Obama and Olbermann = Marx

Equating the two with Karl Marx would be appropriate enough but too predictable. I'm going with the other Marx on this one: Groucho.

I'm old-school enough to know who Groucho Marx is (grew up watching "You Bet Your Life" when it still came on television), so I love this photo comparison of Groucho and Keith Olbermann.

Also worth a watch is this video of Obama. Set to a song from the Marx brothers' 1933 film, Duck Soup, which lampooned authoritarian governments (it was banned by Mussolini), it's both funny and depressing at once.

Get through the first few seconds of the soprano chick, and the rest is spot on.


OM G. Gordon Liddy on Sotomayor's Menstruation

We already know that "America's Wisest Latina Lady" has a tendency to talk out of her ... you know where.

But now G. Gordon Liddy wants us to think about what else comes of her ... well, he puts it this way:

"Let’s hope that the key conferences aren’t when she’s menstruating or something, or just before she’s going to menstruate. That would really be bad. Lord knows what we would get then." (Hear it for yourself in the clip below - around 25 seconds.)
The liberal media is up in arms over the quote, calling it "sexist," but I'm a woman, and what I call it is hilarious. I'll be interviewing on Liddy's show next Tuesday, and for his sake, I can only hope I won't be "menstruating or something."


What Have They Got that I Haven't Got?

Mad spelling skillz, that's what.

*Welcome Instapundit, readers! Glenn probably linked here so you could learn how to spell laodicean, but I'd like to think it was so you could hear how I aspired to be a porn star as a child.*

For those of you who don't know (i.e. those of you less geeky than I am), last night was the Scripps National Spelling Bee. It's the Super Bowl of the super smart. Middle-schoolers from across the country compete for the prestige of knowing how to spell words that are completely unusable in conversation, unless of course the conversation is with Noah Webster's ghost. For instance, laodicean, which apparently means lukewarm or indifferent to religion or politics, was the final word that scored the 13-year-old winner $37,500.

Because I was watching King James tear it up on the court last night, I missed the Bee. (The link, from the NYT, makes an interesting connection between LeBron and Kavya's victories.) But I did watch the semi-finals on ESPN, and noticed these kids have something else that I haven't got:

Mad-crazy-hard-to-spell names. Kavya Shivashankar (winner), Anamika Veeramani, Neetu Chandak, Sidharth Chand ... the list goes on. In fact, I think it stretches all the way to India. Reminds me of the yo' momma jokes of my youth. You know: "Yo momma's so fat name is so long the phone book has to list her in two area codes."**

I think these parents may be onto something. By giving their kids monikers that sound like they got caught in a clothes dryer on the way to their birth certificates, the kids are forced to be spelling prodigies. Half the words these kids are asked to spell are no more difficult than their own names. Case in point: champion Shivashankar and her final word laodicean.

Not surprisingly, if you read the career aspirations of these brilliant Indian Americans, er, kids, you will see a common theme. You know what they all want to be when they grow up? Neurosurgeons. You know what little white kids want to be when they grow up? Porn stars*** or criminal masterminds, at least in the case of me and The Other McCain. Unfortunately (or would it be fortunately?), neither of us suceeded, so instead we blog.

At least we can take heart in the fact that neither of us are laodicean, and that we now know what that word means and how to spell it ... thanks to a sixth-grader.

**That's right, when I was a kid, we sat around telling each other yo' momma jokes, which explains why I didn't place first in the only on-stage spelling bee I ever participated in. It was second grade, and I went out on the word "rasberry." Yes, rasberry. The silent "p" is as unecessary now as it was then. Maybe if my parents had gone with a last name like Loganquacious (Logan + loquacious, a word that fits me well, as you all know), things might have gone differently that day. Who knows, maybe I'd be a neurosurgeon right now.

***For those who didn't click the "porn star" link. Good for you. As a reward, I'll re-post the story here:

Confessions of a child wannabe porn star.

As a small child, my family used to drive past a giant billboard bearing (and baring) a pretty blonde girl. I didn’t know what she was advertising, but I did know I wanted to grow up to be just like her. True story, folks.

It was years later that I realized growing up to be just like her would mean working nights at the local "Nutty" club. Yeah, at the time, my mom told me that N-U-D-E was pronounced "nutty," and so a “nude club” was actually a comedy club where you went to hear nutty jokes. Nice, mom.

Back to the billboard: keep in mind that we were on our way to church when we passed this sign. Also keep in mind that my dad is a preacher. Makes it even better doesn’t it?

In hindsight, it’s no wonder that his hair had fully grayed by the time I was 5-years-old. I suppose the fact that it’s now white also can be added to my list of daughterly accomplishments. That's almost as good as being a champion speller, right?


I Like My Men Big. Also, Various & Sundry Links That You Should Click.

I had a thing for basketball players in high school and apparently still do.** The blogging has been light lately and will continue to be until after the NBA finals next week. What? A girl's gotta have her priorities. And watching Kobe and King James ball it up takes precedence over, well, just about everything.

While I haven't been writing much, these folks have, so I'll leave you with their collective brilliance:

Troglopundit is talking about sex, lies, and videotape. Okay, really, he's just talking about two of those, but to find out which ones, you'll have to click the link. (For all of you hoping it's the sex and videotape combination, I won't say it's not, but shame on you.)

Moe Lane highlights the hypocrisy of the save-the-whales-and-everything-else-except-the-humans types, and lets us in on his last meal request with you can have my gyro when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.

Last night, I was running at the gym while watching the Cavs and Magic OT nail-biter. I had to stop the treadmill a few times so I could jump up and down and yell profanities at the television. Little Miss Atilla is yelling profanities, too, but for a more noble reason. She says in an email:

"Yes. I posted on this issue SIX times today; I'm furious. I love my Cruiser, and I hate seeing people's livelihoods ripped away from them for no &#%$!@# reason at all."

What's raising her ire? The administration's move to shut down Chrysler dealerships.

