Popsicle Sticks and Jesus

Like most young omnipotent beings, we were schooled in the ways of the traditional Gods (Christian in our case) when we were young. It was a youth spent singing hymns, making Jesus fans out of church programs and Popsicle sticks, and passing collection plates. A pleasant enough way to spend a Sunday morning, but nothing to write home about.

Of that time, we remember little that inspired us and much that confused us. We don't think this was any failure in the Sunday school teachers, preachers, or other members of our suburban Methodist congregation. We simply asked questions. They would try to answer. We would pin them down a little more each time and they would finally run out of "proof" of a God. Finally, they would revert to that old chestnut, "Because the Bible tells us so." The one final question they ultimately could never answer was, "What happens if we choose to not believe the Bible?"

Lest you think we are a garden variety atheist who knows little or nothing about religion, let us tell you this. We've read the Bible - some great stories in there by the way - but not much fact. We've read portions of the Koran and have had numerous religious conversations about religion with our Muslim friends. While we confess to reading almost nothing of the Torah, we have conversed enough with our Jewish friends to know the Torah covers much of the same territory as the rulebooks of the other religions.

But, our point is this: We believe books are books. They are not the ultimate arbiters of what is true or not true. You are. How you choose to make this determination is completely up to you - a "mistake" a truly omnipotent being would probably not make we might add. And what we need is some proof.

So far, we've seen little to support the existence of a God and much to suggest that if there is one, he is one pissed off dude. But none of that matters on a daily basis. We believe that religion is a wonderful thing if it helps you feel better, assists you in doing good, or keeps you from doing evil. We are heartily against murder and can even go with that not coveting thy neighbor's wife thing (but isn't just a "little" impure thought OK?). We also believe this can be equally true of high school counselors, eating hamburger, and conserving gasoline. You get to make the choice. Hey, it's whatever gets you through the day baby.

We will fight to make sure you can continue to practice your religion as you see fit. If you want to worship rocks or magnificent omnipotent beings - ourselves excluded - that is your right. However, it is not your right to tell us how we should worship or not worship. You're free to worship as you please in the same way that a person is free to practice karate - as long as you don't hurt us with it, have at it.

We don't care that God is mentioned on the money or in the Pledge of Allegiance. Those are pretty trivial issues and we can't see getting majorly upset over it. We DO care about what we teach our kids. The school room is the place for science. There's ample time at your local hut of worship to cover Intelligent Design. We'd also appreciate it if you could see the other side of the argument too.

We don't think even the most cynical of atheists would say the Ten Commandments are a bad thing. What they are saying is that the commandments are a Christian thing and if you get to post them on every flat surface on Earth then we should let the Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and any of the other myriad religions post theirs too. This is clearly not the way to have a good looking planet and we'd really rather keep it clean.

So here it is in a nutshell. We choose not to believe in a God. We believe you can believe in anything you want. However, we would appreciate it if you would stop telling us we're going to hell and in return we won't ask you to get out of a country that belongs to both of us.

And please, this blog is where we vent and rant. Being omnipotent is a tough job and we need the therapy. If we make a disparaging remark about your particular belief please understand that we vent and rant on everyone. We are an equal opportunity satirist and that includes religion as well as Tom Delay, Bill Clinton, Paris Hilton, and especially Cher. We REALLY hate Cher.

So we omnipotently proclaim, "make it so."


Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Friday, September 30, 2005

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The Wheels on the Bus Are Com-ing Off, Com-ing Off...

The wheels on the bus are com-ing off, com-ing off, com-ing off...the wheels on the bus are com-ing off, ev-er-y day. Maybe we're just getting older. Maybe we have a touch of pre-Alzheimer's. Maybe we're just stuck in a rut. But can anything ELSE go wrong?

We're bombarded daily with all manner of
disaster, ruination, and just plain bad luck. Our politics are a crime ridden landscape where the leaders are either crooked or stupid or both. Groups of home-grown Taliban are trying to drag us screaming and kicking back into the 14th Century. There's fire, flood, and war on every corner. The price of gasoline is up and the future of the Republic is down. We have to have the window motor in our Omnipotentmobile replaced to the tune of $700.

