Category Archives: American Consumerism

A Happy Holiday Hosing to All

Christmas is coming and it will be a sad occasion in the tent cities and other homeless shelters that are a result of the mammoth, sans lube ass fucking delivered by the American oligarchy and it’s whores like that vile corrupt little bastard Joe Lieberman in D.C., Wall Street bagman Barack Obama has delivered a veritable sleighful of same old shit instead of the change that was promised, the worn and threadbare stockings are going to be as empty as his campaign promises and the souls of Wall Street bankers. In yet another of the craven cave-ins by the Vichy DemocRAT party the shit pit Senate commanded by one former Nevada Gaming Commissioner Harry Reid has gutted any sort of health care ‘reform’ short of arming the insurance parasites and empowering them to force the financially doomed to buy protection money, considering Harry’s rumored affiliation with organized crime is it really any surprise that it came to this? Yesterday it was Lansky Lieberman’s baseball bat strike to the kneecaps that killed the new 55 year old age lowering for Medicare eligibility (which would satisfy my personal needs – fuck everyone else and the public option too…I am going native in the land of ‘fuck you I got mine) and today it’s smacking down the importation of pharmaceuticals from Canada. Bring out the leeches! Oh, don’t bother, they’re already here.

So we once again arrive at the ‘most wonderful time of the year’, the right-wing freaks are again shrieking about the phony librul [sic] War on Christmas, this time plumbing the depths of the deranged mind of peckerwoods, Beckers and Palinazis with the ludicrous claim that phony librul Obama had scheduled his presidential address on December 1st to preempt that great American traditional holiday treat A Charlie Brown Christmas. This latest upchucking of fascist media bile even tops the typical Yuletide green vomit spew of Bill O’Reilly and the rest of the FOX Nazis, it seems to me that for one thing Obama was giving the speech to announce the escalation of the war in Afghanistan and we all know that war and murdering Muslim babies is as beloved to the savage chickenhawk cowards on the right as Grandma’s sweet potato pie and secondly wasn’t one of the big themes of A Charlie Brown Christmas the creeping commercialism that had taken over Christmas to begin with? I mean here in the near fully evolved Capitalist shithole of dog eat dog Murka Santa and the retailers, credit card companies and Madison Avenue pimps long ago triumphed over Jesus who has played second banana to the jolly fat man in the red suit for decades now. Gotta give it to the right wing freaks, their sense of history is as distorted as ever and it’s just more piss in the egg nog for everyone else.

So anyway, I want to throw out a few Christmas thoughts before my annual holiday hiatus from blogging (I will return after the first of the year) and foremost I want to give a nice big thank you to Citibank’s top flesh eating buzzard Vikram ‘the bandit’ Pandit. Your government subsidized den of usury and iniquity sent me out a nice little statement on my credit cards (which I had for year and NEVER missed a payment date on) that announced that I could either choose to keep your little plastic devil cards and agree to a 30 + percent interest rate or opt-out by a specified date and keep my old terms. Thanks for the warning fuckwad and thanks even more for this list of stuff that I, Ed Encho have put on your cards prior to my opting out and then advising my lawyer to send you my intention to file bankruptcy letters in the next few months:

