Category Archives: american politics


Dear Mitty:

I hope you don’t mind my calling you Mitty? ‘Mitt’ sounds so stiff, so formal, just like the blood-sucking billionaire we used to read about. The venture capitalist vampire who sucked dry the lifeblood of a hundred soon-to-die companies.

So, allow me to call you Mitty. If only because we slept together all those years.

Hey, It’s not easy to woo and screw an entire state, but you made it look like child’s play. Swooping down on us. Climbing in our window. A lover who came in the dark and left before dawn. We can still feel the lingering kisses, Mitty, and recall the eager, sophomoric foreplay of your 1994 senatorial campaign, not to mention the SLAM-BAM-THANK YOU M’AM screw job you gave us before you left. Many of us recall that fourth year of your ONE-AND-ONLY term as governor, when you couldn’t find the interest to spend even half your days in the state. It was tough living with someone who was never around, Mitty. Clearly your love—if love it was—had fled somewhere else.

Though your marriage was consummated in Massachusetts your heart was now committed to Washington, D.C.

And what about when you testified about Massachusetts’ liberals down in Washington, Mitty? These days, you castigate Obama for apologizing for America. You were still our governor and you were dissing us to a panel of senators as if Massachusetts and its citizens were some objectionable lab-bred culture.

Hey Mitty, it’s not easy shifting your shape from a moderate’s to a conservative! The things you have to do, right?

And so you left us; leaving your job as our top officeholder unfinished. How many people can govern a state for three years and finish their mission, Mitty? There was so much you still could have done. You had already developed strong relationships with the legislature, knew how to get things done. But you heard another voice calling. Once again, desire was rising. Here within reach was another object of affection to woo and screw. A new siren’s call to chase after.

I guess we should feel proud you left us for a bigger state. But not just any state, Mitty, or one state, but the entire United States of America! And if you don’t win them through election, whose to say you can’t buy them later?

Well, anyway, let me end this before I start to sound bitter. Don’t want you thinking your abrupt rejection has left us sad or bitter. Other states might feel exploited or cheapened by your quick, loveless encounter, like a prostitute who feels undeserving of a goodbye kiss. But we always secretly knew you would love us and leave us.

No hard feelings, Mitty, we were only looking for a cheap thrill ourselves.

Your landscapers asked to be remembered.



For The Commonwealth of Massachusetts
(signed by)
Deval Patrick
Governor (in his SECOND TERM)


Des Moines, IA—You can almost hear the crowd roar as half a dozen Special Republicans appear to be approaching the finish line in Iowa’s Mad Dog Caucus competition. This once-every-four-year event has never seen such a riotous conclusion as its field of Special Republicans goes beyond all limits to prove to the Iowan judges that each one is more unhinged, unfeeling and venomous than the others. At the front of the pack is, of course, Mitt Romney, Special Republican from Massachusetts—or is it Utah, or maybe New Hampshire(?)—who seems to be running out front of the pack because of his limitless war chest and his unchallenged ability to shapeshift into virtually any appearance the contest requires. Romney, who has sucked dry and gleefully fenestrated countless profitable businesses as a venture capitalist has nevertheless won the Big Bullshitting Event, convincing deception-starved Iowans that he’s the man to save the economy and create new jobs. Yes, it’s a little like Jerry Sandusky running on a “Save The Children” ticket, but that’s why this race is worthy of the country’s top Special Republicans.

Then there are the Three Wise Men of Wacko Christian Ideology: Rick Santorum, Rick Perry and Michelle Bachman, who fought to be included in the “Wise Men” grouping by declaring she has the balls Obama left behind on his Hawaiian vacation. Special Republican Champions everyone, if only for their ability to convince sensible Iowans to buy into mind-boggling, bible-thumping beliefs…that Darwin was not only nuts, but was clearly sent to Hell where he’s getting shtupped twice daily by members of the Aryan Nation…that God created man and woman on the sixth day, then accidentally created gays on his day off. That Muslims can’t be Americans because nowhere does it say “In Allah we Trust” on our nation’s currency.