It seems the detritus of life in the early 21st Century is piling up faster than beer cans at a
biker bar. Bad juju has become a powerful force that we can't seem to overcome or make peace with. If we were religious, it would almost make us start to believe all that hokum about God smiting homos and liberals and flinging lightening bolts at the infidels to show us that we are nearing the end of our days.

Almost. We're actually on a first name basis with God, Mohamed, and Buddha and they seem just as perplexed as us.

Sure, there are the little nuggets of hope. The Germans have developed a
self-ordering beer mat, Paris Hilton seems to be in her 16th minute of fame, and Jessica Alba says she'd do nude scenes if the director and script were just right. But, those things are scant hope for a world facing problems of the magnitude we've seen recently.

Remember the days when things happened at a normal, copeable pace? A tragedy every few days or a scandal here and there instead of our now typical Katrina/Rita/crashing jet/tornado-in-Minneapolis kind of day. A person needs a few moments between
Hindenburg crashes to catch their breath and ready themselves for the next scream. It's no longer, "OH, THE HUMANITY!". It's "SONUVABITCH! WHAT NEXT?"

So the Poobah has a request. Send us a little good news. Something that will cheer us up. We need an omnipotent laugh, a beatific snicker, a nice piece of apple pie. Anything! We're begging you. We don't want to dissolve into a whimpering mass of formerly omnipotent jelly. We want to find something that will help us resist the impulse to smite something as those other, more famous deities, are apt to do.

Make us laugh. We'll even throw 72 virgins and a river of honey toward you as an incentive.

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Thursday, September 29, 2005

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An Incompetent So Good They Hired Him Again

Everyone's seen them, those pictures of a person looking into a mirror, looking into a mirror, looking into a mirror on into infinity. Watching some of the actions of Blight House this week, the feeling is familiar.

If you'll remember, the poor FEMA response down south has a long history. The original FEMA director, a political hack with no experience and
really bad hair, was replaced by another political hack with no experience and a padded resume. That hack - conveniently testifying before a largely Republican and friendly House committee this morning - quit abruptly, mid-fiasco when things went south in a spectacular way. Using his overflowing font of Presidential wisdom, King George II replaced him with another outstanding candidate, the man responsible for the infamous plastic sheeting and duct tape defense against WMD. That DubyaDubyaDubya.dum fella sure knows how to pick 'em.

If you haven't been watching closely you might imagine that at this point,
Bushco finally got the picture and has stopped hiring cronies for important jobs in his administration. If so, you'd be wrong. Brownie, the one singled out by the Shrubster for doing such a fantastic job, has been hired by FEMA, as get this, a consultant.

Incurious George likes to be called the CEO President and this move certainly qualifies. Captain Corruption did what many CEOs do when they face a crumbling pile of ick - hire a consultant. We're guessing that even the worst of Halliburton's worst would've been a better pick than "Brownie". Perhaps the walking smirk finally smartened up and hired Brownie to tell them what not to do.

So here's to
Brownie. Back on the public dime sharing his expertise with a grateful nation once again.

Brownie, I've got an Arabian horse I'd like you to take a look at. It has a pain in its ass and it looks just like you.

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Tuesday, September 27, 2005

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As We See It - 3.0

The True Nature of Bush Emerges

Terrorists? We're Just Getting Our Priorities Straight

I Used to Pay By Credit Card, But Now It's Just Cheaper to Hand Over My Clothes

The Great Miscommunimacarator

Right Guard - For Those Doing the Hard Work

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Sunday, September 25, 2005

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God Stuff

We trimmed bushes - the plants, not the family - today. It reminds us that we have advanced to the age where a stiff back can be expected with little or no physical effort. We're gonna hurt in the morning, even if we do take ibuprofen.

