conversed

I didn’t ask for it.

But I wound up discussing politics with a seventeen year old. She said, “what was your opinion on referendum ---, I said, “referendum what?” and she said “you know the one about -----“
Me: Oh, that shit was never going to pass
She: I worked on the campaign.
Me: Who’s going to listen to you; you can’t even vote?
She: I can still go door to door.
Me: All that walking. . .[head shake]
She: You’re not a very positive person, are you?
Me: How old were you in 2000?
She: Do the math. [come to think of it, she had some attitude]
Me: I was just trying to make a point there. . .”
She: Which was . . .?
Me: . . .
She: You don’t have many friends, do you?
Me: That seems kind of like a big assumption
She: I’m just saying, you’re always here alone.
Me: Maybe I come here to be alone.
She: You would stay home
Me: Maybe I don’t know how to make coffee, and maybe I like discussing politics with naïve people.
She: You’re not very clever.
Me. You’re probably right.

the future

Politico also says that Vilsack's departure from the presidential race,

shifts much of the burden of expectations in the caucuses to Edwards, the front-runner in early Iowa polls.

Next, speculation on what effects Tom Brady's ex-girlfriend's eventual baby birth will have on the Patriots Super Bowl chances for next year.

I am so tired of 2008.

The New Republic gets Gay Married

Politico reports that the New Republic has been bought by the unwashed foreign Canadian hordes.

They also that the publication

has sought to shake off its association with the Bush administration’s pursuit of the Iraq war

If going Canadian won't do it, I don't know what will.

late bright

"I want every Joe Schmoe in a Red Sox cap to feel that there is a middle finger waiting for him!"

Whiteyana

Marcel: Indiana is the wrong name for that state.
Count: Why?
Marcel; Makes it sound like it’s owned by a bunch of Indians, and we already moved all of them to Oklahoma.
(pause)
Gilberte: Or, they’re all over in Asia, if you want to be PC about it.
Marcel: Either way, it’s not a state full of Indians.
Count: So you don’t like the name?
Marcel: Yeah, I think it should be something more appropriate, like Whiteyana.

You should. . . rock paper scissors to find out who eats the worm

You found a worm in your Top Ramen. It was small, but made the whole meal unappetizing. Gilberte will offer to rock paper scissors you to see who has to eat the worm. You don’t like the idea, but will participate, because you know that eating the worm will be harder for Gilberte than it would be for you (she’s a vegetarian). Marcy will participate as well, even though you all know that she won’t eat the worm if she loses.

Gilberte will lose, and you will tell everyone in the office about how she ate a worm.

Oh the audacity!

I was wandering around downtown San Francisco today, because that’s where I am and wandering is what I like to do when I’m here. I was sitting next to that bigass fountain at the Embarcadero, you know, the one that looks like a shit-ton of plumbing. Anyway, before I was sitting next to the fountain, there was this rather attractive girl (sunglasses too big, but backless dress) sitting next to the fountain. She was reading Barack Obama’s, The audacity of hope (which, by the way, is an awesome title; much better than “I also have a dream”.

Anyway, I’m just sitting there, in the sun, looking at this girl’s book cover, and she has the audacity to get up and move fifty feet away, sit back down, and return to her book. And I’m left thinking, that’s not an audacity of hope, but more of an audacity of fear that every innocent-looking dude sitting near you is a creep that is going to hit on you.
I decided that if that girl was going to act in her personal life as if every man around her was looking to throw it in, she’d never reach the level of trust and faith in humanity that Mr. Obama’s sublime words have to offer.

I was going to hit on her, though. Hard.

p.s. Here's a quote from this blog:

Listening to him, I feel more inspired -- more hopeful -- about this country, and politics in general, than I have in at least seven years, possibly longer. I am anxiously awaiting my bumper sticker and button from the store on his website.

Which is similar to what I think the fountain girl would have said about me, if she'd given me a chance.

You should. . . go to the Castro on Valentine’s Day

It’s not going to make you feel better about being heterosexual, or being single. But it will let you know that gay escorts are just as aggressive as straight ones (you'll encounter at least one, and maybe up to four last night). Come to think of it, is that guy an escort, or does he just think you are?

