That’s my girl

It’s been a while since I checked in with her, and I don’t do well with change, so it’s a relief to know that our friend Michele Bachmann is still as crazy as ever. This time, she temporarily blocked voting on the resolution that celebrated Hawai’i’s 50th year as a state, and, (oh!) also named it as the birthplace of our 44th president. Controversial stuff, there, right? Thankfully, her nuttiness didn’t impede the resolution from being passed 378 – 0 (not that it was unanimously approved; over 50 cowardly jackholes just abstained from the vote).

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing

I told Satanski that I’m a little grossed out by Spongebob Squarepants (due to that gross episode where he has the Suds), so of course he decided that all he wanted to do for the rest of the night was draw me various Spongebob-esque pictures. This only stopped when I told him that he couldn’t use any more sheets of paper until he’d used the backs of the sheets he’d already used. This is always the point at which he stops.

Here’s the gallery:

Again?

I never tire of asking what is wrong with people, and as usual, the dawning of a new day just brings me new people to despise and pity. The culprits this time? Some stupid yahoos in West Bend, Wisconsin, who think that censorship, law suits, and book-burning (literally) are perfectly cromulent responses to books in the Young Adult section that they find inappropriate. No rational person is going to argue that every book in a library is appropriate for every person who who may walk into that library. And I’m all for parents having a say over what media their children consume (until those kids are over 18 or paying their own way in life). But instead of these people just telling their own children not to read certain books, which would be well within their rights as parents, they want to label and move books and prevent other people’s children from having access to them, too.

Instead of being ashamed of themselves for being so fearful and hiding their intolerance from the world, such people wear it proudly like a badge and want to get more people to join their crusade. Ginny Maziarka is one of the spokespeople for the efforts to censor the library’s materials and amend its policies for labeling young adult material. She seems to be the leader of those in West Bend who are trying to prevent other people’s children from reading things that their own parents may not find objectionable, and runs the West Bend Citizens for Safe Libraries web site.

This is what I don’t get about so many issues that people object to; if you don’t like it, don’t do it/watch it/listen to it/eat it, etc. Why should I have to live according to what you believe? And who gets to say what is appropriate anyway? I mean, I find those Purity Ball things highly suspect, but I would never force grown men to stop encouraging their daughters to wear prom dresses, don pseudo-wedding bands, and pledge their virginity to their fathers. Because that’s not creepy at all.

Thankfully, Ms. Maziarka does not speak for the entire town, and there is a reasonable response to that site, in the form of Sleepless in West Bend. The library is for everybody (even weirdos)! There are a lot of things in the library that I kind of give people the side-eye for even wanting to look at, but that doesn’t lessen my support for those items to stay in the library. I’m not sure how I missed out on hearing about this sooner, since Gawker covered it over a month ago.

Well shoot

I’m home sick, and as is my wont when I have free time and the weather’s crappy, I’ve been roaming around the Internet. Since I called out of work, I don’t want to be posting on Facebook or Twitter, even though, realistically, sneezing and coughing shouldn’t mean that I can’t type, right? But better not to do anything that could be misinterpreted later. So here’s the article that I would have posted on Facebook if I was posting there today.

Here’s a Gawker article about how very screwed John Edwards is. Like a lot of people, I really thought that he might have had a chance to do something great for this country, and was really disappointed at how badly he messed things up. What is it with these politicians who cannot keep it in their freaking pants long enough to make good on the myriad promises that they’ve made to us? Why do they believe that they won’t get caught? Didn’t anybody learn anything from Gary Hart?

Now, though, instead of just losing all credibility with pretty much everybody and seeing his political career die a really ugly public death, he also has to be concerned that he’s being accused of fraud for payouts made to Rielle Hunter, the woman with whom he had the affair. What a dummy. Hunter received over $100,000 from the Edwards campaign for videos that look like what my 13 yo nephew could do with a camera and iMovie. Once again, The National Enquirer was there with the story before any of the big boys deigned
to report it.

Belfast

So I’m having a pretty good time here in the UK. Northern Ireland is lovely, and it seems that I brought with me unexpectedly good weather. Lots of people commented to me how unusual the warm sunshine was. You’re welcome, Belfast.

