Today, on the 30th anniversary of John Lennon’s tragic death, the U.S. Senate voted to convict articles of impeachment on a federal judge - only the eighth federal judge to hold such a dishonor.Thomas Porteous was impeached by the House.

Considering the filthy, fucking congressional pigs that keep being censured for lying, stealing, not reporting income and funneling scholarship money to their own family members – What exactly does it take to get impeached? House prosecutors argued that the 63-year-old judge had a gambling problem and began accepting cash and other favors from people with business before his court. He also
was accused of lying to Congress and filing for bankruptcy under a false name and lying to the Senate during his confirmation.

Here is a kicker for you. One of the congressmen that voted to impeach this fat-fuck, Alcee Hastings, is himself a previously impeached judge. Where the fuck is Alanis Nadine Morissette when you need her?

Oh, what the hell – John Lennon will do.

Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world...

“Imagine” all you want asshole. Just remember Socialism is a failure and the greedy bastards that keep slinging shit to you – be it from the tea partyers – or the progressive elitists telling you they are going to change everything and lining their pockets every step of the way.

Contrast that with the capitalist Beatle…

Bippity Boppity Boop…

Baby I’m Amazed…She Loves You…(shaking head back and forth) Wooooo

Band on The Run…

Thanks for coming out…It’s been an honor to be in Moscow tonight…blah…blah…blah…that’ll be $500!!

Hey Shithead! They are all money grubbing assholes. Remember John and Yoko strolling around Central Park with him wearing that ridiculous mink coat? Yeah, he wasn’t doing Farm Aid, but….

Oh, No! It wasn’t little John Lennon’s fault. It was that cunt Yoko Ono.

And don’ forge that cock wad Richard Nixon that tried to have Lennon deported, so that John couldn’t get all of the newly suffragetted 18 year old potheads to vote Nixon out of office. Then we could have had that progressive Hubert Humphrey as our president. He was a peacenik, kind-hearted servant of the people, right?

Hey – even the half-retarded sacker at the local Kroger can hum a few bars of Give Peace A Chance. You’re still not getting a tip Mongo!! At least he doesn’t have the misconception that his vote matters like the most of the rest of you activists.

Adolf Hitler became chancellor of Germany on January 20, 1933. Less than a month later - Yoko Ono was born. Coincidence?

You be the judge. Maybe I will impeach your dumb ass at some future date!

Oh, and lastly, how many Senators, Congressmen and Presidents have been convicted of impeachment articles brought against them? That would be zero! And you don’t have to “imagine” jack shit!


Your ever-so-humble, over-cussing writer just clicked another mile on the odometer of life several weeks back!! As Randy Newman said in an underly-exuberant Oscar winning rant, “Thanks, but I don’t want your pity!”

I just want my farts back!! Is that so wrong?

I really don’t care about compromising the ozone layer!!

Call me a selfish flatulist!!

Don’t you get it?

Didn’t think so - you myopic infant.

If you have the patience to waste a few minutes of your life away – I will explain.

Used to be that Old Dan Cedar whimsically flatulated my life away.

Oh, the carefree joy of confidently slipping one out!

Whether driving down the highway, sitting on the couch, or bumping my right cheek up in the air – in perfect rhythm to a favorite Foghat song on my old AM radio.

Shortly prior to my latest birthday – a few thousand drums of oil began gushing from the ocean floor in the Gulf of Mexico. I closed my eyes, said a little prayer, and blew out the candles. I made the unfortunate blunder of focusing too much of my attention on getting my wish to come true and not adequately controlling my sphincter.

You see – Old Dan – likes
to drink Dr. Pepper - which, as some of you may know, acts as a pooprodesiac!

Well, it does in MY Gulf, anyway!

I gingerly separated from my overly-addled flour and sugar-candled receptacle and headed to the sanctity of myBemis-Throned Fortress of Solitude. And while my family has – for years – personally accounted for nearly 7 percent of the Imodiummarket share – this was something all-together new. There was no capping this well! Apparently, the once strong, cement casing around my anus was not properly forged and had worn down over time.

I have tried all sorts of plugs, but none has sufficed.

