A Tongue-In-Cheek Tome.

Dear Mr. President,

I am writing to express my surprise about your recent win of the Nobel Peace Prize.  It must come as a surprise after you single-handedly lost the entire Olympics bid and forced them to award it to Rio.*  While some people say the Peace Prize is an honor and accomplishment, or even a mandate from the international community to keep trying to use diplomacy over force, I think that they misunderstand the true meaning of peace.  As Teddy Roosevelt, a fellow Laureate, once said, “Guns don’t kill people, peace kills people.”**  You can’t argue with that.  So, here are a few suggestions to get things back on track:

1.  Stop trying to reduce nuclear weapons.  The whole idea that you can take away nuclear arms is unconstitutional.  The second amendment gives me the right to bear arms, and that includes a nuke or two.  It’s what the founding fathers intended.  I’m a conscientious user–in fact, I have taken classes on the use of personal nuclear weapons by my local NRA chapter.  Plus, I need these missiles for hunting and sport purposes.  Just like me, Russia, Iran, and North Korea are exercising their Second Amendment rights as well.  I’ve seen the rabbits and deer that they have over in Russia, and I’ve got to tell you, it would probably take a well-placed nuke to take those suckers out.***

2.  Diplomacy is no substitute for brute force.  All you want to do is talk to our enemies about our problems.  Well, I’ve always said that talking never solved anything.  Everyone knows that the best way to win is to be bigger, stronger, and more heavily armed than the other side.  Does a bully take someone’s lunch money by talking?  No way, they get the money because they hold the weaker guy upside down in the toilet.  If Iran, terrorists, North Korea, Canada, and Nancy Pelosi won’t play nice, there’s only one solution–Swirley Time.  Of course in my scenario, a swirley would be a land invasion, heavy bombing, and possibly a mushroom cloud.

3.  America is always right.  Why have you gone around the world apologizing for our actions?  You act like we did something wrong.  By invading Iraq, we brought peace to their country–once we stopped blowing stuff up.  Same thing with Russia.  How can they know that we are friends if we don’t put our missile defense shield next to their country?  It shows them that we are thinking about them all the time, and that’s a nice gesture.  Cuba was also just fine before you started trying to talk to them.  I mean, think about all those people that would make homemade rafts and leave Miami  just for a chance to live in Cuba.  Plus, they’ve got some really sweet 1950’s hot rods.  Anyway, we’ve never done anything wrong, and we aren’t about to start anytime soon.****

4.  Healthcare.  Why are you trying to kill my family by giving us insurance?  I know this isn’t peace-related, but it’s a worry just the same.  By trying to force everyone to have affordable healthcare, you are denying me my constitutional right to not have insurance.  That’s not capitalism.  Sure, I have insurance right now that I pay for, but that’s my choice.  If I didn’t want to pay anymore, I could quit my job and let the government pay for my care.  You want to take that choice away and I don’t like it.  Keep the government out of Medicare, too!!!   Plus, you want to decide when my grandmother should die.  That is my job, not yours.

Please keep these things in mind when you are Presidenting our country.  It would be a shame if you let that “Peace Prize” go to your head, and you forget that the only true way to have peace is to have the most guns.

Sincerely,

A member of the vocal minority.

*  Of course he didnt, but you would think that he did the way that some people are pointing the finger.  There’s a reason that the title is “Tongue-in-cheek.”

** No, he didn’t really say this.  The true quote was, “Guns don’t kill people, Chuck Norris kills people.”  It was an odd quote for 1905, but it later proved prophetic.

***  In reality, 1 in 5 Russian rabbits can withstand a direct nuclear attack.

****  Well, ok, except for slavery, segregation, Japanese internment, reality tv, Carrot Top, the Defense of Marriage Act, and some minor colonialization, but that’s it.  Oh yeah, and all of the “Real Housewives of…” shows.

P.S.  In reality, Mr. President, the award is for all of us who want to see diplomacy and peace in action.  I hope that this award truly does serve as a call to action for you and for all of us to promote greater understanding and peace among the nations of the world.  Good luck!!

Rogue Gain

Taking her place with other literary icons like Lauren Conrad, Danielle Steel, and James Patterson, Gov. Sarah Palin’s pre-orders for her new book have already sent her to the top of the New York Times bestseller list.  Anxious as always to hear her perspective on things, I thought I would ask Sarah a few things about her new book.  Luckily for me, she was able to fit me in between speech appearances in Hong Kong, Tokyo, and the annual Iditarod Tractor Pull in Denali.

JS:  Gov. Palin, welcome back to the blog, it’s always a pleasure to have you here.

SP:  Gosh, thanks so much.  It’s nice to be here.  But, things have changed, I’m going have to charge you $275,000 for this appearance.  [winking].  Just kidding ya!

JS:  So, let’s talk about the book, what’s it about?

SP:  Well, as you can probably tell from the title, it’s about me.  I started out as just a humble state officer in the largest and least populous state in the Union.  Then, there I was, thrust into the national spotlight and being told what to do by a team of advisors.  As everyone knows, I’m a bit of a maverick, so that didn’t sit well.  I took my own path, and that’s what this book is about.  And it also has a section that includes some of my favorite salmon and seal recipes.

JS:  Salmon and seal.  Sounds like a bargain buy!

SP:  You betcha.  My filet of seal with a side of baked Alaska was a PTA potluck favorite!

JS:  So, what was your process?  How did you write this thing?

SP:  Well, like all good writers, I started with an outline.  Well, actually, first it was a series of dots, which I connected to draw a picture of an eagle.  Then, I colored the picture.  Being a rogue I colored outside the lines a bit.  After I was done, I was inspired by the bald eagle, and I thought about America.  So, I put down a few notes and my people put me on the phone with a ghost, who used his magic to make a book.

JS:  Do you mean that you used a ghost writer?

SP:  Oh no!  I came up with the ideas, the ghost heard them, and then used his magic to make a book.  He didn’t do any writing, otherwise how could my name be on the cover?

JS:  Who are your literary influences?  I think I’m getting a pretty good picture.

SP:  Well, I do love books with pictures.  All those words need something to break them up.  When I was writing this one, though, I was most inspired by Steinbeck.

JS:  John Steinbeck?  I guess you wanted to write about hardworking salt-of-the-earth folks and their struggles to get by in modern America?

SP:  No, Stein and Beck.  Ben Stein and Glenn Beck.  I read parts of each of their books, and that put me in the right direction.

JS:  Sigh.  Well, tell everyone where they can find your book?

SP:  It’s not out yet, but you can preorder it at all the major bookstores, Amazon, and the Juneau general store.  Just remember, you can’t get it on Kindle.

JS:  Why not Kindle?

SP:  Are you kidding?  Most of my biggest supporters don’t have electricity.  Plus, I live in Alaska.  Have you ever tried to charge a Kindle in an igloo?  One spark, and you’re homeless.

