The thing I liked about John Edwards was his ability to rise up above it all. While Obama and HRC were duking it out, John Edwards would simply say â€œI want to talk about the issues that face the American people todayâ€. And he wouldnâ€™t even bother engaging. He didnâ€™t engage on the haircut nonsense, he just rose above. So when a food fight erupts because Bernie Mac opens for Obama, he needs to take a page from John Edwardsâ€™ play book. It has nothing to do with the issues that are facing the American people today. It wonâ€™t get us out of Iraq. It wonâ€™t find the REAL terrorists in Afghanistan and Pakistan. It wonâ€™t solve the mortgage problem. It wonâ€™t put people back to work and it wonâ€™t bring our jobs back home. Neither will the cover of the New Yorker. It just doesnâ€™t matter. What matters is that our troops are under supported in a godforsaken hellhole for neocon ideals. What matters is that bread lines are now a matter of due course in the middle of this country. What matters is that lenderâ€™s REO portfolios are full. (as in to the limit) What matters is that our jobs are being outsourced unless weâ€™re in sales, lawyering or service and a bunch of amateur managers. We are the Banana Republic. All thatâ€™s left is the wealthy landholders and the kitchen help and nothing in between. Arenâ€™t you glad we voted for the guy weâ€™d like to sit down and have a beer with?
OK, I have to revisit the New Yorker cover. I can’t stand myself. It’s satire people. Jonathan Swift wrote about eating Irish babies. He didn’t want to eat Irish babies. He wanted the British government to wake the hell up. The New Yorker would like us to wake the hell up. Now how one cartoonist managed to get every single right wing bugaboo into one cartoon is a mystery to me, but godblessem.
But if it were a satire about McSame…
OK, I guess that does work too.
Stop the press
No. I didn’t quit my job, I wasn’t talking about myself yesterday. This website doesn’t make enough money to pay my mortgage. Heck, it barely pays for itself and I need beer money. We won’t be partying like rock stars over the receipts here at PBE, it’s Bud and cigarettes, unless Skip the Ice Cream man is giving away the good stuff on his route.
A very very fine house
Yeah buddy, that’s broccoli. And here’s that damned crook necked squash
Here’s your shirt
Some people win a t-shirt every day. Iâ€™ve been whining a lot about BARF lately, and with good reason. The new parking lot is designed so you have to weave through the floors. Not time or energy efficient. There are also a ton of new riders. These are people who drove to work by themselves in their cars burning fossil fuels and polluting the environment as long as they possibly could before it became cost prohibitive. Then and only then, they made the decision to take public transportation. Just now they are finally doing the right thing but not because it’s right, they are doing it because they have no other choice. In other words, theyâ€™re assholes. No one should expect them to get on a BARF train and magically acquire any sense of civility, or community or class. They have none. They selfishly drove their cars for years for no reason other than self entitlement. In other words, they’re assholes. The rest of us, who have been taking public transportation for years can expect them to bring their inflated sense of self importance with them. We can expect them to lay their briefcases across the adjoining seat on a SRO train and then grouse when they have to move it. We can expect them to spread out like itâ€™s their freaking living room and have loud cell phone conversation and bring their coffee on board and generally be assholes. You know thereâ€™s a big problem with coffee on board. Say some guy next to you has a cup of coffee and the train makes an unexpected stop and the guy spills the coffee on you. He will say heâ€™s sorry, and Iâ€™m sure he is, but you are going to work covered in coffee and your clothes are probably ruined. Say he spills it in your brief case on your laptop. Heâ€™s sorry. You just lost a laptop. I am vehemently opposed to coffee on the trains. Or any liquid. Or food. What condition do you have that you canâ€™t wait 45 minutes for your next snack? Or canâ€™t eat it before you get on the train? Itâ€™s ridiculous. Here’s your t-shirt. And hereâ€™s T-Bones’s tip of the day…(possibly a new feature) Donâ€™t stop at the top or bottom of the staircase to pull the handle out of your rolling bag. Step to the right. Thank you.