BRASSERIE BRESCHARD

2026-09-15T18:29:03.090-07:00

CRACKERJACK

(a real quick read for we attention damaged)

by Peter Breschard

Charlie B wants to know where all the money went.

Bobbie the Book was more than pleased to enlighten him.

“You declare say ”X” amount as income. It has got to be enough to cover almost half of your easily discovered expenses. Make the number seem reasonable. Then the government takes its cut and the heat isn’t focused on you.”

Charlie B frowned. “That seems reasonable. I guess. I guess. So what is our problem today?”

“You’re paying too little in taxes. Trust me. This is going to bite us all on the ass lot sooner than most wise guys/gals bemuse.”

“We’re paying what the Feds say we should pay? On the income we should say we have? Still don’t see what the big real ruckus be?”

“We’ve been entirely legit decades. Since your old man, may he rest in eternal peace, decided he should move this business off the street and into the banks. The problem, to put it very simply, is, is, we’re making way too much money.”

“That’s a problem?” Charlie B topped their two coffees.

“We’re making way too much money and all your partners are greedy sons-of-bitches.”

“How does that play out?”

“Listen. Both you and I know we both have more money than we could ever spend in this and maybe even the next five lifetimes. We’ve got our kids and probably their kid’s kids seen-to for a century or two, all wrapped up in trusts that if any of them gets addicted to snorting cobalt cultured cut diamond dust, they still wouldn’t run out of cash. We’ve provided and we’ve done great jobs for our families. We should be proud of that.” Bobby the Book made a dry coffee mug toast to his partner.

Charlie B dry clinked as well. “Again, I am not seeing a problem here.”

“It’s all the partners. Maybe they are not as rich as we, but I can tell you right now, they’re doing just fine. They’re all in the top tax bracket, easy.” MAYBE NOT A FULL COMMA THERE

(SMALL CAPS)

“They ain’t on no street corner begging for no pennies neither.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pay employees. Smart in the end

Greed

Like your Daddy and Grand Daddy would handle things.

All of them, maybe not, but a good number, say 33 and a third. Yes. Music to my ears.

Get the message.

Only way to save ourselves.

Need the people. Votes come and go.

BOARD MEETING

Tommy Tweed Toed

Vincent the Lobe

Sylvie SheBear (Sheba?)

Xtra 1 no line silent bit

Xtra 2 no line

Xtra 3 3 words one speaks

Would Murray the K be far too ancient New York history?

Definitely. Don’t use it.

Sabe. Soiree!

DA BOIS

“So, I guess we’re going to call a meeting of the Board.”

“The whole Board, And explain it to them all. Like they were some punk kid sitting in the dark of an afternoon matinee when he should really be attending class. (Or maybe running a video in his head whilst he be attending the scholar academy dreaming he wuz anywhere else. Cheaper?)

“Could be a scene that. Could be a scene.”

HOT ROD TRICYCLE copyright patent pending

What is the crew of cb and bb doing after they finish work? Has the crew been identified at all or just back of heads with voices dubbed in later. Either has plusses and minuses and all the ding dong other things you could call such a situation. My thought here is we get five or six of the best we can find and pay out a little bit more from the get and maybe we get real lucky with the end product from this production.

Maybe.

2026-08-23T14:40:48.224-07:00

MOST ASSUREDLY

by Peter Breschard

A man and a woman perch at opposite ends of a longish table, facing the audience. Over shoulders? From the top? They sit facing computer screens. Monitors. No doubt of Civil War fame. Keyboards.

They resume typing and waving about comptrollers.

M Any better?

She shrugs. Both their arms wave madly in the air. (madly wave?)

W Now that’s a little better.

(2 stories. One in progress, one in prep.)

BLACKOUT

(somewhere in the rainforest of Central America, a man and a woman squat)

M You don’t want to eat any of this. (waves a chocolate bar or whatever, anybody who wants to pay can have their brand or name inserted here)

W I believe I’ve seen this movie once or twice. On occasions.

GOODEATS

M Wait. Please. All around us here is what is saving the world.

W The rainforest?

H Of course. That too. (stands) Can’t you see it?

S Oh, I can see it all. Right?

H I’m not so sure that you can. Can?

W No. You wouldn’t be. (she leans back on her arms while kicking out her legs.)

M Look at all of this. (waves arms) There is more life here, within our very own line of sight, then what’s left within miles of our native landscape. More life in one cubic meter of earth then what’s left within all other planets in our solar system. Wonder in the green.

W Yeah? (no direction needed here)

M That chocolate bar you’re eating.

W GOODEATS

M Of course it is, GOODEATS. Have you any idea how much joy you create, enabling such help in helping to save this planet just by eating GOODEATS?

(Weather Advisory: It’s the Veronica Lake Effect Snow Job coming soon. Winds wispy yet strong.)

W I might know something. That’s a certain. (She crumples the wrapper to small ball and places it deep within the enwrapping folds of her pliable but still firm knapsack)

M Here we are in one of the most Edenic, the most life fulfilling spots in the Universe. Doesn’t it make you want to breathe it all in until you just burst? Alive, I say. Doesn’t it make you feel just so entirely, entertainingly, exhilaratingly? Alive?

W Well, to tell the truth, I have felt worse.

GOODEATS

M That’s the spirit!

W But that’s only after feeling far too fine the evening previous. Are these bugs, our bees, our friends forever as well? (she flicks an imperceptible insect from her shoulder cloth)

M Of course they are. Don’t you know these insects are dying back home.

W No, I wasn’t really all that interested in the day-to-day, average goings on with your non-European insect. Your choice not mine.

M Entire species of buggeries are disappearing. You know about the bees, of course? (laconic?)

W I’ve been B-listed, myself, maybe on more than that single occasion.

M Very droll. No, honey, honeybees natural sweeteners, sweetness. Sweetness is disappearing from our very lives.

W Our very hives. One might say.

M Now the human palate is becoming acclimated to white sugars and any artificial sweetener, we can no longer appreciate the subtlety of honey. We only appreciate the blast furnaces of the white and the artificial.

W Picky, picky, picky.

M No. Hear me out. Do I care if some son of a shopkeeper in Sheboygan settles for a sweet sugared rather than a honeyed?

W Of course you should, snookums. Sugars a no-no.

M Correct.

GOODEATS

FIN

(leave audience wanting more)

2026-08-11T21:01:16.748-07:00

HOW PETER BRESCHARD AGAIN SAVES

HIS PARTICULAR UNIVERSE

by Peter Breschard

Box Office moxie

Sunny side of life.

Title Card

Better buy BROWARD BAKED BEANS, you betcha!

BO - have this old guy who probably was going anyway, maybe, Home, family, grandkids. We all know the script.

BROWARD BAKED BEANS, YOU BETCHA!!!

Well this wheezy Congressman decides his home and families need him more than the great people of this great, the great Congressional District, great people. Not kidding, the really great, great people of this beloved District of ours.

Well let me tell you right here and now:

Behind me.

Behind this very curtain.

This curtain!!!

POINTS TO CURTAIN

There’s a fella who you all know and remember as I do. I remember when he was at the helm of this ship. He steered our boat through many a storm. Now you can think anyway you, anyway you want to about this man but you have to admit, at the very least he’s the kind of criminal who can be aware of the certain limitations placed upon us all.

BETCHA THAT’S BROWARD BAKED BEANS, YOU BETCHA!!! BET!!!!!

You are certainly free to feel anyway you want about the man but I couldn’t think of a better, more qualified person to follow in my footsteps.

Size 10 to be exact.

INTRODUCING! -----

Animated Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearst Club Band type thingee.

Did Sergeant Pepper own the Lonely Hersh Club?

Heartless

“May I introduce to you?” Allow me to introduce myself.

No. No. No. No. Wrong card entirely. Sorry, wronged teleprompter.

HEARS THE PLAN PEBBLE

Ha! Teleprompter? Ha! I’m working here on paper with ballpoint like the primitives do. Whacka do. Whacka do. Back to the reason we all be here.

Might I, might I, might I tonight introduce to you? Tonight! Right now! Might I introduce to all of you the next Representative for own beloved, beloved District... You know him well. Well, The Once and Future Representative.... you know him so well .... Mr. .... THE...

THE ONCE AND THE FUTURE!

Put the man in place in this time of need! This time of need. Who else you got?

THAT’S BROWARD BAKED BEANS, YOU BETCHA!!

To be or not to be? That dear Sancho, is the question. No, my Don, that is a windmill.

THE ONE. THE ONLY. THE ONE WHO NEEDS NO INTRODUCTION

MR. SMOOTH

MR. SOMETHINGOROTHERELSE

THE FORMER AND THE FUTURE

(You think you’ve got everything. Don’t you? Don’t you?

Of course, I don’t. That would be a flaw.)

Might I introduce to you now, our darling District’s next and future Congressman!

Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for it.

Our future Congressman! Our former President!

Mr. President

I give you, Barack Obama!

It’s the maths and most certainly do not leave it to the lawyers. Maximum in office two years. Reverse jitsu. Probably, maybe, who cares? Take it to the Black Robes (and you guys call yourselves Catholics? And Reformed!) By the time there’s a ruling it will be time for him to clock out.

And how exactly do you expect that to work?

We elect him to Congress. Gets into office. With new Democratic majority he gets the Speaker of the House job without breaking a sweat. And that takes care of one problem.

But that’s just one problem Only a single step.

One down. Two to go.

One to be followed by others. This can work. You have to have Hope!

Hope! Finally Hope! Once again peace will come to our valley! Once again the birds will sing and the stacks not smoke! There were times I thought the Ogre would never leave! But you have brought the joy of peace to our people!

No. No. No. No. Stop what you’re doing. Please, just stop. Really immediately.

Why’s that, wisenheimer?

He wants us to lose. He’s with the Ogre! Help! There’s an Ogre among us!

No. I want all of us to win, and for the Ogre to win a free, all expense paid trip to Saint Barts for him and the rest of his entourage. Where they will spend the rest of their days in a gated community where they can recriminate one another for the rest of their days.

BROWARD BAKED BEANS

Should we stop doing what we’re doing? Replacement might save the entire world. Not that it’s like we’re wasting time or anything like that.

Let’s get moving on this. We don’t know who he is.

What if I were to tell you there is a better way. What if I were to tell you that I have seen the light and the light it is good!

Seen the light have you? OK we were just wrapping up for the day here. Thanks for stopping in.

Wait. Wait. Sometimes I forget you aren’t as happy as I am about this. That’s because you haven’t seen the light. You don’t have to run him.

We sort of do.

If you think somebody has to be a Representative in the House of Representatives to be the Speaker of the House of Representatives, how wrong you are.

My mama told me you better be a Representative in the House of Representatives in order to be anointed the Speaker of the House of Representatives.

“You Better Shop Around”. Right?

Absolutely.

Finally got one.

Moving on. It seems when consulting ancient scrolls the Wise Woman of Oke Mostly discovered a long forgotten papyrus indicating that the House of Representatives can crown anyone they feel like, on any given Sunday, the Speaker of the House of Representatives and all environs therein.

So, we don’t have to pay off that Congressional asshat?

Nopey Dokey. You most certainly do not. After you take control of the House, the Representatives therein bejewel Barak Obama with the Speakership of that there House and in thereby doing present him to the great American public as second in line for the Presidency.

President. Vice President. Speaker of the House (you know who). President Pro Tempore of the Senate. The list goes on.

That’s just one problem.

One problem overcome without unnecessary shenanigans.

Which leaves us with two other problems.

The heir apparent resigns.

That easy?

