my jaundiced eye

the henpecked terrorist

the henpecked terrorist.jpg

Achmed, get your sorry muslim ass out here! WTF??? Is this the sum total of pipe bombs you’ve made this week???? Seriously, what are you doing out here, playing fantasy fatwa? You tubing your Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi imitation? Binge turban shopping on Alibaba? Again. Are you a terrorist or a terrier because I really can’t tell the difference.

And you call this a pipe bomb? Give me a break. Didn’t I tell you to follow the instructions in Inspire Magazine to the letter? Well? I’m waiting…. The answer is no you did not. As usual you couldn’t stay on task and you cut corners you lazy ass American. I do not care if your imam says you are ADHD, you have a job to do and you had better get your head in the game. I did not fly all the way from Islamabad for 20 hours in the middle seat of the last row on that lousy Air Arabia, which by the way has a worse safety record than Malaysia Air, to come to allah forsaken San Bernadino to babysit a wanna be.

I had my pick of the litter! Muslim Mingling is chock full of pathetic socially awkward guys who can’t get a girl and are ripe for recruiting to the cause. And I chose you Achmed. Abdul told me you’d be trouble, but I stood up for you, I said, no he has real potential. And this is what I get? I could have assembled this heap of crap in my burqa with my eyes shut.

Now get back to work, Mecca’s Real Housewives is on and I am dying to find out if Fairuzah and Mahjabeen get into another cat fight.

terror r us

Okay so MJE is now officially totally and royally pissed off at the goddam terrorists. What is it with these people, why can’t they sit in their basements watching pornography and masturbating like normal guys. Really. Think about the time and effort it takes to schlep out to a gun show in some godforsaken deserted strip mall to buy a couple of assault rifles, then schlep to Walmart to buy 50 round clips of hollow point bullets, then schlep to toys R us to get a remote control toy car for your IED and then on to the plumbing supply joint for the pipes for your bomb. That’s a whole fricking day of running around! Of course with the exception of the guns, you can probably order it all online and if you’re an Amazon Prime member have it on your doorstep in 48 hours, free shipping included.

Then there’s the whole execution thing. You gotta spend hours figuring out how to put pipe bombs together without blowing yourself up (imagine the stress!), then slap on hotter than hell (and frankly unflattering) bullet proof vests and balaclava helmets, load all those heavy-as-lead guns, bombs, detonators and ammo into the back of the minivan. And boy you better be able to pack like a pro to get all that stuff in there!

Then you gotta go kill a lot of innocent people that you probably don’t even know. And the kicker is you have to pretty much accept that it’s also going to be your last day on earth and be prepared to kiss your ass goodbye. Which is a really good thing or a really bad thing, depending on your perspective. Well MJE says good luck with getting your hands on those forty virgins buddy.

In the old days MJE’s fear was running into someone who was self-actualized and being bored to death at a cocktail party not someone who is self-radicalized and being blown to smithereens while enjoying a boozy lunch. Although, truth be told, if my last breath has the whiff of gin on it I’m okay with that.

Last week everyone had the holy jitters about going to Paris. But terror is a lot closer than that.

BYOT

Stephen Colbert had a rant the other night about the GOPers going nucking futs in their insane attempts to out Islamophobe one another. Their first volley was that we don’t have enough vetting to prevent Syrian terrorists from getting into the country despite the two year long vetting program that’s already in place. Therefore we absolutely do not want to grant asylum to any Syrians, who are themselves being terrorized, no way no how. Not even small children who are orphans, because they are almost certainly also terrorists.

Well Stephen, in this case I have to regrettably admit that MJE is onboard with the GOPer’s “children can be terrorists too” argument. It just so happens that we have a home grown three year old terrorist in our very family. None other than “she who must be obeyed”, Decibelle. You think negotiating with ISIS is impossible, fuggetaboutit. I would personally bet Donald Trump’s hair product allotment on our pint sized stick of dynamite being able to bring ISIS to its knees, beg for mercy and become Episcopalians. And fast. God bless John Kerry, but you gotta fight fire with fire and Decibelle is a fricking inferno.

