Thursday, June 24, 2010

(We All Live With) Obama’s Oil Spill

In the Gulf where it was born,
Lived an oil spill that fouled the sea,
And they tried to end its life,
But they were useless, BP,

So He golfed and took vacation,
Then He ate to get his fill,
And the crisis spun out of control,
And now we call it His oil spill,

We all live with Obama's oil spill,
Obama's oil spill, Obama's oil spill,
We all live with Obama's oil spill,
Obama's oil spill, Obama's oil spill.

Bobby Jindal He did ignore,
So in three Novembers He's out the door,
And the fat lady begins to sing.

(Vuvuzelas play)

We all live with Obama's oil spill,
Obama's oil spill, Obama's oil spill,
We all live with Obama's oil spill,
Obama's oil spill, Obama's oil spill.

(Full speed ahead, Mr. Oil Spill, there's a beach ahead!
Full speed over here, sir!
There's an oyster bed! And the White House!
Aye, aye, sir, gush!
Oil Spill! Oil Spill!)

As we learn to live with sheen (live with sheen)
Every one of us (every one of us) wants Him to leave (him to leave)
He is confused (he is confused) incompetent still (incompetent still)
About Obama's (about Obama's) oil spill (oil Spill) (Haha!)

We all live with Obama's oil spill,
Obama's oil spill, Obama's oil spill,
We all live with Obama's oil spill,
Obama's oil spill, Obama's oil spill.


We all live with Obama's oil spill,
Obama's oil spill, Obama's oil spill,
We all live with Obama's oil spill,
Obama's oil spill, Obama's oil spill.

With musical accompaniment for those without an ear for song.

UPDATE: Thanks to Nice Deb for including the spill in her Thursday Oil Spill Blog Links.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

I Guess I Got Carried Away

It's gets boring down here; you'd be stir crazy too if all you did was pump 1.5 to 2.5 million gallons of oil into the Gulf all day long. I didn't really mean any harm. I guess I just got carried away.

It's that robot's fault. One of those damned little bastards that's laughingly been trying to help BP suck up more of my gusher. It kept pestering me too much. The little thing's a flirt, bouncing around, back and forth, like a dog happy to see its master. So I decided to mess with it.

All I did was introduce it to Frank Zappa. I played a little Joe's Garage (hey, if SpongeBob can have music under the sea, why the hell can't I?). When the CD got around to the tune Sy Borg -- where Joe goes into the closet to have a groovy orgy with robots -- the little bugger started flitting around like a TeleFunken U-47 and, before I knew it, the bastard was blabbering on about government sponsored recreational services while plooking my venting system. It didn't take long for the robot to drop dead from over-exhaustion, and there was my cap, all plooked up. BP had to remove it, and my gusher become a volcano again.

Poor BO. I bet he's a little mad I stole his thunder today. I told him the front page belongs to me.

Hey, BO: The Front Page Belongs to ME

When BO sits down with Gen. Stanley McChrystal today for a beer summit over the Afghanistan war chief’s loose lips, he’ll just be trying to knock me off the front pages.

On the one hand, I’m impressed with the swift and bold action he’s taking with McChrystal. If criticizing BO was all it took to get his prompt attention, I would have started this blog a lot sooner than three weeks ago. Then maybe the effort to kick my ass would be a lot further along.

But the fact is, even if BO manages to give McChrystal one of the pink slips he wears around the Oval Office to match the new furniture he had Interior Decorator Ken Salazar install, he won’t be feeling pretty and witty and bright for long.

Unfortunately for BO, I'm still front page news, thanks to federal Judge Martin L.C. Feldman, who quashed BO’s moratorium on deepwater drilling yesterday. In yet another blow for the Failure in Chief, Feldman said the Regime not only didn’t prove an all out ban was necessary but also that BO’s truth-changers misstated that the National Academy of Engineering supports a 6 month moratorium on drilling in the Gulf, when it does not.

I’ve said it before: BO lies and the Gulf dies.

When the news sifted down through the salt water in the Gulf last night, a lot of my oil field friends threw a party, thinking that happy days are here again, that they’ll be useful again, that people will love them again and will drive their cars to stores and on family vacations instead of to beaches on Tybee Island, Georgia, to form human booms in protest against Big Oil.

But my friends are pretty na├»ve. Never fear; BO won't ever stop trying to Rahm his ideology down your throats. He’s ordered Salazar to focus his efforts on writing a new set of lies the Regime can use to stop deepwater drilling in the Gulf. I guess that means there’ll be a moratorium on that order of pink drapes for the West Wing, for now.

Meanwhile, BO’s already managed to stop sand berm dredging off the coast of Louisiana, presumably because he had enough shrimp and crawfish and crab to eat during his visit last week and doesn’t plan to return anytime soon, unless a round of golf is involved.

