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.”  


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?

Yankees Acquire O’Liberte’

The New York Yankees continued purchasing the world today by picking up a right-handed flame throwing reliever, Statue O’Liberte’.  Despite hailing from nearby New Jersey, the statue was signed to a fifteen year contract.

Yankee’s manager Joe Girardi stated, “I am not sure how many times O’Liberte’ will see the mound but, at 305 feet tall, she’ll sure be an imposing figure around the bullpen.”

The organization feels that the over 200-year old reliever still has a few good years left in her

“The righty is only a few years older than Roger Clemens,” added Hal Steinbrenner, “and look how well he worked out.”

The Yankees still face several daunting hurdles, however.  A French glove maker was immediately commissioned to start working on the mitt for the new reliever.  Construction is estimated to take a few years longer than the, yet to be started, downtown Freedom Tower.  Also, the toll set by the Mafia-run Port Authority to transport the statue to-and-from each ball game may top Obama’s upcoming stimulus package.

“At least we’ll save time on chiseling the law book out of her hand,” continued Steinbrenner. “The Bush Administration already loosened it sufficiently.”

The Ghosts of Brewers Past: Philly’s General Lafayette Inn

Mick Zano

The para-abnormal research team consisted of Ranger Rick, who both led the investigation and set the pace (three pints an hour), Pierce Winslow, our tech-guru (who wrote the whole thing off as a business expense), Pokey McDooris, philosopher and sideshow attraction, Timmo O’Frynn, driver and camera man, Bob Krazmoski, treasurer and straight man, and, yours truly, Mick Zano, addiction counselor/beer enthusiast.

Our story begins in 1778 in the General Lafayette Inn when only two brews flowed in the tap room: Yankee Brewdle Dandy and Loyalist Lager (which was poisoned).  Back then the locals knew the Inn as the Three Tuns Tavern—famous for both its alliteration as well as its happy hour Jagerbombs.  During the Revolutionary War, General Lafayette, a Frenchman who fought for the Americans, found himself cornered at the Inn by British troops.  Realizing, to his horror, that jagerbomb hour had ended, Lafayette planned his escape.  He challenged the opposing generals to snooker and darts and then snuck out the backdoor while the British were ordering drinks.  This account, incidentally, is fellow Discordian Dave Atsals’ interpretation of events.  I personally believe that Lafayette stayed for the beer and then snuck out before it was his turn to buy.

After the sun goes down at the Lafayette Inn the staff has reported strange occurrences—aside from the owner’s infatuation with finger puppets.  The corridors are haunted by the ghost of an old woman, bitching about the shoddy service and the lack of clean towels. There are lots of unexplained noises (other than Krazmoski’s less than pleasant reaction to onions…and finger puppets.)

Our para-abnormal investigation started with an intense two hour vigil in the bar area, which, after some pub grub, moved into the small, and quite haunted, pool room.  It is said that ghosts of patrons past often prop up the left corner in an effort to level the damn table.  In the wee hours, the hotel staff has reported strange wraith-like specters endlessly scratching at the ball return in their futile search for quarters.

For the next six hours we thoroughly interviewed several waitresses as well as one of Ranger Rick’s ex-girlfriends who, by all accounts, had a nice set of pookageists.  We took a series of pictures (mostly of those luscious pookageists) and used state of the art recording devices for our EVPs (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) to discover if the waitresses dug us.  One waitress seemed amused by our antics, but this—as is often the case—wore thin about halfway through her shift.  (This is a metaphor for the vast majority of my relationships.)

One waitress ended her workday only to return some time later in a more social capacity.  She was shocked to find us right where she had left us—in a drunken stupor, flittering with the next shift.

