Friday, January 18, 2008

MR. TRUCK DRY-VAH: The Saga Continues

Do to the overwhelming, popular demand from our readers for more of the exploits of our hero, we will be chronicling some of his past on this blog. The latest of many entries appears below. Warning: Some of what you are about to read is graphic in nature and may not be suitable for kids, Jews or accountants. Reader discretion is advised.

Part One


The med-evac chopper raised a swirling cloud of sand as it landed in the pre-dusk haze. The heat from the day still rose from the hard-packed sand as an Army medic and a young Army trauma surgeon waited for the chopper blades to tire. They had been radioed about the casualty they were about to receive; the field medic conveyed the pertinent clinical information to the surgical hospital over a background of battle. The young doc back at the hospital miles from the front knew he faced a great challenge but doubted he would ever be forced to confront it. The wounds described to him by the field medic told the young surgeon that this particular patient would never survive the evac flight. Still, despite his reservations and to his surprise the side door of the chopper was sliding open and grunts baring a stretcher were rushing out. They half walked-half ran towards the waiting gurney the surgeon stood next to. They looked at him angrily, almost with menace. One of them smacked the surgeon hard across the side of his head, another was screaming insanely in his ear. The surgeon thought for a moment he was trapped in a dream, a surreal scenario spun up by his sleeping mind. That thought did not remain intact for a nanosecond; he knew this was all real.

As one of the infantry soldiers kept bellowing in his ear and the other prepared to smack him again, he finally glanced down at the wounded warrior before him. The man was huge, enormous, actually, with severe head, thorax and abdominal wounds. Pressure bandages had been placed atop other blood soaked pressure bandages. There was an IV into each arm. How could a human being survive such dramatic trauma?, thought the young surgeon. Suddenly his thoughts were broken as he felt himself being pulled close to the wreckage on the gurney. How was this happening? He then realized that the brutally wounded man before him was not only alive but wide awake and pulling the surgeon towards him by the collar of his scrub shirt. In a second they were literally nose to nose amid the clamor and chaos of the landing pad. The young surgeon was fixated on the eyes of his patient. Suddenly, in a clear, steady voice the wounded man spoke. “Hey, how about it, hello come in? What do I gotta do to get a cup a coffee in this clusterfuck?”

The others present reacted quicker than did the startled surgeon. They began wheeling the gurney towards the triage room. As the surgeon trotted behind them to keep up, one of the grunts who arrived with the wounded giant turned and yelled over his shoulder, “Now you don’t worry Doc. You just do what you gotta do. He’ll do the rest. He’s a truck driver, Doc. That’s right a real, genuine American truck driver. Now get your bony ass in there and get to fixin my friend or I’ll rip your spleen out.”

Part Two

He was aware of his surroundings but the opiates had found their way to his cerebellum. He felt no pain, just some soreness like he got when he rode a mechanical bull. He had a headache, was very tired but, worst of all, he needed a fuckin cigarette. He heard the choppers coming and going, felt the wind driven sand on exposed flesh and heard shouting as he sensed he was being wheeled indoors. Suddenly, he was freezing; colder than he had ever been before. Colder even than that night on Battle Mountain when he was forced to replace a U-joint in a blizzard with only a pair of pliers and some JB Weld. He opened his eyes fully and knew he was in some sort of hospital. The medical people scurrying around him wore concerned looks on their faces. One, a pretty blonde nurse with a cute ass caught his attention. He grabbed her ass as she raced by but did not stop. He knew she’d be back; they always were.

Things started moving fast around him although the mega-dose of morphine he’d received on the chopper prevented him from feeling anything like urgency. He was simply content to lay on that gurney as his bandages and clothes were cut off him. Suddenly, the medics and nurses hurriedly scissoring off the bandages ducked down in unison. As one, they all suddenly disappeared as the sound of a huge explosion rocked the triage room. He thought this was funny. He smiled. He knew why they all ducked and feared for their lives. This made him laugh. His laughter brought forth another tremendous blast, the concussive force of which knocked several fillings out of the teeth of the hunkered down medical staff. He was proud that he still had the ability to fart like a Brahma bull grazing on chile. Hail, they think that was a bunker-buster, he thought to himself. He knew it was merely the by product of the last Flying-J buffet he had eaten before finding himself on the ground in Baghdad.

