Sarah Palin's Way Off

Tag Line: “While the rest of us were just thinking about it...Sarah borrowed a political party and did it...all in a year.”

For those of you who don’t want to read “Going Rogue”, here are the SparkNotes:

Sarah Palin wakes up one day and decides she doesn’t feel like governing Alaska right then. She convinces John McCain they should spend the campaign together going off script, break the rules and seize the day.

Palin decides she will drive the high-powered Republican conservative agenda, which makes McCain very nervous. He’s not supposed to drive that agenda but he hops on board, knowing that his moderate base will be very disappointed in him.

Sarah’s day off reaches it’s peak when she takes over the Republican National Convention and sings “Obama Shame”.

Anyone who stands in Sarah's way is made to look like a fool. Throughout the journey Sarah is pursued by McCain campaign chief strategist, Steve Schmidt, who is frustrated in his attempt to reign in Palin. He tries to do the job he was hired to do, but is thwarted by Palin and ends up as a villain in the story.

Sarah’s refusal to take responsibility for the damage she does hurts those around her. The precision-engineered right-wing agenda ends up in a ditch and McCain gets blamed for it.

Despite the fact that Sarah shows total disrespect for those trying to educate her and get her on the road to real success, she comes off as the maverick hero. She is lauded for not doing things the right way, for having decided her education was not important. Her equally ignorant classmates look up to her for “Going Rogue.”

Light Up This Guy Like a Flame

Recently we watched the original, 1980 “Fame” movie about a performing arts high school in New York which was remarkable because there was only one gay kid in the entire collection of dance, theater and music students.

Montgomery MacNeil’s homosexuality is not just presented as an anomaly; he reveals it as his response to the theater class assignment, “tell us your most painful moment”. Montgomery explains to his classmates that his therapist told him the condition is “probably a life choice”. Monty morosely relates that he is “getting a lot of help” and he is amused by the irony of being “gay” when it dooms him to a life of never being happy. His parents were divorced and he tells about going someplace with his mother, where it was “like we were lovers.” What!? The creepy factor totally obscures the outdated implication that not having a male role model may have led him to his “life choice”.

This was the attitude about homosexuality 30 years ago; imagine what the attitudes were a decade earlier – when I was in junior high school.

When I was 13, we had a sex education assembly at school. Dr. Agee talked about many things including that then taboo subject. We were all giggling, when suddenly she said something that hit home. And this is the only thing I remember her saying that day: “it is unclear how homosexuals get that way, but one theory is that boys who grow up in female dominated households become gay”.

My parents were divorced and I lived with my mother and older sister. Sitting through the rest of that lecture in a cold sweat, I realized that female domination was like a poison, slowly turning me gay. Back in the 60’s, we didn’t have any gay, prime-time role models like Elton John or Rosie O’Donnell or even movie characters like Montgomery MacNeil. All we had was Liberace - and they didn’t acknowledge his sexuality. I would ask my mom, “Why does that man dress all sparkly and talk funny like that?” She wouldn’t answer me, she’d just switch the channel to Gomer Pyle USMC, and say, "There, watch that Jim Nabors fella. He’s a Marine."
(Surprise, surprise, surprise, when it turned out Jimbo was gay.)

So my family situation was making me gay and I didn’t know exactly when it would happen. It could happen slowly, or the swish might be flipped overnight.
The fact that the girls in school, sporting their new, perky breasts in soft, fuzzy sweaters caused me to have an erection did not entirely reassure me. I was 13 years old – the mechanism was still getting calibrated - a bowl of oatmeal could give me an erection. I needed a way to know for sure what I was.

So, what I did, I kept a stack of Playboy magazines under my bed and I would periodically test myself to see if I could still have a “complete” experience with the centerfold. There were frequent pop quizzes. One day I did 12 separate tests – January through December – all home runs -- but as I started through the batting order a second time, my fears were confirmed. No reaction. I tried holding the magazine in the other hand. Nothing

The next day I pulled out the magazines to say goodbye and, I don’t want to go into detail, but clearly I was hetero again. Apparently it switches back and forth. That’s what that one guy told me in college.

Nevertheless, the rest of my life, despite my lack of attraction to men and despite my positive experiences with women (including marrying one and fathering another) I still have lingering doubts and I look for signs.

The things that worry me are:
I don’t fix my own car or even change own oil
I don't read in the bathroom and I often pee sitting down.
My life is still dominated by women.
I still REALLY like oatmeal – I don’t know what that means.

The main thing that proves that I’m a heterosexual man is that I have retained the skills I developed with those Playboys: my hands are strong and I can work a remote -105 cable channels in a 5 minute commercial break and back to the show I’m watching, without missing a second, baby.

The shows I watch now have more openly gay characters than those we saw in the 60s or even the 80s. I haven't seen the new "Fame" movie; I hope it has a more enlightened portrayal of gay people. In the United States today, a lesbian can grow up to be the daughter of a (former) Vice President. However she can't marry her mate. Maine just became the 31st state to officially reject same-sex marriage.

Baby hold me tight
Cause you can make it right
You can shoot me straight to the top
Give me love and take all I've got to give

I feel it coming together
Let us give marriage a try
Gay!

6-Year-Old Missing! But Don't Worry, It's No One You'd Care About.

NBC, msnbc.com and news services
updated 13 minutes ago
FORT HARLEM. Colo. - After the runaway legal charges against the media riveted the nation and led to a frantic photo opportunities by authorities who feared a 6-year-old child was getting undue attention, the focus on Friday turned to whether the entire drama was an elaborate public attention-deficit disorder symptom.

The drama began Thursday morning when Roberta Watkins called police to report that a neighbor had seen her son taken off the street by a man driving a battered Oldsmobile 88. Tapes of the 911 call captured the subdued pleas of the mother as she politely requested police to try and find the vehicle and her son.

