I was just giving Tessa a headrub and she fell asleep on my chest – prompting me to tap her on the eyeballs and telling her to move. “Why?” she asked.
“Because I have to write a blog,” I said.
“Is it going to be all sunshine and light?”
“Oh yeah,” I said, “Absolutely… oh wait, I mean NO.”
“You know your readers come to you for sunshine and light.”
If that’s the case, my friends, turn away now, because we got ourselves a Bad News-a-palooza!!! Why, just in the last two days:
• Massachusetts replaces Ted Kennedy with a teabagging douche
• Barring miraculous testicle growth, the Democratic agenda is dead, and Obama will end up like Jimmy Carter
• The Supreme Court ruled that corporations can give as much money to Republican candidates as they want, overturning decades of precedence (and rational thought)
• Air America got shitcanned to the dustbin of history
• The UNC Tar Heels got drubbed by Wake Forest AT HOME, making it the third straight loss, with seemingly no answers for a turnaround
• It has pissed down rain in Los Angeles for the sixth straight day in a row
• and some other things I can’t really mention.
Let me use this blog right now to let out an ear-shredding, glorious
just so those of you at work have to scroll past it. FUCK THIS FUCKING WINTER!!!
In the meantime, let’s set a few things straight.
1. I’ve been taken to task for “giving up” on the political process and told “all liberals fold and take home their toys when things don’t go their way” and “if you do nothing, the worst people in the world win” and the like. Let me reiterate: I will still give money to my local progressive politicians. I will raise money for Gillibrand. I will affect change in my ‘hood. But I am not going to immerse myself in the news anwmore, because THE NEWS IS ALWAYS BAD, AND I FIGHT DEPRESSION REGARDLESS.
I’m not even listening to NPR for the next few months, and that’s saying something, coming from a pinko pill-popping leftist stooge monkey like yours truly. What the fuck, I already had to give up lattés and granola because of IBS, I’m sure Linda Wertheimer won’t miss me.
I say this, even though 95% of me thinks this country is too stupid to save, and even if it weren’t, there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it – even for my daughter – and the Supreme Court ruling just made that even clearer. All I can do is open up my home for friends and weary travelers and lend money and grow vegetables. Anything more is a waste of stomach lining.
2. Regarding my beloved Tar Heels, I’ll reiterate something I wrote to friends earlier today: I don’t think any of us realized what a psychic blow it was to lose Tyler Hansbrough. He brought superhuman focus to our team and did it for four years, allowing us to infantilize in his presence. Now we are adrift, without a student leader or, really, a personality we can get behind.
I’ve always said that every team is merely a custodian for the higher philosophy of Dean Smith, and every time we’ve broken from that path, we not only lose, we cease having much meaning. I know that sounds fruity to many of you, but you can suck it; the Carolina Family stands for something bigger than basketball, and it’s the only religion I’ve got.
Of course, this is where you Christians have an advantage – your God is great every year, whereas I can have a really crappy season.
3. When it rains in Los Angeles, it’s like a magical spell wears off. You wake up and wonder what the fuck you’re doing here. Of course, I’m always wondering that anyway, which means the rain is making me insane. And don’t come to me with that “you don’t know winter like I know winter” bullshit… six days straight of pelting rain and 45 mph winds is bad for anywhere, even London or Seattle. And we’ve got another week to go.
4. A word about the The Top Ten Handwritten Labels to Give Your VHS Videotapes So Nobody Will Watch Them and Find Out They’re Actually Porn blog from a few days back. I’ve been getting lots of emails about it, but let me say this… you’ve got to be careful with this particular genre.
Remember, this was 1991, and in a house full of 22 and 23-year-old guys who were underemployed and had a finely-whittled sense of the absurd. If you made your VHS label too boring-sounding, or too ludicrously mind-numbing, any one of us might have popped it into the VCR in a fit of ironic pique. “Oh!” someone might have said, “The video feed from a closed-circuit camera in a middle-school library? Let’s put this on during a party while cranking Soul II Soul!”
So you had to make the label just right. “Citizen Kane” sounds like a bit much, but you can imagine somebody saying to themselves “I’ve never watched it, and it’s raining… fuck it.” And then your porn is discovered. On the other hand, as good as it might have been, nobody on earth is ever going to pop in “Agnes of God” because it’s raining. As The Budster™ or I might have said, “it’s never a “‘Norma Rae’ night”.
Like everything in life, it’s a matter of balance.
So I bought a bass.