Funny, I said the same exact thing about methamphetamine.  This will be my last rant against Fox News and George W. Bush.  You don’t believe me?  Would I ever woefully mislead my fateful readership?  I’m not the Ghetto Shaman, for Pete’s sake.

This hateful post was inspired by Newsweek.  They had this article involving the top movies about high school.  Out of the 15 listings, which included Clueless, Heathers, and clueless women named Heather, there was no mention of Fast Times at Ridgemont High.  Nothing.  I can’t make this up.  Well, I could, but I didn’t this time. 

So I was drinking Tequila yesterday, listening to Greenday, and watching waaaay too much Fox News, or as I call it "the weekday special" …maybe I should drink waaaay too much Tequila and avoid cable news all together. 

Yes, I’m going there again, but only because even I am flabbergasted how much worse the facts keep getting.  No, I don’t use the word flabbergasted lightly.  The unease people are facing now, amidst the economic collapse, gives me hours of amusement.  At least people are finally embracing the suckage.  But they still don’t know how we got here!  Well, that all ends today.  I tried to guesstimate our fiscal woes a few posts back and, as it turns out, I stand corrected (or blog corrected).  It’s actually worse for the Bushies.  I have been waiting a long time for these numbers from the Congressional Budget Office.  Really, I’ve done nothing but wait patiently for this info—besides the four Bs, of course: boozing, boinking, blogging and BimboGladiators.com.

Arizona’s Governor Janet Brewer is brilliant! I will never call her democratically challenged again.  She is killing two birds with one stone.  She is cutting most funding for the severely mentally ill, while she lets every undocumented felon carry concealed weapons, everywhere and anywhere: bar, state park, church function, or cock fight.  At first I thought, what an idiot.  And then I thought…clever girl!  These things will just work themselves out over time with little to no cost to the taxpayer. 

There’s a current bias toward moderates these days. It’s an essentially meaningless word, like the dollar. The Crank feels people are really in the middle of most issues and that the nuts portrayed in the media are nothing more than good entertainment. I don’t think if you take Spiral Dynamics seriously, which I do, you can so easily dismiss the different perspectives at work here. Nine states want to secede, and I happen to be living in one of them. I want to secede too, but not for the same reasons they do. Someone needs to do something about reality television and open container laws! See?

If you think the last presidential election was swayed by advertising and the almighty dollar (I donated a five spot), just wait to see what the future holds.  America’s Court Jesters, aka the Supreme Court, recently made a ruling that will change the face of politics forever—and not in a Botox, cheek-tuck kind of way.  These Jesters sing for the King and Queen with coats they borrowed from James Dean.  The SCOTUS decision allows corporations limitless advertisements for their handpicked candidates.  The move was actually defended by the likes of Mitch (cognitive age decline) McConnell.  "Our Democracy, Inc. depends upon free speech^®, not just for some but for all^™."

Zano, you make your living by doing very necessary and commendable things that you hope and pray the Government will eventually pay you for. If you aren’t employed by someone making bombs or bombers (or, in your case, Costco-sized medicinal marijuana outlets), you have relied too heavily on the Lib/Dem faction of Americana for your daily ration of beer and snausages. You’ve based your likes or dislikes of politicians on how much of the taxpayer’s money will be given to your little project. That’s how we differ. I was brought up in a household that rated anyone by the total amount of deli food you could purchase from our little project. A deli, for those living in the southwest, or in space, is a place you can buy wholesome ready-to-eat real actual formerly living things type food, in a non-nationwide-chain format.  A place owned and operated by someone who actually knows how to cook.  Our income depended on the money that the citizens had to spend, after Uncle Sam had sucked his ration of vitamin "B" from our collective carotids. Uh, that’s the way I thought capitalism was supposed to woik. Granted, your way is healthier, but ours is way more fun…

I don’t blame anyone for holding out for hope.  I knew Obama’s chances of saving the world were slim, but I also thought holy shit! complete sentences! Unfortunately, the Obama illusion is just that—an illusion.  We few sentient creatures left amongst the patriotard wasteland have realized, long ago, that no one is driving the proverbial bus.  But, on the bright side, what a decade for political satire, eh?!  Makes me want to start an ezine blog thingie. Here’s the Discord decade in review: Clinton (circa 2000) was riding the Lewinsky, which is a metaphor meaning diligently protecting our country, and then things got really stupid for about eight years, and then came hope, which we all hoped would help (Hip Hope joke omitted by Winslow). 

Prior to this year’s Thanksgiving feast, my sister sent me out into the wilds of Phoenix to retrieve something called a gravy separator. She typically chooses a "special job" that matches my talents (aka: a job that even I can’t screw up).  There is long history here of bringing back the wrong cooking sherry, the wrong cranberry sauce, or the wrong homeless person that I met at the bar on the way over.  She obviously decided to throw care into the wind this year by sending me to a large kitchen store.  This was clearly above my pay grade. It was not some recent increase in confidence, mind you, for the ‘just pick up some ice’ fiasco was still fresh on her mind (ice also has a drug slang connotation).   

This yarn is embellished approximately one-to-five percent due to age-related cognitive-decline, also known in certain Discord circles as Dave Atsals’ Syndrome (DAS).  This tale is going to sound fictitious, like many of my stories, but I can assure you that those who knew me in the eighties and nineties would understand.  You see, I settled down in the twenty-first century, when Dean Moriarty somehow morphed quietly into Ward Cleaver. Anyway, back in the Bruce Springsteenesque glory days, the night was dark and stormy.  OK, the moon was very full, which may or may not have inspired me to dress like Lon Cheney’s version of the Wolfman.  You know, old school.  This was before American Werewolf in London, before Underworld, or even before Old School, for that matter.  Back in those days we only had Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, and Warren Zevon to frighten us.  If that didn’t work, my GPA usually did the trick.  