To be continued…


Copyright © 2008 TBC All Rights Reserved

Thursday, January 17, 2008

ARE THOSE PROSTITUTES IN THE CONVENT?

Nope, Just Voters At The Ballot Box

Fernley, NV (Jan. 17, 2008. TBC) Every presidential candidate running this year has a huge turd floating in their respective punch bowl. Their parades are being rained on, all sorts of dogs are having all kinds of days, what went around is coming back around, lead balloons are falling from above in profusion, skinned cats roam the alleys at night, cakes are being made and eaten by their bakers and, as Mike Jaggar once said, “You can’t always get what you want”. Yes indeed. This primary season is the political equivalent of a no-holds-barred, tag team, steel cage, anything goes, no referees, drunken free-for-all in some seedy roadhouse. And isn’t it just great?

At this point in time it seems those candidates who have posted a victory in a straw poll, caucus or primary actually outnumber those who haven’t. What this says about all of them, all of us, our current president, the state of our union, society, culture and economy will fill libraries in years to come. For now, it simply is what it is: a time of reckoning is upon us and, by golly, the pollsters, pundits and talking heads are apoplectic. The variables and influences, factors, facts, fears and frustrations that have driven us to this point are far too numerous and complex to begin to detail. They too shall be well documented in the years ahead.

All sorts of new age jargon was invented just for this time in our political life: we are seeing a “New Paradigm” emerge, we are at a “Tipping Point”, the “Dynamism” is unparalleled, “Networks”, “Synergies”, “Cyberspaces” and “Viral Videos” have supplanted what once was familiar turf. We have had and seen enough from our government and elected officials over the last 40 years, that now, all bets are off, it is a Brave New World and just about 292 days until someone is elected to be our next president. Have mercy! Experience versus Change? What is a country to do?

The only familiar items in this vastly unfamiliar landscape are politicians and bullshit; neither have really evolved or been altered in any substantial way. They are what they are, always have been and always will be. They have had to adjust and adapt in the case of the former, and learn to travel farther and faster in the case of the latter. These two items have earned their vaunted listing on that most preciously short list. Politicians and bullshit join cockroaches and Twinkies as the only things on earth that can survive a thermonuclear conflagration. Sadly, the mighty cockroach and the deliciously synthetic Twinkie are both diminished in stature by association with their two new fellow listees.

Syrupy preacher, aw-shucks Mike Huckabee and Obama, the Inspirational Orator capture the bogus Iowa Caucuses. New Hampshire allows the tears of Hillary and the bloviating of McCain to each claim first place. Michigan is so depressed they believed Mitt Romney while “Undecided” finished ahead of Hillary. Now Nevada and South Carolina and all the various components of each make them uniquely important as this freewheeling brawl continues. All sorts of things are being added to this sloppy, dirty, festering tumbleweed like JFK ,Martin Luther King, Civil Rights, Lyndon Johnson, Viet Nam POW’s, high school drug usage, Muslims, Mormons, morons, lobbyists, lawyers, lay-offs, then, now and, bizarrely, Ross Perot has been sighted somewhere between nowhere, Texas and Hilton Head.

One of these people may actually be our next president? Keep thinking about that. Think about it long enough and you can imagine a barren, scorched earth with bullshitting politicians scarfing down Twinkies while cockroaches scurry about.

Copyright © 2008 TBC All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

HILLARY’S TRUE COLORS

New York, New York (Jan.14, 2007) News Commentary.

Perhaps it was inevitable; an omnipresent built-in hazard that was bound to pose a navigational challenge. It may seem a little disingenuous as the talking heads express their collective dismay, shock, incredulousness or quickly dismiss it all as a “non-issue.” For those who are puzzled that it has even come up, such noble naivety is as blissful as boulder-like ignorance. Please. It was there all along; we all saw it and, maybe thought, that somehow it would not really be an issue. Wow…how foolhardy was that!

