It's the Bitterest Day of All!

Sorry for the silent running around here, but Mary and I had to go out of town for her father's funeral and only just returned to a miffed cat...

I'll never trust you again.

...and a wrecked lumbar region, which means I'm having to ration my time at the keyboard. So I hope you'll forgive me if I recycle an old favorite, a Valentine's Day Special Comment Sheri wrote for the original World O'Crap at Ye Olde Salon Blogges.

A survey indicates that 78% of Americans are currently in a romantic relationship (and since we saw this on one of those VH-1 pop culture shows where they get all sentimental about Voltron and Shrinky Dinks, it must be accurate). For these people, there is Valentine’s Day, a time to show your loved one just how much you care by buying him or her a tacky gift and a pre-printed card. And while some cynics maintain that the holiday was invented by Fanny Farmer and FTD, we shouldn’t forget the person for whom the day is named, Saint Valentine, the Christian martyr who was shot by gangsters in a garage in Chicago over a shipment of bootleg Whitman’s Samplers.

Don’t get the wrong idea; we approve of Valentine’s Day, if only because a holiday celebrating romance is better than one honoring some of the other popular themes in American society, like random gun violence or daytime TV, thus saving us a trip to Wal*Mart to buy a heart-shaped box of hollow-points for that Special Someone.)

Nevertheless, we don’t think it’s quite fair that couples get Valentine’s Day and Sweetest Day, the third Saturday in October (described as “a day to honor and be kind to one’s sweetheart”). While Sweetest Day has never really caught on with shoppers (despite the urging of florists, who fail to see much Halloween business) it is still listed on most calendars and celebrated by many parochial schools. So, since people who need people are the luckiest people in the world, we think that it’s only right that the 22% of the populace who are not in a relationship get a holiday of their own. Thus, for everyone who won’t be getting flowers, a diamond, or dinner and an amateur strip show this Valentine’s Day, we would like to propose a special day, just for us. We call it Bitterest Day.

Bitterest Day, celebrated on the 15^th of February, will be the official anti-romance holiday. It will be a legal holiday, involving time off work with full pay, but only for those who are nobody because nobody loves them. Its motto will be, “I am not appealing to any member of any sex, so I have lots of disposable income to spend on consumer goods.”

Let us now explain some of the customs and traditions of this newest American holiday:

Cards

We all know that an integral part of Valentine’s Day is those frilly, mushy, overpriced bits of cardboard which all spouses and sweethearts are required to buy, under penalty of a booty moratorium. Bitterest Day also has its cards, but you don’t send them to that Special Someone. No, you send them to one member of that Special Twosome. Indeed, you choose the cutest, sweetest, ickiest couples you can think of, and “Care enough to send the very worst.” And although you may address the card to Marsha, your intended audiences is John (or vice versa). After all, they do share everything, right?

Here are a couple of sample cards:

Front cover: When you left, you took my heart. But you left behind . . .
Inside: THESE! (Attached is a pair of crotchless panties.)

Front cover: How do you make love last forever?
Inside: I don’t know. But I DO know how to make you pay for it for 18 years. (Attached are authentic-looking paternity test results.)

Food

While lovers get 5-pound boxes of chocolates and expensive candlelit dinners at French restaurants, what do we, the non-adored get? Well, we also get expensive dinners at French restaurants. This is how it works. You call up “Danny,” your ex-boyfriend, and you tell him that you read in Ann Landers that it’s “Reconciliation Day” today, and you want to invite him to sup at Chez l’Imbecile to demonstrate that you’ve “gotten beyond” everything. Mention that you also want to invite Klamidia, the flight attendant he dumped you for, since you know she must be a special lady.

When they arrive, tell them that this is a special occasion, and urge them to order the most expensive things on the menu—you do the same. During dinner, offer small talk such as, “I’m so happy to see that the two of you are still together. It’s rare to see somebody forgive the person who gave them . . .oh, but I shouldn’t be talking about periodic discharge at the dinner table!” And, “Danny, I have such special memories of our time together–I think of them whenever I watch the videos. Hey, have you heard about those websites where they pay for amateur bedroom tapes? Kind of intriguing, huh?”

