Out of curiosity, I peeked at the blog for PUMA PAC this evening to see what’s doing, and to say that what's left of their would-be revolution is now dying on the floor is an understatement.
Even former die-hard Hillary supporters are loudly criticizing the group’s leadership for not hopping the Obama train, especially in light of John McCain and trophy VP Sarah Palin’s hardcore stance on abortion.
My God, check out the statement made by Cindy McCain above--in an interview with ABC News--that Sarah Palin being governor of a state in the same region as Russia (Siberia, actually) is an example of her background in national security.
Jesus Horatio Christ.
I think ten billion of my brain cells just died in agony trying to process that statement, which is sincerely one of the dumbest things I have ever heard anyone say.
But using Mrs. McCain’s logic, does the fact that I live by an airport qualify me to fly 747s?
Hold on while I go to the control tower and ask…
The recent invasion of Georgia by Russia revived in me some old nostalgia for the Cold War days of the early 1980s.
Remember?
When hawkish Republicans claimed that nuclear war was a “winnable” concept, and all of humanity wouldn’t be vaporized in the process?
Ah, now that was classic stupidity.
I’ll give John McCain’s media staff credit on one thing: they don’t let the grass grow under their feet, especially when responding to criticisms of Sarah Palin being (according to presidential historian Matthew Dallek) the “most inexperienced person on a major party ticket in modern history” in a Politico article where other scholars (Joel Goldstein, Doris Kearns Goodwin, David Kennedy) echo similar concerns over Palin’s thin resume.
In response, McCain’s people fired off the following to Politico:
"The authors [of the Politico piece] quote four scholars attacking Gov. Palin's fitness for the office of Vice President. Among them, David Kennedy is a maxed out Obama donor, Joel Goldstein is also an Obama donor, and Doris Kearns Goodwin has donated exclusively to Democrats this cycle. Finally, Matthew Dallek is a former speech writer for Dick Gephardt. This is not a story about scholars questioning Governor Palin's credentials so much as partisan Democrats who would find a reason to disqualify or discount any nominee put forward by Senator McCain."
A tad hypersensitive, aren’t we?
If McCain’s staff thinks this level of scrutiny over Palin is bad—and it’s truly mild—they had better toughen up quick, because after the pixiedust following her debut has settled, she will have to explain to voters in concrete terms why she’s qualified to be POTUS should her boss expire.
And somehow, I suspect Palin's ability to grill mooseburgers just won't cut it.
Perhaps if I’m bad and don’t put a library book back in the right place, governor will become very cross with me, and march me into her office for a stern lecture on proper shelf insertion techniques.
Hey, I’m male and straight. Deal with it. Plus, I have a serious fetish for chicks with the Tina Fey look.
That said, let’s continue to the following, related post….
When I heard today John McCain that had picked Sarah Palin—a governor with less than two years in office—as his running mate, like most everyone else, I was surprised – a sentiment which soon turned to sheer bafflement.
Yes, Palin makes some sense for McCain in that she upholds many core conservative beliefs (gun rights, global warming, energy), in addition to fancying herself as a fellow “maverick.” And judging from the Christian conservative chat boards I visited today, McCain’s evangelical base—which has been previously lukewarm to his candidacy—could not be happier with the pick.
However, when we step back to reality, we must assume one of two things regarding john McCain’s state of mind in selecting Palin – he is either: a) shockingly brilliant, or; b) equally deranged.
And when I look at the options, I have to go with the latter: McCain is crazier than a proverbial shithouse rat.
Here’s why:
Outside of reinforcing his “maverick” image, if McCain’s ploy in choosing Sarah Palin is to draw in disgruntled Hillary zealots yet clinging to her in the hopes that tossing a female candidate their way will make them lunge for her like starving dogs, he’s wrong.
Sure, a few last zealots may flee to McCain out of continued spite for Obama, but what his campaign forgets is the vast majority of Hillary fans are pro-choice on abortion. And like McCain, Palin is staunchly pro-life. So expecting Hillary’s gang of 18 million to reverse on an issue as emotionally charged as abortion rights just to vote for a “hockey mom” is sheer insanity on McCain’s part.
Secondly, in picking a candidate with far less experience than Obama, McCain has undercut his favorite attack message against him: Obama is inexperienced; he is not ready to lead.
Sure, McCain’s newly energized masses are (desperately) crowing that Palin’s two terms as mayor of an Alaskan town of 8,600 people--and governor of a state with a population smaller than San Diego--qualifies as “executive experience.”
