Friday, February 1, 2008


Oh, Chuck...

We are the most stereotyped people in the country; we are probably , also, the most observed. In every nook and cranny, town and village , from coast to coast, folks sit and watch TV programs and movies with the greatest city on the planet as the backdrop, New York, New York.

Stereotypes, as are widely acknowledged, are the direct byproduct of ignorance. Ignorance, in many incarnations can be forgiven. Stupidity, however, a variant of ignorance, cannot. Particularly, it cannot be explained nor forgiven, when it comes from the mouth of a 5 term United States Senator. This particular man, and that noun is used lightly, chose to insert himself into a debate that did not only not exist, but was so far above his god-given intellect and life experience, that it is amazing his comments even appeared in print.

But, they did.

So now, we have to discuss the republican Senator from Iowa, that’s right Iowa, Charles “Chuck” Grassley. Now, if you don’t follow politics very closely or watch C-Span around the clock, you may never have heard or seen this Alzheimic fool from the ‘fields of dreams’. If that’s the case, perhaps a brief description of our man of the moment is in order.

Chuck Grassley: an incumbent republican senator from of, all places, a state of absolutely no significance manages to be an incumbent for decades. How, you might ask, does a moronic, myopic, addled ass-wipe retain such a position.

The answer is simple. Chuck Grassley is a whore. He sucks, licks and feasts on the genitals of all sorts of huge corporations involved in agriculture. He has presided over senate committees of , at best , dubious value; more akin to lynch squads than actual governmental bodies. Chuck is a douche. He washes funds from all the conglomerated special interests into his own campaign chest and the small change goes back to Iowa in the form of pork barrel spending so they can have another ‘Butter Cow’ at their pitiful state fair.

Come to New York City someday, Chuck, before the prions eroding your tiny brain render you a drooling turnip. Actually, that would probably be justice in an odd sense. Since you have been such a staunch supporter and advocate for commercial agriculture, it is only fitting that your own senility be linked to all the nitrogen, potash, urea, RoundUp, Atrazine, Tordon, Canopy, Magnum Plus and other petrochemicals you and your asshole cohorts so liberally spray across your fields. How many toes do your grandchildren have, Chuck?

There was no reason to get this angry until you stepped into turf that your bumpkin ass should never have seen. You, Chuck, were one of the few enormously ignorant, arrogant, small-minded senators who thought Homeland Security funding should be allocated the same as federal highway funds. You dick. You scumbag. You pompous idiot! How dare you think Iowa or any other fucking “Cornbelt” state has anywhere near the risk level as the major metropolitan centers in this country. For that alone you, you old wrinkled fucker, should rot in hell. If not hell, you should spend about 70,000 years in Purgatory thinking about your terrible errors in judgment.

We are all glad you thought about us Chuck. We never heard of you but now, that we know who you are and who you represent; all bets are off. Not even the Jews will donate campaign funds anymore. You better not run for reelection. You will be spanked.

Mr. Grassley, your state is a barren wasteland populated by minimally functional dirt bags. Your state is the manure capital of the world and you, sir, are the king of it all.

From the good and kind people of New York City, the number one tourist destination on the planet, from the safest large city in America, from the capital of entertainment, finance, commerce and intelligence, we give you a fine and hardy Bronx Cheer: Fuck You, Chuck. Fuck You and everyone you have ever known, loved or spoken to. Fuck you and your relatives, pets, livestock, lobbyists and staffers. Fuck you, Chuck. Drink some ethanol...let’s see how that works out for you. You are a disgrace to the senate, (which isn’t saying much) to middle America (which is saying less) and to morons around the world.

Chuck, at 74 years of age it’s safe to say you are closer to the end than you are to the beginning. For your many sins, Chuck, you may have to spend eternity in Jersey...oops, that would be like a day at the beach...The Good Lord will keep your sorry soul restless, drifting in the swirling winds of that place that sucks the marrow from your bones...Iowa.

Copyright © 2008 TBC All Rights Reserved

Thursday, January 31, 2008


(Jan. 31 New York, New York) Every now and then you hear something that stops you in your tracks; something that is so beyond understanding or reason that you can do no more than shake your head in amazement. Often, politicians are the source for some of the most outrageous, idiotic, asinine, irrelevant comments. The latest in the long list of buffoons who were somehow voted into office several decades ago and have remained in office is Chuck Grassley, the “Iowa Intellect”, republican senator and all around jerk off.