Pundette is throwing some profanity, Little Miss Atilla style, into her posts, too. (I tried doing the characters-as-expletives thing at the gym but it just didn't have the same effect.) And, she reveals that apparently the Obama administration and I have something in common ("The Obama admin is into BIG") with her post on national sales tax.

The Other McCain has a post up about the difference between the North and South Bronx. New York City is dear to my heart, but even if it's not yours, it's still a hilarious read.

Jimmie Bise shows his wit with his title Diplomacy So Clever, You Could Pin a Tail on It and Call It A Weasel.

One of my favorite bloggers, Paco, had his one-year-blogiversary a few days ago. I like him because he's funny, and pictures like this prove it.

Being from California, I should be watching the same-sex marriage Prop 8 saga a little more closely, but my parents are keeping me updated. For those of you who don't have the good fortune of having Californian parents (who are awesome, btw): Legal Insurrection and American Power are the go-to guys for the latest responses to the state's decision to uphold the ban on same sex marriage: federal lawsuits and ... kissing protests?

Stephen Gordon, who is a wonderful man with a wonderful wife that I have had the pleasure of knowing outside the blogosphere, has drawn up a Contract for a Free America, a suggested direction for the conservative movement. He explains the purpose this way:

"Instead of spending all of our time making ad hominem attacks on the left, I thought I'd try to begin a process of coming up with a new plan for the right."
And, he wants your input:

Please rip this apart with the goal of coming up with a winning collection of ideas designed to start moving our country back in the direction intended by our Founding Fathers. Let the Ripping Begin.

That's all, folks!

**Because inquiring minds want to know. Yes, Big Sexy is a baller (and a spoilsport because he won't let me post the link that proves it. Use your google search, people). Also, he is, uh, big ... and ... sexy.


Memorial Day Remembrance from a Veteran

I received this touching email from a dear, 76-year-old reader and veteran, Don. He served during Vietnam, as did my own father. I want to publicly thank both of them for their service, and share Don's email with you all:

"I'm an emotional old man, and at times I become so emotional that I can't speak coherently, so I didn't call anyone to say what I want to say for fear I would choke up and not be able to speak.
Perhaps writing it will suffice.

On Memorial Day in 2009 I unfurled Old Glory and placed her in her stanchion on a post of my carport to wave in the gentle breeze in honor of those men and women who gave their lives in uniform so that all of us can enjoy our liberty.

Then I went about my daily routine, all the while mourning those who died for us.

I've known people who died in service of our country since the days of World War II.

One of my best friends who was a year ahead of me in high school was drafted shortly after he graduated, soon sent to Korea, and killed within a week. I served on our high school ROTC honor firing squad at his funeral......one of the toughest things I have ever done.

My oldest brother served under combat conditions when American forces returned to liberate the Philippines from Japanese forces. He survived that war and is still alive. My next older brother, now deceased, also served in WWII without seeing combat and also survived that war My next older brother served in the Air Force during the so-called "conflict" in Korea, but was never sent there, so he also survived and is still living. I served during the war in Vietnam, but was never sent there.

I think the three of us were blessed to have been able to not only serve our country, but to have survived that service.

I hope that on Memorial Day 2009 every American took at least a few moments to in some way honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice for them, and to reflect on how blessed they are to live in freedom in the USA."

Thank you for sharing, Don. I hope we'll remember to not just reflect today but everyday.

Remembering Those Who Never Came Home

I know that many of us, including myself, are enjoying this three-day weekend, getting together with friends and family at barbecues, etc. But amidst all of the fun, please take some time to remember that Memorial day isn't just another day off. It's a day to honor the thousands of soldiers who have made the ultimate sacrifice - their lives - so that we can live on in freedom.

I've included two videos in remembrance. The first video includes the refrain, "Please remember me." The second, the song "I Will Remember You."

For the soldiers who never came home, please take a moment to watch the videos, and while you do, say a prayer of comfort for the family's left behind who will be struggling through this day.

"Please remember me":

"I will remember you":

Today and everyday, God bless the families left behind and the men and women who are still fighting on.


Swimsuit Fear and Self-Loathing in Alabama

(H/T to Hunter S. Thomspon for the title.)

My dear blogging buddy Jimmie Bise over at Sundries Shack has (not so) subtly requested that I post pictures of myself wearing everyone’s favorite summer garb – a bikini. Uh, make that everyone who didn’t just spend the last hour looking through the latest Victoria Secret catalogue. Those folks (me) may never leave the house again. And, if they (I) do, it will be to go to the gym and they (I) will be outfitted in a muumuu — a long-sleeved muumuu.

Don’t believe me that it’s that bad? Check out the photo below to see what I (and every other woman in America) has to measure (heh) up to. Don't get me wrong. I love me some Adriana Lima, but she’s fit to kill … meaning she’s so fit all of us women would like to kill her with an overdose of cheeseburgers. Okay, maybe just induce a mild coma.

Envy aside, here's your Rule 5 for the week. And, before you complain, all you're getting is a one-piece. My preacher father reads this blog.

Update: WJP over at the Liberty Drum thinks that I should join the Atlanta Steam edition of the Lingerie Football League. Maybe I'll try out ... and then in a show of comraderie buy the whole team cheeseburgers.

Dems Prove Success at One Thing: Truth FAIL

As we all know, we currently have "the most honest, most open, and most ethical Congress in history." How do we know that? Because Ms. Pelosi told us so, and we all know, she doesn't lie.

Oh, wait, that's right. We have one of the most dishonest, underhanded and corrupt Congresses in history, and she does lie and rather poorly at that. I mean, if you're going to lie, make it something believable. In Pelosi's case she could have said she was a person of integrity and character rather than a deceitful old hag. Nevermind. That's even less believable than the waterboarding thing, isn't it? (Sorry. It's late and my snark dial is set on high.)