Nowhere, AZ - My Saturday started out typically enough.  I left the house around 9:00AM to hit the trio grande of local coffee shops, then a bookstore, then lunch, then a beer.  I drank enough caffeine over the next several hours to give even Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas the jitters.  I snagged a used copy of the Tibetan Book of the Dead and then, quite uncharacteristically, embarked on a solo bar crawl (typically I invite friends for solo bar crawls).  For my first drink, I decided on a place called the Wine Nook and ordered an Old Rasputin.  Reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead called for compatible refreshment.  Four attractive women were sitting at the end of the bar.  They introduced themselves. Apparently, it was the brunette’s birthday and they were in for a weekend of partying.

Some aren’t going to buy what I’m peddling today, but that’s OK.  It’s still America, no matter what the Discord’s CEO thinks (Commie bastard!).  First off, my writing is not designed to offend the many dickwads that don’t get it.  At least one individual is wondering about this color coding thingie (CCT) that I keep mentioning in my posts. You will be hearing more and more about Spiral Dynamics, Transpersonal Psychology, and the evolution of consciousness, because the truth has a tendency to stick around, like the Ghetto Shaman after last call.  Of course, on the downside of this subject matter, anything even hinting at a hierarchy of ideas is always met with condemnation, er…like the Ghetto Shaman after last call. 

We are getting some feedback here at Discord Central and, though it pains me to admit it, not all of it is good.  People are starting to comment on my sinicism.

To my critics I say, “how could I be synical if I can’t even spell the word?”

Despite the mountain of facts to the contrary, more and more readers feel I am pessimistic, dark, and, according to at least one Crank, prone to bouts of verbal diarrhea (which doesn’t even make sense in this venue).  Today, here and now, I hope to dispel these unfounded rumors.  Think of this post as a short-term, blog-cleansing diet.  I have taken and solved many of the challenges we humans face in the early 21^st century, and, more importantly, I’ve placed these solutions into an easily digestible table format.  Click on the Read More button and, well, read more…

A friend and fellow Discordian, who would like to remain Mickless, recommended we all register on Facebook, and I hate him for it.  I opened an account, a public one, no less, and thanks to Pierce Winslow’s great idea to use public accolades instead of our real names, well…let’s just say I’ve gotten about what I deserve.  NOTHING. ABSOULTELY NOTHING.  Facebook, or no, the expected herds of adoring fans have yet to materialize.  The sexy blonde female stalkers have not overwhelmed my home page.  In fact, I haven’t even had any hate mail.  Nothing, nada, nichts.   Worse yet, despite the endless spam ads assaulting my web searches, the awful truth is: there are absolutely no hot single women in my area waiting to talk to me!  None!  It’s all a lie!  AHHHHhhhhhhhh! Distraught and disenchanted, I turned to the internet to search for my true popularity.  Wikipedia’s search results for Dave Atsals are as follows...

Don’t panic!  The noise you are hearing in the background is simply the sound of our social institutions collapsing outright.  Newsflash: America is going to change and change in a big way.  Our politics, our media, our language, our culture are all slipping into a deep dark crevasse (luckily, plenty are now forming on our glaciers to accommodate).  Our money is becoming meaningless, and we have discovered the root of all suffering, besides Oprah.  Another stimulus package?  Are you kidding me?  How many times are they going to hit the economy with those shock paddles before it’s time to shut off the defibrillator?  But, that’s the bad news. As promised, here is some good news...

When my fourth grade teacher, Mr. Healy, asked for potential solutions to our country’s refuse problem I thought, in my typical ‘hey, I’m only in the fourth grade but have the balls to raise my hand today’ kind of way, maybe we should send all of the garbage into space, or shoot it into the sun or something.  That was the general idea, and, no, I still haven’t gotten over his reply.  Now, he could have discussed the cost of such a venture, or the logistics of flying daily to the sun with a shuttle full of empty milk cartons, but instead my astute teacher, who always liked Kimmy Grenawitz best, said, and this part I remember quite vividly, “Space is the last place we want to pollute!”

Space; infinite, empty space; our sun, the giant yellow incinerator, thingie.  Whaaaa?

Since moving to the great American southwest, I have grown increasingly troubled by some of the local customs, color, and culinary transgressions associated with the high-desert peoples.  Normally, the thought of stopping at a jerky stand would never even enter my consciousness, but here, in the land of dirt, dust, and more dirt, I can not help but notice any and every business I pass in my travels, mainly because I’ve only seen four of them.  Somewhat disturbing was the moment I realized that the scant few ‘establishments’ found outside of civilization’s kindly influence involve a suspiciously high amount of jerky.  Two jerky related incidents struck me with considerable angst in recent weeks.  The first occurred north of Phoenix in a town called North of Phoenix where a fat man with a straw hat sat in the blazing heat selling jerky products to passersby.   It was over one hundred degrees at this particular moment in time and this man had no cold beverages to peddle, as if man can subsist on jerky alone.  I’m not just saying that…that’s what his homemade sign read: Man Can Subsist On Jerky Alone.  Granted, this is a free country, but that guy’s life insurance rates should be higher than mine, just on principle. 

