Product Placement

I know it doesn't look like much, but I'm telling you, this thing is bar none the best dog toy ever:



Six months later and the tail is still attached, the eyes are in place and the stuffing remains firmly ensconced within the appropriate furry cavities.

If only my dubiously kidnapped Valentine's Day bear had fared as well.

Blimey!

Both Britain's and America's first children have made the news in rather dramatic fashion lately. Prince Harry has been deployed as a soldier to the front lines in Afghanistan to fight the Taliban, and is being hailed by his fellow statesmen as Harry the Hero. Meanwhile, Jenna Bush had a bachelorette party weekend in Boca Raton. A spa weekend in a private home, the event is reported to have been classy and "very low-key."

I don't suppose the Mother Country would take us back, would they?

Sleeping with the Fishes

You all know that Jack Abramoff is a shady character (and if you don't, you should). But seriously, this guy looks like he's about to pull a tommy gun out of a trombone case:



I think more bad guys should dress like bad guys. It would be cheaper than tattooing "malefactor" on all of their foreheads.

Feng Pshaw

McDonald's is in the process of introducing Feng Shui design principles to its restaurants in the hopes of attracting more customers.

Here's a thought. How about instead of attempting to put a pretty pink bow into the hair of a corpse and then calling it a prom queen, you start serving something other than decrepit, chemically treated and occasionally diseased flesh?

Just, you know, a suggestion. But hey — bamboo siding is also nice.

Pro Patria Mori

In a recent introduction at a Hillary Clinton rally, Tom Buffenbarger, President of the International Association of Machinists and Aerospace Workers, had the following to say about Barack Obama's supporters:

"Give me a break! I've got news for all the latte-drinking, Prius-driving, Birkenstock-wearing, trust fund babies crowding in to hear him speak! This guy won't last a round against the Republican attack machine. He's a poet, not a fighter."

Putting aside the fact that my husband possesses neither Prius nor Birkenstock and may possibly not be entirely clear on exactly what a trust fund is**, I take particular offense to the last line — "Hes a poet, not a fighter." This is not because I am a great lover of poetry (in fact, I prefer a good commie joke), but rather because the mascot of my alma mater is The Poet.

There are better reasons to find Buffenbarger's assertion offensive, though, not the least of which is the fact that "poet" and "fighter" are hardly mutually exclusive terms. As Exhibit A, I offer World War One soldier and honorary latte-drinker Wilfred Owen, a.k.a. the guy who wrote one of the handful of poems in the world that I truly love. I suspect Mr. Tom "I Build Weapons for Other People to Use" Buffenbarger would find it edifying:

"Dulce Et Decorum Est"

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

** Disclaimer: Yes, my husband knows what a trust fund is. I think he's trying to set one up for the dog.

Michael and Me

Michael "Sicko" Moore weighed in on current healthcare proposals in an interesting article in The Hill today. In the interview he echoed something I've been feeling for a while — that what Obama and Clinton are calling "universal health care" is no such thing. Rather, it's universal health insurance, a wholly different animal.

The insurance companies seem to agree with Moore too, if their campaign donations are anything to go by.

As near as I can tell, what many are criticizing as "socialized medicine" would more aptly be described as corporatized medicine.

Dance Dance Revolution

Okay, so I know that just posting a bunch of embedded videos is kind of lazy blogging, but I think President Bush is actually doing an African fertility dance here:



If only he had spent the past seven years embarrassing us with his garish gyrating rather than embarrassing us by invading places like Iraq and Canada. Okay, so hasn't actually invaded Canada yet, but you know he's going to. I mean, he's got another 10 months.

And hey, didn't Pakistan just have an election? Didn't we just shoot poisonous space junk out of the atmosphere? And didn't some dictator just resign or something?

Whatevs. Keep dancing, Pinocchio.

Turnabout is Fair Play

A few weeks ago I posted about the fan-made Obama video produced by will.i.am of The Black Eyed Peas. I now feel honor-bound to post a parallel fan-made video produced by Clinton's campaign (props to my brother for shooting it my way), and so I bring you...



Hillary 4 U and Me!

Two parts Up with People, one part cringe — I've got to say I almost feel bad for mocking it.

But not that bad. I mean, once you've penned a line like "the world is getting hot, but our global warming plan is not" you may as well start putting the "kick me" sticky notes on your own back.

Pretty Maggie Moneyeyes

When I was small my father began to feed me a steady diet of science fiction — Asimov, Heinlein, Tolkein, Le Guin. I read the greats (and great I found them). But the book that unquestionably struck me most on a visceral level, on an intellectual level, on a "bring it to your creative writing class on share-an-author day" level, was Harlan Ellison's collection of short stories, I Have No Mouth But I Must Scream. The name alone is the stuff that most writers would sacrifice a limb to have invented, but the short story by the same name is one of the most wretchedly fantastic dystopian tales I have ever read. That story made me feel like my brain had been transformed into violin strings upon which something angry and Bach-ish was being furiously bowed.