At least she's not a lonely old hag. Deceit runs in her party, like a snag in a woman's pantyhose. The Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW) recently released a report showing 12 of the 16 Congressional members under investigation are (drumroll, please) Democrats. If you're not shocked, you must have got The Other McCain's memo that "the Democratic Party is a conspiracy whereby liars advance the cause of evil with the assistance of fools."

At least the Dems have proved they can succeed at something. Too bad that something is a truth fail.


The Other McCain further elucidates Democrat deception with these stats from his 2006 book, Donkey Cons: Sex, Crime, and Corruption in the Democratic Party:

In Chapter 2, "Rap Sheet," [co-author] Lynn took on the task of counting every serious charge of corruption or criminality involving members of Congress since 1976, and found 46 Democrats to 15 Republicans. So it's certainly true that Democrats are the more criminal party -- by a 3-to-1 margin! Read the rest.


Some Like it Hot: Marco Rubio vs the NRSC

Jimmie Bise says Marco Rubio is the new hotness. What do I say? Hell yeah he is.

Proof: his farewell address to the Florida House Representatives where he served as Speaker:

The dreamy Mr. Rubio is sure to make any red-blooded conservative woman swoon with his talk of natural rights and the God who granted them, limited government, and the greatness of the American people. Of course, his perfect teeth and tan don't hurt either. Note the standing ovation he receives for the "God is real" portion of his message beginning around 5:30. Can this guy get any more perfect?

The National Republican Senatorial Committee must have been smoking something when they decided to back RINO extraordinaire Charlie Crist over the (young, hip, Hispanic, and magnetic) truly conservative Rubio. As a twenty-something, I can tell you that guys like Rubio who can articulate a conservative message clearly and with passion are exactly what my generation need. The NRSC's decision is a tragedy and warrants every last bit of the vim and vigor they're getting from the thousands of folks who are banding together right now to boycott them.

From the new anti-NRSC blog, Not One Red Cent:
Republicans across the country were outraged by this action [to endorse Crist over Rubio], which is only the latest betrayal of grassroots conservatives by the out-of-touch GOP elite in Washington.
I'm with Rubio and the Not One Red Cent folks on this one. I just have one question: Is he married?

Pundette shares excerpts from Rubio's recent interview with the NRO, which covers his stance on everything from tax reform to the borders.

The Other McCain offers a great rundown of Rubio-related links. You all know what I'll be doing for the rest of the day ... scheming up a plan for having Mr. Rubio's babies, according to The Other McCain. I had been planning on just checking the links, but his suggestion may be more fun at that...

No Sheeples Here has more on the anti-NRSC, grassroots rebellion.

Update II:
It's come to my attention (thanks, Pundette--sort of) that Mr. Rubio is married. Oh, well, I can still drool can't I?

Awkward Moments, Tony Danza Edition

How time flies. It's been a week since the first installation of my regular new blog feature: "Awkward Moments." I had my own story to tell (shocking, I know), but it will have to wait until next week. I'm nominating the video below starring Tony "Who's the Boss with the big fat foot in his mouth" Danza for the Awkard Moment of the Week award.

(Ps - Notice the thick Brooklyn accent. I'm gunna get myself one of those someday.)

Via Mental Floss.


Football and Politics

Anyone who knows me well knows this: my blood runs black and gold. So, when my dad called to say that Pittsburgh Steeler's linebacker James Harrison wouldn't accompany his Super-Bowl-winning team to the White House to meet Obama (he didn't attend the 2006 meeting with Bush either), I was looking forward to talking about two of my biggest loves at once - politics and Steeler football.

Alas, Troglopundit beat me to it. Smart man that he is, I don't agree with Trog's conclusion that Harrison's position means he thinks "merit sucks." Considering Harrison was the defensive player of the year--a meritorious achievement, indeed--I think we can safely say that's not the case. Watch this awesome video for further proof.

Merit aside, what is particularly interesting about all this is a question posed to reporters by Harrison himself:

"Let me ask you a question. Why is it a big issue now that I'm not going if it wasn't a big issue the last time?"

Why indeed.

I don't want to turn this into one of those "because the media has a permanent ticket on the Barack Obama Bandwagon Express" rants, but in this case, that may be the most logical explanation. Harrison doesn't want to meet the Big O! A pox upon him, says the media. Where was their outrage when Harrison turned down the opportunity to me G.W. in 2006? As Harrison himself notes, it was noticeably absent:
I'm surprised they're making a big deal about it. 'Oh my, James Harrison isn't going to the White House, he must be a devil worshiper.'
(I'm sure the media would love to attribute the move to racism, buuuuut since Harrison's black, they've got to go with the devil worship. Of course, it makes sense: he is refusing to meet with the "Messiah.")

Further to his credit, he goes on to say that he's a football player who has nothing to do with politics. Hat tip to Mr. Harrison for recognizing that fame and fortune do not a political savant make. Someone should pass the memo along to all those red-carpeters turned liberal spokesmen.

Harrison sums up the story with this: "Really, I could care less about the reaction. That's my decision and I'm sticking with it."

And, while we're on the subject of Pittsburgh, this is too weird not to share: Pittsburgh teen uses biology class snake as a jump rope.


Kindergartners Get Ready to "Go Gay" in CA

(Yes, that is a boy. No, it's not a joke; it's a tragedy.)

When I attended kindergarten, I ate glue and played with play dough. I also kissed red-haired boys named Matthew Zuki on the playground and picked my nose (not at the same time).

In short, I was a 5-year-old homophobe.

At least, that's what one California school district seems to think of all California kindergartners (of which I was one so many years ago):
"The Alameda Unified School District announced it was considering a supplemental curriculum to eradicate 'homophobia' in kindergarten children."
Yes, because the problem IS so rampant. So while we're teaching kids how to read, we can also teach them how to be gay. If we end up with an entire generation that reads with a lisp, don't say I didn't warn you. Read the whole makes-you-sick-to-your-stomach story here.