Yet like McCain himself, these people are also fucking insane.
They are also as high on their own cult of personality as any Obama fan has been on his, but cannot recognize it.
Or at least not yet.
Finally, in bringing aboard Sarah Palin, McCain is putting his campaign at a major strategic disadvantage by positioning her against two rivals in Barack Obama and Joe Biden who have been pressing the flesh, and introducing themselves to locals in diners and steel mills for the past 18 months. Yet to people in key battleground states that McCain must capture to win election, Palin will be a total stranger, and she’s got roughly 60 days to reverse that situation.
Not easy when your opponents—which includes Hillary Clinton herself, and her 18 million—have a massive head start on you.
So to sum up, yes, John McCain is crazy.
But to paraphrase Jason Alexander, right now crazy’s all he’s got.
In roughly seven hours and twenty minutes, I turn 40 years (or 480 months, as Mitch Robbins would quantify it) old.
On Saturday, I'll be marking the occasion with friends over hibachi and laser tag. All things considered, I'm relatively happy with my life, and other than a shortage in the buckage department, have few complaints. I am blessed with good friends, my family, mutant luck power, super-speed, and many wonderful toys.
Thus, as Ben Franklin would say: stick that in your fife and smoke it.
That is all.
In an alley behind a non-descript row of brick buildings on North Speer Boulevard, and on the other side of a large metal gate with armed guards standing in front, Republicans have set up a "war room" in Denver...
Republican National Committee Chairman Mike Duncan said the team of nearly two dozen staffers at the opposition headquarters will be "fact-checking" statements made by the Obama campaign and by speakers during the convention.
Either way, were George Orwell alive today, he'd be breaking into a cold sweat after reading the above, or fall off his chair laughing.
Take one fat bastard helping to save the rebel alliance, add a last-minute trip to Sonic on the way to your x-wing, mix in a dollop of chipotle mayo, two cups of sub-light speed, and a dash of poor judgment.
Allow to set, and flambe for one-third of a second at 2,000,000 degrees, and you get the following:
Lesson learned, I hope?
Although I'm not heavily into '80s-era glam rock, there's something about the following Shakespeare's Sister track I've always felt was catchy.
Maybe it has something to do with the opening line being one of my favorite credos to live by.
And I quote...
The McCain camp released the following ad (called "Passed Over") last night reaching out to Hillary zealots enraged by Obama's decision to tap Senator Joe Biden as his VP, and not her. Yet the ironic thing is that McCain's people also admitted to having had another ad in reserve condemning Obama if he had, in fact, picked Hillary in a surprise move.
I'll give McCain's media handlers credit for this ad in that it seeks to fuel the paranoia of the "Save Hillary" morons out there. But in the long haul, I think it'll make zero difference in the final vote.
Finally, McCain had best beware of posting too many ads of Biden citing concerns over Obama's lack of experience during this past primary season, especially if he picks Mitt Romney as his running mate. Back when they were competing against each other on the GOP side, McCain and Romney nipped at each other like a couple of rabid poodles (with McCain calling Romney "phony" in one ad), providing a wealth of clips for Obama's people to use.
Yesterday, I received confirmation that I will, in fact, be flying to Munich on Saturday, November 7, returning home the following week. The meeting itself—located in a southern suburb of Munich—doesn’t begin until 1PM the following Monday, which will give me ample time to rest up and do some exploring.
The crux of Mathews’ interview addressed a poll out today reporting that 11% of ex-Hillary backers will attempt to torpedo Obama by voting for McCain or no one, with some desperately holding onto the crazed belief that at the DNC Convention Hillary will stage a miraculous comeback during roll call, seizing super-delegates, and sending Obama home to Chicago in disgrace.
Yet my opinion is these would-be Dems will either not show up on Election Day, or their “outrage” (which frankly, amounts to reverse sexism) won’t amount to a blip in the battleground states where this election will be won or lost.
Anyhow, Dahlia Lithwick over on Slate posted an interesting—if overly cerebral-- article questioning the motives of the pro-Hillary cadre, and whether in their furor for voice they are simply reinforcing age-old stereotypes of women as, well, crazy bitches.
Guess what? She's right.
Although I disagree with the more times than I can count, one thing I can usually rely on most conservatives to do in an adult political discussion is to be reasonably well-informed.
