Friday, March 30, 2012

The Killing Fields

We are enjoying an unusually early spring here in Minnesota. Everyone is itching to get out and start their gardens. Except me. I am a terrible gardener. Things die, what can I say. Call me Black Thumb.

But even I was eager to get started early this year, so yesterday I went out and bought me a big ol' jug of Roundup. I remember thinking only a week ago how nice it was that the crocuses were planning an early showing, but those crocuses have nothing on the weeds. My front "lawn" is verdant with them. Including that really rotten one that's impossible to get rid of-- the name escapes me but believe me dandelions are better behaved.

I spent a happily destructive hour spraying the weeds in my retaining wall and in between the cracks in the sidewalk. Then I turned to the weeds that were already choking the irises. At some point I ran ot of Roundup and had to use the rest of last year's Weed Be Gone.

It felt wonderful, laying waste to most of my yard. I can't wait to see the whole palce wither and die. And this time, I can say it was all by design.

Yeah. Power is good.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Earl Scruggs, RIP

Y'all know the tune. Thanks to the greatest banjo man.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Healthy Eating Update

America, I hereby declare you free of the scourge of the Turkey Burger.

We've all been there. You want a burger. A fat, juicy, beefy burger with fries on the side and a lot of ketchup. Maybe a draft beer, in a frosted glass. Yeah....

So you call a friend or two, tell them to meet you at Joe's, jump into your car and head for your fix. But something happens along the way. The little voice of conscience and waistband says, "Don't do it, Desperate. Don't eat the enemy. Have something healthy instead. How about a turkey burger? Not really what you had in mind but you can pretend. Yes. Order the turkey burger. And forget the Stella, make that a Diet Coke."

And you cave. You abandon your dreams. No Cheeseburger in Paradise for you. Just a turkey burger in the loser's column.

Last summer I thought I'd found the solution. There is one place I've been to that sells a -- brace yourself- turkey burger that is actually delicious. I know, I know. I thought it was a hoax too. But the waitress assured me, nothing but turkey here. Real burger deliciousness in a healthy, waist0conscious package. Woo hoo!

Well. All dreams must end, I suppose.

The other night we were once again at this eatery that I thought was going to save me ten pounds this summer. But we- the spouse and I- made the mistake of chatting with the waitress before we ordered, and the subject of the turkey burger came up.

"Yes, isn't it fabulous?" she gushed. "We sell a lot of those."

But what makes them so fabulous, we asked?

She glanced around. "It's all turkey," she whispered. "We grind the meat ourselves. But--"

We held our breath.

"-- we add the skin of the bird to the meat. It makes it so juicy!"

So there you have it: the secret to "healthy" food is it only tastes great if it's actually sickeningly unhealthy.

As I said. You are now free to roam around the menu. And have the Stella. I hear people who drink diet soda are as fat as the rest of us.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Malia Obama in Mexico

I just came across this story. It seems the First Daughter-- along with 12 of her closest friends-- has gone to spend spring break in Mexico. (She is 13, by the way. I guess that's too young for Fort Lauderdale, but the right age for Mexico.)

This is in the midst of a ton of warnings that Mexico is a dangerous place to be if you're an American.

I have to tell you, it's really not important to me where the kid spends her break. But what is important is that if you're going to go to a place as dangerous as Mexico, you need adequate protection.

Which in this case means 25- TWENTY FIVE- U.S. Secret Service agents guarding the girls.

And me? I'm happy to foot the bill. After all I'm only a taxpayer. But that girl's an Obama!

p.s.-- Psst! Malia. You think any of your prep school pals can score me some nice pottery? I'll be waiting.

Monday, March 19, 2012

St Patrick's Day

Wha...? No. Monday already?

Geez, it must have been a great St Patrick's Day.

So--happy St Joseph's Day, everybody! Eat cannolis whenever possible.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Planned Parenthood: Totally Educational!

Via The jawa Report. See the link for the mugshot!

The president and CEO of the Planned Parenthood abortion business in Lubbock, Texas was arrested yesterday for indecent exposure at a local baseball field where children play.

As KCBD reports, “According to Lubbock Police, Tony Ray Thornton, 56, was arrested at the baseball fields inside of Mackenzie Park. According to the incident report, Thornton was taken into custody at 3:25 Monday afternoon. He was booked into the Lubbock County Detention Center and released from jail Tuesday morning around 11 a.m.”

The news station reports that Thornton has worked with the abortion business for several years and the Lubbock Planned Parenthood has had its share of problems.

Previously, the Planned Parenthood facility in Lubbock, Texas threw away medical records in a trash bin outside the building.

Wednesday, March 07, 2012

The Fluke Family's Finest Hour

Last week Georgetown University Law student Sandra Fluke told members of Congress about the terrible burden of being forced to pay for her own contraception. Several media outlest reported that, a day later, President Obama called Ms. Fluke and said, "Your parents must be proud of you."

Desperate Irish Housewife caught up with Ma and Pa Fluke earlier today. They were happy to talk about their now celebrity-status offspring.

