Skip to main content

Let Those Old Republican SOB's Fillibuster

It looks like Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid has locked up the 60 votes he needs to end a Republican filibuster.

I say, let those old Republican SOB's filibuster. Just for the hell of it.

I'm not saying give up the 60 votes. I'm not saying that we shouldn't move forward with what's left of the health care bill. I'm less than thrilled that the public option will probably disappear from whatever bill emerges from the conference committee. But I'd rather see health care legislation enacted and possibly amended in the future than no health care legislation at all. I guess I'm a realist.

But I think this whole filibuster threat is one that is beyond the physical means of the Republican senators to carry out. Just look at their ages -- most of those old farts are in their 60's and 70's. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm in my 40's and my eyesight, back, and bladder aren't nearly what they used to be twenty years ago. I don't even want to imagine how those old farts are going to attempt to occupy a podium and speak into the wee hours of the night until they piss and crap on themselves.

But I sure would like to see them try. I don't think they have the balls -- even the gray-haired or bald balls -- to carry it off. If they feel that strongly about opposing health care, I say, let them stock up on Depends and handle their business. I say wear them down like Nolan Richardson's University of Arkansas basketball team used to wear down their opponents -- but this is going to be far more arduous than "40 minutes of hell" given their ages.

I'm about tired of these Senator Republicans. Go ahead -- let them filibuster. I want to see them piss and crap themselves.

Go ahead, Senate Republicans. In the name of that great civil rights obstructionist and secret lover of black women, Senator Strom Thurmond, I double-dog dare ya.


Popular posts from this blog

When You Leave The Ghetto, Don't Bring It With You

NBA player Gilbert Arenas brings a gun to an NBA locker room. NBA player Ron Artest lets his pit bulls run wild and free in Loomis, California while playing for the Sacramento Kings. NFL player Michael Vick did time for fighting dogs. And NFL player Plaxico Burress is doing time for shooting his damn self.

What do all these men have in common? BMNB would say an inability to make a profound paradigm shift. I’m less eloquent than BMNB is, so I’ll say it differently: The inability to leave the ghetto behind.

Yes, call me saditty, bourgie, elitist, stuck-up, whatever. I don’t care. Until you’ve had a tweaker ruin your Thanksgiving turkey, you don’t even know (more on that later), and I’m not trying to hear you.

Living in Western Placer County, my husband and I continue to hear stories from folks like us who had to flee “those who can’t leave the ghetto behind.” You know these people, and they come in all races. In our case, we had returned to Sacramento in 2004 and 2005, respective…

Black Woman Blogging's Gun Control Proposal

Thanks to a relative who sent me death threats, I became a gun owner. Reluctantly.  What can I say.  You don't choose your family.

That said, I'm for gun control.

As far as I'm concerned, America lost its moral compass when we didn't do squat after Sandy Hook.  If you can allow a madman to murder children and not be moved to do nothing, you have no moral compass.  Period.

Now that we've broken an unfortunate record for the number of people killed in a mass shooting, perhaps we as a country are ready to get our minds right about gun control.  Perhaps.  So in that spirit, I offer my gun control proposal.

First, we need to agree on some real (not alternative) facts and principles:

1.  There is no such thing as an unlimited right.  Yes, people, there are no unlimited rights protected under the Constitution.  Your right to free speech?  Well, not all speech is protected under the First Amendment and even protected speech can be limited by time, place and manner.  Your…

Retired Man Walking: Too Young to Retire, Too Old to Take Shit

A while back I ran into a friend and fellow professional employed by the State of California, and he offered me his perspective on State employment as a tail-end Baby Boomer like myself -- someone who can't retire because he lacks the requisite age or years of service, but, unlike myself, is tired of taking shit from superiors who don't know what to do with you.

Although my friend gave his permission for me to use his name in this blog entry, I decline to do so because what he does is so specialized that it would not be hard for anyone to identify him as one of the few African American men, if not the only African-American man, in California state civil service who does what he does. For purposes of this blog entry, I will refer to him as he now refers to himself:  Retired Man Walking.

Retired Man Walking, or RMW, has an interesting philosophy he applies to working for the State as a professional who isn't old enough to retire but has been around long enough to know the s…