Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Stupid Takes a Break

Well, it's officially summer in Texas. I can't step outside without feeling that someone shot a water hose at me. Actually I WISH they would shoot a water hose at me. It's miserable. We've had rain, rain, rain. Now the sun's out. It's in the high 80's. And it's about a thousand percent humidity. If I had hair, I wouldn't be able to do a thing with it.

So, I'm running away from home. And that means no "Stupid People" for a while. Hopefully, I'll return full of tales of FOREIGN stupid people, but I'm actually quite certain that I'll BE the stupid person, given the world's distaste for Americans right now. (Gee, thanks, W!)

At least when I'm in Britain in a couple of weeks, I can yell "Sod off, you wanker! Blair Bottoms for Bush!" Until then, I'm trying to master a Canadian accent.

Also, I'm not sure if it's the weather, or if all the smart people left town at once, but the drivers here in Austin have been preposterously bad the last few days. Aggressive, Oblivious and Angry. Such a delightful combo.

Anyhoo, I'm off. Check back late next week, if you haven't run off with another blogger by then.

Friday, May 25, 2007

Trading Up

“Life’s Short. Get a Divorce.” That’s the theme of a new billboard campaign by a law firm specializing in, you got it, D-I-V-O-R-C-E. The latest billboard on a downtown Chicago building apparently rubbed some folks the wrong way, including a Chicago Alderman. Neighbors of the billboard have complained, and some divorce attorneys have even taken issue with the phrasing, saying that it puts their profession in a bad light. Yeah, like you needed any help with that.

The Alderman felt the billboard was up illegally and had it ripped down. "It has nothing to do with content or anything else. They did not have a permit and they were ordered to take it down," said Alderman Burton Natarus (even his name screams “You kids get off of my lawn,” doesn’t it?). The lawyers who were doing the advertising had the expected overreaction to the Alderman’s overreaction. "They ripped our billboard down without due process. We own that art. I feel violated." Hmmm. Doesn’t that usually involve a digit?

The billboards feature buff, scantily clad folk, apparently suggesting that . . . well . . . you could do better than the flabby, snoring, routine-bound mate you HAD planned to spend the rest of your life with. Now having spent years in the advertising industry, I LOVE this billboard. It cracks me up. But I gotta tell ya, that’s some false advertising.

The only way you’re going to hook up with one of those people on the billboard is if you LOOK like one of those people on the billboard. Those people don’t go to the gym 9 times a day to marry someone who looks like they’re halfway between the Krispy-Kreme and the Wal-Mart.

Not to mention the almost pathological insecurity that seems to go hand-in-hand with the pursuit of buffness. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard some muscle queen who looked like he belonged in an Altoids ad whine about the size of his biceps. (Seriously, that’s some great theater right there. If you don’t have anything to do for happy hour one day, buy a sports drink and a day pass to a gym near you. Park yourself on a bicycle near the free weights, pedal slowly and enjoy the eavesdropping!)

Apparently, though, the billboard was doing its job. The phones were ringing off the hook.

And they say gay marriage is a threat to the institution.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Don't Tell Anyone I Told You

Yesterday, our dear Presi-dunce declassified intelligence from 2005 which purports to show that bin Laden was planning on using Irag as a base for future attacks on the U.S. Why, because of the geographic proximity? Iraq is sooooo much closer than Paki—I mean, AFGHANIstan.

When I first read this, I thought, “C’mon dumbass. Enough with the bullshit scare tactics you use to rationalize your war!” Silly me. He didn’t want the info declassified to scare us.

W wanted the info declassified so he could use it in a commencement speech.

WHA!?!?!? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You couldn’t think of anything else inspiring to tell the Coast Guard cadets? Nothing like those National Security priorities, eh?

I immediately thought of Valerie Plame and how fast and loose this administration plays with our national security and intelligence.

Then it hit me. Maybe they don’t understand the concept of intelligence.