Then, while they are enjoying dessert, get up to “powder your nose.” Keep on walking right out of the restaurant, leaving the check for them. Worried about repercussions? On Bitterest Day, there are none. It’s the law.

Flowers

Okay, maybe you won’t be getting two dozen red roses, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy nature’s bounty. As a celebrant of Bitterest Day, you’ll get your fill of posies by spending time in a floral shop—whichever floral shop uses the most annoying Valentine’s Day ad this year. (My nominee is the one that cautions “Don’t break her heart this Valentine’s Day—get her the roses she deserves, if you really care.”)

On February 15^th, the florist will be exhausted, stressed, and probably suffering from methamphetamine withdrawal. So, use Bitterest Day to choose massively complicated flower arrangements for your upcoming wedding! Surely you’ll need to look at LOTS of design books and at TONS of samples to plan the floral arrangements for the extravaganza your daddy, the Senator, will be giving his little girl. And since you are something of a bubble brain, you will have a hard time remembering just exactly what they call those white blossoms that you’ve always dreamed of for your bouquet. (“Bougainvillea? Tuberoses? No, wait, I think they’re called carnations!”)

After five or six hours, when you have finally gotten everything settled, call your fiancé and tell him the plans. Sputter, stutter, mutter some profanities, and finally yell, “Then the wedding is OFF!” and slam down the phone. Inform the florist that you could never marry a man who didn’t love baby’s breath as much as you do. But feel no need to apologize for wasting the petal monger’s time–for you’ve just helped another curmudgeon learn the true meaning of Bitterest Day! Which brings us to…

Bitterest Day Holiday Specials

Let’s face it; we all lead rushed, harried lives that leave little time for the simple joys of an old-fashioned holiday celebration. That’s where the media comes in, since it often takes a showing of It’s a Wonderful Life, or Frosty the Snowman before we can begin to feel the Christmas spirit. So it is with Bitterest Day.Of course, in our version of the typical Rankin-Bass animated special, Frosty has nerve-endings, and he screams as he melts. Screams quite a lot, actually, until the children who pranced so gaily around him are left pale and shaken, and his last, whispered words, “I’ll be BACK again, someday…!” haunts the dreams of all who witnessed his hideous demise.

For the adults, meanwhile, there’s that Bitterest Day perennial, The Bishop’s Wife, in which an angel is sent to Earth to restore a churchman’s wavering faith, and help him to erect a cathedral. In short order, the angel cuckolds the hapless cleric, then hatches a ghost payrolling scheme with the mobbed-up local union boss to funnel the construction funds to an offshore account, leaving the Bishop behind to face charges of peculation while the angel and the Bishop’s wife enjoy an extradition-free life on Grand Cayman.

So, in conclusion, we urge you to open your heart to Bitterest Day, the one day a year in which it’s okay to be an old maid living with nine cats, or a quiet loner with a large collection of guns and porn. For the most important part of Bitterest Day is feeling good about yourself as a person in your own right, and realizing that you don’t have to be part of a couple in order to be okay. Plus, on Bitterest Day, you don’t have to wear anything that makes you look like a prostitute Care Bear, and can wander around your dusty house in the tattered remains of a wedding dress without enduring any snide references to “Great Expectations.” So get on the phone to Merlin Olson today, and say it with Bitterness.

The Killing Joke

I don't believe we've examined Kurt Schlichter on Wo'C before, and can't really claim to know the first thing about him.  And yet, based on the tone of his recent Townhall piece, which is so vein-poppingly entitled that I suspect it would make Marie Antoinette snap her fan and mutter, "Check your privilege," Kurt was probably hurt by the rich buffet of puns and mispronunciations his last name offered to Middle School wags ("Schlichter? I barely know her!"), sending him running off to press the top of his head against the tetherball pole in a Charlie Brownian pose of existential despair, and it made him mad. It made him mean mad, and now he just wants to hurt us all back.  And while collective guilt isn't my favorite team sport, I'm willing to do my part, even if that means squeezing into short shorts and a sexy tube top to playfully wax Kurt's Dodge Charger for the big car wash fundraiser.

