Archive for category Politics
As is typical for a Monday, I’ve got lots of things running through my head today. Some are thoughts informed by tidbits from the weekend past, like that final few crumbs of a morning muffin that gives just a hint of the enjoyment had previously. Mmmm…double chocolate chip muffin.
What? Chocolate is too perfectly acceptable for breakfast-times noms. Count Chocula used to tell me so on Saturday mornings in commercials wedged between the Smurfs and Scooby-Doo. Surely the Count wouldn’t lie to children, right?
Aaaaaanyway… Read the rest of this entry »
I was glad to see that world was mostly still in one piece when I got up this morning. That said, though, the images all around us from Monday night and today are, well, pretty damn staggering. Sandy made landfall and left a mark that I’m not sure even Godzilla could live up to. And beyond “Superstorm” Sandy, or whatever, looking beyond the East Coast weather situation, there are heart-breaking stories much closer to home, and then even after that there’s still the whole election nonsense to bear.
For the record, I’m pretty sure the only person truly gaining anything from the 2012 election is that guy who does the voice work in radio ads. If he was smart he’d have contracted for royalties each time any of the ads are played. Dude would be rich from all the He said-He said commercials about China and the auto industry I hear repeated every morning on my way to work.
I mean, I used to switch channels, but they’re on, like, ALL THE CHANNELS. So now I just turn the radio off and spend a few peaceful moments in my head. Which, just in case you’re new here and not familiar with the way my brain, um, “works”, is me saying, in effect, “Yes, I’d rather spend my time with the crazy voices that alternate between idly wondering what would happen if someone cross-bred a zebra with a platypus and telling me to burn things than listen to more of each political machines’ propaganda.”
Anyyyyyyway, since surely we could all use a break from the deluge of images of general mass destruction, chaos, and, well, deluge on this rainy, cold Tuesday, I thought I’d offer you Something Completely Different.
I write often of The Attitude, who turned 4 a scant 14 days ago, and his, well, occasional attitude. Really though, I haven’t really done much justice by him here, because there’s a whole lot more to the kid than just a healthy dose of obstinacy. For one thing, the boy often shows more enthusiasm than Richard Simmons conjures up the moment he slips into those shiny lamay shorts. For another, at just barely 4 years of age, my youngest son is capable of engineering and construction feats that would confound most adults. For instance, his train track arrangements would likely befuddle both parents, both sets of grandparents, and quite possibly more than a few city engineers. His latest creation, which he informed me today was a “huuuuuuuuuge track”, is pictured below.
Oh, and just for reference, this is not the most complicated track he’s ever made. A few days ago he somehow built one with an elevated split that bridged to another track and later dismantled it in favor of a double decker bridge. I’m wondering if I should offer his services to the planners for the Brent Spence Bridge project.
I don’t know about you, but seeing thing made makes me feel better about all the things falling down right about now.
And yes, even if it’s a just kid’s train tracks.
Well, no so much for me, at least from a consumption perspective, because I have to run early tomorrow morning. And if there’s anything I’ve proven to myself so far, it’s that late night beer drinking + early AM running = Massive Ugh. But that’s okay! Because what I really meant was that today’s a good day to write about beer. At least, if you’re me. If you’re not, then, yes, drink some too.
Why do I always write about beer on Thursday, you ask? Because, um, obviously, uh, yeah, I don’t know. Maybe some week I’ll choose to write a post about beer on Wednesday, or perhaps even Tuesday. I mean, beer doesn’t haven’t to be the topic of the day only on Thursday, right? I could totally pick a different day to vomit out some word ramblings on the subject.
Goodness know I have ramblings every day of the week.
Anyway, protestations about my self-assigned weekly schedule notwithstanding, today is Thursday, and not surprisingly, also the day I’ve written about beer, again.
This time, though, it’s not just beer I get to rambling about! What with the national election nonsense machine running in high gear now and just under three weeks to the Big Day, I thought it might be a worthwhile endeavor to highlight how each of the candidates from the two major tickets seem to feel about craft beer.
