The magnetic attraction of dicks and bellingham

Ahh, Bellingham, Washington. My dad was born and spent his early years there before his family moved down south to Seattle.  His stepfather was but one of a plethora of Buzzards concentrated in the vicinity, many associated with the venerable Buzzard Iron Works, an icon of sorts for a time there.  The aforementioned Robert Buzzard, Jr. was a miserable SOB by all accounts, someone who cursed us with the vulture moniker by adopting my dad after marrying his widowed mother.  I have no Buzzard blood and would otherwise have been Steve Finnegan.  Fuck wad.  (Grammar question: is fuck wad one word or two?)

Ironically,  ol' man Bob apparently acted like he resented having adopted my dad (or perhaps he was just disappointed in the mess Chuck later made of his life).  I wish he'd have gone with his instincts.  I personally remember little to nothing about the guy (we didn't visit all that often and when we did, I don't recall him there).   There's a little burb at the end of this obit page that lists several notable dead Buzzards from Bellingham, including my step-gramps (and his father).

Anyway, there was a story online today that got me thinking of Bellingham.  Some guy in a store reeked of a foul odor and when a worker there tried to tell him so in as tactful a manner as one could muster under the circumstances, the guy threw batteries at him and punched him in the face.  Somehow the story had, for me, Bellingham written all over it.

Speaking of dicks, it's simply amazing the percentage of ads (and spam) across all spectrum of media related to the core issue of erectile dysfunction (now universally known as ED; I think even young kids are taught this in school).  I feel sorry for those afflicted who also "take nitrates for chest pain," since they apparently can't avail themselves of Viagra, Cialis, et. al.  Presumably if they take nitrates for other reasons, they're golden.

Alice in Wonderland

The Tea Party movement really has me baffled. Especially when taxes have gone down for the vast majority of those who identify with the cause. It's just one perspective but I'm of a mind that there's more going on here than simple righteous indignation over Wall Street excesses and horror over the health care legislation.

It's funny that the same folks bemoaning government involvement in health care are also up in arms over the decision to have less government involvement in space exploration. It's like a bunch of 7 year old boys who can't get enough of bombs and astronauts but have no use for playing nurse (that's for "girl" countries). Christ. No wonder we've had so many presidents who either resembled, played or actually were soldiers and cowboys. We haven't elected an astronaut president yet (but we have put a few into congress). Something so basic and necessary as health care already has government involvement that we pay too much for in taxes, footing the tab for what becomes of that portion of our society that didn't and don't have health and have become a chronic long term drain on the system. Or for the people who use the emergency room as their primary care facility. We end up having to subsidize all this indirectly but no less costly. It's cheaper by far in the long run to ensure folks have preventative care in the first place. Health care is even more essential than education, to my mind (it's tough to educate someone who's sick and even tougher when they're dead). Space exploration is important, sure (and I'm as big a space nut as anyone). But in comparison our more basic needs, there's no contest. Just one bum's opinion.

"We want our country back" seems to be the battle cry. Where did it go? There isn't any more government involvement or control now than there had been over the previous eight years of the Bush administration. In fact, it can be argued that there is less involvement (at least of the more insidious variety). I always had the feeling with Bush/Cheney that if they could, they'd round up all of us who didn't share their vision of a blue-eyed gun-toting America-first Jesus due back to earth any time to strike down all those who didn't fit the mold and send us all to re-education camp until we saw the light. It seemed that so many of their decisions were made with this joyous end-game dancing in their heads.

Obama's making his share of missteps for sure, mainly I think in terms of communication and often in trying to bite off more than he can chew. But, man, I've never heard so much outrage about so little. I can see and appreciate and share in the colossal uproar about our financial institutions excesses that resulted in its collapse, a global depression, real estate crisis, and the government bailout that followed. But that happened before Obama came into office. The decision to bail them out was made by the Bush administration (though Obama agreed with and ultimately instituted it). I'd have personally let the institutions die and the chips fall where they may. Likely it would have been disastrous and probably it's good I'm not in charge. More than a few have postulated that there's a bit of "give me back my (white) country" going on here. Maybe not on a conscious level. But it's definitely there.

