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.