Lame Duck....

I apologize if I go over the same ground again and again.....like senile Uncle Ralphie talking up that great 14th hole he once had at Pebble.....

The worst day of work I ever had:

As an apprentice at a French auberge in the countryside, one of my jobs was butcher boy......on duck day, we rounded up all the ducks....the yearlings......from the nice decorative pond by the side of the farmhouse.....We lined them up and arranged the slaughter: a clothesline to string them up and pass them on to two cauldrons of water to properly remove the feathers and down. Two immersions are necessary at two different temperatures

The clothesline was the gibbet......the ducks lined up........the technique was to pick up the duck and quickly stab up through the throat to back of the brain with a short knife. Supposedly there was some nerve situation that assisted in feather removal, plus the bleeding out, with a good knife motion.......the duck, still alive for all intents and purposes, was then hooked onto the clothes line and sent along to the two pots. A quick dip.....the water was around 140 degrees as I remember.......scalding hot....and mad pulling and ripping at feathers....stinking lanolin, scalding water down the gloves, curses you cannot imagine.......then the second pot......more of the same.......then the naked duck was hung on the final rack.

Meanwhile, all his buddies were hanging out watching this......in a polite line.........Seen ''The Pianist"?

As they moved forward, some of the duck buddies would start to limp and drag one leg.....as if to say: " Bad meal....don't take me"......

The Chef's response: Pas de pitié pour canards boiteux...........

No pity for lame ducks......

Needless to say, this phrase often pops up in the day-to-day running of a business involving French people......

I must admit.....that despite the huge penalties involved should I have been discovered.........I contrived a way to sneak some of the limping yearlings either over the fence into the the hayfield, or back with the breeders by the pond.......So, it worked on me.......if not on the French........Guilty of falling for a canard........Maybe one of my ducks was the Spielmann of the duck world.......

Meanwhile.....if you felt the slightest inclination to feel sorry for George Bush and the final collapse of his fucked and failed shit-kicker empire......

Don't.

Today....as one of his lame duck appointments....he appointed Lee Greenwood to the National Council of the Arts. This was the freaky looking whack-job, bald-headed speed freak in the American flag suit that sang the National Anthem to Sarah Palin every day during her eight week run as Poca-haunt-us.

National Council of the Arts.

Lee Greenwood.

The best part? The appointment is for six years.....ensuring the presence of a dumbass redneck fuckward on the Arts Council all the way through Obama's first term.

Nice.

Fuck a duck......and die a cripple.

With all due respect for the Americans with Disabilities Act, this is Cockney rhyming slang.....

Next up, Thomas Kinkade? (if you forget his name just do a google search for "crap art in America").

All these people all need to be stuffed in a goddam bottle and floated out on the Japanese current.....

Yes.

We can.........

Pas de pitie pour canards boiteux.

Really.