The Great Debate, Paul Newman, and How Cold my Feet Are

Mortality has raised its ugly head again and the Reaper has taken from us Paul Newman, Movie Star, Salad Dressing Icon, and Faithful Husband. I should put the Faithful Husband first, since that was and is perhaps his greatest achievement. Any man who looks that damn good and is faithful to his wife and family deserves a straight shot through the pearly gates as well as our deepest admiration. All of his other achievements are just frosting on the cake. Godspeed you good man. I'll miss you.

I watched the debate last night (mostly) McCain was condescending as usual and hell-bent on giving us young whippersnappers all a lesson in history. (Can you say "Sevastopol?") Somehow I cannot take anyone seriously whose professed favorite song is Abba's "Dancing Queen." Maybe that's the song he heard the first time he cheated on his first wife and its a sentimental favorite; who am I to say. We all have our memories. I just don't think this is one I'd admit to if I was running for USA's highest office, but I guess when you consider his choice for VP, it all fits in a kind of a sickeningly scary way.

As an aside, I can't wait until Klondike Barbie (aka Yukon Barbie, aka Veepzilla) debates Joe Gaffe Biden. It will be a showdown to see who puts who's foot deeper into who's mouth, although judging by Palin's interview with Katie Couric, the whole thing will probably be called at half-time because the embarrassment will be too much for the moderator, although Veepzilla seems amazingly devoid of insight regarding her own shortcomings. There's gonna be a movie about her, mark my words.

Anyway, poor John didn't look quite as scary pale as he usually does. I read that he hired a makeup artist to make him look amazingly lifelike. It almost worked last night. I find it most frightening when he grins; he turns into one of those Tim Burton characters in "The Nightmare Before Christmas." Kind of a scary Pez dispenser. His appearance is much less creepy than his policies, which are what is relevant here, despite my mean-spirited comments about his age. He was a geezer when he ran for president in 2000 when he was only 64. What bothers me most of all is his air of all-knowing certitude and his ability to twist facts beyond recognition to further his agenda. He really IS into his geezerhood, where insisting you're right becomes a matter of the utmost importance, even when you are not. I suppose it is part of everyone's desire to feel relevant and maintain their perceived status, but dammit, he could take a page from the book of the aforementioned Mr. Newman, who managed to remain relevant up to and including day after he died. Spending 5-1/2 years in a NV prison certainly demands everyone's respect and honor; but it does not give him a guaranteed him a ticket to the White House. God save me from being a Geezer-ess. Actually, female geezers are known as Church Ladies.

Now as far as my feet go. It is fall here in the North Country, and I have this horror of turning on the furnace because that would be Giving In. And because the furnace will be on for the next 6 months. The too-short time between listening to the howling of the AC and the howling of the furnace is sweet, sweet silence. Consequently, my feet are cold because I can't find my slippers either. I'll probably turn it on when I wake up with frost on my nose, or David will because he does not get the same perverse sense of accomplishment I do when it feels like you are about to have your toes break off when your feet hit the floor. I am the child of a father who thought nothing of the fact that his children and wife had to trek outside in any and all weather to go to the bathroom, and we actually did melt snow to heat for bath water, and our heat, for our whole house, in North Frickin' Dakota, came from a big cylindrical stove in the dining room that burned coal and/or wood. I could go on and on, but you can read Little House on the Prairie yourself. I'm a throwback to an earlier century I guess and I'm used to cold feet, but I mostly hate to give in to Winter!

The economy, the election, and the difference between voting for John McSame and having a future for the country

Its 46 days until the election. Wall Street has crashed. John McCain is still giving his stump speech, Obama has outlined a plan, yet McCain says Obama has no plan but to increase taxes, when he very clearly will not, at least not for 95% of Americans. How can he say these lies and then say he is for his country first? He is hell-bent on election, as they say, and damn the country.

Harvey Pitt, who used to be the head of the SEC, was on TV this morning saying that it is time to look forward instead of looking to place the blame. I beg to defer. Those who are responsible for nearly bringing down the global economy (and that is some achievement) should be held to the same standard as the poor bastard who gets caught with marijuana 3 times and winds up spending 20 years in jail. Accountability apparently depends upon the depth of your pockets.

Sarah WTF Palin??

"What's the difference between a pit bull and a hockey mom? Lipstick."
--Sarah Palin, John McSame's pick for VP

The corollary to this is:
"You can put lipstick on a pig, but it's still a pig."

Sarah Palin reminds me of the obnoxious gym teacher in all those movies, but instead of the proud and smug school principal standing by her side, there is the elderly and slightly befuddled/embarrassed-appearing Top of The Ticket, standing slightly to her left and way out of focus in the background. Personally, I don't know how anyone could stand to the right of her.

