Wednesday, April 30, 2003

It Was Fifty Years Ago Today

• Dwight D. "Ike" Eisenhauer was the new President.
• "From Here to Eternity" and "The Greatest Show on Earth" were the hot movies at the box office
• Famous people born in 1953 included:
Pat Benatar, Desi Arnaz Jr, Mary Steenburgin, Emilio Estefan, Ron Jeremy, Chaka Kahn, Louie Anderson, Tony Blair, Pierce Brosnan, Tim Allen, Cyndi Lauper, Hulk Hogan, Kathie Lee Gifford, Dennis Miller, Kate Capshaw, Alfre Woodard, Frances Conroy (Holy shit, I am the same age as Ruth from Six Feet Under!) Kevin Nealon, Kim Basinger and John Malkovich.
• Simone De Beauvoir, a French feminist published "The Second Sex."
• Poet Dylan Thomas died. Bob Dylan stole his first name, swapped it out for his last name (Zimmerman) and that's why 500 million boys and girls today are named Dylan.
• U.S. Federal debt was at $266 billion (Bush is in the 300 billions just for this year alone)
• A first class postage stamp cost 3¢
• The NY Yankees beat the Brooklyn Dodgers in the world series 4-2
• The Minnesota Lakers beat the NY Knicks in the NBA 4-1
• Playboy magazine hit newsstands with Marilyn Monroe on the cover
• "I Love Lucy" and "Dragnet" won Emmys
• DNA was discovered
• A pound of coffee cost $1.19, round steak was 65¢ a pound, potatoes were 10 pounds for 57¢, a gallon of milk cost 66¢, a '53 Ford cost $1450, and a modern six-room house could be rented for $100 a month.

Damn, am I old, but I hope I am old like Kim Basinger and not like Frances Conroy.

Tuesday, April 29, 2003

Crone Advice

As if I wasn't enough of a pontificating windbag in my 40's, now that I am perched on the rim of turning 50, I have some sage wisdom to pass on to you younger folk.

1. If she says she's no good for you, believe her.
2. Keep your hands and fingernails clean as often as humanly possible.
3. If you have to smell it first to see if it's okay to eat, just throw it away.
4. If you think you may have bad breath, just go brush your teeth.
5. Always wear old underwear on a first date.
6. Don't let junk accumulate in your car.
7. If you are drunk, remember not to repeat anything more than twice, no matter how funny you think it is.
8. Never fill out sweepstakes forms. They just want your address and phone number so they can hassle you later.
9. Online petitions don't work because names on them are impossible to verify.
10. If someone cheated on their partner to be with you, they'll likely cheat on you.
11. Don't let your dog hump your friend's leg.
12. Don't send anyone chain e-mail.
13. People are only about 20% as interested in your shit as you are.
14. It's a lot easier to ride a horse in the direction it's going.
15. When you hear the phrase "we need to talk" it generally means you need to listen.
16. Sometimes saying "whatever" IS the best way to end a silly argument.
17. Get rid of clothes you haven't worn in a year.
18. Make sure your toenails are trimmed and clean.
19. Never mix Scotch with Coke.
20. Never take drugs someone manufactured in their home.
21. If you don't want to eat something and your host pressures you, say you are allergic.
22. Breasts sag after 30. Get over it.
23. Never use the words fuck or fucking more than once per sentence.
24. Use spellcheck on your e-mail, damn it.
25. It's okay to change the empty toilet paper roll at someone else's house.
26. Nobody wants to hear the minute details of one's sex life.
27. Time wounds all heels.
28. Silence is golden, especially if you are drunker than hell.
29. Everyone needs to watch Iron Chef at least once.
30. Pick up a restaurant check once in a while.
31. Keep fresh flowers in your house, no matter how poor you think you are.
32. If you have photos to share, ask if they are actually interested in seeing them.
33. Don't scrape your teeth over the fork or spoon when you're eating.
34. Don't loan out books or CD's if they are really important to you.
35. Travel as much as you can.
The Mouths of Babes

I've been getting lots of advice about coping with being dumped from various local and Blog-based friends. Tracy and Grey Bird and Melly have all pitched in their thoughts.
Melly sort of flipped the story around and made me see it from a totally different angle. She seems to think forgiveness, understanding and a little time out might be the right route to take.
I am of the school of "get dumped, get over it and move on," but her approach seemed refreshingly Zen-like. I was rather impressed, considering Melly is the same age as my cat Bart.
I have no plans to take her advice, mind you, but it did present a soothing option.
Anyway, since I won't have a date after all at my birthday dinner tomorrow, I figured I'd invite Melly and finally get to meet her in person.
If some of my old battle-ax dyke friends at the party happen to *think* she's my hot young date, well, I say let them have their sleazy innuendo.
Sure as hell will beat explaining the whereabouts of the new girlfriend who just dumped me. :D

Monday, April 28, 2003

When All Else Fails

Have you ever noticed how drug addicts, alcoholics, underachievers, slackers, bums and layabouts always say, "I'm working on my music" or some variation of that theme?
Whenever I hear someone say that, I hear the word "LOOSAH" echoing in my brain.
Here's a tip. If you are snorting/smoking/shooting an 8-ball a day and playing the same two riffs over and over on your duct-taped Fender until your fingers bleed, that is neither working nor music.
This public service announcement has been brought to you by Pulp Friction, the Blogsite that cares.
Survivor: A Belated Review

Thank God for VCR's.
Perhaps the best emerging story here will be the make-up of the jury. Three pissed-off, betrayed players will ruin any chances Rob thinks he has for winning.
Alex got the boot, changing the dynamics completely. His arrogance was annoying and getting booted off was a fitting consequence.
Now the insipid boob twins, Heidi and Jenna, will have to hope Rob can come up with extra votes to keep the others from killing them off next time. That is, IF he doesn't turn on them, which is likely.
I am starting to like Matthew. He's naive and sincere albeit weird as hell, but at least he's not a treacherous, duplicitous bastard.
The scene that had me wanting to scratch the TV screen was when I found out that bitch Jenna left her mother with a head full of malignant tumors to be on the show.
Then when Christy allowed Jenna to buy the letter from home for almost a third of what she paid for hers, Jenna should have hugged and kissed Christy for her largesse. But noooo.
I loved the "tender" scenes where Heidi and Jenna engaged in some tepid physical contact to show sorrow and joy. No full body hugs for these ice princesses. It looked like two daddy longlegs preparing for battle. Ugh.
What we have left is Butch, a hard working nice guy; Matthew, a hard working lunatic; Rob, the manipulative mascot who's about as slippery as greased owl shit; Christy who has shown great character, a lot of heart and a good work ethic; Heidi, who is dumb and sickening, and Jenna who is a prick teasing, mother abandoning, self-serving piece of shit.
An AOL poll puts the favorites to win at Christy 47%, Rob, Matthew and Butch at 14%, Jenna 6% and Heidi 5%. Sounds about right to me except for Rob. With that jury he'll never win.
If there is justice in this game (which we know there is not) the Butch/Matthew/Christy contingent will vote off Rob, then pick off Heidi and Jenna one by one.
Either way, Jenna and Heidi are kaput.

