I didn’t just fall off the manure truck yesterday. When someone offers me chocolate-dipped poop cone I can usually tell within a few bites that the flavor profile is off. No shit! Someone notify Top Chef. I’m ready for the big time.

It’s almost like just speaking something doesn’t automatically make it true. Get the fuck out! The mere act of speaking bullshit isn’t like farting rainbows? Sure, some fantastical statements may work on the weak-minded but that doesn’t mean they are true. The people who fling poo know about this little principle and willingly choose it as a tactic. Bully.

What do you call a democratic process where the “facts” being argued and bandied about are the equivalent of a chocolate-dipped cone ‘o poo? Can it at least be a waffle cone of poo? Let’s be charitable and call it “pointless.” Or we take that first wee baby step of honesty and just call it “evil.”

How are outright lies, hyperbole, and flamboyant histrionics helpful to civilized discourse? I don’t know. You tell me.

Think back to how the “founding fathers” did it. “Benjamin Franklin, you girdled petticoated fool! You know damn well that if we enacted your proposal the Earth would crack in two, lava would boil out from the core, and we’d all be simultaneously melted as we drifted into space! Hot lava burn baby!”

Somehow I don’t think that’s how documents like the U.S. Constitution came about. But this is 2012. We’re more civilized than that. We’ve even got Old Spice underarm deodorant with that fantastical ride-a-horse-backwards fellow.

You might be asking what prompted this tirade? It’s just that I’m tired of hearing Obama’s mortal enemies referring to the U.S. debt as “Obama’s Debt.” I call bullshiats. It’s time for more maths and another pie chart. Gee, I hope this is one pie that isn’t made out of poo.
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