Mr. Grassley, who loves to hear the sound of his own nasal twang on the radio and TV, never one to run from a camera, thrust himself into controversy with his comments regarding the failed presidential run of former NYC Mayor, Rudy Giuliani. To ask “what was he thinking?” would be to imply that he is capable of thought. Chuck Grassley, incumbent senior senator from, of all the godforsaken places, Iowa, had the gall to criticize New Yorker’s and our ‘personalities’. That’s odd, Chuck, because the only living entities in your state with personality are hogs and fat cows.

Senator Grassley, a man who has been bought and paid for by the big agribusiness conglomerates that rule rural America, the multinational pharmaceutical firms that make seed, fertilizer and have old Chuck living in their hip pockets. Chuck Grassley who never saw a subsidy he didn’t vote for and actual receive. This scumbag, imbecilic, dimwitted, inbred, waste of a carcass, just decades out of the outhouse, actually said things about a place and a people he knows absolutely nothing about. But, then again, one of the surest hallmarks of a true idiot is their ability to speak about anything without knowing anything.

Iowa, a fertile land with soil and groundwater contaminated from decades of fertilizers, chemicals and manure run offs all for the benefit of our heroic “family farmers.” That term alone is archaic; today’s farmers are hugely subsidized businessmen who happened to inherit land from Pa and Grandpa. Without the federal government, the American taxpayer, supporting them, they would not survive a year. These obese, barely literate, small minded, greedy schmoes are the biggest welfare recipients in the history of America. Oh, but don’t tell them that. No sireee. They see themselves as the salt of the earth, as honest, decent, hardworking folks providing cheap food for the world by their labors. Horse shit. These guys are corn and bean growers. Very little of their crop goes into food products that we eat; it goes into feed for livestock, industrial usages galore and now, the latest rage – ethanol. The best kept secret in the country today is that the American citizen literally supports farmers and farming in America. If they had to fend for themselves in a free market, without all the deals, loans, subsidies, crop insurance, fertilizer-chemical-seed company rebates, they wouldn’t be able to compete, let alone live the way they do.

And make no mistake about it; they live large, thanks to you, me and Uncle Sam. They work, tops, 12 weeks a year: six for planting, six for harvesting. What do they do the rest of the time? Eat, bullshit, eat, lie to each other, boink each others wives and daughters, eat some more, drink some more, collect government handouts, eat, check the mail box for the next subsidy check, drink some more, complain about how hard they have it, put up another mailbox so they can receive more government checks, drive around in expensive pick-ups, gossiping about their neighbors, figure out other ways to get more handouts, drink, fart, belch and think they are so much better than the rest of the country especially those poor fools who live in New York City or Los Angeles. What a sorry bunch of turds these folks are. They are Chuck Grassley’s constituency…they deserve each other.

But, once Chuck decides to stick his farmers shit-covered boot into his trash talking mouth, well, then it’s time to lay it all out. Iowa sucks. Iowans suck. Farmers are welfare cheats, lazy, greedy, slugs with their hands out. That’s it. Chuck, just take your bribes, let your asshole neighbors think you’re God and fuck off. God Bless you. Have a nice day.

A Faccia De Morte

Copyright © 2008 TBC All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, January 30, 2008



Patience have been exercised, restraint as well. Deep breaths and steps back have been taken. Moments to reflect have elapsed. Perspective has been sought, found and kept. Powder has been kept dry. This silence, at first, was the result of shock; something akin to the catatonic state a victim of extreme emotional overload may lapse into. Once the pseudo-catatonia subsided, the silence was a form of pride. It was the highroad taken; it would have been so much easier to gloat. Most would have. We didn’t.

Each contest leading towards the Conference Championship was an underdogs struggle to disprove common knowledge. For the faithful, every one of those games was an experience in daring to hope, not just for a victory but, ultimately for exorcism. Too many ghosts roamed the arena; too many memories haunted those who had rooted for this particular team, this once storied franchise, this often hapless squad of no-names and a handful of big names who simply couldn’t deliver.

How many times had certain victory somehow, clumsily, often stupidly, eluded this team during the last few seasons? How many times was the “player who will take us to the next level” wheeled off the field on a little John Deere cart only to disappear into the tunnel beneath the stadium never to return to fulfill that promise, his dreams,and our hopes?

Then there were all the betrayals. Money became the only force that inspired loyalty. Free agency sucked away potential headliners and coaches followed their own greed under the auspices of taking on “new challenges” only to demonstrate success while pacing on an opposing sideline. Still, there was the faithful. Despite it all, there are those whose loyalty is pure, loyalty steeped in family and personal history, loyalty that is generational, passed on and down.

