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Don’t Bother Reading This Blog Post

There are two ways in which I could describe my motivation for writing a blog a day.  The first is the millionth monkey concept.  If you have enough monkeys at enough typewriters banging away for long enough (sometimes expressed as “an infinite number”, but why be so abstract?)  That’s sort of where I’ve seen myself up to now.  It’s also sort of how I write poetry.  I just keep throwing words into the mix until it sounds right.

But lately, it’s just not good enough.  I’m tired of writing crap.  I want to write something that sings, that uplifts, that inspires.  Part of that may be my usual choice of material.  It’s hard to really be uplifting if you’re writing about politics.  The best you can hope for is persuasive.  I’ve never really been very good at persuasion.

So, vision number two of the rationale for writing a blog a day is the Finding Forrester thingie.  If I have a starting point and start in typing, eventually I will find my own voice and from there on out it’s just coasting downhill.  So, I look for starting points.

This, of course, is the cheapest starting point of all.  A blog about writing a blog, a column about how hard it is to write a column.

And I apologize to anyone reading this for, to quote Glenn Beck, wasting their time.

But I mean it entirely as filler, because I’m three days behind and need to put shit up in order to keep the timeline steady, in order to convince at least my wife that I’m serious about this blog a day thing.

That’s another part of the problem.  The goal is to write a blog a day, but I get two or three days behind, without a great idea for an article because I’m swinging for the fences instead of settling for a base hit.  (This particular blog post is an attempted bunt which has gone foul).  I watch too much TV, I smoke too much pot and, before you know it, 72 hours is gone.

There’s another idea for an article.  Too much TV.

There’s a Communist in the White House

Once upon a time, I was a fan of Victoria Jackson.  I thought she was cute.  The combination of bad, but seemingly sweet and sincere, poetry with apallingly bad, Tiny Tim level bad, ukelele playing and an occasional handstand worked for me.  I found her breathless voice, her big, incredulous eyes and the innocent misuse of big words to be quite endearing.

I felt that it was actually intelligent humor disguised as foolishness.  Intelligent humor is sometimes hard to find.  I felt we were laughing with her, not at her.  We were laughing at her character but even then, it was a character we liked.

Now to the present.  If you want a good laugh, you should go to YouTube and check out Victoria Jackson’s latest song “There’s a Communist in the White House.”  It’s the same old Victoria Jackson routine.  Awkard rhymes, bad guitar, rolling eyes, and extremely bizarre logic.

Of course Obama’s a communist.  His grandparents were socialist s(i.e. liberals), his mother was a communist (she was an anthropologist) Black Theology is exactly the same as Marxism (here we go with the Reverend Wright again), Obama studied communism (Victoria, Victoria, I studied the Industrial Revolution but does that make me an industrialist?), something something Saul Alinsky (nobody’d ever heard of Saul Alinsky until the right wingers decided he was the most leftiest of left wingers to ever exist) and on and on with the guilt by association and scare mongering tactics (pictures of Chairman Mao, Che Guevara, Karl Marx and that other guy he wrote the book with (on the screen there’s a picture of Dennis Kucinich).

It would be a comical old Victoria Jackson routine, except that this time she’s dead serious.  Either that or she has outboratted Borat.

She will be performing at the Showdown in Searchlight on Saturday, March 27^th in Searchlight, Nevada along with Sarah Palin, Joe the Plumber and a whole bunch of people nobody has ever heard of although they include a convicted felon, a woman who poses with snakes and the guy who used to play Garibaldi on Babylon 5, which makes him just about as big a star as Victoria Jackson.

Things have changed since she starred on Saturday Night Live.  We are still laughing but now, tragically, we are laughing at her – and not in a very nice way at all.

Peggy Misses Again

I don’t hate Peggy Noonan.  I hated Ronald Reagan, the man she still adores, but I don’t hate Peggy.  She doesn’t have the vicious hatefulness of Rush Limbaugh or Glenn Beck, the cold cruelty of Bill Kristol or Bill O’Reilly, the smug hypocrisy of Joe Scarborough, and she’s a far more interesting writer than Michelle Malkin or Ann Coulter.

In fact, I rather enjoy her convoluted style and saying things like Nancy Pelosi is a patriotic hero because she wears make-up.

She may be a right-wing nutcase, but she’s a rightwing nutcase like a lot of people I’ve known who, even though their thought patterns are twisted with racism and old fashioned ideas, can occasionally let fly with a zinger that will leave you on the floor with tears streaming down your eyes.