By weeks’ end – I was down
4 pairs of undies, 2 pairs of shorts and 1 pair of dress slacks.

Bibs Detroit was none-too-happy about the soylence green and black that had infiltrated my once-whitey tighties!

For some it’s bran muffins, for others it’s coffee. For Old Dan – it’s Dr. Pepper.
And once one has lost that confident certainty that whatever is squeaked out rectally will be a gas and not a liquid…Let’s just say that it’s kind of like that pitcher that has never given up a home run. Then he gives up three in a row. And now, doesn’t even want to throw another pitch!

Coprophagy – is defined as a person that likes to eat shit! (e.g. someone that voted for Barack Obama).

Unfortunately, if this person does exist in the world – he could no longer EAT shit - if he was counting on me for sustenance.

He would have to suck it through a straw. And considering that diarrhea is mostly water…

Anyway, I have repeatedly tried to cap this well. I have had James Cameron, Kevin Costner and Barack Obama – all devise contraptions to cork my blow hole.

The utter triumvirate…Avatar, Waterworld, and Old Dan Cedar’s Ass!

But, in the end, my messiahs only further made a mess.

And this has gone on – for more than 80 days!!

I guess sometimes you need to do more than close your eyes, make a wish and blow out the candles.

Strike one, two and three…

And there is no joy in Mudville!!!

A Voice of Reason – Finally!!

An Open Letter to Old Dan Cedar and King Hippo and Ian Specter and Abzug:

The fairer sex has postmundanely landed on this Penile Planet of Pestilence.

WE are no longer YOUR servants. I know that you want to bring back those pre-suffragette days and probably a few Jim Crow laws, too.

Backhanded belittling will NO LONGER be silently tolerated.

From this day forward a riposte will be delivered from the honorable Susan B. Anthony lectern from which I will – not so gently - harangue.

And this I can guarantee - There will be NO Keith Olbermann lame-ass opinions, bereft of any sense or sensibility.

In the past, only eunuchs have prosecuted their prepubescent, nearly infantile, tirades on the unsuspecting perusers of negativity previously posted on this website.

No More.

I am here to speak TRUTH to POWER.

And while technically none may be a eunuch – This strip-poker playing “Pussy” had the “privilege” of seeing Old Dan Cedar, King Hippo, Ian Specter and Abzug exposed - after an epic, ass-whipping by a far superior, androgynous ‘5 Card Stud’ intellect thrust forth on their middle-aged rectums.

Gentlemen, I am here to let the world know – I have seen your reproductive shafts and they are no match for the chasm of my labia or the span of my clitoris.

I am here to give counter-weight to the ‘justice is blind’, right-winged lunatic fringe that perpetually encourages my countrywomen and men to take up arms, voices, and emails against our rightfully elected leaders while assisting zealot rogues climb atop The New York Times bestseller list.

But mark my words - YOU purveyors of prejudice and intolerance - We are NOT going back to the days when women were dictated as to how we protect our bodies from the penile buckshot that you, so haphazardly semenate in our direction. God Bless The United States Supreme Court!!

Out of the back alley and into the front. Praise Jesus!!

The day will come when I join The View and will take my leave of you.

But until that day – You Quasi-Literate Pedophiliac Dregs of Society better PUCKER UP YOUR PECKERS.

There is a new sheriff in town and she doesn’t need a strap-on!!

The Democrat has landed, so turn down your Beltones – Boys!!

Can I hear an Amen?

- Lady SpamaLot

Old Dan Cedar's Mailbag

Howdy neighbor:
I am just going through my mail bag over the last few weeks for our National Sarcasm Association (NSA). For those that think this is just a bunch of laptop toting, right-winged fringed zealots, trying to keep jack-booted government thugs from destroying our first amendment rights to free speech — this bag is for you!!

Yep, kind of like Ol’ Saint Nick — Old Dan Cedar gets a lot of mail.
My old lady, Bibs Detroit, has been kind enough to sort it out for me - since I am just too gosh darn important to piddle with the minutiae that life mails me.

Look what we have here – it is a stack of Month of….mailings. You know the kind where some lame-ass left or right winged-group has brow-beat some hedonistic president or another into taking the time of The Most Important Man in the World to endorse their cause.

