Bye, Bye Bachmann Goodbye–Bye, Bye Bachmann Don’t Cry

It can’t be true. Michele Bachmann will not be seeking reelection as the senator from Minnesota. Hopefully she will become a FOX News “expert contributor and analyst.” We can’t loose her yet–we’re not done laughing at her. So here are a dozen of our favorite verbal spewings from the inimitable Michele:

Note how Bachmann’s mind (or lack thereof) connects dots that aren’t there when she slammed Elton John: “Normalization homosexuality through desensitization. Very effective way to do this with a bunch of second graders is take a picture of The Lion King for instance, and a teacher might say, ‘Do you know that the music for this movie was written by a gay man?’ The message is: ‘I’m better at what I do, because I’m gay.'” Well said, Michele, gay people are extremely good at creative pursuits.

Drink-in her grasp of science and the environment: “Carbon dioxide, Mr. speaker, is a natural byproduct of nature. Carbon dioxide is natural. It occurs in Earth… Carbon dioxide is portrayed as harmful, but there isn’t even one study that can be produced that shows that carbon dioxide is a harmful gas.” Not so quick, Michele–it’s a deadly poison that causes greenhouse gases.

Take note of how skillfully she evoked local celebrities to connect with the people: “Well what I want them to know is just like John Wayne was from Waterloo, Iowa. That’s the kind of spirit that I have, too.” – Spoken in the hometown of children’s party clown and serial killer of young boys, John Wayne Gacy.

Never one to pass up an illogical connection, Bachmann even thought disease could be blamed on liberal politicians: “I find it interesting that it was back in the 1970s that the swine flu broke out then under another Democrat president Jimmy Carter. And I’m not blaming this on President Obama, I just think it’s an interesting coincidence.” Ahh, Michele, no one else other than she could damn so skillfully with feint praise.

While campaigning in New Hampshire, Michele said: What I love about New Hampshire and what we have in common is our extreme love of liberty…You’re the state where the shot heard round the world in Lexington and Concord.” Lovely, except that “the shot heard round the world” was in Massachuttes.

“There are hundreds and hundreds of scientists, many of them holding Nobel Prizes, who believe in intelligent design.” OK, Michele, this one’s on you: Name one….  Unable to do so, she continued: “The big thing we are working on now is the global warming hoax. It’s all voodoo, nonsense, hokum, a hoax.”

Proving that Sen. Bachmann was not a racist but was also hip to the jive, she is quoted as saying to first black RNC National Committee Chairman: “Michael Steele! You be da man!” Well that did wonders to smooth over countless decades of racial marginalization. The black man with whom she is pictured is not Michael Steele, but don’t tell Michele–she won’t know the difference.

Never at a loss for material, Ms. Bachmann, merely made things up out of whole cloth: “The President of the United States will be taking a trip over to India that is expected to cost the taxpayers $200 million dollars a day.” Not quite. The War in Afghanistan costs about $200 million a day. She knew she heard the figure somewhere so just why not pull it out of her ass as a factoid?

Since Michele’s girlish husband, Marcus, makes is living confusing conflicted gay people into trying to pretend they’re straight, Michele used her political celebrity to drum up a little business. “This is an earthquake issue. This will change our state forever. Because the immediate consequence, if gay marriage goes through, is that K-12 little children will be forced to learn that homosexuality is normal, natural and perhaps they should try it.” Actually Michele, most children do sexually experiment without any “prodding” from outside influences.

Her economic acumen was exceeded only by her compassion for the common working man and woman: “If we took away the minimum wage–if conceivably it was gone–we could potentially virtually wipe out unemployment completely because we would be able to offer jobs at whatever level.”

After visiting Iraq she shared her experience in a way that everyday Americans could understand: “There’s a commonality with the Mall of America, in that it’s on that proportion. There’s marble everywhere. The other thing I remarked about was there is water everywhere.” (And not a drop to drink–we need one after that comment.)

