PoPqUiZ Blog™

1. If you had the power to decide, would you ban the use of cell phones while driving?

2. If it were legal to drive while drinking a beer would you?

3. If someone gave you a brand new Ferrari Testarosa, how much over 70 mph would you drive it the first chance you got?

4. If the news said a big cockroach was found in the food someone ordered in your favorite restaurant, would you stop going there?

5. If you had to give up three things you truly love, what would they be?

Is Anyone Watching This?

I am starting to get really worried about the possibility of war with Iraq.
I mean, when Nelson Mandela starts publicly chewing out Bush for his arrogance and shortsightedness, does that cause anyone else concern?
In reply to Mandela's stinging comments, White House Spokesman Ari Fleischer mentioned other countries that are supporting Bush.
I looked at the list of supporters and they are: Australia, Great Britain, Israel, Japan, Kuwait, Qatar, the Czech Republic, Denmark, Hungary, Italy, Poland, Portugal and Spain.
Those who oppose Bush are: Canada, China, France, Germany, Russia, Syria...and Saudi Arabia is riding the fence.
Call me a pessimist, but I'd like to switch lists before I'd feel safe about us engaging in a bloody war in Iraq.
If we start bombing Iraq and they do have weapons of mass destruction, even their most powerful nukes wouldn't reach American shores. They could reach Israel though, and the Iraqis see Israel as a perfectly good surrogate target.
Israel showed restraint during the Persian Gulf War when they were fired upon, but they have nukes and nothing to stop them from retaliating this time if they get hit big. Ariel Sharron is just as trigger happy as Bush this go around.
Mandela is right. Bush is being shortsighted and arrogant.
If he opens this can of worms in Iraq, we taxpayers will spend decades trying to mop up the senseless mayhem and havoc Bush will cause in the Middle East.
Bush has a simplistic view of the budget, the needs of the taxpayers and war. He's not listening to the UN. He's not listening to economists and military leaders whose predictions are hardly encouraging if Bush follows up on his plans.
This is no longer a time we can afford to let a dumb guy ruin our country.

This Hair Shirt Itches

I have a few complaints I just have to get off my chest.

1. My next door neighbor Pete parks his truck in his driveway, right next to my office window.
Lately, every evening at 5:45 his new truck alarm goes off and he's mighty slow about clicking it off. It's a standard alarm with the same old tones, but I shouldn't have to hear wawa wawa wawa wawa wawa, then weed-o weed-o weed-o weed-o, then aouuuu aouuuu aouuuu aouuuu until he shuts the damn thing off. He needs to catch it by the second wawa.
Between that and his two yapping, mean little girly-girl male dogs who go berserk whenever they see me in my own backyard, I am about to give ole' Pete a garage sale.

2. A local right-wing talk radio station, KTSA, has a giant billboard on I-35 that says:
WAR WITH IRAQ...Ready!
I am not ready, my friends aren't ready and they are giving tourists a bad impression, making them think the whole town is full of shit.

3. Today I pulled up next to a red Ford F-350 ten-ton pickup with two bumper stickers on the back window. One said: "My boss is a Jewish carpenter."
That one was okay, my boss is a small Jewish woman from Canada.
The other sticker said: "Gun Control Means Using Both Hands."
What is wrong with these Christians who love guns so much? I really don't think Jesus would have been a gun nut.
And, with this guy driving an F-350 hog of a pickup, his truck bed ought not to have been so shiny and clean. Either use it for real work or buy something that doesn't suck so much gas, you gun toting, sense of entitlement sumbitch.

4. That loser who abandoned his little toddler stepson in a Utah grocery store? He needs to be horsewhipped. Give me the whip, I'll do it.

5. Wannabe shoe bomber Richard Reid got sentenced to life for trying to light the plastique explosives in his boot while traveling on a transatlantic jetliner. More than 200 people would have been killed had he succeeded in lighting the fuse.
Life? Why not execute the goofy looking jerk? Now he'll have a lifetime to talk other prisoners into becoming Al Qaida sympathizers.

Whew, I feel better now. It really pays to get your feelings out.

One More Tiny Bit of Revenge

I had this close friend, Kay Fields (name altered), who had the most extraordinary barbecue sauce recipe she used at her bar every Thursday on steak night.
The sauce would transform even Styrofoam into a delicious grilled entree.
She had dreams of marketing her sauce, so she would not part with the recipe.
I, being her good friend, insisted she part with the recipe.
She insisted many times she would not, claiming I would spread it all over the world.
I swore I would not. Still, she wouldn't budge.
So one night I was with my girlfriend and another friend at my dining room table and Kay called. She sighed and said she was ready to give me the recipe.
Excitedly, I mouthed to my companions what was about to happen.
I got a pen and paper and started to write down the ingredients.
"You take two cans of Lone Star beer and boil for an hour."
Odd, but plausible, I thought.
"Then you add a big can of stewed tomatoes." I wrote that down.
"Then you add a finely minced two of clubs."
Huh? Two of cl...?"
The bitch was toying with me. She cackled and hung up.
I called back. "Katie Fields. Remember the name."
Next day, I enrolled Katie Fields in AARP and started sending in response cards to funeral homes, cemeteries, mobile home sales, Jehovah's Witnesses, gyms, Fruit of the Month clubs and anyone else I could find that would send her a "colorful brochure."
All addressed to Katie Fields.
A month later, Kay called and said, "What's with all this fucking junk mail?"
"If I don't get that bbq sauce recipe soon, you'll be prying your mail out with a crowbar by Christmas," I replied.
I got the recipe a few weeks later.
Anyone want it?

Rush loves Bush

Sweet Revenge

A fellow blogger friend of mine had to go underground after something she wrote about her job fell into the wrong colleagues' hands and got her into some serious trouble.
The two guys who worked with her took way too much joy in setting the wheels in motion toward ruining her career, based on two obviously satirical sentences she wrote.
We rebloggers at her secret site have been having a lot of fun suggesting revenge ideas. This was the best revenge story I've ever heard:

Got someone who screwed you over really bad?
Give them a garage/yard/rummage sale.

1. Take out some ads in a few local throwaway newspapers:

GARAGE SALE:
301 Maple Street
Saturday and Sunday, 6 a.m. to 9 p.m. Early birds welcome.
Ladies' designer clothes, almost new, size 12. Men's Armani and Ralph Lauren suits, size 42 reg. Playstation, new in box, $15. XBox new, $17. New Gameboys $10 each. Pool table w/ new felt, $75. Leather couch, good shape $65. Matching chairs, $30 each.
DVD player, $25. DVDs, $4 each. Loaded Dell Computer and all accessories, 1 year old, $250. Motorcycle parts, adult videos. Hummel and Lladro figurines. Snap On Tools, full sets, $40. Antiques, guns and rifles, skis, fishing poles and related gear. All priced to sell fast! FREE hot dogs and Cokes for the kids! Local checks accepted. Se hablo Español.

Osama and Saddam Chat

Karen Zipdrive's State of the Union Address
(my presidential fantasy)

My fellow Americans:
Here's the deal.
I hate Saddam and I think he's dangerous and nuts, so I am funding anyone who wants to shoot him or overthrow him. A billion dollars cash to the person or people who can kill his ass. You'll also make scads more on personal appearances, a book and movie deal.
Same offer goes for Bin Laden. Kill him, get cash.
I love my troops. I don't want them to get hurt, so they can all come home now. Oh, and free airline tickets and hotel rooms to anyone who wants to fly over and try to whack those clowns.

Old people are getting screwed with health care.
From now on, anyone old who can't afford really great insurance gets their health care free. We'll pay for it from the billions we save on not having a war.

Frivolous lawsuits.
Nobody can make more than $3 million on any settlement. Lawyers can only collect 25% of any settlement monies. Doctors who keep fucking up and getting sued will be de-licensed, except for getting to practice general medicine in prisons.