Well, that’s the latest from America’s newest lady of letters.  Stay tuned for more because once this thing hits stores, it’s only a matter of time before we see “Going Roguer:  The Sequel.”

In Plane Sight

Disclaimer:  This blog pertains to events that occurred during a bachelor party trip to Las Vegas.  Thus, it involves information that is privileged under both the “Bro Code” and the principle of “What Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas.”  That being said, there were plenty of non-bachelor-party-related events that are blogworthy.  So, without further adieu:

Ah Vegas.  Even more so, Vegas for a bachelor party.  It was quite the weekend, although nothing resembling the plot of the Hangover occurred.  At best, there were a few hangovers and one inexplicable marmot, but all in all it stayed pretty tame.  Still, I had an interesting weekend.

Wintertime

The fun started on Friday as I waited in the airport for my flight, which was delayed for about an hour.  Luckily, I was leaving around lunchtime, and with the time change I still had plenty of Vegas left in the day.  As I sat there in the waiting area, I noticed someone sitting across from me who looked pretty familiar.  I gave it a bit more thought and realized, “Holy crap, that’s Edgar Winter!!”  For those of you who don’t know, Edgar is one-half of the albino-rock/blues Winter brothers from Beaumont, Texas.  Being from that area, I grew up on Edgar’s music, and he has always been a musical hero of mine.  “Is that really him?,” I though to myself.  Luckily, since this guy was a six foot tall albino with his feet propped on a guitar case, I didn’t wonder for long.  Eventually, I made my way over to him and introduced myself as a fan.  He was very gracious, and we chatted briefly before his manager ushered him toward the boarding area.

Mile High

With my first celebrity sighting of the weekend already behind me, I got onto the plane looking forward to a boring flight.  Of course, I was wrong.  Once we reached crusing altitude, I decided to make a trip to the restrooms at the rear of the plane.  Little did I know that, while I was in the bathroom, the drink cart would trap me away from my seat.  Upon making this discovery, I waited for the drink service to end, so that I could return to my seat.  As I stood near the bathroom, many a passenger came by to use the facilities.  I shuffled my way around the rear of the plane to accommodate people’s entry into the cramped facilities.  As I was waiting, a couple appeared.  The wife went into the bathroom, and, after everyone else had cleared out, the husband decided to follow.  Unfortunately, I was still there.  “Don’t tattle,” he told me, as he headed into the restroom to meet his wife for a rendezvous.  I was still there about three-and-a-half minutes later, when he emerged looking sweaty and victorious.  I was also there two minutes later when his wife emerged, looking less than thrilled.  Given her expression, I would guess that they really only made it to the half-mile high club.

Octogenarian

When the drink service was over, I returned to my seat.  Sitting next to me was an elderly lady, who struck up a conversation with me.  I learned from her that she was on her way to Vegas for ten days, to celebrate her 85TH BIRTHDAY!!!!  When I asked her what she planned to do, her answer surprised me.  “I want to gamble and I want to party.  You only turn 85 once, and I want to have a good time.  Who knows, maybe there will be a few nice men around.”  All I can say is that Ethel, I hope that those Chippendale tickets work out for you.

Sunday Morning Coming Down. 

On my last morning in Vegas, I was sitting at the pool soaking up some sun with a couple of the other attendees.  The rest were in the room letting their livers catch up with the rest of their bodies.  So, there we were watching as a gentlemen trained his young daughter fetch fresh bottles from his beer bucket.  Suddenly, the entire pool area was surrounded by about 10 guys in “Security” t-shirts.  Then, a group of kids showed up in the pool.  I thought that they looked familiar, and after a minute I realized that I recognized them because they were Michael Jackson’s kids.  Yep, Paris, Prince Michael, and Blanket were partying in the Palms pool with a couple of friends, a nanny, a security team, and their grandmother.  If there was any doubt, it was erased when security went around and made people delete any photos that they took.  They seemed to be having fun, and I was glad to see that.  They’ve never had chance for a normal life, so I hope that they can make the best of what they have.

That pretty much covers the non-privileged parts of my weekend.  Winter, plane nookie, 85th birthdays, and the Jacksons made for quite a time.  Also, if anyone knows Mike Tyson, I may have an inside line on where your marmot is.

The Bored of Edjucation

Well, it’s summertime in Texas, which means two things:  (1) it’s hot enough to cook eggs on the sidewalk (which is still more sanitary then Denny’s) and (2) it’s time for the State Board of Education to try to dismantle another branch of curriculum.  Last year’s struggle was over science.  The big debate was whether teachers should be required to spend equal time teaching intelligent design versus evolution.  Luckily, for all of us, they decided to stick with evolution as the mainstay.  So, what’s on this year’s plate?  Social studies.

Now, many of you might be asking, what’s the worst that they can do?  After all, much of social studies is based on history and fact.  Well, you’d be wrong.  In helping to design the curriculum, the state appointed six “experts” to review the current lesson plans and determine what every child would be learning.  So, certainly these would include educators, people with curriculum experience, and scholars of history and government, right?  Well, yes and no.  Certainly, there are qualified historians and professors, but then there is also Peter Marshall, an evangelical minister, and David Barton, a Republican activist.  Their recommendations, which include dropping Thurgood Marshall and Cesar Chavez from curriculum have drawn the ire of many.  So, to get the story, I thought that I would sit down for a few words to get to the bottom of this:

Me:  Gentlemen, thanks for joining me.  I just wanted to find out a bit about why you made the recommendations that you did.

DB:  Well, our goal is to rewrite the standards to focus on what the founding fathers intended–a Christian nation based on biblical principles.

PM:  Exactly, by interjecting these more recent historical figures, they are ignoring the principle that our great nation was founded upon:  that only rich white men get to be famous.

Me:  So, you’re telling me that you think that social studies should only focus on famous white men?

DB:  Well, not per se, but in practice, yes.  I mean, can you name me one significant person who has done anything in this country that wasn’t a white Christian male?

Me:  What about Thurgood Marshall?

PM:  Don’t even get me started.  All he did was win some case and get schools desgregated.  If the Founding Fathers had wanted integration, they would have put it into the Constitution.  I don’t see it in there anywhere.  Plus, as a Supreme Court judge he was a judicial activist, and he made policy, not law.  We don’t want our kids growing up with the idea that judges get to make policy.

Me:  Sigh.  Ok, moving on.  What about Cesar Chavez?

DB:  I am so sick about hearing about this guy.  All he did was give us a salad named after himself.  Sure, it’s pretty tasty, and I really like that Southwestern Caesar at Chili’s, but is that enough to get them in the social studies book?  I don’t think so.  Not to mention the fact that caesar salads are notoriously high in fat.  With our kids’ obesity rates rising through the roof, I don’ t think that we should be encouraging unhealthy eating.