But the two Special Republicans providing the most pure entertainment and muscular effort are Newt Gingrich and Ron Paul. Gingrich, who never met a moral position he couldn’t both violate and profess undying love for, had a brief sprint to the front of the pack, but was brought down by a volley of bricks, rocks and arrows thrown by totally independent, non-aligned political action committees. And Paul who would cut government programs and expenditures to a size similar to when John Smith first proposed marriage to Pocahontas, is finding great support from students and others who appreciate that one Special Republican actually gave some thought to what he would do as president. Weird thought perhaps, but thought nevertheless.

And so we come down to the final hours of Iowa’s Special Republicans Competition. Each entrant bent on proving how tough, how uncaring and how whiter than white they can be. Health care reform? Repeal it. Taxing the wealthy? Not a penny more. Teaching evolution in our schools? God forbid. Allowing gay marriage? Over their dead bodies. Crippling Social Security and Medicare? It’s about time. Torturing prisoners? Absolutely, especially if they aren’t Christian.

Watch these pages to see who makes it first across the finish line.

Most likely running backward.


(F-BOMB ALERT: The following satiric essay contains multiple F-Bombs. Read at your own discretion!)

After much deliberation, I am making two historic announcements. First off, I proudly announce I am officially, as of today, renouncing my pie-in-the-sky, do-gooder liberal bias, and applying for membership in the fabled ranks of Republican Americanus. Yes, I am joining the Republican Party. I admit to being a Scrooge-like tightwad. I admit to hating everyone under 45, and everyone with less than a million dollars in their bankbooks, and of course toto el mundo who weren’t born in the good old United States of America.

America is for Americans, we Republicans always say, and you’re not really an American if you’re not smart enough to have earned a small fortune. Doesn’t matter how you earned it, but if you made it by swindling old ladies out of their pensions, so much the better! And if you’re looking for a political party that will help you hold onto every penny of that fortune, even if it means having to dismantle social security and medicare to do so, then look no further. You are a born Republican, as I am, and you’re tired of all those lazy and ignorant sons of bitches who won’t get a job and who multiply like sex-starved rabbits living off our wealth and largesse.

Yes, I, Paul Steven Stone, after years of haranguing the Republicans for starting unnecessary wars, torturing enemy prisoners, representing elite and wealthy interests, stifling our liberties, protecting polluters and bugging our phones, I’ve stopped pretending I think more of others than I do of myself. I now proudly admit that I am #1! It’s all about me. My money, my family, my friends, my …(Did I mention my money?) And nobody takes care of ME and MINE like the Republican Party. Which leads to my second announcement…

Today I hereby announce my intention of running for Representative from the 10th Congressional District of Massachusetts. Running, of course, as a Republican. That means, I will take any and all contributions from anyone trying to buy influence with me. It means I will immediately tie my hands as a future lawmaker by signing a pledge that will force me to vote against any measure that might raise tax revenues.

Just know that I will never disappoint you. I will be your voice, your conscience, and your balls…all in one! As your Republican representative, I will say “Fuck you!” to old people, poor people, immigrants and minorities with every vote I take. I will say “Fuck you!” to any government program that aids or assists those less fortunate than myself. Or cleans up the environment. I will say “Fuck You!” to anyone who thinks our government exists to serve the people over corporate interests. Just listen for the echo of every vote I take as your Republican representative, “Fuck You! Fuck You! Fuck You!”

And think of all the fun I’ll have! I’ll get to obfuscate my totally biased and elitist voting record. I’ll get to pretend that privatizing or dismantling social security will be an improvement to the system as it is now. Get to argue till I’m blue in the face that increasing taxes on ridiculously wealthy people will discourage the creation of jobs. I love that one. Like a billionaire is going to cut back on making more billions because his government asked him to pay his fair share of taxes! Right! What the hell does taxing wealthy people have to do with creating jobs? Are they holding back on creating new jobs out of spite? If they are, that’s pretty pissy!

