the Feds. Over and over - like a modern day Torquemada (or perhaps a "contracted" Gitmo interrogator) Russert kept trying to lead Broussard into apostasy - the story was false or exaggerated, there had been indictments of rest home owners, hell, even that Russert himself had interviewed the son of the deceased, and the story had been overblown.

Broussard handled himself admirably under the blisteringly stupid attempt to gain an apology for the flaccid feds. Has Russert forgotten the vaunted "Brownie?" Or did Karl and "Unka Dick" tell tubby Timmy that he needed to do this for them or "no more "Face time" with high level admin officials. And Timmy bought that?

With the Abramoff scandal brewing, Patrick Fitzgeralds Plame investigation winding up, Bill Frist having some 'splaining to do about his stock in his Brother's HCA (anyone remember Columbia HCA?), with the "Enquirer" story about the President's resumption of drinking, the fomenting disgust with the Iraq war, spiraling oil and gas prices - the full effect of which will hit the economy right about the time that the Holidays will be arriving, expect more and more of the high muckety mucks in this cabal to be spending more and more "Face time" with the legal counselor of his or her choice.

Shame on you Russert. You once were "everyman." Now you're busy cementing your legacy as a lap dog for the influential. Wasn't your soul worth more than that?

IN CASE Y'ALL WERE WONDERING WHAT I WANTED 4 MY BIRTHDAY



This would be aiiight!!

Kudos to john in LA at www.liberalrapture.com for the idea, and a pretty cool site, to boot!!!

WHAT WILL HE SAY?

If the big 9.0 comes and hits LA
I wonder what President Bush will say
"Who'dve thought downtown would crumble that way?"
I'm afraid that's what this man is gonna say

If the Shia and the Sunnis say get out of here now
will our President hear or listen, and how?
Or will he be too busy speaking to a pre-fab crowd
smirking and taking several contrived bows

If the Muslim kooks suitcase nuke DC
What will this President's response be?
"This is really something nobody could foresee"
I think that's what we'll hear from the gray Bushie

If Greenspan says that the Nation's now broke
Do you think that our President will crack a joke
"Hey kids, guess its time to move back in with your folks"
while he knocks back a couple more Jack and Cokes

While the Category Fours are still bearing down
Will the President care if its a Texas town
that has its old, young and ill people suffer and drown
While the White House hangs medals on Chertoff and Brown?

If Paddy Fitz delivers an indictment thang
and Karl leaves the White House in 'cuffs or chains
will we finally find out who outed Valerie Plame
and who will then take charge of the biggest spin game?

If our votes all require a paper trail
will any o' those Diebold folks wind up in jail
or will they all get pardoned and set out to sail
I hope our Democracy isn't quite so frail . . .

WHERE THERE'S A WILL THERE'S A WAY . . . OUT OF POVERTY




Oh, thank you, George Will, oh bland vanilla wordsmith of the Right Wing. Now I understand where poverty comes from, and most importantly how it can be eradicated. We needed no "War on Poverty." We needed no "New Deal." We need no Government Program at all. Just follow George's simple 3 pronged program, which he revealed to the nation over the weekend. To avoid poverty all one has to to is follow:"three not-at-all recondite rules: … Graduate from high school, don't have a baby until you are married, don't marry while you are a teenager."

You hear that, old people? If you hadn't had that kid out of wedlock you wouldn't be eating that can of dog food now. Hey you, carrying the sign at the freeway offramp, You shouldn't have dropped out your senior year. Gee George, does your recipe come in mulitple languages too? We could have the "Minutemen" distribute copies in Spanish at the border now, whadyathink?

I think the Ghost of Christmas Present said it best, when talking about the kids under his robe "This boy is Ignorance, this girl is Want. Be wary of both but most of all beware this Boy, for upon his brow is written the word Doom for all those who would deny his existence."

George you sad walking lexicon of bowtie-induced hypoxia hypocrisy. Give it a rest.

DREW CAN FLY, TOO?



Oh me of Little faith. Lost refused to drive up to Pasadena this week to watch the beloved Bruins, captive of the fear that, once again, the Gutty Little Bruins would be trampled, beaten, battered and left for dead by some 'roid-crazed, cornfed bunch of tramplers eager to reclaim their place of prominence among College Football's elite.

