This Coblert Dude

Who’s this Colbert jerk? Let me shake his hand! This man has balls- to test the mettle of the press corps and the President! HAWHAWAW

Look, I do not give a FUCK who the President is. It does not change my role one bit. How ridiculous the President looks is of no interest to me. I have one charge and one charge only: KEEP THE HOI POLLOI IN AWE. Keep them running.

And that’s the easiest job in the world. You throw something on TV and they flock to it. Lure em with a story, or confuse em with Dada. They flop their jello wings, hovering around that seductive light bulb that might let them forget misery, shame, fear, corpses, for 5 minutes.

In fact, I WANT a better President! Give me a “REFORMER”- I want a challenge!

These guys make it too easy to just keep the piles of dough in my circle. Make it hard! I dare you!

The ultimate prey is MAN and I want a level playing field!

America, I’ll give you a reformer President and 20 minute lead! After that, I’m coming after you!

My Own Strip Goddammit

Ok- it’s no secret that Hart has no idea what the hell he is doing half the time, but at least he’s had the sense to bring me to the fore a bit more.

I’m getting my own weekly strip, it’s called WORNERVISION, and here you can read about it:
W O R N E R V I S I O N
So there you go.

A Call to be Peppered

It was many years ago today that I peppered that guy in the face…

Anyway, screw all you poor, the tired the wretched should find some other country to keep coming into, cause it’s not like we’re sitting around trying to come up with jobs for y’all, you dumb shits. We are all sitting around, trying to make some more cash for ourselves- “uh duh”- to put it in your vernacular.

So listen- DON’T COME HERE! And don’t have more kids, and don’t stay here if you can’t make it in the American Dream. The American Dream is about the tax code now, baby. It’s about buying favors, and looting the tax base (did I mention that if you DO stick around, at least make enough money to pay some federal taxes- JEESH) and enjoying the returns.

This is a good country to be rich. I encourage you to try it.

It will give me more things to aim at, to try and “pepper” as it crosses my line of sight.

Come on out- the hunting’s fine.

I Did Not Shoot That Man

I did not shoot a man. Well I did not really get him between the eyes, anyway. I shot him but I blew it. If you accidentally shoot a man, and he’s going to be ok, the least you could do as another wealthy man, is pay the guy a bit in remorse change. And the least you could do, as God- hello God!- is let it be that you really nail him (but then be ok!)

Is it manslaughter if you are really just accidentally right there and it just happens to nail him between the eyes, and if God in his providence saw , as always, that your shot didn’t miss.

I think I’m turning my own stomach here. I would never shoot another wealthy man, Jeez. A man like that has earned his keep!

Tomorrow, who I WOULD shoot…

Living Wage my Foot

The reason you don’t get this “Living Wage” you all are clamoring on about is CAUSE WE DON’T NEED THAT MANY OF YOU! Seriously- if there were less of you running around, fine, we could use you, but there’s so many damn many of you underfoot, going to your little trainings and colleges, riding your little trains or in your little clunkers. Listen- stop having so many damn kids! When YOU drive up the labor pool a little bit, then YOU drive down wages, and you drive up the difficulty it is to compete in the global marketplace.

Remember: Only YOU can help keep down competition in the Labor Pool! We don’t OWE YOU ANYTHING!!

-Dennis Worner

The myths of the Poor, Middle Class and Wealthy

New mythologies for 2006

The middle class: life on the edge. 3 kids, a 2005 ranch home and an SUV
is like a SAFARI. The safari of LIFE! You’re a TIGER and you pace your
driveway- up and down- up and down, growling at the neighbors, at the
bushes, at the paperboy- it’s you’re realm, you’re a tiger, a cheetah, or
one of those black people in Africa. With a spear and teeth around your
neck. You can roar!You’re a tiger and you’re ready to pounce.

I-95 is a savannah, the road to your folks house is full of heat fumes,
dry wind and predators. The office park is a rocky ledge. You peer out
over it to your domain below, baked in sunlight, harsh desert wind. You
pick up your briefcase and roar! (Your smuckers uncrustables tumble out
but nobody sees.)

2006 is for consumers. The middle class on the prowl. The SUV you prowl
with is called HOT DESERT AIR.

What are the poor? The poor are being CARED FOR. Worner products take care
of you. You’re little birdlings, our products give you the worms you need
to grow. Our products give you the worms.

Our products, we regurgitate our wealth, our knowledge, our power, and
give it to you, you sweet little things. You just gotta stay in the nest.
Stay in our nest, but get out and get a job. We are your mom, a big chubby
loving fat mom.

The WEALTHY are the risk takers. The wealthy are the grapplers, the
surfers, the outsider magazine, the adventure, the Shackletons.

I AM SHACKLETON! I crack the ice for you! I get you home! I feed you
seals! I risk life and limb for YOUR SATISFACTION. I PLANT MY FLAG! CRANE
SHOT ABOVE ME!!!! SPINNING SPINNING!!! SPINNING!!!

Day after Christmas

The best thing about the day after Christmas is that the gift keeps giving and the peons and anklebiters have been well tamed by now to keep pumping pumping at the pump. That the thrill of shopping is no longer a quickie thing- but a long gregarious slide- a bobsled of energy and you can just keep banking it and bobing and banking and the whole damn thing never dies down. Mania! It’s what’s for Christmas!