Label Whore

In an interview with NBC news anchor Brian Williams, Sarah Palin, when asked whether or not she considered herself a feminist, said she doesn't like to label herself. Hmm. Really, Hockey Mom? Is that right, Pitbull in Lipstick? You don't say, Maverick? Seriously, Miss Wasilla? Don't like labels, huh? Well, I mean, except for Chanel, Valentino, Gucci, etc.
Hey, Sarah--remember when you said this?

“It’s like kind of providential yesterday what happened to me,” Palin said. “I am reading on my Starbucks mocha cup the quote of the day. You’ll never believe what the quote was! It was Madeleine Albright, former secretary of state and U.N. ambassador, and Madeleine has as her quote of the day for Starbucks — now she said it, I didn’t say it — ‘There is a place in hell reserved for women who don’t support other women.’

Actually, she said there's a place in hell for women who don't "help" other women, but whatever. Just want to make sure that I understand there's a place in hell for me if I don't "support" a woman who doesn't "support" other women?

Christopher Buckley Says Goodbye to NR, Republican Party

Christopher Buckley's Obama endorsement hasn't gotten as much attention as Colin Powell's, but at least the Right-Wing Blowhards can't call it "race based."
Through his blog on "The Daily Beast" Christopher Buckley (son of William F. and contributor to conservative publication "The National Review") wrote of his decision to support Obama. Shortly after, he decided to leave the NR. It's a good story, check it out.

From The Daily Beast:

I seem to have picked an apt title for my Daily Beast column, or blog, or whatever it’s called: “What Fresh Hell.” My last posting (if that’s what it’s called) in which I endorsed Obama, has brought about a very heaping helping of fresh hell. In fact, I think it could accurately be called a tsunami.

The mail (as we used to call it in pre-cyber times) at the Beast has been running I’d say at about 7-to-1 in favor. This would seem to indicate that you (the Beast reader) are largely pro-Obama.

As for the mail flooding into National Review Online—that’s been running about, oh, 700-to-1 against. In fact, the only thing the Right can’t quite decide is whether I should be boiled in oil or just put up against the wall and shot. Lethal injection would be too painless.

I had gone out of my way in my Beast endorsement to say that I was not doing it in the pages of National Review, where I write the back-page column, because of the experience of my colleague, the lovely Kathleen Parker. Kathleen had written in NRO that she felt Sarah Palin was an embarrassment. (Hardly an alarmist view.) This brought 12,000 livid emails, among them a real charmer suggesting that Kathleen’s mother ought to have aborted her and tossed the fetus into a dumpster. I didn’t want to put NR in an awkward position.

Since my Obama endorsement, Kathleen and I have become BFFs and now trade incoming hate-mails. No one has yet suggested my dear old Mum should have aborted me, but it’s pretty darned angry out there in Right Wing Land. One editor at National Review—a friend of 30 years—emailed me that he thought my opinions “cretinous.” One thoughtful correspondent, who feels that I have “betrayed”—the b-word has been much used in all this—my father and the conservative movement generally, said he plans to devote the rest of his life to getting people to cancel their subscriptions to National Review. But there was one bright spot: To those who wrote me to demand, “Cancel my subscription,” I was able to quote the title of my father’s last book, a delicious compendium of his NR “Notes and Asides”: Cancel Your Own Goddam Subscription.

Within hours of my endorsement appearing in The Daily Beast it became clear that National Review had a serious problem on its hands. So the next morning, I thought the only decent thing to do would be to offer to resign my column there. This offer was accepted—rather briskly!—by Rich Lowry, NR’s editor, and its publisher, the superb and able and fine Jack Fowler. I retain the fondest feelings for the magazine that my father founded, but I will admit to a certain sadness that an act of publishing a reasoned argument for the opposition should result in acrimony and disavowal.

My father in his day endorsed a number of liberal Democrats for high office, including Allard K. Lowenstein and Joe Lieberman. One of his closest friends on earth was John Kenneth Galbraith. In 1969, Pup wrote a widely-remarked upon column saying that it was time America had a black president. (I hasten to aver here that I did not endorse Senator Obama because he is black. Surely voting for someone on that basis is as racist as not voting for him for the same reason.)

