Right-wing celebrity Bastards!

This morning, I had breakfast with my grandmother. She supported and worked phones for John Kerry in 2004. She's reticent about Barrack Obama, and expressed the opinion this morning that she thought John McCain impressed her. She's around 90, and previously referred to him as "John McClaine"- I doubt she's seen any "Die Hard" movies, but I worry about our country's future. I watched the debate, and Jim Lehrer was terrible as moderator- an ass I say! Obama was more composed, and a far better orator, no surprise, than McCain. The Senator from Arizona made many clumsy ham-handed cheapshots, gaffes, and references to Reagan than I could keep track of. He's no Reagan, just as Gov. Palin's no Hillary, not that I want her to be. Maybe he wouldn't be as terrible as George W. Bush, but that's giving him the benefit of a doubt, after eight years of wanting to gouge out my eyes, and move to a democracy.

Pray For Susan Hudgins

Some big dude came up to me in a sketchy local parking lot, this evening, to hit me up for change. I knew this from the start, it's one of those spots where this is a local nuisanse. The guy put out his hand to shake and squeeze mine! I hate this macho gesture, it doesn't intimidate me, so I squeezed back. He went into this patter about he wasn't going to lie to me, which is the con that never should work. I was rolling my eyes, and digging for the two quarters in my pocket to put him off my scent. I hand it to him, to cut off his sob story, as I usually do, not that I like to encourage begging. It might shut him up, and that would be worth four bits. I didn't want his sob story, which he gave me anyway, he was fresh from the pen, as he claimed, and hungry. Shit, I should have kept my money, rather than give it to a criminal with bad teeth. I could have given it to the crippled vet accross the street rather than an ex-con, of all people! Well I got shook-down for fifty cents, and what good does it do to beg for money in this world, if it dries up the empathy in charitable souls?

I have another blog, you ghosts might want to look at, it's byrownpet@livejournal.com check a later post if that link doesn't work. I tried to post on coming the other way, and it didn't work.

Electric Company Boogaloo

Today I saw a traditionally outfitted Jewish man (Hassidic? I don't know) with the hat, curly sideburn things ( feel free to post a tip on what they're called, I have read the Torah and a little about Kaballah, Kafka, etc., and am open-minded, imho- I mean no offense) and all black outfit, carrying an infant in diapers while talking on a cell phone. It was at a small shopping mall in Richmond, Va, so this was unusual, for me, but charming like a artful photo in "Life" magazine. I almost said, "By golly! What the heck is that?" and had the chaw drop from my puckered lips, not unlike the little bird I'd been whittling at my seat outside the Starbucks, from my sunburned, chapped hands. We southern folk just can't find the time to moisturize, proper-like.



On a completely different note, I have to say Target stores really have the right idea pimping "Spidey" related merchandise. I picked up a pen that not only lights up when you write, not only has a stamp of "Spidey", not only can be used to inject insulin to diabetics, it also has a bubble wand, with soap bubble stuff in the stem of the pen. And it only cost a dollar! If I were six, this would have wasted twice as much of my time as it did yours, for reading this, or maybe not. I have purchased a few other "Spidey" brand products over the years from Target, most notably the coin bank shaped like his iconic masked head of this costumed fictional character. I loved him as a kid, and dutifully read comic books about him and ate "Spidey" brand sugar confections at every opportunity, but that sugar rush wore off, sadly. I wouldn't pay to read of the wall-crawler's convoluted adventures these days, but I remain drawn to the brand, the icon, the kitsch and the big screen adaptations, minus the dance in #3. As ritual, I drop pennies into the bank shaped like his head at the end of the day, as I empty my pockets, and acidly taunt, "Penny for your thoughts, Spider-Guy?" Usually, I suppose his empty head is noting how some corporate douchebags are exploiting him, and how it sucks to have no recourse for litigated recompenesation, license rights, cereal box picture approvals (just imagine him taking a dump, with the lower half of his costume around his ankles, sadly slurpng from a bowl of Count Chockula).

nuff said