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calimary

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Member since: 2001
Number of posts: 54,843

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Welcome to DU, Augiedog!

Glad you're here! That sure does nail it. Made me think of that old protest sign - "War is Unhealthy for Children and Other Living Things." Take out the word "War" and substitute "Capitalism" and you've got another very accurate protest sign. "Predatory Capitalism" is even more specific. Or its synonyms - "Vulture Capitalism" and/or "Vampire Capitalism." Same thing. Just different adjectives.

Isn't that how Costco does it?

Well, the freakin' PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES makes $400,000 a year.

That job can also be regarded as the position of Most Powerful Man/Woman in the WORLD. And the yearly salary is less than half-a-million dollars.

Perhaps with income inequality being so ridiculously unbalanced, some drastic corrective measures just might be needed. It would be one thing if we had these obscene CEO salaries but everybody farther down the food chain at least had enough to eat every day, or had a secure roof over their head, or wasn't underwater in their mortgage, or didn't have to go to food pantries every week, or had to live in their cars. But this is freakin' RIDICULOUS, and it CANNOT be sustained. Actually, or morally. It is UNSUSTAINABLE. It is an obscenity. A disgrace! It is a freakin' SIN. Not just any ol' sin, either, but a Capital Sin - avarice (greed).

Holy Cow! LOVE it!!!

ROFL!!!

Rachel Maddow last night was talking about "slut-shaming."

They're gonna blame it on a woman scorned???? What? Oh sure she took it upon herself - to fuck personally with every commuter stuck on the George Washington Bridge for almost that whole September week, to go rogue because Bill Stepien dumped her? Like that has anything to do with anything?????

SHEESH. I hope she sings like Whitney Houston once did (in her prime, that is)! Y'know, they REALLY should not be fucking with her. MAN is the christie-apologist contingent "playing in traffic" with this one!!!

It was sweet, but not nearly as much of a smack down as I thought he deserved.

Still a little too elegant and gentlemanly. I wanna see issa's microphone cut off! Yanked would be better. Gerry Connolly was far too polite. Yeah, made his point and got it into the record, but probably went over the GOPers' heads, certainly in and out their ears. And he didn't save any of their souls either.

But then again, maybe most of 'em are beyond saving.

I like him too - as an activist. I greatly appreciate his heart.

And he started Farm Aid. And he gives a damn. I appreciate him and respect him greatly for his morals and his principles and his commitment to the little guy. And I think he's simply wonderful as a human being.

It's just that voice… GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!!! Agonizing!!!!

I'm not too keen on country music, I'm afraid. It is absolutely NOT my cup of tea. If al Qaeda ever wanted to torture me, they'd pretty much liquify me and get anything they wanted out of me if they forced me to listen to that. I dated a guy in college who was MAD for Hank Williams and "Little Audrey" and so forth. One night he put an album on called "Area Code 615." It was a compilation of songs played by some of the best session musicians in Nashville. Really prominent, highly-respected landmark artists who, I guess, have played with EVERYBODY by now. Musicians who were almost literally the platinum standard, about whom one would speak in hushed tones. I'm certain they're wonderful. I'm sure they're really nice people, too. Most country music folks are, and I met and interviewed quite a few of them while I was still working. And everybody I met WAS really nice and charming and friendly and genuine and well-mannered and truly very dear, and tremendously enjoyable to be around.

BUT Jesus, Mary, and Joseph - that stuff made me want to run screaming into the night! I just couldn't take it. One or two bars of that sickly, soupy pedal steel guitar and I was bleeding out my ears and my insides started calling me horrible names. Felt like all my skin was being sanded off my body and set on fire and that somebody had poured napalm into my brain. I couldn't get away from it fast enough. All I could do was grope around frantically for my purse and car keys so I could get the hell outta there!!!

Give me rock or Rat Pack, classical or smooth jazz, bluegrass or blues - or give me death. Forgive me. I'm really sorry I feel that way, because it's a legitimate American art form. But PLEEEEEEEZE no country music! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE!!!!!! Do not do that to me! Don't even threaten! Not EVER!!!!

Actually I liked the White House press conference in which President Obama

took questions from everybody BUT the hacks in the front row (jonathan "Collegiate Network" karl and chuck "it's not my job to correct the record or challenging a lie" todd). And at the end, he strolled off the little riser and left the room, with todd and karl gape-mouthed and blithering after they'd shouted and strained to get his attention so he'd call on them - all in vain. There was a third one in the front row too, who got ignored along with them, if I remember correctly. And it was MOST satisfying.

Welcome to DU, Hula Popper!

Glad you're here!

I finally checked the box on my driver's license agreeing to be an organ donor.

Previously, I just had a problem with it. Just weirdness on my part, but I had a problem with the whole idea. Couldn't help but envision this circling of medical vultures overhead, waiting impatiently for me to go so they could harvest whatever they needed - what if they decided to move the clock ahead a little and "help" me along?

Well, screw it. I turned 60 on my last birthday, and realized, hell, maybe I no longer mind the idea of being "helped" along. I don't want to live to an advancing age! There's no blessing or merit in that, after having watched my parents deteriorate and be kept alive artificially by herculean efforts and drugs and a whole laundry list of meds to take every hour, or every other hour, round the clock, and running up a ferocious tab on an effort that was bound to be futile. NO "quality" of life whatsoever. By their last days, both of them, they were "alive" in only the most generous figurative sense. That was no living! My dad was literally a piece of meat by the end.

Besides, I have this weird paranoia about being buried alive. I figure being an organ donor would be the easiest way to avoid that fate. Let 'em take whatever they want. Pick me clean!
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