Well, the only ones who appeared eager to reclaim anything were those very same Bruins. Dubbed the "Fancy Boys" of College Football by one Oklahoma Columnist (Berry Tramel, TEXT) , the Westwood Blues were putting the hat and the hurt on the Sooners, 41-24. This was the biggest win so far in the Dorrell era. Even reluctant detractor T.J. Simers of the Times has, at least for now, put away the "Karl Dullard" moniker.

Now, can we figure out a way to get Leinart and Bush to turn pro next week?

A NEW TWELVE STEP PROGRAM?



Lessee, mah poll numbers is tankin', but sheeyit Karl, I been sayin' that Ah don' care 'bout no polls. Ah'm the Prezdent, Ah'm a war Prezdent. What'm I gonna do?

Oh, apologize? APOLOGIZE? For what? It wadn't mah fault! Them dumb people shoulda got outta there. Drive, row, wade Ah Don't care, jes' get it done. Speakin' of which, somethin' jest popped inta mah head. How's ol', c'mon it'll come to me, How's ol' Robbie doin' up there on the Hill? We gonna git us a new Scalia - ah mean Rehnquist?

WAIT! WAIT! Ah got it, we'll have a twelve step program. First, Ah'll take responsibility for the guvment response to Katrina. But Ah won't apologize. Then, ah'll come up with a plan to rebuild that great city where I came to enjoy mahself (heh heh heh) sometimes a little too much, then Ah'll go on TV and look all sincere an' tell everybody how much Ah care 'bout 'em, maybe Ah'll even cry a little. No, Ah'd need to be a good actor to do that, like Fred Thompson or Arnie. Heck. that's three steps already, nine more and ah'll be back on track and we'll get our Death Tax repealed and social securety, uh fixed. Karl! Karl! Ah got it figgered out all on mah own . . . .

WE DON'T NEED A COMMISSION TO TELL US WHAT BROWNIE COULD DO FOR OUR BUSINESS




Tomorrow the papers will all note that a largely party line vote demolished Hillary Clinton's proposal for a bi-partisan commission to investigate "what went wrong" with the Federal Government's response to Hurricane Katrina. For once, I agree with the majority, and I hope they agree with me. We don't need a commission. What went wrong was obvious.

Handing out high profile governmental jobs to political loyalists must be confined to the periphery, not in positions where regular folks have real expectations that Government can and should make a difference.

Taking one straight month off for ANY world leader, let alone our President and most of his administration is criminally stupid.

Electing a man as president who is so petulant and stubborn that people around him are afraid to give him bad news or disagreeable information is asinine.

Trying to decry scapegoating while you're scapegoating everybody else is glaring hypocrisy that no one can ignore.

Sending your mom out to do P.R. work and damage control when you're President is a really dumb idea.

Nobody listened to the 9/11 commission. Creating another would drain funds away from the rebuilding and restoration of a Great City.

YOU KNOW ITS FOOTBALL SEASON WHEN



It becomes apparent that Michigan is once again, Overrated.


Yeah, Notre Dame looks as good as it has in years, and may give a few more good teams some grief (PLEASE Beat U$C this year!), but year after year, like the leaves coming off the trees and the days shortening up, you can rest assured that all those Midwestern Sportswriters who must have gone to bed with Bo Schembechler's picture under their pillow are gonna get pantsed sometime in the Season's first month. Boo Hoo, no top 5 ranking for the wolverines this year (Again)!!

VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR . . . and PEOPLE'S IMAGINATIONS

Come on, admit it. Smells are powerful, so are sights, but sounds, musical ones in particular are absolutely magical.
Or at least they used to be.

When the strains of The Doors' "Touch Me" begin tap dancing through the speaker, I am transported back to ten year old kid-dom, standing on the hyperwaxed floor of the gym at Cal State L.A., standing next to my brother, who towered over me at the time in a silent way that is easy to see and yet sooooo hard to explain. When the first, melancholy vocal of the campy Zager & Evans one hit "In the Year 2525" dirges forward, I'm seated 'round the flame at a Seal Beach fire ring, staring across at my newleywed brother and his now years-dead wife, watching a bag of carelessly tossed potato chips go up like an impaled Roman Candle. Happens every single time.