The origins of clinical neuropsychology are rooted in efforts to address the effects of head injuries sustained by soldiers during World War II.  Neuroscientists prefer to study brains when they are not functioning properly, Abbey Normal, if you will.  In other words, why wait for the next world war?  There is a wealth of knowledge studying Bush and his minions, right here, right now (Jesus Jones, 1990).  Bush can, and should, be studied in every psych 101 class.  He is the quintessential example of almost every brand of tortured logic.  Robert A. Burton, MD has recently spent a great deal of time studying the neural underpinnings of knowing, and what he discovered, much like Pokey’s fascination with the Shit Goblins, is both intriguing and frightening.  Dr. Burton looked into how we know what we know, and his answer is surprising (he doesn’t know).

We long for a mathematical certainty of political allegiance leading to higher levels of human life and culture. Right now in the political world, there is only one thing certain: our system is overrun with corruption, deception, insanity, stupidity, and, of course, shit goblins.  What is Enlightenment? Issue 38 states that we can indeed unite and evolve to a new stage of culture.  Thank goodness, because Issue 37 said we were all fucked.  There is still hope for a real authentic social movement that includes and transcends all of the problems of the postmodern pluralistic worldview and its shadow side, aka, countercultural relativistic fatalism (CRF). 

Sorry kids, like it or not we’re heading smack-dab into what an old Chinese proverb describes as “interesting times.”  These special periods of human existence are chock-full of upheavals and heaping piles of uncertainty for the whole dysfunctional family.  What is coming, you ask?

What exactly is Goat Weed, let alone Horny Goat Weed?  Moving west has taught me many valuable life lessons, like the importance of staying east.  In the dank underbelly of some seedy Nevada truck stop, I found myself enthralled with a urinal condom machine (it wasn’t the first time).  On this metal cultural microcosm of western wanking were emblazoned the words "enhance your sex life with Horny Goat Weed".  Below were the words "Proven Effective".  Proven, not just "studies suggest", or "emerging research indicates", but "proven" to help me in an area that can always, always be kicked up a notch.  What the heck?  I’m not beyond enhancing my sex-life through 75 cent restroom novelty items.  Who is?  But what exactly is Horny Goat Weed?

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.

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. 

Dilemma?  Mwaah?  I have simply stated ad infinitum that America will not survive eight years of George W. Bush (Me, 2004).  I am not particularly happy about this development, because this is the country where I happen to get drunk a lot.  As to your point about the Bush years being over, they most certainly are not.  I’m stunned that this man is still making decisions (if you can call them that).  He just appointed a man who pissed away more money on this ‘bailout plan’ than, well…than Bush himself did in the seventies.  Let’s be clear, Barak Obama only has about a fifteen percent chance of limping this country along, but in the immortal words of Leslie Neilson, “There’s only about a ten percent chance of that.”

How do I condense forty years of life-knowledge into a single Discord column?   OK, more accurately, how do I fill the whole column?  After four decades, I find myself knowing suspiciously little—masters level little—on-line masters level little (or OLMLL to those who can still tolerate our lousy acronym jokes).  Whereas I have predicted many recent political events—or more accurately, their horrific ramifications—I hardly think it took much insight.  I’ve never felt smarter than any U.S. president, until now.  But thanks anyway, W, for playing your own small part in the boosting of my self esteem.  Granted, it’s at the cost of the American way of life, but che sara.  In fact, Che Guevara for all I care.

Wearing flip flops and a sweat shirt, I flip-flop through the channels as all these political analysts flip-flop on who flipped and flopped more. I flop in front of my computer and flip it on. My online search of ‘flip flop’ from the Marian Webster’s dictionary turned up...

The debate in question is an on-going one, waged over the past six years, between myself and fellow Discordian, Pokey McDooris.  Here and now I hope to land the knock-out punch.  Recently our rants have shifted to the societal collapse lurking at the edge of the collective psyche—a phenomenon I call the Scheisstgeist.  Our late night debates typically include our wasteland warrior mission statement (which is still in progress).  We also wonder, as integral warlord hopefuls, whether or not owning sex slaves will impede our chances for enlightenment.  Most importantly, we contemplate the logistics of brewing beer from bread and gobs of our own spittle.  In other words, we both agree America is in trouble, but we fundamentally disagree on how we, as a nation, got here.

I am worried about my friend, Dave. Unlike most of our fellow Discordians, Dave never made the successful transition from the bar scene to the coffee shops.  Dave never even made the ever important transition from the bars to the pubs either.  In fact, if memory serves, he never made the transition from junior high to high school, but that’s a different story (spelled GED, incidentally).

Something sinister has happened to Vice President Dick Cheney. My suspicions were aroused after viewing a video clip wherein Mr. Cheney alludes to the insanity of a regime change in Iraq.

As a duely appointed representative of the Coalition of Daily Discord Contributors (CDDC), it is my unfort...er, slightly unhapp…er, giddily merry duty to inform you that your services are no longer required.  I have sent armed escorts to assist you from your seat by the window at the coffee shop where you get free wi-fi /coffee/sex/whatever. Your laptop’s on-line capabilities will be removed and news shows will be blocked by your cable company. You will not get a final check because, well, you don’t get one now.

The following is a one-on-one interview with Mick Zano, or the Zanferatu of the Daily Discord. While I feel strongly that the Discord readers must begin to understand the real Zano, it was taking place during a particularly great short-skirted blond interviewing another great short-skirted blond on Fox News, so I was somewhat distracted.

Alex Bone’s new novel The Chronicles of Jack Primus will change your life!  It was powerful watching Bone’s main character Jack Primus grow from the kind of guy who would bash villains in the face with a steel pipe, to the kind of guy who would bash villains in the face with a six-pack of beer.  Talk about character development!

