I thunk-it

More cord, please:

Just when I thought my plumb-line had sounded the absolute bottom of American meat-headedness, we hear about a poll (or polls) finding that a "majority" (somewhere over 50%---I can't find the specifics) are in favor a preemtive military strike against Iran! Ergo I ask:

HOW STUPID CAN STUPID GET?

Clearly: A whole lot stupidder that I thought! Now that a majority has finally---after almost three years of feebly pondering the bold-faced facts of undeniable reality---a majority has finally found themselves stunned with the blatantly obvious facts of that reality: Bush lied US into attacking Iraq, attacking Iraq was a HUGE mistake, and in the war in Iraq, we are totally fucked...fucked by Bush and the supidity of Jane & Joe American Meathead.

Now Bushco is playing the same crooked card trick with a stacked IRAN deck, and all the meatheads of America are falling for the same stupid, crooked card trick all over again.

HOW STUPID CAN YOU GET?!

Stupidder still, clearly.

It took Jane & Joe American Meathead over 2 years to catch on to the fact that Bush had scammed US into attacking Iraq, so sometime before Nov of this year Bush will attack Iran...he has already started the same con-game scam again and Jane & Joe are already going, "Ooh ooh ooh," again, and, "Ooh ooh ooh, good move Mr. Pres...So duh I duh guess duh this duh means duy now I duh gotta vote straight GOP 'cause Dems are soft on war & we don't wanna change hobby-horsies in duh middle duh of duh another duh war.

The effects of this unfathomable stupidity will be horrific: above and beyond the horrors of yet another unjustified con-war, the Iranian oil output will go the way of Iraqi oil production (ie DOWN!), ergo the price of oil will skyrocket and the cost of energy will become impossible to shoulder: those of us who must commute to work will not be able to because only the rich will be able to buy gasoline; the cost of everything we buy will skyrocket because the cost of transporting said goods will instantly reach the point where only the rich can afford to buy ANYTHING; our economy will crash and with the Bushco deficit being so horribly astronomical, the USA will have a credit rating of junk-bonds minus-ten thousand points, which will make it impossibe for the fed to borrow any money to do a single goddamn thing save US.

The depression of the '30s will pale in comparison to where we'll be five years from now and then, JANE & JOE AMERICAN MEATHEAD, your unfathomable stupidity will be to blame and the worst of it is (as if things could be any worse) is that YOU WILL NOT HAVE LEARNED A GODDAMN THING!!! You'll still be even stupidder than stupid gets and sucked in yet again by the Bushit bullshit of even more "trickle-down" economics to save the day, and that will be then END of DAYS for the USA and probably much of the world.

If I had the magical power to do so, I would disallow ANYONE who supports a strike against Iraq a vote in November, or to vote EVER AGAIN for life.


Will I ever sound the absolute bottom of American stupidity? Methinks there ain't enough string in the whole world to plumb that deep.

!!!FILIBUSTER!!!

Even if those with the spine & will to filibuster Alito don't have enough true-blue soldiers to sustain such a battle for long, they ought to take their best shot anyway---and forcibly smoke out the DINO's, exposing them to light of day for the public to see unshrouded and without ambiguity.

IT'S THE TEN-LETTER F-WORD, STUPID!!!

...Irrational Optimism, anyone?

Rumors are flying in bloggoland's leftern hemisphere that Beltway Dems JUST might manage to oomph up the intestinal oomph to shit themselves a genuinte anti-Sammy "the machine-gun" Borkalito filibuster!

Fact: Those who fear the "nuclear option" invocation are FOOLS! FOOLS I say...either that, or they're DINO's merely decrying their fear of their fears (to justify their bed-wetting fear of losing the filibuster).

Fact: Outlawing the filibuster is a double-edged sword. If the Rupugs rip filibustering from the cold dead hands of this cold (& thus proven) dead Dem party, the filibuster will still be gone when Dems take back the majority...and they will, IF they stand up against that Repugnatious Alito bat-bastard from hell NOW.

Fact: Failure to face the threat of an anti-filibuster nuke'op will hurt Dems this Nov, while aiding and abetting Bushco's insidiously corrupt GOP! ie. Beltway Dems who run & hide from an Alito filibuster will cost the Demo Party a fair shot at retaking the majority in one house for sure, probably both.

I have a bi-dicotomous dream:

1) Dems call the Repug's bluff(?) and successfully filibuster Alito;
1a) Dems win a 2-house majority---reward for showing some spine;

2) Dems filibuster Alito, Repugs push the nuke'op button & put Alito on the SC;
2a) this is the best: Dems win a 2-house majority after Repugs have outlawed filibustering, ergo Dems can impeach Bushco unchallenged, Dems can pass huge TAKE-BACK taxes on corporations and the richest of the rich---also unchalllenged, and Dems can start rebuilding our social infrastructures...almost* totally unchallenged.

* Lest I forget: Dems would have enough majority to over-ride any & all (R) W-House vetoes, no matter who's prez (by de-fault of Chimp&Cheney&Condisucknfuck being sent home tard & feathured.

I be hopin', but not holding my breath.
!

Atlito confirmed by default of duh DINOs

The GOP threatened "the nuclear option" to castrate the Congressional Dems' filibuster act but when it came Right down to it, the Repugs found nothing to cut off!

We quothe one prominent Repug: "You can't castrate a pig what hath no balls!"

We quothe one prominent DINO: "At least I still have my scrotum intact, so with this here little ol' air-pump I can still continue to fake it...business as usual is better than no business at all, sez I."

