Oh Senator Inhofe!  You sir are my favorite Senator for today.  You’ve called out global warming for the farce that it is, and for that you are great.  But this quote gets you the crown today.

I’ll tell you what a lot of people are thinking, and that is it looks like things are going to be over and we are going to get the clown from Minnesota.

And yes, you were referring to Al Franken.  And you’re fighting against the atrocious Cap & Trade.  Why that makes me feel downright represented.

Is anyone else wondering about the connection here?  We’ve got 2 really terrible bills that OMG must be passed NOW! The planet is dying!  I swear, it’s really true.  Trust me, I’m from the government.  You don’t need to look at all the dissenting scientists.  And some people don’t have medical insurance.  It’s not their fault they buy pot and beer and lottery tickets instead.  They are victims.

The health care reform bill is attempting to enslave the broke to the government by holding their health in the balance.  Dear Reader promises that you can keep your existing coverage if you like it.  This will just be there as a safety net.  Funny, I thought my health insurance premiums were already paying for my ’safety net’ against medical expense.  So the regular taxpayer that wants to keep their coverage now gets to pay for both.

Well that’s all hunky dory right?

But what happens when your electricity bill is more than you can afford?  Where do you think the local coal fired power plant is going to get the money to pay for their carbon licenses?  What happens when your employer’s bills go up?  Think you’ll get that annual raise?  Christmas bonus?  Or might you just get a notice of termination?

And suddenly you find yourself broke and far from alone in your new situation.  Suddenly that ‘public option’ becomes the only option.  It doesn’t really matter anymore whether or not you liked your private coverage.  The clinics will fill up with those forcefully bound to the government’s teat.  What else are you going to do?  And so you hop into the line that treats patients in the order they were received.  This is the Hope and Change.  Hope that tumor isn’t malignant.  Change that bum heart out yourself.  Hope you rank high enough when they do a cost/benefit analysis on you.  Maybe you’ll just get painkillers instead.

My son is getting older.  He’s 10. You know, all the fingers.  He dresses himself, sometimes even in clean clothing that matches.  He can ride a bike.  He washes himself.  He can warm up food in the microwave and even does a little of his own laundry.  Sure I liked it when he needed me for everything, but I like the man that he is growing up to be.  I like that he is becoming more independent.  It means I get to spend more time with his dad.

If all goes well, in 10 more years kiddo will be more or less on his own.  Sure he’ll still need a parental bail-out from time to time, but the ratio of candy to vegetables in his diet will be his issue, not mine.  And I won’t need a sitter.  10 years is not all that long. We’ll still be young.

Hubby and I didn’t really get a lot of time to be just us before having a child.  I don’t regret that one bit.  We decided years ago that if we hadn’t had another by the time we were 30, we’d pull the plug (snip, tie, you know).  When I was 29, I was so very excited to get off the pill.  I talked to my doctor about options and was ready to schedule.  And then hubby waffled.  He wasn’t ready to turn his back on the idea of more kids.  Fine.  I’ll take the pill for 5 more years and then we’ll shut it down.  Because I. Am. Done.  DONE!

I like being the mom that can escape diaper changes because I’m way out of practice.  I like wearing dry clean only jackets with no fear of vomit.  I like having real conversations with my son.  I love the lack of Barney in my house.  And of course, there is my ass.  I kind of like having it all trim and perky.  I’ve worked hard for that.  And in a few years, I could get the version of the car I’ve pined after with no backseat. (Shortly after we married, my husband bought me a 1982 Datsun 280ZX 2+2 with a 5 speed and t-tops.  It was even red.  I loved that car.  Loved. That. Car.  It was also the first manual I ever owned.  It got broadsided in the rain, and I’ve wanted another ever since.)

And then I catch hubby flirting with a cute younger woman.  They were gazing into each others eyes and everything.  She touched his hair.  His face.  He was clearly smitten.  My heart broke.
Read the rest…

So the House of Ill Repute passed Cap and Trade by a narrow margin.  We’re supposed to believe that this measure will save teh planet from Glowbull Worming.  You know, since Al Gore said it, it must be true.  Maybe I’m terribly naive, but I kind of think a bill should actually be written before anyone votes on it.   Of course, maybe someone should scientifically prove the existence of Glowbull Worming and the underlying causes.