Granted, Bushie is going to use the info in the speech to bolster his “Boo!” factor with the al Qaeda bogeyman. He’s like some carny huckster, using slight of hand and distraction to keep the American people from knowing just how bad it is. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

BTW, how are things in North Korea? Haven’t heard from that front in a while. That Kim Jong Il must have settled right down. And that Three-Buck-Plus gas? Hey, he better make some of his friends some money, or he’ll never raise enough to build his Li-bary.

Mostly, though, I’m just tired of our country being run by such a bunch of blinder-wearing jackasses, stubbornly pursuing a path with little or no regard for truth or consequences. But back to our intel.

I have to admit, that I generally don’t find humor in declassified documents (now used as a sleep aid—highly effective!). But this one held a gem: Abu Faraj al-Libbi, the operative who was supposed to form a terror cell in Iraq, is referred to as a "senior al Qaeda manager." OMG, that absolutely slays me. I can just see the HR bureaucracy of Al Qaeda now: “We think you’re ready for a stretch assignment. You’ve been a senior manager for 3 years now. We’re thinking an expat assignment in Iraq, where you’d be responsible for opening our new call center.”

Given that there’s no evidence any of this plot ever transpired, I wouldn’t be betting on that promotion any time soon, Abu.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Never, Never, Never, Never Bake a Baby

Watch out y’all! The Devil’s back in action. And, of course, it’s happening right here in the Lone Star State. In a Galveston motel this week (boy, you know it ain’t good when it starts with “in a Galveston motel . . .”), 19 year-old Joshua Royce Mauldin popped his two-month old daughter in the microwave for 10-20 seconds, burning her severely.

He said that he put his daughter in the microwave because he was stressed out. WHO KNEW that zapping babies in the microwave was a stress reliever? I usually rely on tequila and xanax (you can crush the xanax and rub it on the rim of the shot glass—YUM!)

But his wife, Eva Marie, blames the debbil, not her stupid motherfucker of a husband. (See what I mean about the “Galveston motel”?!?!?) Apparently, Mr. Mauldin is an aspiring PREACHER. (Go “Teens for Jesus!”) And from Mrs. Mauldin’s perspective, a pretty damn good one.

Eva Marie told KHOU-TV, "Satan saw my husband as a threat."

Bless her ignorant little heart. And I swear I didn’t make that quote up.

But okay, lady, let’s just live in your world for a second. You think that Satan is getting so shook up by a 19-year old BOY in a Galveston motel that he commanded him to microwave your baby, and even gave him COOKING TIMES? Did anyone smell Sudafed and drain cleaner in that motel room?

She probably thinks Jesus is going to come do the dishes? Un-fucking-believable!

She went on to say, “He would never do anything to hurt her. He loves her”. Except for that little burning-in-the-microwave episode. I guess nothin’ says lovin’ like a microwave oven.

When people drop quotes like that, I’m reminded of the exchange between Wallace Shawn’s and Mandy Patinkin’s characters in The Princess Bride. Shawn repeatedly says it’s “inconceivable” that the pirate ship is gaining on them. Watching the ship draw close, Patinkin says, “You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

Friday, May 18, 2007

Master Class

This is the kind of story we expect to come out of a red state, but TACOMA??!? Yesterday, Rosie Costello, a 46 year old mother of two was sentenced to 3 years in prison. Her crime? Are you ready for this? Coaching her children to fake being mentally retarded so that she could draw disability benefits from the government.

I wonder if Carlos Mencia was one of her children?

Her son, Pete, 28, gave up the game when he tried to contest a traffic ticket. Apparently he forgot to drool. See, Mom had convinced federal and state officials that her kids were so severely retarded that they couldn’t perform simple tasks. And we all know that contesting a traffic ticket is harder than math. Or at least a lot harder than fooling federal and state officials. Her daughter, Marie, has not been found. Maybe they should check a milk carton.

The real kicker is that she only received a little less than $300,000 over the years. Now that may sound like a lot in a chunk, but amortize that over 15 years and it’s hardly worth it. If her kids were that convincing, she should have moved to LA and sold them into . . . I mean, LAUNCHED their acting careers. They give Oscars for that shit.