President Obama, Send Your Deadbeat Supporters to Wash My Car 

My car needs washing, and frankly I’d prefer that the losers who think Obama’s “free” community college idea is super awesome get off their lazy hindquarters and wash it for me for free. Sure, I could pay for it myself, but then I’d have to forgo things I’d rather have. It’s cruel and inhuman and, I’m guessing, both racist and phallocentric, to force me to prioritize how I spend my money. So, Mr. President, I need you to direct your minions toward my reserved parking space because, in the words of noted jurist and personal hero Judge Elihu Smails, I want it creamed and buffed with a fine chamois.

Now, at first glance, Schlichter's claim that it's "both racist and phallocentric" to make him pay for a car wash because he'd much rather spend his money buying...a black penis, I guess?...sounds silly, and that's the point. Despite the fact that Kurt looks (and "Schlichter" sounds) exactly like one of the evil frat brothers from Animal House all grown up and gone to seed, he's actually playing a deep Swiftian game here.  If the ultra-hip link to a Caddyshack .wav file wasn't enough to convince you that Kurt is actually a comedy-savvy joke machine on a par with Bruno Kirby's character in Good Morning, Vietnam, then this endorsement ought to do the trick:

Kurt Schlichter (Twitter: @KurtSchlichter) was personally recruited to write conservative commentary by Andrew Breitbart. 

Wow. That's a rare honor, like being a chiropractor who's personally recruited by Ed Wood to double for the deceased Bela Lugosi in Plan Nine From Outer Space.

He is a successful Los Angeles trial lawyer, a veteran with a masters in Strategic Studies from the United States Army War College, and a former stand-up comic.

In the inter-War years, most of America's beloved comedians came out Vaudeville, or the Catskills, while in the Fifties, it was the nightclub scene; in the Sixties, a sharper, more satiric comic voice developed at the Harvard Lampoon, but nowadays it seems as though nearly all the nation's edgiest comics are emerging from the Army War College.

I’m just going with the flow here. Apparently all that’s needed to get something these days is to unleash your inner wanting and hack politicians will start promising to provide it for free.

Patronage and graft sure aren't what they used to be. In the old days, you'd get a bottle of free whiskey for voting twice. Now they just send you to Calculus class.

 In the dark, wicked past, things like fine touring sedans and reserved parking spaces – as well as community college degrees – came after one put forth something called effort.

I think you misunderstand, Kurt. They're not giving away degrees -- you still have to go to class, write the papers, pass the tests; in other words, earn them -- they're just subsidizing tuition, which in my day was -- at least at the Junior College level -- as close to free as made no difference.

 “Effort” is a word that describes the means by which the people called upon to subsidize lay-about Democrat-voting losers acquire the money the liberals seek to plunder. 

That's your definition, huh? So there's no English Comp requirement at the Army War College?

But today, we have legions of over-schooled, under-wise, neckbeards voxsplaining to us about how demanding they expend effort before they get stuff is really just discrimination.

Some people overexert themselves and get a charlie horse. Kurt gets a dennis miller.

Yes, it is. Life, using effort as a metric, ruthlessly discriminates between the lazy and those who have stuff. I am super comfortable with that.

Does Life also discriminate between "those who have stuff and those who would like to have stuff but won't ever get the chance to acquire any because they can't afford to go to college"? Because in that case, it seems like Life is kind of a dick.

I could go on a long diatribe about all the burgers I flipped and the toilet stalls I mopped over my nearly 35 years of work

Don't trouble yourself, we're bored enough as it is. (However, if a "successful trial lawyer" is still flipping burgers and mopping toilet stalls, I'm guessing your firm is sending a subtle hint that you're not going to make partner.)

but I don’t need to justify my right to my own property or the fruits of my labor. It’s mine, not the liberals’. That’s all that matters – whether I got what I have because I built a company or had super rich parents who handed it to me or because I won the lotto is, frankly, none of anyone’s business. 