We have finally fallen to the level of American Idol politics, where, with the right handling, anyone can be a star, or in this case, vice president. This woman has no better qualifications to be 7 minutes away from the presidency than I do, 7 minutes being the average time between when you stop breathing and when your brain is dead. Although with this choice, John McCain may have proven to be the exception to this biological fact, making my arguement moot.

Sarah Palin is 44 years old, doesn't believe in birth control, and has recently given birth to a baby with Down syndrome who is destined to be someone's responsibility for his entire life. And apparently abstinence training isn't all that it is cracked up to be, considering that her 17-year-old daughter is knocked up. And while Jamie Lynn Spears' parents were trashed by the right (Right Bill O'Reilly?), the Palins' are extolled as paragons of parental virtue as they parade their baby with the baby bump on worldwide television. Ptooey. And does little Bristol want to have this baby and actually marry the self-described "redneck" at the tender age of 17, or is it just good for mommy's career? How does she like being paraded around the world as a poster child for "family values?" By the way, did mommy, or did she not, veto funds for single women and children? Mommy's a fucking hypocrite. Sorry. Gobama. Gojoe.

Mommy's stupid too. I just read that she said at a campaign stop today, when asked about Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae, that they were getting too big and cost too much to the American tax payer. Uhh, excuse me, these are private entities, at least they were up until today. She has 58 days to shoot herself, and poor old McCain, in the foot. Thank God.

Michelle Malkin and the Ay-Rab Headscarf

Michelle, Michelle, Michelle, you have finally reached the tipping point beyond which you no longer have even the SLIGHTEST remnant of credibility. God is Great! Michelle has decided that Rachel Ray's fringed scarf worn around her neck in a Dunkin Donuts commercial indicates support of Palestinian terror groups. This is such a relief, because up until now, Michelle has maintained a sick sort of credibility, but this puts her firmly in the Mann Coulter Right Wing Nut Job Hall of Fame.

Michelle is a self-hating Oriental woman who wastes absolutely no time making excuses for the excesses of White America. She made a spirited defense of the United States' decision to intern Japanese Americans in prision camps during World War II. She is a Bush cheerleader despite the obvious lies and deception and prevarication that emanate from the black hole that is the Bush 43 administration.

I feel it it necessary to express my dismay that the people at Dunkin Donuts (Donuts are Great!) felt it necessary to cave in to the psychotic rantings of a self-loathing, obviously crazy blogger by pulling the ads with the hideously offensive Rachel Ray in her scarf. Good GOD! She is adorable, what is wrong with them? What a gutless and toadying bunch. Now if she had been wearing Sarah Jessica Parker's green head-thingy that she wore in London at the premier of that movie, Michelle would have had my blessing. I'm sure that was terrorist-inspired.

Oh, anybody know where I can get one of those scarves?

RAIN

Three-tenths of an inch of rain. Its a start. I had to just lean back and close my eyes and listen to the sound of it on the roof. Everything is freshened up and there is some hope in the air. The green in the grass looks like it is going to finally overtake the brown, and the tulips that I favored with 2 gallons of water this morning are breathing a sigh of relief. I too am breathing a sigh of relief that I can avoid watering anything, at least for awhile. Rain in farm country comes right after the Holy Trinity; and often, if not ahead of the Holy Spirit, it is neck-in-neck. Without rain there is nothing, and if there's too much, there is nothing. Life and livelihood on the great grassland prairie depends upon its good graces. There is little as demoralizing as a drought, and there is a sickening feeling in the the stomach when you watch the shaggy cattle in the spring fields grow gaunt and hollow-eyed when they should be getting fat and sleek, and the fields of grain wither and die. My livelihood does not depend on the rain; but I was raised here, the daughter of farmers, and I've spent enough time in the fields that I count myself a farmer of sorts. Many of the people I know and love do depend on it, and the rhythms of the land run deep in my heart. It is good to hear the rain.

Rancid Dictators

No, I am not talking about Mussolini or Hitler or George W. Bush. I'm talking about people who INSIST on dictating while eating, their meals. Smack smack slurp suck suck suck. Couple this with the fact that they mostly dictate in broken English, well it would lead one to drink. They are, however, one step above the ones who haven't learned the use of tissue, and we will leave how that sounds to your imagination, because frankly, when I have to think about it, I gag. No good rat bastards is all I can say.

I Am SO Sick of Wind

Political and atmospheric! The wind has been 25-30 MPH on and off for the last month. Pioneers used to kill themselves in despair because of the wind here on the north prairie, and I can see why. That on top of the drought is very demoralizing. The only good thing is that the temperatures have remained moderate to even a little cool, or it would be far dryer than it is. As it stands, there are ranchers who are contemplating selling their cattle in a matter of weeks because they are out of hay; the pastures just have not grown. People have stopped seeding. We are headed to 1929; I can feel it.