Anyway, you’ll get a nice walk in. And you’ll definitely have to stop at the Squat and Gobble. The crepes there are delish!

p.s. Did you know there's also a restaurant called the Squat and Gobble in South Carolina? How gay of them!

you should. . .find the animalinyou

You know, it’s another inane website that promotes some lameass alternative to astrology based on some short, inconclusive quiz results.

I’m a Wildcat! RRRROOOWWWRR. It’s because I claimed I was very attractive.

They readily display their disgust and boredom as it [sic] stalk off to spend solitary time sulking.

. . .

Wildcats are also incorrigible flirts and their feline mannerisms are attractive to members of the opposite sex. As a result, wildcats almost always get what they want -- plenty of pampering without the nuisance of a long-term mate.

That said, my friend Go just ate and slaughtered a ram. The wildcat in me thinks that’s a great idea. The rest of me feels full.

you should. . . watch steven colbert interview Janet Dickerson

The best part is when Colbert claims that, since Obama isn't black, he should run as a white, because "we already know black people will vote for white people, and white people will vote for white people."

The other best part is when he suggest Obama be a slave for a while, to get him street cred. But not racist slavery, he could be Al Sharpton's slave.

I laughed.

today, hard hitting editorials. . .

The New York Times Opinion pieces (behind a firewall) today are about:

1: columnist Stacy Schiff is concerned because of the lack of privacy in America. Example: Stacy's Pita Chips is able to ship chips to 133,000 Stacys. However, since she did spend the first half of the column complaining about how she didn't get her chips,

I wouldn’t be writing this if I hadn’t been cheated.

Last week the makers of Stacy’s Pita Chips — initially a Boston sidewalk operation, now a PepsiCo subsidiary — mailed out free party packages to 133,000 Americans named Stacy. I didn’t get one.

I have been a Stacy longer than most. I have bought Stacy’s pita chips on numerous occasions, at full retail. I am a serious snacker.

So where are my chips?

It sounds to me like her level of privacy is actually too high.


2. Maureen Dowd, complaining about the amount of Chick Lit in the local book store. I say, go to a better book store. I'd be more worried about the people reading US weekly.

Finally, the New York Times politics blog has the headline

Size Matters: Clinton and Obama Duel Over Crowds

Nice, if you're tired of the 1990s implications that hillary's a dyke, start using penile references to label her a dirty tranny.

i prefer irish jokes

I like this.

Some bloggers for the Edwards campaign almost maybe got fired for saying something anti-Catholic (I'm not sure what). Then they got not-fired.
The New York Times Politics Blog quotes one of the bloggers, evincing sincere surprise and regret:

My writings on my personal blog, Pandagon on the issue of religion are generally satirical in nature and always intended strictly as a criticism of public policies and politics. My intention is never to offend anyone for his or her personal beliefs, and I am sorry if anyone was personally offended by writings meant only as criticisms of public politics. Freedom of religion and freedom of expression are central rights, and the sum of my personal writings is a testament to this fact.”

I checked out this Pandagon, (which, to me, sounds like something from Harry Potter) might in my exhaustive search for vile, awful statements about how penance is for pussies, or about how Jesus slept around, or "how can someone be %100 human and %100 divine. But didn't get too far.

However, another author on the blog attacked the conservatives who attacked the bloggers' attacks on catholics.

Sheelzebub, the author, calls them:
"monkeys"
"jackals"
"pathetic"
"thugs"
again with "jackals"
and again
then, "thugs"
a "brigade of flying monkeys" I like this one, especially since it implies that Michelle Malkin is the Wicked Witch of the West
"thugs"
"no Jody Foster" (Michelle Malkin)
"mouth-foaming diva" (Ann Coulter)
one more time "thugs"


