Rove's Dog Days Exit

I don't have time for a lengthy post, so I copied and pasted this from Yahoo News:

By TERENCE HUNT, AP White House Correspondent 6 minutes ago
WASHINGTON - "Karl Rove, President Bush's close friend and chief political strategist, plans to leave the White House at the end of August, joining a lengthening line of senior officials heading for the exits in the final 1 1/2 years of the administration."

The evil genius is leaving, what is a blogger like me to do? As he has faded more into the background, I've noticed my post have become less and less. A large part of that is that I am lazy, but the other part of it is Rove was just so much fun to write about. Love him or hate him, talking heads and spinmeisters everywhere love to use pages from his book as case studies of changing the way America thinks, speaks and vote.

What I lack in skill I make up for in context

I have no idea what the above headline means, but one day, I will write a book with this title. I fell off my South Beach Phase 1 diet last night and had a glass of a yummy pinot noir. Do you know what happens on Phase 1? Your body gets real clean and efficient on the inside, and when you dump a yummy pinot in your gullet, hilarity ensues, just like a bad seventies sitcom. So as I was polishing off my drink, and telling everyone at the bar how much I adored all of them, truly, and that they were all wondrous, truly, even though they were complete strangers, I turned to my husband and said, “what I lack in skill I make up for in context.”

We both understood that I had said something very deep. The problem is, we are too shallow to really figure this one out. What context? The context of my life? The context of other people's lives? The context of the moment?

Does it matter? We were drunk, having fun, and I said something that sounded really good at the time but in retrospect demands a large “huh?”

It got me thinking about how wine is the adult pot. I admit, I miss my college years. You would get high with your pals and you would say something totally ludicrous that seemed so deep and ponderous at the moment, and a bag of Cheetos later you are laughing at yourself, thinking, “Wow. What a dumb f@#k I am.”

I am a complete dumb f@#k when I drink wine. The world is once again innocent and I know no bad people, only friends. There is no stress, no drudgery, no bills. Just the moment, all happy and fuzzy, and at my age, hot flashy. During the week, I’m a mediocre marketing person with a short attention span and a bad memory, but come Friday night, well, what I lack in skill I make up for in context.