Please don't let the number of links discourage you: overlap abounds Besides, depending upon how much you want to know, this summary may suffice: http://www.factcheck.org/2008/04/what-is-public-financing
On Sunday The Mad Bomber gifted Fristian Phrenologists all and everywhere with Christmas in September, when she woozily wobbled at some 9/11 shindig, and then collapsed, bodily, into a van. Like any sick animal, she sought refuge in a place she associates with safety and comfort—in this case, her daughter's apartment. From which she emerged some 90 minutes later, smiling brightly, petting a small child, and pronouncing it "a beautiful day in New York." Then, she went on her way.
But this would not be the end of it. Oh no. Because, in these days, all and everything, and always, it is filmed. My bowel movement, yesterday morning, for instance, it was filmed by two separate cameras: one, fixed to a small drone passing by the bathroom window; two, an in-the-bowl "Colon Cam," apparently now standard equipment with such plumbing fixtures, connected directly to the federal Department of Howdy Doody, so that the health of the colons, of all the people, it may be monitored, and in real time, and for the Good, of All the Nation.
And so, of the Bomber's wamble and fall, there was Footage. And this Footage, it went out unto the tubes. And the tubes, lo, and yea, verily, they, and immediately, became unsane. Great crashing waves of ecstatic orgasms, they pulsated through the Fristians, as they rhythmically ejaculated, great streams of Theories. She'd stroked out, The Mad Bomber. Her battery-pack, it ran down. She'd ODed, and on jimson weed. Anus 
Jones, he was on the case: Parkinson's. The Express weighed in: advanced vascular dementia, and she will be dead, in six months.
The Bomber people then rolled out, as would-be Moses, to attempt to part this red sea of Fristing, the Bomber's personal sawbones, who said she'd diagnosed the Bomber with pneumonia on Friday—and, it was this pneumonia, that had caused the Bomber, to must needs be wheelbarrowed on out, from the 9/11 bacchanalia.
But the Fristians, they were not buying the pneumonia—they would not buy anything, even if the Bomber were to undergo a complete physical, live and on the television: the Fristians, they would say it was fake, like the moon landing. Meanwhile, the Normal people, in the press and elsewhere, they were wondering why the sam-hey the Bomber, she didn't just announce the pneumonia on Friday, rather than sitting on the news, until after she'd had a bad jimson-weed reaction, in front of all and everybody. "I didn't think it was a big deal," the Bomber said of the pneumonia, while aides mumbled anonymously about "privacy." But the Bomber, of all people, she should know that, for those wanting to be the president, there is no privacy, and everything is always a big deal, about each and every body part, which belong, to all the people, at all times, and not to the presidents, or the president-tryers: her husband, after all, was the man whose penis was intensively dissected by the people, and for eighteen straight months, until utimately it was actually impeached. With the very semen, of the Clenis, entered, as Evidence. On its way. To permanent, stained, display. At the Smithsonian.
From POLITICO
"I've signed this subpoena. We want all the 302s....and you are hereby served," Chaffetz said.
"Since when did Congress have to go through FOIA to obtain 302s?" Gowdy asked.
From POLITICO
Tourniquet says:
i'm probably
going to get a lot of hate for this.
but in what world are women a minority? at best, you're talking about portions of percentages per person. (woo, alliteration)
ed: there are .02% more men than women on the planet in countries with a population greater than 200k.
Today, I received an e-mail from MoveOn.org asking me to donate five dollars in order to fund a new commercial attacking Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump. The commercial would focus on the prospect of Trump getting his hands on America's nuclear weapons. As the e-mail stated:
Donald Trump's climbing in the polls.1 It's time to go nuclear. (In a way.)
MoveOn made an important discovery in the course of our intensive research this summer: A key bloc of swing voters appears to be most strongly persuaded to vote against Trump when confronted with the threat of his finger on the nuclear button.2
As part of this research effort, our Video Lab made an ad, ran the video online to show it to voters in swing states, and teamed up with researchers at the Analyst Institute to study its effectiveness—and the results blew us away.
In our controlled study, men over the age of 30 who watched our video about Trump's finger on the nuclear button were seven percentage points more likely to support Clinton over Trump, compared to those who didn't watch the ad.
Given his at times erratic behavior, concerns over Trump getting the bomb are understandable. However, the people at Move On failed to consider the issue of their own candidate getting the bomb, which is arguably concerning in its own right.
My Gut Reaction: Somehow, I don't think someone who threatens to annihilate Iran is a safe option for the presidency, either.
More below the fold...
Yeah, I remember Nine Eleven. I was on my way to teach a morning class and by the time that class was over, I was shocked to hear that both of the towers had collapsed.
Almost as soon as it became clear that it was a terrorist attack, the feelings of anger began to well up within me, but the anger I was feeling was definitely not the kind of anger that Bush was modelling for the media to transmit to the American people.
My anger was directed at America's leaders whom I could see were clearly responsible for this horrifying development.
All states have now decided the ballot status of the Green Party's Jill Stein for president of the United States.
Rhode Island, the last state to decide, will allow Stein on the ballot. This gives her direct access to 44 state ballots, plus Washington D.C. These account for access to 480 total electoral college votes. It takes 270 votes to win the presidency outright.
As most of you know, on Labor Day the site crashed when Johnny tried something new, and it took him overnight to repair from the crash. Yikes! So we'll say goodbye to summer with Labor Day Caucus Critters one week late.
I thought to make sure your Labor Day is hoppy, I'd see how many hopping critters I could find.
... at least you'd think so for all the heated discussion it has spawned.
Sigh. Once there was a dream of a site where a community of smart, kind and decent people gathered to organize and make change.
I've been reading through the various threads from Sunday this morning debating whether the word "bitch" should be verboten on this site. One side of the debate is adamant that its use is hurtful and sexist. The other side of the debate is adamant that it is their "right" to use it, regardless of whether it offends people.
Both sides expect the site moderation to side with them and enforce their rights.