"Of course we've always been proud of our Sandra. She's a sweet, clever girl." Mrs. Fluke, obviously emotional, smiled bravely. "But when she testified before that subcommittee or whatever it was, well, I've never been more proud of my daughter, never."

"Me neither." Mr. Fluke could not contain himself. The man was beaming, the very picture of the proud papa. "Three thousand dollars for contraception? Do you realize how many, er, dates my little girl must get? I'd say she's got them lining up around the block!"

"Now, dear, don't be boastful." Mrs. Fluke gave our reporter a modest smile. "But after all, she is her mother's daughter."

"She's daddy's little girl!" Mr Fluke pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket. "I knew she'd inherited my brains, but my gift for seduction too? I used to see some action like nobody's business, I can tell you. Ah, the good old days! But now I see I've passed on the torch to the next generation. I'm telling you, my cup runneth over. What a daughter!"

Desperate observed Sandra had apparently inherited her mother's good looks as well.

Mrs Fluke blushed. "Now that, I have to admit I am just a teensy bit proud of. My daughter is 30 years old and she can still convince the media she's a 23-year-old coed. And I haven't even treated her to an eyelid lift yet! Imagine what she'll look like when she's my age!"

And Mrs. Fluke's age is....

"39," she snapped. "I had Sandra when I was 16. 16 plus 23, that's 39, buster."

But I thought she got her Bachelor's degree in 2003. At least that's what Wikipedia says.

"Correct. She was a very precocious child. She finished college when she was just a slip of a girl. Barely fourteen."

"Oh, was she ever precocious," Papa Fluke broke in. "Why, she was dating when she was ten. She learned fast, boy. Mother, do you remember the night she came home at 3 am and asked if we had any--"

"Oh, now, let's not bore our guest with every little story," Mrs Fluke hastened to interrupt her husband. "Besides, that's the past. We are looking forward to a bright future for our daughter! She's already been on 'The View,' you know. Can 'Ellen' be far behind?"

"And that's just chat shows," Mr Fluke said. "She's getting offers from Eliot Spitzer! That's hard news."

Um...wasn't Spitzer's show cancelled?

The Flukes looked surprised. "There must be some mistake. Sandra says she got an offer from the man. The show must be back on the air."

Um... Well. Best of luck to you both. And your daughter.

"Our daughter is the luckiest girl in the world," Mrs. Fluke beamed.

Mr Fluke could not agree more. "And she just keeps on getting lucky, every day."

Tuesday, March 06, 2012


Today is Super Tuesday, and in honor of the day Desperate had decided to have the super-est Tuesday possible.

The challenge, of course, is obvious. Tuesday? Not Friday or even Wednesday? How the heck do you turn the second day of the week into the stuff of super-ness?

The second day of the week, mind you. Lacking even the negative cachet of Monday. Ever hear any songs about "Tuesday, Tuesday" or "Welcome to the [second day of] the Working Week?" No? Me neither.

And ask yourself, who is a bigger part of American culture, Tuesday Weld or Wednesday Adams? Again, the answer is obvious.

So why is the Tuesday Super? Well, as you know, it's all the primaries. Ohio, baby! Glad for the attention at any time. Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin' down the plains in the form of tornadoes and robocalls. Vermont, home of tens of thousands of cows and the saying "hard cheese on New Hampshire." Massachusetts, where yours truly once resided. Virginia, another old stomping ground. And a host of other states including one or two where she wouldn't be caught dead.

There are over four hundred delegates up for grabs today. Four hundred. Is that super enough for you?

Only if they're running Athens, I hear you snicker. You classicists. You're so zany sometimes.

Well, okay, so on the surface of it none of this sounds very super. But that's democracy for you. We have to make the best of what we've got. Even if it's not the most exciting field in the world.

But once again, that's democracy for you. You want excitement? Go to Athens and try out your "400" jokes. I hear all those desperate protesters have a wonderful sense of humor.

Thursday, March 01, 2012

Andrew Breibart, RIP

This is awful news. For all of us.

From today's breitbart,com:

Andrew passed away unexpectedly from natural causes shortly after midnight this morning in Los Angeles.

We have lost a husband, a father, a son, a brother, a dear friend, a patriot and a happy warrior.

Andrew lived boldly, so that we more timid souls would dare to live freely and fully, and fight for the fragile liberty he showed us how to love.

Andrew recently wrote a new conclusion to his book, Righteous Indignation:

I love my job. I love fighting for what I believe in. I love having fun while doing it. I love reporting stories that the Complex refuses to report. I love fighting back, I love finding allies, and—famously—I enjoy making enemies.

Three years ago, I was mostly a behind-the-scenes guy who linked to stuff on a very popular website. I always wondered what it would be like to enter the public realm to fight for what I believe in. I’ve lost friends, perhaps dozens. But I’ve gained hundreds, thousands—who knows?—of allies. At the end of the day, I can look at myself in the mirror, and I sleep very well at night.

Andrew is at rest, yet the happy warrior lives on, in each of us.