What’s mine is . . . mine. Not yours. Go get your own. Keep your grubby mitts off mine.

Sorry, children of the non-super rich; if Obama's proposal becomes law you may get the otherwise unattainable opportunity to earn a degree, or enough credits to transfer to a four year school, but despite what the President says, you're going to have actually go to class and study, and not just walk into Kurt Schlichter's den and rip his diploma off the wall.

I’m always fascinated when some moral illiterate who’s still sponging off his mommy labels as “selfishness” my unwillingness to give him my hard-earned money just because he really, really wants it. Not that it matters – again, it’s mine, so if I want to be selfish with it that’s my prerogative. If you want the same prerogative, get your sorry tail behind a cash register and start selling people Big Macs.

Unlike the unlettered sponges who are continually importuning him for money and property, Kurt is a moral literate, although apparently he only reads morality at a Second Grade level.

I refused to listen to President Bottomless Piehole’s speech the other night,

"I meant to, but I was busy coining insulting nicknames for the President, and for some reason they all sounded like specialty desserts at Cracker Barrel, and then I got hungry and wandered off to the kitchen..."

 but I understand that he pointed out some Potemkin villager as his example of an oppressed prole trying to survive in the living hell that is the America he has led for the last six years. He lamented that Ms. Julia Potemkin worked hard, but darn it, didn’t have the money left at the end of the month to take a vacation or get a new car. Now, how did he come to the conclusion that this is a bad thing? People who are financially squeezed shouldn’t take vacations or drive new cars. 

They shouldn't get paid sick days either, which they wouldn't even need if they had to get out in the fresh air and walk to work.

That’s not a problem to be solved. It’s an example of thrift to be applauded.

And if you actually freeze or starve to death, Kurt will give you a standing ovation.

To the extent the situation Ms. Julia Potemkin finds herself in is even a problem at all, it is not for the President or anyone else to address.

While Republicans, as a party, have become anti-science, many individual members, like Kurt, are willing to scribble in a grandfather clause for natural selection.

 Hey Julia, you’re a grown woman, at least chronologically. Figure it out. Want a nice vacation? Work more hours, or get a better job. Save money by canceling cable, or cooking at home. Maybe you could do what I did for years as I built my law firm and just not take a vacation. I don’t know what the answer for you is, and I don’t care. You’re a grown women. If you’re unhappy, figure it out.

Again, I'm not as strong on my definitions as you are, Kurt, so maybe you can help me out: is this "voxsplaining," "mansplaining," or "psychosplaining"?

I do know one thing – the answer is not to come to me and tell me I should subsidize Ms. Potemkin’s decisions by giving her my money. That’s money I got through my decisions, like my decision to spend years working three jobs (lawyer, writer, Army reservist).

You're sure getting all exercised about a woman who doesn't exist. But of course, millions of real life Julias do work three jobs, many of them backbreaking and for minimum wage, whereas your employment hat trick consisted, respectively, of 1) a white collar career 2) more of an avocation or a hobby, and 3) a job that required you to show up for, what? One weekend a month and two weeks every summer?

 You know why I have a nice car? 

No, but if I had to guess, based solely on your column, I'd say you probably snuck up behind a disabled man in a parking lot, beat him to death in a foaming rage with a golf putter, then zoomed away in his BMW while muttering about sponges.

A lot of people want their college paid for, but they really don’t want to do the things consistent with buying – yeah, education is a commodity – a degree. 

Yeah, why don't these stupid middle class and poor people just buy advanced degrees from online diploma mills, then get jobs as conservative talk show hosts?

Their bright idea is to have mepay for it. And it’s a terrific idea – for them. Funny how that always happens. Oh, and besides being selfish, I’m also short-sighted because it would do all sorts of vague, unspecified good for “society” if everyone could get babysat for another two years past their terms in the Democrat-unionized K-12 moron factories.