That easy. Some people will be living amidst the American people for, hopefully, an extended period of time. And as we all want everyone to get along as joyfully as possible, the Vice President will resign. To “promote the general welfare”. Anything else is unimaginable. But, that particular aspect of the arrangement is really not my department.

We’ll have to think about this.

Of course. I would certainly hope so. A possibility being offered. Bet I know your next question.

THAT’S BROWARD BAKED BEANS, YOU BETCHA!!

And the imaginary Big Kahuna?

Thought you would never ask. Big fat Kahuna wins a free, all expense paid trip to Saint Barts!

And if they don’t want to go?

Who wouldn’t like to win a free, all expense paid trip to Saint Barts? Anyone turning down a free, all expense paid trip to Saint Barts is quite unimaginable. He will be proffered an offer which any rational human could not possibly refuse. Again, not my department.

Don Quixote?

Not really close. So there you have it.

I don’t know. Seems too easy.

Nothing is ever easy. And for good measure it’s legal as Spiegal. How’s that for direct mail?

BETCHA THAT’S BROWARD BAKED BEANS, YOU BETCHA!!! BET!!!!!

With any luck Peter Breschard will be back next week to all the beans and to help save another of his universes. Same time. Same channel. See you all next week!

And thanks for all the fishies!

FIN

2026-07-31T10:08:55.641-07:00

SON OF SEITAN: THE SEQUEL

vegetarian steak

Some say Converts are the worst. When you’re born into the cults, and reared in them, you learn to take some things for granted. But fuqqin Converts? Hell, no. They’ve got no sense of the lay of the land. When accepting new authorities, you’ve got to learn the difference between a captain and a private. It takes time since when first starting out all anyone sees is people wearing the same color. And after a while you discern they’ve all got badges and stripes stuck to their clothes. Then, cleverly, you interpret a few have more clout than the more. Then which badge associates with which amount of given clout. And then you see which of them with the same clout badges has the better presentage. And so on, and so, on. Takes a while for the new Convert to figure these distinctions. Some never do. Zealots.

Steak. Burgers, not missed as much. Basically bread crumbs and egg along with some bad meat, or numerous variations. Steaks remain a whole different foreign ball game. There’s “the whole blood and rip ‘em apart with your teeth” shit. Those were the days. The blood will never be replaced but there are other delights. Like the chew. Like sinking your teeth into once vital flesh, giving you vibrant bits of resistance you have learned will soon give way, but, for the moment, the meat fights back the best way it knows.

Possibly the muscle. The sinew. Connective stretched biologic gluten. There are parallel universes in every con-artist’s repertoire.

Taste will not be the same but there are other rewards.

To begin.

A little less than what passes for a cup of cooked black beans, rinsed and admired. (There are toasted variations but they are not for you. Not now. Maybe later. Maybe never.)

Vital wheat gluten. An extraordinary, truly amazing product. Not gluten free. Not at all. All gluten all the time. You can make some at home but quite a few projects are best left to professionals. Do not rewire your house on your own. Do not set aside decades to create your own Vital Wheat Gluten.

Vital wheat gluten: a skosh under two cups.

You like ketchup? Again you can make your own. Easier to create at home than VWG but you know it’s already in your fridge. Dead on half cup.

Spice, spice, baby. Garlic powder (or the real thing for the more advanced), paprika, cumin, blackest of pepper. 1, 1, ½, ½. Approximations. As you wish. As you spill. Measuring spoons are like training wheels.

And now the tricky part. 1/4 cup vegetable stock (homemade is the absolutely easiest and cheapest item in my icebox) and 1/4 cup beet juice. I know, I know, you don’t have beet juice. If you come across some, great. If not you can just use more veg stock making sure to don your rose colored glasses. We are talking cosmetics here. The beets will contribute to the disguise but only by a minute percentage. However, you will come off tres chic in your new pink shades.

Did I say liquid smoke? Again you can make your own, but.... Smidge less than a teaspoon. Wicked, wicked stuff. Buy some. You’ll like it.

Know how to make a marinade? Maple syrup, ketchup, olive oil, soy sauce or Braggs aminos. Double the soy sauce and the rest are about two tablespoons. Go all Pollock using the confines of a suitably sized pan for your canvas. 8x8=64. 9x9=81. So maybe 9x9 you go a little heavy handed.

Got it?

Let’s go.

Beans. Dump them into a food processor. Don’t have a food processor? Buy one. Give this machine a few spins and when the last of them has suffered at least one killing gash, proceed from there. Stay on board not over.

Gather the rest of your ingredients and place them all into the place of spinning blades.

Crank that sucker up and watch ‘er rip. Every so often come to a screeching halt and expertly scrape down the sides using your favorite spatula.

After a shortish spin all will come together, looking like a brownish sun with smaller planetoids scattered about. That’s cool. It’s where you want it to be. Stop the machine!

If you don’t have a nice, clean, dry, flat surface available, make one available.

Dump the brown ball and its satellites onto the surface. Shouldn’t be too soggy, shouldn’t be unmaleable. Go back to childhood and think about pliable modeling clay. Carefree and clean. So far.

Need to knead a minute or two. Keep going until you start getting some resistance and the dough becomes slightly schizophrenic. It won’t quite come together as one. You’ll see what I mean. Remember the feeling. Later remember as your jaw has a smooth ride or your muscles get a workout.

If you don’t know how to knead, might I suggest YouTube.

Punch it down and flatten it out a bit. Then take a bench knife or something sharper and then omni Gallia en quatro chunkos.

Punch it down again, flatten a bit, then step away. Give your opponent the space to loosen up and chill. If you want to step away for 10, 15, hey, it’s your video.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch. Get your self a pot, water, and a steamer basket, or something like it. Once again, there are videos. Bring that water to 212 and let the mystical vapor arise.

Make those 4 piles of something or other stretch out to a shape approximating what a steak might look like. Creativity. Sometimes having these puppies a half inch thick works well for me Sometimes. Sometimes.

Arrange these guys in the steamer and cover the pot and let steam stream all over the not flesh of your not steaks like you used to know them. 30 minutes for this confined sauna.

Remember the Marinade! Was the battle cry of no war I know of. When 30 be gone, uncover and using tongs, or other implement, you can transfer those hot, hot, hot faux filets into the mix of soy and friends. Sit down. Relax. Get up now and then and flip them over so the marinade marries the meatlike.

If you’ve a cast iron frying pan with ridges running across so you can have something like grill marks on your steaks, well, so be it. If not any frying panlike object will do. Heat ‘er up, oil a bit, and toss those juicy meatless objects into their own little hell for, let’s say, three minutes a side. Up to you. None of this is financial advice. Brush, you really should have some kind of brush, I don’t know if I advise using an old toothbrush but what the hell, some of the marinade on the steaks as they cook and when you flip them over.

Mashed potatoes. Something of the greenish persuasion. Steaks. Chewy steaks like your grandma never imagines. Eat.

These darlings are damned good. If you disagree, you’re entitled.

2026-01-03T10:14:00.000-08:00

BROTHER ELI ADDRESS THOSE WHO HAVE GATHERED

When you hear the sounds of new experiences arriving, do you shut your ears, lock the doors, and hope by distractions to keep unknowns at bay?

It’s challenging enough perceiving all of this world's wonders. When all our sensory inputs are dialed down to zero, when all we hear is a low blue noise, when our vision becomes only starring oncoming headlights, when touch, smell, and taste become a similar numb, where will we stand?

Perhaps all that remains is the a conceptualized fully encompassing dark blue void. Where all thought and beloved memories sail to differing unknown shores. Where exists naught but awl. There will remain no expectations.

No memories. Neither wins nor losses. No superficial pain. No recalled agonies. Gone are bothersome itching limbs, along with departed friends and family.

Bruises. All bruises will dissipate. Those constant minor irritants projecting us from one location in time to the often following site. Lesser things. Editorial selection. Close-ups, decidedly not panoramas.

Such minuscule egos. No tightrope walkers they. Fear preceding confidence excepted only as victory assumed. Never confident in abilities. Only in outcomes. Perhaps for victory within the game. But never to design a board.

Blue. Or must it be blue? Or red? Yellow? Or chartreuse? To tell the truth?

Only existing as it comes to exist. Ne’er before nor since. And then not.

To return to blue.

All blue.

Or nothing. Or anything. Or most. Some of something or nothing of naught.

So, there’s no blue. Must be the last hope. Something in the nothing. Blue is the nothing. Can nothing be something simply by being called nothing? The concept of nothing is certainly something. So there is no blue.

There is no nothing. But the concept of no nothing does not bring something from the non-nothing.

We exist here now. Focused on what is. What will come. As long as senses to perceive endure and minds to assimilate.

Looking to the future, myths are created. Cheap fictions redesigning ancestral tales. Create while you can. The killers are out there. Dance on their graves.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nu7aOan-lds

2025-12-15T11:31:00.000-08:00

IS THERE A WORSE FEELING THAN MISSING GEORGE W. BUSH?

Should John Yoo be appointed Chump’s new ethics advisor?

---

LIVING IN THE GAME

“We have rules, sonny boy. These rules didn’t pop-up out of thin air. A whole lot of wealthy men spent a great deal of time creating these rules. And if you don’t follow them, you’re an idiot.

Son, you’re an idiot.”

Fred Chump or George Bush, the elder?

---

John Yoo is spitting bullets. His most famous works, his Torture Memos, are rapidly becoming irrelevant. Not a single Young Republican in his office dares look up from their screens. “We spent years creating legal precedent for our war crimes. Now Chump and his idiots pretend it’s impossible for them to commit crimes against humanity.”

You have to wonder about the incredible amount of work Bush Jr’s organization put into making sure when they were committing their war crimes they'd have their judicial asses covered. Remember those wonderful days of enhanced interrogation!

---

Back in old time Hollywood a Western sheriff, or whoever was carrying the biggest gun in town, was allowed to do whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t frighten the women or scare the horses. Most certainly Chump and his buddies have frightened the horses

Wiki quotes

Beatrice Stella Tanner Campbell (9 February 1865 – 10 April 1940) was a British actress, the first actress to play Eliza Doolittle, in George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion. Born Beatrice Stella Tanner she was most commonly known as Mrs. Patrick Campbell or "Mrs. Pat" in reference to her first husband, who died in the Boer War.

As Beatrice said:

"Does it really matter what these affectionate people do — so long as they don’t do it in the streets and frighten the horses!"

---

At least W pretended to perform military service. Chump? What the Francis O’Malley are bone spurs? But enough of that. At least Chump hasn’t commanded an invasion of another country like W did. Too many unnecessary deaths on W’s tally. With Chump, only time will tell. But so far, one point on this point for Slytherin.

---

Elon Must hasn’t achieved enough to kiss Linus Torvald’s ass.

Didn’t the original (might as well have been a) billionaire, John D. Rockefeller, at least tossed dimes to beggars on the street?

The further we get from the French Revolutionaries executing who they thought were their rich oppressors, the dumber and more insulated the extremely wealthy become.

When it comes to political social distances, I always forget, is it father or fuhrer?

---

W’s money is a lot older and more American than Chump’s which is not only nouveau but a shitload more foreign based.

At least W’s father wasn’t a Nazi pimp.

Not to bring children into this, but, in general, W’s kids appear a smidgen less alien. No offense to extra-terrestrials.

---

In the diner where Hegseth goes to order his work schedule for the day, did the Secretary of War (I’m so scared) simply order “#3: Extremely Enhanced Interrogation” and then never think about it again?

---

And the vast majority of Texans aren’t as racist as our Presidential felon son of a Nazi.