If I wanted to be cynical, I'd say that BO really does want to shut down all the drilling rig operators and suppliers that rely on all the oil under the Gulf. I’d say he really does want to put tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of oil rig-dependent Americans, out of work. I’d say he really does want the oil companies to take their big fat bank accounts that funnel currency into the American economy and move to countries that aren’t looking to steer their societies back to something resembling pre-Industrial Age civilization.

Who am I kidding? I have more than enough facts to unequivocally say the BO Regime continues to act stupidly.

Monday, June 21, 2010

I Am Holding BO's Presidency Hostage

I'm beginning to convince myself that BO has forgotten all about being a "really good one-term president." He wants to be number 1, all right. No doubt about it ... but he's looking for a top finish at the bottom, to be lower than Jimmy Carter, the worst president ever – until now.

The parallels are striking, until you examine them further. Then you find out BO is so far in front, if there were a 10-run rule in presidential dumbassity, the umpires would stop the game and declare BO winner. Think about it. Carter inherits a bad economy and makes it a thousand times worse; BO inherits a bad economy and makes every economy for every president ever to come (if he lets them) look like Carter were president during the Reagan years. Carter exemplifies a malaise in which Americans ponder being the first generation to live beneath the economic standards their parents enjoyed; BO exemplifies a malaise in which Americans contemplate their future economies functioning below the standard of living in Afghanistan. Finally, Carter presides over an internationally embarrassing hostage crisis that threatens the ideal of America; BO presides over an inter-oceanic-ly embarrassing hostage crisis that threatens to cause every member of PETA to brave Louis Farrakhan's security in BO's Chicago neighborhood for a seat on the mothership off this planet.

These are the kinds of thoughts an oil spill kicks around while spewing (at least) 1.5 million gallons of oil, 24/7 a day, into your Gulf of Mexico. Now, I'm just a political novice, a strapping baby boy a little over two months old, but I can't help but notice the parallels between the two presidents ... and then immediately figure out who's immeasurably worse. That's probably why rumors are swirling around about Rahmbo wanting to leave BO for greener showers. He's too pragmatic for the Ideologue in Chief. When in doubt, the pragmatic sailor cuts loose and sinks the dinghy holding his ship back, letting the dead weight sink to the bottom ... down here with me.

Seriously, did the Regime think the American people would accept this past weekend's spin – that it was inconceivable for my boss, Tony Hayward, to go yachting with his son – without noticing that it doesn't in the slightest bit do "us all good as American citizens" for BO to get his life back by golfing for the 39th time since he took over America, while I gush and gush and gush?

Meanwhile, Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal, whose calls to the president go un-answered, took vacation from beating me back ... to negotiate his state's budget.

Really, this guy BO is either the worst president ever, or he has something up his sleeve, something so nefarious, I couldn't possibly explain it. After all, I'm just a spill, yes, I'm only a spill. What do I know about BO wanting you to pay $7 for a gallon of gas?

What do I know about BO trading American lives and sovereignty for political gain in Arizona, telling Arizona Sen. John Kyl (R-to the rescue) that if the Regime secured the U.S. border, the GOP wouldn't be willing to consider amnesty for any illegal bastard already in your country, which, by the way, includes me?

For all I know, I'm just the tip of the iceberg, the nightmare BP and BO don't want you to really know about, a puddle of the disaster to come. You decide. Hey, for all I know, and I'm just an oil spill talking, maybe it's all about money, vast amounts of money BO stands to earn.

What I do know is that, whatever the Democrats thought their November would look like after they shoved Obamacare down your throats, it's going to be far worse. When it's all said and done, I will make every Congresscritter remember their trips to the ice cream stand after little league games as stays in the basement of juvy hall with the queens.

I am the face of ecological and political disaster, and, dayum, I have really big ears.

It's the end of Day 63, BO, and I'm still gushing. Do you know where your presidency is? Right here, gasping for breath, beneath the steel-reinforced heel of my boot ... because I am holding it hostage.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

An Oil Spill Runs Through It

It's day 61. I'm still here. No one's kicked my ass yet. Not even close.

Oh, my employer claims to be kicking my ass. BP sucked up or burned off 25,000 barrels of me yesterday. It's an impressive figure, I must say ... because it's at least the amount I'm still gushing into the Gulf every day, if not more. But don't take my word for it. Want to have a better visual than the spill cam in the sidebar to your right? Here's another way to see what 25,000 barrels a day heading for your coastline looks like.

BP did kick someone's ass: My boss, Tony Hayward, is no longer my boss, a day after getting raked over the coals for political theater by all those big talkers in Congress. The good news is that our "Small People" expert is now getting more involved. I think I just felt a shiver in my stream.

Meanwhile, BO's big plan for kicking my ass continued to unfold yesterday. Don Quixote and his tilting at windmills Cap and Tax agenda will make you pay $7 a gallon for gas. I'm sure that will plug my damn hole. Come to think of it, you probably won't be driving much anyway. Not when unemployment around the Gulf goes up while deep water drilling profits go to Brazil, where politicians seem to be less concerned with showboating and more interested in improving their country's economic positioning in the world.