FOOLED AGAIN

After a year of mental-fatiguing stuggles to finally get it straight in my mind (re. the difference between Reed & Reid and which is which) Harry Reid finally (very nearly) settled it for me with a recent speech wherein he quite lucidly ticked off Bushco's crimes against Truth, Justitic and the American way...

But alas, my mind is suddenly cornfused again: Harry Reid, who I had finally got in my head was Harry Reid with a (D) has now said there are 8 senators who don't want to filibuster Sammy "the machine-gun" Borkalito but, he (Reid) refuses to say who those 8 are, adding, "...and I will not attempt to sway their decission not to filibuster...." Oh, that's leadership for yuh.

Well sit me down, freeze my face, slap me silly & call be stoopid!

Ye but we do here confess that this profound re-cornfusion is not entirely unanticipated: in the Reid speech (towit I defere to the above) there was one glaring omission which gave me pause from instantly jumping up & down in unfettered joy & singing, "Reid's a (D), Reid's a (D): my joy was painfully fettered by Reid's ultimate failure to ever utter the "i" word relative to the smirking chimp of whom he was speaking in such illuminous terms.

"Humm," thought I at the time, "this is troubling."

Turns out I was sound in my angst to feel troubled: Reid is an (R) after all, on two counts:
1) singing one tune while dancing to another is, if nothing else, Repugnatious;
2) failure to filibuster Borkalito is, in fact, a vote for confirmation---and confirming "the machine-gun" is the very quintescence of adulterous Repugnacity.

Meanwhile, my list of five "true-blue" Dems is very near to being notched down to just four: by refusing to use the "i" word concerning Bush, and by further stating that instead of impeaching, she, "...preferes to let the electoral process take its course," Pelosi is not just flirting with my EJECT! button, she's taunting me with it!

Finally, this: the Sedate Judiciary Committee is scewing up their spin springs to maximum degree for (pretended) hearings next month into the illegallity, unConstitutionallity and impeachability of Bush's unwarranted spying on innocent American citizens who dare to disagree with the wittow boy pwezidunce's dictatorial headlong drive into tyranny...with him as the sitting/mtn-biking tyranical dictator, natch.

Thumb-screws at 9:11

Honest players never win in a crooked game.

Will things really change if Dem's take back the majority in either (or even both) house(s) of Congress this Nov.? Methinks not.

Ralph Nader in 2000: "Republicans and Democrats are essentially the same party---their manifest differences are mere window-dressing designed to keep any 3rd party (of real opposition) from ever gaining even a toehold in government." (We paraphrase.) I, Black Jack Brisco, now hereby state catagorically that the differences between the two parties (D&R) are now even less than before: the window-dressing has been reduced to nothing more than a flimsy facade of paper & tempra with no real substance whatsoever.

The evidence is profuse, profound, and it runs both wide and deep all across the nation. Jane & Joe American Meathead have waded in over their heads and are drowning the rest of us with them.

...from the past...

re The Bush Dynasty

"...the wrong-doing of one generation lives into the successive ones... ...and becomes a pure and uncontrollable mischief... ...tumbling down an avalanche of ill-gotted gold, or real estate, on the heads of an unfortunate posterity, thereby to maim and crush them, until the accumulated mass shall be scattered abroad in its original atoms."

(by Nathaniel Hawthorne, in his Preface to "The House of the Seven Gables", circa Jan 27, 1851)

Powerless, but not apathetic.

So Sad...

Due to a complete lack of interest, spine, pluck & cajonas in Bloggoland's leftern hemisphere, "Let's Roll Day" has been cancelled and the Secret Attack Squirrel "Flight For Freedom" squadron has been dissolved, disbanded, and all sent on their not-so-merry & wayward seperate ways.

It has now been undeniably demonstrated that "I'm a Democrat" voters have exactly the kind of congress-people they deserve: self-interested, spineless, pluckless & de-balled cowards whos' MMO (Main Modus Operandi) is limited to merely whining from the shady shadows of their gutless terrors...just like the vast majority of those who vote for them---those content to just sneak & lurk in the "Comments" boxes of bloggoland's leftern hemisphere.

These cowardly Democrats are always thrilled to whine among themselves on the one hand while piling hoped on hopes that somebody(else) will do something before it's too late...is now too late:

While the congress has been bought & paid for by greedy & corrupt special interests only interested in enriching themsleves, a tyrannical wanna-be dictator has stolen two elections and stacked the Supreme Court with a majority of fools...fools all, because these fools (falsely) believe that the tyrant will continue to honor their blind loyalty to him once they have made him dictator (in fact, if not in print). But the other side of this fact is that a tyrannical dictator honors no one but himself and his own powers---those who have put him in power will only remain in his good grace as long as they continue to do just exactly as he dictates.

The fear of retrubution and ruination that's already and rapidly growing among those who dare criticize the dicatator will soon find themselves succoring to these same fears; where they once imagined special freedoms in their own thoughts & actions (in return for supporting the dictator's rise to tyrannical powers) they will instead find themselves just as easily dumped, dismissed, even punished, as the dictator's detractors have been.

Witness the evidence: continual and unlawful lying to congress and the American people goes unchallenged by any legal actions, ergo unstopped and by extropolation, condoned; spying on peace groups, anti-war groups, and the illegal tapping of phone/e-mail/internet traffic of ALL AMERICANS likewise goes unchalleged, and is thus unwittingly condoned by those who could stop it but refuse to do so---either from fear, or because they secretly support the notion of the USA becoming a dictatorship WITH THEMSELVES IN PERPETUAL POSITIONS OF UNMITIGATED POWER. This group includes all the fools in Traditional Media who are supporting this tyrant's rise to power by popogating his lies and deceits; further compounded by their failure to speak out against the criminal acts he commits with unchallenged impunity.

