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WASHINGTON, DC (AFA NewsWire) A panel of psychiatrists today diagnosed the U.S. Congress as being, by any standard of measure, "Batshit insane."
The group of distinguished psychologists was gathered in the nation's capitol for a symposium on the topic, "Exponential Growth of Cognitive Dissonance as a Factor in Public Policy Decision Making."
"It was while we were reviewing the last couple of years' transcripts and tapes from the Congressional Record, and members of the House of Representatives' remarks to the press and the public," said the panel's spokesman Dr. Gerald Bostock, Director of Psychiatry at the Cleveland Clinic, "That they voted to repeal Obama Care [the Affordable Care Act] for the 33rd time, despite knowing full well that, like the 32 times before, the bill would die in the Senate."
"Soon after, Michelle Bachman and four colleagues called for an investigation into alleged Muslim infiltration of the State Department," continued Bostock, "Joe McCarthy and Roy Cohn must be yucking it up in hell right now."
"Even given the lunacy we've come to expect from this bunch, they've now gone way beyond merely dysfunctional," Bostock intoned, gravely.
"Any mental patient that repeats the same behavior over and over again, expecting a different result is a prime candidate for institutionalization," he said, shaking his head in dismay, "But, thirty three times! And knowing it won't work? That's just . . ." Bostock paused, searching for the right words, "Fucking nuts."
The panel's art therapist, after viewing the doodles made by members of congress, visible from enlargements of footage recorded by C-Span cameras, was found curled up in the fetal position muttering, "The horror, the horror. . ."
The panel's written report recommends that the entire congress be ". . . locked up with the key thrown away. . . to remain heavily medicated and under constant supervision, until such time as they no longer present such a clear and present danger to the people they're supposed to be representing."
"Frankly, I don't give a damn."
The knife came down, missing him by inches,
and he took off.
"God bless us, everyone!"
"So long, and thanks for all the fish."
"There's no place like home!"
"Well, I'm back," he said.
"Go the F*** to sleep."
“Now vee may perhaps to begin. Yes?”
The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years.
All was well.
"Yes," I said, "Isn't it pretty to think so?"
zymosan: an insoluble largely poly-saccharide
fraction of yeast cell walls.
And they all lived happily ever after.
7. If the aliens are wearing fanny packs and waiting in line at the Times Square TKTS booth, they're probably just in town for the weekend. However, if they don't get in to see The Book of Mormon or didn't realize that Cats isn't still playing on Broadway, they might vaporize the neighborhood in retribution.
6. Illegally parked alien craft should not be towed to the vehicle impound lot at Pier 76 in Manhattan, they should instead be taken to the vehicle impound lot at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
5. Subways, PATH, LIRR and Metro North trains will run on or close to their regular weekday schedules; except for any line(s) that use tunnels the aliens have chosen for nesting and/or abductee-probing. Those lines will run on a weekend/holiday schedule. Expect delays.
4. If they ask you "How do you get to Carnegie Hall", don't get cute, just give them the directions.
3. Alternate side of the street parking rules will be suspended until such time as our new alien overlords command us to reinstate them (appx 5-to-7 days).
2. The ban on smoking indoors is to be rescinded and replaced with, "Smoke 'em if you got 'em".
1. Whether there's another secret chapter on how to deal with zombie invasions or Mayan-style apocalypse.
An Ant Farmer's Valentine's Day Classic!
A Groundhog Day classic from 2009 (based on actual events!).
We checked their forecasts against a Magic 8-Ball, then waited for the end of the year to see who got what right.
Read the results here, on the website for our book The 2012 Doomsday Planner: The Official Unauthorized Makeover of the Mayan Calendar.
Flaccid Rock: Mopey pop music subset/derivation of "soft rock" (aka "Adult Contemporary"), characterized by whiny vocalizations and self-pitying lyrics, often accompanied by acoustic instrments and typically lacking distinctive percussion, bass lines or any of the gritty self-awareness, raw emotional expression/release or humor usually found in Blues, R&B, Soul or even Country music. See Seals & Croft, Loggins & Messina, Cat Stevens, etc.
