I didn't think I was going to have time to write an entry today, but thanks to Joe Biden, my grocery shopping is all taken care of and with Sarah Palin putting down the blacktop sealer on my driveway, I have a few moments to sit at the computer. I live in Ohio which is either a "battleground" state or a "swing" state (depending on your news source) and the candidates are relentless and shameless in pursuit of our votes. I told Sarah we're a swing state and I added a wink and a "you betcha"; but she pulled out her rifle and told me to back off, so we're going with "battleground" for now. John McCain, on the other hand, was willing to put his lifelong commitment to being heterosexual on hold if it would get him my vote. "I'll pitch or catch, I don't care," he grumbled, "this is a crisis and we'll do whatever it takes." Barack Obama offered to review my tax returns from last year and sit with me and deduct with me and get a few exemptions for me and fight for me and knock on IRS doors for me and...I told him to shut up and just fill out the amended return. He came up with an additional refund for me but, strangely, he had it sent to my neighbor. "We need to spread it around," he told me.Sarah just finished my driveway and came in and told me that Barack Obama has been palling around with Pittsburgh Steelers and University of Michigan football players. She says he doesn't understand real Ohio sports. Joe Biden, having returned from Kroger, tossed a hunk of real American cheese at her head and now this place really is a battleground. I'll be glad when the election is over and these four stop sucking up to us here in Ohio. No, John, no, I wasn't asking you to do anything. Stand up, John.
Sarah Palin has 'gone rogue", ignoring the script and relying on her own instincts. Who would have thought that using one's own words and ideas would be a bad thing for a politician to do? But our Sarah has her own agenda, starting with recording her own pop songs. The RNC is pretty unhappy about it but here are the lyrics to Sarah's new Nashville chart topper:
Almost Heaven, West Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains Shenandoah River - That’s my kids names Named by Todd and me If we have a new one, Name it Zamboni
I’m a lone, maverick rogue In charge of me, I belong Lipsticked pitbull, hockey mama Real well-clothed, maverick rogue
These advisers gather round me Think this lady’s, a stranger to the city Want to script me, no matter how they try I prefer my own shit Made up on the fly
I’m a lone, maverick rogue In charge of me, I belong Lipsticked pitbull, hockey mama Real well-clothed, maverick rogue
I hear the voice: Real America, they love me The media just filters all the words that I say And reading my own hype I get a feelin That I should abandon John McCain, John McCain
I’m a lone, maverick rogue In charge of me, I belong Lipsticked pitbull, hockey mama Real well-clothed, maverick rogue
I’m a lone, maverick rogue In charge of me, I belong Lipsticked pitbull, hockey mama Real well-clothed, maverick rogue
My vacation in California is over but I will savor the memories of another week in that land of crazy people. I saw, or, actually, smelled the hotel manager and desk clerk smoking marijuana in a room behind the front desk. I saw a bride in a full length, traditional wedding dress traipse across a hundred yards of beach to stand with her tuxedoed husband in wet sand having their picture taken. I saw a store called "Grant's for Guns", with crudely painted pictures of handguns on the exterior and a large sign saying, "Great Halloween Ideas" (I imagined a suggestion that starts with the question, "Are you tired of gaggles of costumed trick-or-treaters on your doorstep? Well....."). I saw a man get a ticket for riding his bike on the Redondo Beach pier where there are no fewer than ten signs imploring him to "Walk Your Bike In This Area". No doubt bike walking will be the subject of a proposition in the next election there. California governs by propositions. I don't know how many there are on the ballot this year but there are numbered ones and lettered ones that go as far as "Proposition DD", leading me to believe there are at least 30 lettered ones. The one getting national attention - and national contributions - is Prop 8 which seeks to ban same-sex marriage in California. One of the arguments used to promote the proposition is that, if same-sex marriage is allowed, any church which refuses to perform such a marriage will be sued by the gays. And they'll win because of the liberal (i.e. immoral) judiciary, you betcha. Just like all those lawsuits against clergy for refusing to perform legal interfaith marriages and those lawsuits against the Catholic Church for refusing to recognize legal divorces. The most compelling argument for legally forbidding same-sex marriage is that God intended marriage to be between a man and a woman for the purpose of procreating (Proposition 9 on California's ballot is the Pro Creating Amendment). Yes, clearly allowing gays to marry will undermine this purpose and cause heterosexuals to stop having children. Or, wait, is it that denying gays the right to marry will force them into heterosexual unions, producing children like "normal" people? Either way, it is a clearly logical point. Following on this lead, I am proposing an amendment to the Constitution to ban sex outside of marriage, masturbation, contraception and childless marriages, all of which controvert God's will that marriage and sex are intended for procreation, not random, hedonistic pleasure and any variation hinders my ability to have a real marriage. They must be stopped at all costs. We must get funds from throughout the nation and we need passionate volunteers. To heck with spending money, time and energy fighting poverty, or helping people find jobs or get medical care. Forget being passionate about helping people - let's direct all that toward stopping people from being happy because their happiness makes us itchy and cranky. I feel sorry for that poor couple I saw on the beach, having their wedding degraded by knowing that somewhere in California, two homosexuals are getting married at the same time. It will probably render them unable to consummate their marriage and have babies.