Sunday, April 27, 2003

Home At Last

Finally made it home from a beach weekend that started out pretty well and ended just horribly.
Not wanting to spew needless venom into Blogging eternity, I'll leave it at that.

Thursday, April 24, 2003

Blog Salad™

• I am so excited about going away for a long weekend I was up at 5 this morning like an old hen. My cats didn't even bother to get up with me. Their rule is, if it's not yet daylight there's no reason to awaken. I mean, it's not like they have cans of wet food to look forward to.
• I deleted my latest war in Iraq Blog. The less we discuss it, the faster we'll forget it and the briefer Dubya's victory lap will be. By November 2004 all he'll have to campaign with is a nonexistent domestic policy, an abysmal budget and record smashing deficits.
• Several weeks ago I met a nice man running for City Council. I liked his views and volunteered to word his website copy and help him write some position papers. He's one of four candidates running in this district.
A few days ago I got a list of endorsements from the Stonewall Democrats, a local gay coalition. They endorsed all three of his opponents, but not him. That means he didn't bother to reply to their questionnaire. Oy vey. You can lead a horse to water...
• How did Toronto get mixed up in this SARS thing? I guess by now some Canadian entrepreneur has already silk screened little red maple leaves on all the face masks, ey?
• You gotta love Donald Rumsfeld's reaction to priceless antiquities being looted from Iraqi museums. "My goodness, were there that many vases?" asked Rumsfeld of the looting of 7,000 years worth of archaeological treasure. "Is it possible there were that many vases in the whole country?" he asked sarcastically.
The term "my goodness" in itself indicates this guy's head is stuck back in 1960.
• I also love Rumsfeld's choice for his new Iraqi puppet, Ahmad Chalabi. He's a convicted embezzler, sentenced in absentia to 22 years prison in Jordan. That oughtta wow the rest of the Arab world.
• If Senator Rick Santorum is so much against sodomy, why did he screw himself with his homophobic statements?
• When Bush went to Northern Ireland, his briefing books were labeled "Belfast, Ireland."
Oh well, Ireland, Northern Ireland, what's the diff? I also loved how he assured Tony Blair that the UN would have a major role in rebuilding Iraq, then two days later he said they wouldn't. Hey Tony, thanks for the loyalty...sucker!
• Beach weather for the weekend: highs in the low 80's, lows in the mid 60's. Perfecto.
I am outta here. See y'all Sunday evening.

Wednesday, April 23, 2003

Rick Santorum's Haiku

Are like other criminals
They all hate my guts

I speak for Jesus
Wait, I am a Catholic
I am Jesus Christ

Being gay is wrong
Just ask Dick and Lynn Cheney
or their queer daughter

Call me Rick, not Dick
I don't like dick, don't do dick
But I'm no lesbo

Call me normal Rick
Not gay, negro or arab
You be normal, too

Coitus is normal
Anything else: sodomy
I am right, they're wrong

The Senate belongs
In the bedrooms of sinners
The Bible says so!
Another Republican Asshole

Associated Press
WASHINGTON (April 23) - Rick Santorum, the Senate's third-ranked Republican who is under fire from gay-rights groups and Democrats, says he has ''no problem with homosexuality - I have a problem with homosexual acts.''
In a wide-ranging interview with The Associated Press two weeks ago, Santorum, R-Pa., said he believes homosexual acts are a threat to the American family. He drew criticism from gays and Democrats after parts of the interview - during which he compared homosexuality to bigamy, polygamy, incest and adultery - were published Monday..."

I'll tell you what.
You give these assholes a majority and they start showing their hate mongering true colors.
I have no problem with homophobics, I have problems with homophobics like this clown who are in a position to legislate my morality.
My pal Barcode King recently commented that he thought the "glass was half full" nowadays for gays and lesbians in this country.
When we have high ranking Senatorial idiots like this who rank us queers with incest perpetrators, bigamists and adulterers, the glass is empty, broken and ready to stab us with.
As for Rick Santorum, we gays got rid of Dr. Laura via a huge Internet campaign led by Washington based gay activist John Aravosis, and we can get rid of this guy, too.
Let's start by calling or writing him some e-mail and telling him how we are taxpayers and voters who will no longer tolerate such hate mongering from our elected officials.
You can google his e-mail address or contact him at his office:
511 Dirksen Senate Office Building
Washington DC 20510
Let's not let him get by with this open hostility and discrimination.
Surf's Up!

I wasn't expecting to go to the beach until Friday morning, then my girlfriend called me this morning and asked why we shouldn't go on Thursday night.
Immediately I thought of Survivor then I thought, wait, am I out of my mind?
Suddenly the precision work I am doing on ceiling crack repair seems a bit compulsive. Fuck it, it'll get a sponge stipple over the sanded down spackle and I'll paint it when I get back. Budda bing, budda boom.
So, to celebrate birthday week (yes I celebrate for a whole week, sue me) starting tomorrow afternoon I'll be having an hour long massage, then we'll drive the three hours it takes to get to the beach. Then after a romantic shrimpy dinner, a nice long walk in the moonlight. :D
So, my pick for Survivor this week is this:
Who cares?
In other TV news, I hope some of you are watching Bill Maher's great new show on HBO.
Though he got canned from his ABC show "Politically Incorrect" for making unpatriotic remarks (if you disagree with Bush you are a traitor), his new HBO show, "Real Time with Bill Maher" takes the gloves off and provides viewers with some hilarious points about politics and current events.
His panel often includes wits like neo-conservative (?) Dennis Miller, Arianna Huffington and this brilliant guy named Dyson who is a black political pundit and Baptist minister.
Enough about TV.
From Thursday afternoon until Sunday evening, I plan to be a low-tech beach slug.