On a related note, Hanna Rosin's story on transgendered children from The Atlantic last fall entitled A Boy's Life (where the above photo was taken) is a fascinating, albeit cringe-worthy read.

This explains a lot....

My mother called me tonight. Having read my blog post from earlier today in which I accuse her of force-feeding me bread as a child thereby causing my breadphobia, she was determined to clear her good name. The conversation went like this:

Mom: I remember your sister chasing you around the house with bread, but that was probably because I told her to.
Me: Gee, thanks, Mom.
Mom: But I never made you choke on the bread. Okay, well, I'm pretty sure it was only that one time.
Me: Oh, is this like how you only went to the grocery store and left me home alone as an infant that one time, or how you locked me in a dark garage on purpose when I wouldn't go to sleep as a toddler that one time?
Mom: Oh, no, I did those things way more than once.

Explains so much, doesn't it?

Childhood traumatization aside, she's still the best mom ever and the funniest woman that I know. And she's one of those rare ladies who manage to make it all look effortless. I propose a "toast" to my mother; made with white bread, of course.


How to waste the next four minutes of your life...

... Otherwise known as "Eleven Facts about Me."

Apparently, there’s a new disease circulating around the blogosphere – filthy blog pox. I caught it from Dave. To get rid of it, you have to post eight random things about yourself.

Random fact number one: I am egotistical enough to a) have a blog and b) think you care enough about my personal life to read the following seven facts. Or, maybe you don’t care, and you’re just bored. If so, you and I have a lot in common.

2) I know you think I spend all of my time writing for free out of the goodness of my heart, but I’m quite the mercenary and enjoy writing for money much more than writing for the thrill of a blog comment here and there. I do a lot of home design work – one of my latest is this amazing firetower.

3) I am terrified of white bread. As a small child, my mother found my phobia odd. Convinced I would like it the more she tried to make me eat, she would shovel it into my mouth without abandon (also without awareness as to whether or not I was actually swallowing). I think I choked a few times, and it scarred me. My older sister, who undoubtedly watched all this while rubbing her hands together in fiendish glee, used to chase me around the house with bread for fun. Or was it for torture? Either way, also scarring. Then, I grew up. And my friends in high school and college who discovered my fear would cover my car in the filthy stuff – windshield, door handles, everything – at which point I was reduced to a (walking) blob of bread-centered neurosis.

4) While I can't eat white bread, I can eat Mexican food everyday of my life … and often do. Sometimes for breakfast. Now, I could leave this random fact at that, but like the doting dog-mother that I am, I'll use any excuse to talk about Buddy, or "Doggie" as my mom calls him when she forgets his name, which is usually every time we talk.

The other night, I was sitting on my bed eating a plateful of chicken enchiladas, rice and beans. I mean, I was sitting properly at the kitchen table. Who eats in bed? Gross. Anyway, to the right of my plate was a Kleenex with the evidence of my three-week long cold/strep throat/personal hell (otherwise known as impressively large snot globules). Doggie walked up, sniffed my plate for a second, and shot me a look that says, “You’re going to eat THAT.” As I sat there, reflecting on the fact that my culinary sensibilities were being judged by a creature who frequently licks where the sun don't shine for fun, Doggie grabbed the tissue and swallowed it whole. Obviously, he is not a fan of Mexican food, which I’ll remember when planning the menu for his next birthday party.

5) Speaking of parties, I haven’t always given my dogs birthday parties, but we always gave them Christmas presents, which leads me to the fact that…

6) I never believed in Santa, or sat on his lap in a mall. Actually, I think my parents tried to make me once, but I told him he wasn’t real. Also, I told all of my little friends he wasn’t real. I got coal in my stocking one year. No one was surprised.

7) I was homeschooled for eight years, at which point I transitioned into a private high school where I got into exorbitant amounts of trouble, so my parents decided to ship me off to a (tiny) strict, Christian school for homeschooled kids just outside Washington, DC. I don’t want to make it sound like I was forced, though. They gave me options: it was that or one of those boot camps for rebellious teens. Being the academic that I am, I chose the former.

8) Until college, I had only made one “B” in my life. It was in penmanship. I cried, a lot. When I made a couple more in college, I cried again. Bonus: I can cry on command. Useful for getting out of a speeding ticket, making a man feel uncomfortable and panicky, or cleaning out your tear ducts.

Overachiever that I am, and to be sure I’m properly immunized, your facts now come with 37% more bonus randomness:

9) I love wit and sarcasm. If you can banter with me, you’ll be my friend for life. In conjunction, I love Stephen Colbert; I hate The Office.

10) I’m a pastor’s kid and grew up thinking I would marry a pastor. Speaking of marriage, I broke the “family code” by not marrying at 22. This bothers my mother greatly because she fears I’ll become a bitter old maid. It bothers my father because he wants me off the family’s phone plan.

11) I’m heading to Atlanta to volunteer with kids over the next six months, after which I’ll need either a job or a husband. I’ll be accepting suggestions for both over the coming months.

Now, I’m off to infect Paco, Becky, and Liberty Drum and see if they’ll play, too.


You'll Like This Girl

My best friend (who is more like my "statistically significant other") is coming into town this weekend, so the blogging will be light.

Instead of reading my nonsense, spend your time reading her. She's a bright new light in the blogosphere and her blog's subtitle alone makes you want to read: "Wearing heels, packing heat, and saving babies..."

Today, she goes after Obama. Yesterday, it was Pelosi, or was it the Wicked Witch of the East? Eh, same dif. She also tells it like it is in What a girl wants. Hint: it includes leather, guns, and... pink?

Go pay her a visit, and leave a comment!


Awkward Moments, Installation 1

This will be a new recurring feature on my blog in which I will exploit, er, highlight someone's awkward moments. Because I'm short on time today--I have writing to do, the kind that actually pays me--you get me for Awkward Moments installation (AMI) #1. I have approximately 1, 347 of these in my personal memory arsenal so if I share one a week that means you can keep reading until at least the year 2034, at which point I'll have at least that many more, so you'll be able to keep reading until that Final Awkward Moment when you die.