Too bad Jill Stanek and Sean Hannity don’t fall into that category, although frankly, I’m hardly shocked.
Case in point:
As a staunch pro-lifer, former nurse and current WorldNutDaily columnist/blogger Stanek often writes of her hatred of all things abortion (and gay marriage, but that's another story).
Fair enough.
Yet in this election year, one particular war drum Ms. Stanek has been beating for months over Barack Obama’s presidential run is her claim that in 2003 he voted against the Born Alive Infants Protection Act which would have required by law any babies born in Illinois as a result of a botched abortion to receive full medical care by a doctor.
The problem, however, is that Illinois statute (720 ILCS 510/6) already made this requirement law prior to 2003.
And I quote:
"No abortion shall be performed or induced when the fetus is viable unless there is in attendance a physician other than the physician performing or inducing the abortion who shall take control of and provide immediate medical care for any child born alive as a result of the abortion. This requirement shall not apply when, in the medical judgment of the physician performing or inducing the abortion based on the particular facts of the case before him, there exists a medical emergency; in such a case, the physician shall describe the basis of this judgment on the form prescribed by Section 10 of this Act. Any physician who intentionally performs or induces such an abortion and who intentionally, knowingly, or recklessly fails to arrange for the attendance of such a second physician in violation of Section 6(2)(a) commits a Class 3 felony."
http://www.ilga.gov/legislation/ilcs/documents/072005100K6.htm
When guest Bob Beckel raised this very fact during this evening’s “Hannity & Colmes,” Hannity ignorantly denied the statute even existed.
Well, dickhead. Guess what? It does.
And anyone like yourself and Jill Stanek who falsely go after Obama for rejecting a law in ’03 that was already on the books are (at best) not doing their due diligence, and (at worst) are being deceptive.
From what I can recall, something had happened to my car which left me in a serious pinch on how to get to work each morning.
So naturally, I went with this alternative:
This is a Cheetah, a kind of souped-up Big Wheel sold in the 1970s by Lakeside Toys which my parents bought for my brother and me to run from the top of our long, semi-steep driveway and spin out in the back (again and again).
But I digress.
In the dream, my new commute went swimmingly until on my home from work one afternoon, one of the plastic wheels on my Cheetah wore out and became unusable. So I pulled over, distraught knowing that Cheetahs haven’t been manufactured for 30-plus years, and that it’d be almost impossible to get a spare wheel.
I couldn't even call AAA for a tow, although I imagine they would have been happy to strap my poor, busted ride to a tailgate and give me a lift to a garage.
Then I woke up, with a little tinge of regret, in that despite the little challenges of driving them on the tollway, commuting by Cheetah—which don’t require a drop of gas—really wasn’t so bad at all.
Honestly, “Tropic Thunder” did little for me.
As a spoof on war films, it’s got some fun performances (including Robert Downey, and Tom Cruise as a manic studio boss), but outside of three clever gag trailers that precede the story, "Thunder's" jokes often fall flat and are not well-paced.
Overall, I felt it was a disappointment.
Yet then again, judging from the horrid reviews for “Clone Wars” (which sounds just a wee bit better than the “Star Wars Christmas Special”), "Thunder" is still probably superior to anything else out this week.
You hear that heavy, sickening thud, kids? That means the 2008 summer movie season is now officially over.
I was encouraged this week to see how the Obama campaign—unlike John Kerry’s in ’04—aggressively took the fight to shameless horseshit vendor Jerome Corsi, Ph. D (co-author of the Swift Boat text “Unfit For Command”), and his current hit piece titled “Obama Nation” published by a division of Simon & Shuster headed by former Cheney staffer Mary Matalin.
In response, sites like Media Matters have aggressively fact-checked Corsi’s text (#1 this week on the New York Times best-seller list, largely due to bulk purchases from conservative groups that artificially inflate sales figures) along with other sources which have exposed factual errors and lazy research methods in “Obama Nation.”
Plus, the Obama campaign has also produced a fully-cited, 40-page refutation of “Obama Nation” taking its analysis (which insinuates, among other things, that Obama is a drug-user and a closet Muslim) down piece by piece – retorts which Corsi and his hack editors have yet to refute.
Finally, a little piece of advice for readers in general: you may notice that a lot of conservative authors (like Corsi and Ann Coulter) like to bulk up their books with footnotes--used as side comments listing sources for a prior statement—the implication being that they show how diligent a writer has been in bolstering their work with hard research.