I grew up along the coast of Southern California – lived here until I was 30 - but I have never ridden a surfboard. It’s not because I never got around to it like people who live in New York and have never been to the Statue of Liberty. I deliberately never surfed on a board. I prefer to body surf like a real man. I confess that one reason I didn’t board surf was that you have to buy a board and then some accessories like a tether that straps the board to your leg so that your board can drag your lifeless body to shore after a particularly rough wave. You also, for some reason, need a wet suit, I presume that's because it keeps you warm in the cold water of the Pacific. This is your first confirmation that today’s surfers are not real men; body surfers don’t need no stinkin’ wet suits. (Note: to see board surfers who are real men, watch “Endless Summer” and the early parts of “Riding Giants”, featuring surfers from the 50s and 60s.). The equipment, accessories and apparel make surfing somewhat like golf, which I don’t do either. Furthermore, when you surf on a board, you catch a wave, then fall off and get pummeled by said wave. When you body surf, you are in the wave from the start and get pummeled relentlessly without having to fall off first, which is why body surfing is superior to board surfing in the same way as luge is superior to skiing. Today my friend Marshall and I were riding the waves in Newport Beach. The waves here were bigger than the waves in Redondo were on Wednesday, which is to say that there were actual waves here: 2 – 4 feet, breaking at 12 second intervals on the SW facing beach with late night and early morning low clouds and fog, burning off by noon. Back in the day, I would have been riding the 4-footers, but I’m a little slower and less agile now, so I stick with the smaller ones. After the first round of surfing, we got out and started throwing the Frisbee. At this point my legs said, “Wait, what? You’ve been walking around beach cities all week and now you want to run after a flying disk? I’m sorry, no.” So we went back in the water to surf some more and punish the upper parts of our bodies. It was about noon and the tide was going out. As we got further out, we turned to each other and almost simultaneously said, “the undertow is really strong.” Within seconds I was out where I could barely stand up and I hadn’t gone there by choice. I started swimming directly back to the shore, without making much progress. A huge wave broke behind me and I let hit hit me and tumble me mercilessly because it was tumbling me back to safety. When I got ashore, I looked back and saw Marshall still too far out. I knew he knew what to do: just float on his back and paddle to a safer spot; but I was worried. Right then a couple of surfers just happened to be heading out to a spot near Marshall. I saw him swim to one of them and hitch a ride on the board back to shallow water. We both had recognized the danger of the strong tide and gotten out of it. It scares me to think what can happen to someone who has never been in the ocean and encounters that. I also realized that the board surfers are pretty good guys – real men I might say. (Yes, yes, I know that they could also be real women.)
I’m in the midst of my 3rd annual pilgrimage back to the beach. My sister and I sat on the sand at Redondo, looking at the ocean, listening to the waves, feeling the warm breeze, smelling the salt spray and thinking how much we missed it all. We wondered why we ever left Southern California. Oh yeah, nobody would pay me to sit on the beach. Even when I lived there, the need to pay for a house, groceries and a car to drive to the beach, kept me too busy working to actually go to the beach. And my wife and I vacationed with family who lived elsewhere because we could stay for free. Now that I am a wealthy corporate executive, living off the sweat of hard working, middle-class Joe-the-Architects in Ohio, I can afford to come back and vacation at the beach cities I used to live near and sit in my own sweat on the hot sand, doing nothing. My sister and I sat on the deck of Kincaid’s at Happy Hour, sipping $4 Happy Hour wine, eating half-price expensive appetizers like buffalo prawns and baked brie with nuts and sweet goop on it, listening to the waves lap against the pier, smelling the salt spray, watching the sun go down and thinking how much we missed it all. No, wait, when I lived here I couldn’t afford Kincaid’s, even at Happy Hour. The budget for the house, groceries and car to go out with left us about $25 a month for “entertainment”. My wife and I went out for pizza and iced tea. I drove South on the 405 from the LA airport toward Newport Beach, in the middle of five lanes of sun-bleached asphalt, bounded on either side by fried, brown foliage; up ahead were overpasses of gray concrete, with a backdrop of bluish-brown haze, all stitched together by black electric wires strung across frames of steel. I could feel the hum of traffic and electricity and see the heat shimmering off the road. I realized I was passing El Segundo as the thick odor of crude oil enveloped me and I thought how much I missed all that too. I guess when certain things are imprinted on you in youth, even the foul odor of El Segundo or the LA Harbor, they can evoke nostalgia for the idiotic joys of lazy youth from 40 years ago. I think Proust said that. Maybe I can convince the architects to give me cell phone network hookup for my laptop and I can direct their finances from just south of lifeguard station 7 on Redondo Beach from now on.
