January 2, 2013

Pre-dawn, every January 1, is the only time a reasonably rational man can have a reasonably rational hope that this year, this Ano Nuevo, things will be different.

I am far too old and far too scarred to fall for this every year but I do, I do.

A noon press release from the Pentagon bitch slapped me out of this warm and fuzzy feeling of what could have been.

“The Department of Defense is announcing that Hillary Rodham Clinton,
AKA “Rambolina”, was awarded the Distinguished Service Brooch for
exemplary duty in the face of overwhelming odds and the Lavender Heart for wounds suffered in combat. She announced that she would have a breast cut off in honor of all the unsung Amazons, tough chicks all, who fought in obscurity for so long.”

You go, girl!

There was some good news coming out of the Middle East. Of the 30,000/50,000 Syrian rebels killed in combat at least 75% were men. No longer can the Washington Post use its traditional headline: Disaster Somewhere, Anywhere – “Women and Minorities suffer most”.

But then came the coin toss at the Rose Bowl. It was the ultimate proof, the smoking gun if you will, that the boobies remain firmly in control of the hatch.

Jane von Goodal Lawick, or maybe Junior Cakewalk von Lowick Goodfella, as big an interloping Caucasian as the dark Continent had to endure in the 20th century, after being dragged around in a dump truck filled with flowers and gremlins, winds up on the 50 yard line at the Rose Bowl. She is surrounded by really big men dressed up as Finocchios and Scaramouches who want to harm each other. She is handed a round object by a man wearing clothes selected by the winner of the bet that he lost. She stands there, totally whelmed. “These people went to the moon?”, she says while begging for a flying squad of Somali Pirates to kidnap her and bring her back to her chimps, particularly the shy one with the golden mullet who answers to the name Jay-Jay.

She did the only sensible thing she could do with the coin.

She dropped it.

Her ideas on man being descended from the apes were tested. Perhaps she had it ass backward.

This month marks the 39th anniversary of me responding to President Nixon’s call for volunteers in the fight for Project Independence. I and my band of Merry Pranksters were able to convince some 30 people, the majority of whom were jaded New Yorkers, to give us money so we could “frack” 80 wells in south Texas.

[Ah! The good old days. The oil in this field was labeled “old”. As such, it was sold for $5 a barrel. If you went across the dry creek and turned by the cottonwood {Think Lonesome Dove} grove it would have been called “new” oil. As such it would have sold for $13 a barrel. The sounds you heard then, the sounds you hear now, are the muffled guffaws and the bursting bladders of Prince Barack, Emir Hussein, and burnoose-clad WOGs praising Allah for making these pale faced round-eyes so friggin’ dumb.]

The field that we “fracked” was close by Texas standards to the King Ranch. Cattle still graze and roam there before winding up providing protein, the better to combat the ill effects of GlobalCoolingGlobalWarmingClimateChange.

It worked well for a while but not as well and not for as long as we would have liked.

That those wells, originally called the Rodriguez Field, are still producing is yet again 100% metaphysically certifiable proof that if eggs go to $5 a dozen the rooster lays.

Oil produced from that field since 1974 has sold for prices from $5 to $42 to $6 to $27 to $65 to $48 to $105 to $86 a barrel.

While this was going on the only people who became independent were those peckerheads who who pray 5 times a day, look wistfully at young lambs, like Dancing Boys, and say that Allah really is Akbar.

Meanwhile the first Horse’s Ass of 2013 has presented himself.

Congressman Edward Markey, and Surprise! he is a Democrat from Massachusetts, said that a beached drilling rig was a threat to the environment. Sea scat and piscine eructations and decaying salmon in the fragile headwaters of the estuaries and streams that feed the mighty Pacific are far more dangerous. Gaia is using the Pacific to punish us for using so much plastic. Only a fool would think those tsunamis could come along unbidden. I doubt if there is more than 500 gallons of all fluids, including coffee, lemonade, Mr. Clean, liniment, WD40, Gorilla Glue, and some sacramental wine on board. It’s a drilling rig, you ass. Assuming it strikes oil it would not be stored there, you fool. Long live Solyndra!

I name you,

Edward Markey

HORSE’S ASS OF THE WEEK

And so the New Year begins…