The McCain campaign’s recent angry tone and sharply personal attacks on Senator Barack Obama appear to have backfired and tarnished Senator John McCain more than their intended target, the latest New York Times/CBS News poll has found.

Original DVD cover.

After several weeks in which the McCain campaign unleashed a series of strong political attacks on Mr. Obama, trying to tie him to a former 1960s radical, among other things, the poll found that more voters see Mr. McCain as waging a negative campaign than Mr. Obama. Six in 10 voters surveyed said that Mr. McCain had spent more time attacking Mr. Obama than explaining what he would do as president; by about the same number, voters said Mr. Obama was spending more of his time explaining than attacking.

Over all, the poll found that if the election were held today, 53 percent of those determined to be probable voters said they would vote for Mr. Obama and 39 percent said they would vote for Mr. McCain.

...snip...

Voters who said their opinions of Mr. Obama had changed recently were twice as likely to say they had grown more favorable as to say they had worsened. And voters who said that their views of Mr. McCain had changed were three times more likely to say that they had worsened than to say they had improved.

The top reasons cited by those who said they thought less of Mr. McCain were his recent attacks and his choice of Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska as his running mate.

...snip...

With the election unfolding against the backdrop of an extraordinary economic crisis, a lack of confidence in government, and two wars, the survey described a very inhospitable environment for any Republican to run for office. More than 8 in 10 Americans do not trust the government to do what is right, the highest ever recorded in a Times/CBS News poll. And Mr. McCain is trying to keep the White House in Republican hands at a time when President Bush’s job approval rating is at 24 percent, hovering near its historic low.

...snip...

After several weeks in which the McCain campaign sought to tie Mr. Obama to William Ayers, a founder of the Weather Underground terrorism group, 64 percent of voters said that they had either read or heard something about the subject. But a majority said they were not bothered by Mr. Obama’s background or past associations. Several people said in follow-up interviews that they felt that Mr. McCain’s attacks on Mr. Obama were too rooted in the past, or too unconnected to the nation’s major problems.

...snip...

Mr. McCain was viewed unfavorably by 41 percent of voters, and favorably by 36 percent. Ms. Palin’s favorability rating is now 32 percent, down 8 points from last month, and her unfavorable rating climbed nine percentage points to 41 percent. Mr. Obama’s favorability rating, by contrast, is now at 50 percent, the highest recorded for him thus far by The Times and CBS News.

Am I laughing my ass off right now? Soi-tanly! But I bet Captain Underpants's hero wouldn't be!

            Allensford knocked again on Joe's door when the first knock went unanswered.  Then he knocked yet again.

            After several more tries, and a near bite on the shin from Joe's gray, flea-bitten mongrel hound, he walked around to the backyard and peeked through the kitchen window.  Through the dirt-smeared pane of glass, he saw Thankless Joe's large, bald head lying on the kitchen table, his hands splayed out in front of him, one large, hairy thumb twitching aimlessly.

            Clearly, Thankless had spent a long night rocking some rough-hewn, seedy downtown juke joint and was exhausted.  It was only two in the afternoon and Thankless was nothing if not a night owl. 

Allensford tried the kitchen door and finding it unlocked, he went in and grabbed a soiled dishtowel from the counter.  Soaking it in cold water, he slapped it over Joe's sweating head, taking care to first remove the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels from the table so Joe wouldn't knock it over.

            Thankless Joe shuddered into motion, his body jittering.  The large expanse of flesh that made up his stomach and arm fat jiggled and fluctuated.  He threw the wet towel off his head with a surprisingly vigorous motion and shuffled back in his rickety chair, the kitchen floor creaking.  Joe looked around wildly, his small black eyes blinking in the glaring afternoon kitchen light.

            "What the fuck?   Who the fuck. . . ?" Joe cried.  His voice was hoarse and harsh, ragged from a long night of screaming.

            Allensford was used to Joe taking time to gain a full awareness of his surroundings.  There were days when he visited and Joe was not completely coherent until shortly before Allensford took off at sunset for his night job at the Four Lips Motel.  "It's Allensford, Joe.   Had a long night?"

            "Jesus Christ, you freaking fuck.  What are you doing in my house?"