All the whining little worms in bloggoland who SAS tried so feverishly to rouse in protest/domonstration have, by their inaction, surrendered to the coming tyranny and absolutely, unchangeably relegated themselves to being the lowest craps in the lowest class/caste system that is now falling down upon us.

This is a perfect example of "Life ain't fair": while all those who are failing to take a stand against this decline into tyranny deserve no more than to be ruled by an evil dictator, those of us who are taking a stand DON'T deserve it, but we will never-the-less be forced under the grist mill right along with these spineless worms, and I hate them for it.

I'm alone in the SAS G-HQ treehouse this morning---all others have fled and I shall soon follow their well-advised but saddening example.

I'm turning out the lights now. Farewell...signing off here,
---Black Jack Brisco---

PS: Due to a (D)party-wide lack of spine, pluck & cahones, LET'S ROLL DAY, the IMPEACH BUSH DRIVE-IN and the UN-PLUG BUSHCO ROLLING BLACK-OUT have been cancelled...even the Squirrel's Pearls were bigger than those he found in bloggoland!
:(

thunk-it

the IMPEACH BUSH DRIVE-IN
----1/21/06
----noon to 1:00 your local time
----drive by local newspaper/TV & radio stations with window signs: IMPEACH BUSH

the UN-PLUG BUSHCO ROLLING BLACK-OUT
----1/21/06
----9:00 pm to 10:00 your local time
----turn off all you lights

LET'S ROLL!
!

HORRORS!

Emergency measures are called for, response options being considered: the coffee-maker here at SAS's Global Headquarters died early this morning, leaving everyone in a dim state of dull-head dim-wittedness and to make matters worse, our Emergency Supply of instant coffee has petrified into a monolithic, glass-aromored rock and to make matters worser still, severe withdrawl symptoms are beginning to surface...this is not good: there's nothing more dangerous than a Secret Attack Squirrel reeling & writhing in the grips of an involuntary caffine no-fix fit.

This idea has been floated: raid the neighborhood Speedy-Shop/Kwik-Stop-Kum&Go/7-11 for a new jar of fresh instant (yuk) freeze-dried coffee crystals...the hat's being passed even as I type this blog report slated for immediate release. Meanwhile...

Damn: this just in: the Seedy-Speedy-Kwiky-Shop does not carry instant coffee! Cranking up his super-heroic micro-brain, Secret Attack Squirrel said in a muddled tone, "Extreme emergencies call for extreme measures." Ergo we have recoved that one chunk of fossilized instant coffee from the trash can, added a dash of hot water and shook vigorously, thus producing a semi-liquified super-consentrate of W-990. Owing to zero experience with mixing tolleable measurements of this dubious concoction, the first cup had the consistancy of much over-used lawn-mower engine oil at first sip, Secret Attack Squirrel shot sraight out the hanger-bay door on a point-blank trajectory for immediate collision into the side of a passing Continental bus...Chartered to Chicago.

We have now diluted this possibly poisonous brew, but the jury's still out (on various limbs) in juditious consideration of its potential potability and viability for suporing life.

A new development: the SAS Flight Boss just arose with heartening news: "We have another, (really)old coffee-maker long-ago retired to moth-balls and it should still be serviceable."

Manna from heaven! :)

New Business: Secret Attack Squirrel yesterday was much enthused to find a budding interest in the IMPEACH BUSH DRIVE-IN; also, this interest spawned the UN-PLUG BUSH ROLLING BLACK-OUT plan and all this has now hatched into what's being called "LET'S ROLL DAY".

the DRIVE-IN: 1/21/06 noon to 1:00 your local time, drive by you local newspaper/TV & radio stations with IMPEACH signs in car windows.

the ROLLING BLACK OUT: 1/21/06 from 9:00 to 10:00 pm your local time, turn out your house lights.

LET'S ROLL!
!

There's somethin happin here...

1/21/06 IMPEACH BUSH DRIVE-IN (see earlier blog)

1/21/06 UNPLUG BUSHCO WAVE OF DARKNESS: 8:05 pm (local) turn on all house lights; 9:00 all lights out; 9:05 back to normal

LET'S ROLL!

No Beep & you're a gonner:

Secret Attack Squirrel's Commodore keyboard has really been smokin...

Unlike virtually everybody else in Bloggoland's leftern hemisphere, SAS is actually taking action: he has jumped on board this HONKATHON thing and is doing his best to pass the word & get the plan out.

There are those who are trying to shut this deal down by poo-pooing, saying, "Why bother? Ain't gonna do no good."

Clearly, non-commitants like these poo-pooer poopie-pants lack the grand vision Secret Attack Squirrel has revealed to the rest of us here at SAS Global Headquarters:

Imagine, if you will, a massive HONKATHON turn-out wherein an hour-long steady stream of IMPEACH BUSH cars cruises by all the newspaper/TV & radio stations all across this (once) great Nation of ours. Tho' the Big Dogs of Traditional Media (formerly known as M$M) will make every attempt to sweep this auto-monumental demonstration under the skirt-folds of pro-Bushco spinning & lies, the local outlets wouldn't dare---it'll be a big story & good press for them (if not the chimp)...and to ignore it would be at their peril.

