Friday, October 31, 2008
Last year I got quite a few. The year before that I got three, I think. The weather's great this year, maybe that will make a difference. And of course I have my McCain/Palin sign up-- will that scare children off? Attract youthful offenders? We shall see.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Well, I feel their pain. I've been captured on tape a few times myself, mostly at weddings. Usually a couple of hours into the reception. It's not a pretty picture. Somewhere out there there is photographic evidence of DIH doing her best Pee Wee Herman impression after a couple of toasts. Not pretty, people, not pretty at all.
As a matter of fact I'm sitting on some pretty, let's say, "interesting" video right now. We gave a Halloween party the other night. All the adults came in costume and the cheap wine was flowing freely. You think I couldn't put together a little expose? Think again.
No, I won't be posting any pics, unless someone makes it worth my while. But then again I'm not a major American newspaper whose reputation depends on the free distribution of information to a public who have the right to know everything about their candidates.
You have to wonder what the L.A. Times is hiding. What, did somebody have a terrible haircut? Maybe they turned on the karaoke machine? Did Barack get weepy, or just sloppy drunk? Did the party involve a bong, or jello shots, or Naked Twister?
The people have a right to know.
Contact the L.A. Times at
and demand that they release the video. Unedited.
DIH will feel so much better about that Pee Wee Herman thing if they do.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
"Q. Why do wild animals sometimes attack people?- Brad W. New York
"A. The truth is animals hardly ever attack people. When they do, it's for all sorts of reasons... But it's most often by mistake."
Monday, October 27, 2008
What? you say.
NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. Wherein insane writer types get to take the big challenge: turn out 50,000 words in 30 days. If you go to their website (www.nanowrimo.org) you can read all about it. This is NaNoWriMo's tenth year, so they should be getting tons of participants.
Anyway. You take a blood pledge that between November 1 and November 30 you will write-- well, not your Great American Novel; more like your Not So Bad American Novel. Or your At Least I've Got A First Draft American novel. 50,000 words of it.
This is a daunting challenge. It will require new highs of self-discipline and new lows of housekeeping and personal hygiene standards. I'm ready for those last two challenges. As for the first, we'll see, I guess.
So those are my November plans. Wish me luck. I need all I can get.
I am writing this on the spouse's computer. For some reason mine won't allow me to go online. It's been a problem for a few days now. So I had no chance to complain about the snow showers we were treated to yesterday. Really I can't keep up with the change of seasons around here. Every time I look out the window I would swear it was Thanksgiving. But it's not even All Saints' Day yet.
All Saints' Day presents its usual challenges. Like how to dres your kid up like a saint without actually making her look like a walking tablecloth. I found this great website that sells pretty decent saints costumes- for 67 bucks your kid can look like MOther Teresa minus the wrinkles- but 67 bucks struck me as a little steep, and my daughter would probably change her mind at the last minute anyway and decide she'd really rather go as a Kateri Tekakwitha/Pocahontas hybrid. So it looks like another walking tablecloth year.
Uh-oh, spouse emerges from shower. Gotta go.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Bring teacup to table. Fire up laptop. Set teacup down.
Miss table. Spill tea all over carpet.
Later decide coffee might be safer. Discover the bag of Dunkin Donuts medium roast from Costco is empty.
Root around in cupboard and find the last of the Kona beans from Hawaii trip. Then discover the coffee grinder is nowhere to be found. Currently considering sucking on the beans.
Something tells me it's going to be a long day.
Monday, October 20, 2008
John Cleese gave Obama $2,300. And him not even a Yank.
I always said the guy was a riot.
Sarah Palin was invited to meet with the Pope while both were vacationing in Venice. The press reluctantly watched the semi-private audience, hoping they will be able to allot minimal coverage.
The Pope asks Governor Palin to join him on a Gondola ride through the canals of Venice.
They're admiring the sights and agreeing on moral issues when, all of a sudden, the Pope's hat blows off his head and out into the water.
The gondolier starts to reach for the Pontiff's hat with his pole, but this move threatens to overturn the boat.
Sarah waves the tour guide off, saying, 'Wait, wait. I'll take care of this. Don't worry.'
She steps off the gondola onto the surface of the water and walks out to the Pope's hat and picks it up. She walks back across the water to the gondola and steps aboard.
She hands the hat to the Pope amid stunned silence.
The next morning the topic of conversation among Democrats in Congress, CBS News, NBC News, ABC News, PBS, CNN, the New York Times, MSNBC, Hollywood celebrities, and most of the people in France and Germany is:
'Palin Can't Swim.'
Sunday, October 19, 2008
We ordered ours at the farmer's market a couple of weeks ago. "How long will it take?" I asked.
