The Audacity of, “Nope”

Has anybody else noticed how Obama uses the same George W. Bush style tactics to pass his policies through Congress? 

“If you don’t let me take a trillion dollars from the tax payer’s children and grandchildren RIGHT NOW, then we’re all doomed.”

Isn’t this the same politics of fear?  Remember when George Bush gained the right to invade Iraq or when he passed the Patriot Act?

“Did Congress even read the act?” we asked. 

Well, why don’t we ask that of this 1000 page Stimulus Package?  Has anybody really read it….Bueller, Bueller, anyone?  How do I know Obama isn’t just paying back all of those scumbags who got him elected?  By the way, where the hell is this trillion dollars coming from, Madoff Enterprises, or maybe Stanford Inc?

Why should I believe that the Federal Reserve, the Congress, and the Obama Administration aren’t simply exploiting our country’s spiraling demise?  Stop everything and take a deep breath; let’s go through this package step-by-step with the American people.  Explain why this stimulus package will benefit our economy rather than harming it.

Thus far, I’ve given Obama the benefit of the doubt.  Just because his friend and Pastor shouted racist rants in public, doesn’t  necessarily make Obama a racist.  Just because he has friends who insist the world would be a better place without America doesn’t make Barak Obama anti-American.  Just because he kissed the ass of every sleazy politician in-and-around the Chicago area to gain power doesn’t mean he’s a sleazy politician.  Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop giving Barak Obama the benefit of the doubt.  Let’s start calling a spade a spade (am I still allowed to say that?). 

Barak Obama is an aspiring tyrant in the tradition of Mussolini, Fidel Castro, and Hugo Chavez, who would do or say anything and who would sacrifice all of our liberties to benefit his own power.

Top 10 Jobs Created by the Stimulus Package

  1. Bankruptcy Lawyer
  2. Crises Worker
  3. Suicide Hotline Operator
  4. Grave Digger
  5. Drug Dealer
  6. Thrift Store Specialist
  7. EMT  Worker
  8. Government Economic Advisor
  9. Security/Police/Military or, better yet, Military Police
  10. Discord Consultant/Editor/Contributor

Marijuana Linked to Losing Sponsors

A study conducted by Northern Arizona University showed a significant correlation between recreational pot use and the losing of massive financial sponsorships. The study looked at seven people at random who had already lost major amounts of money due to revealing pot party photos. Michael Phelps is only the latest victim in a long chain of similar situations, often involving bowls and blunts and bongs, oh my. Professor Schmidt “Smitty” Stoltz, nearing both tenure and senility, suggests that famous sports figures should go back in time and stop their friends from taking pictures of them while in the process of smoking pot.

Ghost Writers in the Sand

In the blazing January sun, Bald Tony and Mick Zano drove the 38 miles south from Las Vegas toward the infamous Pioneer Saloon in Goodsprings, NV.   Goodsprings, NV is smack dab in the middle of nowhere, NV, which is in no way affiliated with Nowhere, AZ (a real one horse and one bar town near Prescott). The Pioneer Saloon is allegedly where Clark Gable pined for Carol Lombard after her tragic decision to go to the nearby Idle Spur in Sandy Valley instead (or something like that. I’m not much of a historian—Tony, even less so).  The backroom is filled to the brim with old black-and-white pictures and historic newspaper clippings.  The very back wall is an altar of sorts to the great Clark Gable, a man who apparently never actually set foot in the joint. 

Frankly, my dears, I don’t give a damn. 

The place is like a polder, a closed-in Universe, where the bartenders are always trying to pour you another one, you can never quite find the door despite your best efforts, and ‘the next thing you know you’re pinned to a sophomore named Chip.’ What movie?  Despite the exigent gnawing fear that the place was some Hotel California-esque desert trap, we ordered another round.  I could smell the colitas rising up through the air…whatever the hell that is. 

This archetypal western-style saloon is truly one of the great American hangouts.  It is cozy, atmospheric, and steeped in history (most of it bullshit).  There is an outside seating area, front and back, and always plenty of friendly motorcycle gangs to pass the time with.  There is a general store off to the side of the building that sells both water and flavored water, for all of your re-hydration needs. When we arrived, sometime before 11AM, the place was already packed with whiskey drinking bikers. Of course, as if on cue, the Doors’ Roadhouse Blues belted out of the old-style jukebox in the corner (no shit.  I think it’s a law or something).  Oddly, we had already ‘woke up that morning and got ourselves a beer.’ 