Sadly, SAS has so far had little luck (no luck, really) garnering any support for this peaceful but potentially noisy demonstration against the looming threat of a smirking chimp becoming tyrant and dictator over US.

to summerize:

what: IMPEACH BUSH DRIVE-IN HONKATHON

when: 1/21/06 noon to 1:00 your local time

where: your local newspaper/TV & radio stations

action: make car-window sign saying IMPEACH BUSH and drive by above venues honking


All you need is one sheet of paper and a crayon...everybody's got that. But two crayons would be nice and with that in mind, we suggest a Red White & Blue color scheme: Red & Blue lettering on white paper. Of course, everyone should feel free to let their own creative juices flow just this once.

Nothing could be easier: no distant travel, no endless search for a parking space, no long walk to the scene of the demonstration, no long march---and in a car, you're less likely be be culled, misused and abused by jack-booted thugs hiding behind cop badges.

Doing nothing but whine = a surrender to tyranny!
!

HONK TO IMPEACH DRIVE-IN


1/21/06

noon to 1:00 local time

drive by local newspaper/TV stations honking honking honking

be there or surrender to tyranny

iIi

For many hours now, Secret Attack Squirrel has been prostrated by an apoplectictifying attack of severest perlexity. What caused this condition? News that Sammy "the machine-gun" Borkalito's confirmation to the SCotUSA will likely not be fillibustered by Damnocrats, thus alowing the wittow boy preziducne to punt another of his Bushevikian pro-tyranny/pro-dictatorship fascists into the highest court in the land, thus putting the High Court onto a fast, oily track designed to fast-track the Constutution of the USA to the very bottom of the GOPer oil-fired, civil/human rights-burning burn-pile of unbriddled GOPer evil, greed and corruption.

Ordinarily, this is where SAS's Emergency Response Team would swing into action and take whatever actions were deemed necessary and apropriate to revive and restore our fainted hero back up to snuff as the super-hero he ordinarily is, but none of the ERT has yet returned from their flights abroad caused by that gawd-all mighty powerful accidental fartbomb explosion of several days past. So, throwing caution to the wind, this reporter has taken matters into his own paws and broken cell-phone silence: I called all three ERT members and told'em wha' hoppen'd, adding, "Get your tails back here ASAP!" and further adding, "Our Nation needs you!" and additionally adding, "Get the lead out!" and finally adding, "Please?"

One ERT member asked, "Anything else?" and I added, "This (Sammy 'the machine-gun' Borkalito) situation is only the tip of the iceburg: As we speak, Bushco is currently fixing faux-facts to justify tactical nuclear strikes against Iran and un-warranted illegal wire-taps by the Bushco-controled NSA are spreading faster that fartbomb fumes and the IRS is illegally feeding NSA data on leftist voters and the NSA is illegally spying of anti-war individuals, groups, clubs, old grannies and anybody else who disagrees with the wittow boy prezidunce and it's been proven that Duhyuh wanted to bomb al Jazeera and he did fix faux-facts to justify attacking Iraq and our chicken-shitted Damnocrats AIN'T DOING A FUCKING THING ABOUT IT!"

T'was then I paused to take a deep breath, only to be rewarded by cell-phone silence from the cell-phone ethernet: ERT #2 had hung up on this reporter.

On that unsettling note, we end this transmission until further notice.
?

HOOPS

The startling behavior of Secret Attack Squirrel and Black Jack Brisco---that one-eyed cat with the twice-broke zig-zag skelatal tail---becoming bossom drinkin buddies yesterday has apparently ended. The facts are not entirely clear at this time, but we can surmise certain inferences from observable evidence in the SAS G-HQ hanger following Black Jack's paniced, head-over-tail full-throttle withdrawl from the scene.

It seems that after several hours of imbibing heady ale (67 pints are currently missing from inventory) SAS & BJ adjourned to the G-HQ mess-hall for aspirin & a snack and unwittingly, it seems, Secret Attack Squirrel ate something "disagreeable" and before long, he had inadvertantly worked up enough gas to arm several small fartbombs, one of which was incidentally and accidentally released in close quarters (a seriously nasty combination). Fortunately, the high-explosive fumes did not detonate (for a change) but with his most-recent involuntary super-global circumnaviation still in the forefront of his adled memory, Black Jack hit the road running...

...Remember you heard it here first: Secret Attack Squirrel came instantly to the hanger-bay door and leaning out, cried after Black Jack, "Sorry about that, old man! I didn't mean to...I didn't do it on purpose! It WAS a dud, after all. No real harm done!"

T'was then that SAS passed out and plummeted straight down, head first...impact with the ground necessarily forced another fartbomb release and sadly, this time, this one did ignite. But once again, good fortune was on the side of good and the ensuing fire-ball was rather small and quickly and harmlessly dissipated into a light, southerly breeze.

It is the opinion of this reporter that at their earliest possible convenience, Secret Attack Squirrel's DOA (Dept of Ordinance Arming--aka the chief cook & bottle-washer here at SAS G-HQ) create new standards and immediately implement improved proceedures for the CONTROLED arming of Secret's fartbombs! This business of giving SAS carte blanc access to the raw material required for fueling and arming fartbombs HAS GOT TO STOP! Though our illustrious super-hero always conducts himself with the best of intentions and n'er a bit of malice towards others, he simply can not be trusted in the pantry! QED all these accidental weapons releases, and the unintentional meyham they produce. Indeed, none of the ERT (Emergency Response Team) has yet return from afar and afield, making us wonder if maybe, just maybe, they've gone AWOL...perfectly unerstandable under these latest mitigating circumstances.

Back at-cha tomorrow.

I thunk-it

Where we left off yesterday: Black Jack Brinco had gotten into the SAS G-HQ flight-hanger and he & Secret Attack Squirrel were circling each other warily...everyone else bailed out el pronto...

