Happy Birthday!

Today is My Beloved's birthdays. I love birthdays. My own and others'. I think it's so much fun to celebrate someone for all the special things they bring to the world. I am the luckiest man to have such a great fella. I'm not an easy person to live with, but he just seems to get me.

So, let the birthweek begin! Hopefully we won't get too stupid.

Mythical Creatures in the News

What is the deal with all the monster sightings lately? Big Foot found in East Bumfuck. Chupacabras in South Texas. I’m just waiting to see how the Republicans manage to blame the “monster infestation” on the Democrats.

And speaking of mythical creatures, I’m starting to think the exalted Obama may fuck this thing up. Joe Biden as one of the top contenders for VP? You have GOT to be kidding me. Haven’t voters rejected him OVER and OVER again? I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice man who represents his fair little state of Deleware ably. But on the national stage, he’s mincemeat. Don’t do it.

A campaign that seemed so full of HOPE for change. A campaign that seemed so . . . different . . . than any before it. Suddenly, it’s all starting to feel the same. I want to recapture that excitement. I want to believe he’s an agent of change. I want to believe that he will actually beat John McCain. But my conviction is waning day by day.

Maybe Hillary overthrowing the convention wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all.

C’mon, O! Turn up the heat.

In Case We Didn’t Look Stupid Enough Already

My fabulous sister-in-law, La Proscrita del Norte, forwarded me an online article she’d found on the BBC news site. I had already heard the news, of course, that a West Texas school was going to allow teachers to carry concealed weapons. And while, I thought it a completely bone-headed thing, this IS Texas, after all, where most guns will have to be “pried from their cold, dead hands,” as the saying goes.

We even elected a woman to our Legislature once, simply because she’d been present at a massacre at Luby’s Cafeteria and campaigned on the fact that, if she had had a gun with her, all those innocent people wouldn’t have been killed. She was so sure of her aim that she was certain she could have taken the perp out with one shot. Ridiculous? Oh, yeah. But the electorate eat that shit UP around here.

I was all, like, BITCH, why didn’t you bum rush the motherfucker and take the bullet yourself, if you’re all brave and shit.

Okay, I’ll stop bobbing my head back and forth now.

So back to handguns in the hands of teachers. In Harrold, Texas (which is so small and insignificant that I’ve never even heard of it. Plus, it’s practically in Oklahoma), they are concerned with school shootings. And they feel like the best way to prevent this is to arm the faculty. The good news is, they only have ONE campus for all twelve grades (although most of the kids there probably take a good 14-15 years to graduate). Their rationale?

"When the federal government started making schools gun-free zones, that's when all of these shootings started," said school superintendent David Thweatt (ne “Cracker”).

Yeah. That’s when. I hadn’t been able to pinpoint the exact moment, but now I see. Thank you smart superintendent. PS How many National Merit Scholars does Harrold ISD produce a year? None? Shocking!

And why does every fucking jackalope always blame it on the Feds. I love how people think our government is somehow “them” not “us.” You know, they sell mirrors at wal-mart.

But there’s nothing like reading a news story written for a foreign audience to give you new perspective on the veil of stupidity surrounding you. Guess it’s kind of like the smog in Beijing. After a few years, you don’t even really notice it. You just cough and spit and go on about your business.

The BBC makes absolutely NO editorial comment. But they leave the point out there stinking like a fresh turd in the Texas sun.

Of course, after foisting W onto an unsuspecting world, I’m not sure anyone expects anything better of us.

Say wot?

I have to admit I’m a spelling geek. Not the Tori/Aaron/Candy drama kind. The word kind. Maybe it’s because I’m a writer. Maybe because I thought it made me feel superior to the mill worker children in Purty Mouth, Texas.

Or maybe just because I learned how to do it properly. That’s not to say I don’t, on occasion, misspell a word. Spell check helps, for sure. As does having an online dictionary a click away.

Which I guess is why today’s article in CNN has me fuming.