For the most part, the people I met were awesome. A lot of them were really interested to hear that I was from the US and genuinely wanted to know what I thought of their fair city. Many expressed admiration and apprehension that I was on my own, and I felt like I’d traveled to a city of my own relatives. The first night, I met three older guys who showed me the local bars and told me all sorts of stuff I wouldn’t have learned otherwise. One wanted to grab dinner the next night, but I figured that it would be silly to tie myself up with the same parties two nights in a row, and nicely declined. A word of advice to anybody going to Belfast: eat early. I guess I was still in New York mode and thought that leaving my hotel room after 10 would give me time to grab food and hit the pubs, but that was absolutely not the case. I struck out at all the restaurants I saw, and was lucky to make it to McDonald’s before they, too, shut down for the night.

The next night, I learned my lesson and left to find food at 8:15 (and even that was too late to get food at some of the local pubs that served meals). I had a good dinner, went back to the hotel and watched Dollhouse and the first episode of Cupid (I’ll talk about that some time later), and then went to a couple of local bars. The people in the first weren’t really as outgoing, so I left after one drink and ended up talking with Ricky and Ian, two nice guys who work at the Belfast Telegraph. We chatted for a bit outside, but they were smoking cigarettes and I was kind of freezing, so I told them to find me when they came inside the bar.

As I sat waiting for them, this old, super drunk guy who was actually sleeping when I first walked by awakened and started mumbling to me. I have discovered that it is nearly impossible for me to understand a Belfast accent when the speaker is under the influence, so I gave him a vague smile, told him I was waiting for my friends, and went back to reading on my phone. He had just asked me to join him at his table when Ian and Ricky showed up. He scowled at us and all was well until about a half hour later, when the guys went to grab more beer and I stayed at the table. Then the drunken fossil asked me how much I would charge to go back to his home with him. At first I thought that I’d misunderstood, but he said it again and I realized that he thought I was a prostitute.

I was really hurt and wondered what I’d done to give him that impression. Later, I realized that being a single foreign woman alone in a bar, who then ended up sitting at a table and talking with two local men might give somebody the wrong impression, if that person was inclined to think like a pervert. But, while I realized it wasn’t worth disabusing him of his incorrect notion, I simply said no and decided not to stick around for the pitch. I went over to the guys at the bar and told them what the old dude had said. They were touchingly offended on my behalf, and when we got back to the table, the fossil kept yelling vulgar things at use. Ian, the cute one who looked like David Wright (he’s never really done it for me, but add an accent and I can start to understand the appeal) got up, looking pretty angry, and headed toward the old guy’s table, but Ricky stopped him from going over there, and we ignored the fossil after that.

We stayed at that bar until last call, then went to another one. On the way, I somehow managed to lose one of my pretty new dangly earrings, which made me sad. I pulled out the other one so I didn’t look deranged. Even though we went to another bar afterward, we got there after last call there, too, so I helped Ricky talk to a girl he found cute. Things were going well until she told him that she was 24 and he told her that she looked 28. It was not untrue, but that lost him major points, and it took him a while to recover his lost ground, and a lot of that was due to me. I guess I haven’t lost my touch and still make a pretty awesome wingman. The guys and I parted ways in the cab back to my hotel. I got out to find my earring and had no luck, but I went back out the next morning before leaving for the airport, and found it with no problem! It was a little crushed, but I think that it can be bent back into shape.

I had heard that there wasn’t a lot going on in Belfast, and I scheduled my vacation accordingly. If I’d known before booking how awesome Belfast is, and how relatively sedate Birmingham is in comparison, I probably would have spent 4 days in Belfast and only stopped over in Birmingham for the concert. I definitely intend to go back to Belfast and spend a lot more time there!

The first Jason Mraz concert is tonight, and I’m a bit worried. I’ve heard from a person who went to a concert in Brussels, and he said it was blah, and that’s exactly how one of the free London dailies described the Mraz concerts in London over the weekend. Maybe a day off will allow him to rev up and be on his A game for Birmingham. I’m keeping my fingers crossed!

Duh

Dear Burn Notice,

You cannot have a character played by Lucy Lawless and expect the audience to believe that she is some sweet mother who is suffering because her son was kidnapped. Lucy Lawless is visual shorthand for AWESOME ASSKICKING WOMAN. How is it possible that the casting people didn’t know this??? I was looking for the gun pretty much from her first scene.

Thank you, though, for putting Lucy Lawless and Bruce Campbell back together again. The fake emotional stuff between Evelyn and Michael made me, for the first time, understand exactly how this show could be on the USA Network, but the healthy dose of scary scary hitwoman made me remember why I love it so.