You know, because, really, a) craft beer, b) having more well-written sci-fi shows on TV (that don’t get cancelled in the first four weeks), and, oh yeah, c) improving reading and overall literacy are, you know, the “big” issues for me.
I’m kidding of course. At least about the sci-fi thing. Also that those are the only things I care about.
Point being, I conjured a little post on Hoperatives today (one that amuses me, at least) about the candidates and their respective relationship with beer. What I realized first is that this is an odd foursome. But then something surprising happened. In all this thinking about politics and craft beer, I stumbled right into a realization about economic policy that’s probably going to stick with me for a long time.
And people say spending all my time thinking about beer isn’t healthy.
So! Here’s the new post. I’m pleased with it. If you like beer and/or politics, read it, maybe?
Also, I should mention that my weekly football/craft beer blurb was posted in Paul Daugherty’s blog on Cincinnati.com, The Morning Line today. In case you’re not sure what to drink this Sunday during the Bengal’s game, I have a few suggestions of what to consider, and conversely, what to avoid like the plague (hint: it rhymes with Iron Kitty).
All right, that’s enough silliness from me. Happy Thursday, everyone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, all this beer talk has me a tad parched. Oh, right. Running.
After much consideration, I decided not to offer a weekend debate this weekend. For one, we had the Vice Presidential debate last week and two more Presidential debates still to
stomach endure come in the next few weeks. So I think we can all take a break from the debating of nonsense topics, just this once.
Two, clearly this is no time to be drawing attention away from my recently announced candidacy for President of the United States. My campaign staff recommends that I stay on message rather than straying off topic with a discussion of nacho powder-covered tacos or Red-Hot vs Tobasco. Therefore, the Weekend Debate will be back next week with what I can assure you will be a incredibly compelling question of a subjective nature. In the meantime, why not take a moment to canvas your neighborhood with Puddin for POTUS literature? Okay, fine, if that’s not your thing and you’re just dying for some Sunday debate action, maybe check out the Weekend Debate archives?
God Bless you, God Bless the Commonwealth of Kentucky, and God Bless the United States of America.
Like most Americans, I reckon, I watched some of the Vice Presidential debate last night on, um, I don’t know, that one channel with all the talking heads that don’t manage to really say anything. Between you and me, I’m not sure why we have VP debates, anyway, since the Vice President of the United States is about as impactful on the day-to-day operation of the Executive Branch as the “emergency” third-string quarterback is to an NFL team.
Basically, they both pretty much just hold the clipboard until somebody gets creamed, and everyone else hopes and prays that never happens.
Anyway, much like with the first Presidential Debate, at the end of these things someone, usually several varying someones, declares a winner and then we chitter about it like squirrels until the next one or the election. But, honestly, I don’t know if these things really have a “winner” since the whole process seems more subjective than my seven year-old daughter keeping a boxing scorecard (“Daddy, I like his shiny gold robe, I think he should win!”). I do, however, know who loses. The American people lose, it seems to me, pretty much every time.
Look, the thing is that both sides lie, dodge, and spin issues around until no on really has idea what any of it means. And let’s be honest, every last promise they all make is more dependent on who gets elected to Congress than which ticket wins the prom popularity contest lands on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Luckily, I have a solution! One of my cousins posted a link last night to a document from the Commonwealth of Kentucky (that’s where I live, see) with instructions on how to register intent to be a write-in on the KY election ballot.
Hello, my name is Puddin. And I think that this November 8th, you should write my name in for the office of President of the United States.
I know what you’re thinking: “Dude, really?” To that, I say, “Sure, why not?” And to prove how dedicated I am to this, I spent my entire 15-minute morning commute today considering a plan for fixing what ails the good ol’ U. S. of A.
Without further nonsense*, I offer Puddin for President’s Patented** Five-Point Platform:
- As president, I promise not to promise to deliver things that I couldn’t deliver even if I had a beat-up, old Civic hatchback and a Pizza Joe’s roof sign.