A university professor in Buckinghamshire (UK) thinks teachers waste too much time correcting students' spelling. And he thinks we should lighten up a bit. He doesn’t want to allow ALL misspellings, just words like February (Febuary), twelfth (twelth) and truly (truly). He says his students ask him why there’s no “e” in truly and he doesn’t have a good explanation.

Uh, hey dumbass, there are a lot of spellings that don’t make sense. Most of them in your own back yard. Colour. Favour. Arse. That should get us started. But it doesn't mean we need to change them.

And “twelth?” What the fuck is that? I actually pronounce that “f.” Am I alone in that?

He goes on to say how “punished” these students are, especially when it comes to applying for a job or filling out a form, even when most of the misspellings are quite common. I'm sure you heard me groan on that one.

Right, then, guvnah! Let’s not make the stupid people feel, um, I don’t know, STUPID!?!?! Let’s reward this fucking laziness by tagging them as poor victims. Sorry, that shit don’t play on this blog.

Thank God CNN was kind enough to provide counterpoint:

"People who spell a lot of words incorrectly either aren't paying attention or don't care," says Barbara Wallraff, who writes the Wordcourt column on language and writing problems for the Atlantic and King Features Syndicate. "Why are we changing our language to accommodate — with two m's — them?"

Amen sister. Of course, what do you expect from someone who doesn’t know his arse from a whole in the grind.

His Lips Are Moving

I think we need to invent a new kind of zipper for male politicians. One that won’t release if the wearer is sporting wood. Because I for one am tired of politicians, from both sides of the aisle (although I do love it when the evil ones get their comeuppance), throwing their credibility away in the quest for nookie.

I’ve been watching with a mixture of glee and sadness as the John Edwards affair (the former Senator, not the psychic) has unfurled. Glee because, once again, a politician has put his, er, foot in, uh, his mouth. Or something like that.

Sadness because I believed he was a man of principle. And because his lovely wife had to deal with his bullshit on top of her own terminal cancer prognosis. Yep, he fucked around on his wife while she battled for her life. Guess that’s one way of coping. Sleazebag.

Mostly though, it’s just blatantly narcissistic. Which should come as no surprise if you look at how the man grooms himself. Practically metrosexual. Which, of course, begs the question, "Why do these guys always poke the ugly girls?" I mean, I would think they could pretty much poke and choose, but Edwards, like President Clinton before him, seems to have an affinity for the plain girls.

Edwards portrayed himself as a champion of the working class. So maybe hanging out in all those honky tonks listening to a bunch “done me wrong” songs is what pushed him over the edge. Maybe there’s something subliminal in those country recordings and if you play ‘em backwards they say, “hit on the skank with the overprocessed hair! Knock her up and get yerself a bastard child and some child support payments!” Or “her roots don’t look that dark in the dark, but the white blonde frames her face like an angel, don’t it?’

And speaking of child support, everyone who believes that the payments being made to Ms. Hunter by Senator Edwards good friend and former finance chair have been made without the Senator’s knowledge please send me $5.

I’ll hold my breath as I plan my shopping spree.

ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!

I just learned something. A really valuable lesson.

It's not always the melted cheese on the pizza that burns your mouth. Sometimes it's the molten lava tomato sauce underneath, that squirts as you bite into it splattering the inside of your mouth like shot.

Good to know.

I Think We're Turning Chinese, I Really Think So

There has been so much going on lately that I’ve barely time to sleep, much less blog. But, oh, where to start. I know, let’s start with the Olympics.

It’s been so interesting to me to hear the outcry over all the “faked” stuff at the opening ceremonies. The fireworks thing I totally get. It’s not like they weren’t actually shooting off overhead, it’s just that it would have been hard to chronicle live. But, isn’t the footage they showed from a “live” shot? So why could they chronicle it then, but not at the opening ceremonies. Was there less “danger” at the dress rehearsal? Curious.

Of course the thing that just blows my mind is the babygirl bait and switch. You know, where they substituted the “pretty” girl for the “ugly” girl with the magnificent voice. Can you imagine the therapy bills? For BOTH girls. Do they even have therapy in China?