When, as he is right now, Ziggy Stardust croons "Sufragette City" I'm sitting in the bleachers at my high school, watching all the guys in the upper class section chant along with the "Hey Man" chorus. The uber corny "Me and You and a Dog named Boo" puts me back into the back of a pick up truck driven by the Mom of a fifth grade crony of mine, on our way to the coolest double destination field trip one could ever have - Anaheim Stadium and the local "cool" AM rock station. Swear to God.

Mason Williams "Classical Gas" and I'm knockin' around the crappy little town I grew up in, thinking about the 21st Century like its a millenium away, off beyond the horizon. Sugarloaf's "Green Eyed lady" and I'm in the car, waiting for my older sister to finish her voice lessons at the toney uptown home of her "coach." Seriously, its like I'm right there.

Any early Beatles album - pick it - Rubber Soul, Yesterday and Today, Beatles '65 (yeah the Capitol releases, bucko) and I'm 5 or 6 again, sitting under the Christmas tree, waiting for the Christmas that takes forever to get here.

Silly you say? Quaint? No, shudderingly real, like they could be slipped into with a proper head turn and the right amount of concentration. (Yeah, but then what, right?)

The point of this little rant is, I guess, that I feel sorry for my own kids, and for the generations that immediately preceded them. Not because they don't have any great one hit wonder bands to look back on nostalgically. No, not that. I regret that marketing idiot picked for the younger generations what they're gonna remember when they hear their favorite songs. They no longer have these tunes as little psychic protective sleeves for storage of most precious memories in the recesses of their brains. MTV and VH1 did it for 'em. How bloody sad is that?

CAMP SONGS FOR THE SWAMP

CRAWFORD SPACED ASS
(sung to the tune of “Camp Town Races”)



Oh, Crawford Moron sing your song
Doo Fus Doo Fus
On vacation way too long
Oh Doo fus day

Goof around all night
Garble every day
Play dis guitar wif de flood
Til Cheney save dah day

Oh, deep water comin down
Doo Fus Doo fus
Send in FEMA two twin clowns
O de doofus day

Fund rai-sin’ all night
Do nuf-fin all day
Play dis guitar all day long
Til Sheehan go away

Oh spin machine she movin fast
Doo Fus Doo Fus
Blame the Mayor blame dem blacks
Oh Doo Fus Day

Ride mah bike all night
Photo opp all day
When you people gonna wake up
And send mah ass away?

They don’t want you to see the horror they allowed to happen.
They don’t want to play the “blame game” unless you want to blame others
They don’t want to admit how screwed up things are, or that they had plenty of warning and did exactly the opposite of what a prudent leader would have done.


Why did we impeach Clinton again? Oh yeah, something about a cigar and a stained dress. How many’d that kill again? That’s what I thought.




And the Arabian Horse('s ass) you rode in on, Dick!

UH, MARIE, SHOULDN'T YOU CUT BACK ON THE TRIPS TO THE DESSERT CART?




The nearly endless fountain of compassion that is the Bush family burst forth with another torrent of love for the less fortunate, when Clan Crone Barbara Bush, channelling Marie Antoinette, had this to say about Louisiana storm victims being temporarily relocated to the armpit of Texas, Yewstun:

"Almost
everyone I’ve talked to says we're going to move to
Houston. What I’m hearing which is sort of
scary is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is
so overwhelmed by the hospitality.And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this--this is working very well for them."

After all, they're just poor and black, right Bar? Practically good-for-nothing?

They are Americans, you callous old hag, same as you. You won't be, but you oughta be ashamed to go out in public for months.

I WISH MY BROTHER JOHN WAS HERE

For twelve straight years, this weekend was spent in contemplation of the 9 financial opportunities available at the haunted Palace of Bing Crosby known as the Del Mar Racetrack, with the one man I know who has the biggest heart of anyone I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. My brother John and I and our wives, somewhat reluctantly, would spend Labor Day Sunday conniving and planning and plotting. In reality, it was never about winning and losing. It was always about spending time with the most caring and generous person I've known that wasn't my father.