And our final closing quote from Senator Bachmann: “Before we get started, let’s all say ‘Happy Birthday’ to Elvis Presley today.” – Aug. 16, 2011 (on the day Elvis died.)

Goodbye Bachmann, goodbye. Goodbye Bachmann don’t cry. We’ll miss you–but probably not for long. A media whore like you could never stop making a fool of herself on a grand scale. There’s money to be made in the trade of conservative idiocy, so rather than saying “farewell” – Let’s just leave it at “until we laugh again.”

– Disassociated Press, 5/30/2013

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My book, An Early Work Late in Lifeis available through PixelPreserve for $29.95plus shipping and handling at:

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Shameless Plug for a friend’s online game: GuessThisPic.

And now for a shameless, self aggrandizing plug for my own art and my friend Michael’s new online game called ‘GuessThisPic’ There are various advertisers, and if you can guess the puzzle picture, you win an antique-style one-of-a-kind portrait Like the one picture to the left. It can be of you or a friend, and  painted by none other than ME. Be sure to scroll down on the right hand side and see the video and the other images of my paintings:

To the left is a sample image of the kind of picture you need to decipher in order to win a prize. There are other puzzles and other prizes from different stores, vendors and services. The one I’m promoting just happens to feature my own artwork.

Dying of a Malaise of Minor Ailments

Dying of a Malaise of Minor Ailments

by Beihl

When you’re dying of a Malaise of Minor Ailments, the first letters must be capitalized. It’s easy when distracted, to allow small, but transformative moments to slip by unnoticed.

I can recall three I could easily have missed:

When I was in my middle thirties helping a friend move into a new apartment, I felt lithe and capable. I lifted a box over my head and stopped for a moment to appreciate how easily my body moved and how I strong I felt.

Another time I was crossing Eleventh Street when I heard a melody playing other than the one in my head, when it occurred to me how lucky I was to have a second chance at love—even though the memory-of, long outlasted the love.

Tonight I was walking my dog, fixating on a pain in my hip, thinking: “if something still hurts I’m alive,” when I was stopped—by a young woman accommodating a limp she had known since birth. She asked me for permission to pet my dog and found great joy in that simple act: When it hit me how fortunate I am to have known life, love and pain.

I’ve missed nothing.

If I’m lucky it’ll all be easy downhill sailing from here. Maybe I should go to the gym… fight it–get a tummy-tuck–or take a nap… perhaps some gingerale would settle my stomach… You’ll never get me to do crossword puzzles or learn to play bridge…

I just don’t have the strength or the focus…

At least I’m not discussing my bowels…

Or the dog’s…

We’re all dying of a malaise of minor ailments…

…lower case.

Disassociated Press, 5/28/13

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My book, An Early Work Late in Life is available through PixelPreserve for $29.95 plus shipping and handling at:

A book signing is scheduled for Saturday, June 1st at 5:30pm at Giovanni’s Room, 345 South 12th Street, Philadelphia, PA.


Mato and the Soldier

Friends of mine who used to live here in Philadelphia were walking their dog, Mato, a enormous but gentle 110 pound mutt, one evening near the Constitution Center that flanks the north end of Independence Mall. It’s a very pretty National Park, well maintained, and the country’s treasures are guarded 24 hours a day. There are guards stationed near the Liberty Bell, and others patrolling Independence Hall. But the interior of the park where the park benches are located has become an open-air bedroom for the city’s homeless suffering from an economy that’s relentlessly slow to turn around.

During their walk the naturally jubilant Mato, got loose and gave my friends chase through the vast open field in Independence Mall. While the park itself is an expansive area, it’s surrounded by heavily trafficked city streets on all four sides. The thought of loosing their dog or seeing him hit was a terrible prospect—when a derelict stepped-in from out of nowhere and coaxed the dog over to him so he could grab Mato by the collar to return him.

My friends were very grateful and thanked the man profusely. But no “wise” city-dweller ever leaves the house at night with any money in their pockets. All they could do was say “thank you” to the poor fellow for his kindness and quick thinking.