Finally, something happened. It was the result of cumulative factors both tangible and intangible, as much individual as collective. On Sunday January 20, 2008, the planets and other celestial bodies aligned, for four frozen hours the elements were rendered irrelevant, Mother Nature herself was knocked out of the way because there was business to be done and, by God, these men were going to do it.

Sports, particularly football, have long been utilized metaphorically to illustrate aspects of life: the values of teamwork and collective purpose, discipline, dedication as well as characteristics of competitors that represent the best in us physically and mentally. Football lends itself to metaphor and analogy; from the comic to the overblown, football is not a microcosm of life. It is a unique game and, at the professional level played by some of the most superior athletes on the planet. It is exciting and emotional and many other things but it is, essentially, a game.

Fans can read into it or take out of it whatever they chose. Cities with professional football franchises either embrace and support or vilify the home team: that is their prerogative. But, don’t think anyone from another place could utter derogatory sentiments about the home team. I can discipline and criticize my kid but don’t you dare say an ill word about her or your ass will be kicked. It’s a family thing; just like the home team comes to be part of the extended family for the faithful, the diehards, certainly not the fair weather types.

The New York Giants are in the Super Bowl. That is a fact. How they arrived there while 30 other teams failed to reach that goal, is a story of a season when a team grew up. Watching that maturity, for those attuned to its presence was rewarding and made up for many disappointments. Perhaps that is the other universal use of football as metaphor; there is always that inherent element, the chance, no matter how remote, for redemption. Individuals redeem themselves on the field as do entire teams. Redemption. Maybe that is too religious sounding a word to use here; perhaps it is hyperbolic and blasphemous. What the hell! The New York Giants are in the Super Bowl.

NOTE: Since Lou is a valued contributor, long time friend, and true blue Giants fan, we allowed him this philosophical post. It may never happen again. Beware - if the Giants win...? Who knows?

Copyright © 2008 TBC All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2008 BronxWest Consulting

Tuesday, January 29, 2008


The Last Roar From An Aging Lion

January 28, Washington DC
Political Commentary

Today, within the shaky confines of his own semi-addled mind, he was Kingmaker. He was The Statesman, The Party Elder, the Passer of the Torch, The Passer of Gas, The Righter of Wrongs and sober. Today was his one brief shinning moment and then some. He may not be sober tonight but, this morning, he was prepared to enter the fray.
It was probably never easy being Ted Kennedy. Not that such a statement implies any degree of sympathy should have ever been bestowed upon him. He was born into great wealth, destined for success by all measures of the day. Unfortunately, his ranking among his siblings, chronology, hamstrung him in some way known only to him or, may be not. Sure, circumstance seem, even from this distance, to have defined what he would never be, all that he could never be and, perhaps more profoundly, all that he never was.

Today may very well have been the curtain call for the last of a political generation, a dynasty to some more posthumously than in real time actuality. Uncle Ted, the youngest brother, the one whose career has been marred, tarred and scarred by scandals. The one remaining brother who had presidential aspirations but whose last best chance passed him by decades ago.

In his own way he became an icon, an icon to both the Left and Right; on one side lionized, on the other vilified. Edward Moore Kennedy, the senior Senator from Massachusetts, who has huffed and puffed on the senate floor for decades, who has championed causes good, bad, foolhardy and idiotic, stood before a cheering crowd who may have been familiar with his name but nothing much else.

Chappaquiddick quickly canceled out the image of the young Edward escorting Jackie Kennedy behind her assassinated husband’s caisson. Yes, Ted ran and is most likely guilty of manslaughter at the least. He ran while a young woman suffered, trapped in a sunken car that Ted had driven off an old wooden bridge. He ran to protect his ass, his family, all their asses and his own drunkenness, cowardice and failures as a man. But, he survived, was voted to a senate seat and he and his ever increasing ass have occupied it ever since. Scandal was
never quite too far behind Ted. He was involv ed in notorious incidents, sometimes associated with obtuse relatives but always related to alcohol. Marriages and divorces detox and re-tox never affected his constituency’s love for him. No matter how bloated this blithering drunk became he was always revered by the party faithful for reasons that are certainly more a measure of his bloodline than his achievements as a legislator.