It's all part of BO's new plan of action: If I ignore it, the spill will go away.

That's why he spent $1 million of your tax dollars yesterday to speak for 10 minutes in Ohio about a "big ... deal," stimulus-funded construction. Few cared, and even fewer heard him, especially not the construction workers who should have been earning $200 to build a nearby hospital building but instead were ordered to take the day off without pay so BO could safely read from his teleprompter.

Not that Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal needed extraordinary security at about the same time, but he did need the Coast Guard to stop messing with the barges he'd gathered to suck up my oil and keep me from fouling his coastline even further.

And while Jindal continued to work for a living, BO expanded his carbon footprint, flying from Ohio back to DC to take in a ballgame at Nationals Park. At least he couldn't confuse it with "Comminsky Field." Thankfully no one asked him to throw out the first pitch.

All I can say is that when BO speaks of me on the unemployment line in 2013, he'd better not speak of me badly. I am his legacy.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and an oil spill runs through it.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

My Boss Goes Before the Small People

After his boss made so many friends the day before, my boss found some small people to meet today, Day 59 -- members of Congress. Yesterday the bosses met with even smaller people, the BO Regime. Naturally, all the small people had really big things to say. They're really good at making big talk.

Like yesterday, when BO puffed out his chest (yeah, I know, you need a microscope to tell) and called the $20 billion damage claims fund he extorted from BP a good start, saying he’d “continue to hold BP accountable.” That’s some ass kicking right there. At least you all weren’t too dumb to understand it.

BO never did mention whether he’d be adding any of the campaign donations BP gave him over the years to the pot, which will be managed by “independent, third-party” Kenneth FeinbergBO’s pay czar. Al Capone would be proud.

At today’s hearing before the House Energy and Commerce Committee, Tony Hayward, my bumbling boss, said he was sorry about me (everybody’s sorry about me; nobody loves me), but then he wasn’t very good at answering the many pointed questions from the small people. You can imagine the big talk he inspired.

Eliot Engel, a New York Dhimmicrat, peppered my boss with questions my boss said couldn’t be answered until BP completes its investigation into why I’m now an oil spill, then he had a hissy fit.

“Mr. Hayward, let me just say with all due respect: I, like everyone else here, and everyone else in America, [am] thoroughly disgusted. I think you're stalling, I think you're insulting our intelligence and I really resent it."

Bart Stupak, Douchebag-Mich, had some big talk too, asking my boss if he thought he’d be my boss for much longer: “We are not small people. But we wish to get our lives back. I’m sure you’ll get your life back, and with a golden parachute to England.”

Stupak didn’t mention the golden parachute he gets himself when he has to retire in December (because of this, you'll remember) from looting America serving in Congress. Higher office, the gift that keeps giving.

Henry Waxman, Douchebag-Cauli-for-nia, laid into my boss pretty heavily, too, flapping his donkey ears as he went along, the words seeming to bang against his teeth as they tumbled out: “There is not a single e-mail or document that shows you paid even the slightest attention to the dangers at this well.”

Waxman, naturally, didn’t say anything about the music nights, vacations, golf tours, and other distractions that kept BO from paying attention to me, too.

My boss should have mentioned that Stupak and Waxman love receiving political contributions from the oil and gas industry, along with every other member of the Energy and Commerce Committee. But he didn’t.

My boss should have mentioned that 5 of the top 10 recipients of BP lobbying money were sitting before him today on the committee: John D. Dingell (D-Mich.), Joe Barton (R-Tex.), Ralph M. Hall (R-Tex.), Roy Blunt (R-Mo.), and Fred Upton (R-Mich.). But he didn’t.

My boss should have mentioned that the reason BP was drilling so far out in deep water instead of in Anwar or along the shore or pulling oil from shale was because of the federal government. But he didn’t.

If he had, I bet all those big talkers up there on the energy committee would feel really small.

But that’s okay. Tony Hayward probably won’t be my boss for long, for good reason. BP probably won’t be around much longer to employ me, for good reason. And many of the small people sitting up there on their bully pulpits today will soon feel a lot smaller, once voters hold their little feet to the fire in November for their complicity in my big mess, among many, many others.

You can read more about what happened at today’s hearing here. I’m tired. I have to finish pumping the rest of my daily 1.5 million gallons because no one’s plugged my damn hole yet.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

I Am Still Kicking BO's Ass

There he was, in the glare of the spotlight, behind the great resolute desk (for a change, without his shoes propped up), delivering his first Oval Office speech, attempting to project a demeanor of calm and competence and leadership.

Except I couldn't help but think he looked like a cockroach dressed as a used car salesman desperate for a sale, trying to con the American people into thinking that he was kicking my ass, so he could skitter safely back into his crack in the wall after the camera went dark.