            Allensford laughed an indulgent laugh.   Joe was nothing if not authentic, a truly gritty, down-home, plain-spoken, roots-music man like they didn't make anymore.  "Remember how you told me that if I ever needed some advice, no matter when, no matter what the problem, I should come by?"

            "I say a lot of stupid shit."  Joe looked around with narrowed eyes.  "Where's my whiskey?"

            "Well, I'm having woman trouble."  Allensford gave a self-conscious rueful laugh.   "And if there's one man I know who knows a lot about a lotta women, it's you, Joe."

            "I gotta take a piss." Thankless Joe stood up and stumbled toward the bathroom.  He tripped over an empty bottle of schnapps and banged his head on the doorframe.  "Goddamn!"

 As the sounds of Joe using the bathroom filled the kitchen, Allensford outlined his romantic situation. 

            "See, I've been dating this woman, Alicia.  You'd love her, Joe.  She's smart, wears these totally cool glasses, makes an awesome patty melt.  Just a real classy, all-around authentic girl.  Totally authentic.  From Idaho.  The problem is, I can't stand her taste in music."

            Allensford started to take a seat at the kitchen table, then noticed the unidentifiable green stains on the chair and thought better of it.

            "You know me, Joe.  I'm a roots music man.  It's gotta be real, or I won't put it on my stereo.  But this Alicia, she listens to nothing but electronica!"

            Joe emerged from the bathroom and took off his black, tattered T-shirt.  "Where's the refrigerator?"

            "Right here, Joe.  By the oven."

            "Goddamn.  Over there.  Hand me a beer."

            Allensford grabbed a can of beer and handed it to Thankless.  He took a good look at Joe's face.  As expressionless as it was, as unfocused as his eyes were, as soggy and shapeless as his lips looked, Allensford knew that in that unique head little shards of lyrical greatness were stewing.  Bits and pieces of undeniably powerful, primitive roots-music melody and shards of poetic, hard-luck phrasing were cooking that would soon bubble up from Joe's mouth, spew out and coagulate like chili in a bowl into a new Thankless Joe song.

            Thankless took a gulp of beer and stared at Allensford.  "Who let you in?"

            Allensford shook his head in amazement.  "When you're brewing up a new song, nothing distracts you!  Amazing.  But seriously, Thankless, what should I do about this girl?  This electronica chick."

            "You ever see my chuggy dance?" asked Thankless, his mouth gaping.

            "Only a thousand times."  Allensford grinned at the memories.

            Thankless did it again.  He stepped forward, shook his belly, stepped back, shook his belly again, and then repeated the whole process, doing two steps forward and back, then three steps, then four.  During the whole dance, he kept up a blubbering beat with his lips and slapped his hands on his bare belly.

            Allensford played along, chanting 'chuggy, chuggy, chuggy', just like the grizzled fans always did at Thankless Joe's gigs.

            Thankless shook and jiggled for a good three minutes, then took another gulp of beer.

            "Is that your answer, Thankless?"

            Joe narrowed his eyes.  "You been at my shows.  You know what it's all about."

            "I do.  I do know what it's all about.  It's all about the roots music, that's what it's all about."  Allensford shook his head.  How could he have been so shallow?  "I see what you're telling me.  In your poetic, musical way, you're telling me it'll never work out with me and Alicia.  How could I ever trust a girl who listens to electronica?"

            For an answer, Joe slapped his belly again and fixed Allensford with a bleary look. 

            "It's like you say in that song, Joe.  'She left me like the squaw left the papoose.  She left me and she went on the loose'."

            Joe bit his lip.  "Jesus, some of 'em are just that tawdry."  He walked into the living room, slumped onto the dusty brown sofa, tossed some dirty undies on the floor and grabbed the TV remote.

            "I'm glad I came by.  Joe, thanks so much for listening.  Really, thanks."

            "Don't need to thank me.  That's why they call me Thankless Joe."

            "So right," said Allensford.  A truer statement, he thought, had never been made. 
           "Why don't this remote work?"

We now are in full swing. The 200th post is only... well, almost 200 away but we'll get there somehow. I'd appreciate it if we could do it together. I appreciate your company. Remember, linking to this blog helps to get it into Google. Also, if you are a Facebook or Myspace member (or half a dozen other such social net spots, mentioning http://wjfconsulting.com (which will get you here). It will be a great service and will be rewarded by a chain letter in your name sent to ten of my closest friends. (I'm going to the phone book right now to see if I can find ten friends to get the ball started). Thanks for visiting.

