Daily Briefs: The News, Only Interesting

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APOCALYPTIC NEWS IN BRIEF AND SON: Look. I’m no economist. I’m just an ol’ widowed junk man who lives in Watts with his only son, Lamont. So I’m completely unqualified to judge whether or not Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner is an idiot. “GIVE HIM THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT,” I said in January. Then my son tried to have a romantic evening alone at the house with his girlfriend Darlene but I kept interrupting. So he threatened to move out, and I had one of my “big ones,” lurching around clutching my heart and calling out to my dead wife Elizabeth. Shortly after the inauguration, Geithner leaked out some horrifying details of his bank bailout plan and all of the world’s economists had a “big one.” The Obama administration’s response to that was basically, “Uh, this is not actually the plan. The plan isn’t ready yet.”

This week, they actually leaked out Geithner’s plan in detail. And it’s exactly what everyone thought it was. Geithner has decided that the toxic asset bundles of ill-advised mortgages — the ones that brought down the entire banking and financial industries — are actually valuable, and he essentially wants to create government incentives for private companies to purchase them. In other words, the whole thing is a crisis of confidence, and not actually a desperately horrible and apocalyptic financial crisis. To summarize — Me: a junk man and a moral rapscallion with a heart of gold. Tim Geithner: A fancy economist. But this is still the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. And remember, this is coming from a guy who tried to trick his son into marrying an ugly girl because she was due to inherit $10,000. Basically, we’re all doomed, is what I’m saying, since, when this plan fails, which it will, there’s no way Congress will let the Obama administration have a do-over.

HERE’S A LOOK AT WHAT’S HAPPENING IN YOUR NECK OF THE WOODS OF THE KANSAS CITY STAR: When the Kansas City Star has to eat the poop and publish embarrassing commentary about “the responsibilities of citizenship,” like some square old man from the SERTOMA club wearing a polyester jacket and glasses with thick plastic frames that are dark at the top and clear at the bottom, who shows up to pass out copies of the Constitution to eighth grade classes, they, the Star‘s editors, usually do it in the context of an unnamed editorial. SERTOMA is an acronym-ish construction meaning “SERvice TO MAn,” kind of like “Webelos,” only less embarrassing-sounding. What square thing is the Star demanding now? Advance voting in Missouri. And it’s not even an election year! But, as it turns out, advance voting is really “hip” and “cool” — everyone’s doing it, just like wearing poodle skirts, going to the malt shop and dancing to the juke box, and having anal sex. Why, did you know that Johnson County, Kansas is the “gold standard” of advance voting? Their options include mailed ballots and on-site advance voting. As it stands, the advance voting bill currently moving through the Missouri legisalture includes a notary requirement, whereby your ballot has to be formally stamped by a notary public. And when you engage in any activity that requires a notary public, Hipster Jesus irony-cries, plus, you’ve been inadvertently required to present a photo ID in order to vote. SURPRISE! Stupid notaries.

Beso mi grits, Mexican drug cartels: Were you aware that the State Department issued travel advisories for Americans in Mexico last month? Due to heightened violence between drug cartels and Mexican police? Which is relevant during Spring Break week, because, dude, Padre. But now you can get a real “South of the border” flavor of gun violence and robbery as far North as Tucson, Arizona. And stanky old Lou Dobbs is still worried about people crossing over to get jobs in our Chili’s restaurants and Merry Maids services. There were 200 home invasions last year which authorities believe were related to Mexican gang violence, but the guns involved all originated in the apple-pie-eating land of bald eagles and Lee Greenwood, Norway. HAHAHA, just kidding. Those windmill-dwelling socialists wouldn’t know an apple pie if it swooped out of the sky and dumped jingoistic bigotry on their lederhosen. Anyway, try to avoid Tuscon, I guess, Seacrest out.