Me:  Really?!  A salad?  Ok, fine, what about Anne Hutchinson?  She was a colonial leader, an early advocate of women’s rights, and a supporter of religious freedoms.  She was also white.  Why doesn’t she pass muster?

PM:  Are you kidding?  It was all of those things that got her kicked out of Massachusetts in the first place.  That type of rebellion is unhealthy and I don’t want my kids learning about it.  It’s our job to teach social studies, not socialism studies.

Me:  Mr. Barton, anything to add?

DB:  Well, my last complaint is about semantics.  All of these text books talk about our “democratic history,” ”democratic” ideals, and “democratic” processes.  Since we are really more of a republic, I think that we need to erase the word democratic anywhere that it appears and replace it with “republican.”  That way we won’t be teaching our kids the wrong thing.

Me:  Ok, I’ve had enough of this.  Thanks for your time, I’ll let you get back to reading social studies textbooks.  Maybe some of it will rub off on you.

As you can see, the right wing is a flappin’ this summer.  But, like the high temps, let’s hope that these recommendations fade into something more moderate as the year goes on.

****Note:  No actual board members were interviewed, or harmed during the writing of this blog.  I can’t say the same for our educational standards.****

Chain Chain Chain….Cheney of Fools.

Recently, Dick Cheney has stepped back into the public eye to go on the offensive about waterboarding and other “enhanced interrogation” techniques approved and used by the Bush Administration.  Interestingly, these appearances bring an important question to the minds of all Americans:  How is Dick Cheney still alive? 

Let’s look at the facts.

1)  Dick Cheney has had more heart attacks than all of the members of the North American Fried Food Addicts Association combined.  Remember back to five years ago?  Not a week went by that we didn’t have some report about Cheney being in the hospital for an infarction-this or an angio-that.  That dude’s arteries are more clogged than California’s freeways.

2)  Dick is not the most careful with weapons.  It was only a few years ago that Mad Dog Cheney blasted his buddy in the face witha 12 gauge during a hunting accident.  And that’s one that we heard about.  If he’s willing to shoot a friend for fun, just imagine what he was willing to do to people he didn’t like.  There’s probably a couple of detainees in Gitmo that did nothing more than give him bad service at his favorite all-you-can-eat chicken fried steak joint.

3)  He no longer has a secure location.  Since 9/11, anytime there was a credible threat, an incredible threat, or a butterfly on the NORAD radar, Cheney was whisked off to a “secure location” so that he could continue the chain of command in the event of some catastrohic attack.  Coincidentally, most of these “threats” seemed to occur when the Dickster said or did something that was politically unpopular.  Not surprisingly, the current adminstration is putting together their own plans to deploy Biden to a secure location anytime one of his gaffes rises to the level of being more than “mildly offensive.”  Unfortunately, since Cheney was wheeled away from the Capitol after his Vice-Presidency, he’s had to fend for himself.  No one sends him to a secret location when he says something, although I bet there are many in D.C. who would like to find somewhere quiet to leave him in seclusion.

Defying all odds and living well past his nine allotted lives, the former VP keeps sticking his nose into the country’s business.  For those of you who didn’t get enough of him in the last eight years, enjoy.  For the rest of us, please submit your ideas on where to send him for a “goodwill” mission on behalf of the US.  I hear that Iraq and Afghanistan are very lovely this time of year.

EVERYBODY PANdemIC!!

Well, unfortunately for the rest of the U.S., Texas did not secede fast enough.  Instead we presented our northern neighbors with a little “not-going-away” present—the Swine Flu.  If you’ve been watching the news for more than 1.6 seconds in the last week you know that hundreds of people throughout the US have been killed hospitalized mildly inconvenienced after being diagnosed with this disease.  Never ones to let the facts get in the way of a good story, however, the media has declared swine flu the next great plague and would have everyone donning germ masks and Lysoling anything that came within 15 feet of them.

So, to help stop the spread of panic, if not the disease, I thought I would tackle a few misconceptions about it:

1)  The Origin.  Sure, no one knows exactly where it came from, but we can rule out some of the whackier theories.  First, it was not a biological warfare attack, so stop acting like it was you conspiracy theorist nutjobs.  Second, it is not the fault of the Obama administration.  Yes, I did read an article where someone tried to blame Obama who, because he is secretly a Muslim secretly outlawed the importation of pork, leading to an increase in the population of pigs, which led to an increase in the virus. 

Putting away your tinfoil hats for a second, let me posit my theory:  divine intervention.  If you’ve been reading the news lately, you know that the top story was the marriage of Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag, the two most visible and least useful alumni of the tv show The Hills.  God, who reads all of the gossip pages, saw this and realized that he had to do something to prevent these two from procreating and producing a genetic reject so dumb that it actually reversed the course of evolution.  So, he created a virus in Mexico, their reputed honeymoon destination, hoping to waylay them and make them sterile.  Unfortunately for him it didn’t work.  Now, here we are cancelling schools and festivals in order to prevent another outbreak because these two boneheads were too stupid to get the flu.

2)  Transmission.  Ok, you can’t get the swine flu from eating any kind of pork products, so don’t toss that BLT or ham and cheese.  Instead, you get it one of two ways:  (1) from interacting with an infected swine; or (2) from interacting with an infected person.  Thus, if you happen to share an apartment with a pig who has been running a fever lately you might want to head to the doctor.  Same rule applies if you live with a roommate who has been alternating between coughing, sneezing, and oinking.  Since prevention is key here, make sure that you act sooner rather than later in getting medicine.

3)  Treatment.  Unlike the regular flu, the swine flu has the added complication of being from pigs.  So, in addition to our human medication you have to treat the virus pig-style.  Now, what does a pig do when it is sick?  It lays in the mud, oinking and groaning until it feels better.  If you find yourself infected, don’t delay–head to the doctor for your medicine, then make yourself a nice mud pit in your backyard, bathtub, or living room.  In addition to healing your flu, it will have your skin looking ten years younger.  Think of it as a spa treatment for your inside and outside.

Hopefully these facts will help everyone cope with this dreaded disease.  Through common sense, mud baths, and a healthy dose of bacon, we can nip this pandemic before it spreads too far.  That way we can be prepared for the summer, which brings with it a heightened risk of monkey asthma, penguin laryngitis, and duck dysentary.  Happy healing!

Take Another Little Pizza My Heart Now, Baby…

Ah, the overshare. One never knows when it’s going to come up and take you by surprise.  For me, last night was one of those times.  There I was, sitting on the couch trying to figure out what I was going to do for dinner when it hit me—how about a delicious, unhealthy pizza meal from Domino’s?  So, I jumped up, grabbed the phone, and started dialing.  Two minutes later, I had a medium pepperoni and mushroom with a side of cheesy bread on its way to my door.  As I sat and watched the minutes tick by, my thoughts happily turned to visions of dipping sauces and Parmesan cheese covered slices.  Then, I heard it—a car door slammed outside!  I ran down the stairs, flung open the door, and what to my wandering eyes should appear but a 107 year old delivery guy who was very very very slowly drawing near.