Tuesday, April 22, 2003

Spring's Dastardly Downside

It's happened.
I finished all my writing assignments for the month and I am off until the first of May.
Now I must face the dreaded Spring Chores.
Heavy rains and an ancient roof last fall produced some damage like cracks and a few stains on my living room ceiling. The new roof has ceased the problems, but the scars remain.
I have to repaint my living room, starting with the ceiling. Yep, the room with the 1,000 pound couch, the oriental rug and the zillion things related to electronic entertainment.
I have to move all that shit. Then I have to spackle. Then I have to paint the ceiling, which means I have to detail the ceiling fan so it doesn't look haggard next to the new ceiling paint.
Then the walls need to be painted, which means I'll have to get new blinds so they don't look haggard next to the new paint. Over the blinds are valances I made out of textured canvas, foam core and plastic produce bags. They have aged, so I have to make new ones.
I am someone for whom a mitre box presents unmet challenges. I cannot get the connection between hammer, nail and wall. I think that duct tape should, in theory, out perform sheetrock tape.
All that aside, I must ignore my glaring lack of Bob Villa skills and forge ahead.
Next stop: Sears paint department.

Monday, April 21, 2003

Coming of Age Story

I dreamed I wrote a coming of age novel, except since I am close to 50, it was more of a coming of old age novel.
In nine days, all bets are off and I'll be crossing over the threshold to full crone status.
A crone is any woman 50 or over. I am embracing that harsh sounding word, crone, because I find it's a lot easier in life to ride the horse in the direction he's going.
When I was little I used to like to figure out how old I'd be at the turn of the century.
Forty-six seemed impossibly old back then. Now it seems rather sprightly and youthful.
Fifty is not that bad, considering the alternative.
People today are friskier at 50 than they were 50 years ago. No really, they are.
My girlfriend, who is almost 45, already has 90% silver hair. She also has the body of a muscular 20-year-old, so a little silver doesn't mean jackshit in the whole scheme of things.
Yesterday at dusk we were walking home from a Thai restaurant and she noticed the back of my hair was a different color from the top. That's because the color is fading off the top and I am very grey up there.
I have been pondering getting new color before the dreaded day in nine days, but then I thought fuck it, I earned the grey and I'm going to show it off for a while.
Getting diagnosed with diabetes in October has turned out to be a warped sort of blessing.
I weigh about the same now as I did in my early 30's. My stamina is better from recent weight lifting and exercise, and I feel tons better without refined sugar defining my moods, my energy and my life.
The best part of turning 50 is that my age finally fits my general curmudgeonly disposition.
Now I can call the skateboarding kids outside whippersnappers with some real conviction!
I can start more sentences with, "Why, back in the day when I was a youth..."
Best of all, at 50 a woman is more or less invisible to society's prying eyes.
Surly young men don't register my presence as I pass by, unless I am smoking them off the line at a red light, then they rather appreciate it.
Cops don't believe I could have been driving 85 in a 65 mile zone.
When I kiss my girlfriend in public, nobody believes what their eyes just told them.
When I was a young whippersnapper, I wanted to be fast, bulletproof and invisible.
Now on the eve of turning 50, by God, I am.

Sunday, April 20, 2003

Happy Easter and Passover

It's raining here today, a perfect time to visit an outdoor art show.
Kind of separates the shoppers from the lookie-loos.
Last time I went to this art show, I bought a cool painting of some horses and cowboys running very fast. The colors look like the artist was on some sort of hallucinogen when he painted it.
Did anyone see Saturday Night Live last night? Matthew McConaughey must love to smoke dope, that's all I'm sayin'. And the Dixie Chicks are good. Especially the blonde who plays the fiddle. Yum.
I stayed up late watching the Iron Chef's Imperial Battle of the Iron Chefs. Chen Kanishi and Hiroyuki Sakai were in a lobster battle. Gee, it was exciting, but the editing was horrid. They cut it off abruptly with only a few minutes left on the clock. Sort of a culinary coitus interruptus, I tell you.
Anyway, off to the art show. Wish me luck in finding the perfect doodad or painting.

Saturday, April 19, 2003

American Airlines Executives: Clown School is Open

"DALLAS (April 19) - A flight attendants' union said it was rescinding its approval of $10 billion in wage cuts and other concessions to American Airlines over six years, striking a serious blow to a plan that the company said it needed to avoid bankruptcy.

"Enraged by the recent revelation that the airline planned to give bonuses to top executives, the union said late Friday that it would schedule a new vote on the concessions."

The story only whispers the outrageousness of the executives' maneuvers.
What the story doesn't tell is they voted themselves bonuses in excess of a million dollars each, and they restructured their retirement plans for 45 upper level bigwigs to get huge guaranteed retirement packages even IF the airline went bankrupt.
They said it was to keep its high level executives from quitting and seeking employment elsewhere.
Here's a thought. If the airline is going bankrupt and begging the feds and their employees to bail them out and make deep sacrifices, how shitty are the executives to begin with?
Why keep any of them?
I wish I was a union boss leading AA employees into the new negotiations.
I'd suggest the top 45 executives either step down or take immediate 50 percent pay cuts for their abysmal mismanagement of the company.
If they balk, fuck 'em, let them try to get jobs elsewhere with their "proven track records."

Thursday, April 17, 2003

Good Friday

Good Friday in San Antonio can only mean one thing. The passion play.
A guy dresses like Jesus, gets some fake blood splashed on his stigmata spots, gets stuck to a huge cross and is carried/dragged along downtown streets, being insulted by ordinary citizens pretending to be a goon squad.
Not my idea of a good time, but hey, who am I to judge?
Next weeks starts Fiesta San Antonio
nine days of drunken reverie in events all over town. It's kind of like Mardi Gras only with margaritas instead of hurricanes.
I have experienced many drunken, bloated Fiesta adventures in my day but I have about had it with crowds, drunks, junk food and confetti in my hair.
Next weekend I am going to the beach with my girlfriend. Everyone will be up here at Fiesta, so it'll be nice and spacious.
Gay Bars

A few comments over at Spacemonk's crib made me start pondering the names men give their gay bars. I could think of a few offhand.
They seem to favor names like The Shaft, the Ramrod, the Ranch, The Boiler Room, Rawhide, ad nauseam.
If I was in control of the office of gay bar naming, I'd get away from all that he-man imagery and call it more like I've seen it:
The Brunch
The Snit Fit
The Sale at Nordstrom's
The Salon
Club Martha Stewart
Club Perfect Chilean Sea Bass with a Raspberry Coulis
Club Pretension
Club Steroid
Club Fancy Pants

and the lesbian bars:

Club Smoke
The Plaid Flannel Shirt Pool Parlor
The Fat Butt Lounge
Juke Box Hellhole
Beer Queer
B.J.s Potluck
Club DramaRama
Club Huge Panties
Club I Have Feelings 2

I just calls 'em as I see 'em. Have I missed any?
Winding Down, Finally

After the barrage of 24/7 war coverage, it's nice to see things winding down in the media. Ending with a story about Saddam's tasteless Love Shack and a few POW rescue stories, all that's left is a mess in Iraq for Bush to have to clean up.
Remember how he pledged to clean up Afghanistan after invading there?
Bush mentions Afghanistan now about as much as he mentions Osama bin Laden. His attention deficit disorder is extraordinarily convenient.
I think in another month, people will forget about the crushing invasion on Iraq and start to see Bush was indeed a one trick pony.
The only domestic policy he's mentioned is the one he plans for Iraq.
His tax cut plans are absurd.
Old people still have to make ridiculous compromises to get the medicines they need to survive.
Our schools are horribly underfunded.
Illegal drugs are everywhere and AIDS funding has been scattered around for optimum waste.
Affirmative Action has been molested.
A woman's right to choose has been attacked.
Gays and lesbians have been sent to the back of the bus.
The economy sucks.
Poor Bush should have timed the war closer to reelection time. He won't be able to coast to the finish line based on a 2003 Iraqi ass kicking.
Thank God.

Wednesday, April 16, 2003


My picks have been all wrong this season, so I am appealing to the gods of logic to hear my reasoning and let me be right, just this one time.
I think Matthew will get the boot next. He's creepy and he's a physical threat in challenges.
If not Matthew, then maybe Alex. Physical threat, ladies man.
Ah hell, I have no idea who'll get the boot.
Mike, what do you think?
Two Years. Oy vey.

Two years ago today, I was in the operating room, wondering if the endocrine cancer I had was contained in one area (the uterus) or had spread to my lymph nodes or elsewhere.
Two years later, I continue to have no sign of cancer. :D

Two years ago, I had a lover who was cheating on me without my knowledge.
Two years later, I am in a stable and happy new relationship with someone who actually has the same area code.

Two years ago, I weighed 57 pounds more than I do today.
Two years later, I am going about losing another 30 pounds or so.

Two years ago, Anna was my best friend.
Two years later, she still is.
Some things never change, thank God.

Tuesday, April 15, 2003

Oh, Goodie.

Now that Bush is almost done playing with his GI Joe action figures, he is setting out to convince America that his massive tax cutting agenda is a good thing. He's also said to be on a mission to keep his favorable poll numbers through massive interaction with "the American peoples."
Like his daddy, his war efforts have indeed brought him favorable ratings in the polls.
Also like his daddy, he has too much time left in his administration to cruise his way to a reelection based on a successful war that will be old news by then.
Now that he's had his war dessert, he has to eat his budget broccoli.
Here are some clues for him:
• Pssst! Even your more sane GOP compadres think your tax cutting plans are unrealistic, especially after such a costly war.
• Where are the revamped prescription plans you promised the elderly?
Rather than wasting time researching and paraphrasing why Bush won't be reelected, let me whet your whistles with this handy site. Bush Lies

Monday, April 14, 2003

Re-Haircut Blog

I can't stand my four day old haircut, it's driving me crazy.
The top is squared off and spiky and the sides are so thick they add an inch to the sides of my head. I look like a brunette Sponge Bob Square Pants.
I had to actually make a new appointment for tomorrow to get the corners cut off.
I lay in bed for 10 minutes and arise looking like Bobcat Golthwaite.
I have to use at least five after-shampoo products to glue it in place, then it gets so glued it flattens out and brings me back to the Sponge Bob look.
Who Are These People?

You can tell when a person on the Internet is nuts wHeN THey tYPe liKe tHIs.
Here's another way you can spot the nutters.
What are they searching for when they land on your blog?
I see I have attracted my share of geeks and nerds, however I am pleased to see very few perverts looking for stuff I either stopped doing years ago or would rather die than even contemplate.
Here are some of my recent hits, looking for shit I swear I (generally) haven't written about.

I'd list more but my Sitemeter has joined my Bloglinks and my new, non-operational referrer's list in the land of Fuckuppia.
Cat Clock

I stayed up late watching some dreadful Hugh Grant movie called "Sirens," whose only redeeming quality was plenty of tall, naked women cavorting around.
My overgrown kitty James went to sleep early so he'd be plenty fresh to awaken at 6 a.m. so he could stroll his 14 pounds up and down my torso, meow kitty breath in my face, roll around a lot while crashing into my ribs, put his wet nose against mine and otherwise wake me up at an alarmingly early hour. Ha. Wait till I catch the little bastard cat napping later.
Six Feet Under last night was surprisingly calm.
The gay brunch was pretty accurate, if memory serves. I've been the token dyke at so many of those I can still smell the mimosas. If I was Keith I would have left early, too. Too many nelly queens in one room makes my head hurt, like chugging a slushie too fast.
Ruth and her little friend Arthur make me want to track down Kathy Bates and beg her to come back on the show. Ruth singing "My Favorite Things" to Arthur's creepy organ accompaniment made my stomach a little queasy.
Claire's boyfriend Russell? Please kid, wash that fucking hair, it's just unsanitary. Instead of spending $50 on a tube of cobalt blue oil paint, go to a barber and get a cut and a flea dip, fer chrissakes.
As for Lisa, Nate and Brenda, please, someone get Lisa outta there. Brenda is going through a phase of temporary sanity and Nate needs to jump back in and mix her up.
Brenda telling Nate she hadn't been with anyone since they split up was catnip for his wounded ego. Nothing stirs up a man like thinking his formerly slutty girlfriend has suddenly regrown her virtue. Yeow.

Sunday, April 13, 2003


Seems the troops found one of Saddam's Love Hideaways in Baghdad and described it as totally shagadelic.

From the AP story:
"The doors of the town house opened to reveal a playboy's fantasy straight from the 1960s: mirrored bedroom, lamps shaped like women, airbrushed paintings of a topless blonde woman and a mustached hero battling a crocodile."
..."One of the airbrushed paintings depicted a topless blonde woman, with a green demon behind her, pointing a finger at a mythic hero. From the tip of her finger came a giant serpent, which had wrapped itself around the warrior.
Another showed a buxom woman chained to a barren desert mountain ledge, with a huge dragon diving down to kill her with sharpened talons."