My point, simply, is that William F. Buckley held to rigorous standards, and if those were met by members of the other side rather than by his own camp, he said as much. My father was also unpredictable, which tends to keep things fresh and lively and on-their-feet. He came out for legalization of drugs once he decided that the war on drugs was largely counterproductive. Hardly a conservative position. Finally, and hardly least, he was fun. God, he was fun. He liked to mix it up.

So, I have been effectively fatwahed (is that how you spell it?) by the conservative movement, and the magazine that my father founded must now distance itself from me. But then, conservatives have always had a bit of trouble with the concept of diversity. The GOP likes to say it’s a big-tent. Looks more like a yurt to me.

While I regret this development, I am not in mourning, for I no longer have any clear idea what, exactly, the modern conservative movement stands for. Eight years of “conservative” government has brought us a doubled national debt, ruinous expansion of entitlement programs, bridges to nowhere, poster boy Jack Abramoff and an ill-premised, ill-waged war conducted by politicians of breathtaking arrogance. As a sideshow, it brought us a truly obscene attempt at federal intervention in the Terry Schiavo case.

So, to paraphrase a real conservative, Ronald Reagan: I haven’t left the Republican Party. It left me.

Thanks, anyway, for the memories, and here’s to happier days and with any luck, a bit less fresh hell.

And a link to the original endorsement (if you're interested):

Knock On Wood

Who Knew?

Warning: Editorializing Ahead

It's no secret to anyone who sees me on a daily basis that I am no fan of Sarah Palin. Yes, there is a lot of gossip about her out there. And to be fair, that stuff's personal. Like, the fact that she's against teaching sex-ed in schools and in favor of teaching abstinence despite the fact that she has a knocked-up teenage daughter has nothing to do with her policies or her ability to make executive decisions. Sure, just prior to accepting McCain's offer to be his veep she wanted someone to explain what "exactly" it is that a VP does, but do YOU know what a VP does? Didn't think so. And yeah, seems she's got a reputation for firing (or having someone else fire) persons in her life who piss her off, but really--what does abuse of power have to do with the issues? And all this stuff about an affair? I mean C'mon! Just because the day after the interwebs picked up on the rumor the man she is alleged to have the affair with filed a motion with the Alaskan courts to have his divorce papers sealed and then another motion to expediate the first motion--so what?! That could mean anything. And even if she did have an affair, that is not how we should be judging someone's ability to do their job (ahem, Bill Clinton, cough cough John Edwards).
While I am getting sick of all the gossip about her (it is getting kinda old), I will say can you fucking imagine if Barack "Hussein" Obama had a pregnant teenage daughter who's baby daddy had a myspace page that said shit like "I'm just a nigga who likes to shoot shit up" and " I don't want to have kids"?! His campaign would be OVER. But, we love hypocrisy in this country so what is good for the white goose...you know where I am going.
In any event, tawdry tidbits aside and looking to the issues only, how can anyone believe a word this bitch says? And furthermore why, for example, when someone from CNN wants someone from her camp to answer for the fact that she said she told the Feds "No thanks!" to that "Bridge to Nowhere," when it is, in fact, the opposite of what she said, instead of an answer it's just "Look out for the 'liberal media'"? What, as Jerry Seinfeld would say, is the deal with that? It boggles the mind! I've attached here an article from those most liberally biased of sources Time magazine and CNN that summarizes nicely how full of shit and hypocritical this pitbull with lipstick is. Enjoy!

Sarah Palin thinks she is a better American than you because she comes from a small town, and a superior human being because she isn't a journalist and has never lived in Washington and likes to watch her kids play hockey. Although Palin praised John McCain in her acceptance speech as a man who puts the good of his country ahead of partisan politics, McCain pretty much proved the opposite with his selection of a running mate whose main asset is her ability to reignite the culture wars. So maybe Governor Palin does represent everything that is good and fine about America, as she herself maintains. But spare us, please, any talk about how she is a tough fiscal conservative.

Palin has continued to repeat the already exposed lie that she said "No, thanks" to the famous "bridge to nowhere" (McCain's favorite example of wasteful federal spending). In fact, she said "Yes, please" until the project became a symbol and political albatross.