So, I not only don’t hate Peggy Noonan, I actually feel a bit sorry for her lately.  She’s trying so desperately to hate Obama, in every column she tries to depict him as a total failure, and in every column she basically winds up exonerating the guy.

She starts off her column this week with a misty eyed reminiscence of an interview with Henry (you really have to be both old and obsessed with politics to remember who he is) Jackson, and honed in on his response to the question “Why are you running for president?” with “I’m not crazy, you know.”

She segued from that into the idea that anybody who would run for the presidency is nuts.  She cited many examples from the book “Game Change.”  There were examples of irrationality (Hillary Clinton’s temper tantrums), twisted priorities (Palin, worrying more about her hair than about issues) and cursing (John McCain, hoo boy, he sure likes to say Fuck a lot).  She specifically complained that none of them had a good answer to the question “Why are you running for president?  What makes you think you’re so special?”

But she really didn’t lay a glove on Obama.  “He’s smart and he wants everybody to know it.  In meetings with aides, he controls the conversation by interrupting whoever is speaking.”  Sounds like pretty much any CEO.

So, Peggy Noonan’s thesis, “You have to be insane to even run for president, therefore President Obama is obviously insane” is flawed.

Like I say, I don’t hate Peggy Noonan.  But she’s the one who is crazy.

Baby Steps

Isabel slept at school today.  That is a very big step.

She is the smallest child in her pre-school class.  Well, certainly the youngest but I think the smallest, too.  She started in December, just as she turned 3.  The school would have preferred to wait until September, but we begged and they relented.

But, up until now, we have been just sending her for the morning session.  She enjoys it and gets along well with the other kids.  She’s their baby.

Then they have nap time.  The first time we tried to leave her there for the full day she freaked.  She didn’t want to lay down and sleep.  That was too scary for her.

But this morning she asked if she could sleep at school and we said yes.  We kept our options open.  I was nearby with a mobile phone in case the school called, but she was fine.

And, once again, she takes a step that makes our adult lives easier, and it is a bittersweet moment.

There is the moment they first sit on the potty and you realize that you don’t have to change diapers anymore and you should be celebrating, no more visions of smeared poop, no more wiping it off their bum, no more of that smell, but on some level you’re going to miss it, too.  There is the first step and you realize that you won’t have to carry them everywhere, but you LIKE carrying them.  There is the moment when they can speak well enough to tell you what they want, which eliminates a lot of guesswork, but from that point forward it is a non-stop stream of demands that will drive you nuts.

I’m looking forward to the day when both of our kids will be able to go to school by themselves and I’ll get to spend more time at home, but I know I’ll look back on these days then with nostalgia, if not actual longing.

Now, we’ve been hearing about this rapture nonsense for awhile, that on one day God (or Jesus, it’s really easy to get those two confused) will come down, trumpets blaring and all, and take all the true believers with him back up to heaven, and leaving all the rest standing and picking their noses and waiting for the end of the world.

Buddhists, Confucianists, Hindus, Moslems, Jews, Atheists, Pagans, Zoroastrians and probably Mormons, too, are going to be locked out.

No pets, either.

This is a seriously exclusive club.

Well, it was fairly easy for them to make that prediction because all times seem like the end times, there has never been a period of history so mundane that embarrassingly large numbers of people haven’t started conversations with day-um, things are really going crazy lately, and there is pretty much no view of the afterlife so nutty it won’t find adherents.

Now, there is a handy dandy little website called www.ebiblefellowship.com which gives us an actual date.  May 21^st, 2011.  The math used to find it is bizarre.  God warned Noah 7 days before the flood, which means it MUST be 7,000 years between then and the next great earth-ending event.

Also, the whole thing is based on the Lord creating the universe, whole, in 7 literal 24 hour days, in the year 11,013 B.C.  From there, I guess they go through the begats and add up the life span of all these old geezers who lived to be 3 or 4 hundred years old.

So, it’s pretty nutty, but there are people who believe in it.  People who vote, people who we meet in our everyday lives.  I know one woman who was pointing to the heavy snowfall this winter as a sign of the end times.

Anyway, what I’d like to propose is a bet.  To all of those who believe that life as we know it will end on May 21^st, 2011:  if you are right, you win.  You go to heaven forever, I’ll fry in the flames of hell.  If I am right, however, and May 21^st, 2011, is more or less a day like every other day, then you have to shut up.