Archive for February 7th, 2009


Oh, Give It Up, Barry!

I know Obama wants to be all post-partisan and unclenced-fisted and all, but it’s time to get real when it comes to the stimulus package.  The House Republicans not only didn’t shake your proverbially proffered hand, they metaphorically fisted you with no lubrication or cuddling afterwards.  Why?  It’s a win-win, politically speaking.

Look, if the Democratic primary season taught us anything (besides what is NOT the meaning of “Super Duper”) it was that the wrong vote (according to your party) on a controversial issue will haunt you the rest of your political career.  Did Obama ever pass up an opportunity to mention he voted “Nay” on the war with Iraq?  Of course not, nor should he have.  And if any of these House GOP dinguses have aspirations beyond being Congressional seat warmers, they’re going to need to say at some point that they stuck to the party line on an important issue. Plus in this case there’s absolutely no risk in their so doing, and I’ll tell you why.

First of all, they know the stimulus is going to pass anyway, so they aren’t really putting the country in peril with their futile gesture of disapproval.  If the stimulus doesn’t work (because, say, there are too many tax cuts for it to be effective…and who was it demanding those again?), they’ve got the big I-told-you-so in their corner.  And, if the stimulus works, they can always say they held out for more infrastructure (just like they’re starting to do already) because they just lerve the Amurkan working man.  Like I said, it’s a win-win.

The same holds for the Senate GOP, and they damned well know it.  What to do?  Take out the shit they want, put in the shit you want, and then if they continue to block it…

Make. Them. Filibuster.

Make them explain their case for hours and hours, on CSPAN, to the nation which breathlessly awaits some sort of relief.  They won’t do it, because they know they don’t have a case to make.  And you’ll (we’ll) get the stimulus we actually NEED passed, rather than half the stimulus we need and half junk that’s going to sabotage your efforts on our economy’s behalf.

Don’t listen to Harry Reid.  That guy hasn’t seen his sack in years, not because he’s fat, but because it doesn’t exist (ooh, I’m in for a strongly-worded letter now!).  Listen to Rahm, who I’m sure is balls-to-the-wall in your/our corner on this one. Acknowledge that this one’s out of your charm’s reach and get your New New Deal working.  Once it does, and the public’s on your side, the GOP will follow.

Or just start selling topless pictures of you and Rahm playing basketball.  Economic crisis/deficit problem solved!


Ronald Reagan, Tear Down That Dress!

If only he’d stayed funny and innocuous like this:

We wouldn’t have had to deal with all this shit.

Or, frankly, this:

Come ‘n’ git me, Freepers!


We Get It: Rachel’s Not Getting Married

Awright, this isn’t the kind of blog I usually write, nor one I particularly want to write, but I think someone has to say it:

That’s enough, Jennifer Aniston.

You got dumped a while back.  For a smokin’ hottie with a heart of gold, a litter of kids, and a drawer full of sex toys.  I know, I know, how were you supposed to compete?

And now all anyone ever asks about/talks about/writes about is how you’re DYING to have a man and a baby of your very own.  You claim it’s unfair, and I feel you on that.  It’s got to suck to be unable to leave the house alone ever, lest the photogs catch you for that week’s installment of “Brangie and Family Frolic in the Sun; The Jen Stands Alone”.  So, yeah, I felt bad for you in that sense.

Plus, you seem nice enough.  You’re certainly a master of appealing to most American women in that middle-of-the-road non-threatening way I find simultaneously odious and fascinating.  So you’ve got that going for you.

But, come ON, now. You’re following up The Breakup and He’s Just Not That Into You with Baster???

Doing one of these would be funny and ironic, taking the piss out of those who thatsenoughjohnmayerclaim you’re a sad sack old maid. Two would mean your agent kind of hates you. But a movie about artificial insemination hot on the heels of your 40th birthday, when you’ve just been making the rounds saying you’re definitely not feeling the heat to have children, but are open to it someday? Really?

Now it all fits, though. You’re dating a well-known whore of a man-child whose sole purpose has to be to break your heart publicly (Why else would anyone go out with that douche? It ain’t musical talent, I’ll tell you that). And now you’re feeding the headlines you claim to hate, all so you can do more interviews about how sad you still aren’t, bask in female compassion, and spark yet more heated discussions on Jezebel about ZOMG how unfair it is that womyn in today’s society are only defined by who’s going or coming out of our vaginas!!1! (I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist)

So, yeah, I’m onto you. I get that a whole nation’s outpouring of sympathy has got to be almost narcotic. But it’s time to stop. It’s getting pathetic, this constant seeking-while-refusing said sympathy. There are actual miserable people in the world (I think your ex has either met or adopted most of them–bahZING!! I’ll be here all week! Try the veal!).


A Dish Best Served Cured

So let’s talk ham.

If you’ve never been to Spain, you may be unaware of this, but pork is omnipresent here. Cured, dried, ground, stuffed, you name it. And, while I think it’s amazingly good, the manic national pride in cured meats was bordering on the bizarre from my point of view. Sure, they’re proud of paellas, olives and tortillas (a thick omelette, NOT the Mexican type), but ask any Spaniard what defines their culture culinarily-speaking and they will invariably name off types of ham.

The prices and quality range from free (as tapas that come when you sit down at a cafe) to caviar-esque (for the almost mythic version that comes from pigs in one region who are exclusively fed acorns…if you’ve ever noticed the expression on a cat’s face while they’re kneading and purring and allllmost asleep, then you know what the Spaniards look like when they’re describing this one).

In every grocery store–even their version of Super WalMart–there will be an aisle devoted to it. The giant net-covered legs abound at all social functions, and it is well known that 90% of New Year’s Eve emergency room visits will be ham-related (they’re slippery suckers to carve up). Reading the doctor-prescribed guidelines for feeding my daughter for the first year, I just noticed the line:

After the first year, the child can begin to eat more than the basic meats (chicken, beef, serrano ham).

Why, you ask?  So did I.   I mean, yeah, it’s very good. But how did it become the national ethos? A grad student finally, and rather sheepishly, answered me: vengeance.

To put it lightly, Spain has had a long histoy of troubles with the Moors. When they finally reclaimed their land for good, they stopped all the cattle farming that had dominated and replaced the animals with pigs, making pork their national meat. It was a statement against the Moorish invaders, a way to tell the peoples of both lands where the line was.

To sum up, then: Spain is obsessive about pork because their rivals from 600 years ago can’t eat it. In other words, ham is Spain’s version of a teenage girl slamming the door to her room after a fight with her parents. Will it keep them from coming in? No. Does it feel good, though, like you’re really making a statement? Sure.

February 2009