Archive for August, 2008

PUMAs for Palin.

Is anybody surprised that so many PUMAs are jumping on the McCain-Palin bandwagon? Insane Train’s selection of Miss Congeniality as his running mate has given them just the opening they wanted.

“To hell with the issues; to hell with qualifications. I’ll vote for anything with a snatch!”

It must be embarrassing and disturbing for Clinton to realize that these dumbasses consider themselves her supporters.


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We’re engaged.

Such are the legal complications of gay marriage, that I am now engaged to my husband. ๐Ÿ˜€

I got John a white gold engagement ring with sapphires and tiny diamonds. It had to be white gold, and had to have diamonds and sapphires, not because that’s what he wanted — he didn’t even know he was getting a ring — but because it’s what I wanted to give him. I think it’s a good combination. So I looked all over town and got the best one that that was anywhere near my budget. I ended up getting the very first one I looked at, but I had to check everything else to be sure. I’m pleased with it, and he seems pleased, too.

I had originally planned on proposing on top of Grandfather Mountain, but when I mentioned driving up there, John said he thought it was pretty strange that I’m too cheap to take him to a movie, but I’ll spend $75 on gas for a day trip to Grandfather Mountain. So much for Plan A.

So, I got him a Riverbanks Zoo Society membership for his birthday, and I was planning to propose there — either at the aquarium or in the botanical gardens; I was going to play that part by ear. John said it was too hot to go to the zoo yesterday, though. So much for Plan B.

We went to see WALLยทE yesterday afternoon, and it was such a good movie that I nearly forgot about how badly I was being ripped off — $8.75 a ticket, and $16 for a large popcorn and two Cokes. Salt for the popcorn, I kid you not, was $1.50 extra. From now on, Regal Cinemas can kiss my ass. But anyway …

After eating every bit of our overpriced popcorn, we were both too full to go out to dinner, so we decided to go straight to the club, where we were supposed to meet John S and Bobby at 9:30.

Saluda River RapidsOn an impulse, I decided to stop off at the rapids, a popular area on the Saluda River right next to the zoo. This is a view of the spot from Google Earth. It was uncharacteristically uncrowded, just a few people down the river from us, and they weren’t even visible once we got right down to the river. I sat John down on a boulder, slipped the ring out of my pocket while he was watching the rapids, and popped the question. Yes, I got down on one knee. Yes, he accepted. He hesitated just a moment, but then he said Yes. I was really relieved; you never know.

We’re planning a Massachusetts wedding in April or May, and I’m hoping for Boston Public Garden. John S and Bobby said they’re planning on a San Francisco wedding later this year, but I pointed out that (a) they have to go to Massachusetts for our wedding, anyway, (b) New York City is on the way to Boston, and we could stop off there for a couple days, and (c) New England and Quebec offer ideal honeymoon locations. They seemed to agree, so the double wedding might still happen. (Definitely no double honeymoon, though.)

And while I’m typing this, the love of my life comes up to me and says, “Smell my head.”


“Smell my head. Smells like bubblegum.”

“The new shampoo I bought?”

“Yep. Smells like bubble gum.”

“Do you like it?”


All right, then. ๐Ÿ˜€

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Hurricane GustavIt’s official. The reason the upcoming Rethug Convention will be subdued and uninspiring is not because the party no longer has anything to say or anything to offer, but because of Hurricane Gustav. Linda Lingle, Governor of Hawaii, was on MSNBC today saying, “There is some dampening because of the problem there in the South. … partying when others are facing tragedy is not the right thing to be doing.”

Of course, that’s true. People will be facing tragedy this week, and that’s no time for a party. If there hadn’t been a hurricane, things would have been different. There wouldn’t have been anybody facing tragedy. There were no Americans without health insurance, and no American workers whose jobs had been moved overseas by rapacious corporate executives; there was nobody facing tragedy in Iraq or Afghanistan or anything. If it just hadn’t been for this damned hurricane, boy, the Rethugs could have had a hell of party, but Gustav changes everything.