But instead, teh Pelousy rush, rush, rushed it on through.  Because it’s important that we believe in the power-point presentation.  The world could die!  Cow farts!  Oh the humanity!

And so the Vegetation Asphixiation Act of 2009 is headed to the Senate.  We can hope some great minds actually write something which can be read and voted down.  Don’t hold your breath.

Short answers for small talk can lead to laughable interpretations.  I was on the stationary bike in the office gym on Friday chatting with a coworker.  Hubby had to run an errand before picking me up so he was later than usual.

Coworker:  So where’s hubby tonight

Me: Picking up ammo

Coworker: Going shooting this weekend?

Me:  Nope, family reunion.

Yep, I’m making words up again.  It works.  If a commercial is about commerce, and an infomercial is about information, then the All Barry Channel filled some otherwise dead air with something about Dear Reader.  Not that it mattered.  No one watched it anyway.  We have enough of the media blowing their load all over Teh One as it is.  It’s hard to believe they can show that on network television.

The event, hosted by ABC News’ Charles Gibson and Diane Sawyer, gave Obama a prime-time forum to promote his healthcare overhaul. A total of 164 guests were invited. ABC pre-screened questions, though the White House was not made aware of what they would be.

Oh yeah.  They pre-screened them just like the advertisers.  All Barry Channel fluff girls.  They made sure nothing flacid or unexcited about the star made the cut.

The audience — which included doctors, patients, health insurers, students and people with ailing relatives — clearly was unhappy with the current healthcare system. Gibson asked for a show of hands to see how many wanted to leave the system unchanged. No one raised a hand.

What a shocking referendum on the current situation!  A group of people that were hand-picked, pre-screened, prepared, and fluffed all agreed with the official narrative!  It’s almost like that was part of the prerequisites for being selected. Anyone not toeing the line got a ball gag and cuffs, maybe even a free trip to re-education camp for a nice whipping.

The administration is dripping in anticipation of ramming their long hard debt down the throats of the people.  They aren’t even taking the time to romance it and get to know it better.  It’s just another Wham! Bam! Congress Quickie!  How terribly stimulating.

*and now we commence with all new visitors via Google searches.

I guess someone is listening to me!  Iranian diplomats are no longer invited to the barbecue.  They can still pass notes n’stuff though.

Hey, at least it’s a start.  Maybe next we’ll see the All Barry Channel uninvited to the slumber party at the White House.  Nah.  That would be asking too much.  You know, because government run media is exactly what Thomas Jefferson wanted.

“The most effectual engines for [pacifying a nation] are the public papers… [A despotic] government always [keeps] a kind of standing army of newswriters who, without any regard to truth or to what should be like truth, [invent] and put into the papers whatever might serve the ministers. This suffices with the mass of the people who have no means of distinguishing the false from the true paragraphs of a newspaper.” –Thomas Jefferson to G. K. van Hogendorp, Oct. 13, 1785. (*) ME 5:181, Papers 8:632

Er…something like that.  Besides, Dear Reader needs something that makes him feel cool like the celebraties.  If only they would start talking about him on those gossip shows!  Maybe if he and Michelle went out and had a bunch of kids which they trotted out for self gratification and attention and then announced their divorce on prime time then he could get noticed.

Meanwhile the Iranians are literally dying in the streets to get noticed by the Americans.  Yes, noticed by us.  In case you were unaware, they don’t speak English in Iran.  The signs are for our benefit.  Maybe they should have written them in French.  The French do have a little experience in revolutions after all.

What are you planning to do for Independence Day?  Most of us are planning to gather with family and friends and be grateful for the freedom that we enjoy.  We declared our Independence from a tyrannical government on that day in 1776.

So what does our Dear Reader have planned?  Having tyrants over for a barbecue. That’ll teach ‘em.  They aren’t planning to discuss policy matters.  I assume they’ll have casual conversations about manufacturing votes.  Or maybe they’ll talk about how to deal with those pesky tea-party extremists with their low-level terrorism.  And what do you serve at a barbecue with mullahs?  Infidel’s heads on platters?  Salad topped with the blood of innocents?

Is it really too much to ask for the administration to at least have balls enough to say, “If you don’t stop killing your citizens, then you can’t come to my party?”