Friday, April 13, 2007

Chopped Garlic: "Emails? We ain't got no emails! We don't need no emails! We don't have to show you any stinking emails!"...

I think we've used the Alfonso Bedoya line before, but it comes to mind listening to White House Assistant Press Secretary Dana Perino the past few days duck, dodge and stammer the absolute unbelievable drivel about the lost emails of the White House.

It seems the Bushies are more intent in giving their all for an audition on their, excuse me, the Fox News Network's "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?", when it, just on face value, appears to be a lot closer to, Judiciary Committee Chairman, Senator Pat Leahy (D-VT) assessment that "This sounds like the Administration’s version of the dog ate my homework."

Bush is going to get his surge all right, unknowingly challenging every high school hacker and 40-year-old burnt-out computer programmer, living in their parent's basement or garage, who, undoubtedly, have already begun their treasure hunt through the White House either nets, searching for the most embarrassing email they can find.

Some chat room or YouTube will likely see a Rove-penned smoking gun before Leahy does. Or maybe former Senator Rick Santorum, who, after all, did such a fantastic jog unearthing those much-heralded WMD's.

If all their crimes, lies, spins, smears and trampling of the Constitution, ignorance and arrogance against the democracy and the rule of law hasn't motivated the Congress to serve up some Articles of Impeachment, than this latest dust-up should.

They are taunting and laughing at the Congress, and the American people, on just how stupid they believe all of us to be.

They wrapping themselves, most absurdly, in the flag, citing only trying to comply to the Hatch Act, the preservation of presidential records, with tongue firmly implanted in cheek. It's Eddie Haskell, in a suit with a flag lapel pin, and an RNC email account in his back pocket.

And, if it works, if the Congress and people buy into this lame explanation, then it will be in short order they'll start the spin on their Iraq Disaster as having "lost the strategy and plans" for that. Their gall knows no bounds, in case you haven't noticed, they have been advertising for a Fall Guy for the Iraq Fiasco, via their search for a War Czar (and surprise, no takers).

We will likely soon be reliving the Nixon Administration, with the inevitable court battle over Executive Privilege regarding the Lost Emails (and boy, to be a fly on the wall for the oral argument over, not just Rove's string-pulling, but some WH Intern's Horoscope files being tied to National Security).

In fact, it shouldn't be a surprise if Bush revives his WMD comedy routine, and applies it to the Lost Emails.

Forget about the final days of his administration and Bush being a lame duck. We can drop the bird and just go with lame.

"Nope ... No emails here ...."

Thursday, April 12, 2007

So It Goes ... R.I.P Billy Pilgrim

A certain amount of irony today, with the media airwaves saturated with the firing of Don Imus (and with old white guy after old white trying to buck up their pal and downplay what an ass he has been) on the day the author and writer extraordinaire Kurt Vonnegut passes away.

Good thing, I suppose, there wasn't a new, breaking Anna Nicole Smith story ... It likely would have bumped both of them.

So It Goes ... R.I.P Billy Pilgrim


The Official Website of Kurt Vonnegut

Counterculture author, icon Kurt Vonnegut Jr. dies at 84

Wikipedia - Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut vs. the !&#*!@

Vonnegut's Apocalypse

Strange Weather Lately

Kurt Vonnegut's "Stardust Memory"

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Retro Garlic ... Must Be His Friends and Family Circle ...

Maybe they need his money-raising prowess to bail them out of ... Well, pick a scandal - Crony General Alberto Gonzalez and the "Just Us" Department fiasco? ... The super secret tree house email system that Rove & Co. used in the White House? ... Walter Reed Hospital and the troops that Bush is accusing the Democrats of abandoning? ...

It seems that the King of K Street may be footloose and fancy free in the not-so-distance future.

NBC News reported today that - and at the request of the government - a federal judge may grant a new hearing, to reduce the sentence of Jack Abramoff, as a reward for his cooperation.

NBC News Story

NBC: Abramoff could get reduced sentence; Judge grants request for new hearing, rewarding lobbyist for cooperating

And, back in November 06, on The Garlic ...

