Sunday, November 8, 2009

A muted Sunday with Skeletons in its Closet

It's Sunday in Drexel Hill and oddly quiet in my neighborhood.  A gorgeous autumn day here - the foliage at its technicolor peak.  This is probably my favorite time of the year, and yet it doesn't feel that way this go round. Things are muted somehow, less sharply in focus.

Meanwhile, even as fall has only really just swung into full tumble, the Holiday season has already kicked into high gear on my TV and Web Browser.  Both mediums are rife with sticky sweet holiday cheer.  Ba Humbug.

But thank god for Discovery Health, my "go-to" network.  They have a Sunday marathon of Skeleton Stories.  Not sure what this has to do with "health" (I guess it's the forensics angle, much like Dr. G).  Still, fascinating stories.  Fuck football, skeletons rule this Sunday.  Nothing cheers ya up like an afternoon of skeletons, I always say.  Well, I don't always say that, but perhaps I should.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, the house managed to (just barely) pass a watered-down health care bill last night that might provide perhaps just a little bit of good but just as likely won't do much at all.  Except, that is, to give its opponents some "see, told ya" ammunition. 

It gets so I just can't stand the Democratic leadership in congress.  They're a bunch of lily livered, mealy mouthed jack asses. Politicians in the worst sense of the term.  And I'm one of the few left in this country that happens to think "Politician" can be a noble profession.  But I'd love to have residency in Pelosi's 8th Congressional District in CA, just so I could run her out of office.  We need people in there with a spine.  Also, people who are not yet embalmed.  Nancy misses the mark in both categories. 

If the right is going to demonize any healthcare legislation passed, let's get something through that might have a shot at doing some good, rather than a weighty sprawl of diluted compromises.  The #!*? compromises are made for the people who nevertheless still railed against the thing.  Fear and loathing, indeed.

Alright, alright.  Enough soapbox stuff.

And enough stuff, altogether.  Time to sign off for now.  Until next time ...