Case in point, son Knot comes home from work and walks into the den to kiss his little yum yum and to lovingly inquire as to how her day went. Decibelle is, come d’habitude, completely absorbed in some piece of Disney tripe that she has seen a thousand times. Instead of jumping up and running to her dear father and giving him a hug and a kiss she, without turning her head or saying a word, simply points her finger toward the door in dismissal. If that doesn’t send a strong enough message she utters one word. Out.

To this MJE says. Oh no you don’t! Clamp down on the kid! To which Knot says they do but she just clamps down harder. And she has the endurance of a drugged up Lance Armstrong. In the end Knot says he usually just throws in the towel and ends up apologizing to her. MJE ain’t clairvoyant but this is not going to be pretty. Wait until she’s twelve. Knot and his wife will probably cash in all their airline miles, decamp for the middle east, join ISIS and feel like they’re at Club Med.

si triste

MJE had a post ready to publish earlier this week on her utter confusion regarding the seemingly countless number of factions fighting and killing each other in the middle east. It was supposed to be a caricature of the whole state of affairs, but given what happened in Paris this week end it doesn’t seem so funny now.

However, the final takeaway from the piece still stands:

‘It all boils down to “my god’s better than your god. “And that’s a pissing match that’s been going on since man dreamed him up in the first place.’

is it now yet

I was shopping online for a new wall clock for our kitchen. It’s been 3:27 pm for the last two weeks and even though I know that before I even look at the damned thing I am still caught off guard every time. It’s like when I’ve used the last staple in my stapler, and get that empty click sound. I know it’s bound to happen sometime but it always irritates me to the point of wanting to crush the thing with a shovel. But back to the subject at hand, so MJE is finger walking the aisles of amazon when I come across this ad at the top of the page:

Pointells Dementia, Alzheimer’s, Memory Loss Clock

It sort of makes it sound like it’s a clock that counts down to when you will be stricken with the above afflictions. Talk about a bummer appliance. But with that provocative come on, who could resist double clicking on it just to clarify? Unless of course you are already suffering from dementia, alzheimer’s or memory problems, which obviously I am not. Am I? Well sort of, but my mental lapses, if any, are most likely the result of being a seasoned sot.

The full description of the aforementioned clock is as follows:

Pointells Extra-Large Digital Calendar Day Clock with Non-Abbreviated Day, Month & Date – Ideal Clock for the Elderly & Those Struggling with Memory Loss

Talk about a dynamite marketing strategy! Who doesn’t have some old fart or brainless wonder you need to shop for? Think how thrilled the recipient of this thoughtful gift will be when they read (in extra large type) for whom this clock was created.

Perfect for your mother-in-law.

the joys of burdenhood

Well it has been a difficult stretch chez MJE. The OB&C and I have been desperately trying to extricate ourselves from our daughter Albatross’s lifelong self-induced financial plight. A pretty bad seed from the get go she has blossomed through the years into an extremely onerous and invasive plant. She has, however produced two wonderful children, which is about as miraculous as the immaculate conception. And of course grand children are the ultimate insurance policy. Lifetime coverage.

Loyal readers are familiar with one of the children, Bandoliera-Saturnalia whom we raised and who has now graduated from college and flown off to New York to break into the art biz. That is not quite as easy as it seemed from the comfort of her apartment above our garage. She did luck into some great digs on Bleecker Street, which she is enjoying immensely. It goes without saying that it’s on our dime. But she at least is somewhat gainfully employed at one of those stores that sell absurdly priced “bohemian” clothing and faux vintage stuff. Sadly, she is partial to both of those and I suspect will never bring home any actual money. But man she and her apartment will be lookin’ good!