For the past two years, work schedules and the press of who knows what kinds of things have prevented this magical weekend from occuring. I still have the memories, which, God-willing, I hope I hold onto forever. I wish I had a magic wand. I'd wear it out on all the things I'd wish for you.

SOON IT WILL BE TIME TO CONVENE A PANEL OF , ER EXPERTS

Yeah, we've heard this all before. This administration screwed up. They've dropped the ball. They've acted in ways that show their utter disregard for regular people. Then, before you can say "Whitewash" a "Bi-Partisan Blue Ribbon Panel" will be appointed, which will label the cause of the screw up with some nebulous sounds-good-but-none-of-our-loyal-minions-have-to-walk-the-plank platitudes about a "massive intelligence failure" or a "massive infrastructure shortfall" or a "Gosh, whod've thunk it" stupid-*ss response which might fly if you're among the brain-dead 35% who think that this Administration's response to this horror has been "good" or "acceptable." They're the ones who think Condi Rice's Manhattan Soiree, enjoyed after the fact of this disaster - didn't need to be canceled in light of the grave calamity that had just visited our shores. After all, they were just poor black folks, who cares? Let her shop for and buy thousand dollar shoes while a big chunk of the Gulf Coast is dying and suffering.
From the fifth circle of Hell, Marie Antoinette is chortling, while Richard Nixon fans the flames adjacent to her.

Personally, I don't think that 35% is the brain-dead. I think they're the greedy. The grasping, the covetous, those folks whose favorite line in "A Christmas Carol" was uttered by the pre-transformed Scrooge: "Are there no Prisons? Are there no Workhouses?" What I don't know is how many of them folks have the requisite lack of shame necessary to call themselves "Christian" without choking on the moniker. The brain dead are the dwindling yet still present number of people who continue to react in purely partisan fashion as if this child of privilege really gave a rat's *ss about regular people. He doesn't.



Neither does this one. And he's still MIA, too.

REGGIE WHO?



Now all we need is a defense that has all 11 guys playing intensely every down . . . .
And no more stupid emo-penalties. Save the aggression for before the whistles!!

GUILT ABOUT FUN

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
I'm going to spend 2 days at Disneyland with the family, and I was, until this week, looking forward to hanging out around New Orleans Square and bopping around the "Pirates" and "Haunted Mansion" rides, maybe even going to the "Jazz Kitchen" in Downtown Disney. It doesn't feel right for some reason, almost feels heartless. Promises you make to your kids, though, who don't fully understand the magnitude of the tragedy - and who I selfishly hope never will have to experience anything like it first hand.

The pictures are frightening, and the stories are gut wrenching. And the kooks popping out of the woodwork, trying to label this as "God's will for pandering to homosexuals" is enough to set me over the edge. All these folks in devastation land need a line, and instead of bagging on each other, we all should be pulling on the rope together.

HERE DICK, DICK, DICK



Where's that ol' snarl we love to hate so?
Why no appearances to snipe at Camp Casey?
Did Pat Robertson's prayer for more SCOTUS vacancies lose something in translation?
After all Heaven, rumor has it, did install a cable filter to prevent receipt of TBN broadcasts

Okay, so this is where I think you've been, in no particular order:

10. Hanging w/bin Laden in your "undisclosed location."
9. Writing a New and Improved American Century Manifesto in your remote Wyoming Cabin.
8. Still hungover from this year's Bohemian Grove soirees. (Great Lampshade, Mr. Veep!)
7. Putting final touches on Oct 2006 Iraq troop withdrawal announcement ("Democracy is at Hand")
6. Busily poking small holes in a certain set of mountain bike tires
5. Arranging to whack Pat Robertson for letting the cat out of the bag on Venezuela
4. Nude sunbathing on the "Duke-Stir" (please no visual no no NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)
3. Attempting deal renegotiations with Satan.
2. Taking a peak and inventorying all your Halliburton stock piled up in "blind trust"
1. Slithering around Iowa and New Hampshire for no particular reason (NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!)