One might ask why - if we are indeed omnipotent - we don't just snap our powerful fingers and be done with menial tasks like this. After all, that God fella just asked Noah to pack up the yacht while he flooded the planet. Viola, no trimming needed. In fact, no plants period. We admire the effort. It was quick and efficient, but not such a cool idea if you were one of the ones left on the dock. We think it was a bit showy too. We've always gone for something more subtle.

We don't do the normal omnipotent shtick because we don't like to show off. We like to pretend we're just regular folks, kinda like the Bushes - the family, not the plants. We play it like Samantha on Bewitched. No omnipotentry unless absolutely necessary to bail out Darren or unless hilarity will ensue (though we would really think hard about zapping Mrs. Kravitz if she was poking around our place).

We are tempted to do a Pat Robertson and divert one of the many hurricanes zinging around from its destructive course. However, we haven't planned to smite gays or try to wipe out all the fans of Ellen Degeneres. Someone needs to be around to set fashion trends after all. We actually had thought about sending a hurricane for Pat because he richly deserves some comeuppance. Besides, we thought the irony would be delicious. Then, we thought better of it. Assassination by hurricane is more his style than ours.

As omnipotent beings go, we're sort of a laid back Deity. That Christian God dude seems much too vengeful. He doesn't reward you for being good, but for being sorry about doing bad. And that Mohammed guy? Fugettaboutit. We're really more like a low-rent Buddha. We smile a lot and love to have our omnipotent belly rubbed, but we don't believe in all that philosophical stuff because it's just too trippy. Throw a long haired wig on that little guy and you'll see a portrait of a fat hippie. We think he hits the incense a little too hard too, if you know what we mean.

So for now, we'll continue cutting the bushes - both the plants and the family - because it makes us real and keeps us happy. And really, what more can you ask from a Deity?

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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Saturday, September 24, 2005

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Another Day, Another Disaster

When the alarm clock went off this morning our temptation was to cover our omnipotent head, curl up in a little all, and huddle under the covers. The arduous search for a job that pays better than blogging has taken its toll, sapping our strength and resolve. It's also extended to our much-beloved blogging which explains the two consecutive, all-photo posts this week. Our apologies to all of our dear readers for the slippage in quality. We haven't felt like a rant this week, but we are going to pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and do something today.

Here goes.

Hurricane Rita is bearing down on the Texas Gulf Coast, bringing fears that it will mash into the devastation brought by Katrina, creating one huge mega-disaster area. Let's call it the "KatRita" disaster for short.

It's too early to tell yet if preparations are better this time.

Those who believe the last fiasco was unforeseen and unprecedented have already started to look for evidence that things will be different this time. Hundreds of buses leading away from Galveston are contrasted with the hundreds of unused and inundated school buses in New Orleans. Dear Leader has laid down his free guitar, stayed home from his regularly scheduled bi-weekly vacation, and and is poised to make the first near-daily visits to the newly flooded area. Promises that he'll print more money to pay for all this are already being made. No word yet on when we can expect the first resignations.

For those who don't believe, there is ample evidence of another failure in the making. The Texas evacuations started early, but there are thousands of cars stranded in a 100 mile long traffic jam that leaves them vulnerable in their cars instead of safer in their more substantial homes. The triumphantly-repaired New Orleans levies have already been breached and the flood waters are rewatering large parts of the newly dewatered Big Easy. The Army Corps of Engineers, whose engineering caused the problems in the first place, are hard at work engineering a new solution. It's heartening when someone gets a second chance, isn't it?

So, at this point, the situation is normal - FUBARed, stuck on stupid, or some other military euphemism for hosed beyond belief.

However, one difference we have noted this time around is how the inevitable rise in the cost of gasoline is being presented. Oil company shills explain that $4 per gallon gasoline is actually for our benefit. While puzzling over why we'd never thought to send them our gratitude and thanks, they explained that without the high cost there would be no gasoline at all. They apparently have no explanation for how someone who makes less than minimum wage is supposed to pay for that "plentiful" gas, but this is a mere quibble we're sure.