By then our investigation had moved from the stout and porter to the cask-conditioned IPA, which by all accounts was hauntingly yummy. As we dug deeper into this spooky site, several mysterious happenings unfolded.  These occurrences can not easily be dismissed or explained.  Despite hours of patronage, Bob never did try the well-crafted, hand-pumped porter.  More compelling still, Timmo ordered the French fries, yet never touched them, and, perhaps most queer, Pokey…

At one point I snuck up into the banquet room, but I couldn’t find any doors leading the lodging area.  Apparently, the only lodging on the premises involved a guest house around back.  No one sleeps in the main structure anymore, with the notable exception of Timmo who passed out for a short time in the men’s room.  The staff we interviewed knew of the ghost stories, but none had any recent experiences.  At around 2AM, however, something truly blood-curdling occurred.  The bartender stopped serving us alcohol and asked us to leave.

We asked if we could hold a séance after last call, but our pleas were met with only consternation.  It wasn’t like we were asking them to serve us drinks after hours—well, we did ask that…but it’s a reasonable request, right?  After all, to be in tune with the spirits, one must imbibe them, right?  Our impromptu séance by the restrooms availed us nothing, but we did manage to wake Timmo.

In desperation, we tried convincing several waitresses that sometimes a phenomenon of this type manifests around a particular person and is not connected to the actual structure itself.  The only way to rule this out was to go home with them and conduct a thorough investigation.  But alas, we soon found ourselves in the parking lot, chickless, clueless, and ghostless.  Luckily we agreed upon a three day investigation. We decided to meet up the next day for lunch—you know, when what’s-her-name starts her shift.

Our Obama Wish List: Please Restore…

  1. My 401K
  2. My House
  3. The Constitution
  4. The Bill of Rights
  5. The Justice Department
  6. U.S. Torture Policies
  7. The Global Market
  8. The Arctic Ice Shelf
  9. Our VP office (preferably someone not perverted by a Sith Lord)
  10. Oh, and lose Fascism, but please stop before you hit Socialism

You have six months, bitch.

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Dear Ghetto Shaman,

I recently read your book entitled Ten Spiritual Lessons for Drunken Clubbies, and I found it stunningly demeaning to women.


Flo Petersen

Portsmouth, NH

Dear Flo,

If you think that was bad, you might want to stay away from the second book in my women studies series entitled Battery Operated Vibrational Healing. Just a word to the wise.

The Ghetto Shaman


Dave Atsals

Can you pay $28.00 dollars for a knee brace sold on-line for $545.00 and feel ripped off?  I do, thanks to my last escapade with my son’s Orthopedic Doctors Office, and my insurance company.  Bring on government run health care, it can’t be any worse than this, I hope.

Please read this disclaimer before reading on:

[If you continue to read more of this article you may feel discomfort on the level of having a large non-vibrating instrument stuck up your ass.  You may also come to realize why your insurance rates are so high and why your Doctor, his accountant, every, and any, medical insurance agent, and of course the lawyers are all driving Hummers, and how we pay for them.]

I received a bill yesterday from my sons Doctor’s billing company for the amount of $28.00.  This was for a knee brace he needed due to some knee surgery.  One might ask, “So why does Mr. Atsals feel discomfort on the level of having a large non-vibrating instrument stuck up his ass?”

It is because of the first line which reads:

Charges Pay/Adj Bal. Due
$1142.00 $1114.00 $28.00

This is not a joke. The orthopedic office claimed $1142.00 from the insurance company for the knee brace which is on sale at for $545.00.  The insurance company then forwarded $1114.00 to the Dr.’s office and billed me the difference of $28.00.

On second thought it might just have been worth the $28.00 for the convenience of waiting a week for the doctor’s office to get the knee brace in and then being able to pick it up, instead of having it delivered, for free, right to my door.  After all if I paid for the brace myself and did not have the $598.28 taken out of my check for my insurance this month I would have pocketed $53.28 this month.  Hell for $81.28 I could buy Mick Zano a Hummer from his favorite Thai hooker.  (Note to Mick: 53.28 + 28.00 = 81.28).