Here is one that just came in!

Seems that June was officially the LGBTP month.
I don’t know how good you are at acronyms, but this one didn’t come quickly to mind. Belated -Happy Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Pride Month.
Hard to believe that mouthful was spunked forth by President Clinton in 2000 - bestowing such an honor on a distinguished group of Americans that truly is just looking to be like the rest of us.

Certainly not their fault they’ve got the AID circulating amongst ‘em. These folk need a month they can truly call their own. And it’s certainly not their fault that they don’t have never-ending-longings for the opposite sex’s genitalia as do I.

Hopefully, one day they can get their just reward for god makin’ ‘em like this – and not just from Mr. Rodham.

Damn me for not knowing this and missing a chance to support my fellow, libertarian Cock and Clit Suckers parade.

But, there is always next June.

Nothing for July.

How about September?
September is NADARM.
This one here hits a little close to home. Hang on!!
Old Dan is trying to choke down a 750mg Oxycontin.
It’s National Alcohol and Drug Addiction Recovery Month as set forth by none other than the Tee Totaling Texan - President George W. Bush.
Well – at least they won’t have to look too far for a celebrity spokesperson.

Up next. Now here is another one.
Oooopppsss!! There seems to be some duplicity here.
Well, seems that we can thank a Republican for this one, too.
September is National Sewing Month thanks to Ronald Reagan for his all-American co-opted, wrap yourself in Betsy Ross’s kindred spirited arms.
A proclamation set forth in 1982.
So, when you see that your kids have a hole in their pants - just think back to those glory days when a white actor was in the White House and Jesse Jackson was raking in less than 3% of the vote.

Good Times!!
Makes me want to sew one for The Gipper.

And last but not least –
We have Gynecological Cancer Awareness Month – chalk another one up to that great American second President Bush – I couldn’t make this shit up - if I tried.

Maybe I will scurry over to the internet to edify myself.

‘Seems as tho’ Old Dan can help out by running a half-marathon or playing in a golf tourney to raise-awareness – and of course, money.

Hmmm, Interesting…

I will just click on this here website to see – Am I at Risk?

And if I click here, I can find Famous People with Ovarian Cancer.

Now, I know what you moral relativists are saying….
‘Dan, you just stepped over the line of how a well-spun-yarn by Andy Rooney might have tastily ended from the left-winged media elitists at CBS.

As usual – we NSA members are again under attack by the leftist fascists.
Fascists Hypocritical Fucks they are - as usual - more than happy to support free speech unless they disagree with it.

I have only five words for you as I raise my laptop above my head.
Especially for you, Mr. Obama -

The Truth …as I see it.

Which, of course, is how it actually is…

Michael Jackson — The King of Pop — had given us his best thrill.

Farrah Fawcett — The Queen of T and A — had given us her comeliest gaze.

David Carradine — The King of Kung Fu — had kunged his best fu.

Ed McMahon — The King of Banality — had… actually spent all of that money??? WTF???

Billy Mays — The King of Scream was, well… I’m sure he was a very nice fella.

It’s just a little hard to believe he was hypertensive…

You see how easy it is to get into? I am writing a critique on the cult of personality and yet, it’s fascinating — at some, moronic, inane level.

Our pop obsessed culture, once-again, reared its ugly head this past week.

The 24 hour news stations, once-again, had something to say.
Even if was the same thing over and over, again and again.

If one more person looks at me with those puppy dog peepers or posts on my Facebook page, “It’s so sad, RIP _________!!”
I will personally rip out one of my testicles with an old, rusty pair of pliers and summarily shove it down his overly sympathetic gullet.

Don’t worry — I’ve had my tetanus shot. I will be fine.

Our culture’s values are completely FUBAR!!

When people start posting their laments on Facebook regarding the nurse that held and soothed a laboring mother’s hand (until the obstetrician moseyed in to catch the baby and cash the check), or the coach of their kid’s Junior Varsity Foosball Team, or their hard working postman or their priest that helped them through a difficult time in life, - then we will at least be moving in the generally correct direction.

