I believe that we need a new rule for Congressional/Senatorial Hearings.

The necessary and proper purpose of such hearings is to provide Congressional/Senatorial committees an opportunity to obtain information concerning an issue that is within the committees’ legislative purview, presumably to assist the committee members in considering legislative matters.

The information comes to the committees in the form of documents and testimony. The process in the case of documents and witness testimony should be quite straightforward, which is to say that committee members should review the documents and ask questions of witnesses.

Unfortunately, that is not the way it works in the case of “high profile” hearings, particularly when a “high profile” witness is testifying in televised proceedings. Instead, what we see is politicians on both sides of the aisle bloviating making longwinded statements of their own positions on an issue. They either outright make statements or preface a ten word loaded question with a 1,000 word statement.

The information gathering purpose of the hearing is lost in the political, self-aggrandizing blather, all of which is utterly irrelevant to the issue at hand – information gathering. This posturing serves no one’s interest, except for that of the bloviators themselves and a press corps that thrives on politics being a blood sport.

We need a new rule.

If I were declared to be King, the following rule would go into effect immediately.

1. The only persons permitted to speak in declarative sentences are the witness and the committee chairperson and in the case of the latter, only to enforce the rules, including, of course, King Jimbo’s Rule.

2. The only things permitted to emanate from the mouths of the committee members are interrogative sentences (i.e. they must end in a question mark), and they must be calculated to elicit factual information from the witness. This is to say that questions such as, “You’re a big, fat liar, aren’t you?” don’t pass muster. Such quasi-questions will be treated as forbidden declarative sentences.

3. The Three-Strike Rule applies. Committee members may be admonished twice for uttering declarative sentences. The third time they forfeit their remaining time. Smart Alecks who would try to sneak in a few declarative sentences at the very end of their allotted time would forfeit their time at the next televised committee hearing.

Yo, King Jimbo. Wouldn’t this be a violation of the committee members’ First Amendment rights?

Fair question, given that bullshit is indeed protected by the First Amendment, particularly political bullshit. However, King Jimbo’s rule is not unconstitutional, because it is a narrowly crafted, reasonable time, place and manner restriction on speech. The politician/committee members can bloviate to their heart’s content at press conferences, in press releases, on television “news” programs and the like. The just can’t bloviate while they are being paid by the people to gather information in a venue where their opinions are utterly irrelevant.

Alas, but I’m not the King, but one can always dream.

Today I decided to rummage through a portion of my briefcase in order to toss some of the crap that has accumulated there over the past several months. I got rid of a bunch of gas receipts and some well-aged work stuff I had brought home to read.

I also came across a few scraps of paper on which were my longhand scribbling about one thing or another. Most of them were phone numbers and hastily jotted-down points relating to business matters. I did, however, find a rather beaten looking old business-size envelope, which was folded in half and on which I had scratched a few non-work related thoughts.

Turns out that the scribbles were my running notes obviously taken while I was in the Service Area waiting for the Big, Fat, Black Capitalist Car to be pampered. No doubt they were originally jotted down in anticipation of using them to write a stellar blog post. After all, I’ve written about being captive in the Service Area a couple of times before, so at the time I must have thought that the goings on were blogworthy.

Well, the scribbles never did make it into a post, but seeing as how I don’t feel like doing any heavy lifting right about now, I thought I’d share the notes from the back of that envelope, uncut, uncensored and frankly ungood. I figure it will give you a peek inside my cruller at what was a less-than-outstanding time.

The Scene: When these notes were taken, I was sitting in the dealer’s Customer Waiting Area, which has all the ambience of a bomb shelter. I had brought a book to read, but the distractions were such that reading was all but impossible. Here ‘tis:

Shit! Fake Judge What’shername is on TV.

Nice looking. Wonder where she finished in L.S. class?

Case – Who shot BB gun and broke window?

P*** – Pissed off woman – blames local kid

Witness — Some guy has homemade CSI trajectory charts – Who is this guy? Charts?

Kid = ∆? “Didn’t do it.”

“Judge” – Guy’s charts clever but wtf?

“Judge” – To ∆ — I know you did it, but … reasonable doubt …blah blah

Verdict for ∆

Case – Laptop ownership dispute – P is ∆’s former ER [employer]

∆ – “P gave me computer when I quit. Owed me $”

BS!

