Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Due Credit
This blog has been sharply critical of both Hillary and Bill Clinton during the primaries, and justifiably so. That being said, they both came up huge this week, stepping up for Obama with every indication of genuine enthusiasm, putting the greater good above their personal disappointments, and both deserve even more praise.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Maturity Watch
I thought the voting age was eighteen.
Allegedly thousands of Hillary Clinton supporters are still threatening to cut off their noses to spite their faces and not vote for Barack Obama in November’s election. Women who six months ago described themselves as part of Hillary’s cadre of political realists, dismissing Obama’s candidacy as pie in the sky, are now whining about party favoritism (though Clinton supporters played a large role in originally denying representation to the Florida and Michigan delegations), sexism (though Hillary herself was happy to play the victim for much of the campaign, and Geraldine Ferraro et al didn’t mind dropping a racial reminder or three), or whatever else they can think of to “prove” their candidate got jobbed.
As a free service, The Home Office is happy to say what Hillary Clinton would probably like to say and Barack Obama can’t say:
Grow the fuck up. If you’d shown ten percent of the passion for caucuses you’ve shown for whining, Hillary Clinton would be the nominee. You want to point fingers, look in a mirror.
Allegedly thousands of Hillary Clinton supporters are still threatening to cut off their noses to spite their faces and not vote for Barack Obama in November’s election. Women who six months ago described themselves as part of Hillary’s cadre of political realists, dismissing Obama’s candidacy as pie in the sky, are now whining about party favoritism (though Clinton supporters played a large role in originally denying representation to the Florida and Michigan delegations), sexism (though Hillary herself was happy to play the victim for much of the campaign, and Geraldine Ferraro et al didn’t mind dropping a racial reminder or three), or whatever else they can think of to “prove” their candidate got jobbed.
As a free service, The Home Office is happy to say what Hillary Clinton would probably like to say and Barack Obama can’t say:
Grow the fuck up. If you’d shown ten percent of the passion for caucuses you’ve shown for whining, Hillary Clinton would be the nominee. You want to point fingers, look in a mirror.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Hypocrisy Watch
This just in via Paul Krugman's blog, forwarding Glenn Greenwald's commentary.
The gist of Krugman's comment is that Republicans are hypocrites for using Kerry's rich wife against him while attacking Democrats for bringing up McCain's rich wife. I realize Krugman is a Princeton economist, but he's missing the point.
McCain believes you're not rich until you make $5 million a year; using current Republican standards, you're not a gigolo unless your rich, younger wife is worth more than $500 million. Teresa Heinz checked in at about $700 million; Cindy McCain has to get by on $100 million. It's that simple.
Damn ivory tower academics.
The gist of Krugman's comment is that Republicans are hypocrites for using Kerry's rich wife against him while attacking Democrats for bringing up McCain's rich wife. I realize Krugman is a Princeton economist, but he's missing the point.
McCain believes you're not rich until you make $5 million a year; using current Republican standards, you're not a gigolo unless your rich, younger wife is worth more than $500 million. Teresa Heinz checked in at about $700 million; Cindy McCain has to get by on $100 million. It's that simple.
Damn ivory tower academics.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Better to Remain Silent and..
Composer Peter Breiner is upset that the Beijing Olympics are allegedly using his orchestrations of national anthems without obtaining the rights from him. Have you heard the version of the "Star-Spangled Banner" they're using? I have, several tmes, and I don't think I'd be drawing attention to myself over it.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Two Faces of a Candidate
Let's start with the disclaimer: I voted for John McCain in 2000. Twice. I crossed over and voted in the Virginia Republican primary, then wrote him in for the general election. I read his biography and loved it. I'm too cynical to get into hero worship, but he was as close as anyone, right up there with Chuck Yeager and John Glenn. It pains me to oppose his candidacy as strongly as I have come to, but the man whose honor I once considered unquestionable isn't running in 2008.
I would gladly pay $1,000 to the charity of the moderator's choice if someone had the nerve to ask him, politely, to describe why the treatment he received in North Vietnam was torture, when the exact same acts performed by the CIA against terrorists is not.
For a well reasoned and concise comparison, click here.
I would gladly pay $1,000 to the charity of the moderator's choice if someone had the nerve to ask him, politely, to describe why the treatment he received in North Vietnam was torture, when the exact same acts performed by the CIA against terrorists is not.
For a well reasoned and concise comparison, click here.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
One Bite at a Time
The Home Office is pleased to announce the launch of a new blog, One Bite at a Time. I'll still be here with the usual cast of correspondents and public miscreants, ranting into the ether about whatever hair has wriggled up my butt on a given day. One Bite at a Time will be devoted to writing-relating postings: ruminations, trying things out, working out how best to proceed, and, hopefully, sharing some ideas that have worked for me with other writers. Some of you who read this blog will care more than others.
(If you care at all, which should not be assumed. I occasionally rant about why anyone should care about what [fill in the celebrity/pundit/public figure of your choice] thinks about anything. Why you should care about what an employee of a small contracting company currently working at [government agency redacted] says is a question I wrestle with regularly. Of course, I eventually come down on the side of blathering onward. Get over it.)
I hope anyone who writes, enjoys writing, or has an interest in writers stops by One Bite at a Time for a visit. Leave a comment. Argue. Tell me I'm full of crap. Even better, tell me something don't know.
