Via valued commenter Bill E Pilgrim, a clip of Jon Chait delivering the most devastating retort since Woody Allen produced Marshall McLuhan to silence a pompous blowhard in “Annie Hall.”
Burn, baybee. Buurrrrnnnn!
Florida woman, still rocking a punk rock ethos in the 2020s, which is kind of sad. Betty Cracker has been a Balloon Juice writer since 2012.
by Betty Cracker| 157 Comments
This post is in: Open Threads, Politics, Assholes, Pink Himalayan Salt, Technically True but Collectively Nonsense
Via valued commenter Bill E Pilgrim, a clip of Jon Chait delivering the most devastating retort since Woody Allen produced Marshall McLuhan to silence a pompous blowhard in “Annie Hall.”
Burn, baybee. Buurrrrnnnn!
by Betty Cracker| 107 Comments
This post is in: Gun nuts, Open Threads, Assholes, General Stupidity
In the wake of the recent theater shooting, The Tampa Tribune contacted a team of psychiatrists to speculate on why “senseless shootings, escalating from minor disputes, are becoming an all-too familiar pattern.” Here are some theories offered by the experts:
Reeves [the theater shooter] showed signs of a personality disorder called extreme narcissistic injury…such a disorder, when combined with Reeves’ police background, could be a deadly combination.
But isn’t there something else that might have contributed to the tragedy…the ubiquity of something metal that goes “bang” and the loosening of restrictions on the use of deadly force? Nope; it must be the shooter’s age:
Reeves’ age, 71, could have been a contributing factor. As people get older, their brain’s prefrontal cortex suffers some degeneration. Among other things, this brain region is responsible for regulating behavior and suppressing emotional or sexual urges.
That accounts for the retiree crime wave that has the Youngs sheltering in place while graying hordes rape and pillage. Or not:
Society… seeks instant gratification. With smartphones and apps that effortlessly secure reservations at restaurants or seats at a concert, the world seems to be at our fingertips. When it isn’t, people sometimes react badly.
Yeah, that’s why I killed those dragging-ass varmints in the Piggly-Wiggly checkout line this morning; I completed my online banking in seconds flat, but those motherfuckers were STILL bitching about Obamacare, so BOOM.
Here’s an alternate theory: People were dumb hotheads even before the NRA rammed the Stand Your Ground law down the state’s muzzle. But since the state jettisoned the “duty to retreat” principle in favor of the Yosemite Sam mud flap, people are ending up dead over texting, popcorn, Skittles and walking while black, among other sinister activities.
The good news is, we don’t have to cure personality disorders, dementia, paranoia or impatience to address this sorry state of affairs: We just have to reassert the principle that saving lives and preventing harm is our highest priority, not affirming everyone’s right to be a badass.
Such a move won’t stop crime or eliminate idiotic aggression in public spaces, but it will signal to the citizens of the state that it’s no longer open season.
The roughest, toughest, rootinest, shootinest, etc.Post + Comments (107)
by Betty Cracker| 123 Comments
This post is in: Open Threads, Politics, Assholes
Preening, Tribble-topped presidential aspirant Rand Paul is reportedly going to introduce a bill today to repeal the Authorization for the Use of Military Force (AUMF) in Iraq. The White House is said to support the bill in theory:
“The administration supports the repeal of the Iraq AUMF since it is no longer used for any US government activities,” National Security Council spokeswoman Caitlin Hayden said in a statement, laying out the White House stance first reported by Yahoo News.
“We understand that some in Congress are considering legislation related to the Iraq AUMF, and we will certainly examine these proposals as they come forward.”
One US official said the White House has not actively sought to repeal the AUMF “because the effect would be entirely symbolic, and we have many more pressing priorities to take up with Congress.”
Yes, it’s symbolic, as Paul well knows, but it may serve to bolster his credentials among libertarians and a certain type of gullible liberal, which is obviously the point.
The AUMF debate occurred before Baby Doc entered public life, and he may very well have opposed it on the grounds that the money could best be funneled into the pockets of deserving billionaires. Does anyone know if he bothered to speak out on it at the time like another guy did?
by Betty Cracker| 146 Comments
This post is in: Domestic Politics, Open Threads
One of the perks of working at home is that you can play a musical instrument for relaxation when you take a break. I am a very bad ukulele player, but playing relaxes me.
