Hail and flamingos

It was a pretty surreal way to wrap up a workday...

Assholes Anonymous

"Okay, I guess we should get started. Hello, everyone. I'm Luann. Welcome to this week's Assholes Anonymous meeting. Remember this is a sharing environment, so no judging. I see a lot of familiar faces here, but a few new ones. Why don't the new people take a moment to introduce yourselves... Why don't you start?"

"Hi. My name's Brittney, and... I'm..." The pretty, young girl with the shaved head flaps her hands in front of her face like a humming bird trying to dry its nails. "Ewww!! Ewww!!! Brittney, don't cry!"

"It's okay, Brittney. We're all here for you," says Luann, comfortingly.

Brittney takes a deep breath and blows it out through pursed lips. "I'm Brittney, and I'm an... asshole!"

"There... Doesn't that feel better, Brittney? Now, can you tell us why you think you're an asshole?"

"Well... I pro'ly shouldn't use little Sean Preston as a dashboard ornament, but his head bobbles up and down just like those little baseball players you git when ya..."

Just then, the door burst open and a gangling man slides across the floor, coming to a stop just in front of Luann.

"Sorry I'm late! I actually put my head in my ass and it blew my freakin' mind!!!"

"You can have a seat, Mr. Richards. We just got started. Continue, Brittney."

"Well, I guess I probably shouldn't be partyin' until, like, 5 and flashin' my business to people when I got two small children. It just hurts when people stop talkin' 'bout me. I mean... There were weeks where I wasn't mentioned on the cover of Us Magazine. Ya fil me?"

"Well, what do you expect? Hangin' out with all those gay people... I hate gay people."

"What did I say about judgment, Mr. Hardaway? You too, guy from Grey's Anatomy," Luann states firmly.

"Right on, Luann. But, what do you expect from those guys? There both n-"

"That's quite enough, Mr. Richards!!! Oh! You think that's funny?" Luann points to the man sitting back in the corner, away from the group.

"Hey. Don't look at me. I just killed some people... Hypothetically! Y'know... I may have been on cocaine and there was this karate thing that I got into with Ron Goldman, and... Ah, crap. I don't even get royalties on this anymore."

"Mr. Simpson... In the history of AssAnon, I don't think I've ever said this, but please share less... The rest of you: Here's your 'Off the Hook Because I Went to Rehab' cards. Mr. Simpson, I'll see you here next week."

What makes an elephant?

I live in Cook County. Recently, Todd Stroger (County Board President) put forth a budget proposal that was balanced and avoided raising taxes. Now, Todd is a Democrat. Actually, he's more than a Dem - he's scion of "Machine Politics" here in Chicago. However, balancing a budget without raising taxes seems like a traditionally Republican thing to do. You would think that Republicans would be happy about it, but they're not. Tony Peraica, the Republican who led the ridiculous march on the County Building when he lost the election, has countered with a proposal that makes even more cuts - doesn't change the budget any... Just makes more cuts. The difference is that while Todd's proposal makes significant cuts in the Prosecutor's office, Tony's makes significant cuts in healtcare staff.

This got me wondering what difference (if any) there is between the elephants and the mules. This particular disagreement leads me to believe that the Dems are more concerned with providing people with adequate health care, while the GOP is more focused on putting them in jail. This actually makes a bit of sense to me since it has seemed that the Republicans mobilize around irrational fear (leading the constituency to vote against their better interest regarding the "Death Tax") and the Democrats mobilize around irrational hope (leading the constituency to vote against their better interests regarding things like Affirmative Action).

However, I know this isn't the whole picture.

The fact is: the parties are nothing more than brands. Worse than that, they're brands without any real product. The actual difference between their products is less than the difference between Miller Lite and Bud Light. They're both piss, but spend countless sums convincing you that one bottle of piss is better than another. It's not even tradition, given that the parties of today look nothing like the parties of 30 years ago. Hell, the Democrats were the ones for slavery back in the day.

The brands of the parties are nothing more than portfolios - portfolios of ideas they feel will win them elections. Come to think of it, sports fandom is just as ridiculous. Deciding to be a Cubs fan vs. being a Sox fan, means that you believe that the front office of the organization you root for will do a better job negotiating contracts with players and coaches than the front office of the other. There's no "Sox style" or "Cubs style" of play... Play is the result of investing in the coaches and players that the front office thinks could win but, more importantly, fill seats.

Still, I'm a Cubs fan. Why? I used to root for both teams. Eventually, I found Sox fans so distasteful that I couldn't root for that team anymore. Actually, that's why I'm a Democrat, too.

Let's see Tim Hardaway get his house decorated now...

I'm not one to give the Bozo buttons for doing what should be done, but thank you NBA for using whatever leverage you have over Tim Hardaway to exact discipline for his dumbass, ignorant comments. I mean, it's no secret that guys who get paid to play sports for a living aren't flooding the Mensa admissions department with applications but, in or out of context, Hardaway's remarks expose a disturbing level of ignorance.

It's good that this is getting front page coverage. I feel sad that it's not getting the same level of coverage that, say, Carson Kressley coming out and saying, "I hate black people. I just want to distance myself from them. They shouldn't be in the United States" would*. Or, for that matter, a gay Native American coming out (pun intended ipso facto) and saying, "You know who sucks? White men. Especially straight, white men. I mean, it's not their country in the first place, and they made it so... tacky!**"

I mean, replace the "gay" in Hardaway's rant with just about anything else, "whites," "jews," "women," even "Muslims," and you'd get a whole different level response. It's time to start taking people with the public ear to task for the bilious falsehoods they spread.

