Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.

Blow me.

A quick assessment of the faux furor over the Sotomayor nomination by overtly racist Republicans, notwithstanding that her confirmation is a foregone conclusion, and the swim club debacle in Pennsylvania, where existing patrons were frightened by negros and the public statement of fear that new members would “change the complexion” of the organization, stand as proof that America continues to harbor backward ass racist fucks as a significant and powerful demographic.

What we need here is a national moment of vomiting.  Why can’t we grow the fuck up?

In other news, I’ve discovered a personal predilection for naughty secretary or teacher student themed scenarios when I surf for porn.  Can’t help it, it blows my skirt up.

New evidence today that John Ensign is an even bigger douchebag than Mark Sanford.  No small feat there.  And this religious organization they both belong to called C Street?  A tax exempt church?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Makes me think I haven’t been nearly devious enough in my own life.  I mean, the obtuse crap I could get away with.  I’m gonna take one of those online courses and get my shit ordained and licensed.

Hey baby won’t you lay down with me.  Hey baby.

Something else I want to tell you.  Enough of the Michael Jackson media masturbation.  I’m over it.  A tragedy for sure, but enough is enough.  I’m more than tired of having this speculative freakshow painted on my brain pan every time I access any mainstream media.  I’m looking for shit to mock or make fun of and there’s really nothing funny about any of this.  Tired, tired, tired.

I like chunky peanut butter.  I’m a bit of a texture eater.  Last night my woman took me to sushi.  I adore sushi.  I use an alarming amount of wasabi in my low sodium soy sauce.  I kinda like that sinus brain burn.  Anyway, after the standard salmon and albacore with shaved red onion and ponzu sauce, we ordered a dish with raw tuna and tomatos slathered in the house dressing over fried wonton skins.  Texture and flavor explosions on my tongue.  Sinful.  Decadent.  Evidence of the divine.

Made me pine for the flowerful flavor and structural softness of avocado.  Next time I’ll know.

I read something today that said less than six percent of scientists identify themselves as Republican.  Go figure.  Logic and an empirical ethic vs. fairy tales lies so large they block out the sun.  I’m a socialist I guess because I just can’t own humankind is only six thousand years old.  Flat earthers.  I really want for people to believe whatever they want.  Freedom of speech.  Freedom of religion.  Freedom of thought.

Unless it’s really fucking stupid.

Does this look infected to you?

Oh well.

Were you to ask me if I like people in general, I’d say no.  Perhaps emphatically.  If given time to think about it, I’d probably answer the opposite.  As I sit here, I’m thinking about lots of people I like.  It is my hope that arrogant dipshits don’t out number the thoughtful and aware.  Who am I to blow against the wind?

Paul Simon always makes me think of Al.  I’m not sure why.  Graceland is a gorgeous record but I knew that before I met Al.  We made records together, Al and I.  So I called him just now.  He sounded good.  He’s just the smartest coolest uncool guy I’ve ever met.  If ever there was was a quiet genius, his name would be Al.  If I were him, I’d pay me to spend time with his kids so they turn out cooler than him.  They deserve a shot at being cool.  His family needs a Kenny Powers type influence like me.

They need an asshole.

The Windshield Wonder combines a micro fiber cleaning cloth with a long handle and pivoting head.  Ten bucks bitch.  Oh, the humanity.

I am so sorry for the sandwich I’ve caused you.

Drinks for my friends.

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