Thank W for all the torture under a see thru cover of law

and thank Barack for not prosecuting the Bush administration’s crimes against humanity

and thank Chump for not prosecuting those crimes against defenseless prisoners

and thank Biden for ignoring the law and not pressing charges against American war criminals

and, forget it, the list just goes on.

---

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and hope, if I work hard enough, I’ll become as anti-corporate as Thomas Jefferson was

---

Would the present Republican Party be willing to bring George W back to replace Chump?

---

First they ignore you. Then they laugh at you. Then they huddle under a bed in a locked room within a darkened house within their gated community protected by minimum wage high school dropout security guards.

2025-12-12T09:25:00.000-08:00

MR. WILSON AND DENNIS EXPLAIN IT ALL

Yeah

we’re good

let’s go for it

Well imagine if you were Chinese government officials

thinking about the future of their country

and they chat among themselves

hey

We’re importing oil

we’re sending all this money to Saudi Arabia the United States and Russia

and you might say they’re fascist countries or worse

no no no no no that’s not going to work we got to put a stop to that

so these government guys got together

all sucking up to the chairman by saying

it’s all about what’s the best way for things to go for China

You know that’s a very nuanced course

what people don’t appreciate it that this enormous country

which has been an oil importer

for many, many years now

they all agreed that not having to pay out all that money for oil and gasoline

from countries like Saudi Arabia, and Russia, and the United States

might be very good for China

at least that’s the way some people think

it would be better if they kept all that money and recirculated within the Chinese economy

There’s other folks in the Chinese government who think

you know we gotta worry about this climate change threat

Some people say that’s the biggest threat to everybody

so we have to do something about planet but another voice is heard

We have to, you know, get better jobs for people

on things and quality of life

Get them some good work

keep the people occupied and happy and

you know

dedicated to helping make a better China

So that’s all good

And then they decided to go alternative energy on all of the oil guys

and they build and they manufacture and everything else that’s green

Boom

suddenly China is no longer sending you all that moolah

Saudi Arabia or the United States or Russia

you know the big oil exporters

suddenly the oil companies lose the biggest automobile market in the world

sure

China has the largest automobile market the world

that’s number one there

So China goes crazy with electric cars

they’re really buying those Teslas

and starting to manufacture their own brands of EVs

early on they even promoted hybrids as a preliminary step

and what have you

and that’s all well and good

you know shipping out less money to the oil companies is better than shipping out more money

And then they figured out how to get rid of the hybrid model, where you put the gas in, in case your battery runs out

I’ve never been able to figure hybrids out

basically you have two completely,

well, let’s say redundant systems

so the Chinese came out early in favor of all electric cars

And then they came up with their own idea

We build the cars ourselves we build them better

and we sell recharging like they sell gasoline

pull up and swap your battery in three minutes

Guess the oil nations will need to do something to make up for all the money they've lost

2025-07-01T17:22:00.000-07:00

THIS IS NOT A COUNTRY OF LAWS

Some educated citizens cling to the notion that the United State of America is a nation of laws. Those people are quite wrong. The United States is not a country of laws. The United States of America will, as long as it survives, remain a nation of Ideals. Laws are simple tools created to implement the Ideals of this nation.

Whenever a law is written, society admits a failure. The Constitution will forever remain a marvelous document, however, the essence of the Constitution lies not in its main body, nor within its amendments (in which society recognizes how human beings often act against their own best interests), but in the easily understandable words of our Constitution’s preamble.

52 words

"We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

Why the United States of America created itself will forever be the question, and the preamble to its Constitution will constitute the rationale for its existence for as long as we are remembered. The Preamble delineates the Ideals of this nation.

Laws themself are unable to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, create Tranquility, or defend our citizens. Welfare will forever be a multi edged sword, Blessings and Liberty are rarely mentioned alongside legislation. These United States will forever be associated with its citizenry lobbying for less and less taxes, rules, regulations, and laws.

The Preamble of the Constitution enumerates the reasons for the this nation’s existence

Promote the general Welfare. This the key. Union, Justice, Tranquility, defense, Liberty, all contribute to the promotion of the general Welfare.

Promote the general Welfare has been Cited by the Supreme Court as being sufficient justification for any law to be considered Constitutional.

Since promoting the general Welfare can be considered to encompass all the other purposes enumerated within the Preamble, any law considered by the Supreme Court beneficial to the population in general, the general welfare, has to be considered Constitutional.

How much latitude does this give the Supreme Court ? Since the Supreme Court retains the ability to justify any law which they consider beneficial to the general population to be Constitutional, so, correspondingly, any law they consider not beneficial, might therefore be deemed unConstitutional.

Simplicity.

Which means all of the lawyerly nonsense regarding original intent is just that, lawyerly nonsense. Relying on precedent should only be considered an aid when a decision is to be made whether any particular law promotes the general Welfare. Again we must emphatically state that this is not a country built upon laws , but, most importantly , this is a country built upon Ideals

When lifetimes are spent in the attempt to justify laws through precedent set in times long past, when the question if the law promotes the general Welfare is never asked, perhaps some have lost their way.

If all legal gymnastics can be boiled down to whether or not certain laws promote the general Welfare or not , certainly a justification upon which the Supreme Courts has relied , this country is not a country of mere laws, this is a land whose heart and soul is dedicated to promoting the general Welfare of all who live within its borders.

2025-06-18T12:01:00.000-07:00

the song of the algorithm

from dawn’s true blue

to night sounds of content

I ride the algorithm

somewhere, unknown, but familiar

soaring through scores of

sounds and images

like timely updated images

of covers

of what once were magazines

I ride the algorithm

something once touched

a day, a year, a century, whenever

from a past forgotten

but only by myself

never for this singer

I hear the song of the algorithm

those forgotten are remembered

past grudges clicked past

voices it assumes

share something

but

remember

this is but another

horse performing Hamlet

once the oddity becomes a norm

a simple question remains

but can this algorithmic pony act?

I pan the world of the algorithm

....pjjb

2025-02-11T11:44:00.000-08:00

LUIGI

by Peter Breschard

SEE IT FROM MY POINT OF VIEW.

YOU UNDERSTAND IT, DON'T YOU?

IT'S YOU AND ME.

IT'S ALWAYS BEEN ME AND YOU.

SURE I'M IN PAIN.

GREATEST PAIN I'VE EVER KNOWN.

IN MY LIFE I'VE RARELY BEEN DENIED.

THIS PAIN WILL BE WITH ME AS LONG AS I LIVE.

OR POSSIBLY NOT.

WHEN THEY FIND A WAY TO MAKE MY AGONY GO AWAY.

I'LL BE FIRST IN LINE.

I'LL ALWAYS BE AT THE BEGINNING.

I DON'T MIND BEING ONE OF THE FIRST,

AS LONG AS NOBODY ELSE HAS TO SUFFER OR DIE.

I'M TAKING ADVANTAGE OF PRIVILEGES I HAVE HAD NO DUTY CONFERRING.

YOU UNDERSTAND DON'T YOU?

YOU GET THAT DON'T YOU?

IT IS OUR SYSTEM.

IT'S A PAYOFF.

A BRIBE.

SAID THE ORANGE PUSSYCATS.

WE ARE IDIOTS ABOUT EVERYTHING.

WITH ONE OR TWO EXCEPTIONS.

IF THAT MANY?

RIGHT?

RIGHT OR WRONG?

YES OR NO?

HOW CLOSE DO YOU HAVE TO BE?

DO YOU HAVE TO LOOK AWAY FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD?

HOW CLOSE DOES CARNAGE HAVE TO COME?

TO YOUR CITY?

IN YOUR COUNTRY?

TO YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD?

TO YOUR HOME?

TO YOUR BED?

DOES CARNAGE FOLLOW YOU TO ITS GRAVE?

TO YOUR GRAVE?

AND WHAT WOULD YOU DO TO STOP IT?

WHAT DOES THE LAW HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING?

THE GREAT ABOLITIONIST JOHN BROWN FAILED AT HARPER'S FERRY

BUT SUCCEEDED ELSEWHERE.

HE RAIDED PLANTATIONS WHERE SLAVES WERE KEPT.

BEFORE HARPERS FERRY BROWN MANAGED TO FREE SOME SLAVES.

HE TOOK HOSTAGES WHILE DOING SO.

WHERE WAS THE MORALITY THERE?

IS FREEING SLAVES NOT THE MOST NOBLE OF AMBITIONS?

NOW THERE IS A MAN DEAD WHO PARTICIPATED IN,

NO,

HE LEAD,

A DEADLY HEALTH INSURANCE FLIMFLAM

CAUSING INCALCULABLE PREVENTABLE DEATHS.

THE SLAUGHTER OF INNOCENTS.

THE RIGHT TO DEFEND A THIRD PERSON

GENERALLY COMES FROM THE RIGHT OF SELF-DEFENSE.

FACTS THAT WOULD EXCUSE A KILLING IN SELF-DEFENSE

WILL ALSO EXCUSE A KILLING IN DEFENSE OF ANOTHER.

MAKE NO MISTAKE

THE MAN I KILLED WAS A KILLER.

AND HE WAS KILLING EVERY DAY.

MAYBE WHAT I DID WILL STOP THEM.

OR, AT LEAST, BEGIN TO STOP THEIR CARNAGE.

2025-01-28T13:05:00.000-08:00

DAY ONE OF RECOVERY

by Peter Breschard

One of three men perched on the grammar school's small stage smartly lifts himself from his seat to address the gathering.

Welcome to MAGA GONE. You can call me Richard and I'd like to extend good wishes to all of the first-timers here today.

Richard raises his arms, gesturing either a wide open welcome, or somebody just kicked a field goal.

Give yourself a hand!

The group neither enthusiastically nor unenthusiastically applauds.

Yes, all of you, give them a hand!

Hands. Hands. And even more hands. It's virtually a reunion of Dutch Cousins.

All of us, I guess, we're about 35 or so here tonight. There's quite a few more than the usual number of newcomers this week. Understandable that.

All us old timers know what it's like stepping through these doors the first time. It can be a frightening experience. This is one hell of a decision you've made. We know. We've been there. We know. So welcome!

Again with the "Good Kick" signal.

You first timers are the bravest folks I've seen all day! Welcome!

Stand up and let us all take pride in you!

Richard encourages all of the newcomers to rise and they stand up. Count nears a dozen. Many nod, appreciating these warm welcomes.

All right. As you probably already know, this chapter of MAGA GONE, Make America Great Again But Just Don't Tell Anyone How We're Doing It, meets right here every week at 7:00 on the dot.

Of course we discourage tardiness but we also know life goes on outside this room, so, do your best to get here on time. But know you'll be welcome whenever you arrive. You've got enough to worry about without worrying about us.

A smattering.

Good. Now just settle in.

We've got coffee and some snacks in the back and the restrooms are, well, just follow the signs. Or the cosines. Not to go off on a tangent. Or anything like that.

Some small smutted groans.

Right. Sorry. Yeah, the jokes get worse every week but at least they all add up.

No rim shot. No rims.

No more Math, Rich.

Scattered calls from audience. Your call. Feature an identifiable face isolated from the rest?

Well thanks. That's just about sums it all up.

A gentle almost silence.

Anyhow let's get down to the business of what we're doing here. Why we're all here. And will probably be here for a while.

WE FUCKED UP

WE LISTENED AND NODDED

WE LET IT ROLL ALL OVER US

WE ACCEPTED BY NOT OBJECTING

Silence with a cleared throat. Too much?