P — e-mail from ∆ to ∆’s former co-worker – Screw them I kept comp.

Ouch.

P wins. No shit.

Seriously fat babe waddles into room – works in connecting office – grabs two jelly donuts – back to office – BAD IDEA.

Case: P suing roofer(?) – damage to aluminum door jamb on garage.

“Judge” has hammer! Whacks piece of aluminum – dent — shows ∆ how easy it was.

Verdict: P rules of evidence?? WTF??

Hot in here – stuffy as hell. People assholes. Cell phones!

New TV Program

F**k! Another “judge” – Divorce Court. Shit.

Wife is P He knew I wanted him out ………….

At this point, I must have been summoned to the Service Desk to pay my bill and begin the day.

My cruller: Not a pretty picture.

*** In legal shorthand, the symbol for “plaintiff” is the Greek letter Pi. Damned if I could a Pi symbol in Word. Hence the “P.” The symbol for “defendant” is the Greek letter Delta, which, as you can see, I managed to find. While we’re at it, the symbol for “contract” is the letter “K.” None of the cases mentioned involved a contract, but I thought you might like to know that little tidbit. No charge.

Ten.

It isn’t a big number. We typically buy more than ten eggs at one time. Ten isn’t enough people to field a football team or to fill up one quarter of the seats on a bus.

But, sometimes, ten is a very big number.

Ten is the number of people from my town who went off to work six years ago today, only to be slaughtered by Islamic barbarians.

I will never forgive the savages for what they did on that day, and I will damned sure never forget.

“There was a lot of crotch-grabbing, lip-licking and tongue-flicking.”

No, I’m not describing Date Night at a College Fraternity. All this was going on during the Air Guitar World Championship, which were held in, of all places, Oulu Finland last week.

Yes, as reported by Sarah Lyall of the New York Times**, there is such a thing as the Air Guitar World Championship. And, this year they were attended by 19 men and one woman from 17 countries, each the Champion in his or her country.

Perhaps one of the highlights of the competition came when the French national champion, Guillaume de Tonquḗdec, at the end of a killer air riff, dove into the audience only to have the members of the audience (who obviously were not quite as hip as Guillaume had thought) step back and let him and to a chest and face plant on the floor.

In the unlikely event that there is someone out there who doesn’t know what “air guitar” playing is, think back to the days when you were listening to ass-kicking guitar music (often fueled by booze or whatever) and you saw some dweeb who couldn’t even play the radio standing in the corner pretending to play the killer guitar lick that everyone was listening to. If he was good – real good, he might well have made it to Finland this year.

The Swiss contestant described “air guitar” best when he said, “To me, it’s like a guitar, only it’s made of air, so you can’t see it. Pretty much.”
According to a past champion Cedric Devitt, produced a film called Air Guitar Nation, air guitar playing does not require that the player mimic the actual guitar playing [Duh, which would mean he maybe could actually “play” a real guitar], but that the “imitation is so good it transcends the art form.”

Huh?

I know you’re dying to know if the U.S. of A. sent a contestant to the competition. USA! USA! USA!

Well, we did, and his name is Andrew Litz. He actually holds a real job, but he stated that he hoped to win the championship, which would allow him to quit his job and become a professional air guitarist.

The end of the competition was marked by a truly memorable moment, when the best air guitar players in the world all came on stage and all rocked it out with Neil Young’s “Rockin’ in the Free World.”

Awesome.

I know you’re just dying to know who won this year’s championship, but if I told you, you might not read the whole thing, which I suggest you do.

I’ve never been able to master the air guitar, but I have been practicing my air cranial surgery.

** The New York Times can publish some good stuff when it’s not pretending to report the news.

BONUS: Here is a video of last year’s champion in action.

I just got the following spam comment:

Please, do not delete the given message. Money obtained from spam will go to the help hungry to children ugand

At first I felt guilty zapping the spam until I read it closer, which makes me think that the money obtained from spam will be used to feed the children [of] ugand to hungry people. Farookin’ cannibals.

Sheesh.

Before Eric and Mrs. SWG left for Europe, he asked if I would mind checking in on his place to be sure everything remains in order. Given that I provided the same service last year, I agreed to do it again this year.