You keep doing it.  All of you!  Rick, your post is great—no argument (well, a little argument).  It clarifies the Dems stupidity. I have mentioned the role of Clinton’s de-regulations in my own posts (as well as Dodd and Frank’s culpability on Fannie and Freddie). It certainly factored into my original estimates.  But, as usual, you are focusing on one turd in the corner, while you continually fail to see the massive pile of excrement right in front of you.  No, not the Daily Discord (geesh, everyone’s a critic).

Collapsing Shack, AZ—All across Arizona the need for traditional 28 day Recovery Programs has never been greater.  In most states an individual must be addicted to certain types of drugs to qualify for treatment. Things like alcohol, crystal meth, pain pills, and cocaine addictions will get you in, but other substances like tobacco and caffeine will not. Some other problematic addictions, like gambling and sex addiction, will not get you help either. This has unfortunately kept people like Mick Zano on the streets.

Many years ago, when I saw the cast of Friends hanging out all night in some coffee shop, I thought, wow, here’s a fad that won’t last. I meant to say: Friends—an awful show—I knew coffee shops had a place in my future, in the same way that Jennifer Aniston and Courtney Cox probably did not.  I only came to appreciate coffee, and those gathering niches that serve it, after I actually owned the laptop myself.  Besides, what did we do in coffee shops before laptops?  Knit?

Christopher Hitchens is a god among men.  Of course, the atheistic cynic would never put it quite like that but, nevertheless, I would like to take a moment to both praise and condemn the self-righteous bastard.  If you have never checked out Hitchens, you should.  He’s a contributor for Vanity Fair and Slate Magazine, or you can always check out his website, The Hitchen’s Zone, where he pulls off a cross between Alfred Hitchcock and Rod Serling like no other.  He recently called Alexander Haig a "Neurotic narcissist with an unquenchable craving for power." This, of course, occurred when other people were paying their respects to his still warm corpse. In wake of the church’s child abuse cover-ups, he said the Pope’s "whole career has the stench of evil about it." Whereas the Pope is still theoretically alive, he is—in part thanks to Hitchens—the poster boy for the So, you weren’t really divinely picked, were you? group on Facebook …I would join this group but, unfortunately, I was divinely picked.  John Paul II did manage to keep that divine-designation-thing (DDT) at least somewhat of a mystery for a time.  Kudos to him.  The good news, Herr Benedict may move some folks beyond mere fundamental thinking (many out of pure disgust).  Hey, maybe God is still popenipotent, but maybe his picker is broken.  God is slated for Larry King Live next week, where he/she will refute Zano’s claims with the likes of: "I didn’t mean him. I was pointing toward that other bloke in the back with the funny hat.  Really…I was.  I wanted that fellow who would have stopped all the shenanigans with the young’ins and continue with my work and such.  No, I’m not talking about buggering, you stupid bastard."

Mr. Pernick, Obama is simply preparing you for something Republicans have put off thinking about for a long time…something called the future.  Your view of reality is as short-lived as that new Facebook group, Mohammed Caricature Artists of Damascus (has the meeting been moved to Wed., Abdullah?).  In the immortal words of Dan Akroyd, "Do you want to see something really scary?"  Try reading the UK’s defense plan for the next twenty-five years.  I have.  Soylent Green, it’s Brit folk.  I think sending them all that SPAM during the war has changed their DNA.   Now if we could only find a more eco-friendly way to upgrade yours…

To fully grasp this brewing global conflict, we need to understand the main players and their perspectives.  Despite popular belief, there are valid perspectives and decidedly less than valid perspectives.  This may not be politically correct, but it happens to be true.  Many liberals continue to labor from the misapprehension that all perspectives are equal, but there is such a thing as wrong and wronger.  For example, Bush (wrong) Osama Bin Laden (wronger).  Israeli occupation and sanctions (wrong), Palestinian suicide bombers (wronger). Christian Fundamentalism (wrong), Islamic Fundamentalism (wronger), Police Academy I (wrong), all the other Police Academy movies (wronger).

It’s time for a third party, a truth seeking party, a truly independent party, a Transcosmetic Party!  There is certainly a movement in America, but currently it’s brainless and leaderless (hint: when Sarah Palin is your keynote speaker, your movement needs a major laxative).  Our zombie zeitgeist moans on as the Teabag movement only adds to the unrest.  Having forty-percent of America ready and willing to vote-in any chimp with the tallest pointy white cap is not encouraging. Let me know how that Brown thing works out for you Massivetwoshits.  Populous outrage is one thing, but misguided populous outrage is quite another. 

How can you people insist Obama hasn’t accomplished anything?  He postponed a depression, he put a muzzle on Joe Biden—no easy trick—and he turned global warming into global cooling.  Not bad for one year in office.  Sure Obama is a bully, but he’s bending the rule of law for the powers of good.  OK, I’m kidding.  It’s just fun watching the patriotards squirm.  Have a czar, you’re gonna go far...  

For my last trip to Vegas, I decided to look beyond the flashing and blinking lights of Sin City and really rate this town.  Sorry, the blinking lights of Vegas are about as close to Christmas as you're going to get here at the Discord.  The biggest hurdle to my destination came in the form of a brewpub, the Boiler Room, in Laughlin, Nevada.  This pub, constructed like the bowels of a giant ship, had a sign out front that read: Thirsty Thursdays: All Drafts 1 Dollar.  It happened to be Thursday and I was, in fact, thirsty.  Hmmmm.  I opened my wallet and implemented an old college equation.  A dollar a beer, so if I have eighty-dollars in my wallet...then that means I have...er, carry the one...a shit load of beer!