But as long as American Idol, Porn, Reality TV, Howard Stern, and People Magazine are top of mind — we will continue our pursuit of Pop Psychos of the Month — and that Log Cabin Republican imbecile Shepard Smith will be ready to shout, “Breaking News… this just in from Los Angeles!!!”


So, when the next Heath “Fiercely Intelligent” Ledger or Anna Nicole “Amply Befuddled” Smith interrupt your dull, bane existence…

…Make it a point to tell someone that REALLY matters — how much you appreciate them and that you hope they don’t overdose on Oxycontin or get Anal Cancer.

There is an American Idiot Genie trying to disseminate from the very core of every one of us.

But it’s up to each of us to try and get that Genie back in the bottle.
Here is to hoping that Ron Popeil has one more patent left in him.

Scratch that —

Here is to hoping that this website can reach a Critical Mass of Morons that find us quasi-engaging. If you can stand to get twice monthly updates of this electronic rag — email me.

As for selling your information to outsiders — IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN!!

Just remember, I have more integrity in the entrails of my toe jam than you have in your entire genetic codification.

If you choose not to partake, no worries.
I still have one extra testicle hanging for you.
Open up, Buttercup!!

Happy Earth Day, Asshole!!

That was my headline that I had planned all along. Turns out – the joke is on me – not just the American and world public, at large. I will get back to my dilemma in a moment.

My day begins. I sit down enjoying my morning bottle of Bud Light to chase down the nearly inedible Grape Nuts that I am choking down as my own personal tribute to our lovely, soiled planet this morning, and what do I see NBC’s Today show program splattered-in?

What a surprise!! Green!!

Fucking Green!!

It is Earth Day!! Yay!! Had I known about this 48 hours in advance – I would have asked to take a floating holiday.


Feeling the need to give a little nitrogen back to Mother Earth – I proceed to the sanctity of my Bemis Throned Fortress of Solitude and pull out the Daily Rag. As I peruse the front page headlines of the day, Two jump out.

Story number one. Of course - Breaking News – It’s Earth Day!!


Story number two. Fortune magazine has ranked the deepest septic tanks of greed. The top 5 are filled with some oldies, but goodies. Three of them are behemoth giant oil companies. Not a surprise, given the ass-fucking they gave us in ’08. Also, the pride of Bentonville and sweat shop owners the world over- Wal-Mart broke into the Cesspool de Cinco.

Then, there it is – sitting at number 5. GE. General Electric. Parent company of who?
Oh, yeah, N.B. fucking C. The guys who are so “disturbed” that the earth is being destroyed by all the carbon emissions out the front door. And out the back door are selling us millions of wind turbines.

As Woodward and Bernstein said, “Follow the money!!”

Here is a headline for you kids – NBC and GE, and for that matter, every other company out there is trying to sell you something!!

Which is fine – just don’t brainwash my kids with your Save the Earth – Buy a Windmill – load of crap. And here is a prediction for you. In 30 or 40 years, when all of the turbines have been sold that can be – there will be another crisis. Maybe, science will discover that the wind turbines have changed the Earth’s natural trade winds or that people can’t have a quiet moment to themselves because of the constant turbine hum heard round the globe. Maybe, it will just be Wolf Blitzer.


Remember when the world crisis heard every evening with Uncle Walter was that the rain forests were going to burn up and we would have no more trees or paper?

I didn’t think so.

As for your humble reporter - I was in Tijuana several weeks ago celebrating Cinco de Tramp Day. I ended up with a raging case of the clap and was summarily prescribed amoxicillin by my local jock doc.

And, this morning, as I looked down to the stewie waters beneath me and began cleaning my under carriage – what to my wondering Charmin-filled hand should appear?
It is my runny, green shit - chased down by some beer. The joke is on me!!

Yeah, Happy Earth Day, Asshole!!


I was rinsing out the putrid remnants of my colostomy bag while reading the daily rag this morning and was proud to see that I had a friend, more like an Uncle, really, who was trying to clean out his own colostomy bag of Marxist ideas.

Like an anal spasm splayed forth from the undigested red meat in his, oh, so better than my — colon.