He has a point. School only lasts for something like six hours a day, and if freeloading first graders cared at all about being fair to Kurt, they could easily pay for their own grammar school educations by laboring the remaining eighteen hours in a blacking factory.

Well, since apparently the government now exists to fulfill every transitory whim, I want in. I want my car washed, and I guess that leaves only one alternative, since I don’t want to pay for it. You people who think it’s A-OK to divvy up my money – which is really my time in dollar form – need to get up off the sofa, put down that Xbox controller, and pick up a sponge. Wax on, wax off. Get buffin’.

Hell, I'll go you one better, Kurt -- I think they should be forced to wash you. Anyone got a fire hose, or a water cannon...?

Hey, don’t be selfish. Think of the benefits to society that would come from me – a demonstrated job creator – if I was liberated from the tyranny of having to get my car washed. What, you still don’t want to? What about society? Why are you so greedy?

This doesn't make a lot of sense -- we all pay taxes for things we don't agree are worthwhile, or which don't benefit us directly; it's the price of living in a society in which our every whim is not catered to, assuming we're neither the super rich nor one of their paid courtiers -- but then I remembered that this is all satire, and Kurt is using his satirist's pen to stop widespread higher education before enough of his potential audience can go to college and realize this isn't satire.

Well, I’ll make you a deal. I won’t ask you to subsidize my life decisions and you won’t ask me to subsidize yours. 

But that's not quite fair to you, is it? I mean, sending people to college involves certain fixed costs which must be covered by tax dollars, whereas I'm pretty sure it doesn't cost you anything to be an asshole.

The Dorkest Time Line

My friend Elizabeth alerted the world (or at least Facebook) to this Newt Gingrich tweet:

So I guess if Newt were President -- as he should have been! -- he'd use Hellfire-armed drones to shoot the Goodyear Blimp out of the sky before a super hot German-Palestinian lady terrorist could honey-trap Bruce Dern into using it to blow up the Super Bowl. Too late, however, President Newt would realize this wasn't the 1977 Black Sunday Super Bowl, but the 1976 Two Minute Warning Super Bowl, where the Goodyear Blimp was instrumental in spotting the crazed sniper threatening the crowd, and now the maniac is free to pick off spectators at will, giving snipers a bad name so that 40 years later American Sniper is considered in bad taste and bombs at the box office. Say what you want about our elites, Newt, but at least they're smart enough not to screw with the frigging Butterfly Effect.

Is There a Dark Mark Over Our House?

Sorry for the paucity of postings, but we're having (yet another) difficult week. Mary's dad died on Monday.

I'll just quote my brother-in-law's brief biographical sketch from Facebook:

Major Richard Brubaker (retired) passed away on Monday. He was a veteran of WWII and the Korean Conflict. He also served during the Cold War where he studied photos of Cuban Missile sites. He was a prime example of what is called "the Greatest Generation". He always thought of others. His family and friends always came first. He will be missed.

It took the Grim Reaper 93 years to catch up to him, despite a wealth of opportunities, starting when Richard fell down a well in Kansas as a small child and got stuck, which is apparently a thing that happened regularly in the nineteen thirties, at least according to Radio Days.

He fought in the Pacific, aboard the U.S.S. Saratoga. After the war he joined the Air Force, went through Officers Training School, then served in Korea, and flew as part of some truly hair-raising surveillance flights during the height of the Cold War.  He was a good storyteller and I always found it frustrating that he wouldn't talk about those experiences much, and when he did it was always a brief, funny anecdote with himself as the butt of the joke. 

He was endlessly kind, hilariously self-deprecating, and quietly badass.

R.I.P., Dick.

EMERGENCY ALERT! They Might Have a Super Bowl Today!