With Climategate emerging and Al Gore's 'world fever' breaking a bit, It could happen tomorrow might now be renamed It could happen next Tuesday around dinner time. Of course, this is a long title that could use some editing, but the four main points won't change on this topic: 1) there are earthly cycles that we don't fully understand, 2) man's impact on this phenomenally complex system is not fully understood, 3) pollution = bad, and 4) strange things certainly are afoot at the Circle K. 

Nowhere, AZ - A few weeks ago the family had the flu, so I was stuck playing Florence Nightingale (any excuse to dress up like a nurse, really).  Trapped with the sneezy twins, I decided to try watching Fox News all day, or at least as much as I could stomach.  As the Crank asserts, the media needs to be critical and questioning of each administration—be the “thorn in their side”, as he put it, which is why I’ve gone from 20 to nearly 30 minutes of Fox News viewing per week (with frequent mental health breaks involving microbrews).  As it turns out, Fox is fun and educational!  Fine, it’s neither…but, I was trapped, and the only Netflix in the house were High School Musical and the second season of Sanctuary.  Women…

When something bad happens, like a Crank feature article, our instincts are to say, let’s make sure something like this never happens again, usually via a better life through litigation.  But this build-a-new-law strategy is usually counterproductive.  Have you heard about the family who took pictures of their kids in the tub?  They turned some glossies into Wal-Mart to develop and ended up losing their kids for a month to CPS.  Who knew long term babysitting could be so easy?  Fox News, sensationalism with zero forethought, dons its red cap of justice and flies in for the rescue.  The same shortsighted binary-thinking imbeciles who championed the laws that made this fiasco possible are now the most surprised by the ramifications of their deeds. Sadly, this is their usual MO (hint: they’re not horribly bright).

Amidst much chagrin, chest-thumping, and gnashing of teeth, this post highlights the problems of expanding public healthcare.  Sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do.  After all, the truth is the truth is the truth, lied Zano.  Government funded healthcare is complicated to the point of absurdity.  In fact, Managed Care has created whole swaths of self-important middle men and middle agencies that both spend and make oobs and gobs and loads of tax payer’s money while desperately trying to justify their own existence.  This is not uncommon in super capitalism land, which is another reason why this house of cards called the U.S. economy has less sustainability than a freshly baked Krispy Kreme in Crank Manor.

Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends.  The point of my last post, Mr. Crank (if that is your real name), involved the healthcare debate being hijacked by the propaganda arts, the Goebbels Peanut Gallery, if you will.  Those town hall paranoids were stoked by the “Fox Transmission”. Using fear in such a way has disturbing ramifications.  NPR just did a nice piece on this, but I never said there was nothing to fear (that was FDR).  Point being, this tactic is effective regardless of the issues being debated.  So for the healthcare debate, we double the number of those ‘real concerned Americans’ invading our town halls.  But sorry to break this to you, Cranko, our healthcare system is changing at light speed and not for the better. Your view of it is a rosy snapshot taken some years ago through a disposable camera now floating in someone’s unattended beer.  And I was clearly not championing Obamacare in my last post.  I stated that our current system ‘sucks ass’ and Obamacare is likely to ‘suck balls.’  What part of ‘sucks balls’ has you baffled? 

Listen up patriorards…oh wait, so you all put on your thinking caps, this is a Fox News Alert!  There, now that I have your undivided attention: the Bush legacy is inextricably linked to the Sarah Palin Phenomenon (SPP).  The only reason I mentioned Bush was to segue to the stupidity yet to come.  A vote for Bush Part Deux and then supporting Sarah Palin is not a position, it’s a diagnosis.  Doing the same thing over-and-over again and expecting different results is the definition of insanity.  Dr. Killpatient, have the Thorazine ready.  I am appalled that the same people who voted for Bush twice are enthusiastically supporting his female counterpart to set things right in 2012.  I am even more appalled that we’re talking about nearly half the country.  I never said you were alone, Goomis, it’s just that you should be.  As the “mental health professional” in the room with over six years of bachelor level education, when really it was only 5 ½ years, exaggerator, going from Bush to Palin is like divorcing your first husband for beating you and then marrying that sweet hunky guy down the street, who immediately starts beating you!  As my domestic violence therapist oftensays, your picker is broken.  But that’s OK.  These things are fixable, but the first step in the healing process is recognizing the problem.  This isn’t just a post, peeps, it’s an intervention. 

Beware!  The patriotards are reconstituting themselves, like those tiny Terminator droplets that reform when you’re not looking.  Patriotards are folks still confused and/or ambivalent about the Bush Administration’s legacy.  And, to set things right, they believe all this country needs is President Sarah Palin. A recent Rasmussen poll, my main reason for this post, finds 42% of this country ready and willing to vote for Palin in 2012.  Forty-two percent…this country…Earth, you betcha ya.  And this number will only increase with another attack.  One peep from Al-Qaeda and the patriotard hordes will seep out of the woodwork like, well, those Terminatorites.  As Bill Maher put it, after the next attack we’ll tear up the other half of the Bill Of Rights and Toby Keith is president.  This Rovian wave of nationalistic neurosis is the heartland of Patriotard Country.  You still don’t understand the patriotard menace?  Let me splain.  No, that will take too long.  Let me sum up…

During my last discussion with the Crank over Memorial Day weekend, we did manage to reach the spirit of compromise in several key areas. We decided on Star Trek for the movie and Coke and Guinness for the BBQ afterwards, but beyond that…  We actually do agree on quite a few areas and can reach a compromise, of sorts, on other important topics (like appetizers and side salads).  The one thing we can’t seem to agree on, in fact, we both get rather heated when mentioned, is torture.  Torture is a completely indefensible position and the fact that we are having this debate for so long only shows how deeply the Bush/Cheney ideology has mired us in an amoral funk not unlike my sophomore year at college.  The Crank feels, much like Cheney, that we need to go to the dark side to beat these guys, not unlike my junior year in college.  On some level I understand the ‘24 scenario’.  A dirty bomb is being smuggled into Baltimore and the guy sitting in our holding cell knows when and where. Obviously, we need to get that info and, if real techniques prove fruitless, we would strain some of the Geneva Conventions, as well as a few muscles, to extract that information.  We just have to ask ourselves, what would a reasonable person do in that situation?  In this scenario prosecutions would be unlikely, but to base our laws on that extreme scenario is ridiculous.

