Saturday, September 22, 2018

Cofidentiality Might Be Getting Dicked

It's hard to be pompous.   Deep breath.   Turning red.  I'm being a prig about confidentiality.  I read a news article supposedly exposing 45 as a raving, unfit horrible hephalump from Poo Forest.  An alternative perception of the Rosenstein circle jerk is that it's a deceptive and unethical breach of confidentiality.   The shit said about the 25th amendment may have been a joke or hyperbole. Maybe they were both blowing smoke.

 The article described nutty behavior on the part of 45.   This rounder opines that loose talk spoken with the expectation of confidentiality cannot be regarded as a basis for action against a mop jockey.  The Prez likes to to bullshit.   

The garbage about wanting to fire Comey before he was elected was angry talk, but probably not a genuine position on that matter.  Things people say behind closed doors are usually not identical to that which one goes public with, unless one is very fucking Amish-like.  It's fun to cuss out people who piss you off.  What's wrong with a little happy horseshit?  

The crap about Rosenstein having considered recording conversations is a clam out of season, to say the least, if he actually did discuss it.  Mitigation, dear readers.    Talking about it  in private isn't too fucking far off the grid.  Even shit behavior may be logical.  All kinds of pricks record conversations illegally, all over creation.  Lawyers are peckerheads.   People fib.  One may wish to prove someone fibbed for a spectrum of reasons.   If the jerks were  upset over something, and people get J.O.ed all the time, one or both  might have mouthed off like a punk, but it wasn't intended to be publicized.    That goes for both 45 and Rosenstein. Look at the shit Nixon got caught saying on tape.   Where has everyone been?

A description of Rosenstein's supposed state of emotional distress in the article gave me some agita.  People get jizzed.  Maybe he's a nervous type.  Barney  Fife.  He looks sorta' like him, no?   Anyway, I don't want to cloud up your morning with too much of my bullshit.  I just like to hulk out an alternative point of view.   Why the fuck not?







Please give this a read, and don't let it put you off your waffles. I'm jiving.

I feel like a oogy ogre for scaring up a few paltry counterpoints to the Kavenaugh fracas.   It's possible that a history of sexual assault has nothing to do with his ability to serve on the Supreme Court.   The Constitution  doesn't have tits to squeeze.  The way it may apply in a court case has nada, zito and diddly to do with a possible juvenile offence of any kind.  All right, Rowe Vs. Wade is a big red flag to my counterpoint, and I support all feminist positions with regard to reproductive freedom.  That aside, and if he did grope her, it still doesn't prove he can't render fair verdicts.  

Shitsky, I'll have to back-slide again.  Anything pertaining to the disposition of sex crimes could be compromised if the judges have more skeletons than Ted Bundy.  But Peckerhead Kavenaugh hasn't been convicted of anything, statutes of limitation zipped off, and here's maybe  something, okay, cheesy, maybe relevant:  The victim is a psychologist professor, Ph.d.    Problemo. 

 If the assault even took place, the perp was a juvenile.  I'm not citing law, but it could be an ethics issue that a mental health professional would go public with a juvenile offence.  Those cases tend to be handled with much greater confidentiality than those of adults.   The university to which she is attached could incur damage if she turns out to be a lying sack, and if it's opined her conduct is poor professional conduct for a Ph.d level shrink.  I hate myself for bringing this up, but wouldn't a psychologist be able recover from trauma by now, if the therapy works as good as hoped for one and all, patients at large and her?  I haven't heard one public personality mention the issue of public confidence in head shrinkers.   She could be making them look like assholes.

Another thing. My personal experience with those professionals is that they are quite, quite capable of lying, acting unethically in partisanship, and of course, of being a dirty snitch who is being paid to lie.   Universities and the medical establishment, alike, are  a vast weasel city.  Look what a cunt Big Pharma is. 

That's all the shit that's fit to opine.  Don't let me give you a headache.   I'm just a circumspect  little munchkin.   Try to be broad minded.




Monday, September 17, 2018

I'm still cloning people who deserve it (fictitious BS)


Got it, got it. It's in my locking tweezers, surgical stainless steel artery clamps off ebay, it must cost nothing to get your kidneys retreaded in China, I have some of Virginia Woolf's DNA. It's a very prim, anti-structuralist Kotex, those old limeys used to make the things out of parchment, like the Constitution, and it appears she was a heavy hitter on the monthlies.