And if you have any doubts as to why you're here, remember how much you, and maybe whoever you live with, contributed to the shit show we're all living through right now.

Some approving noises.

Thank you. And thank all of you for coming tonight. We've got a lot of work to do. A lot of cleaning up. Harry, the floor is yours.

Polite recognition and general agreement. Mumbling? Or clear verbal responses?

Hey guys, You can call me Harry and I've been with MAGA GONE for over 5 years now.

I gave up on the Chump and the rest of his clown show after he'd been in office about a year. Took me a while to connect to this group but I sure am glad I stayed looking for others who'd also tossed their little red caps into the trash. Reminds me of Mao's Little Red Book, but that's something else entirely.

Let me give you my reasons for being here.

Harry has the group's attention.

NUMBER ONE: let's start with something I think we agree on. Just about all government officials and politicians in powerful positions are crooks. Maybe there's one or two out there who isn't getting rich off the public dime, but they're rare. And a lot of us are here because we realized there is a big difference between a cop getting a free lunch at a diner and the children of their "lord and savior" on Earth's daughter and son-in-law getting billions of dollars from the Saudis. Just a little bit of a difference. A couple of billion. We all know that, but some still haven't realized what it means. Telling your barber to take a little off the top is a whole lot different than having him shave your head bald.

Mostly attentive silence?

NUMBER TWO: Which leads into my second point. There are way too many MAGA extremists. There are way too many of them willing to execute members of my own family who had an abortion. You know it's true. These folks are rabid. I mean it's one thing to post something online, it's another thing altogether to fire bomb a city because you think there's too much litter. MAGA is just too full of way too many crazies. Damn they are dangerous. Owning a rifle is one thing. Owning a couple of dozen machine guns and the makings for a bunch of IEDs is another.

A couple of "you bet brother"s. And possibly a woman's voice is heard. Yes/No?

NUMBER THREE: They claim to be all pro-American and America first and all that but MAGA leaders will sell out to foreign interests for a dollar. It takes a bit of time to realize just how much all those MAGA corporations are basically controlled by foreign oil money. Hell, the oil companies themselves are pretty much run by Middle Eastern money. The MAGA leadership wants corporations, foreigners, to control this country. MAGA's leadership has been bought and sold to those foreign aliens I don't even know how many times.

Preach.

NUMBER FOUR: Life isn't professional wrestling. It's ain't the WWE. Village idiots shouldn't be in positions of power. You know it's fun watching everybody throw chairs at one another on a Saturday morning but you also have to know when it's time to hire somebody to pick up the garbage once a week, you don't want somebody whose skill set is knowing how to beat their own chest, throw chairs into the ring, and scream and cuss at their opponent. Choosing somebody who's done the job, or at least something like it, before should be taken into account before hiring them. It's our goddamn tax money they're throwing away when they put total incompetent a-holes into places they have no place being.

NUMBER FIVE: We're not racists

Amen to that, here and there. Or something less religious?

Democrats talk down to people. Trump told us lots of horrible shit but he never called us or our family "deplorables". It sure is real easy not to like Dems. But...

But pardoning cop killers? I know this was the last straw for some of you newbies here tonight. Cruds who beat up cops trying to protect the Congress? Are they frigging kidding? If a bank guard dies from a heart attack after a bank robbery the same way those cops did following the attack on Congress, those robbers are prosecuted for murder. The maniacs who broke into the Capitol should be tried for murder the same way anybody is if someone dies while they're committing a crime.

Serious applause? Stunned silence?

We're not racists. Not the way people think. Sure maybe we're not found fond of blacks. We don't like ghetto shit. Boy. But it's more like we don't like different shit. We were raised with white people, for the most part. So we're used to the white way of doing things. Hell, I've only had jerk chicken once in my life. It's the strange that bothers us. Black, brown, yellow, most of us don't care. As long as you don't serve food that's not steaks, burgers, and all the fixings. And we don't mean to get any more bad off financially than we might already be. Keep the cheap seats away from us. Poor people of any type probably want what we already have.

My mother's older brother, my uncle Phil, didn't get shot and killed fighting Germans so some foreign punk can stand next to the President of the United States and act like he's the richest Nazi who ever lived. Take your heil Hitler salute and shove it where the sun don't shine, you little piece of shit.

Applause and some whistling. One or two"Fuck 'em"s.

Here's Jake.

Harry sits down

Usual response.

Jake moves to center stage. Microphone or no?

Both parties are wasting our time on insignificant shit like checking passport boxes for sex orientation. Only 17,000 people a year are affected by that. 17,000 out of something like 350 million. That's one out of every 20,000 people. Why are they wasting our time? Both sides screaming constantly about little crap. Wasting our time on something so insignificant and at the same time in our country and around the world it's the hottest ever. I want my grandchildren to live in a world where the temperature is under a hundred degrees all the time. Who gives a flaming whatever if somebody you will never meet checks some stupid government form?

I'm old enough to remember when Los Angeles had the worst smog outside of India. We fixed that pretty much even when the oil companies said smog was bull hockey.

And all this abortion crap. We know we're not going to have our 14 year old daughter have a rapist's child. Ain't going to happen. No way. It's time we came to decisions like that and let other folks know how wrong they are.

We're tired of people thinking it's all our fault. It isn't. Most our families weren't in this country before the damn Civil War. We couldn't have owned slaves.

Our families worked their asses off just to stay alive. Like everybody else's families. Maybe we got helped a little more than most but we never had any say in all that. We're working like everybody else.

Just give me a slice, a beer, and let me watch the game on a big screen. What's the matter with that? I know it's not that simple. But all the money is going into the hands of people who just want to keep us down and us never looking up to see how good things actually could be.

This is America, damn, and the people taking our money aren't the people who have nothing. They really are not the real threat. It's the people who already have it all and just want more and more and more who reach into our pockets and take what they want.

I hope no one in your families ever gets real sick and the hospital expenses just wipe you out. I've seen it. I've been close to that being me. It's bad news. And Black Rock and the rest of them just make more and more cash for each one of us who just dies before the insurance companies shell out to pay for your real needs. I don't know. I don't know. Thanks.

Jake sits.

More enthusiastic or more sympathetic responses?

Rabble roused or hearts touched?

Richard stands.

Remember, we don't want you to do anything rash now that you've come to understand what MAGA really is. We've heard stories of guys, mostly guys, who realized what idiots they've been. How much harm they've done, and they've gone to either hurt themselves or blown up a building or something really stupid.

No, Sir.

None of that here. None of that. And if you ever get to feeling like, like you want to hurt yourself, or hurt something else, or somebody else, you just pick up your cell and call that number we gave you when you walked into this auditorium.

That's why we're here tonight. We're here to help each other get through this and maybe help some others along the way.

Remember there's coffee in the back.

Half stand. Some begin quiet conversations with their neighbors. Small groups?

Richard.

Well, we've been here a while and you old timers know how to make the newbies feel right at home. So anybody else have something to say?

Public silence? Private voices.

OK. Then coffee and snacks in the back, like I said. I know some of you guys will be heading over to the Roadhouse later on so that's about it.

Some from the group leave the auditorium.

Next week same time same place

We'll all help America be great again but this time without MAGA.

Have a good night folks.

Close or continue?

END

2024-11-21T12:33:00.002-08:00

IN CONVERSATION WITH # (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR) AND # (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

(# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR) AND # (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN))

by Peter Breschard

(NOTE: Across an unadorned pine table #4 and #7 at times look to one another.)

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

What do you do when the cache is full? Does it all spill out into some universe none of us have ever imagined?

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Say what?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

No, think about it From that first instant when, all at once, the senses release themselves to this universe. Immense amounts of what might as well be called data, bombards us with an incalculable jumble.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

You are going to continue this?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Do we simply create the reality our senses transmit to our brain and all the jigsaw pieces are editorialized and sorted and indexed and filed? And we put these jigsaw pieces somewhere near other similar pieces and then we name it?

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

You want a coffee?

(NOTE: Gender neutral. GODOT. Use best actors available.

They sit across from one another at the table.

Omniscient narrator and characters.)

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Which inevitably leads to how I created you and everything else I perceive.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Thank gods!

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Not that I am. Silly. Certainly not by my own conception of such a creator. By definition: Non.

Does attaining a certain age effect the editing process?

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Of course. Is there any place worth calling out for so we can eat in?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

All those years atop one another. Quadrillions of sensory data feeds. Memory of data bits, bytes, buffered beyond belief.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Or a B Plus.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

There has to be a limit. We are solids, not ethereal. (I would creatively assume.)

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Do we actually play it this way?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Any way we want to play it. Or I want to play it. Or you want to play it, if what I am perceiving as my own creation turns out to be simply your projection of me attempting to understand what you are projecting of my own character in relation to yours. It's all quite simple if we view it that way.

(NOTE: They push their chairs inches away from the table.)

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Or not.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

For the moment, let us assume that you are my creation.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Thank you so very much.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Do you dream?

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

At times. Often before breakfast.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Do you dream of a day you have already imagined to live? And in your dream are only small details deformed?

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Deformed? Do you mean changed? How much do we have to tip for delivery? Could I possibly imagine a larger tip?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

There it is. A dream of fortune. So common.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

There were mornings before attending child school. Changing faces of numerous pedagogues. Possibly seeing what would occur later in the day. Possibly living in a memory of a distorted memory within a dream. Possibly your dream. Or mine.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

We take our previous interpretation, and we dream of finer design. We send that imagining into the as yet unknowing universe.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Our dreams are other interpretations. We might or might not still choose? Coffee?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Always will remain a possibility of going back. But again, how can we have initial sensory input if all we know to be is our own construct? Which could not have existed before one's own consciousness.

NOTE: They sit two minutes drinking coffee.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Difficult to design a tastier cup.

(NOTE: Should reader be brought in at this point?)

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Imagine that.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

I really don't have to. I am drinking it.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

So you see what's been done? Don't you?

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Smell. Eyeball. Touch. Taste. Yes, I have the general idea. And if I slosh it around a bit, I can hear it.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

When did you imagine the coffee plantations in South America? I know I didn't. So you must have dreamt all the heat, humidity, and the inhumane slave trade along with everything else that goes into harvesting little beans someone grinds to bits then lets sit in nearly boiling water until every last flavinoid, or whatever, blends with the H2O, and you imagine such a combination to be in some ways enjoyable. Good for you.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Why don't we both leave administration of these worldly estates to you?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Wouldn't that be nice?

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Fine by me.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

One of us created this world. At least as far as I can now imagine. We certainly are responsible for our creations. We own the world's horrors before our coming to this consciousness. And what will certainly arrive in our perceived future.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Then we certainly can change the past, our future, and this present. Is the door unlocked for the delivery driver?

----------

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

There was a time before?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Before time? There was? Another construct. Created by you or me or the construct itself? So like a picture frame. To isolate what you don't wish to blend into the wall.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Even ancient art?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Can you imagine a worse frame for a drawing than a cave? Adorn your art with poorly illuminated moist rock?

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

But there are positives.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Of course there are. Oil paint on canvas can only last so long but art hidden deep within a cave, undisturbed for thousands of centuries, will exist until rediscovered and brought to destruction by the eyes that view.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Nothing is eternal.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Nothing is. Nothing precedes everything. Ergo nothing is eternal but art most certainly is not.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

That's an idea.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Most certainly and to my point of view, one of your best. But the idea itself, now that certainly cannot be eternal.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Thought is not eternal?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

A construct. What we view as thought exists as how we perceive it. Is it expressed in language? Does it exist as an image, be it two or three or possibly four dimensional? We express the thought within our own constructs. Languages perish. Never rediscovered. Three dimensional objects revert to dust. Expressing thought dooms itself by its own existence. Expression is never timeless.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

"I think therefor I am."