WATKINS: Can you help me find the boy?
911 OPERATOR: Look, we’d like to help, but there’s been budget cuts and layoffs and we just don’t have the manpower. I’ll put out a call, and as soon as the officer’s get back from following that kid in the balloon, we’ll send someone out.
WATKINS: Kid in the balloon? What the hell are you talking about?
911 OPERATOR: Oh, for Christ’s sake! Turn on a T.V., woman!

Watkins tuned in to coverage of the search for the Balloon Boy, which prompted her to contact the local television news stations in nearby Fort Collins. Tapes subpoenaed by the network news to later try and cover their own asses, show that the local reporters did take a call from Watkins. Those tapes were played on the Today show as reporters defended themselves against the subsequent legal charges.

WATKINS: Can you send news helicopters to help search for my boy, like you did for that other child?
NEWS DESK JOCKEY: Really? A kid in a car? A story with an experimental, homemade balloon has legs. A car I can’t use. Besides, I mean, a balloon, we can follow. You want us to look for a car?
WATKINS: It’s a battered Oldsmobile 88. There ain’t many of them around since “Cash for Clunkers.” It oughta be easy.
NEWS DESK JOCKEY: How many kids you got?
WATKINS: Thirteen.
NEWS DESK JOCKEY: Really? Are they all adopted refugees? Or do you have any sets of quintuplets or higher?
WATKINS: Why?
NEWS DESK JOCKEY: Newsworthy doesn’t start any lower than 5 at a time now; and even that’s passé. Eight is more of the threshold these days. Have you ever been on a reality show for any reason?
WATKINS: No. The building next door has been. Some gay dudes from the ‘burbs bought it and their whole remodeling project is on some cable show on “Logo” or “Lego” or some crap.
NEWS DESK JOCKEY: Really? Bravo would be better. I don’t know, maybe we can use that as a hook. We can’t just put stuff on the news, you know. It has to get ratings. Let me check with my bosses.

Watkins enlisted neighbors to start searching for her son. When neither police nor media showed up to help, she remembered something she had picked up in a local hair salon. It was the business card of Al Sharpton, with a phone number and the message: “Sometimes the system is fucked up and shit needs to be stirred. Call me, if you need me.”

Watkins called Sharpton, who engaged Bernard Siegal, the attorney who then brought charges of child neglect and child endangerment against the Fort Collins local television stations and all network and cable news behemoths. Siegel also sued the entire American viewing public for conspiracy to ignore a helpless child in trouble. A media event was arranged, and thus, ironically, the defendants in the lawsuit reported on their own perp walk.

This morning on “Today” Matt Lauer, Meredith Vieira and Ann Curry interviewed each other about what they called “unwarranted allegations” brought against them.

LAUER: The boy wasn’t even cute.
VIERA: Nor exceptionally bright. Or handicapped.
CURRY: What were people supposed to identify with? What would pull at their heartstrings?
LAUER: And it turned out to be nothing. His father had picked him up to take him somewhere to do something.
VIERA: His mother just goes, “Oh yeah, the boy’s daddy does come around sometimes. I didn’t know he had a car, so I didn’t know it was him.”
CURRY: And to top it off, it wasn’t even an Oldsmobile! It was a Chevy!
LAUER: Anyway, the whole thing was local news responsibility. We’re in the clear.

The American public has stated that, “The balloon boy story came up first. There’s only so much we can invest our empathy in and there’s only so many ribbons we can stick on our cars. Hey, look! We’re on the Today Show!” They then filed a counter suit against Collins for defamation of character. A judge today threw out that claim for lack of evidence.

MSNBC reporters charged that the story was a hoax started by the 911 operator in order to get funding for more police officers in Fort Harlem. The operator has appeared on Hardball, Countdown, and various other news shows, talking about the controversy. Fox News has passed off the ordeal as just another example of the “Obama Nation” trying to control the media and destroy free speech. CNN, meanwhile, ran 12 hours of coverage for the new hit movie, “Paranormal”.

This reporter had eaten a bad burrito the day before and has been in the bathroom the entire time, so don’t look at me.

Christmas With Bob Man

At my daughter's Bat Mitzvah service, I read some lyrics from "Forever Young". I told her they were from the great Jewish poet Robert Zimmerman because she didn't like Bob Dylan - well, she didn't really know if she liked Bob Dylan or not, because she couldn't get past his voice.

That's so unfair. Do I tell her that Dane Cook is a lousy comedian because he's not funny? (Yes, I do). But people shouldn't put artists in a box; who's to say what "good" singing is? Bob Dylan is the voice of the people and the people are raspy and untrained.

The great Jewish poet Robert Zimmerman now has a Christmas album out. I was alerted to this by al in la (his name is Al and he lives in LA).

When Gary Burbank was alive, I used to write songs for his radio character, Bob Man, who sounded a great deal like Bob Dylan. Coincidentally, Bob Man has a Christmas album coming out also. Here are a couple samples:



BOB DYLAN'S WHITE CHRISTMAS DREAM:

While riding on a train going west,
I fell asleep for to take my rest.
I dreamed a dream that featured snow,
On a white Christmas like the ones I used to know.

With icy leaves, the tree tops glistened
For sleigh bell sounds, the children listened,
Ten thousand dollars for your days to be bright
I’d give that, to make your Christmases be white.


BALLAD OF A FROSTY MAN

You run down the streets of town
With your broomstick in your hand
Though the sun is baking
You say, "Let’s laugh and play, man."
A cop says stop
But you pass his raised hand
Are you fairy tale
Or a jolly soul?

Because, something is happening here
Since that hat went on your head,
Frosty, man of snow.