So, you know, I know he's kind of an ass (he was expelled from Ohio State for allegedly hitting a professor who criticized his writing; he has sent said professor a copy of every story he's published for the past 40 years), but I can't help but harbor a soft spot for Harlan Ellison.

This is why I found his essay criticizing the WGA (of which he is a longtime member) writers' contract so utterly delightful. Highlights include, "My gorge has become buoyant," and "While this nutty festschrift of demented pleasure at being allowed to go back to work in the rice paddy is filling your cowardly hearts with joy and relief that the grips and the staff at the Ivy and street sweepers won't be saying nasty shit behind your back, remember this: You are their bitches."

Of Which We Spare Ourselves the Sight

One of the myriad benefits of being a vegetarian is that when stories like this hit the stands, I don't have to immediately chuck the contents of my freezer out the window.

According to the L.A. Times, "An undercover video showing crippled and sick animals being shoved with forklifts has led to the largest beef recall in the United States and a scramble to find out if any of the meat is still destined for school children's lunches." Prompted by animal rights activists, 143 million pounds of beef have been recalled. Undercover video has shown cows at the Westland/Hallmark been company being electrocuted, kicked, run over with forklifts and even waterboarded.

It gets better — apparently roughly one quarter of the recalled meat has quite likely already been consumed by school children.

I have always found the following words of the late Nobel Prize recipient Albert Schweitzer** to be inspiring, and I think they are deeply appropriate now — "Think occasionally the suffering of which you spare yourself the sight." Honoring that spirit, I think it not unreasonable to suggest that those who consume animals ought to occasionally make themselves privy to the unhappy circumstances from whence their Happy Meals spring:



Here's a direct link.

In the event that you find yourself suddenly desirous of a little break from omnivorism, I recommend checking out burgeoning veggie blog The Mean Bean. Me, I seem to have momentarily misplaced my appetite.

**And now your Moment of Zen: Albert Schweitzer, a devout vegetarian, was a great cat lover. If his cat happened to fall asleep on his left arm (with which we wrote), we would write with his right hand rather than disturb the slumbering feline.

Easy Like Making Fun of Mel Gibson

Today I watched an interview with Mel Gibson in which he attempted to persuade the public that he is not anti-Semitic.

It was funny.

Fido Forever

I'm not anti-science. I like not dying of strep throat just as much as the next guy. I'm okay with sacrificing a stem cell or three if it means there might be another Back to the Future movie.

But cloning dogs? I think I've read one too many a Harlan Ellison story for this to sit quite right. Loathe though I am to even consider the thought of my beloved Charlotte ceasing to be, the notion of replacing her with... her makes me feel a shuddery kind of nauseous.

Faster than a Speeding Economic Relief Package

When I hear superdelegate I think of Nancy Pelosi in red tights. Then I think of Bill Richardson in red tights. Then I think of Bill Clinton, also in red tights, calling each of the superdelegates one by one after having a hearty go a carafe chock full of something expensive and bourbon-ish.

Coincidentally, Huffington Post's Andy Borowitz has transcribed how the subsequent conversation might sound.

Star Wars

This just in: Spy satellite loaded with toxic fuel rushes towards Earth; likely to land in North America! U.S. President orders military to shoot plummeting satellite down from the sky before impact; warns other nations in attempt to avert accidental war!

This would make for a great Bruce Willis film. Just one problem — it's actually happening.

Beagles!

While I have major issues with dog breeding (insofar as I find it detrimental to the health and well being of dogs), I confess there's something damn adorable about the pups in the Westminster dog show. While I assert that the world's most famous beagle, Snoopy, can't hold a candle to my two mixed-up mutts, I have to admit that this year's winning pooch, Uno the beagle, racks up some major cute points.

According to his handler, "He's a people's dog, a merry little hound." A merry little hound! I may actually be dying from preciousitis.



See?

A brief aside — on his road to victory Uno apparently beat out not one but two favored-to-win poodles. Having met several poodles, I can't say I'm surprised.

The Show Must Go (Back) On

Now that the writers strike is all but over (with some pretty solid gains for the creative community in new media!), I've been taking stock of which of my drugs shows will actually be coming back this year.

The good news for me is that Lost, Supernatural and The Office will all be back this season (albeit with somewhat truncated orders). The bad news is that Chuck and Heroes probably won't be returning until the late summer or early fall.

Curious about your shows? (You people have shows, right? Right?) Go here to ascertain their fates.

Oh, and I guess that award whatever thing is still happening. Who wants to put money on Chloe Sevigny showing up dressed in a gigantic woolen neon pink body sock?

Five Reasons to Love Summer Glau

Summer Glau is currently playing the so-called terminatrix in the new series Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, and she is, in a word, awesome. Here is why:

1. Her character, Cameron, is basically a hotter (and female-r) version of Data from Star Trek, which Glau absolutely has the chops to bring off.

2. Her presence on my TV screen makes it marginally easier to bear the fact that Firefly is still, tragically, cancelled.