“Grolsch,” said Tony, tipping back his bottle, “it’s what’s for breakfast.”

Can you guess what the Discord gang rode in on?

After setting up camp in the billiard room, lined with memorabilia, we found our pool skills weren’t the only thing scary in that haunted backroom.   Sadly, there was already a Weird: Las Vegas article hanging on the wall.  Foiled again by our arch-nemesis!  They’re always one step ahead of us.  While perusing the article in question, the main bartagonist poked her head around the corner and dove into the history of this authentic western watering hole (didn’t even have to ask this time).  Cindy Niles, one of the main barkeeps, had a much different story to tell than our Weird friends—a story happily involving copious amounts of Grolsch.  Sometimes when Cindy is alone in the bar, she reports seeing unexplainable movement out of the corner of her eye (even when taking her Prozac), which today may simply have been Tony recovering his tips.  She reports having even chased these peripheral apparitions into the billiard room, only to find the room empty.  Our pic of the billiard room revealed a mysterious green orb that, once again, turned out to be the spirit of Kazoo (the little bastard keeps turning up like a bad penny).

Cindy explained the Weird: Nevada authors were “full of shit,” and she was horribly misquoted in their coverage of the Pioneer Saloon.  In keeping with our esteemed colleagues’ theme, she went on to say:

“The Daily Discord is responsible journalism at its finest.”

— Cindy Niles

Cindy told this Discord reporter four separate ghost busting groups have staked out the place at different times.  When the last bunch, a group of four, came busting through town, she got three of these ghostbusters “stinking drunk.”  The boys in gray slugged it out with a pretty pesky poltergeist, then stayed on to dance the night away with some of the lovely ladies who witnessed the disturbance. What movie?

The Pioneer Saloon is truly an awesome stop and Cindy is a great hostess and a talented barkeep.  If you ever find yourself driving through the groovy jumping wasteland southwest of Las Vegas, do yourself a favor and do what Carol Lombard did…go to the Idle Spur in Sandy Valley instead.  Kidding!  This is a worthwhile destination for any bar crawler or paranormal enthusiast.  Just beware of Kazoo.  He’s a pool shark and apparently keeps stealing Cindy’s tips.

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Dear Ghetto Shaman,

You are such a prolific writer, where do you recommend beginning?  Reading your work out of order, well, it just loses something. 

Sincerely,

Jake Schmidt

Reno, NV

Dear Jake,

I wrote my first book during my ‘long night of the soul,’ which I called Bernie.  At the heart of my pre-enlightened period, I wrote my first book:  Plants Speak to Me, Women Don’t.  I wrote this before I was a Shaman, but after my period.

Sincerely,

The Ghetto Shaman

AC/DC Admits All Nineteen Albums Really Just One Long Song

Angus Young of the Australian hard rock band AC/DC admitted during a congressional hearing this week that all nineteen of the band’s studio albums were written during one lost weekend in Sidney. The drug-induced recording session occurred in early 1973 while under the influence of beer, whiskey, and a powdery substance, possibly crystal meth.  The band originally named the twenty-seven hour long song AC/DC.  This title only became the band’s name after the 73’ recording session, primarily because the next day no one could recall their original name (which Mr. Young believes started with a B). On a related note, Adult Protective Services are currently pressing charges against the band’s manager for the long and grueling exploitation of these severely mentally ill individuals.  Dr. Stempen would like the band members to know they can always “come home.”  Food and injectable psychotropic medication are ready upon their arrival.  Dr. Stempen wants Angus to know that the wardrobe rules at Fairview Pines have relaxed.

“You can wear your knickers whenever and wherever you want.”  Shirts are now only required during visiting hours.  Also, the nursing staff has completely forgiven Malcolm for the “sponge bath incident.” 

Mikko, Mikko, Mikko

The Crank

First off, it’s painfully obvious with your rather word-y response to my rant that you have WAY too much time on your hands and WAY too much access to useless information—unless, of course, you harbor the secret desire to be the next William Ef Buckley. Perhaps Charles Johnson’s interpretation of Mahasatipatthana sutra might help, wherein blah, blah, dispassionately examine evidence, blah, blah, product of past conditioning blah, blah, blah. Say fucking what? That, Mikko, expends way too much hot air. Think of global fucking warming the next time you release that much hot air recklessly into our fragile ecosystem.