Try synchronizing with the tune...I bet it will be in sync!! Tried and tested!! :P

**************************************************************

Bug, an everlasting bug
A bug can bring no fear to me
Won't ever let me find it gone
Cause that would bring no cheer to me
This bay has lost it's flooring
Let's scratch a brand new coding
Now my self
You think that I don't even clean
The source code with which I play...

It's only codes
And codes are all I have
To make my client to pay

Bugs, in never lasting codes
Are dedicated all, to me
And I will give it all my time
I'm here if you should need me
You think that I don't even clean
The source code with which I play...

It's only codes
And codes are all I have
To make my client to pay

Da da da da da da da
Da da da da da da da da
Da da da da da da da da
Da da da da da da da da

This bay has lost it's flooring
Let's scratch a brand new coding
Now my self
You think that I don't even clean
The source code with which I play...

It's only codes
And codes are all I have
To make my client to pay...

Hilarious stab at Hollywood thanks to a strong script and a brilliant cast.

David Duchovny plays Mike, a writer and executive producer trying to get his baby made into a series. During the film we follow him through the network process, from the audition stages through production into post-production and its aftermath. All the while his original vision gets changed, flipped around and basically hacked into tiny pieces and rearranged by ice-queen Lenny, played by Sigourney Weaver in one of her funniest performances. She has no taste, no conscience and let's her 14-year-old daughter make the important network decisions for her. Rounding out the "threesome" of stars is Ioan Gruffudd as Brit-import Richard. He never really stands a chance against the Duchovny-Weaver dynamic, but is doing the best he can with what he's given.

Memorable supporting actors are Judy Greer, Fran Kranz, Lindsey Sloane and Justine Bateman. Especially Fran Kranz as Zach Harper is brilliant playing the young, horrible "over"-actor and wannabe star.

Overall I really enjoyed this film. Easily relatable and accessible for the mainstream audience this sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek comedy is a must see!

It is very to believe that we've come this far. 102 postings. I didn't think I could do more than 101 of them! Now that is something to celebrate! But I digress. This is just a reminder that you can, if you want, make a comment by clicking the "No Comment" or "Comments" link below. I won't tell anyone if you do make a comment. Also, linking to this blog from your blog would help spread the word. Calling up your local Radio and TV stations to tell them about this blog would be a tremendous help. Do that, or not do that, we're still friends and I thank you for visiting.

This and more very funny Demotivators availabe at Despair, Inc. Demotivators: Increasing success by lowering expectations.

It’s time for John McCain to fire his campaign.

Original DVD cover.

He has nothing to lose. His campaign is totally overmatched by Obama’s. The Obama team is well organized, flush with resources, and the candidate and the campaign are in sync. The McCain campaign, once merely problematic, is now close to being out-and-out dysfunctional. Its combination of strategic incoherence and operational incompetence has become toxic. If the race continues over the next three weeks to be a conventional one, McCain is doomed.

He may be anyway. Bush is unpopular. The media is hostile. The financial meltdown has made things tougher. Maybe the situation is hopeless — and if it is, then nothing McCain or his campaign does matters.

...snip...

The 2008 campaign is now about something very big — both our future prosperity and our national security. Yet the McCain campaign has become smaller.

From Think Progress:

Right-wing pundit Bill Kristol was attacked today by the McCain campaign after declaring that John McCain is waging a “pathetic campaign” and should “fire” his staff. Spokesperson Nancy Pfotenhauer said Kristol had “bought into the Obama campaign’s party line,” while Tucker Bounds said, “I know Bill Kristol is an intelligent guy, I just don’t think what he had to say was very intelligent.” This afternoon on Fox News, Kristol fired back:

Is John McCain the best messenger for his campaign? Why isn’t he on this show? Why do we have Tucker Bounds and a bunch of nice young kids who are spokesmen out there spinning implausibly on behalf of the McCain campaign? McCain is better than his campaign.

You can watch the video of Kristol at the link. I'll be over in the corner chuckling. :lol:

Well, this is post 101. There will be more to come if "the car don't careen, the 'puter don't stop 'putin, and the mind don't go more feeble." Yes, I know it's in quotes but, believe it or not, I just made up all that last part. You know, there are times that I just can't control myself. This was one of them. Did you notice? And no, I did not forget to say thanks. Here it comes... thanks for visiting this site. I do appreciate it.

