Mitt Says "Hi!"...again and again.

Mitt called me the other day. He seemed a little stiff...he would not stop talking. I tried to say "Hi"...and I asked him how he liked our Ohio trees...(were they the right height??). (I prefer smaller trees, myself. Less damage when I run in to one.) Anyhow...he went on and on...and said how I need to get out and vote on "Super Tuesday." I did try to tell him I had already voted...but he would not shut up. I asked him for his phone number - since he has mine - but he just said to tell my friends he said "Hi." So there you go. Then, Ann, his wife called...same thing...she would not listen to me so I had to hang up. The next day, Barbara Bush called and said she wants me to vote for Mitt. I asked how her son Georgie was doing...but she kept talking like the others! No phone etiquette any more! Mitt called again...and said the exact same thing as the first call. A senior moment? And, today, I got "An Urgent call about Mitt" from Rob Portman, our Republican Senator. Guess what? He would not listen to a word I said. The logical conclusion? Republicans are deaf.

"Personhood" and a heartbeat....

My wife has noted that I can cry at commercials. I am a sensitive guy. It's not always true, but if the commercial includes a cool piece of music from an ancient place, I might get misty. Rarely, though, do they make me think. Recently, an ad for a product to help control gas...you know...gas...had a line where an interviewer read a resume and said, "...flatulent in 3 languages...," -that made me think. The thought was strange and perverse, but a thought. I was immediately imagining a talking anus. Pursed lips shaping words, first in English, then Spanish and finally Russian. Within no time, my ass was making speeches! It was eloquent...loquacious...mind numbing. The talking ass voiced a thought of its own: "I am a person!' Another ass in the room, a Republican, seconded that motion and introduced their "Personhood/Heartbeat" Amendment.... The war on women continues and escalates.

Last one standing....last one dead.

He is 22. She is 24. Her name is Lauren. She's a Facebook friend of mine. She's in Afghanistan, in the United States Army...no one seems to be able to explain why she's there. Something about Freedom. Karzai, the President there, isn't happy with us...he wants us to stop bombing them. The bombing is killing civilians there. We have robot planes called drones, too. Like science fiction...Buck Rogers. For her it's real, though. It's hot and bad things happen. Unhealthy work. His name is Albert. He's there too. The war there is almost over...his friend was just killed though. An IED blew his friend's face half off. The war's almost over, thank God. Lauren and Albert have families here in the States. Their fathers don't know each other. The same thought, though, keeps them both awake at night. The troops, our troops, are coming home soon...some sometime soon. There are no more goals to achieve...just to stay alive. Both dads can't stop thinking...Lauren and Albert...will be the last one to die. The last one to never come home. The last one old veterans call the REAL heroes of war. Can you imagine someone you loved being the last. Or even being the first. God save you Lauren and Albert. Or maybe we should save them.

I need a friggin God!

Voltaire said, "If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him." Politically incorrect it may be. But a profound truth when we see the lastest news. As of June 7th of this year, the war in Afghanistan became the longest war in our nation's history. I need a God just so I can say, "For Christ's sake...stop!" At home, we're diddling with the economy and politics like children fighting over a popsicle. Republican Debate audiences cheer the death of the uninsured and shout down our gay soldiers. This war...it's like during the Holocaust...when neighbor said to neighbor, "Aw, come on...that can't be happening." We need a friggin God to say a prayer to, light a candle for, mention in passing...when these bodies come home every day.... I believe Stephen Hawking when he says we need no God to explain the Universe. But I need one today.

This follows....

Storm Porn....

Years back, oh so often, I would be hit by a pornado of naked breasts and pelvises while searching for a vendor at work. An innocent misplaced request for medical record chart holders once sent me pop-ups that lasted 10 minutes, as I aimed and struck X's like a marksman. The unexpected casual observer would avert their eyes...but could not help but notice. Pop-ups were a fact of life...a fact that, I'm sure, ended careers or, at least, changed their paths. They were a kind of "Porn Storm." Now, every news channel has cranked up their broadcast of "Storm Porn." And it is addictive...not unlike the urge to see death at the racetrack. Irene is the villain today. No naked breasts. And signs along her target proclaim a sweeter, calmer time. Good night they say to her. So here's to sweetness: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ECPvzLF8GA&feature=fvsr 

The oxymoron....

Compassionate republicans...a small mind
A big mouth and ? which to open...which to shut.