Surely, you really don’t need to read another dewemplin blogger’s take on Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s performance today at Columbia University. Not to worry; I’ll be brief, as these are the pop-into-my cruller variety of thoughts as I watched this evil man do his thing.

If one had been sound asleep for the past several years and awakened to listen to Ahmadinejad’s speech:

You might think you were listening to Albert Schweitzer or Ghandi.

You might think that Iran was as friendly and hospitable as Disneyworld.

You might think that all the pictures you’ve seen of the concentration camps and extermination camps in places like Dachau, Auschwitz and Treblinka had been photoshopped and that more “research” into their authenticity is necessary.

You might think that women in Iran have a wonderful life, full of countless opportunities equal to those enjoyed by men.

You might think that the only terrorists in the world are the Joos and, of course, the United States for its support of Israel.

You might think that there is something unique about the Iranian gene pool (or perhaps something in the water) that has resulted in a country where there are no homosexuals.

You might think that 9/11 was an “incident” rather than a brutal, unprovoked attack by Islamic lunatics.

Fortunately, those of us who have not been asleep for the past several years know better.

That is all.

Too lazy to blog, well except to say why I was TBTB yesterday, relatively unexciting though it may be.

Yesterday had been pitched by the Weather Peeps as “an absolutely gorgeous, sunny day, with low humidity.” That was a good thing, as I was committed to again serving as a judge in the annual truck rodeo. The event started out, as in the past, in a room with coffee, fattening buns and a bunch of tattooed, tough guy, hard working truck drivers, as the rules of this year’s event were being explained.

The weather was cloudy, but everyone was still buying into the Weather Peeps’ forecast, even though most of us remembered last year’s event when rained like hell.

We were then assigned to our respective events for which were would serve as judges. I was the “Left Turn, Left Rear Wheel Judge,” which required walking next to each truck (some straight trucks, but mostly four-axle or five-axle tractor-trailers), as it negotiated a left turn with the goal to for the left rear wheel (tread, not bulge – I’m getting pretty sophisticated) be a specific distance from the marker. Easy enough.

Then the skies opened.

The organizers of the event scrambled to issue each of the sorry ass judges a poncho. So, there I was, along with six other judges (including Usual Suspects da Chef of da Future and Captain Arthur) standing in the middle of a huge truck yard in a farookin’ monsoon, while the spectators, organizers and everyone else were under cover. (Hell, even the contestants were in their trucks).

At one point, my friend and bodyguard, Ken, a participant in the event, brought us pulled pork sandwiches from the food tent. Standing there in the pouring rain, wearing a poncho trying to eat a sandwich before it became completely waterlogged brought back not-exactly fond memories of Fort Dix and the outdoor cuisine.

Well, we managed to survive it all and return home several hours later to warm showers.

Unfortunately for me there was to be no rest (as was the case last year), for I had time for a short catnap in Mr. Recliner before it was time to suit up and head off to a friend’s retirement party, with guitar in hand to do some shtick, including some smartass remarks and a tune I penned in his honor. I made ample use of the open bar, and the food was considerably better and considerably drier than the soggy pulled pork sandwich I had eaten earlier in the day.

I got home pretty late.

So, today, I’m beat and TLTB.

Too busy to blog.

That is all.

It figures. I had been saving a link for a day when I have a case of the Blog Blahs. You know, a day when you don’t feel like writing a farookin’ thing, and you wonder why you ever began this craziness in the first place?

So, I dragged up a really cool video that my friend Brian the Air Force Vet sent me a while back. It is a video of Fats Domino, Ray Charles and Jerry Lee Lewis on the same stage all playing at the same time. Ron Wood was playing bass, and the happening was being orchestrated by Paul Schaffer, who was positively gleeful at being on the same stage with Fats, Ray and Jerry Lee.

It tended to be a tad sloppy, as these things sometimes are, but who cares when you have Musical Giants on the stage?