Taxes. The rich have skated by long enough. Loopholes are bullshit. Everyone pays 15 or 20% of what they earn from now on. Bill Gates and Oprah, pony up. You can fire your million dollar accountants and tax attorneys. Just send us 20 percent of what you made last year. If you make under $20,000 a year, you don't have to pay anything. Oprah and Bill will pick up your share.

AIDS. This is some bad, bad juju. Free health care and meds for anyone with AIDS. More funding for research and vaccine development.

Cigarette taxes.
Cigs will now cost $10 a pack. The manufacturer makes $1 and we get the rest. Taxes will go to education and old folks' medical care.

Marijuana. Legalize it and tax the bejeebers out of it. Farm subsidies are over. No more paying farmers not to grow stuff. Farmers can now grow marijuana instead, which will fetch them $5. a pound, or more than any crop they've ever grown. The pot be graded and sold to over 21 people through government stores. A pack of 20 pretty good joints will run $20. A pack of 20 kickass joints will run about $300. If a pound retails for $1,500 and the farmer gets $5, we'll get $1,495 per pound in tax revenues. That's a lot of dough to be used in education and vocational programs.

More funding for the arts.
When a culture is studied centuries later, they don't look at their guns, they look at their fucking art. Let's give them something to look at.

Prison reform:
No more meat, sugar, caffeine or tobacco. Classical music. Mandatory therapy. Yoga, not weightlifting. Twelve step programs for all who need them. Mandatory vocational training. Grow their own foods. Sew their own uniforms. Compassionate guards. Solitary confinement will now be called contemplative safety.

Teachers. Subsidies to increase base teacher salaries to $40,000 a year. Income taxed at 10%. All administrators must have a minimum of ten years' teaching experience to qualify as administrators.

Gay rights. Get married. Have kids. You pay the same taxes, you get the same rights as straight folks. Period.

Abortion. None of the government's business.

Welfare. You want free money? Okay, but you have to work for it, somehow, some way. And you're gonna be taking some kind of vocational training. We'll hold you up while you're getting squared away, and if you are too sick to work, we got you covered.

Churches. Your chapel, mosque or synagogue property remains tax free. Any other property you own that generates income is taxed. If your clergy earn more than $20,000 annually, they pay income tax just like everyone else.

Oh, and God Bless America.

A Fly in the Ointment...

"We seek peace. We strive for peace. And sometimes peace must be defended. A future lived at the mercy of terrible threats is no peace at all. If war is forced upon us, we will fight in a just cause and by just means — sparing, in every way we can, the innocent. And if war is forced upon us, we will fight with the full force and might of the United States military — and we will prevail. And as we and our coalition partners are doing in Afghanistan, we will bring to the Iraqi people food, and medicines, and supplies … and freedom."
George W. Bush, State of the Union Address January 28, 2003

A valiant concept, however, war with Iraq would be a tremendously bloody ground war. Thousands upon thousands of innocent Iraqi citizens will be caught in the crossfire and killed or maimed. American bombs will level miles and miles of neighborhoods.
In short, there may not be many remaining Iraqis to liberate from Saddam's vicious dictatorship.
The war George Bush intends to wage will level Iraq.
If attacked, Saddam himself has threatened to burn his own oil fields, releasing toxic air particulants that will suffocate thousands more.
And like the search for Bin Laden, there's no guarantee Saddam will be apprehended, killed or ousted from power. He may not even be in Iraq when the blood starts flowing.
I believe we'd be far better off funding a coup d'etat or having Saddam shot by an assassin like the rabid dog he is.
That's the only way to truly liberate the Iraqi people, and minimize civilian casualties in the process.

The Pulp Friction Response

First, I have to hand it to the excellent speechwriters the President used in crafting his state of the union address.
They drafted a speech that was succinct and without complicated phrases that would verbally trip up the President's delivery and make him look dense.
He needs to learn to pronounce "nuclear," and it's inexcusable that he refuses to do so.
That said, in his far reaching speech, the tax cut portion seemed delivered by rote without any discernible understanding on his part.
I failed to see how his budget proposals will create broad-based growth. Eliminated taxes on stock dividends, for example, doesn't have anything to do with helping any but the top 1% of Americans.
The Medicare topic also seemed like so many words without much substance.
Prescriptions for the elderly is tied to them leaving Medicare. Old folks shouldn't have to leave Medicare and move to an HMO to get prescription drugs. It's not a safe or secure option, and he swept that fine print under the carpet.
When the President mentioned the pandemic of HIV and AIDS in Africa and announced his proposal for a multi million dollar U.S. assistance package, I listened with great joy.
America has a moral obligation to be a benevolent force in the world. Africa is in dire need of assistance, especially with the HIV AIDS devastation that has swept every region in the area. The United States should help and it heartened me to hear a Republican address it. Reagan never mentioned the word AIDS in eight years. I applaud the President for his grasp of the crisis in Africa, and encourage him to address the problem of HIV and AIDS with equal zeal in our own country.
Faith based initiatives are not a viable option for drug abuse or AIDS treatment. There's a separation of church and state and it should be maintained.
Finally, the President's stance on Iraq was very compelling. He seemed to understand what he was saying and believe it with great conviction.
His most credible statements were on the topic of Iraq, and I am sure he was sincere in his aims, regardless of the wisdom they may lack.
Though the content of his speech tonight was filled with dubious claims and some political double-talk, I think he did a very good job of delivering his speech and came across as someone with a reasonable intellect. A refreshing change for the President.

An interesting AOL poll, taken on the eve of the state of the union address

What should be President Bush's top priority?

54%· Economy 128,299
27%· Iraq conflict 63,913
16%· War on terror 38,005
4% · Medicare 8,396
Total votes: 238,613

Is Bush leading the country in the right direction?

53%· No 125,615
47%· Yes 111,714
Total votes: 237,329

Haiku: Bonsai Bush

Dubya's speech tonight
Tight scripted so he can read
Phonetically

He'll out start like this:
"My fellow Americans"
and end with cliches

if the budget's so weak
why is he wanting billions
for his daddy's war?

sad old ladies say
where are our prescriptions, George?
he say he don't know

beauty's just skin deep
but dumb like George Dubya's
goes right to the bone

Karl Rove, where are you?
he's under the podium
hand up puppet's butt

God Bless the U.S.
May You keep an eye on us
protect us from dunce

I didn't vote Bush
But then neither did most folks
Supreme Court did this

The State of the Union Address

Oh yeah? Well I have articles, too

I prefer to read about politics and war independently and formulate my own views to express on my blog.
Still, I received an e-mail from Bushwatch.com
today and found so many succinct pieces on what the resident is doing, I just have to encourage people to link up and read for themselves.
If you find yourself curiously dissatisfied with the job Bush is doing and can't quite put your finger on why that is, this site can help clarify things.

The State of the Onion Address

Tonight, resident Bush will deliver his state of the union address.
According to news reports, he will attempt to assuage the public's doubts about the war with Iraq, and sell his plans for tax cuts and a Medicare overhaul.
Then he'll throw in something about prescription drugs for the elderly. The thing is, he's already had years and years to keep that promise, and he hasn't.
Here are some challenges he'll have to address.
According to recent national surveys:
• More than half - 53 percent - responding to a poll by the Pew Research Center for the People & the Press said the resident has not yet explained clearly what is at stake to justify war with Iraq.
• Opinion surveys show that support for military action against Iraq is at its lowest level ever among the British public. As our greatest allies, Bush will have to justify his assumption that the UK will fall in line. He may have to also address the dearth of support among our other allies.
• In the United States, the public has grown increasingly skeptical about Bush's handling of the economy, with 44 percent approving of his economic stewardship and 49 percent disapproving in an NBC-Wall Street Journal poll.
• Only 35 percent in that poll said they expect Bush's $674 billion, 10-year stimulus plan - most of that committed to tax cuts - will be very effective or ''fairly effective'' at helping the economy.

