Neanderpundit

If I may call him that

Is, like me, a little oddly constructed in La Cabeza.
Sometimes, for fear of not getting his thoughts out as coherently as he’d like, he worries and frets over posts for ages.

Yeah,right, like any of the rest of us are ever very clear or coherent.

Anyway, more and more lately, he nails it, and this is one of the times. Many of you may have heard shrillary yapping about the pardon of Libby. (who, incidentally, did nothing other than have varying recollections of an event- tell me you have never had that situation, and you’re a liar, plain and simple) I won’t link to a wav file of that, I won’t have her communist voice anywhere near my blog. Does she really think our memories are that short? The money quote in Pascals’s piece:

We are at war with pardons.
We have always been at war with pardons.
Strict enforcement is our friend.

Of course, back at the end of the Clinton Administration, this was the Democratic rant:

We are at war with merciless sentencing.
We have always been at war with merciless sentencing.
Pardons are our friend.

Won’t make any sense unless you’ve read “1984”. Which, if you haven’t, is a treatise on how socialism and communisim fuck up everything they touch. ( I know someone who actually believes that book is about Capitalism and Conservatism, can you believe that ignorance?)

Anyway. Read the whole thing. Pascal is fast becoming one of my favorite bloggers, with Francis and Kim and Steve. Now if he’d just post more.

Kim puts it better than I can, today: Go.

So many of us born here have no idea- and this is a good reminder what it’s all about.

And the livin is… greasy.

I have gone into full blown Gold Bond mode, because the weather is muggy and often quite hot. Not normal Indiana Summer hot, mind, you, but hot nonetheless.

So I bond my boys regularly, but time was I had no idea nor knowledge of the soothing power of the Powdered Joy known as Gold Bond.

SO In the summertime I would do what men have done to keep their boys dry for thousands of years. I used cornstarch.

In the first year after my divorce from the Ice Princess, I was working for a small company downtown Chicago, and it was miserable in the summer.

Dad had died two years before, and I was living wiht mom. I would come how from work, beat like a rented mule, and strip down to my shorts, lay in the backyard on the picnic table and nap.

You learned to sleep in that position in the steel mills- you lay on a bench, and put one arm and one leg up on the table.

My dog, Lady, a beagle/terrier mix, and Dad’s dog Pebbles, would lay on the ground under the picnic table and we’d nap togehter.

Sometimes, though..

The cornstarch I used to keep my freakishly large scrotum from chafing would often ball up and form little wads of… well, cornstarch dough. And the virulent yeast infections I often had from watery bints laying about in ponds….. well, the dough would actualy rise.

This in itself was disgusting enough, but….

Occasionally, stripped down to my boxers, one of the dogs would nuzzle up my shorts leg and start licking away at this…. crotch bread, for lack of a better word.

So once or twice a month, that summer, I’d wake up, laying on the picnic table, boxers splayed, nutsack hanging out, dog licking it…..

Just not a pretty sight, people.

This IS why you come here, right?