Remember my friend, soap, hot water — and bleach — for those really tough stains!!


What you degenerative, myopic, fucks fail to focus on — is that you have been fed Federal Fecal French Dips by the Press Puppets of the Presidency long enough. You’re actually eating a Socialist Turdatini Muffalatta – and not the Sweet Shit Sandwich that you have been lead to believe is, actually, behind the deli glass

As Karl Marx said, “The theory of communism may be summed up in one sentence. ABOLISH ALL PRIVATE PROPERTY.”

Now, who the fuck does that sound like?

Think that is a tough question? Here is the good news, kids. Soon, you won’t have to make ANY decisions. Uncle ‘Bama will do all of your thinking for you.

You also probably think that Old Dan’s liver spots look like a pigmented piece of tanned leather. Focus your rods and cones, Asshole!!

Let’s take a look at some of Uncle O’s Grabass Bag of Ideas.

Now, you might not know it, but President Full of Himself — is for freedom of choice. A person should be in charge of his/her own body.

Although tobacco is a drug and should be regulated by the government
(i.e. He Who Hath Not Smoked). Then, he sneaks out back of the White House and torches a fag…

Hypocrites of the world, Unite!!

No, that isn’t the only big initiative by Uncle Brilliance.

These ideas silently float around like the anal fog of death that waffle from my bowels after one too many bags of kettle corn from the Friday night concert series at the community park. Then, before you realize what is happening, the stench has seized up your central nervous system — paralyzing your once supple, vital body, and made it your own Christopher Reeve-like pile of human pulp.

Here is another.

Hugo Chavez North wants to “borrow” the keys and take the Yukon out for a spin — sans emissions. All those years of running a successful business in the private sector are going to pay off for the rest of us — and soon.

Also, but not finally, Presidente Por Vida has another idea de bueno.

He wants control of your fucking healthcare. Listen up, you fat, Camel-smoking hypertensive fucks — No more trans fat, lose the extra body mass, and if you don’t — It is going in your chart.

Since they’ve done such a good job with the V.A., Medicare and Medicaid — Why wouldn’t you trust the Monarchy of Medicine?

Don’t be surprised when the word on high is —
“Sorry, if you don’t do what we say — you will lose your ‘right’ to free healthcare.”

As my grand pappy said, “Ass, Gas or Grass — Nobody Rides for Free!!”

Yes, they got the bumper sticker from him.

Captain Know It All has been at the wheel for less than 6 months.

Only 3 and a half years to go.

Even YOU ought to be able to do the math.

It’s your car America.

Kick that Fucker out on the asphalt.

Start her up.

And Drive

Capitalists of the world, Unite!!

It’s now or never!!

Nugent Style

Finally, it was going to happen. For many months it was talked about, laughed at and eventually put to rest by the end of the lunch hour. What would be an incredible team building event looked like it would never have enough traction to climb up the road to reality.

What am I talking about? Well none other than the first annual Nelson Martin Accounts Payable Ted Nugent Listening and Historical Sharing Brunch.

Time to do a little camaraderie building along with a respectful tribute to the Motor City Madman.

I was beside myself when I got the ok that conference room “T122A” was available for an entire 4 hours on, Friday, July 24, 2009. Let the planning begin.

My feelings were overcome with the incredible task of actually planning this event. Will Marge in vendor management bring her prized deviled eggs? Should I get a guitarist to play acoustic Damn Yankees in the background to set the mood? The pressure was on. I thought that this is what Mutt Lange must have experienced while assembling Back in Black or Bruce Dickinson (yes, THE Bruce Dickinson) asking for more cowbell on “Don’t Fear the Reaper”.

Department demographics might be a small challenge.

Ninety nine point three percent of the department was made up of mid to upper 40’s African American women. The remaining seven-tenths were me and my two Caucasian buddies. Intuitively, I knew that the creation of an attractive promotional flyer was critical.

How else would I entice Lisa, Pam and of course, “Fantastic” Fascetious, to share their “Double Live Gonzo” moments. I have only suckled from the teat of the Vanilla Bean Shake in my life, but it is my unspoken wish that I slurp upon a tall Malted Chocolate Shake. And my key to unlock this door was, of course,
“If You Can’t Lick ‘em, Lick ‘em”.