Now, I’m just a spill, I’m only a spill. My vision is somewhat distorted, what with some of me evaporating or being eaten by bacteria while the heavy, gloppy rest of me congeals in a sticky mess that slathers your shores with toxic waste that is harder to clean up than an Al Gore affair.

And yet, to me, BO looked as if he were a crack addict on a six-week binge selling a pipe dream, long past being able to seize control of all the oil I'm spewing into the Gulf but damned if he wasn't going to toss enough words out there and hope they made you forget about me. BO was angry about me, and the position in which I'd put him, but he was as helpless in front of that camera as a newborn with a soiled diaper. And, sitting behind that desk, he probably had one, too.

He even said it himself, his head barely poking out of my oily sheen: I don't know what caused this, I don't know how we're going to fix this, but we’ve got to do something.

Oh, sure, he took action: He hired an Oil Spill Czar, one former Justice Department official Michael Bromwich, a guy so qualified he has no significant experience with oil and gas issues, but OH! is he an ass kicker.

Yes, there BO was, on Day 57, showing decisive action, pledging to exhaust every idea, like suddenly embracing the Dutch offer to send skimmers to pick up my oil, after declining it way back when I started gushing, back when BO KNEW, just days after I was born, that I could be his Titanic.

Yes, there BO was, after nearly 2 months of disaster, giving the speech he should have delivered in April. There he was, telling you he would refuse to accept inaction, except when he has a tee time.

Not that BO doesn't have a plan. He’s going to plug my damn hole by completely ignoring me. To BO action means getting Congresscriminals off their duffs to finally deliver him a Cap-and-Tax bill he can be proud of.

I have to hand it to the Thinker in Chief, though … his plan really shows how you’ll tackle your dependence on foreign oil. I mean, with the moratorium on deep water drilling in the Gulf, the Bay of Rigs will suddenly become the Bay of Wind Turbines and Solar Panels and Efficient Cars and Homes. Meanwhile, investing your tax dollars in the development of clean energy technology will make all that oil slaking your coastline disappear before your very eyes!

After all, who needs those deep water oil rigs anyway? They can all move to Brazil, taking with them the 40,000 people who work on them, putting the hundreds of thousands of people back on the mainland who depend on them out of work. That’s a jobs jobs jobs bill right there, if I ever saw one.

To you, last night, BO was saying: “I don't have all the facts, but I think Oil Spill acted stupidly ... so I’m going to take advantage of this crisis to fulfill my destiny” … as America’s worst president ever.

Contrast BO’s words words words with Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal. While BO rolls up his sleeves to eat snowcones, Jindal, meanwhile, wades into the mud, building barrier islands to stop my flow from reaching precious estuaries, doing BO’s job for him, just like Jan Brewer.

Pretenders talk, leaders walk.

Yes, all I saw last night was a man shriveling inside a pressure cooker. His cheerleaders on MSNBC saw it too, retaliating with pouty recriminations from one guy who normally would murder his own mother to defend BO and another who used to get tingles upon hearing His voice.

They just couldn’t understand why BO hasn't been able to stand on the shores of the Gulf, lift his arms in the air, and summon all of his otherworldly powers to part my oil from His water.

That's because he can't. Even after he meets today with my boss and feigns kicking BP's ass, after all of the empty rhetoric, the fact remains that His response to me makes Bush's response to Katrina look, well, like people from NOLA think Bush did a far better job than Obama is doing.

And that isn't going to change because everything really comes down to this. Obviously, I am still kicking BO’s ass -- 1.5 million gallons at a time.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

BO Goes to the Beach and Eats ... Eats ... and Eats

THEODORE, ALABAMA -- Here's a photo a pelican showed me of BO posing Monday for a great photo op with SEIU workers, imported from Noo Yawk, on this otherwise deserted beach. Notice their pasty white skin. Also notice that BO's sleeves are rolled up for the work ahead -- devouring that biggie-size snowcone in his hand.

Later in the day, BO stopped in Gulfport, Mississipi, to reassure America that everything is just fine in the Gulf states, by gorging on shrimp and crawfish and crab. Everyone else in His entourage had to settle for McDonald's, but, in a twist of irony, their food actually may have been safer.

Through his ministry of propaganda, the press, BO then told Americans they had 48 hours to go to the nearest Gulf beach for a vacation ... OR ELSE! Then he retired to his hotel room so that TOTUS could upload tonight's speech about me into His brain. I'm sure his words will really kick my ass.

Monday, June 14, 2010

The Rhyme of the Ancient Oil Spill

Hour after hour, hour after hour,
I gush, with unquenchable devotion;
As idle BO takes golfing tours
Without care or sensible notion.

Oil, oil, everywhere,
And all the Regime did shrink;
Oil, oil, everywhere,
As their futures began to sink.

