Mix'd Bag

Con-gress | Not Pro-gress

2 Comments 14 | October | 2013

Here it is the middle of October and I’m just sitting on my ass, doing nothing.  What am I….Congress?!  I’m just a lowly citizen, not elected for any highfalutin position of “leadership”.   My self-imposed “job” is to make music mixes.  Those dickbags in Washington…they ARE elected.  They ARE supposed to be leaders.  It IS their job to affect policy.  Instead they mimic two-year olds, throwing the tantrum of a lifetime because mom and dad won’t buy them the MEGA-Family Pack of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs.  They have simultaneously collapsed to the (House) floor writhing, shrieking and gasping for air, as if their precious Sugar Bombs are the keystone to life on planet Earth.

IF WE DON’T GET OUR BELOVED CEREAL THEN LIFE AS WE KNOW IT WILL CEASE!!  The economy will slow.  Global markets will collapse.  Ice caps will melt.  North Korea will become a world power.  Guns will require leashes.  McRib will perish.  Gravity will quit.  KITTENS. WILL. DIE.

Then our “noble” congressmen and women point across the aisle and claim loudly, these are the people who are killing kittens. “How can they live with themselves?!  Monsters!!  All of them.”  And while all of this finger-pointing continues, with no end in sight, my wife and I have this to say to Congress.

Bitches – our kitten IS dying, but not because of your Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bomb bill.  Our kitten is dying because our kitten believes in America.  Our kitten is a proud kitten.  She wakes up each morning at 3am and runs around the bedroom like a banshee for no fucking reason other than she’s damn proud to be an American (at least this is the most logical explanation we can come up with).  When our kitten sleeps she envisions a land where she can plop down right in front of us during dinner and clean her butthole until the cows come home….happy AMERICAN cows.  She believes in the idea that it is her GOD-GIVEN RIGHT to poop in the litter box within seconds of of my wife cleaning it.


Not my cat.

Congress, when you fritter away our time and dollars arguing over who gets the shitty prize at the bottom of the cereal box, our kitten’s heart grows cold and callous.  While you’re throwing fits, holding your breath until you’re blue in the face, our kitten is losing faith in America…her America…OUR America.  She takes our her frustration on the furniture instead of her scratching pole, no matter how much catnip we spread at the base.  She hisses at images of Bob Costas….unimaginable.  She ignores the laser pointer.  ARE YOU FUCKING LISTENING TO ME?!  She Ignores The Laser Pointer!!

Members of Congress, it is YOU….ALL OF YOU….who are killing our kitten.  Please stop being that grocery store cry-baby.  You’re putting the American people in a terrible spot.  Your hysterics have the full attention of everyone else in the grocery store (i.e. the world).  We, the American people, are the embarrassed parents trapped in the cereal aisle, fully aware that E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E is standing, staring and judging.  We begin to shrink as the comments mount.

“Wow, do they really let their child act like that in public?”

“Who runs this show, the kid or the parents?”

“Maybe they’re not cut out for democracy.”

Meanwhile, We the People would like to collectively spank. the. shit. out. of. you, but instead we endure your shenanigans while imploring you to come to your senses.  We want to prove that we are capable of proper parenting.  We brought you into this world (i.e. we voted for you), we will see to it that you behave in a manner fit to call you our own.

So knock it off with your pissing and moaning and let’s get back to shopping because if we can’t fill our grocery carts with items to nourish ourselves and our kittens, none of us will be chasing laser pointers.  Congressmen, I encourage you to take a long look in the mirror (after removing your heads from your b-holes) and after you’re done thinking, “my, you’re a handsome devil”, remind yourselves what you are supposed to be doing for the people, and quit what you are currently doing to the people.


Also not my cat.

But don’t do it for me.  Don’t do it for yourselves (you pompous pricks).  Do it for our kitten.  Pull yourself up from the floor, dust yourselves off, and give us a reason to believe in you.  Give us a reason to wave our flags again and we will….because kittens can’t, they don’t have thumbs.

Get to work.  Forget the Sugar Bombs (and the real ones).  Restore our faith in your ability to perform your duties.  When you’ve actually succeeded in moving America forward then we will talk about your precious breakfast cereal.

Me, My Wife, and Moe the kitten

San Diego Shows


© 2020 Long | Distance | Drunk. Powered by Wordpress. Login

Daily Edition Theme by WooThemes - Premium Wordpress Themes