“How are you?” I called to him as he shuffled his way towards the door.  “Fine,” came the reply, “in fact, I’m doing really well considering that I just had a quadruple bypass surgery in December.”

“Ok,” I thought to myself, “that’s more than I needed to know, but whatever—soon the savory flavor of pepperoni will take all my cares away.”

Instead of just delivering, however, he continued.  “Yep, I’ll tell you, the old ticker’s got all new plumbing.  They just basically did a roto-rooter in there, but now I’m purring like a sports car.”

“That’s great,” I told him, “you really seem to be getting around pretty well.”  “Unfortunately it’s at 0.03 mph,” I thought to myself.

“Well, you have to walk after something like that—builds the muscles back up,” he interjected.  “Take me for example.  This last heart attack was my third one.  Plus I’ve had a stroke.  You really gotta stay clear of those fatty foods, or it will get ‘ya. By the way, here’s your pizza.”

Thoroughly disturbed by the recitation of medical history I’d just received, I took the pizza and turned to walk back inside.  But he wasn’t quite through.

“Yeah, I used to eat whatever I want when I was your age.  But it catches up with you, boy oh boy.   After my second heart attack, I tried to really watch what I ate, but when I went into the hospital this last time, I had 100% blockage in all of my major arteries.  They said it was a miracle I was still going at all.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that you’re doing well,” I offered, “you have a good night.”

But it still wasn’t quite over….

“Yeah, they don’t tell you these things when you’re a young man.  But you really gotta’ start on it early.  And you don’t even want to know what happens to your prostate—-it’s like a balloon blowing up in there…”

“Well, I should probably get this inside before it gets too cold,”  I told him as I turned for the door.  “Good luck to you…”

“You too, son, enjoy that pizza..”

I headed into the kitchen, thoroughly turned off at my dinner choice—well, until I opened it at saw all of that delicious cheese smiling back at me.  “I’m young, I can go to the gym an extra time this week,”  I bargained as I heaped a couple of slices onto my plate.  Then I saw it–a container of marinara sauce peeking out from behind my cheesy bread.  That’s it, I said–that has tomatoes, which count as vegetables.  If I dip my crust into that, I’m practically eating health food.  Off I went to the couch to enjoy my feast.  And enjoy I did!

So, I guess the moral of this story is that there really is no moral.  Sometimes we have to think about things that aren’t too pleasant, but with a little rationalization, denial, and marinara, you can always find a way to enjoy yourself.

Don’t Call it a Skirt or You’ll Get Kilt…

Here I am, blogging on a train between Edinburgh and London, how very European of me! So far, our trip has been a great time. We started out in merry ole’ England, specifically London, and tried to see everything that city had to offer. But, then we fled the G20 summit and its protesters to Scotland for a heapin’ helping of haggis, haze, and hospitality. If anything, my trip has taught me that there are still quite a few cultural differences between us Yanks and our cousins across the pond. To illustrate, here are a few examples:

1) In England, a pound is a unit of money and a stone is a unit of weight. Why is this important? Well, let me give you two instances. First, if you are in a store and you order a half-pound burger, you are liable to be very disappointed with the size of your entrée, as you will only get what $ 0.75 will buy, which ain’t much. Another time this matters is if you are talking about people around you. For instance, if you are speculating as to the weight of the oddly anorexic lady standing in front of you in line and estimate that she’s about “60 pounds” she may be easily offended at your low estimate of her value on the open market. Not that this happened to me, twice, or anything.

2) Everything sounds cooler with an English accent. So there we were, sitting on the train waiting to depart from a stop along the route. The three-year-old in front of us suddenly pops off, “What in the bloody hell is going on ‘ere?” Normally, that would be an irritating outburst. With a British accent, however, it was a charming little slice of UK life.

3) Everything sounds even cooler with a Scottish accent. Throughout our time in Edinburgh (and on a day tour through the Highlands) we were exposed to all kinds of Scots. And the one thing that they all had in common was a great accent. Whether it was our tour guide railing against the English in his thick Scottish brogue, or the lady in the shop calling everything “wee,” a Scottish accent just gets the point across with just a little bit more umph. Luckily, the term “wee” is more one of affection than of size. This revelation came as quite a relief after I was directed to the “wee gents” room in more than one pub.

We’ve still got a couple of days left on our UK adventure, and I’m determined to do some more comparative cultural exploring before I head back to the States. But for now, I’ve got to hit the loo before I head up to the pub car for a pint and maybe a couple of quid worth of take away. Cheers!

I see London, but not France…

Well, we’re off to the UK for an old-fashioned England and Scotland vacation.  We expect the usual sites, Austin Powers, the Beatles, and lots of guys in skirts.  Of course, we’re planning to see all the old standards, Big Ben, Parliament, Buckingham Palace, and the Tower of London.  What I’m really excited about are the non-traditional sites that no one makes a point to see:

1)  The British Museum of Dentistry.  Not a lot of people know about this, but Britain features prominently in the history of teeth-pulling. This museum devotes all of its floor space to the chronological walkthrough of the UK’s oral history.  Luckily, it’s a short tour, as the Brits have made no signficant advancements since 1746.

2)  Sir Francis’ House of Bacon.  Lot’s of people know of Francis Bacon as a relatively outdated British intellectual, who may or may not have written Shakespeare’s plays.  What they don’t know was that his greatest invention was a little slice of pork heaven that bears his name.  What better place to try a BLT than in the joint where the B was invented? I can feel my arteries clogging as I type!

3)  The Original McDonalds.  Most Americans think that McDonalds got its start in California in the 1950’s.  Wrong!  It actually began in Scotland a decade earlier when Ian and Corin McDonald added a new feature to the menu of their roadside haggis stand.  They called it the Edinburger, and it featured a half-kilo of beef, three buns, and their special sauce, which was whisky.  Word soon got out and it made its way across the pond to America. Sure, some changes were made–the “Edinburger” became the “Big Mac” and the special sauce became thousand island dressing, but the stand still remains.  Most of all I just want to get my picture taken in front of their signature plaid arches.

We’ve got quite the itinerary to keep if we’re going to make all of these stops, but I’m confident that we can see everything we need to see, plus the REALLy good spots listed above.  So, if I can get a good internet connection, I will keep updating our progress.  Until then, cheerio!

