What's with your $#%@ schedule?!

So last week I posted only two posts, one of which was basically pro-forma, and this week I post 2 or 3 times a day? WTF?!

It's like this: I have a life. I have two cats and a job and a motorcycle. I have relatives who visit who need to be shown around town. I have things that happen, like, say, my car breaking down, that I need to take care of. Or some crisis at work requires 16 hour days until it's fixed.

But what about my duty to my three loyal readers, you ask? What duty is that, I ask? I post because I look around and get pissed off by what has happened to my country since the days of my childhood when America was the land of opportunity, land of the free, and home of the brave. I post because living in the land of the chickenhawk, the armchair warrior, the all mouth no balls loot-the-treasury Big Government Republican, torture apologist neo-fascists is getting me major peeved and I either gotta rant or imbibe massive quantities of alcohol and frankly ranting is better for my health. I don't post because of my three readers, though of course I do appreciate their contributions.

And some weeks, I'm just pissed off enough to post 2 or 3 times a day... or at 4:53am (California time) when I'm tossing and turning in my bed, wondering what the hell is wrong with sick SOB's who can make straight-faced apologies for torture and nobody who is anybody seems to ever call them on their bullshit and call it what it is: bullshit by people who get a woodie at the thought of hurting other people, sick sadistic bastards who probably kick dogs and kill cats (hell, who we *KNOW* kill cats, in the case of the sick sadistic bastard Bill Frist), and a supine press that is content to be a transcriptionist and apologist for torturers and cat killers and pesticide-addled bug killers. And some weeks, I decide my mental health is better off going the Soma Nation route and tuning out and doing something else, like the 90% of Americans who don't give a shit about anything outside of their own immediate family and friends because to give a shit would require, like, fuckin' BALLS, and they had their fuckin' balls cut off at birth and handed to The Man on a plate and they're good little fuckin' monkeys going hooo hooo hoo hoo HOOO! and throwing their own feces at anybody who dares point out the point that they're just a bunch of jumped-up monkeys with shit for brains going through their life like brainless robots doing what they've been programmed from birth to do and never possessing a single original thought or doing a single meaningful thing in their entire pathetic useless lives....

And now it is 5:04 AM California time, and I am going back to bed.

-- Badtux the Sleepless Penguin