However, there’s a catch here: being that if (like Corsi and Coulter) your research methods are crap—or worse, farmed out to editorial underlings working for the author—footnotes are nothing more than empty, meaningless noise.
Just a tip, by the bye.
Although she oddly tends to play characters who are morose, there's something about Christa Flannagan I can't help but be attracted to. I mean, yes, she's beautifully deadpan, but even more alluring is when such humor is delivered by a girl from Mount Vernon, Illinois.
Vis-Ã -vis Superhero Hype, MTV’s Splash Page (which I guess is part of the network’s endless quest to be as eye-meltingly hip as possible) queries a few popular comic writers (Grant Morrison, Tim Sale, Mark Waid) as to whom the next Batman movie villain should be.
The consensus: Catwoman.
However, I must disagree.
With the stark, bare bones version of Gotham Chris and Jonathan Nolan have established in "Begins" and “TDK,” any bat-villains which are overtly cartoonish (Penguin, Killer Croc, Bane) should be scrubbed from the next film's dramatic radar. And though Catwoman doesn’t exactly fall into the likes of Oswald Cobblepot, I’ve never found the character very compelling.
After all, what is she? A jewel thief with a feline fetish – hardly a whirlwind of criminal chaos like The Joker.
As for my two cents for which bad guy should be in “Batman 3,” I’ll take Two-Face (it was never really confirmed he died), the Riddler (only if done semi-seriously, not as an anal nerd who leaves clues for Batman outlining his latest plot, and is shocked when he crashes in through the skylight), or perhaps The Ventriloquist who is admittedly a bit Joker-like, but offers much for delving into his split psychology.
As for Robin, although I've always liked him, I prefer Batman solo. And apparently so do the Nolan Brothers.
Although nothing is set in stone, there’s a decent chance I’ll be traveling to Europe (specifically: Munich, Germany) for the first time this November for a job-related meeting.
I’d be out for a week, and though I’m told the work involved would be “challenging” (which is corporate-code for ”a pain in the ass no one else wants to deal with”), the prospect of going anywhere new excites me to no end.
It’s something I live for.
In fact, if there’s one dream I consistently have it’s of going to foreign places, and wandering town squares, ornate cathedrals, beaches, shopping malls, and other cultural spots.
But assuming I’m going to der Fatherland in three months, I’d better start boning up on my common phrases to best interact with the natives (e.g. “Sprechen ze train station?, “Vill you fondle mine buttocks?” et al.)
I’m also calling for the GOP to get its proverbial clock cleaned in the congressional races, giving Democrats a working majority in both the House and Senate.
Of course, we’ll see how everything shakes out in a few weeks, but I’m going on the record now: McCain will beat Obama 274-264.
If I’m wrong, I’ll be the first to celebrate.
A: I don’t think so.
Although I don’t live in the Maryland area, the following story about a botched SWAT drug raid on the home of Cheye Calvo, mayor of Berwyn Heights, last week reads like a horror tale of police powers run amok…or in the case of Dick Cheney, what he no doubt dreams blissfully of every night.
Right off, this incident is extremely disturbing—beyond the fact that Mr. Calvo’s two dogs were needlessly shot by the cops--in the following ways: a) Isn’t the cops shadowing an unknown bag to an address (the mayor’s wife picked up the package left by police on her doorstep), and then rushing in with guns blazing on possession charges entrapment (plus, we’re talking pot here; not heroin or meth); b) Who was the lobotomized judge who signed off on the county’s no-knock warrant, and finally; c) Did anyone at the Prince George’s County Sheriff’s Office bother to question whether this might be a bogus tip?
Of course, city mayors can be involved in drug possession (hello, Marion Berry), but using this walking abortion of police powers to make the case?
Here’s hoping Mr. Calvo sues the living shit out of Prince George’s County in civil court.
Hell, I’ll even donate a few bucks to his legal fund.
Okay, Mr. Favre.
You hemmed and hawed over retirement from football over the past three seasons until you finally, graciously called it a career in March 2008.
Then two or three weeks out of training camp, you threw the Packers’ plan for life-after-you into a moat by announcing your abrupt intent to return to the team.
You flew back into Green Bay this past Sunday, met by a crew of “mouth-breathing troglodytes” who heralded your triumphant return to the NFL. Yet today, after lengthy discussions with Packers coach Mike McCarthy, you reassessed your comeback by finally, graciously recognizing how your recent Marsha Brady-like conduct has upset the team’s chemistry.