But back to Albatross, as I may have mentioned in a previous post, one day shy of B-S’s 17^th birthday, just when we thought our necks might be unburdened, the aforementioned up and produced another child, Krylon. A sweet and bright boy, the OB&C was immediately smitten. And god knows (which theoretically he should and for which he earns a major black mark in my book) it’s not his fault he is saddled with Albatross as a mother. As dark and inventive as MJE’s imagination is even I cannot conjure up what sort of wildly dysfunctional world he might inhabit.

The OB&C and I are footing the bill for a private school for Krylon (with roughly the same tuition as Princeton) so he might have a fleeting glimpse of what “normal” people are like. However, normal in northern CA would never pass muster in most other places. Case in point, the school refuses to celebrate Columbus Day, choosing instead to celebrate Indigenous People day. Well sunbeams, have you ever seen sears or home depot offer blockbuster deals during their indigenous people day sales?

And so the noose remains tightly knotted until MJE and the OB&C firmly resolve to cut it and let Krylon’s chips fall where they may. When we do, if given the option we’d like to have it done by guillotine if possible.

toddler shoots grandma

Dateline: Rock Hill, SC

MJE came upon this bit of news the other day and it struck her (although certainly not as hard as the aforementioned grandma) as pretty disturbing. Sweet ole granny’s lugging around her grandson to walmart and the like while his parents are god knows where, and what does she get for that good deed? The kid reaches down and plucks a fully loaded .357 magnum from behind granny’s seat and does what any normal toddler would do, pulls the trigger and shoots her. What the hell? The first lesson in gun safety is if you are going to shoot someone in a car, do not shoot the driver. That’s so basic I don’t think I should even need to bring it up, but obviously the kid had not read the manual (maybe the NRA ought to publish an easy reader on gun safety in vehicles). But to be fair, she was pretty much the only available target unless he wanted to pick off some hapless passers-by in the next lane.

You will be comforted by the fact that the Rock Hill police are all over this incident:

“The gun should have never been that accessible,” Rock Hill police captain Mark Bollinger said, adding, “It is possible, for having the gun in the wrong location and easily accessible to a child, there could even be some child safety laws in violation. Our detectives will be working with the solicitor’s office to determine what, if any, charges will come of this.”

Yeah, Cap, do check into the possibility that some child safety laws might have been violated. And while you’re at it, take a look at grandma safety law violations too. The sheriff is also investigating whether the kid was in a car seat as required by SC law. If he wasn’t, then woe be poor ole grandma cause she’s gonna be looking at some hard time in the Rock Hill clink. As soon as she gets out of the hospital.

blimps away!

That wacky bunch of knuckleheads over at the defense department have gone and pulled another boner. This time a huge spy blimp they had floating over Maryland managed to go AWOL. I had no idea that our entire eastern seaboard was protected from incoming missiles by a big balloon tied to the ground by a long piece of string. This bit of high technology was created by the mind trust over at Raytheon. I thought they just made AA batteries. Boy has MJE been asleep at the switch. This is how they tout (or “trout,” in the vernacular) their spyware on their website:

Mission: Seize the Spectrum!

Turn the lights out on your enemy. Operate unimpeded in the modern threat environment. To do that, you need to control the electromagnetic spectrum.

Huh? Sieze the spectrum? How about you seize your bloody blimp, which by all accounts was indeed “operating unimpeded in the modern threat environment.” And in case you weren’t aware of it readers, Pennsylvania is our enemy because the limp blimp, just as advertised, managed to pull down power lines on its descent and it was lights out for a couple of hundred thousand of those people. Raytheon rules the electromagnetc spectrum, for damn sure, at least in Pennsylvania.

Batteries anyone?

MJE finally broke out of the gas tank and hot footed it up to the big city to visit Bandoleira-Saturnalia for a few days. Always good to monitor one’s investments. This one is apparently sound but not yet yielding any monetary returns. I suppose I should take the long view which is what my broker always says when I have just invested a chunk of change and the market drops 300 points. I don’t worry because I can apparently create currency out of thin air, like Bitcoin, which I completely do not understand but if it allows me to buy a nice piece of bling and pay for it with monopoly money then sign me up.