I stole it. Dressed up all Brooks Brothers. Rented a dip-shit looking sedan. Made out like I was from the Cape area. Limeys eat that garbage. Now my picture is up at the post office. Cocksucking legacy group hates me bad. One of those bogus Bloomsbury Groups. I can't stand those histrionic posers. They're planning to put my eyes out with a pitchfork. They'll never get past my F 150 with turbocharger.

It appears she menstruated in a flow of consciousness format. There's more than enough hair and  Chef Boy R Dee to clone one of the most important ideals of feminism. Woolf is a literary icon. She was ragging up a storm just before she hiked the sea weed mile and checked out. I may be in posession of the last hurrah.

I got the chemistry set spread out on the kitchen table. I got all these nice things for the spare room in the back of my trailer, too. Shouldn't be any problem explaining why all of sudden there's a kid that seemed to come out of nowhere. Most people in this park have worse explanations for themselves and family. If I told them I brewed up Virginia in a mason jar, it would beat their curriculum vitae, I can tell you that. She's going to be president of the United States in just. maybe, thirty five years and change. It's going to be significant. What I'm doing right now is significant. Its for you. I'm doing this for you.

Saturday, September 15, 2018

We need to get cloning.  There aren't any people fit for the presidency left, at least for the next thirty five years, but if the right dead stalwart could be Xeroxed right fucking now, there might be hope for people tuning ten in the next century. 

 I'd clone Malcolm X and groom the little gridder for slightly more centrist world leadership.   Maybe Malcolm didn't choose his friends all that wisely, but he had guts and a rip-snorting good political platform.  I'd vote for him now, but he's dead, so if he still has some DNA to pitch into the stone soup, that would be nice. There are other paradigm shifts to program through practical bio-engineering.  Poetess Sylvia Plath.
Flag Counter We need to clone Sylvia because she is the only alternative to the current model of feminism that could possibly sell.   By the time Gloria Steinem goes senile and Linda Sarsour retires to a penthouse in Dubai everyone here will be ready for the more diffident Sandra Dennis type of progressive.  We need a Smith/Vassar type.  It's going to be the 60s all over again, with casting couches for all sixteen gender sub-classifications.  Can't wait.  Taking vitamins.   We all need more sex and poetry readings. 

Here's a prima fascia case:  Mark Twain.  There must be a few snippets of his mortal coil persisting against  long entropy.  There's a good old boy I think everyone would vote in, no questions asked.  Clone Mark Twain.  The prick was unimpeachable.







Fresh Intellectual Blithering...same subject as last.

Lord knows I may be a compulsive-ass motherfucker.  Obsessive-ass, too.  Here's a rehash of some dookey I want to go on record saying:   NYT columnist Paul Krugman has shit for a brain, Noam Chomsky is a devolving  sellout and a victim of globalist infantilization, and Tom Steyer is cancer of the do-gooder project.    In his case, it's a community sing-along to get Trump impeached.   He's a puke. 

Vicious and incompetent parasites turn up in all social classes.  Krugman's economics is a fairy tale that excludes most of the middle and all of the labor classes.   It excludes ordinary tax payers who pay for all the programs.  By endorsing guaranteed unattainable wage scales, wage earners don't get shit.    Chomsky and Steyer have been on the inside of a super plush luxury petrie dish for so long that neither can conceptualize reality. 

Steyer trades on wealth for him and unattainable hopes for the poor folk.   He is your space commander, you are his space cadet.   Mean ugly capitalists are persecuting you, and he's using his billions to liberate you from Trump.  It's asinine. 

Daily life since 9/11  has been like Orwell's gloom-orgy novel, 1984.   We are all in a global studio wrestling match with foreign and domestic faces and heels.  I wish Trump was an even mix of JFK, Margaret Thatcher, Virginia Woolf, Malcolm X, Eldridge Cleaver, and Laurence Olivier, but he's what's at bat.  Opinions will differ, no problemo.   Impeachment is asinine, since the whole White House and legislature  is a permanent state hospital for the criminally insane.  It's like jailing a shoe salesman for selling shoes. 







Monday, September 3, 2018