Mind Scalpel

Okay, slight modification of the Pact With Satan criteria — here there’s no question of the guy’s talent, but the “eternal youth” side of his Faustian bargain is just so blatant it’s a wonder no one else has called him out about it.

I’m talking about Ted Sorenson, of course. Guy was Jack Kennedy’s speechwriter. Here’s a picture of him back in those days (click on this text).

Now check him out now, with Candidate Obama.

AAaaahhh!!! Serious Dorian Gray action going on here. It’s so clear he’s just bleached his hair a little and changed his glasses. Come on! Does he think the Superman/Clark Kent “disguise” thing works in real life?  The guy is eighty freaking years old! Couple that with Obama’s Svengali-like mastery of cult indoctrination and I’m starting to think diabolical conspiracies.

Okay, maybe I’m just a little jealous. All I’ve been able to achieve so far is a Pact With Stan. Don’t get me wrong, Stan’s a nice neighbor with some cool tools; they’re just not cool enough to sell your soul for….

I’ve been relatively confident in the likelihood of the United States maintaining its hegemony in the world, not because of the superiority of our military capabilities, but because of the innate corrosiveness of our culture.

You see, America’s international predominance is not based on nukes or aircraft carrier battle groups, both of which are inherently cool and good for impressing the yokels, but rather on these (click here).

Okay, sorry about that, readers who are at work.

Anyway, our secret weapon — so secret that we can spray it out across the world with satellites and yet still not view it as the weaponization of space that it really is — is our mind-numbing, consumerist, degenerate worldview! And I say that as a compliment.

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Oh, lordy. Michelle Malkin reminded me that today is Earth Day.

So with the parade of “environmental” celebrities and presidential candidates justifying their ownership and use of multiple-acre mansions and fuel-guzzling, pollution-belching private jets (including – I kid you not – a private 707 owned by John Travolta) by pointing out that they’re purchasing “carbon offsets,” I did a little investigation of that industry, and then a little thinking, which in my case is a dangerous combination.

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Well, thank heavens for the crack training we’ve given to some Transportation Security Agency employees. As reported by local6.com, the agents were able to infer that someone might be a threat at the Orlando airport, working only from incredibly subtle cues that passengers characterized as the guy “acting crazy.”

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Michelle Malkin relays a Portfolio story on how Warner Music is spearheading a lobbying push for Congress to require a “music tax” be bundled into your monthly internet service provider fee — supposedly for unlimited access to “a database of all known music.”

Apart from the fact that the phrase “new tax” gets most people in a gun-polishin’, survivalist-cabin-buyin’, Libertarian-votin’ mood, the music industry has apparently completely missed the fact that there’s at least one enormous industry firmly in front of it in line: Pornographers!

You heard that right. Do you really think the first thing the geeks who originally developed the Internet thought, when they were done soldering the last wire in place, was “hey, now I can share music with someone”?

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Okay, I admit it. I am torqued. Torqued!

Do you have any idea how much it’s cost me to develop (and, via espionage, steal) my own nuclear weaponry? More than a few peanut butter sandwiches, let me tell you.

And now I see this story, about how we accidentally sent some nuclear warhead fuses to Taiwan. Accidentally! They didn’t even order them! They had asked us for helicopter batteries!

How the hell does this happen? This is worse inventory control than Wal-Mart uses for razor blades, let alone nuclear weaponry, and far worse shipping control than FedEx uses for Christmas gifts.  Is there some vast government warehouse somewhere, jam-packed with both junk and classified weapons technology cluttering the shelves, with some knuckleheaded clerk cruising around on a Segway scooter randomly filling boxes? “Dope-di-dope; well, gee, batteries…batteries…can’t find those…oh heck, let’s toss in some of these doohickeys…they look all electrical-like….” And off the Minuteman missile fuses go to Taiwan.

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A quick observation and inference:

The Supreme Court is hearing arguments today on the meaning of the Second Amendment (it’s examining whether Washington D.C.’s gun ban is unconstitutional, and in deciding that issue will likely discuss whether the Second Amendment guarantees an individual right to keep and bear arms). It also recently agreed to hear a case on the FCC’s power to prohibit foul language on the airwaves.

Here’s my prediction:

The Supremes will decide that we don’t have an unfettered right to defend ourselves with firearms.

But we’ll be able to swear about that as much as we want.

Look, we’ve got to face facts here: Most states’ names are either incredibly dorky, completely illogical or downright offensive.

Seriously, I mean, “Rhode Island”? Not an island.

“West Virginia”? No “East Virginia”.

Washington D.C.? There’s a huge freakin’ state all the way on the other side of the continent that everybody confuses with our national capitol.

Okay, technically, D.C.’s not a state, either, but you get my point.

So Something Must Be Done. We’ve got to change those names!

You might think, first of all, that this is just too large a task even to contemplate. I disagree. Prince was able to do it (heck, he went all the way to an unpronounceable symbol just to mess over his record company — you go, [Unpronounceable Symbol]!), and I’ll wager that more people have heard of him than, say, “North Dakota.”

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Okay, no schadenfreude on Mind Scalpel! I have an entirely different blog devoted to that.

Well, maybe a little schadenfreude. Fine, it’s a schadenfreude fest! I bathe in schadenfreude.

But the main thing I wanted to do is give a nod in the direction of Nick Galbreath, a New York resident whose domain-registration reflexes are as sharp as those 13-year-olds who, jacked up on Jolt and Red Bull, play Halo 2, Team Fortress 2 and other fine first-person shooter computer games with eye-blurring speed.

See, apparently within minutes of the Eliot Spitzer Emperor-Has-No-Clothes Club VIP scandal breaking on March 10, Mr. Galbreath registered the client9.com domain name. No word yet on what Mr. Galbreath intends to do with the domain, but he does have a blog at http://blog.modp.com/ with a cryptic FAQ about it. Come on, Nick, make some bucks!

Now that I am on this subject, I have to say that I am just aching for one of these spouses who is forced to do the “clutch walk” (degrading parade to confessional podium clutching hand of philandering spouse) to interrupt her husband’s speech, right after he says “Good Morning,” by shoving him out of the way, grabbing the mic, and saying “That’s enough out of you, Eliot, you pathetic bastard. My god, I can’t believe I actually married someone named “Eliot.” Or “Spitzer,” for that matter. Okay, reporters, here’s a short list of my husband’s inadequacies… [ten minute laundry list, with reference to new web site with more details, maybe titled "www.daddys-five-hundred-million- dollar-fortune-isnt-enough-to-compensate-for-being-married-to- Eliot-Spitzer-anymore.com"], and I’ve drained a few million dollars from our bank account to pay for the ten nastiest lawyers in the country to break our prenup.”

That must happen someday soon to terminate this whole drag-your-shellshocked-wife-to-the-podium-as-cover phenomenon. It’s disgusting. Make the walk alone, dude; take it like a man.

So, what’s all this fuss about the South Korean company that’s offering to clone your pets? Okay, granted, there is one small issue, mainly that the people who are rich enough to have this done tend to have offensively annoying pets, and therefore we could be polluting the world with more of these (click at your own risk). Still, one could engage in countermeasures by cloning big, fierce, poodle-eating hell mastiffs, so it could end up being a self-compensating system.
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