This spaghetti logic mirrors a discussion we once had with a co-worker who explained that sweat shops were wonderful for the Third World because, without them, there would be no jobs in those places at all. We were never quite clear on how working 16 hours per day for wages that are still lower than the per capita wage in whatever
slum they live in was such a sweet deal for the workers, but voodoo economics never was our best subject. Perhaps it's the same logic that promotes offshoring jobs as a way to create jobs, although we think it's a pretty hard sell to tell a laid off software engineer that a
job at McDonald's really is the pathway to the American dream. Curiously, we never seem to outsource "important" jobs. Oops, we forgot about Cheney and Halliburton.

The problem is this - capitalism is an economic theory primarily based on the credo "greed is good". We guess we shouldn't expect much else.

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Friday, September 23, 2005

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More As We See It

The Secret to Martha's Success

"Don't Worry, We Got It All Under Control."

Teachers Are Special Interests

Legacy? What Legacy?

Well, What Did You Expect?

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Thursday, September 22, 2005

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As We See It

New Orleans Mayor, Ray Nagin, makes yet another stellar decision.

Dude! Where's my legacy?

Johnboy, let's you and me go find that Gone-za-lez fella.

Me? Worried about energy prices?

We feel lots better now.

Shrubules and Condi, Warrior Princess, pose for a photo after negotiations with North Korea.

Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Tuesday, September 20, 2005

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It's All in the Genes

Mrs. Poobah is a rabid hockey fan, so she weathered last year's NHL lockout with more than a little pain. The long drought ended last night when we attended a rare hockey double-header - an exhibition game between the new prospects for the San Jose Sharks and Los Angeles Kings - followed by a pre-season game between the "grownup" Sharks and Kings.

Both were cleanly played, with nary a fight in either. Pretty tame as hockey games sometimes go, but it did get us thinking. What is it about hockey that's so appealing?

It's fast. It combines the finesse of figure skating with the brute power of football. It's a team sport where individual play is equally necessary. And, it's violent. Never underestimate the violence.

This is one of the few games where the players are armed. You don't see football players flailing away at each other with sharp sticks. You don't see baseball players hurling themselves full-force at their opponents. And, we can't think of another sport where every team has an "enforcer" whose job is to teach the other team respect for yours by vicious, well-placed body checks. It's all very Roman.

But what is it about the violence that is so appealing, especially for someone as dignified and pacific as Mrs. Poobah? After all, she isn't alone in this. Who doesn't crane to see a car wreck? Isn't that why action movies are frequently blockbuster hits?

We believe that humans have a deeply ingrained, DNA-imprinted desire to destroy things. Many people declare they are pacifists who abhor such violence, but most of them still get pissed and would gladly slug someone applying makeup or reading the newspaper at a traffic light. Many people engage in truly useful constructive activities like Habitat for Humanity or refurbishing the local rec center, yet those same people probably wouldn't pass up an opportunity to push the plunger at a building implosion.

People just want to see things explode. There is something as deeply satisfying about that as there is with constructing things. Our early ancestors needed to commit violence against unlucky antelopes to survive. It's that simple.

We aren't surprised about this love of destruction. It's part of the necessary wax and wane of life. Some things must go in order to make room for new things. We relate to it not because it's some base instinct that we must always try to rise above. We relate to it because it is a normal and natural part of every organism on the planet. That's why sometimes wars are a necessary evil, despite what some would have you believe. The secret is in choosing wars deliberately and fighting them intelligently. If not, we end up destroying not only what needs to be destroyed, but also ourselves.

We continue to select wars poorly and fight them stupidly and in the process we keep inventing new and improved ways to destroy things. If Tide detergent could create as much technology for cleaning clothes as we expend on devising ways to blow things up, we'd have the cleanest clothes in the universe. But then, aren't clean clothes a lot less interesting than watching something explode?

Yeah, we didn't think so.

