"Prostitute" and "slut," new low-blows for Rush Limbaugh, leveled at a female student.  Now we know how low you can go, Limbo.  Now we know how tone deaf a millionaire radio lummox can be -- although, to be fair, Rush blew out his hearing long ago from drug abuse:  Had to get implants to use as his substitute ears, while earning millions making sounds.  That should help you understand his negative ability in clear thinking and in making good, capable judgments.

Now, a wake-up call has been clocked straight at Rush, with two sleep-products providers breaking the nightmare of advertising on his show.  You should call up and visit Sleep Train and Sleep Number, thank them profusely for starting a mini-ripple of standing up for sanity, for voting against this pinheaded prattler's program of hate-mongering, deception, and lies.  With any decent luck, and, with plain decency, other advertisers will also flee, sink this tempest in his own teapot, this Tea Party collaborator.

Are we there yet? Our / journey's been two centuries / and more - seems longer.

Our tales were once told / by common folk, smart and plain. / They honored this land.

2 or 3 trillion / Soc-Sec bucks shiver, are gone. / Who is lying more?

How? The vault was locked! / Reassurances, like wine, / flow down hill, down line.

Occupy marchers / call our minds back to this task: / Remember People!

The problem with paying attention to your surroundings is that, sooner or later, you're going to want it all to start making sense.  We are pattern-seekers, we humans, and love amazing ourselves with patterns and meanings we can conjure and overlay, making sense of all we see.

The process is on autopilot, works right in our heads -- even if the pattern perceived is arbitrary, unreal, fabricated, made up whole cloth, created from lies, brewed from bad brain chemicals, slipped in by hypnosis, installed via mental illness, or sent running in by nightmare.

Can we please activate the Z-ray, or whatever, and right now, puh-leeze, so the nation will take a break from being so incontrovertibly insane? We find re-fishing these foul and fetid political waters disgusting.  We really dislike disturbing the decorum with, well, anything Santorum.

But, Mr. Ricky can't seem to shut his face, has to bite at the air everywhere, like a crazed snapping turtle, trying to find a flipper-hold, trying to get a hold of something.  So, here we are again, trolling these waters, holding up some more trophy whoppers we've pulled out of Liars' Lake.  Mostly, we're just perplexed at the run of little fish in this big pond.  Don't let any of this slop get on you while you're taking the pic.