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It’s been a chilly morning here in Las Cruces. My computer temp app is registering 41° and it was undoubtedly colder than that when Diego and I left at 6:25 am for our cruise through the desert. I had my hoodie tied up tight I can tell ya.

So it seemed a perfect day to make a pot of chili and a sheet pan of carrot cake. Both are simmering and baking as we speak. We are speaking still aren’t we?

So, it’s been a while since we looked at the light side of life. I just want to congratulate Willard on his full head of hair. I’d have torn mine out by now if I had such helpful GOPer’s like Mourdock  and Sununu as my battle buddies.

The Willard plan to cozy up to the President when it comes to foreign policy turned out just about how I thought it would–it scared the bejesus out of ordinary folks who were okay with him having no interest in morality “values” issues and thus flipping from place to place, but find it too scary to think that he really doesn’t care one whit about the rest of the world either.

Finally the message is clear–I’m a businessman who wants to be A president of a big fat ass country, and you can trust me that I know my bizniz just fine and the rest of it–I’m just gonna turn that over to people who care. Except that the people he wants to turn it over to are scary +++ types.

For the most part Willard hasn’t bothered to explain his constant changes of position. I’m thinking that it has mostly to do with his deeply felt paternalistic superiority over all us little people who live in our little apartments and call for help when we have our heart attacks.

We are too plain dumb to realize that he’s changed his position you see. Why explain what need not be explained?

Why you might as well talk to Ann’s horse Rafalca for all the good it would do ya.

Ain’t it grand having to explain yourself to people so beneath yourself? Talk slowly, and use simple words and just smile when someone claims you said something different last week.

Millions of us were just tingly all over wondering if we were in Willard’s binders. To think that those dark brooding eyes fell upon our fair statistics, well it makes a girl tremble in ecstasy I must confess.

There were no binders of women in his Mormon church hierarchy and no binders of women at Bain. So what’s a guy to do when he becomes Governor and needs to woman-up the looks of his cabinet?

Why one takes advantage of work DONE BY WOMEN and then lie and say you thought of it. Women will never know the difference–their too busy being unbound in their binder.


Meanwhile, back at the mansions of Amerika, with all their fancy cement ponds, the rich and infamous are busy sipping Mai Tai’s and e-mailing their factory fodder to “vote for Mitt” or else.

Now that’s what I call voter intimidation.

“My Lord, my good man, if taxes go up another penny, I would be forced to sell my Christmas home in the Alps, or my Thanksgiving castle in France, or perish the thought, sell my California car, the Lamborghini which I only drive three times a year to keep the paint bright and shiny. Better I just cut your job! Not trying to tell you how to vote of course. No never that!”

Arguably, there were other things going on in the world that were worthy of discussion.

But everyone knows that running for office is only about platitudes and generalities. Serious discussions are for the intellectual elites who would have nothing to talk about on those high-minded talk shows if politicians actually discussed seriously the issues of the day.

When the three trending ideas on Twitter over the week or so is #BigBird #Bindersofwomen and #Bayonets, you gotta figure that our elections are about trivialities. Actually they aren’t of course, but we have to take on faith that our choice of a candidate is the one closest to believing as we do. And they say faith is God is a hard leap.

Well, the cake is baked and the chili is ready, and the sun is shining. It’s Saturday and all is well.

OMG ONLY 10 MORE DAYS–I’m Kanipshit Fitting!!!