Setting the Record Straight: A Daily Discord Apology

Setting the Record Straight: A Daily Discord Apology

Good journalism means owning up to one’s mistakes. Since our debut in September we have made precious few journalistic boo boos, but here they are in no particular order

Pierce Winslow

Chief Executive Officer

‘Smelly Pirates Captured by Indians’ Headline Should Have Read: ‘Somali Pirates Captured by Indian Navy’

On December 13th in New Delhi, India, the Indian Navy, not a tribe of bow and arrow wielding Apaches, captured the 23 Somali pirates in question.  Regrettably, as it turns out, the Tomahawk missile joke was not only offensive to Native Americans, but was also egregiously inaccurate—to say nothing of our Long John Scalper reference.  Our sincere apologies to any offended primitive redskins.

‘Sun-sized Twisters Appear on Earth’ Headline Should Have Read: ‘Earth-Sized Twisters Appear on Sun’

Sorry for the mass panic, damage to property, and loss of life.  Our official response to this fiasco is “oops.”

‘Indians land on Moon’ Headline Was Completely Muffed

Well, as it turns out folks, it was the country of India not Native American Indians.  The unfortunate “scalp some Martians, bitches” comment makes even less sense now, and is unfair to extra terrestrials everywhere.

‘Texas Cheney-saw Massacre’ Headline Should Never Have Seen Print.

Pierce Winslow takes full responsibility for this error. Whereas it is plausible that Vice President Dick Cheney would travel to Crawford Texas and hack the Bush family into sausages, to the best of our knowledge, it never happened (yet).

Putting the Mental Back in Fundamentalism

Mick Zano

Your assessment of fundamentalism is as flawed as your pal the ghetto shaman’s Barely Legal Kundalini Cruise (never again, by the way).  You insist that there are elements of traditionalism that are fundamental to our continued evolvement as a species.  Whereas this is inherently true, few, if any of these societal guidelines needs be legislated by our marred and battered legal system. What our laws need to focus on in the twenty-first century is mutual respect and mutual respect alone…you know, Ron Paul country.  If the spirit of mutual respect can be infused through our laws and our legal system (sorry, that’s too funny) then and only then will we retain this foundation of which you speak.  By respecting each stage and each level, and by allowing each individual to remain precisely where they are in the spectrum, is all that is necessary.  All the way from our Crank Manifesto’s orange/blue rants to our Ghetto Shaman’s…ahh, you know, I can’t actually figure that guy out.  By the way, the Ghetto Shaman has moved to Florida and is sending us his ‘column’ each week on badly stained bar coasters.  

Most of the traditions you insist on schlepping along, Mr. McDooris, have little to do with enlightenment.  Didn’t the Buddha himself abandon his family to become a carnie and then randomly killed young women for fun?  OK, maybe not…  You win that round, McDooris.  As for your other rebuttal: my personal ire for the Proposition 8 vote stemmed from the fact that so many people were motivated to overturn an existing law.  This is particularly disturbing when one views this vote from a historical context. Yes dear, our retirement plan has collapsed and, oh, the American way of life seems to be crumbling all around us, unemployment is up, and our neighbors are now homeless and hungry, but let’s take this opportunity to raise money to mess with the gays.  Our Crank’s argument, let them (Christians) have it, can easily be argued the other way.  Let them (gays) have it.  If you don’t believe in gay marriage Father Flannigan, stop frequenting those websites.  The retraction of that court decision would be a slap in the face for any group.  When I mess with gays it’s at a place called Peaches and Court and usually involves a very bad karaoke rendition of Mack the Knife (as God intended).

Pokey does have one very good point (besides the one at the top of his head).

You are very right about abortion. The rules surrounding abortion are too important.  Defining everything, in this particular instance, is crucial. Unfortunately, here’s the part where progressives tend to don their regressive caps.  The fact is, you can be a proponent of abortion rights and still realize that Roe vs. Wade was a ridiculous ruling.  Huh?  Yes, yes, black-and-white thinkers, I know—does not compute.  Study the decision and then get back to me.  I’m going to leave it at that.  I’m not in the mood.  Whether you are pro-choice or pro-life, it was the singularly strangest decision in American history—except maybe that time Dave Atsals was found not guilty of lewd and lascivious drunkenness.