You gotta love it. The guy's worth billions and all he can come up with is an Austin Powers style love shack. Even the carpeting was bad- it was dark blue shag.
Yeah, bay-bee!
Martha, Such a Humanitarian

Ha! Last night I watched Martha Stewart Living, where her guest was a 13-year-old girl who had won a trip to Martha's show via the Make A Wish Foundation, where kids with terminal cancer get to make a final wish come true.
Martha was showing this adorable young teen girl how to make the perfect Easter cupcakes.
The girl almost got Martha's ideal measuring cup, made of handsome, brushed stainless steel jammed up in the blades of Martha's $950 Kitchen Aid mixer.
Then she iced her cupcake rather sloppily, with icing decidedly listing toward one side.
Then when she dipped it in white jimmies (aka sprinkles), some of them spilled haphazardly to the tabletop.
Martha had developed a facial tic by then, but still she smiled as if the cooties girl was a welcome addition to her show.
When Martha showed the girl how to flatten rare, imported fruit shaped jellies in sugar, then cut them into petal and leaf shaped designs, she was aghast when the girl failed to use the maximum surface of the flattened jellies for economy.
Then the girl created an asymmetrical, multi colored flower on her sloppily iced cupcake and Martha's face was red and sweaty by then.
Poor Martha, having to deal with a cancer ridden child of limited aesthetic sensibilities. It was almost too much for her to bear.
I liked her better when she didn't have to present a soft, approachable image. Her anal retentive bitch persona suits me just fine.
Sunday Bloggy Sunday

I'm all over the map this morning, with not much to say and plenty of time to say it.
Last night my companion and I went for coffee at my favorite little coffee house.
It was a beautiful, clear night so we sat outside and there across the courtyard was Congressman _____, nuzzling his extremely young, Monica Lewinsky-looking companion.
I happen to know from my reporting days that Congressman _____ has a bit of a problem with anger management, having assaulted his first two wives. I resisted the temptation to stroll over to their table and warn the naive young waif.
I spent the day yesterday in the company of two women and four children, aged 9 and under at a barbecue/pool party.
Because there was a pool and a Jacuzzi involved, it's fair to say I got splashed a lot and had my elderly eardrums assaulted with various high pitched screams that could shatter French jelly glassware.
The trick to winning kids over involves any variation of farting. I took two little tubs of this goo that makes farting noises when you stick your fingers in it. They loved it. Then I took a copy of, "Walter the Farting Dog," which also pleased the wet little wolverines.
I also brought some multi colored chalk shaped like Easter eggs.
Emma, the sweet 9-year-old and I set out to draw a beautiful spring flower assortment on the sidewalk. Her little brother Sean proceeded to ride his little vehicle over the floral display continually until we ended up chalking rude things about him on the sidewalk and quitting.
He later chased me around and called me a "big fat baby" and a "little weasely," which I think makes him a very good judge of character for a 6-year-old.
Also at the party was a border collie called Diego who swam constant circles in the pool, biting at the splashes until he conked out and ended up standing on the pool ledge, staring vacantly.
After that, I came home and took such a hard nap I couldn't hear the phone ringing.
No wonder moms have that same stare as Diego the swimming dog.

Saturday, April 12, 2003


Ahh, I feel refreshed and renewed after a Friday afternoon of no TV, no news and no war contemplation.
Having rested up, I have only three war observations today.
1. If the U.S. and British soldiers occupying Iraq aren't civilian police and refuse to deal with looters and rioters, have you noticed how well the coalition forces are policing Iraqi oil fields and pipelines? No shenanigans there! (connect the dots)
2. When looters and rioters stormed the streets of Los Angeles in protest of assorted governmental disparity, the right wing denounced them as savages who deserved to be apprehended, tried and convicted.
Those same right wingers have suddenly developed compassion and understanding for the frustrated rioting and looting Iraqi citizens who are just "letting off a little steam" at their former government.
It's really very simple. Bush vowed to liberate and help reconstruct a peaceful democracy in the region. As I see it, allowing anarchy and mayhem does not fit the description Bush offered. Could he have (gasp) LIED?
3. We all know by now, Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld are eyeing Syria next. Please tell me the American public has no plans to support an invasion of Syria. Enough war, already.

Friday, April 11, 2003

Blah Blah Blog

War news has suffocated me.
I can't stand to watch or read any more about it for now.
It's beautiful outside.
I think I'll go enjoy the day away from this infernal computer and clear the CNN war music out of my head.
Y'all have a great Friday.

Thursday, April 10, 2003

Survivor Haiku

Poor Survivor Butch
Blander than plain, dry oatmeal
Hung? Like a Ken doll

Rob, Rob, funny guy
He has got to be Jewish
With all that kvetching

Matthew is so weird
Looks like a customer for
Tracy's psycho ward

Alex, you cute boy
Too bad you're on thin ice now
Deena wants your pecs

Jenna, skinny Jenna
Big tits and a tiny brain
Look out, Hollywood!

Heidi the naked
So much for teaching career
Hello, Hustler pics!

Christy, cute deaf girl
Outsmarts all the hearing folks
Is deafness an act?

Deena, dyke lawyer
Never mentions her hubby
Wonder why that is?
Survivor Pick!

Matthew, it's time to go.
Of all the remaining tribe members, you are the spookiest.
Sayonara, and get some meat back on those bones, fella.
Spotted in the Employment Classifieds of the Syria Gazette

Job wanted. Experienced communcator/public relations expert can help your government, extremist group or corporation shine. I can turn bad news into glorious news. I can create images of Allah blessed power and convince others of strength when there is weakness. Allah has blessed me with eternal optimism and a gift of gab.
Contact Saeed al-Sahhaf at