1 – 2 year subscription to International Socialist Review
1 – digital camera
1 – Blu Ray player
1 – Inglourious Basterds Blu Ray
1 – Dark Knight Blu Ray
1 – Gladiator Saphire Edition Blu Ray
1 – V for Vendetta Blu Ray
1 – Acer Netbook mini-computer
1 – iPod nano 6th generation (16 gbs)
5 – cases Samuel Adams beer
4 – cases Budweiser
3 – 1.75 liter bottles of Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum
1 – 1.75 liter bottle of Grand Marnier
2 – Quarts of Jack Daniels sippin’ whiskey
4 – Gallons assorted Gallo jugs of wine
3 – Spiral Sliced Hams (avg. 7 lbs)
2 – Butterball frozen turkey breasts
5 – lbs gourmet coffee
1 – programmable deluxe coffee maker
5 – Assorted Video Games
1 – Drive By Truckers CD
1 – REM Live CD
1 – Each remastered Beatles CD’s (Abbey Road, White Album, Sgt. Pepper)
5 – pounds fresh 20-25 shrimp
5 – pounds fresh snow crab legs
2 – Boxes of 48 miniature cordial chocolate liquor bottles
2 – Cheescake Factory 12 individual sliced cheesecakes
10 lbs – Planters Dry Roasted peanuts
5 lbs – Macadamia nuts
6 – Assorted dog chew toys (moose, duck, bobo, holiday bobo, raccoon, pig and hedgehog)
1 – Deluxe dog bed
1 – Dinner for four at the Outback restaurant along with appetizers (the coconut shrimp are just fucking great) and drinks.

So you little pigfucker, I would like to thank you from myself, my family and my friends for all of the great swag that I have run up in the last few weeks on Citi’s dole and I still have nine more shopping days to go, just under 2,000 left (can you say PARTY TIME) of available credit and thirteen more days until the opt out deadline. I would strongly encourage every other American who is on to the scam to do likewise. It’s a way to boost the economy by buying shit during the season and to shaft you sleazy pricks on the back end.

And if there is anything I hate more than the very concept of Christmas and what it has mutated into in Capitalist America – malls full of morons, political operatives using the season to pander to the angry white fuckwads who have been deprived of it all for their entire pathetic lives, having to be nice to people who you ordinarily would sooner rip their throats out, relatives straight out of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation – it is the inconvenient little truth that it’s not even Jesus’s birthday, it is an arbitrary date plucked from the ass of the Roman Emperor Constantine in something like the Fourth Century, don’t tell that to the Palinazi zombies though. You see my friends, Christmas is bullshit, it has been eaten alive by Santa Claus and same pus filled, four-flushing scumbags who are arbitrarily altering the rules on credit card accounts in the aftermath of their bloodsucking feast at the taxpayer trough. It’s all phony and here in Chumpland the suckers eat it up.

And one of the most hypocritical and dishonest aspects of the holiday season is having to pretend to like people who are complete assholes, ignoramuses, blowhards, bigots and the worst of them all: Republicans. A wasted night, usually on a Saturday when there are the NCAA football conference championship games on and spent amidst a gaggle of boring, self-centered idiots who know nothing of history, economics, civics or a concept of what really goes on in the world that is more advanced than the cartoon bullshit that passes for the news in this rotting empire. I must qualify my disdain for these parties in that I do make a distinction between family gatherings and parties with close friends rather than co-workers or the even more dreadful spouse’s co-workers. These affairs are intolerable, the music sucks, the company is bad and often times since they are pot luck events the food is even worse.

A particularly embarrassing and rather disgusting experience that has haunted me for quite awhile comes to mind. One year despite knowing better I allowed myself to be dragged to a Christmas party despite having a gastrointestinal virus (not a good thing for those who suffer from the dreaded I.B.S. to begin with. Now at this party there were about thirty people crammed into a smallish two bedroom suburban house with one and a half bathrooms. Now when the beer and booze are flowing at these sort of soirees there is always a wait for the use of the facilities as the evening goes on. Now combine the aforementioned gastrointestinal virus, I.B.S. and some food that is served (I believe that it was some sort of dip that did it) are a seriously problematic combination. Now when you take into consideration the long lines to use the john, the perfect storm comes together, a category four bowel storm to put it more precisely.

