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!