Let’s get one thing straight from the get-go; I AM the 800 lb gorilla in THIS fucking room. (Uh…my picture?) Though beige I might be, no less gorilla am I. Second, after watching what good do-gooders have done for this world, or lack thereof, and mainly what being a do-gooder has done for the do-gooders themselves (re: you and your family) for the last fifty plus years, I have made a command decision to stop you all in your tracks before you do any more fucking good for you or the rest of us. I have had enough good to last a fucking lifetime. I am good to go, so good riddance to all of you good for nothing good eggs.  Good damn it! 

Where I come from this turn the other cheek shit will get you killed, or at the very least poor and friendless. Its obvious to me that no one with a carbon-water based anatomy can be trusted once they get to power.  The phrase “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely” will appear on my tombstone.  Look what happened to the northern Germans when you put a Klingon-esque uniform on them. Yes, all life CAN be Trek-Related. If you listen carefully, Klingon does sound juuust a little German.  Why do you think Hitler had such bangs?  He was hiding his forehead ridges.

It doesn’t seem to matter what the politicians say or what they are campaigning on, they all do the same shit when they are in office, and, the young of this world take no advice from their elders. History ignored is history repeated, and you mindless lemmings believe everything you hear, looking up at the podium as if it’s an altar of truth.  Can you say Sich-fucking-Heil, anyone? I sometimes wish bullshit had the color and odor of its namesake.  Even the “journalists” of this generation forget just what the fuck their real job is. Quotes like: “Even the sea gulls hovering above feel the humanity” and “when I listen to him, I get a feeling running up and down my leg?”

Are you kidding me?!

Although the faces have changed in the pressers, nothing else has. In the immortal words of Steven Tyler, “it’s the same old song and dance.”  The same buddies are picked for positions they have NO fucking right or ability to occupy.  The same laws will be changed to fit the current regime. The same useless pork will be spent without regard for the applesauce. They will all have the same disdain for “the little people”. The aristocracy will always feel we lack the academia or the expertise to have a say in anything, and should just “let them do what’s needed.”   Fuck them.  I have spent 50 + years learning by watching, some of it after discovering Ritalin!

I don’t like anything I see…anything! Well, maybe Adderal.

That, you see, is why at some stage, some of us just can’t take it anymore. Young liberatards, not unlike yourself, who have not experienced life as we older folks have, WILL either come to this realization sooner or later, or DIE sad, wondering why it all went down the shitter.

SO, rather than go to bed each night all frustrated and worried, I rant at you! It makes me feel much much better and I sleep like a dead ape. THAT, my little friend, is what it’s all about for me at this stage. 

Yours Unruly

Goomis

Al-Qaeda to Close Twenty-Seven Training Camps

A desperate Al-Qaeda is ramping up its rhetoric against the Obama Administration as members are leaving their jihad training camps “by the droves,” stated Abdul Abdul Abdullah to our own Bald Tony during an inappropriate on-line chat last week.

Desperate for an edge in the PR wars, Al-Qaeda is considering increasing their afterlife compensation.

“We are considering upping the ante to 82 virgins in the afterlife,” stated Abdullah. This is a limited offer, void where prohibited.

The terrorist group is doubtful the new strategy will work, however, as a recent Al-Qaeda poll suggests most jihad savvy Arabs really don’t know what to do with more than twenty virgins anyway.  Al-Qaeda is disappointed with recruitment in recent weeks.

“Obama is bad for business,” stated Abdullah.  “Bush was doing a fine job, but now there is hardly enough hatred to go around.”

Abdullah fears an outright end to hatred, which would force him to grow-up and get a real job, perhaps in the gay porn industry.  In the wake of this new age Al-Qaeda is setting more realistic expectations.  Instead of using their bread-and-butter chants like ‘Death to America’, they are considering more achievable goals like ‘Death to Jersey.’  It is hoped that this shift in objectives may gain more support inside as well as outside of the U.S.

“Most agree at least Newark should go,” explained Abdullah, “even Bruce Springsteen, if cornered.”