Awkward Moments. We've all had them. You say or do something that provokes an awkward silence. You know, the kind that forebodes a lonely and painful death-by-embarrassment. Or, rather the kind you wish would forebode a lonely and painful death. Immediately. Because who's going to hold an awkward moment against a dead guy? Sadly, in the cruel, Hobbesian way of the world, death rarely comes when you'd like it to, and you're left standing (awkardly) alone, a husk of a man with only your embarassment to keep you company.

Yesterday, my moment happened in a library, which until yesterday, I had always thought of as a place for the advancement of my mind rather than regression of my ego.

It all started harmlessly enough. My computer was dying and I needed to plug my power adapter into an outlet. The nearest outlet happened to be located underneath a table where a man was sitting. Without thinking (the perfect beginning to a perfect awkard moment), I got down on my hands and knees and looked up at the (nice-looking) man and asked, "Sir, would you mind if I got underneath you?" He said nothing. I'm hoping because he was deaf, but more likely because he wanted the awkwardness of my question to sink into my soul as deeply as possible. Bonus awkardness ensued when the man sitting nearby (also nice-looking. Why are they always nice-looking when you're making a moron of yourself?) began to snicker.

That's when I decided my computer battery wasn't dying that quickly after all, at least not as quickly as I was on the inside, and I retreated to the safety of the (empty) magazine section.

Awkardness: 2, Dignity: 0.


These Guys Mean Business

Some bloggers take their writing seriously. In other words, they don't rely on "Cheerios as drugs!" as post-worthy content. This makes me happy, because it leaves that niche for me to fill. Here are a couple of today's great examples:

Stephen Gordon over at the Liberty Papers crafts an apology speech from the Republican leaders to the American people. I wasn't sure whether to say "Oh, snap!", cry, or stand up and applaud. So I did all three.

The Other McCain is in Sherlock mode, asking Is Rush racist? The answer is "no," but you should read the post anyway because it might not be long before someone is asking the same of you:

Every conservative discovers, sooner or later, that to criticize liberal ideas is to be adjudged guilty of some "-ism" or diagnosed with a "phobia." Nowhere is this more true than in the realm of race. Read the rest.

Jimmie Bise proves how seriously he takes his writing by turning down the doobie: No, Senator Cornyn, I Don’t Want What You’re Smoking. He goes on to say, "I don’t know what John Cornyn sees in Crist, but it’s not the same thing I see." Um, maybe his deity? Oh, right Crist, not Christ. It's 9 am, and I dont actually start using my full brain capacities until ... well, they should be kicking in any day now.


Cheerios As Drugs and Sugar-Coated Serial Killers

Some people are addicted to fun things like heroin or meth. The really lucky ones get hooked on gambling or sex. You know. Things that make people for feel sorry for you when you say "Hi, my name is [Insert Clever S.Logan] and I'm addicted to...."

Turns out, I'm addicted to something that until today I didn't even realize you could be addicted to: Cheerios.* (See the bottom of the post for addiction #2.) The FDA just released a statement noting that Cheerios are actually “a drug,” and who am I to argue with the federal government? It makes sense: That's why they're called cheerios. The logic doesn't stop there: cocaine comes in a clear plastic bag. Cocaine is a drug. Cheerios come in a clear plastic bag, therefore ...
According to a letter from the FDA, General Mills' advertising violates the federal Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act. The agency claims that Cheerios can lower cholesterol within a certain amount of time while providing cancer-fighting and heart-healthy benefits makes Cheerios "a drug" by FDA definition. No drug in the United States can be legally marketed without an approved new drug application. (Hat tip: Blackfork)
Huh. And, all that time I thought I enjoyed Cheerios because they were so tasty.

Excited about something new and ridiculous to blog about, I immediately turned to google to see if I could find any politicians who claim to have an overt love of drugs Cheerios. My search results were not quite what I had expected:

*"Jailed shooter excited about getting to wear his favorite color all the time." Too bad it won't be for very long since he is on death row and all. An orange-shrowd, perhaps?

* The Myspace headline of a guy who has branded himself as America's favorite serial killer. Adding to the oddity, his entire wall is filled with Bible verses, such as Philippians 3:13-14: "Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal..." Somehow, I don't think that becoming America's favorite serial killer was the kind of goal Paul was talking about.

*The story of Kevahn Thorpe, “a fashion fanatic and a serial shoplifter for whom jail was not too steep a price to pay for the labels he loves.” Apparently, his brother commenting on his high taste in fashion said, “He got no hood in him at all.” Well then. I don’t know anything about the “hood” (at least not yet) but I am guessing he doesn’t have any cheerios in him either, which makes him irrelevant to this post, although an interesting six-page read if you click the link.

*"All we're saying is that many of the world's most terrifying serial killers are in fact roaming free, and could be outside your door right now ... I'm not worried. I'll just invite them in for a bowl of Cheerios and then have them join me for a Cheerios Anyonymous meeting. If they refuse, I'll sic my ferocious attack dog on them.

By now, you may have figured out what i was figuring out right about now: I had mistakenly googled "serial" rather than "cereal." It makes for an interesting five minutes on the Internet, but I don't suggest you make the mistake tomorrow morning. "Sugar-coated serial killer" isn't likely to get your day off to a great start. Although, as soon as you got your Cheerios fix, I'm sure you'd feel much better.

*I've 'fessed up to one addiction, I might as well admit the second. Big Sexy, this is all for you. And, for the record, Buttercup, that thirty-second comment was supposed to read thirty-hours.)


My Dog is Holier than Your Dog

I'm on the Protestant side of things, religiously speaking, but I've got to side with the Catholics on this one. (Hat Tip:  Little Miss Attila.)