 I tweeted a quip about the Super Bowl, and that was the code word that caused a mole deep within Facebook to send me this important message:

EMERGENCY ALERT! Terrorists may attack Super Bowl:   http://www.veteranstoday.com/2015/01/29/superbowl/

It started off sanely enough:

A terrorist organization implicated in the events of September 11th, 2001 is targeting Super Bowl XLIX, scheduled for this Sunday, 4:30 p.m. Mountain Time in Phoenix, Arizona.

The terrorist group calling itself NORAD (North American Aerospace Defense Command) has announced “we will have some planes” in the skies over University of Phoenix Stadium.

But it went from a 9/11 insider Terrorist group called NORAD (I remember when they were just all about the RADAR),  to some crazy stuff about Satanists, numerology, Free Masons, and evil longitude and bad latitudes.

Many terrorism experts believe the city of Phoenix has been targeted for nuclear incineration. According to SK Bain, author of The Most Dangerous Book in the World, the freemasonic organized crime outfit behind 9/11 and subsequent “occult mega-rituals” is likely to nuke Phoenix.

Why Phoenix?

Short answer: The name “Phoenix” refers to the mythical bird that incinerates itself and then is regenerated out of its own ashes. According to Bain, the American Eagle is actually a freemasonic phoenix; he quotes Manly P. Hall, author of Secret Teachings of All Ages: “The American eagle upon the Great Seal [of the United States] is but a conventionalized phoenix.” The occultist criminals behind false-flag terror events plan to incinerate the old America, and then “regenerate” a new, totalitarian New World Order America out of the radioactive ashes of the old.

And the New World Order freemasons occultist criminal terrorists are going to nuke Phoenix not just because of its awful climate and politics, but because of its parallel.

Phoenix, Arizona is the perfect sacrificial victim not only due to its name, which symbolizes America (the “eagle” i.e. the phoenix) but also because it lies on the 33rd parallel. As SK Bain suggests, the 33rd parallel includes:

Charleston, South Carolina , birthplace of the Freemasonic “Mother Lodge of the World” (and the site of the beginning of the Civil War at Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, as well as the Concelebration of the enthroning of Lucifer in the Vatican) likewise at the 33rd parallel…the Trinity nuclear test site in the Jornada del Muerto (Journey of Death) desert of New Mexico, on the 33rd parallel…Harry S. Truman, 33rd Degree Freemason and 33rd President, who authorized the use of nuclear weapons on civilian populations…Nagasaki and Hiroshima, straddling the 33rd parallel.”

And a bunch of other bad stuff happened at that parallel, including dead aliens.  Read the article if you don't believe me!

Anyway, Super Bowl Sunday will be the perfect day to nuke Phoenix, not only for the ratings, but because when you add up the numbers of today's date, it could mean anything and everything, including overthrowing God!!!

More esoterically, the numerological portents are disquieting. If we write the date of the Super Bowl in the manner of Illuminati numerologists, 02/01/2015 becomes 02012015, which adds up to their favorite number, 11. The number 11 represents the Twin Towers of Jachin and Boaz, the biggest symbol of freemasonry; the Twin Towers of September 11, the JFK assassination of 11/22, and NWO Armistice Day (11th hour of 11th day of 11th month) are just three of many examples of the freemasonic use of this number. For more, see my article 11 Questions for Veterans Day.

And if we write the date in the shorter fashion, as 02/01/15 or 020115 the digits add up to 9. So the date represents both a 9 and an 11…just like 9/11. The symbolism of the numbers 911 obviously means “dial up an emergency” and programs Americans to turn to their government for help. (Now who would have picked such a date for the “New Pearl Harbor“?) But 9/11 also represents the satanic illuminati wish to overthrow God, whose number is 10, the number of transcendence in the decimal system. Going straight from 9 to 11 means bypassing God and reaching a state supposedly higher than God.

So, make sure your toddlers learn to count correctly, because if they skip any numbers, they're going to hell!

Will the movers and shakers who control Washington DC, that gargantuan maze of freemasonic symbols, decide to “go to 11″ during this year’s Super Bowl?

It’s less likely to happen if enough of us let the bad guys know we’re on to their game.

