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2006-07-06 - 11:40 a.m.
Tramp the Dirt Down
Apparently, Wednesday was Dubya's (aka: Dumbass) sixtieth birthday. No, I didn't send him a Hallmark, not even one laced with spores of Bacillus anthracis. [Note to NSA: that was meant purely satirically. Yeah, that means it was only -- 100 percent -- a joke.]
Someone made a funny quip on NPR, possibly on the show Marketplace, about what kind of gift Bushie might wish for: In light of dismal approval ratings, the commentator said the best gift might be an offer from Canada to buy 6 New England states for a hefty sum, and to use the proceeds to give a generous tax refund to people in all the Southern States.
Hee hee. Ha ha. Yeah. I wouldn't mind living in a state that were sold to Canada. Really.
Now, I'm a good wannabe Buddhist, so I try my best to cultivate a level of compassion and love even for those whose ideas and actions tend to disgust me. We're all humans, after all, ya know? (Even if that's not a universally held belief.) And I don't like spending my precious time full of piss and vinegar and hate, but sometimes....
On pondering G-Dub, often I can't help having certain lyrics of Elvis Costello's song, "Tramp the Dirt Down" (from Spike), come to mind. These were originally written with Mad Maggie Thatcher in mind, but insert demagogue of choice and toss vigorously:
Happy Belated Birthday, Mr. President!
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