On the way home, this lack of any having any substantial way of showing their gratitude troubled them. They came up with the idea to go back to the park and bring the man some money and an old coat that was no longer being worn—but looked as if it might fit him.

They returned to the bench where their dog’s savior had staked-out a sleeping bench for the evening, and found him laying awake. They thanked him by handing him their gift and a conversation ensued. They were surprised to learn how articulate he was. They spoke with him at great length, learning he was a veteran of the Gulf War, but not mentioning which one in which he’d served. It was difficult to determine his age in the dim evening light. He told them he lives outdoors as a matter of choice. He was surrounded by other vets—all asleep on surrounding benches. As he spoke with my friends, he sat and stared-off at Independence Hall all lighted-up against the evening sky. He told them he gets a veteran’s pension check, which he mostly deposits into an account for a new government subsidized independent living facility for war veterans. But they’ve not yet broken ground. He gives them his money to pay-it-forward so that he might have a place to live someday.

Instead of keeping the coat they brought him, he draped it over another homeless veteran, fast asleep, who he felt needed it more. He refused the five dollar bill they’d brought him, but he told them he shares some of his remaining money with other vets he considers to be in greater need.

My friends asked the ‘veteran-come-derelict’ about the difficulties he faced living out in the weather. He told them it was nothing after surviving outdoors in Iraq. He would be OK, he could take care of himself, saying “When you face certain death everyday in the Gulf, you learn not to be scared, but to embrace, enjoy and celebrate every moment.” Further stating, “There is no better backyard than the place where our country was founded”.

My friends went home humbled to the warmth of their apartment where they struggle day to day with typical money troubles, same as the rest of us. And in doing so, thanked the fates for allowing them to be so fortunate in life as to be burdened only with life’s small challenges—glowing—not only in the knowledge they’d done what was right, but also mulling-over the lessons imparted by that soldier. They were left however, with one very large looming question: how can THIS be the way our nation rewards the men and women who serve our country?

– 5/25/13 – Excerpted. Originally posted on October 7th, 2010.

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My book, An Early Work Late in Life is available through PixelPreserve for $29.95 plus shipping and handling at:

A book signing is scheduled for Saturday, June 1st at 5:30pm at Giovanni’s Room, 345 South 12th Street, Philadelphia, PA.

In Our Current Political Climate

Sen. Coburn, R-OK

Both Oklahoma Senators, James Inhofe and Tom Coburn voted in January against funding the FEMA disaster relief funding for the victims of Hurricane Sandy which ripped apart coastal New York and New Jersey. They called the bill a “slush fund” and opposed infrastructure spending for projects which would help strengthen the coastline construction against future hurricanes–further stating that the bill wasn’t offset by budget savings elsewhere. It wasn’t about people for Coburn and Inhofe–it was about money.

Sen. Inhofe – R-OK

Flash forward, and in blows the monster tornado that ripped apart Moore, Oklahoma this past Monday killing more than twenty people with 200 mile an hour winds. Speaking of wind, Coburn then announced “As a ranking member of the Senate committee that oversees FEMA, I can assure Oklahomans that any and all available aid will be delivered without delay”. Inhofe parroted Coburn swearing there’d be no “pork” like what he alleged took place in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. Preparedness be damned. Oklahoma has very little in place to help residents build or acquire tornado-proof safe-rooms in the homes, schools and public buildings. But what do you want to bet that preventative measures and new safety construction proposals are made by the two senators from Oklahoma? You can count on it. It might even be a good idea–like hurricane-proof construction along the eastern seaboard or earthquake safe buildings on the west coast.

Inhofe and Coburn are a pair of ideological idiots who only care about their own constituents largely so they can keep their cushy part-time jobs as United States senators–each working about 126 days out of the year. When disaster strikes hard working people who live by coastal areas, these two think it’s the resident’s faults for choosing an unstable place to call home. When it happens in cyclone-prone places like Hurricane Alley–the path of which leads right down the middle of Oklahoma, no such charges of bad-land homestead choices are “leveled” (so to speak). There is a double standard when it comes to red or blue states as if one is more worthy than the other.

