
Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday Soapbox: Tax Relief for Women

Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Some of My Best Friends Are....

Even in the best of times it's hard to find anyone in New York City who admits to having any Republican friends. But nowadays? Fuggedaboudit. In the ever-rising wave of The Year of Obamalove, many Dems are all but proclaiming victory for their candidate. But the real dirty little secret no one wants anyone to know is how many of us have Republicans in our own families. Crazy, I know, but true. What can one do but keep deleting the Internet-sourced e-mails that tell us that Obama is a socialist-leaning, terrorist-loving Muslim who is not even sure he was born in this country? We can fight fire with fire and send them the YouTube videos of the best gaffs of John McCain but that tactic seems so very...Republican. Instead we sigh and chalk it all up to an undiagnosed brain disorder. It's the only plausible explanation we tell ourselves. They used to be so much fun. They painted pictures, they played guitar and sang songs. They danced naked down the hallway playing air guitar to Jimi Hendrix. What the hell happened to them once they moved out to the suburbs? We wonder. Is it the isolationism of commuting by car? Is it the lousy restaurants? The short bubble jackets? The answer eludes us. Then we remember back to Christmas Eve 1969 when they told us that Santa Claus didn't exist. We were too young to be told such a terrible thing. Immediately estranged from our own parents, and untrusting of the older sibling who had broken the news, the line in the sand was drawn. The world was irrevocably divided into those who spoil things for no reason other than to be cruel and those who would keep looking for beauty and magic and free stuff for the rest of their lives.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Feelin' Ungroovy
Thursday, October 16, 2008
What's This?!


Friday, October 10, 2008
Ooopsie Daisy!
Did John McCain really call Americans, "My fellow prisoners?!"
Why, he's even funnier than Ronald Regan!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Rest in Music

Don't throw bouquets at me
Don't please my folks too much
Don't laugh at my jokes too much
People will say we're in love!
Don't sigh and gaze at me
Your sighs are so like mine
Your eyes mustn't glow like mine
People will say we're in love!
Don't start collecting things
Give me my rose and my glove.
Sweetheart they're suspecting things
People will say we're in love.
Don't praise my charm too much
Don't look so vain with me
Don't stand in the rain with me
People will say we're in love!
Don't take my arm too much
Don't keep your hand in mine
Your hand feels so grand in mine
People will say we're in love!
Don't dance all night with me
Till the stars fade from above.
They'll see it's alright with me
People will say we're in love.
Say you are dead and are somehow able to listen in on your own funeral. Which would be better: to listen to all the people you knew say nice stuff about you or to listen to some good music? If it's true that all angels play are harps, violins and trumpets I'd rather have two or three really excellent speakers and then a whole lot of amazing music. It might be the last I get to hear for a long time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)