"Well, let's see," said the Buffalo Lady. "Today's Saturday, we butcher on Tuesdays, then the inspector comes on Thursday..." Actually she gave me quite a few details I could have lived without. I shall endeavor to put them out of mind.
I am very excited about my buffalo. I've never had a significant portion of an animal in my freezer before. It makes me feel like I'm living on the frontier, only with electricity and all that stuff. Which makes mine a much nicer frontier than the one Laura Ingalls Wilder lived on.
All of this means we will be eating a lot more red meat this winter than we did last year. I think of last winter as The Winter of the Frozen Salmon Fillets. I think we went a little overboard on them. Wanted to swim upstream after a while.
I am planning to make buffalo vegetable soup, buffalo stew, buffalo pot roast and buffalo sirloin steaks. I will probably lie to visitors and tell them they're eating beef at first. You never know how people will react to the "buffalo" part. My sister always reacts by bursting into song ("Oh give me a home...") I notice she never sings about free-range chicken.
So... anybody know any good buffalo recipes?
I've been to wine tastings before. They're a lot of fun. You start out all classy and serious with your list of wines. You sniff. You sip. You make intelligent comments on the first selection. ("Fine start, slightly bitter finish.") Then on the second selection. On the third your comments tend to get a bit whimsical. ("Good to have on hand, especially if the in-laws come to dinner. Ha ha.") Fourth time around they serve an expensive Italian red. ("Who the hell needs a seventeen dollar pizza wine? Gimme a seven-dollar magnum of Frontera per favore.") Desserts and bubblies. ("I looooove this one! 'Specially wit' cheesecake. I loooooove cheesecake! They got any more cheesecake?")
The best part, it being a fundraiser for a good cause and all, is you don't feel too guilty about ordering a case of something. Which we did. I can't remember which wine we ordered, but I'm sure we'll enjoy it.
By my count that leaves only me and one other house with an intact McCain sign in the 'hood.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Jimmy Carter, you will recall, was a Democrat president with a Democrat congress. Yet he never managed topush a single piece of his legislation through. People really didn't like him, I guess. Not even his own party. And remember double-digit inflation? What fun that was!
Yeah, I remember inflation. The real thing, not some namby-pamby "they raised the price of gas this week" stuff.
So as I contemplate the next four years, I'm throwing a little farewell party.
"Things DIH Will Miss Once the Government Inflate the Hell Out of the Currency and Everything Costs Five Times What It Used To"
-The smug feeling of superiority whenever I buy anything organic. Hello, pesticides, Desperate is back!
-The scent of the fancy-schmancy hand soap in my dojang's ladies' room. It's pretty, too-- clear salmon pink in these cute little teardrop-shaped dispensers. Yeah, that soap meant a lot to me. (Especially since my last dojang barely had indoor plumbing. I am not kidding.) It'll be back to industrial-strength supermarket stuff, I guess.
-The blithe way I used to add detergent to the washer. It sounds scandalous now, but I admit it-- I never measured. I guess I'll be measuring now, though.
-Might even start watering it down. Sigh. The high-rolling days are coming to an end...
-Full gas tanks
-Dry cleaning. Not that I ever get it now, being far too cheap. But still. It was nicce to know it was there if I needed it.
Please feel free to add to the list. And remember, four years of Carter got us Ronald Reagan in the end.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Saturday, October 11, 2008
He admits this will surprise many readers. After all, Obama is a big-government liberal and Buckley is "a small-government conservative who clings tenaciously and old-fashionedly to the idea that one ought to have balanced budgets."
Buckely's stand on the most glaring social issues of today is different: "On abortion, gay marriage, et al, I’m libertarian." This is the live-and-let-live school of social thought; the one that says "if it's what you really feel and it doesn't involve taxing me any more, go ahead and do it, really who gives a hoot."
I don't think anyone could seriously call Obama a libertarian on the issue of abortion. Come on, the guy's a freaking cheerleader for abortion. Who else opposed the born-alive protection act with such fervor? For once we were all glad the feds stepped in and called the shots there.
But the issue of libertarianism and abortion must be confronted. So the ever-helpful DIH decided to conduct a spot of research.
So I called Pregnant Friend. "Hello," I said. "I'd like to speak to the fetus, please."
"You mean the baby?" I could hear her jiggling her belly. "Hey. Hey, kid. Wake up. Telephone."
"Oh, lord, not another one," said a tiny voice. "I hate election season. Yes? Can I help you?"
"Sorry to bother you, fetus. But I need your input on this. How do you feel about abortion on demand? I mean, what's your gut on this?"
There was a soft sigh. "Let me guess. You've been talking to the libertarians."
