| Current mood: |  depressed |
| Current music: | Morning Report With Mark & Steve, WOC AM 1420 |
It's Friday, You Bastards
Just like you, I'm still hoping that the Mayans are right and the world will end this year but what if they're wrong? What if we wake up on December 22 only to find out that we've been punked by those Godless Indian heathens? Are we still doomed, not to whatever comes next but to continue living here where our quality of life is eroding faster than the polar ice caps? Forever?
Well, that is one way to look at it but unlike you, Mr. or Ms Negative, I choose to ignore the equally huge flood of contradicting data and concentrate on filling up this half empty dirty broken glass with the positive upbeat signs that this nightmare can end without the world doing the same.
Signs like this: http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/08/31/13584353-judge-strikes-down-nyc-law-meant-to-keep-x-rated-shops-away-from-schools?lite. Oh, don't worry if you think this is going to endanger children because Mayor Bloomberg has got it covered. He's going to ram a law through the city council that prohibits vibrators, dildos, and anal sex toys of more than 64 inches long and/or 8 inches in diameter. Thereby proving yet again that with Mike, "Kids come first," is more than just a clever, catchy motto.
Then there's this big election coming up in November and I'm as nervous about that as everyone else that the vulture capitalists will win but there's even hope there in the form of this: http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/08/30/13571150-federal-court-rejects-texas-voter-id-law?lite. And if this sort of thing catches on in Ohio, Michigan, Pennsylvania and Florida, 2013 won't be nearly as bad it could have been.
And even if the worst happens and we have to get used to hearing the words President and Romney used together until 2020, it won't be all that bad because we'll all be too busy being unemployed and trying to figure out how to get food, shelter and clothing with no safety net to worry about it. And we'll have fond memories of this from the good old days when we could still afford the Internet: GOP Clown College http://www.flickr.com/photos/30835791@N07/sets/72157614241935013.
And if you're a junior underclassman member of the GOP Clown College, how do you feel about getting beat by Here Comes Honey Boo Boo (http://theclicker.today.com/_news/2012/08/30/13575475-honey-boo-boo-ratings-top-republican-national-convention?lite)? I know you're flighty, delusional and prone to believe anything old rich white guys tell you as long as they're racist but don't you think that getting clobbered by Honey Boo Boo just might be your imaginary friend who lives in the sky and grants wishes trying to tell you yet again to vote for Barack or else?
From my perspective, it's great. In just the last couple of weeks alone there was the Legitimate Rape thing and then the whole convention came close to being wiped out by a hurricane and now more people are concerned with what Honey Boo Boo is doing than what Mitt and Paul have to say. This whole election cycle has been a perfect storm of self-writing punchlines.
The best part is that if you're a Republican, win, lose or draw in November, you've been thoroughly humiliated and that is forever. And if I weren't so compassionate and sensitive to your suffering, I would gleefully point it out. Instead, I'm going to do my best to dull your pain with this, the Theme Drink that Fifi, my Sommelier, invented for tonight:
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Closed Clown Casket
Ingredients:
1 oz Jägermeister
1 oz Bacardi 151 proof rum
1/4 oz Firewater
1/4 oz Rumple Minze
Mixing instructions:
Pour 151 last and light.
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Fifi asked me to tell you that this one isn't just a tasty metaphor for the GOP going down in flames, it's also an object lesson in what can happen when someone old like you carelessly leaves your iPod laying around where an impressionable kid like her can pick it up because it was co-inspired by Bob Dylan's On A Night Like This.
She swears that Bob must have been remote viewing the Republicans this year when he wrote, in 1974, "On a night like this, I can't get any sleep, The air is so cold outside, And the snow's so deep, Build a fire, throw on the logs, And listen to it hiss, And let it burn burn burn burn, On a night like this."
She may be right about the remote viewing but as usual, she's missing the bigger point and just as usual, I have to explain to her that the much more important lines are, "Run your fingers down my spine, Bring me a touch of bliss, It sure feels right, On a night like this."
Why do I always have to do all the hard work? Especially on a night like this.
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