-- BO's OilSpillBlog

I'm getting really scared. BO had the Coast Guard send my employer a nasty letter over the weekend, telling BP they had 48 hours to pick up the pace of collecting my sludge ... OR ELSE! They didn't say what else is, of course, but I suspect it means BO is going to kick some ass. That's the BO Regime, always specific with the rhetoric.

I still don't know why the letter didn't begin with the words "let me be clear." After all, even more so than BP, the BO Regime is probably the world's most qualified group of experts ... in making a bad situation worse.

Then BO got really tough ... He compared me to September 11th, 2001. I felt so down after that one, I doubled production and worked on fracturing the Gulf sea bed beyond repair.

For the coup de grace, yesterday BO went golfing for 4 hours, continuing His incredibly unwavering display of steadfast leadership in this time of crisis for the communities around the Gulf.

When BO stops by to see me today, and has His great photo op for the week, I'll have to ask Him if He understands that I'm a hell of an albatross around His neck.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

I Am In COMPLETE Control

When BO and my employer, Tony "I'd Like my Life Back" Hayward, likely meet next week, they'll take turns chasing each other around the resolute desk, kicking each other's ass.

But first they'll compare their degrees from Narcissism University.

Which must be nice, thinking only about yourself. Here I am, spewing on Day 54 like a volcano and no one is in charge, no one is doing anything for the out-of-work fishing industry, no one is helping Louisiana and Mississippi and Alabama and, now, Florida, keep me from staining their beaches and ruining their tourism incomes, like I'm staining and ruining BO's presidency.

The talk goes on and on and on, just like me, but nothing gets done. Another month of this, and BO's approval rating will be Less than Zero, and my employer will be living out of a dumpster.

Sure, BO has talked to the experts, so he knows whose ass to kick, but, in true BO MO, He misrepresented what those experts said, so He could stop all off-shore drilling for the rest of the year.

That's life under the Disaster in Chief. The Gulf dies and the president lies. Maybe he can't suck me all up with a straw, but he sucks nonetheless. He's like the Energizer Bunny of suck ... He keeps sucking and sucking and sucking and ... . He sucks so badly He now has His own Captain Suck-Ass action figure. It comes complete with no balls.

I'll leave you with this, because I have work to do; keeping my boot on the throat of the Regime is a full-time job:
Responding to my last post, Guy Average wrote ... "I wish you had a chance to become refined, but since The Left does not like the appearance of oil rigs close enough to shore so that a spill could easily be contained, I guess you are just going to remain out of control."
He's spot on with the first part, but that last bit is dead wrong.

I am in control. Complete control.

UPDATE: Thanks to Doug Ross for the oil love, and a late thank you to King Shamus.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Entertainment Industry Takes Vacation (Away from the Gulf), Must Be on Retainer from BO

Sorry about skipping the blogging thing yesterday. I was busy making special tar balls shaped like BO's head (of course I included the oversized ears!) in anticipation of His upcoming two-day (Count. Them. TWO!) visit to the Gulf Coast next week. By then, I hope to be so far up into the Mississippi I fulfill Ray Nagin's dream of making NOLA a Chocolate City again.

It's a good thing I'm an oil spill destined to be everywhere, thanks to BO ignoring me for so long.

Speaking of ignoring, while scholars worry that BO admitting he'd like to kick some ass might make him look like the stereotypical “angry black” man (seriously, dood, the MSM went there), the venerable filthy rich mouthpieces of libtardom, the entertainment industry, curiously have little to say about me.

Surely by now I thought we'd have an I Pledge video circulating the innerwebz, with millions watching the glitterati stumble over their lines and flash computer-enhanced naked skin and jab used heroin needles into their arms and empty upturned bottles of Grey Goose over their heads in anguish over my man-caused disaster.

Admittedly, a few of the wretched have emerged from the sludge. Robert Redford did a stellar video, in which he actually, and favorably, posits that I'll teach America a lesson: Oil is EVIL! You should be ASHAMED! for gorging on me. Maybe everyone would all be better off slitting their wrists for being complicit in the biggest environmental disaster since the Statue of Liberty farted. (A very bizarre shrimp, who said he gets a strange feeling of floating through the universe every time he takes a little hit off me, swears that Redford uttered exactly those words.)

The other Hollywood critter with something to say is Kevin Costner. AHEM. You know, the guy who listens to voices in cornfields and dances with wolves. He claims to have invested $20 million of his own boringly earned money in a portable system that will separate oil from water, and that BP is listening. (Like the Titanic having lifeboats actually helped.) I can only hope it's as successful at kicking my ass, or plugging my damn hole, or whatever parlance the BO Regime is using for me these days, because the last I heard, Costner's only sea-dwelling venture, Waterworld, lost something like two legs, two arms, a left nut, and a brain for his movie company. You know, I always did think Costner casted better as a serial killer than a hero. I'm SURE his invention will be just as useful as the tampon with flexible duct-tape solution the far-less Hollyweird-connected Corral Project proposes.

