Say Yay to Rapture Day!

You've been warned by the vans, billboards and radio announcements. When it's the hand of God, opportunity knocks in a big way.

                                                                                                       

Q. What will you be doing this Saturday during the Apocalypse? -- Baffled in Biloxi

BP: Forget Saturday. Sunday will be the really awesome day. Here's why...We already know what will happen on the first day of the End Times. Thanks to the prediction of Oakland minister, Harold Camping, "It will start with a huge earthquake in New Zealand that's going to make the earthquake in Japan look like a Sunday school picnic."

From Hobbit Land to Dollywood, earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, raging continental fires and presumably any locusts that haven't fried or drown will make our lives even worse than Wall Street did. Hard to imagine but that's what Minister Camping predicts based on three-decade mathematical calculations involving dates of biblical floods, symbolic numbers in the bible, multiplication, addition, subtraction and a pi-square added for irrefutable numeric heft. Could he be wrong? Doubt it. The man has a degree in Civil Engineering from UC Berkeley. Compared to him, the rest of us are operating at a feeble 1st grade math level.

Plus, there's the whole gay-people-caused-it thing. "Whole nations no longer consider it (homosexuality) a sin, even though it is a sin," Camping said. "It fits into place now—God has orchestrated this to indicate we are right at the end. We are at the threshold of being destroyed by fire and brimstone.” Makes perfect sense. Thank you, God, for finally bringing us around to accepting gay friends so you could destroy our earth-circling group hug in a ball of fire.

Mr. Camping's revelation misses the great opportunity of the Sunday after Armageddon. You know what I'm talking about—that business you've always wanted to start. No gray corporate cubicle or red tape to tie you down. No endless meetings boring you to tears. No inept manager stealing your innovative ideas. It's just you, all about you, and the once-in-a-end-of lifetime opportunity to cash in on the ultimate disaster. Worked for Blackwater, Goldman Sacks, Exxon and GE. Your time has kingdom come.

If you're not among the chosen 200 million true believers swept up to heaven this Saturday at cocktail hour, and one of the 7 billion left behind, I predict these entrepreneurial Apocalypse ideas will make you loaded beyond your imagining (for 5 months until the final meltdown and unavoidable descent to hell):

Left Behind Alert Kit: Angel costume, "You Forgot Me!" neon sign, supercharged exploding-star flare gun with vertical 50,000 ft. blast range.

King James Bible 6-Pack: Perfect for a family of four seeking prayer and redemption, plus extra copies for the nice in-laws.

Act-of-God Fire and Flood Insurance: State burned down? Nation at bottom of sea? We pay--no questions asked so help us god.

Club In A Bullet-Proof Box: While Rome NY burns, dance and drink the night away with friends in this portable rock 'n rave fortress. No one gets hurt—until you wake up on the floor tomorrow with a raging tequila hangover and a thong stuffed in your pie hole.

How To Become An Instant Believer: Allah, Buddha and lesser gods be gone in this 24 hour true Christian believer immersion experience. It's never too late to say I'm stupid and made poor religious choices.

Prepped for Hell: 50% off when you also register for "Instant Believer". Course includes your choice of fire extinguisher or sub-zero thermal blanket, pitchfork or stripper pole, and 100 pack of "Thank You" or "Water please" greeting cards.

Hurry. Only two shopping days left before the end of the world as we know it.

Farmer Bob Falls To Mad Cow Men Disease

Q. While Washington fiddles around, millions of people can't afford to go see a doctor. What's your solution to the healthcare crisis? -- Sick and tired in the Tetons

BPA. Good question. I have no idea. I can tell you that out here in the heartland, nobody's immune to bad awful sickness and many hard-working folks can't afford insurance.  Sad thing. Especially for folks suffering from life-altering diseases they don't even know they have.

One that's spread, invisible like, from the City to even off-the-grid places is a nasty mental disorder I call Mad Cow Men Disease. Caused by extreme exposure to media, MCMD re-configures the brain to create the false sense that one is a marketing genius. 

