Political Humor

I couldn’t think of anything funny to say for today’s post. So…

Political humor pictures are best when passed around. Please just give us a link back to this page.

Thanks to JumpOut for the minefield clearing idea.

Air Pelosi

Nancy Pelosi has come under fire recently for traveling around in a Air Force G5 or larger aircraft, on her frequent flights between Washington DC and San Francisco Calif. The truth is that she didn’t actually use those aircraft. Well, she did once in a while, but only because the Air Force didn’t have a smaller plane available. It seems the request were made for the larger ones, she just wasn’t the one who made them. It was her staff.

It’s called plausible denialability. And Obama didn’t know what Geithner was up to either.

Yeah I know. I really liked the idea of her acting like the Wicked Bitch of the West, flying off the broom handle, abusing her power and arrogantly wasting the taxpayer’s dollars. To be fair, she’s only squandering and not outright wasting our money.

She generally flies for free in an Air Force C20, which is a Gulfstream III. This is the same plane Denny Hastert used. It only cost $900 an hour instead of the $22,000 for the larger craft. Makes it seem down right reasonable, doesn’t it?

The Speaker of the House averages 31, 11 hour round trip flights per year. These only cost us about 3.1 million. Not exactly free. This doesn’t cover the currently, unknown cost all those last minute canceled flights.

It seems Nancy likes to block out every weekend just in case she want to take a little plane flight with her family and friends. Then she waits until the last minute to cancel.

It’s really nice of her to be so thoughtful as to cancel. At least the pilots, air and ground crews can salvage some of their weekend.

Then we have all the other Congressional use of free Air Force planes. A few million more here and there. A mere pittance compared to, let’s say, I don’t know… maybe 9.3 trillion dollars!

It’s a start. I mean, if we’re going to go to any expense to retrieve $165 million, then it stands to reason we should be looking into any savings we can. It’s that line by line thing we heard about up until sometime last November.

They All Fall Down

The reason we foot the bill for these frequent flyers, is in response to the incident that happen in New York a few years ago, when some buildings fell down after being very bad indeed and needed to be brought to the ground. It seems a five sided building was naughty too and maybe some white house.

Since we no longer have enemy combatants or a War on Terror, I wasn’t sure if we could still talk about, hush… 9/11. If that term is now verboten and you’re offended, then I’m oh, so very sorry.

The Air Force was asked to keep some public officials safe -from certain, now unspecified people, who might find it necessary to fight for their freedom near these officials- by flying them around for free.

Still, the thought of those of us who can’t afford even a measly G3, fronting the cash so Nancy can go home almost every weekend, doesn’t sit very well. What it all comes down to is propriety.

The now defunct Trans American Airlines, better know as TWA, was hijacked so often by Middle Eastern types, it was widely referred to as Travel With Arabs.

So at some point in time this program was valid. But since the offensive terms have now been dropped by this administration, and with all the overtures made toward that part of the world, I’m sure they’re no longer angry at us.  We don’t need this service any longer.

As many of you know, I spend 20 years in the Army. I was stationed all across the southern portion of our country, Germany, Korea and Alaska. If I wanted to go home, I had to wait for leave and then get myself there on my own dime. That’s fine, I chose that profession and knew what I was getting into.

I’d like to believe the members of Congress, et al, knew that too. I could be wrong.

Now I’m not heartless. I want to see our hardworking civil servants get a chance to go home. I just don’t want them to fly for free.

Ridin’ The Rails

The National Railroad Passenger Corporation is a wholly government owned company. That’s right Big Brother owns an evil, Big Corporation. They operate AMTRAK. Joe Biden loves AMTRAK. He says it’s a “national treasure”.

We have dumped billions of dollars into this “treasure” and haven’t seen a red cent in return. But these railroad guys are smart. They got the system figured out. You see, they really don’t owe anything because they just pay the last “loan” off with the next one. As long as the money keeps coming in for your pockets to theirs, they’re in the clear.

Now Uncle Sam Joe wants another, paltry 1.3 billion for his beloved choo choo trains. Joe has been riding the train home for years. I think that’s wonderful. And if it’s good enough for the Veep to ride, then it’s good enough for Congress.