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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Monday, September 19, 2005

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Photoshop Follies

I Gotta Go See a Man About a Legacy

The Anti-Racism President

Darwinism at Work

Headline: Halliburton Tapped for Cheney Pipeline Repairs

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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Sunday, September 18, 2005

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A Week of Firsts

It's been a week of firsts. Normally we'd say that the end of the world must be approaching, but there's been so much apocalyptic news lately we can't say that without feeling like the man holding a sign that says "the end is near".

In a single week, Frat Boy Dubya "accepted responsibility" not once, but twice, and then went on to admit there are poor black people in America to boot. This is quite mind-boggling. Forget for a moment that his acceptances of responsibility only came after three weeks of having his ass handed to him on a platter. And, let's forget that his staff had to make a specially edited video so he could "see first hand" a zillion poor black people starving in the streets. I'm sure their cries of help even spurred him into action - for a trip to the fridge for another beer.

We have to admit that last night's speech was well-written, as Bush speeches go. There were almost no references to hard work and not once did he mention that he's the "War President". He hit all the right notes, but failed to deliver any content. There's a difference between good and well-written.

He talked a lot about new programs, but uttered nary a peep about which turnip he'll squeeze to pay for them. He talked about free enterprise building a new and improved New Orleans - again presuming the tooth fairy will drop by to put $100 billion or so under his pillow. He said he saw no reason not to go forward with more planned tax cuts while telling us that our "successful" war in Iraq and other pet projects must continue. All in all it sounded more like helium escaping from a Mickey Mouse balloon than something of substance. Especially since even his allies in Congress are already balking at the plan.

But perhaps the biggest surprise of the speech was the Massa's sudden interest in racial equality and the eradication of poverty. That change in course as so abrupt we got a whiplash from seeing it.

This came from a man who has spent six years telling us that the gulf between the haves and have nots isn't really true - like global warming. He has supported every effort to scale back affirmative action or any other program to address discrimination that's come along. And the closest he ever gets to a black person is when he's asking Condi Rice if he can go to the pissoir.

Now some would say we might be a little hard on Mr. Mission Accomplished, but for us, actions speak louder than words and there are two actions that screamed loudly at us.

First, he has lifted the law requiring workers be paid the prevailing wage of the area . This is not exactly the move of a man suddenly concerned with the poor man's financial health, but quite in line with a man trying to lower the costs for firms like Halliburton, Fluor, and Bechtel as they move in for the kill. Second, he appointed the Turd Blossom to be his point man on the reconstruction effort. Other than his ability to smear people, we don't see that he has much to offer in the job. He isn't any more qualified for the job than Mike Brown was for FEMA director, but that's never mattered before, has it? We're guessing that on Uncle Karl's agenda, community reconstruction will place a sad second to Shrubco's image reconstruction.

So there, in a nutshell, it is. At the end of the day we're not left with anything approaching a solution. We are left with lots of platitudes designed to make us want to give him a good old noogie and forgive him. He desperately wants us to trust him, yet he has nothing but a long string of failures to trade for that trust.

While this week may have been filled with firsts, we fear that one of them won't be a President that can lead us out of the ditch he so readily drove us into.

Thanks George. We knew we could count on you.

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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Friday, September 16, 2005

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Free Enterprise and the American Way of Life

America is the country of bigger is better. We love the outsized, supersized, mammoth, and humongous. Our states are bigger than many countries. We drive behemoth vehicles. We drink sodas from cups big enough to swim in. We eat hamburgers laden with enough calories to make a small, third-world country overweight within a week. So is it any wonder that we've created yet another gargantuan product? Something so big that we'll all have to have it, at least until the next biggest one comes along?

Yes, we're speaking of the FIVE-blade razor. Two blades, then three, then four weren't enough. Now we have a razor that can clear a patch of stubble with less effort than an International Harvester combine.

But wait, there's more!