Nowadays, just about everybody thinks they come up with the next big idea and how to advertise it. You know what I'm talking about. How else would anybody in their right mind come up with the Slanket?

The disease doesn't care who you are or where you live. Proof: Farmer Bob's DIY hay selling signs on County Road 63. He's so far gone, he doesn't realize he ripped off the Got Milk campaign. Thinks it was all his idea. Doesn't even know he needs medical help, so he'll never seek it. If we can spread more diseases folks don't know they have, maybe that'd solve the healthcare crisis.

Hope that answers your question.

Backboneless chicken farm: Throw the cluckers out!

On my prairie walk today, I got to thinking: What's driving America into the pit? The better question I ASKED MYSELF is "Who" is shredding our economy, environment, healthcare system, education system, safety net and justice system? 

Corporate fat cats gorging on tax loopholes? Billionaires stashing cash in Swiss bank accounts out of the taxman's reach in an historic moment of record deficits and program cutbacks? Chronic slackers working the unemployment and Medicare systems at the expense of hard-working neighbors who've fallen on hard times for the first time in their lives?

I found the answer, of all places, scratching around in the dark shade of an old weather-beaten cherry-red barn. Chickens.  Clucking chickens.

Remember the Gary Larson cartoon "Boneless Chicken Farm"?  Sagging chickens stretched out flat as pancakes in the barnyard. No backbones to hold them up. In other words, "congress."  A self-serving legis-fighting body of backboneless chickens. Great if you're frying up a nice Sunday dinner. Catastrophic if everything you've worked for is being eaten away by backstabbing, posturing, get-re-elected-at-all-costs, me-first-and-to-hell-with-my-ignorant-constituents chickens. No, congress isn't the only group that needs fixing. But when they're bought by and beholdin to business, they're where the whole mess starts.

Today's congressional chickens have neither the will nor the backbone to stand up for "we." 

WE WHO pay our taxes and fret over every deduction line. 

WE WHO hold down three part-time jobs to feed our families. 

WE WHO comb Craig's List every day for a job--any job to help us fend off the foreclosure man. 

WE WHO live on mac and cheese six days a week and the cheapest excuse for meat in the grocery case for a treat on the seventh day. 

WE WHO live paycheck to paycheck and can't get out from underneath the outrageous credit card penalties imposed on us because we missed one measly payment. 

WE WHO fall between the cracks and can't afford to see a doctor because we're above the national poverty level ($1,837.50/month for a household of 4) which is total bull when that's the better part of your entire rent payment for a two bedroom slum house in a crime-ridden city neighborhood.

WE WHO live in our cars, wash in a Denny's bathroom, tell our friends they can't come over to play after school--because there's no TV, no snacks and no backyard in the back seat of our 200,000 mile beater we can't afford to gas up because Mid East revolutions are the latest excuse for jacking prices to a point that jacks the tax relief we would have spent to make life a little more tolerable.

We can't allow the elected house of backboneless chickens rule the roost this way anymore.  It's time to replace the cluckers with real representatives committed to exactly that--representing the common interests and needs of We The People, not the special interests of pay-to-play lobbyists, defense contractors, big oil, pharmaceutical companies, insurance corporations and Wall Street bankers who hi-jacked our financial future.  We're better than that. We're bigger than them. We're outraged.  

We will no longer tolerate elected officials who are the agents of interests as hostile to the American people as an invading army could be.

 

The first step to taking our country back is a Congressional Reform Act that begins a new era of congressional representation, oversight and accountability...and 86s The Senators from Chevron Oil, Pfizer, Bank of America and Goldman Sacks.

The facts speak for themselves

• Over the past five years, the number of Washington lobbyists (35,000) and their annual campaign contributions ($2.3 billion) has doubled.

• The health insurance industry alone has 6 lobbyists for every member of congress--more than 500 are former congressional staff members with good 'ol boy influence.