"Yellow" Fever Epidemic Sweeps through Blogosphere

William Randolph Hearst Would Be So Proud. Moe Lane is calling for a return to yellow journalism:

... Based on the historical record, what the American people want [reporters] to do is to go out and alternatively tweak and praise local power structures via proudly and openly biased articles that make no secret of their own opinions, and that offer no pretense to an objectivity that never really existed anyway. In short the American people want ‘honest’ yellow journalism for their day-to-day news. Read the rest.

For better or worse, human nature is drawn to the sordid and the sensational. In its heyday, yellow journalism explored and exploited the heights and depths (okay, usually just depths) of human nature. Then, newspapers known for the style read like a mix of Hannibal Lecter meets Girls Gone Wild. Today, they're often as intriguing as reading the full transcript of Press Secretary Gibbs' briefing on swine flu. (I did, and I think contracting swine flu would have been less painful.)

In those days, the mantra was the more violent, sexier, and scandalous the better, and people loved it. They still do; the fascination reader's have with sex and scandal (and speedo pictures) helps explain why Stacy McCain's blog is so popular. Incidentally, Stacy recently lamented that sensationalism is all but gone from today's dailies. 

While neither Moe, Stacy, nor I am suggesting that newspapers go willy-nilly in indulging the base tendencies of their readers, it couldn't hurt and would probably help if newspapers, as one Slate reporter said it, "contained a little more blood, took a position without being partisan, yelled a tad more, and brushed some yellow from the palette while painting their stories."

In fact, I think the willingness of bloggers to jazz up journalism is precisely why more folks are turning to them for their news fix. They have tapped into the irresistible appeal that cut-and-dried, faux-objective news stories just don't have. Here are a few links that are just the tip of the sometimes-outrageous, sometimes-sex-ridden, sometimes-scandalous, but always-opinionated iceberg out there in the blogosphere:

And, last but not least (seriously, this may be my favorite), Protein Wisdom shares a yellow-journalism-esque photo of Obama and the Dems with appropriate headline: Somewhere, H.L. Mencken Is Laughing.

I'm sure you want to click ALL of the links above so I'll leave you to it.

Oh, wait, one more thing: I'm with Moe on the whole yellow journalism thing, but I have to take issue with the "PS" to his post:
"And we can stop requiring specialized college training for journalists any day now. From what I can see, it’s pretty much wasted on them anyway."
Wasted? My dear Mr. Moe, had I majored in something other than journalism, I would probably have spent the last half hour doing something other than writing this blog post and ... er ... touche.

UPDATE: Welcome Instapundit readers! While you're here, check out some of my own recent yellow-journalism-esque posts:


Obama Acknowledges He's "The One"

At the White House Correspondent's Dinner last night, Obama had this to say:

"I believe my next hundred days will be so successful that I will be able to complete them in 72 days. And on my 73rd day, I will rest."

Of course. He is "The One," afterall.

Proceeds from the dinner go toward feeding the hungry and funding journalism scholarships.

To streamline the funding process, they could just use the money to feed the hungry journalists. It's getting rough out here, and if we all waste away from starvation, who will be around to attend next year's dinner? Of course, I'm probably biased ... which considering I am a journalist is appropriate.

The American Entrepreneurial Spirit ... and Sex Toys?

For the past little while, I've been mulling over the Barack Obama dildo. (You know you need a new hobby when ...) I'm obviously not personally interested—if they made a Mitt Romney version on the other hand, uh, of course I wouldn't buy one—but my entrepreneurial spirit is intrigued.

(As an aside, here is a little obligatory Rule 5 goodness. Mitt possibly suggesting how large his, er, version would be?)

Everyday, folks get a great idea, or in the case of the Barry O dildo a greatly disturbing idea, and run with it. So many times I've seen products and thought, "Huh, I so had that idea," or "I so wish I'd had that idea." Thankfully, neither of these crossed my mind when I ran across the presidential sex toy.

The difference between those who are capitalizing on their ideas and me (and probably you, too), is that they've been willing to take a risk and follow-through. And, sappy as it sounds, isn't that the heart of the American spirit, the backbone of our economy—to have the confidence and courage to pursue your dreams?

Ken over at Red Dot in a Red State has put his ideas into action and is selling some pretty cool conservative gear. You should visit him. While you're there, check out the t-shirt I just ordered, and pick one up for yourself.

People like Ken inspire me. I have a pretty awesome (I think) idea that may or may not involve Mitt Romney... I'd like to start the ball rolling on it while I'm unemployed/working with the inner city kids over the next six months, so if anyone has tips or inspiring stories about making the transition from great idea to great product, please share!

If you're one of those, like me, who's got a dream and is trying to figure out how to make it a reality, you might find these quotes as inspiring as I have over the years:

Often the difference between a successful man and a failure is not one's better abilities or idea, but the courage that one has to bet on his ideas, to take a calculated risk--and to act. -- Maxwell Maltz

The galleries are full of critics. They play no ball, they fight no fights. They make no mistakes because they attempt nothing. Down in the arena are the doers. They make mistakes because they try many things. The man who makes no mistakes lacks boldness and the spirit of adventure. He is the one who never tries anything. His is the brake on the wheel of progress. And yet it cannot be truly said he makes no mistakes, because his biggest mistake is the very fact that he tries nothing, does nothing, except criticize those who do things. -- Gen. David M. Shoup

If you want to succeed you should strike out on new paths, rather than travel the worn paths of accepted success. -- John D. Rockefeller

Take a chance! All life is a chance. The man who goes the furthest is generally the one who is willing to do and dare. The sure thing boat never get far from the shore. -- Dale Carnegie


Those are some sexy... elbows?

Pundette is contemplating suicide having been sufficiently sickened by the slobber-fest going on over Michelle Obama's "burnished and beautiful" yet "threatening" arms.

I'd be tempted to do the same, but frankly I don't give a damn about her arms. I prefer her derrierre, myself.

