I Voted Today

Semper Fidelis

The family went to the airshow Sunday. It FREAKING rocked. The sound of fighter planes is awesome - old school wrath of God definition. This is the first one we’ve been to since the War on Terror began, and it made me feel differently than the simple carnival the airshow was when we weren’t at war. Back then it was easy to push aside the fact that these are killing machines, and see them as very loud acrobats. Sunday, I was a ball of emotion. I was excited by the precision of what the Blue Angels were doing, and comforted that these guys’ protect our ground forces, making sure more of our soldiers come home. At the same time I imagined how terrifying and frustrating the constant roar of these jets must be when you’re on the other side.

I looked around a lot. I saw a microcosm of what I was just talking about in the Marines playing usher, not letting anyone into certain areas of the flight line. One of them was 19. He’s been a marine for a grand total of seven months. It’s physically impossible for anyone to look more like a Midwestern farm boy than Lance Corporal McLaughlin did. He was talking to some of the crowd about what it’s like to be in the Marines, sounding like the doofus 19 year old kid that he is – just be where you’re ‘sposed to be when your ‘sposed to be there, and it’s not that hard. Then someone tried to ignore the big orange cones, the young Marine, and his side arm, and walk across the restricted area. In the space of a breath John Boy disappeared and Corporal McLaughlin showed up leaving no doubt that walking into the restricted area was an actual rule and not just a guideline. On the one hand I wish this kid could be in college, getting drunk and chasing girls, without the pressure of knowing he might be called on to kill or be killed on a whim. On the other hand that’s what he does, and I’m sure he finds time to chase girls. I’ve known only a handful of Marines, but they all agree it’s the best thing they’ve ever done. At the end of the show I wished that I had joined the Marines. But then I remembered that being where I’m ‘sposed to be when I’m ‘sposed to be there has never really been my thing. Thank God for the fighting men and women of the US Armed Forces. If I had to defend the country when would I find time to blog?

Sarah, Sarah, Storms are Brewing In Your Eyes

Would the above video have been any more of a WTF moment if she was decked out in orange/camo hunting gear? I haven't had long hair since...well ever, but even I know that some Paul Mitchell product, the size of a dime, would take care of whatever is going on with her hair. Start at the (split)ends and work your way up. This ends the Tim Gunn portion of this post.

I have no idea what I did to please whatever god it is that has brought Sarah Palin into my life, but I'm glad she's here. And thank God for the RNC's fashion budget. I'm in love with the new second half of Showgirls Nomi Malone Sarah Palin. She's batshit crazy and she kills stuff. I'm not voting for her, but I really do hope that she can keep it together and not utter any racial slurs until the election is over. I want her to head the RNC. I want to see her try to convert Barney Frank by flirting with him on Hardball. I want to laugh at Chris Matthews while he sits behind his desk, not daring to stand up because something else is standing up. When she has a gameplan that she understands and is prepared she's flawless. She's Ronald Reagan. I want her turned loose as a charming Ann Coulter - the bonus is that Ann Coulter will become redundant and go away. The flood wiped away the dinosaurs 6,000 years ago, fine. Homosexuality can be "cured", no problem. God hates captial gains taxes more than man's inhumanity towards man, whatever. All I want is 15 minutes of Meredith Viera trying not to vomit moose meat while watching video of the governor killing and dressing said moose every week, and you've got yourself a brand new, money donating Black Republican.