Back to reality. Of the 50 states, Alaska ranks No. 1 in taxes per resident and No. 1 in spending per resident. Its tax burden per resident is 2 1/2 times the national average; its spending, more than double. The trick is that Alaska's government spends money on its own citizens and taxes the rest of us to pay for it. Although Palin, like McCain, talks about liberating ourselves from dependence on foreign oil, there is no evidence that being dependent on Alaskan oil would be any more pleasant to the pocketbook.

Alaska is, in essence, an adjunct member of OPEC. It has four different taxes on oil, which produce more than 89% of the state's unrestricted revenue. On average, three-quarters of the value of a barrel of oil is taken by the state government before that oil is permitted to leave the state. Alaska residents each get a yearly check for about $2,000 from oil revenues, plus an additional $1,200 pushed through by Palin last year to take advantage of rising oil prices. Any sympathy the governor of Alaska expresses for folks in the lower 48 who are suffering from high gas prices or can't afford to heat their homes is strictly crocodile tears.

As if it couldn't support itself, Alaska also ranks No. 1, year after year, in money it sucks in from Washington. In 2005 (the most recent figures), according to the Tax Foundation, Alaska ranked 18th in federal taxes paid per resident ($5,434) but first in federal spending received per resident ($13,950). Its ratio of federal spending received to federal taxes paid ranks third among the 50 states, and in the absolute amount it receives from Washington over and above the amount it sends to Washington, Alaska ranks No. 1.

Under the state constitution, the governor of Alaska has unusually strong powers to shape the state budget. At the Republican National Convention, Palin bragged that she had vetoed "nearly $500 million" in state spending during her two years as governor. This amounts to less than 2% of the proposed budget. That's how much this warrior for you (the people) against it (the government) could find in wasteful spending under her control.

One thing Barack Obama and McCain disagree on is an oil windfall–profits tax. McCain is against it, on the theory that it is a tax and therefore bad, and also that it would discourage domestic production. Obama is for it, on the theory that if oil companies can make a nice profit when oil sells for $50 per bbl., they can still make a nice profit when it sells for more than $100, even if the government takes a bit and spreads the money around to those who are hurting from higher oil prices.

Although Palin's words side with McCain in this dispute, her actions side with Obama. Her major legislative accomplishment has been to revamp Alaska's windfall-profits tax in order to increase the state's take. Alaska calls it a "clear and equitable share" tax. The state assumes that extracting oil from the tundra costs about $25 per bbl. and takes as much as 75% of the difference between that and the sale price.

Why is a windfall-profits tax good for Alaska but not for the U.S.? Well, it's obvious, isn't it? People in Alaska are better than people in the rest of the U.S. They're more American. Although there are small towns and farms and high school hockey teams in the lower 48, there are fewer down here, per capita, than in Alaska. And there are many more journalists and pollsters and city dwellers and other undesirables who might benefit if every American had the same right to leech off the government as do the good citizens of Sarah Palin's Alaska.


Oh yeah, I forgot about the Jesus shit. Well, that's not really a big deal, though. I mean, you really can't compare scientific "theory" to a 2000 year old book written by different people and compiled at different times and edited over and over that says unicorns existed. Can you? Nah, she's probably right, God created Man and then used one of his (Adam's--he's the one dude God created) ribs to make a woman so that he could have a companion. Then they mated and so on and so on. That's how we got here. Don't know why that fact is so hard for this Darwin dude to grasp?