Politically, oh Lord. The spit is hitting the fan with the votes in Florida and Michigan. Please recall that the democratic national committee in all of its wisdom decided to punish the voters of these states because they chose to have their primaries early (ohhhh, naughty states). Now there are lawsuits being filed to force the DNC to count these votes. I don't know how a committee can chose to disinfranchise the voters of entire states; it seems as unamerican as superdelegates and the frickin electoral college. What ever happened to one man, one vote? They were going to have a revote, but Senator Obama decided to put the ix-nay on that. I wonder why. I guess its because he's scared she'd win. He's a politician after all and wants to win at all costs. Just because he gets up there and spouts change doesn't mean he isn't just like all the others. You have to have a huge ego and supreme self-confidence to run for president, so his "I'm just like you" stuff is just a little precious. He is NOT like me. I was NOT the president of the Harvard Review. Don't get me wrong, I am inspired by his language, his speeches are pure poetry. But its like meringue, tastes good and all, but its basically air. I don't know if inspiration can take the place of solid plans. I guess we will know in November.

On Getting Older

Remember the friend with the fedora I wrote about on the 17th? I just found out that he died of a heart attack almost a year ago, and my college roommate has cancer. It is a shock to hear that kind of information from your peers. He was 54, she is 52, my age. I've become used to the deaths of my friends' parents, and my parents are gone, but damn. This is tough. A few weeks ago a local woman much younger than I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Damned cancer. I've had way too much experience with it. God bless my friend and her family.

I Still Hate George Bush.

Yesterday in our local paper there was another huge picture of our Feckless Leader holding hands with a Smirking Saudi prince (after they blew him off over the whole "please pump some more oil, pretty pretty pretty please, oh please, its my legaceeeee" request). Just to the left of that photo was an article captioned "Gay Weddings Expected to Increase." I can't wait until he is out of office and can move in with the House of Saud permanently. I have had about enough of him.

I have a violently Republican acquaintance who told me about a bumper sticker he was dying to have that said "My gun has killed less people than Ted Kennedy's car." I told him he could substitute "Laura Bush" for that too but he doesn't believe it. I'm looking forward to the day that entire rotten, corrupt bag of weevils leaves Washington.

Indiana Jones and the Wonders of Nostalgia

I have to admit I have been madly in love with Indiana Jones since I first saw him on the screen when I was in college. There was a herd of of who hung out together and every time we got an opportunity to show the movie to someone else, or got bored, or just needed a fix, we'd go see "Raiders of the Lost Ark." I probably spent the equivalent of my spring tuition (about 168 bucks back in those far-gone days) in tickets to this movie. My roommate's brother wore his Indie fedora with great panache and everywhere you loked you could see one of those leather jackets. I still get a kick out of seeing that movie. Indiana and I are much older now, and I think seeing the next installment is going to be like seeing an old friend. I know it will make me think of those college kids from long ago, and wish we could be sitting together in a theater in Fargo, North Dakota, on a warm spring night, silly and young and smelling of beer and enjoying ourselves without a care in the world. Bonnie, Kevin, Brian, Andy: Wherever you may be, I love you all.

Another of the Old Ones Takes His Leave

We got word yesterday that our cousin Jens Tennefos has passed away, one of the last of the Greatest Generation, or probably slight post Greatest Generation, but a Good Generation, nonetheless. I didn't know him well, but he always remembered me and asked fondly after my folks. He had more charm than almost anyone I know. He was in the state legislature for many years, and I, as a member of a labor group for state employees, went to lobby the legislature on a regular basis. Cousin Jens would ask me to sit on the floor of the Senate with him, asked about Mom and Dad and all the brothers and sisters, and anyone else he could think of to avoid discussing the dismal, subsistance wages paid to a great many state employees. I did remind him once that I had voted him when he ran for his first term to the legislature, and his lack of sympathy for my cause pretty much made certain that I would never cast another republican ballot again (which I haven't). He just grinned his charming grin, gave me a hug, and told me to look him up next time I got to town, and I grinned back with great affection and not the least shred of animosity. Rest in peace Jens, and manga takk.

I created this blog because I hate George Bush

and in direct response to his Hitler and appeasement references in Israel. How hateful can he get! People whose mommies' family has ties to the Nazis shouldn't be throwing Neville Chamberlain references around. George Bush has always reminded me of the nasty little rich kid on the playground that nobody liked, but they hung out with anyway because he had all the good toys. Now, if I never post another post, I will have gotten this out of my system.