As Frigid February Temperatures Approach
the Republican National Committee
Asks You to Please….
Proving once again the purpose of public service is to enhance personal wealth, the mellifluous tones of Senate moderation are about to capitalize on Impeachment Trial publicity with a hot new single. The upper chamber’s Kangarettes have released a moving new version of I Fought the Law.
Originally intended to out smoke Bobby Fuller and Clash hits from decades ago, it was found the synapses could not fire fast enough to keep up with the blistering 150 BPM metronome of those allegrissimos. So it’s been slowed down to a more manageable 65 BPM ballad featuring Senator Collins’ signature vibrato in the lead.
Joining Maine’s solon in the Kangs are Senators Murkowski of Alaska and Feinstein of California. Both are renown for struggling with their consciences before ultimately siding with the Bogey Man to pad their wallets.
The inclusion of non-GOPer Feinstein may come as a surprise to some but not really when you consider how she often votes with them anyway (after heavily publicizing her “misgivings” beforehand). Or how she mismanages the Democratic agenda so badly the party of wealth preservation always prevails in the end (see the Kavanaugh hearings.)
Fans were disappointed the new release was not their long-anticipated version of the blues classic I Smell Trouble (aka Susan’s Eating Clams Again). That song seems to more aptly reflect the murky thoughtfulness they like to posture for the press before any big vote. It really is a natural for them. But marketers felt at only 60 BPMs the more uptempo Law was the way to grab the youth market on their initial offering.
The Triangulating Troika have promised Smell will be the next single out of the can. (Or hopefully, in Collins’ case, in the can. Ha! Ha! Do us all a favor, Suze, and take a dump. Jeeze!))
When I walked past City Hall last evening I was shocked to see that it was not lit up in the traditional red and gold Every other year the Forty Niners were in the Super Bowl the dome was saturated in those hues. LIV LEDs seem to be a different story.
It’s probably a reflection on the bad blood that remains between City Officials and the owners, the Debartolo-Yorks (the Dorks). When they were trying to build a new stadium and NFL-rape the local taxpayers like they always do, City Hall would not budge. So the Dorks swindled the burg of Santa Clara instead and moved 40 miles away. It was an odd but admirable stance for San Francisco to take considering that it has become the poster city for profiting from corporate greed.
The message from City Mothers is coming through loud and clear: you’re named for a body of water not the town you were founded in. Have your fucking ticker tape parade out in the polluted bay.
Although I don’t profess to be an expert interpreter of lighting schemes, many consider me to be one. What I’m seeing here is another example of how clueless politicians need outsiders to keep them up on what’s happening in the real world.
They’ve backed the wrong team. The Patriots were eliminated a couple of weeks ago.
The calm in the streets last night was deafening. Not a horn honk, a note from a drunken frat boy tenor, nor the bloodcurdling shrill of a Latina “forty fucking niners!” could be heard. They’d won the NFC championship but you’d never know it from the groundswell.
Gone are the days of bon fires in the streets and the (alleged) high jacking of Muni buses. When I went for a walk last evening the town was like a morgue. I did run into one tranny in a fake fur Politburo ear flapped hat who showed signs of exhilaration. “We’re back in the Super Bowl!”
I asked her if she didn’t think the street reaction seemed muted compared to celebrations in the past. She didn’t care. She’d been down at the adult bookstore on Mission Street giving blow jobs and business was booming. Thank god for at least one strand of continuity.
I’m guessing there may be new ways to measure fan response that I’m not privy to. Possibly the keyboard clacking of “likes,” “faves” or customized emoji brought cellular service in the Bay Area to a standstill. Or maybe there’s a cloud community where today’s youth go to feel as one.
I’m not letting this cultural disconnect get me down, however. I’ve got my Aunt knitting away on special edition 49er dog sweaters that are available for a limited time only at $49 each. We’re practically giving them away! Practically.
If anyone is interested please contact my puppy needs a pullover. And there’s no team loyalty here. If you’d prefer them in other colors we can accommodate. I’ve threatened my Aunt that if she can’t keep up with demand I won’t hesitate to bring in the Burmese children who have served me so well in the past.
Since the Yorks took over the Forty Niners and moved them to Santa Clara I’ve lost all interest in the team. I don’t even know the names of the new players. But I do know that as long as Montana is at quarterback, they’ve got a chance.
Go Niners! (Ka-ching!)
Received a message today from a disinterested third party (which pretty much describes any friend or acquaintance I’ve ever had) asking if the check I’d written them was any good. I said it has as good a chance of clearing as any other I’ve ever written. You just got to get on that pony and ride, see what happens.
Carbon dating the accompanying note of such thoughtfulness, this would have been issued in the Spring of 1975. Less than a month after Aristotle Onassis’ passing on the Ides of March.
I have a sneaking suspicion this financial institution no longer exists. I believe they were felled by excessive Federal Reserve sanctions for issuing such overtly feminine checks to a male customer.