The Judge called her actions “despicable” and actually gave her a longer sentence than federal guidelines suggested. I guess the FEDERAL Judge was feeling a little “Fool me once . . .” yesterday.

Costello, of course, played contrite. "I'm sorry for what I did," Costello told the court. "I had a very hard life. I have grandchildren out there who need me."

Need you for what? Learning how to slouch in an electric wheelchair and shout “TIMMY!” every time someone approaches them? Not necessary. You’ve already made the entire family look retarded.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Male Pattern Stupidity

You know, I’m always a little surprised that Republicans invoke the name of Ronald Reagan as if he were the greatest president of all time—almost god-like. (Although I guess it’s a bit like the Dems always invoking Kennedy, who really should only get credit for being the first President who didn’t have a figurative stick up his ass. Not sure about the literal.)

A couple of weeks ago, in the first Republican presidential debate, the topic of stem cell research came up. Now, it’s pretty common knowledge that stem cells hold tremendous promise in the treatment of a multitude of health issues, including Alzheimer’s, the very disease that robbed Ronald Reagan of his mental faculties. (Many of my people would snarkily suggest that perhaps the Alzheimer’s had set in as early as the 80’s.)

But, here we are in 2007. And science is at a crossroads. Facing a giant Republican/Religious Right roadblock. Because apparently the Republican presidential candidates don’t think Ronald Reagan was worth saving after all. One by one, they went on the record against stem cell research. At the Reagan Library. In front of Nancy Reagan. Nice.

Why? Because it involves fetuses (feti?). And Republicans value a fetus more than just about anything. (Unless, of course, it’s in your mistress, in which case they always seem to have the name of a discreet doctor handy).

Send a bunch of our men and women to die on foreign soil for specious reasons? Sure, why not? That’s called patriotism. But keep your hands off the American fetus.

I always love that the argument centers on “fetus harvesting” like some bad movie. Of course, the Republicans use scare-tactics better than anyone in history. The Salem Witch trials were more subtle. Why one candidate won’t step up and say, “Look, dumbass crackers, we’re not going to cut your inbred bellies open and take your little Waylon Wayne off to the stem cell factory,” I don’t know.

Now comes news that could shift the debate. Researchers have found that stem cells can regrow hair. And CNN even used a picture of Bruce Willis to illustrate the article, which given his Republican leanings, I find quite amusing. Now, we’re talking about mice here, but they say human applications could be less than five years away. Wow. I wouldn’t have to PRETEND to flip my hair anymore!

The downside is, it will lead to a rash mullets. The upside? The only time the R’s talked about Fetus, they’d be referring to the guy who pumps their gas in rural Mississippi. Plus, there’d be no more need for those annoying Hair Club for Men commercials. Isn’t that argument enough? No, how about no more combover for The Donald?

Of course, lack of hair is definitely big on the list of “white man insecurity.” But the real seismic shift in the debate will come when they announce that stem cells can give you a bigger penis. That’ll be a quick vote, with NO chance of veto.

Maybe then, Republican women won’t look so dour.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

The Tears of a Clown

So, it’s all bad news for Tammy Faye Bakker, the flamboyantly emotional ex-wife of fallen televangelist Jim Bakker. Apparently, her cancer has reached a stage where the doctors have given up. Naturally, Tammy Faye ISN’T giving up and has given it over to God to save her from the disease.

Uh-huh. Good luck with that. I’m not sure God will appreciate how you tended his flock.

Tammy Faye, who apparently learned the art of makeup at the knee of a bad drag queen, is an icon. An ironic icon, but an icon nonetheless. No, Tammy, we weren’t laughing WITH you.

Mrs. Bakker could summon tears on command better than any actress who ever lived. Seriously. She could crank the waterworks in the name of Jesus, creating Jackson Pollock-esque splatters of dark mascara on her squat, puffy face. She looked a lot like a bad jack o’lantern.

