Warren Murphy

Morning, ladies and gentlemen….welcome to Nutcase Central.

Reports of my death have been slightly exaggerated.  Lafayette, I am still here.  And meanwhile thanks to those who kept dropping me notes wondering where I’ve been…but you don’t really want to know.

For those interested in business stuff, though, I’ve put my various book series on vacation for a while.  A lot of the books are still being sold on line or through Amazon and/or Kindle and e-books, but no new ones are scheduled for a bit.  Even the ongoing Destroyer adventures of Remo and Chiun are on the shelf.  That project however is still working its way through Hollywood and if the movie gets made — we’ll know this year — then, more than likely, the book series will be started up again.  If not, see you around.  I’ll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, for someone who’s washed up, I get a lot of mail asking me what I think about this and that.  Mostly I don’t think about this and that.  But some of what I do think about may come up below here, upon occasion.

Back in the middle of the last Ice Age, Congress began to investigate New York Rep. Charlie Rangel for “ethics” violations. The “ethics committee” — while some of its members are still alive — have finally decided to bring Charlie to justice, presumably by forcing him to pay his own cell phone bill. They’re going to hold hearings. So there, Rangel. Take that!
Meanwhile Charlie games the corruption system again, despite being in office during the most honestest and most transparentest and most ethicalest administation of all time. You can only imagine what would have happened to you if you had somehow failed to mention a half-million dollar checking account; or a condo on a Caribbean island, or four rent-controlled apartments in NYC that you were renting for spit, and taking bribes….oops, scratch that, I mean gifts…and if it were you, you could well imagine you’d be on your way to Leavenworth right now. But not Mister Charlie.
Lovely sidebar yesterday: Rangel was asked by a TV reporter if he would resign if found guilty and he snapped “Who are you with?,” fully expecting the reporter to say Fox News so Charlie could ahve launched into one of his right-wing-conspiracy diatribes. But when the reporter was identified as Luke Russert, Tim Russert’s son, working for MSNBC, Charlie was heart-sick and mumbled something about how it used to be a good station. Obviously, he had never heard of any of the NBC stations asking a corrupt Democratic hack a serious, legitimate news question.
But don’t worry about it; nothing’ll happen for the next four years, and Charlie will be reelected as King of the Fools year after year after year. Some things never change.

Hello, my friends, and here we are for the history lesson of the day. We are going back to the olden times of Chicago when it was an evil, corrupt city, where politicians and criminals ran roughshod over the populace and stole their money and got their wives appointed to sinecure jobs that they did nothing to earn. Well, we’re done with that, aren’t we?

After all, now we have the Chicago of President Box’o'Rocks, who is the most honestest, the most wonderfulest, the most uncorruptiblest, well, just simply the most and best of everything — (including the best author never to have written his own book, but more on that at a later date.)
anyway, in the old evil chicago of the past, this is what would have happened….some corrupt governor would have been indicted by some ambitious u.s. attorney who himself wanted to become governor; so the governor would start talking up a blue streak, about how he was going to testify about what he knew and call as witnesses the president and all the president’s men and all the president’s women and pretty soon at 1600 pennslyvania avenue, they started to get antsy because this nitwit governor of illinois knew where the bodies were buried and nobody wanted to ehar anybody tetify about it… so guess what….in this lunatic land in illinois, long ago and far away, the governor decides not to testify; the judge decides to send him away for just a little bit; the white house manages to escape embarrassment by not having all its criminal thugs being cross-examined under oath, and — wow, what a surprise — suddenly one u.s. attorney is going to be supported for the governor’s seat and, if that doesn’t work, he is going to be nominated for the next post on the federal judicial bench.
but of course, this is all a fairy-tale, from back in the day when chicago wasn’t the nicest, bestest, most honorablest, city in the united states because it was the home field for PRESIDENT BOX’O'ROCKS OBAMA, all hail his glorious name.
pardon me while i retch.

In Australia, the land of dwarf-tossing where most people don’t get upset about too much, the powers-that-be at an Aussie film festival have decided to ban the first “necrophiliac, gay zombie, hardcore porn” film. At last report, the film’s director Bruce LaBruce is simply shattered. (You can look it up.)

Three cheers for Jesse Jackson.
He is absolutely right that Dan Gilbert, who regards himself as the slavemaster of the Cleveland Cavaliers, was way out of line in his attack on Lebron James for “daring” to leave the city and sign a contract with some other team. There must be something about the game of basketball that makes team owners nuts…witness Mark Cuban from the Dallas Mavericks. But that’s another story. This story is the Rev. Jackson quite correctly nailing that noisy Cleveland blowhard. Right on, Rev.