A Cease-fire (of sorts)

Well, the mortgage war is over.  For now. I got confirmation that the mortgage company actually paid my taxes.  Luckily, I’m still within the time frame to return all of the religious vestments that I bought.  Like the end of all great stand-offs (Reagan/Gorbachev; Cheney/America; LC/Heidi), however, there is always a faint glimmer of conflict on the horizon.  So, stay tuned–2009 taxes are far from settled.

Hail to the Chuck?

As many of you may have heard, Chuck Norris has been talking recently about his belief that Texas will soon be seceding from the United States.  Yesterday, reports hit the wire that if the secession happens, Chuck will be throwing his hat in the ring for President of Texas.  Unfortunately for Chuck, there are some issues with his candidacy.  At the risk of a cowboy-booted roundhouse to face while I am sleeping, I thought that I would analyze a few problems with Mr. Norris’s candidacy:

1) Nationality.  Unfortunately for Chuck, he may not even clear the first hurdle for Presidency–as he is not from here.  It turns out that Chuck is a native of Oklahoma.  So, even if Texas did succeed in seceding, he wouldn’t make the first cut for President.  (This is assuming that any Constitution would require that the President be a native).  Sure, back in the ‘ole days of the Republic we didn’t have native presidents (Sam Houston), but since the only natives were barely in their teens that wouldn’t have worked anyway.  Plus, how could we ever trust someone from out-of-state?  Every year he might show up wearing orange for the annual OU-UT game, but if you looked into his eyes, you might see a little Boomer Sooner lurking.

2)  Lack of Foreign Policy experience.  Texans are going to need a President with a little bit of finesse in dealing with other world leaders, including our funny neighbors to the North–the Americans.  From what I have seen from watching Walker, Texas Ranger reruns on USA, Chuck’s foreign policy doctrine would include a preemptive karate strike against the head of state of any country that he might presume to be hostile.  Though many have forgotten, that is exactly how William McKinley started the Spanish-American war when he karate-chopped the emperor of Spain during a White House visit in 1898.  Do we want a repeat of this?

3)  Other Candidates.  In a state as wide-ranging as Texas, we are bound to have some other candidates.  For instance, we have two people living here right now who already have some Presidential experience (their last name rhymes with Tush).  To add to that, we have a lot of other movie stars and celebrities that I’m sure would line up to throw their hat in the ring:  Matthew McConaughey, Bill Paxton, ZZ Top, Tommy Lee Jones, Sandra Bullock, Kinky Friedman, and, of course, Willie Nelson.  Let’s face it, if there were ever a Nelson/Jones ticket, Chuck wouldn’t have a chance.

4)  Special interests.  Chuck has a history of taking money from special interest groups that might affect his judgment.  For example one only needs to look to late night infomercials to see that Chuck is merely a pawn for the Total Gym lobbyists.  Do we want a President who is too busy peddling an ab machine to take care of the problems facing our great state?  I think not.

So think about this while you are deciding whether or not to secede.  As for me, I’m going to turn off the lights, close the curtains, and hope that Chuck doesn’t read this.  Otherwise, I meet be getting a little Walker and some Texas Ranger to the head real soon.

The Taxman Cometh…

After a three-month silence, I have decided to go public with my struggle.  I am at war with my mortgage company.  No, it’s not over my payments or my interest rate, or anything juicy like that.  Instead, I am fighting, unlike most Americans, to pay my taxes.  And so begins my tale of subprime customer service… 

Let’s start back at the beginning.  At the end of last year, I got notice that my current mortgage company (GMAC) was going to sell my loan to another local company.  For whatever reason, I guess GM needed money.  So, I called both companies to ensure that they would pay my real estate taxes (due on 1/1/09) out of the escrow account.  I was assured by both that they had the necessary paperwork and that the new company would be cutting a check.  Fool me once. 

 A month later, I noticed that no money had left my escrow account, so I called the new company back.  At that time, I was told that they didn’t show me owing any taxes and that they would have to put my file into “research.”  (I have since learned that this is a nebulous term that describes them giving a monkey a phone book and seeing if he can find out any information).  I offered to resend a copy of my tax bill, but they said they had it and didn’t need it again.  So, feeling reassured I let the matter rest for awhile.  Fool me twice.

A month went by and, again, I noticed that no money had changed hands.  So, feeling like a chump I called them back.  I talked to what sounded like a 17 year old kid who told me that, due to a banana shortage, the “research” hadn’t come back and asked for a copy of the bill, which I sent.  He then told me that he would alert his manager and that it would be paid “within a week or so.”  Fool me thrice.

Two weeks later, when I got the late notice from the county, I called them back.  “Oh,” I was told, “we don’t show you owing anything.”  I sent in the latest bill and was told, again, that a manager would be alerted and that it would be “handled.”  Since I had already fallen for this schtick, I decided to give them a week to deal with it.

Back to yesterday.  I called them to check, again, and this is what happened:

Me:  [repeats story from above minus the monkey references]…So, all I want to know is why nothing has been paid.  I’ve sent you the bill three times, called five or six times, sent several emails, and left several unreturned voicemails for your manager.

Rep:  Oh, well I see that the research has come back, and according to the county, you are tax exempt and owe nothing.

Me: [head explodes].  Are you FRIGGIN’ KIDDING ME???!!!!!!!  You have two different bills showing that I owe the taxes, one of which is a later notice and you are telling me that I’m tax exempt????  Do I sound like I’m a church?

Rep:  Sorry, sir, but we have to go by what the county tells us and not the written bills.

Me:  Ok, then tell me, specficially, who you talked to at the county and what they told you?

Rep:  I’m sorry, I don’t have that information.  But, we’ll put it back into research and I’ll alert my manager.

Me:  Oh, no, I’m not letting that research monkey throw darts at the phone book again.  Just get it paid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I then called the county and was assured that “No one at our office would have told them that you are exempt and do not have to pay taxes.”  I was then given the name and number of the tax office person to provide to the company, which I did:

Rep:  How can I help you?

Me:  Yes, this is the Rev. Jodysez calling to get the taxes paid on my church property.  Can you help me my son?

Rep:  I’m sorry, father, but we don’t show you owing any taxes.

Me:  Would I lie to you? 

I then gave them the info and was told, once again, that the manager would be alerted and that it would be paid.  So, here I sit in my robe and collar, praying for the day that I (and my flock) can rest easily knowing that the taxes have been paid.  Until I get confirmation, however, I will continue to call, complain, and even curse a little bit at the complete and utter incompetence that is Nationstar Mortgage.  Barring that, please feel free to stop by the house on Sundays for services at 9:30 and 11.

Stimulus, a(n) “historical” perspective.

Well, Austria has weighed in on the stimulus package proposal.  No, I’m not talking about the Governator’s (R-Ca) motherland, but Ohio’s own Rep. Steve Austria (R-eally??), who recently gave a history lesson to the Columbus Dispatch.  In explaining the dangers that Stevie foresees with the government spending in the stimulus bill, he reminded everyone that:

“When (President Franklin) Roosevelt did this, he put our country into a Great Depression,” Austria said. “He tried to borrow and spend, he tried to use the Keynesian approach, and our country ended up in a Great Depression. That’s just history.”