3. As a classically trained ballerina, she actually does all of her own fight scenes, including those crazy high overhead kicks.

4. She can go from bot to bad ass in 2.5 seconds. In heels.

5. And, finally, she doesn't seem to harbor any ambitions towards running my state.

An Evening in Movements

An evening at the La Jolla Symphony last night offered a fascinating cross-section of the denizens of San Diego:

Directly in front of me sat two sparsely-washed college students sporting matching yarn beanies (and matching earnest attention to the music).

Clockwise, to my right, sat a 60-something-year-old Asian man who spent the entire show beating out the melody on his shoe with his fingers.

Behind me was a woman in a business suit whose tap-tap-tapping into her cell phone keypad let up only during intermission, when she pulled out her laptop and, I don't know, traded futures or something.

And lastly, to my left, sat my husband, who spent the entire post-intermission portion of the event attempting to remove a chocolate chip cookie from its wax paper wrapping without making any noise.

Oh, and the music was pretty awesome too.

Clinton's Three R's: Reading, 'Riting and Revisionist History

Earlier this week MSNBC commentator David Shuster made the following remark regarding Chelsea Clinton's role in her mother's campaign: "Doesn't it seem as if Chelsea is sort of being pimped out in some weird sort of way?"

As one might expect, this bizarre portrait of Chelsea Clinton as some sort of superdelegate streetwalker resulted in Shuster's suspension from the network. Well and good.

Slightly more perplexing was Hillary Clinton's response to Shuster's statement: "I am accustomed to criticism, certainly from MSNBC. I know that it goes with the territory. However, I became Chelsea's mother long before I ran for any office and I will always be a mom first and a public official second."

Thing is, Chelsea is 27 years old. Now, I'm no math teacher, but I do teach history, and my study of recent history indicates that Hillary Clinton's favorite number is 35 — as in, 35 years of political experience, the fundamental rationale for her ostensible superiority as a candidate. This, I believe, is what one might call "having it both ways" — perhaps not that big of a deal, but for the fact that she's been fiercely campaigning to paint her remaining opponent as some sort of bobble-head neophyte to her wizened elder statesman.

Yet again, we are presented with a clear case of Clinton refashioning her presentation of reality to suit her current needs. Forgive me for feeling a bit nauseous.

Putting the "Aw" in Awesome

Today in Florida a team of firefighters responded to a fire, extinguished it, and then discovered two dogs who had suffered near fatal levels of smoke inhalation. They then performed CPR on both dogs, successfully reviving them.




I really love firefighters.

Another Amusing Assertion

Yesterday I posted a fabulous quote from Faux News Network CEO Roger Ailes, proving once and for all that his reporters are in fact self-proclaimed jihadists. Today I found one nearly as fabulous from Bill Clinton:

"We are very frustrated because we have a Supreme Court that seems determined to say that the wealthier have more right to free speech than the rest of us. For example, they say you couldn’t stop me from spending all the money I’ve saved over the last five years on Hillary's campaign if I wanted to, even though it would clearly violate the spirit of campaign finance reform." — Bill Clinton, December 24, 2007

Why is this funny? I mean, he's right! Well. Perhaps someone ought to remind him of that, given that Hillary Clinton revealed today that she had given 5 million dollars of the Clinton family's personal wealth to her campaign late last month.

Freudian Much?

Best. Quote. Ever.

"The candidates that can't face Fox, can't face Al Qaeda." — Roger Ailes, CEO of the Faux News Network

This gem was in reference to the Democrats' refusal to participate in a Faux News debate back in April (probably because they had recently broadcast the "story" that Obama is a militant Muslim, which he's, you know, not).

Did you see what Ailes did there? He just compared his own network to Al Qaeda! He's calling his own "reporters" as ferocious an enemy as terrorists! Seriously, this seems like something you'd find in The Onion.

Accuracy Schmaccuracy

Today I learned a fun fact from John Kerry: Thomas Jefferson was only 33 years old when he "penned those words, we hold these truths to be self evident, into the Constitution." Now, I take his point — if I've written something that quotable by the time I'm 33, I'll feel like I have a laurel or two to fluff up my pillow. But as a history teacher, I feel duty-bound to point out that Jefferson didn't so much "pen those words into the Constitution" as pen them into the Declaration of Independence.

It's okay, Senator Kerry. Bill O'Reilly made the exact same mistake just a couple of months back. The only difference is that he got called on it on his own show by an elementary school student.

This is why I get my news from the BBC**.

** And now your Moment of Zen: According to a recent study, more than half of British teens believe that Sherlock Holmes actually existed. Moreover, roughly a quarter believe that Winston Churchill was fictional.

Maybe they thought they were being asked if he was fissional? Like, with the atomic — yeah, no.

As will.i.am. Goes, So Goes the Nation?

Golly, but this is a mighty fine piece of propaganda:



Does anyone else have a strange urge to head to the lobby and purchase a large Coke and some popcorn?