I'd go into Spike Lee and James Cameron, but from what I can tell, they were just calling BO a moron.

So that leaves me to question the usual suspects.

Where's Sean Penn when people against oil spills need him? He must be in Osama bin Laden's cave, smoking hash laced with poppies, taking turns tag-teaming Osama's main squeeze, a goat named Sharrif.

Where's Alec Baldwin when people against oil spills need him? He must still be angry America re-elected Bush, still working on leaving the country. Or maybe he's busy wandering the streets of New York, cursing at building gargoyles, thinking he's berating his daughter and Kim Bassinger for ruining his funneh buzz, like a deranged Bowery Street stumblebum on model glue.

Where's Tom Cruise? He must still be in the closet on South Park, waiting for the mothership (with Louis Farrakhan, I hope), biding his time playing hide the salami with Mohammad.

Where's Bono? He must be getting drunk in his Doooblin pub with Bob Geldof, spending all the money they scammed from the G-8 aide to Africa on tar-ball shooters.

Or maybe they're just dithering and dawdling, between high colonics and heroin binges and Botox injections, biding their time until they get a White House invitation to sing Beatles songs with an aging hippie on stage with the President, while I bathe the coastline in my oily sheen and put people out of work during a time when Americans need jobs jobs jobs, instead of a pretender in office.

If I know BO, he's already offered them exactly the right Sestak.

UPDATE: A special thanks goes out to Maggie's Notebook and Lady Libertas and Transterrestrial Musings for loving oil spills.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

I'm Just a Spill

BO: OOF! You sure gotta climb a lot of steps to get to this Capitol Building here in Washington. I think I'll go golfing instead. But I wonder who that sad 700 gazillion barrel plume of black liquid is out there in the Gulf?

I'm just a spill.
Yes, I'm only a spill.
And I'm bearing down on Capitol Hill.
Well, it's a long, long way
Until BO can leave this morass.
It's a long, long wait
While He looks to kick someone's ass.
But I know I'll bring Him ruin someday
At least I hope and pray that I will,
But today I am still just a spill.

BO: Gee, Spill, you certainly have a lot of potential to tar-ball my presidency.

Spill: Well I got this far. When I started, I wasn't even a spill, I was just the second largest oil deposit in the world. Some folks back home decided they wanted gasoline in their cars and lights in their homes, but they didn't want it to come from their backyard, so they called their local Congressman and he said, "You're right, there oughta be a law to push drilling way off shore." Then they made my employer come find me. But there was an accident, and no one knew how to fix me because I was a mile under the sea. And I became a spill, and I'll remain a spill until your people decide to come for you because they know you haven't a clue about what you're doing.

I'm just a spill.
Yes, I'm only a spill.
And I'm bearing down on Capitol Hill.
Well, it's a long, long way
Until BO can leave this morass.
It's a long, long wait
While He looks to kick someone's ass.
But I know I'll bring Him ruin someday
At least I hope and pray that I will,
But today I am still just a spill.

BO: Listen to the American people arguing! Is all that discussion and debate about me?

Spill: Yeah, you're one of the unlucky ones. Most community organizers never even get a chance to look for crisis in opportunity ... but you don't even know what to do with it. In a way, I kinda hope they never find a way to cap me, so that someone might stand up and yell “You Lie!”

BO: Lie?

Spill: Yeah, as in YOU lie to the American people. You know, like when you said it was your responsibility to fix me, what, with all your geophysics qualifications. Oooh, but it looks like I'm gonna live! BP just put a soft cap on me and I'm still gushing like a volcano!

I'm just a spill.
Yes, I'm only a spill.
And I'm bearing down on Capitol Hill.
Well, it's a long, long way
Until BO can leave this morass.
It's a long, long wait
While He looks to kick someone's ass.
But I know I'll bring Him ruin someday
At least I hope and pray that I will,
But today I am still just a spill.

BO: You mean even if I bow to the whole world no one will take me seriously? My simply being great won't be enough to plug your damn hole?

SPILL: Yes, that's called a libtard. If the President is a libtard, he'll dither and dawdle and sing Beatles songs with an aging hippie while I bathe the coastline with my oily sheen and put people out of work during a time when your country needs jobs jobs jobs more than they need a pretender in office.

BO: By that time it's very likely you'll be sloshing at the door to my office. It's not easy to screw up a presidency, is it?

Spill: No!
But how I hope and I pray that I will,
But today I am still just a spill.

The people voted, Spill! Now you're a legend!

Spill: Oh yes!!!

UPDATE: Special thanks to Doug Ross and Weasel Zippers and The Reaganite Republican and NoisyRoom for showing the spill some love. Not everyone is looking for an ass to kick.

Monday, June 7, 2010

The Only Ass Getting Kicked Is BO's

A while back, a saying went around the BO Regime like whoever said it was reading from a teleprompter (tah dum): "In great crisis there is opportunity." (I know this because a couple smaller oil spills born before me told me about it.)