… mercy …

Damn, I just saw some kind of kitty litter commercial on TV, and the starring cat looked just like Junior, only Junior is way better looking.

I think I need a Kitty Agent.

Unlike the scuzzoids recently arrested in Jersey, this one is a BIG ENCHILADA.

As I suspect many of you already know, today the F.B.I. arrested 11 state and local politicians (and one non-politician who was the bagman for a politician) for various charges, all centering on bribery in exchange for granting government contracts.

The twelve were arrested as a result of an F.B.I. undercover operation, which began in June 2006 when it appeared that things were really rotten in the Pleasantville School District, which is east of Atlantic City and is one of the poorest districts in the state. Indeed, it was so rotten that in July a state monitor was assigned to keep an eye on its finances.

Posing as insurance brokers, undercover agents, with the help of cooperating witnesses one of whom had been in the roofing business, offered cash bribes in exchange for steering municipal contracts in their direction. The Jersey pols eagerly scarfed up the cash, which was often delivered in parked cars. Wanting their fellow politico-cruds to take advantage of the ready cash, the South Jersey crooks pointed federal agents north.

That resulted in the snaring of Samuel Rivera, the Mayor of Passaic, who is also a former cop and professional wrestler (I kid you not). In addition, Mims Hackett Jr., the mayor of Orange and Assemblyman Alfred Steele, who is the Deputy Speaker of the State Assembly, a Baptist Minister and the undersheriff of Passaic County were also arrested, as was Keith Reid, the chief of staff to Newark City Council President Mildred Crump, and Marcellus Jackson, a councilman from Passaic.

Rivera allegedly said, when offered the cash in exchange for contracts with the Passaic Valley Sewerage Commission, “We can get you that, easy, easy.”

Marcellus Jackson, the Passaic Councilman, allegedly was grateful and optimistic as he took the cash from undercover agents, when he reportedly said, “I appreciate it, baby. … Good things is gonna happen.”

Perhaps the “Dumb as a Bag of Rocks” award goes to former Pleasantville Board of Education member Maurice “Pete” Callaway, who is the brother of former Atlantic City Councilman Craig Callaway. “Pete” allegedly took the bribes all the while knowing that his brother Craig is currently in prison for taking bribes from an undercover FBI agent.

As it happens, all but one of those arrested is a democrat. Now, before we republicans get all self righteous, remember that most politicians in Jersey are democrats, which means that, simply playing the odds will net more crooked democrats than republicans.

I do not give the state’s republican politicians a pass on this. They are part of the rotten system that has allowed this national embarrassment to continue. When was the last time you heard of a republican turning in a fellow politician for being on the take? Let me answer that for you — never.

Still, the Sheeple in New Jersey continue to elect these rogues and thieves. It boggles the mind.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Here is a simple rule for the next election:

If a candidate for any state, county or municipal office is currently in office, vote him or her out, regardless of party affiliation. Our only hope is a goddamned clean sweep.

Of course, it is more likely that I will stick a feather in my ass and fly to Pittsburgh than it is that New Jersey voters will wake the hell up.

Note: Links relating to the foregoing are here, here and here.

PRS Operatives have been following the campaigns of the democrat presidential candidates and have come upon a copy of Former Senator and Vice Presidential Candidate John Edwards’ To-Do List. We thought it would be of some interest to PRS Readers, so without further ado, here it is:

1. Sell the goddamned embarrassing SUVs, and fire the sonofabitch who allowed them to be photographed.

2. Spend more time in sun. That café au lait look works wonders for that Johnny-Come-Lately, rat bastard Obama.

3. Spend less time fantasizing about addressing Hillary as, “You filthy, lying, criminal bitch” at the next debate.

4. Call tailor to have him make suits that look more pedestrian.

5. Develop talking point to explain how it is that hedge funds really don’t exclude the Other America.

6. Hire a voice coach to teach me how to speak with one of those cool black accents like Hillary does.

7. Send a dead rat to John Kerry.

8. Ditto Ann Coulter.

9. Send flowers to Arianna Huffington.

10. Practice swallowing collard greens without gagging.

11. Call that Kos guy to tell him that the Secretary of Defense job is in the bag.

12. Call Jimbo for hair care product advice.