The rest of traditionalism need not be legislated in any way.  These lifestyle choices will be decided individual by individual.  Granted, our collective trends may or may not destroy our culture, but our legal system can not, nor should not, be the champion here.  Mutual respect will allow the best chance of every person to achieve his or her best level of consciousness. Nothing else is necessary for our species to optimally embrace an integral worldview.  In other words, a hands off approach on the part of our legal system does not mean we will lose our ability to springboard your ‘project consciousness.’   In fact, it is a necessary ingredient for this consciousness soup you are brewing.  Speaking of brewing, why did that judge acquit Dave of lewd and lascivious drunkenness?  I mean, if you had been there…what else could one call that?

Bush to Cancel Obama’s Honeymoon Period

For his last act in office, besides doing number two in the middle of the Lincoln bedroom, George W. Bush has cancelled President Elect Barak Obama’s honeymoon period.

“I’m afraid he’s going to have to hit the ground running,” joked Bush to reporters on Thursday, “especially if old Dead-Eye Dick has anything to say about it.”   Bush warns that the transition may be unusually violent.

“Biden better watch his ass,” added Bush, “because the V.P. apparently refuses recognize the new administration, or anyone else for that matter.”  Washington insiders believe the Vice President suffers from something the doctors are calling Age-Related Executive-Expansion Disorder (AREED).  Unconfirmed reports suggest that Cheney will shoot at anything that approaches his property line.

In a phone call to the V.P. elect this week, Bush warned, “Proceed with caution…Dick really wants to remain head of Homelawn Security.”

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Ask The Ghetto Shaman

Ghetto Shaman,

When you said you had ‘private healing sessions,’ I thought you meant you had a secluded workshop or something.  You sick bastard!  I feel so dirty.

I’m suing your ass!


Dear Kristin,

All things done to your privates were done in the line of duty—except maybe the part with the snorkel.  Besides, I have no fear of lawsuits, young lady.  I answer to a higher authority…the Lycoming County Parole Board. 


The Ghetto Shaman.

THE CRANK MANIFESTO: On Al Cranken and Minnesota Politics

The Crank

DIE, DIE you Troglodytes, DIE.

There, I got that out of my system. Al Franken? AL FUCKING FRANKEN?

Failed funny man Al? Failed FM radio host Al? Failed radio fundraiser Al? Forty-nine fucking votes Franken! Are you people kidding me?  Senator Franken…Senator Al Franken.   One more time, all together…Senator Al Franken?  Are you people wood?

Aren’t you the same developmentally disabled constituents that elected a “wrestler” as your Governor?  Not a real wrestler, mind you, but anI’m not a real wrestler but play one on TV’ wrestler. Have any of you mangy middle-earth compu‘tards seen your wrestler lately? If Mel Brooks had waited until now to film Young Frankenstein just think of the money he could have saved on make-up and special effects.  He could have gotten Jesse to play the monster role for the price of two lousy neck-trodes! Poor Peter Boyle had to endure hours of miserable time in a make-up chair to look just like Jesse Ventura does now. 

Wait a moment…that’s it! Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction; let’s use the brain of Gene Wilder to balance out Ventura’s abby normal brain.  It’s perfect!  Now, what to do about Frankenwhine.  How many comedian brains would it take before he could shift to anything resembling center?  Franken leans so far left that he has to keep his driver-side window down to see forward.

Ultimately, I don’t have to live in Minnesota, so these elected pre-lymbric single-helix mutiods deserve each other. Franken, Reid, Pelosi, Dodd & Frank can join Ventura in a historic line dance rendition of Puttin on the Ritz for all I care. Every state has their loons, but Minnesota is like the eternal flame—the torch that all flying freaks seem to gravitate toward. What is it, the water? Something in the air?  What? 

I know, I know, you’ll leave the light on for me, right?  Keep burning that pyre high, bitches, and maybe some of my fellow Discordians will make that northward Midwestern Mecca. 