Wednesday, April 09, 2003

A Message From Mohammed Saeed al-Sahhaf,
Iraqi Information Minister

Dear Iraqi Faithful,

The American infidels, may Allah wipe Kurdish boogers on their lower lips, have bombed our state television station so that we cannot see the lies they are telling.
We have them on the ropes and soon they will fall into the gutters and be urinated and shat upon by the elite guards' golden winged steeds.
Those faithful to Saddam, may Allah replace his sons Uck-Fay and Oo-Yay with better ones, have reportedly torn down the 40-foot statue of our leader. This was not to mark defeat, this was to replace the old bronze statue with a new, solid gold statue of our beloved Saddam, encrusted in precious gems, may Allah keep them shiny and bright.
American and British invaders, who will be bloodied and pummeled like common Iraqi wives and girlfriends, have lost all of their weapons, tanks and air force to the mighty swords of the Iraqi martyrs.
We have met the infidels missiles with sticks and their bombs with stones from our blessed Iraqi soil, and with Allah's divine guidance we have sent the few remaining infidel invaders back to Kuwait with broken spirits and massive chiropractic problems.
So certain is victory for Saddam, may Allah keep him healthy despite the several tons of debris on his torso, I plan to take a vacation to Syria, effective immediately.
The Secret Diary of PuSay Hussein Part III
Saddam's Unusual Daughter

my father and brothers (may allah rub their scrotums with small prickly cacti) appear to be dead. truth be told, they were quite tedious.
this day I have donned my father's (may allah continue to stand on his head with a heavenly jackboot) ceremonial uniform for the amusement of the palace ladies while i pantomimed a british song by queen entitled we are the champions. the ladies laughed with glee at the irony.
the palace i am sequestered in was a lesser palace so it was not bombed. perhaps the exterior facade that reads dunkin donuts was a sufficient ruse to deter the american devils (may allah give them each a large bottle of jack daniels) from bombing us.
on a small battery operated radio i heard a marine say that democracy meant 'freedom, whiskey and sexy.'
as they say in the land of devils and depravity, i am down for that!
after the war has ended i plan to contact infidel american reporter barbara walters and provide her an interview in hopes of launching my new career as iraq's first female pop singer. i am told i resemble canadian infidel radicals carole pope or kd lang so i intend to capitalize on that.
already i have been listening to contraband pop music to see which songs i might appropriate and i have considered the following:
papa don't preach
black velvet
another brick in the wall
i touch myself
midnight at the oasis
ahab the arab
meanwhile i plan to sneak into what remains of the main palace and enter father's (may allah pluck his lifeless mustache with a lady epilator) secret vault and liberate for myself his large, sofa sized painting of elvis on black velvet.
i must close, fatima and some of the other palace ladies are awaiting my presence at the jacuzzi (may allah give me continued lengual and digital potency).

Tuesday, April 08, 2003

Leadership Target?

What is this double-talk? The U.S. is talking about having bombed a building in a ritzy part of Baghdad with bunker buster bombs in hopes of "striking a leadership target."
Why don't they just say "we hope we killed Saddam and his creepy sons, because that's who we were aiming at"?
Why don't they say what they mean and use phrases that weren't generated just for this war? I find it secretive and insulting.
Liberate? They mean conquer.
Coalition forces? They mean American and British soldiers.
Reunify? They mean occupy.
As for the alleged "smoking gun," call me a hayseed Texas girl, but a bunch of drums of stinky liquid on a huge agricultural compound says insecticide to me, especially when there were no missiles or other bomb making components near the site.
Instead of calling these barrels potential "Weapons of Mass Destruction," they'd be more accurate to call them potential "Fixin's of Mass Destruction."
Like last time when they found bottles of "suspicious powder," you didn't hear much when the powder turned out to be ordinary explosives, not chemical agents.
Even if the drums contain liquids whose only purpose is poisoning humans, without the ammunition to pour the liquids into, they are what General Benjamin Freakly called, "not weaponized."
Not weaponized is more double-talk for "not weapons."
I wish Bush would come on TV and say, "Look, we are kicking their asses. After we finish we plan to follow the code 'to the victor belong the spoils' and take whatever we want from these bastards. The United Kingdom gets sloppy seconds. Then fuck 'em, let the French and Germans have them for all we care."
A little candor and honesty would work wonders.

Monday, April 07, 2003

Diabetes Update

Six months into diabetes has gone pretty well so far.
I have learned to eat enough of a variety of safe foods that my once rapid weight-loss has sort of slowed down to a couple of pounds a week that like to come and go and come and go.
I stopped drinking alcohol, but recently retried drinking sparingly on a few occasions.
A small snifter of port after dinner went okay three weeks ago. A tiny jar of warm sake went okay weekend before last.
A 16-ounce Kirin Ichiban was a really bad idea last weekend.
Beer is the enemy.
It caused slitty eyes, fat bloaty face, and my excessive chattiness with a Japanese immigrant guy at the sushi bar who I didn't realize until later was busily staring at my date's breasts while he pretended to listen with amusement to my drunken blatherings, that little Jerry Lewis-looking, goofy bastard.
No more beer.
I developed a love for steamed soybeans that was rivaled only by the huge clouds of noxious gas they cause me to emit loudly at all the wrong times. So, I have to limit my soy bean consumption to days when I plan to stay in complete isolation. Even chatting on the phone is risky after a belly full of soy beans.
When I am forced to interact with others and I have to walk alongside them, I have to walk pigeon-toed while I hold my glutes together with enough force to emboss the Lord's Prayer on a penny.
Exercise may be beneficial and healthy and release dopey endorphins, but I still fucking hate it. I have to trick myself into it with elaborate rituals, ever increasing new exercise shoes and togs, apres exercise treats and a written mileage log on my wall calendar.
Still I find my exercise bike looks far more attractive with freshly laundered shirts hung on the handlebars than with my ass smashing down on the gelfoam seat.
Anyway, soon I will have to see my diabetes doc and watch him eye my glucose-o-meter with great suspicion and suggest I try to drop my 127 glucose average to a level similar to a 92-pound Olympic ice skater's numbers. My compliance makes him greedy and maniacal. He always wants more, more, more.
Yeah well, I want a Philly cheesesteak, an order of curly fries, a chocolate shake with a classic Coca Cola on the side and a big slab of cherry fudge pie for dessert.
We can't always get what we want, Bub.
An Easy Prediction

Just about anyone with half a brain would say that the U.S. entered this war with very limited international support.
Now comes the chance to repair some of that damage by having U.S. leaders include the UN in setting up an interim government for Iraq.
Will that happen?
Will Bush take this opportunity to demonstrate a spirit of global unity in allowing the UN to play an active role in creating a free society for Iraq?
Oh, hell no.
When Bush is given a golden opportunity to diminish international charges of arrogance and imperialism against him, count on him to respond like the arrogant imperialist he is.
Monday Mumblings

I caught up on war coverage this morning and the most remarkable news I read were the Iraqi Information Minister's statements to the media.
Minister Mohammed Saeed al-Sahhaf said the American invaders had tried to penetrate the city but were slaughtered. "Be assured Baghdad is safe, secure and great,'' he said.
Then he added, "There is no presence of the American columns in the city of Baghdad, none at all."
In the background was the black smoke and fire of recent American bombings.
I wonder if anyone actually believes this guy when American soldiers are tooling around downtown Baghdad on bicycles? You had to love the collapse of the statue of Saddam on a big horse near the parade grounds.
I am amazed that penetrating the heart of Baghdad seemed easier than many imagined. I hope for our troops' sake that remains to be true.
Watch Bush, he will never again mention Iraq's likelihood of possessing and using WMD's.
The focus of why we invaded Iraq will shift to something easier to stomach for the lemmings to parrot, like "liberating the oppressed."
Did anyone see the palace tour in Basra? I think Saddam must have been a rich Mexican national in a past life with all that schmaltzy decor. All the palaces lacked were giant statues of the Virgen de Guadalupe and Jesus and they could have easily been Mexican.
As far as war goes, everyone loves a winner, but let's not forget the human and financial costs and the damage done to our American image with foreign governments.
I hope this war has massaged Dubya's little ego enough for him to serve out his term without further wars and fade into the obscurity that such a mediocre person deserves.