Team Obama claims to be 2nd Amendment rights advocates, but their voting record suggests otherwise. Time and time again, Obama has voted in favor gun control bills.   He even voted for a bill that would close several gun manufacturers such as Les Baer, Springfield Armory, and Armalite (among others).  Is Armalite designed for the gun-toter’s wives?  You know, with only half the calories as the leading handgun?  Our Vice President is perhaps even less friendly to the gun-toting NRA types and may well have had one of his minions pry Heston’s rifle from his cold, dead hands.  Perhaps more disturbing, the National Rifle Association has recently scored Joe the Veeper an F on his gun rights record.

Burbank, CA—President Obama made a very off color reference on the Tonight Show the other evening, so he must hate the developmentally disabled, right?  Granted, when I was thirteen, I named my bowling team Jerry’s Kids, but I’m not president, OK, so lay off.  Sometimes a gaffe is a gaffe is a gaffe, people.  He apologized, get over it.  On the other hand, our illustrious leader got a taste of his own medicine, didn’t he?

Real men are integral men.  Meditation increases blood flow to the brain, thickens the cerebral cortex, boosts immunity, lessens stress, promotes better sex, and promotes better everything, frankly.  In response to your ‘tribute to Cheney’ article, and other slams on yours truly, the John Wayne’s of the world have had their time.  Whereas I can commiserate with your touch of nostalgia; Bush’s cowboy brand of justice is out of style.  That is not to say aspects of this perspective aren’t sometimes necessary, but the people you champion consistently place personalities before principles (very consistently).

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!)

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.

During my recent interview with Christopher Hitchens, which occurred without his knowing, we—or more accurately, I—discussed his most recent book: God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything.  I originally titled this article “Hooray for the Hate-Monger Christopher Hitchens,” but my colleagues eventually nixed that idea.  Still squeamish about my recent Copenhagen foray into political cartooning, I heeded their advice.  I do, in all sincerity, applaud Christopher Hitchens, as both a journalist and a thinker.  I have thoroughly enjoyed the vast majority of his acerbic ruminations on any number of subjects. It is hard to argue with a rationalist, because they, by their very nature, tend to be…er, rational.  However, I cannot endorse the views he espouses in God Is Not Great, nor do I intend to stray into the dubious realms of irrationality.

I’m proud to notice how Mick Zano’s writing skills have sharpened with this recent move west; I only wish I could say the same about his reasoning skills.  On the gay marriage issue, Mick makes one valid point, and on that I agree—many people’s rational arguments against gay marriage are a mere mask for their deeper bigoted motivations.  Unfortunately, there are occasions when bigoted assholes make better arguments than Mick Zano.

I do not write this column as a proud defeatocrat, as an anti-American conspiracy theorist, or even as a terminal glass-half-emptier…I’m just calling it as I sees’ it, folks.  The next president will have one hell of a time turning the ship around: we, as a country, have hit the iceberg and are taking on water.  America is at that point in The Poseidon Adventure at which we can follow either Red Buttons’ character to the stern of the ship or Gene Hackman’s to the bow.  You might be asking yourself, ‘Weren’t the folks who followed Gene Hackman rescued at the end?’  You’re not getting it…I’m casting America in the role of Shelley Winters.

After this last eight years, it is time to assess our Global War on Terror.  Reflecting on events, the first thing that sprung to mind is Mission Accomplished.  Unfortunately, this is not in reference to the efforts of the United States of America.  In 2001 Osama Bin Laden voiced his main objectives—loud and clear for those listening—or at least that’s what they told me at that Afghani ‘training camp.’

Next up on our integral media roundup is none other than MSNBC’s falling star, Keith Olbermann. Two years ago, he would have fared much better.  To his credit, he exposed the Bush administration’s incompetence in painstakingly accurate detail.  Others in the media treaded lightly while W was treading on We the People.  Olbermann was one of the few who took notice and subsequently barked the loudest.  Some of his “special comments” were awe-inspiring.  He had true Edward R. Murrow moments (ERMM), and even his borrowed sign-off did not tarnish the core truth of his attacks.  He expressed what I felt, while the rest of the media was still tentative, cowardly, wrong, or licking Rupert Murdoch’s cock.

How do we really know what’s going on?  Truth seems harder to find than an Obama supporter on the Appalachian Trail.  These days, how can anyone parse out the truth in politics, culture, or even science?  Yes, even science is suspect.

Have you heard the Black Panther voter intimidation scandal yet?  The Justice Department’s actions are shocking!  It seems they are especially shocking for Republicans who helped dismantle the Justice Department, brick by brick, in the first place.  None of you were outraged to find Bush had replaced 150 positions in the government—including several  key jobs in the Justice Dept from some Pat Robertson 4^th tier regent college—but you’re mad about this shit?  Are you kidding me? Have you ever seen the 700 Club?  I would bow to the zombie god of Karl Marx before I would ever watch an episode of that shit. 

I was watching a television program yesterday in which one character was describing to another the traits of narcissistic personality disorder, wherein one feels compelled to create villains to defeat in order to be perceived by others as being a hero. Much of the following explanation of Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) is taken directly from the DSM-IV, the rest is taken from family reunions, BBQs, and Discord Christmas parties. 