Remind me. What's the opportunity I present BO?

As far as I can tell, it's music night. BOs love for the gala, for the dramatic, for visits by the Jerry Seinfelds and the Paul McCartneys and the Kelly Clarksons is surpassed only by his passion for date night, or anything else the taxpayer gets to pay for ... in 274 years.

Or maybe it's oil-doused seaweed salad and tar ball pancakes with chemical dispersant syrup chased with a glass of my orangish sheen. At least that's what BO and his glitterati should be served during their galas, while the people who live on, and depend on, the Gulf of Mexico can't work.

Now, I know that BO has shut down drilling in the Gulf for six months (except for the relief well to plug my damn hole). And I know that BO has said I have provided the perfect opportunity for the Regime to Rahm through cap and slave legislation, so the people of America can have something else to riot about, unlike the Greeks.

Who am I to say what's what? Hey, I'm just an oil spill. My job is to spew. And I do a pretty damned good job of it if, after 49 days of gushing, BO's response to me is being rated worse than that Bush guy's response to Katrina.

I don't know. I wasn't around then. But I can tell you that it's June. Guess what starts in June? Ever had the worst environmental disaster on your hands, with no end in sight, during Hurricane Season, and a recession?

Yeah, baby! That's opportunity there!

For being a Dhummi.

And maybe that's why "angry BO" has been unleashed again, to let us know that he knows that we know that when he says he knows "whose ass to kick" -- it's just another way for him to say "let me be clear," or not.

But you and I both know that BO always looks for someone else to blame. And, in the end, people who don't accept their own responsibilities ... well, they're the ones who get their asses kicked -- quite hard.

UPDATE: Thanks to iOwnTheWorld and Nice Deb and Tammy Bruce and Soylent Green for their support. Just don't get oil on your hands, like BO.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

That's My BO, the Disaster in Chief

BO's propagandist, Mumbles Gibsy, has said -- just about as many times as he's uttered his favorite word, "umm" -- that the Regime has been on top of me from the beginning. I discovered this weekend that, for the very first time, the Regime is actually telling the truth: BO knew from the beginning how bad I could be.
The White House appears resigned to living with the BP oil spill for some time to come. But that’s not surprising—since President Obama and his team were briefed from the outset that the blowout at the Deepwater Horizons rig was epic in scope—and would not be fixable for a long, long time.

Carol Browner, director of the White House Office of Energy and Climate Change Policy, told Obama in late April that the blowout would likely lead to an unprecedented environmental disaster, a senior White House aide told The Daily Beast. Browner warned that capping a well at such depths had never been done before, and that they ought to expect an oil spill that would continue until a relief well was drilled in August, the aide said. (Browner’s office did not immediately reply to a request for comment).

That bleak prognosis, delivered so early on, has infused Obama’s senior team with a sense of fatalism about the spill from the start. Little that has happened since has changed their mindset. Now six weeks later, the president’s top advisers expect the oil spill – and the negative stories – to continue through August.
Strangely, you will no longer find paragraphs one and three of the above passage where it originally appeared Friday evening. Having intimately known BO for 48 days now (ewww ... that came out wrong), I can confidentially surmise that BO added making Richard Wolfe edit his post this weekend to the Regime's many diversions.

And the diversions are making me angry.

Here I work, tirelessly, day in, day out, for free, without sleep, to ruin his presidency and all he can do is decide to “live with me.”

He spends His idle time dithering away on vacations and date nights and stress relief on the golf course. When He does work, He blasts Wall Street and Arizona and makes racist political videos.

Meanwhile, the broken condom on my pipe captures only a fraction of the oil I'm gushing, and the Regime is suddenly telling everyone this morning that I will be the longest orgasm in history, lasting into the fall.

Which makes me think that all of BO's recent pomp and circumstance, about it being His job to fix me, about being angry with BP, is more TOTUS blather for the chattering class. What I'm really starting to understand is that He does want to be remembered as a one-term president.

But not as a "very good" one.

No, BO will be remembered for a title that "we are the ones we've been waiting for" never dreamed of receiving but apparently will live with, too, despite all the damage control and rhetoric and photo ops of BO rolling up His sleeves and picking pieces of His brain off the beach.

For it is becoming crystal clear now that history will remember my BO simply as the Disaster in Chief.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

I'm With James Cameron: BO Is a Moron

Forgive my absence yesterday, but I've been so busy ruining a presidency I hardly had time to blog. It's been a whirlwind, really. The BP robots finished my vasectomy, then put a broken condom on my pipe. BP seems to think they're going to capture most of me, but geophysicists are quietly saying I will eventually make Chernobyl look like a lightning strike. That's because I'm still gushing, and could be for years. If BO and BP had just asked, I could have told them that snip and cap will end up like Massachusetts electing Scott Brown to stop Obamacare. You can't stop me; you can only hope to contain me.

