Snake. Oil.

Is it just me who feels a sense of profound irony that President Bush is flying all over the country, at great expense in dollars and fuel, for scripted, invitation-only photo ops touting his administration's new energy policy? And wouldn't the most dyed-in-the-wool Red Stater be even a wee bit skeptical of this new philosophical turn away from the current policy of "Drill Everywhere, I Have Campaign Contributors to Repay?" What the hell, none of these things will happen before the end of his term, so he can say pretty much whatever he wants. Probably hopeful to implement Jetsons-style ships that run on greenhouse gases (how convenient!) by, oh, say, 2045...

And even funnier how this talk of alternative sources and conservation runs totally counter to the stated opinions of Dick "Be Vewy Quiet, I'm Hunting Quail" Cheney who made this statement on conservation and self-control a few months back?

Pigalicious

I may be vilified here for dissing a revered Philadelphia icon -- no, not the Liberty Bell, Ben Franklin, the Mummers, or the dudes who threw snowballs at Santa during an Eagles game -- but it's a statement that has to be made. I refer, of course, to the venerable Tastykake.

As if we weren't already fat enough, the news item below ought to make us snort and squeal with fat-and-sugar-fueled glee:

(from the Philadelphia Inquirer, 2/16/06)

Tasty Baking Co. is introducing beefed up versions of its famed cakes, complete with more icing and more calories.

Vincent Melchiorre, the company's chief marketing officer, said the new products are in response to Tastykake fans saying in focus groups "'we want more.'"

The fatter versions of Butterscotch Krimpets will have twice as much icing and 90 more calories; Peanut Butter Kandy Kakes will have twice as much peanut butter and 70 more calories. The new products are the first in line called Doublicious.

No truth to the rumor that the ad campaign will feature the tag line You want more? Well, you'll now need a bigger SUV to take you to the Wawa, you fat, lazy bastards!

Bet You Won't See This at UNLV

Another reason to like college athletics where it's a diversion rather than a revenue source: the sign at the Penn-Princeton game the other night, hoisted by a Penn fan, saying "Dick Cheney Shoots Better Than Princeton."

A Garden State of Mind

News this week is that the Supreme Court of the State of New Jersey is considering whether they, or the New Jersey Legislature, should consider whether same-sex marriages should be recognized as legal in The Garden State. For the record, those of you who are regular visitors to this blog (oh, all two or three of you) can probably figure out my position, which is that couples in long-term committed relationships, whether single-sex or opposite-sex, should at the very least enjoy the same tax and legal benefits. While particular religious denominations might not recognize same-sex couples as being married in God's (or Pat Robertson's) eyes, the legal protections of marriage should be available to any two people who step up to the plate and make the commitment. Frankly, it's not as if heterosexuals are doing such a great job upholding the institution, if you look at the divorce rate. And why shouldn't same-sex couples enjoy the same lives of quiet desperation as we do? I'm sure that the old joke about "why does a bride smile at her wedding" holds equal sway on the same-sex side of the aisle.

But I digress. The purpose of this post is NOT to condone or blaspheme same-sex marriage, it is to respond to a news story I heard the other day (on NPR, naturally), which listed some of the "friend of the court" filings made in conjunction with this case...including social service organizations, both pro- and anti-gay groups, various denominations, etc. But one struck me -- and why bother looking further when it's much easier to just react -- I found it kind of odd that one of the filers of Friend of the Court briefs was Monmouth Rubber and Plastic Products, Inc.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Liberry News

This clearly comes under the category of One Couldn't Make This Sh!t Up If One Tried: the deal, announced yesterday, whereby NASCAR and Harlequin Publishing are teaming up to producer NASCAR-themed romance novels. The deal is described in the press as a marriage between opposites -- I would respectfully disagree. I think they are equals in many respects. As the analogy might be presented on the answer key to the SAT (which guarantees that NASCAR fans will get neither the joke nor the reference):

Harlequin ::Fine Literature
NASCAR :: Athletic Competition

The commentators on NPR, on which I heard this story this morning, and who must have been mightily suppressing guffaws of laughter, noted that 40% of NASCAR fans are women (WHY??) and supposedly like to read (though the statistics might be skewed by the large number of subscriptions to Better Trailers and Gardens).

I can see it now: "Throw away that Jane Austen crap, Lurleen, I jus' got my copy of 'Pitstop Passion'!"

The downward spiral of intelligence in America (starting at the top!) continues! Turn left, turn left, turn left...

A Hazy Date of Winter

After nearly two months of balmy temperatures, we in greater Philadelphia (local pronounciation: "Fluffya") have just enjoyed a light dusting of snow - about 16 inches worth in my little corner of paradise. A little late for our first signficant snow of the winter, mind you. But, truth be told, if it had to snow, the timing couldn't be better: started late afternoon/early evening on Saturday, so that the view out the window while dining at the fabulous Alison at Blue Bell was lovely, the drive back home wasn't too bad, and we were snug in our beds when the worst of the storm hit. Knowing we weren't going anyplace Sunday morning, as church services were canceled, we took to clearing driveways and sidewalks, then enjoyed the Sunday paper and a couple of adult beverages by the fire. And let me say this: yesterday, I loved nothing more than my snowblower. Best money I've ever spent. Makes my life MUCH easier, doesn't ask much in return, and it blows on command. (rim shot!)

