Amici:
Barney Frank … Knucksline isn’t a fan of Barney Frank but that has more to do with his chairmanship of the “oversight committee” than anything else (although it probably explains why he “didn’t know” there were hookers in his basement; oversight not being his forte). Still, what he said yesterday in response to a wingnut screaming against public option health care reform was a beautiful thing:
Here are the highlights:
"When you ask me that question, I'm going to revert to my ethnic heritage and ask you a question: On what planet do you spend most of your time?" Frank asked.
"Trying to have a conversation with you would be like trying to argue with a dining room table," Frank said to the woman. "I have no interest in doing it."
Bravo, Barney. Now, remove yourself from anything related to “OVERSIGHT” and let people who can get something done handle it.
The DOC wrote a play … (forgive him, amici, he’s spending WAY TOO MUCH time in the sun lately {and he thanks both Ronald Regan & George Bush for DEREGULATING EVERYTHING and thus promoting the OUTSOURCING of our jobs so we can spend more time in the sun} … the sun is getting to him; sometimes he just knows not what he does) …
From the DOC:
Sorry to hear about the head cold, Chaz.
I wrote a play to cheer you up.
Chaz: Hi Doctor, I have a head cold.
Doctor: Yes, I can see from the swelling.
Chaz: I don't have any swelling, That's my normal size head.
Doctor: But it's the size of a pumpkin!
Chaz: Yeah, that's what the Doc says.
Doctor: You have another doctor?
Chaz: No, he is my friend.
Doctor: And he thinks he is a doctor?
Chaz: No, he's delusional, but never a doctor. Sometimes he thinks he is the capo of the 7 dwarves, sometimes he thinks he is Wyatt Earp's best friend.
Doctor: Well, delusional or not, he's right about that pumpkin-head thing.
Chaz: Great, thank you. Can I just get some medication?
Doctor: We are doing some early testing of Obamacare, so I am afraid treatment is out of the question.
Chaz: And why would that be?
Doctor: For one, you're 50 years old. How many more years do you think you have left?
Chaz: If I got rid of this head cold, I might last another year or two.
Doctor: Unlikely, then there is the fact that you weigh 700 pounds.
Chaz: Hey, look, I just lost twenty pounds.
Doctor: I took that into consideration. Last week you must have been 720 pounds. Look at it from Obama's point of view. If I give that same medication to some 17 year old crack addict they will live another 70 years. If I give it to you what do we get? A month... 2 months?
Chaz: Look, I'm beginning to get really pissed.
Doctor: That's another potential problem. Then there is that whole pumpkin-head thing. Maybe it's time for you to take a long rest and reap your greater rewards.
Chaz: Are you talking about the dirt nap... Euthanasia ?
Doctor: Well in the new health plan, it's called Perpetual Tax Amnesty, but you have the gist of it.
Feel better, Bro
Doc
The spurs in my knee … we got to see the little fuckers last night on an X-ray and they explain the pain alright. It’s the start of arthritis (as the Principessa questioned the orthopedist until the cows came home—I was about to fall asleep on the nice comfy examining table). It has little to do with my weight and much to do with genetics (thanks, Mom). Squatting probably facilitated the issue and there will be no more of that. He wrote a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and he wants me to go to therapy.
“The f—ks my head got to do with my knee?” I said.
He turned to the boss and said, “I feel for you.”
She said, “You don’t know the half of it.”
He said, “Explain it to him in the car. His eyes are too close together and it gives me a headache to look at him.”
Later the boss explained I would have to go to some medical office 3x’s a week to treat different muscles that “might” alleviate the stress on my kneecap (it’s the bone under it that has the spurs rubbing against the femur).
“Might?” I said.
I might go. [sarcasm intended]
Allman Brothers tonight … those over expensive tickets get put to use tonight at the Garden State PNC (or whatever its called). I’m wearing my tie-dyed shorts (the boss used too much bleach) and my Buffalo Bills T-shirt. The boss is bringing the lighters (I refuse to hold up a cell phone) … and if they do one of those dopey “holds your hands up in the air and everybody sway back and forth” routines, I’ll pick pockets like a dervish.