I mean that poor little girl isn’t the cutest thing in the world, but she’s not exactly a chupacabra (do you think they eat chupacabra in china?). And she’s got this amazing gift. I think the Chinese would have been better off showing a little appreciation for the talent over beauty. People would have been amazed at the voice.

In the end, though, you gotta admit it was a spectacle. Might was well start practicing your Chinese now, because these people are going to rule the world. Of course, the ONE thing they couldn’t control was the one thing that really fucked with them. Did you see the smog? If you get a second, google “Beijing smog.” Fucking unbelievable.

So, future Chinese masters of the universe, you can bring the delicious cuisine and the groovy technology, but leave the smog in the motherland. Mkay?

And you shall know them by the trail of the Cheetohs

Authorities, investigating a snack machine that had been vandalized and emptied, followed the most obvious clue, a trail of orange Cheetoh dust and other “snack debris” to a house just around the corner from the location of the machine.

There they arrested three teenagers for the crime.

Okay, how fucking stoned do you have to be to bust into a vending machine, steal all the shit, but be so munchtastic that you have to start ripping into the Cheetohs RIGHT THEN!

I’m sure had the trail not been so clear, the police could have discovered orange fingerprints all over the place. Then matched them to the orange prints on the bong they’re bound to have found at the boys’ house.

Dude. Everybody knows those snack sizes won’t cure the hunger. Rob a 7-11 next time.

Gimme an "L." Gimme an "O." Gimme another "L."

Sometimes the jokes just write themselves.

More than two dozen cheerleaders (I’m guessing 24 blondes and a token African-American girl), in town for a cheerleading camp, got stuck in an elevator on the University of Texas campus yesterday. Apparently, they decided to see how many anorexic girls could fit into the space, and overloaded it. Probably because one of the girls had failed to purge.

The article was all dramatic. “Two girls passed out and were treated at the scene.” Oh, dear. Didn’t someone have a tic-tac to nourish these poor girls.”

It then goes on to say that they were in the elevator for TWENTY MINUTES. That’s it? Twenty whole minutes? Mary, sweet mother of Jesus. Talk about short attention spans. The girls used their cell phones to call authorities, who, based on response time, were apparently waiting in the lobby.

An AOTSP reporter on the scene was able to interview some of the survivors. Some of the bites:

“It was, like, soooo scary, ‘cuz, like, some of those bitches were total skanks, okay? I didn’t EVEN want to be touching them.”

Another said, “we were all chanting, ‘open this door!’ but it’s really hard to do a good cheer when you can’t lift your arms over your head.”

“(sob) I wasn’t sure I would ever do a herky again (sniffle, sob)”

“I am completely sure that this was just part of God’s plan for me. I full intend to use this experience as a growth opportunity, both spiritually and personally. That which does not kill me makes me stronger. And since I’m obviously not dead, that means I’m stronger. And THAT means I might even make (shrieks) HEAD CHEERLEADER!!!!!! Fire UP!”

“The cell signal was, like, ONE BAR. Sha! I kept trying to text people, but it was impossible. And I couldn’t call. I didn’t want any of the other girls to hear what I was saying about them. I mean, please. These girls are my FRIENDS. If they knew what I was saying, it would totally hurt their feelings.”


“Does anyone have a tic-tac? Or a Red Bull?”




Hmmm, I wonder if any of them were so traumatized that they will “never cheer again.” One can only hope.

Swimmin' In It

So apparently Hurrican Edouard has soaked southwestern Louisiana, creating flood waters about two feet deep. This area of Louisiana, due east of Purty Mouth, is not known for it’s learned people. In fact, this bit of swampy backwater is beyond white trash. Crackerville is the closest town.

But I couldn’t have imagined the sight I’d see upon opening cnn.com this morning. There was a picture of a little girl in front of her trailer, gleefully SWIMMING IN THE FLOOD WATERS!!