By the time that I painfully winded my way down the hallway, doubled over in agony and feeling like the alien was gestating inside of me I was able to make it inside the bathroom. My pants were already down before the door was fully closed and I just managed to park upon the porcelain a split second before what felt like three cubic feet of volcanic mud erupted from my ass at terminal velocity. I know that this is pretty gross but now comes the truly horrifying part. The shitstorm was so fierce that it flew up the back of the throne and soaked the synthetic fur cover of the toilet seat. So now in addition to having a hallway full of angry revelers about to piss in their pants ready to break down the door it was necessary to work very quickly to wash out the toilet cover – unfortunately it was the half bath so the sink was the only place available. The best that I could do was to get the festive Christmas red and white fur toilet seat cover back to more of a maroon and beige and then still half dripping back onto the lid which I propped up again and slithered away hoping that nobody would make the connection and blame me for it. Then I immediately got into my car without saying goodbye and drove like hell away from the scene of the crime.

Now before anybody gets a really negative idea about my character I must admit that I made the whole thing up but you get the point. I did however attend a party once where a lady from the office got so shitfaced that she passed out on the boss’s bed and then once the room started spinning out of control vomited a malodorous mess of jungle juice punch, egg nog and half-digested mini-meatballs and little smokies all over what looked to be a very expensive white fur comforter. Since I loathed both of them I laughed so hard that I nearly really did shit my pants.

If there is a silver lining to the coming economic collapse it is that the caterwauling little monsters at the mall will no longer be able to get everything that they want because daddy and mommy’s plastic is maxed out once and for all. This country has been submerged in shit largely because of the ignorant toxic waste generation who were children during the Reagan years along with their greedy, self-indulgent, boorish materialism who have for too long been taught that ignorance is a virtue and who have been weaned suckling at the tit of instant gratification. For the first time in these little spoiled brat’s lives they are going to finally learn the meaning of the word NO because after the dismal results for this holiday season are announced there will be more store and restaurant closures, commercial property defaults and millions of additional lost jobs as corporations continue to cut deeper to the bone with no further vision than the quarterly earnings statement. The corporations who rigged the system to monopolize America are now going to have to deal with something entirely new – a beggared population who can’t afford a pack of fucking ramen noodles let alone the must have junk and gadgetry that all children ages 3 to 70 with an available line of credit have become accustomed to. I really hope that the coming hardship and era of austerity will make better people of the average American (and this starts with the children) ‘consumer’ (I hate that term, it’s so fucking dehumanizing) as they are forced to live within their means and to enjoy the simple things in life. Hell, my grandparents and their generation survived a depression, fought a world war, were civically active and well informed and managed to create the most advanced and wealthy society in modern history before the baby boomers and Generation Reagan fucked it all up.

So you happy hosed Murkans this is it for this morning’s rant and for the rat bastard plague year of 2010 when even the illusion of being fucked with a smile was shattered. HO HO HO and may your holiday be bright.

Just my two cents over the morning cup o’ joe

EE

ps: During a visit to my local Borders on last week’s Citibank sponsored shopping spree I was a bit aghast to see a pyramid built out of hundreds of Glenn Beck’s ghostwritten hunk of asswipe Arguing With Idiots (you know, the one with Dear Leader on the cover in a fucking East German Stasi uniform) along with smaller displays of Sarah Palin’s ghostwritten tome and for good measure another nice display of Glenn Beck’s Christmas Sweater book (a straightjacket would be far more appropriate). Borders and the rest of the retailers should just do the right thing and donate all of that overpriced, moronic drivel to the poor so that they can burn something in their fireplaces for heat this winter. Happy Holidays to All!

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Even Their Dog Was Ugly

Panem et circenses XLIII

When fascism comes to America it will goosestep out to the fifty yard line in full dress regalia for the coin flip at the Super Bowl.


-Ed Encho


I strongly suspected that it was going to be trouble when they were cheering the flyover, an awesome display of a sky full of screaming state of the art weaponry (wasted tax dollars that could have been spent on schools, infrastructure or health care) that was brought large into the mecca of an American living room on a 64 inch high definition television with digitally enhanced sound that rattled the taco bar bowls and sent a chill up my spine, but I had no idea of the epic intensity of the three and a half hours of earthly hell that was to come.