So, with a plan, I worked towards creating a memorable, and hopefully, annual event.

We started with the creation of the eye catching flyer…. “All of you Wango Tango Fans…Come to the first annual Nelson Martin Accounts Payable Toast to Tedd Nugent.”

Of course, the flyer had a few vintage concert photos along with an up to date Nugent hunting trip - with Ted proudly shoving his steel toed boot down on the neck of a recently killed wild boar –blood oozing from the nostrils. This picture spoke a thousand words. His t-shirt spoke a few more. “Kill your own Dinner and Vote Republican or You’re a Pussy!!”

Things were really getting exciting as the fliers were distributed. I estimated the attendance would probably be at least 200, especially since I inserted “TELL A FRIEND” in bold letters. After I distributed my 14th flyer, the look was about the same on each of the recipients. In hindsight – I should have picked up on the vacant stares of most of the recipients. I had mis-assumed, they were uptight with the photo of the bludgeoned wild boar.

“Fucking, PETA members” –
I remember thinking.

I scheduled hour long mandatory planning meetings daily for the first two weeks then changed to every other day the final week leading to the Friday event.
No detail would be overlooked.

I was browsing EBAY when I found what could be the finest piece of Nugent concert memorabilia to display at the brunch. It was a Jenkins Theatrical Multi-Colored Spotlight Generator - advertised as having shone on Uncle Ted during the Intensity in Ten Cities tour. The Buy it Now price was only $900 which included shipping. The kicker was that it came with a certificate of authenticity.

Sold !!

Thank You, Pay Pal !!

Sucker !!

The date was approaching quickly. Only 5 days to go. As a party favor, I planned on handing out “Dog eat Dog” guitar picks, and vintage eight track tapes of the Ted’s first album “Ted Nugent”.

T- Minus 1 Day.

I was clearly exhausted because I had been snorting chrystal meth for 4 days straight, but this was going to be the biggest day of my life. Go hard or don’t go!!

My clothes were laid out on the floor ready for the day.

I had 4 t-shirts laid out to be worn in official Nugent chronology. First, it was an Amboy Dukes, “Tooth, Fang and Claw”, next was my camouflage T emblazoned with “The Nuge” in script. Third, the always popular “Weekend Warriors” with Ted blazing on his Gibson SG and finally the 2003 Damn Yankees’ little known bootlegged “Live at Choctaw” concert album. Of course, I wore my cut off Levi’s with my KISS Army patch carefully ironed on the right rear pocket.

En route to the office, I made a mental note of the soundtrack for the event. I was so nervous that I couldn’t remember if the order was “Free for All” before “Yank Me, Crank Me” or was it vice versa.

Damn Details!! Bring on the Ritalin - 2 for me.
Almost immediately, I found my focus.

I met Sam and Daniel downstairs at our building to unload the stuff for the party. Sam had the Spotlight generator tightly anchored down in the back of his truck. It took about three hours to set up our “stage”.

Fifteen minutes to go.

I pop three Xanax and two beta blockers to steady the nerves. After finally anchoring the 14 Nugent posters to the walls we sat back and gazed at our success. I had to admit that the environment created was impressive. The spotlight generator was doing its job just perfectly, white light here, red light there.

Apparently “Multi-Colored”, actually means “Red and White”.

I took a glimpse outside and didn’t hear a peep of the attendees in their cubes. So I figured everyone was busy getting ready and assembling their requests.

I was at the pinnacle of my excitement as Sam, Daniel and I drank the only beverage on hand. We filled a 32 gallon trash can with fruit flavored Hawaiian Punch that we thought someone might turn into the famed “Guaranteed To Get Laid” trash can punch.

A 32 gallon trash can hold 212 - 16 ounce cans of the punch.
This is a 2 hour ordeal depending on the can opener you have on hand.
Note to self - next time splurge on the 2 Liters.

It was about 5 minutes passed go time and no one had yet arrived.
I am respectful of the “fashionably late” coolness, but I was worried.
The only thing we could figure out was that maybe our communication had some technical glitches.