Fear And Loathing With Mr. Giggles

I love walking out my front door without a plan. Destinationless, I step into Limbo and keep trekking on a whim. This Limbo road is long and lonely, but we continue in pursuit of the perfect sanctuary hangout with lively atmosphere, inside art, outside garden, refined beverages, and characters all sizzling with inspiration. This method has stimulated much spontaneous creativity, frequent synchronistic encounters, heart-pounding adventures, a handful of citations, a restraining order, and one public gastric disruption described in court as “serving no legitimate purpose.”

It’s not the particular place, it’s the state of mind, and yet an establishment can institute an atmosphere, character, and quality that encourage this state. Wit spews from the lips like rabid rivers of lava burning and drowning us dead and awakened into our dawning enlightened life…or else I could end up in Carl’s at last call (part dive bar, part Clockwork Orange) pinned to something vaguely feminine.

The true greatness of a coffee shop, brewpub, bar, or diner shall be assessed by its potential to facilitate cultural experiences that are spontaneous, dynamic, and profound. This intangible quality is the most important element of any hangout.

As a cultural facilitator, my job is to transform parties into art exhibits and art exhibits into parties. There are certain criteria to consider. The setup should encourage a free flow throughout and amongst all social circles.  We can read or reflect alone, spontaneously jump into a conversation with strangers, or lead naked conga lines.

In order to stimulate the spirit of enthusiasm, an establishment must play good music that compliments the atmosphere, characters, and mood. Provide quality goods and services, and expel anything that inhibits this ever-important soul transformation (except my friend Shag).

Spatial limitation can strangle the life out of festivities (that’s m’s job). Be careful to consider the feng shui of the place and encourage a flow that keeps the energy circulating. Time limitations also inhibit enthusiasm. This ‘last call’ experiment has failed miserably. Some of my best festivities don’t get full-flailing until dawn.  On that note, drunk tanks should have breakfast specials.

Electronic gadgets distract people from the possibility of authentic interactions and have no place in social settings. I don’t even like to see cell phones in public. Once, two people sat in stools on either side of me speaking into their cell phones. I think they were talking with each other. Look people; if you want to isolate yourself inside the grid, please do it at home. I’m here to party.

Take the television for example. It’s not possible to mingle amongst different groups or spark unplanned adventures if everyone is hypnotized by the boob tube. I have two pieces of advice for all bars regarding televisions:

  1. Unless you’re trying to be a sports bar, don’t have televisions.
  2. Don’t try to be a sports bar.

Fifteen years ago, I vowed to never pay for cable again. This was the greatest decision of my life (sadly, this is accurate. I really haven’t made many good decisions).  Along with this choice, I have taken steps to better tune my awareness to the spirit of authentic culture. Throughout these years, I have continued eliminating electronic gadgets and machinery from my life. Some have argued that my position is reactionary and irrational, leading to a decay in my living standard. Certainly these technologies bring their conveniences, but there is always a cost. Commitment to true art must take priority over comfort, social status, family, friends, and even my own biological survival. So now, no TV, no cell phone, no internet (not even e-mail), no car, no phone, no video games, and no electronic pocket massage toys (well, I haven’t given up Mr. Giggles).   No one is perfect.

Pork, It’s What’s for Package

On the hill this week, U.S. Senator James Inhofe (R-OK) declared Obama’s nearly trillion dollar package as “93% spending and only 7% stimulation.” The Obama Administration was quick to point out that all of Bush’s recent 700 billion dollar stimulus package went to the crooks who “got us into this.”

Barack Obama is pleading with the American people for patience and told reporters during his weekly radio address “You must understand that politicians are not going to stop being crooks overnight.”

Team Obama is trying to hit home the message that change is a gradual process. When questioned about Senator Inhofe’s estimation of his stimulus package, Obama responded, “You have to admit that seven percent is a modest improvement over zero percent and that is math you can believe in.”

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Dear Ghetto Shaman,

This may be a hard question, but could you come up with one quote that captures the essence of your teachings?  I am really seeking some ‘meaning of life’ stuff and have admired and respected your work for a long time. 

Sincerely,

Jackson Stoltz

Bakersfield, CA

Dear Jackson,

Clearly the most moving statement comes near the end of my work entitled The Spiritual Art of Skull Fucking wherein I tell the feathered serpent: “You haven’t lived until you have performed Der Ring des Nibelungen naked.” 

I hope this helps…

The Ghetto Shaman

SpankenCranken

Mick Zano

Goomis, Goomis, Goomis. Not all of life’s lessons can be explained by Star Trek episodes.  Besides, it’s much more like the one when the shuttle crash-lands on that planet, only to be assailed by large rock-hurling giants. (Although, I’m not exactly sure why it’s like that.)