But I digress, B-S and I had a grand time. I stayed at a highly overpriced hotel specializing in rooms so small you have to store your suitcase under the bed (which they thoughtfully made high enough off the floor to accommodate a good sized suitcase). They describe the meager size of the rooms as being “Parisian.” Excusez moi, Monsieur Hotelier, square footage is square footage whether you’re in Paris or Peoria. Plus housekeeping never made it to the room one day despite its being empty from 9am until 5:30pm. When I called the front desk to complain they asked if I’d like someone to come right now, WTF??? I’d been hoofing it all over gotham city for hours, why would I want some overworked and underpaid filipino changing the sheets while I stand in the shower stall. Then the “manager” of the hotel called and haughtily asked if I had specifically requested that the room be cleaned earlier…huh, no, I assumed that it would be done within the 9 hour span of time I was not in it. Guess he thought I just fell off the turnip truck, maybe so but I did manage to ask that the bill be adjusted for my inconvenience before I hit the dirt.

Anyway, it was a glorious fall weekend, we walked the high line, swooned in Chelsea Market and went to lots of museums. FYI, if someone can paint a 4” by 4” piece of wood white and sell it to MOMA then my future in the art world is rock solid. And Jackson Pollock, don’t even get me started, I can hear him smirking from the grave. There was a massive Picasso retrospective, but frankly a little bit goes a long way. I haven’t seen that much deconstruction since the OB&C, in a fit of pique took a chain saw to the yew trees in the front yard and we ended up with three 5’ totem poles and a mountain of dismembered limbs.

I was sadly underwhelmed with the big city food, which, coming from New Orleans is a chronic condition. However I have to give the server at one joint props for menu item description. They featured fluke, which I thought was either a parasitic worm or a whale’s tale, neither of which seemed especially appetizing. But according to said server a fluke is “a flat, low energy fish.” MJE has zero interest in the relative energy level of anything I am planning to consume as long as it’s inactive when served, but I would at least like to know what it is. Turns out the featured fluke is a summer flounder. For god’s sake call a spade a spade and bring the me the paper on which is written descriptions and prices of available fermented grape beverages, pronto.

how can’t I kill thee, let me count the ways

Disclaimer: MJE is writing the following simply as an observation of the current screwed-up state of affairs in the execution biz. So cool your jets.

I just read an article about states having trouble figuring out how to execute people. Really? Schedule a field trip to the hood in any city and you’ll get a pretty quick tutorial. It’s not that hard, the douchebags you are trying to dispatch managed to get it right, and probably more than once.

But no, the bureaucratic cretins in the prison system insist on making it so complicated that they can’s figure out their own protocols and as a result can’t manage to off anyone. The following is from a recent article in the New York Times:

Oklahoma last week halted the execution of Richard E. Glossip, who was part of the challenge the Supreme Court had turned down, after officials realized two hours before it was to take place that the state’s supplier had sent prison officials the wrong drug. The error, which led to a stay of all executions, had occurred at least once before. Oklahoma executed an inmate in January using that wrong drug — potassium acetate instead of the potassium chloride that is required under the state’s protocol

But it gets even better, now the prisons can’t get their hands on the drugs they think they need because US suppliers don’t want to have anything to do with the dimwits. As a result, they are are ordering their snuff stuff from abroad, which the FDA says is illegal. Seriously, even MJE couldn’t make this crap up.

The final piece in this tableau of idiocy is the question of sedation and duration. How hard is that. Michael Jackson sedated himself to smithereens, get what he used! And duration, really? Dying takes time, just like birth, and MJE don’t hear anybody angsting over how long it takes for a pain-wracked woman to dilate and deliver.

If you are in the business of performing capitol punishment then follow Nike’s advice and “Just Do It.” Or call a veterinarian.