Then when that ass-kissing little chickenshit General David Petraeus goose-stepped out to the giant red, white and blue NFL logo painted onto the midfield grass at Raymond James Stadium in Tampa for the ceremonial coin toss and they marveled at his greatness, patriotism and valor any doubt of a relaxing evening went right down the shitter. General Betray-us by the way is already barking at the President’s policies to withdraw from Iraq, according to this story by Gareth Porter, the great front man for the even greater bait and switch public relations campaign known as The Surge. Gen P, according to Porter, left the Oval Office meeting with Obama “visibly unhappy” and is said to be… get this, plotting to resist orders:

A network of senior military officers is also reported to be preparing to support Petraeus and Odierno by mobilising public opinion against Obama’s decision.

What we seem to have here is a real life version to General James Mattoon Scott, a reference to the Burt Lancaster character in the classic 1962 movie Seven Days in May who led a cabal of renegade brass in an abortive coup against a president who was perceived to be weak on that great phantom menace and predecessor of current national dread terrorism that was the scourge of communism. Petraeus crony General Ray Odierno who is also bucking the president was said in a New York Times story to have a different plan than Obama’s in Iraq withdrawal. I would seriously consider this a firing offense and if B.O. had any balls he would bust both of those intransigent assholes down to buck private and send them both off to the nearest stockade. I seem to recall such disagreement being referred to as treason when the royal ass of King George W. Bush was still parked upon the throne.

But I digress…..

I had allowed myself to be coerced by the spouse into attending a Super Bowl party over the weekend at a home of a good friend of hers who also happened to be a (gasp) Republican and a true one at that. Hoping that the big game would at least be able to hypnotize the vipers for a few hours was futile, the pit was teeming with animosity from practically the minute we walked through the door. I had been under savage pressure for months to meet the extended family and finally caved figuring the attention would be on the Super Bowl and not the painfully obvious ideological differences. Myself, I have no qualms in saying that I would rather eat with a pig than with a Republican because the pig after all can’t help being what it is so I just avoid them as if they were lepers. It’s quite obvious that they feel the same way because I was about as out of place as Gaylord Focker in Meet the Parents.

The game might have been the ‘official’ reason for the gathering but the thing that really jazzed up the hosts and their troglodyte friends were the commercials, not that this is an uncommon phenomenon in Dumbmerica, there is a reason that NBC charged $3 million for 30 seconds of ad time this year. The added joy that a large amount of said commercials were of an animated variety for ridiculous infantile dross that passes for entertainment was even more enjoyable to the gathering assembled in a large circle around the monster TV with their chips, beer and drool buckets. At first it went reasonably well but as the alcohol kicked in the banter about Governor Palin started intruding during the rather dull first half (but they shut right the fuck up during the commercials like the good little murkans that they were) and the racist Obama jokes were making the rounds during the second quarter. Things began to deteriorate after that and when the dipshit lord of the manor was fiddling around with his high tech entertainment command center (he had more gadgets on that thing than fucking NORAD) trying to record the amazing halftime epic 3D preview of Monsters vs. Aliens (since it never occured to numbnuts to pick up an extra set of those silly glasses for his better half) and crashed the entire system, with only minutes left in the second quarter. Fortunately for everybody there for the game he was able to get the entertainment industrial complex wall of electronics back up and running just as James Harrison was 20 yards or so from the goal line on what would be the longest play in the history of the big game. Score a touchdown for the Steelers and another triumph for the forces of stupidity. Jesus Fucking Christ!!!!

The animosity in the room was palpable as Bruce Springsteen (you know, that goddamned New York librul who campaigned for the darkie) delivered a spirited but lame halftime show (lame because other than Born to Run the setlist sucked but as even the Rolling Stones learned a few years back noone is going to float a turd in punchbowl at the NFL’s showcase by being allowed to sing anything even remotely controversial. They were the typical American Republican family, clueless, overfed, boring, mean-spirited but nice in eerie way that must have horrified many Jews in 1930’s Germany as they witnessed what were once thought to be normal people into malignant, blood thirsty automatons with an internal override ready to be triggered by any piss reeking miscreant demagogue with a big enough soapbox. Even their dog was ugly, a wretchedly whiny little rat terrier that was named after a fucking athletic shoe – it was like I had been teleported into Idiocracy: The Reality Show.

