thanks for the scraps, stupid

The United States Congress is like the nasty-ass honeybadger. When it comes to DC, it just doesn't give a sh*t. Instead, it takes what it wants and we're a snake in a tree. Indeed, honeybadger don't care. And so, color me unsurprised (which is the exact same color as yellow-tinted cat vomit, by the way), when I heard other states' elected officials reached a budget deal on Friday that leaves Washington, DC, with only a few scraps of autonomy. Basically, we're like the special kids on the short bus and Congress is our abusive caretaker. Apparently, we're incapable of independence. Then again, after the early signs of idiocy Mayor Vince Gray has displayed, maybe they're right...

And so, really, the only reasonable response here is anarchy. It's high time we, individual second-class citizens of DC who have the ability to wipe our own asses, all become our own nasty-ass honeybadger rulers and tell both Congress and our own inept elected officials (by the way, who the f*ck are you people electing these fools?!) to keep away from our delicious bee larvae. All our own hive are belong to us! And sure, we may get stung, but as we already know, honeybadger don't care! Honeybadger doesn't give a sh*t. WE TAKES WHAT WE WANTS.

By the way, the above argument will make much more sense after you watch the below clip. Although unless you're a time traveler from the past and don't know about the Internet (which doesn't even make any sense), or you haven't had the displeasure of reading this blog before (because I'm pretty sure this is something like the 8th post in a row I've mentioned the nasty-ass honeybadger), you've probably seen this clip and, more importantly, love it already.



Moving on (because the scraps in this post's title also refers to the scrappy kind of content I'm providing today), news broke, or actually, more like trickled down like a tear on the overtanned cheek of John Boehner that Bravo schmreality program Real Housewives of DC will not get a second season. May I be the first to say, who cares? That show sucked balls. The only good parts were the Salahis, whose 15 minutes have already expired since it seems they've become an iota bit self-aware. No one wants to watch crazy and delusional people pretend to act reserved and sane. No one wants to watch people conform to the boring conventions of "DC society," which is ruled by a pleated pair of Dockers and Terry Burch flats. If I wanted to see that, I'd just go outside...

Finally, I want to end this post with the best scrap of all -- what I overheard at Q and 17th Streets on Friday evening. A man walking toward me on the phone said, "I need to get some money again." *pause* "That's right," he continued. "In my butt." WHAT?! This brought up so many questions in my mind that I almost turned around to follow him just to hear more. Was this money to be inserted in his butt? Was something going to be inserted in his butt for money? Or was this an entirely different conversation he was now embarking upon? If you're out there, sir, please, fill me in! Honeybadger does care!