Now word has it the Packers will not grant you a full release for fear you may sign with a division rival like Minnesota – which leaves Green Bay the option to trade you to another team, or simply send you home to Mississippi to wait for another cameo role in There's Something About Mary 2.
Either way, things would have been so much simpler if you would have stayed retired.
Now hit the road while I play that sad song that ran over the final shot of each episode of "Incredible Hulk" showing Dr. Banner walking down that lonesome highway.
PS: I promise never to discuss this stupid topic here again. I promise. Besides, Brett Favre made me do it.
I don't know why it took so long to dawn on me, but to paraphrase a certainJust got a call from my brother Scott, who—if you haven’t been reading this blog regularly—works as a news/sports cameraman for the CBS-TV affiliate in Milwaukee.
He was calling from the airport in Green Bay (along with what Scott called “about a hundred mouth-breathing troglodytes”) where Brett Favre—now reinstated by the NFL—was due to triumphantly arrive to report to Packers training camp after abruptly reversing his decision to retire last month.
Once again, I’m not a Packer fan, nor am I much of an NFL fan in general anymore.
But I can only imagine how furious Green Bay QB Aaron Rodgers is right now after sitting in Favre’s shadow for two years as a backup, only to see his opportunity to start in 2008 revoked due to Favre’s cheap selfishness.
Yes, technically, no one has the Packers’ starting QB job now (the team has suggested an “open tryout”), but barring a surprise trade, one has to assume that Favre will easily get his old job back.
Were I Aaron Rodgers, I would be doing one thing at this moment: packing my stuff into my car, and leaving camp before sunset while notifying my agent that the Packers are free to trade me at any time.
Both Favre and the Packers organization have totally screwed him, and it’s extremely unfair.
End of line.
Although it received little advanced buzz on the Internets, the vanilla-titled “X-Files: I Want To Believe” is a much better film than the feature that preceded it in 2002, and dove heavily into the TV series’ UFO mythology. It is also a smarter, more subdued and fun, tighter, and all-around better movie.
Now both out of the FBI, former Special Agents Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) and Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) are consulted by the bureau on the case of a missing agent, and to gauge the reliability of defrocked Catholic priest (Billy Connolly) who claims to have psychic visions of the victim.
That’s pretty much writer-director Chris Carter’s basic premise: no grand government conspiracies, no oily-eyed aliens out to conquer humanity. And it’s a welcome relief to enjoy such a streamlined story that is as satisfying as the best TV “X-Files” episodes that aired during the series’ nine-season run.
The film also explores a deeper side to the relationship between Mulder and Scully, who have become a couple, but comically still refer to one another by their last names.
And though comments made by some that “I Want To Believe” will appeal most to longtime “X-Files” fans are indeed true, this shouldn’t shock anyone. That is the audience Chris Carter is clearly aiming for.
This said, as one of the show’s fans, I enjoyed the movie very much.
Now that I’m back at work, when I go out for lunch I typically spend a few minutes getting my political talk fix on the radio—typically, Ed Schultz or Rush Limbaugh—which between the two, I can briefly tolerate the latter before he starts flagrantly lying about those he sees as a threat to his definition of America.
Anyhow, this week heralded the drug-addled gasbag’s 20th anniversary as the greatest media waterboy the RNC ever had, and to mark the occasion Limbaugh received a surprise call from the Bush boys at their Keenebunkport estate.
On the call (transcripted here) both Poppy Bush and Jeb are quite charming, offering kudos to El Drugbo while ducking the temptation to use the airtime to score cheap political points – something, not surprisingly, the current President Bush could not resist doing as he hammered his plan for expanded offshore oil drilling, and Limbaugh used the same window to distort Obama’s energy plan.
Particularly amusing was when Bush The Younger claimed that by expanding offshore drilling, Americans would have the treat of buying “American oil” – a curious statement considering that all crude goes into the global market pool where it ceases to be Iraqi, or Mexican, or of any national flavor at all, and is happily bought up by titanic oil conglomerates.
You’re right, Dubya. That is a profound honor.
And Rush, on marking yet another year of excellence in broadcasting, I truly hope your retreat tonight to your large and lonely bed (in your equally large and lonely Palm Beach estate) marks the postponement for just one more day—just one more day, Rusty!--of the crushing reality to come when you at last realize you will never know the love of a woman during your sad, hollow lifetime.
Sweet dreams, big boy. Sweet dreams.