Please forward this article to everyone you know.

And that's why I'm sharing it with you - to save the world.

At this point, you're probably thinking, "Stupid sz, this was obviously a clever parody, because nobody is that delusional and paranoid."  Well, maybe you're right.  But a whole bunch of conspiracy theorists seem to accept the author as one of their own.  And here are his creds:

Dr. Kevin Barrett, a Ph.D. Arabist-Islamologist, is one of America’s best-known critics of the War on Terror.

Dr. Barrett has appeared many times on Fox, CNN, PBS and other broadcast outlets, and has inspired feature stories and op-eds in the New York Times, the Christian Science Monitor, the Chicago Tribune, and other leading publications.

Dr. Barrett has taught at colleges and universities in San Francisco, Paris, and Wisconsin, where he ran for Congress in 2008. He currently works as a nonprofit organizer, author, and talk radio host.

Hear that?  He's appeared many times on Fox News, and is currently a talk radio host.  Phoenix and the Super Bowl are DOOOOMED!

Top 10 Tricks For Enjoying Your Stay In NYC!

By Keith

10. Bring all of your money. The registers never stop ringing in New Amsterdam.

9.  Practice holding both hands above head for extended periods.

8.  Your immigrant cab driver holds two Ph.D. degrees. Please be respectful.

7.  Use best judgment when peeing in public spaces.

6.  Rats, pigeons, squirrels and racoons may be aggressive. No citations issued for kicking critters off-leash. Relax and enjoy.

5.  When in Manhattan, do not visit the “Holland Bar” located south of Port Authority Bus Terminal without escort.

4.  Only Boston has worse drivers behind the wheel.

3.  New York City is built upon a granite foundation that has higher mass per sq/in than, say, Kansas. Gravity is much more powerful. Bring comfortable footwear.

2.  Ray didn't invent pizza, after all.

1. If you say something, see something.

Tricksy Obamases!

You may remember D.W. Wilbur, owner of "Secur-Intel-Solutions" (motto: Find the Missing "E" and Get 10% Off Your Next Mall Cop!"). Wilbur (or Dee-Dubya, as our friend grouchomarxist calls him), apparently thinks Obama is after his Precious, and demands to know what the President has got in its pocketses.

D.W. Wilbur in undated file photo.

'Tricky' Barack 

During his presidency and throughout his political career former President Richard Nixon was derisively tagged by the liberal media as “Tricky Dick” for his supposed record of deceit and dishonesty.

You know, I hate to get nitpicky right out of the gate, but if you can't look at Richard Nixon and spot a crook, I doubt whether your mall cops will be any help at all in stemming the rash of napkin thefts at Sbarro.

 It was a nickname deserved or not that stuck with Nixon after his resignation from the presidency and into his forced retirement.

I suppose if we wanted to determine whether Nixon's infamy was deserved or not, we could review the circumstances that caused him to become the first and only president in American history to resign and enter a "forced retirement," but just as correlation does not imply causation, it would be equally wrong to assume that "cause" implies "effect."

Fast forward to the year 2015 and it would seem that the appellation “Tricky” would more appropriately fit the current resident of the White House, Barack Obama. In fact Obama’s record of deceit and dishonesty both precedes his taking up residence at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and has continued unabated for six years.

My feeling is, if you're going for a "record of deceit and dishonesty" don't go for a "supposed" one like Nixon did, because that kind of wishy washiness is just going to earn you an asterisk in the record book.

Barack Obama’s entire career appears to have been one of deceit, from his denial of his close association with the anti-American ‘Reverend’ Jeremiah Wright to his friendship with domestic terrorist Bill Ayers. Barack Obama was dishonest about these relationships during his first campaign for the presidency and he has continued his many canards up to the present.

