Saturday, March 5, 2016

Random Barking: News With Cheese

Trumpo The Clown


They're coming after Trumpi.

You can smell the smoke from pine-pitch torches; you can hear the sound of the posse, the jingle of tack and spur and the whisper of rope as riders gather, out of sight, just off Main Street. And away in the distance, you can hear the faint taptap taptap of the carpenters as they build sections of The Scaffold.

People on Main Street are keeping watch from their windows. If you listen closely, there's the unmistakable rustle of popcorn bags (and they have the good popcorn too, with caramel and sea salt ), meaning whatever is about to happen is expected to be engrossing -- a Survivor / The Apprentice fusion. Or, so they think.

Clouds are heavy in the Western sky. The sound of keening, growling, slobbering and splashing from Feral Kochs, the Addled Sheldon, the Little Rupert (Now In Heat!), and the squirming GOP Priebusfish is heard in the land. You smell something in the air -- and it's the odor of an auto da-fe.

We have public burnings in America every day; just cruise the Intertubes and ZuckerBook and Tweety. But we haven't had a good, political death-of-a-thousand-cuts since 1998, when they strung up Saintly Billy -- but only halfway. Rethugs, from their perch on the Moral High Ground, put The Hurt on him: Impeachment. And Monica.

There was the good popcorn, speechifying, and that image of Little Chelsea bravely saluting her father's cigar humidor as it was ceremonially wheeled out of the White Haus. Billy was allowed, bloodied but still in one piece, to walk away from his auto da-fe with a limp forever more. Or, so they thought.

Now, Trumpo's the target... except, it isn't only Rethugs who are coming after him. It's a section of the actual power structure of America -- and no one does an auto da-fe quite as well as the The Owners of our Great Nation. They see Trumpo as a drunken party-crasher, spoiling their mood, with the potential to upset the balance of a system which, ultimately, is for Their benefit.

You've seen Rules Of The Game , The Draftsman's Contract (if not, you should). The actual PTB, the top one-hundreth of one per cent, will do whatever they fucking well please to protect their interests. For them, the only rule is, Because I wish it. And it won't matter how big his hands, or any other parts of his anatomy, are. The irony is, Trumpo is one of their class -- a billionaire, an Owner, himself. S'all In The Game, Yo.

But too, also, the GOP Powerbars cannot allow Hillary The Inevitable ! to win in November -- because, they think, if Saintly Billy's wife becomes Leader, with scarred and oily Billy re-entering The White House in her wake ... there would (as that alien said in "Galaxy Quest") be blood, and pain, the likes of which you cannot imagine!! It's all too horrible for the Rethugs to contemplate.

But. Trumpi could surprise. He could become Leader -- the outward personification of an America where we are judged by our class and net worth, and not by the content of our character.
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MEHR, MIT  "WE HAVE REACHED THE TRUMP = HITLER MOMENT" :  

Someone had to go there first; turns out it's the President Of Mexico (via Reuters):  "Mexico's president has said his country will not pay for White House hopeful Donald Trump's proposed wall along the U.S.-Mexico border, and likened his "strident tone" to the ascent of dictators like Adolf Hitler". 
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Shrimp And Brie Nachos  
 


>> 6 ounces Brie cheese, cut into about thirty small pieces
>> 2 tablespoons olive oil
>> 2 garlic cloves, finely minced or garlic-pressed
>> 1 teaspoon paprika
>> 1 pound shrimp (~30), peeled, de-veined and tails removed
>> ¼ cup chopped red and green pepper

Place tortilla chips on a serving dish. Top with small pieces of brie cheese and set aside.  Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat for 1 to 2 minutes.

Add the garlic and saute for 1 to 2 minutes until soft but not brown. Stir in paprika. Lower heat and add shrimp. Saute shrimp for 3 to 4 minutes, or until pink.

Remove from heat. Place 1 shrimp on cheese 'n chip. Garnish with chopped red and green pepper and serve. 
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OhJay 


Runner-Up Winner, Tor Johnson Look-Alike Contest

Years ago, a springblade knife was found on O.J. Simpson's property in the Los Angeles suburb of Brentwood. If you were a sentient human in America in the early 1990's, you saw photos of Simpson's home, where he lived with his wife, Nicole Brown, before she separated from him.

As we all know, she was murdered by a psychotic killer wielding a knife, in a manner so brutal that (as the autopsy report noted) Brown had effectively been decapitated. Her friend, Ronald Goldman, was also brutally killed in the same manner.

The murder weapon was never found -- but after Simpson's acquittal on First-Degree Murder charges (and no, he cannot be tried again for that crime; more's the pity), a construction worker on Simpson's property found the knife and turned it over to an LAPD officer. The officer apparently held on to it for years without informing his superiors or the Detective division in Hollywood.  The LAPD admitted it now has the knife, but will not provide details about who had it or for how long, because it is embarrassing.

Simpson is in prison now in Nevada, convicted in 2008 on armed robbery and kidnapping charges, sentenced to 33 years, with a nine-year minimum. He is eligible for parole in 2017 (Oddly enough, one of Little Rupert's fishwraps, the New York Post, reported in October 2012 that Simpson had attempted to sell a knife to an unnamed buyer for $5 million US -- apparently the buyer believed it was the never-found murder weapon. Simpson had reportedly lowered his asking price for that item, leading the Post to choose the headline, "O.J.... Slashes Price").

This knife has been referred for laboratory analysis -- but even if a DNA report showed Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman's blood and hair were all over the weapon, it would only put a line under what is commonly assumed may be true -- that Herr Simpson is a brutal, psychotic killer who (except for the best legal team money could buy) should have already been sentenced to Death Row or prison for life in California.

Auf nicht wiedersehen, OJ, you murderous nutter.
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Is This The Best Cheese In The World?
From Britain, Where Cheese Is Desert

 The Telegraph.uk provides a look into the judging of cheeses. "It was like the Eurovision Song contest," the Telegraph told us, "but with less singing. And more cheese."

And the winner?  Le Gruyère AOP Premier Cru, Cremo SA - Muhlenen, Switzerland.
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Little Rupert Weds Model: His Lub Has Come Along

Little Rupert: Happy At Last, For The Moment

Little Rupert Murdoch, Oligarch and The Joey Goebbels-Wannabe, married a former model and jet-set fixture from the mutant zone Texas. It's Rupert's fourth marriage, and Jerry Hall's first (after a Caribbean wedding to Mick Jagger in the 90's was deemed to have no legal standing).  He is Old; she's 59, maybe.

But, "why shouldn't he be happy??" The fourth (and probably final) Mrs. Murdoch certainly looks ecstatic -- why not? Even with the inevitable Prenup, she's hit the Jackpot; it's The Gravy Train for her for the rest of her days.

Have fun, you two.  Meanwhile, Lil' Rupert's media still pumps sewage into the world, day in and day out, 24-7.
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