But enough about the sorry state of our political discord and other such mindless drivel. I wanted to talk about important things. Like television commercials.

I find commercials provide a good framework for articulating the ups and downs of life. They can also inspire hatred and love in my heart. Truly. Charles Schwab and the Chase Sapphire Visa couple bring out the vitriol in me like nothing else on this planet. I want to kill them and their families. Same with the Progressive Insurance gal. Conversely, I love the Old Spice ads and feel the same regarding the Most Interesting Man in the World.

Stay thirsty, my friends.

Fey-bulous

I figured Tiny Fey on SNL last night deserved a mention: there were actually a couple of funny moments on a show that doesn't often have them these days.  Brownie Husband might have been the best, and Fey's Palin hawking her own network was pretty great as well.

Saudi Sorcery and Middle Eastern Country Western Remembrances

So the Saudis are on the brink of sawing a guy's head off for practicing "black magic" (i.e., fortune telling). Gotta love it. Granted, "Uncle Arthur" was pretty stupid for flying to Saudi Arabia in the first place, but it turns out he's a devout Shiite Muslim and was on a Hajj pilgrimage from his home country of Lebanon when he was arrested in 2008. Apparently Crockett and Tubbs from Medina Vice recognized this master criminal from the fortune telling TV show he does back in Lebanon and nabbed his ass to protect the faithful. Guess they don't burn their witches in SA and drowning is likewise too rock and roll. No faddish post-modern Salem stuff for them - beheadings are ever classic (they never seem to go out of style). Global outrage has succeeded in one stay of execution for our intrepid warlock but it's just a matter of time before they take a little too much off the top and that ol' black magic hasn't afforded him a means of escape (they must have his nose immobilized or else he'd have twinkled himself free by now, Samantha-style, though perhaps that only works for witches). Through it all, we American's just seem to go right on loving the Saudi government. What's a little human rights violation here, the number #1 breeding ground of terrorism there, when you're sitting on the lion's share of the world's oil reserves.

I had a chance to spent several weeks in Bahrain a little over 19 years ago and had a chance to witness the surreal on a nightly basis courtesy of the country western bar attached to my hotel. The Saudi Arabian government puts alcohol on similar footing with sorcery, so many of their citizens would make the drive over the causeway into Bahrain to get hammered at this shit kicker bar, in full out middle eastern garb save for the cowboy boots sticking out from under their robes. They'd be "ye-hawing" and two stepping it on the dance floor all evening and then presumably drive blind drunk over the causeway back to the land of no-no-no. They seemed to be good guys mostly - hopefully they didn't kill themselves or somebody else (or lose their head at a DWI checkpoint). "I'm sorry, sir - have you been drinking? Yes? Could you please keep your chin up? You won't feel a thing ..." I'm not condoning drunk driving, certainly. Nor do I think much of fortune tellers - most of them are con artists and the rest simply fools, in my eyes. I don't think decapitation is the answer, though.

Personally, all this is just more affirmation of my passionate belief in non-belief. History is littered with such acts and far worse in the name of God; no religion is immune from this - certainly not those dealing in absolutes, which includes all the major ones.

So the Saudis are on my list. As are the Chase Sapphire couple who've seemingly amassed an endless supply of points having never actually used their credit card to earn them. I hope they ski off a mountain. And as always, "Chuck" Schwab. May everyone associated with these two advertising campaigns fry in their own special hell, forced to watch their insipid commercials endlessly for all eternity.

Happy Easter, Ester, Passover, Pass out, or whatever other reason you find to be happy. Just try not to be happy at the expense of another person's head ...

As Mr. Zimmerman said, "When you're lost in the rain in Juarez and it's Easter time too ..."

The Mouse That Was My Vietnam

Posting here in the past has been a compulsion, a nervous tic; however, it was real easy to step away once I got sucked back into the workaday world at a job that required a bit more of my attention, as new jobs often do. But here I am, back again.