Sunday, April 06, 2003

Six Feet Under

Poor Nate. He's stuck with Naggy Maggy and it's making him crazy.
It's making me crazy too, reminding me of all the safe relationships I've stayed in far too long because they looked good on paper or seemed like they should be fulfilling when they weren't.
Let's face it.
Love relationships have to have basic compatibility, a degree of kindness, honesty and some basic sanity, but to last they need a shared spiritual consciousness and some good, uncomplicated, exciting, regularly occurring sex.
Without that, I think we are all better off alone so we are free to find someone with whom we can have it all, if not most of it.
Ruth and her creepy new buddy Arthur the mortuary intern are very unsettling. I wish Kathy Bates' Bettina would stay on as a regular and become Ruth's playmate.
What scenes made you guys think the most?
Weekend Update

Got a bad haircut Friday. It looks like my hairdresser was called away on an emergency mid clip. She did the top but not the sides. I look like a hay wagon.
I discovered a new supermarket trick. When they have blueberries, raspberries and blackberries for sale and you want the sweetest ones, if you open the cartons and try one of each you won't be disappointed. I got the blackberries.
I saw the movie "Head of State" with Chris Rock and Bernie Mack last night. It was funny. Not brilliant funny, but several guffaws funny. We weren't expecting Shakespeare, so it turned out just fine regardless of what the critics said.
We went for Japanese food after the movie and I had a 16 oz. Japanese beer with dinner. Between the ricey carbos and the beer, today I awakened looking like a white pumpkin with a hay wagon on my head.
That was my weekend, how was yours?

Friday, April 04, 2003

Survivor Recap

The best part about Survivor last night was that my best friend Anna came over to watch it with me. She was getting hooked, I could tell. We had a reward challenge last night at my house and won big bowls of sugar-free, low fat Healthy Choice chocolate fudge brownie ice cream.
This episode was a little bland, however I did like the big "sledgehammer the masks" challenge.
I loved how Dave and Deena won the food reward, and after eating huge bowls of sweet glop, they went back to camp hungry. How was that for moxie?
Dave got the boot and his nocturnal cuddle buddy Heidi was among the booters. Jezebel!
Rob has now shown insane jealousy toward any male who casts an eye toward Heidi or Jenna, much like Mark David Chapman did toward Jodie Foster, and similar in that Rob stands about the same chance of shtupping those skinny bitches.
The line of the night: "He cweeps me out," uttered by Christy about Matthew, who apparently cweeps everyone out.
Rob thinks Cweepy Matthew could go postal at any minute, and I don't mean Barcodie-type postal where he starts to argue with very kind and sweet lady bloggers about war, I mean slashing people with his well-honed machete.
And what about Butch? Is he invisible? The man has parakeet balls. Deena's lawyer balls are at least twice the size of his.
Anyway, the show's rounding the bend and getting to the good part.
Matthew should be sweating. I think he's next.

Thursday, April 03, 2003

A Bone to Pick With Produce

What is up with pears? Today at the grocery store I selected two beautifully ripening Bartlett pears, skin smooth as silk and buttery yellow. By the time I got home they looked like they'd been in a prize fight, bruised and gashed and dented.
And oranges. I want sweet oranges, not grapefruit disguised as oranges. And I want normal peels, not these half inch thick models where the fruit inside ends up being the size of a plum.
And where did all these apple varieties come from? When I was little there were delicious, winesap and that was it. Then green Granny Smith apples appeared.
Now there are those plus gala, jonathan, cameo, braeburn, yellow delicious, fuji, boogaloo, cockadoodledoo, wingwang, macintosh, IBM, gateway, green delicious, jimbob and 20 other varieties I am forgetting.
When did papayas get to be 20 pound footballs? Even if I liked them, which I don't, how could I eat that much?
And purple potatoes? Who the hell wants purple potatoes?
Why do plums have to goof themselves up by having that bitter skin thing going on? Can't they hybrid that flaw out of them?
And didn't strawberries used to be a little bit sweet? Now you have to dip them in caramel or chocolate or cake batter to make them palatable.
As for lettuce, don't get me started. They have bags of tossed salad, bags of spinach and bags of field greens, so why can't they get some iceberg, romaine, bibb, redleaf and leaf lettuces and mix them together and bag them? Are they afraid they'd fight?
Birthday Girl and Madonna

Today's my pal Kelly's birthday over at Welcome to My Life.
I think it would be highly amusing if everyone reading this went over to her site and wished Kelly a happy birthday.
Let's see if we can blow out her comments box with greetings, shall we?

In other news, I see Madonna is trying to draw attention to her already tired new video by saying she won't let it air now because she doesn't want to be considered rude to the American troops fighting in Iraq.
Not to worry Madonna, I am sure nobody would have paid it that much attention anyway. But... nice try as far as trying to stir up some media interest. Yawwwn.

Well, we know it likely won't be Matthew getting the boot tonight because the previews showed him in a trance and that was too much of a clue. I learned from the same kind of preview when Shawna was feigning the vapors and didn't get kicked off.
Online prognosticators are picking Alex.
My usual 85 percent accuracy at picking this time around has clabbered.
I must do a quick person-by-person analysis...
Deena: Conniving enough to hang in a while longer
Christy: Oh, she's goooood
Rob: His sense of humor may keep him below the radar
Heidi: Even fake boobs are fun to eye. She'll last a bit longer
Dave: He's a physical threat and he's smart. But doggone it, people like him.
Jenna: Woof.
Alex: Another physical threat, but he's starting to look a little like a leper with all those face pustules and excessive weight loss.
Matthew: He's weird and cadaverous. Too obvious a choice.
Butch: Who? Blander than Cream of Wheat, he's highly expendable.