Her over-the-top hair and makeup have a legacy of their own. I must confess that I do, on occasion (usually after three too many margaritas) pause on the Christian TV. So THAT’S where all the circus freaks are these days! OMG! The hair! The makeup! The bling! And that’s just the guys. The women have these confections on their head that makes them look like they’re going to a party at Marie Antoinette’s.

So many of the televangelists look like they got their styling cues from 70’s TV shows. WHY? WHY? WHY? People, it’s 2007! Looking like a Bee Gee doesn’t really work, even if you’re a Bee Gee. Did you SEE Barry Gibb’s nipples on Idol last week? I nearly yakked. But I digress.

These modern-day hucksters earn MILLIONS off of their virtual “congregations.” And who are these congregants? Who would tune into these spectacles and actually think they’d been visited by a messenger of God? Probably the same people who cut their hair with a Flow Bee, buy Marie Osmond dolls and say things like, “Get off me Daddy, yer smushin’ my cigarettes.”

Of course, a televangelist dressed in Helmut Lang, or his Versace-clad wife aren’t exactly going to get rich off the intelligentsia. That’s what Popes are for. (LOVE the red Prada pumps, girl!) So I guess you play to your audience, eh?

But for those of us who actually finished seventh grade, the spectacle and unintended humor in these broadcasts cannot overcome the chicanery and con games. Every dollar these shysters take from their flock is a dollar that could’ve been spent on Pabst Blue Ribbon or a Lotto ticket. It's not right. And there's a special place in hell for those who con in the name of God.

Sorry, Tammy Faye, but I hope you’ve found a makeup that can withstand high temperatures.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Wonder What the Lesson Plan Said?

The AP is reporting today that a group of teachers from Murfreesboro, Tennessee (which has always seemed like they misspelled it in the first place) staged a mock gun attack on a group of their sixth-grade students during a field trip.

Led by the Assistant Principal Don Bartch (seriously ?!?!?), staff members told the 69 students that a gunman was loose on the state park grounds. The students were instructed to hide under tables and be quiet. They even went so far as to have a teacher in a hooded sweatshirt rattle the door, as if trying to get in.

Naturally, all hell broke loose, with students sobbing hysterically. 11-year-old Shay Naylor said, "I was like, 'Oh My God.’ (real quote) At first I thought I was going to die. We flipped out."

Ya Think?

"We got together and discussed what we would have done in a real situation," said Bartch. Well, dumbass, “in a real situation” the shooter would have hopefully found you first. And, by the way, brainiac, I’m thinking that hiding on the floor and under tables wouldn’t really protect them from a gunman trying to get in. Maybe you could have brought your pet possum and showed the kids how to just “play” dead.

"The children were in that room in the dark, begging for their lives, because they thought there was someone with a gun after them," said one of the parents, Brandy Cole. Again . . . ya think?

The school Principal, Catherine Stephens, “declined to say whether the staff members involved would face disciplinary action, but said the situation ‘involved poor judgment.’" HAHAHAHAHAHA! “Poor judgment?” Way to spin, lady. Who’s your speechwriter, Karl Rove?

You know, I’m always stunned that this caliber of stupidity can come from a group of adults (unless you count the Bush Administration). Did not one of you ignorant motherfuckers stop and say, “Maybe this isn’t such a great idea?” You’re TEACHERS! You are responsible for the safety and well-being of these students. Imagine the levels of therapy they’re going to need! From the looks of things, they barely even have dentists in Murfreesboro, much less therapists! They’ll probably have to go all the way to Nashville for that. And based on the lyrics to most country music, Nashville therapists already have a pretty full plate.

But, my favorite quote from the article was, “Some parents said they were upset by the staff's poor judgment.” WTF?!?!?! SOME parents? I would think ALL the parents would’ve been lining up to open a can of whoop-ass on these people.

At least no one was physically injured. And who knows, maybe we’ll get a couple of country hits out of the deal. Now, what rhymes with “skeered?”