Now I’m sure we could get a group rate, but a monthly pass currently cost $579 a person. Multiply that by 100 in the Senate and 435 in the House and you get about 3.7 million per year in rail passes. Remember Pelosi spends over 3.1 million a year all on her own. We could save a bundle.

My question for you is, should we ride them out of town on a rail, or tell them to take a flying leap?

Les James has a humor blog, but he hasn’t been posting lately. So don’t waste your time.

Because Fiar asked for it…

Thanks to the guys at South Park for never being Politically Correct.

This week our very own Cajun Cop, JumpOut, tazers the whacked-out world of Mild Max.  Next week Elm lends her talents to this ongoing political satire novel.

Chapter5: Escape from the Kill Zone

Seeing no immediate danger above ground, I cautiously eased myself out of the sewer. I turned back to give my new pistol wielding lady friend a hand up. I’m nothing if not a gentleman. Immediately a terrified look
surfaced on her tough, yet feminine face. She screamed and was yanked back into the darkness of the sewer.

“Holy shit!” I said out loud, as if someone would hear me. A flash of questions hit me momentarily. Who was this chick? What did she want with me? Why shouldn’t I leave her to whoever or whatever just caused us to prematurely part company? Okay, so I’m nothing.

Well, the only way to find out the answers to these questions would be to follow her into the blackness. I wasn’t doing anything at the time, and this was the first broad I had seen in a while that I might be interested in rolling around naked with. What the hell, right?

With my mind made up, and set on violence, I reached into one of my jacket pockets. I keep a couple of flashbangs for emergencies, and this seemed a grand occasion to burn one.

I banged the hole (sorry but these are the kind of bad internal puns that surface when you’ve worked too long in a city where flitters do all manner of distasteful things in public, but will publicly behead you if you dare utter a joke that offends them). I made sure there was a round chambered in my boomstick, and entered the -suddenly and
briefly illuminated- sewer.

When I jumped down into the sewer, I took a quick look around in the quickly dying light of the spent bang. I could see in the distance a figure lying on the dank sewer floor and my damsel in distress running back toward me.

When she reached me, I fired a round down the tunnel where she came from in hopes of slowing down any possible pursuers. I helped her up to the surface, and moved the manhole cover back into place.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“No thanks to you, you freakin’ moron! I told you to shut the fuck up!” She shouted.

“I just saved your shapely ass! A little gratitude would be nice.”

“Saved me? You think your flashbang saved me? I’ll have you know that I can take care of myself, and that it was a well placed brachial stun, and a well placed bullet that saved my, as you so colorfully put it, shapely ass. All your flashbang did was give me a mark to run to, and for that thanks, but it was your loud mouth that got me in that situation in the first god-damned place.”

“Whatever.” I mumbled in a tone that sounded like a whimper from a dog that had been kicked too hard…or not hard enough. “What do you want with me, and where in the hell are we going, anyway?”

“I’m taking you to see my employer.” She replied.

“Well, that answers a lot.” I said, with the sarcasm of a crippled, Vicodin addicted doctor. “Who is your employer, and what do they want with me?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.” She grumbled. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get the hell out of here in case those beastly fuckers, can open manhole covers.”

We started walking. “Who says I want to meet your employer? What if I don’t want to go?” I asked. Not that the answer would have mattered.

“Jesus! What are you, like seven? Do you ever stop asking questions? Are we there yet?” She mocked in a tone reminiscent of an annoying child. “The answer should be evident, Mr. Observant policeman. We know you were going to leave the city. So did they apparently. You know the dangers out here. If you want to hack it alone, fine. If you come with me to meet my boss, you’ll have someone of a capable sort who has an interest in keeping you alive, at least till we make our destination.”

She stopped. She lifted a white tarp she was using to camouflage a shallow pit covered with plywood. Beneath the plywood were two, small dirtbikes laying on their side.

“Where did you get those?” I bubbled in amazement. “Wait, who is ‘we’ and who are ‘they’?”

She stood her bike up. “These will outrun the Segways, and huffys.” She stomped on the kickstart. The engine growled with all the ferocity of a chainsaw on steroids. “Now shut the fuck up and follow me.”

If you are interested in writing a chapter, to help Max along his southward journey, please head to Mild Max.