Possibly some of the dismay among us is in the specifics rather than the issue itself. Not the “what” but the “who”. Many folks thought it would arise, loom over this campaign landscape like a malignant, centuries old volcano causing tremors before a major eruption. Now that the tremors have hit, the faults are being exposed, the stresses within the tectonic plates finally nearing critical mass.

As those forces seek release, the bedrock, no match for the pressure accumulated over all those decades, they have found escape in a multitude of increasingly wide fissures. Now that this elemental process has begun, there is no stopping it.

Beyond the shameful fact that this issue has now come to the light of day, the deliberate words that triggered this are more troubling still because of from where they originated. They are more vile because they came from within, from those thought to be friends. It was not too long ago that Hillary Clinton proclaimed to a reporter that she was in a “biracial marriage”. This was an obvious play employing the once semi-popular notion in certain segments of the African American community that Bill Clinton was the “first black president”. My how times and sentiments have changed. Priorities have shifted, no?

Certainly it would have been less of a surprise attack had it come from the right, the extreme right wing of the republican party. No, that could have been anticipated and surely deflected by the Obama team. That would have been typical right wing ignorance and dirty tactics; race bating, as a political tool, was invented by them. But, when the stink bomb is tossed in to your own living room by a house guest, that says something profoundly important about your guest. They are not and never were your friends; they pandered and played along under the auspices of mutual benefit as a means to an end.

There is no end to the clich├ęs and analogies applicable to this scenario. As it is said “those closest to you can hurt you the most”. After all these years of the Clinton’s championing their close ties to the African American community, the fact that this first salvo of racial missiles was launched by Bill and Hillary’s own hands is beyond disappointing, way beyond an insult.

And so the true colors of Hillary are revealed; the color of ambition and political expediency, the color of political strategy and take no prisoners tactics.

The very fact that Hillary allegedly cannot understand how in the world her comments about Senator Obama, about Dr. Martin Luther King, and all her campaign’s plants of pieces of rumor and innuendo could be misunderstood, clearly demonstrates just how little she actually knows and cares about her “black constituency”.

Copyright © 2008 TBC All Rights Reserved

Monday, January 14, 2008

CLINTONS LAUNCH MAJOR STRIKE

OBAMA’S WIFE TARGETED
HILLARY DEFENDS TACTIC ON MEET THE PRESS

Spartanburg, SC (Jan 13, 2008. TBC Exclusive) An enormous salvo of shit rockets were dropped on the Barak Obama presidential campaign in the past 12 hours, compliments of Hillary Clinton’s operatives. The viciousness of the media assault has rendered the Obama campaign speechless. The majority of observers, pundits and politicians have called the sneak attack a political “Pearl Harbor”.

In a rapidly released series of e-mails, faxes, press releases and Clinton staff members statements, the press was alerted of the existence of evidence related to the allegedly sordid past of Barak Obama’s wife, Michelle.

Team Hillary claims to have a wealth of proof to support their allegations that Michelle Obama had worked as a stripper, lap dancer and nude model in the years before she met and married her husband, democratic presidential contender, Barak Obama. Obama is currently locked in a hotly contested, extremely tight race with the former first lady. Some of the evidence the Clinton campaign has provided to the public is of a dubious nature while other items appear to be true.

According to some of the documents released by Team Hillary, Michelle Robinson, was an attractive young high school graduate in Chicago, awaiting her freshman year at Princeton University when she first entered the world of ‘adult entertainment’.

It was June, 1981 when Fraiser and Marion Robinson’s only daughter graduated with honors from Whitney Young High School. She had been accepted at the prestigious university and planned to arrive on campus in late August. Her parents, both blue collar workers, would struggle to provide the financial resources for their daughter to pursue her dreams and the costly higher education she sought. Michelle was working that summer at a men’s clothing store on Lower Wackar Drive as a sales clerk. As the Clinton provided documents state, it was while working in that job that she was first introduced to Horace “Mandingo” Huggins, a former Black Panther, drug dealer and minor league outfielder for the White Sox. By the summer of 1981 Huggins was the owner and operator of a topless bar and strip club, Slappy Pappy’s Apple Bottom Club on Chicago’s south side.