In Blue Ash, Ohio, an 89-year-old grandma was arrested for not giving some kids a football back after it landed in her yard. I live in Blue Ash, Ohio, which is a suburb of Cincinnati. I don't know these people but I have fewer than 6 degrees of separation. The football incident was a culmination of an ongoing dispute - Grandma Jester has warned the boys that they will lose their balls if she gets ahold of them. The woman has confiscated 3 or 10 of the kids' balls, depending on who you ask. It was one of the dads who called the police. Is that really the lesson he wants to teach his children? If little Jimmy came to me and said "Mrs' Jester took my football and won't give it back," I would say, "Did she tell you not to let it land in her yard?" "Yeah, but..." "Did she tell you that she would keep it if it did?" "Yeah, but..." "Yeah, but I'm sorry, it's your own fault." Bitter old people keeping kids balls that go in their yard is an American Tradition. It's part of the fabric of our great society. "Mr., can we have our ball back," is the dialog of Americana. If we lock up Crotchety Old Ball Keeper, we are no better than godless communists. Hopefully those boys are sleeping uneasily tonight, with visions of a bitter old grandma coming after them in the dark to grab their balls and never let go.
The election is coming up soon, so I need to decide who I'm voting for. I don't just pick willy-nilly, I do research. I go out and look at yard signs. Yard signs are the most important and, to me, the most influential element of our political process. Oh, I get a lot from buttons and bumper stickers, but yard signs are bigger, so I put more stock in them. As I walked around past the lake, I saw a large number of "Obama Biden" signs. By the time I reached the point where I turn back toward home, I was convinced; Obama is the one for me. But then, on the way back, I started seeing the "McCain Palin" signs and noticed that they have a nice, clean font. I was really starting to lean that way when suddenly I saw the yard sign that made up my mind for good: "Sibcy Cline - For Sale". Finally honest politicians who admit what they really are about. Not like that Barack Obama. Regarding Bill Ayers, I have heard Barack Obama explain that he has condemned the things that Ayers did as part of the Weather Underground. I have heard Obama explain that he merely served on a board with Ayers, along with prominent Republicans. However, John McCain keeps saying that "we need to have Obama fully explain the full extent of his relationship with Ayers. So, no matter what detail Obama has given, there must be something more - perhaps Obama and Ayers are secretly married and Michelle is just a front. I don't know. And I don't know what party Sibcy and Cline belong to, but it doesn't matter. They fully disclose that they are for sale - give them enough money and they will vote your way - no pesky party platform to tie them down. This November, I'm voting Sibcy Cline.
Many years ago, Gary Burbank satirized Papa George Bush with bits about “Bush Man”, a superhero parody of Batman. It was fun to write and Gary did a great GHW Bush voice. He also did H. Ross Perot perfectly, which caused all his writers to vote for Perot so we could write 4 or more years of Perot bits (which we did even though Perot lost). If Gary was still on the radio, I would be tempted to vote for McCain, just because Sarah Palin is fun to parody and her manner of speech seems easy to write ... and mock. None of the other candidates have that quality to the same extent. I have gotten a little better feel for the cadence of Barack Obama’s speech, particularly his pauses. If I were to try and write out how he would voice my previous post idea, it would be close to this: John … Governor Palin did stand up to … corrupt members of her own party … and kick them out…for which I applaud her. Uh, you…Senator…have indeed gone up against…your own party members…and I admire that. So … John…why would I stand up … and oppose those leaders of my party…whom you have reached across the aisle to…and embrace those Republicans … whom you and Governor Palin…have found to be … corrupt and wrong? It doesn’t make sense. It still needs work, but in listening to him, I realized that Senator Obama’s speech cadence is the same as that of Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. (Though Barack’s cadence may be that of Capt. Kirk, the timbre of his voice is more like Spock.) Thinking about Barack as Kirk, I noticed another thing: John McCain is Dr. McCoy: “Dammit, Barack, I’m a war hero, not an economist!” “McCain … we are beaming down … to an unexplored planet … named Alaska, where … we will meet a woman … who … serves no other purpose … than to look good.” “Dammit, Barrack, there’s one thing troubling me about this mission.” “What is it … John?” “Why am I wearing the red shirt?”