This is going to come as a shock to many of you, but I suffer from Bush Derangement Syndrome (BDS). Fear not, fair reader, for slowly my world will return to normal now that there is some semblance of leadership in the White House. And by normal, I mean, of course: no home, no job, no retirement, and no food. I’m going to miss the American way of life. Give me some time to mourn, for Pete’s sake!  Haven’t you ever heard of the five stages of the grieving process?  Perhaps this recent example will help:

  • Denial (He’s a Yale man and his dad was kind of sharp…)
  • Anger (Torture! The Constitution! The Bill of Rights! The Justice Department!)
  • Bargaining (If I vote straight Dems for the midterms, maybe impeachment…)
  • Depression (Well, Canada has hockey and beer…)
  • Acceptance (Hey, Canada has hockey and beer!)

What confounds me is your endless vitriol aimed at anyone expressing a perspective. Whereas I direct my ire toward a group of individuals responsible for breaking the country—spiritually, morally, and otherwise—your ire involves an ideology: some quasi-nebulous possibility that certain educated tree-hugging types might be bad for our country. Are all educated people indoctrinated by crazed liberal-leaning professors, or is there something more sinister at work here? All of the people you are so angry with have a valid and noble perspective. Pollution = bad; constitution = good; destroying the rain forest = bad; peace = good; dependence on foreign oil = bad; nationalism = good; but too much nationalism = bad. And, most importantly, torture = bad (unless a safe word is first agreed upon).

For the most part, FOX News is not conservative—it’s ridiculous. Not the whole thing, mind you, but FOX-ers generally champion the shittier parts of the fundamentalism (amber) and entrepreneurial (orange) realms. The shadow side of this perspective has led us into a blind alley that some of us refer to as 2009.  I understand what Wilber now designates as “amber” and “orange” have to offer; but they, on the other hand, are missing the 800-pound gorilla in the room: themselves.  Some posit that liberalism may hold even greater dangers. This is where we need the Sean Hannitys and Pokey McDoorises and, yes, even the Crank Manifestos of the world.

Higher perspectives understand and appreciate more perspectives. This color coding is not meant to demean. It’s hologarchial by design (which means nested), not hierarchical.  It’s not a contest.  There are important aspects of each perspective, but there are also heaping piles of horseshit in each perspective.  My view is that FOX News represents the sicker parts of amber/orange, just as Michael Moore arguably represents the sicker parts of green, and the Daily Discord represents the sicker parts of lower integral (so you’re in good company).

Ken Wilber asserts that integral practice involves improving one’s ability to understand more and more ‘nuanced’ perspectives.  You claim I am the flipside of Sean Hannity? I assert that Keith Olbermann is the flipside of Sean Hannity, which is why I critiqued Mr. Olbermann so harshly in a recent article. You are way too liberal with what, and whom, you define as liberal. Integral thinkers will go where the truth leads them, avoiding ideology whenever possible. Many people lumping all higher perspectives as liberal and can’t see the rainforest for the trees.  This is usually done by picking one bad example from a given perspective and then trashing the whole paradigm.  There is surely a vast difference between the Dalai Lama’s fundamentalism and Pat Robertson’s, right? 

Christopher Hitchens would just as soon ditch all fundamental thinking. While I agree most of it is problematic, at best, I think folks like the Dalai Lama have an important message for humanity.

Despite my Hannity insanity, I will defend his right to spew his propaganda.  If—or, more accurately, when—Obama backs the Fairness Doctrine, he will be hearing from the Discord. It is unconstitutional and, like most of Pelosi’s ideas, utter crap. And you should be annoyed about Obama’s “coronation,” but you should be more annoyed with the people who made a coronation a reality. You know, your guy.

Ultimately, my rants are part of the healing process.  Perhaps Charles Johnson’s interpretation of Mahasatipatthana sutra might help, wherein he suggests everyone should “dispassionately examine evidence, tame their minds, know where their thoughts have come from and be able to distinguish what in the mind is the product of past conditioning and received opinion (political ads and propaganda), what thoughts are genuinely their own, and what their desires might be projecting on reality.” 