—Knucks
Barney Frank … Knucksline isn’t a fan of Barney Frank but that has more to do with his chairmanship of the “oversight committee” than anything else (although it probably explains why he “didn’t know” there were hookers in his basement; oversight not being his forte). Still, what he said yesterday in response to a wingnut screaming against public option health care reform was a beautiful thing:
Here are the highlights:
"When you ask me that question, I'm going to revert to my ethnic heritage and ask you a question: On what planet do you spend most of your time?" Frank asked.
"Trying to have a conversation with you would be like trying to argue with a dining room table," Frank said to the woman. "I have no interest in doing it."
Bravo, Barney. Now, remove yourself from anything related to “OVERSIGHT” and let people who can get something done handle it.
The DOC wrote a play … (forgive him, amici, he’s spending WAY TOO MUCH time in the sun lately {and he thanks both Ronald Regan & George Bush for DEREGULATING EVERYTHING and thus promoting the OUTSOURCING of our jobs so we can spend more time in the sun} … the sun is getting to him; sometimes he just knows not what he does) …
From the DOC:
Sorry to hear about the head cold, Chaz.
I wrote a play to cheer you up.
Chaz: Hi Doctor, I have a head cold.
Doctor: Yes, I can see from the swelling.
Chaz: I don't have any swelling, That's my normal size head.
Doctor: But it's the size of a pumpkin!
Chaz: Yeah, that's what the Doc says.
Doctor: You have another doctor?
Chaz: No, he is my friend.
Doctor: And he thinks he is a doctor?
Chaz: No, he's delusional, but never a doctor. Sometimes he thinks he is the capo of the 7 dwarves, sometimes he thinks he is Wyatt Earp's best friend.
Doctor: Well, delusional or not, he's right about that pumpkin-head thing.
Chaz: Great, thank you. Can I just get some medication?
Doctor: We are doing some early testing of Obamacare, so I am afraid treatment is out of the question.
Chaz: And why would that be?
Doctor: For one, you're 50 years old. How many more years do you think you have left?
Chaz: If I got rid of this head cold, I might last another year or two.
Doctor: Unlikely, then there is the fact that you weigh 700 pounds.
Chaz: Hey, look, I just lost twenty pounds.
Doctor: I took that into consideration. Last week you must have been 720 pounds. Look at it from Obama's point of view. If I give that same medication to some 17 year old crack addict they will live another 70 years. If I give it to you what do we get? A month... 2 months?
Chaz: Look, I'm beginning to get really pissed.
Doctor: That's another potential problem. Then there is that whole pumpkin-head thing. Maybe it's time for you to take a long rest and reap your greater rewards.
Chaz: Are you talking about the dirt nap... Euthanasia ?
Doctor: Well in the new health plan, it's called Perpetual Tax Amnesty, but you have the gist of it.
Feel better, Bro
Doc
The spurs in my knee … we got to see the little fuckers last night on an X-ray and they explain the pain alright. It’s the start of arthritis (as the Principessa questioned the orthopedist until the cows came home—I was about to fall asleep on the nice comfy examining table). It has little to do with my weight and much to do with genetics (thanks, Mom). Squatting probably facilitated the issue and there will be no more of that. He wrote a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and he wants me to go to therapy.
“The f—ks my head got to do with my knee?” I said.
He turned to the boss and said, “I feel for you.”
She said, “You don’t know the half of it.”
He said, “Explain it to him in the car. His eyes are too close together and it gives me a headache to look at him.”
Later the boss explained I would have to go to some medical office 3x’s a week to treat different muscles that “might” alleviate the stress on my kneecap (it’s the bone under it that has the spurs rubbing against the femur).
“Might?” I said.
I might go. [sarcasm intended]
Allman Brothers tonight … those over expensive tickets get put to use tonight at the Garden State PNC (or whatever its called). I’m wearing my tie-dyed shorts (the boss used too much bleach) and my Buffalo Bills T-shirt. The boss is bringing the lighters (I refuse to hold up a cell phone) … and if they do one of those dopey “holds your hands up in the air and everybody sway back and forth” routines, I’ll pick pockets like a dervish.
—Knucks