Given the mess of Christmas, Judaism, and Dylan in my history, the Bob Dylan Christmas album would make an excellent Christmas or Hanukkah gift from my daughter, don't you think?

(The "Hard Snow" album cover is not mine, it's from here.)

If you don't know the tunes, you can listen here:

LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT!

A friend of mine told me a story about her daughter and the son of a neighbor playing together when they were 3 or 4 years old. The two mothers went to check on the kids and found them both naked, with the little boy trying to insert a toy car into the little girl in, um, a place he would not have found on another little boy.

My comment to my friend was “whenever you put together a boy, a girl, and a car, you’re going to have trouble.”

That was the theme of movies and songs in the early rock and roll era when I was growing up. Boys and girls have been a dangerous mix throughout music history but the tragic third element that sparks death varies based on genre. In folk and old-time country music, if your sweetheart wants to take you down by the river, don’t go; I’m just sayin’. In blues and jazz music, there’s no escape; your lover will hunt you down with a gun (see “Frankie and Johnny”).

But in rock and roll, scientific studies prove that death comes by motor vehicle 95% of the time. I recently read someone else’s blog entry about sad songs. One commenter said that the saddest song was “Last Kiss” by Pearl Jam. The really sad part was that this person was so young she did not know that was a cover version of the original from the early 60s, the heyday of the teen death rock and roll song.

“Last Kiss” falls into the category of “boy and girl together in the car”. In that scenario, the girl is a passenger and she always dies. “Teen Angel” is the earliest “hit” I could find in this sub-phylum. In that song the boy doesn’t kill the girl through reckless driving; instead, the girl, stupefied by love (as teen girls always are) runs back to the stalled car to get the boy’s class ring and is hit by a train. (Note: The class ring was symbolic of true love, "going steady", in 1960). But we are left to wonder: Why had she taken the ring off? Had they been fighting? Did he kill her, park on the tracks and then make up the story about her running back to the car? Was his last name Peterson?

The ring element makes a nice link between “Teen Angel” and “Tell Laura I love Her”. The difference is that “Tell Laura…” belongs to the sub-phylum “Love-sick boy alone in vehicle ends up dead.” Tommy wants to buy Laura “everything” which is comprised of “flowers, presents (and) a wedding ring.” If only he had had the good sense to get a job. Instead he enters a stock car race to win a prize, but crashes and dies. I know the lyrics sound hokey when you read them, but if you have ever seen Sha Na Na do this song live… for the last verse they form the chapel where Laura prays and the music swells … “alone in the chapel she can hear him cry….” … it still brings chills, just thinking about it. This is my favorite teen death song.

A few years later the Shangri-las recorded a love-sick boy death song, which again involves both a ring and a vehicle, but in this case it’s death on a motorcycle. "Leader of the Pack" is wholly unbelievable in its premise: the girl’s parents tell her has to break up with the boy and she just complies. In real life she would have snuck out to hook up with him and gotten pregnant – possibly later throwing the baby off the Tallahatchie Bridge. Anyway, in this song, he drives off, crashes and dies.

There is much debate among students of teen death music about "Leader.." It states that Jimmy was "from the wrong side of town". Is this a code for inter-racial coupling? (Worse than teen pregnancy in the 1960s). The question stems from the girl's friends asking "whatcha mean when ya say that he came from the wrong side of town?" Some scholars postulate that the friends were just "total ditzes" because they just don't seem to comprehend simple declarative statements, such as, "My dad said, "Find somebody new", to which they respond "whatcha mean when ya say that ya better go find somebody new?" Further support for the ditz theory comes at the beginning of the song when the friends ask each other, "is she really going out with him" when everybody at school knows about the relationship and Jimmy's death.

The "accident" is also controversial; was his vision just clouded by tears or did he deliberately crash? The same question can be asked about Laura’s Tommy. “No one knows what happened that day, how his car overturned in flames.” Numerous literary studies have postulated about this. Was Tommy losing the race and so saddened that he could never afford the flowers or presents, let alone the ring, that he wrecked his car on purpose? Was there an insurance policy naming Laura as his beneficiary? (Evidence: “it was just for Laura he lived and died”) Was he just driving a crappy car that burst into flames and overturned spontaneously? (Evidence: he couldn’t afford flowers so he couldn’t afford a good car). My theory is that he was killed by God for having pre-marital sex with Laura (Evidence: “Laura and Tommy were lovers”). Undoubtedly they had sex in the back seat of that very same car he died in, which is why it burst into flames. She went to the chapel to ask forgiveness for her sin, which is what Tommy should have done instead of giving in to greed (another deadly sin!) There may be a clue about the lyrics in this reenactment.

By the mid-sixties the boy/girl/car death songs were dying out. In the late 60s and 70s drugs became a bigger part of the music and overdose the more favored means of death. Now would be the time for a return of the car death genre, only now it would go something like this:

Laura and Tommy were lovers
That’s what everybody read
“Laura is in a relationship”
That’s what her Facebook status said.

Tommy also declared his love
While driving his car around the street
He had a cell phone and a Twitter account
So here’s what Tommy tried to tweet:

@Laura: I <3 u
@Laura: I need u
@Laura: do not cry, my <3 4 u will never di….

And, of course you would be able to download a “ring” tone of the song.

B double-E R S U double-M I T - Beer Summit!

Today is the big beer summit at the White House. You might think that, if President Obama were going to try and resolve something over drinks, he might be sitting around with key Democratic and Republican legislators trying to get a deal done on health care.

But President O stumbled into the briar patch of a black Harvard professor being arrested by a white Boston cop and now we have to deal with the racial implications as a nation.