Perrytonitis: Symptoms include one-third memory loss, tying up of or tripping over the tongue, confused and contradictory thinking, preternaturally good hair, irresistible homicidal impulses. If condition persists past the Iowa caucuses, consult your doctor.
NEW YORK (AFA NewsWire) A recent CBS News poll shows only 9% of Americans approve of the way congress is doing its job. Upon further investigation it was revealed that this 9% consists entirely of the members of congress themselves, their families, office and household staffs, campaign contributors, lobbyists and the writing staffs of late night comedy shows.
WASHINGTON, DC (AFA NewsWire) Inspired by Rand Paul's recent denial of any link between air pollution and asthma, Michelle Bachman now says that the visible curvature of the earth as photographed from outer space is not proof the world is round, asserting instead, "That just shows it's a round flat disc, like a coin," and vows that as president she will build a reinforced concrete barrier underneath the U.S. to prevent any Chinese attempt to tunnel in from the other side.
"He's the biggest liability we've got," says an anonymous high-ranking Cain campaign staffer, "We've kept this guy in contention for way longer than anyone expected, but every time he opens his mouth, we lose support and financing; we've come too far to let him blow it for us now."
"In 2008, it was all about pigs in lipstick," the staffer continues, "This time around, it's pigs with wings, and the longer we can keep this one in the air, the better," adding, "And believe me, in this shitty economy, having 'Can Make Pigs Fly' is a handy thing to have on your resume."
LAS VEGAS (AFA NewsWire) CNN has announced that the next debate of Republican presidential candidates will be moderated by comic Drew Carey, former host of the improvisational comedy show, Whose Line Is It, Anyway? and currently the host of The Price is Right.
Carey insists his participation isn't politically motivated, despite his outspoken Libertarianism. "This is strictly about showbiz," laughs the comic, "The kind of crazy-ass stuff this bunch comes up with is pure comedy gold," he says, adding, "Bad for the country, sure, but damned entertaining."
CNN spokesman Dan Undah explained the format change this way, "Look, our research shows the only reason people are watching these things is in the hope of catching some looney policy proposal, another eyebrow malfunction or maybe that one of the candidates starts speaking in tongues," he continued with a shrug, "We've just tailored the program to viewers' preferences."
The studio will be arranged like the set of Whose Line, with the candidates seated in low-backed swivel chairs instead of standing behind podiums, and Carey will be at a desk onstage.
It isn't known whether the debaters will be expected to respond to suggestions from the audience, although a spokesman for Michelle Bachman acknowledges that the congresswoman has been meeting with advisors about what to do if she has to be "stuck in an elevator" with Mitt Romney and Herman Cain.
Producers would neither confirm or deny that the candidates will arrive onstage together in a tiny car, then emerge from it one by one.
Mitt Romney: 1959. With a pompadour straight from Efram Zimbalist, Jr.'s 77 Sunset Strip days, Romney embodies the look, if not the spirit, of that brief, shining moment between the Eisenhower and Kennedy eras. This period is a proven winner with advertisers aiming for the aging Baby Boomer demographic as well as with those among the Greatest Generation who are still allowed to drive.
A Romney presidency might singlehandedly bring back Brylcreem, if not huge tailfins on cars. Whether his policies would prove him the sort of Eisenhower Republican Rachel Maddow longs for isn't clear, but his haircut is a damn good start. Happy Days is here again. Again.
Rick Perry: 1836-1846. We can picture Perry fitting right into that thrilling decade when Texas was an independent republic, making it all up as they went along, picking and choosing among the bits and pieces of the U.S. constitution they liked and ditching anything that wasn't met with enthusiastic yelps of "Yeeeehaaaaaw!" and random gunfire.
Michelle Bachman: 1429. Like Joan of Arc, who was at her peak that year, Bachman burns with a fiery passion. Both claim to have been called by God to save their respective nations; Joan to deliver France from the English, Michelle to cleanse America of homosexuals, vaccinations, taxes and anything else she that's just a little too secular for her taste. And, at least in the case of the retardation-inducing vaccines, Bachman, like the Maid of Orleans, tends to hear voices no one else can.