Fearing the worst and yet burning up with curiosity, this reporter yesterday crept closer & closer back to Secret Attac Squirrl's Global Head-Quarters, thinking, "It's awful quiet up there, too quiet," thus giving us pause to wonder if Black Jack was just then making a quiet and sensible meal of our dear leader & hero. I had just reached to trunk of the tree when I was startled to hear a macabre and meloncholic tune in the form of Black Jack's felineous voice...only to be further startled to hear Secret Attack Squirrel join in...that's when I was struck in the head by an empty metal flask smelling of whiskey...cheap whiskey...and I was knocked senseless for uncounted minutes.

But upon regaining my senses, the mournful bale was still lilting downward from on high in a slightly-less-than harmonious discombobulation of an old WWII RAF song. With curiosity raging out of control, I mounted the bark and worked my way up to the hanger-bay door with utmost caution & peeking in, was so stunned by the scene that befell my sight that I fell plumb out of the tree and knocked myself senseless all over again...

Here's what I recall seeing: SAS & Black Jack leaning together, obviously propping each other up, shoulder to shoulder & forelegs locked, leaning on G-HQ's plastic piano, weilding mugs of ale and apparently deep in the throes of some kind-a weird counter-species male bonding thing! On a far wall hung the wittow-boy pwezidunce in effigy, spiked through with enough English-feathered darts to quill a porkee-pine! "Where'd they get all those darts?" I recall asking myself during free-fall on the way down to the ground for a hard & heavy landing.

I'm almost back to my usual self now, but I'm not goin up there again alone!

Further reports "As time goes by." (that's what they're singin(sic) now).
?

Major blue funk goin on here!

All three members of the SAS Emergency Response Team crash-landed far short of the runway after SAS's last accidental fartbomb release: good news is they all survived the explosion, and that ballistic ascent into the strasphere, their non-ballistic descent, and then harsh landings for all; bad news is the roaming charges from all three cell-phoning home to say, "I'm ok."

Quoting Secret Attack Squirrel now: "Being grounded while my ERT works their way homeward is bad enough, but these roaming charges...too much."---thus this deep blue funk pervading SAS G-HQ.

Still, there was one moment of levity when Black Jack Brisco came by G-HQ with the temerity to yeowl up & ask for a rub-down, "I'm hurtin' all over," said he, adding, "and my mange is cleared up, so you needn't worry about cross-contamination."

Guffaws & belly-laughs were numberous, only to be bruskly stifled when Black Jack started clawing his way up the G-HQ tree...indeed, everyone here was seized with fear: Secret's appetite has been off since eating all that rotten chili and so, try as he did, he could not muster the gas for even one fartbomb with which to defent us, ergo we were all at Brisco's mercy...all but the ERT, who are still at large and scattered at undisclosed locations around the western hemisphere.

But wonder of wonders, Black Jack Brisco was in no mood to fight, nor hungry for squirrel meat: upon squeezing into the hanger-bay, he even graciously declined our peace-offering of grape-nuts with horse-radish hors d'oeuvres, saying, "No thanks, I grabbed a bite on the way down from that globe-trot just a few minutes ago--a couple of sea gulls at a thousand feet, a dozen or so blackbirds from 500 on down. So how's Secret doin'? Heard from him yet?"

"I'm right here, Blackie."

The SAS G-HQ was instantly evacuted, leaving Secret Attack Squirrel and Black Jack Brisco behind, alone together in the hanger-bay, circling each other warily. I'll let-cha know what develops, as it develops, although it bears noting that this reporter's veiw is somewhat obscured by a tree-lined distance of three tree-lined city blocks.

?

(Y)
Just awhile ago, Secret Attack Squirrel was surfing AMERICAblog comments when he was suddenly, without warning, thrown violently backwards from the communal Commodore C-64 and he said, and I quote: "Well sit me down, slap me silly, freeze my face and Bic my balls with a leaky Zippo!"

We have since learned the cause of Secret's spontaneous outburst of vociferous combustion, and it was simplicity in itself: he had been accused of speaking "in the second person" and what's worse, t'was called "sooo boooring"! (or something to that effect)

This outrage of nounerific adverbosity has flabbergasted one & all here at SAS G-HQ, and we all stand apalled, just apalled...anybody who's ever been here at the SAS G-HQ tree house know's that Secret Attack Squirrel is not alone, and tho' his friends (at least those willing to admit to it) can be counted on just 1-1/2 squirrel paws, HE IS NOT ALONE!

True, we don't get a lot of visitors here, and the number of "anybody who's ever been here" probably doesn't far exceed that astronomical figure of 2 (including Back Jack Brisco) but we stand by it that Secret Attack Squirrel in not along here and furthermore, he rarely even speaks in the 1st person posessive, protactive, regressive or wierdissive, let alone going hog-wild with any silly second person soloquies of questionable inferential substanalities...nope, it's mostly just repotin' & quotin goin on here, and most all of it's made up of good-ol' gall'd-nab-it utterly false fabrications manufactured in the subterranian ice-caves of a sick mind, currently leased from the evil war lord, Prince Octoporous.


Hq

XXX
I should come as no surprise that Secret Attack Squirrel---thanks to the benefit of certain unspecified super-heroic powers of recovery---was the first to return safely to base after his most recent accidental release of one truly special and totally memorable fartbomb, the effect of which launched SAS along with the Emergency Response Team and Black Jack Briso all together helter-skelter into various and dissimilar low-earth orbits of unexpected duration. Dragging himself painfully and incrementally up the tree and then limping pathetically into the SAS G-HQ hanger, Secret's first words were a shocker: "Is Black Jack back yet?"