Shrub and Dick won’t be going to the convention at all, again because of Gustav. It’s not because three quarters of the people in the United States hate their guts. Really, it’s not. It’s because of Gustav.

ShrubShrub will be overseeing federal response to Gustav, first from Washington and then from Houston. It’s very important, they say, for him “to be seen” taking this threat seriously. And after all, there’s no effective way for the federal government to communicate with anybody in Minnesota. It’s vital that Shrub use his super brain and the power of his righteousness to protect the people of the Gulf coast, so obviously he can’t be gallivanting off to some convention.

Insane Train McCain and Mrs Bud, with Miss Congeniality, decided to go to Mississippi today to get a briefing on the hurricane, presumably, again, because it’s very important that they get this information in Mississippi. Miss Congeniality, one may assume, is also poised to fly to Anchorage in the event it becomes necessary to deploy her troops to the Gulf.

DickOne hopes the Rethugs will try and see if their crack team of creation scientists can’t possibly devise some means of communicating with people at a distance. Audio and even video communication with people far away would be a tremendous boon to the operation of government, if only such communications were possible.

Most serious of all is Dick’s response. Having canceled his appearance at the convention because of the impending landfall of Hurricane Gustav, Dick will instead be visiting Azerbaijan, Ukraine, Georgia, and Italy. Because, you know … well, I’m sure it has something to do with Gustav. Really.

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The goddamn Batman

John Pinette: France and Italy

Steve Greenberg, Ventura County Star
Fiscal conservatives

Burns and Allen

File sharing is not piracy

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Harvey Fierstein – Gay Pride:

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Miss Congeniality.

Kay Bailey Hutchinson on Sarah Palin: “I don’t know too much about her, but maybe that’s the good news.”

Hutchinson’s name had been kicked around in the talks about McCain’s possible running mate, and she’s said to be privately miffed at the selection of Sarah Palin, but she’s a good sport in public. She might as well be. There’s no point sulking in public when your man dumps you for a younger woman; just ask Carol McCain.

I’ve got to admit, I don’t know much about Sarah Palin. I mean, Governor of Alaska; who keeps up with that? There are more people in Indianapolis than in Alaska. Not the Indy metro area, mind you; the city of Indianapolis proper.

So, I’m a little in the dark about Sarah Palin. (I mean apart from her being Miss Congeniality and Mayor of Wasilla.) I’ve formed an impression of her already, though. I think I’ve met this woman before.

I can’t be sure, but I think this is the cheerleader who “accidentally” tells on the girl she saw smoking out behind the gym.

The woman in your neighborhood who sells Tupperware and Avon, and drops by unexpectedly just to chat.

Sarah PalinThe woman at your job who invites you to her church, and comes by your desk every week or two with a big manila envelope, saying everybody’s chipping in five dollars for a gift for Boss’s Day or for Shirley’s daughter’s baby shower.

The woman who says, “If we all came in a half hour earlier, we could have a staff meeting every morning!”

The woman who runs into you at the grocery and introduces you to another shopper as “one of my dearest friends,” even though you’re not sure what her last name is.

The woman who spends forty-five minutes telling you about all the factors she considered when deciding which church camp to send her children to.

The woman who sends out misspelled memos urging employees to “Give 120%!!!”

The woman who is so unfailingly enthusiastic, so relentlessly nice, that you feel a little guilty for loathing her with every fiber of your being.

Or maybe not. But that first impression is pretty strong.

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Insane Train McCain makes a ludicrous selection for running mate, picking Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska in an apparent attempt to lure the PUMAs — who were pretty much in his pocket anyway.

But I’m thinking mostly of my opportunity to taunt my right-wing Republican relatives who have repeatedly disparaged Hillary for being a woman, and who always say that women have no place in elected office. I guess they’ll have to shut up about that now. ๐Ÿ˜€

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