Our next step was to review our flier. We all took copies and started from the top. We were reading and there it was, we spelled Tedd Nugent -with two d’s.
I could understand the confusion - since this was the name of our former, racist mailroom guy that everyone hated.

How could anyone come to a tribute to Tedd Nugent?

Damn!! I feel like a fool. Nothing can be done now.

Maybe I should have done a tribute to Rihanna?

An enticing buzz from my right, rear Levi’s pocket–
What is this? A new text on my Blackberry.
It’s Fascetious and she will be down in 2 minutes and wants a two-fer Ted tribute, first “Cat Scratch Fever” followed by “If You Can’t Lick ‘em, Lick ‘em”.
Looks like Nelson Martin’s Junior Account’s Payable Executive is going to have him a tall Malted Chocolate Shake, after all!!

Thanks, Uncle Ted!!

Pity Party Strikes Midnight!!

Perusing the daily rag this am while squatting on yesterday’s disgruntled post-digestive intestinal requirements and what do I read? Finally, a happy day for Lieutenant “Old Dan Cedar”Buzzkill. At my age there aren’t many of these left – so this is cause for celebration.

The federal spigot that followed the hurricane that hit New Orleans – almost four fucking years ago – is being capped.

Generation Sushi:

Let me be the bearer of a little history because, in speaking with most of you folks, there is a harsh realization that Old Dan has to be simple in his communication to you – since most of you don’t have any knowledge of anything prior to your birth. Little things, like The Beatles, WWII or George Fucking Washington. I just get that glazed-stare - out of your myopic eyeballs because I haven’t referenced the Jonas Brother, WWE, Nelly, Kenny Chesney or Jimmy Fallon (and his comedic genius) in my un-endearing commentary on the status of our little un-green carbon factory.

Here is some language that you generation of languid fucks can understand.

Work – Good.

Welfare – Bad.

OK, so maybe it isn’t a generational thing. Maybe it is a regional thing. Maybe that is why I keep reading about these Fucking Fucks still whining about how they are being abandoned by the government or that their dog ate the paperwork that they filled out and they missed the overly harsh government deadline for handouts.

Three Words – Four Fucking Years!!

But, look over there in Texas and a mere 8 months after their hurricane – nary a disgruntled word about the lack of governmental handouts. The headlines in the newspapers wonder about why the birth rate will spike in the next month. Texans take lemons and create future tax payers and child support payments. A true entrepreneurial spirit!!

Six hours east - the concern is elsewhere. The squeaky wheel getting the grease.

That is about right, but why?

Here is a surprise for you chunks of human excrement. Old Dan Cedar doesn’t know everything. But the one thing that I have figured out. Grown, responsible people are like little kids. Except, they have pubes, can mostly wipes their own anal cavities and have learned at some point that they don’t get what they want every time they throw a fit.

When is enough – ENOUGH?


Just like you war-mongering right wingers cheerleading for the Military Industrial Complex out of the right side of your mouth – while spewing racial epithets at Tiger Woods out of the other side while sitting around the living room watching The Masters on Easter Sunday. You know who you are and you only speak this way in your darkest moments. When you think you are free from judgment. Your time is passing and you don’t like it.


You see – I am one of you – and I see your shadowed bigotry that you hide from your professional colleagues. But, because I look like you - doesn’t mean that I am one of you. I am taking mental notes on your skewed view of the world.

This is not a Race deal.

This is a Socialism deal.

The same “New Deal” that FDR fed the American public to fund his four-time crippled ass into the presidency.

The difference is – in Texas – for whatever reason – folks have enough pride to not accept anything and everything offered to them.

The moral to this story: If you coddle your kids – or adults for that matter -they will grab hold of that forever milking galactorrhea teat with those jagged baby teeth and will suck it until an 80 year-old nipple de madre shrivels up inside the gland de mammary.

Thank God – the next president of these here United States – one Bobby Jindal – governor of Louisiana- has pulled the nattering nabobs of negativity off of the collective state teat.

Happy Mother’s Day – New Orleans!!

Time to move out of Uncle Sam’s trailer.