The trick is to see important aspects from each perspective, in your case other than entrepreneurial (orange). One of the core principles of a more integral philosophy, as Ken Wilber asserts, is to “face our limitations and learn from them, rather than responding with defensiveness and denial.” There are inherent truths from each and every viewpoint, but the more skilled we get with these perspectives—each ever-increasing in complexity—the deeper the level of consciousness attained. In other words, fuck you.  ( :

Discord Horoscope

Aries (March 21-Aril 19) Your Hyundai will explode leaving a better handling black thing in your driveway. Bad week to eat licorice.

Taurus (April 20-May 20) You will be controlled by aliens from Rigel 4. They will make you act out the funnier American Idol episodes.

Gemini (March 21-Aril 19) Avoid dangling midgets.

Cancer (June 21-July 22) Flatulence will be a problem in the weeks to come. Dealings with a financial consultant will leave your frigid.

Leo (July 23-Aug 22) Befriend the elk, give him a home. Bury all that oppose you in the root cellar. The elk is the way to salvation. Good time to finish that project you’ve been postponing.

Virgo (Aug 23-Sept 22) Stop being a dick to your employees. Stop being a dick to your employer. You’re such a dick.

Libra (Sept 23-Oct 22) If you persist in the art of love, you may strain something. The setback may be costly, so befriend a doctor. Bring him a knick knack from the garage.

Scorpio (Oct 23 – Nov 22) Don’t wear your ripped Jim Beam shirt to the board meeting. You’re sock is under the couch. I wouldn’t risk retrieving it.

Sagittarius (Nov 22-Dec 21) Couples need to renew that romantic feeling. Seek out a very special place with meaning for just the two of you and set fire to it. Spread the ashes in the shape of a pentagon and kill a goat (say what you want, but it beats public television).

Capricorn (Dec 22-Jan19) Don’t wear a cap unless you plan to taunt squirrels. Tonight: battery run devices loom large in your love-life.

Aquarius (Jan 20-Feb18) Avoid extravagance. If you see the worked extravagance in a public place, kill it. Try not to worry about your poofy hair.

Pisces (Feb9-March19) File harassment charges against a random stranger. Improve your tennis game at the expense of others.

The Crank Manifesto: On Hannity & Zano, a Match Made in Heaven!

The Crank

Sean Hannity, Micko? You couldn’t resist seeking out the only other person on this whole whirling shithole of a planet that can’t let go of George Bush. Did you just happen to tune in on America’s Newsroom with Megyn “Long-Legs” Kelly and Bill Whateverthefuck? No. Did you just happen to tune in on FOX & Friends with Gretchen “Up-Skirt” Carlson? No. How about The FOX Report with Shepard “I’z-Only-Read’n-Wuts-on-de-Teluhpromptr” Smith? No. Not even The O’Reilly Factor with Bill “See-My-Reflection-in-This-Window” O’Reilly? No. It just HAPPENED to be Sean Hannity, a man whose idea of going “green” was buying a Cadillac Escalade Hybrid. BULLSHIT! You’re looking at a mirror image of yourself, there, Micko. Like when the transporter divided Kirk into the “Good” Kirk and the “Bad” Kirk on Star Trek. Alan Colmes got so all-fucking tired of hearing it he quit! Where can an old funny-looking Democrat with a Roswellian-shaped head and 4 million memorized talking points find work? Oh yeah, there’s always MSNBC, where all bad journalists go to die.

FOX News Channel does have other shows that are much more mentally or visually rewarding, depending what’s on your mind (what little there is of it). I can watch Gretchen Carlson for hours with the sound off and find myself strangely satiated, sort of like watching Xena reruns on the queer channel in the middle of the night. I can listen to Megyn Kelly for hours as she makes interviewees look like Neanderthals. I laugh my ass off every evening watching Shep Smith try to talk. There’s also the FOX News brother channel, FOX Business, with Alexis “Can-You-Spell-Cougar” Glick in the morning, or Rebecca “Cuchi-Cuchi” Diamond and Cody “Jumping-Beans-up-My-Ass” Willard during Happy Hour from, of all places, the Bull & Bear Saloon in the Waldorf Astoria. Come on, your Mickness, try it—grow as a person. It’s not too late, no matter what your daughter says.

Why don’t we hear about the fucking 1.5 TRILLION dollars spent on the coronation—er, I mean, “inauguration”? If it were McCain spending that much, you liberal know-it-all fucking idiots would barely be able to walk, what with the raging hard-ons you would all have in anticipation of the media enemas McCain would be receiving.