Okay. Because this is a jury pick, I think Alex is the safest choice for das boot. The others will think he's reasonable and will be okay to judge them. His looks may be shot but his body is still strong, so he is a threat. He kind of lost his gaming rhythm when Shawna was exuding all that estrogen around him. It made him woozy.
Matthew and Butch are too obvious to choose.
So, yeah, I think Alex is next.

Wednesday, April 02, 2003

The Secret of Youth

Did anyone see the latest footage of Saddam?
Not only was he relaxed and laughing, he has actually gotten younger, slimmer and his hair was darker than it was a few weeks ago.
Like Deena on Survivor, hardship apparently becomes him.
Sure, it was taped and there was no audio, but the Iraqi leadership wouldn't pretend he was alive if he wasn't. Would they?

In other news, still no weapons of mass destruction on the Iraqi front. Could it be Bush was bullshitting us? Nahhh, he wouldn't make things up, either.
Pussy Footin' Around

I hate war. I hate this war. I didn't want us in this war because I knew it would take longer than anyone thought and be more bloody and dangerous than the Pentagon said it would be. But we are there and we may as well win the damn thing and get out.

I suppose it's a good thing that American and British troops have been more respectful toward Iraqi mosques, schools, hospitals, Iraqi civilians, women and children than the Iraq mongrels who are 'defending' Iraq. The Iraqis get to open fire on coalition forces from the confines of sacred mosques and the coalition declines to return fire, not wanting to mar the sacred walls of their Islamic temples.
They get to use woman and children as human shields because they know they are fighting with ladies and gentlemen, under order not to stoop to their level. The Iraqi soldiers are fighting in civilian clothes, knowing the coalition has committed itself to curtailing civilian casualties.
News of the Americans killing a van full of Iraqi women and children has inundated our airwaves. One can only imagine how they are playing up the story in the Middle East.
Saddam and his sons are either dead, severely injured or playing an elaborate game of "Where's Waldo".

Coalition forces have littered the arena with tons of pounds of leaflets urging surrender.
Perhaps it's time to regroup and print up some new leaflets.

· Leaflet One: If you plan to fire on us from sacred mosques, historic gravesites, hospitals and schools, sorry, but we'll have to fire back. We'll be sure to document on video that you started it. Oh, and don't kill our POW's. That makes us testy.
· Leaflet Two: Ladies, if you plan to cruise around in your minivans, kindly stop at coalition checkpoints or we'll have to assume you are military clad as civilians and mess you up. Or better still, stay home. There's a war going on and you and your kids are not safe driving around.
· Leaflet Three: There's a groundwar in Baghdad. It's dangerous to be an Iraqi male outside, no matter how you're dressed. So Ali and Akbar, if you aren't in the Iraqi military, you'd best stay indoors or we'll have to shoot at you. Sorry, but your comrades are wearing your clothes and confusing us.
· Leaflet Four: We didn't expect this to last so long and we are getting tired and cranky. We started out playing touch football and you guys are playing tackle. So here's the deal. No more rules, okay? You do it your way and we'll do it our way. On your marks, get set, let's go!
· Leaflet Five: Attention all embedded reporters, freelancers, photographers and media. Go on home now. This is fixin' to get ugly and no job in the media is worth getting shot over. We'll let the generals fill you in on the details every eight hours or so while you folks drink your Frappuchinos over in Kuwait City. Go on now, scat.
· Leaflet Six: Saddam, Uday, Koozay and Oog-lay are dead. Ding-dong the witch is dead, lay down your weapons, pop in an Eminem CD, come on out with your white flags and let's get this partay started.

Tuesday, April 01, 2003

Memo to Saddam

Listen up, you dead son of a bitch.
You are fooling no one with these tired old pre-taped videos of you spouting a load of generic crap.
If you want anyone to believe you and your lunatic rapist sons are still alive, come on TV tomorrow night with your boys, and you be holding a sign with the name of the most recent person voted off Survivor, and I don't mean Roger from last week, you sniveling, dead bastard.
Rest in pieces, dude.
Please... Just... Shut... Him... Up

Egads. Just as I start to understand how abysmal Saddam Hussein was as a leader and see how dirty his terrorist military are fighting, Bush has developed a new style that makes him more irritating than ever.
Now when he makes his cliche ridden speeches, he's added a new delivery gimmick.

He... speaks... super... slowly... delivering... each... word... one... at... a... time.... Then... he... repeats... the... damn... sentence... all... over... again... we... were... too... slow... to... have... caught... it... the... first... freakin ...time.

Like he didn't sound dumb enough to begin with, this new slowtalk is embarrassingly tedious. I just can't stand to listen to the guy anymore. He's worse than ever.
Someone please just pat him on the head, give him the clicker, put him in front of a televised baseball game with a bowl of pretzels and switch him out for Dick Cheney as the official Whitehouse mouthpiece.
At least Cheney has that spooky speech pattern where he talks out of the side of his mouth without moving his lips much, giving him a nice, sinister look like Homer Simpson's boss, Mr. Burns.

Another thing is bothering me more and more lately.
Many of you may not remember GOP Senator Joseph McCarthy and his rabid witchhunt in the 50's, where he thought everyone was a Communist and he set out to destroy the careers of many artists, actors and entertainers who dared to speak out against certain government policies.
After he blacklisted several hundred Hollywood types, he turned his paranoia against the American military, which finally resulted in the Senate condemning him for his sickeningly dishonorable persecution of so many innocent Americans.
He died a disgraced, drunken laughingstock in 1957.
What is bothering me is the growing censorship of celebrities who voice opposition to the war. Susan Sarandon, Sean Penn, the Dixie Chicks, Martin Sheen, Lenny Kravitz and countless others have been vilified for expressing their views. Even veteran TV reporter Peter Arnett was canned for expressing his opinion on Iraqi TV because it embarrassed Washington DC.
For Christ's sake, we have a right to free speech. Why don't these miserable, insecure warmongers realize that and just shut the fuck up? Why are they so touchy?
Even if we were right to invade Iraq, and a case can be made for that, these right wing bastards make it impossible to support them because they refuse to concede basic constitutional rights to citizens who refuse to buy the party line part and parcel.
This is the kind of arrogance that makes us hated throughout the world. This is not freedom. This is not liberty. This is oppression and the lessons of Senator McCarthy are lost on these paranoids.
The silver lining is that history tends to repeat itself, and the worse these hawks get, the faster the public will tire of their bullshit and oust them.