The youngest brother was the real piece of work though. You know the type, a smack talking, penciled necked, dough-faced geek in his mid-twenties endlessly fuddling with his Blackberry like a jacked up on caffeine version of Steve Buscemi and spewing the anti-Obama talking points as though they were being texted to him from Rush fucking Limbaugh himself. He was a one-man show, a legend in his own mind and he took particular delight in targeting Mrs. Encho who had once come out and admitted to being a GASP – librul. Now that ‘Sonny’ had no idea that directly behind the spouse sat one of the most vitriolic leftist bloggers on the internet was especially amusing in that I could have in a matter of minutes verbally stripped him naked and sent him wandering off into the desert of shame riding a donkey and wearing a giant Glenn Beck head like Mad Max in Beyond Thunderdome. But though inwardly seething as I was, I just let her continue to catch the flak, after all, she was the one who dragged me into this menagerie of mentally challenged masturbating monkeys in the first place.

His mother sat beside this progeny of Reagan’s generation of shit, sipping wine in a rocking chair and chiding sonny to not talk politics during the Super Bowl, little did she know that in true Bizarro world Republican fashion that her little boy through his very existence was the strongest argument in favor of abortion that I had personally seen. She should long ago have been cited by the EPA for dumping toxic waste and here’s the kicker, the craven little punk has aspirations to one day be a member of the CIA. Ladies and gentlemen, we have our newest death squad commander, it made me want to bolt from my chair like a jack in the box from hell, physically drag the pigfucker outside and go to work on him with a tire iron like Jack Bauer would do.
Were I not an agnostic I would be thanking God for giving me the strength to restrain myself.

As for the Super Bowl itself, it was what it always is, an over-hyped football game wedged in between millions of dollars of advertising directed at chumps, I found the obligatory E-Trade spot to be especially revealing of the innate nature of modern American stupidity, the vampire scum on Wall Street is still trolling for suckers to keep their Ponzi scheme going for just that little bit longer. When taken as a whole the commercials were the same vile potful of swill of smutty juvenille sexual jokes, random acts of violence only in a funny sort of way, enticements to buy more shit that you don’t need, high dollar attempts by Hollywood studios to hype the miserable failures that typically get dumped out right about now before the summer blockbuster season and the inevitable plugs for even more dumbed down sitcoms and new series (a strange new focus on the police state has all too often been materializing so as to subliminally enforce the concept of servility and snitching) which the host network enjoys the biggest viewing audience of the year to peddle their garbage.

From watching the commercials alone it is apparent that high fructose corn syrup is good for you, that T.V. does not rot your mind and anyone who dares to suggest otherwise has just been tagged as a paranoid lunatic courtesy of Alec Baldwin’s great turn in the Hulu spot that comes right out and equates such a heresy with a belief in an alien takeover (who the fuck would even want us?), there are still jobs to be had (the CareerBuilder ad was actually quite amusing to a corporate slave like myself) and there is money to be made in the stock market (according to E-Trade)….welcome to chumpland!! Time to go back to sleep now.
Other than the company and the mind melting barrage of commercials the game actually turned out to be quite a thriller in the fourth quarter with the Steelers cutting through the tissue paper thin Cardinal defense as though it were the Republican minority marching on Harry Reid’s Senate to pull off a 27-23 victory in which Arizona managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Fortunately it was over and I was able to go home and away from those people and may I never darken their doorstep again. I always prefer my own digs where the distractions are at a minimum and despite my paltry 25 inch RCA I can actually relax, enjoy the game and make the best use of the multi-million dollars of commercial time to do the really important things, like go take a leak and grab another beer.