Thursday, May 10, 2007

But Jesus Doesn't Meet the Dress Code!

Have you ever had someone argue with you and he keeps rephrasing his argument because he cannot fathom that you disagree? He figures he’s just not saying it right. And if he can just put it in the right words, you’ll get it and jump on board.
That’s kind of how some of our legislators are in Texas. One in particular, Warren Chisum, a Republican from Pampa (also known as “Ol’ Stick Up His Ass” around here) is well known for his, um, “commitment” to his issues.

One of those issues is the Bible. See W.C. thinks the children of Texas would be in a much better place if they could study the Bible on a daily basis. In school. Public school. The school that taxpayers of ALL faiths are paying for.

Mr. Chisum, WE GET IT! We just don’t agree. This is exactly what our founding fathers were talking about when they declared a separation of church and state. They came to these shores to escape an endorsed state religion. And they wove that philosophy into the very fabric of our society.

Chisum insists that the class wouldn’t be about proselytizing, but would focus on “the history and literature of the Bible.” Uh huh. Isn’t that what Sunday School is for?

Can you imagine what state of apoplexy Mr. Chisum would go into if someone tried to make his kids study the Torah or the Koran in public schools? (I for one, would pay to watch him turn that many shades of red). Hell, he’d probably explode if they tried make them read a Catholic Bible.

Now comes the curve ball. Given the current glut of strife in the world, and the unbelievable amount of conflict carried out in the name of “God,” I actually think it might be time to start teaching religion in schools—ALL religions. Their histories, their similarities, their differences. Teaching our poor little ass-backward thinkers to appreciate that there are others who believe differently and that their beliefs aren’t “wrong.” Or that someone else’s beliefs should not impact one’s own faith. And that maybe, just maybe, faith isn’t something to fight over.

Of course, then you wouldn’t be able to scare them into voting for people like Warren Chisum or George W. Bush.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Darwin = Santa

Last Thursday, the pack of Republicans who want to be our next president got together for a chat (honestly, no one actually “debates” anymore) at the Ronald Reagan Library. It seems everybody and his dog is running. And why the hell not? Wouldn’t YOU want to succeed W? How good will our next President look by comparison? Economy in the shitter? Hey, at least it’s better than W! World War 3? At least W’s not at the helm! Just by comparison, our next prez could be The Best President Ever. But imagine if he or she actually DOES something. But let’s talk about the Republicans again.

During the debate, Rudy Giuliani said he was (sort of) pro-choice—the only candidate to stake out such equivocal ground. He said he was "personally opposed" but believed it was a woman's right to choose. Especially if that woman happens to be the woman you're cheating on your wife with, who happens to get knocked up. She should have a choice.

The real revelation, though, was when the candidates were asked, “How many of you don’t believe in evolution?” Are you ready? As if it weren’t enough that they would even ASK such a question, three candidates (all of whom already hold public office) ACTUALLY RAISED THEIR HANDS. Former Gov. Mike Huckabee of Arkansas, Rep. Tom Tancredo of Colorado, and Sen. Sam Brownback of Kansas.

‘Scuse me? You don’t BELIEVE in evolution? What DO you believe in, The Easter Bunny? You don’t have to believe we’re descended from apes, and you may actually believe that God really only put in one hard week’s worth of work in his life, but you can’t deny the existence of proven science (Although, come to think of it, GW Bush has made a career of it.)

I mean, I understand that you’re trying to pander to the Religious Right, but seriously dudes, that’s like saying you don’t believe in hair.

Now you just look like fucking idiots (although I admit that was a short trip). And managed to prove Darwin’s Theory of National Selection. (Funny how that works, huh?)

That’s right. We can stick a fork in you guys. You’re done. We’ve already had one stupendously ignorant President (They call it “the Yale Exception). You can’t fool us again.

Or in the words of GW, “Effool ma cain foolmagin.”

