Actually, this seems like an accurate snapshot of both parties (the hilarious idea of "Republican intervention" aside)....
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
John Cole concurs:
I am voting for [Obama] in 2012 no matter what, because even though he has many flaws, he will be head and shoulders above whatever swamp thing crawls out of the primordial ooze of lies, homophobia, racial resentment, fearmongering, religious triumphalism, and class warfare that will be the GOP primaries.
Yeah. That's totally what I meant to say too.
Monday, April 18, 2011
I love this.
I love it because each is correct in his assessment of the other: Rove was Bush ("He Who Shall Not Be Named by the GOP Candidates," to use Sully's delightful moniker), and is a partial owner or greater in all the failures of those eight years. And Trump is a joke candidate, after sprinting so breathlessly into the birther camp in recent days.
To be fair, despite their current differences they both have one thing in common: either now or in the past they've both been completely bankrupt.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
This seems very right to me. I've been reading variations of this sentiment all over the place lately--"Obama failed to deliver on this, that, or the other, therefore he has not earned my support for his reelection"--and I am immediately put in mind of our world, post-2003.
The Iraq War, a war of choice driven by many cherished neuroses of GWB and the American right, is a war that Al Gore would have never started. Period. And the fact that it was started is the utmost proof that keeping the psychopaths and the willfully stupid out of high office is a righteous goal in itself.
Any sane, left-leaning individual whose disillusionment with Obama may be pushing them to such selfish handwringing should take a look at the Republican field and imagine--just imagine--what any one of those sycophants and extremists would do with the office of President.
And then he or she should get off their fainting couch and pull the lever for another four years of often less-than-inspiring, clearly imperfect sanity...
Sunday, April 10, 2011
My going theory is that Radioshack is a charity shelter for people too stupid to work at Home Depot. Now, they say you should test a theory with the intent to disprove it. And every time I brave a Radioshack, I take my fragile faith in humanity, hold it in my hopeful little hands, and do just that.
A day or so ago, I walk into my neighborhood Radioshack just before closing time, needing contact cleaner for a piece of electronics I have. There's an employee by the door, vacuuming. I ask him if they carry contact cleaner. He smiles kindly, the way you would for a child or someone with polio braces.
"Contact cleaner," I say.
"You know you're in Radioshack, right?" he asks. I nod, "Yeah, do you guys have contact cleaner?" He then points to his eye: "Contacts?"
Ah--I realize--one of the mentally homeless.
"No, no," I say "contact cleaner...for cleaning electrical connections." The kind you'd find in an electronics store, I refrain from saying. "Ooohhh," he nods, for whatever reason visibly relieved. Then he shouts over to employee #2, who's stocking shelves with his back to us, "Hey, we have contact cleaner, right?"
Employee #2 doesn't look up, just shakes his head 'no.' Employee #1 persists, "I think we do. You know, contact cleaner!" Prodded by this exclamation mark, employee #2 finally lifts his head and sizes me up, clearly annoyed at having to answer such a stupid question...and points to his eye. "Contacts?" he says, with a puckered smirk.
Hm--I think--both of these guys' shoes are tied, no velcro, and they appear to be breathing fine, no eye dilation....
"No," I repeat, "contact cleaner...for cleaning electrical connections."
Employee #2 looks at me a second, processing.
Finally, a third employee, who'd kept his head down through this entire exchange, counting receipts at the register, says simply, "it's in aisle three." And sure enough...
A few observations, in a l'esprit de l'escalier type way.
First, what was the sin of employee #3--the only one of the bunch seemingly capable of breathing through his nose--that he should be consigned to such a Sartre-esque hell?
Second, it's extremely disconcerting to be viewed as an idiot by idiots. The experience has a panic-inducing, through-the-looking-glass quality to it.
Third, my theory stands. Radioshack: 1; The Shining Future of Humanity: 0.
Monday, April 4, 2011
After scratching my finger while on vacation, the cut got infected. Naturally, this finger is the pointer on my left hand, i.e., the one I use to do bar chords on the guitar.
Not a painful situation at all. Ahem.
I found myself in this per-dick-a-mint--again naturally--after I had scheduled myself for nine hours of basically continuous band practice the week I got back in town.
So there I am, walking into the studio with my aching, swollen finger, thinking over the torments of the hours to come. I start playing--ouch. I play some more. I get into it a bit; get the adrenaline going a little. And a few hours later...no more pain.
Examining my finger, I notice that the swelling is gone. A few days later, it seems like my day of playing cured me entirely, enough that I could confidently cancel the doc's appointment I had scheduled for this morning.
Chalk it up to the power of music. Oh, and pressing a bubble of infected flesh against sharp, steel strings for hours on end.
But mostly music....