- I promise to accept absolutely $0 in campaign donations. Money shouldn’t have anything to do with politics, seeing’s how it corrupts and all. So, I mean it, no money, not from lobbies, old friends, or even from well-meaning little old ladies. If anybody sends me any campaign money, I’m giving it to these peopleso they can build their damn Tesla Museum. I mean, come on, it’s Tesla! I will, however, allow you buy me a beer as long as you promise to talk about sports, books, movies, or, well, beer.
- I promise to lead a charge to have corporate “Mission Statements” and PR departments quit feeding us lines of crap that stink more than an toddler’s pants after a bowl of three-alarm chili. From now on, I want to see some honesty. Instead of nonsense like, “We, WidgetCo, Inc. stand for buzzword, blah, blah, blah, quality, blah, synergy, yadda, yadda products for people,” I think we should get something along the lines of “We, WidgetCo, Inc. want to sell you crap for high prices so we can crank up our stock price and go on crazy, fully-expensed coke benders. Our mission is to sell you more of our nasty-ass, pink ammonia beef so we can go cha-ching, cha-ching, cha-ching!”
- If elected, I promise to focus my administration, whenever possible, on tackling long-term issues rather than slapping a politically expedient five-year band aid on a short term problem. Because it’s about frakkin’ time someone did it and, well, f#ck it, I’m not getting re-elected anyway. Can I fix our sluggish economy in four years or make the budget deficit go away with a wave of my magic tax wand? Hell, no. Neither can Santa Claus, King Midas, Marvel’s Avengers, The Flying Spaghetti Monster or any of the current yahoos running for the office, for that matter. But I’d sure like someone to focus on something that has long term ramifications, like really fixing our faltering education system, no matter how painful doing so might be. Maybe the next four years won’t be a cake walk, but the following forty sure could be awesome.
- I promise to make National Beer Day a federal holiday. You knew that was coming, right?
- Finally, I promise to redirect oil company subsidies to new rail construction, both model and full-size. Not for any serious reason, mind you, but because my future chief of staff, The Attitude, says choo-choos are cool! And, I mean, come on, everyone agrees with that.
Yes, I realize I said “five-point plan” and I gave you six. See, this means that either a) I’m lying to you already, which clearly indicates that I’m qualified for the position or b) Look! I under-promised and over-delivered! The last time that probably happened to any of us, we got an free order of artery-sludging fries from Burger King because you ordered onion rings, but they screwed you at the window and you had to go in and fetch your deep fried onions on foot.
Man, but they f#ck you at the drive-thru!
Anyway, this Election Day, while you’re trying to figure out what the hell to do with your kids since they’re off of school but your ass has to work like usual, remember me. What? No, no, not for baby-sitting; I’ve got my own problems there. No, remember me as a write-in candidate for President of the United States.
Because I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh…oh, wait, that’s for the mirror. Let’s try this one: Because I’m old enough, I’m a citizen, and really, could I screw things up that much worse?
That’s Puddin, P-U-D-D-I-N.
God Bless you, God Bless the Commonwealth of Kentucky, and God Bless the United States of America.
*I would have said “adieu” there, but polling research indicates that the French language turns voters off as being all “high-falutin’ and possibly sissified”
**Not really. I don’t think you can patent these things. And patents take forever anyway.
I don’t think I can adequately express just how happy—no, elated—I am about today. Sure, it’s Tuesday, which isn’t something to typically get all wound up over, and yes, I still had to go to work today rather than enact my plan of sitting around in a bathrobe while watching the entire Star Wars saga at once.
But…but…it’s Election Day here in the great Commonwealth of Kentucky!
What’s the big deal, you ask? Well, of course, there’s that whole expressing your individualized will as toward goverance thing, which is pretty cool, even if most of the candidates might only be slightly more electable based on their honesty and trustworthiness than your average potted cactus.
Even beyond that, though, I’m tinkled pink about the arrival of election day because aside from some unfortunate restrictions on when you can buy alcohol today (making it the clear bane of all pub owners), it means I can finally express a great sigh of relief and move on with my life.