When I tested the link in advance of posting, here’s what I found.**

That’s about how much of my week has gone.

Here’s what you missed, as noted in the text that accompanied the link as I received it:

The real story about this video… Date was 1986, the video was done at StoryVille Jazz Hall in New Orleans, Participants were Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ray Charles, Ron Wood and Musical Director was Paul Schaffer now with the CBS Orchestra and the Letterman Show. The full title of the VHS video is “Fats Domino & Friends – Immortal Keyboards of Rock & Roll” It was first released October 26, 1988 and again in 1991.

I think you woulda liked it.

** I assume you are seeing a “Forbidden Content” message, referring to copyright infringement. If, by chance, you saw the video and not the “Forbidden Content” message, I hope you liked it.

I think it’s time we finally got around to admitting to ourselves that the democrat nominee will be Hillary. Her lead is too large, her bullshit is too polished and her troops are too bloodthirsty, which collectively makes her defeat in the primary a non-option.

But Jimbo, there is still plenty of time before the candidates will be chosen. Lots of things can happen between now and then. She could really screw up.

Baloney. Based on her history and that of her husband, there is absolutely nothing – NOTHING she can do that she could not recover from, particularly with the help of the fawning MSM.

Just for fun, here are a few scenarios that would spell disaster for most candidates (and absolutely for all republicans), each followed the Headline that would report the story.

Potential Disaster: After finishing a speech, Hillary is cranky and stomps puppy to death.

Headline: HILLARY CLINTON PROTECTS PUBLIC FROM POSSIBLY RABID DOG.

__________

Potential Disaster: Hillary flies to Iran on Ahmadinejad’s private plane and, once there, collects $5 million in campaign donations.

Headline: HILLARY USED NO TAXPAYER MONEY TO FUND HER RECENT DIPLOMATIC INITIATIVE.

__________

Potential Disaster: Hillary, severely intoxicated or under the influence of a controlled substance, falls off stage.

Headline: HILLARY SUCCUMBS TO FATIGUE. LIKELY CAUSE IS MERCILESS HILLARY BASHING BY TALK RADIO. HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS SEND WELL WISHES.

__________

Potential Disaster: Five hundred thousand dollars in cash discovered under Hillary’s bed in her Washington apartment.

Headline: HILLARY’S DONATION TO LOCAL FOOD BANK THWARTED BY BUSH’S JUSTICE DEPARTMENT.

__________

Potential Disaster: Hillary hires a person to work in her campaign who, while working for her husband, stole highly classified documents from the National Archives.

Headline:
__________

Peeps, face it. The woman is coated with a much tougher and finer grade of Teflon® than ever covered the arse of John Gotti.

Sometimes all one can do is shake one’s head and hope that the dumbshittery that surrounds us is all just a bad dream.

From my friend Mike, the computer mavin.

Dear Mrs. Clinton:

I noticed that you campaign has recently hired Sandy Berger as a foreign policy advisor. I’m sure that you are aware that, three years ago:

… while acting as former President Clinton’s designated representative to the commission investigating the attacks of September 11, 2001, [Sandy Berger] illegally took confidential documents from the Archives on more than one occasion. He folded documents in his clothes, snuck them out of the Archives building, and stashed them under a construction trailer nearby until he could return, retrieve them, and later cut them up. After he was caught, he lied to the investigators and tried to shift blame to Archive employees. Link

You couldn’t possibly have missed it; it was in all the papers.

Because a person engaging in criminal conduct such as that in engaged in by Mr. Berger would have a difficult time getting a job as a supermarket cashier, surely you, as the candidate, would have wanted to know the details surrounding his criminal conduct before bringing him into the campaign for a very important position.

No doubt, you asked questions such as, “Which documents did you steal? Did someone tell you to steal documents? If so, who? Why would you risk your reputation, your law license, your career and possibly jail time by doing such a thing?”

What did he tell you when you asked?