Unfortunately for Austria, this isn’t history in the “literal” sense.  In fact, most historians, economists, lumberjacks, tow-truck drivers, police officers, homo sapiens, tree squirrels, mosquitoes, and extraterrestrials place the start of the Great Depression in or about 1929.  FDR, however, didn’t take office until 1933–four years later.  To top it off, the New Deal (which was actually a whole series of programs) took place well into the end of the decade and did stimulate both GDP growth and the creation of new jobs.

Sadly, Austria’s reaction is not an isolated incident.  It turns out that others in the GOP are reading from the same “history” book.  Indeed, Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison trumpeted similar facts in an op-ed a week or so ago.   Hutchison posited that the New Deal, “which suppressed competition and kept unemployment in the range of 9 percent to 16 percent, actually prolonged the depression by seven years. “  Unfortunately, her analysis ignores the fact that in 1933–prior to the New Deal–unemployment was at 25%!!!!  So, even taking her facts as true, during the time that the New Deal was in place, unemployment dropped at least 50%.

The real problem with all of this is that these are the stewards presiding over what will ultimately become about $800 billion in spending over the next several years.  I am not a mathematician–I stopped trying to learn in algebra class– but I certainly know how to realize that 1933 was after 1929, and that 9-16 < 25.  Just like you shouldn’t let a seven year old do your taxes (unless you are aiming for a prison sentence), we shouldn’t let representatives make decisions based on arguments that have no basis in reality.

Certainly, people will debate over the effects of programs like the New Deal, and whether it fixed the Great Depression, but those people are typically economists and historians who take things like proper dates and numbers into consideration.  All I’m saying is that when you are listening to the arguments being made, just take a little time to look at what they are really saying.  Maybe from now on, we should try to listen to someone with a better perspective on these things, maybe someone who knows a thing or two about adding and subtracting–like that counting dog on the Oprah show.

Stimulus, By the Numbers

It appears that the Senate has reached a deal on the stimulus package.  Under the plan, the government would be using a combination of spending, tax cuts, government pork, health care, and education as a “financial Viagra” to get the economy ready for action.  There’s been a lot of wrangling over the details (Dems favor spending, Repubs favor tax cuts, and Lieberman favors cutting spending on tax cuts), but everyone seems to agree that something is needed.  So, in honor of the “bipartisan compromise” (also known as political blackmail), I thought I would formulate a quiz to see what we know about the numbers:

1)  500,000,000.  Does this number represent:

a) The amount proposed to be spent on education;

b) The amount proposed to be spent on tax relief for those living under the poverty line; or

c) the number of Americans that Nancy Pelosi claims will lose their jobs each month if the stimulus isn’t passed.

If you had “C,” you’ve got it!  That’s right, Fancy Nancy recently told Congress that Americans would lose 500,000,000 jobs per month if the stimulus didn’t pass.  This is a truly incredible number, especially when you take into account that the U.S. population is only slightly more than 400 million. 

2)  60,475,688.  Does this number represent:

a) The amount set aside for farm subsidies in the Midwest due to falling commodity prices;

b) The amount earmarked for urban renewal in cities hard hit by unemployment; or

c) The number of negative comments that Rush Limbaugh and Fox News have made about the Obama administration since January 20, 2009.

Once again, “C” has it!  Ditto heads and Fox News fans wasted no time in giving Obama a hard time.  His hand was barely off the Lincoln Bible (or Koran depending on who you listen to) before the “Fair and Balanced” team and Limbaugh went into full-fledged right wing panic.  So far, they have accused Obama of everything from being a Communist dictator to an unpatriotic traitor due to his failure to wear a tie and jacket in the Oval Office (conveniently forgetting the pictures of Bush sans jacket).  Based on current projections, this “Negative Nellie Number” is projected to exceed the national deficit by the end of 2010.  Now that’s a change you can believe in.

3) 747,065,033.  Does this number represent:

a)  The amount of tax credits and rebates extended to small business owners;

b) The money allotted to aid and supplement state unemployement benefits; or

c) The money allotted to build the “Aretha Franklin Permanent Hat Exhibit” at the Smithsonian.

Well, the “C’s” made a clean sweep.  The stimulus sets aside quite a chunk of change to build a place to honor the headwear of the Queen of Soul.  The crown jewel (no pun intended) of this collection will be the Inauguration Day Hat worn by Aretha to sing “My Country Tis’ of Thee.”  Don’t look for this collection in the history museum, however, because the sheer size of her hats will require a spot next to the lunar capsule at the Air and Space Museum.

So, America, nothing to worry about.  Pretty soon the money is going to start heading your way, and the job offers will be pouring in.  If you happen to have special expertise in the design and building of hat-related exhibits, you should probably dust off your resume right about now.

The Bong Show

Michael Phelps is in hot water.  Perhaps more aptly, Michael Phelps is in bong water.  Instead of swimming his way to the gold, Phelps has recently become the newest cover boy for High Times.  Putting aside the issue of whether you agree with marijuana use in the U.S., we can all agree that Michael violated celebrity rule No. 1–don’t do something stupid/illegal with a camera around.  See Britney Spears Meltdown ‘08.  But, like the good celebrity that he is, Michael has apologized and asked for forgiveness.  This incident got me thinking, so I called up the Jodysez Pharmaceutical and Recreational Substance Correspondent, Matthew McConaughey, for his thoughts on the issue:

Me:  Matthew, thanks for taking some time to talk about this.  What do you think about Michael Phelps recent run-in with the media?

MM:  Look here bro’, this is just a bum rap.  [Giggles].  Man, can you imagine what it would be like if bums could rap?  I would totally pay to go to that concert—they’d be all, “Yeah, that’s right, I’m a bum, so give me some money so I can buy some rum…”  [Laughs].

Me:  Ok, but what does that have to do with Michael Phelps?

MM:  Oh yeah, see the thing about that is, a person should be able to do what they want in the privacy of their home without worrying about it ending up on the internet.  Like, say somebody wants to smoke out a little bit at their house, then they need to play some naked bongos.  Who’s to stop them?

Me:  I’m gonna guess the cops.

MM: [Laughs, then giggles followed by more laughs].  Yeah, I guess you’re right.  That’s pretty funny. 

Me:  So, do you think that the pressures of celebrity can drive someone like Michael Phelps to use marijuana?

MM:  Man, you can’t drive someone to use marijuana.  I mean, you can drive to their dealer’s house to buy some weed, you can drive through Jack In The Box at 2 a.m. for some snack, and you can drive really slow when you’re high, but this dude probably just did it ‘cuz he wanted to try it.

