This is what’s been floating around in my head for the past week. I need to clear it out to make room for more.
It’s supposed to be in the high 70s for the next few days, in NYC, in October. This is crazy!
I’m so disgusted with John McCain at this point that I just can’t stand it. I can remember, back in the primaries, when the field was narrowed to McCain, Clinton, and Obama. And I said to a friend of mine, this is the first election ever where I would be happy with any of the contenders. I mean, no question at that point I wanted Hillary or Barack to win, but McCain seemed different than the other Republicans.
So what the hell happened? When did he decide to sell his soul and give up who he is in order to be president? He used to have fans on both sides of the aisle. He used to say things that made sense. He used to seem in control of his thoughts. Now he’s spouting talking points with the worst of them and making disastrous campaign moves. If he can’t do the simple things well, like navigate talk shows and pick a running mate who would actually help him in the polls, how can he do the big things in office?
We are witness to the biggest economic collapse in history, and instead of talking about that, he thinks he can distract his way to a win, that talking about a guy Obama may or may not have been friends with in Chicago is at all relevant (as if every single politician didn’t have shady associations). Thank goodness it doesn’t seem to be working. But it just blows my mind that he thinks the voters are this stupid.
Then again, these are the same voters who elected Bush twice, so maybe his thinking isn’t so far fetched.
I was listening to The Michael Savage Show on the radio the other day (no, I’m not insane, I just like to check out what other people are listening to once in a while) and he played a clip of Michelle Obama saying something like “At least Barack knows what he doesn’t know.” Meaning, to anyone with half a brain, that if he doesn’t know something he doesn’t pretend to know about it, he’s honest with himself that he doesn’t know it. But Michael Savage went on a long rant about how if president, Obama will want to remain ignorant of things, that he would refuse to learn about things. That he would actually prefer not to know things.
I’ve never met a fan of The Michael Savage Show, so perhaps you guys could help me out, if you know any: are they that stupid? Are they that moronic that they believe this crap? I’ve never really understood in the past why talk radio was so popular with the right but not with the left. But I think I’m getting it. Far righters seem way more willing to believe anything that radio hosts tell them. I routinely check out The Radio Factor, and it doesn’t seem to matter what Bill O’Reilly says, how outrageous or unbelievable, his popularity just grows and grows. When he has someone on his show who disagrees with him, he cuts the call off before they have a chance to seriously refute anything he’s said. But the next day there he is, claiming that he listens to all sides, because just yesterday he had this person or that person on his show.
So I have to ask myself again, just how stupid are their fans? There’s a lot of nonsense talk on both sides, that’s politics. But conservatives really have cornered the market on letting other people think for them.
There’s a dead mouse in my kitchen right now. I’m a complete baby about dead mice. I will not scream if I see a live mouse, but dead mice completely skeeve me out. We used to have a huge mouse problem, finding droppings and mouse hair on the counter every morning and killing at least a couple every week. Now we only kill about one every two months. But this one didn’t die in the trap behind the garbage can, which is where most of them go to the big cheese shop in the sky. This one died in the trap next to the fridge, and it looks like it dragged the trap about a foot before dying, so it’s sitting in the middle of the kitchen, keeping me from getting a Diet Dr. Pepper or making the kids breakfast. My husband’s still in the shower, and I’m not going in there until he takes care of it.
I can take care of most things around the house. I’m way better with tools than my husband. I routinely take out the garbage and recycling, shovel the snow, clean gross drains, and go out on the roof to clean the gutters. But I can not get rid of dead mice. If one ever dies when my husband is out of town, the entire trap will be going in a garbage bag, along with the two-foot-long BBQ tongs that I’ll have to use to do the job.
James Taylor was on The Colbert Report a couple of weeks ago, and Stephen Colbert asked him a few questions about his famous song, “Fire and Rain”. The story that I had always heard about that song was that it was about his girlfriend, who had been flown in secretly to see him by his road crew while he was on tour, but her plane crashed. So when Stephen asked him about using pyrotechnics and a rain machine while performing “Fire and Rain” I was thinking to myself, that’s really dickish, even for Stephen Colbert’s rather dickish character on that show. Or perhaps he hadn’t done his research, which also seemed unlike him.
This really bothered me, thinking how horrible it must have been for James Taylor to face someone making a joke about the love of his life dying in a horrible accident. So I guess it was my love for Mr. Colbert that caused me to finally do some research about the validity of the plane crash story. Turns out it’s BS. According to Snopes, different verses of the song are about different things, including a friend of Taylor’s committing suicide, his addiction to heroin, his recovery, and his band’s break-up. But it’s certainly not the literal story about a broken airplane in pieces on the ground that has become legend.
I just finished a four-Saturday run of a children’s show that had, in it’s entire run, roughly the same number of paying customers as it did cast members. Truly humiliating.
We went out to dinner last night to a diner in Queens, and the waitress was weird. She was a great waitress in just about every respect but one: dealing with our children. She was clearly fond of them, and she was very nice to them, but when it was time for dessert told my daughter that she had to take one more bite of her dinner before she could have her ice cream. Umm…not your territory, lady! I politely said “Thanks, but she’s done with her dinner.” And she gave me a weird look, like I was letting my daughter get away with something sinister, as if she hadn’t yet crossed the imaginary threshhold of eaten food that existed in this woman’s head.
Originally posted on Selfish Mom