Hannity, you're next...

*for the record, I have never heard the leader of the "Fab 5" say anything like this; it's merely a thought experiment to prove a point.
**for the record, I don't know any gay Native Americans, although I bet they down apple-tinis with the swiftness of the deer spirit and have fabulous teepees***.
***i'm actually part Native American and express this with tongue firmly planted in cheek

It's entirely possible...

"Initially, I thought once we'd demolished the houses of every visually impaired quadriplegic little person in America and replaced it with a shiny, new home, we'd be finished. Now, I realize our work is only beginning. Meet the Hastings: Jeff, the patriarch of the Hastings family, stubbed his toe really bad last week. I mean really bad. It's all bruised and he might..." Ty Pennington chokes back a tear. "He might lose the nail... But, we're not gonna let that stop us, right?!?" Mr. Pennington picks up his bullhorn and bellows, "We're gonna give these people a new life... Right?!?" Despite his high volume antics, Mr. Pennington remains surprisingly un-punched-in-the-face.

Cut to Paul DiMeo, tech-geek-in-residence: "What we've done is install padded bumpers around the legs of all the furniture in the house, as well as the baseboards on all the walls. Should that fail, we've installed proximity detectors which will alert Mr. Hastings of any potential toe-stubbing hazards with both visual and auditory cues." To demonstrate, Mr. DiMeo walks toward a tasteful Shaker dining room table. As he approaches, bright strobes begin flashing and a screeching siren sounds. A recorded voice thunders through the room, "WATCH YOUR TOES! WATCH YOUR TOES!"

"Pretty cool, eh? I just hope..." He chokes back a tear. "I just hope he never has to go through that pain again. But, that's why we do this, right?"

Cut to Michael Moloney, ironically surnamed gay interior designer: "I spoke with Amber, Jeff's nine year old daughter, and she said she wanted nothing more than to..." He chokes back a tear. "Than to end her father's foot pain. So I've decided to create a special podiatry-themed space for her. See? Her jewelry holder is made of a toe separator. I've added a shelf which displays specimens of toenail fungus. I just love the way that catches the light."

Cut to a shirtless Ty Pennington in front of the Hasting's new home. "Jeff, we've gathered all your friends and neighbors to welcome you to your new toe-safe home. Say it with me now: Mr. Visually Impaired Quadriplegic Little Person Bus Driver; move that bus!!!"

Join us next week, when we build an Affir-mansion for a woman who's having second thoughts about her career path.

Outside chance I'm Anna Nicole Smith's baby's daddy

I'd just like to throw my hat into the ring. I'm not saying I ever knowingly had sex with Anna Nicole Smith, I'm just saying there have been a few nights when I've been pretty drunk, and... Y'know - stuff happens.

Death is always tragic, especially unexpected demises. Still, I feel a kind of wonder and bemusement at it all. I think Garv said it best when he said, "Death is like slapstick. One minute you're there, and then..." I don't think death is as hard on the ones who up and die as it is on the ones left behind, and my heart goes out to those who were left behind who care about Ms. Smith. Fortunately (depending on how you look at it), most of them beat her to the punch.

I think one of the things this has really demonstrated to me is that dying is, possibly, the best possible thing you can do for your image. A year ago, A.N.S. was a joke. Six months ago, she became a tragic figure. Today, she's America's fallen sweetheart. CNN actually took space on their home page to ponder, "Is Anna Nicole the new Marylin?" No offense, but I don't think Anna Nicole ever read Tolstoy. They're both tragic blondes, but one was sublime, the other was just sad.

I used to think about death more when I was younger. I really never thought I'd live to be this old. Now that I have a family (love you, ladies), I actually fear death - not for what it is, but for what it can deprive me of.

I really hope that when I leave this mortal coil, I do it in spectacular fashion. If I can't do it saving the life of a child, I hope it's really ironic - say, some sort of bucket-kicking tragedy.

Shoulda watched the Puppy Bowl...

So... The thing that pisses me off most is that it's not like the Bears played a good game and got outplayed by the Colts - it's that, now, I have to face the off season knowing that the Bears squandered a chance to win it all by playing a crappy game. Odds are against them making it back to the big game next year...

Lots of people are calling for Rex's head, but he was only part of the problem. It's hard to make things happen when you don't have the ball, and the defense couldn't get Indy off the field. I know the Rex turnovers didn't help, but the games we lost this year were the ones where the defense looked ordinary.

The big issue is that now I'm staring down the barrel of another Cubs season... I think I'm getting tired of investing my emotions in situations where I have no way to impact the outcome. I can jump up and down, scream at the television, offer prayer to the notion I have of a higher power... None of it is going to change the course of events as they transpire on the field of play. So, the thing that bugs me is it just didn't look like the Bears players wanted the win as much as I did, so why should I care?

You too, Juan Valdez

I just want to take a moment to give a shout out to the first person to look at the beans on a coffee plant and think, "Damn. I bet if I roasted those over a fire, ground them up, and ran hot water through them..." It's a good thing.