Late to this, but I have to say all the restaurant analogies for the rocky start to the Obamacare.gov exchanges have been pretty amusing. Either the site was as slammed as a Shake Shack or the whole program was hopelessly in the weeds. The reality is somewhere in between: The Health Department finally showed up to try to keep the cooks from spreading Hep A, and it might disrupt service a bit till the customers are covered, too. Too bad safely insured journamalists are all wannabe Yelpsters now.
Archive for the ‘wingnuttery’ Category
Panchito certainly has exquisite timing, lecturing his fellow citizens on overeating just as many millions risk losing their buck-forty-a-meal food stamps. And someone needs to alert him to why those poor souls don’t do their binge buying at Costco: Walmart doesn’t charge a minimum of a buck-a-week membership fee.
Speaking of the edible safety net, I’m kind of mystified as to why the supermarket industry is sitting by silently while soulless wingnuts threaten to cut stores’ income by $40 billion. It’s not as if the poors eat their debit cards. . . .
The latest reminder that I should type faster: Skittles have overtaken broccoli as the sad fud in the news. Before that, wingnuts were spewing spittle over the report that the Big O told kiddles his favorite edible is broccoli. I’m half with ‘em — it’s a weird choice. But even if it were a whopper, was it really worse than the Chimp and his yellowcake? Oh. Right. One was a white lie.
One of the most depressing stories I’ve read in some time was about a free summer lunch program for kids in one of the states that make up the richest country in the world. People are worried about ducks getting force-fed for foie gras, and here’s a whole generation being undernourished. What was doubly depressing was seeing what was on offer. Suffice it to say I’m just glad I grew up poor before Lunchables. Also, too: Call food stamps what they are — supermarket subsidies — and you’d see them busting the budget.
At least the big head of a burger chain understands that tits and asses sell ground-up cow on a bun. Too bad he seems to think employing healthy people to handle the end product is just too expensive, even with Big Gubmint coming to his rescue as he screams “no.” Just as sad was the NYTimes story about the epidemic of diabetes in Vietnam in just the last few years as American fast food has taken hold. That’s one way to win a war, with Big Pharma moving in to rake up all the dough. Wonder if all the wingnuts screaming about the cost of Amtrak upscaling its cafe cars have any idea what taxpayers are shelling out for a gallon of gas for the pointless exercise in Afghanistan. Hint? The price of lunch for two at the French Laundry 11 years ago.
One of the best developments since Al Gore invented the series of tubes is that Americans no longer have to slog through sanitized versions of how the Congressional sausage is made. We can search out our own information on these dunces and bag men/women to whom reporters have to pander to retain access. And Jeebus, is that ever helpful with the farm bill. The great Heidi Moore has a superb analysis of the epic fail, but she only touches on the hypocrisy on shameful display. A farmer who rakes in the federal bucks actually wanted to cut food stamps because they’re like stealing. As always, the question remains: Stupid or evil? Or both?
I stole this from the comments on one of the many blogs that keep me dicking around on the Internets rather than creating anything for anyone else to pick to pieces: “There’s a reason Somalia has no Mickey D’s.” Apparently the only thing you build yourself is the E. coli.
But I wrote this, so I’m posting this: Real wingnuts don’t drink the KoolAid. Soda’s what’s bringing them down. First the bartender who exposed Rmoney as a soulless money grubber comes out to say he was motivated to videograph after not getting even a thank-you for pouring the sugar water. Then the Wasilla Hillbilly “goes down on a Big Gulp” and tries to turn it into Liberty symbolism. Apparently immigrants are welcome, as long as they come clutching half a gallon of Freedom Fizz.
Not sure what they think about this in Fargo, but support for background checks for gun owners in this country is even stronger than for Italian food. Good thing Congresscritters don’t get to vote on whether we’re allowed to eat “paninis.”
Also, too, it’s beyond amusing to watch everyone freaking out about getting droned while “sitting in a cafe.” The odds of being done in at table by the gubmint are much more likely with uninspected food. And of course with silly mandated budget cuts the sound of hooves gets closer every day. I don’t know why a country that eats hot dogs is queasy about the other red meat — you’re getting worked up about Mr. Ed in meatballs when there’s poop bacteria in cakes at the same store? Pretty funny that we’re actually at the point where the absence of meat in the beef potpie is considered a good thing.
You have to wonder about a state (Hoosiers’) that wants to require two transvaginal ultrasounds if a woman chooses to exercise her legal right to an abortion but that also insists it’s unconstitutional to allow anyone to photograph/videograph a factory farm. Apparently they would have no problem with force-feeding and gestation-confining women. And in Oklahoma a nutcase blocked a law banning texting while driving because, you know, it’s a slippery slope to the long arm of the law snatching Whoppers out of drivers’ hands. Oklahoma, of course, is where the new abortion laws were so overreaching a court just struck them down. Apparently a woman can do what she wants with her phone and her diet, but all her lady parts belong to the state.
Not sure this was quite the right week to run a feature exploring what the wrecking crew literally feeding at the public trough is eating these days. They get the Styrofoam cafeteria; we get the screws. Considering Congresscritters poll lower than cockroaches lately, maybe next Wednesday we can be treated to what’s cooking in the Cheney bunker. (Chickenhawk heart, probably.)
Back to pol porn: I know this is stale water, but the ship of stools got away from me, so: If campaigns are going to be conducted like Tin Chef, the Party of Stupid really needs to ramp up the production values. Or at least media-train candidates in the art of ingesting under the cruel eye of a camera amplified on YouTube. Never let your lunging distract from your lying . . .
Just back from Philadelphia, I know a couple more words for smashed (squiffy and zozzled) and a great euphemism for hooch (jag juice). But mostly, thanks to the totally vaut-le-voyage Prohibition exhibition, I have the perfect epithet for so many wingnuts, and more than a few “celebrity” chefs. And that would be the one applied to anti-booze William Jennings Bryan: “idol of all morondom.”