CUFFS for Congress

Now you're ready to represent us!

With the campaign season roaring into high gear, I thought it appropriate to re- re- reintroduce my campaign finance reform in three sentences, which I call the Congress Unchained From Financial Scumbags Act or CUFFS.

 1.  Only registered voters who live in a candidates district may contribute. 

2.  Each registered voter may donate a maximum of $500.00 indexed to inflation per candidate. 

3. All money not spent on the current campaign are forfeit to fund campaign finance enforcement.

Congress has spent the better part of fifty years debating Campaign Finance and has yet to produce anything as sensible, equitable, simple, and revenue neutral as that.

Put the CUFFS on Congress!

The Coming Regional Darkness

This is how a confidence scam (not science) is run...

Dogs vs. Cats

I've always been a dog guy. It's not that I hate cats, they're cool in their oddly retarded way, but I'm a dog guy by nature. There is a photo of me in diapers pushing Mr. Salty pretzels up our dog Duke's nose. Duke was understanding and entertaining, which are just a couple of the many dog talents which put me in their camp. Duke would sit patiently as I pushed the pretzel nearly half its length into his nostril before turning his head and blasting the edible missile from his nose with a snort. This amazing feat was rewarded by my uproarious laughter and the reloading of his nose. This puppy awesomeness went on for hours. Although I have no recollection of the event, the one thing I am certain of is no cat would have tolerated my behavior for an instant. Most cats can't stomach me as an adult, and surely not as a toddler... which aside from size is still the essence of my being.

In spite of my doggy disposition, I met a kitten that I adopted as a special needs child. Honestly, I had no intention of doing any such foolish thing, but my girlfriend decided that we would, and you understand how this became my decision as well. It wasn't much of a kitten, more pathetic mewing sliver of dark fur. It had the misfortune of being the runt of the litter, and then rejected by it's mother. 

Tabitha, my girlfriend, had a mothering instinct disproportionate to her available time, hence the furry whelp became my collateral responsibility. Not old enough to have been weaned from its mother, I improvised a feeding teat using surgical gloves. While effective, latex lacks the puncture resistance natural tits enjoy  so the stench of sour Similac became a regular accessory of my wardrobe. During those feedings I found myself not totally loathing the little beast.

What seemed years, but now I recognize as weeks, the kitty was on solid food and I was commensurately less smelly to boot. A win-win for me and my increasingly less loathsome feline friend.

Did I say, "friend"? Wow! But... I'm a dog guy. I am ambivalent towards all cat kind. Well, all cat kind less one, our little... uh. He didn't have a name. We, being Tabby, myself, and the kitten, had tried on a few names from time to time; Jen, Ninja, Snooker, Smoker, and a handful of others that stuck to the kitty as well as they have to my memory. None of them fit the furry one. It seemed a lost cause as one moniker after another came with great potential, but lost it's appeal like a bowl of milk swollen cereal neglected for hours.

At night the nameless one in the furry black pajamas would crawl onto my chest and nuzzle her tiny head under my chin. As I drifted off into another fitful pornographic dream... Out came her razor sharp talons digging deep bloody furrows into the tender flesh of my chest. In burning pain I exorcised the clawed demon from my chest and into the closet across the room. She disappeared from sight into a knee deep pile of clothing and sex toys Tabby would also occasionally disappear into while getting dressed. My primal scream came out, "Lucifurry!" 

Simultaneously, the cat was named and I was converted once and for all to the dominion of dogs. Yeah, I'm a dog man because dogs are loyal, trustworthy, and make great pretzel cannons. Cats, none of the above. 

Dependability, loyalty, and a willingness to go the road with you no matter how rocky, muddy, or treacherous that road may be are exclusively dog qualities which are mutually exclusive to the cat.

I believe that all my friends fall neatly into two classifications; dogs or cats. Although, both my occasionally pee on your carpet the dog will feel guilt, remorse, and frankly so God damn sorry they will sit in the corner and look pathetic and lonesome until you offer forgiveness in the form of a scratch behind the ears. Then, all is well with the world and everyone in it.

The vile cat giving your carpet a liberal dousing of ammonia laced urine will demonstrate its disdain for the rest of your home decor by shredding it to threads.

You can love a cat, feed it, brush it, buy it all kinds of expensive toys, and gourmet food (as if there are cat gourmet chefs) that a third of the planet's human population would kill for... but without warning, without reason, or maybe just for fun the cat will claw the shit out of you.

That's the permanent asshole nature of the cat. It cannot be removed. 

Oh sure, the cat my offer its regards once in a while by dropping an equally shredded bird carcass at your feet. But the dog, he'll show you he fricken’ loves you by dropping a slobber marinated cat corpse at your feet. The enemy of my enemy is this man’s best friend.

Aww! He'll even settle for Second Best Friend

Like I said, all my friends fall neatly into two classifications: dogs or cats and this is the entire point of this pointless penning...

Keep your dogs and lose your cats. Your life will be better for it. 

Sock and Buskin

The Secret of My Success

I Live in a Clown Motel

Working at a motel has helped me to appreciate that we are all just travelers here. We come, we stay awhile, and we return from whence we came. Some come and find pleasure, others find only pain. Some come to find Love, others live and die with hearts of dust. Some come to bask in the light, others complain day and night,  "It's too damn bright!" Some come and plan to be somewhere else but always stay here. Some would like to come, but they'll never make it, I fear. Some come for direction, but go disappointed because you can't get there from here. Some come beautiful but leave a mess. Some come and go, "Jesus Monica! What's that stain on your dress?" Some come from cradle to grave clean and clear. Others carry a briefcase that's a vanishing case of beer. Some stay so long you wish they'd commit suicide. Others come and go so fast they don't have time to say good-bye. Some come and ponder, "What's this traveling all about?" Others go hunting for white tailed deer and fishing for trout.  As for me, I'm amazed at all the travelers, hikers, and passing company. Please, say good-bye and drop of the key before you leave.

My Asshole Brother

There are few things in life that will totally fuck up your life than an asshole brother, especially if he is an opinionated, asshole brother like mine. Doubly so, if he is an opinionated, asshole brother who inflicts his options on you, not only without your consent, but without so much as consulting you. That, my friends, is what cancer does. It also shares a similar genetic makeup. Now, the cancer doesn't think, nor will it ever admit, that it's doing you any harm. After all, can't we all just get along. Your life is too short (and getting shorter by the minute) for such trivial matters as chemotherapy. Live and let metastasize. You see, the cancer is helping you. It's making you stronger, just like it. Who wouldn't want to be a tumor? In an inconvenient location? Destroying the very flesh you love and live... Who? I ask you, Who?

Every-fucking-body EXCEPT the cancer. 

The cancer holds a very high regard for itself. So high, it cannot imagine anyone ever wanting to be anything else. If they did... they would be mad. Stark raving mad. They would have to be. I mean, look at me... I'm cancer!

Beautiful, destructive to others, powerful, and God damn successful! I'm more popular than everything except heart disease, but I'm gaining ground... self-consecrated ground. Which is exactly where I should stand because I'm a blessing. Every word I speak should be recorded in the Great Quotes of Humanity. I make the most interesting man in the Universe look dull. There is only one thing I don't understand... with seven billion people on this planet, why I am the only one fit to command.

CANCER RULES!