Thus precipitating a simple answer, "Not as far as we know," but a question still begged: "Why do you ask?"

"I ask because our flight-paths crossed somewhere over the Indian ocean and his speed appeared to be a couple of clicks faster than mine. But then he WAS going the long way around on an equatorial route, while I was flying pole-to-pole...and anybody who flies much knows the world's fatter one way than the other."

It was at just that moment when we heard a caterwhaling squeal go screaming overhead followed by a really-smallish sonic boom and rushing to the hanger-bay door, we were all thrilled by the spectacle of seeing a bone-tailed cat go streaking by in his meteoric descent into a nearby, recently-plowed corn field where last Halloween's "Field of Screams" maze had been set up. Someone observed on a particualarly rhetorically sardonic note, "Looks like Black Jack's back now, if yuh wanna know." Another asked, "Yuh think this cured him of the mange?"...Secret Attack Squirrel just nodded, then shrugged, then shook his head (somewhat stiffly) then turned away and staggered into sick-bay, saying, "Let me know when the ERT gets in---no more flight operations without them on duty, or at least on call, AND they gotta be ambulatory...I ain't flyin' no-moe tilt they be ambulatory."

Feeling sorry for Secret, this reporter asked, "Anything I can do? Anything I can get you?"

"Yeh," said he, "pain relievers, and lots of 'em, a fifth of 12-year old Scotch would be a nice start; but if that's asking too much, I'll settle for a pint of Lord Calvert, or even a twelve'er of Milwaukee's Best; and if that's still too much to ask, maybe some Mad Dog 20/20 and if you can't even swing that, a 40-oz bottle of Colt 45 or Old English 800--doesn't have to be cold. Maybe you should pass the hat."

Thus ends another day in the continuing saga of Secret Attack Squirrel's on-going battle with a way-ripe batch of left-over chili and some out-dated Jolt soda.

More phews at 11:00.

00
Writing in the heat of a very heated and exciting moment on Friday, this reporter got mixed up about two mystical mythical critters: towit, a bird re-arising from ashes (ie Phoenix) was NOT seen on the banner on that speeding flattery wagon that T-boned Secret Attack Squirrel---that image was acutally a critter with a lion's body, wings and the head & chest (ie boobs) of a woman...presumably human. Our apologies, but one must recall...

As you may rememeber from our last episode, Secret Attack Sqirrel and the SAS Emergency Response Team (ERT) had gotten themselves entangled together in a discarded hairnet, fallen out of their tree and were scapping it out on the ground in a vigorous and contensious debate over how to best extract themselves from the situation...but no two could agree on a sigle point, ergo things were going down hill fast when Black Jack Brisco overheard this vociferous and violent controversy and came to investigate.

Brisco's initial assesment suggested swift action and he was on the brink of throwing himself into the battle, but them some unfathomable second thought arrested his approach: he sat down...not easy, nor particularly comfy on a hideless & wire-stiff fused skeletal tail. But sit he did, and in that gentle repose merely observed the melee, presumably waiting patiently to see how events would ultimately unfold.

As events unfolded to Black Jack's perspective, we surmise he must have been thinking he'd just wait until SAS and the ERT wore themselves out, and then pounce for a simple mop-up operation. However, wanting to get a closer look at the meyham, he moved in closer---too close: clearly, he was unaware that Secret Attack Squirrel had earlier slammed down a prodigous breakfast of left-over chili con carn mixed with left-over chili with beans, all of it washed it down with two 16oz bottles of Pepsi and three (WAY-long date-expired) cans of Jolt soad. (Note: this reporter as since learned that the left-over chili was over two-weeks old and had been unrefrigerated, which spells "Fermentation" with a capitol "F".)

We cut to the chase: All who have been following these super-heroic adventures of Secret Attack Squirrel and his crew are aware that his weapon of choice is the infamous, incidious, "fartbomb", and such are prone to an accidental release at any moment. Well, Black Jack Brisco was just two feet away when it happened: an accidental fartbomb release in the midst of the ERT, the four of them together tightly wrapped up in a discarded hair net. Well this was no ordinary fartbomb: the propellant (recall the chili etc) has sinced proofed out at over 90% pure methane, and the ensuing "six ways to Sunday" conflagration goes beyond the pale of of this reporter's language skills.

So let it sufice to say just this: Black Jack Brisco, Secret Attack Squirrel and the ERT all went ballistic in that mushroom cloud of indescribable horrors and the restraining strenth of that old hair-net was just no match for the combined energies of four totally freaked-out squirrels: all have (presumably) gone their seperate ways at mach+ speeds, leaving only smoke-streaks & con-trails to evidence the multiple directions of the manifold, super-sonic departures...

We'll let you know when (if?) any return to safety.

?
Just moments ago, while surfing the AMERICAblog comments section, Secret Attack Squirrel was unexpected broad-sided by a flattery wagon sporting jaded shades and flying the banner of mystical, mythical bird re-arisen from ashes. Momentarily stunned by this extraordinary accident (surely couldn't be intentional) Secret soon looked up, only to be instantaniously struck again, this time knocking him into a dizzying fit furry-faced blushin & unmitigated struttin 'round the hanger-bay.

Finding this behavior insufferable, ASA's ERT (Emergency Responst Team) threw a discarded hair-net over our (temporarily?) screwed-up hero and threatened with "a wet-sock whippin blanket party".

But undetered--and being a SUPER-hero & all--Secret Attack Squirrel quickly overpowered the ERT and dragged them all, screaming, out the lauch-bay door and they all fell headlong out of the G-HQ tree and are now writhing violently together on the gound...Black Jack Brisco is on his way!