If only…

Attempt to Fly Texas Panhandle to Gulf Deemed ‘Abysmal Failure’

If it truly is all about location, location, location, then the desolate Texas panhandle is fated to remain the barren wasteland that it is today. Gulf front property is allegedly the real inspiration behind the multitudes of ‘wind generators’ dotting the northern Texas landscape.

“We’re sick of being permanently wedged between the suckier parts of Oklahoma and the suckier parts of Texas,” states project manager Biff Ayers.  “Why should gulf towns have all the fun?”  Ayers is not discouraged by the fact that the 26,000 square-mile landmass has not moved an inch since the onset of the covert operation: Project Institute Mobilization of Panhandle (PIMP).

“In retrospect positioning the fans to face north would have helped,” admits Ayers.  “It’s just as easy to get these things right, you know.”  The Daily Discord is astounded by the naivety of this ill-fated endeavor, and our own CEO Pierce Winslow believes it would take “easily twice as many fans” to get this plan off the ground.

Help, I Accidentally Turned on Hannity’s America Last Week!

Mick Zano

I really don’t watch Hannity’s America, for obvious reasons, but what with the world ending and all, there was nothing else on…and, well, I guess I was kind of wondering if he was exhibiting anything resembling one of the three “R”s of incessantly wrongful journalism: remorse, regret, or reality. 

Admittedly, I only caught 20 minutes of the show as I had to turn on Saw II periodically to de-escalate.  But I have to say that I am truly stunned by how this guy operates.  He spent his hour-long show, or at least what I could stand of it, praising Bush. You heard right: an hour-long show, and—get this—he listed Bush’s “accomplishments.”  How many times can one say, “We haven’t been hit again since 9/11” and “Bush’s tax cuts should remain permanent”?  I suggest Mr. Hannity learn how to say them in other languages, to add both variety and a certain panache.  The most stunning thing uttered was this exchange between The Hannster and Karl Rove (paraphrased for your reading enjoyment): “Bush inherited a recession from Clinton—a recession—but where was the media outrage then?  Sure, now we’re in an economic slowdown….”

An economic slowdown?

I repeat: an economic slowdown.

W. inherited a “recession,” but this is an “economic downturn”?  Hannity can’t even say “recession” when a Republican is in office and never did mention the word to the best of my limited knowledge of him, unless of course referring to the “Great Clinton Recession of 1999,” where many a young executive consumed only 17 Mocha Deluxe Frappuccinos a day instead of 18.  Granted unemployment was up for a time, but the country stabilized relatively quickly.  This situation is a tad different.  And here is a prediction about Mr. Propaganda: He will only be able to say “depression” when he puts the word “Democratic” or “Obama” in front of it.  Trust me on this one. 

Now, I realize that Ann Coulter found a way to fill a niche.  She saw a business opportunity and plays things over the top, in the same way Howard Stern picks his questions for the barrage of naked lesbians flooding his studio.  Sean, though, is a White House spokesperson…but does he really believe the shit coming out of his own mouth?  I psychologically assess people for a living and often determine whether they need psychiatric inpatient care.  I have made my assessment.  Dr. Killpatient, have the Thorazine ready. 

Throughout the rest of the hour-long show, Sean repeatedly bludgeoned Al Gore for not practicing what he preaches and for politicizing global warming.  I actually agree that he has a point on this one—one I won’t even argue—but let’s juxtapose the articles in the paper from the same day that his show aired, shall we?  Funny thing; no Gore articles.  One news article discussed the arctic ice shelf’s precarious situation and how it is currently on the verge of collapsing outright, and the rest of the Drudge Report was filled to the brim with mind-numbingly bad news for the economy—again, all ignored.  Sean “forgot” to mention these current events during his Bush victory lap.  Oh, and let’s not forget his first riveting segment on Blagojevich and how corrupt all Illinois politicians are (hint, hint: Illinois). Who else is from Illinois?  Hmmm…? 

There should be warnings for this show, like “May induce vomiting,” or “Do not watch if taking nitrates, as this may cause an unsafe rise in blood pressure.”

Thank God for Saw II.