In one of the biggest news blackouts in history, we have brought to light a story that only the Daily Discord would dare to print.  Facts are slim, but how is that different from any other Discord post?

Caved-in-Shack, AZ—Something deeply disturbing is happening in Arizona.  No, I’m not talking about Janet Brewer, Immigration laws, or Mick Zano’s naked bar crawls….I’m talking about something reaaalllly disturbing.  Back when I was shelling out ten bucks a bag in New Orleans for mini-lobsters known as crawdads, how could I have known a few years later these same bastards would be on the verge of destroying my state’s ecosystem?

About a year ago, Pokey McDooris wrote an article championing the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck.  Either these guys have tanked even more, or Pokey got a hold of some unusually strong pot that week. Hydropundits? During my last trip to Las Vegas, I had to listen to Rush Limbaugh between Kingman, AZ and Boulder City, NV—a long stretch of highway not dissimilar in appearance to the moon. I lost the signal twice, hit search, and immediately found those invisible airwaves crackling with Rush. I couldn’t really find any common ground, though.  And I was actually trying to find some for the first hundred-miles or so.  It’s lonely on the moon. I felt like that dog from Chevy Chase’s Vacation. "He probably kept up for a mile or so…" (sniffle).  Limbaugh was shamelessly trying to rewrite history and defend the indefensible.   Overall, his "views" showed an astounding lack of insight.  Everything was painted…and a really off color.  There’s the act of painting the actual stars in the night sky (realism) then there’s Van Gogh’s version of the night sky (impressionism) and then there’s Limbaugh’s view, where you just vomit on the canvas at night and hope for the best (host-depressionism). 

The Crank had a postscript with his last feature, and, though it pains me to admit it, he’s right. I’ve been a little bitchy in my posts lately—using more colorful metaphors and the like. I have come up with some more politically correct compromises: instead of Teabaggers, Tea Party members will hence forth be referred to as the "democratically disabled". And I never should have called my Governor a bitch. From now on such politicians will be referred to as the "legislaturally challenged". Even the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity do not deserve the title of "assholes", so from now on they will be referred to as "suffering from pervasive partisanship disorder (PPD)".

Haneyville, PA—We Discordians have congregated at an annual party for about twenty years now.  No one knows exactly why; it’s best not to question these things.  Every June, like those Capistrano swallows, we migrate to a remote Pennsylvanian cabin deep in the Black Forest region of Sproul State Forest (thankfully not to spawn).  The last party got a little strange…and not in the usual, bean fight, tree duct-tapping, naked fire dancing kind of strange.  I’m talking real strange…

Nowhere, AZ — Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I don’t care how any of you rat-bastards are doing in FarmVille and/or Mafia Wars; and, no, I don’t want to play. You’re all doped up on goofballs. What the hell is FarmVille, anyway?! Wait, don’t answer that. In this instance, the Crank is right—I can’t handle the truth.

Nowhere, AZ—Why does Burger King continue their clueless tradition of leaving off the cheese, unless requested, on any of their products?  If this sick and twisted tradition is allowed to continue, the Swiss will surely hit the fan.  I rarely partake in the fast food experience and when I do it is deemed a ‘relapse’ because I have sworn off the stuff several years ago.  But yesterday I drove my sister to Burger King because most everything else in town had closed.  She ordered the sliders for herself and we went on our merry way.  Fifteen minutes later, however, she found herself cheese-less in Arizona. 

Folks are finally taking notice of how the media has reduced the political debate to something akin to a cafeteria-style food fight.  Each side only lobs the meatballs of mutiny when the opposition party is on cafeteria duty.  Both patriotards and libertards (roughly 80% of the pop) are ready and willing to storm the Bastille, but for all the wrong reasons.  MSNBC tried to start a revolution to oppose Bush, and rightly so, and they got roughly forty-percent of the U.S. armed to the teeth with tiny condiment packets of petulance.  Then they tried to stop the food fight amidst the coronation of King Obama. Try as the libertard media might, those tater tot-toting Teabaggers came all the same (God bless them).  In fact, they are marching on Washington right now.  They are not exactly sure why they are marching, but the next ‘Fox Transmission’ should further terrorize them enough to dodge the tartar sauce of tyranny and counter with the two-fisted fish sticks of freedom!

Yesterday, a guy standing on a corner in downtown U.S.A asked me, “Would you sign this petition to support universal healthcare?”

And I said, “Unlike the rest of the country, I’m rather ambivalent about the whole thing.  Our current healthcare system sucks ass, but more government bureaucracy is rarely the answer.  Besides, the Dems are never going to get the bill passed, because Dems are, by their very nature, pussys.”

My wife and I have spent considerable amounts of time and money in downtown New Hope, Pennsylvania. For those of you unfamiliar with this cozy little playhouse town, it’s well worth the stop. One weekend, while vacationing there, I even proposed to my wife (along with several other women who happened to pass at the time). We always try to hit New Hope whenever we’re within a hundred miles of the joint.

Washington, DC - Sometimes when you dismantle the rule of law and then give up the One Ring to another group, problems arise.  This is the case for former Vice President Dick Cheney.  Rooting for another attack against the homeland can easily find Cheney on the darkside of his own brand of politique. Our CIA director, Leon ‘Death Squad’ Panetta, feels that Dick Cheney wants to see another attack on the US, probably to assure that we stay sufficiently afraid, vigilant, and demented.