Enough of this stupidity. Forget all logic, put your own vested interests aside, ignore that I will only represent the interests of 1% of our population, and vote for Paul Steven Stone (Republican) as your next Congressman. It’s time to bring back amoral, conscienceless, selfish, right-wing sense to the Massachusetts political landscape. Remember, it’s not what your country can do for its people that counts, it’s what your country can do for YOU.

Thank you and God Bless The United States of America!

The American Dream: An Update

Last time I saw the American Dream was Tuesday, down at the Unemployment Office. He was looking pretty worn out, as if being unemployed for over a year was finally getting to him.

“How’s it going?” I asked cautiously, not wanting to step on any sensitive toes.

“It’s finally getting to me,” he answered. “It’s been over a year since I worked. And now my youngest, who I just finished paying for her college, lost her job and can’t find anything. She says there are no jobs.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I offered, starting to move off. But the American Dream grabbed my sleeve, arresting my departure.

“My son moved in with me,” he continued, the story beginning to gush out like a cataract. “Guess how much he owes from his college loans…”

“I don’t…”

“Guess,” he pushed, almost desperately. “I hear this figure in my head when I lie down to sleep at night. Guess—oh, hell, I’ll tell you—$240,000! Almost a quarter million dollars in college loan debt! ‘Who are you borrowing from, the mafia?’ I asked him. But he just kept saying, ‘Sorry, Dad.’

“A quarter of a million dollars; that’s a lot of money.” I opined.

“And it was compounding daily!”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do? I paid the debt down to $200K. Now my ex-wife and I pay off the interest each month, keeping it at $200K. But once my unemployment runs out, she and my son will be on their own.”

He ran his hands through his disheveled hair, causing me to comment, “You don’t look so good, you know?” And it was true. Ordinarily, the American Dream is a very buttoned down, upbeat guy; but this morning it looked as though he’d been up all night wrestling with a feverish lover or an unsolvable problem.

“The well’s almost empty,” he said through a dry mouth. “Unemployment’s running out, my savings are gone, my stock holdings, including my 401(k), are next to worthless, and my son, as I mentioned earlier, has moved back in with me and taken over my family room.”

“Well I have some good news,” I said happily. “I got a job! This is the last time you’ll see me hanging around these gloomy environs,” I added, giving a meaningful look around at the roomful of unemployed misfits and shirkers. “I’m back to a real paycheck starting next week.”

Doing what?” he asked, clearly trying to hide his envy.

“I’m a lobbyist,” I answered, feeling somewhat out of my comfort zone. Normally I don’t speak about my livelihood with someone who has the weakness of character to be out of work. No matter that we were friends or acquaintances. Not able to resist bragging, I added, “I’m a great lobbyist really! I only lost my previous job because of jealousy and my boss hated me. I used to lobby for “financial interests” such as banks, brokerage houses and lenders of all stripes. Hey, I was the one who lobbied to make it impossible for student debtors to declare bankruptcy on their student loans.”

“But my son…” the American Dream said, realizing the import of what I had just said.

“Yes, I lobbied for the bill that will ensure your son is in debt for most of his natural life. You and he are lucky. Had I had my way entirely—or my client’s way, really—the interest rates on his loans would rise automatically every fifth year. Republicans liked it, but they were worried; they’d just guaranteed the drug companies that the US government wouldn’t use its bargaining power to lower the price of drugs for the elderly. Didn’t want to be seen as giving away the store.

“Then there was my work against Wall Street Reform,” I continued, uncertain that the American Dream wished to hear about my dismantling any real financial reforms proposed by congress or the president.

“If it wasn’t for me,” I crowed, “People like you who by no fault of your own find yourselves broke, in debt and about to lose your homes, could have previously sued the banks, investment houses and hedge fund managers who turned your family’s home into a worthless investment vehicle. Now, you have to sue Bernie Madoff because he’s the only one taking any responsibility for screwing up our financial system.

“Too bad Bernie didn’t hire my lobbying firm before the pyramid collapsed. We could have gotten him an exemption in the ‘too big to fail’ category. Or something.”