Top Ten Cloves: Ways Jack Abramoff Will Gain Favors While In Prison

Or maybe, they're just trying to distract us again.


Retro Garlic - The Iraq Jar

Monday, April 09, 2007

Top Ten Cloves: Things Don Imus Will Do During His Suspension

News Item: Don Imus Is Punished With Two Weeks of Radio Silence

10. Now has the time to go over and help Crony General Alberto Gonzales practice for his Senate testimony

9. Have lunch, or a drink, with Contessa Brewer

8. See if he can take a quick course, or two, at Rutgers

7. Practice his democracy by going over to Baghdad and protesting, with all those ragheads, against Bush

6. Get that paternity test, to, once and for-all, determine if Opie his illegitimate son

5. Go hunting with Mitt Romney

4. Make it a fun two-weeks; Start a rumor that Tim Hardaway is gay

3. Call up Michael Richards and see if he wants to hang out ... Maybe catch a Mel Gibson film

2. Check her schedule and pray that Ann Coulter has another speech real soon

1. If Rachel Ray can do it, so can I; Imus to plan prom for Rutgers seniors

Reports indicate that MSNBC and CBS Radio broke the news of the two-week suspension to Imus by temporarily retitling his radio program to "Imus Not In The Morning"

Sunday, April 08, 2007


"Now let me get this straight ...”, He continued. “You take chicken eggs ... color them different colors after you’ve - what did you say you did, hard-boiled them? - and then you hide the eggs out on your lawn and send little children out to find them?”

Sheepishly, I acknowledged His assessment. Before I could change this nose-diving conversation, He stared at me disbelievingly.

“Is there more?”

“Well ... ehhh ... Chocolate companies and Hallmark Cards have kinda jumped on the bandwagon too ...”

What was I going to say? I couldn’t lie to the guy! Besides, I had a hangover that showed me about as much mercy as an infomercial full of insurance salesman. The last thing I expected to deal with on Easter Sunday morning was to find Jesus Christ Himself lying on my living room floor.

He sipped his Ovaltine and sat quietly for a moment. Almost an hour had passed since I stumbled out from my bedroom and shouted “Jesus Christ”, only to receive an affirmative response. Now I found myself obsessed with what I was going to serve Him for breakfast.

He had discoursed - an none too clearly at that - in metaphysical terms on His sudden appearance in my home. It involved some sort of time-space continuum that essentially came down to the “UP” mechanism malfunctioning. He indicated that it has happened before but that He never landed in this time era.

I hope you don’t mind, but they like for me to stay wherever I’ve transported to. It makes it easier to work out the problem”.

What was I going to do - tell Him He had to leave? That I was busy? I still hadn’t figured out what He looked like. He had the duende of a William Holden but at a closer, studied glance, He seemed more like a larger, Harry Dean Stanton-type. He could have used a shave but nothing like the most common depiction’s of Him.

With the notion of winning a lot of bar bets, or getting Kresgan-like billing on the talk show circuit, I began to think of some questions that He could give me the inside dirt on. Like, whose idea was it to put sand in the hourglass and how did they know that it was one hour?

Or what about the speculation that is was actually the dog salivating that made Pavlov ring the bell?

“You don’t really expect me to do something like that, do you?", he asked in a very disapproving tone.

Before I could dwell on the implications of His unsolicited response, I choked with panic at the thought of my girlfriend strolling out of the bedroom. Raised eyebrows followed me to the bedroom door as I inched over to see that it was closed. As a distraction, I decided to test Him.

“How do I know You are who You say You are?”

“Ohhh boy I knew this would come up sooner or later.”

“What was Rosebud?”

“A sled”.

“Who”, I asked as I secured the bedroom door, “killed Sean Regan?”

“The Big Sleep? - Book or movie?”, He retorted sharply, the glint in His eye told me He knew.

“All right then ... Who’s gonna win the World Series this year?”


“Hey, I thought I’d sneak one in there, ya know ... So ... Ahhh ... Would it be, like ... uncool or whatever ... to ask you to ... You know .... Do something?”