In truth, the northern states pay far more into disaster relief funding than less densely populated states who have a long history of being in the paths of tornadoes–and being prone to droughts. States like New York and New Jersey rarely need to tap into the FEMA funding. It’s as if the people of the disaster-prone southwest are somehow “godlier” and therefore more deserving of help and mercy than the more sophisticated “pagan” northeastern states.

Inhofe and Coburn have hornswoggled their gullible constituents to vote them into office largely because Oklahoma is a red state that leans toward believing Rush Limbaugh is a thinking man–and in spite of their not becoming a state until 1912, somehow feel the Confederacy will rise again.

But when all is said and done, the people of Oklahoma are every bit as deserving of federal assistance in their time of need as are the people of the northeastern shores of America, where neighborhoods and homes are as uninhabitable as they were the day after Hurricane Sandy. Human compassion and the need for federal assistance shouldn’t be a political football–it should be a matter of common decency. Decency however, isn’t what snake-oil salesmen like Coburn and Inhofe are selling. Those two are looking after their own asses, and that’s the business they’re in.

– Disassociated Press, 5/22/13

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My book, An Early Work Late in Life is available through PixelPreserve for $29.95 plus shipping and handling at:

A book signing is scheduled for Saturday, June 1st at 5:30pm at Giovanni’s Room, 345 South 12th Street, Philadelphia, PA.


Pennsylvanians–Election Day, May 21st. Show-up and Vote.

WinnieToons is again delaying our shenanigans as Beihl and Winnie will be working the polling station in our voting district here In Philadelphia. We promise we’ll have something rude to say about someone the very moment we find the time.

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My book, An Early Work Late in Life is available through PixelPreserve for $29.95 plus shipping and handling at:

A book signing is scheduled for Saturday, June 1st at 5:30pm at Giovanni’s Room, 345 South 12th Street, Philadelphia, PA.

WinnieToons Is Going to Take a Few Days Off

WinnieToons is going to take a few days off while Beihl focuses on promoting his new book, An Early Work Late in Life – The Art and Life of Danny Allen. I will be giving a book reading at the Memorial Art Gallery of the University of Rochester in (obviously) Rochester, New York.

Please feel free to peruse our other rants and diatribes–and even send us notes about subjects you’d like to see covered. I’m sure we’ll be outraged by something or other and off on a tear in no time.

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My book, An Early Work Late in Life is available through PixelPreserve for $29.95 plus shipping and handling at:

Book signings are scheduled for 5:30pm on Thursday, May 16th at the Rochester Memorial Art Gallery, 500 University Avenue, Rochester, NY. And for Saturday, June 1st at 5:30pm at Giovanni’s Room, 345 South 12th Street, Philadelphia, PA.

“The Story of How I Got My Very Own Bedroom” A Mother’s Day Tribute

My favorite picture of my late mother, Grandma Betty with Winifred P. Jumpingbean.

My Grandma Nanny.

When I was a little boy back in the 1950s and early 60s, I already knew I that craved my own bedroom where I could think, dream and keep my own council uninterrupted. Even though there were three bedrooms in our new “L” shaped rancher on a lake lot, my brother and I had to share a bedroom because our grandmother was living with us.

My grandmother, Nanny, was a sweet and proper little Quaker lady born in the 1880s and left slightly vacant by a series of mini-strokes. She was mostly living in the present with the occasional lapse into the past. She often thought that I was her long dead son, and second born child, Earl, who had died of tuberculosis in the 1920s.

Earl, like myself was artistic, had red hair and built doll furniture made out of cigar boxes—not so different from the kinds of things that I’m inclined to do, which makes one wonder about bloodlines….

My mother (Grandma Betty) as a young woman.