Dick In A Box

Growing up I was a really shitty student. Every year on the days leading up to the first day of school I would tell myself how this year was gonna be different. This would be the year I would show up to class, and even do my homework. Eh. We all break promises.
Unfortunately, there seems to be a pattern to my behavior. Every morning I am going to eat right that day, exercise even! Every Friday I am going to put some money aside, not spend what little money I earn willy-nilly so that when rent comes around I'm taking the change into Coinstar. Every time I clean the litter-box is the last time I let it get that bad--from now on, I am going to clean it everyday! And when I started this blog I wasn't going to be one of those "one-hit wonders," those "everyone else is doing it, I may as well join in-ers," I was going to post insightful, meaningful, and humorous content every day! So, my apologies dear reader(s) (?). From now on this blog is gonna be better, fresher, newer, and with more stain fighting power.
But if you'd just indulge me for a bit by letting me make an excuse for my inactivity, I'd like to point out that the problem is my job. It's uninspiring. It's monotonous. It's predictable. It's dull. Yes, it does provide me with plenty of free time, but it leaves me with only enough energy to contemplate what my next move is and how much longer I can last there.
Please don't tell anyone I work with. They are all very nice people. Well, nearly all of them--there is that one asshole, and that cranky old bag, and that woman who's rarely there what with her "sick kid," and who even when she is there can't manage to smile. And that says a lot coming from me. I have a hard time turning this frown upside down but am able to manage the task every once in awhile. In the end those people don't even matter. 92% of all my time is spent sectioned off away from my co-workers. I even have headphones on and listen to music lest I have to hear any of their voices. We see each other in the cafeteria come lunch time, but still manage to avoid conversing with each other while we all face the one 19" TV hanging in the corner tuned into CNN with no volume on. Then at quitting time, we tip-toe out in the fear that someone might notice it's a few minutes before the hour and make a comment about our "leaving early nearly everyday" to the wrong person.
I hear it's different with the smokers. Now that we're all sufficiently grossed out by cigarette smoke and totally offended by the puffing perpetrators they've managed to band together in a designated outdoor area and talk about the rest of us while they figure out what it takes to move ahead.
It is as Billy Corgan says it is: Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.
Well, I see that it's 9:56. Better get to bed, gotta get up early tomorrow morning.

Good Grief!

I know I'm easily annoyed, but shit's annoying. My new job is going well in the sense that I get paid, but not so well otherwise. I'm sure it isn't a good sign when less than two months after your first day you dread the place.
Today after the too long drive home but tolerable traffic, I stopped by the bank to deposit my paycheck. How do I do it? How am I able to spot the asshole every time? It's a talent, and it never fails. I pulled up to what I just knew would be the fastest moving lane only to sit behind some ding-dong who couldn't decipher her deposit receipt for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes! Here's how long I was there: I drove up to the front of the bank and noticed a young girl in the driver's seat of a parked Ford Falcon. I thought that was kind of a cool car for a young girl to have and for a minute thought of my cousin, who drove my Dad's old Mustang when she was in High School. Then I pulled around to the back of the bank to enter the drive-thru. While sitting behind the dimwit in the Kia with the "Keep Austin Weird" bumper sticker, I noticed the girl in the Falcon again. She had the door ajar, and her left leg was hanging out. She was text messaging, and, apparently, waiting. We were all waiting. Minutes later a tow-truck arrived--one of the downfalls of driving a cool old car: they rarely work--and she got out and met with the driver. They chatted, pushed her car a bit so that it lined up with the back of the truck. He affixed the necessary chains and whatnot to the underside of her car, she steered it safely onto the bed of the tow-truck. She rifled through her backpack for a check to pay the man. They chatted a bit more. She left. He left. And I'm still in the god-damn drive-thru! I could see part of the perpetually pokey woman's face in her side view mirror. She was wearing glasses with a chain attached, and they had a tiny bit of the cat-eye. Only, she wasn't 80 years old. Whatever the hell you call that canister that you put your business in came down the tube and I thought "Oh my god! Here we go. Finally!" But no, she sent something else up the tube! I was at a loss. I didn't wanna honk, but had to do something. I rolled down my window and shouted "C'mon!" No response. "What the fuck?!" Nothing. Finally, she got her shit together and rolled, yes rolled out. "Hit the gas bitch!"
Ugh. I really should have more patience, I know. I think though, at least this instance was legitimately more trying than most of the stuff that wears me out. Like when I'm texting and I'm trying to type "Food" and my phone suggests "Dood". Or when it wants to capitalize random words.
Here's one last thing that really annoys me that I just thought of and must share: Although this doesn't happen frequently, I have had the occasion to pay for my goods and wares with a hundred dollar bill. And, occasionally, some wise-ass cashier will feel it necessary to get out their magic pen and scribble on the currency in order to make sure the bill isn't counterfeit. Are you joking with me? Put your fucking pen away and put my money in the till before I lose it!
I've got to get a hold of one of those pens. I can't wait for the day I hand over a large bill and have it scrutinized. And then, when my change comes back--tens and twenties even--out comes the pen. Now, lets just see how clean your money is, Mr. Tom Thumb!