John McCain proudly talks about how he has stood up to his own party leaders and he prises Sarah Palin for opposing corrupt leaders in her own party and getting them out of office. Senator McCain challenges Barack Obama to give examples of when he has stood up to his own party leaders. Senator Obama's response should be, "John, why would I stand up against the leaders of my party whom you are reaching across the aisle to join because your party leaders are wrong and or corrupt by your own admission?"
For Blog Action Day I agreed to blog about poverty. Their site has some suggested topics for different types of blogs; they did not include humor blogs. I don’t know if they want people like me participating. I’ve written entries before about being poor but I would suck at being impoverished. I have no idea how to do it. I’ve never been in poverty, as far as I know. I say that because I know we didn’t have much money when I was growing up, but my mother always had a job and my sister and I always had food, clothes a house, TV. I never had to steal a loaf of bread to feed the family, though I did once steal a pack of cards so I could play a game. My mother made me give it back and perhaps that was the only time I went to bed hungry. As retirement age draws nearer, I really do worry about my retirement funds not being worth enough to support me and my wife. What if we can’t afford to travel? What if we can’t afford beer, or pie? Seriously, what if were homeless? That would be scary, I possess no skills or experience for that. Where would I get training? I am truly concerned about the poor and I contribute money, clothes and food to homeless shelters and food pantries. I admit that I do it partly because I hope it creates good karma that will return to help me if I’m ever on the streets. I am also ashamed to admit that I always am a little amused whenever anyone states they he or she is a “homeless advocate.” I can’t help but think that they advocate homelessness because if it ever was wiped out, they would have no job and perhaps be, well, homeless. (Note to Bill: how can “advocate” be a noun and “advocate” be a verb and why are they pronounced differently and how does one know which is which?) Finally, the Blog Action website suggests that I might donate the day's proceeds from this blog to the cause of poverty. Trust me, this blog is dedicated to being impoverished (you might say it’s a poor blog) and the Blog Action people can have all the money I make today on this site. UPDATE: So, the Blog Action people called and said, "Seriously? This is your blog about poverty? Making jokes about homeless advocates? And I said, "Well, I always make a joke of everything. I really did intend to promote poverty..." "We're trying END poverty." "Uh, yeah, that's what I meant, promote ending poverty. I advocate that." "And you didn't even make a joke about 'homeless advocates' being advocates who are homeless!" "Oh, yeah, uh, sorry I missed that one." (At this point, the person began giggling uncontrollably and I hung up.) So everyone please have some compassion for your fellow men and women. Fight against hunger , homelessness and poverty. Seriously.
I have some investments sitting at Morgan Stanley. Well, presently they are not sitting, they are doing jumping jacks, but that’s not my point. Today I received a press release from them (from Morgan Stanley, not from my stocks), announcing that Mitsubishi-UFJ Financial Group (MUFG) had “closed on a $9 billion dollar equity investment in Morgan Stanley (MS)”. Is “$9 billion dollar equity investment” a euphemism for “bailout”? The press release summarizes the major elements of the deal and goes on to say how great it will be working together (a) to keep the doors open and (2) “to enhance their global footprints”. Personally, I’m tired of hearing about carbon footprints and global footprints and would much rather think about the actual footprints I will make in the sand when I go on the vacation that I now can’t afford because the world’s financial giants have crushed my savings with the prints of their calloused and smelly feet beset by toe jam. But I digress. At the end of the press release there is a disclaimer: “Cautionary Statements Concerning Forward-Looking Information This press release contains forward-looking statements such as ‘expects,’ ‘looking forward’ and other similar words regarding the current expectations of MUFG. Such forward-looking statements are not guarantees of future performance or events and involve risks and uncertainties. Actual results may differ materially from those described in such forward looking statements as a result of various factors. MUFG does not undertake any obligation to update the forward-looking statements contained herein, or to update the reasons why actual results could differ from those projected in the forward-looking statements.” Those weasely MU FGers sure don’t want you to develop any actual expectations from what they “expect”. I read back through the release and the only words of that nature I could find were these: MUFG’s President and Chief Executive Officer, said, “We are now looking forward to working with Morgan Stanley.” However, we actually might not be; who can say? Their disclaimer was longer than their promise. The head of Morgan Stanley made far more definite statements, such as: “Today’s investment…will help us realize opportunities created by the continuing dislocation in the financial markets.” We will crush the weak and sick financial institutions. Since he didn’t say they “expect” to or “look forward” to, I assume they will actually do that. Related blogs: The "blog" of “unnecessary” quotation marks Bill Brohaugh’s comments on euphemisms PurpAnd’s various comments on investments (three separate entries – read them all). PurpAnd’s author is the husband of a friend of my sister’s daughter, so I think we are related. I “expect” to and “look forward” to meeting him someday.