The new razor will also come equipped with lubrication strips on the front and back ends, lest we chap ourselves. It has an auxiliary blade for trimming sideburns and under your nose. And, it will be available in both a power-operated and manual version for those who need a "starter" razor they can trade up on later. You might say at this point, "how could this razor ever be even more fabulous?"

Well wait, because there's even more!

Just to cinch its technology lead over its rivals, the new razor will have a microchip that regulates voltage, a low battery light so you won't be caught half-shaven, and a safety switch that shuts the thing down after eight minutes of continuous operation. We don't know about you, but we're not sure we'll be able to restrict ourselves to only eight minutes with a razor this technologically superior.

As the man used to say in the commercials, "I LOV THIS CON-TRY"! We lead the world in razor technology and we can't tell you how proud that makes us feel. Good old American know-how and ingenuity has triumphed and all is right with the world. Why, smart bombs and stealth fighters pale in comparison to this achievement and we'll be eternally grateful that the full force and weight of the American free-enterprise system was brought to bare on this vexing problem - "how do I get a really close shave?"

This finely-tuned shaving machine is a sterling example of what private enterprise and the American way is all about. Find a problem that needs no solution and then create one. But not just any solution mind you, a world-class, stock pumping, money rising to your eyeballs solution with flashing lights and more doodads than an exotic limousine.

We wonder what would happen if private enterprise brought all that talent, energy, and panache to solving problems that actually do need solutions? Can a 12-blade, oscillating, nuclear-powered razor be far behind?

You can bet on it. Halliburton is working on it as we speak.

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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Thursday, September 15, 2005

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Because You Have to Laugh to Keep From Crying

The Frat Boy Makes a Beer Run

Devil's Choice

Another Mission Accomplished

"I knew I should'a stayed at the ranch."

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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Wednesday, September 14, 2005

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G.W. Bush - An Equal Opportunity Hater

Much has been made in recent days about the role of racism in the Katrina debacle. One side believes that, "Bush hates black people," as Kanye West maintains. On the other side, the Bushwhacker's wife, Mizz "It's Katrina Not Corina" Laura, says that charge is "disgusting". Condi "I Just Love Candies" Rice agrees. We believe they should both know, because one sleeps with him - we're sorry, but that just gives us the willies - and the other is black, kinda, sorta, maybe if the lighting is just right.

While we would be the first to believe that racism isn't past the Lil' Gipper, we're not sure about it in this case. We believe the more likely problem may be the Bushster's complete lack of knowledge about poor people. Racism is probably just a bonus - icing on his fabulous Linzer torte if you will.

Face it. The Commandant of Disaster Preparedness has lived a life of privilege since the day he was born. He had the benefit of not only a silver spoon, but a diamond-encrusted silver spoon silently delivered to his mouth by a staff of waitpersons poised to respond to his every beck and call.

"I want a taco," he says and one mysteriously appears. "I'd really like some of them pretzel things," and a bowl materializes on his end table. "HELP ME HERE I'M CHOKING TO DEATH," and someone races to his rescue. We're talking about a man whose own parents refer to him as, "The President" and whose father was so clueless about everyday life he couldn't tell reporters how much bread cost. He then went on to marvel at the "amazing" scanners in the grocery store.

The apple didn't fall far from the Bush if you get our drift.

Now some would ask, what do you know about poverty Mr. Sub Urban? It's true that our Omnipotence grew up middle class when one still existed. However, we do have plenty of first-hand knowledge about the most crushing poverty our economically stratified country can dole out. Let us tell you the tale of going to Grandpa's house.

Gramps' house in West Virginia was near the end of a 10-mile stretch of washboard road. Along the way you forded a good-sized stream that was impassable when it sprinkled. You found the trail down to the house by looking for a small clearing in the trees, usually having missed it several times before finding it. There, you disembarked for a long, ass-over-teakettle tumble down the side of a steep hill before reaching the "house".

