“You know, we should not be giving cash to people who basically are just going to blow it on drugs and not take care of their own children.” — Sen. Orrin Hatch (R-Utah).

Dear Sen. Orrin Hatch

My children are all grown up and doing as well as they can. As for myself, I haven’t done drugs since the early 70s. A rebellious thing of the 60s/70s, you know how it is. Well, maybe not. You seem like a pretty uptight, straight asshole to me, but what the hell, different strokes and all that.

I assume you receive a paycheck for your, er, services to the, er, people of this country. We are your boss, right? I mean, it is our tax dollars that pay your way, right? Anyway, I assume you receive a paycheck and are able to pay your bills on time. Well, guess what? I don’t. I’m one of those unemployed through no fault of mine. Indeed, I’d say it’s more your fault I’m unemployed than mine. You and your cronies are the ones handing millions to your friends on Wall Street and driving all the jobs over to third world countries.

Anyway, I also assume you like to eat. So do I. I like to keep the lights on, too. A little AC is nice in these hot climes. Laundry, too. Clean clothes are so important for that pointless job search. I say pointless since you and your cronies have all but killed any hope of a job.

Anyway, I was just wondering, since you seem to have your fingers on the pulse of the issue, just where do you think we unemployed are going to get the money for food and clothing and the other essentials a human needs to survive with you and your cronies cutting off the only lifeline we have left?

Yours in hoping you rot in hell
AnonyMoose

Listening to Steve Earle, Christmas in Washington, wondering how it all went so wrong. We were the Baby-Boom generation. We had it all. Secure homes, a good education, a future in the new America. We rose up to smite the gods, to tear the power from their hand and direct it toward a good cause. Now, it seems we’ve faded from the scene, the fight left unfinished, those in power are still in power and those on the bottom are still getting shafted. There are groups out there still fighting but they seem so ineffective. The machine continues to grind us down, turning this once great country into a third-world nation.

Will no one stand and scream that enough is enough? Jefferson would weep over what’s become of his beloved land. He would be on the front line of change, holding a banner high, making secret plans to overthrow a government that is no longer representative of its people.

I have no problem with Obama. I think he could be a good president, if it’s possible for any politician to be anything but a lying piece of shit out to fulfill his or her own personal agenda. He is young and idealistic and came up from the streets and you would think he might have acquired a clue along the way. It sure doesn’t seem that way. And none of those around him seem to have a clue either. Maybe they should step out of their protected door and ask the homeless, jobless guy walking down the street what’s up? He might give them an earful.

We need a WPA program, Barack. Remember FDR? What he did when the whole damn country was going down the toilet? He sent them out to every nook and quiet corner of this land. They built roads, bridges, rail lines. They wrote stories, took pictures, slapped paint on canvas. They rebuilt this place, rebuilt themselves, rebuilt their pride.

We are in shambles, Barack. We are hurting and divided and in need of guidance. Don’t be a political prick. Fuck the Republicans. Fuck the Democrats too. You’re the fucking president of this great nation. Do something.

The thing I hate most about quitting the old coffin nails is that the moment my brain drops into neutral, the ‘Light Me’ lamp begins to pulsate in my head. It’s like I can’t have a slack moment of nothingness where I can just stare at the wall or consider why there is air or contemplate what the next sentence is going to be. Instead, I have to shift into ‘fight off the urge’ mode which isn’t a terribly restful, or enjoyable, mode to be in.

And you can save your ‘Go EJ!’ ra-ras cause it ain’t like I really want to quit cigarettes. I enjoy my Nat Shermans. Nice clean tobacco without all the crappy additives, a light taste of mint, what’s not to like? And I’m not quiting because of the alleged health issues? Hell, if I were that concerned about health issues, I’d have to give up everything I eat, drink and breathe. Have you read the ingredients on the things you eat and drink lately? You damn near need a chemical dictionary to figure out what you stuffing down your throat. And what the hell is with all that high fructose corn syrup anyway? It’s in every damn thing on the shelf. What the hell is wrong with good old sugar? And salt! Do they even put salt in food anymore?

And what about the quality of the air you breathe? Planes, trains and automobiles oh my. I’d rather spend a day in a room full of smokers than an hour walking down any major thoroughfare. Nah, any health issues associated with cigarettes don’t bother me. Everything kills ya.

So, why am I quiting? Well, I hate to say it but Uncle Sam’s the cause. This last tax hike has just pushed the price way out of my range. Eight plus bucks for a pack of Nat’s finest? Sorry, but I don’t think so. And I’m damned if I’ll smoke those additive-ridden cheap things. Those additives are gonna kill ya faster than the tar and nicotine will. What with all these price hikes, it’s gotten to the point where the Nicoderm patch is cheaper so I guess I’ll just smoke through my skin.

Not that the patch isn’t a real pain in the nether regions itself. I have to go that route cause the gum is even worse. A taste like old sweat-socks. Pop one or two of those between the old teeth and my stomach begins to do flip-flops. The patch only makes my skin itch, my muscles ache, my ears ring and plays havoc with sleep. Can’t complain too much about the dreams, though. Like taking acid in your sleep. Weird and colorful.

It’s a damn good thing I haven’t turned into one of those snarling, craving beasts ready to snap the head off anything that comes too close. A real bitch bitch bitch, complain complain complain, kill kill kill, can’t find a good thing to say about anything kind of guy. Don’t ya just hate it when someone gets like that?

Oh, and you know another thing I hate about quitting? I hate that most everything stinks. Do you Nicotine Nazis actually get used to this smell? Yuck. I’m going to have to start carrying a nosegay or something. Won’t that do wonders for my image. As it is, I find myself following smokers cause, you know, that smoke sure does smell fine.

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