I loved to sit and brush Nanny’s shoulder length white hair and apply make-up to her crepe d’sheen face. She’d sit there patiently while I’d paint her up like a circus pony. My mother would frequently break-up these fashion-styling sessions, flying in armed with cleansing cream and ordering me outside to play “at ONCE…!!!” My mother, Betty, would rub my poor grandmother’s features half-off the woman’s face while muttering to herself “hold still Mother, we don’t want the neighbors thinking we’re running a home for retired tarts…”

There weren’t many kids to play with in the new “faux-colonialized development” we’d just moved into in the newly suburbanized sprawl of what had once been New Jersey’s finest farmland. Most of the houses were still being built. When springtime came the neighborhood was full of construction noise and huge piles of dirt, lumber and bricks. I was fascinated watching the balloon frames springing up all around us. By summer the place was crawling with shirtless college boys working summer jobs for the construction company while they worked far more diligently on their tans.

The Quaker Pennsylvania field stone farmhouse dollhouse I built for Grandma Betty. (against a painted backdrop and leaves in the foreground.

I took to building balloon frame houses out of balsa wood and moving around dirt with Tonka trucks carefully positioning myself to get the maximum view of the bumper crop of college Phys Ed majors while not completely understanding why. “Gay” starts young. But in all fairness, so does “straight.” At least I was doing something more “constructive” than painting-up my grandmother to look like a drag queen.

Our new home brought with it an entirely new set of standards and values that I hadn’t noticed while we were living in our old Victorian double house on the shabbier side of town. Suddenly my father was considered by his boss to be a ‘man on the move’. Dad worked as some sort of regional manager selling sprockets and chains to large manufacturing concerns up and down the Eastern Seaboard. It meant that my father wasn’t home sometimes for a week or two at a time. However when he was home, he really wasn’t, because he was on the golf course. My mother had to eventually take up the game in order to have a conversation with him. Dad never got over the fact that my mother accidentally got a hole-in-one well before he ever achieved the same. At least my mother claimed it was an “accident” so my father would feel better about her successful mastery of the game.

My parents were on a well-intended but ultimately fruitless quest to climb the social ladder and grab the brass ring known as “The American Dream.” This “quest” meant there were a lot of social events like covered dish suppers—bridge or poker games and evenings out with business clients.

While mom and dad became more social, Nanny would babysit me even though other kids my age were often trusted to be left alone—but I was considered to be too “full of mischief” to be left on my own—besides, Nanny was already there with nothing better to do. She was getting a bit vacant and burning things on the stove, so really I was babysitting Nanny as much as she was babysitting me. Secretly my parents despaired at the thought of what they’d come home to find—frightened as to what our grandmother would look like if the two of us were left together unsupervised—but you can’t get a babysitter to take care of an old lady AND an ornery little gay boy.

“The Glass Eye” Alfred Hitchcock Presents – 1957.

Nanny and I would cling to each other in sheer terror watching Alfred Hitchock Presents screaming at the top of our lungs at the episode where the ventriloquist turned out to be the dummy and the dummy turned out to be the ventriloquist. I suppose it was even more frightening due to the way I’d applied Nanny’s make-up—which I always recall when I see stills of Bette Davis playing Baby Jane Hudson.

As much as I liked hanging out with my grandma Nanny, I still wanted my own room. But getting my own room came at a pretty high price. Nanny suffered another series of strokes. My mother, Betty, tried valiantly to take care of Nanny, but my brother was a typical teenager and I was a pubescent pre-teen, and both of us were completely useless creatures. My father was never home due to business, and my mother found herself alone—often in tears while trying to lift my grandmother off of a bedpan or wash her. She was dispirited from trying to cope with the heartbreak of watching her cherished little Quaker mother fade away. And so a tearful decision was made that Nanny would have to go to a nursing home after my mother threw her back out, and could no longer do the lifting required while caring for a failing senior. A number of my aunts and uncles harshly criticized my mother for this decision—that said; you didn’t hear any of them stepping forward and volunteering to take Nanny into their own homes.

