David Letterman, Glenn Beck, Jon Gosselin, life in the meadow, Newt Gingrich, Obama, Pilot Sully, racism, Roman Polanski
I’ve said this before, and frankly I’m going to say it again. The human brain wasn’t evolutionarily meant to contain so much information. You know I’m right, or we wouldn’t get so dizzy when we get overloaded with facts and don’t miss this advertisements.
We went into town today to grocery shop. This is never a fun thing, and blissfully, the Contrarian and I go our separate ways once in the behemoth known as the modern super store. He heads off for dog and cat food and other manly foods like popcorn, coffee, and bread–the staples of the couch man, while I tend to the sour cream, lettuce, and bananas–read, all the other stuff.
On the way there, I am treated to the usual complaining. “Oh no, you can’t be serious!” he shouts. “What?” I manage to get out just before he tells me….”he’s making a LEFT turn, in all THIS traffic?” If you didn’t know, the Contrarian expects all other citizens to stay home when he chooses to shop. He is a busy man you know, and can’t be bothered waiting on left turning morons.
I ponder the sign in one store window, “The coldest beer in town.” Now, I know that might mean something, but if it’s in a functional refrigerator, is anybody likely to know any difference between a couple of degrees?
My eyes glaze over as usual, as I contemplate all those billboards, bumper stickers, lawn signs. Where once they used to simply sit there in their xeroxed splendor, more and more they beep, blink and change whole pictures before my eyes. I still fight to maintain my autonomy, not allowing these intrusions to overtake my carefully nurtured brain cells.
Yesterday, at least I think it was, I was invited to visit the cockpit with “Capt’n Sully” of Miracle on the Hudson fame. Why exactly would I want to? They assure me I will love it, but I’m not sure. I try to avoid it, but it seems every “news” outlet feels the need to expound on the return of the hero to the control closet that is a cockpit.
I learned that Glenn Beck uses VapoRub around his eyes to help him tear up at the right moments on his TV show. If you thought this would change my mind about Beck, you would be wrong. I’m smart enough to know he’s a pea brain and that such as it is, it’s firmly embedded in serious psychological distress. I don’t need no VapoRub to be the final piece of evidence. And to the brain dead who love him, this won’t make any difference anyway. They are did I fail to say it already? BRAINDEAD.
It seems David Letterman is a lusty sex machine, or at least was some years ago. Is this something I care about? Mmmmm, nope, can’t say that I do. But the media was all about telling me all the sordid details, if they were sordid, and I don’t know that they were, but isn’t that the foundational question for all sex stories to air? “What is the sordidity level,??” screams the producer.
It may surprise you, but I didn’t care anything about Jon & Kate plus 8, before they became Kate plus 8. I still don’t. Why would anyone think I would care about some strange couples marital ups and downs? And what would be enlightening about watching them care for a litter of kids? If you can explain, perhaps I’ll reconsider, but naw, probably not.
The world or parts of it, seem all in a tizzy about whether Roman Polanski should be awarded a medal or jailed for having sex thirty years ago with a 13 year old. I don’t pretend to know what to do, but I think it would be more the province of the state of California and the people involved than me. The fact that the he the nasty with a kid is enough to know I don’t need my brain bothered by a person of that caliber. I have struck him from the 2010 dinner invitation list for the Peyton household.
Which is not to say that there isn’t stuff I am enjoying learning. Or at least finding useful. Mostly I find that those right wingers who with mock indignation continue to assert that they aren’t racists vis a vis Obama, need to realize that their ACTIONS tend to say the opposite. When you link me to parodies of the President put out by Beck, when you still wanna prove that Obama is a stupid man and that Ayres wrote his books, and when you applaud because Chicago lost the Olympic bid, all because it reflects badly on Obama, you are making it very clear that you are indeed a racist. Ya see, most racists don’t see themselves as such, that’s why so many white folks lose their jobs for saying crap they “didn’t mean anything bad by.” It has to do with how much time you might have spent with minorities, duh. Then you would get it and know that indeed, you are freakin’ racists who are conveniently covering it up with pseudo-serious objections to non-issues.
One of the funnier things I heard this week was about Newt (the toot) Gingrich. Newt belongs to some group of ain’t we holier than thou, which took to honoring small businesses. Then they did, and now they have to retract an award, cuz the winner turned out to be a topless bar, and Newt is all churched up now, and can’t have none of that. It’s fun to watch people remaking themselves before our eyes ain’t it? The tough requirements of appearing pious to run for president raise their ugly head once more.
Well, enough of this drivel. You notice I provide no links for any of this. You don’t need to waste your time. I did it for ya.