Seems like the rest of the country is starting to see what some of us have seen for a while now. The resident doesn't know what he's doing and he's in over his head.
War with Iraq is still puzzling. Saddam arose from the shadows to suddenly become Public Enemy #1, and I still can't figure out why he replaced Osama Bin Laden for that dubious distinction.
The budget is rocketing toward the toilet. Tax incentives like write-offs for giant SUVs and trucks for small business owners make absolutely no sense.
Medicare cuts will hurt the neediest people and cause many to be deprived of life sustaining treatments and medicines. As I said earlier, if prescriptions for the elderly were truly a priority for the Bush administration, they've had ample time to get it done.

Bush can talk a good game about what he has planned for us, but the fact is, he's not coming from a place of strength and leadership. Talk is cheap.
His agenda is nebulous, if not downright mysterious.
I can't think of one thing he's pushed that serves my needs as a tax paying American citizen.

Our country is strong enough to weather this storm called the Bush administration.
He'll leave office with great damage left in his wake and it'll take years to repair what he's screwed up.
I can think of nothing his administration has contributed to make life better for Americans.
Hear me now and believe me later.

Super Bore Sunday

Well. I am certainly not caught up in the Super Bowl frenzy.
In fact, I was searching the TV Guide for a polar opposite and gleefully found a "Two Fat Ladies: Bigger, Better, Butter" marathon on the Food Network.
Nothing like a steak, pan fried in a pound of butter to make me think about the good old days. Actually, I never was a steak n' butter type cook, but I could see how the two might work together.

I just got back from seeing the movie "Frida" a second time. Salma Hyack, even with the unibrow and mustache, was Mexilicious. The movie explains beautifully why so many of Frida Kahlo's paintings were so freakish. Yipes.

The Fat Ladies are making onion soup with Stilton cheese in it. They are frying some croutons in oil right now to go with it. "You can never have too many croutons," one of them said. They had crumbled bacon in a bowl to add to it.
No wonder one of them croaked.

I better go ride my bike.

You Know You're an Adult When...

I must be getting really old.
I am jonesing for a new vacuum cleaner. Not just any vacuum, I want a bagless, whirlwind HEPA filtered baby who'll suck up a bowling ball, or at least suck up the pennies I am always dropping on the carpeting.
I surfed the net last night looking for consumer information. Sears has a few nice (but expensive) ones, but Target has a really nice Eureka Whirlwind bagless for $130 bucks or so. It got 5 stars by consumers.
I have come out of denial about my cats being short-haired and therefore not too sheddy. To be honest, they shed enough fur to make pashmina shawls for everyone reading this. They sneeze and fur flies. It's starting to get on my sinus nerves, and I am not even allergic to kitties.

Speaking of fur, my best friend Anna's got this friend Ann who is richer than Tiger Woods. Honestly, she's Texas rich. She's got diamonds that could remove a car windshield. Her next door neighbor used to be actor Tommy Lee Jones, and she could buy and sell that old bastard.
So Ann gives Anna this mink vest for Christmas.
Only it's not mink it's faux fur.
Seems Ann went to Sam's Club and found these vests for $20 each. When the other Sam's shoppers saw the obviously rich Ann fondling the fakes, they started flocking around like vultures.
Ann's shopping gene went on high alert and she ended up gathering an armload of the mink-like garments and heaving them into her cart.
She ended up buying 20 of them that she converted to Christmas gifts.
Fortunately, I was not on Ann's Christmas list.
Fur vests always remind me of Sonny Bono during his "I Got You, Babe" days.
But Anna looks great in hers.

Woof

I am not a dog owner but I like dogs, as long as they don't stink too much, don't hump my leg or get up in my face.
Animal Planet has on the AKC National Invitational Championship dog show tonight and it's really sort of fascinating.
Dogs, unlike cats, can be trained to sit or stand a certain way and be still.
Cats would rather die.
Dogs will do anything to please their master and even more for an occasional treat.
Cats may eat a treat if they feel like it, but certainly not so they can please their owners.
Dogs look happy when they are happy. They wag their tails just so you'll know.
Cats like to disguise their happiness. They only wag their tails when they are pissed off.

Still, I prefer cats. They are more like women.
It's more challenging to get them come when you want them to and even harder to win their love.
And they won't prance around with you in front of a crowd, looking like they are having a great time... unless they really, really mean it.

Life: It's the Little Green Things That Count

Tonight the Iron Chef is having a broccoli challenge.
I am not a huge broccoli fan, especially when the challenger is making broccoli ice cream, squid ink pasta with broccoli and a fruit salad made with broccoli stems soaked in wine.

I'll pause now while my readers mop the projectile vomit off their monitors.

I do appreciate the bizarre, and a broccoli cook-off between two guys in Japan doing Italian cookery using broccoli as the main theme is plenty bizarre.
I went out for Thai tonight. Pad Thai and shrimp clay pot. It was great, and besides the noodles in the pad Thai, I stayed pretty much within the Diabetes Deprivation Zone.
My dining companions had friend bananas drizzled in honey for dessert.
I came home to a sugar free Fudgesicle. And broccoli on TV.

Back With a Vengeance

Thanks to my good friend Grey Bird for posting a message about my computer problems. I am all fixed up now.
To all who commented about the fuckupedness of my iMac, it wasn't an iMac problem, it turned out to be an AOL problem.
Macs are good computers. None of that cdrivebackslashbootupWindows™ crap.
I work mine half to death, stuffing it with fat-assed software programs, jpgs, files and files of files and files and all kinds of other crap.
Each morning, mine just turns herself on, makes me coffee and brings me delightful
e-mail from a hoard of eager entrepreneurs wanting to sell me penis enlargers, bust enhancements, remortgage loans, credit card offers, photos of underage girls with barnyard animals and Viagra delivered by mail in discretely unmarked boxes.
So it was not my iMac. She is temperamental but basically a good, loyal workhorse.
Blame AOL. It sucks but it's free for me. So there you have it.

It's still cold here (40º) but the drizzle and gray skies make it seem even colder. It's one of those days where one wears fleecy loungewear and sits near a window reading a book while drinking one of those phony General Foods flavored instant coffees.
Actually, I am doing none of those things, but if I was the type, this would be the kind of day for that.

I am anticipating a call from my angelic computer tech Tricia to see if she and her partner Irene would prefer we go to a restaurant tonight or I cook for them here.
Irene is allergic to cats, so dinner here would have to include a sidetrip to buy a heavy duty bagless vacuum cleaner with a HEPA filter.
I've needed one of those anyway, so this would be as good an excuse as any.

I never have to actually pay Tricia money for helping me fix computer woes. We always work out some kind of multilevel prize package instead. Today she got dinner for her partner and her, a DVD we ordered off Amazon and some other wampum I'd rather not mention. Bartering is a wonderful thing.

So that's my Saturday. How's yours going? What do you people up in all that snow and ice do on days like this?

Public Service Announcement

Karen Zipdrive is currently experiencing computer problems. She will be back to entertain you with stories about her sad, pathetic Mac computer sometime on Saturday.

Today's Temperatures

San Antonio: 47ºF and sunny
Montreal: 3ºF with snow flurries

I have one winter garment, a jacket, just slightly insulated.
I kept kidding myself into thinking I could wear it in Canada when I go up there in a few weeks.
Fact is, I've never been in three degree temperatures.
I have no idea what 3º feels like, but I know what 30º feels like and it makes me numb within about two minutes just thinking about it.
This much I know: my wimpy little jacket isn't going to cut it in Montreal.
So off I went, foraging for a "good winter coat" in Texas.
I was not going to get one of those Michelin Man, down-filled, fat people coats.
I haven't been eating lettuce and chicken breasts for four months so I can look like I've gained weight.
Anyway, there was this very nice, classic black wool coat, 3/4 length by Liz Claiborne. It fit well and looked very dressy.
Trouble is, when I go on vacation, I am not very dressy.
Besides, in 3º weather, I don't think wool would be warm enough.
So, I decided to sacrifice looking good for staying warm.
I ended up with some kind of medium green, subzero coat with plaid fuzz inside and secret pockets. I already removed the hood. I don't care how cold it is, I look like a fool in a hood.
It has zippers and buttons and pull cords and sleeve cuffs that can be tightened with Velcro straps. It has features, man.
And I don't look like the Michelin Man when I have it on.
Michelin Woman, well, maybe...