A CUSTOMER ENTERS THE STOCK MARKET Mr. Praline: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint. Broker: We're closin' for recession. Mr. Praline: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about these stocks what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very boutique. Broker: Oh yes, the, uh, the Dow Jones Industrials average...What's,uh...What's wrong with it? Mr. Praline: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. It’s crashed, that's what's wrong with it! Broker: No, no, it's uh,...it's resting. Mr. Praline: Look, matey, I know a crashed market when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now. Broker: No no it's not crashed, it’s, it’s restin'! Remarkable index, the Dow Jones, idn'it, ay? Beautiful price weighting! Mr. Praline: The price weighting don't enter into it. It's stone crashed. Broker: Nononono, no, no! 'It's resting! Mr. Praline: All right then, if it’s restin', I'll spike it up! (shouting at the cage) 'Ello, Mister Dow Jones! I've got a lovely fresh cut interest rates for you if you show... (Broker completes a short sale) Broker: There, it moved up! Mr. Praline: No, it didn't, that was you profiting on a price drop! Broker: I never!! Mr. Praline: Yes, you did! Broker: I never, never did anything... Mr. Praline: (yelling and hitting the stock ticker repeatedly) 'ELLO DOW!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your 1929 alarm call! (Brings market graphs up on computer and watches prices plummet.) Mr. Praline: Now that's what I call a market crash. Broker: No, no.....No, it's a sell-off! Mr. Praline: SELL-OFF?!? Broker: Yeah! You sold the stocks, just as they was goin' up! Dow Jones indices sell-off easily, major. Mr. Praline: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That stock market definitely crashed, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged banking boo boo. Broker: Well, it’s...it’s, ah...probably pining for the tech bubble. Mr. Praline: PININ' for the TECH BUBBLE?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did it fall flat on the 8000’s the moment I got it home? Broker: The Dow Jones prefers it’s ups and downs! Remarkable index, id'nit, squire? Lovely price weighting! Mr. Praline: Look, I took the liberty of examining that market when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting over 10,000 in the first place was that it had been bailed out. (pause) Broker: Well, o'course it was there! If the government hadn't bailed out some of the brokers, it would have gone VOOM! Feeweeweewee! Mr. Praline: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this market wouldn't "voom" if you put 700 billion volts through it! It's bleedin' crashed! Broker: No no! It’s pining! Mr. Praline: It’s not pinin'! It’s passed on! This market is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet it's broker! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If the government hadn't bailed it out it’d be pushing up the daisies! It's economic processes are now 'istory! It’s off the market! It’s kicked the bucket, It’s shuffled off it's financial coil, run down the ticker and joined the bleedin' choir uninvestible!! THIS IS A CRASHED MARKET!! (pause) Broker: Well, I'd better replace it, then. (he takes a quick peek behind the counter) Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we're right out of healthy indexes Mr. Praline: I see. I see, I get the picture. Broker: I got a slug. (pause) Mr. Praline: Pray, is it profitable? Broker: Nnnnot really. Mr. Praline: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!? Broker: N-no, I guess not. (gets ashamed, looks at his feet) Mr. Praline: Well. (pause) Broker: (quietly) D'you.... d'you want to do some dollar cost averaging? Mr. Praline: (looks around) Yeah, all right, sure.