Instead, Nanny was installed in a nearby nursing home. She had only the dimmest idea what was going on around her. She shared a room with a little pistol of a woman named Lucy. Lucy would make faces at my mother and flirt unmercifully with my father. She reportedly told my mother, “Watch yourself sister, I could go for a man like that.” My father had Cary Grant-like good looks, which weren’t lost for a moment on Lucy. She must have raised hell in her day.

My grandmother was frequently agitated due to Lucy’s carrying on. Nanny gasped through her tears, “after years of living a good, God-fearing life my own daughter has sold me into white slavery at a whorehouse.” Lucy had told her it was true. “Just look around me,” my grandmother said, “there’s nothing but women and beds. What kind of place is this…?” Nanny wept. “Its that little boy’s fault—the one that kept putting make up on me…”

Nanny, we’re told, slipped away quietly in her sleep one evening. And that was the price I paid for getting my own room.

Happy Mother’s Day Grandma Nanny and Grandma Betty—wherever you are—you might have felt unappreciated at the time, but for whatever it’s worth, not in hindsight.

– Amended chapter from my book (in progress) – The Planet Is Bipolar.

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My book, An Early Work Late in Life is available through PixelPreserve for $29.95 plus shipping and handling at:

Book signings are scheduled for 5:30pm on Thursday, May 16th at the Rochester Memorial Art Gallery, 500 University Avenue, Rochester, NY. And for Saturday, June 1st at 5:30pm at Giovanni’s Room, 345 South 12th Street, Philadelphia, PA.


Time Has Come for the 113th Congress to Get “Buffeted”

Sanford’s idea isn’t even remotely original–this is a photo of the Romney Campaign using a Nancy Pelosi cardboard cut-out along with some dufus wearing a Newt Gingrich mask.

Now that the voters of South Carolina’s 1st Congressional District have proven themselves dumb and gullible enough to vote a proven philandering sociopath to represent them in the House of Representatives, it’s time to take a good long look at the entire clown car of lunatics and congenital idiots elected in both houses of Congress from all political parties, and re-circulate the now legendary Warren Buffett email known as the Congressional Reform Act which has been independently circulated ever since 2011. It is indeed time for Congress to get “buffeted”–as in smacked upside the head. We elect our members of Congress to represent OUR interests, but it’s abundantly clear they’re all in it for their own gain. That has got to change.

Yes, I know this epistle has been kicking around for quite a while, but that doesn’t make it an any less valid series of ideas. This is Warren Buffet’s solution (as a successful and esteemed businessman) for fixing Congress. And according to ‘Snopes’ it was indeed written by him. More importantly it’s one idea that really needs be seriously considered, so pass it along. Copy and paste it into an email–or post it on your Facebook page. This is about fairness, equality and common sense–a concept completely lost on the 113th Congress of the United States.

The Congressional Reform Act of 2013

1. No Tenure / No Pension. A Congressman/woman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they’re out of office.

2. Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security. All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people. It may not be used for any other purpose.

3. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans do.

4. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise. Congressional pay will rise by the lower of CPI or 3%.

5. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people.

6. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people.

7. All contracts with past and present Congressmen & women are void effective 12/31/13. The American people did not make this contract with Congressmen & women. Congressmen & women made all these contracts for themselves. Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work.

Now write, email or call you Congressional representatives and let them know how you feel. In fact if anyone knows how to get this placed on a future ballot for national referendum–go for it.

– Disassociated Press, 5/9/2013

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My book, An Early Work Late in Life is available through PixelPreserve for $29.95 plus shipping and handling at:

Book signings are scheduled for 5:30pm on Thursday, May 16th at the Rochester Memorial Art Gallery, 500 University Avenue, Rochester, NY. And for Saturday, June 1st at 5:30pm at Giovanni’s Room, 345 South 12th Street, Philadelphia, PA.

The Hand Puppets of the NRA

This week in Houston, the National Rifle Association called its members to arms, asking them to be ready to do battle in a shoot out to protect the rights of insane people to snuff out productive citizens. Think of it this way: You have to be at least “this tall” to go on the rides at the amusement parks, and you’ve to be at least “that stupid” to be a member of the NRA. And if you’re dumb as an amoeba, you get to be a guest speaker.