Yeah! Hate on you antipapist bitches!
(and here I mean bitches in the cool, "you guys are my bitches", way, not in any way that someone might think is offensive)

you should . . . see wordplay

Wordplay is a movie. Wordplay is a movie like Spellbound. Did you see Spellbound? It was about a subculture of endearing, lovable little dorks. In Wordplay, the dorks are still lovable, but they are all grown up, and they love crossword puzzling (also, baton twirling). Wordplay made me want to become a crossword puzzle doer. I mean, if Jon Stewart and Bill Clinton both do the New York Times Crossword, it must be cool. So I tried one.
First, you can’t access today’s New York Times crossword for free. It’s thirty-five dollars for a subscription. So instead, I got a random puzzle from the archives. At first, I was worried that the archived crossword would be from the 1920s or something, and the words would be like, “jalopy”, and “porkpie hat”, and “flappers”, but it wasn’t like that. Instead, it was boring, like most things that movies and tv shows are about (even documentaries), doing things in real life is nowhere near as cool as watching it from your couch. Just like working for the CIA probably involves a lot more paperwork and database management than Jack Bauer does, puzzling involves a lot more sitting and thinking than I am willing to accept.

Besides, I didn’t really want to hang out with those puzzle nerds anyway.

p.s. I did see two crossword puzzle ties, one crossword puzzle dress, and several puzzle-themed wall hangings. Awesome.

Yesterday, Massachusetts bashing

I think everyone may be jealous of the two entertaining powerhouses that are the Massachusetts senators. This points out all of the nasty things that the New York Times wrote about John Kerry last weekend. Wonkette finishes off the post with this:

Leibovich, of course, is just continuing the tradition of Times journalism started with the classic 1982 magazine profile, “Ted Kennedy: Stupid Fatty.”

http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif

Which is extremely funny, especially since Ted Kennedy actually is fat. But this is what makes the Massachusetts delegation so great. You have the loutish, drunken, red-faced Kennedy paired up with the beanpole Frenchified sober dandy. They't like the odd couple, like a sad string bean next to a happy-go-lucky carrot, like a pastry chef's éclair paired with a Hostess Cupcake. Sorry, Ted Kennedy reminds me of food.

All I'm saying is, I challenge any state to match both the political heft (even post election) and the sheer entertainment value of the Mighty Massachusetts Senators.

Also, Joe Biden ran in 1988 and failed miserably, so come 2024, Kerry may run again.

a scream away from dean

There are a lot of quotes like this comment (on the New York Times politics blog) about Barack Obama.

Mark my words, it will be the long-dormant 18-22 year old bloc that will give this man a boost. There’s a huge untapped potential voting group out there, apathetic because up until now, we haven’t found anyone that we feel we can trust, or who cares. Obama is that guy. One needs to only look at his profile on the college-heavy Facebook site. People are BEGGING him to run, and BEGGING to work for him.

These statements would sound very much like those about Howard Dean in 2002-2003. Part of me wants to see Barack Obama's campaign implode as badly as Dean's did.

Not because I don't like Obama. I think he'd make a great president. Too much hype just makes me malicious, I guess.

You should. . .sleep outside (also, pretend protesting, ten times more useless than real protesting)

Ok. It was definitely below freezing last night, but I thought it would be cool to sleep outside. Get out my tent and find a patch of snow, bundle myself in wool and sleeping bags and have that wonderful feeling of being in a little warm cocoon surrounded by cold cold air. I had this all planned out. First I would go to the bar with my friends. I would have a couple beers, drive me and my tent and my sleeping bag to a good spot, and set up my little arctic camp. I would feel refreshed and badass in the morning.

Instead, I got drunk and slept in a bed. I dreamed that Jennifer Garner wouldn't go out with me.

Also, Personal democracy has this account of a "Virtual March on Washington", which happened in the game, or virtual world, or whatever, that is Second Life. Wonkette then made fun of for its complete uselessness.

One of the organizers defended the event, writing,

We don't expect that this kind of event is going to have much impact on politicians (at least for a few years) but that the value in it is the energy created by getting people together, amplifying their voices, building community, and forging the new territory of progressive political organizing in virtual worlds.

But really. If i did happen to be using my free time wandering around second life, I'm sure I could find many better things to do than holding my virtual sign protesting a real war. And no matter what, if progressive political organizing in "virtual" [pretend] worlds is the goal, you would have to at least get someone with some political heft to see it. I guarantee they have better things to do.

Projectile dysfunction

I'm in Arizona today. I had to give a presentation. I felt like I should have this background for all for my Powerpoint slides. For the first slide, the background would be an enormous erect penis. Then, as the talk continued, the penis would get softer and more flaccid, until it withered away to nothing.

Anyway, that's how it felt.