Rant n' Rove

We all know Resident Bush is probably not evil, per se.
Evil takes a certain level of intellect, which the resident does not possess.
What we need to start looking at is Karl Rove, the master marionettist who holds the resident's strings.
Though one can stipulate to the resident's guileless nature, one cannot overlook some of his recent actions that remove any doubt about the evil that lurks within the puppet house.
Did anyone notice that the resident's stance on minority admissions policies at the University of Michigan occurred on or around Martin Luther King Day?
Now, that was just nasty. That was a "fuck you, MLK" move.
Thanks, Karl Rove!
Then the resident's sub-puppets announce part of their economic package allows business owners to buy the biggest, baddest gas guzzlers on the road and virtually write them off on their taxes.
Heading into war with an oil rich enemy and encouraging American business owners to waste fuel is yet another "fuck you" from the White House. I smell Karl Rove again.

Let's face facts.
September 11 was America's worst day in history.
A chimpanzee could have faced the nation and mimed how we were gonna get those bad guys, and the nation would have cheered.
In a lackluster residency before 9/11, Dubya needed something catastrophic to lube his way back into office. Rove played the background violin solo and gave Dubya the sounds with which to hum along. His off-key humming was rather endearing at a time when we all needed some kind, any kind of lullaby.
So we still don't elect Dubya, but his brother's state fucks up the vote and the stacked Supreme Court shoos him in anyway.
Even so, the toxic clouds of 9/11 still stung our eyes, so we as a nation said yes to the resident, do send our people and supplies over to Afghanistan to kick Osama Bin Laden's ass.
"You can run and you can hide, but we will hunt you down and get you," said the steely eyed resident to network cameras.
Sixteen months later, no capture, and Karl Rove has trained the resident not to utter Bin Laden's name.
Suddenly, Saddam Hussein, whom we hadn't heard squat from in 10 years, emerges as public global enemy number one.
Karl Rove to the resident:
"If they bring up Osama, you bring up Saddam!"
"If they bring up questions about why Saddam all of a sudden, you question their patriotism!"
"If they march against war in Iraq, you tell them they are marching with evil people who back evil things!"
"If they bring up the budget, you bring up Saddam!!"
"If they bring up racial issues, you trot out Condie and Colin!"
"If they bring up affordable prescriptions for the elderly, you bring up Saddam!"
Bush is doing just that and people are buying it.
I love America and I wave my flag proudly.
But Bush is not America, we didn't elect him and we need to stop swallowing this crap Karl Rove is telling him to say.

Today's cartoon

Just When You Thought Dubya Couldn't Get Any Stupider

DETROIT, Jan. 20 — The Bush administration's economic plan would increase by 50 percent or more the deductions that small-business owners can take right away on the biggest sport utility vehicles and pickups.
The plan would mean small businesses could immediately deduct the entire price of S.U.V.'s like the Hummer H2, the Lincoln Navigator and the Toyota Land Cruiser, even if the vehicles were loaded with every available option. Or a business owner, taking full advantage, could buy a BMW X5 sport utility vehicle for a few hundred dollars more than a Pontiac Bonneville sedan, after the immediate tax deductions were factored in.

okay, one more

Just one more

Oh no, another one

Here's my answer to Barcodie's new comic strip. Let's hope this works.
Pulp Friction Funnies!

How to Avert War but Still Kick Some Ass and Make Some Money

I have combined my entrepreneurial mind with my leftist anti war leanings and come up with a product that will preserve our national pride while punishing those who defy us.

Exploding American Flags.

Yep. You try to burn or stomp on one of these babies and you can say hello to the nearest prosthetician, Stumpy.
We export a mess of them to the Middle East, and since they go through our flags like matches anyway, there's already a chronic shortage.
Then we watch the CNN coverage of the next Iraqi protest against us and **BLAMMO** there goes another terrorist's leg.
It's the Exploding American Flag, it stops protesters in their tracks AND it provides jobs for Americans!

You wanna stomp on or incinerate Old Glory?
Go ahead, Al Qaida, make my day.

For information on how YOU can become a wholesaler or retailer for this fine American product, contact Karen Zipdrive at this blog.
And God Bless America.

Blog Lies, Real Life Lies, Lies in General

I was thinking about how blogging has no ethical standards for honesty, grammar or syntax, and why that makes it fun because you don't have to agree to do much more than kinda spell right to be considered a viable blog.
See? I just got by with a run-on sentence with no accountability whatsoever.
So the questions are, did I lie as a journalist and do I lie on my blog?
I didn't lie as a journalist.
I can't recall lying on my blog, but to tell the truth, sometimes I do lie. I just can't recall if I have lied here.
After age 40, the taxes come due on all the pot we smoked in the 70's.
We have to pay in brain cells. The tax collector prefers payment in memory cells.
I am all paid-up, but the taxes just about bankrupted my memory account.
It's easier for me not to lie, because it's far too difficult to get caught and try to remember what may or may not have actually occurred.
It's an indefensible dilemma.
However, some lies I believe in telling with neither restraint nor regret:
"No, that doesn't make you look like the Hindenberg."
"Thank you, this is a lovely knick knack."
"Yes, it is the cutest (puppy, kitten, baby, tattoo) I've ever seen."
"Oh, I am sorry, I can't eat this-diabetes, you know."

If I did lie, I could have an infinitely more fascinating blog. Example:
Last night I met up with Jodie Foster at Guero's Bar in Austin.
Well, I didn't meet up with her specifically, I was with a bunch of friends and so was she. Our friends knew each other, and before you knew it, I was seated next to her at a picnic table. She bought me a Shiner Bock.
"So, Jodie," I ask. "You ever been with a big girl?"
"Yes, and I LOVED IT," Jodie said.
"So Jodie, you think I'm a big enough girl for you?"
"Uh huh," she purred.
Well, I like Jodie and all but, damn, she really pissed me off when she didn't do the role of Clarise Starling in "Hannibal."
So I says, "Jodie, baby, you're a doll but I can't be your big girl."
"Oh, and why is that?"
"I got a girlfriend in Canada, Jodes."
"Lucky girl!"
"She thinks so."
So Jodie takes my hand and says, "Can we at least be friends?"
And I say, "You got it, babe." Then I winked real big.

I am thinking one day a week should be Pulp Fiction day. That way I can make shit up and purge any urge I may have to tell lies.
Hmmm.

"Nonviolence is the answer to the crucial political and moral questions of our time: the need for man to overcome oppression and violence without resorting to oppression and violence.
Man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love."

Martin Luther King, Jr.
Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Stockholm, Sweden, December 11, 1964.

Slip Sliding Away...

The week after 9/11, George Dubya's approval ratings were 82 percent in a Gallop poll.
As of January 16, he has slipped to 56 percent.
His father had an 89 percent approval rating heading into the Persian Gulf War and slipped to 32 percent within a year and a half, marking the end of his abysmal presidency.
Between the economic slump caused by Dubya's ineptitude and/or benign neglect, high unemployment, an economic stimulus package designed to stimulate the already rich, and the growing opposition to his unvarnished lust for war, the shine is wearing off Dubya's halo.
D.C. police reports about the recent Washington anti war protests originally set the crowd at 100,000. They amended that number to 20,000.
As a former reporter who has covered countless rallies, I know from experience the police modify crowd estimates to satisfy their bosses whenever it's required. A quick glance at the vast assortment of AP photos and live televised shots of the crowds show there's no way the crowd was as small as 20,000. They lied to us and expect us to accept it.
Bush is slipping in the major, most credible polls because he's not doing a very good job.
Support for the war in Iraq is diminishing because people believe other options have yet to be exhausted.
White House spin doctors are trying to convince the public that there are fewer people against the war than we think.
As a former public affairs officer for the U.S. government, I know lies are told and facts are skewed. That's one reason I quit.
The little man behind the curtain is starting to wig out. He's not a wizard after all, he's just Dubya, a man who illustrates the Peter Principal to the fullest extent.
It's not un-American to question the leadership of a president. What's un-American is blindly following sub-par leadership in the naive comfort of a waving flag and the rattling of shiny sabers.