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

"Cogito ergo sum." Dare you disagree? If one fails to think does one simply fade into an indescribable form of ether? Or is thought process a thing constantly aware? If you can never stop thinking does thought enslave? Is it thought alone that so many wish to escape? If you imagine life to be eternal what are the limitations to your imagining of existence?

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

I think I hear our food.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

I hear therefor I eat.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

I eat therefor I am.

----------

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

And don't forget the background players.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

How can there be a background? Does it not entirely depend upon your focus? What's in the foreground and background all depends upon from where you view.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

And what is that I'm hearing?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Oh, it's always the radio. Your, our, entire kaboodles. Close your eyes. Hear our quiet. Cut out all extraneous noise. And then, it's all radio.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

Open your eyes. Their, ours, whoever.

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Third base.

----------

VOICE OVER

Taken from IMMORTAL TALES FROM NINETEEN PLANETS. For those of you just joining us now, we've been participating in IN CONVERSATION WITH #(NUMBER) 4 (FOUR) AND # (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN). Have you marveled and puzzled yet? Have #4 and #7 created wonder within your own weary world.

VOICE OVER

But isn't that why we are all here? We've all known creatures similar to #(NUMBER) 4 (FOUR) and # (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN). Are we not similar to them ourselves? Think about that for a moment. But to return.

----------

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

We create our worlds? All the upsides and all the downsides? We create languages which we'll never understand spoken by people of our imagination who we will never meet? And if they never become a concept within our own consciousness they will never exist?

# (NUMBER) 7 (SEVEN)

Now you're getting the idea? Or I'm elaborating on a theme entirely new to me where you begin to become a creature of awareness unto yourself. Of course an imaginary creature, such as yourself, could easily become as corporeal as I and begin your own creation voyage. That's not out of the range of utilitarianism which is often of use to myself.

# (NUMBER) 4 (FOUR)

So how does all of this play out? Cannot I create works of art which will keep me from becoming bored and disillusioned ever again? Can we expand every expanse to be free from ever experiencing eternal ennui?

WHERE’S LAURENCE HARVEY NOW THAT WE NEED HIM?

2024-06-29T19:36:00.000-07:00

Take today as an example. Did the nine-to-five without breaking a sweat or breaking into song, so that’s a victory. Had a fine dinner and later as I was sprawled out on the couch an odd assortment of concepts congealed into something somewhat frightening.

They really don’t need him anymore.

“There’s no way he’s going to be this organization’s Presidential candidate.” Beppo had control of the room. “As a matter of fact, there are many of us who consider him an extreme liability. More than anything else, Americans hate horse thieves. And they really, really will fire the wrath of God on a, lying, horse thief. And a whole bunch of our people are seeing him that way now.

“Let’s face it, he’s had his run. It’s time to turn this fucking limping, screeching, obnoxious liability into the best kind of asset we can.”

“How’s about he sicks it out? Comes down with malaria or something?” Kitchen appeared lost in thought.

“Definitely considered. Definitely. His royal fatness, I am sure, hosts numerous ailments which might do him in at any moment but, although illness would very well turn this situation into an asset, we think we might have a way to eke out even more mileage from the old boy.”

“Inheritance baby resigns and anoints another?” Glastonbury intoned the obvious.

“You know Fats isn’t gonna go for that.” Ripper snorted while straightening his tie.

“We have discussed this. As was mentioned, it’s never going to happen. Knowing full well that if you don’t win your fate will be much more dire than losing an election for some boondock mayorality, you know he’s not bowing out. He’ll fight on to all of our detriment. Allow me now to share the thoughts of the committee.

“You all know I am a fan of old movies. Listen for a minute or two.” Beppo smiled and eyeballed his notes.

“Now here’s how it happens. And might I say here that most necessary elements for this endeavor are already in place, patiently awaiting their time.

“The committee has spent many months reviewing any number of plausible scenarios. We do our darnedest to cover at least the bare minimum of possibilities. These particular circumstances were guesstimated very, very high, and this scenario is the culmination of our best efforts.

“All would come to an end soon after our clown emerges victorious at the convention.

“This past Tuesday an outspoken transsexual, whose outward appearance is that of a woman, was brought in by our men and is currently under, let’s say, heavy sedation until that time when it will be needed. That’s Number One.”

“They don’t by any chance happen to know each other, do they, Beppo?” Kitchen again.

“Actually I’m not privy to such detail. Compartmentalization, they say. I’ll bring it up. Back to it then.

“Number Two is ex-Iranian military. Ranger type or at least their equivalent. Sharp. He’ll be fallback in case something goes totally astray but we imagine more beneficial outcomes if our primary, Number One, takes the fall.”

“Will any blues be injured?” Wall was always concerned about her troops.

“Not if everything, or at least most everything, plays out the way we think it should. Only one fatality on site.”

“Will any friends be there?” Kitchen was leading this inquisition.

“Three, I’m telling you, three of our people will be on stage with him. Couldn’t believe it when they told me. Three.”

“Out of how many?”

"Mostly the rest of the family. Some high ranking media echoers. Like I said, three, getting into position should be relatively a bit easier.

“Logistics, transport, local enforcement, already in place.

"Still working on a go signal. Certainly a minor issue. His roundness doesn’t read very well so we can’t use cue words inserted into his victory speech. I’ve tried and failed to imagine how much blather that would be but, as some might say, words fail me.”

“Is he that much of a liability? I always considered him moderately amusing. Does it have to come to this?” Rayon decided to make their presence known.

“Our research, and unanimous consent of committee with their considerable experience, say yes. He has to go in a way most beneficial to our organization. Research sees him as a loser and his name alone costs the down tickets almost everything. With him gone, in our maximalist fashion, we will still lose the big one but the harm to down tickets will not be fatal. It’s do or die time.

"Sometime after the nomination and toward the beginning of his acceptance speech, we don’t want it to be at less than five but no more then ten minutes. If it were up to me I’d be as close to five as practical. Who needs listening to his shit more than necessary?”

“Is Tip Top here tonight or are we going to have to wait until morning to get the picks? “

“Wait until morning. The markets will be just as open for business as they ever are. I’m told none of TipTop’s tips are particularly time sensitive.”

“I’m guessing Number One will encounter some heroic blue and not-survive?”

“Covered in, what do they call it? GSR. Gun Shot Residue. Which will match the weapon used by Number Two.

“Number Two will be found dead, somewhere little known and far away, within the week. Another knotted end.” Beppo grinned.

Continuing: “Two shots. Clean. Head. Chest. Suspect dies in firefight with our courageous blues. Any further questions?"

“And I’m assuming one of our three friends on stage with him will jump in and, cradling Fat’s volleyball of a head in their arms give a speech for the ages.” Oddly, Kitchen actually said this with a wide smile.

“Absolutely. You’re getting it. You’ve seen the movie. This will be a speech the Committee has been working on for nearly a year. Just in case events like those we now have might occur. At the end of the speech with the babbling, drooling, dribbling, dying candidate’s head in the new candidate’s arms, the entire country will be moved to tears and we might as well enthrone our speechifying friend as the new POTUS then and there; bloodstained battered but ready to defend our United States of America! Vote for Me and god bless America!

“And finally. And finally after all of these years. She will, as she cradles our fat, inane martyr to her breast and calls on America to avenge this attack on Christianity and our Homeland, Sarah Palin will, after all of our blood, sweat and tears, become the next President of Our United States!

by Peter Breschard

Texas Two-Step

2022-12-17T13:48:00.006-08:00

12/16/2022

“I pity the fool attempting to diagnose Breschard.” said Doctor T.

It has come to my attention that a rumor or story or factual report has been circulating that I have recently been discovered to be the proud owner of a bladder cancer. At this moment in time I want to put an end to the speculation that I have been so afflicted by stating categorically that I am indeed dancing with bladder cancer.

Not to worry. It's being dealt with.

Let's go back a few months, late June. My BW, Nell, is teaching a miniatures class in Castine, Maine, when she comes down with COVID. She could only remain housed where she was for three more days and quarantines were meant to be at least seven, so it came down to me to make the 1,100 mile drive from our home in Michigan to Castine to pick her up and take her back to our suburban paradise. I like to drive, but a 2,200 mile round trip does put a bit of a dent into one’s weekend plans. The emergency evacuation went well, but on the first day of my drive I made a rest stop for the usual reasons. While visiting the porcelain upright throne I noticed my urine was not its ordinary pale yellow but a glorious crimson.

Not to worry, probably just a kidney stone seeking its freedom. The rest of the rescue mission was non-eventful and from then until now my body has remained gloriously asymptomatic.

Back at my home WiFi I promptly did what any 2022 citizen does and Googled what to do when you see blood in your urine and haven’t recently received a pounding kidney punch from your significant other. What you do is see your doctor. Checked it a dozen times and they all said see your doctor. Probably not a serious problem, could be from driving too much, but you should see your doctor.

I made a non-emergency appointment with my GP. In three weeks.

Saw my GP and she had me take all the usual tests.

A few days later an appointment was made with a urinary surgical oncologist (my dream job as an eight year old). Three weeks.

Meet the oncologist. He fist bumps me and calls me “Buddy”. Twenty-five years my junior and he calls me “Buddy”.

Schedule an exploratory procedure. Let’s say in another two weeks. I could look up all the exact dates, but why bother?

I get set for the procedure where they are to send some kind of alien technology probe up my penis for a look see. I’m cool, relaxed, and wearing a backless dress for maybe the second time in my life. Everything going swell, three other people in the room, and I’m not sweating this at all. They swab or whatever my Willie, and my “Buddy” says that will numb me sufficiently. I have no problem with drugs designed to keep pain in abeyance.

Then they send the Raquel Welch piloted probe up my Precious.

I doubt any of you have ever heard me scream. Let me say here that I was quite loud. It was a feeling I can only imagine to be similar to having a saguaro cactus shoved through that tiny, tiny hole at the tip of the penis. Aside from what might be considered impolite screamed verbiage I distinctly remember yelling at the top of my lungs that I should start singing in my usual horrible voice so at least the three of them could experience some pain. I don’t know how long the pain lasted but rather rapidly my “Buddy” called a halt to the procedure. My guess is “Buddy” didn’t wait long enough for the pain killer to take effect. But that’s just an amateur’s opinion.

Buddy came in later and apologized. I was most gracious and said words to the effect of “shit happens”.

Schedule a procedure where they’ll put me under general and try to remove a tumor in my bladder. Three weeks more.

Meantime I see my GP again and she reads the report, which I’d already perused

Apparently there were some code words I’m not privy to, that indicated I didn’t have a swell time with my last procedure.

Meantime I’m having MRIs or other very expensive shit like that. Again I could look it up, but I’m not going to. Interrupts my narrative flow.

Three weeks and I’m on an operating table for the first time since I had my tonsils taken out when I was about 10. I’ve been one healthy camper much to the surprise of many.

They put me out. They go in. I wake up. Eventually my “Buddy” let’s me know that he couldn’t do the whole job since my bladder is the proud owner of a “diverticulum” which is basically the same thing as a corner pocket on a pool table. Buddy couldn’t get into the pocket to remove everything. Probably never played pool in a barroom when he was cracking those texts in undergrad. Lab says definitely cancer.

Schedule another what they call a TURBT. (trans urethral resection of bladder tumor). Buddy also informs me around this time that I’ll probably have to have my bladder removed. Happy! Happy! Happy!