I can't believe it's not Marxism! HAHA! Photo credit thePeoplesCube.com

Just in case you missed the exchange:

Plumber: "You're new tax plan is going to tax me more, isn't it?"

Barack Obama: "It's not that I want to punish your success, I just want to make sure that everybody who is behind you, that they've got a chance at success too. I think when you spread the wealth around it's good for everybody."

1. Who gives a crap what you want - it's what you actually do. In this case: punishing success.
2. Who is "behind you"? What if I worked my butt off to provide good opportunities for my family, kids, or grandkids, and perhaps whoever else I choose. I guess that's simply not good enough. I need the all-knowing government to come and make me pay for whomever they feel are "behind me" and who likely neither work, nor pay income tax.
3. In American, peoples inalienable rights and freedoms are (supposed to be) protected by the government from birth. What people choose to do with those rights and freedoms is up to them. They make themselves a success - the government does not (nor could it).
4. Spreading the wealth sounds good - except for the folks from whom the wealth is stolen to give to others.

"When you spread the wealth around, Senator - it depends on who's spreading the wealth around. If the wealth is being spread around by individuals making voluntary decisions, whether they be consumers, or producers, or both - you're spreading the wealth around in a humane and free way. When the Government, like and all powerful mob compels you to give 40, 50, 60 percent of your hard earned income to the mob - to redistribute, based on political and ideological decisions, (which are not always decisions over need, by the way) - That is Tyranny."

-Mark Levin

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against disagreements about everything. But intelligent discourse, intelligent disagreements, not this sophomoric version of “telling people off,” shit, use humor, use sarcasm, spend more than five minutes reviewing what you are saying, speak with some background understanding of both sides of the argument, then present yours.  Don’t blast us (fucking especially in ALL CAPS) with a stupid point of view you discovered surfing online or because you feel weak and are too much of a pussy to put your real email address up. Put your phone number up, your mailing address, your name, your contact information, discuss this shit amongst yourselves if it’s so damn transformational of worldviews and politics. But, do you think that this asinine “debate” is worth your time? Do you think people read this shit and say, “ahhhh, that’s really true, I think I will denounce socialism/democracy/communism/religion” based on your prepubescent posts? You add pictures, as if that’s supposed to help us see your point of view? Why don’t you post to a blog that focuses on that, join a group, get involved with something aside from shitty writing.  This is clearly not your forte. It’s a gut wrenching waste of time to click on a post that might seem like it has something unique to say, and instead starts throwing blame at people for some ideological set of beliefs.  One more time, who gives a fucking shit about your political beliefs? I know I don’t. I don’t even care about politics/religion/race. I make fun of them as a whole, I write articles that are dedicated to parodying beliefs and people who espouse beliefs such as this, but it’s only because I find it ridiculous and amusing to see how much people try to convince me of their perspective when, not only do they use faulty logic, they are usually wrong. Why argue with someone who doesn’t give a shit?

If you want to make an ass out of yourself, or post something intelligent back to me just come here: http://antipoets.wordpress.com or better yet email me at antipoets@gmail.com . Flame me all you want. Read for yourself how intelligent discussion can be started and finished with biting sarcasm, wit, intelligence and genius.

This post is dedicated to all the flaming assholes who don’t understand the idea behind Rants and Raves in CL.

theantipoet

For the rest of you, good luck and enjoy.

*The original post can be seen at http://berlin.en.craigslist.org/rnr/879106634.html 

He stared out at the deeply pockmarked surface of the unsightly moon over his cup of breakfast powder.

"Think about future generations."  Second Officer Haifa Al-Rashid stored the packaging of her futuristic space meal for recycling.  As the first one-armed female Arab-American astronaut on the Putrid Moon, she was full of inspiring, optimistic ideas on the future of space exploration.  "One day, our children's descendants will look back on us as moon pioneers."

"I'm not having any children with you," protested O'Flaherty.

"I was using the royal 'our'," explained Al-Rashid.

Just then, Ensign Bradley burst into the dining pod.

"Commander O'Flaherty, we've detected suspicious movement in the Crimble Zone!"