We Would Have Needed a Bigger Bed

The boyo was put to sleep two years ago today, and it still sucks. I read my post from his 1st death day, and it made me sad. It didn’t make me happy at all. I miss him. In everyday life I remember him happily, even when I’m saluting his grave in my backyard. I remember all the crazy cat stuff he did that made him great, but today there is an ache. I’m sort of glad for it because I never want his place in my life completely taken up by something else. I wish he had been ten years younger so LMJ could have known him. Actually, I don’t wish he was younger; I wish cat life spans were thirty years instead of twenty. He got wiser as he got older. Aloof master of the universe would have been better than bloodthirsty super-predator with an infant running around. He would have been a great babysitter. He would have occupied most of her waking thoughts. I doubt she would be as interested in keys as she is now if there was a furry little beasty thing she could chase. She would be on a noble quest to grab that elusive tail. She would probably eat a lot of cat food though. He would let her baby handle him until it wasn’t fun anymore, and then find a place millimeters out of her reach. He would teach her the lessons of frustration, and that she wasn’t the center of the universe. It would be an honest mistake and he wouldn’t judge her for her arrogant misconception. It would be natural for her to believe she was the be all end all due to her close proximity to the actual center of the universe – him. I miss that for LMJ because she’ll never know him. We’ll have other cats, and we will love them dearly, but they’ll always be subject to the “…yeah but Mr. Kitty…” standard. I’m going to have some tuna and some chicken today for him – and a beer or two for me.

Britney Spears is Actually a More Thoughtful Lyricist than Bob Dylan

2008 is an election year. Technically, every year is an election year – someone is always running for something. But 2008 is a big election year. All the worthless turds in the House of Representatives are lying to keep their jobs; one out of three worthless turds in the Senate is lying to keep their jobs; and a Muslim terrorist is running against a Protestant cattle rustler for President. That’s pretty big. I’ve been perusing some political bulletin boards, and I’ve noticed a few things. I’m really surprised by the number of self-made millionaire, S.E.A.L., C.I.A. black operator, Nobel laureate economist, lawyers, under the age of forty, who fought in Viet Nam that seem to have a lot of free time in the middle of the day. I love that these guys – guys because chicks just aren’t stupid in this way - are from small town middle America and in their free time, when they aren’t trying to hide their fortunes from socialist Black racists, talk to their many Black Republican friends, who all willingly, yet shamefully, admit they are voting for the community organizer, strictly because of their shared racial characteristics. I only lurk, and don’t post, on these boards because I’m not going to argue with crazy people unless it’s about something important, like MMA. And these are the best places to find Photshopped pictures of Sarah Palin. There are reasonable people who frequent these boards, at least for a time. Their posts get shorter as their frustration grows, culminating in the black hole of angry bulletin board posts, “Source or fail!” Someone writes something outlandish as a fact like, “Records show Obama was a Weatherman in the sixties,” and it’s a race to see who can reply with “Source or fail!” first. I’m thinking about starting to say this in real life. When someone states something as fact that I find dubious, “Source or fail!” I’m going to be lots of fun at parties.

Party Goer: This is going to be the best Christmas ever.
LJ: SOURCE OR FAIL.

I’m also thinking about benching la cerveza and moving rum into the starting lineup. Great men get drunk on hard liquor. Source: Ulysses S. Grant, Teddy Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Harry Truman, Ernest Hemingway, Mel Gibson, Lindsay Lohan. I could go on.

After proofreading this post, I really hope I mellow out after the elections.

...and Released Back Into the Wild

Beth tagged me, which would be a problem for most couples but MJ and I have a "modern" relationship.

1. Zoe is my favorite Sesame Street monster
2. I watch a lot of Sesame Street
3. I think everyone should shave their head with a razor at least once in their life. It's cathartic.
4. I talk to myself because I'm a frickin' psycho.
5. I want to flip a smart car over.
6. Death Metal Mashup is my favorite thing on the interweb (outside of porn).

7. I'm a maverick.

8579

SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THAT'S HOLY!!! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIIEEEEE!!! STOCK UP ON CANNED GOODS!!! KATIE BAR THE DOOR!!!

At least now I have something to complain about to my grand kids.

Come 'ere son and sit down while Grampa tells ya about what it was like back in aught eight. I was a strapping young lad of 2 score minus 3 when the Dow Jones Industrial Average plummeted to 8579. We thought it was the end of the world, and if George W. Bush and the rest of the evangeli-faciscts of the day had it their way it woulda been. But thanks to a mulatto, half-muslim, half racist, inexperienced, angry, black elitest, socialist with ties to domestic terrorists and brie eating, chardonnay drinking, East Coast, limousine liberals everything turned out alright. No son, it wasn't Tiger Woods

Sarah's in Town! Sarah's in Town!