One contributor asked about the Discord’s submission and editing process, and no it wasn’t Pokey McDorkis.  He still doesn’t have internet access, or a clue.   L. Wolfe asked me, why hasn’t my article (sent to Mick Zano six months ago) been posted yet?  I explained to Mr. Wolfe, in true Discord fashion, the way an article makes it all the way from host to post. 

There are many reasons for the decline of science fiction. OK, in all fairness, my version of science fiction. As an avid sci-fi fan who almost never watches the Sci-Fi channel, I’ve started to reflect on where it all went so horribly wrong. There are many culprits. First, the movie Outlander comes to mind.  Outlander, not the Scottish decapitating swordsman dude, but the Sean Connery as an aging space-cop dude, was a sci-fi crossroads of sorts. This movie was simply a cops-and-robbers story set on one of Jupiter’s moons. For the first time, the setting, the actual reason we are watching a science fiction movie in the first place, took a backseat to a space-marshal human drama. Support your local Cylon?

After eight years of sitting back, quietly, while our economy and our Constitution were systematically gutted, now, now, there is a new group freaking out?  Now, the right-wing attack dogs are stirring up a revolution?

My movement shall begin humbly enough, but like that moth that beats its wings in China, it will eventually cause a tsunami of public discontent…you know, like in college. It all began outside of Maloney’s Irish Pub, just before happy hour, when the appetizers are half-priced, the way God intended. I was thinking about my disgust for Rachel Maddow and Keith Olbermann and, yes, my growing disdain for the Zamboni Gypsies. OK, OK, I was a little early for happy hour. Some people hit the bathroom for the interim, while others decide to change the very course of history.

Propaganda bombards us from every angle of the media, but there is one piece of propaganda overlooked by everyone. The cell phone has become instituted as THE medium for communication in the post-modern age.  I’m talking about how the cell phone is good and even necessary for human interaction.  Everybody has one.  They’re in the bars, on the buses, in the parks, and even in the hands of our children.  We’ve bought them hook, line, and ringer.  We’re merrily chit-chatting in our own little worlds while remaining oblivious to the real consequences.

These quotes, minus mine, all occurred on Fox News 2/23/09 over the course of about twenty-five minutes (end of Hannity beginning of Van Susteren).  The folks at Fox are hedging their bets in the hopes that voting against our last ditch effort, which again, only has about a 15 percent chance of working, will help them in their road-warrior-wasteland-election to come.  Good luck with that.

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. 

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.  

The night was moist and clingy like a BBQ-sauce-smeared wet nap.  A damp chill hung in the air like a BBQ-sauce-smeared wet nap.  OK, I’m out of similes.  I got nothing.  As fate would have it, there were far too many eateries and drinkeries within walking distance of our hotel to do any justice to the ghosts of Gettysburg.  In a spirits vs. spirits grudge-match in my world, the carboxyl group version trumps ectoplasm every time.  Some people shake at the sight of spirits; I shake when I don’t get enough of the other kind.

I live in one of the three hundred cities that protested the November 15^th passing of Proposition 8.  I witnessed hundreds of people spouting spiritual slogans about ‘loving others’ and caring for their ‘life partners’, awful hate-mongering ideas.  Bright rainbowy colors bounced off an army of poster board like flowery daggers of doom.  Cruising by, I felt anger well-up in the pit of my stomach for these caring thoughtful protestors.  Where were the smoke bombs, the riot gear, or the people being bodily dragged into paddywagons?  Are these people puftas or something?

Integral minded people do not stoop to segments entitled, ‘Worst Person in the World,’ nor do they deem others ‘Enemies of the Week,’ and they certainly do not put people ‘on notice’ for any of their political beliefs. We shouldn’t even ‘wag our finger’ at anyone unless, in doing so, it is hoped to guide them back onto the path toward enlightened self-realization.  Instead of these crass attacks upon people’s character, we are going to start our own column: ‘I’m Calling You Out, You Civics Class Dropout Douchebag!’  This week, on our first second-tier inspired mission of ‘I’m Calling You Out, You Civics Class Dropout Douchebag,’ we focus on nudging Georgia Rep. Paul Broun toward something people at the edge of the Republican cocoon are referring to as ‘reality.’  Think of it like Sarah Palin staring at those distant Russian shores through her 600 dollar Oakley sunglasses.  Vague shapes are appearing on those far away conservative beachheads all around America.  Congressman, some of your brethren are wrestling with their souls and the future of Republicanism.  You can join the pity party any time.

Mick Zano consistently expresses keen political insights. He was the first person I know who publicly opposed the Iraq War.  His bra burning rally during ‘Shock and Awe’ day was…er…uplifting.  He has spotted many of the Bush Administrations corrupt policies and flawed strategeries. However, I am still prepared to demonstrate that Mick’s obsession with the Bush Administration stems from his repressed and sublimated fetish for underage chia pets.

It’s time to put an end to the unfounded accusations that our government is moving toward fascism.  Most people probably don’t even know the real definition. Fascism involves an unhealthy enmeshment between corporations and government.  For instances, Bush’s entrepreneurial buddies throwing Enron-like parties at the taxpayer’s expense and leaders waging wars while sitting on the boards of profiting companies…unrelated stuff like that.

Is our current democracy contaminated by nepotism?  While history is fraught with examples, historians consistently damn this dubious practice. When kings appoint their dimwitted sons instead of their most able men to lead them, the empire invariably quakes and crumbles like a fruit cobbler in a centrifuge.

Christianity remains shadowed by the sexist authoritative indoctrination that fueled the establishment of the Orthodox Church for centuries. We must come to terms with our religion’s shady history in order to cleanse our psyches from any prejudices that inhibit the authentic experience of compassion, love, God and barely legal Japanese anime.