Wednesday, June 15, 2005

The condemned ate a hearty breakfast, and he didn’t say thank you either

Todd the Human Cannonball, was fired sacked by the British traveling circus he performed in because his employers wanted to send him to Brazil for safety training — and he’s afraid to fly.

Lately the defenders of Guantanamo, whose names will someday be remembered with the distaste now felt for the senators who filibustered federal anti-lynching legislation (which you’ll notice is always called that rather than “federal lynching legislation” to avoid people thinking that what was proposed was to legalize lynching, or perhaps to make it mandatory), have been taking a gastronomic turn, lauding the menu at the gulag of our times as proof of American munificence. Lemon fish, they say. With two types of vegetables, they say. Chicken three times a week, they say. Really, what more could these people want, for the rest of their lives? We give and we give and we give and we give, and it’s just never enough for them. I mean two fucking types of vegetable. And do they thank us for it? Not a bit of it. The ingratitude.

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