“We are in the midst of a once-in-a-generation fight for everything we care about,” NRA dimwit in Chief, Wayne Lapierre said as has coined this year’s motto as “Stand and Fight.” Going on to say “guns are “everything we care about.” Spoken proof that the man is of limited scope at best. He doesn’t care about the 3,820 people killed by way of gun violence (and counting) since the Newtown Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre. It’s about priorities.

Only in America–sadly.


It’s also important to remember that Wayne Lapierre isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer nor is he likely the sharpest shooter—but since we live in an age when you can spray hundreds of rounds of ammo into theaters, crowds of bystanders and kindergarten classrooms–accuracy is a moot point.

Children getting the feel of holding a gun.

When last month’s background checks legislation ”targeting” gun show loopholes and Internet sales failed to get the unreachable 60% majority in the Senate (as was financially incentivized to fail courtesy of the NRA) Democrats couldn’t get the necessary compromise proposal passed. It’s important to point out that the basest of the conservative base who oppose gun control also oppose abortion. They don’t oppose gunning down abortion providers or for that matter, first graders—but in their mythological world, guns don’t kill people—people kill people. The fact that those same people so frequently use guns to kill people is apparently a total disconnect. But the average neocon appears blithely unwilling to pursue humane methods of curbing the planet’s burgeoning over-population, and apparently feels they can do their part by encouraging mass murder among the living while clinging to the sanctity of fetuses and embryonic stem cells. These peculiar people seem to have every confidence that Jesus would feel the same way as they do while he fires-off his sacred semiautomatic into the heavens.

Vigilante ready-to-wear.

Listed below in red and blue are the names of both Republicans and Democrats who richly deserve to lose their jobs, and be forced to take minimum wage work that requires wearing a paper hat. WinnieToons feels it’s only appropriate to assign this list of weirdly named losers their very own gangsta nicknames–as if their real names weren’t rediculous enough:

(Hedy) Lamar Alexander – (R-TN)
Kelly (why I autta) Ayotte – (R-NH)
John emBarrasso – — (R-WY)
Max (Tipsy) Baucus – (D-MT)
Mark (The Baggage) Begich – (D-AK)
Roy Blunt (Nosed Revolver)-  (R-MO)
John (Think Drink) Boozman – (R-AR)
Richard M. (Aaron) Burr – (R-NC)
Saxby (Sexless Sassy) Chambliss – (R-GA)
Daniel (Turncoat) Coats – (R-IN)
Tom (Slow Burn) Coburn – (R-OK)
Thad (Dickless Cockroach) Cochran - R-MS)
Bob (Put a Cork In It) Corker – (R-TN)
John (Cornhole) Cornyn – (R-TX)
Ted Cruz (Control Broken) – (R-TX)
Michael B. (Bad) Enzi – (R-WY)
Deb (The Fluke) Fischer – (R-NE)
Jeff (Flakey) Flake – (R-AZ)
Lindsey Graham (Cracker) - (R-SC)
Charles E. (Gassy) Grassley – (R-IA)
Orrin G. Hatched at Birth) – R-UT)
Heidi (Heido-Heidi-HO) Heitkamp – (D-ND)
Dean (Go To) Heller – (R-NV)
John (Not Gonna Make It To) Hoeven – (R-ND)
James M. (In ‘Ya Face) Inhofe – (R-OK)
Johnny (Gotta Gun) Isakson – (R-GA)
Mike (Ho-Hum) Johanns  – R-NE)
Ron (Flacid) Johnson – (R-WI)
Mike (Let Mikey Eat It) Lee – (R-UT)
Mitch (The Bitch) McConnell – (R-KY)
Lisa (Murky) Murkowski – (R-AK)
Rand (Ayn) Paul – (R-KY)
Rob (Self Deport) Portman – (R-OH)
Mark Pryor (Offenses) - (D-AR)
Harry Reid (Lips) – (D-NV)
Jim (Gettin’) Risch – (R-ID)
Pat (Down) Roberts- (R-KS)
Marco (Token Minority) Rubio - (R-FL)
Tim (Dim) Scott – (R-SC)
Jeff (Psychiatry) Sessions – (R-AL)
Richard C. Shelby (Run – Run Shelby, Run – Away) – (R-AL)
John (The Lune) Thune – (R-SD)
David (Bitter) Vitter – (R-LA)
Roger (off His) Wicker (Rocker) -(R-MS)            Jerry (The Moron) Moran – (R-KS)                      Michael D. (This One’s WAY Too Easy) Crapo – (R-ID)

