OK, we all know men are horrible disgusting bastards. That’s a given, and if you want a better government, you need to elect more brave women who will put country before party and never sell out to K-Street lobbyists. So I’d just like to give a shout out to these brave Republican women:
Shelley Moore Capito – West Virginia
Joni Ernst – Iowa
Lisa Murkowski – Alaska
Susan Collins – Maine
Deb Fischer – Nebraska
There are only five of you, but at least we know we can count on you when push comes to shove. I look forward to the day when there are at least 25 Republican women senators to throw working people under the bus. Heck, there may even be a future Republican Senator amongst the unborn that this tax bill declares a
…child in utero, and the term child in utero means a member of the species homo sapiens, at any stage of development, who is carried in the womb.
Hey, what could go wrong with that (I’m actually kind of surprised there wasn’t a Republican Party revolt over the use of the word “homo,” so kudos to them for slipping that one in there)? Especially when weighed against issues that are truly important to women, like drilling in ANWR, increasing depreciation limits on luxury vehicles, private school deductions, and private jet write-offs. I mean, the ever-heroic Susan Collins even got “assurances” that they won’t be cutting Medicare so that’s, like, great.
Now, I’ve seen a lot of anger, hand-wringing, and righteous indignation over this bill and a process that codifies into law a tax structure that will be with us probably for the rest of my life without it having actually been completely written (never mind read – except by the lobbyists that wrote it, of course) and which increases the national debt by, what a trillion or a trillion and a half dollars? Whatever. Not a big deal – I’m pretty sure working folks and those of us who thought we’d be able to retire before we die can pick up the slack here.
I even saw one Democrat quoting Bernie Sanders’ take on this bill, which I thought was odd because if I’ve learned anything from Twitter, it’s that Bernie is “not a Democrat” and should shut the fuck up. Thank goodness we dodged that bullet.
Now, I know, this whole process is dominated by men, and they’re the ones to blame for all this. But we’ve already stipulated to the fact that all men suck, so we’re not surprised by what they do anymore (except maybe for jerking off into a potted plant, which I must confess surprises – actually bewilders – even me, and I used to be a projectionist a porn theatre, so I’ve seen some pretty nasty shit – which of course refers to German porn. I don’t know what it is with those people). But I thought perhaps a couple of these women (and that’s all it would’ve taken) could be held to at least as “high” a standard as Bob Corker, who was the only Republican to vote no on this shit.
Guess not.
You have to hand it to the Republicans, though. They managed to use the cover of a late Friday night development combined with the distraction of the Flynn guilty plea to gloss over this whole thing. Pretty nifty move – while Democrats (or Progressives or Liberals or maybe just rational human beings) were all agog over Flynn’s apparent “flip” (that will probably, at best, lead to a few Presidential pardons – if you think there’s anything than can get Trump impeached and removed from office, you’re nuts. It’s a political process, and if you think Collins, Murkowski, McCain – assuming he’s still alive – or any of these other tough-talking Senate “mavericks” will do anything other than toe the party line, then you’re in for yet another disappointment, though articles of impeachment won’t actually ever make it out of the House so no need to worry about that anyway), they rammed this through. And everybody gets paid.
Well, not everybody. Just the people who already have everything – but still need more, more, more – in the first place.
But, hey, maybe I’m just grumpy. A while back, I was forced to endure yet another birthday. Not that there was much to endure, of course. It barely gets a mention, which is fine by my. The last birthday that actually meant something to me was my 18th, when I finally became eligible to drink, vote, and register for the draft. And I was living in Buffalo at the time, where the bars were open until 4:00 (signalling the beginning of the end of my first college career and any promise I once might have shown of being a productive human being – not to perpetuate the stereotype, but it’s a lot like the old joke about God inventing whiskey to keep the Irish from ruling the world).
Turning 30 was kind of interesting, I guess. It was a number I wasn’t convinced I’d ever reach but other than that it didn’t mean much to me (was I supposed to feel old? God, I was still a kid – if only I could be 30 again, only not quite so stupid). Even 50 didn’t have an effect on me one way or another. Mostly, birthdays leave me feeling bemused and apathetic. Apathetic, because I really don’t care, and bemused because, holy shit, has that much time really passed?
This year, though, for some reason my birthday pissed me off. And it wasn’t even any kind of a milestone year. Maybe it’s because my shit seems to hurt all the time (used to be different shit would hurt, but now it seems like all my shit hurts all the time – though sometimes some shit hurts more than others). Maybe it’s because I haven’t had a beer in, like, a year and a half. Or food (good food – and by “good” I of course mean “bad”). Or maybe it’s the current state of affairs in this country (and the world), or the growing realization that even though I’m old it’s starting to look like I won’t be able to retire (depending on what these bastards do to Social Security). Maybe it’s because SU football sucks (though that’s nothing new), or maybe it’s just that after a really shitty summer, I face the prospect of another goddamn winter (and I live way too close to The Wall). And Standard Time SUCKS!
I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s making me feel old and tired and just plain pissed off in general.
Which is odd, because I normally have such a sunny disposition.