If she's not careful, though, Bachman's presidential path might too closely follow Joan's career arc; having rallied the troops, built up morale and won key battles, once her usefulness is over, she could get hung out to dry by those whose power she helped secure.
Ron Paul: 1757. Paul's call for America to return to self-reliance without any pesky government interference puts us in mind of James Fenimore Cooper's Last of the Mohicans. That is, the libertarian paradise that was colonial-era upstate New York. In this eden lives Deerslayer (aka Natty Bumpo, aka Leather-Stocking, aka Hawkeye, aka Pathfinder; hey, it's the frontier, you can call yourself whatever you want). He roams the wilderness with his indian pals, slaying deer and what-not, free from all the bothersome rules, regulations, taxes and indoor plumbing of so-called civilized society. This idyll is rudely interrupted when both of the governments waging the French and Indian Wars (along with attendant indians) show up and start trampling all over his individual rights, to say nothing of what they do to the Mohicans (spoiler alert in the book's title).
Newt Gingrich. 1866. 1866 providing the Confederacy had won the Civil War. Otherwise, any point in time the antebellum American south.
Herman Cain, Rick Santorum, John Huntsman, Buddy Roemer, Tom Miller, Jimmy McMillan, Andy Martin, Fred Karger, Gary Johnson, Vern Wuensche: 2013. They can go back to whatever they were doing before the campaign and add to their list of hobbies showing up on TV to scold us about how we wouldn't be in such a mess if we'd elected them. They should start reciting the phrase, "As I said in my presidential campaign..." in front of the mirror every morning as soon as possible.
Withdrawn But Not Forgotten
Sarah Palin: 1898-1901. Even the coy manner in which she teased us for so long over "will she or won't she" run reinforces our image of Palin as a boomtown saloon girl during the Alaskan Gold Rush entertaining horny miners in some Klondike clip joint. Her flirty ways and sassy talk would keep 'em buying drinks until they got fresh enough that she had to either make it clear she wasn't 'that kind of girl' or name her price. Like voters today, if those lovesick miners didn't have the nuggets, they had to make do with nearest pig in lipstick.
Donald Trump: 1984. That Trump's self-delusions of grandeur would become his most prominent feature isn't news now, but in 1984, few suspected he would go so far around so many bends. In '84, he was 38, a young millionaire on the make and, having profited from New York City's default years, was busily buying up Atlantic City at bargain basement prices. Not yet dubbed "The Donald," Trump was featured — unironically! — on the cover of GQ that year, his hair still looking more-or-less something like actual human hair. And, so far as we know, he had no apprentices. Five years from his first bankruptcy and still with his first wife, the only dark cloud on Trump's golden boy horizon was his ownership of the USFL's New Jersey Generals. Good times.
I have. And since my retirement was announced, there've been a lot of jokes about how I'll spend more time hollering at kids to get out of my front yard. I don't get that. Is this really a thing that happens? I've never had kids on my lawn, much less had to holler at them to get off of it and I've been an old guy for a really long time now.
Maybe it's because retired guys are home at times of the day when everyone else is at work, and that's when kids go around traipsing on other peoples' lawns. Then again, if that was the case, why haven't housewives been throwing kids off their lawns for years? Maybe they're too busy being desperate or something, I don't know.
Besides, all the kids in my neighborhood have their own lawns; why would they stand on mine? Or maybe I should be insulted that they don't. It's a nice lawn. I pay someone good money to keep it tidy, and he does a very nice job. Then again, I've never looked at any lawn — even one way nicer than mine — and thought, "Gee, I'd really like to go stand on that."
Anyway, I guess I'll know soon enough whether retiring suddenly makes you more territorial about your front yard. Once I'm officially a retiree, I plan to sit out on the porch and see if any kids show up on my lawn. If they do, I won't holler at them, I'll just ask them if this is their idea of a good time and if it is, I'll feel kind of sorry for them.