Another minor trying out the feel of holding firearms.

During the NRA convention, outgoing leader David Keene referred to the defeat of background checks as “quite an accomplishment that few of us would have predicted back in January.” Back when all of America realized the NRA represents the forces of evil–but greasing the palms of Congressional slime balls works like a charm.

Ted Nugent’s fruitless Journey to the Center of His Mind (or whatever is between his ears…)

Mentally challenged knuckleheads like Ted Nugent and Sarah Palin blathered-on in tongues in packed auditoriums while on the selling floor below, guns, ammunition and firearms accessories were for sale from over 500 retail death salesmen–hawking their obscene wares–boasting nine acres of killing machines marketed to a head count of approximately 70,000 paranoid and unstable potential customers.

Grandma’s gotta gun.

The overwhelming number of independent polls shows that 90% of all Americans support thorough background checks and closing gun show loopholes, but the attitude at the NRA Convention was predictable. One knucklehead was quoted as saying “Why should we pay through the nose for extra legislation and hassle law-abiding citizens?” Just let criminals slip through the cracks for all they care.

Sad sack, Gov. Rick Perry.

“You’re not going to ever stop gun violence with a band-aid,” said another road-scholar—with the “h” intentionally dropped.

Lapierre speaking on behalf of Satan.

Preaching to his own toxic choir, Wayne Lapierre irrationally attempted to link the gun-control debate to the Boston Marathon bombings, arguing: “As police searched for an armed suspect in a place where guns are heavily regulated, residents were sheltered in place with no means to defend themselves. How many Bostonians wished they’d had a gun?” Tell us why Wayne? So that even more people could be injured or killed in a spray of friendly fire fueled by paranoia and faulty judgment? Brilliant. Bloody fucking brilliant. But there were more clown acts to follow…

Santorum receiving the word of God and guns.

…Kinda-sorta-semi-Governor Sarah Palin, Texass Senator Ted Cruz, congenital idiot, Rick Santorum plus closet queen Texass Governor Rick Perry all espoused thinly veiled violent fantasies directed at President Obama, because freedom of speech doesn’t specify responsible speech when the speaker is monosyllabic and hate-filled.

Lipstick on a moose.

“This is about what kind of people we are and what kind of country we want to be.” said Sarah Palin, who failed to grasp that her statement can be interpreted to mean the polar opposite of what she intended. By the way, Sarah was wearing a black-and-pink T-shirt featuring moose antlers and the slogan “women hunt.” I wonder if she advocates hunting women? She certainly hasn’t proven herself to be any friend of her own gender.

Finally, senatorial simpleton, Ted Cruz ostentatiously boasted about filibustering all gun legislation earning him a standing ovation from people who have never lost a loved one at the hands of a mass murderer, or been crippled for life by a bullet to the spine—which might be partly due to a lack of any of them having a spine in the first place. Enough with the gunfire –the only kind of “firing” that should be taking place is firing Congresspeople by way of exercising your vote.

Disassociated Press, 5/5/2013

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My book, An Early Work Late in Life is available through PixelPreserve for $29.95 plus shipping and handling at:

Book signings are scheduled for 5:30pm on Thursday, May 16th at the Rochester Memorial Art Gallery, 500 University Avenue, Rochester, NY. And for Saturday, June 1st at 5:30pm at Giovanni’s Room, 345 South 12th Street, Philadelphia, PA.