I think we should take up a collection to buy a set of crayons for her so that Lindsay Low-rent can amuse herself during her few weeks in jail.

The idiot now running NASA said the agency has been charged with the responsiblity by President Box’o'Rocks to do Muslim outreach and make Muslims feel good about their contributions to science. And that would be, in the last thousand years, exactly what….?

Janet No-Brain-itano has just changed what is laughingly called her mind and said that fed employes once again are allowed to listen to controversial opinions — including those that suggest this woman should be put away in a place with a rubber room.

Somebody tell me this isn’t true — that the Justice Department agreed to drop the polling place charges against the New Black Panthers — (even stupider than the old Black Panthers) — when one of them promised…(I swear to God I read this in two places)…”not to carry a deadly weapon near a polling place until 2012.” Maybe that IS right. Who says we’ll still be using polling places after 2012?

How absolutely great is this? The San Francisco health department
has issued rules for how marijuana brownies must be baked. And bakers are warned to be sure to put on the label whether the brownies have any nuts in them, because ingesting nuts could be dangerous.

It was really said in Greek, but the Romans swiped it into Latin. “Speak nothing but well of the dead.” All right, here goes.
Sen. Robert Byrd of Virginia is dead. For the last two decades, while he was a predictable party line vote for the Democrats, the mainstream media ignored his history and made him sound like a cross between Thomas Jefferson and Thomas Aquinas.
Fair enough but in some of the Senator’s own words, a few choice items to round out the loving picture the mainstreams paint.
Byrd said he joined the Ku Klux Klan mostly to promote his own political ambitions, but he wrote later — years after allegedly leaving the Klan — that the KKK was needed more than ever to prevent “this beloved land of ours from becoming degraded by race mongrels.”
This “champion of the people” filibustered for 14 hours against the 1964 Civil Rights act and voted against it, although it finally passed, thanks to Republicans.
And there was more and more and more to Senator Byrd’s record but, as he would say, fie, fie, fie. Who cares? And indeed who does?
Goodbye Senator Byrd. May you rest in the peace that your opportunistic racist hack political career so long denied to so many of us.

It’s true that there was a hemidemisemiquaver of interest in the World Cup as long as the USA was playing but now that they’ve lost to a team, all of whose members kept blowing their noses on their shirts, it is time to relegate soccer to the ashbin of sports history.
Final note: soccer will never fly in our America. Most of us find totally disgusting a game whose biggest strategic innovation is to see which team’s players can trip over their own stupid feet and fall down, then pretend to have been tripped and to be near death until the referee decides to take a goldenrod yellow card out of his pocket, at which moment said players make a miraculous recovery, jump to their feet, dancing and singing. Meanwhile the clock keeps running through all this downtime and none of the official mopes involved have any idea how to speed the game up and keep it fair.
Also, it is a historical fact that any team which is behind two goals to zero has no chance — nada, none — of winning a World Cup game. Who wants to watch an alleged sporting contest in which the result is therefore pre-ordained?
The only thing that made World Cups momentarily watchable in the past was Luciano Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma. But the maestro is gone and this year we were stuck watching Bubba hanging out with Mick Jagger.
Game over.

The press is remorseless. Not satisfied with collaborating in the destruction of America by non-stop cheering for Box’o'Rocks piling on of debt, the insane spending, more taxes, destruction of the medical system, epidemic incompetence, Eric Holder, Janet No-brain-itano, kowtowing to thugs, apologizing for America….
you’d almost think that was enough to label the press the enemy. But this latest is even worse. They have now decided to dust off all those stories they’ve run periodically over the last generation, telling us how the game of soccer is finally ready to capture and intrigue all of America’s sports fans. How many times do we have to put up with this? Especially since it never happens.
Attention press! The United States speaking! We hate soccer. We will always hate soccer. The greatest thing about the world cup are those stupid horns that make it impossible to hear the announcers, whom you couldn’t understand anyway. As soon as the world cup is over, we will forget about it. We hate the game. Nobody in America wants to watch seven European dwarfs kick a ball back and forth for ninety minutes and then if someone on the other team should happen to fall down, there’s a goal and, wow, Malariaville beats Stupidstan by the rousing score of 1-0. (Or 1-nil as we euro-trash wannabes like to say.) I’d rather watch paint dry. So would anybody else who likes sports. Dear press, leave us alone.

hi, guys, i’m going to make changes in the format of this
blog pretty soon. so i’ll keep you posted. sorry for the delay….(anybody got a spare hip they’re not using?)
warren