Vote Day

Typed out a whole long rant about politics, about which issues are truly important, about people calling either candidates ridiculous names or labeling them with ridiculous tags. It was cathartic. But I'll refrain from posting it here. Trying to keep this a happy place -- especially if Julie Bowen shows up.

All I'll say is this: I truly believe that one candidate (who does care deeply about this country) is trying to win an election while the other is trying to change this country for the better on a fundamental level.

One candidate wants the best for the U.S. but doesn't always understand how to best accomplish that goal, while the other is logical and levelheaded enough to push for policies that really will make a difference.

Personally, I have nothing against the former -- his horrifying running-mate choice aside -- but I hope his supporters are able to take a step back and see what happens should the latter happen to win this election.

It might just turn out OK, Red Staters. Many, in fact, believe it will turn out far better than OK. And after these last eight years, hope and belief ain't such bad things, are they?

Air sensitivity

On a plane. I walk toward the back of the plane looking to dispose of my refuse, if you know what I mean!

That's not a euphemism. Pretty straightforward explanation. I had garbage I wanted to get rid of.

Anyway, I see a flight attendant.

Me: "Garbage?"
Him, in a slow, sad monotone: "That's the first time I've been called that before."
Me: "It won't be the last, bitch."

Me (really): "That's not what I said! Sorry about that."
Him: "That's OK. I'll just talk behind your back when you sit down."

Then some lovely young lady tried to scoot by him.

Him: "You can fit – I've slimmed down."
She looks at him and his belly skeptically.
Him: "Wow, she called me fat."
Her: "I did not! But you are. Now move it, fatass!"

I fell in love immediately and asked her into the bathroom (we actually were roughly over Denver at that moment).

I awoke 38 minutes later with a splitting headache and a knot on my noggin the size of a tennis ball. As I tried to focus, I was partly blinded by Garbage Man's 63 pieces of flair. Damn Lumbergh!

Earlier, as we took off, the guy across the aisle from me stood up and gestured for flight attendant to come over. She got on the PA and said, "Sit down now! Quickly!" So he did (though he didn't buckle up – bastard!). And we were off the ground about four seconds later.

Apparently he believed there was a problem with something on the wing – some issue that could manifest itself during takeoff. It didn't. Still, he communicated this to the flight attendant, who brought it to the pilot, who apparently send some sort of reasonable explanation back to our (anti-hero). And all was fine. Of course, I type this while still in the air.

Still, I'm not worried. Now had it been William Shatner or John Lithgow sitting there …

Who knows – maybe this plane has no left phalange.

OK, so we did land OK. And as soon as we did, the same crazy dude – seen in that washed out pic above – immediately got up and went to the back of the plane while we were still going however fast it is a plane goes right after touching down. WTF, dude? Garbage Man, I'm gonna need you to go ahead and get on that.

**THIS ENTRY WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY LORNA DOONE SHORTBREAD COOKIES FROM NABISCO. LORNA DOONE – GREAT SHORTBREAD WHEN YOU ARE SHORT ON BREAD … OR IF YOU HAVE THE MUNCHIES.**

GD Goose

Why did the animal cross the highway?

To cause a spectacle.

Brief slowdown on I91 north this morning. A goose – at least I think it was a goose – made its way to the median strip. With his car parked on the southbound side, a policeman was, well, observing.

He had an "OK, what the hell do I do with this thing?" demeanor.

Suggestions?

1. Tackle it
2. Imitate it in an attempt to communicate
3. Discharge sidearm into the air
4. Discharge sidearm into the bird
5. Discharge something completely different from a body cavity
6. Continue to stand there wondering what the hell to do, thinking about where your life went wrong, how you never should have begged off dispatch and gone on patrol
7. Get in squad car and leave
8. Have a picnic
9. Go to search.yahoo.com and enter "goose preparation recipes"
10. Wander in circles muttering, "duck … duck … duck … " until the animal decides to play along.
11. Say "Marco!" in an effort to confuse the bird and amuse yourself
12. Do the chicken dance in an effort to anger the bird
13. Flap your arms wildly and bat your eyes in an effort to mate with the bird
14. Call Anthony Edwards (explaining as he picks up that "no, for the last time, this is not your agent calling.")
15. Call Carmelo Anthony
16. Eat a Caramello
17. Call it Mellow Yellow, quite rightly
18. Drink a Mello Yello, unSpritely
19. Engage in an out-of-control pursuit of the bird. You know, a wild goos...
20. Bow humbly, drop to your knees and acquiesce to its omnipotence

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Meanwhile, discovered today that moments during which you aren't supposed to laugh at/with children include a 3-year-old girl saying "god damn" over and over, giggling wildly each time as her mother and grandfather desperately try to get her to stop.

There are few things funnier and more fulfilling than the laughter of a child. This was one of those things.

I was cracking up in the seat in front of them, waiting for the girl's twin sister – who has an aversion to seat belts but not to repeatedly kicking the chair in front of her – to join in.

"Where'd she pick that up," the mother asked rhetorically and uselessly, as this was a Jersey woman we're talking about.

"I don't know," the grandfather, likely just as guilty, answered.

The things elders inadvertently teach children. Come on, people, be more careful. I mean, god damn!

[insert sound of cackling 3-year-old girl here]

Tom Wilkinson?

At tonight's Who show ...



30-ish hours later: So I wasn't able to convince myself that this actually was Tom Wilkinson, but I wasn't able to definitively say that it wasn't. Either way, The Who put on two damn groovy shows in two nights -- and they played Sister Disco! Wacky, wild schtuff.