corrente

Juan Cole steered me to this one, which comes from Bob Harris. Please note the headline is his [Bob's] title for the piece, not mine...and we'll repeat it one more time because...well, just because:

Uncle Bucky and the Rocket-Fueled Breasts

Wednesday, 23 February 2005
No, that's not a children's book from hell. (Although now I kinda want to write it.)

Two quick things from today's LAT which I haven't seen in other blogs yet:

Item 1: Chimpy's uncle William H. T. "Bucky" Bush just made half a million bucks cashing in stock options from helping run a defense company that got no-bid contracts which look pretty hinky.

Item 2: Mother's milk -- pretty much anybody's, at least in the U.S. -- now also contains a key ingredient of rocket fuel. Which is surely what nature intended. Downside: thyroid impairment leading to cognitive dysfunction and learning disabilities, and thus another possible generation of Bush supporters. Upside: American babies can now incinerate their own diapers by farting. So that's a time-saver right there.

I'm sure a lot of mothers in Iraq right now are hoping, just hoping, someday to do well enough to pass rocket fuel contamination through their own breasts.

We can only dream.

Have a great day. Yeesh.

*And what is it with these people and their need to maintain both a long string of initials indicative of pedigree, displaying their breeding papers like a show dog, and widdle-kid nicknames, as if to announce, hey, we're not all that serious about the elitist rights of inherited dominion we affirm with our every waking breath? I mean, hell, everyone's related to somebody who did something. If any of these people believed their own crap about personal responsibility, they'd occasionally act like who they are was defined by their own actions, not the eugenic cotillion-closet genetic filesharing which allows them to escape any consequence.

Hell. Maybe I should start calling myself Robert Clemens Priestley Cleopatra "Skeeball" Harris and hope somebody hands me a no-bid contract. Worth a try.

Being in the middle of a periodic stab at giving up tobacco, I of course am unable to write anything myself, so figured it was only fair to give our readers the best stolen material available elsewhere. If anyone reading this is inspired to hand out any no-bid contracts, just steer it here to the Mighty Corrente Building and we'll be sure to pass [most of] it along to Bob.