RUN FOR YOU LIVES, FOOLS!

!!!
In a radical departure from tradition, Secret Attack Squirrel has mixed a partial batch (ie left-overs)...of home-made chili con carn with a partial batch of home-made chili with beans and is squaring off to eat this conflagrational concoction for breakfast! Obviously, the ERT (Emergency Response Team) has been scrambled and are, even as this reporter reporters from the relative safely of a near-by trash-can, dawning their purple-felt-lined tin-foil fire-suits. The SAS G-HQ hanger bay has been cleared of comustibles and the tree's trunk soaked with flame-retardant hypo-alergenic antihisimenes and a bottle of flat skunk-beer left over from last night...the suggestion of (again) employing a retaining staple on Secret's tail was raised, but instantly shouted down, "Are you crazy?! You want the whole tree to burn down?! To explode?! You wanna die?!!!"

I'll get back to you as soon as I've moved this trash can a little farther down the block...
!

!
With little more to go on than a whim & a fancy, Secret Attack Squirrel has begun pondering that potentially life-changing question: "Is it time to retire?"

A resounding, "You're too young to retire!" echoed throughout the lofty halls of SAS's Global Headquarters, followed by, "What would become of us?" (By "us" it can be taken for granted we refere to all SAS staff members, their families, pets and the communal back-scratching post.) And finally, "Has our fearless leader gone nuts?!"

"Yes," said one sadly, adding, "indeed, 'stark raving loonie-tunes' would not be an overstatement...buzzerko, cuckoo crackers, bonkers, mentally unhinged, unscrewed, unwound..."

"ENOUGH!" SAS quickly and loudly admonished from the urinal, then, "We need a knew scent cake in here."

"With all due respect, chief, you're not supposed get IN the urinal to use it."

All which begs the follow-up question: "Wha-hoppin? What overwhelming challenge has so destablized our intrepid hero from that historic single-minded drive in the fight for truth, justice and the American way?"

Secret Attack Squirrel's carefully worded response: "The battle...no, the WAR is lost. Congress has utterly abdicated their role in the Checks & Balance scheme of things, thus allowing duh wittow boy prezidunce to gather all the reins of power into his own two bloody wittow boy monkey-claws...which are controled by a cabal led by evilDick Cha-cha-duh-dooschie-baggie-Cheney. They control the Senate; they control the House; they control the jucidiary; they control the Supreme Court; they control the Pentagon; they control the NSA, the CIA, the FBI, the FEC; the FCC, the DHLS, FOX, CNN, NBC, MSNBC, CBS, ABC, Cspan I & II, the WSJ, the WaPo, the LAT, the NYT, even the makers of PMS drugs...they control the whole woiks. I even wonder if they somehow control Black Jack Brisco's twisted brain, and that weird tail of his--egads that's scary.

"No, my friends, the situation is insurmountable. The 'Constitutional Crisis' is come & gone & we missed it, the 'wanna-be' dictator now IS Dictator...and that's with a capitol D. The dark side has won. Fascism has won. Tyranny has won. The Constitution of the US is dead, it's ineffectual, now it IS 'just a goddamn piece of paper'...thanks to a cowering, cowardly Congress copulated...oops, I mean POPULATED by a vast majority of criminally insane no-good evil-doers."

I can't go on--too choked up.

USA:RIP

I thunk-it
Mighty bad news in bloggoland: His Majesty, the Imperial Pwezidunt, has filled 17 key gov positions while Cogress was on break, thus screwing the Senate out of their Constitutional role, right and duty for "Advise and Consent" in such appiontments. Sadly, it's a virtual certainty that Congress will go quietly into the night on this scandal.

NBC wonders if the Imperial Pwezidunt has been illegally spying on one of their reporter/journalists...not to mention 30,000 other illegal wire-taps. Sadly, it's a virtual certainty that Congress will go quietly into the night on this scandal.

Abramhoff sez he can implicate 60 politicians, and the Imperial Pwezidunt's Dept of Justice will assign one of Abranhoff's ol'-time corruption buds to lead the "prosecution". Sadly, it's a virtual certainty tht Congress will go quietly into the night on this scandal.

Bottom line: the Imperial Pwezidunt is now dictating to Congress and Congress has gone quietly into the night.

USA: RIP

!
An all-too-familiar "yeowling" broke the late-night's still air early this morning, sending chills down the spines of Secret Attack Squirrel's Early Warning Recon Group (EWRG): SAS's arch-rival and sworn enemy & one-eyed tom-cat nemesis, Black Jack Brisco, is back in town...with a new and terrifying feature...

re. Black Jack's twice-broken tail:

For reasons/causes unknown, the fur, skin and flesh of his most-rearward appendage is now all gone, stripped clean, thus leaving the horrifying skeletal remainder of tiny & sharp little spinal bones---all intact and fused together into a rigid weapon of indiscribable scariness in the form of a jagged lightening bolt. Upon first sight of that hair-raising spectacle, the EWRG scooted really fast back to SAS Global HQ to report this frightening development, only to be (initially) laughed out of the hanger-bay door.

But owing to a "serious bent" when it comes to intel'--albeit unconfirmed and of a seriously dubious nature--Secret Attack Squirrel scheduled and initiated an immediate lauch and within minutes, returned to base with confirmation: Brisco IS back, AND armed with a new and apparently perilous weapon of indeterminent efficacy.