"You see what I mean!"  O'Flaherty seethed.  "Not a day goes by without some annoyance cropping up on the Putrid Moon."

Second Officer Al-Rashid faced O'Flaherty with determination.  "You need to show grit, Commander!  The Crimbles could completely destroy our insulated, technologically advanced yet structurally fragile moon base with one well-organized attack!"

"Give me one reason I should care!" cried O'Flaherty.  "This moon is Putrid!  Why are we even here?  Have you taken a look around?  The Great Rundible Cleft is filled with half-solid gray slime that gives off the stench of burnt rubber.  The Wallinger Geyser shoots out burning plumes of orange-brown muck every hour that reeks of rotten potato. Last week, I fell into a gaping pit filled with decaying Crimble carcasses and I still haven't been able to remove the stains from my uniform!"  O'Flaherty pointed to the seat of his silver moon-colonist radiation-deflecting pants.  "We can't even invite any galactic dignitaries to visit our colony because the whole place is too goddamn smelly.  Face it people, this moon is putrid!"

Al-Rashid threw a saltshaker to the floor in fury.  "I can't listen to this!  As the first one-armed female Arab-American astronaut on the Putrid Moon, I must set an example for all the space daughters who'll follow my example.  This mission is not about nasal aesthetics!  This mission is about claiming a world for human habitation that on the surface is completely hostile and inappropriate for settlement and putting up with endless sacrifices, hardships and unpleasant odors to make that possible!"

Ensign Bradley pointed out the impressive picture window to a spot beyond the bubbling pits of devil-lava that lay around the compound.  "A Crimble scout!"

Bradley was undeniably correct.  In the distance, visible against an olive-ochre horizon spotted with tattered clouds, came the shambling, unappetizing shape of a three legged, large-eyed Crimble.  The Crimbles were yet another hazard of life on the Putrid Moon.  Using their sharp and pointed tusks and glinting titanium claws, a rampaging Crimble could do untold damage to the moon colony habitation with its fragile pink light funnels and architecturally renowned billowing canvas sails, reminiscent of the masts of a 19^th century whaling ship.

"We're doomed!" cried O'Flaherty.   "Doomed!  This ill-begotten mission is on a headlong collision course with a violent, smelly destruction.  All of us are going down to our putrescent unmarked graves on this godforsaken moon!"

"Perhaps the Crimble will stumble into one of the devil-lava pits," said the inexperienced and recklessly hopeful Bradley.  He was a recent graduate of Space University and his grade point average had not been high enough to secure him a post on one of the less disgusting moon bases.

"Nonsense," claimed Al-Rashid.  "We need simply to reach out to these misunderstood creatures.  I will go out and play the Crimble a tune of peace on my Earth-oud.  We must bridge the differences between our species if we ever hope to live in peace with the creatures of the Putrid Moon."

O'Flaherty watched in seething frustration as Al-Rashid and Bradley set forth with the fragile oud to make peace with the Crimble.  As he could have predicted, Al-Rashid was quickly speared through the stomach by the Crimble's tusk and Bradley fell headlong into a devil-lava pit.  O'Flaherty beat on the intercom in frustration as the Crimble lumbered ever closer to the compound.

I take up the cause with more thingies so, check back in from time to time, assuming you actually want to check back in and the hypnotic suggestion which I so cleverly implanted doesn't really work. I do want to take the time to thank you for taking the time to visit here.

Hughes Network Systems of Germantown has finally changed its name to Hughes Network Systems the Global Leader in Broadband Satellite Networks and Services.

Joe Prada, President and CEO, commented, "We have always stated in press releases that we were the powerhouse in satellites. And the media didn't always want to print that. Now they have to print it. We get our way, finally."

Hughes' new name is a bit cumbersome. But many company names, like Xerox Company, were weird at first.

Prada ponders, "The way we figure it, McDonalds doesn't just call themselves that. They say McDonalds HAMBURGERS."

Many burger lovers leave off the obvious beef part, as they do with Burger King and Wendy's.

"We just want some respect. Just because we're in Germantown, convenient to the Hampton Inn, doesn't mean we can't be the global leader in broadband satellite networks. As long as people think of us when they hear the word "satellite" we'll be happy. Have you had lunch? We're all going over to Taco Bell Mexican Restaurant and Drive-Thru."