As the Daily Show advised: “Alcohol is not how you resolve a racial incident, it’s how you start one.” We already have disagreement on the choice of beer. “Obama is opting for a Bud Lite, while Gates is said to be partial to Red Stripe from Jamaica. Crowley's preference is for Blue Moon, a Belgian-Style beer, made by Coors.”

Ironically, George Bush was the politician that Americans purportedly would prefer to have a beer with. I would have guessed the Big O was a wine drinker, but he’s trying to shake the image of “elitist prick, turning us into Europe”, so he’s been chowing down on hamburgers with Joe Biden and now drinking Bud Lite.

Still, you know this will not start out well.
CROWLEY: All due respect, Mr. President, we have some other fine beers that would provide a little more taste. Blue Moon from Coors or even Sam Adams from my home town.

GATES: You impress me, Officer Crowley. I would have thought Bud Lite was a staple for you.

CROWLEY: What? Because I’m a cop? Wouldn’t you call that “profiling”? Huh? You wanna ask me if I’m gonna dunk a doughnut in my beer?

GATES (SMUGLY): It was merely that I thought that Bud Lite was preferred by you and your peers.

CROWLEY: “My peers”? Is that like saying “you people”? I got as much class as any Harvard professor and I know some good beers. I thought you and “your peers” would be Colt Malt Liquor men, but I can also see where you go for that reggae Red Stripe crap from Jama….

GATES (jumping up): If you say “Jamaica, mon”, I will #@$% you up!

OBAMA: Gentlemen, gentlemen! Crowley, put the handcuffs back. Don't be stupid!

ANNOUNCER: Bud Lite presents, Real Men of Genius

SINGER: Real men of geeen-ius

ANNOUNCER: Today we salute you, Mr. Racial Incident Inflamer

SINGER: Mr. Racial Incident Inflamer

ANNOUNCER: Thanks to you we don’t need Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton showing up, making long speeches about lingering racial hatred. We don’t have to listen to Jesse try to rhyme his way through a puffed-up, publicity-seeking, press conference.
You can throw out a few ill-advised comments at the end of a totally unrelated press conference and turn what should have been a short-lived, isolated incident into a national cause célèbre … with beer.
So here’s to you, Mr. Racial Incident Inflamer. Thanks to you, Fox News, MSNBC and CNN have filler for their 24-hour $#!% stirring festivals.

SINGER: Mr. Racial Incident Inflamer

ANNOUNCER: Bud Lite beer, Anheuser-Busch, St. Louis, Missouri.

Sing a Wrong Song

I grew up in L.A. and never went to a summer camp. We had to make do. For crafts, our parents (or step-parents or parent's life partners) would have the immigrant gardener or maid make us some turquoise jewelry or hand-woven baskets.

In place of ghost stories, we would sit in a circle late at night and describe plastic surgery disasters. (WARNING: I didn't link to any of those pages directly because I still have nightmares about some of them).

Instead of singing around the campfire we would gather in Laurel Canyon during brush fire season and sing with Joni Mitchell and all them, while the caterer toasted chocolate truffle s’mores served on organic graham biscuits, infused with Acapulco gold.

So, since I don't really know the Music Day at summer camp drill, for my fellow humor bloggers sitting around the flickering computer screen, I offer some examples of the songs I have recently stolen from actual writers.

What would summer camp be without hot dogs?

Hot dogs, Armour hot dogs
What kind of kids eat Armour hot dogs
Fat kids, sickly kids
Vegans have an answer:
Poor-ly - nourished kids
Kids with colo-rectal cancer
Hot dogs, Armour hot dogs
The dogs we warned about!

Sarah Palin is taking Summer vacation seriously - by quitting altogether:

Take this job and shove it, I don’t wanna work no more
Sarah Palin done quit and gave me the reason I was looking for
Don’t wanna just be collectin’ my pay
You’re the one I’m doin’ this for
Take this job and shove it, I don’t wanna work no more"

This summer we may be seeing a comeback from this long winter of our discontent:

What have you done my stockbroking son?
And what did you do with my retirement fund?
I sold mortgage-backed securities without regulation
I crippled the credit of large corporations
I ruined economies of world power nations
I stumbled on the slide of inflated earnings
I pumped up the bubble until it was bursting
And it’s the Dow, it’s the Dow, it’s the Dow, it’s the Dow
And it’s the Dow Jones a-gonna fall

It's about time to bunk down, so I leave you with this:

Deep down in Cincinnati where the boy has been
Since he moved to the Midwest from the L. A. scene -
What jerk would choose Ohio over Hollywood?
Just a "special" kind of dork named "JohnnyB" could
He never ever learned to really write so well
And for ripping off songs, he is going to Hell
Go! Go .... go, already!

As American as Lawsuits, Jersey Crooks and Cancer-Causing Processed Meat Products

A vegan advocacy group wants a New Jersey court to order Oscar Mayer, Hebrew National and other food companies to slap a warning on hot dog packages which says that eating processed meats increases the risk of cancer.

I had a number of random thoughts about this story.

Hot dogs already carry a warning label. It’s the list of nutritional information. 1 hot dog (and no one eats just one) contains 150 calories, 120 from fat and 30% of your daily saturated fats. I think your arteries will explode before any cancer cells have a chance to start on your colon.

The story refers to a “vegan advocacy group.” What do vegan advocates want? Homeless advocates would like to reduce the number of homeless people. I have to assume vegan advocates want to reduce vegancy, and therefore should be promoting meat eating.

The vegan advocates go by the name “Cancer Project”, which seems to me like they are hiding their real agenda. That’s like the national beef council going by the name … um … “Cancer Project”. What are the vegans hiding? The names Oscar Mayer and Hebrew National so high on their hit list, perhaps they have anti-Semitic leanings.

Hebrew National has long claimed that they answer to a higher authority than the US government. That authority is Conagra Foods (current owners of the Hebrew National Brand) who give orders to the government.

