Striking the patient pose required of a liberal-leaning woman married to a frequently sensible conservative, my wife calmly re-explained to me this morning why we shlep fabric bags from Trader Joe’s — that are less disposable than I — in the rear of the family car.
I thought I recalled something about how bringing more plastic bags into the air was bad for Al Gore’s ant farms in Saudi Arabia where proliferating plasticity would increase the fertility rate of Muslim women.
Unfortunately, my eager-to-grasp mind wandered off during Diane’s opening volley, returning just in time to hear her say, “and that is why we should not put any more plastic bags into circulation.”
Dutifully, I thanked her and resumed my research, a painful absorption of more liberal gibberish, a National Geographic piece, “Are Plastic Grocery Bags Sacking the Environment?” By the time I reached the bottom of the story, written by the aptly named John Roach — emphasis on the final syllable — I did not know whether the screwball author was arguing that supermarkets, plastic bags or Republicans were more harmful to the environment.
I would rather talk this morning about the lies and deceptions The New York Times has confessed to in recent days.
Look What the Ambulance Brought
But our morally confused friends on the County Board of Supervisors climbed out of their hospice beds yesterday to wreak fresh havoc that begs closer inspection.
The prestige of the Five Corpses has diminished so sharply that four of them have to flash their photo IDs before their spouses will open the front door for them in the evening.
The ironically named fifth, Yvonne Brathwaite Burke, is the exception. She has given authorities so many addresses while trying to make it look as if she really does reside within the District that by the time she gets home at night everyone who might have cared is asleep.
Ooh, Stinky Pamper for the Hamper
Trying to coax genetically obsessive liberal politicians into reaching a reasonable solution is like rewarding Ray Charles and Helen Keller with an all-afternoon tour of the County Museum of Art.
Convening a meeting of liberals confronted with an environmentally sensitive subject is like putting diapers on an intemperate elderly person. Neither has any control and, sadly, neither realizes it.
People wonder why conservatives consistently make smarter politicians than liberals, who reliably choose expediency over reasonableness. Instinctively, conservatives think, liberals tax.
Reacting to the global-warming groupies’ shrill claim that proliferating plasticity was harming marine life, a nearby liberal extremist group raised its hand. “We think,” said the Earth Resource Foundation of Costa Mesa, which must be on dementia watch, “the problem can be solved by assessing consumers a 25-cent tax on plastic bags.”
I have but one question: Are there no jails, or at least hospitals?
Thank Heaven for Mike
For a little less than $172,000 a year, the Board of Supervisors meets on Tuesdays each week. They are the only panel in Southern California whose name plates face the members so the members can remember who and where they are.
Four of the five members — except for the sensible Mike Antonovich — are liberals. They can’t help it. They were born that way.
Facing an issue requiring courage, they did what liberals do. They tear’d up and buckled.
They are so inept that if they ran brothels, the joints would collapse into churches inside of a year. They enter chambers every week with their arms raised, as if holdup men were following them.
Last March, liberal extremists in San Francisco, guns drawn, convinced the equally dim Board of Supervisors to ban plastic checkout bags.
Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, the Five Corpses reached down to their ankles to stroke their chins, and muttered in broken English, “Good idea.” Lacking the valor of mind or heart to respond without a crutch, they ordered an investigation. Yesterday, they were presented with a menu of five choices. Since their liberal mouths are larger than their puny minds, they chose the weakest alternative:
A purely voluntary program that says store owners, if they want to and their wives don’t mind, should try to convince customers to pack their goodies into reusable containers.
By my interpretation, that means the plastic crisis is over.
Case of the Disappearing Corpse
I was hoping to gain a direct reaction from Ms. Brathwaite Burke, the grandmother of the Five Corpses. But my car ran out of gas chasing her from one to another of the addresses where she insists she lives nearly some of the time.