Another month passes and Buddy goes in again. Gets most I guess. Lab tests, similar shit.

Buddy recommends me to one of his work pals who I guess will be handling my chemo. Three more weeks to meet the guy. New doc comes to my appointment and shows such concern for my case that he’s reading my file for the first time as he’s talking to my BW and myself. Such professionalism. I can do cold reads better than that.

I have to credit Buddy and the other guy with one thing. They both suggested I get a second opinion. Nearest good hospital is University of Michigan about an hour away. Buddy told me some of his patients don’t get a second opinion because it’s too far away. I don’t kiss my bladder goodbye that quickly, and I like to drive.

A month later at U of M. Welcome to OZ. New doc is another surgical oncologist. It seems to me, although my BW disagrees, that she was ready to remove my organ (What - no monkey?) until I ask her if there is a way to treat my condition other than surgery.

And she says “When you have a hammer.”

Anybody who knows me reasonably well understands my style includes a healthy respect for non-elaboration. Basically I aim for an audience which is at least as clever as a bright sophomore in high school. At that age you shouldn’t need to have everything explained to you. “When you have a hammer” should be enough for a good reader to bring to mind “When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” What’s necessary with a little mental work, and no more.

Click.

New doc suggests I see a radiologist in her group. An alternative including radiation and chemo is proposed instead of removing my pal, myself, my bladder.

Radio guy gives me a COVID fist bump but definitely doesn’t call me “Buddy”.

Another TURBT is scheduled in a month which happens to have been yesterday.

I’m writing this with another catheter shoved up my cock, that’s what happens after every one of my TURBTs and this is my third TURBT. Definitely not the definition of “A real pisser.” (Pissah for youse Bostonians.)

Yesterday my BW chats with my second opinion first doc while I’m still under anesthesia and I’m later informed that the doc says that she’s “cautiously optimistic” after scraping my bladder again that I might not need any further treatment. We’ll hear about that in another five days or so but will probably have to schedule another extremely expensive MRI. (I love the way the medical profession makes up imaginary numbers for their billing departments. Hey, we’ll charge the government 30K for this and by the way you still owe us a hundred bucks. I bring them an imaginary 30K worth of business and they still want a hundred bucks from me? I’d say decimate the MBAs but I’d lose too many friends.)

As of now it’s all looking pretty good. Even if I still need some treatment, radiation and chemo appear to work pretty well. But there’s hope that I might not need any at all.

With any luck in couple of weeks I’ll be able to say, like Emily Litella, “Never mind.”

Couple of weeks. I could probably do that even with a catheter up my cock the whole time. Fortunately the catheter is coming out Wednesday.

…………

A quick note. When I get past all of this, I hope to Thor nobody refers to me as a fuqqin cancer survivor. When somebody or something attacks someone and they beat them back and away, you don’t call the victor a survivor. When Ali wiped the canvas with Foreman, nobody called Ali a survivor. When I beat the crap out of this cancer I’ll allow all of you to call me Champ. And Champ I’ll remain until I’m Champ no longer.

................

12/22/2022

Word from the pill pushers is that the cancerous growth has probably been totally removed and has not invaded the rest of my corpus. Will need a few more tests to confirm but this is the best news I could have expected. I'm so happy I think I'll go out and play in traffic!

START MAKING SENSE

2020-08-15T11:10:00.000-07:00

Now that our presidential race has almost begun (you really can’t start a prezzie grudge match until both bloated corporate tweedle parties, Deepubs and Deedems, have officially selected their designated mouthpiece), it’s time to clear up some matters.

Anyone, and I mean anyone, who barfs out the slogan, “Not voting for Biden is the same as voting for Chump!” should have their high school diploma revoked (Being most generous in assuming they were awarded one. Possibly a participation trophy?). This bit of brilliance is right up there with “You’re either for me or against me!”, both being mental products designed to enrage rather than enlighten. “Mess with me and I’ll burn down your cave” kind of wisdom.

By the kindergarten logic employed by those Deedems who weep and wail each and every time, and really, each and every time, the name Chump is mentioned (almost four years now, get over it and do something productive instead of allowing that dimwit to guide your attention) what these deluded sloganeers are also saying is, “Not voting for Chump is the same as voting for Biden!” What’s good for the gander is certainly good for the goose. Unfortunately for the Deedems, it appears that even their opponents (as dim as they certainly are) don’t make such silly, threatening (actually laughable) statements.

A vote for Chump is a vote for Chump. A vote for Biden is a vote for Biden. A vote for anyone else is a vote for anyone else. Just because it’s not the Atlantic Ocean doesn’t mean it’s the Pacific. I am seriously surprised any of these deluded partisans were able to pass the written part of their driver’s test.

And now, those running for president can address the following issues. If I agree with their positions, they might earn my support. “My guy is better than your guy” simply doesn’t fly with me.

Put an end to all fracking and oil supports immediately.

The Green New Deal, now.

Medicare for All. Healthcare is a human right. The buying and selling of human rights was pretty much decided by our Civil War. Both parties are presently opposed. Anyone who opposes Medicare for All and is not being compensated by the for-profit healthcare industry is a fool. These companies pay good money to their salespeople. And those who aren’t fools but deny being compensated, well, liars and thieves.

Subsidize electric vehicles and pay our fellow Americans to decommission their present gasoline machines. Cash for clunkers.

Withdraw our troops from almost all foreign bases and cut the defense budget by a whole bunch.

Guaranteed income, definitely worth discussing.

Ending the revolving door government/corporate lobbyist nonsense. Make it illegal for anyone officially involved in government to lobby for at least five years after receiving a government paycheck.

Stopping Congress members from investing in the stock market and profiting from privileged information.

Robin Hood tax on Wall Street. Wealth Tax. Raising taxes a good bunch on those earning over $200,000 a year. And end so many other policies the extreme wealthy have burdened this country with for decades.

All of these items involve money.

Certainly not all of them will be addressed in ways with which I’ll agree, but to earn my support some have to be addressed in ways which won’t destroy the earth or imperil our existence. I am unimpressed by Deedems who say they’re all for equal rights when those equal rights equally allow their wealthy donors to exploit each and every one of us. Slavery and capitalism are both economic systems. We all know where the money and power is, it’s time to go out and get it before this planet becomes the ultimate hothouse and we all turn orange.

DIE BOOMERS DIE

2020-03-11T06:05:00.001-07:00

It’s time for the “Baby Boom” babies to DIE already.

Make no mistake, these are my people. I have lived among these self-centered, pampered, pompous assholes for my entire life, more years than I care to remember.

The vast majority of the boomers sold out long before their bellies no longer fit into their Levis.

Bernie Sanders got clobbered last night. No doubt about that.

But Bernie won among Democratic voters under the age of 50. Right, 50 year olds, not exactly teenagers. He won big among the folks who have waited decades for the Boomers to get off the stage and allow a new generation to sing. But, no, the Boomers still want it all for themselves.

Face it, Boomer Geezers refuse to believe they’re already old and decrepit. They hog all the money and the houses and pay a thousand dollars a ticket to see cadaverous 75 year olds prance around on stage playing hits from 60 years ago, narcissism to the extreme. Boomers think they have the wisdom of age, at the same time believing in their heart they’re 18 years old.

And now they’ve fucked over their children, and their grandchildren, and everyone else who isn’t old enough to get free Medicare like they do. We’ve got ours, FU.

Boom Geezers voted almost 3 to 1 against the interests of those who still have decades left to live if they survive without proper healthcare, and if climate change doesn’t do them in. But the Boomers could give less of a rat’s ass about things like that. They’ll be dead. One can hope.

They voted for a man who helped lead us into that ongoing disaster, the Iraq War. Boomer Geezers voted for a man who up until nine months ago was more than content to let poor women bleed to death in some back alley rather than allow them to control their own bodies.

This from a generation who were supposedly all about “Peace”. Put away all those love beads, you skeletal hippies, we all know now that the “Peace” you wanted was only for yourself.

Boom Geezers want to remain cozy and coddled in their navel gazing cocoons, and the rest of the world, the rest of America, anyone other than themselves, can simply fuck off.

This world may have a chance once these addled Rolling Stone fans eventually decide to shuffle off their mortal coil. But until then, they will stick around, seemingly forever, and mindlessly destroy anyone or anything that dares interfere with their lethal self-centered buzz.

Take Pride In Your Right to Arm Bears

2019-08-07T14:05:00.000-07:00

There are thousands of faceless heroes out there on the Internet and on the airwaves. It’s about time they came forward and claimed the recognition they so justly deserve.

These brave soldiers battle for their and others’ freedoms each and every day. When events occur which will forever justify their labors, they are all too often forgotten while the spotlight shifts to other more easily accessible subjects.

Still they sit at their keyboards, or call in to their radio programs, or attend their rallies. But now things have certainly changed. It’s time for all of you who have worked so hard, to get your own special brand of recognition. It’s time for you to come out and take a bow. It’s time for all American citizens to see who you really are and to appreciate your life’s work.

Step forward and claim your just rewards, all you fighters for easy access to weapons of mass murder. You are truly the unsung heroes of the slaughters in El Paso, Texas, and Dayton, Ohio.

For years you have fought against any law which might have caused the killers the slightest inconvenience in obtaining their instruments of death. “There must be no impediment for mass murderers in obtaining firearms!” you so loudly proclaimed. You cited one section of the Constitution so often that many forgot the rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. All important must be the ability of those chronically deranged to obtain weaponry with the ability to tear through the flesh of their fellow citizens in as rapid a manner as possible.

You are truly those chosen by the Lord.

Shout it from the rooftops! Put ads on TV! Be a guest of FOX News! Let the world know that you were the ones who helped grease the path for the killers to take so many innocent lives! Let the country know that without you and your constant battle for easy access to weapons of war there quite probably would never have been these massacres! You have stood up for your version of the law, and who cares how many lives have to be snuffed out in the process! El Paso and Dayton only prove your point that America needs guns in the hands of the deranged in order to be safe and free!

Shout it loud that you few, you happy few, you band of brothers, have fought long and hard for the rights of the homicidal to purchase assault weapons so they can rip apart the bodies of children, women, and men as they go about their everyday lives.

Take pride in how you work for free for those who profit greatly from the manufacture and sale of machines whose sole purpose is to end life.

Your brilliance should be celebrated by the world. Feel no guilt for the many murders you have aided and abetted. Take pride in the blood in the streets.

You are a true work of genius. 32 bodies were added to your list in recent days. You should feel such pride. Let no court accuse you of depraved indifference.

Where would we all be without patriots like you?

-----------------------------------

2019-03-14T18:03:00.002-07:00

AND THEN WE WIN

It’s been a while since I last put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, or chisel to rock, but at the moment I think I might have something to say. Usually I try to write about the moral depravity of corporate Democrats, but since Chump has placed his orange ass all over this country, making jokes about those in power has been so easy just about everyone is doing it.

For a change I will not indulge in my dentured biting satire and tell all of you how to finally get Medicare for All passed.

STOP TALKING ABOUT HOW TO PAY FOR MEDICARE FOR ALL

Theories about how to divvy up money are like assholes, everyone has one and they all stink. Once the Republicans and corporate Democrat hacks start talking about money, you’ve already lost the battle. You’re talking about meaningless economic theories which leads to a Tower of Babel from where you will never return. Leave money out of the conversation.

