First the Eyes, Now the Lips

Anyone who has read this blog on a semi-regular basis knows there’s one thing that creeps me out. Besides Walmart. That’s right. I’m talking about W’s eyes. I’ve asked the question a million times: what is wrong with those darn eyes? He’s not cross-eyed. Most people describe him as shifty-eyed, but I think that’s inadequate. And more importantly, why isn’t there more discussion about his eyes? There was tons of talk about Clinton’s infidelity. This eye issue is just as creepy and way scarier.

Now, five years after W’s been prez, I’ve noticed his eyes aren’t the only whacked thing about the man’s face. What’s with his mouth when he talks? No, I’m not talking about the words coming out of this mouth – 60% of the population takes issue with that. The man can’t speak. Literally. As he forms each word, he looks like he’s taking a bite of a fat hamburger.

I saw a snippet of the State-of-the-Union tonight, and I couldn’t even begin to tell you what he was saying because I was too busy watching him try to speak. It looked painful for him to talk. God knows it’s painful for 60% of us to listen to him, but really, I think tonight’s performance is verifiable proof, as if you needed any, that the man makes a terrible representative as leader of the free world.

Oh, and by the way, I cruised the news afterwards to see what he had to say, and from what I heard, it was really whacked, more so than the eyes or the lips. We’re addicted to oil? What about his cronies?

A Million Little Promos (for my new book)

Writers are desperate people. As a highly successful unpublished novelist, I’m an expert on that. So when the fray about James Frey’s “A Million Little Pieces” hit, I have to admit: I was a little happy. One successfully published author’s misery is my slice of sunshine. But I’m not a good person. That’s why in all my novels, the characters based loosely on me are good people. It’s fiction. I exaggerate.

In my soon-to-be-published novel, “Bourbon Decay,” I have characters inspired by my parents and grandparents. Except the characters in the book are funnier and even stranger than they were, which would probably please them if they were all alive.

I was afraid my sibling, cousins, aunts and uncles would sue me, so I made all those characters up. I may have used a word or phrase here and there that real people used, but I never had a cousin who had aspirations to be the next William Faulkner or a sister who ran for the Ms. Divorced Mississippi pageant, all snippets from “Bourbon Decay.” Nor did I have two gay cousins, as Lisa Tingle in “Bourbon Decay” has. I could have written about the real people, called it a memoir, but I’m way too much of a chicken to ever do that. And what I wrote is more fun to read (in my unbiased opinion) than anything they ever did in reality. My family just was not wierd enough for me to write a memoir about. Sigh.

So for years, I’ve read memoirs with a dose of disbelief. First of all, who can remember that much detail from their life, particularly when they’ve been abusing drugs and booze? I can't tell you what I did or said last night, and I just had a glass of wine. Secondly, who is so brave that they would write about their family showing all the blemishes and ugliness? That's just dumb. And last but not least, families just never are as interesting as the lies we tell about them. Just ask James Frey. Or me.

Kudos to Oprah today for calling him and his nasty-ass publisher on the carpet. By the way, Oprah, when my book comes out, I hope you read it. I can assure you, it’s all lies. But it’s okay, I’ve published it under Fiction.

The Few, The Proud . . . The Few

According to a new pentagon study, the army has become a “thin green line.”

The report suggested that the Pentagon's December decision to begin reducing the force in Iraq this year was driven in part by a realization that the Army was overextended.

I will now refrain from, once again, making snide comments on W, the people who voted for him, all neocons, or Charlize Theron’s dress at the Golden Globes. Okay, that latter has nothing to do with any of the other things, I just wanted to throw in a fashion dig.

Emphasis on the RIGHTness

Reuters - Mon Jan 23, 5:02 PM ET
WASHINGTON - President George W. Bush on Monday told opponents of abortion their views would eventually prevail and urged them to work to convince more Americans of "the rightness of our cause." On the 33rd anniversary of Roe v. Wade, the landmark Supreme Court decision that established federal abortion rights, Bush addressed activists by telephone from Manhattan, Kansas, and called their goals noble.

The rightness of their cause? Far right, maybe. Give me an old-fashion Republican who believes in a small federal government that minds their own business. It's bad enough I have Dick Cheney listening in on my calls to the take-out Chinese joint down the street, but honestly, if, God forbid, I should ever get pregnant (and with these aging hormones it would be a miracle) and abortion isn't legal, I'm on the first plane to someplace where I still get to say what happens to my body. If people would just use birth control, it would cut down on the need for abortion. However, the world is full of morons who can't put on a condom or take the damn pill, so yes, there are abortions that could have been prevented. But anti-abortion people, honestly, do you think a child deserves to be born to a moron? And aren't enough children born to morons? I mean, W won the 2004 election, look at all the morons who voted for him. Can I go to jail yet for saying that?

If you insist on taking away abortion rights, then that only leaves us with one logical solution: enforced sterilization. Does that appeal to you people more?

When Primary Colors Happen to Good People

There is much I could blog about for my first post in many weeks. Israel is walking on egg shells (what's new?), Al Queda is making threats (what's new?), W's ratings have dragged down the Republicans (God, are your really there?). But with all that is going on in the world, I feel I need to make my blog comeback writing about something that really bothers me. People who wear clothes that aren't black. Or gray. Or some nice neutral tone.

If God had intended grown-ups to wear baby blue and pink, he wouldn't have created drab white robes for his boy Jesus to wear.

Last night, I went to the tackiest casino in Vegas, the Suncoast. I went to see Walk the Line, a movie about that great wearer of black, Johnny Cash. Good movie by the way. I suffered right along with Johnny (or Joaquin Phoenix) when his first wife said, "must you wear black?" Thank God he divorced that southern chunk of cotton candy.

As we left the casino, I looked around and saw drunk, overweight people in baby blue, purple, red, green, anything but black. Often, people ask me if I'm going to a funeral because I have a fabulous habit of wearing black. My idea of color is gray. Let me tell you something, if more people wore black, the world would look better, and Republicans would be tolerable. Don't ask me what black has to do with that, I just know that I can tolerate a conservative in all black much better than I can tolerate a conservative in peach. They are just less annoying.

Let me put it to you another way. Unless you are Kate Moss, you are not thin enough to wear anything other than black. Black also looks good against any skin tone, so pasty people look good, too. So face it, you just aren't pretty enough to wear color. Stick to black. Johnny did, and look at him. They've gone and made a movie about his life.