Obviously uncomfortable with me talking about my past triumphs, the American Dream asked me about my new job and its responsibilities. “Is there anything you’re doing that you can be proud of?” he asked pointedly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I answered huffily. “I’m proud of everything I’ve done. Our system is set up so that everyone has freedom to participate. If the rich have more money to buy a larger slice, well that helps all of us; puts more money into the economy. At least into my economy!”

“You’re not answering the question,” he reminded me.

“My job is to help congress rewrite regulations,” I answered proudly. “All the new regulations and restrictions congress recently enacted are preventing jobs, business growth and other opportunities.” I explained. “As are all those environmental restrictions.”

“Wait a minute,” the American Dream said, seeming to suddenly awaken, as if from a dream. “Are you telling me that the Financial Sector, which caused our Economic Emergency because no one was watching them, now wants to use the Economic Emergency itself as an excuse to eliminate any rules or regulations they don’t like!”

“Exactly,” I said. “And I can be proud of playing a small role in that effort. I can also be proud of the small fortune I’ll get paid to do it.”

As the American Dream started to walk away, seemingly agitated, I called to him, “Where are you going?”

“For psychotherapy,” he answered sullenly. “All this crushing debt and relentless uncertainty is driving me crazy.”

“Word of advice,” I told him. “Sign up quickly. I’m working on a bill right now to drop that coverage from your health plan.”


For any democrats, progressives or dumbstruck Obama supporters wondering “What the hell happened?” in Massachusetts yesterday, let me offer a few thoughts.

As Pogo once said in a famous cartoon strip, “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

After eight years of Bush-Cheney malign neglect, the American presidency was turned over to a man who promised to change the way Washington worked. To take back power for the people. To curtail the power of the lobbyists and their entrenched special interests. To fight Wall Street for Main Street. To bridge partisan divide. And to restore America’s pride, not just as a powerful nation but a moral one as well.

And where do we find ourselves a year later?


With a president who appears to value comity over fighting for what he believes in. With a president who promised to fight for real health care reform but appeared to quickly abandon the very drug cost containment and public option elements that real reform requires.

We voted for a president who would fight drug companies for the right to import drugs from Canada and who would use America’s colossal bargaining power like a club to lower drug prices. Instead we ended up with a president who negotiated away his power in exchange for the pharmaceutical industry’s collusion in a program that would never threaten either their American monopoly or their colossal greed.

We voted for a president who would fight Wall Street but who quickly brought in the usual suspects to run things, some of them clearly tarnished by their inside involvement in the financial crisis or their initial efforts to make whole the bankers and CEOs whose greed and system manipulation caused the crisis.

This last year we have hungered for a President who would worry less about upsetting the apple cart and more about removing the bad apples and cleaning up the mess. It may have been politically expedient to give Bush and Cheney a ‘Get Out Of Jail Free’ card, but America’s constitution has been bloodied by their cowboy-up approach to starting wars, torturing prisoners, denying constitutional rights and subverting civil liberties.

To not shine a light on these illegal and destructive behaviors is to allow them to eat away in the dark at the cornerstone of rights that others have died to secure.

We voted for a president who, if he didn’t have the heart or courage to pursue these miscreants, would at least have had the wisdom to convene a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. If only to uphold the honor of his office and his somber responsibility to our Constitution.

Over the last year we have watched President Obama repeatedly step back from using the full weight and power of his position to foster the policies and programs he was elected to pursue. His willingness to enter into compromise or meaningless negotiation with fanatical Republicans so invested in protecting the wealth and power of entrenched interests they would never meet him halfway on any field, over any issue, will prove to be his—and probably our—undoing.

Mr. President, we elected you to clean up Dodge City, but it appears you’ve settled in far too comfortably, and much more quickly than anyone could have expected.

If your advisors tell you that you are doing a good job, fire them. If you can’t find worthy advisors to replace them, perhaps you’ll need to look beyond the boundaries of Washington, D.C.

That would be change we could believe in.