Just when you think the world is really starting to stink, there's Willie Nelson on TV, serenading President Jimmy Carter with the song "Georgia" in celebration of Carter's recent Nobel Peace Prize.
I'll say this much. If Carter was still leading this nation, we'd not be gearing up for war.

Bloggy Saturday

I have a sore throat. So does the girlfriend.
It's cold outside. I have cabin fever but I don't want to go out.
The lottery is up to $40 million. That means I could win $20 million.
Boy, that'd be nice.
I think my brain may be fried. Maybe with the money I could get a transplant.
Or maybe just some aspirin and throat spray is all I need.
That's it for today. I am spent.

Oh, Puleeze

"BAGHDAD (Jan. 17) - A defiant Saddam Hussein rallied Iraqis on the 12th anniversary of the 1991 Gulf War on Friday with a vow to rout U.S. troops at the gates of Baghdad.
The Iraqi president said he had mobilized his army and drawn up a plan to counter any invasion by the tens of thousands of U.S. soldiers, warplanes and ships now massing in the Gulf."

I don't want a war. Everyone knows that.
Thing is, I don't like to read about a "defiant Saddam," when we all know his troops are shot to hell after years of waging war with every Tom, Dick and Abdul in the region.
Given a choice, probably half the Iraqi people would like to see Saddam and his crazy sons dead anyway.
I am no fan of Dubya, but even with Clueless George at the helm, we have enough military strength and competent military leadership to squash Iraq like a bug.
The dilemma is, the Iraqi people shouldn't have to pay with their lives for the acts of a sniveling dictator who treats his own people like chattel.
There is some speculation in the German "Der Spiegel" magazine about Saddam and his goons perhaps taking exile somewhere abroad in exchange for averting a war with the United States.
Even in exile, I don't think Saddam could keep himself out of trouble.
In Texas, there is an unwritten defense for murder called, "the sumbitch needed killin'."
Take for example, a neighborhood drunk who shoots at dogs, poison cats and slaps around his wife. He also exposes himself to young girls, molests young boys, plays his music too loud and never mows his lawn. He points guns at people who confront him, he lets his dog crap on your lawn and he keys cars parked too close to his house.
Some might argue that sumbitch needed killin.'
That does not mean his wife and kids need killin' too.
And such is the case with Iraq.
The Iraqi people may need to kill him to save their own hides.

News Blog™
Half news, half snippy comments!

WASHINGTON (Jan. 15) - The United States on Wednesday warned Iraq against using civilians as human shields to try to ward off air strikes, saying such action would constitute "a war crime in any conflict."
An unnamed government official added, "That is unless the shields are Jim Carrey, Tom Green, Dr. Laura, Strom Thurmond, Trent Lott, Shaquille O'Neil or the Verizon 'can you hear me now?' guy."

WASHINGTON (Jan. 15) - President Bush, stepping into the most politically charged affirmative action case in a generation, asserted Wednesday that a program of racial preferences for minority applicants at the University of Michigan was ''divisive, unfair and impossible to square with the Constitution.''
When asked about getting "son of an alumni" preference points on his admission application to Yale University, Bush replied, "Well, you see, I am not a nigra so that's a mute point."

SEOUL, South Korea (Jan. 16) - North Korea rejected as "pie in the sky'' U.S. offers of talks and possible aid in exchange for abandoning its nuclear ambitions, accusing Washington on Wednesday of staging a "deceptive drama'' to mislead world opinion.
Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld said, "You don't want aid? Well, how would you like a Patriot missile up the ass instead, Ching-Chong?"

BARKSDALE AIR FORCE BASE, La. (Jan. 15) - U.S. pilots who dropped a bomb on Canadian allies in Afghanistan last April quickly grew worried that they had made a mistake, according to audio and video recordings of the deadly accident played at a military hearing Wednesday.
Less than three minutes after the bomb hit, killing four Canadians and wounding eight, Illinois National Guard Maj. Harry Schmidt said: "I hope that was the right thing to do.''
Maj. William Umbach, his mission commander replied, "Well, if it was Canadians, we can always say they had a hockey brawl."

WASHINGTON (Jan. 15) - Federal deficits should balloon to the $200 billion to $300 billion range over the next two years, President Bush's budget director Mitchell Daniels said Wednesday, a far bleaker view of the fiscal horizon than the White House had painted.
"Well, what can I say?" Daniels said. "I mean, we did what we could but Dubya wants a war and I said if he gave me this great job, me and my guys would help him out."

June 21: Mark the Date

Finally, J.K. Rowlings fifth Harry Potter book will be out on June 21.
In the book called "Harry Potter and the Jungle Called Suburbia," a 30-something Harry Potter will deal with dark secrets like:
-Why there are checks left when the money is all spent
-Hermoine's frigidity
-Crabgrass
-Harry junior's masturbation problems
-Overdue dues to the Order of Merlin Club
-His balloon mortgage
-Faulty brakes on his Dodge Caravan
-His need for bifocals

Procrastination Blog

I have work to do. Tomorrow is my deadline.
So, it's time for my monthly time wasting blog.

My salt was overtaking my pepper so yesterday I colored my hair. Hair color makes hair thicker. My hair has gotten a lot longer than I usually keep it, so this morning I woke up with my coif looking like Keith Richards.
It's a good thing the girlfriend is 2,030 miles away on mornings like this.
It's also a good thing I work alone.

Does anyone besides me think Mariska Hargitay from "Law and Order: SVI" is totally hot?
She's Jayne Mansfield's daughter, by the way. Same big brown eyes and general rackatude. I watch that show every Friday just to see what she does for casual workwear.

Another burning television question I have is this. Is it my imagination or are there several dozen permutations of Law and Order and CSI? If one can find The Simpsons running at any given time in Canada, the same goes for one or more of these crime shows in the states.
She pronounces her first name "Mar-ISH-ka." Just in case you want to chant it.

I also have an odd attraction to Vincent DeNofrio, who's on another of those permutation crime shows. He's so weird and intense, and he has very nice teeth. I love that he always looks like he's about to go berserk, but he never does.

Okay. I have nothing much to say today and it shows. Sue me.

Ain't Nothin' Gonna Break-a My Stride

I have found the answers to all my woes. New shoes. Actually, new boots if you are a stickler for details.
Here they are!
I also got some powerful, space age shock absorbent inserts so I can walk 500 miles, uphill, in snow without even so much as a muscle twitch.
I know these boots are "drizzle proof" and not actually "snow proof," but I figure they will be sufficient for a few days of snow exposure in a certain foreign city north of the eastern United States.
The main thing is they are very friendly looking, they look comfy and I suspect they are basically boot versions of my beloved Land's End all weather sports mocs.
I plan to do a Montreal Travelogue while I am up in that certain foreign city north of the eastern United States. With my days free, I will traverse on bootclad foot a six to ten block radius through the bitterly cold weather, and proffer my views of the place as an outsider.
At least that's what I plan from here in 57º sunny weather.
Once I get my thin-skinned Texas butt out walking in 3ºF Canadian weather, my travelogue might be short-lived and start with," Damn it's cold," and end with, "I am going back inside."
But one thing is for sure. My new boots will be ideal for any weather condition and I will be the envy of everyone in Canada.