Monday, May 7, 2007

J’Elle Décor

Paris Hilton announced today that she has narrowed her search for a jail cell decorator to two finalists. “It’s been really tough to narrow the field. There are so many people who want to work with me on this. 45 days is, like, a month. It’s practically like I’m MOVING there.”

Kenneth Brown, host of HGTV’s reDESIGN is one of the finalists. Known for his spare aesthetic and contemporary flair, Brown seems a logical choice for the job.

“This is a time for reflection for Paris, so we wanted to really play off the minimal aspects of the cell,” said Brown. We’ll use tatami mats for floor covering, which can double as yoga mats. And I’m thinking one little pop of color—maybe a large lounge pillow. Or an Asian symbol painted on one wall.”

Brown proffered that, “Small spaces call for creative solutions, like using the toilet as a water feature, so we bring a little bit more of the outside in.”

The other finalist is Marc Jacobs, the fashion designer. “Marc’s not exactly an interior designer,” said Hilton, “But I see him and his hustler boyfriend all the time out at the clubs, and they’re HOT, so it just felt right.”

“Paris really wanted me to cover the whole space in Louis Vuitton. But I went in a different direction,” said Jacobs. ‘I was, like, Paris where is the smallest space you can imagine having fun?’ She was like, ‘Nicole Richie’s ass!’ And I was like, ‘No, seriously,’ and she was like, ‘a bathroom stall? The backseat of a car?’ And I was, like, “Morocco!” She got it right away.”

So, it’s going to be this desert tent, with all these wild colors and pillows and a hookah, just for kicks. EVERYONE smokes cigarettes in there, so this just takes it to a whole new level.”

Jacobs continued, “To be cheeky, we’re going to put a miniature velvet rope just inside the cell door. It creates an air of exclusivity, but in a fun, playful way. I mean, think about it. THIS is going to be the VIP room of this joint.”

Hilton loved the idea. “That’s HOT!”

Friday, May 4, 2007

Smart People Playing Dumb

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I hate meetings. HATE them. It’s one of the reasons I blog. Bloggers don’t have meetings. We have cocktails.

I think meetings are, as a rule, a colossal waste of time and rarely move the ball forward. Sometimes, however, they are a necessity. I get that.

But yesterday, I had a brand new experience. Something I’d never seen before. Except in “Being There.”

I’m pretty sure I had a meeting with the modern day equivalent of Chauncey Gardiner.

He had the voice of preacher. Not the hell-fire-and-brimstone type, but the kind who spoke in a quiet hush, forcing you to lean in and pay attention. And he began each statement with, “I’m new here.” Or, “Well, this is my first meeting.” It reminded me of the old “Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer” sketch on SNL. Except it wasn’t funny.

That was followed by HR nightmare references to “the girls” in the office being the ones who handled “the charity work.” And rambling rebuttals to others’ comments that completely missed the (really obvious) points. In short, you would think this guy was a rube. A complete dumbass simpleton sexist git.

OH, I almost forgot.

He . . . was . . . the . . .sloooooooowest . . .talker . . . ever. So, in addition to having to listen to his inane ramblings, you had to sit through the molasses pour.

But, then you look at his business card. And it might as well have had “POWER” embossed on it. This lame motherfucker is a major CEO. WTF?!?!?

People, I tell you, my jaw dropped so hard I couldn’t even roll my eyes. But I sat there. For two-and-a-half hours. And wondered if there is such a thing as “functionally comatose?”

Then I brightened. At least I knew what I’d be blogging about on Friday.

Thursday, May 3, 2007

When Good Drugs Make Stupid People Do Bad Things

CNN reported today that an unmarried couple in Ohio locked their two children in a cage while the parents did drugs. Why couldn’t they get a babysitter to watch the kids while they did drugs like a normal couple, you ask? My guess is daddy had already impregnated all the available babysitters and they were just biding time until someone with a pubescent daughter moved a new trailer into the neighborhood.