I’ve got it! It’s like the Star Trek where the guy that’s half black and half white goes into a locked time warp to fight the guy that’s half white and half black for all time. You and old Sean could sit in a sealed room across from one another for all time, debating the great GWB—and no, I don’t mean the bridge. When the Daleks dig up what’s left of our hemorrhoidal civilization in 10 thousand years, they will find—hermetically sealed (hemorrhoidally sealed?) in a locked vault buried deep in a secret military installation in the mountains of Utah—Micko and Sean, locked in a never-ending battle, still debating the same 16 fucking talking points until the end of time.

In the immortal words of Senator John McCain, when he was stopped by Maria Schwarzenegger on camera and asked how he felt upon losing the presidential nomination eight years ago, “Go away, please. Just go away.”

Yours Unruly

Obama to Compromise on Immigration: Will Build Giant Wall Around Bush’s Texas Compound

Obama explained that sealing Bush into his Texas compound only became necessary after the former president violated his orders and attended a women’s basketball game last week.

“We will let Mr. Bush off of his ranch if and when it is deemed safe,” said President Obama to the backdrop of cheering crowds on Wednesday.  Whether the move is for Bush’s safety or the country’s remains unclear.  A plan to have Mr. Bush paint the phrase, “Next time I am President, I will defend the Constitution not my stock options” a thousand times on the inside of the wall is gaining popularity with key Obama Administration officials.

“As for Cheney,” continued Obama, “we are trying to find a suitable undisclosed location for him…in Syria.”  Obama explained aspects of Operation Penguin Pluck, wherein it is hoped Mr. Cheney will learn, first hand, the error of his ways.

“By his own definition, he is easily labeled an enemy combatant, so no lawyers will be necessary,” explained Obama, who described the plan as “some good clean reservoir-dog style fun.”

When reporters pressed Obama on the danger of Cheney’s knowledge falling into enemy hands, Obama replied, “You’re kidding, right?”

The Articles Of Degeneration

The letter of the law shall never be permitted to strangle the Spirit of the Law (unless, of course, the spirit and the law agree upon a safe word first).

Article 1: All persons including patrons, barstaff, drunks, and derelicts have the un-ale-ienable right to life, festivity, and the pursuit of lap-dance chicks.

Article 2: The right to bare women.

Article 3: If the keg kicks before the beer is filled, the remaining brew is given to the patron for free. (The kicked pitcher dilemma has yet to be determined by the Fatty Liver Society (FLS).)

Article 4: All pint glasses must hold at least 16 fluid ounces.  Ten ounce pints?  Fuck you!

Article 5: All standard pints must be cheaper, per ounce, than standard mugs, and all pitchers must be cheaper than pints. (Does not apply to happy hour specials.)

Article 6: The bartender or barmaid may refuse alcohol to any patron for any reason…except on the basis of religion, race, gender, or affiliation to the Daily Discord (you know who you are, barkeep!).

Article 7: All jukeboxes must display the number of unselected songs not yet played, or else the staff must refund money paid for un-played songs (Notable exception: all ABBA and Phil Collins songs are non-refundable).

Article 8: The ‘play now’ option is forever banished from the bar scene (I don’t care how much cash you’re willing to spend, butting in line is unkegstitutional).

Article 9: There IS no Article 9.

Article 10: If wing dings are served instead of chicken wings, then the word ‘ding’ had BETTER appear somewhere on the menu description.

Article 11: Televisions detract from the authentic party experience.  No televisions allowed in bars (unless you are a sports bar).

Article 12: Don’t be a sports bar.

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Dear Ghetto Shaman,

I am very disappointed in a book I read of yours entitled:  Superconsciousness Through Vodka Binging: The Fifth Way.  I think you are a tad off-message here, and, as a parent, I think the world would be a better place without your ‘teachings.’

Pam Stengle

Taos, NM

Dear Pam,

What? only a tad off??  My teachings and my master have taught me not to react to criticism personally….bitch.