• Insurance companies spent $380 million on Capitol Hill in just the first 3 months of 2011 to ensure that the uninsured buy for-profit policies from them. $1.5 million of that went to Healthcare Legislation Committee Chairman Senator Max Baucus of Montana. $1.5 million!

•  A landmark 2010 Supreme Court ruling reversed decades of law restricting corporations and unions from spending unlimited funds on ads supporting or opposing candidates (meaning unbridled influence over the election process, and hence, the elected representatives who vote on legislation affecting those same corporations.)

So, what can WE do? The same thing we've done TOGETHER for more than 200 years. 

Unite as a nation of We The People to demand change.

http://www.whitehouse.gov/contact 

Ask whoever you can to storm the Whitehouse with emails asking President Obama to reignite his May 2010 push to reform of congress. We ask only two things:

1. Make it illegal for anyone in congress to accept any goods, services or financial contributions from any non-governmental organization

2. Change congressional pay and benefits to be representative of what the American people earn, meaning: Salary increase based on the consumer price index--not a pay increase vote; Salary (currently $174,000--anybody out there interested?) ends when they are out of office; No pension other than what they contribute to their own retirement fund; Must participate in Social Security like the rest of us; No special healthcare coverage--they must select from the same healthcare providers as the American people. 

That will weed out the cluckers and encourage true citizen-representatives to replace them. It's not a silver bullet. It won't fix everything. But it's a start. 

The Milk Dude Is A Lady

Q. I walked across 5th Avenue this morning and was almost run over by some crazed tennis mom driving a black Lincoln Navigator. The bitch's brat daughter--maybe 8 years old if that--rolled down her window and flipped me off. Fuck it. I can't take living in this insane city one more day. What's it like living in small town Colorado? -- Getting old in NY

BPA.  Glad you asked. And if you ever see that bitch again, two words: Nail gun. Now about your question. Some people say, "Don't live in the past." Seems we have no choice here in Longmont. It's probably a plot by the City Council to keep things just the way they are, and—in fact—always have been, since the days when small farm boys sat mesmerized by the Navajo Chief test pattern on their snowy black and white TV. 

My milk lady can kick your tennis mom's ass.

They let you keep chickens in your yard in Longmont. In its wisdom, The City recently upped the per household limit of the noisy cluckers from 2 to 12. I wouldn't be shocked to learn that they did this to make sure every house is entitled to receive the recommended daily allotment of a dozen eggs.

Longmont may also hold the world record for the number and variety of parades per year. Memorial Day. 4th of July. You'd expect those. Not far enough for Longmont. How about a Main Street Halloween Parade that  looks like an entire mental hospital of clowns broke out and took over the town? Or a Holiday Light Parade, complete with parachuting Santas? Yes. There are people here who spend their entire year planning their one special parade. But you can always put in less time if you're one of the impulsive types who throw together a spontaneous parade. When the fires struck Boulder last summer, it only took a week to throw together a 3 hour fire-safety parade, complete with every spare fire truck in the county (that wasn't at the fire) built between 1898 and 2010; a pass-the-bucket water brigade competition to put out a controlled burn in the town square park; and my personal favorite: the firemen's demonstration of how to extract a bloodied crash dummy man and wife from a crushed Chevy Blazer with the jaws of life. Kids loved that.

In Longmont, you never know who will come knocking at your door. Grade school kids in snow outfits offering to shovel your sidewalk for a measly five bucks. The bear-like UPS man wearing shorts and a short-sleeve shirt in a  below-zero morning when ordinary human beings would have frozen stiff as an ice sculpture in mid-stride somewhere between the curb and the porch. The "meat man." Yes sir, he's got fresh grass-fed beef cuts and just-shot-skinned-and-cleavered deer steaks right there in his truck.

Of course, Longmont also has high-speed Internet, Home Depot, three craft breweries, a craft whiskey distillery, dozens of good restauarants and all the modern conveniences. But just when you start to think you're living in 2011, look who else shows up at your door. Say hi to the milk lady. And by the way, she could take out that tennis mom for you with one homogenized jug 'o swingin' hurt.