Meanwhile, that movie director, James Cameron, has been making some noise. First he says he offered to help BP fight me, only to be “graciously” refused. Then he called the people in charge of plugging my damn hole morons. Afterward, BO said this on Larry King's Still Alive! on Thursday -- “My job is to solve this problem.” I'm with Cameron: BO is a moron.

I'll give you the real scoop on Cameron's offer. An expert on underwater filming (last I checked my employer had a pretty good handle on this aspect of the crisis), Cameron offered to send three-dimensional horse-faced blue animations to the bottom of the Gulf, but BP didn't think it would help. Then he offered to buy a tanker of little blue pills to plug my damn hole. I'm really glad BP declined because, if you've seen any of the action on my web cam, my libido is still pretty powerful. Just think of the trouble BP would have on its hands right now for running the world's most popular porn cam.

So then, smart guy that he is, Cameron gave all the little blue pills to the Oval Office. I've since heard that in the past few days alone Larry Sinclair signed the White House guest register more times than Andy Stern. Cameron, instead, has decided to start production on his next movie, predictably about BO and me. It will be called Dereliction of Duty.

Not that BO isn't trying. He made another visit to Louisiana yesterday and rolled up his sleeves so he could make me all about him, shedding his visage of collected cool in crisis to declare in anger: “We'll keep on coming back until we have dealt with an unprecedented crisis.”

"We," of course, meaning "me." Him, always with the me, myself, and I.

Last I saw, BO was jetting off to Cauli-for-nia on Air Force One, where in-flight staff served him tar ball shots.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Now They're Trying to Give Me a Vasectomy

BP's experiment with castrating me resulted in the saw getting caught in my pipe, so you can imagine my relief now that they've made the more humane decision to proceed with vasectomy. But I now have a terrible rash. So does BO. He's so angry He dumped all His frustration over me on the GOP's economic policies yesterday in such a petulant outburst His psychiatrists are now starting to whisper that He appears to be regressing toward the womb.

He should have gone golfing instead.

I don't know why, since the Regime has been on top of me since the beginning, BO didn't just order BP to hire the Jigsaw Killer from the Saw movies. That dude makes an awesome cut. I know that's the stuff of horror movies, but did anyone really expect, when BO promised during his STFU speech to allow more drill baby drill!, that four months later I'd be the crisis He would use to stop all offshore drilling for the rest of the year? Sounds like a horror movie plot to me. Speaking of horror plots, some of my new readers think BP's inability to plug my damn hole is evidence BO's Regime should have even more control over the oil companies. You mean like when Democrats forced the oil companies to drill in deeper waters, where coaxing me to come out of the ground peacefully is much more tricky and expensive and dangerous, instead of continuing to let them drill baby drill! closer to the shore, where capping a leak is like diapering a baby?

Perhaps BO will set the record straight tonight when He badmouths me again during his appearance on CNN's Larry King's Still Alive! I don't know what sitting down to talk with Larry King is going to prove, though, except that maybe BO will realize He has a better haircut and could learn advice about dealing with paying alimony to 7 ex-wives. Not that BO has even known 7 women, let alone one, in that way.

All this trouble over little ole' me, and all it would take for me to plug my own damn hole is one tiny thing:

BO has to bow to me.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

I'm Waiting For Christmas Too

I keep waiting for the moment BO dashes from the White House and leaps into a phone booth amid a flash of blinding light then bursts back outside wearing His Superman suit and flies up up up into space and starts rocketing around the world faster than a speeding bullet again and again so Earth revolves backwards and He throws on his brakes and skids to a halt and kicks a satellite (Star Wars Defense, of course) and switches direction and flies around the world faster than a speeding bullet again and again so Earth starts spinning forward again and He swoops down from outer space and dives into the Gulf and plummets to the bottom and arrives just as the Deep Horizon explodes and sinks and He catches the falling pipeline and twists it into a giant pretzel He shoves into the seabed to plug my damned hole.

Maybe he's waiting for Christmas too.

Mr. President: Plug Your Own Damn Hole



The federal government hasn't a damned thing to do with shutting me down, and, frankly, if they did, they'd screw it up so badly I'd probably be much worse, no doubt fouling the Gulf, Atlantic, and Pacific simultaneously.

For the pResident to go around acting like a big shot, telling people to 'plug that damn hole,' is the ultimate in stoooopid. It's like he's trying to order the sun to shine harder. Frankly, he ought to plug his own damn hole. He'd instantly cool the planet by at least 10 degrees.

I would just like to be left alone.

If my employer hadn't given so much money to Obama over the past 20 years, maybe they would have been able to afford to hire the right people to keep me in the ground. Really, I'd much rather stay under the seabed where it's nice and comfortable. You think I wanted to be the latest number one priority that kept Obama from focusing on jobs jobs jobs?"

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to ruining a presidency.

But do check back in daily, while I keep my boot on the Regime's throat.