The "house" - a term we use loosely - was a tar paper shack that would have made Snuffy Smith's cabin look like the Taj Mahal. Water was carried by bucket from an unprotected spring a quarter mile up the hill. The toilet was an ancient outhouse filled with the most incredible stink you can imagine. To use it, you squatted on a splintered board over an open hole and wiped your ass with pages from a Spiegel catalog (they were too poor to spring for a Sears catalog). You bathed - when it wasn't too cold or the water wasn't running dangerously high - in a creek that ran along the back of the property. The house, filled with live chickens living alongside the human folk, was heated by an ancient pot-bellied stove. Our Grandparents once disassembled and burned the dining room of the house to keep warm when the snow was too high to get out and cut wood. The menu at dinner was most likely squirrel, spuds, and maybe a biscuit. For a fancy meal, our Grandfather killed a hen past her prime. Did you know that chickens really do run around like chickens with their heads cut off? We remember when electricity came to the house. The power company strung the wire from the back of a mule.

So the point is this - most people in this country know little about this kind of life and El Presidente is several more steps farther removed than most. All he and his entourage know about poor people came from briefing papers delivered on a silver platter and accompanied by the finest coffee, served in fine china, on an antique tablecloth. To him, poverty is best represented by a Beverly Hillbillies marathon.

He once famously bragged that he never reads newspapers. Displaying monumental arrogance, he said they never held anything that he didn't already know. He chuckled as he said it because he actually believes it. He talks big about "hard work", but nothing ever seems to get done. The closest he comes to empathy for the poor is to give speeches in "hick-speak" so thick our Grandfather - who only had a third grade education - would be embarrassed.

And therein is the real knock against Cowboy George. He's an equal opportunity hater. It doesn't matter if you are black or white, as long as you don't interrupt his vacation. After all, it's "hard work" being The President.

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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Tuesday, September 13, 2005

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Americans - We're a Hearty Breed

Even though death and pestilence rains down on us daily, we Americans somehow manage to slog through. There's no surer way to know that things are returning to "normal" than to gage what's up in the world of pop culture. We may be a war-mongering, clueless frat boy-electing, religious nut-loving, destroyers-of-the-environment bunch, but we know how to focus on what's really important. Except for a few hob-nobbers of the ruling elite, there'll be no opera for we common folk. Nope, we turn to fast food, Desperate Housewives, and now, video headstones to divert us from the chaos that has become our "normal" world.

That's right, video headstones. The Serenity Panel - another in a long and distinguished list of crap we don't need, but that fascinates us - contains a solar-powered video panel that plays a clip highlighting your loved one's life. The maker, Vidstone LLC, doesn't produce the video. They leave that important bit up to you. No word on what is to keep some jokester from loading up a porn video on a continuous loop just to piss off the neighbors. Come on! I'm surely not the only one who had that idea!

The 32-year old owner of Vidstone, Sergio "Fistfull of Dollars" Aguirre, quit his "telecommunications" (read "telemarketer") day job to run the company. These days they call people like him an entrepreneur. In my day we called them raving loons, but perhaps that's just a matter of semantics.

Despite not having sold any, Sergio claims to have orders from several families eager to be the first in their cemetery with this "must-have" gadget. However, despite low sales, he claims that it has generated plenty of buzz in the funeral industry - yet more proof that dangerous chuckleheads run funeral parlors these days. It must be the formaldehyde fumes or maybe they're just tired of posing dead people in humorous positions all day.

Sergio got the idea for the $1500 "multimedia mourning center" at a wake for his father-in-law - no doubt making the old boy proud of the catch his daughter made. According to Serge, the crying and glum wake suddenly turned into a real party when someone showed a video tribute of dear old Dad holding a martini and wearing a pink boa and top hat. We know we've been to many a funeral where we wished someone would put on a gag reel of a drunken cross-dresser. It just makes the occasion so much more, oh we don't know, festive.

So here's to us Americans. Here's to our spunk and drive, our entrepreneurial spirit. We may have managed to elect the Anti-Christ himself, but by damn, we know how to have fun.

Thanks Sergio. We needed that.