I don't know how Little Miss Attila feels about Michelle O's caboose, but I do know that she doesn't discriminate against a good pair of biceps. Men, women, and transgendered persons', she likes 'em all.

Speaking of sexy, I had no intention of ever talking about sex toys on my blog, but for a Barack Obama dildo I have to make an exception. (Also willing to make an exception for Mitt Romney version). Having seen this, I'm a little tempted to join Pundette in ending it all. I might as well, I think a little bit of my soul just died anyway.


President Obama Isn't a Hypocrite, After All

Because, starting next month, I'll be doing my part to increase the unemployment percentage, I feel obliged to comment on this:

Stats just released by the Labor Department show that the jobless rate has shot up to 8.9 percent - the highest it has been in over 25 years.

On the flipside, the department also released figures showing that the month of April showed fewer job losses than in any month since October. That's progress, right? Not exactly.

Over at Hot Air, Ed Morrissey reveals that the reduced job-loss rate was a result of Obama directing stimulous money to hire 72,000 workers, mostly for "temporary Census jobs."
Once those jobs dissipate--and being temporary, they will--we'll be back to square one.

I have no doubt that Obama's intentions are noble, but his methods are tried-and-untrue. And, it's the results of his skewed tax and spend tactics, not his motives, that are affecting ordinary Americans.

An interesting write-up over at the New York Daily News, sheds some light on Obama's bound-for-failure financial policies:

It is no surprise that President Obama supports unprecedented spending and borrowing in the federal budget since he has never suffered any consequences from the excessive spending and borrowing in his private life.
Like most of you, I’m no longer shocked when stories of Obama’s personal hypocrisy surface – as they always do. (I’m less shocked not because he’s a Democrat but because he’s a person, and it often just goes with the territory, rather like breathing and avoiding family reunions like the plague.)

But this time it isn't about Obama's hypocrisy but his consistency. He's attempting to handle the country's finances as he did his own—by relying on increased spending and borrowing.

One blogger, with a funny name, writes:
"Obama showed in his personal life that he doesn't have even a vague understanding of money. He showed that the desire for pretty ponies and cool shoes outweighs a prudent view of current income, reasonable debt, and required savings and investment. This personal defect is borne out in his public policy to our detriment."
Of course, it was a book deal that eventually saved the Obamas from financial chaos. Maybe that will work for America, too. The book could center on how his stimulous bill has stimulated nothing except the demise of the free market. We could call it, The Audacity of the Obama Presidency: Thoughts on Ruining the American Dream.

Update: Sundries Shack has more on the Obama’s “rags” to riches story, which stars the First Lady, or as she is more properly known, a "rich woman playing at being working class."

Update 2: Well, that was short-lived: It seems that President Obama IS a Hypocrite, After All.

Kitty Cats, Puppy Dogs, and Me: Oh My!

Ever since I was a little girl, I've loved animals more than most people. And, I don't mean that I like animals more than your average person; I mean that I've liked the animals in my life generally more than I've liked the people in my life.

Much like every other kid who wasn't going to be a doctor or a fireman, I was going to be a veterinarian. Much unlike every other kid, I would sob at the sight of roadkill and carry my goldfish Silver (I know what you're thinking. Yes, I was an exceptionally creative child. Also exceptionally colorblind.) around in his bowl in case God decided to take me home. As the reasoning process of a four-year-old goes, if I went and I was holding my fish, he would go with me. Things got even more interesting when we added a cat and cocker spaniel to the mix. But I digress.

The point is I love animals, and that I just came across a super simple way to help them. By clicking on the link below you can help feed rescued animals. The sponsors record the number of clicks and donate food to rescue shelters accordingly. Just today, nearly 300,000 bowls of food were donated!

Click this link, The Animal Rescue Site, then click the purple button. Pretty please? It's for the furries!

If you don't, my sweet little Havanese, Buddy, who normally looks like this:

Will turn into this and hunt you down:


Terrorists Coming to a Neighborhood Near You!

As a follow-up to my earlier post on Hawaii's decision to declare an Islam Day, here's a video that suggests where all those Islamic terrorists will go now that Obama has declared his intent to shut down Guantanamo Bay. I've watched it three times, in part just to hear my favorite movement (O Fortuna) from Orff's Carmina Burana.

H/T: Creeping Sharia

The video highlights a number of states, but Hawaii is suprisingly absent. Considering the state's recent declaration, I think we should ship them all there in time for the September 24th festivities.

Mark Your Calendars for Islam Day!

If you don't have any plans for September 24th, Hawaii's state Senate would like to cordially invite you to join them in commemorating Islam Day!

From Fox News:

Hawaii's state Senate overwhelmingly approved a bill Wednesday to celebrate "Islam Day" -- over the objections of a few lawmakers who said they didn't want to honor a religion connected to Sept. 11, 2001.
You know why it was "overwhelmingly approved"? See for yourself. You'll notice just two of Hawaii's Senators don't have the dirty little "D"-word after their names. The same two voted against the bill on the grounds that celebrating the religion of the Sept. 11th terrorists two weeks after the anniversary of the attacks would be in poor taste. Coincidence? I think not.

This is just one more example that Democrats are willing to sacrifice anything on the altar of tolerance. Justifying his vote, Democrat Senator Will Espero proclaimed, "We are a state of tolerance." Tolerant you may be, Mr. Espero, but you may recall the words of the great G.K. Chesterton:

"Tolerance is the virtue of the man without convictions."
I can only imagine the liberal response had this vote not passed: "How bigoted! How old-fashioned!" Instead, how about: "How American!"

I realize that our national collective memory is embarrasingly short-term, but it was only eight years ago that bombers in the name of Allah murdered nearly 3,000 Americans. And, now we have a state-sanctioned day to celebrate the religion they represented? All while our kids are forbidden to pray in school and anyone who speaks out against gay marriage comes under intense personal scrutiny and derision. The Democrats may be the "party of tolerance" but only if the ideas in question are rooted in liberal ideology.