So what's going on? Not a lot - As I write this, I'm locked in mortal combat with a mouse who's invaded my home. I'm sure this fucker'll forever be two steps ahead of me as I waste far too much energy on hunting the beast down. I feel vaguely like Wile E. Coyote (or perhaps Al Bundy would be a better analogy). Why the anger toward this Disneysque creature? I'm sure the whiskered cutie breaks out in song after hours as I slumber, after all. And frankly it's nice to have company over - I should welcome him into the fold with a saucer of milk (saucer of cheese?) Ahh, fuck all that - I've got the traps all set up, so it's just a matter of time for him and his brethren. Short of that, I'm at the ready with my fireplace shovel to slap him into space, Scratchy-style. Then again, Scratchy is the one who is repeatedly pummeled by that little Itchy rodent. Where's Willard when you need him?

(Epilogue:  The mouse is dead, long live the mouse.  I found it this morning in the kitchen, caught in the web of one of my glue traps, poisoned by the bait and stuck.  It had managed to slide the trap half way across the room, trying in vain to drag it with him under the stove but only half making it.  Judging by the particular trap he was snarred in, I now know the tiny hole from which the guy made his entrance.  Time to close it up.  I feel awful about his demise but imagine he's only the first of an army, now seething with anger over my atrocity, much like Platoon's Sgt. Barnes in the village.  I'm waiting for the Johnny Depp translator mouse to come up to me and start asking who the rice and the weapons are for ... er, I mean the glue traps and poison-laced bait. But I digress.)

Healthcare? Whatchutalkin'bout, Willis?

I'm flipping through the channels and see that Larry King's guests tonight are Jesse Ventura and Todd Bridges.   My mind reels trying to connect the dots between these two shining stars.  Not so much that I'm tempted to actually watch the show and perhaps uncover this mystery.  Bridges' appearance at this juncture is obviously connected to Corey Haim's passing (one "formerly" troubled ex-child star talking about a fellow traveler on the ash heap of has-been heaven recently crossed over to the other side).  Jesse was big in the 80s as well, though he wasn't a child or on a sit-com.  Perhaps Corey (or Todd) took to trolling on the pro wrestling circuit in their spare time (perhaps they all shot growth hormones together, sharing the same dirty needles).

Guess I'll have to switch on over after all ...

... Hey!  What the fuck!?!?  Jesse (and Rudy himself, Sean Astin) are on talking about healthcare!  My God!  The healthcare bill is now truly doomed!   Rudy is stuttering on about how "there's some really good stuff in this bill" and "the people did speak, at the polls, and they want this."  I agree with both sentiments but these guys aren't the ones you want convincing folks, do you?  

Perhaps Larry's trying to reach those suspicious "salt of the earth" types by giving air time to common folks they can relate to.  You know, like a kid who grew up in Hollywood riches (with Gomez Adams and Helen Keller/Identical Cousin Patty/Cathy as parents) and is perhaps best known as a hobbit (though he'll always be Rudy to me) along with a pro wrestler turned governor of a state that these salty types probably think is part of Canada (at best equating it to that Arctic berg who brought raging liberal commie pinko Al Franken to the Senate).  

Maybe that's why Todd Bridges was booked - maybe he'll be giving his Healthcare pitch soon ... free smack for everyone!   We don't need your help, Larry.  Your very existence is a medical aberration so you shouldn't be doing healthcare themed shows, period (or anything beyond the increasingly Jerry Springeresque subject matter you've naturally gravitated to over the years).

Apocalypse Garden

I haven't laughed so hard in months as I did this week with Stephen Colbert's take on one of Glenn Beck's advertisers: Survival Seeds.  Apparently, this is a product to keep you self sufficient and fed during the end of days.  As Stephen notes, "When you're tilling the earth with a human femur while the sky is raining fire, you'll want a reliable supply of radicchio and mini squash."  Colbert added that those ponying up the duckets to advertise on the mighty Glenn Beck know very well one overriding fact: "Nothing sells like the hot stink of fear."  Indeed.

Here's the actual commercial for your own "crisis garden":