"How did you know?"
"Because only a libertarian would ask me such a stupid question. Sorry. I just get so tired of this nonsense. As I understand the libertarian philosophy- I'm simplifying here. of course- they believe in a kind of laissez-faire attitude towards social issues. Let things thrive or fail on their own strengths. Well, as a matter of fact, I agree. And I would deeply appreciate the right to be left to thrive or fail on my own, without the influence of some (you should pardon the expression) half-assed social theorist butting in."
"But what about choice?"
"Choice, my dear Desperate, is a word one uses to describe a side of beef. Am I here by my own choice? Of course not. The 'choice,' if you want to know that truth, that brought about my existence was probably made when my father decided a bottle of Moet-Chandon would be a nice surprise for Mother last Valentine's Day. But that's another story."
"Okay, but... what about ...you know..."
"I was searching for a nicer term."
"Let me know when you find it. Personally I've never heard of anyone without a truckload of defects. I can only wonder if the younger Mr. Buckley has taken a good look in the mirror lately. Enough said."
"So, you're saying the libertarians are wrong."
"Not at all. I'm just saying they should follow their own philosophy. They don't have to have anything to do with me at all. In fact I'd prefer it that way. Put Mother back on, would you? And switch me to Line 2."
Pregnant Friend took the phone. "Yes. Yes, all right. Go back to sleep." She switched back to me.
"What did he- uh, she-- uh, what did the little person say?
"No more pollsters. He says they're-- well-- dense."
"His very word." She sighed. "And no more pesto sauce. 'Take a break and try Bolognese,' he said."
"Demanding little guy."
"He promises he'll make it all worth my while."
"You believe him?"
Friday, October 10, 2008
And why shouldn't they be wild and crazy? They're a bunch of lawless nuts. Just ask the five hundred squirrels living in my attic.
"It's not everyone who should take up the art of the acorn," their leader told me the other day. "You have to be wily. You have to be totally focussed- greedy, basically. And you gotta be able to dodge the bullets."
"You're good at that," I observed.
"You're damn right I am. How many rocks you thrown at me this week? And did you ever once come close to a hit?"
"Not once," I admitted.
"Partly that's because your aim is lousy. But also I'm fast. You'd have to throw your next rock ten minutes before I showed up to make a hit. They don't call me the Scamper Master for nothing."
"I thought they called you 'Scam.'"
"That's just a nickname."
"But seriously, acorns are not for the faint of heart. You gotta get out there and pick up the goodies. Sure, Mother Nature promises they'll just fall from the trees. The Lord will provide, yadda yadda. And that's fine, if you're the naive type. But I learned a long time ago if you want the really choice nuts you gotta go out there and grab them. Rip 'em off the trees. Get high and go wild, that's my motto."
"People have the wrong idea about how we gather acorns. I saw some of that cartoon you were watching on the internet the other day, and--"
"Oh- uh, that was a nature show."
"Right. With Bullwinkle the Moose. Anyway you humans seem to have the idea that we squirrels all get together in one big happy family and gather nuts for all to share during the long winter months. La la la, we share and share, we're cute and furry and we're all about love. Bull. Look, basically this is the deal with acorns. Two words: get yours. Get yours, stash 'em away in your private account, and screw the other guy."
"That sounds familiar too," I said.
"Of course you don't want to broadcast any of that. You gotta keep the suckers- uh, community thinking you're all about them. Climbing up those oak trees, hanging on by your sharp little nails to grab all the nuts you can- you're doing it all for the common good."
"You see that guy Obama, you tell him I could use a man like him. I'm always on the lookout for talent."
Monday, October 06, 2008
It's a nasty one, all right. Itchy throat. Itchy ears. Nose rubbed raw by the second day. A lot of tissue usage.
But while the symptoms themselves are unpleasant, a cold like this one has its uses.
For example, it's a handy way to dodge the "Sign of Peace." Celebrant intones "Let us offer each other a sign of peace," annoying hand-shaking commences, but all Desperate has to do is sniffle and touch a finger to her schnoz. How about a piece of this, buddy? No thanks, the peaceniks wimp out. Ha ha on them.
It's a good excuse to take a long, hot shower in the morning. "I need to clear my sinuses!" Usually the morning shower is the domain of the spouse. But now he sort of feels he has to share.
[Actually there are no hot showers for anyone this morning, as there is no hot water. Long story. Thankfully the plumber is on his way.]
Of course one has to watch the dehydration-- especially DIH who has a nasty record on that subject- so coffee and Coke Zero are out for the time being. I look forward to a long day of sipping hot ginger tea. By tonight I'll be ready to hang on a Christmas tree.