Crashing Vor

Howdy, pards.

More video fun. Putting together Clark's vid last week was fun, and I'll have another half-assed artsy music vid next week, but today we're back to the politics of class warfare.

Another video, this one utterly apolitical.

My pals, Spanky and the Love Handles, are on a roll. Steady gigs in Atlanta, recent triumph in New Orleans. New record out, solid product, whence comes this week's feature presentation.

Some years ago, the editors of the Cloud Appreciation Society began receiving photographs of a distinct cloud type previously uncatalogued. The cloud form, resembling a tossing sea, was initially given the playful name "Jacques Cousteau Clouds," later amended to "asperatus clouds."

This is about none of that. You can read this or get back to that.

You used to could count on the future. Well, maybe not count on it, but bet on it, for sure.

Among the futures you used to coulda counted on betting on were the future prices of frozen pork bellies in the great trading exchanges of Chicago. But things change.

Take a break from the end of whatever's ending this week to mark the end of a legendary pit.

This is almost entirely a shameless self-promotion diary. With that caveat, the reader is invited to move along or stick around for a few grafs to see what constitutes "almost entirely."

There is a small but growing contingent here that believe it might be best to simply let the debt ceiling deadline come and go, let the markets tank, let the so-called "recovery" die in its infancy.

Yeah, that'll show 'em.

I'm putting this one out at a more-trafficked hour in hopes of getting a few eyeballs. It's as rough as can be and may not last long, as it's got other people's stuff in it, but I'm adamant about saying this.

When I read CitizenJoe's diary last week about the Tea Idiots busting up a meeting of gentle, peaceful people discussing political strategy, I blew a fuse. I began to understand why Wobblies made sure their sign poles were stout and sharp.

Last week's little-touted kickoff of Buddy Roemer's presidential campaign was intriguing. I was tempted to diary Buddy as the dark horse to watch, a real maverick Republican directly attacking corporate dominance, unfair trade deals and the corruption of politics by big money. He won't even take donations over a hundred bucks.

Exactly the kind of Democrat we wish we had. Except he's a Republican now.

Y'all know me. Smartass, with equal emphasis on each component. Champion of civility, unless the alternative's really funny. Not a "bot," but not bitterly disappointed in a president who's governed exactly as the cautious, centrist consensus-seeker he advertised himself to be.

I don't rant a whole lot, except about language. And hunger. Hungry people bum me out, and hungry people in a land overflowing with chow just plain get me pissed.

Fantastic news from our ally, um, competitive partner, um, prosperity enabler, um...

Anyway, the good news from China today is that, as Comrade Lennon assured us, nothing is real.

Still exploring the best time to post these things to reach the magic number of absolutely zero viewers. We'll see how the midnight show does.

Ah, yes, the midnight movie. Popcorn, Junior Mints and whatever other "snacks" you can sneak in. They really do help some of those midnight shows make sense.

I'm so impressed with Elizabeth Warren's unflinching indictment of the GOP and their obstruction of meaningful financial regulation (see doc zombie's rec lister for details). Ditto Alan Greyson's unabashed partisan pride. And Anthony Weiner, before he gave himself something to be abashed about.

These are the kinds of Democrats all of us would like to see more of, hard-fighting defenders of the common man who take no prisoners and mince no words. So why do we have so few of them?

I've come to wonder if the problem might be our mascot.