I was a little confused about 'Reverend' being in quotes, since Jeremiah Wright was indeed the Senior Pastor of his church for over thirty years, and holds two master's degrees and a doctorate, but then I realized, with all the deceit and dishonesty going on, it's probably like the Mafia, where everyone has a nickname (Barack "Tricky" Obama, Jeremiah "Reverend" Wright, Antonin "Big Tuna" Scalia).  Anyway, D.W. "Dee-Dubya" Wilbur delves into this tribal custom in greater detail in his forthcoming techno-thriller, A Clear and Present Canard.

During his 2008 campaign Barack Obama worked diligently at passing himself off as a moderate-to-just left of center politician, but certainly not the extreme leftist politician that he revealed himself to be once he took office. 

I'm wondering if Dee-Dub was born left-handed and his parents made him use his right, since I understand that can lead to a lifelong inability to tell one from the other.

During his brief conversation with Joe the Plumber he inadvertently let slip his true intentions to “spread the wealth” if elected. But his campaign along with a pliant news media quickly went to work to downplay this exchange.

Well, since the wealth hasn't spread, but continued its steady upward trajectory, maybe it was a misquote. I'm guessing Obama, learning that Joe was a plumber, advised him to "spread the cheeks" in order to produce a more awe-inspiring plumber's crack.  And while we're on the subject, why isn't it Joe "The Plumber"?  That's literally the most mobbed up sounding sobriquet this side of Tommy "The Butcher" Pitera and the guy can't get a couple of lousy scare quotes? Sic transit gloria mundi.

Once taking office Obama was quick to display his true ideology and agenda.

I remember that day. The leftist agenda lasted almost till lunch.

His continuous attacks on those who are successful remains unrestrained.

I can see why Mr. Wilbur is worried. When we first discovered him back in October, the website for Secur-Intel-Solutions, the counter-terrorism fantasy camp where he teaches future Days Inn security guards the Vulcan Nerve Pinch and the G.I. Joe Kung Fu Grip, had seen only 883 visitors. But now, three months later, it boasts a total of 1261! Admittedly, most of those are probably World O' Crap readers and Mr. Wilbur himself, but still, that kind of success is bound to bring on unrestrained attacks from the president.

 And he has forced a social agenda onto the military allowing openly gay individuals to serve, and to open front line combat units to women.

Which allowed Joni Ernst to campaign for Senate claiming to be a "combat veteran," so the joke's on Obama.  If Iowa is smart, they'll elect an openly gay vet as their next Senator and really stick it to the president.

Rushing to claim ‘symbolic parenthood’ to Trayvon Martin, the president also sent White House representatives to attend the funeral of Michael Brown, an eighteen-year-old thug killed after committing a robbery and then attacking a police officer, and inviting the fraud Al Sharpton to be a trusted White House advisor. Obama’s racial politics are obvious.

Unlike Dee-Dubya's racial politics, which are cloudy with a chance of meatheads.

From free ‘ObamaPhones’ and ‘Cash for Clunkers’, to ‘ObamaCare’ and now ‘Free Community College for everyone’, Barack Obama has engaged in a spending binge on an unparalleled level and has waged an ongoing war against “the rich” at every opportunity.

And yet the deficit continues to shrink!  It must have been to exposed to that same mysterious fog that so tragically altered Grant Williams, and if things go on like this, it will one day find itself trapped in the basement of the Treasury building, battling to the death with a common household spider.

Fig 1: 2015 Federal Deficit, seen at right in burlap tunic. Source: Congressional Budget Office.

While his liberalism was obvious for all to see in 2008, no one could foresee just how extreme his liberalism would become apparent once he took office. This he was determined to conceal from the American people.

And yet they re-elected him, even after he took office and revealed his previously hidden "true ideology and agenda," which I guess means the American people are Communists, morons, or we just really like magic tricks.

Barack Obama has indeed concealed many tricks up his sleeve since taking office, and the next two years promise to be a continuation of the same. Tricky indeed.

There's a slim chance that American democracy can survive twenty-four months of non-stop presidential card tricks, but if Obama ever sees that ad in the back of Mystery in Space comics which promises to unlock the ancient secret of ventriloquism...

We're doomed.