The Ghetto Shaman

Flagstaff’s Infamous Monte Vista Hotel

Mick Zano

The Monte Vista is the centerpiece of downtown Flagstaff, AZ.  The hotel is also believed by locals to be quite haunted.  Built in 1926, the old structure stands as a testament to the ingenuity of the new world’s frontier pioneers, the people of the land, the common clay of the great American west…you know, morons.   The hotel is complete with a Phantom Bellboy who reportedly—and I’m not making this up—knocks at random doors and in a muffled voice says “room service”.   Talk about an unimaginative afterlife. 

All over the hotel, I reenacted the Phantom Bellboy’s antics in true SNL fashion and for effect added, “candy gram” and eventually “land shark” to the mix without incident (paranormal incident, that is—I was asked to leave).  John Wayne is believed to have seen this bellboy ghost while staying in the Bing Crosby suite (the John Wayne suite was apparently occupied by Rip Taylor).  Mr. Wayne’s encounter was a friendly one, and the bellhop appreciated the generous tip. 

“I’m not gonna tip ya, I’m not gonna tip ya…like hell I’m not.” 

Well, I’m sure the exchange went something like that.

Ghost sightings include a meat man, a bank robber, and a dancing couple—thankfully not at the same time. Most disturbing of all, the persistent sounds of a baby crying can often be heard from the basement.  Apparently, this haunting sound has sent many hotel employees scrambling upstairs for more formula. 

Jon Bon Jovi is said to haunt room 305, despite the fact he is reportedly alive and well and living in Middletown, NJ.  I realize that sounds made up…alive and well in New Jersey?  Once the Bon Jovi Suite was depicted on an Unsolved Mysteries episode and is allegedly the most actively haunted room in the hotel.  Strange poltergeist activity is reported in the suite and an old ghost rocks in a chair by the window—perhaps driven mad by the endless Bon Jovi tunes.  What a way to go…  Down the hall is the Air Supply room, which I found surprisingly stuffy.  From the suite, tenants report hearing the haunting sounds of “whoa, we’re half way there, whoa, livin’ on a prayer.”  The vast majority of these guests describe the haunting sounds as “deeply disturbing”, but most are just thankful it wasn’t In and Out of Love. Unfortunately, the image below does not have the actual picture of Bon Jovi on the door as this reporter copped the image moments before snapping the shot. Drat! Next time snap first, steal second, snap first, steal second. It’s as easy to get these things right, you know.

My original enthusiasm for covering this story involved the only truly compelling paranormal experience ever directly experienced by a Discord staffer.  My sister Deana, a Discord Business Consultant, awoke in the middle of the night after being flicked in the center of her forehead by an unknown entity.  This is a true story, hopelessly wedged in an otherwise typical Zano article.

Her husband adamantly denies any part in this unexplained occurrence.  When she awoke, she reported a red welt in the center of her forehead.  Here is the freaky part: other guests have reported being flicked in the night at the Monte Vista…by my sister’s husband!  Damn you, MJ!

During the night in question, the couple stayed in the Gary Cooper suite, which is cattycorner to the Bon Jovi Suite. You are welcome to stay there, if you feel lucky…well, do ya?  Oh, wait, that’s Clint Eastwood. 

My sister is a true skeptic and remains so to this day.  In fact, she questions her own testimony and is pressuring herself to submit to a lie detector test.

I am writing this creepy caper from the hotel itself…actually from the Rendezvous, a martini/coffee bar just off the hotel’s main lobby.  Do you want to hear something really scary?  A bone chilling occurrence just happened while writing this very piece.  While doing a web search for Bon Jovi on my laptop—a necessary research evil—I inadvertently stumbled upon a site that started playing a Bon Jovi song, loudly! …in the middle of the martini bar! 

I am still shivering.

“Whoa, we’re half way there, whoa, livin’ on a prayer.”  

Shudder.

On the way out, I cut through the lobby and questioned the woman at the front desk.  The young lady, known only as “stop asking me questions, creep,” said she didn’t know of any recent occurrences in the hotel. 

For those traveling to Flag, there’s also a wonderfully seedy bar in the back corner of the Monte Vista, as well as a Thai restaurant on the far corner.  And, if that’s not good enough, there’s a Thai restaurant across the street, a third is down the street a couple of blocks, as well as two more on the way home.  Arizonians are apparently Thai fanatics, perhaps driven to foreign foods by the incessant sounds of Bon Jovi’s disembodied crooning.  If Bon Jovi doesn’t haunt this town, he is very likely to do so someday.  This is simply a theory but, after all, isn’t he the one who implores us to Never Say Goodbye?