That One Political sensation I'll demean him here in this debate That One Black/Caucasian combination Let's see if I can stir up hate That One's link to terrorists just might do You know McCain but, Obama, just who are you? That One...voting for more spending Who votes for pork more than the rest? If you suckers haven't guessed: That One, son Ooh, my, ratchet up the tension When I smile and point and mention He's That One
Why do people begrudge the AIG executives a much needed rest at an overpriced spa on the beach in California? These people nearly lost their jobs and would have been out on the street with mere millions of dollars in their pockets. Running a monolithic financial institution into the ground is hard work. It causes stress and dry skin in the executives who are not just responsible for directing their own collapse, they were in charge of the collapse of a global economy. We have seen pictures in recent years of people bailing out flood waters from their homes in the gulf. I can only imagine the strain it puts on Wall Street CEO's to watch millions of taxpayers bail out their Wall Street offices. Who wouldn't need a $1,000 massage after trauma like that? I hid a microphone in one of the spa rooms. I know it is illegal, but I'm a Bill O'Reilly type of guy who believes that your right to know supersedes your right to exist. Here's what I picked up: SINGING: Hot hot hot, ho ho hos And a couple of trollop dolls That’s how we throw your cash away In Saint Regis Resort and Spas Booze booze booze Pate fois gras And a bucket of Haagen Daz That’s how we spend our bailout pay In Saint Regis Resort and Spas We failed AIG And we still got paid a ton Congress bailed us out So our pillaging is not done Gosh, this is fun Ten billion here, ten billion there Soon you’re talking a lotta moolah But half a mill isn’t much to spill In Saint Regis Resort and Spas (BOOM) MAN: It's Henry Waxman flying by on a broom with a sign! WOMAN: What does it say? What does it say? MAN: "Surrender your golden parachutes."
So Sarah Palin, God bless her, won the debate last night by speaking coherently and regurgitating the talking points she had been fed without getting any on her shoes. She made clear, persuasive points such as this:
I respect Senator Biden - hey, can I call you Joe - for standin' up there and not attacking a mom of a special needs baby, also, and cryin' 'cause your kids died or almost died and all that also. I know you openly despise Barack Obama, doncha, and ya said so on the campaign trail, that he's not fit to shine your shoes (wink), and so I respect that also. You are sorta a maverick, but not a real Republican maverick like me and my hero, John McCain. Ya never took on your own, corrupt, despicable party like we have and ya sorta support Obama now, also, doncha? You are a great man who's been a little too long in the Senate, not like my hero John McCain also. I am pretty passionate about the chance, if I am so blessed, to take over where Dick Cheney left off and add to the power of the Vice President also. That way, I can run a new Federal Department of Sayin' "Hey, Government, Get Outta Our Way, Wouldja?" also. And, doggonit, I appreciate this opportunity ta speak directly to the moms and dads sittin' around the kitchen tables in America, also. I can give them the straight talk in a maverick way, ya know, not answering the questions asked, and without my questions bein' followed up on or bein' filtered through the liberal East coast media with their "gotcha" moments and all that also. So, there ya go.
The past week for me was consumed by preparing for and attending an off-site management advance ("we never retreat!") doing strategic planning for our coming year at (company I work for).
Things it is too late to blog about: The first struggle to get the candidates for President to give direct answers to a moderator's direct questions. Paul Newman's Own death. The bi-partisan, bi-polar Congressional bailout that the Congress bailed out of. (Of course there is time for me to respond to their response to their first response.) The season premier of "Desperate Housewives", which jumped forward 5 years from last season's story lines and 6 years from when they jumped the shark. Rosh Hashana. Yes, they scheduled this company strategy meeting over a major Jewish holiday. Hey, who knew it was Tishri already? I wished them all Happy New Year and they promised to atone for this error.
What I can still comment on is tonight's Vice-Presidential debate. The New York times has presented questions they would like the candidates to answer. Here are my questions for Senator Biden and Governor Palin: 1) Hey. What's up? 2) If Barack Obama is elected President, will the House and Senate become predominantly occupied by black people as whites flee to the suburbs? As a follow up, what do you think the effect would be on the resale value of the White House? 3) Governor Palin, if you are elected, will you move to have hunting allowed around the perimeter of the Vice President's house so that you can feed your family? Senator Biden, would you move to allow it in order to pander to the NRA? 4) Do you think "Dancing With the Stars" really sucks this year? 5) Governor Palin: boxers or briefs? 6) Senator Biden, could you give us one of your insanely unfortunate, off-the-cuff responses so that we can at least get a good YouTube video out of this program?
I didn't think I was going to have time to write an entry today, but thanks to Joe Biden, my grocery shopping is all taken care of and with Sarah Palin putting down the blacktop sealer on my driveway, I have a few moments to sit at the computer.
.jpg)