Your fan,
Nicole

Whatever, Mo

I wish that Maureen Dowd was a dude, so that I could kick her in the junk. She’s always saying stupid things, and nothing makes her happy. First she tried throughout the campaign to imply that President Obama was weak and unmanly, and now that he has the most important job on the planet, she’s calling him elitist and arrogant. If he keeps his promises to Democrats, she says that he’s ignoring Republicans. If he reaches out to Republicans, she accuses him of ignoring those who put him in power. What does she want from him? Does she understand that life does not exist only at the ends of a spectrum?

I find Maureen Dowd obnoxious, and I do not for one minute believe that that is her actual hair color.

Was that wrong? Should I not have done that?

Remember Stephen Lewis, the Murfreesboro Free Press columnist who thought it would be hilarious to rewrite the theme song to The Jeffersons with the Obamas in mind? Well, as the person who commented on my post mentioned, in addition to reworking songs and ridiculing the accents of naturalized Americans in his free time, Mr. Lewis spends his days as a principal of an elementary school. Oh goody, because he is exactly who I want overseeing the next generation! (Overseeing! See what I did there?)

It seems that, in addition to the apology published by the editor of the Free Press, Mr. Lewis emailed his own tepid apology to the parents of those children who attend his school.

Although my hobby as a columnist is not connected directly to my position as principal I should have known better than to attempt to find humor in a subject so sensitive to so many. With all of that being said, I truly apologize to those of you who were offended by my comments.

What an apology, huh? I’m guessing that the school board or whoever actually hired him told him to write that. It certainly doesn’t sound heartfelt. To me, it sounds a lot like, “I’m sorry you overly sensitive whiners can’t take a joke.” I still really cannot believe that anybody would be dumb enough to write that column, but especially somebody who works with diverse populations every day and knows about the standards to which educators are held. How could this have seemed like a good idea? It would have been a terrible thing just to forward to a few friends, so how much more boneheaded was it to submit it for publication in a newspaper? You have to wonder about some people.

For those people who were directed to this post because of its title, George said that in an episode of Seinfeld, a show I generally don’t care about at all, but which I find selectively quotable.

Stupid Internet, ruining everything

Stephen Lewis, a humor columnist at the Murfreesboro Post of Tennessee, wrote an opinion column yesterday that included a song about the Obamas move to Washington. As you may have guessed by its inclusion in this post, this song was not in the best of taste. Mr. Lewis chose to set his “Ode to President Obama” to the tune of “Movin’ On Up,” the theme song to 1970’s-era television show, The Jefferson. Wow, Stephen. That’s Klassy!

Here’s the first verse:
“Well we’re movin’ on up,
To Washington, D.C.
To a deee-luxe pimp pad,
Painted whiiiite.
Yeah we’re movin’ on up,
To the White House.
I’ll be jetting with P. Diddy cross the sky.

Let’s examine the stereotypes found just in those lines (nevermind the rest of the song): We’ve got the missing “g” in “movin,'” because when you’re a black, Harvard-educated lawyer planning at least a 4 year squat in the White House, the last thing you’re thinking about is saying your words properly. Then we’ve got “pimp pad” (I’ll excuse “deee-luxe,” as it is in the original song). Because every black man aspires to being a peddler of women. And of course, what’s the point of being famous and black if you can’t hang out with P. Diddy? Nothing says you’ve reached the zenith of the American political establishment more than hanging out with Sean Combs.

Because newspaper articles on the Internet has the opportunity to reach readers around the world, Mr. Lewis’ stupidity did not stay limited to the Volunteer State. By Monday morning, this article, which initially appeared in the Sunday edition of the Post, was making the rounds on the Internet, offending latte-drinking, arugula-eating leftists and beer-swilling, gun-toting rightists alike. By Monday afternoon, the editor of the Murfeesboro Post, Michael L. Pirtle, had issued something resembling an apology. Here’s a link to Mr. Lewis’s column, with the editor’s note of the usual passive-aggressive sort apologizing “for any offense generated” by this column.

Elizabeth Dole, WTF?

Apparently being decent in a close race is just too much to ask of North Carolina Senator Elizabeth Dole. Instead of bearing down and fighting for her seat on her own merits, she has resorted to making specious and laughably untrue attacks on her opponent, Kay Hagan, based on religion. Dole’s new ad claims that Hagen is “godless,” which 1) what’s wrong with that and 2) is easily disproved. The claim might carry more weight were Hagan not a regular churchgoer who also happened to be a former Sunday school teacher. Shame on you, Ms. Dole! I really admired you before this. Campbell Brown, though, doesn’t let her get away with it. Go Campbell!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMzX_EAfwyc]