Ironically, and to his credit, less than two years ago, Barack Obama warned that Democrats must not ‘equate tolerance with secularism and forfeit the moral language that would help infuse our policies with a larger meaning.’

Maybe the Hawaiian senators missed that memo. Or, maybe they're right. I mean why shouldn't we be tolerant of Islam since it is so tolerant of us. Except, of course, for that one small part about all of us needing to die.

Allah via Mr. Muhammad:
"...Slay the pagans where you may come upon them, and take them captive, and besiege them, and lie in wait for them at every conceivable place" (9:5).
I guess the Dems who voted for Islam Day couldn't see that passage--probably because they were blinded by their tolerance.

Seriously, one has to wonder if these guys have even read the Qu'ran. I have. (Yes, all of it.) It's not often that I wish to find ignorance operating among our elected leaders, but in this case, I can only hope it's sheer oblivion and not something more sinister at work.

I hope you'll all join me in saying screw the Hawaiians on September 24th. I’ll be following in the way of the Spaniards and stuffing fireworks into a Prophet-pinata, while singing God Bless America, eating exorbitant amounts of pork, and drinking gratuitous amounts of alcohol, at which point I may or may not do something that involves 72 virgins. (Hi Mom and Dad! I don't drink. Ever. Not even water. This is all hyperbole!).

As for all you non-infidels out there, mark your calendars for September 24! It's sure to be a good time for everyone who is not a pagan. Entertainment will be provided by women in hijabs and burkas. Refreshments will include non-tasty, non-pork-and-alcohol edibles. To cap off the night, fireworks will be provided by suicide bombers.

Hope (not) to see you there!


Pig Bladder Grows Back Man's Finger

That's right. Apparently, pigs are good for something other than pulled pork and swine flu, afterall. "Pig powder" applied to a man's severed finger grew it back completely in just four weeks:

Lee Spievack, of Cincinnati, who sliced almost half an inch off the top of his finger described the powder as “pixie dust..."

The “pixie dust” is actually extra-cellular matrix, bursting with collagen and is made from a dried pig’s bladder...

"Extra-cellular matrix" sounds super, high-tech and all, but I have a feeling Tinkerbell may have had something to do with this.


Punk-smacking the Beyotch, er, Behar

Thanks to Jimmie Bise over at The Sundries Shack (who's also writing for Hot Air's Green Room now!), I have had a major change of heart:

I no longer think Ann Coulter is a bombastic, insulting heiffer.

For years, I've maintained that her style was divisive, alienating to individuals on both sides of the political spectrum, and just down-right unladylike. As a conservative, my position has embroiled me in more than a few arguments. Finally, I'm acquiescing.

Sort of.

I still think she's bombastic and insulting, but she's directing her ire at Joy "Beyotch" Behar, which makes her awesome. The thirty-second Coulter vs. Blabbering Behar video is worth every second.

If there's ever a time to break free from your link-clicking-laziness, do it now. Seriously. It's the best smack down I've seen for awhile. It's also the best thirty seconds I've spent since ... well, this wouldn't be time for a Big Sexy reference would it?


The Dark Side

X-Men Origins: Wolverine producer Ralph Winter in an interview with Patrol Magazine:
"I think more people than we want to admit live on the dark side. I think that, you know, we are misled if we think that being a Christian means your life is going to be peachy; it’s just not going to happen. There are so many stories to tell, there is so much darkness, unfortunately in our lives, as we don’t get along ... That’s why I think stories like that resonate with an audience that struggles with a world that’s not happy and perfect."
Dude. I haven't seen the movie yet, but I can so relate right now.

Ironically, even (or should I say "especially"?) in the times when life isn't peachy, God is still showing Himself: "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." (Rev. 3:19).

The following quote on the subject is from one the best devotions you'll ever read - Streams in the Desert by Mrs. Charles E. Cowman:
"Affliction does not hit the saint by chance, but by direction. God does not draw His bow at a venture. Every one of His arrows goes upon a special errand and touches no breast but his against whom it was sent. It is not only the grace, but the glory of a believer when we can stand and take affliction quietly."
To take affliction quietly. To realize that great pressure means great power. Those are the keys to triumphing even in the dark side of life. A sentiment echoed in this poem, taken from the same devotion:

"If all my days were sunny, could I say,
'In his fair land He wipes all tears away?'

If I were never weary, could I keep
Close to my heart, 'He gives His loved ones sleep?'

Were no graves mine, might I not come to deem
The Life Eternal but a baseless dream?

My winter, and my tears, and weariness
Even my graves, may be His way to bless.

I call them ills; yet that can surely be
Nothing but love that Shows my Lord to me!"

~ Selected

Winter is right. Life isn't always happy and perfect, but I'm at peace with that because I've seen over and over again that my "God is our refuge and strength, a very present and well-proved help in times of trouble." (Psalm 46:1)


Sunday Morning Tradition

We all know that no one actually reads the newspaper anymore, let alone buys it, but we can still get our Sabbath-day dose of the comics thanks to Paco Enterprises. His regular "Sunday Funnies" feature is, well, funny.

Last week's post.

You'll have to check his site for today's post!

Ps - I'll be on the road all day with no internet access, but will be back first thing tomorrow.


Don't Kiss the Pig!

Ah, too late:

I'm not a big fan of forwarded emails as a rule, but I received this in my inbox (thanks, Aunt Becky!) and considering the latest hullabaloo over the "swine flu" or whatever we're calling it now, I thought I'd share.

Remember, folks, wash your hands, cover your mouth when you cough, and above all, don't kiss the pig. (But, if you do, do it with gusto like this munchkin. Then, take a picture and send it my way.)

Ps - I'm out of town starting now, so the posts may be scarce this weekend. Hopefully, the ManBirdPig Flu will be, too.