Me:  So you think it was just curiousity, or him trying to fit in?

MM:  Man, whatever…..[Giggles uncontrollably].

Me:  Hello?

MM:  Right, say do you know where I could get any of those fried things you talked about in your state fair post?  I’m jonesin’ for some strawberry waffle balls.

Me:  Look, I’m trying to ask you about Michael Phelps and his drug use, can you focus here?

MM:  Hey man, don’t be so harsh, we’re all just rolling around on this planet trying to have a good time.  If you ask me, it makes sense–dude was eating 13,000 calories a day while he was at the Olympics.  Now that he’s not working out like that, how’s he going to keep up that level of eating?  The munchies.  Yeah buddy, the best way to stay on a steady high calorie diet is to burn one every few hours. 

Me:  So, let me get this straight, the whole reason he smoked pot was to keep himself hungry?

MM:  You got it…hungry is as hungry does.  Seriously, though, you got any of those waffle balls?  [Giggles]  Heh, heh, balls.

There you have it, Phelps’ new hemp hobby is nothing but a poorly-planned attempt to keep his metabolism up in the off season.  And if that’s bong, then Phelps don’t wanna be right.

Fairytales of the Fed…

Sit down, children, and I’ll tell you a tale of a special visitor that comes into your house at night.  Oh, heavens no!  It’s not a scary visitor..it’s the Toxic Asset Fairy, and she’s going to make all your bad investments good as new!

Long ago, in a land far, far, away, there were some people…ok, lots of people, and big corporations, that had bought a bunch of investments for a lot of money.  Some of these investments were backed up by mortgages that no one was paying, and others were based on a housing bubble that had already burst.  But, the people buying them didn’t care, because they were making LOTS of money, and no one was getting hurt.  Then, one day the Big Bad Recession Wizard came into town and cast an evil spell that made those investments worthless. 

“STOP SELLING THOSE INVESTMENTS,” he said, a with a flick of his wand, everyone was just holding all these documents, that weren’t worth the paper they were printed on.  For a time, everyone was really sad.  “What will we do with our pretty investments?” they cried.  “We used to make 25% a year on these things, and now they’re worthless!!  We’ll never be able to get rid of these things!!” 

 But, that didn’t stop them from trying—first they went to neighboring villages to sell them.  Sure, they sold a few to people who didn’t know about the wizard’s visit, but they still had lots left over.  Then, they tried to put them together into bigger packages and sell them for cheaper, but no one wanted to buy those, either.  No one knew what to do, until one night, a villager decided to use his investments to prop up his pillow.  “Why not,” he said as he shoved a ream of junk CMOs under his head, “these things aren’t good for nothin’ else anyway.”  Well, what do you think happened?

That’s right, bright and early the next morning he woke up with a neckache.  “Stupid papers!” he cried as he flung his pillow.  And then he stopped.  Staring back at him was a thick pile of clean new green money where his papers had been last night!!!!  He pondered for a minute, then grabbed the cash and headed off to a big sale at the local electronics store.  Soon, word began to get around that someone had money and was currently loading up on bargain basement flat-panel tvs.  People found him, and he told them the story of how his worthless junk became money while he slept.  

Well, that very night, you can bet that everyone else in town put their nasty assets under the pillows.  And what did they find the next morning?  What’s that–I didn’t hear you?  That’s right, cash!  And lots of it!  Soon, they all had money and were out spending it all over the place, and the town was saved. 

So what did we learn from this story kiddos?  Well, if you’re a good little boy or girl and you get your hands on some worthless securities, just put them underneath your pillow and go to bed.  That night, while you are sleeping, the Toxic Asset Fairy will come along, take those papers, and leave you a nice pile of cash in its place.  And everyone will live happily ever after!

Let’s Face[book] the Truth

Dear Facebook,

Jodysez is irritated.  [Posted two seconds ago.]  Jodysez has thrown a blog post at lots of people. [posted 1 second ago]. Jodysez is off on a rant. [Posted moments ago].

Ok, first I’ll start by admitting that I, like 46 million other people of my generation, am a part of Facebook.  That should really not come as a surprise to anyone, since quite a few readers end up here after clicking through my page.  But, with that being said, lately I’ve noticed a few trends that have me wondering if maybe it’s time to change my status to a permanent “Away.”*  So, in no particular order, here are a few things that might make our virtual friendship a little stronger:

1)  Obscurity.  I do like that Facebook allows me to reconnect with people from high school, college, etc. and find out what they are up to.  It’s nice to see people that I haven’t seen in a few years all grown up, with lives of their own.  But, many of my recent requests are people that I literally have no recollection of, or only met for about five minutes fifteen years ago.  Take this recent exchange:

New friend:  Hi, how are you?  It’s been a long time!

Me:  Don’t take this the wrong way, but I have absolutely no inkling of who you are.

New friend:  LOL, you were always so funny!  I sat three rows behind you in 9th grade geometry and one day I borrowed a pencil from you.  So, what have you been up to since then?

Me:  Right, yeah, nothing much new.  Never did get that pencil back, though.

2)  Poke, Superpoke, etc.  This little feature also creeps me out.  I’m going to be honest, folks, if I only knew you as a friend of a friend who I met one time, and haven’t seen you since then, I’m going to be weirded out when you “Celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day by taking a bubble bath with me…”  I mean, I wouldn’t show up at your house and ask you to jump in the tub, so it’s no more acceptable to do it over the computer.  Also, the next person who “Throws a Thanksgiving turkey,” a “Kwanzaa chicken,” a “New Year’s duck” or similar holiday fowl is going to draw my wrath.

3)  Fan of/Joining causes.  In real life, I’m a big fan of a lot of things.  Similarly, I believe in a number of causes.  That being said, I don’t get pissed at anyone who feels differently about any of those things.  On Facebook, however, people seem to get really mad if you decline their invitations to share their interests.  But, let’s face it, just because I won’t become a member of “1,000,000,000,000 against wearing white after Labor Day,” a “Fan of Naked Barbeque Cooking” (which no one should be), or “The Spencer/Heidi Superawesome Fan Club”  when you ask me doesn’t mean that I don’t like you as a person.   Also, some of these things might reveal a little more about you than you want the general Internet public to know.

So, now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, I can get back to updating my status and looking at everyone’s newest posted pictures.  See you in the tub!

*I’m not really considering doing this, but it does lend some credibility to my rant.