A life no longer burdened with All. Of. This. Nonsense:
I know I already complained about this a few days ago, so I’ll spare you the recap rant. But I wanted to point out that what I photographed above is only from Monday’s mail. Yes, fair reader, every single last one of those ads pictured above was stuffed into my groaning mailbox yesterday.
I haven’t counted yet, but I’m pretty sure that brings the total of this season’s political fliers to 1,653,258.
Or does it just seem like that many?
Whatever it is, I worry somewhat about having received so many over the course of the last few weeks. Surely the attention I’ve been getting by flier isn’t typical, right? Am I some kind of superhero voter, perhaps? Does my vote count more than the average American?
Well, whatever, I look forward to an emptier mailbox.
So, you’ve done your civic duty, right? It’s not too late, you know. Get out there and cast your vote!
What are you waiting for? Go on.
If you’re anything like me – and let’s be honest, here, who wouldn’t want to be exactly like me? – you come home after a long day at the office, slip into your evening jacket, shake yourself up an ice cold martini, and leisurely peruse the day’s mail while puffing on a pre-dinner pipe in the library.
Ok, so I don’t really do that either. Usually I have to take out the trash or plunge a toilet as soon as I get home.
Nothing says Welcome Home quite like, “Oh, hi, honey. Shitter’s clogged.”
That’s okay, though. I don’t mind; it’s all part of being the modern Renaissance Man. Or at least that’s what I tell myself halfway through a six-pack.
Ahem. Anyway, I do like to check the mail first thing. You know, just in case Ed McMahon wants to award me a few Publisher’s Clearinghouse millions from beyond the grave or something. As it turns out, there’s typically nothing but the occasional bill, maybe an ad magazine, or perhaps a form letter from Local Corporate Community College X suggesting I go back to school and get a certificate in Computer Support Services.
Um, thanks, LCCCX, but, just, No. I think I’ll ride my career out with that silly Bachelor’s in Computer Science and Math I earned from, you know, the accredited university back in 1995. But, hey, maybe I’ll stick your letter up on the fridge, just in case I decide to call for more information (I won’t).
Of course, in addition to all that very compelling daily correspondence, there’s been this lately:
In case you’re wondering, that’s a picture of all the political fliers/mailer cards we’ve received over the past, I dunno, 10 days.
Look at it there. All of it. Tremble before it’s massive glory.
Oh, and I took this picture on Monday. More, so very much more, has arrived since then.
The most impressive thing is that there’s only about four individual types of card there. Maybe five. Whatever, the point is that they’re sending me doubles. Triples, even. It’s the very definition of insanity.
I’m stockpiling these in case the winter we didn’t get this year returns doubly pissed off and frigid next year. In which case I’ll have an ample supply of fuel to burn for warmth. So, I guess, thanks, candidates for that.
But seriously, candidates, THIS IS STUPID. Look, not only is your mailer card not going to affect my voting decision, sending me multiple versions of the same thing makes me believe that either:
- You have been employing the “shotgun” method of direct mailings, which includes all the precision and grace as a 13 year-old hopped up on 2 quarts of “Mt. Dew Code: HEADBUZZ XTreeeeeme” trying to shoot a housefly with a fully-automatic paintball gun.
- You have no idea who you’ve been sending these things to and probably don’t care as long as you spend your budgeted campaign dollars and some statistic someplace (actually compiled by a guy nicknamed “Slumpy”) demonstrates adequate “regional traction”
Either way, such a display does not lead me to believe you and/or your respective campaign teams have your shit together or could find my house on Google Maps, let alone your own collective backsides.
So, as I’ve explained that all the nonsense photographed above is not going to have any affect on my actual voting methodology, could we stop wasting money on all this crap? I mean, sure, fine, if you must, send me one (1) mailer card. Whatever. But after that?
Here’s an idea: take the money you’d have pissed away sending me six of the same pointless, glossy card and donate that sum to the local school.
Try improving my kids’ education instead of wasting money at futile attempts to promote yourself.
That might change my opinion of who to vote for.
In the meantime, I’ll be waiting here with my rainbows, unicorns, and flying donkeys for word that someone’s done that.