Captain, There Are Doubts
Oh Friends.
You may be surprised to hear our voice, but you won't be surprised to learn that we were not among the 45 million people who tuned in to Brave Captain's recent description of the "surge." Don't get us wrong: we have a greater-than-average ability to stare fuckwittitude in the face, as well as more-than-halting admiration for bald-faced, shit-house-rat craziness and delusions of every other stripe.
But recently, Friends, the suiciding and the homiciding and the burning and the raping and the murdering and the under-sentencing, well, it's starting to overwhelm even our seemingly infinite capacity for analysis. And the fact that they're not even really putting their heart into justifying it anymore, well....
And if the President is no longer trying to put together something even half-convincing, and if we no longer have the heart to indulge that twitchy corpse-fucker's murderous, demi-retarded soul-shrugging for even a few minutes on the teevee -- do you think we would have the heart to compose anything original?
Nope. You wouldn't. And you'd be right.
So what better time to reminisce about a time when MTV played music rather than beach-vollyball, even if they mis-spelled the band's name. Enjoy.
You may be surprised to hear our voice, but you won't be surprised to learn that we were not among the 45 million people who tuned in to Brave Captain's recent description of the "surge." Don't get us wrong: we have a greater-than-average ability to stare fuckwittitude in the face, as well as more-than-halting admiration for bald-faced, shit-house-rat craziness and delusions of every other stripe.
But recently, Friends, the suiciding and the homiciding and the burning and the raping and the murdering and the under-sentencing, well, it's starting to overwhelm even our seemingly infinite capacity for analysis. And the fact that they're not even really putting their heart into justifying it anymore, well....
And if the President is no longer trying to put together something even half-convincing, and if we no longer have the heart to indulge that twitchy corpse-fucker's murderous, demi-retarded soul-shrugging for even a few minutes on the teevee -- do you think we would have the heart to compose anything original?
Nope. You wouldn't. And you'd be right.
So what better time to reminisce about a time when MTV played music rather than beach-vollyball, even if they mis-spelled the band's name. Enjoy.
posted by Swill to Power at 12:43 AM
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