(If you care at all, which should not be assumed. I occasionally rant about why anyone should care about what [fill in the celebrity/pundit/public figure of your choice] thinks about anything. Why you should care about what an employee of a small contracting company currently working at [government agency redacted] says is a question I wrestle with regularly. Of course, I eventually come down on the side of blathering onward. Get over it.)
I hope anyone who writes, enjoys writing, or has an interest in writers stops by One Bite at a Time for a visit. Leave a comment. Argue. Tell me I'm full of crap. Even better, tell me something don't know.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Coffee Break's Over, Back on My Head
Wow. That was fun.
The Sole Heir and I got back from our third Home Office Western Tour late Saturday night. This is Wednesday, and I have enough of my life put back together to start writing again.
The trip was a success by any measure. A three-day drive to Colorado (the Crazy Like Me Correspondent flew ahead) to visit the Sibling Correspondent and his family at The Home Office West. Relaxing in the pool and hot tub—he has his own little resort there, clean towels and everything; you just have to make your own bed—cooking out, seeing the mountains, getting corny Western-style sepia-tone pictures taken, letting the stress and East Coast Overload fall from us like snow off of a roof on the first warm day of spring.
Craze flew home on Sunday and the Sole Heir and I drove northwest, into Wyoming. The next five days were a fantasy vacation: Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks, then driving along the Yellowstone River through Montana. (The Yellowstone is the most beautiful little river you'll ever see, which is saying something, since we saw the Wind River, too.) Little Bighorn Battlefield was much more moving than we anticipated, and the Story Pines Inn was a beautiful little gem the GPS needed a dirt road to get to. Devils Tower, Deadwood and Lead (motorcycle week at nearby Sturgis; bummer). Surrounded by burros and buffalo at Custer SD State Park. The Badlands. A drive-by of the Spam Museum. (Honest to God. We were too early to go in. We got pictures.) Wisconsin frozen custard at The Dells and Italian beefs at Portillo's. Miniature golf on the course where I taught her to play when she was three. (She routinely kicks my ass now.) Glen's frozen custard in Cheswick PA, where I learned to love it. An hour with the Ancestral Correspondents. Then home.
The statistics: 5,186.2 miles driven through fourteen states. Perfect weather, except for about twenty minutes driving through Indiana, when it rained so hard I couldn't see a hundred feet and The Sole Heir kept giggling about how she quit driving just in time. We saw prairie dogs, gophers, a golden eagle (up close), two bald eagles in flight, grizzly bears and wolves (albeit in a preserve), deer and antelope (just hanging out, not playing), the aforementioned rowdy burros, and well over five hundred buffalo, a couple as close as ten feet away. We saw hot springs and mountains covered with snow in August, which might not mean much to a Sherpa but is unheard of in Maryland. We stayed in three towns with combined populations of less than 2500, and ate a meal in the Two Bit Saloon.
And now we're back. The bills will trickle in, and they'll actually be fun to pay, because every one is a memory. By Monday afternoon I wasn't stiff anymore. Back at work two days now, still mellow, a little confused as to why everyone else thinks some of these things are so important.
Ready to go again.
The Sole Heir and I got back from our third Home Office Western Tour late Saturday night. This is Wednesday, and I have enough of my life put back together to start writing again.
The trip was a success by any measure. A three-day drive to Colorado (the Crazy Like Me Correspondent flew ahead) to visit the Sibling Correspondent and his family at The Home Office West. Relaxing in the pool and hot tub—he has his own little resort there, clean towels and everything; you just have to make your own bed—cooking out, seeing the mountains, getting corny Western-style sepia-tone pictures taken, letting the stress and East Coast Overload fall from us like snow off of a roof on the first warm day of spring.
Craze flew home on Sunday and the Sole Heir and I drove northwest, into Wyoming. The next five days were a fantasy vacation: Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks, then driving along the Yellowstone River through Montana. (The Yellowstone is the most beautiful little river you'll ever see, which is saying something, since we saw the Wind River, too.) Little Bighorn Battlefield was much more moving than we anticipated, and the Story Pines Inn was a beautiful little gem the GPS needed a dirt road to get to. Devils Tower, Deadwood and Lead (motorcycle week at nearby Sturgis; bummer). Surrounded by burros and buffalo at Custer SD State Park. The Badlands. A drive-by of the Spam Museum. (Honest to God. We were too early to go in. We got pictures.) Wisconsin frozen custard at The Dells and Italian beefs at Portillo's. Miniature golf on the course where I taught her to play when she was three. (She routinely kicks my ass now.) Glen's frozen custard in Cheswick PA, where I learned to love it. An hour with the Ancestral Correspondents. Then home.
The statistics: 5,186.2 miles driven through fourteen states. Perfect weather, except for about twenty minutes driving through Indiana, when it rained so hard I couldn't see a hundred feet and The Sole Heir kept giggling about how she quit driving just in time. We saw prairie dogs, gophers, a golden eagle (up close), two bald eagles in flight, grizzly bears and wolves (albeit in a preserve), deer and antelope (just hanging out, not playing), the aforementioned rowdy burros, and well over five hundred buffalo, a couple as close as ten feet away. We saw hot springs and mountains covered with snow in August, which might not mean much to a Sherpa but is unheard of in Maryland. We stayed in three towns with combined populations of less than 2500, and ate a meal in the Two Bit Saloon.
And now we're back. The bills will trickle in, and they'll actually be fun to pay, because every one is a memory. By Monday afternoon I wasn't stiff anymore. Back at work two days now, still mellow, a little confused as to why everyone else thinks some of these things are so important.
Ready to go again.
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