What I Learned About Diabetes Yesterday (a public service blog)

My class went well yesterday. It was led by a 40-ish woman with a perky attitude and perhaps 1 percent body fat. Skinny little overachieving twerp!
Besides her, I was the youngest (and smallest) person there, so that it in itself was an education. Apparently my formerly sedentary, hedonistic lifestyle was not such a great idea after all. God, it was fun, though.

Here's what *does not* cause blood glucose levels to rise:
• water
• exercise
• breathing
Here's what *does* cause blood glucose levels to rise:
• everything else
The good news is, I found out any fake sugar ending in "tol" is an alcohol sugar. Sorbitol, mannitol, etc., do not cause the blood glucose level to rise quite as much as I thought they might.
Still, those fake sugars are most often used in diabetic products like cookies, candies, cakes and pies which contain flour and/or other bad things, so they are still part of a bad food selection. Grocery store diabetic treats are usually just plain bad.
Carrots are not a starchy vegetable after all, but acorn and butternut squash are. Fine. I like carrots and can do without those kinds of squash.
My suspicions turned out to be true: potatoes, for some people (like me) are worse than a chocolate bar rolled in sugar and dipped in honey. I have decided to walk away from them. They just aren't worth the angst, the delicious little troublemakers.
Pizza, I learned, is one of those foods that can prolong a spiked glucose level for hours on end. Pizza lingers on and on, with the fats egging on the carbs in a long ballet of elevated glucose torture. My pizza horizons are very limited.
Diabetics can have normal desserts as long as the meal before the dessert contains no carbohydrates. Such a dinner might consist of: four ounces of baked, skinless chicken without adornments, then dessert. Bleecch.
Butter is less harmful than margarine, but the best oils/fats to use are canola oil, olive oil and peanut oil. I am suspicious of canola oil and scared of peanut oil, so I use olive oil when I absolutely must have oil.
Deep frying is just the Devil's Kitchen Work and should be forgotten.
Pasta is better than potatoes, non-instant rice is better than pasta.
Summary: chicken, fish, whole grains and non-starchy vegetables are best to eat.
Sweet wines will fuck you up. Dry whites are best. Champagne is even better, if you can stop at a few measly ounces.
Isn't this disease a drag so far?

Blog Salad™

Today is my first day of "diabetes education," where Lila the certified diabetes educator will answer all my questions with, "You'll have to ask your doctor about that."
It runs from 1 to 4:30, just long enough to ruin my day and cause the entire class to go into glucose comas during rush hour on the freeway.

Looks like Survivor Amazon will start on February 13. I am not divulging any secret plans, but I plan to watch it with Aviva in a very cold location just north of the eastern United States.

With the Sopranos, Six Feet Under and Survivor on hiatus and a girlfriend 2,030 miles away, I realized I really have no life to speak of besides TV and the Canuck.

I stopped watching pro basketball. My team (the Spurs) are like a high quality wristwatch that loses ten minutes a day. They make me crazy with their inconsistency.

Every time I trim my toenails, I have a morbid fear of cutting myself and having to check into a wound healing clinic with a bunch of fat old men with impending gangrene.

I have lost four more pounds since Aviva left, so the black jeans I bought in a smaller size may now fit me without having to lie down to zip them up.

I am going to color over my gray hair with a lighter brown than my remaining brown hair so I can look like wKen (without the goatee).

I just remembered this writer's workshop I was in where we were asked to write about things we did for others during the holidays.
This woman said she bought a case of Mad Dog 20/20 and drove around on Christmas Eve, handing it out to lucky winos.
She said, "But I never buy the good stuff, it's too rich, it would upset they stomachs."

Aviva continues to beat me in Scrabble, but it's now just a 7-1 ratio instead of a 100 to 1 ratio. I keep waiting for her to accidentally slip a "u" into a word like color so I can challenge it and make her lose a turn.

A Word About Comments

Unless you want me to start doing Yoko Ono-inspired performance art on your blogsites, y'all better start laying down a little feedback, damn it.

...and Techiefluid, what's your new url?

Happy Birthday, Mom

Today was my Mom's 90th birthday. Here was our phone conversation:

M: Hello?
K: Happy Birthday, BooBoo!
M: Who's this?
K: It's Karen
M: Oh, hi Sharron
K: No, it's Karen, Mom
M: Yes I know. I hear you have good news from the doctor!
K: What doctor?
M: My eye doctor!
K: What did he say?
M: He said the red things in my eyes can be cured.
K: What red things?
M: The two leaders here introduced me all around to everyone at dinner.
K: Oh, you mean for your birthday?
M: Uh huh.
K: Did they give you a party?
M: Who?
K: The retirement home.
M: Oh no, the kids had a big dinner at lunch for me.
K: So, you had two parties today?
M: I had three!
K: You had three parties?
M: When?
K: Today, Mom.
M: Oh? You went to three parties today?
K: No Mom, I did some work, no parties.
M: Are you still working for that outfit?
K: Yep.
M: Uh oh, the people are here to visit me, I gotta go now.
K: Okay. Happy birthday, Mom. I love you. I'll be coming up soon to see...
M: You too! Bueno bye! (click)

Really Bad Jeans

I have gotten into the habit of shopping online for clothes because I hate malls and crowds so much. I don't really notice or keep track of fashion, I just buy the same kind of clothes all the time.
While Aviva was here, we hit a few malls just so she could get a taste of them.
What I want to know is this.
What happened to blue jeans? When did this trend for streaky skid marks start? The jeans they sell now look like they were washed in a dirty river, then used as grease monkey rags, then bleached to remove the motor oil. They look skanky, that's all there is to it.
Why would anyone buy new jeans pre-stained, with the ass sanded off?
And whose idea was it to bring back hip huggers?
When I was a young hippie type, we came by our fucked-up jeans honestly. We wore them until they fell off, and that's how we achieved that classic "worn-out" look.
Now kids plunk down $75 to buy fucked-up jeans they are too prissy to ruin themselves.
I tell ya, the kids today have it too easy.
(Yikes! Did I really say that?)

Apologies to Anna

My poor best friend Anna was inadvertently left out of my Lotto Fantasy. She complained bitterly this morning, which sounded even worse with her laryngitis.
She sounds just like the burger flipping teen who works in Krusty's Hamburger's on the Simpsons.
So, if I won the Lotto, which I didn't, here's what I'd have gotten for poor, pitiful Anna.

I'd get that hole she put in her brand new Benz fixed.
I'd get her even more of those $300 Prada casual shoes she likes.
I'd get the ladder in her lavish home library revarnished.
I'd pay her pool man, gardener, nanny and maid for a year.
I'd upgrade her frequent flights abroad to "Goddess" Seats.
I'd have someone else run the N.Y. Marathon for her so she could rest.
I'd pay a hypnotist to convince her her size 8 ass is not at all fat.
I'd bail out the country of Ethiopia so she didn't have to.
I'd take her to Vegas and let her have all the 79¢ shrimp cocktails she wanted.

I feel bad about omitting her from my Lotto fantasy. Clearly, she is a woman who needs so many things, and I'd be more than happy to provide them for her if I won.
Sorry, pal. I was a beast to forget you.

Victimized.

It had to happen one day.
I have been the victim of unauthorized nude photos, taken by the sneaky Canadian Jewish paparazzi.
It all started innocently.
See, we were in bed one morning and James was sleeping all curled up in the crook of her arm. I ran -quite naked- to grab her digital camera and I took some really adorable shots of them.
She had on a T-shirt and was under the covers, so my photos of her were chaste and innocent as newborn lambs.
When I went to crawl back in bed, I handed her the camera for safekeeping. It was then I was blinded by two flashes and the double whirr of her digital camera.
I said, at the time, "Hey, you didn't catch me naked, did you?" and she boldly lied, saying she "didn't think so."
So, last night she sends me two lurid photos. Well, one just showed the top of my breasts, so that was okay, but the other was just plain obscene.
I looked like an albino, furless polar bear. Naturally, lefty and righty were chilly in the morning air and, well, you know how that goes.
I have demanded she delete them from her files and she said she would.
I do not believe her.
I feel like Pamela Anderson, waiting for the lurid photo to appear on a website called "Naked Crones with really white skin."
I feel so...cheap.

