We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do hereby . . .  wheel former Exalted Cyclops in the Klu Klux Klan slash walking cadaver Robert Byrd into the Senate Building so he can drool and shit his diapers cast a meaningful and considered vote on health care legislation.

“I don’t know if you have heard that it is legislation for the future, not just about health care for America, but about a healthier America, where preventive care is not something that you have to pay a deductible for or out of pocket.  Prevention, prevention, prevention—it’s about diet, not diabetes,” says Nancy Pelosi, who eats ice cream for breakfast.

If Pelosi really wants to do something for the health of the nation, she should get the president to stop smoking.

“No one believes more firmly than Comrade Napoleon that all animals are equal. He would be only too happy to let you make your decisions for yourselves. But sometimes you might make the wrong decisions, comrades, and then where should we be?”

There is nothing in the world like a persuasive speech to fuddle the mental apparatus and upset the convictions and debauch the emotions of an audience not practiced in the tricks and delusions of oratory.

Mark Twain

According the Daily Express (UK), British Children’s Secretary Girde Urloins Ed Balls yesterday announced an 800 million dollar plan to “put 20,000 problem families under 24-hour CCTV super-vision in their own homes.” The families will be monitored to ensure that the at-risk children attend school, go to bed on time, and wipe their asses properly. Okay, I made that last bit up, but not the first two bits: the UK government has announced a plan to install closed circuit video cameras in the homes of its citizens to make sure that they go to bed on time. You couldn’t make this shit up. Unless your name was Eric Blair, obviously. (That’s George Orwell for those of you scoring at home.) Normally I’d finish this up with some snark about how the UK’s become a hamster in a wheel third world socialist shithole, but things here are no better. Sooner rather than later we’re all going to be stooped over in the rice fields meeting the quota for a five year agricultural plan developed by some recent Harvard grad. Hopefully I’ll be dead by then and they can only use me for fertilizer.

During his recent visit to to France for a series of meeting designed to combat global warming, it was President Obama’s own er temperature that seemed about to rise. And neither does this interest in European climes seem an isolated event.

No doubt it was hard on the president being away from his loved ones. And although I’m sure he remains assiduously committed to saving the planet, it’s somewhat unclear what sort of emissions he’s hoping committed to reduce.

Anyway, what better time than the G8 to re visit the Weasels prescient Bulldoze the Moon, a paean to the Earth Mother Gaia, and not at a vulgar and tawdry song about how much we like women’s asses.

Enjoy a free download: Bulldoze the Moon

According to alleged journalist Evan Thomas, President Obama is “standing above the country, above – above the world, he’s sort of God.”

To which servile puke Chris Matthews replied “Amen.”

So there you have it. He who was dead is risen. Film at eleven.

Faced with the prospect of humiliating defeat in the upcoming Republican primary and a bare two weeks after announcing that the fate of the government rested upon his remaining a member of the Republican party, unreconstituted imbefuckingcile Arlen Specter yesterday announced that he was switching back to the democrat party, from whence he crawled several decades ago. In the short term there are obvious benefits to this move, not the least of which is that by switching Specter will have increased the collective IQs of both Republicans and democrats simultaneously.

Before delivering a boot and a well earned fuck off to the loathsome quisling douche bag, it is well to remember Specter’s dual legacy: the single bullet theory, which postulated that the bullet that killed John F Kennedy was also the bullet that killed William McKinley; and voting “Not Proven” at the impeachment of commander in briefs Bill Clinton, not proven being an arcane Scottish legalism, and Specter being stupid enough to mistake himself for an ancient Brit.

On the bright side, it’s likely the democrats will throw Specter over the side come election time in favor of Ed Rendell or some other fat corrupt sleaztard, especially with Specter facing the possibility of life imprisonment following his conviction on charges of murdering B movie actress Lana Clarkson. Until then Specter will caucus with fellow murderer Ted Kennedy, whose brother’s murder launched Specter into the national spotlight, much as Ted Kennedy launched Specter’s fellow Pennsylvanian Mary Jo Kopechne through the windshield and into Poucha Pond off Chappaquiddick Island, where he left her to drown.

I.R.S. Form 8863

Part III

Line 12:

If line 10 is equal to or more than line 11, enter the amount from line 7 on line 13 and move on to line 14.

 According to Thursday’s New York Times, our  “national obsession with soft [toilet] paper “. . . comes at a price: millions of trees harvested . . . . including some percentage of trees from rare old-growth forests.” The problem according to irony deficient reporter Leslie Kaufman - seemingly oblivious to the fact that the Slimes itself is MADE OF PAPER - is that soft toilet tissue relies on fiber from standing trees for its “plush feel.”

If she’s truly concerned about the poor trees Ms. Kaufman should do what I do: wipe her ass with that slattern Maureen Dowd’s column. Dowd, a hack writer who was diagnosed with Deranged Bush Syndrome after getting banged repeatedly by doddering sex addict Michael Douglas, now spends her days laughing at her own jokes and frantically masturbating with a Dick Cheney doll while slowly morphing into Helen Thomas.

For the record, I’ve tried using other bits of the Times, but outside the Sunday magazine none of it as soft and squishy as Dowd. Frank Rich’s column came close, but I was always worried that he’d slip me some tongue.