HERE ARE THE TALKING POINTS TO WIN EVERY MEDICARE FOR ALL DEBATE

#1) BODY COUNT

Approximately 59,000 Americans died during the Vietnam War.
Since 2014, the first full year of the Affordable Care Act, until now, academic studies have estimated that between 90,000 and 200,000 Americans have died from a lack of health insurance or from inadequate health insurance.
So, in the last five years almost two to four times as many Americans died from the for-profit insurance industry as Americans died in Vietnam.
Medicare for All would have prevented all the deaths from these causes.

#2) GUILT

If you oppose, or do not fully support, Medicare for All, you must bear your share of responsibility for those Americans who will die because they remain uninsured or under insured. Approximately 30,000 of your fellow citizens will die this year and all following years for these reasons.
If you oppose Medicare for All you must bear responsibility for your words and actions.
Medicare for All will bring to virtually zero the number of these preventable deaths.

#3) WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?

The problem isn't paying for Medicare for All, the problem is 30,000 Americans needlessly die each year because we don't have it.

#4) DO YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER WITH THAT MOUTH?

What kind of a human being are you if you let 30,000 Americans die each year rather than support Medicare for All?

#5) YOU ARE GUILTY AS SIN AND YOUR ASS IS GOING TO HELL

In opposing Medicare for All you are actively keeping Medicare for All from preventing the preventable deaths of 30,000 Americans each year. You, and people like you, bear responsibility for these deaths. Hope you have a good night’s sleep.

#6) IF YOU DON’T LIKE WHAT’S ON THE MENU, GO EAT SOMEWHERE ELSE

If you have a better plan for preventing the preventable deaths of 30,000 Americans a year, I'd like to hear it. And how many people will unnecessarily die every year from preventable causes if we go your way?

And that should shut them up but good.

These are the talking points. Go get ‘em, kids. Watch those idiots squirm.

2018-12-11T08:29:00.003-08:00

Good morning, campers.

Due to popular demand I’ve made a list of all the shit I think you’ll need in order to make six gallons (about 28 bottles) of really fine Pinot Noir at home. After you’ve made your first batch you’ll realize how easy this game actually is.

I’ve linked to Amazon but if you have a reasonable homebrew shop somewhere close by, you should be able to get all you need from them.

All prices aren’t the cheapest but I used them because I’m inherently lazy and you can shop around yourself if you want to bring the price point of a bottle down from $4 to $3.50.

It looks like the first two cases might run about $200 with initial purchase of equipment but after that the only real cost is the price of the kit. My kits usually run about $85 so 85/27 = $3.15 a bottle. Plus about a dime for the cork.

Wine Kit - Vintner's Reserve - Pinot Noir
https://www.amazon.com/Wine-Kit-Vintners-Reserve-Pinot/dp/B072R3KVHS/ref=sr_1_18?ie=UTF8&qid=1544544240&sr=8-18&keywords=pinot+noir+wine+kit

Bucket Kit, Two White 7 Gallon Buckets with White Gamma Seal Lids
https://www.amazon.com/Bucket-White-Gallon-Buckets-Gamma/dp/B016R2RVRY/ref=sr_1_20?ie=UTF8&qid=1544544404&sr=8-20&keywords=7+gallon+plastic+bucket+food+grade

28 empty wine bottles

Homebrew Airlock Beer Wine Brewing Bubble Fermentation Bung & Bubbler Bucket Air Valve
https://www.amazon.com/Homebrew-Airlock-Brewing-Fermentation-Bubbler/dp/B075NC3D6R/ref=sr_1_14?ie=UTF8&qid=1544544549&sr=8-14&keywords=alcohol+bubbler

Racking cane
https://www.amazon.com/Racking-Cane-inch-inches-long/dp/B000E66A36/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1544544640&sr=8-8&keywords=homebrew+siphon

Tubing
https://www.amazon.com/Learn-Brew-LLC-Grade-Tubing/dp/B000E62TCC/ref=pd_bxgy_328_img_2?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B000E62TCC&pd_rd_r=5e557846-fd5f-11e8-9bd0-c192ba7c048e&pd_rd_w=FZygX&pd_rd_wg=yv8PE&pf_rd_p=6725dbd6-9917-451d-beba-16af7874e407&pf_rd_r=NTKPDH1CZ6H98SC0N7EF&psc=1&refRID=NTKPDH1CZ6H98SC0N7EF

Bottle filler
https://www.amazon.com/Home-Brew-Ohio-H8-PQQ5-T5KB-Bottle/dp/B007VFBLNC/ref=pd_sim_328_5?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B007VFBLNC&pd_rd_r=72938197-fd5f-11e8-b8c1-1f0fd5300496&pd_rd_w=nYFlE&pd_rd_wg=rmsGw&pf_rd_p=18bb0b78-4200-49b9-ac91-f141d61a1780&pf_rd_r=699MC06MECK80EAZFKYG&psc=1&refRID=699MC06MECK80EAZFKYG

Bleach or other sanitizer

Corks
https://www.amazon.com/Straight-Corks-15-16-Bag/dp/B07HHCQCGW/ref=sr_1_10?s=industrial&ie=UTF8&qid=1544545130&sr=1-10&keywords=wine+corks

Corker
https://www.amazon.com/Double-Lever-Hand-Corker-Synthetic/dp/B07JB97PT7/ref=sr_1_2_sspa?s=industrial&ie=UTF8&qid=1544545175&sr=1-2-spons&keywords=wine+corker&psc=1

(While your booze is bubbling away, there just might be a discernible aroma.)

Your Money or Your Life, Mr. Lime

2017-09-05T14:45:00.002-07:00

One of my all time favorite movies is The Third Man, directed by Carol Reed. When Graham Greene adapted his novella into a screenplay, perhaps the world was a more understandable place. The post World War II period never seemed simple to me. Somehow I doubt life was any less complicated back then, but that’s nostalgia for you.

Poor Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton) arrives in multi-occupied Vienna after being offered work by his friend, Harry Lime (Orson Welles). Martins soon discovers that Lime has been run over by the proverbial bus (lorry) and will not soon be delivering on any promised employment.

Moving right along, Martins discovers that Harry Lime was a black marketeer of the most nefarious type. Lime stole a shipment of penicillin and, after watering it down, sold it back to the medical community. Unfortunately the diluted penicillin is possibly worse than worthless and numerous children have allegedly either died or been crippled by Lime’s product.

Harry Lime is portrayed as the most despicable of human beings. A cretinous bug. But this was all back in the 1950s when things were simpler. Back then a scumbag was a scumbag, even if you couldn’t use the word scumbag in polite society.

Harry Lime, the lowest of the low, profiteer and thief.

But let’s hold on a second. That was how hateful Harry was perceived sixty years ago. Let’s have another look at Harry from today’s enlightened corporate perspective.

Was Harry ever convicted of a crime? Absolutely not. Allegations he had stolen penicillin were never proven. Innocent until proven guilty.

Did Harry Lime steal the drugs he was accused of reselling? Again, how Harry came into possession of his product has never been adjudicated.

What was Harry Lime's crime? Multiple jurisdictions, no conviction.

What crime? Harry Lime simply maximized profit with the product he had at hand.

Penicillin was a desirable commodity at that time in Vienna. Lime was in possession of a source for the drug and doctors and hospitals were willing to purchase this commodity at venues considered illegal. Certainly the medical community didn’t have to make these questionable purchases. These medical professionals chose to buy black market drugs. How could they imagine these illegal drugs would be of the same quality and potency as those obtained through legitimate channels? These medicines should have been tested for quality before they were used on unsuspecting children. Obviously, the medical profession was negligent.

So there you have it. Harry Lime wasn’t guilty of anything. All he did was profit on the ill health of those who could afford to pay for his watered down pharmaceuticals.

Today Harry Lime, profiteer and murderer, could easily become an executive for any of numerous Americhan health care providers or drug companies. The Third Man certainly knew how to turn the ill health of innocents into a commodity. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Harry Lime, corporate medicine at its finest!
-

originally published in 2010

There’s No Reason to Vote

2017-06-22T08:10:00.000-07:00

The vast majority of eligible voters didn’t vote for Trump. The vast majority of eligible voters didn’t vote for Clinton, either.

40% of possible voters said piss on all of them and sat on their hands.

Now that Hillary is history and the Chump is well on his way to impeachment or resignation, it looks like the citizens who didn’t cast a ballot for either of them are the real winners after all. Bye bye, major party candidates.

There are any number of reasons why eligible American voters don’t bother but there’s one de-motivator which doesn’t receive enough attention.

Way back when, Bill Clinton and his cronies decided on a strategy of shifting the Democratic Party just a little bit farther to the right in order to pick up a handful of Republicans who were turned off by the Bible thumpers and fellow travelers in their party. Who knows? Clinton’s scam might have been good politics for an enlightened Arkansas.

After Bubba defeated Bush the Elder (mostly thanks to a little guy by the name of H. Ross Perot who was also running and shattered the Republican vote), the Clinton brand of corporate liberal Republicanism (we want choice but won’t make it law) suddenly became enshrined by the leaders of the Democratic Party.

“We won! We won! Corporate Democrats are the way!”

Well, so far, not so good.

With the exception of Obama (Remember Romneycare?) the Democratic Party has been losing ground at a stunning rate since Clintonism (we’re just a little to the left of George Wallace) took control.

The Senate. Gone. The House. Gone. Governors. Gone. State Houses. History.

There have been so many Democratic losses as to make that party’s former power seem but a distant memory.

Here’s a test. Instead of pointing out the slight differences between the two major parties, think about how much their leaders currently have in common. Pro for-profit health insurance. Pro death penalty. Pro Middle East adventurism, and on and on. All financed by Goldman Sachs et al. How Republican of them both.

But, wait a second, it turns out that all of that is not what rank and file Democrats actually support. The majority of Dems want Medicare for All. Most of them, along with most states, could live without the death penalty. Middle Eastern war games? Not so much. And by all means, tax the living shit out of Goldman Sachs.

Real Democrats are so much farther to the left than the party’s Clintonite leadership that it’s almost no, not almost it’s really, really funny.

But, even in the face of so many losses, the Clintonistas still put the blame on others. They couldn’t possibly be wrong. After all, the corporations and the donors give them almost as much money as they give to the Republicans.

Another thought. Instead of constantly losing by chasing the three or four liberals who remain in the Republican Party (Republicans tend to vote for Republicans anyway, you blithering idiots), why not offer Americans a real choice?

Instead of veering right in hopes of luring that loose GOPer, try going the other way. 40% of eligible voters don’t vote. And that’s for Presidential tilts. Lesser elections, lesser percentages. There are more people not voting than voting for either party.

But the Democratic leadership ignores the forty percent and wrap themselves in Republican Lite robes in hopes of attracting more Wall Street moolah.

It isn’t working, morons.

How many former Democratic voters have stopped pulling the handle because they no longer see enough of a difference between the two parties for them to bother to vote?

Imagine if the Democratic Party actually offered a real choice rather than a faint Republican echo. Imagine if that non-voting 40% was actually presented with a stark difference. No longer Trump versus Trump-lite. No longer massive health insurance premiums versus 1% less massive health insurance premiums.

Imagine if the Democratic Party ran candidates who actually represented the views of actual Democrats. Maybe a small fraction of that 40% might be inspired enough to vacate their Barcaloungers. If Democrats could actually show that “they’re all the same” no longer applies, it might just motivate a few of the fallen. If Democrats could attract just a few of the non-voters, instead of chasing the white whale swing Republican, perhaps the losses might stop. Imagine if the Democrats could get a mere 2% out of that dormant 40 to pull the lever in their direction. Things might just become a whole lot different.

Bill Clinton is a most charming man, but he is an idiot. The Clintons and their ilk have just about destroyed the Democratic Party. It’s time for all of them to concede defeat and just go away.