The lawsuit is in New Jersey. The Feds just busted a bunch of people in New Jersey, politicians and rabbis who are charged with, among other things, illegal human organ-selling. I don’t want to think there is a connection between New Jersey, rabbis selling human organs and Hebrew National hot dogs.

America has a National Hot Dog and Sausage Council. We have no national health care, but we have a National Hot Dog and Sausage Council. Okay, they are a food industry lobby, not a government agency. But at least they have the decency to put what they’re about in their name.

The reporter got some valuable quotes from random hot dog advocates, like this: "Vegans complaining about hot dogs is like the Amish complaining about gas prices," said Susan Thatcher of Irvine, Calif. No, Susan, Vegans complaining about the price of hot dogs would be like the Amish complaining about the price of gas. Vegans complaining about hot dogs causing cancer would be like the Amish complaining about gas emissions from cars causing cancer.. Hmmmm.

Once the warning label lawsuit is won, this will be the new ad for Armour hot dogs:

Hot dogs, Armour hot dogs
What kind of kids eat Armour hot dogs
Fat kids, sickly kids
Vegans have an answer:
Poor-ly - nourished kids
Kids with colo-rectal cancer
Hot dogs, Armour hot dogs
The dogs we warned about!

By the way, here's a scene from the next Seth Rogan, Katerine Heigl romantic comedy:

"Hey, would you be interested in a nice hot kosher weiner?" "Thanks, but I have a thing for pork."

Take This Job and Shove It

“(Sarah Palin) said she had decided against running for re-election as Alaska's governor, and believed it was best to leave office even though she had two years left to her term.”

The woman quit half-way through the job she asked for and made it sound noble:

“Many just accept that lame duck status, and they hit that road. They draw a paycheck. They kind of milk it. And I'm not going to put Alaskans through that,” she said.

Because, of course, those were her only two choices: resign or just sit around the Governor’s mansion eating moose jerky and following John McCain on Twitter. Actually taking care of the state’s business would be too much to ask of someone who wasn’t doing it in order to get reelected.

“I really can’t work up a good goddam for the state of Alaska anymore and I didn’t want to disappoint all y’all, so, screw it. The Lieutenant Gov can have this shit,” she explained

Don’t misunderstand me, I admire what she did. I would do it if I could. “Boss, a lot of guys my age just start coasting toward retirement, phoning it in and delegating all their work to others while they go to seminars and conventions paid for by the company. I don’t want to do you that way. What don’t you understand? Here, let me put it in a song, see if that helps.

Take this job and shove it, I don’t wanna work no more
Sarah Palin done quit and gave me the reason I was looking for
Don’t wanna just be collectin’ my pay
You’re the one I’m doin’ this for
Take this job and shove it, I don’t wanna work no more"

I can’t do that. Why? Because I don’t have other options. Palin does. Palin is a schemer who knows there is more money, power and influence for her if she gets out of Alaska and comes to America. And she quit now because (unless she is avoiding some major scandal that was about to bring her down) she is going after that stuff before it slips away.

Palin famously compared her hockey-mom self to a pit bull. A pit bull is a dog that will bite you and never let go. If Sarah Palin is a pit bull who had Alaska politics by the ass, what she just did is like the dog saying “Hey, heck with this ass, I smell bacon,” and dropping them.

Hey Baby, How Much Would it Cost Just to Get My Lines Crossed?

UPDATED

The other day Mark Sanford revealed that he had been involved with other women besides his mistress, but it was no big deal because

"There were a handful of instances wherein I crossed the lines I shouldn't have crossed as a married man, but never crossed the ultimate line," he said.

This prompted me to try and call him once again to see if he really is a big hypocrite of if he's just a misunderstood profligate miscreant. Once again I got put on hold.

You have reached the office of the Governor of South Carolina. The governor is tied up right now but the dominatrix involved is just teasing him and it's all quite innocent. Please hold and listen to our musak.

I keep a loose hold on these vows of mine
I keep my options open all the time
I keep a mistress and an open mind
A couple times
I crossed the line

I find it very, very easy to construe
My infidelity as sort of being true
I’ve been with other women, but we didn’t screw
A couple times
I crossed the line

You have reached the office of the Governor of South Carolina. The governor is is busy celebrating the fact that Sarah Palin may have done something that will take the spotlight off of him. Please hold and listen to our musak.

One poke over the line, sweet Jesus
One poke over the line
Slippin' out of town for a sex liaison
One poke over the line

I hung up at that point.

South Carolina Leadership on Hold

Last night “Dr. Strangelove” was on TMC. The premise is that a rogue general sends bombers to destroy the USSR and hilarity ensues. It came out in 1964, as did the very similarly premised “Fail Safe", which disappoints, as it fails to find the comedic angle on the nuclear bombing of Moscow and New York.

Thinking about these movies and the fun we had under the constant fear of nuclear war with Russia, and also watching the news yesterday, I became nostalgic about a couple books I read back when the world was young and the war was cold.

One was “Vanished” about some Presidential advisor who vanished and got everyone’s shorts in a wad until it turned out he was off solving the Cold War (if I remember correctly). (Oh my god, looking at the cover just stimulated the memory of my teenage response to the hot sex going on in the story - but I cared only for the political intrigue. Right.)

There was also “The President’s Plane is Missing”, by Rod Serling’s brother, in which the President disappeared and got everyone’s shorts in a wad until it turned out he was off solving the Cold War (if I remember correctly).

With these memories in my head, I had high hopes for a n intriguing revelation about where South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford was for the past week. But, no, he had not gotten Korea to stop their nuclear program nor overturned Iran’s fraudulent election. He was just off violating his marriage vows with some hot tamale, the way so many other ordinary American dads spent their Fathers Day.

