Chain Gang

Every now and then someone I know will send me a chain email. I always delete them – I think it’s rude to send them and says something about a person’s lack of intelligence if they feel that they must not break the chain or else.

Oddly, most of the time when I get these mails, it’s from Southerners. For some reason, the Deep South has a proclivity towards voting Republican, God, football, and senseless chain emails.

Tonight I got the oddest one of all. The email had been forwarded to me from someone who got pinged by the chain from someone else who had been pinged and so on. It read: “Congratulations, you’ve been kissed by the dancing baby” (there was an image attached, presumably of that annoying dancing baby that made the rounds on the Internet 5 or 10 years ago).

It went on to read: “send this email to ten people you know within fifteen minutes and something good will happen to you. If you do not send this email, prepare to be shocked and amazed as you will be cursed for ten years.”

What? Who would originate such a thing? Someone who is pissed that “Charmed” is going off the air, or has yet to get over the demise of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” I thought it was a great example of a person behaving badly. And it wasn’t just the person who originated this ridiculous email but the person who sent it to me and nine other poor souls that she knows. They both deserve a good old-fashioned ruler slap on the hand by a nun.

Cyberspace seems to be the place where not only bad people go to be bad, but so do good people. Break the chain. In the future, hit the delete key.

Blame it on the Weather

It’s cold outside. If you are reading this, and you live in the Midwest or on the East Coast, or even chilly San Francisco (shout out to my buds in SF) you are probably wondering why I even bother on commenting on the weather. I live in Las Vegas. We’ve had snow in March. Does that sound screwy to you? It does to me.

Granted, the snow didn’t stick to the ground, but those were some mighty fat and furious flakes. I felt like Rosemary Clooney in White Christmas.

I’m no weather expert, but even an aerosol, Styrofoam loving, dyed-in-the-roots grrl like me can see that the globally, our weather is screwed. Maybe raptureready.com is right and the apocalypse is near (In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, they had numerous apocalypses, so take heart) or, as I see it, global warming is doing it’s nasty thang and we are headed for, well, now that I think of it, an apocalypse. Or in the least, some really, really, schizophrenic weather.

Oh God, I hope I don’t get Jesus freaks emailing me on this one. I don’t think my republican-administration induced ulcer can take it.

Back to the point: everyone is screaming – and rightfully so – about W’s and his dogs lack of skills at concluding the war in Iraq, the mess in New Orleans (shout out to all my displaced NOLA relatives), port security, their uncaring attitude in general, and their arrogance at large, but IMHO, there is in no way enough attention focused on their utter lack of environmental policy, other than, “hey, dump that industrial waste container right over there, will you. It’s in the way of the CEO’s view.”

Of course, I misspeak. They do not have a lack of environmental policy. It’s all aimed at helping corporations’ bottom line, while gussied up as some rare-species loving program.

At least that aspect of their marketing machine is still working.

I'm going to Baja for a few days, where it's at least ten degrees warmer. So I won't be blogging. Until my next post, stay warm.

The W stands for Woe

I don’t know who to curse more: W or my job. I’m so slammed with work, launching our company’s global domination strategy (as I like to call it because it makes me feel important), that I haven’t had time to comment on W’s latest polls or the chain of disastrous decisions and political maneuvers our cowboy president has made. Maybe it’s my aging hormones, but I find that I’m not as happy about his imploding administration as one might think I would be. It’s not good for our country, as we have three more years of him. If him and his buds have done this much damage in one year, imagine how bad it can get in three years? Well, there’s always, Prozac. Affording that drug (or any drug) under this administration may well be another issue. Is the worst yet to come?

Funnier Than Bush on Truth Serum

Check out this video at heavy.com showing “various actors” auditioning as Osama Bin Laden, with OBL watching the audition.

Don’t Breed and Fly

I’m still trying to recover emotionally from my horrific roundtrip flight to Dallas last weekend. Don’t get me wrong. There were no emergency landings, no hijacker threats. It’s just that Dallas, like most of the South, is a kid-friendly place, and the breeders down there like to fly with their offspring. There were more kids on the plane (coming and going) than there were at a 6-year-old’s party at the local Chucky Cheese’s.

I live in Vegas. Who the hell wants to bring their child to Vegas? We call it Sin City for a reason. It’s not Disney for kids. It’s Disney for Adults. Yet here were all these big-haired mommas from Texas with dirty children attached to their hip, as if they weren’t going to Vegas to gamble, but were going for a spree at Toys R Us.

Children should not fly. It’s bad for my health. They make a lot of noise. They can’t sit still. And let’s be honest. Children smell. They are like cats. They don’t like water. But at least cats lick themselves. I’m watching my cat right now as I write this, Sammy Davis Jr. He’s licking himself. It’s time for his morning bath. He wants to be clean. He’s embarrassed to smell. And best of all, he’s quiet. He knows how to sit still, to be seen and not heard. Oh. My. God. I just realized something: my cat is more polite than your average child. And he’s more polite than your average parent who insists on flying with their brats. Not everyone is using frequent flyer miles. Some of us pay hard cash to be on those flights. And when you bring a kid aboard, it ruins the already bad experience of flying even more. Thanks to kids, flying has become the most expensive inconvenience of all, just short of curing malignant cancer.

It’s an election year. Please some forward-thinking politician, put this ideology on your platform: ban kids from airlines. They belong in day care, not coach.

If Dick Were a Clone

I have the solution to the Port problem. Clone Dick Cheney half a dozen or so times, stick a beer in one hand and a shotgun in the other, and ship him off to the US ports that this Dubai company wants to run. Let him handle security. Quail, old neocons and evil-doers beware.

And I Thought My Day Was Bad

I just got back from Texas, where, despite their bad taste in politicians, they have funny jokes. I picked up this little gem while I was there:

Do you know what the definition of a bad day is? You go quail hunting with Cheney in the morning and Ted Kennedy gives you a ride home at night.