Lottery Fantasy, Part XX

The Texas Lotto is at $25 million, and since I opted for the cash option, here's how I plan to spend my 12 mil.
1. Make someone else figure out all this immigration crap while Aviva and I go traveling on the Orient Express and QE2
2. Buy Barcodie a new, fully loaded computer except for the "w" on the keyboard, which I will personally pry off prior to delivery
3. Install a bumper car ride in one of the wings of my new mansion
4. Send a pair of Land's End casual suede sports mocs to all my bloglink buddies
5. Buy a giant Caterpillar front end loader, install a jet engine and get on I-35 and scoop slow drivers in the fast lane out of my way
6. Hire someone to move my legs up and down, simulating exercise, while I read a nice book
7. Commission a scientist to remove all that's bad from chocolate and leave what's left indistinguishable from real chocolate
8. Have Michael Jackson's dermatologist visit Condaleezza Rice and Colin Powell so they can go ahead and become totally white
9. Send Hillary Clinton a million dollars for her presidential campaign just to piss off the righties
10. Hire Molly Ivins to ghostwrite my blog while I am traveling
11. Buy my 15-year-old nephew a beige Volvo station wagon as his first car

Pissed Off In General

I'll admit it, I am in a pissed off mood today.
My girlfriend was snippy on the phone last night, and that's what started it. Then I slept cranky, and James kept repositioning my arm for his maximum comfort, the selfish little stinky butted kitty bastard.
Then, after nibbling on tiny bits of fish protein and green leafy things yesterday, my morning glucose level was 158 (maximum normal is 126).
In case you're wondering, no, I didn't exercise at all yesterday.
One would think that eating the equivalent of three eye droppers of food per day would be sufficient, but with this she-devil called diabetes, the bitch wants exercise, too.
My legs are still sore from trekking 50 miles a day with the Canuck.
Well, my legs aren't really sore but my Achilles' tendonitis makes my normally svelte ankles look like Hillary Clinton's on a bad water weight day. Getting on my tiptoes feels like someone is driving hot nails into my ankles.
It's too cold outside to walk. Okay, it's 50 degrees and sunny but I am not a snowbird and that's too fucking cold to be banging up and down on my tender tendons.
What I'd like to do today is make some eggnog with a mess of Southern Comfort, smoke a huge joint that would make a raggae musician choke, and lay around eating chocolate truffles while I read a steamy novel and watch Aviva parade around naked, cleaning my kitchen.
What I must do today is call some people and interview them for some shit I have to write, do some laundry, mow my lawn, clean that disgusting litter box, ride my fucking exercise bike at least five miles and drink three times more water than I want.
My luxury of the day is the two aspirin I'll take to quiet down the tendonitis ache and this headache I have developed from scowling all morning. I may switch to Canadian Tylenol with codeine. Nahh. That would be too much like fun.

Obey the Rules!

One thing I've noticed, having had three Canadian visitors in my home over the last four years, is that they are unfailingly polite and they obey the rules.
In Canada, the rules are a set of standards that ensure order, civility and peace.
In Texas, the rules are challenges to be circumvented or surmounted at every opportunity.
Take speeding, for example.
When a sign says 70 MPH, I take that to mean in the slow lane, at night, in rainy or icy conditions, with deer all over the highway.
In Canada, they'll do 68 just to make sure they don't offend police officers who are kind enough to be manning the highways, ensuring safety and tranquility.
Noise:
In Canada, neighbors keep their stereos at quiet volumes so the noise does not penetrate their walls.
In Texas, if a neighbor's music is disturbing me, I aim my speakers out the window and put on Jimi Hendrix or opera at a level that tests my speakers' durability.
The Texas flag has a lone star on it, meaning we are the star of the United States.
The Canadian flag has a cute little red maple leaf on it.
Texans can carry concealed weapons, legally.
Canadians sew little Canadian flags on their backpacks, so nobody will feel threatened.
Texans have drive through liquor stores.
Canadians sell their booze through government-owned stores.
In Canada, they end sentences with "eh"?
In Texas, we end sentences with "get it?"

No Common Sense

So off I go today to the grocery store to restock my fruit, veggie, fish and other diabetic punishment foods.
As usual, I got some all beef, no fat 100% kosher Hebrew National hot dogs.
So I needed buns. Healthy, whole wheat, low carb buns.
None to be found. Where is the grocer's common sense?
They had sugar free, whole wheat hamburger buns, but no hot dog buns with fewer than 35 grams of crapohydrates. I ended up getting the hamburger buns, which means I have to cut the hot dogs in half, which kind of ruins the whole effect. No way will I use the hamburger buns for hamburger. I think hamburger is one of the most dangerously suspect foods one can eat. And Bocaburgers and Gardenburgers are just a reminder that I am now serving a life sentence in dietary Hell.
Can you tell I drifted away from my strict diet while A. was here and I am having a bit of a struggle putting the yoke back on? My blood sugar is averaging about 160. That's the stage where I don't feel sick but I don't feel that well, either.
I am too fatigued to exercise and will feel worse if I don't.
All this would never have occurred to me had I not faced the hot dog bun dilemma.
I must now drown my sorrows in the crunch of a gala apple.
Feh.

Does This Mean the War is Off?

Associated Press:
UNITED NATIONS (Jan. 9) -- U.N. weapons inspectors have not found any smoking guns in Iraq during their search for weapons of mass destruction, the chief U.N. weapons inspector said Thursday.
''We have now been there for some two months and been covering the country in ever wider sweeps and we haven't found any smoking guns,'' Hans Blix told reporters at the United Nations."

Mark my words, this news will not change the Bush decision to engage Iraq in war.
All of his campaign financing buddies in the military industrial complex are eagerly awaiting the cash flow from a protracted war. Bush can't let his buddies down, now can he?
Watch the spin the White House will put on the UN's findings (or lack thereof).
We are about to enter the "Yeah, but" phase.
No weapons of mass destruction found?
"Yeah, but we know Saddam didn't answer all the questions."
Bush, you said if they were denying UN weapons inspectors access, they'd have to pay. They let them in and they didn't find anything, so no war, right?
"Yeah, but we know they are liars."

Fasten your seatbelts, folks. We are going to war.

Word-O-Matic

I have added my old pal Sue's new blog to my links. She's funny as hell and I have known her since my long-abandoned chatroom days when I first joined the Internet.
Her comments box is located at the top of her blog, so be sure and search for it and give her some feedback. She'll do anything for feedback and I do mean ANYTHING.

I'm MADA and I'm not gonna take it anymore

• IHOP is doing an all-you-can-eat pancake deal. I think the American Diabetes Association needs to form a militant splinter group who will take to the streets and wreak havoc with companies who seek to kill people by means of carbogluttony.
• San Antonio has been given the dubious distinction of being in the Top 5 for having the fattest citizens. This situation was confirmed by a recent foreign visitor, who dubbed me one of the more "in-shape" San Antonians she'd observed.
By Canadian standards, I am roughly in the same category as the lead singer for Blues Traveler, but by San Antonio standards I am somewhat svelte since I can still purchase clothes in regular department stores.
• San Antonio's plethora of excellent TexMex establishments is to blame. The Militant ADA (or MADA, as I have coined it) needs to invade this city muy rapido. Example:
Here is the "diet plate" for Jacala, the place that poisoned my girlfriend only last week.
Dieter's Delight: The Santa Fe Dinner: Three blue corn enchiladas made with Monterrey jack cheese and chicken, topped with our own authentic New Mexico chile sauce, and served with rice, beans and guacamole. 
• Every establishment licensed to sell food should by law be compelled to make available sugar free Jell-O and whole wheat breads or tortillas, made without lard or grease. They should also be forced to have on hand at least one diet soda that is not Diet Coke.
• TexMex diners should be weighed, measured and licensed by MADA before being allowed to order.
• Anyone with camel toe, especially men, should not be permitted to buy beer or anything made with white flour, cheese or sugar.
• MADA should sue Red Lobster for their ads featuring butter dripping off chunks of lobster, or for shrimp specials that offer more than 8 shrimp.
• Ice Cream stores should be forced by MADA to install doors that are only 18 inches wide. Anyone having to stuff themselves in must not be served.
This is just the start. As the MADA executive director, I plan to become a menace to the homicidal food industry, starting with Jacala.