He stood up there and did the obligatory confession/apology; however, he did not force his wife to join him. Why? Because the confession/apology with the loyal wife on the side has become a cliché.

Cliché: noun
3. anything that has become trite or commonplace through overuse.

Scandal laden politicians, caught doing the evil deeds they have previously denounced, have become so redundant they have to change up the obligatory public expiation just to hold audience interest.

Mark Sanford’s tale did have some appealing aspects: the fact that he was missing for a week, the story about hiking miles on the Appalachian Trail turning into a story about humping Maria, some Argentinan tail and the obvious jokes about crying for that country.

I was moved enough by all that to try and call Sanford and ask him how he got himself into this. This is all I got:

You have reached the office of the Governor of South Carolina. Your call is very important to us. But not to the Governor, just like he doesn’t care about his job or family. He’s off God knows where. Please hold and listen to our musak.

I cried to leave Argentina
I broke my promise
Can't keep my mistress.

You have reached the office of the Governor of South Carolina. The Governor can’t come to the phone right now, he’s on another woman. Please hold and listen to our lovely muzak.

Maria!
I've just nailed a girl named Maria,
And suddenly the name
Of my wife escapes my brain
Who's she?

You have reached the office of the Governor of South Carolina. Your call will be answered in the order in which you were deceived. Please dangle on the line we are feeding you and listen to our musak.

How do you get your freak on with Maria?
How do you slink away to party down?
How do you get it up to do Maria
While screwing your job and family back in town?

Marriage and fam’ly you told us should be sacred
Clinton lied and you took a moral stand
How do you go get laid
And piss on your Fathers Day
How can your moral compass be your gland?

I miss the cold war.

Selling an Apple a Day Means the Doctor Gets Paid

Did Steve Jobs’ wallet help cut transplant wait?

Now you say you’re before me
In the transplant queue
Well I can buy me a liver, buy me a liver
I got a liver over you

I can’t say that I’m sorry
The health system's askew
'Cause I can buy me a liver, buy me a liver
I got a liver over you

Need to move up on the donor list? We've got an app for that!

Trouble With a Capital T and A

Cincinnati battled Larry Flynt.
The Queen City took on Robert Mapplethorpe.
We have established, time and again, that that sex stuff belongs in Newport, Kentucky, not in River City.
So how did Kenny Tessel think he would get away with the sex display in front of his business?

You will recall Kenny and his girlfriend BarBe Q from a recent post. Wednesday night, BarBe, dressed in a more modest outfit than her working attire, went before a review board to defend her job. "I ain't a ho or a street walker," she explained, "I can't even walk much. I am a spokesmodel and a classy broad. Kenny has made me an executive."

In some cities BarBe's professional appearance, quiet demeanor and obvious sales skills would have won the board over. But this is Greater Cincinnati. Oh, she gets to continue working the streets, but she must sell only Kenny's ribs and must not display her own

"she must dress more modestly. Her clothing must be 'appropriately sized' so 'nothing can be seen from the side'."

Actually, things were going well for BarBe until some carpet-bagging, out-of-town modest-clothing salesman stood up and said:

"Well, either you're closing your eyes
To a situation you do not wish to acknowledge
Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated
By the presence of a mannequin in your community.
Ya got trouble, my friend, right here,
I say, trouble right here in River City.
Why sure I'm a barbecue eater,
Certainly mighty proud, I say,
I'm always mighty proud to say it.
I consider that the hours I spend
With some ‘cue in my hand are golden.
With a vinegar-based hot sauce
And a cool beer and homemade pie.
Ever take and try to get
A satisfying meal for yourself
From a topless restaurant?
But just as I say,
It takes wood smoke, brains, and decency to sell
In the barbecue game,
I say that any boob can flash
And pull a man into a shop.
And I call that sloth!
The first big step on the road
To the depths of deg-ra-Day--shun
……
Friends, the string bikini is the devil's playground!

Trouble, oh we got trouble,
Right here in River City!
With a capital "T"
That rhymes with "B"
And that stands for boobs!"

So now BarBe will be dressed more appropriately for Cincinnati. At least the t shirt gives her somewhere to wipe the sauce off her fingers.

Songs For the New Depression

(Title stolen from Bette Midler)

The Dow Jones Is Gonna Fall
(A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall)

What have you done my stockbroking son?
And what did you do with my retirement fund?
I sold mortgage-backed securities without regulation
I crippled the credit of large corporations
I ruined economies of world power nations
I stumbled on the slide of inflated earnings
I pumped up the bubble until it was bursting
And it’s the Dow, it’s the Dow, it’s the Dow, it’s the Dow
And it’s the Dow Jones a-gonna fall

And who did you meet, my bank failure son?
And whose coffers increased with big bailout funds?
I met AIG who’d had inadequate reserves
I gave them sev’ral billion that they didn’t deserve
I gave Wall Street massive cash funds with multiple zeroes
I saw them bonus themselves as if they were the heroes
I then criticized poor folks for not paying their mortgage
Though someone else’s greed is why they can’t afford it
And it’s the Dow, it’s the Dow, it’s the Dow, it’s the Dow
And it’s the Dow Jones a-gonna fall


The Boxter
(The Boxer – Paul Simon)
I am now a poor boy
And my stocks have all dissolved
Someone squandered all my savings
On squat propped up by bullshit
And false promises
All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And then he does invest

Well I hocked my home
And my SUV
And I sold my little boy
To invest with Bernie Madoff
And some mortgage-backed securities
All uninsured
Now I go
Seeking out the cardboard boxes
Where the homeless people go
Looking for the places
Foreclosed people know

