n. infantile pattern of suckle-swallow movement in which the tongue is placed between incisor teeth or between alveolar ridges during initial stage of swallowing (if persistent can lead to various dental abnormalities) v. [content removed due to Bush campaign to clean up the internet] n. act of nyah-nyah v. pursuing with relentless abandon the need to masticate and thrust the world into every bodily incarnation in order to transform it, via the act of salivation, into nutritive agency

Thursday, April 19, 2007

our patience is limited

Having read the news on a regular basis for awhile now, I have to say that my least favorite American phrase is: "our patience is limited," which really makes me wonder what the word patience means anyway. But with Gonzales, I think it applies.

Dude, are you for real? How are you even possible?

How is it even possible to fall "back on faulty memory seventy-one times" and still claim that, "the notion that there was something that was improper that happened here is simply not supported." (hey, way too many clauses)

Um, if you don't remember what happened, how do you remember if something improper happened or not? As illustration:
1) I went to a party this weekend, during which I'm pretty sure I got piss-ass drunk (indicated by the fact that I took a cab home by myself for the first time in a year and a half). When I woke up in the morning, I rolled over and wondered if I had made an ass of myself. Oh! Of course! Since I don't remember most of my piss-assed evening, I must have done absolutely nothing to make an ass of myself. The pictures my roommate sent out were lying. The vague flickers of memory of me falling over while dancing were lying. And the thumb that was sprung from its joint, swollen and off-center, was lying. Absolutely nothing improper in a sprung thumb, a two-day hangover, and a faulty memory. Take that, American public.

2) Whenever I have told my mother, in response to her questions regarding whether I have washed the dishes or taken out the garbage, that "I don't remember," it really means of course I acted responsibly and with most propriety. Of course.

3) Pssssyah, memory and history. What does that really mean? I mean, I don't remember spending $20 on beer last week, $50 dollars on items I really don't need, or $2,000 dollars on a one-week vacation to Tahiti, so obviously my bank statement doesn't count. I don't remember having made decisions regarding the release of federal prosecutors who were pursuing cases against political allies, therefore there was nothing improper in my actions! Hooray. Hallelujah. Praise the Lord. Everything is Proper!
Ug, please, everything about the current GOP makes me want to regurgitate my liver (including the penetration through my intestinal lining, up past thirty or so feet via switchback, on into my stomach, and up and away through my bludgeoned esophagus, which the liver's vomiting might require).
Sprung Thumb. Didn't they rock the shit out of Woodstock sometime between Joplin and Hendrix? Does my memory serve me correctly? Or do I serve my memory incorrectly?
Also, a minor distraction from Gonzales' bloated pigheadedness:

European Starlings Kick The Arses of All Lesser Starlings
Aww, heck... www.nytimes.com/2007/04/22/magazine/22birds.t.html
you're right. gorgeous pics... and the article was hilarious: poetic mistakes, herding patterns of humans in stock market crashes, symphonies of cacophony... wish more essays looked at things this way.

see you soon. -bez
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