Tuesday, December 13, 2005

All I Want For Christmas

Is Rove's indictment.
Short of a last minute intervention by Rove’s attorney, Special Prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald is expected to ask a grand jury investigating the outing of CIA agent Valerie Plame Wilson to indict Deputy White House Chief of Staff Karl Rove for making false statements to the FBI and Justice Department investigators in October 2003, lawyers close to the case say.

I've been a good girl, Fitzmas Claus, really, I have.

He's Dead Jim

Tookie was executed this morning. Some on the left are upset by this, saying it's an outrage, the man had found redemption, his soul had been cleansed, death penalty bad.

I say good riddance. So long, Tookster.

Why?

Because Stanley Tookie Williams was a cold-blooded murderer.

So what if he found redemption in the decades he spent on death row, writing children's books like every other "celebrity" today. He had the time, unlike his victims.

Too bad Tookie didn't suck on the barrel of his shotgun and pull the trigger after he gunned down that 7-11 clerk for $120, or the three members of the Yang/Lin family for which Tookie netted a whopping $100; he would have saved California taxpayers a helluva lot of money, the families of his victims could have maybe found peace a long time ago, and Tookie could have spent the past couple decades begging his God for forgiveness instead of remaking himself into some sort of born-again, because in the end, his God is the highest court. It is He who will judge him, and no doubt did so in February and March, 1979.

Justice served.

Capitola Unplugged

Hiya Banter babies.

Well, it's been crazy 'round RL the past few weeks. Remember that employee buy-out I crowed about in October/November? The one where I was gonna get to boss people around and double my paycheck? Kapoot. Over. Finished. Fucked. Why? My boss, the owner who was mentoring us in and him out, died.

Mr. B went from not feeling well, to being hospitalized, to dying, in four short weeks. Thus, no grand changing of the guards, no financial security, just condolences, a funeral, a last paycheck, hello unemployment. Merry fucking Christmas.

So what does a girl do when faced with impending debtdoom? Save, scrape, conserve every dime? Oh, hell no. She buys a new car! Whoohooo! Got me a silver 323ic BMW, and friends, let me tell you, it is smokin' hot. And I look gooooooood in it. Me me me me. It's all about me. Desperate times call for unrestrained spending. So there.

My resume hit the Architectural offices within a forty mile radius of my house, thrown from a plane in a well-coordinated spam -- I gotta eat in January! And then there's this nasty business of appeasing my mortgage lender.... but fuck it today, today I'm snackin' on condelence See's Candy, running errands, spending like I have a job... or a savings account that wasn't wiped clean by Roseville BMW, and awaiting Rove's indictment, because, sing it with me... it's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas, la la la la la.