So right now, there's a whole lot of anxious pacing & skin-rawing head-scratchin' goin on in the SAS G-HQ tree-house...the fleas are a-jumpin' and a-scurryin' for dear life! The coffee's boiling, Danish has been brought in and a deepthink-tank of chocolate-covered cherries is being filled with iced vodka and re-heated tomato juice (which is why the fleas are bailing out...NOW).

For you condi-seweres, the deepthink-tank mix-ratio: 6 gal vodka, 3 gal tom-juice, 2 qts tobasco sauce, one lb black pepper, a twelve-pack of celery stalks and one acorn on a stick for each tumbler...and we're certain they'll ALL be tumbling withing the hour!

CANNON BALL: Cowa-bunga, dudes!
!

;

An exhausted jet-fuel supply finally ended Secret Attack Squirrel's radical tail-spin maneuver, which led to these panting words: "I am not a happy squirrel this morning. I want coffee--decaf'--four aspirine, a bottle of gin...no, make that two bottles, a box of soda crackers & three cans of beans. And make it snappy thank you very much."

That was two hours ago and our valiant hero is just now getting back into some vague semblance of a usual & customary routine...ergo SAS's ERT has removed the retaining staple from Secret's tail and taken a guarded position at the SAS Global Headquarters hanger door--ready to scramble in the event of an accidental fartbomb release, which could come at any time, and without notice.

With one (crossed) eye taped shut, Secret Attack Squirrel has just turned to the usual and coustomary early-morning routine of blog-surfing is search of a mission that can be undertaken without leaving the SAS HQ tree-house; unfortunately, nothing along these lines has yet presented itself and Secret is becomming increasingly restless, which the Emergency Response Team finds increasingly alarming...they have since locked forepaws and are ready to pounce should the need arise, but one was overheard asking the other two, "Can't we just git while the gittin's good?"---one replied, "No," and the other said, "Can we vote on that?"...this third member of the ERT is the same as was lauched into the railroad yards yesterday and, fortuitously, landed in a carload of shredded W-House documents dating back to the beginning of the Plamegate investigation...it was a deep load.

Uh-oh...judging from experience, it would appear that Secret Attack Squirrel may be preparing for yet another.......
!

;
Repeatedly struck dumb by the Democratic Party's pitiful lack of [team-playing] inititive for hanging this pwezidunce with his own rope---and there's plenty enough to go around that scum-sucker's slimy neck several hundred times---Secret Attack Squirrel has slipped into a persistant state of staring blankly through crossed eyes. Needless to say, this condition is not conductive to safe navigation: neither in the air, on the ground, nor out on a limb. Therefore, SAS's Personal Safety Evaluation Panel (PSEP) not only grounded our intrepid super-hero, but went as far as inflicting enforced confinement to quarters...this has been achieved by stapling Secret Attack Squirrel's tail to the flight-hanger's wooden floor.

At first blush, Secret was unaware of this new-fangled restraint system and attempted an emergency take-off when that first staple pierced fur, skin and bone with one resounding "Whack" of the Stanley pro'-grade stapler---the ensuing, tightly-constricted circlular full-speed flight pattern has given new meaning to the term "tail spin", and the resultant sounds were, to put it kindly, remarkable!

Observing what appeared to be an emotional state of high panic with no immediate end in sight, one member of the SAS Emergency Response Team swung into action with a butterfly net, but, regrettably, Secret's hyper-velocity and super-hero thrust were so great that the ERT member was swept into the howling vortex so suddenly that the "quick release" was just a tad too slow and that unfortunate squirrel was last seen on a sweeping trajectory far over distant railroad tracks six bocks to the south...we can only hope he lands on soft ground.

Meanwhile, Secret Attack Squirrel's tail-spin rotation has slowed to a leisurely 42 rpm and now, all we can do is wait...presumably for the fuel to run out.

Cork-screws at eleven.

'
Still reeling from an unfortunate entaglement with a certain duck late last night--ie a bottle of Cold Duck--Secret Attack Squirrel is conducting operations closer to ground this morning, refering us to that sage advice for the functionally impaired: "Don't fly any higher than you're willing to fall."

But as luck would have it, there's not much goin on in the DC Beltway today anyhow: Congress is out of town and besides, it's Sunday, and New-Year's Day to boot. Also due to this auspicious occasion, duh wittow boy pwezidunce illegal/impeachable wire-tapping is currently in a cyclic sag...Secret Attack Squirrel was not the only one to suffer a run-in with the bubbly last night! And yet Secret remains on duty and perpetually vigilant, stating that, "There's nothing more dangerous than Bushco's war against drunk and/or hung-over dissenter/peace activists!" (ie. those who's Civil Liberties duh prezidunce is most interested in trampling on and silencing via unConstitutional acts against innocent US civilians.)

Additionally, owing to this once-a-year threat-to-the-Constitution slump, Secret Attack Squirrel has given the SAS Emergency Response Team (ERT) some badly-needed time off and with that in mind, is further exersizing super-heroic better judgement by not just staying closer to the ground, but in the immediate vacinity of the SAS Global Headquarter tree--the wisdom is clear: injuries suffered without the ready & most excellent aid of the ERT could prove disasterous, even fatal.

Finally, this just in from the SAS-OOS (the Secret Attack Squirrel-Oracle Observations Squad): cosmic indicators are indicative--that is highly suggestive--that Secret Attack Squirrel's guiding star is currently in nebulous decline, which can mean only one thing: DANGER! Of course, Secret already lives in a steady state of extreme danger, therefore the requisite response is merely one of a hightened awareness until this rare occulance of the Serendipity Significance Spiral reemerges at some mysteriously unpredictable time in the unknowable future.

Further developments will be reported as they arise.