Governor Palin was in town today, and her presence made it difficult for me to park. If I wasn’t already voting for Obama, she would have lost my vote for making me trek. I rode the trolley and walked through downtown with a bunch of people hoping to see her. One guy asked me which trolley stop was closest to the Landing, which is where she was speaking. I’d parked next to this guy, and he had all the cutesy bumper stickers on his Kia SUV. He and his wife/girlfriend/companion were wearing “Sarah is My Homegirl” t-shirts (WTF does that mean?), and it surprised me when he asked me politely where to get off the train. I’d built up a whole bunch of hatred for this jackass, and I was fully prepared to jam his nose up into his neo-con pseudo-brain. YOU’RE GUN DIDN’T HELP YOU TODAY DID IT, BITCH! He was a nice guy who was excited about seeing a charismatic candidate and possible future President of the United States that he’s supporting. This is something he’s hoping he can tell his children about – Ranger, Calc, Monaco, and Oktoberfest. That’s a positive thing. Generally, people aren’t assholes. They have to be pushed. Unless they’re elected officials, and unfortunately, they’re usually the only ones we hear from. We got off the train and there was a line around the block. I felt bad because there was no way in hell this guy was going to see Sarah Palin. I don’t know where he came from, but I’m sure he didn’t pay to park and then ride public transportation downtown so he could marvel at the wonder that is the Modis building. I hope he and his fellow Palinistas that couldn’t get into the Landing found something fun to do so their trips weren’t complete wastes of time. At least he made me think about starting “Be Nice to Neo-cons week day hour". Hell, I wrote this damn post, that's enough.

The Gods Are Conspiring to Make Me Fat

I hurt myself lifting weights this morning. I wasn't even doing anything dangerous. I was just getting revved up in my chest routine when it felt like I got hit in the back of the head with a pipe or branch or some other type of heavy blunt object. I know no one actually did hit me in the back of the head because I was lying down on a bench. My ears were ringing and the base of my skull had seized up like I had been hit with a tazer. This lasted for about ten minutes before I went home. I was only an eighth of the way through my workout and I did zero cardio. I put ice on the back my head and took four Advils. That seemed to do the trick.


But then I learned about this, the Fatty Melt.

It's basically a patty melt, but instead of melting the cheese onto the burger, you stuff the burger between two grilled cheese sandwiches. This is why America is better than everywhere else. The Swiss never came up with anything cool like this.

Random Thoughts

I watched the Seminoles effortlessly crush the Hurricanes with their bare hands today, and my Dutch friend Heineken came along for the ride, so thoughts aren't really rattling around in my head as much as they are sloshing.



If Obama wins the election Hillary Clinton's political career is over, for all intents and purposes. She can continue to be a wonderful senator and statesman(person), but she's not going to run for President in 2016 when she's 69. My question is if Obama is elected is there any reason for her to continue to put up with her husband's crap? I'd be very surprised if there aren't WJC contingency plans for spending some time getting to know the governor of Alaska, win, lose or draw. She's hot, she's dumb, and she's attracted to power. How is this not in Bill Clinton's wheelhouse?



WJC: Governor(Ms. Vice President), I know how you feel about Roe v. Wade, and I'm sure there would never be another abortion if I could just see you naked.



SP: I don't know...



WJC: Governor(Ms. Vice President), this is where politics ends and doing God's work begins. Sarah, ask yourself, do you care about the unborn or not?



SP: Well, okay, if you really think it will help.



I'm guessing this conversation happens before Thanksgiving. If it happens in Washington, Hillary let's it go because she'll need Bill in 2012. If it happens in Anchorage, there's no downside to Hillary castrating Bill and making him hold his own severed junk while he bleeds to death on a sheet of ice. What New Yorker would hold it against her? Women would empathize, and men would think, "Damn! You couldn't even wait until Christmas?" Five years later the movie would be made. Dennis Quaid would play Bill. Meg Ryan would play Hillary. And Catherine Zeta Jones would play Sarah because her Welsh accent is just as jacked up as Palin's Tundra accent. Bill Clinton would direct. If you don't think there's an army of Bill Clinton clones running around in some lab in Harlem then you're just naive.