Unless a fucking lizard leaps up out of the sound hole, that is; then, it’s not relaxing at all but actually terrifying for the millisecond it takes to realize that the organic life form that has just hurled itself from the interior to the surface of the instrument you’re cradling isn’t something scary like a snake or tarantula but just a small lizard, but shit, now that you’ve bellowed like a ruptured cow in fright, the dogs are racing to see what’s wrong, and they’ll eat the poor lizard, so damn, you’ve got to find a way to expel the intruder before they notice it, so maybe if you just sprint to the door holding the uke straight out, the lizard will stay where it is until you get on the porch, but fuck no, of course it runs up the neck of the uke and jumps onto your torso as if you were a tree trunk, but goddamnit, at least now you’re outside, so you can attempt to shake it off as it runs from your shoulder to your boob to your side then onto your back, presumably, since you can’t see it anymore, so you just jump around on the front porch while flailing your limbs (still clutching the uke in one hand) and pray to jeebus that no one happens to drive by and see you having an apparent seizure while holding a ukulele.
Then it’s not relaxing at all. Especially when you get back inside and prop the instrument against the wall – your practice session now irretrievably interrupted – and the fucking lizard comes back out of the sound hole. Or perhaps that’s its mate or one of an entire colony of goddamn lizards who have taken up residence in your ukulele. Fuck.
by Betty Cracker| 169 Comments
This post is in: Open Threads
Damn, that Saints defender rang Percy Harvin’s bell! Poor little Gator!
But the Seachickens take the lead, which makes valued commenter Yatsano happy. Please feel free to discuss the playoffs or any other topic.
This post is in: Domestic Politics, Open Threads
It’s a gorgeous day here. The above photo was taken earlier on the bank of a brackish section of river that empties into a bay, and thence into the Gulf of Mexico. You can’t tell from the photo (unless you closely observe the moss), but it’s very windy.
Last night when I was chauffeuring the younglings around, I caught snippets of an interview with Julian Fellowes, creator of Downton Abbey, on NPR. It got me thinking about the moral implications of domestic help.
Fellowes said his background was considerably less posh than is generally assumed, meaning his family only had people in to cook and clean rather than maintaining a large live-in staff with very specific roles (bum swabber, scone butterer, etc.).
I’ve personally experienced the luxury of domestic help only for one brief period in my life, and ironically, it was the time I had the least use for a servant: I was a single 20-something, living alone in an apartment. A dear friend was in dire straits financially and had launched a cleaning service, so I agreed to be his twice-weekly customer.
While it was nice to live in a place with consistently clean floors, windows and toilets, where shelves were regularly dusted and cobwebs cleared away, I felt weird about it. I would have rather just given my friend the money, but he wouldn’t have accepted it as a gift.
This arrangement ended when I met my future husband and we moved to a different part of town. He occasionally jokes that we married under false pretenses since he assumed I was a better housekeeper than I actually am because my apartment was so clean back then.
But if he was deceived, it wasn’t for lack of honesty on my part: I told him straight up that slovenliness is my natural state, and he was an awful slob himself: His bachelor apartment wasn’t merely untidy, it was positively squalid.
For the last 15+ years, we’ve maintained a basically hygienic but often dusty and cluttered home. We’re both capable of tolerating a high degree of domestic chaos; ongoing home renovations haven’t fazed us.
We split the household chores pretty evenly. I shoulder the lion’s share of the indoor work in exchange for not having mowed a lawn since the Clinton administration nor having had to patrol the yard for dog poop. Works for me.
My sister and sister-in-law, who are wealthy and child-free, have a cleaning lady, pool service and lawn crew. I think if you have too much shit to take care of yourself, you have too much shit. But maybe that’s just sour grapes.
Well, off to the store. I’m making fish tacos later, and we’ll watch the playoff games with friends and family. (Geaux Saints! Go Colts!)
What are y’all up to? Please feel free to discuss your philosophy on domestic help, your plans for today, football or whatever.
This post is in: Assholes, General Stupidity
Dave Weigel highlights an unintentionally hilarious excerpt from former Def Sec Robert Gates’ memoir. The scene is at the endpoint of a meeting between the president, VP, top brass, et al, regarding the strategy to handle a hypothetical conflict between Israel and Iran:
I was put off by the way the president closed the meeting. To his very closest advisers, he said, “For the record, and for those of you writing your memoirs, I am not making any decisions about Israel or Iran. Joe, you be my witness.” I was offended by his suspicion that any of us would ever write about such sensitive matters.
Self-awareness, Mr. Gates. Please procure some at once.