I can just hear her meth’d out mom and dad. “Git on out there and get yer laps in ‘fore it goes dry. Watch out fer them gaters and water borne diseases. But holler if ya see a nutria. We ain’t got nuthin fer dinner tonight.”

I’m not exactly sure how the gene pool got so shallow in this part of the world. But if they ever hold a swamp Olympics, my money’s on this little girl.

Pay at the Pump

So, Exxon Mobil posted another record quarter’s earnings. And the news was met with . . . a gigantic yawn. I have to admit, even I am overstimulated by the numbers. The article I read stated that, if one time write offs and profit taking were excluded, Exxon Mobil would have the 10 MOST PROFITABLE QUARTERS IN CORPORATE HISTORY.

So, where’s the outrage? And better yet, where are the conspiracy theorists.

Where are the people questioning the claims that gas prices are rising because of supply and demand, yet the profits are rising even faster. Sounds like a load of fossil bullshit to me. But what do I know? Maybe if we have lower gas prices the terrorists win. Although I’m thinking that the terrorists are Saudi and most of the profits on oil are Saudi . . . could there be a connection? Nah. Surely the press would have picked up on something like that. If they weren’t a bunch of ostriches with their heads buried in the White House lawn.

It’s funny how the press appears to have wilted in the face of the Bush Administration’s misdeeds. And make no mistake, these gas prices, and these oil company profits, are directly linked to the Bushy policies.

I hear lots of chatter at social gatherings. Biting criticism between canapés and cocktails. But where’s the action. I’m no advocate of violence, but I’m curious why no one as Malotov’d an ExxonMobil station. Or at least picketed.

But we don’t have a right to gasoline at low prices. That would make us Venezuela.

So, let’s start a new movement. Let’s call it, “Put it in P!” No, wait. That would lead to far too many jokes at my expense.

Let’s call it, “Put it in Park!” That’s right. Don’t drive. Walk. Take the bus. Ride your bike. Work from home (talk about casual Fridays!).

Are you with me?!?!? Let’s GOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Wait, aren’t y’all coming? Where’d everybody go?

Pussies.

More Radio Silliness

After listening to the stupid Republican chick (I know, Department of Redundancy Department), on the radio this morning, I decided to switch to a different station for the short drive to the grocery store.

A female caller was on the air, asking one of the DJ’s for the name of the doctor who had prescribed his sister some new diet drug, which apparently shrinks you to a size 2 while you’re getting your nails done. Since most doctors apparently won’t prescribe this drug, the DJ thought it best not to give out the name.

He suggested she try her regular doctor. Her response? “I would, but I’m afraid she would just tell me to . . . exercise.”

I’m sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you with that éclair in your mouth.

Radio Free Dipshit

Morning radio has never been of much interest to the post-adolescent. But given my arrested development, I have faithfully tuned in to one or the other, trying to keep my mind full of the latest pop culture markers.

With all the cool music on iTunes, and my newly activated Sirius subscription, I find that I don’t need morning radio anymore. Unless I’m in the OTHER car. The one WITHOUT the satellite hookup. Today, it was necessary that I drive that car. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a wonderful, lovely, luxury sedan, mind you. It’s not a chore to drive it. It’s just not my daily ride.

I had endured a bit too much of the morning show on the pure pop station. The “um, er, like” conservative sorority girl’s knee jerk Christian-Republicanism metastasized into a really bad rap, set to Ludacris’ “shake your moneymaker” as an ode to John McCain.

“Vote for John McCain, Like somebody bout to pay ya.” What? Thefuck. She goes on to give a name check to Reagan (can someone PLEASE explain why all Republicans think Reagan was the shit? I truly don’t get it.) and tries unsuccessfully to rhyme some more words to the throbbing beat.

This was apparently a response to Ludacris’ song “Obama is Here.” My first thought was “girl, please.” Then I realized that I secretly (or not so secretly) hope that ALL Republican response is that lame. Maybe then we can effect some change up in here.

Or maybe I just need to activate the satellite in that car.