All you really need is heart…

Two stories of note this week: the shooting of Trayvon Martin–which actually occurred a month ago today–and Dick Cheney’s new bundle of joy. I’ve always found myself to have a reluctance to draw cartoons about things that are sad. Things that make me angry on the other hand are fair game. And the shooting of Trayvon Martin makes me sad. But the reaction of the Fox News types is worth derision.

On one hand, you have Geraldo Rivera admonishing the dead kid about wearing a hoodie because it looks too “gangsta.” And then you have New Gringrich admonishing the President about noticing the kid was black. No two ways, Fox, it’s either racist or it ain’t. Add to this the “stand your ground” fans backing up shooter Zimmerman saying that he was only doing his job–self-appointed and told by the 911 operator not to pursue–and you start to wonder if their heads are in so far, will these guys ever see daylight again?

Fortunately, Melissa Harris-Perry took care of Geraldo, and the electorate looks like it will be taking care of Newt. And Paul Krugman reveals the truth about American Legislative Exchange Council, the corporate shills behind the “stand your ground” laws.

Which leaves us Dick Cheney. The sight of all the people wishing him well with prayers for a speedy recovery—including those who’ve accused him of being a war-profiteer, a war criminal, and responsible for the sinking of the US reputation to historic lows by ‘OK’ing tortures the Japanese were hanged for after WWII—warms my heart. This is the mark of a civil society. We do live by the Golden Rule: Do not do unto the previous Administration as you would not have the next Administration do unto you.

Now a churlish man would be making comments about Mr. Cheney’s heart transplant like “Where’d they find one that small?” Or, “This one is perfect, Igor, MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Or, “Wow, the old one really was made of stone–this will fetch a high price on EBAY!” But we won’t do so. Instead, we’ve decided to honor Mr. Cheney with some verses of a song:

Dick had to have heart,
Cheney really needed heart.
They kept saying that you didn’t have one.
But here’s one for a fresh start!

You never lost hope,
When they kept on saying nope,
Like with those weapons that could never be found,
Those visions were sound, your critics dopes.

Don’t you think of Halliburton,
And the profits from the war,
You will only feel some hurtin’,
And who knows what you’d outpour
to an enhanced interrogation!

So pick up the phone,
And when you hear the dial tone,
Tell your friend that you are sorry you graced
with buckshot his face,
it wasn’t smart,
Now you’ve finally got heart.

No applause please, the patient is convalescing.

Corporations Are People Too

Ah, Mitt! You’re our favorite candidate named after a piece of baseball equipment. And sticking up for the poor corporations like you did! Why, of course, they’re people. People who can live forever as long as they make money, who make scads of money but don’t have to pay taxes on it as long as their HQ is somewhere outside of the 3 mile limit, and who can commit all sorts of crimes, but never be sent to jail! Why, that just makes them SuperPeople. I’m certain the Roberts court will agree.

Enough, here’s the lyrics to ‘Leeches’ in case it’s too small to read on the monitor:

Leeches
Leeches who leech people
Are the luckiest leeches in the world,
Bloodsuckers, needing all you “suckers”,
With statements geared to mislead
they hide unrestrained greed,
Acting more like bandits
Than bandits.
Bankers are very special people,
They’re the luckiest people
In the world.
With two journals, two very special journals,
A mortgage deep in the hole
which should be crap,
looks like gold
Making profits untold
for corporations
Who’re just people.
Leeches who are people
Just the luckiest people
In the world!

Don’t Touch My Junk Rap…

Fred’n'Bert decided that it’s been too long since they’ve done any music so they took the occasion of TSA’s latest idiocy in the fruitless attempt to keep us safe from our own shadows. Don’t they realize the only way the airlines will be 100% safe from terrorists if nobody’s flying? Hmmmm, maybe that’s part of the plan–remove geographical mobility–serfdom, here we come!

Anyway, I could only fit PART of the rap in the cartoon, so for the benefit of Search Engine visibility, the extended version is presented here in text:

Keep your hands outta my trunks—Don’t touch my junk!
Keep your hands outta my trunks—Don’t touch my junk!
Keep your hands outta my trunks—Don’t touch my junk!
Keep your hands outta my trunks—Don’t touch my junk!

Welcome, America to Nazi Germany lite.
We turned into you without much of a fight.
Nine-eleven is what brought us down to our knees.
“Save us, we’ll give up all our liberties!”

Tap our phones–What have you got to hide?
Protest and you are on the terrorist’s side!
A fence between us and Mexico?
Little kids at Guantanamo!
Torturing suspects in Iraq
Hey, waterboarding keeps us safe from attack.

Get on a plane? Take off your belt,
take off your shoes, now prepare to get Felt
Up, Groped Up, Fondled Up, Pissed Up, Shut up!
Don’t make any noise, we’ll call over our boys!
This is just the latest thing in travelin’ joys!

Little old ladies, nine-year old kids,
Colostomy bag? God forbid!
You might be using it to bring some explosive shit—
Better empty it out or be declared unfit.

We must be safe—one hundred percent.
No that’s not enough, a hundred-ten percent!
No matter what we think we have prevented
The terrorists will come up with a plan to circumvent it!

You want privacy? Better fly first class—
You won’t be finding one of them get probed in the ass!
We understand the need to be cautious,
but this kind of thing just makes me nauseous!

Don’t tell us that you understand our frustrations,
President Obama, just stop these violations.
The 4th amendment protects our rights
from unlawful search but not on air flights?
It’s time we stopped acting scared and paranoid—
The terrorists have won: Freedom’s null and void!

Keep your hands outta my trunks—Don’t touch my junk!
Keep your hands outta my trunks—Don’t touch my junk!
Keep your hands outta my trunks—Don’t touch my junk!
Keep your hands outta my trunks—Don’t touch my junk!
DON’T TASE ME BRO!

Seriously, President O, if you think it’s just frustration, then you don’t get it. It’s a physical, mental, emotional and illegal violation of our persons and that’s what everyone’s upset about. We can never BE 100% safe from everything. More people die in traffic accidents in a couple of weeks than all the people in terrorist attacks for the last 9 years. There’s a better chance of being struck by lightning than to be killed in a terrorist attack. None of these extraordinary measures have stopped any terrorist attacks. It’s always been some observant person who’s seen something strange going on that stops them. It’s time to stop acting like Chicken Little or people WILL stop using the airlines unless they have to.

At least that will be good for the trains.

Anime USA 2010 pictures up on my Flickr account.

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Special Post: Wank–errr–Working at the SEC

How the SEC regulated business since the Internet

I couldn’t let this go without celebrating this piece of news with a song!

Wanking while you work!
Give yourself a jerk!
At the office all day long,
Oh, what an awesome perk!

Get a hummer at the poon!
Wet your whistle really soon!
And download to the stack
of DVDs that fill the room!

Gaze upon her twat!
What’s on your hand ain’t snot!
Remember to back up a bit
so your keyboard will not be hit!

Here at the SEC,
our work is so easy!

Just stamp approved on everything–do not examine anything!

And don’t allow a single thing to sway you from not doing a thing!

So in the crapper the economy fling!

When WANKING WHILE YOU WORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKK!

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