But I digress. Apparently, the couple aged 28 (her) and 37 (him) used the dog cage and a remote controlled shock collar as disciplinary tools. “They wasn’t just for when we was doin’ drugs,” said the mom. “It was any time them ungrateful little rug rats needed a timeout. Kids is hard work.”

In his defense, the father said, “Dogs are a man’s best friend. And if this cage and collar are good enough for my dogs, then they’re good enough for my bastard children who need to learn to keep their fuckin’ mouths shut.”

Authorities searching the premises (and yes, it was a trailer—SHOCKING!) found it “filled with garbage.” When asked for a comment, the mom said, “That ain’t garbage. Them’s objets d’art. People say they’ll know it when they see it, but people don’t know shit about art.”

The children were being held by Child Protective Services until one of their relatives could get their trailer to town.

So the moral of the story? Don’t do drugs!

Or at least don’t do drugs in front of your children. But, if you HAVE to do drugs in front of your children, don’t lock ‘em in a cage. But, if you are going to lock them in a cage, make sure the motherfuckin’ lock works and your little tattletale white trash bastard children don’t run tellin’ the neighbors your business.

Or you could just shoot yourself and reduce the stupid population by a fraction.

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Your 16 Minutes Are Up

Y’all! OMG! Y’all!! BRITNEY IS BACK! I mean totally back. Like, LIVE in concert back.

Y’all! She has this smokin’ hot bod again. And she can totally dance and chew gum at the same time. And her wig didn’t fall off once. NOT ONCE!

She showed up incognito (which should TOTALLY be the name of her new album) at the House of Blues in Sandy Eggo last night and ROCKED the house. Y’all she had, like, 4 back-up dancers. And she did all five of her famous songs (there was a rumor she might show off some new stuff, but who needs THAT for a comeback. SHA!). And, y’all--her lips never missed a word! I mean, that’s a pro, ya know! I mean, Ashlee Simpson doesn’t even lip-synch to the right song half the time.

But not our Brit. OMG, she was FLAWLESS! She was onstage for just 16 minutes, but y’all it seemed like a WHOLE lot longer. I don’t know about you, but 16 minutes seems like the perfect length for a Britney Spears concert.

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

But . . . That's Not Funny.

So, apparently, the state department will release the latest terror numbers next week. Surprise? Terror attacks are up 29%. The official number is in the neighborhood of 14,000 distinct terror attacks. Half of those occurred in Iraq. What?! You’re kidding? There were actual attacks in a war zone? The war zone where we are supposedly fighting terror?

Okay, Bush is the boy who cried wolf. We can all acknowledge that, right? I mean, how many people actually get their knickers in a bunch over reports like this? Who can tell me what the terror alert color of the day is? Exactly.

We are sooooo over this bullshit. And the scare tactics. And the bullies in the current administration.

I’d love to see how they’re counting. Is every suicide bomb, or insurgent attack considered “terrorism?” Where does terror stop and war begin?

And isn’t it nice to know that WE actually brought terror to the table in Iraq? Since we now know that there wasn’t any real legitimate Al Qaeda action going on there before the war. Now, though, they have their own brand: “Al Qaeda in Iraq.” I wonder which of Rove’s clones coined that one. Boo! (Seriously, y’all. How spooky is that Kyle Sampson guy from Justice? Doesn’t he look like Rove lite?)

Alas, it’s too little, too late. We’re there. We’re fucked. We've gotten used to it. And every day more soldiers die so that Exxon Mobil can report another record profit. I say, let the sons and daughters of all the oil company millionaires go directly to the front lines. That way, it’s a clean transaction. Maybe let Jenna and Barbara have their next margarita in Baghdad? The Brits are sending Harry. Where are our princesses?

Meanwhile, Condoleeza Rice is still towing the party line. Honey, give it up. No one is buying what you’re selling. Come to the light, CarolAnndeleeza. Your boss is an embarrassment to democracy.

You know I could never figure out how my parents could be so embarrassed by Bill Clinton’s blow job. But with Bushcephus at the helm, I now know how they felt.