Lie-la-lie--------

Expecting more years of recession
I’ve been laid off from my job
Now I’ve got no prospects
‘Cause I believed in all those whores
CNBC puts on
I do declare---
Chapter Seven – that means bankruptcy
So creditors beware

Lie la lie ---------

Now I’m looking down at wall street
From my ledge, soon I’ll be gone
Going down
And the New Deal stimulus will
Will not be feeding me, or keeping me
From going down

In the driveway stands a Boxter
And a Porsche by its make
And it serves as a reminder
Of wealth evaporated now
And dividends that dried up
And what put me in this mess
I’d be leaving, I’d be leaving
But the car’s being repossessed
Lie la lie lie lie lie lie----

Lie la lie---

Please Do Keep Me Synonymous

The Cincinnati Bengals have become synonymous with losing. Gary Burbank for years took calls from the Synonymous Bengal ("I happen to be one of the Cincinnati Bengals who most assuredly do want to remain synonymous so's not to besmirch my reparation, you understand") who epidermisized the haplessness of the team.

In 2002, second-year receiver, young TJ Houshmandzadeh was used as a kick returner and he often returned the ball ... to the kicking team via a fumble. TJ was not the team's biggest problem, but when I wrote this song, which Synonymous sang, about that awful year, TJ became the tag line.



TJ was so embarrassed by this satiric thrashing that he vowed to become the most reliable receiver on the team and one of the top pass catchers in the league. He achieved that goal and became my favorite player.

I am posting this now because TJ will soon leave the Bengals and get big bucks from some real team out there somewhere. He tells me his only regret is that he will not have me around to motivate and inspire him with my humiliating mocking of his weaknesses and mistakes. I am using my #84 jersey to wipe away my tears. I am also waiting for him to send me some of the money he gets because I made him what he is today.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing airplane glue

Ladies and gentlemen, we have experienced a bit of a problem, which has caused our rapid descent from 13,000 feet to 7,500 feet. We haven’t flown at this low an altitude since Lindbergh was alive, so we hope you appreciate the historic nature of this calami - - er, plane flight.

We assure you that the flight crew is debating possible options for a workable solution to our distress and we may go lower before we regain our normal cruising speed. The pilots have positioned us over the Grand Canyon to provide the illusion of greater altitude and, in the event of a final free fall to oblivion, more time in which to proclaim, “We’re okay so far!”

Currently the Captain is arguing that we should try “jiggling the flappy things, to see if that reverses the nosedive or whatnot.” The copilot says “that’s ridiculous, we need to dump all the fuel to lighten up this puppy and make it go higher.”

While they work out the technical issues, the flight attendants will be passing down the aisles with beverages and tainted peanuts.

If you look out the window you may notice some of the first class passengers bailing out of the plane with free parachutes provided by the airline. The airline feels that it is the higher fares paid by these passengers that put this plane aloft in the first place. So, even though it was these same passengers lobbying the pilot to perform risky flying stunts that caused our current trouble, the airline does not want to lose their business.

The remaining first class passengers will be bailed out as soon as we convince them that, no, they do not deserve free drinks anymore, because they have been naughty.

Some of you in coach will soon be unceremoniously “bailed out” without parachutes, but that’s life.

You will notice that the pilot has turned on the "fasten seat belts" sign because that will give you all something to work on, occupy your minds and provide a temporary mood stimulus.

In the event of a crash, free soup will descend from overhead. You will be instructed to bend over, put your head between your legs and kiss your assets goodbye.

Now enjoy our in-flight movie, “The Grapes of Wrath.”

Idgital TV Deadline Soon To Be Reality

On February 17, 2009 all TV stations in the United States will cease broadcasting any logical television signals and begin broadcasting exclusively idgital formats.

The idgital TV changeover will affect anyone still watching classic, scripted television shows. Viewers who have degraded their viewing to strictly basic cable and reality programming will continue to receive these programs, as they are broadcast in a lower level of consciousness to be perceived even while texting, twittering and doing homework.

If you watch any logical television programming, you must take action before February 17, 2009 in order to continue comprehending what you watch. If you do not purchase a converter box, any logical television show will no longer make any sense and will be perceived as if it were a basic cable or reality program.

Without conversion, dramatic shows such as “The Twilight Zone”, comedies such as “Seinfeld” and classic movies such as “Apollo 13” will be perceived on the same lower range of intelligence as “My Super Sweet 16”, “The Hills” or “American Idol.”

Viewers attempting to watch any logical shows like “The Wire”, will find the premise scrambled and they will be turning to their spouses and saying, “Why would anyone let themselves be filmed doing this?” “Why would people watch it? Or “On what planet does, ‘Dawg, it was a little pitchy but you a’ight,’ qualify as musical critique?"

The US government is issuing coupons to citizens smart enough to care, so that they can get a free converter to transform idgital TV back to any logoical format.
You must act now in order to be ready when February 17 rolls around.
To learn more, go to www.imnotanidiot.gov and download an information brochure.

Also go to Humorbloggers dot com

The Gospel According to JohnnyB

11:1 When they drew near to Washington, District of Columbia, at the mall of the capital, he sent two of his disciples,

11:2 and said to them, "Go your way into the village that is opposite you. Immediately as you enter into it, you will find a new limo, in which no one has sat. Bring it.

11:3 If anyone asks you, 'Why are you doing this?' say, 'Obama needs it;' and immediately he will send it back here."

11:4 They went away, and found a limo at the door outside in the open street, and they started it up.

11:5 Some of the Secret Service asked them, "What are you doing, taking that car?"

11:6 They said to them just as Barack had said, and they let them go.

11:7 They brought the limo to Barack, and threw their jackets in it, and Barack sat in it.

11:8 Many held out papers to autograph, and others were cutting down branches from the trees, and taking them as souvenirs.

11:9 Those who went in front, and those who followed, cried out, "Obama! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the President!