A Lame Duck Letter

CNN reported that when Barack Obama arrived at his new desk in the Oval Office, he found a letter from his predecessor, George W. Bush.  By calling in a few favors and offering a couple of bribes, I have managed to get a copy, the text of which I present to you below:

Dear Obama,

Welcome the the Oval Office!  You may not know this, but the office got it’s name because it is shaped like an oval, which is weird because I thought it was shaped like an egg.  But anyways, that’s not my point.  I wrote you this letter to offer you a few words of advice on being President.  Please take these to heart, and keep them in mind as you start your new job:

1)  Never ignore your Cabinet.  A Cabinet is one of the most important things that a President has going for him.  When I was in an impossible situation, or I had a tough decision to make, I would always look to my Cabinet for inspiration or ideas.  Now, I know that you will want to pick your own, but the Cabinet I used was in a storage closet outside of the Oval Office.  I put a lot of my favorite things in mine, like candy, Cokes, and some cool “Mission Accomplished” stickers that had a screaming eagle carrying a snake in his talons.  I also kept some of my favorite baseball cards in there.  So, when I got in a tight spot, I’d sneak down there for a quick Jolly Rancher and a look at my autographed Nolan Ryan rookie card.  That usually put me on the right track.

2)  Be careful!  Being President is really dangerous!  I mean, the Secret Service is really good at their jobs, but they can’t protect you 24 hours a day.  Most especially, be sure to chew thoroughly!  Sometimes, like say you’re eating a pretzel and you think it’s ok to swallow—chew a couple more times just to be sure.  When in doubt use my motto:  If it’s goo, then you’re through, if its crunchy chew it a bunchy.

3) Don’t neglect your Vice-President.  VPs are like dogs, if you don’t give them attention and play with them, they can get real lonely.  Some of my best White House memories are of me and Cheney hanging out in the Oval Office, playing with his invasion of Iraq model.  Man, he loved to drop those plastic nukes all over the Middle East.  Also, it’s a common fact that most Vice-Presidents really like to be scratched behind the ears, so don’t forget to do that.

4) Have fun!  Being President means that you get to play with the coolest toys ever!  You get your own plane, helicopter, limo, lots of black Suburbans, and they will let you fly a fighter plane if you ask really nice.  Plus, you can bully around Congress and call them into joint sessions if you get mad at them, so don’t forget to do that too!

Most of all, don’t forget to take time for yourself and your family.  Feel free to give me a call if you need anything, my schedule is pretty clear for the next four years or so.  LOL!

Your friend,

W.

P.S., the toilet next to the Lincoln Bedroom doesn’t flush right, so make sure you jiggle the handle.  Also, no one has seen Cheney since January 19, so there’s a good chance that he might be hiding in a “secure location” somewhere on the White House grounds—you probably should keep an eye out because he likes to jump out and scare people.

Happy Mallidays

Twas’ the week before Christmas and all through the mall, lots of people were stirring, they were having a ball…

I was at Macy’s for another One Day Sale, looking for clearance racks, which I would assail.  The salesfolks were bustling, the coupons were scanned, and I was just browsing between suits, shoes, and pants.  Ah last-minute shopping, I checked off my list—I can’t omit anyone, lest they end up pissed.  Bought giftcards and slippers, dress shirts and slacks.  Got DVDs, Wii games, I filled up my sacks.

I browsed all the mall stores from Express to Gap, I swiped and I shelled out, I needed a nap.  When what to my bargain-hunting eyes should appear, but a 50% off sale that offered me cheer.  So I raised myself up and dashed off to shop, while visions of deep discounts started to pop.  When I walked in the place I heard such a clatter, that I dropped all my bags to see what was the matter.

I went through the racks and noted the price, off 60, off 70, man this would be nice!  I filled up my arms with many a ware, and off to the checkout, with no time to spare.  On debit, on credit, on Visa, AMEX…on Discover, on Mastercard, say do you accept checks?  When I was all finished, my wallet was bare, but I had enough presents that no one would care.  I fought through the crowds and elbowed out to my car, I let out a sigh and opened the door.  The backseat was full and the trunk wouldn’t shut, I even had packages under my butt.  But the true Christmas spirit filled my heart with glee.  Unfortunately, the traffic got the best of me.  So, a valuable lesson is just what I’ve learned—-shop early for Christmas unless you want to get burned.

The Senate Who Stole Christmas

Washington DC–December 10, 2008.

Hearings continued today in front of the Senate Banking Committee over Santa Claus’s request for up to $5 billion dollars in bailout loans and guarantees.   

Claus initially requested the bailout citing low cash reserves and difficulty in obtaining financing.  “For the past 450 years, I have operated with a cash surplus, however, with the recent crash of the North Pole Stock Market, much of my investment portfolio has been wiped out.  At this rate, I’m not sure that I have enough cash on hand to cover my elf medical insurance plan or my cookie budget past the third week in December,” Claus told the committee.

His request met with stiff resistance from the committee members, who questioned Claus on the specifics of his operations.  Below is an excerpt from the hearing:

Shelby:  Now, look here, Mr. Claus, I don’t see how you expect me to sell the idea of a $5 billion bailout to the people of Alabama, when you haven’t even presented us with a cogent plan.  I mean, the average age of your workers is 246 years old—you can imagine the health costs associated with that.  Not to mention the energy consumption—I mean your average heating bill for your North Pole workshop is $4,000,000 a month during the winter.  Have you considered moving to a warmer climate?  We’ve got lots of empty factory space near Selma, and I suspect that we could give you a good deal on some tax abatements.

Claus:  Senator, because my workforce is unionized, I am unable to dismiss based on age.  The union mandated apprenticeship is 54 years—by the time I get new workers trained, I will long be out of business.  Certainly, my heating bills are high, but the cost to relocate my operations would be staggering.  But, there are good reasons—elves and reindeer can’t survive in a climate where temperatures reach above freezing.

Bennett:  Mr. Chairman, point of order—I would like to point out to the committee that Mr. Claus came here today in a private reindeer operated sleigh.  He didn’t bother to fly commercial or even drive.  I mean, is this the kind of man we want to trust our taxpayer money to?

Santa:  Look, my regulations require me to travel by sleigh.  Do you KNOW how expensive a flight from North Pole International is these days?  And driving?  I don’t even have a license!

Dodd:  Alright, alright, come to order.  Mr. Claus, I understand that you need this money, just like everyone else who has come before us, but I’m just not seeing anything that gives us assurances.  You don’t have a business plan, you don’t have any collateral, and you can’t promise that this is the last handout.  I don’t think we can help you until you show us more.  So, why don’t you come back after the holidays and show us something else.

Santa:  But, but….I….If I don’t get this money, there won’t be a Christmas!!!!  Think of all the children all over the world with no toys on Christmas morning!!!

Shelby:  Thank you Mr. Claus, that is all.  We’ll see you in January.

Dodd:  Next item, Megacorp Federal National Conglomerate Bank is asking for $47 billion in unsecured loans to pay executive bonuses and end-of-year parties and retreats.  I don’t think we need to hear anything on this.  All in favor…

All Members:  Aye.

Dodd:  The measure passes unanimously, off to the Senate for a full vote.