But today, today with a face resembling a lump of Play-Doh kneaded by hyperactive children, with ears that could give flight to a 767, the obese, slovenly, cirrhotic warhorse had his moment. His voice thundered with uncharacteristic clarity, his words expressed equally uncharacteristic sober, lucid enunciations. He was on his game.

Perhaps, more than by any other single factor or influence, he was propelled by all his years existing in the shadows of his long deceased brothers, of his own failures and lost dreams and of his sense as “party elder’ who alone could squelch the increasingly vitriolic former President and his arrogant, egotistical, condescending wife. Potential unrealized struck Ted miraculously sober and with the figurative sword of crusading righteousness, he sought to slay the two headed beast determined to recapture the White House by blood if necessary.

Ted hadn’t demonstrated that level of outrage and fire since he was flagged from the Blarney Stone in Boston. He hadn’t been so vocally angry since he dropped a case of Jameson’s stumbling across the compound at Hyannis. Such lividity had not been in evidence since the last drunken panty raid his nephews excluded him from. no. This was serious business. There is some odd sort of cosmic justice to this whole affair as mysterious as is the fact that Ted still retains the liver he was born with.

A fluke of nature, where certain aspects of universal laws were momentarily suspended, the planets aligned, matter and antimatter, yin and yang, Simon and Garfunkel all returned to a geosynchronous orbit and from that oh so fleeting instant a unified theory was glimpsed. From amid the formerly tangled, now arrow straight strings, emerged Ted, the Chosen One who would thrust the silver stake of justice (vengeance) into the wretched heart of the Billary monster and forevermore exorcise the demons no human power could have thwarted.

Copyright © 2008 TBC All Rights Reserved



(Jan.28, Washington, DC) In a political maneuver that may not have much significant among actual voters in the general election, the endorsement of Barak Obama by Ted Kennedy was, nonetheless, a potent campaign moment. In the hotly contested Democratic primary where NY Senator, former First lady, Hillary Clinton has been engaged in an increasingly bitter struggle with her nearest competitor, Illinois Senator Barak Obama. In the last few weeks alone, this particular match up has devolved into a nasty, venomous political gutter fight where everything from race, gender, honesty and integrity has been thrown into the roiling mix. The candidates themselves have become more aggressive on the trail and during debates however, the surrogates of both Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Obama have been the most prolific mudslingers with many of their tosses clearly below the belt.

Hillary Clinton was soundly beaten last weekend in the South Carolina primary by Mr. Obama. The voting last Saturday capped a week that began with memorial ceremonies honoring Dr. Martin Luther King and ending with racial comments from both sides, particularly the Clinton’s, that apparently turned the tide for the Illinois Senator. Even in the aftermath of Obama’s substantial electoral victory in the Palmetto State, the former President, Bill Clinton, continued his war of words against Mr. Obama. Notably, Bill Clinton sought to dismiss Obama’s win by drawing to primary victories in South Carolina by Jesse Jackson in 1984 and 1988. Many saw this as an overt attempt by Bill Clinton to get one extra jab at Obama as the campaign now swings towards Super Tuesday when 22 states will conduct primaries or caucuses.

In a sometimes raucous rally held on the campus of American University, Obama appeared with the Democratic ‘Liberal Lion” of the Senate, Ted Kennedy, brother to slain leaders of the 1960’s John F. and Robert F., with JFK’s daughter, Caroline and one of RFK’s son’s, Patrick.

In a highly charged, passionate, sometimes angry speech, Ted Kennedy went through a detailed list of qualifications, traits, achievements and characteristics mirroring, at times verbatim, remarks from the Clinton’s directly assailing Obama’s ability to serve as president. It was an ardent display of political theatre not often seen in its most sincere form. The pictures alone were worth more to the Obama camp than the actual endorsement.

Insiders have reported that Ted Kennedy, perhaps the most famous “Liberal Democrat” and the former President had exchanged harsh words over some of Bill Clinton’s remarks and tactics while he serves as his wife’s chief surrogate. Mr. Clinton has been largely held responsible for injecting the level of invective, venom and racially charged rhetoric into what was already shaping up to be a major intramural confrontation.

Perhaps no one will ever know the origin or depth of the apparent divide between the Kennedy’s and the Clinton’s but, based on Ted’s emotional endorsement speech yesterday, one can speculate that divide to be vast.

The overall benefit of this endorsement of Barak Obama remains to be seen however, for the immediate moment, it has dramatically altered the political landscape.

Copyright © 2008 TBC All Rights Reserved

NOTE: See below for additional coverage from TBC