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.

Beware of Pickpockets!

2017-03-05T15:28:00.003-08:00

“Welcome, welcome, you tremendous people! Thank you so much. You are about to witness the most magnificent show conceivable even in the most spectacular parts of your fabulous imaginations!” El Dunno, the world’s most famous organ grinder, reached into his inside pocket and took out a peanut for his monkey.

“Look! Watch his hands. Fascinating!”

While he cranked his organ, and did his spiel, the grinder’s impish primate took the goober from his master’s outstretched digits. He jumped upon his master’s shoulder then dismounted with a full somersault and twist. The chimp skipped into the center of the audience on the crowded sidewalk, doffed his fez, and approached each spectator, seeking donations.

“Isn’t he the cutest thing ever?” “I wish my kid was so talented.” “Do you think a dollar is too much?”

And so days passed. El Dunno, the most fabulously tremendous organ grinder ever to grace the Manhattan streets and his wonder chimp, El Manquee, would delight innocent tourists for up to twenty shows a day. What could be better than free, innocent entertainment? If you wanted to donate a buck or two, well, that was entirely up to you.

And so it went for eight years. Until they were replaced by a different grinder and monkey.

A few years later, on the occasion of his retirement from the rackets, Phil the Dip came clean about the whole El Dunno setup.

“You have no idea how hard it is to find a grinder who’s up to the part. You know, people think the act is the chimp, but it’s the grinder. All the time he’s cranking that organ and the monkey’s working the crowd, the grinder keeps the audience occupied with whatever nonsense pops into his noggin at the moment.

“When the chimp, El Manquee, is panhandling the tourists, El Dunno rambles on about how Santa Claus is an illegal alien. Or how every white boy in this country can grow up to be a billionaire. Or even, this is my favorite, how folks who have less than you are responsible for causing all of your problems. Including hemorrhoids or your daughter’s inability to date anyone other than a minority. The trick is to get the marks minds into a primitive haze where they are only vaguely paying attention to what’s going on around them.

“All the tourists would be lulled by El Manquee passing the fez and El Dunno chattering on and on about how life’s problems can be so simply solved.

“I ran a small crew back then.

“With so few people paying cash these days, folks tend to forget about pickpockets. Let me tell you, it’s not as easy now as it was when I started. Cash was king then, but if you know what you’re doing, you still can make a living.” Phil the Dip enjoyed talking about his former profession.

“Anyone who can create a distraction like El Dunno did is worth their weight in diamonds. I used two of my crew to fleece the crowd and a third for the drop. Tourists usually carry more cash than the average schmuck. People forget credit cards and cell phones bring a good price as well.

“The marks couldn’t take their eyes off of El Dunno and his monkey tricks. They didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention while we robbed them blind.

“I don’t know what El Dunno is doing these days. I know the monkey died. With a spiel like his, he might have gotten into politics.”

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Pro-Obamacare Demonstration Outside White House

2017-01-03T18:36:00.003-08:00

“This was today’s headline, ‘Healthcare Advocates Demonstrate Outside White House Demanding Obamacare Be Expanded.’ Following a protest outside the White House today, we had a chance to sit down with one of the organizers. This spokesperson agreed to our interview only under conditions of complete anonymity. We agreed to his request. Welcome.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“You are most certainly welcome. We just want to reassure you that our viewers will only be seeing a vague outline on their screens and your voice is being electronically altered so that it will be entirely unrecognizable.”

“I appreciate your efforts.”

“So, there were a few hundred representatives of your organization marching outside of the White House today. What message were they attempting to deliver to President Trump?”

“Well, Charlie, as I’m sure you know, the demonstration in Washington was all about Obamacare and why it should be kept in place. We’re hoping to convince President Trump and the rest of the Republicans just how much it would hurt the health insurance business if Obamacare were to be repealed.”

“But aren’t the insurance companies you represent complaining about how much money they’re losing? I mean every day we read about companies withdrawing from the exchanges? What about that?”

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, what business person in their right mind would ever say they’re making too much money? If you want to raise consumer prices, anyone savvy about business will always complain they’re not making enough money. I mean, come on, Charlie.”

“And the companies withdrawing from the health insurance exchanges?”

“There really isn’t any need for more than a single insurer to be on any individual exchange. When one organization withdraws from one market, you’ll see a complimentary withdrawal on a different exchange. Some might call this monopolistic; we prefer to call it efficient.”

“But why the need for this demonstration now?”

“Obamacare has a long history. Even when this program was first called Romneycare, Republicans have had to travel down a very narrow road. You have to realize, Charlie, that Obamacare is the largest raid on the U.S. Treasury ever made. When the Affordable Care Act was signed, the health insurance companies were basically given a blank check to charge as much as they wanted along with millions of new customers who were being forced to buy their product. As long as the consumer had no idea how much the Federal government was being charged, they really didn’t care what the costs were. As long as enough Republicans and Democrats were in our pockets, they didn’t care either. We’re probably talking trillions over the next decade.”

“But what about all those who couldn’t get insurance before Obamacare?”

“Charlie, that was the finest brand of snake oil ever sold. Even before Obamacare, everyone could buy health insurance. For a price. The price for those with situations like pre-existing conditions was exorbitant. Out of the reach of almost all individuals. All Obamacare did was shift that cost to the Federal government. The insurance was still out of control expensive but the consumer never saw the bill. Big checks were sent to the insurance companies along with millions of new customers. There were absolutely no cost controls. We were in pig heaven.”

“And now with Republicans threatening to repeal Obamacare?”

“Grass roots Republicans are demanding the repeal. It’s like a fever. It took a very long time to convince Democrats that Obamacare/Romneycare was actually a Democratic program. Unfortunately, along with that, a lot of Republicans seem to have forgotten that it’s actually a Republican program. Those folks were out there today to remind them.”

“And your prognosis for the future?”

“Charlie, the health insurance companies I represent are fairly certain Obamacare will remain. There’s far too much money being made for the entire program to disappear. We’ve just sent a few hundred of our interns out to the White House today to remind everyone who’s writing the checks.”

“So today was a gentle nudge?”

“Yes, indeed it was, Charlie. They can call it Obamacare. They can call it Romneycare. They can call it Trumpcare in big, gold letters. We don’t care as long as they don’t cutoff our pipeline to the Treasury. Wake up, Republicans. We’re the ones who send you all your money.”

“Well, that pretty much says it all. Thank you for being here. And thanks to all of you for watching. Goodnight.”

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Big Pharma Will Kick Donnie’s Wimpy Ass

2016-11-15T12:52:00.000-08:00

Jimmie the Jerk was having a hell of night the other day at P.J. Clarke’s barroom.

Now that the initial shock was over, it was time to find out exactly how small Donald Trump’s digits really are. At least according to J the J. The folks at the bar were listening.

“They’ve promised Donnie the Dim the reins of power. For this New York minute, he’s lost somewhere up in the clouds, but the first time he tries to dick in one of his big campaign promises, he’ll be smashed down to reality by the real BigBoys. We’ll show him just how powerless limp dicks like him really are. They’ll rub his nose in their shit and make wee Donnie smile and thank them for it.”

Jerry the Jerk is a vice-vice-president at a multi-global pharmaceutical monolith which currently charges America’s people one hundred times the price they charge citizens of other industrialized nations for the exact same scripts. These are the real drug pushers who control the street. J the J is one of the guys in charge of making sure chumps like Trump don’t rock the boat.

He explained to the room exactly how it would work.

“We’ll all go sit with him in some dumpy, second-rate D.C. conference room. He’ll do his song and dance about how we have to lower our prices for the good of the American people, and how he’ll conduct the negotiations. He’ll spit out almost sentences for fifteen minutes or less. We’ll nod, look serious, or smile, depending on whatever. Then he’ll leave. We’ll cut a couple of checks to Priebus and the other boys, and that will be that. And we’ll keep charging whatever the hell we feel like charging. Life or death, kids. Pay or die. We own this country.”

That sounded kind of harsh to a lot of the folks at the bar.

“We cut off the Trumpette’s balls years ago. You don’t get to operate the way little punks like Donnie do without our friends and investors controlling all the operating funds. Putzes like Chump and the gunsels that surround him lick our asses and drop their pants whenever we want them to.”

How do you do it? You can’t intimidate the President. The patrons needed to know.

You don’t call the President of the United States a punk.

“If a chump like Trump thinks he’s enough of a man to take on the drug companies, well, we’ll just have to show the whole world that the sign on his building shouldn’t read “Trump”. Change it to read, “He’s Our Bitch”. That would be a whole lot more of truth in advertising.”

Everybody drank.

“Little Donnie Boy isn’t going to tell Big Pharma where to get off. Trumpette will just keep being another punk in the prison shower room bending over to pick up the soap.

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Any Third Party Vote is a Vote for Hillary Clinton.

2016-09-20T14:58:00.000-07:00

Buddy boy, don’t you get it? This isn’t the year to cast a “protest” vote. If you don’t vote for Trump you’re really voting for Hillary.

Huh?

Listen, kid, you just don’t know how all this works, do you? I know you pretty much think neither Clinton2 nor the Trumpster should be controlling the White House joy stick. Am I right or am I right?

I guess so.

You don’t want to vote for someone who helped bomb the shit out of the Middle East or somebody who you don’t know if they’ll blow up the whole world either. The Big H has the track record as a killer and Trumpy only has the potential. Right?

Sure. But....

Listen, pally, is it the American way to convict somebody of a crime even before they commit it? Or do we only punish those who’ve already voted to kill hundreds of thousands of Iraqi women?

Well, so far Mr. Trump has only been stupid talk.

Exactamundo! Only ridiculous chatter. You know whatever he says is meaningless. You also know that he knows he’s bullshitting. It’s a game to him. On the other hand Clinton2 pretends it isn’t a game. He lies and winks. She lies and pretends it’s the Lord’s own truth.

I don’t know about that.

Of course you do, kiddo. You’re for Medicare for All, right? Well the Trumpster has been for that. At one time or another. The Hillary wants to keep that Obamacare farce going.

It’s not like he wants socialized medicine though.

You opposed the Iraq War, right? You know the Big Guy was at one time against it too. Clinton2 said she made a mistake. Maybe a couple of million died with the help of her vote and she says she made a mistake. Big whoop. Trumpy, he’s more flexible.

Well, that’s sort of true.

Kid, you know this isn’t an election where you can vote for a minority party. This might be the most critical election ever. You know you don’t want that Hillary in office.

She does support the death penalty when she feels like it. And she likes fracking too.

My brother, look at what they did to your Bernie.

You’re right about that. But the Republicans aren’t any better.

Now that even the Bush family is voting for Hillary Clinton, I mean, what more can I say? Do you support the whole Bush agenda? Don’t you think the first thing Clinton2 will do is give Jeb! a cabinet position? You don’t think Papa Bush said he was voting Democrat for the first time in his life without getting something in return? This is still politics, buddy boy. Imagine Jeb! as Secretary of State.

True. There must have been some sort of deal there.

Citizen, at least the Trumpster is straight about being corrupt.

That’s sort of the reason I’m thinking of voting for a third party candidate.

Patriotic American, wait until after the election and mobilize then. Trump can be reined in by a unified Democratic Congress. Remember the most important thing is to keep a war monger like Hillary Clinton out of the White House. It’s the known evil versus the unknown evil.

You’ve given me a lot to think about. Fortunately, there’s a little time left.

Pal of mine, just remember, any third party vote is a vote for Hillary Clinton to be the next President of these United States. And you know nobody wants that to happen.

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