Wednesday

I have found something more confusing and daunting than quantum physics:
United States Immigration Law.
Having read an eye swelling assortment of websites, links and links to links, I have determined a few absolutes:
1. Either the Canuck or I need to be millionaires
2. She needs to record a platinum CD on an American record label
3. She needs to earn an immediate medical doctor or registered nursing degree
4. I need to turn my little business into a multinational corporation with NAFTA ties
5. We need to befriend an altruistic immigration attorney who will trade legal work for haiku
6. She needs to learn the business of restaurant table bussing or domestic labor
7. One of us needs a sex change operation
8. I need photos of an influential politician screwing a chicken or sheep
9. My sister needs to switch her law practice to immigration and be nicer to me
10. I need to start watching hockey, drinking copious amounts of beer and ending every sentence with "ey?"

If we could just accomplish one or two of the above, we'd be on easy street.
Leave it to me to fall in love with a gol-dern foreigner.
All I know is this house is not as fun with her being gone. The bedroom no longer smells like a warm pastry cart.
The bathroom looks empty without 75 jars, tubes and bottles of mysterious girly potions.
The cats are constipated, no longer having the thrill of making her squeamish after depositing their stinky kitty tootsie rolls.
Nope, this ain't fun at all.

Anna, Anna fabulous Anna

We managed to catch the Anna Nicole Smith episode where she went on a date with Claude, a mousy millionaire. I loved the part where she wanted A-1 Sauce for the sublime Japanese beef, prepared by a private hibachi chef.
Then after what must have been a $3,000 dinner, she hauled him out, first to get some big pickles, then to a cowboy dive where she devoured a pile of ribs and made the poor schnook ride a mechanical bull.
Poor guy. She went home to Kim.
It was the perfect first episode for Aviva to watch. She was suitably horrified.
P.S. My best friend Anna and Anna Nicole share the same birthday. Ha!

Update

Well, Aviva made it home all right but one of her gargantuan suitcases did not arrive with her. That alone is a trauma, but she's a woman who folds her T-shirts so they look like they've never been worn and uses little zipper bags for anything she packs that may leak, stain or fall out of perfect alignment. She packs a suitcase in a way that would make Martha Stewart's luggage look like a drunken sailor's shore leave duffle bag.
She's not one to accept lost luggage with a sanguine attitude. United Airlines will wish they'd never fucked up, that I can guarantee.
My house is dead quiet. The cats are depressed and have been sleeping all day.
James may be especially tired because he sensed something last night that made him do a Cirque de Soleil act on the bed while we were, uh, saying good-bye. He was jumping, twirling, pinning our arms under his ham-sized ass, rolling over on his back, looking at us upside down and break dancing. We finally had to exile him, he got so manic.
I never before noticed the volume of cat hair the boys leave in their wake. Nor was I that aware of the 'fragrance' they create in their bedroom within a half hour of getting a clean litter box.
Aviva, however, can spot a single cat hair at 30 paces and can smell a one-inch cat turd from five blocks away. The boys are so lovable their disgusting habits weren't a deal breaker, per se, but we will have to create a new kitty management system if A. decides to join our little family. We'll have to start with one of those electric, self cleaning litter boxes. And ripping up the carpeting.
All that talk of exiling the kitties from our sleeping area lasted maybe two days.
One night I put my arm around her as we slept and I found myself with a handful of James. His spine was fused to her belly, *under* the covers. She had her arm around his ribs and his head was asleep on her forearm.
That seriously undermined her strict 'no cats in bed' edict. Meanwhile, Bart charmed her with his calm, mature presence and overall beauty. I caught her kissing him on the head when she thought I was outside.
James actually got in the shower with her. I had to hide my guffaws when she told me.

She's Gone...

Everybody's high on consolation
Everybody's trying to tell me what's right for me
My daddy tried to bore me with a sermon
but it's plain to see that they can't comfort me

Sorry Charlie for the imposition
I think I've got it, got the strength to carry on
I need a drink and a quick decision
Now it's up to me, ooh what will be

She's Gone, Oh I,
Oh I'd better learn how to face it
She's Gone Oh I, Oh I'd pay the devil to replace her
She's Gone - what went wrong?... (Hall & Oates)

Nothing went wrong.
I just put Aviva on a Montreal-bound plane a few minutes ago. I miss her already and James and Bart are inconsolable without someone allergic to shed fur on.
Yesterday we spent a really glorious last day together.
We ended up downtown, exploring the Riverwalk from beginning to end. They empty the river for cleanup every January, so we walked along the romantic sludge without millions of tourists blocking our meandering.
Being avid Cow Parade devotees, the highlight of our day was a visit to my friend Brad Braune's gallery.
Brad was in the last stages of completing his two entries for Cow Parade, one a cactus cow and one a tooled leather cow. We got to watch him paint and took some photos of Aviva between the two cows. As one of the premier artists in South Texas, his cows will be displayed prominently in town and my hunch is they'll be chosen to be reduced to miniature cows that people can add to their collections.
Then he gave us an incredible deal on a small watercolor painting, so A. and I now have our first piece of art together.
She didn't want to leave today and I didn't want her to go.
We both had colds most of the two weeks, and she had a blocked ear and contracted food poisoning the last few days from those fucking puffy tacos, but we still managed to get out and explore a lot and see most of what South Texas has to offer.
We finally defined our relationship. She is Felix and I am Oscar of The Odd Couple.
Still somehow it works. We got along better than we ever have on this visit.
She packed two suitcases weighing more than 125 pounds combined. She bought enough Texas related crap to stock a gift shop. She found some terrific tan doeskin cowboy boots. She looks great in a cowboy hat, but she didn't get one.
I think people visit San Antonio and either love it or hate it. She loved it.
Mission accomplished. Now what?

Puffy Tacos Be Damned

It was bound to happen.
After about forty trips to Jacala for puffy tacos, Aviva was stricken yesterday with what seems to be taco poisoning. The beef was 'not quite right,' and for sure it was way undercooked.
Still, like a trooper, she marched on that day, to Target, Dillards and Nomadic Notions exotic bead store. Then last night we went to a party for a 98-year-old guy, my friend Ruben's daddy. We finished out the night eating goat cheese in a piloncillo sauce at the Liberty Bar. No wonder she felt like crap all night.
I am calling Jacala today to bitch. I am calling Code Compliance tomorrow to rat them out for poisoning my girl. TACO POISONING BASTARDS.

Go Go Go Go Go

Aviva is an action girl. She likes to go places, see and do things more than anyone on Earth. As you may recall, I tend to stay tired and curmudgeonly. She hasn't seemed to notice the former and ignores the latter.
Yesterday we had a few hours of unscheduled time at home. She said, "What the fuck are we supposed to do with the time?"
So we used it (select one):
a. lovemaking
b. driving to three different western stores so she could look at tooled leather purses.
I am not giving the answer, but suffice it to say she didn't find a purse she liked.
Ahh, the Riverwalk. It has had its desired effect on her. She loves it. We go everyday. We just walk mostly, she likes the umbrellas over the cafe tables.
And Cow Parade. She likes that, too. We have seen 90% of the cows on display all over town. We snuck into the official cow parade studio on Tuesday and photographed a woman actually painting a cow.
And puffy tacos at Jacala. She wants them twice a day.
So let's review: the Riverwalk, cows and tacos. The rest is just filler.