First the political. Is there anyone out there left, throught the wonders and ubiquity that is youtube.com, who doesn’t believe Bill O’Reilly is just a mighty rancid piece of shit of a dickwad? Wow, that was convoluted. Simply, he is vile.

This should be all embedded and shit, but it ain’t working, and I should be sleeping. Here’s a link to Bill-O being an absolute douche to a retired colonel in the Armed Services of the United States of this America, Colonel Ann Wright before silencing her microphone.

She’s one of the foks in uniform, which I gather from the right wingers on other video that I’m supposed to respect for her uniforma and service to the country. Unless she disagrees, of course. Then, Bill-O, anti-hater, full-on truth-telling patriot, tells it like it is and tries so very hard to paint this woman as the US-hater that anyone in the military for almost three decades surely must be.

By the way, thanks to newshounds.us for the tip on the Fox subtitle progression. At the beginning of the interview, she’s “U.S. Army (Ret.) Col. Ann Wright.” It devolves through referencing her quitting the State Department because of Iraq and ends with calling her “Anti-war activist Col. Ann Wright.” A few more minutes of time on camera before cutting the microphone, she probably would have gotten the label “Godless, Communist Whore Who Hates America, Ann Wright.”

On the personal side, all I got is my tired, empty, soulless self. Towhit, M. and I watch hour after hour after hour of shows that dig the dead. Some nights, through the wonders of cable television, reruns and on demand, we clip on through both the CSI franchise and the Law and Order flavors of juggernaut.

Sometimes, it’s gets sprinkled in with real-life bad shit on CNN and MSNBC and the true stories of CourtTV and the Discovery channels.

Bottom line, there’s a whole lot of killing going on. You watch enough and you gotta figure to be in a couple is to kill or be killed.

Loveless we must be as a couple, since not once, not yet, probably not ever, has or will one of us fly into the forensic-leaving rage of epithelials left under fingernails and spatter patterns. Nor is there the slow simmer, the long-term commitment of poisoning over time.

We have each other, but where’s the drama?