Allegedly, Huggins was attracted to the pretty, young, intelligent sales clerk and he began to shower her with gifts. She started to date Huggins a few weeks after they met and, according to various documents and personal accounts, Michelle took a job at Huggins’ bar. Despite being a minor, Michelle worked a late afternoon shift as a topless barmaid. She became impressed by the cash she was making and soon quit her job as a clerk while hiding her new experiences from her hard working parents.

Huggins, presently serving a 9 to 21 year sentence in Joliet State Prison for manslaughter, possession of an illegal substance, soliciting a minor for anal sex and jaywalking, was recently interviewed by Clinton campaign operatives. According to the transcript of that jail house meeting, Huggins’ recounted his earliest association with Michelle Robinson. “ I had me an account at The Ebony Haberdashery where I bought all my threads from. One day I’m in there pickin’ up a purple three-piece suit and I sees this fine piece o’ ace behind the counter. I talks with her and after a few weeks she workin’ in my club. Let me tell y’all somethin’ ‘bout this dime...she was fine, ass like whoa, legs that didn’t stop, cute little perky titties. Yea, she was fine and afore too long she was spendin’ nights with me in my crib. Lawdy, that sista, once she put her lips on your manhood, she’d curl your toes”.

According to Huggins, Michelle became very popular with his clientele and was eager to have an opportunity as a pole-dancer. She was an instant favorite among the blue-collar workers, ex-cons, pimps, junkies, bookies, Mayor Daley staffers, scum bags and civil rights activists who frequented the club. Delroy Meeks, a regular patron at Slaapy’s, told a TBC reporter that “I was watchin TV one night and I seen this brotha be runnin for president. Next thing I sees is he bringin’ his wife up on the stage. I says to myself, day-yam...that hoe, I know her when she shook her ace back in the day. I gave her a ten spot one night and she did things to me that a man never forget”.

Retired Chicago detective Stanley K. Berserka, related to Clinton staffers his recollection of young Michelle Robinson: “I was working vice in that sleazy neighborhood. We all knew that dirt ball mope Huggins. I remember one night he walked this little chocolate twist to his Chrysler LaBaron. That little gal had an ass on her that would bring a dead man to full attention. She was a pretty little thing and I remember thinking that , she must really have the hots for Huggins cause she was buck ass naked walking across that alley. She jumped into that Chrysler and they was gone”.

Former President Bill Clinton appeared on Fox news Sunday this morning with Hustler Magazine publisher Larry Flynt. Mr. Flynt claims to have nude photographs of the young, nubile Michelle Robinson. Flynt also claims that Michelle entered a booty shaking contest in Fort Lauderdale, Florida in July 1981 and, after she won first place she posed nude for his magazine. Bill Clinton corroborates Flynt’s statements saying, “ I was at that booty contest. Actually, I was a judge and I’ll tell you why. I was Governor of Arkansas and it was widely known in the wet T-shirt, rump shaking circuit that I had a keen eye and a good appreciation for female flesh. I saw that gal who is now married to Obama shakin her ace, squeezin’ her nipples up on stage and I knew, immediately , she had a future. She had ‘First Lady’ written all over her. She also had a tattoo on her left buttocks that said ‘100% USDA Prime Rump’. I damned near fell in love”.

The remainder of the document dump only bolsters the allegations as have been described herein. Some of the more detailed facts catalogue Michelle Robinson’s nude modeling career and her days as a featured dancer at Slappy’s.

Certainly, a vigorous response is anticipated from the Obama campaign although, as most political journalists have already noted, a severe blow has been dealt to the Obama campaign.

Bob Novak of the Chicago Sun Times and Fox News commented, “ I saw her dance and strip in a relatively classless club years ago. In those days I drank cheap well whiskey and tipped strippers like a drunken sailor in Manila. When I first saw Barak Obama at a campaign stop 13 months ago, my left testicle fell into my orthopedic sock. The woman who clung to his arm that day was immediately recognizable to me...she was Booty Clapping Queen from some dive on the south side. Just seeing her again after all these years , touched and aroused me in a way that I’ve not experienced since the night I took 14 Cialis tablets and washed them down with a quart of Red Bull.”

Copyright © 2008 TBC All Rights Reserved