If you didn’t ask the questions, you damned well should have, if you wish to be seriously considered as a candidate for the presidency of the United States.

Then again, if you didn’t ask the questions, perhaps it’s because you already knew the answers. One could then reasonably conclude that Mr. Berger was hired as payback for keeping his mouth shut in 2004 and afterwards, in which case you should not be permitted to be a supermarket cashier, much less the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces of the United States and Leader of the Free World.

With loathing and contempt and a solemn vow to vote for anyone but you,

Jimbo

I can continue to not read Maureen Dowd’s crap in the New York Times, only now I can continue to not read it for free.

Oh, youse guys must have read this story (from various sources) and sprinted to your computers to scare the dogshit out of ol’ Jimbo.

Yep, this guy, this guy and even one of the Usual Suspects figured that I very much needed to read about a guy who decided to go snorkeling in a South Caroling Lake, which was posted with “Beware of Alligators” signs only to have his farookin’ arm bitten off by one of those horrid creatures.

Fortunately for this possibly illiterate fellow, a bunch of nurses happened to picnicking on the lake shore (still too close for my money), saw the man flailing about in the water and stopped the massive bleeding, quite probably saving his life.

The 600 pound prehistoric beast was shot, and the fellow’s arm was removed from its stomach and flown to the hospital for possible re-attachment.

I hope the guy comes out of this OK, but snorkeling in a lake in South Carolina where there are “Beware of Alligator” signs?

Dude, not too smart.

Dear Diary,

OMG! I realize that I have neglected my diary for months now. It’s just that I have been totally busy doing government SPEAKER in the House stuff and staying in touch with my new seriously good friend Arianna Huffington. I know she sounds like Zsa Zsa Gabor, but don’t let that fool you. She is freakin’ brilliant. (I have waaaaaay better tits, but let’s not go there).

A couple weeks ago she called me and said, “Nan, I’m dying for some decent escargot. Vhat do you say you fly vit me to Paris for dinner? I know a place zat makes za best escargot you’ve ever tasted, and zee waiters wear tight pants and have vonderful asses zat look like zey are made of hard rubber.”

The hard rubber asses did it for me!

We flew on, like, her private jet, which was loaded with Cristal and caviar, but the best part was when she showed me the toilet bowl that contains a porcelain picture of that moron Bush. She said, “Nan, I so love shitting on Chimpy McHitlerburton. I feel vondervul aftervards. Dey are da best shits ever.”

I shit on him too. It was freakin’ AWESOME! LOL! Rethuglicans are just sooooooo, like, crude.

Oh, and this was really cool. Hilly came over last week. We were doing some totally primo herb and giving each other bikini waxes, when she mentioned that she needed to prepare to question that skinny General douchebag, who has been doing some stuff in Iraq. I said, “Girlfriend, I knew that, and do I ever have a surprise for you!”

At that moment Sven came to the door – all 6’4”, 185 pound, well muscled, hung like Man o’ War, blond, blue-eyed bit of him. Like I had asked him to do, he was wearing one of those silly Army Uniforms, with lots of stars and ribbons and shit.

When he saw Hilly and me, he thought it would be like our regular routine, so he began removing the uniform. “No,” I said. “Later for that.”

I made him sit in a chair wearing the uniform while Hilly and I called him all sorts of names like, “Douchebag, Liar” and shit. Hilly really got into it. “You’re a stinking, miserable, lying traitor, and you’re nothing but a freakin’ stooge for the arch terrorist Bush. You’re probably a child molester and your mother is a five-dollar streetwalker!”

It was, like, so totally cool!

Then we took turns peeing on him. This cost me an extra $500, but it was worth every penny. It was freakin’ AWESOME.

After that, Hilly said that she was totally ready to take on that Bush toady, douchebag general and his bullshit Iraq testimony.

But there was still plenty of herb, plenty of Cristal and plenty of time for Hilly and me to play “Hide the Howitzer” with Sven.

It was freakin’ AWESOME.

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