He rolled his eyes and let out a long, deep breath.

“Why should you be any different than the others .. What? Hailstones? ...Locusts? ... The ever-boring thunder-and-lightening routine! ... I wish that once, just once, someone would ask me for something really special - Like a perfect Tango! ... Something!”

“I don’t know then, surprise me”.

“Careful”, He half-laughed. “Remember who you’re saying that to ... You’d be in awe of how many people actually ask for locusts - and always on someone else’s property”.

He sat silently and gazed about the room. No chants. No arm-waving. No earth-moving.

He just sat there and, after a few moments, He stood up.

“Okay, let’s go check”, He announced indifferently.

He led me to my washing machine and motioned for me to open the lid. I couldn’t believe it!

It was filled with socks! Single socks! All colors, sizes, patterns - every sock I ever lost in my life! I turned to say something but He was making his way back to the living room, confidently whistling a little ditty and with a pronounced swagger in His step.

“So”, He said rather coolly, “What else do I have to do around here to get something to eat?”

I apologized profusely and went scurrying to the kitchen. Warding off any meat controversies, I settled on waffles. My hangover was calling for a batch of Bloody Mary’s but I wasn’t sure how that would go over. While preparing breakfast, I could hear Him poking around the living room.

“Try me again”, He shouted “What year is this?”

“Ah, two-thousand-seven, A.D. ... Ehh ... I mean ... You know ... After you ...”

“I see ... Do you have one of those television things that everybody seems to be talking about?”

Forgetting myself, I walked into the living room, handed him the remote control, and walked back into the kitchen. After a few minutes - and not hearing any sounds - I peered into the living room and found Him holding the remote in His hands - staring at it intently.

“Remarkable little thing”, he said noticing me. “But I’m not quite sure that I get it”.

I rushed in and gave Him directions. He was enthralled, flicking away and making His rookie, channel-surfing run. He would study a channel for a few moments before powering onward. And as I went back into the kitchen, I couldn’t help but to notice that there was really something innate and universal to the remote control - He was making like a veritable Luke Skywalker, zapping and shooting at the television.

I continued cooking and suddenly I heard the voice of one of those fire-and-brimstone evangelists booming out. He slowly walked into the kitchen, still with his eyes on the television set.

“Is this what it has come to?”, he asked.

Before I could answer, He raised his hand about waist-high, changed the channel with the remote and walked discontentedly back into the living room. I finished preparing our plates and joined Him.

He was watching a roll call replay on C-SPAN and without taking his eyes off the television, He remarked how the political spectrum hadn’t really changed that much.

“I do have a little experience in dealing with special interests”, He said rather matter-of-factly.

Next, we sat in on the world of WWF Wrestling, which totally baffled Him. After the perfunctory 30-second glance, a flick-of-the-wrist delivered us to the monotone voice of Mr. Spock, pontificating to Captain Kirk. I cleared the plates as He settled into Star Trek.

“You know”, He shouted, referring to the program, “I believe I recognize the parable they’re trying to tell here”.

Abruptly, He began screaming “That’s it! That’s it!” Kirk and company had gotten themselves into some sort of ridiculous trouble and they were calling for Scotty to beam them up.

He ran into the kitchen excitedly.

“I’ve been using the wrong code”, He panted. Noticing the look on my face, He added; “C’mon, like it’s never happened to you - right!”

He thanked me and then hurried back into the living room. In the few seconds it took for me to follow Him, He was gone.

I did a frantic double-check – the hallway, closets even the washing machine - but He was gone. I slumped into the sofa, wondering if anyone would believe me. Kirk and crew were safely aboard with Spock making some profound observation about their experience. The remote control lay in the middle of the floor.

As Spock spoke, a gust of wind rattled the windows and my bedroom door slowly creaked open. I watched anxiously but it was my sleepy-eyed girlfriend emerging, wearing one of my shirts and a Chicago Cubs baseball hat I know I didn’t own.

The Chicago Cubs? No way ... Couldn’t be ...

- 30 -

J. Thomas Duffy
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