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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Monday, September 12, 2005

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Four Years On

It's that most awful of anniversaries today. Four years and a million miles away it is a day that the country takes stock, remembers the dead from that tragic day, and looks forward to healing our nation.

We'd like to report that the four years since that disaster had unified us and made us determined to move ahead into a better future. Instead, we have a new disaster and a polarization of our populace like we haven't seen since the Civil War.

Our sincere hope is that our President begins listen to what more than half of his country is telling him and start dealing with real problems instead of pretending as though they don't exist. We call on him to make good on his famous campaign promise of being a "uniter not a divider". If he doesn't, we fear the next anniversary of this tragedy will see even worse turmoil than already grips us.

And that would be the biggest tragedy of all.

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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Sunday, September 11, 2005

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We Interrupt Disaster Coverage for This Short Comic Break

We are fulfilling our civic duty today by bringing you a little levity among the cataclysmic downfall of the country. After all, you've got to laugh...or you'll cry. Herewith are some nuggets of humor rescued from the fetid waters of the Gulf Coast:
  • Assault With a Deadly Porpoise - Last Tuesday's edition of the comic strip Dilbert underwent a transformation because editors in some areas of the country thought the strip "wouldn't fly", according to creator Scott Adams. The transgression? A dolphin attacks a lawyer in the ass. Personally, we weren't offended - we wanted to give Adams an award.
  • Now That's Good TV! - Producers for the Dutch version of the reality show Big Brother have announced a spin-off that will document a woman's search for a sperm donor and feature the artificial insemination at the culmination of the search. Apparently, the producers need to push the envelope a bit to remain competitive. The new show will be up against a show featuring five prostitutes who open a cafĂ©. We don't know about you, but we'll be tuning in to the competition.
  • Under Secretary for Spin - Longtime friend of Dear Leader, Karen Hughes, has gotten a promotion to Under Secretary of State for Public Diplomacy. In the ambassadorial-level post, she'll be charged with making the Chimp-in-Chief look good to our enemies and few remaining allies. No word yet on whether she'll be getting training as a magician before starting the new job.
  • Rock Exposes Midget Hate - Comedian Chris Rock broke the tension at last night's, Shelter From the Storm: A Concert for the Gulf Coast benefit with a joke that, "George Bush hates midgets". Rock was referring to rapper Kanye West's charge on live television last week that the Bushster hates black people. However, we doubt George really hates midgets. We hear he's a rabid fan of Saturday Night Midget Bowling on ESPN. Pass the pretzels!
  • But That's How You Get Mardi Gras Beads Silly- At the height of the New Orleans' flooding fiasco, a group of female survivors requesting rescue were told by their potential life savers to flash them if they wanted out. When the women refused, the rescuers turned the boat around and sped away. Perhaps the Shrub can have point man Dick Cheney come down and at least give the women some Mardi Gras beads as a consolation prize.
  • Man, This is More Fun Than Being Indicted - House Majority Leader Tom "the Hammer" DeLay visited survivors in Houston's Reliant Park on Friday. Stopping to chat with three young evacuees, he demonstrated his fabled social skills by asking the boys, "Now tell me the truth boys, is this kind of fun?" After the puzzled kids nodded yes, DeLay added, "Now you all understand that this is entirely the fault of your state and local officials, don't you? Because one thing Uncle Tommy would hate to do would be to have to send you all to a camp that isn't any fun at all." It's good to know we can count on "Uncle Tommy" not to play "the blame game".
  • Wait Until George Gets a Load of This - Rather than trying to spin his image or promoting his favorite PR flack to Ministress of Disinformation, the Prime Minister of Thailand just cuts to the chase. If reporters ask a question he considers "not constructive", he just sounds a buzzer and an X appears. A firm believer in Pavlovian technique, he also sounds a "pleasant tone" and an O appears when he likes the question. We're sure Furious George would love this gadget. "Turd Blossom, fetch me one of them Thailandwanese thingies will ya?"
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Truth Told by Omnipotent Poobah, Saturday, September 10, 2005

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