A couple of stored-up observations from last week:

• I have a funny rule of thumb about restaurants: If a restaurant incorporates the name of the highway on which it sits into its name, this is not a good indicator of a fine dining experience. I've seen enough of the places you would expect to be mediocre (e.g. Alberto's 202 Cucina), but one I saw last week just sounded bad on so many levels. Sited on Route 17 in northern New Jersey, awash in strip malls, gas stations, etc. sits Pier 17 Restaurant. Yes, driving for my live amid Hess stations, Dollar Stores, and TJ Maxxish establishments makes me think of nothing but "wow, I'll be the seafood is GREAT around here."
• It's rare that something incorporates, nay, embraces three of my favorite rant sources: American arrogance, frivolous use of resources, and stupidity. But the International Star Registry gets the hat trick. First off, where do we come off saying that we have the right and the ability to not only name something in the natural world, but sell the rights to this contrived product? Second, I simply can't imagine pulling out a credit card to purchase this dubious honor (I'd like to research my hypothesis that those most likely to "purchase" a star are also most likely to incur credit card debt and least likely to make minimum monthly payments) so long as there's ANY person in need, ANYWHERE on Earth. Third, I might also guess that unless someone lives at Mt. Palomar Observatory, it would be a little challenging to see one's star as opposed to someone else's ("No, not THAT one. That's 'Stella Johnson'."). And finally, a word of warning: hearing the current ad on the radio, which touts giving a star for Valentine's Day, may cause projectile vomiting. "Wish on OUR star." "I love you!" Jesus, don't let these people procreate...

Too Bad He Wasn't Hunting DAN Quayle

Take a look at this charming mug and tell me that his shooting someone is an Accident.

Poor bastard that the Dickster was hunting with probably just told him that he was scaling back his donation to the Texas Republican Party, or trading in his Hummer for a Prius, or something.

Remember, kids: Guns Don't Shoot People. Vice Presidents Shoot People.

Friday fun

Courtesy of my fellow Comix Cardinal and blogger idol yellojkt, some fun and mindless amusement perfect for a Friday morning:

Ten Top Trivia Tips about J.Po!

1. J.Po will give a higher yield if milked when listening to music.
2. The air around J.Po is superheated to about five times the temperature of the sun.
3. If you don't get out of bed on the same side you got in, you will have J.Po for the rest of the day.
4. J.Poocracy is government by J.Po.
5. If you lick J.Po ten times, you will consume one calorie.
6. The risk of being struck by J.Po is one occurence every 9,300 years.
7. Two thirds of the world's eggplant is grown in J.Po.
8. The Australian billygoat plum contains a hundred times more Vitamin C than J.Po.
9. The only planet that rotates on its side is J.Po.
10. If the annual Australian J.Po crop was laid end to end, it would stretch around the world seven times!

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

OK, so my html skills aren't so hot. But what does it matter? Two-thirds of the world's God-damned eggplant is grown in me!!

Let me also state, for the record, my skepticism as to the validity of item #5.

If the link doesn't work in the "I am interested in..." piece, go straight to the source: thesurrealist.co.uk . Enjoy!

I Have A Dream

Why, yes, it has been too long since I've posted, while letting random thoughts accumulate in the junk drawer of my mind. What with the start of a new year (i.e. time to start getting serious about work again), the latest installment in the Bathroom Renovation Project From Hell, and a long business trip to Arizona (where, in true corporate-think fashion, they send us to a warm-weather site in January whereupon we spend several days in a windowless room), it's been hard to keep on schedule. But the junk drawer is now open, and out spills the contents:

I had a perverse wish last night that the Kommandant-In-Chief would start the State of the Union address something like this:

Let us pause this evening, before I begin my address, to take a moment in memory of Coretta Scott King, who passed away last evening. Mrs. King, after the tragic assassination of her husband, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., carried the torch of civil rights and equality forward with class, dignity, commitment, and eloquence. (Brief pause with required resolute look on face.) And now, I would like to formally introduce and recognize the newest justice of the United States Supreme Court, the Honorable Samuel Alito, who spent many of the same years as a member of an organization that fought the admission to Princeton University of anyone of the same sex and race as Mrs. King.

This would be followed, of course, by a cross-country PR tour, at our expense, to tell us all that sexual and racial discrimination are just fine and dandy. Because of 9/11, you know.

And now for something completely different. (Well, maybe not entirely.)

• This would have been a much more timely observation had it been recorded when it happened, but we're not hearing much about Ariel Sharon any more, are we? For a week or so, we were privy to every medical update, every new motion of a finger, etc...with the same frequency and weight of the news reports years back that Generalissimo Francisco Franco was still alive (though I prefer the SNL-parodied version that Franco Is Still Dead, delivered for the Hard of Hearing). Then came the news that while Sharon might regain some function, it would be a while before it could be determined whether he would regain "the ability to think and reason." Query: were President Bush to suffer the same fate as Sharon, how would we know when and if he could think or reason?
• And this news item: "Fines for safety violations in mines have been drastically reduced during the (fill in blank) Administration." Clue: It's after the year 2000.
• Admit it: when you listen to the intro for the BBC World News on NPR, you think the same thing as I do when you hear, "this is the BBC World News -- I'm Judy Swallow." (No truth to the rumor that she shares the anchor desk with Nigel Spit.)
• Why do people spend good money for vanity license plates that tell the world what kind of car they're driving? Yes, asshole, I can tell it's a BMW, which indicates to me that your financial priorities are already out of whack -- do you need to reinforce it with a plate that says "MYBMW?" My favorite (?) of all time, way back from the days when I lived in Concord, New Hampshire, was a car I saw from time to time, a truly-forgettable Pontiac Phoenix (think of the Chevy Citation without the cachet), with the plate "77PHNX." Why not put the money into the vehicle, for God's sake? A BMW is Excess. A 1977 Pontiac Phoenix is just embarrassing.