What’s the good of repairing international relationships or fixing the domestic economy if we’re all going to become mutant X-Men due to cell phone radiation? LK and Dr. John spar and the ring is spattered with verbal blood.

Here’s the link.

                          

Here’s the link.

                          

Here’s the link.

                          

LK is insistent; Obama must go. Where’s the Democrat who can challenge and wrest the nomination away from him? With O leading the Dem ticket, count on education and quality of life cutbacks for all but the privileged few. Dr. John reveals Newt Gingrich for the pompous flip flopper he is.

Here’s the link.

                          

LK gives a scathing review to the congressional theatrics surrounding the futile attempt to kill ObamaCare. Neither Elephants nor Donkeys are spared.

Unfortunately, unlike most poorly reviewed shows, this one isn’t closing.

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I finally accepted as fact that someone or some entity had been spiking my Coke Zero with LSD, or a similar hallucinogen.  There was no other way to explain the surreal headlines: the health care reform that existed in name only, the financial regulation bill that changed nothing.  It was Alice In Wonderful, 1984, and The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test all rolled into one.  Surely the nation’s Swami of sincerity, the President himself, the man I voted and wrote for when he was a candidate, could not have let these masterworks of doublespeak come to pass.

And so, accepting my altered state, I knew that the only thing to do was to stay away from the keyboard and the Coke Zero until I “came down”, as I understand it’s referred to.  Whatever else I may have done in my imperfect life, I have never dropped acid, so it was an unfamiliar state to me.

But the hallucinations persisted.

I thought I saw Elliot Spitzer, the disgraced ex-governor of New York, on CNN, commenting on a debate between Harry Reid and Sharon Angle, in a race that, at the time, was neck and neck.  The damned drugs must still be running through my system, I reasoned, while realizing that reasoning was not going to be a strong point while the damned drugs were still running through my system.  There was no way, from what I had seen and heard of her, that Angle could have been nominated, let alone been in contention for one of the 100 seats in our nation’s most august legislative body.

I saw Linda McMahon, who I could have sworn I’d seen at the receiving end of a piledriver while surreptitiously watching professional wrestling, running for Senate as well.

I saw an ad in the New York Times that shamelessly announced that Pee Wee Herman was coming to Broadway.  Or on Broadway.  In the state I was in, I couldn’t be sure.

I saw Juan Williams, admittedly a man who never saw a media outlet he didn’t plug himself into, get fired from that dyed in the wool defender of free speech, NPR, for saying something that every westerner who’s ever flown has thought.

I saw Clarence Thomas’ wife, a woman ironically named Virginia, rekindle a fire that had long been put out, a fire that could do nothing but hurt her husband and remind the nation that his sitting on the Supreme Court was an aberration that never should have occurred.

And so I waited, and waited, and waited some more.  I checked the pharmacological literature, and it became clear that enough time had passed for the drugs to exit my system.

Then, just the other day, I read that the United States had coerced Israel into taking actions that would result in the resumption of Middle East peace talks by giving them 20 war planes

And I connected my recent non-stop cognitive dissonance to the current chatter about something called “the new normal”.

Finally, an explanation.

Now the question is, how does one detox from this “new normal”?