11:10 Blessed is the kingdom of our father Washington that is coming in the name of the President! Obama in the highest!"

11:11 Barack entered into the capital in Washington. When he had looked around at everything, it being now evening, he went out to Alexandria with the family.

11:12 The next day, when they had come out from Alexandria, he was hungry.

11:13 Seeing a cherry tree afar off having leaves, he came to see if perhaps he might find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for cherries.

11:14 Barack told it, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again!" or so the media reported. Actually he just asked someone to get him a coffee and McMuffin.

11:15 They came to Washington, and Barack entered into the capital, and began to throw out those who lied and those who broke the law in the capital, and overthrew the tables of the Constitution-changers, and the seats of those who sold out the nation.

11:16 He would not allow anyone to subvert the Bill of Rights in the capital.

11:17 He taught, saying to them, "Isn't it written, 'My White House will be called a house of integrity for all the nations?' But you have made it a den of war criminals!"

11:18 The Commander in Chief and the Cheney heard it, and sought how they might destroy him. For they feared him, because all the multitude was inspired at his teaching.

11:19 When evening came, he went out of the city.

11:20 As they passed by in the morning, they saw the cherry tree withered away from the roots.

11:21 The hangers-on, remembering, said to him, "Mr. President, look! The cherry tree which you cursed has withered away."

11:22 Barack answering said to them, "Don’t believe everything you hear.”.

11:23 For most assuredly I tell you, whoever may tell the media, 'I love America and have no hidden agenda' and doesn't doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says; they shall misquote it anyway.

11:24 Therefore I tell you, all things whatever you say and text and email, believe that they receive them, and they shall spin them.

11:25 Then Barack went forth and rebuilt the great nation.

I invite thy analysis and interpretation of the scrpture within the comments.
Check out also the Humorbloggers

Movie Review: "MLK!"

Being Martin Luther King Day weekend, I thought it would be appropriate to observe by going to see “MLK!” at the theater in the mall, because I could also go to all the MLK Day sales. I was very happy with the deals I got but, as a white person, I was highly embarrassed by the movie.

Moviemakers always alter some facts when making a film “based on a true story”, but I think updating the “MLK!” story to be about gay rights instead of civil rights was a mistake. There’s nothing wrong with being gay but black people are sort of sensitive about that stuff. Jesse Jackson is still pissed about gay people co-opting the rainbow from his “Rainbow Coalition”. Gay people have been persecuted for sure, but that is nothing compared to what black people have gone through. What is next, a movie about President Lincoln, portraying him freeing the sex slaves?

There were other modifications of history that were uncomfortable. Changing Reverend King’s catch phrase from “I have a dream” to “I want to recruit you” was just uncalled for. And why would a film called “MLK!”, about Martin Luther King, have the main character referred to as “Harvey”? Was it because they needed to get around the fact that the real MLK wasn’t gay? Why “Harvey”? “Martin” sounds more gay than “Harvey”? Oh wait: Harvey Fierstein. I get it.

Still, that’s not the most egregious reality warp here. Sean Penn is a very fine actor; but he’s white. Really white. Having him portray a black leader seems especially offensive at a time when we are about to inaugurate our first pretty-much black president. What? Was Denzel Washington busy? What about Samuel L. Jackson or Eddie Murphy?

About the only thing in the movie that paralleled Dr. King’s real life was that this “Harvey” guy gets shot and that’s NOT really the most significant accomplishment of King’s life. He is a very important person in America. If you forget about the monumental historical refabrications, “MLK!” is a very enjoyable and meaningful movie. But, if you want to honor Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., check out one of these fine movies.

Also check out Humorbloggers

Santa Claus Is Coming To Court

Disassociated Press
January 12, 2009

Westchester County, New York - A lawsuit was filed today against Santa Claus on behalf of ten year old Morgan Deway. The Santa Claus suit seeks damages from Mr. Claus for pain and suffering resulting when Morgan discovered coal in his stocking which was allegedly placed there by Claus last month, on or about midnight, December 24.

The suit was filed by Morgan’s attorney, who is his mother, Carrie Deway, of the firm, Delight and Deway in Pencil Neck, New York. A copy of the court papers stolen exclusively by the Disassociated press, shows that the suit claims Morgan’s self-esteem was damaged beyond repair and his PJ’s were ruined by the coal dust. A spokeself for Santa has stated that the boy had violated a contract by "crying, pouting and shouting when it was clearly stipulated that had 'better not' do any of those things".

The Deways are also charging breach of contract, claiming Morgan did not receive the gifts he specifically requested both in writing and in a face-to-face meeting with Claus at the "Santa's Village" in Pencil Neck Point Mall.

Furthermore, Mrs. Deway has requested a restraining order requiring Santa to stay at least 100 yards from her son Morgan. The order charges that Santa has been stalking the Deway boy in an attempt to discern his proclivities toward naughtiness or niceness.

Reportedly, Claus has filed a counter suit charging that he has been harmed by Morgan Deway. Santa’s suit states that he has become obese by consuming fat laden cookies and egg-nog left out by Morgan Deway on Christmases Past. According to the lawsuit, also filed today, there was no warning label advising Santa that consuming the treats could lead to obesity, heart disease and damage to his sleigh due to exceeding the weight limit.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the nation, Republicans in the California legislature have submitted a bill that would deny Santa Claus the right to deliver toys in that state. The lawmakers said that Santa has been sneaking across the border for years with his toys, taking away delivery jobs that could go to US citizens and California taxpayers.

Democrats have answered that only illegal immigrant elves have been willing to do this delivery job which pays meager wages of snacks and cheap beverages. They have vowed not only to defeat the Republican bill, but to give Santa Claus free medical care and education for his reindeer in the public school system.